#chronically ill lance
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Other people — other people slouched when they weren’t watching their posture. But Lance? When Lance wasn’t paying attention, he stood straight. It was bizarre.
Shiro has been… watching Lance, lately. Observing. And he’s a little ashamed to say he’s been shocked at what he finds, again and again. When he first met Lance, he’d been worried. He hadn’t known Lance for long, but he’d seen obnoxious jokes and bad flirting and hyena laughter and he’d wondered what the hell the Blue Lion was thinking. He’d had a whole speech on maturity planned, expected a huge fight and dramatics and generally created an image of Lance in his head based on maybe three interactions that were stressful enough that no one would be on their best behaviour, let alone an 18-year-old kid who struggled with social norms at the best of times, ripped away from his family and told he would have to be a soldier in a 10 000 year old war.
Yeah. Shiro made a bad judgement, and the guilt eats at him, a little.
His wake-up call had been the Rover disaster, actually. Lance hadn’t hesitated a moment before bodily throwing himself in front of a man he barely knew, protecting him from a bomb. Shiro couldn’t reconcile that kid to the caricature of Lance he’d built in his head, so he’d started paying much closer attention. It was then that he learnt that Lance portrayed a very careful image of himself. It was almost intricate, really.
Aside from the bomb, the posture thing has been the first thing he really noticed. Whenever Lance was watching himself — hanging out with the team, bothering Keith, eating meals — he was hunched. All the way over, to the point it made Shiro wince, a little. That boy loved to slouch like no one Shiro had ever seen, it was ridiculous. But times when Lance was really focused? During training, a briefing, or his medic lessons with Coran (another thing that stacked onto Shiro’s guilt — those lessons were something Lance sought out of his own volition, his own desire to support the team in any way possible)? He stood as straight as a nail, as if a broom was taped to his spine. It always made Shiro blink, do a double take, remember that yeah, holy shit, Lance was 6’2”.
The next main thing he noticed was that for all Lance’s flirting, he had no actual interest in sleeping with or dating anyone. He flirted with pretty much any girl his age (well, presumably. Space is weird) they saw, and most of them rolled their eyes and walked away, but Lance genuinely did have some charm. Even statistically, some girls were bound to return his affections. But Shiro noticed that Lance would clam up immediately if anyone flirted back. Sometimes he wouldn’t even stammer out some form of farewell, he’d just straight-up leave. Shiro could not possibly understand why.
The next big thing was his whole rivalry with Keith. For as much as Lance claimed to hate him, he went out of his way to spend time with him — a good time, too, not just them arguing — to the point where the only person on the ship Lance spent more time with was Hunk, and maybe Coran. They sat next to each other at every meal, even often entering the kitchen together. Shiro knew for a fact that Lance often needled Keith into going swimming with him (although Keith had offhandedly mentioned once that since that first time, Lance has always worn a swim shirt. If Shiro was more confident in his and Lance’s relationship, he’d ask him about it, but he’s worried that at this point it would only drive Lance farther away).
All of this was only the tip of the iceberg. There were lots of strange behaviours and contradicting actions that completely baffled Shiro. Who was Lance, really? What were his goals? What did he want? Shiro knew that Lance had a big family, that he was from Cuba. He knew Lance had a nice smile and a really wonderful laugh when it was genuine. He knew Lance was talented, with all sorts of artsy things and especially talented with math (although this, too, took Shiro far too long to notice). But he really didn’t know Lance at all, not like he knew the rest of the paladins, and it bothered him. They were supposed to be mentally linked to fly a giant mecha, and Shiro was responsible for Lance, besides. They should have a relationship, and it was horrible that they didn’t. Shiro knew that the only way to develop this relationship in a healthy way was to be honest with Lance, communicate, and then spend time together after that. And as hard as the conversation was going to be, Shiro was determined to have it.
———
“Hey, Lance, can I talk to you?”
Shiro makes sure to ask as inconspicuously as he can, along with asking privately so none of the other nosy kids (namely Hunk and Allura) would have anything to say. Still, though, Lance tenses briefly, before forcing his face into calm neutrality and hunching his shoulders, hands in his pockets. Shiro’s heart sinks, even though he anticipated the reaction. It’s hard to watch someone be so visibly uncomfortable with you.
“Sure, Shiro, what’s up?”
“I just wanted to chat,” Shiro promises. “You want to head to the kitchen and make some hot chocolate?”
Lance brightens immediately, which makes Shiro smile. Lance’s rampant sweet tooth is another thing Shiro has noticed. It’s worse than Keith’s.
“Okay!” Lance chirps, skipping over. Shiro relaxes for a moment, as Lance babbles about his mother and sisters on their walk to the kitchen, until he realizes that Lance has told this story before and his hand is clenched tightly into the sleeve of his hoodie.
He’s nervous. Shiro swallows past the lump in his throat. How coldly has he acted towards Lance for the kid to be so scared to be alone with him? Shiro decides to take a risk.
“I remember you mentioning that! Your mom grounded your sister for two months, right?”
Please please please let this come off as me listening to him, Shiro prays, and not me finding him annoying.
Lance startles. “Y — yeah, that’s right. I don’t —” Lance winces. “Nevermind.”
Shiro grimaces as Lance looks away. This is… this is worse than he thought. He really and truly hopes he manages to fix this.
As soon as they enter the kitchen, Lance makes a beeline for the cupboards, pulling out a pot, some space cocoa, sugar, and some of Kaltenecker’s milk.
“You can just sit down, Shiro, don’t worry about it. I got it.”
This is another thing Shiro has noticed. Whenever Lance is overwhelmed — be it with anger, nerves, or even excitement —he defaults to acts of service. Washing the dishes, scrubbing the grout from the tile, collecting the laundry. Shiro has even seen him clean the pods, even though they make him uncomfortable and he doesn’t really enjoy being near them. (It actually wasn’t Shiro who noticed this. Pidge was the one who realised that whenever Lance and Keith argued at the dinner table, Lance would get up and start clearing the table, washing the dishes. Every single time. He did not seem to notice he did it. Pidge has since informed everyone but Lance and Keith themselves, and Shiro has caught her subtly inducing arguments between the two so she doesn’t have to do the chores. It’s something Shiro should put a stop to, but he’s not sure how to bring it up without making Lance defensive.)
This time, though, Shiro won’t let him do it himself.
“I’d actually like to help, Lance, if you don’t mind?”
Lance tenses, even more than he was previously. He seems to struggle with himself.
“If you help you’re going to stress me out,” Lance admits after a moment. “Sorry to be a control freak, but other people in the kitchen when I’m trying to do something irritates me. It’s — cluttered. Too much at once.” Lance bites his lip. “But, um, you’re the boss. Actually, nevermind, ignore that, you’re welcome to help if you want to —”
“Lance,” Shiro interrupts, “it’s absolutely fine. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Is it okay if I sit on the counter, or would you rather I stay back at the table?”
Lance exhales deeply, shoulders slumping in relief, even as he tries to slap a smile on his face and pretend he’s feeling normal.
“That’d be fine.”
Shiro hoists himself up on the counter a couple feet away from Lance as he begins to measure our ingredients. He’s silent for a moment, waiting for the right time. He waits until Lance’s spine straightens, and his tongue sticks out. Until he’s relaxed.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” Shiro says, and Lance tenses again. “But I owe you an apology.”
This knocks the tenseness right from Lance’s shoulders, and stops what he’s doing to look at Shiro in confusion.
“Pardon?”
Shiro takes a deep breath. “I assumed very poorly of you, our first couple weeks in space, for no reason. I decided off very minimal and skewed interactions that you were immature and shallow, and I was so wrong. I judged you unfairly, and for that I’m sorry. I’ve since gotten to know you and I realize you’re a genuinely good and kind person, and very smart, and I’m really sorry for assuming otherwise.”
Lance is completely frozen, staring at Shiro with a gaped mouth. Shiro holds his gaze, hoping his sincerity has come across. After a few moments, Lance’s brown eyes cloud with tears, although he blinks them away. He sighs, deep and long, and continues mixing the sugar into the heated milk.
“Yeah, I know.”
He sounds resigned. Disappointed, but not surprised. Shiro says as much.
“Well, you don’t look at me with fondness. Not like you look at everyone else,” Lance says matter-of-factly. Shiro winces. Lance is fair, and is completely right to say so, but it still hurts. It’s hard to be wrong.
“That was once true.”
“But it’s not true anymore?”
“I’ve been… paying better attention. Noticing some strange things, things that didn’t make sense with the person I assumed you were.”
Lance nods, carefully pouring the hot cocoa into two mugs. He hands one to Shiro, who accepts gratefully, then hoists himself up on the counter next to him with his own mug.
“I imagine I’m a little confusing,” he says.
Shiro inclines his head. “Yes.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I don’t mind, if you’re willing to tell me.”
Lance is silent for a moment, just sipping his cocoa. Eventually, he takes a deep breath, hands clenching forcibly before relaxing.
“My parents did not plan me. They completely believed they were done after Rachel, and that was the truth for years. But when my mom was fifty — well, I came along.”
Shiro inhales sharply. He doesn’t know a lot about pregnancy or childbirth, but that seems… late. Lance shoots him a joyless smile.
“Yeah, not great. But she chose to take the risk. She said she loved me the moment she knew about me.” Lance snorts. “She’s very sappy, my mother. Anyways. I was born four months early. Ma says I fit into her hand. It was… hard, for her and Papá. For everyone, really. It was a lot of time in the hospital and the constant fear that I’d just die. And I didn’t, obviously, but I had — and still have — a lot of health issues. My eyes were fused shut when I was born, I didn’t have a gram of fat on my body. I was even missing some organs. I have all my organs now, and my eyesight is actually really good, surprisingly, but I still have a lot of health issues.
“My lungs don’t expand all the way. My heart’s a little too small. I have a lot of deadly allergies, I’m anaemic, I can’t gain weight for shit. And even all my issues now aren’t bad, compared to when I was growing up. I grew out of a lot of my allergies, and my bones used to be really frail. I was a walking hazard, basically. My parents… they loved me so much. They only wanted to keep me safe. But eventually, after close call after close call, they got, like… really protective. Crazy. I wasn’t allowed to socialize with anyone as a toddler, they were too scared I’d get sick. I wasn’t even allowed to feed myself. Fuck, one of them slept on the floor beside my bed until I was ten goddamn years old. They were terrified I’d die in my sleep.
“And then —” Lance sighs deeply, swirling around the leftover liquid in his cup. Shiro sets his own cup down; he’s barely touched it since Lance started. He — he’s completely blindsided. He’d never have known this about Lance, by looking at him. Sure, Lance is scrawny, and he gets cold easily, but Lance as a walking health risk? Lance, who seems like the biggest presence in any room? Who consistently scores as one of the best in training? Who regularly chases Pidge around the castle? It just doesn’t seem real.
“Then came the ASD diagnosis. And like, I am not ashamed of it. In fact it was a relief to have a reason for all the different struggles I was having, for the shitty social skills and general other-ness. But Jesus fucking Christ, it did not help my relationship with my parents. They went from overbearing to suffocating. Before it was just —” Lance sits up straight, finger in the air mockingly, voice high and nagging — “‘Sit up straight, Lance, your lungs!’ ‘Careful, Lance, do you know what’s in that? Are there any nuts?’ ‘Lance, check your heartbeat, you just went up the stairs.’ ‘Lance, go grab another hoodie. There’s a bite in the air, it’s only 75°.’” Lance sighs. He sags forward, eyes closing. Shiro sees the exhaustion in him for the first time, in the very bones of him. Shiro — he knows how Lance feels, being so limited, but he can’t imagine his own parents holding onto him so tightly. How draining that must have been.
“My parents were never intentionally ableist. They never wanted to hurt me, they never intended to do anything but protect me. But I was diagnosed and then it was like they suddenly forgot that I knew how to think for myself. Like yeah, sure, I’m not great with social cues, but I can fucking talk to people! I’m not helpless, but they forgot that. They even tried to pull me out of school, but Veronica went ballistic on them. Fought them for three straight days. She’s always been the one who believed in me, did everything she could to give me as much freedom as possible. It strained her relationship with my parents. It was worse than mine, and at that point in my life I couldn’t even look at them without getting angry. Being in the same room as them was suffocating, I always wanted to just blow up, but I didn’t really. I had a lot of energy I needed to dispel.”
“Is that why you clean to often?”
Lance blinks. “Is that why I what?”
Shiro shifts, biting his lip. It seems that he was right, that Lance hasn’t noticed. “When you’re upset, or overwhelmed. You tend to clean. You clear the table whenever you argue with Keith. Pidge has been egging you on, by the way. So she doesn’t have to clean up.”
Lance snorts incredulously. “That little shit,” he says, shaking his head. “I guess I do clean when I’m overwhelmed, don’t I? I haven’t noticed. But that makes sense. There wasn’t much I was allowed to do, but I could clean, then I was doing something that wasn’t having a screaming match with my parents.”
Shiro hums, and sits with that, for a moment. All of Lance’s fronts — his obnoxiousness, blind hatred for authority, reluctance to follow vague orders — they make sense, now. If the main authority in Shiro’s life assumed he was dumb and helpless and kept him pretty locked up, Shiro thinks he would have some baggage, too.
“What made them let you go to the Garrison, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Lance grins, but it’s bittersweet. “Oh, they didn’t. I left in the middle of the night when I turned 18.”
Shiro blinks in shock. “You ran away?”
Lance shrugs. “Not technically. Legal adult, I was allowed to do what I want. I had Veronica’s help. She got me the applications, sent them in for me too. Had to get my passport in secret, same with the funds. It wasn’t easy, and it also kind of felt shitty. My parents were as distraught as they were furious. Marco said Ma cried for days. But… I had to get out. I honest to God would have died within a year if I stayed.”
Shiro believes him.
“You talk about your parents so fondly, though.”
Lance shrugs again. “Yeah, ‘cause I miss ‘em. I might never see them again, and like I said — they went about it the wrong way, but they loved me. Love me. Besides, our relationship actually really improved once I left. I called them after a month, was totally honest with them. It was a lot easier for them to treat me like a capable person when they saw me doing just fine in my own.”
“I see.”
There’s another silence as Shiro visibly processes all that information, before Lance takes a deep breath. He turns towards Shiro, looking him on the face.
“That’s why your judgement hurts so much,” Lance says, and Shiro feels his heart drop even though he knows he deserves the words. “I saw your medical bracelet.” He holds up his wrist, where Shiro notices the silver band for the first time. The same one he’s worn for years. “You — you were my hero, y’know? Another guy just like me, just as sick as me, who’s a pilot anyway. A great pilot. The best pilot. Having your hero look at you in disgust — it hurts. It was devastating. I know I definitely was acting like a bit of a fool, but —”
“No, no, Lance —” Shiro’s voice is desperate and he knows it, but he can’t help it. He reaches out to clasp Lance’s shoulder, but falters at the last moment, unsure if he’s allowed. His hand hangs there, in limbo. “You weren’t acting like a fool. You were acting like a regular teenager, and I was expecting you to act like a grown adult. It wasn’t fair of me, and I didn’t take the time to know you. I mean it, Lance, I’m going to do better by you. I swear it. I won’t disappoint you again.”
Lance’s eyes close. His breath shudders, as he takes several deep ones. His hands shake briefly before he stills them, opening his eyes and staring at Shiro with strength and — and with a deep kindness that Shiro does not feel like he deserves.
“I forgive you,” he says firmly. “You’re not perfect, man. You made a mistake and you apologized for it. I appreciate it.”
Shiro exhales deeply, and he lets himself let go of the guilt. Lance forgives him. It’s time for them to move on, build trust.
“Thank you.”
Lance hums, turning back away. They sit in silence again, but this one is comfortable. It’s filled with the promise of a new beginning, a new start. Filled with the opportunity to get to know the Blue Paladin, who supports from the sidelines and cares with a heart that outshines the darkest of nights.
