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ditzydisaster13 · 2 months

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TBOTLS

Creatures:

Before I start. Humans are just human. Their abilities are typically very limited. If none at all. Rounded ears, two eyes, varying shades of skin tones that happen when there’s only 2 families of fully human-ish humans. Their powers cannot manipulate or change their biology. They cannot have wings or tails. If they do, it’s made of pure magic, like wings that are as only as solid as the dirt they are made up. Which are never much good for flying anyways. They cannot change their appearances. Piercings and hair colour have to be done without magic. Spells are the only magic that works in changing human. Humans are typically able to connect to the moon or the sky. Seeing as they’re being from earth. A planet not much told about on the planet Stromvea.

Hopklif:

Hopklifs are like fawns. Humanoid creatures with deer antlers. But they’re also like Jackalopes. But more human. They have long rabbit ears and deer antlers. Fluffy tails, markings all over their bodies, super strong legs, and kinda crazy personalities. They never stick to one. They’re normally caring and kind. But feelings can catch up with them and become more negative. They’re basically giant human-ish jackalopes.

Given:

They’re very much human like creatures. In movements, speech patterns, specific behaviors, and much else. Their appearances are the most human to other species. Although there are few markings in the skin that represent an otherwise. The only differences, is that they have a second set of eyes (which they can hide). And their natural ability to be soothing to others. As long as you don’t make a Given upset, they should never act out. Sometimes tiredness can affect them though. And there’s also one involved in a war.

Horenpike:

Human-ish in appearance. With two large horns protruding from the forehead, and large birdlike wings. Their wings and skin are very sensitive. So are their rounded human-ish ears. Hornepikes are the most similar to humans out of all the species. Aside from their animalistic appearances. They are typically as valuable and as powerful as humans are recognized. They’re only just slightly more common than humans. Their ears and eyes are very human. Aside from the extra sensitivity that results in many cases needing glasses or hearings aids to assist those sensory issues. Their wings are heavy and useless aside from one week of every year. Not a birth week or a holiday recognized by anyone other than Human’s and Horenpike. Thricin (pronoun tree-sin). A ecliptical day, where the moon settles over a very special lake. Humans are most often connected to the moon or the sky. Horenpike are no different. Their connection is mainly the wings. They always have blue coloured eyes and the horns on their head are white like their soft yet heavy wings.

Grunt:

A type of wingless fae/faerie. A type of Fae that remain on the shorter side, with tempers that can be difficult to control. They are family people. And do not take being abandoned well. They are brisk and good fighters. Who fight with force and trickery. They are sneaky and prideful in not only their skills but their keen. Their biology forms as if they were to have wings. But instead, they have a limited ability to hover. Which is typically activated in moments of sudden emotion. Fear, surprise, excitement, and sometimes a very pure curiosity.

Screech:

They’re like Land sirens? And harpies?- Their bodies are large and feathered. They speak in clicks and groans. Hums and grunts and whistles. Hisses and Wayns (a wayn is like a yawn that’s screamed? A low pitched shout?) wails and screams and screeches. Their voices sound like nails on chalkboards. They can either use their voices, which are just screeches. To ruin someone’s hearing. They can harness their voices for a moment and shoot back sonic waves and sounds. Or they can turn into a murky cloud of soun for rapid escapes. They’re powerful, judgemental, and dangerous. Heed warnings when approaching their territories. They will kill. And are even cannibalistic in some points. These creatures are essentially giant owl. Carnivorous and fierce. Meant to be feared. Not much else is known about them besides their appearances. The noises they make, and the danger they hold.

Holo:

Holo’s are aquatic dwellers. They are always female. Unlike mermaids, they cannot take a more human for. Their forms remain with a tail. However, their bodies are lean and long. Very skinny with compact muscles. Webbed ears, fingers, and toes, with small fins on the arms and legs. They do in fact have a tail. But it protrude from the back. The tails are long and strong. Theyre very mush shark like; flicking from side to side rather than up and down swishes like a dolphin or a whale. They have sharp teeth, and on a human where the canines would be, are their longest and sharpest teeth. The tails are fairly heavy when a Holo steps out of the water. But Holo’s can only spend about a day’s worth of time outside of the water.

