keith scans

on sunday, september 17, 1967, the stones arrived in a new york studio rented by the photographer michael cooper and tried all sorts of psychedelic outfits for the photo of the their satanic majesties request album cover. the image of the cover photographed by cooper recalls the beatles’ sgt pepper’s lonely hearts club band album cover he also realised.

It was supposed to be an innocent trip to the movies– a date night because the two had been horribly busy over the last two weeks.

Keith picked Lance up around seven and was surprised to see the latter looking incredibly pale and bundled up in a coat despite the early fall temperatures.

“You’re sick,” Keith said flatly as Lance eased himself into the passenger seat. His hands gripped tightly around the wheel, but he kept his eyes trained on the brunet.

“I’m okay,” Lance said, but seconds later, he had to turn away to cough harshly into the crook of his elbow.


“I said I’m fine,” Lance muttered out tiredly as a few, weaker coughs slipped past his lips. “Yeah I’m a little sick, but I haven’t seen you in two weeks, Keith. I want to spend time with you.”

Sighing, Keith leaned toward Lance and brushed a hand against the brunet’s too warm cheek. “We can spend the night in. We don’t have to go out.”

Lance shook his head. “We agreed on a proper date night. Let’s just go. I’ll be fine.”

Keith was reluctant, but he couldn’t counter Lance’s stubbornness. He put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking spot he was in.

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another quick entry! this time for klanceweek prompt #2: sacrifice

still debating whether or not to cross-post these entries on ao3 so let me know what you think. again, you can also find these short ficlets on twitter!

day 1

This is the last thing Keith expected to happen when they landed on Gordania.

When they respond to a distress beacon, it’s usually to free people from Galran control. Occasionally, the aliens invite the team for a party or celebration, seizing any opportunity they can to boast their connections with the legendary Voltron. There have been, of course, times when the aliens try to deceive them.

But this is a whole new level of deceit.

Keith sighs and glances down at the thick coils of rope wrapped around his torso. His eyes flick up to the circle of aliens surrounding him, a race of towering people with beady black eyes and physical features similar to that of a frog. They smile at Keith, bearing rows of glimmering fangs. Currently, Keith is tied to the trunk of a tree. A tree, which is soon to be set on fire.

That’s right— Keith Kogane is about to become a human sacrifice.

“Your death will not be in vain,” the nearest alien urges. Gordanorns, that’s what they’re called. “The gods are pleased that we have chosen you.”

What does he even say to that? Keith tries to wriggle his wrists free of their restraints and winces at the pinching pain. “Are you sure the, uh, gods want someone like me?”

“Of course.” The Gordanorn holds a long stick. A tiny flame flickers at the end. “You should be honored.”

“Right, right,” Keith mutters. Another experimental tug and, nope, there’s no way he’s getting out of this. Keith is well and truly fucked.

Just as the Gordanorn lifts the “ritualistic flame,” a shout rings out over the murmurs of the crowd. “Stop!”

Surprisingly enough, the Gordanorn does as it’s told. It halts and adjusts its hold, brandishing the stick like a weapon. Inky black eyes scan the area in search of the speaker. “Who dares to interrupt this ritual? Show yourself!”

From his place on the platform, Keith can’t quite make out the identity of his rescuer. They gradually push their way to the front of the group and— seriously? There’s no mistaking the familiar suit, accented with blue plates. Even Lance’s gait is distinct enough to recognize.

“I refuse to let you sacrifice my—” Indecision flickers across Lance’s features. Keith can decipher it even from this distance. Lance sets his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. “My husband!”

Keith wonders, for a second, if the Gordanorn already lit the fire and he’s dead.

“This man is simply a fellow paladin.” The alien assumes its full height, leering down at Lance. “I will not be tricked.”

Keith tenses, unintentionally straining against the ropes. He won’t make it out of this alive. But Lance isn’t panicking and carries on as if he hasn’t just been called out.

“Oh no, we’re married alright.” Lance cups his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

Warmth floods Keith’s face. When he escapes from here, he’s totally kicking Lance’s ass. Regardless of whether he saved him.

“Uh, yeah,” Keith answers awkwardly. “I knew my… husband would come for me.”

“Oh, I’ll come for y—”

“Why don’t you tell these nice Gordanorns why they can’t burn me at the stake,” Keith interjects through gritted teeth. “Babe.”

“I was getting to that.” Lance walks over to the platform Keith is on and hoists himself up. His long legs and arms make the task look effortless. He sidles up next to the alien holding Keith’s life in its webbed hands. “You see… if you kill him, we won’t be able to form Voltron anymore.”

The Gordanorn blinks. “And?”

Dammit, Lance.

