I’m Back!! And Also SBT Updated!

Titles. They’re the worst.

You know what the solution is? Use a Hozier lyric. Too much work? I made a generator that will summon one for you.

It works surprisingly well as a prompt generator, as well.

For those of you who want to see me screw around and be gay, I got a Tik Tok. Thanks to my lovely girlfriend 😍 my username is renylovestigger. Come watch me not do my homework and not write things and pretend to know what I'm doing...

🌜⭐Space Themed Asks ⭐🌛

Aoede: favourite music genre, artist and lyric?

Asteroid: thoughts on rocks and gems?

Aurora: do colours have meanings for you? what is your favourite colour and why?

Bestla: do you have a favourite norce god?

Comet: do you have any allergies?

Celestial: favourite celestial object?

Constellation: what is your zodiac sign and birthstone?

Eclipse: if you could give your younger self one piece of advice, what would it be?

Extra Terrestrial: do you believe in aliens?

Gravity: what makes you happy when you’re feeling down?

Light Year: if you could travel to one place in time, where would you go and why?

Lunar: favourite word for or way of describing the moon?

Meteor: what’s something your passionate about that makes you light up?

Milky Way: you’re one in a billion! who is one in a billion in your life?

Nebula: do you like clouds? cloud watching?

Nova: what’s something new you want to try?

Orbit: who are the closest people in your life?

Red Dwarf: do you think stars are cool!?

Phobos: something you are afraid off?

Satellite: what do you surround yourself with that brings you joy?

Solar: what is your favourite way to get cozy and warm?

Supernova: do you like hot weather?

Shooting Star: if you had one wish, what would you wish for?

Triton: planets have cores, what is at your core?

Yellow Dwarf: bright white or soft white lighting?

Zenith: look directly above you, what do you see?

Thank you again for your review and love, I'm so glad you're enjoying it!!! ❤️

just started reading "dying to live"

it's a sevika/vi fic. it's one of the best things i've ever read.

i kinda think it's moving just a bit too fast though, especially on the latest chapter. (11 i think?)

i wanted vi to keep being mad, angry, she deserves to feel angry.

but of course, i don't get to tell vi not to forgive. to hold grudges, etc. that's simply not her. she loves a lot. and thankfully this fic is giving her all the love she deserves.

it may give me the feeling of "second-hand vindication" if vi kept being angry (and i still think that she should), but she's nothing but a sweet angel. a sweet angel put into horrible situations.

anywhos, go on and read "dying to live" by @renywrites ! they've written one of the most tender, most loving, and at the same time sexiest, sevika/vi fics i've ever seen. this shit has hockey in it too, and vi + hockey always mixes really well.

This is a Moving Forward PSA for everyone using AO3. I am witnessing the results of a culture class and communication failure. Not a lack of communication, but a misunderstanding caused by changes in fandom culture.

Before fic tagging was common, fics weren’t tagged. You had a pairing, if applicable, an author’s note about genre or general content, and if they were feeling charitable, a vague content warning. There are even a few genres of fic where even vaguely tagging literally spoils the plot and impact (such as horror, psyche thriller, in which the likely content is implicit to the genre). As a result, there is a basic category tag that permits this, as a courtesy to “old-fashioned” writers.

“No Archive Warnings Apply” means the fic is PG13 at worst, probably fluff, totally safe.

“Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings” is the polar opposite. It’s a glaring Enter at Your Own Risk billboard. It means: a shitload of warnings apply but I ain’t telling because this story requires shock value. It’s very important to read the author’s notes for those fics because they might be using that older format from above.

But without the context of fandom culture that generated AO3, it’s understandably easy to conflate the two categories, given their similar wording.

Can someone explain to me why writing is so hard when I actually want to do it

Guess what!

Hey all! So I’ve decided to open commissions on one-shots! 

So the rules:

1. Try and keep the prompt in the 1000-2000 word range for me to write. A couple sentences for a prompt is great, just give me a general outline of what you want!

2. No weird kinks, please. I do nsfw for sure, but weird kinks... no thank you. Lightly kinky things are okay. I’ll let you know what I’m comfortable with.

How it works:

Send your prompt to my kofi with your $3 commission fee that’s required to buy/donate something on Ko-fi. Try and keep it short please! I work weekends and sporadically in the week, so I really don’t want elaborate plots that take me weeks to do. Also, I will not write anything for you without you paying up front.

However! If you do want an elaborate plot, then I ask that you pay $3 (a kofi) for each chapter you want. Message me on my other blog (@gravitationallychallengedrabbits) or comment here if you have a long plot and want to talk to me about it!

