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autisticlancemcclain · 6 months

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Lance flicks on the lights and his soul damn near leaves his body.

“Jesus H. Christ one a one-wheeled motorbike, Pidge,” he gasps, hand pressed to his galloping heart. She doesn’t laugh — Pidge doesn’t laugh often — but Lance has learned to read her, in the year or so they’ve been in space. He recognises the twitch of her mouth, the flash in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Your lock code is embarrassingly easy to guess,” she says in lieu of an answer. Lance smiles reflexively at the matter-of-fact, half chiding tone. He pulls finally away from the wall, having caught his breath, and starts rifling through his cabinet.

“Yeah?”

He hears the shuffle of blankets, the muffled hits on a pillow being shoved into a lap. When he glances out of the corner of his eyes, he finds her sat comfortably in the dead centre of his bed, criss-cross-applesauce, nails picking at the threads of his pillowcase and eyes blinking owlishly behind her glasses.

“Yes. Fifty eighth most common four letter password.” She pauses a moment. “Spelling F-A-R-T with numbers is very immature.”

Lance snickers. He’d forgotten what his password spelt, he’s used the same combo so long. “Is that right?”

“Yes. You should come up with something more secure. It was my second guess.”

“What was the first?”

Pidge doesn’t seem to notice his curious look. Her eyes are focused on the items in his hands, watching diligently as he sits on the floor next to a dish of water, squeezing some soap into his hands and rubbing it all over his bare legs. Her head is tilted with a similar look of inquiry.

“Your birthday. What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Lance removes the cap from his razor and starts to carefully drag it down his calfs, rinsing it every two strokes in the water. Pidge watches with rapt attention.

Weirdo, Lance thinks, fondly and hypocritically.

It doesn’t take long for the questions to start firing off.

“What’s the point of shaving your legs?”

“Gets rid of the hair.”

“Why do you want to get rid of the hair?”

Lance takes a moment to gather his thoughts, answering truthfully. “Lots of reasons. Not all of them I’m proud of. I started mostly ‘cause Veronica did it and I used to do everything she did.” He pauses. A sad smile pulls on his lips, and he swallows around the comfortingly familiar lump in his throat. “Well. ‘Used to’. If she was here I’d probably still be puttering around after her.” He finds Pidge’s eyes and smiles at her, winking. “Older siblings are easy to hang off of, huh?”

Her mouth twitches. She breaks eye contact, resting her chin on her knees and moving the pillow under her legs. “No. Older siblings are annoying. And ridiculous. I once followed Matt around all day and wrote down every single time he said ‘ow’. He said in on average twenty-three times an hour.” She meets his eyes again, mouth pinched and eyebrows raised. “Your average is twenty-four.”

“I see.”

“You should tie your shoes.”

“Nah.” He taps the razor on the side of the dish, gently sliding it to the other side of him and switching his razor to his left hand. “Anyways. When I was your age I mostly did it ‘cause Ronnie did it. Helped with swimming, too. But as I got older…” He frowns. “As I got older, I started feeling like I had to, I guess. Like I was ugly if I didn’t.”

A pinprick of pain makes his hand still, lifting the blade from around his ankle. A tiny drop of blood swells at the base of it. He sets the razor down, quickly grabbing a towel and dabbing at the nick. Ankle wounds always bleed so much — it doesn’t even hurt anymore, but he can’t pull the towel away or he’ll stain the floor.

“…Do you feel that way now?”

Lance doesn’t answer for a long moment. He hears Pidge fidget, clicking her nails together. The blood finally slows enough for him to pull away the towel, and he resumes shaving the last half of his leg — much more slowly, this time.

“Not exactly,” he says carefully. “I recognize why I feel that way. I know where that pressure comes from, why it’s harmful. But it’s still…there. I still catch myself thinking cruel things; I have to spend a few minutes talking myself out of them. I tried stopping for about a year. I didn’t like it.”

