#even IF most of his clothes weren’t on Kerberos

[void-tiger]

Shiro’s s1 outfit is essentially old riding leathers that prolly were a bit too big preKerb which now...fit very well (except too baggy in the waist); a skintight leftover underarmor turtleneck that somehow didn’t make it to Kerberos; and a much loved vest loaned to him by Keith (because he’s cold, the leather pants are baggy even with the belt, and...screw it. If the pants are gonna fit tight he’d rather not have those new baratiddies sticking out, too). Oh, and a pair of snowboots he barely wore. But kept them because the few times it DID snow in Arazona Winter, it snowed A LOT.

...and of course it all works together because Shiro’s the one wearing it.

But, like. No wonder he seemed most comfortable in his Black Paladin armor. Can somebody PLEASE take this poor man shopping?

[izlaria]

Someone you like (part 2)

This is the second chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform.

Feel free to write comments in the tags or send me messages about this. I love feedback!

16 and 14 years old

Pidge Gunderson. I am Pidge Gunderson.

Katie looked herself in the mirror, trying to convince her brain that the image reflected was hers, that it was a boy, with no previous links to the Garrison, someone who had wanted to go into Communications.

It didn’t really work. All she saw was Matt: his glasses; his short, unkempt haircut; his nickname for her.

Maybe it was better like this. Katie had initially meant to immerse herself in this new identity, to go so deep into Pidge Gunderson that no one would be able to see past the cover, but the truth still kept slipping through her defenses. Katie was a Holt and her family was missing, so she was gonna find them. Pidge was just a tool.

It would be easier if there weren’t so many risks in studying at the Garrison.

Her father hadn’t brought her around often, but Katie had become infamous among the night-time security for her excursions to discover sensitive information regarding the Kerberos mission. Iverson, in particular, was probably expecting a new advance on her part.

He hadn’t recognized her, yet.

Sometimes Katie worried that she’d already been exposed and that they were just gathering evidence before actually making a move against her. If the Garrison was willing to lie about her father’s and brother’s deaths, then she couldn’t overlook the possibility that corruption ran deep within the organization.

She sighed, tugging at the ends of her hair.

“Come on, Gunderson!” she heard someone shout from outside her door. “You’re coming to lunch with us whether you want to or not!”

Lance continued to make noises, probably talking to Hunk. They usually threatened to hack into her keypad if she didn’t come out to join them for meals. Katie couldn’t really understand their stubbornness. She might have appreciated their offer of friendship back in Middle School, when she’d felt ostracized by her peers, but now it was just another hazard to her already convoluted plan.

“Go bother some poor girl, McClain!” Katie shouted in response, feeling more inpatient than strictly necessary.

She knew that Lance meant well, but she didn’t have time for his hijinks. Katie had a duty to her family, first and foremost, and any effort spent placating her teammates was a waste in that regard. Not to mention that Lance had a knack for attracting attention that completely opposed her own need to remain unseen.

Her door slid open with an elegant swoosh.

Katie poked her head from the bathroom to glare at the two boys who stood there. Hunk had the sense to look ashamed, but Lance just grinned.

“It’s bonding time, Pidge!” He stepped into the room, arms wide open. His easy smile was the same as ever, despite the news they’d received earlier that day about their performance stats. It was probably why Lance was there, after all.

Katie actually felt a little bad about the whole thing. She wasn’t particularly invested in training as a communications officer and, though she wouldn’t say it affected her retainment of the knowledge demanded from her, it certainly translated into frustration when they were in the simulator.

She wasn’t much of a team player, Katie could admit.

“If you’re trying to get on my good side, this is not how to do it,” she grumbled, trying her best to keep her voice low. Too much of a change would eventually weight on her vocal cords or sound plain ridiculous, but a difference in pitch and speech patterns were certainly necessary to disguise her true identity. Thankfully, any slip up could be attributed to puberty, as she’d been seeing many of their male classmates endure the difficulties of cracking voices.

Lance took her by the shoulders and shook her indiscriminately. “Quit being the worst!” His cheerfulness hid the vexation that Katie knew he truly felt. “We’re having burgers today, so I’m not letting you bring us down.”

She snickered. Lance was notorious for his love of junk food, despite Hunk’s attempts to get them more nutritious meals. He frequently spoke about his mother’s cooking but didn’t seem to have that same interest in the dietary plan prepared by the Garrison.

Katie couldn’t really fault him for that. Their meals were usually so blend that they seemed to withdraw taste from any of the condiments added.

From behind Lance, Hunk had finally gathered enough courage to come in. He looked around in such false innocence that Katie might have believed him, hadn’t she caught him going through her drawers the previous week. That boy was nosy as hell.

Just another reason to keep them away.

“If I go with you to the cafeteria, does that mean I can get you out of my room?” She fixed them with a stony look.

“For a time,” Lance offered, all cheeky and bright and annoying.

Hunk put a hand on his shoulder, pulling his friend back from Katie. “We noticed you didn’t eat yesterday, again.” He sighed. “If you took better care of yourself, we wouldn’t come here so often.”

Katie let that reasoning sit with her for a bit. She usually sneaked granola bars and other less-perishable types of food into her room to eat while she worked, but it was true that she didn’t really sit for meals unless the boys pushed her. She didn’t think they would notice.

It brought a strange warmth to her chest. She’d felt cold for so long now, always at arm’s length from those around her. Her mother had tried, but she was grieving and her suffering filled her until there was no more room for her daughter. These small kindnesses had gone away with Matt.

She struggled not to reach into her pocket for the picture she kept of them. Hunk had a curious soul and Lance was a gossip; they had almost caught her one too many times.

“I guess I did want your input on how to recalibrate this old radio I found in the junkyard…” Katie huffed out a breath, which the boys took as a surrender.

“Ah, nothing like the smell of oil and grease to really improve the day!” Lance put an arm around her shoulders, but she quickly dodged away, lest he recognize anything different about her body. Even though she was already pretending to be a boy, Katie didn’t want to also have to pretend to be trans. It was a line that she dared not cross, morally.

She felt the dysmorphia more acutely than she’d imagined she would. As a child, she had enjoyed cutesy things and dresses and her long hair. The sudden departure from those possessions was supposed to remove her from her previous identity, but Katie would always know the truth. There was no escaping it.

More than anything, it was the inability to choose that left her frazzled. The loose clothes and glasses and boyish haircut didn’t bother her and they did give her a liberty that more feminine wear didn’t, but Katie wished the circumstances allowed her to be a girl too, sometimes.

Alas, here she was, stuck between Hunk and Lance as they basically escorted her to the cafeteria. Matt would have a conniption if he ever found out there were boys breaking into her room at all times of the day.

“You thinking about those amazing fries we’re gonna get?” Lance sighed dreamily. “Honestly, I don’t know how they do it. Every other meal freaking sucks, but then Monday comes around and the cooks just nail it!”

Hunk chuckled, nodding along. “They probably want to put us in a good mood for the week. Everybody knows that getting back to classes after the weekend can be hard.”

“Hard? It’s impossible.” Lance dragged his hands through his face. “I nearly fell asleep during Arithmetic today. Professor Reeves is such a bore!”

“Maybe you wouldn’t fall asleep if you didn’t spend Sunday nights in town,” Katie quipped before she could stop herself.

“Yeah, well,” Lance floundered. “What’s your excuse, then? You won’t come with us, but you still look dead on your feet in the mornings!”

“I’m just not a morning person.” She crossed her arms, turning away from Lance.

In doing so, however, she came face to face with Hunk, who was staring at her with an inquisitive look. He was less loud about it than Lance, but it was clear that he also had questions about what Katie spent her time doing.

She tightened her arms around herself, feeling her stomach drop.

This was why Katie didn’t like to talk to them. It was usually easy to ignore Lance, because of how over-the-top he was, but Hunk’s gentleness and concern made the guilt rise within her. She didn’t want to involve other people in her lies, didn’t want them to believe Pidge was their friend only to be faced with a betrayal.

And that’s how they would see it, wasn’t it? Katie didn’t have a lot of experience with friendships, especially not ones as deep as Hunk and Lance’s, but no sane person would take it lightly to find out someone had lied about their whole identity and motivations.

Besides, if she ever did find out what the Garrison was hiding, it could possibly affect the future of the organization and disrupt the trajectory of every student there.

Before Katie could go further into her spiraling thoughts, she felt Hunk maneuver her into the cafeteria line. She had tuned out the rest of their conversation and now Lance spoke of a girl in his Aerodynamics class.

She ignored his ramblings. Lance tried to project this image of a lady’s man, but the few dates he’d scored since they started school never seemed to really move forward. They ended up in an endless cycle in which Lance fixated on some girl, hit on her endlessly, then finally gave up and went crying to Hunk.

Katie couldn’t see the appeal of it, but it most likely had to do with Lance’s self-esteem and need for validation.

“I think Jiya might actually like me!” he declared, despite how both Hunk and Katie were more focused on filling their trays with food. “Whenever the teacher asks me to stay behind and clean up, she stays to help! That has to mean something!”

Katie collected her juice box and went to sit down, pointedly ignoring Lance’s questions.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Hunk said agreeably. He didn’t sound too sure, but his expression showed that he was trying to be positive for Lance’s sake.

“Or, you know, the girl is just a nice person who thought you were being picked on by the teacher.” Katie raised her eyes to give Lance an unimpressed look. “And you’re reading too much into it.”

The boy scowled at her. “What would you know, Pidge? I’ve never seen you with a girl before.”

“Yeah,” she raised an eyebrow, feeling smug that the other two wouldn’t understand the humor in this. “What do I know of girls?”

Katie had to suppress a laugh when Lance turned to her with a very confused expression. Hunk, however, gave her a small, secretive smile that set off all kinds of warning signs.

“I don’t get it,” Lance complained to Hunk, then turned back to her. “I don’t get it!”

“Well,” Hunk started and immediately her heart started pounding in her chest. Outwardly, Katie tried to remain impassive. “The girls in our class all love Pidge.”

“They do?!” Lance burst out, eyes widened. His gaze shifted back and forth between her and Hunk.

They didn’t, Katie was pretty sure. Did they?

“They think he’s cute,” Hunk confirmed, waving his fork in the air as if trying to recall the exact words. “Pidge is quiet, but he’s smart and mostly polite, so Denise decided he was a good guy and the rest of the girls kinda followed her lead.”

Now that Katie thought about it, it was true that she’d helped Denise with her Bio homework and that people had been nicer to her since. She supposed they could see Pidge in a good light, especially because he seemed so much younger than the other students in Engineering.

Katie blinked rapidly to dispel her thoughts. She’d been thinking of Pidge in the third person, again.

“Fine, then.” Lance narrowed his eyes at Katie. “What miraculous advice do you have for me, oh Great Pidgeon?”

Despite his sarcasm, it was clear that Lance truly wanted an answer. It was one of the most ridiculous situations Katie had ever found herself in.

“How about you show some interest in what these girls like, instead of showboating around them?” She flicked a fry at him, which Hunk quickly stole for himself. “Sure, some people want to be impressed, but we all got into the Garrison and a lot of them already know your grades on the simulator. Most girls want someone who will listen and who they can have fun with.”

“I can be fun!” Lance protested.

“I get what Pidge’s saying, though,” Hunk intervened. Katie hadn’t meant to be harsh, but Lance suddenly looked a little deflated. “We know that you’re great, but you’re always so busy trying to be what these girls want from you that you don’t really get to know them. A little kindness goes a long way.”

Katie nodded along, munching on her burger. “No girl wants an egocentric boyfriend,” she added, mouth still half full. Lance glared at her in both disgust and indignancy.

“I don’t want to hear this from you, Mister I’m-not-here-to-make-friends!”

She shrugged and continued to eat her burger.

“Okay, okay…” Hunk put his hands up placatingly. “How about I get us some dessert and we change the subject?”

Lance glanced at him through the corner of his eyes. “Those guava-flavored popsicles?”

“You know it!” Hunk grinned back at him and the two shared a high-five.

“You’re so easy to please,” Katie commented once Hunk had gotten up. She used her last fry to soak up the mayo leftover on her plate.

Lance glared at her for a moment, before letting the last of his annoyance slip away. He reached into his backpack and took out an apple.

“Here.” He deposited it on her tray.

Katie frowned at him. “What is this?”

“You always eat fruit after we get something greasy, right?” he asked it casually, distracted by trying to squeeze ketchup onto his remaining fries. The condiment bottles in the cafeteria were continuously blocked.

“Yeah.” She blinked up at him, caught by surprise. Her voice had gone soft and she had to clear her throat to dispel the emotion that knotted there. “I didn’t think you would remember.”

Lance looked up from his food to give her an exaggerated eye-roll.

“You’re my friend, Pidge.” He kicked her under the table. “In spite of all your efforts to keep me away.”

She stayed silent for a moment, staring at the apple.

“Thank you,” she said. I’m sorry, she wanted to add, but it would make no sense to him. As far as Lance knew, Pidge was cold and self-involved and clinical to a fault.

“Don’t mention it!” He threw a fry up and tried to catch it with his mouth, but it merely bounced off his nose, marking it with ketchup. “Dang! One more!”

Katie let out a breath of laughter. Then, sitting up to better her odds, she waved at Lance. “Try me.”

By the time Hunk returned, Katie was biting into her apple as Lance complained about the ketchup stains he’d gotten on his uniform jacket.

--

She didn’t know what had driven her away from the dorms that day. There was a restless energy within her that demanded space and, though she’d never been the biggest fan of nature, it had sent her directly into the Arizona desert.

Katie felt like Pidge, today. Not like Pidge Gunderson, but like the little girl who’d yelled a misheard swearword at locked doors, until her brother had come to her rescue. She felt young and impulsive and alive, despite the grief that still weighted on her shoulders.

More than anything, she missed her mom.

In Katie’s eyes, Coleen Holt knew everything there was to know about agriculture and plant life. She was a different kind of genius from her father and brother, possessing a peacefulness about her that none of the other Holts could ever hope for. It had been a comfort through the years of Katie’s adolescence.

Sitting underneath one of the few trees distributed across the Garrison grounds reminded Katie of her grandmother’s place in Italy, where the fruit trees spread as far as the horizon. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the sweet smells that rose from the vegetation.

“I wonder if they have lemon trees here,” she murmured to herself.

“I don’t think they do, Pidge.”

Katie lurched back in shock. She felt her shoulder scrape against the tree trunk and had to stretch out an arm to keep from falling. Lance sent her a carefree grin, bent down at the waist to look her in the eye, as he usually did. It irritated Katie to no end, not only for how condescending it was, but because it always put him too far into her personal bubble.

“What are you even doing here, Lance?” she asked once her heartrate had gone down.

“I saw you through a window and thought we could eat together, since Hunk is sick.” He looked pointedly at the half-eaten sandwich she’d tossed in her surprise. “I see you started without me.”

“Well, now I’ll have to buy something else for lunch, so thanks for that,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t be like that, Pidgeon.” Lance poked her on the ribs. “I even brought you something as a bribe.” And then he extended an apple towards her.

Katie took it, trying to cover up her amusement with exasperation. “Do you think I’m obsessed with apples or something?”

“Next time I’ll bring you a lemon,” he teased.

Maybe it was because she felt more herself than she had in weeks, but Katie snickered at him. While his sanguinity could be exhausting, this time it was a welcome relief from the stagnation she’d fallen under.

Lance pulled out a sandwich from his pack, one of those 30 centimeters subs in Italian bread and multiple fixings, and Katie felt her mouth water at the sight. He must have noticed, because Lance chuckled and broke out one end for her.

“I think this is a palo verde,” he remarked after swallowing his first bite. At a confused look from Katie, he clarified, “the tree. You were talking about it before, right?”

“You speak Spanish?”

“Yeah…” He sounded like he was laughing at her. “I’m Cuban.”

Katie suddenly felt very stupid. He and Hunk had probably mentioned this already, but she didn’t pay them that much attention. It was a little embarrassing, especially when Lance seemed to be memorizing every small piece of information she offered him.

“Oh.” She searched for the right thing to say. “I didn’t know. Your last name sounds American.”

The whole situation left in her a sense of déjà vu. She couldn’t quite remember why, but the words pulled at her memory.

Thankfully, Lance took it in stride. “Our family has been to the US, then back to Cuba, then back to the US for generations. My whole name is actually Lance Serrano Mcclain.”

She nodded. Normally Katie would let the conversation drop and focus on finishing her meal, but she had already decided to take a bit of a break that day, in order to be more attentive at night. It couldn’t hurt to find out more about her teammate.

“So… Palo verde?”

“It means green stick, which seems kind of unfair, because this tree is actually pretty big, especially for the climate around here.” Lance fanned himself. “I hate how dry it gets.”

She almost agreed with him, but, as far as Lance and Hunk were concerned, Pidge Gunderson had no reason to have been outside of Arizona. Instead, she pretended to ponder his comment.

“The desert can be pretty unpredictable. The lack of humidity during the day is bad, but I wouldn’t want to be caught out when the temperatures drop.”

Lance faked a shiver. “Don’t even talk about that! I have too much tropical blood to handle the cold well. Hunk’s Samoan, by the way,” and there was unnecessary emphasis to his words here, “so he’s the same.”

“I didn’t realize both of you weren’t from around here.” Katie could imagine how much they missed their families. Choosing to voluntarily leave so that they could study at the Garrison must have been difficult.

“That’s nice to hear.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just…” He scrunched up his nose, as if he wanted to take back the words as he said them. “You were so cold to us when we first met, we weren’t sure what it was about.”

It was her turn to grimace. Katie hadn’t wanted to seem like so much of a jerk. She could be snappish and patronizing, even with those she loved, but her haughtiness towards her teammates had been a façade created to keep them out. Not that it did any good.

“Ugh, you’re already closed off, again.” Lance threw his head back in frustration. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s just personal, Lance.” Katie played with the apple in her hands. “I swear it’s not about you two.”

Without looking directly at him, she couldn’t tell what expression Lance was making. He stared at her, letting the silence extend.

Then he popped the last of the sub into his mouth, spreading back onto the grass.

“We will pester it out of you.” She turned to see him grinning. The confidence there was a quiet thing, so much different than Lance’s usual hyperboles and that much more effective. She felt dazed by it. “Eventually.”

Katie had never understood what the girls in her school meant when they talked about crushes. They always seemed frivolous, going on about someone’s hair or how handsome they were or how strong. Meanwhile, Katie had simply hoped for a friend, for a respite to the unending mocking.

Still, Lance suddenly looked very interesting under this light. His chin was too pointed to be considered attractive, but his blue eyes caught the sunshine like polished stone. He could be funny and thoughtful and inventive, attributes Katie hadn’t expected to value.

She moved her gaze to where another group of students was sitting, uncertain if the heat running up her neck would translate into a damning blush. She bit into the apple to keep from incriminating herself further.

[dorminchu]

Insult to Injury: The Director’s Cut — Chapter 01 [PREVIEW]

Note: Please view on the main blog page for an optimal reading experience. :D Chapter One is about 95% revised to my liking. Here is a somewhat lengthier preview whilst work begins on 02 & 03.

June crawled by. Currently the MSF were in the process of dealing with a new influx of internally displaced persons (IDPs) from the surrounding prefectures and villages, all of whom had to be tested and separated from those not stricken with disease—as this did not necessarily mean they weren’t carrying others. Thanks to the cooperation with the local civilians and tireless efforts on part of the medical staff, there had been a forty-five-percent decrease in fatalities compared to the start of the year.

The atmosphere within the hospital was not improving. The topic of insurgence was the new favourite with patients. Allegedly there had been several attacks on neighbouring villages; a sign of impatience at the lack of tangible progress coupled with deep-seated mistrust of government officials. Now the Force Sécurité/Protection, or FSP, had been brought on in collaboration with an additional Protective Services Detail (PSD) by the name of Kerberos, to ensure the hospital and surrounding property remained untouched.

Their project coordinator called them all in for the sake of reviewing protocol in the event of an attack, starting to seem like more of a possibility. Criticism of the government’s method in handling the situation was discouraged during their meetings with the project coordinator. Madeleine was savvy enough to keep herself abreast of any controversy. For the rest of the Psychosocial Unit, she presumed they were either too naïve or willing to look the other way.

The only exception to this was the Vaccines Medical Advisor, Francis Karner; a stoic older man with thinning hair and glasses. He and Madeleine had cooperated a handful of times at the behest of the Medical Coordinator. Madeleine had found nothing wrong with his conduct. A diligent worker, he acknowledged her judgement fairly but did not overextend his gratitude. Outside of his work he was straight-laced and private. Whenever they had a break, he would often disappear frequently on calls. He’d been coming back tenser as of late and apologised to Madeleine.

“I was supposed to be sent home last month, but with the situation being what it is, I decided to stay on until things are resolved.” He did not sit down. “It’s madness. We’ve already waited until things are too severe to think of bringing in a proper security detail—who the hell does the project coordinator think we’re fooling?” Madeleine ignored him. “Dr Swann. The Medical Coordinator tells me you’ve been involved in volunteer work for a while.”

“Five years, as of March.”

“Perhaps they would be more willing to listen to someone with your expertise.”

“Well, it’s fortunate that I was not selected for my personal opinion.”

Karner chuckled. “You’ll go far.”

Madeleine had no interest in pursuing this topic any further. “Who were you speaking to?” Francis didn’t answer immediately. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have been so blunt. But you leave often enough and it appears to be taking a toll on you.”

“Just my wife. This past month has been no easier on her. But I find that it can help somewhat, just talking to someone outside of this element.” Madeleine nodded. Francis paused. “I’ve never seen you contact anyone outside of your unit.” Madeleine did not anticipate the conversation to take such a turn, nor did she particularly wish to divulge much about herself. But she could not deflect as she could in the clinic back home, and Francis seemed forthright enough to warrant a harmless response.

“I’m living with a friend. We graduated from college together.”

“And you keep in touch while you are abroad?”

“He tends to lead his own life while I am away.”

“That’s a great deal to ask of someone.” Madeleine inclined her head in his direction. This was not a man that emoted often; now the thin mouth was set, and the eyes behind the glasses disillusioned. “Few women your age would devote themselves to a thankless vocation. Not everyone is going to want to stick around until you decide you want to settle down.”

Madeleine’s smile did not touch her eyes. She hadn’t even mentioned the nature of her relationship to Arnaud. “We have an understanding, that’s all. Besides, I don’t bother him about his social life.”

Karner shook his head. In a few minutes the break subsided and they were back to work as usual. By the end of the day, Madeleine resolved to let him dig his own grave without further interference.

