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kanene-yaaay · 4 years

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What is it?

Kanene’s note: Heyioooo!!! How are you all, my dear lollipop? Gooooosh! I really missed to post something dfghjukioljuhghgf. Well, I was talking with the incredible @cefsticklestoo and she said one of her favorite Tickle-Tropes was Alien/Robot discovering about tickles, and then I got really inspired asdfgyhujuhgfghj. xDD.

Hope you all appreciate the story as much as I loved to write it!!! Thank you for your time! Have a wonderful day and a wonderful life! Never forget how much special you are, lollipop! <3

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Logan and Ler!Roman (It can be seen as Romantic or Platonic if you want. There is some kind of flirt but only if you squint).

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* Something around 1500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* I wrote a big part of it during my class. I could feel the adrenaline in my veins and almost had a heart attack when my friend asked me ‘what are you writing’ dfghjhgfdfghjhg. D a n g e r.

* Vou tentar escrever a versão em português! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Watch a fun video, take a good rest, talk with the one that you love, drink water and be careful with your creations, they can easly get very curious, ya know! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Logan smiled, for the first time in a really long period, as he watched his creation finally became alive. Their metallic, shiny eyes blinked and the android focused them in his form, their face, even if mirrored his, opened in one of the most perfect and bright smiles Logan had even seen.

- It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear subject! - Roman (What he could do? Logan always kept a secret love for the Roman Empire) spin in the same place as if testing out his movements. The mechanic and scientist opened his mouth, ready to answer his question until all the exhaustion and tiredness took over the entirety of his mind, suppressing the adrenaline of, after all this time, presence his creation finally works.

And then he passed out.

…

He blinked a few times. His head didn’t hurt, which probably meant that the android managed to catch him before his expected encounter with the floor. Thank to Newton that Logan didn’t spared efforts to apprimorete his reflexives responses. He sat, appreciating the feeling the cozy fabric of his bed’s comforts (how much time was since he actually slept in it?), before being tossed in his initial position, again.

- WHAT IS IT?? - In Roman’s hands diverses paint cans struggled to not fall from their firm grip. The strength of their arms, which one day were known as white, was completely colored in a mix of various colors and shades.

- P-paint cans. - Logan cleared his throat while the colored let themself fell, sitting on the scientist’s legs, their vision unfocused, probably accessing on his internet the meaning of his words, their smile increasing more and more. - How much time I was unconscious?

- It’s beautiful. - Their glare returned to stare only the painting and cans, their nose wrinkling in a disgruntled expression. Logan didn’t remembered doing their features so adorably. - It’s awful. I'm going to need to redo it. - Their face then gleamed, as if Roman had the most brilliant idea in the whole world. - Can I practice on you?

- Pardon me?

- ‘Practice makes perfect’ it’s a pretty common saying, you know?

- I didn’t mean...- The one with glasses sighed under the expecting, excited and slightly confused look of the other. It was against his principles to deny knowledge in any and every form to anyone. - Yes. However, I plead you use a paint brush.

- Paint brush?

- Small object used in order to applying paint.

Roman took the said out of a small compartment in his shoulder.

- I thought it was a kind of ornament. - Wet the object first in the red can and started to work, their ability of improvement was almost mesmerizing, the shapes gained more complexity and precision as the drawing danced across his forearm, so much that Logan didn’t even noticed it inevitable destiny as its bristles lightly touched the base of his neck.

The mechanic nearly jumped, a yelp escaping from his lips while his body jerked, but not much, from the sensation, a wobbly smile taking over his features without his permission.

- Hey!!! You made me blur it!!! - Angry pout. Their eyes met. - Wait. You did it again.

- What? - Logan was too much occupied controlling his impulse to rub the tingling sensation in his neck to acknowledge the shine, which spread in Roman’s eyes, joyfully mesmerizing his smile one more time.

- That. You made that thing when I woke up. - Then they stared their brush. - What did I do?

- T-this was o-only an involuntary response of my nervous system. - ‘It’s not a big deal, Logan. It’s NOT a big deal. Stop blushing and smiling in that EXACT moment!!’ - It’s called - Come on, Logan. You are a responsible, serious, rational, respected, mature male human. You made an android, you definitely can say this only one word without stuttering. - T-t-tickles. - …. I gave up.

- Tickles? - Unfocused eyes and suddenly the one with glasses notice how much their creation in his legs could incapacity him from runni- I mean, strategically move away. - Your search history has plenty of results to that word. You are addicted.

-I-I'm not 'addicted'! I'm just… a little fond for the subject. - His face clouded itself in a frown.

-Wait, no! Do that thing again! - Roman scribbled again the brush on his neck, making Logan close firmly his lips and eyes, trying to stop the freedom of all the tons and tons of bubbling giggles that spin and accumulated themselves in his chest, his body shook with the struggling. - Why aren't you doing that sound anymore?

Their hand let go of the object and the scientist breathed again, ignoring the heating that only increased further in his cheeks. The android's fingers dig in his armpits, releasing a high pitched squeal from the other.

-Ouch! Whahahait! That hurt! - Roman retreated, a confused expression in his face.

-But… I did exactly as the human in that video…

Logan tried to ignore equally the fact that the Android really was interested in that human activity and this look of slight sadness and curiosity as Roman stared their hands. The one with glasses signed, defeated.

It was against his principles to deny knowledge in any and every form to anyone.

-You need to do it like that. - He raised his hands, wriggling his fingers and not realizing the wobbly smiling showing in his face when the other started to mirroring his movements, tingles and shivers running all through his body and waking up the excited butterflies in his stomach. - And you can't put all your strength in this, the nerves are sensitive to the most light touch.

-Like that? - Roman deflected from his hands, finding way to his neck, their fingertips barely touching under his chin as they tickled and tracing shapes as the went from a side to another, Logan muffling his fast giggles behind his hands and trying to not move (just because of the lesson, sure. It wasn't like he was liking this or anything like that.) away from the unbearable feeling that made his smile spread more and more.

-ExhahahahahaHA - Roman found a particularly ticklish spot right behind his ear, Logan almost could see an evil grin in the android's features, even if he haven't programmed that expression on them. A malign thought hit him as well. - E-e-hehehehexactly! But, thahahahahat… - He fought the urge to squeak as Roman tried again the paint brush, each bristle slowly scratching his sensitive spot and leading the giggly-flow to fall quickly. The good was that the, as it seemed, artist was too much distracted to notice Logan's hands getting dangerously close. - … can also works as well!

The scientist, just for the sake of the lesson of course, suddenly attacked their ribs, his fingers quickly spidering up and down, sometimes poking, multiples of times even when the Android jumped, exploding in a loud, melodious laughter that, for a moment, stopped everything else.

Their eyes met, a smirk beginning to form in his face-

But then Roman's fingers decided to tickle his tummy, and Logan automatically lost it, his hands clapping firmer in his mouth as real laughter, together with some snorts, started to float from his lips. Roman unfairly skilled squeezes spread across every single inch of his so, so much ticklish spot, kneading and scribbling his right, his left, up, down, just to repeat all of this again and again and again…

-It's working!!! - Their fast, unbearable tickles found that exactly spot right under his navel that leaded to the current flow of squeals and snorts that fell from his mouth, his giggles getting higher as his ticklish, softly scratches almost made him want to jump from his skin, squirming more profusely. - I didn't even knew that humans could make these sounds!!

-SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UP! - His whole face was boiling, his smile so big that it was possible to see even behind his hands. - NahahahaHAHAHAHA!

-Hey!! Stop it right now! It's not fair, I'm working hard here!! Show me your smile! - An only one damn finger poked curiously his belly button, making his hands really get of his mouth, flying to hold the others wrists. Roman couldn't stop smiling, even more when they fixed their eyes in Logan's face, his glasses askew, wrinkled nose, wobbly smile and infinite giggles. Each little poke resulting in a shriek. - Cool! This is your squeaky button!

His blush spread to his ears.

-Thihihihis is NOHOHOHOT how th -sTOP- ihihihis called!!!

Roman began to scribble the most ticklish spot, their index finger dancing inside his navel and Logan fell in an explosion of laughter, crackling, snorting and squeaking, legs bouncing and head shaking, as if he could deny the sensation.

-Sure it is! I'm poking and you're squeaking!

-Thihihihihis is nOHOHOT HOW THIHIHIHihihihis wORK! - Roman leaned down their head, a suborn look of determination in their eyes. - Nohohohohoho!! DohohOHOHOHON'T!

-IT. IS. - And then they blew a raspberry directly in his tummy button. A scream escaped from Logan's lips before he fell in a silent laughter. The Android stopped, eyes widen open as they stared him.

-I'm sorry. I thought I…

-N-nohohoho. - The scientist took off his glasses, wiping the tears from his eyes. - It's ohohokahahay, you stohohopped in the rihihight moment. - He let his gigantic smile remained in his face, his giggles floating in the air, showing he was truly okay. As soon as Roman realized, they let a proud smile took over his features.

-See? I told you it was a squeaky button!

#Tickle fanfic #Sanders Sides tickling #Lee!Logan #Ler!Roman #Roman is an android #Logan is his creator #Fluff #Tickling #Ticklish!Logan #Just a little of Lee!Roman and Ler!Logan #KaneneArt #KaneneFanfic #Small oneshot #Tw: passing out #Logan is a confused cute mess #Roman is an adorable curious mess #<333 #I'm so sleepy an it's raining oh goooosh #Alternative Universe

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sp4c3-0ddity · 5 years

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Dueling Hearts - 2

Chapter Summary:

Lance is dumb, Pidge is confused, and Allura thinks everything is going Great!

Chapters: 2/7 Word Count: 8052 (12 346 total)

Read Chapter One

A/N:

the cheesiest of chapters

Read Below (or here on ao3):

“Well, no one’s wittier or more courageous than you,” Lance half-grumbles when she asks him what he thinks once they return to the Castle.

“What’s your problem?” Pidge demands. She grips the wreath so tightly in her hand she contemplates trying to snap or tear it in half. Instead she contents herself with setting it on the lounge table before unclasping her cape from her gorget and dropping it in a pile on the couch.

Lance’s eyes pinch shut, and he seems to compose himself before he opens them and smiles. “Nothing,” he says too mildly. “You deserve all the wreaths.”

The telltale wrinkle on Lance’s forehead that indicates he’s not as happy as he’s trying to appear tempts Pidge. She wants to bridge this gap between them and smooth it away, whether with a fingertip pressed to his brow or with her words…only she doesn’t know what words would do the trick.

But she crosses her arms before sighing in resignation and dropping onto the sofa beside him. “You’re getting dirt on the couch,” she observes.

Lance groans and leans back, his head falling on the sofa’s back. “Let me wallow for a little, Pidge.”

“You’re not still grumpy about falling from your grof so many times, are you?” Pidge rests a hand on his shoulder and adds, “You weren’t there to hear it, but Keith said you didn’t seem bad for a beginner.”

“My experience horseback-riding commends me,” Lance replies with a snort, “and Keith was also a beginner…unless grof-back-riding was part of his Blade training.” But he turns to her with a smile more genuine than the last. “How should I know you’re not just making that up to make me feel better?”

Pidge raises an eyebrow. “First of all I am trying to make you feel better,” she says, tactfully ignoring the way his face - closer than she realized when she sat beside him - flushes, “and second, am I really the sort of person to lie just to patch up your bruised ego?”

Lance chuckles. “Guess not.” His head rests against hers, his bristly, mud-crusted bangs tickling her forehead and making it difficult to breathe. “Getting my butt kicked did make me tired though…”

Pidge elbows him and retorts, “Then go to your room to sleep.”

“Why?” Lance covers his mouth to stifle a yawn that Pidge is almost certain is fake. “You’re a pretty good pillow…” His arms wrap around her middle, his body leaning more heavily against hers.

Pidge rolls her eyes but returns his loose embrace, something in her chest fluttering at the contact. “Now you’re going to get dirt on me,” she complains without much bite.

“Ugh, fine!” Lance stands and stretches, his arms extended over his head and a real yawn splitting his face. “I’m sore,” he says, rubbing his backside. “Hope I can still save a dance for you tomorrow night.” He throws Pidge a wink over his shoulder.

She bites her lip in a pathetic attempt to fight a smile, but she can’t do anything about the blush she’s sure colors her cheeks. “Only if you promise not to trip over the hem of my dress like last time.”

Lance coughs and averts his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “That was…not my smoothest moment.”

Pidge follows him from the lounge, the weight and excitement of the day beginning to take its toll and leaving her drained of energy. A million and one things to be done, to be considered and contemplated and taken apart…but all she wants to do is sleep.

Or cuddle with Lance, but not when they’re both still wearing their armor and his is still crusted with dried mud.

“And for quiznak’s sake, Lance, take a shower!” She waves a hand under her nose and smirks when his eyes widen in offense. “You smell like a swamp.”

Lance laughs, whipping his red cape around like an old-time Spanish matador. “Hey, you never know in a place like here; maybe the ladies like swamp stink.”

***

The gifts don’t end with the wreath of white flowers, and Pidge isn’t sure she likes being the prettiest girl in the room (so to speak).

She’s not so naive that she doesn’t recognize male attention when she’s subjected to it - although she’s rarely been on the receiving end of it, much less from the one person she’d welcome it from - but traveling to a diverse array of worlds has taught her that there’s one cultural constant among races with some kind of gender dimorphism:

The men declare their intent of courtship by showering the object of their romantic affection with gifts.

“I’ve barely said two words to him!” she exclaims when Coran shows her the box and relays the message from the courier.

“It still seems His Majesty is quite taken with you, Number Five,” he says, a broad grin under his bushy mustache. He peeks under the sizable box’s lid, and a low, appreciative whistle escapes his lips. “If I’m not mistaken, this gown is the height of Barsinian fashion.”

Pidge’s eyes widen, shock gripping her. “He sent me a dress?”

Coran clutches the box to his chest - as if it was a gift delivered to him, which Pidge would be all too happy to allow - and giggles. “Oh, he did, and he asks that you permit him to escort you to the ball at Tolemac Castle.”

“W—”

“What?” Lance stomps into the lounge, barely pausing for the sliding doors to open fully and with his jacket flapping around him. He halts a meter away from Pidge, his body turned towards her in a way that strikes her as distinctly…protective.

