#overrelies on motion blur

[austiebug]

Oh you just know they stink so good

[cursed-sonic-opinions]

Sonic Unleashed is overrated (within the fandom, at least). People always say that the game is 50% Daytime stages and 50% werehog, but it feels more like 75% Werehog and 25% Daytime. Yes, the Daytime stages are fast and they feel exhilarating to run through, but their speed also makes them way shorter compared to the werehog stages. I can never really appreciate the Daytime stages because of how quickly they're over with, and then it's not long before I'm thrust into drawn out tedious combat. If the game was all Daytime stages, the levels being fast but feeling rather short would be more forgivable.

I know people have come to the Werehog's defense in recent years, but it really had no reason to exist and only brought down what could've been a great game. It should go without saying that most people play Sonic games for Sonic's gameplay. So Sega putting a new, significantly slower gameplay style in Unleashed so soon after 06 was not the best move, and it just angered people more. The game's story is nothing to write home about, either.

Also, this is just a minor nitpick: the amount of motion blur bothers my eyes. I'm glad they toned it down in Generations.

Unleashed didn't deserve to be torn to shreds by critics when it released and rated lower than 06 by some, but it's not one of the best Sonic games.

.

[zwatchtowerz]

I wrote this little 600 words thing for a Teen Wolf community, but nobody understood what I was going for. I know I'm a shitty writer but apparently, I need to share it here to confirm that indeed, I am a shitty writer, and what in my mind was clear and awesome, with a little mystery until the reveal, was actually a mess. No tag were added so I can still confuse people here, thank you.

The Envelope

It was going to be a great week. Mondays weren't her favorite days, but there was a feeling that something big would happen, that something would change her mood for the week. It better be good, she had plans, PLANS for Friday. 

Mondays meant school started again and that alone was enough to make her not like that much Mondays. The first day of the week always meant mentally cursing at everything. She saw teenagers brooding and parents with kids crying their lungs off in the backseat, and wondered how a little cute baby could grow up to be… that. don’t get her wrong, she liked kids, but she had enough of her life as it was.  

She got up the bed and went with her normal routine for breakfast. She was more tired than usual, but nothing that coffee wouldn't cure. Lately, she was feeling nauseous and with a headache that didn't go away as easily as normal. She blamed it on her age, laughing that she was becoming a grandma.  

But Friday would be amazing. 

Friday was Valentine’s day. 

There wasn't a specific reason, but she wanted this Valentine’s to be special. There was an order for roses, because who said a woman couldn't buy flowers for the love of her life? Candles and nice dishes. Even a fancy tablecloth, one like that reminded her of a restaurant. They would stay at home because going out was overrated and pricy. She knew he was too busy with work and he would want a nice night in. 

But before all the surprises, she needed to pass Monday.  

Monday sucked. 

She looked at the envelope, already open and lying on the bed. She made an appointment with a doctor the week before and now she had the results. So the nausea and the headache weren't because she was getting stressed and tired. 

Shit. 

“What I’m going to do now?”, she mumbled. 

Monday turned Tuesday and turned Wednesday. Night become morning and the week passed in a blur. She tried to keep going as usual, but it was hard when the only thing she could think of was The Envelope. She went through the motions, waking up, breakfast, school, lunch, homework, cleaning, dinner, and repeat. 

Valentine's day arrived, making her heart hurt. God, she was so excited about that and now she was a ball of worry.

 She should tell him, this affected both of them. She loved him so much and the news would change everything. There wasn't a single doubt in her heart that he would stay with her through all of it. But her heart also wanted him to enjoy the night date without worry between them. A romantic comedy on the tv as background noise, where love was the solution to all. 

She heard the car arriving at the house and the decision was made. Not tonight. She smiled, trying to show the love and adoration she had for him, and gave him a slow kiss as a welcome. 

“I wasn't expecting this reception”, he said, his arms still around her waist. “Happy Valentine's day.“ Something in her eyes was different, she knew that and he noticed it. 

“You know, whatever is it, you can tell me”, he said. 

“Tomorrow. Let me have tonight”

“Tomorrow”.

They ate, talked, laughed, and later cuddle on the couch, half paying attention to the movie, half talking low about everything and nothing. The red roses in a vase decorated the living room next to pictures of her family. 

Upstairs, hidden in a drawer was The Envelope, the incurable diagnosis with the complicated name inside, waiting for her to be brave enough. Downstairs, a deputy was smiling as his wife told him the story of their 8 year old son asking a million questions about why he was sent to spend the night at his best friend's house and why there were so many red things around the house with the shape of a heart. 

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Once Harry’s peripheral vision detects the blur of his companion’s motions, he glances up out of unexpected curiosity and mild interest, considering he hadn’t been anticipating for anybody to drop by.

When his eyes lock with her bright own, the expression of deep concentration etched into his appearance gradually melts away, replaced by one of fond surprise. A gentle smile works its way across his previously down-turned mouth, his dimples winking into existence as he releases his pen from between his front teeth. His accent weighs in airy and jesting as he lowers the folder in his arms down onto his lap, his head tilting to the side in greeting.

“Fancy seeing you here, Fitzgerald. Figured you’d be off doing a book tour somewhere.”

Y/N returns his simper, picking up the slack of his joke and running with it flawlessly. “I took a detour on the way to my next stop. Thought I’d enrich a few lives with my presence and incredible insight. Only if you’re available, of course.”

Harry’s grin widens slyly, and he proceeds to tap the end of his pen against his Cupid’s bow a few times, feigning contemplation. He hums lowly, swaying his head dramatically as if mulling over her offer, finally deciding on a verdict. “Perhaps I could squeeze you in for a couple minutes or so. Anything for such an esteemed individual.”

She gives him a curt nod to simulate a formal interaction, stepping fully past the threshold of the door to properly make her way into the room. Not many graduate TA’s can say they have offices, so it seems Harry’s intelligence and poise comes with perks. “I’m honored.”

“As you should be.” He quips with feigned arrogance, straightening his back as he sits forward some, tossing his work onto his desk to be handled later. He slumps back into his seat with less elegance than before, allowing his spine to fully decompress now that he doesn’t have to force himself to maintain active focus. He folds one arm over his stomach, balancing his opposite elbow on it and resting his chin atop the knuckles of his loose fist. He shrugs his brows teasingly, regarding her with his typical confident flare. “You know what they say: ‘Time is the most valuable thing a man can spend.’”

“Theophrastus.” Y/N remarks, bobbing her head with familiarity at the wise quote he’d referenced from a respected Ancient Greek scholar. She drums her nails lightly against the cardboard cup in her grasp, watching Harry’s features peak with admiration at her ability to match his quick wit. The edges of her lips twitch in satisfaction. “It’s a valuable message. And I’m sure you’ve used it plenty of times to your advantage.”

“Only a few.”

“Define ‘a few.’”

“Double digits.”

“I figured as much.”

“I would have used, ‘Time is money.’ but I find Benjamin Franklin to be pretty overrated.” He pushes his glasses further up his nose, crinkling it in disgust as a supporting factor to his next statement. “Plus, it would have made me sound like a business major, and I’d rather get electrocuted by lightning via kite before I stoop so low on the food chain.”

Y/N sputters into giggles at his random vendetta, though she can’t deny that she agrees. Men in that area of study tend to be the human equivalent of raw sewage; she’d made the mistake of sleeping with a few and unintentionally confirmed that hypothesis. “Fair enough. I expected some business major slander from you at one point or another.”

“Did you, now?”

“Business and STEM majors are the Antichrist in the eyes of liberal arts majors, so it was a pretty logical assumption. I can read you like an open book, at this point.”

“That’s for the best, I suppose.” She can see him begin to pick at the chipped black nail polish on one of his thumbs, using the index finger of the same hand to lift the crusted lacquer. She doesn’t know if the action is absentminded or not, but she knows that the devilish glint behind his glasses is most definitely intentional. “Got nothing to hide.”

“Good to know. After all,” she cocks her chin up in subtle dominance, her eyes reflecting the entertained intrigue present in his own, tickled at the way they dance around each other’s personalities so well. “‘You should not honor men more than the truth.’”

Harry momentarily presses his tongue into his cheek smugly, fending off another entranced smile as he takes the bait without hesitation, scoffing in appreciation at her clever mannerisms. “Plato.”

“Mmhm. I would have said, ‘Honesty is the best policy.’ but…” Y/N lifts her free hand up to her face and pretends to push an imaginary pair of glasses up her nose, mimicking him from earlier down to the disdainful nose scrunch and the mediocre English accent. “I find Shakespeare to be pretty overrated.”

[stab-the-son-of-a]

Whumptober No.2 - Talking Is Overrated

CW: Verbal abuse, selective mutism, bullying tactics, threats

“Don’t you ever shut up?” Sheridan asked Bryce.

At first he thought it was a joke, a bit of playful banter. He knew he was a bit of a motormouth and dealt with silences the way arachnophobes dealt with spiders: not well, and sometimes screaming. Frankly he’d been relieved- he and Sheridan hadn’t gotten along as children, but when Bryce’s best friend Leah started dating Sheridan, they both put in the effort for the sake of their mutual connection. Joking felt like a step in the right direction.

Unable to help himself, he laughed at the comment. “I’ve been known to sleep talk, so no,” Bryce joked back, nudging Sheridan’s arm.

His friend’s expression twisted and darkened. “Fuck, you’re insufferable and stupid,” they snarled.

“What are you talking about?” He took a step or two back from them, unable to help the motion. “What’s the problem?”

“You!” They exploded, meeting him step for step and then some, until they had him falling onto his ass on the couch and staring up. And then they leaned in, bordering him with their arms and getting right in his face. “You. Are. The. Problem.”

“I- I— what—”

“You’re obnoxious. You can’t keep your mouth shut about anything.”

He flinched at the reminder that he’d let slip a detail about the surprise party for Leah, but he also knew that people hiding and yelling surprise was the exact opposite of Leah’s idea for a good time. “Look,” Bryce began.

“Don’t say a word. For once in your life, shut up and listen.”

Bryce nodded. He was sitting down, to be sure, but he felt like he was sinking through the couch while his head floated away. It was stupid. He could shut up for a minute. His mouth felt too dry to speak anyway.

Sheridan continued, “You’re a fucking disgrace. No one wants to hear about your days scraping by through college or the little bronze trophy you got running a marathon once, or how your boss once gave you a raise because the minimum wage increased. I know these are the only things you have to be proud of but no one cares, Bryce.”

He… he had other accomplishments. He graduated college with honors. He landed a nice job. He had friends that liked him. He…

He had to put in too much effort to get a B. His uncle got him that interview, and his boss was too lenient and hands off to notice he wasn’t up to par. His friends only invited him out when they went somewhere loud, louder than him.

And the whole time, Sheridan remained in their position. Bryce’s chest tightened, wondering when this was meant to end and how. They didn’t lay a finger on him, didn’t even come close, but he felt penned in from all sides.

“You think you’re this great comedian, but you’re not. You don’t get it that just because no one reacted doesn’t mean they didn’t hear you. How arrogant can you get that you think the only reason people aren’t awkwardly entertaining at your stupid attempts at humor or engagement is because they didn’t hear it.”

Unbidden, Bryce remembered all those times when he had assumed they hadn’t heard him, when he said the same comment until someone answered him. That was… obnoxious. How hadn’t he noticed that pattern?

“Is it sinking in yet, Bryce? On a good day people tolerate you. But you go and fuck it up and make every regret trying to be nice and give you a chance.”

“That’s… that’s not true,” Bryce whispered, as if speaking any louder would prove Sheridan right.

They smacked the back of the couch, too close to his head— but they didn’t actually hit him. His heart still ground against his rib cage like a bonesaw. Sheridan lowered their voice as they stated, “It is.”

You’re an ass. You’re a jerk. You’re lying. But the words clogged in his throat, thick and sharp and cloying, like a razor thin wire cinching it shut.

“Try paying attention more and listening instead of talking constantly.” Finally, Sheridan relaxed and pulled back, granting Bryce breathing room. They smiled slightly, almost warm and definitely amused. “Now don’t you dare go and act ridiculous about our private discussion, Bryce. That mouth of yours could get you in trouble.”

Private. Bryce could do private. Just for now. Just because he still wasn’t sure what the hell just happened between them. Was Sheridan threatening him? Or was he just on edge and paranoid because he was overreacting to someone getting into his personal space? What would he even say? Who would he even tell? Leah adored Sheridan. She’d been over the moon and hopelessly in love since day one. She called them her soulmate.

Swallowing, and struggling to get the saliva past his too dry, too tight throat, Bryce nodded his agreement.

On their way out, Sheridan reminded him, “Try not to make an ass of yourself tonight. I have big plans and I don’t need your ego getting in the way.”

-

Bryce didn’t start out trying to listen to Sheridan’s… advice. In fact he wanted to talk more just to spite them, especially after he’d started on his second beer, but every time he tried to join the conversation, to throw in his two cents, to make a timely joke, his throat became tight and he struggled to speak past it. By the time he worked through it, the moment had passed and the conversation had moved on, so he kept quiet.

That night, while out with their friends, Sheridan asked Leah to marry them. She said yes. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes, and she peppered their face with kisses and showed off the ring to anyone and everyone.

She was so happy. The night turned out wonderful.

After, when everyone started to peel away from the conversation and the festivities to return to their normal lives, Leah pulled Bryce aside.

“You’ve been really quiet tonight,” she said.

So people had noticed. An odd feeling squirmed in his chest, but he smiled through it. “Throat’s a little sore,” he lied.

“You’ve probably strained something along the way, Sir Talks-a-lot.” Leah pulled him into a tight hug. Bryce sank into the contact, holding on to her and the comfort as long as he could, but too soon she pulled back. Where her hands lingered on his arms abruptly prickled, though she smiled at him. She was holding on to him, not holding him in place. “I want to ask you something.”

Shoot. Go ahead. I’m all ears. All sorts of answers sprung to mind but he just nodded.

“Would you be my Man of Honor?”

Bryce stopped. Thinking, breathing, probably other functions too. Yes. Yes. He wanted to support her on her day, hell he even wanted to support Sheridan, because they meant so much to her.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “Yes.” Could he say anything other than yes? He was repeating himself. That was annoying.

Shame burned up in his cheeks and he bit down on the rest of his mindless babble. Over Leah’s shoulder, he saw Sheridan approaching. Before Bryce could ruin the moment, he embraced her again, staring blankly over her shoulder as he tried to regain his regular heart rhythm.

“Love you,” Bryce murmured when they finally let go of each other.

“Love you too. Rest that voice of yours, okay?”

He just smiled back at her. It felt awkward and stilted, like he’d forgotten how to move his lips. To his amazement, Sheridan returned the expression as well as they wound an arm around Leah’s shoulders.

“Leah-bunny,” they whispered, “the car is all warmed up. Let’s head out.”

“Oh! Wonderful! Take care, Bryce. Text me when you get home safe, okay?”

He nodded. He swallowed and he nodded as he watched his best friend and her fiancé start to walk away.

Sheridan paused after a few feet and looked over their shoulder. “Oh, and Bryce? Thanks for tonight.”

Thanks for not ruining things. Thanks for not talking too much. It wasn’t just Sheridan who’d appreciated it. The whole group had laughed more, talked more, enjoyed the night more. Clearly they also had noticed the way Bryce finally stopped trying to hog the attention. Clearly they all approved.

He couldn’t think of anything to say in response to Sheridan’s comment, not even hours later, when he sat up in bed and stared out the window at a distant street lamp.

-

Bryce only really noticed it when, six months later, he tried to sit down and draft up a speech for Leah and Sheridan’s wedding, when he sat down in front of a blank piece of paper and couldn’t even consider putting a mark on it.

His mind was static. A heavy blanket of gray and black television snow, or maybe an all obscuring cloud of ash, so thick and oppressive that he couldn’t even breathe.

Gasping, Bryce crumpled the empty paper and threw it and the pen across the room. It was pathetic, it was overdramatic, he was an attention seeking, arrogant prick, and now he was crying and sobbing like a fucking child—

He didn’t know how or when each development occurred. It all seemed like one long blur, marked only by the knowledge that no one had stopped him, no one discouraged the progression.

His emails and texts were short and to the point, the bare minimum. He never reached out to anyone, only responding, and he turned down one on one invitations, so he could blend into the conversation carried by everyone else. Bryce became a detail in the background of life, something to overlook, rather than a participant. The only person not happy about the changes was him.

Bryce couldn’t remember the last time he said a word out loud. Curling up, he buried his head into his knees and tried. He tried opening his mouth and trying to say something frivolous, something at all to prove he still could, but his heart beat rabbit fast and his throat tightened, so narrow he couldn’t even breathe or swallow let alone speak. Tears wet the denim of his knees as he shrank up tighter in a ball.

Even his sobs were silent.

[chancellormatt]

Voltron Rewrite Episode Nineteen - The Singularity of War

    (Warning...this thing is a monster. Seriously, I really got carried away here. If you’re planning on reading this in one go make sure you’re comfortable first, because this is the big boy. Enjoy.)

    The blazing light of explosions flashes across Coran’s face. He stares out at the carnage spread out across the Castle of Lion’s viewport. The forces of the Coalition and the Black Paladins tear into each other, energy blasters and ion cannons causing untold destruction. But his gaze looks past all of that, to lock onto the form of Voltron approaching that of Darktron and Sincline. He strokes his mustache nervously. 

    “Coran?” 

    He is shaken from his study of the monitor and turns to find Romelle standing on the bridge behind him.

    “The Castle is in full combat configuration.” She reports.

    “Ah yes. Very good. Very good…” His gaze shifts back out to the starfield, where the forces of Zarkon and the Coalition smash into one another. He sees a team of Garrison fighters swoop along the side of a Galra cruiser and unleash a payload of energy-bombs that cripple the enemy ship.

    “You wish to be in the thick of it?” She ventures.

    “Yes. This has been my battle for a long time and it pains me not to be backing up the Princes and other paladins. Also...if I’m being honest, I’d really like to show these galra what for one last time. But…” He looks back to the alteans manning stations around the bridge. 

    “...Princess Allura left all of you in my charge. And risking the Castle unnecessarily will help no one. So we will hang back and fire from afar. We will not directly engage until we are needed.

    “And if we are called upon?”

    “well...we’ll just have to show them just what the ship my grandfather designed can really do with a full crew of alteans.”

    Romelle smiles. “Aye aye, Captain.”

    He returns the smile, then turns back to the viewport. Voltron and Sincline finally meet Darktron in a blaze of brilliant light.

    “I leave all my hopes with you, Paladins.” He says in a voice just above a whisper. “Finish this.”

***

    Voltron swings, tearing a blue streak through space. Darktron blocks, blade crackling with violet lightning. Sincline thrusts, blade a blur of purple light. Darktron parries and ripostes, knocking the other mecha back. The three mechas strike at each other,  blades are a storm of glowing blurs, faster than the eye can keep up. 

A powerful clash knocks all backwards. Darktron pulls back, quintessence burning down the blade. It lowers the blade towards them in silent challenge. Sincline makes to move forward.

    “Wait,” Keith starts to say,  “we should pull back and try to-”

    “You don’t scare me, Zarkon!” Sincline Lotor bellows, charging towards the other mecha. Keith curses, and Voltron bursts forward to join Sincline.

Darktron, Sincline and Voltron swing their blades at the same time. When the blades meet a wave of energy explodes outward. The force of the blow flings both Voltron and Sincline tumbling backwards through space.

    Darktron did not give an inch from the blast.

    Jets of energy erupt from Darktron’s wings, thrusting it after the two tumbling mechas. It goes after Voltron, the closer target.

    Voltron’s shield is thrown up at the last second, but Darkon’s swing is powerful enough to the breach the shield, sending two halves spinning.

    Sincline appears behind Darktron, twin swords raised to it's exposed back.

    Darktron doesn’t even turn to raise it's sword overhead and block both of Sincline’s blades. It reaches the other hand behind to blast Sincline in the chest. As Sincline spins away, Voltron swings for Darktron’s head. But Darkton deflects with it's sword then tosses Voltron behind it to crash into Sincline.

    “Get out of my way!” Lotor snarls, shoving Voltron aside.

    He charges at Darktron again, curved swords spinning. Before he can reach the other mecha, Darktron's shoulder cannon materializes and fires. The wave of raw energy hits Sincline like a train. It rockets backwards to smash through a galra cruiser. The cruiser explodes into pieces, while Sincline continues to tumble backwards.

    Darktron turns on Voltron. Lance, Pidge, Hunk and Allura get uneasy expressions. 

    “...it's alright to be afraid.” Keith says in a low voice. “They’re incredibly strong. We’ve all seen it. But we’re also not the same people we were the last time we fought them. We’re stronger together now. Not just on our own, but as a team too. This isn’t going to end the same way as last time.”

    The uncertainty leaves the other paladin’s faces, replaced by resolve.

    Darktron bursts into motion.

    “Here we go…” Keith takes a breath. “...form shield!”

    Voltron’s shield reforms a moment before Darktron’s sword strikes. Violet energy blazes against brilliant blue. 

    “Is that all you can muster?” Prince Lotor of Darktron says, sword beginning to blaze brighter. Pidge grits her teeth, the shield wavering, on the point of breaking once again.

    But then, Lance, Hunk and Allura’s bayard ports slide open. They allow only a moment of surprise before slamming each of their bayards into place.

    The shield, on the verge of splitting, suddenly blazes, multiplying several times its former size. Darktron’s sword is repelled, hurling the mecha back in a flash of lapis light. 

    Darktron rights itself after a moment, and all is still.

    “...so,” Zarkon finally says, “you are not quite as pathetic as you used to be. You’ve acquired strength from resolve. Good. But how is your finesse?”

    Darktron’s dual swords materialize. 

    Inside Voltron the bayard ports of the red and green lions pop open.

    Lance smirks. “I dunno, how are we doing with finesse?”

    Pidge lets out a sigh. “Well, until recently I thought we were doing an excellent job with subtlety.”

    “Subtlety is overrated.”

    “You would say that.” But she returns the smile.

    Both slam their bayards into place. Voltron’s dual blades shimmer into existence.

    Darktron swings for Voltron’s neck first. Pidge blocks, straining against the other blade. Lance parry’s the next attack, and counters with a thrust for Darktron’s gut. Darktron twists, blade sparking off it's side. Darktron replies with a kick, but Lance and Pidge cross their blades, blocking the strike. However it gives Darktron a chance to throw a quick jab for Voltron’s chest with one blade, followed by a second with the other. The first is completely deflected but the second grazes the green arm.

    The two mechas fall into a back and forth, blades striking against one another in clashes of blinding light. 

    “You’re keeping up! Impressive! But for how long!?” Zarkon taunts, blades moving so fast they’re barely visible.

    Keith grits his teeth. “I think-”

    “Zarkon!” Sincline Lotor bellows. “I found something of yours!”

    Both turn just in time for a galra cruiser to smash into them. The front of the ship crumples as they are buried in it's innards. 

    A burst of energy from Darktron obliterates the entire cruiser, sending Voltron flying out of the wreckage.

    As soon as Darktron is freed, Sincline, hovering above, unleashes it's chest beam. Darktron’s shoulder cannon appears, firing at the same time. 

    The two beams collide, bleeding off waves of energy that vaporize any of the fightership unlucky enough to be nearby. The cockpits of the respective mechas tremor under the enormous pressure. Lotor throws his levers as far as they will go, intensity of the beam growing in response. 

    Darktron’’s beam inches backwards, starting to be overwhelmed by that of Sincline.

    Zarkon only grins. “You have an impressive machine. It has only one flaw…”

    Paladin Lotor, Honerva and Raimon slam their bayards into place.

    “...it's not Voltron.”

    Darktron’s blast engulfs Sincline’s blasting it away. But Darktron doesn’t leave it there. The harpoon gun materializes and fires after Sincline, spearing the other mecha. Darktron pivots, swinging the tethered Sincline to crash into the recovering Voltron.

    They’re flung backwards, smashing through an errant asteroid, pulverizing it. 

    Sincline shakes off the damage, and moves to charge Darktron again. His arm is caught by Voltron’s grip. 

    “Stop.” Keith commands.

    “I don’t take orders from you! Now get out of my way!”

    “You’re being an idiot, Lotor! I know you want to take down Zarkon, but has it really been so long since you’ve had to work with a team?”

    “I don’t need help! I’ve never needed help.”

    “Do you want to get yourself killed!?”

    He doesn’t reply.

    “...are you trying to get yourself killed?” Allura is the one to ask this time.

    Still he remains silent. Darktron advances on them.

    “...I want to kill Zarkon, no matter the cost.”

    “Then help us do that.” Keith says, “By working with us.”

    Darktron gets closer.

    Inside the cockpit of Sincline, Lotor closes his eyes and squeezes his throttles. He lets out a breath and opens his eyes back up. Darktron is nearly upon them, sword pulled back.

    “If you have a plan…then take the lead.”

    Keith quirks the faintest of smiles. 

“Spilt!”

    The two mechas dash in opposite directions, Darktron’s sword slashing through the empty space. 

    “We’ll constrict their movement, you go in close!” Keith declares.

    Voltron’s cannon appears, erupting in it's spray-fire mode. Dozens of destructive motes of light spray after Darktron. The mecha’s boosters burn into overdrive as it spins away from the energy motes. The motes follow, blue lines trailing after fleeing mecha. Darktron zigzags, losing some of the motes into the faces of asteroids, and others into the sides of galra cruisers. Sincline blocks it's path, blades spinning. Darktron simply forces Sincline back with a blast from one of its hands and changes direction again, motes still following. The chase takes Darktron towards one of the planets orbiting the nearest star. It loses more of the motes by leading them into the side of one of the planet’s moons. 

    Sincline cuts off Darktron’s path again, ducking the hand-blast this time and going in for the kill. Darktron deflects the twin blades with it's sword, while using it's free hand to activate it's shield and block the remaining motes. The shield endurs the rainfall of energy against it, but a moment later a secondary impact hits the shield.

    Voltron’s harpoon. Voltron jerks the tethered Darktron to the side, opening its defenses wide. Sincline swings again, and this time the swords strike true. 

    A flash of violet light burns when the blades with Darktron’s chest.

    Darktron plummets down into the surface of the moon below. It's crash creates a crater, massive chunks of rock flying upwards. 

    “Now! Hit ‘em with everything you've got!” Keith yells.

    Sincline charges up it's chest beam while Voltron materializes it's arm cannons. Both let loose on Darktron below. 

    The beams of energy collide with Darktron, washing over it. More chunks of rock and debris fly up as Darktron is driven deeper. The crater widens, cracking a significant portion of the moon’s surface. Then, the stone around Darktron begins to glow. It melts under the constant heat and pressure from the waterfall of pure energy, swallowing up Darktron. Molten rock bubbles up, spraying droplets across the surface. Still, they keep firing. 

    Finally, the two mechas let up, spent.

    The Paladins and Lotor struggle to catch their breaths.

    “Did...we get...them…?” Lance pants out.

    “I’m not-” Keith starts to say before he is cut off.

    “You children…” Zarkon says, “...deserve commendation. I hate every single one of you and will enjoy ripping your bodies out of your lions, and your organs out of your bodies, and then putting them on display for the whole universe to see. But you have forced me into a corner, and for that you have my highest praise. Supremely stupid and futuile as it was, you have graduated yourselves from a minor nuisance to a wrench in my plans. So congratulations…”

    Under the lava there is a burst of violet light. Then a massive form begins to move under the surface. 

    “...you will get the honor of dying as few others have.”

    Darktron, in it's massive armored form rises out of the pool of lava, molten rock dripping off it's armor. 

    “Well,” Keith says, “Quiznak.”

***

    “So…you think they have a chance?”

    Skriel asks the question from within the Paladin Crusher 2.0, defending from a team of robeasts’ relentless strikes. Matt is dealing with the same from Luca’s robeast. The two mechas fight back to back, surrounded as they are. 

    “A chance? Sure, there’s always a chance.” Matt replies, using the Atlas’ armblade to block one of Luca’s strikes. The swing is deflected but the glowing blade still lands a glancing blow on the Atlas’ armor.

    “Yes, but what precisely would you put the odds at?”

    “Dunno, maybe like thirty percent?”

    “THIRTY PERCENT!?”

    Matt smirks as Luca drives forward to press the attack. She knocks aside the armblade and thrusts for the gut of the Atlas. She isn’t prepared for the second blade that slides out of the Atlas’s other arm. The bladed spear is turned away and before Luca can pull back she receives a glancing blow on her robeast’s arm. A match for the one she left on the Atlas.

    “Yep. About thirty percent. But I’ll tell you what, if it was only one percent, or even one tenth of a percent, I’d still bet on my sister and her friends. Because they’ve been beating long odds ever since they stepped in those lions. None of us would be here right now if that wasn’t true.”

    “Well, I guess I can agree with that, human.” 

The Paladin Crusher catches one robeasts’ blades along the haft of it's axe, but is driven backwards by it's twin, bumping against the back of the Atlas.

“You need a hand there?” Matt asks.

“We most certainly do not!” Skriel declares. “I think it's time to show these whelps what the Crusher 2.0 can really do! Mutava?”

    “Yes, this battle is getting a little too close for my tastes.” The other galra replies, throwing a lever from within his cockpit.

    The Paladin Crusher’s head splits open, a large barrel poking out from within. It fires, violet beam melting through the head of one robeast. Armor breached, the pilot is thrown free of the broken mecha. The second robeast pulls back, spinning it's spear to deflect the head-beam’s second shot. 

    “Ublok!”

    “I’ve got him.” The large galra grunts, throwing a lever of his own.