He finally finishes swiping up the last line of soap, rinsing off his razor and then gently running a cold, wet cloth over his legs to get rid of any lingering suds.

“Do you think you’ll try to stop again?”

“Hm. I don’t think so. I like the feeling of smooth skin more than hairy skin, I’ve found. It’s nice on fresh sheets, plus sometimes hair tickles me and makes me jumpy. Plus, it’s easier to moisturize.”

“Ohhh,” Pidge says, and when Lance looks up there’s a real look of understanding on her face — not the practiced one she puts on when she doesn’t actually get something but doesn’t want to look dumb. “Like — it’s the same as why you don’t like jeans and socks.”

Lance smiles. “Exactly. I’d walk around in nothing but shorts and a big t-shirt, if I had the choice.” Legs clean and clean-shaven, he picks up his tube of lotion and starts dabbing dollops all over the skin. “That’s all I ever wore back home.”

“Arizona is freezing half the time!”

“Cuba,” Lance reminds her.

“Oh yeah,” she says again. “But what about when it rained?”

Lance shrugs. “Better to wear flip flops and get wet feet than wet socks. Wet socks are the worst.”

“Yeah.” She shudders. “Like prickly sweaters.”

He hums. The lotion smells like juniberries, which kind of smells like pineapple and hibiscus mixed with a strange, almost spicy scent. Not quite home, but close enough to be nice.

He doesn’t ask Pidge why she broke into his room while he was in the showers and sat in the dark waiting for him to get back. The same way he doesn’t press when she follows him down the halls, disappearing behind corners when he turns to look, or sits by his feet during movie night. He lets her be prickly with affection and learns to hear the undercurrent in her constant comments and rambles, learns to read her questions about every thing he does as curious rather than judgemental.

She would ice him out for weeks if he said it out loud, but there was this stray cat that lived near his house, when he was young. It hissed and spit and clawed if you came halfway near it; Mamá had forbidden him from trying in case it was sick. But he used to leave out water for it at night and sometimes even sneak Abuelo’s heating pad, and every once in a while it would let Lance sit near it without clawing him. Once it even attacked one of the older kids who used to chase him after school.

It’s no coincidence that Pidge always happens to be in the same room as him 90% of the time. Or that she can guess his passcode easily.

“Hey, Pidgeon,” he says, unwrapping the towel from his hair and starting to work in the leave in conditioner. “The lockcode on my snack drawer is the same as the room code. Just so you know.”

She stares at him for several minutes.

Her mouth twitches.

“I could have figured that out myself.”

“I know.”

“You’re weird.”

He smiles. “You too, nerd.”

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vldsideblog · 4 months

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Btw I’m a firm believer that Keith and Pidge were kinda friends before Voltron, they talked about aliens and cryptids and conspiracies and shit. So they actually get along very well, they spend a lot of time in the training room, Pidge working on computer stuff while Keith trains in silence.

#best friends for real #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #keith voltron #keith headcanon #character headcanons #autistic keith #autistic pidge #pidge holt #pidge gunderson #pidge and Keith are friends #platonic relationships #conspiracy theorist keith #conspiracy theorist pidge

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mikey-way-enthusiast · 8 months

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pidge is autistic and it’s simple as to why. this wont be long since it’s simple.

in the youtube video of the paladins “interviews” pidge claims she has trouble with communicating with people, and has a better way of communicating with robots and stuff. (i didnt word that right i know)

also, she has a huge special interest with robots/technology. heres are pictures of her when she sees a robot.

#pidge is autistic #pidge is my wife #autism #autistic pidge #autistic women #autism spectrum #voltron #vld #voltron legendary queerbait #voltron legendary disaster #voltron legendary disappointment #voltron legendary defender #voltron pidge #pidge vld #vld pidge #pidge voltron #voltron legendary defender pidge #pidge voltron legendary defender

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rainforestgeek · 1 year

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even more ND Plance Headcanons! Autistic Pidge and ADHD Lance!