The next few days blurred together in her recollection. Karner made no attempt to converse with her. Madeleine found her mind snagging easily on technicalities. She became less tolerant of the Psychological Unit’s personal hang-ups with the lack of resources and lack of any obvious moral closure. Smell of rot and disinfectant permeated into her clothing and hair until she had begun to associate the smell itself with a total lack of progress.

She left the window to her hotel room cracked most nights, afraid to open it completely. Alone with her own mind and the recorder. The conversations now circled back readily to death and terrorism. An overwhelming fear of retaliation from insurrection.

It was just past one in the morning. In six hours she would return to Donka Hospital and repeat the process. A month and a half from now she would be on a flight back to Paris. Her mind refused to settle in either direction.

Outside her window she heard the distant voice of Francis Karner. He was conversing in German, from a few storeys down, but as Madeleine came over to the window she understood him clearly:

“…I’ve been saying it for weeks, and they dismiss me every time. These wounds are the result of prolonged exposure from chemicals. We’ve seen evidence of IDPs coming through, exhibiting the same symptoms as the PMCs we treated back in February. How we can expect to make any progress if the project coordinator refuses to bring this up? We’re putting God-knows how many lives at risk waiting for a vaccine that we don’t know if we need—and even so, it won’t be ready for another week. There’s not enough time to justify keeping silent….”

Madeleine closed the window carefully. She’d never been one to intrude on family matters.

⁂

When Madeleine exited her room the next morning, she found the project coordinator waiting for her in the hallway, along with the head of security from Kerberos and a couple Donka Hospital staff Madeleine knew by sight but not intimately.

The vaccines had arrived earlier than anticipated. Several members of the Medical Unit had stayed on-site in order to determine if all had been accounted for and subsequently realised it was rigged. Thanks to the intervention of the FSP the losses were minimal. Several doctors, including Herrmann, had suffered chemical exposure and were currently isolated from the rest of the IDPs to receive immediate medical attention. A few others, including Dr Karner, had been less fortunate.

Now there was additional pressure from the doctors and Logistics Team to begin moving the high-risk patients to a safer area. The fear that this story would circulate and any chance of obtaining vaccines would be discouraged could not be ruled out. So they would not be reporting this as a chemical attack to the government, but as an interception of an attack by local terrorists.

 “Dr Swann.” The head of security, Lucifer Safin, gave Madeleine pause. His accent and complexion would presume a Czech or Russian background but he could have come from a variety of surrounding countries. The MSF on staff commonly referred to him by surname; perhaps Lucifer was simply an alias. What set him apart was his face. Gruesomely scarred from his right temple to the base of his left jaw, though the structure of his eyes and nose remained intact. In spite of the weather, she had never seen him without gloves. “I understand that you were one of the last to speak with Dr Karner?”

His manner wasn’t explicitly taciturn, more akin to the disconcerting silence one might experience while looking into a body of still-water—met only with your reflection.

“Yes,” said Madeleine, “but that was nearly five days ago.”

“You were instructed to monitor him during that period by the Medical Coordinator?”

 “That’s correct.”

Safin glanced at the project coordinator. “I’ll speak with her alone.”

“Of course.”

Safin nodded. They walked down the length of the hall back to her room. His gait was purposeful and direct. He had a rifle strapped to him. Madeleine tried to avoid concentrating on it. Her attention went to the window. She had not locked it.

“Dr Swann.” The early morning light put his disfigurement into a new, unsettling clarity. Too intricate to be leprosy or a typical burn wound, it was more as if his very face were made of porcelain and had suffered a nasty blow, then glued together again. “What was the extent of your relationship to Dr Karner?”

“I did not work with him often. We talked once or twice but that was all. I have my own responsibilities with the Psychosocial Unit. From what I could tell, he never made an effort to befriend anyone.”

“You were asked to monitor Dr Karner. Why?”

“I was requested to do so on behalf of the Medical Coordinator. There were concerns that Dr Karner was somehow unqualified to continue his work. In observing him, I had no reason to suspect he was unfit for the position psychologically.” Safin said nothing. “The only issue I could see worth disqualifying him for, was that Karner and the project coordinator had very differing views on protocol.”

“He spoke to you about his views?”

“He expressed to me once, in confidence, that he did not understand the project coordinator’s hesitance to bring in a security detail.” Safin’s attention on her was razor-sharp, unwavering. She’d said too much. “He also told me he’d elected to continue volunteering here past his contract duration, just to ensure the operation was successful. That was my only conversation with him outside of a work-related context. You would be better off asking the other doctors about this.”

“We have video surveillance in place on the Grand Hotel de L’independence. At around one in the morning, Dr Karner exited the building and contacted an unknown party by mobile phone. Then, a minute later, you were at your window.”

“Oh, yes. I have been forgetting to close it. With so many longer days, it can be difficult to remember these things.”

“Your room was the only one to show signs of activity at that hour.”

“I was reviewing my notes from that day’s session. I heard a voice from outside, though not clearly. It was distracting me from my work, so I closed the window.”

“Do you commonly review your notes in the early hours of the morning with an unlocked window?”

“I just wanted some quiet. And I leave the windows open because otherwise I seem to find myself trapped with the smell of rotting flesh as well as humidity.”

Safin’s expression became easier to read, but not in a positive sense. This was not a man you wanted to be on opposing sides with. Madeleine kept the apprehension away from her face and her voice tightly controlled.

“Look. Without information about Dr Karner’s lifestyle outside MSF, I cannot give you an answer in good faith. I was assigned to survey him. He showed no signs of dereliction in his work, and to my knowledge kept his personal views separate from his duties. Whatever he said to me during outside hours was assumed to be in confidence. Many people say things to one another in what they believe to be confidence that they would not admit to otherwise. If I had reason to suspect he was unfit to work, I would have contacted the Medical Advisor privately.”

Safin held her gaze. She did not dare avert her face. Then he said: “The project coordinator is waiting for you downstairs. Thank you for your time.”

The rest of the day she spent in a different wing of the hospital. The Psychosocial Team was cut down from four members to three. Another inconsequential day of thankless work that never seemed quite good enough. That night Madeleine laid back on her bed and watched the shadows on the ceiling stretch over peeling paint, slowly overtaken by daybreak.

When she’d first arrived at the airport she could stave off her doubts with shallow, private reassurances. As long as you are here, you are just Dr Swann the psychologist consultant. Your father is many miles away and he won’t contact you. No one else of importance will come for you in a place like this.

With a guy like Safin around, she was safer than she would have been with the FSPs alone.

Safer, but no longer invisible.

[thenixkat]

Voltron notes 1 (edited?)

Ep 1

No spoiler opening theme

Those are some skinny ass space suits. Shouldn’t they have like tethers and shit to keep them from accidently floating off?

Harvesting ice cores on Pluto or Kerberos or whatever

They wanna meet aliens

No one notices the ship until its right on top of them. Shiro just assumes its a hostile ship

Bullshit and lazy. Fuckin aliens speaking and understanding English

Also Shiro looks so much better with the darker skin. Like, bring back this look.

This ship is very green and that’s unusual compared to later lighting schemes 

Lance is a dick to his friend

Also, you’d think an air and space program would weed out the folks with motion sickness

Lance is overestimating the abilities of himself, the crew, and the ship

Welp, Hunk fucked up the electronics with the barf. Pidge fell from not using her seatbelt. 

Mutanious comments.  

Lance got the team killed

Iverson called them jackasses

I know I shouldn’t be mentioning stuff that hasent happened yet but like? How the fuck does Iverson not recognise Pidge? She looks just like her brother but tiny and that didn’t raise any alarms? She didn’t even dye her hair or anything? Also is her mom ok with this? Is she skipping out on her classes that she should be having as Katie?

Vomit is not an approved lubricant. Heh 

One of those chicks has green hair

Military exploration school

Pidge doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut

Lance is a fuckin bro

Why is Iverson chewin out Lance for something Pidge said?

Poor Lance

Lights out by five? And it's already getting dark?

Ok but Lance and Hunk in civilian clothes makes them stand out so much while they’re trying to sneak around. WHy not carry backpacks with their regular clothes in them while they wear the uniforms until they find a safe place to change. 

Lance is that friend who gets everyone into trouble

Have I mentioned that I hate fat jokes?

Also these kids are shit at sneaking. They didn’t even wait a minute to make sure the patrol dude couldn’t just turn his head and see them. They also made a shit ton of noise.

Pidge is bad at sneaking too, didn’t make sure she wasn’t followed and didn’t keep an eye out for anyone who might spot her on the roof.

Hunk is scared of heights

Pidge is bad at lying

Hunk is nosey af

Lance is trying to be a good team leader

Pidge is trying to uncover a government conspiracy and picked up alien radio chatter. 

If a teenager with little funds and homemade equipment can pick up alien radio chatter than the people who listen to the stars for a living sure as shit picked this shit up.

Lance doesn’t believe in aliens.

Hunk is scared of aliens

School is on lock down

Holy crow. Lance is a potty mouth

Hunk didn’t believe in aliens either

Pidge and Lance jump at the chance to go check out a crashed alien ship. Hunk doesn’t like this.

How the fuck did Pidge remotely hack a camera feed?

Ok but like it makes total sense for them to quarantine Shiro. He might have space pox.

Also Shiro’s skintone changes between 2 dif frames

Hunk neither knows nor cares who Shiro is. And is trying to be the voice of reason

I’m taking that as a fat joke. So fuck you show.

Where’d Keith get the hover car?

Where does Keith get all the explosives? Does he make them?

Lance spotted his eternal rival and doesn’t want to be beat in rescuing the hero. Hunk knows who Keith is

Pidge doesn’t know who Keith is

Why’d they choose that ugly ass tone for Shiro there? He looks kinda grey

Lance was not important enough for Keith to remember him

They’re making Keith take them along for the ride. Also that is not a vehicle designed to carry so many people.

Keith’s got snark.

Pidge yer not doing anything else the least you can do is be useful and keep Shiro from falling off the bike.

Hunk can identify every teacher chasing them

Keith is having fun driving while everyone else screams in terror

So Shiro’s just wearing Keith’s dad’s clothes

Convenient amnesia

Also Shiro’s got a generic ass masculine face

Keith can sense energy

So, those markings and paintings had to have been made by some Native Americans. Which group? What’s the timeframe? Those paintings are showing Blue do stuff so how long was her pilot still around and kicking for? Did she have other pilots before going into lockdown and just chose to stay on Earth? How’d she get to Earth in the first place if fish dude probably died in battle with Galra forces?

Lance hesitates b4 shaking the mystery alien cyborg hand

Hunk is nervous that there might be an alien invasion soon.

Hunk is nosey as hell and a bit of a dick

If I point out everything that is or probably is a fat joke I’ll be here forever

Hunk is smart as hell

Matching a wavelength of an element to a terrain carved by erosion? What? That’s not how anything works

Wait, if Keith has pics of the murals why didn’t they start looking there?

Yeah no those kids are hurt, possibly dead from that fall

The Voltron

The eyes have no pupils and the head isn’t moving, how can you tell the eyes are following you?

So did all of the lions pick these kids and college student from seeing them through Blue’s perspective? How does the lion choosing thing work?

Hunk states the obvious

How is Lance supposed to read the screen when the text is constantly changing. That’s not how computer.

Lance takes Blue on a joy ride and even Keith is not having fun

Also Blue is just fucking up the poor desert

Hunk is a little bitch who thinks giving people what they want will stop them

Holy crow. Hunk has a potty mouth.

So there’s just like a Galra ship right at Earth. The Galra know where Earth is and probably invade it. We just gonna forget about that? Like yes that ship is chasing the lion but nothing is stopping more galra going to Earth.

Shiro is the senior officer so Lance defers to him

So the lions can open wormholes on their own.

Hunk vomits inside Blue

Lance why?

How did none of them notice the castle. Like that is a massive ass castle

They just didn’t check to see if the air was human breathable

Pidge, why the fuck would the steps be bigger if the control seat of the lion was human sized?

Alien tech speaks english

Why do they reuse Cree’s voice for so much

Why do aliens from 10000 yrs ago fucking speak english

Also fucking elves

Also fucking Europeans

Rude. Allura’s first response to meeting an alien is insulting his species looks

Quiznak. Coran has a potty mouth

Also how the fuck do you know anything about this alien’s biology? Why the fuck would a sleeper hold fucking work?

SO why didn’t Alfor use the ‘strongest weapon in the universe’ to fight Zarkon? What, did Black not want any other paladin than Zarkon?

Alfor lies to children.

So how did they send away the other 4 lions? Alfor probably got caught and killed but like from that flashback ep the other three og paladins weren’t in their armor nor shown near the lions or anything. Did the lions hide themselves? Did they have other paladins that piloted them away?

King of the Galra? Bitch he was an emperor well before his fall you should know this.

Convenient amnesia.

How long is the average Galra lifespan?

Could Haggar not? Sense the Blue lion on Earth? How?

Also Haggar really went and got herself a whole ass monster husband

Zarkon calls in the squad. Sends Sendak to fuck shit up

Lance is not good with numbers

Sigh

How do yall even know the food in the castle is safe for humans?

Coran how the fuck u know yall the last Alteans left? Did ya fuckin look?

How the fuck did some nasty ass mice get into the fucking cryopod? How did they survive in a cryopod calibrated for an altean? Why are the mice necessary to the story?

How do the alteans recognize a galra battleship after 10000 yrs?

Lance starts a fight with Keith for no reason. Shiro breaks up the fight.

Did I mention that I hate body functions humor? 

Why and how did Alfor connect the lions to Allura’s life force?

Coran just straight up called Pidge a slightly less stupid than average primitive. Racist as fuck.

Lion’s choose their paladin so Allura just fucking assigns lions to aliens she’s known for less than an hour.

How does she know anything about these aliens? Its been less than 5 mins since she met them.

How the fuck does Allura know here all the lions are but the red one?

How do we know Voltron is the most powerful in the universe? They ain’t seen the entire universe

How do the Alteans know how long an earth hour is?

So an altean brought Green to this planet?

What the fuck kinda dumb ass rabbits come out of hiding when they know strange creatures are near?

To be fair, peaceful might mean something else in Altean. They are fucking space Brits

Hunk asks good questions when he’s not stating the obvious

Also that is a barren ass planet. But it was formerly inhabited.

Hunk rewires alien machinery while under heavy fire

Why does it take so long for yellow’s murals to start glowing? Was Yellow thinking about whether or not she wanted Hunk as her Paladin? Yellow really said if you want me you gotta put in effort.

The Galra were this close to getting Yellow too.

Pidge asks questions.

Who built that pyramid for Green and why did they let it get overgrown?

Pidge somehow didn’t break a leg from that jump

So I’m gonna assume that Blue told Yellow what was up

How well can Yellow move through rock?

Green really wanted Pidge. Like she was lighting shit up immediately.

So Blue actually got pretty damaged from regular ship fire and hiding the ground wrong

Hunk would apparently have let Lance die

Pidge and Shiro are some lyin ass bitches

Lord of the Known Universe. Most of the Galra empire is empty space

It took 600 yrs between a grandfather and grandson altean?

Lance and Hunk vote run

Pidge votes stay and fight

Um. Why would the Galra fuck up Arus when yall are the top priority? Like, sure they can come back for it but the lions are a bigger deal and thus they would chase yall over take Arus

Hunk is making very good points

Also Keith, while Sendak could destroy Arus and then come after yall. It’d be a waste of time and resources. 

Keith votes stay and fight

Shiro chooses not to vote

Alfor’s hologram admits he fucked up with sending the lions away

Allura votes stay and fight and I guess Coran isn’t voting like Shiro

Fuck you show. Why did we need eighteen thousand fuckin fat jokes?

Coran is an asshole

Ok but like that doesn’t look like a good chest plate? Like it looks like if they bent over they’d get poked/stabbed by it? And what’s up with the high sides of the belts?

What the fuck Pidge?! That coulda killed Lance or taken him out for a good while?

Wait, if the ship has a thing that can like just fucking make suits? Why can't they just make more bayards? Why wouldn’t Alfor design something to make more bayards?

Why doesn’t the galra ship have rear view cameras?

Wait! How the fuck do you cut a hole in a space ship and that not fuck with pressurization or set off any safety allarms?! The fuck kinda bullshit is that?

Sendak? Why do you expect aliens to know what that beam was for if you didn’t tell them?

~False surrender is a fucking war crime b/c it removed the option of surrendering for real if the need arrives so it leads to more fucking people dying~

No they didn’t Shiro. Battleships are things that get mass produced. If this is the exact same ship u got put in after the green one then that is bullshit on a cosmic scale.

Shiro is ok with letting prisoners die. Pidge is not, granted it's probably b/c she thinks her family might be on there.

Poor Mrs. Holt. She just got fuckin forgotten by everyone.

So Pidge has an outburst and fucking disobeys the mission leader. Shiro decides to help her just b/c he might know one or two of the people he was willing to let die. And they leave Keith with no fucking backup.

Keith would have legit died if the guards remembered that they have fucking guns and can shoot him when he dropped his shield. Which means Keith would have died if not for plot bullshit b/c his teammates don’t particularly care about his health and safety. Pidge and Shiro care more about the male Holts than Keith and all of the other prisoners that might be on the ship.

Wow.

How does Keith not hold this against them?

No the mice were not necessary, not if either of these dunces whent and opened the control panel from the other side.

That sounds like bullshit. 

Ya know I didn’t have any problems with Hunk the engineer being able to operate an alien elevator or drill by hotwiring shit. But I do call bullshit on Pidge reprogramming a sentry pod thing by changing the connection of one wire.

I still call bullshit on aliens speaking english and all atmospheres being 100% agreeable to humans. B/c that is bullshit

And why the fuck would the color of Rover’s lights fucking change?

… they only checked one fucking room for prisoners but that’s  it I guess? The fuck

Why did the Red lion let the Galra take her? Did she consider that one of the galra on the ship might make a good paladin for her?

Keith gets caught b/c his dumb ass starts shouting on a stealth mission

Keith, they already have the lion. Yer the one trying to take it

Like I said previously the guards forget they have guns and thus Keith lives.

So… how did Keith impress the Red lion? He fought people, lost and blew out the airlock. Which is still a loss if the lion didn’t feel like saving him.

Vore

Guards continue to forget they have fucking guns for plot reasons.

Hunk and the gang leave without destroying the enemy ship or making sure that its irreparably damaged

Coran, Lance, and Hunk have foul mouths

And this is why you fucking confirm yer kill

Why isn’t there a combine button?

Heh, Yellow’s face after slamming Red. Also Red looks so offended about being rammed. 

What the cheese

Hunk’s gone into panic mode and Keith has accepted death.

Shiro gives a speech and they form Voltron

Why are the bad guys giving them the time to form voltron?

Why doesn’t Voltron have a tail? Where does Black’s tail go? Voltron should have a tail.

Any other prisoners on that ship are dead as fuck

How did I watch this show  the first time? It's not good. It’s pretty but it is not good.

[annoyinglyjovialbird]

Voltron: Next Generation

First Encounter: I

Word Count: 2800

“Out of all the stupid, idiotic things you could’ve done, launching us into space and light years away from the Milky Way takes the cake, Kenneth!” 

Kova had directed most of her anger and annoyance into Kenneth, who had been placed into zip-tie handcuffs and sat into a chair in front of the windows. 

“I mean, your grandfather, uncle, and mother were all brilliant and accomplished engineers by the time they were your age. Your mother was flipping fifteen-years-old when she piloted a giant lion-shaped war machine!” Caleb scoffed in the background. Kova turned around to glare at him. “You’re next.” She pointed at him. Caleb’s scoff turned to visible discomfort. 

"The basement was only accessible to higher-ups. What'd you do? Steal your granddad's access key, snuck onto the Coeus on the off-chance there was something still functioning so you could go back to the Holts and say you repaired a forgotten battleship?" Kova was taking deep breaths again, her face losing the red tint of anger, although her light brown eyes were still as fierce. 

"Yeah." Kenny winced, already cringing from Kova's reaction. "All of that, in order." Kova had never been so livid. 

"Kovalia, attack without being provoked and expect your benefits to disappear." Shiro had never sounded so stern. Kova took a breath, stepping back to merge beside the other teens, who were lined up behind her. Allie and Cake were to Kova's left, while Liz and Caleb stood on her right. With a sigh, Shiro stood from his chair, striding over to Kenny. 

"Kenny, you're twenty-six. You make do with what you have. Did you have to steal Commander Holt's key?" 

"Who is he, exactly?" Allie whispered in Kova's ear. Kova had crossed her hands behind her back, a soldier ready for orders when Allie asked her question. 

The teens had taken off their helmets, wearing only their suits. They weren't able to finish their exploration of the ship, only being able to turn on lights, keep a steady oxygen supply, and meet up in the bridge for Kenny's scolding. No one had explained Kenny's existence to Allie, and Kova shouldn't have been as shocked as she was. 

Stepping out of line, Kova walked towards a screen and loaded info onto it. A larger screen appeared behind Kenny, showing the information Kova was loading onto her small screen. 

"Kovalia." Shiro was serious, and Kova winced at his reaction. 

"I have a feeling Allie isn't the only one who doesn't know who Kenny is." Kova tried to explain, holding her hands up in defeat. 

With a sigh, Shiro let Kova take the floor. 

"Kenneth Samuel Kogane is the second-born son of Keith Kogane and Katie Holt." The images on the screen changed as Kova began to speak. With Kenny sitting in front of the screen, two lines split from Kenny and moved up into two separate images. To the left, a man with pale skin, long black hair, and Kenny's blue eyes stared at the camera with a frown. To the right, a woman with shoulder-length brown hair, round brown eyes covered by glasses, and a smile. 

From the woman, another line connected her to an older man. "Samuel Holt, Katie's father, was the engineer assigned to the Kerberos mission about thirty years ago, along with Commander Holt's son, Matthew Holt, and Garrison pilot Takashi Shirogane." The pictures on the screen were from the killed in action reports from the same time. All the teens except for Caleb and Kova were shocked at Shiro's picture. In the picture, Shiro had black hair, and the scar on his nose was gone. Caleb thought his dad looked like a teenager, but that was a talk for another day. Kova was still talking. "After the disbanding and disappearance of Voltron and its lions, the former pilots began to lead a life with a higher ranking. Keith Kogane was the former pilot of the Red Lion and later the pilot of the Black Lion, while Katie, often referred to by 'Pidge', piloted the Green Lion." 

"Uh, question." Liz had her hand up, like a kid in a classroom hoping to get called by the teacher. Kova's nod was cue enough for Liz to continue. "Your parents are former members of Voltron?" 