    The Paladin Crusher raises an arm and it's fist fires off the arm, propelled by a jet of purple flame. The robeast keeps it's spinning spear up to block the projectile, but the fist diverts downward, slipping under the makeshift shield, then tilts back up to smash the robeast in the chest. The robeast is flung backwards but the fist isn’t done. It grabs a hold of the robeast’s head and rockets in reverse, jerking it back towards the waiting axe of the Paladin Crusher. The robeast is sliced clean in half, systems going dead as the pilot rockets free.

    “Ohoho! That’s what you get for trying to challenge Skriel the Great and his Mighty Lackies!” 

    “Mighty Lackies?” Erva says with disdain.

    “Yes, feel free to be honored by the title.”

    “You little...oh forget it.” She sighs. 

    “I’m glad you’re having so much fun over there, but do you mind giving us a hand?” Matt asks, trying to defend not just from Luca, but two other robeasts flanking her. And more are on their way to the skirmish.

    “Certainly! It's time to show just how superior the Paladin Crusher is to your silly earth machine!

    “...Huhuhu. Paladin Crusher you say?”

    The four galra warlords freeze at the sound of the new voice over the comms. 

    “...a bit gaudy, but that always was your style, Skriel.”

    “That voice…” Skriel says.

    Across from them the galra formations split, opening a rift in their previously tight lines. Through that rift comes a massive galra ship that dwarfs those around it. Its armor is pitch black, broken only by thin lines of glowing purple running up and down it's length. 

“Human, I’m afraid you’re going to have to deal with these robeasts on your own.” Skriel says in a low voice. He and Erva throw their levers, axe splitting into two hatchets.

    “What? Why?”

    “That ship headed towards us is commanded by Ru’vak the Unbroken.”

    “Who the heck is that!?”

    “He is considered one of, if not the greatest Galra Commander in the entire Empire. His title comes from the fact that in his entire career, he has never once lost a battle.”

    “How come I’ve never heard of him?”

    “He was sent into exile before The Voltron Coalition’s war with the Empire began. No official reason was ever given for his reassignment. However, the rumor was that Zarkon grew...uncomfortable with how respected Ru’vak was in the fleet.”

    “An unfounded worry,” The voice, Ru’vak, says. “I am and always have been loyal to the Empire. Unlike you scum. Honestly, I thought I taught the four of you better.”

    Skriel sighs. “He’s also the man that trained us…”

    The ship begins to glow and split apart.

    “Oh.” Matt says.

    Metal plates separate, revealing joints and limbs. It all pulls apart and comes back together in a bulky humanoid in shape, and even larger than the Paladin Crusher. In one hand it holds a large round shield with a serrated edge. In its other, a great hammer. The pitch black armor creates the visual effect of there being a silhouetted emptiness in the space before them. The only source of light on it is a single blazing violet eye at the center of its head.

    “This is Ru’vak, tell the reserves to jump in now behind the invading forces. We have the other mecha-class vehicles engaged, their forces should not be able to avoid being encircled.”

    The dark armored mecha spins its hammer in one hand. 

    “Now, let us see how your Paladin Crusher fares against my World Bane.”

    ***

    Coran watches the enemy’s reserve force jump in behind the Coalition ships. In seconds the enemy galra ships spread out, locking in the Coalition back line. Enemies in front, enemies behind. Nowhere to run. 

    “We’re between a hammer and an anvil!” Ryner cries over the radio.

    “Not if we’ve got anything to say about it!” Coran declares.

    He turns to Romelle, a slight grin on his face.

    “Arm the Castle’s primary weapon. It seems the battle has come to us.”

    She nods quickly before letting her fingers fly across the console in front of her.

    “Weapons ready!” She says as a cloud of galra fighters begin their assault on the Coalition ships. 

    “Well then let’s see how those dastardly galra like a mouthful of this!” Coran shouts, slamming his fist into the console. Energy crackles throughout the ship, surging to its zenith at the tip of the castle’s primary tower.

    A beam of pure energy tears across space, ripping a line through the cloud of fighters. Explosions in the form of bright orange orbs appear anywhere the beam meets an enemy ship. 

    “Multiple direct hits! Enemy fighters scattering!” Romelle reports.

     “Excellent! Now let’s see about engaging those cruisers!” He turns to Vatta who mans another console. “Prime the barrier.”

    Vatta nodded, doing as he says.

    Coran sends the Castle forward, another beam firing. It takes a galra cruiser in the side, cracking the armoran eliciting an explosion, but not a fatal one. The cruiser, along with several of it's companions turn and fire back at the Castle.

    A series of violet beams slam into the Castle’s particle barrier. The Castle shakes but remains unharmed.

    “Status?” Coran asks. 

    “Barrier holding, but I’d avoid getting shot more than necessary.” Vatta reports.

    “This is a battlefield.”Coran says, narrowing his eyes. “That may not be possible.”

    “We’ll just have to destroy them first, then.” Romelle remarks.

    “I like the way you think, lass! Let’s give them a little more to chew on!”

    Coran slams his fist into the console again.

***

    Admiral Sanda cruises through the battlefield in her fighter, flanked by her wingmates. They dip and dodge through a sea of enemy fighters, tearing a burning swath through their number. 

    They move towards one of the enemy cruisers.    A team of fighters break off, engaging them. 

    “Crab formation.” Sanda says, driving forward to bait the enemy fighters before pulling back, to let her wingmates pull around to catch the fighters in a pincer attack. They blast the enemy fighters to smithereens.

    “Now let’s bomb the crap out of them.”

    They fly over the top of the cruiser, releasing bombs. The magnetically charged capsule lock onto the surface of the cruiser, before detonating their payloads. The fighters drop an explosive trail across the top of the cruiser, weakening it's exterior armor. 

    A Coalition galra cruiser fires it's ion cannon, finishing off the cruiser in a massive explosion.

    “Alright! Sanda says, voice almost nearly a cheer. “Let take on the next-”

    She is cut off, when she and her wingmates are caught in a stray enemy ion blast. One of her wings is clipped, one engine showing warning signs of being damaged. 

    She goes into an uncontrolled spin. Despite this, rather than panic, Sandra cringes. 

    “This is gonna be a bumpy landing…”

***

    A beam of energy erupts from each of the Armored Darktron’s hands. One smashes into Voltron, the other, Sincline. Both mechas are flung backwards, plummeting down to the planet below. Bright orange plasma envelops them as they burn through the planet’s atmosphere.

    Darktron chases after their falling forms, tearing a violet trail through space. It rips it's sword into existence mid-descent. Still in the upper-atmosphere, Darktron swings it's massive blade.

    The shield Voltron throws up may as well not exist. Both halves go flying and the energy from Darktron’s blade slashes against Voltron’s armor. The Paladins scream, threatening to break back to five lions. They hold together. Barely. 

    While Voltron is hurled back to plummet back even faster by the blow, Darktron turns on the other mecha. Sincline crosses both swords to block Darktron’s swing. There is a crackle of blinding light when the blades meet. 

    Sincline is sent spinning, one sword cracked and leaking quintessence. 

    The Paladins and Lotor tremble under tremendous G-forces as the surface races up to meet them. They all make one last effort to pull up their machines before striking the rocky surface.

    Darktron swings again. It doesn’t matter that the mecha is a mile higher in the air than that others. The energy from its blade carries, swinging down in a bright arc to slam into the backs of Voltron and Sincline. They smash into the surface at full-force, sending massive cracks across the stone.

    A moment later, Darktron hits the ground in a crouch, shattering the ground even further. Multiple sun hangs in the sky above, varied in color, casting harsh and uneven light on the scene. Voltron and Sincline both try to rise. Both fail.

    “...there is an old galra tale, about a soldier who wanted to be emperor.” Zarkon begins, “His dream brought him strength in battle. Soon the Soldier was the most famous warrior in the Empire. Finally the Emperor bestowed upon him the title ‘High Commander of Legions.” A position in the Empire second only to the emperor. But the Soldier was not content. He could not live with being the second greatest. So he challenged the Emperor to a duel for his position. The Emperor accepted. Their battle lasted all day,  from sunrise to sunset. Finally, one fell and one remained. The Emperor had prevailed. As he lay there bleeding out, the Soldier asked how, how after rising to the greatest of soldiers, could he still have lost? The Emperor replied, ‘the greatest of soldiers, is still a soldier. The least emperor, still an emperor. Your blade was just a sword. But mine, was the blade of an empire. Soldiers simply die. But emperors live on forever in their empires.’ You see Paladins, you have grown strong. But your strength has reached its ceiling. And all you can do now, is look up.”

    Keith lets out a cough. “N-nice...story. I bet emperors love telling it. Makes ‘em feel safe. I’ve got one for you too: At the end of the game, the king and the pawn go into the same box.” 

    “Perhaps. Kings and pawns, emperors and soldiers all end up in the ground once they die. Except that I have no plans to die. Not now, not ever. When I’m done with you, I will finish what I began so long ago and remake this universe as it should be.  I will ascend beyond any other being before me. And there be nothing, no kingdom or empire and no memory for you to live on through. That children, is what you earn for your struggle.”

    “This fight...isn’t over...yet!” Keith declares.

    The five paladins strain, forcing the prone Voltron up onto all fours. Then, with a great effort, it shakily rises to two feet. 

    “Defiant to the end?”

    “Sure am.”

    “Admirable, if useless. If you’re so eager to see your comrade, that former Paladin...then I’ll send you on your way.”

    Keith’s eyes burn, melting away the pain an exhaustion of a moment before. Not just his, but all the paladin’s eye blaze with anger. 

    “Lotor...you still alive?” Keith asks. 

    “...unfortunately.” His reply comes a moment later.

    “Good. Because we’re about to kill Zarkon, and I didn’t want you to miss that.”

    “Not not if I do first…”

    And with that Sincline is suddenly back to its feet. Darktron turns back and forth between the two mechas. Zarkon lets out a chuckle.

    “Paladins…” Keith says, taking in a breath. “...use everything!” 

Pidge’s arm-cannon materializes and fires. Darktron raises it's sword blocking the blue beam on its edge. Voltron jets forward, Lance activating the sword. Darktron swings its own sword, energy from the blade leaping out in an arc. Keith drives Voltron low, narrowly dodging the slash of energy. The blade of energy continues past to slice off the top of a mountain in the distance, causing an avalanche. Hunk’s shoulder cannon appears. Darkton raises it's shield to block. Allura slams her bayard into place a moment later. They shift the aim of the cannon down at Darktron’s feet and fire. A blast of icy energy erupts from the cannon, freezing Darktron’s legs to the ground.

    On the other side, Sincline lets loose with it's chest beam. Darktron swings it's shield around to block the blast. Voltron seizes on the opportunity, driving forward with it's sword. Before the sword swings, Pidge Hunk and Allura slam their bayards into place, expanding the sword into its greatsword configuration. The Paladins let out a collective battle cry as they swing.

    Darktron deflects with a casual flick of it's sword.

    “Pathetic.” Zarkon says.

    Voltron tears the sword apart into its dual blades, Lance and Pidge swinging in tandem. Darktron easily turns both blades aside. 

    “Useless.” Paladin Lotor chimes in.

    Keith slams his bayard into place, and both swords burst into flame. Darktron swings at the same time as they do. They catch the much larger sword between their two blazing ones. The ground beneath Voltron shatters from the impact. But for a moment they resist being forced back. 

 Sincline drives forward, spinning with both blades outstretched. The blades rattle harmlessly against Darktron’s shield, but the mecha’s bladed tail slips around the guard making for Darktron’s head. 

“Thoughtless.” Honerva remarks.

    Daktron twists, wrenching Voltron’s blades to the side, then slamming it's shield into the mecha as it brings its blade around to deflect Sincline’s tail.

    The impact of the shield sends Voltron crashing back to the ground. Sincline snarls and unleashes a flurry of swings at the larger mecha. 

    Darktron releases the shield, as if completely unconcerned. It deflects blow after blow, easily keeping up with Sincline despite the blinding speed. No matter how close the blade comes to hitting home, it is always turned away. 

    Voltron surges back to its feet, and Allura summons the harpoon gun. 

“I don’t think they seem to understand...” Sendak says as Darktron’s feet rip free of the ice. 

    Allura fires. Sincline swings at the same time, seeing an apparent opening.

    Darktron releases its sword and catches the harpoon with one hand, and the blade of Sincline’s sword with the other. Sincline struggles to drive the blade forward but it doesn’t budge an inch. Allura is likewise unable to reel in the harpoon.

    “...even working together, you will never defeat my Voltron in this form.” Zarkon says.

    And with that the hand holding Sincline’s blade clenches down hard. The already cracked blade shatters into purple shards. Sincline stumbles back, Lotor in its cockpit, shocked.

    Allura, Hunk, Pidge and Lance are equally taken aback. 

Only Keith manages to remain focused. He slams his bayard into place, causing Voltron’s tether and the harpoon at its end to burst into flame. The flame licks up Darktron’s arm, briefly stunning the mecha’s occupants. That fraction of a moment is all they need. Allura reels in the tether, but rather than draw Darktron towards them, she uses it to fling Voltron at it. A moment before they collide with the other mecha Keith yells out an order:

“Hunk, Cannon!”

The shoulder-cannon appears, inches from Darktron’s face. It fires point-blank.

The entire upper-half of Darktron is engulfed in the monumental burst of energy. The light from the pure quintessence meeting Darktron’s armor momentarily blinds all present.

Darktron is forced back a step.

Hunk’s cannon burns until it is completely dry. Finally, spent, Voltron stumbles back, hardly remaining upright.

    Waves of heat radiate off of Darktron. For a moment it, and everything else on the battlefield is still.

    “...a nice try.” Zarktron’s voice says, to the disappointment of all paladins.

    Darktron surges forward, snatching Voltron by the neck and slamming it into the fractured ground.

    “But that wasn’t really a cannon!” Zarkon snarls.

    Sendak slams his bayard into place. A cannon nearly as big as Voltron appears on its shoulder.

    “This is a cannon!”

    “P-pidge!” Keith managed to get out.

    Pidge manages to pull the shield in between the two mechas. 

The Armored Darktron’s cannon erupts.

    The blast of energy that follows is so bright it can be seen by the warring ships out in space. Voltron is blasted straight through the middle of the planet. Through the crust into the burning mantle below. It rips through the core like a stone dropped into the sea. Finally, Voltron is blasted out the other side of the planet, into space beyond. There it shatters into five lions. Each of them, limp and powerless. 

    Back on the planet, Darktron hovers in the air as the cannon is dismissed. Below the mecha, is a hole wider than a galra cruiser and as deep as the planet itself.

Zarkon lets out a satisfied chuckle. 

Sincline launches itself at Darktron’s back, ferocious as a wild animal.

Darktron backhands the other mecha so hard it flies into orbit. Zarkon watchesas its form disappears into space.

“My love, I must tell you, we are nearing our limit in this form. The cannon does use up quite a lot” Honerva informs, “We have perhaps two dobashes, even with no more major expenditures of energy.”

“That is fine. This battle is over.”

Darktron takes to the sky.

***

    Bolts of energy fall across the star-filed like drops of rain. Ships belonging to the Coalition and Dark Paladins alike burn and die. The Castle of Lions takes the brunt of many of these blasts, having earned the attention of a half-a-dozen galra cruisers. 

“Particle barrier down to twenty-percent!” Vatta reports.

    Fighters swarm the Castle, chipping away further at the barrier. 

    “We should pull back!” Romelle says.

    “To where?” Coran replies. “If this backline falls the Coalition formation collapses!” 

    “Fifteen percent!” Vatta updates.

    Coran slams his fist into the console. Another beam flies free, another enemy cruiser destroyed in a ball of plasma. Two more take its place.

    “Ten percent!”

    Coran scans the battlefield. Their allies are held back too far to offer support. The Castle is the primary force staving off the enemy ships attacking their backline. They show no sign of letting up on their assault of the Castle. Coran takes in a breath.

    “Five percent!”

    Coran sets his jaw, fingers flying across the keyboard of his console.     “Attention all alteans onboard!” He yells through the intercom, as periodic small palm-sized pads appear near alteans all over the Castle. “I call upon you in this time of great need! If you wish to contribute to this battle in your own way! If you wish to help fight to free your enslaved brethren! Place a hand on one of these panels and lend us your strength!”

    Across the ship alteans look at the pads, dubious. One does not hesitate even for a moment. Romelle slams her palm down immediately. She nods to Coran with a determined look. He smiles and nods back. One by one, the other alteans start placing their palms down. Finally, Coran places his own palm down. A green button pops up on his console. 

     “Let’s hope you’re the genius you always claimed to be grandpapi!” 

    “We’re down to one-percent!” Vatta reports, shortly after placing her own palm down.

    “I do love dramatic timing!” Coran declares, slamming a hand down on the button.

    The Castle is immediately wreathed in a blinding white light. There is a lull in the fire from the galra ships, uncertain of this new development. Seams appear in the Castle’s armor. It begins to split apart and reform. It's four exterior towers rearrange, and break at the formation of new joints. They become legs, ending in clawed feet. Meanwhile the main tower reforms into a torso. Finally a feline head bursts out of the front of the body, while a spiked tail stretches out from the back. 

    The White Lion lets out a mighty roar.

    “Transformation stabilized!” Romelle reports.

    “This is Dramor in the engine-room. Our output is up three-hundred percent!”

“It worked...” Coran says, looking near on the verge of tears. “My grandfather’s design worked! The White Lion lives!” 

    The enemy ships, recovering from their shock, resume fire. But Coran drives the White Lion into motion, dipping and dodging around the blasts. It opens its mouth and unleashes a blast of blue-white energy that rips a hole clean through one of the galra cruisers. It explodes in a ball of orange flame. 

    A holographic display of weapons appear above Coran’s console. “Let’s try this one…”

    A long bladed knife appears in the jaws of the Lion. It bursts forward, cleaving through the side of another pair of cruisers. Armor ruptured, the cruisers collapse in on themselves before exploding into shards of space-junk.

    “Now then...who’s next!?”

***

    The Atlas trades blows with Luca’s robeast. They clash back and forth before she pulls back and two of her allies trade in. The pair swing their weapons in unison, assaulting the Atlas’ twin-bladed guard, forcing it back. The moment the Atlas pulls back for a counterattack swing, they disengage and Luca dives in to slam a spear into the Atlas’ chest. Immediately it begins its energy drain of the Atlas’ power.

    Another squad of robeasts move towards the group, but they are waved off by Luca.

    “We have this one. Go help restore the Array, that is the priority.”

    “Yes ma’am!” 

    They race off into the distance, where the Array of rings is quickly being repaired by the remaining robeasts. 

Luca continues to drain the Atlas.

    “Stealing our energy, how rude.” Matt says, fingers flying across a projected keypad over the wrist of his control fixture. Alarms blaze across the Atlas’ screens but he ignores them.

    “Sir-” An officer starts to say.

    “Yeah, I’m aware we’re getting our power sucked dry! Isolate the location of the breach and cut it off from our core!” 

    “Yes sir!” 

    The officers work furiously. The spear’s drain cuts out a moment later. Luca scoffs. “You think that’ll stop me!?”    

She splits off the other side of the spear and thrusts it for the Attlas’ head.

    “Nah,” Matt smirks, “Just delaying you long enough to get a leg up!” 

    With that Matt kicks Luca’s robeast in the chest letting it's boosters erupt. The two mechas are hurled in opposite directions from the burst of propulsive energy. 

    The Atlas rights itself, just as the other two robeasts swoop in. They trade turns battering the Atlas with strikes, slipping several sparking cuts past it's guard. Matt is unconcerned at the damage chipping away at their armor.

    “Has that predictive algorithm finished algorithm finished figuring these guys out?”

    “Yes sir!”

    “Then let’s start kicking the crap out of them.”

    Atlas catches the next spear-thrust by the haft, shocking the pilot. Matt heaves, swinging the robeast into it's companion. He then ejects one of the Atlas’ arm blades to sink through one robeast and out the back of the other. Both beasts explode, flinging out pods. 

    Letting out a battle-cry, Luca takes her spear in both hands and swings for the Atlas' head. But with the attack clearly telegraphed by the Atlas’ display, Matt easily dodges the swing. He dodges the next one, and the one after that.

    “How!?” Luca exclaims.

    “With a bit of math.” Matt says, dodging another swing before, snatching hold of Luca’s spear. He twists the weapon, wrenching it free of the robeast’s grip.

    The Atlas levels its arm-blade at the robeast’s chest.

     “With logic and odds, I can predict any move you’re gonna make. You’re done.”

    The shoulders of the robeast slump. Matt sighs.

    “Don’t feel too bad. We’re really just trying to help-”

    Luca’s robeast suddenly burst forward, letting the Atlas’ blade sink into its side. 

    “And what if I just take the hit!?”   

    The blade crackles in the robeast’s side, narrowly missing the core. She is still able to lock the Atlas into a powerful embrace, holding its arms down.

    “Your systems are compromised!” Matt says.

    “Doesn’t matter.” She shoots back.

    The robeast’s chest begins to glow, gathering energy for a blast. Matt can’t help but grin.

    “This girl...has got spunk! You remind me just a little bit of my sister when she’s being stubborn. So while I’m not gonna hold back...I will feel a little bad about this!”

    He swings the Atlas’ head down to smash into the robeast’s. The blow jars Luca in her cockpit, and the embrace loosens. The Altas throws both arms up, breaking the grip entirely, then takes the stolen spear in a two handed grip and swings.

    The blow cracks the robeast’s already breached armor, flinging it backward with bleeding quintessence leaking out in its wake. He raises a gauntlet to fire a finishing blast, one that Luca doesn’t seem capable of dodging.

    Before he can let loose, something slams into the back of the Atlas, sending it spinning forward. 

    “What th-

A battered Paladin Crusher hangs in space, lights quite a bit dimmer than before.

“S...so strong.” Ublok says.

    “And fast.” Mutava adds.

    Matt swallows as a worried clamor rises on the Atla’s bridge.

    The World Bane approaches at a leisurely pace.

    “Oh, I do hope I didn’t break that toy already.” Commander Ru’vak rumbles. “I was just beginning to have some fun. But look, here comes another…”

    Matt narrows his eyes, twirling his claimed spear.

    “Take your best shot, old-timer. This thing isn’t held together by hopes and dreams like the galra’s finest over here.”

    “Hey!” Skriel objects.

    “And I’d say the odds are on our side. I should know. I’m pretty good at math.”

    “Very well, youngster! Show me you best! Make my blood boil with the glory of battle!” Ru’vak says with glee, driving the World Bane forward, shield-first. 

    The Atlas swings the spear, but it scrapes harmlessly against the shield. The World Bane replies by swinging its hammer in an overhead arc. Matt barely dodges out of the way. As the Atlas pulls back, the World Bane twists, swinging its bladed shield. Matt managed to block with the haft of the spear, rotating blade of the shield sending out sparks and shoving the Atlas backwards.

    The World Bane drives forward again, swinging the hammer once more. But this time as the Atlas starts to pull back a jet of energy erupts from the back of the hammer, accelerating its arc to a blinding speed. It smashes down against Atlas's head, cracking the armor.

    The bridge is shaken from the blow. Still Matt drives the Atlas into motion, barely dodging another swing of the bladed shield.

    “Please tell me we’ve got a read on that thing!” Matt yells.

     “Yes sir, I believe we do!”

    “Then throw it up.”

    Immediately a predictive outline of the World Bane’s future attacks appears.

    “Okay…” 

    The Atlas dodges another rocket-hammer swing, then blocks a shield blow. The World Bane pulls back. The Atlas makes an attack for its head, causing the World Band to raise its shield, but it's a feint, instead jamming the spear low under the shield’s guard.

    The spear’s blade rakes against the World Bane’s armor, shoving it back slightly.

    “Impressive.” Ru’vak says.

    Matt grins, moving forward, already dodging a blow that hasn’t even been swung yet. A fist buries itself in the Atlas’ face. The mechas sails back, Matt shocked.

     “Zepta Fo.” Ru’vak says. The World Bane’s fist is outstretched, shield having retracted.

      He drives forward, sinking a knee in the Atlas’ gut. Then takes the hammer in both hands, and swings it down onto the Atlas’ back.

 “He’s switched tactics, adjusting!”    

The Atlas readies itself itself for another attack, predictive outline appearing again. But rather than lead with a fist as it would suggest, The World Bane goes low, swings and let’s go of its hammer, 

“Reyna Sin.” Ru’vak says as the rocket drives the hammer forward to smash into the Atlas’ chest. The Atlas is flung backwards, clipping a Coalition ship. The hammer rockets back into the World Bane’s waiting hand.

“Do you think a commander as experienced as I know only one style of fighting?”   

He swings the hammer into an underhanded grip while pulling the shield back out.

“Vintas mor. Still like your odds, youngster?”

    “Liking them less…”

***

    The five lions of Voltron hang in space, battle raging around them. The paladins are as limp as their lions, not one of them conscious. A nearby explosion pelts the Black Lion with debris, shaking it.

    Keith begins to stir. His eyes flicker open and he winces with pain. With an effort he manages to sit up. 

“...is everyone alright?” 

There is a pause.

“I don’t think I've ever been less alright in my whole life.” Lance says, “But I am alive.”

Keith cracks a pained smile at that. “Allura, Hunk, Pidge?”

“N-not dead yet.” Allura stammers.

Hunk lets out a groan. “...did you have to wake me up?”

“Pidge here...for the good that is.”

Keith tries the throttles of his lion. No response.

    “Can anyone move their lions?”

    He’s met with a chorus of refusals. Keith sighs, but nods as if expecting this.

“Level with us...this fight is over isn’t it?” Lance asks.

Keith hesitates before replying.

“It does look bad…”

The other paladins get sullen looks.   

    “...but I’m not giving up yet. We can’t give up yet. If we do...well then there really is no chance. Our friends are still fighting. We’ve just got to hope they’ll last long enough for us to get our lions back online.”

    “So we can get curb-stomped by Darktron again?”

    “So we can find a way to win.”

    None of the other paladins say anything but they do straighten in their seats and grip their throttles a little tighter.

    “Alright, anyone got any ideas?”

    Everyone is silent for a moment.

    “If...if that armored form is so powerful, why don’t they always use that right from the beginning?” Hunk asks.

    “Pride?” Keith suggests. “Zarkon wanted to beat us on skill alone?”

    “Zarkon is proud but he’s not stupid.” Allura points out, “He wouldn’t put his entire plan at risk simply to satisfy his desire for an even battle.”

    “Then...maybe there’s a limit to it?” Lance says cautiously.

    “That...might actually make sense.” Pidge says with realization. “Think about it. Voltron, our Voltron can only use so much energy at a time. Look at us right now. It took every drop on quintessence we had just to survive that blast and we only just barely did that.”

    “If there is a limit...then what do we do? Just wait for it to run out?” Keith asks.

    “All we really can do. That and hope they don’t kill us in the meantime.”

    “That...may be too much to hope for.” Hunk says, “Look.”

    Darktron rises up from the planet’s atmosphere. It heads towards the lions, in no particular rush. For the first time, Keith looks defeated.

    Darktron draws its sword.

    “I’ll make it quick. I believe you’ve earned that much.” Zarkon says.

    Darktron raises its blade.

    Keith frantically tugs on his throttles. No response.

    “And just who said I was done with you!?” Lotor yells from within Sincline.

    His mecha tears across the starfield, brandishing the remaining sword in both hands.

    Darktron doesn’t even turn too look, casually swinging its blade to the side, deflecting Sincline’s strike. He swings again, Darktron deflects once more, then punches Sincline hard enough to send him crashing into the side of a Coalition cruiser. Another slash of energy from Darktron’s blade and the cruiser explodes around him. Keith winces at the loss of life.

    Panting, Lotor, drives Sincline after Darktron again. It's a futile gesture, each strike easily blocked. 

    “He’s going to die…” Allura realizes.

    “We’ll have to hope that Darktron uses up too much energy to keep up the armor.”

    “He won’t last that long.”

    As if to prove the point, Dark kicks Sincline into an asteroid, shattering it.

    “He...probably won't.” Keith admits.

    “If he had some kind of edge…”

    “What about all that teleporting he did to rough us up back when we fought?” Lance asks.

    “No, that’s far too dangerous. It compromised the space-time barrier last time.”

    “Actually…” Pidge says, fingers flying across a keyboard. “That was more about the way he did it, than what he did.” 

    “You think…”

    “If I’ve got this right then...”

    She keeps typing for a few more moments, then sends a file.

    Inside the Sincline cockpit, a mathematical equation appears on the side of his screen.

    “Lotor!” Pidge says. “If you control your energy output, I think you could safely slide back and forth to the unlimited quintessence field.” 

    His eyes widen at the mention of the field. His facial muscles twitch with horror.

“It might be the only way to-”

    “No!” He snarls, dismissing the equation to drive his mecha after Darktron again.    “I’ll never step foot in that place again! Never!”

    He unleashes a series of powerful blows, one after the other aimed at Darktron’s head. The swings are batted away as if they’d come from a child.

    “Really, I’m not sure I can believe you’re really me from this reality.” The Lotor inside Darktron mocks. He knocks aside Sincline’s  blade and swings Darktron’s sword at the other mecha’s chest. The blade carves a deep gash in Sincline’s armor. Undeterred, Sincline drives forward to swing again.

    “I consider myself a smart man. So how can you be so stupid as to join the side of this war doomed to fail? What possessed you to make such an idiotic choice?”

    “At least I made a choice! Instead of bending to Zarkon’s will yet again!”

     The response catches the Paladin Lotor off-guard enough that Sincline nearly lands a blow on Darktron’s head. Paladin Lotor blocks the thrust by the narrowest of margins. Honerva then blasts Sincline in the chest, hurling him backwards. His ragged breaths can be heard over the comm.

    Allura watches with a pained expression, as Lotor drives Sincline into motion one more time. Her knuckles are white on the throttles. 