Shiro can’t wait.
#projection? who’s she?#pidge’s bullshit is based off something mh sister did to me for years. hannah you motherfucker#vld#voltron#lance#lance mcclain#shiro#takashi shirogane#ableism#lance & shiro#shiro is flawed#but he is a good man#bamf lance#chronically ill lance#autistic lance#lance & lance’s mother#lance & veronica#klance#pining lance#barely but idc#understanding shiro#disabled lance#disabled shiro#remember how it’s canon that lance and shiro are really similar?#mind lance#medic lance#my writing#brown eyed lance#longpost#langst
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Immortality [Obey Me! Solomon & Lance, Barbatos/Lance]
Note: Mentions of possible death. Dealing with vascular type ehlers-danlos syndrome basically. I get to find out if I have that in June of next year. Yayyyyy.
References this fic:
Demon in the Rain
Obey Me! Masterlist
--
“Solomon,” Lance spoke in the doorway and drew the sorcerer’s attention from the runes he was studying. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Of course, have a seat,” Solomon responded immediately. He stood and turned his chair around so that he could face Lance before he sat back down. “What can I do for my little apprentice?”
Lance took a seat and eyed his teacher. “How does your immortality work?”
“What do you mean?” Solomon asked with a tilt of his head.
“Does it just stop you from aging? Or does it stop you from dying from illness or injuries?”
Solomon leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Well, I haven’t exactly gone and tried to get myself decapitated or anything, but it does seem like what should be a life-ending injury wouldn’t actually kill me. The same goes for different diseases. It hurts, sure, but they heal with the help of magic and time. Why are you asking?”
Lance looked away and wrung his hands together. “So if I had an aortic dissection, I wouldn’t die?”
Solomon frowned. “No, not likely.” He leaned forward and ran a hand through his hair. “Lance, why are you asking?”
“Barbatos told me about the conditions of the pact that you two made.”
Solomon tensed. “So you’re the one he intended to make immortal.”
Lance nodded his head. “Before I actually go through with it, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t giving him false hope. It’s possible that I’d have an aortic dissection. I didn’t want to make him think that I’d be with him forever when I’d just die a little down the road.” Solomon was quiet. Lance’s bottom lip trembled. “I couldn’t do that to him.”
Solomon offered a small smile. “If you do become immortal, you wouldn’t have to worry about that.” His smile faded. “Still, you need to be absolutely certain that it’s what you want. Being immortal is…Painful. More painful than any illness or injury you could imagine.”
Lance gazed up with Solomon, lost in thought. Then, he grinned. “You were alone, Solomon. Is it painful now, that you have all of us?”
Solomon’s eyes widened at Lance’s words. He laughed lightly. “No, it’s not.”
Lance nodded his head. “Then, I think I’ll be okay. I know it’s going to be difficult and painful, but I have all of you to help me get through the hard parts. I know you warned me that demons aren’t my friends, but they’re some of the greatest friends I’ve ever had. And Barbatos,” Lance trailed off with a faint blush.
“He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you,” Solomon said firmly. “I know I warned you to not get close to them, but it’s clear that they do all care for you.”
“Thank you, Solomon.”
Solomon crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air. “And I will enforce my pact with Barbatos to make sure he doesn’t hurt you.”
Lance rolled his eyes. “He wouldn’t. I trust him more than anyone.”
“Good. You want that when you become immortal.” Solomon stood up and walked towards Lance. He placed a hand on his fellow human’s shoulder. “I wish you all of the happiness in the world, Lance. I’m sure you’ll find it.”
#Obey Me#Obey Me!#Solomon#Obey Me Solomon#Barbatos#Obey Me Barbatos#Lance#MC!Lance#Main Character#Original Male character#chronic illness#death
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i need to fuckin. put my brain more into writing bc i want to write lance more
#HE COMES OFF AS LIKE CHARMING IN MY ART STUFF#and i mean i Guess he is but hes charming in a fucked up way#hes poor little meow meow esque charming but make no mistake#he Will cry if you bully him even a little and is incapable of being a Person sometimes#this is a man who does the medieval equivalent of taking a depression nap in jeans#which is just. a depression nap in full plate armor#uncomfortable but for the pressure stim? worth it#hands lance my chronic disease of being a cryabby#*crybaby#anyway#hes fucked up in a really specific way but i can't think of scenarios to spotlight it with#which like is kinda fucked up for me bc i love writing stupid mundane shit#(or at least like#mundane compared to Everything Else going on in this shit fjlkdsklf)#idk maybe ill spin a wheel and try to write something small for him n whoever i get bc explaining characters personality is stupid hard for#me for NO reason#but i think im just. even a tiny bit better at explaining things through dynamics with another character kjlfdsjklf#anywya <3#puts him in my brain microwave#and my brain microwave explodes bc you're not supposed to put metal in the microwave
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sick with sadness
actor eren x f!reader
**part of my method acting fic
content: mentions of depression/anxiety, getting taken advantage of, pure sadness NO happy in this chapter
an: I am alive. I am convinced I have some underlying chronic disease or illness going on with the way the past three weeks have gone, but I am alive. we are all going to close our eyes and read this chapter and then move on.
previous chapter
--
Eren’s tenth birthday is the first time he feels it.
He sits on the spiral staircase to watch the crowd roar on outside, well past the normal time he’d be asleep. He can feel the tiredness sitting in his eyes, the stuffy, starched suit his mom forced him to wear digging into his neck. There’s a mix of blue, green, and yellow confetti littered on the floor, a sticky grime to the usual pristine house his mom’s meticulousness affords - and he hates it.
From his vantage point, he can see every corner of the party, the expansive glass doors letting him catch every person laughing, enjoying, swinging to the beat of the music. Armin and Bertholdt are pouring salt into Historia and Annie’s drinks while they use the bathroom, Sasha and Jean are being way too aggressive with the pinata, and Mikasa’s braiding a little flower crown for a very smiley Marco.
His parents' friends, people whose movies he’s spent years watching when he grew up, studied when he was at the SHWA are on the right side of the lot, sparkling dresses getting ruined by the mud in the backyard and their expensive jewelry discarded on the tables.
And all Eren can do is watch. Whatever it is, the block in his chest, that’s stopping the breath from reaching his lungs - it’s gluing him down to the seat, making every part of his brain feel heavy and his arms feel loose.
If souls were real, his would be hundreds, thousands of miles away - detached from his real body.
He hears a loud pounding and turns his neck to find Ymir and Reiner poking the little aquarium to the left of the staircase. The fish he picked out with Zeke on his last birthday, the picture perfect day of quiet solitude, are frantically swimming around the tank.
He watches the two of them, their inquisitive eyes laughing as the fish duck around the tank after each respective smack. The lights flicker every time Ymir pounds her closed fist against the glass, the sound so loud that it smacks against the wall behind it.
And suddenly, the sound, that sound, is all too loud, so jarring that before he knows it there’s thick tears pouring out of his eyes and his voice is getting all tangled in his chest. He’s not sure how he got there, but suddenly he’s standing up, freed from the stairs, and yelling at the two of them.
“Stop smacking against the glass, Ymir! They don’t like that.”
Ymir looks over, a confused and almost bored look on her face. Reiner's eyes, he's so puzzled, only make his skin burn more. Reiner’s looking at him like there’s something wrong with him.
Is there something wrong with him?
“It’s just a fish, Eren. They don’t even care.” Ymir says, bending back over to focus her eyes on the glass.
“They do care! Every time you punch the glass they swim away because they’re scared.” Eren says, his chest heaving too hard, his mind not catching fast enough to stop it.
Reiner and Ymir shrug as they walk away, the two of them giving Eren pitchy awkward smiles as they each squeeze his shoulder once. And when they’re finally out of their vantage point, the tears are only hotter, faster, scalding hot as he stares at the fish in their little cave, instead of swimming freely in the tank.
The fish, long gone, are always what come back to Eren when the feeling returns.
When the sadness takes residence in his chest.
--
“Sorry…line?” Eren says, giving an awkward smile to the director as he turns his neck to the right.
The director, David Lance, rolls his eyes as he cuts filming on the scene, very aggressively calling for lunch. Eren feels his throat sink into his chest, the regret settling in regardless, as he watches him angrily storm off, the cast and the crew awkwardly shuffle behind him.
He should have spent longer memorizing his lines. Or at least reviewed them this morning. Eren shuffles his feet to the coffee cart as he starts apologizing to the cast and crew, who are all but kind to him about his performance. Truly, his only saving grace in the personal hell that he’s living in.
Deep down, Eren knew that whatever he worked on next, wod never compare to the work that he did on Attack on Titan. Getting to work with his biggest role models, all of the people he grew up with, the girl he was in love with right across the door from him - it was virtually impossible for anything to shape up.
He just didn’t realize it would be this fucking bleak on the other side.
The plot of Satellite Port is mediocre at best. Another cheesy astronaut movie, clearly trying to catapult off the success of the feature film that won best picture last year. A half-assed director - who can’t even fucking direct - and maybe the stupidest dialogue he’s ever seen in his life.
Eren’s a good actor. But even he can’t fix this.
And he’s had enough when he hears an irritated sigh behind him and turns around to find Gianna de Anola, his prissy co-star, glaring at him. An ice-cold supermodel, Gianna’s making her break onto the acting front, trying to fall in the footsteps of her world-famous triple threat mother.
“You know, maybe if you didn’t stay up jerking off, we’d actually be able to finish this movie on time.” she says, slouching down in her chair as her assistant brings her lunch to her side.
If Eren could, he’s strangle her assistant every time he walked over. And then her for good measure too.
“I wasn’t jerking off.” Eren mutters, grabbing his script from the table as he flips to the end of the pages. His lines are all highlighted and he can feel his frustration growing even deeper as he remembers he spent two hours doing this scene yesterday.
“You want to know something embarrassing, Eren?” Gianna says, twisting the straw in her soda can with her perfectly manicured fingers.
From the look on her face, Eren already knows. She’s going to say something that’s going to ruin his whole day.
“Please, Gianna. I’m dying of fucking curiosity over here.”
“You spend all your time watching your little pop-star girlfriend perform on her world tour. You wake up at the ass crack of dawn, sacrifice the movie you’re working on, probably text her good luck before every show of hers and I’ll give you twenty bucks she won’t even come to your premiere.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
Eren drops his script on to his lap, his ears burning with irritation, at idiots like Gianna. The picture perfect image of nepotism.
Eren’s not trying to be hypocritical. He knows that his parents are famous actors, his brothers at the top of the industry, which sets him out to be a premier face in the industry. But Gianna is a whole different breed.
Because Eren’s trying. He- he has a reason for wanting to do this. There’s a difference between him and her.
There’s a part of him, deep down, that’s enthralled with the job he gets to do. That encourages, cherishes, deeply acknowledges that what he gets to do is a privilege.
Eren is making art. He gets to tell stories about people's lives and take every broken part of him and make it into something great. He can pour every negative, disgusting, boring, happy, ecstatic moment he’s ever had into a scene to make it something better.
Have someone watching his work at home feel seen, have their chest stir and their eyes water because someone out there feels the same thing he does. Make people feel nostalgic, excited, sad - to feel the feelings with him. To be with him from the beginning of the story till the end, to be excited about what he has to say and what he has to do.
Eren’s parents are famous. And by definition, so is he. But there’s a part of him, deep down, that wants to prove himself. Show that he has feelings, emotions, something to share with people that’s true, authentic - and not just because it was what he was meant to do.
And he knows that’s not the case here.
She’s a specific type. Part of the clear cut, mindless army of people with famous parents - living, thriving off what gets them attention next. It makes Eren sick, makes his stomach turn over in circles and circles until he’s churning with anger. So angry, so negative that it makes his skin itch like he’s covered in dirt.
He looks over at Gianna, a smirk pressed on her perfectly airbrushed face from the makeup team, and he can’t help but feel the burning in his chest sink lower and lower until it’s replaced with ice cold. A hollow wind, rustling through trees.
It’s because he knows Gianna is right. And that if an idiot like her can catch onto it, it won’t be fast until everyone else follows, until he’s the radio clown in the papers next week.
Because despite your best efforts, Eren knows deep down that she’s right.
You won’t be coming to his premiere. You’re above it.
--
Eren swirls the fizzy drink in his hand as he leans against the wall, eyes focused on every person and almost no one in the room at the same time. And he’s trying to push that feeling down, the block in his chest, as he tries to memorize all the faces here, everyone celebrating in front of him.
He’ll remember this moment as the sweetest one. When he can finally say goodbye to this godforsaken movie. He feels a smack on his shoulder and a sudden flash in his eyes, all his senses bombarded all of a sudden.
“TMZ! TMZ! TMZ!”
“Connie. Would it kill you to be quiet for maybe like five minutes?” Jean mutters, rolling his eyes as he shoves Connie to the side.
Eren finds Connie, Jean, Armin, and Marco in his periphery, the three of them smiling big at him. Connie and Jean have clearly already had too much to drink - from the way their ties are loosened against their necks and the pink tints on their cheeks.
And from the way they’re currently trying to wrestle each other at his wrap party.
“Do you ever think about that? Armin is literally like paparazzi with that fucking polaroid camera. He’s been a little bitch like that since he was fifteen.” Connie says, squishing Armin’s cheek, as Armin frantically tries to swat him off.
“Like you’re any better, Connie. You’ve been doing the same thing to Eren and Y/N since like the first day of filming.” Marco responds, taking the spot next to Eren, giving him a smile.
“See but. That was me helping a brother get it. I got so tired of seeing his little horny, wimpy eyes I just had to help him out.” Connie responds, snickering with Jean.
“Oh my god. Connie look, it’s that girl from Death Note.” Eren says, pointing in an ambiguous mention.
Connie’s so frazzled by the mere mention of her - and the alcohol in his system surely can’t help - that he’s dragging Jean to the other side of the room where Eren pointed, the two of them creating a mess of knocking things over as he leaves.
In another life, and probably in this one too, Eren thinks that Connie was raised in a barn.
Armin and Marco lean against the wall with Eren, the three of them staring across the room together now. After six months of pure torture - the most irritating director known to man, the biggest diva as his co-star, and the sweltering heat of Tampa, Florida - Eren’s finally been freed from the godforsaken Satellite Port movie.
The day he’s been looking forward to, since he started all this, is finally at his front door and he can’t be more than relieved. He gets to hear the ratings for the movie at the end of the party, celebrate with his friends, and finally see you after seven months.
And stick it to Gianna di Anola’s face that you still love him. Granted, she doesn’t know that you two are actually dating or that you even love each other - no one does besides your friends - but he can still have the satisfaction. Of imaging her stupid face pursed up in irritation at being wrong. That he has something she doesn’t.
“Can I say something you potentially might not like?” Armin says, tucking the polaroid he just took - the tops of Connie and Jean’s eyes and a very confused looking Eren in the back - into his coat as he leans back.
“Sure.” Eren responds.
“I really hate your co-star. She- she’s so annoying.” Armin responds, sighing.
Eren laughs as he pats Armin on the shoulder, amused that Armin thought something like that could offend him.
“Imagine working with her for six months.” Eren deadpans, eliciting laughs from both Armin and Marco.
The feeling - the overwhelming, all consuming wave of panic - is subsiding in his chest as Marco laughs at his side, the three of them nitpicking everyone in the room to pass the time. No one’s safe from the three of them - every stuck up friend of Gianna’s, the coattail hanging out of David’s outfit, and the godforsaken designer - they're not safe from the three of them
“David Lance has a stick up his ass and that’s what he used to write that dogshit script.” Eren says, his face hurting from smiling.
“And the best part? Gianna di Anola thinks the script is amazing because she can’t even read it.”
Armin, Marco, and Eren turn their heads to find Sukuna at their side, a devious smirk pressed onto his lips. They all laugh as Sukuna slides against the wall next to Eren, taking the glass from his hands, and downing the last of the liquid. He makes a weird face as he swallows, turning to Eren.
