#voltron fantasy au

[scattered-winter]

Keith sprinted down the corridor, heart pounding and pulse racing. He held his sword in one hand and his knife in the other. Both blades were wet with blood, and Keith was certain he had more on his clothes. None of it was his.

The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air, and it was all Keith could do to keep running. His vision kept overlaying with the burning farmhouse, the charred bodies—it took every bit of his focus to stay anchored in the present.

But for all the adrenaline coursing through his veins, there was fear there, too.

He’d encountered and brought down a few enemies already, but there were more; he could hear the screams, the shouts, the sounds of battle echoing through the castle halls.

Lance. He had to find Lance.

Keith rounded a corner and stopped short, blades snapping up as a figure materialized from the shadows. The figure dropped into a defensive stance when he caught sight of Keith, but held it for only a moment before relaxing and lowering his bloodied sword.

“Keith!” Shiro cried, relief clear in his tone. “Are you okay?”

Keith’s defensive posture melted away, but he didn’t sheathe his blades. “I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“Bandits,” Shiro answered, expression grim. “A lot of them. I’ve been trying to establish a perimeter, but there’s too much chaos and not enough knights. We’re spread too thin.”

Keith’s heart plunged into his stomach. They’d just sent most of their forces out to take care of skirmishes on the border; the castle was defended by a skeleton crew at best. Had the bandits planned this?

From the look on Shiro’s face, he’d reached the same conclusion, but it wasn’t like either of them had time to worry about it.

“Where’s Lance and Allura?” Shiro’s tone was clipped, all business. It was only because Keith knew him so well that he could see the underlying fear, the tightness around his eyes. “We need to get them both to safety.”

“I was with Allura when the attack started; I left her with Shay and Romelle, in the armory." Keith exhaled shakily. "I—I don’t know where Lance is. I’m trying to find him.”

Shiro gave a short nod. “Okay. We’ll establish a perimeter around the armory and medical wing; if you come across anyone else, send them there.”

Keith nodded and opened his mouth to ask another question, but movement at the corner of his vision caught his eye.

A group of heavily armed bandits on the other end of the hallway were bounding up the spiraling staircase, one after another. Blood-covered blades flashed red in the moonlight.

Keith’s blood turned to ice. They were heading for Lance’s rooms.

He sprinted after them without a backward glance, fear and adrenaline singing high and wild in his veins. Behind him, he could hear Shiro on his heels.

An explosion rocked the castle, and Keith stumbled, glanced back.

Outside the window, smoke plumed from the medical wing, trailed by bright tongues of flame. The infirmary was burning, and an entire section had collapsed in on itself.

Shiro had stopped in the middle of the corridor, eyes on the smoke and face white.

Matt.

Keith didn’t hesitate. “Shiro, go! I’ll get Lance!”

Shiro didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted in the opposite direction toward the medical wing, and Keith adjusted his grip on his blades and kept running. He reached the stairs and started bounding up them, two at a time.

The smoke only got thicker the higher he got, and Keith could barely breathe from the primal, instinctual terror.

But Lance was up there. And Keith would tear his way through fire and smoke to get to him, no matter how terrified he was.

He skidded to a stop as a bandit appeared around the corner, brandishing his weapons with a battle cry.

Keith ducked beneath the swing, arced his knife forward, felt the blade slice through leather and flesh. The bandit screamed and collapsed, blood spraying Keith’s tunic to join the rest.

Keith kept running. Another bandit leapt at him, swords flashing in the moonlight. Keith danced to evade, his own blades clanging against the bandit’s as they fought.

He sidestepped to avoid a strike, but his exhaustion was getting the better of him. Pain hissed through his side as one of the blades sliced through his tunic, and Keith ground his teeth. He stepped in close, knocking aside the blades, and kicked the bandit in the stomach to send him tumbling down the stairs.

Above, Keith could hear fighting—grunts, shouts, metal on metal. The bandits had reached Lance. Keith had to hurry.

