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Shance - Blog Posts
Feeling guilty
I don't know but I feel bad for shipping Shance when Shiro literally had (has?) a fiancé on earth... I'm like, "he's probably still in love with Adam... He's definitely still in love with Adam." But then it changes to, "I still ship Shance! Adam's probably in the past." Like, nothing can get in the way of Shance! Shance all the way!
I mean, I don't know if I should just ship what I like to ship or just slowly back away... To be honest, I might join some of the others and just ship Lance with Shiro and Adam.
The Slave
Chapter 2: Arrival It took a few hours before they finally reached Shiro’s home. Lance had seen some fancy houses in his lifetime but this place definitely took the cake. Surrounded by beautifully colored, exotic plants and built atop a cliff that bordered the ocean, Shiro’s home stood out from the dense foliage due to its magnificent white marbled outer walls. At three stories tall, the house was both aesthetically pleasing and architecturally impressive; large open archways surrounding the front porch and wide rounded windows, flanking a set of hand carved double doors, revealed a lavishly decorated sitting room, and for a moment, Lance was at a loss for words. He hadn’t seen the ocean since before his captivity. and he was excited to see a small pathway winding down the cliff that he assumed led to a private beach. Shiro didn’t give him too much time to explore, however, and he pushed Lance forward, leading him into the house. Instantly the two were flanked by two maids, who took Shiro’s jacket and welcomed him home. One of them smiled curiously at Lance, but he could only grimace in return. Shiro shooed them both away, and began leading Lance towards a grand double staircase.
As they climbed, Shiro asked the question that had been on his mind for a while, “How many master’s have you had in the past?” It didn’t really matter to him in the grand scheme of things, but he was curious as to how Lance had kept his sanity while being used by several alphas from what he presumed was a young age.
Lance pursed his lips and didn’t answer. He wasn’t naive and he knew why his new master was asking. Alphas were always obsessed with the idea of being the first to tame an omega, and he was sure that Shiro was no different. He probably just wanted to know how many times Lance had been used by other alphas but he wasn’t about the reveal his past to a total stranger. When Lance didn’t respond, the moment they reached the top of the stairs, Shiro whirled around and gripped Lance’s chin, tilting it upwards, “I asked you a question,” he said firmly. “How many masters have you had before me?” When Lance still refused to answer, Shiro’s anger spiked and he slapped the boy across the face before pulling him back up by the hair. Lance surprisingly didn’t yelp, instead. he glowered up at Shiro defiantly.
“My plan was to allow you a few days to become acquainted to your new home but if you insist upon misbehaving, I will take you right now and believe me I will not be gentle.” The alpha growled menacingly. “I will ask you one more time, Lance, how many masters have you had before me?”
The threat seemed to resonate with Lance, who finally answered, “Four, but though they did touch me, none of them got as far as to penetrate me. I was still underage so apparently they wanted to wait until I was at least eighteen,” he admitted begrudgingly through clenched teeth. Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Shiro released the boy and gestured for him to follow. “You’re absolutely filthy and you reek of musk; I’m leaving you to take a bath and some clothes will be provided for you when you finish.” Lance grimaced and rubbed his jaw angrily, his scalp stinging even after he was released. Though he wasn’t too pleased at his situation, he had always prefered to be well groomed. At the shop, he was often just rinsed off with a high pressured hose and scrubbed roughly with a sponge. As for his masters, they often didn’t allow him to bathe until his stench became unbearable. He didn’t know enough about Shiro, but he wasn’t sure when he would be allowed to bath again and he planned to take full advantage of his master’s generosity while he could. Shiro led him down a long hallway filled with expensive art. The wall paneling was colored a deep purple with a gorgeous hand carved dark trim at the base. Statuettes flanked each door and the floor was made of a sturdy mahogany. About halfway down the hall, Shiro stopped and steered Lance towards one of the solid oak doors. “Inside,” he ordered, placing his hand on the small of the omega’s back.
Reaching out, Lance opened the door and stepped slowly into the lavish bathroom. He remembered staying in a five star hotel once with his last master and even that bathroom left much to be desired by comparison. An enormous whirlpool tub sat invitingly in the left corner underneath a six foot long window overlooking the ocean. Across from that was see through shower, large enough for five or six full grown alphas to stand comfortably side by side. Next to the toilet in the right corner was a lengthy countertop and overlooking that was an equal length golden mirror. Feeling dazzled, Lance let out a soft whine causing Shiro to quirk an eyebrow and Lance to slap a hand over his mouth. It was the first omega like thing, Lance had done in his presence and it was too late to take it back now. “So you can make noises,” Shiro teased, turning away from the omega to start filling the tub. “Shut up!” Lance mumbled, his face turning red. Shiro turned off the water and stood up to face him waving his hand dismissively in response to the omega’s embarrassment.
