#I dare do say the Voltron tag?
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20 Questions For Fic Writers
I got tagged by @daydreams-and-honeybees and @halcyonhue (it won’t let me tag you and idk why! 😭)
This is gonna be very interesting and silly bc I have written much and posted little!! 🤣
TAGGING: @silvvergears if you havent done this before and…… actually idk who among my fic writing friends has or hasn’t done this one bc I’ve seen it going around a few times, so if you are a fic writer and want to do it, i’m tagging you!! 😆
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
LMFAO only 4
2. What's your total AO3 word count?
481,043 words jfc 😨
3. What fandoms do you write for?
I used to dabble in writing voltron fic years ago, and that makes up the majority of works on my ao3 but currently writing for The Owl House and I’m hoping to outnumber the Voltron fics on my account with other fandoms 😎
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Lmao uhhhh since I only have 4 published, I’m just gonna say the top two tbh 😅😅😅
Ashes takes the number one, with Crowd of Thousands as my second most kudos on a fic
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes!! I love responding to comments! I want to discuss things with people reading my fics and (especially in the case of Ashes), I wanna see what my readers theories are on what’s going to happen. It’s one of my favorite parts of having people who read what I write!!
If you’ve ever left me a comment and I haven’t responded, don’t be discouraged. Sometimes I just don’t know what to say beyond a giant thanks for reading. 😅 And sometimes I won’t reply if my last reply was a teaser
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Uhhhh so if I had finished it, it WOULD have been the untitled Bungo Stray Dogs Heathers AU fic I got like 75% of the way done writing and then abandoned.
But other than that I don’t have any with an angsty ending—oh wait no ¡Viva La Gloria! is technically a published fic in my ao3 isn’t it?
Yeah it’s ¡Viva La Gloria! then lmao
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Crowd of Thousands currently.
Ashes by the time it’s done.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Haven’t yet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Pls don’t send me hate I’ll cry
Criticism and critique are fine. Just don’t be mean to meeeee pls 😊
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
I have.
Nothing published anywhere.
I’m not very good at it
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
Not really. I don’t really read them either tbh
I’m kind of the kid who doesn’t want their foods to touch on their plate when it comes to entire fandoms in fics it’s just not my thing
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not yet, or at least not to my knowledge.
Knocking on wood now
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Nope!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Somewhat?
The planned Elowyn piece I have is something my girlfriend and I came up with together. So I have co-authored concepts
The first two or three chapter of Ashes, besides the prologue, there was a LOT taken from the discord RP that I’d originally come up with the plot of Ashes for. I had permission from that friend to use them. And I heavily, HEAVILY took out and then rewrote their portions (namely the Raine parts of the chapters “Moving Day” and “Hexside” bc the rest at the time were my characters). Their original writing has been scrubbed and a lot of Raine’s character and story arc has transformed into something else entirely. Pretty much all that remains is that they were the one who came up with the idea that Raine was Manny’s sibling. If they read it, they could probably still see the bones of what they wrote if they squint. But by the time Luz hits Eda with the door in “Hexside,” they’d already moved on from the rp. So it was very easy to rewrite around their parts and just reuse the posts I that I had written for those chapters.
14. What's your all-time favourite ship?
That’s too hard a question how dare you
I like too many ships
15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?
Oh jeez.
Either the untitled Bungo Stray Dogs Heathers AU that was never posted anywhere, or The First Golden Guard.
Pretty much The First Golden Guard i have just notes scribbled out of the plot, what I think the first chapter is, and some various bits of dialogue from different moments in the fic. But then I started writing Ashes and that took over my life, and now I really want to write The Caleb Files, and the bonus stuff that got cut from Ashes. Plus the Elowyn fic. so I just don’t know if it will ever get written now
16. What are your writing strengths?
Description and voice.
I really love getting a little flowery when describing action or setting while writing. And in the case of setting in particular, I think I have a more natural ability.
I also really strive to make sure each character’s own unique way of talking comes through in their dialogue. Maybe not always when the narration makes the reader privy to their thoughts and emotions, but at the very least, their dialogue does.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Bro just cannot stop yapping!!
I actually genuinely do believe my greatest weakness is my inability to shut up sometimes. I’m sure if I go back and reread Ashes from the beginning, I’ve said the same shit multiple times.
Also sometimes I just get repetitive!! And I use certain colloquialisms like “just,” “after all,” and “as if” FAR too often.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
sigh.
I am a latinx person who lived through the VLD fandom… I have a LOT of opinions… and I have seen some bad Spanish dialogue written by non-Spanish speakers… the kind of shit that stands out to even me, when I have little verbal fluency.
Here’s the thing: I am not AGAINST anyone writing another language of dialogue into their fics. I actually do think it’s a good thing.
HOWEVER!!!
If you are a person who only speaks one language—if you’re a person who kind of doesn’t know what I’m talking about when I say ‘code switching’ or only understands the basic definition of code switching—I am BEGGING you to try and have someone with more experience in that language than you to proofread those dialogue sections.
The amount of times I’ve seen weird moments where the code switching didn’t make logical or emotional sense for the character beyond the author’s “I want to include Spanish here” is innumerable. And that’s not to say code switching needs to have a deep, profound reason all the time—sometimes code switching happens bc there’s no word or phrase in one language that directly translates from the concept or emotion you know how to describe in another! But from what I’ve found, there are a lot of people who understand code switching in concept (and that it’s important for representation) but not in practice bc they simply have no firsthand experience with it. I don’t blame them, though! It’s a hard thing to understand on description alone! Unless you’ve experienced it before, I don’t think it’s something you can fully comprehend. And it can stand out. You can even think you’ve done it right on technicality, but it falls flat.
A tiktok in how to spot AI images I once saw said “AI understands that a mirror, or stairs, or chair legs have to be there there, but it doesn’t understand why it functionally exists or what purpose it serves” and therefore it makes mistakes by adding twelve stairs on the right and fourteen on the left, or five legs on two chairs that are somehow sharing them, or mirrors won’t show the correct items reflected back. I’ve seen many well-meaning fic writers (and published authors!!!) do the exact same thing with language switching. They understand that it should be there, but not functionally why.
Also a basic “don’t rely on google translate” here….. but also a less basic one: different cultures of a shared language are gonna have different turns of phrase and different slang. I’ve also seen a lot of fics that have Lance (a Cuban character) using Mexican slang or words. That’s always awkward.
There’s just a lot. I could go on about this forever but I think I pretty much covered it all.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Ever?! Lmfao Harry Potter when I was a young teen. I didn’t understand what I was doing at all and only did it because my older friend who knew I liked writing my original stories at the time said that I should try writing fic.
I didn’t even have a plot or anything. I just genuinely thiugh fanfic was writing your little self insert OCs and perpetually playing with them in a dollhouse made of your favorite thing 🤡🤡🤡
20. Favourite fic you've ever written?
Wholly and completely, without a shadow of a doubt
Ashes
It’s genuinely the first fic I’ve ever written where I have actually wondered if I was better off writing it as an original story and going the publishing route. Unfortunately for future me and fortunately for you all, I’m way too attached to the characters as their original names and incarnations to do that 🤣
It’s also the first fic I’ve ever written where I went into it already knowing every piece of the puzzle and having all the clues laid out to perfectly set them up ahead of time. I’m very proud of that and I long for the day where someone rereads Ashes after it’s over and discovers the tiny things in the extremely early chapters that were hints towards the end.
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I posted 609 times in 2022
That's 609 more posts than 2021!
210 posts created (34%)
399 posts reblogged (66%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@the-kittens-of-vol-tron
@viv-is-a-clown
@one-and-lonely16
@klance-daydreams
@numerous-bees-in-a-skin-suit
I tagged 303 of my posts in 2022
Only 50% of my posts had no tags
#anon asked - 42 posts
#voltron - 39 posts
#klance - 30 posts
#keith kogane - 22 posts
#art by bee - 19 posts
#my fics - 18 posts
#viv asked - 16 posts
#lance mcclain - 15 posts
#vld - 14 posts
#vld fanfic - 13 posts
Longest Tag: 90 characters
#how could anyone do that? you’re forcing someone to something they’re not comfortable with
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
I would love to see Klance on a fall walk, eating Halloween candy
Extra candy
“Lance, no.”
“Lance, yes.”
“You’re not allowed to have any more candy! You passed out from a sugar rush yesterday!”
It was the first day of November, and because Lance treasures all the first-day-of-the-months, he dragged Keith along with him for an evening walk.
Unfortunately, the Lambrechts down the street always buy too much candy for Halloween, and end up not knowing what to do with it. That leads to them leaving a bowl of it on their doorstep with a note that says “Extra candy. Free to take!”
Lance saw that. And ran to it.
The second Lance turned and bolted for the Lambrecht’s door, Keith knew why he was running. He had to stop him, because, well, no one wants to deal with a Lance that was at least three times more energetic than usual.
So Keith ran after him. But by the time he was there, Lance had already unwrapped a mini snickers bar. Keith sighed.
“Lance, don’t you dare take a bite.”
“What are you gonna do? Eat it yourself?”
“Well, I, um, maybe! Hey!”
And the snickers bar was gone. Lance turned to grab another handful of candy and shoved it in his pocket. “I’ll share if you let me have it.”
Keith groaned. “Fine. Did you get any M&M’s?”
I chose M&M’s for a specific reason that will be revealed in a fic that’s coming farther down the road hehe…
See the full post
37 notes - Posted September 29, 2022
#4
Dreams
Keith sat up in his bed at 1 in the morning. Why? Because of Lance. He was going to appear any second now, Keith knew it. And honestly, he couldn’t wait for the Cuban to show up.
After a particularly hard battle, the paladins of Voltron were getting ready to sleep on a foreign planet while the lions and castle recharged. Keith couldn’t sleep, so he sat on top of the red lion (yes, I like to ignore the lion switch) and watched for any danger.
He was staring off at the stars when he heard a strange rustling noise coming from below. He got on his knees and crawled to the edge of the lion and looked down, but he couldn’t see anything. So, grabbing his bayard, he descended the lion to scout out.
The noise was gone.
And then behind him.
Keith whipped around, aiming his sword at a shadow that he couldn’t really make out (pfft). He scowled.
“Identify yourself.”
“Jeez, calm down Mullet. It’s only me.” Lance was standing there, his hair messy and his eyes still held that dazed, tired look.
“Thank god. I thought it was something dangerous.”
Keith lowered his bayard and Lance rolled his eyes, stepping closer. “You know, Pidge said that same thing to me in a dream once.”
“You dream about Pidge?”
“I don’t know. I helped her with some stuff earlier that day, so yeah.”
“What else do you dream about?”
So Lance started telling Keith about his dreams, like the one where Slav took on the body of a talking dog, or the one where Keith was stabbing a shark and then kissed him (but he didn’t mention that last part).
Lance then burst into Keith’s room, a huge smile on his face. “I think I just had the best dream ever.”
See the full post
41 notes - Posted September 22, 2022
#3
took me way too long to find this Picrew lol
Tagging: @viv-is-a-clown @the-kittens-of-vol-tron @one-and-lonely16 @klance-daydreams
43 notes - Posted November 12, 2022
#2
Almost thanksgiving what r u guys thankful for
82 notes - Posted November 23, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
M&M’s
“One at a time! Wait your turn!”
“No way! I reached for it first!”
“Calm your mullet! I bought it!”
“You can’t call me mullet! That’s Lance’s job!”
“I didn’t call you mullet, I said calm your mullet.”
Shiro and Keith were fighting over a (really small) bag of trail mix. Shiro because he bought it at a space mall with his own money, and Keith because he has a serious M&M addiction. It’s not even funny.
Before his father died, Keith would always pick the M&M’s out of trail mix, since that was cheaper, healthier, and more convenient than a bag of candy. Plus, his dad liked the raisins, so it was like a two-for-one deal. It was the first piece of candy he’d ever tried, and he liked to place them in order by color. Don’t ask why. It was his official favorite sweet, and he didn’t share them with anybody.
Not even with Shiro.
“Don’t start getting aggressive, Keith.”
He slumped back on the couch, muttering some choice words that Shiro hears but doesn’t bother to correct, and folded his arms. “Then at least give me a handful.”
Shiro frowned and plopped a robotic handful of trail mix into Keith’s small gloved hand. “Don’t just eat the M&M’s. I'm not taking back the other stuff.” And he left for the kitchen to grab a drink.
Keith stayed on the couch, crossing his legs and eating the almonds first because he hated them. He’d be saving the good stuff for last.
Because who doesn’t? Just me? Okay…
Then he ate the peanuts.
Then the cashews.
See the full post
131 notes - Posted October 18, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#tumblr2022#year in review#my 2022 tumblr year in review#your tumblr year in review#idk what to tag this with#I’m tired#its five forty five in the morning#anyway#thats my year in review
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
♥️ No pressure tags: @ebhenah @enjayas
1. How many works do you have on AO3? 24
2. What's your total AO3 word count? 153,024
3. What fandoms do you write for? I've stuck my hands in a couple different ones: I've got 7 in Voltron, 5 for Gotham TV, 5 for Teen Wolf, 3 for Infernal Devices, 2 Supernatural, 1 Genshin Impact, and 1 for Stranger Things
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Double Standards {Voltron, Shiro/Keith/Lance; Unfinished}, A Dare, A Ghost, and A Deadly Night {Voltron, Keith/Lance; Finished}, Remember That Night? {Teen Wolf, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Finished}, Sometimes Things Change {Voltron, Keith/Lance; Finished}, First (Official) Pack Christmas {Teen Wolf, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski; Finished}
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I do! I absolutely love getting appreciation and I hope that I get more
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Most of them end on a happy note except my fic The Only Road I've Ever Known, it's just a little Wayne Munson character study in which it ends on the harrowing note that he's all alone again, post cannon
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? It's probably Keeping My Claws Away, When They Were Close Enough to Hurt You it's an adopted Teucer fic and it ends with them dealing with it
8. Do you get hate on fics? No, I don't think I have
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yeah, not a lot but it's usually either soft or super kinky
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? No, I haven'
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? No
12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, back in the day before I was on Archive I co-wrote a Phan-fic on Wattpad with an ex, it was called Comic Books and cigarettes or something like that
14. What's your all-time favourite ship? I don't think I have a number one, I can offer you a top five: Will Herondale/Jem Carstairs from The Infernal Devices, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski from Teen Wolf, Oswald Cobblepit/Edward Nygma from Gotham (TV Series), Dean Winchester/Castiel from Supernatural, and Steve Harignton/Eddie Munson from Stranger Things
15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? All of my old Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood and I don't think I'll finish Double Standards
16. What are your writing strengths? I think I do well with dialogue but I've been told that I do well with description
17. What are your writing weaknesses? I am a perfectionist, if I don't like something I don't want to share it even if it is fine
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? If it's done right it's excellent, I know that my skills lack there so I try not too
19. First fandom you wrote for? Supernatural I think, it was either that or Shadowhunters Universe more specifically The Mortal Instruments
20. Favourite fic you've ever written? Ahhh, I don't even know. this is a near impossible feat for me. I always want to say the last thing I posted but that was such a quick thing, but it's a toss up between I am all the Things They May Have Said to You {The Infernal Devices, Will Herondale/Jem Carstairs} someone wanted a continuation of an old fic so I had an excuse, Keeping My Claws Away, When They Were Close Enough to Hurt You because I used multiple technique s
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when u feel like u have been writing this for 7303u8523 years and u look at the word count and its like,,, best i can do is 25000
#no u bitch#i have been working my whole life on this#how dare u say this has fewer than 300k words#so fucking rude#now for the rest of the tags#fanfic#fanfiction#yes this is abt my voltron fic why do u ask#voltron#vld#klangst#klance#hurt/comfort#writing#writer#author
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Tales Of Arcadia + Memes & Foolishness + Funny Headcanons
I saw a Voltron one and now I will torture you. This could kinda fit in with the Big Bro Douxie AU so tagging @honeyxmonkey
Eli is the cryptid of the group. After finding the trolls, aliens, and wizards. He just goes ballistic and tried to find Nessie, Mothman, and the Billycraggle
But Nimue is Nessie so...
Steve and Toby become some weird meme duo. Quoting vines and memes all the time.
Steve and Toby: *shoving Douxie towards Merin* "YOU ARE MY DAD BOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE!!!"
