#vld relationships

[magugbigug]

Re your Voltron legacy analysis post:

As someone who has not ventured into the original franchises before vld, I truly struggle to see where any chemistry between Keith and Allura may lie.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t because I am set on any other ship. Though I have to admit I can at least understand the dynamic of basically every other ship. Somehow, I can picture Keith with literally everyone except Allura.

What is the Allura and Keith dynamic like for you? How do they fit together in a vld context? Can they fit in a vld context? I understand that both their characterisations are changed in vld. Would it be similar to the shiro and Allura dynamic in season 1/2? Is it just something I need to watch the previous shows to understand?

Cheers

That’s a fair question. VLD definitely changed both Keith and Allura from their past iterations, which makes their dynamic less immediately recognisable compared to earlier versions of Voltron. But for me, their potential in VLD comes from their parallels and the subtleties in their interactions.

Both of them struggle with loss, identity, and leadership in ways that mirror each other. Keith with his Galra heritage and role as Black Paladin, Allura with the weight of being the last of her kind and the pressures of being a leader. They clash, but they also push each other to grow. There’s an underlying understanding between them that builds over time, even if it’s not the most overtly romantic dynamic in the show. Honestly, I think it could have worked if the show had leaned into it more, but maybe I’m just bitter (or projecting).

I think a lot of Kallura’s potential in VLD comes down to the subtleties in their dynamic—things that aren’t outright stated but still present if you’re looking for them. And I’ll admit, I’m not always the best at picking up on those details myself (often if it's not explicitly stated I likely won't get it, sometimes I don't get it even if it is explicitly stated), but thankfully, people way better at media analysis have pointed out a lot of moments that hint at something deeper.

For example, I saw a post someone once noted that in the alternate reality episode, when an explosion goes off, everyone else is focused on the blast—but for a single frame, Keith is looking at Allura instead. Little things like that, while not definitive, suggest where his priorities lie. Another thing that stood out to me is how there are only two people Keith truly seems to care about impressing: Shiro and Allura. He’s always visibly upset when he thinks Allura hates him—especially after his Galra heritage is revealed—and that says a lot for someone who normally shuts people out.

There’s also the fact that Keith and Allura are the only two who make the decision to run away together to protect the team. It speaks to a similarity in their thinking, their sense of loyalty, and their willingness to take on burdens alone. If Keith had stayed at the Castle instead of joining the Blade, I think we could have seen that dynamic explored even more, and maybe their bond would have strengthened in a way that made their connection more obvious.

I also think a big part of why it never fully developed was Keith leaving to join the Blade. If he’d stayed at the Castle, we might have seen more of their dynamic evolve, especially with how they both dealt with grief and responsibility. They were on parallel arcs, but the distance meant they never really got the chance to explore that connection. If things had played out differently—if Keith had been there during Allura’s lowest points or if they’d had more time to rely on each other—it’s easy to imagine a stronger bond forming.

That said, I totally get why it’s not an obvious pairing in VLD. The Shiro/Allura dynamic in the early seasons does have some similar beats, but Keith and Allura’s potential would’ve been more about equals learning to trust and rely on each other rather than mentor/student or protector/leader. If you ever do check out the older series (and I highly recommend you do), you might see where some of the history comes from—but I’d argue their potential in VLD exists regardless.

If you ever want to get a sense of how other people interpret it (people smarter than me), taking a peek at the Kallura tag (admittedly biased as it is) might help! But I totally get why it’s not something that stands out if you’re not looking for it.

Again, I could just be really bitter, but I'll let you decide that.

I hope this is a good answer because, as I said, I'm terrible at analysing (just ask my English teacher).

Cheers!

[heynhay]

i am the dog

[azu-marill]

they're the friends ever to me

[florian-past]

They got caught! :0

[autisticlancemcclain]

My Dearest La

Dear La

Lance,

I really hate it when you’re right.

I know you are smiling as you read this. I can see it so clearly in my head. You are rolling your eyes now, probably, in fact you are probably even straining yourself. But I bet you are still smiling.

…

I miss you.