“Are you drinking apple cider?”
“I don’t like to drink.” Eren responds.
Sukuna gives him a polite nod before rolling his eyes, his glare focused toward the front door. Hyla Clarkson - the girl that Sukuna has publicly been feuding with for the past few months - just entered, pressing kisses to Gianna and her family.
All he knows is that if he tallied up every time Hyla and Sukuna argued and fought, she would win - by a longshot. Sukuna’s still blacklisted from getting hired by certain studios - a fact he only knows because he only ever took Satellite Port because Sukuna was supposed to be there with him. It was a rude surprise when he showed up and got left to fend for himself.
“So are you on again or off again?” Armin asks.
“On. But- I. I don’t know - they’ve got this way of sucking you in.” he responds.
“Wasn’t she dating that model last week? What’s his name again, something-” Marco starts.
“No. You know how tabloids are, they-they’re always on some shit.” Sukuna responds.
Eren puts a hand on Sukuna’s shoulder and squeezes, pushing even further.
“So did they photoshop that picture of them kissing or-?” Eren says, a teasing tone in his voice.
“She was just trying to piss me off, it-it’s all part of the chase. Plus, you should know of all people, Eren. You’re telling me everything that the tabloids write about Ricky and Y/N is true?”
Eren lets go, his throat dry at the mention of it. He can feel his knuckles turning white against the empty glass Sukuna handed back to him, Marco and Armin finishing off the conversation for him. Eren’s too busy seeing red to even pay attention, at the thought of Ricky James.
Eren's never met Ricky James. But he knows far too much. He’s read every Wikipedia page, scoured every tabloid, fan page, supporting comment, Reddit thread about him.
One of the worst parts of being famous? People can comment, theorize, and speculate about every aspect of your life. Even worse? That there’s a breadth of information to pit yourself against, to pinpoint all the perfections and none of the flaws for his self-imagined competition.
And Eren hates to think that way, to take the words of teenage girls and tabloid writers to heart, but there’s a small part of him that feels sick from the entire ordeal. Because everyone thinks Ricky James is better for you than him.
He’s a twenty year old singer-songwriter from a small town in New York, who's recently been breaking into the acting scene. Like you, he’s one of the few premiere actors who has pulled in the industry who doesn’t come from a famous family. And like you, he’s charming and mesmerizing - beloved by the people.
And ever since you both got cast in Little Women together - him as Laurie and you as Amy - and the press tours started all people can do is talk. And Eren, every self-preservationist thread of him gone - can only listen. Watch fans edit videos of you two being cute together for ten minutes, listen to podcasts where the two of you gush about each other's talents, see that Ricky was able to get time off in his schedule to go to your tour when Eren was stuck on Satellite Port.
It fills him with rage. And it makes him feel less than. And every time Eren tries to shut the voice in him down, to convince himself that it’s not true and that you’re still at your best, he comes out short. Granted, a personal affliction for negative thoughts is easier to shut out. To convince himself that he’s making it up. Seventy thousand people affirming his worst fears makes it harder.
“Wasn’t it their fault you got fired from the ensemble of Last Voyage? And Satellite Port?” Armin asks, remembering the tabloid blast from the past few months.
“Yeah, well not her but the people around her. Her dad especially - they have so much pull, it’s insane. And-and they play mind games and shit, I couldn’t even tell you the half of it. It’s-”
Right on cue, Hyla walks up to the four of them, a sickly sweet smile on her face. She’s wearing a long, willowing green gown and watches her stick her hand out for Sukuna. And Eren’s floored when he watches Sukuna purse his lip and give a polite excuse me as she whisks him away, leaving the three of them on the wall.
Armin gets pulled off the wall by Connie and Jean who have returned with Misa, who is apparently a really big fan of Armin’s. And by how pink Connie is, giggling like there’s no tomorrow, Eren knows it's better to stay away from him to avoid any chance of second hand embarrassment.
“I always miss this.” Marco says, a soft smile on his face.
“Connie being a dumbass?” Eren asks..
“I mean, not particularly that, but all of us being together. It feels weird to be so far away from everyone when we’re all doing things so different.” Marco responds.
Eren knows Marco far too well to be doing this.
“Quit trying to psychoanalyze me, Marco.” Eren asks, narrowing his eyes at him.
“That’s my job.”
Eren and Marco turn their necks to find Historia in a pale blue dress, a soft smile on her face. They both rush forward and immediately wrap their arms around her, both taking a second to press a kiss to her cheek.
“So what are we psychoanalyzing Eren about, Marco?” Historia asks, the two of them giving teasing smiles.
“Nothing. We’re not psychoanalyzing me about anything. I’m fine.”
“Y/N. Ricky James. Everyone being so far away, but her specifically.” Marco responds.
Historia pinches her mouth into a straight line, the look in her eyes making Eren feel like a scolded child. If it was a different person, Eren would feel pitied. By both of them. But he knows them both far too well to know they’re the few people in his arsenal who would fight for him.
“Ricky James. Huh? Seems like an asshole a little bit.” Historia states, swiping two ice cream cups off the tray. She hands the extra to Eren, leaning towards Marco as they share the other.
“You’re just saying that because you feel loyalty to me, Hisu. I’m sure he’s a nice guy and Y/N seems to like him.” Eren responds, his chest feeling like an anvil all of a sudden.
Historia frowns as she turns to his side, her eyebrows knit together in frustration.
“Yeah. I don’t like him because I feel loyalty to you, Eren. But I also don’t like him because he was friends with John.”
Marco and Eren both clear their throats and swallow hard at the mention, the regret sitting in Eren’s chest for even saying that in the first place. On instinct, Eren wraps his arm around Historia’s shoulder, Marco following suit as they both rest their heads against hers. She sighs at the touch, squeezing both of their shoulders in response.
Mentioning John is basically like saying the devils’ name for Historia. The music producer that she had been working with since she was seventeen and the one who all but pounced on her the second she turned eighteen. Eren thinks it’s disgusting that the same thing happened basicallly happened. Levi told him that he has forewarned him.
The two of them had made so many hit songs together, he’d basically helped Historia start her music career. When they got together that no one batted an eye. They were charming and celebrated - ignoring the fact that Historia was only nineteen and John was in his thirties. That Historia looked awkward and uncomfortable near him.
Everything came crashing down a year ago when Historia got dumped, for lack of a better word, on the side of the street and left to a swarm of paparazzi after an argument she had with him. Ymir and Sasha were the ones who got to her the fastest, ducking her into a car, and hiding her for the time being.
But in true Historia fashion, she was never one to be quiet. She wrote Dear John. Made art out of her pain, something Eren could only admire and love her for. Her effortless way of bouncing back, of jumping straight back into what hurt her for the sake of art was something only Eren could dream of possessing.
Something he envied when everything weighed so heavy on his mind.
“I’d kill him if he did anything like that to her.” Eren states.
“I’d help you.” Historia responds.
“Speaking of, I haven’t talked to her in a while. Is she taking breaks with the tour and movie and all?” Marco asks.
“She doesn’t take breaks. From the way she’s going, I don’t think she’ll stop till she gets what she wants. Which, you need that type of drive to do this. To get what she wants.”
Historia brings her hand up to Eren’s shoulder again, squeezing.
“Eren. When was the last time you talked to her?”
“It’s-it’s been a while with the time differences. When she’s not performing, she’s writing. And when she’s done writing, she’s practicing lines. There’s not really any time for that and I’m not going to be the one to pull her back when she’s in the zone and-”
“Eren. I’m sorry.” Historia says, her voice borderline pleading.
“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal-”
“Do you know how rare it is to have what you do? It’s insane that two people can even like each other at the same time but to be in love, so fully and unselfishly, you-you can’t let that get away from you.” Historia says, her eyes turning red and her voice getting louder as she goes on.
“Hisu. I-”
“We’re seeing her next week for the awards and your birthday. Just-just tell her, okay? I’ll kill you if you let something like this pass you by. Or I’ll haunt you from my grave if I’m dead.” Historia says.
“You sound like me.” Marco says, giving her a teasing smile.
“Shut up, Marco.” she responds.
Eren leans into their touch, their limbs all still tangled together, as he sighs into the air, trying to focus on the good. That they’re here with him, even if you can’t be. And that'll be you instead of them in a week.
It doesn’t work. The sadness still creeps in.
--
Eren closes out all the tabs of his laptop as he sees your picture flash against his screen, accompanied by his ringtone. He slides the video call open, the mere sight of you making his heart ache.
“Hi Eren.”
“Hi Y/N. Ready for your show?”
“Eh. Almost.”
Eren glares, narrowing his eyes at you as he waits for your laugh. You’re basically primed to perfection - your hair perfectly blown out, your sparkly silver dress pinned down, and your glittery makeup shining.
“Okay, okay. I’m ready, I just wanted to call you.”
Eren frowns, realizing that his shortcomings were so horrible, that they were enough to illicit a call from you when you were this busy.
“Because I’m a failure?”
“Eren. You’re not a failure. You-when have we ever cared what the Elms have said?”
The Elms officially released their gold standard review of Satellite Port last night. Eren wasn’t expecting much, knowing that this was far from his best work, but the review was scathing. And the articles that followed were even worse. He’d spent all morning reading them, his chest burning and his head becoming a solid rock weighing him down with every last word.
The worst thing that we see nowadays is a waste of talent. A true, self-actualized potential fall short. Our latest example? Attack on Titan star, Eren Jaeger. After garnering himself a total of three nominations the Institute last award season, it seems that the actor is on the come down. His work in Satellite Port was described as insanely mediocre, almost painful to watch knowing that this is the same boy who acted in the infamous Thank You scene - which garnered him his first Institute Award win. Eren is nominated for four awards at the Institute TV Awards next week - Best Actor in a Lead Role, Best Actor in a Drama Series, Best Scene, and Ensemble Cast - which will most likely be his last nominations ever with the work that he’s been putting out. We’ll see if Hange Zoe and Levi Ackerman can wrangle him in place for the last season of Attack on Titan and salvage his career.
“The things the Elms said about you and Armin back in the day were baseless. You- they just didn’t like you because of your parents. You’ve proved yourself over time and time again. I had all these things stacked up against me, there should have been no reason I failed and I did anyway.” Eren responds.
He watches you frown on the other side of the screen as you lean forward, your eyes washed over in concern. Eren immediately feels guilty for worrying you right before you’re about to perform, trying to save face as fast as possible.
“I’m just going to be upset about it today and I’ll be okay tomorrow, alright?” Eren asks.
“Just today, Eren. I’ll kill you otherwise, you little bitch.” you respond, giving him your best angry look.
Eren laughs at your profanities, which elicits a smile from you.
“You kiss your mom with that mouth, Y/N?”
“Mhm. And I kiss you with it too.”
“You’re so vulgar.”
“Wanna know something cool? Yesterday, when I was performing New Year’s Day at the start, the applause literally went on for n-”
“Nine minutes. And then they cheered your name for another ten after you walked off for your outfit change.” Eren responds, finishing your sentence.
“You watched?”
“Don’t be stupid. I watch you every time you perform. I like watching you - the faces you make when you’re singing your songs and smiling at people - it’s cute. Makes it easier when I miss you so much.”
He watches you sigh, your face contorting into a frown.
“I miss you too. I-I’m really excited to see you next week.”
“Me too.”
He watches you finish off your routine - as you clip on your earrings and fiddle with the ends of the hair as your team starts moving around you, pointing at their watches to indicate that you’re going to go on soon.
“Wanna know the stupidest thing about your tour, Y/N?”
“There’s stupid things on my tour?”
“Just the one.”
“Please enlighten me, wise one.”
“You sing New Year’s Day with a piano backtrack instead of playing the piano.”
“What’s the point of learning how to properly play the piano when you’ll always be there to do it for me?”
He feels his chest stirring at the words, even more when you blow him a kiss before hanging up to perform. His phone screen is left on your contact, the picture of the two of you making him smile.
He closes out all the tabs of the reviews, replacing them with the live stream of your show as he crawls back into his bed. And when he watches you wink at the camera right before you start singing New Year’s Day with your piano backtrack, he knows its for him.
--
“Ymir. This isn’t even half convincing.” Eren says, trying to swat her hands off his covered eyes.
“Shut the fuck up. You don’t even know what’s coming.” Ymir responds, pushing hard against his eyes as she swings him into the little foyer.
“It’s my birthday. Almost everyone we know is in town for the award show tomorrow. None of you guys have said happy birthday to me and now you’re inconspicuously leading me somewhere with my eyes covered. Oh, I’m dying of curiosity here, Ymir.”
“You’re no fun.” she responds, lifting her fingers off his eyes. He’s met with the sight of everyone popping confetti in his face at the same time, an excited amount of cheers filling up the air.
Mikasa and Armin reach him first, almost everyone wrangling them in his arms and smacking him on the back. Connie offers him his first legal shot as a twenty-one year old, which Levi confiscates in three seconds. Reiner rolls his eyes as he swings a sash around Eren’s neck, which elicits an insurmountable amount of laughter from everyone.
“Mother to be?” Eren asks, reading the sparkly cursive writing on the sash.
“They ran out of birthday sashes. And giving birth is basically adjacent to birthdays, so I figured it was the best one. It was either that or a quinceanera.” Reiner explains.
“A quinceanera is a real birthday dumbass.” Eren responds, shoving him to the side.
Everyone’s too overzealous and excited to hand him gifts because they’re immediately sitting him down, handing him packed boxes. Hange and Levi gift him an expensive watch, the pair of them pressing a kiss to his head, before retreating upstairs to their rooms, arms locked together and whispering in each other's ears as they go up.
Reiner and Bertholdt give him gag gifts first - which are just framed pictures of every time he’s flipped off paparazzi - before giving him his real gift, their annotated versions of the original Attack on Titan script.
Eren’s been a big fan of Reiner’s blocking notes since they were students together at the SHWA, because Reiner clearly has no conception of what the blocking notes are actually supposed to be. Instead of writing in his own staging spots and directions from the crew, he writes his own commentary on the script.
Eren flips to the marked page, the big reveal scene, and finds Reiner’s handwriting at the button.
Reiner: I’m the Armored and he’s the Colossal.
And underneath, Reiner’s inscription.
fuck.
He flips forward a few pages to find the Thank You Scene marked as well, his handwriting on the side.
Eren: I’ll wrap that scarf around you, as many times as you want.
And Bertholdt’s commentary.
yall fucking?
Eren snorts as he closes up the script, giving the two of them a smile, as Historia and Marco plant a gift in his lap next, skillfully packed in wrapping paper with his face on it.
“I’m not sure if I should ruin something so perfect. I just look so good here-”
“Eren. You’re a five on a good day.” Ymir responds, unbothered to look up from the game of soccer she was watching on the screen.
Eren frowns as he opens up the gift, a glass showcase filled with polaroids. The first is a framed picture, one of the first of the entire cast. Underneath, Historia’s handwriting is inscribed, loopy letters spelling out Long Live. Eren smiles as he sets it to the side, observing Marco's gift. A Maya Angelou poetry book.
Eren gives the group of them a smile as he scans his eyes around the room, noticing the only face missing. The only one he was looking forward to seeing. Marco grabs his hand and drags him up the staircase, as he whispers over his shoulder.
“She left a while ago to set up her gift for you. She should be in your room I think.”
Eren’s nearly sprinting up the staircase as he pushes open the door, a defeated sigh leaving his lips when he stumbles in. There’s a half wrapped gift on the bed next to you, where you’re face down and fast asleep. He can see that you’re still in your party clothes - the dress and birthday hat still stuck to your head - as you nearly drool onto his sheets.
“Nonsense, Eren. We’ll just wake her up, she was really excited to-”
“No.” Eren responds.