Elf: (different than most medias showcase)

Human in size, If a little small like Grunts. While Grunts are a little more human than an Elf, they share similar qualities. Elves are brash and cold in many cases. But they live family the same as grunts. Elves have very large pointed ears, larger and longer than an Alteans. So much so that they typically droop down. They have very small wings that barely deliver the ability to fly and are typically considered wingless fae.

Faeries/Fae: (different than most medias showcase)

Many creatures on this planet have some sort of slight biological relation to the fae. These creatures are tall and thin, with mighty wings that often resemble an earthen butterfly, although a bit less opaque. However, these are not the fae of earthen tales. Fae here have small fangs, large void-like eyes, and long pointed ears. Their wings are large, thin, and powerful. But just beautiful. Fae are often silent types. They speak not much. For their voices are raspy and swallowed. They have long tails that protrude from their lower back. (Tailbone ofc) the tails are for balance during flight. No other function. Besides maybe displaying emotion. Faeries channel their magic through the bracelets they wear. Helping control their elementally manipulative abilities. Typically modeling water into shapes, bending hills. Nothing overpowered. But the bracelets keep them from injury. Their skin is pale, then ombrés into the colour of their element around their eyes and ears like a mask, then towards their hands in feet. Their fingers are long, with pointed nails. They would be scary creatures if their beauty wasn’t there. Like giant bugs if you will.

#BTBOTLS #voltron #Story #book #chapters #creatures #fantasy #fantasy au #magic war #Humans #magic creatures #voltronlegendarydefender #vld lance #vld paladins #Angst #magic #getting to know this world

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autisticlancemcclain · 5 months

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My Dearest La

Dear La

Lance,

I really hate it when you’re right.

I know you are smiling as you read this. I can see it so clearly in my head. You are rolling your eyes now, probably, in fact you are probably even straining yourself. But I bet you are still smiling.

…

I miss you.

You told me leaving was stupid. Well, we screamed about it. I don’t like that I left angry. I should have waited so we could have been — well, I don’t know. I just don’t like that I left without saying goodbye properly. I don’t like that I didn’t get to kiss the smush between your eyebrows that you get when you’re mad

The bottom line is that I’m sorry. And I can’t do anything about it now because what’s done is done but. I wish I did. I’m sorry this message is so dorky. I can’t help how I feel about you. I promise I’ll be more — suave, or whatever, in my next one. There’s this Blade I hang out with sometimes, Sedrit, she is awkwardly funny like you. She has promised to give me some pointers because she’s as nosy as you are and read over my shoulder all the other times I tried to write this letter. I don’t trust her judgement but I’d walk into a wall on purpose in front of Pidge’s cameras if I could guarantee it’d make you laugh I think we could always use a smile. I’m ending this letter now because I’m embarrassed and if I write one more line I’ll lose my nerve.

Love,

Warm regards,

Sincerely,

Love,

Keith

———

“Sir? Sir! Hold on! Sir!”

The Balmeran turns, looking back at him curiously. He leans heavily on his cane, back hunched but chin set squarely.

“Yes, Blade?”

Keith jogs all the way over to him, stopping a respectful distance away. He reaches up to deactivate his mask, which he is not supposed to do, but the mask is fucking creepy, okay, it makes people uneasy so clearly that even Keith can see it, so fuck Kolivan’s lectures. He’s vindicated by the visible relaxing of the Balmeran’s shoulders.

“I need — a favour,” Keith says haltingly. His own shoulders begin to hunch. “If you don’t mind.”

The Balmeran’s stiff brows lift in surprise. He looks deliberately down at his newly-bandaged leg, then back up at Keith. Keith flushes.

“A… favour.”

All the pockets on Keith’s uniform are square-shaped and small. Deep, but not very long. Anything he puts in there gets squished. Except for the long, thin pocket-thing hidden against the outside of his thigh.

The letter has been stuffed carefully in there for two weeks. It’s a miracle it hasn’t been destroyed. The top left corner of it has gotten frayed, because Keith keeps catching himself rubbing it with the pad of his thumb.

“I know you’ve been through so much,” Keith says quietly. “I’m sorry even to ask.”

The Balmeran’s stance is still carefully guarded, practiced —

“As have you.”

— but his eyes are soft and knowing.

