#pidge jams

[niqosblog]

Why Do People Distrust Reboots of Cartoons?

An Analysis

Root of The Trust Issues

I feel like ever since Teen Titans Go, people have lost faith in reboots of classic shows. Especially since their only basis is "this is a show for little kids", and they expect it to be immature and plotless.

You can't just announce that you're making a TV show reboot of a classic with a more simplistic art style without expecting backlash.

Just saying "I like the [insert media] reboot!" Everyone is gonna be on your back and say that it's a bad lifeless reboot. But I believe that some are actually good. They have kept up similar themes and still progress with the modern world.

The Exception

If we're really getting into this topic, may I say that Voltron: Legendary Defender is a reboot that people loved to pieces. Even with its awful ending, people still loved it. Yet no one asked for it.

No one looked at the old Voltron and said "I wish there was a reboot".

Was the show good? YES!

It performed amazing during its run. It had a strong fan following to it as well.

Was it bar for bar, character for character accurate? NO!

Keith was supposed to end up with Allura, going so far as to marry her. Pidge was actually a clumsy dwarf boy that had a crush on Allura. Hunk was some buff white guy rather than a chubby Samoan dude.

Yet, did people complain? ALSO NO. And the only reason why, was the art style.

Simplistic Art Style

Then we get to things like the My Little Pony and Strawberry Shortcake Reboot. These are objectively good reboots as a stand alone, without a nostalgia bias.

They have representation, life lessons, friendship themes, basically everything that the original was. But the fact it's a 'reboot' is what throws people into hysteria.

Strawberry Shortcake was always a spunky girl who would always problem solve in a kind and caring way. Always true to her friends, loved making friends.

She is such a stereotypical good girl that the show even pokes fun at it. Making jokes that she's too trustworthy and friendly. And they keep this trend in the reboot. Yet people didn't watch it.

And you want to know why?

"it looks lifeless" "it lost its spark" "the designs are ugly"

Why This Argument Sucks

This isn't a real argument. Exhibit A would be Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TMNT).

We can agree that TMNT has kept a consistent art style. Mostly consisting of the big eyes, similar body shapes, wide mouths... The only two thing differentiating them being the eye covers and weapons.

Now in the reboot, there are several differences.

Raphael - Stocky, beefy, wider, taller, snaggle tooth

Leonardo - skinner waist, broad shoulders, long head, slightly muscular arms, eye markings

Donatello - basically the same as Leo but he has skinner arms, and goggles

Michaelangelo - rounder, shorter, bigger eyes, more colors

Unlike the other adaptations, where they look like the same copy and paste character with a slight hue shift, they actually look different. But before it came out, there was a lot of backlash of the characters looking ugly.

That soon changed when clips started circling around that people gave it a shot. And guess what. They liked it! They called the characters charming and unique, and even got a huge fandom from shares on Tiktok and advertisements from the program airing the show.

Sure, people did complain about the simplicity. But they eventually came to enjoy it. So why can't people keep the same energy for other reboots?

Nostalgia

The biggest factor of all is nostalgia. I loved Strawberry Shortcake: Berry Bitty Adventures. And I dabbled in watching the 2003 version because I loved it when I was a kid. Yet, I still love the reboot.

Berry in the Big City isn't a bad reboot, people just don't want to give it a chance because of the nostalgia factor. They grew up with the 2003-2009 version and expect no changes, and when things did change they threw a fit.

I don't know how to tell you this, but this show was made for KIDS. Not teenagers looking for a fun watch, not adults looking for a taste of classic TV, but children.

Sure, there are some teens and adults who love this show because they might be a babysitter or an older sibling. Or maybe just someone who heard it was good and wanted to give it a watch.

But if your only reason for disliking a show is that "it's not my [insert character]" is showing that you're just scared of change. If I'm really being honest, BITBC shows more personality in their characters.

Back in Berry Bitty Adventures, they all felt like the same girl just with a different goal. Here, Strawberry is more hyperactive and passionate, Blueberry is going with the flow and airhead-ish, Orange is a competitive athlete, Lemon is an emotionally closed off inventor, Lime is a nerdy fashionista.

And they all look different.

I have confused Raspberry Torte and Strawberry in 2009 more times than I can count. Even characters like Cherry Jam and Blueberry who have a different color scheme, look similar when desaturated.

And if you feel hurt by the fact that I'm saying cons about a series you loved as a kid, then you're part of the problem.

I don't expect you to say that "oh, yeah, I can see that." but instead, admit that not everything you grew up with was perfect.

And if Strawberry Shortcake isn't enough proof that people glorify the original too much, may I remind you people continuously hate the Monster High reboot.

The original had racial stereotypes, outdated jokes, sexist characters, toxic relationships (that for some reason stayed together), misrepresentation of disorders, and way more.

The reboot actually tries to be sensitive to who might be watching their show. They made Asian coded characters not yellow, they properly represent disabilities, they don't make Abbey's foreign accent a joke, they have body diversity. And g1 is apparently still superior.

Another reminder is that when g1 tried to make progress with their first gay character, they back tracked it and made it subtext. There will always be a problem with g1 Monster High, the only people who ignore it are people who are scared of change.

Conclusion

Are you supposed to watch all reboots from now and forever into eternity. No. This is just a thing I noticed when goons glaze on a cartoon that they (probably) didn't even watch getting a reboot.

There are bad reboots out there, (I'm looking at you Velma..), but I feel like if you just watched a couple episodes you'd find them more enjoyable. The original doesn't disappear when you watch a reboot. In fact, most of the examples I've mentioned are free on YouTube.

#strawberry shortcake 2021 #strawberry shortcake #berry in the big city #berry bitty adventures #voltron #voltron: legendary defender #vld #keith kogane #pidge holt #katie holt #pidge gunderson #lemon meringue #orange blossom #blueberry muffin #lime chiffon #cherry jam #raspberry torte #raspberry tart #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rotmnt #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #monster high #monster high 2022 #reboots #cartoons #long reads

[bosspigeon]

5 Songs You've Been Listening To tagged by @boghermit ! Thank u for the tag!

MY HANDS ARE EMPTY - Machine Head

hand crushed by a mallet - 100 gecs

RISK, RISK, RISK! - Jhariah

POLTERGEIST! - Corpse

Haunted House - Magnolia Park

gonna tag @rowdyrhapsody @proustianrecall @lenmonberry @thinlyveiledselfinsert @karshmallow and @steves-strapcollection

#pidge does stuff #tag games #LOVE A MUSIC LOVE A JAM

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 06)

Johnny texts you while he's deployed, but when he calls you one night, you are forced to face your consequences.

MDNI/18+

Link to AO3

OCTOBER, MONDAY MORNING, TWO WEEKS LATER

Your apartment was bathed in the cold gray light of a foggy morning, and you curled your duvet closer around you trying to stave off the dawn’s chill. You’d been awake for a while, which was very uncharacteristic of you. Usually more of a late riser, the only reason for your early bird behavior was Johnny MacTavish. 

He was three hours ahead of you, and every morning, when the sun came up in the Urzikstani hillside, you were sent an image of Johnny’s hand, clutching whatever his breakfast was that day. Sometimes it was a tin cup of black coffee, other times you’d get a banana or a protein bar. But, it was always his giant hand and a sherbet orange sky. This morning, it was cloudy and dark, and his breakfast of choice was a slab of toast, smeared with butter and jam. 

MoChroi: sunrise_sand.jpg

You: wow. quite the delicacy today. cant believe you found actual jam out there

Mo Chroi: bit suspicious. when the food gets better the missions get worse

You: uh oh

Mo Chroi: dinnae fash thief xx

Mo Chroi: writing today?

You: yep. and meeting with my prof

Mo Chroi: what ya got on then

Mo Chroi: give us a show bonnie

Mo Chroi: is it naughty?? lol

You: nope

You: rangers_tee.jpg

You sent a photo of your torso, cutting out your head, wearing his own tee shirt. His typing bubbles percolated along the bottom of the screen immediately. Then, an indignant response:

Mo Chroi: thief!! xx

You: youre the one who stole my hair tie

Mo Chroi: hairtie.jpg

Mo Chroi: needed a hostage

Mo Chroi: your bad habits are rubbin off. stole cap’s clothes out of the shower this morning

Mo Chroi: price_hat.jpg

You: you learn quick mo chroi

His typing bubbles appeared, and then they disappeared. You watched them pop up in the chat and then vanish three more times until finally all you got was silence. This was a common occurrence, so you tried not to overthink it. Over the past two weeks of texting with him, you knew he disappeared sometimes. He’d get a call to go into the field, or there would be some crisis. You wondered if his captain had discovered his prank. 

The room was still cold, and you were reluctant to leave your cocoon of warmth, but you needed to write. You had promised yourself that you’d go into the office early today before your meeting with your major professor. After a deep sigh and some very challenging mental gymnastics, you stuck a leg out and onto the frigid concrete floor.

Your apartment was very modern. So modern, in fact, that it had been a challenge to make it feel homey. There was very little room inside for anything more than a queen bed, a short futon, and your desk. Your bathroom was sleek and full of brutalist, functional, concrete stylings, but the kitchen was barely big enough for a sink and a toaster oven. You had kept the futon for guests, not that you had many (any) visitors, but aside from the stacks of books in the corners of each room, your entire studio was practical to a fault. 

But, it was enough for you and your rescue cat, Marlowe, so you didn’t complain.

On the wall opposite the front door, a huge plexiglass window overlooked the River Kelvin, conveniently situated right across from some student housing so you could access the bus. Not having a car went against your Floridian roots, but you’d fallen in love with the ease of public transportation. 

After throwing on an oversized sweater and a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you slipped on your wellies and headed to the bus stop. You’d brought a big thermos of coffee, ready to face the day. 

Your phone buzzed again.

Pidge: I’m so excited to see you this weekend!! :D

You: me too! is hammie picking me up after all or no

Pidge: Yes, I told him to be at the platform at 4.

You: cool 

Pidge: Have you spoken with my brother?

You paused for a moment, riding the elevator and staring at your phone. You didn’t want to lie to her, but you probably shouldn’t tell her the truth. The truth was that you’d been texting her brother every day since he left for leave. You went with a half-truth instead:

You: yeah a few times why

She did not respond. You waited for the other shoe to drop like a blindfolded prisoner waits for their firing squad. The bus came to your stop, and you climbed on, sitting on the carpeted seat closest to the door, knowing your stop was only three away. 

When you got to your office, your phone buzzed again. You set your bag and your coffee down before you even looked at it, avoiding touching your cell as if it had thorns. 

You flipped over the screen.

Mo Chroi: make it to the office?

You: office.jpg

Mo Chroi: have a good day today thief

Mo Chroi: helicopter1.jpg

Mo Chroi: going on a wee trip. afk xx

You: promise xx

Mo Chroi: promise xx

Promise. Promise. It was you and Johnny’s little code. You hadn’t liked hearing about his “little trips” in the beginning, especially after he had shown you a photo of his truck, riddled with bullet holes. You used to say “good luck”, but you didn’t like that sound of that. You hoped luck had nothing to do with it. So, you just asked him to promise to text you back or to promise to be safe. And he always replied that he promised he would. Now, it had shortened to your one-word ritual. You always said it and he always said it back. 

Another buzz:

Pidge: No reason. He has my phone charge the little nugget.

You: omg lol 

You were not laughing out loud. If anything, you were sighing in relief. 

It took most of the morning, but you fell into a routine. You had your meeting, came back, and wrote some more. Lunch was a pre-packaged lunch box from the student center and a refill on your coffee. You missed dinner. The sun set on you as you finished a critical section of your thesis, looking it over for flow and mistakes. 

Worn out, and finally feeling hungry again, you checked your phone on your way back to the bus stop. No new messages. You waited for the bus, flipping through his photos again as if you would have forgotten them from when you looked at them from last night. Or the night before last. 

You stopped looking at them, challenging yourself to have a non-Johnny thought in your head for once.

Maybe you would make a ramen with eggs in it tonight. 

Maybe he’ll text you back. 

You could watch another episode of that K-drama you liked. 

Maybe he’ll send you a picture of him shirtless.

You could go for a run.

Maybe he will run his tongue back over your —

The bus came. You blocked out your thoughts from your mind, desperate to regain some semblance of control. 

THURSDAY NIGHT

It had been three days, and you still hadn’t heard from him. You tried not to think about all of the terrible reasons why that might be the case. But, you did. You thought about them all the time. Every time you checked your phone or read an email or scrolled through your feeds; it was the only thing you thought about. 

You had his shirt on again, eating leftover Chinese on your futon. You were thinking about all of the things you needed to take care of before tomorrow. It was Pidge’s bridal shower weekend and you were trying to wrangle all the final touches together. You’d rented out Ettrick’s, at Pidge’s request, and you had sent the invites two weeks ago. Almost everyone had RSVP’d yes, so you were looking at nearly 45 people to host. The custom bridal cookies were set for pick up when Hamish took you into town tomorrow afternoon, and the champagne was paid for. And you were dreading it. 

You were excited to be there for Brigette. She had always been there for you. When you first moved to Scotland, you were well and truly alone. But, she met you for lunch almost every day after class, claiming to need her caffeine fix. But, as time went on, you realized she wanted to be friends. Having no one and being in a new country was so tough, but she had made it feel so easy. So, even though you hated the prim and proper social situation of a shower, you resolved to tough it out. 

You put the half-eaten Chinese back in the fridge and climbed into bed. Your phone buzzed as you went to put it on the charger.

Mo Chroi: you up?

Your heart stopped for a moment, making your breath hitch in your chest. You fumbled with your phone, rushing to open his message.

Mo Chroi: camels.jpg

You: omg! are those REAL

You: shes not a camel but ill trade you one critter pic for a Marlowe pic

You: marlowethecat.jpg

Mo Chroi: her cheeks are brilliant lol so big

You: so your mission went okay?

Mo Chroi: lol yeah. and we got the guy who owned the camels to take a cool pic of us. can you tell which one’s me?

