#commander shiro

[kismetconstellations]

Non-Paladin Completely Legal Adult Characters With Whom Shiro Has More Chemistry Than His "Future Husband":

-Ulaz

-Slav

-Coran

-Sam Holt

-Kolivan

-Commander Iverson

-And, The Former Warden of Beta-Traz

[sukoshininja]

Voltron: Legendary Defender S01E01 - The Rise of Voltron

99/157

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[dissociativecasino]

Working on the comic stuff! The sketches are complete but I didn’t want to spoil anything in the comic that could be important- so- here is the dumb page (yes Cayde is arguing with Tevis about a fish)

[discordiansamba]

Krolia: As you know, the Galra take adoptive familial bonds very seriously.

Shiro: I have heard this, yes.

Krolia: Now, it would not matter as much if you were not also Galra now. However, since you are, and since you have claimed Keith as your brother, that now makes me your mother.

Shiro: ...I am still wrapping my head around that idea, but I guess that tracks with everything I've learned?

Krolia: Excellent. Which is why you are also grounded Shiro.

(Adam is trying very hard not to laugh in the background. Keith is not even trying to hide it, even though he is also extremely grounded.)

[keepofkandrakar]

it should not have taken me three watches and several years to realize that Voltron is just very gay Power Rangers 

[uniquecellest]

More Adashi AU

- Adam talks to Shiro while Shiro pilots the Atlas, Adam says some words that feel like a goodbye and Shiro calls out to him. He thinks Adam is dead (Adam was able to evacuate his plane before it crashed with the Galra)

- Upon hearing that the Galra are coming, Shiro and Adam argue over Adam being involved

- Once the quartet of Matt, Adam, Shiro, and Keith are reunited Matt and Keith hound Shiro like annoying brothers for leaving Adam and Keith behind

- Adam saying the words "we're going to get you to the medbay and once you're all healed up we're going to have a sparring match where I throw you around like a rag doll" / "don't ever worry me like that again. I don't know if I can ever take a loss like that again"

-Adam infiltrates Galra forces and travels with them in space. Shiro can't believe what he sees when he thinks Adam is willingly working with Galra

-with Kerberos being considered a bust bc of "pilot error" The Garrison wants to send others into space to retrieve the Kerberos crew. Voltron crew finds Adam's ship just floating in space with no life force seeming to be inside. They investigate to find Adam on the floor and alone. Turns out there's barely enough oxygen for even a new born let alone a grown adult (bonus if Adam's ship was hit with quintessence); Shiro refuses to leaves Adam's side while he's in the healing pod

-Adam somehow being used to help power the Galras main ship that attacked earth like some Alteans were

-They never confessed their feelings so when Shiro is determined to go on Kerberos Adam just sits with his feelings and waits; both thinking they've missed their chance with the other (cue Matt, Keith and Pidge trying to get them together when they reunite)

-Soulmate/soul marks AU where Shiro and Adam do not meet until Shiro comes back from space

- (shout to Chibi-pix for this one) Adam is like a brother figure to Pidge which results in Keith and Pidge being siblings causing Iverson to lose his mind bc Keith and Pidge are Matt and Shiro 2.0s (Lord help him when an Adam 2.0 enters the picture); Adam and Shiro are blissfully aware of their siblings antics but act like they aren't

-Kuron goes to Earth and kidnaps Adam

-Shiro is forced to choose between Keith and Adam

- They start off as a one-sided rivalry until an incident forces them together and they start to get to know each other

-more patient Adam and reckless Shiro

-Adam joins the Blade of Marmora where he runs into Keith (Adam still thinks Shiro is dead) Adam is with him in the two years in the Abyss and reunites with Shiro when Keith returns to the Paladins

-Eros!Adam and Psyche!Shiro

-Teen Titans AU where Shiro is Cyborg and Adam is Bumblebee (points for Kuron being Brother Blood)

-Camp Half-Blood demigod Shiro and Camp Jupiter Half-Blood Adam

-Adam and Matt get buried alive and Shiro is a reck trying to find them (Adam) so they don't die

-Baker/Cook Adam and Shiro who can't boil water without setting it on fire

-Adam and Shiro swap roles (neither are dead though)

-Shiro and Adam meeting once when they were kids but not meeting again until they are older. Both remember but Adam acts like he doesn't recall it at all

-Both are cadets and one has a significant other while the other is pining hard (s/a with the significant other doesn't last long, significant other also happens to be mutuals with Adam and Shiro)

-Shiro trains and gets a bad bruise on his neck that everyone thinks is a hickey until Adam returns from a trip (cue Keith defending Shiro but the other Paladins and co think maybe Shiro cheated)

-Shiro confesses to Adam one night but acts like he doesn't remember it then he and Adam spiral in their feelings

[galraluver]

Just a lil thing I made while watching Fairy Tail after getting inspiration from this particular soundtrack

[poorlytunedukulele]

Azra repressed the urge to fidget, letting her eyes flit back around the circle. She was out of her element in the worst way. Speeches? Storytelling? The weight of all of the attention was suffocating. But unless she wanted to have this conversation a dozen different times with a dozen different people, this was the best option. No matter how much it made her itch to sit here with everyone staring at her.

She took a deep breath. "I think I finally put together what's happened." She looked at Ikora, at Praedyth and Shaxx. "It's more than you think."

"Start from the beginning," Ikora said soothingly.

In an earlier time, Azra would have leaned back and started cheekily regaling them the story of the birth of the Universe. Now, she hunched and rested her elbows on her knees. The beginning? "June fourth, twenty-nine sixty," she decided. 

[vincentpchriswolf]

Shiro-chin from the title screen of the game , love this guy

[kirbysbirthdaycollab]

THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO PARTICIPATED THIS YEAR IN KIRBY'S BIRTHDAY COLLAB!

Organizing an event of this magnitude and in this format was somewhat of a new experience for me, I must admit. The road was a bit bumpy even with all the precautions I took, but we made it in the end! I am proud to present you all the fruits of our collective labors - this collage.

(The full image is too big to be uploaded to Tumblr, but you can click on the link under the image to see the full version uploaded to Google Drive! Trust me, it's worth it.)

Most importantly, this all couldn't have been done without the help of these wonderful people. This year we amassed 72 participants, with 119 characters total drawn. Roll the credits, and (hopefully) see you all next year!

