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schmokschmok · 3 years

Text

i’ll mako mermaid out of you

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Relationship: Keith Kogane x Lance McClain

Characters: Hunk Garrett, Keith Kogane, Lance McClain, Pidge Holt

Wordcount: 6,166

Freeform:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Alternate Universe - Fusion

H2O: Just Add Water Fusion

Mermaids

Comfort/No Hurt

Summary:

It's Lance's idea to steal Coran's boat to go to Mako Island, so it's basically his own fault that he'll never swim competitively again.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29940753

CN: Anxiety Attack, Blood (not graphic); Mentions of Death & Food

What could go wrong?, Lance said.

It’s not stealing if we’re bringing Coran’s boat back before dusk, Keith agreed.

I don’t think it’s a good idea. Maybe we should wait ’til tomorrow, Hunk objected.

Vroom, vroom, motherfuckers!, Pidge exclaimed as they jumped into Coran’s boat. Get in, losers, we’re going Mako Island.

Keith’s got to confess that it seemed like a good idea when Lance first suggested it: Borrowing Coran’s boat, driving out to Mako Island, examining the bush. (He would be lying if he said that he didn't think about all the rumours of supernatural phenomena surrounding Mako Island. And he would also be lying if he said that he didn't feel excitement rush through him at the mere thought of finding signs of monsters or cryptids.) But now that they're trapped inside a fucking volcano, he begins to regret every decision that led them to this point.

“It’s too steep,” Pidge says, not for the first time. They stand at the tunnel they all climbed down about half an hour ago, Hunk’s next to them, and they both won't stop looking for a way out the same way they got in.

Keith and Lance, on the other hand, are pretty sure there's no chance they could climb up again. (Keith tried, okay, but if he can’t do it, it’ll be impossible for Pidge.) So, their fingers search for openings in the wall while their feet carefully avoid stepping into the pool in the middle of the room.

“Found anything, yet?” Lance asked from the other side of the pool.

Keith wipes sweat from his forehead and shakes his head before he replies: “No. Nothing.” He turns around and catches sight of Lance who's feverishly patting at the stone as if there could be an opening if he just looked thoroughly enough.

The full moon shines brightly through an opening at the top of the cave, seeping into almost every nook and illuminating the water, the floor and the crowns of their heads. Maybe, if they wait just a little longer, there could be enough light to see properly. Maybe that will help them find an alternative exit.

“Hey gays,” Pidge says suddenly. “There are tide marks on the stone.” They're sitting at the water now and feel up the edge with the tips of their fingers. Right beside them is Hunk crouching down to verify their assessment. “There has to be a connection to the ocean.”

Cautiously making his way back over to Hunk and Pidge, Keith attempts to look for a passage deep down in the water, but he can’t make anything out in the darkness. He wants to say It’s worth a try. However, in the exact same moment Keith opens his mouth, Lance says: “Heck, only one way to find out!” And he jumps in like there is not even the slightest possibility of sharks on the other side; like he could just do that without Keith jumping right after him.

And Keith definitely would have rushed into the water mindlessly if it wasn’t for Pidge’s hand on his shin holding him back. (He wants to look down and reassure Pidge that everything’s alright because of the way their fingers claw their way into his clothes and the underlying skin, but he can’t avert his gaze from the point where Lance disappeared into the darkness with not more than having taken off his shoes.)

It feels like forever until little bubbles surface and Lance emerges with a smug grin on his face. (Hunk, Pidge and Keith release a breath they all very much knew they were holding.) Almost floating, he moves his arms in little motions to stay above the surface.

On one hand Keith really wants to smack him, on the other hand he’s glad that their escape seems to be easier than feared. Lance’s voice echoes off the stone walls: “It’s not far. Everyone could do it. A toddler could do it. Even Pidge could do it.” Maybe his grin is even wider than before.

Sighing, Hunk takes off his shoes, slides his feet over the edge of the pool and slowly sinks into the water to Lance, with clear disdain on his face. Following his example, Keith crouches down to remove his shoes, when he hears Pidge’s voice low and almost inaudible near his ear: “Keith, I … I can’t do this.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Keith replies irritated and glances at their face. “Lance says it’s not too far.” They wince and move the hand they were leaning on in front of their body. (Keith doesn’t want to make a scene or draw attention to them but it’s hard given the fact that they’re only four people in one single volcano.)

“Keith, yes, it is,” Pidge says in a hushed tone, perhaps even quieter than before. “I never told you because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it but … I don’t really know how to, y’know, swim.” Nervously, their index finger and thumb adjust their glasses and it’s obvious they expect some sort of comedic response or mild laughter but Keith only furrows.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to. We got this,” Keith reassures them, before gesturing towards their shoes. “Take them off. And don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.” He sinks into the water, before reaching out to Pidge, who’s just now pocketing their glasses, encouraging them with a small smile to trust him. And, surprisingly, they accept the hand he’s offering without questioning him. Hesitatingly, they lower their body.

They can’t stand (in fact, none of them can) and Pidge holds onto Keith, panic evident on their face. To comfort them, Keith slings his arm around their waist.

“Everything’s alright?” Hunk asks, moving closer to them. “Pidge, you don’t look too well.” Wax-pale face and shaky hands, they nod, maybe a tick too frantic, but Hunk and Lance don’t seem to realise their emotional state. At least for now.

And that is precisely the moment the full moon is finally in its zenith, filling up the whole opening at the top of the cave. The water surrounding them begins to bubble and glow in an iridescent blue light. An unnatural fog builds up right above the water surface and disperses the moonlight between their bodies.

“What the fuck? What the actual ever-loving fuck?” Pidge screeches, while basically scrambling to get on top of Keith. Every word out of their mouth is accentuated by near hysterical panic and huffed, air sucking breaths.

In a nigh impossible attempt to not suffocate or drown, Keith holds Pidge in place, fingers digging into the hem of their top and stabilising their hip, while gulping down air and staying afloat. (But he’s barely holding it together himself because this? This is not natural. And it’s probably not good.)

Lance and Hunk cling to each other, indulging in litanies of oh, my gods and what the hecks.

It only lasts for a few seconds until the full moon surpasses its zenith and the water calms down, glow slowly fading. Aghast and brimming over with fear, Lance separates from Hunk and exclaims: “We should get the heck outta here.”

Hunk and Keith nod, then Hunk and Lance disappear below the surface without another word.

“Inhale deeply and don’t let go. On three,” Keith says, before counting to three in a low voice. Almost at the same moment Keith and Pidge inhale and submerge, following Lance and Hunk through the dark water and the passage deep down to the other side of the stone wall.

It only takes about thirty seconds until they reach the other side and break through the surface, able to breathe again. Not even for a moment did Keith’s grip on Pidge loosen. Nonetheless, they look deranged and almost close to tears. They suck in air heavily and cling onto Keith as if he’d let go any second now.

“Only a few metres, now,” Keith huffs, more paddling than swimming but without getting far.

Suddenly, there’s a second arm around Pidge’s waist and half of their weight gets lifted off his shoulder. Their face is still buried in his neck and their hot, heavy breath meets his exposed skin. Keith smiles at Hunk who lends him a hand and together they make their way to the shore under Lance’s sorrowful eye.

Pidge’s breath becomes shallower and shallower. They attempt to control it by forcefully holding their breath and then slowly releasing it. But it doesn’t seem to work. The shallow little breaths return.

Keith’s feet hit the ground just a moment after Hunk’s. With joined forces they carry Pidge onto the beach and set them down on the sandy ground. Or at least try to because Pidge won’t let go of Keith and he hangs awkwardly in the air right above them, placing his entire weight on his knees.

“What’s going on?” Lance’s low voice is almost inaudible because Pidge’s laboured breath is drowning out about nearly everything around them.

Voice matched to a soft murmur, Hunk answers: “Not sure.”

Keith wants to tell them what’s going on, just to make sure that they don’t worry too much, but it’s not his place to tell them Pidge’s secret, is it? (At least they’re keeping their distance in an attempt to lessen the pressure on Pidge.)

Keith’s hands wrap around Pidge’s and free him with slow, gentle movements from their grip. While carefully pushing them away from him, Keith murmurs comforting words to calm them down. (He’s not even sure what he’s saying.)

“You know, you’re seriously badass,” he says, and Pidge lets out a sound akin to a laugh. “No, no, no. I mean it. That was incredibly brave, Pidge Gunderson.”

“Fuck you, Keith,” Pidge huffs in between sobs, then they let themselves fall onto their back and giggle hysterically. “Shit! Shit!” Keith sits down next to them, and Hunk and Lance join them, still unsure how to handle the situation.

“You’re gonna tell us what’s going on?” Lance asks as he’s searching for Keith’s hand on the ground. Their fingers interlace with each other and Keith gives Lance a small smile.

Even though Pidge was in the process of wiping tears from their face, they make a dismissive gesture with their hand, telling Keith to answer for them.

“Well, apparently Pidge thought swimming would be a useless skill, so they never bothered to learn.” Lance freezes. The only reason Keith even realizes it is because Lance's grip on his hand tightens. He doesn't say anything and neither does Keith. Instead, it's Hunk who speaks up.

“Oh my god, Pidge, why didn't you say anything?” It's obvious he's working himself up and Keith knows for a fact how horrible it is to feel guilty on top of a panic attack, that's why he's shooting Hunk a look who immediately ducks his head and blushes.

“Pidge, is it okay if I hug you?” Hunk asks next, slowly reaching out to them but merely hovering above their arm, unsure if he's allowed to touch them.

A soft voiced and shaky “that would be nice” later, Hunk wraps his arms around Pidge and squeezes them tight against his chest. The pressure on their ribcage seems to force them to even out their breathing, and after good half a minute, it looks like they’re finally in control over their body again.

Lance is uncharacteristically quiet beside Keith, and Keith throws a glance out of the corner of his eyes towards him. There’s a tension between his eyebrows and his lips form a hard line, discontent oozing from every single pore.

“You okay?” Keith asks lowly as to not disturb Pidge’s and Hunk’s moment, ready to get brushed off by Lance who never really liked being called out on his insecurities, especially not in front of other people. Even if these people are his best friends. (It’s a strict one-person confidentiality with Lance, has always been.)

“It's just … they go to the beach with us regularly. I dropped them into the ocean several times. I could have killed them.” Lance stumbles over the words trying to come out too quickly and all at the same time, hushed voice almost breathless. Suddenly, all blood drains from his face, he’s even paler in the light of the moon, and he stares right past Keith at Pidge.

“Did you just,” Lance can’t seem to decide whether he wants to sound outraged or scared shitless. “Did you just dive, like, under water? Even though you can’t swim?! Pidge, what the heck!” Keith tightens his grip on Lance’s hand, but the tension in Lance’s shoulders doesn’t ease the slightest, and Lance doesn’t even close his mouth all the way before he continues. “This is dangerous as fuck, Pidge!”

It’s not hard to see how this is going to go if nobody stops Lance right this second. Keith can hear Pidge’s breathing picking up again and feel the rapid beating of Lance’s heart in the space between his fingers.

“Lance,” Keith says with a finality in his voice, “this is not helping. And you know I wouldn’t have let them drown. Matt would kill me. They’re stuck with us.”

Lance groans in response but keeps quiet otherwise. Keith doesn’t know what he did to shut Lance up, but this is clearly not the time to question it, so he turns towards Pidge and Hunk, the latter finally letting go of the former.

“I for one,” Keith continues, calling the attention to himself, “think we should get the fuck out of here.”

And no one tries to argue with him.

It’s only been a day since they’ve come back from Make Island, hurriedly bringing back Coran’s boat before he can realise it’s been missing in the first place. Keith fell right into bed after a quick shower to wash off the sea salt because he can imagine all too clearly Lance’s smug comments about his dried up, flaky skin if he wouldn’t. And the thought alone is enough to warrant precautions.

He’s been lying in bed all day, only getting up to snack through the kitchen and bother Shiro during lunch hour. But after a few hours he got restless, skin itching with the need to go out again and exercise in any shape or form. So, he slipped into knee-length joggers and a tank to take a short run through the neighbourhood.

The first ten minutes stretch longer than anticipated, exhaustion from a too short night still prevalent. (He hasn’t talked to Pidge yet, anger at their carelessness and dishonesty predominating now that the initial worry has worn off. But it’s not their fault, they didn’t really lie about anything, and it’s in their right to not disclose information. So, he’s left with aimless anger that he’ll hopefully run out of his system.)

After almost half an hour, he finally feels more at ease, the steady thrum of his feet on the pavement soothing his nerves and lulling him into a somewhat peaceful state of mind.

And that’s when he runs past a sprinkler, right through the spray, seeking out every little refreshment in the summer heat he can find, and, all of a sudden, losing the ground underneath his feet, falling face first into the wet grass.

Keith doesn’t know what just happened, rolling onto his back to stare at the sky self-pityingly for a second, breath coming and going in short, controlled bouts. When he tries to plant the sole of his feet on the ground to get up again, he realises that he can’t and props himself up on his elbows to take a look at his feet, getting caught completely off-guard by the sheer absence of his feet. And legs. In lieu, a red scaled fish tail flops aimlessly on the ground.

“What the fuck,” Keith says to no one in particular, not even in the right mind to thank every deity in existence that there is no one to witness his incoming breakdown.

Without his own volition, his right hand reaches out and prods at a stray scale on his hipbone where the tail bleeds out into his skin.

Now, Keith knows the weirdest thing should be that suddenly he’s half fish or whatever, but he can’t comprehend that right now anyways, so he’s mostly weirded out by the fact that it doesn’t feel like he’s touching skin but more like applying pressure to a finger- or toenail. It’s not a real touch, but the ghostly remnant of applied pressure. It feels terrible and Keith fucking hates it.

“What the fuck,” he says again for emphasis, because how is he supposed to explain this to Shiro? Shiro, gotta move out, live under the sea, doing fish things? That's not going to happen.

He tries to get up a few times, to find footing even though he knows it's impossible. Because if he doesn't try to fight his tail, what is he going to do?

A few unsuccessful attempts later, hands and forearms covered in grass stains and dirt, he thinks that if he can't get up and walk away, he can still crawl his way back to safety. (His mind helpfully supplies him with Lance's name and face, apparently the only choice at hand as Shiro is still at work and Lance is the only human in Keith's life that he knows like the back of his hand. And for the first time ever it actually proves useful because Keith knows that around this time Lance is training for an upcoming swimming competition.)

Digging his elbows into the ground, Keith crawls his way off the grass, only to be met by the rough texture of the pavement that scrapes across his abdomen and tail in the most painful way possible. Dragging skin (or scales for that matter) across asphalt is admittedly not the smartest decision Keith has ever made.

For a moment he contemplates just rolling the whole way, but he’s as quick to dismiss it entirely when he experimentally rolls onto his back and sees the blood and dust clinging to his skin. Maybe the pavement had been rougher than anticipated.

His head drops onto the ground with a low thud, and Keith can’t hold back an exasperated groan. If anyone’s going to see him, he’s sure to find himself within a fish tank in under an hour. (Is he able to breathe underwater? What if he’s just a dude with a fish tail and can’t even breathe underwater, but they think he’s some kind of mythical mermaid creature in desperate need of water, and he drowns?) This can’t possibly get any worse, he thinks.

The sprinkler splutters to a halt, and the only thing Keith can hear is the crying and chattering of the seagulls and the ships and boats dashing through the water not too far away. Just one single human being with binoculars could end his suffering – or his life, depending on their nature. At least he’s still in the sun, slowly but steadily drying off (and out? He’s still not sure how this is supposed to work).

In the end, it doesn’t take too long for him to be completely dry again and a prickling sensation to set in in his legs – tail, whatever. He wonders surprisingly clear headed if this is how he’s going to die. Just softly prickling to death until nothing is left but a few stray red scales.

But instead of losing consciousness or ascending into another plane of existence, the collar of his shoe starts digging into his heel rather uncomfortably. Keith wonders if he did something wrong in this or in his past life to deserve dying with a shoe collar pressing into his Achilles tendon.

Keith shoots upright with wide eyes and stares at his shoes, at the exposed skin of his shin and finally his grey joggers, trying to comprehend that the tail is gone. No scales, no fins, nothing. Not a single trace of his mermaid moment. This time around, Keith wonders if he hit his head on Mako Island, and the resulting concussion made him hallucinate for about ten minutes.

He doesn’t know what to do or think, so he jumps up and takes up his run again, changing directions towards the public pool in hope of catching Lance.

The pool comes in sight in record time, and if Keith had more on his mind than fuckfuckfuck, he’d probably be at least a little bit proud of the fact that he’s not panting in utter exhaustion as he passes through the gates and heads straight for the pool Lance is most likely to train.

When he reaches the pool, he can already spot Lance’s brown head of hair, surprisingly dry. Not a single drop of water clings to his skin even though he’s sitting right next to the water, only inches separating him from being able to dip his toes. His arms wrapped around his knees, he rests his head on them, too, gaze loosely directed at the surface, but Keith’s quick to realise that Lance doesn’t actually look at the water. He’s far off with his thoughts, and he almost jumps in shock when Keith flops down beside him.

“Jesus Christ, Keith,” Lance exclaims, hand pressed against his rapidly beating heart, “make a noise, dude.”

Keith doesn’t answer, studying Lance’s pale face instead, almost reaching out to touch one of Lance’s freckles to will the rest of his face into colour again, but he holds himself back in the last second possible, hand hovering aimlessly in the air until he places it gently on Lance’s shoulder as if that had been the plan all along.

“Everything okay?” Keith asks.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Lance replies defensively, obviously not good in the slightest. “You spooked me, that’s all.”

Keith nods, and silence engulfs them for a few heartbeats while they look at each other. Keith with an imploring gaze, Lance with a closed off expression as if he’d stand a chance not telling Keith what’s going on with him.

“Did something happen?” Keith asks after a moment because if Lance is in a bad mood, his ten-minute fish tail hallucination can surely wait half an hour or longer. Maybe he doesn’t have to talk about it at all again. If he’s waiting long enough, he’ll forget it himself. Maybe. Eventually.

Lance (who is really, really bad at keeping anything secret from Keith) almost mewls in uneasiness, but quickly corrects his outburst with a dismissive: “You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

“Maybe,” Keith agrees, trying to keep his tone light. “Maybe I will. You’ll never know if you don’t at least try.”

Furrowing his brow, Lance seems to contemplate Keith’s words, weighing his options against each other, growing visibly more anxious with every second that ticks by. But Keith keeps quiet, gives Lance the space to make up his mind. And even if he doesn’t want to (and even if it will be the hardest thing to do) if Lance decides that he doesn’t want to tell Keith, then Keith will accept that, too. (Is that character growth? Shiro’ll be so proud of him, disgusting.)

From one second to the other, Lance’s gaze hardens in earnestness, and he straightens up, turning towards Keith, opening up his whole posture to puff up his chest while he says determinedly: “I can’t tell you.” He pauses as if to muster up all the courage in his bones. “But I can show you.”

In one flowing movement, Lance stands up and extends his hand for Keith to take, then he hoists him up with surprisingly little effort, and Keith’s cheeks heat up embarrassingly. But Lance doesn’t pay him any mind, just drags him along with their still intertwined hands.

“You can’t show me here?” Keith asks in confusion, watching Lance shake his head in response.

“I cannot. Under no circumstance,” Lance replies, not slowing down in the slightest when Keith almost trips on his own feet trying to trail after him.

They leave Lance’s bag behind, and Keith is soon to realise that they’re walking towards the beach, the rocky part where Keith knows for certain that the possibility of running into other people is slim. – He has no idea whatsoever why Lance would drag him there.

“Why did you come anyway?” Lance asks absentmindedly, clearly preoccupied with his own problem at hand.

So, Keith decides that it really, really doesn’t matter what he thought he experienced, and says dismissively: “Nothing of importance. It can wait”, and it can. Lance’s thing is much more important, whatever it may be. (And if Keith gets enough distance between himself and the aching scrapes on his stomach, then he can ignore the episode forever. Probably.)

“Okay,” Lance says lowly, and they don’t talk for the remainder of their way. Which is unsettling in its own way, because Keith can count on one hand the times that Lance hasn’t filled their silence with mindless chatter and exaggerated retellings of stories Keith has heard a hundred times before. Not one of those times had been a happy one.

He tries to swallow down the agitation welling up inside him, but it’s harder than anticipated to swallow down something that has already nested just inches shy of his stomach. Needless to say that he doesn’t feel calmer when they finally reach the beach and Lance climbs down the stairs, still pulling at Keith’s hand to ensure that he’s still following, still coming, still present.

After a short walk around and over a few large rocks, they reach a small part of the beach that is entirely secluded from the rest, sheltered from prying eyes and curious minds, and Lance comes to a halt, back still turned to Keith, but still holding onto Keith’s hand as if he’s in constant fear of Keith disappearing on him. (As if Keith could leave Lance. As if anything on this planet could make Keith leave Lance. It’s ridiculous.)

“I’m going to show you something,” Lance says before turning around and staring into Keith’s face, looking for something Keith can’t comprehend. “And you’re going to stay calm.”

“Yeah, I thought that’s why we’re here,” Keith retorts impatiently, agitation growing steadily, but Lance doesn’t let himself be bothered by Keith’s temperament. They’ve known each other for so long, Lance is probably not surprised by anything Keith does anymore. (Well, except the whole tail thing. Which Keith won’t bring up, so Lance doesn’t even get the chance to be surprised. Check and mate or whatever.)

A shaky smile appears on Lance’s lips, and he lets go of Keith’s hand all of a sudden, leaving behind a sense of loss Keith only experiences when Lance touches him and withdraws again. It’s a unique feeling that reminds him unpleasantly of the equally unique flutter in his abdomen whenever he sees Lance after too much time apart. (Too much is a malleable phrase, because on some days Keith can’t even escape the flutter when Lance comes back from the kitchen after getting up to fetch them a glass of water or a snack for their movie night.)

