yippee

What do you want to be when you grow up?

A space pilot!

An astronaut?

A space pilot, Mama. It’s not the same.

Even when people told him the odds (less than a 0.5% shot of making it out of orbit), even when his grades weren’t perfect and even when his school nemesis, Matteo, doubted him, he clung to hope. Desperately, he held it between small fists.

The Garrison answered. It was a dream come true.

Or maybe it was a nightmare. Because unlike his imaginings, Lance wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t the noble knight swooping in on a slim jet built for speed. He was a cargo pilot—a glorified delivery man at best, and at worst, pure cannon fodder. A pawn.

Maybe he hadn’t expected those goals to appear magically out of thin air, but suddenly, there Blue was. Glorious, shining, like a sword in a stone. She represented more, that despite the unlikely odds, Lance could have a destiny. He could be a knight or a savior or a hero.

Fuck, was that too far?

Those first few months in space were challenging. Learning how to hold a gun felt so at odds with what he’d grown up with, a trigger between his fingers and an enemy ahead of him clashing violently with memories of a spade in his palm and his mom’s flower garden.

He told himself that he was fine. This is what he’d wanted, after all. Lance starved his shame with forced pride, choked it and buried it and covered it with metal walls stronger than loose soil packed by gentle hands. After all, he was useful. There was a team, and that team praised his skill, occasionally. It was enough.

Then, he had to admit he wasn’t the star. That was difficult. Watching Keith ascend into Black’s cockpit felt like a sick fever dream, an echo of Matteo’s taunting in his ears that he was an annoying try hard.

Crazy how childhood stuff can stick with you, right?

It was good, though, having Keith as leader.

Nah, it was great. Who was he fooling, trying to act like a puzzle piece hadn’t clicked between them? With Keith and the helm and Lance at his side, they conquered so, so much. Lance strategized, Keith acted, Lance supported, Keith swung.

They flowed 10 times more smoothly than they’d ever moved before, a symphony of planning and pushing that made Voltron worthy. Which, in turn, helped Lance feel worthy, too. A dangerous game. A tantalizing, addicting feeling.

Everything went to shit. As it does.

When Keith left, Lance stared bleakly at his footsteps. He watched for traces of him in calls and meals and battles. Convinced himself he didn’t care. Lied to the others that he was fine. Got told off by Shiro, ignored by Hunk and Pidge, dismissed by Allura.

He’d been fucking around before, with Keith. Lance had lived his hero fantasy out too much. It wasn’t worthiness he’d felt before; it was delusions of grandeur. Fuck Keith for making him feel like he was important, then heading out without so much as a glance back.

Lance wondered if Keith was having a grand time with his new team. He imagined them laughing together, fighting more fiercely in ways that Keith would be proud to work alongside. Pictures spun in his head of Keith finally feeling comfortable, feeling like he belonged somewhere, in this place without Lance.

Bitterness coursed through him like a slow, ugly tar, tugging at his nerves and fraying him at the edges. With steady, rigid hands, he picked up his bayard and walked toward the training room.

Ofc they start larping as each other when they swap outfits

Ang tibok ng puso'y dinig sa kalawakan

Close up⬇️

EDIT : I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED IT EARLY MAN 😭😭 WHAT

we wear pink to honor the fallen warriors

lance mcclain and i have a mutual understanding that this is the most beautiful girl in the world thank you very much. he and i are shaking hands.

i don't know how i feel about this piece, but i love allura so its fine. i will probably definitely redraw this eventually because it didn't live up to my expectations but i don't really have the skills to get what i wanted yet.

the perspective is totally weird and i don't like how her clothing came out. the sketch fought me really really hard and i just couldn't get it :/. i also like the concept of the background/allura being the convergence of the multiverse, but i'm not sure i like how it came out. oh well.

i'm battling my own brain in terms of doing real practice, learning forms, lighting, color, etc. quintessential adhd shit where i know i NEED to do it to improve therefore it's the last thing i can actually face doing. love it!

that being said, i LOVE how her face and hair came out. procreate gouache brush remains superior to me for making lovely soft looking skin. its what i use for all of my coloring pretty much!

When your tuff half galra gf is an aggressive cuddler but you have crippling insomnia

beach day <3

successor to this

When she was a kid, and a court official’s child wanted her doll, her mother silently tugged it from her hands and placed it in theirs.

“We are royalty, Allura,” she had murmured, white hair glistening around her face under strong sunlit rays. “What belongs to us must always belong to our people.”

Her mother had seemed so otherworldly and powerful in that moment, gentle and yet unwavering all at once.

Allura knew she’d do anything to be like her, so she bit back her tears and nodded, swallowing the knot in her throat.

Then, the world changed. No, that wasn’t quite right.

The world died.

It blasted into shards too numerous and fragile to count, thrusting her into a deep sleep, and jolting her back just when she was on the cusp of a blissful, silent infinity. Reopening her eyes was like staring into a fluorescent nightmare. Her beloved home, her planet, had expanded in what felt like a day. She had gone from a figure on a rock, hurtling through space like all other living things, to a woman who was meant to see the universe all at once care deeply for every other creature.

Allura recalled her mother. She remembered sweet gentle hands and a tough, steady spirit. With arms wide open, she gave and gave all she had left, which wasn’t much.

First, she gave her castle. The last ties to her family now rested in the trust of five strange, well-meaning but ignorant humans. While the lions weren’t hers to hand over, that castle was, and each memory of her parents it held refused to fade as new ones of the team began sprouting.

Then, she gave her body. When she did finally enter the throes of battle, her strength and stamina advantages were still no match for the might of entire armies. She hid bruised ribs and sore joints from the team, took the occasional cut and scar from avoiding the pods.

Occasionally, mirrors haunt her. Allura still can feel her old body, the way it used to be soft edges and graceful curves. As a princess, she’d been known to slide effervescently across the dance floor.

As a warrior, she breaks.

It only made sense that she would give her mind as well. Though she prefers not to dwell, the nightmares are there. Occasionally, she trembles at a sound or a scent. Goosebumps follow her at every step.

But she keeps stepping forward anyways. No lingering. No hesitation.

So, when the battle reaches its epic climax, when the sounds of clanging and screams drown out every murmuring thing, when Allura can see into that infinity and all its gentle, unwavering light—

—she makes a choice. Isn’t she allowed to be selfish, for once? At last?

Because…

Because for all his foolishness. All his pompous, ridiculous commentary. All his lanky, uncoordinated movements and trite remarks and annoying habits.

Lance McClain is a boy who knows how to love. In her final days, after a lifetime of existing for others, Allura wants. She craves. She hungers for a time, a place, a people who loved her. Lance embodies that, shockingly enough, with his kind eyes and his tall, sure embraces.

Allura knows that her foreshadowed sacrifice will hurt him. When she vanishes from this plane, she wonders if people will call her awful for how she hurt him. Unfortunately, she just can’t help herself.

Despite everything, she’s still scared. And she’d rather have his warm, gentle, loving touch to guide her into that infinity than nothing. She’d like a glimpse of what is promised to her on the other side. Something to make her strong, allow her to slip into false confidence, and stay with her as she takes those final steps.

As she is showered in bright light.

As she hears the otherworldly and powerful.

As the sunlight shimmers down on her.

She turns her face to the warmth, remembering the taste of tears in her honor, knowing she was and will be forever loved. It is peace and it is relief.

day at the lake