-Mod May

@/shippy.bsky.social - Zero

@isaackkkbunn - Landia, 0²

@spidersandtomatos - Twinkle Popopo (aka classic Kirby)

@zorla4 - Zan Partizanne, purple Fairy of the Sky, Dark Taranza

@waddledoodledee - Shadow Kirby

@day-colors - Spinni

@sacrificecage - Hyness

@pseudogag - Nago

@taranzas-biggest-fan - Queen Ripple/Fairy Queen

@ceoofmetagala - Morpho Knight, Fecto Forgo

@cali-kabi - Sirica, pink Fairy of the Sky

@chibihuey - Shiro, UFO, red and green Kirbies

@circular-pixels - Void Termina, Dyna Blade, Necrodeus & Skull Gang

@endsfunniesart - N.M.E. Customer Service

@warpstarrie - Chuchu

@crystalstars64 - Elline

@deefighter2739 - Daroach

@desultorynovice - Marx, Captain Vul

@holdthelina - Escargoon

@giantchasm - Sectonia & Joronia

@emmyp0ps - Sailor Waddle Dee

@eryth-arts - Susie

@hoshi-no-mahoroa - Pitch

@/kenobi92.bsky.social - Nightmare

@pollyannam3 - Gooey

@gizmogearszz - Star Dream

@chocokeyboard - Coo

@clown--bunny - Gryll

@/itsbbloomand.bsky.social - Poppy Bros. Sr., Puppy and his Mama (from Mario & Kirby Masterpiece)

@itsquakey - Sir Arthur, Pitch Mama

@jojo-schmo - Leon, Carol

@kirbyearthbound - Whispy Woods

@xxrescuexx - Jecra

@forestguardianstudios - Garlude, Fololo & Falala

@kris-mlety11 - Flamberge, Chef Kawasaki

@l0stn3v3rf0und - Kine, Tiff, Tokkori, Gorimondo

@lady-zephyrine - Mine, Nyupun, Vividria, Dark Matter Swordsman, Dark Crafter

@levichouphys - Bonkers, Trident Knight, Dark Nebula, Magolor Soul

@luasumas - Mace Knight, Galactic Nova, Channel PPP Crew, President Haltmann, Sillydillo

@mementomarx - Meta Knight, Lady Like

@gemapples - Bandana Waddle Dee

@mistilteinn-magolor - Francisca

@marsnyann - Rick

@matadede-good - Traitor Magolor

@/mercy.illustrator - Nonsurat, Mr. Frosty

@michiriii - Falspar

@skyhighfae - Miracle Matter

@hyperz0ne - Drawcia, Claycia, Pick

@paintbrushfrog - King Dedede

@pinkestmenace - Doc, Storo

@/mrguesswho.bsky.social - Keeby

@newworld86 - Elfilin

@deafeninggardenerpanda - Dragato

@poppliolover1 - Adeleine

@raddatoons - Yin-Yarn

@remythelad - Galacta Knight

@artxeevee - Dark Mind

@knightmareross - Yamikage

@shibuya-toast - Void

@skitty-kirby - Sword Knight, Blade Knight

@sonyodreams - Dark Meta Knight, Squeakers

@starstruck358 - Taranza

@somethinginworl - Ribbon

@technicianlearner - Robobot Armor, Captain Waddle Doo

@thease2096 - Kracko, Ice Dragon

@/thecreatorlynne - Neichel

@thehollyraven - Fecto Elfilis

@theultimateultimateweapon - Prince Fluff

@a-stardusted-sky - Magolor

@anywaymuahahahaha.bsky.social - Kabula

@voidaxeler - Tuff, Sir Ebrum, Commander Vee, Axe Knight, Javelin Knight

@yirggzmb - Paint Roller, Mr. Shine & Mr. Bright

and Kirby, as we as the background, was done by me, @maybe-arts.

Thank you to each and every one of you. You made this year with Kirby and this collab so special. I'm glad I've met you all. Now, onwards to the bright future! Here's to more years of powerful pink puff!!

[vldunchartedregions]

I see all these comments and notes about changes with Allura and Lotor and Keith and Lance, but where's Shiro in all this? One of my biggest grievances about s7-8 was how they seemed to strip him of his personality and turn him into a bland leader, and it was thought that they might've cut some of his more personal interactions with the team. Does this have any basis in reality?

Hello! Thank you for the question.

This question... is a loaded one and more complicated than one realises.

If you're unaware, Shiro has an complicated history in the corporate realm of developing Voltron: Legendary Defender.

He was meant to die after Season 2.

He was the mentor character; a vehicle to progress a leadership narrative for Keith. That's why he talks about dying in various moments throughout VLD.

Very Gurren Lagann (Simon & Kamina, anyone?)

It didn't happen due to him being the most popular character and they needed to sell more toys.

They even made a joke about it in S4E4: The Voltron Show.

Coran freaks out and tells him they're never letting him go. He's the most popular character.

So TL;DR: They tried to kill him again post Season 6. He truly had no purpose originally past Season 7. The many arcs he had (including the Kuron arc) were resolved already.

He was literally in a coffin in S7E1: A Little Adventure, while the gang tried to find a way to get him to wake up after his Clone body starts to disagree with him.

In one of the drafts apparently as spoken to on the Afterbuzz TV Podcast, the Showrunners wanted to see Allura progress into his commandeering position once Earth and the Atlas came into play. Shiro's current role from S7-8.

Nope. Not allowed.

So, they were able to integrate him in a very impactful way into Season 7 in the final battle, were able to give him a greater purpose in order to save Earth, and we did have some sweet moments in Season 8; Clear Day being one of them.

He played a quintessential role in Season 8 at the commander of the ATLAS, but he did have another core purpose, and of course, this was a mentor role.

Someone to guide the way for others.

Boom.

He was a vehicle for another subplot: The Love Triangle™

Claudia is a character from Macross / Robotech, who lost their Fiancé; a fighter pilot.

Claudia comforts Hikaru, who was just broken up with by Macross Idol, Lynn Minmay, and is currently stuck in a love triangle between her and her childhood friend now supervisor, Misa?

Time to blow your mind.

Both photos were taken by a Beezer equivalent robot, same beep and boop sounds.

Don't believe me? Watch here from 10:20

Sound familiar?

The VAs even mentioned there was a scene between Lance and Shiro that made everyone in the booth cry. We don't ever see this scene as far as we're aware.

The love triangle subplot was cut for the most part, so the mentorship scenes he was meant to have purpose and intent for? The sole reason they instilled the Adam storyline and his death in the first place?

All cut.

TL;DR: He did have a greater purpose to the plot of Season 8, however it was for the most part cut. Boo.

Thank you for the question.

[luvendiary]

ripped / k. kogane

keith kogane x reader

summary: you lost something of great importance of you during a mission. it may seem trivial, but then why is it ripping you from the iside out? a/n: this is my first time writing for keith. but i've been in love with him since i was 13, which is crazy. i remember i discovered the 1975 (which is now part of my personality) thanks to a keith kogane fanfiction on wattpad. not proofread. 5.9k words. no use of y/n.