But Jim and Douxie come up with the darkest jokes ever. It's kinda terrifying.
Eli: Wow it's really dark outside!
Douxie: Like my soul and my coffee at 3am
Jim: Like the bathtub
Krel and Claire are the sarcastic ones.
Somebody: *says something*
Claire & Krel automatically: *something sarcastic*
Aja also liking memes but not understanding them would be adorable.
Steve and Toby just keep trying to teach her but she doesn't get it at all
Y'all say Krel wouldn't like Douxie's music, but I think Krel loves all music and would think it was badass if Douxie used his spellcaster guitar in a battle
One time when things get messy, Douxie throws his staff and it turns into a motorcycle, he just jumps on and runs over the bad guys.
Jim in the background: "Vespas are better."
Jim and Douxie proceed to get in a competition about it. Jim wins but only because Douxie lets him.
Toby and Darci, Jim and Claire, and Steve and Aja go on a triple date.
Eli and Krel hide at a different table and watch because they have nothing better to do.
Douxie is their waiter and WON'T LEAVE THEM ALONE
Whenever they have a larger scale battle, everybody counts their kills like Gimili and Legolas in LOTR. Jim, Douxie, and Aja always win except for one time when Eli wins and boasts about it for a week.
One night they have a sleepover and watch shitty action movies till the crack of dawn but it's basically only Douxie is awake and he can't move because all the kids are asleep on top of him.
He loves it though.
Remember we headcanoned that Douxie would break the kids out of jail?
Yeah, they get into jail one time. Call Douxie their brother and they get out. Douxie doesn't condone the children getting into jail, but adores the brother thing.
You know the little forehead bonk that Archie and Merlin did to Douxie in Wizards? Yes, Douxie does it to the kids.
He also calls them moppets.
Jim just cooks a giant family dinner one night and everybody is there. EVERYBODY. The others help with making the dinner, but Jim is not just a master swordsman and they all listen to him.
Gnome Chompsky has another peanut child.
One time Douxie is being angsty (or thinking about Zoe) and Zoe (of course) walk into the room. Douxie panics says some waiter pun then runs away.
Krel finds it and never lets Douxie live it down.
They all go to the mall one time and Steve gets dared to Nurato run throughout the entire place. Steve is banned from Arcadia mall from now on but he says it was worth it.
One time Krel is very bored so he builds a robot that Steve and Toby told him to make it quote memes. (this is an idea from a Voltron post where Pidge makes a robot that quotes vines. And Lotor keeps getting harassed.)
Nobody forgives those three for making that thing.
ARRRGHHH and Toby create a Go-Go Sushi tournament. ARRRGHHH wins.
One time the entire gang goes to Akaridion-5 for a tour. Aja leads it and Varvatos adds GLORIOUS violent commentary.
Aja and Jim enjoy sparring together because SWORDS.
Douxie at one point gets a bow because those fingers of his could absolutely work that. AND MAGIC ARROWS
Everybody calls him Katniss now.
One time everybody is going over to Toby's place and every time somebody comes, Toby opens the door and does the "hi welcome to chilis" vine.
One time Claire and Aja spar and Jim and Steve simp in the background. Krel is facepalming. Douxie won't let them live it down.
Eli swears he saw Mothman one time. Nobody believes him.
Did he see Mothman? You guys can guess.
Either way, this was fun to make. If anybody has any more crazy ideas. REBLOG AND PUT THEM THERE BECAUSE I WOULD LOVE THAT!!
Goodbye.
#TOA#tales of arcadia#douxie#hisirdoux casperan#jim lake jr#claire nunez#toby domzalski#steve palchuk#krel tarron#aja tarron#eli pepperjack#tales of arcadia headcanons#headcanons#alternate universe EVERYTHING IS OKAY AND ROTT DIDN'T HAPPEN#toa headcanons#trollhunters#wizards#3below
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Black, Yellow, Blue, Green, Orange, Pink
...Red
Part 2. Keep an eye on the warnings, and let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters.
Previous | Next
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Warnings: captivity, self-harm (scratching), torture, electric shocks, brainwashing, dehumanization, noncon surgery, guns, gunshot wounds
.
.
They’ve decided that if he’s not repeating their mantra, he doesn’t deserve to talk at all.
The rivets in his arms have grown deeper, have multiplied and spread to his neck and the backs of his hands.
He’s only granted permission to speak when they come back for more, and he’s finally decided to take advantage of it.
He doesn’t even know why he was resisting anymore.
As soon as the electricity cuts off and releases his body, as soon as he can stop screaming, he gives in.
“You are not a Blade.”
“I-I am n-not...not a Blade.”
“You are not a Paladin.”
“I am...am not a P-Paladin.”
“You are not a person.”
“I am not...n-not...a pers-...a person.”
“You are nothing.”
“I a-am nothing.”
“You are worthless.”
“I-I am w-worthless.”
“Again.”
—————————————
Hunk whistles a tune his mother used to sing to him as he batters chicken strips - well, okay, they’re not actually chicken, but they’re from some sort of feathered creature and they taste close enough. Especially once they get dredged in Kaltenecker‘s milk and some kipopi flour with spices from Delpon and dipped in that blue sauce he concocted a while back that tastes almost exactly like ketchup…
Oh, yeah. Dinner tonight is gonna be good.
He’s so caught up in his whistling and preparations that he almost misses someone entering the kitchen. A small shuffled footstep catches his attention, and he whirls around with batter still coating his fingers to see who it is.
He only gets a glimpse of black hair before pain erupts in his gut.
After that the world goes hazy and tips over sideways.
————————————
A new mantra now.
He’s perfected the old one, is able to say it many times through without stumbling, just like they want him to.
It’s easy, once he stops trying to be who he used to be.
Now they don’t even have to hurt him to get him to repeat the words, though they’re always poised and ready, just in case.
“You belong to us.”
“I belong to you.”
“You are a weapon.”
“I am a weapon.”
“Your job is to kill the Paladins.”
“My job is to kill the Paladins.”
“You must not fail.”
“I must not fail.”
————————————
He’s failing.
No, no, he can’t believe that, not yet. He can still make this right. For some reason with both Orange and Yellow, his aim had wavered at the last second. But they will still die, they have to. As long as he ensures none of the other Paladins reach them, his mission will still be complete.
They’ll be angry, of course. He’ll be punished. Perfection is the only option, and he’s been far from perfect. But he can make it right from here on out, he can.
He has to.
————————————
One day, out of the blue, after days on end of repeated beatings and shocks and repetitions of the new phrases, they arrive in his cell and drag him out for the first time, down a hallway and into a room full of medical equipment. He’s shoved face down onto the table in the center, and straps are tightened around all his joints and across his head and chest.
He’s scared. He’s so incredibly scared to find out what’s about to happen. But he knows that there’s absolutely nothing he can do to stop it.
There’s no reason to give him pain medication, of course. He’s not a person. The next thing he knows, something sharp and cold is slicing into the skin on the back of his neck. He cries out, but it’s muffled through the leather on his face.
The procedure is relatively quick. After the cut, something is shoved inside of his neck, and then it’s stitched back up.
He doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t want to know what it is. It can’t possibly be anything good.
The incision itches for days afterwards, but he doesn’t dare touch it.
————————————
“Did you hear that?”
Allura spins around in the middle of the hallway, concern etched into her face. “I heard a strange sound...almost like a blaster.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Pidge shrugs. “You know you Alteans have better hearing than us humans. But if it was a blaster, maybe it was Lance practicing.”
“It did not come from the direction of the training deck. It came from this way…” She starts forward toward the kitchen, dining room, and lounge area of the ship, and Pidge trails along behind her, still mostly engrossed in the coding on her tablet. They don’t make it far, though, before someone steps out into their path.
“Keith!” Allura exclaims, halting. “I did not know that you were here.”
Pidge finally looks up and gives a half wave. “Oh hey, Keith. What brings you here?”
He stares at them for a moment in silence before sucking in a deep breath. “My mission.”
In a flash, he’s raised a blaster and shot Allura in the stomach.
Pidge nearly drops the tablet. “Quiznak! What the -...” Allura is doubling over, dropping in slow motion to the floor, and Keith is still just standing there, blaster trained on her. She doesn’t know who to go to, what to do about either of them. Her heart races in her throat as she stands uselessly and tries to figure out what the heck is going on.
“Keith, what are you -?”
But the gun is pointing at her now, and she fears she’s out of time to decide anything. This can’t really be Keith. There’s nothing of the Keith she knows in this person’s eyes. But then, a flicker, of what, she doesn’t know - guilt? regret? - and his hand starts to shake.
“Keith, please...don’t…”
Her vision whites out at the same time she hears the blaster fire.
#voltron#voltron: legendary defender#voltron whump#keith whump#hurt keith#captivity whump#self harm tw#torture tw#electric shock tw#brainwashing tw#dehumanization tw#noncon surgery#guns tw#gunshot wound tw#Keith#keith kogane#voltron keith#vld keith#voltron hunk#hunk whump#voltron allura#allura whump#voltron fic#voltron fanfic#voltron fanfiction#vld fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#whump#whump writing
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Foolsball
[Alright. I’ve decided I’m going to try and be better about sharing drabbles, ideas and WIPs. I’ve always felt a bit like if the piece isn’t finished, I have nothing to post... but artists post concept sketches all the time, right? ...That’s what I’m telling myself anyway...]
Working Title: Foolsball
Fandom: Defender of the Universe
Status: In-Progress/Incomplete
Working Summary: It’s a self-indulgent fluffy, flirty Dotura beach scene with some slight fourth wall-breaking.
Rating: T
Tags: Lotura, Lotor, Allura, beach date, enemies to friends, flexible fourth wall, the other boys are there too
**
A deep exhale left Allura as her eyelids draped closed. Warm wind brushed against her cheeks and rustled the strands of flyaway hair near her face. The brilliant star overhead beat down perhaps unmercifully in a less tranquil environment; the sands of the beach radiated heat in a way that supplied a natural luxury.
Palms braced behind her as she inclined back marginally, tilting her face to meet the sky, allowing the rays to court her body and warm her skin. So lost in the peaceful atmosphere and the ambient waves as the boys splashed not far up the beach, engaging in some form of chase... or tackle. The brief moments she had studied their sport had left her with more questions than answers. A disc was flung through the air and caught by another player - only to either be chased, tackled, or defended. Sometimes no chase ensued, others yet a pile of space explorers rolling down the beach resulted. She had quickly abandoned her analysis of their rules, content to simply lay among the minute embers under a crystalline sky. So lost in her own moment of bliss, she missed the shadow that passed over her.
At least, until the sand shifted beside her from a redistribution of weight.
"Enjoying the sun, my dear?"
Allura's eyes popped so wide, she nearly blinded herself on the sky overhead. She flinched, immediately tossing up her arm to block the sunlight and tilting her irritated expression toward the only man in all the stars that dared interrupt her meditation.
"What. Do you-"
She froze mid-sentence, blinking in stunned silence at the bare chest of an exceptionally toned warlord. She swallowed heavily.
"...Want," she finished dryly.
Lotor's amused grin only widened at the stammer she covered with a haughty raise of her brow. Casual indifference radiated from her with such ferocity, he could sense the effort it took her to force the nonchalance to the surface.
"If you have nothing to say, I'm busy," she snapped at his silence with a great show of tilting her head skyward once more. Her motion, however, was halted at the gentle touch of two fingers on either side of her jaw.
A rumble of irritation vibrated from her throat unchecked; so subtle Lotor thought he might have been the only one aware of it, and yet she allowed him the courtesy of tilting her head back toward him.
"I have many things I'd like to say to you, if only you would hear them," he mused softly. Allura's confused and incredulous expression turned sharp as her cheeks colored, the full sentiment settling in. With a jerk of her head, she freed her face from his hold, but her gaze didn't waver from his.
"What do you want," she repeated, refusing to be daunted by... whatever he was wearing. She couldn't decide if it looked good on him or not, as she refused to drop her gaze and inspect. Peace was shaky and tenuous at best - the ongoing ceasefire had left the Voltron Force in a strange détente with the Drule forces in the immediate area. Due to some elaborate plot idea Crystal refused to contemplate as it would invariably lead to some kind of proper story she'd have to finish, Allura found herself in the strange, tense company of one crown prince on an uninhabited paradise of a beach planet, while her comrades in flight frolicked down the beach.
Her scowl deepened.
"I merely sought your company," he explained. "And I wanted to check to make sure you were unharmed."
The latter statement brought her up short and her veneer of displeasure fell away. She regarded him with open curiosity, her temper softening at the query.
"I'm fine," she acquiesced after a moment, one palm rubbing her upper arm unconsciously. As seconds rolled by, she fumbled in the awkward silence.
"And you?"
"Sought my company?"
Immediately her temper returned.
"No, of course not! I meant your injuries. Do you... have any? I... I mean, are you alright?"
A thought flickered past his eyes, so fleeting Allura was certain she had missed it before the familiar arrogance settled back in.
Lotor leaned in close, causing the princess to stiffen, but he sought not her lips, but her ear as he whispered against her, as if a secret.
"Tell me, are you worried for me now, dear princess?"
"You brute," she snapped, palms flying up from the towel to slam against his shoulders, sending him toppling away from her. Undaunted, he crashed against the soft sand, sending it spraying up into the air, across her towel and skittering over her bare legs. He casually folded his arms behind his head and grinned playfully as she studiously brushed the grains from her legs, pausing only when she felt his gaze heat.
With mounting dread, Allura tilted her head slowly to glance his way, wary of what she might find as her skin prickled under his attention.
No playful banter graced his voice, nor sound of derision, he merely reclined, watching with deep intent as her fingertips were paused in their dusting, nearly center between her thighs. Innocently, he raised his eyes to meet her frustrated and confused expression, but only offered a knowing smile in answer.
"If you're so worried for my injuries, have a look," he offered, spreading his arms wide on either side.
Allura hastily finished ridding herself of the offending particles and while tossing him a condemning look, she stilled.
"You look. ....Well enough to me," she uttered after a stiff moment of glancing between the beach straight ahead of her and his prone form to her side. Laying on his back. Arms outstretched. Sunlight glinting off a muscled torso. Cords of muscles on his biceps betrayed the lie Merla had whispered in her ear. Black pants glistened slick in the light. She briefly wondered if Drules even entertained the idea of swimwear, or if he had to make do with something he could afford to get wet. Her throat tightened at the thought of the satin-like material clinging once damp.
"Do I?"
His words were low and dark, the traditional arrogance replaced by something a bit more... dangerous... and it wholly snapped Allura from her trance. Immediately, she fixed her attention back on the water straight ahead, making a great show of ignoring the quite large male reclining at her side.
"Yes," Allura answered in a clipped tone, refusing to look his way.
"Ah, does my state of undress cause you discomfort?"
Her lips tightened further. There was no answer she could possibly give him in good faith that would not be met with more mockery.
When she remained silent, Lotor sat up, shifting his weight until he sat beside her. Hip-to-hip, facing the same ocean she did, but not quite touching her frame. He drew his knees toward his chest and folded his arms over them in a similar fashion to her own posture.
"It's a shame," he added after a moment, leaning sideways to speak to her but still neither touching nor looking directly at the princess. "I'm quite fond of what you're wearing."
Crimson flushed her body as she quickly realized that beneath the sheer pink sundress was but her pink bikini.
She could practically feel the humor rolling off of him as he awaited her response, and she startled them both with the only honest one she could give.
"...thank you."
He blinked in surprise before releasing a bark of a laugh that startled Allura and he exhaled before relaxing, content to ease on the decadent torment for the time being. He didn't mean to cause her deep distress; Lotor only found her volatile reactions both charming and fascinating. Often he found himself urging her temper before he even realized what he was doing.
"You're uninjured, though?"
Allura's eyes widened and her body visibly relaxed, allowing her arms to drop back to her lap.
"Yes," she concurred with genuine appreciation, glancing his way once more. She stilled only to find them nose to nose, but she didn't back away. "I find this all a bit strange, don't you? This whole... situation, I mean," she gestured to the spread of white sands and sapphire water, though she looked to neither.
"Do you like it?"
Her brow furrowed for a moment of contemplation.
