Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lance,

Asshole,

Since I am the more mature of the two of us, I’m writing all of this down instead of telling you. I was going to be more respectful with the delivery, but then I realized you’re never going to see this and I can write whatever I want. This includes calling you a variety of things, including asshole, whiny bitch, motherfucker,, whatever. I can’t think of more right now. I’m sure your stupid face will do something stupid again to fuel inspiration for more names. Yeah, this ‘letter’ is addressed to you, but you’re not going to read it. No one’s ever going to read it. Technicalities, whatever. None of it matters.

I wonder if you ever hear yourself speak. The things you say, do they ever occur to you? In your brain? Or do you not have a brain? The latter is pretty likely. It has to be. You say so much…bullshit. Complete bullshit. We are in space, Lance. We are at war! Does none of that mean anything to you? You go up to aliens, allies or enemies, and just—

All you do is flirt. You open your fucking mouth and there’s a line. Are they preprogrammed? I can imagine that some little critter is up there spamming cheesy pick up lines like there’s no tomorrow. It’s horrendous, whether it’s the dialogue itself that’s so poor that we can’t help but cringe or the situation it puts us into.

First there was Allura. Which okay, she’s nice and pretty…sure I guess if I liked girls it’d make sense. But, seriously? We just shot two million light years through space in a blue fucking lion in the span of ten seconds. WE WERE IN ARIZONA, AND THEN WE WEREN’T, AND I CAN’T EVEN COMPREHEND IT BECAUSE ALL I FUCKING HEAR IS YOU HITTING ON THE FIRST PERSON YOU SEE. OH MY GOD. HAVE YOU NEVER MET A PERSON BEFORE?

Sorry, I don’t know what got hold of me. Actually, I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry at all because I’m maturely documenting this instead of saying it to your face. I’ll get over my irritation in my own time and I’m sure you’ll do…whatever you do about your resentment towards me. None of this will matter later. I’ll probably never see you again after a few months. Maybe a few years. Sure, we’re the defenders of the universe, but war is war. Things will change and people will die and soon there will be new defenders. I’ll probably die. It’s not a nihilistic thought. The probability of surviving being thrust into a space war with no way of getting back home is pretty low. And the rest of you all won’t die because that’s just how it is. Yeah.

Well Lance, maybe you will die considering you’ve literally flirted with enemies before. Maybe you’ll flirt with Zarkon and obviously he’d kill you. Or something. How terrible.

And I can’t call you out on this because you’d turn it around and put it on me, somehow. Every single thing I say to you is something you turn into a fight. And for what? I could just exist and that would be so terrible to you. I know you hate me. I know it. But oh my god, does nothing exist in your thick skull aside from your stupid obsession with making a scene? Can’t you hate me quietly? There’s things bigger than us. You’ve seen it. Planets with whole species living their lives as slaves and getting killed off and all you care about is flying faster and getting girls. It makes me hate you a little bit too. How can you think like that when this is the universe around us?

But I guess you are all talk, at the end of the day. You act like you don’t care about these meaningful things, but you do. You protected Coran from that blast and went through so much trouble with us to protect the Balmerans. That can’t be made up or neglected. You’re such a contradictory person, Lance. You make no sense.

Not that I care about making sense of you. The only thing I want is for you to leave me alone. One day we will never see each other again. It’ll probably be the best for the both of us.

,Keith

To the idiot who can’t shut his fucking mouth,

I can’t believe Shiro sent me to my room to ‘cool off’. The fuck did I do!? It was all your fault anyways. You’re the one who goes around saying shit. All I did was call you out. Sure, maybe we were at some diplomatic fucking event that’s being livestreamed to an entire planet, but how else was I supposed to stop you? You kept talking and talking and ignoring Allura’s glare—you probably thought she was making eyes at you or something. I don’t understand why the rest of the team doesn’t seem to realize that you can’t take a fucking hint. There’s no way to discreetly get through to your head.

It’s not like I said anything mean either. Not toooo mean, anyways. All I said was, “Lance, shut up.” Which, for the record, involved NO CURSING and NO MALICE. It’s three words! And the planet we’re at has a completely different culture than us so how are they supposed to know that the term ‘shut up’ is derogatory? We could’ve played it off. We could’ve been cool. But then Lance, you had to go ahead and get offended just cause I was trying to tug the stick out of your ass. You messed everything up. And then you started shouting. And okay, how are we supposed to play that off? I can’t believe we had to get separated and sent to our ‘rooms’ because of you.

If I die tomorrow I hope you remember this. I hope you think about your terrible, cruel words towards me. About how you get mad at me for even existing. You probably won’t even care about my death, but there’s a small part of me that hopes you regret your words forever. Sometimes I think about dying out of spite just to get some reaction from you. Something that isn’t constant hatred. Maybe then you’ll I think that’s the only way to give you a reality check.

I’m not actually interested in dying. I don’t know why I feel the need to confirm this. No one else is going to read it and I already know my opinions on death. I guess I’m just playing it safe incase Shiro comes across it or something. I’d rather burn all my belongings down before letting anyone touch this journal. Letter. Whatever it is.

I’ll probably get sat down and lectured about mental health. WELL NEWS FLASH SHIRO, this IS for my mental health. Lance fucking McClain is driving me insane; how else am I supposed to cope with him?? If I write about death a lot, it’s because HE makes me want to die. If someone wants to help me out, maybe they should do something about HIM. Maybe they should remove HIM from the equation.

Okay. That was kind of mean.

Not that it matters. It’s my journal/letter. Why should I worry about being mean? Why should I feel bad? If I think something to myself, don’t I have the right to write it down?

…

I guess I feel bad for thinking it.

I don’t want anyone to get removed. I don’t want anything bad to happen to anyone. This includes you, Lance. I know you wouldn’t care if I left or died, but I think it’d make some sort of difference to me. Like, I’d be sad if anyone dies. Yeah, that’s the way things go, but I’m not going to go out of my way to wish it upon someone. So yeah. I don’t want you to die. Once again, in the case that someone is reading this:

I DO NOT WANT LANCE MCCLAIN TO DIE. I HOLD NO MURDEROUS INTENTIONS TOWARDS HIM.

I just wish you were different.

I don’t mind talkative people. I don’t mind stupid jokes. Those are normal things. But if I don’t talk and I don’t joke, why is that an issue for him? And when I do talk, that’s also an issue for him!? You’ve always got some issue with me. Something to say. ‘Keith was on the training deck all day.’ Okay, can I not be? ‘Keith is so antisocial and awkward.’ Okay, well guess who I’m definitely not going to socialize with now?

We’ve only been in space for three months, but even three months of living together hasn’t changed your opinion about me. Can’t you see that I’m normal? I don’t brood, I don’t angst, I don’t ‘emo-ly stare at my blade’. I like my fucking blade! Can I not look at it? I was checking it for smudges anyways.

It’s gotten to the point that even when you’re not being antagonistic, you piss me off. You ask someone to pass food over to you? I’m pissed off. I hear your voice down the hall? My mood’s been ruined. I’m not sure why it’s that way. Maybe I’m always anticipating a fight.

You’d probably remark that that’s in character for me. In your head I’m always punching things and yelling and shouting. I guess I do shout at you a lot. But I only punch the training bots and Galran soldiers! I haven’t punched another person since Iverson! I haven’t even ever punched you!

I don’t know. I feel so abnormal when I think about you. I feel angry and fed up and maybe a little sad and I don’t know what to do with it. Even if I changed as a person, you’d somehow manage to find a problem with me. I suppose you could change as a person, but how am I supposed to make you do that. I can try avoiding you, but that’s a little hard to do when you’re stuck on a space ship with someone.

I’m getting side tracked.

I started writing this to note down today’s events.

Okay. Okay. As per usual, you were talking. Which is fine! That’s fine! You can do that! Even if that pisses me off, I won’t say anything about it. I’ll be normal about it. We were at some cool looking oval table with some dignitaries for lunch. Obviously people talk during lunch.

But then—You just—you kept talking over the stupid dignitary!

I don’t think you noticed. I guess it could be fine, accidents happen sometimes. But Lance, you ALWAYS do this. You never pay attention to anyone but yourself and anything but your words. Bad habits exist, but at one point it becomes ignorant. People are trying to say something and you keep cutting them off. Do you only like listening to yourself? You do this to everyone. Even Hunk, your best friend. He’s just nice enough not to point out when you constantly cut him off. Pidge is a little more strict with you—she just starts ignoring you when you speak over her. I don’t know how you talk with Shiro and Allura but I can’t imagine it’s any different. With me, it doesn’t even matter because all our conversations are fights.

Talking isn’t bad. But I wish you’d listen. I wish you’d exist a little bit outside of your mind.

So you keep interrupting this guy and he’s a little pissed and Allura’s definitely pissed and you haven’t noticed yet. Or I think you haven’t noticed yet. Sometimes I think you’re self-absorbed on purpose but I don’t think you’d go so far as to ruin a diplomatic lunch. Then again, I also don’t know you that well.

Other people say shit. I don’t know. I’m not paying much attention. I can’t pay attention because YOU KEEP INTERJECTING WITH YOUR STORY. AND I CAN’T EVEN UNDERSTAND YOUR STORY BECAUSE YOU’RE SAYING IT BETWEEN OTHER PEOPLE’S WORDS. I DON’T EVEN THINK IT HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE MISSION.