Mo Chroi: group_pic.jpg

You: gotta be number 3

Mo Chroi: how’d you know

You: your wide shoulders. and you always stand like that

Mo Chroi: like my shoulders do you

You: yep 

You: you should send me a selfie

There was a long pause. You were a little afraid that you’d overstepped a boundary. Sure, his long, hungry tongue had been buried between your legs three weeks ago, eating you like he was starving, but people were cagey about their online privacy. You backtracked:

You: if you want to. nbd if not

Mo Chroi: selfie.jpg

You checked the image, and your heart sank like a stone. Johnny wore a green and yellow bruise over his eye, and his head had been shaved.

You: you okay? bruise looks nasty

Mo Chroi: you should see the other lad

You: and they shaved you?

Mo Chroi: got a nasty wee cut on the back of my head and doc sheared me like a damn sheep

He sent you a series of frowny faces and sheep emojis, and you felt a wave of calm settle in your chest. The latent fear was still there, and would be until you saw him again, but it was good to know he was alright. 

FRIDAY MORNING

You were back on the bus, toting around your overnight bag, planning on heading to the train straight after your colloquium lecture this afternoon. Your phone had been beeping at you all morning. Johnny was begging for you to record your talk, asking you to let him sit in on your “class”. 

You: johnny its not a class! its just a lecture. we have to give them every now and then to show what we’ve been doing with our research. its not fun. you’d be bored.

Mo Chroi: meirleach! i dinnae care how fun it is. let me see!!

You: campus.jpg

You: look. its all stuffy and campusy. you wouldnt like it

Mo Chroi: youre breaking my heart lass xx

You smiled. He was so bright, and he made you feel like you were so very special. It was no wonder he was such a danger to single women everywhere. Your confidence was soaring.

When you made it to your office, you sent him another picture of your current work. You were writing a short paper on German poems, not really related to your thesis, for a conference coming up in the spring.

You: look. you dont even speak german! it would be like torture

You: german_poem.jpg   

Mo Chroi: so cool. im beggin you. let me watch you. i won’t say a word. 

You: maybe if you come back a little early from leave next time, you can sneak into one

Mo Chroi: if i survive this training, i will. 

Mo Chroi: thinking about seeing you up there teaching. got me all turned on

You sent him an emoji with a shocked look on its face, feigning coy shyness. He was relentless.

Mo Chroi: think youd let me be teachers pet?

You: more like class clown

Mo Chroi: you did seem fond of all of my tricks. wanna see what else i can do?

You: lecture_hall.jpg

You: i have to prep for this talk. keep your naughty thoughts to yourself soldier

Mo Chroi: yes maam 

Mo Chroi: wait!

You: what

Mo Chroi: before you go. what color knickers are you in

Mo Chroi: just trying to imagine your lecture 

Mo Chroi: with accuracy

Mo Chroi: cmon lass. for extra credit

You smiled down at your phone again, knowing your answer was going to win this little back and forth game he was playing.

You: im not wearing any this morning. gonna do my washing at your place.

Mo Chroi: jesus mary and joseph

You: and all the saints?

Mo Chroi: every one of them xx

Your lecture went off without a hitch. You earned yourself a few crowd questions and a round of polite applause. Stopping back by your office on the way out, you grabbed your laptop and headed for the bus stop. You’d forgotten your phone was on silent, and it wasn’t until you made it to the train station that you realized it. Two missed calls from Pidge and three texts from her brother.

You checked the texts as you returned her call, unable to hold yourself back from seeing what he wrote to you.

She answered quickly,

“Hey! Are you on your way?”

“Yep,” you replied, “I’ll be there around three forty-five, I think.”

“Okay, perfect. I just wanted to tell you that we’re adding two more to the list. Anjali invited Steph and Tiff. Is that alright, babes?”

You tried not to groan directly into the mouthpiece,

“Yes! The more the merrier.”

What were you going to do about the seating chart? You’d figure it out later. 

“Fantastic! You’re amazing, hen. You know that?”

“Anything for you, bestie.”

She kissed you over the phone and hung up. You let out that sigh you’d been holding. As much as you loved her, you were ready for your friend’s wedding to be over with..

You checked the messages from Johnny, looking to escape from your thoughts again. He was the perfect distraction.

Mo Chroi: oh fuck no

Mo Chroi: its dog day for training

Mo Chroi: army_dog.jpg

You: you dont like dogs?

Mo Chroi: not these

Mo Chroi: had a bad time with attack dogs in russia a few tours back

The train arrived and you got settled. You weren’t sure how to respond. It was back again, that funny feeling in your chest about him being in constant danger. You didn’t know how to handle it. It wasn’t like you could ask him to stop. That was his job, and he was one of the best. He’d been enlisted on this elite task force, and even though you barely understood what that meant, you knew it was special. What right did you have to stand in the way of his greatness? The world needed Sergeant Johnny MacTavish, and you were just a distraction. 

You waited for him to text again, a distraction for you and you for him. A two-way street. That’s all it was, right? How could it be anything more? 

You thought about his sister. She’d been so painfully clear about her boundaries. You imagined telling her you liked him, telling her you wanted to date him. She’d explode. There’d be Scottish yelling, and Scottish fighting, and Scottish siblings rowing at each other all over the house. You couldn’t do that to her, especially not now. So, you just went back to distracting him.

You: did you get bitten?

Mo Chroi: yeah, right on the belly. those bastards. can you see it 

Mo Chroi: shirtless.jpg

You gasped audibly, hoping no one had heard you on the train. You’d already seen him naked, but having a picture of his bare, muscled torso on your phone was another thing entirely. You glanced around, checking behind you and clutching your screen to your chest, holding it to you shamefully, praying no one saw it. 

You typed a message, then deleted it. You tried again, and then deleted it. You knew he could see your text bubbles popping up, and it embarrassed you to no end. Eventually, you decided to just be honest.

You: youre so damn hot

The wait was going to kill you. Seconds became minutes, which became hours, which became eons. You stared at the bottom of your message like it would disappear if you looked away. You opened the picture of his bare torso again, unable to stop yourself from indulging in his huge body. You knew how those muscles felt, and you wanted to feel them again.

He didn’t respond. Your heart sank like a rock. You felt the train screech to a halt at the station, and it took everything in you to pocket your phone and leave the car.

You marched down to meet Hamish, trying to control the look on your face. 

“Hey! Over here!” he called to you from the carpark.

You saw his smiling face and tried to match his energy,

“Hey! Thanks for coming.”

“You bet,” he said as he took your bags. 

“Can we stop by the bakery around the corner? They’ve got all the cookies and pastries we ordered for tomorrow.”

“Of course, lass. No problem. Hop in.”

Hamish drove you around, the perfect gentleman, carrying box after box of dessert for his fiance’s shower, storing them carefully in the boot of the car. 

“Wow, these smell incredible, don’t they,” he crooned, “Wish I could crash your wee party.”

“No boys allowed,” you said wryly, smiling at him, eliciting a genuine laugh.

The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence. He talked a little about his research, and you shared a bit about yours, mentioning your latest lecture. Otherwise, you checked your phone constantly. 

Then, just as you pulled into the driveway of the MacTavish house, you got a text.

Unknown: Hello this is Captain John Price. Sergeant MacTavish’s phone is dead, and he is making me text you the word: promise. 

You: oh thank you. can you tell him promise back?

Captain: Roger

Your stomach twisted for a different reason now. He wasn’t upset with you, which was a relief, but he had just shipped out on another mission. It was so sudden, it seemed like an emergency. You saved the captain’s number in your phone, just in case. 

After hugging Pidge and helping Hamish with the boxes, you unpacked your bags and started the laundry. You met Pidge in the living room, watching her put the finishing touches on some gift bags.

“These are cute,” you commented, feeling the soft ripple of the ribbons tied around the bags in your fingers. 

“Thanks,” she said as she fixed one of the bows, “Hope I made enough.” 

“They’ll live,” you smiled. 

“Hey, did you hear from Johnny again?”

“Uh…no, why?” You panicked.

“He said he doesn’t have my charger but now that muppet is not answerin’ me. Gonna pop him when he’s down for Christmas, I swear.”

“He’s coming back for the holidays?” You asked, a little too enthusiastically. 

Pidge cut her eyes up at you briefly, responding in a measured voice,

“Yeah, just a week. Why?”

You wracked your brain for a reason, pretending to look at the calendar on your phone. Finally, you said,

“Think he’d drive me up from Glasgow? The train is awful at Christmas.”

“Oh,” she sighed, “God, he’s so irresponsible, babes. Not sure I trust him to get you here on time. But, I’ll threaten him. He’ll do it for me. He’s been so accommodating lately. Johnny boy is like a new man.”

“Oh, really?” You weren’t sure where this conversation was going, but you pried anyway.

“Did you know he paid for the rehearsal dinner? The whole damn thing! Having it at the wee distillery and everything. Right proper party we’ll be havin’. Cannae believe it.”

The Auchentoshan Distillery was Old Kilpatrick’s pride and joy. He’d spent a pretty penny if he’d booked it out for her.

“He loves you,” you confessed softly.  

“He tries to,” she said a little bitterly.

You watched her pack up the bags, and you began to wonder about their relationship with each other. It was clear to you that there was some immovable object that was being pressed upon by some unstoppable force. They were at a quiet, bubbling impasse, ready to boil over at any moment. Yes, they loved each other. But, Johnny and Pidge had diverged somewhere, and it was a rift that needed to be mended. 

The washer buzzed. You went to move over the clothes. 

“I’m heading over to grab the girls. Wanna come?” Pidge asked you, her keys in hand. 

“No room,” you observed, realizing they wouldn’t all fit in the car.

“Ugh, guess you’re right, hen. No worry, we’ll be right back. I’m excited to have a girls’ night.”

“Me, too,” you lied. 

Well, it was a half-lie. You didn’t mind a girls’ night. It was more the fact that you’d have to hide your phone from view as you waited for Johnny to report he was back safe and sound. 

After Pidge left, you crawled into his sheets. The memories of you and your soldier came flooding back again, but this time they swirled together with all of the complexities that you were facing. The simplicity of that brief night you shared had become warped by reality, and you realized you needed to come to terms with your emotions before you got hurt. 

FRIDAY EVENING

Your phone buzzed in your hand, waking you. It was warm from being on the charger and covered up by your body. You hoped that didn’t break anything. Sleep had taken you over like a surging wave. You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from your week. 

Unknown: heyyyyy this is soaps mate kyle. he wanted to let you know we’re back. 

You: thanks for letting me know

Kyle: you bet

You were kicking yourself. You should have asked if he was okay. Just when you were about to ask Kyle to check on him, you heard the keys jingle in the door. Swinging your feet to the wooden floor, you got out of bed and met the gaggle of ladies in the foyer.

Cheek kisses, bright hellos and how-are-yous filled the once-quiet house, and you pocketed your phone, trying to distance yourself from the pang of concern. 

You tried to keep up with the fast-paced conversation, but you weren’t the social butterfly that Pidge was. Anjali, Bekah, and Cherise were all gushing about their own lives, and you had very little to share. They were polite enough, asking you about your studies and pretending to care when you answered them.

“Oh, cool,” Cherise said, sipping on wine out of one of Pidge’s nicer glasses, “Poems are cool.”

“Yeah, I was Juliet in that one play,” Bekah said, proudly. 

“And she’ll never let us forget it either,” Anjali rolled her eyes, and everyone laughed.

They were quick to forget you again, turning back to their recent Tinder date disasters and successes. 

“And this bloke - the one with the beard thing - he ask me and this other girl to the same restaurant, on the same night! I thought she was gonna kill him right there in front of the maître de!” Anjali lamented.

Cherise smiled like a Cheshire cat, 

“Lachlan is taking me on his boat next weekend.”

“We know! Shut up about the boat, you slag,” Bekah clipped. 

Cherise shot back quickly, 

“You’re just mad ‘cause Soap hasn’t texted you today.”

You gave the girls your full attention now. You darted your eyes to Pidge who rolled them, but looked otherwise unbothered. Bekah turned her phone around and you saw the image she was eager to display,

“He’s on bloody thin ice. I asked for a pic of him in his uniform, and all he sent me was a picture of some nasty sand!”

Your chest clenched tight enough that you couldnt breathe. It was your picture. Your morning photo from a few days ago. He was holding his breakfast, outstretched, and you could even see your hair tie on his wrist, the rolling dunes of the desert stretching out before him into infinity. 

“Men, am I right?” Anjali finished her wine. 

Maybe she was right. 

SATURDAY MORNING

You’d slept beside Anjali that night, sharing the bed willingly but not enthusiastically. She had snored through most of it, and you’d barely gotten any sleep. It wasn’t just her snoring that kept you up. In fact, you were using her as a scapegoat. You had been thinking about Johnny. 

It was like you were having a war in your mind. On one hand, it was just a picture of some sand, but on the other, you had no idea how many texts they had shared before or after that. Your heart broke easily, shattering melodramatically, whining about how you weren’t special and that if you didnt control yourself, you’d be sorry for it. He was just a playboy, just like everyone said.

Your brain, however, begged you to see reason. He sent her a picture of sand, not his naked torso, and he had forced his teammates to text you your passcode when he went on his mission. Surely that was enough proof that he cared about you and not Bekah.

It wasn’t enough, said the heart. 

It has to be enough, said the head. 

It shouldn’t even be happening, said the soul. 

You watched the sun peek through the blinds just as they had when you’d been wrapped in Johnny’s arms, naked and warm against his pink skin. 

You sighed and got up to shower. 

The party was at two, so you had plenty of time. You made it over to Ettrick’s early to help set up, walking alone since you knew the others would be in heels and wouldn’t all fit in the car. You’d brought flats, sensible but stylish, and a comfortable, albeit sparkly, maxi dress. You felt like shit. Sleep would have been nice, you thought. 

Hamish had delivered all of the boxes for you this morning, and the wait staff at Ettrick’s was setting it out for you. You rearranged it as artfully as you could, and you were just about finished when your phone buzzed.

Mo Chroi: phone’s alive! sorry i disappeared on you thief. forgive me?

You: glad youre ok

You: party starts soon

You: cookies.jpg

You: dessert_table.jpg

Mo Chroi: wow! did you do all that? pigeon is gonna be chuffed

Mo Chroi: heading out to the next spot

Mo Chroi: helicopter2.jpg

You: want me to tell Bekah hi? she was waiting on you to text her back last night

Mo Chroi: ?? no 

Mo Chroi: why 

Mo Chroi: what did she say

Mo Chroi: thief? 

