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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

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Sleeping has never been easy for Lance. Even as a baby – Mamá had told him that it was a rare night that he slept more than three hours. That followed him all throughout childhood and teenhood, too. He has several specific memories of sneaking out in the dead of night to collect shells that were abundant after the tide pulled in during the early hours of the morning. It’s not that he never sleeps, or anything – usually he makes himself lie in bed for at least 8 hours, so he’s at least rested.

But sometimes he’s just bored. And fucking around at night is fun! It’s so quiet and still, it makes everything feel like an adventure.

Tonight, especially, there’s no chance of him staying in bed and doing nothing. There’s no chance of sleep, either – he’s too excited! In – he checks his watch – ten minutes, he turns eighteen. An adult! In the eyes of the law! Yeah, sure, he’s in actual space fighting a literal war, so it doesn’t matter at all, but still. He’s allowed to be excited.

He taps his hands erratically, humming to himself, trying to pass the time. After what feels like ten minutes, or close to it, he checks his watch again, and – aw, man. It’s only been thirty-four seconds.

He stands up, spinning around until he makes himself dizzy, collapsing in a pile of giggles on the floor. He lies flat on his back and waits until the room stops spinning, and then some. He checks his watch again.

Nine more minutes until midnight.

Seriously? he thinks, Is time passing extra slowly tonight, or something?

He stands back up, jumping and hopping around, trying to think of something fun (or at least minorly amusing) he can do for nine minutes. In the end he decides on just parkouring around the bridge, leaping over chairs and doing cool run-flips off the wall. At one point he tries to use the corner of the wall to vault up to the ceiling, even though he knows it’s futile. He does not reach the ceiling (as it is something like 100 feet up in the air), but he does manage to get high enough that it hurts a little when he falls down, which is dope. (The footprint he leaves about 20 feet up the wall is less dope, and he is going to safely blame it on Keith as soon as possible).

After what he feels is at least ten-ish minutes of dicking around, he checks his watch and is delighted to find that he’s correct – fifteen seconds to midnight! Fifteen seconds until he’s eighteen! He starts counting down aloud, in the quietest whisper he can currently manage at this level of excited (which, honestly, is not that quiet, but if him jumping off the walls didn’t wake the team up then he’s probably fine).

“...Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! ONE!”

As soon as the last count is out of his mouth, before he even has the breath to cheer, a video pops up in front of him.

Lance blinks. “Huh?”

The video is staticky for a second, millions of black and white dots covering the hologram-screen thingy (Altean tech is wack, man). It goes on for a few more seconds, enough that Lance can feel some pressure building behind his eyes, but luckily the static blips away just before a headache starts to form. In place of the static, there’s a man. Lance squints.

Wait.

“Luis?”

The man in the video chuckles, and Lance startles, just now realising that it is a video call.

“I’m not Luis,” says the man, and Lance’s jaw drops, because he knows that voice, even if it’s a little deeper than he’s used to.

“Me?!”

The man – Lance! Older Lance! – laughs again, smiling brightly, and that’s himself, alright. Lance knows what his own damn smile looks like.

“Yep. I’m future you.” Future Him winks. “Pretty hot, huh?”

Lance tilts his head, considering. Future Him smirks and allows it.

Honestly...yeah. He kind of kills it. His face is still pretty and angular, his eyes as brown as ever, and his smile looks the same – but there are definitely some changes. Apparently he goes for a sort-of undercut, in the future, and he has a wicked scar across his left eye. He really does look like his brother, too, only way prettier (sorry, Luis).

“Yeah,” Lance agrees after a few seconds of inspection, “we’re still hot.”

Future Him winks one more time, before his expression drops into something much more serious.

“I didn’t actually call you just to give you a peek of your future serve –”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Future Him ignores that particular comment, although Lance is satisfied to see the corner of his mouth twitch in the way Lance knows damn well means he’s trying not to laugh.

“– I came here to warn you.”

Lance panics immediately, dashing to his chair in the bridge, preparing to pull the alarm and wake the rest of the team. “Why wouldn’t you fucking lead with that, if Zarkon is going to attack we’re gonna need way more time to prepare –”

“It’s not an attack!” Future Him rushes to assure. “Sorry, my bad. I shouldn’t’ve worded it that way. I’m here to warn you, but you’re in no immediate danger.”

Lance glares at him. “Did the future make us dumb?”

Future Him chuckles again, nervously this time, scratching the back of his neck. “I really am sorry. I’m not supposed to say much, but ‘warning’ doesn’t mean ‘Zarkon’ for us anymore. I didn’t think about how that would affect you, dude. My bad.” Future Him says the last part with an embarrassed shrug, but all Lance feels is his whole body light up with a fiery hope.

