#shulaz

[ryan-draws-fanart]

100 FOLLOWERS!!!

Woah! Thanks everyone! After shifting reporting all the bots I realized I reached 100 followers when I wasn’t paying attention. Which I think is pretty good for a semi-inactive blog of rare pairs of a dead fandom. 

Anyways, have more uliro! 

[blackat-t7t]

I love that I can read a fic about a large purple alien cat man, who is part of a rebellion against a terrible space empire, getting pregnant by his human lover,

Then move to an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT FANDOM,

And read a fic about another, totally different large purple alien cat man, who is part of a rebellion against a terrible space empire, getting pregnant by his human lover.

[ryan-masamune-of-oshu]

Pairing: Ulaz/Shiro but there’s also a lot of Shendak Rating: Explicit  Summary:  Sendak has called for a stop to the war. The Paladins accept his invitation to negotiate but weren't expecting to find Shiro at Sendak's feet as a slave. Keith will do anything to get him back, but Allura warns him to be cautious of Sendak's mind games. The more he tries to help, the further Shiro slips from their grasp. Ulaz is doing his best to run interference, but the humans are getting in the way of the plans he has to save Shiro.

[champagnepickle]

there's something about us i've got to do some kind of secret i will share with you

[everylastbird]

Since voltron is STILL trending, I feel like I should take this opportunity to say that Shiro/Ulaz should have happened! That intro episode for Ulaz could have been the perfect start to an actual developed relationship between a lead canonically gay male character and a hot alien spy and I'm SO BITTER my greatest dream for Shiro (aka hot alien bf) was stolen from me :(

[another-voltron-blog]

Must confess I'm a big fan of both Shulaz (or Uliro????) And Shendak, and I can't decide which one I prefer most... I guess they'll have to fight for the "otp's right" *shrugs*

[spazzcat]

If still taking ships, how about Uliro?

Sure am! Uliro’s a bittersweet ship and I adore it. 

who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter - Shiro as the battered, wounded werewolf constantly on the run, and Ulaz as the hunter who seeks him out not to kill, but to heal

who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman - Mermaid Ulaz utterly fascinated by this strange, scarred human fishing from a cape in the middle of nowhere

who’s the witch and who’s the familiar - Witch Shiro with familiar Ulaz who, while helpful, also greatly enjoys distracting him and being a nuisance

who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict - Barista Shiro who works the night shift at a coffee shop and always has a pot ready when the exhausted doctor needs a shot of caffeine to make it home safely after working a double

who’s the professor and who’s the TA - Professor Ulaz and his TA who just happens to be the young man whose life he saved just before switching from professional medicine to teaching it

who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss) - Prince Ulaz with his handsome bodyguard knight who worked his way up through the ranks of a classist society

who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent - Single parent Shiro who just really, really needs a shoulder to lean on and a sympathetic ear and finds it in his recently-orphaned nephew’s new teacher

who’s the writer and who’s the editor - Shiro as the actual disaster writer whose books shouldn’t be nearly as popular as they are given how terrible his spelling is according to Ulaz

Send me a ship and I’ll tell you which is which give you an AU concept!

[the-awkward-orca]

Wow okay, is there anyone out there still into vld? How about uliro?

For those who don't know, uliro is the ship of Shiro and Ulaz. I made a discord server for it, yeah, in 2020, I figured I might as well.

Any and all are welcome, if you've seen vld, if you haven't, if you're a long time fan of uliro or just finding out about it. Feel free to join!

https://discord.gg/ftaaHrJUdd

This link is not set to expire at any time.

[blueboltkatana]

I somehow managed to find One character that is taller than Shiro to ship him with good job me

[ryan-draws-fanart]

Show and Tell

Another first time scenario. Ulaz and Shiro showing each other what they got! 

[white-shade-of-pale]

sketch commission i finished today

[ryan-masamune-of-oshu]

Pairing: Ulaz/Shiro Rating: Teen+ Summary: Kolivan and Antok catch Ulaz and Shiro in the hallway. They're not doing what they think they are.

[champagnepickle]

i'm gonna drive you through the night down the hills

full image over on my twitter (same handle). not sure if tumblr still allows direct links so...