You: just that she was hoping you would text her back. idk

You thought about it for a little while before sending a final text.

You: i think she wanted more than just a sunrise. 

SATURDAY NIGHT

You had three missed calls from Johnny, but you were too busy trying to deal with gift unwrapping, keeping the peace at the over-crowded tables, and rushing out appetizer trays when the wait staff became too overwhelmed. It was chilly tonight, but you were sweating under your long dress. 

You thought about what you’d said to Johnny, and you were mad at yourself for trying to get a rise out of him. You didn’t want to be the one playing games, and you needed to curb your jealousy. He was allowed to text whoever he wanted, just like you were.

You: sorry. cant pick up. busy with your sister

You: champagne.jpg

Mo Chroi: answer my calls thief

Mo Chroi: i have to drive the rig but im calling you as soon as we get to our site

Mo Chroi: trucks.jpg

Mo Chroi: at least tell me when you get back. promise

You: promise

SUNDAY, 0200

You: i made it back to my apartment. hamish drove me. train was down for maintenance.

You: marlowe-in-a-bag.jpg

You: marlowe is mad that i was gone

Mo Chroi: im glad youre alright.

Mo Chroi: gaz took this at our training today

Mo Chroi: group_pic2.jpg

You: yall look tough

You: whos the one in the middle

Mo Chroi: thats the captain and ghost has the dog

Mo Chroi: go to bed thief. its late 

Mo Chroi: sunrise2.jpg

Mo Chroi: can i call you later? its important

You: ok

SUNDAY, NOON

You woke to the sound of rain. A loud peal of thunder pulled you from the darkness of your sleep. You would have stayed with Pidge, but you just couldn’t face his bed again. Hamish was happy to be your chauffeur, even after you learned that the train was out of service. You tried to buy him some gas, but he adamantly refused. 

A headache stung behind your eyes, drilling into you, punishing you for the champagne. You hadn’t been drunk, but it had been sweet, and now you were paying the price for your sugar rush. You checked your phone.

Pidge: hHad such a great night!!. Thanku for everytingf i lov youuuu!!

Pidge: omg Anji just boked inthe sink

You didn’t reply. She was probably still asleep, along with the rest of the household. There was nothing from Johnny, yet. It wasn’t unusual. He was busy with terrorism, you figured. He would text you if he wanted to text you. 

Digging in your freezer, you found some leftover soup and put it on to reheat. Your phone rang.

The selfie of you and Johnny at Glencoe flashed onto your screen. You let it ring again before you picked up.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice still hoarse from sleep.

“You still asleep, thief. I’m sorry to wake you,” he didn’t sound sorry. 

“It’s okay,” you sighed, “Just making some soup. Rainy here. Cold.”

You: rainy_window.jpg

He groaned, and you could hear the creak of a mattress in the background,

“Mm. Spent the whole day on my belly doing target practice. I miss home.”

Mo Chroi: sniperpractice.jpg

“Yeah? Looks sandy and hot. Too bad there’s no beach,” you stirred the soup.

“I miss you, mo mèirleach.”

You stopped stirring the soup. 

“I miss you, too.”

“Do you? Or are you cross about my texting Beks?”

“Both,” you went back to stirring the soup.

“Sent it to Hamish, too. You cross about tha’?”

You sent back silence. 

“And if I told you Bekah’s an old friend from grammar school, and that’s all she’ll ever be, would you believe me, lass?”

Silence was all you had to give, apparently. Finally, you poured the soup into a big bowl and set it down on your coffee table, shoving your papers and books aside, and said, 

“This soup looks amazing. Wanna see it?”

You: soup.jpg

“Thief. She’s just a friend.”

“I think there’s a song about this actually…”

“I think I’m fallin’ for you, and I need to know if you’re fallin’ for me, too.”

The bite of soup you were about to take hovered in your spoon, frozen in time. You could hear him breathing in your ear, waiting on your response. You could feel your heart shudder in your chest. 

“Johnny. We can’t…”

“Don’t. Don’t start with tha’ mess, thief. Tell me you aren’t fallin’ for me, and I’ll stop. No more texts. I’ll leave it alone.”

“She’ll never forgive me, Johnny. I don’t have anybody else, don’t you get that? I’m not even from here. I’m spending Christmas with her because I don’t have anywhere else to go. You have a whole town who loves you, and she’s your sister. She’ll forgive you in a heartbeat.”

“You have me, don’t you, thief?”

“Do I?”

It was his turn to push silence out through time and space, sending it up to the cellular satellites and mirroring it back down to you. Firing frustrated breathing noises across cables and wires and whatever other stupid fucking technology was happening to you right now. 

“Alright, lass.”

The phone beeped at you to inform you that the call had ended, but you kept it pinned on the shell of your ear, desperate for even a moment of that silence again. You regretted your honor the moment you’d held it up, and you were angry at yourself for keeping a promise you’d promised to keep. 

The phone clattered to the coffee table. The soup went cold. 

MONDAY MORNING

There was no sunrise text for you this time. Your phone didn’t have any notifications at all, in fact.  You made it all the way to the bus before you caved.

You: bus.jpg

You waited. Then, you waited some more. Nothing happened. You tried not to cry, and you failed. Luckily, the bus was empty, and the driver didn’t care about you enough to ask what was wrong.

WEDNESDAY MORNING

You: stuck in the library today. office is being cleaned.

You: library.jpg

Again, you were met with the cold emptiness of staring at your own responses at the bottom of your messages. You tried not to feel the sting of it, but you failed at that, too.

THURSDAY MORNING

You: giving a lecture today. kinda nervous about this one.

You: lectureroom2.jpg

You: hope youre okay

FRIDAY MORNING

Your phone buzzed three times, waking you up with a jolt. It was still dark outside. You fumbled with your phone, rushing to see the messages. 

Kyle: Hey this is Kyle, Soap’s mate. We’re heading back to the black site, so it’ll be a few weeks until you hear from him. 

Kyle: airplane_loading.jpg

You: thanks for telling me

Kyle: Soap asked me to tell you he promises??  I think thats what he said.

You: tell him i promise

You: and can you tell him that i made a mistake? he was right. about everything.

You: and im sorry.

Kyle: Will do!

You stared out of the window until the deep purples of night gave way to a cool pink morning glow, and you watched as the sun stretched its gentle arms up and over the river.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Chapter 07

#guile and guilt #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john mactavish smut #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mctavish #call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii

[klaissance]

I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY:

lance walks around singing and dancing lowkey constantly and he unironically enjoys “yes, and?” so he’ll like strut around bopping and then just be shouting YES, AND

and everybody else gets to play the “what is the most ridiculous thing we can get lance to yes and” game

so pidge and hunk (and he’s not proud of it but shiro sometimes too) will just like,,, ask yes or no questions at lance across the room and he can’t hear them cause he’s too busy jamming head empty only ariana, and if they time it right it’s really excellent

reigning champ of the game so far is the time hunk sighed and was like “lance,,, do you wish keith would just kiss you on the mouth already” and lance threw his head back and was like “YES! AND! SAY THAT SHIT WITH YOUR CHEST!! AND!!!”

thats it thank you for coming to my ted talk

#had to put this into the world cause i had the thought so now y’all have to hear it #i just subscribe to them being dumb teenagers in space #also this isn’t bullying i dont fw the ‘everybody’s mean to lance’ garbage #he is the peoples princess and they all know that imo #eeeeverybody loves lance #ok hope everybody’s having a good day #vld #vld headcanons #idk this is dumb #space gays #gays in space #klance #lance mcclain

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Lance, if those are my socks, you’re going to meet God tonight.”

Lance pauses just outside the common room door, glancing down at his feet (that are most definitely clad in Pidge’s gigantic knitted socks), then back to Pidge.

“I’m freezing!” he defends. “This castle is always subzero, and I’m anaemic! I needed them!”

Pidge scowls. “I know they’re warm! That’s why I wanted to wear them this morning, but couldn’t, because somebody stole them!”

Lance pouts, big brown eyes getting even bigger and bottom lip stuck out. “Aw, but Pidge —”

“No buts! You made those socks for me! Make your own! Give ‘em!”

Lance huffs as he peels them off — revealing another pair of socks, only they’re normal and not fuzzy and soft — and throws them at her.

“Meanie.”

“Thief!”

Pidge is correct — Lance is the worst clothes thief in the whole castle. In the universe, probably. Hell, he’s not even wearing a stitch of his own clothing right now — he’s wearing a long, thick skirt of Allura’s over a pair of Keith’s leggings, one of Hunk’s hoodies thrown over his shoulder. Keith can’t see due to the aforementioned giant hoodie, but he would bet his knife that under the hoodie is layered at least four various sweaters and shirts from other members of the team.

“You could just wear your own clothes, you know,” Shiro says, exasperatedly fond. “Lord knows you have more hoodies than the rest of the universe combined.”

“It’s not the same,” Lance insists. He looks mournfully at Pidge, who rolls her eyes at him. “And now I’m going to freeze to death.”

“Good,” she mutters, aggressively jamming the keys on her laptop. “Karma.”

Hunk flicks her on the ear.

“Hey!”

“Be nice,” he admonishes.

“Thank you,” Lance says primly.

“If Lance dies, who is going to get so stressed about the state of your room that they’ll clean if for you?” Hunk continues, teasing grin on his face.

Lance mouth drops in indignation. “How dare — insolence! Defamation! False accusations! I am being mocked in my own home!” He turns to Coran, dramatically incensed and enraged. “Dad!” he says, which is something he only calls Coran when he wants to get his way. “Pidge and Hunk are bullying me!”

“I heard, dear,” Coran says, amused. “How rude of them.”

“Yeah!” Lance says. He gestures wildly towards the duo in question. “They should be — punished!”

“I see. Pidge? Hunk? Do you deserve to be punished?”

Pidge and Hunk look up from their projects to bat their eyelashes, expressions as innocent as possible.

Keith quickly hides a laugh as a cough. Luckily, Lance is too caught up in dramatics to notice.

“Why, of course not, dearest father,” Hunk says. “No bullying remarks ever crossed my lips.”

“Nor have they crossed mine, Papa,” Pidge agrees, putting on a silly Victorian accent. “Why, I am appalled at the very accusation!”

“I certainly heard no count of defamation,” Allura comments, looking up for the first time in what has to have been an hour. She’s been carefully painting Shiro’s prosthetic, covering it in a myriad of flowers and vines. Shiro keeps looking down at it and smiling. “Shiro? Did you hear anything?”

“Not a thing,” Shiro says. He looks over at Lance, barely suppressing a smirk. “Sorry, kiddo!”

“Betrayed!” Lance whines. “Unloved! By my very family, my comrades in arms! I have been shot, abandoned, left to rot. Unto no minds doth my very self cross, nor the hearts or sentiments of my closest loves. Instead I am left to freeze, to perish, as frost grows from my fingertips —”

“C’mere, Mercutio,” Keith teases, interrupting Lance’s soliloquy. He pats the cushion next to him, lifting up his arm so Lance knows what Keith is implying. “You can tuck your feet under my thighs, if you want.”

“Finally!” Lance cries, stumbling over to Keith. “Someone loves me, in this cold and weary hellscape of treason!”

Lance settles in with a relish, gleefully shoving his toes under Keith’s thigh — how do they feel like ice bricks, he’s wearing at least two normal pairs of socks and Keith’s sweatpants aren’t that thin — and plastering himself to Keith’s side. He rests his head on Keith’s shoulder, squiggling around until he’s comfortable and can see everyone else.

“Keith, you are the only valid person in this room,” he says, very seriously. (Well, as seriously as he can with amusement making his eyes sparkle.)

“Oh, how the turntables,” Hunk mutters.

Keith smiles. It is kind of strange, he supposes.

“Imagine trying to explain this to us three years ago,” he whispers to Lance. Lance laughs.

“I don’t think past me would even begin to take you seriously,” he agrees.

Privately, Keith thinks that past him probably wouldn’t have all that much trouble. He’d be a little shocked, sure, but Keith’s always been soft for the kind ones, and always had a thing for the cocky loudmouths. Lance is a lucky mix of exactly Keith’s type.

“Hey, Lance,” Hunk says after a while. “Genuinely asking — why do you always steal all our clothes? You never did at the Garrison. Or, well, you did, but not this much.”

Lance hums, reaching over to grab Keith’s free hand and fidgeting with his fingers. It takes him a long moment to answer — long enough that everyone else stops what their doing, looking over at him curiously.

“Hundreds of years ago,” he says finally, voice husky and quiet, “in the time of bad spirits and changelings, there lived a woman with her small child and husband. The woman loved her husband deeply, and he her, and it saddened her every time he left, but times were tight — he was a fisherman in a time of great recession, and had to leave often and for long periods of time to get enough for them to eat and sell.

“The woman was hardy, though, and fended well for herself and her baby even without her husband. She worked any job she could with the babe strapped to her back, keeping her mind busy so the loneliness wouldn’t plague her too deeply. Every morning she held for several moments her husband’s waistcoat, that he’d left behind for fear of ruining it out at sea. It did not hold the warmth of her husband, nor even the smell of him after so long, but he’d had the coat so long that she felt it carried a part of him in it, and that part was enough to carry her through the day.

“One day, while she was gathering the dried laundry from the lines, she heard a rustling inside the house. She called out, hopeful that her husband had returned early, but there was no response. Hesitantly, careful of the babe on her back, she crept in through the bedroom window, shrouding herself in shadows so as to remain hidden.

“She was smart to be so cautious, for a fairy had snuck in — and was standing gleefully in the kitchen! The wretched thing crouched by the hearth, rubbing its hands together, waiting for her and her babe to come in through the door.

“Now the woman knew she could not stay hidden forever. Eventually her back would tire, or the babe would wake, or even the fairy would grow bored of waiting and search for her — regardless, she would be found. And the woman was no witch, so she knew no spells for herself, no charms to protect herself and the child. She had only herself, her wits, and the laundry she had gathered. The woman was not ignorant to magic, either. She knew of the power that lay dusted over every single thing; the spirit that resided in living and non-living things alike.