He continued to sprint up the steps, battling bandit after bandit the entire way up. It was taking too long. They were trying to slow him down, stop him from reaching the top.

The fear was a living thing, crackling beneath Keith’s skin like a live wire. The last time he’d been this afraid, his world had been on fire.

Above, the sounds of battle tapered off, leaving nothing but terrible, deafening silence.

Keith bounded up the last few steps and burst through the door at the top, blades in hand, Lance’s name on his lips.

Bandits clustered in the room around a fallen, crumpled blue figure. Keith could see blood on Lance’s tunic.

He brandished his swords, a low growl that didn’t even sound human rising from the back of his throat. “Get away from him.”

One of the bandits just grinned toothily at Keith. “I don’t think so.”

He tossed something underhand toward Keith; it rolled across the ground and came to a stop at Keith’s feet.

A round orb, topped with a lit fuse.

Keith’s eyes widened, and he leapt backward, arms flying up to shield his face.

And the world went white.

Keith’s senses returned one by one. Pain, so acute it throbbed with every beat of his heart, lancing through every limb. He could taste dust and smoke on his tongue, and the coppery tang of blood. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears.

Keith painfully peeled his eyes open.

He was lying on the floor in a crumpled heap. All around him, the tower room was in shambles; flames licked at the curtains, and the far wall was gone, leaving a gaping hole staring out into the night sky.

Bandits were clambering through the hole one by one, shouting to one another; Keith could only hear muffled noise over the ringing in his ears.

A bandit in the last group had Lance’s limp body slung over his shoulder. Lance’s face was streaked with blood and soot, and his tunic was torn and burnt.

Desperately, Keith clawed for his knife, just a few feet away in the midst of smoldering rubble. His fingers curled around the hilt; he was lying halfway across burning embers, so hot it was cold, but he didn’t care. All he could see was Lance, his limp body outlined by the moon as the bandits prepared to leave with him.

Keith flipped the knife in his grip so he held the blade and threw it, end over end.

But he was dazed and wounded and weak, and the knife barely made it three feet before skittering pitifully across the floor.

Black spots danced in Keith’s vision, but he tried to push himself up, tried to stand. Desperation and terror pounded through him like a drumbeat, overwhelming every other sense, every other thought.

The bandit holding Lance saluted over his shoulder at Keith and disappeared.

Keith’s chest heaved with the effort to stand. A high-pitched wail echoed in the small room, raw with pain and fear, and it took Keith a moment to realize it was coming from him.

Something slammed into the small of his back, pushing him down, and Keith screamed, ragged and raw.

Someone rolled him over. Moonlight flashed on a blade.

A bandit stood above him, grinning as she angled her sword down to rest the point against Keith’s sternum. He couldn’t move; he could feel himself losing consciousness.

The bandit’s grin sharpened, and her blade arced downward.

_______________________

Shiro sprinted down the hallway toward the med wing. Terror like he’d never known filled his lungs with ice. He ran past battles, knights, bandits; he didn’t slow down to even process any of it. The only thought in his head was Matt. Matt. Matt. Over and over again, like a mantra, like a prayer.

Smoke plumed in the corridor from the medical wing, thick and black and choking. Shiro didn’t even hesitate before plunging into it headfirst.

It was like another world. Flames licked at the walls, bright and blinding; the smoke hung so heavy in the air that Shiro could barely breathe. An entire section of wall had crumbled, leaving a pile of charred rubble.

“Matt!” The name was torn from his lips, ragged and desperate and barely piercing the blanket of smoke and crackling fire. “MATT!”

Shiro caught a glimpse of something moving in the smoke—someone, moving toward him.

A bandit materialized, blade held aloft. He ran at Shiro with a shout. Shiro was too dazed with overwhelming fear to even raise his sword.

The bandit’s cry turned to a strangled gasp, and he stopped short and crumpled.

Matt stood behind him, breathing hard, long knife clutched in one hand. He had blood on his face and was barely staying upright.

Relief swept through Shiro, heady and overwhelming. Matt was alive.

