#yes ik its gaudy

[wynsomeart]

I think it's quite fun to just randomly assign tragic backstories to characters in a co-op shooter lmao. But amidst all the bullets I have grown rather attached to my boys :(<3

[cleftfairy]

love simon was so good im glad cabaret was in it thats one of my biggest special interests but no one knows what it is (have some nitpicks though)

[beowulfs-booty-call]

Slow burn/fake date/enemies to lovers - Shiro, Odin Arrow, Ike

I can’t believe people sent me this, PARTICULARLY PERFECT ONES TOO HONESTLYYYYYYY

So, because I’m a huge ass fan of you Jordi, and because I love writing, I’m gonna do something wicked with the 41% of battery I have left: I’m gonna write a wee bit of what I choose, for each character and me! That way I can practice writing and also be able to answer your ask a bit more exciting!

SUPER LONG POST AHEAD, BE WARNED!

Shiro: (Slow burn)

Shiro definitely strikes me as a dude who I’d slow burn it with, tbh. There’s a lot of tension there that I think both of us would be caught up in before long lmfao.

It was meant to be a simple mission, enter the planet, find any response of life on the frequencies that would fight against the Galra and escape before Lotor and his crew could access.

Shiro breathed, he was not useful for this mission. Without the black lion, and effectively, his own bond with it, he was by no means a threat to anything besides hand to hand combat with his arm. Which was exactly why he was there in the first place.

Slipping into the vacuum of the space between him and the ship, Shiro pulled himself to the darkness. His breathing was the only thing that sounded human to his ears, attempting to flit through the ship’s interior. “Breathe. Breathe.” Mantra said, and patience at ease. Then the speed came and instantly for what seemed like a millennia, the ship and its pilot came to a green clad planet of prosperity.

The lions had already been planned to find other ways to intercept Lotor onto the course of the war. And Shiro? Shiro was headed to a “Earth like planet” where the people would welcome him and offer him democratic counsel so he may convince them to fight against the Galran prince.

But that was almost 6 quintant’s ago, Shiro was already welcomed by the democratic alliance that was held on the planet and was beheld to feasts amongst feasts (which, perhaps he did admit he cheated on his training for the first day before refusing outright later in.) before he could even muster the words to speak.

In front of him lay the counsel of the planet, Nihilan, its inhabitants almost Altean, though far from the more archetypes Coran and Allura had. In front of him was men and women who wore golden antiquated jewelry that shone in his eyes, a mirthy gaze that was almost as gaudy as their dress. Their own clothing, as regal as they may have seemed, shown the body to the elements, with cut fabrics that draped capes or tails, yet cut and curved along the body to show one’s physical prowess, if anything. Shirogane made note not to watch the much more happier elder, who’s entire body was cast to the rest of the public eye with gusto.

“Ah, yes...” He had uttered, the elder began to touch his digits to his cheeks. The flesh decorated with a sort of powder akin to what Shiro had seen from Coran’s visual training video.

“Voltron has led the force against the enemy for eons, mayhaps, even longer than we anticipate in our understanding...” The elder continued, Shiro nodded, happy to not have to “try” and eat another creature that laid on the planet’s “desert” coastline as the other quintant.”But there enlies the problem, Paladin. There exists a point in which we must ask, will Voltron be able to fight for our people? Lest we dissolve our own planet’s wealth to the Galra?”

Shiro stood up, eager to debate his position and possibly leave as soon as possible: “Your honor,”

“Father, my child...” The elder tutted, his words softened though the counsel’s gaze did not falter.

“Ah, “father”, then... Voltron has led the force against the Galra for as long as you’ve lived, that may be true, but we can’t fight the Galra alone. Not without your help. We may be an ancient weapon, we may be the hope of the future... We may be-”

“Cowards!’

Shiro’s voice hushed, the counsel gasping at the accusation pointed at the Paladin of the Black Lion.

At the edge of the lush palace, in his own “glory”, beheld a man nearly Shiro’s age, as tall as he, hair curled and midnight black... But with a gaze so sharp his eyes cut like the Blade of Marmora. 

