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@lionaut-blog
i say VOL, you say TAYLOR WHERE THE HECK HAVE YOU BEEN?!
well, hey there strangers! you’d be forgiven for not remembering who tf i am (it’s only been, what, two flippin’ years) but if you do remember me, you RP BUNGOU STRAY DOGS and would like to get back in touch i’m over at VOIDVEINED now.
hope to see you there!
I return from my unscheduled hiatus... as RAPUNZEL?!?!?!?!?!?!
frystsnow
❛ hey , back off . calling the guardian of fun a party pooper is an offense liable for high treason . second , it’s called service charge , my friend . ❜ finger raises in a gesture of amendment , pacing away from the other with head angled backwards enough for blue gaze to peek at the other . ❛ you can’t seriously expect me to tell you the full extent of my prowess —- though a ride in blue sounds pretty fair for iced tea . ❜
As much as he wants to believe that he’s the one dictating this setup, the guardian of fun has miles more PIZZAZZ to it than the guardian spirit of the water... and when Jack begins to walk away, he follows like a puppy. There’s no question about who holds the authority here.
❝ Deal—! Well, I mean, it’s up to Blue who she lets in... and she’s been sorta LEERY since The Nyma Incident— but you don’t look like a space pirate and I think I could take you in a fight, so it should be fine! ❞
star-wreathed
❝ Considering you literally just did the same thing right side up and
tried to PILOT the black lion, I think my skepticism is well founded.
Now. invisible tricycle yourself right on to the healing pod.
Don’t make me drag you there by the ankle. ❞
And down he flops; spine rolling parallel with the floor where he then stays— frowning up at the ceiling, limp like a child having a tantrum in a grocery store. Shiro deserves a parenting award.
❝ It’s a unicycle, tricycles are for babies... ❞ He mumbles, before breathing out a sigh.
❝ —What if I go lie down on the couch instead...? ❞
lnstinctive
Subconsciously Keith mirrors the petulant expression on Lance’s face, adding to the childish attitude by crossing his arms - though THIS might be more in part to keep himself from SHOVING Lance. Believe him, he’s TEMPTED.
It becomes ESPECIALLY difficult to resist when Lance GIVES an apology, but certainly doesn’t seem to MEAN it. A tick in his jaw, and Keith grinds his teeth together, brows furrowing—and he SNARLS before answering, tone laced with VITRIOL.
“Because HUNK is a NICE GUY.”
HUNK didn’t seem to H A T E him, to combat him at EVERY AVAILABLE MOMENT—and honestly, what the fuck did Keith DO ??? Ever since the beginning Lance had been HOSTILE, and no matter how well they ADVANCED together, they somehow always ended up back H E R E - bickering like a couple of BRATS.
This is Keith’s fucking team, too— he has EVERY RIGHT to be here, but Lance sometimes seems DETERMINED to keep him O U T, to make him feel UNWELCOME, and he’s REALLY starting to get SICK of it.
The mention of ALLURA and her initial reaction inspires Keith into finally uncrossing his arms, fists clenched down at his sides, and he just BARELY keeps from stomping his foot.
“Allura had her reasons!” He shoots back, and although he didn’t LIKE her reasons, he could understand where she was coming from. Hence why he hadn’t PUSHED interactions with her, granting her time to overcome her issues herself; LANCE, on the other hand…
“She wasn’t acting that way just to be an ASS.”
Without missing a beat, Lance retaliates with two stubbornly folded arms of his own. The way he sees it, Keith is mocking him— but two can play at that game. It’s the way the red Paladin holds himself... ripe with rebellion; an air of superiority swathing him like a kingly robe, that makes Lance want to just... just scream.
And then Keith has to go and open his mouth.
He can’t help the sharp bark of laughter that wrenches its way out of him; an ugly, acidic thing that burns all the way up. Keith’s not wrong— at least not about that first bit. Hunk is a nice guy, and Allura did have her reasons. But that’s not why he can feel himself steaming like a kettle.
Keith thinks he’s acting like this just because he CAN.
He shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. The Lance he has introduced to the other Paladins is bubbly and scarcely upset by anything— so it makes sense for Keith to assume that he’s about as deep as a puddle. Still, he’s OFFENDED... but he’s also too invested in his character to think about adopting a more honest role. He’s not even sure he remembers who he was before he started putting on a show. Hurt him before he hurts you was a good precaution in THEORY; but since Keith’s Galra genes came to light, it feels like the red Paladin has bonded with everyone but him. More than ever, he can see what he’s missing— and you bet he’s bitter about the hole he has dug himself into.
❝ Who says I don’t have my reasons?? Trust me, dude— I’d rather be chillin’ in dead space than standing here, fighting with you. I’m not doing this for FUN. ❞
kittcnrose
‘ what the hell did you just say ? ‘
vexed appellations pour past SNEERED BROWS ; it was bad enough that nerves remained AFLAME ! ! ! ( rough training sessions tend to take a certain toll , mingled in with SLEEPLESS NIGHTS was practically a recipe for a SNAPPY WAR MACHINE . )
clipped tone softens , REELING BACK from the AUTO IRE PRESET that’s been long embedded into her system ; instead , lithe digits busy themselves with assorting strayed locks , brows quirking all the while .
‘ that wasn’t english —- right ? ‘
`✧ ｡ » @lionaut !
❝ —tan feo que hizo un grito de cebolla y—... huh? ❞
And, QUIZNAK, he did it again— a momentary lapse in orientation that, had he been back home, nobody would’ve batted an eye at. He and his family would slip in and out English with such ease it was as if they’d crafted a hybridized language of their own. But here—? Here, no matter how well he articulates it, he may as well be speaking in tongues. It's a stab of homesickness to the gut; something that does little to improve his already FOUL mood.
Perhaps this is what he gets for bad-mouthing Red’s Paladin.
❝ It— no, I— aarghh! What I’m trying to say is that there’s no way Keith’s getting an apology outta me; especially when he’s too chicken to ask for one himself! ❞
saiichii
“ Not sure why you need to, but yeah. It’s gonna be just like your armor, though. Nothing special. ” Truly, the armor was as EXACT a replica as he could manage to create without infusing whatever ‘ magic ’ the real paladin suits had. As fingers edged closer to a certain button, Hiro clutched the armor to his chest.
“ Bad idea. That’ll electrify a bunch of contact pads. They’re one of the weapons I built into the suit. And……since you don’t know where they are, you’ll probably, uh, get ZAPPED. ” Despite the pieces of armor piled high in his arms, he still managed to put a finger to his chin.
“ But dude, a chef-bot is a SICK idea! I’ll have to remember that one, ” he replied, grinning enthusiastically. When they got back to Earth, he was definitely going to try it.
For a moment more, that finger HOVERS as its puppeteer wonders if satiating his curiosity is worth the electrocution, before shrinking back. If it weren’t that, since becoming a Paladin, he has already been electrocuted three times (and knows that it’s NOT as funny as it looks in cartoons), he might’ve just pressed the button anyway.
❝ Nothing special? So you mean it’s not, y’know, alive or anything? ❞
He’d love to hook this kid up with everything he knows about quintessence. With Hiro and Hunk’s engineering skills and Pidge’s scientific know-how, who knows what technological marvels the three young architects could invent then. But can they really trust him—? Lance trusts him... but he has a history of being wrong about people.
❝ Maybe... ❞ Cough. ❝ ...Maybe if you... talk to the Princess... she’ll be able to point you in the right direction... or something... ❞
longlocked
“ Really? Well, Lance, Paladin of Voltron,a blue lion and defender of blah - can you do different kinds of braids? ” She’s grinning from ear to ear as a hand extends expectantly. “ Okay, how about we share the Skittles, I let you braid my hair and you can explain what blah blah blah means! ”
Playing it cool was never an option. He admires the bachelors that can navigate their way through the singles scene with little more than a flirtatious wink, but pretending that there aren’t butterflies FLUTTERING in his stomach is just not his style. With him, it’s all or nothing... and, for once, it looks like he's in with a shot.