Zarkon is no longer a concern for us, in the future?

“Really?” he asks weakly. “We end up fixing this shit, eventually?”

“And we get to see Mamá and everyone again,” Future Him adds softly.

Lance sits with that information for a few minutes, feeling something heavy and painful, a weight he didn’t fully realise he was carrying, dissolve in his chest.

He’s gonna see his family again!

After giving him a few minutes to process, Future Him’s face turns serious again. “I do still have a warning for you, though, and it’s kind of time-sensitive.”

“Go for it,” Lance says, mission mode activated. (Despite what the team may tease, they all know Lance can be serious).

“Okay!” Future Him leans out of frame a little, and the sound of rapid typing is faintly audible. “I just sent you a file. Check your station.”

Lance does, on it finding a document with nothing but a list of several coordinates, only a few that he recognises.

“...Coordinates? What for?”

Future Him’s face turns hard, but there’s something… off, about it. Lance can’t quite pin it down.

“This is a list of places you must, never, ever visit,” Future Him responds gravely. “Ever. Just completely off-limits. You’ll thank me, promise.”

Never… ever?

“...Right,” Lance says slowly. He crosses his fingers behind his back. “Of course. I’ll make sure I avoid these places. Got it.”

Future Him brightens, clapping his hands excitedly. “Wonderful!” he chirps. “Anyways, sorry I can’t stay for longer, but I have some stuff to do. Pidge said I couldn’t tell you much, anyhow, something about the space-time continuum. See ya!”

He waves, and Lance waves back, and then the hologram disappears. Lance waits a few minutes, looking around, just in case Future Him decides to pop back up.

When no future video pops up, Lance grins, uncrossing his fingers and sending the coordinates list to his holopad. He scrambles up from his chair, rushing out of the room and straight to Blue’s hangar.

He really must have gotten dumber in the future, because Future Him is a moron if he thinks Lance is not going to hit each one of these locations immediately.

In order, too.

#okay the rest of this is coming tomorrow!! check back in like 20ish hours!!#(i have to sleep and go to work lol)#vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #adhd lance #lance has adhd #autistic lance #julance 2022 #HAPPY BIRTHDAY LANCE #brown eyed lance #menace lance #but with love

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fauxghosts · 2 years

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JULANCE PROMPTS!

Please reblog if using!

Feel free to combine prompts, skip days, etc! Have fun! <3

#lance mcclain #julance #julance prompts #julance 2022 #voltron lance #Voltron: Legendary Defender

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scorpiondreamer · 2 years

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It’s still Julance and his birthday only passed recentky so this counts ;~;

I’m still getting used to this so pls be nice, digital art is weird for me still, and

I’m proudly of him though 💙💙 I miss lance and I’m still so mad at his story line, but I’m proud of him and in my head he is happiest

#lance mcclain #lance voltron #julance #julance 2022 #happy birthday lance #voltron #voltron legendary defender #digital art #messy sketch #art #medibang #medibandpaint #fanart #klance

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whatisgrass · 2 years

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Keith: say happy birthday to lance or else 😒🔪

Literal anyone with zero respect for Lance: why should I?

Keith:

#happy birthday lance #lance's birthday #voltron legendary disaster #lance mcclain #julance #julance 2022 #keith kogane #like why wouldn't you #you actual menace

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aprxl-showers · 2 years

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julance day 3: keith and lance

read for: diners, summer rain, soy milkshakes, lance finding keith desperately hot, extensive slander of the name kyle and lots of fluff

#my writing #my posts #klance #julance #julance 2022 #lance mcclain #keith kogane

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE UNIVERSE’S CUTEST PROTECTER ILY TO THE BEST CHARACTER EVER CREATED

[Photo I.D.: A picture of Lance McClain winking and shooting a double-barrelled finger gun in his paladin armour. End I.D.]

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY LANCE #julance 2022 #lance mcclain #my BELOVED

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klance-daydreams · 2 years

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just your (not so) average loverboy

from @vldlance julance prompt list

#happyy julanceeee #julance #julance 2022 #lance #lance voltron #lance mcclain #lance fanart #vld lance #vld fanart #u are welcome lance simps #klancedayart

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

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part one part two part three

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For as long as she can remember, Allura has been an early riser. It was not really something she chose to be, but rather something that happened – she was simply energised in the morning. She had also often enjoyed spending quiet mornings with her father, before the two of them started with their numerous daily responsibilities.

It’s something she misses dearly.

But with or without her father, she still enjoys her early mornings. Today is no exception. She greets the mice, walking over to her ensuite washroom to prepare for the day. Once she is dressed and refreshed, she heads to the kitchens, idly hoping that Hunk made those ‘overnight oat’ things he makes occasionally. She’s quite fond of human food, actually. It’s very flavourful.

