#langst palooza

[fandomseverywhereassemble]

Less Than Human (Part 3)

[spicyredpaladin]

Transformed By You - A Langst Palooza Fanfiction

Rating: Teen and Up Pairings: Kolivance, Past Shance Tags: !!SELF HARM!! Tattoos, Friends to Lovers, Spiritual Transformation Words: 4584 AO3 Link

Summary: Lance was broken, scarred in mind, body, and soul. When he finally found the strength to continue, the strength to pull himself together and make a new beginning, he decided there was no better way than to cover his shame with a tattoo. Guided by a friend's recommendation, he found himself at Marmora Ink, beguiled by the barest smile of his artist and the gentle way his rough hands touched Lance's scars. Through their blossoming romance, Lance found himself blooming as well, until he was transformed into a warrior who no longer needed his past or his pain to feel whole. And if he got a sweet, loving boyfriend along the way, Lance wasn't complaining.

[yuki-setsu]

[New] Painful Nights, Sleepless Awakenings

hi hello please accept this while i meager up the strength to finish up my WIP;;; wrote this for an event called Langst Palooza (@langstpalooza), so take the chance to check out the other great works people will be putting out!!

there should be 4 chapters and i’ll be posting every friday until it’s complete ^^ (lord i hope the cut works i don’t want to clog people’s dashes T__T) 

it’ll also be updating on AO3 if you read on there! the full collection for the stories that’ll be part of this event can also be found here! 😃

Summary: A potential alliance gone wrong lands Lance at the receiving end of a curse that makes him experience unbearable pain whenever he tries to sleep. Unfortunately, trying to shrug it off and deal with it on his own might bring consequences that become too heavy to bear.

Forging alliances usually went smoothly.

It tended to be a simple affair: make contact with a peaceful planet with the intent of bringing them under the protection of Voltron, and then go for a face-to-face meeting once they got approval to land. Some took more persuading than others, having faced the horrific realities of Galra strikes and the Empire's suffocating influence. But most of the time, they came around and things were resolved amicably, sometimes even with a celebration.

Lance found the planet of Xa'Qar nice. Kind of dreary and too warm at first glance, but he thought the tranquil and steady ambience was comforting. It reminded him of days where he napped on the beach back on Earth, the sun soaking warm rays in his skin and the waves crashing in his ears.

He glanced around at the looming tree-like plants that seemed to span the entirety of the area the team was passing through. The Xa'Qans had agreed to meeting for a possible alliance, and Allura had landed the Castle in the one open patch of land they could find closest to the small village the species resided in. The planet was like a big, warm jungle. Except all of the trees were as tall as redwood, and weird yellow ginkgo-looking leaves covered every inch of what would usually be bark.

“These things look like huge, fluffy French Fries,” Lance said, reaching out a hand to gingerly touch the leaves of another tree they passed.

“They are called Zensag.” The Xa'Qan replied. A guide had been waiting for the team at the landing point, calmly greeting them before guiding them down a path towards their civilization. “They grow even without direct care from us, but they provide much to our people. Their leaves are used with other ingredients for effective remedies, their wood helps us create our homes, and they bear fruit that can feed many.”

“They look incredible.” Allura chimed in politely, earning a small nod from the guide.

Lance hummed, lightly bumping shoulders with Hunk once in a while as they walked side-by-side down the path. Shiro, Keith, and Pidge were walking just ahead, but they trekked on silently, too exhausted for small talk. There had been an Galra raid in the middle of the night on a planet not too far from Xa'Qar and two other separate emergencies throughout the day before they'd finally come here in the evening for the alliance talk, leaving most of them running on—at most—5 hours of sleep. No one was really in the mood to expend any more unnecessary energy.

“We are here,” the guide announced, stopping in front of a large arch, a clear division between the end of the forest and the beginning of the Xa'Qan's home. The houses, needless to say, were... yellow. Turns out the wood of the Zensag were as bright as its leaves.

For some reason, the guide chose to wait until they all navigated to the small hut in the heart of the city to announce that the leader preferred to have small company during negotiations, resulting in just Allura and Shiro heading inside to talk. The rest of them were told that they could “explore the village as they wished”, but the guide hesitated for a moment before adding, “we advise that you disregard anything the witch doctor says should she approach you.” They ducked inside the hut before anyone could fully process the statement.