“Takashi, come on!” Matt grabbed Shiro’s arm and tugged him back the way he’d come.

Shiro shook himself and followed, forcing the overwhelming emotion down and away; now wasn’t the time to lose control. He had to stay focused if they were all going to make it out of this alive.

Outside the medical wing, the other medics and several knights stood in groups, dazed and soot-smeared. There were no bandits in sight, but Shiro could hear the sounds of battles still raging elsewhere in the castle.

“We’re setting up a perimeter around the armory,” Shiro said.

Matt nodded sharply, amber eyes steely. “We’ll head there.”

He waved to get the other medics’ attention, and made a few sharp, hurried hand signals. The other medics nodded and set off toward the armory.

“We’ll set up a field hospital,” Matt said, starting after them. “I have a feeling we’re gonna need one.”

Shiro made to follow him, but another explosion rippled through the castle, making him lose his footing.

When he regained it, he raised his eyes to meet Matt’s horrified expression.

“That came from the east tower,” Matt said quietly.

East tower. Lance’s rooms. Where Keith had just gone.

For the second time that night, ice-cold terror swept through Shiro like a wave. He whirled and sprinted back the way he’d come.

He could vaguely hear Matt following behind, but Shiro outpaced him easily. All his senses were overwhelmed with bone-chilling fear for his little brother.

Shiro reached the spiral staircase in record time and bounded up them, heart pounding in his chest like a drum.

He reached the top and had only a split second to take in the scene that met him.

The tower room, charred and crumbled. Keith on the ground, bloodied and half-dead. A bandit standing above him, sword drawn.

Shiro threw his sword, end over end. It wasn’t designed to be thrown, but his aim was true; the blade sunk to the hilt in the bandit’s back, and she gurgled and collapsed.

Keith was trying to push himself up, a high-pitched whine of pain rising strangled and ragged with every movement, and Shiro burst forward, dropping to his knees and wrapping an arm around Keith’s shoulders to support him.

Keith was shaking, head to toe, and his chest heaved with every breath.

“Woah, hey, slow down, okay? Just—just breathe. You’re okay.” Shiro’s voice cracked, but he swallowed back the wave of emotion. Keith was in bad shape. Really, really bad shape.

But Keith just struggled harder. “Shiro, they—they took him.” His voice was raw with desperation, with pain, with fear.

Dread pooled in Shiro’s stomach, and his mouth ran dry. “What? Took who?”

Keith shuddered in Shiro’s arms, slumping against his chest as his adrenaline was spent at last. “They took Lance. Shiro, they took Lance.”

Hurried footsteps announced Matt’s arrival; he was out of breath and panicked, and his eyes only widened further when he took in Keith’s state.

Keith swallowed thickly. “We have to—we have to go after them,” he said, pushing weakly against Shiro’s chest. “We have to—”

“Hold still,” Shiro ordered, pushing past the fear to grasp desperately for control, for calm. “You’re in no condition to—”

Keith’s eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped against Shiro’s chest, unmoving.

Shit.

Shiro met Matt’s eyes above Keith’s head. “What’s the situation down there?” If Matt noticed the tremble in his voice, he said nothing, for which Shiro was grateful.

“The bandits have pulled out,” Matt said grimly. “The fighting has stopped.”

They’d gotten what they had come for. They’d gotten Lance.

But there was no way they could go after him, not now. There was too much to do, too many people who needed help.

Shiro slipped an arm beneath Keith’s knees and pulled his little brother into his arms, letting Keith’s head loll against his shoulder. “Come on. I hope that field hospital is set up.”

[froopa-coopa]

in the woods somewhere

[ronihilator]

the voices in the wall are telling me to draw a pirate vld au...... im being influenced..... completely out of my control....

[imjustheretoseetheprivateblogs]

Fanfic ideas swim in my head like carp in a koi pond; aesthetically pleasing, but expiring when removed from their native habitat.