Let me calm down.

So I told you to shut up. And you know what you did?? You did NOT shut up.

Instead, you started yelling at me! You called me an anti-social whatever and then you criticized my outfit (we’re all wearing clothes given to us by this planet??) and my expression. I swear to god, can you not take critique?? At all??

I don’t even remember what I said back. I called you a jackass, that one I know. I was holding that insult in my chest for a long time. Couldn’t help saying it. Sorry, Shiro. I called you stupid too, I think. I feel bad, but I also think it's true?? Of course you’re going to take it in some cruel twisted way where you think I find you to be dirt garbage. I just think you lack common sense. I just think you can’t read the room.

Anyways…someone’s knocking on the door now. I’m probably getting lectured now. I’ll just take it and move on. You definitely won’t.

From, Keith

Lance,

You’re in a pod again. Please wake up.

,Keith

Asshole,

It’s like you know, every single fucking time, how to get on my nerves. I wonder if you were created to read my emotions and then right when I start to grow comfortable or complacent with you, you do something rude or annoying.

Well I’m not annoyed this time. I’m sad.

Sad is an exaggeration, okay? I’m not sad. I’m not . I’m bummed out sure, but something small like this wouldn’t make me sad.

I don’t care much about being excluded. I don’t even play board games, so it doesn’t make a difference.

I had been going to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I was thirsty after training. I wasn’t stalking you guys or whatever. I didn’t even know you guys were having a game night at the dining table. Sorry for ‘butting into your plans’.

You guys were all playing some game. I don’t know what it was. It looked fun okay. It looked like a lot of work. It was you, Pidge, and Hunk. The three of you were huddled around rolling dice and placing cards and laughing. I was just getting my water.

Now, let me make one thing clear. I am not, NOT jealous of not being invited to any game night. I’d probably decline anyways. I’m not good at games. I also don’t think these things are really scheduled in advance. You three always hang out together; you must’ve been bored and found this game.

That being said, you didn’t have to say what you said, Lance.

I was peacefully getting my water when Pidge asked me if I wanted to join. You insisted that it was a three player game. Whatever. I don’t fucking care. Hunk says he’ll read the instructions to see if it can extend to four players. Then you say that it’s too much work to set things up again and to restart the game. You make a whole deal about it.

I get my water and I leave. I can take a fucking hint, okay Lance? I’m not stupid.

I don’t know what you wanted me to say. Maybe you wanted me to beg and grovel. Maybe you wanted me to say, no Lance, I really, really want to play games with you guys, even though you don’t want me, please accept me Lance, please want me there.

Well guess what? Guess the fuck what?

I did want to play some games. I did have some curiosity as to what you were playing. I was bored too, you know. You think I train all the time because I’m some pro-gym bro?

There’s not much for me to do in the castle. I haven’t even explored half of it and I’m too much of a coward to check out the rest of it because I don’t want Allura to think I’m snooping around her father’s Castle. She’s still not speaking to me after the whole Blade of Marmora thing. There’s not much I can do for fun when all I have is a kitchen, a training deck, an observatory, and my bedroom. You monopolize Pidge and Hunk. They’re your friends before they’re mine, and you make that so abundantly clear. You’re always pairing off with them. I don’t care about that—do what you want with who you want. But aren’t they—can’t I spend time with them too? Everytime I want to hang out with them, you’re there, and you being there means fighting. Then there’s Coran, but I can’t ever keep up with him and I don’t even know what he thinks of me. He still hasn’t brought up the Galra thing.

So all I do for fun is train and talk to Shiro. Occasionally I spar. I’d like to read if I knew there was a library around, but I’m not touching a corner of the Castle that hasn’t been previously introduced to me.

So yeah. Maybe I want to play some games.

Maybe I want to have friends too.

And you know what the real kicker is? You know what? I’m walking away from the kitchen and minding my own business when I hear you say, ‘the nerve of that guy. Who does he think he is?’

Lance, who do you think I think I am?

Can I not go to the kitchen too? Are the places you’re at also off limits in the castle? Shall I monitor your whereabouts throughout the day and stealthily evade you?

I’m so tired of you. We’ve been in space for six months and you’re still so mean. Sometimes I try to will myself to never talk to you ever again, just out of spite, so that you see the effects of your words. But of course there’s battles and rescues, so I’d have to talk to you then. There’s just no avoiding you. You’re everywhere.

,Keith

I had to add to this entry. Pidge knocked on my door before dinner. She wanted to apologize for the fact that I didn’t get to play games with them. I told her I didn’t care. People are out there dying, so who cares about some stupid games? I don’t know if she bought my words, but she accepted them and moved on.

Then she said something crazy. Really crazy.

She said that you felt bad for what you said to me.

You? Lance McClain? Feeling bad towards me?

I know you have a general sense of empathy but I didn’t think it could extend to me. It was so unbelievable that I just stared at Pidge in silence.

She told me ‘yeah he got all frowny and said shit I shouldn’t have said that fuck he’s going to hate me even more now isn’t he? ’ Pidge said that like it was the most common knowledge ever, and then she left like she didn’t just drop a bomb on me.

There was just so much to process from that one short conversation. It’s hard to even comprehend. There’s two key takeaways: you’re capable of regretting the things you tell me and you think I hate you for some reason. Both of which sound ridiculously absurd.

I know you can regret. I know you can feel. But the things you say to me, so say them with such vitriol and passion that I just—how can they not be true? You look at me so intensely that it’s impossible to fabricate such an expression. Then again, I never did understand you as a person, did I?

Secondly, me hating you? What the fuck? When have I ever told you I hate you? Lance, I have saved your ass in battle so many times. I have saved you when your lion was stolen and you got tied to a tree. I ignore your jabs (for the most part). I try my best to avoid you and therefore avoid fights. I guess I speak a little standoff-ish and bluntly, but if you took one second to try and connect with me, you’d understand that there’s no antagonism to my words. I can’t understand how you think I hate you. Dislike, sure. Annoyance, also yes. Definitely yes. But we’ve been in space for so long to the point that I’m used to you and that I, dare I say, like having you around.

Okay that’s pushing it. You did kick me out of game night before I could join at all, after all. I tolerate having you around.

It’s so strange to get this glimpse into your thoughts. Pidge said these things about you so offhandedly like you’re normally like this? It’s intriguing. It’s like meeting a whole new person from a whole new perspective. Did that make sense? I don’t know. ANYWAYS, I—

Yeah. I don’t know where I was going with this at all. I didn’t need to write this down. But after talking with Pidge, my letter felt incomplete. It felt like learning a new side of you is an important thing to jot down.

For some reason, the things you said lifted my mood a bit. JUST A LITTLE BIT. Which is ridiculous because you didn’t even apologize to me. I don’t even know if you actually felt sorry. I heard from a third party that you felt a little bit bad and then suddenly I’m so…I’m so—I don’t know! I don’t know what I am! You’re messing me up, Lance. I’m pissed off thinking about this again. Gonna log off. Bye.

,Keith

Lance,

Thank you. Thank you for standing up for me. I don’t know why you did it and I’m too afraid to ask. You didn’t have to say all that on my behalf. Even if it’s bad to be racist against Galrans or me, half the things that general said about me were true. It’s true that I’m prone to anger. That I’m disconnected from the rest of the group. Besides, he wasn’t trying to be racist, he was trying to give advice. I get it, a little bit. It’s hard to be saved by the same face that kills your troops. He wasn’t trying to be mean to me, he was only giving his personal observations based on his own perspectives.

That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.

I can’t brush off every alien that gives me a dirty look as ‘just racist’. Yes, they’re racist, but it’s not cruel prejudice that fuels their hearts, is it? It’s rage and sorrow and years of slavery and living as a shell of a being. How can anyone adhere to a strict, righteous moral code when all they’ve been is wronged all their life? Maybe they’re unjust in their views and logics. But I’ll take any hurtful words anyday if it means they’re able to freely speak those views and logics without repercussions. Even if someone calls me the scum under their feet, that in itself is a success. My job ends when planets are liberated. You guys can handle the diplomacy.

It meant nothing to me when that General said those words. I’ve endured a long life of name calling enough to be tough to those kinds of things. What’s one more name? What’s one more slur?

You didn’t take it though.

You demanded an immediate apology. You said an insult against any member of Voltron is an insult against the whole team. You recounted every single move I made during today’s battle. You spoke of how I interacted with the civilians.

Maybe I would’ve cut you off, but I didn’t even know what to say. I was too hung up on the fact that you were watching me. Even throughout battle, which—isn’t that dangerous? Pay attention to your own life Lance. What would we do if some fleet or blast took you out? Then who would bother me? It would be too silent on the ship.

We were lucky we weren’t on some anti-Galra supremacist planet. The general took your apology, the rest of the team agreed, and we moved on. Well, you all moved on. Evidently I didn’t, considering I’m here writing.

It really doesn’t matter that I’m Galra. Part-Galra. The world kept spinning. We’re not on Earth, but I can take the liberty to assume that it’s still spinning. My heritage hardly affected anything. We still have to fight. We still have to plan and make alliances and everything. It makes sense. The war isn’t about me. Even though I’m a part of Voltron, I am such an infinitesimal and small thing. I exist only momentarily.