You told me leaving was stupid. Well, we screamed about it. I don’t like that I left angry. I should have waited so we could have been — well, I don’t know. I just don’t like that I left without saying goodbye properly. I don’t like that I didn’t get to kiss the smush between your eyebrows that you get when you’re mad

The bottom line is that I’m sorry. And I can’t do anything about it now because what’s done is done but. I wish I did. I’m sorry this message is so dorky. I can’t help how I feel about you. I promise I’ll be more — suave, or whatever, in my next one. There’s this Blade I hang out with sometimes, Sedrit, she is awkwardly funny like you. She has promised to give me some pointers because she’s as nosy as you are and read over my shoulder all the other times I tried to write this letter. I don’t trust her judgement but I’d walk into a wall on purpose in front of Pidge’s cameras if I could guarantee it’d make you laugh I think we could always use a smile. I’m ending this letter now because I’m embarrassed and if I write one more line I’ll lose my nerve.

Love,

Warm regards,

Sincerely,

Love,

Keith

———

“Sir? Sir! Hold on! Sir!”

The Balmeran turns, looking back at him curiously. He leans heavily on his cane, back hunched but chin set squarely.

“Yes, Blade?”

Keith jogs all the way over to him, stopping a respectful distance away. He reaches up to deactivate his mask, which he is not supposed to do, but the mask is fucking creepy, okay, it makes people uneasy so clearly that even Keith can see it, so fuck Kolivan’s lectures. He’s vindicated by the visible relaxing of the Balmeran’s shoulders.

“I need — a favour,” Keith says haltingly. His own shoulders begin to hunch. “If you don’t mind.”

The Balmeran’s stiff brows lift in surprise. He looks deliberately down at his newly-bandaged leg, then back up at Keith. Keith flushes.

“A… favour.”

All the pockets on Keith’s uniform are square-shaped and small. Deep, but not very long. Anything he puts in there gets squished. Except for the long, thin pocket-thing hidden against the outside of his thigh.

The letter has been stuffed carefully in there for two weeks. It’s a miracle it hasn’t been destroyed. The top left corner of it has gotten frayed, because Keith keeps catching himself rubbing it with the pad of his thumb.

“I know you’ve been through so much,” Keith says quietly. “I’m sorry even to ask.”

The Balmeran’s stance is still carefully guarded, practiced —

“As have you.”

— but his eyes are soft and knowing.

Keith lets out a long, heavy breath. He slides the letter gently out of its spot, turning it over in his hands; inspecting the familiar creases, ink stains. It’s a rough, recycled envelope. Made out of old briefing notes, by the looks of it, thick black lines of censorship streaking across the pale yellow surface. An ugly thing, really.

“I need to get this to the Red Paladin of Voltron,” he says, forcing himself to hand the thing over. “I don’t — I can’t send it through the Empire delivery service, for obvious reasons. And Voltron’s location is always encrypted. I —” He stops, mouth clamping shut, because suddenly the words have become impossible to force out through the lump in his throat. He hasn’t talked to the team in weeks. He has no way of contacting them without putting them — or himself — in danger. There will be absolutely no way for Lance to send him a letter back, even if he wants to. The whole thing seems, abruptly, a painful kind of hopeless.

And yet.

“I will pass it along,” promises the Balmeran, voice flooded with kind understanding. He wraps his hands around Keith’s, squeezing once, before gently prying the letter out of his clenched fingers. “I don’t know how long it will take, but I have a someone who works in Emerg-med. She travels frequently, and should be able to take it farther than I can.”

“Thank you,” Keith chokes out, blinking rapidly.

The Balmeran smiles. “Keep strong, child.”

———

“Granddaughter,” greets the old man warmly. The young woman turns at his voice, laughing in delight when she sees him and enveloping him carefully in an embrace.

“Grandfather! You’re well!”

“I’m alive,” he corrects, teasingly.

She takes the jest in stride. “You are alive, and so you are well. I am so happy to see you.” There is genuine love in her voice. She holds tightly to his arm. “Are you staying in care long?”

He shakes his head. “No, dear. I dropped by only to see you. And,” he digs around in his pocket, carefully extracting a letter, placing it in her waiting hands, “to ask a favour.”

“A letter?”

“For the Red Paladin, from the Black.”

“I see.” She frowns thoughtfully, turning the paper over in her hands. “Last I heard, they were rebuilding on Ilso. I am going only as far as Igrendia, to visit my cousin.”

“Pass it along then,” he suggests.

She promises she will.

———

A young girl, to her cousin: “Imeld! Can you pass something along for me?”

A cousin, to her lover: “If you could drop it off at the supply camp when you stop by.”

A lover, to his father: “A friend of mine works in that fuel stop. Let him know I sent you?”