“Strip,” he ordered, gesturing to Lance’s tattered shorts. When the the slave remained still, Shiro sighed, “Remember, Lance, my threat still stands.”Gritting his teeth for a moment, Lance suddenly sighed in defeat. Despite his attitude, he was nowhere near as brave as he was letting off. Sure, he was used to punishment and could hold back the tears after being slapped, but the idea of being violently raped by an alpha scared him. He’d seen far too many omegas who had suffered that fate and it was extremely rare that they came back from that, sanity intact. Plus, as an omega, it would be extremely likely that he would get pregnant and have his child taken away. For an omega, that was a fate worse than death. His face flushing with embarrassment, Lance hooked his fingers into the waistband of his shorts and slowly slid them down his waist, dropping them to the floor and kicking them to the side before covering his lower half with his hands. Shiro tutted, “Remove your hands,” he ordered firmly. Lance snapped his head up, glowering at the alpha but did as he was told. Shiro drank in the sight - Lance was gorgeous. He was tall and slightly muscular with broad shoulders, and a thin waist; rare for an omega. His cock was average lengthed and nestled in a bed of soft curly dark hair between this thick sun kissed thighs. Lance shivered under the alpha’s unwavering stare and shuffled nervously in place. “Can I get into the tub now?” he asked self consciously, face flushed with humiliation. Shiro let out a hum of approval and finally looked away, much to Lance’s relief. “Very well. Take your time to clean up and I will return with some clothes. I think you’re a size medium, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find something.” Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a small silver bell which jingled slightly at the movement, “If you are finished before I return, ring this bell and the maids will lead you into your new room. As I stated before, if you behave, i will give you a few days to settle in but after that…” his hand reached up to brush Lance’s hair out of his face, “you are mine.” Before Lance could snap back, Shiro exited the room, leaving Lance alone and angry. Exhaling, the omega shook his head in frustration before sliding into the tub, his body relaxing in the warm water. He hated this, he hated having to obey the orders of yet another perverted older man, he hated feeling so weak and vulnerable, but most of all, he hated having to pretend to be brave. Standing naked and exposed in front of an alpha, it was all he could do to stop himself from trembling and collapsing at his master’s feet in a drool heap. His master’s scent alone was enough to prove how in control he was and most omegas would probably fall to their knees, slick dripping down their thighs, in the presence of such a man. Shaking that thought from his head he sunk further into the water, enjoying the feel of warmth his skin. About a half hour later, Lance stood naked in the bathroom, dripping water over the soft bathroom mats. Shiro hadn’t yet returned and Lance had taken full advantage of all the products at his disposal. His hair was now fluffy and soft and his skin felt silky smooth. Feeling slightly more relaxed, he smiled and rung the small bell that had been left for him. Within moments, one of the maids from earlier strolled in, carrying a soft fluffy towel. Lance took it gratefully and mumbled out a quick thanks, wrapping the towel around his waist. The maid nodded in response and led Lance from the bathroom further down the hallway. “This will be your room. The master will be back soon to bring you some clothes, in the meantime, make yourself comfortable and I will bring you some lunch.” He nodded and she opened the door and left him to get settled. Lance glanced around the room. It was small but comfortable, with a large four poster bed, a small desk shoved in the corner and a completely stocked bookshelf along the back wall. With a content sigh, he dried himself off and climbed onto the bed burying himself under the thick, warm blankets. He didn’t know when exactly he fell asleep but in what felt like no time at all, he was shaken awake by Shiro. Resisting the urge to lash out, Lance sat up rubbing his eyes blearily. The older man placed a small pile of clothes on the edge of the bed and sat down next to him. “Get dressed, the maid is almost done preparing lunch,” he said, leaning forward to brush Lance’s hair behind his ear. The omega stiffened at the alpha’s touch, but before he could protest, Shiro stood up, leaving him to get dressed in privacy. This was all so confusing. None of his other masters had waited this long to touch him; and though he knew the alpha said he would give him a couple days, he couldn’t help but feel irritated. He bought me for a reason right, why doesn’t he hurry up and…fuck there I go again. Why am I like this? I know I’m an omega but i’m not just a fucking hole! He thought angrily. He felt frustrated with himself. Ever since he was fourteen, he found himself struggling constantly with his own nature, and now that he was of age, the urge to be bred was always nagging at the back of his mind. He was already used to be being touched, and he hated the fact that his body often craved the physical intimacy. Growling in frustration, Lance shook his head and began to dress himself. No. I refuse to give in. The other masters couldn’t break me and this one will be no different, he thought with a huff. I will leave this place eventually; I’ll find a way to escape…somehow. And with that comforting thought. Lance sat complacently at the desk, awaiting his lunch. Previous Ao3 Link
Hidden Desire
Chapter 2 ——- Later that afternoon ——-
The door hissed open and Shiro walked in, taking in the sight. Training bots littered the floor around Lance, who was trapped between the wall and his own cracked shield. The last three bots ran forwards, each firing their guns towards the blue paladin. As the shield splintered, there was a loud clatter as Lance hit the ground, bayard spinning away from him across the sleek, metallic floor. “End training sequence,” he wheezed, clutching his abdomen and rolling to lay on his back, panting heavily.
