#klangst week 2k17

[anothervldthingiemabibbie]

A Sixpence Song

Chapter 1: Dictionary Definitions

@klangst-week  Let’s do this

Sequel to The Notebook On the Bed. Prompt 1: Unrequited love/pining

Keith writes poems in a notebook, a hobby that he rarely partakes in. It’s strange imagining a brooding, dark-haired teen writing poems about flowers and feelings, but then again...

“I thought you could’ve been something great, but I guess you’re just a dropout.”

“It’s such a shame to see a young man throw his life away like that, without rational thought.”

“Oh what do you know, dropout?”

“You threw away your chance to be something good in this world, you know that? Threw it away on the hope for a dead man.”

“We can’t let him stay, he’s Galran! Who knows what he’ll do!”

“My family is gone because of his kind, my entire planet! All my people! I will not let one of them on my ship, as a Paladin!”

“We were supposed to be fighting Galrans. Isn’t that what we’ve been doing? What do we do now?”

Maybe it’s not difficult to imagine him doing that after all.

It started in a place where you’d expect demons to rise out of, not love.

(Then again, isn’t love a demon in itself?)

“Nope, no what the fuck.” Keith scribbles out the words, black graphite covering the scratched letters on the yellowing paper. “Stupid, edgy emo chunk of-” He crumbles up the page and chucks it at the wastebasket on the other end of the porch, missing by a mile. An impressive mountain of similarly crumpled sheets lay scattered on that side of the wooden floor, and if Keith kept this up much longer, he’d get fined for littering.

No, no I wouldn’t. Not anymore. He reminds himself. It’d been nearly a year since he’d gotten kicked out, a year since Shiro disappeared. A year since he’d lost his best friend, mentor, brother into space without so much as an explanation from those-those fuckers from the Garrison. Three-hundred-sixty-five days since that utter and complete piece of trash, Iverson, called him to his office to bust a vein at him, and then told him that he could either ‘shape up or ship out’. In response, Keith had silently pulled off his Cadet Identification Tag, bearing a small golden star in the corner marking him as an excelled student, and placed in on the desk, before walking stiffly from the room.

Hard to imagine that it was hardly a year since he, a straight-A honor student with promises of becoming one of the world’s best Fighter Pilots, had walked out of school with his bags and back turned towards the entrance. He knew he’d caused a stir, among students and public, but he didn’t care. Not his problem anymore, the Garrison could deal with the confusion he’d left behind.

He would’ve cared even less if it hadn’t been for something else he was leaving behind.

The skinny kid from Cuba was called Lance. He showed up one day with a goofy smile and a friendly demeanor, the kind that others would tear apart like sharks. Except he was strong, he brushed off the comments and insults with a grin and joke, and became the class clown instead. The one that you laughed with and were exasperated at, but you couldn’t hate him. It was so hard to hate him.

If only Keith could hate him. It’d make liking him so much easier.

But what does it mean? His pen is moving again, scratching drily across the paper. He’d need to get a new one soon, but until then he’d push this one to the limit. What does it mean to like, or even love? What does it mean to be able to feel warm with someone, have someone to take the cold away?

Love (v.) - an intense feeling of deep affection

Like (v.) - find agreeable, enjoyable, satisfactory

Just words in a dictionary, so easy to read and make sense of in the head.

But my heart still has questions, what does it feel to love? How do I know when I love? ‘Like’ is too simple, ‘Love’ is too strong…is it even love at all?

His next words are invisible, small curling grooves in the paper. His pen is out, and he sighs and aims it at the bin. It’s a solid shot, clattering around in the near-empty plastic interior for a bit, as Keith closes his notebook and tucks it back into one of his side packs. With a deep groan, he gets up, stretches, and sets to work picking up the balls of failed ideas and poems and tossing them where they belonged.

Why was he thinking about him, now, of all times? He didn’t care about Keith then, he certainly wasn’t caring about Keith now. He had friends, a life, and guaranteed place in the world. He didn’t even know Keith back at the Garrison, probably didn’t care about his existence at all. So why does Keith think about him so much?

Just a silly crush. Just a distraction. He’s gone now, and it’s for the best. That kid doesn’t care about him, why does he care so much?

There’s a place on Keith’s wall where the wood is beginning to splinter, and a dent is forming there. Sawdust, wood shavings, and small sticks have gathered in a small pile beneath it. Here, Keith punches it almost daily, ranging from as many as only one in passing to enough for the house to shake and the pipes to ease themselves a little looser, right above Keith’s bed. It results in bleeding knuckles, and eventually leads to a trip to the store for some gauze and a pair of fingerless gloves, the kind baseball players wear. The cause of that dent? The persistent, gnawing reminder of that kid from school, with his stupid charming smile ( God damn that smile ) his ridiculous jokes ( Screw those jokes ) and his laugh, his chiming, loud laugh that somehow rings as clear as day in Keith’s memory when he least needs it.