The fandoms I will do:

Hetalia, Voltron, She-Ra: Princesses of Power, Final Fantasy 15

The ships I’ll do:

Adashi, shance, sheith, klance, kidge, shidge, lance/romelle, shallura, shklance, usuk, fruk, spapru, spamano, gerita, catradora, catra/scorpia, mermista/seahawk, promptis, ignis/gladio. There may be more, just message me!

Be warned: I haven’t written for spop or FFXV yet, and it’s been years since I’ve written for Hetalia. 

I will also write something for your OCs if you give me a good enough description! I’m always open to experimenting with new characters.

I love you guys and look forward to this <3 

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Hello! I am back! I wrote a completely new Alternate Universe that... I don’t think it’s ever been done before. This is only part one of many.

So this is my baby. I love it dearly. Please enjoy with me.

If you don’t want to read the full thing here, you can find it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18105458

***

Why are there so many songs about rainbows And what’s on the other side — Rainbow Connection

As far as Lance was concerned, there was only one side to a rainbow.

At least, that was what he had been taught. You see, he’d grown up on the one side of the rainbow - the one with the light and the color and the beautiful arches stretching over the city, as far as the eye could see. He lived in a city with buildings made of crystal, made for light to refract off them and fill the world with color.

The people themselves were bathed in color - dressed in beautifully colored clothes that complimented their rich and luxurious skin tones, hair that caught the beautiful colors of their world and took it as their own. Their eyes were luminous and their smiles bright. It was as though whatever had created them had harnessed the sun and the colors of the rainbow it had made their home to write them into being.

They learned in school about how to take these colors and put them to use; how to harness the power they’d been gifted and use it to better the world around them. Lance had chosen blue. It was the sweetest of the colors, cool and refreshing. They used it on the bodies of water around them, purifying and healing with it. Many citizens who wielded blue became nurses or midwives or caretakers. They were sweet and gentle and curious beings.

This curiosity was both a blessing and a curse. It often got Lance into trouble as a child. When he got older, he sated his curiosities with the vast collection of books in the city library and archives. He also went on excursions past the city lines when it got to be too much, but nobody knew about those. Not even his best friends.

But after he’d read all of the books he could get his hands on, after he’d learned about the same things in a hundred different ways in a hundred different author’s words - Lance got bored again.

It wasn’t until one specific librarian had noticed him sulking in the stacks that he had been given one particular book.

This was the day Lance McClain’s life changed.

***

“You really shouldn’t do this, Lance.” Hunk hisses for the third time that afternoon.

“Yeah, you said that.” Lance rolls his eyes, looking over at the yellow wielder. Hunk was nervously folding Lance’s basket of unattended clean clothes. He tended to fuss when he was anxious.

“I think it’s cool.” Pidge pipes up from where she was lounging on his bed. The green wielder was scrolling through her datapad.

“We don’t even know if what that book said was true - it’s a hundred years old!” Hunk insists. “I’m almost certain that it’s just some elaborate plan to kidnap unsuspecting victims!”

Lance rolls his eyes, packing a water bottle into his backpack and zipping it closed. “And what if it is true?” He challenges. “If it’s true, then there’s a whole other world beyond the borders of our city! I want to see it.”

“Of all things, why did you have to be blue?” Hunk bemoans, folding a shirt a little too aggressively. Pidge snorts.

“I’ll be back before school tomorrow.” Lance huffs. “And remember - I’m sleeping over at your house, Hunk.” He winks. “Bye!”

“Please be careful!” Hunks calls after him as he slides out the window.

“Bring me pictures!” Pidge hollers after him.

Lance grins, slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading toward the setting sun.

***

There are rumors of a place far beyond our borders — a place devoid of light and color and beauty. I have only heard of it twice, in hushed conversations and fearful whispers behind closed doors. Those who know of it call it the Monochrome, or the other side of the Rainbow.

It is said to be a place where the evil are cast out, but there is no evidence of this. I have looked extensively into our justice system, and there is no sign of anyone ever coming close to sending people there. It would be considered inhumane in our leader’s eyes.

Although many people seem to be afraid of it, I have not heard of any threats or worrying behaviour from the Monochrome and its people. As the devout scientist and explorer I claim to be, it is my duty to not only find this place, but learn everything I can about it and its people.

Wish me luck.

— Dr. C. Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

As the light faded from the sky, drained from vivid golds and pinks and oranges and replaced with silver and gold and navy of the richest kind, Lance found himself venturing farther from the city than he had ever been before. It was thrilling, but he couldn’t decide if that was a good feeling or not. He knew his mother was going to kill him if she caught wind of what he was doing, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

He wasn’t paying much attention to the things around him. Or he didn’t until he realized that the colors of the sky were duller than they had been minutes ago. Upon closer inspection, he realizes that the color around him was fading. Muting itself. He looked down at his own skin, at his own clothes, and felt oddly out of place. He seemed a little too bright, a little too intense for this place.