A father, to a friend of a friend: “Only a couple stops left, I reckon.”

A friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend: “It’s almost there.

———

A friend of a friend of a friend, to a Paladin:

“I think this is yours. It’s travelled a while.”

———

A smile aches at the apples of Lance’s cheeks. Salt drips onto his tongue, and he swallows, breath shuddering.

“You — dorky asshole,” he whispers, and tucks the envelope in the secret pocket on the thigh of his undersuit.

———

Lance,

I have no idea if my last letter got to you. I hope it did, if not, here’s the rundown: you were right, I regret leaving, and I miss you.

Anyways.

Today I was on a mission in a planet that was just a huge wildflower field. Just — hundreds of hundreds of flowers, every colour you can imagine and then some. It smelled like you. I cried.

Do you remember when we snuck out of that negotiation — thing? Whatever it was? And you poked me hard in the arm and loudly complained about how much of a bummer I was being. And you dared me to roll down the hill with you. And when I was laughing at the bottom of the hill because you had just so much grass in your hair you crawled over me and kissed me like you’d been waiting to do it.

I remember how we kissed until my lips bruised after. And then we just lay there, until I got fidgety, and then you pulled us both up and walked around picking flowers and sticking them in my hair and snickering. This was the flower. Doesn’t it look like the one you brought back?

I thought of you a lot today. It hurt a little bit. A lot bit. I missed you until it ached.

I hope I see you in the flowers again soon.

I love you more than the stars

Love, and lots of it,

Keith

———

“Hey, Sedrit.”

His voice is as hushed as he can make it. He doesn’t want to wake the others. But she won’t be asleep — she never sleeps before big missions. She says it’s because the adrenaline keeps her alert, puffing up her chest. But Keith knows that she prays because she is afraid that she will die.

She doesn’t answer, so he kicks the bottom of the mattress above him. He hears a huff, and then seconds later, a curtain of hair flops over the side of the top bunk, and her wide, pupil-less eyes blink into focus.

“What do you want, shithead.”

He smiles at her guiltily. “A favour?”

“Ugh.”

But she looks at him in begrudging acceptance.

“I need you to — drop something off, when you go to El-dan. Ask another Blade there if they could pass on a letter.”

She must read his tone, because the annoyance vanishes from her expression. She reaches over and flicks him in the nose.

“Yeah, lovebird. I can pass on your letter.”

———

“Hey, man, could you send this along the next off-world?”

“What for?”

“For true love. Or because I asked you to.”

———

“I don’t know what it is. It’s classified. But it needs to get to the Red Paladin.”

———

“I heard it’s news of an ambush!”

“Well, it can’t be news now. It’s weeks old at least.”

“Yes, well, drop it off anyways. It’s Voltron business, you know.”

———

Lance’s door slide opens.

“I have — correspondence,” says Allura, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I was informed of a possible ambush? Perhaps we should read the letter together.”

Prepared remark about greetings and knocking and why they were invented flee Lance’s tongue, and his controller clatters to the ground in his haste to meet her.

“Lemme see,” he demands, snatching the letter straight from her hands. Her protests fall on deaf ears.

You were right, I regret leaving, I miss you.

He grins.

“What is that?”

“No ambush,” he says breathlessly, floating back over to his bed. He traces the shape of every letter, the blots of smudged ink. The scratch of the words is just as important as the content of the letter, Lance has found. He’s long since memorized the first letter, but he still finds himself drawing it out of his pocket, unfolding it with a shaky sort of reverence, studying every slanted T and looped L, closing his eyes and letting the impression of the ink burn into his eyelids. The cadence of the words have become song, hummed over and over and over again in his head.

This time, there’s a drawing. It does indeed look similar to the one hanging, dried, at the head of his bed. He presses the tip of his thumb into the center of it, breathing hard, rapidly blinking away the tears so they don’t drop and ruin the paper.

“I remember,” he manages, half-choked. “I remember, I remember.”

When he looks up again, hours have passed, and Allura has long since left, closing the door quietly behind her.

———

Lance, my love,

I know we do not talk about the observation deck.

It is your sacred place, I think. When you sit in the middle of the floor and look up at the glowing stars and the planets cast shadows on your face and make your eyes shine gold as sunlight the only way to describe you is holy. The first time I ever saw you like that it made my stomach hurt. When I think about it now I miss you so much the ache spreads all the way to my teeth.