Lance had no idea what they meant, and quite frankly, the words sounded a bit worrying despite the calm and brief manner in which the warning was delivered. How were they supposed to even know who the witch doctor was, anyways? He doubted this planet held the same stereotypical interpretation of what a witch was imagined to look like back on Earth, with her green skin, pointed hat, and smoking cauldron. He leaned over to voice the question to the team, but found that everyone else had already dispersed. Pidge and Hunk were busy fawning over a snack offering of what looked like warm biscuits brought over by a young Xa'Qan, and Keith had opted to linger and keep watch near the leader's hut, so Lance headed over towards a pair of Xa'Qans that were quietly watching under the shade of another home.

“How are you?” He started brightly, keeping what he felt was an appropriate distance for a first encounter. “The name's Lance, also known as the incredible Blue Paladin of Voltron. But the pleasure's mine.”

The pair seemed to neither accept or reject his introduction, simply staring at him with their hazel eyes. All of them seemed to have the same eyes, he realized—piercing but accented against the dark brown of their skin. The only thing that distinguished them—asides from their outfits—were their ears, which looked like the equivalent of large, floppy dog ears that drooped down to brush against the top of their shoulders. The color of their ears seemed to differ with each Xa'Qan, even similar shades having a slightly different hue.

The extended silence had Lance shifting uncomfortably. “Uh, sorry. Was that rude?”

One of the Xa'Qans finally responded with a slight shake of their head, donning a small grin as their gray ears jostled with the movement. “It was not. We have just not met an outsider who acts as... familiarly as you.”

“Oh.” Lance smiled again, the tension in his shoulders receding. “Well, when it comes to making conversation, you can say I'm the best Paladin for the job. Love the planet, by the way. Very, uh, yellow and warm.”

The green-eared Xa'Qan straightened slightly, perking up at his words. “We take very good care of it, and it us. We let the trees grow and prosper throughout the days, and we work in the nights to harvest and collect wood.”

Lance tilted his head. “Wow, busy workers. When do you all sleep, then?”

It was the gray-eared Xa'Qan's turn to puff up their chest, a smug look on their face. “We do not need sleep to function. We are always awake.”

Lance blinked, not sure if he heard right. “You...don't sleep? At all?” His eyes widened at their nods, a smile growing on his own face. “You don't feel tired ever? That's insane! In a good way, I mean!”

“The most exhaustion we will feel is from overwork, but that is easily overcome by sitting for a short time and eating to regain energy.” The green-eared Xa'Qan was speaking animatedly, her eyes shining. “After so many tries, we can finally use every dobash possible to commit ourselves to prospering as a village.”

The question was already lodged in Lance's throat, and he couldn't stop himself from asking. “Wait, 'so many tries'? Does that mean your species wasn't born not needing sleep?”

The conversation reached a lull, neither of the Xa'Qan's scrambling to speak this time. They exchanged a quick glance before the gray-eared one cleared their throat. “You could say it was an...improvement. Our village gained the ability through the mixture of an herbal concoction and some...witchcraft.” Their face grew dark at the last word, and Lance had the nagging sense not to press further on the subject.

But before he could even find a topic to switch to, another voice rang out from the side, low and ragged. “Not witchcraft, but magic.” He glanced over to see a small hooded figure standing a good few feet away, their form hunched and obscuring their appearance completely. “Good magic, bad magic, stolen magic.”

One of the Xa'Qan let out a noise of disgust, and Lance looked to see them already inching away from the newcomer. They met Lance's gaze, giving him a curt nod before turning in the opposite direction. “We will be leaving now. Be well, Blue Paladin.” They left almost too quickly, heading towards the middle of the village where Hunk and the others still were.

Lance stared at their retreating figures, a bit dumbfounded before he blinked and turned back around to see if the figure was still there. They were, and even though their head was ducked, Lance felt like their eyes were trained solely on him. It was an uncomfortable sensation that crawled up his spine like spiders.

“Blue Paladin,” the figure croaked, as if they hadn't spoken properly in ages. “Blue. You are indeed blue. Come a little closer.”

He took a step forward reflexively before freezing, a bit of uncertainty tickling his chest. “Uh, are you... Are you the witch doctor?”

“I am no witch.” The form hissed, practically bristling under the large robe. “I am a doctor, yet they call me a witch. Even though they live this way due to me.”

