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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck: The Master of the Mississippi! or “How Much Satisfaction Can There Be?”

Hello everybody. I’m back to the life of scrooge mcduck.. it’s been an eternity hasn’t it and that’s for a simple reason: I had other reviews to do, especially comissions, I kept pushing this back further and further as while I love this series i put my paid work ahead of any other projects, until Kev, i.e. the guy paying for most comissions out and out asked that this be done before I got to the rest of The Ride of the Three Caballeros. It’s also why I finally put a loose schedule in place, to keep projects from slipping so the MANY retrosectives and what not I have going can move along at a steady pace and I can slot in comissions easier, 5 bucks an issue or episode if your curious. So now things are a bit tider, i’ll try to have an installment of scrooge’s storied past up a week from now on, so keep an eye out for that, minus christmas week as I have something else planned Duck Comics wise. So with all that out of the way and any exposition able to be baked into the plot proper, we can FINALLY get back to the life and times of scrooge mcduck

PREVIOUSLY ON THE LIFE AND TIMES OF SCROOGE MCDUCK:

A Young Scrooge got his inspiration, his start and also scared the crap out of some asshole scooby do style. Also his sister Hortense was adorable. SO there’s that. But eventually with some inspriation from what he didn’t realize was a ghost, Scrooge decided to head to america to find his Uncle Pothole. So that’s where we left off, with Scrooge heading to

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Since then as the scrapbook page explains, Scrooge has worked his way up the Missippi to Louieville, Kentucky... which is where Rosa lives, and it is not a concidence it’s set here as a result. But much like how the Marvel staff being in new york in the 60′s lead to that universe having it’s unique and vibrant New York setting that’s lasted to this day, sometimes a creator using where they live as the basis can lead to really great and intresting stuff and here he had a valid reason as Louieville was one of the main hubs on the Mississippi river and thus a massive boomtown.

Not the kind of boom town I meant but I can never say no to boomtown. But yeah it’s not only a bustling hub usually anyway, but things are extra amped up given it’s Derby time. I mean the Kentucky Derby’s no steel ball run but what could be? So naturally the crowds are booming and scroogie is impressed. I mean he’s a 13 year old boy from a poor community in Scotland. This is huge to him. But he has no time to dawdle and asks the closest random gentleman where he could find his Uncle Angus, who was mentioned last time and is the one needed for this. The guy is genuinely helpful and points him to his uncle... but as I only noticed on this read through also uses a knife to swipe his bag by cutting the handle off. It’s part of why I admire this series so much: rosa snuck so many small background gags into the margins you can always find something new reading it or always get something fresh out of it. We also meet Gyro’s grandpa Ratchet.

I mean there’s no might about it. David Byrne is rich and he’s the delightful weirdo we all deserve and the autistic icon I needed.

I have no context for this, I just figured searching David Byrne in Tumblr’s Gif Search would find something delightfully batshit in that way only hec an do and I was right.

So as the tweenager enters the gambling establishment, we find Uncle Pothole, whose playing poker with local asshole and tophat enthusiast Porker Hogg...whose name keeps tripping me up as I write this as he’s not the only pig named porker I know of but is far less memorable than this one

He and Pothole are playing cards, and while Porker can go on for days he can’t go on for eight weeks.. or even two days really and prepares to finish it. He puts up his boat the Dilly Dollar, which Angus takes offence to since Porker sank his. Angus offers up the location of the Dreenan White, a legendary, and real legend at that, riverboat that sank. Since Angus was a Cabin Boy on the boat, he knows where it is. So the final hand is dealt and Angus wins with five aces, mostly because Porker’s ace ejector jammed. When Scrooge questions if this is dishonest, Angus explains their under riverboat captain rules which basically means you can cheat your ass off and it’s not only expected it’s an insult NOT to. So Angus takes Scrooge with him, seeing the boy as a good luck charm and finding out to his shock Scrooge is his nephew, but gladly takes his newly found relation under his wing as he relates to his coming to america to find his fortune, having done the same.

Angus is the first of Scrooge’s many mentors and easily the best part of this chapter. He’s lively, intresting but a contrast to scrooge, someone whose not AFRAID to work but wouldn’t mind an easy victory or giving up the adventure game, as he ends up doing. He’s a lively, clever guy and very charming. I”ll get back to the mentor part of it in a bit, but needless to say in a chapter that i’ll admit, and get more into the why as we go, is not one of life and time’s better chapters, he’s a highlight. So the two get to the Dilly Dollar while Hogg decides to follow to find where the Dreeynan Whyte is. As for why he hasn’t drudged it up Angus simply can’t as the Mighty Missisippi’ s too muddy for that, making another mark twain quoted joke about it. But Scrooge mentions the clarity pills from Ratchet, meaning he has a way to do so, and Angus is now elated and decides to head there to get his fortune, specifically near Monkey’s Elbow kentucky, which while relocated slightly to fit the story, is a very real town and an objectively great name for a town, much like Forty Fort, which is also a very real town name. Hogg overhears and after being literally booted out of the boat, as we’ll see literal asskicking is a McDuck family staple, goes to recruit some hired goons.

Yes hired goons, as every good villian needs some hired goons. And these specific goons.. are a bit.. familiar. And you’ll find out who they are under the cut!

Yup it’s the Secret Origin of the Beagle Boys. And if your wondering “Wait are they immortal too?” well. their not these are their grandpas. Also Hogg’s whole complaint about “wearing them if there yellow” just.. bugs me. They .. they aren’t cowards.. Grandpappy’s just being smart and knows his sons are excessively dumb, as is family tradition. They have no issue with committing crimes, they just don’t want to be arrested by the first Navy boat that finds them. That’s just.. common logic. This is one of Life and Time’s weaker atrributes: Due to being built around barks stories, that means most of his foes here are the random greedy asshats of the week Scrooge faced who had some loophole to his fortune or the grandparents of said assholes. With the exception of hte Beagles, who show up a few times, Glomgold and Soapy Slick who wihle a minor vilian is at the center of one of the best chapters of the story, most of these guys are just forgettable hooligans. Not terrible, and the stories around them are good enough to make it enjoyable but nothing really distinct from what Scrooge normally faced outside of his origin story. Really Barks was simply stronger at STORIES than he was at creating villians: As Magica, The Beagle Boys, Gladstone, Rockerduck and Glomgold all show he wasn’t untalented at it, it’s just more often than not he fell back on some random asshole.

Instead of using a dedicated Rogue’s Gallery of intresting baddies, most writers of most comics just used villians of the week and maybe ONE OR TWO designated hitters. Batman’s Rogue’s gallery wasn’t big enough to form their own country at this point is what i’m saying, it just meant Rosa had to build more vilians of teh week. It dosen’t drag the story down entirely, as the story is about SCROOGE and his growth: sometimes the villians are just a secondary ingrident in a good story. But it’s still something very noticable and one of the weaker parts of the story, it’s just like I said, with the story being more on Scrooge and where a lot of his personality came from, it’s something I really didn’t notice before and really dosen’t bother me now I have. The villians are weak btu the hero is so intresting and grows so much it just dosen’t matter. Their there to provide Scrooge with opportunites to evolve, and the really good ones are saved for the best moments of that and for when a villian IS needed to change scooge as a person. So it all evens out.

So naturally the next day when the McDucks head to get the pills, Hogg’s beat them to it, and when Ratchet refused to cut cards for his stock had them beat Ratchet while they were at it. Though oddly Angus assumes he’s just passed out while Scrooge is the one to recognize someone knocked him out. You’d think a well experienced guy like Angus would know that eh whatever. Point is Hogg is ahead and Angus dosen’t have a crew... though Scrooge and Ratchet naturally volunteer since both have skin in the game: Scrooge wanted a job with Pothole anyway and Ratchet is out a job and out his pills. Angus gladly takes them on.. but accidently sets the Dominos in place for one of Comics!Scrooge’s worst behaviors down the line.

Yeahhh.... Pothole is partially responsible for Scrooge criminally underpaying his staff and family. That gag.. is easily one of , if not my least faviorite part about Rosa’s work. It’s a holdover from Carl Barks work naturally, and one that makes some sense: Rosa set his work shortly after barks, so some time in the 1950s, having barks works take place around when they were written. There isn’t a strict timeline of what happened which year outside of life and times, but Rosa’s works are delieberate period pieces. That’s not a bad thing and if he’s going to base most of his stuff around stuff Barks did, then it’s a good call to make. The issue is the execution: While with Barks it was in part because there was less income inequality, it was also clearly a bit of satire, as Donald was the every man and companies could be unfair, cheap douchebags then as they are now. IT feels more like a joke on Scrooge. Donald still puts up with a lot of stuff, but he’s more liable to complain. In the Rosa stories.. it feels more like he just makes Donald the butt monkey and it dosen’t play well as.. Donald dosen’t want to be there. He has every RIGHT not to want to be there as he’s not being paid a decent wage, not being compensated in any other ways, and could be searching for a boss who actually pays him a living wage. Donald is more the victim in Rosa’s stories but he simply doesn’t realize this, or the fact it’s even worse since Donald is you know RAISING THREE CHILDREN AND SCROOGE KNOWS THIS BUT DOES NOT PITCH IN ONE EXTRA CENT. So already without even adding the decades on, it hasn’t aged well.. but add in the modern day business where it’s a STRUGGLE to get states to raise minimum wages, the job market was hit horribly even BEFORE Corona came and made things worse, and companies horribly abuse their employees to ludcirous extremes such as time crunch in the video game industry, black friday in retail and of course the house of nightmares that is the amazon warehouse, and I say that being a frequent use of amazon.. just because I rely on a company dosen’t mean I have to LIKE doing so in any way shape or form.

What i’m saying is Scrooge’s actions were already bad, making this joke fall flat, but it comes off as downright unfunny after all of that. Even given the times Scrooge was raised in it’s just not a funny gag that “oh ha ha a 70+ year old man ever learned right from wrong when it came to paying his family or workers”. It just paints scrooge in the worst light possible as man who never grew, in at least one aspect, from being a goddamn tweenager and is easily one of the weaker moments of an otherwise epic and well crafted saga, and as i’ve said of Rosa’s exemplary work as a whole.

Anyways the race is on and with the DIlly Dollar gaining on Hogg’s Cotton reiver witch, Hogg has them ram into the boat and flip it over. And no i’m not descrbing a sex act. In a show of competence while Blackheart Beagle’s actions send them close to the falls too he just uses the dilly dollar as a ramp. We also get a really cool flipped over panel as our heroes are waterlogged. A snag boat shows up, I assume it removes snags and dangerous objects and complains about rescuing them. .even though CLEARLY they had some kind of accident. It’s.. never a good look to complain about having to save someone’s life or livelyhood unless that someone is Tucker Carlson. Then it’s ABSOLUTLEY okay to grumble a bit about having to do the right thing.

So after a quick gag we’re introduced to a chekovs gun as a massive tree sprouts out of the river and spooks Scroogey.. and Angus who explains it’s a “sawyer”, something that happens when a dead tree falls in a river.. sinks in.. and then can rise right back up suddenly, violently and boat destroyingly.

So our heroes head on and find the location and Angus dumbly assumes that Hogg, who had a clear start is just lost.. and not you know lurking in the bushes watiting to strike. And strike he does as he once again rams hard and long into the Dilly Dollar, leaving it on a sandy shore. Schwing. Our heroes are landlocked but Hogg, just to earn himself a dare to be stupid award, gives the Beagles their deed, and tells them theirs diving equipment. You can take a wild guess what happenes next.

Angus understandably laughs at his misfortune because it’s funny.. and Hogg responds by dropping him down a well. Before Scrooge can raise a benefit concert to send his love down a well, Angus asks Scrooge to join him instead.. and soon we find out why as the Beagles only find a wrecked town. Turns out thats where Monkey’s Elbow WAS, and they build the new town near it.. with the farm Angus ended up at being where the wreck is now.

Our heroes explore the wreck which honestly, looks really damn impressive, a muddy destroyed riverboat hauntingly beautifully lit by candle light, which Scrooge is holding naturally. I may of had my criticisms for Rosa this chapter, and I will again, but it’s moments like this that reinforce that the man is still one of the best comic book artists i’ve ever seen and knows how to beautifully meld his art with storytelling.

Speaking of which our heroes find the safe with the money. Angus is ritch but Scrooge.. dosen’t get how he can be happy. Scroogie questions “How much satisfaction can there be in having your life’s fortune handed to you? “ It’s easily the best moment of the chapter.. while it’s only two panels before we get to Angus moving things right along... it really speaks to Scrooge’s character. Even as still a naive boy from Glasgow... his whole life has been hard work, effort working your way up. To just.. LUCK into fortune like this baffles him. To be satisfied with that and not seem to have any amibation to use it to go further, to make more of yourself. To be more. While he hasn’t quite got his love for adventure yet, we’ll get there next time, even now there’s a hunger inside him, a desire to not just get rich, that’s all fine and good.. btu to have EARNED IT. To truly feel like he made his way.

And it perfeclty makes sense with his background: Scrooge was raised with nothing, and found out at the start of the story his family had lost everything, a once glorious clan reduced to a poor starving family on the edge of Glasgow. To him it can’t just be about getting Money.. he wants to bring his clan back. To make his family happy and proud. To make sure his father’s faith as the last of their line wasn’t misplaced. He has a lot of expectation on him and that’s bred his character. Angus.. just sorta left at a young age and has been incommuincado. He dosen’t really care about family or legacy.. not that I don’t think he would’ve sent some money back to buy the castle, I just think he was never that concerned with his family’s legacy like Scrooge despite coming from a similar cloth. He wanted the money, but Scrooge cares about the money.. and his family. It’s what anchors him. What keeps him from his worst impulses and keeps him grounded.. for now anyways but that’s a ways off. Point is it really speaks to Scrooge’s character.

But soon the beagles find our heroes, and a fight breaks out.. and naturally even without years of experince yet, Scrooge is still a McDuck and while previously his fighting was based on ingunity.. this time the little runt’s just out for blood and suprises the beagles with a clump of mud and then beating the shit out of them. When one of them tries to respond by wacking him with a piece of wood... he instead breaks a collumn and with the dreenan unable to handle the mud without it... the place starts to collapse. However our heroes don’t make it out unschathed as the Beagles capture them and the gold... for some reason. Seriously Scrooge dosen’t fight back or anything nor does angus they just.. let hte beagles overpower them. WHen Scrooge fully fought the grown ass men just a few mintues ago. What the actual hell.

But we do get another Badass Scrooge Moment, as once hteir on the ship, Scrooge mentions another treasure.. which baffles Angus despite you know.. the boy clearly playing at something. Yeah whlie I do like Angus.. he can be grating in parts and here he just comes off REALLY stupid. But after being tortured by running on a boat, with the beagles mistaking Angus’ genuine confusion for being a bastard man, which naturally their impressed by, Scrooge fessses up.. and you can see exactly’s coming.. the sawyer raises the boat into the air and harpoons it. The beagles try to play off the port authority but scrooge unmaks those “infamous beagle boys”.. and thus names one of his greatest threats. Blackheart vows revenge while our heroes go for a sasparillia..though Scrooge keeps the money.. as he says the memory of that adventure is worth more than anything. As for the Gold, the goverment took it back, but did give them a reward, and Angus only dosen’t give Scrooge a share because he’d have to refloat it, but offers him a job and the dollar in two years at a bargin price. Alls well that ends well. A truly poetic way to end the chapter and prepare scrogoe for the next... TO BE CONTINUED...

FINAL TH...

Yeah.. as you probably know this is NOT the end of the chapter. Instead we go on for a bit more. And a few more pages would’ve been fine, to help bridge the gap.. we see scrooge get the Dollar at a bargin price as his uncle promised, though the deal turns out to be a bit of a lemon as the riverboat industry has dried up. But then.. we get a couple page adventure with the beagle boys, where the beagles try to steal the goverment gold scrooge is transporting, Ratchet helps him escape, and we DO get the utterly badass image of scrooge driving the boat onto land and it exploding and causing a massive flood> While that is awesome.. the pacing just takes a huge hit and it’s easily why this chapter is one of my least faviorite. It probably would’ve been better if they just had a passage of time montage of events at the start of the next chapter and ended on that bit before.. but instead it just goes on a bit and really tries my patience every time as instead of moving on to a bold new adventure.. we just get some filler to help pad things out so Rosa can get it to the right page length. I don’t blame him, sometimes shit happens, but it dosen’t make it any more fun to read. So the Dollar is scrapped and Scrooge is back at the bottom with barely a cent to his name. But he’s resolute: since the river boating days were winding down anyway he’s going west to become a cowboy, and heads off on the Wabash Cannonball as a fireman, i.e. the guy who stokes the engines, to make his way there. So we end our story for now and again.. this would’ve been much better condensed but whatever. We’re finally done.