❝ You bet I can, beautiful. It’s a date. ❞ Without missing a beat, he settles their negotiation by dropping his riches into her palm— before jumping back with a squeal.
❝ Y— you know there’s a, uh... chameleon on your shoulder... right?? ❞
ctoile
She isn’t UNAWARE OF THE WAY HE BLUSHES, one of her eyebrows twitching upwards. This isn’t how she expected to SPEND HER DAY, but if he was going to try and play her, then she’d be more than willing to play him back. “Four of me? Quadruple vision… that’s no good, Lance, I’m afraid I’ll have to take you to MY CHAMBERS. I have some little things that’ll set that straight right away.”
One arm moves to thrust his over her shoulders (despite the height difference), dragging him away from the others whilst BARKING AN ORDER to do without her. Allura had plenty of other things to tend to at that moment.
“If you really did catch FEMNAK, then you’re going to need much more than sleep. Medicine won’t help either way,” her lips are curling up slightly, and she takes a deep breath, “a woman’s kiss is said to be the FASTEST KNOWN TREATMENT for the disease. And if we don’t figure something out now, then you could DIE within a matter of TICKS.”
Allura pulled her hair out from under his arm, snow-white and GLOWING in the translucent blue that coated the walls, and she passed him the SOFTEST SMILE IMAGINABLE. With her intentions only meant to FLUSTER LANCE, her body mimicked, moving one hand down to his waist to get a better grip on him.
❝ I think that’s for the best, I don’t feel—... wait, what?? ❞
The reaction isn’t immediate— but once his brain reboots from its short-circuit, the theatrics of it does not disappoint. Eyes wide, pupils blown, it’s a wonder his jaw doesn’t dislocate given how broadly it swings open. With a strong staccato beat vibrating every rib in his chest, all the blood in his body POOLS in his cheeks... and from then on he doesn’t make sense of much at all.
My chambers... more than sleep... a woman’s kiss... the important bits register on a primitive level, but it’s not until her arm comes haloing around his shoulders, and then his waist, that he rockets back down to whatever galaxy they’re speeding through at the time. Lance will boast that he’s quite the suave character when it comes to FLIRTING— and, usually, he is. But quiznak help him if he’s ever on the receiving end of fluttering lashes and words sweet enough to give him cavities.
And he’s here— floundering like he has never spoken to a girl in his life; sweating bullets and sure that he can’t get any less attractive— when she smiles.
He’s going to pass out.
❝ ...’s it DIZZY in here or is it just me...? ❞
lnstinctive
T H A T struck something— where at first Keith had been merely BOTHERED by Lance’s teasing, it now became a real ISSUE; the whole GALRA reveal wasn’t one he was FOND of. Coming to terms with the fact he was part ALIEN was a lot less enjoyable than a younger Keith from years ago might have daydreamed, especially when it meant he could be tied to the same species trying to overtake the ✧⋆✩UNIVERSE✩⋆✧ .
GRANTED, all signs pointed to his Galran predecessor being part of the Blade of Marmora, but S T I L L—
it’s a lot to process, and not quite easy to ACCEPT, and yet here’s Lance turning it into a JOKE.
“Shut up, Lance. There isn’t going to be any ‘ALIEN PUBERTY.’
I think.”
Keith snaps at him, and all it does is spur him on. His jaw protrudes forward— clenches and slips right into POUT TERRITORY as their banter deteriorates into something much less friendly. Not that he’s complaining. After the Galra bombshell dropped, Shiro had pulled him aside to ask him to be a bit milder with Keith— to which Lance had given Shiro his guarantee and hidden how insulted, not to mention patronized it made him feel (because of course he’s not going to bully Keith while he’s coming to terms with it all... believe it or not, Keith is his FRIEND). And he’d kept his word for as long as he could... too long, and he desperately needs to vent. It just sucks that Keith has wound up in the FIRING LINE.
❝ SooooOoOoOorry. ❞ He sing-songs; all pyrotechnic energy and about as apologetic as a punch to the face.