“But the woman was young, and unpracticed. What say she of the powers that be? She did not know how to summon them. She did not know how she could outwit or out-charm a fairy. She did not know even if it was possible. In truth she was afraid, and longed for comfort as deeply as safety. She tightened her hands on her husband’s waistcoat, the softness of the wool soothing her mind, and wrapped it carefully around her and the babe. The memory of her husband and his love bolstered her spirit and cleared her mind. She could not fight the fairy, but perhaps she could reason with it. Fairies were wicked, but they were weak to games and bets.

“With her husband’s coat wrapped around her, she stepped out of the shadows, striding forward with confidence she did not feel to the kitchen, where the fairy was crouched.

“But the fairy did not stir.

“She looked at it strangely, having expected it to react immediately to the sounds of her footsteps, but it did not move. It only scowled deeply at the door, thin lips curled and porcelain-white skin purple in rage.

“‘Horrible humans!’ it screeched, banging its gnarled fists on the floor. ‘Anticipated my tricks, and fled from the house! Bah! I have waited for hours; I shall wait no longer. I will return tomorrow at the set of the sun, and descend upon them then.’ And then the fairy ran from the house, disappearing into the darkness of the forest.

“The woman was shocked. She had made no effort to conceal herself, after the shadows, and yet the fairy had not noticed her. She realized clearly that her husband’s spirit, caught in the threads of his coat, had protected her and her babe, and the fairy could not see through it. She resolved to stay wrapped up in the coat until the fairy grew bored of her home and left her in peace.

“For weeks, the woman kept her and her infant wrapped in the coat. It was with her when she slept, and when she worked, and when she ate. She kept herself secure in the heaviness of the worn wool, and over time the fairy did grow bored of waiting, coming to the house less and less until it did not come at all. Still she wore the coat, as wearing it brought her strength, brought her comfort.

“When her husband finally returned from sea, she ran to him, embracing him tightly and settling in his warmth, his scent. He carried the security of the waistcoat tenfold, and she had touched him only for minutes.

“When she told him of the fairy and the waistcoat, he was glowing in his pride of her. ‘You are as bright as any of the stars,’ he told her, cupping her face gently. ‘Fairies are evil, wretched creatures, who have been blinded to love. By wearing my waistcoat you shrouded yourself in a spirit the fairy could not see, and so it could not harm you. Your faith and love outwitted the bitter heart of the fairy.’”

No one speaks for several minutes after Lance finishes, struck silent by the captivating stillness in the room, the magic present from the story.

“That’s the story my Nana would tell me when she was teaching me how to sew, how to knit,” Lance says, breaking the silence. “She told me not to make the stitches too tight or there wouldn’t be room for love to settle in the clothing. And it just — it makes me feel safer, I guess. To be wearing other people’s clothes.”

“That’s beautiful,” Shiro says, smiling softly. Lance smiles back.

“Your Nana?” Pidge questions. “I would’ve thought you’d call her Abuela.”

“Well,” Lance says, in a startlingly good Scottish accent. “The McClain half ‘a me family had to come from somewhere, eh, lass?”

“I didn’t know you were Scottish,” Keith says quietly. It does make sense — McClain is a very Scottish name, now that he thinks of it — but somehow he’d never considered it.

“His mom’s side is,” Hunk chimes in. “That’s why he’s so freckly.”

Lance chuckles. “Yep. Only my Nana was born there, though. She fled to Cuba to escape my shithead grandfather when she was pregnant with my mom. She grabbed her passport and her purse and hauled ass to the airport in the middle of the night, and chose the first and cheapest flight available, which on that particular day was to Cuba. Lucky for her it ended up working, and now I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

“She sounds awesome,” Pidge says.

“She is. She taught me how to shoot, too.”

“I’d like to meet her, when we get to Earth,” Allura declares.

“Oh, she’ll love you, ‘Llura. Badass leader of an intergalactic revolution? You’re the coolest thing she can conceptualise.”

Allura looks pleased at the compliment.

“She’ll love all of you, in fact,” Lance continues. “Almost as much as she loves me. I’m her favourite.”

“You’re everyone’s favourite,” Coran says, and no one can really disagree.

———

based on this post

#i just wanted an excuse to write out that folk tale i’ll be real #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #klance #team as family #keith kogane #hunk garrett #pidge holt #takashi shirogane #princess allura #coran #space dad coran #dorky team #brown-eyed lance #autistic lance #dramatic lance #storyteller lance #my writing #fic #longpost #fluff #scottish cuban lance

[ocdeeznut]

Some character tidbits for my upcoming fic >:3

(Early days, so this is all subject to tweaks and change.)

Lance Mcclain: - 21, recent graduate from the mammalian biology program at Zedtech. California living since he was 10, hobbyist swimmer who loves the heat but can’t take the humidity. Excitable, easy going and readily swept along, he's a fast thinker with a keen, sharp-witted understanding of the world.

Keith Kogane: - 22, part-time mechanic and a sanctuary employee at VOL. Responsible for collection operations and animal/ habitat structure transfer. Not as good with people as he is with cars and cats. Polite and (sometimes) punctual, he comes across quiet but well mannered. Struggles sometimes with being too passionate about the cause - he never knows when to quit.

Takashi Shirogane: - 28, long term employee of VOL and local legend in the West-Texan town he lives in. The man who befriended 'Di', a melanated mountain lion that took a dive in her health when her former sponsor abandoned her. The two have been fast friends for almost 10 years. Keith's Adoptive brother who strives always to not only see the best in people, but to nurture it.

Allura Alfor: 24, successor to her father's sanctuary. Former astrophysics student turned full-time business owner, finance manager and coordinator following a tragedy in her family. She struggles to find time to bond with the animals, and respects that their residing mountain cats simply don't know her well enough to enjoy her company. She leaves the hands-on work to her trusted employees.

Tsuyoshi ‘Hunk' Garett: 20, in his last year of college and currently on a year-long transfer to Massachusetts while he chases an engineering degree. He was Diagnosed late in life with dyscalculia, and possesses the uncanny ability to measure parts and tools down to the half-inch with just his naked eye. Theoretical mathematics is his jam. Sums.. sums are not his jam.

Katie 'Pidge' Holt: 18, gifted student in her last year of high school, aiming for placement in Zedtech's interface programming unit. An aptitude for coding and sums is challenged by her tendency to lose sight of the bigger picture. Met Hunk and Lance on an 'excelling students' tour of the university during their first year, where the work they were doing inspired her to follow her heart, despite her family's reservations about her moving out of state for college.

#odesrambles #voltron #keith kogane #pidge holt #princess allura #hunk garrett #vld #voltron fanfiction #takashi shirogane #lance mcclain

[quadballz]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘; arc one

I. 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚

next: ࿔*:･ﾟi. | table of contents

THE MISSION was supposed to be simple— a quick infiltration to gather some intel and search for the Holts, maybe free a few prisoners if they had the chance. Albeit simple, the mission was still risky and Allura had decided (with much forethought) that pairing Keith and Lance together would be their course of action. A terrible choice that could have been avoided with little to no hindsight had Allura not been insistent that the paladins had to get along. That insistence, of course, was what had gotten them into that mess.

"We have to take a left! No... a right! Wait, yeah, left!" Lance vacillated through grit teeth as he and Keith looked through the corridors that surrounded them. "Well which is it?!" spat Keith while trying to pull up the map, to no avail, "we aren't getting anywhere closer to the main deck! Dammit! I knew I shouldn't have trusted you with the map!" Lance scoffed as he slapped his arm, making the map that hovered over it visible for a few seconds before fizzing out into nothingness.

"You can't even get the map out!" Lance pointed out, smacking his arm again to get a mere blip of the screen which disappeared yet again afterward, "Quiznak!" Keith let out a short, dry laugh while pressing himself against the wall of one of the corridors. "How was I supposed to know that the signal would get jammed?" Keith sighed as static and Shiro's broken speech crackled through his helmet. "At this rate, we'll get caught." Keith missed the look of fear that crossed Lance's face as Keith fiddled with the screen on his arm.

"Yeah? Well, it'll be your fault, Mullet," scowled Lance, bristling under his armor as his hands clenched into fists, shaking. Keith grit his teeth, spinning around to face Lance with newfound vexation. "Oh, my fault? That's funny coming from you," Keith hissed as Pidge's voice sputtered around his helmet in short, quick-tempered bursts. With another sigh, Keith fidgeted with the screen on his arm, ignoring Lance's piercing gaze at the side of his head. "Fuck you." Keith didn't even bother looking up, paying little heed to Lance's footsteps which grew softer with each passing second.

If Shiro had been with them, Keith was sure Lance wouldn't have been as annoying as he had been. Maybe even tolerable. But Shiro was with Pidge and Hunk, all three of which were on the side of a nearby rock formation with the camouflaged Green Lion. And had he not been with Lance, Keith knew he would have been able to navigate through the Galra base without walking into an area where all their communications were jammed. Keith grumbled curses under his breath as he tried to get the map to clear up on the screen above his arm until he heard a set of frantic footsteps.

"Keith! Keith- there's a shit ton of noise coming from over there," Lance said, stumbling against the wall with blown eyes. Keith shot Lance a look of derision— was Lance not aware of the type of mission they were on? "Great, so we know not to go that way," Keith huffed as Lance raised his hands to his head in disbelief, and had he not worn his helmet, Lance would have pinched the skin between his brows. "No, no, it's cheering, Keith," Lance clarified, expecting Keith to come to the same conclusion. "Uh, okay? Nice," Keith replied with a deadpan, "anyways, let's head away from the noise, yeah?"

Lance groaned loudly and grabbed Keith by the back of his armor, dragging him in the direction of the cheers. It wasn't until Keith had heard them that he realized the implications. "A...fighting arena..?" Keith managed to say as Lance shook his head frantically. "Keith, look, I know you're all," Lance paused to gesture at Keith, "you. But we should keep this to ourselves. If Pidge found out her family was here... who knows what she'd do." As reluctant as Keith was to agree with Lance, Lance was right. Plus, Shiro wouldn't take it well in the slightest.

"Fine," Keith replied after breaking away from Lance's grip, slapping the gauntlet on his arm to try and pull up the map for the hundredth time. "Let's go back to-" Keith stopped short at the sound of heavy footsteps heading from two of the three corridors they were at the crossroads of. "Shit." Lance shot Keith a glance before looking at the empty corridor beside them. "This way," Lance whispered, just loud enough for Keith to hear, and rushed down the corridor with echoing footsteps that blended in with the others. Just as they reached the end, however, the looming shadows of Galran druids appeared.

Lance took a sharp breath, looking back and forth until he spotted a door a few feet away. "Go, go," he screeched as softly as he could, tugging on Keith's arm frantically. Keith quickly slapped his hand on the scanner and he and Lance slipped in before shutting the door immediately. "Lock it," Lance cried as Keith twisted his palm, sighing in relief when a lock symbol appeared over the scanner. "That was way too close," grumbled Keith as he tested his comms, receiving nothing but static, "but, of course, you thought going towards the noise was a smart idea." Lance grimaced and spun around to shove a finger against Keith's chest plate.

"I told you the map said to go that way before it went, poof!" Lance spat, shoving his finger harder against Keith's armor, and pushing him back against the wall. "The soldiers and the druids being there wasn't my fault." Keith scoffed, swatting away Lance's hand with a furrowed brow. "What? Are you saying it's my fault now?" Lance cradled his chin between his thumb and his forefinger, tilting it with a sarcastic hum before nodding. "Yeah. You were the one who was rushing me earlier! If we weren't practically running to our deaths, I could have been able to memorize the route!"

"Fuck off, Lance," Keith seethed with grit teeth, shoving Lance back, making the blue paladin stumble back harshly. "Come mierda, cabrón!" Keith had no time to react when Lance shoved him back against the wall, his hand slamming against a small control panel. A sharp, almost ear-piercing, beep stopped them in their tracks, Lance paling as the wall adjacent to them slowly started to rise. Without a second to waste, Keith and Lance pulled out their bayards, transforming them and holding them tight as they awaited what would come next with anxious stares.

"What the..." "...Quiznak."

The cheers they had at some point blocked out had now hit them at full force as they scanned the arena the room had overlooked. It was filled to the brim with Galra, their fucked-up excitement piercing the air. In the middle of the arena were two aliens, one drastically larger than the other. It was heartbreakingly obvious who was going to win. The smaller of the two aliens swung their weapon feverishly, heaving as they tried to hit the larger alien. It wasn't even moments later that the alien was nothing more than a corpse. Lance felt sick to his stomach.

"Keith?! Lance?! Come in!"

Lance was dead silent as Keith gritted his teeth, fists tightening until he could feel a sharp stinging in his palms. "This is Keith...we..." Keith faltered in remembering Lance's previous warnings about telling Pidge the truth. It was all futile when the crowd erupted into cheers so deafening, that the comms had heard them loud and clear. "Is there a... a fighting ring?" Pidge's weary voice made Keith shudder and it was Lance's turn to respond. "There's no way Mr. Holt and Matt are here," Lance began while crossing his arms, "they're too smart to be put in a fighting ring of all places." Pidge let out a soft 'yeah' that made Lance and Keith frown.

The cheers of the arena were still echoing through the comms and Keith fidgeted while waiting for Shiro to break the radio silence. "I... I didn't think this place was a...a fighting ring," Shiro finally managed to say, pain audibly visible in his voice. Lance could faintly hear Hunk comforting Pidge who was tapping away at her screen and when he glanced over at the glass, another alien had been pushed out into the arena— he turned back around before he could see much more. Allura was next to speak, clearing her throat awkwardly. "Paladins...maybe we should call off this mission."

"No! We can't! The information we got said a human was being held here!" cried Pidge through a voice crack, "what if it's Matt...or- or Dad? I can't leave them here. Even if it's not them, we're the defenders of the universe aren't we?" Allura sighed as the comms went silent again, "you're right, Pidge. Paladins, continue the mission. Keith, Lance, if you find Pidge's family, bring them to the castleship immediately." Lance half-smiled yet before he could say a witty comment or flirt with Allura, the echoing voice of a Galran announcer interrupted him. The language was translated through their helmets, making both Keith and Lance grimace.