Final Thougts

As you could probably tell but I saved for here, and I outright even said this is one of my least faviorite chapters and one of the weakest if not the weakest. Part of it is the structure issue I mentioned, but the other part is it just.. isn’t as intresting at least to me personally. The rest of life and times have pretty unique stories that while not removed from genres Scrooge stories have covered, use the story of his rise to make them really pop as we slowly see how the iconic Scrooge we know became the legend and what shaped him that way. Here while we get bits of that, it’s mostly just a standard uncle scrooge story but with him as a kid. It’s not a BAD one, it dosen’t drag the whole of life and times down and it’s servicable but it just feels a bit more standard for Rosa’s work. Still enjoyable, but nothing really spectacular like the next two chapters. On it’s own or as one of the side stories it would’ve been fine but as part of this huge sprawling masterpiece, it’s just a bit underwhelming and just makes me eager to get to the next part every time rather than really suck me in as much as the others. Again the pacing dosen’t help with that and only makes it drag further. It just dosen’t have the weight the other ones do character wise and as such just makes me want to get to part 3 already, which naturally that story within a story dosen’t help with. Overall while not a bad comic, I don’t think any part of life and times is truly bad, it’s still not a GREAT comic like what’s to come or what came just before.

NEXT TIME ON LIFE AND TIMES: Scrooge heads out to the wild wild west.. though instead of a giant mechanical spider he fights some cattle rustlers and meets Teddy Roosevelt HELL. YES.

Until then, happy holidays and later days!

#the life and times of scrooge mcduck #scrooge mcduck #life and times #ratchet gearloose #angus mcduck #the beagle boys #the master of the missippi #don rosa #duck comics

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kaemulti · 4 years

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(this is for the like five people who liked my post about me writing this 😤✊🏾and i have an AO3 account but i don’t want my kpop fan life and my non kpop fan life to clash right now so hopefully i can post the chapters for this fic here. i hope i’m doing this right, i literally got tumblr like a month or two ago so pls be nice 💀💀)

DEADLY DANCE:

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Story Summary: Korra Kuruk is an eighteen year old agent of The Air Temple Agency that has been tasked with bringing a rival company’s top teen agent to justice for her crimes. Korra, code name Water Tribe, must figure out what the true identity of the elusive Metal Bender is and what heinous acts her villainous agency is currently planning. How will Korra handle finding out her target is the one person she least expected and what will she do when that same person needs saving?

Deadly Dance : Chapter One : Little Miss Perfect

Kuvira shut her eyes tightly, taking a deep breath through her nose until it filled every inch of her lungs. She slowly let it out once she couldn’t take in any more oxygen and opened her eyes with new determination, deep breath centering her thoughts and calming any nerves that might be lingering. She could feel the whole room’s eyes on her, whole class practically on the edge of their seats as they watched her prepare for the final part of the combination. Kuvira smirked, an evil, sly smirk that would have easily given away her true personality if any of her peers were actually that observant. Fortunately, they were all far to enthralled with her movement, eyes widening as she extended her arms and raised her head. A beat, and she was off, turning and waltzing like she was floating through the air as the music rose in volume. She could feel the sweat running down the sides if her face, causing her skin to itch, but she couldn’t care less, she was electric right now, practically on fire as she completed all the steps without a hitch. Her face never broke from the innocent and vulnerable look of the character she was playing. Her limbs were long and free, passion practically seeping from every pore as the combination came to a close. She ended the fouetté sequence flawlessly, face refusing to show how increasingly uncomfortable her pointe shoes became pain an afterthought to the captivating performance she was seconds away from nailing. With one last turn, she took her ending position, chest slowly rising and falling as the music faded away to silence.

“Absolutely fantastic as always, Kuvira! Everyone please give her a round of applause.” The teacher said enthusiastically, smile wide as she praised her best student.

Kuvira smiled softly as she bowed for the applause from the class. The praise was cut short as the third period bell had rang, meaning they had spent their five minute time period for changing back into their normal clothes watching Kuvira complete the combination.

“Oh, spirits! That’s the bell, sorry I kept you everyone! Hurry and change, those of you headed to lunch should be fine but I’ll write slips for anyone who is going to a class period! Hurry, hurry! Great work today!” The teacher said as her students scrambled around the room.

Kuvira quickly dropped to the floor, hastily taking off her pointe shoes and shoving them into her dance bag. She jogged to the dressing room and begun to change, ripping off her constricting tights and deciding to exchange her bra for her leotard to save time. She finished pulling her skirt on and adjusted her turtle neck, haphazardly slipping on her sneakers as she rushed out of the door.

Luckily for her, the lunch room was only a couple doors down, unluckily for her however, she didn’t pack a lunch and waiting in the line is known to take half of their lunch period. She pushed passed some students in the hallway, raising the tone of her voice to give half hearted apologies as she did so, not that they knew that of course. When she finally made it to the lunch room she scanned the area for the table with her friends, smiling once she caught sight of them.

Being at this school was her least favorite thing ever so the fact she had actually found a couple people that cared enough to talk to her had been a blessing.

“Nice job today, Kuvira!”

“You totally owned that combo! I wish I could dance like that!”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

The praises weren’t new to her so Kuvira simply offered a smile and a couple thank you’s as she reached the table.

“Well if it isn’t the swan princess herself.” Wing teased as she sat down.

“Haha, very funny, Wing. I told you not to call me that when we’re not in practice, especially because we aren’t even doing that ballet this year.” Kuvira said light heartedly as she pulled out her makeup compact.

“My apologies, Great Uniter.” He said with a bow and smirk. The Avatar ballet had been widely requested by everyone in the dance department and Kuvira was beyond happy when she got picked to play the avatar’s ultimate rival, The Great Uniter.

“How was class?” Baatar asked shyly, barely making eye contact with her as he did so.

“It was fine, my feet are killing me but ballet is my second favorite dance class so I don’t mind.” She replied sweetly as she put on her eyeliner.

“I’ll never understand how you can do that so flawlessly, are you just perfect or something?” Wei asked as he practically inhaled one of his spring rolls.

“I wouldn’t say “perfect”, just skilled.” She lied, adding a sharp tail to the liner. She was playing a character right now and, sadly, acting cocky wasn’t in the script.

“I just don’t get how she got here so fast!” Korra panted, placing her backpack on the floor as she slumped on the table. She had gotten lost in the sea of people all trying to get to lunch on time from dance and had to race to avoid the hall monitor.

“Maybe you’re slower than you thought.” Mako joked, offering her part of his sandwich like he always does. He loved Korra to death but that girl was so frantic she basically forgot her lunch three times a week.

“Must you bully me after I almost got trampled in the hallway, again?! I’m hurting.” She pouted, taking her half of the sandwich from him and eating most of it in one go.

“Maybe if you actually started telling Mrs. Xiao when you have five minutes left of class you’d be here on time.” Asami smirked, not even looking up from her chemistry homework to tease the panting girl.

“I would have but she was too busy watching Kuvira prance around the room.” Korra said with her mouth full, rolling her eyes as she thought of the older dancer flawlessly completing that day’s combination.

“I’ll never understand why she gets under your skin so bad, Kor, she’s literally an angel. Honestly, I don’t even think she’d hurt a fly if she had the chance. Besides, you guys are rivals in the ballet, not real life.” Bolin said, blowing on his noodles to cool them down before sucking them up violently.

“And I don’t see why you don’t, just look at her! Being the center of attention every chance she gets.” Korra pouted, gesturing to the girl doing her makeup in her small hand held mirror a couple tables down.

“Are you gonna leave your hair like that the whole day?” Huan asked Kuvira, face contouring to a grimace.

“Shoot, (spirits, she wishes she could’ve cursed) I didnt even notice, thanks, Huan.” She said, placing the compact down so she could dig through her bag for a brush. She always forgot to take her hair out of her ballet bun and Huan, being the guy who was absolutely incapable of staying out of other people’s fashion choices, never let her forget. Kuvira still remembers how she had to force a smile and act like she didn’t want to bust his jaw that one time he said she looked like a snob when her hair was up.

He was right of course, but it still annoyed her.

Kuvira pulled out the brush she was looking for and set it on the table as she started removing the bobby pins from her hair. She smiled a bit to herself as she got the last one out, her favorite part was next, letting her hair down as she felt everyone watch.

She let the bun unravel as she gracefully shook her head, long, dark waves cascading down her back, almost reaching her butt. Honestly, she needed a trim, she’d have to remind Unalaq to make time in her schedule to get one.

Kuvira picked up the brush and ran it through her hair just enough to make it look neat but not enough to brush out the waves. She could feel several eyes on her, both male and female, as she did so. Kuvira wasn’t oblivious, despite how she acted as her character, she knew she was way above average in looks and she liked the eyes on her, craved them even. She opened her eyes and smiled as she caught Baatar looking at her.

Kuvira liked catching him watching her the most because she knew he’d never have a chance with her, no matter how much he wanted one.

“Looks like the line is shorter now, I’m gonna go grab lunch.” She said sweetly, quickly whipping her head around to eye how many people were still waiting in the line. She was fast enough to identify ten sets, five more than last time, of eyes on her before they frantically looked away as she searched for eye contact. She stood up and flipped her hair, strutting to the lunch line with an innocent smile.

“Ok, but it’s not her fault she’s gorgeous, Korra, that’s hardly a reason to hate her.” Bolin said, back at their table, pulling Korra out of her daze as she watched the older girl strut to the lunch line.

“I never said I hated her, she just...bugs me...” Korra replied, crossing her arms with a huff. Ever since the first day Kuvira had transferred to their school something about her seemed too good to be true, leaving a nasty taste in Korra’s mouth when interacting with the older girl.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on her, Kor.” Asami said, finally looking up from her, now finished, homework to quirk her brow at the pouty girl.

“Wha-no. No! I do not have a crush on little miss perfect, sprits!” Korra said, annoyance clear in her voice as she furrowed her brow at her friend’s accusatory tone.

“Whatever you say, you should really just ask her to the formal in two months.” Mako said before he drank from his water bottle.

“I will not! I don’t even like her like that. Tui and La you guys are impossible!” Korra said, standing up from her seat and heading to the lunch line—because she was hungry! Not so she could stand next to Kuvira, she had more dignity than that thank you very much.

“Hey, Kuvira! How are you today?” Ms. Li, one of the lunch ladies said sweetly.

“I am great, Yuyan, thank you for asking. How about yourself?” Kuvira replied politely. That was one thing Unalaq could never shake from her, her manners for people less fortunate than she was. She had spent a lot of time talking to the school staff when she first got this assignment, she would tell her bosses it’s so she could find her target quicker but that was all a lie. To most, she might be considered to be on the wrong side of history, even if she thought that was nonsense, but that didn’t mean she was soulless. She only wanted the best for these people, why would she be cold if she didn’t have to be?

“Well, I could be better, these kids really don’t know how to say a simple please and thank you. It, um, it gets to you sometimes, you know? But, hey, I guess it could always be worse. Thank you so much for ask—Oh! That reminds me, me and a couple of the other lunch ladies made this for you, since you are such a big help around here.” Ms. Li said, reaching behind her to grab a small chocolate cupcake before handing it to Kuvira.

“Thank you so much, it looks delicious.” Kuvira said, accepting the sweet treat and placing it on her tray with the rest of her food.

“Of course! Anything for our favorite student. Congratulations on getting the part of The Great Uniter by the way, we look forward to seeing you shine!” Ms. Li smiled.

Kuvira smiled brightly as she punched in her lunch number, swiping her school card quickly. She appreciated the praise and she new she deserved it, but too much of it could make her uncomfortable. She said one more thank you to Ms. Li and headed back to her table.

As she was walking however, she almost ran right into someone who was clearly not watching where they were going. If she had been anyone else, her tray would’ve went flying, along with the items on it, and there’d be a huge mess, luckily she wasn’t anyone else. She was Kuvira, member of the Metal clan, the most highly trained spy organization in the world, and she’d be damned if she let her special cupcake get squashed. She easily spun around the person, gracefully hoping one of the railings to catch her airborne tray, every single item she had purchased returning to their places. Well, all except her juice box, which was still airborne, about to land on the ground behind her. She whipped her head back around and made a move to catch it but instead saw her onstage rival, The Avatar, played by Korra Kuruk, hopping the same railing to catch the juice box before it hit the ground, her own lunch items fully intact on her own tray despite the vigorous movement.

“I am so sorry about that! Here, wouldn’t want you to lose this.” Korra said apologetically as she held out the juice box to a wide eyed Kuvira.

As soon as they made eye contact Korra seemed to have picked up on what had actually happened, her own eyes going wide as Kuvira snatched the juice box from her hands.

Before either of them could say anything, the pieces finally falling into place and their initial shock quickly flipping to furry, the fire alarm went off, blaring loudly in everyone’s ears and causing several people, excluding Korra and Kuvira of course, to flinch in their seats. They had been trained better than to get startled by a sudden noise.

“Ok, ok, everyone please grab your phones, and I mean only your phones, and exit the building!” One of the lunch monitors said, ushering kids out of the back entrance so they could head to the field.

Both girls glared at each other, breath heavy in a rage as they did so, before going their separate ways to their respective tables. Kuvira grabbed her phone and followed Baatar out of the lunch room, not bothering to look back at Korra. Nobody at her table asked questions, not having been paying attention to Kuvira when she left the table.

Korra however, returned to a table full of wide eyes and slacked jaws, her friends having watched the whole ordeal after Korra bailed at the mention of a crush.

“That was some ninja shit, Korra! Wh- How- When! When did you even learn how to do that?!” Wu asked, most likely coming off of his hall monitor shift to eat lunch with them moments before the alarm sounded.

“Movies. Come on, we need to get outside.” She said, anger clouding her eyes and lowering her voice. Nobody asked any more questions and, even if they wanted to, Korra was already walking away, one foot out of the door

One thing’s for sure, Korra now had more reason than ever to hate Kuvira.

Kuvira was undoubtably the Metal Clan Protegé that Korra was tasked with arresting for crimes against the environment and the less fortunate.

#lok #tlok #the legend of korra #legend of korra #korra #korra and kuvira #tlok kuvira #kuvira #the great uniter #great uniter #korvira #korvirasami #kuvira week

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aticklishtem · 4 years

Text

Weakness of Doom

((oh boy here I go bringing my bullshit into a new decade again~ this is dedicated to @ticklishjevil bc she is 100% to blame for my descent into ZADR hell and generally inspiring/encouraging the creation of this...thing!! I hope you’re proud of yourself darling 💖

ALSO I’m very sorry if the spacing/formatting is borked tumblr mobile is terrible but I am doing my best to fix as we speak ;w; ))

***

“Give it up, Zim! You’ll never get away with this!”

Dib had lost count of how many times he’d said that by now. Eight years, countless crazy schemes, a couple near total obliterations of the galaxy as they knew it and an almost equal tally of humiliating defeats and triumphant (if temporary) victories for both sides - somehow, it always seemed to come back to the two of them. Dib, Zim, the doomsday device of the day and this seemingly endless chase that remained as frustrating yet exhilarating as it was the day the green kid first rocked up to class. Would it ever end? That almost didn’t seem to matter at this point - this was the life Dib had chosen. As long as Zim was around, he had a purpose, a reason to get up in the morning, a duty to the rest of humankind to keep protecting his planet from impending extraterrestrial invasion...even if most of them remained too dumb to appreciate his efforts.

“You’re too late, Dib-stink!” cried the bug-eyed bane of his existence, waving around some kind of remote with a red button. “Just one press of this button, and every single whiffy signal -“

“...do you mean wi-fi?”

“Zim knows what Zim means!” he barked, an antenna twitching with irritation. “As I was saying, every signal will be scrambled, and without their mind-numbing entertainment, your fellow earthworms will inevitably turn on each other! Leaving the planet defenceless for when I, Zim...figure out how to do whatever it is I need to do to destroy you all!”

“Noooo! That’s…” Dib paused mid-dramatic wail. “Actually a pretty solid plan? I mean, I can see your logic. It’s definitely an improvement on some of your others, like that one with the rubber chickens -“

“Silence!” Zim pointed an accusing claw at him, though Dib could’ve sworn he preened a little at the almost-compliment, puffing up his chest and planting his free hand on his hip. “Of course it is foolproof! And if you imagine for a second that the amazing Zim could ever become so distracted by his own ingeniousness that he could be lured into monologuing until a hypothetical opportunity might arise for someone to take - hey gimme that back!”

