I wanted to do my own take on the Xmen Evolution version of the brotherhood! Overall, I wanted to give their super suits more of a "clothes we put together" look cuz look where they live dawg I doubt mystique paid for actual suits. Here's some notes about em
Lance: based his armor off of football gear he could've taken from school and I changed his glass bowl helmet to a mask based on Makoto from P5 but also with visual callback to Dominikos. Additionally, his time with the xmen is the chance I'd see him taking to upgrade a little. (Bonus facts, I change his last name from Alvers to Alvarez cuz I #project, also bisexual n genderfluid cuz it just felt right)
Wanda: grunge clothes that she picked out herself with artistic weathering, she doesn't wanna take shit from her dad. I wanted to incorporate her crown somehow so mystical crown mask thing (she's a lesbian to me, she wants to steal kitty from Lance soooo bad)
Pietro: got hooked up by Mag for his suit it's the one nice thing he did for him (gay boy)
Toad: worker's jumpsuit and shoes he totally stole from Pietro (I do think toad is straight guys)
Fred: his fit from the show with a little more shapes to add sharpness to his design (I think hes unlabeled lowkey, he loves love but doesn't really think about labels)
Tabitha: her outfits get the advantage due to her closeness with the xmen, using her vigilante look more when she's with the brotherhood. I don't think she'd actually join in on any evil they do, a shenanigan here and there but she doesn't want a repeat of her n her dad (bi)
The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
When Lance had called Pidge to help him “Get comfortable” on his vacation, she had not expected him to give her directions to a mountain log cabin. Lance was always more of a beachfront kind of guy in her opinion.
She also wasn’t expecting the noxious miasma of stawberry scented candles to hit her smack in the face the moment she opened the door.
Or Lance to be laying sprawled out as if he’d tripped and fallen, a leg hung on the arm of a loveseat, wearing a red satin robe that was too short to be considered modest.
“Um... Hi, Pidge,” he said, an anxious smile gracing his features, “you’re early.”
Pidge nodded.
“Lance, are you trying to tell me something?”
Put a pairing in my asks and I’ll write a snippet for them
Author’s Note - This is a fic from my AO3 that I’m posting here, so, I don’t really know how this goes. Feedback is extremely appreciated!!!
Prompt - I want you to take me dancing
Masterlist
You looked around in the bar from where you sat, it was definitely a hole in the wall kinda place. A poker game went on in the corner and you asked the bartender for a cocktail. A few drunken people danced next to the jukebox and a part of you wanted to join them but you decided against it.
The bar wasn't any ordinary place. It was filled with people of all sorts of abilities. It was more of a hideaway from the world for your kind. Mutants.
Your powers were a bit on the dodgy side as you were still learning to get a handle on them; you could lose control when you got really emotional. You sipped your drink quietly and played with a flame on the tip of your finger. Pyrokinesis. That was your ability. The one thing you liked about this cursed talent was the way your eyes would glow with the flames.
"That's a pretty thing you can do, sweetheart," A guy leaned against the stool next to you, "I'm Lance," He extended his hand but you only looked down at it and turned back to your drink
"Come on, pretty lady," Lance pushed, "I'm tryin' to rock your world,"
"Not interested," You sighed and took another sip
"Why? You here with someone?" He leaned closer to you and half of you wanted to burn off his eyebrows but you stayed calm
"Like I said," You repeated, "Not interested,"
"Mon cher," A voice spoke loudly, "You didn't tell me you were coming tonight,"
You turned and were met with the most stunning set of eyes you'd ever seen, "I forgot to call,"
"You know her?" Lance's eyes flicked between you and the red-eyed man
"Oh, she's Gambit's favourite dame," Remy said softly as he sat down beside you
"Sorry man," Lance raised his hands in surrender, "I didn't know,"
"Quite the reputation," You chuckled as you turned to face the man
"Name's Remy LeBeau," He said with a wink, "You can call me Gambit,"
"Now what makes you think I'd call you anything?" You smirked
"Because Cherie," He smiled, "Gamit ain't no quitter,"
"Do you always talk in third person?" You laughed
"Only when I'm talking to a étourdissant femme," Remy said softly and you couldn't help but be charmed but you rolled your eyes at his words even though a small smile tugged at your lips, "What can Gambit call you?"
You looked at him, thinking if you should tell him your real name or not, "Y/N," You whispered
"Cher," His voice was velvety smooth, "Can Gambit buy you a drink?"
