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when the sky falls and the world is ending and the rain comes down..

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Where the apple falls by @jupiters-junipers

I'm on my third reread of this fic and boy does it hurt just as much as the first time!! Then I found this song that reminded me of it and I just. Had to draw it. Highly highly recommend reading it btw it's a masterpiece!!

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klance F1 au heheh everyone be soooo kind this au is my baby. they are 100% obsessed w each other btw

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Been a long day

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happy birthday Lance💙 the coolest ninja sharpshooter💙 be happy our boy🥺

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It's his day and no one else's!!!!!

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JULANCE DAY 27: LOVE

Keith was never sure what “love” was supposed to look like, growing up. He saw it on television screens, read it in books, and glimpsed it at parks and the grocery store. Still, he couldn’t make sense of it. In most stories, love was said to be this grand, consuming force, moving mountains and crossing rivers to pull together two separate people.

However, he knew from experience that love wasn’t actually enough. His father claimed his mother loved him, and she left anyways, leaving behind nothing but a weapon and a heartbroken man. Love wasn’t enough for her to stay, or for his father to hesitate before entering the fire that stole his life. It wasn’t enough for Shiro to keep his feet planted on Earth.

So Keith didn’t believe in love’s mystical power for most of his life. He thought of it as an abstract fantasy to play up in fiction; cute, sellable, but unrealistic.

Then, he went to space. He met Lance. Overdramatic, flirtatious, and explosive, Lance wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before. Instead of trying to calm Keith down or calling him crazy, he fed into Keith’s strangeness, brought out this competitive fire in him that wouldn’t seem to rest. At first, he pissed Keith off unendingly. Over time, though, they grew up, and Keith learned so much about the strange boy who’d whisked them all off-planet in the first place.

When Pidge was down, Lance had an easy cheer and steady presence that pulled her off a ledge of despair. Allura could rely on him to relax her with face masks or conversations about Altea. If Hunk was spiraling in his head, Lance begged him to try garlic knot recipes again, giving him an external task to distract. Coran shared parts of the castle with Lance that Keith only knew by association. Even Shiro sometimes laughed amusedly at his poor attempt at humor.

And Keith? Well, when Shiro disappeared, he relied on Lance more than anyone else. Lance was the voice of reason to his ideas, the shoulder to lean on, the ears to listen to his fears, especially when Keith couldn’t explain well with words. Every part of Keith relied on every aspect of Lance.

That must have been when Keith realized: Lance knew love. He knew how to speak its language, knew how to alter his approach and show deep care depending on his loved ones’ needs. Somewhere deep down, Keith found himself jealous. Incredibly envious. Here was the difference between a boy who grew up with everything and a boy who was abandoned on the side of the road, left stray. Keith flinches from the hand that offers comfort. Lance, despite rebuke, is that hand.

This time, Keith leaves first, and when he comes back, Lance isn’t the same. It frightens Keith to his core. He tries to hide from this angrier, tired version of Lance. Like a magnet, Lance pulls, until finally Keith can’t help but fall into place once more.

More than ever, Keith sees Lance speaking the language he can’t understand, but at a new frequency. Lance speaks love into his desire to go home, then into his embrace with his mother, then into his relationship with Allura. It drips off his tongue like honey.

Keith tries and fails to avoid feeling hurt by the fact that he never receives any of it for himself. Maybe once, before the Blade, he would’ve. Back when they were co-leaders. Keith left, though, and now he can’t expect that same consideration.

Everything builds up. Keith, learning from Lance, finds a way to be moved by his small Voltron family. It spurs him to lead them to the end of the war, sword slicing past enemies and toward a brighter day. Hope is a bright, warm sun in his chest, and, when they come out of it, he wonders if Lance will have actually forgiven him. He can be worthy of that honor.

Plans never work out. Allura, fiercely loyal to her royal duties, dies. For them.

