YURITRON 2025

a voltron: legendary defender fandom event focusing on the women of the show, with an emphasis on transfemininity, aka yuri

[voltronyurievent]

thank you to all who participated in either of the events!! i hope you all had fun celebrating voltron yuri with us 💜💖🧡

[dykeallura]

@voltronyurievent day 2 prompt: black holes/opposites; kallura ft. transfem keith

In space, one could watch an eight-hour race on a planet below and find that the length of the race was far different than experienced by those on the planet itself.

It was a concept that broke the laws of basic causality relation. Allura – an observer in space – could watch the race before it had even begun on a planet. Space, in theory, allowed for one to experience the future before it even came into creation. Yet, with all the knowledge of the world space granted her, Allura never saw herself falling in love with Keith. Nonetheless, that stubborn, fool-hardy woman drew her in like an orbital force. A black hole or a supernova that Allura couldn’t help but feel drawn to.

Allura fell in love with Keith contrastingly; in opposition to everything she knew and expected.

In the ten decaphoebes her Paladins had been with her, they’d all undergone their own changes. The war had morphed and reset each of their images - so far from the beautiful, silly, hopeful Paladins Allura had once known. And yet in many ways, as war-hardened and scarred as they had become, Allura couldn’t feel regret for her part in their change. For how her presence in their lives had affected them – altered them, like the total momentum of two objects bound to crash into one another.

Shiro’s hair was significantly more grey than black nowadays - a distinguished ‘salt and pepper’ according to Lance - in a way that reflected the light of stars beautifully. Hunk had seemingly grown overnight. Far surpassing Shiro in height and his title of Number One - with wonderful, thick muscles that lit her up to be encased within, and an even thicker beard he’d been experimenting with for far longer than an experiment was meant to take.

Gone was Pidge’s childhood figure – a wonderful, clever woman stood in her place with knobbly angular features that made themselves known on whoever she deigned to lean against. And Lance, oh Lance. Lance had grown from the insecure boy she’d first met oh so long ago, into someone sure of themselves – who stood tall, and strong, and proud, and who wore every one of Coran’s hideous ventures into the world of knitting with the surety of someone who was loved and family.

But, the most beautiful of all her paladins was Keith. Of this, Allura was sure.

The woman Allura slept beside and loved so wholly, was so very different from the distant boy she’d once known. Nowadays, she walked with a confidence in herself and her abilities. The boy who’d run away - desperate for proof of love – transformed into an oh so wonderful woman, who knew exactly where to find that love. Over the decaphoebes, she’d grown her hair out into a long thick braid that stretched down to her waist in the Galran tradition of her mother’s people. Of her people.

She fought as strong and dexterously as ever, even with a crooked knee snapped one too many times. And tattoos littered her body from a history of poor drunken decisions, and even drunker collaborating paladins with makeshift tattoo guns;

The smiling face on the arc of her foot from when she was 15, and oh so desperate to be liked in a group home which she left a month later.

A wolf-like scribble which Keith claimed was a ‘coyote’ despite the fact it was apparent to all that the artist (Lance. Allura was almost entirely sure it had been Lance) had no idea what a coyote looked like.

An ill-advised ‘tramp stamp’, or so Allura was told it was called, of what could shakily be described as the Red Lion.

And, Allura’s favourite, a sprig of juniberries over her heart.

Yes. She was beautiful, and wonderful, and oh so different than Allura could have even imagined loving before Altea fell. She watched as Keith, her red paladin, her half-Human, half-Galran, all beautiful silly little Keith, frowned at the roll of her Monsters and Mana dice and Allura’s heart felt split in two.

“Er…three.”

“Oh great! Keith killed us!” Lance squawked.

She’d changed so much, into someone Allura couldn’t imagine living without. Her sun in the sky that Allura would always look towards. That Allura would gladly fly towards again and again and again, no matter what dangers she’d have to face.