To her surprise, however, she does not see a dark and empty kitchen with the hope of food in the fridge, but rather Hunk, Lance, and Coran all gathered in the kitchen, making a fresh breakfast. She nearly opens her mouth to ask if there’s an occasion, but remembers at the last second that today is Lance’s birthday and Hunk must have woken early to make something special for him.

“Happy birthday, Lance!” she calls as she walks into the room. Lance beams at her immediately, waving excitedly, and she smiles. His excitement is very infectious, as always.

“Hi, ‘Lura! I’m 18! I’m a whole legal adult, now!”

“Any special plans, now that you are a ‘whole legal adult’?”

Lance sticks his tongue out at her teasing, which isn't unusual, but what is unusual is the shine of a metallic blue stud. Allura gasps.

“Did you get a tongue piercing?”

“Yeah! I also got this and this!” Lance points to a new scar with one hand, and to a tattoo with the other.

Allura pauses for a minute, taking all that information in. “You’ve had a busy night, I see,” she says eventually.

“It’s a long story,” Hunk says wryly as he pours some batter into a pan.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Allura promises, climbing up on the counter next to Lance. Hunk gives them both a deadpan look, having admonished them about sitting on the counter several dozen times before, but evidently decides to let it go this one time.

Allura and Lance smirk at each other. Score.

There’s a moment of silence, no one explaining anything, that stretches on for long enough that Allura raises an eyebrow.

“Well?”

Lance flops over dramatically, head on Allura’s shoulder. “I’ve been awake for a very long time. I’m too tired to explain again.” He gratefully accepts a juicebox from Hunk, sticking the straw in his mouth before turning sleepy eyes to Coran. “Can you tell her? I’m gonna nap quickly.”

Coran chuckles, patting Lance gently on the head and nodding his assent. Lance thanks him and closes his eyes immediately, trying to slow his breathing and actually take that nap. Allura shifts forms a tad, making her shoulder softer, trying to actually get him to sleep. Hunk, Allura, and Coran wait with bated breath, all well-accustomed to Lance’s particular brand of insomnia, as Lance’s breathing eventually does even out and he starts to droop. The juicebox falls out of his mouth, and Allura gently plucks it from Lance’s loosening grip, setting it on a clear place on the counter.

“It seems Number Four got a special visitor at the stroke of midnight,” Coran begins quietly. “A future version of himself, he says. Gave him a list of coordinates he was never to visit, under any circumstances.”

Allura snorts. “And this future version of Lance believed this order to be anything but enticing? He may as well have told Lance to visit these places directly. That might have deterred him, actually.”

Hunk shrugs, grinning. “Who knows. All the places so far have been fine, though, so I don’t feel the need to stop him. I’ve been having fun, actually.”

“Where have the locations been?”

“He did the first three on his own – one of those time dilation planets, specifically a tropical planet, a dragon’s den, and a piercing parlour. He came to get me for the fourth location because he needed a wormhole. We watched a star go supernova, it was very exciting,” Coran says.

“And then I joined them and he and I got tattoos,” Hunk continues, showing off the tat on his leg as well. “And that’s it so far. I convinced him to break for food and rest.”

Allura hums, gently resting her head on top of Lance’s. He doesn’t move, actually out for once. “Seems he’s had a very busy night.”

“That he has,” Coran agrees, looking at Lance fondly. Hunk does the same, before sliding the pan into the oven and setting a thirty-minute timer.

“I’m going to go get dressed,” he announces, “because I imagine we will be doing lots more today and I’d rather not be doing it in clothes I’ve been wearing since yesterday. If I’m not back before the oven goes off, ‘Lura, will you take out the pan and flip it onto that big plate over there? I’d ask Coran, but I don’t trust him to touch anything in the kitchen. Sorry, Coran.”

Coran huffs and Allura laughs, promising she’ll follow instructions and shooing the Yellow Paladin off.

“I wish more days could be like this,” Allura confesses suddenly, after a prolonged silence. “I mean, I love leading the Coalition, I love doing what we’re doing. I do! I know it’s the right thing to do. I know it’s what we have to do. And I would never dream of abandoning Father’s legacy –”

“Allura,” Coran interrupts, placing a gentle and paternal hand on her head. “I don’t doubt you. I also don’t blame you for being tired. You’re working very hard, child, all of you are. Of course you don’t want to be working all the time, and I’m sorry that you have to. You needn’t feel guilty for finding joy in the peace you can get.”

“‘Sides, you do more than anyone else,” Lance adds, voice groggy. “If you’re worried about not working hard enough, then I’m fucked.”

“How long have you been awake?”

