#Allura mentioned

[akutagawamydear]

I’ve seen a lot of, Keith being angry about the whole Voltron mission thing– and I agree!! That he’s angry about it.. but let me give you

Angry LANCE!! Lance who, didn’t want to be on the mission in the first place and was just going with the flow so he could get home to his FAMILY faster, Lance who didn’t think the mission would take as long as it has, Lance who burns in hatred for Voltron and Allura/Coran and the Lions because. Why? They keep prolonging the mission to save the universe by making STUPID decisions one after another after another, Lance, who seethes inwardly everytime Lotor or another Galra rescue mission comes up, because these STUPID aliens who don’t know their place and should sit down back at their weak little planet are keeping him from his family. Lance, who misses his family so much, who worries and misses them as much as they do him, Lance who’s heart squeezes with a sickness and guilt when he thinks about his family not knowing where he went. Lance who, undoubtedly has Undealt with violent thoughts, Lance who wants to ram his gun into Lotor’s face and pull the trigger at LEAST, 7 times, who wants to wrap his hands around Allura’s neck as he spits insult after insult. Lance who feels an unexplainable itching in his hands to pull on the controls inside Blue (or any Lion) until they snap and the wires are exposed, so he can pull and cut and yank them until she hopefully shuts down (no matter if he gets electrocuted in the process). And, I dunno about ya’ll but, I headcanon that the Voltron mission caused Lance to miss one of his nephew’s birthdays (which he has NEVER done, always being early because he loves his family So so sososoSoSO much that he can’t help but follow them everywhere they go so h can shield them from the world and shower them with his overwhelming love), and that, that SINGLE fact, IRRITATES him to his CORE, because– some stupid mission, caused by some no-good, weak alien princess and her dumb mechanical lions kidnapped him and decided he, a cadet who wanted to fly CARGO ships, was a perfect candidate to SAVE THE FUCKING UNIVERSE, to “save” and avenge the princesses kingdom, which was GONE, is GONE, and will FOREVER *be* GONE, because why? Her and her weakass kingdom could protect themselves from the way life worked? A prince who’s dad and mom don’t care about him and could care less if he lived or died (only really caring because he’s the only kid they have) and he let his issues get to his head and convince him that he needs to use violence to feel powerful.

in conclusion. I want batshit angry Lance, I want Lance to go feral inwardly until it becomes too much for him to keep bottled up and he goes apeshit Outwardly

[torveiglyart]

He has arrived. Like the prophecy foretold~

aka me living up to my last post.

As much as I love Black Paladin Lance, I think it only would have worked after the whole Lotor thing. Back in season 3, Lance respected Keith as their leader and vice versa, but, had the roles been reversed, I think there would have been a struggle on both sides. Keith would have a hard time respecting Lance as an authoritative figure, and Lance would struggle listening to Keith and not always lead with the team's needs in mind. Lance was kind of Keith's impulse control in the new set up, whereas a RP Keith and BP Lance would create a power imbalance. Keith respects Lance as an equal, and Lance respects Keith as authority. When Keith leaves, however, the dynamic shifts.

Lance respects Shiro as his hero and leader, but Shiro consistently does not acknowledge Lance as his right hand, and by extension, his equal. Lance is pushed aside again and again, but everyone else listens to Shiro so there's not much he can do. When Keith comes back, there's a new relationship between the two.

Lance appreciates Keith's insight and decisions more after the lack of acknowledgment from Shiro, and Keith is more accepting of authoritative figures telling him what to do thanks to the BoM. It's at this point where a BP Lance would work out. How it would get to a lion switch again, I have no clue, but I do think a changing of the guards part 2 would be a good way to show Lance's character development instead of *sighs* garfle warfle snik and allurance.

Honestly I think allurance should have happened sooner and then like a whole 'soul searching filler' episode where they break up on good terms. It's too often we find permanent or sad endings with media relationships. It would have been nice to see a "hey maybe this doesn't work. Friends?" from Lance and Allura.

Okay, another unrelated thing (sorry). Can someone please tell me the real reason Keith voted Lance in GWSnik? 'Cause "I don't want to spend an eternity with you" is sooooo not a legit answer. He should have voted himself if that were the reason. Is it because he felt bad for Lance? He didn't want him getting called dumb for an eternity? He didn't think anyone else would vote him? Does he actually think Lance was the best person to carry Voltron? Or is he just a sad gay in space?

I guess you can answer in the comments or a reblog but, yeah! Those are my thoughts on Black Paladin Lance! Thanks!

[ethereance]

Au where Lance is a florist and one day Allura comes in slams a 20 dollar/gac bill on the counter and angrily asks how to say "fuck you" in flower

Ooooo, a classic. Allurance flower shop au let’s gooooo

***

When Lance was younger, he dreamed of reaching towards the stars.

But then the stars came to him.

Aliens—their existence was a mystery no longer. Area 51 couldn’t build a facility big enough to contain the ships that suddenly made it onto the scene, one so remarkably like every alien invasion film ever that everyone was prepared for the worst. They sat and awaited the end.