Lance walks backwards, eyes trained on Keith, until only a few inches separate him from the roll of the waves lapping against the sandy shore. With a last shaky breath, Lance repeats: “Remember, stay calm,” and takes a huge step backwards, suddenly ankle-deep in salt water.

For a moment, nothing happens. Lance just stares at him in apprehension, obviously waiting for something to happen. Keith is about to open his mouth to ask Lance what the fuck he’s thinking he’s doing, when the water around Lance’s feet starts to bubble, and his knees give out under him, sending him into the shallow water with a surprised yelp.

“What the fuck,” Keith hears himself say, not for the first time today, and most likely not for the last. “Lance!”

Keith stumbles forward a few steps, scrambling towards Lance, but he freezes as soon as his feet come too close to the steady waves, because now that he’s not only focused on Lance’s toppling, he realises that Lance seems to be more disgruntled and unhappy than hurt. Which could be caused by the large blue fish tail he wears like his least favourite shoes.

“What the fuck,” Keith repeats, loud enough for Lance to hear him, too. Because, let’s be honest, what else could he possibly say. Today is one big clusterfuck of a shitshow, and Keith doesn’t have the emotional range anymore to respond accordingly.

“I don’t know, man,” Lance calls back, even though Keith could probably hear him too if he were whispering. “You’re not going to, like, freak out on me, are you?”

“No,” Keith lies, you know, like a liar. He even shakes his head for good measure.

Displaying his vast knowledge of Keith’s tone of voice and every single expression Keith could sport at any given moment, Lance says: “Sure thing, buddy, please don’t, like, pass out or anything, I couldn’t catch you if I tried.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. He says: “No. I get it.”

“You do?” Lance’s voice is sceptical, and he furrows his brows again. Obviously dissatisfied with Keith’s reaction to the whole situation. Or rather lack of reaction. (Maybe he doesn’t know Keith as well as Keith knows him. Or maybe Keith is a terrible human being with one puzzle piece up his sleeve that Lance can’t possibly know about.)

“Yeah, still in shock, I guess,” Keith replies easily, toeing his shoes off his feet and taking the smallest step known to man toward the water. “Funny thing is that I came by to talk to you, too.”

“You said it’s not important,” Lance responds, face growing even more disgruntled. “We’re talking about my thing right now, Keith, get with the program.”

That pries a self-deprecating chuckle from Keith’s lips, and he draws in another deep breath, before he steps forward, cold sea water embracing his feet like an old friend. – Maybe they’re really friends now, considering the big fucking tail that appears where Keith’s legs have been until a second ago, sending him down into the water right on top of Lance who’s yelping in surprise again.

“You dick,” Lance splutters, mouth full of sea water. But then his eyes zero in on Keith’s tail and they grow wide in shock. He scrambles, fingers digging into wet sand until they hit Keith’s scales for the first time and hold onto them like Keith’s tail is Lance’s lifeline. Lance screeches: “This is not important? Not relevant enough to mention once?”

Being propped up on his elbows complicates Keith’s attempts of shrugging, but he thinks he’s getting the point across when he retorts: “You said you had something on your mind.”

For the first time almost completely engulfed by water, Keith tries to ignore the burning of the salt in the scrapes on his stomach, only to relent and navigate his tail into the same direction as Lance’s while rolling onto his back to lift his stomach out of the water.

Meanwhile Lance questions: “Have you always been a merman? Did you bite me to turn me into a merman, too?”, completely ignoring Keith’s admission. He eyes the contrast of their tails – red and blue, both unnatural like poisonous fishes –, wandering until they settle on his stomach, finally taking in Keith’s scratched up skin. “What happened to you?”

“Went for a run, got into contact with water, didn’t know it would end when it dries off, tried to move on asphalt anyway,” Keith rattles off detachedly, taking in the way Lance’s tail bleeds out into his back, singular scales just shy off the dimples above his hip bone. (The tail looks far better on Lance, but Keith won’t say that out loud.) “You seriously think I’d werewolf you into becoming a mermaid, Lance?”

“Maybe merfolk is immortal, and you just can’t live without me anymore,” Lance replies smugly, obviously growing accustomed to the thought that they’re amphibian now. Or whatever else the fuck mermaids are.

Keith decides to give Lance one more win to keep him from getting anxious again, even though he’s not sure if Lance really needs another reason to be self-complacent: “Well, if I were an immortal mermaid and I could turn you into my kind with a bite, maybe I’d do it.”

Lance grins at him now, big and wide and rosy-cheeked, and he lifts his wet hand to gently brush a strand of Keith’s hair out of his face. He doesn’t take his hand back, however. It settles on Keith’s cheek instead, cool skin soothing Keith’s fluttering nerves.

“You know,” Lance says, and his words don’t have the same joking quality to them anymore, clearing a path for earnestness that threatens to spill into Keith’s heart, “if I had to spend eternity with an immortal fish, I’d rather it be you.”

And Lance doesn’t know what he elicits in Keith’s soul, that he throws blotting paper into the burning hot flames of Keith’s yearning right beneath his skin. Lance doesn’t know, and it infuriates Keith greatly, beyond anything else. – And in extenuation of Keith as a person, he never said he’s got any impulse control, and just because he’s grown as a person since his angry teenage years, don’t make him less of a hothead. So, it’s to exactly no one’s surprise that Keith reaches out to Lance, cupping his face hastily and probably a little bit on the rough side to pull him close enough to kiss him.

Keith is not a strong man – mentally wise. He’s really, really weak emotionally speaking. And not kissing Lance has been on his agenda for so long now that he surprises himself with the fact that he didn’t do it sooner. Because only now that he actually does it, he realises just how natural it feels to have Lance pressed against him, bare skin on bare skin.

It doesn’t take long for Keith to realise that Lance hasn’t exactly kissed him back, which is as unsettling as it is anxiety inducing, so he pulls back only to be met by Lance’s wide eyes and slack jaw. Keith’s hand falls down, leaves Lance’s face hurriedly, but Lance stays glued to Keith’s cheek, mouth opening in quiet awe. (Oh, God, Keith really hopes it’s awe.)

“You kissed me,” Lance says matter-of-factly, eyes still widened in surprise.

Keith sighs sheepishly. “Yeah.”

“And we’re both some kind of weird half-mermaid,” Lance states for good measure.

Keith averts his eyes, not knowing where to look instead. “Yeah.”

“What the fuck,” Lance says.

“What the fuck,” Keith agrees.

And then Lance’s lips find his again, and he’s suddenly confronted with half a lap of blue fish tail while Lance’s second hand joins his first, burying themselves into Keith’s hair like it’s the only thing they were ever intended to do.

This time, Keith doesn’t immediately kiss back, still kind of reeling from the whiplash of Lance throwing himself at Keith. And Lance pulls back, almost bending over backwards in an attempt to give Keith some space if he wants it, because Lance is a good guy. (Which is probably the reason Keith fell for him in the first place.)

“This wasn’t some spur of the moment split second decision, was it?” Lance asks almost breathlessly. “You’re not going to back out on me, are you?”

“Kinda, I mean: No—well, I didn’t plan on it,” Keith says, shaking his head to drive his point home. Whatever that point may be. “Not going to back out, though. Don’t worry.”

Lance’s face almost splits in half with a smile so blindingly boyish that Keith forgets to breathe for a moment. He wants to frame this moment, savour it for as long as possible, and never ever let go of Lance’s face or arms or hip. (He will, they can’t stay in the water forever. But a guy can dream, right?)

(Kissing Lance is intoxicating, and it definitely makes up for the throng of hypothetical questions and hypotheses Lance throws his way in between, trying to examine every last possibility of their new state of being before plunging into the water and experiencing it first-hand, even though Keith can’t answer one of them because he’s as new to this as Lance. – Kissing Lance might even be the best thing Keith has ever done, and while he’s still a bit peeved that it took them so long to finally do it, he can’t help himself but think that he doesn’t mind the tail as much now that it is evident that it’s the catalysator of bottled-up feelings Keith didn’t think he could have endured any longer.)

Being a merman is kind of amazing. (Even if Pidge doesn’t agree.)

#voltron: legendary defender #klance #vld #keith kogane #lance mcclain #schmok writes #fanfiction #mermaid lance #mermaid keith #h20: just add water

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thechaoscryptid · 4 years

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Writer’s Tag Game, Bouncy’s Edition

Many thanks to @tipsyraconteur for tagging me ❤❤ I know I said this was going to be my strictly Naruto blog but there’s definitely some of my other fandoms that are going to worm their way in heh.

Rules: brag to your heart’s content, you’re awesome, and then tag 5-10 people to do the same.

I’m tagging (if you’d like to play, no obligation): @magnustesla, @scarecrowinthewoods, @dunloth, @caped-ace, @alexianite, @benicemurphy, and @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul (you Voltron peeps, it’s Ary 😉)

1) What’s a paragraph you’ve written that you’re really proud of?

From Order and Obedience (KakaIru):

“Think Konoha’s dog is going to be an easy fuck, ranger?” Kakashi asked, eyeing every possible exit. Just in case. “That my allegiance is so easily swayed?”

“I think if you were still wearing your boots you’d be trembling in them,” Iruka said without missing a beat. “Your desire to serve the light may not make sense to me, but even I can see that the way your skin drinks in the moon would be pleasing to any god. I’m not demanding darkness, only obedience.”

2) Pick a favorite scene from your longest fic!

The scene in Wake the White Wolf (KakaIru) where Sera and Kakashi part ways. I still get chills at the lines “You are no longer my problem. I am no longer your whore.” There’s plenty of fantastic scenes from that fic, but that still remains one of my favorites. That whole arc, really, from when she finds out the news to when it’s finally 100% over.

3) Give us a snippet of your most recent WIP:

Voltron! This is a part of one of my stories for the Sheith Big Bang coming up:

A galaxy will never be enough to contain my love for you.

Mechanically, Keith’s hands go through the motions of powering up Black as Krolia’s voice comes through the comm link. It’s another diplomacy mission--another he’d rather skip in favor of liberating some far off colony from oppressors or just staying in bed, unmoving. The lion doesn’t speak to him the way she used to, and neither does anything else. The universe, for all its glory, has become simple.

Dull.

Grey, even with color sprays from passing planets and nebulas.

He chews on the side of his lip as he lets his head tip to the side, checking to make sure things are in order. His mother’s still rattling off information about the mission and he just wants to tell her to be quiet, he’ll figure it out on his own later. He wants to hear the ghost of Shiro’s voice whispering it loves him again.

Keith…

Ghosts are never enough, but Shiro’s I’ll love you until forever ends echoing in his head assuages the pre-mission blues. “Not that it’s ever anything else these days,” he says under his breath. Krolia asks what he said, and he blames it on a squeaky chair. “Gotta get in here and tune up the cockpit when I’m back. Project for Shiro and I.”

“Well, just as long as it doesn’t interfere with things now. You ready to give ‘em hell?”

Keith pastes a smile on his face, though he knows she’s not on the video link. “Would you expect anything different?”

4) If all of your published fics sparred, who would win and why?

Ohh, tough one...based off of stats, Wake the White Wolf, no question. Off of personal preference? Probably Crescendo (SakuOro) right now.

5) What’s a fic/author you’ve taken inspiration from and in which one of your works did you incorporate that inspiration?

I won’t lie, Tipsy, a lot of my recent style choices came from Scar Tissue 😅 I found I really enjoy storytelling in present tense, with longer flowing lines punctuated by short lil ones for emphasis. It’s appeared in...most of my recent stuff? I switched within the last year or so.

(putting the rest under a cut because there’s some longer answers)

6) Which fanfiction character do you enjoy writing the most? In which one of your fics do you think you wrote them best?

This is another tough one xD I think I actually have to go with a three part answer here, though really, I enjoy writing so many more.

Kakashi Hatake: Shatter Me (KakaIru), best fic

Dazai Osamu: Marionette (Dazushi), best fic

Keith Kogane: since I can’t tell which one of my bang fics yet, I’ll go with my favorite published, which is Unsteady (Sheith). Truly, it’s going to be the fic from the above snippet hehe

7) Smut or fluff? Give us a sneak peek of your favorite fluffy/smutty scene you’ve written.

Mmm, smut. I’ve really got to be in the right mood for fluff, and my not-so-guilty pleasure reading is angsty smut.

My favorite fluffy/smutty scene...I think it’s probably from Reciprocity (KakaSaku)!

He wishes he still had the Sharingan to capture these moments. Sakura’s still got her thin undershirt on, but the delicate hollows of her collarbones call to him as she reaches over to light their lantern. There will be no fire tonight save for the one burning low and heavy in his stomach, as if he’s swallowed molten rock.

“Do I need to do the rest?” she says, dragging her hands up her legs as she stands. “Should I strip for you, Kakashi?”

He stands along with her and tugs off his mask first, then his shirt. Sakura gasps as the angry red of fresh scars is revealed, fingers twitching toward him before he shakes his head. “Let me,” he murmurs.

Inch by inch, the pale curve of her stomach is revealed. Shadows flicker and dance over it along with the flames, and when Kakashi pulls Sakura’s shirt the entire way off he thinks not even the prettiest sunset could compare. There’s several scars--no shinobi makes it out without them--and no shortage of muscle packed into her small frame, but somehow she makes a battleborn body beautiful.

Sakura makes life beautiful.

Her breath hitches when he tells her this, something shifting in her at the tender touch of his lips against her forehead. “You’re sure you don’t want me to just jump you right now?” she says breathlessly.

“No jumping,” he says. “Only falling.”

8) What’s a scene in one of your fics you wish you would receive fanart for?

Uh, literally any one 😅 My top choice, though, I think would be of my favorite OT3 in Desperately:

“I’ll be a lot cuter when the day comes.” Sakura shoved the bandana up and crunched her nose as she looked back with Ibiki. “You might have to leave me at the altar to catch everyone fainting at the sight of me.”

Ibiki’s laugh rumbled through the living room as he gathered her back to his chest. “We’re never leaving you there, baby, you know we couldn’t,” he said. “Or maybe we could take turns catching them. How d’you think your clothes will hold up, Rai?”

“They’ll be fine. I volunteer for catching duty as long as it’s you two falling for me at the end,” he said, spreading his arms over the back of the couch as he watched them sway. “And of course, falling into bed with me later.” Ibiki cocked an eyebrow as Sakura giggled into his scarred chest. “What, you think I”m joking?”

“Never considered it,” Ibiki said. He pulled away from Sakura to trail his hand up her arm, urging her to spin. His uniform lifted from her creamy skin and Raidou sucked in a breath as the purple lace on the bottom of her underwear was revealed. She knew he couldn’t resist those, and Ibiki certainly didn’t mind them either.

“Come here,” he said. Ibiki let her go and gave her a gentle push toward Raidou’s outstretched arms before flopping next to them as the song began to repeat. “I saw those. You can’t hide them from me.” Her hair tickled his face as he kissed over her cheek down to her ear. “Wearing my husband’s shirt and my wife-to-be’s favorite underwear, how scandalous, Sakura,” he purred.

“I’m sure your wife-to-be will be so very displeased I stole them,” she said, pulling back with a mock pout before turning to beg a kiss from Ibiki. “I hear she picked them specifically for tonight because she wanted to get laid.”

9) Would you ever consider turning one of your fics into a podfic? If no, why not?

Not on my own? I have hearing problems, so it’s just really never occurred to me. If anyone else wanted to, though, I wouldn’t say no!

10) The best (or your favourite) 5 reviews you’ve ever gotten! Don’t forget to tell us which one of your fics received them!

There’s so many 😭😭 My commenters are all fucking awesome, but I’ll trawl my saved comments for some highlights!

P5eud0Nym on Wake the White Wolf (KakaIru omegaverse): So, I just wanted to say you’ve been doing a fantastic job. I appreciate that this isn’t, and hasn’t at any point been, a dumb tropey kink fic. That you’ve taken the time to put so much heart into all of this. The fact that you’re exploring the politics, the social issues, and writing all of the characters as being more than just their A/B/O designations, so good. The multifaceted way you write is just really and truly refreshing. It’s obvious how much work and thought you put into this. You’re tackling a lot of really important stuff, from consent to civil rights, and it’s some grade A USDA certified Good Shit. Thanks for the fic and keep up the good work <3

Lilmeliz on Monster (ShigaDabi): AAAAAAA GUARANTEED I CAN BLOW YOUR MIND mwa. Please excuse the lame dua lipa reference I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I couldn’t-- Delicious. Finally some fucking good food. I want to congratulate you. This is such a beautiful, touching, heartwarming masterpiece. I even cried a little. I usually read shiggy with his dark past and his (soul) scars and all that jazz, and venturing into the thought of him having a mere fiber of good will in himself, in his actual self, is risky and prone to be ooc. But here it sounds right. It feels personal, private and even possible, my boi :( Dabi is an angel, I’m dying. I like the reminder “they lie, they kill...” Yes he’s an angel but he’s still evil. I don’t know what else to add but really, this is stunning! IM GONNA TATTOO THISSS amazing work

Prism0467 on Forbidden (KakaIru): You have written their mutual dependency with such nurturing attention to detail I feel as if I know them. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt...embraced by a work of fanfiction before now...this may well be a first. Your enthusiasm for this pairing comes through loud and clear, I’ll tell you that :)

PearlBear on Crescendo (SakuOro): Wow. Just wow. This is brilliant, heart-wrenching, creative and extremely, extremely well-written. You have such a way with words, I was actually crying. And you adapt their lives as shinobi so seamlessly to situations that happen in real life (how many partners give up on possibilities for their significant one and get nothing in return?). This story managed to move me deeply and all the while, they all were in-character (it hurt when Tsunade looked at Orochimaru in the same way they all do, also loved how Tobirama and Madara are his parents). The omegaverse wasn’t heavy at all, instead it’s well integrated enough that I, who don’t particularly like it, barely noticed and completely accepted it. It’s just the way things are. You manage to convey so, so much in a few words. I’m amazed. So, thank you for sharing this! I am very, very excited for what’s next, whether Orochimaru experiments to save himself, whether Sakumo commits suicide (or worse, dies on this mission), whether... So many possibilities. Your story is outstanding. Thank you for writing this gem!

(insert special shoutout to Tipsy’s review of Testing the Waters...)

and no comment appreciation section would be complete without at least one from @magnustesla!

This one from Of Scale and Steel (Sheith naga AU): Ary, sometimes I am left speechless and I don’t quite know how to articulate my thoughts after reading one of your fics. Like, everything is just so...so brilliant that it’s like my brain fucks off when I try to get my thoughts down onto a page. Turning well known and beloved characters into something else entirely isn’t easy and often they miss the mark leaving the reader not really connecting with it. But you, you are brilliant and clever in all that you write because damn, I love Naga Keith. It feels like it IS part of canon. And your oc? Super adorable and she just belongs. I really loved her interactions with Shiro and the chewing on his finger had me rollling because it reminded me of when J would test everything by chomping it. Not relevant but it sparked a good laugh from me, especially because it is totally something kids do. I’m so fucking proud of you and I’m excited to see you get your mojo back with this fandom. Love you ❤

#tag game #get to know me

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bearly-writing · 5 years

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Take My Whole Life Too (Part 2)

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Characters: Shiro, Keith, Hunk, Lance, Pidge, Allura

Warnings: Past rape, Flashbacks, Nightmares, PTSD - This is a continuation of the first part, please check the warnings there if you are worried

Summary: All Shiro wants to do is forget that anything ever happened. Push it to the back of his mind where he keeps all the other awful things the Galra have done, and go on as he had before. But it’s difficult to do that when everyone else remembers it right along with him.

Read it on AO3 here!

Read the first part here! (Please mind the warnings).

Quick warning that this fic deals with the aftermath of rape, including nightmares, flashbacks, and PTSD. Nothing is overly graphic, but please be careful!

They’re all waiting for Shiro when he emerges from the pod. That’s not unusual. Ever since that first awful time with Lance, they always try to be there whenever someone wakes up. Coming to alone, disorientated, remembered pain crowding through your head is not pleasant.

Shiro stumbles, muscles loose from stasis, his brain overcompensating for the sharp, rending agony it tells him should be shooting up his spine. Hunk reaches out automatically to catch him. The touch is light, but Shiro, disoriented, can’t stop his full-body flinch, or the awful catch in his breathing as he tries to stagger away.

The devastated expression that flashes across Hunk’s face hurts.

“Sorry, Shiro, I-“

“It’s fine,” Shiro cuts in, quickly, because it looks a little like Hunk might start crying. “I’m fine.”

There’s a soft, disbelieving sound from one of the other Paladins. Shiro ignores it.

No one tries to hug Shiro, the way they usually would. They aren’t crowding him either. Other than Hunk, the Paladins are clustered a careful distance from him, as if they’re being held back by some sort of invisible force-field. Part of Shiro hates it - hates the fact that they feel they need to be careful with him, hates how frightened they are, hates the painful evidence of what happened. The other part of him is absurdly grateful, because the thought of somebody touching him right now makes his skin crawl.

Shiro crosses his arms over his chest. As much as the Paladins are avoiding crowding him, their eyes are heavy against his skin. Shiro is dressed in only the thin material of the pod suit, clinging uncomfortably to every curve of his body. It’s not a pleasant sensation, being the centre of such focussed attention, especially not when he feels so exposed.

Worse, Shiro doesn’t remember getting into the suit. Doesn’t remember much after he had forced himself into his armour and let Hunk drag him out of that room. Maybe it was shock - a cold, fuzzy blanket over his brain. Maybe it was the head injury. Either way, he doesn’t remember it. Someone else must have changed him into it - although there’s no memory of that either. The thought is cold in his chest.

He isn’t even sure if he got the chance to shower. His memories are blurry, confused things. A flash of light in his eyes, arms around him, voices speaking urgently over his head. Shiro shivers. His skin itches and he has to curl his hands into fists to stop himself from scratching at his wrists, his legs.