I’m a little lucky to be so insignificant. I’d rather not be spotlighted the way Allura is. Allura being Altean, that’s—that really is something. The whole universe is watching her. I couldn’t imagine or wish to be in her position.

Anyone can watch the Red Lion. Anyone can watch Voltron. But they’re not watching ME, Keith Kogane, half-human, half Galran, half-korean, half—do Galrans have distinct ethnicities? There’s so much about myself that I don’t know. I’m lucky that it hardly matters. I think I’d get overwhelmed if I ever sat down to research who I truly am.

My heritage doesn’t matter much, not even to me, but I’d have thought that it’d mean even less to you. I would put you as the most unlikely candidate to stand up for me against racism. Not saying that you’re racist, or cool with racism. I thought you’d elect to ignore remarks made about me, just like you ignore most transgressions relevant to me.

I’d have thought Shiro might stand up for me. Maybe Hunk, if the diplomat saying things wasn’t too cold hearted or cruel. Maybe, maybe Coran. Pidge would definitely not be paying attention to any conversation that’s not science related so she’d completely miss commentary about Galrans and Allura…

We’re cool now. She and I are normal again. I don’t know if she’d stand up for me.

But you—well, I’d have thought you’d cast aside your own morals to have a good laugh about me. Even if it's a racist laugh, or whatever. It sounds so low, but I expected you to agree with the general. In my head, I can imagine you saying something like, yeah Keith is such an angry guy! It makes soooo much sense why he is the way he is now, you feel me? Something like that.

Not cause you’re racist. Cause you hate me.

WHICH, now I’m realizing, might not be true!?! Would you stand up for someone you hated? Against racism, probably. But for me? You, Lance McClain, who can’t keep his mouth shut when I enter a room and try to beat me at everything I do, you’d stand up for me?

I don’t even understand why. You’ve never brought up my heritage before. Ever. Not even one comment was ever made, good or bad. But now it’s something you care about?

You didn’t say anything after you told the general off. You didn’t even look at me. I tried to gauge something, anything from your expression, but I couldn’t. You looked complacent for the rest of the meeting. Like you were happy or…pleased. It didn’t seem like a real expression. I’ve seen you show some real expressions. Real happiness. Real anger. Real sadness. Not towards me, aside from the anger part, but I live with you Lance. I’ve seen at least a part of you.

Then again, we were at a boring meeting. Why would you be super expressive at a meeting?

Okay, this is going on too long.

What I’m trying to say is: Thank you, Lance. Thank you for caring. It’s so humiliating to write it down, but I’d rather have it on paper and never look at it again than have the thoughts boil in my head forever and ever.

Thank you for caring about something to do with me, even if it’s something I’m used to not caring about. I guess I do need someone to care about the parts of myself I discard so haphazardly.

I feel so weird that you care. I’m happy, but I’m not used to being happy. It’s like eating food you always found so bitter only to randomly enjoy it. It’s a feeling that I don’t associate with you. I don’t mind associating this feeling with you. Obviously. I like being happy. Who doesn’t?

I’m thinking about thanking you in person. This is the coward’s route, isn’t it? Writing this thank you letter to you, even though you’ll never read it. I’m not thanking anyone. I’m just facing a corner and having my thoughts and words bounce back at me.

I don’t know how to thank you. It’s two words, two simple words, but I don’t know how to speak to you. I’m realizing that we’ve hardly had any conversations that weren’t mission related in the whole seven months that I’ve lived with you. Arguments don’t count. I mean actual conversations. The way you speak with other people, I’ve—we’ve never done that.

We could start now. No time is better than the present. It’s still, embarrassingly scary. I’m worried I’ll go to talk to you, and you’ll take it as some kind of attack. I don’t want to ruin a potentially good conversation. But it’d be ruined to begin with if I never try, right?

I’ll brainstorm. I’ll write down now what I want to say. I’ll have a draft in this letter and I’ll double check it to see if there’ll be anything that offends you. Okay, okay. Here we go:

Hi Lance. How are you? Thanks for standing up for me at the

Okay. restart.

Hi Lance. Thank you for what you

Hi Lance. I was really happy. It made me

Lance. It was nice of you to stand up for me when that general made those remarks (NOTE: be more precise). I really appreciate it. If you want to, can we be f

(NOTE: don’t sound too pushy)

Do you want to get lunch together? (NOTE: we already eat as a team! At a standard time!)

Do

Lance. We make a good team.

Can

Forget about it. I’ll thank you at a different time.

,Keith

Lance,

Hi, Lance. How are you? I hope you’re doing well (even though there’s no future version of you that’ll read this). I hope you’re doing better than YOUR CURRENT SELF, WHO’S FUCKING ALL OVER THE PLACE.

Okay. Let me back up. You’re not all over the place. I am.

You’ve…made me all over the place? Is that even grammatically correct? I can’t even check my grammar out here in space. There’s no English language catalog around. I’m also writing this on paper. I don’t trust Pidge not to hack into any online logs.

You came out of a pod today. At first I was concerned for you, but then you said some terrible shit to me. I’m gutted, by the way. I sound cordial right now but I’m sure my feelings will catch up to me and I’ll

Okay that doesn’t matter. Let’s I’m okay. Okay. Calming down.

For starters, fuck you. Fuck you so much. Fuck you the most. I hate you I hate you I hate you.

No I don’t. That’s a lie. 90% a lie. 10% probably true.

We were on a Galra cruiser and you.

Shit. I can’t even write it. Give me a minute. I’ll be back, I’m getting water.

Never mind. Not writing today.

,Keith

Lance,

I’m sorry for blowing up at you earlier today. You didn’t deserve my cruel words, especially because I’m able to stand here because of you today. I should be grateful for your actions and not yell at you.

(NOTE: sounds a little robotic? Should I review with Shiro?

NOTE 2: NO!)

Lance, why did you say that to me? Earlier? Why did you say it’d be better if you died on that Galra cruiser because at least then you wouldn’t have to talk to me anymore?

I should’ve put all this in the last letter I wrote when you first got out of the pod. Then we might not have had this huge argument. I’m back to writing anyway.

I feel sick and I don’t even know why. I want to sleep. COMING BACK TO THIS LETTER. NOT RUNNING AWAY FROM WRITING.

Good morning. Evening. Okay, writing now. For real.

Let’s go in chronological order:

Two days ago we infiltrated a Galra cruiser in the Wen-Phi quadrant of the poly-cyclical system. We went in by foot, each of us entering from a separate direction.

I don’t remember much of the actual mission. I don’t want to. TL;DR: Lance got impaled. Straight through the stomach. My fault.

There. Wrote it? Happy? Fucking happy? Now it’s out of my system and I won’t get on your nerves by picking unnecessary fights.

Why did you do that, Lance? You could’ve died. You would’ve died for me. You wanted to die for me. That’s what it sounded like when we fought. I tried—I intended on asking you if you were okay. Instead, I asked you why you took the blade meant for me. I was genuinely curious, but I get how that comes off as an accusation. It was an accusation, a little bit. It’s unacceptable for you to get stabbed. You can’t die Lance. And you didn’t, but you could’ve.

You felt attacked, like you always do. I should’ve known better than to open my mouth in front of you. Then you started yelling about this and that. I couldn’t even catch half of it. Something like you think I’m fucking weak? I’m stupid? I don’t throw myself in front of swords for fun. You would’ve gotten stabbed, Keith!

To which I responded, yeah . What else was I supposed to say? It’s the blatantly obvious truth. If the blade’s coming and we’re not fast enough to dodge it, it’s going to hit someone. That’s common sense.

This aggravated you even more. I don’t know why. I don’t know what you wanted me to say. There was nothing else to say.

You started cursing in Spanish. I think. I couldn’t understand any of it. Then you started walking away, but at the last moment you turned around and grabbed me by the collar. You started saying shit like fuck you! Fuck you! I’d die for you and you don’t even care! Lance, how is that true? You sounded so devastated, like I killed your family or something. I was so shocked by the switch around that I couldn’t even find anything to say. Then you said: I should’ve died for you . Then at least I’d matter.

I can’t take that. Lance, there’s no way you can throw those words in my face and expect me to accept that. There’s never a moment in my life where I can hear that and be okay.

I pushed you, which I yeah. I shouldn’t have. I told you to shut the fuck up. I told you to never say that ever again. I told you to never step a foot near me on a mission ever again. I told you to let me die. 

Yeah, I shouldn’t have done that.

Other things were said, but like I said, it’s all a blur. I got lectured by Shiro, but it’s nothing I don’t already know. You probably got a small lecture too, even though you don’t deserve it.

I’m sorry, Lance. I always mess it up, don’t I?

The truth is, I don’t want either of us to die. I don’t want either of us to get hurt. But when it comes down to it, I'd rather it be me than you. Lance, you—you’re supposed to live. That’s how it’s always supposed to be. You carry life with you everywhere. You’re vibrant and joyful. I’m not. It sounds morbid, but there’d be less of a loss if it was me in that pod.

It’s hard to even write that, so forget about saying that to you. But you were so okay with the outcome of the battle; Lance, I can’t agree with you on that. I can’t even pretend to, even if you’re injured and I should let you take it easy.