    “We can’t just sit here!”

    “This is Keith, do we have anyone available to assist?” Keith says over the comm.

    “A bit tied up at the moment…” Matt says with a strained voice.

    “We are much the same, I’m afraid!” Skriel reports.

    “On our way!” Coran reports, “We’re almost done mopping up this backline!”

    “They won’t get here in time…” Allura says, almost to herself. “...if Lotor falls here, we really do lose.”

    Her expression hardens. She draws in a breath. She begins to glow with a light blue hue. Her hands crackle as energy drains from her into her lion. A flicker of light races across her console. 

    Sincline, cracked armor, one sword remaining charges at Darktron again.

    “We’re about to lose this form.” Honerva reports.

    “Then let’s take care of one last thing before we do…” Zarkon says.

    Darktron raises it's sword, the blade burning with violet flame. Still, Sincline charges, sword held before him.

    “Come on...come on…” Zarkron says with anticipation as the other mecha grows closer. Darktron swings blade fall down at Sincline one last time.

    The Blue Lion’s sonar cannon fires. Assaulted by the vibration of energy, Darktron's swing is thrown off ever so slightly. It misses Sincline, blade throwing an arc of energy that destroys several galra ships in the distance. Sincline uses the opening to thrust for Darktron’s face. Zarkon throws the mecha into motion, twisting it to avoid the blade. A grazing blow slides against Darktron’s cheek. 

    Furious, Zarktron drives Darktron forward and Sincline is flung backwards by a punch to the chest. Whirling on the Blue Lion, Zarkon shouts:

    “Raimon! Spear her!” 

    Allura tries to move her lion, but what little energy it’d regained had been spent by the cannon. 

    Raimon slams his bayard into place and the harpoon gun appears on Darktron’s shoulder. He moves to fire, but something stops him. 

    He stares at the Blue Lion, as if really seeing it for the first time. An image of Allura appears in his mind. He shakes his head, as if trying to dismiss the thought.

    My father...King Alfor would always fight to the bitter end to stop men like Zarkon! 

    He shudders at the memory of the voice, putting a hand to the side of his helmet.  A series of flashes: Altean burning. Zarkon standing over Alfor. Allura’s body in space.

    You belong to Zarkon! A voice screams in his head.

He fires but at the last minute shifts the aim. The harpoon goes well off course, missing The Blue Lion entirely.

    “You missed!?” Zarkon says, incredulous. “Why you useless little-”

    “Zarkon!” Honverva suddenly says. 

    He turns, a fraction of a moment too late to see Sincline swing. It's blade tears a horizontal line across Darktron’s body.

    The outer armor shatters, breaking into shards of violet light before disappearing. Darktron’s smaller unarmored form beneath is blown backwards.

    Everyone, the paladins, the dark paladins, even Lotor who struck the blow are completely taken aback by what just happened.

    Then a manic smile crossed Sincline Lotor’s lips.   

    He starts swinging.

    The Dark Paladins are still too stunned to block Sincline���s first swing. The blades flashes, scoring a violet scar across Darktron’s chestpiece. Darktron’s sword rises just barely in time to block the second swing. Sincline follows the swing up with a punch to Darktron’s face, sending the other mecha reeling.

    The Paladins for Voltron watch with astonishment. 

    “He...he might actually do it.” Allura says, eyes glued to Sincline’s assault.

    “I’m not so sure…” Keith replies, expression uncertain.

    Darktron shrugs off a kick from Sincline and drives it's blade forward, arcing for the other mecha’s head. Sincline blocks, but is still driven backwards. Darktron tries to press its advantages but Sincline wedges one arm under the blade into Darktron’s gut and lets loose with an energy blast from it's forearm.

    Darktron is rocked backwards and Sincline manages to land a glancing blow on Darktron’s shoulder.

    “What’s wrong!?” Lotor tauts from within Sincline. “Nothing to say now!? You were so confident earlier, what happened? Not so scary once I tore that armor off you are you!?”

    Taking his sword in both hands, he hammers his blade down against Darktron’s shield, driving the other mecha back with each blow.

    In spite of this, Zarkon’s face is unpaniced.

    “Raimon,” he says, “I trust you...momentary lapse was just that?”

    The other dark paladin hesitates before replying.

    “Raimon.” Zarkon says more forcefully. “Who is your master?”

    “You, Zarkon.” He replies immediately

    “Hm. When I tell you to use the harpoon you damn-well better hit the target this time.”

    “...yes...my lord.”

    “Now…”

    Sincline’s assault on Darktron’s shield has not lessened. In fact it's only increased, attacks growing in speed and ferocity. His unhinged laughter can be heard over the comms. Each blow drives the shield and Darktron back.

     And so he’s somewhat caught off-guard when Darktron drops the shield entirely. The mecha twists to the side, Sincline’s blade narrowly missing it's head. Darktron drives a fist into Sincline’s chest as it goes past. Sincline reeling, Darktron moves in, thrusts it's sword for Sincline’s head. He deflects and moves to retreat back and gain some breathing room.

     “Raimon!”

    The harpoon gun appears on Darktron’s shoulder and fires. It's harpoon sticks into Sincline’s chest and reels him in. He throws a haphazard swing as he’s drawn close but Darktron’s own blade knocks it aside. The two mechas smash together, spinning through space.

    “I think you’ve miscalculated Zarkron!” Sincline Lotor spits. “From this distance, I can’t miss!”

    With that declaration energy begins to build in Sincline’s chest.

    “I have made…” 

Darktron’s green arm reaches out to the side as Honerva slams her bayard into place.

    “...no miscalculation.”

    A dagger with a blade as dark as space itself appears in Darktron’s hand. It's driven point-first into Sincline’s gut.

    “You’ll have to do more than that to bring down my…”

    The energy gathering around Sincline’s chest fades. A new glow appears. Where the dagger stabs into the mecha’s armor, violet quintessence bleeds out, all sucked up by the blade.

    Alarms pop up all over the screens in Sincline’s cockpit. Lotor’s eyes widen with panic.

    “What did you think we based the robeasts spears on?” Honerva states.

    Sincline struggles to break free of the fatal embrace, driving a fist over and over into Darktron’s face. It fails to disengage the two. Each blow from Sincline lands a bit weaker than the last one.

    The Paladins watch the life bleed away for Sincline.

    It is then that the White Lion rockets towards the scene.

    “Paladins!” Coran says. “We’re here to assist!” 

    “Coran! The White Lion!”

    “Yes Princess! It worked! Now let’s see what we can do about those drained lions!”   

     “No wait, do not endanger yourselves!” 

    “With respect Princess, it's time for us to do our part in this fight.”   

    She hesitates. “...very well.”

    “Now then...initiate energy transfer!” 

    The White Lion opens its mouth and five tendrils of white energy shoot out to embrace the Lions of Voltron. 

    “Hold tight, Paladins. This might take a tick.”

They continue to watch the battle before them.

Darktron’s jets fire, pushing both mechas through space. Lotor watches Sincline’s energy-levels dwindle. They speed towards an asteroid behind Sincline. Making one last struggle, Sincline manages to pull his sword between the two of them and slice the tether holding them together. Then he kicks Darktron back, finally breaking the dagger’s vampiric connection. 

    Sincline hits the asteroid in a crouch, surface cracking underfoot. A quick consultation of energy-levels shows Lotor just how truly bad a shape he is in. Darktron hovers just above.

    “One last chance.” He says, gritting his teeth, brandishing his mecha’s sword. 

    Letting out a battle-cry, Lotor drives Sincline into motion, kicking off the asteroid to swing his sword with all the power he has left. The blade is a blur, almost too fast to be seen.

    Darktron is faster.

    It catches Sincline by the sword-arm mid-swing. 

     Darktron smashes Sincline back down into the asteroid, shattering its surface. Sincline tries to swing a punch with it's free-arm, but Darktron slams a foot down on that arm as well. 

    “It seems the Zarkon of this reality never quite managed your discipline properly. Allow me to rectify his mistake.”

    Darktron drives the blade down through Sincline’s shoulder. Zarktron slams his bayard into place.

    The Sword erupts into violet flames. The join shatters into molten bits, arm breaking free of the body.

    Lotor screams in pain as if he’d just lost his own arm. Still, he struggles to break free, Sincline writhing under Darktron’s foot.

    Darktron raises its other foot and slams it down into Sincline’s head.

    “You…” 

The foot slams down again, driving Sincline deeper into the asteroid.

    “...are…”   

    Again. Paladin Lotor winces. Honerva’s face is like a stone.

    “...NOTHING!”

 At the third hit, Sincline no longer struggles.

    Darktron raises its sword.

    “If you see your father wherever you’re going, tell him I’m going to take good care of this universe he left behind.”

    “Go to hell.” Lotor spits out, barely conscious.

    “I think you’ll be getting there first.”

    Darktron lets the sword drop.

    A blast of blue energy slams into Darktron hurling it off the asteroid. It takes only a moment for the Dark Paladins to right Darktron and turn to see who deprived them of the kill.

    Voltron, reformed, hovers across from then, Castle of Lions just behind. 

    Zarkon sneers. “Is everyone in this reality really so keen on being the first one to die!? Fine. Can we actually finish what we started this time?”

    “Sounds good to me.” Keith replies, eyes narrowing.

    Both mechas prepare to fly at each other.

    “Lord Zarkon!” Luca’s voice suddenly breaks out over the comm.

    “What is it!?” Zarkon demands.

    “The Array is ready!” 

    For a moment, all is still.

    The paladins of both Voltrons stare at each other, then at the distant Array, beginning to crackle with energy.

    Voltron and Darktron booster wings both materialize and erupt with fiery energy  as they race towards the Array.

    ***

    Admiral Sanda crawls from the wreckage of her broken fighter, atop an enemy galra cruiser. Her magnetic boots fasten her to the surface of the galra cruiser. In her hands is a Garrison-issue Las-gun. She’s making for the command tower. Long before she can make it a hatch opens and a galra sentinel climbs out. Sanda puts a hole in the first one’s head. It's replaced by another a moment later, gun blasting. She swears and takes cover behind a groove in the cruiser’s armor.

    More sentries climb out. A squad of five of them approach, blasting at her cover, keeping her pinned down.

    “Dammit.” She sighs. “Always knew I was gonna die in space. Couldn’t have been on a beach, could it? This is what I get for not taking my early retirement package.”

    The only reply comes in the form of more energy-blasts raining against her cover. Sanda sighs again. She checks her gun and gets ready to pop back out from cover. The sentries grow closer, stepping past another entry hatch. It opens behind them. 

    At the same time as Sand leaps out from behind cover, the new figure pounces from the hatch. She blasts a sentinel in the chest. The figure decapitates one from behind. She shoots another in the head. The figure cuts down the final two with a pair of swift delicate cuts. 

    Sanda lands in a crouch, panting. She studies the figure.

    The figure is a galra, clad in traditional military armor. But he holds a mamoran blade.

    “You one of our alien spies?” Sand sniffs.

    “I am Pavok, a Blade of Marmora. And you, are fortunate to have landed on this ship. We only managed to get agents on a few of them in advance of this attack.”

    Sanda scoffs. “I’ll count my lucky stars. Seems to be plenty of them around here.” She gestures to the cluster around them. 

“So...what now?”

    “I can help you secure a fighter from which to escape...”

    “Or?”

    “Or, I suppose you could join me in attempting to take the bridge.”

    “How’s our odds?”

    “Poor. We will likely perish.”

    Sanda considered. “Well, I’m already a day away from retirement.”

    “Ma’am?”

    “Might as well push my luck a little further, eh?”

    The Blade smiles. “Very well.”

***

        The rings of the Array crackle with energy, filtered through the robeasts and their altean pilots. The altean’s screams are unrelenting over the comms. 

    Voltron and Darktron rocket towards those rings, past the storm of warring ships around them as two blurs of light. They clash every few moments, blades meeting as they each try to throw the other off course. Neither give an inch.

     “Why must you make this so difficult!?” Zarkon demands. “Don’t you get tired of being beaten over and over!?”

    “We’re just stubborn like that! Never learn our lesson!” Keith retorts.

They clash again, waves of energy from their blades, blasting apart any fighters unfortunate enough to be nearby. 

    “For all the good it’ll do you! I am going to remake this universe in my own image!” 

    “No, you won’t! Because we’re stopping you right here! Allura!”

    The harpoon gun appears on Voltron’s shoulder. Darktron is unable to dodge from the close range and is speared. Voltron then stops suddenly, jerking the other mecha back before swinging it into the side of an enemy galra vessel. Votlron lets loose with hand-bladers obliterating the ship around Darktron.

    Voltron bursts back into motion, leaving Darktron behind in the debris. 

    Growling, Zarktron drives Darktron into motion after them. 

    “Sendak!”

    Darktron’s cannon fires, aimed straight for Voltron’s back. Voltron manages to dodge to the side, but is still grazed by the blast, throwing it into an erratic tumble and clipping the side of an asteroid. Darktron uses the opportunity to speed up and backhand Voltron through the center of the asteroid. Darktron takes the lead. 

    Keith drives Voltron back into maximum speed. But Darktron closes in on the Array.

“Hunk are we in range of those rings?”

“Yeah?”

“Turn ‘em to scrap!”

    Hunk’s cannon appears and fires.

    “No!” Zarkon refutes, pulling up to summon the greater shield and reflect the blast back at Voltron. Voltron doesn’t slow or dodge, instead taking the energy along the blade of its sword. Voltron swings, but rather than block, Zarkon allows the hit to cut into Darktron’s shoulder-armor. The Dark Paladins feel the pain of Voltron’s blade bringing through their armor. But by taking this hit Darktron is able to gain an opening to summon and stab its dagger into Voltron’s side.

    Immediately Darktron begins to drain Voltron of its quintessence.

Pidge dismisses the shield and clamps down on Darktron’s green arm, trying to pry it loose. But Voltron’s fading strength does not allow it to overcome Darktron’s own growing power.

    “That is game, little ones.” Zarkron says, triumphantly.

    Pidge doesn’t give up on trying to pry the other arm away. The other Paladins throw all their strength into disentangling the other mecha.

    “I’ve run the calculations.” Honerva says with a sigh. “You’re out of option.”

    Straining, Pidge cracks a pained smile. “I think you forgot to account for one irregular variable.”

    “Such as?”

    Pidge’s bayard port opens. “Us!” 

    She releases Darktron’s arm and slams her bayard into place. Voltron’s dagger appears in its hand, stabbing into Darktron’s side.

    The two mechas hang there in the space in front of the array, draining and recharging on each other in an unending loop. 

    “Think you said something about that being game!?” Keith taunts.

    Zarkon doesn’t reply at first, straining to pry away from the Voltron. It is just as futile as it was for Voltorn before. 

    But something catches his eye. He grins with malice. 

    “...and it is.”

    Luca’s robeast slams into the side of Voltron, tearing it off Darktron. Voltron knocks the robeats aside, but a new one behind slices Voltron’s back, throwing it into the strike of yet a third robeast.

    “We have them my Lords!” Luca declares as all three unleash blasts on Voltron.

    “...excellent.”

    Zarkron lets out a satisfied sigh, then turns to the Array, unimpeded. 

***

    From across the starfield, inside the battered and broken Sincline, Lotor rouses. He spits glowing purple blood from his mouth and sits up. Even that simple action causes him to grimace.

    He hits a few keys on his console and the viewport magnifies, showing Darktron and Voltron’s struggle. And he sees Voltron knocked back and forth by the robeasts. Watches as Darktron flies up to the Array and stretches out a hand towards the innermost rings. Energy crackles, ready to drain into Darktron unlimited power.

    He tries to force Sincline to rise. The mecha lets out a shudder of grinding metal and manages to get halfway up from rising before falling back down to the asteroid. 

    Lotor lies back in his seat, looking totally and completely drained.

    “So that’s it then…” 

    He closes his eyes in apparent acceptance. 

“...Zarkon wins...”

His brow twitches. He grits his teeth.

 Then suddenly, he sits back up, fingers flying across his console. He brings up Pidge’s calculations from earlier. He keys in the algorithm but stops before typing in the last number.

    He hesitates, then looks back across the starfield at Darktron about to receive the payload of the rings.

    Then drawing in a shuddering breath and wincing in anticipation of pain, Lotor keys in the final digit. 

    Sincline vanishes in a flash of light.

***

    The crackling energy throughout the rings swell. 

    “Yes…” Zarkon says with glee. “...the field is opening.”

    The energy traces down one ring after the other, finally it comes to the last one. A breach in the space above the ring opens, blinding light bleeding out. This flash of pure energy can be seen throughout the entire star cluster, dwarfing even that of the stars themselves.

    “Finally! Give it all to me! Unlimited-”

    Something flies through the breach. Trailing burning energy behind it, Sincline, blazing with quintessence flies down the middle of the ring and swings its one remaining fist into Darktron.

    Force of the blow, supercharged with quintessence, flings the other mecha halfway across the star cluster. The collective forces of both sides seem to pause in their relentless battle, universally gaping at the display. 

    And then, the Array unleashes its payload. It has only one place to go.

    Into Sincline. A storm of pure quintessence funnels into the mecha. 

    “...yes!” He says, laughing madly. “This absolutely agonizing ecstasy!”

    The fractures in its armor armor seal up. It gains a new arm, materialized out of raw energy.

“This wonderful euphoric pain! Just as magnificent and terrible as I remember! No...no that’s not right. More concentrated than before! It magnified! Such blissful torment!”

    The Paladins of Voltron watch with horrified awe. 

    “We’ve got to do something!” Lance says.

    “Agreed.” Keith says. “We don’t know what he plans to do with that power, so we’ve got to pull him out of there asap!”   

    Voltron moves towards Sincline. Before they can even get within arms reach a wave of energy releases from Sincline, blasting Voltron backwards.

    “Stay back! This power is mine!” 

    His face is contorted into anger for a moment, but quickly changes back to awe as he stares off at something seen only to him.

    “With this power I could do...anything.”

    Sincline glows brighter, more quintessence funneling in.

    “I could purge the galaxy of Zarkon’s influence. Undo every dark design he ever made. Change worlds for the better. Change every world for the better...”

    “Allura can you pull him out of there with the harpoon!?” Keith asks. 

    She stares at Sincline, glowing ever brighter. 

    “Allura?”

    She closes her eyes and sighs. 

    “Let me talk to him.”

    “But-”

    “-Keith. Do you trust me?”

    “...of course I do.” 

    “Then let me talk to him.”

    Keith looks like he wants to argue. He studies the other mecha and chews on his lip. Finally he sits back and nods. “...alright.”

    “Thank you.” She smiles gratefully, then opens a private comm channel. 

“...Lotor.”

    “I could fix it all...it's so simple…”

    “Lotor.” She says, more forcefully this time.

    He breaks from his reverie. “Allura...don’t you see?”

    “See what, Lotor?”

    “I could do anything. I could even bring them back.” 

    She hesitates. “You mean...the atleans you…”

    “The alteans I betrayed and murdered.” he says mournfully. But his voice quickly regains strength, taking on an almost manic tone. “I could undo it all! I could finally make it right, Allura! Maybe then...it’ll all have been worth it. Maybe then I’ll be able to sleep right. I...I could even rebuild altea itself!”

    For a moment she seems almost as taken with the idea as he is.

    “I could finally make up for-” His voice cracks. “-for all of my mistakes.”

    That breaks Allura from her musing. 

    “...no, Lotor. That isn’t right.”

    “What!? Why?” He demands.

    “Because this power is so much greater than you are. Don’t you see that this is what started you on your path to begin with? You’re still trying to gain enough power to fix everything you see wrong with the universe. But that isn’t your place Lotor. It's not up to you to decide who lives and who dies. No matter how powerful you are, you’re not a god. You’re just a man. 

    “And what’s so wrong with wanting to be more than a man!?” His voice takes on a pleading tone. “What’s wrong with just wanting things to be right? With wanting an end to all the suffering? Suffering that I had a big part in.”

“I know you’re trying to make those mistakes right now. But this isn’t the way. You don’t know what this power will do. To the things you change. To you. Look at what just a fraction of this did to Zarkon.”

“But…” his voice grows weak. “...they trusted me, Allura. They trusted me. If I don’t try to bring them back how will I ever live with myself?”

“By taking responsibility for what you did. Not trying to make it so it didn’t happen.”

His face grows somber. 

“I just...just wanted to take care of them. Just wanted to do this one thing, to finally put things right for my people.”

“I know...and part of me wants to tell you to do it. To rebuild everything our people lost. To bring back all those wrongfully killed. But a deeper, more honest part of me, the part that my father taught, knows that it would not turn out like you plan. That power, even if used for good, would corrupt you. Just let it go Lotor.” 

His face is a mask of warring emotions. “I...I’m not sure I know how. I’m not sure I even know how to do the right thing.”

“Yes you do. No matter what you’ve done, no matter what I or anyone else has said before, you aren’t Zarkon. You can still let this go.”

“He gives the slightest of nods. 

“And Lotor?”

“Yes?” 

“One more thing: The altean people aren’t your responsibility. They’re mine.”

He hesitates, then smiles. 

“...as usual, you’re right. Alright, Princess. I guess it's time for me to recognize my own responsibility...”

And then he opens the comms to everyone.

“Attention to all alteans listening!”

Allura’s eyes widen. 

“My name is Lotor. And I am not that imposter that has been using you these past months. I am the real one. I know you. Vatta, Dramor, Lagmor. Romelle, Sahan, Merv. Venjya, Astras, Leynor...and Luca.”

    Luca’s eyes widen.

    “...and so many others. I’ve known you your entire lives. I brought you together when you were exiled across the galaxy. I built you a home in a place where Zarkon would never find you. I watched you raise a statue in my image, and I did not stop you. And then I took your own from you bit by bit, in the promise of a new, greater home. I gave you hope in the darkest of times…

He takes in a shuddering breath.

“...and it was all lies.”

    The faces of alteans all across the battle grow shocked.

    “I tore them away from you to use for experiments. To get more quintessence. I told myself it was in the name of building a better home for alteans. But in truth I was draining innocent alteans of their life force...until they died. I killed dozens of them for the ‘greater good’. I betrayed and murdered those who trusted me the most. I said I cared, but In the end I used you for my own goals.” 

    He stares down at his hand, reflecting on his own words.

    “...and the imposters you serve now are no better! Those dark liars are not here for your salvation! They’re just more opportunists come along to use you, just as I used you! Look at your brothers and sisters stuck in this Array you built for them! Do you not hear their screams? Do you not feel their pain!?”

    The screams seem to grow louder. Prince Lotor, inside Darktron racing back towards the Array, looks almost as haunted as his counterpart. Inside her robeast, Luca’s hands weaken on her controls. 

“...but there is someone here, someone fighting in this very battle who has never once done anything except for the good of you. Someone who would give her own life and suffer a thousand pains to prevent even a single altean from experiencing what I put them through. It's Princess Allura, of the true Voltron. She’s struggling to help you even now, as you fight her tooth and nail. I will not tell you to fight for her. I won’t tell you to do anything any longer. I just ask that you look inside and see the truth of what I say! You know. You’ve felt it. Decide who you really want to fight for!”

He lets out a sigh and closes the comm. 

    “You’ve done the right thing, Lotor.” Allura says.

    “I...suppose I have.”

    Sincline’s glow continues to grow brighter. The alteans in the Array continue to scream.”

    “...now, how do I stop this?! It's killing them!”

    He tries to push the energy back through the rings of the Array, but it is like trying to stem the tide of the ocean with a hand. It washes over his efforts and drains back into Sincline.

    “I can’t seem to stop it!” 

    “That won't do it!” Pidge says. “The breach is open now. Even if you could stop it from flowing into you, the tear would just grow and grow until it rips reality apart!”

    “Do you have a suggestion of how to avoid that then!?”

    She runs some calculations.

    “...you need to turn it back in on itself. Make the energy work to contain the breach.”

    “You mean…”

    “You need to make a black hole. It's the only way to keep the breach from growing in size.”

    Lotor chuckles. “Then I shall make a black hole.”

With that Sincline throws both of its hands back through the Array, and unleashes the energy it's gathered back directly into the breach. At first the flow starts to spill past, but he redoubles his efforts, and soon an orb begins to grow where the rift opens to the array.

    “He’ll need a lot of mass to toss into the black hole.” Hunk points out. “Otherwise it won't be able to sustain itself and will just invert again.”

    “Attention all Coalition Forces!” Keith orders. “We need uh...mass. Anything you can get. Asteroids, debris, enemy ships. Shove it all into the orb. We need to turn it into a black hole. This is priority number-one. Now to get those alt…”

    Keith’s voice trails off as Luca and the four remaining robeasts approach. Voltron and the robeasts are both still for a tantalizing moment, light from the orb dancing across their armor. 

    “...what do we need to do to save them?” Luca finally says.

    Allura allows herself the slightest of smiles. 

    “Start pulling them off one by one! But it's going to get harder, and more dangerous as each one is pulled off. The energy draining through will get more and more concentrated. So you’ll have to pull off the last five in sync or the strain will kill them.”

    “Understood.” 

Luca makes a move past them, but hesitates.

“...you saved me. Even after I betrayed you.”

“I’d do it again.” Allura replies.

Luca ever so slightly nods to herself. She and the other robeast move past Sincline, sparing not a glance for the mecha or it's pilot. They each grab another robeats on the widest ring, and strain to pull them out. The energy crackles around them, trying to keep them within the Array. But after a time, they are able to rip several of their comrades free. A few of the screams die down. They move onto the next ones.

    Keith sighs with relief. “That’s one thing out of the way. Now-”

    Darktron smashes into Voltron at so fast a speed that it's sent hurling back through space. 

    “...you ignorant, childish, FOOLS!” Zarkon bellows. “You took what was mine! You think just because you delayed my plans that you’ve stopped me!? You will never stop me! Even if it takes me a thousand years, and I have to bleed dry a thousand realities, I will have what is mine!”

    He lets loose another blast upon Voltron. Voltron throws up it's shield blocking the blast, but a second impact drives into Voltron.

    The World Bane hovers behind, hammer outstretched.

    “Go on my lord, do what you have to.”

“Try to keep those children occupied.” Zarkon says, as Darktron plunges it's dagger into the nearest robeast. The energy begins to bleed into Darktron. “I’ve some energy to recover.”

The energy drains not just from the robeast’s core, but from the young altean boy in the cockpit as well. He starts to scream. Inside the red arm, Prince Lotor stares at the scene, disturbed. He glances at the alteans still suffering inside the Array, then over to Sincline. His gaze falls.

    “...I’m sorry.” He says quietly.

    He is not the only one who watches. Raimon does as well. And his hands grow tighter on his controls.

***

    Sanda and Pavok crouch in the corridor leading into the bridge. They trade shots with the ship’s bridge personnel. The blasted remains of the door lie on the floor in front of them. The clanking of metal boots sounds behind as a team of sentinels approaches their rear. 

    Pavok passes Sanda a grenade which she promptly tosses behind her. There’s an explosion followed by sentinel parts rattling across the floor.

    Keith’s voice comes over the comm. “Attention all Coalition Forces! We need uh...mass. Anything you can get. Asteroids, debris, enemy ships. Shove it all into the orb. We need to turn it into a Black Hole. This is priority number-one.” 

    Sanda shares a look with Pavok. “Did he just say they’re trying to make a Black Hole?”

    “He did.” Pavok confirms, throwing his blade into the chest of a bridge officer, before shooting another.

    Sanda shakes her head. “You know I still remember a time when we didn’t even know for sure that aliens even existed?”

    “Life takes you strange places.” The Blade says, dashing into the bridge.

    Sanda gives him cover-fire as he makes for the blade he threw. He wrenches it from the chest of the officer and swings it in a wide arc, dispatching the remaining officers in a single sweep of his blade. 

    Sanda steps inside, keeping her gun on the hallway she just exited. She eyes the remains of the door.

    “Wish we hadn’t had to blow that thing. We won’t be able to hold this location for long.”

    As if in agreement, the sound of more metal boots rings out from somewhere further down the corridor.

     “Then we’ll have to make our time here count.” 

Pavok goes to the controls. On the viewport at the front of the bridge, a display of the battle is shown. Darktron struggles with the robeasts, while behind, the glowing orb grows larger. Countless cruisers from both sides still blast away at each other.

    “We might be able to get one shot off and destroy or cripple another ship. That’s about the best we can hope for.” Pavok says. 

    Sanda considers. Then, a smile grows on her face.

    “...can you put us on a collision course?”

    Pavok gives a quizzical tilt of his head.

    “That ship over there looks mighty close to that big orb, there. They said they needed mass. What’s say we give them two cruisers worth of it?”

    Pavok smiles. “I’m starting to like you, human.”

    “Then I must be doing something wrong.” She replies flatly, though a tinkle of a smile still enters her eyes.

     Pavok keys in a series of commands into the control, then throws a throttle forward. The ship lurches with the sudden forward momentum. It makes for a nearby sister-cruiser, hovering not far from the orb. Sanda then shoots the console, rendering it unusable. 

    Pavok nods in approval. “Now, we really ought to get off this ship.”

***

    The commander of the enemy galra ship realizes what the approaching ship is doing far too late. The hijacked cruiser smashes into the other, driving both towards the orb. Sanda and Pavok watch it from a galra fighter, racing away from the scene.

     The two ships, upon contact with the orb, rupture, armor melting to slag. Then their internal frames begin to warp, drawing in towards the orb. Finally, they break apart into shards. Shards that are swallowed by the orb. 

    The orb then dims, not satisfied by just the solid material it consumed. It must feat upon the light itself too. It grows darker, light around it starting to distort. Yet the bright scar of the breach remains where Sincline still blasts into it. 

     Sanda whistles.