Suddenly it’s all he can think about - the evidence of his attack stained across his skin. When Allura steps forward he takes an automatic step back. Can they smell him? Or is the stink of blood and sweat and sex just in his head?

“How are you feeling?” Allura asks, and she stops a careful distance away from him, hands folded in front of her. Does she know? She must do - even if she hadn’t heard it through the comms, the other Paladins must have had to explain it to her.

To his horror, Shiro’s eyes burn. He scrubs a hand across them to try to stem the sensation.

“A bit tired,” he says, from behind his own arm, and hopes that they’ll accept that for what it is. It’s more honest than he would normally admit to, but he doesn’t think he can say he’s fine again without someone calling him on it, and the last thing he wants to do right now is have to think about the way he actually feels. “Actually, I think I’m going to clean up and turn in.”

The silence that follows is heavy. “Of course, Shiro,” Allura says, finally, and Shiro drops his hand to offer her a strained smile.

“Thanks for being here when I got out, guys. I appreciate it.”

“Of course we’d be here, Shiro.” Hunk’s voice is tight. There’s an awful, wet quality to it that Shiro wishes he couldn’t hear.

“Right.” His smile feels rigid on his face. “Well, sorry for the early night. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for training.”

“Training?” Lance complains. “Are you sure we should…?”

At the same time Allura says, “Shiro, perhaps you shouldn’t…”

Shiro cuts them off. Because he knows what they’re going to say: perhaps he should take a break. And Shiro doesn’t want that. As much as the idea of training with the Paladins - of dealing with their attention and their caution and their sad, pitying looks - is unappealing, the alternative is worse.

If he holes himself up in his room, it means defeat, it means admitting that he’s been affected, it means that something’s wrong. He doesn’t need that. What he needs is to keep going, to keep busy. It’s worked for Shiro before - if he carries on as if everything is alright, then other people start to believe it, he starts to believe it.

“You aren’t getting out of training that easily, Lance.” Because it’s easy to deflect, even if the others aren’t convinced by it. “I’m fully healed now, so unless any of you have been hiding injuries, there’s no excuse. I expect to see you all there.”

No one objects, although Shiro can see that none of them are particularly happy about it. Shiro gets out of there before anyone can say anything else.

***

Shiro is awake well before anyone else the next morning. Mostly because he hadn’t actually gone to sleep. He had been tired. After a long, hot shower, Shiro could feel sleep dragging heavy on his eyes, had felt the fuzzy prickle at the back of his head.

But, honestly, Shiro had been scared. Even before, when Shiro’s worst memories had been vague flashes, disjointed pieces that Shiro hadn’t wanted to even attempt to fit back together, the nightmares were bad. Now, the memories were fresh and real and immediate. He could feel them crowding in his head, close against his skin. He knew exactly how bad his dreams would be. So he just hadn’t slept.

It won’t last forever. Shiro knows he’ll have to sleep eventually, nightmares or no nightmares, but if he can put it off, he will. If he can wear himself out enough, maybe he won’t have the energy to dream.

He takes another shower before he meets the Paladins in the training room. Scrubs hard enough to flush his skin pink beneath too hot water. Tries to wash away the sticky, sweaty sensation that he can’t seem to lose.

When Shiro pulls his armour on afterwards, his hands are shaking. It’s stupid - how many times has Shiro put this same armour on? How many times has he snapped the clasps shut with steady hands? Yet, that doesn’t stop the tremor of fear shivering over his skin. Doesn’t stop his breath coming quick and shallow.

The snap of the clasps echoes through his skull. Shiro feels rough hands at his ribs, claws digging into his hips. Feels teeth sharp against the back of his neck. Presses his own hands hard against his hips to try to stem the sensation.

It’s just his armour. Before...well, before, Shiro had always felt, if not exactly safe, at least not vulnerable, in it. It had been a barrier between himself and the rest of the world, a physical manifestation of his new role - of the fact that he was still alive, still fighting. Now he remembers how easily it had peeled apart, remembers the feel of unwanted hands sliding underneath it, remembers staining it with blood.

Stop it. Shiro needs to get a hold of himself. The other Paladins are waiting on him in the training room, he can’t fall apart over something as simple as his own armour.

He breathes, rough and ragged. Forces his hands steady. Presses the memories back into the overflowing box inside his head and turns the key. By the time he makes it to the training room, he’s the Black Paladin again and his armour is just that - armour - and nothing else.

***

It’s exactly as bad as Shiro had expected. The other Paladins are faltering, unsure. Their focus is on Shiro when it should be on the gladiator and Keith and Hunk won’t stop trying to get in between Shiro and the machine, as if he’s in any real danger.

When the gladiator closes a hand around Keith’s wrist and throws him to the ground Keith lands badly even though he should have been able to break the grip, and when he rolls back to his knees, his eyes are wide and white in his face. When Lance gets the opportunity to take the gladiator out, he hesitates. His hands shake.

“Take the shot, Lance,” Keith snarls, and the Blue Paladin startles. The shot goes wide.

Shiro ends the simulation there, before the gladiator can do any real damage.

“OK guys.” He runs a hand through his hair and tries not to let his frustration bleed into his voice. They should be better than this. “Obviously that wasn’t...great.”

Keith scowls. When Shiro sweeps his eyes over them, both Hunk and Lance look away, and Pidge is frowning too, turning her bayard over and over in her hands.

Shiro takes a deep breath and fights not to close his eyes. He should talk to them - he needs to talk to them. They’re hurting. But if Shiro acknowledges that fact, then he has to acknowledge that he’s hurting too, and right now that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“Listen, I know that our last mission was...that our last mission went badly.” It’s an understatement. Shiro bulldozes on before anyone can protest: “But that’s all the more reason to concentrate on training. All of us - we all need to be better prepared.”

Pidge and Lance share a look that Shiro can’t decipher. Something cold slides over his skin.

“We’ll leave it there for today so you guys can get your heads together, but I expect better tomorrow.”

“Shiro…” Pidge starts, and then stops, her mouth twisting, her bayard still turning in her hands. Shiro holds his breath, but Pidge doesn’t say anything else. She shares another look, with Hunk this time. Still, neither of them say anything.

“Go on then,” Shiro says and his throat is inordinately tight. “Before I change my mind.”

It’s difficult to tell what any of them are thinking. They hesitate and Shiro’s chest tightens. When they finally start to file out of the room, Keith throws Shiro a look that he carefully ignores.

“Lance can I talk to you for a second?”

Lance blinks, startled. Hesitates. Finally turns back into the room with an expression like Shiro had asked him to run laps rather than talk to him.

It’s not that he wants to talk to Lance any more than he wants to talk to anyone else. But if the Blue Paladin hesitates like that on a real mission, it could be the difference between life and death. And if Shiro keeps them carefully on topic, he might not have to talk about himself at all.

He hands Lance a water packet and takes a long sip of his own. Lance accepts it but doesn’t bother piercing the straw through, just worries it between his hands.

“You want to tell me what happened today?” Shiro asks, then winces. Too open-ended. Too much room for Lance to turn this around to Shiro.

But Lance doesn’t. He looks away. The water packet trembles beneath his fingers.

“Hey.” Shiro gentles his voice - tries to slip out of Black Paladin Shiro and into something more approachable. “I get it Lance. I get it. Killing someone, it…”

Lance looks up so sharply that Shiro’s words die in his mouth. The Blue Paladin’s face is very pale.

“I’m not upset that I - that I killed him.” He stumbles over the words, though. “If anyone deserves to die, it was him. I would do it again, if I could.”

“No, you wouldn’t Lance.” Shiro’s throat still feels swollen. “You’re not a killer.”

“I killed that Galra.”

“I know. I know Lance, I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“Don’t apologise,” Lance snaps. The water packet creaks in protest beneath his grip. “Don’t freaking apologise, Shiro. I’m not sorry I killed him, OK? I’m sorry - I’m sorry that I took so long to do it.”

“Lance-“

“We could - me and Pidge - we could hear -“ he makes a small, hurt sound. Shiro feels cold all over. “We knew you were in trouble and...if we’d been quicker maybe he wouldn’t have…”

“That’s not on you Lance. You got to us. You saved us. And you killed him, and that’s not nothing. It doesn’t matter how badly he deserved it - it’s still a weight that you don’t deserve.”

There’s no reply. Lance is staring at his feet, brows pulled low over his eyes.

“You hesitated today, with the gladiator,” Shiro tries, softly. Watches Lance’s shoulders tense.

“It won’t happen again.” Lance’s voice is thick, eyes still trained on the ground.

“I’m not worried about it happening again. I’m worried about why it happened. It’s OK to be upset, but you can’t let it affect you in the field. If you need to talk about it, you should.��

Hypocrite. It’s so hypocritical that Shiro could almost laugh - but it’s always been easier to deal with other people’s problems, other people’s emotions. Lance stares at his hands. His fingers flex.

“I don’t know why,” is what finally comes out. “It was just the gladiator, but when I - I don’t know. I saw him again, I guess. Saw him...hurting you. Saw his...body...I don’t…”

An awful sob bursts out of Lance’s throat. When he looks up, his eyes find Shiro’s, wet and dark.

“I don’t regret killing him.”

Shiro does.

***

That night, Shiro dreams.

It’s fragmented, confused - flashes of sights and sounds and sensations. Hands on his skin. Teeth in his neck. Fur and claws and hot breath. Pain burning impossibly deep inside him.

Shiro isn’t entirely sure where he is. He thinks he might be in his cell on the prison ship but something about that doesn’t seem right. He isn’t sure who’s with him - Sendak, maybe? - although something about that doesn’t seem right either.

There’s sand beneath his face. Blood in his mouth. Someone presses him into the floor of the arena, heavy at his back, and the crowd roars. They’re always roaring, always screaming - for blood, for death, for whatever they can take from him and more than that.

Shiro tries to fight, but his arms don’t work, and besides, it’s Keith at his back, forcing him into the ground. It’s Keith tearing him apart. Shiro can’t hurt him, he can’t.

Only he is - pressing Keith into the sand. Gripping his hips tight enough to bruise.

Champion, Champion, Champion, the crowd chants, and Shiro draws his Galra arm back and gives them what they want.

Shiro wakes up screaming.

The sound stays mostly trapped in his throat - comes out as a low, strangled moan instead. He gasps, chokes for air on his ragged inhale. Struggles to orient himself.

No sand. No crowd. No Keith. Just Shiro, tangled in his sheets, sweat slick against his skin, his Galra hand flickering with the fear thrumming through his veins.

It was just a dream. Shiro flexes his Galra hand, watches the fingers move. That didn’t...that didn’t happen. Keith isn’t hurt. He’s never had to feel arena sand beneath his feet. Never had to hear the roar of the crowd in his ears. Thorak didn’t hurt him. Shiro didn’t hurt him.

The iron taste of blood lingers on his tongue.

It’s not a surprise, exactly, that fragments of his year in captivity have tangled around with the assault in his head. But something about it sends a shiver of unease over him anyway. He traces a shaking hand over his chest, feels scars beneath the thin cotton of his vest. Feels claws, sliding under his armour. Shiro circles fingers around his wrists. Presses nails into the jagged, lightning-bolt scars where flesh meets metal. Brushes over the jut of his hips.

There aren’t any marks left - no bruises pressed into his skin, no stark white scars where Thorak’s claws had pierced flesh. There are scars there: a gnarled divot, as if someone had taken a chunk out of him, a criss-cross lattice of cuts scoured across his skin. Shiro traces them with shaking fingers.

They could be claw marks. Those little pinprick circles punched into his skin could be from teeth. Or, just as likely, they could be nothing. Someone could have held him down, pressed him into the arena sand or the cold metal floor of his cell, hurt him, and left no evidence behind at all. Shiro might never know.

It’s not the first time he’s wondered. It’s the first time he’s felt so sick with it, phantom pain throbbing in his guts. It’s the first time he’s had a memory to put with the awful fear - of exactly how bad it could be.

Shiro scrapes blunt nails over his skin and, for the first time, wishes he could forget.

***

Shiro is in one of the observation rooms when Keith finds him, leaning his head against the cool glass. Outside is an endless, fathomless darkness, dotted with stars. Shiro stares into that vast blackness and the hole in his chest feels a little less wide.

Shiro pulls his head away from the window when he hears him come in, but doesn’t turn towards his friend. He can see him in the reflection, wavering on the glass, hovering in the doorway, awkward and unsure in a way Keith rarely is. Something hot swells in Shiro’s throat. For some reason, Shiro feels his heart rate kick into higher gear, speeding beneath his chest. It leaves him dizzy.

It’s just Keith. However bad this conversation is going to be - it’s still just Keith.

Shiro takes a deep breath. In the reflection, he sees Keith’s face tighten, sees him take a decisive step into the room.

“Can’t sleep?”

Despite knowing Keith’s there, the quiet voice still startles him. Shiro grimaces, forces his face into something pleasantly neutral, then turns towards him.

“No, guess I couldn’t.” The smile is strained, but it’s there at least. “Did you need something?”

Keith doesn’t smile back. For no reason at all Shiro’s breath hitches.

“Shiro, can we -? I think we should talk.”

A long, slow breath. “Sure, what did you want to talk about?”

“Don’t. Don’t do that, Shiro. You know what I’m talking about.”

Of course he does. It’s not like there’s anything else to talk about except for the huge purple elephant in the room.

Still, it takes a surprising effort to keep his face blank.

“If you have something to say, Keith, you can.”

That has Keith’s face tightening. It’s probably not the right thing to say. It’s not the right way to handle this. If Shiro were a better leader, he would know exactly how to soothe Keith’s concern, - would never have let any of this happen in the first place.

But he’s not. Shiro’s not a leader right now. He’s not anything. All he wants to do is forget that anything ever happened. Push it to the back of his mind where he keeps all the other awful things the Galra have done, and go on as he had before.

But it’s difficult to do that when everyone else remembers it right along with him.

That year in captivity is something that the others barely know anything about - hell, Shiro barely remembers what happened during it. It’s easy to ignore it for the most part. The other Paladins probably don’t even think about it unless Shiro has a flashback. Even his arm is almost an afterthought these days. There’s something removed about the memories - as if they exist behind some screen in his head.

This is real and raw and painfully immediate.

“Shiro-“ Keith takes his own steadying breath. Shiro watches his chest rise and fall. Keith’s OK, he reminds himself for what seems like the hundredth time, whatever happens, Keith’s OK. “I just...I’m sorry.”

“What?” That isn’t at all what Shiro was expecting. Something cold slides through Shiro’s gut. “Why are you sorry?”

“Are you serious? If I hadn’t - if it wasn’t for me…”

“Keith. Stop it.” Nausea churns Shiro’s stomach. He should have seen this coming. But the idea still seems insane - that Keith could think anything that happened was because of him. That Keith would blame himself. He’s reminded uncomfortably of his earlier conversation with Lance: if we’d been quicker… “You’re not - Jesus. You’re not blaming yourself?”

“Of course I am! Shiro - you shouldn’t have done that for me. You should never have had to - to -“

“Listen Keith,” Shiro interrupts, sliding off of the window ledge to face him properly. He needs to make sure Keith understands this. It’s not acceptable for anyone but Shiro to be taking the responsibility for the calamity of a mission. “What happened wasn’t because of you, OK? Thorak didn’t hurt me instead of hurting you, he...hurt me because he wanted to. If you hadn’t been there it might have been Hunk, or Lance, or whoever was convenient.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, coldly. “And if you hadn’t been there he would have raped me like he’d intended.”

Despite everything, hearing the word, cold and flat and real, is a shock. It hits Shiro like a physical blow. Until now, Shiro hasn’t really allowed himself to think the word. And that’s stupid - it’s stupid - because not thinking it doesn’t change what happened. Not having a name for the awful violence enacted upon him doesn’t make it hurt any less. Doesn’t help him stop thinking about it, stop dreaming about it, stop feeling it.

It doesn’t stop him struggling with it.

Which is stupid too, because the rape isn’t even the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. When they had taken his arm it had been with the same callous disregard for his consent, it had been another painful invasion of his body, his soul. This shouldn’t hurt any more than that. At least this time he was protecting someone he loves.

And yet…

Keith doesn’t even have that baseline. He’s not...damaged like Shiro is. The thought of Thorak hurting Keith like that is horrific. Just the image of his hands on him, of that malicious intent, is bad enough.

“I know, Keith.” Shiro deserves his coldness, his anger. It was Shiro’s fault they were even in that position in the first place. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I let that happen to you.”

“What?” Keith’s mouth gapes. “You’re apologising? Jesus, Shiro, that’s not what I meant.”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant Keith. I put you in danger and -“

“Stop it!” The anger in Keith’s voice pulls Shiro up short. He can’t help flinching. There’s the same wet catch to the words as...as when…

The memory rolls over Shiro like a wave: Keith, screaming on the floor, Hunk’s voice, high and scared. Stop it! Get off of him! Hot, foul breath against his cheek.

Someone touches his arm - Keith, his mind supplies, even as his muscles tense with fear.

“Shiro?”

When Shiro blinks back into awareness, Keith is right in front of him, pale and concerned, one hand resting tentatively on the curve of Shiro’s bicep.

“Are you OK? What happened?”

The anger is gone. Shiro doesn’t particularly like the thready concern it’s been replaced with.

“Nothing.” Shiro shrugs off Keith’s hand. A hot imprint of it tingles on his skin, like a brand, long after Keith drops it to his side. Shiro swallows, hard, furious with himself. “It’s nothing.”

There’s doubt painted across Keith’s face, but, because it’s Keith, he doesn’t push it. Shiro is absurdly grateful.

“Shiro I’m not angry with you,” Keith says instead, softly, and Shiro has to look away. To his horror, he can feel the hot prickle of tears behind his eyes. There’s a soft huff. “Well, I am angry with you. But not because I think anything that happened was your fault.”

“I’m your leader. I’m responsible for everything that happens on a mission-“

“You’re not responsible for some sick freak deciding he wants to - to rape me.” He stumbles over the word this time, Shiro notes, feeling a little sick. “How could I blame you for that? You saved me Shiro. You - that’s why I’m angry.”

Shiro blinks. He’s lost control of this conversation somehow. Isn’t actually sure he’s ever had it. Keith runs a hand through his hair and huffs another frustrated breath.

“I get wanting to protect us, but this isn’t the same as taking a hit from a gladiator, or taking point on a dangerous mission.” Keith’s voice rises with every word. “He raped you Shiro. He - God - he raped you.”

There are tears on Keith’s cheeks, wet in his voice. Shiro feels strangely numb.

“Why did you do it Shiro? You think I wanted to watch him do that to you? Knowing that it was you instead of me? I wish - I wish it had been me -“

“Keith.” There’s an awful roiling nausea curling Shiro’s stomach. In contrast, his voice is oddly calm. “I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.” Then, quickly, before Keith can interrupt him: “But I won’t apologise for what I did. If I have to I’ll do it again. For any of you.”

“Why, Shiro? You think any of us want that? You think we want you to sacrifice yourself for us?”

“I don’t care what you want!” It’s loud. Too loud. Too angry. Keith recoils, shrinking back from his sudden fury. “This isn’t up for discussion. You’re a fucking kid Keith, all of you are! And you’re my responsibility. If you think I’m going to sit by and watch whilst someone - someone - rapes you -“

The tears Shiro had felt threatening behind his eyes well up, hot and shameful, spilling over his cheeks. He chokes.

“Not if I can do something about it. I would rather have died than watch you go through that. I would have let him rape me a hundred times if it meant he wouldn’t touch you.”

Keith looks like he’s trying not to be sick. “Don’t you think I feel the same?”

“It’s not the same! Keith, you - all of you - you’ve got a chance for a normal life after this. You don’t deserve to be here. You don’t deserve to have to fight or hurt or worry about being tortured or - or raped.”

Shiro takes a shuddering breath. In front of him, Keith is still and silent and white-faced.

“I’m - I’m already fucked up, OK? The Galra already took away my chance for a normal life. And after some of the things I did in the arena, I’m not sure I deserve one. But you’ve still got a chance. I’ll do anything to keep it that way.”

“Shiro…”

Keith’s voice is very soft. Shiro presses a hand over his eyes to try to stem the tears - to block out Keith’s face so he won’t have to see the disgust there. But he can’t stop the sob that bubbles out of his throat - an awful, wet, gasping thing that Shiro hates.

“Shiro.”

A feather-light touch on his wrist. Shiro drops his hand, irrationally afraid of those fingers closing around him. When his vision clears, Keith is right in front of him, shockingly close. Shiro can’t stop his flinch, or the tight, shocked sound that bursts out of his throat.

“You’re wrong Shiro,” Keith says, softly, ignoring Shiro’s overreaction. Then he leans forward and presses their foreheads together, a firm pressure. Shiro waits for the fear. For the memories. He can feel Keith’s breath, hot on his face. Is painfully aware of bare skin against skin. But Keith doesn’t put his arms around him - doesn’t hold him still or press himself closer. Shiro could step away if he wanted to. But he doesn’t. Because it’s Keith, it’s just Keith.

“You deserve a normal life, Shiro. You shouldn’t have to fight either. You shouldn’t have had to deal with the Galra. You didn’t deserve it.”

Another sob bursts out of Shiro’s throat. He drops his head to press it against Keith’s collarbone instead and his friend turns to rest his cheek on the top of Shiro’s skull and still carefully doesn’t touch him.

“You didn’t deserve any of it, Shiro. Not the arena, not the - the arm, not the-“ a wet swallow that, so close, Shiro can’t avoid hearing, “not the rape.”

Shiro huffs a soft sound against Keith’s shoulder. “I know Keith.”

A hand finally closes around his arm, fingers tight against his skin. Shiro tenses but doesn’t shake it off.

