also i have a plan

anonymous asked:

I have an ED. I am also planning on marrying my boyfriend (once he has enough money we’re getting engaged). But I feel like I’m lying to him. I’m hiding this giant part of my life from him. I’m petrified to tell him about my ED, about how he’ll react, if he’ll be disgusted and leave or if he’ll feel like he’s burdened to take care of me. But I feel like I’m being weighed down by the thought of entering a marriage hiding something from him. What should I do?

How would you feel if he told you that HE has an ED? Would you be disgusted? Would you feel he is a burden? You wouldn’t, because you love him. And he loves you! You can’t keep this secret forever. Maybe have an optional cute lil fall picnic date, and talk to him about it

anonymous asked:

Can you write something where jay gets sick while they're (Elliot and him) chilling at his house and he was feeling fine all morning when they were together but now that it's nearing noon and him and Elliot are in his bed he's feeling nauseous and Elliot gets him water and crackers but it doesn't help and jay ends up really distressed because he doesn't want to be sick but he knows he's going to and eventually he ends up puking all his way to the bathroom ? Thanks!

Ooh, I love these detailed prompts, it makes me feel like people are imaging scenarios with my OCs which is so cool! Sorry for this being a bit slow as usual. This is a really busy time at school right now, but fall sports also just ended so I should hopefully have more time to write. My planned fic order keeps shifting around cause I want to space out the different characters, but unless I ever specifically say that I’m not going to write a prompt, know that I’ll definitely get to it :)

Also, this mentioned Jay’s house, so I set this in high school, but they are 18 in this fic if anyone is wondering. I’m personally not bothered by 16-17 year olds in sickfic but I know a few people are, so just letting you know

It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when Jay’s parents had stopped caring what Jay did in private, but whenever it was, Jay was infinitely grateful for it. In public, he was still supposed to be respectable, more of a status symbol than an actual human being. But when he was alone, he could basically do what he wanted when he wanted it. And what he wanted was nearly always spending time with Elliot.

It was just a little before noon, but they’d already been together for four hours. Elliot had come over around eight on the weak pretense of doing homework, but with only a few months left in senior year, even Jay could agree they had better things to do. The time had passed slowly and quickly as they sprawled out in Jay’s enormous bed, alternating between talking and making out and just lying there together doing nothing at all.

Jay didn’t want it to be anything but perfect, but a feeling was starting to creep up on him, masking even the warmth that Elliot brought with him. It had been easy enough to ignore at first, but it had crept up on him quickly, until every small motion sent a sick jolt through his stomach. He had curled in around himself slightly, but it wasn’t doing much to help. He didn’t want to be sick. Panic was starting to rise up in him too, even as he tried to push it down. That wasn’t helping either.

“What are you thinking?” Elliot asked, and as Jay turned his head to look at him, he realized he’d gone silent for a long time.

“Not much,” he replied tersely.

Elliot raised his eyebrows.

“You okay? You’re super quiet.”

“I’m fine,” Jay snapped instantly, which only made Elliot look more concerned. He didn’t want to say it out loud, at least not yet. That would make it real.

“Okay,” Elliot said after a moment. “Do you want to talk or no?”

Jay just shrugged, and his stomach churned. He closed his eyes and begged it to pass, but while the nausea had lessened slightly after a few seconds, it was still an insistent weight on him. His breathing was starting to speed up. That wasn’t a good sign. Jay shivered a little, and swallowed. Nothing. Nothing could control this.

“Jay?” Elliot prompted gently.

“I just…” Jay faltered, but when his stomach gave another small bubble his resolve was gone. “I don’t feel well.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” Elliot said. He pressed his lips to Jay’s forehead and drew them away with a frown. “You might be a little warm. Do you feel like you have a fever?”

“I don’t…it’s just…stomach,” Jay admitted. He pressed his lips together as he finished speaking, trying to push back the wave of nausea that swept over him. His head was too low to the ground. He sat up, but his stomach lurched as he did, and he hugged his knees to his chest, swallowing quickly to try and get things under control again. It didn’t work. Never did.

“I’m sorry,” Elliot said again. “Do you want me to tell your parents? Or just stay up here and do something else, maybe try to distract yourself? Or do you want to go to the bathroom?”

Jay shook his head, swallowing again. His mouth was filling with warm saliva faster than he could handle, and every breath threatened to make him gag on it.

“I just want it to stop,” he muttered.

