#still a wip but at least i rebuilt what i lost and more | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

corvus--rex · 3 years

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Next in this bizarre collection of abandoned, semi-abandoned, and deeply sleeping wips is one that has more direct time travel. It's more in the deeply sleeping category as I'm still picking at it. It's also another Omegaverse, so if that's not your thing, feel free to skip it. Also, both Lance and Keith practice polytheistic religions that have been altered to fit an ABO setting

~*~*~*~*~

A few years after the war, the Paladins made the newly rebuilt Castle of Lions their home. Shiro and Adam retired from the Garrison and into diplomatic careers for the Coalition. Pidge’s parents were still with the organization, but she and Matt preferred to be more hands-on, maintaining the places on the castle and with the now-former rebellion. The still close-knit team were still recovering from the recent bonding ceremony for Hunk and Shay, who were also staying aboard the castle, although it was still uncertain as to whether or not human and Balmeran genetics were compatible; they were just waiting on genetic compatibility testing. Lance and Keith, however, were ahead of the game. They had gotten engaged while on the way back to Earth, announcing it to Lance’s family on their return. Not wanting to wait, and with no way of knowing what would happen in their war with Honerva, they’d held a small bonding ceremony the night before leaving Earth for the second time.

Keith had it the worst when it came to post-Hunk/Shay bonding recovery. He wasn’t going to miss Hunk and Shay’s bonding for anything, even if it meant dealing with Lance’s fussing. It had gotten bad enough during the reception that both Krolia and Lance’s mother Mariana told him to sit down and let his pregnant mate be. Keith could understand where Lance’s caution came from. While their little one was only one quarter Galra, and developing as a human child would, Keith’s half-Galra physiology had other ideas, his body and hormones changing like a shorter Galra pregnancy. It meant that he needed to be monitored more closely than he would if the pup’s development and his body’s lined up. It also meant that they didn’t have a concrete due date, and that it was entirely possible he could deliver a premature pup. But at sixteen weeks Earth time, there were still another two months until they needed to watch for their little one’s arrival. They had stayed behind on Earth an extra couple days after Hunk and Shay’s bonding ceremony for some of Lance’s extended family who wanted to see them both before the pup was born. Keith was exhausted from the three days of parties surrounding the ceremony and the event itself, but they were headed back to the castle after that and wouldn’t be back for another eight months, and by then the pup would be at least two months old.

Nadia and Sylvio were excited about their cousin, and had to be reminded that Keith was tired from everything going on. Right then, they wanted to see the inside of the Altean pod the matepair were taking back to the castle. Keith and Mariana burst out laughing when Lance appeared with his niece and nephew each tucked under an arm.

He “dropped” the giggling, squirming pups in front of his oldest brother. “I think you lost something.”

“Who, me? I haven’t lost anything,” Luis said, feigning ignorance.

Still laughing, Nadia and Sylvio began scaling their mountain of a father. Once they got to hip height, he grabbed them both the same way Lance had been carrying them and took off running while mock screaming, making his pups shriek with laughter. Lance just laughed to himself and shook his head at his brother and niblings.

“Like you can talk. You know damn well you're going to be just the same with ours,” Keith called.

“Yeah, probably,” Lance admitted, walking over.

“‘Probably’ nothing, mijo. I know you will,” Mariana said, “Just don’t forget to call when that little one arrives. We’ll be praying for a safe delivery.”

Lance’s parents, grandparents, and aunts and uncles all practiced Santeria, and while Lance and his siblings had been raised in it and still believed, none of them actively practiced. His lack of participation didn’t lessen his appreciation of his mother’s intentions. He would have been worried when it came to telling Keith about his family’s practices if he didn’t already know about his Omega’s neo-paganism. Keith, likewise, had been relieved when Lance didn’t immediately declare him insane and instead explained about his own family.

“Thanks, Mami. So will we,” he said, hugging his mother.

“Doesn’t matter where you are in the universe, the Orisha will hear you,” she told him, then pulled Keith in, “And so will your gods, mijo.”

“I know. Thanks, Mami,” Keith answered.

The pod’s comms chirped, and Lance disentangled himself from his mate and his mother, disappearing into the small craft. Mariana wrapped an arm around Keith’s waist and he leaned into it, fully appreciating her maternal warmth. She was one of a very small number of people who had open permission to touch him. She understood that, especially after Lance had explained about Keith’s childhood in the foster care system and that he was largely touch-averse unless you were one of a select few who had earned his complete trust. She’d earned it through being the woman she was and treating Keith like one of her own children.

She reached over, resting a hand on his growing belly. “I pray for this pup every day. You two are going to be wonderful parents. And I know that you both will be safe up there – you and this little one.”

Keith breathed a laugh. “Altean technology makes humans look like we’re still playing with sticks and rocks. I mean, on an interstellar level, we kinda are. I’ve been thinking about that lately,” he admitted, “The ‘we’ part. I’m still half-Galra. Most of the time I feel like the only places on Earth I feel like I belong are out at my Dad’s place, and here.”

“Oh, mijo. It doesn’t at all matter that your wonderful mother isn’t human, or that you share her blood. What matters is what you do with it. And both of you used your heritage to do the right thing. And now she’s leading her – your – people to a new way of thinking. You both have done so much good. Never forget that. Or that you’re family. You’ll always belong here. And not just because you're carrying my grandpup.”

“We weren’t exactly planning on this.”

Mariana laughed. “Neither was I. For any of them. None of my five children were planned. We always wanted pups, but we decided to let it happen however it was going to happen. And we were blessed with five beautiful pups.” She nudged him gently. “Tell me, do you have any thoughts on what your pup might be? I knew for all of them, even when my mother was trying to tell me that I was wrong. Especially with Lance. She was convinced he was an Omega. And then he was born all Alpha.”

Keith nodded, understanding. “Yeah, that’s apparently not just a human thing. Mom said she knew I was an Omega before I was born. I think this one is too. I’m pretty sure it’s an Omega boy. Little brat keeps moving and won’t let us see, so we don’t know for certain yet, but I feel like it’s an Omega boy.”

“Oh, Veronica was the same. We didn’t know until she was an Alpha girl until she was born. And she’s still stubborn and independent.”

{What do you think, sweetheart? You an Omega boy?} she asked the unborn pup.

Her question was answered with a sharp kick.

“Is he always like that?” Mariana asked in surprise.

“Yes. Yes he is. I’ve been feeling him moving for almost two months, but it got more intense about three weeks ago. That, apparently, is a Galra thing.”

“What’s a Galra thing?” Lance asked, walking down the loading ramp.

“How hard the pup kicks,” Keith said.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “It really is that bad. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night before because of it.”

“Now imagine how I feel! Anyway, what was the comm call?”