[grimreapersnuisance]

Punk Rocker AU Keith

[yolkyweichei]

Voltron AUs are my favorite AUs to exist

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 17

welcome the the seventeenth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. got got got it bad by @kairiolette

"He leans in to hook his arm around Keith’s shoulders in full. It’s right in Keith ear, when he speaks. “I have a crush on someone new, like, every week.”

“No—it's not someone.” Keith brings his head up, and it feels as heavy on his neck as if it were his center of gravity, and he meets Lance’s eyes with his own. Keith doesn’t mean to communicate something through their silence, he just kind of gets caught up in staring at Lance’s face, which tends to happen lately. Sharp features, cheekbones and chin. Impossible eyes and a loud mouth as expressive as his eyebrows. But Lance seems to come to some understanding on his own. He sits back in a rare, rare moment of speechlessness, that mouth of his slightly pursed and twitching in its search for words in what can only be, though Keith doesn’t know much about body language, immense confusion on the brink of realization."

Or: Keith acknowledges his feelings for Lance and promptly goes through the five stages of grief.

what have i said about fics from 2016!!! just the end note and the end made me LAUGH like i couldnt help reading this. they are so stupid and so lame and i love them so much. if u like 5+1 and u like klance being annoying i highly recommend

2. Wicked rather than virtuous by 2dick2down [EXLPICIT]

No one ever told you how hard it was to be sexy during a Washington winter, especially not Fifty Shades of Grey, which Lance often felt like the star of. And, all right, in all fairness, Keith wasn’t Christian Grey levels of wealthy, and he didn’t have any secret sex rooms, and Lance was not with him because he’d signed his ass over to a repressed BDSM god.

Don’t get Lance wrong. Keith was definitely a repressed rich boy. It was just that he was Mr. Grey’s inverse: the type of repressed rich boy you had to beg to spank you and even then there was no telling if he’d have to leave the room afterwards because he felt so torn up with guilt at having to hurt you. Which he didn’t. Or, well, he did, but Lance liked it. Enough to ask for it, anyway.

And was that honestly so crazy?

okay so honestly this is a porn fic. BUT it is a porn fic that also has a plot, and the plot is actually pretty sweet. the crowning jewel of this fic tho is how fucking funny it is. like i was genuinely laughing out loud on several occasions. i will provide for you an example of such:

“Let me cook for you, since you so rudely interrupted my attempts to feed you last night.”

“I don’t know,” Lance said. “If I remember correctly, I was stuffed for most of the night.”

Keith let that sit between them untouched.

“I know you want to laugh.”

it’s so funny. this is one of many moments. read it trust me

3. you build your tower (but call me home) by @parchmints

In the land of Arus, the youngest Nalquodian prince—Prince Leandro—is hidden away in a little castle that overlooks the kingdom; a countermeasure to protect him from the Galran assassins that have sworn to take his life.

And in the tallest tower of the castle, behind a grimy rose window and under a dusty sheet, is an enchanting gargoyle that the prince finds himself compelled to visit every day.

Almost as if by a spell...

idk what it is about me and gargoyle fics. im obsessed. this one in particular blew me away!! the plot was EXCELLENT, magic and fantasy and royalty that doesnt suck. so much fun and SO much intrigue. i read this the first time and literally could not put it down, and then when i finished i scrolled right back up to the top and reread it

4. you’re lucky that’s what i like by zenstrike

Lance rescues a hamster from certain doom.

or, Lance has Keith wrapped around his little finger and doesn’t even realize it.

okay this description is from the first work in the series and it does not do the whole thing justice omg. i am OBSESSED with this series. a month or so ago i was freaking out on here bc it was updated for the first time in forever and i was so pumped!! the way klance is written here is like nothing i’ve ever read before and i cannot get enough. they’re soft and they’re scared and they’re so so young and they don’t know how anything works yet but they know that they want to find out together. and they each come from a place of brokenness and strangeness and they know that beauty can come from that messiness and they embrace it but they are so sure that they will be the ones to stay tangled together despite the odds and they’re RIGHT. literally no words i could use would properly explain this series to you like i am speechless! 