❝ How come Hunk’s allowed to JOKE about it, but when I do you’re all prickly—?? The Princess may as well have put you in quarantine with how much she IGNORED YOU, and you didn’t snap at her once! ❞
😴 give me thi s pls
Send ‘😴’ To Fall Asleep In My Muse’s Arms (no longer accepting)
or send 😴 + reverse for a sleepy lance!
For all the high-tech, rock-solid architecture the Castle Ship boasts, the walls between their bedrooms are surprisingly THIN. It’s a precaution, the Princess tells him— so that, if any of the rooms’ occupants are attacked it won’t go unnoticed... but Lance thinks that they just spent too much of their budget on the weird ALTEAN POOL. Although, in their defense, he’s sure the rooms were not designed to permanently hold the Paladins of Voltron… not Paladins that are this loud. Whether it’s Pidge swearing at something electronic, Hunk snoring, Shiro grunting through a set of push-ups, or Lance singing Shakira at the top of his lungs, there is almost some sort of noise percolating through the corridor. Lance would say that Keith is the quietest one of them all (simply because the red Paladin is scarcely ever in his room) if it weren’t for the nights that he wakes up screaming.
Tonight was one of those nights.
—And so here he finds himself; sitting side by side with Keith on a bed that is not his own, running his mouth about everything from his EX-GIRLFRIENDS to bios of all the characters that star in The Office and celebrities that he knows have had work done. At first, he wasn’t sure his anecdotes were working… wasn’t sure that he should even be here at all because nightmares are Shiro’s territory, and maybe he’s just sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. But Shiro is gone and Keith had held him as he bawled his eyes out not even a week before. He owes it to the red Paladin— to his friend— to at least try to do the same.
He has since been distracting Keith for twenty minutes— bolstered by the slow relaxation of the his breathing pattern—and he’s midway through a story about the time he and his family went on vacation to Disney Land, when Keith’s head drops onto his shoulder.
❝ —'Cause, c’mon; who didn’t have a crush on Tinkerbell?? My parents can’t blame me f—... ❞
And maybe he should be insulted, but he’s too relieved to see that Keith is sleeping soundly again... even if it means that now he’s pinned here. With NO CHOICE but to stay where it’s soft and safe and indulgently warm. Very slightly, he relocates the two of them— nuzzles deeper into the nest of pillows that’d formed around their bodies before shutting his eyes; a smile on his lips.
Both literally and figuratively, it’s about time Keith started to lean on him.
😴
Send ‘😴’ To Fall Asleep In My Muse’s Arms (accepting!)
or send 😴 + reverse for a sleepy lance!
He’s relieved when Keith passes out. Sure, Keith had stopped talking to him a while ago… but at least now he knows the ibuprofen that he found in the bottom of his backpack (ibuprofen that’d been there since before they became Voltron; ibuprofen that had long since passed its expiration date) is working well enough for him to get some rest. His breathing is smoother, coming in soft puffs against his neck… and, for the first time since Keith got HURT, Lance releases control of muscles that had been coiled up like springs.
He sits back, cautious not to jostle the Paladin sleeping on his shoulder, and lets out a sigh— lets his eyes slip from the granite shadows beneath Keith’s eyes to the bandages around his abdomen; to the dying fire that will only be able to generate warmth for an hour more, to the mass of vegetation surrounding them (that, as dense as it is, still has him feeling exposed), before his eyes come to rest upon an alien sky. There are no stars. Up there, the clouds are swirling like a VORTEX— and just like that, before he can even think about relocating to dryer ground, the sky opens up.
Cursing under his breath, he pulls Keith in close, sheltering him from the downpour with as much of his body as he can. The others won’t be able to rescue them in this… and, to make matters worse, a few minutes later the fire fizzles out.
After that, it is very… very… very dark.
Lance is too old to be scared of the dark; too old to CRY and refuse to go to bed without a nightlight or a galaxy of glowing stars stuck to his ceiling… but he can’t help the way it seems to paralyze his chest; like there’s an elephant sitting right in the middle of it. Forcing a shaky breath, he wraps an arm around Keith, presses his face into the red Paladin’s dampening hair— this time, more for his own comfort than Keith’s— and closes his own eyes as they start to prickle.