Marco swallows hard as he looks over at Eren, jaw half clenched and eyes narrowed down as he moves around him, shutting the door behind him. Eren carefully yanks the party hat and the shoes off your feet as he tucks you into the sheet properly, the tears burning his eyes.
He takes the halfpacked gift and note from the bed, shutting the light off, as he escapes into your room to open them. To take a second, to calm whatever burning, irritating sensation is ripping his chest right now.
The gift is a vinyl, the cover art is the same as the tattoos that you guys got together nearly two years ago. There’s a note inscribed on the front, your messy handwriting on the front.
Eren. Our music is the best music. Here’s to many more to come :D
He turns the vinyl over to find one song on each side - New Year’s Day on the front and Invisible String on the back. There’s a list of untitled listed underneath them, clearly meant to be future songs you and Eren write together.
And all Eren can feel is despair. The gross, disgusting feeling that sits in his chest and never goes away is going to drag you down too.
Isn’t it?
--
Nearly twenty four hours later and Eren’s standing on the other side of the red carpet, his palms sweaty and burning. He was supposed to walk out twenty minutes ago but his feet are glued to the foam, his throat dry.
It always comes at the worst times. His birthday party, when he saw Zeke at Christmas, when he met Ricky James at the cocktail hour and then Gianna right after.
Every little thing that’s been bothering Eren for the past day, the past few months is tumbling into this moment, where he’s staring at the red carpet and hearing the cameras flash behind the curtain but can’t summon his feet to move beyond them.
Eren’s embarrassed. He’s ashamed. He’s trying. He’s trying to swallow it, trying to move his feet, to get out there to stand next to you.
It’s humiliating.
He feels a tap on his shoulder to find Armin at his side, readjusting the collar against his neck as he gives him a smile.
“Hey.”
“Hi Min.”
“Can you do me a favor?”
Eren tilts his head to the side as Armin gives him a smile, before turning his face back towards the curtain.
“I hate walking on red carpets. But they’re easier when friends do them with me.” Armin responds.
Eren sighs, a third person now catching on to him, as he stares at his shoelaces, evenly knotted against his leather shoes.
Is he that obvious? It's like it's written on his forehead.
“So, Eren?”
“I-I don’t know if I can be a good friend right now, Armin. I think I should leave and-”
“You’re the only friend I need. Just come on, okay? No one’s going to talk about Satellite Port, especially if I’m with you. They’re just going to try and wrangle spoilers out of you for the next season.” Armin responds, holding his hand out.
Eren look down at his outstretched hand, blue eyes filled with such a vote of confidence that Eren agrees, stepping out into the flashing lights with Armin at his side, the two of them gaining a considerable amount of cheers as they walk out.
Eren walks down with Armin, snapping a few pictures, before stopping to talk to a few of the interviewers, letting Armin carry the bulk of the weight as his mind spins in thirty different directions. About where he’s standing, if he should leave, how he’s a fraud and everything in between.
Armin tugs him nearly all the way to the end as he pushes him into the auditorium, Eren’s chest heaving as he settles into his seat in between Hange and you, though your seat is still empty.
“Eren. You okay?”
Eren gives a halfhearted nod as Hange and Levi pinch their eyes in his direction, sharing a look, before leaning back in their chairs. Hange’s hand is squeezing his shoulder, which is all he tries to focus on as more people start piling in - cameras, lights, sounds getting brighter and brighter.
Eren feels a tap on his shoulder to find you at his side now, a big smile on your face.
“Oh my god. The interviewers out there were so fun.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I really liked them.”
He feels you pull for his hand, nestling it under the pleats of your dress, obscured from the public view, as you squeeze his hand three times. Eren tries to ignore the pounding, burning, twisting happening in his mind as he focuses on the announcer, giving his opening monologue. He’s clearly doing a bit of crowd work as he’s walking around, pointing and poking fun at the stars around him.
And Eren’s worst fear is self-actualized when he walks over to the two of you, his voice booming in his ears as the lights flash in his face. He can feel Hange’s grip on his shoulder tighten as he starts talking.
“Here we have an international pop-star, Y/N L/N. Originally a small town girl from Canada, her soft spoken love songs, phenomenal acting, and insane dance act have left no heart untouched.”
Eren looks over to find your cheeks pink, a big smile spread on your face. He can’t help but smile - thinking about you crying in your room after your first panels to be what you are now.
“And you. What’s your name again? It’s sweet they let fans sit with stars now.” the headliner asks him, eliciting a large amount of laughter from the crowd as he walks on.
Eren swallows hard, his eyes and throat burning as he sounds echoes in his ears.
It’s funny. It’s just a joke. It’s a joke because it’s funny that no one knows who he is. It’s funny because he’s no one compared to you and-
“I’ll be right back. I have to use the bathroom.” Eren says, standing up and walking out.
“Eren.”
He shakes your fingers off his wrist as he nearly springs out, loosening the tie around his throat and yanking the heavily starched collar around his neck. And it’s back. That sickening, sickening feeling in full flesh. The block in his chest, that’s stopping the breath from reaching his lungs - making his legs feel like lead, making every part of his brain feel heavy and his arms feel loose.
Eren reaches for the closest room, an open bar playing a video of the ceremonies as he settles onto the bench, head pressed against the concrete as he murmurs out for a glass of water.
Eren stays there - trying to feel the concrete cold against his forehead, his breath making his entire chest tremble, and his knuckles pressed white. He feels a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and lifts his head expecting Hange.
Instead, he finds an older man - nearly in his fifties with gray hair smiling down at him.
“Eren. It’s nice to see you again.”
Eren lifts his head, trying to rack his fried brain from where he knows him.
“You know, Eren. We’ve been in the same room hundreds of times. Yet, we’ve barely talked for two minutes.”
“Ss-sorry. I don’t mean to-”
“You and I could be really helpful to each other.”
He slides over his card, the name gleaming back at him as the memory comes back. Years ago, at that panel, where he met him the first time. Scott Clarkson, the Stone Studios producer.
“If you want your reputation back, if you don’t want to be the butt of the joke anymore, if you want to be the one talked about next to her instead of Ricky James, you’d give the number a call. Instead of ripping it half on principle this time.”
Eren watches him slide off the bench, a smile pressed on his face, as he turns his face back to the screen, watching you accept the Best Actress in a Drama Series Role. He looks back down at the card, the silver shine reflecting on his face.
Eren tucks it into his pocket. And calls the next day.
It's the worst mistake he makes.
--
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paring: Dragon Hybrid!Kirishima x Princess!Reader
warning(s): oral (reader receiving), outdoor shenanigans, dirty talk, hint of a size kink, but overall pretty vanilla. Also, mentions of chronic illness - nothing descriptive but it is in there!!
authors note: hello everyone! Here I am, finally posting on this new blog how exciting! This was a request/commission that my darling wife gracie (@/melodramaticmura) asked of me; as she really wanted a nibble of this Royal AU I have brewing in the background. May you enjoy the fantasy just as much as I did when I wrote it. 🔮
“Do you think we’re going to beat them?”
Your soft voice rang out in the small carriage you were currently riding in; seeing in the corner of your eye the way your travel companion rolled her eyes - her own soft, playful, scoff barely heard over the sound of the wheels hitting the rocks that were scattered along the used path.
“I suppose you would hope so, hm?” She teased, a familiar impish grin crossing her lips as she looked at you, “If they do, then they cheated.”
“Cheated?” You couldn't help but let a little laugh over such a childish accusation, eyes leaving their spot of gazing out the window briefly to fully look at your friend “Why would you accuse them of something so infantine?”
“Because it would be the truth! We started our journey two days before they did and we are on the fasted route to Edhellond. The only way they could have a chance to beat us is if they were to fly, which would be cheating. Though again, I suppose that is what you are hoping for.”
“What are you on about?” You groaned, watching as your friend shrugged her shoulders before looking out her own window.
“You’re wanting to see him again, the Southern Prince’s royal advisor, why else would your eyes be glued to the sky, if not to see if there’s a dragon.”
“You’re so full of it…” You smiled, foot kicking out to hit her leg; unable to help yourself in joining in on her harmonious giggles that filled the compartment at your actions.
It was almost the Autumn Equinox. And, as per traditions from long ago, the eastern Kingdom of Edhellond had extended their invitation to royalty and nobles from all over the land, yourself included, as they celebrated the harvest in their land.
It was a tradition all kingdoms held, as they wrought the fruit their land had provided to them. The North, Kingdom of Dorthonion, would have their celebration in the winter, to hold a solstice celebration in lieu of their harvest of their silver, lumber, and pelts of the animals they so tenderly took care of. The South did the same in the summer, the Kingdom of Deira would host a grand solstice party of their own over their spices and jewels, with grand displays of lights in the sky. Yourself, in the west, would celebrate in the spring for that was when the fruit within all of Amon Lanc would finally start to bloom; the Equinox commemoration would be filled with only the finest fruits - with your friend that sat before aiding the celebration efforts as her own kingdoms would follow in line with yours.
And now, it was time for autumn and Edhellond’s chance to shine.
Normally you, and your fellow traveling companion, would scarcely attend the festivity - as you would with most of the grand seasonal events - for the fall season was also a time of great harvest for your kingdoms; too much work was needed to be done to finish collecting all the crops of your lands and prepare for the winter ahead.
But this year things were a little different. With the raging war within the other lands finally coming to end, celebrations such as these were no longer on hold; as were all other royal customs and traditions. You and your fellow friend, another princess, had debuted shortly before the war broke out, halting the usual royal tour that would follow a debuting princess as they traveled across the different kingdoms. To mingle in the different courts and customs in hopes to gain a suitor and marriage proposal.
You were now on that tour, as a favour to your friend. To not only help her with the momentous task of gaining the affections, and thereby a marriage proposal, of one of the crown princes before the spring comes once more, but to help guide her and be a close companion that she would desperately need on the journey.
And you would not complain, nor turn down, such a favour for you had longed to go on tour, for traveling was in your blood; a favoured recreation. And though the pressures were not so high upon your own head, there were still present. And having her there would also ease your own burdens and stress of courtship and finding your own companion.
Furthermore, it only made sense to go to Edhellond and join in their fun, to enjoy the beauty of their land and sea for it was the next stop on the tour. As you already spent the entirety of the summer months in Deria, and participated in the Summer Solstice they hosted. It seemed only fitting, and proper, to attend this one.
And due to such a hold, from the politics and practices normally held, the other royal families thought the same. From all over the land, the North, the West, and even now the South who had histories of finding such thing unworthy of their time, have now all decided to gather to join in on the festivities.
“It’s because they want a chance to court you~” you would coo and tease your friend as your slowly traveled east, always enjoying the way the tapestry princess would brush you off and claim otherwise - you knew different.
“Perhaps they want to see you, my darling dove.” She would snap back, though her tone never biting as she would smile up at you from her stitchwork; a task that always left you in awe as despite the bumpy road her work was always pristine.
The teasing would never cease throughout the journey, to lighten the mood and boredom you both faced as the carriage that held you both unhurriedly made its way to the desired destination. As reading poetry, delicately doing petite points, or looking in the sky in hopes to see a dragon could only do so much to lessen the underlying dread and anxiousness the journey to each kingdom would give.
Nonetheless, despite the agonizingly slow journey, you arrived in Edhellond. Being graciously welcomed by your hosts, House Blumenthal, as they fawned over your arrival; with many maids and servants scurrying about to properly prepare all that you needed to enjoy the Equinox that was now only a week away.
They did the same, merely a few days later when the Southern Royalty, and your newfound companions, arrived. You couldn’t help but watch in amusement as many a person scampered about around them; causing Prince Bakugou ire.
As well, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes when you were finally caught by your friend. Telling her with counterfeit annoyance to “stop being such a child” when she nudged your side with a giggle.
It was not long after their arrival that the day of the festivity came to fruition; not long after their arrival that you were cooped up in your chambers for almost the entirety of the day to be appropriately done up by maids that you were not used to.
You wished you could get ready with your friend as you normally did. Longing for her company and chatter, something that always eased any tension and nerves before such a large event. To properly thank, and admire her work while she was there, as you were dressed in a gown of striking red with cloth and jeweled leaves so carefully carved into your bodice and skirts in the most flattering of ways; with a beautiful crown-like headpiece to match.
Your only solace was that she was in the room next to you, so close yet so far, and that she herself was begrudgingly going through the same motions. Unable to have you lace her up in a manner that she preferred, or to carefully place your crown upon her brow.
You didn’t even have a moment once you both emerged from your chambers to do so, wishing you could also fawn over the light orange and golden gown she so delicately wore, before being swept into the festivities. Being whisked from person to person to engage in idle chatting, courtesies and false decorum of court, and being swept away every now and then to partake in a dance with some wealthy lord or prince of a small kingdom.
Normally at events, and parties, such as these you were glued to your friend’s hip. Giggling and chatting throughout the night as you partook in the copious amounts of drink oft provided as you watched from afar the tribulations of many an unwitting person as they stumbled about trying to navigate all of it properly. Only engaging with other nobility when approached, or when members of your party would take either of your arms in theirs and force you to mingle.
Now you could only watch her from afar as she slowly made her way through the throughs of people wishing for a word, as many a lord took your hand to wish for a dance. You could feel your face start to ache, your rosy cheeks sore from all the polite smiles you forced yourself to give out of courtesy as you obliged all their requests; trying your hardest to stay engaged with their meager and boring chatter.
Your eyes could not help but wander after a while, towards where your friend was. Glancing every now and then to see which partner had currently held her verbally captive as you twirled about. Eyes becoming almost glued to her when you caught her conversing with the dragon lord, and advisor to the Deria’s crown Prince Bakugou, Kirishima; the man that she had been teasing you about throughout the journey to this kingdom.
What they were talking about you could not know, the prattle of everyone else around you far too loud to be able to hear, but your curiosity was undoubtedly peaked - especially at the small glances they passed your way, and your friend’s impish smiles.
“What has your attention, pretty birdy, hmm?”
“S-sorry,” Your apology was almost breathless as your trance was broken away from the scene before you, shaking your head gently to rid yourself of the slight stupor you were in “I suppose it is rather rude of me to not pay attention to you, Keigo.”
“Well yes, but I suppose comfort is playing a factor,” Keigo smiled, twirling you away from the crowd so you could once again focus on him “You are forgiven, dear princess.”
“I would hope so.” You gave an airy chuckle, eyes still unable to meet his gaze; not due to embarrassment, but rather being unable to handle the soft look you knew his eyes were casting you.
It was the same gaze that caused you to agree to the dance to begin with. His knowledge of you never being able to refuse him when he looked at you like that, especially for something so minute, was used against you. It always was, if you were honest, even when you both were young children. That despite your aching, sore, feet and your desire to know what your friend could possibly be chatting about with Lord Kirishima, you relented to those soft eyes.
You were just happy that there was an air of comfortability with him, an obvious one due to the familiar bond you shared, so you would not have to put on false airs. That decorum was now not a requirement and you could just simply relax for but a moment.
“Though I do wonder,” His voice rumbled, breaking over the almost silent shuffle of your feet “if some chatting nobles in a crowd are more important than a dance with me?”
“In this moment,” You lifted your head, eyes meeting his gaze for the first time since the dance began “it is.”
“Oh, pray tell?”
“The princess of Cashmerask, my friend as you know, is in that crowd and I wish to know what she is up to.”
“And you believe that seeing her, is more important than a dance with me? Your head knight whom you haven’t seen in almost a fortnight?”
“Keigo,” Your voice turned almost icy, a warning to him not to push further with his thoughts “I do not think I need to tell you why I believe it is. Nor, do I think you want me to.”
“No, your highness,” His tone matched yours as his eyes narrowed down onto you, “I think I do.”
“To put it simply, bonds formed by choice are more important than the ones formed by duty. My want, and thoughts, to see her take my interest away and thereby hold more importance to me than a simple dance with you. Bar none.”