Surprisingly, Elliot just nodded, seeming calm.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll bring you some stuff, and maybe that’ll make it go away.”

Jay didn’t watch Elliot get up and leave the room; he just closed his eyes again and doubled over, pressing his mouth against a pillow. There was even less air to be had there. His head swam and his stomach clenched fiercely. He shut his eyes tighter.


Jay felt Elliot’s warm hand on his shoulder and reluctantly lifted his head. Elliot smiled a little, and pointed at Jay’s nightstand, where he’d set a glass of water and a small plate of crackers.

“That might settle your stomach a little,” he suggested. “Want to try some?”

Jay reluctantly accepted the water and took a sip. At first, the cool liquid felt like a relief, but once he swallowed it, he could feel it travel all the way down his throat. He forced down a bit more as his stomach bubbled ominously, then put the glass down again.

“Not so good?” Elliot asked.

Jay didn’t want to say it. This had to work. But his stomach let out an audible gurgle and he was forced to just shake his head.

“Try the crackers, maybe?”

Putting anything more in his stomach was the last thing Jay wanted to do, but if there was a chance of it working, he had to. He took a small bite and it instantly turned into a thick mush that took several tries to get down. He managed the rest of the cracker, but it never seemed to get past the very top of his throat.

“Not working,” Jay got out. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry and sticky now. He reached for the water again and took a large sip without thinking. It bubbled all the way down his throat and set off a viscous lurch once it reached the bottom. Jay clamped his hand over his mouth.

“Sweetheart,” Elliot murmured sympathetically. He stroked a hand down Jay’s back and Jay uncovered his mouth again. “Maybe just give it another minute?”

Jay did his best to breathe normally for a few seconds, but he was cut off by a sharp hiccup. His throat wouldn’t close.

“Not working,” he repeated, more urgently.

“Well, maybe you just need to throw up.”

“No!” Jay shook his head vigorously as another hiccup slipped up, bringing the taste of acid into his mouth. “I can’t.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Elliot said softly.

“No, don’t,” Jay muttered. “I don’t want to get sick.”

“Do you think you’re not going to?”

“I—” Jay hiccupped forcefully again, and it turned into a small heave that he caught in his hand. Sick was climbing up his throat, and it was only a matter of time – probably minutes, or even seconds. He shuddered.

“Okay, come on,” Elliot said, his tone gentle but firm. “Let’s just get to the bathroom in case.”

Jay’s legs shook a little when he stood up, but Elliot’s arm around his waist quickly steadied him. Elliot led him into the wide hall, glancing around as he always did, as if he couldn’t quite believe how big Jay’s house really was. Now, Jay just would have given anything for a shorter walk ahead of him.

They were halfway to the bathroom when Jay’s shoulders lurched with another small heave, and he felt the wave of liquid rush up, pushing hard against his throat. He froze, mouth hanging open as he breathed shallowly over the floor.

“Let’s keep going,” Elliot said, and forced Jay to take another step forward. That was all it took. Jay hiccupped again, and a thick splatter of water and crackers hit the floor in front of him. He let out a dry gag, but his next retch quickly turned solid. A larger wave of vomit poured out as he doubled over, stomach still bubbling relentlessly.

“Oh, Jay, sweetie,” Elliot murmured. He stopped for a moment and rubbed a few circles on Jay’s back as his boyfriend heaved up another round of sick with a slight groan. He was showing no sign of stopping, and Elliot cringed a little at the growing pool of vomit on the floor.

“Hey, let’s get to the bathroom,” he said softly. Jay gave another gurgling heave, shuddering as another stream came up. When Elliot nudged him lightly, he finally started moving again, running as much as he could while keeping both arms wrapped protectively around his stomach.

He was nearly at the bathroom door when he stopped again, cheeks bulging out. He leaned over and let the thick wave of vomit spill out. Elliot hurried to his side, rubbing his back again and murmuring vague words of comfort. Jay looked miserable. His face was flushed and sweaty, and Elliot could hear the sick sound from his stomach that preceded the next heave. Jay spat out a large mouthful of watery puke, and a bit of it fell onto his shirt.

“You’re alright,” Elliot said softly. Jay’s next gag sounded awful, but it was mostly dry, so after a moment Elliot gave him another nudge. Jay finally managed to stagger to his knees in front of the toilet, shoulders still jerking back and forth. Elliot skirted the pool of vomit next to him and knelt at Jay’s side, stroking his hair. His stomach seemed to finally be empty, but he was still jolting forward with hiccups every few seconds, occasionally spitting a bit of bile into the bowl.