Morning can’t come soon enough.
😴 have a sleepy keef
Send ‘😴’ To Fall Asleep In My Muse’s Arms (accepting!)
or send 😴 + reverse for a sleepy lance!
Of course, it was only a matter of time before Pidge rewired a bunch of Altean gadgetry into a TV— something that would prove to be a godsend when it comes to keeping them all sane. Without an aerial of intergalactic strength, it wasn’t like they could pick up on any alien TV dramas (much to Lance’s dismay) but the hard drive she has full of movies would be enough to keep them occupied for at least a year. And so, armed with enough pirated flicks to get them all locked up for the rest of their lives, team Voltron was set for some serious R&R.
The movie marathon was Lance’s idea.
They had to christen the new TV somehow, an what better way to get in some PALADIN BONDING than reminisce over a bunch of classics? His intentions really were innocent at the time… but as the night wore on and the TV’s audience filed off to bed one by one— until it was only himself and Keith on the sofa— it became less about the movies and more about who could stay awake the longest.
They’re midway through ALIEN VS. PREDATOR when it happens.
Lance can feel his eyelids fluttering; gritty as if they’re full of sand, and he’s close to giving up when a weight on his shoulder— one that sags under the burden of gravity before flopping down into his lap, sends ten coffees worth of adrenaline shooting through his veins. VICTORY doesn’t taste like he thought it would. There, sprawled across his legs, is Keith— hair slightly askew, lashes casting inky shadows on ivory skin… fast asleep. What’s even more surprising is that Lance’s first inclination is not to push Keith off. There’s a chuckle swelling in his chest (one that he bites the inside of his cheek against) as he smiles down at him; letting the action unfold on the TV without looking up. With all the frown lines smoothed out of his brow, Keith looks almost cute… and Lance would’ve let him stay put if a yawn didn’t remind him that he’s TIRED as well.
He pulls out his phone and snaps a photo before he goes about gingerly maneuvering the Red Paladin back up to sit.
❝ Aaaalright, Mullet. ❞ An arm around Keith holds him steady. ❝ You win, DROOL is where I draw the line. It’s about time we get our beauty sleep, mm? Quiznak knows you need it. ❞
FASHION/APPEARANCE STATS
BOLD what applies to your muse
BODY. Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Toned thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs. Skinny arms. Toned arms. Soft arms. Muscular arms. Toned stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby Stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame ( 5 ft 4 or shorter ). Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Thick ass. Thighbrows. Small waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Broad shoulder. Narrow shoulder. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.
HEIGHT ( click here to convert to feet ). Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180 cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2 m. Taller than 2 m.
SKIN. Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Soft.
EYES. Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Green. Gold. Hazel. Doe-eyed. Almond. Close-set. Wide-set. Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.
HAIR. Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight. Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length. Buzz cut. Undercut. Bald. Jaw length. Mohawk. White. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blondette. Ombre. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Ginger. Auburn. Dyed red. Dyed any “unnatural color”. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows
TATTOOS / PIERCINGS. Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. One tattoo. A few here and there (two tattoos). Multiple. No tattoo. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercing. Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Tragus piercing. Angelbites. Labret. Stretches out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). No piercing.
COSMETICS. Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick.Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Never wears make-up.
SCENT. Floral. Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood.
CLOTHES. Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Tight/formfitting dress. Cardigans. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports t-shirt. Sweatpants. Tank top. Fur. Faux fur. Leather. Designer. High street. Online stores. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Sun dress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. Highslit dress/skit. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater. Sweater vest. Khaki pants. Suit. Hoodie. Harem pants. Basketball shorts. Boxers. Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sports bra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Silk. Lace. Velvet. Chemise. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Black. Dark colors.
SHOES. Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Bare feet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes.
