Finished Turnabout Serenade with my sisters today and I had to quickly draw this concept (Also an excuse to draw Apollo AND my girl Ema.. love her.) Also I had to draw them mugshots for this THE KISSY FACE IS NOT SERIOUS just like he's not serious.. he'd so pull the Instagram influencer lips..

Slight spoilers below the cut, just in case!

Can you IMAGINE how freaking funny it'd be if you were Daryan, listening in over the headset, only to hear two people talking about "wanted? Nobody wants him!" about your band mate? Ngl if it was me, I'd end up laughing LMAO which would be bad for him considering.. you know. I really enjoy the worsties dynamic Ema and Klavier have because.. it's just hilarious, honestly. I love how she talks trash about him every waking moment, she is waiting for the SECOND she passes her exam and her 2 weeks notice is ON his desk

Joke made by my sister here @abandonedart

Batarou Headcanon - Yakuza AU

Hello guys, it's me again bringing more Batarou headcanon! 👀✨

While I'm still trying to finish my writing on webcomic Batarou headcanon/ficlet/oneshot (??), also battling with my stressed out condition, I will offering this silly AU headcanon instead in the meantime. Warning: implication of nsfw-ish thing towards the end, but nothing explicit, also many inaccurate depiction of the topic matters I'm so sorry.

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Badd is the firstborn of the strongest Yakuza clan, and also the Yakuza family's successor after both of his parents were assassinated by enemy clan.

The assassination happened when Badd was only a little kid while Zenko still a baby. Badd and Zenko survived from the tragedy after being saved by Bang, the leader and owner of martial art dojo, who worked as Badd's family bodyguard. They were both raised by Bang until Badd is reaching his adulthood, ready to take over his family's legacy.

Badd felt so sad after the death of his parents, sometimes mourning for them every night after Zenko was asleep. He swore to himself that he wont let the tragedy happening again, not when he still has the only precious person left from his family: Zenko. Once Badd reaching coming of age and finishing his school, he would be the Boss of his family clan.

Badd thought he wont get a friend because of his status and his intimidating look, until Bang bringing his adopted son into the dojo and introducing him to Badd. His name is Garou.

Garou, Bang's adopted son, was taught to be the next family bodyguard by Bang. So he can be the greatest martial artist to protect Badd for the rest of their life.

At first Garou was reluctant to take his future responsibility. But after seeing Badd, the most beautiful yet fierce person he ever witnessed, Garou gladly accept it. Especially after Badd bravely saving him from the bullies at school, showing how determinated he was to protect anyone he considered as his "family". Thus they started their relationship as childhood bestfriend, either in school or their home at Bang's dojo.

During that time, Garou encouraged himself to training as the best as he can in martial art. There's no way a bodyguard is weaker than the one they supposed to protect. He didn't want someone hurting Badd in the future, like what happened to his entire family. Badd is his bestfriend, his future boss, and also his first love.

Garou would be more than happy to be on Badd's side forever, protecting Badd from anyone who has ill intention towards him. It doesn't matter if Badd returned his feelings or not, because the most important thing is Badd's own happiness.

On the other hand, Badd was astonished by Garou's development and determination to become the greatest martial artist. It's like the "Fighting Spirit" is not only being inherited by his family's lineage, but also could be obtained by anyone who has strong determination. Someone who can be Badd's equal, not a subordinate no matter what people say. That's why Badd likes Garou, maybe more than just a friend along the way.

Badd also started to strengthen himself by learning how to self-defence, and to strike offensive attacks if it was needed. He didn't take martial art lesson like Garou did from Bang, instead Badd creating his own combat style using his family heirloom: a metal bat. Besides, it matched with Badd's current image as delinquent punk kid. In which could be frightening enough once he becomes full-fledged Yakuza Boss.

At school, because Garou and Badd didn't have the same class as Badd was one year younger than Garou, they would hangout on school breaktime and after school. Despite being a Yakuza's son and looking like tough kid, it doesn't mean that Badd is a bully. In fact, he was the one who becomes school protector along with Garou. There's bully gang trying to pick on poor classmates? These delinquent duo would showed up and make sure they wont get 2nd chance to do that again at all (everyone didn't know what exactly Garou and Badd have done but clearly they put the fear of god into those bullies effectively).

After school, they were either hangout on local diner/family restaurant/cafe/ice cream parlor/game arcade depends of their moods, so they could still living their live as normal teenagers for awhile. Or immediately went home at Bang's dojo to do training routines. Sometimes Badd and Garou training separately, sometimes they would sparring with eachother. Most favorite time was everytime they're trying on new techniques onto eachother in sparring session at training field, while Bang supervising them the whole time from dojo's main building entrance.

When Garou and Badd weren't in training hours, they spend time to do their own hobby as a form of relaxation. Garou likes to study in Bang's library or writing poems, whereas Badd have a fondness on cooking or baking to try out his mother's recipes, Zenko often joined him, too. Sometimes whenever Badd has difficulty on studying for exams, he always comes to Garou for help, so he ended up as Badd's tutor. In exchange, Garou asking Badd to cook for him since his cooking is delicious, thus Badd making special lunchbox for Garou as the payment.

Imagine after both of them graduated from highschool, Bang with the entire Badd's family alliance clans holding an inauguration ceremony for Badd. Badd was officially becomes the Yakuza boss and the leader of his family clan, taking his family legacy as the survivor. Then Garou pledged his loyalty for Badd as his bodyguard during the ceremony, vowed to be always be on Badd's side for the rest of his life and would never betrayed him at all cost.

Imagine Garou kneeled before Badd when he pledged his loyalty. And as soon as Garou finished his vow, he took Badd's hand and kissed his knuckle softly. Then looking at Badd with so much adoration yet there's hidden fire in those golden eyes, his trademark smug grin slowly showing on his handsome face. If Badd didn't fully realized he was in the middle of inauguration ceremony, he would thinks Garou was proposing him! Not a bad thought, actually. Maybe someday Garou would do that, if it was allowed. Nothing can stop Badd from hoping.