"I think that I do. The moment of relaxation is nice, and it is a bit of a relief to not be worried about combat at any moment," she added slyly. Another silence fell over them, easy in comfort for once. They basked in the shadow of the other, forms inclined toward the center, and for just a brief, flicker of a moment his lips twitched subtly and Allura could have sworn he would-
A shriek echoed across the beach followed by a splash, causing the princess to jerk back in surprise. It was Lotor's turn to emanate an irritated rumble as she peered around his broad frame at the source of the disruption.
The Voltron Force members were up to their chests in the waves - that is, most were. Keith was starting in disappointment at the water while Pidge sat perched atop Hunk's shoulders, cheering victoriously. After a moment, Lance surfaced, only to be met with a resounding pummeling of water from Keith.
"What do you suppose they're playing now," Allura murmured in wonderment, once more baffled by her best friends and their new engagement.
"Foolsball," Lotor muttered dryly, not bothering to look over his shoulder to them. When Allura continued to watch with fascination as they reset their sport, he unwillingly turned to observe as well.
Hunk had adopted a lowered stance, his weight pitched forward as if in balance. Pidge, still firmly upon his shoulders had his arms outstretched before him in a combat-like stance. Keith, meanwhile, had a face laced with a mix of displeasure and boredom as Lance leaped back onto the commander's shoulders. The balanced duo of Pidge and Hunk seemed far more prepared. Keith wavered slightly as his companion was slightly taller than himself, leaving him with a significantly higher center of gravity than he was used to working with. One prepared, Lance took a similar stance, and Allura watched openly as Pidge and Lance grappled with their hands as Keith and Hunk moved in circles around each other, while trying to maneuver their partner into an advantageous position.
As Lance tossed Pidge into the water and declared victory, Allura sighed in amusement.
"Foolish," Lotor rolled his eyes. "True sport is had with blades and honor."
"I'm not so certain," Allura replied. "That looked... a little fun," she hedged with a shrug. After a second she glanced back to his confused look. "Tell me, do you know any games?" As Lotor began to speak, Allura cut him off quickly. "That don’t involve your coliseum."
He closed his mouth and thought about it for a moment before nodding toward the two teams preparing for another round.
"Are they not warriors?"
Allura couldn't stop the giggle that burst from her chest at the thought.
"I don't think this is quite the same... everyone who starts the game... ends the game," she explained gently. "Alive."
"I've played other sports," he insisted, almost insulted by her insinuation. When she raised her eyebrows, he rolled his shoulders in a manner that was almost diplomatic. Almost. "I'll think of one." At her snort, he turned the question back on her. "And you? What of your games and sports?"
Her mirth quieted and she exhaled once.
"None," she admitted with a reluctant smile, popping her elbow upon her knee and cradling her jaw against her palm.
"None?"
"Prince Lotor," Allura admonished with a nervous laugh. "I didn't exactly have any friends when I was a little girl. It wasn't safe for me to leave the castle. ...I never played. Besides, I had too many studies to do to really be restless. So... I suppose it's-"
Her meandering, shy explanation cut off with a sharp yelp when he roughly grabbed her hand.
Before she could process what was happening, Lotor was on his feet, drawing her up as well and marching across the sand with a princess in tow.
"What are you doing?" Her voice echoed with scandal, but she trailed behind him with no other objection.
"To play Foolsball," he announced proudly.
"I don't think it's actually called..."
Her words left her lips the same instant the blood left her face as she realized how the partner positioning was structured in the sport her friends engaged in.
Oh, oh dear.
"Lotor, really, I-"
"Voltron Force!"
His bark drew the men up short and they scowled at the approaching Drule.
"What do you want," Lance glared at the prince with a wary look.
"We challenge you."
"We? Who's 'we'?" Keith would've folded his arms over his chest, had he not been bracing Lance on his shoulders.
At his question, Allura peeked around Lotor's arm.
"Hello boys," she whispered, entirely uncertain of the sudden situation she found herself.
"A challenge to what exactly," Hunk queried skeptically. He was the first to notice that the prince did not carry a weapon on him, though no one missed the way his hand clutched Allura's wrist.
"Listen, you take your hands off of her," Keith began. He turned to face Lotor fully, allowing Lance to fall off his shoulders and into the water as he cut a path toward them. In answer, Lotor did as the commander asked, raising both his bare palms up, allowing Allura's wrist to fall free.
"We want to challenge you in your sport. As a team," he added, a grin quirking at his lips. "Surely you must find those terms agreeable, Commander?"
"I - Princess? Surely you don't want any part of this."
Allura shrugged shyly, studiously avoiding Lotor's gaze upon her.
"You boys did look like you were having fun," she hedged carefully. "But we don't want to intrude, you clearly have enough people."
"Nonsense," Lotor interjected before thrusting his index finger toward Keith. "We challenge you."
#lotura#lotor#allura#voltron#dotu#defender of the universe#crystal writes#drabble#wip#fluff#fic#fanfic#i warned you it was incomplete#yeah thats all I got so far#and yep thats a busted fourth wall#because I was afraid to Plot too much
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Fic Writer Meme
I was tagged by @thou-breath-of-autumns-being and @eldritch-elrics. Answers under the cut.
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
135
2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?
387198
3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?
There’s 22 of them, using a sensible-ish count. There’s Age of Sigmar, MCU, Dragon Age, Dragonshield (yes, the card sleeves), Dungeons and Dragons, Fire Emblem Awakening, Fire Emblem Three Houses, Guild Wars 2, Warhammer 40k, Heaven Will Be Mine, We Know The Devil, Keychain of Creation, Overwatch, Revolutionary Girl Utena, The Adventure Zone, The Magnus Archives, Silmarillion, Undertale, Voltron, TGCF, MDZS, Nirvana in Fire
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
‘The Heat Talking’ - Overwatch omegaverse. It’s popularity is very explicable :P.
‘A Stained Glass Variation of The Truth’ - Xianle Trio sickfic, featuring Mu Qing have a lot of feelings about looking after Xie Lian. This is one of the ones where I look at it’s popularity and go “[nods] my audience has Good Taste.”
‘Let Bastion Say ‘Fuck’‘ - Overwatch crackfic. I wrote for Overwatch a while ago. Those fics are very much not my best work. And Yet.
‘though shadows fall’ - TGCF HuaLian post nightmare hurt/comfort. (which reminds me, I should really write some HuaLian post nightmare hurt/comfort where Hua Cheng is the one who has a nightmare.)
‘All That Can Be Done’ - Overwatch Genyatta angst featuring Zenyatta dying of a God AI virus.
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
I try to, I really do, but... if I reply, the comment no longer shows up on the ao3 homepage. I do intend to reply, but the lure of having comments on my homepage wins out most times.
6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?
Probably either ‘All That Can Be Done’, the aforementioned fic where Zenyatta dies of a God AI virus and gets killed by Genji, or ‘Always Neater In Morality Plays’ where Sazed successfully poisons and kills Taako.
7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?
I don’t really write much crossover fanfiction?
...Though I am right now doing an rp featuring a character from a historical tv show set in the Tang dynasty accidentally time travelling into an AU version of the Handmaid’s Tale, so, uh, that’s probably the wildest crossover I’ve been involved in.
8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?
Yes. I’ve received a few “you’re characterisation is bad and you should feel bad” and “how dare you write something to your tastes and not my tastes!”
‘Always Neater In Morality Plays’ got a... bad reaction. Including a popular blogger vague posting about in a way that made it obvious exactly what fic it is and how grody they found it. They may not have linked the fic directly, but, uh, everyone knew. (And I may have also sent an ill-advised ask along the lines of ‘you have the right to vagueblog whatever fic you like, but for the love of peace could you at least check who is following you, so you don’t put ‘oh god, isn’t this fic the creepiest thing ever?’ straight onto the dash of the author?” And also a chunk of the TAZ fandom blocked me*.
And then several years later I found out ‘snuff’ meant something different than what I thought it meant (I thought it just meant ‘focus on major character death!) which added an embarassing glace cherry on top of that sundae of bad.
*This became sort of funny when some of these people got into the Magnus Archives. “Oh, so you draw the line at graphic depictions of poisoning, but someone exploding into a shower of worms is fine???”
9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?
I do, yes. As for what kind-- well, my ao3 exists and is a relatively comprehensive survey.
10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Nooooot to my knowledge?
11. Have you ever had a fic translated?
No, but if anyone wants to-- [makes ‘call me’ gesture].
12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
No, not yet. I’d be potentially interested in doing one, maybe one of those ones where one person writes one chapter and then another person writes the next. At the moment I have a friend who is also interested in maybe doing that, we just don’t currently align on fandoms.
13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?
[whine] Don’t make me choose between my babies!
14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?
‘A Shattered Angel And A Broken Fist’. It was one of the earlier fics I wrote, back before I learned that if I wanted to write something long, I needed to have an idea of how it was going to end. I lost momentum and now... I honestly have no clue what should happen next? I have re-read and gone “yep, some stuff should happen. Not sure what stuff.” So while a lot of people like it and it would be nice to finish, its probably not happening.
15. What are your writing strengths?
Hmm, I think I’m reasonably good at dialogue? I’m honestly not sure what my strengths are. I don’t mean this in a low self confidence way, more that I know I don’t have an outside perspective on my writing, and like a fish, I’m not super aware of the water I’m swimming in.
16. What are your writing weaknesses?
I have a bad habit of people have conversation in Blank Windowless Voids of No Description.
I also have a less bad habit of trying to fill those voids with a) geology and b) Australian fauna and flora. This causes problems when the pov character has no reason to know geology, and the story is not set in Australia.
17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
I am one of those people who pretty much only speaks English, except for the a bit of “Je m’appelle Wolffy. Le chat est petit.” So I don’t write dialogue in other languages. Too much risk of embarrassing error, for not much gain, when you can just use italics or something.
I do have a lot of thoughts about translation conventions in fic where the characters would not be speaking English, and things like whether to live honoriffics. The thoughts are a bit unformed, but mostly revolve around being consistent at least within a fic (no characters being “Your Highness” in one paragraph and “dianxia” the next), trying to avoid the affect you sometimes find in anime fics were every third word is in Japanese, and also trying to maintain character voice. (I occaisionally have moments of “yes, there is an English translation for what this character calls this other character, but it’s not what they canonically say and it’s going to bother me deeply if I only use English.”)
18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?
Depending on how you define ‘fandom’ and how you draw the line between historical fiction and historical rpf, my first fandom was the Bagoas fandom. Not the Bagoas what followed Alexander the Great around, no, the vizier who was around before him.
...I was like twelve at the time, just to make this weirder.
19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?
[whines harder] don’t make me pick between my babies!
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First Scent
-
Summary: Emperor Lotor makes a full recovery.
-
★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing.
★ Warnings: N/A
Touch Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five
Taste Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five
Sight Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five
Scent Series: Part One
-
“We are all on the same side. It doesn’t have to change our future together.”
Kylan would never dare consider doubting Lotor, but he was also no fool to leave loose ends hanging, so to speak. He worked along with their leader and his intentions - his goal - was always about keeping Alteans and the invaluable culture of said race alive. Against all odds, all naysayers and doubters, he kept to it. And he succeeded.
“You enslaved countless Alteans! How many innocent lives did you destroy?!”
Slaves? No. They were not slaves. They were not treated as such. If anything, they were flourishing and well on their way to becoming a better society than the one led by King Alfor. The progress was well on the way and the future looked bright. So, what happened? He needed to hear it, needed to have the physical evidence right in front of him.
“Surely, you can see the greatness we’ve already accomplished -”
The audio distorted then, signifying Sincline was most likely damaged from an unsuspecting attack.
“-llura, stop! You and I - zzt - Altean culture. We were meant - kkzzt -”
The black box was heavily damaged. Being exposed to the elements, especially quintessence, no doubt rendered it beyond repair. Except, Kylan knew how to save the proof and secure the device for future use. Plan B. Have a backup. Always have a back up.
“You’re more like Zarkon than I could have imagined.”
He closed his eyes slowly, releasing a solemn and heavy sigh of disappointment. He wasn’t going to say he knew everything, even if the hidden picture was revealed right in front of him. No, what he has here ultimately didn’t matter in terms of putting Lotor back on the throne.
“Who are you to question my tactics - “
But it was enough to clear his name. It was enough to show that Voltron started a whole new, deadly, and severely costly war by attacking the Emperor.
*
They had suggested putting him in a pod to stabilize his quintessence levels. Lotor’s soul may have returned, but that doesn’t mean his body was in a relatively safe state. Logically, it made sense to use the technology at hand to quicken the process, but you convinced them to keep him on a bed instead. Convinced was putting it lightly. You wouldn’t move on your decision, even if it meant using logic as a tool to get what was best for Lotor.
“I will siphon it from him, as I do with the other patients,” you explained, “It’s safer this way.”
It was your reasoning and also what you used to convince yourself, too. Your hand was loosely holding his as the steady flow of quintessence ebbed through the contact. When he had collapsed from exhaustion in your arms, you already knew that a confined space wouldn’t do well for his recovery. He needs to wake up naturally in a comforting environment, somewhere open, somewhere...safe. You promised him that at the very least.
But the longer you stayed with him, the more you came to the haunting realization at exactly how bad it was for the Galra Emperor. His skin was shriveled, no doubt either from over exposure or the action of his soul literally being sucked out of his body. Maybe even both. But the inside is what worried you the most. Starvation. His organs were scarily dehydrated. Lotor’s system was off for so long, you weren’t sure he could even eat anything nourishing.
And, oddly enough, there were times you couldn’t...see him as a patient. You saw him as something more, something beyond just Emperor. Allowing those buried thoughts to unfurl left your stomach stirring in uneasiness.
Lotor wasn’t talkative. Recovery was slow and, sometimes, he barely woke up long enough to sip water or open his mouth for ice chips. You weren’t even sure if he was coherent enough to answer the typical questions for patients who experienced such acute delirium. Do you know who you are? Where you are? What happened?
No. No, overflowing with too much would stunt his progress. Plus, you often found yourself hesitating to even speak with him. Maybe it was wrong of you to take advantage of his illness to push your own discomfort away. If he didn't ask, you don’t need to answer. But there were urgent questions lingering between you two and you know they will come around to rear its ugly head eventually. You’ll have to face them, whether you like it or not. You’ll have to hear what he has to say. What you’ll say. What you’ll feel.
But...
Lotor first. Your thumb ran over his knuckles softly, gaze longingly focused on your conjoined hands. Lotor first. That’s how it felt like when trapped in Sincline’s…
*
The Black Paladin has seen many haunting horrors in his life, but nothing will be more traumatic than seeing his own body as a corpse. No...his alternate self was alive, he just looked shriveled and sick and rotten. Sunken eye sockets, skin blemishes from what he knows as quintessence burn. The bite marks, oh, there were so many torn in his suit. Different sizes, different states of decay.
But he was safe and, more importantly, alive. Now, the matter of what state his mind will be in is something not even he can help with.
“I will pass the message on to the doctor once Emperor Lotor is in stable condition,” Kylan accepted the letter handed to him by the Black Paladin then carefully slid it into his coat pocket, “Thank you, again. You have done us a great honor. Saved us all, actually.”
Yet, as much as he would like to accept such gratefulness, he couldn't help but keep his lips set in a firm line. Saved them? Or condemned them? This war in his reality wasn’t theirs to deal with, but wouldn’t it be just as neglectful and dispassionate to allow the hoktril to be exposed to other realities? A double edged sword. Damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.
“I only hope that his return was not too late. Unfortunately, time does not appear to be on our side as of late.”
Kylan nodded in agreement, “You have your duties, we have ours. And yours must be urgent if you need to leave so soon.”
Nebulous orbs slowly closed, easily remembering the scribble he quickly jotted down for your eyes only. A message, a dire one, explaining why his leave of absence was absolutely necessary, but not for the reason anyone would assume. The Black Paladin had received a distress call, one he had not heard from in a very, very long time, and he had every intention to answer it. Sven’s voice rang in his ears clearly, as if he was standing right behind him. His hushed whispers panicked from hiding. He knows the tone well.
“I implore you to use the communication stone with utmost discretion. However, as soon as matters have settled here,” Paladin Lotor gave a wave, a vague gesture at all of this, “Let me know when your forces are ready to fight.”
He gave a noble, respectful bow. He shouldn’t have regrets, but perhaps he had one nagging the back of his head. Chewing on his tongue, he wonders if it was his cowardice that told him it was better to leave without telling you face to face.
