#pidge: that is SO unfair. keith help me out here

[discordiansamba]

Colleen: Sorry Allura, Katie can't go shopping with you. She's grounded because someone thinks demon summoning is an acceptable hobby for a fifteen year old girl.

(Keith chooses now to walk in.)

Keith: Uh. Am I in trouble too?

Colleen: No, you're just fine, Keith.

[girlboypersonthingy]

paladins (ESP PIDGE AND KEITH) x chubby read plz🛐

HELL YESSSS as a chubby reader myself, I LOVE THIS!!! So this is going to get a bit body specific just fyi. Also this gets a little suggestive, mostly just getting handsy and making out. I’ve included my fav 3 paladins ❤️💙💚 Thank you again for requesting, anon ILY 🖤 ENJOY~

UPDATE: I posted a part 2 with Shiro, Hunk and Matt. Go check it out HERE 🖤💛🧡

Keith, Lance and Pidge x chubby reader~

KEITH ❤️

Dude…your hips drive him CRAZY. He loves to hold onto them as he leans in for a kiss. He just thinks all of you feels good to grab onto. When y’all are in private, he’s just letting his hands wander your whole body…with your consent of course.

He’s like “Hey…uh (Y/N)? C-can I uh…touch y-your. Sorry. Can I grab your- well not grab. Th-that’s NOT what I meant. Ugh, Shit…” and you eventually decide to end his suffering by grabbing his hands and leading the way, showing him exactly where you want them.

He LOVES training and sparring with you.

Bc he gets to be as handsy as he wants with you without it being weird

Bc you can totally hold your own against him. Sure, you’re chubby but you’re strong and you stand your ground so well. You’re a good challenge for him.

Bc he wants to show off and impress you. You know this boy would try SO HARD to flex on you during training. Plz admire and compliment him.

If he ever hears even a slightly rude comment from anyone about your weight or the way you look (it definitely wouldn’t be from the other paladins tho) he’s gonna immediately go sicko mode on them. Boy would kill someone for you for real.

If you’re ever sad about it, he’s not exactly the best at comforting you but he really tries. He’ll hold you close and either rub his hands over your skin softly or he’ll gently pet your hair.

He’s honestly just confused like ??? But you’re so hot…who cares if you’re a little chubby? He’s just so chill about it. It’s obviously never bothered him. He thinks you’re gorgeous regardless.

Every time you two are having a steamy make out session, he can’t help but squeeze different parts of you. He pulls you to lay on top of him and kisses you softly as his hands feel their way around. You’re so soft, physically and emotionally. You make him feel so comfy and content.

Keith doesn’t seem like the type to really even care about body types tho. If he vibes with you, then that’s all that matters. 🤷🏻

BUT he does like that you have a little something extra to offer him~

LANCE 💙

HE THINKS YOU ARE SO FUCKIN GOOD LOOKING ASHDJJDJJJK 😍

He’s a tall lanky boy and he likes that you’re thicker than him. He thinks your physical differences make you guys a really cute couple.

He wants to make you feel good about yourself ALWAYS so he flirts very strategically with you. He uses specific pick up lines that make you feel good about being chubby.

“(Y/N), as long as I have a face, you’ll always have a place to sit.” Omfg what a perv.

“If I told you that you have a bangin body, would you hold it against me?” Boy bye.

“Yeah, anybody can fly in a straight line. It takes a REAL pilot to handle the curves~” GOODBYE HE’S SO CHEESY

If he ever even suspected that anyone was talking shit about your weight or how you look, he’d try to distract you and calmly lead you away from the situation. Then he’d try to get all kissy and grabby and show you how much he adores you and your body.

If you’re ever sad about your weight or appearance, he’s shutting that thought down immediately. He’s totally felt insecure about his own physique before so he kinda gets it. He always reassures you that you are so freaking cute and that he loves every single inch of you.

You often catch him staring at you with wide eyes and an open, drooly mouth. “Uhm can I help you?” “Huh? Oh, no…sorry. Heh.” And he’s turning bright red as he continues to try and sneak glances at you. The way your clothes fit to you is just unfair. He can’t focus when you’re in the room, bending down, leaning over, teasing him.

When you two are getting kissy and handsy, he always pulls you into his lap and grips your thick thighs. Boy has a thing for your thighs. He wants those things wrapped around his head right now.

With Lance, it’s not just that your body doesn’t bother him, it’s that he actually REALLY likes your body. He loves the way you look, he thinks you are perfect and wouldn’t change a single thing.

PIDGE 💚

Oh my god, they are so into you. They’re so tiny and they just want you to hold them in your big warm arms.

When y’all first met, they were just thinking ‘oh my god, you’re so cute. I’d literally let you step on me.’

You wouldn’t think Pidge is super touchy but with you, they are always trying to initiate physical touch.

They like to lay their head on your thigh as they code on their computer. They like to lay on top of you in bed, their head on your chest as it rises and falls with each breath. Most of all, they LOVE being your little spoon when they are upset and in need of comfort. Their head is cushioned by your arm, your other arm is wrapped around their torso and they’re just so comfy. They are sad for like 5 seconds and then they are SNORING. You calm them down like no one else.

Pidge definitely isn’t as kissy and handsy as the boys are, but they CRAVE your touch. They just want you to hold them so tightly that they can’t inhale another breath. They want you to smother them with your love.

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GIVE THEM PIGGY BACK RIDES THEY LOVE IT. Just carry them around in any position and their little heart is melting. The best is when they fall asleep on the floor or at a desk while doing their work and you pick them up and carry them to bed. They wake up like “huh?” And then they see you in their bed, cuddling up to them and they have so many feelings for you rn wow.

They are always cold so when you come in the room, they’re like “forget a sweater. Get over here.” And you proceed to hold them close, keeping them warm as they tap away on their laptop.

Pidge is a loud mouth, not afraid of anything or anyone so if they overhear some negative things being said about your body or weight, they immediately start talking shit right back. “WHAT WAS THAT?! OH REALLY??? GET OVER HERE AND SAY IT AGAIN, I DARE YOU.” They will not hesitate to verbally AND physically tear someone apart in your honor.

If you are feeling sad and insecure, Pidge will stop everything they are doing, which always surprises you, and take you back to their room for cuddles. They like to switch roles sometimes and pull you to lay on top of them. You worry that you’ll hurt them or make them uncomfortable but they refuse to let you move off of them. “No, please. You’re like a weighted blanket, I love this.” And they do. They love this more than anything.

One of the best parts about being plus size and dating Pidge is that they have no shame, about the way they look, the way they eat, the way they dress, the way they sit. So you feel so secure when you eat in front of them or when you wear something that maybe isn’t the most flattering on your body. They don’t give a single fuck, you’re cute 24/7, 365, no matter what in their opinion.

[ibelonginthepast]

Hunk for the character ask thing??

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HUNK!!!! FINALLY!!! I am such a ho for him sorry

Sexuality Headcanon: i have no particular fixed pref, he could be straight, but i like to think he's bi throughout. I think he is a believer of fluid sexuality, so he doesn't really fits himself in a label. He goes along with whoever he likes.

Gender Headcanon: I sometimes like to hc him as a trans man (ftm). He/him pronouns. He was cultured into toxic masculinity. He has had his struggles with it. He was teased for being soft because of his anxiety issues. His tendency to be emotional and expressive. He has had been a victim of toxic masculinity constantly, even adopted it and perpetuated it further for a while before giving up. He is passionate about healthy masculinity and really understands it now. He is a fierce feminist and in for breaking the patriarchy.

A ship I have with said character: the thing is i hate Canon. I dont like the first sight first meet fall in love kind of thing they did with hunk and shay, but with what I headcanon shay as, I think she is perfect for him. He would balance her head on approach to stuff, and she will balance his tendency to ponder. He is a total simp for shay. He's a sucker for a simple calm life, while shay is on the ambitious side, and he fully supports her.

A BROTP I have with said character: hance is a given. heith! I will fucking die for this. I love thinking up stories of how Keith, despite being the one to struggle to open up, will inevitably fall for hunk. Hunk is just so approachable, so welcoming, so loving. I see hunk as also very fierce. He will stand in front as a literal physical shield to protect the ones he loves. He is dedicated when he loves and he never gives up on anyone. This is something he will share with Keith. One of the only people who will relate with Keith on a soul level on this. Punk!!! I love it. So much. Hunk is just amazing at platonic relationships. Hunk takes care of pidge a lot, they are his sibling. They simp on tech together ofc!! Even tho Shiro is everyone's dad, hunk cares for him, brings him his energy drinks and blankets all the time cause let's be real Shiro is low-key wishing death all the time and does not care for himself. Hunk is one of those peeps who scream SHIRO! NO! everytime Shiro makes a bad joke about death. Hunk's caring nature extends to everyone. Allura again is bad at taking care of herself, and he helps. He defo teaches allura samoan box braids!!! Coran too. Hunk bakes with coran sitting beside, chatting unrelentlessly but here's the thing, Hunk doesn't tolerate it. He genuinely likes listening to people and knowing them. One of the reasons he goes so well with Lance.

A NOTP I have with said character: humph he could go with anyone ngl. Shunk is extra weird to me, Shiro is a dad through and through i ew shaladins.

A random headcanon:

Despite what people think, hunk thinks he struggles with words. He uses food to express love. If he feels distant with anyone, he cooks for them.

Hunk does get tired after caring for people so much, but he has healthy nice fam around him who he lets take care of him too. He knows he needs to care for himself, and after some time of struggling with it, he now proudly take care of himself as well.

Hunk has struggled with severe anxiety. He has had panic attacks, complete meltdowns. His family was a bit pressurizing in terms of his career and all, and he has always felt responsible to get an excellent job in the stem section to make his parents proud.

He got into stem because of his parents, but he developed his love for it later too. He genuinely started finding STEM very interesting.

He contributed in making of fun robots in school's stem centres all the time. He had a teacher who was obsessed with making anime monsters, and even though hunk himself hates gore and shit he had fun making those and sometimes watched those weird ass animes and talked about how those wild ass writers were defo on weed while writing the script. He bonded over weeb stuff surprisingly with Shiro ;)

He hasn't been the smartest forever, like pidge. He actually worked his way to it. He is very dedicated, hard working and passionate.

He has undiagnosed ADD, but it hasn't interferred with him fitting in much. He has been able to do his work, and he recognized some tricks to focus early in life. His anxiety drives him to work as much as it distracts him. he just discovers his ADD later in therapy.

He makes pretty notes. He has an unhealthy obsession with pastel yellow highlighter.

Hunk is very well equipped with samoan tattoo art designs and understanding them. it's something his grandparents taught him since forever. His grandfather did tattoos and he saw them when he was little. He wants to get atleast some sort of soga'i miki. He's been always conflicted about wanting Pe'a cause its so beautiful and masculine in expression and not wanting it because it's so painful and permanent.

Because he has lived in America his whole life, he has struggled with his national identity a lot. He gets taunted by by family in samoa for being American and for speaking english better than samoan. He doenst always fit in well in america either for obvious reasons. He has struggled with feeling like he belongs. Its something he bonds with Lance on.

He is passionate about dismantling the social organization in samoa and its ill effects. He understands the systems and talks about their unfairness. This is something his distant and traditional family members get annoyed at him for.

He talks passionately about the freedom struggles of samoa and the samoan civil wars. He likes listening to stories of freedom fighters of samoa and great leaders. He is very critical of European colonization and takes no shit from europe apologists.

He is low-key a Satanist and likes to tell people about how God was super sexist to Lilith and how absolutely bullshit her banishment was,, how Satan is the coolest first feminist and made her the queen she is, and how Satan is the coolest dude for being the first rebel and equalist. He talks about how he gave us knowledge, and it created the world we are in rn or else we would still be all dumb and naked in the garden. His family is Christian and religious, he has read stories from bibles and come to the conclusions himself.

General Opinion over said character: i am horribly sad but I swear to God one cuddle from this cinnamon roll will cure me of everything

IMP NOTE: I am not samoan, but I read about countries where my favorite characters are from sometimes. I have started reading about che and communist Cuba for Lance too ;) All this info is from the internet, and I cannot say for sure its all good and true. If I am wrong with anything, please point it out.

THANKS FOR THIS! Now go drink water <3

[lilflowerpot]

Honestly, I understand Allura hesitation and suspicion against Galras, I can’t help sometimes but expect the worst from people who are from Unites States. The whole imperialism ultra military thing fucking up and invading vulnerable countries. People there don’t seem to realize or care enough to protest. Of course is more about nationality here than race but cartoons kind pick up things from real life. Is difficult to trust who has the upper hand. Allura in canon had the right to suspect The Blade of Marmora and then had the maturity to recognize they wanted to help and allied with them. Allura in canon stopped suspecting Lotor the moment he proved he wanted to change the Empire and then we have the whole “I’m actually bad” Lotor canon which broke her confidence. Honestly after all the Empire have done would be weird if she had NOT have the mistrust. Glad she did and glad she could see there were people she could trust.

“Not ‘the Galra’ but ‘the Empire’, it’s a rather key differentiation. [...] If you must place blame on an entire group rather than the individuals responsible, then make it a societal structure rather than our race. People cannot help what they are born as, but the systems they serve and benefit from are of their own choosing. The Empire took your family from you, and that is regrettable, but I will not be burdened by guilt on behalf of blood I had no say in.”

- Lotor, Little Blade, chapter 10

No piece of media exists in an isolated bubble, so yes, I agree with you when you say that “cartoons kind of pick up things from real life,” but please understand that while I do not condone militant imperialism, I also will not condemn all people from a particular place for being from that place... that’s...... that’s literally a sub-plot in Little Blade. I very deliberately had Lotor address Pidge’s conflation of “the Galra” and “the Empire” as an undesirable and frankly unfair outlook.

I think your intention with this ask was to defend Allura’s actions as understandable considering everything she suffered at Imperial hands, which of course I agree with (though “understandable” does not equate to “right”), but in the same breath you displayed an undercurrent of that exact prejudice against... everyone from the US? All 331 million people? Really?

“That’s just it Allura, you think I’m the exception to the rule but you’re wrong. I’m not one of the good Galra, I’m just Galra. That’s all.”

Her hand retreats.

“I only meant that they’re-”

“There is no them.” Keith doesn’t shout, but the words tumble out on a breath of furious exasperation that cuts through the air between them with a sharp hiss. “Can being Galra and being terrible overlap? Of course. But it’s not a correlation, and if you’re using that to try and make the casualties Voltron leaves behind okay then I’m sorry but I can’t let you do that!”

“That is not what I’m doing!” Rage replaces reluctance, and vindictively - selfishly - Keith is glad of it.

“That’s exactly what you’re doing! You’re projecting Zarkon’s face onto an entire race of people-”

“They’re hardly innocent!” She spins on her heel and takes several paces away from where Keith’s stood, only to whirl back around with fire in her footsteps. “The Galra follow Zarkon; yes, he’s their Emperor and holds a great deal of responsibility for the state of the universe, but even he is not wholly to blame! Without the compliance of his people he would not have wrought nearly so much death and destruction!”

“Fine!” Keith sags back against the window, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets with more force than he should. “Fine. So the imperial military is full of killers. Show me a military that isn’t.”

Allura’s halting silence is an answer in itself, and Keith lets his arms drop to his sides as he looks at her.

“The Galra have been following Zarkon for thousands of decaphoebs; to us, yeah, he’s an immortal monster, but to them he’s a god. Don’t tell me you can’t see that.”

Keith watches for the slow draining of tension from her posture, even as the Princess crosses her arms as if to shield herself.

“Strength, victory, that’s everything to them. They lost their planet too, Allura, and I know,” he raises his hands to pacify her, “I know what happened to Altea was unforgivable, and I know that your father had a good reason for doing what he did, but that’s not how it’s been recorded in the Imperial history books.”

- Keith & Allura, Little Blade, chapter 15

Perhaps I’ve misread you, and frankly I want to avoid getting overly political on this blog because it exists for me as a lovely little bubble of escapism from the shitstorm that is presently the world we live in, but one of the most prevalent themes of LB is the dismantling of racist attitudes in a warring climate, so I didn’t feel that I could simply let this one lie considering the way in which you worded the first half of this ask.

[delaneytveit]

Back at it again bc I have no chill

I said there would be a part 2 and I always keep my promises bc that’s literally my only redeeming quality but its fine. so here is my life’s work!

part 1/ part 2  

It's been a few Earth weeks since Lance was first gifted his own shooting range by the incredible Coran. Thanks to having his own training facility, lance can go in a practice when ever he wants and doesn’t have to worry about running into the others. However, he still can’ sleep at night, his body is too use to the adrenaline rush of training at 3 am. 

So instead of laying in bed staring at the ceiling for hours on end, Lance goes to the Castle’s library. Coran has been teaching Lance some Altean, so he can semi read it now, but he keeps that knowledge under lock and key. Its not like it would really help the team anyways. 

What will help the team, however, is what he chooses to read, he picks up some medical books, and thus starts his modified medical training. Coran helps out as well, teaching him how to use the pods and about the minor procedures that would be helpful in the field and in the infirmary. 

Coran knows better than to ask Lance why he wants to learn such things. He’s heard the offhanded jokes the boy makes about being useless, and though he wants to do everything in his power to convince the blue paladin that even if he didn’t know these things, that he is far from useless, he doesn’t. He decides instead to help him. 

In all honesty, the Altean was disappointed more than anything. Disappointed in the way the rest of the team, save for number two, seemed to do naught but call out Lance’s weakness in training and mistakes in missions. It wasn’t fair to the poor boy who was working so hard to be enough for a team that disregarded the effort. He couldn’t really fault them though, they didn’t know that the bags under his eyes were from the long nights spent studying medicine in a completely different language. They didn’t know the stiffness in his muscles were from the hours upon hours of training he did in the range. But he was tired of it. 

One day, after a particularly hard training session, and a much too harsh lecture by Allura and Shiro, Lance had left the raining deck and went straight to the shooting range. The words Allura had spoke pounded in his head the whole trip there.

 “If you would only just focus instead of thinking everything is a joke, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” 

“I don’t understand why you can’t just get this level, its not that hard, Keith passed it on the first try.” 

“Maybe if you put in the extra practice you would be able to make the shots you need.” 

Extra practice. Extra practice? Because the 8 hours he put in yesterday and the 7 hours the day before weren't enough, right? He marched straight to the range. 