Imagine how badass these two when they're on-duty, and their compatible dynamic is legendary among the clans. Everyone who is Badd's family subordinate really admired and respected them wholeheartedly. Not only both are very strong equally, they're also charismatic in their own way.

Badd is a good and kindhearted leader despite looking rough on the outside, but never hesitated to show the frightening side if someone trying to mess with his beloved family. A feared leader for the enemies, but a loving leader for the family. Also very protective for Zenko and Garou. Has the alias as "Metal Bat" regarding his choice of weapon during the battle. His "Fighting Spirit" would be activated as the ultimate power only when it was in a very necessary time, but enough to put a fear onto his enemies. Not very good at delivering speech at meeting but always has the best motivational words. Secretly in love with his own bestfriend a.k.a. his bodyguard. Badd has 2 kind of tattoos: Dragon tattoo on his whole left arm and Phoenix tattoo on his back.

Garou is a total monster when in the middle of combat, especially when it comes to protect Badd, Zenko, and their entire family. Have excellent sense to detect any assassin who tried to target Badd and would eliminated them in a matter of second. Basically the Best Guardian ever. That's why their enemies would call him as "Human Monster" based on his strength and abilities to fight. But even a "monster" still has the pure and softest heart for Badd, and only Badd. Have a soft spot for any underdog and bullied kids. Garou was kinda spokeperson for Badd since he's better at delivering speech than Badd. Garou has 2 kind of tattoos: Oni/Demon tattoo on his left torso and Wolf tattoo on his back.

Zenko is the "Princess" among the family clans, but that doesn't mean she couldn't participate on being badass. She was very intelligent and the most sophisticated person among the three. Also learning battōjutsu martial art for self-defense, it's always fascinating seeing Zenko training using real sword so elegantly. Really adores her big brothers, yet never hesitated to slap some sense onto them when they're being such dumbasses. Very proud of what Badd has becomes. In the future after reaching adulthood, Zenko has 2 kind of tattoos: Cherry-blossom tattoos on her whole right arm and Samurai tattoo on her back.

Both of Garou and Badd also taking Tareo as a part of their family, after saving Tareo's family from being the enemy's hostage in a war between clans. Thus, Tareo becomes Zenko's BFF and possibly also a great trusted advisor for Badd's family in the future. Admired Garou very much. Garou inherited most of his knowledges and nerdy side to Tareo, hoping they would be useful someday. In the future after reaching adulthood, Tareo has 2 kind of tattoos: Koi tattoo on his whole right arm and Lotus tattoo on his left arm.

Imagine Garou and Badd had been mutual pining the whole time, but managed to keep it down so their family and subordinates wont noticed. Once Garou successfully confessed his romantic feeling for Badd (very awkward but sweet nonetheless), in which Badd accepted immediately, they're having a secret relationship behind the family's back. Because they didn't want to cause a ruckus between the clan family just because the Boss is currently doing lots of scandalous things together with his own bodyguard for every single day. Also the fact that Badd the Boss is the bottom most of the time, since he prefers to have Garou being an aggressive top (but there's no way Badd would never be submissive, as he always serve the good challenges for Garou to prove who's Boss).

Eventhough the family hadn't know yet about their "scandalous things", they could see how affectionate Badd towards Garou and vice versa. It's almost like those two men are lovers instead of only boss-bodyguard or bestfriends.

The way Garou being so protective for Badd, the way Badd patching up Garou's battle wounds, the way they're always looked so harmonious on fighting side-by-side in combat, the way they're gazing at eachother whenever they think noone noticed, the way Garou always kissing Badd's knuckles everytime they were going to clans war, also the way Badd kissing Garou's forehead as a blessing, the way they looked so happy when spending off-duty freetime together doing whatever they like at the moment, etc.

All of those proving that whatever relationship Garou and Badd have together is already beyond what the family members could imagine.

One time the family finally found out their nature of relationship was when Badd gotten hurt seriously after failed attempt of assassination, done by the order from another leader of clan who eventually becomes a traitor in the alliance. Garou was a second too late on completely protecting Badd because he didn't expect that there was a traitor among the family alliance. Knowing Badd was hurt sent Garou in berserk mode as he annihilated all the rest of traitor's assassins in the building, while Badd's family taking care of their unconscious Boss.

The whole betrayal angered the entire alliance members, especially Badd's core family. Garou's wrath was totally understandable because he was the closest person for Badd, seeing the devastation he caused upon the traitor clan. Zenko was in rage once she knows who was betrayed her big brother, she almost going to execute that person by herself with her own sword. Bang, who had seen this kind of assassination happened twice on Badd's family, and already considered Badd as his own son, in a silent fury immediately arranging what punishments the traitor clan would get.

The traitor clan was punished severely, and its leader was executed on the following day. Badd still resting in his home, in which guarded securely by his subordinates. Zenko was helping the caretakers to heal Badd's wounds, worrying for her big brother's condition. Garou never leaving his bedside, his hands holding Badd's hands as he quietly apologizes profusely for letting Badd hurted, for nearly losing Badd because of his own carelessness. Garou was ready if Badd wants to punish him, anything will do to get his forgiveness.

Regaining consciousness a little bit after hearing Garou's long rambling, Badd weakly ordering him to shut up and stop apologizing, because there's nothing wrong with Garou. In fact, Badd was actually grateful for Garou's good reflex to prevent the assassination from being 100% successful. That's why Badd still survive and alive, soon to be back being the Big Boss again. He smiled tenderly to reassure Garou, the hands that Garou was currently holding caressing him back.

If Garou still a small weakling kid like back then, he would be sobbing pitifully seeing his only bestfriend almost died. But now as a full-grown adult and the strongest martial artist, he just silently crying out of relief having his secret lover smiling brightly for him.