Lance stops in a clearing in the trees, looking around. The ground drained from a muted green to a dull, drab grey. It bled into the trees, into the sky, into the land that stretched for miles before him. It doesn’t even occur to Lance to take the pictures Pidge wanted.

The color was gone, replaced with shades of grey and blacks and whites. Lance pulls out the journal he’d been given by the library, grinning and leafing through to the bookmark he’d left.

“The Monochrome.” He breathes, his fingers brushing over the yellowing pages.

“What are you doing here?”

The journal snaps shut between Lance’s hands and he jumps, whirling around to look at… a boy.

Well, not exactly a boy, he looked to be about Lance’s age. But that was where the resemblance stopped.

He was shorter than Lance, his arms crossed over his chest and his brow furrowed. His stance was defensive, his lips turned downward in a scowl. He looked angry, but that’s not why Lance found that he couldn’t breathe.

This boy was breathtaking in a way that Lance had never seen before. His skin was pale and unblemished, almost glowing in the dim moonlight. His hair was the color of ink, looping around his face in soft waves that brushed against sharp cheekbones.

Lance couldn’t quite make out the color of his eyes. He guessed they were some form of grey, because they were softer than the rest of his features, however wary and angry they were.

“Uh…” He chokes, after he remembers to breathe. What did he say to someone who looked so different yet also made Lance’s heart thump hard in his chest?

“What,” the boy repeats, stepping closer toward Lance. “Are you doing here?”

“I’m exploring.” Lance declares after he’d gathered his wits about him. “I read about this place in a book - I thought it wasn’t real! But, wow, look- it is! You’re real! Wait till Pidge hears about this, she’s gonna be so psyched! Can I take your picture?”

The Monochrome boy gives him an incredulous look, some of the defensiveness draining from his posture. “Excuse me?”

Lance grins, then extends a hand. “Hi, I’m Lance. I’m a big fan.”

His eyes flick from Lance’s hand to his face, uncertainty flickering across his face. He takes a step forward after a while, reaching forward and taking his hand.

The Monochrome boys touch is… well, normal. Lance wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting. Cold? Calluses, maybe? Anything but the soft, warm grip that slid into his own, shaking his hand firmly. It’s gone as soon as it had come.

“Uh… Keith. I’m Keith.” He - Keith - says, the wariness giving way to confused curiosity. “What… are you doing here?”

“Exploring.” He says, holding the journal aloft. “So you guys aren’t a myth. There’s more than one of you, right?”

The apprehension is back. Keith edges away, picking at the hem of his shirt. “Why do you wanna know?” He asks, his expression pinched. “You aren’t a spy, are you?”

“What?” He blinks, looking down at his vibrantly colored self. “No! Besides, if I was, I would be the worst spy in the world. I don’t fit in here at all.”

Keith relaxes again, smiling faintly. How Lance — or anyone, for that matter — could have thought these people were cold and threatening was beyond him. Keith had the nicest smile he’d ever seen.

“No,” the Monochrome boy concedes. “I guess you don’t.”

The two of them stand in awkward silence for a moment before Keith clears his throat. “Well. It was nice to meet you, Lance, but I should…”

“Can I come back?” Lance interrupts, blushing faintly. “I mean… I know it’s probably weird I’m here. But nobody knows you exist! Or… I don’t think that anyone does.”

Keith smiles faintly, tilting his head to the side. “Why are you so interested in my people?”

Lance thinks about this a moment, brushing his fingers over the old, leather bound book that had taken him this far and brought him to Keith. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d come, let alone why he was so interested. There was just something about Dr. Wimbleton-Smythe’s genuine curiosity that had resonated with Lance.

He wanted to prove that these people were worth knowing about. Nobody deserved to be a long-forgotten myth. Especially not when they still existed.

So he answers honestly. “I’m not sure yet. But I’d like to find out.”

This makes Keith give him a wide, crooked smile. Lance finds he’d like to document that smile. “Okay.” The Monochrome boy agrees. “You can come back.”

“Thank you.” Lance breathes. “I can’t- thank you. Tomorrow? Here?”

“Tomorrow,” Keith agrees, tucking his ebony hair behind his ear, a hint of that smile tugging at his lips. “Here.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Lance grins. “Bye, Keith.”

“Goodbye, Lance.”

***

I have reached the part where our two worlds collide. The color has faded, like something has sucked the vibrancy away from this stretch of land. At first I thought it may be sick, but upon closer inspection, the foliage seems to be in peak condition.