She doesn’t understand why when the most dangerous thing about a dress is risking tripping over the hem while climbing stairs.

(Unless her hypothesis that Barsinians embroider their clothes with some kind of circuitry for aesthetic purposes proves correct; then all bets are off.)

Pidge sighs, Lance’s reaction rankling her, and asks Coran, “Why does he want to escort me to the ball? Wasn’t the plan that we’d all go together?”

“Yes, well, it seems plans can be changed,” Coran points out. He taps his fingers against the box’s lid and adds, “Apparently the crowned woman is usually the winner’s wife, but in the event that she’s merely someone who has caught the winner’s interest—”

Lance muttered, “What the quiznak?”

“—the courier mentioned that it’s customary for them to attend the celebratory ball together.”

Pidge’s jaw drops as heat fills her; to hear it so blatantly…

An odd thrill hits her, and a smile pushes at her lips. It’s nice to be noticed sometimes, although she still has no idea why. And King Thurar seems intelligent, young, handsome even if in a rather inhuman way; why not accept his invitation and make the most of it, pick his brain on his scientists’ rumored near-instantaneous travel technology?

But she can’t help a sideways glance at Lance, can’t help wishing he noticed her instead, can’t help the heaviness of disappointment and even a little - and totally unnecessary - shame that twist in her gut.

The door slides open to admit Hunk and Keith, both in varying degrees of dress for the ball. “Why aren’t you guys getting ready yet?” Keith wonders, looking between Pidge and Lance.

“You’re one to talk,” Pidge deadpans. Her eyes narrow at the massive cowlick sticking up on the back of his head and the wrinkles in his black belted tunic.

Hunk laughs and smooths a hand over the back of Keith’s head. “We’ve still got time,” he says, “and I wouldn’t doubt Lance has already taken care of his more time-consuming prep.”

Lance stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets and shrugs. “I did a face mask.”

“See?” Hunk raises an eyebrow at Pidge. “What about you? I thought Allura convinced you to try a little makeup this time after you bought eyeshadow to go with that dress you found.”

“You bought makeup?” Lance says, turning incredulous eyes onto Pidge.

But she ignores him. She sighs, nodding towards the box Coran still holds, and confesses, “King Thurar sent me a dress, so I guess I’ll be wearing that one instead.” She crosses her arms and scowls at her feet. “I was really looking forward to wearing what I brought from Earth…”

“Oh?” Hunk grins, a spark of glee that Pidge doesn’t trust in his eyes. “King Thurar sent you a dress? So soon after bestowing a wreath upon his Queen of Wit and Courage?”

When Keith mirrors Hunk’s smirk, she knows what’s coming.

Hunk takes Keith’s hand with a delicate grip and bows over it. “Enchante, Mademoiselle Green Paladin,” he says, going so far as to kiss his knuckles. “You look positively ravishing in that dress I sent you.”

To Pidge’s shock, Keith plays along, covering his face with a mockingly bashful hand and giggling. “Oh, you are too kind, Your Majesty.”

“Would you do me the honor of this dance?” Hunk wonders with a grin while he rests a hand on Keith’s waist.

Keith’s hand falls on Hunk’s shoulder. “It would be my honor, Your Majesty.”

“…and becoming my bride?”

Pidge bursts into laughter, despite her warm face and mounting embarrassment, while Coran mutters, “I don’t understand; since when is Hunk royalty and since when is he courting Keith?”

Lance grumbles something too low for Pidge to catch, and she has no idea why he looks so put-out when their friends aren’t teasing him.

Her mirth vanishes as soon as Keith’s reply leaves his mouth:

“Why, Your Majesty,” Keith says with a suggestive smirk tossed at Pidge, “I cannot marry you, for my heart beats for—”

“Keith, your Pidge is out of character,” Lance cuts in with a scowl. “She’s never that polite.”

Pidge’s heart races while she wrings the hem of her sweater and pointedly avoids looking at Lance. And despite his comment - she can’t help a flicker of irritation - relief at his timely interruption fills her.

She inhales as she accepts the gift box from Coran and rolls her eyes at Hunk and Keith. “Hey, if it gets us teleportation, I’ll marry this king in a heartbeat,” she jokes.

Lance’s jaw drops before it shuts with a click of teeth. “W-what? We don’t need him for teleportation!” He points at Keith. “We have Kosmo!”

Pidge frowns and says, “It’s a joke, Lance. I’d rather marry y—never mind.” She turns her feet to the exit, her face hot and her eyes wide, shocked at what she almost let slip from her tongue. “I-I should go get ready; if I have a king escorting me I should probably look my best…”

***

“I look ridiculous.”

Pidge holds her arms out, staring at her billowing, voluminous sleeves. The cuffs trail well past her fingers and fall almost to the floor, the fabric ballooning along her upper arm and cinched just past the elbow. Delicate thread - circuitry that lights brighter with every step she takes, kinetic energy converted into electricity - nearly covers ever spare bit of fabric, embroidering a pattern Pidge can’t glean because it’s so busy.

And that’s only the start.

Her reflection dims, although she suspects that after a few dances her dress will light up like a quiznaking Christmas tree.

“You don’t look ridiculous, Pidge!” Allura reassures her with a hand on her puffed up shoulder. “You look…unique.” She shoots Pidge her diplomatic smile, the one just sincere enough to fool her into thinking she means it.

Allura is a vision in a pink and blue floor-length dress that leaves her arms bare except for silver bangles that ring together and collect at her wrists. It’s more daring - in Allura’s rather prim estimation - than what she usually prefers, but she claims Barsina’s humidity is getting to her.

Pidge suspects it’s also immodest according to Barsinian standards - she has yet to see anyone, male or female, with even their ankles or wrists exposed - but at the moment she’s too busy longing for the dress collecting dust in her closet.

And thanks to this monstrosity’s high collar, she can’t even wear the necklace with the Rover-shaped charm Lance bought her for her last birthday.

(Instead she loops it around her wrist, her long sleeves concealing it.)

Her hair proves to be less than a dilemma than she thought, Allura helping her pin it up into a tasteful bun and leaving a few loose strands to ring her face. Pidge then props the wreath from the tournament atop her head and attaches the bizarre streamer-like headdress, stabbing the hair stick through the bun and letting the glittering green fabric flow loosely behind her.

This, at least, isn’t so long she’ll trip over it…but there’s no guarantee she won’t sit on it.

If she can sit at all with all the ridiculous layers in this dress, she realizes as horror grips her and her feet stuffed into too-small flats ache preemptively.

“Why can’t I wear my own dress?” Pidge grumbles not for the first time.

Allura sighs while she picks at a few layers of fabric, adjusting the way they drape over Pidge’s frame. A ruffle neatened here, a bow tightened there…

Pidge flails her arms, the long, trailing sleeves flapping with them. “How am I even going to use the bathroom in this dress without suffering an ordeal?” Her fingers clutch at the layered pleated skirt and lift the too-long hem off the floor. “With all this I can’t even reach my underwear!”

Allura snorts, an amused smile flitting across her face. “Well, it would be an insult not to wear a gift from His Majesty.”

“Just like it would’ve been an insult if we didn’t all come?” Pidge pushes her glasses up her nose - she refuses to take those off on principle - and scowls at her reflection and considers that at least watching her dress light up the dance floor might be entertaining.

“Exactly!” Allura confirms brightly. “Although…Pidge, you’re not the most…diplomatic of us.”

Pidge raises an eyebrow, a part of her unsurprised at the direction this conversation took. “So I’ll take care not to step on his toes if he asks me to dance?” Not that she wants to dance with him; she’d sooner ask Keith to spin her around, convince Coran to lead her in a mind-bogglingly energetic Altean two-step, team up with Hunk to pinpoint Barsinian scientists and learn from their drunken wisdom…

Laugh with Lance while he drags her into his people-watching, blush when he lets slip a sincere compliment for her, sneak away with him to stargaze from a turret while a slow tune below lulls her into a doze…

“That’s a good start,” Allura allows, jerking Pidge from a vivid and embarrassing daydream, “but there’s a little more to it than that. Start by befriending him, or rather letting him befriend you.”

Pidge wrinkles her nose. “I don’t have to let him court me, do I?”

“Of course not!” Allura quickly denies, before backtracking and admitting, “Well, not really. Maybe a little? Just enough to be polite but not enough to make him think you’re romantically inclined towards him.”

Pidge deflates, but it’s difficult to tell she’s slouching with the puffy balloons that encompass her shoulders. “That sounds really…not doable.”

“It’s a rather fine line, to be sure,” Allura concedes with a grimace. But she brightens, clasping her hands, and says, “Just pretend you’re me when Lance was a bit more…insufferable.”

Pidge snorts, half-amused and half-irritated by the reminder. “So you’re saying you want me to…express as little interest in possible?”

“Oh, no, please be interested in what he says!” Allura tells her. “Just don’t be interested in him.”

Pidge stares at her, no less confused about her intent than when they first broached the topic, but shrugs and says, “Okay…I’m a genius”—though not with people—”so how hard can it really be?”

***

Pidge literally glows on the arm of the king of Barsina.

Threads of colored light line the most bizarre dress Lance has ever laid eyes on, illuminating her in a rainbow. She stares down at herself more than at her escort, and he recognizes the fascination in her wide-eyed gaze.

And her lack of interest in King Thurar soothes the jealousy sitting hotly in his stomach, though it fails to recede entirely.

Not until Pidge parts from King Thurar and makes a beeline for where he stands with Keith and Hunk.

“Nice dress,” Keith comments dryly.

Pidge rolls her eyes at him but mumbles her thanks when Hunk passes her a drink. She pushes the streamer falling over her shoulder away from her face and sips. “What have you been up to?”

“Hunk danced with Minister Lirnem,” Keith offers with a snicker.

“She’s a very spry dancer for her age,” Hunk says diplomatically.

Lance leans against their table and raises an eyebrow at him before flashing a smirk at Pidge. “She took him for a spin when she figured out he didn’t know any Barsinian dances.”

Pidge laughs and rests a consoling hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” she says. “Barsinian dancing seems very…”

Lance’s gaze roves over the couples and groups milling about on the dance floor in time with a bouncy, syncopated beat. Their motions are jerky rather than smooth, and he observes, “It looks kind of like how you’d expect a frog dancing to look.”

Pidge laughs, Keith’s eyes widen, and Hunk exclaims, “What if someone hears you and thinks you insulted them?”

“Please”—Lance snorts even as an uneasiness settles into him and his eyes dart around the busy ballroom—”they call frogs ‘grofs’ here, so they won’t think that.”

“But everyone’s dressed so…shiny.” Keith nods towards a couple of young Barsinian nobles taking a picture together with a sleek device, its bulb flashing in the ballroom’s low light.

Barsinian clothes seems to have wires embroidered into them, wires that glow when—

“As far as I can tell, there’s something in the fabric that converts kinetic energy into electricity to ignite the circuitry,” Pidge explains without prompting. She picks at a wire glowing pink in the fitted bodice of her dress. “It’s a really interesting effect and use for circuitry but it doesn’t seem to serve any purpose beside the aesthetic.”

“Makes you shine like a star though,” Lance lets slip without thought. When Hunk’s and Keith’s stunned eyes land on him, his cheeks burn with heat and he adds, “Y-you and everyone—”

“The circuitry is a symbol.” Minister Lirnem joins them without announcing herself, a glass clutched in her webbed fingers and her own modest gown glowing a faint blue - though not with quite so much embroidery as Pidge’s. “It is a mark of status: the more intricate the embroidery, the more colors your clothes display, the higher your rank at court.” Her slitted eyes scan Pidge from head to toe. “Aliens are not generally permitted our symbolic embroidery, however, so I can only suspect what His Majesty’s plans are concerning you, Green Paladin.”

Lance’s blood runs cold at some implication in Minister Lirnem’s voice. “What do you mean?” he wonders, his feet carrying him a few steps closer to Pidge.

“It is not for a loyal subject of His Majesty to divulge what are only educated guesses,” Minister Lirnem recites. She sips her drink and tells Pidge, “Watch yourself around him, Green Paladin. He may be king, but he is still only barely of age and subject to the same impetuousness as any other youth.” Her gaze flicks to Lance, a slight smile on her lips, before gliding away from them in a very un-frog-like manner.

“Pidge,” Lance says carefully as he watches her go, “what do you think the king—”

But Pidge doesn’t seem to notice his words, not while she rolls up her very long sleeves so that it bunches up just over her wrists. “Quiznak, those are annoying,” she grumbles, pushing hair away from her face.

Light glints off gold, and Lance says, “Hey, are you wearing the necklace I got you as a bracelet?”

Pidge jumps, startled, and color fills her cheeks. She raises her wrist, her eyes widened as if shocked to find a gold chain wound around it, and admits, “It doesn’t go with this dress but I still wanted to wear it.”

“O-oh.” Lance rubs the back of his neck, suddenly awkward when he realizes that Hunk and Keith made themselves scarce without him noticing.

But Pidge seems unbothered as she slides the necklace off her wrist and says, “You know what? I don’t care if it doesn’t match.” She holds it out to him.

Lance extends an arm and watches it pool in his palm. “Wait, you’re not giving it back, are you?” Something like panic grips him - he remembers how brightly Pidge smiled when he gave it to her, how she told him he shouldn’t have and that she loved it all in the same breath, his chest warm and his face warmer after she flung her arms around his neck.

“N-no!” Pidge quickly reassures him. “I just…need your help putting it on.” She pushes her trailing headdress over her shoulder and turns her back to him.

A smile pushes at his lips as he loops it around her neck and clasps it in place. When she faces him again, she touches the glittering green charm that somehow looks brighter than all the ignited circuitry woven into her dress.

She takes his breath away without trying, simply standing there in a gaudy gown with a smile on her face and a light flush high in her cheeks.

Without a word and without a falter in her grin, Pidge’s fingers wrap around his wrist. He happily follows, his heart pounding a syncopated beat alongside a tune that manages to be half-jazz and half-baroque.

They don’t bother keeping time as they slip into their own little dance, Pidge’s hands holding tightly to his, their arms swinging like two kids dancing at a wedding.

When Lance spins her around, the hem of her skirt lifts and billows around her, and she steps back towards him laughing. “This more fun than jousting from a grof?” she wonders.

“Dancing with you is more fun than almost anything else I can think of,” he tells her…another sentiment so honest he has to wonder if the punch he’s been drinking has an intoxicant in it after all.