The laugh is mostly what results in the punching.

The sun was setting in the distance, when he straightens up and stares towards the horizon. It’s pretty today, sky touched all colors of bright tangerine to lilac and peach, fading away into a steadily deepening blue-to-indigo. All pastels and glitter, tonight, almost enough to make him feel like it was worth coming here.

This little hut in the middle of a desert was all Keith had left. He managed to buy it back off of some old man’s hands by selling his cadet uniform, cheap, to a grateful family for their son. It was hardly enough to afford this place, with it’s leaky plumbing and shoddy electricity, but the smiles of the small curly-haired boy and his teary mother made it all worth it, somehow. It springs back fuzzy memories, filled with purple and warm arms around his shoulders.

He didn’t remember Mom, of course. She’d left years before he could start remembering, but whatever his Dad remembered, he neglected to say. There aren’t any pictures of her in the house, nor any sign of any female having residence in this old shack at all, but she definitely had existed. Old whiskey driven tales had brought mentions of her, and occasionally he’ll find Dad passed out on the couch from a hard night shift, mumbling something that sound like a different language, over and over. A name?

It didn’t matter. Stomping back inside the house, nothing mattered anymore, as he turns to the bulletin board covered in pinned-up photographs of rock formations and strange glyphs, line graphs printed from the city library ten miles away. Scrabbled handwritten notes, red string webbing it all together like a spider on crack, an occasional red marker note and circle directing attention. To a stranger’s eye, it’s chaos. To Keith, it’s a masterpiece.

He’ll find Shiro. He’ll figure out what draws him to this trashy place, what keeps him from leaving no matter how many times he tries to go. Until then, nothing is important.

Not even a boy with a stupid laugh.

Love (v.)-to experience a deep sensation of appreciation and affection for a specific topic, object, person, etc.

Ex: She loves him because of his looks. I made garlic knots, does he love them? I love him because of his laugh.

[simply-nel]

Some doodles i did today! It’s older!paladins or something (around 10-15 years older maybe? Idk)

Now there’s a possibility you didn’t recognize Lance and you’re like “why the Fuck does he look like ThAt” so here are some details!

So like this is a kind of story I made while I was supposed to be productive. Idk the exact definition of AU so I’m not sure you can call it like that; I just call it the possessed chicken duck à l’orange

Lance is blind (*hot damn shouted in the distance*)

Most of the scars, like Pidge’s one (which is an explosion's scar) come from the event when Lance got blind

All the guys got a beard just because

Right before losing is eyesight, Lance lost his memory

Keith cut his mullet. He says it’s because it was getting annoying, but everyone has seen how Lance has an habit of petting his hair and making comments

Lance insists on having the greatest hairstyle of all, even if he can’t see it.

Without the greyscale, Hunk looks like Guy Fieri I s2g it's terrible

Those are dreadlocks btw, and he ties them in a bun

The two scars near Lance’s eyes were made by himself

I can’t draw Shiro for shit. I’m sorry Shiro :(

Ok Lance got fucki ng abducted. That’s the fucking plotwist. He basically got caught because that’s a secret but yeaah and then when he came back (how? Secret) he was amnesiac because secret. And THEN after at some point he became blind because of some REALLy twisted and fucked up stuff that I’m not going to tell you and there’s a lot of angst and hurt because that’s what I do baby and that’s why he looks slike a kicked puppy. I’m not telling everything because there’s a possibility I do a kind of webcomic about it? Idk but if you’re interested do tell me bc i won’t ever find the motivation if not AHAHAHdamnit

[ao3feed-klance]

KLangst Week May 2K17

read it on AO3 at http://ift.tt/2nxAmGo

by Ididntsignupforthisshit (Oliver_Ravenwood)

Words: 1325, Chapters: 1/8, Language: English

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)

read it on AO3 at http://ift.tt/2nxAmGo

[ao3feed-safeklance]

Goodbye For Now

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2naS3aF

by For Fucks Sake Shirogane (nupitrr)

Maybe it just isn't right

Words: 2185, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Klangst Week 2k17

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Major Character Death

Categories: M/M

Characters: Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Hunk (briefly)

Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), Mentioned Hunk/Lance

Additional Tags: Past Relationships, Unrequited Love, Confessions, Hurt No Comfort

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2naS3aF

[ao3feed-voltronlegendarydefender]

KLangst Week May 2K17

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2nxAmGo

by Ididntsignupforthisshit (Oliver_Ravenwood)

Words: 1325, Chapters: 1/8, Language: English

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron)

Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)

Additional Tags: Angst, Badly written angst, KLangst Week 2017, Unrequited Pinning, When you pine after your best bro

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2nxAmGo

[anothervldthingiemabibbie]

A Sixpence Song

Chapter 3: Ink

@klangst-week

Keith writes poems in a notebook, a hobby that he rarely partakes in. It’s strange imagining a brooding, dark-haired teen writing poems about flowers and feelings, but then again…

“I thought you could’ve been something great, but I guess you’re just a dropout.”