"I already have one," You showed him the one you were nursing in your hands
"How about dinner then?" His smile, that goddamn smile, You thought to yourself and nodded as you body reacted to his charm
"I'm not gonna be around this city for a long while," You shrugged
"We're already out, mon cher," Remy leaned closer, "The best time is now,"
You looked at his eyes and you'd only be lying to yourself if you said that you weren't at least curious about the mutant in front of you
"Try anything funny and I'll set you on fire," You threatened him as you paid for your drink
"Oh, mon amour," He smiled, "Gambit never goes where he ain't invited,"
The cold air hit you as soon as you exited the bar so you drew a small flame to keep yourself warm, you eyes changed it's natural colour to the flame's hue and needless to say, Remy was charmed.
"That's a mighty fine power, cher," He told you softly as you walked beside him, pulling you jacket tighter around yourself
"Where to?" You smiled as you walked on an abandoned street; it was after midnight on a weekday, of course, everything was deserted
"Wherever you heart vœux," Remy stated dramatically and you chuckled
"Anywhere?" You cocked a brow and his grin made your heart beat a little faster, "I want you to... take me dancing," You challenged, "And if I like the way you move... I'll take you for dinner,"
"Mon cher, Gambit never let no dame pay when she's with him," He offered you his arm and you took it without a second thought
"Tell me something, Gambit," You spoke his name with an added accent, "What was a gentleman like you doing in a place like that? What tricks you got up your sleeves?"
"Oh, Gambit really loves that expression," Remy's voice rumbled inside his chest and a shiver went through you, "And, cherie, I know the parfait place,"
"Lead the way, Mr LeBeau," You winked at him playfully and his smile faltered because you were ready to play his little game
The short walk along one of many rivers and streams in New Orleans led you to an entirely different street. It wasn't that well lit but you could feel the bass in the ground beneath your feet.
"We're here, cher," He told you softly and you saw a purple door in the alleyway
People were crowding at the entrance but Remy led you to the front of the line. The huge man at the door nodded at Remy and gave you a slight look before undoing the velvet rope and guiding you in.
"Like I said, quite the reputation," You smiled to Remy and as soon as the door opened, the loud music flooded your ears
You could feel the bass in your heart and the drumbeats in your stomach. The club was full of sweaty people that were covered in glitter; you couldn't resist moving along to the beat as your hips swayed ever so slightly. You wanted to tell him that he really delivered on your request but you knew that he wouldn't be able to hear you over the music. He tugged you towards the bar where the bartender handed you two drinks even though you hadn't ordered.
Remy smirked and you ordered three shots. The first two, you drank without hesitation. The last one, you twirled in your hand and drank as well; while sucking on the lemon, you looked around and Remy's eyes followed your gaze.
You jerked your head towards the floor and dragged him behind yourself. The alcohol wasn't getting you drunk, or even tipsy but it was enough to wash away your worries and anxieties.
Remy's hand fell to your waist and you threw your head back on his shoulder as you began to sway with his body attached to yours.
You moved his hands around yourself, pulling him closer to yourself with his chest pressed against your back, "You move like le diable, mon amour," Remy spoke in your ear and he felt your laugh in his chest
At his comment, you turned to look at him, "There's a reason they call me Inferno," You leaned into his ear and you could've sworn that you felt him growl at your comment
When you leaned back, you let your hands warm just the slightest so your eyes would glow as well. A dull yellowish hue took over your eyes and the next thing you knew was that Remy was dragging you off the dancefloor. You held onto to his hand tightly as you followed him with a stupid grin on your face.
Through beaded curtains and a few doors, up the stairs and through another door, you found yourself in a house above the club. The music still flowing through the walls and the floor but not too loud.
"Inferno, is it, mon amour?" Remy's hands held you by your waist
"El Diablo was taken," You giggled and he inched closer towards you, "What is this place?"
"Gambit's home," He told you softly as he brushed a stray hair and tucked it behind your ear
"You live above a club," You cocked a brow
"It's Gambit's building," He whispered and you felt his breath fan your lips, "Gambit would love to kiss you, cherie,"
"I'm not stopping him," You spoke in a low voice as you closed the gap between the two of you
His lips were electrifying and your spine shivered as you tasted him; vodka mixed with something spicy, something so distinctly him. Remy's arms wrapped around your waist and pulled your closer than possible, there was no space between the two of you. When you finally broke apart to breathe, you looked into his stunningly peculiar eyes
"I'm so glad I asked you to take me dancing," You whispered as you kissed him again
How about five headcanons for Adrien and Lance? :D
Adrien (Agreste, I hope)
1. Adrien considers Tamaki Suoh from Ouran High School Host Club a personal hero and has endeavored to emulate his character as Chat Noir.
2. All of the women Adrien has been "officially" attracted to have been dark haired POC or biracial women, usually considered to be talented, competent, and/or at the top of their game; your Ladybugs, your Kagamis, your Marinettes, and, at his most audacious, Lucy Liu.