This is a phenomenon that I have never seen before, and I can only hope to meet someone from this land who may explain it to me. That said, I have decided to stay on the edge of this land, in case these people are as hostile as they have been proclaimed to be.

I am optimistic and hopeful toward the future of my research and adventures.

— Dr. C. Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

“Pics or it didn’t happen,” Pidge scoffs the next day at school, leaning back in her seat and munching on her sandwich. It was one of the rare times she wasn’t typing away at her screen.

“I told you,” Lance groans. “I forgot! Plus he didn’t seem like the type who would’ve wanted his picture taken. I was being respectful!”

“It was safe though, right?” Hunk worries, not even blinking when Pidge reaches over and takes a handful of his chips. “He didn’t seem… I dunno, aggressive?”

“What? No! No, he was… Well, I mean, he was worried at first. But he was nice!”

“Did he seriously not have any color?” Pidge leans forward, her hazel eyes intense. “Like - just black and white? Like one of those weird pictures they keep in the museums?”

“Weird… pictures? Museum?” Lance blinks.

Pidge nods, pulling back and giving him a bored look. “Yeah, like the ones nobody goes to anymore? They have this weird section with black and white pictures.”

Weird pictures. Weird black and white pictures. As far as he knew, the cameras here had never been black and white. Maybe… maybe-

“Pidge, I need you to take me to the museum. Right now.”

“Now?” She asks incredulously. “Right now? In the middle of lunch?”

“In the middle of school?” Hunk yelps.

“Yes!” Lance springs out of his chair, packing up his bag haphazardly. “Right now, I have to go!”

“This journal is making you crazy.” Hunk says warily. Pidge only heaves a frustrated sigh, grudgingly packing her own bags. “Fine. But if I fail chemistry, it’s all your fault.”

“I can live with that. Now come on!”

***

The museum desk clerk looked bored out of her mind when she gave them their passes. “The exhibit is that way.” She points, popping her gum and tossing her bright pink hair over her shoulder. “Have a wonderful day.”

“Come on!” Lance walks as fast as he could, his long legs eating up the ground under him and basically leaving his friends behind. Which seemed to be fine with them; they were going to explore other places of the near-empty museum.

Sure enough, the black and white exhibit was tiny, but it was there. And right before the hall, there was a massive portrait and a plaque that read; This Exhibit was Founded by the Research of Doctor Coran Wimbleton-Smythe.

The man was a regal, expressive creature, with wild orange hair and an impressive mustache. He had a wide smile, mirth and wisdom twinkling in his blue eyes. He looked like he had seen the world and found beauty in all of it. Even in the Monochrome.

A thrill runs through Lance. He wanted to be just like Dr. Wimbleton-Smythe.

With a reverent, hopeful breath, Lance walks into the room that had long since been forgotten and looked over.

The walls held big black and white pictures, full of life despite the colorlessness. Coran seemed to be in every single one of them, vibrant still despite the lack of pigment. He had his arm thrown around a beautiful woman in one, his head thrown back in laughter, a drink in one hand. The woman was grinning, staring off just past where the camera was aimed. The plaque on the bottom read Midsummer Festival, circa 20XX.

The next picture was of a family, drawn close together, arms around one another. The mother was cradling a baby. At first glance, they seemed somber, but Lance had seen that expression on Keith, and somehow he knew that these people simply took everything seriously.

The room was filled with similar pictures. There were weddings, celebrations, funerals, or simply people going about their day to day lives. Dr. Wimbleton-Smythe had taken these people and painted them in the same light as the ones from Rainbow City. They weren’t different at all.

***

The people here are more lovely than anyone I have ever seen in even that of my own home. I find their lack of color to be more appealing than that of my own people. Their beauty is not found surface deep, but instead found in the kind way they treat each other and the loyalty that holds their society together.

I have found that the people in my own home, while they may be derived from heavenly color themselves, are vain and condescending toward that which they do not understand. And, as such, I have found that they do not understand the people of Monochrome.

There is such a deeply rooted fear of the unknown in my people. It closes their minds and hearts, poisoning their reasoning and clouding their judgement. I wish they would only get to know the lovely people in these towns to love them just as dearly as I do.

Dr. C. Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

“There’s a museum exhibit with pictures of your people.”

Keith looks up, surprise writ on his face.

They were sitting under a tree, the only one standing on the in-between. Keith had suggested they do it, after Lance had revealed he’d brought snacks and the Monochrome boy had admitted to never having tried the things Lance had brought.

“There is?”

Lance nods, giving him a small smile. “It isn’t very big, but… It’s there. Dr. Wimbleton-Smythe instated it a really long time ago. I guess nobody has bothered to take it down.”

Keith blinks, then tilts his head to the side. “How do you know about him?”

