#oh and of course I have to draw my oc keith

[david-watts]

I wanna draw some doccy who stuff for the sixtieth but I genuinely have no idea what

[kaizoku-musume]

Mayday Hayday Gift Exchange

I had the absolute pleasure of participating in this years' Ikeseries gift exchange hosted by @olivermorningstar and @lorei-writes, and I got the wonderful @tulipsaisle for my giftee. She has a wonderful OC that was fun to write about and I hope I did her justice. Thank you all for the opportunity to join in on this amazing experience!

Fox Fashion

Shiloh scratched the tabby cat’s back, taking a break from running her stall at the day’s slow peak. It was so heartwarming for her attention to be rewarded with purring delight and affectionate head bumps.

Paying attention to the cat also had the added benefit of Shiloh being able to ignore Nokto Klein.

“Shi-loooooh,” Nokto sing-songed as though he’d not been yapping for the past five minutes about his latest conquest at some ball he just attended. Couldn’t he have picked a more interesting topic? It’s not like Nokto wasn’t a great storyteller: the way he could draw in a crowd as he utilized his honey-smooth voice and descriptive embellishments was near unparalleled, but he so often wasted his talents by telling tales no one wanted to hear, least of all Shiloh.

“Did you hear something, Minou?” Shiloh cooed at the cat, “All I heard was the wind. If only it would blow its hot air somewhere else, huh?”

“Come now, I’m sure there are better ways for me to put my mouth to use than just blowing air, hmmm?” Nokto purred. Shiloh clucked her tongue and turned her face away so he couldn’t see her red cheeks. She always struggled to think up a good comeback when he toed the line of vulgarity like that.

“Be honest, dear,” Nokto said, angling his body to try and catch a peek of her face, “is a cat you see every day really more interesting than a prince specifically stopping by to visit you?”

“Oh, of course not,” Shiloh waved Nokto off. She took a small toy mouse out of the pocket of her dress (it was worth  making friends with the best seamstress in town) and tossed it on the ground for Minou to play with. “If Licht were to stop by, I’d be happy to sit him down for some tea and snacks.”

“Just Licht?” Nokto prompted.

“Well, there’s also Leon, Jin, Yves,” Shiloh counted on her fingers as she listed everyone aside from Nokto, “I heard Prince Keith is a good conversationalist and knows a lot about flowers, I wouldn’t mind picking his brain about them, and there’s-”

“I think I get it,” Nokto said dryly, “so foxes rank pretty low under cats with you.” He reached out to boop Minou’s nose, causing the cat to scrunch her face adorably. “What am I going to have to do to make you change your mind?”

Shiloh raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Do you really think you can compare with Minou’s gentle sweetness? Her precious curled feetsies?”

“I don’t think any human can compare to that,” Nokto admitted. That was suspicious. Usually he didn’t give up so-

“But I can show you a different kind of pleasure that’s just as delightful.”

-soon. “Unless you’re talking about the pleasure of silence, I’m not interested,” Shiloh said, dusting her dress as she stood up, ready to refocus on her shop.

Nokto laughed and said, “I’ll get you to admit my charms one day, Miss Hayes.”

* * *

“Ugh!” Shiloh groaned as she fanned herself with her hand, “Why can’t spring last longer?” Maybe she should upgrade from an outdoor stall to a shopfront-then she’d have more than just shade to protect herself.

At least she wasn’t suffering alone. Nokto had shown up minutes ago, having heard the same thing from Celine, the seamstress, about a surprise showing up around now. And Nokto wasn’t any better in the heat than she was. “I can easily say this isn’t my preferred method of working up a sweat,” he agreed, asking for the second time, “Are you sure you don’t want to close up and go to a cafe? I’d never imply you were anything other than a delight to look at, but you’re turning a shade of red that even I normally can’t get out of you.”

“No thanks,” Shiloh stood her ground, though there was a part of her that couldn’t deny being tempted, “but if you can’t handle it, I won’t think less of you for needing to escape to safety.”

“Such a kind offer. But I’m not callous enough to leave you out here all by yourself. Why, what if you were to feel faint under the-” Nokto sputtered a bit when Shiloh frantically shushed at him to be quiet, flapping her hands in his face. She’d just spotted Celine’s surprise trot around the corner.

“Oh. My. God!!!” she shrieked, taking in the sight of Minou in the most adorable little getup Shiloh had ever seen. Never in a million years would Shiloh ever imagine she’d see Minou in a dress, but here she was, watching the tabby proudly prance over to her, wearing a tiny, flowery-there were roses! And junipers!-green sundress, perfectly sized and aimed at making Shiloh lose her mind with cuteness overload.

“Well, that’s certainly something,” Nokto observed over Shiloh’s gushing, “That must have been a struggle, to wrangle a cat into that outfit.”

“It’s worth it,” Shiloh declared in awe, “she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. And such a good idea! How many people would jump on the idea of outfits for their pets? Celine could start a whole line of clothing for pets-the fabric and labour costs would be much lower, too. Oh, she’s brilliant!” 

Nokto watched on as Shiloh began muttering about the process of the fashion industry and how it can accommodate Celine’s project. “This is what gets you going, is it?” he chuckled in amusement, “Regular clothes just aren’t enough for you anymore so now you need a tiny version to get excited over?”

Shiloh cut off her rambling, a hand on her hip as she addressed Nokto, “When a new line drops, I’ll be all too happy to talk your ear off about it. Don’t for one second think I’ve given up one of my big loves in life. But come on!” she gestured toward Minou, who was in the middle of grooming herself, “I challenge you to find anything cuter than a cat in a dress.”

“Sounds like a tough challenge,” Nokto said, a sudden gleam in his eyes, “what do I get if I win?”

That didn’t sound good at all. Shiloh eyed Nokto warily, wondering what the tricky fox was up to. But it wasn’t like she could take it back-withdrawing now would just make it look like she thought Nokto could actually do it. She would have to face this head on. “If you can succeed, I’ll take you up on one of your non-sexual! invitations.”

Nokto’s grin made her immediately regret her words. “Sounds like a deal. I hope you keep to your word.”

Ah, great. Shiloh blamed her poor decision on the awful heat.

* * *

Well, today was the day. Nokto had messaged Shiloh to let her know he was ready to show her something cuter, and Shiloh could only hope that he came up with something perverted; it would be a pain to deal with, but at least she lose and be dragged along on whatever plan he had up his sleeves. All Shiloh could do was count down the minutes until the time Nokto promised to arrive, her eyes boring holes at the street corner he should come down.

She’d wracked her brain, trying to think of every possibility available, but when Nokto finally rounded that corner, she realized nothing could prepare her. Shiloh slapped her palm over her mouth to stop herself from bursting out laughing at the sight before her.

“Well?” Nokto twirled for her, the hem of the dress he wore flaring out with the motion, “What do you think?”

“Wh-why?” Shiloh wheezed behind her hand, still struggling not to laugh despite the realization that the dress actually looked good on Nokto. He’d gotten it tailored to his measurements and picked a colour that went well with his skin tone, so he was clearly taking it seriously . . . kinda. Nokto hadn’t passed up the opportunity to be as, well, slutty as possible: the dress was a slinky little number, the neckline was cut as low as physically possible, and there was a slit along his right thigh nearly to the waist, revealing pantyhose of all things! Why was he like this?!

Nokto struck a couple of unnecessarily sexy poses, “Because it’s clear that the only thing cuter than a cat in a dress is a fox in a dress, wouldn’t you say?”

Shiloh had a lot she wanted to say, such as “but you’re not an actual fox” and “then why didn’t you wear a cute dress?”, but none of that mattered more than telling him, “There’s no way this counts.” Nokto just smirked, like he was prepared to debate this all day if he had to, and Shiloh knew, with a dawning sort of horror, that she’d sealed her fate the moment she set up that condition.

Maybe she could still get something out of it if she convinced Nokto to wear a dress to whatever party he wanted to drag her to-at least that would give her something positive to look forward to in the face of her crushing defeat.

[rosyfingereddawnn]

only the black rose (chapter 3)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: vague sexual references, two mentions of keith richards and a whole lot of fluff. also poetry about jimmy page because i’m a simp.

words: 3.4k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: not beta’d as always! this story does follow a playlist of mine, because i put too much thought into things. also this chapter is full of jimmy moments (finally) so i hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

playlist

chapter one

chapter two

----------

“He’s coming!”

Hushed whispers echo through the studio as amps become hiding spots, and instruments camouflage the people crouched behind them, anxiously waiting. Layla finds herself kneeling next to Bonzo and Jonesy, Robert a few feet away, giggling silently at the anticipation.

Feeling for the leather handle of the prize slung over her shoulder, Layla smiles wide, excitement dancing in her eyes like a perfect waltz. Hearing soft footfalls on the tiled floor drawing near, a charged silence falls over the studio. Sun-kissed curls poke out from behind the amps to spot the intruder. With a subtle nod to hidden companions, chaos erupts.

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices yell in near unison, startling the intruder, who puts a hand to his racing heart.

“Happy birthday, Pagey.” Robert trots up to his friend, grinning impishly at the stunt he had pulled. Jonesy and Bonzo follow suit, hugging the guitarist, while Peter lumbers out of his hiding spot, knees groaning from his crouched position. A pat on the shoulder and smile gracing his face, Peter wishes the man a happy birthday as well. Minutes pass, packed with greetings and formal well-wishes, until misty green meets warm brown once again.

“Happy birthday, Jimmy.” Layla starts towards the man, pulling him into a familiar hug, his unruly curls brushing her cheek like the soft caress of a lover. The hands that wrap around her back finally feel the handle of the weathered guitar case, and he pulls away, confusion creasing his handsome face.

“Layla, is that a guitar? I didn’t know you played...”

“This isn’t for me… It’s, uh… It’s your birthday present.”

“You…”

“Well don’t just stand there gaping at her, Pagey! Open it for God’s sake! She picked it out herself!”

Hands quivering almost imperceptibly, long fingers reach for the clasps of the case, snapping them open with a click. A soft gasp permeates the tense silence as the lid is opened, revealing the beautiful instrument. Lifting it out of the case delicately, Jimmy’s face fills with awe, eyes shining, clear ponds of morning dew. Running a hand down the neck of the guitar lightly, Jimmy looks back at Layla, then at the instrument once more, mouth opening and closing like a floundering fish.

“Layla… It’s… Thank you so much.”

“Of course, Jimmy,” Layla whispers almost shyly at the gratitude of the man before her, “I hope you like it. I saw it and thought it was perfect for you, but obviously you don’t have to use it if it’s—”

She is cut off by the sensation of long arms around her once more, cradling her as though she was a precious gift. She is once again surrounded by the dusky sweet scent of smoke, pine and citrus. Ebony ringlets tickle against her cheek once more, and she is home.

“You know,” Jimmy starts, voice a calming rumble against Layla’s cheek, which is pressed to the tall man’s chest, “I may not be great with words. That’s why everyone else writes the lyrics. But believe me, petal, I’ll never forget this.”

“Petal… That’s a new one, Jim.”

Layla and Jimmy jump apart then, laughing shyly at the intrusion. Hands wringing together, desperately searching for a distraction, their eyes meet once more. Twin blushes rise on their faces, and they turn to face their friends.

“Well, I do believe it’s time for the cake!” Peter claps his hands together, signalling the end of the awkward moment that had transpired, “Boys, let’s go get everything ready. Except for you, Pagey. You’re the birthday boy, we’re not gonna let you lift a finger to help today.”

“But—”

The only response is the patter of footsteps against the floor, signalling their exit. Layla chances a look at the man next to her, and finds him looking back once again. Mulling it over in her head, she decides to ask the question she’s been contemplating since the beautiful guitar was uncovered.

“Jimmy, you said you weren’t great with words,” Layla breathes out, hand rubbing at the back of her neck, eyes downcast, “Would you be able to play something for me? You obviously don't have to, but—”

“Layla, I’d love to. I need to try this beauty out anyways, might as well do it while you’re here to witness it.”

A smirk sits familiar on his stubble-dusted cheeks, dimples just visible. It’s obvious he was joking, but the thought of him playing something solely for her, on the guitar that she gifted him, was a lot for the young woman.

“Do you have any requests, petal?”

“Not really, but I’m sure anything you play will sound amazing.”

“Oh, you flatter me too much,” A hand moves to the crown of his head, graceful fingers scratching nervously, a betrayal of the man’s attempt at nonchalance. Jimmy stops then, cogs almost visibly turning in his brilliant mind. “… This will have to do.”

He sends a smile to his companion, and launches in, a flurry of beautiful chords resonating from it’s polished wooden body. Layla is in awe, watching his deft fingers slide across the fretboard with practiced ease, never missing a note. It’s when he starts singing, quietly, under his breath, that Layla’s eyes shoot up to his. Jimmy’s eyes are closed in pure concentration, a small smile dancing playfully on his lips. She can barely make out the words that float from his mouth, until he hits the chorus.

“God only knows what I’d be without you…”

He opens his eyes then, a smile growing at the open-mouthed expression of the woman next to him. He hums the rest of the song quietly, smirk never leaving his face until the very last note. Taking a deep breath, he turns to the woman, ducking his head slightly, the confidence leaving as though it had never been there at all.

“So… What did you think?”