"What a fight! Seems like our reigning champion lives another day," the announcer said as laughter bled through the glass of the windows, "but now, it's time for your favorite part of the evening!" If the cheers hadn't been deafening before, they certainly were now. Keith and Lance approached the glass as the cheering died down, and the announcer chuckled. "A glorious intermission led by the only one of her kind—" Pidge let out a 'huh?', "— the charming enchantress you all know and love..." There were wolf whistles and screams of delight as some fog rolled out into the arena, blocking their sight.

"Que mierda-What the hell is happening?!"

"The marchioness..."

"How the fuck would I know?!"

"...of the Galran Empire..."

"Both of you shut up!"

"...Lady Andromeda!"

The arena went dark, a single purple spotlight falling in the middle of it. There, in the dreadful beam of light, you laid. "Guys, you might want to see this," muttered Lance, pressing a button on the side of his helmet to show the others what he was seeing. He and Keith watched as around twelve other aliens surrounded you, trembling as you raised your head from your crossed arms. The silence that had just loomed over the arena ceased when an eerie rendition of Clair De Lune resounded through it, sending chills down Lance's spine. You were on your feet now, arms raised above your head before you lowered them down gracefully to the beat of the music.

Lance's gut wrenched when you raised your leg— the metal one that consisted of just a small coil that mirrored the shape of ballet shoe ribbons and the metal 'foot' built to resemble a ballet slipper. You were a ballerina and you were dancing in the middle of a fighting arena. Lance could already see his younger cousins performing their recitals in the living room with cheap tutus, pink stockings, and no ballet slippers in sight. He could feel the smile tugging at his cheeks when his cousins would try to imitate the ballerina on the tv behind them while looking back far too often. He could hear their laughter and their stupid little jokes as they tried to be as elegant as the prima ballerina.

Yet, there you were, the pinnacle of perfection.

Lance nor Keith could take their eyes off of you, even with the frantic conversation of their teammates in their helmets discussing their next moves to save you. You didn't seem fazed by the aliens rigidly dancing around you as you twirled softly onto your toes Keith couldn't help but wonder, for a moment, what it was like to dance with a prosthetic while Lance stared at the black fabric of your tutu which glittered like the stars that shone over Varadero. While Lance started thinking of his cousins again, Keith could feel anger bubbling in the bottom of his stomach as you danced without a care in the world— you reminded him too much of Shiro.

Shiro, who pretended that he wasn't affected by the constant fights or the need to survive as 'The Champion' in the middle of space. Shiro, who came back to Earth screaming and thrashing about the Galra only to get sedated and quarantined. Shiro, whose disappearance was covered up as a failure on his and his team's behalf. Shiro...who was completely silent. "Shiro?" asked Keith, the realization of Shiro's silence settling in, "what's wrong?" Shirt let out a choked noise and Keith's breath caught in his throat, "Shiro?!" Lance turned to Keith with a furrowed brow which Keith mirrored as Shiro took deep breaths over the comms.

"I... I know her. Lady Andromeda, I- she and Zarkon watched me fight once but I didn't know she was... human."

Keith turned from the glass, walking to the corner of the room to open a private comm between him and Shiro. Before he could, however, Lance shouted. It wasn't one of contempt like it usually was between him and Keith, but a guttural one that made Keith rush back over towards the glass. "Lance, what-" Lance had clamped a hand over his mouth so tightly that Keith was concerned that Lance might inadvertently suffocate himself. But when Lance pointed shakily at the arena, Keith (sadly) immediately understood why. At your feet was an alien, its head nowhere to be found.

"What the fuck."

Lance curled in on himself, breathing heavily as Keith's eyes stayed glued to the arena, watching as you moved toward the alien behind you, its arms shakily lifting you into the air. Not even moments later, its head was gone, tumbling down into the fog. It wasn't like Keith wasn't used to such violence (war was war after all), but you looked so unfazed that it made him sick. Any pity he held for you was gone as he grit his teeth, fists clenching as he stood and watched you send more innocent aliens to their deaths. Keith tore his eyes away from the glass before his anger got the best of him, pulling Lance along with him.

"We aren't going to save her," grumbled Keith as cries of confusion rang through the comms but he stayed firm in his judgment. "She's a lost cause. She could try and save those innocent aliens but she isn't! She's probably been brainwashed by Zarkon," Keith insisted as Lance stood, flabbergasted. "B-But Keith...she's still," Lance hesitated— it wasn't like Keith was wrong but there was something about the way you were dancing. Lance's gaze floated over to the arena where you leaned into an alien's arms, mouth moving just clearly enough to make out one word: sorry. You weren't doing this willingly, you couldn't have been.

And Lance wasn't going to leave you behind.

Lance grabbed Keith's arm just as he was unlocking the door of the room they had locked themselves into, a knot in his brow. "What Lance," asked Keith exasperatedly while Lance gnawed on the inside of his lip. With a deep breath, Lance pulled Keith over to the glass, forcing him to watch as you stood amidst a ring of aliens, not a spot of blood on your dress. But your ballet slippers were soaked in blood, a sickening hue of black. You slowly sunk in on yourself, wrapping your arms around your midsection as you gracefully sat in a circle of corpses. While the Galrans cheered and whistled, you looked up in the direction of the balcony they stood in, a strained smile on your face.

"WE HAVE TO SAVE HER."

#voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #voltron x reader #x reader #lance mcclain x reader #keith kogane x reader #takashi shirogane x reader #pidge gunderson x reader #katie holt x reader #hunk garrett x reader #allura x reader #matt holt x reader

[icypantherwrites]

Fic Update: Missing, Chapter Two

Food goo wasn’t the most appetizing thing but it was filling and light on the stomach too and while Lance’s didn’t feel upset there was no point in discovering he did in fact have a stomach bug and puking in front of everyone.

He winced at the thought.

No thank you.

The kitchen was empty when he arrived and pausing only to grab a bowl out of the cabinet and a spoon from the drawer Lance beelined right for the food goo machines. Supposedly they had flavors although if they were there they were incredibly subtle, but the one in the middle always tasted just a hair sweeter to him and it was that one he filled his bowl with, stomach giving a flip at the noise the goo made as it dispensed out of the machine and then the way it sort of…

Wiggled.

He swallowed thickly.

But it was just like jell-o. And Mamá used to make that for him when he was sick and it was the same concept. Just, minus actual flavor and the fun shapes when Mamá would pull out the cookie cutters and all of his siblings would come help make scenes and he’d feel better and—

Lance jammed a spoon of goo into his mouth as his eyes began to sting and an ache was returning to his chest and Dios, he missed them all so much.

But now wasn’t the right time to get homesick.

Lance’s eyes lowered to his goo.

It was never the right time to be homesick. It was selfish anyway as Allura and Coran had no home to return to and Pidge was still looking for her dad and there were millions of aliens who had been displaced or enslaved or even killed because of the war and at least he knew his family was back on Earth, safe and waiting for him.

So no more thinking about his family.

No more feeling tired or achy or possibly getting sick.

He just needed to concentrate on doing his best and helping the universe end the war so then everyone could be reunited with their families.

Read it here

#voltron #vld #fanfiction #fanfic #lance #langst #lance angst #lance whump #homesick lance #icypanther #icypantherwrites #missing

[sadhatter]

Obi (Akagami no Shirayukihime) x Reader

A/N: So this is my first fic back after 4 years hiatus. Please bear with me as I get into the rhythm again. xx

Also why are there no Obi fics on this site. I shall be the bringer of Obi Fics for all the Obi stans!!

Anime: Akagami no Shirayukihime | Snow White with the Red Hair

Pairing: Obi (Akagami no Shirayukihime) x Reader

Order: Pastry with Strawberry Jam

Warnings: Body Insecurity, smutty fluff

Blurb: Your a court herbalist, working alongside Shirayuki. Ever since Prince Zen appointed Obi to be Shirayuki's guard, you have been blessed with the opportunities of seeing this man on nearly a daily basis. Over time, you feel as there is something between the two of you but with your insecurities, you don't know if anything will ever become.

Word Count: 2460

(Y/N) POV

It was a tranquil week at the castle. Daily routines went smoothly. There were no unexpected visitors or last-minute contests—just peace.

"Hello, Pigeon." Well, that's what I thought anyway.

"Obi." No trace of amusement in my tone. While I did like having him around, he usually chose the worst times to be with me. "You could sound a little more pleased with my presence."

"And you could choose better times to grace me with your presence." I witted back to him as he climbed through the window to walk around the infirmary, looking and touching things like a kid. "Look, Obi, I have a lot I need to do today before Garak returns, so if you want to hang out later, I can, just not now."

I turned towards the desk, placing the pile of notebooks I had in my hands down. However, due to the sheer number, the top of the pile toppled forward, scattering the notebooks across the table and onto the floor on the other side, causing a slight sign to leave my throat.

"It looks like you could use some help," Obi said as he moved around the table and bent down to pick up what fell onto the ground while I cleaned up the scattered books.

"Obi, really—thank you—really, I'm okay." I interrupted my explanation as Obi stood back up and handed me the books that had fallen onto the ground. "Shouldn't you be with Shirayuki anyway?"

Shirayuki is the most recent addition to the Court Herbalists. She is very smart, very beautiful, and blessed with her beautiful bright red hair. She is also the reason Obi has been around the infirmary more often. Since Prince Zen appointed Obi to be Shirayuki's bodyguard in light of the rumors that were started, Obi and I have gotten to know each other better. But the looks he gives her are different from how he looks at me. I'm still trying to figure out how, but I know why. A common herbalist like me with no "assets" could never be with a "princess" bodyguard.

"She's with my master today. He thought after the past couple of weeks they had, they deserved a day away." That's right. It wasn't too long after they officially got together that more drama popped up, causing them to put a hold on their newfound romance.

"Hmm, okay then," I replied because I had started reading and filling out the different pharmaceutical documents. After the first document, I quickly fell into a rhythm of reading and filing. After reading and signing, I finally decided to look up from the desk, only for my eyes to meet with the man, who - apparently - still hadn't left. Our eyes connected (E/C) to gold, which almost seemed like time stopped. The slight swirls of green entwined with the gold made his eyes look like a beautiful flurry of gold flakes across a barren field. His eyes made mine feel like a swamp. I felt my cheeks rise with heat and my throat close with anxiety.

"How long have you been there?" I choked out through the slight opening and closing of my throat.

"I never left Pidge." Screw just my cheeks being red. Indeed, my whole face was red by now. I can guarantee there would be no difference if my face were buried in Shirayuki's hair.

"OKAY!" I said quickly and loudly while standing up, startling Obi and myself with my quick actions. "To the greenhouse," I Declared, kind of hoping Obi would see that I wanted to be alone.

"To the greenhouse," Obi said with a smile as he rose from his seat across the desk and started to follow me out the door.

"What?" I say with shock as I stop in my tracks suddenly, causing him to bump into my back.

"What?" He said with more confusion than anything. "Why are you going to the greenhouse?"

"Because you're going there?" he replied nonchalantly, staring confusedly at my shocked expression.

"You are allowed to be in here by yourself," I say, looking away from him while picking at the skin near my nails.

"I'm aware. Let's go." Fabric hit my face as my jacket fell into my arms. I looked up at the door to see Obi with a bright smile and his arm outstretched towards the sliding door. "It's chilly this time of year, so wear your jacket."

Maybe I wasn't delusional with my feelings. All this time, I thought he had feelings for Shirayuki. And while that may be true, a friend doesn't stay with someone for nearly an hour doing nothing while the other does paperwork. Right? Then again, Mitsuhide and Kiki are always just there when Prince Zen is doing paperwork. But Obi isn't my bodyguard. UGH. Far too many thoughts were running through my head because, before I knew it, we were at the entrance to the greenhouse.

I slide the greenhouse door open, waiting for Obi to enter before closing it behind him. "So, pidge, what are we doing here?"

"I just need to harvest a few different herbs before they aren't viable," I told him, moving towards the different types of herbs and picking out what I needed. "Obi, you don't have to be here. This is a pretty tedious task for someone who-"

"Sounds like you don't want me here, pidge."

"Please stop calling me that."

"Why Pidge? Does it annoy you, pidge?" The more he said it, the more it got on my nerves. With the countless questions that run through my head about this man, this is probably the question that hits my gut in a way I didn't think it would. Why does he call me Pigeon? As far as I was concerned, they were beautiful, majestic birds that symbolized love and luck. And I am not attractive or majestic.

"Just please stop," I said quietly. I was changing the topic while moving through the large greenhouse.

"Why, though, you're my pigeon."

"ENOUGH, OBI," I snapped, causing both of us to be shocked.

"(Y/N).."

"Do you think I'm beautiful and majestic? Cause I'm not! In a world full of pigeons, I'm a seagull. So is this fun for you? Watching me squirm under your presence?" I screamed, even throwing myself into silence as shock and terror ran through my veins.

Why did I snap? Pigeon isn't even that bad of a name. But with these feelings and thoughts racing through my mind, what else was I expected to do? He's always there. Always with me. So why was I so angry?

"(Y/N), I'm s-"

"I'll do this later," I said before sprinting away from Obi, away from an argument, away from hurt, away from my problems.

"Am I stupid!" I half yelled half groaned as I held a glass of liquor in my hand and my feet up on the couch.

"Yeah, probably. Why would you yell at poor Obi for a name like that?" Garak told me, also in the same position as me but on the lounge across from myself.

"I DON'T KNOW!" I groaned into the pillow I threw onto my face. "I really like him, boss."

"I know."

"He makes me really happy, and he makes me laugh. I'm always amazed by the way he can jump through the trees. He truly is charming." I slurred slightly, feeling a little intoxicated. While I was really good at holding my liquor, the liquor that's in the boss's secret stash is a whole new breed of drink.

"Oh my lord (Y/N). Just tell him? What harm can it do?" Garak told him when she heard the bell ring, asking for someone's attendance.

"It can literally do all the harm in the world. I'm not pretty enough to be admired the way people admire pigeons," I groaned again as she scoffed at me and walked towards the door.

"(Y/N), you have someone here to see you," Garak told me as she walked back into the room properly and sat back on the couch, taking another large swig of her drink.

"You're in better shape than me."

