#vld s4

[k3ithsk0gane]

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

[ace-does-stuff]

i have just been informed that, in my partners words, "Lance do kinda become a stripper" and to be frank thats beautiful, bisexual-coded protags always gotta get a bit slutty on main, good for him, get it girl, slay queen

[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

[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

[localfanbaselurker]

okay I know I was clowning on it at first but so far season eight isn’t all that bad. I think it’s just the continuity errors that get me.

[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]