Just like a Phoenix, Badd wont die too easily, always regenerating fast and reviving again so he can comes back stronger than before. As Badd said, "Death is just a flesh wound, you can totally revive through fighting spirit and have another go!".

Wiping Garou's tears away with his hands, Badd whispering a "Thank you" for him. He cupped the bodyguard's cheeks before trying to get on sitting position, which Garou quickly supporting Badd's back by pulling him closer with his arms so he could sit properly on the bed. Now that they're facing eachother, Badd slowly reduce the distance between them until he could kiss Garou softly on the lips.

Garou was so happy to have Badd in his arms again, without any hesitation he reciprocated the kiss so it would go deeper, one hand still supporting Badd's back while the other caressing his nape, pulling the Boss even more closer than before. As the kiss becomes intimate, Badd humming in joy while his arms encircled Garou's neck, never letting him go.

They both were deep in passionate moment to notice that some of their family members saw the entire thing from the window, or from the door when the others wanted to relay the meeting report to Garou so he could tell it to their Boss. But since they were already in their own world and looked so happy, they just backed off silently and keeping the secret for the sake of the Boss. Or trying to cleanse their minds because it was "too much information to see".

Despite their status, with Badd as the infamous Yakuza Boss and Garou as his monster bodyguard, the family wont mind about their love life. As long as Garou keeps their Boss happy, why not? They both deserved everything best in their life..

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---- THE END ----

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Notes:

I'm so sorry for spawning another dumb AU headcanon again! And for working on completely impromptu writings instead continuing current WIP aaaah I can't focused enough my mind was going everywhere-- 😫😅🙏💦

Originally I was currently working for webcomic headcanon feat. short haired Fedex man (or mover?) Garou and tired Neo Heroes Badd, but something happened irl made me stressed out for whole 2 days nonstop. My mind was like a bottomless pit full of darker thoughts, I tried to think something anything so I wont be too focused on those thoughts. Hufff..

Then suddenly, this headcanon was born! Idk why I got this idea but I saw a Batarou fanart when scrolling through my phone gallery, it has nothing to do with Yakuza things but it sparked the whole idea! It was just Garou and Badd wearing matching Boyfriend Jackets™ with delinquent-esque tattoos motifs on the fabrics, with Badd resting on Garou's thigh while they're holding hands, both blushing brightly. I wish I could show you all but I forgot the source, since it was older fanworks from a Batarou Japanese artist on twitter 😢

I even trying to search what's popular tattoos motifs for yakuza members, and which one that matched their position/personality/depiction. It was kinda fun, imho.

Did you notice that tattoos placement for Badd and Zenko are mirrorring eachother? And that the tattoos motifs on their arms = their images (Dragon and Cherry-blossom, respectively), on their back = their way of life (Phoenix and Samurai, respectively)? Or Garou's tattoos, Demon on the front = his mask/job, while Wolf on the back = his true nature as both predator and protector? While Tareo's tattoos, Koi on the right arm = his soft and loving nature, Lotus on the left arm = his life journey to reach his full potential?

Also because I like the image of Zenko handling a sword like a badass, I was researching which sword martial art that suits her, both to self-defense and also to combat in emergency times. After looking through the types of sword martial art, I choose battōjutsu since it looks awesome yet still so elegant! Kinda punny when Badd choosing to use bat (literal bat) for fighting, whereas Zenko using battō (swordmanship) for fighting. Both words has similar pronounciation in Japanese, lmao! 😆

I hoped you enjoyed this AU, despite I know this wasn't impressionable enough as usual I'm so sorry. This idea was only done for 1 hour, another 1 hour to edit so it would coherent enough, so the quality was not quite good enough.. 😔 And after re-reading for several times, I just realized that I reused many elements/dynamic from my WereVamp AU welp, there goes me not being a creative person, already proven several times hhhh 😓

If there's anyone who wants to say something about this AU, please let me know. I'm always happy to receive some feedback even for the smallest, it's okay 👀💦👉👈 Also if anyone interested to use this Batarou AU, I will gladly rolling out the red carpet for you~ 👍❤❤

Thank you always for: @hiro-gari, @the-goddessfighter, @kaincuro, @garous-nipple, @jusqu-une-etudiante, @guby1620, @lovelybutnot-ablankcanvas, and @personne-tmblr, also all of Batarou shippers in the fandom! Thank you for always putting up with me on my lowly stupid af writings, I LOVE YOU guys! 😚❤💜💙💖💝💐

Wished me luck I can bounce back from the depression soon (I haven't getting any sleep for a whole day by the time I wrote this sentence ehehehe), and I hope you have great days, guys. Thank you all.. 🙏🙇💕💞💖🌼🌻

-Little1993lamb-

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~Lilia:

dw I gotchu😉 it’s opm_small_dduck on Twitter, their art is amazing ✨ I knew exactly which one u meant, definitely sets the tone for this hc!!

YAAAS tho I LOVE this AU! Especially them growing up together and having a reliable partner while being raised to fill their unique roles AWWW. They’ve had each other’s backs since the beginning and nobody better mess with them! Big Boss Badd 😤 it suits him so well 👏

The scene at the end tho 🥺 agh, I can imagine how shitty Garou would feel if something happened to Badd under his watch 😖 even if there was nothing he could have done to prevent it, he’d still be all emotional about it... Just might make out with the Yakuza Boss in front of his family without a second thought.., 🤷🏻‍♀️💗

And yes omg I’m love the tats!! The symbolism 👌 you nailed it!! Sword wielding Yakuza Zenko though 🙇‍♀️ Queen. Yes.