    “Hot damn. They really are making a black hole.”

    The change seems to go unnoticed by Darktron and the battling robeasts.

    “Should we provide aid?” Pavok suggests.

    “I think...we should stick to more conventional fighting. We’ve tempted fate enough for one day. Let’s let the giant robots fight the giant robots.”

***

The World Bane brings it's hammer down on Voltron a second time, smashing it to fall towards one of the nearby planets. Voltron pulls itself up before plummeting into the atmosphere, but the World Band smashes it's hammer again, trying to drive Voltron down further. Voltorn resists the blow with its shield, struggling to hold its ground.

    “We don’t have time for this!” Keith exclaims.

    “Huhuh, really? Because I do.” Ru’vak remarks. A blast erupts from it's single eye, taking Voltron off-guard. Voltron, struck in the face, falls back with it's guard slipping open. The World Bane raises it's hammer to swing once more, but before it can attack further the White Lion swoops in to let loose a mouth blast. The World Ban blocks with it's shield, energy washing over the dark metal. Before it can mount a counter-attack the Atlas and Paladin Crusher both smash into its back.

“I’m surprised. I thought after the thrashing I gave you two, you’d have the good sense to stay down.”

The two mechas are indeed battered, armor cracking or even ripped off in some places. But still they struggle.

“You’ll-” Skriel lets out a hacking cough, “H-have to do more than that to keep up down!” 

“Y-yeah we’re stubborn like that!” Matt adds. 

They do their best to restrain the larger mecha while the White Lion sprays it with energy-blasts.

“We’ve got this, go on!”   

“Thanks guys!” Keith replies

    Voltron rockets back towards where Darktron is attacking the robeasts.

    The World Bane tosses the Paladin Crusher off it's arm, then swings the Atlas in front of the White Lion’s blast, forcing it to take the blow. Then it launches forward and swings it's bladed shield for the Lion’s neck. White Lion manages to block with its jaw-blade. Barely. It is still flung back, tumbling in orbit over the planet.     

    The Paladin Crusher is the first to recover. It throws itself at the World Bane. It grapples the other mecha to try to keep it from using its powerful melee weapons. The Paladin Crusher opens it's maw to fire it's mouth-blaster while the World Bane fires it's eye-blaster at the same time. The two beams of destructive energy meet, equalizing for a moment in a torrent of glowing light. But the World Bane’s soon overcomes that of the Paladin Crusher. The blast smashes into the Crusher face, tossing it backwards. Meanwhile the Atlas tries to thrust an armblade into the Bane’s exposed back.  

    “Vinas Perth.” Ru’vak utters as his mecha swings a roundhouse kick into the Atlas sending it spinning back. “Ancient galra martial arts form.”

    Finally, the White Lion makes another dash at the enemy mecha, this time swinging an energy-wreathed claw. The World Band simply tilts it's hammer and drives the back of the haft into the White Lion’s underbelly. 

“Dalas stuk, modern galra military staff-fighting.”

    Alteans go tumbling inside the White Lion as it is thrown backwards again.

    “So undisciplined.” Ru’vak sighs.

    “Things-” Matt coughs, “Looking pretty bad, huh?”

    “Sure seems that way, oho.” Skriel says weakly.

    “Well then,” Coran says, oddly still chipper. “What say we use that secret weapon we’ve been saving.”

    “You wanna use that eh?” Matt muses.

    “If you must.” Skriel scoffs. “Though I resent having to team up with a bunch of humans and alteans in such a...uncomfortably close manner.”

    “No time for that now, it's time to get snug! Coran?”

    “Right away! Initiating combination!”

    Coran slams both hands down on the controls. The White Lion begins to split apart. Meanwhile Matt activates something on his own fixture, and the Atlas’s armor opens up in an accommodating manner. Thirdly, the Paladin Crusher splits back to four individual pieces. The White Lion wraps itself over the Atlas’ head and shoulders. The four warlord ships then each attach themselves to one of Atlas’ limbs, making them longer and thicker. Finally, everything seals together and the armor takes on a golden lustor.

    “Presenting for the first time ever: Leon Guardian!” 

    The new mecha rips a glowing lance into existence. 

    “...well now, huhuhu!” Ru’vak says, sounding excited. “Finally, and interesting development!”

    He bears his hammer in both hands. “Let us dispense with the tricks and tools and simply pit strength against strength!”

    “Fine by us!” Matt declares.

    The two mecah change at each other, Leon Guardian with his Lance, World Bane with it's hammer. But right before the two meet, The World Bane suddenly reactivates it's shield, deflecting the lance, opening the Guardian up for a sidelong blow with the hammer.

    “Vintas sen, pit-fighting, naive ones!” He bellows in victory as the rocket-powered hammer swings for the Leon Guardian’s head. But the guardian, already in motion, twists to spin a backfist into the World Bane’s face. The World Bane hammer soars over the Guardian’s head, thrown off-course by the blow. Ru’vak is stunned.

    “Altean fisticuffs, my good man!” Coran declares.

    Ru’vak tries to swing an elbow into the other mecha’s side but it's blocked and countered by a knee to the abdomen by the Guardian.

    “Garrison combat training!” Matt yells out.

    As a last ditch effort, the World Bane’s eye glows, preparing to fire.   

    “And this!...well I guess you’d just call it galran drunken brawling technique!” Skriel cries as the World Bane is grabbed by the neck and the Leon Guardian smashes it's head into the other mecha’s.    

    The armor on the World Bane’s head cracks, single eye bleeding energy.

    “Th-that…” Ru’vak stammers. “...was really quite impressive.”

    Coran, Matt and Skriel grin. “Glad you thought so!” they say in unison. “Now…”

The Leon Guardian back it's lance once more, glowing with a golden light.

    “Starlight-Lance Attack!”

    It drives the lance straight through the World-Bane’s chest. It busts out the other end, the World Bane’s core impaled on it's tip. The Guardian flicks the core off to spin out and explode in the planet’s atmosphere, while the World Bane goes limp behind.

    “You sure were tough...but you were fighting the combined power of humans, alteans and galra today.” Matt says.

    “Ohoho and most importantly, the great Skriel!”

    Coran chuckles. “Yes, one cannot forget that.” 

     “Well played…” Ru’vak says, smiling. “...very well played.”

***

        Raimon watches Darktron finish draining a robeast. He is greeted with memories of a burning altea, screams of the pain mirroring that of the altean they drain. But the image vanishes, replaced by an image of Zarkon’s glowing eyes. 

    You belong to Zarkon. Honverva’s voice says in his mind.

    Darktron casts the sapped robeast aside, and launches at the next one. They take evasive action, pulling away from the advancing mecha and firing blasts of energy. Darktron blocks the blasts on it's shield.

    “They think they can run? Alteans. Raimon, reel one in.”

    Raimon immediately summons the harpoon gun and takes aim. 

    Voltron dashes in front of them. 

“No! You’ve done enough to them!” Allura cries. “You will hurt no more of my people today!

My people...

    Raimon is confronted by a series of images. A youthful Allura. Her mother. Alfor trying to stop Zarkon. Alfor failing. Altea burning. Everything burning. Zarkon laughing. 

    She fought to the end...too much like her father…

    An image of Allura dead, in the void of space.

Honerva with a hand over his face.

    You belong to Zarkon. 

    A pulse of pain in the form of violet lighting.

    You belong to Zarkon.

    More pain.

    You belong to Zarkon. You belong to Zarkon. You belong to Zarkon!

Zarkon! Zarkon! Zarkon!

    The voice screams at him.

    ZARKON!

    Then, silence.

...if you’re Alfor, then I know there must be some part of you still fighting him!

His body stiffens.   

“Raimon!” Shouts Zarkon, the real one, not a memory. “What are you waiting for? Spear them now!”

Raimon stares out the viewport at Voltron. He reaches out towards the blue leg as if feeling something from there. Then, he looks up at the sword held in Voltron’s grip. He remembers when he held that blade. His eyes clear, as if from a fog. His hand tightens into a fist. 

“Raimon!” Zarkon yells again.

“...Alfor.”

“...what did you say?” Zarkon asks, voice as cold as the vacuum of space.

    “My name...is King Alfor.” His voice gains strength, “And I do not serve you, Zarkon!”

    All is silent for an eternal, chilling second. Allura's face goes from disbelief to tearful amazement.

    For the barest moment Zarkon seems lost for words. He shakes himself.

    “I don't have time for this.” He shoves Darktron into motion, aiming for the next robeast. Alfor throws his throttles in the opposite direction, resisting Zarkon. But the other Dark Paladins join in to overwhelm Alfor’s resistance. Voltron moves forward.

    “You’ll have to get through us!” Keith declares.

    “Will I?” 

    Darktron turns, cannon appearing, but rather than aiming at Voltron, it takes aim at Sincline, still forming the now-dark orb. Keith curses under his breath throwing Voltron into motion. It barely gets the shield up in time to take the brunt of the blast meant for Sincline. Voltorn is still sent hurling blackward by the force of the beam.

    Darkon launches itself at the next robeast, sinking the dagger in. 

    “That’s it…” Zarkon says. “...just a little more.”

    Luca swings at Darktron’s back. Lotor blocks with the sword.

    “I can’t let you do that, my lord.” She says the title with disdain.

    Prince Lotor winces. She drives forward, thrusting for Darktron’s chest. Lotor’s hesitance, along with Alfor’s sudden jerk of motion lets her land a glancing blow across Darktron’s side. It forces Darktron to release the robeast, but by that point the mecha has been largely drained.

     Luca swings again. The blow is deflected by Lotor, but at the last moment she splits her spear and plunges the additional blade into Darktron’s shoulder.

    She smiles in a self-satisfied way, waiting for the energy drain to begin. It does, but the energy does not flow into Luca’s robeast.

    “Did you really think we would design weapons that could be used against us?” Honerva says.

    Luca’s energy begins to bleed into Darktron, from her very own blade. Then Honerva plans the dagger in, draining the mecha even faster. She howls in pain, as her lifeforce begins to be extracted.

    “Stop this!” Alfor demands.

    “Never!” Zarkon snarls.

    Prince Lotor looks sick.

    “...is this what you want, Lotor?”

    The Prince looks struck to have been addressed.

    “Is this to be your legacy? The man who never raised a hand?”

    “Shut up you old fool!” Zarkron barks. “That boy will never step out of line, not for this or any other reason. Do you know why? Because unlike you he understand that I am the most powerful-”

    Lotor swings his sword into the dagger, breaking the connection. Luca stares in shock.

    “...enough.” Lotor says, eyes hardening. “We’ve done enough harm. To this reality and to the last.”

    Zarkon says nothing, fury burning so hot it seems to radiate off him. Alfor smiles widely. 

    Voltron races towards them once more. 

Zarkon tries to push Darktron into motion again, but both Prince Lotor and Alfor resist him this time.

    “...is this truly how you feel, son?” Honerva askes in a quiet voice. 

    “Yes. Do what you must.” Lotor says, sounding both exhausted and relieved.

    “I will kill you for this.” Zarkon says, matter-of-factly.

    “No you won’t.” Honerva decides. “Sendak, it's time.

    And then she and Sendak both hold back Darktron. All four limbs of Darktron splay out all in different directions, crippling the mecha’s movement.

    “What are you doing!?” Zarkon demands.

    “Choosing my son.”

    “Sendak…”

    “Is mine. Always has been. Or did you forget who gave him that arm?”

    Zarkon’s hands tremble with unmitigated fury.

    “Traitors! Every single one of you!”

    “I’ve been called worse.” Honerva says.

    “It's over, Father.” Lotor says. “We ought to split up and go our separate way. Perhaps if we’re lucky they won’t find us.”

    “Coward! I’m to be ruler of the universe! You think I would settle for hiding in the shadows!?”

    “You won’t be anything when we’re done with you!” Keith says, approaching in Voltron. He shakes his head at the display. “Even your own Paladins turned on you. Reap what you sow.”

    Lance summons the sword. “Wanna take care of ‘em?”

    “Yeah.” Keith says, narrowing his eyes.

    Voltron moves in to swing down for Darktron’s head.

    Time seems to slow for Zarkon. Everything he’s ever done, the expansion of the Galra Empire, commanding Voltron, descending into the Quantum Abyss, ripping apart his own reality to gain further power. He sees all of it blowing away in a pitiful gust of wind.

    “NO!” He bellows, voice reverberating throughout Darktron. Dark tendrils of violet energy crackle across the mechas. The tendrils wrap around the limbs of the other Dark Paladins, searing into them.

    “Wha-what is happening!?” Lotor asks.

    “His...connection to our Voltron…” Honerva says, voice strained.“...too strong...he’s subverting our own connections....” Her voice descends into a cry of pain.

    A moment before Voltron’s blade can strike Darktron, the tendrils force the Dark Paladins into motion. Five bayards slam into their slots.

    A flash of blinding violet energy engulfs the scene. Voltron swings.

    The Armored Darktron catches the blade in its hand.

    Zarkon cackles madly. Tendrils tie the other Dark Paladins to their throttles. Voltron strains to pull its sword free of Darktron’s grasp. It is a futile effort. 

    “Did you traitors really think you could turn Voltron against me!? And you children, thought you could match a fraction of my strength!? I am Emperor Zarkon! And all bows before me!” He cries, voice growing in it's mania. “A-and now that you...you took my chance at victory, I’m going to take everything from you! I will tear all of you apart! Slowly, painfully until you beg for death!”

    Darktron punches Voltron so hard it sends a shockwave rippling through space that sends the robeasts flying in every direction. Voltron rockets backwards, but  Darktron launches forward and snatches hold of the mecha again, dragging it's momentum back to a jerking halt.

    “How shall I do it!? Should I rip you apart limb by limb and crush you slowly one at a time? Or maybe…” He turns towards Sincline, “...I’ll just make you watch your reality die in front of you!”

    “No!” Keith yells, trying for all his might to drive Darktron backwards. But a blow from Darktron rattles Voltron so hard it nearly knocks all of the Paladins unconscious. Zarkon then drives Darktron into motion and they both start rocketing towards Sincline.

    “Are you ready to feel that blissfully sweet pain of the quintessence field before you watch it rip apart everything you’ve ever loved!?” Zarkon cackles to himself.

    They race forward in a blur, ready to smash into the mecha that is the only thing hiding back the raging tides of the unlimited quintessence field.

    A golden blur smashes into the side of them, knocking Darktron off-course and throwing Voltron free. Zarkon turns to see the Leon Guardian, lance outstretched. 

    “Hope we’re not interrupting.” Matt says. 

     “Is there no end to you miserable whelps!?” Zarkon rips Darktron’s sword into existence and clashes with the Leon Guardian.

    Meanwhile, Voltron shakes off it's earlier damage and makes as if to move into the fray.   

    “Wait!” Pidge says, drawing them to a halt. “If we just keep throwing ourselves at that think we’re just going to get trashed again.”

    “You got a better suggestion?” Keith asks. “Because I don’t think we’re gonna get lucky enough to wait out that armor a second time.”

    “I do, Keith. Because we now know how they get the armor: it's about power. Zarkon couldn’t form the armor again until he’d drained enough quintessence from Sincline and the robeasts.”

    “But how are we supposed to get that kind of power? The White Lion is a little occupied at the moment.”

    “...we’ll do it.”

    Luca, her two remaining robeast lieutenants, and a small handful of robeasts recovered from the Array approach.

    “We’ll give you everything we have left.”

    “We can’t let you-” Allura starts to say.

    “-Princess. This battle does not leave us with much choice.” 

    She hesitates, but sighs and nods, “...I understand. Do as you will, brave ones.”

    Luca nods to her compatriots and they thrust their spears into Voltron’s armor. Blue energy pulses from their own mechas down their spears into Voltron.

    Meanwhile, Darktron continued to clash with the Leon Guardian in brilliant displays of gold and violet light. 

    “Another fine machine of war!” Zarkon declares, knocking aside a lance thrust. He movies in for a decapitating swung, but the Guardian narrowly dodges.

    “But do you know the problem with it!?”

    He swings his sword in an overhead arc, forcing Leon Guardian to block. He swings, once, twice, three times. The golden lance cracks. The Guardian fients for a counter with the weapon, but then swings a high kick for Darktron’s face. Zarkon bats the blow aside and brings the sword down one more time. 

    “It's not VOLTRON!” 

    The lance shatters, and the resulting blast of energy flings the Leon Guardian backwards across the starfield.

    “Almost there…” Luca says, energy continuing to drain into Voltron. On robeasts falls back, spent.

    Darktron turns once more towards Voltron. A pair of robeasts break off and try to slow him. They are batted away like insects. Two more fall limp, energy spent into Voltron. Only Luca remains. Darktron surges forward.

    “Do me a favor, if you all truly wish to save my people…” Luca says. “...win.”

    Her robeast goes limp, energy spent. All five of the paladins bayard slots open.  

Darktron swings.

    The Five Paladins of Voltron slam their bayards into place. A blinding blue light shines out in the cluster. And Darktron’s blade meets it's twin.

    Voltron it it's own Armored Form, locks swords with the Armored Darktron. And while the two great mechas only paused for the barest fraction of a millisecond, it seemed an eternity for those watching. An instant, that could last forever. 

    Keith smirks. 

    “Too late, Zarkon. You’re about to experience something you never have in your entire life: A fair fight.”

     The instant ends.

    Voltron and Darktron seemed to disappear for a moment. They reappear again off to the side, blades clashing in destructive waves of energy. Vanishing and appearing again up above with another clash of swords. So quick their moment, nearly instantaneous to the onlookers. Clash, vanish. Clash, vanish. Waves of destruction, rippling out through the fabric of the reality itself. The universe watches with bated breath. The battle between the two Voltrons, a singularity of war. 

    Matt is the first forced out of the trance, when he thinks to move the Leon Guardian out of the way of one of the destructive waves of light. And with that the universe seems to remember it's still at war with itself.   

    The cluster, lit up once again with the hailstorm of energy-blasts and rains of ion beams. Throughout it all, Voltron and Darktron fight. 

     ***

    Darktron smashes it's blade against Voltron’s shield, sending the other mecha to crash down into a small planet, rupturing it's surface. Lava spews out from the cracks Voltron’s collision left. In a fraction of an instance, Voltron launches itself back up in orbit, pummeling Darktron with its reply: Three strikes in such quick succession that they may as well happen at once.

     Darktron rockets back to smash into the sister-planet of the one it tossed Voltron into. Voltron follows at a blinding rate. A moment after Darktron hits the surface Voltron crashes into it. 

    It grabs the other mecha, dragging it across the planet’s face, ripping up a massive canyon in the ground. Zarkron lets out a mighty bellow and pushes his boosters into overdrive, forcing both mechas back up. They cruise back out into space, still entangled.

    “You need to think bigger children!” Zarkon cackles, “Much bigger!”

    He drives Voltron backwards, towards the nearby sun. The Paladins try to resist, but their strength is equal.

    “He’s got gravity on his side!” Pidge notes.

     Indeed they’re close enough that the sun’s own gravity begins to draw them towards it. They fall deeper into the star’s clutches, entering it's corona, burning hydrogen surrounding them.

    Warnings go off on all screens, Paladins beginning to feel the inconceivable heat even through Voltron’s armor.

    “What’s wrong Zarkon, giving up on winning and just trying to kill us both!?” Keith taunts.

    “No, just betting you die first!” Zarkon barks in reply. 

    The Paladins throw all their power into their throttles, but they can only slow the inevitable. Armor of both mechas glow red in the heat as they sink deeper.

    “There!” Pidge indicates a swelling in the star’s surface. “A coronal mass ejection!”

    The Paladins shift gears, moving their efforts away from resisting Darktron’s push and into diverting their path. Unprepared for the sudden shift in motion, Zarkon is not able to stop them from the sudden change in direction. A burst of pure plasma blasts both mechas far out of the sun’s reach. They tumble, power of the ejection finally disentangling them.

    Voltron is the first to recover, shooting towards it's enemy.

    “Try this on for size!” Lance yells, swinging Voltron’s sword with all his might.   

    The slash catches Zarkron off-guard and sends the mecha soaring back. Voltron follows, making for another slash.

    But nanoseconds before the blow would have landed, Zarkron summons the shoulder-cannon and fires. Voltron takes the blast in full and is forced back by the wave of pure energy. It rockets back, clipping a moon, tearing a sizable chunk off it's surface. Finally Voltron smashes down to the planet the moon orbits, leaving a massive crater.

    Darktron plunges down, sword poised to impale Voltron and pin it down to the surface. Allura activates the harpoon gun and fires. Darktron straits to the side, narrowly missing the harpoon.

    “You missed!” He says with glee, the sword pulled back to land home.

    “Did I!?” Allura replies.

    Zarkron, glances behind him, too late. The moon, speared by Voltron, smashes into Darktron’s back. Voltron barely manages to jet out of the way, as Darktron is crushed between the planet and its moon. Shards of stone the size of cities fly out as the moon is pulverized against its mother planet. A cloud of dust is blown into the atmosphere. Where the moon struck, an ocean of lava bubbles up where the planet’s crust was so thoroughly sundered.

    Darktron lays in that molten sea, still for a moment. It begins to stir. 

Voltron doesn’t give it a chance. It smashes into Darktron, full force.

Both are buried deep into the planet’s mantle, but Voltron isn’t done, blasting it's booster wings to drive them further. They cut through impossibly hot liquid metal, tearing through the core itself. They pass back through the mandle, to smash out the other side of the planet. The two mechas rocket back out into orbit, dripping magma.

    There both pause for a moment. All the Paladins are panting with the exertion of the previous task. Zarkron’s breath comes labored over the comm.

    “Not...bad. But not...good enough.”

    Darktron shakes itself, spraying droplets of magma into space. 

    “This bout...has cost us both much of what we gained.”

    “H-he’s..right.” Pidge pants out in confirmation. “Running low...on power...can’t maintain this armor...too much longer.”

    “So, instead of simply waiting each other out, why don’t we finish this in a more...dramatic location?”   

    With that, Darktron rockets off towards the growing Black Hole. Voltron follows. 

***

    The Leon Guardian shoves another asteroid into the dark maw of the Black Hole. The asteroid quickly breaks up and turns to dust. The light-distorting midnight orb is developing a blazing accretion disk where matter moving too fast to get sucked within the Black Hole collects. 

    “How much more does this thing need?”

    “J-just...a...bit!” Sincline Lotor says, voice strained.

    “That was the last of the larger asteroids.” Coran points out.

    “Hmm…” Matt ponders. “Think we could get enough thrust to move a moon? No, forget that. It would take us too long to speed it up fast enough to break one out of orbit.”

    “Enemy ships?”

    “They’ve all pulled back from the breach by now. They aren’t in full retreat yet, but they might as well be.”

    “I’ve got an idea.” Skriel says, the smile on his face clear through his voice.

    He points.

    “Oooh, I like that idea.”

    The broken World Bane still hovers in orbit of a nearby planet.

    “Ohoho, Ru’vak! I sure hope you installed escape pods in that thing!”

    “Wait what are you…” Ru’vak’s voice pauses over the comm. “...oh stars.”

    “This is for all that cleaning duty you made me do back in basic training!” 

    And with that the Leon Guardian grabs the World Bane and hurls it at the Black Hole. A handful of small pods jettison out before the World Bane reaches the point of no return. It crumbles in on itself, before fracturing into smaller and smaller pieces. It begins to be ripped into atoms, from front to back, as the spaghettification effect does it's dark work. Soon there is nothing, at least nothing that can be perceived by the onlookers, as even the reflected is swallowed by the Black Hole.

    “That...should be enough for n-now!” Lotor says, still blasting with Sincline. The breach is still just barely visible, as a dim scar where what little of it's light and energy can still escape the Black Hole’s appetite. “I can hold it by myself now. Get those last alteans out of there before this thing gets too big!”

    “What about you?”

    “This mecha is still a part of the breach. I need to hold it until the very end.”

    “Oh…”

    “Get them out of there.” Lotor repeats, more forcefully this time.   

    “...alright. Hate to say it but let’s split up, gang.”

    “It was a pleasure fighting together with you all.” Coran says.

    “Until the next time we need to sully our hands by joining with our lessers!” Skriel agrees.

     The Leon Guardian splits back into the Atlas, the Paladin Crusher and the White Lion. One by one they start pulling robeast out of the Array. With each one they pull out the crackling energy of the Array tries harder to keep the robeasts in its grasp. Finally they get to the final ring and the last five robeast. 

    Coran in the White Lion turns back to the robeasts they just pulled free.

    “Are any of you in any kind of shape to help us?” Coran asks.

     After a pause, a pair of them raise shaky arms.

    “Good enough. We’ve got to pull your brothers and sisters out at the same time, or they won’t survive the strain. Matt?”

    “I’ll count us down.”

    The Atlas, Paladin Crusher, White Lion and two robeasts, each grab one of the remaining robeasts from the Array. 

    “Three...two...one...pull!”

    They pull back in opposite directions, crackling energy screaming in protest. Then, with a pop all five are released. The remaining energy, unfiltered, streams down into Sincline.

    “G-g-good…” Lotor says in a shuddering voice. “N-now get them out of h-here…”

    “You got it chief…” Matt says as they all pull back out of range of the Black Hole.

***

    Voltron chases after Darktron, right up to the glowing accretion disk of the Black Hole. There Darktron pulls to a sudden stop, spinning around to face Voltron. It's blade is held out, in a two-handed grip. Voltron skids to a stop a span away. Drawing its own sword and shield. The two stare each other down, as if trying to read the other. 

    They move at the same time. Twin blurs, swinging for each other. They clash in a storm of blades and energy. Bit by bit Voltron focing Darktron back.

    “We’re doing it!” Lance cries out triumphantly.

    “No...he’s baiting us.” Keith.  “Drawing us closer to the Black Hole. Trying to get us to make a mistake.”

As if in answer, Darktron pulls back further, and takes off, shooting down across the top of the Black Hole.

    “The gravity is incredible. If we’re not careful we’ll get sucked in!” Pidge reports.

    “That means we’re pulling back?” Lance asks.

    “...no. Let’s finish this.”

    Voltron and Darktron become twin trails of energy. To onlookers it looks almost as though the Black Hole is forming additional rings. One blue, one violet. The trails disappear just in time for new ones to tear into existence around it. Blinding flashes burst up over the Black Hole, wherever Voltron and Darktron clash. They go faster. 

    Hunk fires the cannon, in an effort to drive Darktron into the Black Hole. he dodges, light of the amazing blast quickly eaten up by the Black Hole. Zarkon tries to hook with it's harpoon, but it's deflected by the sword. They clash again, the force throwing them in opposite directions. They burst back into motion again, lest being dragged in by the gravity.

    Time seems to slow for them, yet becomes impossibly fast for the onlookers. Voltron and Darktron race around the Black hole in opposite directions, gaining speed with each rotation.

    “We’re...almost...out of energy!” Pidge says, forced back against her seat in spite of Voltron’s inertial dampeners.

     “Then...this...is it….everything into this last...swing!”

    They make one last rotation, both mechas driven faster than the speed of light by their metaphysical properties. Voltron sword begins to charge with a blinding blue light. Darktron’s shines it's equal in violet. 

    The Five Paladins of Voltron let out a battle cry in union. Zarkon roars in reply.

    The swords meet.

    Everything goes white.

    Keith blinks, disoriented. He looks down to find that he no longer sits inside his cockpit in Voltron. He stands in a sea of stars, cosmic clouds swirling. Those stars seem impossibly close, both small, yet near enough to touch. They rise above and below him, with a thin strip of darkness separating up from down. He seems to stand on nothing at all. His body has an unnatural glowing hue. 

    “...It has been a very long time since I’ve seen this place.”

    Keith whirls to find Zarkon standing beside him. The Emperor makes no move in reply. He doesn’t even look at Keith, instead staring out at the ethereal realm around them. He glows, same as Keith. 

    “...where are we?” Keith asks, cautiously.

    “A metaphysical plane of existence. It seems our battle knocked us into the realm reserved for Voltron and it's lions. I remember when Alfor first showed me this place.”

    Keith says nothing. Zarkon goes on. 

    “He insisted we all train here. Said it would strengthen our bond both with our lions and as a team. Said that once we master our skills here, we’d be unstoppable as a team inside of Voltron and out. I sometimes miss that naive optimism that I had to tortue out of him. He was right about one thing. This realm is useful.”

    Without warning Zarkon swings a backfist for Keith’s face.

    Anticipating the move, Keith dodges. He does not dodge the kick that follows it. Keith is blasted backwards to tumble across the floor of nothingness. Zarkon leaps into the air, foot poised to crush Keith’s skull on landing. Keith scrambles out of the way, barely in time for Zarkon’s foot to slam down. He leaps to his feet, drawing his bayard into existence. Zarkron summons his own.

    “This realm is honest, boy. Here your power is at its most pure. No giant machines to aid in the fighting. Here, we are men, with strength equal to our own will!”

    Zarkon swings his blade for Keith’s neck, Keith blocks, force of the blow still throwing him backwards. He slides back, nearly falling.

    “I’ll admit, you might have had the slightest chance in Voltron. But here? I’ll crush you the same as before. But this time I’ll kill you, just like that former Paladin of Black.”   

    Keith’s eyes flash with anger and he launches into a series of attacks against Zarkon. The Emperor turns away every single strike, then slams a fist into Keith’s side, tossing him across their celestial arena.

    “Without your Voltron or your lion or you friends to help you, you're nothing! You’re alone!” Zarkon bellows, charging after Keith.

    Keith meets his charge and their blades lock together. For a moment they struggle against each other. But Zarkon soon drives Keith backwards, step by step. He forces his weight down on Keith, dropping him to one knee. Zarkon grins with satisfaction. 

    Keith looks up and smiles back.