When I was a kid I read about how grief makes you hurt but time makes you forget. I read about how men begin to forget the shape of their late wives’ smile. Or the slope of her nose. I read about how children begin to forget the slant of their fathers’ shoulder. How mothers forget the way their babies curled their fist.

Missing you hurts like unravelling. You’re all I think about. I will never forget the fit of your hand in mine as long as I remember how to speak. And I will know the ridges of your teeth so long as I can taste. I will know the length of your back as long as I can walk. I will remember the curve of your lips as long as I can blink. I will know the way you glowed in floating blue starlight until my brain shuts down and my organs fail me.

Patroclus said I will know him in death and at the end of the world.

I will know you every waking second of my life, and I will make myself remember for every nanosecond in between.

Nothing will compare to holding you in my arms again.

Keith

———

Sedrit has officially been declared missing in action. A new soldier has taken her bunk.

Keith’s stomach hurts all the time, now.

“Just — one time,” Keith begs.

“You have way more training than that job requires,” says Kolivan.

“I know. I just —” He realises, suddenly, that even if he had an argument he does not have the strength to make it. The letter creases in his clenched hands. “Please.”

For a long moment the Blade leader does not speak. Keith meets his searching gaze, but his eyes are blank, unfocused. Exhaustion pulls at his features. His hood droops on his shoulders.

“In an out, Keith,” Kolivan relents finally. “A supply mission should take less than four vargas. I want you back here then and not a tick later, so you understand?”

Keith could cry in relief, but Kolivan looks stiff enough already. Should Keith express an emotion in front of him he might be forced into a total system reset, and his programming might not be prepared for that.

“Thank you,” he says instead, and rushes off before he can change his mind.

Matt is leading the supply run. This letter might land right in Lance’s hands.

———

“I’ll get it to him, Keith.”

“Thank you, Matt. I owe you.”

“Take care of yourself, man. They all miss you.”

“…I miss them too.”

———

Matt hands him the letter without a word. No one else says anything, either, when he clenched it tightly between his thumb and forefinger and walks right out of the bridge. Not even Shiro, whose gaze Lance can feel bore a hole into the back of his head.

You’re all I think about, writes Keith’s neat cursive, and Lance presses the paper to his chest and cries.

———

My Lance,

I hate it here.

I miss you.

———

Alarm bells shriek through the headquarters. Keith has become numb to them, at this point.

He slides the letter in between the pages of an intelli-file and hopes.

———

CLASSIFIED

FOR VOLTRON’S EYES ONLY

BIOMETRICS REQUIRED

WILL SELF DESTRUCT

———

There is a letter waiting on his bed when Lance gets back from his mission on Efid-d. He has not slept in three days. His vision is blurry.

He falls asleep with the paper open in his hands, mirroring the curve of Keith’s body.

———

My love,

Naxzela. Soon. I think Kolivan knows there’s something wrong. I’m gonna I might I think I can stay, for a bit. Hopefully.

Well, I will see you again. Damn it all. I don’t care about the world I don’t care about the Empire I don’t care about anything, anymore, I just want to come home —

Naxzela.

It will be weeks until I see you face to face on this mission but already everything seems less bleak. I will admit some of the anger has crept in. I feel awful. I’m trying to remember what you said, in the very beginning, before you kissed me in the flowers. When you held my hands in the purple light and said we make a good team.

I know you say you don’t remember it, you goober. You do. You get embarrassed when I bring it up, that’s how I know. You always get embarrassed when you’re caught being vulnerable.

I loved you then, you know. I didn’t know it then but I did. I thought about your hand in mine for weeks. You have always been so central to me.

Soon, sweetheart. Soon I can hold you again.

Naxzela.

———

He doesn’t bother sending this one along. He tucks it in the secret pocket on the side of his pants, and with every passing day it grows heavier and the weight on his chest grows lighter.

———

When the shield closes over the planet and Keith says, it’s been an honour serving with you all, the scream starts at the bottom of Lance’s feet. It comes up to his knees when he sees the pod speeding towards it, up to his chest when Shiro barks at him to stay in formation. It catches in his throat as he wrenches Red away.

It echoes through space when the pod hits the shield in a shower of blue sparks and grey smoke, and Prince Lotor defects to their side one nanosecond too late.

———

The beep of the healing pod synchs with Lance’s heartbeat. It can’t quite drown out the screech echoing in Lance’s head; that keeps going, and going, and going.