You didn’t say a word on the way back.

Not when the mission ended. Not when the comms fizzled out, and you gave the signal for pickup. Not when Keith called your name—twice, softly, then louder—but you turned your back to him and faced the cargo wall instead.

He didn’t push. He never did when you shut down like this. His instinct was always to observe first, wait until you were ready. That was one of the things that made being with Keith… easy, even in the middle of war. He never asked you to be stronger than you were.

But right now, you wished someone would ask. Demand it of you. Then maybe, you would feel better about it. I wasn’t like you lost an arm or a leg. You walked away unscathed. But then, why did it feel like a part of you had been ripped away?

When you entered the meeting room, everyone was already there. Of course they were, you had to stay back for a moment, regain your strength for what was coming.

The room was cold. Not physically — the Castle’s systems regulated temperature perfectly — but emotionally. Sterile. Bright. Clinical.

Shiro stood tall, poised and commanding as always. Lance tried to make a joke the moment you entered, something about how you were going without dinner tonight due to losing your race. You didn’t laugh.

Your report had been sent in through the team channel, dry and factual. You’d completed the mission. Escaped. Neutralized the threat. But even as Allura outlined the results, there was a tension in the air. A current. Something everyone felt but didn’t understand

After a moment, she congratulated you on a successful mission. That was brief, however, for not a moment later she was already projecting a map of the next galaxy. You weren’t sure exactly what for, everything was muffled and distant.

“You alright?” Keith whispered next to you. You felt his hand secretly reaching out for yours, but as if it carried electricity, yours flinched away immediately.

He was hurt by this, you could tell by how his head sharply turned to look at you, his brow furrowed in concern. He was trying to make out your expression, but he couldn’t not with your helmet still on.

Allura turned to you, you could tell she knew something was wrong. “Paladin. Is there anything you’d like to report?”

You didn’t answer.

Your breath echoed faintly inside your helmet, each inhale shallow and too loud in your ears. Everyone was waiting, eyes on you now. You could feel it. The room felt too small.

“Paladin?” Allura prompted again, her voice gentler this time. Not as a commander, but as someone who knew now something was incredibly wrong.

Still, you said nothing.

Instead, with slow, deliberate hands, you reached up for your helmet, which came off with a sharp hiss.

You lifted it off, carefully, like if you made the wrong motion, you might shatter.

The air hit your skin.

And then they saw.

The sharp inhale was audible.

Your hair—your long, memory-woven hair—was gone. Cropped close in uneven layers. Frayed, burned at the ends. A choppy, desperate cut.

The beads were gone too. Dozens of them—each one added in remembrance. Each one a story. A piece of your soul.

You’d worn your hair like a tapestry of your people. You were known for it—thick, lustrous, flowing past your waist, decorated with vibrant beads to honor the fallen, to carry their memory forward. In your culture, hair was sacred. It was said to hold memories. Spirit. When someone passed, you wove their bead into your strands so they could journey with you.

Now… now you were empty.

A single tear slipped down your cheek, trailing silently over the grime and ash that clung to your skin.

That was the only crack in your armor. The only sign that inside, you were screaming.

No one spoke.

Pidge’s eyes widened, mouth slightly parted in shock.

Hunk’s expression crumbled instantly.

Lance’s joke died completely on his lips. He looked stricken. Like the ground had shifted beneath him.

Shiro stepped forward—but only a fraction. His brows knit in quiet sorrow, like he was watching a soldier relive a battlefield.

And Allura—

Allura understood first.

You saw it in the soft parting of her lips, the subtle tremble in her voice when she whispered, “Your hair…”

It wasn’t vanity. It was history. It was grief and blood and names woven into each strand.

“I had to,” you said, finally. Voice hollow.

You faintly heard Allura whisper your name as she stepped down and went to comfort you. 

“He grabbed me,” you said next, your voice now coming back to you. As if up until this moment you had been on autopilot, and now, with Allura’s hands softly holding on to your elbow, you had been brought back to reality. “He wouldn’t let go, and he was pulling me toward—” your voice broke. 

You remembered the fire, how the flames had drawn closer and closer as you thrashed against the Galran soldier’s hold. The smoke clawing into your lungs. The burn of the heat licking at your boots.

“I could feel it,” you whispered, shaking your head slowly. “The heat. It was right there. I saw it—my hair—starting to catch. Just the ends, but—”

Your voice cracked, and suddenly it was like it wasn’t just memory anymore. It was happening again.

“I—I didn’t even cut it clean. It just ripped.” You looked up, finally meeting their eyes. “Some of it fell in. Into the fire.”

That’s when it hit.

Not just the grief. Not just the shock.

The loss.

The kind that hollowed you out from the inside.

Your knees buckled. You dropped your helmet to the floor with a dull clang, and Keith caught you before you hit your knees.

You didn’t mean to cry.

But the sob that tore from your throat was raw and unfiltered, full of every unspoken goodbye that had burned in that fire.

“My family was in there,” you gasped, barely audible.

You couldn’t stop the way your body shook—grief like a tide pulling you under, dragging you deeper with every crashing wave.

Keith held you like he could keep you tethered to the surface.

He didn’t flinch at your weight. Didn’t hesitate for a second when you broke apart in his arms. His voice was in your ear—quiet, grounding murmurs, like he was trying to stitch you back together one word at a time. But it sounded far away, drowned out by the millions of voices you had lost. 

You barely registered Shiro’s hand on your shoulder, steady and warm. Or the way Allura knelt beside you, gently brushing some of the ash-matted strands from your forehead.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Shiro said softly. “Come on. You don’t have to be strong right now.”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure you could walk.

Keith helped you to your feet, never letting go. Your legs were trembling—rubbery and weak, like they no longer belonged to you—but between the three of them, you didn’t fall again. Shiro braced one side. Allura the other. And Keith stayed pressed to your back, arms never straying far in case you slipped again.

The rest of the team made space without a word.

The walk to your room felt longer than it was. A walk of shame.

When the door slid open, you hesitated on the threshold.

This was your room.

But you didn’t feel the same.

Like the part of you who used to live here, was still out there, stuck in the fire.

Keith noticed your hesitation. “I’ll stay with you.”

You didn’t even nod. Just stepped in, and he followed behind you without asking.

Allura touched your arm. “We’ll give you space. But we’re right here if you need anything.”

You didn’t have the strength to say thank you. But the way your eyes flicked to her said enough.

Then the door hissed shut behind them.

You didn’t know what to do. You stood there for a long moment, afraid that attempting to take a step in any direction would make you crumble again. 