[demenior]

Babel Update

Part 2/2 of the ‘There’s Only One Bed, I Guess We Have To Share’ saga, aka “The Snuggles”

Shiro and Ulaz have been circling each other for a while now. They know each other is interested. Shiro’s afraid he won’t be good enough, Ulaz asks him just to try. Now Shiro’s waiting for Ulaz to make the first move. 

Click here to read

[curiosity-killed]

masks

@aurumdalseni​ I’m so sorry for how long this took, but I had to talk myself out of making it a full-fledged long fic D:

send me a ship and a number and I’ll write a short fic

34. meeting at a masquerade ball au

Word Count: 3296

Swans and swallows and hawks twirl past, their wings made of skirts and tailcoats rather than feathers. A few of the most eccentric guests have entire nests woven into their hair, tiny little eggs perched gem-like among the branches. "We'll call it 'Flights of Fancy,'" Lance had declared, sprawled on his back on the chaise. "People will love it." Shiro had raised a dubious eyebrow at the time, but now, it seemed Lance's judgment had proven keen. The guests fill the hall to bursting, a flock of fine absurdity. Underneath his own mask, he itches with discomfort. Despite the extravagance of so many other masks, it's hard not to feel ridiculous with half a crow's wing across his face. "Relax," Allura chides. "You look dashing."

There's a teasing lilt to her tone that makes him roll his eyes. He'd elbow her for that, but they're not in the field right now, and they ought to pretend at propriety. For the princess to be lingering with her royal guard instead of dancing is already enough to have some older nobles' noses twitching.