*
If there was one thing Emperor Lotor despised about hospitals, it was the smell. The acute, sanitized scent of alcohol and sterilization never brought him comfort when awake. Even now, during every odd moment he would rouse from a deep comatose-like state, he found it absolutely much worse. The air was cold, chilling his nostrils, yet there was a warm blanket covering most of his body, all the way up to his shoulders. Warmth...something he cherishes now that he had the cold touch of death’s finger beckon his soul from his body.
It took days for him to realize he was alive, longer to know that the doctor had dutifully tended to his recovery. It wasn’t easy, regaining his senses and awareness. His thoughts were slow, as if relearning everything that which went dormant in his mind. Words, thoughts, actions, feelings. Feelings...like your hand gently clutched in his. Not at all unlike that memory of falling in a pit of darkness, tethered by the mere simple contact of entwined fingers.
And damn, to remember that utopia-esque simulation. Was it a simulation? It all felt too real. Too perfect, too...happy, one he thinks he will never really get to experience ever again. That love, that peaceful life, that completion. At the time, he didn't question it. Who would? But now, now as you read the holographic screen and scanned the details about his vitals in silence, he has so many to ask you.
Was it a hedonistic crime to still feel that inkling of love as he stared fondly at you?
Or maybe...that was just a lingering side-effect. A sort of after-high from being forced into an addictive drug-induced state of mind from a mere memory.
You knew he was awake. Lotor made it clear with his silent shifting, a gentle squeeze of his hand in yours, and a slight, almost quiet, groan of discontent when he felt his body ache in the worst possible ways. Part of him would've chuckled at the thought that maybe you were avoiding him, or rather, avoiding looking at him. Then another part would caution that it was wise of you to do so, for both yours and his sake.
Maybe, just like him, neither of you were ready to ask questions about the intimate life you shared. Maybe if he kept his mouth shut, both of you can pretend it didn’t happen. It was a trick. A ruse, a test. One conjured deep from within the heart’s desires and brought to the surface without warning or care.
The light above was dimmed in a cool blue hue, offering him a sense of peace and tranquility, but what really helped calm his nerves was the smell of a warm cup of hot chocolate wafting through the air. A promised treat, giving him the freedom to choose if he wanted to drink or simply hold it in his hands. And yet, he didn't reach for it.
Lotor reached for your hand. You gave it willingly, almost instinctively, and he was quite aware of how his heart beat just a little louder at the gesture. Lotor wasn’t sure he liked that or not. Well, he did, but he shouldn't. He really shouldn't because it was wrong to harbor such feelings for you considering the circumstances. But the heart wants. The heart yearns.
Lotor can control it. He swears he can.
So many unspoken words between you two, yet silence was clearly winning here. Then again, he can’t complain too much. Or at all, really. Your thumb slowly roving over his knuckles was nearly entrancing. The simple touch made his body compliant, whether because it was you or because the action itself was an unconscious act on its own, he would never find out.
You stopped suddenly then gave him a light squeeze, “How are you feeling?”
“I’ll be…” he paused, recalling how he felt when falling out of that cockpit, the panic, the pain, the cold, so, so cold, “fine.”
And while normally, those few words would be firm confirmation that you’ve done your job flawlessly well, you can’t help but let your heart seed doubt in your mind.
“And you, good doctor?”
Was he asking about your health or how you felt coming out of that life-like experience?
You twisted your wrist, closing the holographic screen before giving him your full attention, “Coming back to life is not what I expected, but neither was dying. It was different than-”
A twinge in your shoulder pulsed, reminding you of the last time you danced with death so romantically.
“I recovered faster than you. Kylan informed me i was gone for a mere few minutes. Clearly not long enough for all the heat to leave my body, but long enough to give him a fright.”
Lotor had a certain look behind his eyes, a certain longing for the truth. You turned away.
*
It’s been a week. The metaphorical wall was back up. But it wasn't just you that decided avoidance was the best course of action for now. He, too, opted to shove those unanswered questions in the back of his mind as far as he could. Lotor only wondered exactly how long he can let it fester. How long you could let it fester. Maybe the two of you were more alike than you want to admit.
When the deepest, most intimate, most raw secrets and desires surface, that exposed vulnerability suddenly becomes a dangerously choking weak point. Becomes something to fear. Becomes tangible and no longer yours to hide. But to acknowledge such a thing now? What? Were you two going to sit and talk about it? Have a coffee date and reminisce of those fake nights of feeling safe in each other’s arms?
No. It was much easier, much smarter, to stay focused on the goal. It was more important.
Was it awkward? Not at all. You dressed him in silence with careful fingers, wary that the lightest of touch could bruise his still-healing body, and he watched the concentration consume your task. Such a simple thing spoke volumes to the careful observer. Lotor was the patient. You were the doctor. Play the roles well and everything will be fine.
But just to be sure…
“We are not going to talk about this, are we?” he asked his one question, voice just a tad lower than normal, meant only for you to hear.
Slipping the new bracelet around his wrist, you waited a few moments until the indicator glowed green, “No. Not now.”
Lotor’s hands went slack at his side, a sign of obedient understanding. He offered his hand to you, not as a gesture of intimacy. It was for his health, of course. His quintessence levels were still a little high. He was sick, still out of sorts, and a full recovery only worked if kept to schedule.
For his health, you told yourself as the two of you walked out of the room hand in hand.
*
“Dear Esteemed Doctor,
By the time you receive this letter, I will no longer be in your reality. I have been called back with urgent news and must return post haste. Please accept my humblest apologies for the sudden leave. If I had the time, I would have stayed to offer you my aid at any cost. With your Emperor under your care, I have no doubt that the next step with our alliance will be needing as much resources and command as possible. Rallying the forces as soon as possible will be difficult, though if there is any advice I may impart with, it is this:
Galra are survivors, through and through.
When civil wars raged upon our brothers and sisters, history has repeatedly shown that it is not the toughest fighter who wins. Rather, it is the one who fights to protect the one at their side.
I look forward to seeing you once more in the near future. Please, stay safe.
Sincerely,
Lotor”
His handwriting was eloquent, not a curve or line extending awkwardly in the entire paragraph. At first glance, anyone would take in the script as romantic at face value, but the prose itself was completely opposite. He wasn’t here anymore and, as the Black Lion Paladin, of course the he had to tend to his duties. With Voltron, no doubt a shining beacon of hope for those suffering in his reality, he couldn't risk squandering his time.
You folded the letter then pocketed it in your coat, waiting for orders from Emperor Lotor, who was sitting at the helm of the ship and staring deeply off into space. Kylan had updated him about the current situation. Colonies displaced, warlords razing worlds for their own, Haggar’s search for him. That last one put him on edge. Yes, he’s well aware you worked for her, but he is also aware of your need for self-perseverance.
Or perhaps, it was for a completely different reason? If Sincline utilizes memories from souls, then he should’ve seen his mother’s memories mixed in yours, as well. Assuming, of course, you were brainwashed like his previous...
Lotor isn't such a naive fool to believe you would never lie in the face of certain death. He caught on faster than expected, knowing full well that sometimes telling people what they want to hear is for your own benefit, not theirs. Manipulation was often a tactic swept under the rug and reserved for those who were labeled as cowardice rats. Weak. Not strong enough. Not smart enough.
No. Not you, though. In the short time he’s known you, words were your choice of weapon in a fight. And apparently, his mother was desperate enough to fall for your schemes. One day, he’d compliment you on such a ruse. One day, he’ll tell you that she was actually the one who gave birth to him. How would you take it, he wonders? Anger at leaving the minor details out? Distrust? Betrayal?
“-of Marmora have gone underground. There has been news of Voltron recently en route to Earth months ago in response to Sendak’s battalion overthrowing the planet. Olkarion has been devastated by unknown forces and survivors have been scattered. Currently, no one has claimed the throne at the main headquarters and the next crowning ceremony will begin in but a few short weeks. Many separated factions are - “
Lotor had options. Many paths he could take to begin repairing the split and broken empire. He could free planets that were overtaken by warlords, spreading hope and securing rogue armies. No, that was what Voltron did and they failed to protect those they promised. Perhaps return to headquarters then declare his status as alive? He will certainly have more resources at his hand then. But no, Haggar and her spies would discreetly sabotage his throne.
Recruit the scattered Alteans? No, he doesn’t have the forces necessary to defend them all right now. They were safer with their captains, fortified with the necessary firepower and supplies. What of the Blades of Marmora? Should he spend valuable time searching for them? Their espionage skills will be most beneficial, especially with their network of spies spread out all over the universe. Then again, what about Voltron?
What about Voltron, indeed.
In truth, Voltron had more use as a gun than anything else. Perhaps there were still people faithful that it was their savior, their answer to all this despair and death in the galaxy. Yes, he could save them. That fight when he was piloting Sincline showed him where Voltron’s strength truly lies: as a false ray of hope. It was weak, in more ways than one.
However, the problem with saving Voltron would confuse many people. If he were to align with them again, that would leave many to doubt his role as a leader and the Emperor of the Galra Empire. He would lose support in the time of need and Voltron itself wasn't good enough to go around. He needed numbers and he would take a loyal military over a disillusioned vigilante any day.
A conundrum, indeed.
“Doctor, Kylan. A moment of your time, please.”
The Emperor ordered the rest of the crew around to give you three some much needed privacy. You stood at his left, Kylan at his right, both in silence. It was no surprise that just like Lotor, you were already calculating what the best course of action would be. Or at least, the best without risking potential deaths and destruction.
“Sir, rallying the Blades would greatly help connect our network with those still loyal to the throne. Although it may take some valuable time to search for their leader and the rest of their members,” Kylan took a deep breath before continuing, “We simply do not have the power alone to protect the Colony and the entirety of the universe, let alone the upcoming war with the other reality.”
Lotor glanced at you from the corner of his eye, awaiting your input. While Kylan’s plan was sound, he couldn't afford to make a hasty decision so soon.
“Sendak has taken over Earth, where Voltron currently resides. I don’t know the lore following the mech, whether the pilots need to be dead before the lions accept a new paladin, but leaving a nuclear cannon that can rip holes into other realities is not something we should leave to a power-hungry warlord. Find out if the paladins are alive. If they are, fight Sendak with both Voltron and Sincline on your side.”
“And if they are not?” the Emperor asked, partly curious about how you would react to your friends dying and partly curious as to why Earth, the one place you didn't want to return to, was even an option you’d consider.
“If not, then…” you trailed off, “If not, steal one of the lions. Voltron cannot be formed without all 5 pieces together. At the very least, it will prevent Sendak from using it to its full potential, regardless if he has located new paladins.”
“Stealing requires stealth. Something the Blades can provide,” Kylan interjected.
“A distraction works just as well. Drawing Sendak’s eyes off of Earth, even for a short time, will give us a small chance to enact our plan,” you countered, then placed a finger on your lips in thought, “If Sincline can attack his battalion, that’s more than enough attention to keep Sendak on a trail.”
Lotor found both plans sound, but there was a small problem, “Sendak will not take the bait. He fights with the ferocity of a thousand suns, but he views a proper battle for the throne as an honor. To taunt him to fight me, use my status as alive in order to claim rights over the empire is not how he views righteous combat.”
“You are the Emperor. If strength is not what determines loyalty, then perhaps it is better to show him with fealty and duty.”
You knew little to nothing about Galra culture, but that letter folded in our pocket did tell you one thing: Galra are not savages. Their history goes beyond blood and guts and gore. It’s a mystery you hope to read about one day, discover how wise veterans compare to the current warriors of the Empire. If what Lotor says is true, then maybe one of the strongest warlords in the galaxy will yield to the rightful emperor.
“Very well. Here is my thought: Kylan and I will send for a search party to locate the Blades of Marmora. They will need this ship and I will not risk the Alteans on board near Sendak’s sights. While we are carrying out our side of the plan, doctor, you will go to Earth and infiltrate the military base as a slave. Give us the details of where the lions are and generally pass on the intel about what is going on. Because you are human, I would imagine it would be quite a simple task for you to blend in,” Lotor bit the inside of his cheek, “Blend in carefully. You are going into the mouth of the beast, after all. From there, we go either two ways: take a lion or confront Sendak. I will leave that judgement up to you, doctor.”
“It’s risky. I don’t suppose you know how long it would take for you two to find the Blades?” you questioned, though already knowing the answer.
Kylan pinched the bridge of his nose, “No. We are not even sure if the Blades still exist. If that be the case, then we should have a back up plan.”
“Regardless of how this turns out, doctor, we will need updates about Voltron and Sendak. Can you handle this on your own?” came Lotor’s final question, but there was a hint of...concern visible in his tone.
Earth, the place you were born in. Earth, the place you left behind for good. Earth, the place soon to be used as a slavery planet for Sendak’s militaristic needs. You’re not heartless. You don’t like the idea of death and destruction on any planet. And that’s what Earth was to you, after spending so many years away, it was just another planet. The attachments you had all died with your father.
For what reason did you have to keep any ties with the land? This was for the safety of the universe and much more.
“Yes. yes, I can. Just don’t leave me behind if things take a turn for the worst.”
Again.
*
There was a knock at your door, drawing you to pause from packing what little belongings you had into a rucksack.
“Come in.”
And so he did, all of his tall glory stepping into your meager room. Bland, plain, empty and void of sentimentality. Lotor wonders faintly if you lived your entire life like this, with little color and even littler personality. It looked remarkably like the room back on the Castle of Lions. The door behind him closed slowly, but he had no intention of leaving soon anyways.
“Was there something important I missed?”
Lotor stayed silent, watching you and trying to think of how to exactly say his thoughts. He was a man of action when the time was right and right now? Part of him was choking at the very thought of you being alone on a planet ruled by Sendak. His heart screamed at him when he suggested the plan, calling him a fool, an idiot, a bastard that keeps risking those he loves -
No. No, it wasn't love. He had to remind himself that. It was NOT love.
If it wasn't, then why did you come here?
Wordlessly, he bent over to unclasp his boots and pile them neatly by your door. Next came his gloves, followed by his waist cape, and then the rest of his armor until he was standing before you in nothing but his skin-tight body suit. The entire time, you watched in silence with only the beating of your heart getting louder and faster in your chest.
The heart wants. The heart yearns.
“May I stay here tonight?” he asked, but surely he already knew you would say yes. Surely he did. Surely you would.
With a soundless nod, you slipped off your coat then hung it up, just for tonight. Not a doctor, not a soldier, not fighting, not running. Just...being. Existing. Like when trapped inside Sincline’s simulation, except this will be real. Was it okay to do that one more time?
Lotor slipped under the sheets with you, trapping you between the wall and his solid frame. He was never one to call himself a man who hesitates, but he did exactly that when he cautiously slid an arm over your waist to pull you closer. Closer still, until his chest was flushed with your back and his nose nuzzled the top of your head. This let him take in your scent, as if trying to burn it in his memories.
That’s when it clicked. As much as part of you wanted this, you needed it. You both did, after cheating death together. The way he held you tight. The way you leaned into him. He was … scared, just like you. There was no certainty you would not be killed, nor him surviving the trek to find the Blades. You two just found each other again and, while your partnership before wasn't deemed as together, as someone to fight alongside the other, the idea of being separated so soon started to leave an uneasy tension in the air.
There were other ways. More safer, less isolating. He could come with you. Or you can stay with him. Strength in numbers, right?
Oh, where did the confidence go?
Gentle fingertips touched over his knuckles, asking permission to hold, to thread together and seal an unspoken vow between you two. A promise that you can do this, that he will find the Blades, that everything so far is only the beginning and it will work out in the end. It was two simple words. Just two.
Trust me.
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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid 192
192
Holding Keith’s hand in public felt nice. Walking from the hotel to the restaurant, Lance found himself watching families of all types as they walked. He couldn’t help it. A smile coming to his lips as he watched kids nag their parents, or listened to them as they played. His hand sitting on his stomach while his mind substituted the kids for their twins, and the parents as Keith. Keith would be such a good dad. He absolutely knew that for certain. He’d worried when Keith had spent most of the night sleepless, the walk seeming to invigorate him as it wore away Keith’s energy. Keith needed his coffee pronto, lest a server cop his boyfriend’s uncaffeinated anger loaf rage.