Your head raced with thoughts. What were you supposed to do now? Everything seemed pointless and futile. Everything but, just standing there. Maybe if you didn’t move ever again, you wouldn’t feel the weightlessness that now clung to you like a ghost.

Wash your face?

You imagined the water running through your hands—cold, clean, normal—and recoiled at the thought. You didn’t want to see your face in the mirror. Not with your hair like this. Not when you looked like someone else. Not when your reflection would only ask the same questions you didn’t have answers to.

Change out of your armor?

But your armor was the only thing still on you that hadn’t burned. The only thing still whole. Without it, you'd just be a silhouette. Empty fabric. No weight.

Lie down?

Your bed looked too soft. Like it would swallow you if you touched it. And what would you even do there—close your eyes and pretend this hadn’t happened? The second you tried to rest, you knew your mind would replay it all. The fire. The tearing. The smoke.

You shifted on your feet, arms stiff at your sides.

None of it made sense anymore. Not your routine. Not the comfort objects in your room. Not the beads that used to hang above your headboard—they weren’t there. You’d taken them down days ago to add more, and never had the chance. Now there was nothing. Just bare string. Mocking you.

Keith hadn’t said anything. He stood a few steps behind you, unmoving, like he knew you needed space to let the panic settle. But he was watching—carefully. Quietly.

You didn’t cry again. You couldn’t. You were past that now. Wrung dry.

But your breath kept catching in your chest in that uneven way. Like your body was trying to remember how to exist with the hole that had been carved out of you.

Keith stepped forward once.

You didn’t react.

Then again, slowly. He didn’t reach for you this time. Didn’t try to hold you or say something that would only echo off the walls of your detachment. Instead, his hand gently ghosted past yours and landed lightly at the small of your back.

Not pressure.

Just presence.

And that, somehow, was worse. It made the ache deeper. Realer.

Your shoulders sank. You didn’t want to move—but you also couldn’t stay standing. Your body was catching up to the exhaustion your mind had been trying to outrun.

He felt it. The way you started to sway. The way your weight shifted, not with intention, but surrender.

Keith didn’t speak. He just guided.

Slowly, he led you to the bed. One step at a time. Not rushed, not forceful. When your knees touched the edge of the mattress, you stopped again.

He gave you time.

And when you sat—mechanically, like it wasn’t even a decision you made—he knelt in front of you, hands still careful and light as if you might shatter on contact.

You stared past him, eyes glassy and unfocused. Then, finally, you sank down sideways, lying on your side atop the blankets, still in armor, still dusty and singed and stiff. You didn’t care.

You didn’t say a word.

Keith didn’t either.

He sat at the edge of the bed beside you, one hand resting lightly near yours, not quite touching.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

Your eyes stayed open. Blinking slowly. Chest rising and falling with a shallow rhythm.

And Keith stayed there, quiet and grounded, like he knew this wasn’t something he could fix. He wasn’t trying to. He was just… here.

He looked at you only when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

You did. And you stared back. 

The castle felt quieter lately.

Not in the way it powered down during travel, or in the way voices hushed before missions. This was a different quiet. One that settled between the walls like dust—unnoticed by most, but heavy all the same.

You hadn’t said much since that night. You answered when spoken to. Ate enough not to raise concern. Trained, but not like before. You moved like your body had weight, but no momentum.

And always, after lights-out, you disappeared to the observatory deck.

Alone.

Tonight was no different.

You sat by the curved window in a tucked-away alcove, knees pulled loosely to your chest, armor swapped out for a simple pajama. The stars shimmered outside, scattered like the beads that used to line your hair.

You traced your fingers over the cropped ends again. They still felt foreign. The edges rough, not yet healed. It had grown a fraction already, but it made you feel worse. Like every inch of regrowth only reminded you how much was gone.

You had stopped crying. But that didn’t mean the ache was gone. It had just gone deeper. Quieter.

You told yourself you were being ridiculous.

Because it was just hair.

Just hair.

Not an arm like Shiro.

Not a family like Pidge.

Not a voice that once belonged to a home.

But every time your mind circled back to the loss, to the weight in your chest, a fresh wave of guilt followed.

You were mourning hair.

You were the last of your people.

The last to carry the sacred tradition of beads woven into memory.

The last to bear witness.

And yet… here you were. Grieving strands of keratin. Beads. Memory tokens.

You tried to push the grief down.

Everyone here had scars heavier than yours, traumas stitched into their bones.

You felt guilty for mourning. Like you were taking up space in the pain room that someone else needed more.

A whisper of movement behind you made you stiffen.

You didn’t look up.

Allura’s voice followed, soft and deliberate. “You shouldn’t be alone every night.”

You didn’t answer.

She didn’t ask to sit—just joined you, her legs folding gracefully beneath her, gaze out toward the stars.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

Eventually, she asked, “Do you know what we did with hair on Altea?”

You blinked, surprised.

“I—I assume it was similar to my home. Symbolic.”

She smiled faintly. “It was more than that. Like your people, we believed hair was sacred. A physical connection to memory. When someone passed, their hair was kept by their closest kin. Not hidden away—but braided into ceremonial ribbons. Worn when the time came to remember them.”

Your throat tightened.

“I keep thinking,” you said hoarsely, “that I should be over it.”

Allura turned, eyebrows gently lifting.

“It was just hair.”

Her gaze didn’t soften.

“No,” she said. “It wasn’t. And you know that.”

You looked away again. “But it wasn’t an arm. Or a home planet. Or a family.”

“It was your family,” Allura said firmly. “The way you carried them. The way you honored them. Those beads… they were your history. You didn’t just lose strands. You lost a tether.”

You bit your lip, eyes stinging. She wasn’t coddling you. She was telling the truth. And somehow, that hurt more than anything else had these past few days.

“I feel so empty,” you admitted, voice barely there.

“You are mourning,” Allura replied. “Not the way others have. Not for the same things. But what you lost mattered.”

You stayed quiet, but the shaking of your shoulders betrayed you.

Allura reached out slowly, brushing a piece of your short hair behind your ear. Her touch lingered, not to fix you, but to ground you.

“When your heart breaks,” she said softly, “the pieces don’t care how big the reason was. They fall just the same.”

You leaned your forehead to the glass, breathing in shaky gulps.

“I don’t know how to carry them anymore,” you whispered. “The ones I lost.”

Allura’s voice was calm. “You already are.”

Days started blurring into each other as you tried to get back to your normal routine. 

Everything felt like a drag. The most miniscule of tasks often taking the longest. 

However, there was a constant in your life. A steady unwavering presence, keeping you anchored — Keith.

