#autistic keith

[vldsideblog]

I find it equal measures annoying and hilarious when people characterize Keith as a honorable fighter. Like, no. He fights dirty, you guys remember when he took that king hostage in like season 1 right?

Also the notion of honorable fighting, especially in a close combat situation is so stupid to me, the point of a fight is to get out alive and as unharmed as possible. There is no honor in that. It’s messy and fast and holds no punches.

He probably bites and scratches, pulls hair and goes for the jugular if it will keep him alive. He’s not some fictional knight, he’s a desperate kid.

#tw fighting #tw mentions of violence #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #keith voltron #keith headcanon #character headcanons #hcs #autistic keith #galra keith

[autisticlancemcclain]

The air in his apartment is getting staler, and his scalp is starting to ache.

Everything is going to fail, he thinks to himself, unhelpfully. He doesn’t have time to correct himself because he has time for nothing. He barely has time to breathe. People will be coming in less that two hours, and he’s only just begun decorating; at this rate people will arrive and everything will look barren and horrible and boring and of course no one will say it to his face but he can hear how muttered conversations will go on the way home, how everyone will think he’s —

The front doorknob rattles. Lance gasps, a great, heaving breath forcing its way in and out of his lungs, realizing for the first time his hands are trembling too much to hang the tinsel correctly.

“Lance?” calls a voice, familiar and soft and raspy from years of cigarette smoke. “You in the kitchen?”

Lance finds himself frozen in place. His mind has gone completely blank, and he’s become a statue; thoughtless, still, unblinking, unable to process. As if someone has hooked him up to a remote and pressed pause.

Quiet sounds of boots unlacing echo the empty apartment, followed by socked footsteps. Keith appears round the bend of the front hallway, eyebrows knit together in concern, lips pursed.

“…Lance.”

“Everything is falling apart,” Lance blurts. He twitches suddenly, stiff muscles spasming, and the sudden movement rocks the rickety footstool under him. Quick hands flit out to grip his arms before he falls, steadying him on the ground with a soft, “Woah, dude.”

For several moments the only sound is the synched billowing of their breathing. Keith’s hands slide down his biceps to rest on his elbows, squeezing gently. Slowly, dragging through molasses, Lance’s heart begins to slow.

“You’re freaking out,” Keith says. “There is no need to freak out. Take a breather.”

“I don’t have time for any of this,” Lance says, heartbeat picking up again. “I barely finished the last of the food fifteen minutes ago, decorations aren’t out yet, there’s flour all over my clothes and my face is a mess and I haven’t washed my hair —”

Darting out faster than Lance can track, Keith’s hands come to rest on Lance’s cheeks, thumbs brushing under his eyes — rough, warm, startling. Lance stares at him with wide eyes. Keith smiles back, quickly, widely, crookedly; breathtaking. His hair is twisted back neatly, thick and gorgeous, and festive red sparkles line his eyes. Pretty red stones glitter in his ears to match. The gold bands of his thumb rings are cool against Lance’s cheeks, and the chain he got from his mother rests delicately over black knit fabric. The high-cut neckline of his sweater compliments his frame nicely. His jeans are the only pair he has without rips — a pair Lance forced him to get last time they were shopping together.

The air punches right out of Lance’s lungs, and the last of his worries with it. Keith tucks a curl behind his ear, lingering.

“Go shower and get dressed,” he urges, indigo eyes dark and imploring. “Let me help.”

“Okay,” Lance breathes. He doesn’t move.

Keith smiles. He pulls Lance’s face down at the same time that he stands up on his tiptoes, eyes fluttering shut. Their lips press together softly, one, two, three, and then he pulls away.

Lance makes a noise in the back of his throat. His fingers come up to brush the swell of his lip. “What was that for?”

Keith’s eyes flick up at the doorway. Amusement dances across his expression.

Mistletoe, green and white and fragrant, hangs delicately from the door frame.

“Oh,” says Lance, flushing. He remembers, abruptly, the stepladder and falling into Keith’s arms. He becomes hyperaware of the bareness of the rest of the apartment, hardly lived in one month.

“Lance,” Keith says again, noticing the shift in his expression. He slides a hand down and pats his hip. “Go, you walking mess of anxiety. I got this. Get fixed up. Everything will be fine.”

Lance closes his eyes, exhaling shakily, and nods. It’s too late, now. Whether or not things get finished is irrelevant — he can’t very well host a Christmas party in sweatpants and his grossest, most threadbare hoodie. Whatever Keith can manage while he showers will have to be enough.

He rushes off to his room, tearing off his clothes the second the door locks behind him, practically throwing himself under the stream without bothering to wait for it to heat. He rushes through his routine faster than he maybe ever has in his life, toweling off so roughly the first two layers of his skin go with it, and buzzing around his closet like a horde of wasps on a field of decaying grapes.