“Try to breathe,” Elliot murmured. Jay took in a shuddering breath before resting his head against the toilet lid.

“That was awful,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Elliot replied. “Do you feel any better?”

Jay shrugged, and his eyes slid closed. Elliot ran his hands through his boyfriend’s hair for a while longer, but eventually he stood up.

“Can I get you back to your room?” he asked. “I’m gonna go clean this up, but you should get some rest if you don’t think you’re gonna throw up again.”

Jay raised his head and scoffed.

“Don’t clean it. Someone will do that for us.”

“Oh, okay,” Elliot agreed. He felt a little bad making some housecleaner who didn’t even know Jay that well clean up the mess, but he was glad for the chance to stay with Jay too. “I should at least tell your parents then, right?”

“Ugh,” Jay groaned. “Later.”


“Just come back to my room with me?” Jay asked, and his brown eyes were just pleading enough that Elliot couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, and helped Jay get to his feet. “Let’s just get you to bed.”

anonymous asked:

briarlight still gets injured but instead of lazing about in the medicine den she gets taught how to fight and defend herself also longtail doenst die

haha don’t worry, I have something special planned for Briarlight!

anonymous asked:

I have an ED. I am also planning on marrying my boyfriend (once he has enough money we’re getting engaged). But I feel like I’m lying to him. I’m hiding this giant part of my life from him. I’m petrified to tell him about my ED, about how he’ll react, if he’ll be disgusted and leave or if he’ll feel like he’s burdened to take care of me. But I feel like I’m being weighed down by the thought of entering a marriage hiding something from him. What do I do?

There are several reasons why I think you should tell him: 

1. I highly doubt he will be ‘disgusted’ or leave you. Imagine if it was the other way around - would you feel disgusted if he had an eating disorder? I think he’d try to be supportive (but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’d feel burdened!). If recovery is something you want (I hope it is) then having someone supporting you will be a huge help. 

2. You’re being weighed down by this and it’s causing you unnecessary stress. That feeling won’t go away over time, you’ll just keep feeling more and more guilty about it. The best way to deal with that is to just be honest with him.  

3. He wants to marry you, so I’m assuming he loves you. A lot. And as someone who loves you and is about to commit to you for the rest of his life, he deserves to know about this thing that plays a big part in your life right now. Chances are he’s going to figure it out eventually anyway, especially if you’re married, so wouldn’t you rather be honest now instead of him finding out down the track and being upset that you hid it from him?

4. There’s a chance you’ll start pulling away or becoming more distant, whether you mean to or not, because you’re trying to hide this thing from him. Don’t do that to him. It’ll cause all sorts of issues in your relationship that you could avoid by just being honest. 

This is just my opinion, but I hope it gives you some things to think about! And most importantly, congratulations on your upcoming engagement! Xxx

anonymous asked:

AU in which Yuuri and Viktor are married and Yurio is their smol angry adopted son

Susan was never seen or heard from again.

draco later in the common room: get it, blaise? because potter’s hair is like a bird’s nest ಠ∀ಠ✧

blaise: *deep sigh*

The Kissing Booth

A SnowBaz fanfiction


Once a year, usually in the spring, Watford stages a carnival for the students.  It’s usually quite humble, mainly consisting of booths selling small magic trinkets, or snacks like cotton candy, sweets and other classic carnival fare.  There’s always the tiny petting zoo over near the Cloisters, and some years Watford even scrapes enough together to bring in a carousel.  Most of the booths are run by student volunteers, and though everything is by donation, all proceeds go to whichever charity the student body has voted on.

           I go every year, mostly for the caramel apples and sweet cider, but this is the first year I’ve been behind the scenes of the carnival and helped at a booth.

           In truth, I didn’t even sign up for it, but Agatha hadn’t had a break all day and needed some cotton candy of her own.

           I should have told her to find Penny, or Trixie or even Minty.  Anyone but me.

           It doesn’t take long for the word to spread that Simon Snow has taken over the Kissing Booth, and mortifyingly the line has doubled in length.  Mostly first or second-year girls, blushing and stammering or swaggering up to the counter with a pronounced sway in their step, with the odd boy interspersed through the line.