When they’d first met – when Keith was the angry, volatile half-Galran boy who, devoid of reality, represented everything Allura had lost – no. Even if she had broken the laws of causality, Allura never would have expected to adore who Keith would become. Allura knocked her knee against Keith’s, threaded their fingers together, and thought about all the love she had in her heart for the woman beside her – even as her awful Monsters and Mana character Keith the Bard was crushed under a painfully obvious trap that recoiled and hit half the party.

“Anddddd Keith, my dear! Please roll a death saving throw! Pidge, you take minus six damage! Hunk, twelve! Shiro! Well, my boy, here’s a new character sheet.”

“Keith!” Pidge angrily cried.

Yes, Allura loved Keith contrastingly. Against all known laws of physics and how she thought the world operated around her. She loved Keith in opposition to everything she’d ever thought she’d known. And as Keith’s fingers tightened around hers, and Keith turned to her with a pleading, pained expression, Allura’s heart felt twice too big for her chest. She looked forward to how else she’d love Keith in the future, and all that would entail.

[alluraaaa]

@voltronyurievent day 3: gravity/home

pairing: transfem adashi (she/her for both)

☆ ☆ ☆

It was inevitable, in Shiro’s eyes. They had a few classes together, they even sat next to each other in one. With Shiro aiming for fighter pilot and the other girl in the engineer program, it’s surprising how they’ve overlapped so much. Still, they haven’t traded a word. Yet. But Shiro can’t be blamed for that, she’s busy focusing on class. Not to mention the other girl is intimidatingly beautiful.

So thankfully, it was her that reached out first. In the mathematics class they shared, where they sat next to each other, she asks, “Hey, Shirogane, right?”

“Yeah, I’m Shiro,” she says, over-aware of her body. Her tongue feels too big in her mouth, her hands too sweaty. Would she notice if she wiped them off on her pant leg?

“Did you finish the homework? I couldn’t understand the last question.”

And that’s how it started. The girl, Eve, became her math homework friend, and they traded big numbers and complex equations shyly. Admittedly, Shiro was the more shy one. It’s hard for her to not be, she’s always had such high expectations on her. If she says one dumb thing to someone, her reputation of golden child, prodigy, future astronaut, all of it will be gone.

Again, it was inevitable. Shiro’s always been a hopeless romantic, and she couldn’t help admiring everything about Eve. Eve is confident, fearless, silly. She doesn’t care about saying anything dumb or being laughed at, she takes it in stride. Just by existing she takes a weight off of Shiro’s shoulders and lets her forget about the big, wide world surrounding them. In fact, as they grew closer, their focus shifted to the stars above them and the universe beyond. They both want to go to space, and suddenly Shiro can’t imagine exploring the cosmos without Eve at her side.

One weekend, when they were allowed off-campus, Eve took them on a hoverbike far into the desert. Seeing the stars so clearly, without any light pollution, was indescribably beautiful. Shiro thought she’d never see anything this stunning… until she looked to her side and saw Eve, illuminated under the starlight. She stared in awe until Eve caught her looking.

It was inevitable, as Shiro took her hand and laced their fingers together.

It was inevitable, as they both smiled shyly and leaned closer.

It was inevitable, as Eve closed the distance and kissed her.

They were inseparable after that. They were always studying together, even for completely different subjects. They kept hanging out in each other's dorms, annoying their roommates as they giggled at some dumb movie, squeezed together in a tiny dorm bed. Shiro has never been so happy to wake up with drool on her shoulder.

It was supposed to be them forever, it was inevitable. But then Kerberos happened. Eve disagreed, they argued, Shiro distanced herself. “Katsuki, how important am I to you?”

Infinitely, endlessly, Shiro wanted to say. It was supposed to be both of them out there, she never thought she’d have to choose. She loves Eve, she does, the small velvet box is burning a hole in her sock drawer. But she’s been dreaming of the stars since she was a kid.

She makes her choice. It might just be her worst mistake ever. It was inevitable.

