#smooth keith

[autisticlancemcclain]

The air in his apartment is getting staler, and his scalp is starting to ache.

Everything is going to fail, he thinks to himself, unhelpfully. He doesn’t have time to correct himself because he has time for nothing. He barely has time to breathe. People will be coming in less that two hours, and he’s only just begun decorating; at this rate people will arrive and everything will look barren and horrible and boring and of course no one will say it to his face but he can hear how muttered conversations will go on the way home, how everyone will think he’s —

The front doorknob rattles. Lance gasps, a great, heaving breath forcing its way in and out of his lungs, realizing for the first time his hands are trembling too much to hang the tinsel correctly.

“Lance?” calls a voice, familiar and soft and raspy from years of cigarette smoke. “You in the kitchen?”

Lance finds himself frozen in place. His mind has gone completely blank, and he’s become a statue; thoughtless, still, unblinking, unable to process. As if someone has hooked him up to a remote and pressed pause.

Quiet sounds of boots unlacing echo the empty apartment, followed by socked footsteps. Keith appears round the bend of the front hallway, eyebrows knit together in concern, lips pursed.

“…Lance.”

“Everything is falling apart,” Lance blurts. He twitches suddenly, stiff muscles spasming, and the sudden movement rocks the rickety footstool under him. Quick hands flit out to grip his arms before he falls, steadying him on the ground with a soft, “Woah, dude.”

For several moments the only sound is the synched billowing of their breathing. Keith’s hands slide down his biceps to rest on his elbows, squeezing gently. Slowly, dragging through molasses, Lance’s heart begins to slow.

“You’re freaking out,” Keith says. “There is no need to freak out. Take a breather.”

“I don’t have time for any of this,” Lance says, heartbeat picking up again. “I barely finished the last of the food fifteen minutes ago, decorations aren’t out yet, there’s flour all over my clothes and my face is a mess and I haven’t washed my hair —”

Darting out faster than Lance can track, Keith’s hands come to rest on Lance’s cheeks, thumbs brushing under his eyes — rough, warm, startling. Lance stares at him with wide eyes. Keith smiles back, quickly, widely, crookedly; breathtaking. His hair is twisted back neatly, thick and gorgeous, and festive red sparkles line his eyes. Pretty red stones glitter in his ears to match. The gold bands of his thumb rings are cool against Lance’s cheeks, and the chain he got from his mother rests delicately over black knit fabric. The high-cut neckline of his sweater compliments his frame nicely. His jeans are the only pair he has without rips — a pair Lance forced him to get last time they were shopping together.

The air punches right out of Lance’s lungs, and the last of his worries with it. Keith tucks a curl behind his ear, lingering.

“Go shower and get dressed,” he urges, indigo eyes dark and imploring. “Let me help.”

“Okay,” Lance breathes. He doesn’t move.

Keith smiles. He pulls Lance’s face down at the same time that he stands up on his tiptoes, eyes fluttering shut. Their lips press together softly, one, two, three, and then he pulls away.

Lance makes a noise in the back of his throat. His fingers come up to brush the swell of his lip. “What was that for?”

Keith’s eyes flick up at the doorway. Amusement dances across his expression.

Mistletoe, green and white and fragrant, hangs delicately from the door frame.

“Oh,” says Lance, flushing. He remembers, abruptly, the stepladder and falling into Keith’s arms. He becomes hyperaware of the bareness of the rest of the apartment, hardly lived in one month.

“Lance,” Keith says again, noticing the shift in his expression. He slides a hand down and pats his hip. “Go, you walking mess of anxiety. I got this. Get fixed up. Everything will be fine.”

Lance closes his eyes, exhaling shakily, and nods. It’s too late, now. Whether or not things get finished is irrelevant — he can’t very well host a Christmas party in sweatpants and his grossest, most threadbare hoodie. Whatever Keith can manage while he showers will have to be enough.

He rushes off to his room, tearing off his clothes the second the door locks behind him, practically throwing himself under the stream without bothering to wait for it to heat. He rushes through his routine faster than he maybe ever has in his life, toweling off so roughly the first two layers of his skin go with it, and buzzing around his closet like a horde of wasps on a field of decaying grapes.

There is Nothing to wear. Because of course there isn’t. The outfit he’d picked last night suddenly seems inadequate, and most of his other stuff is still boxed up, so he doesn’t even have the time to go digging. Eventually he just throws on what he’d planned and tells himself to get over it.

Forty-five minutes have passed, by the time he steps out of his bedroom, and the state of his apartment makes him gasp.