"My dad is a former member, too." Cake pointed out. 

"Our dad used to pilot the Black Lion before Keith." Caleb pointed out, too. Coincidence? Liz thought not. 

"Kenny's brilliant, but even I can admit a ship is too big of a task." Kova was bent over the chair, staring right at Kenny. "Even I wouldn't be able to fix it alone." Kenny rolled his eyes around the bridge, fully operational. "Hey, don't pin the ship working just on me. Liz and Allie helped while Cake chased you around and Caleb was ready to catch you." Kenny's slumped into his chair, hoping the floor would swallow him whole.

"I didn't think you'd come down here," Kenny muttered. "Go down there, you know what I mean!" 

"Kenneth, that isn't an excuse for stealing Commander Holt's access key." Shiro was staring out the glass. He hadn't seen the stars and darkness surrounding them in years. Behind him, Kova slinked back to her spot between Allie and Caleb. With two stomps to the floor, four of the five teens stood at attention. Allie tried to copy as best as she could but flinched at Shiro's gaze. Kova and Shiro's eyes met. Kova was the first to lower her head, awaiting orders. 

"Can someone uncuff me now?" Kenny whined. Shiro sighed, stepping towards Kenny and his chair. The screen behind him turned off, allowing for more of the galaxy to be visible. 

"Caleb, uncuff Kenny." Shiro began his onslaught of commands. "Liz, keep exploring. Let's get a more accurate floor plan. Cake, get started in the engine room. Take Kenny." Caleb, Allie, and Kova stood on the deck; none of them knew what Shiro had planned. With Liz and Cake gone, Shiro faced the three teens. Well, two teens and a kid. "Allie, you can unpack now. Kova and Caleb will help." Their eyes wandered to the giant backpack, sitting in the chair of the nearest screen. 

Unpacking the bag took longer than expected. 

Okay, that's a lie. It took just as long as expected. 

They had it sorted into four piles: Clothes, first aid, spare parts, and snacks. Each kid had three full changes of clothes and underwear, vacuum-packed at the bottom of the bag. The first aid pile varied between the pocket-sized kits to a larger red duffel bag full of bandages and gauze. The spare parts pile had a screwdriver set with interchangeable heads, the zip ties, the hammer, the pliers, and spools of different kinds of wires. Let's not mention the screws and tape. The snacks were packed by Cake with input from Liz. Ranging from bags of pretzels to packets of fizzy pop rocks candy, there was more than enough for everyone. Shiro was the only one who didn't have an extra change of clothes, but as he shrugged off his gray coat, revealing a black tank top showing off his huge biceps. Shrugging his shoulders, he said he had done it before. The teens stared at him like he had grown another head. 

"What if I build a satellite?" Kova asked, staring at Caleb. 

"Again?" Kova nodded her head, making Caleb roll his eyes. "You could, I don't know, find another way of intergalactic communication, like a phone on board." Kova sat on her haunches, crossing her arms over her chest with lips pouted. 

"You're no fun." Dropping her arms, Kova stood on her feet. "And anyway, this ship wasn't built for intergalactic communication. Way before its time." 

"You're just making excuses so you could make a satellite." Caleb followed Kova, standing up. Extending a hand to Allie, the teens continued to their conversation. Lifting Allie to her feet, they almost threw the young girl to the other side of the deck, who had managed to stay on her feet. 

"Hey, I figured out color coordination!" Griffin's voice came on over the intercoms, the orange screens coming to life. 

All the screens changed, one by one, to a specific color. The two on the bottom changed from orange to blue and yellow; the screens above them turned to red and green; the one at the helm turned white. An orange screen appeared on the window behind the teens, this one not changing color. Instead, an excited Liz was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Y'know, cause we're wearing the Voltron suits?" Kova nodded, showing her understanding. 

“Very cool, very cool," Kova said, hoping Liz could hear the 'but' in her voice. Liz was crestfallen. 

"But?"

"But if you wanna be true to Voltron, let's start with Altean blue for all screens." Kova smiled as Liz's smile returned to her face.  

"I can do that." Liz signed off the screen, the screens reverting to their original orange color. 

"Quit telling my team what to do." Caleb was glaring at the side of Kova's head. She stared forward. Whether she wanted to face Caleb or not, it was up to her, but Caleb continued his silent glare. 

"I'm just as good as you. Don't think you're so high and mighty because you're a top student. I am too. What are you staring at?" Caleb turned his head to stare out the window like Kova was doing. 

"I wonder how they felt coming back," Kova said in the quietest voice. At last, the screens turned bright blue and the lights were brightened. "They were up here for so long. Do you think it felt like coming back home?" 

"Stop talking." Caleb turned around to stare at Allie, who was sorting through the piles one more time. With Liz's map, Allie was packing her backpack again, this time with only the first aid and snack piles. Liz would help her out if she became too confused about anything, while Cake was too busy checking and rechecking the systems diagnostics with Kenny. "You can build your satellite if you stop talking about them." With a nod, Kova walked over to the staircase. 

She stood at the helm and ready, looking over the deck and other screens below her. It felt almost wrong to her. She had been taught for years that a leader was someone who had equal footing with everyone on her team, not someone who stood above them all.

"We found the rooms, and guess what?" Cake's head appeared on the camera footage, eyeing the camera. The bright blue screen did not do Cake's sclera any justice, but no one was gonna tell him that. "We don't have to share with anyone!" In a sprint, every teen on board raced towards the rooms, hoping to get the best room. Shiro, on the other hand, stayed in the bridge, watching the teens choose their rooms from the cameras. 

The rooms were split into halves of a hallway between the med bay and the cafeteria/kitchen. The hallway was open-ended, likely for a quick escape should anything happen. Three doors were to the right, and three on the left. The excited shouts of the teens overlapped each other, while Kenny's yelps floated above them. 

In the end, it was settled who got which rooms. The girls would take the side of the hall closest to the med bay, while the boys took the side closest to the kitchen. Kova and Caleb were roomed the closest to the emergency exit, while Cake and Liz were roomed closest to the entrances of the cafeteria and main hall to the bridge and engine room. Kenny and Allie would be roomed in between to prevent any accidents since they were the least trained.  

At least, that's what they were told. 

Shiro would be sleeping in the captain's quarters since the first floor rooms were taken. The ship, as they would discover, had more sleeping quarters and floors, but they were too far from the bridge and transport bay. 

"Wait, did anyone check the bay?" Liz asked out loud, her voice silencing everyone else. Kova and Caleb immediately looked at each other and agreed. They were well-trained and wanted everyone else to settle down. 

"Dad, you watching?" Kova asked the camera nearest to the entrance of the bay. "I hope you are 'cause I don't wanna die today." Caleb stared at her, opening the bay. "Remind me to reconfigure those." The hatch door opened, revealing a barely lit warehouse of a room. 

"Turn on your floodlight," Caleb said, staring at the metal beams fifty feet above his head. They put on their helmets, turned on the lights on their suits, and walked inside. "I thought you said the Coeus was changed to an infirmary."

"It was supposed to. They probably couldn't repair it and moved on to the Atlas." The floor was covered by small piles of random nuts, wires, and bolts. Towards the end of the bay, two fighter jets sat in complete abandon. 

"No way." The fighter jets, decorated in white, orange, and black, were earlier models of the MFE fighter jets. "These are, like, priceless." 

"One of them is worthless." Kova was staring at one of them. It looked sad compared to the one beside it. "They must've tried taking everything out. I wonder why these two got left behind." 

"Failed inspection," Shiro said over the teens' earpieces. "The one Kova's at had a broken thruster and collapsed wing. It was useless before it even took flight." Indeed, Shiro was right. The right-wing of the jet was lying on the ground. "The other was having power connectivity issues. It was a war. They had no choice but to abandon them." 

"You don't need to explain, Dad. I got it." Kova's voice was tight, but her brain was moving fast. "Ask Cake to take us to his home planet. Then we'll know where we are." 

"How do you know?" Caleb asked. Kova tore her eyes away from the fighter jets and followed Caleb out the door. 

"I can use a Balmeran crystal to power the satellite, and another one to power the ship." 

"Didn't answer my question." 

"Cake's mom is a Balmeran who worked with his dad to make their culinary empire. She'd be able to help us get home." Kova was finally getting fed up with Caleb's attitude. 

First Kova has to train a new cadet on her team. Her boyfriend got sick and couldn't go on this mission. Her brother is being annoying and getting on her last nerve. Kenny is on board the stupid ship. At least she's trying to keep her wits about her. 

"No need to get so mad, Kova." Oh, it was on. 

"Fight and you're both grounded." Shiro's attempt at a threat didn't work.

"There's no ground for light years, Dad." Kova pointed out, and Shiro was frozen in place. The teens never fought each other unless they needed to let off steam. 

Oh, they were gonna hurt each other badly. 

Switching off the cameras to the bay, Shiro watched Cake familiarize himself with the kitchen, while Liz and Allie were on Kenny-sitting duty. They had changed out of their suits, opting for something more breathable. Cake wore a familiar orange headband and green vest he hadn't noticed before. He wore a long-sleeved yellow shirt underneath the vest with matching green pants. Allie wore a blue billowy blouse with white pants. Her strawberry blonde hair was being braided by Liz, who had changed into a black shirt and pants with a green overcoat. Kenny still wore his clothes from earlier, a long-sleeved orange shirt with his uniform slacks. 

A screen on the bridge appeared, showing coordinates to Cake's home planet. It would take a few days, considering the outdated equipment on board. Maybe Kova, Kenny, and Liz could put their heads together to figure something out. 

It had been a few hours since they were accidentally launched into space. Kova and Caleb weren't to leave their rooms, which was fine with them. Cake had managed to make something somewhat edible for lunch, which was easier than thought to be. Allie now had twin ponytails down her scalp, ending about halfway down her back, and Kenny was still muttering about being on a ship with teenagers. Liz was trying not to slap him. 

"Does anyone else hear that?" Allie asked, taking a second bite of who knows what. 

"Hear what?" Cake asked, wishing they had more than the snacks they had. 

"It sounds like," Allie was trying to figure out the word when Shiro walked in. "Like a lion's roar."

[thelionshoarde]

Voltron legendary defender, Shance, "Hey Beautiful. Oh $hit, wrong beautiful!" (You don't have to censor the swear if you're comfortable using it)

THIS IS SO LATE, but your prompt inspired an au where the galra never pick up the kerberos team and now shiro has to deal with being back home, not being as over adam as he thought he was, sick again for the first time in a while, and with the WHOLE WORLD now aware of his disease because sanda is a dick! And also most definitely some adorable shance. (or at least, i consider it adorable. there will be duck videos!!!) a thousand pardons for the tardiness, i kept waiting until i finished the whole fic but i’m hella slow and i just keep ADDING THINGS instead

anyway, this is JUST the scene with your prompt in it lol

psa: i focused mostly on ms rather than polio when researching for shiro’s disease, but 1) i need to do a lot more research and 2) i have no personal authority or experience over this topic (tho i do have some experience with chronic illness), so while i am trying to be respectful and realistic about what shiro in this circumstance might be dealing with, please remember that i know nothing about anything, thank you

“Hey, Captain!” called a grinning engineer, coveralls down about her waist. “Good to see you up and about!”

Ah.

Shiro let his shades fall down, slapping against the sides of his nose with gentle pressure. He angled a grin and a wave, and said, “Hey yourself,” and was content to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket and amble on over toward a big beauty all by herself on the far side.

He had been hoping not to be recognized.

More than that, he had been hoping not to be recognized in direct correlation to his disease. It wasn’t as though it weren’t a part of him, obviously -- he had to deal with it, he had to adjust the world around him to factor it in. It was there, always. But there had been a reason he’d kept it so under wraps. Shiro preferred when it was only ever acknowledged as an afterthought -- he wanted people to see him, not some version of him distorted by sickness.

At least the ‘ships were still beautiful and the summer breeze nice. He made it through the rest of the ‘yard without incident, taking a slow, curving path toward what looked to be a Corona Class vessel. Bulky, heavily shielded, made to withstand longer bouts of radiation than most of the fighters. Her cargo bay was a massive belly on the back half of her fuselage; she had to be hell on turns. And she was just as beautiful close up as she’d been at a distance. Even with his sunglasses on half of the ‘ship was a glare of sun on metal too bright to see through. It didn’t bother him; he knew a good freighter when he saw one.

Shiro came to an unsteady, grateful stop in the shadow of her nose, trying to ignore the way the world had slowly started spinning lopsided on its axis on the way over. He really should have brought his cane, but also: fuck his cane.

“Hello gorgeous,” he called up to the cockpit, nearly as bulbous as her cargo bay.

To his surprise, a voice called back: “You flatterer!”

Startled, Shiro took a step backward and nearly lost his footing, muscles not quite responding how they ought. Damn. He hadn’t realized there was anyone here. The ‘ship had been quiet the whole way over, and -- oh.

That was a torso and head rearing up from the cockpit, the top of which was apparently popped.

Shiro hadn’t been able to tell with the sun shining through the quartz glass at this angle. Ohhh shit, Shiro thought, embarrassed, as the person leaned down over the side of it and laughingly said, “I could say the same to you, Captain! I did not expect to see you here.”

“I didn’t mean you,” Shiro muttered, but he had a feeling his voice had carried with the wind because the shadowy blob nearly twenty feet overhead snickered a little. So Shiro said, louder, “I was talking to the ‘ship. I can’t even see you.”

“Just a minute and I can fix that!” the voice said, cheerily enough.

Shiro squinted through his shades, still embarrassed, and watched as the figure disappeared back into the ‘ship. The cockpits on freighter class vessels were only released for maintenance or in the case of critical emergencies out in the black. That high up in the air it wasn’t feasible to get in and out of in anything less than zero-G. A moment later and the cargo door dropped open with a creaking groan beneath the ‘ship’s high-mounted tail.

Shiro considered turning around and wandering off the way he’d come. But --

He had left the apartment because he couldn’t stand to be there, trapped. He had never felt trapped inside a spacecraft, though, even one that was grounded. And what was one person versus a whole Garrison full of them, which he’d have to traverse again if he wanted to leave. He’d been stopped only once on the way out here, yes, but there was no telling how many might stop him a second time.

And besides. He was pretty certain he wasn’t going to be able to make the walk without issue, if the numbness spreading through his shoulder, now, was any indication.

Fuck, this was awful. What was the best option here? Suddenly he felt tired all over again, weary and worn down, hating how something once so simple had become so complex. He’d just wanted to see the damn spaceships. Fuck this relapse, and fuck himself for not putting on the damned pump when his doctor had told him to.

“Hey, Captain!” the voice called once more, peering out at him, crouched absurdly halfway down the lowered ramp. “Do you want to check my girl out or not?”

The grin smudging against the corners of his mouth in response to that casual, boasting question was all the reason Shiro needed to feel better about staying right here, at least. Hands in his pockets, Shiro carefully ambled on over to the back half of the ‘ship, working hard to keep it natural looking. “Corona Class, right? I recognize the body type, but I didn’t realize there were any still in active use. There were only, hm… three? Before I left for Kerberos.”

“Yup. Helen’s the last one standing. And she’s been refitted, too, so she’s super sexy. I bet you’ve never seen anything like her.”

Snorting, Shiro finally came around aft and put a cautious foot up on the heavy metal of the cargo door, converted into a ramp here where it had thumped into the ground. “I bet I haven’t,” Shiro agreed peaceably enough. He always enjoyed it when pilots were a little in love with their ‘ships. Somehow it made him trust them more.

“Come on, come on, get up here! I never thought I’d get to show off for Captain Shirogane, I’m about to pee myself in excitement here, come on.”

“Whoa,” said Shiro, brows skyrocketing and finding a hand thrust down to help him up the ramp. The sight made something tighten inside his chest, and it was on the tip of his tongue to protest that he didn’t need any help, thank you, he knew his way around a fucking freighter. But then he followed that hand up to the man it apparently belonged to and recognized him.

“Oh,” said Shiro, startled. “You’re -- Ensign Maine, right? From the uh. The press conference?”

The ensign had risen from his crouch and come to stand sideways, staring back into the belly of the ‘ship. His hand was wiggling in impatience, and considering his past experience with this particular ensign, Shiro had the sudden, strong impression that it hadn’t been held out in deference to Shiro’s potential delicacy, and instead simply because he was eager to get Shiro in and started on the tour and this was the compromise to coming down, grabbing Shiro by his jacket, and hauling him bodily up the ramp.

Huh.

Shiro was about to go ahead and take that hand, because he could probably use the help even if he didn’t want it, and this kind of offer was far more palatable than his first assumption. But at the question, the ensign squawked, swinging around to face him. Standing farther up the incline as he was, it put him taller than Shiro, and his eyes were dark and wide, mouth gaping open in ridiculous, dramatic affront. “Maine,” he said, indignant. “That -- totally not my name, oh my god. Have you thought -- ? Agh! And all this time I’ve been so excited that I actually talked to you and you didn’t even know my name, what --”

Shiro reached up and snagged the ensign’s hand in his, tugging hard, just to get him to shut up. And also maybe because he wanted to. Just a little. Smirking, Shiro said, “I still remember you. Sorry I got the name wrong. What is it?”

He would have looked for himself, but for whatever reason this ensign seemed determined to make it impossible to see the damned name sewn onto his clothes. He was in orange again today, but this time it was a dirty coverall, the upper portion shrugged off to revealed toned biceps and forearms and what appeared to be a firm chest beneath a too-tight white undershirt. Happily, it was still just bright enough on the ramp that Shiro hadn’t had to take off his sunglasses, so the guy wouldn’t be able to tell where Shiro’s gaze was lingering. He let himself appreciate the way the ensign’s bicep bulged like a softball as he took Shiro’s weight, standing firm.

Nice.

“McClain,” said the man, now grinning down at him. It was a very white grin, big and bright in a lean, handsome face, and Shiro finally reached up to twitch his sunglasses atop his head, because Ensign McClain was officially pretty enough for eye-candy and -- yep, those eyes were blue, dark and a little wicked with that glint in them.

“Nice to meet you, Ensign McClain,” Shiro said.

McClain waggled his brows and drew Shiro a little closer, up half a step onto the ramp. “The pleasure, Captain,” he teased, “is all mine. Trust me on that one.”

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations NICO! You’ve been accepted as KERBEROS.

Nico, Luca is a character very much integral to the chaos that goes on here in Chicago, and you brought her to life! I love the motivation you gave her, how she’s set out to prove everyone right, since she can’t seem to prove them wrong. You dug into her background as more than just a mutant and used that to further her identity as a person and her motivations that carry through to current day. Also #justiceforMaddie. I can’t wait to see what hell you and Luca cause on the dash!

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: Nico

PRONOUNS: they/them

AGE: 27

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: GMT+1, I think Kay can now vouch for me, I write like a robot and I will be online every day.

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Kerberos - Luca Mendoza

GENDER/PRONOUNS: female, she/her

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

Luca is intensity. She will burn with fire and create chaos because all her life she has tried to fight what people thought of her just because of her heritage, and then tried to not become what they wanted her to become as a mutant. But with everything that was happening, she knew she should let go. Let it all go and be exactly that which they wished of her: a monster. A creature who fought and stole and cussed and bled, all because of expectations.

BIO:

Tw: discrimination

Growing up in a small almost rural town in the south of the Netherlands, Luca was supposed to grow up with all the liberties of a socialist capitalist state. Health care was taken care of, education was cheap enough to be affordable, and the people were liberal. But she wasn’t sure when, but very early on in life, Luca learned that despite how much a country said it was ‘good’, there would always be misunderstanding towards certain social minorities. She called it Historical Opinions, based on a misunderstanding of the Romani people that outdated most of the people in her surroundings, yet continued to follow her. Luca learned it through the word ‘tokkie’, which was supposed to be a bad name for anyone growing up in the trailer parks at the edge of cities. She came to accept the term without being able to fully grasp its meaning. No matter where she went, or who she was with, once anyone found out where her family lived, she was a ‘tokkie’. It became a term that followed her through all of her childhood. She remembered so many of the moments vividly.

She understood and was angry at this image of her family and everyone who lived in the twenty trailers around her. Luca tried not to think about it too much, but she saw it in every layer of her life. She played soccer, her hair tightly put into a bum, she was aggressive, according to her coaches. She went to school, and despite how smart and self-aware she was, her teachers didn’t want her to be held apart from her friends, her ‘own kind’ thus put her always together with them, even if they were louder and more present than the other kids.

Her mother would comb her hair at night, and do her nails. Her father would sit on the couch in front of the tv, watching a soccer match while his fifth beer of the day disappeared in one big gulp. Someone once tried to explain to her that lower-income families were often forced into these kinds of situations. The situations the person meant was her family always having to buy their clothing at Zeeman, the cheapest store in the city. How their food was often from the MacDonalds because it was cheaper than a home-cooked meal, and how she would, one way or another, end up exactly like everyone else in the trailer park, because they would never get the chance to prove themselves.

Luca wasn’t sad about this future, instead; she was angry. If she was with her family or her friends, nobody took her seriously. They thought she would steal from them, or cuss, or fight. They had expectations that she never even fulfilled. So she became fascinated with the history of her people, she wanted to know why and where these expectations came from. She knew they weren’t true. Her mother never cussed, her father never fought, her brother never stole. But that did not bring down the rumors. The people who walked by the trailer park either stared or they looked away because the sight of these ‘low-income’ people was too much for them to bear.

To her luck, unknowingly, the Netherlands was a fairly liberal country when it came to Mutant laws as well. For the time being at least. Luca grew up slightly oblivious to these kinds of problems because they either never made the news, or they were not made a big deal of. The government decided to keep it mostly under wraps, to say as little as possible, and offer ‘help’ to the mutants that were discovered. Luca was unaware of her own power, because she had never faced off against anyone with actual powers. Or so she thought.

Her first encounter with her own ability was a strange sensation, and it didn’t really start where normal mutant abilities started.

Her name was Madeleine, everyone called her Maddie. She was gorgeous. And by third year of high school, Luca knew she loved girls. Madeleine was exceptional: she played soccer too, but in a different team, she had the lower body of a goddess, and always wore large jumpers that weren’t flattering. But her long blonde hair curled like crazy, and her blue eyes were always smiling. When Luca fell, she fell hard.

It was during research for her project on Romani people during the Second World War - she was by then known as the ‘Romani research girl’ - that Madeleine sat opposite of her, researching her own thing. She was smiling again, and Luca tried not to blush with the extra attention. Suddenly the girl suggested for the two of them to go to the loo together. It was an odd request. But Maddie had a secret, one she only wished to share with someone who didn’t know her. One she only wished to share with someone who knew what it was like to be the odd one out.