"That's easy for you to say when you look regal even in chainmail," he retorts. She laughs and preens, just a little. The dress she's wearing is a startling white that nearly matches the starshine color of her hair and makes her dark skin that much more radiant. It sweeps down in featherlike ripples that make him think equally of a swan as of a white-capped ocean. Allura has always worn beauty and ferocity equally well. "Go dance with someone," he grumbles good-naturedly. "The courtiers are starting to make a line." It wasn't wholly untrue: half a dozen young nobles were trying their best to hover unobtrusively in the hopes that they might get to ask the princess for a dance before the others. "Fine. But you have to at least dance once tonight," she says, "or I'll insist on pole-arm practice at dawn." She can't see his expression under the mask, but he still turns an unimpressed look her way. Of the two of them, he's far more likely to be up at sunrise anyway. More often than not, he knocks at her chamber doors to rouse her for morning drills. Now, she rolls her eyes and waves off his unspoken objection. "At least one dance!" she calls over her shoulder as she finally turns to the waiting partners. “One dance,” he mutters, turning back to the room at large. It shouldn’t feel so daunting. Once upon a time, back before the war, he would have spent the whole night dancing. He’s always had restless feet, a restless heart, ill-suited to sitting idle. Movement has been his most constant state, and what better way to move than to music, among friends? Now, though, his skin starts crawling when his back faces the doors, and partners shy away from the metal of his hand. It will be good for him. Probably. One isn’t so overwhelming, after all, even if it takes a few rejections first. Failure stings less with familiarity. Someone has said that before – or something like it, anyway. “Are you looking for someone in particular?” The low voice, too close, makes him whip around, hand reaching for a sword that isn’t at his hip. It’s laid out on his dresser in his rooms because arms are forbidden at balls and social functions. Because this is court, not a battlefield, and it isn’t some enemy soldier who’s snuck up on him but a tall, trim man who’s now stepped back with his hands raised. Great job, Takashi. Scaring the man off before he even had a choice in the matter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man says, and Shiro’s mouth closes, his own apology aborted. “I didn’t think about the noise covering my steps.” “No, that’s alright,” Shiro says. “I was caught up in my thoughts.” The man cants his head as if in understanding. “To answer your question, though, no, I’m not looking for anyone in particular,” Shiro continues. He doesn’t explain the rest, that he was trying to decide who would be most likely to dance with him and not ask too many questions or read too much into it. The thought alone makes heat crawl up the back of his neck. “Well, that is a relief,” the man admits. Shiro tilts his head in question, and the man obliges. “I was hoping to ask you for a dance.” There’s a beat of silence as they look at each other, until finally, it sinks in and Shiro realizes he’s actually asking. “Oh! Yes, thank you,” he says. “Would you prefer to lead or follow?” the man asks, one slender hand extended. “I’m fine with either,” Shiro says, settling his hand in the man’s upturned palm, “but I can follow this time.” The room is filled to bursting, and the only spot they can find is along the side, near enough they have to stay close on turns or risk hitting the wall. Up close like this, Shiro is surprised at how small he feels next to the man. He’s always been on the tall end of average, but now, the man has to curve a little to meet his gaze. His mask is of a strange bird: purple and white feathers fan over his face in a pattern Shiro doesn’t recognize. “It’s a medicine bird,” the man explains. “My friend’s idea of a joke.” “You’re a doctor, then?” Shiro asks. The man leads him in a turn so that their arms meet at the wrist as they promenade. Around the room, all the couples are in the same posture. “I am,” affirms the man. “I was a field medic, but I’ve been more inclined to research recently.” A field medic here in the princess’s court? Even with the open doors of Allura’s court, he must have friends of some high rank. “And what brings a doctor to a masquerade?” Shiro asks. “Business,” the man says, and his tone makes Shiro suppress a smile of commiseration. “My commander and I have a meeting with the princess in the morning.” Behind his mask, Shiro raises his eyebrows. As captain of the princess’ guard, he knows her daily schedule and the meetings she has planned. “You’re Galra, then,” he says. The man pauses, halfway through bringing Shiro back into closed position. They are one of the only points of stillness in the sea of dancers. “I am,” he says, “but I swear we are on Altea’s side and not that of the emperor.” Shiro nods with a little hum of assent. Adrenaline still thrums under his skin at the proximity of the Galra, half-obfuscated memories screaming for him to fight or flee. He suppresses them with familiar ease, and not only because this isn’t the proper place for a scene. The man can’t know it, but Shiro was the one to convince Allura to meet with the Galra in the first place. He feels suddenly like some accidental spy, roped by circumstance into new reconnaissance. “And how are you finding Altea so far?” he asks. “A delight,” the man answers. “It is a beautiful country and the people quite welcoming. I wish I could spend longer here; there’s so much we won’t be able to see.” Shiro smiles, pleased by the sincerity of the assessment. Though he isn’t from Altea originally, it’s become his home over the past several years. He takes pride in others’ wonder at it. “How long are you staying?” he asks. The song is nearly over, but Shiro isn’t quite ready to let go. He’s intrigued by this Galran doctor-cum-scientist, by his honest words and sure hands. The man pauses to glance at the musicians before turning to Shiro. There’s a little hesitation before he speaks. “Would you care for one dance more? Since the last was only half the song,” he suggests. “It’s only fair,” Shiro answers. The man relaxes under Shiro’s hand, and a little smile curls up his lips. They pause while the band changes to the new song. “We’re staying for a week,” he answers in the lull. “Oh, then you have plenty of time to see the city at least,” Shiro says. “Even the woods around it, perhaps. The natural wonders here are nearly magical.” “Nearly?” asks the man as they begin again, dubious. Shiro laughs as he’s spun around himself. So he’s heard the stories. “Well, maybe more than ‘nearly’,” he admits. “Still, it’s beautiful, and safe as long as you have a guide.” The man breathes out a laugh and settles his hand back on Shiro’s hip. Heat seeps from his broad palm and through Shiro’s tabard, but it’s settling, grounding. The weight of his hand keeps Shiro close without being confining. “Then I’ll have to find a guide,” the man says. His voice is gentle and a little amused. It rumbles through his chest in a way that Shiro can almost feel. “And you?” the man asks. “You don’t have the accent of an Altean.” “No,” Shiro admits, “I’m from Terra – a small country to the north.” Most people at court hadn’t heard of it except through the paladins, and there were those in the Alliance who grumbled about all the paladins coming from such a small, primitive nation. He could understand the frustration but didn’t let it bother him much. They had no say over who the lions chose and if, someday, Black chose a new paladin, he would not object. Well, not too much. There was some room for fallibility with semi-sentient legendary weapons. “I’ve heard of it,” the man says. “How did you come to the court, then?” “Business,” Shiro replies, a little teasing. It earns him a small smile, and he shakes his head. “No, it