Pidge raises an eyebrow, managing to look smug despite her blush. “Almost?”

“Well…playing Killbot with you is a contender,” Lance admits, “even when you’re kicking my butt.”

She snorts and smirks. “I know of something you’re better than me at.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Jousting.”

Lance blinks, his fingers tightening around hers. “Why do you say that?”

“You want to do something…daring?” Pidge says, mischief sparking in her eyes. “The joust did look like fun the other day—”

“I lost count of the number of times I fell off my quiznaking grof!” Lance retorts.

“—and I kind of want to try now. And you can give me a few pointers!” She grins right before it falters. “I’d have to change first though…can’t really ride a grof in this glow-in-the-dark circus tent I’m wearing.”

“You do look…interesting in that dress,” Lance says, “but still beautiful.”

Pidge laughs, rolling her eyes. “I know I look silly,” she says, “even if Coran is convinced it’s the height of fashion here.” She tosses her head, the streamer hanging from her bun and from that quiznaking wreath fluttering around her shoulders.

Lance meets her warm brown eyes, his heart skipping a beat. “Pidge, you’d look beautiful wearing a plastic black trash bag.”

And she would; nothing can obscure the spark in her gaze or the warmth in her smile or the heat of her touch on his skin and his heart.

Her eyes widen, the blush in her cheeks spreading, and she stutters, “Lance, y-you don’t look too—”

“May I cut in?”

No, Lance only just keeps himself from snapping. He forces his reflexively annoyed expression into something more neutral while he and a wide-eyed Pidge face King Thurar.

He looks at Pidge, a hesitant smile on his thin frog-like mouth, a webbed hand extended in invitation towards her. “What sort of escort would I be if I did not insist on one dance?”

Pidge clears her throat and smiles. “Sure,” she says simply. “I would like that.” But her grin falters when her eyes meet Lance’s. “Are you okay with that, Lance?”

His mouth dries at her question, at a hidden subtext that he’s not sure she means. Because no, he’s not okay with it at all, with this prospective Coalition leader putting the moves on a girl who Lance has feelings for.

(Again.)

He shrugs and feigns a nonchalance he doesn’t feel, not with jealousy writhing in his stomach and his chest tightening as he reluctantly lets Pidge go. “Doesn’t have anything to do with me,” Lance tells her.

Pidge frowns, gaze drifting down as she mutters, “I guess not…” To King Thurar, she says in a far brighter voice, “Lead the way. I don’t know your dances…”

She takes the king’s hand, and Lance watches them walk away, his feet frozen to the floor while Pidge’s dress - shining brighter than when she first entered the ballroom - trails behind them.

He notes with some satisfaction that King Thurar is shorter than him, the top of Pidge’s head - minus her deflating bun and the streamer hanging from it - reaching his flat nose…but his childish glee at that disappears as he realizes it puts them closer to eye level with each other.

Lance finds distraction in chatting up strangers, both other aliens and Barsinians. He lets a probably middle-aged Barsinian lady teach him to dance in their style, but when her webbed fingers pinch his backside in a way he’s pretty sure isn’t one of the steps, he takes his leave of her.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Keith observes when Lance joins him and Hunk on a well-cultivated terrace. Vines laden with fleshy leaves grow along Tolemac Castle’s walls, the green dotted with a rainbow of flowers. And below the terrace in a sprawling and swampy garden is a pond illuminated by a light that changes color and makes the water glow.

It’s pretty, but he can’t appreciate it with his heart heavy and a gloomy cloud hanging over his head.

Lance leans against the railing, affording himself a good view of most of the ballroom. “I’m having a blast.” His gaze rovers over the dancers and other attendees, searching for just one, but—

He straightens, eyes widening and heart skipping a beat in alarm. “Where’s Pidge?” he wonders in as idle a voice as he can manage.

Hunk’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “We saw her leaving the ballroom with the king. Why?” He smirks and says, “You jealous?”

“No!” Lance crosses his arms and scowls at the floor even as his foot taps an impatient beat against the shining tile floor, urging him into some kind of action.

Pidge missing with King Thurar? The same king that gave her a crown and sent her a dress and asked her to dance?

Well…if Pidge went willingly, who’s Lance to stand in the way?

But it’s also the same king who was all too happy to knock him - and Keith - from the back of a grof more than once…

Mind made up, Lance stalks back towards the ballroom and announces, “I’m going to explore the castle.”

***

The entire time Pidge dances with King Thurar, her mind analyzes every word out of Lance’s mouth. Beautiful, he called her, despite her ludicrous dress evoking Las Vegas.

All she managed to try to say in return was, You don’t look too bad yourself. Never mind that the red and blue Altean tunic he wears makes his shoulders look broader and the sleeves are tight enough she can see the definition in his arms and—

She can’t help sneaking glances at him while she half-listens to the king explaining his culture and, for some reason, the structure of Barsina’s government, can’t help the irritation pricking her when she spots him dancing with someone else.

Well, she can’t keep him from enjoying himself! Especially not after he showed barely any hesitation when King Thurar interrupted them.

It still hurts when a pathetic part of her wishes Lance is jealous.

But she follows Allura’s advice as best as she can, pretending Barsinian civics interests her and answering what few questions King Thurar asks her about herself.

After the second dance, when Pidge wants nothing more than to slip away and find her friends, he comments, “Your necklace is…pretty.”

Pidge’s eyes widen in surprise - she almost forgot she wore any jewelry - as she grasps the pendant sitting over her collarbone. “Thank you,” she says. “It was a gift.”

“It’s not one I sent with the dress,” King Thurar says.

She bites back a sarcastic response and instead contents herself with a nod. “A friend gave it to me.”

The king frowns. “The Red Paladin?” he guesses. “The one you were dancing with?”

An absurd blush warms Pidge’s cheeks, the necklace’s chain smooth and cool against her fingertips and a silly smile fighting its way onto her face. “Yes, that’s him.”

But her smile falters as soon as the words leave her mouth when she remembers how…apathetic Lance seemed when she left.

King Thurar doesn’t reply immediately, instead steering her towards the main section of Tolemac Castle. And the longer the silence stretches, filled only by the fading music playing behind them and the chattering of other guests, the longer Pidge worries she said something wrong.

It wasn’t like she lied!

Her heart races with panic, mind buzzing with concerns that she doomed Voltron’s prospects with Barsina and doomed her opportunity to examine what technology they conceal under a veil of mystery and rumors.

Sure, the methods they engineer structures in a marsh are interesting enough, but they won’t help the Coalition.

“You have a reputation among the Coalition, Green Paladin,” King Thurar says, finally breaking the silence as they step into a green-carpeted and well-lit hallway.

Pidge only smiles, unsure how to respond. Of course she does? She’s a quiznaking Paladin of Voltron and a bright mind!

Or she can try…reciprocating?

Pidge hopes her voice doesn’t crack when she says, “Barsina has a reputation too, Your Majesty. I can’t count the number of rumors I’ve heard that your scientists are on the brink of inventing near-instantaneous travel.”

Doors line the walls every few paces, and as they wander deeper, panels flare into life beside them. Security panels, Pidge guesses; whatever lies behind those doors is not for anyone to access.

“My scientists?” King Thurar chuckles as he pauses before such a door and presses all five fingers to the security panel. “They helped, of course, but much of the work is my own.”

The panel flashes green, scanning whatever passes for fingerprints on a Barsinian hand (for all Pidge knows it’s their webbing that’s “unique” in individuals), before the heavy steel door unlocks with a click.

Thurar enters a code into a keypad underneath the glowing panel. He smiles sheepishly when another lock clicks open and says, “The process to simply unlock the door to my lab is rather…lengthy.”

Pidge smiles without trying, clutching at her dress with sweaty hands and her heartbeat skipping in excitement. “I get it.”

The door swings open after a few more layers of security - including a retinal scan on her to ascertain she’s not a shapeshifting alien - and King Thurar stands aside and gestures her in. “We do not have the same intuition with technology as the people of Olkarion, but Barsina is accomplished and I dare to think you, Green Paladin, will appreciate that more than your less scientifically minded fellow Paladins.”

Pidge wonders if she imagines the insult in his voice - even Hunk? - but the laboratory beyond the door makes every retort she can think of fall away, forgotten.

Lasers and monitors, long-distance communication arrays, robots operating all the machinery taking measurements of atmospheric readings and signals arriving from space, and—

“Why have I not seen any robots anywhere else?” Pidge asks.

King Thurar follows her into the lab, the door shutting behind him and locking with a few clicks, and appraises the space. He crosses his arms and explains, “Robotics is a field that the less scientifically inclined fear - Barsinians are a superstitious folk - and robots are so poorly understood and the average Barsinian fears that one can one day replace him.”

Pidge barely hears him, a cylinder lying horizontal to the floor catching her attention. “Is that a particle accelerator?” she blurts. She picks up the hem of her skirt and darts in its direction, eyes wide as she examines every centimeter of it that she can reach. “Where do you hold the magnets?”

The king eyes her with obvious amusement as he points them out.

“What do you use this for? This seems like a very…multidisciplinary lab.” Pidge raises an eyebrow as she gazes around the room.

“Well…we are searching for a way to travel across the universe almost instantaneously without using something as unstable as a wormhole.”

Air catches in her lungs, and she breathes, “And?”

When King Thurar smiles widest, he looks more like a frog than a human, but it doesn’t unnerve her. Pidge all but trembles with excitement as he leads her in a different direction, towards a low doorway tucked into a corner.

He ducks through it, Pidge on his heels, and into a more cavernous room empty of equipment except for a long cylindrical metal object lined with slits for aeration, a monitor at one end with text scrawling across it.

“This is the prototype for our improbability engine.”

Pidge turns sharply towards the king. “Your…?”

“Alternative to a wormhole,” he confirms with a nod. “We are attempting to scale it up as this one is only large enough for a small pod - we tested it over a distance of a few light-years almost a phoeb ago - but I fear that without input from Olkari scientists we will not get far.” He sighs and glances at her. “We have not heard from them in a very long time, not since before Emperor Zarkon fell, but—”

“They’re members of the Coalition,” Pidge reassures him, grinning. “They were…occupied by a Galra general for a while, but Voltron liberated them and Olkarion is now the center of the Coalition.”

King Thurar’s slitted eyes widen, the yellow practically glowing with an excited spark. And Pidge, caught up in the excitement of a project, laughs.

She loses track of how much time she spends poring over every journal - the Barsinian script translated into Altean, far more familiar to her, with the wrist computer she wears under her obnoxiously billowing sleeves - and every bit of tech King Thurar allows her access to. But she knows it’s nothing near enough to even begin to scratch the surface of all there is to learn here.

“I could spend my whole life in these labs, tinkering and reading and experimenting, and still not unlock all your secrets!”

King Thurar meets her eyes, and for some reason it sends a shiver down her spine. “Pidge,” he says in a low voice, the use of her name rather than a title freezing her to the spot, “if I may be so familiar, you are an exceptional being.” His fingers chill her skin when he takes her hand, the delicate webbing almost slimy.

“Y-your Majesty,” she says, wincing at her stutter, “you’re very…nice.”

“You are too modest, Pidge,” he tells her.

She smiles, because she’s not sure what else to do with his hand clutching hers and his eyes roving over her face and her skin crawling with discomfort and realization rooting her to the spot. “No one’s ever said that about me,” she says, unsure what else to say.

Quiznak, she assumed King Thurar held some superficial interest in her, between the stupid wreath and the absurd dress, but now it feels too real and too much.

And nothing she wants.

But Pidge doesn’t know how to reject him without risking offending him, not when the Coalition needs an alliance with the planet he rules, especially now that she’s seen what Barsina has to offer with her own eyes.

(Allura didn’t prepare her for this.)

Pidge never fears speaking her mind…but she’s no longer naive enough not to understand her words have consequences.

The fact that they’re alone hits her when King Thurar’s thin lips brush her knuckles.

Her heart pounds as she wrenches her fingers from his grip and takes a step back, her hand hovering over the wrist computer hidden under her sleeve. “I-I think I’d like to go back to the ball,” Pidge says as steadily as she can. “I…want to have a bit more fun before we leave.” She forces a grin that feels more like a grimace onto her face. “You understand, Your Majesty, right?”

The king frowns, his eyes narrowing and face flushing green. For a beat Pidge fears he’ll refuse - and if he does she’s not sure she’ll remember the way back without wandering or taking the time to hack Tolemac Castle’s mainframe for the floor plan - but to her relief he sighs and says, “Of course, Green Paladin. Allow me to escort you back.”

***

Lance gives up on wandering Tolemac Castle’s halls searching for Pidge and King Thurar when yet another armed guard bars his path down a spiraling set of stairs.

“You hiding Emperor Zarkon in the basement?” he can’t help quipping - the joke at least controls his mounting irritation and concern.

He lost track of how long Pidge and the king have been gone, and with the ball winding down and guests leaving and Keith failing to conceal his yawns and Coran drunkenly sashaying with every elderly Barsinian woman - and at least a few men - that doesn’t mind an inebriated partner, Allura is sure to call it a night within the varga.

But Pidge is still missing.

At some point Lance’s fuming jealousy gave way to a worry that makes his mind buzz and his heart race.

It's too easy to picture what happens when two people disappear together during a party, even in an otherwise prim medieval-like society where jousting is a popular spectator sport, and if anyone knows what hiding spots are in a grand castle like this, it'll be the king that calls it home.

But there's no way Pidge is actually interested in that with him...right?

Amid his second-guessing, Lance's feet carry him back to the ballroom's wide entrance. But a couple blocks his path, looking in the middle of a moment, when the Barsinian man bends over the woman's hand to kiss it.

Wait...Lance recognizes that dimly glowing monstrosity of a dress.

Pidge?

Watching King Thurar kiss Pidge's hand shocks his system, makes his blood run cold and his chest tighten with a too-familiar ache. And because he's too much of a masochist to tear his eyes away, he sees a slight and smug smirk twisting the king's lips.

Pidge wrenches her hand from his grip and walks past him, and if she says anything it's too soft for Lance to hear.

Something in Pidge's stiff demeanor as she leaves - and something in King Thurar's obviously displeased scowl - eases some of the hot jealousy simmering just under Lance's skin.