String lights are hung delicately along the walls and wrapped around his small tree. Ornaments and decorations sit artistically on every surface, as if each placement was deliberated and perfected. Paper snowflakes, even, that Lance had made in a fit of procrastination to avoid work weeks ago, are hung from the ceiling. Keith stands on the same footstool Lance tumbled from earlier, hanging a few more.

“Keith,” Lance chokes out. “Oh my God.”

His friend shoots him a grin. “What, surprised? I told you I’d handle it. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” Lance swallows as the words come out on reflex, heavier than he’d ever usually let them. “I just.” He looks pointedly away from where Keith stretches his arms above him, thin paper held delicately between his thick fingers, sweater raising to show a strip of pale skin. “I appreciate it, is all. Turns out you do have some taste, Mullet.”

“Asshole,” Keith huffs.

But he’s smiling.

They spend the next twenty minutes in comfortable silence, putting up the last of the decorations and plating up the last of the food. Lance doesn’t need to say, I should have asked for help from the beginning. Doesn’t need to say, I’ve missed being close to everyone, being a real adult is hard, finally finishing school and growing into a new phase of adulthood, away from all the people I’ve grown up with, is hard. I had to prove I’m handling it. Doesn’t bother admitting, I couldn’t have done it on my own. Thank you for knowing me enough to come even if I couldn’t ask.

Keith brushes his hand on the small of his back as he walks by. Lance smiles, shy and pleased, and sinks into the comfort of Keith knowing, of Keith knowing him; of the proof of their familiarity despite all the new changes. He sighs, long and silent and heavy, something settling in his bones.

When the doorbell rings, and the rest of his friends start pouring in, he’s ready for them.

———

Hours later his giggly and red-cheeked and a little bit tipsy. Pidge brought bottles of liquor and Allura brought novelty shot glasses, and the rest of that story wrote itself. Lance lost count somewhere between Hunk slicing up the honeyed ham he brought and Shiro busting out the Twister. Cheesy Christmas songs have been looping for hours on Veronica’s CD player, and the air smells of plátanos a sweet-smelling incense Adam pulled out, and Lance is drunk on more than just the booze.

“The place looks great!” shouts Shiro, not particularly because it’s loud in here. He looks pretty red-cheeked, too, glass of wine tucked protectively to his chest. Adam watched him in amusement, arms half-raised in preparation for his clumsiness.

“Keith helped,” Lance admits, just as loud. Their shouted conversation draws teasing glances from the rest of their friends, but for once Lance isn’t self-conscious of the stares on him.

They’re drunk. It’s Christmas. Who cares?

“Speaking of, where is Keith?”

Lance frowns. He blinks some of the dizziness out of his eyes — he truly needs to stop walking around, there was way more rum in that daiquiri than he thought, typical Matt — and scans the crowd of people shoved into his tiny apartment. He would recognize that mullet anywhere and from any angle, and it is not currently among the masses.

“Hm,” he says out loud, and wobbles off.

The first place he checks is his bedroom. It’s locked, but he knows Keith can pick a lock and also has no qualms about picking the lock for Lance’s bedroom, because he was raised by wolves. He’s not in there, though, so Lance pivots to checking the bathroom — occupied by Kinkade and Rizavi who are busy sucking face — and the weird little linen closet tucked in a random alcove, which is empty. Keith is, strangely, nowhere to be found, but he couldn’t’ve just — left, right? He would have said goodbye.

Lance pouts. He hopes he would have, because Lance’s emotions are Compromised right now, okay, and if he gets sad he’s going to get sad for real. And Keith leaving just like that will, indeed, make him sad as shit.

“I need t’clear my head,” he mumbles to himself. He pushes through the tight circle Allura, Pidge, and Veronica have formed — he does not want to know, it might be actual witchcraft knowing them — to make his way to Hunk, tugging on his sleeve to pull his attention away from Shay.

“‘M gonna go get air.”

“Don’t die,” Hunks says. Lance nods, moving to stumble away, but Hunk grabs his sleeve and tugs him back. “No, wait, drink this, buddy. Else you’re going to walk into a wall and we’re going to end up in the ER on Christmas again.”

Lance dutifully chugs the three separate glasses of water Hunk hands him, realizing suddenly that he’s parched. By the end of them and also a banana Hunk has him eat, his head has miraculously stopped spinning.

“Hunk,” he says in total seriousness, “I love you. Deeply. From the bottom of my soul.”

Hunk rolls his eyes fondly and presses a kiss to the top of Lance’s head. “I know, you doofus. Begone.”

Lance snickers and heeds his command. As he closes the apartment door behind him, shutting out the noise with it, he breathes a huge sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how overwhelmed he’d been getting, as much as he’d been having fun.

