singtomemylove

[singtomemylove]

➡️ Content warnings on fiction are a courtesy. 

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➡️ Content warnings beyond the minimum are a courtesy, not an obligation.

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redraw of one of many homoerotic eye contact scenes. less detailed than i usually like to draw but i wanted to keep it somewhat animated looking

i gave up on the clothes im ngl

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Longing stare across the room

-highschool au-

Keith the intellectual art kid and Lance the kid enthralled with whatever Keith is doing.

I do have a story for both of them that im slowly drawing out so <3

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voltron as textposts etc. 20

(i’m finally free from the thought that i need to have 10pictures for each post! so relieving because it’s hard)

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i kinda draw

some sketches

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Half Galran crushes (boyfriends?) and their fangs

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Lance keeps calling what Coran and Allura do with Quintessence "magic" and Pidge is losing her rag with him cause "no Lance this is science" and to wind her up cause like he knows its science as well as she does he goes "can you explain it then?"

And Pidge is just fuming cause no she can't but there has to be something written down that she can understand through the lions translating everything in her head (cause I still vote that this is the best way for it to work cause also it's funny) so she goes to research all of the science she can find on quintessence only to continue to be left confused cause a lot of the words are still in Altean

So she brings it all to Coran and he explains there must just not yet be any direct translation for them if she can't understand them and so she's like "well can't you just explain them to me", but all the words he uses also don't translate and at this point he doesn't know how to explain those terms without using more Altean terms he can't explain without a Altean terms

Pidge decides to learn Altean at this point but obviously cause she's learning a language off the bat, she's got a long fucking way before she's getting to this particular section of Altean duolingo and she reaches a point where she's like I'm not gonna stop but I do think this is what I might face in hell one day

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voltron as textposts etc. 18

(this one is a bit more varied than the last one)

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My mum: what are you reading on your phone?

Me, reading klance fanfiction: it’s like Star Wars.

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Red protecting Keith protecting Lance because he’s a reckless self-sacrificing asshole

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MY SECRET SANTA GIFT FOR MY WIFEY @inkmousey ILYYYY ❤️

Prompt: sparring session leads to a smooch 💕

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i vowed i would always be yours, ‘cause we survived the great war

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merry christmas and happy holidays guys !! <33

my gift to you, this drawing as phone wallpapers bc I’m super super happy with how it turned out !! I hope you like em :)) 🖤

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Dogs don’t live long enough. I figure if there’s anything that’s going to make Keith cry, losing Kosmo will be it

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anglerfish 

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“There are three things I know,” Keith blurts. Lance stares at him blankly, or maybe angrily, or maybe in a way Keith can’t understand. He doesn’t bother trying, focusing instead on the way freckles dot Lance’s nose, mapping them to avoid looking at his whole face. He continues.

“The first thing is you have to — when you’re stabbed, you have to keep the knife there. You can’t pull it out or you’ll die. The second thing is that I’m bad at saying I love you. The last thing is that we know more about the moon than the ocean.” He swallows and finds his throat bone dry, scratchy. It takes him ten or twelve tries to moisten it again. Lance says nothing as Keith orients himself, refusing to grant him the mercy of ending his sentence. He waits impatiently for the rest of Keith’s sentiment, for the explanation. Or maybe he’s stopped listening and Keith is talking at a wall. He can’t tell. He still can’t bring himself to meet Lance’s eyes. He’s scared they won’t be as warm as they have always been.

“I’ve never been stabbed,” he finally manages. His voice is quieter now, muted and embarrassed, rather than the thoughtless rambling it was before. Hems made a claim and now he has to back it up and there is nothing in his fucking tank to do this. He’s sandwiching the truth between seventeen loaves of bullshit and he knows it and he’s sure Lance knows it but Heaven itself could not stop him, even if It had any desire to reach down and protect him. “I’ve never, uh, known anyone either. Who has been. I read it in a book once. And of course I can say it. It just never sounds like I mean it. And I don’t know anything about the moon or the ocean, really. I just meant humanity as a whole. The collective knowledge of science is more detailed on the satellite rather than the body of water, I mean.”

