Sep 25, 2025
me and the two other romellura fans cheered
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from T1
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Colombia
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
me and the two other romellura fans cheered
these are kinda old but here’s my vld college au or whatever
rommy doodle
Daylight version of my Voltron summer art contest entry! I was inspired by the National Park posters retro style and a sense of adventure. Hopefully print formats to come soon 👀
how it feels writing voltron fanfics
You've heard of Space Dad! Shiro... now get ready for...
Space Mama Hen! Keith
I stream saturdays on my patreon exclusive discord, if you wanna hang!
Romelle is a curious and clumsy girl. She knows so little of the universe Allura is exposed to and is fascinated by all things, impressive or not. She marvels over the controls in Blue equally as much as the explosive fights they weave in and out of. When the lions form Voltron, there are tears in her eyes.
“Cool, isn’t it?” Allura says after they disband.
“Yeah,” Romelle blubbers. She turns to hide her face from Allura. “Cool.”
“I cried the first time they formed Voltron too.”
Romelle whips around at that, her long, blonde locks flying with the motion. “You cry? I mean uh—I’m not crying.”
Allura laughs. She’s so odd.
It’s nothing like how Allura imagined meeting another Altean would be.
Romelle is the total opposite of everything she envisaged.
Alteans are…
Alteans were…
They carried themselves with a lot of pride. There was pride in invention, pride in rule, pride in culture, and pride in conquests. There was a discreet sense of elitism veiled in many minds; to be Altean was an honor. To not be—well, that’s just alright. Alteans carried themselves with an air of sophistication and an infinite amount of self-worth. Allura’s dear friends and cousins were particularly susceptible to the superiority complex that raged amongst upper-class Alteans. It was snobbish and annoying, but well, Allura can’t hold that against them anymore. What use is spite against long eroded bones and ash?
It hasn’t been too long ago for her. What’s a few years versus a few thousand? She was asleep regardless.
Allura refused to let herself chase the idea of finding another Altean after the alternate universe crushed her hopes. It showed her the worst of her civilization, every bitter part that she couldn’t fathom existing. Those Alteans used her lovely language to speak of authoritarian rules and supreme dictatorship. They spat on her dreams and the civilization she knew. All she could do was cry to Coran late at night.
Lotor brought ruin to her dreams even further. Because Lotor, she let in. Lotor, she showed her heart to. Allura presented her culture’s grandest innovations and secrets of quintessence in hopes of what—bonding with him, another Altean? Showing him the world he missed out on? He didn’t care. He used her. He took her sciences and used it to fuel his power hungry agendas.
Allura should’ve known better. Being Altean doesn’t mean anything. People speak highly of Altean stories, but that’s just at face value. In this day and age, an Altean is nothing more than a currency. How many times has a planet accepted them because of her name and title? How many of them offer help in exchange for pumping their cities with ‘Altean magic’?
The universe doesn’t care about her people or culture. They don’t care about what she stands for. She’s just a walking relic.
Slowly, Altea is being written out of history. It fades away.
“So…” Romelle taps her foot as they get ready to sleep in the Blue Lion after another long day of travelling. She’s dressed in spare paladin sleepwear. Idly, Allura notices that the blue of her clothes match the blue of her marks.
“Did you ever…fight any thieves, or something?” “I’m sorry?” Allura blinks.
“You know, back on Altea.” Romelle gestures as if her question was obvious. “You did a lot of cool things, right? Like fighting thieves and stopping assassinations?”
Allura shakes her head. “Every building on the planet was integrated with an anti-theft software that detected intrusive and unwelcome guests. There was never any need for me to fight thieves”
“Integrated with what?” Romelle brushes her hair. It’s quite long. Confusion is plain on her face.
“Essentially, we had gotten a holographic scan of the entire planet that updated every time—” Allura halts herself. “Are you really interested?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Romelle asks. “You think I know this stuff?”
She shakes her head. “Where do you even get these ideas from? Thieves and assassins?”
Romelle hops into their shared bunk. It’s just large enough to fit the two of them. The other cot, across the room, hosts Coran and the mice. “The stories about you. Children’s tales, I guess. But there were books! I can show you down at the old shop. Or well…” she trails off. “I can’t go back, so you’ll have to take my word for it.” Romelle smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“I believe you,” Allura says, “But really, Romelle. I’m not as interesting as those stories you read make me out to be. I was just a boring, regular princess.”
“I don’t think you’re boring.”
“Really?” Allura slides into the bed next to her. She’s careful to maintain her distance. “What’s interesting about me?”
“You’re so…” She trails off. Romelle is staring at her, she realizes. From this close, it’s hard to evade the focus of her eyes. Allura watches her watch her, and wonders what she sees. Is she looking at her scars? They’re thinly veiled, but they still decorate her face. Is she looking at her Altean marks and how they glow at night? Does it remind her of home?
“You’re so strong. You’re never afraid to fight. I’ve never met anyone like that—well, I don’t know too many people, but that’s not the point. I, uh. You always speak your mind and stick up for your friends.”
Allura can’t help but slip a small smile. Romelle is so candid. She speaks all that is on her mind.
“Thank you, Romelle.”
“I wish I knew you back at home,” she blurts out. “Sorry, that’s weird. Ignore that.”
“No that’s—that’s sweet.”
“I just mean that you’re really cool and we could’ve had a lot of fun together. The colony—it’s not Altea, so maybe you wouldn’t love it the same as I do, but it’s really nice. We could’ve played in the creek. Or picked flowers together.”
“Picking flowers,” Allura muses, “That sounds fun. I think your colony sounds lovely.” She doesn’t mention how much her heart cries for it, a land filled with her people. She doesn’t say that she desperately wants to turn around and immediately save them.
Instead, she says: “I’d like to have known you back at home too.”
“Really?”
Allura nods. “We could’ve made fun of the nobles together. You would’ve hated them. And you would’ve loved our parties.”
“Balls?” Romelle’s eyes light up. Her marks glow even brighter.
“Something like that. Lots of dancing and lots of gossip.”
“That’s so fun,” Romelle whispers, “I wish I was there.”
“Me too.”
“At least we’re together now.”
Neither of them mention how all that they speak of has been left behind as they lay in bed together. Opposite worlds that have fallen to dismay and destruction. Allura’s, completely lost. Romelle’s, with still a chance. Allura wants to save them—she wants to bring her world back to her. She can’t cure Romelle’s heartbreak. She’s well aware of that. But those flowers and creeks, her old house, her grasses and farms and even the dumb Lotor statue—Romelle deserves to have it back. At least one of them should be able to return to their life.
And maybe, just maybe, Allura could return with her too.
@voltronyurievent
Day Two: Black Holes/Opposites
oh hell no…