She could breathe fire.

Two months later, and so could Luca. But only when they were close together, and the way things were going, Luca and Maddie were very close very often. They didn’t know any other powered people, however, so despite how badly Maddie wanted to find out what more Luca could do, there really was no way.

Life was great for a while, as Luca grew older, and Maddie stayed at her side, loyal. Her soccer-playing, jumper-wearing disaster wife. She could ignore the words people threw at her for her family history all the more easier when she was walking hand in hand through the school with Maddie.

Then one day, Maddie didn’t come to school anymore.

She was not the first to disappear, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. At first people just thought healthy, soccer-playing, jumper-wearing Maddie was ill. But after a week, Luca began to worry. Finally not even the news nor the government could ignore the disappearances. As Luca was crying on the couch, just shy of her eighteenth birthday, the liberal stance of the Netherlands towards the testing and prosecution of Mutants fell. And with it, Luca’s last hope of being reunited with Maddie.

She held on for a little longer, bitter, scared, angry. Her family felt her distance and tried everything they could to pull her back. But they knew too, they had always known. Her brother was taken first. He had managed to keep it a secret from her, but not her parents, that he could breathe underwater. She wondered if there was any significance about these two individuals so close to her both having something that involved breathing as her mother came into her room and told her to pack her stuff. She was angry at first, raging that she didn’t want to go, that this was unfair, that people shouldn’t think she was something just because she had a power nobody wished to understand. But eventually she gave in.

She moved around for years. For the first time understanding, after having dived so deep into the history of her people, what it must’ve been like for them. Not completely, she could never, she hadn’t lived through most of what they had lived through. But she too had to avoid major cities, she too knew that she wouldn’t be accepted as a full human, she knew the shame she would feel if she connected to anyone and brought them trouble. Her mind spun during those years. Sometimes she found like-minded souls, people who were running from something but had long since forgotten what they were running from. Most days, she missed Maddie.

Slowly, the grief and the bitterness turned to rage. More than before she began to see what fear did to those who were feared. They slowly turned into monsters.

Luca turned into a monster. Perhaps not one who would kill and rage and flung themselves to harm those in their way, but she became something that too often bordered on rage. Rage to prove everyone wrong, yet, to also prove them right. If they wanted her to be what they thought she should be, then she would. No longer would she try to prove them wrong, she would be what they wished to see in her, and she would be more than just that.

She came to Chicago knowing nothing. Traveling and good education had taught her English, but she clearly had little knowledge of this new country, and she tried to blend in as quickly as possible, while also trying to stand out as much as possible.

So when she heard of the Jem Family, she felt like they were like-minded, she felt like there her rage would be embraced rather than feared. So she made it her mission to seek them out and win their favor. It wasn’t hard. Not once they knew what her power was, not once she learned she was incredibly dangerous if she wanted to be. And she wanted to be. And she became the monster.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Angela Ramone: It took a while for Luca to get to the bottom of their jealousy, to understand why she felt what she felt. She had never really wanted power, but she wanted to change the world. She wanted for the world to understand that the mutants were there, and they were going to fight for their rights. But she didn’t think Angela was the person to do it, she didn’t believe for one moment that Angela could encompass the vision that was needed to ensure this new time, this new reign. This better place. Where people like her, like Maddie, could be safe. Feared and safe, where nobody dared to take one of them away, or ignore their rights.

JACKSON RAEMERS: Jackson reminds her of Maddie. Not that Maddie was a man with a beard and who could shape-shift, but he did have that careful nature about him. He was kind, and most of all, he was there for her if she needed it. And she had forgotten over the years how badly she craved normal human contact that wasn’t all about being a mutant and being on the run and surviving another day or fighting for others. He made her feel human for a little, made her feel like she was appreciated for something other than the chaos she sought to embody.

Derek Park: Derek and Luca were absolutely meant to be friends. There really wasn’t any way around it. From the moment she met him, she knew that they should generate chaos. They had to, as if some unspoken promise forced her to stand at his side. She knew it was deeper than that. She just wanted to be able to manipulate fire again. It might not be through her breath, but it was something that brought her a little closer to Maddie, if only in spirit. Not to mention the level of destruction the two of them can create: that is chaos, that is power. At Derek’s side, Luca can be the monster she craves to be. At Derek’s side, she can raise hell and show everyone that nobody messes with them. So whenever she is given the chance, she will try to push Derek to his limits, because his limits allow her to learn, and in learning, they can become stronger. If anyone deserves to burn their enemies to the ground, it is them.

EXTRA: 

Luca is Dutch.

She exclusively loves girls.

She can tell you anything about the Romani people in the Netherlands and Germany between the end of the 1800s and post-WWII.

Despite having lived in the US for the past couple of years, Luca is still oblivious to a lot of American things.

She’s grown up thinking the US was a failed state, but now she hates her own country more for betraying their liberal ideals.

[ebhenah]

KLANCE: snippet of random thoughts to fight writer’s block....

Pidge’s 21st birthday ends with her, Hunk, Lance and Keith sitting around on a hotel room floor sharing a bottle of champagne and talking. Keith and Lance have been a couple for years now and old arguments have faded into gentle teasing. The four have been friends so long and been through so much together that there are few secrets left, but they always manage to dredge up one of two on nights of drunken reminiscence like this. Tonight, it had been the revelation that of all of them, Hunk had been the youngest to have sex for the first time, and that Shiro (who is not even present) was the eldest. That led to a discussion about fixing perpetually single Shiro up with someone. Pidge pulls out her phone and passes the bottle to Lance. “I’ve been putting some thought into this,” she explains, “based on comments by Matt, my own observations, and a deep dive into Shiro’s dating history- I have complied...no...compleed? No. COM-PILE-ED this list. Input?”

Hunk leans over her shoulder, “ooooh- the second guy looks promising! He runs a pet store! How cute is that!?!?”

Keith glances over and shakes his head, “nope.”

Lance finishes his swig and hands off the bottle, “Keith IS the resident Shiro expert.”

Pidge sighs, conceding to his point and turns the phone fully to Keith, “anybody on this list look good?”

Keith hums to himself as he scrolls, “nope. Sorry. None of them are his type.”

“Ugh. Fine. Moving on... okay.. umm... Weirdest non-sexual, LEGAL thing your parents ever walked in on you doing... and go!”

“Using medical tape to make my sister’s wedding dress fit better in the... uhhh... chesticle area,” Lance says immediately and everyone just looks at him.

“Pretty sure it doesn’t top... whatever the hell THAT was...” Hunk shakes his head, “but probably making a coconut bra.”

“Why does everyone’s answer have to do with boobs?” Pidge muses, “mine is stuffing my bra for Halloween.”

“Well, I don’t remember anything like that from when I was a kid, so I guess... trying to hijack the blades comms system so I could have a private conversation with my boyfriend? They thought they were being hacked.”

Lance doubles over in laughter, “I remember that! Krolia just.... hung around the whole time we were talking. That was... awkward.”

“IS that legal, though?” ponders Hunk. “The Blades were like 100% illegal as far as the Empire was concerned, right? So, like anything to do with them would be illegal, too.”

“Then, can I count Shiro and Adam? They weren’t my parents, but they acted like they were half the time...”

“Sure- you can count Space Dad,” Pidge laughs, “I mean, we call him Space Dad for fuck’s sake.”

“Then it’s selling condoms out of my locker.”

“WHAT?!?” they chorus.

“Babe... I love you and all.... but... holy crow... what the hell??”

“I needed cash,” Keith answers with a shrug, “and they had this like FISHBOWL of condoms in their bathroom and every time I was over one of them would be like ‘you know we never count those... we have no idea how many are in there’- like they were trying to be the cool moms or something. So, this one time, I grabbed like... I dunno, a couple dozen and then I sold them at school for like five bucks for two. Easy money.”

“Jesus- I wonder what the hell they thought you needed that many condoms for!” Hunk shakes his head, laughing softly.

“They thought I was selling them out of my locker. Which I was. And then they caught me red handed selling them out of my locker. But they couldn’t get mad at me about it, really, because... you know... I was making it easier for my classmates to get condoms... they were very pro-condoms.”

“What did you need cash for?” Pidge grabs the bottle back.

“I have no idea now. Clothes? Food? Movies? It felt important at the time.”

“Well, Iiiiii had no idea my man was so enterprising in school,” Lance coos, curling into Keith’s side. Keith drapes his arm around Lance’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head.

“Oh! I’ve got one! Most awkward crush!” Hunk grins. “I’ll start- my older sister’s boyfriend. He was a life guard and I wasn’t out yet.”

“My best friend in sixth grade. They were sooooo cute,” moans Pidge, “oh my crow, I was a tongue tied mess!”

“You,” Lance answers, tipping his head up to kiss Keith’s cheek. “The whole rivalry thing was... yikes.”

“Can I skip this one?”

“Sure,” laughs Hunk, “it’s pretty obvious anyway. It was Lance.”

“No way- definitely Shiro,” counters Pidge. “That’s way more awkward than Lance! If it was Lance he’d just say so... right?”

“I never had a crush on Shiro,” Keith insists.

“Babe- it’s sweet that you say that to protect my pride and all, but... I mean... come on...”

“I’m serious,” Keith laughs, “I’ve never had a crush on Shiro. He’s not my type! Too...uh... SHIRO-ISH- that’s not a word, but you know- he’s too much of a Space Dad.”

“Even before? I mean, I hear these stories about you guys before Kerderos, and he seems pretty different...”

“Kerderos? Lance, my man, you are drunnnnk.”

“We’re ALL drunk, Hunky.”

“Before Kerberos he was... too ‘cool mom’... and too serious about school and shit... and sure, he’s handsome, but... meh...”

“Did you just ‘meh’ SHIRO THE HERO?” Pidge laughs so hard she falls over.

“Then who was it?” Hunk asks, “s’pretty clear we don’t really care- was years ago, right?”

“Fine,” Keith sighs, “it was Adam... and it was mortifying.”

“Adam? Like ‘Shiro and Adam’? THAT Adam?? BABE!”

Keith nods, “there. I answered. Moving on.”

“Waaaaait,” Pidge leans over, studying Keith’s face, “is that why you rejected my whole entire list? Because YOU didn’t think any of them were hot?”

He nods again, “we have the same taste. He used to try to play match maker for me. It was... weird.”

“Alright! In THAT case... here,” Pidge thrusts her phone out again, “this is my database- parse it down to acceptable options and we’ll try again.”

“You have a database?” Keith blinks blearily at her, “this is color-coded! How much time have you put into this??”

“I can’t believe my boyfriend had a crush on Shiro’s boyfriend,” Lance mutters to Hunk, “I think that means he wins for most awkward crush, right?”

“Yeah, buddy, I think so,” Hunk nods, “unless... you know... it works both ways...”

“Huh?”

“The same taste thing...”

“Hey Hunk,” Keith interrupts, “pass over the booze, I gotta pick out a dating list I guess!”

Things shift gears as they sift through the disturbingly detailed bios that Pidge has put together in a file entitled ‘Mission: GSMO’ (Get Shiro Married Off). Eventually, they have it narrowed down to five guys, and Pidge kicks everyone out so she can crash.

It’s not until later, when Keith is snoring beside him and Lance is about to pass out himself that Hunk’s comment comes back to him  ‘unless it works both ways...’ He snorts to himself and smiles, then bolts upright in bed, sending his head into Olympic-Ice-Dancing levels of spins. “Keith! Keith! You and Shiro have the same taste! And you’re with ME! Oh my GOD! Does Shiro think I’m hot??? Keith! Keith! KEEEEEEEITH!!!” But, it’s no use, Keith is out like a light, and when Lance pries himself back to the waking world in the morning, he can’t remember anything that happened after they left the bar.

[maandags]

Matt coming back to an s/o who has moved on

Request: Could you write matt coming back to earth, and seeing his s/o that he proposed to before he left for Kerberos, but she has moved on? Like she through he was dead for like... 10 years?? (Just my guess) I rlly hope this makes sense and sorry if it doesn’t :/

Hey! Thanks for requesting this, I hope this was what you had in mind. I had a fun time writing it! Even though it makes my heart hurt a lot because my baby D:

Anyway, hope you enjoy it xo

~Mod Water

Words: 1773

TW: very angsty

"Y/N, you have to come. Now."

"Iverson, it's literally three a.m."

----

You had been sleeping peacefully when commander Iverson had woken you up from your slumber, talking incoherently and way too fast for you to understand. You'd assured the blabbering man that you'd be there in fifteen minutes before you threw on some clothes, put your hair in a ponytail, left a note for your still-asleep girlfriend that explained where you'd gone and drove towards the garrison at a speed that you were sure was not completely legal.

While you kept the gas pedal floored, you thought back to the conversation you'd had with Iverson on the phone. You hadn't understood most of it, but one name Iverson kept repeating. Matt Holt.

Matt Holt, your ex-fiancé. Matt Holt, the guy who had proposed to you before disappearing in space. Matt Holt, who had been presumed dead for over three years.

Of course, when you had heard about the Kerberos mission failure, you had done everything in your power to find out more about the crash. You had become a teacher at the Garrison to be close to any evidence, any clues that the Kerberos team could have survived. You'd spent many a sleepless night researching and worrying and crying over your lost fiancé. But so far, you'd come up with nothing.

Your thoughts jumped to the engagement ring that laid in a small jewellery box in your room. You hadn't looked at it in months. You rubbed your thumb over the spot on your ring finger where it used to sit, a small indentation on the skin a perpetual reminder of what you'd lost. Not that it mattered now, anyway.

You'd stopped hoping he was alive after a while. It had taken years, but eventually you had slipped that ring off your finger and met up with other people. You were dating a girl that you loved a lot. You'd moved on.

Or so you thought. Thinking about Matt now made your stomach clench, a feeling you hadn't had in a long time, perhaps because you'd never been this close to knowing what had hapened to him. You suddenly felt the strong urge to put the engagement ring back on your finger.

Your knuckles turned white on the steering wheel of your car. You had a girlfriend.

As you got closer to the Garrison, a little ball of heat started to form in your chest. It enveloped your heart with hope that Iverson had somehow found evidence that Matt was still alive.

But you pushed away the thought. You couldn't afford to hope when all you would recieve was disappoitment.

The thought that scared you the most was that maybe you never truly got over Matt. Of course you didn't, you had been planning to marry him, for God's sake. You had tried to forget about him by drowning yourself in work, nights out with friends, meeting new people in the hopes that one of them would fill the gaping hole that Matt had created when he left. And your girlfriend did. She'd made you forget about Matt, made you smile when nothing could cheer you up, taught you how to have fun again. She'd made your smile reach your eyes.

Sometimes, you thought you saw your friends shoot you worried glances. Sometimes, they still asked hesitantly if you were okay. You shrugged off their concern with endless I'm fine's, pulling your girlfriend closer or grabbing her hand as if to prove your point, when half of the time you weren't sure what being fine felt like anymore. But you'd pushed all those thoughts to the very back of your head, locked them in a mental drawer that you hadn't opened in a very long time. You had tried so hard to convince everyone that you were okay that you had started to believe it yourself.

And then Iverson dropped a bomb like this. You almost hit a cat as you hastily pulled up in the Garrison's parking lot, slamming your foot on the brake and getting thrown forward as the small animal hurried away. You took a second to catch your breath, taking big gulps of air as you tried to calm your racing heart down; you felt as if you'd just ran a marathon.

The echo of your quick footsteps were the only sound you heard as you sprinted down the hall. The bright artificial lights hurt your eyes after the dark night you'd left behind outside, leaving you with black spots in your vision. As you reached the door to Iverson's office, you didn't even bother to knock. You slammed open the door, and stopped dead in your tracks.

There, right in front of you, stood Matt.

He was dressed in clothes you were sure you hadn't seen before: a grey sort of tunic, ripped and burnt at the edges with brown trousers and black boots. His hair was longer than you remembered, reaching his shoulders and straighter: it used to stand up in all directions back when you knew him. He had gotten taller over the last few years: he'd grown at least a couple centimetres. His face was more rugged, and a scar stretched across his cheek. A shadow of stubble dusted his neck and chin. Almost all of the soft lines in his face were gone: his facial features seemed harder somehow, pointier, like a soldier's who'd just returned from a war.

Then you locked eyes, and your breath hitched in your throat. He'd changed so much that you almost wouldn't have recognised him, hadn't you known him so well, but his eyes had stayed the exact same. The same beautiful amber eyes that had stared into yours so many times before, and that you got lost in so easily. Those eyes that made your heart speed up, your palms sweaty and your knees wobbly.

The fact that all these feelings slammed into you the actual second you laid eyes on Matt scared you. A lot. You had to remind yourself to breathe.

"Y/N."

Matt breathed your name like he'd been waiting to say it. Like he was a man dying of thirst and your name was water. The look in his eyes was too much for you to handle: you spun on your heel and marched out of the office.

Once you stepped into the hall you broke out into a run, making a beeline for the nearest door to the outside. You heard footsteps echo behind you, a shout of your name, but you didn't slow down until you'd reached the door.

A hand gripped your own. You spun around, eyes watering. "You were dead, Matt," you spat.

You immediately regretted saying that, a look of hurt flashing across Matt's face. You snatched away your hand. "Where were you?"

Matt opened his mouth; closed it again, obviously not having anticipated your sharp words. "Space," he mumbled after a while, half a smile on his face.

You raised your eyebrows and scoffed, about to turn around again, but Matt grabbed your hand once more. "Y/N, wait."

"Space, Matt? That's all I get? Space? No, no," you cut him off before he could say anything. "For years I searched. Years. I've done everything in my power, and more, to find out what happened to you-" The words caught in your throat. You furiously wiped at the tears that had started pouring out of your eyes.

"You have every right to be angry at me, Y/N," Matt said softly, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. "Just let me explain."

You gave a curt nod. You were going to get answers. Right now.

And so Matt told his story. You didn't understand half of it, though you did register something about aliens dominating the universe and a giant robot. You didn't interrupt him while he spoke, trying to find any sign on his face that he was making this up, but if there was one thing you knew about Matt, it was that he can't lie for shit. Matt was telling the truth, as weird as it seemed.

When he was done talking, you could only gawk at him. "Wow."

"That pretty much sums it up." A sad smile played on his lips. You frowned, only then noticing the way Matt's gaze flickered to your right hand every few seconds. Suddenly feeling guilty, you stuffed both of your hands in your pockets.

"I missed you so much." He wouldn't meet your gaze as he said it. His lips were pursed in a thin line. "I thought of you every day I was in that prison, and every day after that."

"Matt..." You didn't know what to say. All words just left your mind, and you could only stare as Matt reached up to wipe tears from his eyes.

"Matt, you were gone. As far as I knew, you were dead. I spent days and nights without sleeping, worrying about you, searching for you. But I was deteriorating." Now it was you that hesitantly took Matt's hand, forcing him to look at you as you spoke. "I wasn't eating, was barely drinking enough. I couldn't keep living like that. And then... well, I met Veronica," you sighed, reaching up to scratch your head. "Veronica got my life back on track. She was there for me when I was feeling particularly miserable and would always listen to me rant. She never gave up on me."

Matt nodded slowly, sadness evident on his face, but you grew more confident with every word you whispered to the still air between the two of you. "I still love you, Matt. I will always love you. I'm just not in love with you anymore."

The silence that followed your words tingled in the air, but it wasn't a tense silence. Just sad. Matt stared into your eyes for a long time, and you held his gaze, trying to comfort him. The words you spoke had obviously hurt him, but you needed him to know, because every single one had been true.

You did still love Matt. You loved him so much. You just weren't in love with him anymore.

"Can I still hug you?" He asked timidly, shuffling on his feet. You smiled, responding by wrapping your arms around his neck in a firm embrace. His body was warm, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, folding his arms around you. You felt your shirt get wet, but you didn't care, just gently stroked his hair.

"I'm glad you're alive," you muttered into his shoulder.

"Me too."

_______

Gahhhh my first fic! Don't hesitate to tell me what you think about it!

[ambivalentangst]

Our Blossoming Hearts

Another pinch hitter work for @voltron-ss for @mango-fangirl, coming in hot with a klance soulmate au that I’ve had as a WIP for a long time, that this event allowed me to finish! I really hope you enjoy it, this was a pleasure to make!

   Keith knew the story behind why the flowers bloomed on his palms. He was one of the lucky few in the world who had a soulmate. Someone the universe had specially picked out, that would fit with Keith like no other possibly could. Some person that had the unfortunate luck of being stuck with him. If only he could tell whoever made the such beautiful blossoms that they didn’t know who they apparently loved so much. If they did, Keith was sure they wouldn’t care at all. Nobody else ever did.

   Lance loved his soulmate fiercely. Ever since the buds opened on his collarbones with a small prick and a hesitant unfurling of red petals, he had been head over heels for somebody he’d never met. That was just the way it was. Lance always gave his love like that, simple and easy just because he had so much love to share. It was what drew people to him, but who Lance wanted more than anything was the soulmate that made his red flowers, unlike any in the world, grow so full and scarlet and in such abundance that they hung like a halo above his shoulders.

   Keith ripped his flowers from his flesh, slicing them savagely off of his skin day after day. It became routine, the harsh cut of scissors on the stem just above the center of his palm. It stung, just a little since they weren’t really part of him. Still, his soulmate’s love made them grow in just as full the next day. Again, Keith severed them from himself day in and out, one for each hand. It was why he’d taken to wearing the gloves, to hide the crushed petals from the outside world. It was only late at night, just a few hours before the flowers met their demise, that he let them ghost across the skin of his face that he held in his own hands at one foster home or another. It was pathetic and his cheeks burned in shame as he did it, but oh how he adored the gentle tickle of them against his skin. Someone out there loved him, but Keith could not allow himself to hope. It would just hurt more in the end.

   Lance let his flowers grow, drank lots of water and took care of his skin because if that was the fodder they needed to grow strong, then so be it. It never hurt to look good anyways. He wore his flowers like precious jewels draped over a king. Lance certainly felt like one with such treasure. They felt like a shield from the world, and even when tears slipped from his eyes and he cast his eyes down, he was always reminded by that ring of red that there was someone waiting for him. They loved him, and that was enough.

   Keith smothered his flowers beneath leather gloves as he always had, tight and starving them of air that could kill the flowers on others. No matter what Keith tried, by the end of the day he always had full, azure blooms to show for his soulmate’s unending affections.

   When Lance went to the Garrison he refused to trim them. Lance had long ago learned how to bring his most precious possessions back to life after a day crushed beneath clothes, even though the uniforms were tight and his flowers always left an awkward bump in the fabric. So be it. He would not cast off his soulmate’s love. Keith, on the other hand, was reluctantly permitted to wear the gloves.