You knew what you said was almost cruel, but you found your tongue acting in defense of your friend and overall desires before your mind could have a chance to stop it. And you were then not surprised when he abruptly halted your dance - not bothering to care that it had now caused a slight chain of reaction as other pairs bumped into you.
Keigo gave you a knowing look, one of anger mixed with almost a sense of hurt, before stomping off; pushing his way through the pairs of people now in his path due to his actions. You made a motion to go after, your feet taking a step towards the open and crooked line he had made before they faltered; a sound wafted over you and caused you to halt.
It was your name. It was not spoken loudly but rang across the room like a ringing bell. When your eyes peered over to where in the room it came, you saw your closest friend; beckoning you towards her with a gentle motion of her hand.
At that moment you were hesitant, in all ways. Your mind could not stop its racing for even a moment to give you a sense of clarity, a direction of which action to take. On whether or not you go and comfort your oldest friend, a man who has spent his whole life looking after you and your happiness, as you always had whenever you scabbled. Or to simply enjoy your night, to answer the delicate call of your other friend.
It only took a breath, when the murmurs of the people around you started to fill your ears, bringing you back into the reality of the moment that you made your decision.
And you decided to choose enjoyment.
You swiftly moved from where you stood, away from the throngs of people whispering about you, towards where your name had been called; towards the reached-out hand of your friend. The gentle squeeze she gave once your hand was in hers, along with the soft smile, was more than enough reassurance to know you made the right choice.
Especially when that soft smile turned into one of playful mischievousness as she tucked your arm under hers and dragged you away towards the party of people she was currently engaged in conversation with.
The party in question, that stood waiting for your arrival and your friends’ return, was but only a few people. Of course, other lords and ladies smiled kindly when your feet finally stilled, but only two brightened as if awaiting you; proving they were the few that kept your friend company as you danced.
It was Neito Monoma, a prince of a smaller kingdom here in the Eastern land, idly chatting with the red-headed man who had been plaguing your thoughts these past few weeks. You had never met Prince Monoma, at least not recently enough to be in your memory, but you figured out all you needed to know about who he was when the pair of you walked up to him.
He stood with hands behind his back, shoulders squared and upright, in a manner similar to the lord he was chatting with. But unlike Kirishima who held a quiet grace in how he stood, held an aura of approachability, Monoma seemed to stand this way not out of formality but rather in a way of dominance bordering on pompusiouness. In an exaggeration of his view of being more important that the people around him. The smug smile he cast your way was more than enough proof to showcase what you thought.
You cast your friend a glance, eyes squinting slightly to emote your pity towards her for having to converse with the likes of Monoma for more than a single moment. She responded, eyebrows raising slightly to show her agreement, a gesture small enough that it went unnoticed before her usual polite smile came back into view as she greeted the small party.
“Ah, there you are!” Monoma greeted, bowing his body in greeting as he did so “I was wondering when you would come back. You took so long, I thought you might have run off!”
His laugh made you want to scowl, the forgery of genuineness within it almost too much for you to handle; but, as the lady you were, your smile never faltered as you bent your knees is a small curtsy towards the Prince.
“I do apologize for that, your highness, my sore feet were the cause of us taking our time to get back to you. I’m sure you can understand?”
“Well, as a matter of fact - !”
“Oh, I am sure you do, Prince Monoma. Plenty of women fawn at your feet for a chance at a waltz.” Your friend interjected, cutting off any chance the snobbish prince had of boasting further about himself - though new to you it was clear she had more than enough of it. “But, dancing is not why we are here, now is it?”
“No, it is not,” Monoma smiled, the flattery given to him a proper diversion from the rudeness of being interrupted “rather an invitation for a walk and chat within the palace gardens.”
“The gardens?” You uttered, your interest piqued over the chance to get away from the event.
“Yes, you see, I bumped into Lord Kirishima while on my way to try and find some air, you know how heavy rooms cause my head to ache. ” Your friend began, pulling you closer to her “And while we were figuring a solution, Prince Monoma here joined in and brought up the palace gardens; boating about how they were the most beautiful of all the 5 kingdoms. He so kindly offered to show me them, but of course, I could not just do so without you. After all, we spend many an afternoon enjoying the flora!”
She squeezed your arm, a giddy smile appearing across her lips as she recalled that sweet and shared pastime of yours out loud, before continuing on. “So, I asked if you could join us. If, of course, your feet would allow you the ability to do so.”
“Sore they are, but they never enough to stop me from such a lovely invitation.” You smiled, squeezing your friend’s arm in kind “How thoughtful of you to think of me.”
“Well, truly, Lord Kirishima is to thank for his aide in the matter.” Your friend directed your thanks towards him with a hand flourish “He so kindly was willing to offer his arm to you while I was conflicted about the matter. For I would have loved for you to take my arm, but Prince Monoma had already taken it. And as we all know, it is rather improper for a lady to go unescorted.”
“Oh, is that so?” You uttered, eyes scanning across his form before returning to look at your friend; her giddy smile turned impish once again as she gave you a sly wink.
“Uh, yes, your highness” Kirishima stuttered out, stepping forward to extend his arm for you to take, an expectant and kind smile on his face. “If you will allow me.”
“Of course.” You nodded, hand finding the crook in his elbow to latch on to.
You watched as your friend did the same, casting one last glance towards you as she took the arm of her companion for the evening stroll; it was clear to you by the look in her eyes, and in the invitation as a whole, that she was willing to sacrifice her night in the company of a man that she despises just so you could have a moment alone with the man who you had grown quite fond of. It warmed your heart. With a deep breath, you nodded your head, gesturing to Monoma, and thereby Kirishima, to lead the way out of the grand hall and into the gardens.
~
The gardens themselves were beautiful, the perfectly manicured hedges and flowerbeds proof of the care that was put in to maintain them; however, they were not as grand or spectacular as the haughty prince had promised. That gardens within your own kingdom would put to shame what you saw here.
The only consolation you found were the glimpses you were able to catch of the ocean that slumbered nearby the castle. How their crashing waves soothed your soul as you took in breath after breath of the salty sea breeze - an old and constant comfort of yours that always brought your mind and heart ease as you partook in it.
“Do you like the water?” Kirishima asked, watching as you slowly opened your eyes to blink up at him.
You hadn’t even realized you closed them, averting your gaze away from him in slight embarrassment as you nodded your head; feeling heat rush to your face, flushing your cheeks.
“What about it do you like?” He prodded gently, wanting to hear your sweet and soft voice speak to him.
“It reminds me of my childhood.” You muttered, fingers twiddling nervously as they rested against his arm; eyes looking anywhere but him.
“How so? If you do not mind answering.”
“Well it, um - ” You gently cleared your throat, the short amount of time of disuse had a stronger effect on you than you realized. “You see, though I was named because my parents thought I was a blessing from God, I had more than my fair share of struggles. A sickly child I was, bedridden most days. My family did all they could to try and help heal whatever ailment I came under.
My father came up with a possible solution; a castle estate here in the Eastern land. It is nearby actually, a short boat ride from this harbor. I spent a lot of my childhood here, adolescents too, and it helped, oh gods did it help. When I was here I felt like I could breathe again, could move again, and enjoy life again. I suppose my reaction to the water’s breeze was more involuntary than anything; like greeting an old friend.”
You sighed, enjoying the salty breeze within your lungs once more before shyly looking up at your taller companion; his usual gentle gaze and smile made a similar one grace your lips.
“Though I suppose it sounds a little silly” You mumbled, your bashfulness getting the better of you as realized all that you said.
“Not silly at all,” Kirishima reassured, a hand coming down to rest atop of yours; engulfing it easily and passing along its warmth “I rather like when you ramble on about all your adventures. I think them, and you, are rather fascinating.”
“Y-you do?” You blinked up at him, making his smile widen.
“Yes, I do. If you would please indulge me further, I would love to hear more about your previous times here.”
“W-well, I would be happy to.”
Focusing your gaze ahead you took a shaky breath before beginning again, telling stories about your first few times at the castle by the sea; how you had to adjust to the new climate, and of course avoid the water at all cost - you never did learn to swim even though you spent so much time by the shore. You recalled stories of boat rides to see the isles, of fishermen and their grand tales of how they survived the harshness of the sea, and of visitors that would come to see you and join in on your fun.
“The Princess of Cashmerask actually spent nearly a year with me here.”
“Really!?” Kirishima exclaimed, watching you closely as he hung onto every word you uttered, with a smile that widened with every story that passed your lips “For what reason?”
“Her head of course. She would be able to tell you much better what her condition is, for at times I am unclear about it. However what I do know is that she had it her whole life, and it plagued her worse than ever before, or since, when we were fifteen years old. My father offered her father a retreat here to see if it would help.
We spent that year together, slowly getting better. It was actually how we became so close, for we only had each other for company. We were practically forced to become friends. Of course, we did have our royal advisors - Lord Tamaki and Tomura - visit us on occasion. But that was it; not even our Head Knights could come, they were too focused on training. And of course, once Keigo focuses on something it is impossible for him to stray from it.”
“Ah yes, Lord Keigo…” Kirishima muttered, causing your ramble to halt as you look back up at him.
“Yes, what about him?”
“Well, I… noticed your little altercation earlier, while you were dancing.” Kirishima came to rest the casual pace he had begun, fully looking at you with earnest eyes “And I could not help but think it had something to do with me. Perhaps my conversation with your friend had caused a small rift between you two. Whatever it may be, I wish to sincerely apologize for it.”
“Nothing to apologize for, Lord Kirishima -”
“Please, while we are alone, call me Ejirou.” He whispered out, eyes closing when he heard you test his name on your tongue.
“Again, nothing to apologize for. Lord Keigo is a passionate man, always quick to jump from feeling to feeling; with jealousy being the worst contender for him. I certainly will not blame you, nor my closest friend, over something so trivial as that.”
You watched him sigh his relief, all the tension draining from his rigid shoulders and back, as he smiled down at you. Starting back up the peaceful jaunt you were having in the gardens, taking care to walk exceptionally slower over a stone bridge; allowing you the time to enjoy the beautiful pond it sat above.
After a pace or two within the newfound silence, you could no longer quell the curiosity in your heart; allowing yourself to take advantage of the conversational door the man beside you had opened.
“May I ask what you two were speaking of?” You questioned, eyes still staring down at the crystalline waters.
“Speaking? Who?” Kirishima shook his head, confusion of your question clearly catching him off guard.
“The Princess and you,” you clarified “ I am merely asking out of curiosity. Though I could not hear over all those people, I was still able to see. And I could tell you were speaking about me simply by the way you both constantly gazed in my direction. So I ask, what was it?”
You watched him pause, the words that he wanted to say stuck on his tongue, as he tried to formulate a proper response. You couldn’t help but smile coyly to yourself as you saw the tips of his ears turn as bright of crimson as his hair; you finally got him into a position where he was bashful for once as you waited patiently.
“I cannot lie to you,” He finally muttered out, “especially not after you have been so honest with me.”
He gently removed your arm from his; unable to quell the nervousness he felt as he started to play with the nailbeds on his hands. It was clear to you he was worried that what he may utter next would disgust you, would possibly make you cross with him. And being the gentleman he always was, he allowed you to be able to get away from him if you so chose.
You could not lie; it only made the curiosity within you burn even brighter; to have your heart beat faster and faster and you hung so tightly to the still air - awaiting for his next utterance of words.
“Her highness, your friend, we bumped into each other and started a conversation as one would naturally do. It was polite enough at first, but as it progressed more and more drink got involved… and well, it loosened our tongues.” He made a gesture with his hands, a shrug to accompany it, subconsciously trying to prove to you that it was a harmless course of action.
Which you knew, you could not be able to count the number of times you were in a similar situation; that the conversations with your friend would turn more risque as the night progressed, as your throats were continuously quenched with whatever ale was nearby.
“It turned scandalous, didn’t it?” You replied, your tone as mirthful as your smile as you gaze up at him.
“Y-yes, yes it did.” He gave a breathless chuckle and you could see some of the tension release from his shoulders as he held your gaze for a moment, before bashful looking away again.
“So, tell me! What was it?” You giggled, your body moving slightly to get back into his line of sight - a tactic to try and get him to continue, which worked.
“Dragons are known to hoard.” Kirishima stated a silent laugh raised his chest as he watched you crook a brow “That was what the topic turned into.”
“And….?”
“Well it started simple enough, she inquired about what kind of dragon hoards what. And truly there is no set dragon to a set hoard; it is all based on an individual’s wants and desires. She then asked of mine, what I would hoard.”
“And what did you say?” Your tone had gone down to a whisper, almost mimicking his as you gazed expectantly at him.
“I jokingly replied that I wished to hoard beautiful women, to try and make her laugh. But she ended up calling my bluff, telling me that there was only one beautiful woman I wished to hoard as she gazed out at the crowd.” His eyes finally met yours again, his tone barely above a whisper, “And when I followed her gaze, it landed on you.”
Honesty was filled within his gaze, one you could not deny nor claim that he was simply making jest at your expense. Nor could you deny there was something else held within his eyes, something dark that made your stomach flip in anticipation.
It was at this point that you realized how secluded you currently were. How alone you had both found yourselves deep within the palace gardens. How not a soul was nearby to hear your conversations, or to accidentally stumble upon you. How tall, and almost opposing he seemed to be, as he now loomed over you.
And it surprised you how unafraid you were.
“W-well, she does have a habit of just saying things to get a reaction out of people.” You stammered, taking a step back as his intense stare and presence made you feel timid “I-I am sure that this was -”
“It wasn’t.” Kirishima declared, closing the distance one again - effectively trapping you against a well-trimmed wall of shrubbery. “She somehow knew my desire for you, somehow could see it as plainly as day, and that is why she called my bluff.”
‘And made this ploy.’ you whispered in your own mind, your own tongue feeling like sand as it stayed heavy within your mouth; not being able to utter a word as his arms came to rest on either side of your head. Caging you, and forcing you to look at his honest and passionate gaze.
“And I cannot help but think,” His voice barely a murmur but it rang loudly in your head “that perhaps I am right in my assumptions that you feel the same.”
His head lowered, nose brushing against yours, as his eyes scanned your face for any form of discomfort; for any sign you may give to have him stop. But how could you? How could you tell him to back away, to allow you to scamper off when this was all you ever wanted?
Ever since you were a little girl you read of romances in stories and poems and all you wished for was to have a grand romance like the ones written in ink. To have a man tell you he wanted you. And now here you were with the one man who had been the catalyst of all your daydreaming since you met him, been the focus of your affections and fondness - no matter how frustrating - for months now.
How could you turn him away?
Despite the rapid beating of your heart, the nervousness that bedded itself deep within your soul and caused your breath and being to falter; the timidness within you, that has always been a part of your and claimed your demeanor, made your tongue lead and left you speechless. But despite it all, you still found yourself brave enough to look in his eyes, to ignore their intensity, unable to bring yourself to break it.
“Can I…” His whisper tickled your skin, as his lips barely brushed your own “Can I have the chance to make true of my claims? To hoard you away?”
You finally broke his gaze, for a moment, unable to help yourself to look at the lips you wanted to have pressed against yours, to have your passion known to him. Once you did, he did not hesitate to act on your silent request; his lips finally collided with yours in a kiss that set your body aflame, allowing your eyes to finally close and indulge in the fervid kiss.
His lips felt almost chapped as they continued to push against yours languidly. You could only assume the unhurried motions were an attempt to keep you against him, to not be scared off by his passion. You felt his hands delicately cup the sides of your face, gently his thumbs caressed your cheekbones in a soothing manner; sweet and calming, a far cry from how yours balled so tightly to the fabric of his collar that your knuckles were turning white.
You wanted him closer, wanted to feel all he had to offer; and though you appreciated he was being a gentleman, right now you didn’t want one. Right now, you simply wanted the beast you knew that lurked beneath the surface.
His lips pressed harder against yours, fueled by your arms that wound their way around his neck; fingers nestling within his thick crimson hair. His gentle hold of your face turned a little rough as he tilted your head up to better meet his kiss; rendering you more under his control - not that you minded in the slightest.
