#i personally don't feel like god damn needs to be censored out BUT this still made me laugh lmao

[cowboyshit]

[thelionshoarde]

Voltron legendary defender, Shance, "Hey Beautiful. Oh $hit, wrong beautiful!" (You don't have to censor the swear if you're comfortable using it)

THIS IS SO LATE, but your prompt inspired an au where the galra never pick up the kerberos team and now shiro has to deal with being back home, not being as over adam as he thought he was, sick again for the first time in a while, and with the WHOLE WORLD now aware of his disease because sanda is a dick! And also most definitely some adorable shance. (or at least, i consider it adorable. there will be duck videos!!!) a thousand pardons for the tardiness, i kept waiting until i finished the whole fic but i’m hella slow and i just keep ADDING THINGS instead

anyway, this is JUST the scene with your prompt in it lol

psa: i focused mostly on ms rather than polio when researching for shiro’s disease, but 1) i need to do a lot more research and 2) i have no personal authority or experience over this topic (tho i do have some experience with chronic illness), so while i am trying to be respectful and realistic about what shiro in this circumstance might be dealing with, please remember that i know nothing about anything, thank you

“Hey, Captain!” called a grinning engineer, coveralls down about her waist. “Good to see you up and about!”

Ah.

Shiro let his shades fall down, slapping against the sides of his nose with gentle pressure. He angled a grin and a wave, and said, “Hey yourself,” and was content to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket and amble on over toward a big beauty all by herself on the far side.

He had been hoping not to be recognized.

More than that, he had been hoping not to be recognized in direct correlation to his disease. It wasn’t as though it weren’t a part of him, obviously -- he had to deal with it, he had to adjust the world around him to factor it in. It was there, always. But there had been a reason he’d kept it so under wraps. Shiro preferred when it was only ever acknowledged as an afterthought -- he wanted people to see him, not some version of him distorted by sickness.

At least the ‘ships were still beautiful and the summer breeze nice. He made it through the rest of the ‘yard without incident, taking a slow, curving path toward what looked to be a Corona Class vessel. Bulky, heavily shielded, made to withstand longer bouts of radiation than most of the fighters. Her cargo bay was a massive belly on the back half of her fuselage; she had to be hell on turns. And she was just as beautiful close up as she’d been at a distance. Even with his sunglasses on half of the ‘ship was a glare of sun on metal too bright to see through. It didn’t bother him; he knew a good freighter when he saw one.

Shiro came to an unsteady, grateful stop in the shadow of her nose, trying to ignore the way the world had slowly started spinning lopsided on its axis on the way over. He really should have brought his cane, but also: fuck his cane.

“Hello gorgeous,” he called up to the cockpit, nearly as bulbous as her cargo bay.

To his surprise, a voice called back: “You flatterer!”

Startled, Shiro took a step backward and nearly lost his footing, muscles not quite responding how they ought. Damn. He hadn’t realized there was anyone here. The ‘ship had been quiet the whole way over, and -- oh.

That was a torso and head rearing up from the cockpit, the top of which was apparently popped.

Shiro hadn’t been able to tell with the sun shining through the quartz glass at this angle. Ohhh shit, Shiro thought, embarrassed, as the person leaned down over the side of it and laughingly said, “I could say the same to you, Captain! I did not expect to see you here.”

“I didn’t mean you,” Shiro muttered, but he had a feeling his voice had carried with the wind because the shadowy blob nearly twenty feet overhead snickered a little. So Shiro said, louder, “I was talking to the ‘ship. I can’t even see you.”

“Just a minute and I can fix that!” the voice said, cheerily enough.

Shiro squinted through his shades, still embarrassed, and watched as the figure disappeared back into the ‘ship. The cockpits on freighter class vessels were only released for maintenance or in the case of critical emergencies out in the black. That high up in the air it wasn’t feasible to get in and out of in anything less than zero-G. A moment later and the cargo door dropped open with a creaking groan beneath the ‘ship’s high-mounted tail.

Shiro considered turning around and wandering off the way he’d come. But --

He had left the apartment because he couldn’t stand to be there, trapped. He had never felt trapped inside a spacecraft, though, even one that was grounded. And what was one person versus a whole Garrison full of them, which he’d have to traverse again if he wanted to leave. He’d been stopped only once on the way out here, yes, but there was no telling how many might stop him a second time.