3. On his worst days, Adrien goes through what Plagg calls "the five stages of Madrien: sadrien, sassdrien, bratrien, WAAAAdrien, and got-it-out-of-my-system-so-now-I'll-soon-be-gladrien.
4. Adrien has an agreement with his father that Gabriel is not to pick out his clothes for him; in spite of his ability as a designer, Gabe has a bit of trouble picking out clothes that a person Adrien's age would enjoy wearing (who wants to go to a pizza parlor dressed in a three piece suit with a dark sapphire silk tie!?).
5. Though he'll never admit it, Adrien has his father's eye for sharp formalwear. He helped Nino pick out an ensemble for an anniversary date with Alya. His efforts, as reported by Marinette, left Alya speechless for the first time in her life.
Lance (Voltron or at least my version of it)
1. Lance actually takes after his Uncle Pedro, his mother's Danny DeVito-esque brother who works at LoanDepot Park. He's sort of a fixture there, often getting everybody up to cheer, talking with fans and vendors, sort of an unofficial mascot for the Marlins. In many respects, serves the same role in the stadium that Lance does on Voltron. He also claims to have met George W. Bush while he had been owner of the Texas Rangers, though given Pedro's age and the time frame of Bush's ownership, even Lance is doubtful of this claim.
2. Lance is very good with kids, a fact which has aided the team on several missions (unseen in canon but seen in our hearts and minds).
3. Lance's full name is Lance Carlos Alvarez Serrano (in Latin America, many Latinx people have four names: first, second, paternal last, and maternal first). He most often uses "Lance Alvarez" to introduce himself.
4. In spite of his hard work to get into the Galaxy Garrison, Lance only managed to stay there because his sister, Veronica, pulled strings for him, a fact which is a point of contention between the two of them once he discovered it.
5. Lance had a chance to get a college scholarship for his performance on his high school swim team, but gave it up to pursue his dreams of space travel. His family was supportive but had mixed feelings about this decision.
This is my AU of Voltron Legendary Defender. This is me remaking Voltron from the ground up. Hopefully, I haven’t bit off more than I can chew.
-V-
A movie could begin with that view, Lance thought to himself, looking out from his balcony to the bay.
Lance Alvarez had seen more picturesque views than any other human being alive, he liked to think. Of stars, of ancient temples, and beings beyond what his community college education could fathom, but in his mind nothing, absolutely nothing, could compare to a panoramic view of a Cuban sunset. Maybe he was just getting old, he thought, not that he could tell.
With the miracle of alien medicine, sixty was the new thirty-nine. He stretched, taking a deep breath of the cooling air. Yes, he thought, you could definitely start a movie like this.
The tell-tale click of the door opening behind him turned his head.
“Yes?” he asked.
A shock of hair the color of goose down poked through the door, followed by the head of a young man, probably around his son’s age.
“Mr. Alvarez?” he asked, uncertainty in not only his voice but his whole demeanor.
“Yes,” Lance said.
Lance’s visitor opened the door to Lance’s apartment all the way to reveal his cream-colored sweater and slacks.
“You’re…”
He paused, as if trying to figure out just what to say.
“You look different than your picture.”
Lance threw back his head and laughed.
“I’m sure I do,” he said, putting a hand on his stomach, “when you have Tex-Mex at Hunk and Shay’s, one plate isn’t enough!”
Lance’s visitor shifted, looking embarrassed.
“Sorry if I was rude.”
“No, you weren’t. What I did to Keith back on Arus that was rude.”
A young woman with a brown bob and a beret, followed by a familiar floating pyramid, poked her head into the doorway.
“Did you die from embarrassment yet, Daryl?”
The first visitor, Daryl, rolled his eyes.
“No, Lisa, but I appreciate the concern.”
And Lance had to appreciate the banter. It had been awhile since he’d heard some good wit.
“I see you’ve got a rover,” he said, pointing to the robot.
The girl, Lisa, brightened and walked into the room, revealing an all-black ensemble.
“You like it?” she asked, “It’s the latest model. It comes with three times the RAM and a built in translator.”
“I’ll bet,” Lance says, “I was there when the first Rover was made.”
“Get out of here!” the girl said, “you’re not that old.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Lance, “Can I offer you some coffee?”
“Uh, sure,” Daryl said, “just with sugar.”
“I’ll take some, too,” said Lisa, “but put the whole bottle of creamer in it.”
Lance nodded and headed for his kitchen.
“Now,” Lance said, putting a new filter into his coffee maker, “why are you here?”
“We spoke on the phone,” Daryl said from the other room, “We’re here for the interview.”
“Interview?”
“We’re working on a docu-series,” said Lisa, “focusing on your career…”
“Bullcrap,” Lance said, spooning coffee beans into the maker, “You want to know about Voltron.”
For about a minute, no sound came from the living room. After two minutes, Daryl poked his head into the kitchen doorway.
