"This is the end. I am going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell."*
It's very bittersweet to have posted my final Voltron fanfiction yesterday. I had a few more I'd hoped to share, but sadly itās just not feasible for me for my mental health. That said, I was able to post more than I had planned to and going out with a story full of my favorite things -- Hunk and Lance friendship, hurt Lance, protective Hunk, Shiro angst, Shiro and Lance bonding, and Shiro getting comfort -- is a hell of a way to end it š§” This last story, What You Deserve, also helped me to hit a few milestones including:
MyĀ 260th fanfic posted on AO3!
PostingĀ 2.9 millionĀ words of stories on AO3Ā (and if I count the 550k of VLD fics on Patreon almost reachingĀ 3.5 million!)
Posting for a total of 9 years (2017-2025) on AO3!
I am done posting and writing now barring getting the motivation to finish my KPDH fanfiction and maybe someday doubly finding motivation to finish my VLD s8/series fix-it fic for my own happy ending for this series that has meant so much to me and deserved a better end.
I'm including below a list of all the fanfictions I will not be publishing on AO3 that are available for purchase on my Patreon if you wanted to read them there (as well as the over 550k words of Patreon exclusive VLD works!).
Thank you to all who have been along for the journey. If you have a moment and want to send me off on a positive, warm note, it'd mean a lot to hear your thoughts in a comment on my final VLD fanfiction, What You Deserve!
Take care!
Unpublished IcyPanther Fanfictions Available on Patreon
It's Not Personal (It Isn't) (5.6k)
Summary: āI wish to see you prove to me, Black Paladin Keith, half-Galran, if you are what Voltron has proclaimed itself to be,ā the king spoke. āYou will remain here and join in our alliance discussions. However, out of respect to my queen and my people, I must insist that you are cleansed of your Galran stench that reeks of death and darkness.ā
Or; A budding Voltron alliance goes sideways when the aliens take literal offense to Keithās presence. Keith agrees to their request of a bath in the best attempt to smooth things over, but embarrassment turns to shame when heās treated as something instead of someone and now the heritage heās still trying to come to terms with is forcibly on display for all to see.
A Good Hurt (5.1k)
Summary: The mission was simple: Keith would go undercover in the fighting ring that was specifically seeking Galrans courtesy of Shiro and Lance acting as slave traders, who would then infiltrate using Keith as their bait and decoy. Keith knew it would be violent ā the event was being billed as āBloodbathā ā but he felt confident in his abilities to hold his own. Except what he discovers after making it inside is the call for Galrans wasnāt to watch them fight. Itās to watch them be tortured.
Raindrops On a Window Pane (5.9k)
Summary: Keith knows he has a lot to learn about being a good leader and one thing he really needs to learn about is the newest member of Team Voltron. Allura is still a princess but sheās a Paladin now too and Keith has to figure out how her skillset will integrate with the team, particularly on the mission side. But what starts off as a friendly test of skills goes sideways as besides learning about his teammate Keith learns that some of the abuse he suffered in the foster system isnāt quite as buried as he thought.Ā
Crimson Shard (6k)
Summary:Ā The trip outside the Garrison was equal parts research project for Shiroās new prosthetic arm and a brief escape from the responsibilities and duties Shiro has had thrust upon him since returning to Earth and heās beyond grateful to Matt and Pidge for instigating both. Heās not looking forward to having to go back to meetings and heād do almost anything to put it off.
But notā¦ not this.Ā
Not their vehicle striking a hidden landmine. Not Matt being violently ejected out the front window. Not the blood splattered and shattered glass covered ground. Not Shiro pinned, Pidge trapped and Matt lying so so still.Ā
_____ Guy (ATLA) (5k)
Summary: Supply shopping was all things considered boring, but it at least it allowed Sokka to feel useful after weeks of feeling like the fourth wheel in Team Avatar. The simple errand turns sideways though when Sokka is targeted by a set of slave travers who know theyāll have a buyer for the exotic āWater Tribe savage.ā
*Bilbo Baggins quote from The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring.
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PREORDERS ARE OPEN! CLICK HERE TO VISIT THE BOOKSHOP TO ORDER YOUR COPIES!