Say something, he wants to beg Lance, but even he knows that’s unfair. He wants to fold himself up and hide away. He wants to scream at Lance at the top of his lungs, for making him say any of this, for making him think it. Keith never let himself feel this clearly before he met him. Before Lance Keith kept a box of things locked and guarded in the back of his mind and if anyone so much as poked at it he ran. It worked for ten years.

But Lance danced in with a smirk and the scent of crushed daisies and Keith handed him the fucking key.

“And?” Lance asks quietly, throwing him a bone. Taking pity on him. Or mercy. They’re the same thing anyway.

Keith’s hands tremble violently. He clenches them into hard fists and could cry at the relief it brings. “I know more things. I just. Those are the things that never sit right.” The shaking starts again in his fists, then travel up his arms and jerk his shoulders, and soon he’s trembling so badly he’s half convinced he’s seizing, half convinced he’s going to have a stroke and die before he can stutter to an end, finish the fucking sentiment he offered up. The clenching of his teeth does nothing and they clatter so badly they crack to a million pieces and fall to pieces at the floor. His skin flinches right of his body. Every spasm of his muscles oozes blood down to a growing pool on the floor. He is open and bleeding and peeling and cracking and flaying and peeling and crumbling and he is open and open and open and falling, endlessly, disintegrating at Lance’s feet, essence of him seeping into Lance’s sneakers.

“Why does stabbing hurt twice?” he whispers. “Why can’t acts of good be what they are? Why can I sit on the beach and know less than what splashes in front of me than a blinking distant satellite? It doesn’t — sit right with me.” He swallows again and it’s salty. “Does it sit right with you?”

The boiling puddle of him sputters and bubbles. Every thought he’s ever had is on display. He is a spitting pool of acid and the goo at the bottom of a dumpster. He stains everything he touches. The floor will never be white and pristine again, even if it looks it, because he will always know that here is when he threw up every bit of him and still tried to hide behind what he could and here is where he lost.

“I just want you to tell me the truth,” Lance says eventually. Keith finally meets his eyes, and the brown of them isn’t dark or cold or hard but instead shuttered behind closed doors. For the first time in all the years Keith has known him he has a barrier up. It is so foreign on his face that it’s startling, like walking up to your own front door and finding the locks changed, like laying your head on your pillow and finding it smelling like someone else, like waking up to find your fingerprints in a new pattern.

“I just told you three.”

———

based on this poem by @mavigator

[singtomemylove]

ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢʟɪᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ ɪꜱ ɢᴏʟᴅ (ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱʜᴏᴏᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʟᴅ)

Pairing: Klance

Summary: He’d never been in Miami before. Hell, he’d never left New York before. But maybe it wasn’t all bad. Shiro seemed like a cool guy; he was friendly and welcoming and didn’t seem to mind the fact that Keith was now sharing his room with him. He was even going to introduce Keith to his friends. The thought made Keith slightly anxious. Then again, why should it? He was going right back to New York at the end of August. If it all went to shit tomorrow, at least he’d only have to spend three months with no friends. And in those three months, he wasn’t at school or any other place that required having friends to be tolerable. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t all bad. 

Warnings: cursing, let me know if there’s anything I missed.

“A whole summer.” Keith groaned over the phone. “Yes, that’s what Krolia said. Just because she thought she could waltz back into my life again does not make her my damn mother.” 

“Are you sure you’re not just being over-dramatic?” Luka, his best and only friend since the eighth grade, asks. 

“Positive.” Keith grits his teeth. “It’s a three hour flight. To Miami. From New fuckin’ York. This is bullshit.” 

“I live in Miami, dipshit.” Luka reminds. Keith feels his eyebrows furrow. He forgot about that part. 

He’d met Luka over an online game, which, okay, maybe wasn’t the most trustworthy way of getting to know people. That never stopped Keith, though. He bounced from foster home to foster home for a while, from the ages five to seventeen. Maybe internet weirdos weren’t his biggest worry. 