“I’m serious Shiro. It wasn’t your fault. I’m - I’m sorry for...I don’t know - for getting so angry, for acting like you had some sort of choice.” Keith presses his cheek harder into Shiro’s head. “I just...I am angry. Not at you. At this whole situation, I guess. At that fucking bastard who raped you. I don’t know how to handle...this.”

Shiro presses his head hard enough against Keith’s collarbone to hurt. He wants to make this better. He wants to stop Keith from hurting. But honestly, Shiro isn’t entirely sure how to handle this either. It’s clear that, as much as he might want to, Shiro isn’t going to be allowed to pretend this never happened.

“It’s OK to be angry Keith,” is what he finally settles on. It’s not exactly what he wants to say, but it’s true, at least. Then, in a fit of honesty that he immediately wishes he could take back: “I’m angry.”

The hand on his arm tightens. There’s a quick, startled breath.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says quickly. “I shouldn’t have-“

“Don’t apologise. You should talk about it. I want you to talk about it. I can handle it, Shiro. I’m not going to think less of you for - for being upset about this. No one will.”

It’s a strange role reversal - almost the exact same thing he had said to Lance - but, even so, it’s hard to see how they couldn’t. As close as he is with the other Paladins, Shiro’s always kept a careful barrier between them - even with Keith. It’s both a necessity of command and a personal preference on Shiro’s part. He’s meant to be strong, to be - not infallible, maybe - but someone who can be relied upon. Someone the other Paladins don’t need to support. The last thing he wants is to expose his own weakness like this. It’s bad enough that they know about the rape - about how vulnerable he was forced to be. It’s bad enough that Keith and Hunk had to watch it. He doesn’t want to burden them with all his awful insecurities too.

But if Keith had...if it had been Keith, Shiro knows that he would be furious if he felt the same way. He would be hurt that Keith couldn’t confide in him. It’s not quite the same, and maybe it’s not the healthiest way to think about it either, but Shiro’s throat swells hot and tight nonetheless.

“It’s not fair,” is what finally chokes its way out. The grip on his arm loosens, but only so Keith can slide a careful arm around Shiro’s back instead, giving him plenty of time to pull away. Shiro doesn’t, although he doesn’t put his arms around him in return. Just shuts his eyes and listens to Keith breathe steadily by his ear.

“It’s not fair. I’m tired of being hurt, of being...used. Of feeling like I’m -“ He flexes his metal hand, feels the way the fingers twist and bend, a strange, foreign implement welded onto his flesh, his brain. Keith’s arm tightens. “Like I’m not in control of my body. Like it’s not...mine.”

There’s a soft sound above his head but Keith doesn’t say anything, and Shiro is grateful, because he’s honestly not sure what there is to say.

“I’m tired of feeling like I deserve it.”

“I’m sorry, Shiro,” Keith finally murmurs, because maybe that’s the only thing he can say. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Keith’s OK, Shiro reminds himself, through the tears burning in his throat, listening to his friend breathe steadily against him. Whatever happens, Keith’s OK.

#Voltron legendary defender #shiro #keith #Lance #hunk #Pidge #allura #fanfiction #My writing #rape tw #nightmares tw #flashback tw #ptsd tw #hurt/comfort

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silvertip-studio · 5 years

Text

Promise of a Thief

Fandom: Voltron

Pairing: Keith x Lance

Requested by: @shiranai-atsune

Summary: Keith is a beat cop who is sick and tired of chasing down the same shoplifter seemingly everyday. However, in the world of cops and robbers, love can be found in the unlikeliest of places.

Words: 827

“C’mon, not again.” Keith groaned as he watched the all-too-familiar shoplifter take off through the back door of the store. He could hear the shop owner shouting at him to chase after him. With a sigh, Keith holstered his gun and sprinted off after the perpetrator. When he reached the back, bursting through the heavy door with a grunt, he couldn’t see the crook anywhere. So, he took his best guess and continued his pursuit.

He was part way down the alley heading back to the street when he heard a crate of something fall from the alley in the opposite direction. Keith came to a screeching halt, and turned to race after the sound. The maze of back alleyways seemed endless as Keith chased the retreating footsteps of Lance McClain. As he rounded a corner just in time to see the Cuban man scrambling over a fence, Keith grumbled, “When I catch him, I’m gonna fuckin’ strangle him!” However, he didn’t let his complaining delay him in any way. Instead he climbed the fence with speed, and landed on the other side only a few paces back from Lance.

Keith felt like he was chasing this man every single day, and he was sick of it. So, he found himself closing the distance between them faster than usual, determined that this would be the last time. When he finally got close enough, he grabbed Lance by the arm. “Stop!” he shouted, shoving Lance against the nearest wall.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Lance put his free hand up in surrender, the back of his hand scratching roughly against the brick wall, “Relax, I surrender, buddy,” he chuckled, flashing a bright grin at Keith and putting his hand on his shoulder.

“This is the last time, Lance.” Keith sighed, still holding Lance against the wall, “No more stealing.”

“I don’t think so,” Lance smirked, plucking Keith’s hand from his wrist and slipping away from him. However, before Lance could get far, Keith pulled him back and pushed him against the wall again. His usual scowl deepening in frustration.

“No, Lance, it’s over.” Keith took one hand off of Lance, reaching for the handcuffs at his waist.

“Whoa, no, no, no! I’ll give it back, all of it!” Lance’s eyes widened and he raised his hands in sincere surrender. “Please?” he pleaded, bringing his hands down and pressing his palms together in mock prayer. Keith pressed his lips together, staring unconvinced at Lance.

“Gimme what you stole,” Keith demanded, holding out his hand to Lance. Quickly, Lance piled two packs of gum, a Snickers bar, a Reese’s peanut butter cup, beef jerky, and a small toy water gun into Keith’s hands. The police officer simply stared at it all in dismay. “Why the fuck did you steal…this?”

“I was hungry.”

“The water gun?”

“Impulse?”

“You’re the worst, did you know that?” Keith grumbled.

“Shut up, you love me.” Lance leaned forward and planted a firm kiss on Keith’s lips. For a second, Keith pressed back into the kiss, a pleased hum rumbling in his chest. Then, he remembered where they were, and pulled away abruptly. “What!?”

“Not here, Lance.” Keith backed away from him clutching the stolen goods to his chest and blushing as he turned away from his boyfriend.

“Oh, come on, when are you going to tell people about us?” Lance cried, his playful tone replaced by frustration.

“When you stop stealing.” Keith turned on his heel and started marching back towards the shop he had chased Lance from. Before he could make it far, Lance grabbed him by the arm and spun him so that they were face to face. The pile of snacks nearly fell from Keith’s arms at the sudden jolt, but he somehow managed to maintain his hold on them. “What?”

“I’m done.”

“What?”

“This is the last time, I swear.” Lance’s voice was low, sincere. “No more stealing.” Keith’s eyes widened at the promise, and now he did drop the mountain of stolen items to the dirty alley floor. They hadn’t even clattered to the ground before Keith’s hands were on Lance’s face pulling him into a kiss.

When Keith pulled back he whispered against Lance’s lips, “You promise?”

Lance nodded, leaning in to kiss Keith again.

“No, I need to hear you say it.” Keith resisted, a frown beginning to turn down the corners of his mouth.

“I promise.” Lance assured, resting his forehead against Keith’s. As soon as the words had passed Lance's lips, Keith released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. They stayed like that for what felt like forever, yet when Keith finally pulled away it didn’t feel like enough time.

“I’ve gotta go return all of this.” Keith scooped up the scattered pile of food and turned to return to the store. “You’re coming over tonight, right?” he asked, keeping his eyes forward, despite throwing the question over his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

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squirenonny · 6 years

Note

How you even get people interested your fics, asking for a friend thanks

Aw, man, isn’t that a question for the ages?

So I’m gonna preface this by saying that there’s no magic quick-fix to attract more readers (however much we all wish there were.) Writing for the big ships or posting a fic featuring a popular trope/AU when it’s popular is going to get you more readers than writing niche fics, but chasing trends isn’t going to make you happy and it might even hurt the quality of your work. When you post and whether there was some big fandom or IRL event that drew attention away from the newly published pages (or flooded them, burying your fic under ten pages of Klance week ficlets or whatever) can also play a big role.

Secondly, and I know you’re probably not going to like hearing this, try not to worry too much about numbers like hits/kudos/bookmarks/reviews. They don’t mean as much as you think, and they aren’t a reflection on your skill as a writer or the value of your story. The best thing to do is to find some other way to measure success–maybe it’s how many words you’ve written, maybe it’s whether you stick to a consistent update schedule. Maybe it’s reaching that scene you’ve been dying to write for forever. But make sure it’s something that’s in your control, because depending on the faceless masses for validation sucks, and you deserve better.

Okay, on to some advice for attracting readers.

1. Rework your summary. Confession time: I hate writing summaries. Hate it. I’m already not good with short form and trying to sum up a story in a hundred words or less is even worse. But it’s one of the most important skills for a writer to learn, since it’s your one shot to get people interested enough to click that link. If you’re stuck, here are some suggestions, with examples of how I’ve used them for my own stories.

Pick a (short!) excerpt from your piece. Maybe a brief exchange of dialogue, maybe the opening line, maybe something else. It should be something that doesn’t require context to understand and that makes people want to find out what happens next (or what led up to this moment.) Example:

This psychic—Lance the Lucid, according to the posters, and Keith wasn’t even going to comment on that—was a charlatan, plain and simple, and Keith kind of wanted to punch him. Sure, Lance knew how to put on a show, but Keith doubted there was anything more to the act than charm and dramatic flair.

Pidge sighed, catching Keith’s eyes. “At this point, they’re pretty much our only hope.”

If you’re writing an AU, especially a canon divergence AU, put the focus on what you’re changing. Example:

Shiro used to dream of Earth. That was before the Arena, before Haggar, before he joined the Galra army. At least he has an ally, a Galra officer named Keith. Together they plan to bring down Zarkon’s empire from the inside.

Matt never thought he’d see his family again. Then he crash-lands on Earth and Pidge rescues him from Garrison custody. But his homecoming is short-lived. Now the Holt siblings, along with Lance and Hunk, must find the Voltron lions and free the universe from Galra control.

Or: Galra!Keith, double agent!Shiro, red paladin!Matt, black paladin!Allura, full series AU.

If you’re writing something tropey, or a twist on a cliche, maybe highlight that. Example:

[following a short description of plot] Canonverse Soulmate AU with romantic and platonic soulmates (and some gray areas in between)

Sometimes the simplest thing to do, especially for shorter stories, is to do a one-two punch in your summary. The set-up and the punchline. The scenario and the twist. The status quo and the catastrophe. Think “Long ago, the four nations lived in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.” Or better yet, the next part of that intro–defining the Avatar and then hitting us with “and then he vanished for a hundred years whoops.” Whatever you do, keep it short. Example:

When Keith was seven years old, he spent a year in La Quinta with a boy named Lance, the best friend he ever had. Ten years later, Lance and Keith reunite at the Garrison–only Keith doesn’t remember who Lance is.

The most important thing to keep in mind is that shorter is (usually) better, but you want to include enough to hook readers’ attention. It’s hard, I know, but keep working at it and it’ll get easier. Seriously–write five completely different summaries for your fic, all under 100 words. Give yourself a 5 or 10 minute limit for each so you don’t agonize too much. Set them aside for a while, then come back and see what works. Or write a list of all the things you’re most excited about in a given piece, cut out any major spoilers, and try to work one or two of the others into your summary.

2. Be strategic about your tags. If you’re posting on AO3, use tags people are going to search. Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, any tropes that feature prominently, any relationships (especially gen ones) that are a major focus. Be wary of overtagging–Shatt shippers, for example, know all too well how common it is to search for Shatt and turn up only Klance fics with a passing mention of Shiro and Matt going on a date. But plenty of people search for specific tags in trying to find new stories. Use that.

Similarly, if you post on Tumblr, use your tags efficiently. The first five tags on a post are the ones that the post will show up in (i.e. if you have a tag tracker or go to tumblr.com/tagged/____) Tumblr’s search looks at the first twenty tags, I believe. So use your first five tags for either the most popular or the most niche aspects of your fic. (i.e. tagging it “klance” will have a larger potential audience, though it’ll get buried pretty quickly; tagging “matt holt” or “shatt” gives you a much smaller potential audience, but one that’s more starved for content so will probably click your link at a higher rate.) Prioritize, and leave your organization tags/tag commentary for after.

3. Your first chapter should pack a punch. This one may be a little harder to put into practice if you have an existing fic you’re trying to drum up interest in, but it’s worth keeping in mind. If your summary and tags get people through the door, your first chapter (in a multichapter fic)/your first few paragraphs (for any fic) is where people decide whether or not this is worth reading. Goals to strive for:

Your first line, or at most your first paragraph, should hook reader’s interest. It should ask an implicit question–what’s happening? How did we get here?

(the equivalent of) Your first page (a couple hundred words, tops) should establish the situation and forward momentum. Diving straight into action with no context can be confusing, but lingering too long on exposition can make people tune out before they get to the good part. I’ve heard it said that the first 250 words should establish three things: character, context, and motive. Who are we focused on, what’s happening right now, and why does it matter? There are exceptions to every rule, of course, but make sure you know why you’re deviating if you decide to do so.

Your first chapter (assuming you have more than one) should leave people wanting more. Don’t leave them in the middle of the set-up, or they may not be motivated to continue. But don’t give them everything they need to see where this is going, or they won’t bother waiting to find out.

**Update: There’s now a follow-up post talking a little bit more about how to start a story, with examples!**

4. Persistence is key. Out of all the advice I can give you, this one’s going to be the hardest to follow, I’m sure. It can feel like you’re throwing words at a void and getting nothing back. Sometimes you have a real slow start. Sometimes you’re writing self-induldgent rarepare stuff, and it seems like you and two other people are the only ones who ship it–and those other two never comment.

The thing is, writing fic (especially as a newcomer or writing niche fic) is like playing Marco Polo at a death metal concert. Not only are you shouting into a sea of noise, but you’re also trying to find the relative handful of people who are going to answer. But here’s the thing: if you yell “Marco” once and get no response, then go home, you’ll never find those other people. If you keep yelling–maybe stay in one spot and yell over and over, maybe wander around calling out every so often–you’ll find someone, and then you’ll find someone else, and then maybe someone else will start shouting with you and find three more people. It starts slow, but it builds momentum.

In terms of fic, though, what does that mean? It means keep writing. Maybe keep hammering away at this one fic–excellent if it’s something you’re excited about, something you need to write no matter what. You keep putting it out there and you’ll start to beat back the wave of random chance that conspires to bury your fic because of weird posting times or an onslaught from a fandom event.

Maybe write a bunch of shorter fics, participate in bangs and exchanges and other events. You might hook readers with your Klance soulmate AU that you did for a secret santa, then tempt them into trying your other stuff (true story.) You might make friends by chatting in a big bang’s discord, and they can help you write more attention-grabbing summaries, or can signal boost on Tumblr. (Or just be that one person who stans your writing and keeps you motivated through low hit counts on AO3.) Or you might just hit a whole bunch of people’s rarepair/nich buttons and start building a following that way.

Or maybe it means going a little more off the rails. Try a different fandom. Write original fiction. Write an 80k Marauders-at-Hogwarts fic for yourself, edit it, and only then start posting a chapter a week so you can grow your reader base without the low number of comments chipping away at your motivation because joke’s on you, hit counter. I already have the next chapter done. And the one after that, and all of them, so they’re still coming even if no one’s reading. ha-ha! (Also a true story.)

Look, the point is, building a reader base is hard, and it’s frustrating, and a lot if it is based on luck and fandom trends, and you’re always going to want to get caught up in the numbers. Even once you have readers, you might get frustrated because the tropey shipfic with a shoddy plot that you BS’d your way through has ten times as much love as the lovingly crafted, well-plotted AU that you’ve poured literally thousands of hours into. Because writers are all starved for feedback, and with the exception of people lucky enough (or unlucky enough) to hit a fandom sweet spot and get shot straight into the realms of That One Fic Everyone Knows About–with the exception of those freak accidents of fate, the people who have sizable followings are almost always people who just plain love to write and do it regardless of what anyone else says or does.

So don’t write for the readers. Write for yourself first, and love what you write. Write stories that need to be told. Stories you can’t bear not to tell–because when you care that much about a story, it shows, and when the right people find your story, they’re going to love that you love it. Trust me. The right people are out there. You just have to keep shouting until you find them.

#anon #answers #writing #advice #writing advice #long post

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pineapplekeith · 6 years

Text

House Cat - Pt. 4

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Pairing: Klance

Universe: Modern Earth/Fantasy

Rating: T (language)

Word Count: 3K+

Part: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ]

Summary: Werecats are hard to find outside of lab facilities now-a-days and Lance has had a suspicion that a small stray that comes by his house now and then is one when he noticed a new face around town around the same time. / Modern AU setting with werecats for fun and seriousness now and then. Klance heavy with Garrison Trio and maybe some more ships making an appearance later on.

A/N: So far, this has been well liked on AO3 and FF so I decided to post the full parts on here. Links to AO3 and FF are on my story blog @kal-i-ka-stories

Over by the television, Lance was in the middle of winning his third game against the game’s computer system. Once the screen announced his victory, his phone vibrated in his pocket, alerting him that he had a new text message. Lance glanced at the time on the cable box. It’s too late to be mamá or pops. He then looked over his shoulder. Seeing that everyone was busy with something, Lance dug through his jacket pocket for his phone.

::::::::::

Unknown Number: You weren’t home. We need to talk. -Keith

::::::::::

...::::..::::..::::..

Cold.

Keith peeked out from under his covers. He squinted his eyes when the light from the rising sun peeking through the plastic on his apartment windows hit his face. He then fully crawled out from under his covers and stretched out his legs and back. He sat down on his bed and scratched at his ear before grooming himself.

Down below he could hear a door slam and soon after, someone was banging at his floor from the lower level. “Wake up kid! We open in two hours and you need to get down here and clean. You better hurry or you won’t get any breakfast!”

Yeah, I know.

He then sat still on his bed and concentrated for a bit. Once he opened his eyes, the cold of the room hit his body like knives. “Yeah, I’m up! I’ll be down in a minute!” Keith yelled back as he raised his arms and stretched his back. He flinched as his foot touched the cold hardwood, but he pushed through and got ready for the day.

Keith’s one room apartment was just that. A one room apartment. There were two doors on either side of the room, one leading down stairs to the shop below and the other being the main entrance that lead to a staircase outside. He had a twin-size bed in one corner with a night stand next to it. There was a small table over by the half kitchen in the corner across from the bed with only one chair tucked underneath. There was another door across from the kitchen that led to a bathroom that just contained the bare minimum to make the space livable and next to it in a corner was a standard size dresser. The windows in the room over looked the beach from across the street, but the view wasn’t much since the sky always looked gloomy this time of year. Then again, Keith couldn’t fully see the view since putting plastic up on his window to block out the cold air.

Keith quickly went through his morning routine and put on a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and his usual pair of sneakers. He grabbed his red jacket off the back of the chair at his kitchen table before walking down stairs to the shop. The shop wasn’t much to look at, just like his upstairs apartment. After Keith walked through the door at the end of the tunnel of stairs he was met with a dull, sad nautical themed restaurant that was clearly just getting by. He turned to walk behind the bar and grabbed a broom to start his opening chores.

“About time. I was starting to wonder if you were ever coming down.” The owner of the shop said from the grill. The smell of sausage and eggs filled the area around him.

“Sorry, had a hard time finding something clean to wear.” Keith lied. He just didn’t hurry because he knows it doesn’t take him two hours to open the shop like it did his boss before he started working there.

“Whatever. Dirty or not, it’ll still smell like fish at the end of the day with the sea-salts we get in here.” The owner said, not really caring for Keith’s excuse. “Hurry and finish so I can feed you. Mother found out that I forgot some of your lunches at home and got mad at me when they turned out to be bad.” Even though the owner seemed tough around the edges, he did care enough about Keith to give him a place to stay and work, but his wife cared a bit more. His boss would always complain about how his wife would always scold him about not feeding Keith enough. Keith did agree with her on that, but werecat naturally ate more than humans to replace the energy lost when shifting. But he couldn’t say that, it would give himself away and he probably would end up back at a lab, so he ate whatever his boss thought was enough. “Oh, and here’s your allowance,” the owner said as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a $20 bill and put it on the bar for Keith. “I still don’t understand why she insist on giving it to you. I already pay and feed you and you don’t go out like a normal kid your age so I don’t know what you’ll do with it.”

“Don’t know, but thanks.” Keith mumbled as he continued to sweep the floor of the shop. His boss did have a point, Keith didn’t really go out and only used a fraction of his allowance and pay for a small amount of groceries. But he did have a plan for the left-over money. After moving in, Keith knew that he couldn’t live above the shop forever. He’s still missing the important stuff he would need to be treated like a normal person and live a normal life on the outside. Keith still needed to get the proper forms of identification before he could even think about moving to a new place or a new town and the only way to do that was to pay for it.

“Well, over the years, I’ve just learned to just shut my mouth and let her do what she wants. With the kids and grandkids having their own lives, she’s probably just happy to have someone she can spoil, whether I like it or not.”

So, the old man actually has kids. Didn’t know that.

Keith finished sweeping up the shop and then went to take the chairs off the tables after picking up his allowance from the bar. The morning just continued quietly. Keith finished setting up the shop, ate what he thought was a small breakfast with his boss, and then unlocked the door and set up the outside of the shop.

“Hey Keith, Val has you working this early again?” Someone called out from behind Keith as he was writing the day’s seafood special on the blackboard stand.

Keith looked behind him to see a small group of the usual fishermen that would come by the shop in the morning. “Yeah, it’s like this every morning,” Keith responded as he went back to finish writing on the board.

“That old bastard needs to let you be a kid occasionally.” The head of the group said before they walked in.