Fortunately, some things had changed in all those years; puberty had been at least kind enough to Dib so he could now dangle his superior height - literally and metaphorically - over Zim’s head. “Sorry, what’d you say?” he taunted, holding his prize high out of his enemy’s reach after snatching it from his claws. “I couldn’t hear because of how much taller I am!”

His moment of glory was cut short, however, as Zim launched himself at him with a hiss like a feral cat, sending them both crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and antennae. They were still surprisingly evenly matched; Zim was a lot stronger than his size would suggest, but Dib now had the advantage of longer arms and legs to attempt to hold him off as they wrestled for the device. He might even have been winning - right up until Zim grabbed his side, claws digging into the sensitive spot just below his ribs.

Dib yelped, reflexively slamming his arm down to protect himself; before either could do anything, the remote flew out of his hand and across the room until it disappeared under one of Zim’s experiment tanks. Instead of running after it, Zim took advantage of the distraction to seize Dib’s wrist, pinning him to the floor.

“Ha!” Zim loomed over him, now straddling Dib’s waist so his maniacal grin filled his whole vision. “You flesh-bags really are pitiful, cowering in pain from the slightest touch!”

“That’s not what that - was…” Dib froze, heat rising to his cheeks as his nemesis bore down on him, now painfully aware of his compromising position. Zim couldn’t - did he even know what tickling was? Because this would be a really bad time for him to find out.

“...Eh?” Zim narrowed his eyes, curiosity flickering across his face alongside the usual suspicion and irritation. “What are you smiling about? Why is your grotesquely ginormous head so red?!”

“My head’s not bihihig!” Dib bit down on his lip, but he couldn’t stop a few embarrassing giggles from slipping out when Zim jabbed at his ribs again. He struggled to bat his hand away, but with only one arm free and Zim basically sitting on top of him, he wasn’t having much success. “Quihihit ihit!”

A shiver ran down his spine as he could practically see his doom unfold along with Zim’s smile, sadistic delight sparkling in his eyes, and oh god no Dib thought he was prepared for anything but please not this, anything but this, he’ll never live it down…

“Well, well - you really thought you could conceal such a glaring weakness from me?” he demanded, mercilessly prodding and pinching his way up Dib’s side. “I’d...sort of imagined more writhing in excruciating agony, but this is rather amusing too, watching you squirm like the wretched worm you are!”

“Thihis isn’t fahahahair!” Dib spluttered between peals of laughter; he hadn’t been tickled since he was a little kid, but this was so much worse because it was Zim and he hated giving him the satisfaction but was equally powerless to stop his body from reacting as those probing claws dug right into his horribly exposed armpit. “Zihihihim!”

“Yes, yes, I am Zim!” his foe cackled, releasing Dib’s wrist to attack with both hands, one even scuttling under his shirt - which was so far beyond fair - and scratching at the tender skin almost hard enough to hurt, but his gloves dulled the sensation so it just tickled even more. “If I had known you were this easily incapacitated, I could’ve built a device to take care of you long ago! Now, laugh, pathetic Dib-thing - admit your annihilation, or perish in helpless hysteria at the merciless claws of Zim!”

“Nehehehever - !” Dib had not foiled so many of Zim’s plans to let him win this one by tickling him, of all the cruel and unusual methods. There was only one way to fight back, and he had no idea if it’d even work on an alien, but what else did he have to lose, more of his dignity? Arms flailing as he tried desperately to suck in his stomach before those treacherous claws could get to his bellybutton, he eventually managed to grab a handful of Zim’s side and squeeze it repeatedly.

Zim let out a squawk like a bird having its feathers pulled out, letting go of Dib as he scrabbled to slap his hands away. “D-do not touch Zim with your fihilthy meat-sticks!”

Huh - that sounded like a game-changer, and now it was Dib’s turn to grin like a mad scientist as he kneaded Zim’s sides like his life depended on it - which it might - until he had an armful of squirming Irken trapped in an almost-hug, one arm around Zim’s waist with his PAK pressing against Dib’s chest.

“What’s the matter, does it tickle?” he asked, smirking from ear to ear as he savoured the sweetness of revenge - and possibly the most important discovery of his career as a paranormal investigator. “Is the mighty Invader Zim ticklish?”

“Lies! Cease! Ihihi’m gonna destrohohoy yooooou…!”

It wasn’t like he’d never heard Zim laugh before - only like every day since they were at skool - but this was different; less controlled and mocking, more free and almost joyful, even if it was a joy forced upon him as he writhed, kicked and cackled under Dib’s skittering fingers, exploring the surprisingly soft and smooth skin under his shirt. It wasn’t exactly an autopsy, but the thought that he might be the first to hear - the first to make Zim almost squeal when he wiggled his fingers under his arms - that was more deeply, weirdly, sadistically satisfying than anything he’d imagined. “Wow, I think you’re worse than I am! So are all Irkens this ticklish, or is it just you?”

“Zihim is telling you nohothihihihing!” Zim’s laughter seemed to jump an octave when Dib felt around his back; the skin around his PAK was slightly raised where it was embedded, which was interesting, mainly for the way he bucked and squirmed frantically as Dib traced it with his fingers. “GIR! Where are you?! Do something to make this stohohop!”

“Yes, master!”

Dib looked up just in time to see Zim’s robot assistant propelling towards him at alarming speed, his eyes blazing red. Before he could move to shield himself, however, GIR came to an abrupt stop, eyes flickering back to cyan and his metallic mouth stretching into its familiar hyperactive smile. “Ooooh! Tickle fight! I wanna plaaaay!”

“Now, GIR! Fire the - wait, no, what are you doing?! Put that back!” Both Zim’s and Dib’s eyes widened - in horror and intrigue respectively - as GIR plonked himself down on one of Zim’s legs, picked up the other and pulled his boot off. Dib had never actually seen his feet before, he realised; he had three toes, clawed like his fingers but a little shorter. Judging by how he scrunched them up when GIR prodded them, they were also pretty sensitive.

“This li’l piggy went to Foodcourtia,” GIR chirped, wiggling a toe; Zim made a strangled noise of protest and attempted to pull away, but Dib was still holding onto him. “This li’l piggy went home - aw, we outta piggies! And thiiis li’l piggy…”

“GIR - nooo!” Zim begged, and Dib could actually feel him tremble in his arms as his toes curled in anticipation of what was to come. “Don’t do this! You’re supposed to attack the intruder, not -“

“...went weeweeweeweeeeeeeee…!” GIR hugged Zim’s foot and scribbled furiously all over it, his tiny metal hands a blur as his master shrieked with laughter, helpless to escape his ticklish doom.

“How’s it feel, Zim, betrayed by your own minion?” Dib snickered along with him as it occurred to him he should probably be recording or taking photos of possibly the greatest moment of his life to date, but holding Zim captive and laughing helplessly was way too satisfying, tickling under his arms while GIR happily went to town on his foot. “Maybe I’ll just keep you like this - you’re not much of a threat to the Earth when you’re just a cute little giggly alien puddle…”

“Wh-whahahahahaaaaa?!”

The sheer incredulous outrage in Zim’s voice tore through the air, and Dib couldn’t help but wince, recoiling as the ear-splitting screech assaulted his eardrums. As his grip loosened, Zim wriggled free and kicked GIR off of him, scrambling back to his feet, and the chaos was replaced by an unusual and equally uncomfortable silence. (Apart from GIR eating popcorn out of his head as he watched them, and that was the most normal thing about this situation.)

“I - uh...“

“He thinks you cuuuute!” GIR giggled, grabbing Zim’s cheeks and squishing them together comically.

“No I don’t!” Dib felt his face flush under the spotlight of both GIR’s carefree smile and Zim’s laser-beam glare, the protest coming out just a little too quickly. “I was teasing you - it’s just a thing people say when they…”

He trailed off, because man, things had gotten weird, even by their standards. But this was still Zim, and he was still a jerk and evil and the total opposite of cute, even a little breathless with his clothes all rumpled and one foot still bare, antennae lowered and quivering and what looked suspiciously like an olive-coloured blush staining his cheeks. That warm feeling was just Dib enjoying the sight of his enemy humiliated in defeat, like anyone would. Right? That made sense.

“Give me my boot, GIR.”

“Go long!”

Zim caught the offending item without looking, but instead of putting it back on he hurled it at Dib, who dodged just before it smacked him in the face, bouncing off his shoulder instead.

“Ow - hey, that’s sharp!”

“Good! Suffer! That’s what you get for trying to taint the mighty name of Zim with your disgusting lies like…” He screwed up his face as if he could barely bring himself to spit out the word, making dramatic finger-quotes, “cute!”

“Okay, geez! It’s not like I meant it…” Dib rubbed his shoulder, shifting awkwardly - he wished they’d stop repeating the word like that. But even this momentary weirdness couldn’t change the fact that he’d just uncovered a significant weakness in his nemesis, even if he inconveniently shared it. He’d be an idiot not to exploit this for all it was worth, a smug grin tugging at his lips again as he picked up Zim’s boot. “But thanks for this. I bet I can get all kinds of useful evidence from a genuine article of alien clothing…”

“You…!” Zim’s eyes almost bugged out of his head as he let out an indignant splutter - only to break into a dangerously familiar smile before activating his PAK legs, towering over Dib with a renewed gleam of vengeance in his eye. “Enjoy your last few seconds of freedom, Dib-worm - we shall soon settle who is cute!”

“I’d like to see you - wait, what?!”

Dib didn’t have time to figure out what Zim meant by that as he darted for an escape route, still clutching Zim’s boot - but when he was quickly seized and hoisted into the air by a pair of metal spider legs, he was pretty sure things were only about to get a whole lot weirder.

But this was the life he’d chosen - and would he really want it any other way?

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spacehologramcollection · 5 years

Text

Request; Kombat Krew finding their S/O on their side of the bed after a mission;

Some more fluff, some smut later tonight! Mentions of Kano, but its once more, a shitpost on him. Another long post, so more under the cut! GIFS do not belong to me.

Sub-Zero (Kuai Liang);

· When he gets in, he tries not to wake you, he feels guilty about waking you up anyway. It’s like 3 in the morning, he’s already two hours late back, he just wants to get into bed and sleep. It’s way past his bedtime. The man usually sleeps at like 11. Sharp.

· When he sees you on his side of the bed, its his because it’s closest to the window and door, and furthest from the fire. Which is lit to keep you warm. He kind of smiles.

· You’re curled up, the blankets wrapped firmly around you, softly sleeping. You’re on his side because it sort of smells of him and you miss him.

· He kind of just observes for a little while, slowly walking over, to stroke your hair whilst you sleep. Before planting a soft kiss on your forehead. You’re so precious.

· He’s that tired that he’s not overly bothered which side he sleeps on, just as long as he’s in bed and he’s got you next to him.

· Its moments like these, which make him wish he didn’t have to leave as often; but if he didn’t leave, then he’d miss moments like this. What a fucking paradox.

· He’ll crawl into bed, wrapping an arm around your waist and spooning you. He prefers to sleep with you on his chest, but this will have to do, he doesn’t want to wake you after all.

Kabal;

· He tries. He really tries to come in as silent as the fucking night. But it never works out. He’ll knock everything over in the hallway, accidentally turn on one too many lights and make so much noise trying to pour a glass of fucking water.

· He’ll end up walking into the bedroom, trying to pull of his boots and get ready to crash. Only to see you’re laying on his side of the bed, which is the one with the bedside table full of junk. Post-Burn its go his lotion

· He’ll see you, happily sleeping away, wearing one of his t-shirts, a dozy smile on your face. Your eyes fluttering around as you dream.

· He smiles to himself, before quickly trying to take a picture, its fucking dark and he doesn’t want to use the flash. So that failed miserably.

· Instead he’ll quickly undress and slide in next to you, slowly trying to roll you over, like the blanket burrito you’ve become. He has to sleep on his side, it’s got his charger, glasses and tablet.

· He tries to roll you over so delicately, but it always ends up with you nearly falling off the bed. If you’re a heavy sleeper, that’s great, if you’re a light sleeper then you probably woke up before he got in the apartment. The noise he makes, is unbelievable.

· He ends up sliding in on his side, he has to sleep on his side, before rearranging you. He’ll end up spooning you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

· Post-Burn- if he’s not feeling so confident, he’ll stroke some hair from your face, before going to sleep on the sofa. He usually ends up sleeping on it anyway. Why wake you up?

· If his confidence has returned, he’ll slide in next to you, he doesn’t care much about the side anymore. He just wants to steal some of your warmth and sleep. He’s fucking tired.

Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi);

· He thrives at night, so he seldom comes to bed with you, and you always manage to roll over onto his side of the bed. It’s just a normal occurrence.

· So when he comes back from a mission, to see you sleeping so soundly on his side of the bed, he is more than prepared.

· He’ll scoff and mutter to himself, about what is the point of having designated sides of the bed.

· He’s not overly bothered, but he fucking is, that’s his side of the bed. He always sleeps there. He opts for it, because if anyone was to break in/ disturb you both; the first thing they’d be met with is his angry fucking grumpy face.

· Two things about Scorpion; he doesn’t like to be woke up early, and he sure as hell doesn’t want you put in danger.

· He’s prepared for this though, he’s practised it numerous times. So, you’re in good hands.

· He’ll very carefully nudge you over, before tucking you back in. He doesn’t want to wake you, so he will take is time, no matter how tired he is.

· He’ll also stop on occasion when you make a noise, admiring how adorable you are, so pure and angelic when you’re asleep.

· Once he gets into bed, he’s gotta brush his hair and re-tie it back up first, he’ll climb into bed. Lay on his back and await you to scoot over and lay on his chest. He’s smiling to himself as you do it.

· He loves the little things in life. And he will appreciate it as much as possible; he knows all too well; how uncertain life can be and how it can change within the blink of an eye.

Raiden;

· He doesn’t really have a side of the bed. He will sleep on either side. The concept of having a separate side of the bed to sleep on; is a rather strange concept to him, one he cannot wrap his head around.

· So, when he comes back and finds you fast asleep on the side he usually has to sleep on, he just kind of stares for a moment. Observing as you sleep so soundly.

· He hates to leave you, but he knows he has to, he’s a god and has to babysit the whole of Earthrealm essentially.

· He wonders if you’re sleeping on the side you designated for him, if you miss him and wish he was there? Or if it’s to do with how you always sleep curled up next to him.

· Either way, he does not want to disturb you. He knows how Mortals, and even gods, can get cranky and moody when they’ve not had sleep.

· He’ll debate moving you, but he knows there is still a chance of waking you, something he doesn’t wish to do.

· So he instead opts to go onto ‘your side’ a bed is a bed after all. He’ll slip under the covers, prop himself up on his elbow and watch as you slowly dream. Making some adorable noises.

· Mortals fascinate him. You fascinate him more, how one Mortal could hold his heart and soul in their hands. He loves you.

· He’ll eventually fall asleep, timing his breathing with yours, being in complete synch with you.

Johnny Cage;

· Oh, not a fucking again. Is his reaction at first.

· His side of the bed is special to him, its sacred ground for him to rest his head. He’s got the pillows just right, its close enough to both the window and the radiator, as well as being close to the air con for summer. Perfect.

· And you, you’ve migrated over to his side. He’ll smile, all of his fake anger is playful after all. You do look pretty sweet, laid there, waiting for him to return from filming. Bless you.

· He thinks he’s the luckiest man in the world, money couldn’t buy any of this, even if you do sleep on his side.

· He’ll try and roll you over, he tries not to wake you up, but he accidentally will.

· He’ll apologise profusely, he didn’t mean to wake you, but he’ll remind you that you are on his side.

· But If you missed him THAT much, he can forgive you, I mean, he’d miss himself if he could. In fact, he sometimes does.

· And because he woke you up, accidentally, he will tell you to go back to sleep, putting the cover back on you.

· Sliding in on your side, after asking you to pass his BB cream, his night cream, his anti-wrinkle cream. All of his skin care stuff. You will debate just moving over, but his side is so much softer for some reason.

· You actually wonder if he hired someone to break the pillows in and mould the mattress to him.

· He’ll pull you onto his chest, after his long drawn out night ritual, that involves him tweeting goodnight. He’ll stroke your hair and say sorry once more. He knows you’ll always sleep on his side, but when you turn into this much of a cuddle bug after you wake, he really cannot complain.

Erron Black;

· He is tired. Boy has this Cowboy had his last square dance of the night. Kano ran him ragged on that mission, Kabal was just a pure shit-lord, not shutting the fuck up. He’s tired and wants to sleep.

· He’ll try and be quiet, but getting into bed, is his main focus. He’ll have stripped off and shed his clothing in the hallway. Hell, no he isn’t bothered about the mess. He’ll clean it in the morning.

· All he can think of is bed, you and that hot water bottle you always sleep with. It’s all he could think about. The thought drowned out Kano being disgusting and Kabal constantly been a walking meme.