I don’t know what to do with the care you have for my life on the battlefield and the complete disregard you have for it in our day to day lives. I don’t get it. Doesn’t it benefit you if I’m not around? Shouldn’t we be on the same page about YOU needing to live?

It sounds really weird, but I think I wanted to hug you when you were holding me by my shirt and swearing up and down at me. You were so mad but you were so close. I had to fight the instinct to wrap my arms around you.

Yeah that’s really weird. Moving on.

I’m really sorry, Lance. I’ll apologize to you, for sure. I’m not going to put it off like I’ve put off all my other half-hearted attempts at a kind conversation with you. This time, I won’t even draft it. I’ll just go for it. See you around.

With care and regret, Keith

Lance,

Holy fuck. I opened the log and was instantly faced with the last entry. Which was uh, that. You know, that. Ugh. Glad we got that out of the way. I don’t even like thinking about it.

Enough about that. I thought I’d write about today.

Nothing happened today. Well, nothing life changing. Not that all the other entries were life changing. I guess the key difference is that you didn’t do anything to piss me off or—wait let me scroll through them. There was also the entry where I thanked you for the part-Galra thing. Thinking about that embarasses me. I should delete it all together.

I guess I wanted to write because today was a nice day. I could’ve just made this a regular journal entry, but I’m used to addressing my entries to you. So I guess you, imaginary Lance, can hear about my day.

I woke up at a normal time. A little bit before everyone else. I got to do some morning stretches—I usually skip those and go straight to training, which I KNOW SHIRO. I KNOW IT’S NOT GOOD FOR ME. Stretching was nice. It kind of…made me happy? What a weird thing to be happy about. I suppose it’s nice to not be in a rush, though.

At breakfast, you could tell I was in a good mood. Which, by the way, that’s so weird Lance. Why are you studying my expressions and micro-actions to gauge my mood? You didn’t mention it, though. I looked up and you were giving me this weird smirk. I could just tell that it was about my lack of tire. Don’t ask how I knew! I just know!

We didn’t fight. No one did. Breakfast was quiet. This is good because I like quiet. I like being with people without having to strain myself much or be too attentive, especially since team breakfasts usually turn into pre-meeting strategic discussions.

Today was a travel day, which means we don’t have any urgent tasks and do whatever we want as the castle hurtles through space. I read for most of the day. Do you want to know what the book was about? It was some non-fiction catalog of reptile-like creatures from Altea. I kind of want to ask Allura about it, but that might be a bit strange of me, right? Besides, what if these creatures are important to her home, or make her sad because they’re extinct after so many years? Coran would be the better choice. I think I’d end up learning more than I want if I talk to him, but I am actually interested in this topic. We shall see.

I usually read in my room, but today I decided to read in the common room. You guys were all there. Shiro and Pidge were napping on opposite sides of a couch. Allura was browsing through a data pad. And you and Hunk were talking about something from Earth. Rap music I think. I didn’t really pay much attention. I don’t listen to much rap music. I only listened to the radio back on Earth since the shack didn’t have a good wifi signal. Not too much music going on at the Garrison and the homes.

I thought the chatter would distract me and that I’d travel back to my room after mere minutes. But I didn’t. I actually learned a lot about Altean reptiles. Did you know that there’s soft-scaled and hard-scaled lizards depending on how close to water they live? Well, they’re not called lizards, but you wouldn’t get the name for it and the closest descriptor is lizard .

I might as well call it the damn thing. You’re not going to read this.

I liked reading in the room with everyone. I liked that you didn’t dislike me reading in the room with everyone. I remember a few months ago when you got mad that I was in the room when you were playing board games, but you also weren’t mad according to Pidge? I’m glad we’re past that. I think we are. Our whole big argument was last week, but that’s different . That’s real stuff. And we actually talked about that.

I said sorry and I thought you’d tell me to go kill myself but instead you sighed and looked really tired. You apologized too. I didn’t get it then but I think I get it now. You don’t want to fight either, do you Lance? You don’t pick these fights with me for fun or something. Something about me has been genuinely bothering you.

Bothered you. We haven’t fought since that big one. Which, not that long ago, but a record is a record. So maybe you’re cool with me now. Hopefully.

The whole day went by like that. Reading. A little bit of training when my joints got stiff. And now here I am, writing to you before sleeping. How silly of me to tell you about my day. I think I’d be caught dead before telling you about my day in real life. Then I’d, I don’t know. Thinking about doing that makes me sound like—like I’m your husband or something! What the fuck. But married people do that. Tell their partners about their nice days?

So do kids, man. Stop coming to weird and uncomfortable images that have no basis. Enough of that.

I hope we get more days like this. Where we all get to do…whatever together. It’s nice. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Shiro relaxed enough to take a nap in front of everyone. So more than being able to take time to read, I’m glad he got to do that. I’ve been worried about him since we’ve come to space. There’s been a slight barrier between the two of us after we found him in the desert. Maybe it’s not noticeable to you, but I can see clear as day, the way he’s holding himself back and making himself smaller. He’s changed. It’s not his fault but he’s changed.

He’s still Shiro, but sometimes I think he tries to be less. It truly enrages me that the Galra did all that to him. They

Okayyy. Not writing about that today. This is my letter to you anyways, not some kind of rage log or note to Shiro. Although, I’ve definitely vented in here a few times. Sorry, Lance. Hope you don’t mind.

Going to sleep now. Tomorrow I’ll wake up early and hopefully the day will go similarly to today.

See ya, Keith

Shiro,

Where are you? Where did you go?

Chapter Text

E-LOG #001

DAYS MISSING: 52

BLACK LION STATUS: Still unresponsive

CASTLESHIP COORDINATES: Plexus Grid 10-BETA-2573/99JAX3

TODAY’S DIRECTIVE:

• Check Black Lion (done)
• Check Galran Radio feed for keywords Champion/Black (done)
• Review mission logs
• Review training agendas
• Investigate lead in Fvorian-Quadrant#XXS42 (done)

It has been fifty two days since Shiro disappeared from the Black Lion during battle. He has yet to hail the castle or send out a rescue signal. I conclude that he’s not in a state to receive or attempt communication.

The chances that he’s being held hostage somewhere is far more likely than a deliberate escape. I’ve already checked the planets closest to the battlegrounds and the planets in the surrounding systems. There is no sign of humanoid life.

He must be on some high-speed ship that has the capability to mask itself from our radars. Or perhaps the druids have managed to cloak him altogether. But how would they do that? What do they gain from that? It’s possible that they removed enough of his quintessence that he’s undetectable to us. Or perhaps they removed more of him, physically. They could’ve severed another arm. But what would they gain from this? And wouldn’t they use it to lure us elsewhere? What is the advantage of hiding Shiro from us? If Zarkon wants the black lion so badly wouldn’t they be treating Shiro like some trading piece? They must be doing something to him. They have to have some agenda for him? But what? What more could they want from Shiro? Perhaps it's a continuation of their project from his last kidnapping. Fuck . I should’ve gotten Pidge to take a better look at his arm. I’ll get her to do so when he’s back again. But why did they make his arm like that to begin with? What did they need from him? Are they going to replace more of him? But they his arm was because of his condition. Are they going to do something to his brain? We’ve seen and faced against Galran generals who’ve gotten experimented on. Are they going to turn him into a weapon like that? But what’s the purpose of that? What is the purpose of turning a human into a weapon? Maybe it’s a revenge thing. Maybe Zarkon has some evil sick prejudiced need to torture him because he “stole” his lion. But HOW could Zarkon have stolen him from the battle? HOW could he have done that? He doesn’t we all saw them fighting. Is Zarkon still connected to Black? Did he overtake her systems? We were all watching him. Wouldn’t the other lions have noticed? We should’ve insisted Allura tell us more about the lions and their origins when we first got them. Fuck. We were all so blind. SO blind and naive. Why did we think there’d be anything logical about this space war? There’s fucking magic—science whatever, and it’s so much more advanced that we could ever imagine! Why did we think this would work out the same way flying planes on Earth would just because the Lions fucking bonded with us? We don’t even understand the lions? Who they are, what they are, what purpose they intend to serve? The good of the universe—WHAT IS THE GOOD OF THE UNIVERSE? WHAT DO THEY WANT? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO? WHY DID HE TAKE SHIRO?

LOG COMPLETE

E-LOG #002

DAYS MISSING: 62

BLACK LION STATUS: Still unresponsive

CASTLESHIP COORDINATES:66GA-TEN/1212IVVI

What are we going to do about voltron?

E-LOG #003 - ALERT: PLEASE REFRAIN FROM LOG USAGE DURING NIGHT CYCLE VARGAS TO CONSERVE ENERGY 

DAYS MISSING: 63

BLACK LION STATUS: Still unresponsive

CASTLESHIP COORDINATES:66GA-TEN/1212IVVI

Can you please come back Shiro? We need you to form Voltron? Don’t you want to form Voltron? We can’t fight without you. Please come back. Please. How can we fight? We’ve going to live in war and die in war and you’ll be gone nevertheless. Don’t you care, Shiro? If you cared you’d come back. Come back, Shiro. Fight, Shiro. You can’t leave a second time. It doesn’t work like that. Come back.