It never came.

And suddenly Lance was looking up no longer. All the adventure was on his doorstep, in the streets of Plaht city, a hot pot for human and alien life alike, all so intermingled it’s like it was always so, the days of Lance’s childhood a distant memory. There’s something in this community here, something that’s kept him tied, feet planted in soil. It’s the greatness of it all, in a universe so large, so vast, much more so than he ever imagined.

He’d feel small, out there. Here, he has his family, and a taste of the unreachable.

(“I’m sorry you didn’t get into the garrison,” Veronica had said, the rejection letter in her hand. Now the stars are closer than ever, technology capable, the call to flight had swept up his entire generation. Overwhelmed in numbers, he hadn’t made the cut.

Veronica ruffled his hair. It eased the pain, somewhat. “They don’t know what they’re missing out on,” she’d said.

Lance sniffled. “Maybe.”)

So, maybe he didn’t get into pilot school. Maybe he didn’t go to the stars himself because Earth kept ahold of his shoes and tugged. Maybe he’s still here, in the same place because a dream died in his heart.

And he’s fine with that, really. The sting has left him. And he’s not trying to convince himself otherwise. Not with the vastness of the universe, and the knowledge that, wherever he’d go, he’d miss home.

Lance is at peace with continuing the family business. With staying here, with them. For them.

Mostly.

More so now than when he was younger.

The Serrano’s floristry shop ‘Florrano’s’ has been in the family a fair few generations, long enough that the shop has become a bit of an heirloom itself. Even after the chaos the arrival of their interstellar friends caused, the shop has stood strong, ever resilient. Even if it were to have fallen, it would have been built again. Family roots are like that.

Lance likes to think that he’s taken to the business quite well, in fact, well enough that he’s known as the flower tailor around these parts, a name that, though he may have given to himself, is one he’s sure that others are calling him. He’s certain—it’s cool. Like him. Lance makes the best arrangements on the block. And he’s competing with that olkari run shop, so you know he’s good.

He’s the flower tailor, after all.

Any occasion, he has the flowers. Weddings, funerals, apologies—

***

“Excuse me, tell me, how would you go about saying ‘fuck you’ in flower?”

Lance blinks. “… Huh?”

It’s been a steady day, really. A few customers in to browse, a bulk purchase for in upcoming event, and someone looking for the most expensive bouquet to salvage his relationship—not that Lance has much faith in flowers being able to save that. The guy seemed like a grade A jerk. No, an A+++.

But other than that, steady.

And then in comes this hurricane of white hair making a beeline for the till, slamming down ten, no, twenty GAC onto the counter, and suddenly grade A+++ jerk guy is already fading from Lance’s mind.

“Did I not say it right?” says the woman, frowning, her head tilted in askance. She’s got this accent—English perhaps, a slight lilt to her words that makes him think he’s speaking with someone who’d outstretch their pinky when sipping a cup of tea, regal, refined. Or perhaps there’s some sort of space equivalent, because one look at her ears tells him he’s speaking to an altean, and a gorgeous one at that. He allows dreamy bubbles to float across his vision for the bliss of about one second before he remembers that a) she’s talking to him and b) he probably hadn’t hallucinated the vein that had popped on her forehead. This woman had not shown that GAC any mercy, slamming it down like that.

“The human language has so many curses,” she continues. “Hmmm… I want this.” Lance almost chokes on his own spit when she pulls out a middle finger on him. “In flower.”

“Yeah, I heard you loud and clear the first time, lady,” says Lance, his hands raised in defence. He motions to her. “You can put that thing away.”

Her cheeks darken, an embarrassed flush as she lowers her hand, now rigid at her side. “Oh, right. Sorry. I’m… a little out of sorts.”

Lance goes for an easy, relaxed smile. The kind he uses when he turns up the charm—ladies totally dig it. “Hey no worries, I can forgive a pretty face like yours.”

Well, they usually dig it, deep enough to tunnel in. This woman just gives him and his Lance ™ wink this unimpressed look as his insides wither and die. Oh to have that tunnel—he’d love for a getaway right now. “Hmm.”

Lance clears throat, resolving to pretend that just straight up never happened. He can play this off, he can play this off. “You know, people don’t usually say that in flower. Usually in words, just to keep things from getting confusing.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried. But Lotor just doesn’t want to get the message.”

She’s a talker, it seems. Lance may be getting his dose of drama today. “Lotor?” he pries.

“He’s my ex.”

“Ooof. Rough breakup?”

“Putting it mildly,” she says, and he can see it in her eyes—the emotionally wringing flashback she’s thrown through, all amounting to one singular wince. “So, do you have any flowers that could help?”

“Ahaha, now that’s where you’re in luck,” says Lance, slipping past her from around the counter. He starts pulling up several flowers from around the shop, talking as he goes. “You’d want a bouquet with orange lilies in for sure, maybe some geraniums… and some yellow carnations. Anyone well versed in flower would know a hatred bouquet when they saw one.”