“You speak to these men and women as though they have bravery and honor, Paladin!” The Nihilan continued, growling and pointing his finger towards the counsel, an open book in his hand and an emerald cape flowing behind him. His chest heaved, captured by an open suit that showed his torso with his arms covered by see through fabric. On his forehead, lied a piece of leather that coiled a gemstone that shone a beautiful purple despite the greens, and his face pouted with hair flicked about under his chin.

“These councilmen have no honor! Why, even they would give you to the hands of the Galra without listening to you!” He barked, one hand flipping through the tome while another beckoning to any would be opponents.

“Silence him!” “Dethroned brat!” “Can he truly be so bold?!”

Before he could react, Shiro watched as electricity shot out, and the next he knew, he blacked out as he felt a well placed blow to his neck from the shadows.

Shiro groaned, his eyes flittering to adjust to the dull light of a ship’s glow, the stars in front of him as he slowly gained sight of his surroundings. Green, beaten, and tugging his own ship. He was kidnapped, he was sure--

“Ah, you’ve awakened, Paladin.” 

Shiro turned, still trying to grasp his environment. The man who had interrupted his counsel with the Nihilans...

“I apologize for knocking you out in such a brute way. I admit, I myself was not expecting a Paladin of Voltron to be used as bait to be given to the Galra...” He paused, picking at the horns that pushed above his ears. Shiro’s eyes focused, and he finally could see who truly was near him, in the next seat to him. The man held horns that grew like a goat’s, though it curled upward the circular, and his beard was reminiscent to what seemed like a child’s story about a demon.

And yet, there was a passionate red glow on his face, as he shifted view from the passenger to the space that lay in front of them.

“...The Galra murdered my father and made the councilmen as their puppets in politics. They were planning on sending you to those thieves so that we would be safe from them.” The man looked down.

“I’m... Sorry. I could not sit aside and watch what practically happened to me, happen to another being.”

Shiro breathed, letting the info seep into him. In his stupor, he moved his hand to steady his head, as he sat slumped in the chair. However, he missed, and it lightly dragged against the colorful pants of the pilot before shifting back on course.

“Thanks...” He groaned, feeling the key part of a headache coming on.

“Nothing to fret, Paladin.” The Nihiladin chuckled, “I’m not pilot like you, but, getting you out was my first priority. A few of us Nihiladins do not agree with the Galra, much less the councilmen. ...We shall help you, after all, it is the least we can do for your troubles here on this day.”

Shiro rubbed his forehead.

“I’ve already patched a signal to the supposed “Castle” your ship had coordinates to. I must say... It’s rather interesting how you have acted, Paladin.”

“Oh?”

“Your hair is white... I’ve read in my tomes, that this is caused by quintessence... You wouldn't happen to have fought with the unholy witch of legends, have you?”

Witch...

Witch...

“...Haggar?” Shiro rasped, voice thickened due to the sleep he had endured.

“Shisa!” The nihiladin hissed, control now lost for a moment on the steering wheel. “She lives indeed then!”

Shiro nodded weakly, tired from the blow that still lingered on him.

“I see... If this is the case, my people will help you with even more reason now... I ask, however, that you come back, when you are rested to help me shut down the Galra as it stands. We have stations that the resistance and I have fought to take down... But for every one piece of this toxin we cure, 3 pieces more take its place...”

Shiro nodded, words not finding him, but his eyes betraying him and glancing at the similar figure’s curves and musculature. It was toned, yet strong, but... A key impact that Shirogane could swear he knew from a mile away:

The look of a man who was starved for a very long time.

“You... Don’t eat.”

The Nihiladin blinked.

“You don’t either. I know myself the body of a man who does not eat for himself. He requires others to remind him because he gives all for them. It was but something my father once taught me.”

Shiro hummed, humbled slightly.

“We, the castle, have food you can eat, you can--”

“Rest? By all means. But you yourself deserves it as well. Even heroes need rest...?”“Shiro. Shiro is fine.”

“Shiro, then, even heroes need rest. You may call me... “Wolf”, it’s but one of the names I go by now, after... Anyway, I will follow you to the castle, however, you will need to feast, after all. You seem like the creature who could eat an army’s worth of food.”