There is Nothing to wear. Because of course there isn’t. The outfit he’d picked last night suddenly seems inadequate, and most of his other stuff is still boxed up, so he doesn’t even have the time to go digging. Eventually he just throws on what he’d planned and tells himself to get over it.

Forty-five minutes have passed, by the time he steps out of his bedroom, and the state of his apartment makes him gasp.

String lights are hung delicately along the walls and wrapped around his small tree. Ornaments and decorations sit artistically on every surface, as if each placement was deliberated and perfected. Paper snowflakes, even, that Lance had made in a fit of procrastination to avoid work weeks ago, are hung from the ceiling. Keith stands on the same footstool Lance tumbled from earlier, hanging a few more.

“Keith,” Lance chokes out. “Oh my God.”

His friend shoots him a grin. “What, surprised? I told you I’d handle it. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” Lance swallows as the words come out on reflex, heavier than he’d ever usually let them. “I just.” He looks pointedly away from where Keith stretches his arms above him, thin paper held delicately between his thick fingers, sweater raising to show a strip of pale skin. “I appreciate it, is all. Turns out you do have some taste, Mullet.”

“Asshole,” Keith huffs.

But he’s smiling.

They spend the next twenty minutes in comfortable silence, putting up the last of the decorations and plating up the last of the food. Lance doesn’t need to say, I should have asked for help from the beginning. Doesn’t need to say, I’ve missed being close to everyone, being a real adult is hard, finally finishing school and growing into a new phase of adulthood, away from all the people I’ve grown up with, is hard. I had to prove I’m handling it. Doesn’t bother admitting, I couldn’t have done it on my own. Thank you for knowing me enough to come even if I couldn’t ask.

Keith brushes his hand on the small of his back as he walks by. Lance smiles, shy and pleased, and sinks into the comfort of Keith knowing, of Keith knowing him; of the proof of their familiarity despite all the new changes. He sighs, long and silent and heavy, something settling in his bones.

When the doorbell rings, and the rest of his friends start pouring in, he’s ready for them.

———

Hours later his giggly and red-cheeked and a little bit tipsy. Pidge brought bottles of liquor and Allura brought novelty shot glasses, and the rest of that story wrote itself. Lance lost count somewhere between Hunk slicing up the honeyed ham he brought and Shiro busting out the Twister. Cheesy Christmas songs have been looping for hours on Veronica’s CD player, and the air smells of plátanos a sweet-smelling incense Adam pulled out, and Lance is drunk on more than just the booze.

“The place looks great!” shouts Shiro, not particularly because it’s loud in here. He looks pretty red-cheeked, too, glass of wine tucked protectively to his chest. Adam watched him in amusement, arms half-raised in preparation for his clumsiness.

“Keith helped,” Lance admits, just as loud. Their shouted conversation draws teasing glances from the rest of their friends, but for once Lance isn’t self-conscious of the stares on him.

They’re drunk. It’s Christmas. Who cares?

“Speaking of, where is Keith?”

Lance frowns. He blinks some of the dizziness out of his eyes — he truly needs to stop walking around, there was way more rum in that daiquiri than he thought, typical Matt — and scans the crowd of people shoved into his tiny apartment. He would recognize that mullet anywhere and from any angle, and it is not currently among the masses.

“Hm,” he says out loud, and wobbles off.

The first place he checks is his bedroom. It’s locked, but he knows Keith can pick a lock and also has no qualms about picking the lock for Lance’s bedroom, because he was raised by wolves. He’s not in there, though, so Lance pivots to checking the bathroom — occupied by Kinkade and Rizavi who are busy sucking face — and the weird little linen closet tucked in a random alcove, which is empty. Keith is, strangely, nowhere to be found, but he couldn’t’ve just — left, right? He would have said goodbye.

Lance pouts. He hopes he would have, because Lance’s emotions are Compromised right now, okay, and if he gets sad he’s going to get sad for real. And Keith leaving just like that will, indeed, make him sad as shit.

“I need t’clear my head,” he mumbles to himself. He pushes through the tight circle Allura, Pidge, and Veronica have formed — he does not want to know, it might be actual witchcraft knowing them — to make his way to Hunk, tugging on his sleeve to pull his attention away from Shay.

“‘M gonna go get air.”

“Don’t die,” Hunks says. Lance nods, moving to stumble away, but Hunk grabs his sleeve and tugs him back. “No, wait, drink this, buddy. Else you’re going to walk into a wall and we’re going to end up in the ER on Christmas again.”