    “But that’s what you never understood, Zarkon. It’s not about what you can do alone. Voltron is about what you can do together. It's about trusting the people around you enough for them to be your arms and legs. And you’re wrong about one other thing…” He closes his eyes and begins to focus for a moment. 

    A blast of energy hits Zarkon the back, causing him to stumble. Keith uses the opportunity to force Zarkon off-balance, and swings, nearly taking his head off. Zarkon leaps back, and whirls looking for the source of the surprise attack.

    Lance stands behind, rifle held in a confident grip. Grin on his face.

    “...I'm not alone.” Keith finally says.

    “Man, Keith, do I always gotta be the one to  pull your butt out of the fire?”

    Lance starts peppering Zarkon with shots, while Keith advances on him. The Emperor is forced to shift his bayard into it's shield mode to block Lance’s shots, while dodging and batting away Keith’s attacks with his freehand. Keith scores a cut under Zarkon’s shoulder.

    “If I can be here, that means the other Paladins can too!” Keith says, “We’ve got a connection, all of us, through Voltron!”

    Zarkon kicks Keith backwards, then shifts his bayard into a cannon to fire at Lance. He howls in pain as green electricity surges through him. Pidge has planted her bayard behind his knee. 

    “Hope that stings.” She says.

He spins, trying to backhand her, but Keith barrels into Zarkton, shoving him into a stumble. Lance lands another shot on Zarkon’s shoulder, causing him to twist and fall to one knee.

     The three paladins advance on him. Zarkon shifts his bayard into it's bladed whip form and cracks it at them. He grazes Lance, misses Pidge, and Keith blocks with his blade. He cracks it again, tangling it around Keith’s sword.

    “You think a couple extra bodies will save you!? I’m Zarkon! Three children are nothing to me!” He jerks on the whip, pulling Keith to his knees.

    A blast slams into Zarkon’s back throwing him to the floor of nothingness. Hunk hefts his cannon. “Count again.”

    Zarkon leaps to his feet, shifting his bayard into a cannon. He blasts Hunk, forcing him to shift into shield. The blast still knocks him off his feet. Then Zarkon shifts back to whip and flings it at Pidge, who’d been aiming her own bayard at him. Lance steps in front, knocking the whip aside with a stroke of his sword. Pdige smiles, firing her bayard’s tethered blade at Zarkon. Zarkon shifts back to sword to block and leaps at them.

     Keith and Lance meet his charge, swinging their blades against Zarkon’s. They clash in a series of quick precise blows.

    “You can call us children, or weak, or useless. But the fact is, we’re a team, Zarkon. And that makes us strong. Because we’ve got each other.”

    Keith and Lance lock Zarkon’s blade with their own and together manage to force him back a step.    

    Keith narrows his eyes. “Who do you have Zarkon?” 

    Zarkon bellows with rage and throws a knee into Lance’s gut, then grabs hold of Keith to throw him into Hunk, who was preparing to fire another blast. Both go down. Zarkon raises his blade to bring down on Lance. 

    Allura’s energy whip wraps around the blade, pulling it back before it can fall. He snarls and tries to yank her towards him, but she shifts the bayard into a spear and charges him.

    “Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Allura. They’re my arms and legs. And I’m the head. I’ve got them and they’ve got me.” Keith explains, launching himself at Zarkon again. “Who’s got you, Zarkon?”

    “It doesn’t matter!” Zarkon growls, forming his bayard into an oversized gauntlet. “I need no one!” 

    He smashes the gauntlets down, sending a shockwave that knocks the paladins off their feet. He then throws himself at Keith. 

    Keith is back on his feet just in time to block a swing of Zarkon’s sword. The two struggle against each other once more.   

     “Unlike me, no one’s coming to help you, Zarkon. You’ve got no one. You did, but you drove them all away!”

    “Shut up!” Zarkon throws a punch, but Keith twists, and the effect is negligible.

    “You turned on every person who ever cared about and trusted you. Because you thought you didn’t need them. You used them, then cast them aside. Because you thought you were stronger alone.”

    “I am stronger alone! Stronger than all of you!”

Zarkon lets out a roar and by force of will shoves Keith back. He raises his blade to deliver a killing blow.

“...no, Zarkon. You aren’t.”

Lance slips to the side, slicing Zarkon’s arm. Zarkon’s attack goes wild, missing Keith. He tries to whirl on Lance, but Pidge’s tethered blade wraps around his other arm and pulls him off balance. Hunk leaps forward, swinging his hammer for Zarkon’s head. Zarkon managed to divert the blow to his shoulder, one leg going out under him. Allura knocks out the other leg with her spear. Zarkon, on his knees, faces Lance, Pidge, Hunk and Allura lunging for him. In an explosive burst of willpower, he manages to swing his sword in a powerful wide arc, that forces all four of them backwards. But their efforts provided all the opening Keith needs.

    He slips under the swing, and thrusts forward with his bayard. He buries the blade in Zarkon’s chest. 

Zarkon lets out a surprised gasp.

    “There’s one other person I haven’t mentioned yet. Someone who was always there for me,” Keith says, twisting the blade. “The man you killed. His name was Shiro. And this bayard belonged to him!”

    With that Keith rips the bayard free. Zarkon screams.

    Everything goes white again.

    Darktron’s blade shatters. Voltron’s sword carries through, cutting through the armor, to the mecha below, and further.

    Darktron’s armor shatters, and the mecha itself breaks, splintering into five lions, all shooting in different directions from the explosiveness of the separation. Black flies backwards, towards the Black hole, with a terrible rent gut that bleeds violet quintessence.

    “I...lost!?” Zarkon chokes on the word, violet blood flying from his mouth. Zarkon clutches his chest, the pain of the invisible wound searing him. “N-not possible! I-I-I c...can’t...l…”The words die on his lips.

    The Black Hole seems to surge, growing ever so slightly larger. The Black Lion descends towards it's dark embrace.   

    “N-NO!” Zarkon yells in defiance, forcing his lion to fight against the pull. He only slows the inevitable. “I do not die here! It doesn’t end here for Emperor Zarkon!”   

    With a surge of all the strength he has left, Zarkon summons the wings of his lion. 

    Before he can activate them, Alfor’s lion smashes into his, driving them both downward towards the void below.

    “NO! Alfor you fool! You’ll kill us both!”

    “I know.” Alfor replies, striking a weak smile.    

Allura, watching the two descend cries out. 

    “Father!”

Voltron begins to move forward but shudders, lurching awkwardly.

“It's too much!” Keith says. “If we get any closer we won't be able to get out!”

Alfor gazes over at Voltron, then closes his eyes and his body begins to take on a blue glow.

“No!” Allura yells, summoning the harpoon gun. “I have to-”

She blinks. When her eyes open she is standing in a field of juniberry flowers. On altea. She looks around, amazed. Alfor stands across from her, smiling down at the flowers.

    “F-father...what is this?”

    “Just a vision, I’m afraid. Altea as I remember it.” He studies the flowers for a moment before looking up at her. 

    “But you aren’t as I remember…you’ve grown. As beautiful as I remember but...stronger.”

    She smiles, but it is pained.

    “Father please, let me help you. I’ve only just gotten you back. I don’t…” her voice cracks. “I don’t know if I can lose you one more time.”

    “I know it's cruel. But at the same time, I am unbelievably grateful to have seen the woman you’ve grown into. I only wish your mother could see you…”

    “Please!” She begs. “It doesn’t have to end like this. We could still-”

    “Allura.” He says softly. “Don’t risk yourself and Voltron to try and save me. I had my time in the universe. Now I just have one thing left to you: Make sure Zarkon doesn’t hurt anyone ever again.” 

He grins.

    “You on the other hand, have quite a lot to do.”

    She stares at her feet. “The alteans...I don’t know if I can lead them without you. I’ve been so lost. I don’t know if I can be as good a ruler as you were.”

    “Then don’t.”

    She raises her eyes, surprised.

    “Be better. I made countless mistakes. Learn from them and be better. I know you’ll be a great queen.”

    She hesitates, but then straightens her back and nods firmly. Her eyes begin to well up. 

    He smiles, reaching up to touch her face. She smiles back, well and truly this time. Then she grabs him in an embrace. The two of them stay like that for an eternal moment. Finally, they separate and Alfor stands back, getting one last look at his daughter.

    “Well, it's time I finally joined your mother.”

    She swallows hard, but nods. “I love you, papa.”

    “And I love you, my little juniberry…”

    The vision fades, and Allura is once again in her lion. She stares down at the quickly vanishing lions of her father and Zarkon. Tears stream down her face.

    Voltron lets out a tremor. The two lions disappear.

    “Allura? Keith says, voice strained. “Either take the shot or…”

    She shoots one last look at where her father’s lion used to be and dismisses the harpoon gun

    “...let’s go.”

    Keith nods, slowly, understanding. Then, all five paladins throw forward their throttles, and Voltron jets away from the Black Hole.

    Below, Zarkon screams in protest.

“Alfor listen to me! You’re throwing everything away! We could start over! You’ll be my right hand this time! You can be with your daughter! I-”

    “-Zarkon.” Alfor cuts him off..

    Something in his voice silences the Emperor. 

    “We’ve both lived long enough.”   

    Those simple words take what little strength Zarkon has left away from him. He slumps back back, and lets out a sigh that sounds almost relieved. His lion continues to bleed quintessence. 

    “...I should have known it would be you to finally kill me.”

    “Would you have it any other way?”

    Zarkon considers. 

    “No...old friend. No I wouldn’t.”

    Silence overtakes the two. 

Zarkon surprises Alfor by breaking it. 

    “Do you suppose...out there in the multiverse, there’s a reality where it didn’t come to all this? Where the two of us never crossed swords, and instead built a stronger universe together?”

    Alfor smiles weakly. “You know I do.”

    And Zarkon smiles too, without a trace of malice or deceit. 

“So then, in the end, I even failed in that regard. Despite everything I still couldn’t kill that optimism of yours after all.”

    Alfor laughs. “I guess not. I just...forgot it for a time.”

    The two lions tremble, cracking under the tremendous force exerted upon them. 

    Zarkon closes his eyes. “And so it ends, Alfor.”

    Alfor closes his eyes as well. “Stardust to stardust...old friend…” 

    And then the Black and Blue lions are torn apart, turned to dust before finally being sucked away by the singularity of the Black Hole.

***

    Lotor blasts the breach, the dim scar now barely visible, the energy feeding back into him, barely a trickle. Still he blasts it, feeding all the energy he can into it. As this happens, he watches a static-filled image of Voltron’s struggle with Darktron. Finally, there is the blinding flash of light, followed by Darktron’s destruction. And still he watches as the Dark Black and Blue lions disappear into darkness. 

    He smiles.

    “So they did it after all….”

The Black Hole surges, widening. The scar of the breach, overwhelmed by the darkness, finally disappears, overcome. The rings of the Array are pulled off one by one, then finally ripped apart, swallowed by hungry shadows. 

    He lets out a relieved sight. 

Sincline drops its arms, energy spent. It starts to descend deeper into the Black Hole. it's armor begins to tremble. Lotor makes no move to stop this. He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, as if about to rest.

“-Lotor!” A static-filled voice crackles over the radio.

He sits up, looking annoyed. He brings up the display. A grainy image of a Coalition fighter cruising through the Black Hole’s accretion disk. A feed of Acxa’s face pops up next to it.

“Lotor, you need to get out of there!”

He smiles slightly, but shakes his head.

“My work here is done. The breach has been turned in on itself. Zarkon is dead. The alteans know the truth. The universe is safe. This...this is how it ends for me.”

    “You idiot!”

    He's slightly taken aback by the reply.

    “You really think I’m just gonna let you die like that? After everything we’ve been through!?”

    “It's...better this way. Besides, Sincline is almost completely spent. I’m not sure if I could get out if I wanted to.”

    “So you’re just going to call it quits!? Give up? That’s how the great Lotor dies?”

    “The universe doesn’t need me anymore. Maybe it never did. This way at least, I can pay for my sins.”

    “Then pay for them by living! Dying is the easy way out!”

    He winces at that. “...maybe it is. If so...well, I guess I’m being selfish one last time. I won’t have to feel guilty about it for very long.”

    Acxa is silent for a moment. “...I have someone else here with me. If I can’t convince you...maybe she can.”

    Lotor has a confused look, when suddenly there is a flash of light inside his cockpit.

    Haggar stands in front of him.

    “Hello son.”

    He scowls. 

    “Come here to try and twist me to your schemes one final time?”

    “...no.”

    He raises a skeptical brow. She sighs.

    “I know I've been a poor parent to you. I can’t help but think that many of your mistakes would not have been made if I’d been a better mother to you. If I’d shielded you from the brunt of Zarkon’s cruelty.”

    Lotor hesitates but shakes his head. “No. My mistakes are my own.”

    After a moment she nods.

    “So...why are you here?” 

    “To give you a choice, for once. You’ve always seen me as a force to twist you and bind you to my will. But here I’ll simply give you the options and whatever you choose I will respect.”

    “Go on.”

    “I can save you. Pull you out of here, and we’ll fly away in Acxa’s ship. Ask me and I’ll do it.”

    “To what end?”

    “To whatever end you wish. I’m done with plots and plans. I just want to preserve you from this fate.”

    “And if I refuse?”

    She lets out a sigh. “Then though it will pain me beyond belief, I will respect your wish. I owe you that much.”

    “And what will you do after I perish?”

    She shakes her head. “I plan to stand here with you. I’m not going to live in a world without my son. I’ve already lost everything else that ever mattered to me.”

    He stares at her. She stares back. Sincline’s armor trembles again. 

    He finally closes his eyes. Haggar nods, taking this as a sign of his decision.

    “...alright.”

    She straightens. He looks up at her.

    “Please save me...mother.”

    Her eyes widen. Then she cracks a wide smile. She leans down and hugs him. And though hesitant and stiffly, eventually he hugs her back. They disappear in a flash. 

    Moments later, Sincline is swallowed by the Black Hole, all traces of it gone forever. 

***

    The Paladins of Voltron watch the Black Hole give one final surge before finally stabilizing, feeding now on the streams of plasma given off by the nearby stars. It hangs there, a distorted black spot on the universe, surrounded by blinding light.

    “All enemy forces have thrown up surrender codes!” Matt reports with glee.

    Keith sits back and smiles. “It's over...we won.”

    There is a cheer, not just from the other Paladins, but the whole of the Coalition. From humans, galra, alteans and countless other species. 

Keith lets out no cheer himself, content to sit there with a tired smile on his face. Eventually he shakes himself and sits up.

    “Alright everyone! There’s just a few things left to take care of…”

    Stay tuned for the finale...

[millllenniawrites]

Weird - Part 3 (Malcolm Bright x Reader)

The rush of putting out three parts of a series in three days... I missed this. 

I have a few ideas for part 4, so if you guys want to see that, comment or request in my ask box! Or if you have anything else you want to see with Malcolm. Just let me know! 

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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Requested: yes indeed! by many lovely people! @flightlessbirdiee , @animewolfgirl30 , @queen-turtle-boiii 

Pairing(s): Malcolm Bright/Whitly x Reader

Words: just over 700. it’s short and sweet

Warnings: awkwardness and swearing

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Dinner date? With Malcolm Bright? How the fuck did this happen? 

You were meeting at 7. No one on the team knew. If Dani knows, JT knows, and if JT knows, everyone knows. How do you explain that to Gil? ‘Hey. I know Malcolm is your adopted son and you took me in but just so you know we’re going out now.’ Like that is going to end well. 

You’re going somewhere casual-ish. That’s all the information you have, except the address. You get home with enough time to change out of your work clothes, and grab a cab to the address he had texted you.

Copper lights are strung across the wood panelled ceiling. The small building has three levels, with a spiral staircase in the very centre. Everything smells like warmth and gravy. 

The hostess asks, “How many will be joining us tonight?”

You run a hand through your hair, “Um... I'm not sure if my date made a reservation?” 

“Mr Whitly?” she smiles. When you nod, she motions for you to follow her, “Right this way.” 

The crowd is mixed. Families, older couples, a few very overdressed businessmen sit at the bar on the far side. 

Malcolm stands when we sees you, nearly toppling the table in the process. His arm is out of the sling, his long sweater rolled up to the elbow to account for the cast encircling his forearm and wrist. 

As good as that man looks in a suit, he’s still a dreamboat dressed down. 

“Hey.” his voice is soft. 

You smile, “Hi.” and settle into your chair. 

"How was your day?” 

The evening passes in a blur. Things with him are so comfortable. Like this isn’t a first date. Both your hands shake and he is clumsy in his cast. You playfully steal a carrot off his plate. Malcolm spills drop of wine on the brown table cloth. Your stomach aches from the good food and laughter. 

As you finish your last bites of dessert, you say, “That was so good. Oh my actual god.” 

“My mother loves this place. It was going to go under a few years ago, so she’s paid their rent for the next 30 years or something crazy. They don’t usually take reservations, but...” he looks around, and you see what almost looks to be pride on his face. 

“Well, I'm happy you brought me here.” you smile, “Tonight was really great.” 

“I’m glad.” 

He pays the check up front (”It’s 2019. We can split it.” you argued, only to be rebuffed with, “I invited you out. I get to treat.”) and you step out into the cold night air. 

You hop a cab and Malcolm gives the driver your address. You raises an eyebrow, and he explains, “You’re closer. I can walk from yours.” 

You both settle into the back. Malcolm reaches across the middle seat, holding his hand out for you to grab. It shakes slightly. 

Taking it, you squeeze his hand twice. He grazes his thumb across the back of your hand, sending shivers down your spine. 

The ride isn’t long enough. 

You could sit here for hours, listening to the radio turned way down low, holding hands with this incredibly awkward, handsome, lovely man. 

Malcolm pays the cabbie and helps you out of the car. “You can come up and we can watch a movie, if you want?” You suggest. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, to which you respond, “No funny business. I just... I don’t want to be done seeing you.” 

“I should be getting home.” 

You smile, “Next time.” 

His face lights up, “Next time? I’m getting a next time?” he hugs you tightly with his good arm, whispering, “Yay.” into your hair. 

“The whole ‘waiting three days to call’ seems overrated.” 

He leans back, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath is warm on your face, “Very overrated. Can I see you tomorrow? Movie night? Maybe not tomorrow. That’s too soon. The day after tomorrow?” he rambles. 

“Sure. The day after tomorrow.” 

He kisses you, his lips gently but his hands holding you tight, as if you might slip through his fingers. “I like you. A lot.” 

You kiss him again, “I like you too.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. At work. Where we will have to keep this a secret.” He grins, “Should be fun.” He lets you go, and you start up the steps to your building. 

“Goodnight, Malcolm.” you call as he begins his journey down the street. 

“Goodnight!” he calls over his shoulder, almost skipping down the sidewalk. 

[kim-seungmine]

i feel you

title: i feel you

characters: (fem) reader x kim seungmin of stray kids

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: none, except that this doesn’t really have a plot... just seungmin being the perfect boyfriend,

word count: 1950 words

a/n: ohmygod i love this boy so much :(

--

“Happy graduation Y/N!”

The moment you exit the hall, your friends shower you with hugs, kisses and bouquets of flowers. Your best friend Yeji hands you a scrapbook she personally made while pouting. “I can’t believe we couldn’t graduate together,” she says. You turn to your boyfriend Seungmin who’s busy setting his camera. “You had to extend a semester because of your internship, it’s no problem!” you console her. “And Seungmin ended up graduating faster than any of us anyways.”

“I never promised to graduate with any of you,” Seungmin responds, his face doesn’t change a bit as he motions at Yeji to stand closer to you. “What kind of useless promise was that?” he continues, a satisfied smile on his face when he manages to snap a perfect photo.

Yeji rolls her eyes at his statement, striking another pose as Seungmin lifts his camera again. “Break up with him already,” she suggests with a light tone. Both you and Seungmin are well aware that Yeji is joking, but there are times when she’s serious.

You and Seungmin have been dating since the end of high school, and when your friends in university first found out that the two of you are dating, they were all shocked.

“I mean, you didn’t even bring any gift!” Yeji protests. “Y/N bought you a whole new lens for your camera last year. It’s not fair!”

Contrary to his sweet, dandy boy image, Seungmin isn’t the typical fluffy boyfriend who gives you flowers on every date or surprises you with a fancy dinner on your anniversary. He seems almost ignorant, but you always convince your friends that you won’t trade him for anybody else.

“I have a gift, I just didn’t bring it here,” Seungmin retorts calmly, walking towards you before shoving his camera to Yeji. “Don’t ruin the focus like you did last time,” he tells her. Glancing up at him, you feel him blush when he feels your eyes are on him. “You have a graduation gift for me?” you ask.

Seungmin drops a quick kiss on your temple that Yeji fails to capture on camera. “Nonono wait! I still haven’t finished adjusting this!” she yells, now frantically pressing the buttons so she won’t miss another rare display of affection.

“I always give you presents,” he answers. You nod, he’s not wrong. Seungmin remembers everything, from your birthday to your parents’ wedding anniversary. He never fails to call your parents to wish them happiness—even if you don’t think it’s important.

“There you go!” Yeji exclaims, returning the camera to its owner. Seungmin checks the results, mumbling under his breath when he realizes that your face is a bit blurred in one of the photos. “We have enough photos,” you cut him off before he can ask Yeji to retake it. Arguments between your boyfriend and your best friend are always entertaining, but you want to celebrate today in peace.

Yeji hugs you one more time. “Okay I’ll let you two have fun now.” She gives Seungmin a teasing glance. “I wonder what he has for you. That was the first time you told me you have presents for Y/N.”

“Will you leave us alone, please?” The boy ruffles Yeji’s hair playfully—you’ve noticed that it’s his way to say “Sorry for bullying you”—before taking some of the bouquets you’re holding. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” you ask.

Seungmin smiles, reminding you of the shy 20 year-old Seungmin you were so whipped for. You can’t believe it’s been four years since you started dating, and everyday you’re still thankful for having him with you.

“Home,” he simply says, interlocking his hand with yours before starting to run towards his car. He opens the passenger door for you, something he rarely does because both of you don’t like it when people open car doors for you. “It’s a freaking easy job!” you deadpanned one time. “And part of basic manners during some circumstances. Movies make this thing overrated!”

Seungmin turns on the engine, humming to himself as you leave the parking lot. “When are your parents coming?” he asks.

“Tomorrow morning,” you grimace. “I can’t believe my brother forgot to buy tickets.”

Your boyfriend nods. “Let’s have lunch with them tomorrow.”

“What is it? You’re making me nervous.”

Seungmin takes a glance at you, his smile turns mischievous now and you figure there’s no use trying to extort information from him. “I’m craving for tteokbokki. Do you want to go later?” you blurt out. Seungmin groans, making a U-turn as you place your hand on top of his.

“Pretty please?” You bat your eyelashes at him although you know you don’t need to. “I graduated today.”

“Do you know how many stalls in Korea that sell tteokbokki? Do we really have to go all the way to Sinchon?”

“But you love it too! You’re picky when it comes to tteokbokki, remember?”

Seungmin sighs, turning to you to pat your head and that’s all you need to know that he will comply to your wishes. He always does, one way or another.

“We’re here!” he announces. You glance around, realizing that this is neither your or Seungmin’s neighborhood, but Yeji’s.  “Did you move out from your old place? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Seungmin pretends not to hear you and takes your stuff out of the car. His hand finds yours again as soon as you climb out the passenger seat, still not saying a word. “Are we going to Yeji’s?” you try again, but your guess turns out to be wrong when he pressed number 9 in the elevator.

Your curiosity only escalates when Seungmin stops in front of his unit. He enters the password—today’s date, which you find weird—and pushes the door open. It doesn’t look too different compared to his old place, but this one is definitely bigger.

“Nice!” you comment, dropping all of your things on the sofa. “The window is big, I like it!”

Seungmin chuckles. “I know you do. Come here.”

He leads you to one of the two rooms and opens it. A bed and a bedside table are already inside, but what grabs your attention is the small jar containing seashells and beach sand on the table. You squeal, feeling excited just by the mere thought of examining the seashells one by one. Seungmin is the only one who understands your undying obsession with seashells.

You quickly take the jar, hugging it close to your chest. “This is my gift, right?”

“That, and the whole room—if you want.”

Seungmin panics when he sees your smile falter. You take your relationship with Seungmin seriously, and you know he does too, but this is something he never talked about before. Kim Seungmin asks you to live with him, and the whole idea of it makes your knees weak.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s completely fine if you don’t want to. It’s just an offer, okay?”

“No, it’s not that,” you answer, putting the jar back to its place before circling your arms around his torso. Seungmin returns your hug immediately, almost too fast and too tight, but you’re not complaining. He’s always so warm, so welcoming, so comforting and seeing him first thing in the morning is something you’ve been dreaming of for a while.  

He caresses your hair as you rub circles on his back, trying to convince him that you’re not turning him down. “I’m not trying to force you,” he mutters, his voice laced with insecurity and you tighten your arms around him. “I recently got promoted and you already got a job, so I figured maybe we can try. Hyunjin will gladly move in if you’re not ready yet so please don’t feel press—”

“Let’s live together.”

Seungmin pulls away, scanning your eyes to find any hint of hesitation. He looks adorable like this—shy, relieved and confused all at once—and it makes your heart filled with so much love. To others, he may seem like he’s taking you for granted, but you know he isn’t.

“Really?” He flashes you that cute boyish smile again and you nod, laughing when he lifts you off the ground and spins you around. “Do you like it? I chose this place because it’s close to where you work and has big windows. Plus you can have sleepovers with Yeji.”

“It’s perfect!” you assure him. “I said I’ll move in with you, not marry you. Why are you this happy?”

“You’re not going to marry me?”

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Not now, dummy. You haven’t even started working. But when I ask, you’re going to say yes, right?”

Seungmin cups your face gently, caressing you cheek with his finger. He moves his hands to your head when you’re about to nod, startling you. “What?”

He licks his lips as he tries to form the right words. “Don’t answer that yet,” he says. “When I ask you later, if you still want to be with me, you can say yes.”

Seungmin keeps his gaze you the way he always does whenever he says something serious. He means what he says and you’ll be lying if you say that it doesn’t make your heart flutter. “Thank you,” you mouth. “I’m happy you asked me to move in.”

“You really thought I would only give you a jar full of seashells? Ouch Y/N, I’m hurt.” He clutches his chest, pretending to be offended.

You break free from his hug to sit on the bed before lying down. You open your arms and he slips into the bed right away, sighing in contentment when you snuggle closer to him. He places his head on your shoulder, mumbling, “I can live like this forever.” Yeji will never believe this, but Kim Seungmin can be really clingy and when that happens, you won’t get anything done for the whole day.

“Even if the jar was your only gift for me, I’d still feel beyond grateful,” you tell him.

“Why?”

“First of all, that jar looks familiar,” you say while threading your hand through his soft hair. “I saw that in that little shop we visited a few months ago. You shouldn’t have bought it!” You smack his head playfully. “It’s expensive, that’s why I didn’t buy it.”

“Secondly, all of the seashells are in my favorite colors. I didn’t know how you did that.”

Seungmin shifts so he could look at you before planting a peck on your lips. “By begging Hyunjin, Felix, and Jisung to help me. Remember our trip to Busan?”

“Oh yeah. That 'boys-only’ trip you forbade me to join. Now everytime makes sense.”

“We stayed at Haeundae for hours, I had to bribe them with food for a month.”

“See?” You smile at him. “It’s just a graduation gift but you put so much effort into it. Why won’t I feel grateful?”

He returns your smile with a brighter one before giving you another kiss on your lips, this time it’s sweeter and longer—the kind of kiss that makes you feel really, really special. “I love you and I care about you, I hope you know that,” he whispers.

“I feel that, Seungmin. I feel you.”

Seungmin rarely says those words, but you could care less about that. He may not be a loud lover; he loves you in ways that not many people can see. He’s always there when you need him, on days when you want to eat tteokbokki at Sinchon and even on your darkest days when you feel that nothing in your life will ever go right.

For you, that’s all that matters.

--

P.S. Tteokbokki at Sinchon (I forgot near which subway exit IM SORRY) is legendary guys, believe me. 

[kumkaniudaku]

Ladies Night

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: SMUT, Language

Light chatter harmonized with the sounds of glasses and silverware clinking in the quaint West Hollywood restaurant chosen as the month’s “girl’s night” location. Around the round table situated in the back of the establishment, you laughed a full belly laugh with your girls at Tanisha’s long-winded explanation of how she planned to get her black porn streaming service off the ground.

“Girl, don’t nobody wanna see no flip phone backshots,” Yvonne laughed before taking a bite from her salad. “All you see is Toy Story sheets and a bonnet.”

“Speak for yourself, sis. Me and Aaron enjoy the occasional amateur ebony flick.”

“Hearing about my brother-in-law’s sexual escapades with my sister will never not be gross. Pass me the wine.”

The table fell into a fit of laughter as Tiana filled her wine glass to the brim with sweet red wine, taking a long sip before dramatically repeating the motion.

“You know how Tasha can get,” Devin smile over her wine glass. “She’s right past tipsy and willing to share just about anything. Tell us, Miss CoCo, when is the last time you put those jaws to work?”

“I am not tipsy.” A small hiccup interrupted your sentence, earning four accusatory looks from the women around the table. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Maybe a little means Terrible T is on the way. You know you can’t drink!”

“Shut up, Tanisha! Tasha, answer the question. When’s the last time you gave Chadwick the ole two hand twist?”

“I can’t hear you. Lalalalalala,” Tiana sang over the conversation.

“You’re so childish, TiTi,” Taking another sip of your wine, you attempted to focus your blurred vision on Devin. “To answer your question, it was one, two, four weeks ago. Actually, Micah knocked on the bathroom door and we had to stop. Does that count?”