Thank you so much for this anon!! Hope you are getting some sleep 😩💖 LOTS OF LOVE TO YOU😚

masks

@aurumdalseni​ I’m so sorry for how long this took, but I had to talk myself out of making it a full-fledged long fic D:

send me a ship and a number and I’ll write a short fic

34. meeting at a masquerade ball au

Word Count: 3296

Swans and swallows and hawks twirl past, their wings made of skirts and tailcoats rather than feathers. A few of the most eccentric guests have entire nests woven into their hair, tiny little eggs perched gem-like among the branches. "We'll call it 'Flights of Fancy,'" Lance had declared, sprawled on his back on the chaise. "People will love it." Shiro had raised a dubious eyebrow at the time, but now, it seemed Lance's judgment had proven keen. The guests fill the hall to bursting, a flock of fine absurdity. Underneath his own mask, he itches with discomfort. Despite the extravagance of so many other masks, it's hard not to feel ridiculous with half a crow's wing across his face. "Relax," Allura chides. "You look dashing."

There's a teasing lilt to her tone that makes him roll his eyes. He'd elbow her for that, but they're not in the field right now, and they ought to pretend at propriety. For the princess to be lingering with her royal guard instead of dancing is already enough to have some older nobles' noses twitching.

"That's easy for you to say when you look regal even in chainmail," he retorts. She laughs and preens, just a little. The dress she's wearing is a startling white that nearly matches the starshine color of her hair and makes her dark skin that much more radiant. It sweeps down in featherlike ripples that make him think equally of a swan as of a white-capped ocean. Allura has always worn beauty and ferocity equally well. "Go dance with someone," he grumbles good-naturedly. "The courtiers are starting to make a line." It wasn't wholly untrue: half a dozen young nobles were trying their best to hover unobtrusively in the hopes that they might get to ask the princess for a dance before the others. "Fine. But you have to at least dance once tonight," she says, "or I'll insist on pole-arm practice at dawn." She can't see his expression under the mask, but he still turns an unimpressed look her way. Of the two of them, he's far more likely to be up at sunrise anyway. More often than not, he knocks at her chamber doors to rouse her for morning drills. Now, she rolls her eyes and waves off his unspoken objection. "At least one dance!" she calls over her shoulder as she finally turns to the waiting partners. “One dance,” he mutters, turning back to the room at large. It shouldn’t feel so daunting. Once upon a time, back before the war, he would have spent the whole night dancing. He’s always had restless feet, a restless heart, ill-suited to sitting idle. Movement has been his most constant state, and what better way to move than to music, among friends? Now, though, his skin starts crawling when his back faces the doors, and partners shy away from the metal of his hand. It will be good for him. Probably. One isn’t so overwhelming, after all, even if it takes a few rejections first. Failure stings less with familiarity. Someone has said that before – or something like it, anyway. “Are you looking for someone in particular?” The low voice, too close, makes him whip around, hand reaching for a sword that isn’t at his hip. It’s laid out on his dresser in his rooms because arms are forbidden at balls and social functions. Because this is court, not a battlefield, and it isn’t some enemy soldier who’s snuck up on him but a tall, trim man who’s now stepped back with his hands raised. Great job, Takashi. Scaring the man off before he even had a choice in the matter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man says, and Shiro’s mouth closes, his own apology aborted. “I didn’t think about the noise covering my steps.” “No, that’s alright,” Shiro says. “I was caught up in my thoughts.” The man cants his head as if in understanding. “To answer your question, though, no, I’m not looking for anyone in particular,” Shiro continues. He doesn’t explain the rest, that he was trying to decide who would be most likely to dance with him and not ask too many questions or read too much into it. The thought alone makes heat crawl up the back of his neck. “Well, that is a relief,” the man admits. Shiro tilts his head in question, and the man obliges. “I was hoping to ask you for a dance.” There’s a beat of silence as they look at each other, until finally, it sinks in and Shiro realizes he’s actually asking. “Oh! Yes, thank you,” he says. “Would you prefer to lead or follow?” the man asks, one slender hand extended. “I’m fine with either,” Shiro says, settling his hand in the man’s upturned palm, “but I can follow this time.” The room is filled to bursting, and the only spot they can find is along the side, near enough they have to stay close on turns or risk hitting the wall. Up close like this, Shiro is surprised at how small he feels next to the man. He’s always been on the tall end of average, but now, the man has to curve a little to meet his gaze. His mask is of a strange bird: purple and white feathers fan over his face in a pattern Shiro doesn’t recognize. “It’s a medicine bird,” the man explains. “My friend’s idea of a joke.” “You’re a doctor, then?” Shiro asks. The man leads him in a turn so that their arms meet at the wrist as they promenade. Around the room, all the couples are in the same posture. “I am,” affirms the man. “I was a field medic, but I’ve been more inclined to research recently.” A field medic here in the princess’s court? Even with the open doors of Allura’s court, he must have friends of some high rank. “And what brings a doctor to a masquerade?” Shiro asks. “Business,” the man says, and his tone makes Shiro suppress a smile of commiseration. “My commander and I have a meeting with the princess in the morning.” Behind his mask, Shiro raises his eyebrows. As captain of the princess’ guard, he knows her daily schedule and the meetings she has planned. “You’re Galra, then,” he says. The man pauses, halfway through bringing Shiro back into closed position. They are one of the only points of stillness in the sea of dancers. “I am,” he says, “but I swear we are on Altea’s side and not that of the emperor.” Shiro nods with a little hum of assent. Adrenaline still thrums under his skin at the proximity of the Galra, half-obfuscated memories screaming for him to fight or flee. He suppresses them with familiar ease, and not only because this isn’t the proper place for a scene. The man can’t know it, but Shiro was the one to convince Allura to meet with the Galra in the first place. He feels suddenly like some accidental spy, roped by circumstance into new reconnaissance. “And how are you finding Altea so far?” he asks. “A delight,” the man answers. “It is a beautiful country and the people quite welcoming. I wish I could spend longer here; there’s so much we won’t be able to see.” Shiro smiles, pleased by the sincerity of the assessment. Though he isn’t from Altea originally, it’s become his home over the past several years. He takes pride in others’ wonder at it. “How long are you staying?” he asks. The song is nearly over, but Shiro isn’t quite ready to let go. He’s intrigued by this Galran doctor-cum-scientist, by his honest words and sure hands. The man pauses to glance at the musicians before turning to Shiro. There’s a little hesitation before he speaks. “Would you care for one dance more? Since the last was only half the song,” he suggests. “It’s only fair,” Shiro answers. The man relaxes under Shiro’s hand, and a little smile curls up his lips. They pause while the band changes to the new song. “We’re staying for a week,” he answers in the lull. “Oh, then you have plenty of time to see the city at least,” Shiro says. “Even the woods around it, perhaps. The natural wonders here are nearly magical.” “Nearly?” asks the man as they begin again, dubious. Shiro laughs as he’s spun around himself. So he’s heard the stories. “Well, maybe more than ‘nearly’,” he admits. “Still, it’s beautiful, and safe as long as you have a guide.” The man breathes out a laugh and settles his hand back on Shiro’s hip. Heat seeps from his broad palm and through Shiro’s tabard, but it’s settling, grounding. The weight of his hand keeps Shiro close without being confining. “Then I’ll have to find a guide,” the man says. His voice is gentle and a little amused. It rumbles through his chest in a way that Shiro can almost feel. “And you?” the man asks. “You don’t have the accent of an Altean.” “No,” Shiro