"But this isn't a patient that requires my specialties." Confused by her proclamation, I got up and went to the door. Her specialties? She was the head herbalist; what wouldn't require her "Specialties?"

"Hey, pidge." Just answered my own question. "Can we please talk?" My face nearly exploded from the heat that rushed to my cheeks and ears. My mind running a thousand miles an hour, trying to find a way out of this information.

"Sorry, Obi, I have a lot of stuff here. I need to catch u-"

"NO, SHE DOESN'T, TAKE HER OBI!" I heard my boss yell. When I turned to give her a death glare, she was already staring at me in amusement. I turned back to Obi and saw the small, sad smile he dawned on his lips. Guilt immediately ran through my veins.

"Shall we go for a walk? It's a nice night?" He asked gently and quietly. I examined his posture, which seemed nervous compared to his usual carefree posture.

"Sure."

"Pidge, I-"

"Obi, why do you call me pigeon?" I asked nonchalantly. On the way outside, I concluded that if this conversation were to happen, it would be better to get it over and done with.

"(Y/N), why don't you think you're beautiful?"

The question caught me off guard. Very off guard. I completely forgot I told him I wasn't beautiful when I snapped. The question blared through my ears like a ringing alarm that wouldn't stop. My whole life has been about helping people and making them feel better. Many of these people are women and young girls, all with flawless skin, light freckles, and beautiful bodies. After every day of serving these women, I would go back to my room and cry. I can be wise and kind, but nothing will ever make me as beautiful as those women.

"Like I said, I'm a seagull in a world full of pigeons." I stared out across the castle gardens with no hint of joy coming from my lips or eyes. "When I look around and see women like Kiki and Shirayuki, I find it very hard to see the natural beauty in myself. Their vibrancies are blinding, and the shine makes it hard to see my reflection."

The words spilled from my lips like they had been there for years, waiting to be released. It felt relieving to tell someone these grievances, but then I was reminded that I was spilling this thought to the man I love. The ball is in his court, and I hate that his next move dictates my own. I am utterly in his hands, and he's fully aware of it.

"(Y/N), I'm not meant to tell anyone this, but when I first came here, it was to keep Shirayuki and my master apart. I've done terrible things to people, unforgivable things." He grabbed my hand and stopped me in my tracks; as the words flowed from his lips, the clarity slowly washed over me. "I'm saying that not all of us are perfect b-"

"You are perfect to me, Obi." I quickly interrupted him, and then the point of his words hit me.

"You perfect to me, pidge. Your eyes, your hair, your skin, your body. It's all perfect to me." His hand slowly reached my cheek, his thumb grazing the skin slightly. "So who cares if the other girls have more vibrant hair or clearer skin. Because to me, you're my pigeon, beautiful and majestic."

That's all it took. The words aren't complex, but they carry profound meaning. Obi's words and meaning were as beautiful as his golden eyes. I grabbed his cheeks, pulling him towards me and smashing my lips onto his. Desperate and needing, but lustful and clarifying. His hands grabbed onto either side of my hips and slowly pushed me against a pillar that was nearby. His hands moved up my body to my neck as mine wrapped into his hair, slowly pulling on his short, brown strands.

One of his hands grazed over the front of my throat and gripped it slightly, not enough to cut off air, but enough to show me that I belonged to him. The motion made me gasp slightly, causing him to pull away.

"Is that okay?" He asked, concern laced in his voice.

"Shut up." I quickly pulled him back towards me, pushing my body further into him than I thought humanly possible. Our lips connected like they were made for each other.

I felt his tongue push slightly on my lips. Mine parting to allow access, our tongues and lips moving together like an in-sync dance. Arms and hands sliding over each other's bodies as if this were the last time we would feel each other. The desperation was clear as day. We had both been waiting far too long for this.

"Ahem." I heard a cough, quickly forcing Obi and me apart quicker than when I moved us together. We quickly turn our bodies to see Prince Zen and Shirayuki, hand in hand, returning from their day out.

"MASTER! Did you have a good trip?" Obi asked like nothing had happened, slowly strolling up to the Prince and throwing his arm around his shoulders. "I hope you guys used protection."

"I think I should be asking you guys that." The Prince responded while shoving Obi off his body. From what Obi told me, it must've been hard for the Prince to trust him with Shirayuki again. Solidifying my feelings for the man, he proved his loyalty to the Prince and earned his title as an aide to the crown.

The Prince pulled on Shirayuki's hand, leading them both past Obi and me. Shirayuki and I laid eyes on each other, and I caught a smile from the redhead. I'll be getting a bit of an interrogation tomorrow. My eyes moved back towards Obi. I saw him slowly returning to me while keeping his eyes on his master and the one he was in charge of protecting as they moved into the castle.

"For future reference,"

Obi and I both jumped, turning around and seeing Kiki and Mitsuhide at the other end of the outdoor corridor. Mitsuhide tried to hide his laughter, and Kiki stood blank-faced with arms crossed.

"Maybe find a room next time." Kiki finished as she dragged a laughing Mitsuhide passed up into the castle behind The Prince and Shirayuki.

"I think I might make do with that advice," Obi said. Before I could ask what he meant, I felt myself thrown over his shoulder.

"OBI!"

"C'mon pigeon, we have some catching up to do."

#snowhitewiththeredhair #obi snowwhitewiththeredhair #fluff #smut #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #my fic #romance anime

[corancorantheswaggyman]

vld characters music headcanons

I'm writing a band fic (original i know) and I started thinking about what the main characters all listen to so I had to write it out

Lance:

We know he’s a pop / rap / r&b girlie. He loves what was cool in the 90s and 2000s. Fugees, Britney, Backstreet Boys, Amy Winehouse, Katy Perry etc.

Will randomly start dancing the choreography from his favorite music videos

Also loves classical music

Lance and Hunk listen to a lot of the same music since they grew up together

Keith:

Emo. You saw it coming. He has the Kellin Quinn hair.

Country - and not just our og emo boy Johnny Cash. Man will defend Dolly Parton with his entire heart. 

Nu metal, which everyone makes fun of him for. 

Ends up loving pop and r&b after Lance and Hunk make him listen to it

Pidge:

Electronic, obviously. Anything that goes wowowowowow m chk m chk beep boop. Ranges from obscure ass hard techno beats to Grimes

Also totally vibes with punk and pop punk. Black flag but also blink 182, yknow?

Weird metal / math rock / djent stuff

Hunk:

80s synth pop/rock!! Eurythmics, New Order, Depeche Mode, David Bowie

Modern alt pop - WILLOW, Clairo, IDK How

Overpowered singers - Queen, Nina Simone, Mariah Carey, Ariana Grande, Lizzo

He and Pidge jam out to old punk music together.

Shiro:

No one expects it, but he loves grunge. (He played rhythm guitar for his grunge band in high school)

He’s a huge Riot Grrrl enjoyer

Shiro and Keith listen to each others music a lot, though Shiro would never admit he likes it.

He and Hunk both love shoegaze.

Allura:

Idk what kind of music they had on Altea so this is just gonna be Earth stuff

She loves Florence + the Machine.

Pidge introduces her to electronic art pop and she ends up liking it a lot

Likes a little bit of everything, but her favorite genre is punk rock.

Coran:

Gets super into psychedelic music. Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, you name it.

Loves disco music. And dancing. He gets pretty disappointed when he finds out that people don’t go to the disco anymore.

FUNK. 

They ALL love MARINA and Fleetwood Mac. Those artists are irresistible and I will die on this hill.

#voltron #vld headcanons #lance mcclain #keith kogane #pidge gunderson #hunk garrett #takashi shirogane #coran hieronymus wimbleton smythe #allura princess of altea

[the-kittens-of-vol-tron]

LANCE BEING A BADASS AND USING HIS SWORD FORM IN FRONT OF KEITH FOR THE FIRST TIME !!!!

Hehehe yes!!!!

Little side note; I know Lance's bayard changes in season 5(?) but I can't really remember where Keith was so I'm writing this as Keith is with the blade when it happened (that may be right or may not be idc its fanfiction)

TW: Mentions of death and killing (they're in battle)

Now Enjoy~

-----

It was supposed to be a smooth mission, keyword; smooth. All of them weren't nearly as surprised as they used to be. The Galra were around every corner at this point.

They were getting into the heart of the battle; the heart of the war. Every day they got closer and closer to Haggar; always to have her slip through their fingers at the last second.

It was more tiring than annoying.

The Blade of Marmora was working closely with Voltron. Keith still worked with them most of the time, leaving the rest of them to pilot the lions; but they were in battle together more often than not.

The battle was like most of them. The Galra appeared out of nowhere, they were surrounded, they formed Voltron, they won and they worm holed out of there. It was the same until it wasn't.

They were caught outside of their lions, forced to fight on the ground in unknown terrain. It wasn't the first time it happened but it was the first time there seemed to be no end to the Galra's that ran at them.

When one of them took one out, three more replaced it. It was a swarm of them. Almost as if this was their final attempt to put an end to Voltron.

The team was split up. Some of the blades and Allura ended up on the east side, fighting. Shiro ended up with Hunk on the south, a couple of blades mixed in with them. Pidge was to the North, Kolivan, and Krolia helping her hold her ground. Which left Keith and Lance backed into a corner on the west side.

Both of them had lost track of how long they had been fighting. How many bodies littered the floor around them. They tuned out how their muscles ached and throbbed, the sweat that clung to their skin.

Lance focused on shooting down the soldiers that kept rounding the corner while Keith picked off the ones that slipped by.

Lance took a step back, bumping into the wall. "Shit! Guy's Keith and I are pinned down!"

"We'll try and get to you two as soon as we can!" Allura's voice crackled over their speakers, grunting a bit as she swung her whip.

"Try to keep them at bay you guys! We'll get over to you as soon as we clear our side." Shiro's voice, which usually was solid with confidence, wavered a bit.

"Roger roger," Lance fired his gun a couple more times, switching his coms to private. "How are you holding up mullet?"

"Could be better," he swung his sword forward, placing his foot on the Galra's chest and pushing him off the metal. "What about you sharpshooter?"

Lance released a breath he didn't know he was holding, squeezing his eyes shut briefly. "Just peachy. Still hoping that I'll wake up in my childhood bed and this is all just a weird dream."

Keith chuckled a bit, sidestepping out of the way of a soldier's staff. "I wish this was a dream."

As the battle dragged on Keith's breathing became a bit laborious. All the training in the world still couldn't prepare you for a never-ending supply of an enemy. Lance's fatigue was starting to become apparent and he gripped his gun a bit tighter.

The metal burned under his grip, even his gun could only handle so much before it got too hot to continue firing. He wasn't sure how many more shots he had left before it was unusable.

Seven. He had seven shots left. After his seventh shot, his gun buckled under him, the metal jamming against itself. He nearly dropped it due to the intensity of the heat. "No! No no no no!!" He stared down at the bayard; now back to its resting shape.

"Lance? What's going on?!" Keith swung on a couple more soldiers; clearly about to get overwhelmed.

Lance shook out each hand for a moment; he needed to figure something out. He and Keith were both going to be killed or taken at any moment. He looked back down at his bayard,

It quickly lit up, shaping into his sword; a weapon he had only really practiced with at night when everyone had gone to sleep. He wasn't sure why he never used it more; maybe he was more confident with his rifle.

Whatever the reason he didn't have time to dwell on it and he lunged forward.

"Lance?! What are you-" Keith was cut off as he clashed his sword with another one.

"Fight now, talk later!" Lance swung his sword at two enemies, quickly cutting them down. He still had more energy than Keith so he used it to his advantage.

He was making progress, stepping in front of Keith a bit, picking up where he was slipping. Keith subconsciously stepped back, taking the little moment he could to breathe as Lance began to clear a path. Slowly thinning out the soldiers.

Keith ended up falling on his knees, his lungs aching for a break as Lance stayed fighting. Keith watched him, trying to make his body stand back up and fight but failed each time.

"Just relax mullet! Don't need you passing out on me." He knocked a gun out of a Galrans hand, quickly picking it up. His left arm shot a bit shaky while his right arm continued to slice away.

Eventually, almost a miracle, the Galra stopped coming. Neither of them were sure if it was because they got rid of all of them or if Haggar realized they were losing too many of their own to continue on.

Whatever the case Lance swung down on the last solder, yanking his sword out with a small grunt. He looked around, finally taking in the sheer number of Galrans they just fought.

He turned to look at Keith, who was still trying to get his body to stand. "Come on, we gotta get out of here." He kneeled down, wrapping Keith's arm around his shoulder and hoisting him up. "I don't want to be here for round two."

Keith grumbled something under his breath, letting Lance nearly drag him out of the hallway, towards the red lion.

"What was that?" Lance had put his bayard back on its hoister, holding the gun he took with his free hand; just as a precaution.

"You have a sword?" Keith said between his breaths.

Lance gave him a smirk as they exited a set of doors, Red waiting for them. "It's an Altean Broadsword thank you very much."

"When?"

"A bit ago," he ran up the ramp into Red, letting Keith slump on the small bed in the back. "Guess you're not the only one with a cool blade."

"I still have my mom's blade." His eyes slipped closed, exhaustion finally catching up.

"Yeah," he pushed a lock of Keith's hair back behind his ear. "it's pretty cool." He ran back to the controls, "let's get out of here Red."

-----

I hope you like it :D

Thank you <333333

#lance #lance vld #lance voltron #keith #keith vld #keith voltron #klance #you can read it as friendly or romantic #my writing #lance being a badass #it was cooler in my head #im still learning how to write battle scenes #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #answer anon #thank you #:D #no beta #long post

[bosspigeon]

Contractbound au has me in a vice grip pls send help

#pidge babbles #THERE IS A SINGULAR CHAPTER #SOMEONE PLS TELL ME TO CHILL #oc: jude marlowe #anyway im coming to realize im literally just making offshoots of my wayhaven detectives for fun and me time #its not plagiarism if im stealing my own ocs #jude is an arlo offshoot except he's primarily a bottom #fritz is definitely a chase offshoot #the guy im giving to kazu eventually is for sure plucked off the juni tree #tbh i might bring cricket back #ANYWAY: hellhound #jude i mean #started doodling his look and ive got some fun concepts #going very lycanthrope for the look that mix of man and monster is my jam #should i go more eyes #then he and amir can match #but god i have this image in my head of amir with jude in his hellhound form on a leash <3 #wanna draw it #gonna try to draw amir first #sorry i did not write much today i had work and then helped my friends move after

[justmultifandom]

Kidge summer event 2023

Day 26: Road trip

When Pidge jolted awake as the car stopped abruptly, knocking her forward hard and hitting her torso and cheek on the dashboard.