Coran waited until Lance had left the deck before approaching the group. “That wasn’t fair to say, Princess. He's been working very hard.” 

it was number four that scoffed at that, which made Coran frown. “Walk with me, all of you.” 

He led them down the hallways, he very path he led Lance, the boy who had become a son to him, that first night he had gifted the range to him. He ignored the questions of where they were going, and instead led them to a door that opened to a room he frequented quite often. The observation room of the range. 

They had arrived just in time to watch Lance, now dressed in a black short sleeve shirt and tactical pants emerge from the dressing room. They watched as he walked into the weapons locker directly across from them and retrieve two different cases. 

“Azure, play Fuck the police.” He said aloud, placing the cases on the counter facing the targets. 

“Playing Fuck tha Police by NWA.” a female automated voice spoke, and the sound of the music filled the room. 

 Pidge chuckled at that. “He would.” 

As the song played, Lance loaded his first firearm, a version that looked a lot like a handgun from Earth, and aimed at the first target. 

The group watched in awe as Lance hit target after target. Not missing a shot. When he was satisfied, he switched to a bigger blaster, and did the same process. They watched as he switched from fixed targets to moving targets. The little droid bots moving around the back of the range, and he made every shot. To say that they were impressed was an understatement. 

“He’s amazing.” Shiro stated, never moving his eyes from the boy he had just spent an entire training session scolding. 

“He is. He’s a marksman, he needs distance.” Coran said simply, pride in his voice. 

But he wasn’t done. Lance returned the cases to the locker and grabbed his Bayard. He locked the locker and made his way to the ladder next to it. He climbed up and settled himself into the spot, activating his Bayard into a sniper rifle. He laid down and leveled his rifle, before making the command to release the moving targets. 

“The range is more that triple the size of the training deck,”Coran states, earning a few astonished looks from the paladins and the Princess alike. 

10 bots were released, 10 shots were taken,not a single bot remained. 

They watched him for a bit more before Hunk’s stomach decided to growl. Shiro proposed a lunch break and the rest of the group agreed. They began to make their way out of the observation room, only to realize that Keith hadn’t moved from where he stood. 

“Keith, c’mon, we’re hungry.” Pidge whined. 

He didn’t respond, Keeping his eyes on Lance as the sniper continued to make shot after shot on the small flying droids that were on the other side of the giant room. He was so engrossed in the display that he almost didn’t feel Shiro place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Keith, what’s up?”

“...Is anyone else coming to the realization that this guy could have killed all of us at any time and we wouldn’t see it coming?” He joked, in all honesty he was more impressed than anything. 

Shiro chuckled at that, “He is a pretty amazing shot. Which reminds me, I think we all owe Lance an apology for our comments, its clear he puts in a lot of time into his training.” 

There were nods all around as the group finally decided to exit the observation room and go get some lunch. Hunk volunteering to bring Lance a plate. 

They all promised to have a meeting with Lance once he was done, sit down and apologize, it needed to be done, and they were ready to make up for their unfair treatment towards him. 

He may not forgive them at first, or ever really, but they hoped that by changing their ways, he would feel more appreciated as part of the team. 

He is their sharpshooter after all.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 185

185

   Having Hunk pick him up, Keith knew things could go terribly wrong. He didn’t like loud noises or crowds at the best of times, and now he was going shopping with guaranteed exposure to both. Leaving Lance a note, he told himself he was being stupid for worrying. This wasn’t his first trip into Garrison, but it was his first trip into Garrison since his accident.

  Hunk was happy to help. He didn’t question Keith wearing glasses, or why the headphones covering his ears weren’t playing music. Trying to make him feel at easy, his friend chatted about how things had been at garage, with the parts they’d been waiting on finally coming in. Hunk’s dad had been pretty worried about him, Keith didn’t know he’d made so much of an impression.

  Garrison seemed so different now. Maybe because it was blurry, but it also carried a different feel about it. The drive seemed shorter too, less bumpy, though Lance needed to get in touch with the shire about fixing the dip in his driveway. Hunk hitting it a little too hard and making them both lurch. Parking in front of the general store, Keith’s anxiety skyrocketed at the task ahead of him.

  “Uh, Keith. Are you okay? If it’s too much, I don’t mind going in”

Glancing to his hands, his nails were a little longer than they should be. Hunk had every right to be concerned

“I’m kind of... freaking out now where here”

Honesty seemed to be the theme of the day

“Man, we can totally take it as slowly as you need”

Was he doing the right thing? Coming here without Lance, he hoped to surprise him in a good way

“I know... Hunk, can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing, man. You can ask me anything”

“Is Lance going to be mad?”

Hunk hummed

“Not the way you think. I think he’ll be shocked he wasn’t here, but I don’t think he’ll be mad. Unless you do something super bad”

  Like wolfed out in the middle of the store? He hated the paranoia that he would

“I... um... had a talk with Coran. About this ego thing. He said it’d help to do nice things with Lance... and... um... I guess I’m worried about that. I don’t know how to tell him that I want to do this for him, and that it’ll help my ego, without upsetting him”

“Dude, you’ve always been doing nice things for Lance”

“But I feel like this is using him to calm myself down”

“That’s one way to look at it. The other way to look at is that you both deserve something nice. You guys don’t exactly have a normal life. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but you know...”

  His ego was pleased to hear that he and Lance deserved niceness. Keith still felt guilty

“I don’t want him to think I’m using him”

“Maybe you could tell him? He’d understand”

Lance kept being so understanding that it had to weigh so heavily on his shoulders. The vampire his carer, his stability, and growing their twins. The burden seemed more than unfair

“He’s been too understanding as it is. I just... don’t like feeling like there’s two mes in here. I don’t like the idea of doing something that I know he’ll love, but doing it because it also benefits me”

Hunk patted Keith’s knee

“Bud, you really should tell him. But for now, if you’re going to wolf out, can you please aim for Miss Lee in the bakery department? She’s committed crimes against humanity with her croissants. You could use them for a hammer”

“Sounds about as good as what I’d make...”

“I’ll give you a crash course this afternoon, Bud. It’ll all be okay”

   The feeling of this being a horrible mistake grew with Keith’s first breath in the store. He should have worn a mask. Everything was... smelly. The lights seemed way too bright, and his stomach rumbled at the scent of meat department. Not that they really had departments, they just had staff that hovered in certain areas. Retail could only suck as a job. People sucked. His opinion there hadn’t changed much when it came to strangers. Grabbing a trolley, Hunk came to his side

“You okay? We totally don’t have to do this if you aren’t up to it”

Overwhelmed, Keith growled

“What kind of a mate would I be if I can’t provide for my partner?”

Hunk ignoring his growl, staying by his side

“Alright then, we’re going to ignore what happened. Do you have a list?”

Lists were for normal people, they were winging it from here on out

“Not really. I want to get things Lance likes”

Hunk cuffed a hand on his shoulder, gesturing ahead to the rows in front of them as if it was some kind of wonderland

“That I can help you. Just let your best buddy guide you”

    Hunk guiding him was an experience. Keith had a hard time keeping his control. The local rumour mill was in overdrive. Lots of busybodies whispering about how since he’d come to town Lance had been seen less and less. Whispers of concern about what kind of person he was hurt. A few had some very unkind things to say about the kind of relationship he was in with Lance. Keith ready to blow a fuse. They knew nothing about him or Lance. Not the true versions of themselves or their relationship. Lance would doing everything he used to be doing if he hadn’t gotten his boyfriend pregnant. He knew his boyfriend missed breakfasts at Sal’s, and normality of running his household as he had. They had no right to be spreading baseless rumours. Unexpectedly, Shiro came to mind. “Patience yields focus”. If he was patient for a little while longer he could focus once they got home.

  Shopping the way Lance had driven into him and Shiro, Keith shopped in bulk. Gradually a plan came to mind, but he was going to seriously need Hunk’s help to pull it off. The first meal he’d mostly cooked alone for the both of them was pizza. He’d made a mess of things, yet Lance still complimented him in his own way

“Hunk, I’ve... um... got an idea”

Hunk placed back the bag of onions he’d been staring at

“Shoot away”

“Can you show me how to make pizza from scratch?”

“Pizza? I thought you wanted to spoil Lance?”

Hunk made it sound awful, yet Lance loved cheesy things... He have to save that and use that... cheesy pizza for a cheesy vampire

“I... um... it was one of the first things we made together”

  Had this been a cartoon, Hunk would have had love hearts in his eyes

“Oh, bro! I’ve totally got you. We’ll make him the best pizza ever!”

Hunk loved love as much as Lance. He knew he could count on him, but Keith wasn’t sure his own efforts would be up to scratch

“I’m not sure that’s possible”

Hunk snorted at him, picking up another bag of onions to start scrutinising

“Pfft. You’re getting the Hunk crash course. Nothing will go wrong”

  As Keith watched the way Hunk stared at the onions, he realised he hadn’t asked the man a very important question

“Hunk, are you okay?”

The bag of onions went back, Hunk picking up another one. Keith wasn’t seeing whatever Hunk was seeing, but he didn’t know the signs or symptoms of a bad onion like Hunk did

“Hmm?”

“I don’t seem to remember a lot of that day... but... I haven’t asked you how you’re going. With... all of this. It’s a lot for anyone”

“You and Lance...”

  Keith shook his head. This wasn’t about him and Lance. Hunk and Pidge were humans... he’d been human, but he had a whole other set of skills and years of experience

“That’s not what I’m asking. I know you came to visit me... you and Pidge. I’m sorry I didn’t wake up”

Hunk shifted his weight, free hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck

“Dude, you were in a coma... you have an excuse”

That wasn’t it. He’d failed this hard. A blush in his cheeks as his ego grew annoyed at him

“It’s because of you and Pidge that Shiro escaped and Lance got help. You guys really helped. I know it’s not the same as a fighting a demon, but, um... What I’m trying to say is, it’s okay to not be okay. If you feel like you were useless, you weren’t. Watching on the sidelines is hard. We really would have been screwed without you guys”

  Placing the bag of onions in the shopping trolley, Hunk let out a long sigh

“It was rough buddy. Lance tried really har to be okay when we came to visit. But he wasn’t. Then Shiro and Lance weren’t talking. We didn’t want to pick sides, and Lance told us not to, but he was crushed. We felt useless. The two of you were prepared to face a demon. We couldn’t do anything like that”

He’d known it. Being unable to act fucking sucked, but he and Lance couldn’t techno-babble like Hunk and Pidge could. They’d have only hindered things

“You don’t have to. And I don’t want you to. You’re important to me. Both you guys”

“None of got it. You were like... fine. Then next thing you’re in surgery and won’t wake up. We thought we’d lose you forever, Bud”

“Do you hate what I’ve become?”

  Hunk shook his head, his eyes watery. Hunk really was sunshine in their lives

“No. No, you’re still you. A bit different but a lot the same. Shiro was really torn up. His arm was a mess, Curtis was in and out of it, but he lost it at the thought of you not waking. He blamed himself. He didn’t exactly help things either. I got it out of Allura, but she says that he said he’d take care of Lance. Like in your place if you didn’t wake up. Not boyfriend’s, but you know, like financially. Lance was pissed”

“If there’s one thing Lance hates, it’s being treated like a damsel in distress”

“We were really worried for him. We didn’t know he didn’t know about your condition and they kicked us out because we upset him”

“He cares too much”

Hunk huffed at him

“Dude, we all care too much. We’re family. You’re our family. And like... we didn’t know what to do if you didn’t wake up. He lost Mami... and I know it’s selfish but I prayed you’d wake up so we wouldn’t lose him too”

  Lance would be broken if anything happened to any of them

“It’s not selfish. I would have been wishing for the same thing. He loves you guys. I didn’t get it. How he could love and trust. But he just has a way about him. The people he likes, he really likes. He was probably a nightmare to deal with”

“Man, you have no idea. Pidge upset him by saying she was on his side. We couldn’t even... We let him down”

“Hunk, I’m sure that’s not true”

“He came out to tell us you’d woken up... and he... we were so upset that we didn’t move to comfort him. Allura did what we couldn’t”

You never knew how you were going to react to grief or bad news. Hunk and Pidge weren’t used to it. They hadn’t seen what he had, and Allura had

“She is like a sister to him. Thank you for being there for him”

  Never shy of a hug, Hunk wrapped his arms around him, lifting Keith off the ground then setting him back down

“Sorry, man! Was that too much?”

A little. Definitely when people were already talking about him...

“Nah. You sure you got the right bag of onions?”

Hunk took a moment, before looking to the bag

“Oh, yeah. Gotta be careful not to get the ones with a rotten onion”

“How can you tell?”

“If they’re brown, or grey, and squashy, they don’t want to come home with you”

But the onions had skin and the skin was brown?

“Onions are brown?”

“My man, for the sake of our friendship, I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that”

Keith wrinkled his nose at the bag

“It’s not my fault I don’t know the difference. They smell...”

Hunk didn’t miss a beat

“Yep. They smell delicious with a little bit of olive oil and garlic in a pan”

   With three wolves to consider, the shopping trolley ended up overfilled. Matt and Rieva getting minimal treats due to the ongoing saga of the rice. Hunk had helped him find the “self care” part of the isle, Keith grabbing two of each face mask, which sounded more impressive if you didn’t take into account the fact there was only three types to choose from. Hunk also pointed out Lance’s preferred wax for doing his eyebrows, and the hand cream Lance found worked best. With the amount of mating his body wanted to do, Keith stocked up on lube and condoms, then wet wipes for afterwards. After all, Lance didn’t like being crusty. The large half-Samoan a godsend, especially when Keith got caught staring at the meat blood in the bottom of a tray of mince. The blood would probably be worse for Lance than the bags he drank.

  Keith hadn’t realised he probably looked weird examining the tray. Yet it wasn’t simply the blood issue that had him staring. He wanted to bury his face in the mince and eat raw, which totally grossed him out. Hunk pulling the tray away from him, giving him such a concerned look that Keith couldn’t not tell him that Coran wanted Lance drinking fresh blood. A little grossed out, but with a truck load of courage, Hunk volunteered his own blood. Lance had drunk his blood before. It’d solve more than one issue... His ego instantly hated the idea. If Lance was to feed off of everyone, it should be him. He was his mate. So turning Hunk down felt both right and wrong at the same time. He hated these conflicted feelings.

  Things were going well until they finally reached the queue for the checkout. Having a stranger bump into him, his fingernails turned to claws as he barely kept from body slamming the person down. Realising how close he’d come, Keith was filled with horror. A scratch or a bite and he’d have turned them. Too much rage and he would have mauled them. Who would have stopped him? Hunk? Hunk would be the first casualty after the altercation. His loving ways would have made him blind... or maybe he would have tried to save the victim’s life as Keith tore both of them to shreds... He’d tried so hard to keep his temper. He’d chewed up the inside of his mouth to keep his rage from escaping. The humming of the fluorescent lights above left an unscratchable itch beneath his skin. Fumbling his phone and his wallet out his hoodie, he shoved them both into Hunk’s hands, fleeing before his friend could question if he was okay or not.

   Carried by momentum, and the need to be somewhere so many people weren’t, Keith nearly managed to get himself hit as he stepped off the pavement in front of a car that was parking. Darting past them, he didn’t want to be in town in more. He wanted Lance. Too scared of himself to care about the consequences of leaving Hunk behind. He’d been stupid to come to town. To think he would blend in. To think that he had some semblance of control over his ego. Before he knew it, he’d cut through the park in the centre of town, his rushing turning to running. Everyone left him. No one would want to stay with him. Not when he couldn’t control himself.

    *

Lance had spent the better half an hour driving around Garrison in the search for his boyfriend, before he finally found Keith. He’d woken when he’d heard Hunk pull up, the slamming of the passenger door startling out of his sleep. Listening to Keith and Hunk making plans to go shopping, Lance worried for Keith, yet knew if Keith wanted to go he shouldn’t stick his nose in.

  Wracking his brains, Lance didn’t know the route Keith too when he’d gone with Matt and Rieva. If Keith was avoiding people, then he wouldn’t be headed to Platt. If anything had gotten too much, he’d want to go where no one went, yet somewhere he knew enough to get home from. Looping through Garrison, Lance hit up all the places they’d visited in their past, each crossed off the list as he cursed himself for his stupidity. People. No people. Hunk had been panicked when he’d called, apologising over and over, Lance sending him to the house to wait with the promise Hunk would call if Keith showed up. Then he remembered. The cemetery. No one was there. And if Keith was feeling down, it was logical, to him at least, he’d go somewhere they’d made good memories to overthink things.

   Parking at the front of the cemetery, Keith was sitting sadly on the closest bench. Having to slide out his bronco as he tried to suck his stomach in, it really wasn’t made for a heavily pregnant man to be driving around

“Keith?”

Snapping his head up, tears were running down Keith’s face. In his hands were the pair of glasses Lance had lent him, smashed beyond repair. Going to stand, Keith slumped back down as he let out a sob. Lance’s heart breaking at the sight. He should have just gotten up and stuck his nose in.

  Waddling to his boyfriend, Keith looked away, Lance sitting down next to him. No matter how much his little anger loaf was angsting, he wasn’t about to leave Keith to his misery. His boyfriend had terrified him by taking off. He’d been scared to begin with, when Keith hadn’t taken off. He was good at that... but then, so was Lance

“Hey, you”

“What do you want?”

“Me? Oh, just thought I’d come hang out with the other stiffs when I saw this super handsome guy sitting here”

Keith snorted wetly at him. His whole body curling in. Whatever Keith was thinking, he’d well and truly overthought it

“Babe, want to tell me what happened?”

“Why? You already know”

  Biting down a sigh, Lance wrapped his arm around Keith, pulling him against him

“Ego or overstimulation?”

Bitterly Keith muttered

“I’m a fucking monster”

“It was your first shopping trip”

“It’s not that! It’s everything! You don’t get it!”

Hurling the broken pair of glasses away, they hit the side of the Bronco. A pretty good throw as far as Lance was concerned

“Then tell me. Hunk said a stranger bumped into you and you freaked out. I’ve spent the last half hour trying to find you”

“You should have left me lost. I’m such a fuck up that it’s not even funny”

  This time Lance did sigh

“You are not a fuck up. I know you’re angry right now, but I’m here because I want to be. Tell me what happened?”

