PSA to fic readers, it is so hard to freak a fic writer out with your comments. we are just as crazy about the fic as you are.
tell me you love it. tell me it made you slam your laptop shut. tell me you brought it up at your college lecture about kink. key smash in all caps. quote the passage that made you think. i promise, we’ll love it.
we spend hours thinking about it, writing it, editing it. there is no such thing as over enthusiasm when you’re talking about our fics to us. we are sooooo weird about them, i assure you. you are just matching my freak. the freak bar is already set so high. feel no anxiety about enjoying something and letting the creator know.
This is my submission to @klance-microfics-2026 March 24th prompt, “Please.” Thanks so much for hosting!! This was a blast to write!! (:
TWs: Mentions of death, mild gore, blood.
“Please” | 992 words
Six letters.
They haunt Keith, trailing behind him like a shadow. Each syllable blares in its absence. The sentiment is familiar, but the syntax is entirely foreign. Six letters. One word.
At ten years old, he doesn't say it. Dirt scuffs his knees. Daylight warms the grass around him, a bit too hot to be comfortable. The plaque atop his father's grave glints in the sun.
He doesn't say it. He begs, of course. Pleads with a god he's never quite believed in. His fingers fist the dirt, squeezing as if it were his father's hand.
But the word catches in his throat.
"Just—" he cries, scrubbing a soiled hand beneath his eyes. "I need him."
If there is a god, he obviously doesn't care for the whims of an orphan boy from Korea.
At twenty-two, the word sticks like molasses.
"Would it kill you to say 'please?'" Lance whines one day. He's making the cup of coffee that Keith hadn't so much asked for as demanded.
Lance is funny like that. He'll poke and prod and complain, but when it comes down to it, he cares so deeply that Keith can't begin to wrap his head around it.
"With a cherry on top?" Keith snarks. He folds himself further over the kitchen table, feeling a lot like a doll with its joints yanked from their sockets.
Lance sets the mug beside his head. "Tch. Ungrateful.”
"You still made it," Keith points out. He turns back to the battle plans sprawled out before him.
"Yeah," Lance scoffs. "'Cause you look like shit."
"You really know how to make a guy feel special," Keith mutters darkly.
"It's a talent."
"It's a nuisance."
Lance lets out a breath that might be a laugh. Might be a sigh. He puts a hand on Keith's shoulder. "I'm serious, dude. Maybe you should take a—"
"I don't need a break!" Keith shouts. It comes out so sharply that he winces.
Lance's hand remains unmoving: a solid, grounding pressure. He raises a brow. "Please?"
Six letters. One syllable. Keith melts like a cube of ice tossed into a fire pit.
Through gritted teeth, Keith says, "Fine."
"Um. Really?"
"Whatever." Keith pushes his chair back. His bones are a little wobbly. There's a sort of hollow feeling in his gut, carved out from the way 'please' sat on Lance's tongue.
He doesn't think about it.
The next time he contends with 'please,' he's vomiting up so many words that he hardly even knows what he's saying.
"Lance?" He asks shakily.
Blood sticks between his fingers, tacky and cold. The whole cave smells like pennies. It's so pungent that Keith can taste it.
"Keith, report," Shiro sputters through the comms. "Did you find Lance?"
Keith hardly even remembers making it through the mouth of the cave. It's all blood and rocks, a bullet hole instead of vital organs.
"Shiro—" Keith manages, a hand pressed to Lance's gut. "He's hurt. Bad. He—he needs a pod. I can't—" His throat closes around whatever nonsense was about to pour out. Years of training kick in. His body moves like a corpse reanimated. He's a creature of pure instinct, fingers twitching as he presses them to the place where Lance's pulse should be. "Please, please, please—" he whispers under his breath.
"I'm on my way," comes Shiro's voice.
There isn't a pulse. There isn't a pulse. It pangs somewhere so deep that Keith feels numbness encroach around it. Like the moment between tripping and hitting the concrete—the split-second that seems to stretch on forever.
He starts CPR. Because that's what you do. His body moves without his mind's permission. Then—there's Shiro and Allura, and some sort of Altean magic. Time warps, almost as though Lance were the thing holding it together.
It isn't until a few vargas later, watching the blue glow of the pod, that Keith hits the concrete. He plants himself firmly beside Allura, narrowly swallowing down a sob.
