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ru1-png · 2 years

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It's okay, I got you. I won't let you go. (comfort fic)

. . . Content Desc ! (ノ・ω・)ノ

i am finally back once again after a month. . . ⤿ ;; Mayoi Ayase x Reader ୧ .˚ₓ this is a . . . sad fluff // (technically angst but.. good relationship) -> TW : overall bad mental state, mentions of su!cidal thoughts. i've had this idea for a fic like this for some time technically to help me out at one point. but, now ive finally decided to actually work on it so this hopefully helps you just as it helped me. ILY <3 you're so pretty/handsome and keep on slaying !!! ^^ word count : 2099 [[ another long one.. sorry ! ]]

, , i kinda felt like changing up my formatting a bit for stuff so. . . hope it looks nice ! `` for once im not going to really write a setting up the scene, i just wanna get into things, seeing as theres not much setup i can really think of . . . ENJOY (ꈍᴗꈍ)

Staring at the ceiling for hours has become a norm for you as of late. Eyes heavy and tired, bloodshot red from having given into your feelings and bursting into tears once again. Your head can only simply register one thing, a single thought, "Why am I so tired?" But you know why you're tired, you know why you're here. But that's the last thing you want to think about. Maybe if you were to isolate your thoughts so much, it wouldn't seep out onto others, you wouldn't infect them with your incredible burnout and awful mental state. Maybe, if... you just weren't here anymore, you wouldn't have to let anybody down?

It's felt as if almost everything around you is slowly crashing down, the fact that it's all happened so slowly only makes it even worse. Like a "fuck you" that never goes away. Almost as if your new constant stresses and worries don't take up all the time in your day. Eating and sleeping have never felt like such a task, even as little as you've partaken in such tasks over these 2 weeks. "If I'm always hurting someone else or making their day worse, then why shouldn't mine be worse?" Nothing but self destructive thoughts, clawing and chipping away at the usual outspoken vivacious person that is yourself. Counting the hours that pass or occasionally opening your phone just to stare at your lock screen being the only thing keeping you from floating away in that awful fucked up brain of yours.

You feel truly utterly useless, everything you have done or tried to do has lost all its worth. The frowns of other people begin to feel like knives penetrating through you, twisting and mixing your insides, almost making you feel sick. You feel so embarrassed that your only thoughts can be "Why am I here?" or "What's stopping me." Why can't you just be normal? Why can't you just feel happy? You don't like isolating yourself, but you can't bother to leave your room even though it has been days.

As you continue laying there, every blink you make feeling tenfold of what it truly is, you are jolted back to your senses as you hear a soft knock coming from your door. Unable to really ignore it, seeing as you can't really lie about not being home, your car is outside. You return the knock, trying to hide how tired you are, "What happened?" The door then opens a small bit, only being the slightest bit ajar, just barely enough for a head to stick out from it. And that is just what happened, suddenly you see at first small bits of messy plum-purple hair stick in through the small crevice made. Then, you begin to see it, the face of the oh so lovely yet oh so timid Mayoi. At that very moment, it then suddenly hit you... "You've probably had your boyfriend worried sick this whole time." Mayoi had always been the type to show the highest bit of concern for you, no matter what was going on. But, he would never want to invade your privacy, if he think you needed your own space, he'd give just that. Even so, he'd always be right there by your side no matter what, through thick and thin Mayoi was there even if you two haven't decided to move in with each other yet. He would often have his moments where his overwhelming stresses and anxieties get the better of him and he can't help but break into a panic, being able to comfort him and help him through that would send your heart to the moon.

Mayoi's whole head suddenly peeks through the door, you hear a slight rustle coming from what seems to be something in his hand which is obstructed by the doors view. His striking cyan eyes always catch you off guard. It's always as if they are staring into the deepest part of your body, just studying you. With a concerned frown on his face, he can't help but see how tired you look, and seeing your face slightly red from the previous crying you had done only makes him more worried. Finally, Mayoi musters up the courage to say something.

"Y/n.. I'm really worried about you. Y-you haven't come out of your room in a few days, I'm so sorry for being a bother but, d-do you need me to stay for a few days?" Mayoi sounds like he might even shed a tear himself, you are simply shooken to your core seeing his face, the true worry, sadness, confusion. You don't want to leave Mayoi like that, but no matter what it just feels like you can't get your shit together. Feeling such guilt and doing nothing more than blaming yourself for Mayoi's concern, you ask him to come into your room.

He becomes a bit flustered at the request, "Are you sure I should come in? I don't want to invade your space."

"How could such a considerate person deserve me.." you'd think to yourself and you fight the urge to frown even more noticeably. "It's just fine Mayoi, you're welcome into my room at any time, please don't feel worried to step in." You give him the most comforting smile your face can possibly contort into. The plum haired boy begins moving around the scattered clothes and small bits of garbage flooding the ground, trying his very best not to step on anything. Along with the more steps into your room he took, the rustling noise from before had been revealed to you to have been indeed a bag that was hanging from his wrist.

Every second he inches closer to your bed, you can feel your body tensing up, your heart rate only raising. "He shouldn't have to go through all this trouble for me, why do I cause him all this trouble? I should be a normal, loving, happy partner, yet here I am. Doing nothing but causing him trouble. Why do I keep on making mistakes, I'm only hurting him, why would he even stay with me if I'm that much of a bother, why am I even here anymore?!" You can't help but panic, why must you torment yourself like this any time someone dares to care about you, any time someone would even try to open their heart to a vile awful person like you.

Suddenly, as Mayoi reaches your bed, you have lost all track of your thoughts, how far you have sent yourself in terms of blind panic. Because, low and behold, you are already in tears, sitting there right in front of Mayoi. You are only made aware of this once you feel one of the crystal drops run down your cheek, almost tickling it. Mayoi jumps a bit, not expecting this sudden reaction.

"Y-Y/n?! D-did I do something wrong, are you alright?! Please don't cry.... I'm sorry, I'M SORRY!" A billion thoughts rush into Mayoi's head slightly sending him into a panic aswell. You can't help but blame yourself as always for this situation. But, you do the only thing that you think you can do right now, you just... hug him, you latch your arms around Mayoi and you don't let go. Almost having him in a death grip, you can do nothing more than try to let yourself feel the warm embrace and try to calm your boyfriend down. You let out sudden sporadic sobs, not being able to contain all these bottled up feelings, Mayoi suddenly shakes each time you let one of the sobs out.

After choking on your words more than enough, you are finally able to get a few words out. "Mayoi... I'm-" you take a deep breath trying to stop another sob from coming out, "I'm so sorry.." but you couldn't stop it, more tears came out. "I do nothing but hurt you, I do nothing but cause you pain, I keep on bringing you down with my problems. I'm so sorry for everything I've done to you, I don't want to be constantly worrying you, but somehow I can always fuck up and do just that. I keep on fucking up for everyone, no matter how hard I try. I'm just... so tired, I'm tired and I can't do this anymore. It's all so hard, I'm just a waste of space that's been nothing but a useless burden to everyone." You take one last shaky breath, more tears coming, "I'm sorry....". You can no longer comprehend any basic words to use to express how you feel, absolutely out of any energy to say anything more. You just dig your head into Mayoi's shoulder, and once again hug him.

It takes a while for anything else to happen, but that's fine with you, just being in Mayoi's arms gives you a sense of comfort, but an unimaginable sense of pain. His hand begins to reach for your hair, as he shakily strokes it, just like a parent would with their child trying to lull them to sleep.

"Y/n... you haven't done a single thing wrong. I'm so sorry these feelings have been bothering you so much. Please tell me... y/n" He hesitates, slowing down the gentle strokes in your h/c hair, "Are y-you okay y/n? I'm really sorry for asking but, I can't see you so sad like this. I'm in no place to assume how you feel, so please, if you have anything going on, you can tell me."

Knowing Mayoi would be willing to give that kind of space to open up about how you feel, you decide to finally let it out. Though the embarrassment won't go away, though all the bad thoughts feel so loud, you can't keep this from him anymore. It's not worth keeping it all in anymore, not when Mayoi is so concerned about you. You suddenly begin to let everything out, talking about your struggles, your constant concerns, and well.. the thoughts you've had. Being as brutally honest as you can is all you can do, but you make sure to remind Mayoi that none of this is his fault and in no ways are you upset at him. The last thing you would want is to have him panicking which would only make things worse. The fact that he is even here listening to you, and so intently as he is already enough of a shocker.

"That's... about all, I'm so sorry about the mess aswell, I'm just.. a mess right now." You sigh as you look downward with a look of shame and embarrassment that you'd let things get this low. It takes Mayoi a bit of time to find the right words to say, a process which normally would take him a fair amount of time. Once finding out what he wants to say and how to say it, he gently holds your hand, looking into your e/c eyes with the same look you always get as you stare into his eyes.

"Y/n, you've never been anything of a bother, I should have checked on you more. Never would I believe you deserve any of this..." He pauses. Getting lost in your gaze, which shakes him up a bit, he regains his grounds, "I-i want to help you in any ways that I can... I love you, and I will be here for you. Though I am nowhere close to anything above average, I want to love and care for you in whatever ways I can. Everything is going to be okay y/n, I got you. I won't let you go."

The last sentence he let out shook you to your core, and you could feel yourself tearing up again. You then fall right into him, but not suddenly enough to catch him off guard, and you just lay there. Never has an embrace felt so... comforting, so loving, so reassuring. But, Mayoi has proved a hug like that can exist and that yes... everything might end up really being okay. After some time, you sit back up. Mayoi looks to his left where he had placed the bag he had in hand down during the breakdown, and he passes you the bag.

"I'm s-sorry if you aren't hungry, but just in case you are, I got you your favorite." He slightly blushes as you open the bag to find a large assortment of foods and snacks you like; you can't help but smile and look at him.

"Thank you Mayoi... thank you, I love you"

#enstars #ensemble stars #comfort #comfort fic #mayoi ayase #ayase mayoi #enstars x y/n #enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #ensemble stars x y/n #ilysm

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the-blind-geisha · 3 years

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What do you think demi would do if the mc had depression and coped using bad habits, self harm/drugs/alcohol?