Keith huffed as he shoved him off. Getting to his feet, his boyfriend threw his hands up

“What didn’t fucking happen?! I fucked you! I didn’t want to stop fucking you! Coran said that my ego wants to please you! I’m supposed to do nice things for you! I don’t know how to do nice things! Everything feels like I’m fucking using you! I tried to go shopping with Hunk and everyone was rude as fuck! Some fucking arsehole bumped into me and I wanted to tear his fucking throat out! Why don’t you leave me already?! Everyone one else does! What makes you so fucking special?!”

  All of it came out as yelled word vomit, Keith trying to get every thought out at once so they were all halted when it came to explanation. How did he untangle this? Keith was mad they had sex? Okay. He could work this out. Keith was feeling what he felt whenever his damn heat hit, or symptoms decided to creep up like the unwanted bastards they were. Keith didn’t like his ego... He knew that. As for people in his personal space, he wasn’t immune to it

“Keith, come sit down”

“Why should I? I wanted to hurt that guy and I don’t even know them!”

  Lance looked at “Keith’s Scary Face”. Fangs, yellowing eyes... still handsome and the man he loved. He’d definitely drawn the short straw when it came to scary faces

“You don’t think I haven’t the same? That I welcome people in my space? Someone gets close to you and I want to hurt them. Someone bumps into me and my ego instantly sees them a threat. The fact you didn’t turn, that’s a good sign. It was your first time and you’re not going to get everything perfect on the first try”

“What if I’d lost it? What if hurt Hunk?! You don’t...”

  Not this shit again. No. Nope. Noooo. He’d had enough of hearing it. Keith was freaking the fuck out... like he’d never seen Lance freak the fuck out over the same kind of things... His anger loaf needed to be smacked

“I couldn’t possibly get it, could I? I’m well aware. You’ve been repeatedly telling me. The fact you haven’t run off must mean you’re willing to talk, at least with me. Hunk’s at home. You’re making more sense than you think you are, and there’s no one else going to come find us here. Now sit down and start from the start”

  Keith scowled at him before sighing heavily and throwing himself back down next to Lance. Taking Keith’s hand in his, he interlaced their fingers so Keith couldn’t go escaping again, his boyfriend shaking his head as he looked to his feet

“I think I’m going crazy”

“Tell me what happened?”

“You. You happened. I felt like I used you yesterday and last night because I was horny and couldn’t calm down. When I rang Coran, he wasn’t much help. He said it’s my ego and it’s probably trying to make it up to you for not spending the moon with you. I know I like doing nice things for you, but he said if I did it’d also help with my ego and I felt like I was using you all over again. I don’t want to do nice things because my ego tells me to. I want to do nice things because I love you”

  Lance’s ego damn near swooned. Keith was so sincere in his worry

“Is that why you went to town with Hunk?”

“Coran mentioned that grooming was a thing we could do and I have no idea how to make a face mask or what to do. So I thought I’d get a few things and do some shopping, but it was horrible. Everyone kept whispering about us. The lights were too bright... and there were so many smells”

“Oh, babe. Hey, you can’t help being overwhelmed”

“But... I... I really wanted to do this. And do this right. Hunk helped me out picking things out. Then when that guy bumped into me...”

Lance pulled Keith firmly against him as his boyfriend shook with a fresh wave of tears

“You got scared because of the sudden burst of anger...”

“I don’t know what I was thinking... I’m a monster. I wanted to...”

“Babe. No. Hey. You are not a monster. That was your ego. You couldn’t help it. You should be proud you tried. It took Mami months to coax me into coming places with her. It’s not easy. You see too much. You hear too much. Things smell way too much”

“But you...”

  Kissing Keith’s hair, he couldn’t fix this for is boyfriend. He wished like heck he could

“I’ve been a vampire for a very long time. Scents, people, lights, they all still get to me. Especially being pregnant. The paranoia of people staring. People judging. It sucks. It really really sucks. But you know what, they don’t know me. They aren’t my friends so I’m not going to worry about them”

“I hate this. I don’t want to pick fights...”

“I know. Small towns are horrendous when it comes to rumours. And I know you hate what they say as much as I do, but we can work on things to help you get used to everything again”

“We shouldn’t have to. If I’d never had this brain bleed... you wouldn’t have to babysit me”

“Is it still babysitting the person when you love them? Babe, how many times have you told me it’s okay when my heats play up? How many times have we had sex where I’m sorry for forcing my messed up body on you? Every single time you tell me it’s okay. It’s okay that you’re feeling them too. It’s okay to want me. I don’t hate you and I don’t feel used because this is something we’re working through together. Think about all the inappropriate times and places it’s happened. You stood up for me and defended me. You protected me when I couldn’t look after myself. You pushed yourself out of your comfort zone to be with me. Both our egos have issues. You’re not using me. I want to do nice things with you. I want to do things that make you and your ego feel good too. I know you love me and respect me”

  Keith raised his head

“You’ve been so tired lately. I felt like I pushed you too much”

If anything Lance was sleeping more because of his pregnancy, not stressing over Keith because he’d been doing that for months now

“I’m tired because I have to get up and pee like 10 times a night. These two seem to think my bladder is their personal trampoline”

“Coran says you need fresh blood... I don’t know if I can give you my blood or if it’s going to hurt the twins”

  With how much blood had passed between them, and the biting and the scratching, if anything bad was going to happen to the twins it probably would have happened all ready

“We’ll work something out. You’re taking so much on. Trying to be perfect with everything the first time around. Life doesn’t work like that. I know you’ve been comparing yourself to Matt. Thinking you must be weak because he’s calm, but think about when we first met? Think about how we had to fight to settle both our egos. I’ve been thinking about this just now and I think I’ve worked something out. Coran said to do things to help your ego settle. Matt and Rieva do things too. Rieva takes pride in her appearance and she loves her books. Matt is a tech genius and a tinkerer. That’s probably what they do to soothe theirs. They play on your strengths”

  Keith’s head dropped

“What if I don’t have any strengths?”

“You do. You’re kind. You help people. You save lives. But I know you’re not working right now, so maybe you can concentrate on the strength of our feelings for each other? On our family? Vampires don’t take mates, but I already knew I wanted to be with you forever before this. Plus... it’s... kind of nice that you want me, even when I look like this. You make me feel so loved. I just wish you’d see that it’s a two way street. I adore you. You’ve seen me lose it to my ego when you’ve been hurt or threatened. Egos aren’t tameable over night. I know you don’t like taking it slow, but I’ll be right beside you”

“What if I can never go shopping again?”

“You didn’t love it that much in the first place, babe. Never is a strong word. Next time I’ll be with you”

“You can’t always be with me”

“No. But baby steps, babe. I love you. I’m proud to be your boyfriend. That hasn’t changed. This set back, doesn’t change anything. You told me time and time again that I’m not a monster. If you really were a monster, you wouldn’t feel as bad as you do”

  Keith chuckled at him

“Have I ever told you how annoying it is that your right most of the time?”

Lance kissed Keith’s hair again. His anger loaf was so sweet

“Yep. You really worry too much. Yes, I’m exhausted, but I’m nervous and terrified too. Every day is a day closer to giving to birth. I’m so scared about being a bad dad, but I know I have the best partner in the world to help me through it. We’ve got time. Let’s not rush it”

“I scared Hunk”

“Maybe, but when we explain and talk things out, he’ll understand. He’s not going to stop being your friend because you’re going through a rough time”

“I got freaked thinking I’d hurt him”

Lance remembered that feeling. He’d never consciously physically harm their friends, yet he could remember every single time he’d scared them

“Tell him that. You helped me be more honest with him and Pidge. You refused to let me give up hope that we’d be friends again after Pidge found out my true nature. You’re my rock. I would love to do things with you. And I love the things we do. I don’t think you know, but I love snuggling into you when we’re watching a movie. We don’t have to be talking. Just having you alive and beside me, it makes me really stupidly happy. You make me happy”

  Keith finally moved to hug him properly, raising his head his boyfriend pressed a kiss to his lips. Lance would happily take every single kiss from Keith until they were old and wrinkled... if he got old and wrinkled...

“You make me happy too. I’m sorry about the accident...”

“It was freak thing”

“I feel like I should known the lingering headache wasn’t a good thing”

“You didn’t know. I’ve replayed that over and over in my head. How one incident could nearly take you away. All I can come up with is that you’re not as thick headed as you like people to think”

“At least it’s... um... confirmed I have a brain”

“You have a very nice brain. And a very nice rest of you”

Tentatively, Keith joked back

“You’re not too bad for a corpse”

“And you’re not too bad for a dog”

Keith huffed, ego ruffled

“I’m a wolf”

  The more Keith said, the more comfortable he’d be. Lance prepared to start googling good werewolf jokes for the future, but for now he was happy Keith was smiling

“And a very charming one at that. You’re quite beautiful as a wolf in a scary kind of way”

“What do I look like?”

“You’re big and black... and clumsy. You’re a bit like Kosmo, your paws are massive, but you’re still very soft”

“Coran said I came to find when I’d turned”

“You did. You sat outside and cried and cried. You were so clumsy that I thought you were hurt”

“I couldn’t have been that bed”

“Think of Kosmo when he had his thermometer up his butt. He was all stiff legged and looked like he’d never recover”

Keith groaned

“I can’t even be a manly werewolf”

“Nope. Still, you got there. I’ll have to take a photo next time... maybe I can try grooming you too?”

Keith rolled his eyes

“I’m not a dog, babe”

“Excuse you. I’ll have you know I’m an excellent groomer. We can put a bow in your hair... I wonder if they make onesies for wolves...”

  Keith frowned with a pout. Lance stealing a kiss. If the Blades didn’t want their agents teased they should have thought about that before assigning them all onesies to wear. The realisation hit him, a giggle escaping. Arching an eyebrow at him, Keith didn’t seem amused

“What?”

“Kolivan. Babe, all these years... Kolivan has been running around in a onesie!”

Personally Lance found it hilarious. Stoic, somewhat scary, straight-laced Kolivan... in a onesie. Covering his mouth, Lance’s giggle turned to laughter. Keith tried to resist the urge, but obviously now the thought was in his head and he couldn’t get it out

“That’s terrible! Babe... noooo”

“It’s still true! Oh my god... I wonder if they know?”

“It’s not a onesie, it’s a suit”

Kolivan in a onesie that looked like a suit... Lance shook with laughter... shit, now he needed to pee. Fanning his face, he tried to suck down a breath

“Time out! Time out... oh god... I have to pee”

“You did it to yourself”

“I know. Okay, I’m sorry, but unless you want me to pee right here, we’re going home”

“You could pee on the side of the road?”

“And I could pee on your foot. You can drive. My car hates me”

“What did it do?”

“It’s too much like effort to get behind the steering wheel... I don’t need something else trying to make me pee”

“So I shouldn’t tell you I wanted to make pizza for dinner? A cheesy pizza for a cheesy vampire”

  That was sweet rather than funny. Keith was very sweet to him.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 15: Let’s Eat Our Words

Lance has a talk with his father.

First  Previous  Next

Lance is almost certain that Keith isn’t joining them for dinner. He’s currently hiding in his loft after a courtier asked him to his face if he was pregnant yet. Lance had politely yet firmly asked them to leave, but the damage had been done, and his exceptionally shy spouse had asked to be excused. Lance had readily agreed, letting the prince go off to rub his ears or whatever. In all truth, Lance would have gone after him to ensure he was alright, but he suspected that Keith had genuinely wanted to be alone.

It can’t feel good, Lance suspects, to be told to your face that you’re a commodity, only there to serve one purpose and he'd better do it fast before they've had it with him. Lance wants to do more to make Keith feel like a whole person.

“So… Father.” Lance looks up from his dinner.

“Yes, Lance?” Alfor glances up from his datapad -because the kings are allowed datapads at the table- and looks at his son. “What is it?”

It’s the first time in a phoeb that Lance has spoken directly to his father outside of work. “I have a favor to ask.”

“I’m listening.” Alfor slides the datapad to Coran, letting Lance know his attention is undivided. Lance appreciates, treasures that. He only has slivers of memories where Alfor felt like a father. He knows they both have regrets.

“Winter is coming soon. I would like to go hunting before that happens.” Lance pauses. “I’d like to take Keith with me. Just us.”

“Your reasoning?”

“I thought it might be good for us to get away together. Meet some of the people. See something nice. He still doesn’t like it here. I thought if he saw more of it-”

“Saw the brothels, you mean? Absolutely not, Lancel. That wasn’t acceptable behavior before and now I must put my foot down-”

“Keith is a kit. I would never take him to the brothels. This exchange has been traumatizing enough, I think. Rather, I might take him to the florist, since he seems to like plants, the glass-smith to see about some windchimes, and perhaps to visit Hunk, since he's my friend and very friendly and it might do Keith some good in addition to providing an opportunity to thank Hunk for providing him with food he can actually eat. Furthermore, there are a few places in the woods I think he might enjoy. Especially the grotto, as he says he likes to swim. The point is that this is meant to be his home, but it's more like his prison.” Lance sits back in his chair, glaring at his father, challenging him to argue.

Alfor’s face shifts are the mention of the grotto, where he taught both his children to swim. The king regards his son, his youngest child. He still looks like a boy. A wounded, angry one, after his comment.

“Forgive me, son. I was quite unfair. I can see that you have put a great deal of thought into this, and into Keith's well-being. I will make sure your duties are taken care of if you wish to take Keith around, but I must ask that you take an afternoon or a morning at a time, and work the rest. It’s far more manageable.”

“Shall we also restrict our excursions to every other quintant as well?”

“Please. I agree that it would be beneficial for him, but-”

“The people come first. Of course. However, may we have the afternoon tomorrow, while Hunk is off?”

Alfor smiles at his son. Lance has been working hard to catch up with the work he’s been letting slide for the past five decaphoebs. He’s making progress, at which point his workload should become more manageable. Then one quintant, he will be crowned king and once again be overworked. Judging by what the Listener has said, Lance still does not understand how valuable progeny is. He will if he gets to be Alfor’s age and still has no children. Even with children, a king's burden is nothing to sneeze at. The fact that his son is all but a stranger to him is testament to that.

But he’s getting ahead of himself. Lance is young, boyish in many, many ways. An adult by law and responsibility, but a boy in most everything else. His spouse, his husband, is literally a boy, old enough, but not at all an adult.

Alfor won’t admit it to anyone but Coran, but he had assumed that, given ‘Lord Yorak’s’ age, he would be mostly grown out of his kitten ways. Instead, to his genuine heartbreak and regret, Keith has not at all grown out of his adolescence, and apparently will not until his final growth spurt.

“Go on. Take him to meet Hunk. I suspect they’ll get along. Perhaps he’ll spend more time with Hunk in the kitchens instead of hiding or wandering aimlessly.”

“I’ll show him how to find the kitchens and Pidge. He likes Pidge. And I need to threaten the guards with clerical duties if they don't stop ignoring him when he tries to talk to them.”

“I shall threaten them as well. And good. I’m glad he likes someone… Do you think he would prefer having his own room?”

“No. It would be worse. He won’t sleep if he’s on his own. He sleeps next to me. A lot of times, I help him fall asleep…” Lance’s eyes find his face. “You didn’t know, did you? Exactly how young he was.”

Intuitive. Lance is intuitive. He has that power of perception that Alfor himself lacks. Taking a second to commit that fact to memory, Alfor clings to it, tries to stretch it out, inflate it until it fills the space where a father-child bond should be.

“I knew. I just didn’t know what it would mean for him. I’m sorry, Lance.” Alfor puts a hand on his son’s arm. “Thank you for taking good care of him.”

“I like him. He deserves better than this.”

“I agree, he does. But the deed is done, and now we must simply do everything we can, starting by helping him feel more comfortable here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Keith trails in a minute later, bathed and dressed. Seems he’s feeling better. He and Coran exchange greetings as he slides into his seat next to Lance. Lance lightly tugs on the end of the Galra’s braid. Keith seems baffled and a little defensive at Lance’s handling, but he relaxes when he sees Lance’s smile, smiles as Lance murmurs some reassuring word.

Alfor sighs in relief. At least the two seem to be getting along.

[fangirlauthor]

A Rip in Time - Chapter Four

Hello! Here’s chapter four, it’s also posted on ao3 (there should be a link to this fic in my masterpost)

Preparing for an attack that’s already happening isn’t easy. It means you’re behind, on the defense, at a disadvantage. Fortunately, they have Voltron and the Atlas - which means they’re almost on the same playing field as their enemies. Why almost? Because if a team is only as strong as its weakest member, then their team isn’t strong at all. Of course, Matt, Shiro, and the Paladins had known this from the get-go; they weren’t expecting their past selves to understand and be equipped to deal with the things they would end up facing. 

Unfortunately, knowing beforehand they would be at a disadvantage wasn’t helpful in any sense. In fact, some Atlas crewmembers started underperforming - anxiety makes people do that. Fortunately, Shiro was able to keep them calm enough to get everything setup, but there was no way he could’ve prepared so their past selves would stay completely calm. 

“Shiro, I’m going to help Matt get the comm viewer set up and get people in safe locations.” Pidge grabbed a small bag from the cargo bay of her lion before strapping her helmet onto her belt and heading outside. 

“Copy that. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Pidge said before muttering to herself. “I’m going to need it.”

“Katie!” Matt, long haired and tall, was standing just outside her lion, in front of a crowd of people who were busy gawking. 

Pidge tried to scowl mockingly, but ended up smiling anyway. “You didn’t last very long without me here to help you out, did you?”

Matt huffed. “I was doing fine, thank you. No help was needed.”

“Really? Because you looked half dead when I got here. Also, there’s a dead looking, purple version of younger Iverson lying on the ground behind you.”

Matt whirled around. “What?! Why is he purple?”

Pidge rolled her eyes as she walked over to the crowd in front of the building containing the debriefing room. “I think it’s because that’s a Galra shifter who convinced you they were Iverson.” 

“Wait, what-”

Pidge glanced up at the sky as several Galra attack ships were shot down by a blue lion. “We have to hurry. Matt, come on. We don’t have much time.”

Jogging to keep up with her, Matt said, “What do we need to do?” 

“I need to get something set up in the debriefing room. I’m going to need a wide-lense camera that can stream things, and I’m going to need it hooked up to the ongoing stream.” She glanced at him. “You did start the stream, right?”

“I- I think so? It should be started, I asked someone to start it, but that whole thing with Iverson-”

“Ugh. You are so annoying. Figure it out, then get the past versions of me, the other paladins, Shrio, dad, you, Adam, whoever you think necessary, I don’t care - into the debriefing room. Oh, and make sure the other Garrison workers know to get inside and take precautionary measures like they would if bombs were being dropped in the area.”