Here's the thing: it's not really the word that scares him. It's the sentiment. The universe has not, notoriously, responded kindly to his pleas. There's a terror in it, like the act of begging is its own damnation.
Keith has always wanted too much. When Lance wakes up, Keith makes sure that he's far, far away. No matter how irrational it is, he can't shake the feeling that the less he wants Lance, the safer Lance will be.
So he makes himself scarce.
When Lance walks into a room, Keith walks out.
Every sparring offer gets shot down. Every cup of coffee is left untouched.
Keith isn't sure how long he thought he'd be able to get away with it, but he'd been banking on at least a movement or two. Unfortunately, it barely takes Lance two cycles to corner Keith in the hallway.
"What the fuck's your problem?" Lance snaps, rushing in front of Keith to block his path.
Keith shrugs. "Good morning to you, too.”
"No, no—" Lance pokes his chest, crowding in close. "You don't get to play dumb. What's wrong with you? What'd I do?"
Chastised, Keith can't bring himself to meet Lance's gaze. "Nothing," he mumbles honestly.
Lance makes an aggravated sound, hands clenching at his sides. "Please? I just—I thought we were…I dunno. Friends, or whatever."
Keith cringes, but he can't find the words to respond.
After a moment of silence, Lance deflates. "Fine. It's—whatever. Don't tell me."
He turns to leave, and Keith feels actually, physically nauseous. Without thinking, he grabs Lance by the wrist. "Wait—"
Lance flashes him a hurt look.
"I don't—I'm not good at this kind of thing. Just…stay?" The words come haltingly, unnatural in his mouth. They're too soft. But Lance looks like he's waiting. Waiting for what? Keith swallows past the molasses. He's only ever had one card up his sleeve. "Please?"
my submission to @missmullet ‘s 800 WTIYS!! your art is sooooo amazing, thank you so much for hosting this event!! congrats on 800. i hope u enjoy!! : D
3k words | rated T
summary:
Desert air burns Lance's throat. It always has. Unlike Cuba, Arizona's heat is the kind that stings going down. It makes you feel heavy, pressed into the ground by the sun's force.
Even in the fading daylight, heat soaks through Lance's jeans.
Keith's shack looks almost the same as it did seven years ago. Bobbles hang from the porch, the kind that are designed to blow in the breeze. There's no wind, so they dangle limply, framing the wooden door in a cacophony of chaos.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
AHHAHXHDBWHW IM SOSOSO GLAD U ENJOYED!! ur art slays SO hard, i had such a fun time writing it!!
u have noooo idea how excited i was when i got this tumblr notif AAAAHH. don’t even have the words to express how much serotonin this gave me shshdhwb!!!
my submission to @missmullet ‘s 800 WTIYS!! your art is sooooo amazing, thank you so much for hosting this event!! congrats on 800. i hope u enjoy!! : D
3k words | rated T
summary:
Desert air burns Lance's throat. It always has. Unlike Cuba, Arizona's heat is the kind that stings going down. It makes you feel heavy, pressed into the ground by the sun's force.
Even in the fading daylight, heat soaks through Lance's jeans.
Keith's shack looks almost the same as it did seven years ago. Bobbles hang from the porch, the kind that are designed to blow in the breeze. There's no wind, so they dangle limply, framing the wooden door in a cacophony of chaos.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
would love to hear your thoughts on yuri!!! on ice as a competitive skater yourself
omg hi i actually love this question so much!!
okok SO. little background about me just for context:
first of all, i’m in the U.S, so this is U.S. system. also, i never competed at the level Yuri did. i know they explain it in the show, but i’ll give a little rundown here.
There are qualifying and non qualifying competitions. Yuri was competing in what’s called qualifying, and then he had to…well…qualify! For international events.
There’s also a more casual kind of competition called club competition. This is mostly for fun, and sometimes just to test programs if you want to compete in qualifiers.
(you can also compete if your college has a team, but this is separate i think. don’t quote me on that.)
I quit (holy cow) almost five years ago now. i had just passed my juvenile moves in the field test, and was aiming for juvenile FS. Juvenile FS is where you become truly competitive—that is, you can qualify for regionals, which is a qualifying competition. (this sounds redundant but it is what it is.)