Quite the shiny collection, eh? ā„
Preorders for all of the new zines and books are officially open. Preorders will remain open until October 22Ā at 9:00 PM CSTĀ Saturday, November 7 at 12pm CST due to the fact the Langst zine met its first stretch goal and is getting a zine exclusive fic! I will not beĀ ordering extra copies so if you would like any of these titles pleaseĀ preorder.Ā If you need an extension please message me and I can work with you on that :)
Please see below for all information on pricing, stretch goals, incentive goals and other information. All listings in the Bookshop contain more detailed information for each book or zine.
For all zine and book updates be sure to follow @icymakesazineā!
Thank you all for your support! ā„
Pricing
Zines / Collections
NEW! A Collection of Langst Volume Three: $19 + shipping (Stretch Goals Here)Ā (stretch goal of zine exclusive fic reached!)
NEW! A Short(er) Story Collection Volume Two (Lance-centric): $26 + shipping
NEW! A Short(er) Story Collection Volume Three (other character-centric): $26 + shipping
A Short(er) Story Collection Volume One: $27 + shipping
Fanfiction Stories / Series
NEW! Your Biggest Fan: Non-Patreon members $50 + shipping. Patreon members, find your discounts here.
NEW! Shooting for the Stars (But Crashing Back Down) Series: $26 + shipping
NEW!Ā The Purity of Sin: $28 + shipping
My Favorite Toy: $18 + shipping
The Burning Bright Series: $12 + shipping
Special Bundles:
New Fic Bundle including: A Collection of Langst Volume Three, A Short(er) Story Collection Volume Two, A Short(er) Story Collection Volume Three, Shooting for the Stars (But Crashing Back Down): Ā $94 + bundled shipping
New Fic Bundle Option Two including: A Collection of Langst Volume Three, A Short(er) Story Collection Volume Two, A Short(er) Story Collection Volume Three, Shooting for the Stars (But Crashing Back Down), Your Biggest Fan: Ā $143 + bundled shipping
All three Short(er) Story Collections: $75 + shipping
Charity
Donāt forget that proceeds from āA Collection of Langst Volume Threeā will be benefiting the charity The Anti-Cruelty SocietyĀ and proceeds from Shooting for the Stars (But Crashing Back Down) will be benefiting the charityĀ Rape, Abuse & Incest, National Network (RAINN).
Yāall my fanfic idol practically just gave me a shoutout on her tumblr just for commenting on her works I am SHAKING
Leave comments in fics! They love to read them, and it inspires them to post more. Seeing that I make her happy just from commenting on works and telling others to as well??? Itās really rewarding, and not just in more fics being published.
Yāall need to go and check out @icypantherwrites She works so hard and not enough people recognize that. All of her works (except for the ones that are Patreon-exclusive I believe) are posted on her ao3, IcyPanther. She mostly writes Langst, but she occasionally writes for other fandoms (I think thereās even a BNHA one that I have yet to read, and thereās an FMA one, and I think an ATLA one? Not sure on the last one)
She brightens my day whenever she posts a fic, or when I go back and re-read her other fics. Sheās super good at writing angst, and then the comfort that comes after is *french kiss*
She inspired me to not only write fanfictions (ones that arenāt my super old Wattpad 12-year-old-garbage) and publish them (I know that one of them is on hiatus bUT THATS NOT MY POINT) And Holding On With Broken Fingers (my most popular fic) makes me so excited to update, because I get some wonderful comments, and I want to see her get the same treatment!
Icy is a huge inspiration and it sucks to see that she gets so discouraged sometimes. She works incredibly hard, and I want to see her works get the recognition she deserves.
So go to her Patreon and become a member, where you can read fics she hasnāt put on AO3 (do it for me, my mother wonāt let me) and she does fic commissions!!! I donāt remember if theyāre only seasonal, I donāt think so though.
And WHENEVER YOU COMMISSION ANYONE, WHETHER IT BE FOR ART OR FIC OR ANYTHING ELSE, THANK THEM!!!!! They put so much time and effort into it, and not showing them thanks is just heartbreaking to see (looking at you, Quarentine commissioner!)
Sorry this got long, but I know I have at least SOME regulars on my page. I know that I usually just reblog stuff and occasionally post art, but please take me seriously right now. Icy is amazing, and this is a thank you post. (Iāve been meaning to make it for a while, and I regret not making it sooner)
She reads her comments, and even occasionally replies. She knows her regulars, and I am proud to be one.