admits, “I’m from Terra – a small country to the north.” Most people at court hadn’t heard of it except through the paladins, and there were those in the Alliance who grumbled about all the paladins coming from such a small, primitive nation. He could understand the frustration but didn’t let it bother him much. They had no say over who the lions chose and if, someday, Black chose a new paladin, he would not object. Well, not too much. There was some room for fallibility with semi-sentient legendary weapons. “I’ve heard of it,” the man says. “How did you come to the court, then?” “Business,” Shiro replies, a little teasing. It earns him a small smile, and he shakes his head. “No, it was more luck than anything else. My party and I befriended an Altean party on the road, and the rest is history.” It’s broadly true, even if he’s omitting key details such as the Altean party being the lost princess and her spymaster and the friendship being born of a mutual need for support against a Galra attack. If the man had paid any attention to the recent history of Altea, and to be at court he must, then too many details would be a dead giveaway for Shiro’s identity. As much as he doesn’t feel inclined to lie to the man, he’s enjoying this brief foray in anonymity. “Some would call that fate,” the man remarks. Fate – or a very stubborn pride of lions. Shiro gives a small smile and lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “Some would call all paths fate,” he says. “I like to think we have a little say in it.” He’s always hated the idea of destiny, that some omnipotent force determines every facet of their lives. There’s too much cruelty in the world, too much hate and pain, for him to believe that it’s the way it’s meant to be. If only for the sake of his own belief in their cause, he needs to believe that they can change it. “I’ve never been a believer in destiny myself,” the man admits. Shiro straightens, a little surprised and pleased by the answer. Even without being able to see his face, the man seems to pick up on the shift in his attention. “It has always seemed…complacent,” the man continues. “As if the world is meant to be this way just because it has been this way.” There’s a vehemence to his voice that’s barely contained, a passion not often seen in the artifice of court. “It sounds like this isn’t the first time you’ve considered this,” Shiro remarks, gently teasing. The man’s sure steps stutter a little, as if abashed. His amber eyes widen, framed by the purple feathers of his mask. “I – well, I suppose I have given it some thought,” he admits. He sounds a little embarrassed, as if he hadn’t realized how sure his earlier words had sounded. Shiro smiles, amused and a little endeared despite himself. “Maybe you should add ‘philosopher’ to doctor and researcher,” he says. And rebel. The Galra had been vague when describing themselves, only saying they were a society dedicating to resisting Zarkon’s rule. They’d refused to give a name or any example of how, exactly, they resisted, and Allura had been sure it was a trap. Shiro had argued in their favor based only on a gut feeling, wishful thinking more than hard evidence. After speaking with this man, Shiro’s more sure of that choice. He speaks like someone who truly believes in their cause. More than that, he’s surprised by how much he wants to find out more., wants to know the man without masks or the court between them. It’s been a long time since he felt such an immediate magnetism to someone – not since Adam, before Kerberos was even a dream. “Perhaps when I’ve retired,” the man concedes. “Maybe by then there will be some university vacancy.” “Sounds a little more comfortable than being a field medic,” Shiro remarks. The man laughs, low and rumbling, and doesn’t refute it. A little pleased with himself, Shiro suppresses a smile. The musicians begin their denouement, too soon by far. It isn’t really proper to stay with the man all night, and Shiro hates to trap him. For his part, the man seems equally loath to separate. “I guess I should let you go,” the man says. The last note sounds, but their hands remain together. “I don’t want to keep you,” Shiro says, reluctantly. The man gives a little smile and polite nod. “Then, thank you for the dances,” he says. “It has been a great pleasure.” “The pleasure is mine,” Shiro answers. “Perhaps we’ll run into each other while you’re still in Altea – without the masks.” He says it in a moment of rare bravery and is rewarded by a genuine smile from the man. “That would be a true pleasure,” he answers. The rest of the masquerade passes rapidly, and though Shiro finds himself with more partners than he expects, he only sees the man once more. He’s standing with another man, shorter but broader, and bent so as to hear the other above the noise of the crowd. He catches Shiro’s eye and, though it’s difficult to see from this distance, Shiro thinks he spies a small smile. Shiro has to suppress his own as he turns back to his new partner. After that brief moment, he doesn’t see the man again. A feeling of contentment and loss unfolds in his chest, bittersweet like the last petals of a rare and beautiful flower. He goes to bed with the consoling thought that at least he has pleasant memories of a lovely night. In the morning, he wakes with the sun and starts his exercises and routine. The first hours of the day are always his alone, with the rest of the palace yet asleep. He walks along the parapets and pauses to stretch under the young sun. After his patrol and breakfast and a meeting with some of the guard, he heads up to accompany Allura to her next meeting. She’s currently in the tallest of the towers, and the view through the windows becomes more incredible with each floor he passes. The great forest around the palace fills nearly his whole view, a sea of green. Birds flit through the ancient trees, bright flashes of color in the dappled light. The doors to this room are an ivory wood carved with an intricate depiction of the legend of the white lion, and careful lines of blue paint accentuate the quintessence around the deity. He raises his hand and knocks out his standard rhythm – one long, two quick, two steady – and waits only a moment before Allura calls for him to enter. He pushes open the doors with ease and settles in parade rest just inside. They’ll be leaving shortly, or Allura wouldn’t have had him join them. “I look forward to speaking with you further over the week, Kolivan,” Allura is saying. “It seems your Blades could offer significant aid to the Alliance’s efforts.” Kolivan nods, his square face set in a stern expression. There are lines on his face as if from frequent scowling, and the rust-red tattoo across his forehead is disconcertingly near the color of blood. A closer look, though, shows little smile lines by his eyes, too, and Shiro’s impression improves. The other man is tall and slender, with just as serious an expression though his face is unlined by wrinkles. He holds himself with the kind of composed stillness of a dancer or soldier – someone used to making intentional choices with their movement and energy. Broad shoulders taper into a strong waist. If it were to come to a fight, Shiro’s not sure he and Allura could take them easily. “May it be a worthy endeavor to find our common ground,” Kolivan says. Allura gives a slight nod before turning to include Shiro in their group. Kolivan and the other man follow the gesture as if they’ve finally been given permission to acknowledge him. “This is Takashi Shirogane, the Black Paladin of Voltron,” Allura says. Shiro nods in greeting. Were they some other royal or noble, he’d be expected to bow, but right now, he’s Allura’s show of force. In diplomatic negotiations like these, it isn’t proper for the princess to bring out her armor and staff, but even a reminder of Voltron provides a certain kind of force to her arguments.   “It is an honor, Paladin,” Kolivan greets. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” Shiro says, even if he isn’t meeting them in any real sense. In his periphery, the other man straightens just enough to make the back of Shiro’s neck prickle. He hasn’t heard anyone come up behind him nor any indication of an intrusion. Black would let him know if there something had happened elsewhere in the castle – surely. The man’s new attentiveness doesn’t lead to immediate action, though. Instead, he simply seems to watch Shiro a little more closely, his weight more forward on the balls of his feet as if in anticipation. "You'll have to pardon me - I have another meeting to attend - but we are headed in the same direction," Allura says.