Impressed, Shiro walked over and crouched down next to Lance. “You’ve really improved,” he commented with a smile.
Lance didn’t immediately reply, instead opting to turn his head away from the older paladin. When he did speak, it was only after he managed to slide a fake smile over his face. “I guess,” he panted, sitting up. “But I’m still not as good as you or Keith.”
Frowning, Shiro stood up and offered his hand to Lance, “Hey…can we talk?” he asked apprehensively, brow furrowing.
Lance accepted his hand and hoisted himself up. “Sure, what’s on your mind?” Lance replied, wandering over to the bench. Sitting down, he picked up his towel, draping it over his neck, and snatched up his water bottle, taking a gulp before turning his attention back to Shiro.
Tentatively sitting next to him, Shiro turned to face Lance, looking troubled. “Did I - did I do something wrong?” he asked.
Lance lowered his water bottle in surprise, “What?…why would you think that?” he replied, feeling annoyed with himself. He had tried so hard to act normal, but it seemed like the others were starting to catch on.
“Well, there’s several things,” Shiro began slowly. “Ever since I’ve returned to Voltron, you’ve been avoiding everyone.” Lance opened his mouth to interrupt, but the older man held up a finger to silence him. “You’re always excusing yourself to get away from us, and when you can’t find a reason to leave, you put on that stupid fake smile thinking no one will notice. Keith already told me that you weren’t like this before I returned. In fact, he said that you guys were closer than ever. I mean, I know that since Keith and I got together, we really haven’t had time to spend with you, so is that it, or is it just me?”
Tensing up, Lance attempted to explain away his recent behavior, but it was all to much. Even as a child, bottling up his emotions usually led to him breaking down. Tears began to sting the corners of his eyes and he sat up, desperately looking for an exit. “I’m fine,” he choked wiping his eyes.
Shiro hadn’t know what to expect from this talk; he had, of course, hoped that Lance would open up to him, but he thought that Lance might try to change the subject, or even lie. However tears were not on that list and he immediately tensed up. “Hey, wait Lance I didn’t mean to-” he trailed off lamely. Shaking his head, Lance walked towards the door, “I need to shower,” he choked out, leaving a very confused Shiro to contemplate what just happened.
—— That night ——
Night had once again fallen over the castle ship. In his room, Lance lay motionless on his back, left arm draped over his face. He had been crying off and on for the last few hours, and as a result, his eyes were red and puffy. With a sigh, Lance sat up, running his fingers through his hair. He supposed he should have expected this. As much as he wanted to be able to hold everything in like Keith, he just wasn’t that type of guy. Perhaps that was why Keith liked Shiro so much. Their black paladin really was amazing; he was strong, and stoic and it was hard not to feel safe around him. In fact, when they first met, Lance had fallen pretty hard.
Lance buried his face into his pillow and sighed. It’s not as though that crush ever really went away, but from the very beginning, Lance was hyper aware that he was nowhere near good enough for Shiro. Come to think of it, he really wasn’t good enough for Keith either. Keith was loyal and cool and Shiro was calm and intelligent and they just seemed to be the perfect match. Then there was Lance, a skinny little nobody who wasn’t even really good enough to be in Voltron in the first place
Just as Lance let out another sigh, there was a soft knock on the door. Nearly jumping out of his skin, Lance looked at the earth clock on table next to his bed; 1:00am. Who the fuck is knocking at this time at night? Lance thought incredulously. When he didn’t immediately get up to answer, Lance heard Keith’s muffled voice through the metalic doors, “Lance, I know you’re awake, I can hear you sighing from down the hall.”