He understands, immediately, where Keith has gone. He huffs a smile.

“Goober,” he says around a smile, and jogs to the stairwell.

———

A sobering seven flights later, he pushes open the door to the roof, panting breaths turning to steam in the frosty air.

“You are elusive, you fucker.”

Keith looks over his shoulder, smiling in that quick way he does. “And you’re tipsy.”

“Nuh uh! Hunk made me drink water!”

“Right, and that undoes the six shots you took when Pidge dared you.”

“Obviously.”

Keith laughs, a little, and Lance preens like he’s won the whole lottery. Keith most definitely notices. Lance can’t bring himself to care.

“C’mon, let’s sit somewhere not so close to the edge. Knowing your shit luck you’ll go careening over the edge and I’ll have to jump after your dumb ass.”

Ignoring how that makes his heart pound, Lance shoots back, “That wouldn’t solve anything, stupid, we’d just both be dead.”

“A very Merry Christmas to us both, then.”

Keith finally finds a spot on the ground that’s mostly clear of snow and only a little wet. He plops himself down. Lance grimaces, looking down at his expensive and shimmery black slacks before sitting down beside him.

“You good?” Lance asks after a moment.

Keith lets out a breath. “Yeah, it was just getting to be a lot in there.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re basically a cat in human form. Surprised you didn’t bite anyone on your way out.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

Keith looks over, eyebrows raised. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“That was very transparent, you know.”

Lance shrugs, not bothering to hide his own smile.

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me. Not my fault I’m thinking about it.”

“You think I kissed you to shut you up?”

“A little.”

Keith holds his gaze, challenging. Lance crosses his eyes. Keith snorts, punching him in the shoulder.

Heh. Success.

“I didn’t kiss you to shut you up, you goober. I kissed you because I wanted to.”

“…Did you maybe want to again?”

Now it’s Keith’s turn for his smile to turn shy, for a slight flush to rise on his cheeks. Lance’s own cheeks hurt from grinning.

“No mistletoe up here. Not sure I have an excuse this time.”

“Aha, but that’s where you’re wrong.” Lance digs in his pockets until he finds the little sprig, plucked from when he and Hunk were caught under the doorway sometime after shot number five. He holds it up between them.

Keith’s smile grows. “You really are a genuine actual goober.”

“You seem to like it,” Lance says cheekily.

“It’s fine, I guess. If I had to live with it.”

“Mhm.” Keith’s hand has snaked its way around Lance’s neck. Lance’s own hands are planted firmly on the ground between them, keeping him balanced as he leans closer, closer, closer. “Is that the case.”

“Yeah,” Keith breathes, and then he doesn’t bother with anything else, closing the distance between them. “Merry Christmas.”

Lance sighs into his mouth, tilting his head as their mouths move, as Keith’s long eyelashes tickle his cheek. Merry Christmas, indeed.

———

based on this art by @mothmanavenue

[ruenii]

Keith: Do you like sleeping?

Lance: I do

Keith: Wow me too.

Keith:

Keith: We should try it together sometime.

[danny-devito-jesus-offical]

Keith: *drops something* Oh, fuck me

Lance, without thinking: I'm trying

Keith: what

Lance: what

Keith:

Lance:

Keith: You should try harder *walks away*

Lance: *dies*

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

Elfman 🤝 Pantherlily

Big ass guys with the cutest lil pixie names

[soadscrawl]

mods r asleep post total drama voltron au

[scribbsyscribs]

Please tell me someone has already brought up the idea of Husk singing Tennessee Whiskey to Angel.

[kaibacorpstocksplit]

Super Yugioh Rarepair Week Day 3: Muscleshipping (Rishid Ishtar x Bandit Keith)

[elitehoe]

BK is honestly such a fantastic choice for Kyle's first match back

[waugh-bao]

Keith discusses his relationship with his guitars (1995)

[littlexdeaths]

i called her on the phone and she touched herself - e.m.

ghostface eddie munson x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: voyerism, mutual masturbation, phone sex, eddie’s a perv but we’re into it, alluding to a knife kink, lots of scream references

i ended up taking a look at this fic today and making some little tweaks and i love it so much more now. this is another repost from my old account but i promise new content will be coming soon. enjoy xx.

word count: 1.5k

The phone rings, loud and shrill in your ear.

It sound causes you to flinch in surprise, heart thudding in your chest when you reach for the receiver. The cheesy horror movie playing on your small tv set now forgotten as you pick up the phone.

“Hello?” Your voice sounds a little breathless, a deep chuckle resounding in your ear.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

The voice on the other end was husky, smooth yet confident.