“Are we that obvious?”
“Well, considering I’m an old pro at that, I won’t hold it against you. But I can’t see what you want to know. Everyone’s already covered most of it…”
“But not the human side,” said Lisa, walking into the kitchen, “the side that everybody wants to know.”
“Still don’t see why you don’t talk to Hunk or Pidge…”
“We will,” said Daryl, “but we wanted to get your side of the story first.”
Lance smiled.
“Fifty years ago, I’d have been all over this.”
The coffee maker dinged.
“One of you grab some mugs from that cabinet over there. I’ll pour the coffee.”
Before long, Lance and his visitors had settled in the living room, all three of them drinking from matched mugs, with Lisa explaining the direction.
“…And then a voice over says ‘Terra is my nation. Deep space is my dwelling place, the stars my destination.’
“That’s pretty good.” said Lance, taking a sip of his coffee, “you come up with that?”
“It’s the final line of Alfred Bester’s most famous novel.” said Daryl.
“Never read Bester,” Lance replied.
“Okay,” Lisa said, moving to join Daryl on the couch, “you just start rolling and I’ll just film you while Daryl asks you questions.”
“Chévere,” Lance said, taking another drink of coffee.
“Alright,” Lisa said to her robot companion, “Rover, begin filming in ten seconds.”
“Any place you want me to start?” asked Lance.
Daryl had taken out a datapad, looking down at it. Probably had notes on that thing.
“Why not start at the Garrison? That’s where most people say this started.”
“Sounds good,” Lance said.
“And we’re rolling,” Lisa said, “in three, two…”
Lisa made mouthed the word ‘go’ to Lance.
Lance closed his eyes, thinking back to a time when it felt like anything was possible, when missing earth was nothing but a rough Wednesday.
“I first joined the Galaxy Garrison when I was fifteen. ‘Maybe you’ll be on the next mission to Kerberos.’ was what the ad on TV said. When I was a younger, I thought that would be me. I thought I could do anything…”
Lance looked back out the window of his balcony, up towards the stars he’d traversed in his youth.
“When we’re young, we look people in the eye and tell them we can do anything. That we’re the heroes of our own story, the next leaders, the next Neil Armstrong or Amelia Earhart.”
He paused, gathering his thoughts before turning to face his interviewers.
“But some of us aren’t heroes. Not in the way we think they should be. Voltron taught me that.”
Lance looked up at the walls of his home, walls full of posters and memorabilia. Underneath them were shelves lined with action figures of familiar robot lions, pictures of weddings, births, funerals, artwork, magazine covers, all of it dedicated to what was Voltron.
“It’s only now, when I’m old, that I realize how much I owe to Voltron. And to the people who made it possible.”
Lance looked down at another photo, one that held a special place in his heart, and smiled. Gritty and old, it sat in a cracked frame, showing two young men, one Cuban, the other Samoan. Both of them wore the uniforms of the Galaxy Garrison, Custodial division.
He’d tried everything he’d seen couples do in all the movies and TV shows that girls were supposed to like.
But all for naught.
Girls liked confidence, his older brother had told him.
So he tried to be confident, in his skill as a pilot (he knew he was good, it was everybody else who needed a reminder) and as a sharpshooter (the nickname did so count, Pidge).
But Allura had turned her nose up at his exhibitions of strength and skill, preferring Shiro’s quiet assurance to his braggadocio (Pidge had taught him that word, after telling him that).
Girls liked funny people, his mother had told him.
So he cracked every joke and quip he knew but Allura didn’t seem to get half of them. And it stung when he saw Shiro and Allura together (not together-together, he’d told himself), laughing about something he wasn’t privy to.
Girls like gentlemen, his grandmother had told him (his abuela, not his mee-maw)
But when he’d rushed to get the door for Allura (five times he might add), she’d told him she could handle opening doors.
Isn’t that what gentlemen do? Open doors for pretty girls? Was there something else he had to do? (ask Shiro, Hunk and Pidge had told him)
Girls like guys who take their relationships seriously, his sister had told him.
So he’d poured on the juice to show her how much he cared about her, only for her to blow up in his face to stop smothering her.
But Shiro was almost always around her, why wasn’t that considered smothering?
Girls like deep guys, his younger sister had told him.
He…didn’t want to go into that.
No matter what he tried or how he tried it, Princess Allura of Altea seemed to have her heart set on Shiro.
Not that that was a bad thing.
Shiro was a great guy, his role model even.
But still…
He’d thought the depth of what he felt for Allura would win her over.
Apparently he was wrong.
But she was happy and really, wasn’t that all that mattered?
He would have to be content with the bittersweet happiness that if he had to lose someone he never had in the first place, it would be to someone as great and admirable as Shiro.