He never asked. He never forced conversation. Sometimes he simply sat across the room, tracing constellations on the wall with a finger or sharpening his knives, letting silence fill the space between you

He didn’t crowd you with words or demands. Instead, he stayed quiet, steady—like the ground beneath your feet when the world threatened to spin out of control.

He was there when you woke, when you stared blankly at your reflection, when your fingers absentmindedly traced the ragged edges of your hair.

He was there when you sat on the balcony, shoulders tight, eyes hollow..

You knew he meant well.

Keith always did.

But the way he lingered in doorways, the way he subtly followed you when you wandered too far from the main halls, the way he kept glancing at you when you took too long to answer a question—it all built up like pressure behind your ribs.

Like everyone was walking on glass around you.

Like you were glass.

And for what? For hair? For something so stupid?

You couldn’t even get through a workout without someone checking if you were overdoing it. Or see a hallway conversation quiet down when you walked past. Everyone tiptoeing around your grief like it was something delicate, when all it felt like was rage.

It happened in the training deck.

You missed a shot, something you normally would��ve brushed off with a grunt and a quip.

But Keith stepped closer instead. Not saying anything—just hovering, brows drawn in concern.

And you snapped.

“What?” you barked.

He froze.

“I didn’t—”

You turned around sharply, your blade retracting as you did. “You didn’t have to, I can feel it. You hover over me, like I’m a porcelain doll. Like I’ll break at any moment.”

Keith’s mouth opened slightly. He didn't speak. You didn’t let him.

“But I won’t, okay? Not over this ridiculous, pointless thing that doesn’t even matter.”

Your eyes were burning.

He took a step forward. You took a step back.

You felt like a bomb, something that would explode at any moment. And your better judgement told you that Keith should not be collateral damage. So you pushed him away.

“Just stop looking at me like that,” you hissed, voice trembling. 

“Like what?” His voice was low and steady. 

“Like I’m fragile. Like you’re waiting for me to crack open.”

Keith didn’t move. His eyes searched yours, but you couldn’t tell what for. Answers? Patience? Understanding?

You hated it.

You hated how still he was. How gentle he was.

Because it made you feel like you weren’t allowed to be angry.

And you were. God, you were so angry.

“At least yell back,” you snapped. “Say something. Tell me I’m being stupid. Because I am. This was just hair. Just—” Your voice broke, and your hands clenched at your sides. “Just hair. You’re thinking it. Everyone in this stupid place is.”

You couldn’t stop the tears now. They came fast, stinging hot trails down your cheeks.

You turned away, scrubbing angrily at your face, but the tears kept coming—faster now, messier. The kind that made your chest hitch in a way you couldn’t control.

You hated that most of all.

Your grief had been so quiet for days. It sat inside you like a stone. Heavy. Still.

But now it had cracked open, and everything ugly and loud and furious was spilling out.

“I can’t even be upset without it feeling like a performance,” you gasped, voice raw. “Everyone keeps acting like I lost a limb or a loved one and I—I cut my hair, Keith.”

The silence that followed made you want to scream. You spun on him, wild-eyed. “Why aren’t you saying anything?!”

“Because you’re hurting,” he said simply. “And I don’t want to take that from you.”

That stopped you in your tracks. Like cold water.

You tried to claw back at the anger in you. You could feel it receding, fading into your chest, and you desperately wanted it back. Because at least that way you wouldn't feel so numb all the time.

Your face scrunched, as if you were about to snarl at him. Instead you let out a loud groan and threw your weapon across the room, as you threw yourself against the nearest wall. You slid down, palms pressing against your eyes.

Your knees didn’t buckle this time, but you wished they had. At least then it would’ve felt like someone else was forcing you to fall.

But it was just you. You, finally crumbling under everything you'd buried.

Keith didn’t speak. He just stepped forward and sat next to you. 

You allowed silence to settle between you two. Only being filled by the sound of your sobs and shakes. You felt so extremely pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered eventually, voice paper-thin. “I didn’t mean to snap. I just…”

Keith didn’t move, didn’t interrupt. He sat cross-legged beside you, shoulder barely brushing yours, like any more pressure might break the air between you.

“I don’t know who I am without it,” you said. “It wasn’t just hair. I know it sounds dumb, but it wasn’t. I grew up with it, Keith. My mom braided it. My brother braided it. My birthdays, every solstice, every loss…it was all there.”

Your throat closed on you. You let out a shaky breath. 

You looked down at your hands. At the calluses, the small tremors, the smudge of sweat and training deck dust across your palms. You clenched them hard.

“It was the one part of me that still felt like home.”

Keith was quiet for a while. Then, softly: “I don’t think it’s dumb.”

You hummed, not daring to look at him yet. You pressed your knees against your chest. Maybe if you made yourself small enough, the pain wouldn’t have enough space to thrive.

“I think it’s brave,” he said. “The way you carry people with you.”

You turned your head to find his eyes were already fixed on you. 

“I didn’t know how to help,” he went on, slower now. “But I didn’t want to leave you alone either. So I stayed. I guess… I just hoped it was enough.”

Your lip trembled again. You wanted to say something. Thank him perhaps. But every time you tried to open your mouth, more tears spilled.

Before you could say anything, Keith reached into his pocket.

“I didn’t know when to give these to you.”

Carefully, like he was handing over something fragile, he unwrapped a piece of cloth.

Three beads lay in the center.

Charred. Smoke-stained. But still whole.

“I found them in the wreckage,” he said. “Recognized them. I didn’t know what to do with them. I didn’t even know if I should say anything. But I kept them.”

You stared at them. Your breath caught in your throat.

You reached out slowly, brushing your fingers over the beads. They were warm from his pocket. Worn smooth by memory.

You took them in your palm like they were sacred.

Another cry escaped your throat. You pressed them against your lips. “These were my brothers’.”

Keith’s gaze lowered to analyze the two beads you were pointing at. Your finger moved to pick up the third bead and you lifted it up to eye-level. You laughed a teary-laugh.

“This was for when we got our pet. I was seven.”

You allowed yourself to cry for them for a moment longer. Covering them with the cloth, you didn’t want them to be stained by your grief. 

“Thank you,” you said after a while, and it sounded broken.

Keith didn’t reply. He just gently reached out, pinkie extended.

You didn’t hesitate this time as you intertwined your fingers together.

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t leave.

Something was different the next morning.

You couldn’t quite name it. It wasn’t that the weight was gone—grief didn’t vanish overnight—but the pressure that had been sitting on your chest for days… had shifted.

For the longest time, you felt as if it had been looming over you— a suffocating cloud of darkness that would not let you breathe properly.

But on this particular morning, you found grief sitting next to you. As if it was an old friend.