“Who is this?” You feign a bored tone, your thighs squeezing together unintentionally.

You’d never been so attracted to someone’s voice before— and he’d only spoken two words to you. But something about it felt oddly… familiar.

“Were you expecting a call from someone?” The male asks and you shift slightly to glance at your bedside clock. 8:43 PM.

Steve would still be working at the video store, or he was supposed to be. Unless he decided to prank call you during a lull in customers. Which could very well be a possibility.

“Maybe… why do you wanna know?” Your tone is overly flirty as you decide to play along.

The call now much more exciting than the movie playing out on your tv screen.

You’d never take a suggestion from Keith ever again.

“Hm, a pretty girl like you must be waiting on a call from a boyfriend?”

You can’t help but laugh at that notion, serious relationships weren’t your thing. Despite how attractive and persistent Steve was, a relationship is the last thing you wanted to tangle yourself in right now.

But he clearly was still trying too hard.

You breathe out a heavy sigh, “Nope, no boyfriend.”

Despite being a usually observant person, you still weren’t aware of the eyes trained on your half naked figure. The dark cloaked figure watching from the tree that faced your bedroom window.

“Mm, lucky me then.”

You glance back at the screen when the music begins to swell, hinting that one of the teenagers would be killed off at any moment. A loud scream fills the room as the killer takes one of the camp counselor by surprise.

“What’s that sound?” He asks, unable to see the television from his vantage point.

“Oh, just a movie.”

The male hums deeply, the sound causes you to squirm against your bedsheets. Heat pools in your lower belly and you mindlessly let your fingertips dance along the edge of your lace panties.

“What kind of movie?” He probes, his dark eyes now drawn to the silky skin of your thighs.

You begin shifting, lying back fully against your pillows. You rest the receiver between your ear and shoulder as you spread your legs open. Unintentionally giving him the perfect view as you dip your fingers past the flimsy material. The sight causes his cock to stir beneath his dark jeans.

“A scary one,” you reply, despite this being the least scary thing you’ve ever seen.

Eddie grins beneath the white ghostface mask, sheathing his blade before he reaches for the zipper on his pants. He tugs them down to free his hardened cock, pulling his mouth away from the phone to spit into the palm of his hand. The male wrapping it around his thick length whilst your fingers begin to circle over your clit.

While the brunette had come here with the intention to scare you… this turn of events was far more interesting.

“Oh, you like scary movies?”

He grins, enjoying how your voice seems to shake over the line, but not for the reason he initially expected.

“Y-Yes…”

Only pleasure laces your tone.

Eddie inhales deeply, watching as you twirl your fingers around the phone cord with your other hand. The light of the television illuminates your body with an almost ethereal like glow.

“Hmm, tell me… what’s your favorite scary movie, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, now shoving your soaked underwear completely down your thighs. You kick them off the edge of your bed before dipping a finger inside yourself. You chew on your lower lip to hold back a moan you so desperately wanted to let escape, eagerly slipping another digit inside.

This wasn’t the first time you’d touched yourself like this with Steve on the other end of the phone, but this was by far the most exciting.

Little did you know the male on the other end was definitely not Steve Harrington.

Dropping the twisted cord you grip the receiver in your unoccupied hand, eyes fluttering shut when you begin pumping your fingers even deeper inside yourself. Letting your thumb brush over your swollen clit as you curl your fingers up.

“Halloween,” you breathe, a low grunt sounds on the other end of the line as the male strokes his cock in tandem with each thrust of your fingers. The slick sounds reverberate softly through the receiver.

“Is that the one with the guy in the white mask who walks around stalking babysitters?” He asks, despite already knowing the answer himself.

A soft ‘mhm’ leaves you as you revel in his throaty moans.

“I liked that one… it was scary.” His voice drops an octave, Eddie unintentionally slipping into his dungeon master voice.

Keeping the cell phone tucked into his shoulder as he adjusts himself between the tree branches. Increasing the pace of his fist as he continues to watch you pleasure yourself through your window.

The movie playing out on your tv screen is now long forgotten as his deep voice is the only thing you can focus on.

“I like that thing you’re doing with your voice, Steve. It’s sexy.” You whimper, already feeling yourself teetering on the edge of bliss. No longer able to keep up the oblivious act anymore.

Eddie chuckles darkly, sending a shiver up your spine. “Oh sweetheart, this isn’t Steve.”

As much as those words should frighten you, it only seems to increase the tightening in your lower belly. The jealous edge to them causes a high pitched whine to leave your lips, pumping your fingers even faster into your dripping heat. Increasing the pressure on your clit, as the male’s deep moans fill your ears.