LOG COMPLETE

ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DELETE E-LOG #003? THE CONTENTS WILL NEVER BE ACCESSIBLE AGAIN. YES NO

LOG DELETED.

Lance,

Writing to you feels like talking to an old friend, which is weird because I see you every single day. It’s been ages since I’ve written you a letter, but we speak all the time. That’s a bit of a lie. Technically , we speak everyday. I don’t think you’d count curt conversations like ‘pass the food’ and ‘what time is it’ to be proper talks.

Maybe it’s because we haven’t fought in ages either.

I haven’t found a reason to fight with you for a long time. Looking back on it, wasn’t it such a waste of time? What did we even fight about half the time? It’s so meaningless that I can’t even remember. Half the things we did during the first half of our time in space were a colossal waste of time. All those stupid diplomatic meetings. We’re light years away from those planets and they haven’t found a need to contact us yet. Even if they did, nothing can be done, because we can’t form Voltron.

Our training exercises were useless too. Running around mazes and connecting with each other’s minds. I guess it helped form Voltron, but we don’t have Voltron now. Then there was all the time we spent lazing around. Those games that you played. The books I read. Can you believe it? Reading? How stupid was I to think we had time for that?

Now that Voltron is out of commission we have all the time on our hands and we don’t do anything. You and Hunk dally around the ship pathetically. Pidge works on projects, but no one even knows what projects because she doesn’t tell us about them. Allura does research, but not about shit she bothers to tell us about. It’s out of our scope of understanding. I’m sure not telling us will definitely not backfire and hurt the team in someway, just like not telling us that ZARKON WAS THE FUCKING BLACK PALADIN had zero consequences at all. Coran’s been maintaining the castle and keeping us on route, but on route to where? We can stop at planets in need all we want, but what are we going to do there? Without Voltron, our Lions are just powerful ships. Newsflash, the Galra have plenty of those.

We’re just useless. Aimless. Haven’t we always been this way, though? It was naive hope that kept us going.

I can’t write it in any ordinary log, and I definitely can’t say it out loud, but I can write about it to you, Lance.

I think I still have a bit of that naive hope that’s pushing me forward. I’m not all out of fumes yet. I believe Shiro is out there. I believe he’s alive and that we can find him. It’s been days, months, but he’s not gone.

He’s not. He’s not.

I don’t want to talk to any one of you about it because I’m scared of what you’ll say. I’m on a sinking ship, Lance. The slightest force will topple me over. If one of you tells me that he’s gone or to stop looking for him, I think I’ll stop everything altogether. It won’t be a choice or out of spite. I just wouldn’t be able to keep going. To live means to look for Shiro. There’s no other way.

I could talk to Pidge about it. She’s better at the search than I am, and she’s been at it for far longer. Just thinking about her makes me feel bad. I remember that one time when we first landed on Arus and I yelled at her for putting herself before Voltron.

I get it now. I do. Pidge is better than me. She can multitask, she can pursue a goal, she can save the universe while finding her brother.

I am just selfish scum with a single-minded drive. I’m not stupid. I know that even without Voltron, we could help so many planets. I guess we still are. But frankly, I’m not even thinking about that. I’m only thinking about Shiro, and I don’t even know how to find him.

What do you do, Lance, when you feel like this?

You’re so different from me. Maybe it’ll do me some good to be different and better.

I miss

It’s odd, but I enjoyed fighting with you. Definitely not like, actual fighting. I remember being pissed the hell off all the time. That wasn’t fun. But it’s so stupid that it makes me fond. Remembering those fights is like watching a silly cartoon where all of the characters keep yelling and bickering in my head.

I don’t have the energy to fight anymore. To speak more than necessary is so tiring. Even sitting with my own thoughts weighs me down.

This is nice, though. Writing to you. It’s as nice as it gets.

I wish it were real. Me writing these letters—I’m just playing pretend. What have I done? I’ve made up this imaginary version of you that listens to me and writes to me back. I dream up the letters you’ll send in response. Wow Keith, calling me a jackass? — You’re so mean Keith, tell me more — well, I don’t want you to die either! — Don’t worry Keith, we’ll find Shiro. Everything will be okay again.

You don’t write back. It’s all in my head. A delusion of the way we could be. I don’t have the energy to deny it like I used to.

From the start, I’ve had this idea of how we could’ve been. But we’ve always been fire on fire, so I’ve continued the vision in my head and heart. It’s so stupid and childish. I’ve turned you into an imaginary friend.

You’re not even yourself. You’re just a variation of my mind trying to comfort myself. I haven’t even gotten the chance to know the real you. We’re comrades and we’d die for each other, but what more than that?

Isn’t that the way I am with everyone here? Do I even know any of you? Pidge, Hunk, Allura, and Coran. Who are you all to me? Who are you past people I’d lay my life down for?

And does that even mean anything? I’d lay my life down for anyone.

These past months in space, at war—did I ever get to know the team? I can’t help but see the great divide between us. There’s you all, and there’s me. It’s my fault that it’s this way. Shiro glued us all together, but now that he’s been taken I drift further and further away. I am truly in space.

Tell me what to do, Lance. Tell me how to find him. I’ll listen to you. I’ll follow you like a light at the end of the tunnel.

,Keith

E-LOG #003

80 DAYS

E-LOG #004

84 DAYS

E-LOG #005

89 DAYS

E-LOG #006

92 DAYS

Lance,

Allura wants to find a new black paladin. Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me? Who does she think she is? How dare she let anyone take Shiro’s place? It’s not. IT’S HIS LION. BLACK IS HIS. NO ONE WILL FLY BLACK BUT HIM. IT CAN BE NO OTHER WAY.

I’ll kill whoever is the next black paladin. No. No, no. Lance, I wouldn’t. I’m not all so terrible like that. I’ll, we’ll save the universe. We’ll find Shiro. With Black, we can find Shiro. Right? Right?

How would she even find anyone? Are we going to make fucking applications and send them out to the whole universe? It’s so fucking ridiculous.

We’ve got to find another way. We’ve got to find Shiro. He’ll know what to do. He’ll know better than all of us. He always has.

,Keith

BLACK-LION PALADIN ENTRIES:

Hello. This is Keith. I’ve synched up my datapad to the lion. Testing. Testing.

BLACK-LION PALADIN ENTRIES:

I don’t know why you fucking accepted me. This doesn’t help us form Voltron either. Now we don’t have a Red Paladin. Couldn’t you have taken Allura? Why didn’t you wait till Shiro came back? You know he will come back, right?

Lance,

I’m so scared. Why did Black accept me? Does she know something? Does it mean something about Shiro? It pains me to think a second further about it. I’m getting a huge headache. My heads been hurting for the past few weeks. I don’t know how to make it stop.

,Keith

E-LOG #007

102 DAYS

Red picked Lance.

Lance,

It’s so funny that the Red Lion picked you.

Not really. Not at all actually, but I found it a little bit funny and now I can’t help but find the fact that I find it funny, funny. I feel so insane. I feel delusional. Here I am, laughing to myself. Shiro’s still gone. I don’t want to be here. You don’t want to be here. No one wants to be here. What a bundle of joy we are.

It all goes to show how replaceable we all are. Sure, not anyone can fly the lions, but the point is that the lions can and will pick pilots at their will. Red isn’t mine anymore. And Black can’t be mine—he belongs to Shiro.

Don’t you get it? We’re so small. We’re so insignificant. We’re nothing more than soldiers. We can fly all the grand things we want but at the end we’re just racing towards our graves. I can see it now, a little bit. The end of everything.The end of us. We’ll all die. We’ll all go missing.

Something will happen to us and the world will move on. The universe will move on. I was naive to think it would work differently because we are parts of Voltron.

I’m so tired, Lance. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of searching. I don’t think I’ll even get a chance to die in battle. I might just go to sleep one day and never wake up.

Not intentionally. God no. I don’t have the privilege to kill myself. I may be replaceable but I’m still needed. Who will look for Shiro if I’m gone? Certainly not all of you.

Looking doesn’t matter anyways. I’m not good at it anyways. I’m not going to find him.

It’ll take time to find him. I will find him. I will find him. I will find him.

Why am I so useless?

Out of all people, why did Black choose me?

If you hadn’t become the Red Paladin, I would’ve wished that you would have become the Black Paladin. I think I would’ve hated you for it, but I’d follow you in a heartbeat.

I would have been a shitty right hand man. I would’ve caused more problems for you than actual help. I might’ve even caused more problems for you than I do now. It’s hard to say. I suppose I am always competing with myself in the ‘who can do worse?’ competition.

But you’re strong, Lance. You’re brave, Lance. You know how to stand on your own two feet. Your mind isn’t muddled up and you always know what to do to make things better. Even with me messing things up, you would’ve led Voltron to victory again and again.

Instead, now we can’t even form Voltron. Lotor’s off doing whatever, and—I don’t know!

You’re still holding everything together. I don’t know how you haven’t snapped at me yet. I anticipate it’ll happen soon. I actually expected it to happen ages ago. I can see all the sullen and harsh looks everyone is giving me. They don’t hide their contempt anymore. They used to, back when Shiro first went missing. But now that he’s been gone long enough, my incompetence has shone enough to make a dent on their hard work and efforts.