Keith watches helplessly as the disparate pieces of Lance fall apart. He wonders if he was right, as a kid, when he believed love wasn’t enough for people to stay. If loving Lance wasn’t enough for Allura, how can love be enough for anyone?

The world celebrates, but Lance is frozen, and Keith watches. He’s never spoken the language with which Lance so easily uplifts and understands them all.

No one seems to. The whole team fumbles with awkward silences and nervous expressions during their godawful press tour. Keith would have left Lance alone entirely, too panicked to respond, if not for the silence.

Lance is barely living, outside of their public appearances, and when he does, he’s angry or melancholy. Keith recognizes grief, knows that anger like it’s his own hand. Allura sacrificed herself, and Lance isn’t speaking at all, of love or otherwise.

Keith tries to help. He brings him out to the ocean, lets Lance seek catharsis. It feels like a step in the right direction. A few words, uttered by Keith, show that Keith sees Lance the same way Lance always made sure to see Keith. For a few, perfect minutes, he sees that spark reemerge in him.

But sparks terrify Keith, and he retreats into himself. His self-doubt and skittishness stands in his way, renders him silent once more as Lance returns to their tour emotionlessly, then after, goes to his family home. Keith lets him leave, like a coward, and disappears, too.

He avoids thoughts of Lance McClain like the plague for as long as he can. Months. Years. They see each other at a reunion, and it’s brief and awkward and full of Keith’s inability to string together sentences. As if nothing happened, they separate again. Lance doesn’t contact Keith. Keith makes no effort to call Lance. Their lives are so separate Keith begins to think they’ll drift forever, until they become nothing more than strangers. The concept leaves him hollow.

Then, he gets a message.

Dear Paladin Keith Kogane,

We hope this email finds you well. At the Universe Guardians Historical Society, we endeavor to preserve the legacy of our planet’s most esteemed heroes. As part of this, designating historical sites has become a key step in our mission.

Recently, we became aware of a property in Garrison possession formerly belonging to you. This property is your residence from the time before Voltron, in the desert outside the Garrison Academy.

We were wondering if you might be willing to let us transform this property into a museum about the origins of Voltron and the team.

In addition to its preservation, the Society will pay you a regular dollar sum for use of the land.

Thank you for your consideration,

The Universe Guardians Historical Society (U.G.H.S.)

Keith doesn’t like this group very much. They have Lance’s stolen shoe on display in one of their paid attractions, for one. Despite their hack nature, he considers the message heavily. Shiro wants Keith to visit soon, anyways, and he’d just planned to stop at his house briefly. However, this could be the perfect excuse to see Lance again. Lance is one of the few people who knows about Keith’s childhood. He’d never say no to helping unravel Keith’s past, and having an activity to do might smooth over the awkwardness. Together, Keith and Lance could clear out the desert home, and Keith could….

Well, he isn’t sure what he would do. He just knows he wants to talk with Lance.

Keith radios Acxa and tells her to step up in his absence from the Blade— the Zarkonites can wait.

He’d try to be better than the people that failed him. Keith’s feelings toward Lance might be enough, this time, to pull him back in.

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why is he laying like that

(lil present for you and for me for getting out of the art block and being able to post here again)

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JULANCE DAY 12: UNDERCOVER

These days, it feels like Lance is constantly pretending. To the team, he’s the same old Lance from before Keith’s stint in leadership. He cracks inappropriate jokes, welcomes any chance he can get in the spotlight. Any distraction.

It’s a thin veneer. In reality, he’s never felt more detached from the team. After Keith left, Lance began to notice some… changes in the newly-returned Shiro. Which, of course, would be reasonable. If not for the strange way he’d been acting.

Before, Lance never disagreed with Shiro. Ever. Shiro was a shining beacon of intellect and wisdom to rookie Lance, above all criticism. Now that he feels brave enough to enter leader discussions, though, he tries to give his two cents on strategy. He’s really become fond of sitting at the small table with Allura and Keith or swiping quickly over star charts while they listened to his ideas. For all his flaws as a leader, when Keith leaned forward and unblinkingly watched Lance, he really knew how to make him feel heard.