Lance stops, meeting her eyes. He’s listed off the flower equivalent of an all out verbal assault, no remorse, completely soul crushing stuff. If he were the recipient, him and his self esteem would never recover, but—

“But something tells me you need a little more than subtle. Something that speaks to him in a language he can’t ignore, so he knows your lovely rose has thorns.”

She considers this. “Then what do you propose?”

“Lotor—that’s a galran name, right?” Lance thinks that’s what they’re called, the fuzzy purple ones. Lotor’s got something distinctly galran about it. He swears he’s hard the name somewhere before.

“Well, derived from both altean and galran history, but yes.”

“Thought so.” Lance puts down his collection of flowers onto the counter, and dives into the ‘staff only’ room, back where they keep and grow some of their more exotic plants. Veronica’s job at the garrison had got them in contact with one of their most reliable suppliers, Colleen Holt. And the amount of alien plants she’s come across—man. Supplied from anyone else, Lance would assume she was trying to get them killed with carnivorous foliage. But no, alien plants are just weird and wonderful like that. He picks up an incredibly velvety looking plant, its petals a deep rouge seeping into black, jagged edges making the petals themselves look like they’re laced with thorns, though they’re as soft as they come. A few snips, and Lance has enough for a bouquet, should the woman want them. He exits back out to the till, waving the flowers upon return.

“See, this here is—”

“Grunarvexus,” the woman finishes for him, her eyes widening in recognition.

“Yep! That’s the one. Others call it the galran catastrophe plant. They see it as a bad omen—always growing in places of calamity.” He grins, sharp, smug. “It would be pretty hard to ignore a bouquet with these in.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t consider it before. Please, I’d like you to add some grunarvexus to those orange lilies, and the other two.” She looks at her cash, still where she had slammed it down earlier. “Would this be enough to cover it?”

“More than enough, but for you? I can offer a discount.” Not that his parents would be pleased, but you know. Cute girl. “I’d say on the house, but a guy’s gotta put food on the table somehow.”

Sharp eyes—he feels the sting of her skepticism. “What’s with the charitable mood?”

Lance shrugs. Says it how it is. “This ex of yours does not sound worth your money.”

Seriously. For a guy to fumble this girl as bad as he did? Not even worth a cent. Or GAC in this case.

“I suppose you’re right.” Her lip twitches into a light smile, amusement a gift like sunrise on her face, positively radiant. She glances at his name tag. “Thank you… Lance.”

The way she says his name, something in Lance’s heart stutters, caught on the ghost of an r that reshapes his name to her design—something so spectacular in a nickname that isn’t really a nickname at all.

“No problem,” he says, sounding a little faint. With her attention on him arranging the bouquet, tying it up with a nice, black ribbon, he hopes the rising heat to his face goes unnoticed. “Just doing my job, Princess.”

“Princess? How did—” She cuts herself off, looking down at her shirt, its bright pink declaration that she’s a ‘princess’ inspiration for the endearment. “Oh. I forgot I put this one on. I’m Allura. Just Allura. And certainly not a princess.”

“I don’t know,” he draws out. “You seem like one to me.”

“I assure you I’m not!”

“Well then,” Lance says, putting her bouquet through the till. “Here’s your change ‘just Allura’.”

“Thank you,” Allura says, taking the change and the flowers along with it. Her eyes trail the shop, admiration soft, tender, every plant truly a marvel under her eyes, and Lance’s chest swells with pride, cosy and warm in its golden glory. Maybe this isn’t his original dream, but he’s proud of his work, proud of what his family has built here. “You have a wonderful shop—I’m glad Romelle told me about this place.”

Romelle—he knows that name. A regular, one who often stops by with her brother—Bandana? Banana, no, Bandor, he thinks—and, like Allura here, an altean too. She’s chatty, friendly, and even brought him in some of her freshly baked blomfruit pie when he let slip about his breakup with Jenny. He’s still gotta get her recipe for that, and ask her what a blomfruit even is.

“Oh, um, thanks! You know Romelle?”

“She’s a friend.” Allura gives him a strange look. “One who may have had ulterior motives in brining me here.”

“… Huh?”

“No matter,” she says, already heading towards the door. “Take care, Lance.”

“You too,” he says, caught in a daze. He shakes himself to, brings back some of his ol’ Lancey Lance confidence. “Oh, and Allura? If the flowers don’t work and he’s still bothering you, we could always turn this flower shop au into a fake dating one. You know where to find me.”

Allura looks back at him, apparently just to make a show off rolling her eyes before she leaves. “I’ll consider it.”

(And like a star—she comes to him, brilliant, blinding, beautiful.

He may not be a pilot, but in this moment, his heart learns to soar.)