“Oh!” Lance turns, pulling the journal out of his backpack. “The librarian gave this to me after I read all of the books in the library.”

Keith snorts. “You read all of the books in the library?”

Lance smiles sheepishly, turning to hand him the book. “Yeah. I was a pretty hyperactive kid. It was that or get into more trouble than it was worth.”

The Monochrome boy chuckles, shaking his head and looking down at the book. A bit of hair falls into his face, and Lance has the urge to push it away from his face. He’d always been an impulsive boy.

Keith looks up when Lance’s fingers brush over his cheek and ear, his eyes wide and his gaze slightly awed. For a moment, they stare at each other, unable or unwilling to break eye contact.

But then Lance pulls his hand back, a brilliant red blooming over his cheeks. “Sorry.” He says quietly, glancing away from Keith.

He only looks up when a thumb brushes over his cheek. Lance jolts, surprised, and turns to see Keith with that same awed expression. It occurs to him then that Keith had probably never seen color — or at least not color as vivid as this before. So he leans into the boy’s touch, letting him trace over the slowly fading blush.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” Keith whispers, looking up at Lance, his gaze troubled. Upon closer inspection, Lance realizes that his eyes are a muted purple, like some sort of smoky amethyst.

“Should I be scared?” Lance asks, just as quietly.

He gets a smile and a little shake of the head before Keith is pulling his hand away. Lance wants to pull him back, hold his hand there. But he doesn’t, instead watching as porcelain fingers brush over yellowed pages.

“I can’t read this.” He admits after a moment, looking up at Lance. “I don’t read this language.”

Lance laughs, taking it back. “Do you want me to read it to you?”

His heart flutters when he gets that crooked, happy grin for the second time. “Yes, please.”

***

I have fallen in love.

It isn’t with a woman, or a man, or anyone in between. No, I have fallen in love with this culture and harmony. These people feel like home. It hurts me to think that I have to go back to Rainbow City, but I also feel at peace with my decision.

The people who raised me need to know who these lovely, monochromatic people are. They need to hear from one of their own that these are not people who need to be feared, let alone casted out for the way they were created. I — we — owe it to this beautiful group of people to understand.

I have fallen in love. Irreversibly, irrevocably in love.

— Dr. C. Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

The sixth time Lance visits, Keith falls asleep against his chest.

Lance was reading to him, the sun still in the sky. Keith had settled under his arm to see the diagrams and sketches that filled the empty spots in the pages. Somewhere along the way, his eyes had grown heavy and he had fallen asleep against the boy from Rainbow City.

He hadn’t noticed, not at first. But when Keith stopped asking questions or making Lance pause a moment so he could study the sketches, he trailed off and looked down.

The Monochrome boy had his cheek pressed against Lance’s collarbone. His thick eyelashes brushed over his cheekbones, his lips parted as he breathes, soft and even. His hand was curled, his knuckles pressed against his cheek and holding on loosely to the sweatshirt Lance had thrown on.

He was lovely.

Lance could see where the Doctor had been coming from. Then again, he had seen it since the first time he’d bumped into Keith. And to think, before this journal, Lance hadn’t even known that someone as beautiful as the boy on his chest had existed.

He brushes a hand through inky locks, not daring to move an inch in case he disturbed Keith.

And after his foot fell asleep and the chill from the setting sun started to creep from the floor into his bones, Lance realized he might just be a little bit in love.

***

“My mom wants to meet you.”

Lance looks up from divvying out the fruit he’d brought, his eyes wide. “I… Excuse me?”

Keith looks away, rubbing his cheek in a gesture Lance had come to realize meant that Keith was being shy. “She… I’ve been talking about you, and… she wants to meet you.”

“You talk about me?” Lance squeaks, not quite able to compute. Keith talked about him! He could sing praises to the heavens, run a thousand laps around the city fountains, die happy in this exact moment.

And then he realized just what Keith had said, and his elation turns to slight fear.

“Your… mom wants to meet me.” He repeats, after Keith nudges him with a worried call of his name. He must’ve been unresponsive.

“Yes,” the Monochrome boy nods, biting his lip.

“When?” He asks, his voice faint.

“Um…” Keith smiles, shy. “Today? She said I could invite you to dinner. So.. want to come to dinner?”

Lance stares at him, his eyes wide. The silence drags for a long, terrible minute, before Keith pulls away, his face falling. “Unless you don’t want to, that’s okay- I get it. I’m- I’m me, and… that’s okay.”

“No!” Lance reaches over, taking his hands, shaking his head quickly. Oh, heavens, stars almighty, he was an idiot. “No. I’m sorry, I just- you caught me off guard. Of course I want to come to dinner. Thank you for inviting me.”