So @icypantherwrites, keep your head up. You do wonderful things, and I want to thank you. Thank you for providing us with all of these wonderful fanfictions. Thank you for being so strong in the face of disappointment. Youāre wonderful
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So since you love having so many projects going on, may I add one more to the table? For the Bad Things Happen Bingo, "fake kill scare" and for characters Hunk and Lance (however they fall is up to you)? ā„ Gracias, amiga!
My Bingo Card | Join @badthingshappenbingo and Get Your Bingo Card Here! | Buy me a coffee?
They killed Lance. They murdered him.
And they made Hunk watch.
He could do nothing but weep and beg and scream until his throat ached, forced to kneel in mud at the edge of the clearing. They already made clear how it was they planned to carry out their task; the march through the dark, misted woods led them down a corridor of corpses, all swaying from the crooked boughs in varying states of decay.
Two of their captorsāmercenaries for the Galra, and just as ruthlessāseized Lance by the crook of either elbow and hoisted him atop two stacks of dented, bullet-pocked cans. Lance kept a strained smile as the noose was fit around his neck, the loose end tossed over a tree and held by two more men.
āDonāt be scared, Hunk,ā Lance said. āWeāre defenders of the universe, right? Weāve walked through the proverbial valley and we fear no evil, because weāre freaking Paladins of Voltron. Weāve been through hell and back again.ā His voice was high and reedy, and Hunk suspected he only kept talking to distract himself from the fact that holy shit he was about to die.
The torches held by two of the mercenaries cast long shadows on his face, and even from this distance Hunk could see the frightened tears shining in Lanceās eyes. He seemed so much smaller and frailer, especially stripped down to nothing but his flightsuit.
āPlease donāt do this,ā Hunk pled, turning to the leader instead of watching Lanceās eyes dance around, unsure of who or what to focus on. He struggled against his bindings, shoulders aching and wrists rubbed raw against the steel cuffs. āD-donāt. Please.ā
The leader grinned at him, all fangs and a twisted, perverted pleasure in their terror. In lieu of deigning Hunkās plea with a reply, he whistled to his men at the rope. They whistled back and pulled it taut. Lance straightened with a gasp as they yanked with such force it forced him to his tiptoes.
āDonāt!ā Hunk screamed again. āD-donāt do it! Whatever you want from me, Iāll do it. Iāll t-tell you, just donāt hurt him, please!ā
āHow cute,ā the leader sneered, and kicked out the stack from under Lanceās left foot. Lance cried out, and Hunk saw his arms jerk against his cuffs behind him, like he wanted to throw them out to balance himself. He teetered dangerously on his one tenuous remaining foothold.
āNO!ā Hunk wept. āNo, no, nonononononononoāā Bile threatened to rise up and Hunk willed it down, if only to continue to plead their case, to appeal to whatever shred of mercy these monsters had.
āLook away, Hunk,ā Lance rasped out. And oh, how Hunk wanted to. Hunk wanted to shut his eyes, wanted to shut his ears and if force of will alone could teleport them to safety, theyād both be back in the Castle slurping on milkshakes.
But he couldnāt do it. He couldnāt look away. He couldnāt leave Lance to die looking into the eyes of his killers.
āDonāt watch,ā said Lance again, and again when Hunk didnāt comply. āHunk, donāt watchāā
Two things happened, then:
The leader raised a clawed hand, that predatory grin never once leaving his face. He stepped forward until he was nearly flush against Lanceās chest, blocking his gaze from Hunkās line of sight.
The next noises that came out of Lanceās mouth scarcely sounded human, as the leader simultaneously kicked out the last stack of cans and plungedĀ his claws into Lanceās stomach. All the air rushed out of Hunk at once, his pleas and sobs extinguished.
Lanceās agonized, gasping screams rent the air as he was simultaneously strangled and impaled. He kicked and twisted fruitlessly, fighting for purchase, fighting for air. Blood splattered to the forest floor when the leader ripped his claw out with a sickening squelch, entrails and muscle clenched tightly in his fist. He plunged it in again, this time into Lanceās chest, and though it didnāt seem possible, Lance screamed even louder.
This time when the leader brought his claw out, Lanceās heart came with it.
Lance went abruptly silent, though feeble, choked gurgles still escaped him. His body swung, his innards spilling out of the cavernous wound in his gut, and his legs still spasmed. Blood dripped down in rivulets, the droplets ringing out against the otherwise stillness of the woods as they splattered into the pool below.