Matt scrunched his nose. They were almost to the crowd. “That sounds like a lot of work, what exactly are you going to be doing?”

“I’m going to be setting up the comms viewer in the debriefing room and-” she stopped as people in the crowd started screaming. Pivoting on her heel to find several Galra foot soldiers approaching, she drew her bayard. Instead of her normal hand-to-hand combat weapon, it took the form of a small pistol, which she used to shoot several of the soldiers before they were close enough for her to use her normal weapon. 

Pidge turned to find Matt staring at her, hands in his pockets. Slowly, once he saw that she was looking at him, he took his hands out of his pockets and tapped his wrist where a watch would be. Rolling her eyes, Pidge nudged an unconscious Galra soldier with her foot before running to catch up with Matt. 

“Tie them up or something so they won’t kill you when they wake up!” she yelled to a Garrison guard as they passed by. Ignoring the shocked stares she and Matt got as they ran toward the building, she said, “That’s what else I’ll be doing.” 

Matt huffed again. “The workload still feels a little unfair to me.”

“Deal with it.” Pidge ran toward the debriefing room. “And deal with it quickly.”

Matt turned toward the crowd as the crowd turned to him - most of it anyway. The rest were busy staring at the space battle going on above their heads. 

“Hey!” Everyone looked at Matt. “If you aren’t Shiro, Adam, Sam Holt, uh, Matt Holt, Katie Holt, Keith, Lance,  or Hunk, then go ahead and take standard air raid precautions. If you are one of those people, get to the debriefing room.” The crowd blinked at him. “Quickly.”

----

“Why isn’t there a plug? There needs to be a plug!” Pidge kicked a chair as a small group of people walked in, some of them very young, all of them familiar faces. 

“Is everything alright? Do you need help?” 

“I’m good, dad. Besides, you haven’t been kidnapped and sent to an alien scientist work camp yet, so I doubt you’d be much help.”

Sam nodded, his eyes distant and confused. “Okay.”

“You all good, Katie?” Long-haired Matt walked into the room holding a small bag which presumably had the camera in it. 

“Yup, all good. Just a few more seconds and I’ll have the comm viewer up and running.”

“What’s a comm viewer?” little Hunk asked, young Lance, Keith, and Katie nodding in agreement with his question. 

“It’s a thing, that does a thing, that lets you see things.” Pidge yelped as something shocked her. 

“...what?” asked Adam, confused. 

Matt finished tying his hair back and stepped in to explain. “She means it’s a device that lets you listen in on comm conversations while seeing the people in question.” He glanced at Pidge’s setup. “I’m guessing that this one is going to let you see all or most of the people at once, instead of just showing who’s talking.” 

Pidge nodded. “Exactly. That’s what I said.”

Matt smiled and rolled his eyes. “Yup. Exactly what you said.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before Pidge said, “There!” as several displays popped up in front of them. On one, four small-ish icons could be seen, showing every paladin in their lion except Pidge, because she was currently in the room. On another, Shiro, with a full head of white hair and a scar across his face, could be seen. On the third, a view of the battle was visible. 

Once Pidge turned the volume up, indistinguishable shouting could be heard as each person shot at enemies and warned friends of foes. 

“What-” said Shiro, watching himself on the screen. “What do we do now? Also.” he whirled toward long-haired Matt. “Is that why you made a joke about an arm?”

Matt was saved from answering as Pidge said, “Now I call my lion. That’s when the real fun begins.”

[fantisci]

Why Allurance Didn’t Work (for me): Part 2

EDIT: Someone asked for a link to Part 1, which I forgot to include - oops!

Part 1

Extremely late with this (summer really, really hates me), but I’m posting this for the sake of continuity - I’ll probably edit, revise and stick it all in one huge post once I’m done, but I need to feel like I’ve made some progres 

R-E-S-P-E-C-T…and lack thereof:

This wasn’t shown as a “toxic” relationship (Tumblr’s favourite buzzword), but it was an unhealthy one for one very big reason: the serious difference in respect that these two had for each other, and that fact that neither of them had a particularly healthy level of respect. In short: Lance respected Allura to the point he put her on a pedestal, and that’s not healthy; Allura had nowhere near that amount of respect for Lance and always regarded him as somewhat inferior, and that is also unhealthy.

Allura respected Lotor. He was an equal. She listened to what he had to say, and took suggestions from him without letting him walk over her. Even when what he was proposing was dangerous, or may have set off a few alarm bells in her head, she heard him out and, more often than not, agreed to try it.

Allura also respected Shiro. She admired his bravery and intelligence; there was never any doubt in her mind that he was the field leader. Even when they clashed, Allura never dismissed Shiro’s opinions – she may have overridden them, but she did so knowing that he had a valid point and was unlikely to be dissuaded.

By contrast, Lance pleads with her not to kill herself, and she brushes him off.

It’s never explored, but I think a big part of this is the fact that both Lotor and Allura were royalty, while Shiro was clearly a captain from the get-go, and had the paw of the Black Lion on his shoulder to prove it. Allura had already decided that Lance could never understand the burden of royalty/leadership, and never gave him a chance to. But…not to be too hard on our badly-mistreated space queen, but I’m willing to bet that being royalty also made Allura consider Lance below her in rank: he is, after all, “just a boy from Cuba”. (Arguably, there are even traces of this in Allura/Shiro interactions – he is very much a highly valued and respected Captain of the Guard, but definitely not a prince.) We never see Allura defer to Lance in places where she probably should (he tries to teach her about Blue for weeks, but she ignores him). She likes the comfort he offers when she’s made a mistake, but won’t take his advice when it could help her dodge one of those mistakes. She humours him, but doesn’t take his concerns seriously. She likes the security of the family he has in tow, but never looks particularly delighted to see Lance himself. She shows some signs of appreciating Lance in Season 7, but by Season 8 I’m left with the distinct impression that she was badgered into going out with him. She cares for him, absolutely! She just…doesn’t really respect him.

And given the state Lance’s self esteem is in, that’s absolutely lethal. Lance badly needed a partner who saw value in him. Not someone to boost his ego and bravado, but who genuinely believed in him, enjoyed his company, and didn’t view him as the consolation prize (note: this is a relatively low bar, Voltron writers, and Allura could easily have been the one to hop over it if you hadn’t been so obsessed with making the two of them suffer). To make a truly healthy relationship, it also had to be someone who was better for Lance being there – a relationship where Lance was bringing something to the table that was valuable and unique to him. But Lance can’t buffer Allura’s self-destructive tendencies – all he can do is hang on while it all falls apart.

Then bring in Lance’s worship of Allura. She can do no wrong in his eyes; if Allura says it, it must be so (except for the phrase “no, I’m not interested in dating you”, apparently). Yet Lotor also accorded Allura a respect that Lance doesn’t – Lance wants to protect Allura, Lotor encourages her to step forward.

There’s a seriously weird paradox here: Lance’s protectiveness isn’t without reason - as usual, he’s ultimately proven right about Allura’s poor choices and tendency to put herself in danger. After all, Lotor is a scumbag, he is using Allura to achieve his seriously dubious goals, and Allura will do something stupidly and needlessly self-sacrificial. But that’s bad writing, not stupidity on Allura’s part. Any writer reading over this would surely think “Hang on, is it a good idea to have the jealous suitor’s complaints all be proven totally right, or should we go back and rewrite this so that at least he’s basing his opinion on something more than “he’s dating my girl and I don’t like it”?” It’s an easy fix - a scene with Lance happening across Lotor acting suspiciously, or a scene where Lance approaches Allura and explains his concerns honestly and privately. But when it comes to Lotor, instead of Lance as the people-watcher and observer of the team, we get Lance the jealous Romeo.

This is one of the most bizarre problems with Lance’s characterisation as a whole: the writers set him up to look foolish and envious, then they prove him right, then they tell us he’s foolish and envious. His anger with Keith going on the Mamora mission, his doubt that Keith should automatically become the Black Paladin, his mistrust of Lotor…all of these are totally justified concerns. While Shiro never apologises for favouritism, both Keith and Allura acknowledge that Lance was correct in his assessment of the situation. But they fail to join up the dots and explicitly confirm this as Lance’s role in the roster. Nobody ever gives Lance his place as the socially aware “heart” of the team – the writers explicitly give that title (and Lion) to Allura, and have Lance himself praise her for it. (For my part, Lance is the Heart, Shiro is the Head and Allura is the Soul of the team…but that’s yet another tangent). Five minutes after someone has pointed out Lance Was Right, the status quo must be restored: he’ll do something immature, or you can count on Keith, Pidge or Hunk doing something thoughtless to Lance in the name of comic relief. Then the audience is expected to laugh along, and Lance’s self esteem continues to spiral.

That said, I am in no way saying that Allura had to “fix” Lance – that’s not her job. So…kudos for avoiding the “girl helps insecure guy find himself via unfair division of emotional labour”, but those kudos are immediately revoked for doing “guy desperately tries to stop girl’s spiral into self-destruction via unfair division of emotional labour, only to fail and end up with a dead girlfriend and endless angst.” (This, incidentally, is tied to Lance being “The Chick” of Voltron – but, yet again, we’ll get into that later.)

[panda-noosh]

in the morning, we will see {Pidge x Reader}{The Rockstar Series}

The Rockstar Series: a series of fics documenting rockstar!Voltron falling in love.

Words: 9.9k

Summary: What a coincidence that you and Pidge are both having an identity crisis at the same time; the only difference is, Pidge is a rock star, and you’re a bartender.

Genre: angst

Warning: mentions of anxiety - mentions of drinking

Notes: masterlist - buy me a coffee! - this got so ... personal? like i projected my own issues with anxiety into this character and i don’t really know how it happened yeet. 

---

    Pidge didn't mean to become a rock star.

   This is a fact that not many people believe when she tells them. They question how a person can be thrown into such a world entirely by accident. It's the kind of job that requires commitment, a life-long dream, a lifetime of experience and wishing. In the movies, that's always how it's laid out – the person picks up a guitar one day and immediately their one goal in life is to get on stage and make music.

   Pidge wasn't like that.

   She picked up her guitar at the age of nine just for the fun of it, and that was all it remained for a good portion of her teenage years; she would learn new songs, smile when she mastered them, and then swiftly move on to something else. She never itched to get her fingers back against the frets, never woke up in a cold sweat because she just had to write this specific riff down on paper.

  To Pidge, music was a casual hobby that she used to fight off boredom.

  However, she had friends who were of the opposite side of the spectrum, Lance being the most passionate of them all. For as long as Pidge could remember, Lance McClain was trying to form a band. He sang, but Pidge always had the impression that he cared more for the money and the female attention than anything else.

  Nonetheless, she tried to support him. When he asked, she would provide a nice little tune for him to sing along to, but she never meant to fall into his trap of actually starting something. She just wanted to help out, but by the time she'd turned seventeen, Lance got a hold of her and had no plans of letting go.

  That was how she came to be part of Smokey Saturdays.

   Her dreams of becoming a programmer were dismissed. She dropped out of college, and her parents supported her decision, because at least she wasn't landing on soft ground. She had a fall-back plan, no matter how unsteady it was in the beginning. She led them to believe that this was what she wanted, what she'd always wanted, and they'd let her go with little to no argument.

  Now she toured.

  She was away from home for months upon months out of the year, dealing with her bandmates bullshit and losing herself to music she didn't even really like; she was an indie listener at heart. This rock vibe that Lance clung onto was something she would never get used to, but something she suffered through because it meant getting her pay check at the end of the day.

  This was a difficult lifestyle to live. It wasn't the kind of thing someone just got used to, considering there was no routine to really get accustomed to in the first place; it only got worse with time, and Pidge was starting to feel those effects.

  She sat with her feet up on Keith's bouncing knee, tuning her guitar as she waited for Lance to return with the news of when they would be going on stage. The dressing area was quiet, Hunk humming to himself in the background, the soft blow of the fan in the corner being the only thing filling in complete silence. Keith was never much of a talker, and Pidge was too far in her own brain to really start a meaningful conversation.

  She wanted to go home.

  She hated thinking like this; it was pointless. She knew she would never go home, not whenever she'd promised everyone else her complete, undivided attention. Despite knowing this, she couldn't quite keep her head out of the gutter, and it was putting a major damper on the mood. She must be the only person in the world who could sit back and listen to thousands of people cheer her name, and still feel down in the dumps.

  Lance arrived with a flourish, bursting through the door with a grin on his face and a hop in his step. Pidge looked up from her guitar; he'd clearly been given good news.

  “We can play next!” he exclaimed. “Is everything ready?” He pointed at Pidge, raising a brow. “That guitar of yours tuned?”

   Pidge held it up as way of response. Despite that not really giving Lance a viable answer, he gave her a thumbs up anyway.

  He span on his heel and slapped Hunk on the back. “You ready, big guy? We've got two new songs to perform tonight, and your drum solo's need to be perfect.”

  “They always are,” said Hunk, before chuckling nervously. “Is there a lot of people out there, do you think?”

  “At least a thousand,” Keith replied casually. Pidge always thought Keith had a bit of social anxiety because of how quiet he was, but the size of crowds was never something that bothered him.

  Hunk paled. “A thousand?”

 “One. Thousand,” Lance whispered, bursting into a grin. “We're really going up in the world, lads. They're out there waiting for us, and we have to deliver!”

  “Which we will, considering you've had us busting our asses for two weeks straight,” said Pidge.

  Lance continued to smile.

  Pidge sighed, looking back down at her guitar. She forced herself to at least be grateful – this life she was living was unbelievable, and it wasn't as if she didn't appreciate it. Every night she asked herself how she'd gotten so lucky, what she had done to stumble into this lifestyle without even really needing nor wanting it.

  But there were some days when she just wanted all of it to end. There were some days where she just wanted to breathe.

  ---

  If this crowd were to get any larger you'd. . . you'd. . . .

  You put your head in your hands, blocking out the sounds of the outside world for the time being.

  Some days, you just wanted to breathe.

   Being an adult was tasking. You'd learned this the hard way; after going through multiple job interviews, being too nervous to really fit for any of them, you'd finally been offered a job as a bartender – the least you job anybody could possibly conjure up.

  In your desperation, you'd said yes.  

  Listen. It was the only choice you had. Things were expensive these days, and as you were thrown into adulthood entirely against your will, you were coming to realise that money was genuinely a thing you needed to take into consideration from time to time. Rent wasn't going to pay itself. Food wasn't just going to magically manifest in your cupboards; you needed to work for that kind of thing.

  The band – Smokey Saturdays – was announced. You nearly rolled your eyes, still not looking up from the cocoon of darkness your hands provided. They had it so easy; they were living their dream, able to perform in front of adoring fans and get paid for it – you thought it was unfair.

  What did they do to deserve such an easy ride through life? Who had they paid?

  Certainly not you, that was for sure. You were too busy working nights at a bar that gave you so much anxiety it was almost dangerous.

   Looking up, you noticed the crowd had started moving. You shuffled a little closer to the shelves behind you, analysing; this was perhaps the largest crowd you'd ever seen in this place. It was almost too large, some people being pressed into walls as the excitement started kicking in and people started jumping around, waving their hands above their heads. The music started, and you nearly scowled at the volume of it – was the crowd cheering not good enough for them? Did they have to have the added ruckus of bad music going on in the background, too?

  The stage was almost entirely obscured by the people jumping in front of it. Craning your neck, you were just able to make out who was playing – all of them were so young. The lead singer was already jumping up and down, yelling the absurd lyrics into the microphone. Behind him, two men were bobbing their heads, less mobile but still enthusiastic.

  And then there was the girl.

  You'd read about her quite a bit – it was difficult these days to not come across some kind of article on Smokey Saturdays and it's members. They were growing quite popular, but Pidge was always the one you took the most interest in. Now, don't get it twisted – you didn't obsess over her. You didn't sit there and read through her biography, screenshotting her Famous Birthdays page – but you would admit that you spent the most time reading about her when she popped up on your phone.

  She came from a fairly small family, from what you'd read. She was intelligent, had a history in both piloting and computer mechanics, as well as a fair bit of engineering. Overall, she was a very ambitious person, and it was clear she enjoyed learning.

  Not once had you read anything on her love for music.

   People shoved that to the side, it seemed. Whilst Keith, Hunk and Lance's biographies were filled with exclamations about how they'd started music at a young age and had always known this was the path they were destined to take, Pidge's was always more focused on her love for. . . other things.

  Looking at her new, you were beginning to see why.

  It wasn't as if she wasn't all in it. She was. Her fingers drifted easily up and down the neck of the guitar, and she was playing beautifully – there was no doubt in your mind that she was a talent when it came to music.

  However, she was almost entirely stationary, bar the slight dip of her knees and bob of her head here and there. Just looking at her made you feel bad for her.

   “Excuse me.”

  Your head snapped up, fake smiling plastering on your face immediately. The man standing in front of you looked slightly annoyed, and you silently cursed the distraction Miss Pidge Gunderson had caused. You needed to shake her out of your mind – she was probably living her dream. You were just thinking much too deeply into things.

  However, even as you served the man and apologised for your daydream, you couldn't help but wonder what was really going on behind the scenes – you desperately wanted to ask, but speaking to a celebrity was so far out of the realm of possibility that you nearly laughed at the mere thought. You'd learned not to get your hopes up – life never really went the way you wanted it to.

  ---

  Pidge needed a drink. Desperately.

  She ordered her manager to get her a couple of cans whilst she snuck out round the back. Lance was back on his bullshit, yelling his congratulations and over-enthusiastically thanking the staff at the club for letting them perform, as if the managers hadn't been hounding them for weeks to play a gig; they just wanted the attention.

  After receiving her drinks, Pidge pulled herself up onto the industrial bins round the back of the club. Inside, she could hear the music pounding against the concrete walls, but it was clear the club was clearing out now that Smokey Saturdays had finished their set; it was getting awfully late, and Pidge wanted nothing more than to get absolutely wasted before going home and sleeping off the grimy feeling that had taken over on this particular night.

  She inhaled. The night sky was pretty today. It reminded her of the days she used to spend in the library, hunched over a notebook or a laptop, or a textbook. She used to dive so deep into the pages that she lost track of time, and when she looked out the window after what felt like only minutes, the stars were blinking back at her, a warning that she needed to get some sleep before her body gave out on her.