           It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me – that honour goes to the time in second year that Baz stumbled upon a spell that made my clothes slowly dissipate, garment by garment, in the middle of the dining hall – and after the first two or three quick, cold kisses I start to calm down, but I’m counting the minutes until Agatha comes back.  How she endured hours of this, I cannot comprehend.  That’s just Agatha, I guess.

           A redhead drops her donation into the tin and her eyes flit around, meeting me for only a split second at a time, her cheeks aflame.  I try to look as non-threatening as I can and lean forward enough that she can close the rest of the space.  She darts in with a kiss that’s no more than a peck before running over to a giggling pair of who must be her friends, a triumphant grin on her face. She must have been dared.  Poor girl.  I hope I wasn’t her first.

           “Well, well, well.”

           My stomach lurches at the cold drawl I know only too well.

           “What are you doing here, Baz?” I say in as civilized a tone as I can manage.

           He stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, his mouth in a twist that’s a bit too amused to be a sneer.  “When I heard that the Chosen One had taken over the Snogging Booth, I simply had to see it for myself.”

           “Well, now you’ve seen it, so now you can go.”

           “Saving the World of Mages one kiss at a time,” Baz murmurs with a chuckle.  “Not exactly what I was envisioning.”

           “I’m only covering for Agatha,” I retort, “she’ll be back in five minutes if you’re wanting her services.”

           He scoffs.  “I’d rather not snog your girlfriend, thank you very much.”

           “She’s not my – forget it,” I shake my head.  I’ve told him at least a dozen times, but it never stops him.

           “She must have been really desperate for a break to put you in charge,” Baz drawls on, his voice smooth like honey but with too much of a bite to be sweet.  “You’d think she’d at least pick someone attractive for the Kissing Booth.”

           It stings, but I don’t flinch.  “What, someone like you?” I spit back too fast.

           His eyebrows shoot up in delighted surprise as I realize my mistake.  “You flatter me, Snow,” he purrs, and I feel my cheeks heat up, but I furrow my brow tighter and hope it passes for anger.

           “Is there a reason you’re still here?” I growl as the burning spreads from my cheeks to my ears.  

           “As a matter of fact, there is,” Baz says, and his gray eyes look cool enough to staunch the flames at the tips of my ears, but the more I glare into them the more the fire rages.  “I’m here to torment you.”

           “Great, well you’ve done that.”

           “I wanted to see what you’d do.”  He leans on the edge of the counter, bringing his face far too close to mine for comfort. “What would the Mage’s Heir do if his nemesis showed up at the Kissing Booth?”

           “You can torment me any time,” I shoot back, “you’re holding up the line.”

           “Oh, yes, well,” he feigns conern, “I wouldn’t want to keep anyone from their kiss.”

           “Then go away.”

           His eyes narrow and he pretends to think.  “Mmm, no.  I don’t think so.”

           “Baz, I’m warning you.”

           “Terrifying,” he drones, “but this is too much fun.  Besides,” his eyebrow flickers up, “don’t you owe me a kiss?”

           I flash him a smirk of my own.  “Aw, Baz. If you were so desperate for a kiss, you could’ve just asked.”

           Baz, to his credit, doesn’t bat an eye.  “You think of that comeback yourself?”

           “There’s a fee, you know,” I ignore him, barely having to raise my voice above a murmur for him to hear me, he’s so close.  “You haven’t paid the fee, so I don’t owe you anything.”

           He doesn’t drop his eyes from mine, and the cool gray takes on the spark of a challenge.  Out of my periphery I see him reach into his pocket, and there’s the clatter of coins dropping into the tin.

           I should punch him.

           I should spit in his face.

           I wanted to see what you’d do.

           I take him by the lapels and crush his mouth under mine.

           He makes a muffled sound of shock.  To be fair, so do I, but mine is more angry than it is surprised.  I kiss him hard and rough, and it’s a bit of a juxtaposition because his mouth is oddly soft.  A face like his, you’d expect his lips to be made of marble, cold and unmoving, but he’s the farthest thing from unmoving.  I can’t tell if he’s struggling or if he’s kissing me back but his lips are so, so soft and I want to bruise them, mark them, bite them…

           I only stop when a series of wolf whistles reminds me that there are at least ten people watching us.

           Trying to salvage the illusion of control, I break away harshly, still gripping him by his collar.  The cocky smirk has dropped from his smooth features and now his face mirrors mine, a matching scowl, like I’ve crossed a dangerous line.  I probably have.

           “Was that what you wanted?” I growl.