'Disregard anything the witch doctor says should she approach you', the guide had said.

Lance shifted his weight from side to side, not knowing how to exactly approach the situation. After a few seconds, he opted to smile, trying to look as friendly as he could. “Okay, doctor it is. I'm guessing you mean you were the one who helped them achieve this 'no sleep needed' thing?”

For a moment, the figure didn't respond. But then she straightened up, letting her hood fall back to reveal an aged face lined with wrinkles and black ears. Even with that appearance, Lance had a feeling that she was even older than she seemed. But what unsettled him the most was her expression. It was angry, haunted, bitter—a stark contrast from the peaceful and quiet vibe the other Xa'Qan's gave off.

“Yes. My biggest accomplishment, my biggest mistake.” She growled, creeping closer. Lance fought down the urge to back away, although he was ready to bolt for it if things got out of hand. “Do not trust this village. They took everything from me for themselves.” She was right in front of him now, her height just barely reaching up to his chest.

“Lance, whatcha doing over there?” Hunk's voice drifted in before he draped an arm over Lance's shoulders, happily oblivious. “Look, you gotta try this Zensag bread. I swear it tastes like oatmeal cookies.” His voice tapered off for a second, realizing Lance hadn't been alone. “Oh. Hello.”

Lance took the bread from Hunk's hand, choosing to save it for later. “Thanks, buddy. This is, uh, the village doctor? Hey, did you know that they don't—”

“What do you seek on this planet?” The Xa'Qan cut in, voice low.

The question threw both Lance and Hunk for a loop. Lance couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a trick question, or if she genuinely had no idea why they were here.

Hunk recovered first, a confused noise at the back of his throat. “Um, Voltron's alliance with this planet, I guess? I mean, the Princess and our leader are still in talks with your leader, but yeah.”

The witch-doctor's eyes flashed, an almost deadly look creeping across her face. “You wish to ally with this village? They will only take. Never give. Bad beings. If you negotiate with them, you are no better than they.”

Lance straightened up slightly, suddenly glad Hunk was there with him as support. “Look, I don't know what you have against the village, but Voltron just wants to provide protection for the planet should it ever come under threat by the Galra.” He could feel Hunk's hand still on his shoulder, the slight anxiety dancing off his fingertips. “We fight the bad guys, defend the universe, all that jazz.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, and her face twisted into one of raw anger. “You wish to protect them? Then you are even worse.” Her hand whipped out, reaching for Lance's wrist. “You will regret saying such vile words.”

Her fingers had barely brushed the top of his armor, and it should have been impossible for him to feel the fleeting contact at all. But he felt it, a slight twinge sparking across the area like a burst of static electricity, as if she'd touched his bare skin. It wasn't painful, but Lance jerked his arm back in surprise. Hunk jumped at the movement, already stepping backwards as he used his arm to drag Lance with him.

“Uh, I think I hear our teammates calling us.” Hunk laughed nervously, voice high. “We'll be leaving now.”

The witch-doctor said nothing as Hunk led Lance away, although the boiled anger in her gaze already spoke plenty. Lance finally forced himself to turn around, swallowing down the mild panic that had been rushing up his throat as they reached the front of the leader's hut again. Keith was still propped against the yellow home, arms crossed and a bored expression on his face. He raised an eyebrow when the two approached, but he said nothing as Hunk came to a stop, letting out a large sigh.

“That was... kinda creepy.”

Lance nodded, the spot on his armor that the Xa'Qan had touched feeling...oddly exposed, even though his armor was still fully covering what it should. He couldn't understand why she'd been so angry, but suddenly, this planet started feeling a bit more unpleasant than peaceful.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye before someone snatched at the bread that had still been lying in Lance's hand. He glanced over to catch Pidge shoving the last few bits into her mouth, a triumphant grin on her face.

“You snooze, you lose. Should've eaten it when you had the chance.” She sing-sang. Her smile faltered slightly when she caught Lance's expression. “Did something happen?”

A door opened before he could reply, and all eyes landed on Allura and Shiro as they made their way back out of the hut. Allura was smiling, but the strain in it was poorly hidden. Shiro hadn't even bothered, looking more than a bit disgruntled as he followed behind her. No Xa'Qan accompanied them out.

