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the-kittens-of-vol-tron · 1 year

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Magic

Based off my head canon here!

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Crying.

So much crying.

Keith thought he was going to pull his hair out of his scalp. He needed that crying to stop. He chewed on his inner cheek, he was losing his mind.

“Okay...singing? Maybe they like singing.” Hunk scratched his head in thought.

“Oh! Oh! I know just the song!” Lance started softly singing a song to the child he was holding. Did the kid start crying louder?

“Lance just stop!!” Keith shouted some, covering his ears with his head. If he didn’t get some sort of relief from that sound he was going to cry.

Everyone stared at him, the kid still crying in Lance’s arms.

“What? You don’t like my singing?” Lance angrily questioned.

Keith shook his head, “it wasn’t helping.” He scrunched his eyes closed, keeping his hands hovering over his ears.

“Well do you have a better idea mullet? Everyone has given some idea of how to help and you’ve just been silently looking in pain.” Lance began to bounce the kid up and down slightly as he hugged them tighter. “Shhh, it’s okay. We’ll find your parents soon.”

The others were talking but it all melted in Keith's mind. He felt like he was going insane. A thought popped into his head and he dropped his hands. “Put them down.”

The team stared at him questionably. “What?” Lance said, holding the child away from him some.

Keith groaned, “just put the kid down for a second. I have an idea.”

It took Lance a couple of moments but he eventually placed the kid on the ground. Kneeling next to him.

Keith lowered himself down, trying his best to offer a smile to the kid. The kid was still crying, rubbing their eyes. New tears quickly replaced the ones wiped away.

Keith took a deep breath, “look at this.” He showed the child his empty hand and reached behind their ear. Revealing a GAC piece.

The kid stared at him, the sobbing sound lessening some. Lance made a questioning noise beside the kid but Keith ignored it. He did the same trick on the other ear, pressing the two coins into the kid's hand.

“Let me see your hand.”

The kid stuck their empty hand out. Sniffling slightly. But no longer crying.

Keith could already feel himself calming down some. “Make a fist.”

The kid squeezed their hand shut.

Keith snapped his finger's over their closed hand. “Okay, open it.”

The kid did, their eyes widening at a green form ball in their hand. “Wh-what?”

Keith smiled at them, “close your hand again.”

The kid did and Keith snapped his fingers again. “Go ahead and look.”

The kid smiled as they opened their hand and saw another ball. Keith kept the tricks going. Doing as many as he could with what he had access to. The kid stopped crying, taking favor of giggling instead.

“Silas! There you are!” Two women rushed towards them, tears streaking their faces. Shiro jogged behind them, looking relieved.

“Mama! Mommy! This guy knows magic!” The kid cried back.

Keith stood up, watching the kid be reunited with their parents. Ignoring the stares Lance directed at him.

---

He stepped out of his lion, he was tired. All he wanted to do was climb into his bed and lay in the dark. Lay in silence.

He made it a couple of steps out of his hanger when he heard footsteps rushing behind him. He didn’t grab his weapon, they were familiar. “What do you want Lance?”

The blue paladin skidded to a stop behind him. “HOW DID YOU DO THAT!”

Keith sighed, turning around to face his team member. “Do what?”

“THE-THE MAGIC!”

Keith waved him off, “it was just something I learned while living in the desert. Nothing too impressive.”

Lance stuttered some sounds, clearly not wanting the conversation to end there. “Show me!”

Keith shook his head.

Lance marched closer, “show me how you did that right now.”

Keith shook his right arm some, his fingers catching the card that slid down. He held it up, it was the Ace of Spades. Lance stared at it with a mix of confusion and wonder.

Keith twisted the card around his fingers, letting it charge to the King of Hearts.

Lance’s jaw might have well been on the floor. He was still like a statue.

Keith let the card slide back down his sleeve and made his way to his room. He was tired.