“Here’s what I thought, Jim,” Layla says, a mischievous smirk of her own present on her face, as she stands looming over the guitarist. Soft lips meet the apple of a stubbled cheek, a sharp inhale of air punctuating the complete silence of the studio. Layla moves back, taking in the shocked expression on the angelic face of her companion, “Now, I think it’s time for a birthday celebration, so I’ll meet you in there, birthday boy.”

Layla, walking to the door, chances a look back at the guitarist and find him in the same position, staring off into space dazedly, a hand pressed to his cheek. Layla laughs lightly under her breath, and leaves the room. She finally meets up with Peter and the boys, who take one look at the smile that hasn’t left her face, and snicker amongst themselves.

“So, Layla, what were you and Jimmy talking about? Anything important that we should know, birdie?”

“Nothing at all, Bonzo. I do appreciate the concern, really, but don’t you worry your million dollar heads over it.”

“You know, that smirk isn't very reassuring, little dove. How do we know you didn’t break him somehow? I told you that outfit was gonna be a lot for him.”

“Well, I’m glad that someone had the balls to do something about the tension between you two, but I didn't think it’d be you, Layla.”

“And why not, Jonesy?”

Jonesy’s reply is cut short by the clacking of shoes on the floor, approaching the group. They look over, and Jimmy, seemingly recovered from the shock of lips meeting skin, walks into the room with a large smile creasing his pristine features. Taking hold of the glass of champagne Peter passes him, Jimmy tips it back.

“Tough night, Pagey?” Peter jokes, sipping from the glass in his hand, smiling as wide as ever.

“Not at all, Peter. Actually, my night got even better,” He sends a subtle glance over to Layla, confidence back in place, “Let’s get this party started.”

----------

What feels like daggers appear to be piercing her head as Layla awakes, mouth feeling like a barren desert. She turns over and is assaulted by the bright morning light, and shields her eyes from the onslaught. Finally adjusted to the sunlight streaming through the open windows. Layla takes in her surroundings, confusion evident on her drowsy face until she remembers the events of the night before. Jimmy’s birthday at the studio. The impromptu performance, the first sip of Jack Daniels burning its way down her throat like a kerosine blaze. Then it goes hazy, flashes of booming music and drunken dancing pound invisible fists against the inside of her head.

Layla, arm resting over her eyes to block out the world for just a little longer, misses the light click of the door opening, and startles when cold, callused fingertips press like droplets of rain to her sleep-warmed cheek. She looks at the offender, and sees wispy dark hair framing a porcelain face. Kaleidoscope eyes gaze into hers, a content smile resting on rose pink lips.

“Good morning, petal.”

“‘Morning, Jim.” Layla yawns, subtly pressing into the hand that now cupped her cheek.

“Are you feeling any better? Didn’t think a spitfire like you would be such a lightweight.”

“I’m gonna choose to ignore that comment,” Layla grumbles, wincing at the light chuckle Jimmy lets out. “I’m feeling a little better, thanks.”

“I’m glad. There’s some coffee waiting for you in the studio if you’re up for it. I’ll, uh... let you get dressed.”

Layla immediately becomes aware of the friction of the soft blanket against bare skin. The woman was left in her undergarments, thankfully, but the clothing she had been wearing from the night before was nowhere to be seen. Layla gasps, grasping at the retreating hand, the guitarist turning around to acknowledge her, cheeks blushing scarlet as he glimpses her exposed shoulder.

“Jim… Did we…?”

“What?”

“...”

“Oh. Oh, no. Last night, you indulged a little too much in our selection of drinks and, well… spilled about a litre all over your clothes,” Jimmy says, smirking at the woman in front of him. “I took you up here, and got the clothes into the wash. Don’t worry though, I turned around. There’s a change of clothes on the end of the couch.”

Layla laughs, squeezing the thin hand clasped in hers in thanks.

“Besides, petal, you deserve more than a drunken birthday fling. I’d kick myself if I didn't do this right.”

At this, the guitarist turns around, and walks out the door. Layla’s eyes bore into his retreating back, mouth hanging open at his admission and quick retreat. Standing finally, her eyes find the change of clothes on the end of the couch, just like Jimmy had said. A pair of black slacks, and a familiar silk shirt, a deep maroon in colour. Slipping them on and tying her hair into a low bun, she slips out of the room. The decadent smell of coffee tickles her nose as she walks on to the studio, and, nearing the door, she is met with the ever-present sound of laughter.

“Ah, look who finally decided to grace us with her very presence. I’m so honoured.”

“I’m just here cause I was promised coffee, Jonesy.”

“Cold, little dove. I thought we had something special here.” Fake tears are wiped from sun kissed cheeks, Bonzo and Jonesy hiding their smirks beneath their hands. Jimmy, who had been tasked with the making of the coveted coffee, looks over at the woman, chuckling softly.

“Well, blondie, if we had something special you’d have known that I need coffee in the morning to function,” she takes the steaming mug that the guitarist hands over, and takes a sip, a dreamy look on her face, “Jimmy is automatically the best out of all of you. He can make a great cup of coffee, and that’s enough for me.”

“Sure, that’s why he’s your favourite…”

“What was that, Bonzo?”

“...”

“Exactly what I thought.”

“Note to self: don’t talk to Layla before morning coffee. Got it.”

“Finally, you’re learning!”

The sound of footsteps approaching punctuates the end of the conversation, and Peter Grant rounds the corner, smiling ear to ear. Spotting Layla in the mix of his boys, Peter sends her an amicable wink, which earns him a grin in return.

“Good, you’re all here. Layla, are you all packed, dear?”

“Yep, all packed.”

“Wonderful. Our plane is due in just a few hours, so we’ll stop by your flat on the way. Next stop: Netherlands.”

Cheers sound from around the studio as the excitement for the upcoming tour ramps up. Peter silences the group, laughing, a tell-tale smirk settled on his lips.

“I must say… I think you’ll all find the ride there quite enjoyable. Even you, Pagey.”

----------

“A private jet?!”

“Her name is the Starship, but we’re accepting suggestions if you have a better idea.”

“Peter… This is…”

“Didn’t think it was possible to make the birdie speechless, I only know one person who can,” Bonzo meets Jimmy’s eyes then, a blush rising on the latter’s pale face. “Good job, Grant.”

“How did you even afford something like this?”

“My dear, I did mention that this was a very famous band, did I not?”

“Well, yeah, but… I was expecting like… The Black Keys level of popularity, not like, One Direction.”

“... Who?”

Layla catches Jonesy’s gaze, and when the man shakes his head minutely, eyes wide, she knows she messed up. Shit.

“Uh… Exactly! You guys are good, sure, but I thought you guys would be like… more underground, or something.”

Good save.

“Little dove, we’re like… one of the most popular bands in the world at the moment. You know, you really did pick a good day to almost get a concussion. Who knew that our Mr. Grant would be there?”

“Oh god… Boys… what if she had been snatched up by The Rolling Stones instead?”

“I have heard that Keith Richards has been getting all the women lately…” Jimmy says, hand moving to rub at his arm in mock anxiety, callused fingers catching ever-so-slightly on the lush green silk of his shirt. The mischief written all over his face exposed the ruse.

“Okay,” Layla starts, a smirk growing on her face in anticipation, “As much as I actively avoid saying it… you guys are pretty great. I’m glad I met all of you, and I won’t leave you for the Rolling Stones. How was that?”

“Acceptable.”

“Very sorry to interrupt this lovely moment, but the Starship awaits.” Peter says, smiling sheepishly at his intrusion, hand raised to show the majesty of the plane before them.

Piling into the aircraft, Layla is met with sleek silver and dark upholstery, yet another inkling as to how famous the boys really were. Strolling through the aircraft, Layla is stunned by the presence of a fully stocked bar, expensive spirits gleaming in the waning morning light. Walking to the comfortable sitting area, she gapes at the beautiful fireplace to her left.

“Is that safe?” she mutters under her breath, eyes wide as saucers, amazed at the level of luxury. This jet is more expensive than anything she’s ever seen, and she gets to experience it with her boys. As much as she’d like to return home, to her own time, this is a pretty great experience.

A sudden tap on the shoulder of the woman in question snaps her out of her thoughts, and, finally raising her eyes to spot the offender, she is greeted by the handsome face of Jimmy Page staring right back at her.

“Hey, petal. Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“Well…,” Layla jokes, giggling when she spots the hesitant look on the man’s face. “I’m just kidding, Jim. Of course, take a seat!”

Plopping down onto the couch beside her, the guitarist turns his body to face Layla, his full attention on the young woman beside him. Knee to knee with him, Layla can just barely smell the expensive cologne the man wears, mingling with the scent she now associates with the man: light accents of pine and citrus infused with warm, heady tobacco. Layla looks up at Jimmy then, and is struck by his beauty. His ebony ringlets fall to his shoulder, and, backlit by the afternoon sun streaming through the open plane windows, gives the impression of holiness. A sprinkling of subtle freckles look like stars falling across his cherubic face, and his eyelashes frame his perpetually tired eyes like a precious work of art. His eyes, a deep vivid emerald that she could get lost in forever, search the woman’s face, and it is when she looks down to study his angelic lips that she sees he is trying to speak to her.

“Earth to Layla,” Jimmy says, smiling shyly once he realizes that Layla was staring. He’s not as used to this silent reverence as he had expected. “Hello, is anybody in there?”

Shaking herself out of her reverie with a nod of her head, chestnut curls bouncing with the movement.

“Sorry, got a bit…. distracted… What were you saying, Jimmy?”

“I could tell, petal,” Jimmy scoffs, not unkindly, and Layla can see a pink tinge rising on his cheeks. “I was just wondering how you were doing. I mean, with everything that’s happened, of course.”

“You’re sweet, Jim. I’m… doing much better than I had expected,” Layla says, eyes softening as they roam over the worried face of the man next to her. “I woke up after the accident and thought I was done for, and then I met Peter, and… you, and the boys, and you were all so incredibly kind to me. I’m still trying to find a way to repay you guys.”

Her eyes stray from his face, then, to meet her shoes, preparing herself for what she is about to express.

“I know I can be too sarcastic, and I hold my cards too close to my chest, but I really do appreciate all of you. Even if I don’t always say it.”

Layla lays her hand on his then, looking into his eyes earnestly. Placing his own hand on top of hers, warmth seeping from one to the other, he shakes his head vehemently.

“Petal, you’re not some kind of burden that was left outside our door. I’m… We are glad we found you when we did. You’re not going to get rid of us that easily, Layla.”

“Damn, that was my goal.”

“I knew it. There’s another talented, devilishly handsome band you’re affiliated with, isn't there?”

“Jimmy, how do I say this… I’m so sorry. It was Keith Richards. I was lying to you guys earlier.”

“Just as long as it wasn’t Jeff Beck, or I’d have to have a talk with him.”

Smirks grow slowly on their faces, and they let out twin giggles, unconsciously drifting closer to one another. Their laughter soon fades, and they are left enraptured with each other once again, eyes never straying from their gaze on the other. Finally, Jimmy breaks the eye contact between them with a forced cough, and the pair turn away, hands still clasped absentmindedly.

Layla chances a look at the guitarist, who is apparently set on never looking at her again. Noticing how their hands are still interlocked, she gives his a light squeeze, and he looks over once more.

“Jimmy, I just… I really do want to thank you. For checking up on me, and for making me laugh, and just… Thank you.”

“Layla, it’s my pleasure,” Jimmy says, reaching a faintly shaking hand to push back a stray curl that had fallen in the woman’s face. “I care about you, and I want you to be happy. If I can make that happen for you, then I’m going to do it.”

Speechless, Layla can only squeeze his hand once more. Finally noticing the slight tremors that run through it, she looks up at Jimmy, whose jaw is clenched tightly, tension clear on his face.

“Jim, are you alright? Your hands are shaking…”

“Oh, I’m fine, petal. I just get a bit nervous on planes is all. It’ll pass.”

An idea comes to Layla then, and she stretches out her legs, shifting forward once more.

“Put your head in my lap and sleep through it, so you won’t be a bundle of nerves the whole time.”

“Layla, it really is fine—”

“Jimmy, just do it. You’ll never relax otherwise.”

“...Fine.”

Jimmy’s head comfortably placed on her lap, Layla threads her fingers through the tastefully messy curls, and, minutes later, Jimmy is out like a light. Satisfied, she leans back, hand still buried deep in the raven locks, and dozes off as well. The pair sleep on, oblivious to the snickering of the rest of the band, and the shutter click of Robert’s camera.

----------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 (let me know if you want to be added!)

[chibi-pix]

It is official. The fic for Raising Paladins is finally finished being uploaded.  And I want to talk about it. 

Warning, post may contain some spoilers.

I’ve spent more than a year uploading this fic and it was worth it. But did you know that it took me only a year to write? No really! 

Of course, the modified dates are when I did my edits for uploading.  Anyway! It took me a year to write this fic and that was an amazing feat. I feel both proud and overwhelmed about this all.  There were moments where I actually doubted myself in this fic. Where I wasn’t sure I was doing well and that it wasn’t... worth it. But I kept pushing those thoughts towards the incinerator.  At times it felt like this fic would never end. It felt like it was going on and on, but here it is, seventy seven chapters and it’s finished. 

There were chapters where I wasn’t pleased. I hated them so I rewrote them. This is especially true with chapters 17 and 18, both of which have two written versions. Other chapters have faced rewrites, rethinks, and being scrapped. But in the end, I pulled through with writing them. 