Assorted “oh hell no’s” rang out around the table, leaving you wide-eyed and a bit embarrassed. None of them understood the impossible nature of remaining sexually active in a house teeming with toys, annoying children’s songs about sharks, and two children that knew not, nor cared about the meaning of privacy.

There was no such thing as “mommy and daddy time” when an inquisitive six-year-old and busy 11-month-old roamed the hallways looking for trouble. After having the door nearly kicked down in the middle of the night while Chadwick positioned you over his knee to test out the new flog ended with an earlier than expected lesson on the birds and bees, you and your husband had been forced into a sexual hiatus. Chadwick had no problem waiting it out. You couldn’t say the same.

“So you tellin’ me that you and Big Dic-”

“Tanisha!”

“You and Chad ain’t done the horizontal tango in a month?!”

“Thirty-one days?”

“Four consecutive weeks?”

“Giiiiirl!”

The genuine shock etched across the faces staring back at you penetrated the wine induced haze to convey the gravity of the situation.

“Oh my God. I haven’t had sex with my husband in a month. He’s - he’s gonna leave me!”

“Aaaaand here we go,” Tiana groaned as she took the opportunity to finish off the last of the Colomé, "Estate" Malbec on the table. Catching the waiters eye, she simply lifted the bottle to gesture for another round on your tab.

Assuming her usual role as comforter, Devin rubbed circles against your back to soothe the mix of tears and uncontrolled hiccups rising from your sudden distress.

“Oh, honey, he’s not going to leave you. Christine and I don’t get to have sex for at least two weeks out of the month and we’re fine.”

“It’s not the same,” you croaked before taking a sip from your glass. “You guys are women. Women are smart and have feelings and shit. I know he wants his dick sucked. I know it!”

Your fist hit the table in a drunken rage, getting the attention of a few parties in the area.

“Oh-kay, let’s get you into a more private space,” Yvonne suggested, grabbing her purse. “C’mon, to the bathroom you go.”

“He’s probably packing his things right now. He better leave that sweater I got him for Christmas. I paid for that with his money!”

Yvonne did her best to quiet your hysterics on the way to the bathroom in an effort to save your public image. The firestorm that resulted from the Black Panther’s wife drunk and crying in Nobu would not be pretty once sobriety returned.

Once the smoke had cleared and you were reassured that Chadwick was not planning on divorcing you, you were left to rest against the bathroom sink and purse watch while Yvonne relieved herself in the stall nearby. A loud yawn left you mortified at the stale alcohol taste in your mouth. Deciding to travel light with only your wallet and phone meant no gum, and you preferred not to ask others face to face with offensive breath.

“‘Vonne, do you have some gum in your bag. My mouth tastes like despair.”

“What does that even taste like, fool?”

“Like that time you let weird Bernard from work take you to that rib shack for a date.”

An audible shudder sounded from the other side of the stall before Yvonne could respond, “Please, never bring that up again. The gum is in the left zip compartment. In the tin foil package.”

“What are you? 65?”

“How about you shut your drunk ass up and chew the gum!”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed as you rummaged through her purse. The search for gum turned into a pulling out various lipstick and gloss components to hold against your lips and decide what you would ask for later.

When the toilet flushed to remind you of your original purpose for taking a deep dive into her bag, you hastily grabbed the first package you saw and popped the bitter blue tablet into your mouth. Your quiet gag went undetected before Yvonne could round the corner to wash her hands and follow you back into the main dining area.

With the sex crisis handled, you were able to enjoy your creamy spicy snow crab with your girls and discuss more pressing issues.

“You’re telling me you didn’t cry during the last scene in Dreamgirls? I don’t believe you,” Tiana accused Tanisha across the table.

“What was so sad about it?! They were just singing, then Effie came out in that horrible ensemble. You know what, that was sad. Why they ain’t get my sis a better dress?”

“Tanisha, why are you like this,” you jokingly questioned.

“Y’all need rappers like me,” she answered, imitating Nicki Minaj’s declaration in Chun Li. “Hey, anybody have some gum? This garlic has my breath smelling like weird ass Bernard.”

“Can we please leave that in the past!”

The table fell into another fit of laughter at Yvonne’s expense and the memory of her first attempt at dating after relocating from Atlanta to Los Angeles.

“Sure, ‘Vonne, we won’t bring it up again...tonight,” you taunted, earning an exaggerated eye roll. “You don’t want any of her gum anyway, Nish. It’s bitter, chalky, and dissolves before you can even chew!”

“What are you talking about? Dentyne Ice has never given me those problems.” Pulling her hand from the depths of her bag, Yvonne waved the foil gum package to reveal contents far different from what you had ingested 20 minutes earlier.

“But...I...okay, wait.” Curious stares watched you run your hands over the front of your hair to smooth non-existent flyaways in your low bun. “If that’s the gum in your purse, what were the blue tablets?”

“Blue tablets? What are you -” Yvonne stopped herself as realization came crashing down. “T, that was not gum. Tell me you didn’t have more than one.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT WASN’T GUM?”

Yvonne rushed to quiet you down before explaining the situation. “Girl, that was,” a beat to lean closer and lower her voice. “Girl, that was Viagra.”

“What!”

“Girl, what are you doing with Viagra,” Tiana asked, raising the question that everyone wanted to ask. “Is there something you need to tell us? This is a safe space, sis.”

“First of all, everything is perfect in my bedroom.”

Tiana threw up her arms in faux surrender at Yvonne’s glare, “Okay! I’ll take your word for it. That still doesn’t explain why you’re walking around like Morpheus.”

“I pick up my Dad’s prescriptions when he and my step-mom are out of town. I swear I was just holding them for him until he came home. I must’ve forgotten to take them out of my purse.”

“Devin. Devin, look at me,” you demanded through labored breaths. “Am I going to be okay? I’m slightly intoxicated and I can feel the flames of hell all over my skin. Oh my God, there’s an itch on my back. Devin, there is an itch on my back! Help me, Devin, please!”

“Okay, calm down, Tasha. Calm down.” Devin took your face in her hands to get a better understanding of the symptoms you described. Just as she thought, you were suffering from a mild panic attack, and only marginally warmer than your normal temperature. As for the itch, she surmised that it was most likely an exaggeration. Still, she raked her fingernails across the center of your back to calm you. “You will be just fine, Tasha. Viagra comes with usually mild side effects so you may feel a headache or nausea aside from the expected arousal.”

“So, I’ll just be horny?”

“Just horny,” she assured you. “And, who knows, this could be what you need to get things moving at home. Or, you may not feel a thing. Either way, you’ll be fine.”

As you took in the information and murmurs of agreement from the group, most of your worry dissipated. The worst that could happen was a bout of nausea that you could explain away with the amount of wine you consumed during dinner. Sure, Chadwick would be upset, but it beat explaining you accidentally took a Viagra any day. The more time continued to tick away and the lights of Downtown Los Angeles faded into the tranquility of suburbia with no signs of abnormal arousal, the more you were sure that you had overrated.

A rare pothole in the neighborhood proved you wrong. The slight bump sent shockwaves through your lower half, pulling an unexpected and embarrassing moan from your throat. You were throbbing, confused, and begging for more at the same time.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Um, how much longer until we reach the destination?”

“Say about...four minutes.”

“Is there a way I can pay you extra to get me there in one?”

The driver chuckled as he turned onto your street, “No can do. This is my only stream of income right now. I just got laid off and…”

The middle-aged man’s life story faded into the background, leaving you to face the dull thump between your thighs and your nipples straining against the lace of your bra. By the time the heels of your Manolo pumps were clicking against the hardwood of your home’s foyer, you could feel the honey from your center coating inside of your thighs.

For a moment, all you could hear was your heart thumping wildly in your chest as you looked for any sign of your man. You were met with near silence and darkness in the kitchen and living room, leading you to believe that Chadwick was asleep and you would be left high and the complete opposite of dry for the night. The sound of the television in the home office down the lower level hallway gave you renewed hope that God had heard your prayers, seen your pain, and decided to end your suffering.

Removing your shoes, you tipped toed down the hallway to peek in the room, finding Chadwick sipping a beer with his feet propped on the ottoman while the Clippers game played on the projector against the wall. You let go of a relieved sigh and slowly crept into his line of vision. The blue light on his mahogany skin gave him a celestial glow to match the award-winning smile on his face.

“Look who’s home. D’you have a good time, baby? C’mere.” Chadwick opened his arms for you to join him on the couch, leaving your breath to hitch at the thought of being in such close proximity. His shirtless frame revealed a toned abdomen and sculpted chest. Cautiously, you placed your belongings on the ottoman before occupying the space on his lap. “Mmmm, I missed you. You would think I’d be able to handle a couple of hours without you in the house.”

Your nervous laughter pulled in the scent of his body wash and cologne, forcing you to stifle a needy whimper. “Well, I’m home now. How were the kids?”

“They were actually little angels. Micah helped me make tacos, Noah didn’t take off his diaper like last time, and both of them were asleep by nine. I think I’m getting the hang of this Dad thing. How were the girls?”

“You know, everyone is great. S-same ol -” Chadwick’s fingertips dragging up and down your exposed thigh put in a brief daze that you fought to snap out of.

“Co, are you okay?” Pulling away to get a look at your face, he caught a glimpse your eyes full of lust and partially covered with hooded lids. “Are you drunk?”

“Me? Drunk? Nooooooo. No, no, no, no. I’m not drunk at all.”

Your attempt at convincing your husband of your sobriety was unsuccessful, causing him to continue to press you for answers. “Yeah? If you ain’t drunk, then why you giving me the look?”

A staring contest commenced, the twinkle in his eye meeting the blank look in yours, as you cycled through various response options in your mind. You could admit to the four glasses of wine and pill or conveniently omit the latter altogether. Your therapist’s warning about half-truths still being lies picked the most inconvenient time to play on a loop in your mind, forcing you to come clean.

“Okay, so I did get drunk, but honestly what is drunk for me? You know my tolerance is low. I got a headache from all the wine and crying about you leaving me because we don’t have sex anymore so Vonne took me to the bathroom and told me to take an aspirin out of her purse except I took viagra by accident. What even is Viagra? Long story short, I’m so wet right now I might slip and fall if I stand up and I need you so bad right now! Please...help me.” Your admission came out in one breath and ended with a feeble plea for relief.

Chadwick stared back at you for a moment, confusion turning into a Cheshire smile and a light chuckle.

“You said all of that to tell me you want to make love?”

“No, you aren’t hearing me.” Pushing your body from his arms, you swung a leg over his waist to straddle his lap. His speed was no match for yours as you made quick work of cupping his face and pressing your lips onto his for a fiery kiss. His hands roamed your bottom half until he reached the hem of your dress to lift it to your waist.

Letting his bottom lip go with a whisper quiet pop, you focused your attention on his dazed expression.

“I need to fuck tonight. I want to be pounded, baby. Ruin me. Fuck. Me.”

“I think I can do that for you,” he purred, voice buzzing against your cheek as he leaned forward to nip and suck at a spot on your throat.

The feeling of his lips commanding goosebumps to prickle the skin on your arms and chest sent your mind into a fog. It was a battle between mind and body that forced you to press your palms flat against Chadwick’s chest to push your body off his lap.

“Take it off. All of it,” you commanded as you pulled the zipper down the front of your dress to reveal your lace bra and panty set. It was the first time you could remember wearing a pair of panties that didn’t cover every square inch of your ass, much less match your bra. None of that mattered as you discarded the damp item somewhere across the room.

Chadwick stood to his full height in front of you, displaying his body in all its beauty and glory.  A split second of thick sexual energy turned into an all-out race to touch and taste whatever skin was available on each other’s bodies. Chadwick settled on your lips while took a firm hold on one of your ass cheeks, kneading the supple area and groaning at the feeling. As much as you loved his sensuality, now was not the time.

Breaking the kiss, you pushed your husband back onto the couch before dropping to your knees in front of him. You were too focused on running your hands down his stomach and thighs to notice Chadwick's head fall against the back of the couch at the simple sensation of your skin on his. For weeks he’d tried his best to hide his frustration at the lack of contact, often returning to the activities of his teenage years to stay sane. When your tongue licked a long stripe from base to tip, he could’ve sworn he saw his soul pack up and walk out of the room.

You were a woman on a mission. At some point, as you used both hands to twist around his shaft in alternating directions while you sucked as much as you could fit into your mouth, you forgot he was even in the room.

Sensing he was growing weak from the intensity of your oral demonstration, you took pause to show him some attention elsewhere. Your full lips pressed against his balls to hum a made-up tune, earning hushed curses and a near painful grip on your hair.

“Look at you,” he half spoke, half moaned. “You look so pretty with Daddy’s balls in your mouth. You gon’ make me cum?”

Flickering your eyes up to meet his, you moaned a sultry “mhmm” with your lips still wrapped around him.

“Good girl. Fuck, baby, just like that.”

You stuck around for a few moments longer to lightly suck and grip until the desire to return to his dick was too overwhelming. Moments later, with his hands on either side of your head, Chadwick held you in place while he released inside your mouth.

While always game for sex, Chadwick wasn’t prepared for you to move on so quickly. He was expecting a few minutes of touching, maybe even some reciprocity on his end, but you had other plans. Taking a swipe from your slick entrance, you used your essence as lubrication to jerk his member and speed up the arousal process. It didn’t take long for Chadwick to return to his full erect length. Both of you let out loud sighs of relief and bliss as you sunk down onto his dick, taking each inch bit by bit.

Chadwick watched you in awe as you took control, switching between positions with a dancer’s grace. Your control turned him on to no end while you rode him in whatever way you saw fit, and drank in all of your facial expressions and slurred praises when he plundered you across the arm of the couch.

By the time he found himself fucking into you against the wall with distorted images from the projector danced across your bodies, he was finding it hard to give you the intensity you desired while holding your legs around his waist. Your weight mixed with his aching muscles were becoming a recipe for disaster. Still, he allowed you to bounce in his lap well past his own orgasm in hopes that round four would be the knockout round.

Your body stiffened in his arms as your cried out his name, clawing at his back and tucking your nose into the crook of his neck while hot shoots of white light clouded your vision.

“That’s it, girl, let it go,” He murmured against your skin once he felt you begin to relax. His fingertips drew soothing circles at the small of your back as you began to pepper kisses along his collarbone.

“Oh my God.” The sparks of euphoria were beginning to wane, leaving you wanting more. “I feel like I just ran a mile.”

“You should! It’s been a while since you reached that far in your bag of tricks,” A long yawn left his lips as he reached around you to steady himself on the wall so that you could have room to dismount his waist and stand on your own. When you didn’t let go, he began to worry. “Is something w-”

“More.”

Your abrupt interruption made Chadwick raise his eyebrow in confusion. “What did you say?”

“I need more. You promised, Daddy.”

Chadwick’s jaw slackened in shock as you peered up at him with pleading eyes. He’d just poured his entire being into pleasing you for as long as he could muster, and you still were asking for more. What would’ve turned him on to no end was confusing and a bit demoralizing.

“You are...a monster,” he whispered more to himself than to you.

“Oh, please don’t start the dramatics, Aaron. Just say no if you don’t want to.”

“I just gave you my best performance in months and you want more? Am I only a sex object to you?” Chadwick watched you push away from his body to gather the clothes you could find before making your way to the doorway. “Where are you going? You can’t just walk out on me after this. I deserve to be big spooned after the work I just put in!”

His childish request for cuddling was equally amusing and irritating, forcing you to choke back a smile as you turned to answer his question. “I am going to finish in the bedroom. You can either sit down here and pout or come watch me put the Rabbit to use. Either way, I’m not done. Good night.”

Initially, Chadwick felt proud of himself for making his feelings known without receiving significant pushback. It wasn’t often that he told you no, and even when he did, he would always end up relenting in one way or another. The thought of you accepting a blatant refusal to continue without so much of a pout and one-sided argument became more perplexing the longer he sat (naked) on the couch. The thought of you upstairs, sprawled across the bed while you brought yourself to climax made Chadwick’s mind race and hands roam aimlessly around his body until he was feeling a familiar stiffening below.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he slouched against the couch, fighting the urge to accept defeat and race upstairs to join you. A small moan, one he was sure he wasn’t meant to hear, sent a chill down his spine while sending his resolve out of the room. Looking down, he addressed his member. “You think you got one more in you, bro? Good. Let’s go.”

                                              _________

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[xxfuckmecalumxx]

‪9, 17, 26, 31‬ with my baby cal ok FUCK ME UP😹

9. “you’re in love with her”, 17. “Love is overrated”, 26. “It was you the whole time”, 31. “I can’t keep kissing strangers pretending they’re you”

A/N: Hi, uhhhh sorry if this sucks I wrote it while watching tv oops

Love is overrated

You haven’t seen each other in 8 months and he was nervous to talk to you. The last time Calum saw you he drunkenly admitted his feelings for you, but the next day he left for tour and neither of you said anything about it since. He was sitting on the couch sipping a beer watching you flirt with one of his friends. He barely noticed Ashton sit down next to him “dude you’re in love with her” Ashton says glancing at you.

Calum rolls his eyes taking the last swing of his beer “love is overrated and fake”

Ashton laughs “sure it is Calum” he gets up leaving Calum there to stare at you. He eventually gets up getting another beer, making his way over to you not really thinking clearly. His mind clouded by the three beers he’s had and the thoughts of your last interaction.

You smile wide at him “Calum! How are you? I’ve missed you” Calum hugs you, the scent of your favorite perfume filling his nose making him nearly go weak in the knees.

He pulls away smiling “I missed you too love, how is everything”

You smile and tell him all about your new job, how you signed up for tinder and how you finally got a new place. He ignored the tinder part not wanting to touch too much on it as it made his heart twinge. Calum told you all about tour, throwing in how much he missed you while he was gone. At some point Michael pulled him away to take shots, he happily obliged needing to take a break from talking to you for a moment. You watched them take shots giggling at how the other three boys made faces but Calum didn’t even flinch when the liquid went down his throat.

Calum was craving a smoke, he was trying to quit but his anxiety was high tonight so he gave in. Going outside to Ashton’s backyard to smoke, he heard someone come out behind him but he assumed it was someone who wanted a smoke too. But when he turned around and was met with you he immediately put his cigarette out. He knew how much you hated it and he didn’t want you to have anything against him.

You smiled watching you “you okay? I know you only do that when you’re stressed or anxious”

Calum nods walking towards you, closing the gap between you to “yeah I’m fine why?”

You laugh “well the last time you saw me you confessed your love to me, then left for 8 months on tour…I was gonna tell you I felt the same and then I heard Michael talking about how you made out with some girl in a club in Sweden, New York, Florida, and a few other places. He called you a player”

Calum sighs wanting another smoke but resisting “I was trying to forget you but y/n I can’t keep kissing strangers pretending they’re you”

You look up at him your head full of clouds, your body taking over before your mind can tell you no. You put your arms around Calum’s neck you lips crashing into his in what felt like slow motion. It took Calum a second to realize what was happening but when he did his hands fell on your waist, pulling you closer and his lips molding to yours.

You pull away from the kiss blushing, he rests his forehead on yours “Calum, I was never in love with anyone else, I didn’t even want to download tinder I was only trying to get over you. But it was you the whole time. All I wanted was you”

Before you could say another word Calum’s lips were on yours again. The party behind you turning into a blur, you two barely noticing the door to backyard opening. You hear three boys cheering and whistling, causing you to pull away laughing. Calum looks over laughing at his three best mates “still think love is overrated mate?” Ashton yells. Calum rolls his eyes laughing “fuck off”

Taglist: @boytoynamedcalum @sassy-asht0n @moonlightgodcalum @neptunight @slimthicccal @holidayhood @my-only-angelle @therainydays4

[psyhces]

modern greek myths: psyche & eros

And then conversations that sink into silences. That’s when he says, “Let’s dance.” That’s when the overrated pop songs or too-loud electro house music make the stereos quake. That’s when they become two black motion blurs against neon lights. He dances close to her, twirls her at the right time. He doesn’t dance with her. 

That’s when she notices that space again. That’s when the curiosity in her heart flares up and asks, “Is it so terrible to close the distance?” It’s such a small and tender thing she doesn’t have the heart to crush it.

( - an excerpt from morpho, a modern retelling I’m working on )

[tweedlebean]

Just gonna say it: 60fps is overrated. It's either not noticable or way too unnatural looking. It works for extremely detailed 3d shots, the kind of thing where any motion blur will obscure things, but for the vast majority of media it's just not nessicary

[lerrengwesten]

I wrote this somewhat on a whim because this past week or so the idea of acting on impulse and living with the regrets has been really hanging over me and I remembered a character it applied well to.

Warning for death.

It was a warm day in the midst of the high, hot season. A day like any other, perfectly normal. Perhaps there was a gentle sparkle amongst the bleached rocks of the seaside. I had retreated to this shore to take my mind off the stress of what had happened the previous day.

------

A passing Nlegera rattling off its mouth as they always do told another that I had killed someone years ago. That I was dangerous and they should have had me euthanized for the act. I ignored them. Fools. No Fsemacea has killed a spirit as a result of free will or carelessness, only from the things bumbling out of their designated safe travel zones into the paths of us at speed. And I myself was innocent of such offenses, though a good number of others had had such incidents.

I was silent, not even calmly dismissing the spirit, which is all I could have done, given who I was with. I saw their sleek red and green form out of the corner of my vision. The rigid curve of their trunk. The flecks of red spotting their coat. Their constant, blacked-out eyes stared into my own in disapproval as I remained silent. They began to tap out a message on their wrist.

"Your silence is suspicious. What is hidden from me?"

"Nothing, Dheroratera."

"Why are you wordless?"

"The rambling of the ignorant is not worth my attention."

"Do not disrespect the visitors."

I paused a moment, holding my tongue. In the old days I would have given them a piece of my mind. Told them their shaking and ever-callous attitude were more disrespectful than my words would ever be. But something stopped me. I still don't know quite what.

I couldn't bring myself to directly hurt them like that. You see, there's something about them that outsiders never really understand. Behind their harsh demeanor they're very vulnerable. Delicate. The day their Far Spirit got another Fsemacea they vanished without a trace for a week to rampage in the wilderness. When they came back they told me it was because they were terrified they would be replaced or surpassed by that new Fsemacea. They almost stayed out in the wilderness out of shame, spite and hopelessness and so they'd never have to see that new one's face and known they were better than them and the spirits would surely prefer them. And since that, they took every opportunity to make subtle jabs and nitpicks at that other Fsemacea just to show their superiority over him and protect their fragile ego. As time has passed I suppose I've found myself almost scared of their vulnerability. They've weaponized it, you see. You speak up against them, they'll pull the emotions card, remind you of those bad times they've been through, make you feel too bad for them to resist. They speak out against you, they'll ignore what you say and wreck you with what they declare to be the dry facts, unwilling to acknowledge any objections. And that's how they've remained in power even though there is considerable resent against them.

I exhaled.

"In any case, the claims are false. My hands are clean."

My words were brief and unsatisfying. I wanted to be honest but couldn't, and the words I'd planned swirled in my head.

"Good. And it is advisable that you be respectable as you can to compensate for faded color and jittering stride."

I froze. How dare they. But I held my tongue.

"I passed your trials. I am not worthy of denouncement."

Very subtly, I saw them glance around to ensure no creature would see what they were about to say. Their gaze turned back to me and settled on me, observing me too intently.

"When you come to a stop I watch your whole body snap aside most ungraciously. At other times, your motions are brief and sharp. I often can see your markings blur from vibration. Day by day I hear the visitors crying out for you to display grace. Such harsh actions hurt them, surely you know. You ought to. For that is what we Fsemacea are known for. Our gentleness. Our calmness. Our ability to charm nearly anyone who comes to visit. You are none of those. You are impulsive, you are rough. You fail your creator. I only let you pass because I know you once pleased all of us."

You fail our maker more. Ever-watching, you condemn the minor faults of the most loyal and gentle creatures, tearing into them with every cold stare. Perhaps you love the Dragons, but you moreso love the sense of superiority, don't you? Of feeling like the purest of all and pulling yourself ever higher by ripping apart anyone who stands in your path? I hate to feel sorry for you given how you'v even adopted your faults into defenses against blame. But I do. Because I frankly don't understand why you care so much about loyalty to the Dragons.

I wanted to say so much. I wanted to free the thoughts. But for a third time, I was silent.

"I will see what I can do, Dheroatera. I must be off, however."

They stood rock-still as I galloped away, false purpose stiffening my stride.

----

And now the sun had set and risen again and hung high in the sky. Clouds blurred its rays and cooled the land.

The things I had almost said still swirled within me as I cast another gaze towards the squared-off stones dotted along the beach. I paced slowly along the length of one of them, dragging a hand along the flat top of it, casting a casual glimpse at the dim light piercing the clouds. Waves lapped the shore. It had not been particularly sunny, but it had still been hot out, and the rain had stopped only recently, leaving the air thick and muggy with humidity and clouding my mind. I wanted to escape what I knew. I wanted to escape this present time.

Really, all I wanted was to go back in time to those golden days of yore when the two of us got along. As much as they sickened me, Fsemacea do think alike, and in the past we had had many good times. Sure other others were and still are that way as well, but there was something about Dheroratera that always stood out to me and I could never place my finger on it. Frankly, they were just another mid-sized Fsemacea damn near indistinguishable from the others besides their affinity for prancing around in the woods. Perhaps it was how unusual they had been when they first appeared, being one of the first larger creatures the Dragons made. They may have been generic, but they were that way first- did that make them the most or least generic? One can only wonder the same about the Chepoirrat, in the beginning the first of them was unique and groundbreaking, but now they are nothing but one of an interchangeable pack of near-identical beings made in their image.

And then I heard a small voice.

"Dheroratera sucks!"

A flickering orange-red spirit was fluttering circles around a rock. I came up closer to investigate.

"Dheroratera sucks!"

Another voice called out next to it.

"Dheroratera sucks! Dheroratera sucks! Dheroratera sucks!"

There were a whole group of the puffballs chanting away.

"Dheroratera sucks?"

I gave them a quizzical glance, tilting my head knowing my face could show nothing.

"Yeah, all Fsemacea suck but especially that speckled green shit-"

"All Fsemacea suck! Including you you overrated shortstack!"

I sighed. Ehtstunisa were split between hating and loving us. No in betweens.

"I may be nothing but a forgettable old Floater, but you know what? Dheroratera does suck. There you go, right from the horse's mouth, even though I'm not even a horse."

"Dheroratera sucks?"

"Hell yeah they suck."

"Guys I don't get it, I like Dheroratera."

"It's a damn joke you Nlegera dumbass."

I gently clenched a fist in agreement.

"I say this without irony. Dheroratera sucks. I used to be friends with them and they're an overbearing, controlling asshole who can't take criticism. Can't believe I actually used to enjoy interactions with that green monstrosity."

"What part of 'It's a damn joke' don't you understand? You Fsemacea sure are dense."

I swatted at my forehead in exasperation. They were going to go that way, weren't they? I never was good at understanding the spirits' strange jokes. I opened my mouth one last time as I turned away.

"I've had this conversation before. Not again. Anyways, Dheroratera sucks."

My last words reverberated as I picked up to a jog. As usual, the light gathered around me, clinging to my body as I galloped along the shore, weaving between the rocks and at times throwing in some acrobatics to amuse them and take my mind off things. Rolling myself over inthe air as I hopped over rocks, turning in sudden tight circles, the like. But the words wouldn't leave me. With each footstep I heard a voice inside chanting

"Dheroratera-sucks, Dheroratera-sucks, Dheroratera-sucks, Dheroratera-sucks."

Dear Dragons, this wasn't going to leave my head anytime soon and I was going to have to keep myself from letting it seep out in my words some day. My agitation sparked me to go faster. To put less care in my movements. Fuck what they said. I'll be awkward and snappy and shivering if I want to. Especially in mood like this. My turns grew harder, my flips faster.

"Dheroratera-sucks-Dheroratera-sucks-Dheroratera-sucks-Dheroratera-sucks."

I shook my head a bit, both wishing it would go and willing it to stay, growing further irritated and more furious in motion.

"DheroraterasucksDheroraterasucksDheroraterasucksDheroraterasucks."

And then I saw the light

And thought I felt something brush against my leg

And continued on as I had until I saw the crowds departing from me and gathering around the path whispering and gasping in horror. I came to a halt.

Several yards back, the light flickered out. I felt something sink inside me. For a long moment things stood still until the realization hit me.

I've done it.

I could have avoided it.

The echoing in my head continued quietly but I tried to block it out, feeling increasingly sickened by how its mindless rhythm had driven me to this state. I felt myself rapidly growing cold as the frenzy melted away. Time had snapped in half.

Immediately I heard mumbling about how they shouldn't have been off the designated paths and there wasn't anything I would have been able to do. It didn't matter. If I'd been calmer and not lost myself like that I wouldn't have been so fast and reckless and maybe I would have reacted in time but it didn't matter the past was past now and there was nothing I could do about it, I was gone I was lost I was tainted I was unworthy I needed to go far away and never show my face again.

I sprinted away, casting aside any of the lights that still clung to me, making my way to the last place Dheroratera would ever go so I'd never have to feel the shame I did when I looked at their eyes or even the minty green of their coat. Towards the Woodlands. Beyond the Woodlands. I had to banish myself to the most unworthy place, where the creatures the Dragons scorned ruled in brutality, fragility, and crudeness. Where I would never have to see them again and they would never have to see me.

Truthfully, I have decieved you. Dheroratera did not banish me from our fold as they have others. I did it myself in feeble attempt to escape my shame.