Lance dutifully chugs the three separate glasses of water Hunk hands him, realizing suddenly that he’s parched. By the end of them and also a banana Hunk has him eat, his head has miraculously stopped spinning.

“Hunk,” he says in total seriousness, “I love you. Deeply. From the bottom of my soul.”

Hunk rolls his eyes fondly and presses a kiss to the top of Lance’s head. “I know, you doofus. Begone.”

Lance snickers and heeds his command. As he closes the apartment door behind him, shutting out the noise with it, he breathes a huge sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how overwhelmed he’d been getting, as much as he’d been having fun.

He understands, immediately, where Keith has gone. He huffs a smile.

“Goober,” he says around a smile, and jogs to the stairwell.

———

A sobering seven flights later, he pushes open the door to the roof, panting breaths turning to steam in the frosty air.

“You are elusive, you fucker.”

Keith looks over his shoulder, smiling in that quick way he does. “And you’re tipsy.”

“Nuh uh! Hunk made me drink water!”

“Right, and that undoes the six shots you took when Pidge dared you.”

“Obviously.”

Keith laughs, a little, and Lance preens like he’s won the whole lottery. Keith most definitely notices. Lance can’t bring himself to care.

“C’mon, let’s sit somewhere not so close to the edge. Knowing your shit luck you’ll go careening over the edge and I’ll have to jump after your dumb ass.”

Ignoring how that makes his heart pound, Lance shoots back, “That wouldn’t solve anything, stupid, we’d just both be dead.”

“A very Merry Christmas to us both, then.”

Keith finally finds a spot on the ground that’s mostly clear of snow and only a little wet. He plops himself down. Lance grimaces, looking down at his expensive and shimmery black slacks before sitting down beside him.

“You good?” Lance asks after a moment.

Keith lets out a breath. “Yeah, it was just getting to be a lot in there.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re basically a cat in human form. Surprised you didn’t bite anyone on your way out.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

Keith looks over, eyebrows raised. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“That was very transparent, you know.”

Lance shrugs, not bothering to hide his own smile.

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me. Not my fault I’m thinking about it.”

“You think I kissed you to shut you up?”

“A little.”

Keith holds his gaze, challenging. Lance crosses his eyes. Keith snorts, punching him in the shoulder.

Heh. Success.

“I didn’t kiss you to shut you up, you goober. I kissed you because I wanted to.”

“…Did you maybe want to again?”

Now it’s Keith’s turn for his smile to turn shy, for a slight flush to rise on his cheeks. Lance’s own cheeks hurt from grinning.

“No mistletoe up here. Not sure I have an excuse this time.”

“Aha, but that’s where you’re wrong.” Lance digs in his pockets until he finds the little sprig, plucked from when he and Hunk were caught under the doorway sometime after shot number five. He holds it up between them.

Keith’s smile grows. “You really are a genuine actual goober.”

“You seem to like it,” Lance says cheekily.

“It’s fine, I guess. If I had to live with it.”

“Mhm.” Keith’s hand has snaked its way around Lance’s neck. Lance’s own hands are planted firmly on the ground between them, keeping him balanced as he leans closer, closer, closer. “Is that the case.”

“Yeah,” Keith breathes, and then he doesn’t bother with anything else, closing the distance between them. “Merry Christmas.”

Lance sighs into his mouth, tilting his head as their mouths move, as Keith’s long eyelashes tickle his cheek. Merry Christmas, indeed.

———

based on this art by @mothmanavenue

#i just love them sliding from almost in love to in love u know #vld #voltron #merry christmas! #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #soft klance #fluff #team as family #hunk & lance #brown eyed lance #lance has anxiety #autistic keith #for once 😳 lots of unusual things for me today #short king keith #smooth keith #keith is pretty as hell #christmas fic one of like five #my writing #fic #longpost

[vee-is-a-clown]

I hope you all know, Keith's stupid cropped jacket is weighted.

#I hate his ketchup and mustard jacket so much but it is iconic #voltron #keith voltron #vld keith #keith kogane #voltron headcanons #autistic keith

[keithbutgay]

autistic keith headcanons because i can part 1

Shiro was the person to bring it up with Keith and go to get him tested. He had been heavily masking but as he started to trust and open up to Shiro, he slowly started subtly stimming more, and not hiding his autistic traits

Little by little, he begins to open up to the others. Mostly to Lance at first, but when Pidge discovered him having a meltdown in the kitchen after a really hectic day and helped him through it, he began to trust them as well. It takes a while, but everyone fully supports him and does their best to help however they can

When Keith is overstimulated and needs pressure, Kosmo makes it his personal duty to lie on top of Keith until he feels better as like a fluffy weighted blanket

He needs his gloves to feel comfortable. They provide a sense of security to him, and help him with his sensory issues. They're really hard to wash though, and not very durable, so when the first pair fell apart Keith panicked and would not calm down until Shiro found an extra pair of his in a bag. After that, they bought three other pairs in different colors just in case. Keith loves them.