With self-harm? Demiurge would find out about it and be upset and concerned. When he is told its a form of self-loathing, he would hold the part of her that she's been cutting and kiss over the marks she's made and remind her that—yes, he knows the world is unfair and hard on her, but she shouldn't take it out on herself. He would do his best to be there for her, hoping to take away the other blade she's using to release the pain and feel she has some form of control over herself. If she wants to break down and cry and try to reach for the blade again or whatever she can get her hands on? He'll stop her and just tell her to hold onto him if she needs to in order to get it out of her system.

When it comes to the drugs? It would depend the drug. If she actually needs it, he would possibly keep it under lock and key and monitor her closely when she takes them. If they're nothing she truly requires, he would throw them out to prevent her from leaning on them too much. I think this would scare him beyond measure as there's no way she couldn't just 'accidentally' overdose and have her heart stop in a second. It would be the firm grab of the upper shoulders, trying to shake some sense into her—telling her that she's worth it and that he loves her. He would no doubt bring her close to kiss her upon her head to hopefully make the dark voices leave her be.

Even if Demiurge enjoys drinking, he can spot alcoholism when he sees it. He would note the bottles and how she just prefers to get wasted every second she can get. When it comes to this? He would lock the liquor bottles up and (again) watch her closely to make sure she never over does it.

“Alcohol isn't going to make the world stop hurting you, that's what I'm here for. Use me for whatever you need.” - Demiurge

#tw: self harm #know that one too well yeef #only about a year ago did i finally stop #still trying to keep stopping #but i know it's hard #and i hope if anybody is going through these awful thoughts know that you're worth it #tw: alcoholism #tw: overdosing #demiurge #demiurge/mc #demiurge/reader #demiurge headcanon #overlord #mod answers #anon

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yellowocaballero · 3 years

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hello! what are your plans towards basira's character in the crow's funeral and what's your opinion on her in general? i'm asking 'cause i'm not a big fan of her as a person (although she's an interesting character), and if she's your raisonneur i guess i'd like to know in advance, as i'm not sure i'd be able to interpret "her" opinion objectively? god, this sounds so dumb, but i don't know how to explain it. of course, you're not obligated to change smt in your work or reply to this at all! [1]

I don't think your works have a raisonneur per se, but just in case. i kinda hope your reply helps me overcome personal, well, negative attachment/bias and i get to see basira less like a person i "know" — you're very talented at dissecting motivations and narrative purposes, while remaining impartial.

This is a super interesting ask that I actually had to think about. I also had to look up a word lmao, which hasn’t happened in a while. Also I can already tell that this answer is going to get incredibly long so RIP. I’m going to just write this post about Basira meta and then reblog it with TCF meta.

Unfortunately, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make you like Basira, lol. She’s my least favorite TMA character too. Normally once I spend a really long time tackling a character I get to really like them, but Basira’s only taken center stage in the Role Swap AU and nobody really gets complex character development or exploration there because...crack. It was the same way with Tim and Melanie for me - didn’t have a strong sense of their character until I sat down and hammered out 100k+ words.

I will say that Basira, like everybody else in TMA, is a terrible person. Like Tim, she is a terrible person who thinks that she is a good one, which pushed her redemption arc all the way to S5 (I’m not caught up but I think it’s still happening). Basira has a really proactive, cut through the bullshit, take charge personality, which makes her a useful character in the narrative. She’s also intensely private, doesn’t really say what she feels, and is the quickest to view people in terms of assets or value, which makes her a hard character to really explore without spending a bunch of time in her head - because whatever she’s going through, she’s not going to tell you!

But I do think she’s worth that exploration. I view every character in TMA through the lens of trauma and trauma response, and Basira is no exception. I’d say that she got through S2 and S3 as unwounded as anybody could, only for something very awful and scary to happen to her in the Unknowing. She spends all of S4 falling apart. It’s not obvious, but she is clearly having a breakdown in S4. And she thinks it’s just her! (S4 Basira handshake meme S2 Jon) She’s lonely, afraid, and desperately trying to seize power in a situation in which she has none. I harp a lot about power and power dynamics in TMA, because it keeps on coming up. Basira - like Jon, like Daisy, like Martin, like Melanie, like a LOT of Avatars - is scared and hurt, and she thinks power will stop her from being scared and hurt, so she tries to seize it. Her version of power is knowledge, and keeping herself emotionally distant from everybody so they can’t hurt her, and shaping herself up to be the hero of TMA (like Tim!) when this story has no hero and she’s in S4 and nothing she does is gonna help. It’s really sad. I can’t argue for her being a good person or making good choices, but the thing about TMA is that nobody is a good person or makes good choices, because they are all in the kind of situation where that is impossible. When there’s only bad and worse choices, when you can’t be a good person so long as you’re being pressured and manipulated into doing bad things...yeah everybody sucks lol. It’s taking Basira a long time to stop sucking (and she has other character flaws like being a hypocrite which others have detailed very well), mostly because she (like Tim!) thought of herself as a ‘good guy’ which meant that she couldn’t open herself up for change, but I think it’s happening now.

Whoo. That’s a lot. I also get really frustrated with her and I think she’s always been a shit person, but I think mostly her situation is very sad. She’s not flashy or loud or talks about her issues a lot like Tim, Jon, Martin, or Melanie, but they’re there and she’s not dealing with them and she’s trying to deal alone. She doesn’t trust anybody because she thinks people just hurt. It’s a sad way to live, one that’s only born from being hurt very severely, and I’m excited to see her growth in S5.

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velkynkarma · 4 years

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Happy April Fools!! For a prompt, I hope you don't mind a classic whump trope: Shiro throwing himself in front of one of the others (Matt or Keith?) to take a hit for them. Hope that's not too vague. Thanks for still writing, you're amazing!!

I really liked this prompt anon, so I went a little overboard and this is a whole fic lol. I picked Matt because I haven’t had enough chances to write him. Kind of a sequel to Break Even. Set in some handwavey time in S4, but it’s up to you if this is Kuron or some AU where Shiro came back on his own. Hope you enjoy :)

——

“I wish that noise would stop already,” Matt snaps in frustration, as he plugs his mini computer into the security panel next to the door.

The alarm screams through the whole Galra ship angrily, blaring over and over just above their heads from one of the intercoms set into the walls and half a dozen others in their hallway alone. It’s loud and thoroughly distracting, but for Matt, it also reminds him of his escape feebs ago. The anxiety of wondering if the enemy will thunder around the corner at any moment is just as strong now as it was then, and sends his heart hammering.

It doesn’t matter how many times Matt has done this, or how often he’s trained for it. He’s never going to forget feeling completely and utterly helpless when he hears that sound.

“I don’t think it’s going to any time soon,” Shiro says, next to him. “Just do what you can.” His tone is authoritative, but he offers Matt a brief, sympathetic look in the middle of scanning the hallways for danger.

That does calm Matt down. A little, at least. If anybody knows what it’s like, it’s going to be Shiro.

Their mission today was simple in theory, but more complex in execution. A Galra fleet had been responsible for utilizing a new, more powerful ion cannon against the rebels, wiping out an entire hidden base in the process. They needed to destroy the weapon itself, while simultaneously stealing any information they could about it, so they could be countered in the future.

The rebels had reached out to Voltron for assistance, and Voltron had been only too happy to help. While the rebels fought the cloud of swarming ships outside—with the assistance of Allura and the Blue Lion, as a decoy to draw their attention—the rest of the team had snuck into the ship itself to get to work. Pidge, Hunk and Lance were Team Weapon, responsible for finding it and figuring out a way to disable it. Matt had volunteered to go in on foot as the rebel representative to hack the data, and Shiro agreed to go with him for backup.

Pidge had been a little upset that she couldn’t go with Matt. It hadn’t been too long since they had reunited, after all, and Matt had to admit it would be both fun and exciting to work in tandem with his amazing little sister. But Shiro made a fair point that they needed a hacker on either team, and Pidge and Matt were by far the most efficient at the task.

Pidge had grudgingly agreed, warned Matt to not die after all the work she put into finding him, and dropped them off from the camouflaged Green Lion on the other side of the ship when the mission began.

And it had gone smoothly. At first. They’d gone undetected on the ship for a while, with the Galra and their sentries so focused on the battle outside. But somebody—Matt still wasn’t sure if it was him and Shiro, or Team Weapon—had tripped some sort of alarm, and it had begun screeching for all it was worth about intruders and danger.

Things had been more difficult after that. Shiro’s armor was scratched from numerous close encounters, and the energy shield mounted on his wrist flickered every once and a while, like it was damaged. Matt’s cloak had several laser rifle burns in it, and he had a new shallow gash on his arm from a too-close encounter with a sentry’s clawed hands.

Worst of all, his leg throbbed at the left knee, aching and uncomfortable. The wound Shiro had given him more than a decafeeb ago to get him out of the gladiator arena didn’t like being pushed too hard with no rest, and it was protesting vehemently.

Matt could fight—the rebels had ensured he could—but he couldn’t do it for huge stretches of time like some of the others could. That was why they’d stuck him at a listening outpost, and utilized his intelligence and stealth more than his combative skills. If he did fight, it was usually in a ship, where he was a decent pilot and a better gunner—and could sit the whole time.

Maybe he shouldn’t have volunteered to do some codebreaking on the ground.

But they needed him. This had to be fast. That new weapon was dangerous, and if they didn’t understand how it worked or where they were being manufactured, millions of people could die. He’s the best hacker they have, after Pidge. He can deal with his leg killing him for a little while if it means a fast and efficient victory.

Of course, efficiency also depended on his equipment. The rebels had some decent tech, but it was nothing compared to Pidge’s nifty little wrist-mounted computer, built into the paladin armor. The technology in even ten thousand year old armor was efficient and elegant in a way that absolutely did not make Matt in any way jealous that his sister had better toys than he did, no, not at all.

Okay, maybe a little bit.

Matt’s mini computer does the job okay, though. He types rapidly on it as he says, “Their encryption is pretty good, and with the alarms going, the security’s beefed up a couple notches. I can get through, but it’s going to take me a little longer than before.”