Lance’s heart leapt into his throat and he scrambled out of bed, opening the door and there was Keith. Clad in black plaid pajamas,the red paladin stood in front of him, lips pursed and arms crossed. “Keith,” Lance breathed, face heating up, “What are you-?”
Keith held up a hand to interrupt, “What the hell is your deal, Mclain?” Keith asked irately.
“I don’t know what you-?” before Lance could finish, Keith stepped inside the room, pushing Lance hard onto his bed, looking angry.
“I don’t know if you hate me and Shiro, and at this point, I just don’t care, but your mood is affecting everyone and you need to-” Keith began hotly, his hands clenched into to fists. Tears welled up in Lance’s eyes and he finally blurted out what he had been hiding all this time, “I love you,” he whispered.
Keith froze, shock written all over his face, “You lo-.”
Lance continued, “I love you, Keith, and not just you. I love you and Shiro so much that it hurts. Things were fine at first, I had given up on Shiro and I was hiding my feelings for you and it wasn’t supposed to go any farther than that. But then Shiro left and you changed! I tried to be there for you, tried to make you happy, tried not to let my feelings get in the way, but you were so angry!” His voice shook and tears began to fall freely. Now that he had started, he just couldn’t stop and the flood gates opened. “You snapped at me every time I opened my mouth and you lashed out at everyone and it hurt so much. I really didn’t realize how much I loved you until that moment and everything went to fucking shit!” he sobbed, sitting up on his knees to face Keith, who’s mouth fell open in shock. “And then Shiro came back and we were all overjoyed - me included - and that hasn’t changed, Keith. I’m so relieved that he’s back and that he’s safe and I’m so glad that you two are happy together because I love you both so much and that’s all I want for you both!” Keith opened his mouth again but Lance shook his head, voice growing louder, “Does it hurt that you guys never talk to me anymore? Yes! Does it hurt everytime I see you kiss? Yes! But you guys are happy and that’s what matters to me so I’m fine, Keith. I’m completely fine so get the hell out of my room!” Lance yelled getting up and shoving the red paladin back through the doors.
Keith stumbled backwards and just gaped at him, completely at a loss for words, but before he could so much as blink, Lance choked back a sob, “Just…go back with Shiro, Keith.” And with that he shut the door, leaving the red paladin in complete and utter shock. Previous Ao3 Link
The Slave
Chapter 1: The Shop
Takashi Shirogane was a man who enjoyed the finer things in life. As an alpha from a moderately wealthy family, he had always known that he was destined for greatness. He had achieved just that early on when his parents had passed away, leaving him in charge of the family business. At the age of seventeen, he took Shirogane Industries from a small family owned business to a multi-million dollar company with ties to several other countries and a hold on the stock market . His net worth was estimated to be anywhere between 20 to 30.3 billion dollars, and at eighteen, he was hailed as a natural businessman.
There was one area in which he was regrettably lacking, however, and that was relationships. His father had often told him that whatever omega he were to chose would have to be worthy of being his mate. Now in his early twenties, he was still single, and if he was being honest, he was starting to lose hope that he would ever be able to find one. That’s what had brought him here, to the sleazy little slave shop downtown.
He pursed his lips as he entered the building, taking in the musky smell of sex and distressed omega pheromones. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he slowly glanced through the cages, examining each slave carefully. Most of them were beaten and beyond help. Having suffered through years of abuse, these second hand slaves no longer were capable of independence and would require around the clock care to even survive. A few mumbled dully to themselves and others just stared blankly off into space, none of these held his interest. The alpha had always been competitive and he enjoyed a challenge, so having a slave that still had some fight in them was ideal, that being said as he neared the back of the shop, disappointment welled inside of him. He had been wanting to come here for quite awhile, but from the looks of things, this place was a waste of his time.
Just as he was about to leave, his eyes fell upon a much younger slave. He was beautiful, with brown hair, sun kissed skin and long slender features. Maybe eighteen or nineteen at the most, he lay motionless on the floor of his cage, wearing nothing but a tattered pair of shorts. His eyes were closed and for a moment, he wondered if the slave was dead and he tapped experimentally on the bars to see if he would respond.
At the sound of tapping, the boy’s startling ocean blue eyes snapped open and he glared up at Shiro, baring his teeth defensively. Obviously still full of life, the young slave backed up against the bars and growled, keeping his eyes locked on Shiro.