“It’s such a shame to see a young man throw his life away like that, without rational thought.”

“Oh what do you know, dropout?”

“You threw away your chance to be something good in this world, you know that? Threw it away on the hope for a dead man.”

“We can’t let him stay, he’s Galran! Who knows what he’ll do!”

“My family is gone because of his kind, my entire planet! All my people! I will not let one of them on my ship, as a Paladin!”

“We were supposed to be fighting Galrans. Isn’t that what we’ve been doing? What do we do now?”

Maybe it’s not difficult to imagine him doing that after all.

Keith’s personal hell is silence.

You wouldn’t think this from a boy who’d lived alone for a long time in the middle of nowhere, but there are many things that are unexpected about Keith.

But the desert isn’t nearly quite as empty as people would expect. There’s lizards that scuttle on the walls at night, distant barks and howls of wild dogs and coyotes on the wind. Owls hoot in the evening and raptors screech in the mornings. And on the rare days when even those are all silent, there’s the cheap shitty radio at the top of the metal drawer, tuned only to one of the few channels available to him.

It was country or static, so he took country.

But now, he didn’t even have the annoying twanging of guitars or gruff voices singing about beer, girls and trucks to comfort him. There’s nothing here but endless darkness and silence, a crushing quiet that sucks any hope out of him. There’s nothing for him here but him and his own head, and a million questions that he can’t answer, doesn’t want to answer, that tear and rip at the edges of his mind, like an itch that he can’t scratch.

Distractions come in the form of sinking into memories, good and bad, any one that is clear. He’s in his first flight class, riding the adrenaline high of piloting the shaking, bouncing flight simulator, stepping out with pride in his chest and one of the highest scores seen ever in the Garrison. He’s thirteen on his first bike, zooming down the street whooping to school, right before he hits a rock and skids nearly a yard on the pavement (there’s still a long, striped scar on his leg from that incident). He’s watching T.V, some documentary on Mothman, mumbling a goodbye as his dad leaves on an ‘errand’. The last time he’d ever see him again.

He bounces back to happier memories, though those are limited. Learning martial arts from Youtube videos and practicing his roundhouse kick in the dormitory alone, while everyone else was out to dinner. Feeling a sense of grim satisfaction in the next memory, when he knocked the front teeth out of that asshole kid who called him a ‘no good sonafabitch bastard fag’ and his bale gray shoes were stained red. A sensation of mild irritation when Iverson chewed him out for it, put him in detention where he was alone, save for the other kid.

The other kid, of course, was Lance. Sitting in the front corner by the door, tapping and doodling on the desk with his pencil. Keith sat on the opposite side, fidgeting awkwardly with the pen he’d ‘borrowed’ from Iverson’s desk earlier, taking it apart and putting it together again. Over and over, cap, spring, ink cartridge, nib, metal ring, outer case. Outer case, metal ring, nib, ink cartridge, spring, cap.

Tap, tap, tap. Goes Lance’s pencil. Keith glances up, and stares. No smile now, instead a rare look of patient serenity. No sign of anger, disappointment, sadness at his situation, but instead an aura of calm. If not for the slow blinks, long fluttering lashes that are the woman’s envy, he could be sleeping.

Snap. Keith had accidentally broke the ink cartridge while putting it back in, and now black ink gushed out over the desk, staining his hands, seeping into the cracks of the white linoleum floor. The teacher in charge, a tired, white matron with severe eyes and a hooked nose, glances up at the noise, sighs angrily, and motions towards the bottle of cleaner and paper towels by the window.

Lance snickers softly on the other end of the room, and Keith feels his neck flush with embarrassment and anger. Accompanied, for some reason, by a strain of pleasure.

For once, he made Lance laugh, not the other way around. And Lance didn’t even know him, earning a bittersweet victory.

As he mops up the chemical-smelling liquid up the floor, the tap-tap-tapping ensues, except now it’s not a simple monotonous pattern. It’s seemingly erratic, short clips there, pauses here, and occasionally he would still his hand and go completely still, as if listening, before continuing his tapping.

Morse. Keith realizes, and he nearly wants to laugh. He’s talking in Morse, probably to one of his friends by the door. And sure enough, when he looks up at the door, there’s that big dude Hunk, the kid that you couldn’t hate for the life of you and almost always had to accept hugs from-most of the time you didn’t have a choice anyway, the guy had arms like a bear. His hand raps out of sight, on the doorframe, a quiet muted series of thumps that took a keen ear to hear.

