*kicks down the door* ok i’m tired of not seeing any Coran appreciation posts so here we go
-is a big enthusiastic goofball which is honestly really nice because having someone so humorous and cheerful and upbeat on the team helps the others relax while under the incredible pressure of fighting an intergalactic war
-like honestly, if Coran wasn’t around i feel like everyone would be 15x times more stressed out
-puts everyone’s needs before his own, is honestly the true team mom
*lets the paladins take breaks during their training, makes the paladins food (and while his cooking isn’t the best in the paladins’ opinion, it’s the thought that counts)
*fusses over Allura after her healing the Balmera
*comforts Lance when the homesickness strikes
*tends to the castle by cleaning, repairing, rebooting systems, etc. have you guys seen how big that castle is?? jfc Coran. please help him
*is very mindful of how to properly extract Balmeran crystals. he and Hunk were in a rush to get the crystal back to the castle and help Lance (who was /dying/) and he still performed the ceremony anyways!
-he’s had like no time at all to grieve for everything that he’s lost, he’s hardly lost his composure over the course of season one. he’s doing his best to be strong for everyone, especially Allura. please give him a hug :(
-he’s so smart and full of so many neat facts? please tell me more about Altaen culture Coran
-is often times left alone on the ship to pilot it when Allura goes down to join the paladins on missions. poor guy must be so lonely all by himself?? do you think he worries about something happening to the rest of the team? i know i would.
-on top of all this he’s a total badass????
get fucking dunked on. Coran effectively deflects Keith’s food goo attack and returns fire, hitting all of them at once in one swift motion. imagine if that wasn’t food goo, what if it was something actually deadly?? good fucking bye enemies don’t mess with the space butler
“what’s that? you want me to land so you can board my ship?”
he’s so cool?????
BODY ONCE TOLD ME
“CORAN ATTACK! I’VE WAITED 10,000 YEARS FOR THIS!”
“yeah don’t mind me just gonna face an entire galra fleet while the paladins get Allura no biggie :)”
in conclusion: Coran deserves way more appreciation & recognition in the fandom! he’s so awesome!! don’t just write him off as a side character when he’s done so much for the team. he’s like the backbone to Team Voltron!
(Have two extra bits from the next few chapters that never got finished, to complete the set.)
“If you’re doing this,” Shuuhei
says, crouched at the lip of the pit and watching the Kurosaki boy struggle, “I
At his side, Urahara blinks at
him from underneath the shadow of his hat. “Oh?” he says after a moment, his
tone as close to bewilderment as it ever comes. “Kurosaki—”
“Is untrained, unfamiliar with
the Seireitei, emotionally invested in this matter but unused to separating
himself from his feelings, and fifteen.
Even if you and Yoruichi are right, and those friends of his finish their
training, I’m not storming Soul Society with a couple of teenagers as my only allies.”
Urahara flicks his fan
reprovingly at him. “So pessimistic, Shuuhei-kun! If things go according to
Shuuhei cuts him off with a
snort, because honestly. And the shopkeeper accuses him of being naïve. “When has anything regarding Aizen ever gone according to plan? I’d rather
go in there loaded for bear than putting all my faith in our ability to stay
under the radar. You were there for the disaster with the Menos, weren’t you?
If Kurosaki wasn’t on Aizen’s radar before that, he sure as hell is now.”
Just for a moment, the
ever-present humor and cheer fade away, and leave behind a tired, worn man.
Urahara frowns deeply, staring into the pit where Ichigo is still fighting,
still so far from giving up, and Shuuhei can see the indecision weighing on
him. Shuuhei’s talked to Shinji, to Urahara, to Yoruichi—together and
separately—and he’s well aware that they all blame themselves. For not seeing
Aizen, for not being able to stop him in time, for the end results where there
was honestly no other choice. As an outsider looking in, Shuuhei knows he has
it easy, the benefit of hindsight with the emotional distance of not having
been a victim himself, and he’s more than prepared to play that card if Urahara
forces him to.
Somehow, looking at the man’s
worn, weary face, Shuuhei doesn’t think he will.
“It’s been a hundred years,” he
says softly, though he doesn’t soften his words at all. It’s never been his
way. “You know that better than I do. But this whole setup will work in our
favor. Send Kurosaki and his friends, that’s fine. But let me go, too. Use them
as a distraction while I clean up whatever crawls out from under its rock.”
For the first time in several
hours, the shopkeeper pulls the entirety of his attention from the
orange-haired boy below, and looks at Shuuhei squarely. He studies the former
lieutenant, carefully, closely, and settles back on his heels without saying a
Shuuhei meets his gaze, holds
it. His confidence isn’t all bravado, either. Maybe Aizen has had a hundred
years to plot and plan, but Shuuhei has managed to throw him for a loop once
already. Shiba Kaien’s continued survival was in no way a part of Aizen’s
schemes, but it happened regardless, and Shuuhei emerged from the incident
without being identified and compromised, regardless of how close it was. He’s
not the same green soldier who ran from Soul Society and disappeared into the
darkness of the human world, seeking answers with only his convictions to guide
him. He’s a fighter, just like he’s always been. A survivor. He and Kazeshini
have had fifty years to work things out between them, and it shows.
