I just wanna dedicate this post to all the people, writers included, that said that Shiro couldnt pilot black post S6 because he was down an arm and wouldn't be able to pilot her one handed
She slowly made her way around, staring out the cockpit. Where was the courage she needed to sit down now that she needed it the most? Her heart was beating hard and fast, aching. Hollow. Tears dripped down her cheeks. "He was our heart," Allura said. He certainly had been hers. "How am I supposed to—" Black nudged at her mind. A heartbeat is made up of two beats, the Lion seemed to say. Not one. Allura sat down, and gripped the controls. She took a steadying breath. She wasn't supposed to replace him. She was supposed to finish them, as the words left her lips. "And I am the second."
I mean... I could be nice and post a Lion Soul sequel teaser, I suppose?
BUT HAHAHAHAHAHA NO. >:3
I have another WIP I can share, so y’all gonna get that instead.
“It’s been three quintants.” Shiro sighed, looking at the screens. They were still adrift in space. He shook his head. “We have to get back to the Castle. We need them to find us before Zarkon and the Galra do. That’s the most important thing.” He steeled himself.
“Black,” he reached his hands towards the panel, “shunt remaining energy from life support to emergency beacon.” He closed his helmet’s visor. His suit could keep him alive a little while. But, ultimately, the Black Lion was more important than he was. Voltron was more important than one single life.
I don’t want to die, but… this is just how it has to be.
He input the command.
Nothing happened.
His brow furrowed and he tried it again, in case he’d put it in wrong.
Nothing happened.
“Black. Send remaining energy to the emergency beacon.”
Still nothing. Life support continued, the emergency beacon remained off.
“Black,” he said sternly.
And with a loud roar and a sudden spinning – like he was taking a load of Gs – he was back in that strange alter-space, where everything was black and purple, like he could cross the cosmos on black, volcanic glass, where the stars were the sky, and everything was just subtly… off.
He whipped his head around, looking for Zarkon, but there was no one else here: just him and the Black Lion, sitting there implacable and silent. He reached out to feel for some other presence, but it was only the two of them.
Remembering the strange physics of this place, he kicked off the “ground” and up into the air, reaching his hand out to steady and stop himself with a hand on Black’s nose. This way they were, more or less, eye-to-eye.
“What?” he demanded. “We can’t let Zarkon get ahold of you again. You’re more important…”