  The memory made her smile. She wanted to relive them. Nowadays, the only reason the stars gave her warning was because she was sat up late writing songs, or Facetiming Matt, or drinking until she forgot the simple mistake she'd made on stage that day; now, her reason for drinking was purely because she didn't want to feel guilty about the fact she didn't enjoy the show she'd just put on.

  She emptied her first can and tossed it to the ground.

  The door closed, startling her. She turned, glancing over her shoulder to see you standing there.

  You were clearly startled, a black bin-bag in your hand, eyes wide and jaw open. Pidge raised a brow, cracking open her next can of beer before ushering you forward.

  “You can do whatever you came to do. This is public property.”

  “Sorry.” Your voice was quick. You ducked your head down, scampered forward and started plucking bits of rubbish from the floor.

  Pidge tilted her head, swinging her legs as she watched you work. A tiny stab of guilt formed in her chest when she watched you pick up the can she'd just thrown on the floor.

  “You work here?” Pidge wasn't entirely sure why she cared. She just wanted to start conversation.

  You nodded. Clearly, you didn't have the same attitude.

  “Hm. Did you see the show?”

  “Yes,” you mumbled. “You did really well.”

  “Do you listen to a lot of rock music?”

  You paused.

  Pidge grinned round the lip of her can. “No?”

  You shrugged. “Not . . . Not particularly.”

  “Nah, don't worry,” said Pidge. “Me neither.”

  You narrowed your eyes, glancing at her over your shoulder. Pidge met your eyes, and immediately you looked away, getting back to the job you were assigned.

  You were obviously a timid little thing; in Pidge's drunken state, she found something endearing about that. Most people would be trying desperately to impress her, but you seemed like you barely even had time to talk to her.

  That was a very, very pleasant change.

   “So what do you listen to?” Pidge asked.

  “I like all sorts,” you replied. To Pidge, this was just a way to drop the conversation.

  “Name me an artist you listen to,” she pushed. “I'll tell you if I like them or not.”

  “Smokey Saturdays.”

  “You don't like our music. You're only saying that to impress me.”

  You winced, caught out. “Hozier.”

  Pidge's eyebrows shot up. “Hozier, hm? I like him. What's your favourite song?”

  You paused, hand hovering over a glass bottle as you thought. “Someone New.”

  “That's quite old. 2014, I believe.”

  You shrugged. “I don't think it gets old. I can listen to it on repeat.”

  Pidge nodded, leaning back on the top of the rubbish bin. She watched you work, before slowly reaching into her back pocket and tugging out her phone; she was in a weird mood this night, and for some reason, this seemed like a good idea. She pulled up her Spotify app and put Someone New by Hozier on.

  You shot up, turning to look at Pidge with wide eyes. Pidge simply grinned, holding the phone out as if to help you listen better, despite it being clear you could hear every word. Pidge watched you swallow, and felt a sense of pride at the fact she was the one who had made you so suddenly. . . surprised.

  “Uh. . . Yeah,” you muttered. “It's a good song.”

  “Have you ever listened to Oh Wonder?”

  “A few of their songs. They're not one of my favourites, but I like them.”

   “You should listen to Superlove by them – it's really good. Different to what they usually put out.”

  Again, you only humbled Pidge with a small nod. It didn't tell her much; you were back to picking up the litter, not looking back to give Pidge a glimpse of your expression. She wasn't sure why it bothered her so much – perhaps it was the drink in her system. Maybe it was just because she was a rock star – she'd grown to thrive off of attention from others, even if that person was a strange bartender she'd never even spoken to before tonight.

  Nonetheless, you'd somehow piqued her interest; it was strange how Pidge had met hundreds of famous celebrities, thousands of fans, so many other well-known names, and none of them knew how to capture her attention like this.

  “Have you got a name?” she asked.

  “Y/N,” you replied. “Just Y/N.”

  Pidge raised a brow. “Okay, Just Y/N – why have your managers got you out here picking up litter? Surely you're more helpful behind the bar.” Pidge stuck out her bottom lip, furrowing her brows. “If I'm not wrong, I'm pretty sure that's where I saw you earlier on.”

   You jerked up. “You saw me?”

  “Yeah. You were trying to hide behind some of the shelves when we were playing.” Pidge grinned teasingly. “You really hate our music that much?”

  You bit your bottom lip, looking back down at the bag in your hand. “I just get nervous when things get too loud.”

   Pidge took pause with this comment, a rush of fresh guilt crashing down upon her. She hadn't taken into consideration that maybe you struggled in social situations – had she been making you uncomfortable this entire time?

  She slowly sat up, pulling her knees into her chest. “Sorry. I didn't . . . If you want me to stop talking to you, I don't mind. I can go inside and leave you to your work.”

  You were quiet for a moment. Pidge was sure she'd ruined it – you were going to ask her to leave and Pidge would be forced to go back into the building and face a life she was no longer sure she really wanted to live. She'd found herself enjoying the little bit of normalcy a conversation with you had given her.

  “You can stay.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

  Pidge tilted her head. “Are you sure?”

  “Please,” you mumbled, not looking up. “Tell me a bit more about your band.”

   Pidge bit her lip, staring at the back of your head. You continued to work, and there was something about the casual atmosphere that made Pidge feel comfortable. She leaned back on her hands, taking yet another swig of her drink before she said, “It's really not all it's cracked up to be, you know.”

   “No?”

   “Not in my head, anyway. I enjoy performing, don't get me wrong, but I've never been much of an outgoing person. I prefer to keep things fairly private.”

  “You can keep your life private and still be a rock star, you know.”

  Pidge scoffed. “Easy enough for you to say. You don't have cameras following you around everywhere you go.” She swigged her beer. “Or a Lance McClain forcing you to post on Instagram every two seconds.”

   You snickered. “No. I just have famous celebrities talking to me whilst I do my work.”

  Pidge grinned round the lip of her can. “I offered to leave and you said no.”

  “I'm not saying it's a bad thing.” You glanced at her. Pidge was certain she glimpsed a tiny smile. “I'm just saying it's bizarre.”

  “Yeah, well. I'm nothing special.”

  “I'm still slightly awestruck.”

  “Was that why you were so shy when you first walked out here?”

  You shrugged. “That, or I was just embarrassed. You're up there in your million pound outfit and I'm here, picking up other people's litter.”

  Pidge frowned, raising a brow as she looked down at the raggedy grey shirt and jeans she was wearing. “Hardly a million dollar outfit, Just Y/N.”

  “Better than my alcohol-stained uniform.”

    Pidge scoffed, and before she could think better of it, she tipped her can of beer straight down the front of her shirt. You gasped, shooting upright before you furrowed your brows and tilted your head in confusion. Pidge merely grinned, downing the remainder of the drink. She sat up straight, tossing it in your direction; it landed right in the bin bag.

  “Kobe!”

  “Why did you do that?”

  Pidge slumped back, lazily shrugging. “Why not?”

  “You're gonna go back in there smelling like a brewery.”

  “Oh, boo hoo.” Pidge wiped her mouth on her collar. “We're going back to the hotel. And it's not like half the people in there aren't off their heads on drugs and alcohol anyway.”

   You rolled your eyes.

  “Now we match,” said Pidge.

  “Why would you want to match with me in the first place?”

  Pidge shrugged. “You're a lot cuter than you give yourself credit for; I don't know why I wouldn't want to match with you.”

   Your eyes widened. Sober Pidge would have been mortified at such a comment slipping past her lips, but Pidge was past the point of caring about that right now; she simply grinned, letting her legs fall so she could swing them back and forth. She planted her hands between her knees and gazed at you as if you were the celebrity and she was your biggest fan.

  You coughed and turned away, biting down on your lower lip. “That was nice of you. I – I think you're cute too.”

  “Is this the part where we give each other our numbers?”

  “Do you want my number?”

  “Do you want mine?”

  You paused, grip tightening on the bin bag. Pidge watched you take a deep breath, as if hyping yourself up to answer her question. Your response was quick: “Yes.”

  Pidge nodded, tossing her phone in your direction. You yelped, dropping the bin bag to catch it. Pidge casually leaned back on the rubbish bins, waiting for you to figure out the mechanics of her mobile on your own.

  You glanced up at her. “Do I just put my number in your contacts?”

  “Mhm,” said Pidge. “Save your name under 'Cute Bartender.' I'll know who you are then.”

  “Stop flirting with me,” you grumbled, even as you punched your digits into her phone.

  Pidge raised a brow. “Do you not like it?”

  “I don't know how it works,” you said, tossing her phone back onto her stomach. “I can't reciprocate, so therefore it's better if you just . . . don't do it.”

  “I don't mind a little one sided flirting.” Pidge read your name, grinning when she saw you had taken her suggestion and actually put yourself down as 'Cute Bartender.'

  You scooped the bin bag up and looked at Pidge for a final time; even though you hadn't announced your parting, Pidge could just kind of tell that the conversation was drawing to a close; she wasn't entirely sure why it bothered her.

  She smiled, waving at you.

  You swallowed, nodded and awkwardly waved back. Without even saying goodbye, you ducked your head down and fled from the alleyway. Pidge listened to the door slam closed behind you before finally tilting her head back to look up at the stars; they were no longer warning her about going to bed. They were warning her about staying up and thinking on this moment for too long.

  ---

  You hated this.

  Whatever this was.

  A feeling of terror mixed with excitement mixed with a tiny voice in your head telling you to just fucking go for it. For the past few years, your life had been just that – you willing yourself to do things. Maybe that was why you were so sheltered – there was only so much anxiety a person could ignore before they let an opportunity pass by them.

  But this was just so far beyond what you were used to. You didn't even know where to start.

  You stared down at your phone, the place where Pidge's contact was flashing back at you; it was just her name. Even though Pidge hadn't seen her own contact in your phone, you were still too shy to put her name as anything other than 'Pidge.' Even giving yourself a nickname in her phone – at her request – had left you heated and fumbling.

  Did she expect you to text first? Maybe she did. She was probably too busy, was probably drunk when she first thought it was a good idea to ask for your number. This morning, she'd most likely woken up with absolutely no recollection of who you were, or what this random number in her phone even meant.

  You groaned and rolled over onto your back, pressing your knuckles into your eyes. Why was this so difficult? Why did your chest feel tight? Why couldn't you just do it?

  These were the thoughts that stampeded your brain for the minutes it took for your phone to go off.

  Immediately you bolted upright, snatching the cell up and looking down at the message that had just come through. As if the gods had somehow heard your complaints, Pidge's name popped up on screen – only it wasn't a message.

  She was calling you.

  Phone calls made you nervous at the best of times. There was always more of a struggle to keep a conversation up when you couldn't see their face, so you tended to avoid them as often as possible. But if you didn't answer this one, she would think you weren't interested. She was giving you a chance here, and you couldn't just-

  You cursed under your breath and hit accept.

  “Hello?” You said it like a question, as if you hadn't read and reread her name when it first popped up on screen.

  “Just Y/N!” Pidge exclaimed. “This is Pidge, from last night. The bassist. The girl you spoke to in the alleyway.”

   “I remember,” you replied, relieved that Pidge at least seemed to be good at holding conversation.

  “So, I hope you're not busy at the moment,” she continued. “We have the day off and I was hoping I could see you.”

  You paused. “See me?”

  “You know, go out. Just you and I. Perhaps to a place that doesn't have flies swarming around it.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Why couldn't you just say yes? You had the day off, too, and you knew for a fact you wanted to talk to her again; it was strange. You were almost never so enamoured by strangers – actually, sometimes you were downright terrified of them. So why was Pidge any exception?

  Pidge hummed in thought. “Well, are you hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  “Then we'll go out to eat.”

  “I can't afford to go to a fancy restaurant, Pidge. I work as a bartender.”

  Pidge scoffed. “Bold of you to assume I'd let you pay for your meal. No. Don't worry; we'll go somewhere simple. Maybe get a chippy and then have a picnic – it's a nice enough day for it.”

  You glanced out your window – she wasn't wrong. The sun was shining and the grass looked greener than ever. It truly was the perfect day for a picnic.

  “Okay,” you replied. “Sounds good. When should I be ready?”

  “Five minutes. I'm already walking out the door. Text me your address.”

  You shot upright. “Pidge, no. I'm not-”

  “Five minutes, Just Y/N!” she exclaimed. “Ready or not, I'll be at your front door in five minutes!”

  She hung up before you could respond. You groaned, tossed your phone onto your covers and stampeded for the shower, scooping your clothes up on your way.

  This was going to be an eventful afternoon.

  ---

  When Pidge saw you, she was immediately reminded as to why she had taken such a liking to you the previous night.

  Waking up this morning, her mind had been slightly foggy. Hunk was playing the drums in the basement, forever thinking he was being quiet, whilst Keith and Lance were arguing about their next gig in the kitchen. Pidge had been cursed with a hangover, but through the haze, she was still able to clearly make out the memory of you and her in that alleyway.

  She'd thought about it all morning. As she was making breakfast, as she was arguing with Keith, as she was laughing with Hunk – she could not get you off her mind, no matter how hard she tried.

  And so, she'd bitten the bullet and called you.

  She wasn't entirely sure a phone call was appropriate – she just couldn't gather her wits to text you. She wanted to be coherent, and with the state she was currently in, talking was the only way she was going to be able to get her point across.

  The entire journey to your flat was like some kind of fever dream; Pidge didn't even know where she was going, made a fool of herself as she pressed her phone to her ear, listening to the Google maps app talk her through directions. She'd ended up outside your block of flats, had been forced to ask the door man how to get up to your room; he'd simply nodded towards the door at the side of him, the bright green sign that read 'THIS WAY TO APARTMENTS' being a dead give away. Pidge had smiled and dashed up the steps before her embarrassment could reach higher levels.

  But that embarrassment was ebbed away the moment the door opened and you were standing there, hair still damp and eyes glistening with what Pidge could only hope was excitement.

  Pidge grinned, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “Well, don't you look pretty.”

  “Five minutes isn't enough time,” you said. “My hair isn't dry yet.”

  “We're going for a picnic.” Pidge stepped out of the way, ushering you out the door. “You don't need dry hair to enjoy some fish and chips, for crying out loud.”

  You scowled but stepped out of the house anyway. You locked the door before you and Pidge started back downstairs and headed towards the chippy.

  Pidge would be lying to claim things weren't a little more difficult than yesterday; your first conversation had been partially artificial, a product of the alcohol in her veins and the faux confidence said alcohol always gave her; today, however, she was overthinking everything. She wanted to call you pretty again – she liked the little smile you got when she said that – but couldn't bring herself to do it. She wanted to hold your hand, but she wasn't even sure you were seeing this whole thing as a date – maybe it wasn't. Maybe Pidge had been a little too hopeful, and she supposed it was partly her fault if you saw this as nothing more than a casual catch-up. She had asked you to a picnic. There had been no mention of a date within her request this morning.

  Conversation was scarce and cracked as you walked into the small chippy and ordered a fish and chip each; Pidge chastised you for getting vinegar. You chastised her for having hers plain. The two of you gathered your orders and walked to the park, sitting down on the grass to enjoy the view.

  And it was a splendid view; the park was right beside a rock beach, so the two of you could watch the waves softly lapping at the shore, plus the kids and families who were running up and down the length of it, giggling as the rocks prodded their bare feet.

  You started the conversation this time, a fact which both surprised and excited Pidge. “Do you live here?”

  Pidge looked up, raised a brow. “Here?”

  “Here.” You gestured around you. “Or is this just a tour stop for you?”

  “Oh, right.” Pidge wiped her hands on her jeans, ridding them of oil. “I have a house here, but we're on tour quite a bit nowadays. I wouldn't really say I live anywhere.”

  “Is that not annoying?”

  “It's nice sometimes. Although sometimes it's a little weird not having anywhere to call home.”

  You nodded as if you understood. Pidge hated that you didn't, hated that she still wasn't talking to someone who could genuinely relate to her; however, Pidge also acknowledged the fact that she didn't want to be talking to anyone else.

  She picked up a chip and tossed it at a nearby seagull. “What about you? How long have you lived here?”

  “My whole life,” you replied through a mouthful of fish. “I don't think I've ever lived less than two miles from a beach.”

  “Lucky bitch.”

  You shrugged. “It's all I've ever known. Plus, that also means we always got the worst winds at winter time – living near the coast isn't always sunshine and sunbathing.”

  “But it's always peaceful, isn't it?”

  “There was one time a ship with a bunch of smugglers pulled up on the shore, and-”

  Pidge raised a brow. You grinned, swallowing the rest of your story with a giggle. Pidge simply rolled her eyes, leaning back on her hands to gaze out over the ocean; it really was a peaceful sight, even with your attempts at dampening that.

  You leaned back alongside her; Pidge's stomach erupted into butterflies when she felt your arm brush against her own.

  “I think I need to apologise for last night,” said Pidge suddenly. The words weren't even planned, shocking even to her.

  You turned your head. “There's nothing to apologise for.”

  “I was brash,” said Pidge. “I was a little drunk, I think. I don't usually act that way in front of people.”

  “I don't think you acted badly-”

  “Cute bartender?” Pidge raised a brow, tilting her head in your direction.

  You bit your lip, stifling a giggle. “Okay, maybe that was a bit bold of you-”

  “It was disrespectful,” Pidge corrected. “I shouldn't have made you uncomfortable.”

  You sighed. “Pidge, I wasn't uncomfortable.”

  “But you could have been. I was treading on thin ice.”

  “You entertained me.” You nudged her shoulder, urging her to look at you. “There's a big difference.”

  Pidge stared at you for a moment longer; in this light, you looked utterly incredible. It almost took her breath away, made her feel flustered in the best way possible. Your eyes were glittering, your lips parted, a small glean of sweat on your collarbones, revealed by the slightly low cut summer shirt you were wearing. Pidge found herself slowly reaching forward, and you weren't stopping her, so she continued, and-

  “Oh my God, is that Pidge Gunderson?”

  She flinched away, letting her hand drop back in her lap. A young girl around the age of fourteen had dashed up to her side, was jumping up and down by the time Pidge finally managed to gather her bearings and look up, forcing a smile on her face.

  You, however, had immediately ducked back into your shell, pulling your knees into your chest and looking away. Pidge had the impression that you were pretending to not know her, lest the fan take notice of her company.

  Pidge greeted the fan as she always did – with enthusiasm, engraved into her head by Lance McClain himself. She took a picture and signed the girls shorts, before she turned on her heel and left, squealing to her friends that she finally met that girl she'd been telling them all about. Pidge watched them as they glanced back at her, and she knew then there was no point in staying if the fans planned on sticking around; you and her would get no privacy.