Keith lets out a long, heavy breath. He slides the letter gently out of its spot, turning it over in his hands; inspecting the familiar creases, ink stains. It’s a rough, recycled envelope. Made out of old briefing notes, by the looks of it, thick black lines of censorship streaking across the pale yellow surface. An ugly thing, really.

“I need to get this to the Red Paladin of Voltron,” he says, forcing himself to hand the thing over. “I don’t — I can’t send it through the Empire delivery service, for obvious reasons. And Voltron’s location is always encrypted. I —” He stops, mouth clamping shut, because suddenly the words have become impossible to force out through the lump in his throat. He hasn’t talked to the team in weeks. He has no way of contacting them without putting them — or himself — in danger. There will be absolutely no way for Lance to send him a letter back, even if he wants to. The whole thing seems, abruptly, a painful kind of hopeless.

And yet.

“I will pass it along,” promises the Balmeran, voice flooded with kind understanding. He wraps his hands around Keith’s, squeezing once, before gently prying the letter out of his clenched fingers. “I don’t know how long it will take, but I have a someone who works in Emerg-med. She travels frequently, and should be able to take it farther than I can.”

“Thank you,” Keith chokes out, blinking rapidly.

The Balmeran smiles. “Keep strong, child.”

———

“Granddaughter,” greets the old man warmly. The young woman turns at his voice, laughing in delight when she sees him and enveloping him carefully in an embrace.

“Grandfather! You’re well!”

“I’m alive,” he corrects, teasingly.

She takes the jest in stride. “You are alive, and so you are well. I am so happy to see you.” There is genuine love in her voice. She holds tightly to his arm. “Are you staying in care long?”

He shakes his head. “No, dear. I dropped by only to see you. And,” he digs around in his pocket, carefully extracting a letter, placing it in her waiting hands, “to ask a favour.”

“A letter?”

“For the Red Paladin, from the Black.”

“I see.” She frowns thoughtfully, turning the paper over in her hands. “Last I heard, they were rebuilding on Ilso. I am going only as far as Igrendia, to visit my cousin.”

“Pass it along then,” he suggests.

She promises she will.

———

A young girl, to her cousin: “Imeld! Can you pass something along for me?”

A cousin, to her lover: “If you could drop it off at the supply camp when you stop by.”

A lover, to his father: “A friend of mine works in that fuel stop. Let him know I sent you?”

A father, to a friend of a friend: “Only a couple stops left, I reckon.”

A friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend: “It’s almost there.

———

A friend of a friend of a friend, to a Paladin:

“I think this is yours. It’s travelled a while.”

———

A smile aches at the apples of Lance’s cheeks. Salt drips onto his tongue, and he swallows, breath shuddering.

“You — dorky asshole,” he whispers, and tucks the envelope in the secret pocket on the thigh of his undersuit.

———

Lance,

I have no idea if my last letter got to you. I hope it did, if not, here’s the rundown: you were right, I regret leaving, and I miss you.

Anyways.

Today I was on a mission in a planet that was just a huge wildflower field. Just — hundreds of hundreds of flowers, every colour you can imagine and then some. It smelled like you. I cried.

Do you remember when we snuck out of that negotiation — thing? Whatever it was? And you poked me hard in the arm and loudly complained about how much of a bummer I was being. And you dared me to roll down the hill with you. And when I was laughing at the bottom of the hill because you had just so much grass in your hair you crawled over me and kissed me like you’d been waiting to do it.

I remember how we kissed until my lips bruised after. And then we just lay there, until I got fidgety, and then you pulled us both up and walked around picking flowers and sticking them in my hair and snickering. This was the flower. Doesn’t it look like the one you brought back?

I thought of you a lot today. It hurt a little bit. A lot bit. I missed you until it ached.

I hope I see you in the flowers again soon.

I love you more than the stars

Love, and lots of it,

Keith

———

“Hey, Sedrit.”

His voice is as hushed as he can make it. He doesn’t want to wake the others. But she won’t be asleep — she never sleeps before big missions. She says it’s because the adrenaline keeps her alert, puffing up her chest. But Keith knows that she prays because she is afraid that she will die.

She doesn’t answer, so he kicks the bottom of the mattress above him. He hears a huff, and then seconds later, a curtain of hair flops over the side of the top bunk, and her wide, pupil-less eyes blink into focus.