Leading Keith into the restaurant, it had a kind of rustic charm. Heavy oak logs made the walls, with all kinds of memorabilia stuck to the walls, including a giant stuffed fish with a plaque that red “Billy Bass”. It appealed to his tacky side in all the right ways. Sending Keith to find a seat, his boyfriend slouched off to throw himself into the only available booth. Lance giving a shake of his head affectionately. He really loved that cranky werewolf. Waddling over to the counter, he forced himself to remember to look and act like a girl. Keith didn’t know he was terrified of the same kind of comments made at the petting zoo being repeated. This trip had to go as well and as smoothly as it could. Picking up the menu, he knew instantly he wanted more than pancakes. Everything smelt vaguely appealing, and Keith would eat like there was no tomorrow.
“What can I do you for, darling?”
Jumping at being unexpectedly talked to, the woman behind the counter cackled at him
“Sorry, love! I didn’t think you’d be lost in thought over a menu”
Lance flashed a smile, careful of his teeth. He kind of wished he’d worn a set of glasses. The more he stood in the restaurant, the more he heard and the bigger the world suddenly seemed to be
“Sorry, everything sounds so good I’m not sure where to begin”
The woman chuckled
“I remember those feelings. How many you got in there?”
“Two. I guess I do look pretty big”
“And carrying low, you’ll be in labour no time, love. Now. What do think?”
No. Nope. No labour for him. Not unless he was comfortably set up at VOLTRON... he’d hold his legs together for as long as possible if their twins dared to think of coming this soon
“I think I’m famished. Can I please order two sets of pancakes and two sets of the bacon breakfasts? Ooooh, and I’ll grab a fruit salad, two of the largest coffees you have, aaaand... I think I’ll have a green tea latte... and a fruit salad. Yeah, that’s all, thank you... oh! Do you guys have soy milk? I don’t want to gas my boyfriend”
The woman behind the counter ogled him fo a moment, shaking her head and laughing again
“I don’t know where you’re going to fit all that... We have soy, almond, and regular. None of that skin stuff”
Lance blushed. He couldn’t help that he didn’t exactly know what he felt like, but food seemed like an amazing idea
“It’s for me and my partner. Soy will be fine, thanks”
The woman slapped his arm gently with the back of her hand
“I know that, love. Just an old woman teasing”
“You don’t look that old”
She looked about the age he should look... her name tag reading “Dae”, the white tag almost lost in the red of her bright red shirt
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. Now, darling, cash or card?”
“Card please”
The woman rang up there largish breakfast bill. Lance paying as he was trapped into small talk
“So, love. Are you here for our Easter markets? Or you one of those passing through?”
“Oh, my boyfriend and I are spending a few days here. We’re meeting up with some friends”
The woman printed him a receipt without him asking
“I’m sure you’ll find this quite boring compared with the cities around here, but we have own charm. Now, can I get a name for this order?”
He’d been prepared for that. He’d made kind of a mental story for himself. He and his photographer boyfriend were driving up, stopping in small towns as Keith built up a portfolio in the hopes of turning to selling prints online
“Lancella... my, uh, parents were hoping for a boy”
“I’m sure they love you at any rate. We can’t help our names. You go take a load off and I’ll bring your coffee over. Take my advice, love, take a look at the markets while you’re here. They really are something else”
“Awesome. We might just take your advice. Thank you”
Siding, barely, into the booth opposite Keith, Keith was glaring at the menu in his hands. Tugging it free, his boyfriend huffed as Lance set the menu back into its holder
“Your coffee’s coming”
“Good”
Keith should have perked up at the thought of coffee. The scent was strong enough that Lance’s stomach was threatening to turn traitor right there at the booth
“Babe?”
“It’s nothing. You looked like you were having a good conversation, Lancella”
Lance rolled his eyes at the name
“I’m a simple man. The best lies have a kernel of truth in them”
“It pisses me off that you have to lie. You’re you. If people don’t like that, they can go play in traffic”
There was his grumpy little anger loaf. He’d also realised something that was likely to make Keith grumpier
“You can’t just put them in traffic. You know, we’re going to be in trouble”
Keith sighed deeply
“What for now?”
“I’m starving... and all that food has to come back up. Plus, apparently I’m going to pop soon”
Scowling at him, Keith sat back and crossed his arms. His voice firm and joke free
“There’s no way you’re allowed to even think about giving birth in this crappy town. Don’t even think about going into labour”
Sometimes it was scary how in tune they were. He didn’t want to give birth here, yet he couldn’t hate this town
“I don’t know. This town isn’t that crappy. This is the town you were born in and you’re not crappy. Maybe crabby... but not crappy”
“You’re fucking hilarious”
Lance shot his boyfriend double finger guns
“I try. But seriously, I’m starving...”
He’d also forgotten to do his shots before leaving the hotel room. Keith coming out with the bath mat around his waist had driven away the thought. His boyfriend hadn’t questioned why he’d packed heavier than usual. There was a whole suitcase of towels and bedding, waiting to be unpacked. His new plan was that after breakfast they’d unpack a little more, and he’d look up the directions to the cemetery where Keith’s dad was buried. The vampire knew his own pain from having now lost both his parents, yet that was nothing compared to Keith losing his dad at such a young age. Making the comparison seemed really shitty and like it lorded the fact Lance had had his parents for so long, that’s why he’d never say it out loud.
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the coffee and the latte. Keith sliding both mugs towards him as Lance thanked “Dae”. Wrapping his hands around his cold drink, there was kind of a happy peacefulness as Keith took his first sip of coffee. This was nice. Them having no real schedule. Not rushing around. Kind of on a date, but not at the same time...
“Stop staring”
Chuckling, Lance moved his hand up to take the straw between his fingers, stirring his latte as continued to stare
“What are you going to do if I don’t?”
Kicking him under the table, that was Keith’s great comeback
“Really, babe?”
“Fuck you. Fight me”
It’d be soon long since he’d heard that one. The second they found out he was carrying, he had to behave himself and training went out the window
“I could beat you, but we both know you’d liked it”
Delivering the words slowly and purposely, Lance succeeded in making Keith choke on his coffee. Placing the mug down, his boyfriend coughed into his hand
“Fuuuuck...”
“Still want to fight me?”
“Keep this up and I’ll beat your arse so hard you won’t be able to walk for a month”
“Do you promise?”
On the back of choking on his coffee, Keith choked on air. His hand fanning his face as he shook his head
“You deserve to be punched in the dick for that”
“Nah. You love me too much for that”
“God. I fucked that one up”
Lance knew Keith was teasing, yet he felt himself automatically tear up. Apparently he could dish it, but his ego was too much of a diva to take it. Dropping his gaze to his drink, he felt awful for how he’d reacted
“Babe?”
“It’s nothing”
“You know I love you, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I guess my hormones are being silly. It’s ridiculous”
Keith wisely decided not to agree with him, changing the topic
“What did you order?”
Raising his head again, Lance shot him that fake smile that hadn’t come out in so long that he wasn’t sure he was doing it right
“Pancakes. Eggs, tomatoes, bacon, sausages, and fried onion. Coffee for you. Tea for me, and fruit salad”
“You think that’s enough?”
Now he was feeling self conscious over how much he wanted to scarf down his food
“I figured you’d eat what I didn’t...”
Keith playfully kicked him under the table again
“Great. Now I’m the garbage disposal unit”
Shit. Why had his mood plummeted so much? Now it had, his ego was getting riled up. He was starting to feel vulnerable over being pregnant and into a strange place, where people he didn’t know could easily target him, or Keith. He couldn’t scent anyone like them in the place, yet he’d been so care free when they’d come in, he hadn’t thought to. The sudden shift to extreme vulnerability by his ego threw him off. They were a goddamn vampire. Had he been so inclined, he could easily take every single human on in the restaurant... Why was he suddenly so spineless? And why was his ego not propping his mood up with its usual douche attitude.
“Babe, you’ve gone pale. And you’re shaking. What’s wrong?”
He was shaking? He hadn’t noticed...
“Sorry. My ego... just went funny...”
Keith stared at him in confusion
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know...”
He didn’t know. Was it not sure keith could protect them? No. Keith could and would go beyond them. Then why did it want him to run? All he wanted was a nice breakfast with Keith, so Keith wouldn’t be so stressed about what was to come...
Leaning across the table, Keith’s confusion grew. Cocking his head, he drew back slowly
“You feel like... you’re pushing everything away. If there’s something wrong...”
“I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m sorry”
Trying to let his ego flare a little, the instinct to run grew with it. Lance quick to force it back down. Maybe he’d been too focused on being home of late? No one had made any kind of threat towards him
“If you’re not feeling well, we can go back to the room”
“That’s not it. All of a sudden I got a spike of fear and I’m not sure why”
Keith pursed his lips, shook his head, then suddenly decided to move to sit next to Lance, a little too fast for Lance’s liking. Taking his hand in his, his boyfriend squeezed softly
“You don’t need to be scared”
Having Keith close should have calmed him, yet the spike of fear had spiked his anxiety over not knowing why he was kind of internally freaking out
“I know. All I wanted was a nice breakfast”
“We can still have a nice breakfast...”
“I’m so sorry. I know you’re stressing badly. This has to be so much all at once”
The restaurant was loud, despite it being breakfast time. Too many people seemed way too awake
“The glasses help. Do you want them?”
Yes. And ear plugs. Someone dropped something in the kitchen, Lance flinching at the sound as he shook his head
“No. No... it’s okay. I’ve been doing this longer than you have”
“Are you sure?”
“Babe, I’ll be okay. It’s just weird... I don’t smell anything... bad. Maybe I’ve spent too much time hermitting”
“Or maybe people just suck?”
“Careful, babe. Your grump’s showing”
Keith huffed with a pout
“I’m not being grumpy”
“Fine, your lack of people love is showing. I hope breakfast doesn’t take too long”
“You need to eat more. You’re all skin and bones”
Lance’s ego chose to take the wrong way. He ate. Keith knew he ate. He couldn’t bring Keith’s mood down any further
“I’m going to. Your babies are demanding it”
Bring their hands to Lance’s stomach, Keith rested them there
“Already causing so much trouble. You two better give your dad a break”
“That’d be nice. I think the first thing they’re getting when they’re old enough is a trampoline”
“Why do I feel like you’re the one who’s going to be spending more time on it than them?”
“Because it’s nice to lay out under the stars?”
They hadn’t done that in so long... Maybe they’d get a chance while they were here?
“I wonder what sex would be like?”
And there Keith went stating the real reason he supported getting their kids a trampoline
“I’m not conceiving any future siblings on a trampoline”
Keith bumped his shoulder lightly
“There goes that idea...”
“I’m going to put you in a time out if you don’t get your mind out of the gutter”
“But without the gutter, my mind would be homeless”
Without missing a beat, the werewolf had him groaning
“Who taught you that one? They need to be shot”
Keith grinned, Lance kind of envious that no matter how upset Keith was internally, he was keeping his ego well under control. He should be proud. No. He was proud. He just wished his would perk back up
“Pretty sure I learned that from you”
Great. He couldn’t exactly shoot himself... though he’d definitely shot himself in the foot in the metaphoric sense
“You don’t want to listen to me. I’m going crazy in my old age”
“You’re not even that old”
“Older than you”
Keith put on that bad southern drawl that never failed to work on him
“And twice as pretty. A pretty little thing like you should be careful. A big bad wolf might just gobble you up”
“Nah, my boyfriend takes care of all the scary things out there”
“I could take him. They don’t call me the Mullet for nothin’”
Oh lord. That was terrible. That was terrible and Keith knew it was terrible
“Is it because you’re kinda fishy? A bit limp all dead eyed?”
“Why, miss. I’ve been told I’ve got the perdiest eyes around”
Lance let out a long groan of defeat. He didn’t feel safe, and as much as he didn’t want to feel amused, Keith’s stupidity was kind of turning his frown upside down
“Alright. No more. I get it”
“Do you feel any better?”
No...
“Yeah. I’m still staving, though”
“It won’t be too much longer... hopefully”
*
Keith kept a careful eye on Lance once their breakfast finally arrived. Lance noticing, and responding by eating despite the lack of interest in the pancakes he’d wanted. It was hard to pretend to be happy. Everything felt too much for him, and having it all feel too much for Lance threw him.
Holding it together, the walk back to the hotel was brisk. Lance tried to shake him off to go to the bathroom alone, but Keith wasn’t having it. As Lance “threw” himself down to vomit, he slipped behind him, tugging off the annoying wig so he could rest his chin on Lance’s shoulder. His boyfriend was shaking, his skin felt a little colder than its above barely warm natural state. Having played breakfast over in his mind, he still didn’t know why Lance had spooked, or why his ego had drawn in. The only thing he could think of was that that woman’s words brought up Lance’s fear of giving birth soon. No one had said anything to his precious mate. No one had barely looked their way. No. Everyone else was too busy fucking chewing like a herd of cows. The noise infuriating now he’d noticed.
Staying with Lance until his stomach settled, his boyfriend wobbled on his feet as he stood. Keith had spent the time giving Lance belly rubs and trying smother him in his scent to calm him down. His own ego was rattled by their mates strange actions, making it almost mad at a situation where no one was to blame. Rinsing his mouth out, Lance stared at him in the mirror. He looked exhausted
“I’m sorry”
No. Lance had nothing to be sorry for
“Babe. Hey, it happens”
“I’m supposed to be the one in control here... and I freaked out for no real reason”
“It’s okay”
Lance didn’t know he was semi echoing Keith’s earlier movement as he kicked the basin cabinet lightly
“No. No it’s not. You’re stressed. You’re in a new environment. You’re being forced to go out with me when I look like this. And I couldn’t even keep my shit together long enough to enjoy being out to breakfast with you. It’s fucking pathetic. I should be past all this shit”
“You’re overthinking things again”
Sighing deeply, Lance went to grab his toothbrush out the toilet bag, only to knock the contents out. Sensing the impending tears, he turned his boyfriend towards him, gathering him against him
“Babe. Hey. It’s okay. I’m not mad and you haven’t done anything wrong”
Lance shook his head again
“I’m sorry... God. I feel so fucking incompetent”
Lance wasn’t incompetent. Keith ego saddened to hear their mate talk about himself like that. He wanted to make Lance smile again
“You’re not. Didn’t Dae say something about a fair?”
Again, Lance shook his head
“Sorry... I think I want to lay down for a bit... and I really need to pee. Can... can you get the blankets out the suitcase? They’re in the black one”
“And you’ll be okay?”
“I’m going to pee, then I’ll be out”
Kissing Lance’s hair, Keith found himself more anxious over Lance than the thought of seeing his father’s grave. Maybe Lance was more tired from the day before than he was letting on
“Alright. I’ll be waiting”
When Lance came shuffling out the bathroom, he made straight for Keith. Keith having covered the top of the hotel bed with their three blankets, the bottom one acting as the sheet between them and the crappy bedding below. Lifting the corner back, his boyfriend climbed in beside him. Shoes and all. Lance had to be dead tired to not fight him over his shoes, which had kind of become part of Keith’s daily job. Laying himself against him, Lance rested his head on Keith’s chest, arm snaking around him. Somehow the feeling that came to mind was akin to missing that bottom step and terror flooring you for a moment as your stomach dropped. When Lance started crying, Keith could only let him cry it out. He’d gotten used to Lance having more emotions than he thought possible for a vampire. Lance’s motto seemed to be “sometimes you just need to cry it out”. Still. It sucked. They were so far from their friends. So far from home... and the hard bit was yet to come.
*
Falling asleep Keith, Lance carefully pried himself off his boyfriend. He felt safer for being in the hotel room, and disoriented from how hard he’d seemed to nap. Creeping to the bathroom, then back into their room, Lance mentally sighed to himself over his emotions. He was being so dumb. Keith needed him... None of this... he couldn’t break down now. Taking his phone off the bedside table, the vampire crept back into the bathroom. He’d already talked to Keith, explaining that he didn’t get what was going on at all... Yet he wasn’t sure that Keith believed him. His people hating boyfriend had offered to take him to the markets on for Easter. That wasn’t Keith’s thing. That was Keith grasping at straws and trying to find a way to make him happy again.