Lance bites his nails. A lot. Pidge bought him a giant box of chewy jewelry to get him to stop.

There’s just a comforting weight about the glasses on Pidge’s face. She’s started to feel exposed without them.

She doesn’t sit in Lance’s lap, per se, but she curls up tight against him and nuzzles him like a cat until he cuddles her.

Lance has caressed her cheek before and she hates it. The light touches drive Pidge mad.

They once spent 36 straight hours hyperfocused on a video game.

Lance’s back massages are. The. BEST! Hello, deep pressure, Pidge is in stimmy heaven.

Always, always, always have the TV on or music playing during dinner to drown out the chewing noises. Pidge and Lance share a deep disdain for people who chew with their mouths open.

#plance #pidgance #flirtyrobot #pidge #lance #pidge holt #voltron #autistic Pidge #adhd lance #sensory issues #actually autistic

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keithbutgay · 1 year

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Letters to You (a platonic Kidge fic)

(What if Lotor never arrived? What if Keith's Naxzela plan had actually gone through? What if Pidge started writing letters to him to cope?)

CW: implied sh, implied ed, implied self-sacrifice, death, depression (I'm sorry guys)

~~~

A while ago, I was talking to you. It wasn’t our last conversation, We were at my house, eating candy and talking about nothing and everything.

You were lecturing me on taking care of myself, and mentioned a friend of yours who had broken their ribs from binding unhealthily.

You were always such a hypocrite, as much as you liked to deny it. You were worse at taking care of yourself than I was.

I asked you if the friend was okay, and you looked at me, bluntly stating that they were dead.

I didn’t know how to respond then. I don’t really know now.

You said you shouldn’t be joking about having dead friends.

But guess who has the dead friend now, Keith?

Guess who?

~~~

I was going through my texts and found the conversation between the two of us.

I started scrolling through it, and amid all of the 2 am talks about cheese, the interesting facts, the cartoon shows, I found it.

It was after you had joined the Blade. You’d never messaged me before then.

You told me you missed me, let me know that you were visiting. But we never did plan anything, did we Keith?

I should have said something sooner. I should have written back. I knew I should have.

But I didn’t.

And look where we are now.

~~~

You used to always joke that I couldn’t listen to Ricky Montgomery.

I used to always joke that you couldn’t listen to Mother Mother.

It was our little thing (we listened to both anyway).

And when our dysphoria got too bad, we could just joke that we should switch bodies. (I always was jealous of your height)

Your sense of humor might have been more than a little skewed.

But it was okay.

Because we could be skewed together.

~~~

There’s someone at the Garrison who kind of looks like you.

I keep seeing them around.

They tied their hair back today, making it look short, and I saw you.

But it wasn’t you.

It will never be you.

I should really be used to that.

~~~

I text the others every so often.

I hear I’m the only one they’ll talk to anymore. You’d think that would make me feel special, but it really hurts.

Lance still loves you, Keith. He never got over you. He wants you to come back. Needs you to. We all do.

But not even the others will message him. Not after he asked to talk to you one too many times.

One of the others texted me this morning, at 4 am. I could have cried when I saw the notification.

It’s been so long since I’ve talked with any of you.

And yet this person missed me. This person wants to see me.

But you’re gone.

How long can I handle another person in your place?

Meeting up with them might end up being the hardest thing I’ll have to do for a while.

It hurts just to see your face.

~~~

You told me you were Galra before you told the rest of the crew. I guess you thought I’d be more likely to understand you.

I didn’t believe you at first.

Maybe because I didn’t want to. I was scared, we all were. But you had always acted and looked so human… I didn’t see how you could ever be a monster, like they are. Like the ones who took my family.

But as soon as I thought about it, I knew you wouldn’t be lying about that. And maybe I noticed a few signs every so often. The impeccable night vision, the sharp canines, the colorblindness.