I’m going to be honest. Before actually writing this fic, I never planned on two OCs, Drek and Kullo. But they were seen in a drawing with taunting Pidge before she tackles Drek in frustration. However, I adored them more and more, so I drew them again and again and before I knew it, they were developing back stories and becoming OCs for this AU. It was good, though, because Pidge needed friends before she got to meet the others. 

Okay, this one is spoiler. I actually didn’t plan for Sam to survive. I had originally planned for him to be killed to break Pidge so that Haggar could finally control her. However, another part of my brain decided different. Though not as dark as I originally planned this fic to be, it still has its moments, even with Sam surviving. It felt good to have him survive and return to his family.

One thing that has probably been in thought since the get-go was Sendak. I wanted him to have a moment where he realizes himself and situation and he joins the protagonists. I wanted to have him have this moment, let him be good. 

There was an earlier draft of Raising Paladins that won’t see the light of day. Instead of captured at the space base we see in the beginning, Pidge was supposed to be found in the space mall or something, a small child being sold as some exotic pet. This would insinuate that something happened to Earth and she was captured; others perhaps would have been, too. It would be there that Haxus and Sendak find her while getting supplies or taking a break, and Haxus would want to take her in, thinking she looked sad and shouldn’t be in a cage.  However, the idea was changed to what we have now, even giving Haxus opening to a Blade of Marmora agent.  Fun fact, when I first started watching VLD, which was in 2019 I think since I was late to the party, I wanted Haxus to actually be a rebel against the empire, show to be good and help take down Sendak. This was before I even knew about the Blade of Marmora or that there were good Galra. I had hopes. But those hopes didn’t stand. Oh well. At least I got him as a BoM agent in this fic.  Which, another fun fact, this isn’t my first time working with Haxus as a BoM agent. In the unfinished, unpublished Altean Born, Olkari Raised, or ABOR, au and fic, he becomes an agent there after changing sides. 

This next part is also spoiler. Another thing that was hit or miss was Pidge’s features changing. I loved the scars to begin with and the streak of white hair she has. Those were fun. But then giving her an opportunity to have all white hair was amazing.  I had questioned myself on the Altean marks she gets later on. But I found a way to make them work. And I’m actually pleased in the end.  I was also pleased with getting others injured when her hair first turned all white. It gave me an excuse to scar everyone, and Shiro further. Giving Keith and Matt the scars we see in canon and giving them an excuse in this AU was grand. And having Shiro lose his arm? I liked it. I even liked the touch of Lance losing the use of his eye. I loved having Pidge be the reason for their injuries, but I also love that they don’t blame her. They understand her situation and know it’s not her fault. That’s a good team and family.

Anyway, I spent so long on this fic. And I’m happy in the end. I’m pleased at how well things have gone. And I want to thank you guys.  Silent fans who leave guest kudos to those who are seen to be giving kudos, those who comment, those who don’t, those who hit like or reblog when I share the updates on here. Everyone. Thank you all so much. I appreciate the love shown and it makes me happy. 

I’m happy to finish this fic and I’m happy to have gone on this journey with you all.

Anyway, that’s all I wanted to talk about.  Until next time.

[ebhenah]

 Gloriously Weird

#Fictober19 Prompt: 5. I might just kiss you.

Fandom: Voltron

Pairing: Older, Married Keith/Lance; background Krolia/Kolivan; background Allura/Romelle; background OC/OC

Rating: T (language, no warnings apply)

Wordcount: 2015

Tags: domestic fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, klance kids, klance raising teenagers, rocky horror picture show references, Keith has a younger brother, flashback sequence, smitten hubbies, brief mention of medical support device

Read on AO3 Part of the Future Klance Family Fics Series

 “So... uhhh... who are you supposed to be?” Lance asked, knocking the fridge door closed with his hip. His brother-in-law stopped fiddling with his hair and shot him an incredulous look, “you can’t tell?”

“I have my theories... but I didn’t think the kids would be able to convince you to take part in the whole ‘group costume’ thing they’ve got going on this year. Did they?”

“I love my niece and nephews, Lance,” Yorak growled, tugging at his jacket uncomfortably.

There it was. The growl. He had no idea why the kid insisted on doing it, but every. single. time. they were in the same room, Yory ended up growling at him. Despite assurances to the contrary, Lance was sure the kid couldn’t stand him, but whatever. Lance had known him since birth and he was family, so little Yorak Gayth of the plentiful growls could just deal with the fact that Keith’s husband loved him, even when he was a little shit.

“So... that’s a yes,” Lance fought the urge to smirk. It was a decent costume, especially considering that the Galra had no equivalent to Halloween for Keith’s brother to draw on. “Did you pick this one, or was it assigned to you by a certain girl with big, blinky eyes and the ability to make her uncles cave in ten seconds flat?”

“I didn’t really care what costume I got,” shrugging, Yory glanced through the door and up the stairs to where the others were still getting ready. “Everyone else did.”

There wasn’t a strong resemblance between Keith and Yorak, mostly due to the fact that Keith looked human and Yorak, being full-blooded Galra... didn’t. Krolia’s son with Kolivan was probably going to end up being a huge guy, but he was currently just shy of his eighteenth birthday and was even more slight than Keith had been at that age. At the moment, he was wearing a tailcoat tux over a false hump. His coloring and markings matched his father’s pretty closely, but the eyes... those were his mother’s, and so was the sharp chin and comparatively delicate ears. (Oddly, this particular combination of bone structure and coloring made Yorak look a lot like Axca, and he was often confused for her sibling or child.) 

Even now, Lance couldn’t see Yorak in profile without having the memory of the first time Keith had gotten to hold him flood him. 

Keith had been a wreck. 

The whole pregnancy had been difficult for him, but the few hours between the announcement of the arrival of a healthy son and Keith getting to see the reality of it for himself were... a whole new level of stress. They’d already been en route to the station that was serving as a temporary home to Lance’s in-laws with Thace in tow. Galra babies were tinier than Lance expected. Yorak had been barely five pounds and was seen as being an unusually robust newborn. 

After greeting an exhausted but happy Krolia, Lance had hung back and given Keith some space to adjust to the shift in his family. He’d been nervous and skittish and kept glancing to Lance and Thace like they were a touchstone... and in a way, maybe they were. Maybe they reminded him that even if his worst fears panned out, he wouldn’t be alone again. No matter how enthralled Krolia became with the son she didn’t have to leave behind, Keith had a husband who loved him, a son that adored him, and a family in Voltron that had been forged in battle and peace and he would never, ever be isolated again.

Yorak had been sleeping, nestled against Kolivan’s chest, a blanket draped over the tiny boy. When he’d woken, Kolivan had quietly, confidently handed him to a very surprised and nervous Keith with the soft command to ‘meet your brother’ and Lance had gotten to watch his husband fall in love with a sibling he’d only been able to see as a threat until that very moment. 

Just like he had when Thace had been born and placed in his arms, Keith melted. His breath had escaped him in a soft coo, one fingertip tracing the line of the baby’s brow and the shell of that tiny, softly fuzzed, pointed ear. Yorak had rooted around like he was hungry and Keith had offered a knuckle for him to gnaw on. “Hey,” Keith had whispered, “I’m your big brother..”

Yory wasn’t often around, due to the nomadic nature of life for the remaining Blade members, but when he was, he spent as much time with the kids as he did with Keith- their relationship closer to that of cousins than uncle and niblings because they were all around the same age. This time around, that meant the Galran youth was getting to join them at the Halloween Dance that the school was throwing. The twins and Talia’s boyfriend had each listed one of the non-students in the group as their official guest, which meant that Yory, who had never been enrolled in the Atlas school system and Thace and his girlfriend Juanita, who’d graduated in the spring, could attend.

“The costume looks great,” Lance reassured him, his attention returning tot he present moment. “Have you even seen the movie?”

Yorak nodded, “it was... odd. But I liked the music!”

Lance chuckled, “yeah, Rocky Horror is kind of gloriously weird. Ahh! There they are!”

Rai was the first one to descend the stairs and his costume actually managed to leave his Papi speechless. Rai was the quiet one! He didn’t like being the center of attention! When the kids had told Lance of their plans, he never, ever, ever would have figured that sixteen year old Rai would be the one to dress as Frankie! Granted- it was the most modest of the Frankie costume options: old-fashioned surgical garb, long pink rubber gloves, clunky heels, pearls, and a full wig and make-up combo- but, still! “You look great!” he gushed, because it was the truth. They’d even gone so far as to splatter him with some fake blood and arm him with a plastic pickaxe. 

“Thanks, Papi! Oh, hey, Yory!” Rai punched his uncle lightly in the shoulder by way of greeting, “you look awesome! Tonight is going to be a blast.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Yory answered, relaxing a little.

The girls were next- Talia as Magenta and Juanita as Columbia, also both in the more modest costume choices from the surgical scene, with white aprons and paper masks over the maid outfit and tap shorts. They were closely trailed by Thace, dressed as Eddie. With his skin powered and painted to be corpse-pale, his brown hair darkened to black courtesy of Halloween hairspray, and the combination of the leather jacket with the slight snarl he looked eerily like Keith had at his age and Lance had to take a moment... because... “Quiznak, you are all so grown up! How did that happen? Keith! Come see the kids before they go!!”

“We can’t go anywhere just yet,” Talia pointed out, fussing with her costume so the compact oxygen tank strapped to her leg was better hidden. “Bailey is meeting up with us here!”

“Besides,” grinned Juanita, “I’m sure you are going to want to get pictures of us, Mr. McClain!”

“See? You get me, Juanita!” He answered, “it’s why you are my favorite.”

“Your favorite? How many girlfriends has Thace had??” she laughed, but Thace was glaring daggers at him.

“Just you, mijita,” he answered easily, “proving how smart my boy is.”

“You’re the only one allowed to call him ‘Mr. McClain’, too,” Keith pointed out, appearing behind Lance without warning and slipping his arms around him.

Lance squawked, reaching down automatically to pet the massive space wolf, “did you seriously just Kosmo-poof out here from the next room? That seems excessive!”

“That’s only because it was so confusing with me calling you both ‘Mr. Kogane’ and I wouldn’t use his first name!” “My first name is still a valid option. You can always call me Lance. You know that.”

“I could never!” she protested, “my Mami would throw chanclas! She’d know!”

Keith shook his head. He didn’t really understand, but Lance did, and that was all that really mattered.Dropping a little kiss to the curve of Lance’s neck he turned his attention back to the kids, “okay... we’ve got... Eddie and Columbia, Magenta and Riff Raff, and... of course... Frankie. So, we are missing... who are we missing?”

“Brad and Janet,” Lance pointed out, “the supposed leads.”

“That’s gonna be Bailey’s friend Silas and his girlfriend Elodie,” Talia answered eagerly. “They’re doing the wedding outfits and she showed me pics and they are gonna look soooo adorable!”

“We don’t have a Dr. Scott,” Rai pointed out, just as the door buzzer went off and Talia pushed past him to answer it. “But a few of the kids from class are going to be revelers.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a good bunch of kids working together,” Keith chuckled. “You should get the good camera, Tumbleweed... you’ve got to get your requisite four hundred pictures, and we don’t want to hold them up!”

“Do you remember my mother’s reaction to the lack of pictures from Thace’s first Christmas?” Lance muttered, reluctantly stepping out of the ring of his husband’s arms, “because I remember and I have no interest in repeating that whole mess!”

By the time he returned with the camera, the group was complete. “Bailey,” he said evenly, smiling at the boy and faltering a little. Seriously, what was he supposed to say to the teenager dressed in gold booty shorts and a liberal dusting of body glitter? Any compliment he could come up with would be seriously creepy for him to say to his daughter’s boyfriend. “You... make a great Rocky.” That wasn’t too bad, right? 

“Everyone looks great,” Keith agreed. Lance fought the urge to glare at him for taking the easy way out and lumping all the kids together, because it was petty to punish his husband for thinking of something that Lance hadn’t and Lance was better than that, dammit.

Familiar with the routine by now, all the kids squished together in the frame and smiled as he snapped picture after picture of them until Keith declared them done. They did a quick run through of the rules (which Lance was sure that Yory would find some way to circumvent, as per usual) and Keith double checked that they all had sufficient spending money for snacks at the bake sale table.

“Have fun,” he said as he closed the door behind them. 

Keith glanced at the clock on the wall, “so... it’s six now- when does the dance wrap up?”

“Eleven,” he replied, automatically moving to sort the tangle of shoes  that was taking over the entrance.

“So, five hours, plus an hour of milling around and dawdling at the various quarters on their way back here.”

“Mmhmmm... want to put on a movie for us to watch with Kashi and Lucas?”

“They aren’t here,” Keith grinned at him. “I sent them off for sleepovers! Kashi is with Pidge, and Lucas is keeping Romelle and Alban company while Allura and Coran are on New Altea- she promised to make pie. I’ve never seen that kid pack so fast!”

“When did you do that?”

“While you were catching up with my brother. Kosmo dropped them off. Sooo,” he tugged Lance into his arms, ignoring the soccer cleat in his free hand, “we’ve got the evening to ourselves, Tumbleweed. What do you think of that?”

“I think,” he answered, looping his arms around Keith’s neck and smiling into that handsome face, “I might just kiss you.”

“You might?”