[dansphlevels]

But Love Is Overrated Anyways (pt 11)

Summary: Dan is an angry mutant with the ability to control the cold. He shares a tent with a man Phil, who has powers over fire but refuses to use it for evil. Dan has no such moral qualms.

Length: Chaptered Fic (ch 11 = 2k words)

Theme: Superpowers, Mutants, Dark, Dystopian

Read on AO3 / But Love Is Overrated Anyways Masterpost / All My Fics

Chapter 11: But He Lied

  "So what exactly is your power?"

  Jordan hefted the firewood, sending Dan a warning glance. "The same as Phil's."

  "Fire? But-"

  "No, I'm the same as Phil. As in, I don't talk about it, and I don't use them."

  Jordan carried the firewood back towards camp, while Dan tried to follow her. "Why don't you want to use them? Powers are what makes us special-"

  "And they're why we were targeted." She dumped the wood next to their makeshift fire pit, blowing her reddish-brown bangs off of her face. "I appreciate you trying to help out and all, but I have no desire to use my powers. Go help Troy again. Maybe today you can make some leaves change color or have a weed produce sap." The way she said it, both were less than impressive. "Leave it be." Dan reached over to help arrange the wood, but she swatted his hand away, jolting on contact. "God Dan, your gloves are freezing!" She blinked, looking a little closer. "Why are you wearing gloves?"

  "It's nothing. And I washed them in the river earlier and they're still a little cold," Dan lied.

  "Are you sure? I don't know if I've ever felt anything so-"

  Dan shook his head. "I'll leave you alone. But trust me, you'll want to figure out how to control your powers sooner or later."

  "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I already can control them?"

  Dan waved it away with one gloved hand, walking away miserably. He had to help someone practice controlling their powers.

  He wrung his hands as he walked, the black globes doing nothing in the way of warmth. Phil had borrowed them from PJ without telling him exactly what they were for.

  Dan got to the edge of the clearing and stopped. He looked around for a moment. Everyone else was performing their duties, and no one was really around. Still, he trekked a few meters into the dense foliage until he was sure no one could see him, and pulled the gloves off.

  The worst part was that at first, he hadn't realized the skin wasn't part of the fabric. The black had spread. Now, it went all the way down the first two or three centimeters of his fingers, all the way to the first knuckle. It had been only a few days since he'd discovered the frostbite. If he were human, the blackened parts would have fallen off by now. But he was not human, and he had no idea how long he had before he was minus ten fingers.

  It had spread to his toes as well. The rest of his skin was pale and translucent.

  He was so busy staring at his hands that he didn't hear the arrow being drawn back.

  A loud THUMP! right to Dan's side almost made him jump out of his skin. He processed everything in a tenth of a second: the arrow lodged in the tree beside him, the figure moving through the trees so close it was a wonder how he hadn't seen before. Another arrow was drawn back, but this time, he'd heard it.

  Instead of running back, he ran forwards, ducking behind a tree as a new arrow slammed into it, burying itself on the trunk. Dan's eyes locked on the figure, and before she could notch another arrow he grabbed her, knocking the bow out of her hands and summoning his powers, willing for her entire form to turn to a block of solid ice. It wasn't the first time a human had found their camp, and it would end the same as it always did: with the human taken care of, and their camp moved by dawn.

  It would've worked. It would've worked so well- if only Dan's powers worked.

  No ice was produced. She hit him hard in the center of Dan's stomach, knocking his breath out and drawing another arrow at the same time, swinging to plunge it into his back. But Dan had recovered quicker than she'd thought, and without a moment he was behind her, knocking the quiver off her back and wrapping his arms around her torso as if he intended to squeeze the life out of her. But he didn't have to; as soon as he made contact with her skin, she screamed bloody murder, trying to shake him off desperately and wailing from the intense burns.

  Dan may not be able to control his powers, but he definitely still had them. He could make them work for him, even if they continued to fight against him.

  Footsteps came running. The girl, about Dan's age maybe, was writhing violently, her breathing ragged as Dan's very touch began to freeze her skin over.

  He'd thought he won. Then, like he was being hit with an invisible wall, he was thrown backward, hitting a tree and crumpling to the ground. He watched through blurred vision as she rapidly tried to grab her arrows, apparently not having realized there were more of them.

  PJ burst into the treeline right as she notched an arrow, releasing it with trembling hands. It hit a tree almost a meter away, her hands so shaky it was impossible to aim correctly. But he didn't surge forwards. "Stop! Calm down, we can talk about this."

  Dan didn't think she wanted to talk much. His intestines felt like they'd been freeze dried. However, he could appreciate Phil's attempt at peace. It would get him killed, but it was a nice thing to try.

  Now that she was no longer trying to kill him, Dan was able to look at the girl for real. She was wearing a pair of green cargo pants and a gray-brown shirt, dark brown hair pulled back in a bun and dark freckles spattered across her nose and cheeks. She notched her bow again but didn't release the arrow. "Who are you?!"

  "We're travelers!" PJ lied. "We're traveling to deliver a message. Please, put the bow down-"

  She released another arrow. It dissolved into confetti before it could reach PJ, and judging from the look on his face, he wasn't surprised.

  "I told you, we're travelers." PJ waved his hand, and the arrow she'd begun to load turned to multicolored paint in her hands, staining them with the primary colors. He stepped forwards, and Dan watched as he pulled the knife from his jacket. "And we don't need any humans getting in our way."

  He leapt forwards, thrusting the knife forwards, but right as he did a purple shield of energy appeared around her. As soon as his knife made contact, it bounced back with so much force PJ almost fell backward.

  "What-"

  Dan stood. She was distracted. He grabbed a branch off the forest floor, pulling it back to swing, right as the energy shield disappeared-

  "Dan, stop!"

  He was already in the motion of swinging and was so surprised by the voice that he stumbled, dropping the branch. The girl turned to him, fists ready when Phil burst through the clearing.

  "Stop!" Jordan was right on his heels, and she immediately froze as she saw the girl. "She's a mutant!"

  "I'm human!" The girl insisted, notching another arrow that turned to cupcake sprinkles in her hand. "Agh! Stop it!"

  "Stop trying to shoot us!" PJ agreed, hands raised like he expected her to pounce. "Just listen!"

  "We're mutants!" Phil explained. His hands were raised, showing he was unarmed. "And you're a mutant too. You just showed us your power. You can make force fields."

  "You're crazy," she snarled. "And you're lying. You're a mutant? Then prove it!"

  "You don't need any more proof!" Phil protested. His voice became calmer, still urgent, but less offensive. "The arrows. PJ made then turn into- dust, or whatever that was. A human couldn't do that." He stood a little straighter. "Come on. We have a camp. You don't have to wander alone anymore."

----

  After much more convincing, Phil finally got her to accept his offer. Her name was Mandy.

  Phil offered to get her a first aid kit. "For the rashes on your arms," he offered. "What are those from? Poisonous plant?"

  "From... that guy." She nodded over to where Dan leaned against the tree, his gloves safely back over his hands. He glared right back. "He attacked me. Burned me, or something."

  "Only after she shot an arrow my way." Dan walked forwards, uncrossing his arms. "And missed, by the way. Real nice aim, miss-"

  "You burned her?" Phil's eyes got wide as he realized. "Oh! With-" he cut himself off, nodding quickly. "We have some ointment. It will make it feel better."

  "I don't need your help," she insisted. "I was doing just fine on my own."

  "Oh yeah, I'm sure." Dan raised his voice, sarcasm practically dripping off his words. "On your own, with a bow you can't even shoot with any accuracy?"

  "I'll show you how well I can shoot-"

  "Dan," Phil pleaded, giving him the look he always gave him when he was desperate. "Please. Go back to the tent? Warm up, a little, maybe?"

  "I don't need to warm up," Dan spat, still glaring at Mandy. "In fact, I'm in the mood for a little more cold. How does that sound Mandy? Tell me, would you prefer turning into an ice cube or a-"

  "Dan!" Phil begged. "Please!"

  Dan allowed his gaze to drift back to Phil. As soon as he saw his pleading expression, Dan knew he had to listen. "Fine. But if she tries to shoot me in my sleep, I can guarantee she'll have more than just a few burns to worry about."

  Dan was sitting cross-legged in the tent, facing the wall opposite the opening.

  Phil climbed in, kicking off his shoes outside of it and crawling over so that he was sitting in front of Dan, who was playing with the gloves.

  "Can I?" Phil asked. Dan nodded, so he carefully slipped the gloves off, turning Dan's palms over in his hands. Dan half expected him to wince or pull away at the contact, but of course Phil didn't.

  The skin of Dan's hands was dry and cracked, the knuckles bloodied.

  "If she thinks these burns are bad, she's got another thing coming."

  "Dan, she has a name."

  "I know. She better watch out for when I get my powers back-"

  Phil set Dan's hands in his lap, shuffling to mess with the sleeping bags irritably. "Mandy's a mutant. Just like you. I thought your arch nemesis was humans?"

  "I thought you were on my side."

  "I'm just trying to watch out for everyone, okay? She's scared, and she's been alone for a long time. You've had us. She hasn't had anyone. She's just like you, just a little less... cold."

----

  They sat on logs around the campfire, sitting soup from mugs. Dan sat so close to Phil that their sides were touching, the blanket wrapped around them hardly big enough for two. Phil's skin was warmer than the fire in front of them.

  Mandy came over to their circle, and a few people regarded her in a manner that was almost friendly. Phil smiled and offered her a spot to sit. "Dan and I can make room for you."

  Dan's lips had cracked. He moistened them again, but it hardly made any difference. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

  "Likewise." She sat, and for a moment their eyes caught. Her eyes were intense, and the freckles danced across her skin and dotted under her eyes like a constellation of shadows. For the first time, she seemed to notice Dan's condition. "Are you sick? You... don't look that great."

  Dan moistened his lips again. Even he could feel how cold he was, how miserably frigid his entire form was.

  "I'm fine," he replied, his voice a little lower than usual.

  But he lied.

Next Part ->

Request A Fic / ‘But Love Is Overrated Anyways’ Masterpost / All My Fics

[nilesarchives]

You Got The Right Stuff ― NOT CANON. (second verse: niles lite)

At Miles’ mother’s second wedding, he and Nick sneak away from the celebration to try and forget the events of the night before — by going a whole step further and hooking up in Miles’ new stepdad’s car. Vaguely NSFW, but skips over most of it. Also there’s NKOTB.

Nick thought that the wedding seemed to go by so quickly for how long it took for the couple to plan it. It was still really nice, though, and there was something about weddings that just made you feel good. Miles’ Mom and her new husband Greg seemed really happy, and although Nick hadn’t ever spoken to the man, he didn’t seem like a bad guy. After awhile of talking with his brother, Nick wandered off to get a drink, and it was only on his way back that he spotted Miles for the first time since the ceremony. Without thinking about it, he walked over to him. Even if this was the first time speaking to him since the night before on the man’s Birthday. “Hey!” Nick exclaimed, hoping it was okay to be excited about the wedding and hoping Miles didn’t feel too weird about his Mom getting remarried. “Finally get to say congratulations on the wedding. It was really nice. Your Mom did a good job.”

Miles was blown away by how quickly it all went by. It seemed like it was just yesterday that his mom was introducing him to Greg for the first time, and now he was his stepdad. Miles still didn’t like it; it was definitely going to take some getting used to. But his mom was happy, and that was all that mattered, really. The day started out stressful but went by smoothly. Miles was surprised he was able to pull himself together since he couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. His memory was spotty, but a few things were for sure: he’d embarrassed himself by trying to kiss Nick, Nick brought him home, Nick left, Miles called Murphy…and the rest was sort of a blur. Miles didn’t remember a single thing about it until he woke up with a tattoo he didn’t remember getting. He resigned not to tell anyone about it today, because this day wasn’t about him. He’d deal with it later. Now, he was trying to distract himself from all of that by saying hello to family members he hadn’t seen in a while and getting to know Greg’s family, albeit reluctantly. He was relieved when Nick came up to save him from the torture, but also unsure of how this was going to go. “Hey,” he replied, nodding at him. “Yeah, it was cool. She’s really happy.” He found his mom across the room, smiling as she talked to someone Miles didn’t recognize, which proved his point and made him grin himself. “I’m glad it’s everything she wanted.” He turned his attention back to Nick, raising his eyebrows. “Did you get to meet Greg yet?”

Nick was only a guest at the wedding. Him and Murphy didn’t have to deal with all the stress and family drama of it all. Truth be told, because of that he didn’t think they’d get to see Miles at all. Despite all of the weirdness that had transpired between them lately, though, he wasn’t going to not say hi to his friend. They did say they weren’t going to ignore each other anymore. Nick was just holding true to that promise. “She looks like it.” He nodded, turning his head to follow Miles’ gaze across the room and to her. She deserved to be happy; hopefully this Greg guy would be good for her. “Greg? No.” He shook his head once he turned back to Miles, laughing as he did so. “I’ve seen him, though. It’s good to finally put a face to the name.” He wasnt expecting him to look so much like, well, a Dad. But he’d just keep that observation to himself. “I thought he seemed nice. I’m not wrong, am I?”

Miles sighed, turning back again to look for Greg. Sure enough, he was right by Miles’ mom. He supposed he’d have to get used to that. “He’s…something. He can be nice but he’s usually a douche. I don’t know. He did already buy he a few drinks tonight, though. Seems like a bribe if you ask me, but I’m not complaining.” He wasn’t going to drink nearly as much as he had last night, that was for sure. Which got him thinking about the events again, and he brought a hand up to run the back of his neck. “Anyway, um…listen, man. About last night. I was—I was pretty drunk. I’m sorry I got all weird and stuff.” He didn’t want to ruin their night before it really began, but he really wanted to get this out of the way so it didn’t come back later. At least they weren’t ignoring each other.

Nick listened as he talked about Greg; noticing how annoyed he seemed with the man already. But he figured Miles had the right to be. It was his Mom the dude married, after all. “If he’s offering, you might as well just enjoy it.” He nodded, playing along in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Maybe you can get him to buy you a pony next. See how far he’ll go.” Nick had been drinking a little himself throughout the evening, but suddenly Miles mentioning alcohol was making him antsy. He tried not to think about last night, and he assumed Miles would do the same. Here he was apologizing, though, which didn’t really set right because it wasn’t really his fault. “You don’t have to be sorry.” He began slowly, feeling awkward as hell. “You were drunk, and I’d been drinking. If anything I should be apologizing.” He paused, shrugging. “It was an accident.” Although it definitely didn’t feel like that at the time. “Are you feeling better?” He asked, part curious and part just trying to change the subject. “No monstrous after Birthday hangover you had to suffer through?”

Miles nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe he’ll pay off all my student loans if I hate him just enough.” He didn’t miss how the mood shifted as soon as he mentioned the night before. Nick seemed just as uncomfortable as he was himself. “Right. Yeah. It was an accident,” he repeated, even though it definitely wasn’t. But Miles knew this wasn’t the time to fight it. So once again, forgive and forget. “This morning was pretty awful,” he admitted, remembering it being near impossible to drag himself out of bed. “But I got here. And it was worth it, ‘cause I told you I look nice as hell in a tux.” He motioned to the whole outfit, emphasizing his point.

Nick smiled. “Now you’re talking.” He hadn’t really been expecting to talk about last night at all, but a large part of him was relieved that Miles brought it up, because some time between last night and this morning Nick had convinced himself that Miles would think he was some kind of creep who got his friends drunk so he could mack on them. It had only been the one kiss, sure, but Nick had kissed back. And he could at least admit to himself now that he hasn’t wanted to stop. “Right.” Nodding as Miles agreed that it was an accident, even if Nick didn’t fully buy it himself, he didn’t say any more. “Man, I’m sorry. Feel like I should have left a case of water for you so you could have drowned it away.” He wasn’t sure if that would have actually helped, but people seem to think getting plenty of fluids is a cure all. As Miles motioned toward his outfit, Nick couldn’t help his gaze from following along. Once he realized what he was doing, though, he forced his eyes back up to his face. “I’m not gonna lie. You look pretty good.” He nodded as he spoke honestly, possibly a little too honestly. “When’s the last time you even had to wear a tux? I’ve known you for how many years?” He questioned, only teasing. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen you so formal. Half of me thought you’d show up in a tuxedo T-shirt.”

Miles was glad they could at least talk about it this time without having to ignore each other for a month beforehand. He wished he could say that something like this would never happen again so he didn’t have to worry about it, but that was what he’d said the last time. Now, it was at least nice to know that if it did happen, they could talk about it and move on. “It’s fine. I had water. I just…I didn’t actually get to sleep until really late.” He wasn’t going to mention the fact that he went back out with Murphy after Nick left, not yet anyway. Though he was surprised he didn’t already know since he lived with the guy. “It ended up being fine, though.” Miles tried not to notice Nick looking at him until his gaze flickered back up to his face, but he didn’t have much luck pretending not to see it. It caught him off guard because he’d only been joking, and now he felt his face get red. He just prayed it wasn’t that noticeable. It was only when Nick spoke again that Miles came back to reality. “Oh, um…I’m not sure. It’s been a while.” He shrugged. “I had one for prom, but I didn’t end up needing it.” His prom date bailing on him last minute was a well-known story. Miles was over it now, but still sort of pissed he never got to wear the tux. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in one, actually.”

Nick wasn’t really sure what to say to him, and if anything weird happened between them again Nick was fairly certain that feeling wouldn’t change. It was hard to act like everything was completely normal after kissing his friend. Twice. Still, though, it was a hell of a lot better than not talking to each other at all. Nick didn’t like it when that happened. “Oh, well. That would do it too, I guess. I hope you had fun, at least.” Despite the killer hangover he suffered and all of that. After taking Miles home, he had stopped by another bar on his way home, knocking down a few more drinks of his own before finding his way home and calling it a night. He had been surprised that he didn’t have a hangover himself. Noticing Miles begin to turn red, Nick couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. He didn’t mean to be weird, or embarrass him. It just happened. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.” He nodded, vaguely remembering Miles talking about it. Nick always thought prom was overrated anyway. Of course, that could be because he missed it himself, and that’s what everyone said when they were secretly bitter about something. “I don’t think I’ve ever worn one.” He admitted, in thought. Not unless you counted funerals. “Not since I was like, six.” He thought he’d look weird in formal wear now anyway. Tall people always looked weird in suits; like business men. Or Abraham Lincoln. “On a scale of one to ten how uncomfortable is it?”

Miles nodded. “Yeah, I had fun. It was pretty much exactly how I picture a good 21st birthday to be. Just a lot of alcohol and not remembering much the next day.” Miles could definitely do without the pounding headache that morning, but he was pretty sure there was no avoiding that. “I think my mom was more upset about it than I was,” he remembered, thinking back to her insisting that he deserved to go to prom while Miles had just considered it another free night to hang out with Murphy. He nodded, thinking back. “I actually think I was six the last time I had to wear one, too. At my cousin’s funeral. I feel bad for all the poor little kids stuck in uncomfortable suits just to have to sit through uncomfortable situations.” He laughed at the irony of it all, shaking his head. “It’s not that bad. I’d only say like a three. It’s just hot more than anything.” He shrugged. He could live with it. As he caught another glimpse of Greg, shooting a silent glare at the back of his head, another thought crossed Miles’ mind. “Hey, have you met my new sister yet?”

Nick smiled. “Hey as long as it was worth it.” He was glad he at least enjoyed himself. Nick couldn’t really remember how his own 21st went, aside from the pulsating hangover he suffered the next morning.“That’s so sad. Hopefully seeing you dressed up now makes up for it a little bit.” Weddings beat proms ten out of ten times anyway. At his next comment, Nick nodded in agreement, not sure what to say other than the fact that it definitely wasn’t the best situation. “I’m sorry, man. Me too. Something about baby suits are all super itchy for some reason too.” He smiled, not sure if funeral talk was proper wedding talk, but it wasn’t sad so it was okay. “Not too bad.” He let the topic die off as Miles asked him the question. Raising an eyebrow, he shook his head. “Can’t say I have. I forgot you were getting one of those.” He laughed. “Why, should I go make excuses to talk to her and Greg just to see what they’re like?”

Miles nodded. “Totally worth it.” Considering how his own went, Miles sort of wished he’d been there for Nick’s, but he supposed he’d never know how that went down. “I’m sure she’s over it now, too. No big deal. That girl was never very nice, anyway.” High school prom dates were never that important later on, honestly. “Yeah, they are. I don’t know what it is about ‘em.” He was thankful to move on from this conversation, not because he was sad, but because it probably wasn’t best to keep focusing on it and end up ​getting​ sad eventually. “I forgot too. I actually just met her, like, less than a week ago.” He sighed, thinking back to the awkward moment they shared during their first meeting. “We should go find her. She’s actually kinda cool, from what I’ve seen. Don’t know how she came from Greg.” He shook his head before scanning the crowd and beginning to lead Nick to go find her. “C’mon. I think I saw her go out by the bathrooms a little while ago,” he mentioned, motioning toward the door that led out toward the bathrooms across the hall.

Nick hadn’t gone to his own prom either, instead choosing to skip it alongside his date and friends at the time. It was fun, so he didn’t really regret it. Miles didn’t seem to either, so he figured neither of them really missed out on much. “You got a mean girl to agree to prom with you? That’s impressive in itself. Girls in High School were intimidating as hell.” He laughed, because really all girls seemed intimidating to him until his senior year, at least. Nick nodded, not replying again until Miles’ new sister came up. “Oh, cool. What’s her name?” He was curious; he had seen her in the wedding now that he thought about it but hadn’t realized it was Greg’s daughter. “Let’s go before you two are stolen away for family stuff, then.” He jerked his head toward the toward Miles just motioned to. “You should probably lead the way, though. I don’t want to scare her by jumping out at her near the bathrooms.” That wouldn’t really make a good first impression.

Miles shrugged. “I never understood it, either. Till she said she couldn’t come the day before. Then it all sorta made sense. Like, that’s more like it.” He laughed, because even he could admit he was a dork in high school. At least he was a little better now. “Hadley,” he replied as he led Nick out into the hall. It was immediately quieter, with less of a chance of drunk family members approaching him to ask him questions he didn’t feel like answering. “She’d probably just laugh. Nothing could get more awkward than her hitting on me before we found out we were gonna be related in a few days.” Miles definitely preferred being an only child, but at least he could milk the whole stepbrother thing by holding something like that over her head forever. He stopped near the bathrooms, where he swore he’d seen her earlier. “So…I don’t know if we should just stand here and wait, or if we’ll get thrown out for being creepy.”

Nick laughed. “Normally I’d give you the 'you can do better’ talk, but since it’s been about forever and a half I’m sure you don’t need that anymore.” He began to walk with Miles toward the door, nodding to himself and trying to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally forget her name or something. “That’s a cool name. Never heard that one before.” He said before they got to the empty Hall, and immediately Nick could feel the difference between the area there and the one the reception hall was held in. There were almost too many inside, but he supposed that was to be expected at weddings. “What?” He turned his head to look at him. He’s be lying if he said that wasn’t hilarious. “Miles.” He began, trying to sound serious although it was clear he was only teasing him. “Are you having an affair with your stepsister?” He made sure not to say it too loudly in case someone decided to walk in at that moment and take him seriously. “You’ll probably be fine because you’re the bride’s son. I’m screwed here.” He smiled again before shrugging. “I don’t mind waiting unless you’d rather go look for her. If anyone asks we’ll just pretend that there’s someone in the bathroom. Or pretend to be arguing 'cause no one likes go get in the middle of that shit.”

Miles shook his head. “Yeah, I definitely do not need that talk. Thanks, though. I appreciate the thought.” Miles nodded in agreement. “It is cool. Makes it harder to forget.” He knew Nick would want to know more about that whole thing, which was to be expected because it was too funny not to share. “She just called me cute or something. Then we found out our parents were getting married and it was the funniest thing that happened to me all week.” When Nick made his gross comment, Miles hit him in the shoulder, but still laughed. “Shut up, man. Next time you wanna say some dumb shit like that just remember you got naked in front of my mom.” He could definitely keep holding that over Nick’s head for at least a little while longer. He wasn’t over it yet. Miles surveyed their surroundings before motioning for Nick to follow him again, trekking a little further down the hall and around the corner to where he’d seen a bench by some plants beforehand. Sure enough, there it was, presumably a place people sat to wait for someone or just get some peace and quiet. “This is a lot less creepy,” he noted, sitting down. “At least there’s a corner we’d have to turn now.”

Nick shrugged. “Anytime.” He nodded. Hadley wasn’t a name he heard every day. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing again as Miles elaborated. “Hey.” He shook his head, grinning. “At least you know she doesn’t dislike you. This is a good thing, right?” So maybe he shouldn’t have made that joke. Like most things, it sounded a lot funnier and a lot less douche baggy in his head. Trying to man up and not flinch when Miles hit his shoulder, Nick nodded. “Okay. I had that one coming. I’ll give you that one.” The embarrassment wasn’t any less real, though. He’d actually let himself forget about that for a few minutes. Trailing after Miles, he was thankful when he spotted the bench. If he was being honest, it was nice to get away from the crowd for a few minutes. He could only imagine what Miles must be feeling. Sitting down next to him, Nick agreed. “That’s true. We look more casual about it now.” Nick looked down the hallway briefly, looking out for people coming their way, but there were none just yet. “Murphy must be somewhere around here, too. Everyone seems to be missing, though.”

Miles couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes at that. “I guess anything is better than Greg trying to call me 'son’ every five minutes. Like, dude. Relax. They weren’t even married until a few hours ago.” He didn’t hold back being bitter about it in front of Nick anymore. He just needed to vent about it enough so he could begin to accept it. “Yeah, you did. I won’t forget about it that easily. And neither will she, unfortunately.” Miles wondered if Greg knew that she’d seen some shit that night, and if so, he wondered if he knew it was Nick. He wasn’t going to ask, though. At the mention of Murphy, Miles frowned. “Oh, shit, you’re right. I hope he doesn’t think we left him or anything. Though I think I saw him talking to my mom a little while ago and they looked like they were having a grand old time.” He wasn’t too worried about it. Miles’ family adored the Vaughns. Still, he didn’t want to leave him alone all night. “I could use a minute out here, though. It’s kind of exhausting in there after a while, y'know? Too many people with too many questions. And too much alcohol.” He shook his head. “Clearly, I should cool it with the drinking in general,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He obviously didn’t make good decisions, and he’d already had enough to drink tonight.

Nick drew his eyebrows together, frowning at that information. “That’s weird, he shouldn’t be doing that. Did he even ask if he could call you that first?” That was just as bad as sport. Nick had an Uncle who used to love that term when he was growing up. He still didn’t understand the need that older dudes felt to grossly nickname people younger than them. Nick didn’t mind the fact that he was beginning to rant, in fact he was a little relieved. He knew Miles wouldn’t be completely fine with the wedding. Nick just wasn’t sure how to ask how he was doing without prying too much. “Okay, I get it. You win.” The familiar burning of his cheeks and eats began to settle in, as it only seemed to do when talk of the incident came up. It was his own fault for not thinking before speaking. And also for being a stripper in the first place. He was just going to have to live with his decisions. “I told him I was going to walk around for awhile and get a drink.” Nick shook his head. “He was the last time I saw him, too, so I think he’s okay. He knows he can text me if he needs to.” His brother had told him numerous times he could take care of himself, but he still never quite felt right leaving him on his own without making sure he knew he could contact him. “We can hang out here for a little while, then.” At least until one of them had to go back. “It looks like it’s a lot to handle.” He commented, about to say something else when Miles’ last words traveled to him. Nick wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear that or not, but part of him knew that was a jab about last night. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but it kind of did. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it.” He spoke carefully. “The drinking. It’s not for everybody.”

Miles shook his head. “No. I just don’t say anything. It’s not that I don’t ​like​ him. He just does a lot of stuff that bothers me. And…he’s not my real dad. All that bullshit.” Miles shrugged. He’d get over it eventually. He had to. “Damn right I win.” Miles nodded, looking around again as they talked about Murphy in the slim chance he might be out there looking for them, but of course he wasn’t. He was fine. “He’s a big boy. I think he knows the number for 911.” Miles was only teasing. He knew Nick was protective of him, and it wasn’t a bad thing. He nodded at that; it certainly was a lot. Miles looked up when Nick responded to what he said. He hasn’t exactly been quiet about it. “I do like it. It just.” He paused, shrugging. “Good things don’t typically come out of it.” He didn’t think he wanted to have this conversation right now, but honestly, it was all he thought about lately. It was hard to go back to totally normal when things like this happened. It wasn’t easy looking Nick in the eye without thinking about the fact that they’d kissed twice now, and there was no way they could both be accidents. “Sorry I keep bringing it up. It’s just confusing. I’m trying to make sense of it all.” But he couldn’t do that if they both resigned to just not talk about it.

Nick nodded as Miles spoke about Greg. It sounded rough, but it also sounded like Greg was at least trying to form some sort of relationship with him. Even if he wasn’t going about it the right way. “Hopefully after all the wedding stuff he’ll chill out some.” He wanted to ask about how Miles’ real Dad was doing, but he didn’t want to stir up any more bad shit on accident. “Yeah, don’t get used to it.” He joked, shaking his head. “Well, now he has two emergency numbers. He’ll have to just deal with that.” Murphy didn’t always like it, though. “Right.” Suddenly it felt awkward again, but Nick knew he couldn’t keep avoiding it. Especially since there was no excuse to make not to talk about it. It wasn’t right of him to do that, anyway. He knew that. Miles deserved answers; the problem was that Nick just didn’t have any. “I don’t know, Miles.” He shook his head, frustrated. He wanted to tell him the truth; that it hadn’t entirely been an accident. He just couldn’t seem to find the words. “I don’t know why you think I have the answers when I’m just as confused as you are.”