· He’ll throw open the door, cringing as it bounces against the wall. He’ll close his eyes, wincing at the thought of you waking up. He’ll mutter a swear before saying ‘Sorry Darlin’. That’s when he sees you.

· Curled up on his usual side of the bed. The one where he keeps his whisky tumblr for a late-night stipple

· He’ll smile softly and shake his head. This is a regular occurrence for when he’s away. It means you’ve been missing him.

· He encourages you to do this. He’ll even spray his cologne on the pillowcase before he leaves, in the hopes you’ll migrate over to his side. Just so he can come home and find you like this.

· Face of an angel, with the occasional snore/snort. You’re looking so peaceful. It’s just an excuse for him to get into bed and spoon you.

· He’ll quickly get into bed, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you in close and falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

· Totally worth the shit-storm of a day he’s had.

Kano;

· If he comes home, he’d probably use an air horn to wake you up. He’s a shit person. A fucking shit person.

· Would you even want to sleep on his side of the bed? It probably smells like something curled up and died and now its rotten.

· Would you even want to sleep in his bed?! The sheets probably haven’t been changed since last Christmas.

· Don’t fucking do it. Get yourself a Kabal or Erron. They’ll appreciate you sleeping on their side.

1K notes · View notes

aosficnet2 · 5 years

Text

Thank you for your participation and enthusiasm for the Agents of SHIELD Smut Week!

The AoS Smut Week Collection has 39 new stories (for 13 unique relationships!) in addition to gorgeous mood boards and Tumblr posts!

Meta

Philinda + Intimacy by @queen-of-love-and-beauty (Philinda)

Fanart/Moodboards

Set It Up AU by @accio-the-force (Fitzsimmons)

The Breakfast Nook by @eclecticmuses (Fitzsimmons)

In the Field by @soulofevil (Quakerider)

Death, Conquest, and War by @creationsbyscarlet (Legacy Quakerider)

Stress Relief by @creationsbyscarlet (Quakerider)

I pick you. And you by @soulofevil (Legacy Quakerider)

Soulmate by @soulofevil (Quakerider)

Legacyrider Moodboard and Drabble by @soulofevil (Legacyrider)

Fanfiction

(under the cut) Please read the warnings and tags on AO3.

G Rated Fics

we made these memories for ourselves by @loved-the-stars-too-fondly (May/Daisy, 3.6K) Halley-verse. Halley is moving into her own home before starting residency, and Daisy wants to give her a gift. Unfortunately, it brings up some not-so-great memories.

This Magic Moment by @acerobbiereyes (Jemma/Robbie, 559 words) Jemma has her family, and that makes all the difference

making memories and messes by @agentmmayy (Phil/May & Daisy, 4K) Melinda and Daisy try to make their favorite dessert no matter how messy it may be.

Vindictive by @acerobbiereyes (Robbie/Daisy, 482K) Daisy and Robbie are rival trainers, most of the time.

T Rated Fics

there’s a space in my heart just for you by @agentmmayy (May/Hunter, 4.1K) Melinda May has a mission and 25,000 credits. Lance Hunter is in need of both of those things.

the sea and the city by @bobbimorseisbisexual (Fitz/Simmons, 6.6K) Maggie Fitzsimmons is seventeen years old and starting her first year at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s SciTech Academy. Her parents aren’t prepared for what happens next.

Duck, Duck, Goose by TomatoBookworm (Fitz/Simmons, Hunter/Bobbi, Lincoln/Daisy, 4.4K) Everyone knows a soulmate goose is a wise, and not benevolent, guide to finding true love. Whenever the goose shows up, just let it push you towards your soulmate, kiss and profess your feelings, and you will have your happily ever after.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder by @florchis (May/Daisy, 667 words) Undressing in front of someone new never stops being uncomfortable. Daisy lets May know she has no reasons to be embarrassed.

i know it's gonna get me in trouble (just as long as you know you got me) by @loved-the-stars-too-fondly (May/Daisy, 1.5K) AU meeting prompt: "There’s a person who won’t stop bugging me will you pretend to be my partner so that they’ll f-ck off?"

Kisses In The Snow by @ready-to-kick-some-ass (Fitz/Hunter, 1.1K) Hunter really misses their bed.

when the clock strikes zero by @apathbacktoyou (Kasius/Sinara, 401 words) some people are born with countdowns on their wrists. no one knows what they mean. kasius is sure his is counting the seconds until he will meet his soulmate.

A Taste of Scotland by @agentofship (Fitz/Simmons, 3.7K) Jemma is spending her vacations in Edinburgh with her friend Daisy before going back for a new year at Oxford University. Being a smart, sophisticated woman, Jemma prides herself in her taste for the beautiful museums and natural sights Edinburgh has to offer, and if she'd been spending quite a lot of time on High Street watching a certain bagpiper play his instrument, it's only, of course, because he's a wonderful musician.

all at once everything looks different (now that i see you) by @loved-the-stars-too-fondly (May/Daisy, 1.3K) Soulmate AU: the one where you only see color once you meet your soulmate (so you don’t know them until you see them), and it goes away when they die.

sunkissed by @loved-the-stars-too-fondly (Bobbi/Daisy/Jemma, 3.6K, WIP) Bobbi Morse spends her summers away from college on a beach in the middle of nowhere, because her parents think internships are overrated and family time is more important. She’d be more inclined to agree if her parents actually spent time with her, but that’s neither here nor there. Bobbi spends all of her time on the beach, and begins to notice two girls hanging around who she’s never seen before. At a bonfire night she learns their names are Jemma and Daisy – and they both like girls. Summer romance blooms between the three, and all Bobbi can think through the sunkissed days and moonlit nights is that she never wants it to end.

M rated Fics

Seven Days of Daisy and May by @carlyraeswift (May/Daisy, 3.2K) Daisy has a huge crush on Melinda May and it's starting to get awkward. Or is it the start of something beautiful?

You’re On My To-Do List by @loved-the-stars-too-fondly (May/Daisy, 385 words) May just got back from a mission. Skye's been waiting for a chance to surprise her.

clinging to a past that doesn’t let me choose by @agentmmayy (Coulson & Daisy, 1K) Lincoln wasn't the only one Daisy lost.

over and done with by @rathxritter (Fitz/Simmons, 4.1K) Leopold James Fitz and Jemma Anne Simmons are known by the public as FitzSimmons. Their relationship is unpindownable and undeniably strong: they're sort of best friends, sort of soulmates, sort of lovers. And now Jemma is back for good.

until you believe it, or maybe remember it by @loved-the-stars-too-fondly (May/Daisy, 1.8K) Daisy takes May on a tour of the life they have outside the Framework, a life May doesn't remember

i’m fine, maybe in time by @everythinghappens-love (Fitz/Daisy/Jemma, 767 words) prompt: cuddling + skimmons

When We Meet Again by @ready-to-kick-some-ass (Fitz/Simmons, 4.3K) 1945. War is over. While people are celebrating on the street, Jemma feels nothing but exhaustion and sadness. Since she stopped receiving letters of her boyfriend Fitz, she's sure he's dead. Still, when there's a train announced which is about to bring surviving soldiers home, she goes there too. At the railway station, a surprise is waiting for her.

longing to share the lot by @meanderings0ul (Lincoln/Daisy, 866 words) The lid came off.

keep coming back for more by @meanderings0ul (May/Andrew, 1.1K) It turned into their secret though, that she'd forgotten and he remembered, that she'd ask without expecting the answer and he'd tease her.

Wake Up by @quakeitbreakit (Robbie/Daisy, 150 words) Robbie Reyes discovers it isn't a nightmare Daisy Johnson is having when he wakes up to her moans.

E rated Fics

Tie Me Up by @agentofship (Fitz/Simmons, 7.1K) After a promising start of day rudely interrupted by a phone call from their boss, Jemma cannot seem to get what she wants from her boyfriend all day. Maybe she just has to tie him up to make sure he doesn't go anywhere.

stress relief by @apathbacktoyou (Kasius/Sinara, Sinara/OC(f), Kasius/Sinara/OC(f), 12.8K) Sinara's lovers have an unfortunate proclivity to disappear from the Lighthouse. Replacing them is becoming tedious and then she notices the one thing they all have in common: Kasius' signature on the paperwork.

Purple by @meanderings0ul (Phil/May, 1.4K) The first time he’d knelt down to her looking like this, her knees almost gave out.

work hard, play harder by @agentmmayy (May/Hunter, 5.5K) There's nothing quite like fucking on company time, but Melinda and Hunter accidentally take it to the extreme when there's a medical mix-up.

now I’m covered in colors, pulled apart at the seams by @agentmmayy (May/Hunter, 6.8K) When Melinda May's ex-fling hires her to produce art for a fund-raising auction, sparks- and paint splatters- fly between her and one of the models. Lance Hunter is talkative, a little brazen, and has a body Melinda enjoys painting. When he invites her back to the dressing rooms after the event, Melinda hesitates, but then again, she's never been a firm believer of "do not touch the art."

Horny Nerds by @agentofship (Fitz/Simmons, 5.9K) Jemma goes to a sci-fi convention in the hope of getting a picture and autograph of her favorite Doctor but things don't go exactly as planned. Instead, she meets another fan and ends up having a much better time than she could have hoped for.

Explosive by @libbyweasley (Fitz/Simmons, 3.5K) Things sizzle between Fitz and Jemma after they accidentally blow up an algae bio-fuel hydrogen cell.

An Actress Walks Into A Bar by @sunalsolove (Bobbi/Hunter, 3.2K) AU. Hunter’s working at Downtown Alley pouring drinks when A-List star Bobbi Morse makes an appearance. He’s seen her there before but hasn’t done anything more than pour her a margarita. Bobbi has had a terrible day and when the cute bartender offers to listen, she finds it’s not just his ear she wants.

since I came here (felt the joy and the fear) by @abrusfanfics (Fitz/Simmons, 4.4K) Leopold Fitz is one of the oldest souls in existence. Jemma Simmons is a brand new soul. Somehow, against all odds, Fitz's soul is matched to hers. He gets to love, honor, and protect Jemma Simmons until they die, and do it all again when they're reborn. He just has to work up the courage to actually kiss her.

lovin' it up when i'm goin' down by @agentmmayy (Phil/May, 1.9K) Worked up from dancing, Melinda and Phil steal a few moments to themselves in the elevator.

Sparks by @sunalsolove (Fitz/Simmons, 4.4K) AU. Jemma is a top researcher in the field of Soulmate biology but needs a better way to collect the sparks that fly around Soulmates. She could also use a lot more samples. Fitz might be able to help with both.

only a call away by @agentmmayy (Phil/May, 3.3K) Lonely and bored, Melinda video calls Phil. It turns into a call she wasn't- or maybe was- expecting.

Solo Ride by @soulofevil (Robbie/Daisy, 684 words) Robbie enjoys the parting view of Quake and puts it to use on his drive home.

can someone send a runner (for the feeling that I lost today) by @abrusfanfics (Fitz/Simmons, 2.3K) Jemma jumps off a plane, an act which understandably causes her to rethink her life choices.

(Not) Alone Time by @sunalsolove (Fitz/Simmons, 3K) S1 AU. Jemma needs some alone time. Fitz needs to discuss his latest idea with her.

If I missed you, it was an unintentional error on my part ( @sunalsolove), please let me know ASAP, badges will be going out shortly.

Thank you to everyone for making this a wonderful week!

#aossmutweek #master post #2019 fandom events

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norcumii · 5 years

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Reblogged from the prior tumblr. This was posted on 07/30/2017, though now without a cut For Reasons.

So there’s someone who frequents my feed, and we have…opposing political views. Normally we sort of politely ignore each others’ political posts, and I appreciate that courtesy, but for whatever reason, today’s added commentary bugged me enough that I’m responding. If nothing else, it will help during inevitable verbal clashes with some of the extremists on the fringes of my family, and dangit, I need to step up and educate myself first. I am deliberately not naming the person because there’s no need to be a dick, and I certainly don’t want to seem like I’m dogpiling. They made a comment disagreeing with Drumph’s latest support of police brutality, but added:

Trump is not a fascist. no one actually knows what a fascist is. However, if you want real Fascism just look to WW2.

Ok, let’s do just that. I’m sure there are plenty of posts about this matter out there, but I’ll take a stab at it. (folks on mobile, there’s a cut here, because this gets long)

Now, there is a bit of a point to folks not agreeing about the exact definition of fascism. Wikipedia has like, 19 of them, so we’ll take the easy route and go to John T. Flynn’s definition from 1944 (heeey, WW2, as requested!) – it’s also one of the shorter ones, so I’m happy to be a bit lazy about matters.

Based on Mussolini’s Italy, Flynn defines fascism as:

Anti-capitalist, but with capitalist features A move towards a system of wage slavery, defined as: a situation where a person’s livelihood depends on wages or a salary, especially when the dependence is total and immediate. It is a pejorative term used to draw an analogy between slavery and wage labor by focusing on similarities between owning and renting a person. The term wage slavery has been used to criticize exploitation of labour and social stratification, with the former seen primarily as unequal bargaining power between labor and capital (particularly when workers are paid comparatively low wages, e.g. in sweatshops), and the latter as a lack of workers’ self-management, fulfilling job choices, and leisure in an economy.

Economic demand management… “Demand management in its most effective form has a broad definition well beyond just developing a “forecast” based on history supplemented by “market” or customer intelligence, and often left to the supply chain organization to interpret.” – Drumph did indeed sell his campaign as getting a businessman in charge, didn’t he.

…through budget deficits As a resident of a state that is looking at a budget crisis, I’m not sure I really need to spell this one out. Look at Illinois. Look at how the other branches of government can’t remove their heads from their asses long enough to come to terms about anything. We’ve been spending money hand over fist for years, the potential safety nets keep disappearing (repeal of Glass–Steagall Act, anyone?), and the problem with “pay now or pay later” is that later eventually arrives. Given Drumph’s history of bankrupting businesses and selling them off for spare parts, this one isn’t much of a stretch.

Direct economic planning, reconciled with partial economic autonomy through corporatism Staffing many of the important Cabinet positions with business types – many of whom have expressed interest in dismantling the regulations that are now under their direct control – isn’t suspicious at all. Trying to loosen the regulations on monopolies, or giving heinous tax breaks for corporations and the wealthiest individuals can’t possibly be a part of this.

Militarism and imperialism; ‘Make America Great Again.’ Get rid of all those foreigners. We’re gonna build a wall and we will defend our borders with so many powerful weapons, they’ll be the best defenses you’ve ever seen.

Suspension of rule of law. Having his own protection squad even during the campaign isn’t raising any flags. Rabble rousing and inciting riots at other Presidential candidates’ rallies isn’t something to worry about. Or, you know, encouraging cops to rough up prisoners because who cares about that due process thing, or innocent until proven guilty. We’re not there yet, but given the flagrant attitude he’s had towards law – particularly how he’s claimed the Judicial branch should have no power over him – I have no faith in this.

“But wait!” you might say, “that’s just Wikipedia!”

‘Kay. I went attic diving, and found a Funk & Wagnall’s Encyclopedia from 1952 (I can provide photos as proof, or verification, or the longer forms of these articles). From their entry on Fascism:

As a form of social organization, fascism is characterized by the following: (1) extreme centralization of the government which, theoretically, has absolute or unlimited powers, and which is identified in law, as well as in fact, with a single party and its leader…; (2) regimentation of the entire population (except for an elite ruling class) ; rigid control of all economic, political, social, intellectual, cultural, and recreational activities ; use of the educational system ad of all media of mass communication to inculcate in the population principles of extreme nationalism and racial hatred, and to extol war and imperialist designs on weak countries ; and toleration of organized religion only to the degree that it is subservient to fascist policies ; (3) retention of private-property rights but elimination of free enterprise though the centralization of industry and finance ; subordination of the production of goods for civilian consumption to the manufacture of armaments and munitions ; the development of industry and agriculture in the direction of national self-sufficiency as preparation for war ; (4) incorporation of the economic organization of society in the apparatus of government, in the form of the “corporative state” or “corporate state”, as in Italy, Portugal, and other countries, and of the “new order” as in Germany and (5) abolition of civil rights, and of free trade unions, collective bargaining, and labor and famers’ co-operatives; outlawing of all other organizations not sponsored by the state and the fascist party ; systemic use of terrorism in the interest of the security of the state ; and subjection of the entire population to espionage.