Your lungs were burning, begging for air that you refused to give, too enraptured by your kiss with him. Perhaps you were worried that if you were to part first it would be a sign to Kirishima that you wanted to end the ardent embrace; something furthest from the truth. You ignored the pain, focused on your fevered kisses, waiting for him to break first.
After a moment, though it felt more like an eternity, he did; gently holding your face away from his as he allowed you both to catch your breath. You could feel the warmth of his panting against your lips; you wanted to lunge forward to kiss him again but his hold made it impossible to do so.
“Please, don’t stop.” You whispered, hand tugging his hair gently to showcase your urgency “I want more, please don’t stop now Eijirou.”
“We can’t, my princess, not here.” He whispered back in kind, nose nudging gently against your own “This is no place for a woman, such as yourself, to be taken and defiled here.”
“Who says I am being defiled?” You countered, “To be defiled means I would not want this, and that is furthest from the truth. And besides, look around. No one can stumble upon us here in this labyrinth of flora, not unless we hear it first.”
You watched as his head ducked away, clearly debating between your words - your wants and needs - and propriety; an act he held most highly in his esteem. His hold on you slackened, allowing you to tip up and place a gentle kiss upon his lips.
“Please, Eijirou. I want nothing more at this moment than you. Allow me to indulge in you, and you the same.”
Your pleading words swirled in Kirishima’s mind, you could see for yourself the conflict he was battling by the way his eyes bore into yours. The way they swirled; the way the bright crimson of good within him tried to overtake the blackened lust that was overtaking it. The battle was won when his eyes turned dark and he attacked your lips once more, with a small growl of frustration.
You feel like you’re suffocating once more, but like then you could not bring yourself to care. Your hands took hold of his face, pulling him closer as you pleased, as you took his place in dominating the kiss. You could tell Kirishima did not mind, as you could feel his hands wander. Gently they caress your skin, pinching at your hips, and groping at the mounds on your chest.
You mewled at the new sensations, never before had a hand so large and warm touched you in such a way; it was euphoric and all-consuming as you tried to stay afloat in it all. His tongue entered your mouth when you mewled once more. The dominant caressing he did against your tongue added to the overwhelming euphoria you are experiencing.
You tugged at his hair, unable to stop yourself from ending this kiss, and cried out when he groped your chest harder; pinching at your now perked buds. Your departure from the kiss did not deter Kirishima, nor stop him from continuing his lust-filled actions, as he simply started trailing his lips and kisses down your neck and chest. Tugging the front of your bodice down to expose you to the cool night’s air.
“By the gods, you are so beautiful.” He pants out between his tugging on your dress and the soft kisses he litters along your collar bone “No fairer a maiden…”
Before you could counter, to muster the words that would tell him otherwise or shield away his view, he began his attack on your chest. The nipping of his sharp teeth against your delicate, sensitive skin, caused you to cry out almost painfully at the new sensations but the way you rubbed your thighs together and clung to his hair was proof you enjoyed his deliciously rough treatment.
You begged for more, loudly through the open air, trying desperately to cling to him; to feel him closer to you, not wanting him to disappear and end this moment of sin. And Kirishima was more than willing to oblige your sinful request, for he could not lie and say images of you like this did not plague his dreams. And he would dare not deny himself the one chance he may have to have all of you like this; to consume you in the beastly manner he dreamed.
He hastily pulled at your skirts, pulling them up as he lowered himself to the ground; crouching as he kissed at the newly exposed skin of your stomach, too focused on your soft skin to care about how the dirt was ruining the knees of his trousers.
“Be a good girl for me,” He whispered against your hip, hands holding the expensive fabric against your waist “And keep your skirts here, they will be in the way.”
You nod your head, hands coming down to replace his to hold your skirts in place; your breathing faltered when you look down at him, seeing just how close he was to your more private and sensitive area. Your voice hitched, no words being able to form as he gently took hold of your leg, hand gently caressing your thigh, as he placed it on his shoulder. The other leg followed, and the lack of balance startled a squeak out of you as you leaned back against the flora behind you.
“P-put one down!” You asked, tone still wavering with the uncertainty of your predicament “I’m going to fall!”
“You will not fall, I wouldn’t let that happen.” You felt his chuckle against your inner thigh, the grazing of his lips made you feel dizzy, “As you know, dragon borns are strong, able to lift the heaviest of trees with ease. And you….”
You felt his lips place small kisses up your inner thigh; slowly and deliberately. Your muscles jumped, involuntarily, as he made his way up, further and further, until he reached your panties. There he placed a lingering kiss in the center, where a small patch of wetness formed, before looking up at you “Are the furthest thing from being heavy.”
Kirishima gave you no chance to reply, or even think of a retort before he hooked your panties to the side and gave a similar lingering kiss to your bare cunt before he trailed his tongue up the entirety of your folds; tongue flicking delicately before departing. The deep moan he gave made blood rush to your face and ears, legs instinctively knowing to wrap around his shoulders to keep him securely there.
He repeats the motion, over and over, not relenting or allowing you another chance of reprieve once he got a taste of you. His tongue licked its way up and down, sometimes slowly to allow you to feel every groove that was on the muscle, to tease you and make you whimper for more. Other times quickly, being so enraptured by your taste that he could not stop himself from eagerly lapping at the juices that wept out of you; moaning in delight.
It was that moaning, the vibrations it sent right through to your soul, as you tried your best to hold on; to the skirts around your waist and to the mortal plane as you slowly ascended towards a heavenly release. Crying out his name, and begging him to keep going.
His words were sinful too, as they were whispered against your leaking cunt. Telling you things that would make you whine, as you would look away.
“Ah, ah, keep your eyes on me. Or else I’ll stop.” He would coo, tongue flicking at your clit swiftly, it always took you great effort to follow his instruction but the reward was always so sweet “There’s a good girl, so so good for me. You want me to keep eating this pretty pussy, don’t you?”
He wouldn’t continue until you said yes, a task made difficult by how brainless you felt, how overcome by desire and need he made you feel. But once you did, once you whimpered out a pitiful ‘yes’, he would reward you by sucking gently at your bundle of nerves. You could feel the pierce of his nails in your hips as he held you exactly how you wanted, your grip tightening whenever you tried to squirm away from his assault.
You would be embarrassed, especially at the position you were in with your skirts falling haphazardly around you and the man crouching on the ground between your legs; the slurping sounds accompanied by both your moans would give a passerby no doubt of what salacious acts were unfolding. But you couldn’t even bring yourself into the realm of care or reason, of decorum on propriety, not with the magic he was inflicting upon you.
He was ravenous, that was the only way you could describe it. Ravenous to eat you whole and hear you cry out his name. And you felt yourself being hurdled towards euphoria you had never known before, one that was powerful and made you shudder in fear and delight of what may come.
Your powerful release comes far sooner than you thought.
Kirishima forced his tongue into your twitching hole, slowly pumping into you and groaning a the tightness he felt; unable to help himself from pulling you closer, compromising the precarious potion you were in when he felt you clamp down on him. He knew you were close, that you were touching the edges of heaven, and he wanted you to experience it.
“Come on, that’s it, princess, let go. Let go for me, want to see you when you cum, come on” His words were muffled, but you could clearly hear him, as his thumb hastily circled your clit.
It was what sent you over the edge, allowing your back to arch and your eyes to shut as you tried to withstand the waves of pleasure that seared through you. Your mind and body seemed to shatter as your vision behind your eyes blurred white as you tensed in his hold.
“Yeah, that’s it. Use my face, good girl.” Kirishima groaned, though you could barely hear him as you rode the waves of your high, lapping at your release like a man starved; he only stopped when he heard your whines and felt your hips try to move away from him; too overstimulated and wanting a moment of reprieve.
He allowed you just that; gently placing your panties back and slowly uncrossing your legs from around his back, to gingerly place them on the ground below you. Being observant of how your legs wobbled, keeping hold of you until they stood more strongly on their own; allowing him to slowly stand once more and granting your skirts the freedom to descend gracefully around your frame once more.
He took the red pocket square that sat so neatly in his jacket to clean his now soiled face, taking his own moment to catch his breath and come back to reality, before placing it in his coat pocket. He delicately took your arms, with a smile, and looped them back around his own; tucking you into his side like before.
“Think we’ve been gone long enough, we should get back before people get suspicious.” He whispered, slowly guiding you back the way you came, as you hum contently.
“Yes, I think my friend wants to rid herself of Prince Monoma by now.” You giggle, still a little breathless from your exhausting little tryst “Perhaps we’ll have another moment like this soon.”
“Soon? Do you really think that we are going back to the party? That what we did was all for tonight?” Kirishima asked, his tone devious as he smiled down at you; his sharp teeth giving the illusion of danger.
“I-I am not sure…?” You mumbled out, shrinking a little at his piercing and dark gaze; you could not help but feel like prey stuck in a trap. “We’re not?”
“No, my pretty bird, you asked me to ravage you; pleaded with me to do so. And I intended to make true of my word.”
may our fates cross again
#just gonna#just gonna leave this here#been awhile seen i posted i know#but what can ya do?#anyway please let me know if you like it#cause i will be tempted to post more if there is an interest#anyway away I go#kirishima eijirou#mha kirishima eijirou#bnha kirishima eijirou#mha kirishima#bnha kirishima#kirishima eijiro x reader#kirishima x reader#bnha x reader#mha x reader#kirishima smut#kirishima eijirou smut#bnha smut#mha smut#tw illness#tw chronic illness
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intro + masterlist
hello! I'm em, and welcome to my little space where I let everything in my silly little brain come to life :) I write mainly motorsport works, but there are some fics I love too much to go unpublished. learn a little bit more about me and access my masterlist⬇️
about me:
I'm american, but my family is from france so I speak french and a bit of Italian and spanish (these two might be a stretch)
I love most sports including f1, indycar, soccer/football, rugby and even american football
some of my favorite f1 drivers are daniel, mick, pierre, carlos, charles, lando and seb (but really I support most of them)
I also love books and reading and music <3
masterlist:
a one sentence summary is below each fic. for a longer summary, please check link of the original post.
as a note, I am an adult, so most of my work typically contains allusions to adult themes and/or adult themes. I will try to tag all of my work appropriately, but please be sure to check the more specific tags in each individual fic for specific mature content.
fics containing smut are denoted with a ★
motorsport/formula 1
DANIEL RICCIARDO
august | sneak peek | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4
things have changed since the last yearly visit to the winter beach house, but if there's one thing that hasn't, it's the magnetism between callie o'connor and her best friend daniel. with an unspoken history and the urge to navigate their changing lives, the two bring the crew back together for one more winter at the house. is this the august trip that truly changes everything?
simply the best | pt. 2 (★)
dan has covid in bahrain, and you come down with it, too.
LANDO NORRIS
holiday jitters
the aftermath of two friends hiding their feelings sharing a drunken kiss.
taking care of him
taking care of lando during and after the spanish gp.
medicine
lando wakes up sick before the brazil gp and he knows just the medicine he needs
CHARLES LECLERC
pancakes for dinner
charles has pre-race jitters, and only he won't feel better until he admits something.
stuck in my brain
following the French GP, charles searches for comfort from his best friend.
CARLOS SAINZ
surprise, surprise | pt. 2
family vacation, holiday around the corner, unexpected pregnancy. what could go wrong?
LEWIS HAMILTON
compromised (★)
sneaking around mercedes team settings hasn't always been easy, especially when you're caught in a compromising position.
massages (★)
lewis is sore after a long day of testing, and you've got just the remedy.
PIERRE GASLY
sore loser
you've just lost the champions league, and your favorite boy is a call away.
comfort
pierre helps with your chronic illness, assuring that you haven't ruined vacation.
LANCE STROLL
self-control (★)
lance is injured but has little self control when it comes to you.
après ski (★) [written and social au]
lance has some ideas for how your trip's après ski should look. too bad his future brother-in-law has different ideas.
MICK SCHUMACHER
dim lights, thick smoke (★)
mick heads to the bar with his sister's best friend. tomfoolery ensures involving a certain cowboy fashion statement.
FELIPE DRUGOVICH
a helping hand (★)
a certain conversation with your best friend leads to him teaching you a few things
MAX FEWTRELL
secret's out
you don't realize max is on stream so you let you some words fly.
3 AM (★)
drunken nights in Ibiza followed by 3 a.m. texts. what could happen?
F1 DRIVERS
formula one drivers as romance tropes pt. 1
formula one drivers as romance tropes pt. 2
other fics
CHRISTIAN PULISIC
home for the holidays
christian is a little homesick for the holidays. you have a plan for that.
BRADLEY "ROOSTER" BRADSHAW
can't take my eyes off you
a long history with rooster comes to a head when you're brought back to top gun.
take my breath away (★)
rooster will do anything to make sure you first date happens, no matter the circumstances. [part 2 to can’t take my breath away]
tag list
if you want added to my tag list, shoot me a message! just let me know who exactly you want to be added on to :)
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For disability pride month, I want to normalize the "gross" parts of disability. I'm going to talk about my personal experiences, but I want to be clear this applies to everyone with experiences considered "gross" by society and I strongly encourage people to add onto this post with their experiences.
I've had to wear adult diapers for the days where I'm in too much pain AND for when my executive dysfunction is too high to get up and use the bathroom, and have wet and messed on furniture for both reasons when I haven't been able to afford diapers. (And if you act like either pain or executive dysfunction can't get that bad or it's just laziness, you're an ableist and get off my post)
I have had recurrent skin abscesses that have increased in frequency that are itchy and painful (likely MRSA) that I have lanced at home with a sterilized safety pin and had to squeeze blood and pus out of them until they're able to heal, just to avoid yet another ER trip.
I cut my hair short after I was struggling to take care of it so much that the back had just formed one giant matt, to the point where the guy couldn't make the undercut completely even because of how my hair had been lying on my head.
When I'm at home, I often smell like BO, because I have not yet found a deodorant I don't have an allergic skin reaction to. I suffer through it when I go out but even then any deodorant other than Arm and Hammer does very little for my BO (it's the baking soda that works) but I am so highly allergic to that brand because of the corn starch that I can't even tickle my partner's armpits when she's been wearing it.
I stopped brushing my teeth because of severe suicidal depression years ago, and even despite recovering from the depression, the memory issues from ADHD/DID/PTSD are so bad I haven't been able to get back into the habit since. I have plaque buildup and gum inflammation and often random tooth/gum/mouth pains that can last for hours or even days before mysteriously disappearing.
This is such a small one but: when I'm in private, I pick my nose because having boogers is a huge sensory issue for me and the rolled tissues always just push things further in for me. I also bite my nails for similar sensory reasons. I struggle with moderate skin picking as well.
So for everyone that struggles with: maintaining health or hygiene due to disability, behaviors that others consider gross due to disability, skin issues due to disability/chronic illness, stomach issues due to disability, incontinence or inability to use a toilet due to disability, scars or wounds that people call gross due to disability, and anything else I may not have included in this category?
You're not gross or disgusting. You're a person with a disability who has a body made of flesh and blood, and sometimes bodies cause you to have to deal with fluids and/or solids in inconvenient ways that not everybody has to deal with.
I'd also like to add that even if you do consider your personal bodily functions of these types gross, my point is that they don't make YOU gross as a person, and that there is no moral weight to struggling with this stuff because of your disability. You're not a bad person or some awful burden on your loved ones. You're just a person with a disabled body.
I don't think gross=bad, but I've also found it helpful to stop calling my issues gross, so I want to say both.