Shiro laughed, it was probably true, but he hadn’t eaten despite the feasts, that Hunk’s cooking was still on the mind.

“If I can rest, you can eat. I think we both need our strength for the upcoming battle.” He replied, not sure what exactly he wanted to tell the Nihiladin. It was as though they were brothers at arms, the amount of illogical events that had happened to him during his stay.

“Paladin of the black lion... I eagerly take up your proposal, then.”

“Ha, then it’s a date.” Shiro huffed, before slumping once more to his chair, eyes finally closing slowly.

“A date then. There’s still much to do, so, let’s try this one step at a time, Shiro.”

Shiro nodded, sleep finally coming to his aid as the Nihiladin continued steering towards the answering frequencies of the Castle of the Lions.

However, what lied ahead, was still the matter of explaining his absence to the rest of the Paladins...

Odin Arrow (Enemies to Lovers)

I wanna say Odin is that sort of... “Me but in a whole other situation “me”, so to speak. It’d be interesting being pinned to the opposite side only to find there’s more than just being someone else’s puppet.

Beowulf gasped, here he was, Seidre leaving him at a crucial moment in the fight against the supposed Pedri Nanesgani’s host: Odin Arrow of the infamous Arrow family. Seidre explained, “An old friend of me needs to repay for... His many debts,” He said, voice low and drawling as he whispered in Beowulf’s ear.

“He needs to be taught a lesson.” 

“A lesson?”

“I think that boy ought to be taught one, and from what I heard... He is truly a pathetic weakling...”

“I... see... Father, why fight him?” “Isn’t it obvious, my boy? Destroy the hosts, and we will get the wish we wanted from Titan himself.” “T-Titan?”

Odin slugged another punch towards the assailant in flannel. His fist was grabbed and pushed away as the other boy silently edged closer.

“W-What do you want?!” Odin shouted, Pedri too was silent from his recent stand in with Ava on the crash landed planet they had found themselves.

Beowulf looked down. He didn’t want to do this. He didn't want to fight, not again.

“A-Answer m-me.” Odin called, before kicking the other with a low sweep. Beowulf groaned, but picked himself up, before Odin pushed him down, grabbing his collar as he was stuck on the ground.

“...”

Odin punched the ground near his assailant.

“I w-won’t a-ask again.”

Beowulf looked up at him, before Seidre’s silken words lilted to his minds.

He spat in his face.

Odin angrily growled and pulled the boy’s collar and him up, before slamming him down.

“If y-you won't t-talk...” Odin huffed, picking himself up and shaking his head. “I w-won’t bother. I-I’m better than that.” He said, pulling his shirt up to rub his face clean. 

“G-Go jump off a--”

“A family.” Beowulf said, quietly.

“What?”

Beowulf sighed, still on the floor. He curled up, body aching slightly, but he was too tired to try fighting again.

“I want to be loved...” 

Odin hmph’ed as he pulled his pipe from his pocket.

“You’ve got a w-weird way of sh-showing it, kid.”

Beowulf sat up, hugging his knees as the other man watched.

“You don’t get it. Your host to something evil, aren't you? And you’re fighting for someone too, right?”

Odin looked on, eyes softening in his gaze.

“My... Father isn’t... Here, anymore. I just... I just want him back. Look, I didn’t want to do this, I swear it... But please understand me here, we’re both fighting for the people we care about.”

Odin puffed.

“And w-what will trying t-to p-punch me have a-any thing t-to getting y-your f-father back?”

Beowulf sighed, pushing his hair back and felt his earrings jingle as he slowly pulled himself up. “He said, if I taught you a lesson... Maybe, maybe we’d get a wish from Titan.”

Odin was fuming at the name, but kept his glare renewed. “Titan? You m-must mean that c-cult. How pathetic.”

“W-What?” Beowulf questioned, eyes grimacing.

“You really think, your father will be brought back by that sham? You must really be shooting for someone else here.” Odin drawled, his pipe smoking purple and his eyes a dark fuchsia. “W-why don’t you t-tell us why you’re really here.” Beowulf looked to the lush ground, lips beginning to dry faster.

