So I have this really awful Klance AU that I’ve created where Voltron is actually a travelling circus and Lance is a tightrope walker and an acrobat… Basically the story follows immediately after Lance loses all of his self-confidence from dropping his trapeze partner during a show–so he ultimately ends up deciding to switch partners. I started writing it like a week before Season 4 came out–(which was literally the weirdest thing ever because Acrobat Lance is basically cannon now)–but I don’t know if I actually plan on uploading it because I am THE WORST writer ever. Anyway, here’s a little excerpt from it to sort of demonstrate the idea. (453 words)
Despite the tent being filled with several hundred people, not a single word was uttered as the solitary figure stepped out into the staggering spotlight. His shoulders burdened by the heavy weight of an aluminium rod, he humbly approached the platform sporting bare feet and a suit of blue sequins.
With a dazzling wave aimed in the general direction of the crowd, the boy flashed grin before relaxing his muscles and allowing his eyelids to flutter closed. Somewhere, a cacophony of strings and brass began to play. He edged closer to the tightrope, taking a breath as the audience held theirs.
And then, he walked.
Slowly at first, as if testing the line. Untrusting. Uncertain. He prodded it with the edge of his foot until apparently deciding that it was stable enough to trek. Then, as the wire gave way under his mass, his confidence blossomed in tandem with haste. He took on a rhythm so seamless that it resembled dance, attacking the line with a bewilderingly calm ferocity.
Nothing but awe could be felt in the room as the boy clad in blue silently crossed from one podium to the other. To all who watched, it appeared as though he were an ocean separated from the sea. The rod across his shoulders bobbing with his every movement was merely a buoy over cresting waves, the browned soles of his feet the sand beneath a salted brine.
One might have even argued that despite his brilliance, he somehow looked impossibly lonesome, like all the walking in the world would never bring him back to his other half. As if on cue, the music slowly claimed a more sorrowful tone—the cello whining deeper as the violin screeched higher, like they were calling for each other but just unable to reach.
Like they didn’t really belong.
No one dared blink as the tightrope walker effortlessly braved the last few steps of line, the background music droning to a gradual halt as his feet met the platform. Without a word, he set down the metal shaft and modestly bowed before the audience.
The room erupted into earth-shaking applause, though the boy never once raised his eyes to the gracious crowd. Instead, as the cheering began to waver, he softly backed toward the edge of his stage and dived off the platform, vanishing completely into the black depths below.
So quickly, the show was over.
But this story had just begun.
For somewhere in the audience, a certain knife-thrower had watched in silent admiration, eyes and mouth agape at the performance he had just witnessed. He bit down on his lip before silently disappearing to the exit, unnoticed by anyone else in the room.