I guess it all makes sense now.

Despite all this, I never thought of you as any different than who you were before. I never treated you any different.

Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t be gone.

~~~

I went to your house once. Before Kerberos, before you were expelled.

Did you even remember that?

We played Identity V, and KillBot, and Cards Against Humanity (much to Matt’s amusement and Shiro’s horror).

I bought that game. Did I ever tell you that?

I bought Cards Against Humanity because us playing that game is one of the only memories I have of you.

I can’t lose that.

~~~

I’m sorry.

I’m so, so sorry.

I’m sorry I ruined your last moments with your boyfriend.

I’m sorry I didn’t hug you goodbye.

I’m sorry I let you go.

I’m sorry that I acted like I didn’t care, that I brushed it all off.

I’m so sorry, Keith.

I’m so sorry for everything.

~~~

Maybe it’s pointless to write all of this.

It’s not like you will ever read it.

I guess it’s just been pent-up for too long.

It’s been so long, Keith.

I don’t understand.

I suppose I might never truly understand.

~~~

You were one of the only people who knew about my scars.

You had the same ones.

You called them your “barcodes”, held our arms together and joked that we were matching.

I never knew how to respond to that.

Mine were only faint white marks, so old they were hardly visible against my skin. Yours were red and harsh, lining your thighs, your arms, your hips.

You never did let me check for fresh wounds. Now, I regret not pushing harder.

I used to constantly be so confused how you would always convince others to eat, even as you skipped meals for days at a time.

I didn’t get how you would go to any length to stop a friend from hurting themself, even as white scars lined your arms.

I never understood how you would be so persistent about not suppressing your emotions while pushing down an anxiety attack.

You were always brushing aside your own problems. You always seemed so figured out.

I had never realized.

~~~

One time Hunk tried to stop me from stimming and you called him ableist because I’m neurodivergent.

I was so confused at the time. I hadn’t told anyone I was autistic.

I texted you about it later. You brushed it off, saying that you had a kind of gaydar for neurodivergent people.

When someone’s closest friends are all ADHD and autistic, they begin to notice a few things.

I never guessed that other people would notice as well.

I have a new friend now. Their name is Sophie.

You would like them. You’re a lot alike.

They are the best friend I’ve had in a really, really long time. And probably the closest.

They’re a hybrid too. Part Olkari, part human.

But I know they’re not leaving me. Or at least any time soon.

~~~

I get angry about it sometimes. Did you really think we could ever forget about you?

Why didn’t you try harder? Why wouldn’t you fight back? Why couldn’t you have just fucking stayed?

The Blade was putting so many things into your head, Keith. Couldn’t you tell?

Knowledge or death. That’s the reason you aren’t standing before me anymore. That’s the reason I can’t hear your breathing in the room next door.

That’s the reason I relapsed last night.

You never had to leave us.

You never needed to sacrifice yourself.

It wasn’t the only option.

It won’t ever be.

~~~

I had a dream last night.

You were in it.

I didn’t want to wake up.

~~~

I haven’t been able to sleep recently.

Thoughts of you plague my mind.

It makes me feel sick, thinking about how you died. If Matt hadn’t told us… I don’t know what would have happened. We might have never noticed.

That terrifies me.

It terrifies me that you felt that the only way to stop the bomb was to explode your ship.

It terrifies me that we unknowingly egged you on, told you to do it. We congratulated you. Good job Keith! You did it!

It terrifies me that you died thinking we hated you. You died before we could apologize for the harsh looks thrown, for the angry words, for making you feel expendable.

But most of all?

It terrifies me that if no one had told us you were dead, we would never have realized on our own. We would still be going to parties, doing shows, fighting the Empire.

We would have assumed you thought you were too good for us, off on some Blade mission that didn’t really matter.

It’s the thoughts like those that really make me feel sick to my stomach.