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You can read Keith as autistic. That’s how I wrote him

Hope you liked it!!! <3

#autistic keith #autistic author #magic keith #party magic #keith #keith vld #keith voltron #keith kogane #keith voltron legendary defender #lance #lance vld #lance voltron #lance voltron legendary defender #lance mcclain #based off my prompt

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marella-moon · 2 months

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check out my new totally original character for dnd not based on anyone at all

#uhhh #ravnica #mtg #magic the gathering #dungeons and dragons #dnd #legally i dont think i can tag this as original character #cos its clearly cough keith moon cough cough #keith moon #the who

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autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

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prev chapter

“Just – don’t do it, Lance. I don’t want you to end up in the west wing, or things are going to get bad in here.”

If Lance is being entirely honest, he has no desire to deviate from Hunk’s directions. At least he didn’t. If Hunk hadn’t said anything, it probably wouldn’t have even occurred to Lance to go to the west wing anyway. This is the second time he has been warned away from the west wing, now. If Lance was curious before, he’s burning with it now.

But Hunk is his friend, and he’s doing him a favour, so he bites his tongue and nods his head and walks down the way Hunk instructed him too. It helps that he’s ravenous, and is more focused on food than anything.

But he won’t lie and say that he doesn’t have to force himself away from dark hallways and beckoning shadows.

———

“Oh, Lance, hello!” Colleen greets him enthusiastically when he walks in the door. Lance wiggles his fingers at her in a small wave. “I’m glad you came out, dear. I was worried.”

“Got hungry.”

“Of course, of course. Sal, heat up the food, will you?”

The giant wood burning stove in the corner of the kitchen chugs to life, vent forming an enthusiastic grin. The sound of frying meat and salted potatoes fill the air, making Lance’s mouth water.

The kitchen is quiet at this time of night; warm. It makes him think of his Abuela, on the many nights when neither of them could sleep, guiding his hands as he kneaded dough, sliced meat, prepared vegetables. Things he can do easily, now, without thinking, in a way he has never been able to do with a plow or bailer. Things that form callouses on the tips of his fingers rather than the pad of his palm.

He shakes his head, shoving the thoughts in the back of his mind. It doesn’t matter, now. The food is warm and smells heavenly, and more importantly, there’s no screaming fiancé to reckon with.

He scarfs back the food so quickly his stomach aches, forgetting to be self conscious. Colleen’s laughter is only teasing, after all, and there is no one else to see it. He smiles sheepishly at her and wishes her goodnight as he finishes his third plate, watching her hop off to a cabinet.

Slowly the lights in the kitchen fade as candles burn low and the embers of the oven start to die out, shadows shifting on the cluttered walls and full shelves. Lance picks up one of the newer candles before the kitchen goes completely dark, placing it gently in a (non-animated, thankfully) teacup to guide him down the corridors. He remembers Hunk’s instructions, pausing for a moment to flip them in his head so he won’t get lost in the wide, dark hallways – left, left, right; now left, right, right. Stick to the path.

He walks out of the kitchen, closing the heavy door gently so as to not wake anyone. He takes his time, not quite comfortable in the dark but not quite afraid, either; his shoes, worn and thin, provide a light enough cover that he can almost feel the smooth marble floors on the soles of his feet, and his free hand traces along the wall as he walks, feeling the rough bricks and occasional soft tapestries. He keeps his candle close to his face, both to help him see and to try and soak up some of the tiny flame’s warmth. His cloak is back in the servant’s quarters – his room – and the castle is warmer than outside but barely.

His fingers brush over a soft tapestry, threads so thin and tightly woven he can barely feel the difference between them, and then brick again, and then air. He pauses, holding his candle a little further from his eyes and squinting to make out what’s in front of him.

Difficult to see in the low candlelight, a massive stained glass window towers in front of him. The colours are too dark to make out, but when he places the candle at the base of the window and steps back, he can see the vague shapes of a young man, tall and regal and dark-haired, holding a sword and standing in front of a castle. Below him are panels of farmland and forest, and beside him are orchards, vills, estates. Above him, to the right, is a shining sun. To the left, a crescent moon.

Left, right, right. Don’t veer off the path.

Lance bites his lip, and follows the path of the moon.