“God you little slut, you gonna cum f’me?” He growls, feeling his own orgasm drawing near.

His cock twitches in his rough palm as he observes your lower half lifting up off the mattress. Thighs trembling as your orgasm washes over you, milky white spilling over onto his ringed fingers.

Heavy breathing is all that is passed back and forth between the two of you for a moment, your body falling limp against the mattress.

“Fuck, you look so pretty when you cum, baby…” while it was whispered into the phone, you still heard it.

You recognized the husky voice instantly— the pretty but rugged metalhead who always gave you a discount on your weed.

Eddie Munson.

Your eyes instantly snap open, dropping the phone as you sit up. Letting your fingers slip from your drenched core as you rise to your feet. Padding over to your bedroom window and gazing out into the dark night.

You catch sight of a white ghostface mask in between the branches opposite your window. Your eyes meet as you reach back over for the phone, your juices smearing over the handle as you grab onto it. Amusement dances over your features as you tilt your head at him.

“Do you spy on all the girls you deal to, Munson?” You pause, clearly catching the male off guard, “Or am I a special case?”

Eddie doubles back, stuttering out a reply while he attempts to disguise his voice once more but it was too late— you caught him.

“I promise this isn’t what it seems, sweetheart.”

A small giggle leaves your lips as he fumbles his way down from the tree, removing the mask so he can see properly. His bangs stick to his forehead, pale skin flushed pink under the bright moonlight.

He drops the phone and his knife in his haste, the glint of the blade catches your attention. The way the sharp metal reflects in the light makes your heart race, arousal coursing through your veins. You lick your lips when he picks up the discarded items, his brown eyes meeting yours through the glass.

“I think I know why you came here, Munson…” you hum into the receiver once he returns the phone to his ear, your sultry tone causing his cock to stir in his jeans again.

“Why’s that, sweet thing?” He bites back, his dark eyes not leaving your silhouette.

“Someone wants to play psycho killer… but it looks like you need a helpless victim.”

You lean your forearms on your windowsill, noticing the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows down a moan. His ringed fingers grip tightly onto the handle of the blade, the male now desperately hanging onto your every word.

“And I’m more than happy to oblige.”

Eddie curses, your words going straight to his now throbbing cock. There was no way he was passing you up on this offer.

“Now… tell me Mr. Ghostface, what do you want?” You feign a frightened tone as you pose the question.

His shallow breaths mingle with the static on the line, anticipation bubbling up inside you.

“I wanna know what your insides feel like.” He groans, his words sending heat straight between your legs.

You squirm when you watch him slide the mask down over his face, glancing back up at you with an almost predatory look.

“Come and find out then, freak.”

Click.

[danny-devito-jesus-offical]

Lance: hey, are you dating anyone?

Keith: are you kidding? My love life is a mess

Lance: ...I'm a mess, can i be your love life?

Keith:

Keith: Shit that was smooth

[theredbladepaladin]

Keith hadn't expected the tone shift. He thought Lance was just gonna tease him about the mark, but the guy actually seemed genuinely curious about it.

"...I'd tell you, but I'm not sure if h---they--!" Shit. He already fucked up with the pronoun slip-up. "--if they want anyone else knowing right now."

Keith bristling wasn't new either, they butted heads constantly -- mostly Lance's fault, he knew -- but the question had him actually huffing out a response of "Well, 'cause I --" A blink as he paused, cutting off. "I..." A frustrated huff left him, words failing to come to him, and a light flush spread on his face as he folded his arms. "I wanna know, alright? Is that so much to ask?"

[cool-and-grizzled]

Lance throws his keys into the bowl in the entryway as he steps inside, and shucks off his shoes, in his usual messy way that Keith will complain about later.

"Babe, I'm home!" He calls out as he shrugs off his coat.

There's no answer as he walks to the kitchen to put away the groceries, and he can't even hear Keith puttering around upstairs either. That's unusual, he's usually home by the time Lance gets back from his last class, especially when he does a quick grocery run after he's finished.

"Keith?" He asks, walking into the living room to look for him.

He smiles when he spots his boyfriend passed out on the couch, his right hand hanging off the edge, fingers buried in Kosmo's fur, who's snoring like a tractor engine at the foot of the couch. Keith's face is smushed against the pillows, his bun messy at the top of his head, the shorter strands that escaped from it hanging into his eyes and snaking down his neck.

He looks so much younger like this, with the frown lines on his forehead smoothed out in his sleep. Lance sits down on the arm of the couch, and just watches him.

