#vld s4

[k3ithsk0gane]

I felt like I was reliving the final season of Voltron while watching the final season of The Umbrella Academy…

[autisticlancemcclain]

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing.”

Vaguely, Lance registers that he’s far too loud, that his dead-of-night shout has people peeking out their doors, rubbing groggy eyes. He knows he should tone it down and handle this gracefully and he meant to, thought about it in the hour or so he spent crouched but his door, waiting, straining his ears for the sound of Keith’s silent footsteps, convinced something would go down tonight.

Correct.

Keith jumps, duffel bag slipping off his shoulder and thumping as it hits the floor. He whirls around to meet Lance’s eyes and the shock melts quickly into stubbornness, into something defensive and irritated.

“Go back to bed, Lance,” he says evenly, and Lance envisions punching him. Lance envisions gripping the sleeve of his jacket and holding him in place. Both visions fight for standing ground in his mind, blurring into each other. His fists curl at his sides and he has to hold himself back, physically, root himself in place.

He thinks about saying, I know you’re afraid.

He thinks about saying, you will always have a place here.

He thinks about saying, please don’t leave me.

He says, “You’re running,” and it comes out sharp and accusatory, and there is a hiss from somewhere beside them, quick inhale through the teeth, but the world feels narrow, blurry around the edges, and Keith is the only one in focus, the only one Lance can see.

Keith’s face drops into something menacing, something as flat as it is furious, something familiar and almost comforting.

“Coward,” Lance spits before he can say anything. The cruelty of the words leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and he relishes in it, sucking it off his teeth.

He watches as Keith’s shoulders shift, an aborted lunge, as his chest inhales and exhales with a measured and practice breath. Watches as he calms himself, visibly, yanks himself back from the edge. Lance prepares to yank him right the hell back.

(Anything to keep him from going. To distract him, enrage him, occupy him.)

(Anything to make him stay.)

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about me,” Keith says, angry and short, less fiery than Lance expected, more controlled than he’s ever seen.

Lance panics. Keith tears his eyes away and bends down, wrapping his hand around the forgotten duffel bag strap, swinging it back over his shoulder. He turns and walks — stomps — away, heading down the hall, towards the hangars. Leaving.

Lance loses control of his mouth. A sound fights its way out of his throat, something croaking and furious and desperate, and like a cork shooting off a champagne bottle there is nothing he can do to stop what comes next.

“Your voice cracks when you lie.”

The anger has practically fled from his voice. In its place is pleading, begging, vulnerable. He chokes it back and tries to swallow and it does nothing, it bubbles out of him, spilling down his face and dripping onto the floor and soaking his bare feet, the ankles of his silk pajama pants. It comes all the way back up to his neck and chokes him, instead.

Keith freezes.

The champagne keeps bubbling.

“You — duck your head when you smile. And when you’re confident you snap your fingers on your left hand. When you read you mouth along to the words, except when you get really into a book, which is always, and then you stop. You always end up hiccuping after you eat because you fucking — hoover them back, you animal.“

Lance sniffles. The lump in his throat gets harder and harder to speak around, but the urge didn’t go away, the intense need to spill his guts, to slice himself open and spill at the ground by Keith’s feet.

Stay. Stay. Stay.

“You’re not as elusive as you think, you fucker.”

He forces himself to stop, then, bites his tongue until he tastes blood, until the words stop flowing. He inhales big and long and holds it, lets the air go stale in his lungs, lets his heart start to pound.

“I want to go,” Keith says, back still turned.

His voice cracks on ‘want’.

Lance gasps an exhale. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Keith’s turn is slow, and Lance can’t help but think it’s on purpose. To torture him, to test him. To say I don’t believe you. To say when I turn back you’re going to break character.

It’s heartbreaking, a little. And the heartbreak is written all over Lance’s face, and he watches as Keith sees it.

“You saw the problem first,” Keith argues, weakly. Lance hears what he doesn’t say: I’m leaving or else you’ll have to.