was more luck than anything else. My party and I befriended an Altean party on the road, and the rest is history.” It’s broadly true, even if he’s omitting key details such as the Altean party being the lost princess and her spymaster and the friendship being born of a mutual need for support against a Galra attack. If the man had paid any attention to the recent history of Altea, and to be at court he must, then too many details would be a dead giveaway for Shiro’s identity. As much as he doesn’t feel inclined to lie to the man, he’s enjoying this brief foray in anonymity. “Some would call that fate,” the man remarks. Fate – or a very stubborn pride of lions. Shiro gives a small smile and lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “Some would call all paths fate,” he says. “I like to think we have a little say in it.” He’s always hated the idea of destiny, that some omnipotent force determines every facet of their lives. There’s too much cruelty in the world, too much hate and pain, for him to believe that it’s the way it’s meant to be. If only for the sake of his own belief in their cause, he needs to believe that they can change it. “I’ve never been a believer in destiny myself,” the man admits. Shiro straightens, a little surprised and pleased by the answer. Even without being able to see his face, the man seems to pick up on the shift in his attention. “It has always seemed…complacent,” the man continues. “As if the world is meant to be this way just because it has been this way.” There’s a vehemence to his voice that’s barely contained, a passion not often seen in the artifice of court. “It sounds like this isn’t the first time you’ve considered this,” Shiro remarks, gently teasing. The man’s sure steps stutter a little, as if abashed. His amber eyes widen, framed by the purple feathers of his mask. “I – well, I suppose I have given it some thought,” he admits. He sounds a little embarrassed, as if he hadn’t realized how sure his earlier words had sounded. Shiro smiles, amused and a little endeared despite himself. “Maybe you should add ‘philosopher’ to doctor and researcher,” he says. And rebel. The Galra had been vague when describing themselves, only saying they were a society dedicating to resisting Zarkon’s rule. They’d refused to give a name or any example of how, exactly, they resisted, and Allura had been sure it was a trap. Shiro had argued in their favor based only on a gut feeling, wishful thinking more than hard evidence. After speaking with this man, Shiro’s more sure of that choice. He speaks like someone who truly believes in their cause. More than that, he’s surprised by how much he wants to find out more., wants to know the man without masks or the court between them. It’s been a long time since he felt such an immediate magnetism to someone – not since Adam, before Kerberos was even a dream. “Perhaps when I’ve retired,” the man concedes. “Maybe by then there will be some university vacancy.” “Sounds a little more comfortable than being a field medic,” Shiro remarks. The man laughs, low and rumbling, and doesn’t refute it. A little pleased with himself, Shiro suppresses a smile. The musicians begin their denouement, too soon by far. It isn’t really proper to stay with the man all night, and Shiro hates to trap him. For his part, the man seems equally loath to separate. “I guess I should let you go,” the man says. The last note sounds, but their hands remain together. “I don’t want to keep you,” Shiro says, reluctantly. The man gives a little smile and polite nod. “Then, thank you for the dances,” he says. “It has been a great pleasure.” “The pleasure is mine,” Shiro answers. “Perhaps we’ll run into each other while you’re still in Altea – without the masks.” He says it in a moment of rare bravery and is rewarded by a genuine smile from the man. “That would be a true pleasure,” he answers. The rest of the masquerade passes rapidly, and though Shiro finds himself with more partners than he expects, he only sees the man once more. He’s standing with another man, shorter but broader, and bent so as to hear the other above the noise of the crowd. He catches Shiro’s eye and, though it’s difficult to see from this distance, Shiro thinks he spies a small smile. Shiro has to suppress his own as he turns back to his new partner. After that brief moment, he doesn’t see the man again. A feeling of contentment and loss unfolds in his chest, bittersweet like the last petals of a rare and beautiful flower. He goes to bed with the consoling thought that at least he has pleasant memories of a lovely night. In the morning, he wakes with the sun and starts his exercises and routine. The first hours of the day are always his alone, with the rest of the palace yet asleep. He walks along the parapets and pauses to stretch under the young sun. After his patrol and breakfast and a meeting with some of the guard, he heads up to accompany Allura to her next meeting. She’s currently in the tallest of the towers, and the view through the windows becomes more incredible with each floor he passes. The great forest around the palace fills nearly his whole view, a sea of green. Birds flit through the ancient trees, bright flashes of color in the dappled light. The doors to this room are an ivory wood carved with an intricate depiction of the legend of the white lion, and careful lines of blue paint accentuate the quintessence around the deity. He raises his hand and knocks out his standard rhythm – one long, two quick, two steady – and waits only a moment before Allura calls for him to enter. He pushes open the doors with ease and settles in parade rest just inside. They’ll be leaving shortly, or Allura wouldn’t have had him join them. “I look forward to speaking with you further over the week, Kolivan,” Allura is saying. “It seems your Blades could offer significant aid to the Alliance’s efforts.” Kolivan nods, his square face set in a stern expression. There are lines on his face as if from frequent scowling, and the rust-red tattoo across his forehead is disconcertingly near the color of blood. A closer look, though, shows little smile lines by his eyes, too, and Shiro’s impression improves. The other man is tall and slender, with just as serious an expression though his face is unlined by wrinkles. He holds himself with the kind of composed stillness of a dancer or soldier – someone used to making intentional choices with their movement and energy. Broad shoulders taper into a strong waist. If it were to come to a fight, Shiro’s not sure he and Allura could take them easily. “May it be a worthy endeavor to find our common ground,” Kolivan says. Allura gives a slight nod before turning to include Shiro in their group. Kolivan and the other man follow the gesture as if they’ve finally been given permission to acknowledge him. “This is Takashi Shirogane, the Black Paladin of Voltron,” Allura says. Shiro nods in greeting. Were they some other royal or noble, he’d be expected to bow, but right now, he’s Allura’s show of force. In diplomatic negotiations like these, it isn’t proper for the princess to bring out her armor and staff, but even a reminder of Voltron provides a certain kind of force to her arguments.   “It is an honor, Paladin,” Kolivan greets. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” Shiro says, even if he isn’t meeting them in any real sense. In his periphery, the other man straightens just enough to make the back of Shiro’s neck prickle. He hasn’t heard anyone come up behind him nor any indication of an intrusion. Black would let him know if there something had happened elsewhere in the castle – surely. The man’s new attentiveness doesn’t lead to immediate action, though. Instead, he simply seems to watch Shiro a little more closely, his weight more forward on the balls of his feet as if in anticipation. "You'll have to pardon me - I have another meeting to attend - but we are headed in the same direction," Allura says.