“Oh, right. Just Allura asking when we were planning on going back up. I told her we were finishing getting the pod packed up and we’d be leaving within the hour. Varga. Whatever.”

Mariana hugged them both again. “Don’t forget. I want to know.”

Keith’s lips twisted in an amused smile. “As soon as we do,” he said.

Lance didn’t ask about it until they were settled in the pod’s cockpit and on their way to the wormhole point. “What are we telling my mother when we know it?”

“Huh? Oh, the pup’s primary and secondary sexes. I said that I feel like it’s an Omega boy, but that we haven’t been able to confirm it,” Keith explained.

“Yeah, he’s being a little brat about it,” Lance agreed, “We will find out eventually,” he added, poking the unborn pup only to be rewarded with another kick. “See? Brat.” He stood up, stretching hard enough to pop his spine. He let his arms drop and extended a hand to his mate. “Come on. Allura’s not opening a wormhole until we’re way out of system, and I want snuggles.”

When they first packed the pod to leave for Earth, Lance had shifted a few things around in the passenger compartment, making room for Keith to set up a nest. He was worried about their pup and was trying to just be a good Alpha for his Omega. Keith was particularly hormonal that day and broke down in tears when he saw the cleared space, his favorite nesting materials neatly sitting in the middle of it. Lance had been afraid he’d accidentally done something wrong until he found himself with his arms full of sobbing, pregnant Omega telling him how amazing he was through hiccupped tears. The nest was built and stayed there until they landed on Earth, where it was taken down and rebuilt in Lance’s old bedroom, right on top of his queen bed. Now it held their scents mixed with Lance’s family’s. Lance also knew about the sweater Krolia had given Keith for the express purpose of fitting it into his nest.

Keith let Lance lead them through to the rear of the pod and got settled into the nest. Leaning back against his Alpha, Keith reached into his shirt and pulled out the crystal he always wore. A clear quartz point, with a triple moon carved from rainbow moonstone woven into the silver wire wrapping the top of the crystal. He ran his fingers over the moonstone, feeling its carved lines and points, the smooth gem comforting. He was safe and comfortable in his Alpha’s arms, tucked into their temporary nest, but he still worried. He knew better than anyone that their pup could come earlier than anyone was comfortable with, especially him. He sighed, letting the quartz drop.

“What’s up?” Lance murmured sleepily into Keith’s neck.

“I’m just thinking again,” he said, the pad of his thumb following the back of his fingers in a small line on his belly.

Lance knew what he was thinking, read worrying, about, and wove their fingers together. “I know. But even worst case, even if he is three months early, he’ll be ok, and so will you. There is literally no one else like you in the entire universe, and all of this is new to everyone. Best we can do is take it one day at a time.” He grabbed the tablet from outside the nest, checking the autopilot. “We still have about an hour before we get to the wormhole point. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

Keith yawned, curling up in the nest, Lance wrapping his arms around his Omega. “Nap sounds great,” he mumbled, half-asleep already.

Lance didn’t last much longer, drifting off the second Keith’s breathing evened out in sleep.

They were woken by alarms blaring throughout the pod. Keith shot up, startled and growling. Lance went for the tablet, checking the readings from the pod’s sensors. They should still have been twenty minutes out from the meeting point, but the star map showed them being in an entirely different galaxy, the familiar Milky Way nowhere in sight. He leapt from the nest, running for the cockpit. When Keith had calmed a bit and hauled himself out of his spot and to the cockpit, Lance was at the controls.

“Get yourself strapped in,” the Alpha said without looking up, “We’re headed straight for an asteroid field and there’s no time to change course.”

Lance changed the controls to manual and the front shielding changed from opaque to transparent, showing the looming ancient debris in stunning real time. Keith sat himself in the co-pilot’s seat, fastening the 4-point harness over his chest just in time for the first asteroid to go whipping past. He wanted to take the controls, but he knew that his awkward current shape made it nearly impossible for him to fly with the deftness an asteroid field required. Lance had no such problem, weaving through the asteroid field with his usual liquid grace.

When they finally broke through and into empty space, they still had no real idea of where they were. Keith brought up the galactic map. He noted several familiar planets and systems, realizing that they were on the far side of the Andromeda galaxy. As he was relaying all of that to his mate, the pod’s comm chirped with an incoming hail. It was the castle, but something was different and they couldn’t quite put their finger on it. Lance answered the hail, Allura’s face filling the screen.

“Hey, Allura. Do you have any idea what the fuck just happened? We were on our way to the rendezvous point for the wormhole and now we’re here,” Lance asked.

Allura stared at them in complete shock. “I – I don’t understand. How are you two there? You can’t be there. You’re both here on the castle.”

Lance and Keith shared a confused look. “No. We’re not,” Keith said slowly, “We just left Earth a couple hours ago and were on our way to the spot you designated for the wormhole back to the castle.”

“Earth?! What the quiznak are you talking about?! Stay there. I’m going to tow your pod into the castle and we’ll talk about whatever prank this is.” The shock was in her voice at first, before it became almost angry. She looked back at them from her projected control screen, and then looked at them both more carefully. “Lance, how in the quiznak do you have Altean marks?”

“From you?” he answered, now totally confused. Had she forgotten reviving him after he took the full damage of an energy attack meant for her? Did she not remember that he’d ended up with sky blue Altean marks as a result of the sheer amount of quintessence she poured into him?

“That’s impossible. I can’t give you our markings. And Keith, have you gained weight?” She was still confused, but turned it to the Red Paladin.

“Not in the last three days,” he said, then glanced down and back to her, “Not that way, anyway.”

They felt the pod guided into the pod bay and land softly. “Stay there, inside the pod,” Allura said, “I’ll be right there.” The screen cut out, leaving them alone again.

“What in the absolute fuck is going on?” Keith asked.

“I wish I fucking knew,” Lance answered. “Does she really think this is some kind of over-elaborate prank? She can’t. She knows us. Knows we’re mated. Knows you’re pregnant.”

“Yeah, that was weird. Asking me if I've gained weight. I mean, I know I've put on about fifteen pounds, but that’s almost completely directly related to him. I haven’t really changed anywhere else.”

Lance sighed. “Yeah. I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. But at least we’re back. We can get your nest rebuilt in our suite and take a fucking nap.”

Something told Keith to leave his nest as it was, and he told Lance as much. They also decided not to get back into it while they waited for Allura. The matepair waited in the open seating, Keith nuzzling into Lance’s scent gland. It was something they’d come to realize was a side-effect of his pregnancy. He couldn’t get enough of his Alpha’s scent and would use any and every excuse to get close and scent himself, not that Lance minded it at all. It always stroked his Alpha’s ego that their Omega was so devoted to them.