He has nothing to worry about, does he? Well, not that it's any of his concern, he forces himself to remember.

Lance plasters a polite smile onto his face as he approaches the entrance and King Thurar standing in his path. "Nice party you're throwing," he says mildly.

His icy glare - and frogs are cold-blooded, aren't they? Pidge would know better than him - falls on Lance as he responds, "Only the best for the Paladins of Voltron. Tell P—your Green Paladin that."

Lance raises an eyebrow, confused...and not a little irritated at King Thurar almost using Pidge's name, like he wishes to violate the formality he maintains with them. And he's been around enough diplomatic shindigs to know that any kind of breach in formality isn't usually without an ulterior motive.

He smooths the collar of his tunic and says, "Well, if you'll excuse me, Your Majesty, I'll go do that right now."

He easily locates Pidge standing beside the same table as the rest of their team. Keith's forehead rests against the surface - Lance wonders if he passed out - and Hunk's hand touches his back. Allura sits beside him, maintaining a tight grip on a red-faced Coran.

Pidge speaks animatedly as he approaches, the light in her eyes far brighter than the lights in her dress. The sight - her excitement - warms his heart, especially when he catches her words.

"The rumors are true, Hunk!" she exclaims, her hands flailing. "It's not teleportation - I guess that's still the stuff of cosmic wolves and science fiction - but it is near-instantaneous, and all the Coalition and Barsina need is to forge an alliance so we can share our ideas!"

Allura claps her hands, a gleeful smile alighting her face. "That's wonderful, Pidge! You've done well with His Majesty!"

Lance frowns at that. "What do you mean?"

Pidge spins around, her eyes widening when they land on him. "Lance? Where were you?"

He blinks, startled, while his cheeks burn. "Uh...here and there," he tells her, unwilling to mention that he tried to spy on her with King Thurar.

Hunk's hand raises in greeting, an awful and teasing smirk tugging at his lips. "Pidge has been using her feminine wiles to get information from the king."

"Hunk!" Pidge hisses, a scowl on her face as it darkens.

Lance's stomach twists into unpleasant knots; earlier today she hadn't seemed bothered by Hunk's teasing...

What changed?

"While I would not have said it as Hunk did," Allura says diplomatically, though she rolls her eyes, "Pidge has learned much thanks to His Majesty's interest in her."

"Oh," Lance says lamely. "That's...great."

Pidge fidgets with the pendant dangling from her neck, obviously avoiding his gaze when she says, “Yeah, it’s very helpful.”

“His Majesty seems it,” he retorts, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice, not while an image of the king kissing Pidge’s hand replays in his mind. ”Maybe he’ll even give you the designs if you kiss him and turn him back into a prince.”

Lance regrets the words as soon as they fall from his lips.

Allura, for her part, looks confused, but Hunk’s jaw drops in shock. Even Keith, thought dead to the universe, sleepily mumbles, “Lance is being an idiot again isn’t he…”

Pidge’s glare pins him and makes him squirm, shame heavy in his gut at what he implied - about the king, sure, but mostly about her.

His eyes bug, and he raises his hands and blurts, “I’m sorry.”

She crosses her arms, her glower not faltering though it falls to the floor. “You should be.”

“Pidge, I—”

“I don’t like him, okay?” she says, her gaze flitting from Hunk and Allura before landing on Lance. “And I don’t want to either. And it’s not my fault he seems to like me.” She presses her fingers into her eyes before adding, “He’s not even close to my first choice…”

Pidge turns on her heel and flees, her skirts rising around her and sleeves streaming in her wake. The dress shines brighter the further she runs, but even that fades once she disappears onto the terrace.

Just like that, Lance is sure something happened between Pidge and King Thurar before he spotted them, and the thought infuriates him.

But guilt that his words incited this roots him to the spot.

He pulls a chair away from the table…or tries to. “What the quiznak?” He peeks under the lacy tablecloth, his eyes narrowing at Keith’s ankles locked around the chair’s legs. “What’s your problem, Keith? Aren’t you supposed to be napping?”

Keith raises a hand - without lifting his head - and points in Pidge’s direction. “Go fix it,” he says, voice muffled. “As the Black Paladin, I command you.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Lance grumbles even while he turns and marches through the emptying dance floor and towards the terrace.

Some part of him fears he won’t find her, that all he’ll come across will be a rope made from scraps of her busy dress tied to the balcony railing and trailing down into the gardens below.

But she stands much in the same place he had earlier, gazing up at the castle’s turrets with red eyes.

Lance swallows his apprehension and says, “Pidge.”

“I know you didn’t mean it,” she says quickly, easily, more steadily than he expected. She crosses her arms, her eyes slipping past him. “You just…I don’t know.” A heavy sigh escapes her, and she straightens from her slouch.

Lance fights the urge to reach for her, wanting to comfort her through touch as much as through his words.

Words…

He has confirmation that there’s no reason for his jealousy - although he already knew it’s undeserved - so maybe now is the time to tell her, to speak the feelings always brimming under the surface and threatening to spill from his tongue.

It’s not how he pictured a potential confession, with Pidge upset about something he said and no white moon shining overhead and her wearing an outfit Liberace wouldn’t be caught dead (or alive) in, but he knows with creeping certainty it has to be done.

His heart races, but resolve fills him as he admits, “I saw the king kissing your hand.”

Pidge inhales sharply, finally looking at him with wide eyes. “A-and?”

“Did something…happen?” Lance wonders. “Did he do something when you were—”

“N-not exactly, no,” Pidge cuts him off. But she holds herself stiffly and adds, “I just…didn’t like the way he looked at me.”

Lance’s breath catches in his throat, and he reconsiders. Maybe now isn’t the best time after all, maybe he should wait till they’ve left Barsina behind, maybe—

“D-do you like the way I look at you?”

Maybe his mouth has other ideas.

Her breath hitches, arms falling to her sides and eyes widening in shock. “H-how should I…interpret how you look at me?” she challenges, tilting her head back.

Lance steps towards her, and he dares to take her hand.

His heart sings when her fingers tighten around his, when her gaze and how close her flushed face is to his draw him in. Her shallow breath warms his chin, something about it sharpening every last sense, her brown eyes expectant and…hopeful.

He cups her cheek with his other hand and murmurs, “Katie—”

Something falls with a thunk at Lance’s feet, cutting him off. He spins around, reflexively reaching for a bayard he’s not carrying and pushing Pidge behind him even as she does the same.

All he spots is King Thurar, a scowl on his face, and a few members of his court and their team. A wide-eyed Minister Lirnem hovers over his shoulder, but she shoots a glance at Allura, whose gaze locks onto the ground near him.

Lance thinks to look down, confusion filling him at the sight of a gauntlet from a suit of Barsinian armor. “What the—”

King Thurar points at him. “You, Red Paladin, have something I want.”

Lance’s jaw flaps uselessly, and he presses a finger to his chest, scarcely believing what’s happening. “W-what?”

Pidge echoes the sentiment, but her hand grips his, grounding him.

“I lay a formal challenge at your feet before members of my court,” the king announces.

“Ch-challenge for what?” Lance demands. “W-what did I ever do to you?”

King Thurar ignores his question, his eyes slipping past him…towards Pidge. “I challenge you for the Green Paladin’s affections and her un-webbed hand in marriage.”

“What?” Pidge blurts. “You can’t—”

But Lance doesn’t bother thinking, not with a fresh wave of anger making his blood run hot.

“You’re on, Your Majesty.”

Continue to Chapter Three

#plance #pidgance #lidge #flirtyrobot #pidge's dress inspired by my chaotic and rebellious streak #as in...i pictured it as obnoxious as possible #voltron #reem writes fic

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v01d-ch1ld · 6 years

Text

If Bitterness is My Cancer, Fire is My Cure

If Bitterness Is My Cancer, Fire Is My Cure

Sirens could be heard in the distance, the flames licking the sky, shrapnel everywhere it was glorious! The night was ablaze with fire and screams, and the aching in her head finally eased. The voice was pleased with the current spectacle and Rebecca was in no position to deny it anything if she wanted to maintain basic mental faculties. Her father was laughing just about as loud as she was as she danced while singing “Funhouse” by P!nk. People were running in all directions, cars were crashed in the middle of the road, and another explosion rang through the Gotham night. The violence inspired a new fit of giggles from Joker, Harley, and the Jester. Her new name sealed her fate. She smiled her wider than normal smile and leered at the frightened civilians. She was enjoying this. She was enjoying this. The adrenaline coursed through her veins lighting up her senses, making everything brighter and sharper than before.

Flames licked at what was her old apartment. She was done with that life and this was the last step in becoming what she was meant to be: free. Her feelings were shallow, and she could only keep up the happy face for so long. Laughter turned to open tears as she broke down inside, the last fragile remnants of her sanity being severely taxed. That was her life. She was happy and now she can never have it back. A part of her was mourning while the other part was laughing. On her knees, she cried in the center of the chaos around her. The Joker looked on his protégé without emotion as she shed the last of her normalcy down her pale cheeks. He felt almost nothing looking on at the beast that he created mourn the civility it once had. Bitterness was raging inside his heart for the life he left behind, the family he was denied, the love that left him, the child that denounced him, and the God that forsook him. He felt no pity toward the wayward monster crying in the street, only happiness because he took back something that he had lost. She was like a child’s toy to him.

It had almost been two years since Rebecca went missing and, on this night, she died. There would be no funeral procession, no priest, no coffin, and no grave. She died with the exhalation of breath and smoke into the sky and flames burning her a funeral pyre. From the ashes, came a new being, the Jester a creature of pure pain and malice. There was no sympathy, no feeling, just emptiness, and self-satisfaction. Jester stood up, laughing once more, and got another bomb threw it into another building and howled when it blew, sending debris and broken burned bodies everywhere.

“Gotham is going to burn tonight!” She shrieked, twirling around. Joker looked on at the spectacle of the monster he created revealing in her newfound power of lawlessness and chaos. He was almost proud in a way.

Fire trucks came rushing down the streets, screaming along with them were police sirens. On the other side of Gotham Batman was getting a police signal. Arson in the Narrows. He rolled his eyes and turned back to the Bat Computer because he thought the fire department could handle it, but he kept it on in case things complicated themselves. Then the words “Joker” “girl” “psychopath” “advanced civilian casualties”, and “bombs” came in through the transmission and he was set on his feet hard staring the police radio. By now, the Bat signal was up for sure. Damian was out of town with the Titans and had been for weeks. Tim came down the elevator in costume already, but without his mask.

Tim looked like he hadn’t slept in a century, which was close to the truth. He grabbed his gauntlets, mask, and bo staff from his corner of the cave. After him, Nightwing came down without a word. Things were still tense between them and Bruce, but Dick was at least allowed back in Gotham after Rebecca had been pronounced dead. Dick got on his bike and left without a word. Tim got in the Batmobile proceeded to tap on his wrist computer. Bruce sighed pulled down his cowl and got in the driver’s seat, tearing rubber after Dick. Sometime between the mansion and the Narrows another motorcycle made up the procession to the crime scene.

Jason had been relatively missing except for a few bloodbaths in the last few months but he sped behind the Batmobile and popped a wheelie. The Red Hood looked like he meant business, more guns on him than usual and it looked as though he had procured some new toys. The plumes of black smoke guiding them to where Jester was having her debut bash.

At the scene of the crime, the police and Jester and Joker plus their goons were in what was basically a small war. Joker gas was flying over cars and tear gas came flying back. Volleys of bullets were being exchanged between officers behind riot shields and Joker gang behind cars with gas masks on. Jester was shooting with the advanced precision the tutelage of Deadshot can get you. Her .50 caliber custom purple and green pistols were tearing through the small blockade of officers. Joker was lobbing gas grenades and calculating an escape route, Harley was shooting her bazooka, creating a diversion for Joker to sort a way out of this. The many henchmen were trying to stay alive and watch for the Bat. Officers were unable to get back up due to Joker and company blocking the only route that it could come from due to the wreckage behind them, and they were also scrambling to keep civilians away from the danger zone. Gordon was in back trying to strategize how they were going to take down the Clown Prince of Crime, his Princess, and his whore.

Jim Gordon wasn’t a fool. He knew that there was no way to put this down without the help of the Bats. He just hoped that they would hurry. More and more property was being damaged and more and more officers were dying with every minute. Suddenly, there he was: Batman and three of the four of his entourage.

“Hello, Commissioner Gordon.” Batman greeted his friend. Nightwing was on top of a police car trying to gauge the enemy, Red Robin was calling Batwoman and Robin for backup and Red Hood was loading his guns with rubber bullets, per his agreement with Batman, and putting his hollow pointe magazines in his pockets for safe keeping.

“Thank the stars you’re here. The Joker came here with Harley and a new girl and they lit the place up and then the new girl began to blow up other buildings in the vicinity. She is just as crazy as Joker and extremely lethal. She has been laughing that horrible laugh all night,” Batman looks over to see Jester in near convulsions laughing as she shoots with deadly accuracy, “They have Joker venom gas grenades as well as bombs and we have been doing all we can just to hold them here.” Batman nods.

Nightwing calls out, Jester just disappeared. Then a bullet comes dangerously close to nailing the Commissioner in the head. Batman tackles him to the ground just as Red Hood uses his helmet’s head’s up display to see that the Jester has taken a sniping position on top of one of the buildings that aren’t burning. Red Hood then runs through the burning cars and wreckage to find a fire escape, leaving the others to deal with the Joker and Harley Quinn. This new chick was good. He needed to know how good if he was going to kill her. Switching to his hollow bullets her made his way up the fire escape of a building that was adjacent to the one that Jester was firing from. Making it to the roof he takes aim and fires, but she moves right as he takes the shot, the bullet missing by millimeters. She takes out her .50 caliber pistols loaded with mercury charge bullets. Of the two the mercury charge was the more lethal. Both had exploding bullets, but the mercury fulminate acted like a crystal of pure nitro in the center of the bullet, actually exploding inside the body instead of shattering causing about double the damage of a normal hollow bullet. Jason figured this out when he dodged and the ac unit behind him imploded, almost blowing him clear off the ledge.

“Hey! You have good aim, but I bet you that I’m better!” Jester called to the vigilante hanging off the side of the roof. He pulled himself up and back on to the roof.

“Trust me, honey, you don’t want to put up that kind of wager with me.” Red Hood barked back.