Since he is part Galra, Keith's ears are even more sensitive to sound. He is usually able to keep it handled with earplugs and headphones, but it often becomes too much for him, especially with the Castle's constant humming and fluorescent lighting. Fortunately, Coran, Pidge, and Hunk were able to work together to dim the lights in his room, helping with the lighting, and created a switch that would soundproof the room. Keith also loves to hang out in the soundproof training room for that reason, although the lights are a massive issue in there too.

#was not expecting this long of a post #autistic keith #best boy kosmo #i love them so much #galra keith #keith #voltron #klance #lance #keith kogane #broganes

[quantifiableme]

As much as I dont wanna write Klance fanfic in 2023, there is a lack of Rock Band Aus in fandom.

Like Lance and Keith are both guitarists in separate bands.

Keith is the youngest member in The Blade of Mamora, which is an older rock band that’s reviving itself and they added Keith as their new guy (because the old guitarist was a perv or smth idk)

And Lance is the lead singer/guitarist/front runner for his pop-punk band he started from his garage with Hunk and Pidge. They have reasonable success, but are no where near as prolific as The Blade. (They’re like 1975. Def famous, but they aren’t doing area tours.) They call themselves Voltron.

Lance is a competitive idiot, and got into guitars because he saw an article about Music Prodigy Keith when he was a kid. He started his band when Keith was asked to join the Blade at like 17.

Now that Voltron is becoming more popular, they’re doing small interviews with like Buzzfeed, and Lance has this big speech about how Keith is his mortal enemy despite never havjng met him. Keith doesn’t watch these or have social media, but he hears about the rivarly through Shiro (his big bro and manager) but ultimately doesn’t care.

Shiro, though, sees how unhappy Keith is with the Blade. He’s like 19 now and spending all this time with 40-50 year old men, who are nice and offer guidence, but like they can’t be besties. They also all treat Keith like a nephew, so Keith is super behind in social skills.

So Voltron is getting signed by the same Blade of Mamora record company, and Shiro overhears a meeting where they are discussing strategy. (The pop division is run by Allura (daughter of CEO) and she is eager to prove herself.) Allura sees Lance’s ability to really loose himself with the crowd and in his singing, and wants to push him to sing more WITHOUT the guitar.

Shiro hears this and meets with Allura later to offer Keith as the new lead guitar.

*chaos ensues*

#autistic keith #keith voltron #keith kogane #lance mcclain #lance voltron #klance #rock band au #voltron #voltron legendary defender

[jasontoddssuper]

Instead of the highkey racist Lot*ra creepiness,the love triangle involving Allura should've been her,Lance and Keith.A bit for a callback to Kallura being canon in all the prev incarnations but mostly because i think black girls should get to watch a cartoon where the darkskin black fem mc gets fought over by a brown dude who's constantly talking about how awesome he thinks she is and a Zuko kinnie who becomes the 'my girl is mad at me,i hope i die' meme whenever she's upset with him.It's what we deserve

#allura #allura supremacy #lance vld #keith kogane #legitallurance #kallura #kallurance #vld #i'm black tag #adhd lance #trans allura #autistic keith #trans keith #💌 #letters from summer #aizawa dont look

[pidges-lost-robot]

I think Keith as an autistic person is real funny about what he will and won’t do with instructions. Like he doesn’t like being told what to do, but with things he thinks he’s been given a fair enough reason not to do, he’ll refuse to do it to like a ridiculous degree. Like shiro told him when he was a kid not to watch a show cause it was inappropriate for him, but then years later, he’ll ask Keith if he caught up with the new season and Keith will be like “no cause you told me not to” and Shiro will be like “yeah when you were like 12, Keith! You’re nearly 20 now, you’re definitely fine to watch it now.” Or he had a paper round as a kid that he was told not to wear earphones during and despite knowing he wouldn’t be monitored and he’d probably get the round done quicker if he wore them, he took to talking to himself for the duration of it rather than wear his earphones cause he felt like they gave him a good enough reason not to. But like any rule that is given “cause i’m in charge and i said so” he’s not doing it, in fact he’ll go so far out of pf his way not to it’ll be malicious refusal

#voltron #vld #voltron: legendary defender #keith #keith kogane #autistic keith #keith vld #vld keith #my headcanons

[the-kittens-of-vol-tron]

*Keith and Lance placing their forheads on each other* bonk autism!

#my roomie and i just did this #well the bonk part #but hehehehe #klance #autistic keith #autistic lance

[tomatobasill]

This person gets it. Keith is literally me.