More importantly, it mentions:

As a national movement aspiring to power within a country, fascism originates and grows rapidly in periods of deep social unrest. It takes the form of a mass political party with affiliated semimilitary organizations. The membership of the fascist movement is socially heterogeneous, consisting for the most part of such discontented elements as shop-keepers, farmers, professional persons, and civil servants, all of whose means of livelihood have been destroyed by years of economic depression and turbulent labor and political struggles, and who hope for economic security and social advancement through a fascist reorganization of society. The fascist movement is financed by powerful business interests. It is intrinsically opposed to democracy and labor. According to the exigencies of the situation, a fascist party issues propaganda representing itself as a revolutionary, and even at times an anticapitalist movement, or as the leader in a crusade of civilization against communism. It preaches hatred of other nations and races. In the struggle for power, a fascist party participates in elections but relies chiefly on force and on violent tactics: it suppresses meetings held by its critics and opponents, smashes demonstrations, and raids and destroys the headquarters and printing plants of opponent organizations.

Yeah, that sounds totally unfamiliar right about now. Particularly about the Koch brothers financing the Tea Party, which paved the way for this recent fiasco of an election. Or perhaps that bit describing coal miners who now are looking at not getting health benefits, or Joe (the plumber) Average who’s just trying to look out for their job.

As an added bonus, my attic diving also turned up a 1926 set of The Source Book encyclopedias, which I had to flip through (photos also available). It’s not WW2, but hopefully that’s ok. There’s an entry on the Fascisti that exists, but nothing on fascism itself, so I took the book’s suggestion and looked up Benito Mussolini. I’ll spare the biography, but the entry ends on an interesting note:

Bolshevism no longer threatened the country, but Mussolini visualized a new peril in the body of the state itself – a sick state, corrupt, impotent, which needed to be transformed and revitalized with the young blood of the nation. On Oct. 24, 1922, when he declared war on the government he ha the country so organized behind him that victory was certain. He said: “Either they give us the government or else we fall upon Rome and take it.” They fell upon Rome and took it bloodlessly.

Drumph might be a work in progress, but yes, I do feel comfortable calling him a fascist.

I’m also fucking terrified for the future of this country.

#murica #politics #fascism #the orange who must not be named

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a-simple-gaywitch · 5 years

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All the odd ones! - Wine

I got this, be prepared for a ton of answers about my life

(Under the cut)

1. describe yourself.

Already Answered

3. do you have siblings?

1 little sister, we don’t get along at all

5. favorite color.

Already Answered

7. favorite flower. (you can name as many as you want cause flowers are awesome)

Carnations, Forget-Me-Nots, Baby’s-Breath

9. favorite childhood memory.

My grandmother and I listening to my grandfather babble nonsense in his sleep

11. if you could describe your perfect room, what would it be?

Already Answered

13. what was the last photo you took of?

Me and my baby cousin

15. do you hang toilet paper over or under?

Over

17. do you believe everything happens for a reason?

No. I think some things just happen to happen and who they happen to is just up to fate

19. favorite mythical creature, why?

Dragons. Because they’re awesome

21. where did you grow up, what was it like?

A small, poor Pennsylvania town. It was not great. The school district is literally the second poorest in the state, we can’t even afford paper. My family barely had enough to scrape by half the time and there was always news of a new shooter in town and a new person arrested for dealing heavy drugs in broad daylight

23. what was your last google search?

cs lewis books

25. would you relocate for love?

Already Answered

27. favorite book.

Six Of Crows, no contest

29. have you ever kept a journal, do you now?

I did when they made us in elementary school. I don’t now

31. do you believe that everything happens for a reason?

Same as 17

33. favorite alcoholic beverage.

I’m under 21 and live in America, so none

35. do you believe in ghosts?

100% Yes

37. should you split the dinner bill?

Depends on who you’re with and what the occasion is

39. what keeps you up at night?

Insomnia, fan theories about movies and tv shows, less than pleasant thoughts, my damn cat

41. do you believe in god?

no, next question

43. what’s something that offends you?

Willfully ignorant and bigoted people

45. if you were on a 10 hour flight and could sit and talk to any person the entire time, who would it be?

Probably my best friend, we always find new things to talk about

47. what do you do on your free time?

write, tumblr, netflix, work out

49. have you ever broken someone’s heart?

no clue, maybe

51. when are you happiest?

when i’m with friends in NYC

53. what is one possession you own you wouldn’t want to live without?

my grandfather’s letterman jacket or my great-grandfather’s wwii trunk

55. what is your favorite season, why?

winter, i prefer the cold

57. are you a clean or messy person?

i’m a bit of both. when i have my life together, i’m a clean person, but when i’m not in the best state, i’m a messy person

59. what was your upcoming like?

not great. that’s all i’m gonna say about that

61. what is the first thing you’d do if you won the lottery?

buy a car and save the rest for college

63. favorite outdoor activity.

swimming

65. would you rather go camping in the woods or stay at a beach resort?

beach resort. less bugs

67. favorite type of candy?

sour gummy worms or chocolate

69. what movie quotes do you use of a regular bases?

I don’t really use any quotes on a regular basis. sometimes if a situation calls for it, i’ll quote something, but i generally don’t quote movies regularly

71. what’s the craziest conversation you have ever eves dropped on?

Girl on cellphone: "You just need to tell her you’re banging her man. Because she’ll find out on her own and probably kill you and then I’ll have to talk to the police and that’s so much work.”

73. what’s the worst hairstyle you’ve had?

I had a Dora-The-Explorer haircut when I was 7 because I took a pair of safety scissors to my hair and that was the only way they could save it

75. what’s the coolest animal you’ve seen in the wild?

My grandma’s house was being stalked by this whole bear family a few years ago, that was kind of cool

77. do you usually follow your heart or your head?

Head. I overthink things too much

79. what’s the weirdest crush you have ever had?

Already Answered

81. do you ever feel alone?

Yep, next question

83. are you usually early or late?

Early

85. what do you wish you knew more about?

how screenwriters adapt books to the screen, because sometimes it’s executed really well, other times you have the percy jackson movies

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yumotohakone · 6 years

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Haunted House Hang-up (Voltron-SS) (Klance fic)

My @voltron-ss gift for Nicole!! (@nsart ) I hope you like it!! This monster of a fic is like,,,,,12k words somehow wtf

Read it on Ao3 here!! (please read it on Ao3; my italics don’t paste over right onto tumblr–the fic is the same but I just feel like it’s missing something w/o the emphasis,,,and it’s much, much too long to go through to put them all back)

Summary: Keith runs a paranormal YouTube channel with his friend Pidge. Pidge is friends with Hunk, who is friends with Lance, who is very very haunted. And also very, very pretty.

Warnings: Some violence, blood/injury, mentions of death, horror elements

“Shit, shit, shit!” Keith hissed under his breath. He cringed when he heard the equipment clang noisily from where it had been thrown haphazardly back into the bag. He yanked open the drivers’ side door and barely had time to chuck his luggage into the back before Pidge was clambering into the seat next to him and screaming.

“Drive! Drive!” Pidge gasped, glasses skewed on their face.

“I thought you said the place was abandoned?” Keith yelled, foot slamming down on the pedal. The strain on the old, beaten-up truck was not lost on him, and he gave a silent apology to the well-loved car.

“It was!” Pidge said back, their face bright red. “They hadn’t been back there for at least a decade! How was I supposed to know they would take their cute little anniversary vacation at their shitty, rotting cabin?”

Keith groaned, heart still drumming with adrenaline.

“Go check the equipment,” Keith said, exhausted. “It got a little rough back there.”

“Keith, I swear to god if you broke anything I–”

“It wouldn’t be my fault! Did you want me to get shot by an 80 year old lesbian couple??”

“I mean.”

“Pidge!”

“C’mon dude! It would be so funny!” Pidge climbed into the backseat to check the equipment.

“We didn’t get any data from that, so unless we can find a new hotspot in like, two days, we’re not gonna have anything for the channel.”

Keith and Pidge ran a YouTube channel together called Paranormal_InfoDump, where they went to supernatural hotspots for evidence on paranormal activity. That, or they posted unedited, hour-long rants of them infodumping about their favorite cryptids. The channel was moderately popular, kinda, at least among the supernatural niches of the internet.

Their current attempt at a video was in an old cabin that was rumored to be haunted by some triplets from the 18th century. The legend went that they were killed in a freak horseriding accident and their father, who they were riding with, just hid their bodies instead of telling anyone the truth. So they were pissed at him. And now they were ghosts.

“We can just edit a blooper reel, or like, make it a vlog.”

“But I hate vlogs,” Keith grimaced, “Whatever. We can go back to the cabin later. What’s the next spot on our list?”

The car pulled up into the parking lot of IHOP, where the duo waltzed in for some pancakes. As usual, Matt glared at them when he had to serve them because they always went to IHOP for the explicit purpose of bugging him.

“Y’all gonna get into sugar comas.” Matt grumbled, ruffling Pidge’s hair when he approached. He didn’t even have to take their orders–they always got the same thing. Double-blueberry pancakes for Keith, and french toast for Pidge. Neither of them got sides, because sides were for posers. So were drinks, but that was where they disagreed, so Pidge would just order Sprite and Keith just ate his meals without drinking anything which Pidge makes fun of him for sometimes. It was all good though because Keith would just make fun of them back for the way their feet couldn’t touch the ground in the chair even though they were almost 17. But whenever he did, they would always clap back with–

“Yeah, well you’re 19 and you still don’t know how to swim even though you grew up in Florida.”

And then Keith would reply–

“Is it really ‘growing up’ in Florida when I was only there from ages 13 to 18?”

And then the topic would change.

“Okay, so the next place we should hit up should definitely be something big,” Pidge said through a bite of french toast, “Like, real big. Like…St. Zarkon’s Estate big…”

“Pidge…” Keith drawled, “You know we can’t. That place is too much for us. You remember what Allura said, right?”

“Yeah, but we both know you’re dying to take up the challenge–no pun intended.”

Keith sighed, knowing Pidge was right. St. Zarkon’s was the oldest building in town–a huge mansion that dated back centuries and belonged to an insanely rich family that got their fortune from some seriously shady means. There were rumors that the family performed fucked up medical experiments in the basement, and that they were teamed up with the orphanage/hospital/asylum/whatever place the source said, because the story changed all the time. Either way, that place was notorious. And also illegal to get into because of “safety regulations”–but Keith and Pidge knew it was really closed off because of the rumors.

Anyways–Allura was a psychic. They met her through Craigslist and went to her before every haunt they hit up for a consultation. That day, she told them she sensed more figures in the home than what was predicted, and that they should be aware of the color purple. Of course, they ended up ignoring the purple rocking chair on the porch that wasn’t there the week before when they scoped out the place.

When they asked her about St. Zarkon’s a few months back, she just gave them a look and asked them if they really wanted to go to a place that looked like it was gonna fall over with the next breeze. She said she foresaw the feeling of distress and injury.

Then Pidge asked:

“But do we die?”

To which Allura sighed and responded:

“No.”

They had their minds set, but then Allura told them if she heard of them going to St. Zarkon’s she would start charging them for consultations again.

“Pidge, why are you bringing this up now?” Keith said, cutting up his pancakes into little triangles.

“Ok, so I have this friend–”

“I thought me and Keith were your only friends?” Matt interrupted, refilling Pidge’s Sprite.

“You’re my brother so you don’t count,” Pidge said, “but anyways I have another friend that I met in Robotics club. He’s super cool. But the reason I bring him up is because he has another friend who is apparently extremely sensitive to ghosts. Like. They’re just somehow magnetically attracted to this other friend, and they have been since forever.”

“What does that mean for us, exactly?” Keith said, trying to catch on.

“We bring a ghost magnet to a ghost hotspot–guaranteed ghosts! Ergo: guaranteed results and proof!” Pidge chugged some Sprite and burped obnoxiously after, which made Matt cringe from where he was on the other side of the restaurant. “According to Hunk, his friend is so surrounded by ghosts that weird supernatural stuff is just kinda normal for ‘em .”

“I see what you mean,” Keith said, thinking, “How do we know it’s true though? We’ve gotten lots of bullshit stories before.”

“I haven’t asked yet, but we could probably get Hunk’s friend up for some testing. We could sneak it in with our research system, yanno?”

Keith and Pidge, before any haunt, always did extensive research to make sure they were prepared. Keith thought it over. Since they were already interested in the Estate, they didn’t have to do so much research on it, and could probably dedicate some time to running a few tests.

“Plus we could test out some new gear me and Hunk were designing,” Pidge started flapping their hands at the wrists excitedly. Pidge had designed and built all the gear themselves. “It’s so cool having another brain to talk things out with in the building process! Hunk’s an engineering major and also a cook so his mind works differently than mine and he has some really cool ideas!! He’s so fun to work with.”

“That sounds awesome.” Keith finished his pancakes. “Do you know a lot about the friend? Do you think they’d say yes?”

“I mean, I’ve already got Hunk pretty involved, so I think he’d be able to talk his friend into it. We’ve got another Robotics Club meeting in two days so I can spring the question then.”

The two finished up their food, but not before demanding Matt bring them kiddie menus and crayons, which he was lawfully obligated to do seeing as he was on the clock.

It wasn’t until four days later that Keith was woken up from his blissful sleep by the obnoxious ringtone Pidge set for themselves.

“Pidge what the fuck. It’s 7AM no human should be awake at this hour. Why are you calling me and why can’t this wait until when I get up at 11?”

…Is what Keith meant to say when he picked up the phone, but between his general grogginess and the pillow shoved over his face it came out more like: “Hnnurrrghhhh,” which, thankfully, Pidge understood.

“Get your gay ass up, Keith and get over to the cafe in twenty. Hunk and his friend will meet us there.”

Keith groaned, willing himself to sit up. He knew if he wasn’t over there Pidge would end up breaking in through his broken bathroom window again. Keith threw on some sweatpants and a muscle-tee and lazily tugged his hair into a ponytail. It was too early to put effort into his appearance, and besides, it’s not like Keith really cared about what Pidge and their new nerd friends would think about his outfit. His clothes had nothing to do with anything.

Keith skipped breakfast, knowing he could just get something at the cafe. “The cafe” was just the simple name most people gave to the one cafe in the area that didn’t have a green mermaid plastered on the front. It was mostly due to that idyllic “cafe atmosphere”. Somehow, even in the middle of spring, that place always made you feel like it was the dead of fall. Not just fall, but autumn. It was nice. Keith liked it there.

The walk to the cafe was a short one. The old metal bell gave a cheerful ring when Keith opened the door. The sunlight streamed in through the faux stained-glass windows and bathed the whole cafe in a soft, orangey-yellow light. He saw Pidge sitting at their usual booth in the corner of the cafe, looking absolutely miniscule from where they sat across from a broad-shouldered, barrel-chested man also at the table. Keith gave him an appreciative once-over. Not Keith’s usual type, but the man had thick, well-built arms and a friendly smile that was very easy on the eyes.

Keith walked up to the counter, intending to order something small for breakfast. He gave a glance to the person in front of him and immediately had to pull a double-take. The man in front of him was… pretty. Keith had never used that word to describe a man, and he didn’t think he would be, well, interested in anyone fitting the description.

The man was tall, with long, long legs emphasized by strappy white wedges and high-waisted shorts. He wore a flowy crop-top, in a pastel-pink color that went well with his rich, coppery skin. When he reached over to grab his drink, Keith could see the clean white polish on the his nails, and the many bracelets and rings he wore. What really struck Keith’s attention, though, was the crown of colorful flowers that sat primly on the man’s brown hair. The flowers didn’t have a plastic sheen, and were too smooth looking to be cloth, so Keith could only assume they were real.

Keith watched in utter horror as the man turned heel and approached the familiar corner booth to sit next to the handsome, heavy-set man that was animatedly talking with Pidge. Keith stared at the back of the man’s head, swallowing thickly, wondering how in the fuck he was gonna do this. He approached the counter and picked up a pastry, contemplating just running away before Pidge saw him. But, of course, like some kind of telepathy, Pidge chose that very moment to see Keith, and excitedly waved over at him.

Keith was intimately aware of his careless attire and suddenly regretted not dressing a little nicer. It was only when he slid into the booth next to Pidge that he was able to get a look at the man’s face.

“–this is Hunk, my friend from Robotics Club,” Pidge introduced. Keith sheepishly pulled his eyes away from the pretty, flower-covered man across from him so he could meet Hunk’s eyes.

“Nice to meet you,” Keith said, a little stiffly, but then Hunk smiled reassuringly at him, and Keith felt the tension ease from his shoulders.

“It’s great to finally meet you, Keith!” Hunk shook Keith’s hand. “Pidge has told me a lot about you!”

“Oh, and this is Lance, our resident ghost magnet!” Pidge gestured to the remaining stranger. Keith finally got a good look at the man–Lance. Along with the flowers, Lance was covered in jewelry, the soft light of the cafe bouncing off of the gemstones to dapple Lance’s skin in the reflected colors. Lance’s face tensed a little at Pidge’s words, but before Keith could analyze his expression, Lance’s face smoothed back out.