“You’re all bark and no bite, babe, I’ll have you ragged and bloody in five shots. Bet.” She smirked. Tossing her short hair over her shoulder and unholstering her other pistol from her left shoulder.

“You’re on! But don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s a shame to have to ruin- AGH!” He was cut off by a bullet in the shoulder. The pain was blinding, and he knew that arm was completely out of commission despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins in alarming volume. Switching to his left pistol, he took aim and fired.

“FUCK! That hurt!” A bullet had caught her in the calf of her left leg while she was trying to dodge. She put a bullet into his thigh and hit behind some scaffolding. The bullet was hollow, so she pulled out what she could and prayed that the rest wouldn’t hit her bloodstream for the next ten minutes, otherwise she was fucked.

Thunder cracked, and the rain came down in sheets. Drenched and irritated, Red Hood leaped onto Jester’s roof. He walked over to where she ducked and found nothing. Two gunshots, two bullets in his torso. Whipping around at speeds not good for his now busted ribs, he saw only a pair of high heels disappear behind a ventilation unit.

“One shot left, sweetheart,” he looked around,” and I know that you won’t do it!”

“Bet,” came from behind his ear before blinding pain and the sound of something shattering. His helmet lay broken on the rooftop. She had hit the butt of her gun right into the crown of his head. Dizzy, he looked around with his gun cocked hoping to get another shot in before he had to retreat. His legs were swept from under him and he looked up to see her with a gun to his forehead. Jason was cocky and looked her straight in the face. He wasn’t scared of death.

Rebecca was in shock. Jason. Jason. The Red Hood was Jason Todd. Memories painfully burst in her brain, overwhelming her. She screamed and collapsed as her head felt like someone was spreading acid into her neural synapses. Curling into the fetal position she started to wail like someone going through the worst torture possible. For her, it was. She had just tried to kill the last ground she had to stand on. Jester in her brain was elated but she was horrified. She had just tried to kill the last thing she had to love in this world. She was going to go stalk him tonight as she had been for weeks. Just to make sure he was okay. But now she could only scream as memories buried under a year of torture came warring to the surface.

Jason had no idea what to do. He hadn’t even touched her, and she was screaming her head off. He was pretty sure she was crying. His leg collapsed under him from blood loss, and from this vantage point, he could actually see her face up close. Through the ugly pallor and the dark circles around her eyes and the black lips, he could still see her. Rebecca. No. After all the Joker had done he still was always able to top himself. He made normal criminals look like misdemeanor offenders. This took child abuse to a whole new level. Jason swore.

“This has to be a trick.” He said to himself

“It isn’t,” said that horrible voice in the back of his head. It was right no matter what he had found in his years of vigilantism.

“Jason! H-help me.” Her voice came weakly through the tears. She curled in on herself tighter. There was no mistaking it. It was her in the flesh.

“I will. I promise.” He picked himself up off the flooded roof and looked down at the pool of bloody water surrounding them. It looked like a murder scene. He hooked a grapple onto the other roof and swung down, leaving her up there to bleed.

Jason collapsed on top of the Batmobile. Harley Quinn was inside and unconscious. In a grand show of endurance, he peeled himself up off the hood and limped over to where Dick was ducking from bullets.

“Dick.” He called softly. It was forbidden to use each other’s real names while they were in costume per Bruce’s rules, but he figured now was a good time to bend the rules a little.

“What happened to you?” Dick looked concerned for his little brother. He was bleeding through four bullet holes and there was a steady stream of blood coming from his mouth.

“I-I found her. Rebecca.” He gasped out before he was forcibly hunched over in a coughing fit. “Jester s-she is Becca. I shot her. She’s up on the roof.”

Dick was flabbergasted. Everyone thought she had been dead for months. It had been two years since she went missing. He and the others had mourned for her. Now he finds out she is alive and bleeding on a roof. He nods to Jason and grapples up to the roof, avoiding bullets from all sides on his way up to rescue his little sister.

Jason chuckled to himself. His life was such a clusterfuck. Smiling, he heard Tim calling to him as he passed out.

Tags: @nxttime @dcuniversefanatic @dcdweeb @ravennightingaleandavatempus

#batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #robin #bruce wayne #harley quinn #oc #batman #red hood #red robin #nightwing #angst

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 7 years

Text

My Bloody Sweetheart (Part 4 (Final))

Summary: The reader is safe thanks to Dean...she thinks...

My Bloody Sweetheart Masterlist

Pairing: Demon!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,900ish

Warnings: language, violence

A/N: Demon Dean, you’re something alright...

It’d been nearly a day since you got out of Little Gorge, not sure if Dean was dead, caught, alive or what. All you knew was his note in the backpack said you’d be safe at those coordinates so that’s where you went, in the middle of nowhere Kansas, knocking on a big black door, your blade ready to go just in case.

You saw the door open tentatively, a gun in the person’s hand quickly get hidden behind their back.

“Are you Sam?” you asked, taking in the man’s face, recognizing his eyes the most. “Sam Winchester?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” said Sam, looking around and then down at you. “You dated Dean in high school.”

“This is nuts but...Dean sent me here. Bad stuff is going down in Little Gorge. I don’t even know if he’s alive anymore. You got to help me,” you said. Sam looked you up and down again, tilting his head at you. “What?”

“Dean told you to come here,” said Sam. “Dean did?”

“Yes,” you said. “He’s a uh...a demon.”

“I know that,” said Sam, opening the door wider and pulling you inside. “I tried to cure him a few months back. He nearly killed me before he escaped.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Dean I know,” you said. Sam went down a set of stairs, you on his tail as he spread his arms out at the tables in front of you to show you what looked like research.

“Demons lie to get what they want. If he wanted sex or a girlfriend, he’d say whatever he had to,” said Sam.

“But why send me back here? He loves me,” you said, Sam sighing before a grunt caught your attention.

“Left that front door open a bit too long, Sammy,” said Dean, standing at the top of the stairs. “Just needed a little diversion to jam it and let me walk straight in. Thanks for that by the way, kiddo.”

“Dean has been trying to kill me for months, Y/N,” said Sam. “No wonder why I haven’t heard from him lately.”

“I’m back at full demon strength again too, baby bro,” said Dean with a grin. “A little play acting here, a few demon deaths there...an idiot Levi who’d do anything to get his soul back after fucking up...and Y/N? It was like dealing with a little lovestruck puppy dog she was. Tsk tsk. Kiddo, you made it almost too easy.”

“You...what?” you asked, Dean laughing as he walked down a few steps.

“It wasn’t hard when literally everyone around you was lying to you. I wanted to kill Sammy but I couldn’t find a way to get him to come out or to get back in the bunker. Basically I figured trick my old high school sweetheart by scaring her into coming running to Sammy. He knew I talked about you every once in a while, checked up to make sure you were doing okay, that I still cared...he let you walk in like nothing. He’s been so careful too. The rest was just to have fun. Although the sex...that was certainly an unexpected bonus,” said Dean.

“Wow, you love hearing yourself talk, don’t you?” asked Sam, crossing his arms. Dean growled and made his way down the stairs, pushing you aside and straight for Sam.

“Oh, I’ve been dreaming of this day for a long-” he said before coughing.

“I’m sorry,” you said, pulling the demon blade you’d used out of Dean’s back, watching him fall against the table but stay upright for the most part. “Why didn’t it work?”

“He’s not a normal demon,” said Sam, grabbing Dean and pulling him through a hall and another, you right after them until Sam was tossing Dean in a room and chair.

“I wasn’t going to kill you kiddo but guess who made the naughty list,” said Dean, struggling as he was tied down, Sam cuffing him until he stopped moving.

“He’s not going anywhere,” said Sam.

“Is he okay?” you asked, Dean laughing.

“You just tried to kill me and now you care if my boo boo hurts?” he mocked.

“Yeah, it’s probably healing already,” said Sam. “I think she likes you jackass or else she could have got you somewhere far more lethal.”

“Okay, blah blah blah, let’s get going with this cure again so I can get loose, again, and rip you apart this time. Both of you actually,” said Dean, smiling at you.

“Y/N, can you stay here and watch him? I need to go get some things.”

Twelve Hours Later

“How’s he doing?” you asked Sam. He smiled as he pulled Dean’s door shut. “Is his back...”

“It’s perfectly fine. He’s pretty wiped but he wants to apologize to you when you’re ready,” said Sam.

“I’m the one that stabbed him,” you said.

“Dean says there’s more to it than that. About that night whatever that night is,” said Sam. “Give me a shout if you need anything.”

“Thanks Sam,” you said, waiting until he was gone to go into Dean’s room. He was on his bed, quietly staring at the door, wearing a sad smile. “Hey, De.”

“Hi kiddo,” said Dean. You sat down on the edge of the bed, Dean looking away. “Sorry about...using you like that.”

“You said to never trust a demon,” you said, Dean lifting his head cautiously. “I did trust you...just not all the way.”

“I told you about hunting,” said Dean. “I never wanted that for you.”

“I’ve killed a demon and almost got another one. I don’t think I’m too bad at it,” you said, Dean smiling and staring at his lap.

“You don’t have it in you to be mean to me, even when you have every right,” said Dean.

“Demon Dean, I’d be mean to him but you? You’re my, De,” you said, holding his hand. “You’re pretty mean to yourself from what Sam tells me.”

“We’ll call in our hunter friends, clear out the demons that are left in Little Gorge if there are any. There never was one in Colt. He’ll probably take over the Chief position. He was always a good guy. You should go home to him when it’s all said and done,” said Dean.

“Sam warned me you’d try to pull this,” you said. “I might have been living with an imposter the past two weeks but if I start over and think...think about how I felt when I saw you again after all these years...I still want that.”

“It’s not the way it works, Y/N. This life is horribly dangerous and-”

“And blah blah blah, I’m not buying what you’re selling, Dean. Tell me whatever it was you wanted to say about that night at the party and then let’s have our second shot at this,” you said.

“We left town because a demon was on our tail and dad wanted us out of there. He didn’t tell us until much later but that’s why we left. It’s how you got hurt and Levi sold his soul to get you back. He said it back at the house a few nights ago, everything started with me leaving that party,” said Dean.

“It was not your fault or your dad’s that he wanted to keep his kids safe. Levi is the one that pushed too far and got himself in that mess and he’s lucky he got his soul back. For a demon, a tricky bastard one I’ll give you that, you never did anything to me,” you said.

“You’re not going to just leave and go live a normal, quiet life now, are you?” asked Dean.

“Only if you want to come with,” you said. “Or else I’ll get used to this one.”

“It’s not a good idea, Y/N,” said Dean.

“Do you remember when I asked you if you wanted to go to homecoming with me and you said it wasn’t a good idea?” you asked, Dean biting his bottom lip. “You liked me but didn’t think you could have me so I had to prove you wrong.”

“If we do this, we take this slow and I mean slow, kiddo,” he said.

“Whatever you say, De.”

Three Months Later

“Hi, did you find everything you were looking for?” you asked, lifting your head up to find Dean leaning over the counter.

“You’re the only thing I’m looking for,” he said with a smirk. “You’re out of pie. Again.”

“A normal town does not go through as much pie as you do in a week, Dean,” you said. “I’ll make you one this weekend.”

“I want it now though,” he said with a whine.

“Any trouble? Never a good sign when a grown man is whining in a grocery store,” said Colt, coming up behind Dean in line.

“We’re out of pie so he’s upset,” you said, Colt nodding and hiding part of his cart.

“You took the last pie!” said Dean, Colt shrugging. “Some friend you are.”

“Eh, I got crazy Levi off your back to go get better in a nice cushy resort and a recommendation for the academy from the Chief of Little Gorge. That’s pretty good for someone who was a murder suspect three months ago,” said Colt.

“You’re the Chief, dumbass,” said Dean, pushing Colt’s shoulder but moving out of the way. “So...have you heard anything more on my application?”

“You’re not even thirty. You’re still worried about them rejecting it?” asked Colt.

“I’m worried about them rejecting me for having a juvie record and an unstable home life and living on the road most of my adult one. Then there’s my adult record and-”

“Colt,” you said, cocking your head at your friend. “Would you just tell him already?”

“Since you’re applying to the Little Gorge police department specifically and were unfairly harassed by Levi...I may have a little sway in the decision process,” said Colt.

“And...” said Dean, Colt straight faced. “Oh come on, this is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Your acceptance package got delivered this morning. You’ll report to the academy the beginning of next month and six months from now, you’ll be deputy chief of Little Gorge,” said Colt.

“Congratulations, De,” you said, expecting a bigger reaction out of him. He wanted out of hunting after the demon incident but he needed to do something where he helped people. When the opening in town happened and with some persuading of Colt on your end to look past Dean’s record, you knew you’d found the perfect fit for him.

“Thank you Colt,” said Dean, nodding his head. “Really, thank you.”

“You got a job. I got pie. Even trade,” said Colt, your mind going back to work as Dean started to smile wide. “You better not fail anything. I don’t want to be running this town by myself for too long.”

“You got it, Colt,” said Dean. “I’ll do good, promise.”

“It’s your turn to buy pizza tonight,” said Colt, pointing a finger at you.

“It’s always my turn!” you said, getting a laugh out of him as he headed out and you turned your focus on Dean. “You’re going to be a cop.”

“Yeah,” he said, wearing a shy smile. “You knew, didn’t you? That’s why you asked me to swing by.”

“I may have been let on that some good news was coming your way. Sam might also be coming to visit since I told him...yesterday,” you said.

“He’s finally got a big brother he can be proud of,” said Dean.

“He’s always had one of those, De. I’m proud too,” you said. “For how far you’ve come the past few months.”

“I had some help from this girl I fell in love with a while back,” he said, leaning over the counter to kiss you. “My sweetheart.”

“Mm,” you said, smiling when he pulled away. “Give me ten minutes and then we can swing by the diner, bring home some pie for you.”

“Oh, I love you so much,” said Dean. “I’m going to fill up Baby while I’m waiting.”

“Don’t take too long.”

Dean POV

“Shit,” I said, kicking at the tire, huffing as the meter ticked up and up. I’d hoped getting rid of the demon side of me would calm things down. But all I could think of was ripping the guy whistling annoyingly a row over to shreds. This morning it was the neighbor washing the car. Yesterday, the mailman. Even good news wasn’t helping. When Baby finally finished, I shoved my sleeve up, the Mark red and pulsing. “Shit.”