The corridor, somehow, seems colder. As if the bricks are further away from the sun, no longer leaching the warmth collected as it was shining. The darkness seems blacker, too; heavier almost, and soon his candle burns down to the base, extinguishing, leaving him to stumble forward completely blind. He reaches out to steady himself, to trace the wall to stay on track, and has to choke back a scream when he feels a face instead of a wall, sharp teeth digging into the flesh of his palm, snarling and furious. It takes him several minutes to calm his racing heart, work up the courage to reach forward, again, touch the face, map curve of the stone jaw, curling horns, and twisted, scowling mouth. A gargoyle, although Lance has never heard of one inside before.

“Rich people are so goddamn weird,” he mutters to himself.

Shaken but determined, he moves forward.

As he creeps forward, more and more carvings dot the walls, each one angrier and angrier. At one point he has to pull his hand away, continuing forward on his legs alone, because he fears cutting himself on teeth that only appear to get sharper, brick that only seems to get rougher. He keeps his arms extended, moving forward slowly, cautious of what might be in front of him, too scared to stumble.

Eventually, his knuckles hit a door, the sound of the slight impact bouncing off the walls and echoing down the hallway. He flattens his hands against the grainy wood, mapping out the knots, the iron studs and hinges. He’s surprised to feel the lock pulled free. He wraps his fingers around the door handles and tugs, pulling the door open with a groan.

Moonlight spills into the hallway. It’s silvery and faint, but it’s enough that Lance can see the outline of his hands, even vaguely in front of him. He pushes the door open further, wincing at the slight creak, just wide enough for him to slip in.

The room is…huge. And destroyed.

Inside, it’s even easier for the moonlight to lift some of the oppressive shadow. It’s not bright by any means, but the window that makes up the back wall is massive and clear, and the doors are wide open, letting the full moon spill into the crowded, dusty room. Lance steps cautiously forward, hands still extended, looking around with wide eyes.

Broken furniture litters the floor, leaving splinters and shards of metal everywhere, casting long shadows on the wall. Lance is careful to step around it, but in his attempt to steer clear he very nearly walks into one of the many torn drapes and tapestries hanging from the walls and ceiling. He ducks at the last second, avoiding a facefull of it, but he still nudges it with his shoulder, causing a cloud of dust to fall to the floor, powdering his face and hair.

“Aw, that’s fucking disgusting,” he says, swiping it off his face and resisting the urge to throw up. He shakes out his hair, hyperconscious of how little it actually does, hoping that there is some kind of well he can find on the grounds in the morning to bathe. Or, God, maybe even a real bath! With hot water! It’s a castle, after all. There should be.

He looks again at the state of the room, with the shattered glass all over the wall and holes punched into the plaster walls. Paint is peeled or scratched off in many areas, especially where decorative fabric has been torn, or where coat racks or lampposts have fallen, scratching the walls on their way down. On second thought, hot water baths seem too nice for this shithole.

A glint catches his eye, and he lifts his head just to find himself face to face with his own fragmented reflection, startled expression mirrored back to him, brown eyes wide and eyebrows creased. Half the glass is missing, and the rest of it is spiderwebbed, in shards. The ornate carvings of the mirror’s frame have been half-crushed, like the whole giant, floor-length thing was picked up and smashed on the floor.

Sufficiently spooked, with his abuela’s warnings of bad luck ringing in his ears, he starts to turn away, unsure if he can be cursed if he didn’t break the damn thing but unwilling to take his chances. He's in a rough enough situation. He can’t really afford to make it worse. But as he moves forward, he catches sight of another face reflected out of the corner of his eye, and whips around to face it, hand curled protectively over his heart.

“Oh,” he breathes, air knocked out of him, transfixed on the portrait across from him.

It’s painting, or at least, it was. Like everything else in the room it’s been destroyed, half the man’s face shredded cleanly away. Left only is the shining thickness of his dark hair, the length of his pale neck, and the perplexing, swirling indigo of his eyes. He looks hauntingly familiar, in the way a name on a tombstone brings on a shudder of vague recollection, a chill down one’s spine.