“Not alone,” Urahara says at
length, still unnervingly serious, but there’s a spark of something satisfied
and entirely too amused beneath the solemnity. “I have to stay here to maintain
the Senkaimon, and Tessai is required to help me. Yoruichi will be with
Kurosaki’s group. I see few choices, Shuuhei-kun.”
He’s clearly fishing. Shuuhei
snorts softly, dropping his gaze back to the pit. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up,” he
mutters. “Desperate times and all that. You’re still wrong, by the way.”
Urahara chuckles and flutters
his fan in front of his face. It’s not quite I told you so, but it sure as hell feels like it.
Shuuhei resists the urge to
shove him into the pit. It likely won’t end well for him, with how wily a
bastard the shopkeeper is. A good four decades have taught Shuuhei that much at
“Come. This is the door to Soul
Society, the Senkaimon.”
Ichigo isn’t a fool, no matter
what people seem to think. He’s just about had it with the stupid creepy
shopkeeper not explaining anything, shoving him—all of them, now—into dangerous
and likely deadly situations with little to no warning. Urahara is suspicious.
This whole freaking situation is suspicious.
But there’s no other choice if
they’re going to save Rukia, so Ichigo listens to the explanations, accepts the
risk of getting caught forever in the Dangai. Not that much of a risk. All they
have to do is avoid getting caught. And they will.
But then, a moment before
Yoruichi escorts them into the Senkaimon, Urahara steps forward again,
fluttering that maddening, ridiculous fan in front of his face.
“A moment, if you would,
Yoruichi,” he calls lightly. “We’re still waiting for one more.”
Even Yoruichi looks slightly
taken aback by that, pausing to blink at the man. “Kisuke?” comes the warning
The shopkeeper just laughs. “Oh,
no, no, it’s nothing bad! Just a…stray dog to help you sniff out the right
path. He’s given me his word he’ll get you into the Seireitei safely, so do
have a bit of faith in him.”
“Stray dog?” Yoruichi repeats,
ears going back and lips curling just slightly. “Kisuke, that brat—”
“Oi. I can hear you.”
Ichigo turns at the sound of the
unfamiliar voice, eyes narrowing as he takes in the dark figure crossing the
rocky ground. He’s Ichigo’s height and of a similar build, lean and muscular,
dressed in dark jeans and a coat with the sleeves ripped off, leaving his arms
bare except for a pair of black bands. A deep hood obscures his face, the dark
green cloth casting shadows impossible to see through, but there’s a katana
with an eight-sided tsuba slung diagonally across his back.
Dangerous, Ichigo thinks, watching him move, steady and surefooted
over the rocks. There’s no hesitation in his movements, everything precise and
calculated—almost the way Ishida moves, only…more so.
“So?” Yoruichi retorts, fur
bristling ever so slightly. “Who
exactly thought it would be a good idea to bring you along, brat? I don’t need
“What I want is justice, Shihoin, and nothing less than
that. Revenge is for the weak-minded who are unable to let go. I am not one of
The cat’s tail lashes angrily.
“Last time you were in Soul Society, you almost blew our cover.”
The man snorts, making a
dismissive gesture. The four silver rings on his left hand catch the light
almost menacingly. “And saved a man’s life in the process. Are you going to
complain about that, too?”
“Enough, enough, you two,”
Urahara cuts in, looking like he’s enjoying himself far too much for Ichigo’s
tastes. “My, listening to that, one might think you really were a stray dog and
an alley cat about to have at it. How…barbaric~.”
“Alley cat, Kisuke?” Yoruichi growls.
“I’ve told you not to call me a dog,” the stranger adds sharply. With a
huff, he looks around the ragtag group of humans, and Ichigo can feel it when
that unseen gaze settles on him. There’s a long pause, and the man inclines his
head just slightly. “I am Hisagi. It’s good to see you looking better,
Ichigo stiffens. There’s only
one incident the man could be talking about, after all. “You were watching?”
“I saw you afterward,” Hisagi
corrects. “I was the one who carried you back to the shop.”
Upon further reflection, that
makes perfect sense, as Urahara is hardly the type to lug someone around when
there’s conveniently free labor to do it for him. Ichigo nods in understanding,
and Hisagi inclines his head in return before glancing over towards the gate.
There’s a long moment, and then the man sighs in clear frustration.
“Urahara,” he growls.
The shopkeeper flutters his fan
innocently. “Yes, Shuuhei-kun?”
Another noise of exasperation
and the man reaches up into the confines of his hood, one lean, tanned hand
emerging with a black monarch butterfly perched on it. Ichigo recognizes it,
after a moment, as the same type that followed Rukia, Rukia’s brother, and the
hot-tempered redhead into the shoji doors when they left that night. Clearly
making a point, Hisagi waves it under Urahara’s nose.
“Oh, poo,” Urahara huffs,
reaching out to snag Hisagi’s wrist and push it—and the butterfly—back towards
him. “Don’t be a spoilsport, Shuuhei-kun. This is much more fun, don’t you think?
And besides, this way there’s no risk that that creepy little friend of yours
in the Twelfth will pick up on any unauthorized Senkaimon activity.”
That earns him a snort, but the
butterfly goes back in the man’s hood. “You say that like you have any right at
all to be calling other people creepy,” Hisagi retorts, but heads for the
Ichigo doesn’t hesitate to
follow, fighting a grin. He has a feeling he and Hisagi are going to get along