[alienboy51]

incoming: alienboy51 rants vehemently about voltron. (specifics: shiro's character / HIS TERMINAL ILLNESS THAT IS NEVER DISCUSSED)

hot take? shiro's illness came WAY out of left field, and was never spoken about outside of ONE SINGUKAR EPJSODE. the fact that shiro was originally just supposed to stay dead tells me that they probably didn't expect to expand that far into his life. you can watch any episode without the knowledge that shiro had a TERMINAL FUCKING ILLNESS and it wouldn't affect ANYTHING. :| do you guys get how annoying that is. i don't even. i don't care. after he was revived, his clone body didn't have the illness. there's NO REASON for jt to exist besides a reason adam didn't want him to go to kerberos. adam is another think that irks me. we know jack and squat about him besides that he was shiro's fiancé. and also!! that's not confirmed outright in the show. :| you would think... with how much the plot is FOCUSED on shiro, they'd be able to write him better. but no, they can't even write the characters that they favor over ALL OF THE OTHER ONES. i mean like, it's obvious, right? they have three favorites, maybe four, those being shiro, allura, keith, and pidge. hunk and lance? who the fuck are they? coran? i've never heard of him. JESUS. and the thing is, out of all of these characters, pidge is the only one who's written WELL. and she's... like... annoying? in the later seasons? once her arc is wrapped up she's kind of jusf... a bitch... sorry... like i love her and she's funny, but she's a jerk! she should've had another arc thaf was equivalent to twilight fucking sparkle because PIDGE IS SUCH A JERK! guys... guys. seriously. ANYONE in the fandom could rewrite voltron, and ANY result would be WAY BETTER than what we got.

[thestargayzingheroine]

Preserving this meme I made for posterity.

And don't worry, this has SO many uses!

[half-shadowgalra]

heh heh

Voltron reference :)

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

It's my personal belief that new voltron live action should be Office type documentary style comedy about paladins doing fuck all and day being saved by weird hijinks. Only way to save this timeline/j

[astralleywright]

a lot of posts right now seem to rely on the idea that what happened in Aeor is common knowledge throughout Exandria, but based on what we know I don't necessarily think that's the case? back in Bassuras, an 18 history check (which would be a very high roll for an "average" person) only got Imogen the names of Age of Arcanum cities and the vaguest of context. in the most recent Cooldown, Matt talked about how most people have a similarly broad understanding of the calamity, and didn't know the reason the gods were warring in the first place.

There are of course specificalists and experts, like Imahara Joe or the professor they met in Yios or many of the high-level clergy of Vasselheim, that likely already know what happened in some amount of detail. And of course, many people's opinions on the gods would not change one way or another upon learning the details. But I think there are a lot more people who don't know the gods decimated an entire city than people realize.

[snackleggg]

I feel like a big part of Allura's character being done dirty and feeling inconsistent comes from the writers just not really being able to write female characters very well.

What do I mean?

Well, Voltron's cast has always been primarily male (which makes sense since the og show was from the 80s) but vld gives us quite a few "strong female characters". The problem comes when you notice most of those characters are minor like Krolia or Acxa or Veronica. This means the characters can be depicted as strong and badass with any more indepth characters moments being conveniently off screen (like Krolia & Keith's time on the space whale, Veronica's time worrying over Lance's disappearance & trying to protect earth, Acxa's redemption)

But there are still female characters within the main cast and the contrast between how they are written really gives an insight to the struggle the vld writers had. The contrast between how Pidge and Allura are written is alarming.

Pidge, even after her reveal, is still written in an androgynous masc-leaning way. The characters don't even refer to her with any pronouns for seasons after her "reveal", its only in the last few seasons that the writers seemingly remember Pidge is supposed to use she/her pronouns. This is probably a byproduct of the fact that the archetype Pidge fills (the smart guy) is commonly a masc one.

Meanwhile, Allura's characterisation is butchered because as the designated "main female character" the writers just threw every single character trope at her, probably trying to make her feel "deep" and multifaceted but just made her feel inconsistent, busy, and butchered instead.

She's "the leader" initially when the paladins are first starting out but Shiro fills that role quickly so she is put in a more "support" role. She seems to be some type of "chosen one" considering her ability to connect w/ the balmera, negate haggars magic, and her natural talent w/ alchemy (the explanation seems to be that it's because of her lineage, as Alfor was the best alchemist of his time, but we never seem/know enough about Alfor or his own abilities to get a tangible grasp of what Allura's capabilities are. It's just whatever is convenient to the plot like bringing Lance back to life). She falls into the "damsel in distress" trope at the end of season 1. She's made the center of a very disingenuous and forced feeling love triangle. They try to give her a racism arc??? But fail spectacularly bc they never have like a proper heartfelt conversation about her bias, where it comes from, her recognising the damaging affects it has (the conversation she has with Keith abt it at the end of season 2 feels very "You're one of the good ones" coded which is very icky) and then the writers seemingly forget it ever happened (also it lasts like 3 episodes and consists mainly of her just glaring vaguely in Keith's direction instead of any actual confrontation/conflict between them)

Her character is all over the place. One second she is being put in "traditional" female character tropes (which she as a princess trained in combat, diplomacy, and running an entire society of people, should not be put in/have trouble with) like the damsel in distress and the love triangle. The next, she is depicted as unstoppable and a fix-all maggufin like with her alchemy & connection to quintessence. Then they also try to have her work through personal issues/flaws (which I think is what her racism arc was supposed to be???) But they never go into detail & explore said personal issues (which btw were never really alluded to before hand, kind of came out of nowhere)

TLDR: Allura's character was butchered because the writers thought mashing together a bunch of random character tropes without any deeper thought/development = interesting characterisation when really it just made her inconsistent and confusing.