           He doesn’t answer, just holds my gaze another few seconds before pushing back from the table, his lapels slipping out of my hands, and stalking away.


I don’t see Baz at the carnival after that, and I stay as long as the booths are open, perusing the same counters and feigning interest even after having looked through their contents three times.  I keep Penny company where she mans the popcorn booth, drizzling caramel over every few cartons, and I even get bored enough to hang around Agatha back at the Kissing Booth for a little while, until one too many patrons have asked if I’m available for service.  When she and Penny are freed we pet the goats at the petting zoo, the ones that Ebb has graciously volunteered for the event, and take a few spins on the carousel.  Only once the light has begun to fade and the signs are being lowered from their booths do the three of us part ways.  Even then, I offer to help Ebb get her goats back safely.

           Basically, I’m doing anything I can to put off going back to the room, but eventually I can’t avoid it any longer.  I’ve wandered the grounds enough times that the sun has properly disappeared behind the distant hills and I can barely see the ground in front of me. Even then I’m tempted to consider crazy alternatives like spending the night at Ebb’s place, but I’m pretty sure that would be against school rules anyway, and besides, I’ll have to face Baz eventually.  There’s no undoing what’s happened.

           When I finally trudge back into the room, he’s staring out the window at the moat, presumably trying to intimidate the merwolves, but he turns at the sound of the door.  His expression, though I don’t see it for long before I look away, is hard to read. Wide eyes and a furrowed brow, like he’s still mad at me for my stunt earlier, but there’s a bit of a questioning edge there, too.  Almost a where were you edge.

           Normally I have to start any type of conversation, but tonight he wastes no time. “What the hell was that, Snow?”

           There’s no question as to what he’s referring, and I can’t help but get angry again.  “Me? You’re the one who had to start something!”

           “Well, you didn’t have to react so drastically,” he mutters, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall by the window, the moonlight casting its glow on his skin and making him even paler than usual, almost transparent.  I half expect fangs to slide out from his lips for no reason and complete the picture.

           His soft, soft lips.

           “You were egging me on,” I seethe, the memory igniting the rage that I’d felt in the fractured moment before kissing him, “it’s your fault anything happened.”

           “Proud little hero,” Baz says with the slightest smirk, “can’t back down from a challenge.”

           “You know I can’t, not in front of people.”

           “Wouldn’t want them to think the Heir is a coward.”

           I feel like a balloon in me is swelling and deflating at once.  “But that’s just it, Baz,” I insist, anger momentarily aside.  “If they think I’m afraid, what reason do they have to hope?”

           He doesn’t answer right away, and for a second I think maybe he understands. I want so badly for him to understand.

           “No reason,” Baz eventually says, turning to look out the window again, “not with someone like you as the Chosen One.”

           I want to groan, to kick something, to shake him by the shoulders and make him look me in the eye and for once not fight me.  Have we ever in our lives made eye contact without there being some challenge between us?

           “Why did you have to get in that line?” I shake my head.  “There are so many other ways of tormenting me, lower-stakes ways.”

           “To be fair, I’ve already exhausted most of those,” Baz murmurs with a little shrug of his shoulders.

           “When have you ever been fair?”


           I’m tired of standing here at the door, so I kick off my shoes and sit down on my bed, trying not to think about how much closer I am to him now, still at the window, looking as vampiric as ever.  His gray eyes are positively silver in the moonlight, and the black of his hair looks silkier than ever, as if it’s soaking the rays directly into him. He almost glows.  I have to laugh a little, because more than once Baz has mockingly compared me, with my bronze curls and sky-blue eyes, to the sun, but he himself wears a halo of night.  If I am the sun, then Baz is most certainly the moon.  Distant, cold, mysterious, almost too pristine to touch.

           His gaze returns to me suddenly.  He raises an eyebrow in a wordless inquiry, and I realize I’ve been staring.

           “What exactly was it you expected me to do?”

           “At what point, Snow?” he gives a humourless laugh.  “You had more than one opportunity to react.”

           “When you paid the fee.”

           His tiny smile disappears.  “It doesn’t matter.”

           “It does.”

           “Drop it, Snow,” he says, the hardness returning to his eyes, and I know I’ve cornered him.  Drop it is Baz’s way of betraying himself, of saying there’s something that he doesn’t want to tell.

           “Was I supposed to kiss you?” I ask.  For some reason I have to know.


           “Then what?”

           “I don’t know, Snow, punch me.  Push me. Beat me to the ground.  Something.”