I never was one so why be one now. Keith thought to himself as he set up the chalkboard. He then walked in and went behind the bar. The men were already seated at the bar and Keith’s boss was cooking their usual breakfast orders on the grill. Keith tied his hair back in a small ponytail before gathering up three coffee mugs. “Black, two shots of milk, and a pack of sugar and a shot of cream, right?” Keith ask as he walked over to the coffee station behind the bar.

“Val, you need to give the kid a raise.” One of the men said, amazed at Keith’s memory with how they all liked their coffee.

“I already pay him and Ellie keeps giving him an allowance. He’s good.” Val responded as he continued cooking.

“Ok, then give him a day off.”

“Yeah Val. The closest he gets to a day off is when its slow and you close early.”

“He doesn’t need a day off.” Val responded, getting a little annoyed with his customers’ badgering. “Keith working here is how he’s paying rent. Besides, he doesn’t mind it. Do you kid?”

“Not at all.” Keith said as he finished making the coffees and brought them over to the guest.

“See, he’s fine. Now leave him alone or you jackasses aren’t getting food.” Val said, ending the conversation.

The fishermen decided to leave the conversation there, all three of them still finding it funny to pick on Val’s nerves. The morning continued with Val talking to the three men about how their business on the water was going and Keith just staying out of the way and keeping himself busy. The shop was always slow, with most of the customers being the local sea-salts on that side of town and the older population of the town that would stop by during their morning walks. It would sometimes get a different clientele in the afternoons, but it was usually just people who were wondering by or curious about what was inside the building. Keith and his boss had a system that they kept to everyday. Keith would clean and take the orders in the dining area and handle all the drinks while Val would only worry about his loyal customers at the bar and the grill. It was an unfair balance of work, but it was one that Keith agreed to and didn’t mind doing.

“Hey kid, get out here and work,” Val yelled out through the small window in the wall between the shop and back room.

Keith was in the back washing a few dishes that were left by his last group of customers. He looked at the clock on the wall and noticed that it was already the afternoon; random stragglers were starting to come in. “Coming,” Keith yelled back as he started to dry his hands. Once he walked out, Keith grabbed his notepad off the edge of the bar and scanned the room for the new patron.

Shit.

Over at one of the tables by the window was a group of teenagers around Keith’s age, which was a strange thing to have in the shop. But sitting at the table with the small group was the last person Keith wanted to see. Lance was sitting by the window and looked to be uninterested in his friends’ conversation while he looked out at the unimpressive view. Keith tried to keep himself together as he walked over to the table, hoping that Lance wouldn’t notice him and say something.

“Are you all ready?” Keith asked as he walked up to the table, getting his notepad ready. Just like the rest of the customers that Keith would wait on, the first two people to order were just a blur to him as he wrote down their orders.

“I would like to have a milkshake please.” One of the teens said as she read over the menu.

Keith looked up at her and instantly got a chill down his spine. She smells weird. Keith thought to himself as he looked at the girl for a moment before writing down her request. He didn’t understand why she gave him a chill, she didn’t look threatening. But he knew it wasn’t a good one and needed to keep his distance.

“Lance what are you getting?” The guy sitting next to Lance asked him as he bumped his shoulder.

Keith kept his head down, hoping that not making eye contact would make Lance notice him less.

“I’ll just have a milkshake.”

Keith then quickly turned away and walked back to the bar before Lance could finish his sentence. Out of all the places him and his friends could come to, why come all the way out here? Keith thought to himself as he walked over to hand Val the order that he just took. He then walked over to his drink station and got to work, thinking that the quicker they were served, the quicker they would leave.

“Hey,” Lance said in a hushed tone.

Shit!

“Go away.” Keith said sternly as he topped off the two sodas that were ordered.

“So you did notice me.” Lance said with a slight bounce in his voice.

Keith cut his eyes up at him for a moment, annoyed to see Lance’s smirk. “I’m working, go away.” He warned again, getting irritated with Lance’s pestering.

Keith walked over to the small fridge and pulled out a carton of milk and the tub of ice cream from the freezer. He could feel Lance watch him and he put the ingredients for the milkshakes together in the blender. “How have you been?” Just fine. Now shut up. “You just left and then never came back so I’ve been a bit worried.” Don’t be. I’m not your damn cat. Now shut it! “I haven’t told anyone you know.” Who would believe you if you did? Keith then turned on the blender, running it a bit longer than what was needed just to enjoy the moment of Lance’s silence. Keith stopped the blender and then went to grab two cups to pour the milkshake mixture in. “You said you came over to be fed and get warm, right?” What other reason was there? “Well,” Lance then reached behind the bar to grab something, “if you want to come over again, just let me know. You can come by however you want.”

Keith continued to pour the milkshakes into Styrofoam cups before looking at what Lance was holding. He was holding out a napkin that he had picked up from behind the bar and Keith could see a series of numbers written on it. That seemed to really strike a chord in Keith. He looked at Lance before snatching the napkin out of his hand and threw it in the small trashcan behind him. “I told you to forget what happened. I’m not a charity case. I don’t need to be pitied. Leave me alone.” Keith tried his hardest to keep his cool while saying that. For most of his life, he didn’t have one. And even though the one he had now wasn’t perfect, it was his and he was not going to have someone pity him. Even though the old man and his wife took him in out of pity, they were at least making him work for his bed and figure things out on his own. All they were to Keith were his landlords and bosses. They never gave him serious handouts and Keith respected them for that.

After feeling that he made his point across, Keith then grabbed the milkshakes and put them on a small tray with the other drinks and walked around the bar with them. Leaving Lance behind to take in what he said. He dropped off all the drinks at the table and instantly turned to walk back to the bar, Lance bumping his shoulder as they passed each other. What are you, a child? Keith thought to himself as he looked back at Lance before going to the back to finish his dishes.

Keith tried to stay in the back as much as he could while Lance and his friend were in the shop. Luckily, they didn’t need anything after Keith dropped off their two food orders and he was able to just wait on the usual customers he and Val would get each day. “Hey kid, you have empties,” Val called out through the window, telling Keith that one of his tables were empty. He finished washing the few coffee mugs he had in the sink and put them on the rack to dry before walking out. The shop was completely empty at this point, with the only table that needed clearing was the one that Lance and his friends were at. Keith grabbed the dish bin from behind the bar and headed toward the table to clear it. For a table full of teens, it was surprisingly clean. The plates were already stacked for Keith and they even left a tip behind for him. Keith put the dishes that were on the table in the bin and collected the tip, finding a piece of paper with a note written on it under the bills.

‘You should really give my friend a chance. He’s really a nice guy. At least be friends with him. You look like you need some.’

Underneath the note was a phone number that looked like the one that Lance wrote earlier. Keith reread the note a couple of times, trying to figure out which of Lance’s friend was watching their conversation earlier and wrote it. He noted that it didn’t smell like the one friend that gave him a chill, so at least that narrowed it down a bit. Keith then decided to give up on the mystery and shoved the money and the note in his pocket with the rest of his tips from the day. He quickly wiped down the table and walked back to the bar to collect any other dishes that he needed to wash.

“I don’t know what happened between you and that guy from earlier, but at least I see that you actually meet people outside of here now and then.” Val called out when Keith got to the bar. He was busy scrubbing the grill top clean, using the moment to his advantage so he could close early.

“He was just an idiot that bugs me. It won’t happen again.” Keith explained as he collected some dishes that were used during the early dinner period.

“I’m not complaining. I know I didn’t show it this morning, but I really do worry about you isolating yourself here. Seeing that happen today was actually refreshing.” Val was a master at hiding his emotions, something he had learned with age, but when he did admit that he was interested in something, that was worth noting. “If you ever want a day off to go and meet people or just get away from here, just let me know. But don’t do it too often,” he said as he pointed the scrub brush at Keith. “I’m old and still need help here. I can’t easily lift those chairs forever.”

“Understood sir.”

“Good.” Val went back to cleaning the grill. “Go ahead and take everything to the back. The guys told me this morning that everyone would be out tonight collecting their traps. Go ahead and lock the door and I’ll count down the till when I’m done.”

Keith nodded his head and started to collect every dish that he usually washed at night that was behind the bar. Closing the shop was just like running it. Keith would wash all the dishes, wipe off the bar and tables, sweep and mob the floor, and make sure everything was stocked while all Val did was clean the grill and count the register and half the tips with Keith. It looked unfair on the surface, but it was manageable for the two and Keith was just fine with it since he always seemed to finish when Val was ready to split the tips. When Keith pulled out the tips he collected form his pocket, he found the note that was left for him mixed in with the money. He found himself reading the note again a few times before putting it back in his pocket before Val could say anything about it. The shop never really received tips before Keith started working there. It started with some of Val’s friends giving Keith a few extra bills as their apology that he was working there. But soon, it became a usual thing that everyone that visited the shop did before leaving. At first Keith would keep it all since it was all usually left for him, but when Val suggested that they start splitting it, he didn’t mind at all and agreed to it so he could stay on good terms with his landlord/boss.

“I’ll see you early tomorrow morning. A lot of the guys will be coming in for breakfast before going out to reset their traps.” Val said as he went to lock the door.

“See you then.” Keith waved as his boss left through the shop entrance, locking the door behind him. He then went up to his apartment through the shop entrance. Once in his room, Keith didn’t bother to turn on the lights and just went straight to his bed. The day was a complete blur, apart from one vivid moment. The slight change in his routine was a bit exhausting for Keith, but at least it was different from the usual gray days that he would have. He then got up from his bed and walked over to the kitchen space of his apartment. He grabbed a bottle of a sports drink out of his small fridge and then turned on the lights. He sat at his kitchen table and dug out the money he had earned that day from his pocket. His stomach growled as he counted the money. Compared to how much he was fed at the lab, Keith practically had only eaten one meal that day. He usually wouldn’t be so hungry if he didn’t shift much, but with the cold weather setting in he was practically burning more energy than usual when he slept in his feline form.

After counting his earnings from the day, Keith instantly separated his allowance from the total and folded up the rest of the money. He walked over to the nightstand by his bid and pulled the drawer open. Inside was a small money box that his boss had given him instead of throwing it away. Keith opened the money box and inside was everything he had collected over the few months of working for Val. He had enough to get some of the things he needed to live a normal life, but still not enough to really be out on his own. He put the money he earned inside and put the box back in its hiding spot.

Keith’s stomach growled again. He went back to his kitchen and reopened the fridge. There wasn’t much food inside, only a few minor things that wouldn’t fill him up. He looked back over at the table at his allowance that was taken out of his savings. I guess I’m going to the bar tonight. Keith thought to himself as he picked up the money, revealing the note that was left for him by one of Lance’s friends. He picked up the note and read it again, trying to figure out which of the friends were watching him and Lance talk at the bar and wrote the note. His mind then singled in on the one friend that gave him a chill. She looked nice enough, but the warning his senses gave him about her made him worry. Keith had always dealt with shady characters after he started working at the shop, but none of them gave him a frightening chill like she did. He then broke out of his thoughts and shoved the money and the note in his jacket pocket and headed for the main door to leave his apartment.

..::::..::::..::::..

Where the hell is he?

Keith was standing outside of Lance’s window, annoyed that he wasn’t home even though it was almost midnight. He swore that he would never come back after what happened between them, but he kept thinking about how Lance’s friend gave him a bad feeling and just ended up at his house.

I’m probably overthinking this. Keith thought to himself as he started to walk out of the alley and back to where he wanted to go in town. But something about her just bugged me. Maybe I should say something? But then that idiot would just tell me I’m crazy or something. Keith kept fighting with himself over what he should do. He soon reached a park and decided to sit down for a moment and really think about what he should do.

Keith pulled out his phone and the note and just stared at them. If I talk to him, I know he won’t believe me. But then again, he might just have a brain and listen to me.

Keith debated over what he should do for a bit longer. Then he made his decision.

::::::::::

Me: You weren’t home. We need to talk. -Keith

::::::::::

Keith waited for a bit, thinking that he was stupid to text Lance this late. When he started to think he wouldn’t get a reply, his phone vibrated to alert that he had a new message.

::::::::::

Unknown Number: I’m at a friend’s house. What do you want?

Me: I need to talk to you about something. Can you meet me somewhere?

Unknown Number: I thought you told me to leave you alone?! Why the hell would I give you any more of my time?

Me: Can you stop being a drama queen and just come out and meet me?! This is serious! After we’re done, we can go our separate ways.

::::::::::

Keith’s phone was silent for what seemed like forever.

::::::::::

Unknown Number: Where at?

Me: You know where Rufus’s Bar is?

Unknown Number: Yeah.

Me: I’m heading over there now. Meet me there.

::::::::::

Keith then got up from his seat at the park and stuffed his phone back in his pocket and headed toward where he wanted to go at the beginning of the night.

#house cat fic #klance fic #klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #my story #mine

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serenephenix · 6 years

Text

Spilled Milk 2/3

Sometimes, talking to a stranger can be a huge relief.

Sometimes, you don’t even need advice to come to a conclusion.

(I’m breaking tradition since this won’t be from Shiro’s POV for once)

Also: shout-out to @banditywrites and @musicanddancingthroughlife for indulging me. It really helped! This goes for @beloved-key as well who was screaming at me to resolve this. Sorry, but in the next chapter you will get the promised hugs. <3

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Spilled Milk 2/3

[Fandom]:Voltron: Legendary Defender

[Rating]: Gen/ Gen

[Genre]: Friendship, Team as Family

[AU]: Shenanigan(g)s series, college AU

[Word count]: 3.900

[Status]: wip

Original AU by taylor-tut

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Lance threw another stone with as much force as he could muster, preparing for impact, and watching as it was about to make contact with the clear, reflective surface. Anticipation filled him, hoping the sound would blast away all his tension and anger.

The stone soared and broke the surface of the lake with a tiny bloop.

Lance made a face, disgruntled that even something as simple as skipping stones was not working today. He kicked at a pebble, sending it flying and watching as it was swallowed by the murky water as well.

He took a deep breath before squatting down and looking for more suitable ammunition, inspecting each and every stone, running his fingers over smooth or coarse surfaces, weighing them in his hand individually, and dropping whichever did not suit his needs.

He was glad that the park was exactly where he needed it to be: not so far away from the apartment that he might regret coming here later, but not close enough for the others to come searching for him here.

He hadn’t yet gotten around to showing Hunk this spot and maybe it might be a good decision to not do so in the future. He needed a place to unwind, needed a little room to breathe when he was already this angry and agitated.

He stood, listening as the wind rustled the leaves of a willow bending over the shore, watched as a few leaves drifted lazily down onto the water’s surface and wiped away the ones that got caught in his hair and hoodie.

In the distance the honking of cars and the deep rumble of bus engines broke some of the magic of the peaceful atmosphere.

He positioned himself, legs spread a little to stand more firmly and motioned his arm back and forth, focusing on a spot on the other shore. Then, with one swift movement he sent the stone flying, positive that this time he had found the right angle, but again the stone broke surface and sank.

If Lance possessed one quality that had helped him throughout his life, then it had to be his inexhaustible stubbornness. He would stay here until he finally got what he wanted, even if it took him all day. Which sounded kind of appealing if he were being honest.

He did not think he had it in him to face his friends right now. Not after their faces filled with something quiet but undeniable.

It was why his phone had been muted and then, as a precaution, he had not only turned it off but removed the battery entirely. He knew what Pidge was capable of doing with a laptop and a keyboard, and he was not keen on her trying out her witchcraft-like hacker skills on him when the last thing he wanted was to be found.

The other reason had been the notification of three missed calls from his mom’s cell. Now that was a conversation he definitely not did not want to have. For all it was worth, he would give her some time to cool down a little – his mama could be fearsome when angered and that’s exactly what Lance had managed to do.

Ignoring his initial objective, Lance threw the next pebble with as much force as he could muster, drops spraying everywhere, tiny waves gently lapping at the tips of his sneakers.

All that hard work, all the smiling and pretending for months and Keith had to ruin it with one damn question. All of his hard work – destroyed like a house of cards by a draft from a window.

The next stone did skip, but only once. Still, Lance could work with that.

He wondered where it had gone wrong.

Maybe when he had invited Keith into his and Hunk’s room… But that was unfair. Lance had been planning on introducing his new friends to his family at some point, Keith just poking his head in while he was Skyping had been a coincidence, and one he had taken advantage of.

Maybe when he had not taken back the conversation where it was supposed to go?

Or maybe, just maybe, when he had started this whole mess five months ago.

Lance could pretend all he wanted but he was well damn aware of the fact that it had started with one lie.

A lie he had told straight into his mama’s face and which went against any and all agreements they had made upon his enrollment into college.

One single lie disguised as a gentle whisper that he was going to be fine, that he’d pull through.

He remembered the many evenings he had sat at the kitchen table with his parents, discussing the options, discussing the costs, discussing the terms, discussing his future.

Their family was big, children of all ages ranging from adults already done with their education and working to young tots barely old enough to begin primary.

And as much as anyone might want to argue with him, Lance knew that education was a privilege, involved so many long nights pouring over textbooks just so he could have a chance to get to where he was now.

If it hadn’t been for his parents pushing and lifting him up when necessary, Lance really could not say if he ever might have achieved his goal.

And after everything his parents had done for him, all he’d wanted to do was give them back a little bit of that care they had shown him his whole life.

The next stone skipped three times but Lance was only distantly aware of it as he remembered his parents sitting at their kitchen table while he peeked through the door and saw his mama heave a deep sigh, papers and flyers spread out before her.

He had never seen her head hang so low, had never once seen his father look at her with such dark, understanding eyes. It was an image to forever be burned into his mind.

Someone gave an appreciative whistle: “Not bad, not bad at all!”

He jumped, shrieking and whirled around to see a girl his age sitting on the boulder right next to him.

She giggled, her dark hand coming up to hide her smile, amber eyes crinkling.

It took Lance a moment to get his heart to calm down, the girl looking at him kindly as she reclined back and watching him in interest. The golden hoops she was wearing swayed when she cocked her head to the side in clear amusement.

He swallowed, chuckling as he made a show of adjusting his jacket. Soon enough he had his best, confident smile at the ready.

“Thanks. It comes with practice.”

She hummed, casting a contemplative look at the lake’s surface.

“It sure does, but I think it’d work better if you used smoother stones.”

“Yeah…”, Lance admitted, his hand coming up to rub at the base of his neck, “I’m usually better at this but it seems like today’s just destined for everything to go wrong.”

He smiled at her, the corner of his mouth tugging down briefly despite his greatest efforts. The girl blinked at him before making a face of feigned hurt he instantly knew was only for show.

“Oh my, this has to be the first time someone has told me that meeting me was a bad experience.”

Although he knew she was only dragging him for fun, Lance felt punched to the stomach. He hadn’t thought when he had said that, had not in the slightest considered what it might mean and yeah, the girl might have been joking but that blunder had to be rectified immediately.

“That’s- that’s not what I meant. Not at all!”

Either it was the deep blush or his wild flailing, but she broke out into peals of laughter that had her rocking back and forth on the boulder. She really had a nice laugh, rich and unrestrained.

“Of course not. I’m just messing with you.”

Trying to salvage what he could of his image, Lance gave a shrug with one of his shoulders, waving about one of his hands.

“Well, so did I.”

He really worried she might fall off again when she just kept on laughing and Lance could feel himself relax.

“So, what brings someone as lovely as you to such a lovely place?”

It was all in good humor, a simple compliment towards a person that had been able to make him forget for just a moment why was running around in circles, sulking, chucking pebbles into a pond until his shoulders burned.

She leveled him with a meaningful look, a tiny impish glint in her eyes.

“Careful now. If my brother hears you, you gonna be in trouble.”

Lance reeled back, arms up as though ready to confess to a crime. If there was one thing he knew for certain from his own family, it was that you did not mess with a girl who had brothers.

“What? Are we no longer allowed to tell people they look great? Please, tell me he’s not here right now, waiting behind a bush to get me into a headlock,” he whispered, looking around the shore with wide eyes for dramatic effect.

She shook her head, the golden hoops glinting in the sunlight. Her smile was sweet and innocent.

“No worries. He isn’t in town anyway.”

Lance made a sound of surprise, going back to his scavenging for good stones as the mystery girl remained seated, merely watching him in interest.

“And why’s that?” He looked at her while weighing the stone he was holding in his hand and dropping it when it became clear it was once again too heavy.

She made herself more comfortable, letting her feet dangle over the edge of her perch, the tips of her sandals barely brushing the surface of the water, ripples ghosting over it. He was kind of amazed how someone could feel comfortable running around dressed as lightly as she was – knee-long gypsy skirt and strappy top- when he was suddenly reminded of Hunk, burning furnace extraordinaire.

“Well, he wanted to go over some numbers again this week-end to make sure everything was in order and since our company’s stationed at the next town over I just thought I’d pay a good friend of mine a visit,” she explained, shaking her head when Lance held up a stone and agreeing that it obviously wasn’t suited. He still flung it into the lake over his shoulder the tiny ‘bloop’ it made very satisfying.

“That’s cool. I bet they’re excited.”

She hummed, inclining her head and looking at the sky as though she needed to think about it, that little quirk of her lips never leaving.

“Probably not, since I did not tell him.”

Lance made an appreciative sound as he pushed away a fallen log with his feet: “So a surprise visit. Now that’s even better.”

This time the pebble was a beautiful black, smooth and slim and a perfect oval – far too pretty to be tossed out onto the water but just perfect in every way he could have wished for. Oh, this was a tough one. To throw, or not to throw…

Mystery girl watched as the find silently glided into the pocket of his jacket before mutely pointing at some stone to his left. He instantly followed her silent instruction, searching for the exact one she had in mind.

“And what kind of business do you have?”

He held up a brown pebble and she shook her head, small smile quirking her lips. He let it fall down instantly, the clack satisfying to hear as he dove back down.

“We’re a construction company. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Bahlmeeran Constructions?”