[duellance]

I stumbled across talks on twitter of vld characters but in the style of Arcane sooo ✨💫

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(click for better quality)

[yashley]

that I literally have the assurance I will know about the mighty nein during all of this in just 1 week and yet I'm like matthew please casually say yasha's name

[apprentice-s]

what are everyone’s thoughts on the allura ships

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Are we sure the plan is solid?” Lance asks. He injects as much whiny brat into his voice as he can, hoping to goad Keith into yet another argument to mask the anxiety.

Keith sees right through him, which is unbelievably annoying. His face softens and he steps closer to Lance, away from the two Blades. “We’ve argued about this for four days now,” he says, grinning. “Thought we finally agreed on things yesterday.”

“I’ve never once agreed with you in my life,” Lance grouches. He’s acting like a fuckin’ tsundere dork in a shounen anime and there’s nothing he can do to stop himself. “Like right now. Your plan is so stupid. Splitting up.” He scoffs. “What a dingus thing to do. We’re Voltron! Our whole spiel is sticking together!”

If anything, Keith’s smile only gets softer, indigo eyes sparkling with amusement.

How dare he. Six months ago he would go insane if Lance so much as breathed wrong in his direction, and now Lance is being intentionally irritating and he’s amused? Horrible. He’s the literal worst. Lance should — do something. Ugh. Something unbelievably annoying, then he’ll see.

“We need to be in three places at once, Lance.”

“Well, then Pidge can get to work on a time machine!”

“No,” Pidge interjects loudly, rolling her eyes at Hunk behind Lance’s back. “Will not be messing with the laws of physics because you want to dick around space, alone, with your boyfr— ow, Allura! What was that for?!”

“Anyways, Lance,” Keith continues, graciously ignoring the red across Lance’s face and the various death glares he’s shooting in Pidge’s direction, “c’mon. You know we’ll be fine. Allura and Coran combined are essentially the Justice League all on their own and you, Pidge, and Hunk are Charlie’s Angels, basically.”

Lance’s mouth twitches. “You’re a huge, massive, ginormous nerd, you know that?”

“Whatever,” Keith says, rolling his eyes, but now his ears are a little red, too. “You get my point.”

“Um, no. Three places, six people, I’m great at math. That’s three teams of two! There’s no reason that you need to bug off on your own. I could —” he bites his lip, trying to keep his voice level — “I could go with you. You know. To make sure you don’t go chasing after Lotor like a cracked out chihuaha that’s been personally wronged.”

He has to physically force himself not to turn around at the sound of muffled sniggering. There is nothing wrong with his suggestions, he’s right and he knows he is —

“Frongolian caves are a three-person job, Sharpshooter. C’mon, you know that.”

“Still,” Lance mutters petulantly.

Keith steps closer, putting a hand on Lance’s bicep and squeezing. He can’t feel it through his armour, but somehow it’s comforting anyway.

“We’ll be fine, Bluebell,” he says quietly. His smile goes sideways, squinting his eyes and showing the barest peek of crooked incisors.

Lance exhales loudly. He squeezes his eyes shut, counting back from ten in his head, and when he opens them again he looks closely at Keith, reminding himself to be rational. Keith is quite possibly the most badass person he knows. He’s grown a little in the last few months; he and Lance are the same height now. He’s wicked fast, and when he’s got a sword in his hand he’s king. He’s unstoppable. And besides that, Lance thinks grudgingly, the Blades aren’t too horrible. They are adequate backup, if Lance forces himself to be nice.

Lance slowly brings his other hand up to rest on top of Keith’s, squeezing gently. Keith immediately pulls their hands away from Lance’s arms and links their fingers together between them. Lance holds on tightly.

“Be safe.” He’s never sounded softer in his life. If you took the gooey sweetness out of is voice and injected it into someone’s bloodstream they’d develop a new kind of diabetes and die immediately, Lance is sure. Jesus.

Keith laughs quietly, shoving his helmet on his head and knocking it carefully against Lance’s head.

“I’ll be safe.”

He squeezes Lance’s hand one more time and then he’s off, jogging off towards his lion and waving for the Blades to follow him. Lance watches long after he turns a hallway, totally out of sight. He squeezes his hands into fists, palms warmed by Keith’s touch. God, he’s so —

The smallest of squeak noises sounds behind him, and Lance whips around just in time to see his best friends in the world totally fucking lose it.

“Fuck off!” Lance says hotly, and it only serves to make them laugh harder. Hunk is collapsed on his knees, gasping for breath, every laugh coming out of his mouth louder and more high pitched. Pidge is barely holding herself up on her hands and knees, pounding her fists on the ground with every inhale. Allura is hunched over, hands on her knees, wheezing herself hoarse.