It's a good sign. If the meeting had gone poorly, she would've had a guard escort them while she took a back route to her next meeting. They fall in together with Kolivan and Allura in front and Shiro in step with the other man. Allura and Kolivan pick up some earlier conversation almost immediately, and Shiro has to hide a smile. A successful meeting indeed. "I did not realize I danced with such a decorated partner," the man says, and Shiro freezes. He stops short and turns to the man to find a little, hopeful smile curling up his lips. Shiro's eyes widen before he laughs, delighted. The man's expression eases into a full smile. Now that his face isn't hidden by a mask, Shiro can see the way his smile lights his whole face, turns into gentle crinkles at the corners of his eyes. It's like the lighting of a candle, a gentle illumination. "We did say we wanted to meet without masks," Shiro laughs. “Yes, though I didn’t hope it would be so soon,” the man affirms, still smiling. He extends his hand. “My name is Ulaz.” Shiro accepts it, his own nearly small in Ulaz’s broad palm in long fingers. “Shiro,” he says, unnecessarily. He pauses, struck by an idea. “You know, you were looking for a guide for the forest. I might just know of one.” Ulaz’s smile curves up at the invitation, and Shiro feels something like hope unfold in his chest. There might be something here worth investigating after all.

Heroes

Aviva offered a thin, sleepless smile as Halei returned to their quarters, her bare feet soundless against the rich carpet. Elerian followed close behind her, pale green robes drawn somewhat haphazardly about his shoulders. Where the Drow’s expression was one of cautious confusion, the High Elf showed outright concern, roused as he had been from reverie in the grey light of early dawn. “Thank you, sunshine,” Aviva murmured. “Good morning, elrandir.” Her sun and her star-wanderer, who made her heart whole. Sitting primly on the sofa, hands clasped in her lap, she shifted slightly to make space at either side and waited for the Elves to join her.

“Ci maer, Aviva?” Are you well? Sinking onto the sofa and resting a hand on the Tiefling’s knee, Elerian searched her face for the cause of his summoning. No longer possessed of the gift of foresight granted him by the cycle, the Seer could divine little from the nervous uncertainty in her eyes. Rather than sit at her other side, Halei remained standing, folding her arms and frowning at the floor as she resisted the urge to pace. All the Elves knew for certain was that Aviva had been ill for several days, and early-morning conversations rarely contained good news.

Realising her wife was not of a mind to sit, Aviva clucked her tongue and reached upward, slipping her fingers beneath Halei’s crossed arms and finding the hidden hand. Her other hand covered Elerian’s, her expression softening into a somewhat more reassuring smile. “I’m alright, I think. I’m sorry for the urgency, I just wanted to speak with you both as soon as possible. I, ah…” She looked from one Elf to the other, her gaze finally settling on the carpet at her feet as she took a deep breath. No sense in beating about the bush. “I’m pregnant.”

Elerian started, meeting Halei’s wide eyes over Aviva’s head before focusing on the Tiefling. The smile that spread across his face vanished as quickly as it appeared, worry drawing taut lines across his boyish features. “Aviva… You bring us joyous tidings. Why do you speak with such unease? What troubles you?”

“You’re worried about us, aren’t you?” asked Halei softly.