Soon, sweetheart.

He sobs into the half-burned paper.

———

“You better keep your promise, you dorky asshole.”

———

Healing pods have always smelt, inexplicably, of burnt hair.

He hears the slide of the glass door opening, then the whoosh of air as he pitches forward before his arms are awake enough to stop him. Luckily, he falls right into bony arms, and the smell of flowers and sunshine quickly envelops him.

“You motherfucker,” says a voice, heavy with tears, and Keith smiles.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he croaks.

His Lance sobs. The hands on the sides of his arms slide slowly down to his wrists, gripping tightly. Keith forces his eyes open, blinking away the bleariness. Lance has his own eyes squeezed shut, like he’s too afraid to look, head bowed.

Well, that simply won’t do.

“Lance, baby, look at me.”

“You motherfucker,” Lance repeats, and finally he does look up but he’s glaring angrier than Keith has ever seen him. Keith grins wider. “You motherfucker, you damn near lied to me.”

Slowly, half convinced he’ll move to fast and wake up on his bunk, alone, he reaches up and cups Lance’s cheeks. He swipes his thumbs carefully over wet cheekbones, exhaling shakily, revelling in the feel of Lance’s skin under his, finally, finally, finally.

“I’m home, Lance,” he whispers. Tears spring from his own eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

“Stay,” Lance begs, like he should have months and months ago, like he meant to, like he wanted to.

“There’s no other option,” Keith promises, and as he leans in and presses their lips together, finally, tasting the salt and licking the ridge of his teeth and swallowing every shuddering breath, he vows to never send a letter again.

He’ll tell Lance all he needs to hear himself.

———

all art by @mothmanavenue

concept from this post

[year-of-the-lion]

Starting on season 2 is jogging my memory a bit regarding the whole "Keith's hunt for answers" fiasco. Also still wildly off-putting to be reminded of how little the Paladins really understood the war they were fighting— again, kids' show, but it's an interesting area for depth to be added in fic.

I feel it does show their youth, that they just take on the narrative they're told by the ones they trust and don't really care to challenge it— except Shiro at first, and then Keith, for their own reasons.

This moment when Keith's unwrapping his knife is another one of those that really makes you think. Obviously, you see he's starting to question where it came from, where he came from, but I would imagine he already knows the answer to that question, even if he won't admit it to himself, and the rest of his search is about coming to terms with that and trying to figure out the how.

(It's also just a beautiful scene— I especially like how he has the main light in his room turned off. Logically there's nothing that turning the light off will do to keep this secret contained, but don't secrets feel easier to face when the shadows make the world around you smaller?)

It really makes me wish we had seen even just a bit more of Keith's heritage being explored— Shiro's reaction especially, though I'd love to have been a fly on that wall when he told the rest of the team. Or maybe a slightly better payoff to the two seasons worth of ingrained hatred of the galra that we see.

Oh well. Plot holes are where we store our headcanons, and I'm already looking forward to touching on these in fic.

[beaulesbian]

It feels so surreal to see sheith trending in 2024, and it's like for the third time in the past week or so ❤️🖤

[disgruntled-screaming]

Keith being able to reach the spiritual field or whatever it's called should have been something for Lance. I am so tired.

I love Keith, don't get me wrong. But my god the amount of favoritism Keith got by the writers showed.

Lance deserves better.

[vikspretty]

boil over

in which your assignment is getting too much for you to handle but keith is there to help you out

masterlist

pairing: keith x reader

tags: fem! reader, college au!, established relationship, keith is a biker (yum), very fluffy, no use of y/n, reader gets a bit short with keith. keith is a sweetheart, slight angst.

notes: finally writing for keith. its sadly much shorter than i wanted but i spent ages looking for what to write for him because i wasn't sure what i was in the mood for. i had already made notes on season 7 episode 6 where they get like lost in space but then when it came to writing i hated the idea so now we have a college au. he's so pretty in this scene!!!

wc: 839

"Buck and Wild, Swing to be free, Your hands just can't keep ahold of me." — Kate Denson's "Boil Over"

The sound of a motorbike pulling up dragged you out of your train of thought. If this was any other time, you would have jumped out of your seat to meet your boyfriend at the door. Today, however, was not one of those days.

You had a huge assignment to do for college, and even though you had plenty of time to get it done, you prided yourself in having things completed as soon as physically possible. This assignment was deciding to not let you commit to it. Everything you would type out would be deleted pretty much immediately.