“Not too much longer, I hope,” Shiro says, frowning. “We’re sitting ducks here. No cover if anyone comes around the corner.”

“I’ll do what I can, but I’m working with pieced together equipment here. Unless…” Matt considers. “Shiro, let me borrow your arm.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “I thought the alarms would freeze me out of unlocking doors with my prosthetic arm?”

“Nah,” Matt says. “I don’t want the Galra tech, I want your Voltron tech.”

“Oh.” Shiro bemusedly extends his right arm to the side for Matt to work with, while keeping his body turned awkwardly so he can still keep an eye on the hallways. It’s a bit odd, but it does work, once Shiro brings up the displays with the internalized mental commands attuned to himself and the Black Lion and grants Matt access.

“Much better,” Matt says, as he brings up the interfaces on the holographic screen that hovers over Shiro’s right wrist. He loved his little rebel minicomputer, but was so much faster than any tech he had access to. “I’ve got to get one of these.”

“I’m sure Allura wouldn’t mind sharing, if it means beating the Galra empire,” Shiro says, scanning the hallways over the top of Matt’s bowed head.

“You think? This is incredible,” Matt says, as he rapidly eats his way through the Galra security with the bolstered Voltron computer. Pidge already had a number of protocols installed that made hacking the Galra security easy; just a few minor modifications here, an adjustment of code there, and he can smash through the walls like they’re made of paper. “The rebels could really use more sophisticated work like this. A lot of what they have is put together from whatever they can find, the Galra have a lockdown on supplies almost everywhere, and—”

“Look out!”

Shiro’s flickering energy shield snaps up by Matt’s head just in time to deflect a burst of energy from burning a hole in his temple. Matt freezes for just a moment, startled.

There are three sentries pacing towards them down the hallway, energy rifles raised. Matt hadn’t even heard them coming over the blare of the alarm.

Another fires, and the shot deflects off of Shiro’s energy shield again, which flickers alarmingly. Shiro himself has to twist awkwardly in front of Matt and extend his arm outward to provide any shielding at all, while still keeping his right arm within reach of Matt’s hacking job.

Matt swears, and reaches down for his collapsible staff. But Shiro orders sharply, “No, keep working! We can’t hit them from here anyway.”

Matt swears again, but Shiro has a point. If they can just get through this door, they might have a breather. In an open hallway without any firearms or cover, they’re screwed. “Right, right. On it.” His heart beats so hard it hurts, and his leg throbs in time, but his hands and his voice are shockingly still and calm as he works.

He’s almost through when another blast ricochets off Shiro’s energy field, and with a staticky shattering noise, it finally cuts out and vanishes.

Matt’s heart stops. For one horrified moment, he looks up from his work to meet Shiro’s eyes, as Shiro turns back to check his progress.

“Almost—” Matt says desperately, frantically swiping at the holographic keys over Shiro’s wrist. Almost, almost, almostalmostalmost—

The sentries fire again. Shiro moves, twisting around to raise his free arm defensively as he puts himself solidly between the shots and Matt. There’s an awful thud-crack-hiss of energy blasts on armor, and an even worse smell of burning flesh and blood.

Shiro gasps in agony almost right in Matt’s ear, and Shiro’s weight slumps against him suddenly. It’s almost too heavy for Matt to bear so unexpectedly, and his bad leg nearly gives out on him, but he braces at the last moment and manages to hold. Shiro’s helmet clunks painfully against Matt’s skull, and his left gauntlet claws weakly at Matt’s cloak as he struggles for balance.

“No, no, no,” Matt yelps frantically, terrified and angry all at the same time. “No, you do not get to do this again. Not again, Shiro, you hear me?”

Shiro’s only answer is a muted groan, as he struggles to get upright again and fails.

Shiro’s right arm had gone as limp and uncoordinated as the rest of him—his Galra arm is a terrible miracle of science, but in many ways it acts a lot like a normal limb and is just as subject to shock as the rest of the person it’s attached to. But luckily the screens from the Voltron armor had all remained active. Matt snatches his wrist, drags it close, and with a final swipe, keys in the last code.

The door hisses open.

Matt doesn’t have the time to really survey what’s on the other side. The sentries are coming closer, and raising their weapons to fire again. He’ll just have to hope they aren’t locking themselves in with something worse.

He awkwardly manages to grab Shiro’s left wrist and get an arm around his waist, and winces when Shiro gasps again in agony at his touch. With Shiro more or less flopped awkwardly over his doubled-forward back, rather than in anything resembling an efficient fireman’s carry, Matt manages to drag him through the open door and slap the button to close it.

“Sorry Shiro, I gotta—” Matt says frantically, as he drags Shiro to the panel on the door. With Shiro still balanced precariously against him, he manages to use the paladin wrist computer to seal the door shut with his and Pidge’s own controls. It won’t hold the sentries forever, but it will buy them time.

Immediate threat taken care of, for the next five doboshes at least, Matt turns his attention to Shiro. He sets his friend down against the computer banks on the far wall, and Shiro gasps again as he’s moved.

Now that Matt can see the damage, he can understand why. The paladin armor is incredibly durable, but today it seems to have hit its limit. The jetpack set into the back is shattered, and the armor around Shiro’s back, side, and just under his arm is cracked and burned. Several of the pieces cut into the undersuit and skin beneath, drawing blood.

But the worst injury is the shot to Shiro’s side, just above his hip, which hadn’t even been protected by armor to begin with. That is an awful, bloody hole already leaking red, with tattered burned edges and frayed bits of undersuit melted to the skin.

“What the hell, Shiro?” Matt asks, frantic. He whips off the thick cloak of his rebel uniform and hastily wraps it around Shiro’s waist and back, hoping to stem the bleeding long enough to get help. “Why did you do that?”

Shiro groans at the movement, and the pressure on his injuries, but he doesn’t complain or try to fend Matt off. Instead, he says weakly, “You had to open the door.”

“You can’t—you can’t do that,” Matt hisses, gritting his teeth. He’s trying hard not to be...something, he’s not sure what. Terrified. Overwhelmed. Distraught. His throat feels tight and his eyes prickle painfully, but mostly what it all comes out as is anger. “You can’t do that again, Shiro, not to me. Not for me. Okay?”

He tugs the cloak possibly a little tighter than is strictly necessary in his haste to wrap the wounds properly. Shiro can’t bleed out. Not here, not now, and that wound is bad. He needs a pod as soon as possible.

Shiro gasps, and his fingers twitch reflexively towards the wound at his side. But his eyes meet Matt’s, and they’re full of confusion. “Do what?” he asks, voice hoarse.

“Keep saving me,” Matt says. His throat is tight as he forces the words out, and he still isn’t sure if it’s with dismay or guilt or anger. “Keep taking the hits for me. Trying to get yourself killed to get me out of trouble. You can’t—you can’t do that again, okay. You already sacrificed yourself to save me once, enough is enough.”

“Matt,” Shiro says, slowly. It’s horse and shaky, edged with pain, but he still manages to maintain some degree of calm. “I didn’t die in the arena.”

“I thought you did!” Matt says, as he finishes wrapping the wounds and ties it off as best as he can. “I thought you died in my place. I told myself nobody was ever going to die for me again, and now you’re doing it all over—”

“Matt,” Shiro repeats, with a wince. “I’m not dead yet. Calm down.”

Shiro was like that. He was frustratingly like that, able to stay calm somehow even in the worst situations.

Matt still remembers that day in the arena, disgustingly crystal clear. He can still smell the sawdust and old blood and stale sweat, see the blinding arena lights, feel that raw terror, knowing he was going to die. I’m not going to make it. I’ll never see my family again. And he remember’s Shiro’s answer, his quick thinking in the face of certain death. You can do this. Take care of your father.

Matt was stronger now than he had been back then. He’d seen combat, and he’d thought his way out of hopeless situations, survived against the impossible. He was braver and smarter and more self-sufficient than that naive young kid that went all the way to Kerberos for ice samples and the thought of meeting aliens. But he’d done it all because of that very real fear that still lived in his heart, that other people would have to die for him again because he was too weak to handle it, too scared, too useless, and he never wanted that to happen again.

And yet here they are again, Shiro facing down death in Matt’s place and Matt panicking, and maybe he never really learned anything at all.

No, he tells himself. You’re better than that. You’ve gotten stronger. Nobody ever dies for you again.

He takes a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and lets it carry away his useless panic with it.

You can handle this.

“You’re right,” Matt agrees. “And this time I’m going to make sure we keep you that way.”

Shiro smiles, although the expression is weak. “No argument there.”

Matt nods. His makeshift bandage looks awkward and uncomfortable, but at least it will hold long enough to get Shiro out of there. He stands, presses a finger to the rebel communicator in his ear tuned to the Voltron frequency, and opens communications. “This is Matt. Shiro’s hurt—we’re going to need an extraction, fast.”

“I can’t get to you,” Allura says, from outside. There’s a sharp grunt on her end, no doubt from an impact in the Blue Lion, and several distant blasts. “There are too many fighters. I can try to clear the area for an extraction, but there are too many on me at the moment.”

“Same here,” Olia reports. “This warship is heavily defended. All our ships are engaged.”

“We can get to you,” Pidge says. “If you can hang on for fifteen doboshes. Are you okay?” There’s no mistaking the worry in her tone, and Matt winces a little at that.

“I’m fine. Mostly. It’s just Shiro—”

“I’m okay,” Shiro interrupts.

“You don’t sound okay,” Lance argues immediately. “How bad are you hurt? We’re coming.”

“Not bad enough that I can’t last fifteen doboshes,” Shiro says immediately. His voice is shaky still, and he can’t help but hiss mid-sentence in what’s obviously pain, but Matt can see how hard he fights to maintain as much normalcy as possible.

“Get there in ten, got it,” Hunk says. “On our way.”

Shiro makes an exasperated noise in his throat, and then winces again, hand automatically coming up to press against the cloak-turned-bandage and the wound underneath. “Not like I...haven’t done this before,” he mutters, but his breath hitches painfully. “Why do they always get me in this spot?”