#keith kogane #voltron legendary defender #vld keith #keith voltron #trans keith #trans author #autistic keith #trans autistic #autistic author

[starrstrucksapphic]

Autistic Klance headcanons!

- Keith usually forgets to bring stim toys with him when he goes out, so he just fidgets with random stuff (his hands, Lance’s jacket, etc.) until Lance notices and hands him a stim toy to use instead

- Keith is a “I need to wear socks or else I will explode” autistic and Lance is a “If I have to put on socks I will explode” autistic

- They 100% have nights where they take turns infodumping abt their special interests

- Keith chews through things like his life depends on it! He chews on anything he can get his hands on (bottle caps, straws, a fucking spatula???)

- Lance bought him a heavy duty chew necklace shaped like a shark tooth and it was ripped to shreds within a week

- Sometimes they lay on each other bcuz deep pressure stim!!!

- Their stim playlists are DRASTICALLY different. Lance’s playlist consists of: Owl City, video game music, 2010s pop and indie! Keith’s is nu-metal and cafe music????

#HIIIII #vld posting #kin stuff #literally all of these are based on me and my lovely wife #bcuz we are literally klance hashtag real #i barely ever see any autistic lance content broken heart emoji #actually autistic #autistic headcanon #voltron #voltron in 2023 #klance #keith kogane #lance is very audhd (just like me fr) #lance mcclain #special interest #vld #autistic keith #autistic lance

[vldsideblog]

So you’ve heard of “Lance talks about Keith and Spanish and Keith has no idea what’s going on” a beloved classic

But I bring you “Keith’s a born and raised Texan, (Texas has one of the highest Spanish speaking populations in the US) who was also partially raised by Adam who spoke Spanish around the house a lot. And so he understands most of what Lance is saying but is to embarrassed to admit he knows that Lance has talked about how soft his hair looked on at least three separate occasions “

#vld #keith kogane #voltron #voltron legendary defender #keith voltron #keith headcanon #character headcanons #hcs #broganes #autistic keith #pre kerberos #keith is a menace #lance mcclain #adam voltron #adashi #Hispanic Adam voltron #cuban lance #keith vaguely knows what’s going on #klance #texan keith #pining Lance

[autisticlancemcclain]

Betrayer. Deceiver. Double-crosser. Fink. Turncoat. Rat —

“You are the biggest drama queen,” Hunk says in fond amusement. He even pats Lance’s head patronizingly.

Lance bats his hand away, turning to glare at his best friend and making a high, angry noise in the back of his throat so Hunk understands that Lance is still name-calling him in his mind even if he’s out of synonyms.

“I cannot believe you’re doing this to me.”

Hunk doesn’t even look a little bit phased, which is extra insulting. He should be wracked with guilt. How dare he. “I need to go study, Lance. I can’t stay any longer.”

Lance skids his board to a stop for dramatic effect, then throws his hands out to the side and scoffs as derisively as he can manage. “You can study here! With me! And watch me occasionally! So I am not here alone! And lonely and miserable and sad!”

Instead of immediately pledging to never leave Lance’s side again, Hunk only shakes his head at him in something like awe.

“You are truly something else,” he says. “If you told me you weren’t a graduate of dramatic arts at Julliard, I’d be shocked.”

Lance opens his mouth, then closes it again, trying so hard not to laugh and failing.

God, he fucking hates it when Hunk makes him laugh when Lance is trying to be mad at him.

(Even when he’s not really mad. But still.)

“You’re the worst and you don’t love me,” Lance informs him. Hunk just smiles, shaking his head, and starts to pack up his things. He’s been trying to study while Lance skates, but if Lance is being entirely, one hundred percent, no word of a lie, completely honest, then he can admit that perhaps he is a little tiny smidge distracting.

He can’t admit defeat, though. He and Hunk have known each other so long that the lines between friends and family blurred long ago, and if there’s one thing Lance knows, it’s that you never admit when your siblings are in the right.

On pain of death.

He huffs as loudly and melodramatically as he can, flopping on Hunk’s back with a hand over his eyes to slow the man down. He even squirms a little, determined to be extra irritating and at least knock a pencil out of his hand. Unfortunately for him, however, Hunk is well beyond used to his shit, and has no issue holding Lance up and still easily and neatly putting everything away into his backpack.

“I am going to start a mean rumour about you,” Lance tells him when he stands, gingerly removing Lance from his person.

“You are not,” Hunk dismissed easily. He doesn’t even look a little concerned, which is rude. Lance could totally be a massive evil douchebag asshole if he wanted, and it’s very cruel of Hunk not to support that path for him.

Lance tells him as much.