With a groan, you deleted the last paragraph you had typed out. There were spelling mistakes throughout it and it didn't read right. Anymore force put into your backspace key and you're sure it would break.

Keith couldn't wait to see you. You had been asleep when he left in the morning for work at the Garrison and you hadn't picked up any of his calls all day. He was aware of your assignment and knew how you got when they became difficult and so made a pit stop on his way home.

Greeting Kosmo at the door, Keith placed his helmet and keys down, toeing off his boots simultaneously. "Hey buddy. Where is my pretty girl?" He asked Kosmo. As if the wolf could understand, he immediately got up and started off towards the living room.

Upon entering, Keith saw you sat with your back to the arm rest, computer in your lap and a multitude of notebooks splayed out on your coffee table. A half empty mug of coffee also sat closest to you on the table, but Keith assumed this to be cold as it normally ended up to be when you would become so engrossed in your work.

Kosmo walked up to your side, partially blocking your view of your notebooks. You were yet to notice your boyfriend's presence in the room despite you realising that he will be home now.

"Kosmo, honey, please move," you pleaded. You were finally beginning to form a thought that could lead you on your next point you wanted to make but by the time Kosmo had moved, you had lost it.

You let out another groan. Louder this time, accompanied by you shutting you laptop and putting your head down.

"Hey baby, you okay?"

The voice made you jump, and instead of soothing you like Keith had intended it to, it only angered you.

"Do I look okay, Keith?" You snapped. You had sat up now, laptop still in your lap.

What you hadn't noticed but Keith had was your hands. They were curled up above your laptop but were shaking. At this realisation, Keith was quick to move your notebooks neatly into a pile, placing the bag of food he had in his hand on the free space on the coffee table.

"I’m struggling with this assignment and I know I have time but I want it done now and nothing I write is good enough and then- What are you doing? I need those!"

Still not saying anything, Keith kneeled in front of you, taking your laptop and moving that to the table too. He then grabbled your hands, holding them tightly.

"Look at me, darling."

You didn't hear his words, too busy rambling in a mumble about how you need to get back to work so you could get it done. Keith realised this when your eyes didn't even flick to Kosmo who had not rested his head in place of where your laptop previously was. At this you would usually let out a coo and stroke his head. Instead you were staring at your books on the table. Knowing you wouldn't listen to him any other way, Keith placed his index and his thumb under your chin to move you to face him.

When you made eye contact with Keith's sympathetic gaze, your eyes started to well up. Suddenly the stress and guilt overwhelmed you and you broke down.

Rather than trying to shush you or get you to stop crying, Keith leaned up to hug you. This was what you needed. You had been over working yourself and it was finally catching up to you.

The familiarity of Keith's smell and his warmth was soothing to you. "Keith, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-" Your voice was croaky and broken as your tears refused to stop just yet.

"I know, darling, I know."

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. You didn't know what to say or do and so you said the only thing you did know. "I love you."

"I love you most. So much so that I brought you some food."

To this you let out a quiet giggle and hugged him again.

"It's okay to be overwhelmed. You're putting way too much pressure on yourself for something that you have so much time for. I'm here for you, and so is Kosmo. You are not alone. Now, how about, we eat? And then we can find a way to distract you for a while. How does that sound?"

Taking note of the insinuation, you just nodded, throwing yourself to him for a kiss.

this is so much shorter and rushed than i wanted it to be but i really struggled with finding a good idea to use for him so this is really disappointing. im gonna try make the next one a little longer but its not gonna be a voltron fic i fear. onto kate denson’s final perk though!

@cafekitsune made the dividers here!

thank you for reading!!

[lijau]

sheith on my dash lately has been making me feel like gojo when he heard suguru's voice after 10 years and had the homoerotic montage play in his head remembering the moments of his youth that was extremely pivotal to the entire narrative of jjk

[raddestrose]

Oh my gosh I finished season four,

I did nothing all day but watch to is show.

Eh, its crunch time so it doesn’t count.

Onto season five with three to go after

Lets goooo

but the day after tomorrow , I’ve stayed up far too late watching this and making bread and i have a long day so I shall resume either late laaate tomorrow or the day after

[silverbluedragon]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron) Characters: Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Māui, the rest of the team is mentioned Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Serious Injuries, mental health, Major Character Injury, Major Character Comma, shamanic journey, Shadow work, haka, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Smut, Reference to Hawaiian Myth & Lore, Reference to Polynesian Myth & Lore, Mythology References, Mythology - Freeform, myths, Mythos: A Mythology Klance Zine (Voltron) Summary:

*A hui hou (hawaiian, pronounced ah hoo-ee hoh) means “until we meet again” or “see you later.” It conveys a hope that you will meet again in the future.