That sounds like a story, but for later. Matt frankly couldn’t care less right now. “Are you okay?”

“I can hang on,” Shiro says, although he finally makes a concession to his injury by tipping his head back against the computer banks, and resting wearily.

From the door comes the first metallic bang of a sentry fist on the other side. It’s so loud even the still-blaring alarms seem quiet by comparison.

Matt and Shiro both watch the door with growing expressions of alarm. “Can they get through?” Shiro asks slowly, after a heavy moment of silence.

Another bang from outside. “Not easily,” Matt says. “I messed with the entry codes. But that won’t stop them from physically breaking through.”

Shiro winces. “Any other way out of here?” he asks, rolling his head tiredly to one side.

Matt glances around, but he doesn’t see any other doors. On the one hand, that’s good; it means no surprise attacks from anywhere else in the room. On the other hand, it means they’re trapped in a box, waiting for the enemy to come through the door after them, guns blazing.

“No,” Matt says, after a moment. Then, “Hang on...”

There’s a vent up by the ceiling. One of the large ones, probably leading to an interior maintenance route. It would be ideal for Pidge to squirrel through, but Matt could probably squeeze into it in a pinch if he had to. He’s always been skinny and small for his age, and not even a decafeeb of training alongside the rebels has done much to change that.

But Shiro would never make it. Even if he was fully healthy, he probably couldn’t; Shiro had way too much bulk and weight, between his metal arm, paladin armor, and an unfairly huge muscles, to ever squeeze his way into that. Wounded as he is, he’d never get up there at all.

Shiro follows his gaze, and his brows furrow. He must be coming to the same conclusions as Matt, but he doesn’t say anything about it for now. Instead, he takes a shuddering, heavy breath, and then groans, “Can you...get the data?”

The data. The mission. The reason they’re in this trap to begin with. Matt glances at the computer banks, wincing slightly at another loud, heavy bang on the other side. “Probably.”

“Do it,” Shiro orders. “If we’re stuck here, we may as well get what we came for.”

Matt can’t really argue with that. There’s nothing to fortify with, and no way to prepare for the inevitable attack. If the doors hold long enough, though, his sister and the other paladins might get here in time, and they’ll need to make a fast exit. Shiro’s life is on the line, but so are millions of others.

“Right,” he says, and gets to work.

He doesn’t have Shiro’s paladin gauntlet computer to work with anymore. Shiro is a little too busy cupping his wound with both hands, and Matt’s not sure if he can stand on his own for long enough to play computer for the hack. But Matt still has his little minicomputer, and he plugs it in quickly.

It takes him only five doboshes to break in and sweep the data into storage on his computer. Pidge could have managed in one and a half, with paladin tech, but five is still nothing to shake a stick at for cracking high-tech Galra software on lockdown. Especially with that anxiety-inducing alarm still blaring loudly through the whole place. When he has everything he needs, he leaves behind a few nasty surprises—viruses that will wipe out the data and everything else. The facilities will still have the blueprints, but at least this fleet won’t have access to them anymore.

“How you holding up, Shiro?” Matt asks, as he unplugs his computer and glances at the door. The bangs on the other side are getting progressively louder, and the door is starting to look a little dented. Not good.

Shiro is also not good. Five doboshes hasn’t done him any favors. His forehead is covered in a thin sheen of sweat now, and his breathing has started getting more labored. His legs are now flopped out in front of him, like he can’t hold them up. Frankly, Matt thinks the only thing holding the rest of Shiro up is the computer console he’s propped against.

“Never better,” Shiro answers immediately. His voice is a little slurred, now, like his tongue is a little too big for his mouth.

Another bang sounds, but this time it’s followed by the unmistakable click-hiss-roar of a torch. The outline of the door starts to glow red as the sentries on the other side take the direct approach, and start cutting their way through.

They are out of time...and still with at least ten doboshes before help is supposed to get there. Five, if Team Weapon rushes, like Hunk had maybe-not-so-jokingly implied.

Matt swallows. How many sentries are out there now? Can he take them all? Shiro’s in no condition to fight; he can’t even sit up under his own power. Can he stall, somehow?

But there’s nothing to block the door with. No explosives or ranged weaponry or even smoke bombs he can use to help. They’re cornered in a box with no way out and no time left.

“Matt...take the data and run.”

Matt whips around to stare at Shiro. “What? No!”

“Millions of lives ride on that data,” Shiro gasps softly. “It’s not worth one. Go out the vent...you can meet up with Pidge and the others…”

“No,” Matt says, and that raw anguish-terror-anger is back. “No. I’m not gonna abandon you to die. Never again.”

“Again?” Shiro slurs. “You didn’t last time, Matt. I made that call. I’m making it now too. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” Matt snaps. “It’s not—I promised myself nobody was ever going to die for me again, not because I couldn’t handle it. I’m not leaving.”

“I gave you an order—”

“You’re not my superior officer anymore,” Matt cuts him off. “You’re a paladin of Voltron, and I’m a rebel agent. This is a rebel mission. My call. And I’m not leaving you helpless to die or be captured again. No.”

Shiro looks shocked, even despite his growing weakness. Maybe it is surprising. Even after Matt had been reunited with Pidge and Shiro, and met the paladins, he’d always treated Shiro with the deference due a superior officer. He’d never been the aggressive sort before, never been the kind to deliberately disobey orders so blatantly. He’d cowered next to Shiro when the Galra took them last time and knew he was already going to die before he ever went to the arena. He never fought back.

There’s a little willingness to bend the rules for what’s right in him now, though. After all, he is a rebel. Rebelliousness is literally in the name.

He glances at the door. They’re halfway through now; he only has a few ticks left to spare. He has to move fast. So he slides his hands under Shiro’s arms and hauls him to the far corner, hopefully as far out of the way as possible from stray gunfire, and partially shielded behind the corner of the computer banks.

Shiro frowns, and does his best to haul himself to his feet to help or protest or something. Whatever he’d had in mind, Matt’s not sure, because he gasps in agony and digs his fingers into the makeshift cloak-bandages over his wound, and immediately sinks. “Matt,” he finally chokes out, when he’s able to breathe again, “don’t do this—”

Matt settles him into the corner, as upright and as shielded as possible. “Hang tight,” he says, ignoring Shiro’s gasping attempt at an order. “We’re both going to make it. We’re both going to see our families again. They’re coming right now.”

“Matt—” Shiro coughs. It’s a disturbingly wet sound, which might mean there’s internal bleeding at work. He needs to get out of here. “You need to run.”

“No,” Matt says, as he draws his collapsible staff from the holster on his leg. “This time, I’m going to be the one to protect you.”

And he takes his place to the side of the door, staff at the ready, watching the gleaming red lines on the outside of the door grow steadily longer.

It’s almost funny. He should be terrified. He remembers so intimately what it was like to face down certain death. And yet, although his heart thuds in his chest and his palms sweat beneath his gloves and his bad leg protests angrily, he’s focused. He’s ready for what comes, and he’s fueled by knowing he’s doing the right thing.

He wonders if this is how Shiro felt, right before he’d charged the sentry, cut Matt out of the gladiator matches, and faced down Myzax. If it was, Matt can understand a little better just how Shiro had managed to do any of that, despite facing down certain death of his own.

The sentries on the other side finish cutting through the door, and a shrieking, scraping noise assaults Matt’s ears as the now useless hunk of metal is shoved out of alignment and smashes inward to the ground. The first of the sentries steps through, gun raised.

And Matt, out of sight to the side of the door, brings one of the weighted ends of his staff swinging down at the vulnerable point at its neck.

That was the thing about building any kind of robot in the image of a humanoid: they might be more durable, made of metal, but they still had mostly the same external weak points. Joints were fair game. So were the thinner points where the frame of the robotic skull attached so it could pivot. A weighted metal staff would do a lot of damage to even a robot, applied correctly.

This robot is no exception. The skull caves alarmingly, metal screeching and tearing, before the whole thing snaps clean off. The metal head pings to the ground and rolls off with a clatter farther into the computer room, and the rest of the body starts to sag, rifle dropping from its metal fingers.

Matt doesn’t let it hit the ground. He spins the staff, catches the broken sentry at its slim waist, and uses the miracle of leverage to hurl the thing right back out into its companions.

The resulting mess is pure chaos. Metal clatters violently as the sentries thud into each other. Stray gunfire peppers the walls inside the computer room, sending sparks flying over the console, and out in the hallway as the robots fire reflexively. Two of the sentries are knocked completely over, and a third—a third, the one that must have brought the torch to cut into the room—steps back, ducking away from its weaponized companion but off balance in its haste.

Matt hurtles through the broken doorway with an angry yell into the chaos.

The upright sentry is the first to have to go. It tries to regain its footing while raising its rifle, firing its first shot at Matt. Matt ducks low, twirls the staff in his hands, and spins it out at the sentry’s ankles. His bad leg protests painfully at the sudden drop and brace, but the trick works; there’s enough force and weight in the blow for him to sweep the sentry off its feet.

The gun goes clattering out of its hands, and Matt presses the attack, whirling the staff into an upright position and stabbing the weighted end down on the sentry’s head like a spear. The casing shatters, and the sentry twitches once or twice before falling still.

Two down. Two to go.

The two sentries left manage to shove the broken one off of themselves. One tries to rise to its feet, while the second decides to try and shoot Matt from the ground instead, providing cover for its remaining operating companion.

Not good. He needs to control the fight better; he’s not sure he can handle a two-on-one fight for long, with the two actually cooperating. He swipes with his staff, but the narrow hallway doesn’t give him too much room to operate with such a long weapon, and he’s not close enough to connect.

Cause more chaos. Disrupt the ordered programming the AI is coded to use by doing the unexpected. Sentries are highly efficient machines, with a shockingly impressive artificial intelligence that Matt would have been foaming at the mouth to study just a few years ago on Earth. But they are still machines, and their reactions are limited.

So he uses his staff like a pole vault, and hurtles himself at the rising sentry.

He connects with his heels as he cannons into the robot, and his old wound screams in agony. He hits the ground hard, rolling, and for a moment he’s actually scared he won’t be getting to his feet again. But he manages, somehow, and staggers to his feet, staff at the ready.