5. layer cake by zenstrike

Keith and Lance, on the couch with a bottle of wine

this fic is from you’re lucky that’s what i like, and it’s singled out particularly because this one did things to me. i read it several times in a row just to fully process it. it’s so aptly named because the layers of devotion...genuinely almost more than i could and can handle. god. 

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!  

[ditzydisaster13]

By the Best of the Lightning Strike

”By the Best of the Lightning Strike” is a Voltron Fantasy Au I’ve been working on. It’s been more mental preparation than anything I’ve written down as of late. But I’m planning plenty of art for it.

The characters are primarily Elven knights and warriors. Galra and Altean are all species of their own. With separate kingdoms and soldiers. Other “aliens”-> which are recognized as more mythological creatures and species themselves, belong as stand alone creatures or those under the rule, either willing or not, of Galra vs Altean-Voltron. Voltron is what they call their knights. Their best fighters are:

Lancelot (Lance) Ladron. His last name might mean thief. But only of hearts and frowns. A flirtatious soldier with glassy ocean eyes and a pure and unadulterated love for the stars and the sea alike. He has great power. Of water and rain, storm and wind. With his sickness comes weariness. He is physically strong. But Mentally does not allow himself the peace and smiles other see in him. He is wounded by the war. The war that leaves him half blind. And the war of the raging and roaring water and hurricanes that crash in his head. He is wonderful with a Sword. A bow and Arrow strikes through the most powerful currents. But his intentions to the world happen to be his strongest weapons. He is wise beyond his jokes. And a Master of craft. His magic is purely dispensable to him. And wonderful to others. He is among the last humans (aside his family, half elven and half human. He is mostly human) in Altea. But he won’t let the Purple trolls of Galran territory graze his pride.

Keith Keiden (name basically means Warrior from the wood of the battlefield.) Is a Grunt. A type of Fae that remain on the shorter side, with tempers that can be difficult to control. They are family people. And do not take being abandoned well. They are brisk and good fighters. Who fight with force and trickery. They are sneaky and prideful in not only their skills but their keen. Keith is also half Galra. Which results in some slight discrimination and anger when he reveals his bloodline. However, as well as a Voltron Soldier and Knight to Altea, his loyalties are split to the Blade of marmora. Garland and half Galran species who in turn want nothing to do with their kingdom or ancestry that fight independently, in small groups, and occasionally on the side of the Alteans. They often prefer Solitude. But Love is in fact their greatest weapons. A master of sword and blade, Keith is also a Dramonk. A name derived from the ancient and rare people of the dragons, meaning fire wielder. Flume of red and pink burst and burn from his hands. Dousing into rolling smoke. His anger gets the best of him. But a certain “thief” knows all too many way to douse the flames.

Dove Holt (Pidge/Katie. -> Holt actually means forest.) Despite Her [She/They pronouns for Pidge] less that forestric life, one home in the woods, a second in the workshop her father uses to study space, they are a lovely person. Dove, typically known as Pidge, is a Grunt. A distant Altean/Elven great grandmother somewhere in her blood. Dove, or Pidge, has the ability to connect with thee earth. He love and excitement for the future of space travel and technology is evident in her slick and mobile style of dressing. Despite her ladylike voice, they are sarcastic and witty. Athletic and feisty. Their connection to nature is in the soil. The vines that grow from her arms and allow her to launch herself great distances.

[oh-quiznakles]

gimme your fave voltron fanfics :D

please

[mothmanavenue]

you were romeo i was a scarlet letter

[shendak-corner]

A lil illustration I did a while ago of them in my lil fantasy, king and knight au ><

[scattered-winter]

more fantasy au klance <3 they are, predictably, not having a great time <3

________________________

Red stumbled on the uneven road, nearly collapsing, and Keith’s hands shot up to steady Lance where he was slumped over the big cat’s neck. Red steadied herself, ears flicking with annoyance, and Keith stood on his toes to check on Lance.