“Nope, sorry.” He gave an apologetic smile, holding up the next one, mystery girl just snorting. Yeah, that one looked like a misshapen potato. It disappeared with a splash.

“It makes sense, I guess. We’ve never worked outside of our hometown until recently. My brother thinks it’s time we expanded our business.”

Lance nodded along with a hum, search ongoing but still signaling his interest. Mystery girl took the invitation, obviously enjoying herself as she talked about her family, telling him everything from how her father had started from scratch with just his brothers, his wife, and a few cousins, how he had always faced struggles head-on, how much love and dedication he had put into this company, how he had proven wrong all of those people telling him it was a pipe dream and how, inevitably, she had been drawn in.

All the while Lance listened, adding stories and little mishaps from his own family history into the mix, laughing alongside his new friend as he meticulously selected stone after stone with her help.

“Sometimes, I like to imagine the lives of the people that will live in the houses or tenements we construct.”

It was the sheer warmth underlying those words that had him look up at her, uncaring of the throw that would now miss. Her smile was indescribably soft.

It had him a little dumb-struck, so much so that it took him a moment to react to her outstretched hand, fingers signaling for him to pass her another stone from the sizeable pile he had gathered over the length of their conversation. He could feel his cheeks burning as he dove for the desired item, his new friend all the while laughing good-naturedly.

Her stone skipped at least five times.

“Any kind of special scenarios?” he asked, genuinely curious as to what she was hiding behind that distant gaze.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Just…,” she worked her lips as she considered the question and Lance used that moment to skip his own stone. It sank after only four wobbly leaps.

“I just like to think about how we’re making a home for everyone. Somewhere they like to go back to after a long, hard day. A place they’re happy to return to again and again. I hope that if I put all of my hard work and love into it… that the people who will one day live there will feel it somehow.”

Her blush was adorable and would have even been more charming if she didn’t look so flustered.

“I’m sorry. I know it must sound silly. Rax thinks it is anyway.”

“No!”

It was louder than he expected, making him and mystery girl jump in surprise. Her eyes were huge as she stared at him mutely, Lance feeling mortification seep in, his arms flailing before his brain got any say in it.

“What I mean is that it’s actually really sweet.”

He took a deep breath, letting his arms fall to his sides, one hand slowly snaking up to rub at the skin at the base of his neck, fingers playing around with strands that had gotten a little too long. When his eyes met hers, there was no longer a trace of alarm, giving Lance enough determination to go on.

“And I’m pretty sure that people do pick up on these kind of things. It’s hard to miss when something’s made with love. Also, your brother sounds like a stick in the mud.”

She gave snort, her hand coming up to cover the bottom half of her face, and even when she seemingly had her facial expression under control it was painfully obvious that she was having a hard time keeping her amusement at bay.

“As his sister, it is my duty to defend my brother’s honor in public.” Her eyes darted left and right, Lance mimicking her before the smirk slowly stretching her lips caught his full attention. “But seeing as there is no one else but us, yeah, if you look up the definition of party pooper, you’ll be sure to find his picture next to it.”

It didn’t matter how much his back would hate him for it in the days to come, Lance found himself on the ground, laughing like he hadn’t done in a while, mystery girl snickering quietly but leaving him painfully alone to ride out his fit.

“Wheew, that was great.”

He smiled up at her and she perched down to retrieve new ammunition. Lance just listened to the sound of stones hitting the water’s surface, staring up at the sky that was slowly fading into rich evening colors, although he knew it could not be any later than four in the afternoon.

The quiet atmosphere between them was nice and he was glad for the company, not really having looked forward to stewing in his own thoughts for too long.

The sudden reminder as to why he was actually here and not in a warm apartment in his bed, settled over him like a heavy, leaden blanket.

He knew he had overreacted. He knew he needed to apologize at the end of the day.

As for the other issues… what was he supposed to do? He may have promised his parents that he would not work more than one job but that did not change the fact that, sometimes, at the end of the money there was a whole lot of month left.

Although it had become somewhat easier to set aside whatever tips he got at his jobs now. Which might have had to do with the fact that he was no longer spending more than half of his earnings on rent. But only maybe. Just maybe.

His brows were almost welded together as Pidge’s assertions, on point and painfully true, reverberated in his skull. Of course she was right, she was a freaking genius for heaven’s sake! If anyone knew what they were talking about, it’d be Pidge.

He rolled onto his side, head wedged between his arms, eyes following the path of every stone. It was entrancing, mystery girl leaving him to ponder in silence. It might have been his expression or his body language tipping her off, but Lance could not be entirely sure of that.

Mystery girl was different from him. She loved what she did with her entire heart and soul. There was no denying it, and to a certain degree he might have felt a little jealous.

Lance did not dislike the nature of his second job per se: interacting with people, drawing a smile out of (most) of them when there were metaphorical clouds hanging over their heads. But none of that could gloss over the fact that his boss, a man as mean as he was intimidating, had made it his personal mission to make Lance as uncomfortable as possible whenever he came through the personnel’s backdoor.

The constant glances over his shoulders as he worked on an order, the quiet threats to keep him longer after exchanging a few words with another poor college kid in need of a pep talk, the ill-disguised insults about his efficiency or his intellect if anything, no matter how insignificant or beyond his control, disrupted the dreadful routine.

Lance knew that that kind of behavior involved levels of pettiness he could never understand. And all of this, only because he had accidently spilled a venti cup over the counter on his first day, and over the man’s polished faux-leather shoes.

Lance even wondered why the man had not fired him at once.

Probably because Lance was the perfect victim: an almost penniless college student in desperate need of any kind of job, no matter how bad the salary or the treatment by the one in charge.

The groan leaving his throat was deep and guttural, his hands wiping over his face.

Why did Pidge always have to be right?

“You okay?”

He glanced at mystery girl, her face filled with open concern and kindness.

“Nah, I’m fine. Just realized something.”

He turned, pebbles and fallen twigs digging into his back through the fabric of his hoodie.

“Doesn’t sound like it was a pleasant one.”

His chuckle came out rougher than intended. “Not really, no.”

Maybe it was time he quit. Maybe he had really gotten so desperate that he had lost sight of the long-term aim, as Hunk had reminded him.

He had reserves now; probably enough to get him by until he found something else. Some other job where his boss would not be a complete asshole.

As nice as Pidge’s suggestion had sounded, there was no way that his contract with Anita would allow him to take any more shifts. Also, and that thought alone drew a smile out of him, he no longer had to fear that he might have to choose between starving himself or paying his rent. His friends would never allow that to happen.

He wasn’t alone anymore, in a city far away from home. He had friends now.

But first, he needed to make things right again.

As for the situation with his mama… that would demand very careful planning and possibly cajoling Shiro into helping him write out a speech to formally ask for forgiveness. Honestly, the man was so good with words it was scary – he’d probably get people to jump off of roofs for him, no questions asked, if he really put his mind to it.

Okay, so:

1. Apologize to the others.

2. Apologize to his mama (and hope both his limbs and dignity would remain intact).

3. Ditch his shitty job and get a new one.

Having a plan felt nice and it was with renewed vigor that he leapt to his feet, his new friend blinking at his sudden activity.

He threw her a smile, mind already working in overdrive.

“Sorry, but could I borrow your phone? Gotta call someone.”

He wasn’t even finished before the phone was already being pressed into his hand.

It took a few minutes, and a lot of reminders that he was owed for his generous services throughout the semester, but by the end of it all Lance was practically buzzing with unrestrained energy and thirst for some real action. Handing back the small device, ornamented with stones and glitter, he beamed at his friend.

“Man, thank you so so much! You’re a life savior!”

His enthusiasm was met with laughter.

“I hope this works out for you. Sounds like you have a long afternoon before you.”

“Naaah,” Lance drew out, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture, “easy as pie.”

The joke earned him another chuckle, before amber eyes glinted with determination that mirrored his own.

“Now goooo! You got a job to do.”

“Well, if that ain’t the truth.” His hands automatically snapped into finger guns as his feet already carried him back up the slope.

“Good luck!”

And with one last wave back at her he ran for his next stop, feeling lighter than he ever would have thought possible after the morning he’s had.

It’s only later, when he is almost literally elbow-deep in his little project, that he realizes with a sudden curse that he completely forgot to ask for a first name.

#vld #voltron #Lance #shenanigan(g)s #writing #wip #college au #fic

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beyondtheborderridiculous · 7 years

Text

Your Name Kallura AU

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

Pairing: Kallura

Word Count: 3113

Part One

“Princess Allura, Princess Allura. Up goes the sun, a new day has begun! It is time to awake, Princess.”

The first thing that Allura registered was that she was being gently shaken awake by her royal advisor, Coran. She struggled to free herself from sleep’s hazy clutches, but she couldn’t completely shake off the feeling that she was forgetting something.

“I am awake, Coran,” Allura mumbled, as she rose from bed. She gave her royal advisor a smile. “Thank you for waking me, as always.”

Coran gave her a funny look.

“Not always, Princess,” Coran said as he twisted one end of his mustache. “Why, just yesterday you were already up before I entered the room! Gave me quite a scare, you did. Especially when you asked me questions of my identity and our whereabouts. You were a bit aggressive, like an angry Klanmurl mother asking for her kidnapped cubs!”

“I did what?!” Allura asked in disbelief. That was quite disturbing to hear, especially when she had no recollection of it at all.

“You were acting quite strangely yesterday, Princess. The whole castle was worried. But!” Coran clapped his hands, dispelling the somber atmosphere. “You seem to be back to normal, so I’m sure that whatever it was that came over you yesterday, has passed!”

Allura nodded, eager to not dwell on such strange matters.

“Yes, that seems to be for the best. Coran, thank you for informing me.”

Coran gave her one of his mighty grins and Allura could feel any lingering unease slip away.

“Of course, Princess.”

Whenever the Paladins of Voltron were at Altea, breakfast at the Castle of Lions was always a boisterous affair. Allura always enjoyed them, especially since Uncle Blayatz would never fail to recount the stories of their latest adventures with grandeur and embellishment.

“You wouldn’t believe it, Little Princess, but there’s a whole kingdom that’s completely submerged underwater at the last planet we were on.” The blue paladin exclaimed, one leg on his seat and his two arms high in the air.

“Allura gasped, enthralled. “But Uncle Blayatz, how is that possible? How could the people of that kingdom breathe if they are completely underwater?”

Uncle Blayatz grinned wide, obviously enjoying Allura’s excitement. “The people there are called the Merfolk! They are people like nothing we have seen before! Their torso looks us, land dwellers, but they have no legs! Instead, they have fins and tails, like aquatic creatures. I’m not sure if the lack of legs help any, but they’re able to breathe underwater just fine! It was us with the problem who had to compensate somehow with the lack of air!”

“Oh, that’s so fascinating! What about the kingdom, Uncle Blayatz, what is the kingdom like?”

“Absolutely beautiful. The Merfolk, as odd as they are, are absolutely stunning. Their tails are so varied in shapes, sizes and colors. The kingdom is ruled by the most stunning queen I have ever seen, and the palace! Oh Little Princess, you got to see the palace for yourself someday. It’s made up of materials that we never thought of using before, because they’re only available in the sea. I’m not sure how sturdy they would be on land, but under the water, all the different colors make it the most beautiful kingdom I have ever seen!”

Allura sighed wistfully. “Oh, how glorious! I really wish I could have seen this beautiful Merfolk kingdom too.”

“Well,” Aunt Trigel cut in. She had on a mischievous smile as she set down her cutlery and reached for something hidden under the table. “You might not have been able to come with us to the Merfolk planet, but we brought something from there for you, Little Princess.”

Allura gasped in delight.

In the green paladin’s hands were perfectly round stones, small in size, pale in color, and shining softly under the dining hall’s light.

“We know that you like sparkly things, Little Princess,” Uncle Gyrgan said in mid chew. “These stones are called Pearls. We were told that they could only be produced from a certain aquatic creature. The explanation the Merfolk gave was kinda lost on me, but apparently it’s a strange phenomenon, even to them. But ain’t they beautiful? We were sure that you’d like them.”

“Oh they’re gorgeous!” Allura agreed.

Most gems that she had seen usually had sharp edges, but these were perfectly smooth. They weren’t as sparkly as the other items in her collection, but they had a subtle luster sheen that made them all the more special. She had never seen anything like this before.

She gave all the paladins her biggest smile. She hoped that they oculd see how grateful she truly was. “Thank you so much. I will treasure them always.”

The paladins gave her grins back, and warmth filled Allura’s heart. She wished that the paladins would stay in the Castle of Lions with her forever, but she knew that the reason why they were all gathered at the castle was because they were prepared to leave for another mission.

“Father,” Allura addressed the man sitting at her right. “Where are the Paladins of Voltron going next?”

Her father gave her an assessing looked before answering. “Olkari. The Olkari had contacted us, saying that they have some new technology that could aid us in our quest for peace.”

“Olkari!” Allura exclaimed in delight. Hope began to rise in her chest. “Oh Father, could I please come with you on this mission?”

“Absolutely not.”

Allura wilted at her father’s stern reply.

“Oh come now, old friend,” Uncle Zarkon cut in. “Olkari is a peaceful planet, and I’m sure the Little Princess would benefit greatly from meeting these great engineers. Especially if she were to follow in your footsteps of Altean alchemy.”

Allura shot Uncle Zarkon a grateful look before turning a pleading look to her father. “Please Father? I promise I won’t get in your way! I’ve heard so many stories of Olkari from Uncle Blayatz and Coran. I just want to experience the planet for myself, and maybe… even get a cube of my own?”

Allura batted her eyelashes at her father, but was only met with a regretful look of his own. “I’m sorry Allura, but even though Olkari is a peaceful planet, Voltron has too many enemies, so the risks are far too high. It’s too dangerous.”

“But I know how to fight! I’ve been training with the gladiator every day! Instructor Juntu has given me high marks in combat training. I can protect myself if I need to!”

“Absolutely not.”

“But Father – ”

“Enough!”

A tense silence filled the dining hall at her father’s raised voice. Frustration and indignation bubbled up inside Allura. It wasn’t fair. Olkari was a peaceful planet, and just once, just this once, Allura would like to leave Altea and explore the vastness of space with her father, instead of listening to just stories. The paladins call her “Little Princess” but she wasn’t a child anymore. She could take care of herself, she didn’t need to be coddled anymore. Why couldn’t her father just see that.

The other paladins around the table gave Allura looks of sympathy, but no one bothered to step up against her father on this one, not even Uncle Zarkon. Tears welled up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

Her father sighed, breaking the tense silence. “I’m sorry Allura, but it’s too dangerous to come with us.

“After this breakfast, go to your study to begin your lessons.”

Allura hung her head and listlessly picked up her spoon.

“Yes, Father.”

“Greetings Princess Allura!” Instructor Nanni, Allura’s etiquette and diplomacy instructor exclaimed as soon as Allura stepped inside her study. “How are you faring?”

“Hello Instructor Nanni, I am faring quite well, thank you. Other than a bit disappointed from Father once again not allowing me to accompany him on one of Voltron’s adventures.” Allura replied as she curtsied.

“Oh that’s a relief,” Instructor Nanni sighed, as she promptly curtsied back. “You seem to be back to normal.”

Allura raised an eyebrow. “Back to normal, what do you mean?”

“Well, yesterday you were acting so strangely, do you not remember? You seemed to have no recollection of who I was, or any of the etiquette lessons that I have taught you. Why, your speech was so crass, your appearance unkempt, and your posture. Oh your posture! You had such a ghastly slouch!”

Out of reflex, Allura straightened her spine. Instructor Nanni was a stickler for proper posture, and she seemed to be on the edge of a breakdown just from remembering whatever was happening yesterday and Allura hurried to calm her down.

“I apologize, Instructor Nanni. I have no idea what came over me. However, I can assure you that everything is alright now. I remember all of your lessons and my posture is proper.”

That seemed to snap Instructor Nanni out of her panic. She cleared her throat and wiped the palms of her hands on the front of her pale, lavender dress. “Yes, well, see to it that that behavior does not happen again. Frankly, it was quite alarming.”

“Yes Instructor Nanni,” Allura assured. She was glad to appease her instructor, because whenever Instructor Nanni got into one of her hits, she was difficult to deal with.

But Allura was starting to become uneasy. This wasn’t the first time that someone had mentioned her acting strangely yesterday. But try as she might, she couldn’t remember anything from the day before. Her memories were hazy, as if yesterday was just a dream. It was, as Instructor Nanni put it, quite alarming, but Allura decided not to dwell on it for the time being. She didn’t want Instructor Nanni to catch her not paying attention as she began her lessons.

Allura sat down on her desk and turned on her tablet. When she opened her notes app, a notification of a new entry caught her eye. That was strange. Every entry in her notes were titled save for this one. She decided to open it.

Who are you?

Allura stared. She didn’t remember writing this. And this is her personal tablet. The only way to unlock it was through her fingerprints. It was impossible for anyone to have accessed her tablet save for her. So how could this message have gone here? And what did it mean?

“Princess Allura!”

Allura jolted. Quiznack, she must’ve gotten caught not paying attention. She winced as she noticed that Instructor Nanni’s irate glare was directed at her.

“Princess Allura. You know that it is not proper etiquette to be distracted when another is talking.”

Allura smiled sheepishly. “I apologize, it won’t happen again.”

Instructor Nanni sniffed. “See to it that you don’t.”

Allura rolled her neck as she walked towards the training deck. She never enjoyed lessons with Instructor Nanni. They were just so droll, and maintaining a perfect posture for hours on end never failed to make her sore. She was looking forward to the exercise her next lesson – combat training – would give her. She needed it after sitting in a chair for so long.

When she reached the training deck, she slid open the door and greeted her instructor that was already inside waiting for her.

“Hello Instructor Juntu.”

“Princess Allura!” Her instructor greeted with a large grin. “How fares my favorite student?”

Allura giggled. “I am your only student. But I am faring well, thank you.”

“It’s good to see you in good spirits, Princess. Especially since you were so solemn yesterday,” Instructor Juntu paused. His green eyes seemed to be analyzing her with curiosity. “Which reminds me… Princess, has Paladin Zarkon been giving you secret lessons in combat?”

Allura’s eyebrows shot up at the random question. “No? I can’t say that he does.”

“Strange…” Instructor Juntu hummed. “Are you sure? Because yesterday your comat techniques were nothing that I have taught you. In fact, you fought in a similar manner as a warrior from Daibazaal.”

The unease that clung to Allura all day intensified. Again, the mystery of yesterday.

Allura laughed nervously. “Don’t be silly, Instructor Juntu. Me? Fight like one of Uncle Zarkon’s soldiers? Why, that’s impossible! I have never been to Daibazaal, nor have I ever witnessed any of my Father’s battles. And anytime Uncle Zarkon visits, he is too busy preparing for Voltron’s next adventure to give me any sort of combat lessons.”

“You make a fair point, Princess Allura. Forgive me for making any wild speculations.”

Allura smiled good-naturally. “There is nothing to forgive. Shall we move on to my lessons?

Instructor Juntu grinned. “Yes, let’s.”

After a long day of lessons, Allura finally got to partake in her favorite activity of the day: walking the various castle halls with her mother. Not only did she get to spend personal time with her beloved mother, but the hustle and bustle of the castle, as attendants prepared for Voltron’s departure, distracted her from the unease that clung to her throughout the day as every single one of her instructors commented on her strange behavior yesterday.

Allura sighed as another servant hustled past them.

“I wish Father would allow me to accompany him to his journey. I really want to see the universe outside of Altea. And I was hoping that I finally would get the chance. Especially since Olkari is an allied planet.”

“I know my dear,” her mother replied. “You’re father may have come out as harsh, but he has his reasons.”

“But what are they?!”

Allura knew that she was bordering whining territory, but she couldn’t help the frustration that was quickly overwhelming her.

“Despite all of Paladin Blayatz’s stories, being a paladin is not just adventure and glory,” her mother answered. “Sometimes, in order to achieve peae, the paladins must fight.”

“I know that Mother. But I know how to protect myself! Instructor Juntu even said that I’m the best student he ever had! I promised I wouldn’t become a burden for Father! I could fight alongside him!”

“I know that, dear. You are an excellent fighter.” Her mother paused in her walk and gently took hold of Allura’s left hand with both of hers. “But being a warrior is not just about combat. They also have a heavier burden that your father wants to protect you from.”

There was a heaviness in her mother’s voice that Allura rarely heard used.

“What would that be, Mother?”

“There are always multiple sides to a battle. When one is the victor, what happens to those defeated? What happens to the innocent bystanders that are caught in the cross-fires who has no way of defending themselves?

“In battle, casualties are inevitable. You can protect yourself, Allura, of that I have no doubt. But in protecting yourself, would you be able to handle the deaths caused by your hand afterwards? Or the deaths of those you might not have been able to save?”

Allura couldn’t reply. Uncle Blayatz’s stories recounted only of victories and adventures. Death never crossed her mind.

Her mother reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Allura’s ear in a placating gesture.

“You are the Princess of Altea. Soon, you will be inheriting the throne and the crown is heavy to bear. As the Queen, I rule alongside your father. All of Altea rests on our shoulders, and due to Voltron, so does the peace of the universe.

“There is a reason why I continually wear pink, Allura.”

Her mother gave her a subdued smile.

“Your father has a duty of actually fighting physical battles for the sake of peace. As for me, I fight by honoring the fallen, whether they are from the opposing sides, our own fallen soldiers, or innocent casualties. For all life is precious, because we are all bound by quintessence. We are all made from the same cosmic dust after all.” Her mother chuckled before continuing, “Therefore, all life, no matter who, deserves to be honored.”

Her mother cupped Allura’s face in her hands and brought their foreheads together.

“All life is precious, my dear. And to your father and me, yours especially. I know that the Olkari is a peaceful planet. But Voltron has many enemies, so the risk of battle is always high. And your father wants to protect you from the burdens of battle. At least, for a little while longer.”