It doesn’t go that way with Shiro.

“Lance, why are you here?”

The simple utterance knocks a crack in his newly-forged armor. He clears his throat. “As red paladin, I usually helped out during pre-battle discussions with Allura and Keith.”

Allura nods, pleasantly gesturing for Lance to join them at the table. Reluctantly, the red paladin sits by her, keeping a careful eye on Shiro. “Lance has truly stepped up in your absence alongside Keith in a way we couldn’t have ever predicted. Keith and I trusted his counsel often, and usually that resulted in great success.”

“Wow. Thanks, Princess,” Lance replies honestly. Warmth blooms behind his ribs, relieved to have some support.

“Alright,” Shiro agrees, hands stiff on the table.

The meeting is a disaster. Shiro shares a plan that Lance really can’t get behind, with formations that place them inside civilian centers rather than at the edges of them. He listens thoughtfully as the older man explains his rationale: Galra troops have been known to invade from all angles, and according to Shiro, it’s simpler if they form a circle and let the Galra come to them at the center. Politely, Lance shares a gentle objection; he’s concerned that the civilians won’t all be able to evacuate in time, and that the formation will cause increased public damage.

“Soldier, I don’t recall asking for your approval.”

His words are sharp. They leave no room for doubt. And yet, Lance can’t help but pushing, confused at the strangeness of his words.

“I just think—��

“You’re not the person we turn to for thinking, are you?”

It’s colder than Lance has ever heard Shiro. Wrong. His gut twists, rejection stinging like a physical blow. Even Allura looks aghast.

“Sorry, Shiro.” He plasters on a respectful expression and slightly inclines his head.

He doesn’t return to leadership meetings after. Lance isn’t like Keith, stubborn and demanding in face of dismissal. Especially not from Shiro, the man from his posters, who made him believe in heroes.

Then comes The Voltron Show. In all his memory, Lance cannot remember hating a stage as much as he hates this one. Traveling across the galaxy, riding on their universe-saving fame while doing nothing for it, he feels like an utter joke. Because he is one. Loverboy Lance! Come see him spin and flirt and drink up attention like it’s ambrosia, powerful enough to save him until it burns him up from the inside out, makes him golden and rotten just for you! It’s all so fake that it makes him actually vomit, one night.

An alien had asked for his signature. Lance scribbled it with a paintbrush they handed him, but in reality, he was entirely not there. His hands tingled and his body and brain almost felt as if they were splitting apart, as though he’d watched the scene from above.

“Thank you so much for all you do!” the alien chirped.

What does he do? Lance doesn’t strategize, doesn’t even fire so much as a warning shot, lately. He’s just a face. A symbol, and a boring one at that.

He smiles, thanks them, and rushes back to his bathroom to grab at his toilet. At 17, Lance would have killed to have this much fame. Convinced that fame was an achievement, he sought it desperately, believing that being known meant he was worthy.

Now, a year later, he’s all too aware of how cheap fame can be. Fame means nothing after seeing blood and heartbreak and war. Being known by millions is worth so much less when the people who matter people aren’t looking.

Hunk and Pidge don’t note his change in mood. It’s not their faults, really. Coran is running them all ragged with routine prep, and Hunk and Pidge have the extra awful task of coordinating special effects. They’re both practically dead on their feet whenever they cross paths with Lance.

Therefore, it’s no surprise that he gets closer with Allura. Who else does he have? Both of them are distantly moored without ports. Coran is far too distracted to notice her, and Lance… he’s missing some people, too. They discuss everything with each other. Lance missed having someone to confide in, but Allura is perfect for the job, kind and judgmental in an easy balance. Allura admits that she hates playing Keith, how she just wants to be herself. Lance has to agree— it’s incredibly awkward to witness her trying to play a part so obviously at odds with her and with Keith alike. She’s become a facsimile of herself. It’s a sentiment Lance can relate to, and he shares as much, relieved at her understanding.