“You guys are the worst! I hate you!”

Pidge manages to grasp onto some strain of control, heaving herself upright, and Lance makes the foolish mistake of being a little bit hopeful that he still has friends who love him.

She reaches up to Hunk, cupping his cheek, and says in her breathiest, most dramatic voice: “Oh, stay safe, my love!”

Lance screams.

Hunk can barely hold on to his giggles — Allura has only gotten louder — long enough to grab her hand, throwing his arm over his forehead and fluttering his eyelashes. “I shall, my dearest Lance, I shall indeed stay safe so we can meet again and smooch in the moonlight —”

Lance covers his burning face with both hands, screeching at the top of his lungs, which only makes the fuckin’ peanut gallery laugh harder.

“Fuck you guys! All of you! You’re the worst and I hope all of you choke on your own spit and die right this second!”

Lance’s humiliated yelling does absolutely nothing to deter them. They laugh and mock until Lance is about ready to shoot them for real, and then luckily Coran sweeps in — chuckling, because he is also a dirty traitor and Lance hates him too — and chides them into being on task, rounding them up and into their lions.

Hunk and Pidge call him Romeo for the entire mission, and for the next month after. Allura vandalizes the door of his room with a giant pink heart that says ‘Loverboy’ in the middle.

He hates having friends. Seriously. There’s nothing in the universe worse than the fact that he would die for each and every one of those disrespectful assholes.

———

based on this beautiful klance animatic and featuring the sound of the team losing their whole shit

[galracreature]

i do wonder what coran and allura would think of spontaneous human combustion. like that just Happens sometimes and nobody is on edge about it?? they’d be horrified

[ethereance]

Screw it. *Genderfluids your Lance* Post s8. Fix it.

Lance thought his Altean markings were cosmetic. Nothing more. Nothing less. A gift from Allura, leaving a piece of her with him, to look back and remember with fondness her company. As if he could ever forget a girl as incredible as her.

It’s not until much later he realises it’s something more. That maybe Allura gave a portion more than he expected. He stares, face to face with his mirror. Something off. Something strange. Something that grabs his attention before he really knows what he’s looking at.

His ears slowly shift back to human. But they were there long enough. He saw the Altean ears.

“Incredible,” Coran says when Lance broaches this to him, and after multiple attempts at trying at failing at repeating what happened in the mirror. At last he succeeds. “You’re shifting just like an Altean.”

“I’m not turning Altean, am I?” he panics. He’s pretty attached to being a human and all.

“Haha! Don’t be ridiculous number three, you can’t just ‘turn Altean.’ Good one! Turn Altean, he says. That’s one to remember for an open mike.” Then Coran takes one look at his genuine distress and sobers. “Rest assured, my boy, you’re one hundred percent earthling, ears and all. Allura wouldn’t change you so completely when she loved you the way you are. It just seems she passed our chameleon-like abilities over to you. I can’t say I’ve ever heard anything like this ever documented before, but Allura…”

“Has a way of accomplishing the possible,” Lance offers when Coran’s eyes grow distant, bittersweet.

“Yes,” agrees Coran. Something proud, something sombre, “That she did.”

***

Lance practices often, following Coran’s guidance. Even Romelle drops by at Coran’s request, eager to show someone the ropes.

“In the colony, we had little need to shift as our ancestors had. Our only home had been there, tucked away in a corner of the universe. We understood little of the outside world except what Lotor brought us. Even so, it was an ability we never lost. When you have mastered it, it’s like walking. It becomes natural. To some more than others,” she says, a surprisingly patient teacher. He wonders where this side of her was when she was trying to get him to teach her to pilot. “You may be the ‘others’! But that okay. My… my brother Bandor was the same.”

For such a bright supernova of a person, it is easy to forget that, like Coran, Romelle has been touched by grief. And grief again.

“You strike me as an adaptable person, pointy chin. Like rivers and oceans, it has made you you. I have full confidence in your abilities. And if Allura were here.” She smiles, and it is pain, but beauty. A flower unfurling in the wake of a storm. “I know she would say the same.”

***

He finds himself slipping into other forms like a glove. It becomes easier, a swifter motion just as Romelle had said.

It’s freeing, in a way. To walk as something so slightly adjacent to him. A Lance of another life. Altean, balmeran, olkari, puigian, anything he can think of.

He loves being Plaxum’s species the most. A mer. Beneath the waves, it feels like coming home. He’s a missile underwater, swimming loops around coral.

Dreams really do come true.

***

There’s something about transforming that pulls him that much closer to Allura. Her quintessence sings to him, and his skin dances. He feels alive as he hasn’t in a long time.

Happier maybe. Or that much closer to it.

He wishes he could take a photo of Keith the second he catches sight of Lance, a good extra foot on him, and purple as a plum.

“So this is a… thing,” says Keith eventually. And what an observation that is. Lance explains.

“Don’t let Hunk catch you like this,” is Keith’s response, a hint of tired amusement, “He’ll call you Galra Lance and never stop.”