  Pidge turned back. You looked flustered, ducking your head behind Pidge so the fans wouldn't be able to see you. Pidge sighed and grabbed your hand; you tugged it out of her grip, stuffing it into your shorts pockets.

  Pidge frowned. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes,” you said a little too quickly. “I'm fine. I just – I think I have to get going.”

  Pidge's heart stopped. “What? Why?”

  You were already standing up, gathering your half-finished chippy. Before Pidge could even argue, you were tossing it into the bin, nearly stumbling over your own two feet in your attempts to get away quicker.

  Pidge followed you, grabbing your elbow before you could get too far. “Hey, hey, hey. Slow down a second. What's this about?”

  You couldn't meet her eyes. Your voice was a whisper, the words cracking. “I just have to go, Pidge.”

   There was something in your tone that made her arguments cease; you were panicking. Pidge knew what panic felt like, but never before had she been triggered by something as simple as human interaction. She stared at you for a moment, fingers hovering beneath your elbow but no longer holding you; she couldn't put you through that. If you felt yourself getting overwhelmed by what just happened, Pidge wouldn't be the one to make you go through it again.

  But there was no way to stop it besides letting you leave.

  She swallowed thickly and nodded, stepping back. “O-okay. You'll text me when you get home, won't you? Just to – Just to let me know you got there safely.”

  You nodded, already walking away.

  “Okay,” Pidge called after you. “I'll see you soon, then, yeah?”

  You nodded again, but there was no verbal response. Pidge let her hand drop, slap against her leg. The noise echoed, sounding dull in her ears. It sounded like the most pathetic noise in the world – the sound of rejection.

  ---

  You hated everything.

  You hated yourself, hated your brain, hated the anxiety you had been cursed with for entirely no reason.

  It ruined things. In fact, there were some days you were genuinely convinced it ruined everything, because you knew for certain your life would be ten times better if your brain would just shut off for a few hours and let you live.

  But that was never the case. It would never be the case. The world was bleak, and you let it get to you, and you hated it.

  You hugged the comforter tighter around your body, Netflix playing as nothing more than background noise. Sometimes having something on in the background helped quieten your brain, but it was getting more and more difficult as the stresses of life emerged to the surface. You had a job now – you would need to interact with people again tomorrow night, and that thought was enough to keep you awake. You imagined all the ways you could mess up – you were still new. You hadn't learned everything, certainly hadn't mastered anything you'd been taught, and so there was every possibility that you would mess up somehow. People would stare at you and laugh, because you knew for a fact you looked odd in that place; a shy little thing being forced to serve burly, overexcited drunk teenagers.

  You must have looked a sight.

  In truth, you thought you were starting to get used to this new job. You were able to sleep a little better, was getting more skilled at convincing yourself everything was going to be fine. However, the situation with Pidge brought you right back to square one, reminding you of just how bad it was.

  You liked Pidge. A lot. A lot more than you had a right to, considering you barely knew her, considering she was a rock star and you were a bartender.

  But, weirdly, she seemed to like you, too.

  So what was the problem?

  That was the question you asked yourself on a daily basis – why did your brain go into overdrive over absolutely nothing? The pieces were all there – you and Pidge got along, enjoyed each others company. The only thing missing was your ability to understand her lifestyle, and it was your anxieties fault that you couldn't do that right now.

  You'd at least had the decency to text her when you got home. Whilst your anxiety was strong enough to make you ditch her at the last minute, it apparently wasn't strong enough for you to disappoint her by not texting her back when she asked you to.

  She'd replied, but you hadn't looked at it. If you didn't see it, you couldn't really chastise yourself for ignoring her.

  You sighed and closed your eyes; nights like this were painful. You just wanted to go to sleep, but turning the TV off meant the thoughts had free reign. You would be up until the early hours of the morning fretting over what happened today, and you honestly saw no point in doing such a thing – if you were going to overthink, you may as well do it with Netflix playing in the background to keep you entertained.

  And so, you stayed awake until your body could no longer properly function. You fell asleep upright that night, head tilted against your shoulder, Pidge's message going unread on your uncharged phone.

  ---

  “You look like someone took a shit in your cereal.”

  Pidge looked up, hair dishevelled and fingers aching from how hard she'd pressed into the copper strings of her guitar. Keith stood over her, toothbrush dangling out of his mouth as he got ready for the second night playing at the Club From Hell – that was the nickname Pidge had given it. As soon as she walked in the doors, she had been reminded of you, reminded of the date, reminded of the fact that she had been completely rejected.

  He was shirtless, his guitar hanging across his chest. He raised a brow when Pidge looked up, but all she did in response to his mild insult was blink drearily.

  Keith leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. “Did you sleep last night?”

  Pidge shoved him away. “For a few hours.”

   Keith grabbed her wrist, inspecting the indents in her fingers; they shouldn't have been there. Keith, being a bass player himself, would definitely know this. Pidge had been playing guitar since she was nine years old – by now, her calluses should have been strong, able to take the pressure it took to make a good note ring out on the guitar. It was clear by the damage he was inspecting now that Pidge had been pressing extra hard into the strings.

  She pulled her hand away, wrapping it back round the neck of her bass.

  “Pidge...”

  “Do you not have something better to do?” she snapped.

  “Not until the show starts,” said Keith, sitting down in the seat across from her. “You gonna tell me what's going on, or do I have to get Lance in here to-”

  “Please, for the love of god, do not get Lance in here.”

  “Then explain.” He leaned back, going back to brushing his teeth.

  Pidge inhaled; how could she even explain what was going on? Never before had she been so unsure about her life and her goals and her future – she'd always known that music had been an accident, but she'd enjoyed it. It was a happy accident.

  However, she was starting to think of life outside of concerts, outside of touring, outside of the thousands upon thousands of fans who supported her. She was beginning to think of the people who she wanted to care for her, but couldn't because this lifestyle she owned wasn't something they could keep up with.

  But maybe that wasn't right. Maybe Pidge should give herself more credit – why should she give up the life she enjoyed just to please somebody else?

  Well, the answer to that was simple; the life she enjoyed didn't always include music. The life she enjoyed, however, did include being loved by family and friends.

  “What would you do if you met someone you ended up really liking, but they couldn't keep up with the whole rock star life?”

   Keith narrowed his eyes. “That's what this is about?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Well.” Keith sighed, his head falling back completely. He draped his arm over the back of the chair. “Why don't we take Shiro as an example here. His partner was a god damn criminal when they first met. They were robbing his house, for fuck sake.”

   “So?”

  “So.” Keith looked back up. “Their lifestyle didn't match up with Shiro's, but they managed to make it work because they love each other.”

  Pidge frowned. “They ended up becoming a criminal profiler, Keith. They got out of that life.”

  “Shiro fell in love with them whilst they were still living this crazy life. You wanna know why?”

  “Because Shiro's a crackhead.”

   “Because Shiro realised he loved them for who they are, and he was willing to help them change. He kept up with their life because he wanted to see them get better. If someone falls for you, Pidge, they'll stick around because they want to see you do what makes you happy. They'll stick around because they want to see you reach that point.” Keith put the toothbrush back in his mouth and scoffed. “And people say I'm not a romantic.”

  Pidge ignored him, pondering on his previous example – it was true that Shiro and his partner had a horrendous story between them; Shiro had nearly been robbed by the person he would later become engaged to. In a sense, Pidge always thought that was stupid of him – but Keith was right. Shiro had helped them get their life on track. He'd stuck around because he wanted them to be happy, wanted to help them reach that happiness.

  It hurt her heart to think that the person she'd been talking to, the person she enjoyed talking to, wouldn't feel that way. But it was the truth. You'd walked away, unable to handle the life Pidge had chosen for herself. That was your choice, but Pidge was under no obligation to drop her whole life just to please someone else.

  It was a hard truth to conclude, but it was the truth nonetheless. She could do nothing but move on.

  ---

  You could barely even hear Lance.

  You weren't concentrating on the lyrics any more; you were concentrating on her.

  Tonight, she really was wearing a million pound outfit. Her black shirt was decorated with golden chains that dangled from her arms and glinted against the spotlight cast down upon her. Her brown hair was sticking up in that crazy do she always seemed to have it in. Her body swayed just slightly to the music, fingers working wonders against the neck of the bass guitar she played so wonderfully.

  You wanted her to look at you.

  For the first time in your whole entire life, you wanted someone to look at you. You were prepared to meet her eyes, prepared to hold that eye contact until she understood what it was you were trying to communicate – you were sorry.

  So, so sorry.

  Anxiety vibrated in your bones as you stood behind the counter, but you were so willing to push that out of the way right now. You could do that. You were capable of pushing it to the side if you really tried, and right now, you were willing to put yourself through that exertion if it meant getting your point across to Pidge.

  If you wanted to be with her, you would have to make sacrifices. That was what you'd learned, what you were willing to attempt. If it got too much for you, it would be okay. You could leave the fire knowing you tried to put it out – if you failed, then so be it. What more could you do?

  You turned away from the stage as the last song came to an end; Pidge was clearly trying to avoid you. She knew you worked at the bar, so she hadn't looked over a single time throughout the entire set. You didn't mind. Sure, it hurt a little bit but you would be lying to claim it wasn't exactly what you'd expected to happen.

  Nonetheless, you couldn't help yourself when you joined the rest of the crowd in exiting the club; your shift wasn't over, but that was fine. You could come up with an excuse when the time came. For now, you had one objective, and one objective only.

  You found Pidge not long after.

  As expected, she hadn't gone out the back. That was too similar to the happenings of the first time you met. Instead, she was with the rest of her band mates, huddled outside the front of the club, greeting fans. She was smiling, but that smile quickly faded when she looked over and saw you standing there.

  You hugged your arms tight around your body, staring right back at her. You wanted to say something, usher her forward, but the words died in your throat, and you were suddenly growing much too nervous to do anything like that. So instead, you stared, and you hugged yourself, and you hoped she got the idea.

  She hollowed out her cheeks, giving Keith a subtle nudge before she broke away from the crowd and walked towards you. You turned on your heel and jogged round the side of the building; she followed.

  “You wanna talk to me now?”

  “I'm sorry.” It came out a jumbled mess, not nearly as coherent as you'd originally planned it to be – but, well, that was how it often was with you.

  Pidge narrowed her eyes, folding her arms over her chest. The chains dangling from her loose black shirt glinted under the late night summer sun. “Sorry for what? Ditching me on our first date?”

  You blinked. “That was a date?”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  You quickly shook your head. “What? No. No! I'm – I'm glad you thought it was a date. I just – I wasn't thinking. It was nice, though. I – uh – I enjoyed...” You trailed off, biting your lower lip when you realised just how badly this was going. “Look Pidge, I feel like an asshole.”

  “You didn't want to stick around. I don't have a problem with that.”

  “I panicked.” You grabbed her arm. She froze. You froze, but didn't pull away. “I'm working on that, alright? It's just . . . my anxiety has been an issue for me from day one, but I want to get better. I want to help myself, because it's getting past the point of manageable, and it's just. . . I can't keep going on like this, worrying about the smallest of things. It's not fair on me. It's not fair on you.”

  Pidge blinked. You inhaled shakily, letting your hand fall back to your side.

  “I panicked,” you repeated, quieter this time. “But I panicked even worse when I got home and realised I'd probably lost every chance with you. I think that says something.”

  Pidge was silent. You thought for sure you'd messed it up this time – she was going to laugh in your face. She was going to turn on her heel and tell you to go to hell, and quite frankly, you were starting to believe that's what you deserved.

  But then you felt her fingertips brushing gently over the back of your palm. Your breath hitched, lower lip trembling.

  Her voice was quiet when she spoke, soft. “You're apologising because of your anxiety?”

  “I – I guess so.”

  “You don't have to apologise to me for that.” She stepped closer, examining your face for any signs of discomfort. You stayed rooted to the spot, fingers twitching with the need to grab her and pull her closer. “If anything, I have to apologise for making you feel bad for something like that.”

  You closed your eyes. “Pidge, this is my mistake. You don't need to-”

  “Why don't we just agree that we both slipped up?” Pidge flicked your chin, urging you to open your eyes. Looking back at her, you could see she was now grinning. She kept her fingers hovering near your chin, and when you didn't back away, she traced her thumb along your bottom lip. “We can pretend none of this ever happened. We can get you help for your anxiety. We can make all of this work.”

  “I don't – I don't know how quick I'll be able to throw myself into the public eye like that-”

  “You don't have to throw yourself into the public eye at all if you don't want to.”

  You blinked. “But that's what you do. That's your job. I want to support you in that.”

  Pidge chuckled, stepping closer. This time, the step saw your chests touching. “You can support me without getting involved in things you don't want to get involved in. Honestly, just seeing you at the bar when I'm performing helps keep me sane.”

  Your cheeks heated. “Okay. Okay, that's okay. We can . . . We've got plans, then.”

  Pidge raised a brow. “Plans for what?”

  You swallowed. “Well, I mean . . . I don't know. I guess I was just kind of wondering if we could do that date over again. I promise I'll try my hardest not to, like, ditch you again.”

  Pidge was smiling even before your sentence was finished. “Does this invite mean I get to kiss you?”

  You blinked. “Uh, yeah.”

  Pidge chuckled before pressing her lips to your own. Your heart thundered in your chest, but this time, it wasn't a product of horror and fear, but of emotions you'd never even felt before. Pidge's hands wandered to the back of your neck, and your own rested on her hips; you didn't know where else to put them, and yet Pidge still groaned into your mouth when your fingers made contact with the flowing material of her black shirt.

  She pulled away first, looking into your eyes. “How about we re-do that date of ours tomorrow afternoon? The fish and chips are on me.”

  ---

  You squeezed Pidge's hand. She was brought back to reality.

  The fans were screaming her name. This was something she had grown used to in the years she'd been in the public eye, but it was different this time; they were here for the album.

  The album.

  The album the whole band had been working on for years was finally out, had debuted at number one in the UK album charts, was rising to number one on every other bloody music chart there was – Pidge was overwhelmed as she stepped out of the limo and waved to the fans who had been waiting on her for hours. Some of them had camped out for days.

  You being by her side was the only thing keeping her sane.

  You stepped out of the vehicle beside her, reaching for her hand almost immediately. Pidge looked over and smiled at you; you awkwardly smiled back. She was proud of you. It was only the year before you would have nearly passed out from so much as being beside Pidge when she was spotted by a single fan, and now here you were, standing beside her, smiling at the cameras at her album debut party.

  She was so proud of you.

  The two of you walked into the venue. Keith, Hunk and Shiro gave you a polite peck on the cheek, whilst Lance threw himself into your arms and cried out, “You made it! You made it!” You'd giggled and nodded, admitting you were a little nervous but more than happy to be there for Pidge on her big night.

  The show started. You stayed back stage, and Pidge couldn't help but grin when she looked over and saw you dancing with Allura and Hunk's significant other – Pidge remembered the first time you had met them, how awkward you'd been, how you'd basically hovered round Pidge the entire time. Now, Allura was hanging onto your arm like she was afraid of losing you, and you didn't even seem to care.

  Plus, it was only last year that you had openly admitted to not even liking Smokey Saturdays music.

  Once the show was over, Pidge made a B-Line for you. You were waiting for her, arms already outstretched. Pidge laughed loudly, all but bounding into your grip. She nuzzled her head in your neck, pressing multiple kisses to the flesh there because she knew how flustered that got you.

  You squealed and pulled back, shoving Pidge away playfully. “You're sweating.”

  “I'm happy.” Pidge dived back in for a hug, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you into her chest. You didn't fight this time, simply laughed and hugged her back. “God, this is incredible. I feel so happy.”

  “I don't want to hear it any other way,” you said. “I'm so proud of you, Pidge. You've worked so hard for this.”

   “It would have driven me insane if you weren't there with me,” she replied, pulling away to look into your eyes. “Honestly, Y/N – when we first got together, I was on the verge of giving this whole thing up.”

  You nodded solemnly, because you knew. Even after things with you had become official, Pidge had still gone back and forth with what she really wanted – music was part of her now, and it always would be, but she questioned it's benefits to her personal life more than she wanted to admit.

  You had been part of the reason she'd chosen to stay on – not because you pushed her to choose music. You pushed her to understand. You sat with her until the early hours of the morning, listening to her rant about the recent song she was working on, how she wanted to give it all up and go back to university to study something she was good at. You'd always cut her off at this point, tell her with a firmness unfamiliar to you that she was good at music – but if she was losing her passion, you promised to stick by her no matter what path she chose to take.

  You always just wanted her to be happy.

  It had worked both ways. As Pidge looked at you now, she realised with a tiny sense of pride that maybe – just maybe – she had done the right thing with you. You had done all the work, gotten yourself to this fresh point of confidence entirely on your own, but Pidge had been there for you – it was all she really could do. She went with you to counselling when the idea of walking into that office on your own was too daunting. She held your hand when the doctors gave you the official diagnosis of generalised anxiety. She went running with you on days when not even Pidge's soothing words could calm you down.

  You'd been there for each other, and you had somehow managed to reach this point of utter happiness that Pidge would not trade for the world.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Another Set of Updates

Okay, gonna try to keep this as brief as possible!

My poll regarding which Kidge-a-Palooza AU I should turn into a story proper is still available: [here]. I’m gonna leave it up for another week or so, so please give it a vote if you haven’t already!

Chapter 4 of Here (In Your Arms) is up and available: [here].

Chapter 2 of Paint me in Trust is up and available: [here].

Chapter 2(6) of Time, Space and Everything Between is up and available: [here].

Since the update for Time, Space and Everything Between is up, I wanted to clarify a few things about where it’ll be going from hence forth. That information (spoiler free) can be found below for those that are interested.

Okay, so, confession time! This fic wasn’t supposed to become what it is now. Originally, I planned for this fic to be about six/ seven chapters and go in a somewhat different direction than it has. There was going to be an entire chapter dedicated just to the Kogane and Holt families bonding. The rescue of Shiro was going to go almost the same as it did in the series canon, with Keith being kept on Earth with his father using his camouflage device and entering the Garrison in hopes of snuffing out who the Blue Paladin was. The only big changes to it that I intended to make was Keith and Pidge knowing each other prior, Keith actually being a Galra, and when they head back to the shack, they’re greeted by Papa Kogane. From there, I was planning to end the fic with them going through the wormhole and implying events played out mostly the same as canon. But, then I decided I didn’t really like that idea either, so then I thought I’d go the route of letting Keith grow up with the Holt’s. Like, Ethan moving out there and Krolia leaving Keith on Earth to have a tradional human childhood.