Lance yawns. “I was never fully out. Heard you guys talking, but I was too drowsy to respond.”

“Eavesdropper.”

Allura rests her head back on top of Lance’s, having moved it when she heard him speak. He reaches over and grabs her hand, playing with her fingers as he does whenever he’s a little nervous about something he wants to say.

“I’m serious, though, ‘Lura. You work so hard. We’d be a mess without you. Please take a break.”

“Well-spoken, lad,” Coran agrees.

“Alright, alright, I understand,” Allura concedes. She smiles at Coran, then turns her head slightly to peck Lance on his hair. “I work hard. I’ll –” The oven beeps as before she can finish her sentence, and she nudges Lance over so she can get up and grab the pan out before it burns. The faint sweet smell that was filling the kitchen amplifies as she opens the oven, making everyone perk up and look over curiously, watching as Allura follows Hunk’s instructions. She flips the pan over onto the plate, then lifts it up slowly, and gasps as the cake is revealed – a regularly sweet, golden-brown cake, except for a layer of fruit and dark syrup on the top.

“Pineapple upside-down cake!” Lance exclaims. He doesn’t hesitate for even a second before grabbing a fork and stealing a mouthful. He sighs as he chews, looking for all the world that he’s finally seen peace. “God, Hunk is a genius.”

Coran looks the same amount of hesitant and intrigued that Allura feels.

“Pine… apple?” Allura asks, head tilted.

Lance scoops another forkful, seemingly unafraid of any future wrath from Hunk. “It’s a fruit,” he explains, “a really fucking good one, holy shit. Sweet and tart. Try some!”

“You best mean try some on a plate, Leandro Agustín. Stop eating my damn cake out of the pan. That’s disgusting.”

Hunk has finally returned, looking very refreshed, and is playfully glaring, hands on his hips. Everyone in this room knows damn well Hunk can’t stay mad at Lance, including Hunk himself.

“It’s just too good!” Lance says, grabbing another forkful. “I couldn’t wait for a plate. You’re the best. I love you.”

Hunk snorts, finally giving up on the glare. He grabs four plates and a large knife, hip-checking Lance out of the way to cut the cake properly.

“You don’t love me,” he teases, “you love my cooking abilities, menace.”

“I can love both things!”

Allura smiles fondly at the two friends, gratefully accepting her plate and taking a hesitant bite (she usually is quite fond of Earth food, but sometimes the food is very strange. Remembering how milkshakes are made still makes her shudder).

But holy shit, it’s delicious. The cake is warm and decadent, the sweet tang of the pineapple and the smoothness of the syrup all coming together to make Allura feel as if she’s just consumed pure bliss. Lance’s earlier expression suddenly makes sense.

“Stars above, Hunk,” Allura says, shovelling the cake into her mouth as fast as she can. Coran does the same.

Hunk looks pleased.

“I’m glad you like it. Leave some for everyone else, though. Keith and Pidge will get grouchy if they don’t get any, and Shiro will get that sad puppy look.”

“So let’s wake them up!” Coran suggests. “Then they can fight for it like the rest of us.”

“Nope, not happening,” Lance says firmly. “Shiro is having a really good night tonight, I checked on him earlier. No one will be waking him up before we absolutely have to. And I conned Pidge and Keith into going to bed early, ‘cause they need the sleep too. They’ll come join us when they wake up naturally.”

“Heaven forbid you con yourself into going to bed early,” Hunk mutters.

Allura can’t help but agree.

“Meh, I’m working on it,” Lance dismisses. “But I’m awake now, so it’s moot point. Anyways, are you guys almost done? I want to go to the next location!”

The rest of the group responds in various different little ‘yeesh, okay’s, and everyone hurries to finish their breakfast. No need to keep the birthday boy waiting.

They make their way to the bridge, Allura reading the coordinates list before taking her turn at the podium, getting a wormhole ready. She closes her eyes, envisioning where they need to be, and when she opens them again, they’ve landed directly on an uninhabited planet, covered in desert as far as the eyes can see (and Altean eyes can see pretty far).

“Well that’s… a little boring,” Lance admits.

“Maybe it’s less boring on the actual surface?”

They follow Hunk’s suggestion, making their way down to the sandy wasteland. They don’t plan to, but they spread out a little, all trying to find a glimpse of something on this planet. Literally anything that isn't rocks or sand.

“Perhaps we mixed up the coordinates?” Coran suggests.

Allura shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so, I –” Allura trips over a rock, sending herself sprawling to the ground. She stands back up quickly, unhurt, but definitely embarrassed. She scowls as Lance and Hunk giggle, and kicks the stupid rock in question.

It goes flying, taking the camouflaged tarp it was attached to with it.