Allura leaned into her mother’s touch. She sighed.

“I understand, Mother.”

Late into the night, after most of the castle inhabitant’s had fallen asleep, Allura snuck into the Red Lion’s hangar. It was a habit of hers to do so the night before the Paladins of Voltron left for their journey and whenever she wanted someone to confide in.

She wasn’t a paladin, so she didn’t have a special bond with the lions, but the Red Lion was her father’s lion, and speaking to it always gave her a sense of comfort. She loved her parents, and Coran was like a second father, but sometimes she couldn’t help but feel lonely. As the princess she always felt pressured to be perfect and to meet everyone’s expectations for her. She also didn’t have anyone that was around her age, so the castle was sometimes a bit stifling. The Red Lion was the only thing that she felt like she had the freedom to just be around.

Allura sat on the Red Lion’s right foot and leaned against its foreleg.

“Have a safe journey tomorrow, Red, and take care of Father. He is not as young as he used to be, so please be more careful with him,” Allura giggled softly.

She continued to say more well-wishes to the lion but after a while she began trailing off. Allura sighed.

“Red, I understand why Father won’t allow me to accompany you all on your adventures. But I can’t help but wish to still go.

“I wish…” Allura hesitated. She felt a bit guilty for what she was going to say, but no one but Red would hear, so she continued, “Sometimes I wish that I wasn’t the Princess of Altea. I wish I wasn’t a princess. Instead, I want to be a paladin! Just like my father! Maybe I could be your paladin! Or maybe someone not so grand… like a pilot! The best pilot in the universe, who gets to travel wherever they want whenever they want! Who gets to experience their own grand adventures instead of just hearing about them! Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

Allura closed her eyes and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone this, Red. Not even my father. Let’s just keep this a secret, alright?”

AN: Please reblog and let me know what you think! I’ve never written for Voltron before, and it’s been so long since I’ve actually written fanfic, that I feel super nervous about posting this. I have plans for this story, and it’s an AU based off on Your Name, but I’m also going to try to make it fit into the canon verse, so we’ll see how it goes!

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thespace-dragon · 7 years

Note

Psst you got any good sick or injured Keith fic recs?

OK! finally getting around to answering this. sorry it took so long but ive like literally had to go through all of my bookmarks to find some, and even then the ones im about to rec are pretty loose on the sick/injured Keith.

Needless to say, theres lots of angst, some have happy endings, some dont. Ill add the warnings in for each rec

Finding Home by spacegaykogane

Warnings: N/ASummary: After the wormhole collapses, Keith finds himself stranded on a strange planet. Alone. Until Lance comes along.With their lions dead and resources limited, Keith and Lance need to put aside their differences and work together to get home.Wherever that may be, now.WC: 26966 (6/6)General Notes: Its the typical fic of Lance and Keith getting stranded on a planet post s1 wormhole collapse. From what i remember its told mostly through Keith’s pov and I enjoyed it for all its worth. 7/10

we’ll make it, you and me by asexualrey

Warnings: Major character injurySummary: "Keith, if we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you." WC: 6421General Notes: I really wish i remembered more of this one, i can only tell you that it was good. Lance is the one that ends up hurt the most, but like both of them are pretty beat up. 8/10

The Six Gun Sound (Our Claim to Fame) by Mytay

Warning: N/ASummary: “We’re not robbing the bank of the biggest crime lord here, Lance. Do you have a death wish?!”“Let’s just do our damn best to not die. I am too gorgeous to expire this early, dude — I haven’t even hit my prime yet.”Six weeks after crashing landing on this miserable world, the Red and Blue Paladins are on the verge of losing everything. This is how Lance and Keith turned it all around and earned their badass reputation as The Two McClains: Mercenaries That Get The Job Done.WC: 13181General Notes: They both get pretty scuffed up in this one, and its more of that dynamic duo action. i really love these two as space mercenaries/pirates. 8/10

Keith’s Scar by 61feathers

Warning: N/ASummary:Keith and Lance comfort each other later after Keith tells everyone he is Galra.Lance didn't get the chance to tell Keith his scar is actually really sexy though.WC: 1134General Notes: Short and sweet post ep8. You know that shoulder injury he gets, all about that. 8/10

all we have to do by akinghtley

Warning: N/ASummary: Keith gets hurt during a mission, and Lance is not sure how to handle that.Lance wakes up on the floor outside of the medical bay, jerking wildly, body a mess of aches and twinges.WC: 19418General Notes: summary pretty tells all there is to this fic, and its pretty much all this, and Lance not knowing what to do with himself really. I loved it. 9/10

Don’t Forget to Remember Me by CamelotQueen

Warning: N/ASummary: Keith recognizes him immediately. Alarm bells go off in his head. This person is important, he thinks. He wishes he could remember.“Keith!” he exclaims, “Look who’s finally awake. How are you feeling today?”Keith falters. His mind is working a mile a minute trying to recall this person’s name, what he is to him.“Um… who are you?” he asks dumbly. He immediately regrets it._______Keith suffers from dissociative amnesia.WC: 4107General Notes: a;sdkjgnasah this fic, holy shit, keith with amneisia kills me. my heart hurt the whole time, ust ughhhh. He’s not necessarily hurt but Lance is there taking care of him and boy, the domestic life suits them, but damn does it hurt. 10/10

Homecoming by Thesis

Warnings: Major Character DeathSummary: Two deaths and one funeral. Keith has trouble readjusting to Earth and Lance has trouble dealing with Keith. WC: 9845General Notes: I’m emotional over this still and i havent read it in forever ok/ thats all i gotta say. 9/10

bruises by Chaosandthecalm

Warning: N/ASummary: "Show me how much you hate me.”Keith wants to know what Lance's problem is. The answer might surprise him.WC: 3632 (3/3)General Notes: Boys being boys and being idiots. What can you do. 7/10

Of booty shorts and Injuries by Queerklancing

Warning: N/ASummary: Keith is sure that he’s having a heart attack. Or that he hurt his brain when he fell earlier. Because it’s simply not possible that the boy who’s sitting next to him is not a hallucination. How could someone so gorgeous just sit in an emergency room at night?"Keith and Lance unexpectantly meet at the emergency room in the middle of the night.WC: 23862 (4/4)General Notes: lmao this one is great, def not as heavy as the others, but both of these doofuses get injured. keith is a hockey player and lance has legs for days. enjoy. 10/10

Prison Bonds by GriffinRose

Warning: N/ASummary: Keith and Lance are captured and stuck in a cell together, but it's not the Galra. They almost wish it was. These Cordalians feed off of emotions, and their favorite emotion is sadness. Worse, they've found a way to make their victims relive their worst memories to make that pain fresh again, and Keith has a lot of terrible memories he'd rather not relive.WC: 18925 (8/8)General Notes: just read it. please. 10/10

Heroes by battleshidge/Amiria_Raven

Warning: Graphic Depictions of ViolenceSummary: “My mom always hated the Garrison and what we were supposed to do there. I never got it. How can you despise the idea of being a hero?” Lance laughed a little here, dryly. “But I think I understand now.”He took a shuddering breath.“Because heroes aren’t meant to survive,” he choked, and then buried his face as the tears started falling again.WC: 8463General Notes: askgjnafbab, lance breaking down in this fic hurt my heart. 8/10

of florists and tennis shoes by venpast

Warning: N/ASummary: 'Lance wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the brief tremble at the corner of Keith’s lips or not, that slight stutter that promised a smile. But before he could guess further, Keith gave his knee a shove and got to his feet. He reached out to him, “I’m done here, and I’ve still got some daisies to sell you.”“Yeah,” Lance agreed, looking down at the extended palm, noting the little Saturn tattoo on the inside of Keith’s wrist where the sleeve hiked. He took the hand, “better not overprice those too, you asshole.”'(in which lance is a broke university student trying to impress a pretty girl with flowers, but ends up falling for the florist that sells them instead.)WC: 63774 (11/11)General Notes: This isn’t the kind of physical hurt that most people think of, but Keith does get emotionally hurt in this one and it just breaks my heart. i really loved this, its wonderfully written, and its just, wow. 10/10

Echoes of the Past by Gigapoodle

Warning: Graphic Depictions of ViolenceSummary: It was his fault. He shouldn’t have retreated – he should have ran after them, Galra forces be damned, and ripped the red paladin right out of his weaponized hands, shooting the commander dead on the spot.But he hadn’t. Lance stood there, frozen with adrenaline and fear, before backing out with tears in his eyes, justifying it to himself by saying, ‘he won’t get far, we can easily get him back once I have Voltron with me.’He’d forgotten they didn’t have Voltron. He’d forgotten that without Keith, Voltron was nothing.Keith is Galra. Keith is gone. Keith is Galra. Keith is gone.WC: 28197 (yes one chapter)General Notes: this is more along the lines of keith finding out he is galra and hence running away its still one of the best fics in this fandom imo. 10/10

i can’t help but want by aknightley

warning: N/ASummary: Lance deals with the aftermath of being sucked into a black hole and stranded on an alien planet.When Lance wakes up, all he can see is blue.WC: 16921General Notes: more of klance being stranded on a planet post wormhole collapse, and just yes. 10/10

Just Static by Jessadilla/wobblyarms

Warning: N/ASummary: --Static-----iro, Hunk, Kei---, nybody? I’m-----static----I’m sorry guys. This is all my----static--cc-----I found my coordinates. They’re---stttcc--guys. I hear something-----scccc--end transmission-Alone on a hostile planet, transmissions aren't getting through. How did it come to this?WC: 84141 (16/16)General Notes: just holy fuck. this fic made me cry, like straight up. it is more than likely one of the few fics that have made me cry, and i dont cry easy. 100/10

#klance #keith #fic recs #holy moly #those are like all the really good angst fics i have centered around keith #i really tried with this #sick/injured keith is not something i find often #and most of the time its because of emotional damage #sorry if some of these arent what you were looking for #but theyre all great fics #fawnvanilla #dragon answers

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some-cookie-crumbz · 7 years

Text

A Study in Relevancy

Title: A Study in Relevancy - Kidge Week Day 6 Prompt Fill Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Keidge Summary: AU-ish.Everyone is born with a mark on their arms of the words their soulmate will say to them when they realize that are in love with them. Pidge and Keith end up with some interesting phrases. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more. AN: Another prompt in which I totally cheated to fill it! Regardless, I think it turned out okay. Also, only did a quick pre-post read-through so it might still be a little rough.

It was her fifth birthday when her soul mark appeared, mere seconds after she’d blown out the candles on her cake. She felt the soft, tingling pressure of the words etching along her inner left arm, the sensation known from all the stories she’d been told from relatives and older children at school. It started at the bend of her elbow and shot straight down to her wrist, six words that shimmered a brilliant red that would be the definition to one of her more intimate relationships.

We could get arrested for this.

As far as marks went, she had certainly heard of worse, but that did nothing to quill her mild disappointment. She had been secretly hoping for something sweeping and romantic like her older brother, Matt – I have searched countless galaxies to find you – or even something more simple and practical but intimate like her father – Don’t forget your scarf this morning, Samuel – but instead she got something that only made her pout. Matt had found it hilarious, muffling his snorts behind his hand, while a look of concern flashed in her father’s eyes.

Only Colleen, matriarch of the Holt household, seemed at peace with it. She knelt beside her young daughter, pulling a small fabric arm guard from her pocket to cover up the mark as was custom, to protect against people using the phrase incorrectly. She tugged the arm guard over her daughter’s soul mark with one hand while the other tucked a loose strand of copper locks behind an ear, smiling fondly at her. “You know, darling, tone can make a world of difference,” She said simply. The young girl stared at her mother, turning the words over in her mind, before beaming back at her, optimism cranked back up to full volume.

“I wonder what will prompt it though! What kind of person do you think they’ll be, Mama? Do you think they’ll be a really fun adventurous person, or a stick in the mud grumpy pants?” She asked excitedly.

Colleen giggled. “Well, whichever it is, they’ll be someone who completes you; the yin to your yang, as it were,” She mused back. Her daughter flashed another cheeky grin before she shoved her arm out to show her new coverings up, reveling in the excited squeals and awe she received.

The interest and concern for the words on her arm would wane and dissipate for Katie Holt. The words would be wholly ignored to become Pidge Gunderson and enthralled in bigger concerns than soul mates and movie dates.

……………………………………………………………………..

He was a little over six years old when his soul mark appeared on a rainy night. He had been up in his room, playing with some toys, while his babysitter was making dinner for him downstairs. His parents had gone out for dinner and a movie that night. It was an odd, tingling sensation that made his right arm itch that caused him to perk up, blinking and tilting his head curiously at the dark green letters appearing on his skin, creeping down from his wrist towards his elbow. His brow knitted together and he made his way downstairs to the kitchen, keeping his eyes glued to the phrase on his arm.

If we both stick to the story, they can’t prove anything.

Angie, the friendly teenage girl from next door that had been charged with watching him that night, had tilted her head curiously as he walked out, saying nothing but simply holding his arm out at her. “What’s wrong, buddy? Did you get hurt?” She asked worriedly, moving to grab the first aid kit they kept in the cabinet by the sink.

“No, look,” He insisted quietly, scowling at her overreaction. She walked back over and blinked in surprise at the sight of the words.

“Huh, that’s certainly an interesting mark,” She said with a small laugh.

“Seems like trouble,” He said with a small scowl, the idea unappealing to him; he was, after all, a very good boy with good grades and good manners.

“Well, maybe they mean it like a joke or something,” Angie said, ruffling his hair and standing. She opted not to tell him what puberty and high school would most likely have in store for him – simply for the sake of his pride and innocence – and went back to stirring the macaroni. “I’m sure your parents will be thrilled when they see it. Now go wash up; dinner’s almost done. Then we’ll get that mark covered up until your parents get home.” He smiled a bit and nodded, heading off to do as he was told. His parents would certainly have an idea of what to expect, and would be thrilled he had finally gotten his mark.

That night, however, his parents never made it home. From that day forward, Keith Kogane kept his soul mark hidden under extra layers and gloves, not wanting to see the reminder of a message he never got to share with his parents.

……………………………………………………………………..

It started out as nothing more than casual interest on her part, really.

She found herself drawn in by the walking enigma that was Keith Kogane, Red Paladin and second in command of the team. She had watched him for a while before her curiosity caused her to start seeking him out and engaging with him. Their friendship was a bit of an odd one but she was grateful for it all the same because it was so drastically different than the ones she shared with the other Paladins. She appreciated the times she and Shiro spent one-on-one, but she couldn’t help but see him as a stand-in for Matt; whether due to her own hang-ups or intentional actions on Shiro’s part, she wasn’t sure. Hunk was someone she could talk shop with who could keep up with her, and Lance was someone she could banter and bicker at without any concern of genuine conflict arising. She had learned over the time they’d spent together that she and Keith had quite a bit in common, but the smaller nuances that made them different helped them from driving one another completely insane.

They were both stubborn and driven and passionate and extremely skilled. Where she was of a genius intellect and could reverse engineer whatever she needed or wanted from alien tech she didn’t know, he could find a way to make a weapon of nearly any item he came across as well as alter his fighting style to cover himself against an opponent. She had watched him once throw a giant boulder-beast three times his size that was created by the Galra over his shoulder by simply crouching low, taking advantage of the creature’s momentum, and implementing a particular grip on the creatures arms to send it. She had helped to teach him to do some basic repair and troubleshooting tactics in case Red got damaged and they were separated from the group, while he had helped her to fine-tune and develop her fighting style. Even further, she had learned that Keith tended to also get the nighttime need to lurk through the castle – typically aimlessly, though sometimes she had a destination in mind – and they would chatter about conspiracy theories or swap stories about their lives on Earth.

Getting to know Keith had left her feeling a sense of ease in his company, but the analyst in her was still hopelessly intrigued by him.

He was abrasive and a bit callous with the others – including her on a handful of circumstances - but he was always so eager to reassure his teammates of their value and worth. He bickered with each of them at different points, but he never let those feelings soil his ability to help them during combat or training. Everything about the guy just screamed lone wolf, but he was one of the most team-oriented people she’d ever met.

Which was probably why he was humoring her, Lance, and Hunk.

It had been Lance’s idea that the four of them sneak out of the castle base and visit an alien speak-easy on a planet about twenty minutes away. It was apparently in Galra-free air space from what the maps and readings told them. “And if you’re really worried about getting caught,” Lance said with a huge grin, “we can just all pile into Green and use the cloaking upgrade.”

“All of this to go to some club?” Keith asked, raising a brow and shifting his weight to one hip.

Lance looked at him incredulously before letting out a small laugh. “Do you hear this guy? Some club he says!” He laughed. Hunk looked a bit uneasy about the whole thing, as if he himself wasn’t fond of the idea of going, but the poor boy simply couldn’t deny Lance anything. “Look, it’s been forever since the last time we went out and just had some fun! Don’t be a buzz kill, Kogane!”

“Well why don’t the three of you just go without me, then?” Keith retorted evenly.

It was at this point that Pidge chimed in, waving one hand to get his attention. “Are you really going to trust these two to stay in a group? Remember what happened last time the three of us bailed out?” She asked calmly.

The mortified look on Keith’s face was all the answer he had to offer before pointing toward the hanger, pincheing the bridge of his nose lightly.

It was Lance that was able to get them into the club, using his power of persuasion on the burly, warthog-esque creature serving as the bouncer at the door. Inside, the place was dimly lit by a bunch of odd, glowing growths all along the ceiling and walls that reminded her some of mushrooms. The whole place seemed to be made of bamboo, though, so the idea of fungus of some sort growing on it didn’t seem too far out of the realm of plausibility. The DJ – what seemed to be an upright capybara with an hour-glass shape in a sequined gold dress - was playing loud, thrumming music that was similar to the techno beats Pidge used to listen to back on Earth, only with a weird effect on them that sounded identical to the ones old sci-fi movies used during big dramatic movements. It would be hard to dance to – well, unless you were Lance, since he could dance to literally anything – so she made her way over to the bar along the back wall. Keith was a few paces behind her, keeping a gaze over his shoulder at Hunk and Lance as they joined the odd collection of dancers out on the floor.

“I’ll never understand why you insist on tagging along for these sorts of things,” He commented as they got settled in two bar chairs.

“Because it’s kinda nice. You know, getting out and enjoying the culture,” She said, waving around them with one hand. He flashed her a deadpan look and she merely shrugged, spinning around to the bar tender, flagging him over. “What I always find more interesting, though, is how easy it is to convince you to join us.”

He leaned his back and elbows against the bar, watching the crowd. As to whether or not he could actually still see Hunk and Lance, she wasn’t sure, but watching the reckless grinding and movements was at least something. “Is that what you think?”

She grinned and held off on answering as the bartender walked over. He was another warthog creature – much like the bouncer – but he seemed slightly more approachable than the other one. Probably because his tusks were slightly smaller than the one at the door, honestly. “What do you have on tap that’s good?” She asked happily.

He grunted, looking her up and down, before scowling slightly. “Ya got some kinda identification on ya, sweetheart?” He asked, leaning one of his hoofed hands against the bar top while indicating a sign posted above the shelf full of alien liquor with the other. Pidge couldn’t understand a word of it – written in some foreign language – and leaned a bit closer, tip-toing her fingers up along one of his tusks.

“Aw, you can let it slide this once, can’t you? With my line of work, having an ID isn’t really necessary,” She said, trying her best to make her voice sound like a playful coo.

Keith was watching her with a look that seemed to be a mix of disbelief and disgust.

The bartender grunted again. “Look, girlie, no ID, no drinks. Simply as that. If a lil’ thing like ya wants somethin’ ta drink, there’s a juice joint about three asteroid belts back,” He said evenly, starting to move back.

Big mistake.

Pidge wrapped her hand tight around his tusk and tugged hard, hauling his whole upper body on top of the bar. He looked at her in shock but she kept the pleasant smile on her face. “Look, Buster Brown,” She said, keeping her tone sickeningly sweet, jerking her thumb to herself and then Keith, “me and my pal here spend most of our time kicking ass and taking names in colorful mechanical lions. And, sadly, they don’t exactly offer badges or key cards for the Paladins of Voltron. Now how about you play nice and just hook us up with some drinks? I mean, unless you want Voltron to ignore this sorry shack when Zarkon and his goonies come knocking.”

The mention of Voltron seemed enough to jolt the guy into full attention, his hoof halting in reaching for the security buzzer under the bar. His eyes flickered from her to Keith, clearly seeking some kind of reassurance that she was bluffing. Keith, having gained a better understanding of when he should stand down, held up his hands. “Look, pal, Voltron kinda relies on all the Paladins and Lions being on the same page. And if she doesn’t want to Green Lion, we can’t make her Green Lion,” He said calmly before turning his attention back to the dancers. Pidge grinned proudly at Keith.

Good man.

The bartender let out a small sigh, realizing this was a fight he wasn’t going to win, and moved to stand upright. Pidge let him, but kept her grip on his tusk, just in case. “What galaxy are you drinking from?” He asked flatly, dusting off his shirt with his other hoof.

“Milky way, if you could. Jameson on the rocks for me, and a gin and tonic for my friend,” She said happily, releasing his tusk. She settled back in before reaching up and switching the dial on the choker communicators she’d made for them. Their Paladin helmets came with automatic translators and, using some spare parts around the castle ship, she had developed some choker necklaces with small ear buds for when they weren’t in their Paladin gear. It was rare that they used them, but they were certainly helpful.

Keith imitated her actions, switching the translator off as well, and looked at her with an amused smirk. “The way you flirt is shameful,” He said playfully.

She laughed as the bartender set their drinks down, nodding her head at him in appreciation and taking a small sip of her drink. The tender grumbled something, but it all came out as muffled pig sounds. It was strong – meaning the tender could mix a good drink – and she hummed in approval. “It gets results, doesn’t it?”

“You aren’t even the legal drinking age on Earth,” He retorted, taking a sip of his own drink.