The sentry he’d hit isn’t so lucky. Matt’s vaulted kick had hit it squarely in the chest, and sent its weapon clattering out of reach down the hallway, while it had collapsed a second time. It’s already pushing itself to its feet, reaching for Matt with one hand full of gleaming claws. But Matt bats the hand aside with his whirling staff, and brings the other end crashing down on the robot’s head. It smashes back down to the floor in a mess of parts and goes still.

Three down.

Matt’s panting hard, now, and his leg protests angrily. His knee trembles, and he knows he won’t be standing much longer if he doesn’t finish this.

The final sentry fires at him as it hauls itself to its feet.

Matt curses, and ducks aside, trying to get back to the gouged open doorway for cover. The blasts take a chunk out of his left arm and burn several holes in his clothes, and he gasps in pain, but he keeps running. Almost there, and then he can—

His left knee buckles beneath him.

Matt yelps as he goes down, crashing to the floor and slamming hard into one of the downed sentries. He scrambles to get to his feet, but his knee sends a shock of brilliant pain through him, and he collapses again. Damn it, not now!

The sentry raises its rifle, taking aim. So Matt does the only thing left he can do—he throws his staff at it.

It misses, which isn’t surprising. Staves aren’t exactly easy to throw well, especially in a narrow hallway like this. But it does cause the sentry to be distracted, twisting to shoot at the projectile hastily.

That gives Matt enough time to make a scrambling dive for one of the other discarded firearms, snatch it up, and shoot in the sentry’s direction.

Guns were never really his forte. He’d trained in them at the Garrison, of course, because it was required, but he’d never liked it as much as the science and engineering aspects. He’d trained in firearms with the rebels, too, when they’d taken him on, but he’d still never really liked them.

That doesn’t mean he’s useless with them. He can certainly hit a target that close, even with a heavy sentry rifle. He fires frantically, and the sentry jerks once, twice, three times as it’s hit point blank and collapses.

Matt pants, breaths harsh and ragged. He hurts in more places than one, and he’s gonna have bruises for days. His leg is screaming for relief.

But he’d done it. He won.

Nobody had to die for him.

His relief is short lived. He barely manages to force his leg to take his weight—just a little more, please just a little more—when several more shots ping off the walls near him. He glances up, and down the hall are half a dozen more sentries, stomping their way unrelentingly forward with their rifles at the ready.

Matt curses, staggers along the hallway to the fallen sentry and his staff, and manages to snatch it up as he hobble-runs for the computer room where Shiro is still stashed. He leans heavily on the staff like a walking stick, and keeps the stolen rifle in his other hand. He might be able to hold them off for a little while with the gun. Maybe.

Shiro is still conscious when he ducks inside to temporary safety, but barely. His face has gone an ashen gray color, and his eyes are only half lidded. His hands are still pressed weakly to the makeshift bandages at his side, but Matt can see the brown fabric starting to stain a darker, wetter color.

They’re out of time, in more ways than one.

“Y’r hurt,” Shiro slurs, blinking blearily at the way Matt limps over to him.

“Not as bad as you,” Matt says. “Hang tight—there are more coming.” And I know I can’t fight them all off.

“Run,” Shiro orders tiredly.

“I told you already, I’m not doing that. If we can just hold…”

Shiro hums at that. Matt has a feeling he knows how truly screwed they are, though, and it’s not a comforting thought.

The clank of sentry feet gets closer, and every metallic thud is like a death knell, underscored by the screaming alarms. Matt is scared now, but if he leaves Shiro’s chances drop to nothing. He can’t do that. Shiro’s his best friend, and had risked everything to give him a chance to see his family again. He won’t leave now. He won’t leave ever.

So although it literally, physically pains him, he takes up a position by the door again. His leg screams in protest, and he’s shaking from a mix of pain, fear and pure adrenaline. But he holds.

The first sentry comes into view. It raises its firearm, aiming squarely at Matt. Matt prepares to charge, spinning his staff into a ready position.

The sentry goes down in a blaze of yellow energy that cannons into it from the other side of the hallway. And fainter, but growing louder by the second, Matt can hear the unmistakable, angry-panic yell of protest as Hunk lays down cover fire and demolishes the oncoming robots.

“Shiro! Matt!” Lance hollers over the coms, and Matt is deliriously relieved to find he can hear it in real time, too. “Escort’s here!”

“Thank goodness,” Matt pants back, lowering his staff from a combat stance to lean on it heavily again like a walking stick. “I need your help to get Shiro out of here. He can’t walk.”

“Can,” Shiro murmurs sleepily. He makes a valiant effort to rise to his feet, or at least, Matt thinks that’s what he does. His legs barely twitch, but he still groans at the effort.

“I’m guessing whatever that was didn’t work,” Lance yells. “Hunk, I’ll cover you if more show up—grab Shiro.”

“On it!”

“Where’s Pidge?” Matt asks, worried. “She’s okay?”

“I’m guarding the rear exit with the Green Lion,” Pidge says. “We’re in camo, and your ride out.”

“Just two hallways away,” Lance adds. A blue streak of flight flashes past the doorway as Lance snipes something on the other side. “Not far, once we get you guys.”

“Good,” Matt says, relieved. He’s not sure he could run very far. Or even walk. He’s never pushed himself quite this hard before.

He doesn’t regret doing it for a second, though.

Hunk appears around the doorway, dispelling his bayard as he steps in on the collapsed door. He winces sympathetically at Matt, and then follows Matt’s gesture towards Shiro in the corner. “Oooh,” Hunk mutters. “Is that blood? I hate blood.”

“Sorry,” Shiro mumbles. By now, he’s barely coherent.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hunk says, as he heads over to Shiro. “If I throw up, I’ll try not to do it on you.”

“Thanks.” Shiro blinks dazedly. “I think.”

“You’re welcome.”

Hunk tries to sling Shiro’s arm over his shoulder at first to help him walk, but Shiro can’t stay on his feet. In the end, he hefts Shiro into a fireman’s carry slung across his shoulders, mindful of the wound in his side. Shiro groans in protest, but goes frighteningly limp after a few moments, and Matt realizes he’s finally passed out. Matt’s honestly impressed it took so long.

“You good?” Hunk asks, gesturing to Matt and his staff-turned-walking-stick with concern.

“I can keep up,” Matt promises. “Let’s go.”

By some miracle, they manage to make it to their exit point. Pidge had kept the Green Lion in camo, while using her bayard to slice a hole into the Galra ship’s hull. It makes an unpredictable exit, which means the sentries aren’t guarding it like they are all the bay doors. That’s his brilliant little sister, always thinking outside the box.

Getting Shiro through the hole is a process, and requires Hunk to hand him through to Lance and Pidge on the other side as carefully as possible. Matt getting through is less of a process, but no less painful, and by the time he’s in the Lion’s cabin his leg has decided on no uncertain terms that it is not working any more today, thank you very much.

But they’ve escaped, so he can live with that. For now.

“Mission accomplished,” he radios over the coms. “Everyone, let’s get out of here.”

They do.

———

It takes Shiro almost a full day to get out of the healing pods, and everyone is waiting to greet him when he does.

Everyone knows the story by now—Matt hadn’t been shy about sharing it—and Shiro is treated to a number of lectures and exaggerated threats about what will happen next time he tries to almost get himself killed. Even Keith, still working with the Blade of Marmora, calls back to give Shiro hell, after learning what had happened through the Blade’s impressive information network.

Shiro accepts the threats and lectures without too much complaint, at least. He knows exactly how much he’d scared everyone, and he damn well should.

Eventually everyone gets tired of telling Shiro off, though, and Hunk announces he has dinner waiting. Most people who leave the pods are hungry—something about the accelerated healing requiring nutrients to compensate—and it’s habit by now to at least have a bowl of food goo ready to go.

��Sounds great,” Shiro says. “Can I get a sec with Matt, though?”

“Of course,” Allura says. “We’ll be in the dining hall when you are ready.”

Everyone files out, other than Matt, who waits patiently where he’s sitting on the steps. Shiro joins him, sitting down next to him. After a moment he asks, “How’re you doing?”

Matt shrugs. “I’m okay. I used one of the pods a little bit myself, but mostly to patch up a few laser grazes and bruises.”

Shiro nods slowly, and then gestures to Matt’s left leg, stretched out in front of him down the steps. “And how’s your knee?”

“Better than it was yesterday,” Matt says truthfully. The pods didn’t really help with healing the old wound—it had been too long—but they did help relieve some of the inflammation and strain, which let him at least walk on it again without wanting to scream.

Shiro’s got that look again, so Matt cuts him off quickly. “We already talked about this. No apologies. I’ll take living with a chronic injury over having died over a year ago.”

Shiro sighs. “Right. Of course.”

They fall into a companionable silence for a little while. Matt likes talking with friends, but on the months-long journey to Kerberos there had been a lot of friendly silence too, and he’s just as comfortable with that around Shiro. There’s no real rush to go anywhere, and sitting is nice.

But eventually Shiro asks, “What was that all about, back on the ship? Why didn’t you run?” A pause. “It’s not because of that life-debt you think you owe me, right? Because I told you, you don’t owe me anything.”

Matt snorts. “Yeah, you were pretty clear on that. But that’s not why I stayed. I mean...not the only reason.” He stares at his feet. “I told you before, I just...I can’t let people die for me anymore. I have to be better than that. I can’t just watch that happen and stand by and do nothing anymore.”

“It was a bad situation, Matt. And you would have been protecting millions of lives. I would never have blamed you if you did run.”

“Well, I would have blamed me,” Matt says. “For the rest of my life, for being cowardly enough to abandon my friend to his death again.”

“I already said that wasn’t your fault either, Matt,” Shiro says, a little helplessly.

Matt shakes his head. Sighs. “I wasn’t ready back then,” he says. “For all this. I wanted to meet aliens, but I figured they’d be the friendly sort, y’know? ‘We come in peace.’ I wasn’t ready and you and dad ended up paying the price.” He narrows his eyes. “I couldn’t have been ready then, but I can be ready now. And I’m not gonna be that person ever again.”