His Dad was a firefighter, back in Texas. His Mom, though she’d never actually been a mother, left when he was born. Until now, that is. She finally decided she wanted a kid, when Keith was seventeen. 

“When are you leaving?” Luka snapped him from his thoughts. She was good at that. 

“Tomorrow.” Keith admitted. 

“And you’re only packing now? What the fuck, Keith?” 

“I was in denial, okay?!” He tried to justify, but she was right. 

“Jesus Christ—a whole summer and you’re only packing now? Do—are—can you—what the fuck.” He could imagine her face palming right now. 

“I have most of it done!” 

“Where are you even staying?” 

“With her best friend from high school, and their family. They have a son, who’s like, twenty something. He’s also going to stay with them for the summer. Pretty sure he grew up there, or something. I don’t know, I stopped listening.” 

“Okay. That’s..rough, but manageable.”

“Easy for you to say.” 

“Hey! I’m trying to help you out here, dickhead.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Keith stuffed more clothes into a suitcase. 

“What’s the family like?” 

“I don’t know. A woman and her wife and their adopted son. The son’s the son I was talking about—“

“No, really?”

“Bitch.” 

“Dumbass.” 

They were in a comfortable silence after that as Keith packed.

“At least there’s no time difference.” Luka broke the silence.

“Yeah. I don’t have anything against the beach or anything, but I’d really prefer to deal with a ridiculous amount of sun in a way that’s not against my will, so…” He trailed off. 

“I get it. How bad can it really be, though?”

Bad. It can be really bad, and Keith should’ve known it. After the chaos that was walking through an airport, Keith was entirely sure that he’d lost his phone somewhere between leaving the house and getting to where he needed to be. He thanked God or whoever’s up there when he’d realized it was in his back pocket. 

The plane ride had been boring at best, but that was the least of Keith’s worries. 

His main worry, which could be deemed a pretty important one, was that he had no clue what Krolia’s friend looked like.

He waited anxiously at baggage claim after grabbing his luggage. He looked around, trying to spot a family of two or three looking around for an eighteen year old boy.

He didn’t find one.

Shit, he thought. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

He nearly jumped out of his own skin when he felt someone tap his shoulder. 

“Sorry!” A woman, with dyed blonde highlights on her shoulder length brown hair, apologized. “Are you Keith? Kogane?” She asked, staring up at him. She was pretty short, maybe 5’1 or 5’2. 

“Er—Yeah. I am.” 

“You’re Krolia and Texas’s kid! You look just like them.” She smiled, as if remembering something.

“Texas?” Who the hell was Texas? 

“It’s what we used to call your dad. We all went to high school together, and he had his heavy accent, so we all called him Texas.” She explained, seemingly able to understand what he was thinking. “I’m Mary. My wife’s name is Hana. She’s in the car with Shiro. You’ll like him, he’s not too far from your age.” She introduced herself. He assumed Shiro was her son. 

She lead him to their car, and he quickly put his suitcase and duffel in the trunk before getting into the backseat. 

A man, with black hair—minus a section in the front, which was pure white—was sitting there. He smiled warmly as Keith buckled his seatbelt. 

“Hiya there, Keith.” Hana said from the driver’s seat. “How’s your mom been recently?” 

“She’s fine.” He said awkwardly as he stared at his shoes. They were completely white, minus rainbow stripes on the midsoles of them. 

“Have you ever been to Miami?” She asked. 

“No.” He shook his head. He didn’t miss how Mary lightly smacked Hana’s arm, giving her a look. Hana didn’t ask anymore questions. 

It was a quiet ride, minus the soft sound of the radio playing the 2010’s pop music. 

When he got to his new home for the summer, Shiro grabbed his duffel for him. 

“Thanks.” He murmured, and Shiro replied with: “You’re welcome.” 

They walked up the porch steps and into the house. 

“You don’t mind sharing a room, do you?” Hana asked after a moment. 

He shook his head. 

“Perfect. You’ll be staying up in Shiro’s room. I know you boys will get along.” She shot him a large grin. “You’re not too far off in age. You’re eighteen, right? Shiro’s twenty-two. It’s not too far off.” 