Before the situation could progress any further, a large muscular man stepped out from the back, wiping his hands on a black apron that hung around his waist. Noticing Shiro, he strode over to him, “To what do I owe the pleasure of having Takashi Shirogane in my humble shop?” He asked in a deep voce, eyes flickering between him and the boy.
Shiro took a step back and narrowed his eyes, irritated that he had been recognized. “How much is this one here?” he asked, motioning to the still growling omega, “if possible I’d like to purchase him today, discreetly,” he said, adding emphasis to the last word.
The man laughed, turning his attention to the boy who hissed, pressing himself further in the corner. “I know the idea of a unbroken slave is ideal, but he’s been returned to me four times already. You might want to sleep on that decision. However, if you insist on buying him, he is quite expensive, you’ll want to keep him nice and stuffed, his energy level is quite high, and he is very aggressive for an omega. I will allow you to take him home today - for fifteen thousand dollars, that is.”
Shiro eyed the slave once more and nodded, “A trouble maker huh?” He laughed dismissively. “I’d like to purchase him right now. I’ll even throw in an extra five thousand, consider it a tip for your service…and your silence.” There was a hint of a threat in his tone and the shopkeeper picked up on it almost immediately and he nodded apprehensively.
“Of course sir,” he replied tentatively, “I’ll go grab his paperwork and a collar.”
Shiro nodded, watching the man leave the room. When he was sure that he was gone, he knelt down to address the boy. “Do you have a name?” he asked, eyes taking in the slave’s slender frame. Without warning, the boy lashed against the cage, growling ferociously, and reached between the bars in an attempt to wound his new master, who backed up just in time. Returning in time to catch the omega in action, the shopkeeper stomped over, drawing a blunt wooden instrument out of his belt. “Don’t you ever do that again!” he roared spraying the omega with spittle and thrusting the wood between the bars of the cage. The boy jumped and retreated further into the back, breathing heavily and glowering at both of them.
Offering Shiro a hand, the shopkeeper helped him up and returned the instrument to his belt. “Sorry about that. What set him off?”
Shiro looked back at the omega and rubbed his wrist, “I asked him if he had a name,” he replied, “I heard that most slaves are stripped of their names and kept so drugged up that they don’t remember them, and I wanted to see if he remembered his.”
The shopkeeper pursed his lips and shook his head, “His name is Lance, but he won’t answer to it. You can rename him yourself but I doubt it will do you any good. Not even a proper beating will get him to speak and at this point, I often wonder if he’s a mute.” He shook his head and faced Shiro, changing the subject, “now, as for the price, write me a check and I’ll hand him over.” The boy cautiously approached the bars of the cage, aware that he was in the process of being purchased again.
“Lance,” Shiro mused, pulling out his checkbook and hastily scribbling out the allotted price. He could tell by the way the omega was staring at him, that he could understood what they were were saying and though the omega had never spoken to the shopkeeper, something in his gut told him that Lance was just holding out on them.
Pocketing the check, the shopkeeper approached the cage again, fitting the key into the lock. “Alright, he’s all yours.” Grabbing Lance’s arms, the man hooked a leather collar around his neck and pulled him out. The cage was rather small and it had been quite some time since he had been able to stand properly, so while leaving his prison was an exciting thought, Lance’s legs instantly screamed in protest and gave out underneath him. Before the shop keeper could make another move, Shiro strode forward and held the slave up under his arms, allowing him to get used to his newfound freedom.
“I’ll take it from here thanks.” Shiro said as Lance stretched out his legs in order to stand. The shopkeeper nodded and walked back towards the counter as Shiro led Lance out of the shop and away from his old life.
Standing in the blinking sunlight for the first time in ages, Lance wasn’t exactly sure what to do. He could try to run, but his legs were still rather stiff and he knew he wouldn’t make it very far. Lance was startled out of his thoughts when Shiro finally stopped in front of an expensive looking car.
Rearranging his grip around Lance, the alpha dug through his pockets and pulled out a set of keys which he used to unlock the car. He carefully placed Lance in the back seat, and closed the door, before walking around to the otherside of the car and settling himself into the front seat.