Here’s to another sleepless night, I guess.

~~~

I almost threw away these letters.

But as soon as I tried to let them go, I started crying so hard I couldn’t convince myself to drop them.

I clung to them as if they were the only thing keeping me alive. Keeping you alive.

I suppose they are, in a way.

~~~

You came into my room once when neither of us could sleep.

I was playing the video game we got from the space mall, Kill Bot Phantasm 1. I didn’t notice you coming in. None of us ever did. We used to joke about putting a bell around your neck.

You saw my posters, walls covered with cryptids and podcasts. Mothman and the Loch Ness Monster and Welcome to Night Vale.

I don’t think I had ever seen you so excited.

We talked for hours about evidence and theories, finally able to talk cryptozoology to someone who understood and was willing to listen.

You asked to play the game with me. I was more than happy to play with you.

The next morning, Lance came into the room to find the two of us asleep, my head on your shoulder, the screen still on.

He teased me for weeks about that.

I think he was just jealous.

~~~

Something’s wrong with Shiro, Keith.

I can’t tell what’s different. You probably could have. But you were so excited to have your brother back… it blinded you.

I hate not knowing. I feel so stupid. Something’s clearly off.

Maybe he’s just grieving.

That’s more than just a possible answer, I suppose.

I wish you’d come back like Shiro did.

But I guess not all of us are so lucky.

~~~

I found Cards Against Humanity. It was in a small metal box in the corner. I don’t even remember bringing it into space.

It’s not like I could play by myself, but I sifted through the cards, looking for the ones we’d used that day.

I pulled them out, laying them on the floor.

I sat there for a long time, crying and staring at those stupid cards.

Guess I’ll be the one advocating for a team game night tonight.

~~~

I know these letters are pointless.

But they’re the only thing that’s left of you. Or at least the only thing that’s mine.

Lance took your jacket. He says it smells like you. He’ll sleep with it occasionally, head buried in its folds, his eyes red and puffy.

I guess I’ve been pretty selfish with these letters.

You would have wanted to know how the others were doing.

If I’m being honest, they’re not doing well. Your death hit us all hard, and I’m not even sure you realized.

You thought you were doing the right thing. You didn’t see any other way. Good job, Keith.

Shiro is staying up later and later, hacking away at the training bots like you used to do. His decisions have become more and more reckless, and truthfully, I don’t know how long we can keep up with it.

Lance barely sleeps either, but instead of training, he’s playing video games, or reading, or staring at the wall. Sometimes he refuses to even leave his room, and I keep catching glimpses of little crescent-shaped scars on his arms, like he was digging his nails into his skin. He does that a lot, when he thinks no one can hear him cry. When no one can see him bleed.

Hunk has been cooking. A lot. Normally I wouldn’t complain, but it’s getting worrisome. Cooking and baking have always been his outlet, a way for him to vent his emotions and turn them into food. Now, the castle is full of food. It’s like he physically can’t stop.

He cries a lot, too. I can hear through his door, and I think my heart breaks more with every sob.

Allura is a lot more quiet. Less demanding. I think she blames herself for your death, as if her accepting you sooner would have stopped you from ramming your ship into that stupid barrier.

And to be completely truthful… There are times when I’ve believed the same.

Coran has quieted, too. He keeps trying to act cheerful like he usually does, but every joke falls flat. I think he understands, but it hurts to see the downtrodden expression on his face every time he fails to make us smile. It’s as if he’s become more muted.

I'm not sure who else there is to talk about besides... well... Matt.

I think he might have taken your death the hardest out of everyone here. And that's saying something.

He hardly eats anymore. Barely sleeps. He's practically stopped talking, Keith. I don't know what to do.

You were one of his oldest friends, second only to Shiro. He blames himself for your death, both regret and survivor's guilt weigh heavy on him.

He was the one to watch you fly. He was the one to yell at you to stop. He was the one to see as you crashed, as the barrier went down.

He was the one to tell us about your death.

I think he loved you. He probably still does.

He's really hurting, Keith. We all are.

It's days like today that I doubt I'll be leaving my lab any time soon.