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Physical Disability/ Chronic Illness Book Masterlist
Quick Key:
🌻= found on Readanybook for free
🍄= I’ve read and recommend
🥀= on my tbr list
🌈= Send me an ask or direct message with this emoji and the book you want and I can likely find it in digital format for free. Be aware it is less secure than the Readanybook site. Please clarify if you’re using a phone or a laptop/computer. (Not including graphic novels)
Fantasy:
Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami (Hemophilia) (Loss of certain mental faculties due to injury) 🌻
One for All by Lillie Lainoff (POTS) 🍄
Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo (Reading disability) (Character that uses a cane) 🍄🌻
Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo (Reading disability) (Character that uses a cane) 🍄🌻
The Moth Girl by Heather Kamins (Fantasy chronic illness) 🥀
A Curse So Dark and Lonely by Brigid Kemmerer (Cerebral Palsy)
Graphic Novels:
Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker (hard of hearing mc) 🥀
The Degenerates by J. Albert Mann (Clubfoot)(Down Syndrome) 🥀
Mis(h)adra by Iasmin Omar Ata (Epilepsy) 🥀
Historical Fiction:
The War That Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley (Clubfoot) 🌻🥀
The Reckless Kind by Carly Heath (deafness)
Literary Fiction:
Unbroken: 13 stories starring disabled teens written by an assortment of disabled creators edited by Marieke Nijkamp (Wheelchair User)(Unspecified Mental Illness) (Blind MC) (Anxiety) (Chronic Pain) (Schizophrenia) (MC with a Cane) (Bipolar II) (IBS) (Cerebral Palsy) (Autistic MC) 🍄
Turning by Joy L. Smith (Wheel Chair user) (Spinal injury) (Stutter) (Brain Injury) 🥀
Electricity by Ray Robinson (Epilepsy)
Horror:
The Call by Peadar O'guilin (disability as a result of complications from having polio as a child) 🥀
Mystery:
Silent Fear by Lance Morcan (Deaf MC’s) 🥀
Russian Dolls by Cristelle Comby (Blind MC)
The Sacred Lies of Minnow Bly (amputee)🌻🥀
Poetry:
A Time to Dance by Padma Venkatraman (below the knee amputation as a result of a car accident) 🍄🌻
Red, White, and Whole by Rajani LaRocca (Mother with Leukemia)
Romance:
The War Within (character in wheelchair) 🍄🌻
Wild and Crooked by Leah Thomas (cerebral palsy)
Long Macchiatos and Monsters by Alison Evans (MC with prosthetic limb)
Get a Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert (Chronic Pain)
Science Fiction:
Ascension by Jacqueline Koyanagi (character with chronic immune deficiency) (character with prosthetics)
Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao (uses a cane and a wheelchair due to foot binding) 🍄
Otherbound by Corinne Duyvis (epilepsy? Kinda) (Amputee MC) 🌻🥀
#booklr#books#bookworm#book recommendations#fantasy#fiction#horror#science fiction#mystery#graphic novel#historical fiction#dark academia#physical disability#disability#chronic illness#pots#deaf character#blind character#amputee#cerebral palsy#bookaddict#lgbt#lgbtq#lesbian#wlw love#transgender#gay
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Domestic December Day 2 - Helping Each Other With Chores
Zephyr is doing the dishes but their joints are acting up so Ifrit helps them out. Then Mist joins them for cuddles.
Notes: Chronically ill Zeph. Also they/them Zeph. Yay, finally writing for earlier era ghouls! Prompt list by comp-lady. See prompt list here
Zephyr/Ifrit/Mist cuddles below the cut or on A03
Ifrit pokes his head into the kitchen. “Hey Zeph! Have you seen…bad pain day?”
Ifrit had been about to ask about Mist’s whereabouts but the grimace on the air ghoul’s face was more than enough to put that goal aside.
“Yeah.” They admit with a shrug, rubbing their lower back. “The cold weather isn’t doing me any favors. Just need to finish doing the dishes then I’ll go take a hot soak or something.”
“Want some help?”
Zephyr looks like they want to say no. That they’ve got it, but a sharp lance of pain through their hip betrays them. They duck their head shyly. “Only if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all Zeph.” Ifrit walks over and plants a gentle kiss between Zephyr’s horns before dunking his hands in the soapy dishwater. “I'll wash, you dry?”
“Sure.”
Ifrit gets to work washing the remaining dishes while Zephyr dries them, using their air magic in lieu of a towel. Together they put the dishes back in the cabinets. Once they're done, Ifrit shakes his hands dry and nuzzles the air ghoul.
“Still thinking about a soak?”
“Maybe. Water probably won’t stay warm long though.”
“Want to cuddle then? I can massage your joints and see if that helps a bit.”
Zephyr shakes their head. “I don’t want to bother you.”
Ifrit gently takes Zephyr’s face in his hands. “Zeph dear, you’re not a bother. Don’t ever think that. I’m offering because I care about you and want to help if possible. Besides, I was literally just looking for Mist because I know the cold is rough on her too. I was going to see if she wanted to cuddle.”
“Okay.” Zephyr relents. “Thanks Iffy.” They smile and bump their horns with Ifrit’s.
“Of course love. Let's go find Mist and get all comfy in bed.”
They do just that. They find Mist in her room, occupied with a book and wrapped in at least three blankets.
“Where have you been Iff?” She pouts. “I’m freezing my ass off in here.”
“Sorry, sorry.” He grins sheepishly. “Let's get you warmed up.”
The three of them settle in Ifrit's room after making a brief detour to Zephyr’s room so they can grab their favorite blankets. Mist just hauls her blankets with them. Ifrit sets a roaring fire in the hearth, and the room warms up nicely. The pile on the bed, wrapped in blankets and pillows. Ifrit is in the middle with Mist and Zephyr on either side hugging him for his warmth. He cranks up his internal temperature and the other two sigh happily.
“Want me to help massage those aches?” Ifrit asks.
Zephyr nods. “Please.”
Ifrit rolls over to face the air ghoul while Mist presses up against his back. Zephyr presses their face to Ifrit’s chest as he starts to rub their sore shoulders and back with warm hands.
Ifrit can feel them grit their teeth as he rubs. Zephyr can’t hold back a pained hiss as Ifrit’s hands press into a sore spot. Ifrit pulls back. “Doing okay? Too much pressure?”
“I’m fine.” They sigh. “It’s good, it just hurts.”
“I’m sorry love. You want me to keep going?”
“Uh huh. I’m okay.”
“Alright. Just let me know if you need me to stop.”
Zephyr nods and Ifrit’s hands return to their swollen muscles.
Slowly but surely, the air ghoul’s tension seems to ease. Ifrit whispers comforts and Mist throws an arm across the fire ghoul to scratch at Zephyr’s scalp. They begin to purr, soothed by their touches, hot and cold.
When Zephyr has practically melted in his hands, Ifrit eases off and just gently traces his fingers over the air ghoul’s back.
“Feeling better?”
“Lots. Thanks.” They mumble sleepily.
“Looks like it's nap time then.” Mist is yawning and Ifrit is struggling to keep his eyes open. “Let's get you some water and then we can sleep. Sound good?”
“Mmm huh.”
Ifrit helps Zephyr take a few sips from the water bottle on his nightstand and then settles back so Zephyr can rest their head on his chest. Mist rolls over and does the same. Ifrit wraps either arm around them and they all drift off to sleep.
#the band ghost#ghost fanfiction#nameless ghouls#ifrit ghoul#zephyr ghoul#mist ghoulette#ifrit/zephyr/mist#domestic december 2023#lys writes
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The actor Lance Reddick, who has died suddenly aged 60, played figures of authority with such panache that no matter how many times he was handed such roles, he never seemed typecast. He is best known on film for his part as Charon, the all-seeing fixer in the John Wick movie franchise, but his image was forged playing two ambitious high-level cops on television, Cedric Daniels in The Wire (2002-08) and Irvin Irving in Bosch (2014-21).
In each case he was contrasted with a main character: his anguish at the plight of Baltimore as portrayed in The Wire was expressed with internal restraint, opposed to the knee-jerk reactions of Dominic West’s chronic screw-up, McNulty. In Bosch, he was the politician tormented by Titus Welliver’s relentlessly uncompromising Harry Bosch.
Bosch author Michael Connelly said Reddick “took a character who was paper-thin in the books and made Irvin Irving”. He used his tall, angular frame to express authority; moving his body precisely, deliberately stiff and controlled, his face echoing that pose, covering up the machinations inside his head. Audiences watched as he took in, contemplated, and finally reacted, in a voice pitched with the deep tone of authority. His work in Bosch’s second season, where the death of his undercover cop son opens huge cracks in his closely controlled persona and makes him the centre of the show, is a lesson in transcending ensemble play.
Reddick’s highlights in variations of authority-figure themes came in the TV series Fringe (2008-13), running a unit of Homeland Security; Corporate (2018-20), as a CEO; and Intelligence (2014), where he was head of the CIA. On film he was head of the secret service in Angel Has Fallen (2019), and he played Albert Wesker, boss of the Raccoon Police special tactics unit, in the Netflix TV adaptation of the zombie video game Resident Evil (2022).
He was so good that the star of Wick, Keanu Reeves, given a day off from shooting for his birthday, told his girlfriend he wanted to visit the set, just to watch Reddick in action. Reeves then handed him a note thanking him for “what he brought to the character of Charon”.
Bosch also afforded Reddick the chance to play the piano, thoughtfully improvising at home as if to sort out his thoughts; this might be seen to reflect his own hard path to acting success. Reddick was born in Baltimore to Solomon, a lawyer, and Dorothy (nee Gee), a teacher. His musical talent was apparent at Friends School of Baltimore, and he went on to study at the city’s Peabody Institute, a secondary school specialising in the performing arts. He took a degree in composition at the University of Rochester’s Eastman School of Music and moved to Boston, intending, in his words, to become a rock star.
But his style of music, influenced by Miles Davis and Sting, never fitted a rock star template, and having married his college sweetheart, Suzanne Louis, in 1986, and had two children, he found himself working odd jobs, including as a singing waiter on a riverboat. Crucially, on a night shift at a newspaper delivery depot, he injured his back shifting bundles of papers. Forced to lie in bed, he contemplated how he could support his family, and decided to turn to acting, where he noticed there were more auditions available.
He wound up gaining a master of fine arts degree at Yale Drama School in 1994, and two years later landed his first television role, on New York Undercover; he debuted on-screen in 1998’s ill-judged modern-set Great Expectations.
In 2000 he was cast in David Simon’s The Corner, which led to his part on The Wire, while he also attracted attention with a memorable role as an undercover police officer gone bad in the prison drama Oz (2000-01). Recurring parts in CSI:Miami (2005-06) and Lost (2008-09) followed, and he played James Baldwin in the 2004 movie Brother to Brother. He was the voice of the Falcon in the animated Avengers (2012), and of the villain Ras Al Ghul in Beware the Batman (2013), as well as voicing Commander Zavala in the Destiny video game series, and Sylens in Horizon Zero Dawn (2017) and Horizon Forbidden West (2022).
Along the way he finally got to be a rock star, playing a cop in the music video of Jay-Z and Beyoncé’s ’03 Bonnie & Clyde. In 2007 he released an album of his own music, Contemplations and Remembrances.
John Wick 4 has just been released, and he also leaves behind a store of work that has yet to be seen. Reddick will appear in a remake of White Men Can’t Jump; as Charon in a Wick spin-off, Ballerina; in the Shirley Chisholm biopic, Shirley, and as Capt Blakely in The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial. He also voiced the ultimate authority figure, Zeus, in Percy Jackson and the Olympians for Disney+.
Reddick is survived by his second wife, Stephanie (nee Day), whom he married in 2011, and the two children, Yvonne and Christopher, from his first marriage, which ended in divorce.
🔔 Lance Solomon Reddick, actor, born 7 June 1962; died 17 March 2023
Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com
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Altho the dolls' struggles are mostly specific to being a doll (which is a good thing), they do translate to real life struggles of course, like any good story:
Lance feels out of place, like everyone else has so much more to offer than he does - more talent and more social ability - a lack of self esteem in general
Yeonho, as a victim of abuse, suffers from a fear of not being good enough, of being abused again if he isn't perfect
Yuri struggles to identify emotions - both his own and other people's - and social rules/cues. He is surrounded by fake friends, people who love him but don't like him, who love him only superficially. He learns in his route about sincerity and empathy
Tei clearly has ocd, in which his worries for the owner lead him to take extreme measures, from simply observing everyone who looks at her, to drugging her so that he can watch her sleep without her being startled by it
Red, I think, struggles with a couple of different things.
He believes that he will only be good enough if he achieves something practically impossible, leading to drastically high expectations for himself. Through protecting Eri as he is, he realises that he's already good enough.
Something I was thinking about recently is an experience I especially can relate to: it's about taking care of someone you love. I think when the other dolls saw Eri's memory issues, they were probably more stressed about how to fix it, and because they didn't know how, they didn't know how to help her. That's what Red had been focused on too: he believed that the special powers would be able to fix everything.
It was when Red came to terms with the fact that he wasn't able to fix Eri's problem, that he realised: all he needed to do was be by her side and support her
I relate to this so much, being a therapist friend. The one everyone turns to. The one everyone says their goodbyes to. The one who everyone will talk about each other to. I've been there
In this position, you may feel the desire to fix people's problems for them, but especially when it comes to things like mental or physical illness, suicidal ideation, or permanent issues like a chronic illness, you just can't do anything about it, no matter how much you want to. And that is fine.
The most important thing, when supporting someone, is not to fix their issue, but to value them and their own feelings first
For example, a friend of mine experiences delusions/paranoias. A lot of people might respond to this by denying the belief, reality checking. But telling them that they are wrong does not make the paranoia go away.
The best way to respond to that is to ask "How does that make you feel? What would you like me to do to help you feel safer?"
A specific example of this is when we were cleaning out my friend's room and I was doing multiple journeys, taking rubbish out to the bin. He told me he was worried, that I might be in danger while I was out of his sight. Instead of denying it, insisting that I was fine, I suggested that he come with me, or could watch me on the Ring Doorbell app
It's not usually the problem that needs fixing, but the person who needs supporting
Red realises this quicker than the other dolls, dedicating himself to patiently being by Eri's side as she suffered. In doing so, he learns that this is all he needs to do, in general. Nothing more. And certainly nothing impossible. Just him, as he is, supporting her, as she is
#my post#cheritz#nameless the one thing you must recall#ntotymr#nameless meta#cheritz meta#fandom meta
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look, i KNOW we have like one quick quest cutscene and maybe 7 lines of dialogue to make up jadus personality, but personally, PERSONALLY. i think hes a little silly. PERSONALLY i think out of all the adventurers, jadus the most chronically online. PERSONALLY, i think jadu is immature and has a really goofy sense of humor. i think hes a lil bit of a goofball. a silly man. a guy. maybe a boy being a boy. maybe the kind of person to say that hes a bit silly.
anyways theyre all autistic anc some form of lgbt. i wish i could argue this point but my only evidencd is that i feel it in my bones that lance doesnt get social cues, has a special interest in monster studying, echolalia, and very specific sensory issues against spaghetti. he actually doesnt like horror movies bcz he doesnt see the point in making something that doesnt live up to its name, forgetting that they can still be entertaining. all that flirty dialogue? its not flirtatious: its genuine. lance isnt inviting you to his outpost bcz he wants you in his bed. hes inviting you over because he thinks the land is so cool and will info dump to anyone about it.
jadus autistic bcz i say so.
sams either autistic, adhd, or both. ill accept all answers for that.
i can make uo wtv i want abt bo hes my oc and i say hes autistic.
i also just rly love these headcanons.