Deep in his insecurities, Lance embarks on an alien version of a shamanic journey, trying for some version of shadow work. And all it does is land him in a comma. Which turns Keith into a sobbing mess, unable to help his boyfriend. Yet Keith would do anything... anything, to get Lance back. Even attempt the absurd... ========================================================== Sharing the first of two stories I wrote for the Mythos Zine (A Klance Mythology zine). @klmythologyzine It was an incredible honour to be part of this project. ✨💜 Hawaiian and Polynesian mythologies are very near and dear to my heart. I hope you enjoy the story. ✨💜

[heynhay]

playing dirty

[sheosheosheo]

Voltron fans being forced to rewatch Voltron (then pirate Voltron)

[brundark100]

The Gift of Staying

The cold winter air nipped at Keith’s face as he sat by the window in Shiro’s apartment. Snow had begun to fall, blanketing the scenery in powdery white. The heat of the fire barely filled the room, leaving spots of it cold and bitter. Despite only being 14, Keith was familiar with that.

Keith was never a fan of Christmas. It seemed like it only served to remind him of what he didn’t have. A family. A real home. The days leading up to it were only filled with dread and heaviness. Sure, Shiro tried. Shiro always tried. But it didn’t change how alone and angry he felt.

“Hey, Keith?” Shiro’s voice broke through the silence. Keith glanced up to see him standing in the doorway, a warm smile on his face. Shiro had been getting in the holiday spirit all month long, and had been trying (and failing) to get Keith in on it too. Decorating, baking, sitting by the fire, anything to try and cheer the kid up. But everything felt foreign, pointless.

“What?” Keith mumbles, looking back out of the window at the falling snow.

Shiro sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Listen…I know that this time of year is hard for you, so I was doing some thinking and…what if we make a tradition? It doesn’t have to be anything big, just something small, just for the two of us.”

Keith shrugs indifferently. “I don’t need a stupid tradition.” In a way, Keith pitied Shiro. He should be out there living his own life, not taking care of a kid. Shiro was barely an adult himself.

Silence hung in the air. Shiro moves closer, crouching next to Keith. “I know you’ve been through a lot…more than any kid should. But you have to remember, you’re not alone Keith. Not while I’m around.”

Keith felt a tightness in his chest at Shiro’s words. He hated this. He hated how much Shiro tried, hated how much he wanted things to work, but also hated how angry and broken he felt. “I’m fine.” Keith snaps, his eyes burning, threatening to fill with tears if he wasn’t careful. “Stop acting like you can fix my life, you can’t.”

Shiro didn’t move away. “I know I can’t. I’m not trying to. I’m just trying to be here for you.”

Keith didn’t respond. He just sat there with clenched fists, staring at the floor.

“I don’t need you.” He finally responds quietly, more to himself than to Shiro. “You’re just going to leave. Everyone does.”

Shiro gently places a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving.”

Keith stiffened, the silence between them only growing with each passing second.

After a few seconds, Shiro stands up and grabs something small off the coffee table. A small gift, wrapped in mismatched paper, and taped awkwardly. Shiro had struggled with the wrapping, but he had done it himself. He places it in front of Keith.

“It’s not much, I know,” Shiro says gently. “But I wanted to give you something anyways. You don’t have to open it right now but…it’s here when you want to.”

Keith looks down at the gift, then back up at Shiro, who was looking down at him with patient eyes.

Keith hesitantly reaches out, grabbing the gift from Shiro. Normally, Keith didn’t care about gifts, but something about this felt different. Something about this mattered.

With shaking hands, Keith tears away the gift paper, revealing a small, framed photograph. It was a picture of the two, taken not long after Shiro took him in. Keith was frowning in the photo, his arms crossed, but Shiro was smiling, his arm draped over Keith’s shoulder.

“Listen, I know it’s not perfect,” Shiro nervously adds. “But I thought you’d like it. A reminder that we’re in this together. No matter what.”

Keith stares at the photo. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed this. How much he needed someone to care about him. How much he needed someone to stay. All of his anger and bitterness, while not completely gone, felt like a lighter load to bear.