~~~

I was sitting in your room a few days ago when I found your knife hidden under your mattress. The one from your mother, from the Blade of Marmora.

I’m not sure I’ve ever missed you more.

~~~

We’re doing a mission with the Blade of Marmora today.

I have mixed feelings about the Blade, if I’m being honest. After all, it was the Blade who killed you. The Blade, with their stupid sayings and stupid mantras about “knowledge or death.” and “the mission is more important than the individual”.

It’s not. It never is.

The individual is always more important. Especially when it was you. When it wasn’t the only way.

I’m scared, Keith. I’m really scared.

I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t lose anyone to another fucking mission.

Not again.

~~~

I think I might have to stop these letters soon.

I suppose I ran out of things to say to you.

I never thought that would happen.

But I guess it’s as good a time as any to finally let you go.

Goodbye, Keith.

I love you. I will miss you for as long as I live.

Your best friend forever and ever,

Pidge

~~~

#find me on ao3!#The_Tiger_King #first time posting fanfic on tumblr #fanfiction #voltron #vld #im putting them through it #voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #klance #autistic keith #autistic pidge #pidge holt

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jorblesandco · 4 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron) Characters: Keith (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt, Lance (Voltron), Chelsea, Hatricia Additional Tags: Mentions of cocaine, zoo animals, kind of diologue heavy, no actual drug use, Mentions of Violence, keith's favorite animal is a hippo, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Autistic Keith (Voltron), Autistic Pidge | Katie Holt, Autistic Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD Summary:

Lance works at the zoo that Keith and Pidge go to. They meet some kids and almost get into some trouble.

#voltron legendary defender #klance #autistic lance #autistic keith #autistic pidge #voltron fic

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pigeonwit · 9 months

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davey jacobs but he has meltdowns. big ugly meltdowns where he cant be touched or spoken to and just needs to be left alone to cry and stim and scream and go catatonic for a little bit. davey jacobs but he has involuntary twitches and stims that include punching himself, twitching his neck/his face, knocking his knuckles together, scratching his skin, etc. davey jacobs but he has shutdowns where he just cant get out of bed or shower or do anything because his energy is so thoroughly spent that even moving hurts. davey jacobs being autistic but not the 'palatable' kind of autistic that neurotypicals find cute and quirky. but his loved ones still love him anyways and don't get frustrated with him for it. they try to help him stim the way he needs to without hurting himself. they dont get mad when hes so exhausted that he cant do certain things because they know its not a matter of choice or pushing yourself or him purposefully not wanting to make an effort for them, he simply cannot do it just yet.

davey jacobs being autistic in ways that are inconvenient and frustrating. davey jacobs being deeply ashamed of that all his life. davey jacobs learning over time that there are people who will not treat his autism and its more difficult aspects as an obstacle to overcome in order to love him.

davey jacobs being autistic and still being loved unconditionally for it.

#now switch out 'davey jacobs' for 'me; tumblr user pidge pigeonwit'#i need to go to back to university right now or i will DIE.#anywhore. this isnt me saying 'ugh the newsies fandom treats autism like [x]' tbc #honestly all the autistic headcanons ive seen have been dope and received well.#its almost like we're all autistic and know what the fuck we're talking about #but man!! i sure hate how autistic people have to constantly be behaving ourselves in order to be treated like fucking people!!#both in real actual life and online!!#vent #too poor for therapy tag #newsies #davey jacobs #uksies

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just-a-dinosaur-i-guess · 24 days

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start where i end