Miles shrugged. “Yeah, hopefully.” Their small talk slowly died off until it seemed they only had one thing left to talk about, the thing they both tried to avoid but to no avail. “I don’t think you have all the answers,” Miles retorted, looking at him. He suddenly felt defensive. He wasn’t trying to pin it all on Nick, he was just voicing his confusion. “I was just saying.” He definitely didn’t want to fight. Not here. That would be worse than ignoring each other. “Can I just. Can I ask you something?” It was hard to do this without knowing if he was overstepping boundaries. But he was pretty sure they crossed that bridge when they kissed the first time. “Why did you let me do it if you knew it was a mistake?” Miles hated saying it like that, knowing in his heart that wasn’t what it was. But if it was the only way either of them could get the words out, he’d have to settle. He made sure to maintain eye contact before he spoke again, lowering his voice in case somebody happened to be out there with them now. “Did you want to kiss me?”

Nick didn’t want to fight with him. He also didn’t know what to say without sounding repetitive and giving Miles the same bullshit excuses. So whenever this seemed to come up, Nick felt stuck. He sighed, staying silent for a moment and trying not to snap back because he knew he’d regret it. “What is it?” He looked at him cautiously. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. And it stung him, because it didn’t feel like a mistake on his end. “I stopped you.” He tried to make his even as he met his eyes. “I stopped you. But.” He shook his head, angry with himself for being too fucking scared to say that he hadn’t wanted to stop. And then Miles had to go and ask him that, and Nick was thrown for an even bigger loop. All he could do was look at him for a moment, the word yes on the tip of his tongue. It never came, though, and before he knew what he was doing, Nick surged in, closing the distance between them leaning down to press his lips against Miles’. It was fast, and it was probably wrong. At that moment, though, it seemed like the right thing to do. It would give Miles the answer he was looking for without him having to say it and suddenly make things weird. At least with this, if it went badly, they could pretend it was another accident.

Miles didn’t know how to react when all Nick could say was that he’d stopped him. He had, but not before kissing him back, and not without clear reluctance on his part. Miles just didn’t understand it. But evidently, neither did Nick. And neither of them was able to get another word in before Nick kissed him. To say he was surprised would be the understatement of the year. It certainly answered his question. Fearing Nick would pull away again and tell him no, Miles didn’t want it to be too much too fast again. But he also didn’t want to seem like he wanted this to stop. He hesitantly lifted his hands to hold Nick’s face, keeping him close. Miles couldn’t believe how familiar this felt now. It was still surprising and equally as exciting, but the familiar feeling allowed him to deepen the kiss without having to worry so much about Nick pushing him away after all.

Nick had only stopped him the night before because he was too drunk to know what he was doing. He felt like he was taking advantage. Right now it was different. Miles wasn’t drunk, and neither was he. They’d been drinking, but using that as an excuse now was futile at this point. Yet all of those thoughts were the furthest thing from his mind as he kissed him. For a second, Nick thought Miles was going to push him away. But then his hands were on his face and he was kissing him back, and it felt good again. Just like the other times felt good. Allowing the kiss to deepen, Nick responded in turn, his arms reaching out to wrap around Miles’ waist to bring him closer. At that moment, he paid no mind to whoever may walk out into the hall. He just didn’t want to break away yet.

Miles quickly realized that if he’d been at all afraid that Nick was going to change his mind, that was gone as he wrapped his arms around him to pull him closer. It made Miles feel a little more adventurous, and he figured he’d had enough to drink that he could still use it as an excuse — just in case — for letting his hands wander. While one ended up on Nick’s shoulder, the other made its way up to run through his hair. There was no way that this was anything but pure want on both ends. Miles felt like the world around him didn’t exist. That is, until he heard his name, and it definitely wasn’t from Nick because he was pretty sure that he’d had his tongue in his mouth just then. He quickly pulled away, thankfully without biting him this time or causing any other injuries, looking up to find his mom standing over them with an inquisitive look on her face. “Hi, Mom,” Miles said, dumbfounded, his eyes wide. She calmly informed him that they had to have their slow dance soon, regarded Nick with a smile and a nod, and went back into the reception. Miles watched her go before turning his attention back to Nick. He was quiet for a moment, but there was no way in hell that Miles was going to pretend that one never happened. “That wasn’t an accident,” he said simply. He knew he had to go, but he’d be damned if this was the end of that. He raised an eyebrow at Nick, hoping he got the hint that Miles wasn’t done here, before standing up to go back where he was needed.

Nick was only further spurred on by the hands on his shoulder and in his hair. The sensation of Miles’ fingers curling through his hair caused a pleasant chill to roll down his spine. He’d always had a weakness for that, but something about this particular time had him hyper aware of every touch. And he had an inkling it was because neither of them were holding back anymore. Dragging his hands up Miles’ back, up to rest against the back of his neck, then around to cup either side of his face — Nick didn’t even think to break the kiss. With each passing second it seemed to grow deeper and less controlled, and he completely forgot about the fact that anyone could walk in at any moment. The voice that sounded from in front of them was a pretty rude awakening, though. Instantly, he felt Miles separate himself, and out of pure instinct he did the same. Ripping his hands away, he scooted back a respectful enough distance before daring to look at the person he knew it was already, judging from the voice and the look on Miles’ face alone. First she saw him half naked. Now this. How she managed to keep her voice even and talk to her son as though nothing was going on, Nick didn’t know. He could only assume she wasn’t exactly thrilled, though. For a moment, even after she left, he stared blankly after her. Slowly, he turned back to Miles, expecting an awkward reaction that matched what he was feeling at the moment. But he didn’t get that. Instead, he was calm, and it took Nick a moment to understand what he meant. But then it sunk in, and all he could do was nod. They weren’t finished here. “Not an accident.” He echoed, confirming it because there was no sense in denying it anymore. As Miles walked back inside, he watched until he disappeared from sight, only breathing out heavily once he was alone. Nick didn’t know what was happening anymore, and the few moments he took to compose himself before walking back inside didn’t help provide him the clarity he hoped it would. Still, what’s done was done. And no one seemed mad, at least not outwardly, so he wasn’t going to worry about it. Walking back to the wedding, Nick thought that maybe he should go find Murphy. He was gone long enough.

Miles was fairly certain from Nick’s response that he could come back after this whole dance thing and it would be like he never even left. He was surprised that he was able to stay so collected this time, considering the last few times left him really flustered and unable to process his own thoughts. Now, though, he was walking back into the room with a smile, acting as if nothing had just happened, and he was pretty sure he played it off. He found his mom as the crowd around them cleared out and the DJ announced them and started a song Miles used to enjoy with his mom when he was a kid. He smiled at her despite what had just happened and started to lead her across the floor. When they were out of earshot of anyone else, Quinn got close to his ear to whisper that she’d known something would happen between them all along. Miles ignored that, settling on telling her simply, “Congrats on the wedding, Mom.” The rest of the dance went by quickly, with Miles enjoying the time he had with his mom. As soon as the song came to a close, he ignored the applause to hug her again, only to look up and find Greg smiling at him. The bastard said something along the lines of it being his turn now, sorry to have to steal her away, and everything about the whole exchange made Miles’ skin crawl. He ignored Greg, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek before turning around to go find Nick again. He’d had enough of Greg’s shit for one night, he decided. If he was supposed to get along with him forever now, the least Miles could go was have some fun messing with him. Spotting Nick across the room, Miles headed over to him, immediately grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him around to face him. “I have an idea,” he said, his voice low. He didn’t know what was compelling him to act like this, but he couldn’t say he minded it.

Nick searched for Murphy for a few minutes when he got back inside, checking up with him and trying to appear like he hadn’t just made out with their mutual best friend and gotten caught by his Mother. Briefly, he saw Miles dancing with her and smiled before feeling intrusive and directing his attention to the table around him, listening to the people fawn over the dance and the wedding and how beautiful it all was. Which it was, but he couldn’t help but be annoyed with some of them, because they seemed more concerned with their opinions of the wedding than the wedding itself. Nick didn’t speak much with them for that reason. And also because part of him was terrified they may recognize each other. And he’d like to get through the rest of the day without any more embarrassing shit happening. Excusing himself from the table once more, noticing Murphy was doing fine seemed content to do his own thing, he wandered off to go find someone to talk to. He didn’t get very far, though, as a hand clasped onto his shoulder and caused him to turn around. Immediately noticing it was Miles, not to mention his tone, Nick rose an eyebrow. “What kind of idea?”

Miles thought it might be easier to just show Nick what he was thinking, rather than telling him. At least if Nick understood him and leveled with him without him even having to say it, he’d know they were both really on the same page with what they wanted. He motioned for Nick to follow him, going to the head table where Greg’s suit jacket was hung over the back of his chair. Weddings with dim lighting and drunk people made it way too easy to do something like this and not look suspicious. Miles hoped for the best as he reached his hand into one of the pockets of the coat. He was pleased to find exactly what he’d been looking for: Greg’s car keys. “Moron,” Miles muttered to himself, shaking his head at the fact Greg had left them in there, though he probably didn’t suspect anyone was going to be trying to steal them. He wordlessly held them up in front of Nick’s face, grinning at him. “Greg’s stupid ass Tahoe,” he explained, hoping Nick was getting a little bit of what he was implying. Without another word he slipped the keys into his pocket, leading Nick out the door and out toward the parking lot.

Nick didn’t understand at first, yet he was curious enough to follow him without question. When he started rifling through the pockets of jacket, he almost questioned it, opening his mouth to do just that when Miles dangled a set of keys in front of his face. It was at that moment he began to understand, or at least he was hoping he did. For a second he was quiet as they walked, but as they reached the parking lot he asked a question that was more him agreeing to this idea rather than it was genuine curiosity. “There’s no reason for him to come out to the car any time soon, is there?”

Miles took Nick’s silence as a good sign. At least he wasn’t running away or telling him off or anything. He was just going along with it. His question just made it that much clearer that this was a good idea, and Miles grinned. “Probably not. But who knows.” Not that he gave a shit either way. He’d prefer not to be interrupted, but if it were Greg, at least he could laugh about it. He searched through the parking lot, weaving through spots until he finally found Greg’s car. He tried not to think about how fast his heart was beating as he unlocked it, willing himself not to back out now, because this was what he had wanted and now it was happening. He was just nervous. He also tried not to think about how quickly he climbed into the backseat, almost tripping over himself in the process. So he was excited, sue him. He quickly realized that this wasn’t going to be easy because it wasn’t very roomy back there, but at least he’d be able to say it happened and laugh about having messed with Greg without him knowing. And making out with Nick. That was certainly a bonus.

Nick began to smile at that answer before he could help it. The initial shock was beginning to wear off and realization was finally beginning to set in. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but hell of he was going to deny the opportunity to find out. They’d already come this far. They’d already done things they weren’t supposed to be doing. If Miles wanted to mess around in the back of his stepdads car, Nick didn’t quite have it in him to say no. “Since you stole his keys, I’m guessing he’s going to spend some time looking for those.” If Miles wanted this, he didn’t want to be interrupted. He was hoping this was the one time they wouldn’t be. As they reached the car and Miles unlocked the doors, Nick’s heart rate began to pick up, unable to stop himself from thinking of the implications. Briefly, he glanced around the parking lot before climbing into the back with him, promptly shutting and locking the door behind him. And without hesitation, Nick grinned at him and rested his hands on his shoulders before promptly trying to push him down in order to recline in the seat, half serious and half trying to lighten things up in case things were still weird between them. “We’re not here to egg Greg’s car are we? ‘Cause I was kind of hoping we could finish what we started.”

Miles waved him off. They’d deal with that if the time came and Greg came searching him out. He had a feeling that wouldn’t happen, though. The dude was too busy being a douche inside right now. Miles almost didn’t know what to do at first, waiting as Nick locked the door, but then he was talking and simultaneously beginning to push on Miles’ shoulders, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Shut up,” was all he could really think to say in response, because now he was blushing and was back to that place of being unable to process his thoughts. He complied with Nick’s actions, leaning back as he brought his hands up to the sides of Nick’s neck to bring their faces together and kiss him. He was already feeling stuffy in his full tux in a closed car, and it was too quiet. It wasn’t right. Miles wanted this to be perfect. He pulled back, pushing Nick away from him gently. “Hang on.” He shrugged his coat off and tossed it up in the front seat, then pulled his phone and the keys from his pants pocket. “Mood music,” he explained, only half joking. He moved up to turn the key halfway in the ignition just so he could use the aux cord. He put on the only playlist he saw fit, one he’d made with Nick full of songs they used to love — and still did. He just preferred anything over it being totally silent, even as a Backstreet Boys song began to play. He pretended not to notice as he returned to his previous position, pulling Nick down by the collar of his shirt and pressing his lips to his again.

Nick smiled slightly against his lips when Miles brought him in for a kiss; him going along with it not helping to calm his heart beat by any means. Pressing his palms flat against the seat, he held himself up and away as they kissed. For the moment he didn’t try to progress any further. Despite him pushing him down onto the seat, Nick didn’t want to rush it. When Miles pulled back his first thought was that maybe he did move too fast, leading him to lean completely back and look at him cautiously for a moment. Then Miles was taking off his jacket and throwing it onto the seat, and his doubts for the moment were squashed. At the explanation, Nick let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Good thing you have your phone.” He said, looking on in amusement even if secretly he was a little disappointed he broke away just for that. “I’d hate to hear what music collection Greg has going on.” From what Nick saw of him, he seemed like a country guy, and he couldn’t handle that no matter how oddly worked up he was. Now was not the time to be thinking about Miles stepfather though, so Nick shook those thoughts away pretty quickly. When he finished, Nick didn’t even have time to comment on the song before Miles was dragging him back down to their previous position. He had a sneaking suspicion as to what playlist he’d put on just by the first song alone, but Nick decided he could deal with the Backstreet Boys amongst other things if that meant they could keep doing this. Nick’s hands rested themselves on Miles’ sides, fingers bunching into the fabric of his dress shirt as he deepened the kiss. Nick wasn’t sure what was stranger: kissing his best friend in said friend’s Stepfather’s car, kissing his best friend while Backstreet’s Back played softly in the background, or the fact that he still wasn’t deterred by all of the above.

Miles didn’t know what it was about this time in particular, but he was slowly becoming less afraid that Nick would want to stop this. It must’ve been the way he kissed him back so willingly, on top of the fact that they were both speaking calmly as if this were the most normal thing in the world to both of them. But Nick’s hands tugging at the fabric of his shirt had Miles once again slipping a hand through Nick’s hair, pulling on it lightly to get a different angle. Miles abandoned his lips, but only to press short kisses along his jawline and down to his neck. His free hand trailed up along Nick’s back and pulled him closer. Miles didn’t stay in that position long, though, mostly because he was already missing the feeling of Nick’s lips on his. He pulled away and noticed how dizzy he felt when he looked up at him for a moment, but in the best way possible. He connected their lips again, simultaneously trying to pull Nick closer to him by the fabric of his shirt and raising his hips without really realizing what he was doing. If there was a line, surely one of them had crossed it by now and someone would have stopped it. But Miles didn’t see this ending any time soon. He just didn’t want to think about what that meant.

Nick still had difficulty making sense of this, but he did know that he didn’t want to stop now. Not unless Miles wanted him to, something which was quickly becoming a passing worry. Nick’s self control began to slip the second he felt Miles’ hand tangle in his hair again, and instantly he angled his head in the direction he was guided. That combined with the lips on his neck and Miles’ other hand bringing him closer, Nick let out a small groan escape from the back of his throat. His own hands, which were resting on Miles’ sides, further bunched the fabric up in order to pull his shirt upwards — trying to untuck it as he looked down at his friend briefly before turning his head to let their lips meet again. Then he felt Miles’ hips move up and brush his own, and without even pausing to think about the consequences, Nick ground his own downward. It was then that he broke the kiss, hips stilling and chest heaving slightly as he moved his head. With his nose brushing against Miles’ cheek, he moved down in order to press a small kiss against Miles’ jawline before continuing to move downwards to his neck, the small pecks turning into open mouthed kisses before he could talk himself out of it. It was then that he shifted his hips again, this time slowly, hoping this wouldn’t be the moment he’d be pushed away.

Miles hadn’t expected things to go like this. Not that he was complaining by any means, but he didn’t think it would have gone past the cautious kisses they’d shared so far. Even the first time, though it seemed like things may have been headed in this general direction, there was some aspect of reluctance in every move they made. Now, it was like nothing else mattered, each of them doing things Miles never expected to do with his best friend. Miles was a little hesitant about taking his shirt off because he didn’t want Nick to see the stupid tattoo and have that ruin the moment, but he figured he could get him to forget about it; in any case, Miles got the idea. Nick’s hips moving against his own and his lips suddenly on his neck had Miles tilting his head back, sighing. "Nick.” Saying it out loud was weirdly some sort of realization for him, that this really was his best friend who was kissing him and touching him in his stepdad’s car. It was almost funny, but Miles wasn’t about to laugh. Miles pushed Nick away again, only so he could sit up a bit and loosen the tie around his neck to take it off and toss it onto the floor. He started to undo the buttons on his shirt with shaking hands, his fingers moving faster than his brain could process, and by the time he was done he was breathing heavily and wanting nothing more than to be kissing him again. He hoped that was enough to distract Nick from the notion of removing the shirt completely, because at least now his arm was still covered. Miles pulled him back into a kiss as he reached down, blindly fumbling for Nick’s belt. If he was being too forward, he definitely didn’t care. Unless Nick told him to stop. But he didn’t see that happening.

Nick wasn’t thinking about the consequences at the moment. Granted, the other times they’d kissed he hadn’t been thinking about them much then either. Still, it was different this time. It didn’t feel scary, or weird. It felt like the opposite of that. The sound of Miles sighing his name was surreal, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear it again. Grazing his teeth against the side of his neck before sucking lightly at the spot, Nick was pretty in the moment. It took him a second to realize he was being pushed away, but when he realized why, he was strangely okay with it. Seeing him begin to unbotton his shirt made his throat feel dry, and himself impatient because now he needed to kiss him again. Leaning back down to do just that, he slid his hands up to splay across his now bare stomach. He paid no mind to the fact that the shirt was still technically on; he just wanted to be able to touch him without a bunch of fabric in the way. Deepening the kiss right away, his nearly faltered as he felt Miles’ hands on his belt. Breath hitching in his throat, he let his hands drop to help Miles remove it. With mild difficulty considering their position, Nick finally got his belt free and let it fall to the ground where he was sure everything else would be going soon enough. Not wasting any time, he pressed his hips closer while reaching his hands out to attempt to take Miles’ own belt off at the same time. He wasn’t about to be the only one with his pants off, so to speak.

Miles couldn’t help but feel like he should be talking more. Asking if this was okay or what it meant or what exactly was about to happen. But he was afraid that would ruin everything, because if something wasn’t right Nick would stop him. He could guess where it was going by Nick’s hands moving to remove his own belt and then Miles’, so Miles wasn’t going to ask questions. He was okay with this. He couldn’t stop the moan that escaped at the feeling of Nick’s lips on his neck, but couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed about it at this point. He looked down, feeling breathless as he helped Nick pull his belt off and toss it onto the floor. Looking back up at him, Miles mimicked Nick’s earlier action, yanking at the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to untuck it. It was a little hard to believe that he was undressing his friend in the back of a car, but Miles couldn’t have cared less about what it all meant. He brought their lips together again, lifting his hips to meet Nick’s movements, letting out a groan against his lips. His hands slid up underneath the back of his shirt, his fingers moving slowly over his skin. Miles wanted to be closer. He just wanted to touch him. His hands moved all the way up Nick’s back and down again, coming around to his stomach and traveling up over his chest. It made him impatient, pulling his hands out from under the shirt to start to work on the buttons. It was much harder than doing his own because he didn’t even break the kiss this time and his hands were still shaking a little, but he was impatient.

Nick probably should have slowed down. He should have made sure this was what Miles wanted, but every time the other man touched and kissed him back he couldn’t help but feel like it was. Miles would stop if this was too much and Nick would too. But it didn’t seem like it. If anything, it didn’t feel like enough. Miles’ moan made him feel like he was doing something right and that was enough encouragement alone to continue with trying to get his belt off. Once it was thrown to the floor, Nick noticed the way Miles looked up at him before pulling his shirt off. He got the idea, but made no move to unbutton, instead swooping back down for another kiss. Before he knew it, Miles’ hands were under his shirt and touching his skin and suddenly it felt like he was burning up. Every touch sent a familiar pleasant sensation surging through his body, so when he felt Miles begin to fumble with his buttons, Nick set to work to help him undo them all before shrugging it to the floor with the rest of their things. With Nick’s lips never leaving Miles’, his hands rested on the others bare torso. Slowly, he ran his hands downward, nails only grazing against his skin lightly before they reached the top of Miles’ pants. For a moment he simply kept his hands resting atop his hips, thumbs pressing into the skin gently as they kissed. After a moment of gaining his courage, though, Nick let the fingertips of his right hand graze against the button of the slacks. It was then that Nick broke the kiss — only to look at him, gaze darkened and chest heaving due to the fact they couldn’t seem to tear their lips away from each other. “Can I?” While before he didn’t have to ask, it was different now. Because after this there would be no turning back.

Miles had to take a moment once Nick’s shirt was off, stopping to look at him and take in the full reality of the situation. This was happening. It was still surreal, forgetting everything else around him. He drowned out the dumb music, ignored the fact he was at his mother’s wedding, didn’t think about the car they were in — all that mattered was Nick and wanting to be close to him. He hoped he didn’t seem creepy when he finally stopped staring at him, turning his focus back to kissing him. He couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as Nick’s hands moved downward. Miles knew where this was going. And honestly, it had been a while since he’d done any of this, and the fact that it was Nick made it even more nerve-racking. He wanted it, though. More than that, he wanted Nick. And he trusted him more than anything. When Nick broke away and asked him the question, all Miles could do was look at him for a moment. His mouth was dry and his heart was pounding in his chest, but he found himself nodding quickly. And he meant it. He wrapped his arms around Nick’s neck, pulling him in to kiss him once again, excitement now surging through him. This was real now. They couldn’t take this back.

Nick looked back at him for a moment, knowing the gaze wasn’t out of hesitation just by looking at him. He never thought he’d have his best friend underneath him, or anywhere near him like this. He couldn’t seem to find one complaint about it at the moment, though. Nick had stopped thinking about the consequences and where they were at and who they were at this point. Seeing Miles nod rapidly in agreement helped see to that, and Nick pressed their lips together again as his hands slowly began to unbutton his pants. Brushing a hand downwards, he sought out Miles’ zipper in order to inch it downwards and then tug his pants down in the same direction, his mouth still working against his as he did so.

Miles felt his breath hitch in his throat as Nick’s hands traveled further down, even if he knew it was coming. Soon enough he was lying there under him without pants and his face and neck immediately felt hot. Not because he was embarrassed or anything, but he couldn’t help being a little nervous. It was all so new to him. He wasn’t used to this, being with Nick in this way…or any other guy for that matter, at least not to this extent. He certainly never expected the first to be Nick. But he wasn’t going to tell him that. It wasn’t a big deal, it just made it all newer for him. Miles let his eyes close, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t at all how he had expected the night to go, but with the direction they were headed right now, he was pretty sure that it was about to be a lot better than he’d ever thought possible.

Nick got lost in what was happening. As they continued on, touching each other and never once stopping out of hesitation or regret, Nick didn’t even pay any mind to the soundtrack that played distantly in the background. In the back of his mind, he could hear the faint rhythm of some New Kids On the Block song that hardly seemed important at that moment. And before he knew it, everything they’d started was over. Now it boiled down to this: them awkwardly and silently pulling their clothes on in the back of Miles’ stepfather’s car while undoubtedly going over what had just occurred in their minds. While the music was barely recognizable earlier, it was all Nick could hear now. It still didn’t drown out the awkwardness, though. If he allowed himself to think too long about it, Nick would realize how sad this all was. While they were open earlier, now the two wouldn’t even look at each other. Quietly, Nick finished getting himself together after clumsily reaching down to retrieve their fallen articles of clothing and setting them on the seat between them, as though that would provide more of a barrier between them that seemed unnecessary now. When he was decent enough, and he could see out of the corner of his eye that Miles was too, Nick set to open the car door to head back inside. There was no reason to stay in the car anymore.

Miles felt like none of what had just happened could have possibly been real. When he caught his breath and looked around, realizing the extent of the situation, he figured out that the pure bliss he’d been feeling not a minute earlier couldn’t last forever. He suddenly felt too exposed, too vulnerable, while he’d felt comfortable a little while ago. He was a mess, the car was now a mess — the whole situation was just a huge mess. Miles didn’t know how they were going to proceed after this. They silently got dressed, Miles doing his best to ignore the now-too-loud music playing, especially since it was a stupid New Kids On the Block song he would never hear the same way again. Before he knew it, Nick was turning away from him, getting ready to leave. “Wait,” Miles blurted, reaching a hand out to touch Nick’s shoulder and stop him. It was like he’d been burned, considering how quickly he pulled his hand away almost as soon as he touched him. Miles had so many questions. There were so many things he wanted to say. But looking at Nick now, he didn’t want to say any of it. “Never mind.” He leaned up to the front to retrieve his phone and turn off the car. Now all he could think was what the fuck that was and where they were supposed to go from here. But now he’d just have to start by going back inside.

Nick froze as Miles reached out to grasp his shoulder, and it took him a minute to look back towards him. Silently, he looked at him expectedly. But then Miles’ changed his mind, dropping his hand and taking it back. The slight worry changed to confusion, but he didn’t question him on it. Instead Nick just nodded. “Okay.” He finally spoke, nodding again to himself before they both finally stepped out of the car and head inside. The reception was probably nearly over by now, anyway.

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Link’s Awakening Switch VIDEO GAME REVIEW

3.5/5 STARS  To be honest, I didn’t really like Breath of the Wild, the previous game that was on the Switch and the WiiU. That open-world game really doesn’t seem to have a narration and instead plop you at the start, making it difficult to find your way and I got bored with it after a few hours of just killing Pig monsters with sticks and stuff. Now with this remake in hand, Link’s Awakening still poised to be above average experience with its release. 

Much like the original, after getting ship-wrecked on the coast of an unknown island, a girl rescues you (link) and was brought to a village. Not sure where he is, Link must collect eight instruments from dungeons to wake up the Wind Fish that is hibernating its shell. This island where link woke up, is brimming with some Nintendo monsters from other games and this flying owl who told you that these instruments will wake up and help you escape this island.

The game still falters on nostalgia, as a top-view game that was brought from the original 8-bit version. As you traverse through this island, killing any monsters on your way or finding a secret room once you bombed a part of a wall that either will get a piece of a heart or a fairy shrine that will replenish your health.The navigation seems to be more helpful than previous games, aside from you typical map and compass, there are these treehouses that have “pay phones” which the shy old man in the first village will give you kirky hints. Also there are memories located on your overview map that will regurgitate what the owl said earlier to help you unlock these dungeons where the instruments. 

There is an arsenal of gear that makes the game more easier, choosing between two items like a grapple hook and a Roc’s feather on the X and Y button is the same thing from other Zelda games. It’s still nice that they kept similar mechanics from the previous games with its combination of monsters like those flying bombers that you have to shoot down with your bow to having you do a sword-spin backwards on those mimics/shy guys. Much like the original, when you find the ocarina, you can learn from specific people, songs that can warp out to various fast-travelling waypoints to waking up a walrus with Miran’s song. 

One new feature with this remake is Dungeon Creator that unlocks the ability for you to create dungeons. It’s much like a mix of Super Mario Maker and that 3DS Dungeon Maker game, creating chambers in the dungeon brimmed with challenges and traps that you can play if the game is easy for you. From editing chambers, requiring the player to do some difficult puzzle in play for a small key or much like the main challenges as well as having a brutal, final boss at the end seems to be great. This new addition is nice and much like Super Mario Maker, could get a lot of playability after you have beaten the game. 

From a graphical standpoint, it has some faults. The design of Link himself reminds me of those overrated Funko-Pop toys which is very disappointing. The character designs just feel like Funko-Pop meets Animal Crossing in terms of visual aesthetics. I mean, it looks like ditto from that episode in Pokemon, in terms of disappointing design. It is in any case, ugly and it really drives the charm of a Legend of Zelda game. 

One other fault is the motion blur, it just feels awkward having you transverse throughout this island. It’s like staring at the sun, hoping you would get blinded or cross-eye.  It doesn’t do any justice to have this “depth-of-field” effect around Link, or any motion blur for that matter because it still doesn’t focus on the center like something that a “depth of field” would do - centering something important especially if you would his picture taken. This whole transformation from the original Gameboy version to the Switch - from pixelated sprites to a cartoonish, Funko Pop look is totally overrated and annoying at spots as you kill Pig monsters with shields and such. 

However, not every design is terrible, it seems like only in dungeons that they don’t have this blur-effect. One aspect in dungeons is that those side-scroller, Mario feel to it, having goombas, it just felt like Mario Maker during those segments while you use something like Roc’s feather and it looks good.

The soundtrack yet again, never ceases to be awesome, there are three options; original 8-bit track from the Gameboy to the re-orchestrated version. Having a version of the LoZ theme while you roam around the prairies killing monsters and finding sea shell collectibles is just a treat to listen to. Also having Marin, constantly singing is just adorable, that track that she’s singing is quite soothing.  

Overall, the remake to Link’s Awakening is still a great remake, overshadowing it’s new take on its horrid design. To think that they wanted to make it look more like Funko-Pop just is upsetting. It’s upsetting that the game falters to this level of an overrated, big-headed design that people seem to collect. However as far as it goes, the combat is still the same with its mechanics and the fun you would get completing a dungeon and getting that 10th heart from defeating a boss.