“Matt,” Shiro says, frowning at him. “There was nothing wrong with that version of you either. None of us could have seen the Galra coming.”

“You still handled it,” Matt says, with a sad smile. “You stood up for me and dad. You took my place in a deathmatch.”

“Maybe, but that’s just because we’re different people,” Shiro says with a shrug. “I didn’t know anything about ice samples back then. Still don’t, honestly. I just drove you there, you and Commander Holt were doing all the important science stuff.”

“Somehow, I don’t think ice samples are going to make much of a difference now,” Matt says wryly. “Other things matter more.”

“Well, you made a difference today,” Shiro says. “So thanks for that. I really mean it—I’d be dead if you weren’t as stubborn as your sister about staying behind.” He grins.

Matt smirks. “Yeah...that runs in the family.”

“I know,” Shiro says. “Three sentries on your own in crowded conditions, huh?”

“Four,” Matt says. “It’s no Myzax, but even so…”

“Still impressive. Don’t ever discount yourself, Matt. You’re a lot stronger than you think.” Shiro smiles. “And don’t discount the old Matt, either. He had that Holt stubbornness, too. That’s how you got this far.”

Matt blinks, but then smiles softly. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“No ‘maybe,’” Shiro says, as he heaves himself to his feet off the steps. “It’s absolutely true. Anyway, we should probably get going, before Hunk hunts us down and drags us to the dinner table. You ready?” He holds out a hand.

Matt takes it, and lets Shiro help him to his feet. His left leg takes his weight stiffly, but it holds, and that’s what matters.

“Yeah. Thanks, Shiro.”

#Velkynkarma writes #April Fools 2020 #Voltron #Shiro #Matt Holt #blood #injury #whump #Anonymous

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angelnumber27 · 3 years

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Checking in! I know you've been having a hard time lately with physical and mental health. You don't need to answer this if you don't want to but youre going to be alright. Take care of yourself make sure you're taking meds if you need them. Stay safe okay!!!

Thank you sweet heart! I really appreciate you checking up 💓😇 Im doing much better today :) I finally got some sleep after two days and had a calm and good day 🤍🤍🧚🏻‍♂️💆🏻‍♀️🕊 I made some art, did a study on fungi and their shapes and did a lot of productive things like cleaning up and reading and writing :) my body is extremely sore like everywhere but I don’t mind as long as I’m not in full panic mode constantly. That happens occasionally. I take my meds exactly as prescribed every single day! I know myself and I know how important it is to be consistent with what I am putting in my body because my body is incredibly sensitive to changes, especially chemical ones. Therefore, its not withdrawal from medication, things would be much much MUCH worse if that was the case. I’m talking crying endlessly every waking minute and not being able to stop, calm down or self-soothe and suicidal ideation that I can’t shake, severe brain zaps every 2-5 minutes, feeling hot, nauseous, restless, sometimes I’ll get like muscle aches and spasms, and bad depression as well as all of my severe and unmanageable ocd symptoms immediately flooding back. Those rare times when I accidentally run out of medication or when I’m not able to take it for a few days for whatever reason, make me realize just how much my medication is helping and how much of a difference it makes. I’m like damn I must have felt SO horrible before I was prescribed.. or it’s likely that it wasn’t really that bad before but since my body is now used to receiving the medication every day it becomes that bad when I don’t take it for like 72 hours. Its kind of sad bc I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop taking it. Idk about anybody else but honestly I think I would rather take one little pill daily than experience awful constant panic, hysterical crying, deep fear and impending doom. It’s worth it for me. Of course everyone is different and the medication that has been life-changing for me could very well make the next person feel suicidal. Everybody has different brain chemistry and unfortunately it takes some trial and error to find what works for you but I think (depending on the situation ofc) it is worth it to give it a try. So sorry for rambling, that’s just how my mind works lol. I think of one thing and a million other things stem from that. I don’t know if people understand this but when I say I have racing thoughts I mean seriously RACING thoughts. Nonstop, super ‘loud’ and intrusive thoughts bombarding my brain from every angle that are very very difficult to turn off or soothe. Anyway all in all I am doing well and I am staying as safe as possible. I was thinking about it today and honestly considering my situation and everything I have been through, I am doing extremely well and I am incredibly healthy. For somebody in my position, with my trauma, having being stalked and harassed daily for the past four years by somebody who knows about my trauma, the false sense of loneliness, severe depression, panicky tendencies, unbridled stress, negative surroundings, patterns of thinking, memories of abuse and the ways that has taught me to view myself, as well as the various mental illnesses I am constantly combatting, I’m excelling all things considered lol.

If anybody actually read this this far thank you SO much you’re an angel and I appreciate you caring about me and my wellbeing more than you know. I really really hope everybody is having a beautiful day and that you are all in a position in life that is comfortable and safe.

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ddaeng-angmoh · 3 years

Text

Shelter Blues-

You had always enjoyed working at the Hybrid Shelter, you had a chance to help hybrids that were unloved find homes. You had always treated the hybrids as if they were your own and never had an interest in adopting your own because they were always enough. At least that was before you found the ill-tempered hybrid in your bosses office. The russian blue was rude, invasive, and crude. You had a way of getting him angry, and you never realized why until it was too late.

She was supposed to be the typical hybrid lover, but there's too much of that. So here's an unedited first chapter to boost those moods out there.

"You're late." Yoongi said as he looked up from his phone. His tail flicked behind him, the fur was puffed from his agitation. It was reminiscent of a winter scarf, instead of portraying fear, it gave feelings of comfort and warmth. His eyes, they didn't focus on You long. Within seconds he had shuffled himself back onto his seat. His desk served as a valuable hideaway, protecting You from seeing anymore of his tail. It was a relief when he started to hide his more feline traits at work. The thought of a mutt working for a company was shock enough without him showing off. Every forbidden part of him was a blaring reminder of the blunders of humanity. How knowledge could warp what had been pure and right.

"Am I?" With a smile You removed your scarf and bundled it up. "The weather was so cold, I thought I might slip if I went too fast. I'll have to apologise later. It's a good thing I'm only volunteering." Your lip twitched down when You saw the fur of his ears pushing out from his toque. A shudder worked its way down Your spine as you averted your gaze. The scent of the inhabitants within was enough to turn you around. If agitated animals smelt bad, You were sure that hybrids smelt worse. The sweat of humans and the pheromones of animals was never meant to mix so intimately, of this the scent assured You. "Tell Jimin to buy bleach. I'll clean this building myself if I have to," You said as you dropped your coat on Yoongi's desk. You heard no response as You walked towards the backroom. Safety was a mere hall away from the animals. The sound of Your entrance hadn't awoken the hybrids, but as soon as You opened the door to the back room, the starts of tired mewls filled your ears. Disgusting. It was a task to hide Your revolution towards the mutts. It wasn't easy finding work in the city, and every job looked for Hybrid Activists. With a snort You pushed earbuds in and turned up Your music. Everybody made it their job to accept the abominations into society, and so you had to wear that mask as well. If it wasn't so valued, You would already be working Your way to a happy retirement. Instead You learnt empty compliments.

Look at your tail! It suits you!

Aw, your fluff is so cute!

Given away? How could they, you're so sweet!

You heaved a dusty box of papers onto the table as a scowl disfigured Your face. Every day You volunteered at the Park Feline Shelter was a nightmare. The dream of a job tortured You daily as the creatures smiled at You, trying to play and talk. They had no business pretending to be human. Yet You had to play along. It was a cruel game meant to torture the right of mind into the insanity of the Hybrid craze. But you couldn't fall into it, You couldn't be weak. Someone had to be strong and remember the truth, that those animals weren't human.

"Y/N?" Yoongi opened the door, his dark eyes were fixed on You and You had no doubt he smelt your distaste on the air. Their disturbing knack for scenting human pheromones was enough to send sensitive women red. His slender fingers played at the edge of the door, as if he were waiting for Your permission to speak. Uncharacteristic. If anybody else saw him they wouldn't believe it, but it was all You knew of him.

"Yes?" You said, and a flat look was directed at the secretary. Pretend? With him? No, he didn't matter. Jimin wouldn't believe a word the troll said. But, there was something unsettling in his eyes. You couldn't escape the feeling that he clung to Your every move. "Or are you just here for tea," a growl ripped at your throat, and his fingers gripped the door frame tightly. Your nose flared when his lips parted, another odd expression was on his face. It was as though he were taunting you, every emotion he displayed was foreign to You. It fit, however, when You remembered that he was just a glimpse of a human, not truly right. Unlike You, of course.

"Jimin wanted me to tell you that the files he wanted you to digitalize are on his desk. Those were already done." Yoongi's chin jutted towards the box you had, before he tilted his head. "I could get them?" He questioned. Soft, his voice was far too gentle for Your ears. You saw how obstinate he could be, he had chewed out a volunteer for getting water on his desk once. It was his drink but that hardly mattered. Yoongi had yelled at another human once for getting in his way- he had no problem speaking out. Yet he always curled in on himself when You looked his way.

"Don't bother." You said with a grimace. It was with reluctance that You looked at him directly again. The familiar feeling of discomfort settled in Your stomach as his eyes brightened.

"Are you sure?" Yoongi lowered his gaze and stepped away from the door, already anticipating when You would push by him to get the paperwork. "He said there is a couple hours of work in it- it will be a few boxes. They might be heavy." He said as he flinched, hearing the screeching of Your chair when You stood up was enough to make him curl up again.

"If I needed help, I would ask. Go do your job." Disgust dripped from your lips as You made Your way to pass him. Instead of shrinking back, Yoongi seemed to lean in as You passed. "Keep your distance." The thought of him sniffing Your scent was enough to make You feel sick. It had crossed Your mind before, what they smelt- Was it lemons? Cookies? Flowers? The descriptions You had heard for human musk bordered on ridiculous at the best of times. Yet the thought still resurfaced. Whenever Yoongi's nose twitched You wondered what his twisted nose smelt. A shudder worked it's way down Your spine and you fastened a glare on the hall before you.