“Oh no... you heard that wrong, babe. I am definitely gonna kiss you. I might just kiss you... but I’ll probably do a lot more than that... you know... if you’re interested.”

"I love you," Keith laughed, eyes dancing, "of course I'm interested."

"Good... and I love you, too."

[starfaring-princelotor]

Thinking Ahead

Summary: Lotor realizes that the feelings he has been harboring are not what they seem. 

Pairings: Lotor x F!Reader

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I kindly ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. Thank you. ★

Warnings: Dirty thoughts, underage drinking.

Future Sight___Historic Significance___No Time Like The Present___Thinking Ahead ___Best Friends

“Here you go, two cups of black tea.”

Romelle, bright eyed and equally bright haired student of Hufflepuff, placed two dishes of tea in front of you and Lotor. Professor Trelawney’s reasoning for “switching up partners” is so people would not be too familiar with each other. That way, everyone could get a true taste of variety amongst their peers. Unfortunately for her, she was oblivious to you and Lotor’s growing friendship.

“Ugh, this tea is so bitter.”

“Yes, I will admit, this is not one of my more preferred flavors.”

Black tea was too strong on your palette, but at least the temperature of the drink was perfect. Not too hot, not too cold, and you couldn’t help but grin when Lotor sent you a pointed look the second you started sipping loudly. Where are your manners? You had none, not for some tea leaves fortune telling crap.

“Have you ever had sweet berry hibiscus tea?” you asked out of the blue, peeking at him over the edge of your tiny cup.

“I have. The fruity flavor is delightful with a side coconut jelly,” somehow, this meager chitchat made the bitter liquid bearable, “I took a trip to Maui one summer. Oh, so humid, but not as hot as I would have expected. The locals were, ahem, generous and kind beyond measure. Of course, after they accept you, the ridicule for being a tourist never ends.”

You smiled at hearing that, finding some sort of cruel glee in his suffering, “Yeah? They call you old man because of your hair?”

“Oh, come now, surely that insult is as old as time itself,” he chuckled then grinned at the challenge, “No, no, they playfully poked that I am a fish when it comes to surfing. I quote, ‘Floundering and wiggly.’”

Now, the two of you laughed, and unbeknownst to either of you, Allura’s attention was not so subtly focused on the happy duo. Or at least, how happy Lotor seemed. Romelle took her seat across from her, tilted her head when she received no recognition from her close friend, then followed her line of sight. A mild annoyance began creeping up her spine then she gently slid a hand to cover Allura’s dainty ones, a show of support and a way to garner her full attention.

“Allura?”

The Princess stayed silent for a moment more before tearing her gaze away, offering Romelle a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Yes? Pardon me, ready for some tea?”

The concerned look reflecting Romelle’s eyes did not go unnoticed. Nor did the soft way her thumb was gently rubbing over the Princess’ knuckles out of instinctual comfort. They talked about this before, talked about her and Lotor’s previous relationship several times over when she felt those feelings creep back up in her heart. You were right when reading her palm: Allura had an insecure heart, even a year after her relationship with him took a turn for the worst.

But that was not why she was intently watching you two right now.

“Are you alright?” or rather, will she be alright?

“Yes, I am quite fine, thank you,” the Princess picked up her teacup and rest her mouth on the lip, “...Actually, I think I am just...concerned.”

“Concerned? You know he can not hurt you anymore, Allura.”

“Not for me, no. I mean for her.”

A spark of jealousy welled up in Romelle, but she quickly tampered it down before it could be known. You and Allura were not friends. Acquaintances, perhaps, but even so, she could understand the Princess’ bleeding heart for others. Especially in situations that didn’t include her, or need to include her at all. She only wished for the safety for everyone and the blonde girl couldn’t blame her. She cared too much for people and it did get her hurt more than once.

This was not new information to Romelle.

She sipped from her cup then glanced at Lotor, taking keen interest in him when he drank from his own cup, “Allura, do you think he’d hurt her? Maybe we should talk to Shiro about this…”

The Princess finally took a gulp of her tea, hoping it would relax her nerves, “No, that won’t be necessary. I’d rather not involve anyone else unless he - Unless I start to notice something. I really am trying to take your advice into practice.”

As in, don’t get in too deep in other people’s lives, ex’s included. It was just hard to do so when the man you once loved is giving someone else that same exact look she felt for him. Or at least, she thought she felt. A year later and it was still so very confusing for her fragile heart. Allura gently squeezed her friend’s hand in sincere apology.

“I am sorry for making you worry,” she continued, “Let’s enjoy this tea, yes?”

Romelle doubted the enthusiasm plastered over Princess Allura’s face, but she knew no words would soothe her troubled mind right now.

Lotor laid in bed with Kova perched on his shoulders, his tail loosely wrapped around the Prince’s neck. The cat would have rather been laying in his lap, but it was already preoccupied with an open book. There were words scribbling fast across the page, yet they appeared not by Lotor’s hand. No, the writing was too big, too loopy to be his.

I nearly threw the book into the fire when you wrote back. You should’ve told me at the dance! Nearly scared me to death. Thought one of the ghosts possessed it or something.

He reached over to his bedside table and picked up his quill. The nub was wearing down. Soon, he would need a new one.

You would willingly traverse into the Forbidden Forest past midnight, but a two-way journal scares you?

I’m a Ravenclaw, not a Gryffindor. Bravery is not in my blood.

Lotor grinned at that. Yes, curiosity and bravery were not of the same definitions.

Did your tea reading spook you of the future?

Why would I believe soggy, yucky leaves telling me I’m going to be attacked?

Maybe it is a sign. Watch out for puddles.

After that, the Prince drew a surprisingly detailed puddle, but then added a stick figure to represent you. There was a frown on your face and he could already imagine the indignant noise you’d make once seeing his creative masterpiece. To his surprise, ink started sketching as an image of, what he could only assume, was HIM appeared over the water. Was that... was that him on his broom? Lotor chuckled in mirthful amusement.

My ears are not that big.

In response, you drew his hair longer. Excessively longer. Rapunzel length longer. Then, the moon appeared. Full, just like that night, and little stars dotting the vacant sky. Lotor’s heart softened at the image you were drawing, not at all thinking about how he was connecting the dots and making constellations here and there. It wasn’t until he saw a single, long line stretch from the bottom of the page to the top and stop there did he tilt his head in confusion.

No more words? Ah. You must’ve fallen asleep on him. It was well past midnight anyways. You had a good idea. Before he decided to snuggle under the comforter in search of dreamland, he wrote three little words. Three little heartfelt words that he knows you’ll see come morning.

Good night, darling.

Lotor’s brows scrunched up in offense at watching you read. Well, he was trying to read, but his eyes caught such a despicable act to nature he had to put his own studies on halt just to make sure he was not dreaming a horrid nightmare. He cleared his throat softly, just enough to catch your attention.

“I had no idea you lick your thumb before turning pages.”

Almost comically, your tongue was still stuck out just as you were about to wet it, “I know, it’s a disgusting habit -”

“Very. Remind me to never lend you any of my books.”

You had to suppress a laugh at his squinty face, almost like he found a fly in his five-star bowl of clam chowder. This time, instead of using your thumb, you swiped the page with the tip of your wand. It seemed this pleased him more than your gross saliva tainting the books and spreading unknown germs to others. Or even to yourself! Who knows how many people have touched these books?

“And remind me never to touch any of your books, too.”

You rolled your eyes yet kept a playful grin plastered on your lips, “One of my favorite stories is World War Z. Have you read it?”

“The one about zombies? Really? That one is the best book you can think of?” Lotor arched his brow, attention focused on you now instead of his own reading, “You know zombies can never really happen.”

“Shh! It could totally happen, y’know. If science can go wrong, why can’t magic? They wouldn’t’ve made reversal spells if magic was perfect.”

“Pardon me, did you just say…” he squinted at you even more, “W...wouldn’t’ve?”

Now, he was baffled at yet another phenomenon you showed him. Unnecessary contractions. Lotor blinked like you just grew another pair of lips on your face, which nearly made you chortle a bit too loud in the quiet library. No other students would even consider staying this late in the archives for fun, yet good company was all you two needed, location be damned.

“You have been hanging around Keith too much, darling,” he reprimanded, yet you didn’t take it at all seriously, “Next thing I know, you will be a brooding jar of angst who mopes in bed all day. Oh, wait, that DID happen.”

It was your turn to scoff in mock offense. How dare he grin that catty grin after openly poking fun at your expense? You almost wanted to retaliate by flicking a paper ball at him. Almost, and you only decided against it when you saw his eyes shine in delighted mirth, half his face hidden behind a book. It was...nice. Not his weak insult, no, but rather the friendly familiarity was quite refreshing between you two.

“Oh, yeah? Well, at least I don’t...I don’t…”

“Hm? Yes? You do not what? Use your words, dear.”

“Hmph, at least I don’t...Gah, I can’t think of anything!”

Lotor wasn’t flawless, but it was kind of hard to think of one, singular trait you could joke about on the spot. And he knew this. He reveled in making you fumble over your words because, although you were smart, you still needed at least a day warning to come up with a worthy insult. Meanwhile, the scrutinizing observer he was, he could pick at you till the sun comes up.

“It is alright. Take your time,” he nonchalantly turned a page, that air of victory surrounding his smug self, “You can say it tomorrow when you are ready.”

“Quietly. You do not want us to get caught, do you?”

As silently as you could, you lifted your foot and gently tapped the stone with every step you took. How Lotor could pull off being so stealthy, you had no clue. Magic, probably. He was leading you up many flights of stairs in a part of the castle you were not familiar with. Was this the Slytherin wing? No, there weren’t even any pictures on the cobblestone walls. Where exactly were you?

“Ugh, wait, let me - “ you knelt down quickly, slipping off your clunky shoes and allowing the cold stone to seep through your socks, “Okay. Okay, where are we going?”

One hand in his, the other now holding your scuffed shoes, Lotor decided against giving you a firm answer. Instead, he turned over his shoulder, sent you a quick wink along with his signature trusting smile. You stumbled gracefully, blaming the uneven stairs for fault, yet he was strong enough to still prevent you from kissing the floor.

“We are almost there...if you would stop tripping,” cue smile transforming into a playful grin, an excited grin, like a boy ready to see the fireworks start.

“Well, maybe if someone didn’t have mile-long legs, I wouldn’t have to sprint to keep up,” you huffed, that is, until the two of you came across a large gap.

The chasm below, oh stars, how high up did you two travel? This was at least 50 stories high. It was a miracle the stairs were even holding up at all, as decrepit this building was. But...there, across the death hole, was a door which you could only assume was where he was planning on leading you. Before you could even ask him a question, Lotor released your hand then effortlessly leaped across the gap, landing calculated and ever so majestically.

And maybe a little smug when he met your slack-jawed face.

“That is so unfair.”

“Jump. I will help you, do not worry. The gap is not as big as you think.”

You were half nervous and half...excited? It must be because of your curiosity peaking at the sight of the ornate curved door. Surely, no one else would even consider venturing forth with the prospect of a very long drop right in front of them. But Lotor said he would help. Lotor said not to worry. Yet, you shuffled in spot, calculating how much of a running start you would need to make it across.

Meanwhile, the Prince was way too amused seeing you hesitate. He held out his arms as if offering a hug, trying to lure you in with the trust he carefully built with you.

“You drop me, I haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Duly noted, darling.”

That gap...was it just you, or was it getting bigger? Before you could let your nerves get the best of you, Lotor sent you a nod of encouragement and you exhaled a heavy breath. Shaking your arms, you backed up a bit then took a running start, leaping with all the strength in your legs. Don’t look down. Don’t look -

Oh, fuck. Too late. And now, you realized your jump wasn’t nearly as far as it should have been. One foot landed on the edge and Lotor’s instincts immediately kicked in, his strong arms winding around your midsection to pull you close for security. You weren’t sure who made the “eep” noise, no, certainly not you, but you definitely heard him chuckle when your hands clung onto him for dear life.

Your heart was beating so fast. If you were listening closely, you could hear his, too.

“See? That was not so difficult, now was it?” Lotor took a few cautious steps away from the hole, noting your legs were shaking like a newborn foal, “Come, you - ah - dear, your nails…”

You stubbornly shook your head, refusing to let go of your hug as he guided you through the door, “Forests, fine. Flying over a lake? Fine. Leap of death? No. Next time, give me a piggyback ride. I’m not doing that again.”

The door closed behind you two and it was Lotor shrugging you gently to pull your face out of the safe confines of his chest. A dead fireplace, cushions, some thick blankets, half a ceiling missing. This place was in shambles, but it did make you feel more lax, more safe, more secluded. Lotor’s arms fell to his sides to let you explore the humble room, moon missing tonight and sky shimmering with distant stars.

“Here,” the Prince picked up a folded blanket, spreading it out and over your shoulders, “It is only going to get colder and we will be here for a while.”

“Oh...it’s…” the view from up here, so close to the clear sky, you almost felt like you could pluck a gem or two from the night, “You brought me here to stargaze? They look so much clearer tonight.”

Some more shuffling and Lotor wrapped his own thick comforter around his body then sat on a chilled cushion. There was no wind tonight, thank goodness, otherwise this trip he carefully planned might have ended prematurely. Footing your own cushion closer to his side, you also plopped next to your tall friend while tucking your blanket tighter in your chest. Neither of you minded that you two were, as they say, attached at the hip.