Aviva opened her mouth to answer the High Elf, looked up at the Drow in surprise, then huffed a bemused laugh and tugged at her to sit. “You know me too well.” Halei snorted but obliged the pull, settling on the sofa and sliding an arm around Aviva’s waist. The Tiefling continued, her words slow and measured: “We’ve already had all the talks about my lifespan versus yours. Even if I choose to come ‘round again after Aviva Lux is gone, I’ll still be someone new. This version of me will only be here so long. We’ve all of us, I think, come to terms with that.” She swallowed hard, her forced calm slipping. “But a child is different. Having a child with me means you won’t just watch me die -- you’ll watch them die, and their children, and their children’s children. Having me as a mother shortens all of their lives.” Lifting Elerian’s hand from her knee, she placed it atop Halei’s against her belly and covered them with both of hers. “Are either of you ready to go through that?”

For a few contemplative moments, no-one spoke. Elerian frowned at the hands on Aviva’s belly as he gathered his thoughts; Halei rested her forehead against the Tiefling’s shoulder and exhaled slowly. Finally, Elerian lifted his head. “If I may,” he began, pausing as both women met his eyes, “while your ability to put others’ needs before your own has always been admirable, I think I speak for both Haluei’en and myself when I ask: what do you want?”

“We’ve all lost so much in this life,” Aviva protested, her shoulders falling slightly. “I don’t want to give you another thing to lose. My people’s lives are so brief compared to yours. It’s-- It’s like Wilhelm said once: we tend to look older when you look away for too long. Even having Elven blood will only do so much. You are going to watch your child die. Is that little time going to be worth it?”

“That’s not what he asked,” Halei chided gently, the smallest smile playing at her lips. “You’re tangling yourself up in the future again. We can get to that later. Right here, now, in this moment of this life: what do you want?”

Aviva opened her mouth, closed it again. She looked over her shoulder at Halei, back to Elerian, silently pleading for direction, but her loves simply waited. Gods damn them, did they not see the heartache that would befall them? The loss, the pain? Her throat tight, she let her gaze drop to the collection of hands on her belly, pale and crimson and slate-grey. Her family. She knew there was only one answer.

“I want to have this baby,” she whispered.

A sharp exhale, almost a laugh, escaped from one of the Elves, and when Aviva looked up, Elerian was beaming. “I would be remiss if I said I’d never given thought to this day. To have a child… For my part, at least, it has been ever a source of joyful anticipation.” He tucked a lock of errant blond hair behind his ear and stretched his free arm along the back of the sofa, not moving his hand from Aviva’s belly. “We are Elves. Even the most withdrawn of our kind will eventually find themselves caring for those with shorter lives than ours. It is simply the way of things. We must all, at one point or another, make our peace with the inevitability of watching those people grow old and pass on. Have you not done the same for Grummer?”

“Grummer was old when we met--” Aviva started, but a look from Elerian quieted her. She knew that look; it was one that both her Elves had perfected. The ‘Aviva, you’re talking yourself into a worry spiral’ look. She huffed in frustration. “Won’t it be different?” she tried instead. “When it’s your own child?”

Elerian shrugged. “Perhaps. In fact, I daresay it will be quite different. It is never a simple thing to lose someone we love. But for my part, I’m more than willing to take that risk.” His smile returned. “It would be my honour.”

Aviva returned the smile in spite of herself. He had, as always, managed to balance that most inexplicable mixture of aged wisdom and youthful candor. But he was not the love she had held in their time of mourning; who would, in some ways, always bear the scars of the events that had led them to their shared destiny nearly a decade prior. Releasing the hands on her belly, Aviva leaned back into the sofa cushions to see both Elves more clearly. “Halei,” she addressed her wife, taking the same even tone as before. “My Sol. Our first night together, you said you had never thought about children. That it had never been your role to do so. That you likely could have, if you’d wanted, but you never had the time.”

Halei let out a puff of air. “Yeah, that sounds like me.” A wry smile. “Well remembered. It was a good night.”

It was a good night, and Aviva allowed herself a small smile at the memory before pursing her lips. “Now’s the time, my love.” She held the Drow’s ice blue gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve never been anything but honest with me. I need that honesty now, because I’m not going to do this without you. Knowing everything that will come, the generations of heartache and goodbyes… Do you want to be a mother?”

Though she did not look away, Halei was silent for some time. She brushed her fingers along Aviva’s jaw as she considered her answer, a gesture that had remained unchanged since the first time they touched. Finally, she sighed again. “I’m scared. Of course I'm scared. You're not wrong about anything, and we'd be idiots not to acknowledge that. There will be pain someday.” She smirked. “But you know me: I've never been one to think too far beyond the here and now.” Her smirk became a lopsided yet genuine smile. “We’ll face the future as it comes. If you’ve taught me anything, it's that to have lost more than most means you’ve loved more than most. That love seems pretty worthwhile to me.” The smile spread into a full-fledged grin. “And fool on you for thinking either of us would ever look away for too long.”

Releasing something between a sniffle and a laugh, Aviva took Halei’s face in both hands and kissed her. “Fool on me indeed.” The knot in the pit of her stomach began to ease, the fear in her heart replaced by elation. Wiping away the tears that threatened the corners of her eyes, she turned to Elerian and drew him into a kiss of his own. “Okay.” She nodded, breaking into a grin. “Okay!” Letting her body relax forward, she dropped her head into her hands, expelling the last of her nervous tension in one great breath. “Okay.”

Elerian glanced at Haluei’en, his expression a silent question. The Drow nodded, the lines around her eyes creasing as she smiled. Yes, she meant every word. Yes, she was ready. Yes.

Sitting up again only to slouch comfortably low on the sofa, Aviva laced her fingers over her belly, suddenly itching to dive into the details of what was to come. “Will we have to make some sort of royal proclamation?” she asked, peering up at Elerian. “Because if we announce anything to your nation before telling my mother, she may never forgive me.”

The High Elf laughed lightly. “Eventually, yes, but it needn’t be soon. We have plenty of time for private notifications. I shall need to speak with my spouses, and eventually make a formal statement to my advisors. Any public declaration will wait until we’ve had the chance to spread the news to friends and loved ones.”