           My brow furrows in confusion.  “Wait. You wanted me to hit you?”

           He shrugs, more with his head than his shoulder.  “One of us has to get hurt, right?”

           I rise to my feet, and I’m face-to-face with him again, only his eyes are different this time.  Whereas at the booth he had betrayed no hint of doubt at our closeness, now there’s a flicker of something in the silver, something that feels a lot like the way my heart is racing in my chest, and it dawns on me.  He was putting on a show at the carnival, acting like nothing I could do would get to him, just as I had been.

           If they think I’m afraid, what reason do they have to hope?

           One of us has to get hurt, right?

           And suddenly it makes sense.

           There’s only a few inches between us, so it feels almost natural when I lean in and press the gentlest of kisses to his lips.

           He doesn’t kiss me back this time, but he doesn’t move away either.  “What was that for?” he asks when I draw back a second later.

           “You act like we’re so different,” I say wonderingly, “but we’re the same.”


           “What do you think we’d be if we didn’t have to fight each other?”

           I don’t miss the split second of longing in his eyes.  “Keep dreaming, Snow.”

           “Because I bet it would involve a lot more of this.”  I bring a hand up to his neck, my fingers instantly lost in the wavy tips of his hair and it’s exactly as soft as it looks bathed in moonlight.

           Baz closes his eyes like he has to collect himself.  “You’re the hero.  I’m the villain.  What more do I have to say?”

           “Fuck that,” I chuckle, “we both know that’s not true.  You’re a boy, and I’m a boy.  That’s all.”

           “Tell that to the rest of the world.”

           “I don’t care about the rest of the world,” I shake my head adamantly, “I want to know what you think.”    

           “About what?”

           “If there was no act, no reputation, no role to play,” I murmur, “if we were just two boys, what would you do?”

           Baz returns my gaze a moment, searching my eyes.    

           Then his lashes close and he’s kissing me, and my eyes drift shut again like I’m sighing in relief.

           I let my fingers tangle higher up in his hair while my other hand grips the front of his shirt like earlier, only without the anger of the afternoon.  He angles his head further and guides the kiss deeper, his hands gently gripping my waist and pulling me closer.  I melt against him, my mouth moving with his, my head swimming with his citrusy scent, and I can’t hold back the moan that escapes my throat when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth in a gentle tug. Suddenly I’m floating, weightless, and Baz gives a muffled sound of surprise when I press back a little harder.

           When we finally break apart, both of us gasping and dizzy, I immediately want more, want to line his neck with my mouth, want to feel his breath hitch when I reach the base of his throat, want to hear my name in his sigh.  Would he sigh Snow or Simon?  I want to know.

           “Please,” I whisper, dotting a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “can’t we just be two boys?”

           When I meet his eyes, they’re full of more longing than ever.

           In response, he kisses a soft, slow triangle pattern on my cheek, and I recognize the pattern of the three moles by my eye, and I can’t help but smile.

“We can try.”


I’ll report you to the Diamonds! All of you! You’ll all be shattered!


“You’re going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton. Sleep well.”

Watching your crush make That Face™ after he gets a shot (Never missing even one)

A little something for a fic I’m working on, once I finish the third chapter I’ll post it but for now all that exists of it currently is this.

I can’t say too much on what it’s gonna be about without spoiling but I can tell you this(keep in mind this is mostly set pre-all that universal domination shit)

Lance is actually one of the weapon testers at the Galran labs (He’s usually hopping between Altea and Daibazaal) The lab he’s in helps to create different prototypes of weapons powered by quintessence so he gets to try them out and pretty much gives advice on what they could do better with it.
Lance is pretty much Altea’s top sharpshooter, also having skills in stealth and one of their top strategists. (We need more BAMF!Lance okay, I’m tired I want my boy to be appreciated thank you very much) He’s also very charismatic and if there were bars for his charisma levels they’d be filled ok. He can pretty much smooth talk his way out of everything…almost.

Keith is one of Zarkon’s generals, hopping between missions in the system/on planet. On the rare times he gets a break he doesn’t have much to do so he just hangs around the lab watching the engineers and scientists do their thing. (Totally not there for that one cute Altean guy nopenopenope)

He has exceptional skill working and fighting with various blades and weapons of that nature. He’s one of their top pilots and fighters and leads his one unti (Even if he really doesn’t want to but they can mostly take care of themselves so there’s no babysitting involved)


who is he tho…