“What can I say, I’m irresistible even beyond the grave.” His voice was positively saturated in cocky confidence. “It’s more of a curse–having to fend off admirers from both planes of existence.”

Keith rolled his eyes. Lance fiddled with one of his earrings.

“Will you help us?” Keith asked, bluntly. Lance glanced at him, a thin eyebrow raised in question. “We’re paranormal investigators, and we think having you would be useful–if you’re even telling the truth about being ghost-sensitive.”

Lance bristled.

“You’re lucky Hunk talked you two up so much or I wouldn’t even be here.” Lance leaned back, arms crossed, easing into an air of cool. “You don’t even know how many wannabe ghostbusters I get trying to coax me into their bad mojo.”

“And you don’t know how many bullshit ghost stories we get from people saying they can talk to the dead or summon spirits. I can tell you I’m only here because of Pidge, because personally I hate bringing in outsiders.”

“Wow, okay, what a big hotshot we have over here.” It was Lance’s turn to roll his eyes. “You don’t even know the beginning of the bullshit I have to deal with–”

Lance was cut off by Hunk interjecting.

“Guys!” He put a hand onto Lance’s shoulder. Lance looked at his friend, then pouted and slumped back in his seat. “Lance, dude, take a breath, chill out a little bit. We already went over what they want, remember? You agreed to come.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance mumbled. He leaned on Hunk, his cheek nuzzling into his friend’s bicep. “Sorry, buddy. I’m just gonna go to the bathroom for a sec; be right back.”

Keith, still seething from Lance’s attitude, berated himself when he caught his eyes tracking Lance’s backside when he walked away.

Pidge tugged his sleeve to pull him down and whisper at him.

“Are you okay, dude? You usually don’t get worked up like that.”

“I’m fine. There’s just something about the way he talked that got under my skin.” The way Lance kept undermining Keith and Pidge and their work made Keith see red. He poured a lot into the channel, and so did Pidge; hearing someone disrespect it was like a personal attack, somehow.

“Sorry about that, guys,” Hunk said apologetically, “Some days can be a little more rough on him than others. Last night, all the hot water in the house ran out suspiciously early, and the bulb in the bathroom shattered while he was in there too. He had to spend all night in a top-to-bottom cleanse to expel the thing.”

“There was a ghost in his house?” Pidge said, eyes widening.

“Oh god, yes there was,” Lance groaned dramatically as he slid back into his seat. “I have no idea how it got in. I think this one necklace I got from Etsy was a fucking dud so the little bastard hitched a ride. It was awful.”

“You had a ghost in your house?” Pidge repeated.

“Yeah, uh,” Lance blinked, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable. “I try to prevent it as much as I can. When a spirit attaches to a home it’s so hard to get rid of, so you gotta exorcise those fuckers ASAP.”

“You’ve done that before?? You just expel ghosts often?” Pidge looked almost in awe.

“Yup,” Lance popped the ‘p’. “Hunk did tell you supernatural stuff happens to me all the time, right?”

“Yeah, but I just thought he meant, like, you go to haunted places and the ghosts come out to see you–not that they follow you around!” Pidge suddenly pulled back, “That must suck if you’re not looking for them, dude.”

“THANK YOU!” Lance exclaimed, “ Finally someone understands. Thank you, Pidgeon; I think we’ll be very good friends.”

“So will you help us?” Keith asked again.

“Sure–” Keith and Pidge sighed in relief before Lance continued, “–but only if Pidge builds me a drone that looks like the Millenium Falcon. Hunk refuses to do it for me.”

“Are you kidding? I would fucking love to do that. I can even add in a claw that you can use to pick up stuff, or like a candy dispenser.” Pidge looked giddy. Lance’s eyes lit up and he leaned over to grasp both of Pidge’s hands in his own.

“Pidge, I would die for you.”

The rest of the cafe meet was Pidge and Lance geeking out over the features to put on Lance’s drone, with Hunk occasionally butting in to keep things reasonable. Keith bit back some snarky remarks, but every once in a while one would slip out, and Lance would immediately snap back with another in reply before he was distracted away from a full argument.

It was…kinda nice, Keith would suppose. Hunk was very kind but would not hesitate to say something to passive aggressively put the others in their place. Lance got along incredibly with Pidge, but for some reason, whenever he would say a word to Keith it would end with the two of them bickering. After the tension of the first argument broke, though, none of the bickering in question would be openly malicious. In fact, it was kind of fun. It was like they would just try to one-up each other with every smart-ass one liner.

They eventually decided on a day to meet up so they could do some testing with Lance’s abilities, then went their separate ways.

The meet was at Pidge’s, because they had the most equipment set up and ready to go. They did a number of tests on Lance and gathered data in their chicken scratch handwriting, leaving the research element to Keith, mostly. Lance was pretty compliant, and often cracked jokes while having his body poked and prodded with strange tools.

Eventually Pidge decided to take Lance “on the field”, and take him to haunted spots to observe him there. That was how Lance and Keith ended up sitting on bean bags in the library while Pidge and Hunk fiddled with computers and machinery in the background. Keith was trying to get Lance to tell him more about the paranormal aspect of his life, but Lance got increasingly defensive about it and kept trying to dodge the topic.

It was kind of the cycle they got into whenever they were left to their own devices–Keith would prod Lance about ghosts, Lance would change the topic, they would bicker for a little bit before moving the conversation elsewhere. It wasn’t a bad thing by any means, they did learn a lot about each other. For example, both of them liked watching true crime documentaries on Netflix, or the fact that neither of them could ever sit still to read a book in silence.

“I either had someone explain it to me, or I got my siblings to read it aloud,” Lance said, reminiscing. “Obviously, I could read it myself just fine, I just got lost super easily, yanno? I’d end up thinking of some question or imagining a scene and next thing I know I’ve been on the same page for ten minutes.”

“Yeah, I always got antsy. Sometimes the words would get mixed up and it would hurt my head, and then if I wanted to keep going I would have to point at each individual word and read them separately but then I wouldn’t absorb anything that was going on. It’s gotten better as I’ve gotten older, though.”

“Yeah, same. Nowadays I just use audio books.”

Sometimes they would lapse into slightly awkward silences, especially when the topic of childhood came about. Keith was about to say something when Lance blurted out:

“Uh, do you know you have a ghost following you?”

“What? Wait, wait, what the fuck?”

Lance looked incredibly sheepish, hands flying up to backtrack.

“I, uh–it’s just that….shit this is weird to explain.” Lance bit at his thumbnail, which was a pale purple that day. “It’s like…there’s this…energy? Around you? I don’t know something about it feels really…protective? In like a loving way I guess…have you ever had a pet?”

Keith blinked. Lance usually didn’t talk about the ghosts he sensed. He said it didn’t really do anything but make him really sad, so he tried to avoid looking into the ghosts’ personalities or whatever. The one time they got him to mention something was when he had sat on a swingset at the park and almost burst into tears. The ghost was of a second-grader.

“Um…when I was a kid I had a cat?” Keith replied. He hadn’t thought about Red in years. She was a fluffy orange tabby with a grouchy personality who always sat on Keith’s head whenever he laid down. He loved her a lot and was devastated when she passed.

“Yeah, yeah…that’s kind of the feel I get,” Lance’s eyes went a little distant, as if he were lost in thought. “She’s…just kind of watching you…in a good way…”

Lance blinked.

“Uh, I haven’t mentioned this before but, um…if you could like, give me something of hers then the…connection, I guess, would be stronger.” Lance nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “If you want.”

“Are you some sort of medium?” Keith asked, carefully.

“Not really? I mean I can’t summon just any spirit I want or anything, but if something is there then I can like sense it. It gets stronger whenever I’m in a spiritually charged area or I have something physical to hold. So, like a medium, just they have to come to me.”

Keith dashed thoughts of contacting his parents. Lance just said he couldn’t force any spirit to show themselves, and besides, that would be an incredibly awkward situation to force Lance into.

“Have you ever talked to a ghost?”

“Yeah, plenty.” Lance bit at his lip. “It was a lot easier when I was a kid, before I started trying to block them out.”

“Block them out?”

That pulled a chuckle out of Lance, and Keith was glad to have dashed some of that somber look in Lance’s eyes.

“Not all ghosts are good ones, Keithy–” Keith grimaced at the nickname. “What do you think all these pretty gems and flowers are for? I live for the aesthetic but not enough to bathe in it.”

Lance gestured to the flower behind his ear, and the gemstones on his amulets and necklaces. “All of this is for protection–the gems and the flowers. I even make my own incense and essential oils. It’s actually how I met Hunk.”

Hunk’s head popped up at the mention of his name.

“Are you telling him our meet-cute?” Hunk’s voice got Pidge’s attention too, for a short while. Lance laughed again, the former serious mood completely gone.

“Yeah! You see, Hunk’s family runs half of a flower shop.” Lance waited for the inevitable questioning ‘half?’ from Keith and Pidge before continuing. “So years and years ago, the Garretts and the Balmerans had two rival flower shops that were trapped in a bitter blood feud–Romeo and Juliet style. Then one day, completely unlike Romeo and Juliet, the antique shop owner from across the street played the flower shop owners in poker. In an embarrassing, alcohol-fueled night, the two owners had accidentally made an agreement to combine their shops if they lost to the antique shop owner. And they lost miserably, because every Garrett and Every Balmeran I have ever met have zero poker-face skill.

“So now Hunk’s family is half the owner of the best flower shop in town–well, the only one in town–and I met my best buddy because I’d just been buying all of my plants like a moron and Hunk finally decided to save me and show me how to make my own garden after watching me spend–how much money was it again, buddy?”

“Oh god, it was horrible. He spent, like, at least 500$ in about two weeks. I couldn’t let him do that to himself, even if he was great for business.”

The story got a laugh out of Keith. When he glanced over at Lance again, though, he found the other just kind of staring at him with a look so soft it made Keith’s stomach twist pleasantly, and he had to bite his lip to keep from grinning like a loon. The action just made Lance’s mouth twist into a smile, and in that short, quiet moment, they were both just smiling at each other, and Keith hoped that Lance was feeling the same way, even if Keith himself couldn’t explain what that feeling was.

After running through all of their equipment at least twice–which took about another week and a half–Pidge had finally decided they were ready for St. Zarkon’s. As tradition, before they could go, they would visit Allura.

“So…we’re going to meet your psychic?” Hunk asked. Despite the fact that his best friend was a ghost magnet, he was somehow skeptical of a psychic.

“Yeah, she’s amazing. We always go to her to make sure we won’t, like, die or something.” Pidge shrugged. “She’s really accurate, but not like, telling your whole future word by word stuff. It’s mostly cryptic warnings and feelings.”

“And you’re sure she’s legit and not using confirmation bias to make you think her vague statements are predictions?”

“No, dude, she’s our friend. Plus she stopped charging us ages ago.” Pidge replied.

They entered Allura’s establishment, and immediately Lance gave a long, and particularly pleased sounding breathy noise that had Keith’s face burning bright red. Hunk turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Buddy, are you okay?”

“Hunk I have never been better. This place is so clean. There’s a lot of good feelings around here and I can’t sense a single ghost. It’s so good. Do you think she sells any of these gems?”

“I think she does, actually. We’d have to ask her though. C’mon, she should be expecting us–”

Pidge was interrupted as the clack of heeled footsteps approached them. Allura looked stunning as usual, her voluminous silvery hair framing her dark skin and shimmery clothing to give off an otherworldly feel. She’d barely looked up to greet them when Lance had gasped loudly in surprise.

“Allura??”

At the sound of Lance’s voice, Allura’s face snapped up to meet his, a similar look of surprise on her own face.

“Lance? What are you doing here?”

“Allura!! You’re psychic??” Lance approached her, going to grab her hands familiarly. Keith’s brow furrowed.

“Wait…you guys know each other?” Pidge asked.

“Yeah! We’re in the same dance class! Allura is my partner!” Lance looked positively ecstatic. He turned back to Allura, still holding her hands with a bright smile on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me you were psychic, Lu? This shop feels so clear I might just camp out here forever!”

Keith found himself glaring at their clasped hands and the affectionate nickname. Over the time that they had gotten to know each other, Lance had been pretty open about his affections for attractive people of all sorts. Keith may have been gay, but he knew Allura was absolutely gorgeous–he had eyes. He should’ve figured Lance would be all over her, and considering they had a history–

But it’s not like Keith cared or anything. He had no reason to care about who Lance did or did not have romantic inclinations for. Keith knew he found Lance attractive but he wasn’t dumb enough to get a crush on him or anything, obviously. He liked Lance as a friend. Strictly as a friend. A friend with a heart-stopping laugh and endless blue eyes and the lightest smattering of freckles on his shoulders and–

“Well, Lance, I can’t just go around proclaiming I’m a psychic to everyone.” Allura’s voice pulled Keith out of his stupor. She had let go of his hands, thankfully.

“Yeah but didn’t you ever, like, feel anything weird about me?” Lance asked.

“…I wasn’t sure if you were aware of the happenings around you, Lance. Most people aren’t.”

“Allura, when I was five my best friend was a doctor with a noose around his neck that only I could see. It was only when I was 13 I found out he died in the house in the 1400s. I sat on a swingset last week and saw a second-grader with the upper half of their face gone. My ‘Lita basically force fed me holy water when she met me for the first time.” Lance looked at her. “I know.”

“I didn’t realize it was that serious, Lance, I’m sorry.” Allura placed a comforting hand on Lance’s shoulder. “My visions are very weak when I’m away from my crystals.”

“It’s okay, Lu,” Lance grinned at her, “It’s not your fault. Anyways though, I’m over here with the nerd squad for some ghost hunting.”

“Oh! Lovely! Well, you all should come along with me to the back and I’ll start the consultation.”

They all piled into the darkened room behind the curtains. Allura had once told them the over-the-top decorations were more for the sake of the customers than anything she actually needed. The one prop in the room that was truly necessary was the murky, indigo-colored crystal ball in the center of a table.

“So, where are you all intending on going this time?” Allura asked. When her fingers touched the stand of the crystal ball, however, she jolted, giving them all a concerned and level look. Pidge didn’t seem to notice when they responded.

“We’re finally tackling St. Zarkon’s Estate,” Pidge said confidently, “Not only do we have Lance, but me and Hunk have been working on a ton of new tech for it! We’re totally ready.”

Allura’s face was pinched.

“Alright…I can already tell I can’t stop you this time…” She took a heavy sigh and gently touched her fingertips to the smooth surface of her crystal ball. She breathed deeply, eyes shut. After a few moments, she opened her eyes with a shuddering sigh, her hands shaking.

“This…this is not going to be easy,” She mumbled, “There will be distress, there will be injury, but there will also be catharsis, and there will be the beginning of something new. Marmora will guide you.”

The room went quiet. Allura shook her head slightly.

“I don’t like this…” her voice was quiet, “But my visions are telling me this will turn out right in the end, somehow.” She gave them all a meaningful look. “I trust you all.”

“Thanks, Allura.” Keith gave her a small smile.

“What did you mean by ‘Marmora will guide us’? Who’s Marmora?” Hunk asked.

“I am…I am not sure. My visions are usually strong feelings or images of a moment, but never detailed.”

Keith frowned. The name sounded familiar, somehow.

“Welp! Time to get this show on the road! The sooner we get there the sooner I can get home to kick Hunk’s ass in MarioKart!” Lance proclaimed suddenly, breaking the soft atmosphere. Keith turned to look at Lance but the other was already marching out the door.

“I mean…he’s not wrong,” Pidge shrugged, “St. Zarkon’s is, like, an hour’s drive away. We should probably get going before it gets too dark.”

A wave of murmured agreement washed over the rest of the group. They bid their goodbyes to Allura and met Lance back at the car.

“Lance what the hell are you doing?” Keith asked, deadpan. Lance had been halfway inside the car, leaning over the driver’s side. Keith tried to force his eyes anywhere else but Lance’s…lower half was all that could be seen of him. It didn’t help that the sheer cardigan he wore had been shucked up and to the side, leaving the long line of Lance’s black leggings on full display.

“I’m just setting up some tunes for the road!” Lance laughed, suddenly. “Hunk left the AUX cord where I could find it–so I call dibs!”

Pidge groaned. Keith knew how much they loved having control of the music.

The group piled into the car, Hunk driving, Pidge in shotgun (they called it), and Lance and Keith in the backseat. As the car started up, Lance’s grin was downright devious as he held up his phone. All of a sudden, a poppy, unfamiliar music riff began, Hunk whispered a quiet “oh god” and then Lance was screaming lyrics along with the vaguely nostalgic vocals of an early 2000s boyband.