They both looked up when there was a failed attempt to open the rear door of the pod, which was followed by a polite knock. “Hang on a tick,” Lance called. He extracted himself from his snuggly koala of a mate with a soft kiss to his temple and a gentle hand on their pup.

Allura stood in the doorway, possibly even more shocked than she was on the call. He was still in the faded blue t-shirt and grey sweats he’d been wearing all day, not having been bothered to change. He was expecting an off-hand comment about not being up to his usual standard at most, but she just stood there, staring like he was a new race they’d never met before.

“Allura?” he asked.

“Lance, what the quiznak is going on here? Where’s Keith?” she asked when she found the words.

“I was going to ask you the same thing. And Keith’s right here. The kids were all over him this morning and he’s still pretty tired.”

He didn’t think it was possible for Allura to be any more confused or her eyebrows to arch higher, but she was and they did.

“What kids? Why should he be tired?”

Keith listened to the questions being fired back and forth. Something wasn’t adding up. Allura knew they’d been with Lance’s family. She’d met Nadia and Sylvio before and knew what kind of energy they had. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he was worn out after dealing with them. Keyword shouldn’t. But she was. He decided to see her for himself, or more to the point, for her to see him. He slid out from the seating area, turning the corner to where she and Lance were asking questions without answering any. He stepped up beside Lance, sliding an arm around his Alpha’s waist, his free hand resting on his pregnant belly.

Allura’s jaw dropped. He knew she could tell that he wasn’t faking, and that she somehow either didn’t know or had forgotten that he was four months pregnant, even if he looked farther along because of his body’s reaction.

“I – how?! How did this happen?! When?! What is happening?!”

“Allura,” Lance said softly, “Has anything happened in the last two or three quintants?”

“What? No. Nothing. And you two are here onboard the castle. Keith, you said you would be in the training deck for at least a few vargas, and Lance, you were helping Hunk in the kitchen. How did you two end up out there and in a pod I didn’t know had gone missing? And don’t tell me you were on Earth. That’s utterly impossible. We can’t go back without leading the Galra directly there, you both know that. And how have you been hiding not only your apparent relationship but also – Keith, you're pregnant! How do you expect to be able to fly the Red Lion in your condition?”

The feeling of something being fundamentally off continued to tickle Keith’s brain. An impossible thought hit him. “Allura, I need you to answer this question honestly. How long have we been out here with you?”

“What do you mean? It’s only been about three phoebs, but we’ve made good progress in the war effort. I really believe we’ll win. But you already knew that.”

Lance cut her off before she could voice a suspicion about them being spies. He realized as soon as Keith said it. “I think we somehow managed to go back in time. We really are who we say we are, and so are you. But you obviously don’t know anything about us as we are now. I can promise that we’re not hiding anything from you.”

“Well…I don’t know that we can really say that…” Keith said, trailing off. If the them that Allura knew had only been in space for a few months, then he and Lance were already seeing each other secretly. But then they decided that keeping it from their friends made absolutely no sense, even if it meant that Pidge lost her bet with Hunk.

“Ok, fair,” he said, then turned to Allura, “What was the last major event that happened related to the war? It’ll help us narrow down when exactly we are.”

“You two seem awfully accepting of this,” she said, a note of accusation in her voice.

“We – we’ve been through a lot,” Keith said, intentionally not elaborating. They had been through a lot – alternate reality, quantum abyss, the quintessence field, Bob, finding themselves inside Honerva’s mind – but they couldn’t tell Allura any of it.

“And if we tell you anything, we don’t know if or how it could affect anything,” Lance added.

“Hm, I suppose that’s true. The last major event? Well, we’ve only just found out about your Galra heritage, but after meeting with Kolivan and Antok, I have come to realize that your blood does not define you. You both have only just returned from separate missions. Keith, you and Hunk went to retrieve the Scaultrite from the Weblum-” Keith shuddered involuntarily at the memory “-and Lance, you, Shiro, and Pidge went to rescue Slav from Beta Traz. He’s still here on the castle with us.”

“Wait wait wait – Slav’s still here?” Lance asked. He turned to Keith. “If Slav’s still on board, then he would be able to help figure out what happened. Maybe find a way to get us back to our own time. And hopefully before…” he trailed off, giving Keith a look that the Omega understood. Before the pup comes.

Allura also understood what Lance hadn’t said. “Um, how – how far along are you, exactly?” she asked awkwardly.

“That’s a little complicated,” Keith answered. “The pup’s developing like a normal human, but because I’m half Galra, my body is changing and reacting as if I were completely Galra. Pregnancies are shorter. Six Earth months, or about four and a quarter phoebs, to a normal human ten months or just over seven phoebs.”

“So, you're saying that with how your body is reacting, your pup could be premature?”

“It’s a distinct possibility. But to actually answer your question, sixteen Earth weeks. Almost eleven and a half movements. It gives us no more than five movements to figure this out and get us back to our time.”

Allura nodded, making her decision. “All right. We’ll meet in the lounge first. Paladins and Coran only. Shiro…doesn’t exactly do well with Slav.”

Lance and Keith laughed. “That’s something we will never forget,” Lance said as they followed her out of the pod. Keith turned, locking it with their biometrics. Given the alteration to Lance’s DNA thanks to Allura’s quintessence infusion, they knew that it would stay locked. Their younger selves didn’t have a chance.

They walked in silence for a while, following Allura down lesser used corridors to the lounge entrance that was never used. “Is there anything you can tell me?” she asked, “About your time. How far into our future are you?”

“I don’t know that that’s a good idea, Princess,” Lance said, “You already know that we make it to Earth safely, and I don’t know how that might already be affecting our time. I understand that you want to know if it’s all worth it in the end, but I can’t tell you.”

Allura thought for a few seconds. “I understand. My knowing about the future could affect the present. It could change our decisions about things that will change the outcome of the war. And I take it that however the war does end, it’s the best possible outcome.”

“We think so. There’s a lot more going on than just Zarkon, but if you knew what, I don’t know – there are just too many variables.”

She paused in the doorway to the lounge. “I really do understand. There are more factors and facets to this war than I am currently aware of. Knowing about them now could upset the balance. Well,” she said, gesturing to the room, “Make yourselves comfortable. You already know where everything is.” Her smile was one of genuine affection for the Paladins in front of her.

“Thanks, Allura,” Keith said, maneuvering past her.

Once they were seated comfortably (“Comfort is a bit relative for me at the moment,” Keith told her with a laugh) she called for the Paladins and Coran, and them only, to come to the lounge.

Lance was the first to arrive, ready to drop onto the sunken sofa from the floor above, but stopped himself when he realized he was looking at something that looked like the back of his own head. He only knew what that looked like after a prank involving his siblings and every single mirror in the house. He saw Allura sitting at one end of the semicircle and slowed, turning to her.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Ah. We should wait for the others to arrive before we explain,” Allura said.