His latest foster family, the Shiroganes, had their son and the kid who was essentially Keith’s big brother talk with the board and upon explanation they’d let it happen. So, while Lance garnered attention and stories throughout the school for his wreath he proudly wore, Keith hid his away. It was Lance’s flowers that drew his attention, that made him worthy of notice, not their stupid ‘rivalry’. Lance had his shirt off in the common room, preening and grooming his flowers while others pretended not to stare, when Keith walked in and was slammed with the realization that there was someone out there who had enough faith to keep their flowers, to let them grow so fully. Lance didn’t have to hide his for fear of being hurt. Deep within Keith something tore painfully at the sight, and he turned away. It did not even occur to him that his want for love, the love he felt for whoever it was that cared for him so generously is what made that circlet of red on Lance.

Lance continued his studies, working hard to keep up and even harder to keep his flowers in shape. It had always been something he took seriously. He couldn’t bear to part with his flowers, and every time a bud simply fell off with the passage of time, even when others took his place, he mourned. He had all of his fallen petals back home, kept in a jar of wilted love. He began another at the Garrison, though he never told anyone. It was something special, just for him. He was silent and while his flowers were common knowledge, his devotion to them was not as much so.

Keith studied, when he felt like it. He worked and kept an eye on the boy with the soulmate who loved him so. Lance was always in the back of his mind, every time he brought his blade with its glowing symbol down time and time again on his flowers, letting them fall into the trash to be later burned. He’d never kept a single one.

The Kerberos mission sent Keith away. Lance rose to fighter class, but he recognized that it was not his own work that got him there. That saddened him, but he remembered that he was still good, he was still worth love. That was why he had a soulmate, and so with a kiss pressed to the glass he kept old flowers in, he soldiered on.

It was not until Lance was shoved into space that he realized he’d left his soulmate, whoever they were, behind. He was crushed, but there was no time to grieve for love lost in space, He had a war to win, and so he fought.

Keith had never believed he truly had a chance. He’d accepted very early on that all the wonderful stories he’d heard of those who came from horrible lives, but met their soulmate and had everything turn around for them weren’t for him. He knew that all it took was a brushing of their petals. If two people were soulmates, the flowers were supposed to light up, glow with undeniable radiance. Still, it stung to know that he would never have that. Not anymore, if he ever had. Nobody wanted a freak of a soulmate, that wasn’t even human. As Lance took his shirt off to expose his broad shoulders crowned in flowers that bloomed so beautifully, Keith always felt the pain of such joy.

He was the one who found out first.

Lance had fallen asleep on one of the couches in the common room, like he had back at the Garrison. The castle was on the night cycle, and Keith was suddenly hyper aware of the idea that should he want to, he could reach out to touch him. His gloves were tight, strangling the life that wanted so desperately to thrive on his hands, but it wouldn’t be hard. It was irrational, yes. So improbable it was absurd, but yet Keith found his feet taking quick, light steps that brought him to Lance, sleeping so peacefully. He had to know if the one person he knew like him was his. Keith worked his glove off with surprising care for someone who wore them so religiously. The flower was there as always, full and overflowing the skin of his hand. Hesitantly, he reached forward, and let it touch Lance’s.

   Keith clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable disappointment when he opened them. As they cracked open again he let out a sigh of both relief and resigned acceptance. Of course not, Lance was the last person that could possibly be his soulmate. He hated him anyways, so it didn’t matter. Keith was ready to pull away, when he finally saw the glow.

   It threaded through their petals in veiny lines, lit up in a purple light that made Keith’s breath catch in his throat. It was impossible, it couldn’t be, but there it was. Lance’s petals glowed the same violet, threaded through their normal scarlet. Keith stared at his flowers, the same ones that grew every day no matter how he tried to be rid of them.

   Lance loved him. He made those flowers grow faster than the wind could blow, allowed his own to be voluminous and wild on the garden of his body. Keith had cut them day after day, even knowing they’d be back. Keith yanked his hands back. Lance couldn’t know. Lance would never know, because Lance would never want him.

   The glow disappeared as Keith pulled away. After the incident he did not speak with, did not even look at Lance unless he absolutely had to. All he could think of when he did was the way his face had looked in sleep, lips parted peacefully while a violet shock overcame the petals he tended to so diligently. The experience added a special sort of pain to the way his blade severed the blooms, but Keith did not stop. He could never give in, because that would mean he was defeated. That would mean he allowed himself to hope.

   Keith was not expecting his gloves to be destroyed. He had not planned for that, in any sense of the word. Still, he wasn’t exactly ready for a simple resource gathering mission to be on a planet with an acidic atmosphere. Neither had Coran, and therefore while Keith was otherwise fine his gloves were not. The pathetic scraps of not-even-cloth were nothing wearable, and they had no resources on hand to make a suitable replacement. Thus, Keith had a dilemma. He went to Shiro, explaining with buds already half grown at that point in the day, that he needed something to cover them. He did not explain why such matters were so important, but how could he? He knew Shiro would meddle, as big brothers were prone to do. Still, he had nothing for him, and Keith simply took to whittling down his flowers whenever he could. If he could just reduce them to stems, they were much less noticeable. Still, when he trained he didn’t always have time or the energy to stop every hour or so to cut his petals.

   Why was Lance so persistent anyways? It was annoying. Or at least, Keith told himself it was annoying. Nobody needed to know how he laid awake at night, blushing in the dark of his room because suddenly he was hyperaware of everything and anything Lance did. The way he was thrumming with life and beauty, bursting at the seams with it when Keith seemed so dull in comparison. It made him incredibly happy in a clandestine, mortifying way that Keith had never really experienced before. He hated it. In response to that hatred, he trained.

   Lance had noticed that Keith was avoiding him and that admittedly kind of stung because he’d thought they’d been doing better and of course he craved for those violet eyes to look to him with something more than a base tolerance, but he didn’t hold it against him. It really wasn’t that big of a deal, there was no need to be upset. Except of course, Lance was. He tried to stop watching his back fade from sight, always leaving the moment Lance’s foot hit the door. Had he done something wrong? It pained him not to know, especially after how many night he’d spent fantasizing and hoping that maybe, if he got lucky, Keith would be the one for him. Apparently, it wasn’t to be. One moment everything had been fine, and then overnight Keith decided that he wanted nothing to do with him. He knew Keith trained, had laser precision focus that he reverted to in battle, but he also knew that Keith was logging more hours than ever in the training deck. He knew it was because of him too. When he saw him in there, dodging and rolling with the lithe grace of a panther he could only sigh and turn away, flinching as he heard the tell tale sound of gladiator after gladiator falling to his blade.

   At least he had his soulmate though, Lance reasoned. As far as he knew humans were the only one with such a phenomena and though he hated knowing that he’d left his soulmate behind on Earth, it was comforting to know they were safe. He would protect them along with the rest of the universe, and then he would return home. Just like always, Lance tended to his flowers. Somewhere out there someone loved him enough to swath him in scarlet, he only had to wait to find them.

   Lance went to the training deck when he could, but it was getting increasingly harder to do so. Every time Lance poked his head through the doors, there was Keith hacking away at the robots and dutifully Lance would turn away. He didn’t want to be anywhere he wasn’t wanted. It was one of those times he tried and failed to have the room to himself, or at least without Keith, that he saw it. Wrapped tightly around Keith’s bayard in a sharp contrast to its red, were crushed, blue petals. Lance sucked in a sharp breath, and that drew Keith’s attention long enough to give the bot the advantage. It rammed its staff hard into Keith’s chest, sending him back a good couple meters and into the wall. Lance yelped, and called for an end to the training as he rushed over to him.

   “Woah, I’m sorry man I didn’t mean to get you hurt,” he told him, fretting over Keith’s smaller body. It was packed with muscle, hard lines at every turn and Lance ignored the way his cheeks burned at that discovery. Keith lifted a hand to wave him off, Lance’s hand braced against his back to help him sit up.

   “It’s fine,” he managed between coughs. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” Lance bit his lip, ignoring the sting from previous times he’d done such a thing.

   “If you’re sure,” he ceded reluctantly, helping Keith to his feet. Now that the danger had passed, Lance was able to be properly enamored with the blossoms on Keith’s palms again. He grinned, taking his wrist to hold his hand face up.

   “These are gorgeous. You didn’t tell me you had a soulmate,” he complained, gently tracing the outline of each individual petal. Keith stuttered in his response, his hand tense beneath Lance’s touch.

   “I-It wasn’t important,” he protested while Lance hummed his surprise. He marveled at how soft they were under his touch, touching one to his cheek.

   “They’re gorgeous!” he exclaimed, and Keith felt his heart melt at how soft Lance’s face looked against the blossoms he unknowingly brought to life. Keith laughed a little awkwardly, and did his best to remain calm.

   “Thanks, I guess. Not my work, anyways,” he told him. Lance only laughed, and Keith felt his breath catch in his throat at the way he tossed his head back a little while his blue eyes sparkled. This was his soulmate, and Lance didn’t even know it.

   “Yeah but they’re still so pretty. I’ve only ever seen a few people with them, and they’re so full.” Lance’s flowers were forming a bulge in his shirt, and though Keith could understand precisely why Lance much preferred not wearing a shirt, he was glad he had to to be decent, or Keith would’ve been a goner. His gaze fell on the flowers again.

   “It’s too bad you always crush them beneath your gloves. Or, well, used to I guess. You don’t really get to do that anymore,” he mused, before his grip tightened on Keith and a smile lit up his face.

   “We should do some skincare. I know you’re a little dry and I have just the thing for-” Keith shut down, and yanked his hand away quickly.

   “No, none of that,” he snapped, and tried to ignore the guilt he felt at seeing Lance visibly deflate. It was far too risky to even allow himself to think on that, when they could so easily make contact and then Lance would know. Keith couldn’t have that. “I-I don’t like that, sorry. Just not in the mood, okay? Maybe some other time.” Lance nodded, his broad shoulders and the halo of red Keith knew to adorn them hunched together.

   “Oh, okay. Have fun training, Keith,” he told him, and then he was brushing past him and he was gone. While Lance cried later in his room despite the love his flowers reminded him of, Keith felt guilt erupt from within him as he cut the growth off. Despite how he’d crushed him, it was as full as ever.

   Then there was the mission, and Keith knew everything was truly over for him.  He was done for, finished about the second Lance yanked him by the collar and shoved him in what appeared to be a utility closet to hide while masses of sentries crashed by. He could feel Lance’s hot breath against his neck, clamping a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t cry out. He bit his fingers and with a hiss he was released.

   “What was that for?” Lance growled, and Keith wished there was light so he could glare and Lance and have the message be received.

   “For shoving me, you idiot,” he snapped, and Lance scoffed.

   “I’m sorry, would you rather me have left you out there for the sentries?” Keith grumbled, but didn’t deny his point.

   “It sounds like they’re gone, anyways. Let’s get out of here.” Keith reached forward to push on the door, but when he pressed, nothing happened. He pushed a few more times, palms slamming into the cold metal. It didn’t budge. Lance sighed.

   “Let me try it, you’re not doing it right,” he told him. Keith was irritated, but he stepped away. Lance banged around and made as much noise as Keith had, but again, nothing happened.

   “I’m not doing it right?” Keith mocked. Lance let out a huff of irritation.

   “I had a fair chance, alright? Now how do we get out of here? I might be able to shoot the lock off, but I can’t see two feet in front of me, and you’ll be even more useless if I hit you by accident. Keith was indignant at that, but he fumed in silence. Fueling the argument would do him no good. Lance shifted around. At the very least there was enough room for that to be comfortable in wherever they were. He ran his hands along the wall looking for a lightswitch, but all remained dark. Lance cursed under his breath. Keith didn’t know how long they’d been locked away for, but he did know that it was long enough to have the team start to be worried. Their comms weren’t working for some reason, perhaps the signal was blocked in the closet. Keith didn’t know, but he did know he was going to have a problem if they didn’t get out soon. It was then, as Lance brushed past him in the dark, that he realized he had a solution.

   Keith instantly shot down the idea. No, no, no. No, absolutely not. He was not going to throw out the fact that he and Lance were soulmates now just so that they could escape. That was irrational and wrong and such a horrible idea he could barely stand it. Still, what choice did they have? Their teammates were waiting on them, and they needed to go. With a resigned sigh and fear that climbed in his chest, Keith breathed out a command.

   “Lance, I need to see your flowers.” Lance hummed, banging on something or other in the room. He was still in pursuit of a switch.

   “Now’s not really the time, Keith. Besides, you can’t see shit in here. The lighting is absolutely awful, really. Later.” Keith had to resist the urge to reach over and strange him.

   “Just get them out, Lance,” he snarled. Lance complained and still didn’t appear to understand, but he did as told. Keith rolled back his suit to expose his hands with a grimace. Lance already knew about the flowers, and Keith could feel them, crushed and sweaty on his palms. He fumbled in the darkness until he made contact, and like before, after a moment of pause the light that threaded through them was enough to illuminate both their faces. Keith heard a gasp from Lance, and he had to fight to keep his hands from balling into fists that would disguise the connection there.

   “Just get us out of here,” he murmured lowly. He tried to fight the tears that threatened to rise. He never wanted Lance to know. He hated that he did, he hated that he knew because now he’d have to tell Keith that he didn’t want him. Even if Keith cut his own flowers off, he cherished them more than anything. He just wanted someone to love him, and Lance certainly wouldn’t. When Lance got his bearings, he tried to protest.

   “Keith, I’m-” He cut him off again, louder this time and each word was carefully filed into a stinging point.

    “Get. Us. Out.”

   Lance did not argue.

   Keith hurried away from Lance at the castle before he could even try to talk to him. He ran and hid in his room for hours, craning his ears for sound, or rather the lack of. He wanted to know if it was safe to go out. Still, eventually there came a knock at the door, and a tentative voice called out for him.

   “Keith? Keith, are you in there?” Keith, of course, didn’t respond. He sunk deeper in the mound of covers he’d made for himself, as if by doing so he could block out the sound of his soulmate. As it was, he could feel his whole body tingling with Lance’s proximity. His bed also creaked, loudly, and gave him away. Outside, Keith could hear Lance’s sigh.

   “Keith, we need to talk. How did you even know we were soulmates? It was a good strategy to get us out, but we can’t pretend that nothing happened.” Keith’s low, raspy voice that had been wrung out as he cried responded,

   “Yes we can. Go away, Lance.”

   There was silent, and then an unfamiliar sizzling sound and the door slid open. Keith poked his eyes up above his blankets, watching Lance stride in.

   “How did you get in?” he demanded to know. Lance tossed him a little, strange gadget that he had gotten from god only knew where. By that, Keith assumed it was Pidge’s.

   “Hunk was poking around in Pidge’s room and found this. I meant to give it back, but it’s kinda handy.” Keith scowled.

   “Maybe for you.” Lance had the shame to at least blush at that.

   “Yeah, sorry, but what was I supposed to do? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, Keith. I thought we were doing okay, that we were getting closer. Is there something wrong with me? Do you,” he began, and Keith’s heart twisted painfully because his voice sounded so small and hurt and it was because of him, “Do you not want me as your soulmate?” Keith exploded, standing up quickly.

   “No! No, not at all. I-” he cleared his throat, and looked away, embarrassed. “I thought you wouldn’t want me, so I didn’t want to burden you with that knowledge.” Lance blinked in surprise.

   “You thought I wouldn’t want you?”

   Keith looked down, a scarlet stain to his cheeks.

   “I was skeptical, okay? Nobody ever has before. Are you saying you do?” Lance looked at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world, and he put his face in his hands in exasperation.

   “I’ve only been pining after you since the Garrison,” he mumbled dejectedly, and Keith laughed. He hadn’t been expecting anything like that, and it made him beam.

   “You’re not bad yourself,” he mumbled, and Lance grinned just as widely, displaying the smile that made Keith’s heart go all funny in his chest.

   “Yeah?”

   “Yeah.”

   Lance reached out and took Keith’s hand, lacing their fingers together while his blue eyes gleamed happily.

   “Good, because if I had to deal with your mood for any longer, I was gonna lose it,” he admitted. Keith laughed, and though Lance was pressing the petals on his palms messily against his skin, all was well. They’d gotten lost in the hedges, but they managed to find their way.

[bosstoaster]

Wing au?

(whoops, sorry this took so long.  These are closed, everyone, but this one deserved answering)

I) Shiro has always been proud of his wings.

These days, there’s not much point to wings.  They were little more than an evolutionary leftover.  At one point, wings were useful tools for surviving in the wild, gliding away from danger more than outright flying.  Now, they stayed tucked against people’s backs, only making themselves known in fashion or when anyone accidentally bumped someone with them and had to apologize for spilling their coffee.

Shiro had a phase where he was determined to fly with them.  Nevermind that he’d been eight and they’d been little more than tufts of down.  He’d jumped off of everything he could climb up, from furniture to trees and, one one occasion, he’d nearly made it off the roof.

Eventually, the impossibility of Shiro’s dream settled in, but he never stopped wanting to fly, and he never stopped loving his wings.  They were a sleek black, shiny and resilient, and Shiro kept them well exercised when most people let the muscles atrophy.  While he still couldn’t fly, he could create a gust of wind strong enough to make most anyone stumble, and he’d won more than one stupid teenage dare about gliding distance.

Still, if his wings couldn’t get him airborne, Shiro was going to find a way.

II) The Galaxy Garrison was that way

(Read More Below)

Shiro found the same feeling of thrill in flying a machine that had ignited his young imagination.  It wasn’t quite the same, but it was the closest Shiro could get.  He could soar in simulations, could part clouds with the wings of his plane.  Could look down and see the world, so small below him it was like toys.  Like the rest of his life was playing along, and this was reality.

The Galaxy Garrison was where Shiro could finally spread his wings, physically and metaphorically.  It was where he meet like-minded people, who looked up at the night sky and thought I belong there.  It was where he met Keith, whose drive to touch the sky might have been greater than Shiro’s own - or he was simply less reserved about chasing it.

Shiro pushed forward, fought for opportunity, excelled.

Shiro learned how to fly.  And like his eight-year-old self had always believed, he was good at it.

Looking up at the huge stretch of the night sky, Shiro fell back against the roof, his wings as extended as they would go.  Sitting next to him, Keith absently flapped his own wings, brown and clay-red like the desert that surrounded them.

“I’m going to apply,” Shiro decided, still looking up.  He could easily pick out Mars and Venus in the night sky, but what he wanted was farther than that.  Much, much farther.

Keith hummed, unsurprised.  “That’s a long time to have to keep your wings tucked,” he pointed out, eyeing where Shiro was taking up half the roof with his wingspan.

Rolling his eyes, Shiro sat up and flattened them to his back.  The primaries trailed against the wood of the shack’s roof, sending a shiver through him.  “I’ll manage.  It’ll be worth it.  Kerberos, Keith.  The first people to the edge of the solar system.  I have to try.”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed.  “I would too.”  He curled his legs up to his chest, one wing splaying out toward Shiro.  The reddish tips just brushed against the center of Shiro’s back, over where his wings were tucked tight.  “I’ll miss you, you know.”

Shiro laughed softly.  “Getting ahead of yourself.  I’m barely graduated.  Who knows if they’ll want me even applying.”

“That won’t stop you,” Keith replied.  “And they will.  There’s no one better.”

Keith might have been competition, but he was too young yet, still two years out from graduation.

“Seniority matters,” Shiro reminded him, eyes closed.  When Keith’s feathers brushed his own, Shiro pushed his wings back, like a cat leaning into petting.  Feather to feather contact was okay with Keith, especially when he started it.  Skin to skin was a different story.

Rolling his shoulders, Keith glanced back at the cluster of lights on the horizon that was the Garrison.  “Then the brass are idiots.”

No arguments there.  Shiro still smiled, charmed at Keith’s defense.

Finally, he spread his wings further, using his longer wingspan to wrap around Keith’s shoulders like a blanket.  “I’ll miss you too.”

Keith’s smile was bright, for the second before he hid it in his knees.

III) The months-long journey to Kerberos was painful

Shiro had lived in apartments and condos for most of his life.  He’d spend hours in class with his wings shivering and twitching, trying to keep them in as small a space as he could.  But he’d never gone longer than a few days without getting the chance to fully stretch out and flap, if only for a minute or two.

The Daedalus was simply too small to allow that kind of movement.  Even when Shiro wasn’t wearing his bulky suit that covered his wings completely, he could only get about half-open before he was in danger of hitting equipment.

It didn’t seem to bother either of his teammates nearly so much.  Commander Holt reminded him to keep up his exercises, which were supposed to help keep his muscles from atrophying.  He kept his own up every day, but didn’t seem to have the same constant itch to flap that Shiro struggled with.

Matt was even worse.  He barely cared, laughing at Shiro’s mounting frustration.  “You can fly in zero grav back at the Garrison,” he reminded Shiro fondly.  “You need to do it here, too?”

“You don’t feel trapped?”  Shiro had never been claustrophobic, or else he’d never have survived training.  Cockpits tended to be small, especially with anyone with a larger wingspan.

Considering, Matt shrugged one shoulder.  “Yeah, kind of.  I miss going on runs.  But I don’t mind keeping my wings tucked.  I usually keep them there anyway.”

Baffling, but not unexpected.  Most people were that way.  Shiro just didn’t understand how.

When they finally landed on Kerberos and set up the equipment, Shiro closed his eyes and imagined being able to spread his wings.  To hang on the edge of this planet, tips of his feathers as far apart as they could go.  Imagining taking a running leap and pushing off, using the lack of gravity to glide into the stars, momentum going on forever.

Letting go of the childish fantasy with a sigh, Shiro opened his eyes.

And saw a ship above them.

A ship that wasn’t one he recognized.

“Run!”

IV) Shiro has never needed it, but the wings had another benefit: Combat

Gripping the blade in his hands, Shiro’s breath came in short, desperate gasps.  That was two, so this was-

There was a vicious hum as Myzax’s weapon burst toward him, slamming through the rock pillar and throwing up a cloud of dust.

Three.

Ducking around from his cover, Shiro kept his wings tucked, streamlined as possible as he tried to gain ground.  Myzax held out his staff, taking back the ball, which hummed and stayed in place, recharging from the last volley.

That didn’t make his opponent less dangerous.  That didn’t make Shiro closer in size to the monster in front of him.

But he had one trick that Myxaz didn’t.

Right before he got into striking range, Shiro crouched, then snapped his wings out and flapped. At the same moment, he sprang up, getting more height than he had any other time in the fight.