You somehow manage to calm that. I don’t know what you do. I barely pay attention. But there hasn’t been as many spats and arguments as I’d expect there to be. So, good job Lance. I should probably tell this to you in person. I should probably talk to you. Talk to someone, at least outside of a mission.

Maybe I would.

The truth is, I don’t think I know how to anymore.

I don’t know how to look you all in the eyes knowing I’m failing you. I don’t know how to hold a conversation where I’m not angry. And I’m always so, so angry. It’s exhausting. The only time I’m not angry is when I’m falling asleep, when I’m so dreadfully sad that it drains me.

Can I be selfish, Lance? Can I ask you to help me? Help me, Lance. Help me be better. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I want to be good to the team. To the universe. I want to find Shiro and let everything go back to normal.

You always know how to fix a situation. Do you think you could fix this for me?

,Keith

Lance,

It’s so stupid of me that I practically raced to my datapad to write to you, but I have to tell someone. You’ll never guess what happened.

Today you goaded me into eating lunch with the team. That’s not the crazy part. You’re always badgering me in some way. You ask to train with me even though you turn serious hand to hand combat matches into stupid wrestling fights. You steal my things and make me chase after you for them, claiming that I need the cardio. I DO CARDIO! I DON’T NEED TO RUN DOWN THE DAMN HALLS. You’re always up to something. Anyways .

I wasn’t in the mood for any of your antics today. You want me to eat lunch with the team? Fine. Whatever. I’ll do it. It’s just one meal anyways, and I eat quickly. If I denied you I know you’d have followed me around, maybe even to my room (you’re so weird sometimes).

So I sat at my usual spot and ate. Everyone looked a little surprised, even though I didn’t say anything. It makes sense. I usually grab my food and eat in the control room so I can keep an eye on the screens that monitor Galran activities in our most recently visited planetary systems. Id’ say I eat with the team around once every other week. So it’s not that uncommon. I don’t know why they were acting like they’ve never seen me before.

Whatever. They’re hard to read anyways.

But that’s not the crazy part. You want to know the crazy part?

We were all eating in silence when Pidge asked me to pass the salt. It’s not really salt, but whatever. It’s salty. So I pass it to her, at least I think I do. I’m not really looking at what I’m grabbing.

Turns out she’s not looking either, because I fully passed her some weird chilly powder variation and she ends up dumping it into her food and EATING it. She starts coughing like crazy. I pay attention at this point. I’m not that cruel not to care.

I’m about to apologize when the craziest thing happens. Okay well, I’ve said that ten times throughout the letter. Bear with me Lance, I’m not that good of a story teller.

But Allura starts laughing. Can you believe that?

You probably can. You make everyone laugh. But she was watching the whole interaction and she just doubled over with her head on the table and started cackling. It was so alarming that I didn’t know what to do. I don’t even apologize. That’s how shocked I am. Then Pidge starts flipping me off while coughing at the same time and Lance is asking Hunk what happened because apparently he missed it and it was just so, so crazy.

I don’t think I’ve heard a single person genuinely laugh since Shiro went missing. There’s been remarks and chuckles over communications while on missions, but those don’t count. Those are filled with tension and I’ve always been quick to shut them down quickly. But seeing someone laugh the way Allura did? It’s like coming across a shark on land. Or an elephant underwater.

And Allura at that too. Have I ever actually heard Allura laugh? Maybe a few times. It makes me a little emotional, actually. Oddly so. I don’t know why the idea of making Allura laugh is having me tear up. That’s so weird of me. I’m not sad or anything. I don’t even know why I feel so strongly about it. It’s as I said in the past entries—I’m not as close with you guys as you all are with each other and Shiro’s disappearance furthered that. I don’t know why I’d care about making you guys laugh.

I guess I care. That’s just the way it is.

Okay now that I think about it, this is not all that crazy. Now I’m embarrassed. I’m sitting in my room with tear tracks on my face because…because I accidentally gave someone chilli powder at dinner and caused a little scene?

This is probably a typical day for you, Lance. You’d do something like this. Maybe even on purpose.

Regardless, I’ve got to be on the lookout. Pidge hadn’t said much but I know she won’t take this lightly. She’ll give her payback soon. I don’t know what it’ll be, but I have to be cautious. It makes me excited for some reason. Like I’ll be getting a nice surprise instead of something annoying.

I miss Pidge.

We never did too much together. I always tried staying out of her way. So I actually don’t know what I miss, because nothing has really changed between us. I have been hearing her voice less. It’s not like I spend so much time in common areas.

I probably should. Not should. I want to. I think I want to. The idea of sitting with everyone makes me a little bit excited, but nauseous at the same time. I’m not even going to try to analyze why.

I don’t think I can do that. Maybe if you force me to, Lance. I could do it then.

I feel alive today. Not that I wasn’t alive yesterday, or the day before. But it’s like you came along and woke me up from a deep, deep slumber. I was sinking, falling until you came along. You really are my right hand man. No one else could pull me up the way you do.

I’m a little scared to stop writing. If I stop writing, then I might stop feeling this way. I’ll go back to the way I was before. This abnormal day will end and everything will revert again. I don’t want it to be that way. I don’t want to go yet.

It doesn’t matter. Life will move one whether I’m hunched over a datapad writing or whether I’m in bed or whether I’m fighting. I can never cling to the way a certain thing is; even if I’m holding tight onto it, it’ll just change in my hands.

I’ll just have to let go first.

,Keith

BLACK-LION PALADIN ENTRIES:

Pidge found Matt. No further updates on Shiro’s status from his end. What do you think, Black? Do you have any ideas on what we should do?

Lance,

The Black Lion isn’t listening to me. I don’t know how to make him do so. How do you even get a piece of metal to listen? Kick it a few times? You’d do something like that. Actually, scratch that. You treat Red very well. I’ve only seen the inside of the Red Lion like, once after we switched lions. It’s certainly nicer than the way I kept the Lion. You actually keep stuff there. Do you think Black will listen to me if I keep things in the cockpit? Like gifts? What do you even gift a lion?

,Keith

Lance,

I found some nice rocks from the planet Sen-Tau. I put it on Black’s dashboard. What do I do now? Do I wait?

,Keith

Lance,

It has come to my attention that I may be delusional. Throwing the rocks out. But seriously Lance, how do I bond with the fucking Lion? He won’t tell me anything about Shiro.

,Keith

E-Log #009

Lance told me that Black’s not going to let me in if I don’t accept that I’m his Paladin. I told him to go to hell. What am I supposed to do now, Lance? Ignore that. This is not a letter. I’m not talking to Lance. Not even pretend Lance. God, I’m so dumb. I’m going to apologize to him.

BLACK-LION PALADIN ENTRIES:

I have to bond with you, right? That means telling you things, right? I don’t even know what to tell to a lion. Let’s start with basic things. Okay.

Hi, I’m Keith Kogane. I’m half-human, half-galran. My favorite color is Red and I grew up in Texas. Do you even know what Texas is? My favorite sweet food is Fruit Loops and my favorite savory meal is meatballs and pasta. I enjoy sports a little bit. My hobbies are reading, working out, and flying planes. I guess writing to Lance is also one of my hobbies, but that’s kind of creepy. Disregard that. My favorite memory in space is when we had that food fight. My least favorite memory is

This is dumb. I’m going to ask Lance if I actually have to do this.

[PAUSE ENTRY]

[UNPAUSE ENTRY]

Lance asked me what exactly I was telling the lion. I recited it back to him, minus the weird part where I write to him. He looked at me really, really funny. I don’t even know why! I thought I left out the creepy thing! He looked like he was trying not to laugh or smile, but also like he was seconds away from crying.

Whatever. Not my business. He said I should continue. I’m sure he’s making fun of me a little bit.

I mentioned Texas, right? Well I grew up in the foster-system. My dad died when I was seven and I don’t know who my mom is. Galran, for sure. Already found that out. Still, I have a brother named Shiro. You know him, right? He flew you before me. We’re not actually related and he never adopted me, but he still took me in and cared for me. He’s the reason I was provided a good opportunity for my life (never mind that I messed it up the first time he went missing). Even though I stole his car and did all sorts of dumb stuff, he didn’t even get mad at me. What a strange guy. He helped me become a better pilot and taught me all sorts of stuff. He’d always go around saying, patience yields focus . I’m sure he’s said it many times in this very cockpit.

Well, patience yields focus. I’m being patient, Black. I’m focusing, Black. I’m trying to connect with you.

Don’t you feel anything when I talk about Shiro? He’s had so many victories and defeats with you. He always talked about bonding with you and how he tried to understand the things you’d tell him. Does that no longer matter to you, or do you only stay silent because it’s me you’re talking to? If you have no interest in finding Shiro or listening to me, then why did you ever let me in to begin with? I thought it was because Shiro told you he wanted me to lead, but you don’t even care about him! You don’t care to find him, or else you would’ve—I don’t know!

Maybe you would’ve mind linked to him like you weirdly did with Zarkon. Or something! You’re a magic fucking lion! You can do anything! You’re not me! Why don’t you listen?

I should’ve known this was a dumb idea. I can’t talk to you. I never even talked to Red—she just got me. I don’t even have her now anyways. I shouldn’t have listened to Lance. Bye.