In place of the rock and tarp (or presumably under them), lay hundreds of thousands of sticks of what look to be dynamite, in two distinct piles, and two giant plunger detonators. Everyone freezes, gaping at the giant pile. The detonators have very long wires.

Long enough for a group of reckless teenagers (and perhaps one adventurous adult) to stand far away from any damage and perhaps set all the dynamite off.

“You know, we were just talking about stress relief,” Lance comments, sending a smirk to Allura.

Allura smirks right back. “That we were.”

Immediately, Allura and Coran surge forward, grabbing the giant detonators (Hunk and Lance sit that part out by virtue of “we aren’t the ones with superstrength”) and hauling them as far away as they can get, which turns out to be over half a mile.

“Are we safe this far away?” Hunk asks nervously. Coran nods.

“Yep! More than, I’d say.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Lance demands, grabbing Allura’s hands and placing them on one end of the plunger. He grabs the other.

“Ready?” he yells, grin wide and manic.

“Ready!”

They push down the plunger as hard as they can, and one of the piles explodes immediately. The explosion is huge, loud, and rattles the ground, making everyone very glad they’d thrown on their helmets beforehand. A huge mushroom cloud poofs up into the air, fire and smoke shooting thin tendrils into the sky. It takes several minutes for the ground to stop trembling and the fires to die down.

“That. Was. Awesome!” Lance yells, pumping his fist. Allura feels adrenaline sing through her veins, and her smile matches Lance’s. The weight she was holding earlier seems to have gone up in the smoke.

“Hell yeah it was!” Hunk cheers, and Allura joins them.

“That was so much fun!”

“What the hell was that?” comes a voice from their helmets, startling them all. They look back over to the Castle through the large front window, and see Pidge, Keith, and Shiro gathered on the bridge in various states of disarray. It is in that exact moment that Allura realises that a) they’re not currently in space, but on a planet, b) sounds travels very easily on planets, c) that explosion was really fucking loud, and d) loud noises tend to wake sleeping people. Oops.

Lance is the first to recover.

“That was dynamite!” he responds through the comms, “happy birthday to me! Get your helmets on and come join us!”

There’s a moment of hesitation, before Keith shrugs, grabbing his helmet and sprinting over to join them. Pidge and Shiro aren’t far behind.

“Is your birthday gift to yourself just a bunch of TNT?” Keith asks once he’s close enough.

Lance shrugs. “Long story, not currently important. Wanna help us blow up that second pile?”

Keith doesn’t hesitate to grin, nodding, and he follows Lance and Allura to detonator #2. Shiro snorts, shaking his head, but Allura knows he’s just as excited to see things to boom as the rest of them.

“Ready?” Lance calls again, and everyone shouts their assent.

“3…2…1!”

Allura, Lance, and Keith slam down the plunger, and this explosion was even better than the last one! Maybe it’s because more people were pushing the plunger, or maybe it was because the pile seemed a little bigger, but regardless – huge dynamite pile go BOOM, stress go bye-bye.

It’s great.

Allura laughs, turning to Lance and grinning at him. “I cannot wait to see the rest of these locations.”

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

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part one

--- --- ---

The slow and careful creaking of his door opening is what wakes Coran from his slumber. The next thing he hears is quiet footsteps, slow and careful, like a lion cub carefully sneaking up on its mother.

Coran grumbles, squeezing his eyes shut tighter and tensing in wait. He knows exactly what’s coming.

“Coran!” comes a whispered yell, right before 140 pounds of scrawny Latino human comes running and landing on top of Coran’s poor body in a flop. “Coran Coran Coran you need to wake up –” Lance needles, shaking the Altean’s shoulder.

“Oof,” Coran groans, feeling his very bones creak. He sighs, although he can’t help the smile taking over his face. “It is early, Lance. I am old. Go back to bed. Wake me up in the morning.”

Lance’s knee digs into the Altean’s back as he moves, turning around to flop on his back (still on top of Coran, of course).

“But the sky’s awake, so I’m awake,” Lance huffs theatrically. Coran can imagine him throwing a dramatic elbow over his eyes.

"It’s the middle of the night, child. You are growing. You need sleep.”

“That’s not true anymore!” Lance says excitedly, squirming around some more. “It’s past midnight! It’s my birthday! I’m 18 years old!” He shakes Coran’s shoulder again, and Coran opens one bleary eye, taking in Lance’s blinding beam and flapping hand. “I’m an adult now!”

18? Adult? Please.

“If your argument to your newfound adulthood and lack of further growth is that you have completed 18 trips around your sun, then I have some shocking news for you, dear.”

Lance pouts at him, and Coran groans one more time, before hefting himself up.

“No need to pout, Number Four. I’m up.”

