Shitty knows way too much about housing codes and property law. He initially learned property law to save the Haus from being condemned, but then he realized that reading archaic, flowery law opinions while high was the most fucking hilarious thing ever. Everyone at his law school is confused by and a little afraid of Mr. B. Knight, because while no one else wants to touch all those old, mostly nonsensical British common law cases, Shitty eats that shit up
“What you do has no point.”
Lance just bites his lip to stop the tears from being released.
“What do you want me to say?” Keith growls.
He’s shaking and when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out.
“You know what? If you having nothing to say the you should keep your mouth shut.
Lance isn’t sure how much longer he can ignore the hateful words. He knows it’s not at him. Everyone’s has been on edge since Shiro’s disappearance, but he’s pretty sure that Keith has been directing all his anger at him.
At first Lance tried to be funny, keep his usual persona going…somebody had to keep the team normalcy going.
Sure it hurt a little, but Lance pretended it was part of his training regimen. Sometimes you have to take a few hits and it hurts. Keith’s hit were just verbal, and like training, sometimes the hits hurt, but the pain would go away…right?
“Keith… I know your mad cause this trail was another dead end…”
“Shut the Fuck up.”
“We’re going to find Shiro, it’s okay that…
“Shut the Fuck up.”
“Keith if you would just listen..!”
There is a red rage in Keith’s eyes.
“I said Shut the Fuck up! You know what? Do whatever the Fuck you want, you can do whatever the fuck you want.”
“Keith, hear me out…”
He was returned with silence.
It didn’t make any sense, and Lance knew he was just angry, but the silence hurt more than the words.
“Keith, please listen to me. Tell me you can hear me.”
The silence definitely hurt more than the words.
The worst part about this mission, there was no Hunk or Coran to lightened the blow. They had both been so positive that they found where Shiro was held captive that they were going to do this on their own, which made Keith that much more angry.
Keeping his distance, Lance and blue followed Keith and red back to the castle.
The others were waiting expectantly but when Keith threw his helmet to the ground and stormed past the other Paladins, it didn’t take them long to look at Lance for some answers.
“Dude, You Okay? Were you crying?”
Lance blinks away the tears he didn’t even know he was shedding.
“Shut the fuck up.”
He pauses when he remember Keith yelling at him earlier. He’s never felt like he needed to lie to Hunk, but the verbal abuse he had dealt with earlier lingered in Lance’s head.
“Lance, what happened?” Hunk asked again after Lance went silent mid sentence.
“We’re okay, Um… no Shiro. Sorry.”
“Dude, it’s okay I’m just glad your both safe.”
“Shut the fuck up…. Keep your mouth shut.”
Lance doesn’t say anything this time, just nods his head.
this white guy I considered an acquaintance went out and ate with my sister and
I, because we said he could come. And like, while the beginning of dinner was
alright, the second half was so disturbing. In short he turned out to be a flat
out racist, and I’m so angered and disgusted by it, and the fact that he still
thinks we’re like friends just ticks me off.
of the bullshit he said was that white people were the first American slaves,
slavery wasn’t racially motivated, that racial slurs have no power behind them,
that Texas wasn’t racist, and it just gets worse and it’s funny that he says
this considering he lived in Pennsylvania so doesn’t know shit about the South.
anyway, I don’t want to see him anymore, I want to avoid him.
said, do yall know any spells I can do to keep him away? Even curses. I can’t
do the proper binding ritual because I have nothing of his and there’s no
running water or streams where we live, so I’m at a loss. Anything would be helpful
omg so much microfic. How about some Shiro & Ulaz & a panic attack?
how about it? ;)
Shiro comes back to himself with a panicked start, lungs burning as he struggles for air. His heart’s pounding, fit to burst right out of his chest. His eyes skitter frantically over a blurred nothing. Where - where - ?!
“Shiro,” the voice repeats, insistent but calm. Something squeezes his hand. “Shiro, you must breathe. Can you do that? Inhale.”