Dear Lance,

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I know you’re trying your best. I know you’re being there for me. I’m not that dumb and unobservant. I know you’re paying attention to my moods and trying to distract me on bad days by doing all sorts of stupid shit. I’m sorry I spit at your attempts to rope me into fun activities. You must think I hate you, Lance. I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you at all. I far from hate you.

You must feel so lost trying to like, fix me or something. There’s no instructions in the whole universe for someone like me. I’m just an angry and volatile guy. I’m not cooperative and when I am, it can end in a second. You’re trying so hard to keep up and I’m sorry. I wish I could be easier for you. I wish I could be different for you.

I’d like to say I’d be different if Shiro never went missing, but we fought before he was gone too, right? We always had something to say about each other.

I guess you’ve grown up. It’s clear that I haven’t.

Nothing bad has happened recently that I’m feeling this way. I just woke up feeling so miserable about the amount of work that’s been dumped on your shoulders just because Red chose you. You didn’t choose to be my right hand man. It was a task put upon you.

And we can all say that it was Red’s decision, but at the end of the day, you became the Red Paladin because of me. The Red Paladin is the support the leader needs. They are the arm that lifts the team up, the arm that links us all together and the arm that keeps us hanging when we’re at the edge of the cliff. You became the Red Paladin because I need you, Lance.

I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I need you. You didn’t need this unnecessary burden because of that.

You listen to my plans full out even when they’re ridiculous and dangerous. When you point out problems, you do it nicely, like they’re just suggestions.You smile when I speak. You include me in team activities and plan our training schedules when I’m too deep into a search lead to care. You make sure I’m eating, which I usually do. You scold me if I’m not sleeping enough, but not in a mean way. You get me away from my work in a way that I don’t realize I’m not working anymore.

Isn’t it so exhausting to be my babysitter?

I’m so selfish. All I do is take, take, and take you just keep giving like you’re an endless well of kindness. Haven’t I hit the bottom yet? Aren’t you at your wits end with me? Where’s the rage? Where’s the anger? If you hit me now I’d understand why. I won’t even complain.

It’s taken four months for the fog to clear after Shiro’s gone missing. It’s not like I’ve been stuck in this messy haze the whole time; but I see it now, how terrible I was in the beginning.

Shiro’s my brother, but he was everyone else’s leader too. He is your role model, Lance. Pidge’s brother’s friend—they must’ve crossed paths many times. He’s Hunk’s guidance. Allura’s co-leader. Coran’s assistant. He’s your guys’ friend too.

When he went missing after the fight, I treated it like I lost him and you all didn’t. I hated you all for letting me lose him again, and being okay with losing him. I was so wrapped up in my head that I didn’t realize you guys lost him too.

You guys needed me then. Maybe just as much as you needed each other. And I wasn’t there.

I don’t even know how to apologize for all that. I don’t know if the memories of those months linger in the back of your head or if you hold resentment towards me for them. We all have this cohesive system now. Voltron works, we’re all doing what we need to do—I even talk with people (sometimes). The other day I was in the hangar and Hunk asked me to pass the wrench. I passed it to him! I’m capable of social interaction, Lance! Not a dumb kid!

Sorry. I know you don’t think I am. 

I have had other conversations too. Allura and I have gotten closer than I could’ve imagined when I found out I was Galra. Most of our talks linger around business, but sometimes she mentions things she likes. We recently liberated a planet with apparently ‘very beautiful trees’. Turns out she likes nature. I don’t say much back to her, but it counts as a conversation to me.

Coran talks to me more than I talk to him, but what’s new with that? If we’re in the same room, he rambles on and on. Sometimes I don’t listen, which I know is bad of me. It’s hard to keep track of what he’s saying when you don’t have even half his vocabulary. Sometimes I ask him where certain logs are. He knows the castle best, after all.

Pidge is quiet with me. They’re more talkative after they found Matt, but not with me. Just like. In general. Truthfully, I don’t think she knows what to talk to me about. She must think I’m uninterested in her work. I kind of am uninterested in technology, but I don’t think I’d mind hearing about her projects. I minded back when Shiro first went missing, when I didn’t think anything else was important except for finding him. I must’ve brushed her off so many times. I feel sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

I talk with you the most. Actually talk. You ask me all sorts of questions and don’t leave me alone till I answer. Stupid questions too—I know you do not urgently need to know whether I’d prefer to ride a unicorn or a dragon. Dragon, by the way. They’re more agile.

And you tell me things too. Lots of things. I could write a book about you.

You hate taco bell but think their Baja Blast drink is great. Cool. I’ve never fucking eaten there. When you were little you used to think loafs of bread were grown in the ground like plants. Okay, I guess? Your favorite color is blue. Who would’ve guessed? Your favorite subject is biophysics and your least favorite subject is abstract algebra. Sucks to suck, I liked abstract algebra. You can do a cartwheel. Can unfortunately attest to this—you proceeded to demonstrate and knock some books off my table right after telling me this. You don’t like white lighting because it gives you headaches. Well why didn’t you mention it earlier? I would’ve changed the castle settings to help you out. You hate getting dry skin but sometimes you accept it because you can pretend the dryness is from beach sand on your skin. Are you okay??? You ‘taught’ me some Spanish curse words. Lance, I grew up in Texas. I know Spanish curse words. Puta puta puta. You have ADHD so you miss social cues sometimes. Damn. I must’ve yelled at you for that at one point. Sorry. Your first job was at McDonalds. I am even more sorry for that. English is your second language. I wish I was bilingual. You have naturally curly hair. Crazy. I assumed you curled it every morning before going to fight an evil empire. You’re double jointed. I can also attest to this after you demonstrated it to me. You can sing. You also demonstrated this to me. You can dance. I am SO glad you didn’t demonstrate this to me. You have a big family. I already know, I heard you talk about them so many times. You used to chew your nails. Me too.

Yeah you talk a lot. It’s nice though. It’s a convenient trait if you’re an interesting person. Which, you are.

I got really sidetracked. Really, really sidetracked. This was weird of me. Shit, should I delete this? This totally makes me seem like a stalker. Lance, what do I do? Okay, that made me sound pathetic.

TL;DR: I’m really sorry, and you’re kind of cool.

,Keith

Lance,

He’s back. He’s fucking back. Okay I have to go now but I wanted to let you know. Bye.

,Keith

Lance,

I don’t know what to do with myself now that Shiro’s back. There’s this huge rush of emotion and I just don't know what to do with it. I’ll randomly become giddy or excited and then suddenly become nervous and paranoid. I feel the constant need to be moving around. Sleep is hard to come by. It’s like I’m a robot that’s been turned on to the max dial.

He’s back. He’s really back. He’s real and he’s back. I don’t even know what else to say. Nothing else goes through my brain. I’m just, I feel so silly telling you. I’m so happy, Lance. I hope you know that. I hope he knows that.

We put him in a pod the second I found him. I don’t even know how I found him, or how I knew when and where to look. It was as if a string tugged me to the lion hangar and I followed it out to space till I saw his ship. It must’ve been Black. I knew he’d come through for his paladin. I knew it. Maybe my other entries indicate otherwise, but listen, I was patient. I was focused. Okay? It all ended up working out.

He was confused when he woke up. I think he was a little bit scared but he overall seemed to understand what was happening and who we were. It was so

Lance you don’t understand how much it has kept me up at night, the fear of what they’re doing to him. More than worrying about finding him, I was also worried about the state we’d find him in. I knew we’d find him. It was either finding him or die trying. But what was happening to him this whole time, this second time, I didn’t know what we’d find. Would he recognize us? Would he be further replaced? Would he be able to speak? These thoughts and theories have kept me up so many nights. And the worst part is that there was no way to console or quash them.

You can’t understand how unbelievably happy I am that he’s okay. That he can still smile at me and say, ‘hey keith’. Thinking about it has me crying. One second.

Okay back. Sorry about that. I got a little overwhelmed. My bad. We’ve been taking it easy as a team to accommodate him. We don’t want to stress him out with things about the war. Coran and Pidge have been running test after test on him. So far, everything is going well. So well that it scares me. If he’s turning out alright, then what did they do to him? What did they need from him if nothing changed?

We’ll figure it out, won’t we? Now that Shiro’s back, we can slowly figure everything out.

Tomorrow we’re going to examine his physical capabilities. I’m nervous about how it’ll go, but I think I can keep it together for a day. We’ve been through so many terrible months. What’s one day?

Other than that, I want to thank you again. I know I keep thanking you and apologizing to you. Maybe I should actually take a step up and actually do something for you. I can’t help it though. I get a little stupid around you.

Thanks for talking with Shiro. Like actually talking to him. I think the only words that come to mind when I see him are, ‘Are you okay?’ He’s got to be sick of it by now. But you sit him down and talk to him about random shit. Earth stuff. It must be a gentle reminder of the world he belongs to after spending so much time with the Galra. I think I overheard you guys talking about baseball yesterday. Baseball. I barely know anything about baseball. I know there’s a ball. There’s bases. A bat. Other things, I’m sure.

I’m sure it helps Shiro to see me, but it definitely helps him to talk. To be alive. You’re helping him the way you helped me. It’s good to see this development. You’re truly embracing your role as the Red Paladin by being there for not only me, but him. It’s going to be different now that Shiro’s back. You’re going to have to get used to supporting him and not me. Well, I’d appreciate the support, but you can put me on the backburner now.