Wary and curious, Lance slowly reaches forward, pinching the corner of the ripped flap of canvas with his thumb and pointer finger, cognizant of the accumulated grime, and hesitant for a reason he doesn’t understand. Slowly he begins to flip the canvas up, running his pinkies along the rejoining seams, too dark to make out the rest of the painting quite yet but noting the strong chin, sharp jawline, regal set of the shoulders –

A red light pulses, suddenly, nearly blinding the room, and Lance’s eyes squeeze shut on reflex, hands dropping to his sides. He turns slowly once it has faded, heart pounding, and sees to his great shock a flower, encased in glass, floating atop a small table, glowing as brightly as a ruby.

As if in a trance, he walks towards it, tripping over a table but quickly righting himself, eyes glued to the flower; noting the way it seems to rotate, almost too slowly to track, and sparkle like freshly fallen snow in early sunlight. He stops when he gets close, admiring it in almost a single-minded focus; the deep, dark green of the stem, the sharp thorns in great number along it, and the softly glowing pinkish-red of the three triangular petals. Lance has seen nothing like it before, not in his sister’s garden, not sold in the town square, not even wild. The flower is enchanting, and Lance is reaching out before he can stop himself, pressing careful hands to the glass and lifting it quickly, setting it on the floor and standing again as fast as he can manage, unwilling to take his eyes off the flower for even a second.

He’s nervous, now, as the flower lays without barrier, brighter and softer alike in the cool air and silver moonlight. His reach to touch it is slow, almost as if he must caress the air around it first, single finger poised to rest gently on the widest petal.

A shadow suddenly dwarfs him. He rips back his hand at light speed, but it’s too late, and Prince Keith snarls at him, teeth bared and mouth twisted and far more horrifying than any gargoyle.

He says nothing for a moment. Condensation huffs out of him in a cloud in the cold night, enveloping his head like a halo of smoke. In the next second he’s leaping forward and Lance doesn’t have time to move, doesn’t even have time to pray, can only let out a strangle shout and sharp inhale.

But Keith does not claw him to death, or sink his teeth into Lance’s heart. He only slams the glass case back over the flower, wrapping himself around it almost protectively, mouth still twisted and eyes still angry and cold.

“Why did you come here,” he hisses, stalking towards him, matching every step Lance takes backward. His claws scratch on the floor with every step.

Lance says nothing.

“What about this place seemed inviting to you?” Keith’s voice is low, carefully controlled. With every word Lance’s heart lurches, and with every step his lungs get tighter and tighter. “What about the darkness and closed door made you feel you had the right to enter?”

There’s no overt animosity to his tone, no animation. His voice is flat; deadly. This is not some kind of banter; there is no upper hand for Lance to gain. This conversation doesn’t need him at all.

This is a cornering. A final toying with a trapped animal.

“It’s only a flower,” Lance manages, and the words are barely out of his mouth before Keith roars, a hundred times louder than before, shaking the very ground with the force of it. There is nothing human or humane about it.

“Do you realise what you could have done?!” he shouts, so mounstrous it reverberates in Lance’s bones. He slashes wildly, splitting an already broken chair in two, flinging the halves at the wall.

Lance presses himself against the wall, as far away from him as he can manage, breath coming in short pants. “I didn’t mean –”

“Get out!” Keith booms, and Lance doesn’t waste a second.

He turns around, and he flees.

— — —

next chapter

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freckled-moss · 3 months

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Voltron if it was for the girls 💋 Also I needed to go back to my roots of extreme anime drawings they’re so fun

3 Commission Slots Open!

#lance mcclain #klance #keith kogane #keith x lance #voltron #sailor moon #magical girl #voltron au #klance au #fem klance

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rydersxsource · 1 year

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Ryan Destiny and Keith Powers at the Revolve Festival. 🤎

#ryan destiny #rd #rdupdates #keith powers #coachella #coachella 2023 #black girl beauty #black couples #blackgirlsrock #black girl magic

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mtg-cards-hourly · 26 days

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Eternal Witness

She remembers all those who would otherwise be forgotten.