“Actually,” one of the unknown people said and Lance nearly choked at hearing his own voice. A little rougher and maybe older, but it was definitely his own voice. He realized the other owner of his voice was still speaking. “I think we should start now. I know we’ll have to repeat ourselves, but I know that you’re kinda nauseous right now,” a long, tan finger pointed in his direction, “And I really think this is the better solution.”

“If that’s what you –” Allura was cut off by the next arrival.

“Allura? Why are we meeting here?”

Pregnant Keith snorted at how young he sounded. His mate patted his head. “I know. We sound like babies.”

The younger Keith froze.

“Yes we’re real. No you're not hallucinating,” pregnant Keith said without moving. He knew what his younger self was thinking.

“Well, as long as we’re both here,” Lance said, “We should explain as much as we can.”

The younger Red and Blue Paladins walked around to the steps and froze again when they were suddenly face to face with themselves. Their older selves were snuggled together in the middle of the sofa horseshoe, not caring who saw them. There was too much for them to take in all at once, but they did notice Lance’s Altean marks and the undeniable fact that the older Keith was significantly pregnant.

“Yeah,” pregnant Keith agreed, “It’s a lot to unpack. We’ll tell you what we can.”

The younger Paladins sat together opposite Allura, not knowing what to say.

“As far as we can tell, we’re from your future. We don’t know how we got here. We were on our way back to the castle and decided to let the autopilot handle the flying while I had a nap and woke up to all the alarms going off about a half hour later. We realized that we weren’t where we should be and found the castle after clearing the asteroid field nearby.”

“And, I’m – or, you – I don’t even know how to phrase that,” the younger Keith stumbled through.

Older Keith just laughed. “We? Since we’re the same person, just at different ages. But yes, I’m pregnant. I'm due fairly soon, so we need to figure this out as quickly as possible.”

Both his mate and Allura noticed how he phrased himself, but said nothing, understanding why he had done it.

It was the younger Lance’s turn to stumble through a sentence. “So, you’re – and – is that –”

Older Lance snickered at his younger self. “Yes. Yes we are, and yes it is.”

“What?! But -”

“But nothing,” older Lance said, “Although that might have prevented this.”

“Yeah, sure. You try telling my heat brain that,” pregnant Keith said.

The younger Keith pointed at his older self. “That. But, how? I mean, I’ve always been so careful about taking it on time. Unless…”

Pregnant Keith shook his head. “No, that hasn’t changed. It failed. We weren’t planning on this. But it happened, and we wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“Ok, so I just need to know one thing. Not about the future, not that.” His hand went to his chest almost unconsciously. “Just so I know. That you’re really me.”

Without moving from his spot snuggled into Lance’s side, Keith reached into his t-shirt and pulled the quartz and moonstone pendant out, letting it fall to his chest. “It was the first thing I ever bought for myself after Dad died. He taught me the basics of the Craft and I've kept it up ever since. Helps me feel connected to him even though it represents Omegas.”

Younger Keith nodded, holding his own crystal. “Yeah. It does.”

Looking from his not-so-secret boyfriend, the younger Lance turned to his own older self. “And he knows about…”

Older Lance cracked an amused smile. “Yeah, he does. But wait, haven’t you already told him about us?”

“Oh, well, yeah. I guess that didn’t really make sense, did it?”

“No, not really. But the last thing Mami said to me when we left her last was that it doesn’t matter where in the universe we are, the Orisha will hear us.”

“That – that’s –”

“What Mami said when I left for the Garrison. Yeah, she still says it.”

Pidge was next to arrive, and stopped when she saw the two older versions of her friends.

“No, you haven’t been up long enough to hallucinate yet,” pregnant Keith said through laughing.

“Come sit down, Pigeon. We’ll explain once everyone’s here,” Lance said, waving her forward.

They were all surprised that it hadn’t been Shiro to appear first, but he and Hunk were next, walking in together. If they thought that Pidge had been surprised, it was nothing compared to the double take from the Black and Yellow Paladins. Allura had yet to say anything once her Paladins began filtering in, and she still didn’t, letting the two older Paladins take the lead.

“Hi, Shiro,” pregnant Keith said. He still hadn’t moved from his mate’s side, enjoying the warmth and safety of his Alpha’s touch.

“What in the almighty fuck is going on?” Shiro asked, stunned.

“We’re just waiting for Coran, and then we’ll explain.”

Shiro and Hunk sat down, among the other Paladins. Hunk seemed to look for some kind of comfort from the familiarity of Pidge, and Shiro sat himself between his Lance and the older Keith with an expression told them that he was trying very hard to wrap his head around the idea of Keith being pregnant. Coran came running in a few minutes later.

“Oh, my apologies, Princess. The scanners went all wiffeley for a few ticks. They’re perfectly fine now.” He noticed the two new additions for the first time. “Erm, Princess…” he started, scratching his cheek with one gloved finger.

“Yes. It’s why I’ve called you all here,” Allura said, “When I was alone on the bridge briefly, scans picked up a single Altean pod. When I hailed it, well…”

“It was us,” the older Lance finished, “We seem to be from your future.”

Everyone stopped, if only briefly, before exploding into questions and demands. Questions about what happened, how they got here from their own time, how did the war end, what’s it like now, did everyone survive…

Lance put a hand up, silencing the onslaught. “We can’t answer most of those questions. Anything we tell you could possibly alter the timeline, and I can’t risk that.”

Pidge pouted, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Well, we already know you two end up together. And if you're here, then you guys obviously made it out.”

Pregnant Keith shifted, sitting up but not leaving his Lance’s personal bubble. “Yes, we did make it out. And yes, we know what it’s like now. But is it worth it to know about our future when it could change your own?”

For maybe the first time in her life, Pidge didn’t have an immediate answer. Her natural curiosity demanded to be sated. The older versions of two of her best friends were sitting in front of her with the answers to so many questions. So much of her own personal stress could be relieved just by knowing if she ever found Matt and Sam. She could know the outcome of the war. But thinking about those things, she realized that Keith was right. If she did know, it would change what she did, how she could react to things. The butterfly effect wasn’t real, or, if it was, it didn’t quite work that way, but a change to a major event could lead to a cascade of differences. And there was no way to know if those would be good changes or bad. But she didn’t get to answer the semi-rhetorical question because Slav walked in at that exact moment.

“So we’re in this reality,” he said, seeing the future Lance and Keith. He narrowed his eyes at them. “You haven’t told anyone anything, have you?”

“Nothing that wasn’t immediately obvious,” Keith answered, settling back against his mate.