HERES SOME IMAGES TO GO WITH IT!!
that girl is brianna btw, i felt the need to mention that.
if anyone hasnt noticed my humor is tiktok humor and i have no clue how to conform to tumblr bcz this is my first time ACTUALLY using it LFMAOSOAA
also i rly like jadu hes such a cool character (by hes a rly cool character i mean i made up most of his character until flashshifter releases the full castle village update but even then id still love jadu tbh)
#lance sdve#lance stardew valley expanded#lance stardew#lance#lance my beloved#sdv mods#sdve#art#stardew valley#stardew expanded#sdv sam#sam stardew valley#jadu sdve#jadu stardew valley expanded#sdv farmer#autism#i will die on a hill that lance is enby#theres no backuo for that#it was a joke headcanon me n my friend made#it just makes sense#idk if these are controversial hcs but they make sense to me#jadu is aroace#if he doesnt turn out to be i wont be mad#i want to platonically marry jadu actually#i want to marry camilla too#not isaac#i dont like isaac
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honestly i hope bustamante loses all her sponsorship and is booted from the sport so people in this fucking fandom stop talking about what she did bc y'all cannot be trusted handling caring about ableism and i'm so angry i'm dissociating like i feel like i'm being sucked backward out of my body bc my nervous system cannot handle the strength of my anger and is noping on out
it's either more important that wittle wancey got his feelings hurt, or i shouldn't care that she's ableist bc she has a vagina and is a person of color and ableism is at the bottom of your list of -isms that matter
HOW does the world continuously forget what ableism actually looks like, how do you INSIST on forgetting about sanitariums, CENTURIES of disabled and chronically ill and autistic and neurodivergent people being locked in stone prisons to wither and die of starvation and neglect in puddles of their own piss and shit and vomit covered in excruciating bed sores and bug bites, abandoned to their fate by families who only saw them as an inconvenience, beaten and raped by trained medical professionals who saw them as less than human, all of society measuring our worth as human beings based on our inability to be productive and reducing their perception of us to parasites leeching off the world we live in when we don't meet their standard
disabled people living on the fucking street because we can't work, already in more pain than the average person can conceive of in a comfortable life, sleeping on the fucking pavement in the rain and snow and wind, begging for scraps and getting sneered at by people who would rather die than have to live one day with our norm
the first group the nazis came for were the disabled. before they ever built concentration camps, before they ever came for anyone else, they ran propaganda about how disabled people were a stain on society leeching resources from more deserving (abled) people. they sent out flyers to families with disabled children saying 'hey send them to these facilities, we'll care for them!" and then murdered them by overdose or starvation or both
we're the group that are always forgotten, because we're an inconvenient reminder that you could be one of us someday, without warning, without cause, and it's easier to act like our sickness is some kind of moral failing or lack of effort on our part than acknowledging that it can happen to anyone, including you, and it's been costing us our lives and our dignity for centuries
but she has a brother with autism that she paraded around as a fucking token and she's a woman of color, so what she did doesn't really matter and anyone who's upset by it is coming down too hard on her and really let's just focus on how this effects lance fucking stroll fuck you
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THEY KEEP KILLING OFF THEIR CHARACTERS. LIKE WHY DO THAT IF YOURE GONNA BRING EM BACK WITH YOUR UNEXPLAINED SPACE MAGIC. like fuck offff . you wanna know how they "cure" their chronically ill character? they get him (killed in s2) and his clone (which somehow. magically. didnt carry the illness or suffer from it. curious) and fuse em together. and now hes back from the dead but also he magically doesnt have his illness anymore. why go through all that trouble if you cld have just kept him alive. like he was LITERALLY absent for like 4 episodes (i counted) and thats IT there was no reason to kill shiro off and there was no reason to kill lance either if you're gonna bring him back a few MINUTES after. i hate this stupid fucking show
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VLD Retrospective: My POV as a Queer Biracial Asian Aspie
I don't generally enjoy listing my demographics in public spaces but for a Voltron Retrospective, I find it Quite Necessary to better convey how much VLD meant to me personally. This is one fan reconciling with a work I enjoyed for years, remain saddened for, and felt betrayed by. lf I'm good for anything, it's my being a Living Statistical Outlier.
VLD gave me explicit representation within its main cast: it gave me Shiro, who I clocked as chronically ill well before it was confirmed (Like Knows Like) & struggled with mental illness too (I'm not a war vet but Shiro's implicit Medical Trauma was Also There). Shiro is also, very obviously, an Asian &, as later revealed, a Queer Asian. There are few Queer Asians in western media who are Actual Characters: Shiro was (& remains) fun to have on board. It was, primarily, his struggles with his physical & mental health that most resonated with me.
Pidge is someone a lot of fans identified with, being a quirky genderbender maligned for her relative youth: I'm an autistic female who is gender "meh" so Pidge was "Representation" but she wasn't New nor Almost Unprecedented like Shiro or, as I'll elaborate further on, Keith. Every AFAB, every youth has felt undermined by their assumed gender & their youth: this is Not New. Pidge is fun but she wasn't Groundbreaking, not to me.
Keith and, to a lesser degree (as in assocoation with him), the "Half-Galra" Misfits were who I most identified with. Even before Keith was having Existential Crises over being Half-Galra, Keith read as someone biracial: his name, "Keith Kogane", makes him a white-passing Asian . I think current consensus is that Keith's Dad was "Mixed Asian*" but Keith's "orphan" (& secret alien) status prevented him from engaging with his heritage.
I am Not Galran (so far as I know) but I am a white-passing Asian & someone of "Two Worlds" (half white, half east asian). Star Trek's Spock established how most subsequent works of the sci-fi genre depicts half-human aliens: all the vibes of being Biracial, existential crises about Passing & feeling Disconnected ("rejected") by either/both halves of one's identity. Keith checks those boxes and Lotor's Halfsie Squad are similarly Coded (to lesser degrees).
Aliens, half-human ones especially, are very easily read as Neurodivergent as in "has ADHD &/or ASD": Keith continued this tradition & it further isolated him from his peers, especially because (like many of us on The Spectrum) he grew up "Undiagnosed". Keith knew he was Different but no one had the correct Context for his "Difference": this lead him to feeling Wrong, Rejected and Alien. This is an experience Familiar to anyone belatedly recognised as having ASD and also to Literally Any Queer Person.
To summarize the above: Shiro meant A Lot to me because he struggled with his health in silence (& was Asian); Keith meant a lot because his Human Demographics & Coding match almost entirely with my own. Shiro became "more" Important to me through his being Keith's Most Important Person (KH fans: you see where this is going): I was already Attached to Shiro, Keith made me invested in him.
KH fans knew from my invoking of "Taihetsu no Hito" [JP for "Most Important Person"] that, through being Invested in Keith & thus Shiro, I quickly Recognised that Keith? Desperately in love with Shiro. I did not, however, consider Shiro likely to Act on any Reciprocating of such feelings (which he did show signs of developing, as early on as that Stranded From Everyone Else and "when I die, you be Black Paladin" episode) due to the implied age gap between them. I knew Shiro was Younger Than Assumed (very early 20's at oldest, I figured from Contextual Clues), that Lance & Hunk were about 17 & that Keith was Older than Lance (so, 18). The age gap between Shiro & Keith was never that much of an issue: it was their difference in Rank & the ages they were at their First Meeting that were the "real" obstscles, to my mind. Season 6 or 7 did a Flashback that made Keith 14 when he first met Shiro: that very much explains why Shiro was reluctant to acknowledge attraction to Keith & unlikely to act on it. Keith did, however, read as Crushing On Shiro pretty much from their first encounter (Keith stealing Shiro's car was a very obvious effort to gain Shiro's attention & respect: something Keith was unlikely to recognise as Crush Evidence but Shiro definitely did).
And then Shiro lost 3 years to Time Dilation while Keith gained 2: their Reunion post-Space Whale was very telling. For the first time, Sheith actually seemed genuinely plausible to me. Keith had had a Glow Up that allowed Shiro to stop thinking of Keith as the kid he'd been when they first met & actually admit that his excuses to not act on any attraction had stopped holding weight. I remain completely convinced that "Kuron" had fallen, equally & just as desperately, in love with Keith over the series and that the Aggression Kuron exhibited toward Keith was as much caused by That (Gay Pining he refused to act on, even as Keith ran around in his Infamous Blades Uniform) as it was by Haggar (& Kuron's growing suspicions on his "true" nature).
Then there was the "You're my brother... I love you!" scene. Initially, given The Current Events of the time, I was irritated by the Abrupt Brother-Zoning from the Very Obviously Pining Keith to Shiro.
Then I noticed the order of these sentences: first, "you're my brother" (neither Shiro nor Keith have any siblings: in asia, there's MLM equivalent to "they were Roommates" in "they're sword/sworn brothers") and THEN, more desperately and while at the cusp of death... "I love you".
VERY ON BRAND, KEITH. It's also the "I love you" that gets through Kuron's programming enough for Keith to save them both. From my observations of VLD, the sole remaining obstacles to Sheith sailing were "will Shiro retain Kuron's memories and, if so, will he accept Kuron as being another Him" and "will the writers be able to get the execs to sign off on TWO queer paladins being queer with EACH OTHER"?
and then... the love confession was never addressed & Shiro stopped interacting with any of the Paladins beyond a professional setting.
By then, a lot of the show was looking Off and I actually looked at the online Voltron fandom to see if other people were Connecting Dots: some Meddling had happened, Shiro was being OOC as all heck, Allura and Keith seemed pretty miserable, Romelle was Sus as Heck, why was Allurance happening, where the heck is Lotor (etc)....
I was, like everyone else, greatly upset by Allura's needlessly being Killed Off and by Shiro's Stock Photo husband. I was also Not Impressed by the alleged "happiness" found by any of the Paladins: Shiro retiring his greatest dream, of flying and exploring the galaxy when he had just found out he Wasn't Going To Die from his Chronic Illness? Jim Kirk, another charismatic spaceship captain who loved to explore the universe, had a similar "retirement" ending for its Heroic Captain.
The first Star Trek film, set post-series, conveyed exactly how Shiro's "happy" ending played out for a character Shiro was almost certainly inspred by: Captain James "Jim" Tiberius Kirk.
Captain Kirk's "happy ending" was introduced in TMP as being: a promotion/retirement, marriage, & settling on Earth. Sound familiar, Shiro? TMP then shows how that "happy ending" plays out for someone like Jim (or Shiro): barely a handful of years later, Jim is miserable in his "retirement" (he was Promoted to a desk job); his Very Sudden marriage to a Previously Unknown Character is crumbling (& is even implied as being arranged by Starfleet's Brass to keep their Poster Boy on earth!); he clearly misses his Team (his Found Family) & at his first "valid" opportunity to get his Team together to fly into space again? That's exactly what Jim does.
Star Trek: TMP also, incidentally, features Jim living out some kind of Space Divorce Drama with his Right-Hand Man, the Half-Human Alien Spock. The two had apparently spent all those years apart and Spocks's "logical response" to [everything post-TOS] was... becoming a Vulcan Monk in order to Purge All His Emotions. (Krolia, please tell me that the Galra do not have an Equivalent to Vulcan's kolinahr & that, if it DOES, you Forbade Keith From Doing It).
Jim & Kirk saved each other, often very impossibly, in every other episode of TOS. They were also so widely shipped by fans that the "founding" of modern fandom cukture is often attributed to those first K/S shippers.
The easy Parallels between Spock/Kirk to Keith/Shiro were something that seemed to increase as VLD continued, likely as its creative team started recognising how naturally Keith & Shiro played out that epic space romance. The relationship between the Black Paladins was consistently emphasized within the series (until it abruptly Wasn't) and their bond was considered the strongest shared by any two paladins. A Sheith required very little effort from VLD's creative team and, given the Time Dilation plot point, that effort WAS made: Keith shows up Older & Blade-ier, Shiro Visibly Reacts and seems perfectly set up to Reevaluate his relationship with Keith, both of them visibly Adult and already established as "Equals".
Reading the research done by Team Purple Lion helped me understand the many degrees of unpleasantness caused by the Forced Removal of Lotor from VLD's endgame: the series' overall plot, key themes and multiple character arcs were contingent to the ugly consequences of Voltron's [murdering] him, the emotional effects Lotor had on Allura, the ways Lotor was integral to the show's themes of Redemption & Recovery & Love (of all forms). Just about every main character (and the imexplicable presence of several other characters) had their Arc underminded by Lotor's staying [murdered]: Lotor (obvs), Allura (VLD's Actual Main Character), Lance (who suddenly became Every Creepy "Nice" Guy), Pidge, Axca, Romelle, Merla, Yzor & her girlfriend, Honnerva...
I was invested in the plot, characters and themes of VLD: its ending wasn't just upsetting, it was contradictory to its own story. Though I am not invested in any VLD ships other than Sheith (for the way the characters are individually Important to me, the ways Shiro is important to Keith, the ways their relationship parallels K/S down to the syllables), the series had set certain ships up through its Themes and within its plot: Allura/Lotor, a reclamation of Allura's agency & a thematic resolution to the major conflicts of the series; Shiro/Keith, a love story the series spent 7 seasons telling; the tentative beginnings of Lance/Pidge, a Chekhov's Gun that would round their individual character development through better understanding each other; Hunk & Recognition of his Ingenuity, Bravery, Compassion (which would, incidentally, feature Hunk/Shay and Hunk's central role in the intergalactic Recovery proces). All of these ships serve a Purpose within VLD's plot, aid individual character development, reinforce the series' overarching themes, and have a solid basis within the text of VLD (as well as outside of it, in interviews and statements from the creative team).
I was able to "recover" from the betrayal of how VLD ended, largely through the detective work of fans like Team Purple Lion and reading many "fix-fic" wherein Allura Lives and Shiro is not OOC as all heck. VLD was one of many series, at the time, whose Betrayal of its themes & characters made Waves all over Fandom. It was, however, one of the Betrayals that hurt me more "personally". It was also a fantastic example of Creatives having horrid working conditions, Corporate Interests actively Hurting their consumers, of Fans being forced to Play Detective due to the modern Media Landscape: the culture of creatives being under strict NDAs, of their being without Unions, of how abruptly Projects can be undermined by the Whims of singular entities (creating additional work on an already overworked labour force, often in ways that betray their own work).
So, uh, surprise: this was a Retrospective inspired by the current Writers Strike & growing awareness (that we have known & ignored for years) of how unethical the working standards of animators are. There are Actual Americans and Actual Artists who can speak on these issues more specifically, as well as the best ways to help the affected: this was a more individual Take, from One Fan, and the ways that media has affected That Fan emotionally (though, being an Aspie, i'm pretty distanced from articulating any Specifics beyond "upset" because "this is narratively inconsistent"). The purpose of writing this was personal catharsis, a means of discovering how I feel about VLD all these years later, and perhaps as an act of microcosm within a greater fandom macrosm RE: engagement with media & correctly identifying how the faults of its business structure sabotage excellent works of fiction from staying "excellent" or becoming "magnificent".
*"Korean-Japanese" seems to ne the current consensus but as Sourced outside the text of the series. It is not his "exact amounts of Asian" that Keith is "relevant" to me but his being both Mixed & disconnected from his asian Heritage.
#hollow whispers#vld meta#sheith meta#asian representation#queer asian representation#aspie things#half-human aliens#spirk meta#vld retrospective#go check out the purple lion project#i have not the spoons to do hyperlinks today#fandom things
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Glu-tened to My Heart
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/QmtlUHb
by Angelicat2
Keith's been feeling ill for a while now. He doesn't know why but a visit to the doctor helps explain some things. And he has his friends' support, including Shiro.
Words: 4957, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 2 of Shiro Saves Keith Week 2022
Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: Gen, M/M
Characters: Keith (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Ulaz (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron), Pidge (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Allura (Voltron), Matt Holt, Ezor (Voltron)
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Allura & Hunk & Keith & Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro, Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Matt Holt & Keith, Matt Holt & Shiro, Keith & Ulaz (Voltron), Shiro & Ulaz (Voltron)
Additional Tags: Shiro Saves Keith (Voltron), Chronic Illness, Shiro (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Supportive Shiro (Voltron), Food Issues, Sick Keith (Voltron), Nosebleed, Hunk (Voltron) is a Ray of Sunshine, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Team as Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied Sexual Content, Medical Conditions
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/QmtlUHb
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