ANYWAY. point is, when i say i was competitive, i mean i did club competition. however, at the time i quit, i had landed my axel and a double sal, and was going for a double loop. if i had landed that jump, i would have been officially at a level where i could attempt qualifiers.
back to the show now.
overall, i was incredibly impressed with the level of realism. none of the skating animation struck me as weird/off, which was really cool! anyway, here are a few highlights:
1) children!! shouldn’t!! be!! doing!! quads!!
one thing that i particularly loved was when Viktor challenged Yurio not to do quads in juniors competition. AGAIN, i know they mention it, but i really want to emphasize it because this is actually a really big problem in the skating community.
it’s incedibly bad for them, and yet coaches often push kids to work on them anyway. it can literally stunt their growth.
2) the ages/age cutoff!
Again, I know they mention it in the show, but this is soooo real. Yuri, at 23, was at a completely reasonable age for retirement. the fact that he was competing against people way younger than him is incredibly realistic. skating is the kind of sport you have to be brought up with.
even at 14, if i’d gone to regionals, i probably would have been one of the oldest ones there. the people that someday become genuinely competitive will be there at 10-12.
many of the kids i skated with were actually homeschooled to train for skating. skating is hardcore.
3) that moment after you compete where you’re just…catching your breath
small thing but SO realistic. i actually can’t describe the feeling it’s so exhilarating. by the second half of the program, you really do usually feel exhausted. skating is a CRAZY endurance sport.
when i was training, we did tons of endurance/strength training off ice to train for competition season.
ballet lessons!
another small detail but very real. every single ice skater takes ballet lessons, i promise. sometimes you even do what’s called “on-ice” ballet lessons!!
that’s where a ballet instructor stands off ice and you literally do ballet on ice. i always hated ballet actually, but i still have some of the flexibility from it, so that’s cool.
5) so…why did i quit?
in light of the recent popularity of figure skating with the olympics, and simply to put this out there for the yuri!! on ice fandom: it’s…actually incredibly hard to be a queer figure skater.
it’s hard to be any kind of weird, actually.
skating is one of those sports that’s eons behind. when i was skating, i felt like shit about myself constantly. i loved the skating itself, but i could never do it the way i wanted to.
i always had to skate to “proper” music, and anything unconventional was immediately shot down. i had to wear dresses and tights, and sparkly makeup, and if i didn’t, then i was being difficult.
which is why this year’s olympics is so important to me. a Spanish guy went out there and did Minions!!! and the U.S. team—gosh, i know it might not seem that way, but they were so unconventional in so many ways. AHHH!!
i genuinely wish i’d had skaters like this to look up to, because if i had, i’m not so sure i would’ve quit.
that’s all to say, i adored watching yuri!! on ice, and i would love to watch it again! :D
800 FOLLOWERS DTIYS/WTIYS CELEBRATION
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this is a crazy milestone!! thank you so much for following and enjoying klance with me! this fandom means a lot to me<3
follow the rules in the slides if you wanna join - no deadline or competition, i'm just excited to see your interpretations of the piece!
thank you so much to @cookietails for the help with the slides! i think i might be in love with canva now haha
I’ve been thinking about this for literal years so I’m just gonna scream it into the void
Lance McClain has lived rent free in my head since the show aired. He was the writers’ “just put him in situations” oc. I don’t think a single thing that gives him any ounce of positive emotion makes it to the end of the show.
He gets to be a fighter pilot? Constantly reminded that hes just filling Keith’s empty spot and they didn’t choose him on purpose
His insecurities due to that finally mitigated by blue choosing him out of the whole group? Lol nope the second the others tell him to switch blue locks him out (he never gets her back)
At least he has his best friends to confide in? They stop talking to him other than when it’s necessary
Rescues his hero and gets to be on a team with him at least? Shiro says exactly one nice thing to him and then they pretty much never interact again
Allura dates him for not even a week and she ends up atomized across the universe
Honorable mentions just to hammer in the point more:
He exploded like episode 3
Almost thrown into space with no suit
Told a live studio audience his rival was “the future” only to get “I don’t want to be here with him” in return
ACTUALLY DIED FOR REAL and NOBODY BUT THE ONE WHO BROUGHT HIM BACK EVER KNEW EVER she never told anyone at all like not even on accident she just kept it a secret for some reason I don’t even think he got checked out afterwards they just gave him a power cycle and sent him back to the frontlines they literally have technology that can scan vitals with pinpoint accuracy and they just let him walK OFF DYING-
WAH THIS IS SO CUTE!!! shit you not these are the same ref pics i’ve been using to draw them for like five years. I LOVE UR STYLE DHCHWBEB ITS SO SOFT.