“Ah. Right. I need to confirm things about you two before I can recalculate probabilities, but we should discuss this –” His owlish eyes narrowed again as he looked around the room. “- privately.”

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

#my writing #abandoned wips #klance #omegaverse #abo #omega keith kogane #alpha lance mcclain #mpreg #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #keith x lance

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swaps55 · 4 years

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5 Questions for Writers

Tagged by @foofyschmoofer! Perfect timing, as I am chewing on how to re-frame a new scene and haven’t gotten anywhere with it, ha.

Tagging @citadelsushi, @pigeontheoneandonly, @nightingaleseeking, @joufancyhuh and seriously anyone else!!!!! No obligations.

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

Right now? Joker. He comes so easily, and makes every scene he’s in a delight. There’s a lot of him in Sonata, my current WIP.

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

...I feel like if I say anything other than fake relationship I’d look like a complete liar. But also just epic, endless pining and hurt/comfort. The classics.

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

Would it be really selfish and terrible if I gave you two?

...Imma give you two.

I hopelessly love everything I wrote about the Battle of the Citadel from Joker’s perspective, from here.

The Normandy shot through the relay under Joker’s steady hands, a swath of hot dust and radioactive particles smothering the shutters with blue-lit gas.

Joker wasn’t looking at the shutters. All he’d find was a cocoon of stillness and silence. But the ship’s sensors were alive with heat – a chaotic hail of ordinance and high velocity projectiles tearing across the vacuum, with no gravity or air resistance to stop or even slow them down.

Just a target. Whether they reached their intended target was irrelevant. Every quantum torpedo loosed in the melee would eventually find something to hit.

Newton’s first law was a bitch.

Ladar identified dozens of enemy vessels, from bombers and frigates that darted swiftly in and out of attack lanes to the slower, sluggish cruisers and dreadnoughts anchored all around the tightly sealed cylinder of the Citadel.

Alliance transponders winked into existence around the relay like tiny stars, the overwhelming task of dispatching so many ships at once creating staggering amounts of drift. The smaller, more maneuverable vessels immediately dispatched to cover the flank of the Everest, the kilometer long dreadnought Hackett presided over with a proportionate main gun that made the Hiroshima bomb seem like a tea party, complete with princess hats.

Against the geth, it might not be enough.

Fighters launched in droves, streaking towards the geth onslaught as the bow guns of cruisers sounded off in rhythmic patterns. Light on light, heat spike upon heat spike, a carefully but brutally coordinated clash of ordinance playing out in energy pings and return signals.

The second one is this, from Celestial Navigation. I am so fucking proud of it. Mildly NSFW:

Shepard’s armor is as much a part of him as the person underneath it, and he’s not just talking about the hardsuit. There’s the military fatigues. The leather jacket and jeans that make it really fucking hard to pay attention. He’s got shield emitters on all of them, and they’re no less protective for being figurative.

But skin tells a different story. It doesn’t hide the scars. The wear. The truth. Shepard’s all lean muscle over hard edges – biotic metabolism, just like his – not an ounce of him wasted or spared. His skin is a star chart of things he’s put his body through, and Kaidan’s navigating it as best he can. It hurts to think how much of that history Cerberus erased when they brought him back from the grave. The things Kaidan can’t see. Things he’ll never know.

So he focuses on the things he does know. Shepard’s body is familiar, but only as it functions in a hardsuit. Where it’s weak. Where it’s strong. How long before his amp overheats, how much punishment his barrier can take before he’s spent and vulnerable. He knows Shepard’s weak left hip – still weak, even after he’s been rebuilt from the ground up, because the man doesn’t know how to roll to the right every now and then – and how to protect him from it.

Now instead of gauntleted hands searching ablative for a breach to seal, Kaidan’s fingers skate over bare skin, find where it’s whole and where it’s broken. Instead of checking his biofeed and reading Shepard’s pulse he feels it under his palm, flesh and blood instead of numbers in his HUD.

This is better. This is much better.

It’s better when Shepard’s hand glides across the inside of his thigh and wraps Kaidan’s leg around him. It’s better when their limbs tangle in the sheets, and Kaidan nearly knocks him off the bed trying to get free from the loop snaring his foot. It’s better when the muscles of Shepard’s belly jump as Kaidan ghosts them with his fingers.

Shepard threatens him with bodily harm if he ever lets it slip that the Savior of the Citadel is ticklish.

They’re messy but eager, feeling their way through one touch at a time. The angles that fit. The ones that don’t. They’re both seasoned soldiers with joints that pop and bones that ache, nursed along each day with a little dose of aspirin and a lot of grin and bear it. Some they already know, others they discover with winces and grunts when a hand strikes the wrong spot or a something torques left when it needs to torque right.

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

I always default to dialogue from an unfinished story that I still think is the pinnacle I will never top, but so I don’t post it again I’m going with something different here. This is from Plans, and I absolutely love this little interaction.

He was still staring out the window when a familiar presence settled in beside him. Arms draped over the railing, familiar bow in his shoulders, weight on his right foot. Before Cerberus, Shepard had always rested his left foot because of that bad hip. Kaidan wondered if that was still true or now just a force of habit. Had Cerberus rebuilt that hip the way they'd upgraded his amp, or had their “bring him back the same as before” mantra extended to nagging injuries? There was so much about Shepard he needed to relearn. And yet so much he didn't.

“Remember when I said you should annoy the shit out of Udina?” Shepard asked.

“Yeah,” Kaidan said, flushing a little.

“That wasn't exactly what I had in mind.”

Kaidan jabbed his toe at the railing. "First day jitters, I guess.”

Shepard smiled a little, but it faded quickly. “You did the right thing. For whatever that’s worth coming from the guy Udina would have loved to see you put a bullet in.”

“He wouldn’t have enjoyed it, Shepard. The real Udina, at least. Not whatever indoctrinated puppet he was at the end.”

Shepard raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Kaidan shook his head. “You two may not have seen eye to eye on anything, but he respected you. Most of the time. You wanted the same things. Just…had different ways of achieving them.”

Shepard huffed in distaste. “I didn’t hand Cerberus the keys to the Citadel.”

“But you did accept their help when it was convenient,” Kaidan pointed out, unable to keep some of the bitterness from slipping through. “Use them to accomplish your goals. The difference is that you won and he lost.”

Shepard was silent for several painful seconds. Still. When he finally spoke his voice almost sounded small. “Yeah. I guess I deserve that.”

Kaidan sighed. “You didn’t deserve it. I just.”

“You’re you,” Shepard replied, not unkindly.

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

My other WIP is a trilogy-spanning slow burn mShenko romance, which I am basically writing for one line that I will use when they finally hook up in ME3.

I am very much looking forward to that moment.