“Not only that. Just wait. Give it a few minutes,” Lotor angled his head upwards, nebulous eyes reflecting those twinkling stars and anticipating the phenomenal show to start.

You mimicked him, orbs searching for something in the sky, anything other than those countless dots swimming in the night. Lo and behold, you saw something flicker. And another, this time longer. A shooting star? Many! Many shooting stars blinking in sight, and just like that, you perked up in amazement, in the awe Lotor witnessed that night at the moonstone lake. Lips parted, iris darting across the sky to catch each falling star, you saw 10, no, 12 pass by in the mere minutes you were sitting here.

The cold didn’t bother you anymore, “That’s...that’s like, 12 wishes!”

16 now and soon you would no doubt lose count with how frequently they appeared. You couldn’t keep up with his freckles, shooting stars even less.

“I can’t...think of more than 3 wishes,” your mouth scrunched up in a corner, “I wish tests weren’t so hard.”

“That, my dear, could easily be handled if you studied more,” he reached to his satchel and pulled out two green mugs, “If I recall correctly, the Muggle world believe wishes can be granted by magic, no?”

Your attention diverted to the cup he placed in your lap, fingers deftly picking it up and noticing it...empty. “Yeah, they believe that if you blow a dandelion in the wind, your wish comes true, too. Other things like, uh...something about ladybugs? And eyelashes? A bit silly, isn’t it?”

And yet, he has a suspicious feeling in his gut you tried every possible wishing device at your disposal. Lotor pulled out his wand then gently tapped the rim of his cup, warm dark liquid instantly filling it to tipping point. The steam wafted in the air and you noticed a few mini marshmallows floating in his drink, clumping together in the sea of sweetness. No sooner were you able to voice your question of “How did you do that?!” did he use magic to fill your cup, as well. Less marshmallows, but no complaints from you.

“Well, magic does not have to make sense,” Lotor spoke with a hint of cockiness and, after taking a sip of his drink, he hummed in thought, “Needs a bit more of a...kick, no?”

“A...kick?” you raise da brow, carefully drinking a small portion before smacking your lips together, “Peppermint cocoa? Didn’t take you as a sweets kinda guy.”

“I adore sweets. Chocolate frogs are one of my favorite delicacies,” he admitted, hiding the fact that he also...collected those cards in the package as a hobby.

Lotor pulled out a bottle. A dark bottle, label unreadable in the dim room, then he popped the top off with one strong flick of his thumb. He poured a generous amount of what looked like milky coffee in his cup before offering the tip to you. Whatever it was, there was a whiff of sugary sweetness and, oh...that was alcohol. Faint, but it was there, and you shot a bewildered look at him.

“The Prince drinks alcohol? What would the Slytherin housemaster say?” you feigned shock and, even in the dark, you could see his glowing eyes roll at your words.

“Hush, you. Alcohol is commonly referred to ‘liquid courage,’ no?” to his delight, you held your drink up and he poured a small amount for now, “After seeing your...flawless bravery over that hole, I think some liquid courage would somewhat embolden you.”

You sipped. You sputtered. You stuck out your tongue, somehow thinking it would help get that ghastly bitter burn off your palette.

“Oh, this is - this is disgusting!” and yet, you took another sip, maybe the second time around wouldn’t taste as bad, “How can you drink this stuff? Blegh…”

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. Yes, this must’ve been your first drink, but in his mind, it was not strong at all. Still, seeing your blatant dislike of it, he brought his wand up and prepared to magically whisk away your drink and give you fresh hot cocoa. It was you who cradled your mug away from him, holding it like you were preserving a precious, rare golden apple.

“Oh? So, you DO like it, I see,” Lotor’s eyes cataloged the blush gracing your cheeks, either from embarrassment at playing keep-away or from the drink warming up your body.

“Now, I didn’t say that,” you leaned against him, placing all your weight on the sturdy Prince, “I should try it...a third time. And fourth. And fifth. Then I will give you my five-minute review of your peppermint hot cocoa.”

This was so dangerous, sneaking out this late, drinking alcohol, but it was giving you a sense of acceptance, of fun, hanging out with Lotor with no judgement from anyone. No student roles under a teacher’s gaze or homework to be done before noon or responsibilities other than caring for each other in the most spirited of company. Goodness, was he always this warm? You lifted his arm and tucked yourself against him, figuring double blankets would keep you two cozier longer throughout the night. .

“If you fall asleep, do not drool on me. I will wake you, dear.”

Your eyes scanned the page, mouth silently reciting the spell so you could memorize it by heart. Though, with your previous attempts that came out for naught, you knew this was going to be difficult. It was almost as if your wand was purposely refusing to work with you. While the rest of the class was practicing with success, you glared with determination at the potted plant in front of you. Unblooming. It looked nearly dead, to be honest.

“Morning dew, nightly rain

Bring this rose to bloom again.”

Three flicks of your wand, each punctuated at the end of a verse, yet all the plant did was...wilt. And with it, so did your spirit. To your right, before you could even see his smarmy grin, Lotor hummed in amusement at your failed attempts. Rude. You saw out of the corner of your eye that his potted plant, well, blooming was too nice of a word. It was flourishing. Practically a mini rose bush now, orange of all ugly colors.

“Don’t laugh,” you pouted, trying not to take his mockery at heart and knowing this was just him being a little shit again, “I’m trying.” “Maybe if you said it correctly, it would work. Here,” Lotor faced his already beautiful plant then cleared his throat, voice clear and loud, “Morning dew, nightly rain, bring this rose to bloom again.”

It grew twice its size, nearly tipping the pot. You grumbled, a low “show off” muttered from your lips.

“Now, your turn,” he faced you, watching your every move, from the flick of your wrist to the posture you held, “Your voice must be loud and clear.”

Again, you mumbled, both at his instruction and this dumb plant that wasn’t listening to you. The Prince tsk’d, your behavior and discouragement making him cross his arms. This was stern Lotor now. Not quite the same from the forest, but close enough that if you didn’t heed his advice, he would definitely leave you to fail over and over again.

“Sit up. Do not slouch,” he watched you do as he commanded, “Hold your wand at a 45 degree angle near the plant’s base. Now, LOUD and CLEAR.”

“I don’t like raising my voice,” you finally admitted...stubbornly.

Lotor narrowed his eyes slightly at the excuse. He reached over and scooted the plant closer to you then lifted your chin up with a finger. His eyes didn’t miss the way you stiffened in your seat nor how you easily surrendered to one of his slender digits. For a quick second, his mind flashed to what else he could do to you with just a single finger.

“You do not have to be loud, then. Clear. How will your wand hear you? How will the plant hear you? Now, try again.”

“Tch, now who is the pushy one, huh?”

“You could fail and lose house points. Your choice.”

“Bah! Fine, fine, just - don’t watch me.”

He wouldn’t watch you directly, but he was listening intently now, just to make sure you spoke the spell clearly. Or blow up your plant on accident. A few minutes passed and when you cheered a “Yes, finally!” under your breath, he knew you got it to work on the 6th try. By HIS guidance, no less, but still, it was the results that mattered in the end. A nudge at his side and he raised a groomed brow at you, eyes obviously waiting for a sign of gratitude.

“I don’t like yellow roses. Can I change the colors?” you flipped through ahead of the book, going to the more advanced spells, and he had to stop himself from rubbing the headache forming at his temples.

Fool. Mumbling idiot. You were going to accidentally change the color of your skin if you weren’t careful.

A strange thought crossed his mind then. Were you always this...imbecilic?

Lotor felt sick today. A cold, no doubt, or a fever? He wasn’t sure, but the tonic the nurse gave him only helped temper his body a little bit. The drapes were pulled together to keep his entire room dark and a thick layer of blankets covered his form. Oh, but he was breaking out a sweat now, his least favorite part about being ill. Aside from the migraines, of course.

The journal glowed a faint blue hue by his bedside, the light actually intensifying his headache. You were writing in it, most likely waiting for him to reply, but he was too aching to move any of his limbs. The sick Prince knew that a distraction would help him avert his mind from focusing on his soreness, yet part of him just wanted to...ugh, that brightness was getting on his blasted last nerve.

With all the strength he could summon, he grabbed the book and stuffed it inside the drawer. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Sleep and silence were his best cure for his shut-in self. Eyes drooping slowly, he buried his face into the lush pillow then willed his mind to shut up. For five minutes, just five, let the comforting arms of sleep embrace me. Wish granted.

Though, he roused at the soft rapping of knuckles on his door. He had no idea how long he was knocked out. Could be an hour, could be a day. He wanted no visitors, so who dared…?

A turn of a knob and your face, as well as the hallways blinding light, leaked into the room. His silver brows knotted in annoyance and, with a peek from one eye, he tried to dig even more into his pillow to avoid you. Sick Lotor was an unhappy Lotor. A warning from Ezor when they had reluctantly let you in their wing and led you to the grumpy Prince’s private room. Your footsteps indicated you were right besides his bed, probably just looking down at him in pity. The thermos in your hand suddenly felt a little worthless, but you stood firm in your wavering thoughts.

“Hey, Lotor?” a rumbling grunt as a response, not the friendliest, but you understood his frustration, “Figured you were, uh...y’know, under the weather.”

“I am not sad. I am sick,” came his muffled reply, followed by a cough, “...And tired. Very tired.”

Yes, you know the wretched side effects of being sick. You may be going to a wizarding school, but illnesses still affected everyone. Why couldn’t magic whisk it away? Taking a seat at the edge of his bed, being mindful of his space and the fresh scent of mint wafting in the air, you offered him a soft pat pat on his elbow. Instantly, he cringed into himself, the touch both welcome and a little uncomfortable. You had intended to come and keep him company, perhaps tell him about what you learned in class today, yet all his body language pointed to one option: he wanted to be ALONE.

“Alright, alright, loud and clear,” you weren’t offended by his brusque words, well, maybe a little bit, “Here. Don’t know if you ate anything yet, but there’s some chicken soup in this. Generosity from the kitchen staff after they booted me out for sneaking in.”

You at least expected a chuckle, a quip of “I am surprised they did not turn YOU into soup,” but nothing came. Placing the thermos on his bedside table, you headed for the door and, with one last glance back at him, you offered a soft smile.

“Get better soon.”

The illegal Love Potion was finished and a majority of the class was excited, rightfully so. Everyone was eager to know who their loved one was, their crush, and possibly even sneak a portion out to use on the object of their desires. But not him. He was here for the grade. Lotor adored the dark arts and, although not officially part of the curriculum in his other class, this was just another step into understanding why Love was the strongest curse of all.

And yet, you were shifting nervously in your seat. Hands neatly folded on the desk, knee shaking up and down insistently, and your eyes couldn’t even focus staring at ONE thing. He didn’t understand. The two of you use the same ingredients, so you must be getting the same perfect grade as him. Or perhaps...you, like the others, were curious about what the potion would reveal to you if you took a small whiff.

“Did you...y’know,” you asked vaguely, motioning to his simmering potion.

“No. Did you?”

“No.”

A moment of silence. You knew you had certain feelings for him, but pinpointing them to love or anything stronger than love was what really kept you uncertain. Friends? Best friends? Maybe...something more? Should you ask him? Part of you wanted to, yet another side of you was actually happy with where you two were at now. You trust him. You trusted him quite a bit.

“Wanna do it together?” you asked, knowing there was a few minutes to spare before class started.

Lotor’s silence made you hesitate even more. Not because it was a yes or no answer, but because he was thinking about what he was going to experience. It was no matter of the heart that he already heavily desired you since that mirror showed him what the two of you could be. His thoughts were invaded with you before, yet he couldn’t differentiate between him being a horny adolescent or an actual fool in love.

The Prince sent you a side glance, “Yes. Let us try.”

Both of you gently swept the smoke rising from the cauldron to your noses, preparing yourselves for the answers to the unknown.

Peppermint cocoa. Old library books. Fresh laden snow. Chicken pot pie. A...rose?

You brought a hand up to cover the lower half of your face, immediately knowing where all these scents were coming from. Or rather, who. You...love him? No. That couldn’t be. You didn’t even realize it! How could some liquidy goop know you better than you? But...maybe on some degree, it was true. You love him enough to be such close, vulnerable friends with each other. Enough that you wished his sickness would erase completely from his body that one night. Enough that you willingly leap into his welcoming arms, despite the fear clouding your mind.

The realization...well, it brought you two things. One, a peace of mind now that your question was answered. And two, you found that the damn beating organ in your chest wanted to ask him about these conflicting thoughts. You swallowed a thick gulp lodged in your throat, sparing a meek look at your partner sitting idly besides you. Did he smell...something foul?

Lotor’s face was twisted in utter disgust.

Yes, he knew what his nose would pick up. Chicken noodle soup, white carnations, misty lake water, oak trees, and finely-ground powdered moon stone. With every scent, a new memory flashed in his mind, from that dangerous adventure at the forest lake to the soup he gratefully consumed shortly after you closed his bedroom door. The memories...it made his heart fond, his heart yearn to hold you again, but the smell. All of it mixed together?

It made him want to puke on the spot.

Lotor covered his nose with his hand to block anymore of that potion from reaching his brain. He knew you were staring at him, waiting for an answer, anything, and he knew you were not blind. The growing friendship, the late night cuddling, the hugs, the sentimental time spent together. You must’ve suspected something between you two, some fine line between the moments of vulnerability you shared with each other.