“Something wrong Dean?” asked Colt, walking back to his cruiser to fill up his tank.

“Just you know, gas prices. This thing isn’t exactly fuel efficient,” I said adjusting my shirt, Colt nodding.

“Yeah but it’s awesome. It’s not like you have to drive everywhere in Little Gorge anyways,” said Colt.

“True,” I said, forcing a smile on. “I’ll swing by the station to talk about my training tomorrow.”

“See you around Winchester,” said Colt, turning his attention to his car as I got in Baby and pulled up outside the store to park.

“Relax, relax,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. “It’s the Mark. It’s just a Mark. You can live with this. You can be good. Be good for her. Try to be good...she’d probably forgive us if we slipped up but gotta be good for Y/N.”

I took a big breath and got out, leaning against the building, the pressure of it building up again. I needed her. It felt a little better when Y/N was around, the urge not so much in the front of my mind. It was still there though, all the killing as a demon not helping to stop it.

“Ready whenever you are,” said Y/N, skipping out the front and locking up. She smiled and tossed her purse on the front bench of Baby before pursing her lips. She leaned in and opened the glove compartment, laughing as she shoved it in and grabbed something. “Dean, we should probably put this one away with all your hunting stuff too.”

“Yeah,” I said, taking the First Blade out of her hands. “I’ll put it in the basement with the other stuff when we get home.”

“Okay dokey,” she said, reaching her hand out to take hold of mine. I tucked the blade in my jeans and she snorted. “Are you really going to take that thing with us? Little Gorge is the safest place in the world now.”

“Well this way I won’t forget again,” I said with a smile, Y/N shrugging and starting the few block walk together, humming to herself. I’d nearly lost her the once as a demon and that I could explain away. The Mark though, that was a part of me I couldn’t get rid of, the part of me that liked feeling the blade close by, the part that liked some of the things the demon version did...liked a lot of them actually.

“Hey, I was thinking we could finally take that romantic trip we talked about,” said Y/N, looking up with bright eyes.

“Sounds great, sweetheart,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief, knowing it wouldn’t be hard to find someone in whatever town we ended up in to take care of that urge. Better there than here.

“You okay? You look kind of intense,” she said with a pout.

“I’m just nervous about the training,” I said, Y/N nodding.

“You’ll do fine, De, and then you’ll be Little Gorge’s deputy officer,” she said. “Cute uniform, second guy in charge around here...you’ll be a hot cop.”

“Yup,” I said, hoping it took her a good long while to figure out why being a cop would be a good thing, if she ever figured it out that was. Colt would have to be dealt with eventually but I’d find other ways to deal with that need until then. “So, where do you want to go on our trip, sweetheart? I know you said a cabin but what about a city? That’d be fun for a small town girl to see I think.”

“Maybe New York? I’ve always wanted to go, see all the sights and the shopping and the people,” she said, perking up. “Just like a weekend so we don’t blow all our money.”

“The city sounds perfect, sweetheart. Hopefully we can make this a regular thing.”

@anokhi07 @xxwinchester-22xx @charliebradbury1104 @everyday-supernatural-af @squirels-angels-and-moose @youwerelikeadream @drugpug @darkx143 @kristaparadowski @tom-is-in-my-tardis @tanithlowisabamf @smoothdogsgirl @dancingalone21 @ktrivia @demonic-meatball @feelmyroarrrr @cojootromuelle @gallifreyansass @fangirl1802 @casgetoutofmydiddlydarnass @mogaruke @ria132love @heycassbutt-67 @aingealcethlenn @docharleythegeekqueen @missmotherhen @smacklesandstretch67 @ceeceewinchester

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #demon dean #demon!dean #one shot #dean x reader #dean

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sysidereus · 6 years

Text

Anywhere ||:.

“I know we’ve got to get away

someplace where no one knows our name

We’ll find the start of something new”

When the current amount of alcohol in your stomach isn’t enough to distract from your problems you have two choices, you either keep drinking until you forget or you go out of your way to chew them out over a smoke. It was what worked best, at least for Sidereus. Usually, he would always go for the first choice. It wasn’t every day that drinks were freely poured around the ship and if there was something he had taken out of his trauma’s it’d have to be that you should always take everything you can before it’s gone.

This time however, he chose to go with his pack. Now at first glance him going out for a smoke isn’t anything peculiar, if anything it was already a sore view on everyone. Wherever the drifter went, the burnt smell of cigarette would always follow. It was a fact by now, almost universal. Yet if one were to look closer, you’d notice there were some things that were amiss with the picture. Either by the sudden isolation, the reluctance to meet a gaze or the way he gripped his lighter like it could anchor him down, there were little details that gave his spirit away. Someone who was familiar with him would have probably noticed it. That is if he would ever let anyone get that close.

But he didn’t, and he should never allow it. Sitting down with his legs hanging to the storage below, he takes a drag before resting his head against the cool rail. Everyone was probably either already glued to the panels or getting ready for the comet. Sid himself would have been doing the same had a sudden thought not assaulted him so strongly.

He had spent a large portion of the day completely taken by the comet and it’s myth. The whole Serenity was crazy about it, Kinam couldn’t get his eyes off his books, Jaewon wanted to kill himself with the comet. Hell, he even met one of the hackers that he swore he had never seen around. How he always missed a tower like Hanbyul was beyond him. Kamora was lost in her own world of fantasy and beauty, Audrey and Ephraim had surprised him with new sides of them, Sol had been just a complete mess and Kinam was even worse of a wreck than he was. The only part where Sid could admit he had enjoyed himself was when he had dragged Scarlett to dance with him. It had been something completely in the heat of the moment. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing but he had been taken by this sudden joy out of being alive. Out of both of them being alive and on the same ship. It had been worth it. For a while at least.

The smoke thins in front of him but he is not seeing it. He has overstayed welcome. He never stays longer than a month on the space place, let alone with the same people. It’ll be almost four months since Mina had saved him, almost four months since he paid his first passage. He had not planned on staying beyond their next stop and yet. Here he was, four months later, always packing and unpacking, ready to go but never quite doing it. There was always something stopping him. Sullivan needed help at the markets. Kafka stole his lighter again. Sonmi looked just a little too detached for his liking. Audrey wanted his company at the engine’s again, only just to bully him for his mistrust of Henry and bad terms with Sol. Jiyong wanted him to work on his aim. Kinam had a new theory about the verse he wanted to share. Ephraim had promised something delicious for supper. The reasons had been many.

Yet he knew they were all excuses. He was stalling. Purposely. And he did not know why. He was just setting himself up for another heartache. These people. These warm, oblivious, idiot people, did not know him. Sure right now they were welcoming and attentive but what would happen if they were to know his true colors?

Jaewon would probably sell him the first port they landed. He had been nothing but a pain to the captain, he was sure that at the slight opportunity he got to get rid of him he would. And even better, he’d get profit out of it. He surely wouldn’t toss the chance. Mina wouldn’t trust him anymore. He didn’t know what he had done to earn her favor but that would be long gone once she knew he had lied to her. Jiyong would probably shot him blank and the rest wouldn’t blink. Trust was a precious thing after all. It couldn’t be broken without repercussions.

Sid snorts at the thought. Not even two days ago he had been chiding Sol about it, and now here he was, worried he’d break the others too. Shouldn’t he apply what he preaches? What a hypocrite. And yet he felt that it wasn’t the same. What he had said to Sol was right. You didn’t need to trust someone to work with them, you teamed up and tried to get alive out of it. If they chose to toss their lives for others, well tough luck. It’s every man for himself out there. No one cares about noble actions unless it helps their reputation.

However the same couldn’t be said about the Serenity and her crew. They were above all, a family. A very diverse, dysfunctional one but still, a tight family. A family he wants to belong to. And in a family, trust is the one thing you don’t shatter. Even if they were to accept him, it was too much trouble carrying a wanted man on board. They would be in constant danger because of him. Sid could not have them risk their lives for him. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t worth it.

He sighs, throwing the cigarette butt across the storage. His mind drifting back to his drunk conversation with Kinam about the wishes. It had been fascinating hearing from everyone what they all wanted. It revealed what was truly important to the person, at least at that moment. A lot of the answers were vague and dismissive and Sid could relate to that after all, it was something personal. It couldn’t be shared with just anyone. And yet he still wanted to know. Not just out of curiosity but also as an inspiration.

Sid had absolutely no idea what to ask for. All he wanted was impossible. He had long resigned himself to the fact that sooner or later, he’d have to stop running. There was nothing that could be done for him, it was his word against the world and he was powerless. No one would take his side, and even if they did, it hardly mattered. He had still killed two people, two feds. It was a bleak future, but it was his and he could only run from it for so long.

Laying back down, he stares at the metal ceiling picturing what he could be already missing. He imagines the so famous red line slowly slicing the sky, leaving a trail of black emptiness as the tail dies. Somewhere in the back of his head Kinam is laughing saying comets don’t work like that. But Sid doesn’t focus on it, instead, he makes his wish.

“Just take me anywhere...”

It was far more doable. Surely Yue Lau could work its strings and grant him that.

“Anywhere... anywhere with them. That’s all I want.”

His speech is slurred but he is sure he said the right words. One last trip. One last trip so he could make up his mind and decide on what to do. But it had to be with all of them. Even the ones that itch Sid’s temper. Smiling, he runs his hands through his face, trying to keep a giddy laugh from escaping.

#sy: red string #solo|#(this is basically a recap of the event #(feel free to correct all i wrote thought this was mostly the things we talked about doing but then didn't get the time woop)#(sid you're over reacting nobody cares that you're on the run)#(sid: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)#(also i'm sorry I planned a ton of stuff with everyone and little was made but if yall want we can still keep the threads going?)#(idk hmu on the im)

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freedom-shamrock · 7 years

Text

In the Line of Fire

Also on AO3. This is a companion piece to Requesting Permission to be Support, though it can be read on its own. This is the @miraculousfluffmonth Aug 22 prompt, whoops!

Nino dashed toward the epicenter of the akuma attack zone. For a change of pace, he wasn't chasing after his cray cray girlfriend and her need for all the battle footage. He was trying to get into position to support his bro, if need be. This wasn't the usual half hour to an hour battle. It had been raging for over two, and if the reports were correct, both heroes had gone into hiding at least once, which Nino knew damn well meant they'd had to recharge their little dudes.

His backpack shifted slightly as he ran, the contents slipping around inside. Now that Adrien knew, Nino had shared his contingency plan. He would always move to the side of the battle opposite the Eiffel Tower. It was better than cardinal directions, and featured prominently in so many attacks. Being where he could see it, but as far from it as possible had been Adrien's modification to the plan. Stupid dork was worried Nino would get hurt, when he was the one getting thrown through the air, blasted by fire, and tossed face-first into walls on the regular.

With a jump, Nino caught the bottom rung of the fire escape of the building he'd chosen, and hauled himself up. Running with Alya had built up his stamina, and while he wasn't ready to race Kim, it had made a huge difference. In anticipation of a point when he could actually be overt in his assistance, he'd started working out at the gym six months back. He was glad now that he had. Fire escapes were not fun to rush up at all.

It took just a bit of completely insane parkour, best if he didn't think about it too much, to make it to the roof. He could see the heroes from here, but didn't seem to be at risk from flying debris. This was a much more localized akuma. Pulling a square mirror from one of his vest pockets, he flashed a patch of sunlight in front of Chat's feet. The black cat hero looked around once to be sure the coast was clear, then glanced over in Nino's direction. He was pretty sure he saw Chat nod once, so he put away the mirror. He had a laser pointer for darker conditions and a whistle for fog.

His fingers went quickly to the clasp on his chest strap and then the hip strap of his backpack. Crouching down, he pulled both zips down and spread the bag open so he could quickly retrieve whatever he needed.

Alya ducked behind a kiosk as she continued to film the attack. She was still proud of Ladybug, but now that she'd confirmed the hero was her bestie, she was more than a little worried that something could go wrong. She was no longer the naive girl who assumed superheroes could conquer anything. She knew the risks were real. She had a much greater understanding and appreciation for Chat than she used to. Like Alya, he seemed to focus on the fact that without Ladybug, the akuma could be beaten but not cured, and the damage couldn't be reversed. It something happened to him, she could bring him back. But the reverse was not true.

She'd already handed cookies off to Mari once, when her first lucky charm had proven ineffective, and had been swallowed by the akuma, a velociraptor who could shoot laserbeams out of her eyes, so Cyclops in dinosaur form. She really wanted to find out why this had been its chosen form.

She saw a strange square of sunlight reflected onto the ground in front of Chat Noir for a moment. She glanced up, but couldn't find the source. He was going to need a recharge soon as well. He'd used cataclysm for the second time about a minute ago.

The two heroes locked eyes and then dashed in opposite directions, circling the akuma. When it paid undue attention to Ladybug, Chat extended his baton to smack the back of the creature's head. Oh. He was the diversion. He continued to engage the akuma, giving his partner time to do her bit.

"Lucky charm!" Ladybug's voice was muffled, but then she had taken a tail swipe to the face earlier.

Alya couldn't quite catch what the charm was, but it made sense to her friend, and within minutes, she and Chat Noir had the fight wrapped up.

Ladybug's healing magic rushed through the city.

"Pound it!" Alya was pleased to have gotten such good footage, but honestly, it was secondary to her role as support person. Marinette hadn't told Chat about their arrangement yet, but she'd offered to assist him as well. She was already here. She may as well.

Moments after the magic had cleared the area, Chat Noir touched down near Nino. "Hey. Got your signal." He smiled. For him this was almost more of a secret club than actual work. His buddy was bats, that was certain.

"Yeah. We've gotta come up with something better. Like, maybe I could text my location to your baton or something." The first aid kit wasn't needed, nor the thermal blanket. He pulled out a box and handed Chat a bagel sandwich, ham and cheese. "You need to keep your strength up, dude. We're late for school." He opened a smaller package and held out a triangle of camembert. He threw a beach towel over Chat's head. "Now detransform and feed the little dute."

There was a flash of green light, followed by a nasal whine. "Oh, I'm so weak…"

"Well then it's a good thing Nino brought you cheese," Adrien said, his voice muffled by the towel. "Eat up buddy. We've got to give Nino a ride to school."