#mememe #writing meme #meme replies #thank you for the tag!!!#it's stupidly self-indulgent how much i like to talk about this shit

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wiredandrewired · 5 years

Text

Was trying to actually work on something but my brain is stuck on loop. So instead I’m gonna make a post of the Voltron stuff sitting unposted in my writing WIP folder to help me organize my thoughts.

I guess since I’m posting this, if you have anything you wanna say/ask about any of these feel free. I respond well to outside interest.

1. Project ReVolt is without a doubt the project I’ve posted about the most here. And talked about in random tags. And tangents. Originally it was just the name the project had in my internal brain filing cabinet but it’s kind of spread and stuck to where my wife and I just refer to it as that when we talk about it.

ReVolt is basically going to be a VLD series rewrite more along the lines of how my wife and I would have done it or at least liked to see it done. In some places it will probably stick pretty damn close to the events of the series canon, but in others go completely off the deep end. We’re each going to be doing one, so a lot of the headcanon and worldbuilding and such that we’ve worked out together in various other stories and RPs will be consistent between the two stories, but it will also give us a place to veer out and do things without the others’ input (as we’re not gonna let each other see our fics until they post, tee hee). I’ve done a SHITPOT of rules and infrastructure work using actual alchemy tracts to try and make sense of the series’ largely Powers As The Plot Demands system, and am pretty convinced I’m going to A)fall hard into my very common Esoterica Ranting Mode pitfall and B)enrage literally everyone who reads it with my character and plot choices. Most conservative estimate says this will be six ‘books’ long as again, we’re doing literally the entire series. Current status: at the ‘ridiculously large amount of notes and setting up actual arcs and outlines’ stage, and waiting for the wife to finish ‘Happier HOPEless’.

2. There Are No Monsters Here is a fic I really want to do but cannot seem to get off the ground, set to take place entirely in the ‘last universe’ from season 8--the one native-Honerva died in and crazed-death-god-Honerva picked out as her ideal and tried to wedge herself into. I guess the basic idea was that, like the ‘main’ universe, it got rebuilt pretty much as it was prior to Nightmare Mom Ruining Everything, and I have it with no one fully remembering the events of season 8 that took place there, but characters really closely tied to those events having some itching feeling that something happened, and all the Altean alchemists agreeing that some kind of massive quantum Event certainly occurred even if they don’t know what.

Mostly the story exists as a place for me to have a canon-compliant AU that still lets me explore stuff like Altean history, the racial and cultural tensions of the Coalition, dink around with Oldadins that DON’T die in one fell swoop, a living Daibazaal and Altea, Lotor growing up with a decent-but-not-without-strains relationship with his dad, teen Allura and tiny Lotor being absolute shits to each other while also coming to terms as they grow up with who and what they MUST be both on a political and quantum scale, and generally prove that even a perfect universe isn’t, all in one place. The title is entirely facetious, and anyone who’s read any of my alien culture headcanons for this series knows that. Lol. Current status: lots of bits and pieces, but no good beginning or connective tissue. I have a lot of notes, some arc outlines, and a few scattered scenes and bits of dialogue from later in the story, but my god, I CANNOT get it off the ground.

3. Someone Must Get Hurt (But It Won’t Be Me) is supposed to be a pretty wholly Honerva-centric fic that starts...sometime in her youth?...and carries forward to an as-yet-undetermined point. Probably her death. I mean the first one. I’m not sure. Another chance to dig my fingers into Altean culture and Alchemy, this time leading up to All The Bad Shit That Happened, with the added bonus of being done from a focal point of a character I have a lot of really strong feelings about both positive and negative that’s resulted in me somehow being EVEN MORE wrapped up in her than I was before I added abject knee-jerk trauma hatred to the mix. In no way meant to make Honerva more sympathetic, I think I just want to write her even more like my mother so I’ll feel EVEN BETTER about killing her? Idk man my feelings about her are so complicated. Also an excuse to write a shitpot of her and Zarkon because listen, I’m really glad they’re married because I ship them so fuckin hard. Current Status: SO many notes. SO much infrastructure. Like three pages of an opening I’m almost definitely throwing away because I can’t decide where, when, or how to open but feel like this isn’t it. One short but very telling scene of Honey and Zarkon from late in the story. I’m obsessed with it but I can’t get anywhere.

4. Currently Untitled Demon Hunter AU started because my wife talks to me about Happier HOPEless a LOT and I just got an itch in my bones to work on one myself. In spite of the entire Demon Hunter AU thing getting started by a prompt on a Shance blog, neither Shiro nor Lance are set to appear for at least a chapter? And I am not confident in my ability to not veer off into utter non-shipping anyway because man, am I bad at it. Or like...just an entirely different ship for either or both of them. Current Status: A lot of vague notes, a POWERFUL urge to structure the chapters and overall arc after Ripley’s Gates even though that limits my chapter count and means I will DEFINITELY have 20k+ word chapters, and about seven pages of the first chapter so I guess I’m committed now?

5. Currently Untitled Post Series Fic basically exists for me to vent my frustrations about two main things: The Universe is Fucking Huge And There Are Dangers Other Than Galra, and The Galra Empire Was Huge and Is Not Going To All Fall In Line Behind Voltron Coalition and Especially Behind Keith Who Just Arbitrarily Fucking Decided To Tell Them They Couldn't Pick A New Leader According To Their Own Traditions And Need To Do What They’re Told Now What The Fuck. Also there was a lot of stuff in the series that got left hanging, and while ReVolt is an IN-series fix-it fic, I wanted something that patched up loose ends in a way that was satisfactory to me but also kind of canon-compliant. Current Status: A lot of notes and screaming. No one has seen my progress on this and they might never.

6. Dog Runs And Death Dreams is a warmup file turned deeply self-indulgent series of scenes in which I choose to assume that Shiro’s rare neuromuscular disorder was left so ambiguous so I could plug the symptoms of mine into it. It’s genuinely not any deeper than that. The whole thing is set pre-Kerberos, and includes copious Shiro x Adam content because of it, but also not the kind that makes me feel good about writing because that means it includes the ‘slow fizzle’ that leads up to their breakup before the mission. Ugh. Working on it does make me feel better when I've been having symptoms, though, and I’ve been letting myself write it, unchastised, in a really loose rambly way that I usually deride myself for. It’s just cathartic. Current Status: no notes, no plan, just strain-writing between seizures, but somehow it feels like it has some kind of structure and just keeps growing? Possibly too close to the bone for me to ever post.