As you can see, I didn’t end up doing any of that. And you may be wondering why.

Because the last season of Voltron left me that disappointed but I will admit I had issues with the show even before that Spit-in-the-Face ending but we’ll get there and I was raised by parents who said “If you don’t know how you’d improve something, you shouldn’t be the one to complain about it.”

Well, fine then. I’m gonna do just that.

ALSO I WANT TO CLARIFY that I am NOT saying I could have written the show better than the show runners themselves! I’ve never been in the position(s) they were in. I do, however, have the benefit of hindsight, which allows me to look at where the show succeeded and failed respectively, and take steps that I think would offer a more cohesive, enjoyable story-telling experience as a whole. I am taking the things that I, personally, took issue with, as well as some of the bigger things I’ve seen the fandom at large take issue with. At the end of the day, though, most of these decisions will be made from my own personal desires/ whims (since, you know, ship-feels and all that jazz). I will, however, be open to criticism from any and all who read my fics, so please feel free to tell me what you think does or doesn’t work as we go along.

I’m gonna break this down into four main categories down below; Things I’m Adding, Things I’m Cutting, Things I’m Adjusting, and Cut Fic Content. All but one of these is pretty self-explanatory, I think, but I promise to explain that little oddity when we get there. I’ll also touch on what and why I chose to approach certain things the way that I did.

Things I’m Adding

Melenor and Garett

Queen Melenor is kind of an anomaly in the series, don’t you think? It was kind of implied throughout most of the series proper that she died while Allura was still pretty young, which would have made a lot more sense for both Allura’s relationship with Alfor, as well as why Alfor was so distant from Zarkon when Daibazaal began tattering at the seams. But then Season 8 happened and threw all that out the window! All of a sudden, Melenor’s death suddenly carries this great significance for Allura, to the point she has a hallucination about her. Plus, it also kinda throws a wrench into scenes from the earlier seasons. Allura specifically says “Zarkon killed my Father and my Mother!” but… If Melenor was killed by Zarkon, where was she during the fall of Altea? Why wasn’t she with her daughter and husband in the final moments? And it makes even less sense when you look at that first scene where Allura and Coran were introduced. There were eight pods there. You mean to tell me Alfor didn’t think it might be a good idea to save an extra body or two to help guide Allura as she steps into the role she will have to take once he’s gone? Or even to help with maintaining/ rebuilding the Castle of Lions?

So, I’ve decided to add Melenor as a way to give some more characterization to not only she herself as a character, but also Alfor. Plus, I decided to make use of Garett (whose name I spell differently for reasons), Coran’s son from the original series, too. I think it’d be more fun to have an extra set of hands on board to help maintain the Castle of Lions and teach the Paladins, but maybe closer to their age range. So, we’ll see how things go with adding him to the roster. :3

Backstory for the Blades

This was something that we should have gotten a little bit of exposition on, considering how inflated their importance got. Like, the Blade became instrumental to the functionality of both Voltron and the Rebels due to their intelligence gathering. I think it’d have been kind of cool to see where it all started and what events in specific triggered it into becoming.

More Focus on Team Relationships

I didn’t really feel like the big victory against Zarkon was earned at the end of Season 2. I also didn’t think the team really earned any of their bigger victories, such as against Lotor and Honerva. They never felt like a real team that meshed because they just kinda stuck the same pairs/ clicks together. This was my biggest issue throughout most of the show and I really want to explore the dynamics we never really got to see. There are a few standout relationships that definitely needed some retooling, but I’ll mention those farther down. 

More Alien Worlds

Sci-fi and Fantasy are my big genres because I. Fudgin. Love seeing the designs for different technology, worlds and races. And while we did get some interesting ones with the series proper - which I’ll be mostly still including - I wish we’d gotten to see more. So, because I have no self-control, I’ll be planning to do that here!

Shiro’s Love Life

Shiro deserved better. I feel like that’s kind of something that most of the fandom can agree on. I don’t say this from a place of hate for Curtis, though, because… Well, what is there to hate? He was a literal background character who did nothing, said maybe two lines of dialogue, and that was it. Considering how much they pushed Shiro being the rep for the LGBT+ crowd, they did literally nothing with his love life. Hell, Adam was only revealed as his fiance because Bex fought tooth and nail for them to say it! If they hadn’t pushed the way they did, it would have all been subtext.

So, Shiro is going to have a romantic side plot in this fic, where we’ll focus on him and the character I’ve picked to be his partner.

Minor Side Romances

Some other little side pairings are gonna get a bit of love, here, too, since Voltron really only did the romance side of things well with, like, two couples. All the main couples are also gonna get plenty of spotlight, but I also think it would be fun to do some smaller side ships every now and then, too.

Things I’m Cutting

Villain Roulette

There was way too much jumping back and forth between who our main villain to focus on was. Bam, it’s Zarkon! No, wait, now it’s Lotor! Just kidding, here comes Zarkon again! Except that it was actually Lotor! Or so you thought; it’s actually Honerva haha great prank amiright? It was exhausting and I think it’d be a lot simpler to just… Stick with one villain who controls the smaller monster-of-the-day bad guys for an extended period of time and, once they’re for reals defeated, then move on to the next. I’ll be taking this approach for the sake of not only having a more focused story, but also my own sanity. I’ve never been good at gambling so trying the same thing as the show would probably turn out even worse for me.

Keith’s Excellent Blade Adventure with His Mommy

This is all unnecessary in this story, so we won’t be doing it at all. Keith’s sorry purple tail is staying with Team Voltron; no buts, no fuss, no coconuts.

Shiro’s Illness and Adam’s Death

Adam’s death is something I could go on about for hours specifically because it seemed unfair and kinda petty. Like, I feel they killed him specifically because they couldn’t kill Shiro, and they wanted to amp up the Tragic Backstory for our prior leader. So, instead, that’s getting the boot, as well as Shiro’s illness, since it’s also unneeded for plot convenience. Plus, it could have been nice to have a character that was willing to call Shiro out on the Atlus. Shiro always got treated like some kind of flawless entity, and I think it’d been nice to have someone call that Nice Guy Schtick out.

Allura and the Entity Plotline

This whole thing made no sense, got no proper development because of how late into the game they introduced it, and ended up being nothing more than a tool for them to kill Allura off. So, that can GTFO of my house post haste.

The Ending as a Whole

Some parts of the ending worked, but most of it just sucked. When the ending is so bad that it makes me feel obligated to stan characters I was ambivalent/ outright disliked? Yeah, gonna need to walk that back a bit.

Most of Seasons 3-6

The pacing in these seasons really was terrible. We derailed working on the team dynamic, building up the Coalition and Rebel forces, and developing the Paladins’ characters to instead focus on all that shit with Lotor. That… Was infuriating. Especially considering it was all basically a waste.

Additionally, we had Keith sidelined and his arc - which was clearly going to be center around him learning how to be a leader - completely pushed aside and then treated as if it did happened when he showed up late with Starbucks at the end of Season 6. That felt really unbelievable to me.

Time Skips

There were way too many time skips, for serious. Especially when those time skips didn’t include any kind of change in development/ character for the team. There’ll be smaller time skips, but nothing as egregious as what we got in seasons 6 and 7.

Things I’m Adjusting                                                              

Lion Swap

This’ll still be happening, but the circumstances that trigger it will be different. I may also shift around who gets to take which Lion when we get to that point. I haven’t decided just yet, but I’ll have it figured out before we reach that point. Most of this fic is already planned out and, honestly, the Lion Swap will be finalized once I figure out what I’m doing with a few of the other characters.

Shiro and Keith’s Relationship

This, right here? This was one of my biggest issues with Voltron. Keith was completely codependent on Shiro, while Shiro clearly cared about Keith’s well-being but it always felt like he’d have been just fine if something similar to what happened to him happened to Keith. It’s just… Really gross to me. It doesn’t help that I also find the whole “Dying for Your Lover” Trope – which I’ve seen a lot of people praise The Black Paladins for implying - to be incredibly disgusting and unhealthy. Also Keith’s flagrant hypocrisy never getting called out bothers me a lot since I actually like when a character behaves in a hypocritical manner, since it feels organic, but it has to be called out because hypocrisy can lead to double-standards and create harmful environments and I need to stop for now

So, Keith and Shiro are still going to be close, but they aren’t going to be that close.

Keith and Allura’s Relationship

Oh, look! Another potentially interesting aspect of the show that they kinda dropped the ball on! I really hated Allura’s heel-turn on Keith when it’s revealed that he’s Galra in S2 because a) It’s not like Keith himself knew this and was actively hiding it, and b) It felt out of character for the way Allura had been presented thus far. Her lashing out at Zarkon when she was captured made sense since he directly killed her father, her people and her planet. And I could understand being wary of the Blades – to the extent that she was in the first half – but after Keith’s heritage is revealed, she’s completely cold to him and only seems to decide he’s a good guy when he’s willing to take on a potential suicide mission! They either needed to drag the animosity out and show it effecting Allura’s ability to work with the team as a whole and also show the team sticking up for Keith because the fact that Hunk was the only one that said anything is kinda messed up like where tf was Shiro if he and Keith are oh so close? or they needed to tone Allura’s attitude towards him back a bit more, have her approach him in a manner similar to how she addressed the Blade members; acknowledging he is there and contributing, but not praising or thanking him outright.

And since Keith presents and knows he’s part Galra from the start in this fic? Well, we’ll actually get to play around with that dynamic a little more. And while I’m on the subject of our favorite Altean princess…

Allura’s Character Inconsistencies

Allura’s character jumped around a lot in some of the earlier seasons and I’d be willing to wager that this is because the writers never settled on an age for her. And I don’t mean during the big changes like her becoming a Paladin or Lotor’s betrayal, since it’d make sense she be shaken by situations that drastic. One minute, she’s this composed, confident and well-spoken young leader doing the best she can. The next, she’s a more temperamental sort who has low self-esteem/ confidence in her own abilities to even successfully contribute to a team. Now, I think I kniw what they were trying to do; they were trying to show that the more impulsive side of her is more genuine while the composed side is her trying to be the leader she is expected to be. I get it. They fixed this and improved on it later down the line, but they could have done better by maybe addressing it and using it as a chance to develop her relationship with another member or two of Team Voltron.

Season 2’s Ending

The defeat of Zarkon happened way too soon. Especially since then, because they wanted to play around with Lotor’s intentions, they had to bring him back as a cyborg-zombie fueled by quintessence. Zarkon should have only been defeated once and then we should have been allowed to move on to the next main villain. As such, I’m moving Zarkon’s defeat further down the line and will be modifying some of the consequences there in.

P Much Everything About Lotor’s Acr/ Motives

Lotor… Man, Lotor was confusing and a lot of wasted potential. They painted him as if they wanted him to be a morally grey villain, where he does terrible things for what he considers the betterment of others, but then, once it’s revealed that he was keeping secrets, he just… Goes full ham. He becomes Evil McAwful incarnate and it felt unrealistic. There were about 20 different directions they could have taken Lotor – before and after the reveal – and I just didn’t care for the approach they took. So, I’ll be doing things a little different and seeing how that goes.

What I’m Keeping from Seasons 3-6

Very, very little things are going to be kept from each of the aforementioned seasons and implemented in the fic. I’m not planning to keep too many of the big plot moments because they all bled into the issues I had with the story as it stood on its own. I will, however, take some of the small things from those three seasons and include them here. This also applies to certain elements from the other seasons as well, but we’ll get there when we get there.

Adopting Kosmo

Kosmo will be in this fic, come Hell or high water. He is the Best Boi and deserves to be here.

Cut Fic Content

Okay, so here’s the weird one in this line up! As the title implies, there’s some content that I have cut from the fic, even this early on. I actually have some of the Kogane-Holt bonding scenes still drafted up somewhere in my files. I removed them because I was worried that they’d feel too much like filler. There’s also some scenes I started to work out from when I planned to have Keith grow up with Pidge and Matt; specifically including a scene where Krolia and Ethan talk about the idea and decide to commit.

Some of these ideas won’t work in the fic as it stands now, though. I also, however, like the idea of putting it out for everyone to read. So, I’m debating on making a separate one-shot collection of things that could have happened, or just adding them as the occasional buffer between the arcs of the story. I’ll make a poll when I get closer to the point of deciding how to proceed, so keep an eye out for that. :3

That’s all for now! I hope you all enjoy the updates and I’ll hopefully be updating again sooner than this time!

[ao3feed-klance]

Wow that was so easy

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/2ZlQjn3

by lonelygiraffes

Team punk devise a plan to get keith and lance to address the lion in the room. Short one shot i wrote for myself but I'm posting here to get it out of my notes and share it with others who were hurt by the clusterfuck that was the ending of voltron. Maybe ill write more. Depends on how i feel. Thank you voltron fandom for going through this with me. It was very unfair what they did to all their lgbt fans. The baiting and false promises. I hope this helps you come to terms with the ending.

Words: 1940, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt

Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)

Additional Tags: Confessions, Telepathy, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/2ZlQjn3

[shastelly]

Rivalry - March Klance Prompts from MonthlyKlance - Day 16

Day 16 – Rivalry (Part 2 continued from Day 14 Distance)

I leaned back against the wall.  I needed to catch my breath.  I'd finally gotten far enough ahead that I had moved down off the rooftops.  That was a good thing because getting shot at every time I took a jump across roofs sucked.  And while I hadn't lied about the first graze not being that bad, the second was worse and the third wasn't a graze at all, it was a solid hit to my right thigh.  Fortunately, laser blasts cauterize pretty well so bleeding wasn't the issue that it might have been but burns hurt and burns that leave a hole in my leg hurt a lot.

 I wondered what the others were doing.  They should be most of their way to Green now if they'd gone the way they should have gone. I know they didn't though, Keith said they would be coming to me and I was supposed to try to head to them.  The sad thing was that it was easier to tell which way I was going from the rooftops and panicked running made it a little hard to stay on course.  I knew one thing for sure.  I was not letting Keith beat me to the halfway point.  I know we've moved a little past this whole rivalry thing, but not that far past it.

 I pushed off the wall and began making my way down the alley between two mostly intact buildings.  I didn't hear anything coming.  I could do this.  I needed to stay ahead of the Galra.  The team was in a relatively Galra free area and moving right into one crammed with all the idiots looking for me, putting themselves in unnecessary danger.  They should have just gone straight to Green. They could have picked me up after that. Coming after me added additional danger and unknown.  The Galra could move Green or change their minds and try to move in on the team.  I shook my head.  Now was not the time to let negative thoughts get in my way.

 My leg crumpled and I fell to the side when I tried to crouch down, knocking over some crates.  I cringed at the sound and scrambled back.  I could hear footsteps moving quickly now.  Steeling myself against the pain I scrambled up and ran away from the sound.  I didn't have time for quiet and before I made the turn into the next street laser blasts were flying past me again.  This was not my day.  I kicked up the speed and ran flat out down a street, zig zagging to throw off the laser blasts heading at me.  The armor soaked a couple of hits for me and I managed to get enough of a lead to duck into an alley.

 I felt like I could hardly suck in enough air, but I had to keep moving - fear of death is a powerful motivator.  I wonder what kind of speed records humans would be capable of if only someone was shooting at them as they ran.  There was a door into a building that was slightly ajar.  I slipped in and pulled it closed behind me.  I still couldn't hear my pursuers, so I took the time to brace a fallen beam from the building against the door.  It shouldn't look like I'd gone this way.

 I crept deeper into the structure.  It wasn't horribly stable, there was a lot of creaking and one too many of what looked like support beams on the floor or cracked and hanging down from the ceiling. A good wind would take this place down, but hopefully not today.  I found myself in what must have been a bedroom.  There was a crushed bed in here anyway.  I pulled the cover off of the bed.  It was dirty and the green was yellowed and gave me a great idea because it was almost the exact color of most of the buildings.  I tied it around me like a cape.  It should help cut down on any glare or reflection from my white armor. I grinned and imagined myself like Frodo and Sam hiding under the elven cloaks.  I'm not sure it was going to work that well, but it should help.

 I waited until I heard the sound of the patrol that had been chasing move past the building, I was in.  I sat hunkered down by the side door, ready to make a run for it if I needed.  I didn't.  They moved past at double time, still hot on my trail.  I smiled, maybe my day was improving.

 A few dobashes later and I left through the door I had entered.  I doubled back two blocks, cut over three and tried to get myself back on track for meeting up with the team.  I really wish the coms in the helmet hadn't gotten fried by that blast. I guess it being fried verses my head being fried was really a reason not to complain, but I couldn't help but wonder what was going on with the team.  What were they doing?  Were they okay?

 I made good progress for the next several blocks.  I only had to duck into an alley once and the bedsheet cloak was surprisingly effective.  The patrol passed by the alley without a pause.  I felt like I was getting close to the halfway point and no matter what I'd tried to convince myself I had been pretty sure Keith and the team would beat me here.  The fact that I hadn't heard or seen them made me wonder if there was a problem, or more likely I was lost.  

 There was only one thing to do.  I needed a better view.  Two blocks over was a building that would work, about ten stories, taller than any other building in the area if I was remembering the map right.  If I was in the right part of the map to remember.  With a quick check I double timed it over to the building.  Maybe I shouldn't have double-timed.   Maybe I shouldn't have thought that things were going better.  Quiznak, did I hit my head, oh, you know probably the blast that fried the com.  Huh, I wonder if my bedsheet cloak is not as cool as I had imagined?

 I made it to the building, it seemed to be relatively stable, at least way more stable than the last building I was in.  I was on the second floor, when I realized that I had been followed.  It was only one set of footsteps, but they sounded really big.  Quiznak, I need a better day.  I hurried up two more flights.  I wish I could say I was being quiet or actually fast, but I'm not that big on lying.

 By the fifth floor I knew I wasn't going to win this race.  I ducked off into a room two doors away from the stairs.  I waited bayard transformed and ready.  The Galra that stepped up the stairs was one of the biggest I've ever had the misfortune of seeing, and bonus he was mostly metal, like seventy percent, where the quiznak am I supposed to shoot this guy, metal! I took aim and shot him in the shoulder. Looking back going for the kill shot would have been better, but I couldn't just kill someone like that, not without giving him a chance.  Unfortunately, I think I pissed him off and he charged, and Metal Galra was freaky fast. I didn't have time to get another shot off before he plowed halfway through a wall and into me.  I'm glad I wasn't in an outer room, because I'm pretty sure he would have plowed me right out of the building.  As it was, I went through another wall and if I wasn't previously suffering from a head injury, I can be certain that I am now.