“Lotor, did you - “

Yet, he turned away from you, avoiding looking at you in the eyes, just as the professor waltzed into the classroom. Maybe the smell was too strong for him? Yes, yes, that was a logical conclusion. The potency, when taken too much, can cause nausea. Right? You swear you read that somewhere in the book. It must be the cause of his sudden reaction.

Because if it wasn’t that, then everything else pointed to the other option, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to accept that.  

Lotor didn’t speak to you for the next few days. Sometimes, you thought you saw a glance of him turn a corner. Sometimes, he was hastily shoveling his food in his mouth to leave abruptly. Sometimes, he would spare you a quick, stoic glance before turning his attention to his books. Either way, there was no right time to talk, no perfect moment with his odd evasiveness lodging between you two.

Then again, you tried to see this as openly as possibly. Perhaps he was just busy. Tests and finals were coming up and you, too, were preoccupied with other studies.

“Hey, Lotor, wait up,” you called out to him this time, jogging to catch up before he entered his class.

“Hm? Yes, dear? What is it?”

“Did you wanna head to Madam Puddifoot’s this weekend? After tests and everything. Figure we could use a break, eat some cake, the good stuff!”

Lotor didn’t meet your gaze nor your enthusiasm. Instead, he glanced off to stare at the floor, internally debating something bouncing around that cluttered skull of his. He was a man of few words, even fewer when concerning personal emotions, yet lately he couldn’t even organize his thoughts in a coherent order. There was something bugging him, something deep in his skin, and as your friend, part of him realized it would wedge an awkwardness between you two.

“Ah...no, I apologize,” eyes still glued to the floor, Lotor missed the downtrodden dip of your smile, “Perhaps another time, hm? When things have quieted down and students have gone home for break.”

Yes. Yes, a good diversion, one he didn’t quite think all the way through.

“Oh, yeah! Sure, good idea. Less people would be overcrowding the shop. Just...y’know, the journal. You know where I am at.”

Were you always this...this easy to push around? Odd. He never really noticed it before.

A nod of his head, he turned and left you standing there alone. Not even a goodbye? He really must be stressed.

Lotor was feeling...angry. Frustrated, and not in a way he could relieve himself through some private time alone. Yes, in the confines of his dutiful patrol across the Slytherin wing, he still thought of you, of forcefully kissing you against the wall. Biting your delicate neck with little control until he had his fill of moans and screams. Even pinning your wrists at your lower back as he fucked you from behind made his groin stir in want.

All these images distracted him, but there was something...missing. He didn’t feel love. It was just lust. Just a need to climax, to dump his load into you over and over again. Knowing these thoughts only got worse over time left a bad taste in his mouth. He never wanted to use you for anything, least of all sex. His body wanted you, but his heart...his heart was unsure.

What changed? When did the line between lust and love divert? And why, when he thought of you, did he feel...nothing anymore? 

He would even go as far as to say there was a smidgen of contempt. That’s what was making him irritated. His heart was slowly beginning to dislike you, dislike your stubbornness, your pushiness, even your clumsy nature was grating on his nerves. All those times of you being a fool were true, through and through. You were oblivious to dangers. Not at all patient. Too dim-witted to see your true self, so you relied on others - relied on him - to bring it out of you.

It was annoying, yes. He was not someone to seek attention from. Yet, he couldn’t just say this to you. You’d get upset, cry about it, no doubt. Lotor just didn’t feel the want to deal with your wayward self again. He felt as if he was spending TOO much of his time catering to you and it no longer left a good, fluttery feeling in his chest. In fact, it left him feeling emotionally drained.

What he thought was friendship, or something more, was actually neither of those.

Perhaps that was why he still hasn’t taken that journal out from the drawer.

The two of you were drifting apart.

You finally managed to have at least a few minutes with him. Albeit, yes, it was by pure chance that your curious exploring led you to the same secretive balcony deep within the castle grounds. But, now that you were here, it felt a little awkward to be staring at his broad back. How do you start this? It hurt to realize you were hesitating talking to your best friend.

You were concerned for him, deeply concerned, but how do you say this without saying it?

“Did you follow me?”

The timber of his voice was a little deeper than you remembered. Taking careful steps, you walked up besides him and leaned on the stone railing with your hands hanging off the edge. Stiff, you were both stiff, or maybe it was the trick of the chilly night. The air didn’t feel as warm as it did before.

“No way, how do I know you didn’t follow me, huh?” the accusatory tone didn’t fall on deaf ears, but Lotor didn’t return the usual amusement.

“You should not be out this late. It is past curfew hours.”

It was hard to keep your mood from turning sour at his terse answers, but you had to remind yourself that this was Lotor. Your best friend. You missed him, even this moody side of him. Perhaps another joke would help? Maybe some light hearted teasing?

“Oh, c’mon, classes are over. What’s wrong with a little midnight adventure? Last one too exciting for you?”

Nothing. Not even a blink.

“I know what you are trying to do,” Lotor’s shoulders slumped and finally, he looked at you straight in the eyes, “I suggest you stop while you are ahead.”

The words spilled out of your mouth faster than you could stop them, “Lotor, I’m just trying to help.”

“Did I ask for it?”

“No, but - damn it, you helped me. Why can’t I do the same for you?”

Annoyance. That was all you could see flit across his face and it stung deep within your chest. You tried to put on your best pleading expression, something to show that you really were worried about him, about his distant self, about his walls being rebuilt brick by brick. This wasn’t like him, not at all.

“People usually help out of the goodness of their heart, not as some sort of debt to repay. ”

“That’s not what I meant. I just - you’re acting different.”

Again, wrong words to say. You knew it, you felt the sudden shift in the air. Saw the way his jaw clenched in restrained control and how his eyes hooded low in a paralyzing glare. Pushing, you were pushing too much, and Lotor was getting very uncomfortable. And, as usual, with his discomfort came the need to...protect himself. Retaliate with words to disarm you completely.

“Oh? And you are unhappy with this ‘different’ side of me? Is that why you seek to help change me back?”

“No! Of course not, Lotor. When I wasn’t myself, you showed me - look, I don’t know what’s going on with you - “

“No. You do not. Perhaps you should have been more observant,” he sneered at you, hitting hard at the fact you were an airhead most of the times.

You brushed off his comment, but it left a lingering ache in your heart, “Or you could just - WE could just talk. Just one night, get whatever it is off your chest and I’ll do the same.”

“No.”

You anticipated the answer before even offering the suggestion, especially knowing deep down that neither of you would be comfortable with speaking so openly about emotions. Foolish, you weren’t thinking ahead, thinking about what you were saying before letting it slip from your tongue. Talking to him like this was insufferably frustrating. It was wearing down your patience, HIS patience, but your stubborn persistence is what would tip the breaking point. You were never aware of this.

“Then what do you want to do, Lotor?”

“Is it not obvious?”

Again, his voice was being degrading and part of you wanted to scoff at him.

“I came here by myself for a reason.”

You could at least piece two and two together, even if the sharp edges left biting wounds on your skin.

“...You want to be alone,” you finished for him, sad you had to say those words out loud for both of you to hear.

Lotor needed time to sort out...whatever this was. And, judging by the way he averted every single one of your questions, this had nothing to do with you. Nothing you COULD do, except give him the space he needed unless you want to find yourself facing the brunt of his cold shoulder and burning words again.

You hated this feeling, this feeling of being rejected. Shunned.

“Fine. I’ll give you your space.”

“Thank you.”

Lotor sure didn’t sound truly thankful, but at this point, you didn’t much care. If isolation was his way to handle things, then you would let him do it. Even if it cost you the friendship and whatever feelings evolved between you two. Something that neither of you got the chance to further explore. That revelation made the pit in your stomach sink in sadness.

The hot, angry tears of frustration wouldn’t stop falling down your cheeks as you turned and marched away from him.

[onpointedfeetandbrokendreams]

I completely fell in love with this OC

Laith McKogane, created by @aku-usagi. You should check the drawings because they are amazing! Post

I adore this idea of Keith and Lance meeting a child of theirs from another reality because I am weak for paradoxes/alternate realities/time travels AUs but I’m awful at drawing, so I decided to give it my tribute with this scene about the paladins trying to figure out what’s so familiar to them about this mysterious kid from an alternate reality.

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“Is ‘Laith’ even a name?? It looks more like...” He trails off before bringing his hands to the sides of his head and snapping: ”OH MY GOD! It’s a ship name!! That’s insane.”

Keith looks at him. He is a little puzzled but is trying to remain unimpressed. He asks with a tired voice:

“What the hell is a ship name, Lance?”

“How can you not know this?? Where did you live before coming up here, Keith?”

He is gesturing wildly, a look of pure disbelief on his face.

“Um… On Hearth? In that shack in the desert? You’ve seen it, remember?” Answers Keith.

“DUH?? That’s not the point. The point is that you can’t possibly NOT know what a ship is, you must have heard about it!”

“Of course I know what a ship is, I just don’t understand what it has to do with this kid’s name.”

Lance shakes his head before taking a deep breath.

“Shush now. The great Lance is going to instruct you.”

Keith raises a brow at him, his lips pursed into a thin line. Lance ignores him. “You know at least what a fandom is?”

The red paladin just nods, knowing full well that if he opened his mouth to speak, he would say something that would result in him and Lance yelling at each other. He doesn’t have much trust that Lance can actually say something useful at this moment but he is willing to try. Lance seems pleased and continues:

“Good, so when you enter a fandom, you will probably like some characters more than others. Sometimes, you might like two of the characters together, like in a couple. In that case, you say that you ‘ship’ them.”

“Yeah? Lance, I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here and listen to what you have to say but I am really failing to see the point of this conversation.”

“Let me finish!! When that happens, usually people create a name for the couple, combining the names of the characters, like… I don’t know... Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are Drarry.”

He pauses, then he gives him a pointed look.

“See?”

“O-kay?” answers Keith, not seeing at all.

Lance weirdly moves his hands back and forth between the two of them and he seems… embarrassed? Keith isn’t sure.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, motioning to Lance’s hands.

“Ugh. I feel sick even thinking about it, I don’t think I’m going to be able to say it out loud. Guys? Hunk? Pidge? Some help with the newbie here, please?”

“I’m not a newbie.”

“Yes, whatever,” Lance comments sarcastically as Hunk and Pidge approach.

“What’s going on?” Asks Hunk.

Lance blushes as he spoke, scratching the back of his neck, his voice a lot less confident than before.

“Can you please explain to Keith why the name of our mysterious ‘Laith’ sounds like a ship name?”

Pidge bursts out laughing, understanding the reference while Hunk, being the amazing friend he is, shuts his mouth to hold back his own chuckle and just smiles, looking sympathetically at Lance.

“Okay, let’s see… How can I put this into words… Hm… Try to think about the name, La-ith?”

“You just repeated it.” Keith deadpans.

“Yes, but… There are two syllables, La… and ith...” Hunk tries to say it slowly, giving Keith time for the meaning to sink in.

Pidge is out of breath and between cackles manages to say:

“And he has a PURPLE lion!! This is amazing!”

The moment Keith realizes what they are trying to say is evident from the color of his face. Crimson spreads towards his normally pale skin, from his neck up to his forehead. Lance swears he can even see steam coming out of his ears but his own embarrassment is now doubled so he is in no condition to tease him about it. When he manages to breathe Keith just shrieks:

“WHAT??”