Hunk gasped for air like he was being strangled himself, tears streaming from wide, disbelieving eyes. Pitiful whimpers escaped him as his jaw shuddered and trembled. Lanceās lifeless eyes bore into him as he swayed, and yet Hunk could not look away.
Turning, the leader made his way over to where his men still forced Hunk to kneel, fangs glinting in the firelight. He squatted down before Hunk and held the heart up in front of his face. He smirked.
Then he turned his hand over and let it fall from his fingers. It rolled in the dirt until it came to a stop, resting against Hunkās knee. It was still warm.
Hunk lost it.
He howled in heartbroken sorrow. There was no other way of describing it. He wailed and wept and howled until he gagged, and then he was forcefully expelling the contents of his stomach down his front. If it werenāt for the hands on either shoulder holding him upright, heād have collapsed in a heaving fit.
Around him, the men cackled and jeered. āDonāt watch, Hunk!ā one mocked, voice pitched up in a gross mimicry of Lanceās last words. āDonāt watch!ā
āHunk!ā cackled another. āHunk! Hunk!ā
Hands came up on either side of his face and gripped him firmly. Hunk physically recoiled, choking on spittle and air. āD-Donāt!ā He tried to force his way back, but met resistance in the form of an unmovable mercenary behind him. Finally, he clenched his eyes shut.
The image of Lanceās eviscerated corpse was burned behind his eyelids.
āHunk!ā the voices still mocked.
The hands slapped his cheeks. He thrashed against the hands, even as calloused fingertips pressed against his jaw.
āS-stop,ā he whispered.
āHunk!ā
Someone doused him with frigid water, and Hunkās eyes flew open on a gasp.
Gone was the clearing, illuminated by moonlight and cast into shadow by torchlight and stained with Lanceās blood. Gone were the mercenaries and their mocking jeers. Gone was Lanceās lifeless body, hanging limp from a tree.
Instead, a dim cyan glow cast the room into a soft, almost ethereal light. Dimly, Hunk recognized he was still screaming, though the ragged cries were dwindling off into a staccato of hiccups and sobs.
Hunk whimpered again, blinking his bleary eyes until the world came into focus. It was sideways; somewhere in the chaos, he must have collapsed, because he wasnāt kneeling any longer. Above him, a pair of glistening blue eyes peered down at him, a brow furrowed in deep concern. Hunk realized the hands on his face belonged to this blue-eyed person, and without thinking, he stopped struggling.
āHey, heās coming round!ā the person called over their shoulder. The smackingānot smacking, he realized, just pattingāstopped, giving way to thumbs stroking his cheeks. āHunk, buddy, come back to me. Thatās it. Youāre safe now, youāre in the Castle.ā
Hunkās next breath shuddered past his lips.
Lance.
Tremblingāunboundāhands reached up and found Lanceās face, warm and damp but alive beneath his touch. Lance stilled. Hunk sobbed again, clutching Lanceās face harder.
āNot me, Hunk,ā Lance murmured, concern morphing slightly into confusion. He never stopped stroking Hunkās cheek. āJust you. We had to go bust you out. Wasnāt going to leave you in the Galraās hands a second longer.ā
āNot Galra.ā No, they werenāt Galra. Hunk wouldnāt be forgetting that any time soonānot the fangs, not the claws, none of it. āNot Galra. Theyā¦ they kiāā He choked, tasting salt. He couldnāt bring himself to say it.
āWhatever it was they gave him, itās likely it was highly hallucinogenic,ā a voice chimed in from somewhere behind Lance. Lanceās face screwed up in sorrow, his hands stilling on Hunkās face.
āThey didnāt kill me, Hunk,ā Lance finally said. Hunk slid his hands down from Lanceās face to his throat, pushed the high collar of the flightsuit down. There were no bruises there, no crushed windpipe.Ā His fingers traced down the front of Lanceās flightsuit until he got to Lanceās chest, then pressed his palms flat against it.
Solid, and whole.
āYouāre okay,ā Hunk breathed. More tears slipped down his cheeks, and Lance thumbed those away, too.
āIām more than okay,ā Lance confirmed.Ā āIām right here.ā He was there, his heartbeat steady beneath Hunkās hands. He was whole, and he was real, and he was alive.
He was alive.
Hunkās fingers curled into Lanceās flightsuit and he wept.