Lance claps his hands, elated, and Coran smiles fondly as he drags himself out of bed.

“Okay okay okay! Meet me at the bridge! I already went to three locations, but I need your help to get to the fourth, so meet me there!”

…Locations?

Lance rushes out of the room before Coran can ask further questions.

Suspicious.

Coran shrugs, changing out of his blue silk pajamas into his royal attendant uniform. He doesn’t have to wear it, not anymore, but he likes wearing it. It was designed especially for him, after all. (And any memory from Altea always brings him deep comfort, even with the accompanying painful sting of loss).

Coran takes his sweet time strolling to the bridge, enjoying the quiet of the night. He finally arrives after several minutes of walking, and he pauses at the door, grinning as he watches the Blue Paladin dance around the bridge.

Lance twirls around, humming to himself, stopping abruptly when he sees Coran, nearly falling right over.

“Coran! You’re here! Let’s go!”

Coran squints at him.

“Leandro Agustìn,” Coran scolds as he’s heard Hunk do several dozen times, “is that a scar on your face?”

Lance smiles sheepishly. “Location 2 was a dragon’s den, it was wicked. She thought I was attacking her at first so she scratched me, but then we bonded and we’re friends now! She even let me keep this cool diamond.” Lance pulls a diamond seemingly from thin air, roughly the size of his face. Coran raises an eyebrow. He decides not to address the fact that Lance approached an actual dragon on his own, because honestly Lance is excellent with dangerous animals and has yet to give Coran a reason to doubt his abilities, and he has remained in one piece, so Coran’s not going to push the matter.

“Lance, child, you have not yet explained what these ‘locations’ are,” Coran reminds him. “I’m a little lost.”

“Oh! Right!”

Lance strides over to his station, grabbing his holopad and hurrying back to Coran. He flips it over, showing Coran a document with nothing on it but a few coordinates, no context at all.

“So this future version of me visited me at midnight,” he says casually. “We chatted for a bit, but he told me the reason he contacted me was because there was a list of locations he needed to show me that I am not, under any circumstance, meant to visit. So I ignored him immediately, obviously. The first location was this cool beach planet about a twenty minute flight from here – the time there ran differently, so I got to spend like two days scuba diving and it was my birthday the whole time! Only, like, a half-hour had passed when I got back to the Castle. Isn’t that cool? And look, these are all the shells I got!”

He pulls out a huge bag of shells, also seemingly from nowhere. Coran blinks at him.

“Oh, wow,” he says, leaning forward to inspect them closer, “these are beautiful shells! Excellent eye, my boy!”

Lance beams at him. “Thank you! They were fun to collect.” He sets the bag down carefully on his chair, then turns back to Coran. “The last location I’ve been to so far was this piercing place! Look!” He sticks out his tongue, showing off a blue stud nestled proudly in the muscle.

Coran grins. “That explains the lisp.”

Lance closes his mouth, smile sliding right back into place. “Yep! I don’t mind it though, I look so cool. My sister has a tongue piercing, I’ve always wanted one, so I was so pumped to pull up at the parlour.”

“Those sound like excellent adventures, Lance.”

“They were! The rest of the coordinates are too far to reach in Blue, though. That’s why I need your help!”

“For wormholes?”

“Yep! The next set of coordinates is in the Seflarn quadrant.”

“Oh, that’s quite a distance away,” Coran agrees, walking over to the podium. He stands with his hands above the controls, and Lance sits on the floor (he has informed Coran in the past of his hatred for chairs). Coran’s eyes glow as his palms make contact with the controls as his quintessence connects and intertwines with the quintessence from the Balmeran crystal. In one second he’s envisioning the notorious emptiness of the Seflarn galaxy, in the next, they’ve arrived. Lance is the first of them to move, rushing forward to the control board and leaning as far as he can over it.

“Whoa,” Lance says as he takes in the galaxy before him, “this bitch is empty. Yeet, I guess. Damn.”

Coran doesn’t know what half of those words mean, but he understands the sentiment. “Yes, child. This galaxy is very, very old. Most of it has already faded away. In a few thousand years, it shall simply be empty space.”

“Hey, what’s that over there?” Lance asks, pointing to a growing flash of bright light a ways to the left. Coran squints at it, considering, and they both realise what it is at the same time, gasping.

“A supernova! Happening right now! At this very second!” Lance exclaims. Coran rushes over to join him by the giant window, so he can see it better.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a star go supernova,” Coran comments.

“This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Lance breathes, and Coran chuckles.

“I take it you’ve never seen one before?”

Lance shakes his head, not taking his eyes off the star for even a second. Coran smiles, quietly taking in the boy’s wide-eyed wonder. To say Lance looks awed is an understatement.