Myzax’s head started to pull up, following the fast move too late.

Shiro was already bringing the blade down, slicing over his face and sending the monster crashing to the ground.  His wings stayed out, giving him a soft landing, and Shiro was able to kick the energy weapon away and hold out his blade in clear threat.

There was a long pause.

Then, the audience erupted into screams and roars, losing their minds.

Shiro had won.  Shiro had won.

And he continued to win. Even when his feathers dulled and failed to grow back, even when stark white lines of scars crossed the flesh, even when his face was sliced open and blood drenched his face and neck.

But once, his armored, sworded opponent was faster than Shiro expected, more devastating with his attacks.  He fought like Shiro, the battle itself a show, the killing blows swift and nearly merciful.

Shiro still won, but the opponent got him in the back, stabbing in and twisting, cracking the fragile bone.

Shiro still won, but his arm hung from tatters of muscle.

Shiro still won, but he collapsed to the dirt floor, bleeding out quickly.

Staring up at the bright lights and listening to the cheers and screams fading, Shiro thought this is how I die.

Until the very bottom of a robe brushed what was left of his wings,and a clawed hand grabbed him by the jaw.

One look at Haggar’s smile told Shiro he would not die today.  But he would want to.

V) Haggar took his wings

Staring in the mirror of Keith’s little shack, Shiro’s stomach flipped.  

He didn’t recognize the man in the mirror.

The deep scar cut over his nose, merely the most visible with his clothes on.  It lengthened his face, aged him, making Shiro wonder just how long he’d been gone.  White bangs fell into his face, brushed back by metal fingers.

And his wings.

His wings were just as mechanical as his left hand.  No longer black and glossy, they were the same silver and dark grey material as the other prosthetic.  Where they’d been one streamlined piece, now there were fewer feathers, jagged and shining.  These weren’t for flying.  They were weapons.

These weren’t his wings.  These weren’t the tufts of down he’d grown up with, that he’d glided with as a teenager, that he’d learned to spread and tuck by turns at the Garrison.  This was like having living swords strapped to his back, a sick mockery.

Stumbling out into the light of dawn, Shiro clutched his metal wrist and stared out, watching the shadows of his false wings grow over the sand.

“It’s good to have you back,” Keith murmured later, when he found Shiro staring.

“It’s good to be back,” he replied, but it was numb.  Shiro wasn’t back.  Not really.  Only pieces of him.  His wings were gone.

Keith swallowed, his clay-red wings brushing over the metal.  Shiro could see it, but he couldn’t feel it.  He ached for that contact, the kind Keith would always allow, but that he could never offer again.

“We need to talk,” Keith said.  “Come back inside.”

In a daze, Shiro followed.

The false-wings tucked against his back, far more comfortable there than the real ones had ever been.  

Shiro had no desire to spread these.

Bonus)

The Black Lion had wings.

Shiro had noticed, idly, the difference in design when Allura had shown them the holograms.  But it didn’t register until this moment.

The Black Lion had metal wings, each of the shining primaries long spread wide.  They were red where Shiro’s were black, but otherwise so similar.  The same in the ways that mattered.

Stepping forward, ringed from behind by the other four lions, Shiro’s heart reached out, and felt another’s meet him there.

The Black Lion roared in greeting.

Shiro spread his wings for the first time since waking up.

It was time for them to fly.

[outtacommission]

anon said: YESS MATT IS HERE AND I'M GIDDY AND HAPPY but as for a prompt what if when Pidge found him in that place he was in, he was actually pretty sick? So she has to defend him or help him get better or just keep him from getting worse while she takes him back to the castle?

words: 4.5k

i actually hate this but it got so long and i finally cut it off so i’m gonna post it. i’m so sorry i go so long without posting fic and when i finally do it’s this shit, but i hope you enjoy regardless. i loved the prompt! the fic just...didn’t happen the way i wanted it to. ah, well. 

EDIT: here’s the Ao3 link in case anyone prefers that!

“This must be some kind of spy facility,” Pidge mutters, eyes taking in the geometric patterns and fluctuating levels of an unfamiliar orange-tinted screen.

There isn’t any more time to decipher what the data could mean, though, as pounding footsteps suddenly approach and a masked figure reflected in the screen flings itself directly towards her.

With a gasp of surprise, Pidge rolls away just in time to dodge a spinning staff that the figure swipes at her. She’s on her feet again in less than a second, sprinting for a column and launching herself backwards off of it with a boost from her jetpack. She’s aware of her pursuer coming after her again, swinging the staff with skill, but they seem…a bit slow. She should be able to take care of them without much trouble.

As she descends to the floor and the figure spins to face her, she throws out her whip. Her enemy blocks it with their staff, wrapping the cord around it and pulling her to the ground. They charge again, stabbing the butt of their weapon straight down at her chest, and with more force she’s sure it would have been a powerful move. But their movements seem strangely sluggish and weak, like they don’t have enough energy to put the force needed behind them to make them especially threatening. Maybe she caught them while they’re tired.

She rolls away again and the figure towers over her, raising the staff above their head with two hands. Pidge is sure she sees their arms shaking.

“What have you done with my brother?!” she yells.

They hesitate at the question. Pidge doesn’t think; she takes advantage of the moment and flings her whip at the masked head, hitting them squarely in the face and earning a pained grunt. The mask goes flying and the person falls to their knees. Bayard reverting to the katar, she launches herself at them again, aiming a powerful swing directly at the head.

And then they turn, and Pidge sees their face for the first time.

Matt.

Somehow she stops her momentum. Somehow the sight of wide, familiar eyes freezes her in place.

It’s… It’s Matt.

It doesn’t seem real. For so long, years, she’s dreamed of seeing his face again. And now it’s…he’s right in front of her and it doesn’t seem real. Honey brown eyes, pale skin marred by a long, thin scar, wheat-colored hair that’s longer and limper than she remembers but it’s still… Oh, god, it’s him.

It’s him. He’s alive, he’s here. I found him.

He’s looking at her with an expression that probably mirrors her own. Eyes wide, mouth agape, chest heaving with labored breaths, disbelief coloring every feature.

“Pidge…?” he whispers hoarsely, like he hardly dares to believe it.

“Matt?” she echoes.

He stands, slowly and with difficulty, stumbling a bit, and she can’t take her eyes off of him. Likewise, he doesn’t seem to be able to look away from her, either. For a few long moments, she stares at him and he stares right back.

And then it’s like they reach the same conclusion at the same time. His face crumples with emotion as tears gather in her own eyes, and they’re falling into each other’s arms.

Pidge weeps. He’s warm and solid beneath her arms, tangible and real and so very alive. His ribcage hitches with sobs and any minute she expects to wake up and find this is a dream. She’s had this dream so many times. But she’s never been able to feel this much, to touch the gritty fabric of his clothes or smell the sweat and faint mustiness emanating from him. His voice has never been this clear and perfect.

She found him. He’s here. He’s here.

She squeezes her eyes shut and tears pour down her cheeks in rivulets. “Oh my gosh,” she gasps. “Ever since the Kerberos mission… They said you were dead, but I knew in my heart that you weren’t.”

His arms tighten around her shoulder. “I can’t believe you found me,” he says, and his voice is the most wonderful thing she’s ever heard. “It doesn’t seem possible.”

He pulls back then, hands coming up to touch the sides of her helmet. He smiles—he smiles—the brightest, sweetest smile she’s ever seen, even as his own tears pour down his face.

She can’t help but return it. “The thought of you and Dad kept me going, inspired me to do the impossible.”

“Okay,” he says with a bit of a laugh, hands moving down to her shoulders. “But seriously, how’d you’d get this far into space?”

“It’s a long story,” she says, ducking her head. She opens her mouth to say more, but then Matt coughs.

And he keeps coughing. It seems like he’s trying to suppress them, but they still sound wet and painful. A hand comes up to cover his mouth and his face screws up as if he’s in pain, and he begins to sink to the floor.

“Matt?” Pidge braces her hands on his shoulders and tries to support him as they both kneel on the ground.

The coughing passes after a few more moments and suddenly he looks so tired—exhausted. And she realizes now that those slow, sluggish movements she’d noticed (and planned to take advantage of) during the brief fight were Matt’s slow, sluggish movements. And that’s…probably not normal.

Something is wrong with him.

She hadn’t noticed before, but now that the rush of disbelief and overwhelming joy from their reunion is wearing off, it’s obvious just how not okay her brother is. His eyes are bloodshot and glazed over, ringed with deep fatigue. His entire expression is a bit dazed, and now that she’s really looking, his cheeks seem too flushed. He looks pretty terrible.

And he’s shaking. Full-body, head-to-toe trembling.

Concern quickly begins to override the multitude of other emotions currently filling her. “Matt? Are you okay?”

For a moment, he looks surprised at the question. “Huh?” Then, slowly, he lifts a hand up and stares as it trembles, like he’ll find the answer in his open palm. “Oh. I’m…” Another cough rips through him and he rubs at his eyes. “I’m just a little under the weather right now. I’m okay, though, don’t worry.”

Pidge’s brows draw together. She reaches up to move his bangs aside and can feel unnatural heat through the fabric. “Oh, you’re burning up,” she says, cupping his face in both hands.

She’s pulling up her wrist monitor, intending to scan him for viruses, but he stops her with one hand. “I think it’s Ryskan fever.” His voice is so ragged, so weary. “It’ll suck for a little while, but it’s not dangerous.”

“Are you sure?” She searches his face intently for evidence of the contrary.

“Yeah.” He smiles, but it isn’t particularly reassuring.  

“What a touching reunion,” a deep, gravelly voice says from the shadows.

Pidge and Matt both jump and spin to face the direction it came from, nerves suddenly alight.

“Who are you?” Pidge demands, summoning her bayard from her armor.

There’s a dark, menacing figure shrouded in the darkness of the tall room. While Pidge can’t decipher any features, he’s obviously big and most likely powerful. She’s not intimidated. She can’t afford to be now—Matt is here, and he needs her protection.

“Who I am is not important,” the stranger says. “I am here to collect the bounty on your brother Matt. But a paladin of Voltron and the Green Lion? What a day.”

Pidge drops into a fighting stance. “Stand back, Matt.”

But Matt, once again, mirrors her perfectly, readying his staff and saying, “Stand back, Pidge,” at the exact same moment.

She looks at him in surprise for a mere second before hardening her gaze into a glare. “No, I’ll take care of this. Get somewhere safe.”

He blinks. “But—”

“It’s not up for debate!” she yells. “You’re in no condition to fight right now, so let me handle this! I’ll be fine, trust me.”

He must see the resolve in her eyes—either that or he must be really be feeling awful, because after a brief hesitation, he nods reluctantly and lowers his staff. God, he looks so tired.

Her focus is ripped away from him quickly as the bounty hunter growls and charges forward, flinging off his cloak to reveal a muscled, reptilian body and two whips sparking with purple electricity.  

Pidge activates her jetpack and leaps into the air as the weapons come slinging towards her. She immediately slings her own bayard back towards him, but he narrowly dodges it. She’s hoping this will be a quick fight, but this guy looks tough, and he wields those whips with enough skill for her to know he’s had a lot of practice. She’s going to have to think her way around this one.

As she descends back to the ground, bolts of agony suddenly light up every nerve and her body convulses. She screams without meaning to, and gravity slams her to the ground as her jetpacks gives out.

For a moment, she can’t get up. Her muscles ache and twitch with the residual electricity and it takes a while before she can push herself up on trembling arms. She grunts with frustration; she has to get up, has to protect Matt. He’s weak and vulnerable and—

“Stay away from my sister!”

She freezes. Oh, please don’t tell me…

When she looks over her shoulder and sees a cloaked figure stumbling towards the bounty hunter, dread fills her stomach. “Matt, stop!”

But of course he doesn’t. He charges right in like he doesn’t care what happens to him. He probably doesn’t. He’s probably in the same mindset she is—to protect family at all costs.

As he swings his staff down, the hunter spins his whips effortlessly to create a shield, and Matt’s weapon glances right off. “You’re both worth more to me alive, but I’ll take something over nothing,” he growls.

The whips come up again and he flings them forward with impressive strength. Pidge watches in horror as they both wrap around Matt’s shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides, and electricity courses through his thin body like lightning.

Pidge won’t soon forget the scream that comes from his mouth.

With a growl, she finally gets to her feet and shoots her bayard at the lizard-like alien with renewed strength. Matt’s down; she can see his limp body on the floor in the corner of her eye, and this time, she won’t let this guy have another chance to touch him.

Her bayard lodges itself exactly where she wanted it to—in a beam on the other side of the room. As the alien turns to smirk at her for what he probably thinks is a mistake on her part, she uses the grappling line to propel herself at him feet-first. She lands a solid kick to his head, and swings herself up onto a low beam.

He takes a moment to recover, and growls again. “You’ll have to do better than that!” His whip wraps around a beam and suddenly he’s joining her in the rafters. He charges her again, and it quickly becomes apparent just how much stronger he is. She’s agile enough that she’s not overpowered, but his blows are too forceful for her to withstand much of.

One particularly powerful flick of his whips sends her toppling off of the beam, plummeting to the ground below. She’s able to activate her jetpack and prevent the impact, but the bounty hunter is right on her tail. She sprints away from him, mind racing frantically for a solution to this battle. She can’t overpower him, but maybe there’s some way his electric whips can be used against him.

As if reading her mind, Matt’s raspy voice suddenly calls out, “Pidge! The panel!”

She knows what he’s talking about immediately. Without even blinking, she reaches out to rip off the cover of a panel in the wall as she passes it. And no sooner has she removed it than the hunter’s whip comes lashing out and snags on the uncovered machinery.

“What?!” he roars, yanking on it unsuccessfully.

“Hey!” Matt yells from the other side of the room.

Once again, Pidge can only watch helplessly as her brother comes running right into the fight. She doesn’t have time to react before the alien is flinging his free whip at him. He’s able to duck out of the way, and the whip wraps itself around a metal pillar instead. He jams his staff into the ground, pulls it back with strength Pidge didn’t think he still possessed, and lets it go. It collides with the line of the whip, and the bounty hunter yells as he’s electrocuted, crackling bolts jumping over his body.

Pidge seizes the moment. She hurls herself at him, pulls back her bayard, and throws the hardest punch of her life. It’s enough force to send the hunter flying back, and he lands on the ground, unconscious.

She doesn’t move from her position for a few moments, just stands and tries to catch her breath.

It’s over. They’re safe, for the moment.

And then Matt groans, staggers, and falls to his knees.

“Matt!” Pidge grabs his shoulders to stabilize him before he slumps over. “Are you okay?”

He coughs harshly, a wet crackling sounding in his lungs, and pushes his knuckles into his eyes again. “…Relatively.”

She glowers. “I told you to stay out of the fight. You said you’d stay out of it.”

“You were in trouble. He hurt you; I couldn’t stand by and watch.”

Pidge opens her mouth to scold him again for scaring her, for acting so recklessly when they’d only just found each other after so long, but something stops her. She isn’t in a place to berate him for this, because she would have done exactly the same thing in his position. Plus, there are more important things to worry about right now.

“You haven’t changed,” she says. “You’re still an idiot.”

Matt laughs a little, which then turns into another bout of coughing. He doubles over and presses a hand to his chest, groaning. “You might have a point.”

Pidge frowns. “We need to get you out of here.” She pulls his arm over her shoulders and they stand slowly.

Matt sways. “I can’t just—I can’t just leave. I have a job here.”

“Are you nuts? You can’t work right now, Matt. You’re coming with me.”

He doesn’t protest any further as she leads him out, and she doesn’t know if it’s because he knows she’s right or if he’s just too out of it to say anything more.

He leans on her heavily as they make their way to the exit, and though he’s wearing what seems to be several layers of clothes, she swears she can feel the heat of his fever through them. A glance at his face shows that he’s sweating a lot, too.

A strange mix of emotions swirl within her. She’s still stunned that she’s found him—after almost two years of vague leads and dead ends and tracking and decoding and what felt like endless searching, it’s actually all paid off. She’s sure she’ll spend a long time just staring at him, ensuring that he’s actually still here.

Then there’s the fear that stems out of that disbelief. He’s here, but for how long? He said his illness isn’t serious, but his appearance says otherwise. Memories of being four years old and taking midnight trips to the hospital because Matt had gotten violently and unexpectedly sick flash through her mind, even though she hasn’t thought about those times in years. He hadn’t exactly been the healthiest boy when they were children, and although his immune system is up to par now, Pidge can’t help the dread that chills her breast at seeing him like this, especially after they’ve been separated for so long.

But there’s relief and determination, too. Matt is with her now. She can take care of him. She can make sure he’s okay. And that’s exactly what she’s going to do.

—

He’s quiet on the trip back in the Green Lion. He’d ogled a little bit when she’d first brought him to where it was parked on the outskirts of town (cloaked, of course), but nowhere near as much as he would have if his brain wasn’t fogged up by fever. She resolves to show him around it properly when he’s well. For now, she mostly just listens to him cough from his spot on the floor near the accelerator chair.

When the Lion lands and the hatch opens, the team converges around the entrance with hopeful smiles on their faces. She’s glad to be back with them, and gladder still that, this time, she can give them good news.

Well, not quite as good as she hoped. Matt’s condition is inexplicably deteriorating at a concerning pace, though Pidge suspects it has something to do with the fact that he obviously overexerted himself in the fight on top of getting electrocuted. He’s slumped against the wall, shivering in his cloak. Sweat dots his brow and a look of discomfort mars his face.

“Matt,” Pidge prompts softly. “We’re here. Wake up.”

His brow furrows, but he doesn’t open his eyes. “Huh…?”

“We’re at the Castle of Lions. Let’s get you in bed, okay? Can you stand?”

He blinks heavily several times before her words seem to register. “Ah, yeah.” Then he pulls in a sharp breath and presses his palms into his eyes.

Panic rolls through Pidge’s stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“My eyes.”

“Your eyes?”

“Hurt.”

She pulls his hands away from his face. “Open them?”

He squints through a heavy grimace and she can just barely see how red and irritated they look, even more so than before.

Her anxiety ramps up another few notches. “We need to get to the infirmary, now.”

It takes several tries, but she helps Matt rise slowly from the floor and steadies him with an arm around his waist. He coughs violently as they make their way down the ramp, entire body hitching with the force. He sags against her bonelessly and it takes considerable effort on her part to keep him upright.

Everyone is waiting when they finally emerge. The mice run to greet her but she’s regrettably too preoccupied to greet them back. She gives her team a sad smile. “Hey, everybody.”

The sight of her practically carrying an unfamiliar body out of her Lion predictably makes them all pull up short with surprise. Their smiles disappear and are replaced with alarm.

“Pidge? Who is this?” Allura asks.

“My brother. Matt.” She adjusts her grip on him as he slips a little further. She’s too small for this. “Look, I’ll explain everything later, but he needs help.”

Towards the back of the group, there’s a soft murmured, “Matt?” and then Shiro is pushing his way past Allura and Coran, a look of hope and concern on his face. He hesitates only a second before rushing to them and pulling Matt’s weight from her, effortlessly scooping him into his arms. He studies Matt’s face briefly before turning his worried gaze to Pidge. “You found him.”  

She nods.

Shiro looks like he’s struggling to believe it, to come to terms with the fact that he’s holding his long-lost friend in his arms, but it’s not a moment before his mouth forms a straight, determined line. “Let’s get to the infirmary.”

—

No one asks for the story until Matt’s settled in a bed and his vitals are being monitored.

“It does appear to be Ryskan fever,” Coran muses as his eyes scan the data.

“What is that?” Shiro asks, deep concern on his features. “Is it dangerous?”

“Not particularly, no.” He flicks through a few screens. “It’s a fairly common disease that manifests slightly differently in varying species. Unfortunately, from Matt’s case it seems to be more severe in human beings, but this is the first time I’ve seen it afflict one. It’s similar in Alteans, though not usually quite this debilitating—annoying, more than anything. But he’s displaying the same symptoms. It will probably take a while to recover from, but in a couple Spicolian movements he should be over the worst of it. Luckily, we have some medicine for it that can be administered through an injection.”

Pidge releases a long, noisy breath.

Coran gives her a reassuring smile. “He’s going to be just fine, with a lot of rest. Don’t you worry.”

“Thanks, Coran.”

They move away from the bed, and she tells them what happened at the rebel base. She doesn’t mention the graveyard—yet, anyway. It’s probably information they’ll want to know at some point, but her emotions are still raw and that’s really not something she wants to revisit at the moment. Especially not with Matt lying unconscious in the infirmary. For now, she recounts the fight with the bounty hunter and all she’s learned about the freedom fighters. The rest can come after Matt’s recovered.

“You did a great job, Pidge,” Shiro says. “I’m proud of you.”

She nods. “I’ll feel better about it once he’s better.”

“Me too.” There’s a vague wistfulness to Shiro’s face and voice, enough to make Pidge wonder what he’s thinking about.

They haven’t talked about Matt a lot together—she knows Shiro’s missed him, but now she’s wondering exactly how close they’d been before the abduction. He seems more shaken up about seeing her brother again than she would have expected.

“Pidge?” Hunk says cheerily. “Are you hungry? I was about to start dinner before you got here.”

She smiles softly. “Thanks, Hunk. But I think I’m gonna stay here for a little while.”

“I’ll bring you something, then,” he says with a light pat on her shoulder.

“Let us know if anything happens,” Lance says, more solemn than usual, before following Hunk out the door.

“Coran and I had better get the castle ready to move again, now that we’re finishing up here,” Allura says.

“Right,” Coran adds. “But I’ll be back here in a tick if you need me for any reason at all. Okay?”

“Okay.” Pidge gives him a smile too. “Thanks.”

Once they’re gone, she’s alone with only Shiro and her comatose brother. She releases a heavy sigh and sinks down in a chair next to Matt’s cot, suddenly extremely tired.

“Are you alright?” Shiro asks in his fatherly tone.

“Yeah. Just exhausted.”

“I think you should try to get some rest. Matt will be okay for a while.”

She shakes her head emphatically. Leaving Matt’s side right now is absolutely unthinkable. “I just got him back. I’m not going anywhere.”

Shiro huffs a breath out through his nose. “Okay. I won’t ask you to, then. But you need to take care of yourself too, alright?”

She folds her arms on the side of the bed and rests her chin on them. “Mhm.”

He briefly places a hand on her head. “I’ll come back to check on you in a little while.”