Show after show after show. Faux grin after false flirtation after ostentatious lies. Lance plays his part and plays it well.

He wonders if Keith is making a difference with the Blade. Finally, he went somewhere Lance couldn’t chase him to. Bitterly, Lance wonders if that was the point, and tries to put him out of his mind entirely.

As far as anyone watching in the universe will know, Lance is doing wonderfully. He’s Loverboy Lance! Flashy. Dazzling. Shiny.

Unrecognizable.

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klance at the mcr concert bc if i can’t go THEY WILL ‼️

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oh, nothing. just thinking about older keith with long hair

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A bit late to the party but happy blue month to the only blue boy ever<33

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JULANCE DAY 11: STORMS

There’s a storm on the horizon. Lance can feel it deep in the marrow of his bones, that slight crackling of energy signifying a downpour. He loves the feeling right before a storm, the humidity and charge and anticipation of it all. Over the course of this war, he’s learned that he thrives in that spot, the fear and panic associated with a before moment.

When the team turns to him, right as they’re about to enter a battle, and asks, Lance, what do we do?

Somehow, he almost always has an answer. He’ll relay his formation to Keith and watch as the black paladin takes the violent, sudden plunge. It’s breathtaking to witness the lightning finally break, wind curling in spirals and lifting them higher than Lance ever thought possible. Battle becomes less of a tornado and more of a precision shot. Keith and Lance have become less rivals and more teammates. Friends, even, especially under the cover of late nights.

The liminal space nighttime affords breaks new grounds for them. As they do paperwork and review reports, their exhaustion lowers their walls, opens their conversations up in front of dark, star-studded windows. On lighter days, they laugh over memories like Keith trying to fight the Arusians or their awful pool attempt. Other times, they bare their hearts more meaningfully. Lance opens up about his family, missing his siblings and his parents, wondering if the war has changed him beyond recognizability. Keith first shares his lack of family back on Earth in very short detail. Most of the team knows the basics; Keith finding out about his alien heritage exposed some of the less-fine details. Then, however, he delves into more.

Keith isn’t a storyteller. His words are blunt, simple, and honest. Still, Lance has always had a vivid imagination, and Lance can picture it all as Keith describes it (and then some).

A young boy, with only a father, both living out of a somewhat-ramshackle desert home. Eating quick microwaveable foods, but thinking they were “awesome,” because your dad said the other firefighters ate them too. Being somewhat of a loner at school, too shy to talk to the other kids, and maybe too odd to be approached.

Getting pulled out of class. Learning about the fire that killed him.

“And Allura tells me I’m the guardian of fire, when we find the lions,” Keith remarks with a bitter laugh. “I was 17, and even then, I knew that was fucked up.”

It sticks with Lance, makes him hurt. Every ounce of his effort goes into holding himself back from wrapping Keith tight in his arms and forcing him to stay, to feel comfort for once.

They find solace in one another, in the blanket-fort security only late hours can provide.

“You were strong anyways, red.”

“Did we have another option?”

Lance thought things were going well, for them. Keith and Lance, side by side, chasing greatness together like a story out of his favorite childhood movies.

And then he senses it: the storm. It comes on slowly, a few warnings happening in a row right before the flood. He should’ve known better than to feel settled in a war, alongside a partner known to run at the start of a drizzle.

First: the injury.

“Lance, Lance, Lance,” Hunk’s voice shrieks over the comms. They’re on the ground on a horrible planet, one made of desert sand colored bright orange. Over and over, they have to wipe their visors as they engage Galra forces, clearing dust and debris. It’s so hot that Lance can barely breathe between his shots.

“What, buddy?” Lance shouts back, alarmed at the fear in his voice. Hunk’s consistent phobias haven’t vanished, but he has become more sturdy with time. It takes more than a small incident to shake him, now.

“It’s Keith!” Hunk continues as Lance kicks away a sentry and clubs another. “He’s hurt!”