“What do you want, shithead.”

He smiles at her guiltily. “A favour?”

“Ugh.”

But she looks at him in begrudging acceptance.

“I need you to — drop something off, when you go to El-dan. Ask another Blade there if they could pass on a letter.”

She must read his tone, because the annoyance vanishes from her expression. She reaches over and flicks him in the nose.

“Yeah, lovebird. I can pass on your letter.”

———

“Hey, man, could you send this along the next off-world?”

“What for?”

“For true love. Or because I asked you to.”

———

“I don’t know what it is. It’s classified. But it needs to get to the Red Paladin.”

———

“I heard it’s news of an ambush!”

“Well, it can’t be news now. It’s weeks old at least.”

“Yes, well, drop it off anyways. It’s Voltron business, you know.”

———

Lance’s door slide opens.

“I have — correspondence,” says Allura, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I was informed of a possible ambush? Perhaps we should read the letter together.”

Prepared remark about greetings and knocking and why they were invented flee Lance’s tongue, and his controller clatters to the ground in his haste to meet her.

“Lemme see,” he demands, snatching the letter straight from her hands. Her protests fall on deaf ears.

You were right, I regret leaving, I miss you.

He grins.

“What is that?”

“No ambush,” he says breathlessly, floating back over to his bed. He traces the shape of every letter, the blots of smudged ink. The scratch of the words is just as important as the content of the letter, Lance has found. He’s long since memorized the first letter, but he still finds himself drawing it out of his pocket, unfolding it with a shaky sort of reverence, studying every slanted T and looped L, closing his eyes and letting the impression of the ink burn into his eyelids. The cadence of the words have become song, hummed over and over and over again in his head.

This time, there’s a drawing. It does indeed look similar to the one hanging, dried, at the head of his bed. He presses the tip of his thumb into the center of it, breathing hard, rapidly blinking away the tears so they don’t drop and ruin the paper.

“I remember,” he manages, half-choked. “I remember, I remember.”

When he looks up again, hours have passed, and Allura has long since left, closing the door quietly behind her.

———

Lance, my love,

I know we do not talk about the observation deck.

It is your sacred place, I think. When you sit in the middle of the floor and look up at the glowing stars and the planets cast shadows on your face and make your eyes shine gold as sunlight the only way to describe you is holy. The first time I ever saw you like that it made my stomach hurt. When I think about it now I miss you so much the ache spreads all the way to my teeth.

When I was a kid I read about how grief makes you hurt but time makes you forget. I read about how men begin to forget the shape of their late wives’ smile. Or the slope of her nose. I read about how children begin to forget the slant of their fathers’ shoulder. How mothers forget the way their babies curled their fist.

Missing you hurts like unravelling. You’re all I think about. I will never forget the fit of your hand in mine as long as I remember how to speak. And I will know the ridges of your teeth so long as I can taste. I will know the length of your back as long as I can walk. I will remember the curve of your lips as long as I can blink. I will know the way you glowed in floating blue starlight until my brain shuts down and my organs fail me.

Patroclus said I will know him in death and at the end of the world.

I will know you every waking second of my life, and I will make myself remember for every nanosecond in between.

Nothing will compare to holding you in my arms again.

Keith

———

Sedrit has officially been declared missing in action. A new soldier has taken her bunk.

Keith’s stomach hurts all the time, now.

“Just — one time,” Keith begs.

“You have way more training than that job requires,” says Kolivan.

“I know. I just —” He realises, suddenly, that even if he had an argument he does not have the strength to make it. The letter creases in his clenched hands. “Please.”

For a long moment the Blade leader does not speak. Keith meets his searching gaze, but his eyes are blank, unfocused. Exhaustion pulls at his features. His hood droops on his shoulders.

“In an out, Keith,” Kolivan relents finally. “A supply mission should take less than four vargas. I want you back here then and not a tick later, so you understand?”

Keith could cry in relief, but Kolivan looks stiff enough already. Should Keith express an emotion in front of him he might be forced into a total system reset, and his programming might not be prepared for that.

“Thank you,” he says instead, and rushes off before he can change his mind.

Matt is leading the supply run. This letter might land right in Lance’s hands.

———

“I’ll get it to him, Keith.”