When the door slides shut behind him, Pidge’s thoughts become loud in the abrupt silence. She’s drained and weary from the rollercoaster she’d just been on, but her emotions have yet to settle. She won’t feel any kind of peace until she can talk to Matt about…well, everything. Where he’s been, what he’s been doing, if he knows anything about Sam. She wants him to know about what she’s been doing too. She wants to show him the castle, her Lion.

That will have to wait a while, though. Mostly she just wants him to get better.

For a while, she watches him sleep. He looks so much older, so worn and weary, but maybe that’s just the illness. She’d stripped him of his cloak and armor, leaving him in only the thin tunic and pants he was wearing underneath, and Coran had placed a strip of cooling fabric on his forehead to soothe the fever.

But without anyone to talk to, the exhaustion eventually overpowers the lingering onslaught of emotion. When sleep comes, she doesn’t fight it.

—

“Pidge?”

She feels warm. Secure. Doesn’t want to move.

“Pidge.”

When she feels herself begin to move out of sleep, she groans and nuzzles her face deeper into her arms. She’s not ready to wake up.

“Katie.”

That…isn’t normal. No one calls her Katie, ever. The only one who even knows that name is Shiro, and that’s definitely not Shiro’s voice. That means…

Her head flies up, glasses askew on her nose. “Matt?”

He’s awake. The cooling strip is gone from his brow, and he’s looking at her through groggy eyes, heavily-lidded and still bloodshot.

Pidge leans in closer. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“I—” He breaks off into a coughing fit, his whole body straining under the force. “I’ve been better.”

She frowns and presses the back of her hand to his sweaty forehead. “I think that’s an understatement. You’re still burning.”

He falls back against the pillow with a groan. “S’alright, this…this doesn’t last long. I knew a guy who had it once and it didn’t…last long.”

“Uh…about that.” When Matt looks at her curiously, she averts her gaze. “Coran—our advisor—says it looks like Ryskan fever is more severe in humans compared to other species. He says it’s likely that it’ll take you a while to get over it.”

Confusion spreads over Matt’s face for a second before he closes his eyes and sighs wearily. “Figures.”

“But you’ll be okay,” she’s quick to add, taking his hand. “You’re with us now. I’m here. I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Yeah.” He smiles shakily. “I’m so…so happy to see you, Pidge.”

That wave of emotions swells in her throat again and she desperately tries not to tear up. “I’m happy to see you too. You have no idea. I’ve been searching for you for so long.”

He makes a happy noise. “You always could be stubborn when you wanted t’be.”

She laughs. “Now we just gotta find Dad.”

“Right.” Matt closes his eyes again, looking ready to fall back asleep. Pidge is prepared to let him, maybe go see about the dinner Hunk mentioned, but a second later Matt’s eyes reopen. “Hey…am I delusional or…or was Shiro here earlier?”

Pidge grins. “Yeah, that was real. He’s here.”

Now the confusion’s back. “Wh…why? Why’s he here…?”

“He’s a paladin of Voltron, too. He’s worried about you.”

“Oh…”

“I’ll tell you all about it when you’re better.” She pats his shoulder. “For now, get some sleep.”

Matt’s eyes are closed once more. “Mhm.”

“I love you, Matt.”

He’s already asleep.

She’ll tell him again when he’s coherent. She’ll tell him over and over and over. For now, she bends over and presses a kiss to his forehead, then finally leaves in search of a much needed dinner.

[ptw30]

Did we ever get a Keith meets Hunk & Pidge ficlet for Blade!Shiro? I know there was an interlude of Keith and Lance on the Garrison roof that left me wanting that first meeting. Did they know Lance was an alien? About Voltron? So many questions xD

Little background on this - I didn’t write a meeting between Keith, Hunk, and Pidge because it would have followed a similar storyline from “The Rise of Voltron.” It didn’t forward the plot of Blade!Shiro in the same way Lance and Keith’s scenedid.

In order tomake this side story a bit more engaging, I took a few liberties. In the Blade!Shiro interlude,I wrote that Lance had already met Blue - saw her, sat in her, had sleepoversin her cockpit, more or less - but in order for Hunk and Pidge to do something other thanshake hands and gape at Galra!Keith, I decided to make the literal “I met Blue”into “Hey, I met Blue in a metaphysical way like Shiro met Black on the astralplane.”

I think that also adds a bit of depth to the lions and paladin bond, which I really like. (And then Shiro isn’t the only paladin to get metaphysical hugs from his lion. :DDDDDDDDDDDDDD) So thanks for this prompt! 

A part of the Blade!Shiro series. 

Pidge hadbeen staked out on the top of Galaxy Garrison’s main building, surrounded byher homemade gear, for months, scanning to the far edges of the universe forthe lost Kerberos mission crew. She hadn’t wanted to give up the search, evenfor one night, but Lance lured her to the hanger with the promise of helpingher find the crew. He hadn’t lied. Keith would help her find her family. Lancewas sure of it.

Dirt kickedup behind the hoverbike as they skimmed over the desert floor and soaredthrough the hollowed canyon. The cool air burned Lance’s cheeks red, but hepersisted, thankful that both Pidge and Hunk wore long-sleeved shirts. Perhapshe should have been warned them, but there hadn’t been time.

As heentered some invisible radius, warmth kindled in his chest once more, familiarand kind and fierce, and Lance let out the tiny breath he hadn’t known he’dbeen holding. Behind him, he heard both Pidge and Hunk gasp as the sensationhit them, too, but unlike him, they weren’t prepared for another piece of theirfractured souls to snap into place.

When hepulled up to the shack, Pidge wondered out loud, “What was that?”

“Keith.” Lanceallowed that to serve as the only answer and slid off the bike’s seat.

“Look, nooffense, Lance, you know I trust you,” Hunk began, forefingers pressed togetherin his nervous tell, “but you’ve got to give us more than that. Just who isthis Keith you keep talking about?”

“And how canhe help me find my family?” Pidge added.

Lance letout an exaggerated sigh, eyes never diverting from the glowing shack thatburned like a beacon in the still and shadowed desert. He quickly recountedKeith’s lineage and the Galra Empire, and how the Blade might be able to locateher family. Pidge’s hands balled at her side, trembling with rage.

“Are youfreakin’ kidding me? You dragged me out into the middle of nowhere with thepromise to help find the Kerberos crew and your answer is aliens? You really expect me to believe that?”

Lancesighed, helpless, but Hunk stepped in. “He’s not lying, Pidge.”

“Don’t tellyou believe him, Hunk! Aliens! I know they exist, but you can’t tell me thisKeith – ”

“ – is notthe only alien here,” Lance replied, and he closed his eyes, focusing on hiscore energy. It was harder sometimes wearing his original form now, rather thanhis rounded ears and bland skin, but eventually his markings and pointed ears,along with his ruffle of white hair, emerged.

Pidge’smouth opened, closed, and then opened again. After a few quiet moments, herscowl returned. It wasn’t focused on Lance, however.

“You knewabout this?” she yelled at Hunk.

Hunkshrugged with a slight rosy tint to his cheeks. “Well, yeah. Lance is myroommate. I one time walked in on him wearing purple fur and glowing amber eyes– which by the way, I still don’t understand why you wanted to look like alarge purple cat.”

Lance letout a strained whine as he drudged toward the shack. “Hunk, do not bring upinside.”

The shackinitially appeared empty when they entered, but Lance still felt Keith’s fierypresence. Once Hunk and Pidge stepped into the middle of the shack, the door slammed shut behind them. Keithwaited, tail lashing, amber eyes glowing, awakened sword in his palm.

“Is thisthem?” he asked, resolute.

Lance didn’teven try to suppress his eye-roll. “No. I randomly pick up strangers whohappen to complete your soul. What do you think?”

Keithblinked and straightened his back, hand slowly sheathing his knife behind hisback. “I – I think these are the other – ”

“Yes, it’sthem!”

“Why are we here?” Pidge asked without pretense. “Lance said you could help find myfamily.”

As Keithpassed between her and Hunk, his eyes flashed to Lance’s with a wordlessquestion. Lance shrugged. “Her family was taken off Kerberos not too long ago.”

“How’d –How’d you know my dad and brother were – ”

“You looklike a mini-me version of Matt Holt,” Hunk said, reaching for Keith’s lashingtail. “Seriously, how Iverson couldn’t tell is just – hey!”

Keith pulledhis tail away from where it slapped Hunk’s hand. “Do you mind?”

“You can’tfault me. You have a tail! Hey, can I scratch behind your ears?”

Keithblinked; his ear flicked before he turned to Lance, completely unnerved.

Lanceresponded with a sheepish smile and an off-handed shrug. “They come with thewhole Voltron package.”

Keith rolledhis eyes and retreated to the cork board that spread across most of the farwall. A small kitchenette, some radio equipment, a beat-up old couch, and acoffee table crowded the rest of the shack, not allowing for muchmovement. Lance still couldn’t believe Keith lived out here by himself for thelast few movements, but then again, Lance had been bringing him the essentials– water, food, clean clothes. Even now, Keith wore one of Lance’s old T-shirtsand a hoodie. Keith had to cut a hole in the back of the jeans to let his tailout, and Lance couldn’t get enough of that adorable sight.

Pidge followed Keith’s gaze, eyes running over the various photos, notes, and maps, attachedby strings, that littered the board.  

“Voltron?” sheechoed, in awe, and Lance smiled. The first time he heard the word, his lionhad thrummed his soul’s chord, too. “What – What is that?”

Lance shareda quick, knowing glance with Keith before launching into a full explanation –the universe’s greatest weapon, built by his father. Five lions, sentientbeings, each choosing a paladin. Five becoming one.

In the wakeof his words, silence reigned. The Voltron bond was fresh and still forming inways they had yet to truly understand, so Lance hadn’t expected the hesitant realizationthat came from Hunk.

“We’remissing…someone?”

Lance feltthe soul-sucking void in the middle of his chest, a place that only Shiro couldfill, but Hunk and Pidge had never met Shiro. How could they already feel it?

“My brother,Takashi,” Keith supplied.

“Shiro,” Lance replied. “He goes byShiro, and he’s the Black Paladin, the leader of Voltron.”

Pidgegripped the straps of her bookbag. “Where is he now?”

Keith’samber eyes drifted to a certain faded photo in the corner of the board. A beaming tween sat cross-legged on the floor, hugging a swaddled kitten in hisarms. Lance’s heart ached with his and Keith’s shared pain, and not for thefirst time, he missed his older sister.

Pidge, theepitome of tact. “You look nothing like each other.”

“We have the same dad, different mom.”

“Nokidding,” Hunk laughed, but Keith huffed, shoulders hunching and ears pressedback like a hissing cat.

Lance tookthe hint and stepped in between. “Look, we need your help, guys. Shiro is beingheld captive by some really nasty people, and those same people are coming forthe Blue Lion of Voltron. It’s here, on Earth.”

“My brotherused to sleepwalk to these caves,” Keith said, motioning toward a few photoswith lion carvings. “I think the Blue Lion is around there, but we have no wayto find it.”

“It calls tome.” In a burst of sparkles, Lance held a blue bayard in his hand. “It – Itsspirit talks to me all the time, but it’s especially powerful in water.” Hewouldn’t go so far as to explain how every time he stepped in a pool or theocean, a cool, soothing presence pressed against his forehead and rubbedagainst his side. He definitely wouldn’t tell them how the lion would manifest into a solid, water-based being when no one elsewas around and smile at him. “It wants me to find it.”

“And we haveto before the Galra do,” Keith added, crossing his arms.

A few slowticks past as Hunk and Pidge seemed to process everything. Lance readiedhimself to talk about what the Galra did to Altea andhis family, why he was on Earth and how he knew Keith and Shiro. He bracedhimself for the inevitable heartbreak of having to speak of the unspeakable,knowing neither Pidge nor Hunk would shun him for it, but he didn’t have to.

Hunkmotioned toward Pidge. “Well, I was reading Pidge’s diary – ”

“What!”

“Hey, wouldit hurt you to carry a candy bar? Anyway, I noticed the repeating series ofnumbers the aliens are searching for looks a lot like a Fraunhofer line.”

Of courseKeith wouldn’t understand. “Frown who?”

“It’s anumber describing the emission spectrum of an element. Only this elementdoesn’t exist on Earth. I think it might be this Voltron. I think I can build amachine to look for it, like a Voltron Geiger counter.”

Lance threwhis arms around his best friend. “Hunk, you big gassy genius!”

Sure enough,Hunk and Pidge’s device led to them through the desert terrain and into thecaves, though it wasn’t one Lance remembered from Keith’s photos. He divertedto the far wall and swiped his hand along the carvings, letting out a gasp whenthey glowed the same bright blue as his father’s magic.

“They’venever done that before,” Keith said before the ground gave way underneaththem, literally.

Sliding downa shoot, Lance landed face-first in a large puddle, Keith next to him. Anexcited energy crept up his spine and brushed against his hip and cheek, andwhen he lifted his eyes, he found himself staring into the eyes of the otherhalf of his soul.

“Blue…”

While Keithplaced his hands flush upon the particular barrier, Lance cocked his head tothe side and mused, “Hey, Beautiful. Good to see you.” A simple knock broughtthe barrier and Blue’s head down.

Lancesmirked and raced up her lowered ramp, sighing contently as finally, after allthese annuals, he took a seat in the pilot’s chair. Blue purred happily in theback of his mind, her presence washing over him like a cresting wave, and hereveled in her embrace – until the seat slid forward. Blue’s screens flared to life. The cavern came into focus throughBlue’s eyes, waterfall shimmering in the light Blue emitted, and Lance liftedhis hands to rest upon the controls.

Stay. Blue’s voice echoed in the back ofhis mind. Wait.

For what?

Paladin.

Lance foughtthe sudden pain that tore through his chest. Blue couldn’t have meant anotherpaladin for her. She’d chosen Lance, washed his bayard up on Varadero Beach forhim to take. She helped him to focus his powers, to stop bursting pipeswherever he went. She soothed him through thegrief of losing Shiro and Keith. Though he loved his Earth family with all hisheart and would always cherish them as his, he wasn’t complete without theother paladins.

“So…where dowe take this thing?”

Lancejumped, shocked to find Pidge on his right, ogling Blue’s interior consoles.Hunk stood on his left, while Keith gripped the back of the pilot’s chair.

Though ittook all his strength, Lance lifted his hands off the controls. “We can’t goyet. Blue says we’re missing something.”

“What?”Keith asked.

Lanceglanced over his shoulder. “The last piece of our souls.”

They leftBlue, who caressed Lance’s hip even as he exited her jowls. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge didn’t return to the garrison. Instead, theycamped out in Keith’s shack, sharing the couches, the chairs, blankets, and warmth.Lance changed his appearance, so he could pick up food in town. Hunk and Pidgesent him and Keith knowing looks whenever Keith wrapped his tail about Lance’swrist or thigh or waist, but Lance simply stuck out his tongue when Keithlooked away.

They joinedKeith out on the porch, Pidge huddling close when he muttered, “You guys shouldgo back to your school. I’ll be okay out here.”

Pidgereplied, equally as low, “Hey. I’ll help you find your family. Then you’ll helpme find mine.”

Keithwrapped his tail about her wrist, then, and their collective souls filled withwarmth.

A movementcame and went, and as per the cavern’s prophecy, the Paladins of New took toa high plateau overlooking the desert. There was only one word to describe whatthey felt as they stood, shoulder to shoulder, and watched a fireball cutthrough the night sky.

Whole. 

More from the Blade!Shiro series.

[ruvatia]

Anonymus asked:

Can I have a Shiro x Alien S/O (they dated on earth, met in the academy he knows she's an alien. She can have two hearts or what ever but looks Human) and her storming the Caste to find him. Kinda like Thrace and kicking their butts.

I strayed a little bit, sorry!! I need to learn to make these a little shorter, I’m so slow to write anything for you guys sorry ;;;;;

You had been the reason that the Garrison wasn’t surprised that there was a giant blue lion flying in the sky.

It was no secret to the higher-ups of the Garrison that you were not of their star, and they accepted you to their ranks simply because the person you had come here with was an important informant from outer space. Your home planet wasn’t too far from earth’s galaxy, and as one of the closest races to earth your people had decided to try and get the humans to know your people, but so far the knowledge that there was life outside of the galaxy wasn’t made public. Only a small handful of officers from the garrison were made aware of this, and an even fewer amount of scientists.

When you first had come to earth, both you and your companion had been locked up for the longest time. Your weapons and robes were taken from you and replaced by ugly prison clothes, and for their savagery you hated the humans. But after they had the information they needed, they released you and immediately got to exchanging information. At some point it was decided that you’d attend the academy that every soldier graduated from, because you wanted to learn the most of you could from this earth’s machinery and report to your travel companion to help the human race further their research about space exploration. Your original mission was to help the humans find your planet and hopefully become allies against Zarkon’s empire.

The academy is where you met Takashi Shirogane. The man that somehow managed to score a single point more than you during the entrance exams for the piloting course. Not that it mattered much since you applied for the mechanics course, but it still wounded your pride that a mere human would be better than you in something that you were one of the best at back home. And to your dismay, when came the time to assign teams you were paired up with him and another human named Matt.

As you spent time with him, before you knew it you had fallen for the man. It was simple, easy and everything just felt right. As his star’s best pilot, he had been notified about your true nature as well before he graduated and, nothing changed between the two of you. You loved him and he loved you back, that’s all that mattered.

Though while Takashi was away, your partner had died. His body had breathed its last breath on a planet that wasn’t his, and since there was no way to contact your people (You had agreed when you first arrived that no one must know about the location of your ship.) you couldn’t perform a traditional ceremony to send his soul away. The incident caused you to keep to yourself more, and knowing a year later that Takashi wasn’t coming back didn’t help you. Actually, the moment that the media declared him dead, you set off to try and find him. You were breaking your promise to your people and not helping the human race join yours halfway, but at this point you didn’t care. Zarkon’s empire could have already destroyed your home for all you knew.

Coincidentally, your disappearance timed with a certain Keith Kogane’s drop out. The two of you disappeared at the same time from the garrison radar, you looking for your ship, Keith looking into the strange energy that turned out to be the blue lion of Voltron.

You had been the reason that the Garrison wasn’t surprised that there was a giant blue lion flying in the sky, but that giant blue lion was the reason that you had to leave earth.

(｡･Д･｡)

Many planets that had been exploited by Zarkon have recently lifted their weapons in unison, and started forming alliances with each other. You would’ve lifted your voice and added to their complaints, telling them all that he stole your loved one from you but you always kept silent, just gathering information.

You’d had your fair share of encounters with the empire. You started at Kerberos and looked for hints about his whereabouts and immediately recognized the work of Zarkon’s battleships. So you spent the next months finding their prisoner holds and helping people escape from them, but you never found the one you were originally looking for.

Many times you were close to giving up; the empire was so big, and there was no guarantee that they kept him alive all this time. But there was always something that was pushing you to keep looking. You wanted to believe that he was alive somewhere and at this point you didn’t mind if he was missing a limb or two, you just wanted to see him again.

Months after you started searching, you had realized that one word was on everyone’s mouth; Voltron.

“The legendary defender managed to defeat Zarkon! Now all that’s left to do is to wait for his empire to fall apart!”

“Will it really be that simple though? I doubt the Galra will just let themselves fall this way.”

“It should be! I’ve had enough of being bossed around by the likes of them.”

Voltron. Of course, voltron! The blue lion from earth, why didn’t you think of it sooner?

Setting course for a planet that had recently been liberated by Voltron according to rumours, you finally felt something akin to hope for the first time in a long time. And by the time you arrived there, you were pleased to find that the leader of the tribe that was liberated had a communicator that could connect them to the altean princess that took care of diplomatics in the name of Voltron. Although as they were freshly liberated from the clutches of a dictator, they weren’t all for the idea of giving out Voltron’s location to a race they’d never heard of before.

“You could be in cahoots with the Galra for all we know. I’m sorry but I can’t contact them for you.”

“That’s… That’s alright. All I needed to know was that Voltron was here not too long ago. Thank you, chief.”

You said that, but wormholes were a thing that existed and it didn’t help that they had an Altean on their team, making it even harder to track them down. So instead you decided to hide around a planet that was still occupied by the Galra. Lucky you, the blue and yellow lion showed up at Puig a few days after you.

(｡･Д･｡)

After the blade of Marmora and the lions split up, you took your chance and followed the two lions back to their castle. It was hard to keep up with their speed and stay out of their radar, but you managed.

The castle didn’t look like it was about to go anywhere anytime soon, so you took your chance and left your ship to infiltrate the castle and get answers from the paladins of Voltron. It honestly probably wasn’t the best way to get what you wanted, but after months and months of base infiltrations and silent operations, you didn’t know what else to do. And hey, you could always tell them that you didn’t mean any harm. That you didn’t know any better. Surely they’re not the paladins of Voltron for nothing, they’ll understand where you’re coming from.

Probably.

You dove into the dock that the Blue lion seemed to have entered in, wondering how you were going to get in. Prying would alert the systems, so you needed a distraction that would open these doors or find another way in. And as you were thinking, you spotted from the corner of your eye the red lion leaving the castle from another dock. That explained why the castle wasn’t moving.

So you waited hours for the red lion to return. Oxygen was running low when he came back, so you had to calculate your movements very well when hiding from his view when he entered the castle. You slid in quietly and unnoticed, noticing that the particle barrier had been activated while the doors closed behind you. Just in time before they wormhole somewhere else again, nice.

As the paladin stepped out of his lion, you noticed that he was human. Or very humanoid. He seemed just a tad shy younger than you were too. He walked out of the hangar and made his way to some elevator, one that you took after him. It seemed to be the only way out of the hangar, so you didn’t have a choice. Hopefully there wouldn’t be anyone waiting wherever you would be dropped off on the ship, but…

Knowing your rotten luck, of course the destination had to be the control room.

Two pairs of eyes focused on you, noticing that it was a red-haired Altean and the red paladin that you had seen earlier.

“Sh---”

“Intruder!?” the red paladin immediately shouted, summoning a sword. “Coran, sound the alarm, check if they have friends!”

“Will do, Keith!”

Keith? The name sounded familiar.

Though you didn’t have the time to think about it, the red paladin quickly dashing towards you. You evaded his swing with swift footwork and put some distance between him and you, summoning a crossbow that was just a little bigger than your wrist. You’d summon your bow to fight back, but that would take too much time and he probably wasn’t to give you enough time to summon it.

You thought about the gun you kept behind your back, but then also remembered that you ran out of power a long time ago. Why you hadn’t thrown it away by now was a mystery to you too.