“Morgan’s going to flip,” Aviva chuckled.

“I expect the same of Astos.” Leaning in conspiratorially, Elerian dropped his voice. “He would be loathe to admit it, but he has a rather significant soft spot for children.”

Both women snorted. “You say that like it’s supposed to be a secret.” Aviva shook her head. “I’ve seen your husband around children, elrandir; he turns into a complete mama bear.” A pause, then a small shrug. “Maybe seeing the leader of the Wood Elves doting on the Prince of Aelfheim’s baby will help bring you one step closer to peace.” She pressed her palms more firmly against her belly; she had, for the most part, become accustomed to being seen as a living symbol for the peoples of the world, but she wondered how that life would affect the child.

“Is this baby going to be in the line of succession?” asked Halei next, propping her elbow on the back of the sofa and resting her cheek on her hand. “Do surface Elves have a line of succession?”

“Mmm…” Elerian tilted his head from side to side. “Not as such. Succession is not quite as simple as ‘child of the current monarch’. When it comes time to choose an heir, I will do so, and train them as necessary. It could be that this child is the most likely candidate; should that be so, it would be up to the three of us to determine, as parents, if we want the child to assume that responsibility, then to the child themselves to determine if they are capable. More concisely: possibly, but not for a while yet.”

Aviva mulled over the Seer’s words. “That seems nicer, I think. Doesn't put all the weight on her immediately. She’ll get a bit of a normal childhood, or at least as normal as we can give her.”

“She?” Halei raised a brow.

“I dunno,” Aviva shrugged, “feels like a she. I mean, once they’re born they can be whatever they want, but for now she feels like a she.”

“A little moon,” Elerian smiled. “A reflection of you.”

“Well, I mean, she’s going to be a reflection of all three of us,” Aviva demurred, but the flush of excitement across her cheeks belied her protest.

“Better be.” Halei smirked. “If you think I’m not teaching that kid everything I know about getting into trouble, you’re sorely mistaken. She’ll be bar fighting before she can walk.”

“Halei no!” Aviva giggled, covering her face with her hands to block out the very thought.

“Halei yes,” Elerian replied immediately. While the two Elves had never shared any romantic inclinations, their mutual affection for the Tiefling between them had transformed their professional relationship into a deep, often mischievous friendship. “I imagine it falls to me to teach her proper etiquette. Can’t have her following too closely in your reprobate footsteps.”

Halei scoffed. “Please. I am a servant of the divine. Like you’ve never played a prank at a formal function.”

“I would never!” Elerian retorted, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense, but his expression quickly turned sheepish. “The last time I tried, Celestine read me the riot act.”

“Wives are good for that.” Halei winked at Aviva, who gave her a playful scowl in return. Then a wave of nausea turned her stomach and she curled in on herself, groaning pitifully.

“Gods, please, deliver me from morning sickness!”

Elerian offered a sympathetic laugh. “Is there nought we can provide for you?”

“No.” Aviva shook her head miserably. “It’ll pass in a few weeks. Then I’ll just progressively take up more space and need to pee all the time.” She sighed dramatically, imagining the changes in store for her body. Out loud, somewhat to herself: “It’s a good thing I didn't get my nipples pierced when I was drunk with Morgan in Corneria last year.”

“You were going to get your nipples pierced?” Halei sounded intrigued, and more than a little disappointed it had not come to pass.

“For an inebriated minute. Ship’s sailed on that now.” Aviva counted off the forbidden items on her fingers. “Also on the list of don’ts: don’t drink, don’t smoke, probably shouldn't get tattooed. No sushi, black tea, hot baths, flying, sleeping on my back, heavy lifting, cured meats, soft cheeses, cannabis, stress in any form, or basically anything fun or taxing.” A pause. “I did some research. Oh, and no oral sex.”

Elerian blinked in sharp surprise. “Excuse me?”

Aviva grinned. It was not often the Seer was caught completely off-guard, but she tended to be the cause more frequently than most. “You heard me. Evidently, getting air up there can be fatal. Best to avoid it altogether.”

“She’s right,” Halei added helpfully.

Coughing politely, Elerian gave a curt nod. “Good to know.”

“What I’m hearing is, now that you’re pregnant, you’re suddenly made of glass.” Halei’s ever-present smirk was playful. “Means it’s up to us to stop you running off and being a menace to yourself. Really, we should be grateful. You’ve given us a right good excuse to duck out of boring commitments.”

“I have never wanted anything more,” Aviva answered dryly, but her smile was far too broad for mockery. “By all means, use it as much as you like. I certainly will. ‘Can’t deal with your bullshit today, I am simply too fuckin’ pregnant! Got to roll myself on home now, fuckity bye!’”

Soft laughter surrounded her, bright and beautiful as the warmth of a hearth. As it faded, she reached for the Drow’s hand, then for the High Elf’s, looking them each in the eye before speaking. “This is… not a chance I thought I’d ever have again. I’m not even sure I would have wanted the chance, but now that it’s here, I… I can’t imagine not taking it. In this life, with you, it feels… right.”

“Too many lifetimes cut off too soon,” Halei murmured, broadening the meaning of Aviva’s words. In all the cycles they had spent together, they had never once lived long enough for children, though many incarnations had wanted them. Then the Drow smiled. “If I recall our first night correctly, I also said there would be a lot of your life left to decide again. So here’s to that.”

“Here’s to that,” Elerian echoed.

“Here��s to that.” Aviva spread her loves’ fingers against her belly, still soft and unobtrusive for the time being, and looked again at the strange rainbow of colour. For the first time since she had started to suspect there was life forming inside her, she was not afraid. What had been a source of uncertainty and dread had, all of a sudden, become the start of the next great adventure. There would be pain for them someday. There would be loss. But between now and then there would be so, so much love.

“I’m going to have a baby.” Her sunshine, her starlight, and now her little moon. She laughed. “We’re going to have a baby!”