The pits are a blur. The war is stressful. Through it all, the only thing that can calm her down is the thought of one day, maybe returning to Eve.

…

It was inevitable.

Touching down on Earth was amazing, it filled her with too many emotions to count and threatened to spill out of her in messy, un-leader-ish tears. But the entire planet vanished when she saw Eve. Battered and bruised and alive and gorgeous.

Fuck her reputation, fuck the audience. The Earth isn’t real it doesn’t have gravity. The only thing that exists is the force pulling them together.

Shiro sprints to her and scoops her up in a bone crushing hug. Eve is actually lifted off the ground but she doesn’t seem to care with the way all four limbs bear hug her.

And they’ll never let go again. They’ll never be apart. They were bound to find each other again, the way a raindrop always finds it’s way to the ground.

It was inevitable.

[catsushinyakajima]

Space isn’t too terrible with Romelle’s new friends.

Its largeness still creeps up on her, especially late at night when her mind is too restless to sleep. She gets used to it, bit by bit. Her days get filled with mighty adventures that she couldn’t even imagine a simple girl like herself doing. They run away from bloodthirsty creatures and exchange stories around a campfire. Lance and Hunk let her try out their guns. Keith doesn’t allow her to use his sword, but he lets her look at it with a childlike wonder. Everyone answers every question she has, especially the short one, Pidge. They don’t make her feel dumb for not knowing. They don’t make her feel little for not being Voltron.

If the whole universe could be like her new friends, then there would never be any problems.

At the end of their stay on each planet they stop by, the team draws straws on who sleeps in each lion. The arrangements have stayed the same for the most part, but they switch up for the sake of the pilot’s sanity. Sometimes even for fun.

Every time, Romelle clasps her hands together and hopes to remain in the Blue Lion.

She’s been lucky for the most part. For the past month and a half, she’s made herself familiar with the humble cot tucked into the left corner of Blue’s sleeping area. Sometimes she gets sent over to Keith, and she’s slept in each lion at least once, but she’s mainly in Blue. Mainly with Allura.

It’s fun here, with her.

Allura lets her accessorize the lion with trinkets she finds on different planets. Cool rocks line the dashboard, gold beaded strings travel from corner to corner of the ceiling, and coalition posters line the walls. It’s easy to fall asleep in such an environment. It’s comfortable.

One night, when she’s flying with Allura, she brings it up. “I’m always over. Doesn’t that get bothersome?”

Allura looks up from the card game they’re playing on the floor of the cockpit. She looks so comfortable in her pajamas with her silver curled tied up, sitting with her legs folded.

“No, of course not!” She looks at Romelle like she’s crazy. “What makes you think so?”

“Nothing really,” she shrugs, “I was just wondering.”

“Actually, I…” Allura trails off. She bites her lip.

“What is it?”

“I’ve asked everyone to let you stay with me. For the most part.”

That takes Romelle by surprise. Sure, the princess has never shown any disdain or annoyance towards her, even when she asks dumb questions like, How many times a quintant did Alteans shower? Did you eat hot or cold foods? She has always been pleasant with Romelle, but that’s because she’s a pleasant person. Her behavior had nothing to do with Romelle.

At least that’s what she thought.

“Really?” Romelle tries her hardest to keep the glee out of her voice. “How come?”

“I just—” Allura flushes. “I can’t explain it well.”

“Oh, but you’re always so eloquent and well worded. Come on!” In an attempt of casual playfulness, she drapes her elbow over Allura’s shoulder.

Allura whips her head towards her at the motion. It’s a poorly estimated move; their noses nearly knock against each other. She’s so close. Romelle can feel the warmth radiating off her skin first hand. Her breath fans against her face. She can count Allura’s eyelashes and study the angles of her Altean marks.

“I enjoy spending time with you. That’s all.”

“Me?” Romelle exclaims, a bit too loud. She points a finger at herself. “Me?”

Allura looks unamused. “Who else is here with us?”