You aimed for his shoulder, but with the training that he’s had, it wasn’t too much of a chore to still be standing after taking the arrow. Not that taking him down was your intention however. It gave you enough time to summon your bow while you jumped back and aim towards the Altean’s screen. But before you could, a shot was landed on your wrist made the weapon leave your hands.

Your turned towards the entrance and saw another human, in a similar uniform than the red paladin. And judging by his colors it probably meant that he was the blue paladin. The paladin that pilots the blue lion.

The lion that left earth.

You immediately changed your focus to him, reloading your arrows on your wrist-crossbow and dashing towards him.

More shots came your way, but none made it to you. You slid across the ground over some seats and landed on the paladin, kicking his weapon away and putting your weapon between his eyes.

“Don’t move, or you’ll get an extra hole between your eyes.”

“Lance!” the red paladin shouted, stopping in his tracks as he saw his friend taken hostage. Any reckless moves and the consequences could be fatal to the brunette In his eyes, you were an enemy ready to eliminate them.

“Okay, not moving. I’m guessing you want to talk then?” the blue paladin said with a forced smile. He felt uncomfortable but didn’t dare shift under you, not knowing how you would take his action.

“I want answers to the questions I’m going to ask. If I get what I want, it’s like I wasn’t even here, I promise.”

“What do you want then?” the red paladin asked, ready to jump you. “And how can we be so sure that you’ll let Lance go if we tell you what you want?”

“I don’t break promises, and if you don’t believe that then that’s just your problem, red paladin of Voltron.”

You heard him click his tongue, and you were glad that you never removed your helmet through all of this, or else he would’ve seen you smirk back at him.

“So, I’ll get right to the point.” you said, looking down at the blue paladin below you. “Are you humans familiar with the name Takashi Shirogane?”

[autisticsheith]

Okay, so this meta/headcanon is brought to you by, “I just have a lot of feelings about Shiro and his body and his time with the Galra,” and, “Blue @shidgephobe asked me to post it on tumblr after they got to see it”

So, this post is building a lot on this meta post, but it has such a Sheith-y slant that I felt weird about adding it onto a gen post. But I need to acknowledge that meta from demenior, wrecked-anon, and bleedingfandoms, as it influenced a lot of my thoughts about Shiro’s time with the Galra and how it might’ve influenced his physique and relationship with his body

Generally speaking, I buy more into the idea that this meta brings up, where Shiro’s post-Galra/post-Champion physique wouldn’t actually be quite as beefy as fanon likes to make it out to be. Like, he’s clearly muscular and by no means scrawny, but the beefcake!Shiro idea doesn't quite mesh with the facts, to me. I don't think it's something we can call wrong either, given the way that he's drawn; it's just not how I personally interpret his body type

THAT BEING SAID: there is a pretty notable difference that can make it feel like that post’s MMA fighter comparison feel like it’s kinda missing something about just how much his body changed?

Which, before I go on, is…… well, two things of relevance to Keith: 1. assuming he had Shiro’s old clothes for personal intimacy reasons (whether because they were romantically together pre-Kerberos or because they weren’t dating but were close enough for Keith to keep Shiro’s personal effects for him, or possibly steal them back from the Garrison), this probably kinda explains why everybody else has clothes that fit comfortably while Shiro’s look like they were painted on

I mean, Shiro hasn’t seen those clothes in at least 15 to 18 months (because the first episode starts a year after he, Matt, and Papa Holt are taken by the Galra, and it takes a few months to get out to Kerberos on top of that), and he’s spent the majority of that time as the Champion and then as the Druids’ favorite new guinea pig, getting noticeably bigger and more muscular in the process. So, it makes sense that clothes which fit him more comfortably before he went on the Kerberos mission would be passable but tight on him, afterward;

and 2. yes, any scars Shiro acquired as the Champion are definitely of interest too, but like…… what about Keith trying to get familiar with Shiro’s body again, just on the level of remembering how he used to look, possibly what being with him used to feel like, etc., and trying not to compare Shiro-of-now to how he used to be (because Keith’s so grateful that he’s alive and here at all, and Keith also doesn’t want Shiro to devalue himself or get feeling like Keith preferred how he looked before)

—but on the other hand, having trouble not doing that to some extent, because yeah, Shiro was fit before his time with the Galra, but he wasn’t quite so hard, physically (which Keith doesn't want to make sound bad, because he’d rather have a Shiro to sleep next to than not, but putting his head on Shiro’s chest used to feel a lot cozier, and he thought that maybe, Shiro would ease up on himself and get back there, but that hasn’t happened and with how seriously [to the point of it being kind of self-damaging] Shiro takes being a Defender of the Universe, Keith’s not holding his breath).

And yeah, he worked out regularly before the Kerberos mission, but he also let himself relax more often, and while he was lean and toned, he still had some kind of discernible body fat

(—which Keith doesn't really want to bring up, because he's not sure he knows how to say it without sounding cruel, but he's getting Concerned over here? Not that he can really talk, since he's pretty lean himself and he is well aware of that, but so much of how Shiro's body is now makes Keith worry about him, and the relative lack of body fat is one of the things Keith keeps coming back to when he worries)

And yeah, Shiro's beautiful to Keith no matter what, and he really can't stress enough how much it means to him that Shiro is alive, and he's here, and Keith has him back

(—but he’s seriously getting worried that Something Less Obvious isn’t okay about Shiro and hasn’t been since he got back, and it’s not as easy to pinpoint and identify as A Thing That Exists And Is Not Right In The First Place as, say, Shiro’s flashbacks and his nightmares, and Keith is just…… so at a loss for any ideas of what to do about any of this).

But back on the more general topic…… I actually put together shots for the sake of comparison. Because this seemed like a good use of my time, and I wanted to. And because tumblr resizes things, you can find the full resolutions over on imgur.

First up isn’t my comparison shot, and it does show visible differences between pre-Kerberos/pre-Champion Shiro and Shiro when he gets back to Earth, but my big issue with it is that it doesn’t try to compare similar shots/angles so much as it contrasts two images that are incredibly different for multiple reasons, not just because Shiro’s body has changed.

Next up, just some overview shots of Shiro before he became the Champion (with one from when he, Matt, and Papa Holt were captured, and the rest from either when Shiro was fighting the Myzax or when he was trying to get Matt out of the arena so Matt wouldn’t die)

vs. different shots of how his body looks throughout the first episode

Then getting into more specific shots, Shiro’s face doesn’t always make the difference obvious, and it can be difficult to tell the difference with his waist when the angles aren’t always comparable

But when you do get shots that you can compare more easily (from his capture on the left, and from Ulaz breaking him out on the right), his face does look different for more reasons than the scar (though I’m also going, “Okay, but maybe he looks heavier there because we’re looking at his face from a different angle; it’s close enough for government work but it’s not exactly the same”)

Next, it’s not always easy to tell how Shiro’s body changed when we look at his torso, because there aren’t very many straight-on shots of it from before he became the Champion, but even with the forced perspective we get with Matt up front, we can tell that Shiro isn’t exactly small beforehand.

Plus, the way the Galra slave outfit fits might also help make him look smaller, while his outfit after the fact being so tight makes him look bigger

But even accounting for forced perspective (and Matt being in the way) here, when you look at details like how Shiro’s chest and arms look next to each other, and how much his upper arms crowd in on the rest of his chest, it does look like he’s gained weight and specifically muscle (like the meta above says, it probably would’ve been difficult for Shiro to really bulk up during his year as the Champion)

Like, unless the Druids started dosing him with quintessence steroids or something, he would get strong and there could (and I would say is) a discernible difference between how he looked before vs. now, but he wouldn’t really get huge and beefy (especially given that he’s ungodly tall, I mean? He’s also shorter than Sendak and Zarkon, if they were here, but on this comparison chart, he’s literally only shorter than Zethrid and Lotor)

Exactly how tall Shiro is comes down to headcanon (my headcanon is 6’3”, but that has less to do with actual consideration and more to do with, “6’3” is one of my favorite heights for fictional guys, thanks to a lot of early exposure to shoujo anime and manga where all my favorite bishie sparkle love interest boys were 6’3”, like Kashino Rei from MARS [and I misremembered Mamoru from BSSM as 6’3” because he was always standing next to 4’11” Usagi]”) — but, yeah. Shiro would still probably not end up super-bulky from his time with the Galra

Except then you have the issue of his biceps, which are probably the biggest, most visible difference between pre-Champion Shiro and Shiro when he gets back to Earth, and really do lend themselves to the idea that Shiro got super-beefy as the Champion

Again, there are some issues of angle and perspective in these shots, but on the left, we see Shiro’s bicep when it’s relatively flexed (pulling his arm back so he can grab the weapon) and relatively relaxed (holding the weapon while hiding from Myzax in the arena, so he’s not perfectly at rest, but he’s also not exerting a lot of energy right at that second), while on the right, we see his biceps in multiple positions/states as well as in comparison to Keith and Hunk

Here are the full glimpses of those caps with Keith and Hunk, though, because I think it’s useful to see them in full (as opposed to how I had to shift them around to focus on Shiro in the collage)

Like, we know that Shiro is bigger than Keith, that’s not news. The biggest point about that cap, to me, is how Shiro’s waist is notably bigger than Keith, but it doesn’t seem to have as much of a size difference on Keith’s waist as Shiro’s arms have on Keith’s arms.

Like, they’re not close enough in size for Shiro to be able to wear Keith’s jeans (I mean, unless Keith lives in black leggings or something, Shiro’s thighs would probably destroy his poor boyfriend’s jeans, just bust all of the seams wide open, before he even had to deal with the issue of whether or not he could zip and/or button them — and if Keith does live in black leggings, then they would essentially be painted onto Shiro’s body and no one in a five-mile radius would be able to focus on anything), but still.

There does seem to be a bigger size difference between Shiro’s and Keith’s arms, than between their respective waists. I don’t know what I make of that exactly, but I find it interesting.

But I’m somewhat more interested in the size comparison between Shiro and Hunk:

—because their biceps come out looking relatively similar in size — if not exactly the same, then definitely pretty similarly-sized. And we know that the composition here is different because Hunk has more body fat than Shiro, but that just makes it even more of a big deal, to me, that Shiro’s biceps seem to be about the same size as Hunk’s

And it all makes me have look at it like this: okay, so Shiro’s body did visibly change from how it was before he went on the Kerberos mission, whether we want to say that he’s like Chris Evans!Cap, an MMA fighter, super-beefy, borderline-bara Space Daddy, or whatever.

I know I still lean more toward the MMA fighter interpretation because: 1. I think that meta I linked above made several really good points about the more practical considerations of what kind of workouts and nutrition Shiro could’ve expected as a Galra slave turned gladiator, and about how Shiro’s body looks when we see it in canon, what that might mean, etc.

(also, the above-linked meta’s point about how Shiro’s waist is pretty narrow compared to the rest of his body changed the perception I’d had of his physique before reading, because I hadn’t really noticed it myself. But then I did the math on a few different screencaps of him from different episodes, and…… yeah, Shiro’s waist is about half the width of his shoulders, for whatever that means to anyone but me);

and 2. ……I mean, no, a lot of MMA fighters might not be as obviously huge as Chris Evans!Cap or the way some people draw beefy borderline-bara Space Daddy!Shiro, but have you seen some of the MMA guys out there? You totally can find some who have waspish-looking little waists and huge biceps without being super beefy in any way.

But however we interpret Shiro’s body type and the changes in his body from his time with the Galra, the difference between pre-Champion!Shiro and post-Champion!Shiro still raises the question of how the Hell he managed to gain a noticeable amount of weight (keeping in mind that even if 6’3” is just my headcanon, he is still probably at least six feet tall, based on how his height stacks up to the other characters’) and get it cut into more muscle

(I wouldn’t personally call what he did “bulking up,” because that tends to imply some kind of intent behind it that I don’t think Shiro would’ve had when his primary concern always needed to be just on surviving — but at the same time, I don’t really know what else to call it, so? *shrug emoji*)

Druids playing around with Quintessence steroids is always an option, as is, “well, they were experimenting on him even before they took his arm, right?” — but I think he probably would’ve had to gain at least some of the weight and muscle by then, because his time as the Champion is implied to be the reason why Haggar and the Druids ever took interest in him in the first place

The way I see it, Shiro getting any weight he put on turned into muscle probably wouldn’t have been as hard as actually gaining it in the first place, because even if his “workouts” were far from ideal (i.e., either preparing for or taking part in literal life or death situations where he’s fighting in an arena against opponents who are considerably bigger than he is), they were workouts and Shiro had necessity as his motivation, so based on what scant bits we know of his time as the Champion, he probably put a lot of work behind trying not to die

Gaining the weight on a slave diet would’ve been next to impossible, but Shiro first became known as the Champion (at least to some people) after he took out Myzax, which was (as far as we know) his first battle.

We may not know any hard facts about any culture or practices that have been built up around the arena and the gladiator fights, but we know that getting to sit with Zarkon is considered an honor, and we can look at some historical precedents (like the Roman Coliseum and the culture of celebrity that could crop up around some of the gladiators)

And I don’t want to say that Shiro probably had “patrons” and “benefactors” paying to feed him better, or that maybe they did more that I kinda want to go into and think about more, but also keep scare myself off of thinking about too much because I know that I’ll go to some of the same feels that I kick myself in whenever I do anything with Finnick Odair, and that I’ll probably make myself crossover ship Finnick/Shiro more than I already do

……But that’s exactly what I’m saying because that’s how I feel about the changes to Shiro’s body during his year as The Champion, and I’m sad about it, the end

[rachello344]

First thing’s first:  As each of my other two meta rely on this assumption, I’m going to explain the reasons I think this new “Shiro” at the end of season three is a clone.  For simplicity’s sake, from here on, when I mean the Shiro from season three, I’ll call him Kuron (after Project Kuron) and the real Shiro will just be Shiro.  That being said, let’s start from the beginning.  This is going to get long and maybe a little complicated, but bear with me.  It’s going under this readmore for length.

When we first meet him, Kuron has long hair, long enough to imply that it’s been at least six months, maybe even closer to a year.  That, more than anything, really throws a wrench into the timeline.  “How long has Shiro been gone?”  Well, by all accounts, no more than a month, no less than about two weeks.  And yet, his hair is that long?  It doesn’t make sense.  And then, on top of that, Kuron sees another Shiro strapped down.  At first, I thought it was because he was having a nightmare, but it’s shown that he is awake, just shaky.  I’m willing to believe that he did really see another Shiro--after all, why make only one clone?  And even if he was imagining it, why does he remember seeing another Shiro that wasn’t himself?  Why are their ID numbers different?  It all adds up to suggest that this new “Shiro” (Kuron), really is a clone.

And then, we have his escape.  The empire was holding the Champion, the Black Paladin of Voltron, on some distant outpost near an ice planet with rebels on it?  Really?  That seems unsafe and a little ridiculous.  Shiro is probably one of the Galra’s Most Wanted, and I’m to believe that he wasn’t being held in maximum security in the center of the Empire?  That doesn’t sound right.  And then, as if that wasn’t enough, they let him escape?  Why would they do that?  (I know why I think they’d do that, but that’s a topic for another post.)

I won’t go too much into the circumstances of his finding Voltron again (also suspect), because I’m going to be focusing on that in the aforementioned post.  Instead, let’s move to his change in design.  Changing a character’s hair or clothes mid-season in this kind of cartoon is something that implies a drastic change from the character’s baseline.  Consider Zuko cutting off his hair in ATLA, a sign that he was moving away from what his father wanted from him, starting over and trying to retake what honor means to him, etc.  Korra cuts her hair after a significant trauma.  Mulan cuts her hair to become Ping.  Kaneki Ken in Tokyo Ghoul has at least three distinct designs, all of which indicate completely different personalities--the original “black-haired” Kaneki, “white-haired Kaneki,” and Haise (black roots with white hair).  When Kaneki is no longer “Haise,” his hair immediately returns to its previous white.  Character design matters with differentiating, even when it’s the same character suffering a drastic change.

For Shiro, we’ve seen Original Shiro (pre-Kerberos), his appearance post-Kerberos (and after being forced to fight and experimented on, a trauma the turned some of his hair white), Sven (like pre-Kerberos Shiro, but with an accent), and now Kuron (shorter hair, different clothes).  Differentiating him to that extent would only make sense if a. Shiro were gone for longer, b. the events he suffered were especially traumatic, or c. if this Shiro is not the same as the original.  Kuron and Sven are both significant departures from Shiro’s normal design, both in their hair and their clothes--and for Sven, his arm.  I don’t think the events between Shiro’s disappearance and his apparent reappearance were enough for that kind of change in design, but if he were a totally different Shiro, it would make sense.  And the fact that we have a fake Shiro to compare with is both significant and a little too convenient.

Even if the design and the circumstances weren’t enough, his behavior and Keith’s response to him are also suspect.  We have seen two seasons of “Shiro as he naturally is.”  He’s noble and self-sacrificing, supportive (especially of Keith), and he has a pretty morbid sense of humor (gallows humor anyone?).  Kuron has shown himself to be none of those things.  I believe that Shiro, rather than trying to return to being Black Paladin right away, would have stood aside and let Keith lead.  Shiro is the one who chose Keith.  Why would he try to get in the way of something he wanted?  And then even disrupt Keith during a mission?  The same Shiro who allowed Keith to do what he thought was necessary with the Blade of Marmora, only promising to step in if he thought things were too dangerous or getting out of hand.  That Shiro has never been the type of person to command like Kuron is shown to--he doesn’t need to.

And it wasn’t until after the fact that I realized that a Shiro held captive by apparent rebel forces (people who should be on his side) would have spent most of the time joking about it.  I mean, he was clearly not in any particular danger.  Escaping was simple enough for him.  And he didn’t crack a single joke?  No sighing about ending up in such a position or about being held captive by his own potential allies?  And in the ship when he’s on his own, he didn’t make a single joke in his log?  That’s just unrealistic.  Shiro is like the main character in The Martian.  He’s prone to self-deprecating humor, especially if he’s in some kind of danger.  (When he was bleeding and surrounded by beasts, he was talking casually with Keith, cracking jokes about the situation.)  Kuron doesn’t make a single joke.  Not one.

Now, on a darker note: his orders during the team’s attempts to fight Lotor/retake the comet.  At the beginning of the mission, Keith insists on going after Lotor and leaving the comet for later.  If they can take Lotor out of the equation now, they should.  Kuron shuts that down and insists he and the team go after the comet.  Everyone agrees with Kuron.  When they’re outside, going after the comet (the ship), Kuron suddenly commands they go after Lotor and the warp gate, doing a complete 180 on his orders.  Everyone, again, agrees with Kuron.  And then, when Keith insists they go after Lotor’s ship, Kuron stops them and calls them back to regroup.

Keith’s frustration, at a glance, appears to be a case of growing pains.  He’s apparently used to leading now, so he dislikes taking orders--except that Keith would be happy to have Shiro lead again.  He’s willing to follow orders... that make sense.  Shiro normally allows Keith to do what he thinks is right.  He trusts Keith’s judgment and frequently asks his opinion on plans of action.  Kuron actively undermines Keith’s authority, calling all of his plans into question and leads the team in effectively isolating and dog-piling Keith.  These scenes are followed by Keith and Kuron speaking alone.  Kuron apologizes for his behavior but also scolds Keith, insisting he learn to choose his battles, as if Keith wasn’t doing exactly that the entire time.

Kuron’s orders during the mission were always to do what Keith didn’t want to do.  He constantly negated Keith’s orders to the detriment of the mission, using his authority and the others’ trust in him to derail any and all of Keith’s plans.  Keith is capable of adapting, so he managed to complete part of their mission anyway, but that’s only because he’s a quick thinker, even under pressure.  It took me a little while to realize what it was about this that left me feeling so unsettled.  During these scenes, Kuron is gaslighting Keith.  He keeps flipping the script on Keith, isolating him from the rest of the team, and insisting that he’s in the right, that he knows best, that what he’s doing is for Keith’s own good.  He apologizes but in the same breath scolds Keith.  And if Keith called him on it, no one would believe him.  They would all think he was making it up or imagining it.  Even in his own team, Keith is alone once again.  And the real Shiro would never stand for that let alone make it happen himself.

Keith is more comfortable with Shiro than with anyone else. He is the first person he thinks about during disaster, and the first person he worries might be in danger.  Shiro is both his greatest hope and his greatest fear.  Keith is more afraid of losing Shiro than anything else.  So then why doesn’t he seem more happy to see him here?  Everyone else seems happier than Keith when Keith was the one most intent on searching for him.  Sure, he wants this to be Shiro and he wants to be allowed to have this, but I think he knows that something’s wrong.  He was planning to search the universe for Shiro, but he turned up practically at their doorstep without any effort on Keith’s part.  It was too easy.  In almost every shot of “Shiro” and Keith this season, Keith’s expression is strained or worried.  He smiles a few times, but none of them are like the normal smiles he reserves for Shiro.  Keith infiltrated a government building, crossed a chasm and fought monsters, attacked Zarkon, all to get Shiro back.  So then why doesn’t he look more relieved?

I think, at some level, Keith suspects that this Shiro is actually the wrong one.  After his initial shock at seeing Sven, Keith basically completely disregards him, more concerned with the Alteans than with him, despite the uncanny resemblance to the boy he’s been searching for.  And here we see a similar coldness, though not the same.  This is almost Shiro.  Sometimes, he really is exactly like Shiro, but others he does things that Shiro would never do.  That disconnect is enough to sow doubt in the minds of both the viewer and Keith.  VLD never seems to show the initial moments of reunion or strong emotion between people--often to their detriment, imo--but they do show the fallout, and regardless of how their initial reunion went, the latter stages of it show Keith distrusting Shiro in a way that he never has.

Keith and the Black Lion want Shiro back more than anyone else.  They are both still looking for him.  But the lion refused Kuron from piloting her.  She switched between Keith and Shiro before, so why would she refuse Shiro now?  Unless, perhaps, he isn’t her Shiro, and she knows it.  After all, Shiro is the kind of leader who doesn’t want to lead.  I don’t think he would insist on taking the reins again the first moment he could--trying to pry his role back from Keith is unlike him and unfitting for the leader he has shown himself to be.  With his behavior out of the ordinary and Black turning him away despite still looking for him, it’s no wonder that Keith seems to be on his guard with the person he usually trusts more than himself.  It’s a wonder that no one else (in show) has noticed at this point.

I’m sure I’ve missed a few points, but I know I’m not the only one who believes this Shiro is more likely a clone than the real deal.  In any case, if anyone has any questions or points they want clarified, please feel free to send me an ask.  I’d be happy to elaborate.  I’m going to be writing two more posts, on the lions and on Lotor, so I’ll answer any questions I get afterward.