***

It starts with him shifting into an unilu. He needs the extra hands. Lance doesn’t realise the gender he’d chosen until Coran points it out offhandedly. Now, Lance knows that not every species is going to be quite so clear cut as biologically male or female. Some have more some have less. Some won’t even know what the word gender means. He has experienced a taste of the universe. He knows how vast and diverse it is. When shapeshifting into a species like that, it makes sense his gender isn’t something he’d retain.

Female. He’d made himself into a female unilu. It was a matter of size and facial shape. Nothing too strange, no stranger than his body shifting into a skin it wasn’t born into, but noticeable enough.

And isn’t that something.

***

It’s out of curiosity he tries the same as a human. Curiosity and nothing more. Just because he can. Really. Honest.

Lance half expects his girl!sona would just be a carbon copy of Rachel with the added blue scales residing beneath his eyes. But that isn’t who he sees in the mirror.

He sees. Well, he sees himself.

Herself.

She looks, feels, kind of pretty. Which makes sense. She’s Lance. Of course she looks great. Goes without saying.

Lance’s lip twitches.

***

So. So maybe he throws on the form again. And again. And again. Maybe a little more than he does with any alien species. But can you blame him? He’s just found out he has a free trial at being a girl so quiznack if he isn’t going to try it out.

Her hair is long. Her hair is short. She pulls off both looks well, she thinks. Being a girl is kind of awesome, actually.

It’s not always the case. Sometimes it just isn’t right. But others? Sometimes he finds himself slipping into her without realising it. It’s just what feels right to her in the moment.

There’s something nice about strangers using ‘she’ and ‘her’ and they don’t know. They don’t know. Something in her bubbles, giddy, they don’t know.

But Lance’s family do. Pidge does.

They look at Lance—now once again a boy—and hum, thoughtful, considering.

“Are you are girl?” they ask. Pidge does not beat around the bush. It throws Lance through enough loops to put him in a spiral.

“No”, says Lance. But for some reason that doesn’t sound quite right. “I mean. I’m not always. But—”

“You are sometimes?”

“I guess. But it’s just shapeshifting. I’m not actually—” Lance trails off, lost. “Am I?”

“Do you want to be?” Pidge asks, and huh. Does he want to be? Is it really that simple? He’s always seen himself as a guy, and had no problems with that. But.

Well.

“… Maybe. Maybe sometimes.”

Pidge grins, wild and victorious. “Welcome to the club.”

(Something in his chest feels lighter. There’s a cavern, because it has made its mark and stayed. That has not changed. But this is this.

How wonderful it is to find the answers to secrets within oneself. He could have lived his whole life without knowing, a part locked away without him ever knowing there was a lock. But now, how could he?

It’s like he’s no longer holding in a breath.)

***

Pidge later tells him it’s criminally unfair he can change his body on a whim. They are fine with she, they are, but they are them. Sometimes she is just too much she to match their they.

Lance wonders how much Allura managed to see him. He remembers how close they became, how she became someone he’d call a best friend, then a lover. How she perceived him better than most throughout it all. Looked to him and saw greatness where he, despite wanting to be so much more, only saw failure. He wishes he knew what she saw when she looked at him. The person he was. Is. Lance.

If she knew what these markings have done for him. Did she know?

She can’t have done. Lance didn’t even know.

(But if she had—

It’s not like Lance can ask.)

***

Allura comes back.

She descends like a shooting star, the blinding light of an angel’s fall. She falls home and it is at home she stays. Days are bliss. A dream Lance dare not wake from.

“You’re not dreaming,” she tells him, soft, and kind, but aching, “I’m here. I won’t leave again. My duty to revive the universe is fulfilled. I’m here to live. And I chose to live with you.”

He kisses the words from her lips, blissfully sweet. She more than happily complies.

“I never meant to hurt you this much.”

“You’re here now,” Lance says, and it sounds so beautiful spoken out loud like this. How long he’s dreamed for such a moment. “That’s all that matters. We can move forwards together.”

This is their start.

***

It takes a while. But she tells Allura.

Allura kisses her senselessly. Lance loves it.

“Though I can’t take credit for this being my intention, I’m glad you learned more of yourself.” Allura’s fondness is an ocean she could drown in. “I love the person you are.”

“Yeah?”

Allura’s hand trails Lance’s ear. “Yes. Very much so. It’s an added bonus that I managed fix your ears. You have tried an Altean form, right?”

Lance jolts. “Allura!” she protests, a little put out. “What’s wrong with my ears?”

“Nothing,“ she says, warm and amused. “Nothing at all. I find that they have grown on me greatly. They’re cute. Just like the rest of my girlfriend.”

Oh. Girlfriend.

Her heart is full.

[imhereformysciencefriends]

@loturaweek2023 Day 4: Free Space!

Tw: Mentions of child abuse

She found him in the garden, hidden under a rosebush, pout to his cheeks and a very unhappy-yet-resigned cat clutched to his chest.