“The mice! Coran!”

“Coran,” she hisses and grabs Romelle by the shoulders, “Is snoring! Too loud! I’ve been trying to switch him out for ages.”

Romelle giggles. She can’t help it. It’s true—Coran snores like a wailing yelmor. “I like spending time with you too,” she says.

“I know.” Allura gives her a cheeky grin.

Suddenly, a booming noise rattles Blue.

“What was that?” Romelle asks. Allura looks equally surprised.

Then, slowly, everything starts to rise. The cards scattered around the floor tilt upwards. Romelle’s hair starts to float up by its ends. She herself is going up too. They’re flying—or something like that.

“Oh my god,” Allura mutters, “I forgot to turn off the power saving system. The gravity—Blue turned it off!”

Romelle is too busy trying to reorient herself in midair. Unlike Allura, who’s floating around like a fish in water, Romelle flails and twists and turns. More often than not, she ends up upside down. She’s making a complete fool of herself.

“Oh, come here,” Allura says and snatches Romelle by the waist. “There. Now you won’t fly away.”

“T—thanks.”

Her arms are wound loosely around Romelle’s waist. They’re hugging. They’re hugging! Romelle moves her hands with caution. She doesn’t know where to place them, but she ends up slinging them around Allura’s neck.

“This is nice,” Allura says, “You have…nice arms. Good for…holding.”

“Can’t have you flying away either, princess.”

“Yes, that’d be terrible.”

Romelle waits for Allura to detach from her and fix the gravity settings, but time passes and she remains by her side. It makes Romelle wonder, could this be a regular thing for them? Could they touch like this all the time? Could they do more?

Romelle wants more. She knows that for sure.She wants to bury her hands in Allura’s hair and trace the sculpt of her face with her mouth. She wants to hold her as she sleeps. She wants to know Allura, every part of her, every part that she’ll be allowed to.

@voltronyurievent

Day Three: Gravity/Home

[voltronyurievent]

hi! are late submissions allowed? i didn't find this event until just now and i really want to participate but some of the days are already over and im not sure whether i'll be able to get my ficlets out in time?

of course! you can participate in as many or as few of the days as you’d like, however you’d like! happy yuri-ing :-)

[catsushinyakajima]

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

[yourlocalamoeba]

for @voltronyurievent day 2: opposites

[catsushinyakajima]

As a child, Romelle dreamed of the stars.

She didn’t know anything past the pale blue sky hanging overhead the colony. Her scope of the universe ended at the height of the tall grasses, trees, and Prince Lotor’s towering statue. All that was taught that existence exists beyond the colony and that this existence is no good. It’s a corrupt thing—a plague. It ate away their beautiful planet with violent bloodthirst. It’s impossible to reach any world beyond the colony, so there’s no point or reason in trying. Nothing good is out there, except for the prince who protects them.

But the myths unravel. They spill out and tangle through the masses like a ball of yarn that has tipped over the edge of a table. They wrap around Romelle and she clings to them with a fervent curiosity. She won’t let it go. These strings of history—they are hers. The townspeople can laugh and roll their eyes. Still, she persists. In the quiet, dimming twilight of a land locked by its horizon, Romelle tells her little brother stories about a princess.

She tells him about her glimmering, white hair that floated down past her waist like clouds. She tells him that she has marks like them, in a dainty pink color. Such a lovely color, fitting for a royal princess. Her skin is a dark, dark bronze, like armor and she’s never seen without her crown.

“How do you know?” Her brother, Bandor, asks.

“I just know! Quiet!”

The details that Romelle doesn’t know, she makes up. Bandor asks her what the princess wears. She creates an elegant gown in her mind and insists it’s her clothes for when the Alteans hosted balls. Frankly, she doesn’t even know if they did that—maybe Romelle picked up the idea from a story book. Her brother is none the wiser. Besides, the princess looks beautiful in the dress she has conjured. Should the Alteans have had balls, it’d be a tragedy if she hadn’t worn something similar.