The call took a long time to answer, Krolia’s voice happy as Lance wondered if he was annoying her
“Hey, Lance! How are you?! Did you and Keith arrive safely, I swear that boy never thinks to let me know he’s okay”
They’d sent a message to group chat, and that was about it. With some small unpacking, they’d both been too tired for phone calls and any form of in-depth conversation
“Sorry, Krolia. Yeah, we got here okay. If this is a bad time, I can call back”
“No. Not at all. Is everything okay? I mean, I’m thrilled you called, but I’m confused as to why”
That stung a little. He hadn’t spoken to Krolia all that much since Keith turned...
“I won’t keep you long. I have a question, and I think you’re about the only one who understands what it’s like to be pregnant”
He would have turned straight to Mami if she’d been alive. He felt like he really needed that maternal support right now. Hearing her voice would have driven home she was safe and she would have teased him for being hopeless
“Shoot away! Are my two grandbabies giving you grief already? I can have a stern talking to them, if they are”
He wanted to reach through the phone and hug Krolia. Keith was absolutely amazing with him, yet he couldn’t fall pregnant. A small snort escaped without him meaning for it to
“They’re fine. Using my bladder as a trampoline and wriggling around in there. I... uh... I was wondering if when you were pregnant with Keith, if you ever felt... scared for no reason”
There was a pause. Lance grateful Krolia was taking the time to think about it
“Sometimes, yes. Especially in the line of work I do... Did something happen?”
So Krolia has only experienced fear when thinking of vampires and werewolves...
“We we’re having breakfast and all of a sudden I got scared. There was nothing there to be scared of. No one else who wasn’t human... but... I feel like I was too care free lately. I didn’t guard my scent. I didn’t think about what would happen had someone caught it. I didn’t think about bringing Keith here and what if there was someone like us here... I didn’t think about it... and I feel... like me not thinking about it is the same as me thinking Keith... is... something less than he was”
Starting to cry, he felt really very stupid for his tears. He treasured Keith. But he’d been running around trailing his scent after him without a thought of the impact. All he’d wanted was to get things done and settle his ego
“Lance, you love that idiot son of mine. I’m sure at the first hint of danger you would have reacted. Is Keith there with you?”
“He’s asleep... I’m sorry for calling... I would have turned to Mami, but...”
“No. No. I’m glad you called. I want to be there for the both of you. Yes, I was scared. But nothing like Keith’s father. The slightest thing and he wanted to rush me off to the emergency department. You’re under a lot of stress. Have you been...?”
Lance shook his head, then remember Krolia couldn’t see him shaking his head
“Not yet. I freaked out and Keith had to take care of me...”
“You’re nearing the end of the pregnancy. Fears happen. I know that all too well. Especially how the insomnia can play on your mind. You’ve both been through so much, and I heard from Curtis that you were looking forward to some alone time with Keith. My opinion is that you let Keith take care of you. He’s strong”
“He’s not that strong when it comes to his dad”
“No, but keeping it in will only make him worry more. He loves you. If anything were to happen to you... well, I feel sorry for whoever crosses you. I believe both of you would sense actual danger”
“How am I supposed to know the difference?!”
“You’ll know. Take these feeling of fear and ignore them. Push them aside. They’re useless. Focus on you and my grand babies. You should be safe there. Coran didn’t mention anything about anyone living there that you should be wary about”
Lance sniffled. Krolia hadn’t given him much of anything useful and it sucked... but she tried in her own way
“Thanks, Krolia. I’m going to go back to Keith now”
“No worries. Let me know how everything goes. You can call me. Anything you two need...”
“Yeah. I will. I... thanks for talking to me...”
“Anytime. I’m your mother too. You can come to me”
Coming out the bathroom, Keith was awake, meaning he’d heard some, if not all, Lance’s side of the phone call. Stopping a few steps into the room, he expected Keith to be angry at him for admitting he hadn’t thought of his precious boyfriend’s safety. He hadn’t thought of anything much when it came to the more important things he should have been almost paranoid about
“Babe... come here”
Holding his arm out, Lance caved instantly as he moved to climb into bed with Keith, his emotions getting the better of him as he started crying again. Krolia wasn’t Mami. She didn’t give advice like Mami did. The vampire craving that maternal touch, that Krolia had only taken the point off of
“That’s it. I’m here... I’m here, let it all out”
“I’m sorry”
Keith gentle ran his fingers through Lance’s hair, hushing him softly
“Shhhh... I’ve got you. I’m okay and you’re okay. It’s okay”
“I miss Mami”
“I know you do, babe. I know. Let it out... let it all out”
He was such a selfish boyfriend, yet Keith loved him anyway. He didn’t deserve the love he felt from Keith, but he did notice that together like this, the fear had mostly gone away. There really was no substitute for cuddles with Keith.
#once bitten twice stupid#oncebittentwicestupid#ashratherose#klance#mpreg#pregnant lance#werewolf keith#vampire lance#two halves of the same idiot
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9, 10, 12, 19, 20, 21 for the fandom asks! (i'm gonna create the question for 21. it is "which fandoms have you inadvertently become a part of through osmosis from friends?" or "which fandoms did you infect your friends with?" whoops two questions, whatever. enjoy, nerdface. my specialty is being a nosy fucker with too many questions)
Love you too, you obnoxious fucker. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
Fandom Asks Memes
9. Do you like prequels?
I find absolutely nothing wrong with prequels! My philosophy is that, for any universe that can be cleverly and beautifully expanded upon with heart, doing so is a positive effect. The key to this is that it has to be done with inspiration and good intent. Crappy prequels that have nothing to say are bogus. Good prequels that provide a positive contribution? Yeah, sure, totes, go for it. I’d be interested in checking them out.
There’s lots of inherent dangers to writing prequels that mean some of them can be crappy. But I’ll enthusiastically endorse any contribution to media so long as I think it holds merit to its existence in the broader franchise.
10. Characters that deserved worse? >:]
I don’t believe in “deserves worse” for real life humans, so I think about that even less when we’re talking fiction. So long as it’s written well narratively, I’m fine with villains getting away with anything, antiheroes not being reprimanded for questionable actions, etc.
That said. Watching FMA 2003? I fucking wanted Shou Tucker fucking dead 3,000,000,000 episodes ago. WHY DID YOU GUYS KEEP HIM ALIVE!?!?!?! UAHGHGHGHGHGHghghghghghghg. Every time he was on screen, I was seethingly thinking, “I want that motherfucking thing dead, I am so sick of seeing him on screen.”
12. If you could change one ending to a book/show/game/etc, what would you change about it?
Alright! Let’s see. Can we call “The Hidden World” the “ending” of the broad How to Train Your Dragon franchise? I don’t want to change just the end of HTTYD3; I want to change HTTYD3. I would write a movie in which the villain had more apparent impact to the world around him, I would focus on Toothless having leadership problems with the dragons as a whole rather than centering a plot around him and one female, I would write Hiccup interacting with more sense of leadership over the whole tribe instead of hanging out merely with his group of young buds, and I would axe (intentional choice of words) the will-we-won’t-we subplot regarding Hiccstrid and marriage. For starters.
19. If you could be a part of any story, which story would you want to tag along in?
Take me to Narnia.
20. Name a song that reminds you heavily of a specific fandom or character.
Mars by Sleeping at Last. It describes the Ishvalan War, the fear of the Ishvalans, and the young Amestrian soldiers like Roy, Maes, Alex, and Riza who found themselves, to their horror, on the wrong end of a genocide.
“We were full of life. We could barely hold it in. We were amateurs at war, strangers to suffering. We made our families proud but scared at the same time. We promised we'd be safe--another lie from the front lines. Our backs against the wall, we're surrounded and afraid, our lives now in the hands of the soldiers taking aim. Our questions ricochet like broken satellites... how our bodies, born to heal, become so prone to die.”
21a. Which fandoms have you inadvertently become a part of through osmosis from friends?
How dare you ask me two 21′s. ;)
I’m not sure on this one. Maybe Doctor Who. In high school, a bunch of my friends invited me over for a movie night. Well, when I got there, they were cooking a bunch of foods. They decided to watch The Eleventh Hour, and when it came time for the Doctor to try eating a bunch of foods, my friends started eating fish fingers and custard, like some sort of fucking ritual. And I was like, “What the HECK is happening?!?!” My friends had been talking about how great this show was. This was my first exposure to it. Over the next few years, I did get a bit into Doctor Who, and followed it through the first half of college. XD
Also in the junior high, I had multiple friends who talked about Runescape so frequently that, even though I never even saw a SCREENSHOT of the game, I knew so much about it that I was able to follow along and contribute to their convos. Never played Runescape though.
21b. Which fandoms did you infect your friends with?
[cackles] now that one? quite a ton!
I don’t mean to. I hate people coming up to me and saying, “You should watch X!” or “You NEED to watch Y!” I don’t like being judged for my tastes instead of letting me decide my own taste. I have so many things I already want to watch and I don’t want someone else trying to change my priorities around, even if I know they’re just trying to recommend something fun to me. I don’t have time for these things and I don’t want people assuming that I have time for those things. I’ll never get to anything someone says. I don’t like recommendations. Especially after this tumblr blog got big and I got a ton of unsolicited recommendations, it became a pet peeve. So I try hard not to force friends to watch anything. I don’t want to annoy them either with unsolicited recs. I want to be nice. <3 But I guess my natural, unending enthusiasm for things has gotten my friends curious and pulled into the same fandoms I love. XD XD XD Whoops! XD XD XD XD XD One second I’m screaming about a fandom... the next, three of my friends are screaming to me about it, too!
I have seen groups of friends follow me into...... Undertale, Voltron: Legendary Defender, Mass Effect, Deponia, Gravity Falls, and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. And I guess also bluegrass. If that can count as a “fandom.”
#httyd 3 criticism#httyd3 criticism#long post#Fandom Asks Memes#meme#httyd3#httyd 3#THW#The Hidden World#DreamWorks Dragons#How to Train Your Dragon 3#ask#ask me#analysis#my analysis#Doctor Who#The Eleventh Hour#FMA#FMAB#Fullmetal Alchemist#Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood#Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood#enough tags?#nawwwww XD#FMA 2003#Shou Tucker#lightraize
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Writing Tag Game!
Tagged by @my-soliloquy-chamber
How many works do you have on AO3?
Just 5 humble fics. All but one are oneshots. Ok one is actually a twoshot but...
What’s your total AO3 word count?
29069 (at the time of this post)
What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Blessed by the Gods at 95
Patches at 75
Remembrance at 52
Flowering at 26
Under Your Scars with a humble 9
Do you respond to comments, why or why not?
Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I? Unless its hate or troll comments, but thankfully I don’t get those....
What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?
Uhh... Remembrance. It has a bittersweet ending.
Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the strangest one you’ve written?
No. I’m not big on crossovers, at least ones that are meant to be taken seriously. However if they’re done for humor, or the crossover genuinely makes sense for the world to crossover. (for example Kingdom Hearts and any animated kids movie)
Have you ever received hate on a fic?
Once. A long time ago when I was just STARTING to write fanfic as a teenager. It actually stoped me from writing ANY fic until fairly recently. Tragic really, because it’s likely I could’ve improved SO MUCH as a writer. I’ll admit, the fic I wrote back then WAS bad, but it was a simple Canon/OC oneshot I wrote while bored in school. And this was also back when Canon/OC ships were “cringe” “instant Mary-Sue” (which the OC of the fic was called), and just in general looked down upon.
Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
I have NEVER written a single line smut EVER! I...honestly don’t know IF I ever will. It would end up being a matter of if I’m COMFORTABLE writing such scenes, which, if you asked me that 5 or 10 years ago, I’d say “EW GROSS! No way!” However now...I’m not entirely sure...
But I have been told once IF I did, I’d probably write some really good stuff. Apparently Aces and/or Aros can be like...scary good at writing sex and romance.... I know if I did, I’d focus primarily on the INTIMACY and SENSUAL aspect of it as that is sooooooo much more interesting to me than just raunchy, kinky, hard sex. I’d prefer to write “love-making” and not “fucking”. Yes there IS a difference IMO. The former allows the characters to show more of their characters, what they like, don’t like, exploring each other, LEARNING about each other and bonding closer!
I will NEVER write dub-con/rape scenes EVER!!!!! I don’t wanna read it OR write it...
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Once. LOOOOOONG time ago. I found it and confronted the “author”. It was straight up PLAGERIZED. They just changed the name of the character. Worst part was that it was a GIFT FIC for someone else and their OC! Thankfully the thief DID take it down and apologize.
Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Nope. Never thought about it honestly, but it sounds like it could be fun so long as there’s plenty of communication to make it coherent.... unless you want it to be an absolute disaster for funsies.
What’s your all-time favorite ship?
Of ALL TIME? Uhhh.....I don’t really know. I’m not the biggest shipper to be honest. But frankly the one I’ve shipped the longest, since discovering “shipping” almost 20 years ago, would be Zutara (Zuko/Katara of Avatar the Last Airbender)
What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?
Weeeeeeeell.... I’m HOPING Under Your Scars DOESN’T become this.... otherwise... hmm... Probably the Voltron Fix-it-Fic I started writing a few years ago, but never posted, because I essentially rage-quit the series. (the ONLY show I’ve rage-quit!)
What are your writing strengths?
I’m not sure honestly... Maybe writing (non-sexual) intimacy between characters? No one’s ever really told me what I’m GOOD at in my writing...
What are your writing weaknesses?
FINISHING A MULTI-CHAPTER FIC!!!! I’ve NEVER been able to do it! I hope I will be able to finish Under Your Scars.
Also, fight scenes. Like, I understand HOW to write them, but it’s writing the... “choreography” of the fight. Like...what moves are used, how its reacted to or countered, etc.
What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
Uhm...for dialogue? Sadly I’m not bi or multilingual, and don’t trust Google translate to be accurate enough. So, unless it was a single word or phrase taught to me by a native speaker of that language, I wouldn’t use it. But I’d be sure to give a translation of course. Whether in the author notes, or have a character translate it in the story.
What was the first fandom you wrote for?
I....think it was some (terrible) Kingdom Hearts fanfic I wrote with two friends in highschool, circa. 2007-2008...
The second was an ATLA fic (the one that got the hate comment)
What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?
You DARE ask me to choose? Might as well ask a parent who their favorite child is! But seriously, I....really don’t know or have a fav... There’s different things I like about all the stuff I’ve written.
I’m tagging.... whoever wants to do this....
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More of my Klance!Superman AU
A/N: Guess who’s back with more Superman AU Klance? I sorta got inspired by this episode from BH6 the Series(check the episode out, it’s kinda cool!), but yeah, here’s some short fluff, courtesy of me. Also, screw physics.
The Voltron Times Office burned with roaring flames, as powerful as Superman’s undying love for his soulmate(who was trapped in said burning building). The hero flew inside the building, cleverly dodging the bright fiery tendrils licking the sides, burning them to ashes.
Reaching the door, he immediately drew his hand back when finding the metal door handle to be as hot due to the fire.
Aha! Laser eyes! Superman had quite forgotten about that.
He concentrated, making a neat circle around the door, with the lasers. It fell down in front of him in a crumpling heap, revealing a very startled head journalist. The caped hero ran with his super speed, impatient, sweeping up the journalist in his arms and delivering a relieved-
“Nope. No. Not reading this” Keith pushed the laptop away, revulsed.
Shiro crossed his arms around his chest, grinning. “As you can see, somebody made fanfiction of you.”
“Fanfiction?!”
“And fanart! Look at it!”
A Tumblr link was opened, an image on the monitor currently being displayed, depicting Superman. This Superman’s eyes were a bit more...animeized?(Is that a word?), with bulging stylized muscles. And lying in his arms was a very familiar brunette…
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“Lance!” Keith stood in front of Lance’s desk. The journalist grinned, and put his feet up on his desk.
“What, Super Mullet?”
“You know what. That fanfiction.” Lance snorted, walking to the end of his cubicle and filing papers.
“Did you like it?”
Switching tactics, Keith raised his eyebrows. “I especially liked the part about the relieved kiss. Was that some sort of sick wish fulfillment?”
Lance’s eyes widened, and he started waving his hands everywhere. “Look, it was all Pidge’s fault! She dared me!”
A shout came from two cubicles south of Lance. “Hey, don’t get me into your pining problems, boomer!”
The brunette was red now, his name tag whipping around. “We’re already dating!”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t still be pining as hard as my air freshener!”