“Answer me.”

“I... I don’t know.”

“W-what do you mean you don’t k-know. Aren’t y-you here to save your f-father?”

“I... Seidre... Look, I don’t need to answer to you! I just need your dumb demon to be gone so I can have my father again!”

Odin humphed once more, he pointed to his chest. “Then I suppose you know you have to kill me. I know you can do it.”

“What?” 

Odin’s eyes flicked dark as the words dripped in sarcasm.

“What are you, a d-dog? Don’t you realize that you have to kill me to get rid of me?”

“Y-You’re lying!”

“Of w-what? I’m not scared to die.” Odin beckoned, arms held out to accept the sentence. “Go o-on. D-do it. I’m waiting.”

Beowulf didn't answer, nor did he moved. He carried no gun, hid a small dagger in his pocket, what even was he trying to accomplish?

“Tch, w-wonderful.”

“No, wait...”

“I d-don’t think I’d wait for someone who just tried to punch me to save his daddy from god knows what. I’m f-fighting for s-someone I love. You just fight to be called a “good dog” like the little lost puppy you are.”

Odin spat on the ground.

“Ridiculous, I lost my ring to be assaulted by another insane cultist. Olai will love this.” He noted, before turning around to walk.

Beowulf snapped his fingers, almost desperately. “Seidre, Seidre, Seidre...”

Odin looked back, curious.

“You’re wrong. You’re wrong, you’re wrong, you’re wrong! You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone! You don’t know what it’s like to be hated! You don’t even know me! And I don’t want you to! I don’t want to fight! I just want my dad back! I want Seidre back!”

Odin didn’t speak, he observed the snapping fingers. 

Immediately, when his eyes looked to who was snapping, it was instead a young girl, far too familiar.

“I hate you!” she said, in her voice, frail as ever and crying.

“I hate everything about you! You’re just like me and I hate you! I never want to see you again!”

Odin’s heart was breaking, “Magpie...” He reached his hand out to her, but suddenly she sped off the other way, crying as she ran away. 

“Leave me alone!”

Jingling earrings snapped Odin back to where he was, the only thing remaining of where the young girl stood, was one simply black earring, with the cross still attached. Odin fell to the ground, a tree stump behind him as he analyzed the piece of jewelry, and he stretched his legs out onto the floor. Pipe puffing, purple smoke wrapped around him as he sat, meanwhile, the crying young girl sat on a tree branch away from him, drying her tears on the red flannel he wore. He scraped his scalp furiously as he mentally snapped his fingers, clutching his lonely right ear.

He didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t even want to see him. Yet, here he was, snapping his fingers and chucking what looked like a silver ring with a jewel over to the other boy after using his illusions. It was terrible, to do so, he’d say if it were anyone else...

“I see you hesitate...” A pair of coarse claw like hands pawed delicately on Beowulf’s shoulders, one softly stroking his cheek as the other massaged his back.

“What do you want, Seidre?”

The hands stopped.

“Is that anyway for a son to address his father?”

...

“Sorry Papa...”

“That’s better, now...” Seidre’s head appeared, decked out in his opponent’s fangs and bones and snickered as he watched his host toss the ring out towards Odin.

“The first to retrieving our wish... Oh, I can just feel the excitement!”

“...”

Beowulf kept silent, he kept watch on Odin. Every breath, every facial movement, even the soft smile the other proudly displayed when Odin put the ring back where it belonged, on a silver chain to wear.

It was hard to admit, perhaps...

“Come along now... We couldn’t destroy Pedri, but who’s not to say the other hosts aren’t around the corner?” Seidre spoke, shifting out of view.

“...Yes, papa.” Beowulf turned, ready to leave, before looking back at the infamous Odin Arrow, in his own pathetic state.

“...” 

Maybe, they were like each other. Maybe they were just on the wrong side... Maybe Seidre...

Maybe he really wasn't fighting for anyone... Just himself...

Even if there were questions bubbling everywhere, there was but one tiny truth to be told...

He had to admit, despite hating Odin for what he was, and for only speaking the truth,

Odin was cute when he was happy.