“Does she have a boyfriend?”

Romelle wrinkles her nose in disgust. “No, stop interrupting.”

She tells Bandor about the daunting tales of the princess as well. How she stopped an assassination with her quick wit and rounded up a gang of thieves that bothered commoners. These myths travelled by mouth, but Romelle fact checked her sources—she spoke to several others about it too and they all agreed with the story she told.

“—and then she hits him with the, the uh, spear!” Romelle stands atop the foot of their shared bed and jabs her arm into the air.

Bandor is tucked in bed with a smile. “What’s a spear?”

“Like those…” Romelle thinks. “Sticks! No…—Oh! Like what we use to catch fish.”

“The princess goes fishing?” 

“No! She uses the spear to stab her enemies.”

“She eats her enemies?” He cries.

“No!”

Like all things grand and feeble, the nights of storytelling come to an end. Bandor leaves her to board Lotor’s mysterious spacecraft. He comes back in a burning escape pod with a heartbeat too faint to revive. He’s asleep forever before she can say more than one sentence. There will be no more bedtime tales.

Two Galra aid her vengeful investigations about Lotor. Galra! Those that have been written into their minds as evil help her while the crooked Lotor is being paraded as a savior. Keith Kogane and Krolia hold her hands with sympathetic gazes as Romelle cries. They anchor her down as her world starts to rot and grey.

She mourns her cheated brother. She hurts for her long dead parents. She laments for the fate of her innocent neighbors and the facade of a safe haven from the war. She cries for a civilization long toppled and a princess that had to bear the loss.

Keith and Krolia whisk Romelle away from her deteriorating colony in their high-fi space ship. They whizz past supernovas, galaxies, and stars—Keith points all of them out for her as they pass by. Still, for the most part, space is empty. Space is so…so dull. The things that are there, the things Romelle once poured over with immense fascination with her brother, exist meaninglessly.

It troubles her to see the open plains of darkness. Where will she go now that she’s left the colony? Romelle can’t go back—she’s a traitor. Lotor will have her head. She doesn’t know anything but the colony. She doesn’t know how to fly, any other languages, any other planets, or anyone but the two soldiers accompanying her. Romelle is homeless. She’s lost, although maybe she has been since the second Bandor’s eyes shut forever.

Krolia tells her not to worry. Voltron will help her. Voltron? The name seems as meaningless as everything else in outer space. There is nothing that can help Romelle.

Then, the ship docks at a beautiful, white castle floating through space. Then, Keith leads them through sleek doors and hallways adorned with the same pink and blue hues that glow under the eyes of her people.

Then, Romelle is guided into an open room filled with suited strangers and she comes face to face with a princess with clouds for hair and dainty, pink marks.

“Lotor is a traitor.” Keith stalks forward with intent. Romelle is still staring.

Because that’s—

That’s the princess.

That’s her princess.

The princess is frozen in shock too. She stares dead at Romelle—only Romelle. Not Keith, Krolia, or the fluffy creature knelt by their side. She can’t fathom what the princess is searching for in her eyes; Romelle is hollow, through and through. She’s left everything behind.

It doesn’t even register to her that Lotor is in the room until another man knocks him unconscious and sweeps him away. The whole room breaks into chaos and Romelle is left stranded. Orders are being shouted and alarms are beeping.

In the midst of it all, the princess comes forward and grasps her hand.

Her palm is unexpectedly rough and calloused. From the spear, Romelle thinks.

“You…” She says, “Who are you?”

@voltronyurievent

Day One: Constellations/Dreams

[voltronyurievent]

Just 1 week left until the Yuri Prompt Week!! Here's a reminder of the prompts themselves. We hope everyone is looking forward to this event as much as we are! 💜💖🧡

[voltronyurievent]

Hello! Apologies for the radio silence, life has been busy. But we’re rapidly approaching the deadline for the masterlist prompt event, so we’re going to share this event’s other half: the prompt list!