“Fuck!”: She exclaimed, rubbing her cheek and rubbing her eyes, confused and also quite disoriented at having been woken up so abruptly.

"Shit, sorry!": Keith, next to her, looked at her worried, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“It's… everything is fine…”: she replied, rubbing her forehead and looking at the traffic on the highway where they were jammed. The cars were at a standstill, their red stop lights blazing brightly and their horns blaring wildly. Pidge turned, looking at the boy questioningly.

“Bad accident”: he explained: “We are jammed in traffic for at least 67 kilometers, they just said it on the radio. Good shit, right?”

She huffed, covering her eyes with her hand from the annoying sun.

“How long did I sleep?” she asked, checking the time on her phone.

"The first time I turned around and saw you sleeping it was more or less half past ten": he looked at her with a smile, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel: "It's a good thing you couldn't sleep in the car! You slept for three hours!”

“I swear, it's uncomfortable to sleep in the car!”: she insisted.

“Am I wrong or were you the person who fell asleep everywhere in the castle of the lions?!”: he laughed at her, taking her for a ride.

“Emo boy, stop teasing your girlfriend!”: she rolled her eyes with a smirk: “I'm starving!”

"It was you who had put the cooler with the food in the car": he pointed out: "You should know where it is"

“Indeed I know”: she grimaced, taking off her seat belt and taking from the seats behind her a rather large square container and two plastic forks.

“I thought you made some sandwiches”: he chuckled, while she raised an eyebrow doing the feigned offense: “Well, what is it? Even Hunk says you're a terrible cook!"

“Everyone's a terrible cook to Hunk!”: Pidge pointed out, opening the container and revealing cold rice topped with ham, cheese, tuna, and other toppings: “And FYI, the lasagna you ate at Christmas I cooked it all”

“No way!”: Keith made a surprised expression:” I thought it was your mother! I even complimented her!"

She started laughing, mixing the rice salad and handing it to him.

“I can eat by myself, you know that right?”: he chuckled, starting to eat.

“It was just fun…”: She shrugged.

I had already written it when @kidge-planet changet the day but if you want you can read that like a married life AU

#voltron legendary defender #keith voltron #keith x pidge #kidge #voltron pidge #keidge #kidge summer event

[poor-sickies]

irreconcilable differences

Read my post first! - TLDR: I'm releasing unfinished drafts!

Long prologue, fic is under the cut! (sorry about that)

Okay, I’m not sure if I’ll continue this or not, but it has been sitting on my drafts for literally five years, has gone through many edits, and I just want it out. Will I ever finish it/edit it? Maybe. If I do I’ll put it on AO3. If not, have this unfinished version. Edits were very inspired by my bf’s elbow surgery - things like this always make me wonder if the universe wants to curse me for writing whump, or urge me to keep doing it.

I swear this one will be the death of me. There’s fanart and everything. I might post it one day.

Initial goals with this one: This is a fanfic that started out as me just wanting Keith really miserable, and just wanting to grasp the concept of a nearly permanent injury. He broke his arm really badly, he knows how bad this is. In the back of his mind, he’s worrying if his arm will still work after recovering. Then I decided to turn it into angst - Keith living with the blades and “running away” from voltron, Pidge knowing about his kamikaze moment at the end of S4, Shiro finding out about that, and just putting everyone in a room to deal with their emotional stuff. Just angst in general. Ends with Keith writing to Shiro after a huge fight, sort of apologising and updating on his medical state. This is also the fanfic of Shiro yelling at Kolivan about the Blade’s protocols, which took me five years to get one single scene that I liked. It plays around with the Blade’s modus operandi and morals, and Voltron’s own view on that - and how much they might disagree, which I feel could have been something to explore in the show.

Plot: Set during S4 and S5. Double (or triple?) agents screw up with Marmora mission, also interfering with a Voltron mission. Stuff blows up where it wasn’t supposed to blow up, and Keith gets badly injured. Shiro wants to get to the bottom of this, so he sort of interrogates Keith soon after he wakes. Meanwhile, Pidge is sulky at Keith, as she knows he was about to off himself a while ago, and a difficult conversation ensues. Mission - it was a small Voltron Coalition outpost - the “blade members” had sent a message, warning Blades that the outpost was getting attacked by the Galra (this is an important, strategic outpost, and it’s important that the Galra don’t get it). They call specifically for high rank backup - that means Kolivan, their original target. But Keith goes instead, while Kolivan had stayed behind for some reason. When Keith goes in, the outpost is already taken over, and he’s attacked by the double / triple agents. Keith sends a message, but Kolivan doesn’t receiveit, because the comms were sabotaged.

There’s more, this is part one, I suppose. I have more written, but I need it to be more intelligible before I post it.

Keith feels himself being manhandled in and out of the ship by Kolivan, legs moving on its own accord, and not very efficiently, judging by Kolivan’s arms wrapping around his back tighter to keep him up. There’s voices around him, frantic, stressed, but he can’t make out the words. His ears are still ringing, and he can still feel the aftershock of his whole arm being twisted backwards, ligaments snapping and bones breaking instantly, making a nasty crunch in his shoulder first, and then in his elbow, when the Galra soldier had twisted more.

That moment, he had looked behind him, making out the Galra uniform, and the expression on the face he stared at wasn’t one of kinship. Keith’s hadn’t even begun to process his own confusion, when a cybernetic hand grabbed Keith's wrist and crushed it like a couple of twigs in his grasp. A knife had been jammed in his shoulder, and taken off quickly with a downward motion.

What followed was probably half an hour of trying to keep himself alive.

Now, the blood loss was certainly making itself known, with black spots dancing in front of his eyes. Adrenaline cursing through his veins, Keith was barely keeping himself up, even with help, and the pain was so indescribable he was incapable of forming words. His right arm screams with pain, muscles and ligaments throbbing in tandem. His chest aches where they kicked him, making every breath burn.

It briefly goes through his head how badly injured he is, before he finally succumbs to exhaustion.

*

When he wakes up again, it's slow and gradual. His elbow throbs with pain, and all of the other aches make themselves known quick enough. He wants to rub his eyes, but when he attempts to lift his left arm, pain explodes in his shoulder.

His vision blacks out, and tears immediately pool in his eyes. He grits his teeth and exhales, trying to get through the worst if it. When it's finally more bearable, he realizes his arm hadn't moved an inch when he'd tried to move it. With his good hand, he fumbles around in the dark, touching his shoulder first, then moving his hand towards his chest, where he feels a stinging sensation. His arm is in a sling, and from the tight sensation, wrapped in many layers of bandages. His breath hitches, and his fingers trail the path down his arm, until he feels a splinter, holding his wrist straight. His chest is bandaged too, and breathing takes a little more effort than usual. And to his dismay, he feels the prick of a needle sticking out the back of his good hand. He tries to ignore that.

Opening his eyes, he winces at the bright lights of the infirmary. A twinge of homesickness hits him when he realizes he’s at the Castle of Lions.

On his left, he hears a rustling sound.

"Keith...?" Shiro voice sounds, echoing a little, traced with exhaustion. "Are you awake?"

"Shiro...?" Keith slurs out, finding his voice not fully responsive. He rolls over carefully in bed, towards where Shiro seems to be, and gasps when his whole arm protests.

"Hey, don’t move," Shiro says, much more alert now, and Keith can hear his slow footsteps towards him, before he comes into his field of vision. He’s wearing his black undersuit, and has deep dark circles around his eyes. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit," Keith confesses, with a weak exhale.

Shiro’s hand finds his good shoulder, and rubs soft circles there. Keith closes his eyes and focuses on the motions the best he can.

"My - my arm, " he says, making his best to sound coherent. "How bad?..."

Shiro doesn't answer right away.

"Bad," he finally sighs. "Compound fractures, torn ligaments... Kolivan was hoping to get you here and into a cryopod immediately, but unfortunately one of the big crystals that powers them up is gone. Allura, Hunk, Lance and Pidge went out to get more."

"Bad timing to get this fucked up then," Keith chuckles humourlessly.

“Never a good time,” Shiro chides disapprovingly. “At least we still had some good painkillers, though they’ve probably worn off by now, huh?”

Keith shivers - if this is what’s like with painkillers, he doesn’t want to imagine without. “Uh, yeah, definitely,” he groans.

“You also lost a lot of blood, so it’s normal if you’re feeling weak. We had to stitch you up too,” Shiro adds. Keith glances at Shiro’s left arm, noticing the bandage peeking from the inside of his elbow. It’s hard to feel lucky right now, but by now, Keith knows he would be screwed if he had gone to space without an universal donor like him. He’d hug Shiro right now if he didn’t feel this bad. Guilt twinges at the bottom of his stomach. His eyes fill with tears again.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Shiro reassures, “you’ll be fine. I’ll go get Coran to give you something for the pain, yeah?”

Keith tries to nod, but he’s still dizzy, so he just grunts in acknowledgement. He knows if he tries to speak he’ll probably just start crying.

“I’ll be right back,” Shiro says, before walking, well, pretty much running out.

And Keith goes under again.

*

"Do you remember what happened?" Shiro asks.

It’s a few hours later. The Castle is practically deserted, with pretty much the whole team on the mission to retrieve the cryopod crystals. Coran had stopped by to give him some painkillers and check on him, and Shiro just brought some tea, and the alien equivalent of toast. Keith doesn’t eat - even with the painkillers, the pain is bad enough to make him nauseous. He sips the tea carefully, and even just that seems to sap all of his energy.

"I - we received a message from a fellow blade. The Kellan outpost was going to be taken over. We had two Blades stationed there… they attacked as soon as we left our ship. I - I don't remember much else."

“They attacked you? The guys that supposedly belonged to the Blades?”

“Yeah. Soon as I showed up.”

"Do you remember getting here? Kolivan brought you."

Keith nods.

“Keith… we need to know… what were those guys doing? Why were members of the Blade of Marmora blowing up the Kellan base? What did they know?” Shiro asks.

“It wasn’t part of any plan… I don’t understand. Those guys must have gone rogue, I- I really don’t know, Shiro,” Keith sighs, closing his eyes.

“Did you call for backup? When you realized something was wrong?”

“Yeah,” Keith rasps out. “I thought they’d received my message. But our comms were tampered with,” he says, shaking his head, “only realized that later.” He puts the tea cup back on the tray.

“But Kolivan knew you were in there,” Shiro insists, “why didn’t they come in for you?”

“I don’t know, Shiro.” Keith grits his teeth, and opens his eyes again to stare pointedly at Shiro. “I haven’t really had the time to ask Kolivan what exactly was their strategy after that. Maybe they wanted to play it safe, since a couple of guys we thought we could trust had just managed to sabotage everything.”

Shiro sighs. He knows it’s no use to torture Keith with more questions, especially not in the state he was in. He had to get his answers elsewhere.

“Get some rest,” he says, gently. Keith’s eyes close again, and he grimaces painfully. “Anything I can bring you? Do you want me to stay?”

Keith shakes his head. “Just need to sleep.”

“Okay,” Shiro says, placing his hand carefully on top of Keith’s, avoiding the IV. “I’ll be right here.”

*

Shiro is usually proud of his good temper.

How he's able to keep a cold head when things get heated - his good manners and politeness were what conquered the hearts of the Voltron coalition.

And even with the frequent battles they get in, and the stressful days that come with being a defender of the universe, Shiro is able to keep his good spirits.

Not today, though. Screw manners.

"I need more details on the mission Keith was sent today," Shiro demands, with an unwavering tone.

Kolivan doesn’t seem to react much. But then again, his usual expression betrays nothing. "That’s Marmora intel. We can’t simply-”

"He spent almost an hour there before you came in for a rescue!! With your ship hovering around the base!!" Shiro exclaims, waving his hands in the air. "How could you possibly-"

"We had been compromised. We had to make sure-”

"So he was all but lost bait for you? Was that it??"

"I couldn't safely assemble my men for an extraction right away. Under the circumstances, we did the best we could. We had no safe way of getting him out of there so quickly, and we couldn’t risk-"

"His right arm is destroyed!! He was alone for forty five minutes fighting rogue blades!! What kind of organization are you running when-"

"Enough!" Kolivan says firmly, enough to make Shiro quiet. "Keith knows the risks of participating in missions with the Blade - the same risks that are implied in any mission as a paladin of Voltron, might I remind you. He made his choice when he agreed to join the mission. We do not take risks. Better one man less than two men less, and he knows it. After a breach in security, we have to be extra careful, and not rush in foolishly."

Shiro stays silent for a moment, before muttering.

"We would have saved him immediately. As soon as we knew."

Kolivan lets out a huff, cold and bitter, more than Shiro has ever seen.

"If that’s what the Voltron coalition calls strategy, we may have to rethink how we work together."

Kolivan shakes his head, angry and offended, and turns off the comm.

It doesn't leave Shiro any more content. He feels hung up, stressed, like something inside him is wired up. He turns around and leaves the bridge - there’s someone who needs him right now.

#vld #keith #injury #shiro #fanfic #vld fanfic #m

[autisticlancemcclain]

The tears are the worst fucking part.

They always are. They come out when she’s angry or hurt and embarrassed, and they make her feel like a little girl, which only ever makes her feel worse. It sucks to feel like you can’t hold your ground in an argument because your eyes are burning and trails of tears are blazing hot down your cheeks.

But she didn’t even get the chance to argue.

“We’re not punishing you,” Shiro had said gently, guilt visibly lining his features as her first tear fell, which only made her snarl at him. “But your bond to your element could use some strengthening, Katie. It won’t take too long, I’m sure of it.”

Just a couple vargas, he has promised her. Gather the list of ingredients for the next few meals, and see how the exposure to a natural environment makes you feel, map out your relationship with your lion. Easy peasy.