The Monochrome boy looks down at their hands, then back up at him, his smile hesitant. “Yeah?” He whispers, squeezing Lance’s fingers hopefully.

“Yeah.” Lance whispers back, taking a chance and leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to this beautiful boy’s flawless forehead.

***

Krolia Kogane was the single most terrifying woman on this side of the border, Lance had come to realize.

He and Keith had made the trek into town, past a few dozen curious faces and polite smiles (he was certain he’d be met with hostile stares and terrified mothers pulling their children away. That’s what Keith would have been greeted with). They’d walked through the town, right to what seemed to be the biggest house in the whole place.

Standing in the doorway was Krolia Kogane, cutting an imposing figure as her son lead a Rainbow City boy up to her and into her house. And now she was sitting across from him at their kitchen table, her gaze inscrutable.

“So,” she starts, and he snaps to attention. “Keith tells me you’ve been visiting him.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lance replies hastily, then clears his throat and adds, “He’s very nice.”

Krolia gives him the slightest of smiles. One of Keith’s smiles. “He is, isn’t he?” She looks toward the stairs, where Keith had disappeared to get one thing or another. She turns her gaze back to him, then sighs. “I don’t know what you know of our history, Lance, but the Rainbow folk haven’t exactly been the most friendly.”

“Yes, ma’am. I… I know a little of it.” Lance nods solemnly. He hesitates a minute, then lifts his gaze to hers. “I’m sorry.” He says softly. “I don’t want to hurt Keith in any way. I… I really like him.”

Keith’s mother studies him a moment, then smiles and sits back. “You look at him the way my husband used to look at me.”

And again that bright red blooms over his cheeks, warmth settling in his chest. He looks toward the stairs. “I really like him.” He says again.

The three of them spend the evening making traditional dishes and swapping stories. Tonight was the first night Lance heard Keith laugh without restraint and the first night he wanted to pull him close and kiss him.

At the end of the night, he gets that chance. They’re lingering on the border, standing in their perfect little in-between. Keith is stalling, dragging out their goodbyes with soft thank yous and his fingers twined around Lance’s.

When there’s a breath of silence, a moment with their eyes locked and the silence heavy around them, Lance leans forward.

Keith’s lips are soft and gentle, his breath stalling between them as his brain catches up with his body. His arms reach up, wrap around Lance’s neck. Lance puts a hand on the small of his back, pulling him against his chest and kissing him like it was the only thing in the world he wanted to do. Because, in all reality, it was.

They part with the promise to see eachother again the following night. And the one after that. And the one after that.

When Lance leaves, all the colors around him seems dull without Keith by his side.

***

“I think I’m in love with him.” Lance says one afternoon, when all of his friends are hanging out in his room.

Hunk looks up, surprise flickering over his face. Pidge’s typing stops.

“What?” His best friends echo, almost in sync with one another.

“You haven’t even known him that long,” Hunk protests.

“We haven’t even met the guy!” Pidge huffs.

Lance rolls over on his bed, blinking at them. “Do you want to meet him?” He asks.

That night, Lance asks Keith if he wants to meet them.

“Will they like me?” Keith asks, worried as he looks up at Lance. They’re curled up in Keith’s bed, back to their usual reading sessions (or, rather, Keith’s daily naptime before dinner).

“Of course they will.” Lance smiles, smoothing his hair down and kissing his forehead. “I like you. They’re bound to like you — we have similar interests.”

“Okay,” Keith concedes after a moment of long and hard thought, snuggling back in. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

***

It wasn’t going well. Keith was flighty and nervous the moment he saw that there was three of them. He flinched when Lance took his hand, apologizing softly when he sees the concern on the Rainbow Citizens face.

Hunk was anxious as all get out; he had done some research himself, but of course he hadn’t borrowed the journal from Lance. All of the feedback he got painted Keith — sweet, soft, beautiful Keith — out to be a cold hearted monster.

Pidge had her own suspicions. This was displayed after tense introductions when she leaned over to Hunk and murmured, “He looks like a ghost.”

They hadn’t seen it, but Lance had seen his Monochrome boy crumble. He had felt fingers tighten on his own, heard the soft exhale.

“Pidge,” Lance says, aghast. “He can hear you.”

She has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry.”

After an hour of agonizing small talk and mediating from Lance, he’d given up and told the group he was getting tired and that they should probably head home. But once they’d started off, he hung back.

Keith holds it together for a few minutes after they’re out of sight. But then his lip starts to tremble and his fingers twitch.

“Oh, Keith,” Lance breathes, pulling him against his chest, just in time to catch a weak sob against his shirt.