“Pining?” Keith asked amusedly.
“Ya know? It’s a term fans use a lot in fanfiction”
“I know what pining is, Leandro”
“Hey, that’s not my fault! I don’t want to use my actual name, cause safety reasons and all”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure the voting poll between Superleandro and Leiman was not intentional too”
“Deal with it, Kogane”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Keith got through half the day before he made a silent resolve to break the teeth of anybody who dared to mention the Superleandro/Leiman fanfiction that had taken Altea City by storm. It wasn’t even that good. Hunk and Pidge begged to differ.
“Man, this story is a masterpiece!” Hunk sighed, reaching to hug the monitor. Pidge slapped his arms away.
“You do know that Lance wrote it?” Keith leaned back on Pidge’s dissection board slowly. Today was not the best day to be scratched to death by an angry pidgeon.
“Yeah, this is surprisingly good.” Pidge gave a noncommittal grunt. “Even for him”
“I can’t believe you guys,” he said dazedly. “What is the world coming to?”
Pidge pushed the laptop to him. “You should try reading this part. It has a cool maneuver you could do.”
In this chapter of the fanfiction, Superman used his super breath (Keith didn’t know what to call it without it sounding weird) to form snow in the air and then use his laser eyes to heat it up until it became steam to blind Sendak, grabbing him from behind. Lance did have some pretty good ideas when he was not being annoying.
Keith tried to act nonchalant about the passage, shrugging. “Yeah, I guess it could work.”
Hunk groaned. “You guess, dude? This fanfic might help you get your work done faster. And cooler.”
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Okay, so maybe Keith was planning on trying out that cool ice-smoke thing that Lance was writing about. That was only because he was sort of bored of breaking Sendak’s machine with his laser eyes and punching him so that he wouldn’t escape. At least, that was what the mullet was trying to convince himself.
The evil scientist cackled, shooting a ray at the hero, who narrowly dodged it.
Stay focused. Concentrating, Keith funneled a breath over to the building next to him, a rectangular block of ice forming.
Sendak laughed at the show. “Playing Frozen, are we now, boy? Are you ready to Let it Go?”
The hero did not respond, instead chucking the block in the direction of the scientist, using his laser eyes until the melted water became a thick fog of vapor surrounding the villain. Said villain was screeching curses from his position on the death ray.
Keith followed the screeching noise until his fist collided with skin. The now-unconscious Sendak started to fall down, the superhero swooping down and catching him in his steel grip in midair. Flashes of cameras went off, the dull chatter of several reporters as they tried to push to the front to interview the hero and ask about his cool new moves.
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“I got the best picture of you! Cradling Sendak in your arms, too. Wait till tomorrow’s issue comes out!” Lance excitedly took the chip out of his camera and plugged it into his laptop, a giddy smile plastered on his face
“Could you say that sentence any other way?” Keith replied distractedly, fingering the keyboard.
“Sendak crading in your arms?”
Keith sighed.
“Also, speaking of Sendak, I heard somebody busted some cool moves today, inspired by yours truly” Lance put a hand to his chest.
“Don’t get too cocky, Leandro. I think my original method is way more efficient. And less showy.”
“Shut up” Lance grumbled. Keith smirked, leaning on the side of his desk.
“But you loooove me, don’t you?” making a weird-goober expression that Lance suspected was a poor imitation of him. He shoved Keith lightly, grinning.
“Unfortunately, I do, even with that mullet of yours somehow.”
#klance#laith#keith#voltron keith#voltron lance#lance mcclain#superman au#superman#fanfiction#fanart mentions(fake)#bh6 the series#pidge#hunk#sendak#sendak sucks at being evil#keith needs to let it go#fluff#imagine fanboy hunk#just IMAGINE THE POSSIBLITIES#okay I'll go now#tag-heavy#the bh6 episode is called fan-friction fyi#screw frigging physics
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Written & directed by Fangirl Quarantino
Ao3 has been very Foxphobic in that first I had to wait a whole day for an invite once I decided in the spur of a moment I should really make an account, and then telling me my username did not follow requirements (...it really did?? I swear!). So. Ao3 link might follow when that is fixed but for now, have a direct copy-paste of my latest one-shot.
Summary:
After an Order meeting runs late during a curfew, Shiro is stuck in Faust Mansion.
Mephisto offers to poof him home, but had a few glasses and Shiro does not trust drunk magic. He also doesn't trust drunk opportunist Mephisto conveniently having no guest rooms available, and goes in search of alternative beds.
Characters: Shiro, Mephisto, Belial, Ukobach
Tags: #There was only one bed #which may have been by design #omg they were curfew mates #adult language #nudity #violence #banter #humour #alcohol #mature #Suggestiveness #no out-right smut #But the Thought is there #and a little #erotic aesphyxiation #never killed anyone #oh wait it did actually #Not this time though #dubious consent #or however you call relocating an unconscious naked person for your amusement but without actually feeling them up #well maybe a little #but with a towel
Enjoy~
“What do you mean, I can't go home?!”
Shiro yelled at the unmoved face of the butler.
“Curfew, sir. It's past 9 pm.”
Fuck. That was right- there had been a surge in demon activity lately, and as a counter-measure, the Order had issued a strict no-going-out-after-dark policy.
“Oh come on- I'm a professional! Any demon encountering me is in more danger than I am.”
“Even unarmed?” A smug, slightly lilting voice inquired behind his back.
Shiro balled his fists, surpressing the urge to use them on the face that voice belonged to.
The same face and voice that had informed him a couple weeks earlier he was no longer allowed to bring firearms to Order meetings. Not since he'd emptied almost an entire magazine into the back of Mephisto's chair after the Osaka incident.
Insufficient informants his ass. As if that mission hadn't been payback for the whoopie cushion the week before.
As if a round of bullets would even kill the bastard. Wimps.
“Could neither of you have informed me sooner?! I was only sticking around because captain naggy pants over here-” he threw out his entire arm to gesture; “-insisted it would be bad form to leave with all the high-ups still here.”
“Bitte do not yell at my butler- it's not hisch fault you don't know how to use a watch.”
Shiro again considered the use of his fists, but instead opted for a look of Promise over his shoulder at the grinning demon getting up from behind the fancy desk.
“Oh relax, Shiro. I can juscht teleport you home.”
“Oh nononono- There will be no. Poofing.” He switched from fists to pointing, and waved a warning finger at Mephisto's raised eyebrows.
“May I ask warum nicht?”
“Because you just had to serve prosecco at your stupid meeting and you have the poorest alcohol tolerance in the world. And a sweet tooth.”
The eyebrows shot down, along with the corners of his mouth in an affronted expression.
“I had three glasses!”
“Yes, and I can see you swaying from where I stand.”
Not to mention the increased use of German. Shiro folded his arms.
“Last time you looked like that and poofed me somewhere, I ended up in the middle of a rice field because you had sake on your brain.”
Mephisto made a dismissive motion with one hand. With the other he pretended not to grip the edge of the desk for balance.
“I'll juscht concentrate very hard on your apartment, it'll be fine.”
“Oh hell no- I don't wanna end up half inside my shower cabin, or inside a wall. I'm staying here. You have like five hundred rooms anyway.”
He turned around. “Yo Belial, point me to a guest room, would ya.”
No response. The butler looked even stiffer than usual, but bounced his eyes back and forth between the two men as if following a tennis match.
Shiro growled. “What?”
Finally, Belial mustered the courage to speak. “I'm afraid there are currently none available, sir.”
“...What.”
He shot a venomous look at Mephisto, who avoided his gaze and uncharacteristically fumbled with the buttons on his vest.
“I may have... clearedthelaschtonetomakeroomfurmeinecollectionofPokémoncards.”
Of course.
“So make a new one!”
Wrong move. Never order Mephisto around. The somewhat apologetic pout was gone in an instant and replaced by silken lechery.
“Oh now Shiro, you don't want me to use my magic while drunk, do you~?”
“...Seriously.”
“You know, there is another option...” The green eyes briefly slid sideways, returning to the exorcist's face to serve up a very clear and satisfied Suggestion.
Funny, how those three glasses of pink bubbly suddenly seemed to have left his system.
Even funnier how there suddenly was a direct, open door from his office to his bedroom.
“...You wish.” Shiro planted his feet firmly on the ground. “Allow me to decline that offer with a resounding Fuck No.”
Mephisto rolled his eyes. “Oh please- I'll likely won't even use it tonight. There's a Voltron marathon on channel 12.”
“Ever heard of the phrase 'tying the cat to the bacon', because that's what me sleeping in your bed would be.”
“You overestimate this cat's interescht in your bacon.”
Waddayaknow. Little bubbly left in there after all.
But apparently not so much that he couldn't poof himself into a shimmering baby blue chamber robe.
“Bullshit.” Shiro scoffed. “I've seen you checking out my bacon since the moment it turned legal and probably a good bit before that.”
“Very well.” The demon shrugged, and assumed a leisurely walk towards the pillow nest in front of the tv, with the obvious intent to install himself there for the rest of the night.
“You're welcome to find yourself the softest spot of floor, then.”
Shiro sauntered after him, a smirk creeping up on his lips.
“Actually, I have a better idea.”
The moment Mephisto's satin-clad butt would have touched the pink bean bag, Shiro yoinked it from under him, causing the bony structure to make sudden, harsh contact with the marble tiles.
“Ow! What in-”
“Bed aqcuired. Goodnight.” Bean bag under one arm, Shiro marched off.
Mephisto crawled out of the surrounding pillows, rubbing his back with one hand and carrying murderous intent in his eyes.
“Give that BACK, the show's starting in 2 minutes!”
“If you're so confident about your magic, why don't you make me.”
Wrong move again, yes. But too delectable to pass up on. Shiro grinned, tossing the bean bag back and forth between his hands.
“Unless of course, you feel a bit nervous about your aim while I'm standing right in front of your precious figurine collection.”
A hesitation. Mephisto wavered. Little bubbly left in there after all.
...Dare he?
He dared. Shiro stuck out his tongue.
Terrible move. The demon's eyes narrowed, and out of nowhere a yellow rubber ball with red stars flew off a shelf, bounced off the floor and hit Shiro square under the chin. He instantly dropped the bean bag to clasp both hands over his mouth with a pained groan.
“Told you there's nothing wrong with my aim.” A poof, and the bean bag was back in its rightful place: under Mephisto, who took his merry time wiggling himself into the most comfortable position.
“Stop being a crybaby and let me take you home, or enjoy the floor.”
Shiro lowered his hands and scowled at the back of Mephisto's head, and that oh so annoying flippant hand motion illustrating this fight was clearly over and he was the victor. As it should be.
When met with a display that level of self-assured superiority, one can only respond in either of two ways. Admit you lost... Or get petty.
“...Fine, swew you.” Fuck. Difficult to sound convincingly stubborn when his tongue wouldn't work.
“Thewe's bound to be a couch somewhewe. Hey Belial, help me out here, would you.” Finally. “Where's the nearest bed-like structure?”
“Belial, do absolutely not help him.” Asshole didn't even look up, just tapped at the remote.
Belial froze, looking extremely unhappy about being involved in their dispute.
“...Dude, seriously, you're a butler. Helping guests is just as much your job as pampering his childish ass.”
“...”
Merely a gaze of concern at his master, and an apologetic look in Shiro's direction, pressing his lips tightly together.
Shiro growled. “Fuckin' bootlicker.”
-Some 25 minutes later-
Mephisto's bedroom doors were thrown open, and a dishevelled Shiro unsteadily leaned against the doorway.
“Back so soon?” Mephisto grinned over his shoulder, a drinking straw clasped tightly between his fangs, but his glee evaporated and he took it out when he caught a better look at the exorcist's state. “What happened?”
Shiro tottered in, bits and pieces falling out of his torn clothes, and rubbing the various cuts on his cheek with the back of his equally mangled hand.
“Wound up in kitchen. Dark. Accidentally knocked over a bowl. Side dish or sum'thin. Ukobach did not appreciate. Told him to calm down. Rain of pasta. You wouldn't believe how sharp uncooked penne can be.”
“Tragic.” The grin returned. “Try not to bleed on any fabrics if you're going to take refuge in here.”
Heartwarming. Shiro was too worn out to dig up some choice insults, but addressed Mephisto with the foulest look he could still muster.
The demon chuckled. “...Or perhaps, just let me send you home?”
Silence. There was probably no alcohol in the glittery cinema soda cup, but who was to say for sure.
Also, leaving the mansion somehow felt like a greater defeat than staying in Mephisto's room. Like he hasn't just lost the battle, but was too afraid to even remain on the battlefield.
The demon kept his eyes fixated at the colourful robots on the tv screen, but his ears were perked up attentively, waiting for Shiro's response. When that failed to happen, he closed his eyes and gave another nudge-
“...Or use what might arguably be the best bed in the world~”
Bait? Definitely. But also a lifeline. Shiro bit.
“You mean that bed you do God knows what in? Yuck, no thanks.”
Dramatic sigh for effect before deigning to look him in the eye. “Have you met me? My bed is clean, I assure you.”
Shiro smirked. Such a diva. And a dweeb. “Yeah alright, you probably only ever hump anime pillows anyway.”
The corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Justify your choice however you like, Shiro-pon.”
Boxers and t-shirt wouldn't be too bacon-y for the cat, right? Not while there were still mechas on tv to distract it, at least. Shiro began peeling off his tattered clothes, until Mephisto's ears twitched at the click of his belt unbuckling and he turned sharply towards the exorcist.
“...Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?”
Shiro kicked off his pants and flipped back the blankets. “Using your goddamn bed. Happy now?”
“Absolutely not. Get out.”
What. Shiro stared at the piqued face in disbelief.
“...Are you for real? What the fuck is it now?! In the bed, not in the bed, get in, go away-”
“Oh, you're welcome to sleep in my bed.” Mephisto squinted eyes slid up and down over Shiro's post pasta-fight body and the dirty clothes on the floor in a most disapproving manner. “AFTER you take a shower.”
Shiro's shoulders dropped. “...Really now?”
“Like I said.” He decidly turned back to the screen. “I like my bed clean.”
Shiro had no doubt the demon could sense the middle finger aimed at his back, but there were no bouncing balls or other items interfering with his gesture while he strode into the bathroom and yanked a towel out of the closet.
Frankly, it was not exactly a terrible ordeal to use Mephisto's shower. If he hadn't been that tired, be might have opted to wait for the bath to fill up instead- he eyed the pool-sized structure with a mixture of envy and disgust. Filthy rich bastard.
Filthy rich bastard with a royally equipped shower cabin, though. Shiro turned the knob and waited for the water from the various shower heads to heat up, when a voice from the bedroom yelled over the sound of the streams:
“You better not use my expensive shower gel!”
Shiro sighed. “Which one?! They all seem expensive!” They probably were.
“...The gold and pink bottle. Do not touch it.”
Definitely touching it, he picked it up and turned it around in his hand. “Oh lord save me, you know how much I'd like to smell like- vanilla tenderness?? ...Is that how you lure in prey?”
“I'll have you know the ladies love it.”
Shiro snickered. “Oh, I don't doubt that. On them.”
“You bet they do~” The smug retort came drifting from under the door.
Shiro shook his head.
“Are you sure they can't sue you for false advertising, cuz there is nothing vanilla nor tender about you.”
“How would you know?”
...Walked straight into that one.
“...Care to find out~?”
“Eat my ass.”
“Maybe after you washed it.”
Shiro didn't know it was possible to choke on your own tongue while standing. Thank God or whomever that the demon couldn't see how red his face was- though judging by the giggling noises, the shower wasn't enough to drown out his coughing fit.
“Really, you are so wonderfully talented at putting your own foot in your mouth, Shiro~”
“Keep it up and I'll put my foot in your mouth!” He scowled, stepping into the shower while Mephisto burst out in a full-blown laughing fit, fuck knows why. Shiro shrugged it off. This was probably one of those better-off-not-knowing times.
Ah, such a wonderful story~ Heroism, friendship, impossible odds, fantastic machinery... The show had ended and Mephisto zapped away from the commercial break to search for something more interesting. Hm, not much, this late. He shook his cup, the decorative re-useable plastic ice cubes rattling about. All out of drinks. Snacks too. Maybe switch to other entertainment. Come to think of it...
He turned towards the bathroom door. He could hear the water still going. How long had he been in there by now? Five episodes? Seven?