It's a rare sight, Keith sleeping, to him -- usually Keith is the one to fall asleep later and wake up first. He can take in the calm expression on his face, the crinkles in the corner of his eye from all the smiling still visible. His smiles are less rare, nowadays, but no less radiant and it still has the same devastating effect on Lance as it did when they were younger.

He gently brushes away the strand of hair that fell into his eye, careful not to wake him. As much as he used to tease Keith about his hair, he grow fond of the long haired look on him, loves running his hands through the silky locks, washing it for Keith because he knows no matter how much he'd harped on him about it, Keith wouldn't take proper care of it -- at least like this, it works in both of their favors, but mostly Lance's. He loves playing with it as they cuddle on the couch, watching a show or a movie on the TV during lazy nights in. Loves burying his fingers in it as he kisses Keith, as Keith takes him apart from the inside out.

He traces the purple mark on his cheek with a featherlight touch, a reminder both of his heritage and the fight with the clone of Shiro. He used to catch Keith staring at it with a frown, touching it with hesitant hands, his eyes sad. Lance did his best to soothe the pain of the memory associated with it, tracing and kissing it with all his affection.

He gets up from the arm of the couch, and steps away to pull a blanket over him, letting him sleep a little longer. His last mission has been exhausting, and even after two days back home the purple bags under his eyes barely lessened. He leans down to press a kiss to the small mole at his hairline, and he ruffles the fur between Kosmo's ears before walking back to the kitchen to put away the groceries.

Not even five minutes later, as he's putting the things into the cupboard over the counter, he hears the shuffling of socked feet on the kitchen tiles. Before he knows it, he's swallowed from the back by a blanket, Keith's arms trapping his against his torso. He feels Keith bury his face in his back, leaning his weight against Lance. A Keith still half asleep is a clingy Keith, and Lance will enjoy every moment of it.

"Hi there, sleepyhead."

"You're late," Keith mumbles into his shirt, his hold tightening on him.

Lance chuckles, and turns around to face his boyfriend. "I had to get some groceries."

"Fuck the groceries."

"You wouldn't have had enough of that sugary abomination you call breakfast for tomorrow if I hadn't gone."

Keith frowns at him. "Okay, first of all, strawberry pop tarts aren't abominations. Second, I could've eaten something else."

"And you would've been grumpy all morning because you didn't get your sugar shock first thing in the morning," Lance says, pressing a quick kiss on the tip of Keith's nose.

Keith scrunches his nose, as he always does when Lance does this, and he's so cute like this, Lance can't help but kiss him properly.

[bluemantics]

Keith has calloused palms, hardened eyes, and a permanent line between his brows. His scars are physical reminders of all the pain he has suffered. His mental scars linger at night when he can’t fall asleep and in the morning when he jumps out of bed, ready for anything.

Lance loves his calloused palms— they fit in his hands. He smooths Keith’s brows and his smiles linger behind those hardened eyes. Every scar he traces reverently, leaving a kiss. He softly rubs Keith’s back to help him sleep and provides warmth that creates slow, lazy mornings.

The point: Lance sees Keith, pain and all, and gifts him the gentleness he’s missed out on his whole life. He is overwhelmingly in love.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Welcome to Beast's Party

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

In a guest room at the castle, an unusual mix of princes and one official were holding a meeting.

Clavis: "I want to throw a party to thank Emma for always working so hard."

Clavis: "The reason I called you all here is to invite you to help me plan that party."

Keith: "I think it's a great idea! I'm in—let's get started right away!"

Sariel: "I didn't expect such a reasonable suggestion from you. I'm in as well."

Kagari: "If we're throwing a party, we can't forget a mountain of dorayaki. It's a tradition in Kogyoku."

Keith: "Kagari, you know you shouldn't lie, right?"

Clavis: "Thank you, everyone, for expressing your agreement in your own unique ways."

Clavis: "But a plain, ordinary party wouldn't be any fun, so I've come up with the perfect entertainment."

Keith: "Can I take it back and think it over?"

Sariel: "This discussion is over."

Kagari: "I've never been on the performing side before, so let's hear it."

Clavis: "Thanks again for your three very unique responses. Now, back to the topic at hand."

Clavis: "We'll write a romance story together and perform it as a play!"

Clavis: "If anyone refuses, the party will consist solely of weird-colored dishes, and traps will be set up throughout the castle."

Keith: "You really moved straight into the threats there, Clavis."

Sariel: "I can sense a long history of rejected ideas behind this."

Kagari: "Is it because the princess likes reading romance stories?"

Clavis: "Exactly. Both writing the story and performing it are all for Emma."