[joleanart]

Hi, do you have more drawings/details/hc about Ella? Cause I just read the little bit you posted on her and I LOVE HER! I WANT HER TO BE MY MOM FRIEND! (I can also see her herding her team (and Lance and Hunk and Pidge) around like a mother hen would, she just strikes me as sorta a Molly Weasley-esque person)

hello!! and omg i get all aaaa every time someone asks about my ocs!!

so, i don’t have many drawings of her - yet - but i do have headcanons! for example:

i like to think that she was the one to give keith his hover bike. actually it was a gift from ella and shiro. they gave it to him on his bday (again, of course this is not what happened, but i never seen an explanation for his hover bike so)

ella would spend hours in matt’s room with him, studying/talking/having coffee, even when it was sunny outside and the boys were out there enjoying it (shiro and keith liked to run when they had some free-time. ella did too, but she wouldn’t leave matt alone in his room while the 3 of them were enjoying the sun. matt didn’t like sports back then, tho he’s never said it out loud. anyways, ella knew. she kinda always did

ella met shiro first. she’s only 2 years younger than him, so they had the same taste on almost everything and became friends very quickly. he was the first person she talked about her sexuality. she didn’t even knew much about being ace/aro, and shiro helped her out on that. they went through it on internet, talked to ace people, etc. that’s when they really bonded and she’s forever grateful

as i said before (in that little bit of ella post) she knows pidge. matt invited her and shiro for dinner when he found out they were his team members. commander holt was kinda famous to shiro and ella and they were so honored to be there. pidge asked ella if there was many female students/commanders at the garrison and she said “yes, fortunately. but is never enough, you know? maybe you should join us there, someday”. pidge was fascinated

ella always dreamed of a big family full of kids. when she was younger, she wanted siblings (she’s a only child), and when she grew up, that desire changed to: she wants kids. not a husband, not a wife, no romantic stuff. she wants the kids

she’s an excelent fighter. she can even beat shiro sometimes. boxing is her favorite

ella is a dog person. she has a very big girl called luna, a beautiful german shepherd. luna is very sweet and completely in love with shiro. whenever he came to her house, luna would bark and jump around him, lick his hands and lay down on his lap. ella is totally jealous cause her dog loves shiro more and complains about it to e v e r y o n e. she used to call him dog-stealer

once, ella asked keith about his parents, but he didn’t replied. she apologized for making him so uncomfortable and promised she would never ask again and he could talk about it if and when he was ready. keith never really talked about his dad with anyone, like, not so open, at least. whenever he was sad because of this and ella asked what was worng, he’d say like “..you know..” and she really did.

ella loves to take pictures of everything, but mostly of her boys. an entire wall of her room is covered in cute pics. she used to love that, but now is just a reminder that all of them are gone and she could do was watch

ella is the queen of pet names. sweetie, sweetheart, darling, dear, babe. matt even got a "little candy" once. but keith is the only one she calls “kid” and “child”. they think it’s hilarious cause she sounds like a mom when she does that and she’s only 5 years older than him, but it’s kinda normal for her ? sometimes she really does it just to mess with keith, but mostly is a natural thing

once a bully hid matt’s glasses under his desk during class and everyone laugh, which was pretty messed up cause he couldn’t read stuff without them and he didn’t say anything to the teacher, cause he was afraid to speak up. but when ella found out about this, she got him locked in his own bathroom, with the lights off (cause she messed them up so they wouldn’t turn on) and kept him there for 1 hour cause that’s how long he kept matt’s glasses. when he got out, nearly crying cause he hated the dark, he found a note that said “it’s not very good not being able to see, is it?” after that, he never bullied matt or anyone else

they have a star named after each one of them. not officially, they just did it for fun. at night, sometimes, they would look at the sky and go like “where’s matt?” and “look how shiny is keith tonight” and “oh no we lost shiro again” and the classic “oh, there’s shiny ella” “THATS THE MOON”

it’s so hard to look at the stars now

someone help this poor girl, she misses her boys so much :(

[eastofthemoon]

Towards The Sun- Chapter 7

Title: Towards the Sun: Chapter 7

Series: Voltron Legendary Defender

Rating: PG

Characters: Keith, Thace, Shiro, Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, Coran and OCs

Summary:  After the rebels escape, Thace is now staying at the Castle of Lions and Keith has questions for him that can no longer be put on hold. However, once he gets his answers, Keith is afraid how everyone else will take the news.

Archive of Our Own

Once Lance had proudly hung the drawing in Blue, the group went off to join the others in the meeting room. Without meaning to, Keith found himself sitting between Thace and Shiro at the table. He felt a little awkward since he wasn’t quite certain what Shiro thought of Thace at this point, but choose not to dwell on it.

Allura folded her hands on the table as she turned her attention to Ford and Oberon. “So, what exactly are these conditions?”

Ford ran a hand through his beard as he cleared his throat. “So, like I explained the leaders of our rebel cells have decided to form an alliance with you.”

“And Leah is eager to do so,” Oberon explained as leaned over the table. “However, the other cells are a bit nervous exposing themselves to the empire. Therefore, as a bit of a safety measure,” he looked to where Thace sat, “they want you to stay with the paladins.”

The group stared stunned and even Thace looked shocked by the news.

“Ookay, that’s surprising,” Lance said softly.

Keith blinked as he tried not to stare openly at Thace.

“Why?” Shiro asked as he narrowed his eyes. “How is it a safety measure?”

“They figured Thace can act as a sort of diplomat between our two groups,” Oberon explained and then coughed, “and the other is..well-”

“It’s too dangerous for me to go back,” Thace simply stated. “That’s the bigger reason isn’t?”

Oberon and Ford shared an uneasy expression. “Yyyeeaah,” Oberan said as he gave a shaky smile. “Sorry, Thace, but at this point you’re as wanted as the paladins and the princess here are.”

“Leah argued your case as best as she could,” Ford explained, “but the other rebels cells just thought it was too much of a risk for you to fully come back to the resistance.”

“But Thace risked his life,” Keith argued with a growl. “Zarkon would have gotten Voltron! We should have-”

Thace placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Clam down,” he said. “I hardly take it as an insult. It is a valid concern.”

Keith blew air out of his cheeks. “That still doesn’t make it right.”

An amused grin appeared over Oberon’s lips. “Heh, you are his kid alright.”

Keith instantly blushed and Thace tossed a glare. “Oberon..”

“What? It’s not an insult,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, think of all the father-son bonding you two can have now.”

Keith froze and his tongue felt numb. Thace wasn’t going anywhere, at least he didn’t have to now. He chewed his bottom lip. I..I don’t know if that makes me happy or not.

Thace’s eyes softened as he cleared his throat. “I believe...this isn’t a decision that should be rushed into.”

Keith stiffened and felt like he had been punched in the gut. What was that suppose to mean? Did Thace not want to stay here with him? His hands tightened into fists.

“I agree,” Shiro jumped in as he placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “With all due respect, having Thace live here permanently is a big chance for us to adjust too, especially given the circumstances.”

Keith noticed Shiro shifted slightly closer to him.

Allura frowned, but gave a nod as she looked to Oberon and Ford. “I agree with Shiro, while we do want to form a proper alliance, we will need some time to ponder this ‘condition’.”

“Don’t blame ya, Princess,” Ford simply stated. “Hope you don’t mind if Oberon and I stay here until you reach a decision.” He rotated his shoulders. “These old bones would prefer the fewer flight trips if possible.”

“Of course,” Allura said as she stood. “I’ll have Coran take you to the guest quarters for the time being until we have reached a decision on the matter.”

“Sounds lovely, Princess” Oberon said with a chuckle as he stood. “Thace, why don’t you join us? I do have a few things to discuss with you.”

Thace raised an eyebrow as he rose. “Alright,” he said and looked to Keith. “We can...speak later if you wish.”

“Uh, sure,” Keith said as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Thace patted his shoulder before proceeding to follow Ford, Oberon and Coran out of the meeting room.

Hunk drummed his fingers on the table until they were gone and looked to the group. “So...anyone else here thinks it’s a bit odd Thace didn’t just agree to stay here?”

“It is a tricky matter,” Allura said gently. “We certainly never expected for Thace to stay here permanently, and there are certain things to..consider if that is the case.”

Keith twitched a bit as he narrowed his eyes. “If you’re referring to ‘me’ being one of those things, Princess, you shouldn’t,” he said quietly. “The alliance with the rebels is more important.”

“I beg to differ,” Shiro said as crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re a part of this team, Keith. How you feel about Thace living here is important.”

Keith lowered his gaze. “Possibly...but Thace didn’t exactly seemed thrilled at the idea to stay here anyway.” He looked to the Shiro. “You saw, he basically said he didn’t want to be here.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “No, he didn’t and you’re over thinking it.” He pointed at Keith. “I”m betting the guy said that so that YOU wouldn’t be thrown into something you didn’t want to happen.”

Pidge nodded. “Yeah, and besides it is a lot for us to think about.”

“Yeah...that’s true I guess,” Keith said, but a part of him would feel better if Thace had just said so if that was the case.

Shiro rose from his seat and look to the others. “I think this is an excellent time to run some training exercises. Just because we have more guests aboard doesn’t mean we can treat it like a vacation.”

“Yes, Sir,” the paladins said in perfect unison.

Shiro nodded. “Go get suit up and meet me in the training deck.”

“I’ll join you,” Allura said as she stood. “I do want to see if we’re able to go up a level on the gladiator.”

“Ug, please, no,” Lance said as he rubbed his back. “My muscles are still sore from the last advancement we did.”

Keith went to follow, but was stopped as Shiro touched his shoulder. “Hey, listen,” he said in a whisper. “I am here if you need to talk later. Okay?”

Keith gave a small smile and nodded. “Thanks, I know,” he said as he went to leave. “Although, honestly, some mindless training is the best thing I need right now.”

Shiro narrowed his eyes, but smiled as he ruffled his hair. “I’ll see you on the training deck then, Buddy.”

“Yeah,” Keith muttered as he fixed his hair. Focusing on training rather than worrying what Thace is thinking? Sounds good to me.

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Oberon leaned in the chair as he held up his drink. “Got to admit it, Thace,” he said with a cheeky grin. “You got a real nice set up here.”

Thace sighed as he sat across from him. “It is hardly a ‘setup’,” he muttered. “I wonder if Ford is alright in his room.”

“He’s fine,” Oberon said as he set down his drink. “He just needs a rest, so stop avoiding the subject.”

Thace frowned as he gave a hard stare. “What subject?”

Oberon scoffed. “Don’t pretend. I’m talking about your kid?” He leaned forward. “I thought you would jump at the chance to be able to stay with him. What was that all ‘we can’t rush into’ stuff?”

“I have to consider his feelings on the issue,” Thace growled. “Not everyone is as happy go lucky as you. I’m not certain Keith would be comfortable having me here.”

Oberon raised an eyebrow. “Has he told you that?”

Thace frowned. “Well, no, truth be told he’s still trying to grasp the concept I’m his father-”

“And how is he going to get to know ‘his father’ better if you go running off somewhere to a remote planet?” Oberon asked as he sipped his drink.

Thace sighed as he rubbed his eyes. Despite knowing Oberon since they were cadets together, he could never understand how he could view things in such a simple matter. Course, just when Thace thought he had him figured out, Oberon always awed him with almost sage like advice.

He suppose it was for that reason they were friends. “Oberon, I left him and his mother when he was an infant. I can’t assume I can be allowed back into his life.”

Oberon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t suppose you know what his mother thinks of all of this?”

Thace winced and stared at the floor. “She died when Keith was a child...and I didn’t even know.”

Oberon was silent. His eyes glowed with sympathy as he reached over to touch Thace’s arm. “I’m sorry, Thace. I didn’t know her, but I know how much you loved her.”

Thace gave his hands a squeeze as he nodded. “Thank you, and it is only another reason why I would not blame Keith for not wishing to be involved with me.”

Oberon frowned. “Oh? How so?”

“Keith was left all alone when Amy died, and had to be cared for by strangers until he had the luck of Shiro’s family, the black paladin, taking him in.” His hands gripped into fists. “How can I call myself his father when I wasn’t there when he clearly needed one?”

Oberon leaned back in his chair as he grasped his chin. “If you ask me, it’s the opposite. It’s even more important you do so now.”

Thace blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Keith has most likely questioned about who his father was his whole life, and now that boy is tasked with helping to free the universe,” he said as he picked up his drink. “Doesn’t that sound like a kid who could use some fatherly guidance?”

Thace paused at that. Oberon had a point, but still...

“Okay, look, I get where you’re coming from,” Oberon said, sincerely. “You are trying to be considerate of the kid, but having to be a father myself, I do believe you two owe it to each other. You got a second chance here, Thace, when you honestly believe you would never get to see your son again. You shouldn’t pass this up.”

Thace huffed. “You make it sound so simple.”

“No reason it can’t be,” Oberon said with a shrug. “And if that doesn’t convince you, do it for Amy.”

Thace froze and he looked up. “For Amy?”

Oberon nodded. “From what you told me about her, what do you think Amy would ask you to do?”

Thace was silent as he thought it over. “She...would want me to connect with Keith, or at least try.”

“Then, if you loved her the way I do Leah, do that for her,” Oberon said. “What do you have to lose?”

Thace was silent as he felt he was once again struck by the weird sage like advice of Oberon.

“And on a less serious note,” Oberon said as he leaned forward. “Think I could convince that Lance kid to let me have a ride on the Blue Lion? Give me something to brag about to the others you know?”

Thace sighed as he rubbed his eyes, once again question how he became friends with this person.

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The training had been exactly what Keith needed, and he still felt that way despite the exhaustion at the end of it.

“Good job, team” Shiro said as he flexed his arm. “We didn’t quite break a new record, but we’re getting there.”

“Are you sure there isn’t a record for amount of sweat?” Pidge asked as she leaned against Hunk and wiped her forehead. “Because if there was, I would win it.”

Shiro chuckled. “Sorry, I don’t think-”

An ear piercing grinding echoed throughout the room. Everyone jumped in alarm, but relaxed as Shiro clutched his arm and made it stop. He cursed as he gripped it tightly with his human hand. “Damn, it’s doing it again.”

Hunk sighed as he and Pidge moved closer. “Okay, we have GOT to solve this problem because this is getting worse.”

Pidge frowned as she looked it over. “Shiro, I hate to say it, but we may have to take this thing apart somehow to find the problem.”

Keith’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is that really necessary?”

“We’ve been going over this thing with a fine tooth comb,” Hunk said as he removed his helmet. “But it’s hard to see the problem without going deeper.”

“I get that,” Lance said as he scratched his head, “but still seems kind of drastic.”

Shiro sighed. “I am reluctant taking it apart, but at the rate this is going I’m afraid it’s going to get worse or maybe even stop working if we don’t fix it soon.”

And that’s not good, Keith thought, especially if it does it in the middle of a fight.

Hunk clasped his hands together in thought. “Let’s look it over one more time before we have to go that route,” he said as he crossed his arms. “As smart as Pidge and I are we can’t promise we can safely put it back together without damaging it more or Shiro for that matter.”

“I would prefer that,” Shiro said as he winced. “Let’s go to the lab now and see if you two can fix it.”