“Do you know why you’re here?” Mori tilts his head. Gide shakes his head. He should be decaying by now, after all. Mori clicks his tongue. “Hmm. Then answer me something else,” And he leans further, smiling. His fangs are not canine. They’re sharper, more poised. Serpentine and full of venom. Gide thinks he’s prepared to let it course through his veins. He sees no other ending to this, after all. “Why did you go after the orphans of the Dragon’s Head Conflict?” - on gide & elise and wolves & ravens

oneshot, 1265 words, gide centric, everyone lives / nobody dies au, this was written in two days and it's @karl-raccoon-in-a-teacup's fault /aff

aka: gide becomes elise's bodyguard after the mimic incident

#pidge's fic posts #andre gide #andre bsd #gide bsd #bsd gide #bsd andre #bsd andre gide #andre gide bsd #elise bsd #bsd elise #elise #fic #bsd fic #my fics #my writing #bsd fanfic #this was written in a hell of an autistic frenzy <3 #there will (hopefully) be more

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bosspigeon · 5 months

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my favorite thing about gale is that he delivers all his dialogue in the manner of a too-old-to-be-cool-with-the-kids youngish college professor who is trying really hard to engage his students so he comes off teaching like he's doing a stand-up routine (that he definitely practiced for hours in the mirror/at his cat beforehand) at a local open mic

#pidge speaks #absolutely rizzless #autistic swag off the charts #im enamored #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

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Lance smiles self-deprecatingly. “Jack of all trades, master of none. You know how I am. I’m not really needed for anything.”

Keith could not believe what he was hearing. Lance thought he was unnecessary? Lance?

“Lance, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Look, dude, I don’t need false reassurances. I know I don’t have any specific thing, I’m not like you guys. You guys all have your specialty. You’re important. My specialty is being a stand-in.”

Keith feels his jaw drop at the pure conviction in the Cuban’s voice. How does he not know?

“Lance,” Keith says again, “being the jack of all trades is your thing. There is nothing you can’t do, and I’m not saying that in a frilly, ‘if you just put your mind to it!’ sort-of way. If you choose to do something, genuinely, you can do it. It’s fascinating.”

Lance frowns. “Man, what are you talking about? I’ve never really excelled at anything. Nothing important, anyway. Like, look at you — you’re a master swordsman. You can beat anyone in a duel. It’s awesome. I can’t even come close to that!”

“But why do you have to? Lance, I can’t shoot for shit. On God, unless the target is right in front of me, I cannot hit them with any kind of projectile. But you can use a sword, dude. You might not be an expert, or whatever, but you can hold your own.”

“So what?”

“So that’s what I’m trying to explain! No matter what skill you decide to pick up, you figure it out eventually. You wanted to learn how to read Altean? You did it.”

“I can‘t even speak it!” Lance argues. “I can only read and understand it. I can’t, like, hold a conversation or anything. It’s embarrassing next to Allura or Coran.”

“You are missing the point. You can’t keep comparing yourself to every expert and hating yourself for falling short. Of course you’re not as good as Allura or Coran at Altean. They’re native speakers! How well do they speak Spanish?”

“…They don’t.”

“Exactly! And think of all the other things you were able to do after just, like, reading the instructions. You were able to work the healing pods after a week in space. You’re the only other person on the ship besides Hunk who can make food that Pidge will eat. You figured out how to sew because you were bored and you needed something to do. Hell, Lance, you’re the only one who’s evolved more than one bayard form! And you figured out how to pilot Blue faster than anyone else in their Lion! You don’t have a thing, Lance, and that’s exactly it — you can pick up everyone else’s thing with ease. You’re the most adaptable person I’ve ever met, Lance. Jack of all trades, master of none — but better than a master of one. You’re missing half of the quote.”

Lance is silent for a few minutes, contemplative. “I guess I never considered any of those things skills. They’re just things I can do. They aren’t hard.”

Keith smiles, fond and exasperated. “Not to you, man. No one else can just choose to learn a skill in an hour and do it. That’s a Lance thing. And if you ask me, well. I think you’re pretty wonderful.”

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