Keith had stayed with you again. Fell asleep in the chair beside your bed, head tipped slightly forward, arms crossed in that way he always sat—like he was half-ready to jump into battle if needed. The dim blue glow of the castle lights painted his face soft and muted.

He hadn’t spoken much last night after giving you the beads.

He hadn’t needed to.

He stayed. That was enough.

You slipped quietly out of bed, padded into the bathroom, and stood in front of the mirror.

Your reflection didn’t surprise you anymore. The rough, jagged edges of your hair had become familiar. You’d stopped flinching. Stopped looking away.

But this morning… for the first time, you reached for the brush.

The bristles caught in places. Snagged on the uneven strands. You worked carefully, untangling them one by one. You didn't rush. There was no one watching, no one expecting. Just you, in your own time.

When the tangles were gone, you stared for a while. Just breathed.

Then, slowly, you parted a section of hair behind your right ear.

Fingers steady.

You began to braid.

The motion was instinct. Muscle memory.

Over. Under. Over again.

And when you reached halfway down, you paused.

You walked back into the room and opened the drawer where you'd carefully placed them the night before.

The beads Keith had saved.

You threaded them onto the end of the braid, fingers slow but sure.

They clicked gently together. Familiar.

You tied it off with a scrap of twine.

Then you turned to the other side and braided again—smaller this time, nothing fancy. You weren’t trying to recreate what you’d lost. Just… carry it forward.

Two braids. Simple. Steady.

You didn’t cry.

But you smiled.

Just barely.

For a moment, you felt anger resurface in your chest again at the reflection. The smile felt fake and forced. 

You closed your eyes, breathed deeply and tried again.

You didn’t force it to reach your eyes, you didn’t even show your teeth. But it felt like a step in the right direction.

You heard Keith stir behind you. After a brief moment he joined you in the bathroom, standing behind you, assessing your reflection. He blinked sleepily, eyes still heavy with rest.

He smiled before leaning over you. Resting his head on your shoulder and pressing a small kiss on your cheek.

It didn’t happen all at once.

You didn’t wake up suddenly fine. No one expected you to.

But day by day, moment by moment, things began to shift.

It started the day you braided your hair again.

You walked into the dining hall for breakfast—not late, not hiding—and the room went quiet. Not like before, when everyone froze in shock or uncertainty. This time, it was reverent.

Because they saw the beads.

You sat beside Pidge without saying anything.

She just offered you a slice of toast with a nod, and you took it.

That was enough.

Later that evening, you joined them again. This time, for game night.

It was Lance who noticed first. His head snapped up when you entered, already in the middle of dramatically losing to Hunk in a trivia round.

He opened his mouth, probably to say something extremely Lance, but for once—he didn’t.

Instead, he offered you a seat beside him.

“You’re just in time to lose horribly,” he said with a grin.

You rolled your eyes. “You say that like it’s new.”

Laughter bubbled around the table. It wasn’t the loudest or brightest night—but it was the first one that felt normal again.

You didn’t hide after that.

You showed up for training. You helped Pidge fix a communication relay. You teased Keith under your breath during sparring, and he smirked that tiny smirk of his in return.

You still had hard days. Quiet mornings. Moments where the grief crawled up your throat unexpectedly. But you let yourself feel them now. You didn’t bottle them up.

You welcomed it in. Like an old friend who had been hurting just like you. You tried to sit with it as long as possible.

Slowly, it got easier. 

You found that keeping a routine helped you. Small moments during the day you could rely on. At night, when the castle had gone mostly quiet, you stepped out onto the observatory deck.

The stars stretched overhead in waves—endless, cold, beautiful. Your eyes flicked up to them instinctively, mapping constellations you’d memorized as a child. Looking for home, even if it wasn’t there anymore.

You heard footsteps behind you but didn’t turn.

“I figured you’d be here,” Keith said softly, joining you at the railing. “You always are, after game night.”

You shrugged. “Old habits.”

He leaned beside you, his presence steady and unintrusive.

You were quiet together for a while, just watching.

You glanced at him, eyes soft. “Thanks for not disappearing.”

He looked at you like that was the strangest thing you could’ve said. “I never planned to.”

You both went quiet again, the silence this time not heavy, but peaceful.

Eventually, you took a deep breath, and reached up to touch the braid just behind your ear. The beads clicked softly against your fingers.

“I think I’ll add another braid tomorrow,” you said.

Keith glanced over, his mouth quirking slightly. “Yeah?”

“Something to look forward to. I’ll make it a wish, and I’ll keep it with me.”

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, then drifted back to the stars.

“Good,” he said. “You deserve those too.”

It became a quiet tradition after that.

For every mission completed, for every planet visited, for every birthday, for every night you let yourself laugh again—another bead was added.

Some were simple. Others glittered with strange materials from alien markets. A few you carved yourself, late at night with a scalpel and a steady hand, shaping memory into something tangible.

Your hair grew longer by the week—awkward at first, the regrowth uneven and unruly—but you didn’t hide it. You wore it loose more often now, sometimes in partial braids, other times pulled back with old cords or woven bands.

Each bead had meaning.

For your brothers.

For the night you started to feel like yourself again.

For the planet with twin moons and singing trees.

For the day Pidge built you a scanner that could record constellations and name them after anything you wanted.

They were yours.

And you carried them with quiet pride.

That night, you were late to dinner. You’d been helping Coran fix a glitch in the water filtration system (which was mostly him gesturing wildly and you pretending to understand the nonsense he was spewing).

As you made your way toward the dining hall, you heard it—hushed voices, hurried shuffling, then an unnatural stillness.

You paused just outside the door, frowning.

Then stepped in.

The silence was immediate.

Allura froze mid-step. Hunk nearly dropped a spoon. Lance blinked like you’d caught him sneaking something. Pidge’s face was unreadable. Keith was at the edge of the room, arms crossed but his eyes very, very focused on you.

You blinked.

“What?” you asked, glancing around. “Do I have something on my face?”

No one said anything. 

You rolled your eyes, moving casually toward the fridge. “Seriously, you guys are acting like I just walked in with a Galran warlord or something.”

Behind you, Keith cleared his throat.

You paused, slowly turning.

Shiro stepped forward, hands folded behind his back, voice a little more formal than usual. “We, uh… we’ve been meaning to give you something.”

You blinked. “…Okay.”

Everyone exchanged glances. Then Hunk stepped forward, holding something in his hands.

A small, shallow bowl.

He offered it to you with both palms, almost reverently.

Your brow furrowed. You glanced at him, then down.

Inside were seven beads.

Each unique. Each clearly chosen with care.

You were speechless.

Your fingers hovered over the bowl, and you couldn’t look up. Your throat was suddenly too tight.

“Mine’s glittery,” Lance said proudly, as he pointed in the general direction of his bead. “Obviously.”