Lance’s playlist was…eclectic at best, painful at worst, jumping from cheesy musical numbers to badly autotuned pop garbage with Lance singing throughout all of them. Every song was a performance and there was no end in fucking sight. Keith had never longed for a single moment of quietmore in his entire life.

Pidge complained every two songs and Hunk tried gently to console them. Whenever they tried to turn the music down Lance would screech at them until they stopped. Keith had seen Lance act over-the-top but this just seemed downright obnoxious. Even Keith tried to say something, but Lance just ignored him completely and kept singing.

It’s not like Lance couldn’t sing, but after belting out a few songs he got lazy and whiny sounding.

Eventually, they stopped at a gas station to refill, and Lance stepped out of the car to use the bathroom, leaving the rest of them in blissful silence.

“Oh thank god.” Pidge dragged their hands down their face. They reached for the radio, but Hunk stopped them. Pidge looked at Hunk with the most abject confusion and betrayal. Hunk tried to smile at them reassuringly, but Keith could see the conflict on Hunk’s face. Hunk glanced out the window behind him before turning to Keith and Pidge.

“Look, I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you guys this, but uh,” Hunk awkwardly rubbed his neck, looking severely uncomfortable, “…this is Lance’s happy playlist. He kind of only plays it when he’s upset or nervous. He hasn’t said anything to me, but I think this whole…St. Zarkon’s ghost thing is really getting to him. I know it’s painful…believe me, I know–”

“Yo, Hunk, it’s okay dude,” Pidge put a hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “You should’ve just told us that sooner. I mean, damn, I hadn’t even noticed Lance acting that weird or anything, but….I probably should’ve. At least asked him or something.” Pidge looked sheepish. “I forget, sometimes, that not everyone is as excited over ghosts like me and Keith are.”

Keith bit his lip. Knowing that Lance was nervous kind of put things into perspective. Keith probably should’ve seen it coming, as he was the one left to talk to Lance the most while the other two worked on the tech. He knew Lance wore an overabundance of protective charms; he knew Lance cleansed his house with herbs almost religiously; he knew Lance had a history with spirits getting physical with him or his stuff. What Lance didn’t tell him, Keith had guessed. Keith suddenly felt a little guilty for not thinking of Lance more.

“We’re…kind of shitty friends…” Keith said suddenly.

“What? Oh god, no–jesus–don’t think that,” Hunk sounded distressed suddenly. “Lance tries to hide these things. It’s not your fault he does it well. Hell, I’ve known him for years and even I didn’t see it. I guess he just convinced himself to do this.” Hunk paused for a second. “I know he might have a weird way of showing it sometimes, but Lance really likes you two. And I think he even likes how into ghosts you are.”

“Really?” Keith and Pidge said at the same time.

“Yeah, I think it’s just because of how much you believe in all of it.” Hunk suddenly had a look of guilt. “He, uh, doesn’t have a good history of people believing him. Even I didn’t believe him at first. I was there for him and I supported him but I think I just told myself he was making it up somehow. I only started believing him for real after, uh…let’s just say something really bad happened.”

They could tell that Hunk didn’t want to say anything more, and just left it at that.Though Keith would bet money that Pidge was dying to ask more. Before they could, though, Lance came back, with a blue slushie and a plastic gas station bag.

“Heyo, guess who brought snacks?” Lance held up the bag. “We’ve got powdered donuts for Hunk, Nutty Bars for Pidge, and some Sour Patch Kids for Keith.”

“Thanks buddy,” Hunk said pleasantly, biting into a donut as he started the car.

“Anything for you, big guy.” Lance’s grin was lopsided and showed off the dimple on his cheek. Not that there was any reason for Keith to notice that. Keith almost didn’t hear the aggressive sound of plastic wrap being shredded to pieces.

“Woah, Pidge you eat faster than my little niece on a sugar rush.” Lance raised an eyebrow at Pidge, stifling his giggles. In the short while it had taken Lance to hand out the food and talk to Hunk, Pidge was already one Nutty Bar down out of two, and was enthusiastically working on the next. Pidge didn’t respond aside from a weird growling/hissing sound they made whenever someone tried to interrupt their snacking. Keith was used to it.

Keith looked down at his own snack, fingers running along the package. He was kind of surprised Lance remembered. Looking back, he probably only ate them once or twice in Lance’s presence, and he certainly couldn’t remember saying they were his favorite–except for once in a video.

…but Lance probably just assumed Keith liked them from those few times he saw Keith eating them. There was no way he sat through twenty minutes of Keith ranting about the Jersey Devil just to get to the part where Keith said Sour Patch Kids were his favorite candy. Probably.

Keith glanced over at Lance, only to lock eyes with him. Lance jumped and looked away suddenly, stuffing his slushie straw into his mouth. If he didn’t know any better, Keith would say Lance’s face looked a little pink before he turned away…?

“How did you know to get me Sour Patch Kids?” Keith asked, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. He traced his finger over the serrated edge of the package, feeling the plastic on his fingertips, before tearing it open and popping a gummy into his mouth. He rolled the candy around his tongue, letting himself feel the roughness of the outside before it melted. It was always his favorite part about eating them. That, and he liked the sour part.

It took Lance a second to respond. When he did, his voice was a little timid. It was almost difficult to hear over the music, which started to play again–something peppy Keith had heard on the radio before.

“Well, they’re your favorite, right? And I mean, you are eating them so I’m guessing they still are.” Lance’s face scrunched up. “You’re not one of those people who eats things they hate just to be polite, right?” Keith rolled his eyes, laughing a little at the horrified look on Lance’s face.

“Of course I’m not like that,” Keith replied, “If I hate something, you’re gonna damn well know how much I hate it. Pidge can testify.” Keith suddenly called to the front of the car, “Pidge! Remember Thanksgiving last year?”

“Oh yeah, my gross great-aunt Sheryl kept trying to get you to eat the green beans.” Pidge turned to clarify. “Keith kept telling her he hated green beans, but she wasn’t listening and wouldn’t let him leave and she kept trying to put a spoonful onto his plate. Keith ended up yelling at her. Oh god I can still hear it now: ‘I do NOT want any of your slimy white-people food Sheryl. I’ve eaten ass that tastes better than your cooking.’ Man, Sheryl shut the fuck up after that. It was amazing.”

“You did not.” Lance nudged Keith’s shoulder in amazed disbelief. “No wait, I can totally see it. Holy shit, Keith, you’re my hero.” Lance was laughing, and his eyes crinkled at the corners, and his two front teeth were just a little crooked, and the slushie had dyed his tongue blue, and he was…beautiful. Keith couldn’t help but grin back at him, a little dazedly.

Soon, Lance finished his slushie, and was free to go back to singing along with his happy playlist. Every once in a while, Pidge would pipe in when they recognized something, and the two had a lovely duet to the PokeRap together. They took turns rapping each of the verses while the other beatboxed. Neither of them could beatbox.

Eventually, though, they pulled up to the chainlink fence encircling the Estate. High on the hill, the dilapidated mansion loomed above them, looking like every cliche from every old Scooby Doo cartoon. As they approached the fence, Keith saw Lance tense up. Hunk and Pidge were working on getting the equipment out of the car, so Keith turned to Lance, concerned.

“Are you okay?” Lance looked startled at the question, eyes tearing away from the Estate to focus on Keith.

“…Yeah, um…” Lance did not look okay at all. “I’m totally fine. I’ll be fine.” Lance sounded like he was trying to convince himself as he rubbed his own arms, as if he were cold. Keith, unused to comforting but wanting to help, put a hand on Lance’s bicep. Lance’s focus was again pulled away from the Estate and was entirely on Keith. He looked a little surprised, but not displeased, and was about to say something when suddenly a loud crash startled them both.

Lance clung to Keith’s arm, eyes darting fearfully around him. He was slouched down and pressed so close Keith could feel the rapid beating of his heart. Overcome with the urge to protect, Keith had to resist the way his arm wanted to wrap around Lance’s waist and tug him closer.

“Sorry about that, guys!” Hunk said, drawing their attention to the heavy-looking piece of machinery in front of him. Though the danger was apparently gone, Lance still hadn’t let go of Keith. Not that Keith was particularly complaining.

Pidge caught sight of them, however, and gave Keith the most devious look. Keith groaned internally, knowing already he would be forced to sit through an endless barrage of teasing when they got home.

“Okay, how do we get in?” Hunk had piled up the equipment onto a metal trolley Keith had stolen from the highschool when he was in the 7th grade.

“There’s an area of fence that isn’t in the ground properly, so we can lift it to get inside,” Keith said, casually, “I marked it off with some rope, but after this we shouldn’t need to come back, so I’m probably just going to take my rope back with me.”

“How did you find that part of the fence?” Hunk asked.

“We scoped out the place a while ago.” Pidge grinned. “Allura said not to go inside but she said nothing about just circling the perimeter. We gotta be thorough.”

The group followed Keith as he walked around the edge of the fence, looking for the knot of rope.

“Oh, there it is. Farther than I remember.” The rope was eye-level, so Keith just reached into his waistband to pull out his knife and slice it off.

“Woah! Dude! Why do you just have a knife on you?” Lance’s grip on Keith’s arm had tightened, and he jumped back a little bit–without letting go of course.

“Um…I always carry this on me?”

“Just…in your pants? You just carry a knife…in your pants…at all times?” Lance was speaking slowly.

“…yes?”

“I was going to make a bad joke right now but the mojo around this place is really getting to me. Can we just get on with it?” Lance sighed tiredly. He leaned against Keith’s shoulder, his hair tickling Keith’s cheek. Keith stiffened but didn’t move. Hunk caught his eye and mouthed ‘sorry’ at him. Apparently Lance’s touchiness got worse when he was scared…?

Hunk, being the tallest, lifted the fence so they could all walk through. From inside the gate, the Estate actually didn’t look as far away. As they made their way up the hill, they went over the gameplan.

“Okay, so I’ll start recording when we get to the porch. We walk into the house and hang around the first big room recording data with the equipment until we get something, or until we don’t get something, then we move to the next room,” Pidge explained, “Whatever we do, though, we always stick with the group. No walking around on your own. I mean, this place is old as balls and is probably rotting as we speak so it’s just safer.”

With every step they tool approaching the Estate, Lance just seemed to inch himself closer and closer to Keith. Eventually Lance had stepped on the back of Keith’s shoes one time too many and Keith had to stop, which caused Lance to walk right into his back.

Keith looked back at Lance, prepared to be annoyed, but all he saw were Lance’s big blue eyes wide with terror.

“Hey, we’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay in there. You got this.” Keith’s voice was a little too quiet and stiff, but he hoped he was able to get his sincerity across. Keith pried Lance’s hands off of his arm and instead moved to clasp Lance’s hand with his own. Having Lance walking beside him was much better.

The group stood on the front porch, Lance had intertwined his fingers with Keith’s and was biting his lip as he stared at the door. Pidge took out their camera and put a hand on the doorknob.

The door creaked shrilly as it struggled open, the rusty hinges practically screaming at the strain. Pidge’s flashlight caught on the dust in the air and the gaping, moldy holes in the floorboards. They carefully tested every step before moving forward, as if they were looking for traps in an Indiana Jones movie. Everyone followed immediately behind them, not wanting to accidentally step on a weak area of the floor. Eventually, they had all piled into the front room, with a big spiral staircase to the right and doorways to the front and left.

Pidge and Hunk set up the equipment on the trolley. Lance trembled next to Keith. A long, dry scratching noise sounded from somewhere on the floor above them, like fingernails being dragged over wood. Lance whimpered.

“Guys…I really, really don’t like this.” Lance mumbled.

“That was probably just some animal or something. Hunk and I haven’t finished setting up all the way but we don’t have any super strong readings yet, at least not from this room.” Pidge turned to Hunk. “Do you think we should move on?”

The group looked around the room at their options. They had decided beforehand going upstairs was too dangerous, and the doorway to the left was blocked off by fallen ceiling beams. The only way to go was forward.

“Keith and Lance, you guys go first to scope out the area and make sure it’s safe. Pidge and I need to make sure the equipment will be okay. Can you handle that, buddy?” Hunk said the last part to Lance, mostly. Lance nodded shakily, nails digging painfully, unintentionally, into Keith’s hand.

They slowly progressed down what was revealed to be a narrow hallway. The only light was from Keith and Pidge’s flashlights, and the murky sunlight that filtered through the holes in the ceiling at random intervals. The scratching noise started up again, this time more aggressive–starting and stopping like something was repeatedly dragging its claws over the same spot. From behind them, glass broke.

Lance grit his teeth, jaw clenching painfully. What felt like an actual, physical force shoved into Keith’s back, a chill washing over the room. Keith stumbled into Lance.

“Woah! What the fuck!” Pidge cried, “Guys! We just got a massive spike in activity!”

Lance’s unoccupied hand reached up to press against his head, his eyes clenched tightly. The scratching grew louder, closer. More glass broke from somewhere. The chill had brought wind. From behind them, the sound of footsteps over rubble. Lance groaned.

“Lance? Are you okay?” Hunk asked from behind them.

Then, Lance fell to his knees, his pained groans growing louder as he pressed both hands to his temples. Hunk tried to rush forward. The scratching stopped only to be replaced with the sounds of doors slamming shut, and the clatter of wooden boards being met with blunt force. The footsteps on rubble grew closer.

“No…no, no!” Lance mumbled, voice hoarse, “Stay out! Stay out! Get away from me!” His hands gripped at his hair. The light shone a murky gray over him, the dust spiraling around his body. All of the light disappeared for half a second–the flashlights, the equipment, the sun–

Everything came back, brighter, and less than five feet in front of them stood a massive, ancient looking floor-length mirror that hadn’t been there before.

Several things happened at once.

Lance screamed. The mirror shattered. Keith felt claws gripping his arm as he tried to lunge for Lance. The floorboards below them gave out. Darkness.

Keith felt a searing pain in his side, and a throbbing in his head. He belatedly realized he still had his flashlight in his hand and slammed it against his hand until it worked again. He stood slowly, legs shaking, and coughed when he inhaled dust.

“Lance?” He asked, voice wavering. Then, more sure: “Lance!”

Keith heard a responding groan and raced to it as fast as his injuries would allow. He dropped the flashlight and kneeled by Lance, who was curled into the fetal position, whining in pain, though he didn’t have any visible wounds. Unlike Keith, who could feel the blood warm and sticky at his side, plastering his shirt to his skin.

“Lance?” Keith asked gently, turning Lance over to look at his face. Lance was dazed, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Lance!”

Then, the room started to quake violently. Keith wildly waved his phone around him, trying to gague the room while shielding his eyes from falling debris. Around him, pantries and shelves were rattling and shaking, their old glass bottles like a sick imitation of windchimes, before falling and smashing on the floor. The wooden planks on the walls thumped against each other, splintering at every crash. Keith curled over Lance, who was still unresponsive.

Then, a voice.

A raspy voice, like a sharp stone scraping against a metal plate, ear-bleedingly shrill and gritty. The voice spoke in a language Keith couldn’t understand, yet it still made his blood run cold. He swaddled Lance into his arms protectively, cradling him, a hand going to clutch at his knife.

A figure, foggy at the edges like an old watercolor painting, appeared in front of him, glowing with a pulsing light, flickering in and out of existence. The only things Keith could make out were thin strands of stringy, messy hair and long fingernails caked with blood and dirt. The figure had no mouth. Its eyes were blank. And yet it spoke, inching closer, a twitching arm reaching towards Lance’s limp body. Keith bared his teeth, knife raised threateningly.

Lance twitched. The figure’s hand came dangerously close to brushing a claw against Lance’s face, and Keith saw red, slashing viciously at the arm. The creature gave an indecipherable sound of agony, loud and harsh and grating. Then it surged backwards as if being forcefully dragged away, a heavy wind followed their movements, throwing broken glass and rubble into Keith’s back. He hunched over Lance, who had started to shift.

When the wind died down, Keith felt Lance shiver. Then, he convulsed violently, gasping desperately like he was struggling for air. A hand gripped Keith’s arm, the other going to claw at his neck.

“Oh shit, shit shit!” Keith hissed to himself. He stuck his knife between his teeth so he could use his free hand to pull Lance’s nails away from his own throat. Keith immobilized Lance’s hand by grabbing it with his own, a facsimile of how their fingers had been intertwined before. Lance’s body spasmed a few more times before going still again, his breathing evening out.

Keith stared into Lance’s eyes and felt a wave of relief wash over him when they refocused.

“….Keith?” Lance’s voice was a whisper. “Why do you have your knife in your mouth? ….And why is it glowing?”