Artist: Keith Garletts TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

#mtg #magic the gathering #tcg #$1.04 #keith garletts #eternal witness #double masters 2022 #creature #human #shaman

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dapperenby13 · 4 months

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New sketches!!

I’ve had art block so this took a bit longer than usual, but I’m pretty pleased of all of them.

Also the flowers dazai is holding are tulips.

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fanvoidkeith · 2 months

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i started playing a new pokemon fangame just to try it and. it's certainly a journey

— — —

PRO: i got a shiny because the game has boosted shiny odds, and they changed the shiny colors to be cooler. fun shiny moth :)

CON: this BITCH changed my gender on me and he won't change it back unless i give him some stupid crystal or whatever. i didn't even WANT him to change my gender! i was tricked!! he's got pokémon in cages in his creepy dark basement and he's shady as fuck!!! c'mon man, this is what i fuckin' get for giving you a chance????

PRO: cool story so far. people actually swear sometimes and it's pretty funny

CON: my mom's probably dead or a bad guy/worked with the bad guys at some point

PRO: you get to choose your pronouns at the beginning

CON: uhhhhhh everything is on fire, as i suspected. at least at the beginning disaster it is

#void keith talks #pokemon #pokemon fangame #pokemon fan game #pokemon rejuvenation #tbh mr magic man doesn't actually change your gender #but he changed my hair to be long and i'm mad about it #because I TOOK A PERSONALITY QUIZ TO GET THAT CHARACTER. GIVE THEIR ORIGINAL LOOK BACK DAMMIT #I'M A SHORT HAIRED KING/THANE YOU BASTARD #FUCK OFF WITH YOUR CREEPY ASS sign my contract boi BULLSHIT YOU CANT PRESSURE ME INTO SAYING YES OR JUST IGNORE ME WHEN I SAY NO THANK YOU!

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discordiansamba · 4 months

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thinking about the MFE paladins AU and Keith just immediately picking up on the blue lion's vibes after he gets smuggled to his shack in the desert. They leave him alone for like, five minutes and the next thing they know, he's wandering off. They end up following the weird vibes that Keith is sensing bc hey- maybe it has something to do with why he's purple now.

and that's how they end up finding the blue lion and getting shot into space. Rizavi is having the time of her life, and makes the unilateral decision to go through the wormhole, because why the heck not? It's not like they'll wind up stuck on the other end of the universe or anything.

(that is exactly what happens. she's only a little sorry.)

#mfe paladins au #listen. in her defense. they all have cool magical flying lion ships now #keith: you have to admit. that is a pretty good argument #james: it very much is not

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solacedeer · 3 months

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wicked keith magical girl transformation where its still him but he gets a crowbar

#ikepri keith #yea i am watching a magical girl show why do you ask

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duellance · 2 years

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I have no idea what au this would be I just wanted to draw magical lance ✨

(Click for better quality)

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klanceficatalogue · 8 months

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can i rec that one fic where Keith is a werewolf and Lance is a witch which are enemies but they fall in love without knowing what the other is? it's one of my all time favorites

i think this the one you mean - k

Taste of a Poison Paradise by heavenlyfires (1/1 | 4,480 | Teen and Up)

Lance is— sweet and kind and funny and brilliant and— and not this cold eyed, sharp tongued, glowing-skinned stranger in front of him. Keith continues to stand there, uprooted, flailing for any strand of reason that can reconcile the beautiful person he knows with the very thing he hates. It doesn’t help that Lance seems to have no trouble, fixing him with a disdainful sneer and arched brow. Stars and moon, how many times has Keith imagined kissing the arch of that brow? How many times has he imagined kissing the slender column of that neck? Biting and claiming, marking the perfect skin as his, forever. Never knowing the magic that simmered just under the surface. Never knowing that wonderful, perfect Lance was his worst enemy. _ Werewolves and witches have been mortal enemies for ages. And Keith has hated witches as much as — no, more than — any of his fellow werewolves. Witches are dangerous, dirty, evil. So how can it be that the boy he's in love with is one of them?

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