The world stops. The universe stops. For barely a second, Lance lets the words sink in, lets the reality crash over him. He wants nothing more than to run right to wherever Keith is and grab him, drag him to Red, and zip back to the castle. Or to scream his lungs out.

Then, he feels a tugging on his arm, and looks slightly downward. Pidge is there, eyes wide and worried, and fuck, Keith is down. He has to make the calls. Lance can’t just rush toward him with fury and fear.

“Keep going, Pidge,” Lance orders, patting her shoulder and sending her off. She nods sharply, a calculating but rage-filled expression overtaking her features as she spins back in the fray. To hunk, he continues, “Get Keith back to the castle and hand him off to Coran! We clean up here, we get out, and he’ll be fine. Damage assessment?”

Hunk, loyal and kind, ignores the way his voice breaks on the last phrase. “Long slashing wound to lateral thorax!”

Lance quells the flash of emotion that threatens to consume him. “Go, Hunk!”

“Roger.”

And Lance hates himself as the comms isolate to Pidge and Allura’s cross battle talk. He should be there, by Keith. He wishes he was there. Realistically, though, he knows he made the logical, correct call— Hunk is much stronger than him anyways, and Keith won’t be alone. Lance trusts Hunk with every fiber of his being.

That still doesn’t stop him from cutting through Galra soldiers like his life depends on it, anger and frustration channeled into expert shooting.

They clean up. Everyone gathers by Keith’s pod to wish him good luck on healing, but they trickle out after a few minutes. Healing pods have become routine after their months of fighting. Keith especially is no stranger to them.

Lance only steps away for ten minutes, to take a fast shower. He returns to wait by Keith’s pod for the remaining four hours, an Altean library tablet propped on his knee. It’s better than watching Keith, too still and too pale. When the pod finally opens, he jumps to his feet to support Keith. He’s grateful they’re alone, at first.

“Let me,” he demands, supporting Keith’s back and shoulders with an arm looping around him. Keith, for once, accepts the help and lets Lance lead him out of the pod with trembling legs. He feels cold to the touch, but he can stand. Thank God.

“Lance?” Keith blinks, clearly still out of it. Lance clasps his free hand in Keith’s.

“I’m here, samurai.”

“Aren’t you always?” Keith snorts. It stirs up warm feelings in Lance, so at odds with Keith’s state.

“Shut up,” Lance mutters, because he’s although he matured, he hasn’t really changed.

“I was so useless,” Keith groans out of nowhere. The statement makes Lance freeze, a deep frown taking over his features.

“You weren’t. We all get hurt.” Keith just huffs in his hold, shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t have made that call. You did good. Better, than I would.”

A pang threatens to bowl Lance over. He stays standing, steady, if only for Keith.

“We don’t know that.”

“We do, though.”

Maybe Lance should have seen the sparks even back then. Perhaps he was willingly blind. Instead of continuing the conversation, though, he instructed Keith to get rest.

“You’ll make more sense in the morning, Kogane.”

Second: the unthinkable.

Shiro is back. He’s alive. The whole team rejoices, eyes bright, relief and love palpable. Pidge practically climbs all over Shiro, desperate to learn what happened to him. Hunk is beaming. Coran claps a hand over his heart. Allura is practically giddy.

Keith? He’s quiet. Keith engages briefly with Shiro, overwhelmed and happy and desperate to see him again. Then, after their reunion, he retreats slightly. Lance isn’t sure what occurred between the brothers, and isn’t able to hide his shock at the brevity of their conversation.

“Don’t you want to chat with Shiro more? He’s back, man!” Lance prods Keith with his finger while they sit at the edge of the room.

“I don’t want him to ask about my leading,” Keith responds shortly. He’s staring at Shiro from the walls, expression unreadable.

“What are you talking about? We did great.” Lance pushes his shoulder gently with his fist.

“I’m not looking for your input, Lance,” Keith snaps.

Which, ouch.

“That’s not what these past few weeks have shown,” Lance shoots back, pissed off at the quick dismissal.