He’d barely reacted to nearly being thrown off; his eyelids fluttered as Keith’s hand pressed against his cheek, and his head turned a fraction, pressing back into the touch, but other than that he was completely still.

Worry curdled in Keith’s stomach. He’d never seen Lance so…lifeless. He barely moved, hardly spoke. When he was conscious, his spells of coherency were growing shorter and less frequent.

Lance’s skin was cold to the touch despite being wrapped in Keith’s cloak and pressed up against Red’s fur. He’d gotten cold the day after the Hound clawed him, and the fever had followed right after. And it had just been a long, slow downhill slide since then.

Keith sighed and tucked the cloak around Lance before giving Red’s shoulder a firm pat to get her moving again.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that prickled over his skin as they kept heading up the difficult, rocky road. The Hound hadn’t shown itself since Lance had gotten hurt, and as glad Keith was that they didn’t have to try and fight it off in their current state, it made him nervous. They were weakened, exhausted, slow. It would be easy for the Hound to kill them now, but it hadn’t even appeared once.

Keith couldn’t help but wonder if it even needed to. Lance was getting worse by the day. He needed help, but Keith didn’t know where they could go to get it other than up.

The supposed life magic at the top of their mountain was their last resort, the only way they could kill the Hound and go home. But now it was Lance’s only chance of living out the week.

Red tripped over a sharp ledge of rock again, nearly throwing Lance from her back. She stabilized with an unhappy growl. Keith forced his tired legs to push himself ahead so he could grab her reins to lead her. He didn’t know who was more exhausted—himself, or the cat.

Just as Keith felt close to collapse, he caught sight of a rooftop through the trees. It was partially caved in, coated in moss and lichen—it was amazing he’d even seen it from the road.

But it was shelter. Keith tugged on Red’s reins to lead her toward it, his other hand dropping to the hilt of his sword. There could be bandits camped out in there, or something worse—not that he’d be able to defend them very well if there were, in his state.

Mercifully, the building—what he thought might be an old barn—was empty save for a few birds that shot them wary glances as the tattered group staggered inside.

Red’s legs were trembling with the effort to hold herself up, and Keith’s heart twisted. She’d given everything she had to get them this far.

Keith slid his arms beneath Lance’s body to lift him off of Red’s back. The second Lance was in his arms, Red dropped to the ground with a whine, flopping onto her side and breathing heavily.

Keith carefully laid Lance on the ground, propping his head up on one of their saddlebags like a pillow. Lance didn’t protest to being manhandled. His breathing hitched as Keith jostled his injury, but that was all.

He was grateful for the warmth as the sun rose higher in the sky. Keith didn’t dare light a fire, not when they couldn’t possibly fend off any attackers that might follow the smoke. Though the bandits who had kidnapped Lance were much less of a threat compared to the Hound, they were still just as capable of killing them all, and Keith couldn’t take any chances.

Keith retrieved one of their waterskins and knelt beside Lance. He carefully squeezed a few drops into Lance’s mouth, and at the touch of cool water Lance’s eyelids fluttered and slowly peeled open.

Relief swept through Keith, and he managed a small grin. “Hey, there. Let’s get you some water, okay?”

He slipped his hand behind Lance’s head to carefully lift him up to the waterskin. Lance downed a few sips before pulling away, and Keith sighed. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it would do for now. He could try and coax Lance into drinking a little later, after they’d settled in.

That was one of the only things Keith could do. Keep him hydrated, keep his bandages clean, keep him warm. Even if they had medicine, Keith had a feeling it wouldn’t do anything. Not against this.

With careful fingers, he peeled the bandages back to get a look at the wound.

Four deep, parallel slashes gouged across Lance’s side. The skin around the wounds was black and raw, and the blackness was only spreading. Last time Keith had checked, it had been reaching toward Lance’s chest with inky black tendrils. Now the infection encased nearly his entire stomach, oozing with black slime and smelling like decay.