Below you will find a series of prompts for the week of August 24th to August 30th.

For each day, you will have two prompts. You are under no obligation to fulfill both prompts for the day’s assignment - just one will do! But both are there with the intent to get your creative juices flowing, so feel free to use the prompts as tenuously or strictly as you please. Also, we’d love to see what everyone creates so please feel free to tag us in your creations and we’ll share them on our blog! Alternatively, tag your posts with #voltronyurievent and we can find them there!

Now with all that said, let’s get those creative thoughts a-going! 💜💖🧡

[voltronyurievent]

Hello! Apologies for the radio silence, life has been busy. But we’re rapidly approaching the deadline for the masterlist prompt event, so we’re going to share this event’s other half: the prompt list!

Below you will find a series of prompts for the week of August 24th to August 30th.

For each day, you will have two prompts. You are under no obligation to fulfill both prompts for the day’s assignment - just one will do! But both are there with the intent to get your creative juices flowing, so feel free to use the prompts as tenuously or strictly as you please. Also, we’d love to see what everyone creates so please feel free to tag us in your creations and we’ll share them on our blog! Alternatively, tag your posts with #voltronyurievent and we can find them there!

Now with all that said, let’s get those creative thoughts a-going! 💜💖🧡

[simplelivingthing]

Second submission for @voltronyurievent

Veronica takes Acxa out dancing 💃🏽🫣

[simplelivingthing]

Big buff Krolia!!!!!

One of my submissions for @voltronyurievent

[voltronyurievent]

Hello! Apologies for the radio silence, life has been busy. But we’re rapidly approaching the deadline for the masterlist prompt event, so we’re going to share this event’s other half: the prompt list!

Below you will find a series of prompts for the week of August 24th to August 30th.

For each day, you will have two prompts. You are under no obligation to fulfill both prompts for the day’s assignment - just one will do! But both are there with the intent to get your creative juices flowing, so feel free to use the prompts as tenuously or strictly as you please. Also, we’d love to see what everyone creates so please feel free to tag us in your creations and we’ll share them on our blog! Alternatively, tag your posts with #voltronyurievent and we can find them there!

Now with all that said, let’s get those creative thoughts a-going! 💜💖🧡

[dykeallura]

for @voltronyurievent's masterlist prompt event + the prompt: sport au!

romelle/allura, tennis au ficlet, gen audience

When Romelle played tennis, her heart pounded a ricochet beat. Her fingers tightened around the racquet, her focus narrowed, her spine tingled with anticipation. As Romelle caught Allura’s gaze over the net, she wondered if falling in love felt a bit like that too.

As if with every rise and fall of the tennis ball, Romelle soared closer and closer to being worthy of Allura’s attention. Like one day she could be the racquet Allura held, the sweatband around her wrist. The title and win she coveted.

Romelle tightened her grip around her racquet as Allura rose to meet her opening serve. And thought to herself; do I want this? do I want this?

I want this.

Most players who were serious about tennis started early – ten, twelve, sixteen. At twenty years old, Romelle had joined the tennis circuit late.

She’d never really cared about tennis. It was hitting a ball with a racquet and making a big deal out of what happened. Why the quiznak would she care? Yet, at twenty years old, Romelle’s brother Bandor died. No, was murdered. And after having listened to the all the platitudes and he’s with the cosmos now’s, Romelle had run as far and fast as she could from her brother’s cold, all made-up hideous corpse, and found a battered broken racquet in a run-down park with a dirty tennis ball and she’d hit it as far and fast as she could. Right into the head of Keith Kogane – intergalactic number two – who was out walking his stupidly large horse of a dog. Who instead of being angry, made her do it again and again and again.

Of all the stupid, stubborn half-Galran intergalactic tennis players out there, she had the most stupid, stubbon half-Galran intergalactic tennis player out there as her quiznaking coach in a sport she didn’t even really care about.