Clavis: "This is probably a billion times more sensible than my usual proposals."

Sariel: "Not something to brag about, but you're not wrong."

Sariel: "Prince Keith, Prince Kagari, what do you think?"

Keith: "I was a little wary at first, but after hearing the plan, I think it's brilliant."

Kagari: "I'm in too. I've never done this before, but leave it to me. So, what kind of story will it be?"

Kagari: "How about a tale of a dorayaki seller and a samurai? A bloody feud between red bean paste lovers and smooth bean paste lovers."

Sariel: "I'd love to hear how that turns into a romance."

Clavis: "Unique, but a bit too niche."

Clavis: "How about this: A prince is turned into a clay figurine by an evil witch. He goes on a journey and falls in love with a woman he meets. Then, when they share a true love's kiss, she also turns into a clay figurine, and they live happily ever after."

Keith: "Everyone defines happiness differently, but wouldn't this just make Emma cry?"

Sariel: "Rejected. That ending is straight-up horror."

Kagari: "I think it's interesting, though—a love story between clay figurines."

Keith: "They're human! Don't let him mislead you!"

Clavis: "It seems the world isn't ready for it yet. I'll save it for my next life."

Clavis: "Keith, let's hear what kind of story you'd come up with."

Keith: "Alright."

Keith: "How about this: A fairy falls in love with a prince, makes a deal with a witch to trade her voice for a human form, and sets off to confess her feelings."

Keith: "But halfway through, her true identity as a fairy is discovered. She makes another deal with the witch—this time giving up her ears to turn back time to before she was discovered."

Sariel: "This fairy is taking on way too much loss. I'd be seriously worried she's the kind who easily falls for scams."

Kagari: "Keith, are you into tragic love stories?"

Keith: "Not usually, but maybe this time I am."

Clavis: "That one would make Emma cry, too. Next—Sariel."

Sariel: "A prince and a princess from enemy nations fall in love, but are torn apart by war only to be reunited in their next life. How's that?"

Clavis: "Bittersweet, but it ends on a happy note. Annoyingly enough, it's not bad."

Kagari: "Clavis, we're supposed to act out the play ourselves, right?"

Clavis: "Of course. I told you—we'll write a romance story and perform it as a play with this group."

Kagari: "So four guys are going to throw their whole bodies into acting out a love story?"

Clavis: "…………."

Keith: "……………"

Sariel: "………….."

Keith: "This is starting to sound like a punishment game—for both the actors and the audience."

Sariel: "Even imagining it makes my stomach churn."

Clavis: "I can already picture the forced smile on Emma's face. No, this might actually damage my mental state."

Kagari: "In that case, why don't we use that for the play instead?"

Moments later...

Clavis: "Puppets. That's a great idea—this way, even with just four of us, we can still put on a romance play."

Sariel: "Still, how did you manage to prepare such intricate puppets in less than a day?"

Kagari: "I made them."

Sariel: "You made them? I must say, I'm impressed by your craftsmanship."

Kagari: "Feel free to keep the praise coming."

Kagari: "This actually takes me back. When I was a kid, I used to make these for fun."

Keith: "Whoa, they move so delicately—like they're actually alive. I could watch this forever."

Kagari: "Seriously, don't hold back on the praise."

Kagari: "Clavis, do you have the script ready?"

Clavis: "Of course. I pieced it together from all the story ideas you suggested."

Keith: "Wait, seriously? That was fast."

Clavis: "I used to write stories for my younger brothers. This was nothing."

Keith: "I used to read stories to my little sister, but I was never good at writing them. You're amazing, Clavis."

Sariel: "Oh? The roles are already assigned, too. How efficient."

Clavis: "Everyone got your puppets? Then let's begin the rehearsal!"

[The Rehearsal Begins]

Cast:

A noble lady on the brink of ruin – Kagari

A pleasure-loving prince – Clavis

The prince's trusted retainer – Sariel

The noble lady's personal butler – Keith

Prince: "It's been a long journey. I'm finally about to see the legendary treasure with my own eyes. Just you wait!" Prince: "Huh? I sense someone nearby. Who's there?" Noblewoman: "Oh my, what a handsome gentleman. Is this love at first sight? May I ask your name?" Loyal Butler: "Milady, this is the 101st time you've fallen in love at first sight. Please show some restraint." Prince: "What perfect timing. Could this meeting have been fate?" Prince: "Do you know of the legendary treasure—the winged clay figurine? I came here to obtain it." Noblewoman: "It's in our barn." Prince: "I love you. Let's get married right now." Noblewoman: "Yes! I've finally escaped ruin!" Prince's Retainer: "Prince! I've found you!" Prince: "Oops, I've been found. I thought I had sneaked out of the castle unnoticed." Prince's Retainer: "Enough! A wicked prince like you must DIE!!" Prince: "Ugh…"

Keith: "Okay, maybe let's pause for a second."