Keith didn’t want to think about what might happen when the infection reached his heart. But if they didn’t find the magic soon, he’d find out.

Lance shifted, hummed low in his throat.

Keith startled, letting go of the bandages—he hadn’t realized Lance was conscious.

Hazy brown eyes were fixed on Keith’s face, and Lance’s face softened into a ghost of his usual smile. “You’re cute when you’re worried.”

Keith huffed out a small laugh, reaching to press the back of his hand against Lance’s forehead. He was cold as ice. “Yeah? How’s that?”

“Your eyebrows get all pressed together,” Lance murmured. “It’s cute.”

Keith lowered his hand from Lance’s face to tangle their fingers together by habit. It seemed to help Lance stay awake and talking longer, which in turn helped to keep some of Keith’s fear at bay.

“I’d appreciate it if you would stop making me worry,” he said, giving Lance a half-hearted glare.

“No can do. Besides, you do such a good job of keeping me safe anyway.” Lance gestured toward his middle. “Usually.”

Keith’s glare deepened. “That’s not funny.”

“I thought it was. And since I’m the one dying, not you, I think that makes my vote count more.”

“You’re not dying.” Keith surprised himself with how fiercely he said it. “And your vote counts the same amount as mine does. So we’re tied.”

Lance huffed unhappily, tilting his head back to look at Red. “I bet she thought it was funny,” he said. “Did you, girl?”

Red lifted her head to purr at Lance, clearly happy to see him talking.

Lance grinned triumphantly at Keith. “See?”

“She doesn’t count. She’s a cat.”

“She’s a smart cat. She’s the second-most beautiful cat to ever live. And she says I’m funny, so there.”

Keith rolled his eyes heavenward. “I can’t believe you.”

“Hey, I have my priorities straight. I—” Lance abruptly cut off with a coughing fit that had his body jerking and convulsing where he lay.

Keith sprang forward, pulling Lance up to a sitting position and wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him steady.

Lance shuddered in his arms and doubled over, retching. Black sludge splattered the ground.

Keith rubbed Lance’s back, focusing on keeping Lance upright. This wasn’t the first time he’d vomited, and it was only growing more frequent.

Finally Lance laid back in Keith’s arms, body going still save for the shivers that ran through him like shockwaves. His head dropped to Keith’s shoulder, energy spent.

Keith’s arms tightened around him, pressing his temple against Lance’s.

“This…sucks,” Lance rasped between breaths of air, all traces of humor gone.

Keith raised a hand to sweep strands of sweaty hair out of Lance’s eyes. His fingers lingered for a moment before carding through Lance’s hair, and Lance’s eyes fluttered closed.

“We’re almost there,” Keith said lowly, feeling Lance’s shallow, uneven breaths against his body. “We’ll rest for today, then head up the rest of the way tomorrow.”

Lance opened his eyes to look at him. “I can’t make the climb, Keith.”

Keith’s hand stilled in Lance’s hair. “Yes, you can. We’ll make it. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

Lance sighed, breath gusting over Keith’s cheek. “You’re exhausted. Red’s exhausted. I’m just slowing you down.”

Keith stiffened. “Lance—”

“You need to keep going without me,” Lance said, staring back unflinchingly. His brown eyes were hazy with pain and exhaustion, but alert—this wasn’t the fever talking. He was completely coherent.

“I’m not leaving you.” Keith’s voice was hard, but his hands were gentle as he started to run his fingers through Lance’s hair again. “We’re getting through this together, remember?”

Lance shivered in Keith’s arms. “And we will. We will. But I can’t—I have to stay here while you go to the top.”

“No. There has to be another way.” Keith’s mind raced, desperately clawing for a solution, a way around the problem. “We can go around the base of the mountain—it might be an easier climb from the other side.”

“Keith, we don’t have time for that.” Lance’s voice cracked, pain and exhaustion and frustration wearing him thin. “We only have, what, a week? At our pace, traveling around the base will take us at least three. And—” He swallowed thickly, throat bobbing with the movement. “I’m not going to make it that long, either.”