Hunk only laughs.

“You come to the skatepark by yourself every single day,” Hunk reassures, patting him a little more lovingly on the cheek than before. “You’re just being clingy because you’re bored now that you’re done school. But it’ll even out, Lance. Promise.”

Lance sighs, relenting. “Alright, fine. I suppose my heart will only break a little at your betrayal. I’ll probably heal.”

Okay, well, he relented a little.

Hunk grins, wrapping his big arms around Lance and giving him one of his patented ‘Hunk spontaneous spinal rearrangement’ hugs. “That’s the spirit! See ya, buddy. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Lance says, watching to make sure Hunk makes it to the bus safely. One his bus pulls away, he sighs again, to himself this time, and turns back towards the skatepark.

It’s not empty anymore — it was mostly just Hunk and Lance in the early afternoon, but by now school has let out and homework is done, so it’s pretty crowded. People of all ages are doing all sorts of tricks, using equipment and things that are very much not equipment to show off and dick around and generally have fun. Even more people are sitting and chatting around the edges of the grounds; parents supervising their kids, non-skater friends coming to watch, people taking a break, or just people enjoying the atmosphere. It’s always pretty packed by now, and will be for the next couple hours.

But Lance has shit else to do, since Pidge is away at her internship thingie, Veronica is on yet another date with the girlfriend of the month, Marco is a poser who thinks skateparks are stupid, Luis and Lisa and the kids are at hockey practice, and he and Rachel don’t hang out (they just occasionally accidentally show up at the same place, because they are rivals and Lance would not be caught dead asking her to come to the skatepark with him. That would be humiliating).

So Lance is on his own.

But that’s cool. Lance likes his own company. He’s cool as shit.

He chucks off his shirt — it’s only gotten hotter over the past couple hours, as the late spring sun peeks through the clouds — then kicks up and grabs his board, jogging over to his forgotten backpack to stuff his shirt inside. He digs around for his earbuds, now that Hunk’s gone home, and shoves them in his ears, scrolling through his playlists until he finds one to fit his mood — nothing too upbeat, but nothing in-his-feels; something chill that will fade into the background. Once he finally finds one that works, he takes off, hopping on his board and pumping his leg to get it rolling the second he hits the concrete.

He skates around for the next half hour, mouthing along to his music as he dodges random uncoordinated children and stoners alike, randomly doing tricks for no one in particular (but that are cool enough to get scattered “Nice, man!” comments from other skaters, which he will admit makes him preen).

Deciding that he can use more strangers thinking he’s cool, he sets his sight on the bigger rail of the two at the park, pushing on his board to get it to roll as fast as he safely can, curving around on of the pits, and flipping the edge of one end of the board at the last second to glide it along the end the rail. The impact shooting up his shins makes him grin sharply, loving the familiar ache of it, and he curves to keep his balance with the momentum coming off of the grind.

Only, the edge of the rail is too close to one of the short walls at the edge of the skatepark. And Lance was too busy basking in the feel of a successful trick to properly clock his surroundings to curve sharply enough to avoid heading straight for the wall. And there’s a guy sitting in the wall, looking intently at his sketch pad, right in Lance’s path.

He tries in the split-second he has to grind his board to a stop, putting all his weight on one foot to force the wood and wheels to scrape to a stop. It works, kind of, but his body keeps its momentum, sending him crashing for the guy. At the last second the guy notices Lance’s falling at him, and yelps, twisting away slightly as Lance hits the ground, sprawled on his ass, phone knocked from his pocket and earbuds ripped from his ears.

Brain tipping out of his ears, too, because the guy Lance has nearly hit is cute as all hell, and holy shit is Lance losing his ability to think at frightening speeds.

“Hi,” he says, putting an arm behind him to balance and untensing slightly.

The guy smiles, which softens his whole face; big indigo eyes sparking with amusement and pierced lip quirking up slightly.

“Hi yourself,” he says. He puts his ripped-jean clad legs back down on the ground now that Lance is not at the risk of slamming into them at top speeds, resting his sketchbook on his knees. If Lance had his good sense he’d make an emo joke, what with the black skinny jeans, black and white striped shirt under a band t-shirt, fingerless gloves, beat up black Chucks, choppy black mullet, and more chains and studs than he can actually count, but unfortunately this boy is quite possibly the prettiest person he’s every seen and Lance is always kind of a goober around pretty people.

“You’re hot as hell,” he blurts.

Case in point.

Luckily for him, Cute Emo Boy doesn’t roll his eyes and stomp away — well he does roll his eyes, honestly, but it’s more of an amused thing, so Lance isn’t counting it — and even laughs a little. He glances Lance up and down, slowly, making it abundantly clear that he’s checking Lance out.