Hadn’t really cared about.

Because the court became the one place in Romelle’s life where she wasn’t the sister to a dead boy.

And if she won – if she won a title - maybe that empty space where Bandor used to wear the clothes still draped over his chair, where Bandor used to drink the disgusting creamer still undrunk in her fridge, wouldn’t be so empty anymore.

Romelle hadn’t won a title in five years. Romelle hadn’t won a title ever.

___

Allura Alforsdotter was a tumultuous tide of a story.

The Crown Princess to Altea, intergalactic junior champion, two Grand Slam titles before the age of eighteen, and intergalactic number eleven. Until the age of nineteen.

When, at nineteen, her parents were killed in what would, at best, be called a suspicious shuttle failure. When, at nineteen, Allura Alforsdotter collapsed into a coma she wouldn’t awaken from until aged twenty-five; parentless, title-less, alone.

Nothing to her name but her old tennis racquets and her dead father’s pride in her skills.

Romelle needed a win for her dead brother. She thought maybe Allura needed one for her dead father. A way to cement her return into the circuit.

And as Romelle looked at the draw for the final of the Olkarion singles qualifiers, she hated that Allura’s win would be at her expense.  

___

“Have you ever met her?” Romelle asked her stupid, stubborn half-Galran intergalactic tennis player at breakfast. He had a hideous, disgusting black cowfree? quavee? coughea? (“Coffee,” Keith sighed) in front of him – a Terran import Romelle would never understand. And Romelle stabbed at her Hylexan…unknown meat product…with a frown, and thought about long dead brothers who probably would have enjoyed the mystery meat more than her.

“Wha -? Allura? Yeah. Yeah”.

Romelle waited. She didn’t know why. Keith her beautifully stupid, stubborn half-Galran coach sucked, and had never understood the point of learning about his opponents because why would he. Stupid, stubborn, quiznaking idiot. Romelle slid his cup of dumbly named coffee over to herself and poured in four packets of sugar she haphazardly picked up. As she battered away his hands she asked:

 “And?”

“And she’s good,” Keith frowned, and stole a piece of her mystery meat off her plate with a wrinkled nose, “You know that”.

“Do you think I can beat her?”

“If you want to.”

Because that made sense to people like Keith. People who believed in ridiculous things like mind over matter. Like if you believed in something hard enough you could achieve it. It made sense to people like Takashi Shirogane, intergalactic number one – the champion of tennis – who said dumb things like patience yields focus to people like Keith, who then said it to her, which Romelle then had to listen to like it was actual advice.

“Do you want to?” Keith smirked.

Did she want to? Quiznak.

__

Romelle finally faced Allura on the Olkarian grass court at the single’s qualifying finals for the Olkarian Grand Slam. Whoever won their match had a chance to go forward. Whoever won their match had a chance at the title.

The heat of T’kloni city was sweltering and unbearable. The kind of heat that started to wilter and brown even Olkarion’s grass, and Romelle felt a bead of sweat run down her forehead as silence rang out across the court.

She watched as Allura raised her racquet; her bright white pleated skirt tracing her strong, sweat slick thighs. Her low zipped shirt, raising, lengthening the gap between her skirt, and showing off her trimmed waist.  Her beautiful white hair, pulled high and taunt in a visor, showing off her graceful neck. And as Romelle thought to herself; do I want this? do I want this? she wasn’t sure what she wanted more. Her hands on Allura or her hands on the Olkarion trophy.

Allura hit the ball.

She hit the ball with a forehand serve with so much spin that the strings on Romelle’s racquet moved, and her wrist nearly buckled under the weight of it all. And in the split second before Romelle returned the serve, Allura grinned from across the court.

You want this, Romelle repeated to herself. You want this.

[stratos-ane]

a veracxa ballerina x secret admirer au for @voltronyurievent !!!

[seraphw37]

@voltronyurievent

my entry!!! prompt : krolia in a muscle tank :3