There was a few moments of silence before Shiro finally spoke, addressing the omega through the rearview mirror, “So, according to the man in the shop, your name is Lance.” When the omega remained silent, Shiro paused, abruptly starting up the car and pulling out of the shadowed driveway. “My name is Takashi Shirogane, I know this all must be a huge blur to you, and I understand that it will take some time for you to get used to me.” Shiro said, casually glancing back through the mirror. “But do try to behave, will you? It would be a shame to start off our new relationship with hostility.” When the slave didn’t answer, Shiro felt a wave of frustration wash over him. Though he started off almost every morning repeating the mantra, “patience yields focus,” to himself in the mirror, he wasn’t an extremely patient man, and one of his many flaws was that he was quick to anger.
“Will you not speak?” he asked gripping the steering wheel tightly, resisting the urge to yell.
There was another moment of silence before Lance finally opened his mouth, “I’ll speak when I feel like it, not because you order me to,” he said, voice cracking from lack of use.
Shiro was silent, he had to admit that he was surprised enough that the slave had even answered, so much so that he wasn’t immediately angry. “I see,” he responded after a few moments. “Well, I guess we’ll have to change that.”
Mulling over his new master’s words, the slave once again fell silent. He had no idea what was in store for him, but there was something that set this man apart from his previous owners. He was confident and well groomed and something in Lance’s gut told him that if he wasn’t careful, he might just end up like the rest of those nameless slaves back at the shop. The rest of the car ride was spent in silence as Lance tried to picture what fate had in store for him this time.
—–
This is a late birthday gift for the lovely and talented @jaspurrlock!
Ao3 Link Here
New shiro body + Old Shiro soul
Keith and Shiro were fighting on the shiro farm, which means there were plenty of other shiros. Like I know Keith had sentimental attachment to the shiro he was fight but like, he could have killed/forced clone shiro off the farm building thingy and just gotten a new shiro clone to put actual shiros soul back into.
Honestly this works for every ship that isn’t Allurance
VLD season 8 in a nutshell, everyone
Lance doesn't lower the rifle.
Maybe it's because he joined the army late that he tries to think it a yet – doesn't lower it yet.
The soldier is crouched by the sandbag mount, on their side of the mount, the exposed side. Lance was alarmed at first sight; thought a scatter of things at once: theft attempt, attack? Desperation, dying? Lance has become micro-attuned to helmet colours. He saw the alarm of bronze. The soldier removes his face clothing. Breathes through the mouth. His arm slips from his knee to the ground. His other arm is missing.
''I don't feel so good,'' the soldier says. He sounds somewhat apologetic. Is this war conduct, Lance thinks. The soldier seems impossible, like stygian blue. The red around his missing arm seems self-luminous.
Lance has his hands adjusting his grip. It's so quiet around them. Snowflakes drift lightly onto the barrel of his rifle. The sky is white and slow and soft. It's so quiet.
''I don't know,'' the soldier says. He's blinking rapidly at the ground. Shifts his weight like he wants to sit down. Lance likes how his German sounds.
''Aren't you—'' scared, Lance despairs. Of me? Of war? ''Scared,'' he finishes.
''Yeah,'' the soldier says. Like it's an allowed simplicity, to say it like that. ''I don't feel so hot.''
''Is this wordplay,'' Lance asks, horrified, ''do you think you're funny? You look like shit. Soldier.''
''Yeah,'' he says, to something. ''Shiro.''
It takes Lance time to realise this is a name. But now he can't unname the soldier. Now all the circumstantial parts are named; hair clumped to his forehead under the helmet frozen white: Shiro; the knot of the tied sleeve where an arm is missing, hitting Lance's stomach wrongly: Shiro.
The air inside Lance is whirling. The air in his tiny air sacs has been whirling lately, and it is now, but differently, Lance knows. More breezily. It has been somewhat abstract, but now he is winded. Now it is personal. Lately, he has been dreaming he hates himself, and he has been waking up, thinking: but I don't.
Sometimes his chest blooms, or turns into something with a low boiling point, or turns into octopus ink; and he thinks he is grieving himself.
Which must be self-absorbed. He is on the side of alive, and has both arms. Maybe it's because he joined the army late, but he doesn't know how he could offset the death of something with a name.
''Don't just give me your name,'' he says. The soldier moves his legs from under himself, instead folding into something seated, leaning back on the sandbags. He has seated his momentum. He moves his jaw. Like something relaxing, or something in pain, or something defunct.
''I don’t think it matters now,'' the soldier says.
''It matters,'' Lance says. Says immediately; he feels very immediately.