Lance flushes.

“You’re okay,” Cute Emo Boy teases. “I mean, for a shirtless skater boy.”

Lance scoffs. He is great for a shirtless skater boy, thanks very much. High above average, even. “Not everyone can pull off the cute emo boy look.”

Cute Emo Boy laughs again, and before Lance can stop himself Lance pumps his fist in success.

(Step one to making people fall in love with you — have them think your dumbass tendencies are funny.)

Cute Emo Boy shakes his head, still grinning, and returns to his sketchbook, lining something lightly with a pencil. “You’re something, Skater Boy.”

Lance narrows his eyes. He knows what Capitalised Letters sound like. He is doing the same thing in his own head, which means Cute Emo Boy has also given him a nickname, which means he is as interested in knowing Lance’s name as Lance is in knowing his.

Well, hopefully.

“The name’s Lance.” He doesn’t bother sticking out his hand to shake, because he honestly finds handshaking to be kind of disgusting, but leans back on his hands and tries to summon his smoothest, most player grin. He imagines Cute Emo Boy trying to hide flushed cheeks and a swoon (look Lance is tired of being the only red-cheeked one here, okay, time to even up the score) in the face of Lance’s loverboy scale turned up to eleven.

But Cute Emo Boy doesn’t even look up from his sketchbook.

“I know.”

Lance freezes. Shit. Does he somehow know Cute Emo Boy? Has he forgotten he name? He never does that! He’s very good with names and faces!

“Your babysitter said it lots of times earlier,” Cute Emo Boy continues. “Often with varying levels of exasperation.”

Lance is confused for a second, then he realises what Cute Emo Boy is implying and his jaw drops in indignation.

“Hunk is not my babysitter! I am twenty one years old!” he squawks. “Meanie!”

The corner of Cute Emo Boy’s mouth is twitching, again; Lance’s main clue that he is very much flirting and not just clowning Lance for no reason.

(Would Lance be any less attracted to this man if he was being mean for no reason?

…Well. Lance has never claimed to have good, healthy taste.)

“Could have fooled me. With all the —” he looks up from his sketchbook briefly to imitate Lance’s presumable expression from earlier — “‘Hunk! Hunk! Hunk! I’m doing a trick! Watch!’ I thought you might have just been part of the after-school crowd.”

Lance pouts. Cute Emo Boy pats his knee condescendingly.

“Hunk is childish too,” he grumbles, conceding to the point that he was, perhaps, acting like a child forcing a parent to watch them do a flip every three seconds. “I had to bust out the Drunk Hunk Backpack Leash on Friday because he kept trying to run away from us.”

The story startles another laugh out of Cute Emo Boy, which Lance relishes. “Sounds fun. And a little embarrassing.”

For a moment Lance scrambles for something to say — he can’t let the conversation end, he has to keep talking to this man who smiles and laughs at Lance’s jokes and who finds his ridiculousness endearing, apparently, and who is also lowkey hot which doesn’t hurt — but then something occurs to him.

Cute Emo Boy has been watching him. For some time, obviously, or he wouldn’t be able to tease Lance about Hunk.

Cute Emo Boy is into him, concretely, and has been for longer than Lance has even noticed him, which means Lance has the upper hand in this scenario and might be able to tease a blush out of the hottie yet.

Hell yeah.

“It was,” Lance agrees, letting some of the cockiness bleed into his voice. Cute Emo Boy hears it easily, finally looking up from his sketchbook to look at Lance with a raised eyebrow. Lance pauses a moment for dramatic effect, because yes, okay, he’s a bit of a drama queen. “Almost as embarrassing as watching someone skate for two hours without bothering to try and talk to them.”

Just as he predicted, Cute Emo Boy flushes, completely caught out. He sputters for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse, and Lance goes for a double whammy.

“I didn’t spend that time trying to put their likeness to paper, either.”

It’s honestly just an estimated guess, that Cute Emo Boy has been drawing him, and it’ll be super humiliating if he’s guessed wrong. But Cute Emo Boy’s jaw snaps shut with an audible click, and he goes even redder, turning his gaze back to his sketchbook.

“…Point to Lance,” he concedes after a moment of silence.

Lance grins. Bingo.

“I’ll trade in my point for your name, I think. Can’t keep calling you Cute Emo Boy if I’m going to take you out on a date.”

“Keith.” Cute Emo Boy grins wide enough to show off crooked incisors. “And I guess I wouldn’t mind spending some more time getting to know you. It’ll be good drawing practice, at least. I can’t quite seem to get your eyes — they’re a shade of brown I haven’t seen before.”

Pleased, Lance leans closer to Cute Emo Boy — to Keith — and opens his eyes a little wider, catering to his unspoken request.