“Stop getting in my business.” Keith stands abruptly and makes his way toward the doors, every line of his body sharp and tense. The shadow he leaves behind threatens to envelope Lance, a cloud of invisible smoke.

He supposes these kinds of conversations are strictly reserved for twilight.

Lastly: Lance.

It’s his fault. Of course it is! Every problem Lance has woven himself into has been with his speedy tongue, too energetic and fast-paced, speaking before he can fathom the consequences.

But he’d just been so used to talking to Keith. Sure, there’d been that one dismissal earlier. Still, though, he feels he can tell Keith anything. This is the man who learned every member of Lance’s family over reports, for goodness’s sake. So he approaches the black paladin with his insecurities.

Six paladins, five lions. Lance is hardly the best at combat or mechanics. If he has to step down, he’ll be fine.

Keith reassures him with some strange platitudes (who says “leave the math to Pidge” as a means of reassurance?) and Lance is grateful for the effort. Keith’s hand on his shoulder is unusual, while not unwelcome.

The strangeness of it all doesn’t leave him. Later that night, he tries to sleep, and can’t seem to fall fully into it. He’s restless with the day’s hubbub.

Suddenly, he hears something in the hall: soft tapping, a light grunt. Awareness crawls through his body in a sudden wave of cold air. He draws himself up to a seated position in the dark, bare feet touching the ground as he hears the tapping grow louder, then quieter.

Then it vanishes entirely.

Lance knows what direction those footsteps came from. Only two rooms lie at the end of the hall: Pidge’s and Keith’s. Pidge rarely moved once she found a perch for the night. That leaves one troubled leader, who Lance knows like the back of his hand. His decision isn’t fully thought out before he throws his robe on and runs down the hallway, chasing after those footsteps.

“Oh no you don’t,” Lance grumbles under his breath, turning brightly lit corridors and ignoring how the light burns his dark-adjusted eyes. It doesn’t take long to arrive at his destination: the emergency pods. Ten line the wall, but only one has a duffel bag and a dumbass beside it.

“Oh no you don’t!” Lance repeats, loudly. He jabs an accusatory finger and Keith’s owlishly blinking face. “You can’t leave us in the middle of the night!”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Keith hisses back. He’s dressed in his plainclothes and has one leg half in the pod already, a hand pushing up the door.

“Stay!” Lance practically explodes.

“I can’t. You said it yourself. We have an extra paladin, and I’m pretty much useless, now,” Keith explains. His words sound clinical leaving his mouth, stirring Lance’s blood further.

“I didn’t mean that you had to leave! I mean I’d step back!” Lance yells, volume increasing. “Don’t just run away! Shiro just returned, man.”

“And he’ll be safer with you than with me,” Keith argues. “I’m bad luck. You know that.”

“Not to me,” Lance says, raw and exposed and hurting once more. “Please don’t. I can’t. You’re our leader.”

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say. Lance knew Keith had always struggled to accept his leadership, even as he shone in the role.

“Goodbye, Lance. Take care of the team.”

He slides into the pod and shuts the door, taking Lance’s breathing with him. Keith has always hidden from the watchful eye of a surge, when he senses one coming. Lance wishes he could scream, as the clouds open up above him and unleash torrents upon his body. He wishes he could beat his fists against the pod door and curse it and make it stop its flight path. He wishes he could pull Keith out of the pod and wrap him in his arms. He wishes he could run to his side, throw caution to the wind.

Instead, he lets the rumble of thunder still his motion. Keith runs, and Lance stays, awaiting the hurricane he has brought upon them.

Because Lance McClain has always thrived in the moments before.

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Julance day 5: Family

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She hopes one day, it won’t be the voicemail she hears

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Sticker Pre-Orders until 3/31 - 2 Comm Slots Open!

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some drawings based on @/laikospam's posts from yesterday lol. is this too freaky

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BTW my askbox is open if anyone wants to ask about or suggest something for the western au:333 I have so many hcs I'm ready to yap