“Oh. Well, alright. That’s not the only reason,” Lance continues, undeterred. “He’s also part-Galran.”

Gasps and outraged mutterings fill the air. The Gordanorn on the platform snarls at Keith like a rabid dog. They lift the stick, flame inches away from Keith’s face, and he squeezes his eyes shut. This isn’t exactly how he planned to die, but oh well.

Keith waits for the crippling pain of being stabbed but— it never comes.

Cautiously, Keith opens his eyes. He’s met with a tousled head of chocolate brown hair. Lance is furiously slicing through the rope with what appears to be a rock, sharpened to a dangerous point. A few seconds of frantic cutting and the rope falls. Keith immediately works his way free and allows Lance to tug him off the stage.

As Keith scans the crowd, he notes the unconscious Gordanorn on the ground in front of the platform. The others stand around their fallen warrior, flailing and panicking amongst themselves. Meanwhile, Keith and Lance dive into the cover of the forest. They jump over roots and silently navigate through the trees. Lance takes the time to say, “I know, I know, we’ll talk about it when we get to Blue,” and leaves it at that.

Thankfully, the blue lion isn’t far from the village. The moment they step into the clearing, Blue crouches down, lowering their jaw to let the two crawl inside. Lance, for some reason, has yet to let go of Keith’s hand. He doesn’t until he climbs into the pilot’s seat.

Lance quickly takes control and helps Blue swerve through the branches overhead. Once they reach the treetops and effectively put enough space between themselves and the Gordanorns, Lance heaves a loud sigh of relief.

“Good riddance,” he mumbles and glances over his shoulder, shooting Keith a wobbly grin. “Sorry about the husband thing.”

“It’s alright.” Then, realization strikes Keith. “Wait, what did forming Voltron or being half-Galran have to do with us being married?”

“Well, you know, I was hoping they had at least some semblance of a heart. But that didn’t work so I had to go with the other excuses. The marriage was a failsafe, you know?”

Lance rambles away, and Keith edges closer, shaking his head. “Still not seeing a connection.”

“Just… ugh! I reacted, okay, I have no other— oh.” Lance freezes. He lifts a shaky hand to his cheek. The place Keith had just gently pressed a kiss to. “Keith…?”

“Thanks for saving me, husband.” Keith pats him on the shoulder, laughing at the way Lance startles at the touch. “I guess I can forgive you this one time.”

Never one to be outdone, Lance snorts and turns to Keith. “Whatever you say,” he answers cheekily, punctuating the sentence with an exaggerated wink, “babe.”

Oh, I’m definitely kicking his ass once we get back to the ship.

Dancing With the Stars

A Fluffy Klance One-Shot (that’s essentially just because I headcanon Lance to be a very good dancer)

Featuring very background shallura, a bit of Keith being jealous, and Lance platonic bonding with everyone because he’s my favorite.

Summary: At a celebration on a foreign planet after beating the Galra there, all the aliens are dancing, and Lance is eager to join in. He quickly makes it his goal to get the rest of his team to dance, even Keith. But Keith seems to be acting a little off… what could possibly be bothering him?

Yes I know. I suck at summaries. I don’t write that much fluff in general… it’s mostly angst and this is actually the first Voltron thing I’ve posted. Hopefully more to come?

Lance jogged his leg up and down, eyes gazing longingly at the dance floor.

The celebration was grander than most, fitting for the size of the planet they’d just freed from the corrupt Galra empire. Fast-paced music blared from every corner of the room, with no visible speakers, and countless native aliens were twirling around on the dance floor.

Allura was in the middle of a dignified discussion with the planet’s leaders, with Coran at her side as usual. She’d left the Paladins on a couch to the side of the room, ‘so they couldn’t screw anything up’ were her exact words, with a pointed look at Lance.

This, of course, did not stop the others from noticing how obviously Lance wanted to be on that dance floor, and how restless he was while sitting still.

With an amused sigh, Shiro glanced in the blue paladin’s direction. “You can dance if you want to, you know that right?”

Lance immediately shot off of the couch, his previously anxious face taken over by one of those bright smiles that seemed to light up the room.

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Sheith, Keith stole Shiro’s vest and is hiding it from him.

Done!! Thanks for the prompt! rated M probably haha

“Maybe the mice stole it,” Hunk suggested. “Aren’t they always up to something?” Coran nodded emphatically at Hunk with a mouthful of food.

Allura rolled her eyes. “They’ve been with me all day on the command deck. They’re not to blame, Coran.”

“Not this time, anyway,” Lance snidely added.

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Inktober Day 5.

I’m back on track, feeling better. :3  Can you feel the internal struggle Lance is facing?

Before anyone complains: I know they’re practically the same height. Lance is on the tips of his toes here.