Fear crackled through Keith’s body like lightning. “Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine.”

“We both know that I’m not,” Lance rasped.

Keith could feel his pulse where he was pressed up against Keith’s body—rapid and fluttering, like butterfly wings. But he said nothing. He bent his head over Lance, drawing in a ragged breath and tightening his arms around him.

“This is our only option,” Lance murmured, breath stirring Keith’s hair. “Leave me here, and Red, too, if it’ll make you feel better.”

That would make him feel better. Keith pulled back to look at Lance, but did not loosen his hold. “What if—I don’t make it back in time?”

“You will.” Lance smiled at him, small and strained, but certain, like he was stating a fact.

Keith’s brows creased together, and he lowered his head to press his lips into Lance’s hair. Not quite a kiss, barely more than a peck. “Okay.”

Lance relaxed in his arms, eyes sliding closed. “Okay,” he echoed, turning his face into Keith’s shoulder.

He fell asleep in moments, and Keith wasn’t too far behind. He only allowed himself a few hours’ rest before he woke with the late morning sun slanting into his eyes.

Lance was still curled in his arms, brows creased and breathing shallow. Keith carefully detangled himself, propping Lance’s head up on the same bag from before and tucking his cloak around him like a blanket.

Red raised her head, blinking sleepily at him. The sun made her red fur look like fire.

Keith ran a hand over her nose. “Keep an eye on him for me, yeah?”

She chuffed, pushing her large head against his thigh and nearly knocking him over. Keith chuckled and stepped away, casting one last glance at Lance asleep on the floor.

Walking away was the hardest thing he’d ever done. But, as Keith started the long climb up the mountain, he knew Lance was right. It was their only chance.

[krisdoesblog]

“The crystal is THIS way!”

“…yay…”

——————————————

Happy Valentine’s Day @numbah34 ! You wanted a fantasy/adventure setting for these dorks right? This for the Conservatory’s Valentine’s Day exchange.

[chibi-pix]

So, a while back, I had the thought of Katie as a young professor and doodled her up for such AU. And, I wanted to revisit that. But change her outfit. So, I did, and I got the screenshots I wanted drawn up back then but couldn't figure out! Including Larmina, Vince, and Daniel, fresh to the magic world due to circumstances, shocked that this kid they met not long ago was actually a teacher. Also, Shorty, Katie's twin, as one of her students and confused by the outburst. He's not unimpressed with Katie being a teacher, he just doesn't get the shock a few of his classmates have.

Anyway! I hope y'all enjoy this one! I had fun and am glad I could finally draw it! Commissions for screenshots and more are open and available on my Ko-fi. Until next time!

[icypantherwrites]

Fic Update: Bottled Ocean, Chapter 50

(Bottled Ocean is a Patreon exclusive fanfiction)

Chapter snippet:

Lance didn’t even have a chance to gasp before Shiro was lunging forward with a sharp splash and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt to hold him up and then Keith was there and encircling him from behind, his own board abandoned.

Lance hung there, chest racing with a too familiar thrum of fear and Alaraan, he’d…

He’d almost just…

Wh-why?

He didn’t have a chance to ask as Keith practically dragged him backwards against the shadow of the ship and clapped a hand over his mouth with a breathless, “sorry,” and then…

Then they were going under the water.

Lance screamed out bubbles behind Keith’s hand as the water closed over his head and what, what was this, why were they going under the water?

He was going to drown. 

Shiro was down there with them, his arm latching tight about one of Lance’s flailing ones and pinning it to his side and Keith’s grip was tightening to keep Lance’s other arm immobile and what was this what were they doing why were they—?

And a bright beam of purple light passed over their heads.

Lance immediately froze in his frantic attempts to somehow reach the surface because someone…

Someone was up there.

The beam passed over them again.

Someone had heard them.

They were going to be caught. 

And, and then…

Read it here

[grimreapersnuisance]

Voltron AU where Keith is a KPop star… 👀

Lyrics are to Butter by BTS