Was it worth it to work around all the hybrids? In the past, the answer might have been yes, it might have even been something you would have loved to do. But the feeling of Yoongi's eyes on you reminded you of what made them monsters. They were mere animals hiding in the skin of a human.

"I can taste it." Yoongi's voice was soft and tentative. "How much you hate me." It almost made you pause, but you promised yourself you wouldn't fall for it. You promised yourself you wouldn't make the same mistakes your friend did.

Maybe he didn't deserve it. The fear from your bigotry pulled on your shoulders, and it screamed in your ears. It was weakness that you still hated them, weakness that you still cried at night after your shifts. You had to be strong, and fight to remember why you were so angry- "Maybe I don't hate you." You spoke up after you shook the anxiety from your body. "Maybe it's what you are."

Maybe he was exactly what you feared. The mere idea of him being a threat, seemed both uncanny and terrifying. So when you opened the office door to get the files, you turnd and glared at the offending feline. "Stay away from me, I mean it."

His eyes darkened as he looked away. Yoongi wasn't offended, not like he usually was. There was no angry words or seething quips. Instead he sent a wilted smile toward you, one that tried to stir up remnants of guilt. "Of course." He said. He didn't push, and you didn't settle until you heard his steps go further away.

It was later that day when he started to show himself again. Your volunteering session was almost over, and the boxes of papers to be digitised had been worked through fairly well. It had been a silly hope that you would leave unnoticed, one broken when the door creaked open to show a familiar hybrid. "Jimin wants you working with hybrids tomorrow." He said as his slender fingers tugged his toque down. His dark eyes drifted up, and he watched your expression, waiting for a sign of your distaste.

"I'm supposed to stay to paperwork." Dismay tore through you, leaving a frightful mess or nerves and stress. "I'm not ready yet," it was barely a whisper, but you could feel his eyes focus on you. His silence felt disturbingly knowing, as if he knew why you hated him, hated his kind, and hated your few moments alone.

"He likes your hardwork," his sneakers squeaked against the ground as he kicked at the air.

"If you have something to say, just say it." You spoke bitingly, hoping he would leave. Instead he flinched and regarded you with a meek frown pulling at his lips. "You're going to play that game again?" Frustration pulled at your heart as you glared up at him. "I know you're not some coward, I see you with everyone else. If you have something to say, I'm not going to wait any longer."

"Ah-" Yoongi's head jerked down, and he had finally stopped squeaking his shoes, resorting instead to biting his lip. "I'm not some push-over. I promise," there was something coy in his eyes when he looked back up at you.

"Tell that to somebody who cares." With an aggravated sigh you stood up and shoved your phone in your pocket. Your volunteering work didn't feel worth it anymore. Not when he was looking at you so seriously.

"You care," his voice wavered as he spoke, and he gulped at the frustrated glare you sent his way. "I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N." Yoongi left the door open behind him as he stalked down the hall. You couldn't help but watch his tail as it curled around his thigh. A shudder shook you again as you averted your gaze, it just wasn't right. It wasn't natural, and you wished that for once somebody would listen to you.

"I hope not." It was a useless thing to hope for. As the receptionist he was always there, lurking and watching for something to get involved with. It always left a bitter taste in your mouth when he focused his attention on you, there was something about him that made you feel small and insignificant. It didn't matter that he would cower and shy away, what mattered was that he would watch you till the end. Every time you tried to hide a sneer or choked out a compliment he would watch. He never told anyone, instead he seemed-

"I don't care," you said as you forced your way through the room. Even speaking out loud, you couldn't convince yourself of it. The memory of his gaze felt like it was burning into you. Was it normal for someone's eyes to sear their way under your eyelids? You refused to dissect him, and his curious gazes. It was better to leave that behind. And so, you closed the door behind you and rushed your way to the entrance of the shelter. The doors to the kennel clicked shut as you passed it, a curious Jimin watched your rushed departure with curiosity. He didn't spare a second glance through the door's window, and instead continued on. He wasn't aware of the fear that was growing in you, or how close you were to falling apart.

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yanderebtsstorytime · 5 years

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Yandere Demon Taehyung

"Hello can I have as many tickets that this will get me," I say as my father hands me a 100 dollar bill to buy our families tickets for the day. The old man working the ticket stand smiles and hands me a large role of tickets. I thank him and join my family.

We walk throughout the park going on ride after ride, playing game after game until we come across a certain horror ride that got me and my brothers excited. It was almost Halloween after all and we needed our fair share of horror.

My parents agree to let me and my two older brothers go on it and gave us the tickets telling us that they were going to go get us something to drink while we were on the ride.

"Aw it's only a two person ride, are you cool going by yourself?," My older brother Adam ask and I smile nodding, "Yep, plus I don't want to deal with either of you screaming like babies," I say and they chuckle ruffling my hair as they climb into the car and go off on their way. I stand and wait for my turn and then get on the ride, no one was behind me so I got to go alone making the scary experience all the better.

The ride starts and I hold tight to my seat as jump scare after jump scare flies at me, a few screams leaving my lips every once and while. I was halfway through when the ride stops completely and I'm left in total darkness.

My heart rate increasing as something moves quickly by me, "Wow, they did really good on this one this year," I say as a light turns on and a man stands a few feet in front of me. He was actually really good look for an anima-tronic, his hair was blonde and his skin was pale white. He had a rather sexy smirk on his face as he looked at me, his eyes going from brown to blue.

He takes a step forward and I watch as he gets closer and closer until he's right in-front of me. He slowly reaches his hand out towards me and smiles, I watch as his eyes turn completely black. "Finally I have you, and I'll never let you go," He says and then everything goes dark again and the ride starts up. I look around trying to find the horror prop but I couldn't. "I wonder what Adam and Josh think about that one," I say out loud ready to talk with my brothers about how well they put together this year's horror house.

The ride nears its end and two doors open up letting me back outside of the ride. I blink a few times to adjust to the sun shining down on my face and then look around. Everyone was gone.

Once the ride stops completely I get out of the cart and rush down the steps onto the ground and towards an open area looking around me, everyone was gone. "Hello!," I yell, "Mom! Dad! Adam Josh!," I yell as I start to run around, "ANYBODY," I scream as I start to panic about the park being empty.

Looking around frantically I see a tall figure a few yards away standing at the cotton candy stand, "Hey, excuse me what's going on!," I yell running towards him, "Hey Mr," I say stopping in front of him tapping his shoulder, he turns and my eyes widen as the prop from the horror house stands in front of me but in a different set of clothes.

Now he was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans with tares in them and a black button up that was tucked in. "Hello there," He says and I take a step back, "But you're a... how'd you? Never mind... do you know where everyone went?," I ask watching his every move. He smiles and tilts his head, "Somewhere where they can't bother us," He says and I take a step back as he takes a step forward.

"What's going," I ask in a panicked voice as the sky goes from a bright happy baby blue to a deep blood red. "Finally I have you all to myself, you have no idea how long I've waited for this moment," He says and then disappears to reappear behind me. I scream and turn to face him backing up quickly only to lose my footing and fall backwards.

"Please, don't hurt me, just-just leave me alone," I say as tears start to well up in my eyes. He smirks down at me and kneels in front of me grabbing my face running his thumb over my cheek. "Why would I hurt what's mine, I like to keep my things nice and pretty, and you are no exception," He says and then grabs me pulling me up. I stand in front of him as his hands wonder my body grabbing and pulling at everything he can touch.

"God you're so perfect,"He growls pulling me closer to him I yelp and close my eyes in hopes that everything will stop and this man will just go away. He leans down and kisses my cheek, "Open your eyes," He says softly and I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, he growls, "Open them," He says harshly and I whimper slowly opening my eyes to come face to face with his pure black ones.

"You looks so beautiful when you're afraid," He says and he leans closer his lips being inches from mine, "You always have this look in your eyes that makes me want to devour you whole," He says and leans forward kissing me.

I stand frozen in my spot as he sucks and licks at my lips. He pulls away with his eyes closed as he licks his lips, "Fuck you taste amazing, just like I imagined," He says with a chuckle as he opens his eyes that had return to a bright blue, "I used to be so angry and irritated with not having you in my arms but this is definitely worth the wait; you were worth the wait," He says and then leans forward kissing my cheek.

"Please let me go," I whisper looking down at the ground as tears stream down my face. He growls and lets out a chuckle as he pulls me closer, "Now why would I do that?," He ask only for me to fall silent, "It doesn't matter anyway I may not be able to take you with me now, but I will soon, until then let me give you a taste of what awaits you if you choose to go against me, if you choose to touch someone else that isn't me," he says and within a second our surroundings change. He lets me go and I look around in horror at everything around me.

Some people hung from the ceiling on hooks placed in the center of their back, others were being torn apart by demonic looking creatures, and some where being whipped while working. We stood next to a river that looked as black as tar but when taking a closer look I found faces passing by in it, much like lost souls being carried away by the stream. Creatures stood across the black river watching me and Taehyung, their faces distorted and horrifying.

I scream and clinging to Taehyung as a massive hound monster thing starts to run towards us, tears streaming down my face.

Taehyung chuckles and wraps his arm around me, "Aw what's wrong love? Did Yeontan scare you," He says patting the creatures head. I start to sob and I hid my face in his chest. "Make it stop please," I cry as the sounds I hadn't heard before being to distracted with my surroundings, flood my ears. It was of people screaming, some in pain, some in horror, and some in sorrow. It was all to much.

I press my hands against my ears trying to stop the sounds from getting in as I let out a scream and close my eyes. Then everything stops, no more sound, no more horrible creatures and surrounds everything stops. And I'm left in darkness again, "See you soon love," He is deep voice says as a pair of lips land on mine kissing me one last time.

I take a deep breath and blink only to see I'm still on the ride and it's almost over. The doors open up letting me outside of the ride and I look around to see my two brothers waiting for me with smiles on their faces. "Hey how'd you like it, it was kind of stupid right," Josh says and I stand there as my eyes fill up with tears and I lung forward hugging both of them tightly. "Woah you okay?," Adam ask and I nod, "Yeah Yeah I fine, just don't let me go on that ride alone again," I say and they nod seeing a few tears fall from my eyes.