7. Birth and Rebirth was born out of two things: the fact that Zarkon is shown to have two ENTIRELY DIFFERENT reactions to first being presented with his baby son in different flashbacks and different seasons, and the fact that in spite of the flashbacks we get at the end of the series, earlier on, the impression I got of Lotor and Zarkon’s relationship wasn’t of a young man who had never had affection from his father, but who had instead lost it. Well, three things: I have a lot of underlying issues at work, at play, and at large when it comes to the Galra Imperial Family. Also, anyone notice the monitor blips in the first baby Lotor flashbacks indicate a heart murmur? Anyway, it was supposed to be a thoroughly self-indulgent and thoroughly self-hurtful examination of Lotor’s early life and the death by degrees of what was left of his father in the husk Rift Adventures left behind, but I got stuck on it a little way in. Current Progress: ten pages, a lot of notes, and some wistfulness. I keep hoping I’ll get inspired to pick it back up again. Contemplating rewriting some of the beginning, maybe it’ll help?

Bonus entry that is not actually in any form of progress soever:

50/50 Voltron Trashfire Edition is spawned from the ‘50/50′ challenge on an old TF board I used to haunt. It’s a fifty-prompt smut challenge using the list of ‘50 reasons to have sex’ from some tv show, and the idea is to write a different ship for every prompt (hence the name). My wife is blazing through it and has several (like twelve?) up on her AO3, but I’ll be utterly blunt: I haven’t written fifty porn fics in my LIFE. Over ALL my fandoms. Current Status: Literally all I have done is assign a ship to each prompt, and I might actually have some prompts with just question marks beside them still. I have one aborted start to one entry. That’s it. It’s not happening. But the empty file is technically in the folder, SO.

#things Rewire Writes #disregard I'm decompiling #writing woes #fanfiction: the struggle #the state of the rest of these makes me a little worried about Revolt tbh #I need to unclog the writing pen in my brain

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malgriff · 5 years

Text

Overwatch Lion King AU no one asked for (Wip) Chapter 7 - Recovery

“I’m telling you Roadie, My next plan is genius! We just need some..some...hey!” Junkrat grabbed his large companion’s shoulder and climbed up to pull his mask towards the beach. “I spy with my bloodshot eyes, some scavers muscling in on some prime scrap!”

“Hrmph.”

The slightly singed man put a hand above his eyes and narrowed them, leaning over his friend to get a better view. “Hey Roadie..the scrap’s...moving? Should we do something?”

The two looked at each other for a few moments, Roadhog gave the briefest of nods and Junkrat got excited and reached for a tyre only to have his hand slapped away. “The non boom one?” He whimpered. Another nod and he grumbled, reaching for the non explosive tyre out of the sidecar of their bike, parked beside them and lets the engine run before kicking it down the hill onto the beach and yelling at the top of his voice. “FIRE IN THE HOLE!”

The scavengers all looked behind them and started frantically tripping over each other to get out of the way, some diving into the irradiated waves, others running uphill away from the tyre making very concerned noises.

Junkrat was so busy cackling he fell off the wall he’d been sitting on, still laughing maniacally as Roadhog ambled down onto the sand towards the scrap heap. He stared down, his expression unseen behind the mask but he did tilt his head as though considering what to do. He dislodged a large piece of twisted metal panel and tossed it of of the rest, and froze.

After a few minutes Junkrat stumbled over.

“I think she’s alive.” Came a rumble from the inside of the mask.

“She?” Junkrat looked down and jumped, seeing the girl’s face turned to the side, splayed out on her back covered in quite badly dented armour, or half covered in armour, the breastplate was nowhere in sight and the grieves were missing. He leaned down and poked her cheek, making her flinch slightly but barely moved other than that. “What should we do wiv her? “

Roadhog was silent and looked at the sea for a moment then shook his head.

“I didn’t mean dispose of her, we’re not barbarians.” Junkrat put his hand on his chest which he puffed out trying to look gentlemanly. Roadhog just sighed. “Ok so maybe we are, but not today!” He grinned. “Sides it’d be bad manners.”

“Since when did you care about manne-”

“When there's ladies present! Damn roadie have you no heart?”

Silence.

“We’re keeping her. Never know, might come in handy.”

A heavy sigh came from Roadhog’s mask and he bent down and lifted Brigitte easily, even though she was heavier than he expected, with the armour and muscle. He considered tossing her over his shoulder but looking down at her now slightly sunburned face he thought better and held her with one arm under her knees, the other around her shoulders and began to follow Junkrat back to their bike.

____________________________________

It had been over two days, between the two of them they’d removed the armour and put it neatly (ish) on one of their makeshift shelves in the workshop, made up a bed made of tyres, old sacks and duvets, letting Brigitte sleep, while occasionally making sure she had water.

She finally began to stir on the second evening and sat up, holding her head in her hands.

“Oi Look who’s up!! Rise n Shine!” She looked as a very bedraggled looking man who just jumped onto the end of her bed and she let out a very cracked and dry scream, ending in a coughing fit and a long list of swedish curse words.

Junkrat yelped and fell backwards, not having expected that reaction and poked his head up from the end of the bed to check she wasn’t going to lash out.

Roadhog came to the rescue and put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up and her eyes went wide! It looked like she was about to scream again but he presented a small pink floral teacup filled with steaming hot black tea. “Sugar?”

There was an awkward quiet for at least a minute but Roadhog kept still and waited, Junkrat was looking between the two frantically waiting to see what would happen, half wanting to see that awful gaudy cup get smashed. No such luck.

“Ah n-no thank you. Uhm..” She took the cup and he let go of her, moving away and dragging a busted up sofa a little closer and sitting upon it with a heavy thud, bringing his own little teacup with him. Having to lift up the mask briefly to sip.

This was so surreal, Brigitte looked between the two as Junkrat joined Roadhog on the sofa, arms crossed. She took a sip of the tea, then another, and found it wasn’t too bad.

“Where..am I exactly?” She asked after a few minutes, and Junkrat piped up before Roadhog could.

“You’reeeeeee in Junkertown!” Roadhog nudged him with his elbow, making him nearly fall off the sofa. “I mean just outside Junkertown, on good ol Oz!”

“So is there a wizard or?” She asked with a small grin. Junkrat looked confused but Roadhog started laughing, making Junkrat stare at him.

“Wasso funny?!”

“Read a book Jamison.�� Came the garbled rumble from the gas mask.

“I must’ve been out for a while…” Brigitte looked into the half full teacup at her reflection, spotting the sunburn and wincing slightly. She finished her cup and put it to one side and looking at the two expectantly.

“Hmm.” Came Roadhog’s reply.

“Saw you on the beach, and Roadie here wanted to throw you back like an old fish but I was having none of it. So we brought you here and…” He paused and gave her a look, narrowing his eyes. “What are you doing way out here anyway? Not many outsiders make it down this far.”

Brigitte flinched for a moment, remembering what happened in flashes and pieces. “Doesn’t matter. I haven’t got anywhere else to go.”