And besides. He was pretty certain he wasn’t going to be able to make the walk without issue, if the numbness spreading through his shoulder, now, was any indication.

Fuck, this was awful. What was the best option here? Suddenly he felt tired all over again, weary and worn down, hating how something once so simple had become so complex. He’d just wanted to see the damn spaceships. Fuck this relapse, and fuck himself for not putting on the damned pump when his doctor had told him to.

“Hey, Captain!” the voice called once more, peering out at him, crouched absurdly halfway down the lowered ramp. “Do you want to check my girl out or not?”

The grin smudging against the corners of his mouth in response to that casual, boasting question was all the reason Shiro needed to feel better about staying right here, at least. Hands in his pockets, Shiro carefully ambled on over to the back half of the ‘ship, working hard to keep it natural looking. “Corona Class, right? I recognize the body type, but I didn’t realize there were any still in active use. There were only, hm… three? Before I left for Kerberos.”

“Yup. Helen’s the last one standing. And she’s been refitted, too, so she’s super sexy. I bet you’ve never seen anything like her.”

Snorting, Shiro finally came around aft and put a cautious foot up on the heavy metal of the cargo door, converted into a ramp here where it had thumped into the ground. “I bet I haven’t,” Shiro agreed peaceably enough. He always enjoyed it when pilots were a little in love with their ‘ships. Somehow it made him trust them more.

“Come on, come on, get up here! I never thought I’d get to show off for Captain Shirogane, I’m about to pee myself in excitement here, come on.”

“Whoa,” said Shiro, brows skyrocketing and finding a hand thrust down to help him up the ramp. The sight made something tighten inside his chest, and it was on the tip of his tongue to protest that he didn’t need any help, thank you, he knew his way around a fucking freighter. But then he followed that hand up to the man it apparently belonged to and recognized him.

“Oh,” said Shiro, startled. “You’re -- Ensign Maine, right? From the uh. The press conference?”

The ensign had risen from his crouch and come to stand sideways, staring back into the belly of the ‘ship. His hand was wiggling in impatience, and considering his past experience with this particular ensign, Shiro had the sudden, strong impression that it hadn’t been held out in deference to Shiro’s potential delicacy, and instead simply because he was eager to get Shiro in and started on the tour and this was the compromise to coming down, grabbing Shiro by his jacket, and hauling him bodily up the ramp.

Huh.

Shiro was about to go ahead and take that hand, because he could probably use the help even if he didn’t want it, and this kind of offer was far more palatable than his first assumption. But at the question, the ensign squawked, swinging around to face him. Standing farther up the incline as he was, it put him taller than Shiro, and his eyes were dark and wide, mouth gaping open in ridiculous, dramatic affront. “Maine,” he said, indignant. “That -- totally not my name, oh my god. Have you thought -- ? Agh! And all this time I’ve been so excited that I actually talked to you and you didn’t even know my name, what --”

Shiro reached up and snagged the ensign’s hand in his, tugging hard, just to get him to shut up. And also maybe because he wanted to. Just a little. Smirking, Shiro said, “I still remember you. Sorry I got the name wrong. What is it?”

He would have looked for himself, but for whatever reason this ensign seemed determined to make it impossible to see the damned name sewn onto his clothes. He was in orange again today, but this time it was a dirty coverall, the upper portion shrugged off to revealed toned biceps and forearms and what appeared to be a firm chest beneath a too-tight white undershirt. Happily, it was still just bright enough on the ramp that Shiro hadn’t had to take off his sunglasses, so the guy wouldn’t be able to tell where Shiro’s gaze was lingering. He let himself appreciate the way the ensign’s bicep bulged like a softball as he took Shiro’s weight, standing firm.

Nice.

“McClain,” said the man, now grinning down at him. It was a very white grin, big and bright in a lean, handsome face, and Shiro finally reached up to twitch his sunglasses atop his head, because Ensign McClain was officially pretty enough for eye-candy and -- yep, those eyes were blue, dark and a little wicked with that glint in them.

“Nice to meet you, Ensign McClain,” Shiro said.

McClain waggled his brows and drew Shiro a little closer, up half a step onto the ramp. “The pleasure, Captain,” he teased, “is all mine. Trust me on that one.”

[tamiddyinyourcity]

2:05am.