 As my back connected and passed through the second wall, I was able to transform the sniper rifle into something a little more close-quarters.  The pistol pressed against his head was sufficient.  I vomited.  Seeing someone's head blown off and having part of it land on me was not in the job description.  Having to do it so that I didn’t die sucked.  

 I wonder what Keith's doing.  I hope he's okay.  Vomit stinks. I blinked a few times and found myself lying in a puddle of Galra blood next to a pile of vomit.  Gross, gross, gross, I scrambled back.

 "Keith?" I asked into coms that I remember now weren't working and a helmet I had strapped to my side because it was broken.

 "Lance?"

 Wait, broken radios don't talk.

 "Lance!"  I blinked again because my brain cannot make this make sense.  I look inside the broken helmet because maybe Keith is in there? How did he fit?

 "Lance!" Now Pidge is in there?

 "Pidge, how are you and Keith in my helmet, it's broken but you can't be there, and I can hear you so…I don't remember was there…you…I hit my head." I can't focus on the stupid helmet, it's so blurry.

 "Lance?"  The voice is much closer.

 "I beat you!"  It seemed important to let Keith know.   "I got to the halfway point first and you weren't here, but you always beat me and are you dead?  Are you dead and like a ghost hunting me, because that is so unfair Keith!  You don't get to win every time!  I get to win!  I beat you here!  You aren't allowed to be dead!”  Oh, quiznak were they dead?  Tears were pouring down my face and the helmet fell from my hands.  "Please don't be dead."

 "Hey, we're not dead."  Hands, Keith's hands, were on my face.

 I swallowed back the sobs and looked up and he was there.  Purple eyes and stupid mullet and all beautiful and based on Pidge's laugh I think I said that out loud.  

 "It's okay buddy."  Hunk, was there, I tried to turn and look at him, but that made me really dizzy and I think I puked on his shoes.

 "Sorry."  I muttered.

 "It's okay."  Hunk's voice was warm.  "Vomit is not something I am afraid of."  He chuckled and I couldn't figure out where he was, but he was close.

 "Hey."  Keith again. Is he still in front of me? "I'm here."  I felt one of my hands being lifted and laid against his face.

 "So, I did beat you?" I asked.

 "Yep. You beat us all."  His voice sounded rough, like he was crying.

 "Don't cry man, I never win.  It won't happen again."  I tried to reassure him, but I think my voice was a little slurred.

 "Okay, see that it doesn't."  He murmured and I felt myself being pulled into a hug.  I felt like the room was spinning around me, but Keith was holding me to the ground, and I knew I was going to be okay.

 TO BE CONTINUED in Day 20 TEAM

[linipik]

Cómo decidiste en que casa de Hogwarts iría cada personaje? pd: amo tu Au uwu💕💞

How did you decided the hogwarts house for each character? 

GRACIAS POR LA MEJOR PREGUNTA DEL SIGLO!!…hope you don’t mind but i will answer it in english, for all my dear followers to know.I am on board with the theory that the house you get into is not about some inner working of your soul but what is the  thing you hold more important.Usually families end up in the same house ( malfoy, weasly) because they hold some values in their homes as the most important, but the hat takes everything into account. for example hermione would also fit in ravenclaw, but  she finds courage as one of the most  important traits someone can have.Imo, it is a smart way to sort young people. You are not separating all the courageous or all the creative wizards into different houses . more like, giving a kid who finds creativity important to be surrounded by like minded people.The hat holds the knowledge of the founders and even if it can be biased, i suppose the hat actually looks to place students where they will reach the true potential they want, where they will develop as the best version of themselves that the student can think of.And this goes for the way i sorted the paladins in my hogwarts AuShiro: We are talking about the man who pushed matt out of the way and became champion of gladiator alien fights. Shiro is the definition of brave to the point of self destruction, A very gryffindor thing to be. Nothing of this means he is not ambitious or hard working. It just means for me, that his moral code is ruled by bravery. He adopted keith as a brother because he got the nerve to steal his car!.  It just show me those are qualities he holds dear. 

Keith: He goes into gryffindor instantly. Keith is the kind of person that finds courage important , he would jump into action without thinking much of the consequences as he has done many times into vld canon.  he has nerve of do things others would think twice or never do. Also we know Keith looks up to shiro and admires him deeply. Also, defensiveness is the main negative trait  of all us gryffins, and keith build walls around him as a sport. Pidge: She is hella smart, incredibly creative but she is the person who single handedly outsmarted the garrison because they were not telling her the truth, and she was going of to get her family no matter voltron or the universe. And not for a second she stopped looking for them. She has the power to achieve anything she sets her mind to, no matter the means to that end. and that screams to me she is a sytherin . Nothing can hold her back. Hunk: The same hunk that remained level headed and loyal while their friends teared each other apart  lost in the void of space, and the same hunk that saw the way the balmerans were living under the galra and choose to defend the universe and the same hunk that equally look to learn about the galra traditions. He is a person who looks for fairness and values loyalty above anything else.  I would go and say Hunk is a rulebook hufflepuff. 

Allura: She is brave and intelligent, very gryffindor and very ravenclaw., but her motivations are ruled  by seeking knowledge, about voltron and her people. And then when she is chosen to get into oriande to gain its secret knowledge  it is her pursue for the truth the one that gets her to were she is.. She is smart and creative and the times she is thinking logically that she shines and her true potential as a leader, (better than alfor, may i say) is revealed. She is a true ravenclaw at the end.

 Now Lance. Lance is my special case and that is the reason I made him a hatstall.  He had the exact potential and core values to be in any house. and it is fun how in the fandom i’ve seen him literally in any house, while the other just shift between one or two. Lance is adaptable (he changes and adjusts well to any situation like the change of lions or the times he had lead the team) , kind (he is the one to comfort keith and allura when they were in a bad spot, he is very people driven, he helped pidge to get the videogame, an overall good bean) , smart (from spotting fake rover to creating accurate plans on the moment ) and brave ( the kid literally entered the blue lion no second thoughts about it and he put himself between an explosion and coran). But he, himself, dont see the slytherin, ravneclaw or hufflepuff values as the most important. He wants to be seen as the cool hero of the story, held to the traditional values of heroes… He even says Shiro is his hero.  But also all those traits all the things that would place him in any other house have a thing in common for me, and is his will to help and save people no matter how small the problem. for me he has a very Gryffindor trait: Chivalry.

Adam: My dear boy adam. He has one of the important traits about slytherins that differentiate them of the other houses and the  trait that antagonizes the most with gryffindors: Self preservation. Slyths are aslo bold and determined. You need certain amount of all of that to give an ultimatum like Adam gave Shiro about their own relationship and stick to it.  Slytherins are success driven and Adam basically telling shiro to settle down for what he already achieved would not be too slyth ..BUT thinking on what success means,  if it goes into self destruction like Shiro was doing, going with prof. holt, it makes sense to find it pointless.

Lotor: .Cunning? Adaptable? all his motivations are ambition driven and he is the kind of man who think the end justifies the means. he is basically the textbook slytherin.  Matt: is a Ravenclaw, he is clever, he is creative , like he knows how to leave clues for his sister. And what he places higher in priorities is inherently different from Pidge. MAtt childhood goal was to meet aliens,   he is profoundly driven by his curious mind.Veronica: Also a ravenclaw, she is smart  and analytical and witty. We know limited things about her, but she must need a lot of creativity to survive and lead the resistance against the galra, and the way she talked to lance, it is like she is used to be rightShay: A hufflepuff: she is brave and curious, but when she sees what the galra are doing and deeming it as unfair she takes action. it is the core value of seeking freedom the one that places her in hufflepuff for me.  (That the colors of their lions fit the houses its just the best detail.)

… i also choose one of the most important traits of the house to each character in my au, just to make it more fun for me.This is getting quite long so im gonna leave it here. thank you so much for letting me rant about hogwarts houses and paladins

[ao3feed-safeklance]

Wow that was so easy

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2ZlQjn3

by lonelygiraffes

Team punk devise a plan to get keith and lance to address the lion in the room. Short one shot i wrote for myself but I'm posting here to get it out of my notes and share it with others who were hurt by the clusterfuck that was the ending of voltron. Maybe ill write more. Depends on how i feel. Thank you voltron fandom for going through this with me. It was very unfair what they did to all their lgbt fans. The baiting and false promises. I hope this helps you come to terms with the ending.

Words: 1940, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt

Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)

Additional Tags: Confessions, Telepathy, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2ZlQjn3

[langstwhynot]

The cave

Warnings: blood, Halloween, Halloween, Halloween (that’s my Halloween fic), death¿

~~~

“There’s no way in hell I’m stepping one foot into this cave!”

Lance whined, falling to the ground and letting go of Hunk’s hand which he tried to drag his best friend with. “Oh come on, Hunk!”

“Yeah hunk,” Keith scoffed, taking out his flashlight and moving deeper into the cave. “Don’t be such a baby.” He said, his voice echoing through the tunnel.

“It’s going to be alright, big guy.” Pidge punched his arm with her little hand, even if she knew it didn’t do any pain to him. “Shiro will protect you.”

“I only came because I want to make sure you won’t be doing anything stupid, like getting eaten.” Hunk flinched from Shiro’s comment and imagined the worst. “Plus, if anybody wants to eat someone, I sacrifice Pidge.”

“First, rude.” She took out her own flashlight from the bag, and turned it on. “Second, Lance will be easier to eat. He’s only bones and skin.”

Lance got up from the ground and cleaned his clothes from dirt. “Because I don’t sit at home all day and type nerdy stuff on my laptop.” He made circles with each of his hands and put it on his eyes to copy Pidge’s glasses.

“Anyways-!” Keith popped his head through the cave again and looked at Hunk suspiciously. “Are you coming or what?”

“Or what?” Hunk teased, but terrified of the answer.

“Or, else.” Pidge glared up to him, making Hunk gulp.

“Fine.”

They all cheered.

“Last in the cave is a dead moth!” Lance shouted and ran into the cave, the flashlight in his hand. “Unfair! You could’ve given an alert first!” Pidge yelled after him, trying to keep up.

After a few seconds, they all stood deep inside of the dark cave.

Lance was the first to enter a dark long cold hallway of the cave. Keith came after, Hunk, then pidge, panting. Lance raised his eyebrow at her.

“I don’t do sports!” She yelled.

From where the group entered, a ball of light on the wall kept growing bigger and bigger, until Shiro stepped into the hallway with a curious expression, studying the cave.

“Oof, Shiro died.” Lance sighed disappointedly.

The man scoffed. “I’m not dead, Lance. But I will be if I‘d run into a cave and trip over rocks on my way here.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “No, it just means you’re boring.”

Shiro glared at him.

“Soooo... what exactly are we looking for?” Hunk asked, looking around the stone walls of the cave using his flashlight.

“Anything that can get Keith spooked.” The little girl smirked, and pulled the flashlight under her chin to make her look “scary”.

“Oh please, I’ve seen a lot of shit in my life.”

“Huh? Like what?” Lance asked, arms crossed.

“Like Shiro- ow!” Keith rubbed the back of his head where he was hit by the angry man.

“Asshole.” Shiro hissed, taking his flashlight and stepping away from the scene to look for something interesting around the cave.

“I’m just saying the truth, you gay mess.” Keith yelled back at him, his voice echoing throughout the cave.

“Yeah Shiro, you gay mess.” Pidge repeated.

“Yeah Shiro.” Hunk laughed. Shiro just rolled his eyes.

They all stayed quiet for some time until a new conversation began by Pidge’s question.

“Hey, do you guys think Bigfoot can fit in this cave? I mean Hunk almost reaches the top of it, and he isn’t that tall.”

“No, and you are.” Hunk said, sarcastically.

Keith stared laughing.

Their voices faded in Lance’s ears as he furthered into the cave, his flashlight on. He was looking around, watching his step, dragging the beam of light slowly on the dark gray walls of the cave, when he thought he saw something.

He took a few steps back and pulled the light on it.

“Hmmm.” He studied the cravings in the wall. “Hey guys? I think I found something!” He finally focused on their voices, realizing they’re deep in conversation. “Guys??” He called again, brushing his hand along the craving.

Suddenly, the cave lit up. The craving turned blue and the light from the flashlight did no use anymore. Lance gasped and stepped back.

“What the fuck.” Keith murmured.

“Who- who did that??” Pidge turned in circles, trying to find answers.

“I- I think I did.” Lance shuttered, and the cave shook. Parts from the ceiling falling on the ground, and the floor of the cold cave going up and down from shaking.

“W-what did you do?!” Hunk yelled in panic.

“I don’t know! I found cravings and brushed my hand over them!!” Lance tried to explain, though he didn’t really know either.

Pidge fell backward, her little legs weren’t able to keep her stable for so long. Hunk hugged the walls of the cave, whispering prayers under his breath. Shiro crouched to ground level and covered his head, as Keith took out his knife dramatically and scanned around the cave for any enemies. Lance couldn’t take his eyes off the blue, glowing, markings.

Then, a roar was heard.

Everything froze, the screaming, the yelling. The Little rocks on the floor who jumped as the ground shook, the pieces that fell from the ceiling froze in mid-air. Everything stopped.

“Wh-“ Lance looked down at the floating rocks. There was nothing underneath or above, just air. He wanted to try and touch the rock, see what’ll happen, but when he tried to move forward he noticed his legs were stuck inside the dirt.

“When did that happen?” He tried to pull his legs out, lifting one after another, with no success.

“Guys! Imma need some help! My legs are stuck!” He shouted while still trying to get his feet free. “Somehow!”

A sigh escaped his lips when he stopped fighting.

“...guys.” His voice was serious and straight to the point (not really), and when he didn’t get an answer again, he turned around as much as he could to look for his silenced friends.

There was no one behind him.

He blinked a few times and then scoffed. “Ok, that’s funny, you got me for a second. Now can you please help a buddy out?” He shook his head, how could he not figure it was just a prank?

Like someone flipped the light off, the cave got completely dark and Lance couldn’t see. Slowly, approaching his ears, the sound of an old tv static.

It got louder and louder, until Lance had to cover his ears because it was too much. He closed his eyes in pain and ground his teeth.

“STOP! IT HURTS!!” He yelled, hoping someone would hear him.

And the noise stopped as the commend said.

Lance uncovered his ears and opened his eyes to find out he was in a different place.

He was standing in the middle of a white grassed field, wind blowing through his hair and playing with his clothes. Not a building or a person seems to be in sight of the vast, lonely, area.

A laugh was heard.

It was a silly, innocent, light and playful laugh, the one a little happy girl can have. But it also held pain, as it echoed and faded in Lance’s ears.

“Who are you?”

Lance peaked from his shoulder and turned around to face a little girl crossing her arms. He looked down at her, she wore a white, short fluffy, dress and had a white bow tie on her head. Though her long hair was colored orange as the freckles on her pale skin.

“W-What’s going on? Where am I?” Lance asked, realization finally hitting him and pulling him out of the awe of the place.

“Father told me not to talk to strangers.” The little girl admitted for breaking the law, totally ignoring Lance’s question.

Lance shook his head. Of course she’ll be afraid, a stranger just entered her property and he yells and freaks out like crazy. Are the years of being an uncle all gone to waste?

He crouched to her level and smiled softly. “Hi there, I’m Lance. What’s your name?”

She uncrossed her arms and stared at him. “I don’t like you.” She finally said.

Lance was taken by surprise. Has he done something wrong? Probably, now he has to make it up for her.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Am I scaring you? What can I do for the fear to go away?” He sat on the grass, now being shorter than her.

The girl took a step back, terrified. “Help!! Help me!! Someone!!” She stumbled back and fell, tears sharp as glass sliding on her cheeks.

“Wha- no! Please, I mean no harm!” Lance got up, running forward to reach the girl and ask for forgiveness.

“Leave me alone!! No!!” The girl crawled away, shaking her head violently and the tears spray from her cheeks like she’s a water sprinkler.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” Lance yelled with panic, finally catching the girl’s shoulders. She looked at him with her wet before her eyeballs rolled back into her head and she melted in Lance’s hands into a white puddle of liquid.

Lance jumped back. “Wh-what-“ His eyes wide and his breaths are short. He didn’t mean to do that, he definitely didn’t mean to do that.

“You, MONSTER.”

He turned around to the voice. The white field was not there anymore, instead, it was a dead ground that wasn’t used in the last 30 years for his say, on fire.

The sky was red and buildings that weren’t there before were too on flames in the background, adding more horror to the scene.

But there was not a living soul in front of him.

“DEATH, BLOOD, DARKNESS AND PAIN. THEY ALL CAME WITH YOU.”

The voice was so loud, it shook the ground. The flames grew bigger, surrounding Lance in a cage where he had no way out of.

“YOU MURDERED AND SLEW, KILLED AND SHOT, AND THEIR BLOOD IS ON YOUR FILTHY HANDS!!!”

Lance looked down at his hands, or where they were supposed to be. In fact, he had no hands. Just a left-over of blood dripping from the holes in his arms where his hands should’ve been at.

He was going to vomit. He can literally see his bone.

“YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR ACTIONS.”

A pain in his stomach was growing, bigger and stronger. He hissed and hugged himself, then gave up to fall on his knees.

He opened his eyes slowly when noticing he hasn’t reached the ground yet. He was falling and falling and falling, the ground getting farther and farther and farther.

It was a hole he was falling in, he could see the ground, but couldn’t touch it.

“...help...” he sobbed quietly. The pain in his stomach was aching so bad and he didn’t know if it’s even possible to survive something like that.

Maybe it wasn’t, and someone was just trying to make him suffer.

Warm.

It became warmer as he kept falling... wherever he was falling to. He opened one eye to take a tiny little look at the source feeding him from underneath.

It was a white blank, blinding hole. Like the sun, but colder. If it was the sun Lance wouldn't be able to get that close to it. That... close...

Then it stopped. The pain, the warm feeling left his skin, being replaced with a colder one. He opened his tired eyes, trying to figure the things in front of him with his blurry vision.

He was back on the floor of the cave again, lying on annoying rocks that hurt his back and the cold, dark, hallway he began at.

He sat up slowly and rubbed the back of his head. What just happened? Where is everyone? Are they alright? Are his visions mean something?

“Lance?”