It’s very sweet.

“Coran, Coran, look! It’s really starting to explode! Oh, wow, it’s so bright!”

Coran glances at the star, briefly, but finds himself looking back at Lance. He’s seen a supernova before, but it’s been a long time since he’s seen Lance look so elated. He knows which sight he will cherish more.

Lance continues to supply a running commentary, eyes glued to the fiery explosion. As the life of the star comes to an end, and the light finally fades away, Lance looks back towards Coran. He is shaking with glee.

“That. Was. So. Cool!” he yells, pumping his fists.

“That it was, dear boy,” Coran agrees, although the brightness he’s envisioning did not come from a star. “That it was.”

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

Text

part one

part two

———

Hunk wakes up groggy and confused. Why is he awake? He doesn’t usually wake up in the middle of the night. That’s more Lance’s thing.

Wait.

Lance.

He shoots straight up, heart pounding, turning desperate and bleary eyes to the oven’s clock. He finds, to his horror, that it is currently three in the morning, meaning three hours past midnight, meaning he fucking missed the chance to wish Lance his first happy birthday of the day.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he curses, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and rushes the finish icing the damn cupcake he apparently fell asleep trying to decorate. It’s not like Lance will be mad at him, or anything. But the two of them have had the midnight birthday wishes tradition going on for years, and Hunk is upset to have been the one to break that streak. And on such an important birthday, no less!

He finally finishes icing the cupcake, sticking a candle in it and shoving a lighter in his pocket. He slides the cupcake onto Lance's favourite plate (it’s the only plate in the set with a tiny chip on the side, and as with most broken or disliked things, Lance loves it for the simple reason that no one else does), and pauses, taking a deep breath. He’s already late. It’s done, it cannot be undone. Continuing to fret about it will only make him frazzled and upset, and he doesn’t want to be frazzled and upset. He wants to celebrate his best friend’s birthday. Once he feels calm enough, he heads over to Lance’s room, peeking his head in.

No Lance.

That’s not unusual. Lance is the worst sleeper Hunk knows, and likes to wander around. There’s a list of other places he tends to frequent, and Hunk checks the list off one by one – observation deck, pool, Keith’s room (not that Lance would ever admit to spending a ridiculous amount of time hanging out with Keith, but Hunk knows better), Pidge’s workshop, the long-range training deck, the sewing room – but Lance isn’t in any one of them. At this point, Hunk is starting to freak himself out again, so he decides to stop and approach the situation a little more rationally.

Lance could be anywhere, really. He likes to explore. Hunk could spend another fifteen minutes searching for him, or he could just borrow Pidge’s B.L.I.P. reader and find him immediately. Hunk doubles back towards Pidge’s workshop, quickly locating the device and booting it up.

Ah, Lance is on the bridge. And he’s with Coran, apparently. Hunk quickly makes his way over, finding Lance and Coran deep in conversation about the differences in Altean and Terran precipitation.

Nerds.

He clears his throat to make his presence known, and is a little pleased to see how quickly Lance lights up as soon as he sees Hunk. He knows Lance loves him, obviously, but nothing boosts your confidence like someone’s first reaction to your presence being overwhelming joy.

God, Hunk loves his best friend.

“Hunk!” Lance greets, waving him over. “Come sit with us!”

“Happy birthday, Lance!” Hunk says as he walks over. He holds the cupcake in front of him, which makes Lance clap his hands and then hold them out expectantly. He hands Lance the plate, and Lance wastes no time squeezing his eyes shut and making a wish before blowing out the candle.

“What’d you wish for?” Hunk asks, like he does every year.

Lance makes a face at him, like he does every year. “It’s like you want my wish to not come true.”

Coran looks intrigued. “Humans have the power to negate wishes simply by hearing them?”

“No, no, that’s just a superstition,” Hunk assures.

“No it’s not!” Lance argues. “The only time my birthday wish didn’t come true was the time I told you I wished for a pet black widow in grade three!”

Hunk just shakes his head in fond exasperation, deciding not to mention the fact in no universe would Mrs. McClain ever allow tiny, clumsy, excitable baby Lance to have a deadly venomous spider as a pet.

“Anyways,” Lance continues, changing the subject. “Guess what I’ve done for my birthday so far!”

Hunk raises an eyebrow. “In the three hours since midnight, you’ve managed to do something specific?”

“You’d be surprised,” Coran comments, chuckling.

Honestly, Hunk has known Lance long enough that he doubts it.

“I got a visit from my future self telling me a list of places I shouldn’t ever visit so I visited them and they were so fun!”

Hunk blinks. Huh. That is surprising. He stands corrected.