''Want to see my picture, too?'' The soldier fumbles through his jacket. All right, Lance realises, then re-realises: wait. This might be too much to know. Lance shakes his head. Lance shakes his head but goes despite himself, thinking, you don't feel like a target? You feel like a human shield.
The soldier pulls a photo from an inside pocket. On the photo, the soldier isn't dressed like a soldier, and looks very clean, standing by someone shorter, wilder, messier, their arms thrown over each other's shoulders. The image is blurry, but the soldier's eyes seem strangely defined. They seem strangely defined now, too.
''Love the blur of you,'' Lance says.
''Thanks.''
Lance feels himself nodding at the picture, like a body on a spring. Maybe he is nodding to stall, to drag out his indecision. He needs to think. If Lance doesn't shoot, that's Shiro winning rightfully, isn't it? It's survival by selection, successful.
''Did you treat it?'' he asks, and the soldier looks confused, so Lance nods in the direction of his arm. He realises his rifle is waist-high and lowers it to treat the dissonance.
The soldier falls into a coughing fit, which turns into a thing with no sound, just spasming. Snowflakes are drifting. It's so quiet. The soldier lifts his hand towards the missing arm, then halts the motion with the back of his hand to his mouth. Lance imagines they swallow simultaneously.
''Like this. But I think it would extend my shelf life. If it were better.''
Lance is afraid he won't say anything. Lance has been not knowing what to say, leaving him with the spice of depersonalisation. Sometimes he still hates the human silences in which he is forced to live. Them make him feel spindly. Now they are less miserable, less of a crisis. He handcrafts a lack of a self, and now he's handcrafting a silence.
''My hand. Fingers. I can't f—'' the soldier starts coughing again. Leans his head back. It's quiet again. It's been quiet for days. It's even quieter tonight. This is the first time in the month Lance has been in the barren Isonzo highlands without a snowstorm's loudness. He has gotten used to them. To all the noise. He has been falling asleep over cannon shots. He recognises missiles by sound: calibre 152 whistles; calibre 75 creaks; calibre 305 howls.
''Where's your base? Unit?'' Lance wonders if the soldier could be a spy. He is so undefensive, though. His face shapes into something knowing and tender and seeing Lance. Lance sees it: the soldier won't tell. Lance imagines a hostage situation, then unscrews it from himself like something rusty and illness-causing.
''What's with—'' the soldier starts, but trails off, and Lance interrupts with the same wording, on some strange but fierce and untamed instinct.
''What's with your shelf life? Freezing won't increase it.''
''No. Maybe I'm recyclable?'' the soldier says. Now it's evident that moving his face is difficult, some orchestration undercooled. Lance doesn't really see the relevance. The soldier says this with no grief. Some grief? What does grief look like? Lance imagines himself on a timeline. He imagines that in a hundred years someone will be swimming in the lowland river under an arch of rocks and see his helmet, washed with rain and time from the highlands, then caught in between two rocks, in between something unmovable under the force of things that move slowly but ferally.
But he is in the now. He rests his rifle against the sandbag wall, feeling the soldier's eyes track him. He pulls the glove off his left hand, and throws it, aiming for lightly, at the soldier. The soldier's face furrows, a little, but Lance is delicately attuned. The soldier is trying to pull his wet glove off with his teeth. It's slow and looks uncomfortable. Suddenly, Lance is angry at discomfort. He sinks to his knees and crawls to the soldier. He holds the soldier's arm, while the soldier is out of breath. It feels like giving in, like a decision making itself; he's pulling the soldier's glove of, finger by finger, the way it goes; he's pulling the soldier's glove of worrying: am I doing this too slowly?
Peripherally, he sees the soldier watching his face. One time, Lance's sister said to him: you are in my emotional space. Now Lance thinks: you are up my aorta!
I know you don't know what to do, the soldier's eyes say. I know you know that, Lance's say back.
This silence doesn't feel miserable. It feels a little unreal, like windless snow, like the faraway quiet. It feels a little awkward. Lance backs away, maybe out of the soldier's emotional space, and crouches, hands on the ground. His left hand is painfully cold. Good. This isn't awkward, the soldier is ferociously unwell.
The soldier has looked away. Into nothing, squinting strangely. Time passes, and Lance lets it. Lance watches it. He starts squinting at the soldier, until he notices, blinking like head-clearing.
''Do you ever look at afterimages?'' the soldier asks, hazedly, obscured with a veil of dreaminess. Or maybe this is terminal tranquillity.
Lance's bughotel mind is lagging. ''What?''
''Spots,'' the soldier says. ''After.''