“I’m sorry.” He gasps wetly. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. It isn’t your fault. You haven’t done anything wrong. I forgot… just how much my society has been taught to pretend yours doesn’t exist.”

He feels Keith try to form words, and he feels his heart break when all he comes up with is another sob. So he holds him, until the tears are dried and he can kiss those trembling lips.

“I want to take you to my parents.” He whispers, stroking his cheek, brushing away the tears. Keith looks up at him, smoky eyes wide and dewy. “I want to show the world — my world — just how much I love you.”

“You do?” Keith asks, and smiles.

“I do.” He tilts his head up, pressing his lips against his forehead and lingering there.

“Tomorrow?” Keith whispers.

Lance smiles against his skin and nods. Tomorrow.

***

A life well spent is, in my eyes, one spent devoted to easing the suffering of others. I believe I have had a good life. A wonderful life, even. Though I was unable to change the minds of many people, those who listened made a great difference, and I hope that one day, it may change this world for the better.

My life as I have known is nearly over. My bones are fragile, my health even more so. The rest of my life may be spent in a bed, but I am surrounded by loved ones and filled with happiness.

I hope that you, my dear reader, have gained something from listening to the ramblings of an old man. I hope that your life is filled with as much wonder and beauty as I was able to find. I wish you well, in your studies and your happiness.

Dr. Coran Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

The walk through town stops many people, gathers much attention, earns stares and murmurs from people who happened upon them. But Lance walked proudly, Keith at his side. And Keith was glowing, hardly paying attention to the people around him as he took in all of the color with childish wonderment.

“It’s so beautiful,” He had said in hushed tones the moment they entered the city.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Lance had answered.

Now they were stepping into his house, into Lance’s life. With his many brothers and sisters, with his mother cooking dinner at the stove, with the house full of the memories he’d carried with him for his entire life.

“Lance! Where have you been? I need you to come help with dinner, Veronica is-” His mother rounds the corner, then stops, her eyes falling on Keith.

Lance steps forward, Keith’s hand in his. “Mom,” He says, with a voice that promised them both an eternity of tomorrows and an abundance of love. “This is Keith.”

Worth The Risk

Hello everyone! Sorry I’ve been MIA, it’s been a long couple of weeks, and they’re just about to get longer. Pray for me. Here’s the last part of my Children of the Sea series, I hope you like it!

(I may add to this, I’m thinking about opening commissions for Christmas, so if you like this and want more, let me know!)

*

Lance had fucked up. He had royally fucked up.

After he had been rescued by a panicky fisherman neighbor and taken back home, fussed over by his mother and put to bed, he realized just how big of a mistake he had made. In his cold medicine induced haze, he had realized that the siren had talked to him. Okay, so maybe it had been telepathic, but it still counted!

God, and his voice had been lovely. Soft and crooning, curling around the corners of his mind delicately, like he was afraid his words, his presence in his mind, might scare Lance off.

The poor thing had been scared, he realises, for Lance. And after his outburst, because of Lance. And… he had yelled at the creature for things beyond his control. It was likely he was never going to see him again. If anyone had yelled at him for doing his best to help, the Cuban certainly wouldn’t want anything to do with them, not to mention the amount of damage his pride would take.

With a groan, Lance rolls over onto his side, pulling the pillow over his head. He was going to have to fix this, and fast.

*

Keith didn’t go back to the surface, even after the storm had calmed. Shiro had been waiting with baited breath for his little brother to escape the minute the waters had evened out and returned to normal, ready to drag him back by his tailfin if need be. But… it didn’t happen.

In fact, the little siren was more subdued and quiet than he had been since Shiro had taken him in all those years ago. He stuck close to his brother or Pidge’s side, never daring to stray outside of the territory lines. He hardly spoke, hardly ate, hardly took interest in play fighting or teasing his brother. It was worrying. Shiro was very worried.

Keith, he tries one afternoon. Do you want to go to the surface and try to help me find your human? It was his only hope. As much as he hated how happy this human made his brother, he couldn’t bear seeing him like this any longer.

Can we? His little brother gives him a surprised look, his fins flaring with interest. They droop after a little while, his expression falling with them. No, he shakes his head, he doesn’t want to see me. He doesn’t like me.

I’m sure that isn’t true, Shiro offers, but he wasn’t absolutely sure. Keith’s expression told him that this was clear on his own face, his amethyst eyes wide and sad.

It is. Red scales flick nervously, his injured tailfin lagging just a bit more than the others.

And you’re absolutely certain of this? His older brother gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. It seems to work; Keith falters, glancing up at the distant surface.

No…

Well, then. Why don’t we go see if it is? Shiro offers him his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Keith takes it.