Easy for everyone else to say. The rest of them seemed to bond with their lions like it was fuckin’ easy, snapping up their elemental control like it was second nature. Hunk was as solid as the rocks and earth he represented, and it showed in the way he was and the way he acted. Shiro felt like the awesome and incredible presence of the sky to everyone he met. Keith was the most fiery person she had ever met, probably. He acted like he was powered by a raging inferno, always moving, always flickering. Lance was —

Well. Lance was water, simple as that. Everything he did was as playful and stubborn as a running river. Even his expressions have the same practiced fluidity of them, like he grew up imitating the tide.

She supposes he did. She supposes it makes sense, that he is the one sent with her, to help guide her along, so to speak.

It still kind of stings.

“Could you stop fucking humming,” she snaps, glaring at her teammate.

He doesn’t even glance at her. “No.”

She rolls her eyes, tears making her breaths stutter, and wipes some of the wetness off her cheeks. It doesn’t really work, and mostly just smears it around, but she’s so bitter that she’s kind of beyond caring.

She hates this. She hates this stupid mission, she hates this stupid forest, she hates her stupid element, she hates that Lance will not stop fucking prancing around, and most of all she hates that she can’t figure this shit out on her own.

She hates that she has to be babied.

“Oh, hey, these are the sugarplums for the not-lamb stew.” Lance stops abruptly, gentle hand on her arm to stop her, too. She resists the urge to yank it away, desperately reminding herself that it’s not Lance’s fault she’s so angry, not his fault that humiliation burns through her, not his fault that she can’t get her shit together. She’s already snapped at him once — more than once, if she’s being honest — and he’s gracefully ignored it. If she keeps pushing, he’ll snap right back, and then they’ll both be miserable.

Plus, she doesn’t actually like snapping at Lance. He doesn’t deserve her lashing out, he’s only trying to help.

“You sure?”

Pidge looks at the small purple fruits , feeling a little helpless. She has no idea how Lance has distinguished them from the various other fruits and seeds hanging from the hundreds of other trees. She has no idea how the hell she’s supposed to memorize all of this garbage. How something as frustrating and unique and random as nature is supposed to be her element, the one thing that represents her, deep to her core.

It’s not fair.

“Yep!” Lance chirps. He crouches down, starting to pull at his laces. “The bark has more linear pattern structures, see? And the leaves are smooth, not serrated, and much darker than any other fruit trees we’ve passed. And it smells like plum jam.” To her great confusion, he pulls off his shoes as socks as he explains, only standing once his bare feet are on the backed earth and moss of the forest floor.

“You’re going to get a sharp rock to the foot,” she says, unsure as to why he’s decided to ditch his shoes in the places he probably needs them most.

He snorts, kicking his shoes to the side and turning to face her, making obnoxious kissy faces and poking at her relentlessly.

“Aw, is Pidgey worried for my health and well-being?”

She scowls, shoving him away. “Nevermind. I hope you get tetanus and lose your whole leg.”

Unfortunately, her threat only makes him grin wider. He blows her one last dramatized kiss before turning to the large tree, wrapping his sweater around the trunk, and using it to scurry up the tree almost faster than she can register. By the time it occurs to her to question him, he’s already ten feet in the air, shifting his weight to a steady enough branch.

“What the hell are you doing?” she yells.

Lance looks back down at her, raising an eyebrow. “…Getting…fruit…?”

“There’s fruit down here!” She gestures to the dozens and dozens of fallen but perfectly good plums on the ground, many of which she’s already scooped up and put in the bag Hunk gave her. “All the fruit-bearing branches are like thirty feet in the air, and the branches are way too thin! It’s too risky!”

“Well, Pidgeon,” he says, hooking his knees around a branch to hang upside down, shooting her a wink and a pair of finger guns, “that’s the fun part!”

Before she can yell at him again to get the hell back down, he’s flipped back upright, scurrying up rapidly thinning branches to reach the higher, juicier fruit.

Pidge heart pounds.

“Lance, get down here!” Her voice is reedy with panic, but he ignores her. “You’re going to get hurt, you colossal fucking dumbass!”

But no matter how loudly she cusses him out, he keeps climbing, barely even pausing to make sure a branch can hold his weight before using it to get higher. He climbs as easily as he walks, as easily as he shoots — like it’s second nature. Despite his ease, Pidge can fucking use her brain and see that as scrawny as Lance is, the branches are scrawnier, and he is going to fall and die and Pidge is going to have to watch it happen.

Just as she’s about to call backup, Lance forty feet in the fucking air and without even the distant thought of a rope, Lance ties his hoodie — filled with fruit — to his back, stands on a branch, and fucking leaps the hell off.

Pidge screams at the top of her lungs.

But instead of falling to his death, Lance lands on a branch jutting out from a neighbouring tree, maybe five feet below the branch he leapt from.

Pidge’s yell catches in her throat.

He’s fine.

He continues like that for the ten seconds it takes for him to make his way down, hopping from branch to branch like a chickadee, smiling so wide his brown eyes are nearly creased shut. He looks elated; the happiest she’s seen him in ages.

Slowly, some of her fear starts to fade.

“You fucking scared me,” she says harshly when his feet are back on the floor. Her heart is still galloping.

Lance shrugs. “I told you I’d be fine.”

“No, you told me risks were more fun, then you jumped down a fucking tree.” She accepts the fruits he hands her, replacing the less appetizing ones she already had in her bag. “Taller than your lion.”

“Yeah, because I’ve done it before.” He places the last sugarplum in the bag and then ties it shut, securing it to his back and then throwing an arm over Pidge’s shoulders. He starts walking in a random direction, and Pidge struggles to keep up with his wide strides.

“…Oh.” She supposes that makes sense. He looked comfortable as he climbed.

They walk for the next several minutes in silence. Pidge notices that the tear tracks on her face have dried, and the terror she felt for Lance earlier has replaced her anger, her embarrassment.

She wonders if that was the point.

“Hey, look at that.” He points to a small, budding yellow flower dotting the base of a tree. “That’s hairflower. They grow at the bases of confler trees, because the confler trees always host sodiko birds, which are their biggest pollinators. Cool, huh?”

“How do you know all this stuff?” she blurts, barely letting him finish his sentence. Some of her earlier frustration bleeds into her voice, but luckily it doesn’t sound too accusatory. “I don’t — we’re not even on Earth, but somehow you recognise all the random wildlife. Nature is supposed to be my element. I don’t — I don’t know why I’m struggling so bad when you have it so easy.”

Lance trips over his feet, slightly, stumbling. He removes his arm from her shoulders, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His shoulders hike up somewhere near his ears, hunching his posture.

Guilt churns in her stomach.

“Lance, I didn’t mean —”

Did she?

What did she mean?

“I’m not dumb,” he says quietly.

She swallows. “I know.”

“It’s — I’m not good at the classroom shit. I have to try really hard to understand what a textbook is telling me, and I never understand instructions that aren’t explained to me three times in four different ways. I can’t even begin to understand all the fancy shmancy engineer stuff you and Hunk do. I will not pretend to understand how Altean alchemy and magic works.” He looks at her finally, and hurt clouds his eyes, but his voice is steady, firm. Practiced even, like it’s not the first time he’s had to explain this. “But I’m not dumb.”

“I know,” Pidge repeats, quieter. She doesn’t know how to take back her words, to say them better. How to fix how she feels, honestly. Because it was a lie, her backtracking — she did mean what she said. It was a mean thing to say, a mean thing to think and believe, and she had allowed herself to think it, to feel it, to say it and believe it.

That’s not fair to Lance. That’s not fair to her friend.

It isn’t even true.

“I know,” she repeats again, firmer this time. “I’m sorry. I forgot. But I know you’re not dumb.”

He hesitates for a second, but then nods, accepting her apology. He puts his arm back around her shoulder.

“I’ve always been better at learning things I can do, physically, or things that I can see have a purpose. Like dance, or shooting, or learning the names of cool things like plants and rocks. I’ve always been good with names and faces. And piloting, too, I hope I’m good at that.”

She hates the doubt there, and hates more that she might be part of the reason. “You are. Good at piloting, I mean.”

He grins at her. “Thanks. You are too, you know. Even though all this element shit is a learning curve.”

She snorts despite herself. “Not to you. You’re the living embodiment of water, basically, you naiad.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I spend time in it. I go to the pool, like, every day. I don’t even play mermaids all the time. I do boring meditative shit, because apparently that’s what Blue needs.”

She looks at him in shock. She hadn’t considered that anyone other than Shiro really meditated, or that anyone else had to work towards working with their elements. Especially not Lance. “Really?”

He nods excitedly. “Yeah, man! I thought I was good, but when Hunk unlocked his earth weapon thingie, I asked Blue what was up and she said I just needed more practice letting elemental quintessence flow through me, whatever the hell that means. Apparently it’s easy to summon when you’re panicked, but if you want to do it on a more regular basis you have to learn how to recognise it, so you can call it.”

That makes sense, she supposes. But she still feels like she’s missing something.

“How the hell am I supposed to frolic around a forest between missions? There’s not exactly one in the castle.”

Lance shrugs. “I don’t know, genius. You figured out how to turn a magical lion invisible, can’t you puzzle out how to grow a garden in space or something? Aren’t you a science nerd?”

Pidge stills.

Oh, duh.

It’s such a simple solution — plant a garden. She used to have a garden, back home, that she and her mom worked on regularly. Her mom would show her how she genetically modified plant seeds, and then they’d monitor the new plants and plant traits together.

Suddenly she understands why Green is the lion of curiosity and science as well as nature — the two are linked, everywhere, even in her. She belongs in the forest as much as she belongs in the workshop.

She can do so many weirdo experiments. Isn’t that what science is, basically?

“I owe you one,” she tells Lance, walking again beside him.

He chuckles, adjusting the bag of fruit on his shoulder and nudging her with his elbow. “You owe me twenty. Now, come on, we have lots more stuff to gather. I’ll show you how to identify it.”

#i see too many fics in this fandom where pidge is a cruel asshole for some reason. not in this household. #yes she says stupid unfiltered stuff sometimes but she loves her friends okay #vld #voltron #pidge #pidge holt #lance #lance mcclain #lance & pidge #smart pidge #smart lance #pidge angst #lance angst #langst #hurt/comfort #building relationships #bamf pidge #bamf lance #brown-eyed lance #my writing #fic #longpost #autistic lance #autistic pidge

[mickmundy]

Bushmedicine eating/food habits? Like who cooks, their favorite foods, special meals, etc? 👀

OH MY GOSH GWAH of course.,., i've talked about it a little bit here and here but i will always talk about it more >:)!

i think food sharing for the two of them is Very Intimate. they both grew up in households where you cooked for people you loved, so receiving food from someone (to both medic and sniper) is a massive compliment! i think sniper prefers canning, preserving and grilling while medic loves to bake (both sweets and non-sweets)! i'd say they could probably make just about anything, but they prefer sticking to the stuff they like to make!

that said i think their... creative processes are super different. i think fanon always has medic as a total Neat Freak, which is an interesting choice to me considering his lab is covered in bird droppings nearly always and he literally tosses heavy's rib onto the ground, lets his exploded heart pieces fly everywhere, etc... LOL. i think of him as a mess maker who prefers to clean up After The Fact! if you have him doing anything, he's going to find a way to make it messy! >:)

sniper on the other hand... imo sniper lives in a small space so being Neat is of the utmost importance! also i think this ties in with his survivalist thing where it's like... everything has a Place, everything has a Practical Function. he cleans as he cooks, keeps his space tidy and if there's any lingering mess after he's done, he cleans it up immediately!!

so when they cook together, it's... amusing to say the least LOL. but it always turns out great!! sniper loves seafood and any kind of barbecue really, and medic will eat pretty much anything; he's not a big shellfish fan though! he prefers beef and chicken dishes! all in all neither of them are picky eaters; they'll gladly eat whatever the other makes! :-) sniper likes cooking with medic because he loves seeing medic in his element! you know how they say that surgery is exactly like baking, of course! u__u!

sniper always follows medic around and cleans up behind him (so that medic can just focus on his tasks and not be worried about the Boring Cleanup afterwards)! medic will knock an entire little bag of sugar on the ground and be like "oops! oh well! :3c all part of the process!" and sniper will be like "ah, no worries sweetness. i got it." and will start sweeping that up, then he'll hear medic giggling to himself as he's punching and flinging dough around and pause to gander at him Lovingly and then he looks back down at the flour and hears a like BZRRRRRRRT--- WHRRRRR!!

and this whole time medic's talking to sniper about how he just loves these [ripe fruits, homemade jam, etc] that sniper gave to him ("thank you, spatzchen!") but gets distracted and turns the blender on without putting the top on so the stuff just flies everywhere and sniper Leaps Up and places his palms over it and turns it off (and is sprayed with The Mixture too) and medic walks back over and is like "it's the perfect consistency! ^v^ i expect nothing less! <3" and kisses his cheek and is like "hoo! delicious! will you pour it in here, (points to Specific Spot in pan or on pastry), here, (and again), here, (etc)..."

and sniper does, and medic watches him Carefully (he has high standards of course! but sniper never misses so he doesn't need to worry <3) and once sniper's done medic smiles happily and claps his hands and is like "hoo! thank you so much for the- oh!" <- just realized sniper is covered in blended fruit/custard/whatever was in the blender) "when did this happen?" and sniper grins and is like "oh? heh, i dunno," (<- he Does know of course but he doesn't care. medic is sooo cute he is sooo in lov with him) and medic presses his lips to sniper's face/neck where he got sprayed and kisses/licks it off and giggles deviously and sniper's like O//_//O pidge!! >//M//< and medic laughs warmly and is like "hee! hoo! i couldn't resist! now come over here and i'll actually wipe it away." and sniper follows medic to the sink and medic wets a warm towel and wrings it out and gently rubs sniper's face and neck to get any stickiness off of him and sniper cranes his neck and purrs/chuffs happily and medic smiles fondly and massages his face/neck (he's sooo in love with sniper. sniper is soooo cute when he's relaxed. god he loves sniper so much)

and then they enjoy their goodies!! ^W^ EHEHHEHE

#SORRY .I GOT SO SIDETRACKED #I LYYYY I HOPE THIS IS GOOD ;__; <3333 #asks #dutchfoolery #dutchiehcs #medsnip