“Anything Keith and I could do to help?” Lance asked.

“Stay out of trouble,” Shiro said with a crooked smile as he left the room with Pidge and Hunk in tow. “I’ll check in with you two later, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Keith said softly as he watched them go and sighed.

So, now what do I do? I’m too tired from any more training, but don’t feel like heading back to my room yet.

A hand on his shoulder broke Keith’s train of thought and turned to see Lance giving him a grin.

“Hey, how about we go grab something to drink?” he said and took a sniff. “Although, on second thought, after we shower. You reek of sweat.”

Keith smirked and gave a small nod. “Yeah, I would be for that,” he said as they headed out of the room.

It didn’t take long for Lance and Keith to remove their armor, shower and be back in their everyday clothes. The two of them then ventured into the kitchen where Lance poured each of them a drink and sat at the table next to Keith.

“Thanks,” Keith said as he took a sip.

Lance practically drained his glass as he leaned back in the chair. “Ah, that hits the spot,” he said and then raised his gaze at Keith. “Sssooo...looks like Thace might be living with us?”

Keith cringed as he leaned against his hand. He should have known that was why Lance suggested to get a drink together. “Yeah..weird, huh?”

Lance scoffed. “Honestly, not really? We live in a flying castle with two aliens..well three if we include you..although seven if we also count the mice-”

“Lance,” Keith said dryly.

“Right, right, getting off track,” Lance said as he leaned over the table. “But, hey, having Thace here would be good for you, don’t you think?”

Keith fingered the brim of his glass. “I’m not sure since I don’t really know him.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “He took care of you for like close to a month when you’re hurt, and you had all the time at the rebel base together. He’s not that much of a stranger to you, is he?”

“That’s different,” Keith argued. “Then he was this Galran soldier I was trying to figure out why he was helping me, and at the base…”

“He was the guy that may or may not be related to you,” Lance said as he crossed his arms.

“Exactly,” Keith said as he ran a hand through his hair. “Now that I know he’s my dad..it kind of feels like he’s a whole new person.”

“Okay, I get that,” Lance said, “but you realize you can only use that as an excuse for so long right? Best way to get over that problem is just to talk to the guy.”

Keith’s eyes hardened.

“Am I wrong?” Lance replied.

“No…,” Keith said with a pout, “but I have no sweet clue how I could go about it.”

And what’s the point of doing it if Thace will just want to leave in the end? Keith thought bitterly.

Lance grasped his chin in thought. “Well...could always grab a ball and play a game of catch?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Lance shrugged and looked ready to say more when the door opened. The teens glanced up as Thace and Oberon entered the room and paused.

“Oh, hey,” Oberon said as he waved. “I thought you were in training.”

“We just finished, and the others are assisting Shiro with some maintenance,” Keith said as he gripped his drink. “What are you two doing?”

“Making Thace give me a tour,” Oberon said rather cheerfully. “Although, it’s proving to be rather pointless since it seems he knows next to nothing about this place.”

Thace twitched slightly as he crossed his arms. “As I’ve said, I haven’t been here long, and I was hardly going to be exploring a home that wasn’t mine.”

Keith narrowed his eyes slightly. “Well..,” he said slowly, “you’re going to have to know it if you end up living here, right?”

Thace went quiet as he locked eyes with Keith. “That...is a fair point,” he said as he crossed his arms.

Keith blinked puzzled. He had been expecting Thace to deny he was living here, but that made it sound like he was considering it?

Why can’t the guy just make up his mind about it?! Keith thought.

Lance frowned and then snapped his fingers as he rose from his seat. “Then, I guess it’s up to Keith and I to play tour guys for you two.”

Keith lost his train of thought as he stared dumbfounded at Lance, and Thace looked equally shocked. “What?” Keith and Thace asked in unison.

“Ah, excellent idea!” Oberon said as nodded to Lance. “I realize we can’t go everywhere in the castle, but I heard there was an observatory deck we could go to.”

“Oh, sure we could take you two there,” Lance said as he grabbed Keith’s arm. “Right, Keith?”

“Uh..yeah,” Keith said as he glanced to Thace. “You alright with that?”

“I have no objections,” Thace said.

“Good, then let’s go,” Lance declared as he dragged Keith out of the room. “Come on, this will be great.”

Keith gave a sigh as he saw the two Galrans were trailing after them. How do I get dragged into these things?

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Keith was certain if it had just been him and Thace they would have walked in silence, but that wasn’t the case with Lance around. Keith always knew the guy was a chatterbox, and it was becoming crystal clear that Oberon was the same.

“So, how are Tral and Xenia liking their new home?” Lance asked with a concerned frown. “They okay?”

“They’re fine,” Oberon reassured him. “Took some adjustment, but the whole place is covered in snow. They’re quite delighted by the stuff!”

“Oh, man, really?!” Lance said as his eyes lit up. “Next time I see them, I’m teaching them to build a snowman!”

Oberon laughed. “I have no idea what that is, but fill your boots.”

“On that note, I also want to get Xenia crayons. She has artistic talents that should be encouraged-”

“I hate to interrupt,” Keith said coolly as he pointed ahead, “but we’re here.”

Lance blinked as he glanced to the door and scratched his head. “Huh, didn’t realize we got here that fast.”

Thace stepped up. “Well, then shall we proceed?”

Oberon gave a nod, but just as his feet brushed the doorway he paused. “Oh quiznack!” he exclaimed and snapped his fingers. “I just remembered I should contact Leah.”

Thace’s eyes widened. “Wait..you mean you haven’t yet?”

“We went directly into the meeting and it completely slipped my mind until now,” Oberon said with a shrug. “It does happens.”

“Says the person that prides himself on being an expert spy,” Thace said with a huff.

Keith raised his eyes in disbelief. “Yeah..I have to agree with Thace here on that one.”

“Hey, I have yet to get caught,” Oberon argued and then looked over to the boys, and Keith noticed most particularly in Lance’s direction. “Lance, don’t suppose you can show me where I could go to contact her?”

Lance frowned, but then his eyes widened slightly as a sly grin spread across his face.

“Sure, sure, I’ll take ya,” Lance said as he began to lead the way. “Keith, go take Thace without us and we’ll meet you there.”

Keith’s jaw fell slightly. “What? But-”

“Relax, you’ll be fine,” Lance reassured him as he shoved both Keith and Thace to move forward through the door.

“Right, besides I won’t be more than a few ticks,” Oberon insisted as he began to head in the opposite direction. “I trust you two can entertain each other until we get back?”

Thace narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but then his eyes landed on Keith and his shoulders suddenly relaxed like he remembered something.

“We..can do that,” he said slowly.

“Great,” Lance said as he clapped his hands and waved at them. “Be back in a bit.”

Keith blinked stunned as he gradually look to Thace. “Why do I sense we were just tricked?”

“I’ve learned not to ponder too hard on it,” Thace said as he entered. “No harm in playing along for a moment.”

Keith didn’t feel as positive, but considering he had nothing better to do, he found himself following his father up the steps.

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Lance gave Oberan a smirk once they were out of Keith and Thace’s sight. “I saw what you did there.”

“Oh?” Oberon said innocently. “And what did I do?”

Lanced pointed behind him. “Forcing Thace and Keith to spend a little one on one with each other.”

Oberon laughed. “You catch on quick, Kid,” he said in an impressed tone. “Hope you don’t mind, but figured it be good for both of them given the circumstances.”

Lance dropped his grin into a more serious frown as he nodded. “No, honestly, I was planning on doing something similar if Keith didn’t do something soon.” He shoved his hands into the back of his pants. “He can be so stupidly stubborn sometimes.”

“I know the feeling, trust me,” Oberon commented as he crossed his arms. “Had the same problem when Thace when we were younger.”

“Yeah?” Lance said curiously and then paused. “Uh, on that note, do you really need to contact Leah?”

“Yes, that part wasn’t a lie,” Oberon said as they paused. “However, I figured after that maybe you could show me a different part of the castle and see how long it takes Thace and Keith to realize we tricked them.”

“Sure, I could do that,” Lance said as he thought. “Could show you the recreation room where we keep a bunch of games.”

Oberon’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Ooh, what kind exactly?”

“Nothing much,” Lance said with a shrug. “We made up a couple of board games, but we made some replicas of the kinds we have on Earth.”

“Thace had told me about Earth games,” Oberon stated as he grinned like a little kid. “Let’s try one of them out after my call.”

“Ah, okay,” Lance replied. He was slightly surprised by the eagerness, but hey might as well roll with it. “Let’s go play while Mister Mullet goes talk with Mister Serious.”

Oberon laughed as he slightly slapped Lance’s back. “I like you, Kid! We’ll get along just fine!”

Lance grinned back as they continue to venture down the hall. He just hope things were going well on Keith’s end.

[tumultuoustuna]

Sequel To Story Time

Rules: tag several blogs you’d like to know better.

Tagged by @orcaspanielmermaids

Warning: some of these are major info dumps ^^’

Nickname: I prefer Tuna or Aspen, just because it’s pretty (if you can come up with something better, hit me)

Zodiac: Leo or Virgo, wither you’re looking at the original twelve or the new on with the thirteen signs; but I associate more with Virgo

Height: 5′6″???

Last thing Googled: sixteen personalities quiz (’cause I’m absolute trash with my OCs)

Fav musical artist: I really don’t have a favorite as much as I fade in and out of new music; but I love Lindsey Stirling, dj-Jo, electronic or dubstep, etc. Anything really except most mainstream music

Song stuck in my head: Meh, depends on the day and what I listened to the night before. Right now, Hold My Heart by Lindsey Stirling 

Last movie watched: Haven’t really watched any that I can remember as of late, but I watch enough YouTube to kill my grades, soooo ^-^’

What am I wearing right now: clothes, geniuses, gees. No but seriously, black tank top with a blue pattern, jeggings (I think), and some beat up Converse

What do I post: Anything I find positive, pretty, or Voltron; occasionally you’ll see my art pop up on the dash, but not as of late 

Why did I choose your URL: My Myers-Briggs personality type is INFP-T, and I for some reason was nicknamed Tuna in third grade (never really stuck) but I thought it was clever enough and a bit of a pun/inside joke

Do I have any other blogs: Nah, just the one. I might make an art blog later, but not now

What did my past relationship-- Let me stop you right there. I’ve never been in a relationship and I honestly don’t plan to be in one anytime soon (although I am a touch-starved, hopeless romantic Aspy)

Religious or Spiritual: although I am a Christian, I’m nondenominational and swing more to the spiritual side of things with my relationship with God

Fav color: gaaah, why make my choose? Any purple, blue, silver... okay so sunset, pastel, muted, earth, metallic shades are really high up there

Average hours of sleep: 5-10; no seriously, school hates me

Fav character: as in as of now?? 0-o Well, anticlimactically, it’s Keith and Lance of Voltron Legendary Defender. I hc Keith as somewhere on the Autistic spectrum with how his actions seem to line up; doesn’t usually hug people, more withdrawn but friendly once you get to know him, obsesses over training, not good with deciphering emotions (or so it seems), crazy emotions and hyper-focusing on what he’s going to do rather than plan ahead (eh, sorta), etc. With that in mind, I can really project and relate with him. As with Lance, I can really relate with the insecurities he talks to Laika about; feeling like a third wheel to your own friends and not good enough on a team. I also see him as a pretty good person and v smart (I know I am too, but don’t show it too often b/c school is a bitch). That and... ffs, I wanna just dance with him. You will have to pull the hc that he’s an amazing and dorky dancer out of my cold, dead hands (course their like that anyway, sooo...) (also see: I love doodling both of these idiots) Don’t get me wrong, I love, love, love Pidge and Shiro and Hunk and everyone, but this is just me

How many blankets do I sleep with: Lots; I freeze v easily 

Dream job: As of now, history teacher with a side of artistry/photography. I’d really like to teach history in a way that doesn’t bore students *suspiciously side glances at Hetalia and Overwatch* heh heh, insert culture explosion here. As an artist, I’d really like to get my stories out there and into the world. And photography’s fun, so why the quiznak not right?

Board games, table top, or video games: video games y’all

Do I have any OCs: lET Me tELL YOU boI!! *ahem* Yes, yes I do. My main cast is for a MCU/Transformers crossover, and their a bunch of dorks. Most of the others I have deal with other fandoms (including Erika Elva, Aistelle, and two Voltron ones w/ no official names yet)

One thing you wish was canon in fiction/fandom: kLancE... yes I am trash and Orca is the only on with permission to smack me upside the head

Fav thing to draw/write/think about: Oh boy, this is a rabbit hole this one. I love anything from myths or fairy tales really, so I incorporate a lot of myth crap into my stories, wither it be origins, weapons, or character design. Doodling wise, Voltron is my muse. Never have I ever felt to enamored with a series. Guess the same can be said about writing and thoughts though, too

I tag: @purpledragon2015, @passionateparamour, @cherryirises, @victuuri-dads, @narratingnavigating, @reballoo, @corn-on-the-ass, @duperderedere, and @akuumea and anyone who has said ‘fuck’ at least once today

[oddstructuree]

Hi!! You're actually the first person I have following my sideblog (thank you!

oh my god!! of course yes, tysm!!!! uh could you maybe do trans!keith?? it's one of my favorite keith hc's and i don't see much fanart of it so that would be wonderful 💕💕 again tysm!!!!!