“...As much as I appreciate cleanliness, don't you think you're overdoing it just a scooch?”
No response.
“Don't go telling me you dropped the soap and need help finding it.”
Still nothing. No change in sound whatsoever. Not even one of Deliberately Ignoring You. Odd.
Mephisto rose from his pillow nest and knocked on the bathroom door.
“...Shiro?”
Nothing but the running water. And a strange, light ...grating sound?
He opened the door.
“I'd suggest you make yourself decent, but given how much water you're using as well as your general behaviour today that is word obviously not in your dic-”
Oh. Oh dear.
Semi-sitting on the floor of the shower cabin, slouched into a corner, was one sleeping exorcist.
Mildy snoring.
Mephisto cocked his head. Strangely adorable, but also annoying. He briefly studied the naked, scratched-up figure. Not a bad look, not at all~ But too easy.
He sighed, and peeled one of his sleeves back to turn off the water.
Honestly, rude. He should ask Belial to take care of it. On the other hand... being this troublesome warranted some payback. Payback that would take some effort, but be so much more satisfying than just turning on the cold water right now.
Especially since Shiro was known to have a habit of getting violent when woken up suddenly. He didn't fancy risking a cold shower as well. Plus, the mere idea of the face Shiro would make when-
He snickered. Yes, a much a more rewarding idea. He snapped his fingers.
“Hmmnnggh...” Shiro rolled over, the filtered light making him vaguely aware that it was morning. He hadn't slept this well in ages, and wasn't planning on letting it end just yet. He pulled the sheets along with him. Comfy. His bed wasn't usually this comfy. Smelled different, too. Did he use a new a laundry detergent? Nope, nope- do not get tricked into thinking just yet. That would wake him. Back to sleep. Savour it.
He pulled the sheets a little more, intent on going full burrito mode.
Hm. A little stuck. He groaned at the incooperative blanket, and gave a better yank.
“Don't hog all the covers, please.”
A more effective waking method than a needle in his butt. Shiro shrieked -much to his embarassment- and bolted out of bed. A bed, he now realized, was indeed not of his usual comfort level.
In several ways.
His embarassment rose even higher when he met the incredibly satisfied eyes of the creature inhabiting the bed. Mephisto's face was about sixty percent teeth as he soaked up the image of the severely shocked man, who was still coming to terms with the fact that no, this was not still part of a nightmare, he was, in fact, awake.
And naked.
Upon that realization, Shiro's brain short-cirquited so completely he did not even attempt to cover himself up. Instead, he just froze, blinking fervently as if hoping the next time he opened his eyes, the lecherous monster, half-dressed in an untied silk gown and lying there as if posing for his portrait as a Roman emperor, would somehow have disappeared.
It took a couple minutes -or hours, by Shiro's reckoning- for the demon to get his fill of this view and bestow the smallest amount of mercy upon him.
“As much as I'd love to hang up a story about tequila, I'm afraid you just fell asleep in the shower. So I dried you off and placed you in here.”
Shiro rebooted.
“You... dried me off??”
“Wouldn't want my best exorcist to catch a cold- or soak my sheets.”
Lanes reopened, the backed-up thought traffic in Shiro's head now started honking impatiently to gain first access to his mouth.
“And you- I- but- it didn't- occur to you- that you could have just WOKEN ME UP?!”
“Frankly I hoped you would wake while I was toweling you off, hovering six feet off the floor... But as usual, you were disappointing.”
Mephisto managed to shrug leaning on one elbow, resting his jaw in his hand. He did not quite manage to look genuinely disappointed.
“You really should work on your comedic timing.”
Shiro's face was bright red, but no longer with embarassment. He was seething, fists and jaw clenched, his white bed hair sticking up as steam rising from his forehead.
“I. am not. your entertainment.”
Mephisto grinned. “Aww, no need to throw in the towel just yet~” His eyes glanced down. “You've got such potential, Shiro...”
WHACK.
Instead of a towel, Shiro chose to throw in a pillow. And his full weight and strength to press it over Mephisto's face.
-Epilogue-
Oof. Goodness. Mephisto remained lying down, running a system check on his body. Everything was still there and working, it seemed, but he really should not have let Shiro have his little revenge for quite so long. He had to admit he underestimated the man's strength and how long it would take for his body to pass out from lack of oxygen. Too sidetracked by certain pleasant side-effects, perhaps. He should be more careful about that- Shiro probably hadn't noticed, or he might have indeed woken up with certain parts missing. Or at least damaged.
Something still seemed wrong, though. Cold.
He sat upright on the mattress.
But not in his bed. Or bed chamber.
He blinked. Then shivered.
As one tends to do when one wakes up soaking wet, outside.
Because someone had dragged the entire mattress, demon included, out to the balcony. In the rain.
“...Oh REAL mature, Shiro!”
He teleported indoors, into a warm, fluffy bath gown, and stared at his expensive mattress through the glass doors of his bedroom. Blasted exorcist. Still...
He summoned his phone, flipped it open, and smiled at his new background picture. Dozens of carefully arranged plushies, and in the middle-
“...Best toy I ever had.”
~The end~
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Curfew: Not at all Corona-inspired~ But isolation makes no sense from an exorcism point of view. However, most demons in canon prefer the dark, so when there's an increase in numbers/reported attacks, a curfew is a logical counter-measure to protect the population. And since exorcists aren't supposed to work alone (*casts stern look at Shiro*), only teams on mission would have permission to walk around at night.
Poor alcohol tolerance & increased German: I strongly headcanon Mephisto's host body is in fact that of the original Faust, and it reverting back to its mother tongue when its language cortex is compromised somehow. I also strongly headcanon all strong demons having an insanely fast metabolism, going by the way Mephisto & Amaimon are always snacking yet skeletal, and this got in fact sort of confirmed by the recent manga chapter where Shiro complains about it in regards to baby Rin. So Mephisto gets drunk easily, but it also wears off rather quickly, unless he keeps drinking.
Don't drink and do magic/ rice fields: For more information, read The End of the Beginning by Superior Dimwit, arc 2: Inferno, chapter 39.
Tying the cat to the bacon: this is a literal translation of a Dutch expression. I cannot justify how exactly Shiro got to know about it, but I sure as fuck can justify its use here. It just fits too well.
Yellow rubber ball with red stars: Also known as a Dragon Ball, of course.
Ukobach: I know he hasn't shown up in the manga (yet), but this is one of those very rare times (maybe the only time) where I think the anime changed something for the better, and there is a good chance Kato is the one who told them the name in the first place, since it's an actual known demon.
Either way, Mephisto should totally have some mad monkey five-star chef, in my opinion.
The thing about feet you're better off (not) knowing: Words can have interesting double meanings in other languages. For more information, read chapter 17 of Between the End and the Beginning, once more by Superior Dimwit. Technically, you could argue that the majority of mankind has a foot fetish.
Dropping the soap: I trust everyone to know this one. If not, google it at your own risk.
Violent awakenings: Based on Shiro punching little Shura in the face when she kissed his forehead while he was napping.
Pleasant side-effects of lack of oxygen can include popping a boner and light-headed euphoria. Especially when there's a naked exorcist on top of you. Shiro was right: false advertising indeed.
Plushies & pictures: Y'all remember Rin waking up in Mephisto's bed after going full demon mode in the manga? Although he may have sent his butler to pick up the kid and had the common decency to not him in there naked as he did with Shiro in this fic, there were a number of plushies surrounding Rin when he woke up. All facing up and some placed on top of him. Meaning that they didn't accidentally rolled their way there as he tossed and turned in his sleep- someone definitely placed them there. Cute for now, blackmail for later. Always handy.
#aoex#Ane fanfic#Mephiro#ao no exorcist#fanfiction#mephisto pheles#shiro Fujimoto#scribbles#Fox Populi#oh my god they were curfew mates#Belial#Ukobach
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Writer’s Month August 2020 - Day 8
Day eight of the challenge, still late, because I am a still a helpless procrastinator
Day 8, Prompt: Eight
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Ship: Sheith
Rating: Teen and up
Summary: Lance throws a party to celebrate that he and his roommates are going to be friends - for infinity. At the party, Keith meets destiny. Or as he introduces himself, Shiro.
Veeeery loosely based on the New Girl dynamic but not close enough to call it an AU.
Excerpt:
“Ta-da!” Lance stepped back and revealed the decorated room behind him.
Keith tilted his head. “The theme of the party is...eight? Eight what? Why?”
Pidge peered around Keith to see. “Did you realize it’s your age in emotional maturity and decided celebrating reaching it?”
“It’s not eight, it’s infinity. We’re celebrating we’re going to be friends for infinity!”
Keith grimaced and shrugged, Pidge made a gagging noise and Hunk shushed them both.
Tags: first meeting
Infinity
“Ta-da!” Lance stepped back and revealed the decorated room behind him.
Keith tilted his head. “The theme of the party is...eight? Eight what? Why?”
Pidge peered around Keith to see. “Did you realize it’s your age in emotional maturity and decided celebrating reaching it?”
“It’s not eight, it’s infinity. We’re celebrating we’re going to be friends for infinity!”
Keith grimaced and shrugged, Pidge made a gagging noise and Hunk shushed them both.
“Guys, Lance has worked really hard on this party.”
“God knows why,” Keith muttered under his breath and Hunk elbowed him. “Yeah, yeah. There’s beer, right?”
Walking into the apartment he had to fight his way through streamers, balloons and even past a pinata. Behind him he heard Pidge point out that at least half the balloons said “Happy Eighth Birthday!” on the backs. Lance shot back all the balloons were tilted ninety degrees, which clearly made the eight into an infinity sign.
Going about tapping the keg, he realized with a shock that they had all lived in this loft for eight years. Moving in right out of high school, the building deep enough into a sketchy enough area that he could afford it, he and Lance had spent the first days emptying it of the previous tenants’ rubbish. Once it looked presentable - essentially bare, but not the drug den it had clearly once been - they’d posted an ad for the two spare rooms. Pidge had arrived, narrowing her eyes at the print out in her hand. She’d believed the apartment was shared by women. Not that it mattered to her, she stated, as long as everyone left her alone to study. Hunk had seen the open plan kitchen and promised muffins on the spot. Lance had shaken his hand, welcoming him to the apartment.
And that was...eight years ago. The apartment had changed over the years. It had furniture, for one. Adding to it through donations, or a purchase when someone had some cash to spare. Keith had bought the coffee table because he refused to use a tray balanced on his knees to eat in front of the tv. Lance had replaced the couch at some point because the first one - inherited from Pidge’s grandmother - was ugly as sin, covered in large roses and wearing some kind of furniture skirt with bows on it. Hunk had picked up appliances on Gumtree, installing them one by one himself. Keith had used the printer at work to blow up some large scale pieces he’d done. The joking picture he’d drawn for Lance for his 21st birthday of them all as superheroes held pride of place.
He hadn’t really thought about it but they’d all changed, just as the apartment had. Lance, his one and only friend from high school, still loud and animated, but instead of the messy haired loudmouth he’d been, he was now a tidy, suit-wearing marketer. Hunk, who’d finished his degree in mechanical engineering, had worked in the field for three years before pursuing his real passion - cooking. His own restaurant had just celebrated its second birthday. Pidge, still the same height as when she moved in, to her chagrin, had finished her PhD in astrophysics and found her place at the Observatory where her father and brother worked. She’d taped “Dr.” in front of the K. Holt on the door to mark the occasion.
Though if he was comparing, the one who’d changed the most was possibly himself.
Leaving high school he’d never imagined he’d want to go to university, or that he’d ever know what he’d want to do. It was Lance, who had drunkenly filled in his application to art school, attaching blurry cellphone pictures of what Keith deemed his “doodles”. Lance who had pushed him out the door to the interview to “just see what it’s about”. Now, Keith had just heard from his publisher his comic book, Voltron: Legendary Defender, had been renewed for another run, with more zeroes attached than Keith had ever dreamed he would make from his art. In truth, he didn’t think any of them needed to live together for financial reasons anymore. But there had been a time when his part-time job and scholarship money didn’t stretch to everything a month would need, when the other three had quietly “made too much food” or “felt like overpaying on gas this month - I did have a few long showers”. Just as he had when Lance had been between jobs, when Pidge didn’t have enough time to work in the last two months before her PhD was due, when Hunk had struggled to make ends meet at his new restaurant.
Sipping his beer, he woke from the reverie to realize people were arriving. He recognized a few of Lance’s work friends, some of the people from the Observatory, Pidge’s brother, staff from Hunk’s restaurant.
Lance came beelining over.
“Keith, Allura is here! She came!”
As his friend was in love at least twice a month, Keith just hummed.
“Allura, Keith! The woman who owns the model agency we give a lot of business to.”
Memories of this particular woman being a recurrent topic of Lance’s he obediently looked to where Lance was indicating. A tall, slim blonde was talking to Matt - who looked like he’d never finished Standing Like A Human Being 101. Awkwardly hunched, he laughed entirely too loudly at something the woman had said.
“I need you to talk me up to her if you speak - nothing big, you know, how I’m a model employee, earn three figures, drive a Range Rover, and that from what you can tell through my bedroom door I can make a woman have an out-of-body-experience.”
“If she’s with you in bed, she’ll wish she was out of her body,” Keith joked automatically.
“Keith, focus!” Lance tugged at his shirt to stare into his eyes. “She’s the most beautiful woman on the planet, she’s smart and she’s funny. She came to this party and I have a chance to make this work.”
Sighing lightly, Keith put his beer down. “Lance.” He put his hand to his shoulder. “Remember that none of what you listed me to say matters. You’re a good guy, you take care of your friends, even when they don’t want you to. You’ve been my mom, my partner and my friend for years. You don’t need to brag about whatever car you drive if you could just believe that the people who love you, love you for you and not for being cool, or suave or whatever epitaph it is you’re always pursuing. Just go talk to her and be yourself.”
Lance blinked rapidly.
“Don’t cry, man. If you do, I take it all back.”
Lance kept blinking, sniffles starting.
“Stop it. I’ll tell Allura you’ve got syphilis if you cry.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” The tears sank away and Keith breathed a sigh of relief. “Besides, first I need you to distract Allura’s date.”
“She brought a date?”
“She brought some guy who looks like he models. They’re probably just colleagues.” Lance’s voice was high pitched with his own disbelief. “In any case, it shouldn’t be a hardship for you to talk to him, just don’t drool on him too visibly. I don’t want Allura to think my friends have no class. Even if they don’t.”
“Hey, watch it. Remember I can tell anyone, at any point, you sing Backstreet Boys in the shower.”
“They have an underrated emotional intelligence in their songs!”
Keith snorted, “As if “I Want It That Way” isn’t about a breakfast egg order.”
Lance drew a deep breath, about to go on a tirade. Then he deflated, narrowed his eyes. “Later. We’re doing that later. Now I am going to talk to Allura, because the guy is coming over here for a drink. Distract him for as long as you can!” Lance hissed the last bit under his breath and slipped away. Keith shook his head. Parts of Lance were certainly not older than the eight years Pidge had claimed.
“Hey, could I get a beer?”
Keith turned around and choked on his beer. There could be no doubt that this was the date Lance had described because he looked like an underwear model - however sadly clothed at the minute. Parts of him punched through Keith’s nervous system like lightning flashes, splayed across his retinas in shining technicolor. Wide shoulders, biceps coiling out of a t-shirt as a gift to mankind, narrow hips showing off jeans to their best advantage, a jaw that could cut glass at an angle that made Keith’s mouth go dry with its wish to latch on like a barnacle to a ship and never let go. Dark hair, soft and shining, stubble that made Keith’s stomach clench, and eyes that edged somewhere between silver and mercury.
“Ah…”
He had to take another moment for the speech to get turned into coherency in his head through the interference of his hormones screaming “Gimme, gimme, gimme”.
“Of course. Beer. Sure.”
Standing behind the kitchen island laden with drinks, next to the keg, he realized he looked like he was there to serve drinks. Setting his own cup down he pulled a fresh one from the stack and poured. Bracing himself to turn his eyes back on the god standing in his kitchen, he turned back.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks. I’m Shiro.”
“Keith.”
Keith saw that one of the sideways eight balloons hovered behind Shiro like a halo. Suddenly it did look like the sign of infinity.
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