"I've got our excuses all planned out," Nino assured him. "I overslept, 'cause I haven't used that one recently, and you had a really early shoot."

"Let's keep him," Plagg said.

"Sorry Ms. Bustier," Alya said, rushing into the classroom with one arm around Marinette. She nudged her bestie to her heat. "There was an akuma attack this morning, and you know I had to film it." She'd managed to get school authorization for her random absences, because she'd written up a great proposal for an independent educational project that focused on her areas of interest. And her parents had approved. As long as she stayed on top of her classwork, and avoided undue danger, it would be permitted. She leaned closer to their teacher to whisper the next bit. "I knew Marinette would have stayed in, with the attack and all, so I went and got her once it was all clear." She'd convinced all the teachers that Marinette had an anxiety disorder, and that akumas gave her panic attacks. It was the perfect excuse for ushering Marinette to a safe place when akumas turned up during the school day.

"You're a really great friend, Alya," Ms. Bustier said, smiling. "Thank you."

Once in her desk, she pulled out her tablet and got to work. After a few moments, she noticed that Marinette was fretting, her fingers tucked into the purse where Tikki rested. "What's up?" she whispered.

Marinette glanced at her purse. "Hungry."

"Oh. Let me see if I have anything left." Poor Tikki had worked so hard today. Alya rummaged in her bag, letting out a little grunt of annoyance. "I've only got this." She held up the tiny cardboard package of cheese she'd started carrying as an emergency back up for Chat Noir if he needed.

"Camembert?" Marinette asked, looking into her purse, then she shook her head.

Nino slowly turned and looked at his girlfriend. He'd picked up most of the whispers behind him. "You gonna eat that?" he asked, gesturing to the cheese.

Marinette looked repulsed and Alya just shook her head.

"Can I trade you some cookies for it? They're my mum's chocolate chip recipe." He watched as Marinette's eyes went wide and hopeful.

"Uuh. Yeah," Alya agreed, nodding. "Here." She handed him the cheese, taking the cookies in a waxed paper sleeve..

"Cool. Thanks dudes." He leaned over to whisper to Adrien. "Open your bag and nudge it my way. I've got a bit more cheese." As he was straightening back up, he caught sight of Alya tucking the cookies into Marinette's tiny purse. Yeah. That wasn't at all suspicious. It seemed he and his girlfriend would be having the same kind of talk that Chat was planning to have with Ladybug.

Next in series > Achievement Unlocked

30 minute speed write that had to be extended by 5 to adequately wrap up.

This was going to be the last in this I See You series, but it feels incomplete, so I’m using the last undedicated prompt to do that.

I don’t know if the French have fire escapes like ours in the US, but it makes sense, so I went with it.

#Miraculous Ladybug #mlfluffmonth #I See You #fanfic #my writing #ML Fluffgust 2017

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mymarvelimagines · 7 years

Text

His Human Mate - Part 2

You and Loki spend the entire night talking quietly on the couch. You talk about what life on Asgard was like, what being Tony’s sister is like, what his favorite magic spells are. It’s almost like a first date, but Tony is constantly glaring from the corner.

Loki leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear causing a shudder to run through you, “I believe, that Antony is displeased with your choice of company tonight, dove”

You let out a breathy chuckle, “He doesn’t control who I let court me”

Loki lets out an amused chuckle, “I wonder who the true Alpha of your little pack is”

Clint snorts and bursts into laughter, “Y/N’s obviously the one who runs the tower. Tony can’t deny her anything”

“It’s not nice to eavesdrop, Clint. I’m trying to have a conversation” You toss a pillow at him, but it’s easily caught and sent sailing back. Yelping when it hits you in the face you glare at the archer. “Meanie”

Loki chuckles, “Will you go out to dinner with me two days from now? Is that an acceptable first date?”

“I’d really like that, just let me know where you want to go tomorrow so I’ll know what to wear. I mean,” You look up at him through your lashes, making your voice breathy, “I’ve never been courted by a prince before”

His eyes dilate and he inhales, taking in your alluring scent, and the provocative brushes of your consciousness against his. “It is not something you will regret, dove”

“I hope not” You glance up when you hear a soft whine, Tony’s watching you, His shoulders are slumped and he looks tired, but be also looks like he will refuse to leave unless you do. Turning back to Loki, you whisper, “I have to go now, but I’ll see you tomorrow”

Loki brings you hand up to his mouth, giving you the barest brush of his fangs against the thin skin on the back of your hand, then pressing a kiss there before letting you go. “Good night, dove. I will see you on the morrow”

Standing up you hesitate for just a second before darting in and pressing a kiss to Loki’s cheek, “Dream of me, my prince” you breathe, making him shudder when your breath brushes against his ear.

When you pull back you smirk at his slightly dazed look, before turning and making your way to Tony.

“Y/N …” he whines, reaching out for you. The man looks exhausted, he hasn’t slept in 49 hours, and it was past time for some sibling snuggles.

“Come on, big brother, time for bed.” Tony lets out another whine, but he follows you to the elevator.

“When we get back to the penthouse you can shift and we’ll curl up in your room together”

As soon as the elevator doors open Tony starts to shift, easily flowing from his human form into his wolf form. Now in front of you is a brown wolf about the size of a small car. Tony lets out a soft chuff and nudges you further into the penthouse.

“I need to change into PJ’s first, Tones. Go get settled, I’ll be in there in a minute”

After you get dressed you head to Tony’s room. He’s already made a nest out of various blankets and pillows, and before you even get the chance to climb into bed Tony gently grabs you and pull you in.

“You impatient mutt!”

Tony just lets out another growl, shoving his cold nose against your neck. His body is practically covering your, making it so you can’t move. “Move over! You’re gonna smother me!”

Tony just lets out another whine and refuses to move. His mind brushes against yours, and while the wolf can’t use real words he can sent over feelings and images. Right now he’s sending over fear, “Why are you scared Tones? Neither of us are in any danger!”

A flash of you and Loki, and then another feeling, loneliness. “Do you think I’ll abandon you just because Loki’s courting me?” He lets out a soft growl in confirmation, “What did you think would happen? Did you think I would train you for Loki? That I would just forget about you? I’d never do that! You’re my brother! I’d never abandon family”

A feeling of relief flow through you, “You’re so stupid Tony, you really are lucky that I love you”

With a soft huff Tony settles down for the night. You’re glad that you and Tony managed to get your problems settled. Hopefully now he’ll be a little nicer to Loki.

–

Two days later finds you getting ready for your date when the alarm to assemble goes off. Both Tony and Steve are with you, helping you get ready. Steve was doing your hair, and Tony was looking through your closet, yelling about going shopping soon.

Sir, Captain Rogers, you are needed.

“Talk to me, J. What’s going on?”

HYDRA seems to have deployed a weapon. Sensors are unsure what type of weapon; however, SHIELD has called the Avengers to assemble, Sir.

“Thanks, J. Let the team know we’re on our way, and prepare the suit for me”

Of course, Sir.

Tony walks over and presses a kiss to your forehead, “You gonna be on the comms?”

“Yeah, I’ll head there now, can’t have you out there without some sort of conscience to keep you in line”

Steve chuckles, “I’m glad someone has a leash on him”

–

“Y/N! Have the sensors managed to find the HYDRA weapon yet?”

You quickly start scanning the cameras, “It looks like the earth quakes are being generated in the warehouse district. I don’t have an exact location, but I’m working on it”

“Well, can you work any faster?! It’s a little difficult to fire these support arrows when the buildings don’t stay still” Clint shouts as he once again has to relocate.

“I’m doing my best, just give me …”

Tower breach

Tony immediately starts swearing, “Shit, J. Can you tell who’s in the tower?”

Hostiles have entered through the roof; they are making their way through the tower. Sensors are reading 45 heat signatures

“Y/N you need to get out of there. Get into the Hulk-Out room”

“I can’t leave yet, Tony. I’m so close to finding the weapon! Just give me a few more minutes!”

“Please, dove! Get to safety!” Loki begged.

“If I don’t find this weapon more people will die! JARVIS I need some more time! Can you start locking doors? And set the Bots free to cause some trouble”

Of course, Y/N. We shall make it difficult to get to you, however I fear that we will not be enough to stop all of the hostiles

“This was nothing but I diversion! Y/N I’m coming back to the tower” Loki growls

“Diversion of not there are still civilians that need help!! Everyone just keep doing what you’re doing!”

Tony lets out an angry shout over the comm, “Knew I should have made you a suit! After this shit, I’m making you one, I don’t really care how much you bitch”

“Fine, after we stop the earthquakes, you can make me a suit. I won’t even stop you from making the suits that can move on their own! Now shut up so I can get to work”

JARVIS informs you every time a hostile gets to a new floor. They are quickly working their way through the tower, and you are franticly trying to find where the weapon is before you try to escape.

“I found it!” You shout, “It’s in the sewers! There’s an opening right underneath the old textile mill!”

“Thanks Y/N, now get to safety! Iron Man and I will make sure that the weapon is destroyed.”

“I’m going, Cap! Don’t get your panties in a twist”

Suddenly there was the click of a gun behind you, “Get up. Show me your hands, and get up slowly”

“Alright settle down, no need to use guns” You put your hands up and quietly stand. Everyone is shouting over the comms, asking what was going on.

“Take out the comm unit, and place it on the table. Can’t have Mr. Stark following us.”

“Alright. Guys I gotta go, have fun finishing up.“ You quickly put the comm down on the table. “So what do you plan to gain from this? I’m not the engineering genius, if you want a weapon built for you, then your kidnapping the wrong sibling”

The guy grins, “HYDRA has plans for you. Come quietly or we will have to use force.”

You smirk, “If you think I’ll go quietly, then you definitely have the wrong sibling”

Before you can even try to fight back, his gun guns go off. Pain tears through your stomach, and you look down in shock.

“You should have listened, Ms. Stark”

You hit the floor, “If I die” you rasp, “you’ll get nothing”

He crouches down in front of where you’ve collapse, “You won’t die, you don’t have to worry about that” Then he raises his fist and slams it down on the side of your face, knocking you out cold.

–

Tony lets out a shout when he hears the gunshot. “J! What happened?!?”

Unfortunately, the HYDRA agents have disconnected my cameras, I cannot see what is happening. However, my sensors indicate that Y/N has been injured and is currently being carried out of the tower and put in a black van.

“Follow the van, hack into every camera you have to and follow them as far as you can” Tony snaps. He should have gone back to the tower, he should have left the others to take care of the earthquakes, he should have protected his little sister.

“Anthony! Where is she?!?” Loki shouts. He looks frantic, “I heard the gunshot, do you know if she is alright?!”

“JARVIS was compromised, Y/n was hurt, and the HYDRA agents have her”

“WHY AREN’T YOU GOING AFTER HER?!?” Loki roars

Steve is the one who steps forward to help, “If any of us go after her right now, they’ll kill her. They’ve already shot her once, if we try to get to her now, they won’t hesitate to kill her”

Loki snarls, “We shouldn’t have left her alone. I should have gone as soon as this breached the tower”

Steve sighs, “She would never have forgiven you if you had let civilians die for her”

“I know, but as we speak she gets further away. We do not know what they want with her, we do not know anything!”

Finally looking up, Tony makes eye contact with Loki, “We’ll find her. We’ll find her and we’ll make them pay”

Loki nods, “Failure is not an option. I will begin a tracking spell as soon as we get back to the tower”

Tony nods and claps his hand on Loki’s shoulder, “HYDRA will regret taking her”

Loki smirks, “I look forward to making them suffer. No one harms a Prince’s mate without consequence”

The rest of the Avengers all nod. They may have only known Y/N for a short time but she has managed to wriggle her way into all their hearts. HYRDA will rue the day they decide to mess with the Avengers family.

---------------

Part 3

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xavierdominico-blog · 6 years

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Ultimate Overwatch Review by me

Exists in a intersection between style and artistry, a crossroad where pure heavenly joy matches tasteful, bright design to make a rare spark of magic. The individual who has deadshot aim isn't any more precious than the individual who has the decision-making capability to understand when a well-timed capability will turn an involvement, or the individual who has the map-sense to locate the perfect places to put sentry turrets. While it did not just drown me in choices, maps, and manners, it is blessed with a large number of tactical layers, and not one of them came between me and my personal pleasure of its extreme, concealed teamfights, along with thrilling overtime comebacks. Overwatch does a excellent many things nicely, but above all , its achievement is built on the backs of its numerous exceptional characters. It is fitting that the principal menu is dominated by a single of these constantly; their varied looks, roots, and characters are all laid bare with each pose they hit. Reinhardt's enemy hammer lands onto his shoulder with a meaty clank that amuses a broadsword resting against a medieval knight's plate , and Tracer's jovial grin is simply temporarily interrupted with a rebellious bang which slides across her face, enticing her to blow it back into position until re-addressing the camera and trapping all over the area. They are so different that you would imagine them looking absurd standing alongside another, but through careful, subtle visual cues chucked in their gear and apparel, they figure out how to look as though they share a frequent Earth, even when they hail from other corners of it.

This diversity continues to stand out once you select a hero and hit on the battle together. Even though the 21 characters (all of whom have been unlocked in the beginning ) are roughly grouped into one of four"functions," no 2 sense equally. The robotic, changing Bastion and the anarchic, explosive-tossing Junkrat are equally technically Defenders, however they could not play with any more differently from one another. The former appears for a comfy place overlooking a key choke point and transforms to a minigun turret to conduct stage protection; the latter plays an area-denial match by lobbing timed grenades over extended distances, which sit on the floor blinking angrily, as if to say"go someplace else" to encroaching enemies prior to bursting. This powerful sense of distinction is significant as it keeps team makeup plans from devolving into easy formulas. Notwo two Supports, and 2 Attackers isn't the magic solution to get a winning group. You need to appear much deeper -- and if you do, the authentic splendor of Overwatch's gameplay excels.

Each Tool From The Box Among the sudden keys to surfacing those nuances is the refusal to provide up crutches to lean on. With hardly any arguable exceptions, no personality is concentrated solely about one catch-all weapon or ability to the extent which you could find success by utilizing it independently. Tracer's double machine-pistols have a higher rate of fire but bad precision, a brief clip, along with middling harm if you are not scoring headshots. Genji's shurikens are exceptionally damaging and boast unerring precision, but their slow rate of fire and lengthy traveling time may make hitting a little moving target hard. Nearly every key weapon fits this mould: they are helpful, and in the ideal situation quite strong, but not flexible enough for a safety blanket to cling to. Not only do all these small details help distinguish personalities, but they pushed me to research their other skills looking for success.