And Lance knows he was the one to go to Keith with his pinky finger extended and wide worried eyes. He knows he was the one who planted the idea of leaving in Keith’s head, never meaning for him to be the one to go but expecting him to try anyway. He knows he’s the one who’s standing here, in the middle of the hallway, arguing around the subject, half-conscious of his friends’ stares, their acknowledgment that more is being said than just their words.

And Lance shoves that all back, and says: “I told you I’d be your Red.”

Paladin. Your Red Paladin. But the words don’t come all the way out.

Keith swallows. “I know.”

“I won’t be anyone else’s.”

“…I know.”

Lance’s hands shake. “So you can’t leave me, you motherfucker.”

The duffel drops to the floor again. This time it’s intentional. This time it’s shoved off Keith’s shoulders.

He takes three great strides forward, grasping Lance’s face in his perpetually burning hands, and shoves their lips together, bruising.

“If I leave then the math checks out,” he whispers, pulling back, eyes closed, breathing heavy. His forehead is pressed to Lance’s like he can beam his thoughts into his brain.

Lance sighs. “If you leave I’ll follow.” His eyes flutter shut. “You goddamn suck at math.”

Keith snorts. “A little.”

“Stop trying to fix my problems without me.”

“It’s — I want to. Fix your problems.”

“I want you here.”

“…Okay.”

“Promise me, Keith.”

“Okay,” Keith says again, quieter. “I’ll stay, Red.” He kisses Lance again and this time it’s soft, loving instead of desperate. “I’ll stay.”

———

animatic by @jiveyuncle

[localfanbaselurker]

FINALLY someone GETS IT

[slayedthedaybae]

I am not gonna lie to you people, i fear season 4 of the umbrella academy is worse than season eight of voltron

[askmeanjudge]

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

tma as screenshots from my memes album (S4 edition)

the eye every time Jon stares longingly a Martins door:

Jon every time he forces a statement out of someone:

Daisy after returning from the coffin:

Peter Lukas after seeing Martin Kmommy Kissues Blackwood for the first time:

Peter Lukas in the finale:

Jon seeing a way to risk his life that may help another person in the hopes of dying in a manner that makes the people around him at least remember him as a somewhat decent human being:

Martin after he played Peter Lukas like the cheap kazoo that he is:

Jon trying to convince Martin to leave the lonely:

Jonah Magnus Seeing Jon and Martin trying to escape knowing full well that they are walking into his trap:

Jonmartin in the Scottish safehouse:

[scarletttbitch]

going back into the vld fandom in 2023 like

[numerous-bees-in-a-skin-suit]

happy birthday lance!! 🫶🫶

[aangarchy]

I am getting vee el dee edits on my fyp on tiktok in the year of our lord 2024 and it's making me want to rewatch it despite every neuron in my brain telling me it's dangerous

[messrsbyler]

anyhow just to add to the chaos. byler having a ‘we did it. we are a good team’ klance moment in s5. ok byeeeee

[raayllum]

like here’s the thing, right. when a work like TDP has a variety of races in it, you’re bound to have some fave characters who are white and some who are not. in my past fandoms my fave characters were a dark skinned black man, a dark skinned black woman, and a disabled, mentally ill asian man. if i didn’t have that background in writing subversive fic centred on their experiences, and seeing how their fandoms treated them with varying degrees of racism, stereotypes, and ableism - yeah, i may question my fave being the one (1) white girl amid a main trio of 2/3 boys of colour.

however

representation wise the odds are stacked that you will have more ‘white faves’ than non white faves. certain archetypes also tend to be based more in race than others

however

if you only ever love white characters, and hate the characters of colour that are canonically important or involved in their lives (harrow with viren; terry and callum with claudia; callum and ezran for rayla, etc) i will and am absolutely side eyeing you so hard & sincerely hope you do some major self reflection

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith doesn’t regret leaving for the Blades. Or at least not that he lets himself admit.

He does, however, miss his family. Quite an awful lot, actually. And he doesn’t get to talk to them often, not with his wacky schedule and the near impossibility of transmitting signal at the Blade base, so usually he just misses them quietly, lying in his bunk or looking out a pod window before a mission and fantasising about the things he’ll say when he gets to talk to them again. How he might get to talk to Hunk and Pidge about their latest projects, mock Shiro for anything he can think of until the man gets his twitching eyebrow of rage, geek out with Allura about cool weaponry and fighting manoeuvres, attempt to follow along to one of Coran’s long winded stories.