“I’m out here risking my tail day in and day out trying to find my family and protect the universe; I think getting drunk a year before I’m legally allowed to is the least the universe can offer me,” She said with a smug grin. She then held up her drink towards him.

“You are one strange young lady, Pidge Gunderson,” He said with a laugh, lightly clinking their glasses together. She dipped her head politely, opting to take his words as a compliment, and sipped her drink again.

They fell into casual chatter for a while after that, the alcohol leaving her mind a little fuzzy and her body tingling with false warmth. They made up wild, insane backstories for the other patrons of the club and bar as the night progressed, each story getting more ridiculous than the last. She leaned into his space and grinned, pointing at an alien with a fly for a head but the body of a man. “See that guy right there? He’s involved in some seriously shady shit,” She whispered conspiratorially.

“Oh, I am well aware. He’s into smuggling rare, exotic goods,” He whispered back, his own tone just as eager and giddy as hers.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

He shifted so that they were facing each other, his expression grim, before he uttered gravely, “Peanuts.”

“He’s a monster,” She managed to force out in a calm tone before she completely lost it, throwing her face into her arms on the bar top and cackling like a madman. It was so stupid, really, and made no sense for her to laugh so hard, but for some reason it got to her. Maybe it was just a side effect of the alcohol but she liked it.

He opened his mouth to say something else, snorting a bit himself, before a commotion out on the dance floor caught his attention. She wiped at one eye with the heel of her hand and followed his gaze, eyes widening as they watched what appeared to be Hunk – sweet, gentle, Mr. Sunshine Hunk Garrett – getting into a huge brawl with two other patrons.

She hopped off the barstool, bayard in hand, without needing any further assessment.

She lassoed one of Hunk’s attackers with her bayard and heaved, sending him spinning in the direction of the bar. He crashed into it, leaving a sizable divot in the counter, and the bar tender glared at her. She flashed a sheepish grin and waved before she saw Keith charging after her, his own bayard drawn. “Pidge, duck and roll!” He snapped strictly.

Without looking back, she followed the order, rolling to his side as the blade made contact with the arm of the second assailant. These aliens were strange in that it seemed they could form weapons with their bodies; what had certainly been a limb mere seconds ago was now curved and twisted into something resembling a battle axe. Keith twisted himself, ducking under the blade-arm, and slammed the curved handle of his bayard right into the other’s gut, causing him to wheeze and stumble back unsteadily. He then turned himself around the guy’s back, shoving him in Pidge’s direction. With a small smirk, she readied her bayard again and wrapped it tight around their opponent, skirting around him to rejoin with Keith. He placed one hand on a portion of the whip, the other set on her back to help steady her – his own bayard returned to its holster on his hip - and added his own strength to help send the second assailant slamming into his buddy – whom had been scrambling back to his feet with an enraged snarl - over by the bar.

The added force sent both of them back through the same hole Pidge had created before and right into an entire rack of various alien booze.

She stared for a moment before smirking up at Keith, breathing in softly. His eyes were bright and shining in a mix of smug satisfaction and weary anticipation for retaliation. He was just a bit sweaty from the brief skirmish, but she was certain she probably wasn’t much better so pointing it out seemed hypocritical. She was hyper-aware of his hand on her back – warm and reassuring and steady – and his other hand slowly released the chord of her bayard so she could retract it. Once his hand was removed, she sent an electric shock down the line, just to add insult to their opponent’s injury. She beamed up at the raised brow she received. “Figured I’d just drive home the point that they just got annihilated,” She mused proudly.

He laughed and shook his head, his smile sparking a warmth in her chest that she couldn’t quite explain. It had happened a few times in the past few months, but she hadn’t put much thought to it. “We could get arrested for this,” He commented conversationally, leaving her winded for a second.

Suddenly her sense of peace when around him – how conversing and falling into rhythm with him came so damn naturally after their initial meeting – made a lot more sense.

Lance suddenly started barking at them, indicating the club bouncers on their way to most likely detain the four of them until authorities could be brought in to arrest them. It wouldn’t have been the first time the four of them had been thrown in space jail – which, in itself, was strange considering she expected their positions as Paladins of Voltron to place them beyond reproach by any non-Galran space legal system, but, as their previous six arrests proved, they weren’t – and would likely be stuck there for some time, given Shiro had made it clear last time that he would not be bailing them out if they pulled stupid, arrest-worthy shenanigans again. She pushed Keith’s words to the back of her mind and looked around, spotting a glowing neon sign on the other end of the club. She couldn’t understand it, but there were some universal truths that crossed into the cultures of other species in the many galaxies; one of those universal truths being that most establishments had some sort of emergency exit.

“Gentlemen, I believe that’s our sign to jump ship!” She snapped, pointing in the direction of the sign. Lance led Hunk by one arm while the other hand pressed a handkerchief against his bloody nose – which, she realized, she’d need to ask about later, because Hunk was the last person she expected to go picking fights at an intergalactic club – and Keith followed after her, running with his head tilted slightly to keep an eye on the bouncer’s, his bayard returning to his hand. She clutched tighter at her own, just in case they ended up needing to fight.

Luckily enough, Green was already waiting for them right outside the exit, having picked up on Pidge’s distress. She grinned up at the mechanical cat as she dropped her head and opened her mouth to the Paladins. Pidge paused and gently patted one of the large, metal fangs in her mouth. “Good girl, Green,” She beamed warmly before following the rest of her group into the cockpit to take her place at the controls. They were taking off just as the bouncers came rushing out after them, their expressions a mix of awe and horror at the sight of a Lion of Voltron. Pidge smirked in satisfaction before glancing back at the others.

Hunk was silent while Lance started prattling on and lecturing him – the irony of the situation so potent that Pidge could practically taste it – while Keith pulled out the first aid kit. They’d started keeping first aid kits in their Lions after an incident where Lance broke his arm after being separated from the others, and had been unable to properly reset the bone and treat the wound. They’d found him before the damage was irreversible but the team agreed it’d be good to have supplies on hand for such a situation. Keith was silent as he settled in across from Hunk, indicating with a calm wave of his hand that he drop the handkerchief and let him examine the damage. She glanced briefly at her arm where she knew those same words he’d said earlier were still etched along her skin.

Her heart thrummed at the thought of the words, but she swallowed to push the feeling down. She had other concerns that took priority over taking the plunge of acknowledging her soul mate. She’d wait a bit longer – try and gauge if Keith had the same epiphany as she had already – and then she’d confront him with the words on her arm. She’d already waited this long to find her soul mate, a little longer certainly wasn’t going to hurt anything.

……………………………………………………………………..

He wasn’t sure when he came to trust Pidge more than the other Paladins, but he could at least rationalize it.

She could be just as stubborn and impulsive as he was – the other Paladin most likely to enable his bad behavior - but she was also a bit more methodical and tactical with her acts of blatant mutiny. He could come to her with a half-assed idea of something to do that would most certainly get them in trouble with Shiro, Allura and Coran later, and she would help him weave it into a beautiful symphony of civil disobedience. Her plans were a contradiction of themselves that he couldn’t help but admire; always well-crafted and tight-knit, but somehow also risky and dangerous enough to keep him piloting Red by the seat of his pants.

This particular scheme was probably his favorite of hers to date.

He had needed time away from the castle ship to clear his head after their most recent run-in with the Galra on the planet they were stationed. They had spent three straight days battling them off from their vice-grip on the world, brought there after the Galra hacked into their communication line and broadcasted their heinous attack on the innocent people they had enslaved. The crimes committed against the denizens of the planet had left him sick with a fury he hadn’t felt in a while and he felt like chasing the Galra off wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted to land a bigger blow on the Galra; something to warn them that they would suffer if they ever took a tactic like that again.

He had stumbled across a Galra medical base on an asteroid not far off from the planet in question and the thought of tracking down the leader of the troops – Harthor or something along those lines – and making him pay sounded like a brilliant idea. Red urged him to rush in and annihilate everything he could, the mechanical beast always eager and ready for a fight, but he hesitated. If he wanted to be successful, he needed to go about this the right way.

He returned to the castle ship and made a beeline for the opposite side of the hanger from Red’s spot, knowing that Pidge would be there. She hadn’t even bothered to change out of her Paladin gear before starting up on the honey-do list of repairs and reprogrammings she’d have to be getting on for the Lions after such a long battle. She perked up when he rushed in, an easy grin turning up on her lips, seeming to read his purpose without needing more information than his expression. “Find something interesting out there, I take it?” She mused, leaning one elbow on her table and cupping her chin with that hand.

He grabbed one of the many spare chairs they kept around – in case of situations such as this, where Pidge or Hunk had company while they worked – and dragged it over. He turned the chair so the back was facing her and sat down, leaning his chest against the back support and resting his crossed arms on the top of the back. “Found a Galra medical bay,”

That seemed to catch her interest even more. She sat upright and turned her chair to fully face him. “How far off?”

“Less than ten miles off, but more than five; probably between seven and six, if I were to wager a guess,”

“You see Commander Harthor’s ship docking in?”

“It was already docked in, but he’s totally there,”

“Have you told any of the others?”

“And have to listen to a lecture from Shiro about not whacking the hornets’ nest? No, thank you,” He scoffed lightly. She snickered a bit. “I came to you immediately. I knew you wouldn’t tell me this wasn’t a good idea.”

Her grin turned wicked as she pushed her chair back away and she headed toward a large bin filled with various tech bits. Pidge would scavenge about the battlefield after a victory, scrounging up anything she could salvage or repurpose to fit her fancy. Lance claimed that she was like a mutant hybrid between a crow and a vulture – constantly pilfering the remains of this or that, while also hoarding what she found, regardless of its usefulness – and, while Keith did occasionally take issue with her pick-up habit, he couldn’t help but find it incredibly practical, too.

Especially when it was being implemented to help him with a less-than-Paladin-worthy endeavor.

He assisted her with the next hour of work that was put into developing a small bomb; a sticky-bomb, as she called it. They had collected other things from their various travels through the multiple galaxies and worlds; some for the benefit of the team, and others because the indigenous people insisted gifts be given to their saviors. One of the things that had been particularly useful was the sap from the trees on a planet inhabited by insect people. It was thick and stuck as well as gorilla glue, making it quite helpful in repairs – also, as Hunk had learned, boiling it down and mixing it with this pseudo-sugar cane they had could make a lovely glaze for his rendition of cinnamon rolls – but it had a few other interesting qualities. When mixed with a pinecone-esque item from a nearby planet and given a wick it could become quite the impressive little bomb.

He couldn’t help but feel somehow relaxed in her taking on the task without questioning him on why he wanted to take further action. She seemed to understand better than the others what it was like when you felt like something still needed to be set right – most likely due to her own long-held grudge against their enemies and the Garrison back on Earth – and didn’t judge him for being spiteful. Shiro insisted that he could never continue being successful like that. Lance called it petty and, while Hunk never said anything out loud, he was certain that Hunk was intimidated by how vicious Keith could get. But Pidge? Pidge knew how that felt and knew that nothing would alleviate the feeling but doing something about it. She could take his desire and passion to help sate that fury inside of him by partnering it with her intellect and ingenuity and creating something that would make their enemies quake in fear of crossing them.

Pidge wrapped the pinecone up in the honey, making sure to attach the wick before closing it all up, with the help of some special gloves that she and Hunk had designed specifically for handling the material in a more hands-on way. She had then hooked it up in a small, hovering capsule with a make-shift lighter attached to the top. She grabbed a few more things – which she shoved unceremoniously into a bag – and then led him out. “How much recon did you do when you got out there?” She asked while adjusting the strap on her shoulder.

“Not much; I found the place, ignored Red telling me to charge ahead, and came back to get you,” He said as he kept up with her. She had grown quite a bit from when they first met, but she was still a good amount shorter than him and keeping pace with her was a relatively easy feat; when she wasn’t actively trying to get away, that was.

“Well, we’re gonna need to find a good hiding spot. One that is preferably more than 800 feet away, but no more than 850,” She said simply, skidding to a stop in front of Red. She grinned up at the giant metal feline. “To think she still wants to go roaring into battle before I have the chance to get her back in tip-top shape is almost impressive.”

Keith smirked himself, Red’s irritation at the comment nudging the back of his consciousness. “What would you call it instead of impressive, then?”

“I’d call it completely immature and stupid. Then again, it is you two I’m talking about, so it really can’t be helped,” She mused back with a smirk.

Regardless of the slight, Red dropped her head and opened her maw to them. “And what does that make you, oh wise one?” He laughed lightly as he followed her in. The name calling between he and Pidge was different than he and Lance; they knew where to draw the line with each other, never skirting over from playful to malicious.

She turned on her heels to grin at him, placing one hand to her chest gently. “That makes me the mature, responsible adult coming along to make sure you don’t get your sorry ass locked up in Galra-jail,” She laughed before finishing the twirl and continuing into the cockpit. He laughed outright at that comment, seeing through it as the flimsy excuse that it was. He settled in at the controls as she resumed the finishing touches on her little project, explaining her full plan to him as they went.

The bomb was inside a capsule that would be able to hover and travel on to the ship without detonating, and that could be controlled remotely. She had tossed one of the many control pads that they had around the ship and would simply repurpose it to control the drone as opposed to whatever it was originally meant to. The small lighter-esque fixture she had attached to the top of the capsule wouldn’t light until the capsule itself was split in half, given that this little bomb was quick to light and just as quick to go off. “There’ll be a small camera on it that you’ll be able to have on the screen so you can see where you’re going. Once you get the little fella settled with our good buddy Harthor, just click the detonation button and poof!” She said, making the sound effect and flailing her hands in the air to help illustrate her point.

He knew he shouldn’t be as thrilled as he was about the prospect of seriously maiming or killing someone, but after what he’d seen over the last few days, he figured he could be allowed this one instance of malicious joy. “And what do we tell the others when we get back after this whole thing?”

“We tell them that we simply went out to do a perimeter check or something,” She shrugged.

“We need something a little more concrete than that,” He pointed out. He knew Shiro would grill them when he found out what they’d done – and he had no doubt that Shiro would find out, somehow, some way –and he’d look for any differences to give him more concrete proof of their guilt.

“Okay, then we tell them that we were still a little unnerved after the battle,” She sighed heavily, flopping over to lay on her back on the bottom of the cockpit. He snickered at her but she ignored him. “I was getting frustrated over how much work I was going to have to do fixing all the Lions and you figured that going out to fly around space might help me mellow out some. Green was still too beaten up from the fight, though, and I didn’t want her overdoing it, so we went in Red. We were minding out own business when we heard the bomb go off, spotted that it was a Garla medical bay, and then high-tailed it back to the base. We can ditch all of this stuff that I brought with us out in space and then have Red blow it into itty-bitty space dust so there’s no physical evidence, either. That sound better?”

“Do you really think that’ll work?” He asked, pulling up to a small asteroid within the parameters Pidge had given him to work with.

She looked up at him with a smug grin, eyes sparking with mischief and excitement at the thought of a challenge. “If we both stick to the story, they can’t prove anything,” She said lightly before sitting back up and pulling out the pad again.

Keith’s stomach flipped at the words, suddenly sending him back to the kitchen of his childhood home again. His right arm twitched, the words seeming to spark back to life at being said out loud, and he felt a small smirk turn up on his lips. He certainly hadn’t expected this, but he wasn’t necessarily complaining; it certainly explained the strange thoughts he’d been plagued with about her on some nights. It was comforting to have a feeling to tether it to. He turned his attention back to the matter at hand, deciding he’d talk to her about the words once they got back to the castle.

Or, more correctly, they’d talk after the punishment training Allura subjected them to after learning of what they’d done.

#Voltron legendary defender #Keidge #Kidge #Peith #Pidge Gunderson #Keith Kogane #my fics

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blossom765 · 5 years

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Voltron season 8 vent

Okay guys. Let's do this. I'm not attacking anyone who liked the season. Feel free to not read this if you did

But, if you're like me and have been traumatized by Voltron season 8 then may we vent.

Let's start with allurance. To begin, it was the worst romance I have ever seen in my life. Allura clearly only went to Lance in season 7 because she was heartbroken. Lotor and her broke up and then and only then did she start liking him. I don't know about you but that is pretty toxic in my book. Lance seemed desperate to have a girl. After everything we've seen all series ( especially red not responding to Lance after the blushing scene) Voltron expects us to believe that we are going to be okay with Lance and allura. Everything the staff has said about allurance: it would be detrimental to both characters, Lance was going to be a first choice, Lance was going to get someone he needs. All of it was pretty much lies. Yes, allurance would obviously be detrimental. It also gives the message that if you keep pushing and aggressively flirting even when the other person does not like it, it's okay, because guess what they'll like you back soon. It's also okay to need, absolutely need a lover even if you're not considering their feelings because you are heartbroken and need love in your life.

Lance was confident to have a romantic endgame and can you guess what, it was pointing to Keith. I should say that I'm a klance shipper but I respect all ships and I only ever ship something with hard evidence and trust me klance had a shit ton. I don't want to go through all of the evidence because we'd be here all day but here's a few

BONDING MOMENT

Romantic parallels

Romantic and fond looks

The lion switch

The list goes on.

I'm afraid that Voltron is a prime example of queerbaiting and I'm not saying this because I'm salty about no klance. I'm saying it because it's true. Queerbaiting is when bait viewers in to thinking a queer couple will be cannon even though they have no intention of doing it. I know Shiro ended up married with a man and the kiss was shown but there are just a few little problems. We don't know the other guy's name and we haven't seen any romance between them. Having romantic development off screen is not only terrible writing but also doesn't make as much of a progressive stride as we wanted. It seems they only put that just to say look how supporting we are of LGBT rep. If klance had become cannon, which obviously it should have, then that would make one hell of a progressive stride. A gay/bi interracial couple in a kids show. BTW, Lance and Keith were obviously bi and gay. Color symbolism and their own actions prove it. Lance and Keith developed apart and together and they should have been endgame. If it wasn't going to be the staff had plenty of times to shoot it down. I'm aware that they legally can't give spoilers but they shot down shieth kaxca and pretty much allurance so why didn't they shoot down klance instead of giving a false sense of hope. Because they were catering for more viewers. I know they said in an interview that they weren't trying to bait or cater to anyone and I really believed in them but obviously I was wrong and disappointed. Klance is extremely popular and by not shooting it down and shoving more and more evidence for cannon klance down our throats they could keep a lot of the viewers entertained and keep them watching the show waiting for cannon klance. I cIould go on forever about queerbaiting but let me end this part on this, allurance was a forced detrimental romance and show runners aren't as progressive as we hoped they we're.

Let's move on to the plot.

Honestly, it hurts to begin. Let's start off with a brighter note. The super weapon. It was handled okay. Could it have been better, yes. Was it the worst, no. Now, let's move on. Honerva. She was pretty much a mental psychopath, but that all changed with a pep talk. Now I'm not denying that talking can help people out. That's why I'm writing this because I need help recovering. But, we are talking about someone who manipulated and was ready to destroy literally everything and that all stopped with a talk from the enemy. Let's take an example from avatar. Ozai, a simple villian but s good one. You know how they handled his defeat so good because they defeated him. They didn't defeat him by giving him a speech. Sure, aang tried to reason with him but, he was a cruel fascist who wanted power and control at the cost of others. Talking to him wouldn't erase the monster he is and devastation he caused and that's part of what made the ending satisfying and made the show something you rewatch over and over because you aren't dissatisfied with the ending. Honerva was a 100 times more terrifying and psychotic. That's one of the only compliments I can give to this show now. She was ready to destroy everything for her happiness and didn't want others to be Happy if she couldn't be. So why make such a scary villian have the worst ending. I'm not saying that villians can't be turned around. It's amazing when they do. But, a main antagonist as destructive as her being defeated with paladin help, yeah I don't think so. Let's move on to Keith. A fan favorite who had a very dissatisfing ending. It's great that he's helping rebuild the galra but, he was a complex character who had trouble letting people in. He accepted family love and friendship but if you thought the next stage would be romantic love you get to eat shi. Obviously I'm not saying he has to have a lover, that's one of my problems with allurance but I am saying that he is gay and has a crush on Lance but, apparently they scratched that. Romance isn't the only thing that did that poor boy dirty. It was also a strange power he has that was never explained. Right away, Keith was a mystery with him sensing the blue lion even though he was not it's paladin and being able to kill the druid in a very strange way. But, was this explained no. They didn't even mention it, my God. Now Lotor, we learned a lot about him like how he was an innocent little boy with a disturbing childhood. But, guess what no redemption, no forgiveness, no help for him. I assume that when Honerva combinded her Mecha with lotor's that she killed him. And do we see him again so we could get a better at for him. NO NO NO! He lived an unhappy life and died. Apparently he's happy now but if you think about that idea it's saying that you can't get back up from pain and loss and only in death will you be Happy. Boy, Voltron really likes it's toxic messages. We also don't know why krolia looks so different from standard galra, how ezod found got on the atlas, why Keith just turned galra in his fight with kuron, or what the red and blue stars mean, were they there to foreshadow allurance (ugh) or bait viewers for klance (grr), why the fuck Shiro and Lance are holding the LGBT sign, what was the point of altean Lance, James and Keith not talking about what happened when they were kids.

The creators said they wanted to end on the show on the highest note and failed badly. They crashed and burned.

Entertainment has the power to develop people and tach them. This show has spread some of the worst messages I can think of. The show was probably the biggest queerbait in ever, gave a message that it's okay to practically harass people, you can only be Happy in death, etc.

Voltron was the first fandom I ever obsessed over. I believe the people working on it we're good people that wanted to help the world advance. But, this experience has given me nothing but pain and sorrow.

Well feel free to share your thoughts. I'm going to go meditate and breath. Clear my head. Maybe watch Madagascar again. I could use a laugh.

If yoy have any advice on how I can recover and not get trust issues about shows and their creators, I'd love love to hear them. I need all the help I can get.

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