The two men looked at one another, Junkrat shrugged not knowing what to say and Roadhog scratched at his head for a moment, leaving the decision to Junkrat.

“Wellllllllll, we got the room so you can crash with us. So what do you do lady?”

“Brigitte.”

“Gazuntite”

She smiled a little. “No no my name, is Brigitte. I’m a...an engineer, and medic.”

Junkrat’s eyes lit up. “Really?! Oh you’re gonna fit in alright!”

She couldn’t help but smile a little at that, looking between her rescuers.

“I want to repay you for helping me out, so if you have anything that needs fixing I’m sure I can get it up and running in no time. So, since you asked me, what do you guys do?”

The shared a look, both thinking the same thing ‘how much do we tell her?’

Junkrat answered again. “Well roadie here is a freedom fighter, I help, sort of. Liberating things for those in need. And he keeps me safe, mostly.” He clasped his hands and blinked a few times. She didn’t quite believe him but couldn’t help giggling at the animated twig of a man.

“So..” She points at Junkrat. “Robin hood and..” She points at Roadhog. “Little john?”

They all had a laugh at that, and Roadhog poured out more tea, though Junkrat made a face at his cup but drank anyway to make Roadie happy.

“Well, thank you for helping me out. I’m not sure what would’ve happened if you guys hadn’t found me.”

“You’d be sold for scrap pa- Ow!” Junkrat rubbed his shoulder where he just got punched. “Glad we could help Brigi..Bri..Brig.” She smiled at the nickname.

Another nudge from Roadhog and he glared up at the hog before realising what he wanted. “Oh Right right. My name’s Jamison Fawkes, but everyone calls me Junkrat. This here’s Mako, but we call him Roadhog, or Roadie for short.”

Brigitte nodded to each of them with a small “pleased to meet you.”

_________________________________________________

After another day or so recovering Brigitte got to familiarise herself with her new surroundings, not daring to venture out very far, and working on the bike they’d shown her. With the parts they brought in almost dailey she’d patched it and rebuilt parts, even building her own forge and workstation. The two were all too happy to watch or help her work.

Soon a routine was built with the three, They brought scrap and built things together, some stuff sold for a pretty penny, meaning they could get a hold of better scrap. Word got around and others came by for repairs or patching up when they lost digits or limbs. She had started to cover her Ironclad tattoo, after a few too many people asked about it and she couldn’t face telling them what it meant anymore.

They took trips into the city on occasion, with Junkrat’s ban lifted since he was behaving somewhat around their new housemate. As her reputation around Junkertown grew, the more people requested she take a look at their scrap bots and mechs, hoping it’d give them the edge in the ring. Brigitte obliged, Though she found the sport exciting it didn’t quite feel right.

After a year and a half, the group decided it might be a good idea to sign her up for the battles as well, and although it took some convincing she caved and built a scrap mech that, at first reminded her too much of reinhardt but she didn’t have the heart to scrap it. So she modified it to fit the town and made it look spikey and very much not crusader armour, then slimmed it down so she could move a bit faster inside it.

Her career started off a little rough, as she got used to the rules and learned the sort of techniques the junkers employed. That is cheap and dirty. She got better and soon became mostly undefeated over the next couple of years, in the singles matches anyway. Spending any time not battling in building training and being a sort of go to mechanic or medic for the population of Junkertown. More often than not though there were days or even weeks where things were much more relaxed and the gang just went for drives or walks, and getting into a little trouble here and there, though bRigitte wouldn’t let them do anything too crazy.

________________________________________

After a particularly busy day, Junkrat and Roadhog noticed Brigitte was not her usual self and was overworking herself. This happened a few times during her stay, enough for them to know they needed to distract her or risk an overtired and grumpy Brigitte. So they shut down the forge and pulled her with them into town for a treat of take out, and drinks. She’d gotten used to the lifestyle, even if she didn’t enjoy the alcohol all that much it took the edge off when she had bad days, though only if she had their company.

“So Brig.” Junkrat asked through mouth fulls of noodles. “What’s got ya down? Do we have to go kneecap an asshole for ya?”

She smiled but it faded quickly. “No nothing like that. Just, thinking that’s all. Bout home.”

Junkrat and Roadhog looked at each other once again and got another round of drinks. “Bout the thing we’re not supposed to talk about?” Junkrat ventured hesitantly.

“Yeah.”

Roadhog patted her shoulder in his own silent way of offering comfort. She appreciated it and patted his arm in return. “Hey I got an idea.” Junkrat piped up, spilling his lunch onto the bar, which got him a glare from the barman.

“Why don’t we go get you..some new ink?! So you match me and Roadie?! You been wiv us so long I shoulda brought it up sooner. What do you think?”

She thought about it, and honestly it would keep her mind occupied for a time, and it honestly felt nice to be part of a family, as strange and sudden as it was. She felt like these two were rather doting brothers. “Sure why not. Do I get a nickname to go with it?” She’d meant it as a joke but the look on Junkrat’s face seemed to take it as a real question.

He beamed and looked at Roadhog who nodded. “Welllll We’ve been thinking it over, and we’ve come up with a good name.” He cleared his throat and then proudly announced to the bar. “Ladies and Gentlemen! May I present! LIONFORGE!” A few people cheered but most of the bar were too into their drinks to respond, but Brigitte felt moved by the pride in the nickname.

So the morning after, and some heavy duty coffee, the three went back into town to the tattoo parlour that Junkrat and Roadhog got theirs done and helped Brigitte select the design she wanted. She sketched out a rough idea, or two and the burly looking tattoo artist nodded along and refined them a little. Most of the day was spent there, talking idly about goings on while Brigitte got her ink. The design was settled on an open roaring lion’s head with an old fashioned forge grate behind it’s teeth with flames becoming it’s mane surrounded it in a similar style to how she wore her hair. Once it was finished, cleaned and wrapped she loved it and thanked both Junkrat and Roadhog for taking the time to cheer her up and asked if they’d want to watch a scrap fight, on her. Of course they did.

The arena was packed, and while Brigitte took care not to bump her shoulder into anyone it slowed them down but they found some empty seats while Roadhog arrived a few minutes later with armfulls of popcorn and drinks for them all. Junkrat held the large barrel of popcorn on his lap so they could all reach and Roadhog handed Brigitte her drink and held onto his and Junkrat’s.

The first few rounds were for newbies and were over fairly quickly. Then the champions brought out their A game and the crowd was going nuts over it. People either ducked or held up buckets to catch flying scrap metal coming into the crowds from the fighting mechs below.

The queen herself was announcing and cheering on the competitors with more enthusiasm than normal, and leading the crowds in cheers and boos.

#Overwatch fanfic #brigitte lindholm #Hana song #Brigitte x dva #Lion king au

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