Keith watches as Lance listens intently, grins devilishly, and taps back a response. A laugh bubbles in his stomach; for a kid who was made of movement and was hardly still, here he was, able to learn Morse to talk to a friend through the door.

He starts wiping down the desk, scrubbing the ink off. In the few moments since it’s release, it was already sticky and hardening, and took a considerable amount of force to remove it. As he moves his hand in circular movements, he listens to the conversation.

Im so b-o-r-e-d Lance even took the time to add a second’s pause between letters, for emphasis. You had to admit, one had to admire the dedication to dramatic flair.

Cant do much for you there. Is Hunk’s faint reply. Movie night?

Uh hell yeah Jeez, he even took the time to communicate seemingly trivial thoughts. And for some reason, this makes him seem all the more likeable. He’s human, and he communicates this in stupid dorky ways. Pop the corn!

Hunk rolls his eyes. Hows detention

Eh not that bad just me here. He stops for a moment. Oh yeah me and keith

Hunk blinks in surprise. You mean top of class keith?

Only one keith i know dude Lance smirks. Man hes even more emo up close

I wouldnt say that fifteen feet away is close lance but whatever you say

Hunk seriously though hes so weird Keith’s blood seem to chill as he translates this. Like he just spilled ink everywhere and i think hes staring at me

All the teachers expect more out of him thatd turn me a little weird too tbh

Yeah but like hes so weird A brief moment of quiet where he contemplates for a choice of words, and during which Keith increases his attempts, lemony smell of the cleaner stinging his nose as he squeaks the towel against the table. Like what the hell is up with the haircut? And hes so quiet

Keith doesn’t catch Hunk’s response, but he does hear Lance’s, despite his attempts to drown it out. And he hardly talks to anyone. It’s like he has no friends

Pause for Hunk. Yeah but seriously hes sorta creepy Pause for Hunk. That wouldnt be surprising Pause for Hunk. He always one upping me and it pisses me off. Its bad enough that im barely scraping by but then here comes mr hotshot and suddenly hes teachers shining example. Its all keith this keith that and im sick of it. Everytime iverson says his name i want to barf

By now Keith was struggling not to shake. It was like being stabbed, except remembering a mishap he had a long time ago with a knife, stab wounds hurt less. When using a sharp enough knife, all you remember about it is that it's cold and everything's dizzy. Now, it felt like the air was a thousand times colder than a knife accident in the warm spring sunlight, and his head reeled violently. The desk, despite having been cleared away of ink several minutes ago, was still suffering Keith’s violent scrubbing.

“Keith. Keith Kogane!”

He blinks; the teacher is calling his name. “Yes?”

“You may go.” And with her final words, and he releases his hold on the world, watching it dissolve back into the eternal inky darkness. Lance, Hunk, and the teacher pay no mind as they vanish into specks of light that are quickly swallowed by the shadows.

Of all the memories he could have chosen to relive, it was that one. The one that haunts his dreams and tugs on his brain. But he needed it for the pain, the pain was what reminded him that he was still human, he was alive, he was real. He was still Keith Kogane, ingrate, dropout, excelled student, future fighter pilot, top of the class. Still Keith Kogane, Red Lion Paladin, tired sixteen year old, stupid teen with a crush on a boy, listened to country music. Still here. Still alive. Still real.

He chooses a nicer memory this time, one that’s soft and gentle. A lullaby he picked up somewhere, accompanied by soft guitar and warmth. His eyes are closed in this one, all fuzzy splotches of pink behind his eyelids, and he welcomes the feeling.

He doesn’t go back to the inky darkness for a long time.

[ao3feed-klance]

Goodbye For Now

read it on AO3 at http://ift.tt/2naS3aF

by For Fucks Sake Shirogane (nupitrr)

Maybe it just isn't right

Words: 2185, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Klangst Week 2k17

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Major Character Death

Categories: M/M

Characters: Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Hunk (briefly)

Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), Mentioned Hunk/Lance

Additional Tags: Past Relationships, Unrequited Love, Confessions, Hurt No Comfort

read it on AO3 at http://ift.tt/2naS3aF

[ao3feed-safeklance]

KLangst Week May 2K17

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2nxAmGo

by Ididntsignupforthisshit (Oliver_Ravenwood)

Words: 1325, Chapters: 1/8, Language: English

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2nxAmGo

[ao3feed-voltronlegendarydefender]

Goodbye For Now

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2naS3aF

by For Fucks Sake Shirogane (nupitrr)

Maybe it just isn't right

Words: 2185, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Klangst Week 2k17

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Major Character Death

Categories: M/M

Characters: Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Hunk (briefly)

Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), Mentioned Hunk/Lance

Additional Tags: Past Relationships, Unrequited Love, Confessions, Hurt No Comfort

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2naS3aF