“And I got a bunch of cool shells and I met a dragon and she gave me a really cool face scar –” Hunk does a double take, noticing that yes, Lance does have a new scar running from just above his left eyebrow to just below his cheekbone, what the fuck – “and also this huge diamond and I got this tongue piercing and I got to watch a real live supernova! Isn’t that the coolest thing in the world!”

Hunk barely understood the last couple part’s of Lance’s sentence, as Lance had his tongue stuck out to show off his piercing, but he gets the gist.

You know what? This isn’t even the craziest thing Lance has gotten into. It really isn’t. That title remains for the time trained a raccoon to attack on sight and almost got Hunk’s childhood bully scratched to death. (They were 9 at the time.)

“Alright,” Hunk says tiredly, because being friends with Lance is really just Like That sometimes. “I’m assuming you’re trying to hit every location on the list?”

“Of course!” Lance says cheerfully, and honestly? Hunk won’t lie. It sounds kind of fun. Besides, if Lance’s future self hasn’t popped back up to stop them, then it’s probably okay.

“Prepare yourself for the next wormhole jump, lads,” Coran says, and off they go.

When the wormhole aftermath clears, they find themselves right in front of what looks to be a very busy Earth, if Earth was pink and orange.

“The coordinates for this location are some of the more specific ones, like the third one, so it’s probably a specific place on the planet,” Lance explains, “so we’ll have to take Blue.”

The three of them make their merry way towards the Blue Lion’s hangar, and Lance pilots them down to the planet’s surface with no issues (and only one random and nausea-inducing barrel roll, but Hunk allows it because it is Lance’s birthday and he’s allowed to do dumbass things on his birthday. That’s, like, the rule).

Lance leads them through an incredibly busy city, through crowded roads and twisted alleyways, until he stops right in front of what seems to be a tattoo parlour.

“Sick!” Lance cheers. “More impulse body modification! Awesome!”

Hunk and Coran share an amused look.

“Do you even want a tattoo?” Hunk asks.

“Yes, obviously. I want, like, 200, but I’ll settle for maybe six.”

“You’ll be here all day, child,” Coran reminds him.

“Ugh, I forgot about stupid time,” Lance pouts, making Hunk huff and nudge him in the side.

“How about we get that matching tattoo we’ve been wanting to get for a while?” he suggests.

Lance brightens immediately. “Yes yes yes! The goggles?”

They had the idea when they were about fifteen. They’ve been friends all their lives, a team in every possible way, but there had been something especially exciting about being on an actual team together, for the first time at the Garrison – the engineer and the pilot. They’d wanted a way to commemorate that, and both wanted a symbol that was common between them but different enough to be individual, as well. They’d come up with the idea of aviator goggles and welding goggles – same concept, entirely different functions, entirely intertwined. As dorky as it was, Hunk found it charming.

“The goggles,” he agrees.

They make their way into the tattoo parlour, luckily pretty empty at this hour, Lance explaining the concept to Coran as Hunk sorts out payment with the receptionist. Twenty minutes later, they’re both sat on giant, leather chairs that remind Hunk of the dentist’s office.

“Where are these tattoos going to be, gentlemen?” the artist asks.

Hunk and Lance turn to look at each other.

“Any ideas?” Hunk asks.

“What if he got them on our legs? Like, side of the calf, right above our ankles?”

“Hugely specific,” Hunk notes. “Why that place particularly?”

“Our first team was the engineer and the pilot. Our new team, our most important team, is the Legs of Voltron. I think it’d be a cool reminder,” Lance explains.

Hunk grins at him, and then nods at the artist. “That sounds perfect.”

The artist – who almost looks like a humanoid octopus slash iguana, and works on them both simultaneously which is so cool – gets right to work.

Lance and Hunk inhale sharply at the exact same time, because holy shit, that hurts more than they expected. Like, they’re Paladins of Voltron, sure, but yeesh. It turns out that a very sharp needle stabbing in and out at 3000 times per minute and dragging through their skin actually does hurt a whole lot, Jesus Lord Above.

Lance reaches out a hand, and Hunk does not hesitate to grab and squeeze it. They keep their hands clutched the whole time the artist works, which honestly doesn’t take long because the tattoos aren’t that big.

On their way back to the castle, after the artist flashes some sort of light on their fresh tattoos which heals them immediately (space is so cool, man), Coran sends Hunk a photo to his holopad, one he took while the artist was working.

It’s a picture of Lance and Hunk, hands held together tightly, grinning at each other as their matching tattoos are nearly finished. It’s abundantly clear how excited they are, how much they care about each other. Hunk makes it his lockscreen immediately, thanking Coran profusely.

It may be Lance’s birthday, but that photo is honestly one of the best gifts Hunk has ever received.

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