Ike (Fake Date)

We all know canonically Ike has no gf / bf, so, why not be the unrequited crush?

The merchants would have been furious with him. No, in fact, Aimee would have had his head on a platter if she had ever found out that the young man was traveling and ended up becoming the temporary merchant of the famous Greil Mercenaries.

He had everything they needed:

Vulneraries, Concoctions, Iron blades and weaponry forged by his own hard labor...

But there was something no forge or gold could get him.

It was true love.

And it was sappy, sure. Words of a bard would scoff at how simply those 4 words would sound, but here he was... Contemplating yet fantasizing.

He, a lowly merchant who’s only worth in battle was a flimsy sword and a text of fire that would singe if he wasn’t careful: He was by no means anything useful to the person his heart soar to.

With blue hair and a sword of tarnished gold, it was hard not to fall head over heels with him. He was strong, he was blunt, and his sword was as sharp as his merit.

And yet, despite all his training, all his mental gymnastics to learn basic magic... He simply knew that Ike was never meant to be his, much less, perhaps, anyone. And he persisted anyway, training with a sword day in and day out in secret with the mercenaries, in particular a chatty woman by the name of Mia, who was by far more than happy to gossip about “her boss”, not that he needed to know.

He learned to cook meat for the mercenaries, at a decent price he might add... But no man of blue hair stepped into the shop to purchase the savory chicken that would lay on the fire roasting. Only the hungry trainees and the even more insatiable Laguz would waltz in, drink a vulnerary or two and lend a laugh as they went about their purchases.

But it was the Great Annabelle’s Ball that seared him off his debilitating gloom... Only the finest merchants were allowed to attend, where the weapons of the gods were on display, as well as royals who were looking to partake in rich and lavish hedonism were proudly adorned in the nearby city’s richer districts. Oh, it’d be a shame not to go, of course! However...

“Only 2 may attend, a guest is mandatory.” 

It suddenly did not seem as such a shame not to go.

But... Perhaps...

Was it worth it..?

“A-Ah, h-hello there, how can I...”

“...Help me?” The man asked, scratching the back of his head. The green cloth wrapped around his head stuck out like a sore thumb, and the azure hair that glistened in the noon sunlight: He had just finished training, he was sure of it.

“R-Right, what’ll it be?”

Ike paused, momentarily stringing the words along mentally.

“Actually, it seems I’ll have to ask you that. As you can see, a few of the mercenaries told me about you...”

His heart was beating.

He knew it.

He was found out.

Oh by Naga he was going to kill Mi--

“And I heard about your ball, the one about the royals showing up and all that?”

By all that is holy...

“I was hoping if I could attend with you.”

By all that is holy, blessed be Mia’s-

“I’d like to see if perhaps the mercenaries can achieve anymore connections via this ball, perhaps if we can extend our reach, more will join our cause, after all. I hope you can understand if that’s at all fine with you, friend.”

“Ah...”

It wasn’t meant to be, and for that, he sighed.

He knew it too well, but, alas... It was better to have loved than to have never loved at all.

“You bet, I’ll make the arrangements. Even if we can’t, ah, find something suitable for you, I’m sure I can work something up for you, fitting fee for fitting in, wouldn’t you say?”

Ike nodded, people weren’t his most passionate subject, but those he could be simply himself with... They were his go-to.

“Tell ya what, you come in here tomorrow night, I’ll polish up the finest merchandise I have, and we go amongst the nobles like Gods ourselves, what’d ya say to that, long tall and blue?”

He had to say it, oh by the gods he had to, even if he was going to be turned down.

“Understood. Tomorrow night it is then.”

The merchant smiled. To spend the night with a radiant hero...

Ike turned around, feet just about to step out of the caravan.

“Ah, actually, I’ve heard you sell meat so well, Oscar even complimented it... I’d like to try some.”

It was certainly something to die for.

Honestly, this was so much fun, yet, like, so HARD TO DO LIKE OH MY GOD DUDE hwsjpidk[fv

But I love you s o much for bringing these asks in!!! I’ve got to do the other one for you soon, kay???