Maybe, in hindsight, he can forgive Hunk’s betrayal.

———

based off this video

#watch the video it’s cute as hell #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #hunk #hunk garrett #lance & hunk #keith #keith kogane #klance #pre klance #getting together #meet cute #modern au #skater lance #artist keith #autistic lance #autistic keith #brown eyed lance #flirty keith #flirty lance #dramatic lance #my writing #fic #banter #longpost

[vee-is-a-clown]

Adults have always called Keith poetic which is really stupid because he isn't. He just has a hard time describing things and a big vocabulary.

Adults always make it seem like a good thing but it's not. He always sounds like a pretentious snob. No one of Keith's age wants to talk to someone they think is more educated than them. He has to dumb down the way he talks so people don't hate him more.

#just a little projecting #voltron #keith voltron #vld keith #keith kogane #autistic keith #? #is this an autistic thing?

[keithsautism]

Keith would be constantly having the same realizations. After being at a space market and this bipedal, broad shouldered alien making some kind of gestures at him after he was accidentally staring at the top of it's legs. He'd be lying in bed days later like "Ohhh.." like he's surprised every single time he remembers that he's a gaylien

#it just all keeps clicking into place #every time like huh. guess i really am half galra. guess i really am a homo #forgot about that #keith kogane #its the autism #vld keith #autistic keith #galra keith

[keithbutgay]

autistic keith headcanons part 2

Food texture is actually a really big thing for him, he can't stand anything that isn't either chewy, crunchy, or melts in your mouth. He can usually stand the goo, but it was a really hard adjustment and it's still difficult sometimes for him to stomach it. Hunk always makes sure to check in

He goes nonverbal sometimes when he gets overstimulated, emotionally exhausted, or having troubles mental health wise. Once, he went nonverbal after a long and complicated mission that was really hard on him and when he was sitting and chilling in the lounge with the other paladins, someone *cough* Lance *cough* made an incorrect statement about one of his special interests. Shiro had to physically hold Keith back from throttling Lance.

Pidge and Keith love to talk about cryptids together, sharing theories and evidence. It's an interest they both share, and are often found in the middle of a friendly (somewhat) debate, both talking excitedly and infodumping. Keith sometimes wishes he had talked to Pidge earlier when their brothers met up, they totally could have been friends.

Shiro almost always has a fidget on him, ready for when Keith inevitably forgets to bring one.

More on the fidget thing- Keith usually likes to play with the wrapping on his knife, but a lot of the time weapons aren't allowed at the political meetings he's unfortunately forced to go to. This usually ends in him chewing up his lip and fingers, so for his next birthday all the paladins (plus Coran and Allura) all saved up to buy him chewelry to wear

Also! Because he is part Galra, the spectrum of colours he can see is actually larger and more honed in than the spectrum of colours visible to a human. As a result of this, he is often overwhelmed by the sights around him, seeing everything as more vibrant and with more colours added in. With the help of the local techies (Pidge, Hunk, and Coran-ish) his helmet was designed to function as a filter, only letting certain colours through and even working as sunglasses, darkening everything around him.

#i think i might just be projecting at this point #oh well #autism #autistic keith #keith kogane #galra keith #shiro voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron #takashi shirogane

[the-feral-gremlin]

Cw: mentions of panic attack, derealization, dissociation, ptsd, meltdowns

Hc that Keith taught Kosmo how to do DPT.

(For those of you who don’t know, DPT stands for deep pressure therapy, it can either be a really tight hug, someone lying on top of you, or a dog lying on you/your lap/etc. It’s usually performed as a task by service dogs. It’s also used to help with PTSD, anxiety, autism, dissociation, and other stuff. It’s helpful, from my own experience.)

Keith had originally meant it just for him, because he read somewhere that DPT helped with panic attacks/meltdowns/etc especially since his mom doesn’t know what to do in those situations and he doesn’t really trust her to be there for him especially when he’s vulnerable. So he slowly teaches Kosmo DPT.

Later on when they’re in black Shiro has a nightmare (Keith and Krolia are out collecting firewood or something just go with it.) and bolts upright, Kosmo gets up from where he was watching him/ laying across the room and makes himself comfortable on Shiro. Shiro doesn’t know what the fuck is happening but he pets Kosmo anyway and “hey! I’m slowly feeling real and I’m this body again!”

And later on Kosmo does it for Keith again and then Shiro and then Pidge at one point.

(This headcannon is brought to you by my former sdit, who I miss very much. But also, did you have to run away motherfucker? /affectionate)

#broganes #kind of #keith kogane #takashi shirogane #vld kosmo #voltron legendary defender #i’m rambling #headcannons #autistic keith