And Lance. He thinks about talking to Lance a lot. More than what could technically be considered normal, he supposes, but he’s convinced himself that Lance is thinking about him, too, so they’re even. Lance must, after all. Keith knows he has to plan responses to their arguments in his head if he wants to win. And unfortunately Lance had gotten really good at winning arguments in the months they were leading together, so it’s only logical that he must plan them out.

(Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly lonely, he even allows himself to think about the softer conversations he could have with Lance, away from all the teasing and banter they usually have. He thinks back to the times where they sat quietly at the observation deck together, whispering secrets back and forth, and hopes that they’ll be able to have that again, too. But mostly he thinks about ways to tease Lance until he gets all flustered and scowly, and then about ways to make him smile again. Keith will never admit it under pain of death, but he’s endlessly grateful for the stupid little rivalry Lance cooked up. It’s the most fun Keith’s ever had socialising with another person, including times when he teamed up with Adam to make Shiro lose it as quickly as possible. There’s just something about Lance that makes Keith want to rile him up with every ounce of effort he has in his body.)

He doesn’t spend all his time thinking about his team, though. A lot of it, sure, but he can focus if he really tries. Besides, Blade missions are so batshit crazy that he’s forced to keep his head in the game when he’s in the midst of things. There’s nothing like a goddamn bazooka being aimed at your head to throw your ass into gear, that’s for damn certain. Plus, every mission he completes is one step closer to ending this stupid war so he can go home already.

There’s also the fact that he’s directly helping to liberate thousands of people oppressed by Zarkon’s – Haggar’s? Lotor’s? Well, probably not Lotor because he’s their ally now, but it’s somebody’s – empire, obviously. That’s good for motivation.

But, still – when Kolivan tells him that the Blade he’d originally assigned to team up with Keith for his next mission had to be reassigned somewhere else and there was no one else available to go with him on a mission to some Empire ship placed near a black hole, Keith jumps at the opportunity to call his team and get their help. He spends the two hours it takes to establish a connection with Voltron thinking about how he’s going to ask for Lance’s help without asking, all suave and teasing. He settles on playing it cool, casual, as if he would appreciate Lance’s help, sure, but it’s not really necessary.

Heh. Maybe if he plays his cards right, Lance will be the one asking him. That would land Keith a couple points for sure.

Keith scrambles into a cool, unbothered position as the team blinks into focus on the holoscreen. He has to bite back a smirk.

“Hey, guys.”

“Keith!”

“Good to see you’re not dead, loser.”

“Number Four! It’s wonderful to hear your voice!”

“Hello, Keith. I’m glad to see you well.”

“Hey, kiddo.”

Keith grins at them all, waiting for the inevitable “hey, Mullet,” that he’s sure is coming.

His smile falters when it stays silent. In fact, Lance barely even smiles in greeting, lifting his hand in a small wave from where he stands to the side – almost out of frame.

“It’s good to see you guys, too,” Keith says, shaking his head and trying not to feel too thrown off. It doesn’t matter that Lance didn’t call him Mullet. Keith doesn’t even like the stupid nickname. If anything, this is good.

“I’m assuming this is not a social call,” Lotor drawls after a beat of silence. He stands right next to Allura, maybe a half inch away from basically being on top of her.

Gross. When did that happen?

Trying not to let Lotor’s appearance as a whole sour his mood, Keith shifts a little to look at Lance, although he addresses the whole team.

“The Blade who was supposed to be doing a mission with me got reassigned, and there’s no one else free, so I could use some help.” He tilts his head to face Lance fully, smirk pulling the corner of his mouth.

He practiced. Lance’s lack of greeting may have thrown him off, but Keith is determined, here. He is going to win, and Lance’s mind games are not going to stop him.

“I figured my rival would be a decent enough replacement, since I’m out of options. You up for it, Lance?”

Keith had intended for it to be teasing. To ignite the spark of competition that always lay between them, get Lance rolling his eyes and challenging Keith right back, like they used to do in training. He’d looked forward to the flash of bright determination in Lance’s brown eyes, even, hoped to see his spine straighten and his eyebrows raise.