'What did I say baby girl/ baby boy, no touching anyone but me. Unless you want them to suffer' his deep voices rings throughout my head and I immediately let go of my brothers. 'Good girl/ Good boy, you learn fast, that'll help you in the long run'He says again and I look down at the ground while grabbing my hair. 'Please stop' I think only for my thought to be followed by a dark chuckle. 'Never' He says.

"(N/n) are you okay?," Adam ask and I nod, "Yeah... I'm just hungry let's go get something to eat," I say and they nod as we all walk off looking for our parents.

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serenagaywaterford · 5 years

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1) Hey, it's me again. The idiot rambling anon. I wasn't gonna spam you again, but then I read your responses. At this point, I'm convinced you're my alter ego, lol. My thoughts are all over the place, but I'll try to organize them. So, about Nick. I've purposely avoided talking about him so far, but why the hell not? Let me make one thing clear: I'm NOT of of those thirsty fangirls. But even if I was? I wouldn't get offended or butthurt, because another person likes different fictional

2) characters (of all things) than me. I mean, big fucking deal. Each to their own, no need for apologies. ;) (My tone is a little aggressive, I know, but I’m sick and tired of some people on social media –in and out of fandoms– acting holier-than-thou and sending hate messages and even actual death threats (!) to creators or people that express unpopular opinions*. It’s reached a point where many people feel the need to put disclaimers in their posts so as not to be attacked.)

3) Back to Nick. I liked him just fine back in early S1, when he was all mysterious and his background story was unknown to us. When we did learn about it and the fandom started acting like he’s that pure, handsome angel uwu? Nah. Obviously, he’s no Fred/Serena/Lydia,but he’s not a “cinnamon roll” either. (Imo, the only decent dude on that show is Luke.) I mean, if Nick was SO altruistic, he wouldn’t have joined this job. Or even after everything went down, he could have tried to help other

4) handmaids without expecting anything in return. But no, he only helps June and that’s because he’s in love with her. I’m not blaming him for trying to survive under such circumstances, but I won’t idolize him either. Now, in s2? I’m kinda neutral about him. I don’t hate him, but I can’t say that I’m a fan either. Not gonna lie, he bores me at times, because he’s just… there. No sparks, no fireworks. Not sure if it’s the writing that doesn’t do the actor any favors, but his acting hasn’t

5) really drawn me in yet. A counterexample to this? Aunt Lydia. Her personality is despicable 98% of the time and yet. Dowd’s captivating performance makes me want to know so much more about her character.) On the other hand, I’m glad that June has someone (besides Rita) to back her up in that hellhole. She needs comfort and allies. But the whole ‘tRu Love 5eva" fanon thing? No, thanks. Not only it doesn’t fit the tone of the series, but I also believe that sharing an intense, forbidden love/

6) during such a shitstorm is not the same thing as keeping it alive after all is said and done (post-Gilead). Maybe they’ll stay together (as long as Nick doesn’t die), maybe they’ll fall apart. I can’t really see June romantically reconnecting with Luke either. After everything she’s been through… She’s a completely different person now. Unfortunately, the same things goes for Emily and her wife. Even though I’d love to see her interact with both her wife and her child in S3.

———

My inbox is so beautiful right now! Never, ever call yourself an idiot, my friend. (If you are, then so am I!) Brain twins, you see.

(Also sorry about this being out of order lol.)

I was trying not to talk about him too cos generally I just … I prefer not to think about him much. The fangirls, just, *sigh*. I try to avoid as much as possible in this fandom, esp on tumblr. Just hang out in my quiet little, not-Serena-hating corner. I always feel a need to put disclaimers these days cos as much as I don’t really care about random hate, I’d prefer not to have to deal with dogpiles or to look at it lmao. Like people can go around just hating on any character here–especially if they’re women–but say one critical (not even hateful) thing about their male fav and things just go off.

I’m more than aware the majority of people don’t like Serena and think she’s the worst thing ever. And fair play! (I get it… cos I’m not delusional. She’s awful.) Each to their own. I don’t go around bitching at people who say shitty things or stuff I don’t agree with, or blocking anybody who doesn’t like her. (There are a few posts I do engage with cos normally they seem like they want to go deeper in The Discourse but most Serena/Lydia/Eden/Janine/June-hate I just ignore.)

ITA. S1 was, like, okay. That’s Nick. What’s he up to? What’s his deal? (I don’t really care but I’m not opposed to him either. Just like I didn’t care about Luke’s backstory/escape.) He’s trying to be good to June and she needs that.When we did learn his backstory I was not pleased cos he seemed like a twerp but whatevs. Grey characters are grey. It wasn’t until S2 that I started to get irked by him (and the hypocrisy of his fans but that’s a whole other issue).

I can’t agree ANY more with your assessment of Nick. Like that’s EXACTLY what I’ve been saying! Firstly, he was RIGHT THERE when the Handmaid/Ceremony thing was first suggested and was like “Oh, yeah, great idea!” to Fred. I get that perhaps he was pressured to go along to keep his job but that’s a stretch imo, and if you can give him that sort of leeway, why can’t characters like Eden, Serena, Lydia and June get the same benefit of the doubt for certain things? Why is Nick’s pressure to keep his job more important and forgivable than anybody else’s pressures? It’s like that entire scene doesn’t exist to fangirls and Nick is so precious and in love and wonderful. Then there’s the rape of June. Like I know it’s pretty controversial to look at it that way, but that first time, with Serena overseeing it like a fucking creepy pimp (YUUUUUUCCCKKKKK I HATE IT THANKS) was rape. June barely knew the guy and I’m pretty sure if she wanted to have sex with him it wouldn’t be like that! And sure, after that, it was totally consensual but that first time was not. And I’ve heard the justification and excuses of “Well, Nick didn’t have a choice either!” which I call bullshit on, cos Nick is not some powerless delivery boy.

He’s a fucking Guardian who is tight with the top Commanders. He’s a man, if nothing else. Serena can act all high and mighty but she’s still a woman in a highly misogynistic society. I’m not convinced Fred would take his wife’s word over Nick’s tbh, especially if it was like “Dude, your crazy wife asked me to fuck the Handmaid you’re obsessed with”. If he really didn’t want to do it that badly, he could have taken that chance to report Serena. Even if Fred wanted to keep it hush hush away from other Commanders, he would have gone after Serena. Men are far more likely to turn on women than each other, esp in THT. But that’s just my take. Maybe I am missing something about Nick’s status. To me, it was like double rape. Neither of them wanted to do it, like that anyway. But Nick also did fuck all to stop it when IMO he did have some power to do something. He is not a helpless victim in that society, imo. Again, probably not a well-received opinion.

Don’t even get me started on his “Poor me!” routine in S2 when June tells him to have sex with Eden. I’m glad she called him on that bullshit. (But again, over the fangirls heads. Enough about them!)

Basically, everything Nick has done wrong isn’t his choice; he’s just a victim. In a story about women, Nick’s victimhood at the hands of these nasty women and men is the real issue. Blah. Whatever.

I just find Nick lacks total self-awareness about being part of the shitty ass system. He kind of just floats around thinking nothing is his fault and he’s blameless for it all, and he certainly can’t seem to see it from anyone’s perspective except his own. He’s upset about Fred & June’s Jezebel trips, not for her own safety or well-being but mainly he’s jealous. Of course he’s concerned about her safety but I believe it takes a backseat to his jealousy. He just seems to never take any responsibility for anything.

And BINGO about the previous Handmaid. Nothing we’ve been shown has given any hint he cares about any other woman’s plight in Gilead other than June, and only cares about her cos he had a crush/fucked her/is in wuv wiv her. Basically, she’s HIS so suddenly he cares about her. Look how fast he dumped that Martha as soon as he got brooding about June. He’s done fuckall for anybody except himself and that alone makes me dislike him. He’s no better than Fred in that way for me. But where Fred can occasionally be an interesting villain, cos Fiennes is nasty good, I find the actor who plays Nick just… not engaging. And he’s not SUPPOSED to be a villain! He’s meant to be a good guy! It’s crazy. He’s not compelling, he’s not interesting. He’s bland. He’s not even good looking, lol. I was watching with a friend once and mention I thought Fred was way better looking than Nick and she just stared at me and said, “You shouldn’t say that. But me too.” So, count me in the camp that just does not get the appeal of the character OR the actor.

I don’t hate Nick generally. I am just totally indifferent to his existence. If he left the show tomorrow, I’d shrug and probably be a little glad I don’t have to see that bland moping anymore. If he stays, oh well. Shrug. And I just don’t want his and June’s star-crossed romance shoved down my throat. It’s so… I dunno. I’m not opposed to June finding solace and hope but making it some beautiful forbidden romance, I’m not buying it. Like you said, it’s all well and good in Gilead–but it doesn’t strike me as something that can be sustainable outside it. To borrow from you last time: It’s the Handmaid’s Tale, not The Guardian + the Handmaid’s Tale.

Okay, enough about that pipsqueak. I don’t even like talking about him, tbh. He’s not worth it when there’s so much else going on.

ITA about Luke/June too. I feel like the level of disconnection and trauma that they’ve sustained, especially June, they can try to reconnect but it’s pretty difficult and I think especially with June having a sexual/romantic relationship with Nick pulls that really tight. It’s just two different planets they live on now. I don’t doubt that she still loves Luke, but actually reforming the relationship they previously had seems like an impossible task considering everything both of them have been through. It’s sad, but … sadly true for many people. Relationships can fall apart for far less.

And on the same page about Emily/Sylvia too. She is just soooooo fucking broken, and hopeless, that if they have them just rekindle with no issues, it’ll be bad writing. (I dunno if you see spoilers but there’s one about them.) She needs therapy so much more than a cutesy feelgood storyline.

Back to Lydia: Exactly! There’s a character we know very little about and who is a horrible person, yet the performance by Dowd makes almost everyone go, “TELL ME MORE!” With Nick, it’s the opposite for me. I’m just like, “Please, less of this.”

#Anonymous #rants and raves

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