“Paladins,” Allura started, her voice excessively upbeat. “Let us head back to the Castle. We will debrief once we've taken off.”

From the looks of it, the talks clearly didn't go well. Everyone followed along silently, and Lance took a chance to see if the witch-doctor was still there as they headed back towards the forest. She wasn't.

By the time everyone had filed into the Castle, Allura had stopped looking cordial, a scowl on her face as she set the ship for a course back up into space. They were gathered on the bridge, standing awkwardly with Coran as they waited for a sort of explanation, one Shiro clearly wasn't tripping over himself to offer.

“So...” Hunk said slowly. “The alliance...?”

“Is not happening.” Allura answered flatly. “Our ideals and methods simply did not align, so it was bound to not reach fruition.” She turned around at the heavy silence, an apologetic smile on her face. “Do not be too down. Our goal is still the same. We will continue to expand Voltron's protection with planets that seek our help. We are not guaranteed to be accepted by all of them.”

“The Princess is right,” Coran piped up brightly. “We've all had a long day, I think we all deserve a good rest for now. Good work today, Paladins.”

The team mumbled in acknowledgment before they all headed towards the kitchen for some food. They'd been so busy that they'd barely eaten all day. But somehow, Lance somehow didn't feel that hungry. His mind kept flashing back to that witch-doctor, so resentful and overflowing with anger. His wrist tickled again, but he ignored it.

That night, Lance woke up to the worst pain he'd ever experienced in his life. It was like knives scraping at the insides of his body, the pain radiating throughout so violently it jolted him out of the slow tendrils of sleep in an instant. He pushed himself upright, practically tearing both the eye mask and headphones off and tossing them to the side in his panic. What was hell?

His head felt like it was threatening to split open any second, not helping the almost burning sensation that was dragging across the rest of his body. But as soon as it started, it seemed to ebb away, like a slow and receding tide. He doubted it at first, thinking that the pain was just so great it was numbing out his senses, but no, it was definitely going away. It didn't take more than 30 seconds before Lance was sitting in the dark with nothing but a cold sweat and slight shudders that ran down his skin with each heavy breath. His throat felt raw. Had he screamed? He couldn't remember.

Blue was fuzzy in his mind, her concern washing over him. He glanced down, placing a shaky hand against his chest where the pain had felt the greatest. Then checked under his shirt to make certain that he didn't actually have some sort of injury. There was nothing, and Lance was starting to think he just had some sort of crazily realistic nightmare. That had to be it—there was no other explanation.

His heart rate was still well above the norm by the time he'd retrieved his eye mask and Pidge's headphones (they hadn't broken, thankfully—Pidge would've killed him), and he opted for a few breathing exercises before he let himself lie back down.

The second time around, he woke up to the same excruciating pain almost immediately, and this time he didn't even have the energy to sit up and recover his senses. He pressed his face against the pillow, screaming into it as his hands gripped at the fabric so tightly it might have torn. But the same thing was happening. The moment his mind began to jolt awake and reorient itself, the pain was already beginning to fizzle out like a dying flame. Only when it seemed to have completely disappeared did he finally release his death grip on the pillow, rolling onto his side. The headphone pressed uncomfortably against his ear, and he took them off a bit more gently this time, placing them next to him as he removed the eye mask and blinked blearily at his darkened room.

Something was wrong. He had no idea what was going on. Was he sick? He felt fine now, though. Shaken up, but fine. He pushed himself upright again, pressing his hands gingerly against his stomach. Felt it rise with each unsteady breath he took. Why did he feel so normal now? All he could remember was waking up both times to—

He blinked. Now that he thought about it, the pain left nearly as soon as he woke up. As if it only seemed to trigger once he fell asleep. A shudder passed through his body, settling into an uneasy weight in his chest. That almost sounded like a curse...

An image of the witch-doctor flashed through his mind for a quick second, but he swallowed down the sudden panic. No, he was overthinking this. It sounded crazy. It was crazy. Even still, his stomach lurched at the idea of trying to go to sleep again, of having to relive that sort of rude awakening a third time.

He didn't sleep that night, sitting against the wall of his bed as he thought about blue oceans and orange sunsets.