It's a good sign. If the meeting had gone poorly, she would've had a guard escort them while she took a back route to her next meeting. They fall in together with Kolivan and Allura in front and Shiro in step with the other man. Allura and Kolivan pick up some earlier conversation almost immediately, and Shiro has to hide a smile. A successful meeting indeed. "I did not realize I danced with such a decorated partner," the man says, and Shiro freezes. He stops short and turns to the man to find a little, hopeful smile curling up his lips. Shiro's eyes widen before he laughs, delighted. The man's expression eases into a full smile. Now that his face isn't hidden by a mask, Shiro can see the way his smile lights his whole face, turns into gentle crinkles at the corners of his eyes. It's like the lighting of a candle, a gentle illumination. "We did say we wanted to meet without masks," Shiro laughs. “Yes, though I didn’t hope it would be so soon,” the man affirms, still smiling. He extends his hand. “My name is Ulaz.” Shiro accepts it, his own nearly small in Ulaz’s broad palm in long fingers. “Shiro,” he says, unnecessarily. He pauses, struck by an idea. “You know, you were looking for a guide for the forest. I might just know of one.” Ulaz’s smile curves up at the invitation, and Shiro feels something like hope unfold in his chest. There might be something here worth investigating after all.

[xukies]

"Outside of the meeting room stood a single Galra, eagerly awaiting the former Paladin. Shiro recognized him immediately, despite new scars scattered along his face and arms. His hair was longer than when Shiro had seen him last. It gathered into a ponytail that trailed between the firm set of his shoulders, his eyes tired yet welcoming at the sight of Shiro."

Gift for @lysanatt for @vldexchange