''After what,'' Lance asks.
''Images. Colours. Something dark in the snow.''
Images; Lance recalls the pocket photo. The blur of Shiro. Images, colours, something dark in the snow. Lance likes this. He likes triads, he thinks. Stone, mist, hair undoing. Salt, ferocity. Something.
''Shiro. Shiro?'' Lance calls. Shiro pulls his legs closer to himself. Snowflakes are drifting, the dusk is white and light with snow. A film of snow is covering Shiro's shoulders.
Freezing unthinking; unworded observations; undoings. Lance decides, then, with determination he doesn't have, or maybe, after all, the determination he has: he knows the next step, and it's undoing the freezing unthinking. His cavern is his, too, after all. He can go inside. He will bring Shiro inside.
This is how they go: Lance is holding his rifle in one hand, relaxed at his side, a just-in-case, a warning, the other arm in the air and open. Shiro is breathing behind him. Lance opens the door, slowly, tactically. Like an ambush?
''Alright, now,'' Lance starts.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27092113
ConHon entry I did for @ribbitsplace at AkiCon this sunday! Sorry, if I was acting weird, I was just super caught off guard.
This made me flip through my old ConHon once I was back home and – wow, it really is time to bring that tradition back.
While we can agree the Voltron fandom is currently a crash site of vicious disagreements and ship wars, one thing that has risen above the ranks is the sheer amount of ao3 author support. A lot of people are frustrated with the newest season, particularly if (like me) you’re a member of the LGBT+ community who has come face-to-face with the “Bury your gays” trope yet again, or even if you’re someone who has issues with how the plot or characterisation has been done. Everyone’s frustrations are valid because everyone has their own opinion (and I’ll slip in here that while these emotions are yours to express please don’t abuse the creators of Voltron, they deserve respect like any human), but I am LIVING for the sheer amount of genius fix-it fics that have been boosted on this website. While discourse will continue, please be respectful of the fic writers who put their effort into improving the plot how they see fit, and enjoy the works that they lovingly give to the fandom. A lot of reblogs of fics are appearing in the tags so keep up the support for our fandom in these tough times and channel your shipping frustrations into supporting your favourite authors!! Stay positive through these dark times and respect one another!!
“No one fucks with my baby,” by Hozier is so good and I just HAD TO CREATE AN AU FOR IT AND DRAW SOME PICTURES FOR IT sorry not sorry 🤷🏻♀️🤷🏻♀️🤷🏻♀️
Warning: there is a butt so. 🤷🏻♀️🤷🏻♀️
Solve puzzles, explore history: Uncover the secrets of a beautiful Japanese puzzle box in SHI•RO.
Y’all this Japanese game is deadass called Shi.ro Ive never wante something more in my life and it looks BEAUTIFUL
Guess what!
Hey all! So I’ve decided to open commissions on one-shots!
So the rules:
1. Try and keep the prompt in the 1000-2000 word range for me to write. A couple sentences for a prompt is great, just give me a general outline of what you want!
2. No weird kinks, please. I do nsfw for sure, but weird kinks... no thank you. Lightly kinky things are okay. I’ll let you know what I’m comfortable with.
How it works:
Send your prompt to my kofi with your $3 commission fee that’s required to buy/donate something on Ko-fi. Try and keep it short please! I work weekends and sporadically in the week, so I really don’t want elaborate plots that take me weeks to do. Also, I will not write anything for you without you paying up front.
However! If you do want an elaborate plot, then I ask that you pay $3 (a kofi) for each chapter you want. Message me on my other blog (@gravitationallychallengedrabbits) or comment here if you have a long plot and want to talk to me about it!
The fandoms I will do:
Hetalia, Voltron, She-Ra: Princesses of Power, Final Fantasy 15
The ships I’ll do:
Adashi, shance, sheith, klance, kidge, shidge, lance/romelle, shallura, shklance, usuk, fruk, spapru, spamano, gerita, catradora, catra/scorpia, mermista/seahawk, promptis, ignis/gladio. There may be more, just message me!
Be warned: I haven’t written for spop or FFXV yet, and it’s been years since I’ve written for Hetalia.
I will also write something for your OCs if you give me a good enough description! I’m always open to experimenting with new characters.
I love you guys and look forward to this <3
I am also opening up requests! Send me a prompt for a oneshot - smut, fluff, angst, etc. - and I will write it! I will also be reblogging some prompt posts for you to pick and choose from.
Not only that, I will write just about any ship you send me. Have fun!