And she was right; it wasn’t. 

He walked up the creaky stairs and followed Shiro to his room. 

It wasn’t a small room, and maybe even a bit bigger than average. There were two beds in the room, and he could tell that the room was basically divided in two. 

“Hello,” Shiro introduced himself. “I’m Shiro. You’re from New York, right?” 

He gave a small nod, feeling awkward already. 

“Nice to meet you, Keith. There’s space for your clothes in the dresser; I moved all my stuff into the closet.” He gestured towards a dresser against the wall. 

“Thanks.” Keith responded. 

“No problem. Did you eat dinner yet?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Before my flight.” Keith replied. It was true, he had eaten. 

“Great. Do you wanna go to the beach tomorrow? I’m meeting my friends there at 11:00. I think you’ll like them, they’re pretty cool.” 

Keith didn’t like the idea. He could barely handle this, how was Shiro expecting him to meet a whole group of people? 

Nevertheless, he nodded slowly. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” Shiro smiled again. 

Keith checked the time on his phone. 8:42 PM. Not too far from nine. He normally didn’t go to sleep this early, but he didn’t know what else to do. He could unpack, but he didn’t want help from Shiro and it would be awkward to just have him watch. 

“I’m gonna head downstairs. You okay to unpack?” Shiro asked. Keith gave him a quick nod, and Shiro walked out of the room. Keith mentally thanked him. 

He surveyed the room for the first time. The walls are white, with a popcorn ceiling and a fan in the middle of the ceiling. 

The left side of the room, seemingly now Shiro’s side of the room, had a bed with a black duvet and gray pillows. Next to the bed was a dark brown wooden nightstand. There was another white door, which seemingly led to a closet.

On the right side of the room, which was now seemingly Keith’s, had an identical twin sized bed, this one with red duvets and black pillows. Keith pulls back the duvet, nodding to himself as he proves that the sheets are also black. His side of the room also had a dresser and a nightstand. Against the wall that separated the room from the hallway was a bookshelf, filled with a bunch of books. 

Keith sets his suitcase and duffel back on the bed, opening both of them. He unpacked his clothes, organizing them in the dresser. He set his toiletry bag on top of the dresser, the dark gray coloring looking not too bad against the dark wood of the dresser. 

He plugs his phone charger into the outlet in between his bed and nightstand, plugging in his phone and setting it on said nightstand. 

He kneeled on his bed, looking out of the blinds of the window that his bed was next to. 

The window faces the road, and there’s several more houses on the street. 

The sound of the door opening took all of his attention as he turned to look. But instead of Shiro or his Moms, it was two cats instead. One black cat and one cat was a deep orange. Both cats padded into the room, and he got off the bed and kneeled down. The two cats rushed to him, sniffing his fingers before letting him pet them. The orange cat looked almost red due to the setting sun shining on its’ coat. 

He vaguely remembered Krolia telling him about two cats. He looked at their collars, the tags on them reading their names. The orange-red cat was named ‘Red’. Keith chuckled at that. Even better, the black cat was named ‘Black’. 

Original, Keith thought to himself. 

He sat down fully, letting the two cats crawl into his lap. He liked them. They didn’t talk or demand any kind of social interaction from him. They wanted pets and cuddles and that was it. 

After a few minutes, they both pad out into the hallway, Red following Black. Keith crawled into bed, checking his phone one final time. Seeing no new notifications, he set his phone down on the nightstand before rolling over and falling asleep.

He’d never been in Miami before. Hell, he’d never left New York before. But maybe it wasn’t all bad. Shiro seemed like a cool guy; he was friendly and welcoming and didn’t seem to mind the fact that Keith was now sharing his room with him. He was even going to introduce Keith to his friends. The thought made Keith slightly anxious.

Then again, why should it? He was going right back to New York at the end of August. If it all went to shit tomorrow, at least he’d only have to spend three months with no friends. And in those three months, he wasn’t at school or any other place that required having friends to be tolerable. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t all bad. 

A/n: going crazy with a new series