“You don’t have to wear them,” Allura spoke up. “We just wanted you to have them, they’re yours to do as you please.”

She understood. More than anyone. She was the last of her kind, too. The last to carry tradition. The last to remember. And here she stood, offering a piece of herself to help you carry yours.

You smiled down at the bowl, feeling tears prick at your eyes.

They weren’t the same kind that had haunted you weeks ago—sharp, angry, uncontrollable.

These were soft and gentle.

You laughed. Breathy and uncontrollable. The tears didn’t stop.

That seemed to be the response they all needed. The tension in the room melted like morning frost. 

Like a blooming spring after the longest and coldest of winters.

Later that night, you sat on the floor of your room, legs crossed, bowl of beads beside you. 

Your hair had grown more than you realized. It brushed just past your shoulders now.

You braided slowly. You took your moment with each bead, adding them to the same braid. Just beside the one for your brothers.

Fingers careful, breath even, you wove in Lance’s glittering mess of a charm. Hunk’s small piece of meteorite, Allura’s polished marble, Coran’s slightly off centered one… 

You chuckled softly, lips tugging up.

The room was quiet, still. The kind of peace you’d once forgotten how to find.

But then—you felt it.

A shift in the air. You turned, instinctively.

Keith stood in the doorway. Leaning against the frame, arms folded. His eyes were on you, but not in a way that made you feel watched. It was gentler than that.

When your eyes met his, he smiled. A small, rare thing that crinkled the corner of his eyes.

You smiled back.

“Thought you’d be on the observatory deck,” you said softly.

“Thought you’d be up there too,” he replied, stepping in slowly. “Guess we were both wrong.”

You turned slightly, patting the spot on the floor beside you. “Come here.”

Keith walked over and sat down next to you without question, his knee touching your thigh. He looked down at the bowl still resting beside your knee.

“You’ve added them,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

“Not all of them yet,” you replied.

You picked up the last one.

His.

Small. Dark red. Steady in your palm.

You turned to him, tilting your head slightly.

“Do you want to braid it in?”

Keith blinked. His eyes flicked from your face to the bead in your hand, then back.

“I… can?”

You nodded. “It’s yours. If you want it there.”

His fingers hovered for a second—uncertain, reverent.

Then he reached out, and you turned so your back faced him. Gently, you lifted the braid for him to see.

Keith was quiet as he worked. Careful, deliberate. His fingers brushed your hair like it was sacred.

When he finished, he let his hand rest for just a moment longer than needed. Then he sat back.

“There,” he said, barely above a whisper.

You turned around and faced the mirror again. The bead glinted faintly beneath the rest—small, subtle, solid.

You smiled.

“Perfect,” you said.

He looked at your reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah, perfect.”

[discordiansamba]

the funniest possible ending for the commander and druid AU is that Shiro ends up as the new Galra Emperor at the end of the series. They take their eyes off Shiro and Keith for five seconds, and the next thing everyone knows they're participating in the Kral Zera. again.

[idkfitememate]

Shiro Enjoyer here,

Hear me out, a dog/cat creator but because of the games mechanics, they can't pet them, pick them up etc., and can only watch on in horror at the chaos they commit

Inazuma Encounter

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : Canine Bushin!Reader x Inazuma

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. :

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Crack

Aether had seen all the dog breeds across the world of Teyvat. He honestly didn’t even think about all the diffrent dog breeds he’d see on the way, the puppies becoming after thoughts in his mind as he traveled.

Sure, he desperately wanted to pet them from time to time, but it was as though the universe itself hated his guts because for some unthinkable reason, he couldn’t pet them. He could get as close as he wanted, but no petting.

Right now, however, Aether did not want to pet a dog. He needed to restrain a dog.

The Traveler had come back to Inazuma to drop off a couple things for a couple different people, say hi to some friends, the usual. But instead, he found himself watching a dog the size of a bear, donned with one the largest broadswords he’d ever seen with a catalyst floating ominously behind it.

It swung violently at Fatui members on the harbor, next to what he could only assume to be a Fatui ship. The grunts were moving large crates both on and off the boat, the dog guarding the passage. The dog sat on its haunches, tail entirely still as the broadsword sat loosely in its maw. Its sharp gaze ran over every grunt in the vicinity, and even as Aether hid further inland, he was 99.9999% sure the dog had noticed him.

“You’re suspicious of that dog as well?” Aether jumped, looking over to find Gorou crouched beside him, ears twitching angrily.

Aether nodded and Gorou huffed. The two were silent while watching the large dog order about the Fatui members with loud, commanding barks that echoed.

“I’ve been watched them for a few days,” Gorou muttered suddenly, “they haven’t done anything per se… but it’s still suspicious, right??” He whispered urgently. Aether nodded, taking his eyes off the dog to look Gorou in the eyes.

The Inu’s ears twitched, and his head shot back into position, finding that the large Fatui dog… was gone.

“HUH?!-“ he exclaimed, jumping up and stringing his bow, hands steady as he looked around, fangs bared. Aether jumped up as well, summoning his sword.

Silence surrounded them, save for the confused shoutings of the Fatui members down below. The two stood back to back, breathing steadily, looking aware warily.

It was sudden, the way you dropped from the sky, broadsword stuck deep within the earth between them. Aether and Gorou jumped away, both aiming their own attacks. Gorou launched a barrage of Geo infused arrows while Aether leapt forward to strike with an Electro infused blade.

You looked up from your blade, eyes steadily taking in both attacks for what they were worth. You could feel their piercing gazes.

You could feel those gazes turn to shock and maybe even fear when Anemo swirled around you violently, allowing for you to take flight. Subsequently, all attacks missed, but now the duo watched as your blade wretched itself from the earth below and flew up to you, hovering ominously beside you.

Aether watched, jaw clenched, as a hat flew from over by the ship with a little emblem stamped on its front, and now that he was really looking, also on your collar.

You set yourself down gently, the air crackling with Electro and storming with Anemo. A strong gust kept both Aether and Gorou confined inside a quickly formed arena. The hat was laid on your head, ears poking through holes at the top. Finally, the emblems upon your form had the chance to shine.

The sign of a Fatui Harbinger.

You growled, and Fatui dressed like the Samuri of the land slowly creeped in from the shadows, holding swords of their own. A particularly large one stood tall and spoke.

“BOW TO THEY: NUMBER SIX, OF THE FATUI HARBINGERS - THE RUGANTINO!”