“Thank you, Matt. I owe you.”

“Take care of yourself, man. They all miss you.”

“…I miss them too.”

———

Matt hands him the letter without a word. No one else says anything, either, when he clenched it tightly between his thumb and forefinger and walks right out of the bridge. Not even Shiro, whose gaze Lance can feel bore a hole into the back of his head.

You’re all I think about, writes Keith’s neat cursive, and Lance presses the paper to his chest and cries.

———

My Lance,

I hate it here.

I miss you.

———

Alarm bells shriek through the headquarters. Keith has become numb to them, at this point.

He slides the letter in between the pages of an intelli-file and hopes.

———

CLASSIFIED

FOR VOLTRON’S EYES ONLY

BIOMETRICS REQUIRED

WILL SELF DESTRUCT

———

There is a letter waiting on his bed when Lance gets back from his mission on Efid-d. He has not slept in three days. His vision is blurry.

He falls asleep with the paper open in his hands, mirroring the curve of Keith’s body.

———

My love,

Naxzela. Soon. I think Kolivan knows there’s something wrong. I’m gonna I might I think I can stay, for a bit. Hopefully.

Well, I will see you again. Damn it all. I don’t care about the world I don’t care about the Empire I don’t care about anything, anymore, I just want to come home —

Naxzela.

It will be weeks until I see you face to face on this mission but already everything seems less bleak. I will admit some of the anger has crept in. I feel awful. I’m trying to remember what you said, in the very beginning, before you kissed me in the flowers. When you held my hands in the purple light and said we make a good team.

I know you say you don’t remember it, you goober. You do. You get embarrassed when I bring it up, that’s how I know. You always get embarrassed when you’re caught being vulnerable.

I loved you then, you know. I didn’t know it then but I did. I thought about your hand in mine for weeks. You have always been so central to me.

Soon, sweetheart. Soon I can hold you again.

Naxzela.

———

He doesn’t bother sending this one along. He tucks it in the secret pocket on the side of his pants, and with every passing day it grows heavier and the weight on his chest grows lighter.

———

When the shield closes over the planet and Keith says, it’s been an honour serving with you all, the scream starts at the bottom of Lance’s feet. It comes up to his knees when he sees the pod speeding towards it, up to his chest when Shiro barks at him to stay in formation. It catches in his throat as he wrenches Red away.

It echoes through space when the pod hits the shield in a shower of blue sparks and grey smoke, and Prince Lotor defects to their side one nanosecond too late.

———

The beep of the healing pod synchs with Lance’s heartbeat. It can’t quite drown out the screech echoing in Lance’s head; that keeps going, and going, and going.

Soon, sweetheart.

He sobs into the half-burned paper.

———

“You better keep your promise, you dorky asshole.”

———

Healing pods have always smelt, inexplicably, of burnt hair.

He hears the slide of the glass door opening, then the whoosh of air as he pitches forward before his arms are awake enough to stop him. Luckily, he falls right into bony arms, and the smell of flowers and sunshine quickly envelops him.

“You motherfucker,” says a voice, heavy with tears, and Keith smiles.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he croaks.

His Lance sobs. The hands on the sides of his arms slide slowly down to his wrists, gripping tightly. Keith forces his eyes open, blinking away the bleariness. Lance has his own eyes squeezed shut, like he’s too afraid to look, head bowed.

Well, that simply won’t do.

“Lance, baby, look at me.”

“You motherfucker,” Lance repeats, and finally he does look up but he’s glaring angrier than Keith has ever seen him. Keith grins wider. “You motherfucker, you damn near lied to me.”

Slowly, half convinced he’ll move to fast and wake up on his bunk, alone, he reaches up and cups Lance’s cheeks. He swipes his thumbs carefully over wet cheekbones, exhaling shakily, revelling in the feel of Lance’s skin under his, finally, finally, finally.

“I’m home, Lance,” he whispers. Tears spring from his own eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

“Stay,” Lance begs, like he should have months and months ago, like he meant to, like he wanted to.

“There’s no other option,” Keith promises, and as he leans in and presses their lips together, finally, tasting the salt and licking the ridge of his teeth and swallowing every shuddering breath, he vows to never send a letter again.

He’ll tell Lance all he needs to hear himself.

———

all art by @mothmanavenue

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