Shiro sucks in a ragged gasp of air, lungs heaving, trying.
“Good,” the voice says, fierce but hushed. “Let it out. Again.”
Shiro obeys. Inch by inch he breathes; inch by inch the voice talks him down. Inch by inch his heart stops pounding. Gradually his surroundings clarify into dull sense. He’s sitting on the dirt floor, back pressed hard against two walls. He’s curled up into the corner. He can’t move his hands -
No. His right arm rests palm-up by his side, heavy and limp. Only his left hand is being held. Long fingers grip his, and the slight tip of claws brush against his wrist.
Someone crouches in front of him, their face furrowed in deep concern.
“Ulaz,” Shiro gasps.
“That is correct,” Ulaz says, quietly. His yellow eyes betray no alarm, merely worry. “Are you with me?”
Shiro’s left hand is caught up in Ulaz’s own, the Galra’s grip firm but not restrictive. Shiro’s knees are tucked tightly into his chest; Ulaz is crouched before him, immobile and steady. Even squatting down, Ulaz is so much larger than Shiro is. His knees press right above Shiro’s own, and his larger form neatly blocks Shiro’s view of the cell door. The edges of the door’s active energy field shimmer brightly around Ulaz’s form, a purple halo Shiro will see in his dreams for a week -
“No.” A hand grips his chin. Shiro flinches, bucking, but Ulaz’s claws are gentle. “Look at me. Do not look at the door.”
“H-how are you here?” Shiro manages. His tongue’s dry, lips cracked.
“I came after you,” Ulaz says, as matter-of-fact as if he were merely discussing the weather.
Came after you. But the cell door is active, and locked. That means -
Shiro fights against Ulaz’s grip, weak and shaking. Ulaz releases Shiro’s chin, but remains crouched before him, still blocking Shiro’s view of the active door. Even so - “You s-shouldn’t be here! What have you done?!”
“Do not worry about me,” Ulaz says, sharp. There’s no sign of injury on his face or hands. Ulaz is unharmed except that he’s imprisoned here, too, trapped just like Shiro. “This was my choice. Shiro, listen to me. The rest of your team is coming, but your Paladins will not get here in time. Your captors are coming for you first, unless we can stop them.”
The brief hope winging through Shiro’s chest sputters, caught. He thinks about crying: not in front of Ulaz. He thinks about running: the door is locked. He thinks about fighting -
“My arm,” Shiro whispers. His right arm is a deadweight at his side, metal fingers limp and lifeless. He cannot move them. “They - they did something-”
“I know,” Ulaz says. His calm voice is a rock, steady despite the undercurrent of urgency running through his words. “I can fix it, but it will hurt. However, if I re-activate your arm, we can use it to get out of this cell and find somewhere to bide time until your team arrives. Your captors will not hurt you.”
It will hurt.
Your captors are coming for you first.
Not even a choice. Shiro laughs, the shakiest of exhales. “Do it.”
Pride flits into Ulaz’s eyes, chased by a clear measure of confusion. Maybe laughing about their impending demise and torture through one way or another isn’t the reaction Ulaz expected. Oh, well. Ulaz should’ve thought of that before he ended up in this cell with Shiro.
“Do you understand me?” Ulaz repeats. “It will hurt. The hard reset was not designed to be easy on the host.”
“I heard you,” Shiro confirms. It takes all his energy but he pulls his head away from the wall, staring back at Ulaz with determination. “Do it. Pidge and Hunk can fix it later.”
Ulaz’s gaze softens inexplicably.
“I will assist them,” he promises. His hand hovers over Shiro’s immobile arm - and then, for the first time since Shiro came to, Ulaz hesitates. “You are sure?”
It will hurt.
Your Paladins will not get here in time.
“No other way, right?” Shiro says, hoarse. “My hand can open the door. Do it.”
“Then take a deep breath,” Ulaz says, and gently - carefully - he takes the elbow of Shiro’s Galra arm into his hands.