You need to appear much deeper -- and if you do, the authentic splendor of Overwatch's gameplay excels.

And after I started looking more carefully, I could not stop discovering new items. Revisiting Junkrat's toolset, he does not have one standard, dependable gun to simply right engage an enemy facing him. Surehe could bypass grenades across the floor, leading his goal as best he could, but if you're good enough to win one-on-one firefights in this manner, you would not be realizing his entire potential.

One immobilizes enemies which wander to it, another blows them when triggered. In practice however, they may be much more. Steel Trap may be an escape tool, enabling you to disengage from battles with quicker enemies hoping to get on mind. Its positional alert upon being actuated enables it to double as a early warning system also, permitting you to know that somebody on the opposite team is trying to emphasise your defenses and holding them long enough for one to react. Or, plant a Concussion Mine along with a Steel Trap and only detonate it once you see it triggered as you are off someplace else peppering the object with grenades. You may even utilize Concussion Mine as a normal old grenade by pitching it in a bunch of enemies and detonating it manually since it gets there. Maybe most amusingly, you are able to detonate it beneath to rocket-jump up to otherwise-inaccessible places. Two skills on a single character opens up those chances, and as you might imagine, as soon as you get 12 characters scrapping over goals, using their skills to help and harm one another, additional layers of strategic nuance start to unfurl.

For instance: On her Pharah could be a significant headache by projecting herself into the atmosphere and hovering there while raining rocket-propelled passing down to opposing teams out of angles which leave both pay and positioning . Mercy's Guardian Angel capability allows her to swoop toward some other ally in scope, even up ones in the skies. Together with her capacity to slow her descent with her wings, she is the only character which may follow Pharah where she goes. So you wind up getting a lively duo flying all over the area -- that the one shoving rockets down people's throats while another switches involving recovery up her and buffing her already considerable damage output as necessary.

The amount of all of these minute particulars is that virtually every activity, even the ones that you repeat over and over, feel only a little bit magical.

Overwatch is loaded with synergies such as this: Reinhardt and Lucio, Zarya and Reaper, Torbjorn and Symmetra...there is no lack of opportunities for enthusiastic, coordinated drama, and if you reach a place where you feel comfortable shifting your personality on the fly at the center of a game to capitalize on feeble enemy group makeup, you truly feel as a strategic genius.

You can spend several hours enjoying Overwatch before getting to this point by correctly wrap your mind around all of the little intricacies it's tucked away behind its own sheen, but you don't have to just to get a fantastic time with it. Just trying out various personalities, popping off their skills, and moving throughout their entire world feels almost indescribably right, and it is all due to tiny, nearly imperceptible details. The lid on Junkrat's grenade launcher flaps and clanks about along with his every movement, Lucio's motion has only the slightest touch of inertia, which means you truly feel as though you're skating once you play with him. Zenyatta's reload cartoon may be my favourite; I never got tired of seeing him open his arms to unveil a brand fresh pair of orbs before clasping them with a gratifying, metallic thud. It is a little thing, sure, but the amount of those minute particulars is that virtually every activity, even the ones that you repeat over and over, feel only a little bit magical.

Overwatch's 12 maps are flush with luxuriant details, and in addition, they play a major part in extracting additional depth from the throw toolsets. The first chokepoint on Hanamura begs to get static defenses such as Torbjorn's turret or Symmetra's sentries constructed around it, and also for attackers with the ideal mobility abilities (watch Pharah and Mercy over ) the lengthy gap between the left side of their first and second catch point becomes a tantalizing chance to emphasise the defenders until they could reset themselves. Payload-escort maps such as Route 66 supply high ground on each side of the Allied route, establishing paranoia-inducing ambush situations where Winston's curved Shell Barrier becomes valuable for protection against dangers that may be coming from many angles at the same time. You are not only considering how your personality will operate in the context of your group, but also about what chances any map supplies, and ways to exploit them.

Each map is directly tied to a particular target type, therefore their structure is well-tailored into the activity available. You never get that much disjointed sense of playing capture the flag onto a staff deathmatch map, such as you could in other multiplayer shooters where maps need to adapt an assortment of modes. The upsides are more subtle, but important. Maps are concentrated without feeling constricted; there is no question about where you are headed or how to arrive, as each flanking route and side door finally puts you wherever you want to be. This manner, Overwatch's map layouts enable you to pick your vector of involvement without risking you becoming lost in which the activity is not happening.

Tying manners to maps within this one-of-a-kind fashion includes a little disadvantage as well though: Overwatch does not have a lot of different ways to change things up like most other games of its type do. This is not Halo where many maps encourage different team sizes, goals, and a ton of different altered rules. There is just 1 way to perform Volskaya Industries: it should always be strike the very first stage, then strike the second. This absence of customization allows for finely tuned action, but also cuts to the general width and wide range of their experience compared to other contemporary multiplayer games.

Overwatch takes pretty much every possible chance to create its throw and locales look like places and people instead of puppets and scenery.

However, like its personalities, Overwatch's maps are full of nuances that can take some time and repetition to understand, rather than simply from a mechanical perspective. Bits of narrative and world-building is discovered through the superbly conceived surroundings. Picture posters at the living room of a single map show the mech-piloting pro-gamer D.Va's actual name is Hana Song, which she had a picture career too. Another map includes a row of arcade machines, and should you just happen to be playing as Genji, the cyber-ninja may begin reminiscing about the number of hours of his"misspent youth" he burnt away playing with there. Occasionally characters that have a past and do not enjoy each others find themselves on precisely the exact same group, and you're going to hear about it. Overwatch takes pretty much every possible chance to create its throw and locales look like places and people instead of puppets and scenery.

Concerning attributes, Overwatch is merely a little thin, but it satisfies the majority of the fundamental expectations of a multiplayer shooter and in certain ways, surpasses them. Its remarkable stat-tracking, per-character controller mapping, and availability options stick out. Additionally, it does a fantastic job of identifying and devoting very good play to enemies and teammates through a publication commendation system along with a candy"Play of the Game" highlight reel. Matchmaking is fast and dependable, and the decorative unlockables are amazingly charming and come in a fairly good rate without paying for additional loot packs. Nevertheless, I dug the personalities' inventory layouts so far, I did not need to ramble too much from them anyhow.

Overwatch is an unbelievable accomplishment in multiplayer shooter style. It bobs and weaves virtually perfectly between becoming the quick-fix adrenaline strike you may need after a long day of work, along with the thoughtful, tactical multiplayer experience which becomes the middle of all evening-long binges with buddies. It may not possess the most exhaustive collection of maps and manners, but it supplies almost endless opportunities for thrilling, coordinated drama, and if you are the one in the middle of itfeels as though nothing else.

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darbiblog-blog · 7 years

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How to Encourage Children in Sports

New Post has been published on https://darbi.org/how-to-encourage-children-in-sports/

How to Encourage Children in Sports

Sports can be more than only an approach to take a break after school and on ends of the week. As per the site Kids, Wellbeing from Nemours, regular exercise can help children fortify bones and muscles, get a sound rest and decrease the danger of stoutness and medical issues, for example, Sort 2 diabetes. Partaking in sports can likewise help self-regard and enhance social abilities. Encourage your child’s enthusiasm for games to help guarantee that the experience is a positive one.

The significance of action in youthful children ought not to be denied, and sports offer a brilliant possibility for your young one to be dynamic as well as to take part in a gathering domain; your encouragement can be an awesome help to your child around there, yet it can be hard to know exactly how to approach conveying that encouragement. Some ways you can encourage your child to take an interest in sports are to locate the correct one for your child, take part as well as can be expected with your child in his or her picked movement, and bolster your child with toys coordinated toward that sport or others that will permit them to invest more energy with that action.

Distinctive children are suited to various sports, and perceiving which sport will be best for your little one can be troublesome; however with the quantity of various sports that exist there is something for everybody, and getting your child required in a wide range of sports from a youthful age can help her to find which she appreciates the most. As much as you are capable, you should assist with your child’s sports – if you don’t think about it, attempt to find out about it, and your help can compensate for both you and your child. Your interest will set aside a few minutes and encourage him to be both dynamic and included and will fabricate a thankfulness for exercise that will prove to be useful further down the road.

When purchasing toys, in the event that you remember the particular sporting movement your child appreciates, you can encourage a sound view for sports as well as guarantee that your child has more opportunity to play, rehearse, and for the most part make the most of his particular range of intrigue – not exclusively would you be able to get them hardware for a particular action, you can likewise purchase toys that loan themselves to specific sports just using them; for example, if a sport includes tossing and getting, there are many toys and diversions that are not a particular sport but rather in which your child can hone either (or both) even without anyone else’s input.

It is likewise fundamental that you ensure your child is the correct age for whatever toy you are purchasing – consider what level of supervision may be required, and additionally what level of ability is required for whatever you might purchase, and you will have the capacity to guarantee the happiness and wellbeing of your child to a greatly improved degree.

Finding what your little one appreciates might be troublesome, yet it can be extremely fulfilling, and will guarantee not just a pleasure for you and your child, additionally an extraordinary outlet for vitality and work out, and an awesome way to your child’s wellbeing by giving an establishment to the significance of activity in your child’s life.

Motivating Your Children to Practice and Play Hard

Knowing how your child thinks and feels is critical to offering them encouragement. Regardless of whether you’re spurring them to hone a sport or to do homework, it’s vital to know their qualities, shortcomings, propensities, and wishes.

Demonstrate your child that you regard how they think and what they need and that you need to set aside the opportunity to tune into how they feel.

Ask them what, assuming any, sports they’d get a kick out of the chance to play and what desires they have. Attempt to comprehend what they need to escape any movement.

Your child may state, “I need to be the best b-ball player that at any point played the amusement,” and your response ought to surely be sure. While it’s best to abstain from thumping them around disclosing to them their objectives are incomprehensible, attempt to underline how buckling down for something is something worth being thankful for in itself.

Reveal to them that the exertion they put in and the fun they have at the same time is important only for their purpose.

Being physically dynamic yourself is the most direct method for encouraging your child to esteem honing a sport and being dynamic all in all. You’re your child that everybody, from children to grown-ups, needs to continue accomplishing something, again and again, to wind up distinctly effective. Notwithstanding driving with your activities, clarify how every muscle and each ability should be worked out.

Dealing with Achievement and Failure on the Sports Field

It’s surely not an awful thing to be thrilled if your child scores a triumphant objective. In any case, win or lose, there are sure things you ought to dependably say previously, then after the fact and amusement.

Before any amusement, tell your child, “Have a fabulous time, play hard, and I adore you.”

After any diversion, ask your child, “Did you have some good times?” and say, “I’m glad for you, and I adore you.”

Remind them how energized you each time you get a possibility just to see them in uniform or a cluster.

Stress your child’s exertion, regardless of whether they won or lost. For instance, you may state something as “You made an extraordinary showing with regards to of supporting your colleagues out there today. I am pleased with how you played the diversion.”

Attempt to help your child reframe the circumstance when they encounter a misfortune. For instance, you may state, “I know it’s frustrating not to win, but rather you’re passing was magnificent! You’ve worked so hard on it, and I can see your change.”

Regardless of the possibility that your child buckles down at something, they will confront snags in any sport, whether they haven’t made the group or endured an unbalanced thrashing. Set up your child by advising them that everybody has their opportunity to sparkle, and it’s alright that today wasn’t their day.

On the off chance that your child is occupied with sport yet doesn’t make the group, attempt to keep them locked in. Keep on practicing with them, search for an instructional or less aggressive alliance, discover a sports camp, and encourage them to experiment with one year from now.

Remind them to keep things in context, and that not making the group doesn’t characterize their identity or how pleased you are with them only to try.

Being basic and separating where the amusement turned out badly isn’t useful. Rather, take a stab at concentrating on what your child did accurately, what abilities you saw while they were on the field, and on highlighting any particularly fun minutes, you took note. Focusing on inspiration and fun parts of the diversion will encourage spur your child to give it their everything again next time, paying little respect to whether they win or lose.

Regardless of whether it’s an individual or group activity, your child has a mentor. Give them a chance to give the last talk and be basic.

Your child will require you to help them make the misfortune less demanding to deal with. Kids regularly experience difficulty isolating an unfavorable occasion from their character: they think the misfortune characterizes their identity.

Ensure they know how glad you are to them win or lose, and give them friendship and consideration. It’s best not to give your child a chance to be separated from everyone else after losing, and attempt to converse with them or keep them talking. Being quiet may show that you’re distraught at them, and an excessive amount of alone time may make them abide.

Encouraging Children for Healthy Competition

When going to a group sporting occasion or practice, be a supporter of the whole group. Abstain from encouraging destructive rivalry among the players, and don’t undermine the mentor’s guidelines. You would prefer not to make your child, or different children believe it’s alright to treat each other with disregard or to undermine the mentor’s power.

At whatever point another child scores an objective or makes an excellent play, cheer for them similarly as you would your child.

Attempt to speak with different guardians about being an extraordinary emotionally supportive network for every one of the children in the group: make a solid group and family environment.

Keep in mind that sports are for having a fabulous time, creating self-regard, social abilities, and a feeling of the group. Encourage your child to be focused and need to endeavor to enhance capacities, yet not for the result of winning alone. Help them to set and characterize objectives with the end goal of building up their feeling of self and helping them to take pride in their achievements. Help them comprehend that it’s inappropriate to utilize intensity or to be awesome at something as methods for putting others down.

Tell them how vital you think it is to help someone else chip away at a specific undertaking once you’ve aced that errand. Give them a case of how you turned out to be great at something, then set aside the opportunity to impart that ability to someone else.

Notices

Abstain from getting to be distinctly exuberant when supporting your child’s athletic attempts. Be a decent good example by responding to a child’s annihilation and triumphs effortlessly, demonstrating regard for mentors and umpires and being gracious to the contenders and their folks.

Tips

Shield your children from getting to be overpowered with sports or rivalry. Adjust games with school and non-athletic pastimes. Permit your child to stop the sport if he feels focused on, fears practices and diversions, or says he’s just taking an interest in making you glad.

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