Allura dropped down to her knees in front of him, startling the boy and making him drop the cat, which yowled as it jumped away from him but only went two feet before it sat and started grooming itself.

“Hi!”

“You scared me!” he scolded. “You shouldn’t do that!”

“Oh you’re fine you big baby!” she said with a roll of her eyes, probably getting dirt on her dress (but who cared about that, really, they should’ve let her wear her normal dress if they didn’t want her getting this one dirty!).

He sniffed. “Not for my sake. Of course I’m fine! But you could’ve gotten hurt. I’m a powerful warrior, you know, I might have killed you in one blow when you startled me. You should never sneak up on a Galra.”

Allura rolled her eyes again, even harder this time. “I wasn’t sneaking!”

“Yes you were!”

“No I wasn’t! You just weren’t paying attention!”

“A Galra is always vigilant!”

“Well apparently that’s not true.”

“Yes it is!” he said, pushing forward off his sad little tuckus to shove at her, making her yelp and fall back onto her own rump.

“Hey!”

“That’s what you get,” he sniffed, crossing his arms.

“You’re rude!!” Allura said, all the accusation in her tone as though she’d just convicted him of murder.

“I’m not rude. You’re rude.”

“Me!?!?” she gasped. “I came over here to say hello to you because you were being a little pouty pouter and you shoved me!”

“I wasn’t pouting!”

“Yuh-huh!”

He turned his head away with a lifted nose. “Your way of talking is very low-brow.”

Allura stomped to her feet with a growl and dusted off her skirts, slapping the fabric harder than she really needed to. “Well fine! You just sit here and be miserable and alone! I’m going to take the kitty and go have fun somewhere!”

She scooped the cat up without further ado and started speed walking, the cat growling low in its throat but not making move to swipe at her.

“Hey!” There came a pattering of short legs and small feet behind her. “Hey! You can’t do that! He’s my cat!”

She whirled around to glare at him, sending him skidding to a stop, and stuck her tongue out at him. Then she resumed leaving.

“Oh fine! I’m sorry I shoved you, just give Kova back!”

Allura contemplated continuing to be stubborn, but that’d be mean. And it was his cat. She stopped short, holding onto the cat for a few more ticks for good measure, and then spun and handed the cat back to him.

“There.” She turned up her own nose a little bit, just to make sure he knew she wasn’t about to let him think this meant a victory or anything for him. “What’s even your name, anyway?”

“I am Prince Lotor, of the Galran Empire!” he all but shouted, standing suddenly straight. Then he relaxed, petting his cat on the bridge of his nose. “Who are you?” he asked quieter, now sounding almost shy.

“Princess Allura of Altea.

“Oh,” Lotor said, recognition in his voice. “My father doesn’t like your father.”

“My father says it’s complicated,” Allura said, with all the disdain a child might have for adults’ antics. “He says he used to be friends with your father but then ‘certain matters arose.’”

Lotor frowned. “He’s never told me that.”

“You’re probably just not old enough to understand.” She was, after all, a few years older than him, which meant she was wiser and infinitely more mature.

“I am too! I understand lots of stuff! My Dayak says I’m one of the smartest children she’s ever had the misfortune of overseeing.”

“Does she call you a special little boy, too?” Allura asked, turning and resuming her walk through the garden. She didn’t know what a Dayak was, but she imagined it was probably something similar to an aunt.

“No! Even though I am. Mostly she just tells me what I’m doing wrong and how to correct myself.” Lotor had to halfway trot in order to keep up with her longer legs.

“Oh. My governess does that a lot. Sometimes she makes me sit in a corner with books on my head whenever I’m being ‘difficult.’”

“Mine just hits me.”

Allura stopped in her tracks with a gasp. “That’s terrible!”

“What?” Lotor seemed taken aback. “No, it’s normal.”

“No that isn’t! My father says that people who hit their children are the worst!”

“Well my father says hitting children is necessary to keep them disciplined and promote order.”

“Your father is a real brute!” Allura proclaimed. “I don’t know why mine was ever friends with him!”

“Well, your father is a weak spined coward! So I don’t know why mine was ever friends with him!”

“Hmph!”

“Hmph!”

They both stomped their feet and turned away from each other, Allura’s arms crossed over her chest and Lotor hugging Kova tightly.

“...Maybe we could be friends though?” Lotor suggested. “I don’t think you’re very cowardly.”

Allura deigned to twist just enough to look at him out of the corner of her eye. She stared at him, mouth hidden in his kitty’s fur, and then sighed.

“And I suppose you’re not terrible, or a brute. Even though you pushed me.”

“I said I was sorry,” Lotor muttered, turning just slightly pinkish at the tips of his ears where his velvety fur ran thin.

Allura held her hand out, and Lotor examined it with wide eyed curiosity.

“Come on. I’ll show you how to steal cookies out of the kitchen.”

“Won’t we get in trouble?” Lotor asked, but nevertheless put his hand in hers.

“Only if we get caught!” she conspired, and set off in a run, skirts billowing behind her in the warm Altean sun.