Keith blinked. Lance sat up slowly and Keith used the hand not holding Lance’s to take the blade out from his teeth. He turned it in his hand, quizzically. The familiar runes were glowing a neon purple–which provided them with light, thankfully, since Keith had no damn idea where the flashlight went.

“Do you remember what happened?” Keith asked. Lance rubbed his forehead with his palm, looking pained.

“I….uh…there was this presence, and it kept slamming into my head, trying to get in…it was so dark, Keith, like, usually with ghosts I feel some of what they feel but this one was nothing… it was just…empty.” Lance swallowed. “Then there was a mirror and it showed me everything. Everything that had ever happened in this house, all of the people who died here, what happened to them. The images just kept coming and coming over and over and I could hear them. Eventually the screaming stopped and it was crying but worse than that was the silence. Because when there was silence there was nothing to hide the rest of the sounds of the machines and the hacking and the sizzling–oh god, Keith.”

Lance threw himself into Keith’s arms, burying his face in Keith’s shoulder, his arms flung over Keith’s neck. Keith couldn’t imagine what Lance had been through. Lance took a few, shuddering breaths before he pulled away.

“We…should really get out of here,” Lance mumbled, not looking at Keith.

“Yeah, we need to get Hunk and Pidge and never come back to this shithole.” Keith stood, wincing at the pain in his side. Now that Lance was okay, the wound had made itself known again, tenfold.

“Shit, Keith, are you okay?” Lance tried to look at Keith’s side, but Keith gritted his teeth and shook his head. “I’ll be fine. We just need to figure out where the hell we are and how to get back before that fucking thing shows up again.”

“…What thing?”

“The fucking ghost thing, whatever the fuck it was. It tried to touch you when you were, uh, out of it. But then it left.”

“Jesus Christ.” Lance’s voice was strained. “Long nails? Ugly long hair with garbage split ends?”

“…yes?”

“Fuck. Yeah, okay, we really gotta leave.”

The two had guessed they were somewhere in the kitchen storage, and that the servant’s quarters should be nearby. From there they could find a staircase and get the fuck out. Lance mentioned Hunk and Pidge, and when Keith suggested checking their phones, Lance dejectedly told him that the ghost probably drained all their batteries.

“Tell me, doc, is it bad?” Lance said dramatically, eyes shut as he held out his phone to Keith.

“Shut up,” Keith said in lieu of admitting Lance was totally right.

The floors were littered with old junk they had to step around–bottles and furniture and broken things Keith didn’t want to compare to bones. Lance clung to him, whispering prayers under his breath. Every once in awhile Lance would cringe and tuck his face into Keith’s arm, whining quietly as they stood stock still. In those moments activity would pick up again, and Keith’s body would stiffen at every scrape, drag, and crash he heard around them. They always moved a little faster when they heard any sound come from behind them, though.

Eventually they stumbled into the servant’s quarters, which was marked with an old, faded sign on the wall.

“Yanno, this place kinda reminds me of a Skyrim dungeon, yanno? All the old wooden furniture and weird glitches from the fucking ghosts really bring that atmosphere together.” Lance muttered. While Keith didn’t see anything, Lance would swear up and down he could catch glimpses of blood splattering on the walls, old chains swinging from the ceiling, giant cockroaches skittering across the floor, doors and chairs blinking in and out of existence. He said it had something to do with the bad energy of the house messing with him–whatever was haunting the place had some real twisted visions.

Lance held Keith’s hand as they crossed the small room. Keith was seconds away from testing the first of the weak looking steps when Lance suddenly stiffened. Color drained from his face as he stared directly at Keith, whispering one word:

“Run.”

They had started barreling up the staircase, hand in hand, when the room behind them exploded. Metal cutlery and splintered wood bursting forwards, the ancient bedframes jumping from their places to shoot through the ceiling. They heard a high-pitched scream from somewhere in the house. The raspy voice came back with an animalistic screech.

Keith could see fucking light at the top of the staircase when suddenly his hand was jerked down.

“Fuck!” Lance yelled. He yanked his foot from where it had broken a hole in through the stair, but it woudln’t budge. The disaster of the servant’s quarters was drawing nearer, the cold presence of the ghost nipping at Keith’s ankles. Keith let go of Lance’s hand–noting with desperate heartbreak the sad, resigned look on Lance’s face at the action–and moved to grip Lance at the waist with both arms, wrenching him out of the floor and throwing his body over his shoulder to race up the rest of the way. The stairs they had passed started to shatter behind them, one by one, and clawmarks slowly appeared on the walls, rising along behind them, gaining more and more speed until Keith was bounding two steps at a time to avoid getting caught on the splinters. By the time they reached the top step, Keith hurled Lance into the next room and turned to slam the door behind him, his knife still clutched in hand.

Keith’s chest heaved, the pain burning sharply. He knew the wound at his side had most likely torn even deeper. Keith’s eyes caught on the soft glow of his knife as it pulsated under his palm, slow and steady. From behind him, Keith heard a pained groan.

“Oh, shit– Lance.” Keith turned to see Lance sprawled on the floor, legs thrown up against the side of a counter at the far end of the small room.

“Wow, thanks Keith. If I wasn’t injured before I sure as fuck am now. Jesus.” Lance crossed his arms, looking entirely un-pleased at the turn of events. He looked pretty silly like that, pouting and upside down. Keith laughed breathlessly, partially from the image, and partially from the sheer overwhelming emotional overload he was experiencing. Lance grinned back, laughing just as breathlessly as he laid there on the floor.

“So…” Lance started after their laughter had pittered out.

“Yeah…” Keith responded.

“Where are we now?”

“Uh, the servant’s kitchens, I think. Around here there should be a back door, but there’s gonna also be a few hallways and sitting rooms or something.”

“Okay…let’s get walking I guess,” Lance said. He reached his arms out in a grabby motion. “Help me up? The blood is rushing to my head.”

Other than some bruises, Lance was fine. Keith was praying they could finally leave without anymore fanfare. They were making their way down the only unblocked hallway, heart rates finally slowing back to some kind of normalcy, when they heard the awful, horrible, dragging of claws behind them.

“Oh come the FUCK on!” Lance cried. He and Keith started running again. “We JUST got away from this bitch!”

The hallway seemed to grow infinitely longer, the end twisting and morphing like a bad optical illusion. Keith felt bile rise in his throat. Lance groaned and clambered for Keith’s hand, trying to keep steady.

A mirror appeared in front of them and Lance screamed. This time, Keith could catch a glimpse of what was reflected. He saw a familiar set of eyes staring back at him solemnly before Lance had pulled him into a room. Another mirror appeared in the doorway before being immediately shattered, forcing Keith and Lance to step back further into the room.

The figure appeared in front of them again. Keith tugged Lance behind him. The figure once again reached its clawed arm towards Lance, and Keith growled deep in his throat. He sharply raised his knife, its light suddenly intensifying. The creature hissed, rearing back. Keith slashed towards it blindly, emboldened but not thinking properly. The creature screamed and vanished again. Keith looked down at his knife.

“I think…I think it’s afraid of my knife…” Keith mumbled, “Why the fuck is a ghost afraid of my knife?”

“I….I don’t know Keith…” Lance panted in between breaths, “Maybe…maybe I’ll fucking ask her when she’s not trying to kill us.”

“Her?”

Lance stiffened, looking uncomfortable.

“When that mirror appeared again…I saw her. She was just as pretty in life as she is now, Keith. Something evil seeped into this house a long time ago, and she became its keeper.”

Then there was silence.

“Let’s just go, Keith, I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

They started walking again. The hallway had returned back to normal.

At the end of the hall, there was a massive set of double doors. There were halls to the left and right, but they were blocked by rubble and holes in the floor. Once again, the only way to go was forward. Lance swallowed thickly.

“There is something really off about this damn room,” he muttered. Keith nodded, somehow able to feel what Lance was saying.

The doors opened much too easily–smooth and quiet, as if maintained. They were in perfect condition. The room they contained was packed floor to ceiling with books, desks and corkboards and flyaway papers everywhere. The room smelled heavily of ink and chemicals.

“It’s…the study.” Keith furrowed his brow. The ceiling was glass, so the whole room was illuminated with bright daylight. Unlike the other rooms, this one was void of dust, and stood perfectly still and golden, as if frozen in time. They walked forward cautiously.

Pristinely on the back wall, high above their heads, the centerpiece of the room: an enormous, oil painted family portrait.

“It’s…the Zarkons, right?” Lance had whispered.

There had been no evidence left of the family’s existence aside from their name, and the cryptic blueprints that had been scrounged up from old records. The portrait showed a mother, father, and young child–though the faces of the father and child had been burnt away, and the mother’s eyes had been savagely scratched out.

The massive wooden doors slammed shut behind them. The ghostly figure that had been stalking them stood once again before them. Mirrors appeared around her, encircling the room. Reflected in them was the painted mother, with her serene smile and clawed x’s over her eyes.

Keith held his dagger securely. In knowing it would protect them, somehow, he felt stronger. Fleetingly, a thought crossed his mind and he quietly gave thanks to Red, who he kept thinking about ever since Lance mentioned her. He apologized for being shit at taking care of himself when she was trying so hard. Despite that, though, he knew he was at least going to go down fighting, and he was going to go down fighting tooth and nail to protect Lance.

The figure started approaching them once more, the mirrors closing in along with her creaking movements.

“Fuck! If we’re gonna die here, I gotta say something–” Lance cried. Keith wanted to tell him they would get out alive, but Lance interrupted before he could– “I love my family so much, and I miss them a lot; I wish I’d told Hunk how much I appreciate him; I should’ve reminded Pidge how fucking brilliant they are, and fuck, Keith, I should’ve told you I liked you sooner.” Then Lance did something unthinkable. He darted forward and pressed his lips to Keith’s cheek, firmly but for just a second, then hid his face into Keith’s neck again.

Keith barely had the time to process Lance’s words when a rush enveloped him–a thrumming wave, as if he were caught underwater in a storm. It pounds in his head and he could feel it down to his teeth but it was somehow empowering. Somehow familiar. And the creature drew forward quicker and Keith’s knife grew so bright it overpowered the sunlight in the room so there was nothing but a bright, bright white and Keith lunged forward towards the creature. He shoved his arm forward, stabbing his knife and pushing it deeper into something he couldn’t fathom, he distantly heard screaming but it was muted and drowned by the thrumming in his head and he felt powerful in every bone in his body, his hands gripping the handle of his blade. He felt another set of hands over his own and with that he was able to finally force his way through.

The light faded. It took awhile for Keith’s eyes to adjust, but when they did, he was faced with the unnervingly empty study, the mirrors and the figure gone. Exhausted, Keith collapsed to his knees, looking up at the skylight with glazed eyes.

“Holy shit…” Lance whispered, awe and disbelief in his voice. He kneeled by Keith, grabbing the other’s face to look him dead in the eye, an exhilarated expression on his face. “Keith…I don’t know how the fuck you did it but– you did it. She’s…I’m…she’s gone!”

Then Lance, still gripping Keith’s face, pulled that face forward to firmly press his lips to Keith’s.

“That was so fucking awesome, Keith.” Lance was breathless when he pulled back, the adrenaline mixing with their relief in an intoxicating combination that made people do stupid, wonderful things like kiss their amazing, wonderful, stupid friends.

Keith’s brain still hadn’t caught up to the events that had occured when Lance gasped and suddenly turned.

Keith’s eyes focused on another figure, this one more complete and solid looking than the last, with a face Keith had only ever seen in old photographs in the backs of closets. The new figure looked down on them without a smile, but the look in her familiar eyes was soft.

“…Mom?” Keith’s voice was so, so small. She slowly lowered to the floor, appearing weightless still. She slowly picked up the knife from where it had clattered to the floor. Keith timidly reached a hand to meet hers as she handed him the knife. She smiled softly at him, before blinking out of his sight.

Before either Keith or Lance could say anything, the wooden doors burst open again, but instead of a ghost, it was Shiro, in full uniform.

“Keith! Are you okay?” Shiro approached them, and Lance looked extremely confused and shocked.

“Woah okay, did I get knocked out in that weird blast because I can’t be having that hot firefighter dream again what the fuck,” Lance mumbled only half-coherently.

“Ew, Lance what the fuck that’s my brother.”

“Oh…oops….sorry Keith,” Lance said distractedly, watching as Shiro lifted away some heavy debris from the door.

Eventually they were out of the house, escorted safely by Shiro, who Lance could not keep his eyes off of.

The moment they stepped out onto the grass they both had an armful of Pidge barreling towards them.

“Y’all are idiots, holy shit,” Pidge had yelled at them, pounding their tiny fists into their chests angrily.

“Ow, Pidge, injured here.” Keith had muttered, still a little bitter about the way Lance’s face was bright red when Shiro went to check for injuries on him. When Keith spoke, Shiro’s head snapped up and he immediately went to his brother.

“How bad is it?” Shiro said, motioning for Hunk to come over with a first aid kit in hand.

“Uh…” Keith tried to lift his shirt and winced. Shiro’s brow furrowed.

“Holy shit, Keith.” Lance’s eyes were back on him, extremely concerned. Keith was a little smug about having Lance’s attention again, for some damn reason. Why was he–

“Oh.“ Keith’s lips slowly slunk into a devilish grin. He couldn’t mention it in that exact moment–not with everyone around–but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t say anything the second he got the chance.

The hospital was a blur, but Keith was able to zone out while his side got patched up, and was finally able to process what had happened. Sort of. He was at least able to think about it a little bit, but in the end, he boxed away thoughts of his mother for another, more mentally stable day, choosing to instead remember how Lance smelled like fresh flowers when he was near, and how soft his hands were when they held his face.

Keith shouldn’t have been allowed out of the hospital so quickly, but they made it happen somehow, probably because of Shiro. They’d all decided to go out for a celebratory picnic at the park, because apparently Hunk cooked a lot when he was stressed, and was making sandwiches nonstop for the few hours Keith was in the hospital.

Lance had already told the others what had happened on their end–with a lot of embellishment, and suspiciously leaving out the confession and the appearance of Keith’s mother. In turn, Pidge told them what happened to themselves and Hunk: they’d been chased around by the ghost, and it smashed all their equipment, but they were able to get out through a boarded up door that Hunk apparently “shredded with his bare hands”, though they panicked when they realized Keith and Lance weren’t with them and immediately called Shiro.

Eventually, Keith noticed that Lance had wandered off away from the group. Keith searched for him, also sneaking away to follow where the other was. Sitting in the bed of Keith’s truck with a blanket from the backseat, Lance was staring at the slowly pinkening sky with a far-away look on his face.

“Party too boring for you?” Keith said casually, laughing a little as Lance jumped.

“Oh, hey Keith,” Lance replied, smiling. “How’s your side?”

“It’ll be fine.” Keith bit his lip, risking a chance by moving to sit next to Lance. His legs dangled off the side, and Lance’s were curled up under him criss-cross. “So…today has been fucking insane.”

“Oh Christ. Understatement of the damn year. Worst haunting of my life, I never want to step foot anywhere near another house that’s more than fifty years old ever again.”

“I keep thinking about everything that had happened…I know it’s all over but…” Keith sighed, noting how Lance looked at him a little worried, “…I feel like there’s something we haven’t finished…”

Keith shifted to face Lance more fully, one of his legs lifting to rest on the other side of Lance’s body in the truck. Keith leaned in slowly, a crooked grin on his face. He felt Lance’s breath on his face, and the stumble in its rhythm when Keith moved closer. Looking into Lance’s pretty blue eyes he saw them focusing on Keith’s mouth before flicking up to meet his eyes.

“It might be the painkillers messing with me, but I distinctly remember it went a little something like this…” Keith gently took Lance’s hands and placed them on his own face. Lance’s tongue darted to wet his lower lip before he made a quiet, frustrated noise and pulled Keith’s face to his own–just like he did before, only this time, Keith met him with equal fervor, arms coming to rest on Lance’s waist and tugged him closer, Lance lifting onto his knees to slot in between Keith’s thighs. Their kiss was warm and slow. When they pulled back, Lance’s face had a dazed looking grin, and Keith felt bubbly and gooey in his chest, knowing he had the same goofy smile.

“So…wanna go out for some coffee or something?” Lance asked impishly.

“I just saved your skinny ass from an evil ghost, the least you could do is take me out,” Keith replied, just as playful.

“Dork.” Lance leaned his head onto Keith’s chest, relaxing like a lazy cat while Keith’s arms came to circle around him. Keith reached over to drape the blanket over both of them, and Lance sighed contently as he snuggled up closer. They whispered stupid jokes to each other as they watched the sunset.

#voltronss2k17 #voltron secret santa #klance #voltron #fic #keith kogane #lance mcclain #pidge gunderson #hunk garret #princess allura #shirogane takashi #matt holt #paranormal au

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