TAGGED BY: @viictorcm thanks luv! (and a big congratulations on your recent milestone! ♡) TAGGING: everyone w/ blue undies :))
redbonded
He’s heard Lance laugh before. They’ve all heard Lance laugh before. Planets in other GALAXIES have probably heard Lance laugh. It’s loud and big-mouthed and ENORMOUS —- and Keith … likes it — ? Despite the noise, it doesn’t induce the pulsing he feels in his head when Lance rambles about their rivalry, or when he make a reference Keith doesn’t understand. It’s something Keith feels he can SHARE with the Lance. AND the red paladin chooses not to find anything wrong with it, because, well, they were having FUN. And he’s not against getting along with his team.
HIS TEAM — Keith steals a glance towards Lance, lounging at equal height with his familiar, bubbly disposition. The last time Keith thought he’d have a team of his own, and really make TRUE on that kind of a promise, was during his time at the Garrison.
Now Pidge, Lance, Hunk: THEY were a team. And back at the Garrison, Keith was 0 for two: no team, no Shiro, and it just went downhill from there — maybe Keith LET it.
But Lance digs deeper into his slippery, wet grave, and Keith’s barely given any time to mull over his failings. A tear rips through his side as another wave of laughter sends him folding in on himself. His ribs hurt, muscles squeezing in a way that exercising never called for. Instead, they ache each time his laughter is too BIG, like Lance’s, to contain. Keith urges his spine straight, exposing a smirk that carves into his cheek.
❝ I think my chances are better than yours. You ‘could’ve DIED’, right? ❞ The satisfaction that stretches from ear to ear remains put, adamant only up until Keith’s stopped laughing long enough to REVIEW the situation rather than simply press rewind on Lance’s tumble. It did look like a hard fall. His cheeks weigh down on the corners of his mouth, grin gradually shrivelling. It’s still there, hopeful and a little giddy, but with enough room for concern to push his tongue out and lick at his lips.
❝ Could always take a trip to one of the healing pods if you need a boost. ❞ The arch in his brow betrays the concern driving his words.
Lance’s laughter is as adaptive as a chameleon and he has a laugh for every situation; a devilish snicker, a flirtatious giggle, a ROBOTIC chuckle for when he’s just not in the mood, and a hiccup-snort for when Hunk tells him the story of how he once puked on Iverson’s shoes. But this laugh is something else. It’s the one reserved only for when something is really, really FUNNY— which doesn’t completely make sense because all he did was slip... but blame the sleep deprivation (and the monotony of the last few hours that must’ve short-circuited his brain). And maybe he forgot how good it feels to laugh like this as well. With Galra attacks on the rise, the vibe among Paladins simply wasn’t the belly-laugh sort... and Lance is out of practice.
It hurts... but it’s a warm ache; a THERAPEUTIC one, similar to getting knot massaged out— and he can’t bring himself to put a lid on the laughter that shakes his whole body. At this point, he’s not even sure if Keith is still laughing with him. All he knows is that he’s on his back, at the mercy of gravity with giggles that fill the air like a strong cologne and FIZZ like the bubbles of a carbonated drink, and that Shiro had better look out because he is going to have some serious abs after this. It’s only when Keith speaks to him that he breathes out an indulgently long, satisfied sigh and wipes the moisture from his eyes.
❝ ...Wha? ❞
He’s eighty percent sure Keith is taking a stab at him, but he’s in too good a mood to bite. And he’d like to preserve said good mood; which means that he’s definitely not going to get in one of those pods. He’s been in there twice; and both times he’d left feeling almost as ROTTEN as when he got in. The dehydration, mixed with the stiffness of being too cold, too tired, and the vertigo that comes with being both hungry and mildly nauseous at the same time is uncomfortable to say the least— much more uncomfortable than putting up with a bruised elbow.
❝ —Nuh-uh. Nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh-uh. No way, man— nice try. Not unless I’m seconds from DEATH. ❞
And he rubs at the joint before FLEXING it as proof that the cartilage there is nothing more than a little swollen. He’ll pop some space ibuprofen and that’ll be that... though, now that he looks around him, maintaining that good mood might be more of an uphill battle than he thought.
❝ Ay, dios mío... this is gonna take forever to mop up... ❞
Send '😴' To Fall Asleep In My Muse's Arms