Kagari: "The prince just got stabbed by his retainer."

Keith: "There's way too much going on right from the start. My brain can't keep up. What did we just watch?"

Sariel: "This is suspense disguised as a love story. Emma's going to cry."

Clavis: "Because of your terrifyingly convincing performance."

Sariel: "It was strange from the get-go. It felt like the prince was written specifically for you, Prince Clavis."

Clavis: "Because he was."

Clavis: "Kagari's completely flat delivery really highlighted the contrast with the prince's energy. Well done."

Kagari: "My performance was top-tier. Leave the noble lady role to me."

Keith: "Oh, so the retainer stabbed the prince because he was actually an assassin? Yeah, it is a suspense story."

Sariel: "The noblewoman's butler is actually the prince's half-brother. This isn't a romance anymore, is it?"

Clavis: "But aren't you just a little curious about how it ends?"

Keith: "W-Well, yeah. I guess with so much to comment on, it's kind of intriguing."

Kagari: "Who knows? Maybe the princess is actually into this kind of plot."

Sariel: "That's possible. She does love immersing herself in stories regardless of the genre."

Kagari: "Clavis, let's run it from the top. This time, I want to check how the puppets move."

Clavis: "Of course. You and I have the most scenes together, after all—let's take our time and polish it to perfection."

Clavis: "I'm sure the quality of the performance will move Emma to tears."

Kagari: "I want to see that."

Clavis: "Then we'll keep practicing until it's flawless!"

Sariel & Keith: "…………"

Sariel: "There's a lot I want to say about the script, but I don't want to kill his momentum."

Keith: "Yeah. Seeing them so fired up kind of makes me want to try even harder, too."

Keith: "After all, we all want to make Emma smile."

Sariel: "Just this once, I'll turn a blind eye to how ridiculous the plot is and join the rehearsal."

Keith: "You're pretty soft on Clavis, Sariel."

Sariel: "A leftover habit from when I used to be his tutor, perhaps."

→ Silvio, Azel, Yves, Leon's side

[catsushinyakajima]

Voltron characters as algebraic expressions/distributions:

PIDGE: the binomial distribution

Binomial distributions display probabilities for a set number of binary trials (only two choices) within an experiment. I feel like this represents her because of her experimental nature as well as the two choices she was faced with in s1: saving the universe or leaving to save matt and her dad.

LANCE: sine function

IT'S ALL ABOUT THE WAVES!! Bro is smooth and bro swings both ways. Also, a sine wave is a periodic function, meaning it repeats the same pattern again and again. This can represent how while Lance is moving forward, he feels like is isn't growing or isn't more, but is rather stuck, bouncing between highs and lows.

KEITH: cosecant function

cosecant functions are the reciprocals of sin function (csc=1/sin), so this shows how Keith "reflects" or mirrors Lance. Additionally, the periods of csc functions start at positive or negative infinity and then stray towards the origin, but never quite reach it. This represents how Keith is so far away, and how everytime he comes back he leaves again, and how "home" always feels out of reach for him (csc function approaches horizontal asymptote but never truly gets there)

ALLURA: exponential function

The exponential function starts at an infintessimally small value that is nearly zero, and then rises drastically. The "flatter" values of the graph represent her comatose, and the sudden increase of values reflect her increased power, fight, and drive. It continues to increase forever, which I think can represent her death in canon. She transcends a barrier that the others cannot reach.

CORAN: uniform distribution

MY BOY Coran is the most unwavering support ever. The key aspect of a uniform distribution is that it is always the same value wherever it exists. It doesn't change or shift, just like how Coran has always, ALWAYS been able to constantly be there for the team and the universe.

HUNK: step function

While canon does him dirty, Hunk rises in both confidence and skill throughout the show. He's very methodic and is also a backbone to the team, which is why I gave him a function that's broken so evenly and is still rising. He is the type of character who climbs up. Also, I first used step functions in an engineering class!

SHIRO: hyperbolic function

OMG YALL ALR KNOW!! Not all hyperbolic functions map this way fyi, but THESE particular ones are sooooo Shiro. There is two parts of the graph, one positive and one negative. They never touch but they mirror each other identically and they're mapped by the same function. This represents Kuron and Shiro. They're both made from the same DNA, appear identical, but they have different minds and goals (the same way both parts of this function approach different values as x approaches infinity!)