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note: Eating steak rn hbu

[atiianeishaunted]

blue writing is lance's notes fyi anyway uhh character bios below !! long ass writing warning but worth it i promise chat pspsp | no notes version AND the transparent PNGS down at the end!

character bios:

Allura [???] | A lone princess who is burnt out and stressed out her mind, her only solace/stress relief being the garden she has where she can have peace and quiet, shutting her brain off while she does the tasks of tending to her precious plants and bugs. She tries her best to remain as friendly and optimistic as possible, if not for her own sanity, however thanks to the stress and pressure put on her, she has a tendency to lose her cool and sometimes shut down entirely. She has a passion for commanding and loves honing her fighting skills as that was one of the ways she bonded with her father. She more often than not can be seen in comfortable clothes, she doesnt mind dresses and does enjoy dressing up but will only do it when shes going out the castle or theres a meeting. | this gal couldve been an burnt out autistic queen DREAMWORKS, YOU COUDLVE MADE HER ICONIC .... let her be a dorky nerd whos a hater sometimes, pretty please

Takashi Shirogane | A garrison commander (no one is really sure of his job title to be honest with you..) who's insanely passionate about his job, to the point where hes willing to sacrifice it all if the garrison wills it. Anything to serve. He tries his best to fit in and be hip with the kids, he tries to come across as the 'chill' teacher, but students of his have reported that after a few months, any amount of chillness is thrown out the window. If not that, hes often not even in class, too busy doing missions he wasnt assigned to. He's intense. Very intense. Knows his way around words though for the most part, can be very convincing and a bit maniuplative, very goal driven. He means well though? Thats what he says. He always throws a quick sorry if someone brings it up with him, so that must mean something. | sorry in advance if you follow along with Sonder's story... unrelated but dreamworks wrote a banger antagonist without even realizing!

"Keith" Kogane / "Morse" | Unknown origins. He was a talented garrison pilot who could practically fly with his eyes closed, a jack of all trades, short tempered and prone to losing it but all things considered, the perfect cadet for the garrison's goals, he came out of nowhere practically, just poofed in like a ghost and wiped the floor with everyone. He really just needed a good guiding hand. No one is quite sure what gender he is, his androgynous appearance and tendency to respond to anything besides being called a girl have people baffled to say the least. He's very clearly not all there in the head either which goes hand in hand with his odd bursts of ego and then odd bursts of whining, these bursts often include talks that could only be described as cult-ish. People have their theories. Beyond those bursts, hes mostly very deadpan and quiet. But despite his strength and that intense feeling of fear and dread people get when they're around him, he's.. popular, somehow. Admired greatly for his devilish good looks. A universal appeal if you will. He doesn't seem to notice. Or perhaps doesnt care. Either way he's far too busy following Shiro around and treating him like the second coming of god to really indulge in romance for now. Lance's self proclaimed rival, Keith is also unaware of this. | also sorry in advance for this one if you follow sonder's storyline Lance McClain | A former Garrison cargo pilot who moved up in rank when Keith got kicked out. Keith is his rival and also all that Lance can talk about, even after the guy got kicked out and left for dead (Lance overheard some things while sneaking out past the teacher's lounge). He has a very noticable personality and loves to be the center of attention, hes still finding his footing and figuring out what he wants to do with his life and who he wants to be. Despite his many claims, hes not all that popular. He can't really flirt with girls all too well. His general goal is to be so well known so he won't ever be forgotten, hence why he begged his mom to let him dye his hair and get piercings (if he used Keith as an argument, thats none of your business.) (he saw keith dying his hair once or twice and instantly wanted to copy, its a bad habit.). He loves LOVES taking care of his appearance and is fairly vain, he has extensive routines and will freak out if he can't follow them. His ego and overbearing confidence is all to drown out his deep insecurities and fears. He tries his best to come across as a suave, cool, charming, awesome, any positive adjective really, person but in all reality he's a mama's boy, a dork, a loser if you will who has a love for the retro and is a huge gamer. If he must admit, he and Keith'd get along great actually, Keith ticks alot of boxes and honestly Lance deeply admires him and wants to be like him. | dreamworks dropped that lance was a gamer and loved retro stuff and then never talked about it again. sigh. Hunk Garrett | Hunk has many passions, mainly inspired by parents, he mainly specializes in cooking and mechanics, he enjoys tinkering with things, taking them apart to see how they work and working from there to see if he can rebuild it with 0 instruction, hes gotten good at it. He's Lance's childhood best friend, they're extremely close and are often seen constantly poking fun at eachother. Its all in good fun though. Hunk struggles extremely with anxiety and has a service dog back home that he left at home when heading to the Garrison as he worried he couldn't take care of it while studying. Despite his anxiety, he quite enjoys talking to people and sharing things he enjoys with them, he often tries to get over his fears by branching out and | I looked up his name from the old show because he deserves an 'actual' name, free my boy, he was done so dirty, also i remember when we all thought hunk had two moms (or was that just me ..) and i live by it tbh, two moms and a dad whos still active in his life, 3 whole parents for the greatest fella ever

Pidge Holt | Not much can be said about Pidge, they keep to themselves and don't share much about themselves. Just like Keith, their gender is often up to debate and when asked, Pidge will never give a consistent answer. They're a major tech wiz and with their talents, they're a complete menace. Pidge is prone to being mischevious and pranking others, often taking jokes a bit too far. They're egotistical and find that robots are their preferred companions in comparison to humans. | loser chronically online 13 year old who would tell you to kys, matt probably has to take away their electronics all the time LMFAO purposely made their outfit look a bit strange bc , theyre a kid whos a NERD /aff let them dress a bit stupid and let them cringe at it 5 years later ty

No notes version and PNGS below :-)

im insane about this reboot!! please reblog and im willing to elaborate if anyone wants me to <333 hrgfhrfg i really want this to take off bwaa

[theredbladepaladin]

Keith was antsy in a way he hadn't felt in a while, and especially not when it came to Shiro. He used to be able to read the older paladin better than most other people, but ever since Keith's fight against Kuron, things between them seemed to shift, and not for the better.

He knew something was up when Shiro chose to travel back to Earth in Pidge's lion rather than with him. Then, from there... there seemed to be no time to even breathe, let alone talk. It became one non-stop mission after another, and then Shiro became busier than ever having been promoted to the Commander of the Atlas.

Though, finally... there was a brief period of quiet. He didn't wanna face Honerva, knowing that there was the possibility of death--and not have his last days spent around Shiro being non-existent.

So, doing what he did best, he waited for everyone to go back to their barracks in the Garrison before sneaking off towards Shiro's upgraded chambers. Once he was outside of the door, he sucked in a deep breath and let it out. Why did he feel so damn nervous at the prospect of speaking with his best friend? He hated this.

Raising his hand, he hesitated for a moment before knocking quietly. "...Shiro?" He called through the door. "Are you still awake?"

@palidinus