Shiro watches him for a second before smiling, reaching down to ruffle Keith’s hair.

Keith swallows hard, his eyes pricking. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to feel something other than his anger. Hope.

“I…thanks,” Keith says, his voice at a whisper.

Shiro gave him a warm, patient smile. “Merry Christmas, Keith.”

Keith looked down at the photo, his heart feeling something he hadn’t felt in a long time, feeling less alone. “Merry Christmas…Shiro.”

For the first time in years, Christmas didn’t feel quite as cold.

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Hey Keith.”

Keith, who is not a twelve year old child, easily ignores Lance’s dramatic flop forward, arms hooked over the back of the couch. He glances out of the corner of his eye and finds Lance already looking at him. He grins when he notices Keith looking. Keith rolls his eyes, not even bothering to try and tamp down his own smile.

“Keith,” Lance says again.

“Mm,” Keith responds.

Lance doesn’t say anything for a moment. Keith can hear his legs kicking. He’s so fucking — he’s so fucking. Ugh. Keith is going to — bite him, or something.

Lance hums, dark eyes tracing over the other people in the room. There’s something Keith can’t name in his expression, something sharp in those deep browns that Keith recognises; the look he gets when he lines up a perfect shot, when he stands grinning in the middle of the training room pointing his broadsword at Keith in challenge, when he leans in close, breaths heavy and teeth clamped lightly on the lobe of his ear. There’s amusement, there; mischief.

“Keith,” Lance says again, face schooled into something prim and serious — but his eyes don’t change. Keith hides a smile. “You need a boyfriend.”

Across the room, Shiro chokes. Pidge’s tablet clatters to the floor. Hunk’s jaw drops. Allura’s hand claps over her mouth. Coran, a notable outlier, watches them with a knowing smile.

Keith, suddenly, gets the game.

Like any of their planned missions, Keith plays along. He schools his face into something casual and unbothered, looking to the side with a shrug.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’m into.”

Some kind of deranged groaning noise eeks its way out of Shiro’s throat. Hunk appears to be praying for Lance’s soul. Keith is, suddenly, more amused than he’s ever been in his life.

“Oh?”

The corner of Lance’s mouth twitches. Keith’s hand matches it, struck with the urge to press his thumb to his cupid’s bow.

“Mhm. He’s cute, but…very dumb.”

A strangled garb of a sentence comes from Pidge. She reaches out like she wants to pinch Lance’s mouth with secondhand mortification. The twitching of Lance’s mouth gets faster.

“No way!” he exclaims, comically surprised look on his face. “What’s his name?”

Coran snorts. Keith looks over at him, unable to hold back his smirk any longer.

“…Lance.”

Lance gasps. So does the rest of the room.

“He’s got the same name as me?” He presses his hand to his chest, a ridiculous caricature, now, mouth dropped exaggeratedly wide. “Nice!”

“For fuck’s sake!” Hunk curses. Shiro wheezes and falls to the floor. He twitches a little. Something must be going around. Coran laughs out loud.

Keith grins, wide and ridiculous and showing his teeth. Lance meets his smile, equally as unrestrained, and this isn’t how they talked about doing this but it’s a thousand times more fun and a million times funnier.

Keith looks away, making eye contact with Allura and winking. She looks at him like he has four heads.

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. “He’s real cute. Curly hair, big brown eyes. One of those pretty boys.”

Lance scoffs. “Bet he’s ditzy, then.”

“Oh, a little. I love him, though. He makes me laugh.”

Lance does some dorky little half flip move, rolling over the back of the couch and landing with his head sprawled on Keith’s lap, grinning up at him.

“Does he?”

Keith hums, reaching down to run his fingers over Lance’s cheekbones, tracing the bump of his nose. “Yep.”

“Ugh. He sounds like the worst. You have garbage taste.”

“I dunno. I really, really love him.” He leans in close. His hair flips into Lance’s face, making his nose wrinkle. Keith laughs. “He makes me happy.”

“What the fuck is going on,” Shiro croaks.

Pidge nods frantically. “We’re in a mirror realm, we gotta be, something’s not —”

“You should date me instead,” Lance says. There’s a question in his eyes; a challenge.

They say, are we ready?

And Keith responds by brushing the hair out of his face, cupping his cheeks, and kissing him.

“About time,” Coran says.

Keith smiles, and kisses him harder.

———

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