                                                        (Hour 28)

All-nighters never came easy for Lance. Sleep was important—vital—both for healthy skin and a healthy mind. If given the chance, Lance avoided all-nighters like the plague. Usually, it never came to that extreme, and he always managed a few hours of sleep in between late night Galra attacks and distress calls from nearby planets. But as morning crept around, Lance wondered how Pidge managed all of her sleepless nights. His body felt particularly heavy as he slumped against the wall, wishing he could sink into his bed and be wrapped into a warm cocoon. It was so tempting, the idea of curling back under the blankets and drifting off, even though it was the completely wrong time to do so.

Lance sighed, pushing himself onto his feet as he rubbed at his eyes. The room's lights felt brighter than usual—he'd turned them on halfway through the night to keep himself awake—and he trudged to the bathroom with heavy steps.

What was wrong with him? He had no idea, and he had no idea how to explain to anyone if he tried to bring it up. He hurt whenever he tried to fall asleep? He didn't know how to describe it if anyone asked; the sensation felt too visceral in a way that words seemed to fall short of portraying it accurately. Maybe it was just a psychological thing. But how does he fix something like that?

He figured it might wear off. He hoped, at least. Then maybe later through the day, he'd be able to nap without any of his current worries. It sounded optimistic, almost too optimistic, but Lance was desperate for anything that would help him get through the day. Hopefully they wouldn't have to do anything that required a lot of concentration—he could barely focus on one thing at a time.

After he'd gotten ready and headed down for breakfast, he wasn't surprised to see he was the last one to arrive. The others were already seated, in various stages of finishing their bowl while they shared idle chatter amongst themselves. Hunk was the first to catch his eye when he walked in, his smile slipping into something more concerned by the time Lance got close enough to slide into the seat next to him.

“Dude...” Hunk started hesitantly. “You look kinda...”

“Terrible?” Lance supplied, eyes shut as he slumped against the chair. “Worse for wear? Like a dried up plant?”

There was a small clatter, and Lance peeked an eye open to see Hunk grabbing a bowl that Shiro passed over the table before placing it in front of his seat. “Yeah, basically,” Hunk said, a slight grin on his face. “Trouble sleeping last night?”

The question brought back the current reality of his situation back with startling clarity, jerking Lance out of his drowsiness. He straightened up, grumbling as he reached for the bowl of space goo. “Don't get me started. I didn't sleep at all.”

Across the table, Pidge made a slight noise, almost surprised. “You pulled an all-nighter? That's new.” She'd already finished her bowl, one hand propping her head up as she stared at him lazily. One look was enough for him to tell that she didn't get much sleep, either. Although that was probably out of poor life choices, not whatever he was dealing with. “What were you doing up?”

Lance picked at his bowl, his appetite failing to rouse him enough to eat. He could hardly remember last night, his memory a blur of bright lights and hazy thoughts. It was exhausting just to try and recall the past few hours, so he gave up, opting to focus on the weird texture of the food in his bowl as he mixed the spoon around. It was gross, but it kept him awake.

“Uh, hello?” Hunk's voice suddenly cut in, and Lance startled at the hand waving in front of his eyes. “Earth to Lance? Don't tell me you fell asleep.”

Lance blinked, looking up to see the rest of the table had quieted down, all staring at him after Hunk's question. He felt the heat rising to his face, shaking his head as he sat up, the spoon all but abandoned in his bowl. “I didn't, I was just... thinking. I probably just had trouble sleeping because I wasn't feeling that great last night.”

Hunk's brow furrowed, eyes scanning even more closely. “Maybe you're sick?” He raised a hand towards Lance's forehead. “Do you have a fever?”

Lance batted the hand away, clicking his tongue. “I'm fine. No fever. Not sick. Nada. Don't mind me.”

“We will be training around one varga after we finish eating and preparing,” Allura said, watching him carefully. “Are you sure you will be alright?”

Just the thought of having to train had his body groan with exhaustion, but Lance forced himself to nod, a tight smile on his face. “Don't worry, Princess. Nothing I can't handle. Appreciate the concern, though.”

He was glad no one pressed much further, although Lance grew acutely aware of the subtle glances people threw his way, as if they were expecting him to fall asleep in his food. Not a far off possibility, but Lance wasn't going to let that happen. The last thing he needed was to wake up screaming in the middle of breakfast and freak everyone out. So Lance ignored the fatigue pressing at the back of his eyes, shoveling down a few spoonfuls of food at Hunk's insistence.

He'd deal with it after training.