Wednesday, January 8th of 2020.

Ah fuck, I remembered that I needed to wash lemon juice off my face.... if i leave it on overnight, am i gonna bleach and burn holes in my skin?

Anyways.

What's upsetting me?

I expected to get out of bed today. It did not happen.......

Remembering how I shaded Azalea. It was messy.

Then remembering how she straight up was acting sus from the jump.... Why waste energy stalking my page when my dms are LITERALLY OPEN? i befriend fucking anyone! Someone can dm me at any time even on some "hey lets be friends" or "who r u", and i will reply! I wouldnt be a weird bitch and purposely do shit that makes me look bad if there wasnt anything fucking wrong? (Excluding the swearing incident, but she did do shit wrong, so like.... screw that.)

The odd feeling that I'm being watched by her still? I get that vibe.... wouldn't be the first time that someone I barely knew still stalked my pages.

The awkwardness of "his friends still see my tweets". I'm not 100% best buds with all of them.... Audrey is great, Cam is a good conversationalist, and I haven't reached out to Jasper based on pure nerves.

.....2:12am, Jasper unfollowed my instagram. Ouch, new reason to be upset. I liked Jasper. But admittedly, i do find it healthier to take the side of the person who didn't get soda doused on them after a breakup... So, i respect their decision anyways.

Just checked out of curiosity... Marcus blocked me too. (Honestly respectable though, I can't hate, didn't even noticed it happened. It either happened during the first breakup, or the most recent, but either is acceptable.) Just kinda sucks since I did like them both, before shit went down.

Whoo boy, did shit go down..... Oh well, they got to learn that I thought their friend had a small dick, and see me air out my problems online. Still valid.

Probably should lessen my willingness to air things out online, one way or another.

My list for what to do fell on the floor. I'll pick it up tomorrow, but still had to say that.

.....alright.

I guess it does feel weird.

A lot of it.

I didn't notice Jasper and Marcus unfollowed. It doesn't hurt that much, more of a "damn, when did that happen?", type moment.

But if they were already gone and I rarely talked to them, it's not really a loss?

Hmmm.....

So, technically, nothing was lost. If anything, information was learned.

And what about unknown lurkers on this page?

......

Well, they're unknown. It could either be everyone I know is looking at this page, one salty girl is looking at this page and cackling at whatever she wants to with her lonely spiteful ass, or I'm speaking into thin air. (My intentions all along.)

But the question is; shall I censor myself?

Self censorship seems idiotic. I prefer people to know the real me. And how i feel when i perceive things as, "me alone", and completely naked in m personality and whatnot.

I shouldn't care what a random girl thinks. If anything, now that things are over, i absolutely shouldn't.

God bless and amen.

......

And losing Patrick.

I don't care about Patrick #2 as of now, my angst towards him is gone. Just like him.

The important Patrick is the one I'm thinking. Patrick #1, the blonde, infamous, summer boyfriend Patrick.

A great guy.

Who sent me maybe 18 messages two nights ago, that i didnt read....

I already know that reading them isnt worthwhile.

Its gonna be all gaslighting or guilt shaming.... fuck that.

So.

If I really feel bad, (not for what i said, but how it was said,) then I'll leave him a voicemail!

Just to say if he wants to talk about what happened, then a call is better than text.

Since he's always been a big "save the big talks for over the phone" type. And im the "im not reading eight paragraphs if i can barely even read the notification at the top of my phone for a calendae date" alarm type, so..... yeah.

.....

2:28am.

Feeling a little better.

Patrick still has a small dick. (The brown haired one.) Can't take that back, so i may as well embrace it.

Aaaaand yeah.

I hope Jasper doesn't hate me too much, or Marcus. They both made the party so great for me when I was there; and genuinely seemed friendly.

Its right of them to take Patrick's side. He may be a lame asshole, but, i kinda respect that more than someone who wouldnt really defend their close roommate honestly.....

And nonetheless, there's not a person on Earth who I should be afraid of leaving my life. Good is everywhere, but its not always.... great, yknow?

I can open my main instagram and see likes on my page, but never any DMs when help is needed.

Just....

I dont have people like that. And for two invisible friends that i couldnt even get to like a picture or a post before couldn't do that when amped over me, then.... i cant expect much from them either way.

Thats all. Feels good.

Peace out.