Some small part of him hoped Lance was waiting. But another part was making doubt curl unpleasantly in his belly, reminding him of the harsh words and even harsher look he’d been given.

*

Nobody was there.

Shiro had set him in one of the shallow tide pools just shy of the shore, close enough where Lance would be able to see him and far enough away for Shiro to be able to pull him to safety. His brother was lingering in the shallows, waiting and watching, out of sight.

But… he wasn’t here. Keith waits, and waits, and… waits. He waits until the sun sets and the salt has crusted over his scales, until the tides are coming in and he blames the spray of the foam for the water on his face. He wasn’t crying. He… wouldn’t cry over a human. Not again, anyways.

The little siren was crying, though. It started slow, just a little prick of tears that could’ve been caused by a number of things. But as more time passes and nobody shows up, his mind starts replaying the storm and everything in it. Watching Lance get thrown from the boat. Dragging him through the water to safety, begging and praying to Poseidon that this human would live, that he would spare this one human.

It isn’t long before he’s crying in earnest, pressing his webbed fingers to his face to stifle his quiet sobs, his gills flaring in confusion as he hiccups for breath. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had he come back? He obviously wasn’t wanted.

He stays there, crying quietly and feeling terribly pathetic. What kind of siren sheds tears over a human, his mind scoffs. Not any proper ones.

Keith doesn’t even notice he’s not alone before someone sloshes the water next to him and gasps a soft, “You came back?”

He jumps with a soft shriek of surprise, recoiling when his human crouches down next to him, his blue eyes wide and lovely and beautiful.

Lance sits there for a moment, stunned and flooded with relief and happiness. “I can’t believe… you came back! It’s really you, isn’t it? I’m so sorry,” He reaches over, cupping Keith’s cheeks, his eyes searching Keith’s own. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things.”

The siren’s wide purple eyes watch him a moment before he sags, nuzzling into Lance’s palm, closing his eyes. You didn’t mean it?

“No, no, of course I didn’t mean it. Oh, baby…” A thumb brushes under Keith’s eye, Lance’s voice cracking. “Were you crying? I’m so sorry…”

The human shuffles into the tide pool, clothes be damned, and scoops the siren into his lap. He whispers apologies in a language Keith doesn’t understand, rocking him and holding him close. It was everything he had hoped for and dreamt about.

His tears dry, his anxious nerves soothes by the soft words from his human, the hand brushing lovingly against his scales, cradling him close like he was something precious. Like something that was meant to be cared for.

He tilts his chin up once he was calmed, looking up at his human, bathed in the soft golden glow of the setting sun. He was breathtaking. Keith reaches up, brushing his fingertips over his cheekbones and smiling faintly when his thick eyelashes flicker, blue irises flicking to amethyst.

The little siren realizes almost immediately that he was in love. Oh, was he in love. Wasn’t that a scary thought? A siren in love with a mortal. He’d been taught all his life that it was a terrible idea to consort with them, that they would take things to keep for themselves. He knew now what they meant by that - but Keith had given his heart to this human.

I don’t know your name, he blinks.

The Cuban laughs. “I don’t know yours, either. I’m Lance.”

Keith, the siren offers shyly.

“Keith,” His human - Lance - repeats, causing a shiver to run up his spine at the slow way it rolled over his tongue. “That’s a beautiful name. It suits you.”

Thank you. He blushes, biting his lip with sharp little teeth, weighing the next words he wanted to say. Can… Would it be okay if… May I kiss you?

Lance blinks, his cheeks heating and turning a shade darker. “I, uh- Yeah! Yes. You may. Please.”

The siren lets out an amused little chirrup, tipping his chin up. Lance smiles, flustered, and leans down, connecting their lips in a soft kiss. It was the best kiss either had ever experienced - and this was only the little siren’s first.

It wasn’t hard to decide that he wanted this human - tides, it wouldn’t be hard for anyone to decide to want this human. But there was an art to keeping one, and Keith had every intention to do just that. So as the sun set and as Lance kissed him until his lips were red and tender and his face matched, Keith was glad for all of this.

Maybe it was silly of them, to fall in love even with how different they were. But once you’re in love, it’s hard to simply walk - or in Keith’s case, swim - out of it. Besides, who would want to give up something as lovely as this?

Yes, Keith thinks to himself, around the third time Lance pulls him back into a devastatingly gentle kiss, remembering all the times he’d been lectured on the dangers of humans and snuck out to see them anyways. This was definitely worth the risk.

Kickstarter

Plague Pride: LGBTQ+ Enamel Pins

Pride enamel pins with the theme of plague doctors.

My friend has made really neat little pride pins! So far I'm the only backer and I don't know a lot of people to share this with. If you have the time/money to snag a pin or share the kickstarter it would mean a lot!