But to Keith’s horror, none of that happens. In fact instead of rising to the challenge, Lance seems to curl in on himself, hurt scowl twisting his features as his shoulders hunch forward. In contrast, each member of the team possibly howls in laughter, as if what Keith said was the funniest thing in the world, rather than a shameless and playful dig at his and Lance’s rivalry that would usually make them groan in exasperation.

“You sure you can settle for Lance?” Pidge taunts, and Keith is sure she’s only joking but it doesn’t sound like she is. Maybe it’s just been too long since Keith has talked to them, or maybe it’s because it sounds different through a screen, but Keith can’t hear any fondness in her voice. He can’t see it in the team’s laughter, either, in Hunk’s sniggering or Shiro’s chuckles. He doesn’t see it in the hand Allura presses to her face to hide her giggles, and he certainly doesn’t see it in Lotor’s smug grin.

Lance doesn’t see the humour either, shoving his clenched fists in his pockets and taking a small step away from the rest of the team. None of them seem to notice, too busy laughing to themselves.

“Lance – I didn’t mean – I was just –” Keith stammers, but Lance’s face has gone totally blank, emotionless.

“You are not out of options,” he says. “I’m sure Hunk or Shiro would be happy to accompany you.”

Keith feels his heart sink to his knees. Lance only talks so formally when he’s carefully choosing his words, distancing himself from whatever he really wants to say and speaking in carefully controlled monotone.

What the hell is going on?

“No, it’s probably best that you go,” Lotor dismisses, and who the hell died and made him the leader? “We have that training regime planned over the next few days.”

He doesn’t say it, but Keith hears what he means as clear as day – we can afford to be without you.

Lance hears it too, evident in the clench of his jaw and the pause before he speaks. The rest of the team doesn’t seem to notice, all teasing smiles and playful jabs.

“I hope that works for you, Keith.”

Keith is at a loss for words. It takes him a moment to realise that everyone is looking at him expectantly, waiting for his response.

“Yeah, that’s – that’s fine.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and Keith knows it as soon as the words leave his lips – somehow Lance goes even colder, eyes duller, desperate hope that Keith didn’t realise Lance was holding on to fleeing his expression.

“– and it’ll be great to see you, even if it’s only to give you a quick hug before you two take off,” Shiro says brightly, and Keith blinks back into focus.

“Um – yeah, yeah. Sounds good. I’ll be there first thing tomorrow morning, I’ll send you the briefing after we hang up.” He bites his lip, chancing a quick look at Lance, who still stares forward blankly. “Let’s make the most of this, huh, Sharpshooter?”

It’s a transparent attempt at cheering Lance up. Keith can’t remember a single time when the nickname failed to make Lance smile.

It does nothing. The Cuban only nods once, then turns around and walks away.

Keith doesn’t listen to the rest of the team saying goodbye. He watches Lance’s retreating back as he walks through the bridge’s wide doors, and wonders what the hell was gone wrong in the months since he last saw his team.

[njararna]

god i know ive been going on and on about voltron but im just like. so compelled by it genuinely. also the hate s4 got was kinda undeserved bc its a serious upswing from s3 (aside from a rough first ep). i enjoyed the voltron show unironically i love their little power ranger poses it made me laugh

[cannibalismyuri]

M ok but the fact that Bex is trans nb really just drove my disappointment with VLD sky high cause like you could have done something there. You could have shown support for a marginalized group of people that you literally directly work with and where they could have seen themselves on screen and get to PLAY that character but NO you just went and did the boring, obvious, uncreative, unintelligent, uninteresting, unsupportive, unhelpful same old drivel as every other queerbaity crap show has done since the beginning of eternity and frankly I can't forgive them for that. Also the bury your gays, the random new guy we didn't even know for Shiro. Just. ugh everything everything!!!

.

[askmeanjudge]

[weirdlaughs-uwu]

He deserves all the love

I’m sorry Lance, but I’m officially a Matt Stan now. (HE”S JUST MY TYPE AAAA)

(I still love you Lance, and Klance.)