I don’t know what I’m going to do now that Shiro’s back and the whole team is back to normal. I guess there is so much work in the war outside of Voltron. I’ll find somewhere to help. There’s the Coalition. The Blade. Matt and the rebels. Work is forever coming our way, and I can finally dedicate myself to something without messing it up.

You might argue me on this, but be honest Lance, me as the Black Paladin had us all over the place. It’s not my style. Flying Red is my style, but you’re honest to god way better at it than I am. I don’t want to hear any protests! You’re a good pilot! A great pilot! Stop doubting yourself.

Even if I was “good” as the Black Paladin, I don’t like being it. It just fills me with dread and this sinking feeling. It only reminds me of when Shiro was gone, which was not that long ago. The whole thing stresses me out. I’d rather not even think about it—it makes my heart race even as I write this.

But that’s all issues for later. I’ll obviously continue flying Black until Shiro makes a full recovery. Even if that takes a long time, I don’t mind doing it if I’m doing it for him. And he will make a full recovery. He’s doing good.

I…

So much has happened so soon. It hasn’t caught up to me yet. Everyone’s bursting with new energy. Pidge has upgraded the security on the whole castle. Hunk improved all the lion’s engines and also created ten different meals that definitely didn’t exist before. Coran somehow managed to clean the whole castle. The whole thing! Allura’s flung herself into quintessence research. Even you’ve got so much energy that you finished Allura’s paperwork for her. Paperwork! You! I could never imagine you doing paperwork. I suppose you are a diligent person, though.

I might be slacking a bit. I helped you with the paperwork and drafted a few strategies for the future, but my mind keeps buzzing back to Shiro. I think we’re all keeping busy so as to not overwhelm him, but I’m not that good at it. I always act on my first impulse. My instinct is to care for Shiro, but he’s honestly doing fine. He’s sleeping.

He’ll be here when I see him. He’s not going to disappear. Not again. Never again. I’ll make sure of it, Lance. This time everything will work out.

,Keith

Lance,

Okay, when I said we should take it easy now that Shiro’s back, I didn’t mean turn Voltron into some acrobatic performance crew for entertainment.

Backtrack. It’s not your fault. Not blaming you.

A good reputation and public image is important. I get it. But is it really more important than what we’re actually here to do? There’s whole colonies and civilizations that could’ve been freed in the time you spent performing. Moral is good. Support is good. But aren’t there other allies and rebel aids who can help foster that? Why do we have to use our most powerful planes and assets to gain traction?

You know what gains traction? Actually doing stuff. Actually freeing people. Turning Voltron into some kind of capitalistic marketing tactic isn’t going to help us.

Okay wait. I’m actually more pissed off about this than I thought I would be. Give me a second.

I lied, I have to go do something for the Blade. They assigned me a mission in the two seconds that I stepped away. Bye.

,Keith

BLADE MISSION REPORT:

OPERATIVE WILL INFILTRATE GALRA CRUIZER X27 AND DO A SWEEP OF ALL ARMS, PERSONNELS, AND SHIPS. OPERATIVE SHOULD PLACE NAIL BOMBS AT EVERY L-JUNCTION OF THE SHIP.

MISSION TIME: THIRTY DOBOSHES

MISSION STATUS: COMPLETE

BLADE MISSION REPORT:

OPERATIVE(S) WILL ELIMINATE GALRAN QUAD-COMMANDER XAJ WASFEN WITH SUPPLIED CHEMICALS. OPERATIVE(S) WILL RUN A FULL SWEEP OF THE SHIP AND LOAD ANY/ALL CARGO TO BLADE SHIP ZZD. OPERATIVE(S) SHOULD PLACE NAIL BOMBS AT EVERY L-JUNCTION OF THE SHIP.

MISSION TIME: THIRTY DOBOSHES

MISSION STATUS: COMPLETE

ADDITIONAL NOTES: BLADE OPERATIVE KOS WARNEX M.I.A., BLADE OPERATIVE ULIA JANTHOR M.I.A., BLADE OPERATIVE KEITH KOGANE INJURED.

BLADE PERSONAL NOTICE:

OPERATIVE KEITH KOGANE (YOU) HAS SUSTAINED INJURIES IN HIS LEFT ARM. INJURIES CONSIST OF A FRACTURED ULNA, THREE BROKEN PHALANGES, AND MILD INTERNAL BLEEDING. OPERATIVE MAY RESUME REGULAR MISSIONS AFTER TEN VARGAS.

Lance,

I pissed you all off again. I don’t even know if I feel bad about it.

I missed one of our dumb shows because I was on a mission with the Blades. This warranted a lecture from Allura and surprisingly, Hunk. They spoke of how teamwork is important and that every duty is important, even if I think it’s not.

Okay well I’m sorry that I think some jobs are more important than others.

The Blades are actually doing things. The other day we got rid of essentially ten kilo-tons of nuclear explosives! Gone! Dismantled! They were supposed to be launched at an ordinary planet with ordinary civilians for testing. Can you believe that? An entire species would be gone if we didn’t interfere. Where were you guys for this?

I’m not going to be sorry for coming to your dumb talent show. Not when there’s so much work like this to do.

I do feel sorry towards Shiro, though. I think that I’ve put him under some strain to accept his role as the Black Paladin again. In all honesty, I’m worried he doesn’t want to. He seems eager to help Voltron, but does he even want to be Voltron? I’m worried that by leaving again and again, I’m forcing him back into a role that he’s no longer interested in playing.

I’ll stick with the team a bit. I’ll be there for missions. None of this show crap. But Lance, you have to know, what the Blade of Marmora is doing is genuinely good. I like being useful there.

,Keith

BLADE PERSONAL REQUEST:

THIS MESSAGE ACKNOWLEDGES BLADE MEMBER KEITH KOGANE’S REQUEST FOR TEMPORARY LEAVE, REASON: AIDING VOLTRON. THREE QUINTANTS ALLOCATED.

Lance,

The Blade let me come back for around four days. Three and a half-ish. I know I’ve been spending more time there than you all would like. I can’t help it. I’m getting so much done there. It’s one project after the other. Maybe I can’t see the happy faces of the civilians helped by our work, but I can still find satisfaction in what I’m doing. The behind the scenes action is equally as important as what you guys are doing.

I don’t know if this would get through to your head. I tried to explain it to you once, when I came to visit between missions and strategize with you guys. You told me that you know the Blade does important work. If you know this, then why are you upset with me? I’m accomplishing real things!

You told me I have a responsibility to Voltron as the Black Paladin. It’s true, I am one of the Black Paladins, but Shiro is back. One day things will switch. Don’t you think that’ll happen soon? Shiro has been more and more involved in fights and Voltron’s battles. Black will take him back. I didn’t tell you all this. I suspected you would look at me like I’m dumb.

There’s several reasons why I’m with the Blades a lot more than I’m with you. It’s nothing personal, I swear. I swear I sincerely enjoy being with all of you. But fighting the Galra comes before what I do or don’t enjoy.

The first reason is that the Blade is doing a lot of good work. I said this many, many times above. I suspect this is why no one has completely tried to reject or refute my attempts to go on Blade missions. You guys get this.

The second reason is a little more superficial, but Voltron has become a little too political. You guys go on far more diplomatic journeys and shows than actual missions and expeditions. We’re trying so hard to gain people’s favor. Is what we need really people’s favor? They can figure their own things out. We’re not some sort of political symbol that belongs to any certain planet or a trump card that lets us be used. I’m worried about what Voltron will become if it continues down this path. We’re promising this planet something and that planet something else. What happens when there’s interplanetary feuds? Problems that aren’t the Galra? Are we going to take sides in these things too? Do we even have time for that?

I don’t want Voltron to turn into a shell of what it truly is.

My third reason for wanting to join the Blades is a little bit personal. I want to find out more about my mother. I want to know where I came from. It may seem stupid since I’ve lived my whole life without her, but I need to know so bad. It’s a necessity as deep as my desire for food and water. Being in the dark about these things, I can’t stand it. Not at all. My lack of knowledge drives me mad.

I want to know. Who is she? Was she? Why did she come to Earth? Why did she have me? Why did she leave me? Did she have something to do with the war? She must’ve. Was she on our side, or the Galra’s? 

There’s so many questions. The Blade is so secretive and hardly lets me explore for answers, but it’s a step closer to knowing than I was before.

My fourth reason is a little more selfish. You’ll be mad about this one.

To no one’s surprise, I do not want to be the Black Paladin. This is a major issue because, you know, I am the Black Paladin. If I admitted this to you, you’d probably call me a coward for running away from my responsibilities. But Lance I don’t want it. I don’t want to be the Black Paladin so badly. The idea of leading has always struck such an ugly nerve in my body. I led before because I had to. Because Shiro was gone. It was terrible, and I never want to do it again.

I suppose you all deserve an official notice of me stepping down rather than this ignorant treatment. But have I actually stepped down? Can I step down? I don’t know how to properly leave. I have one foot out the door and I’m stuck. I’m paralyzed.

You’ll argue that the team needs me. That we can’t be Voltron without me. Well guess what? The team needs Shiro. The team needed him when he disappeared, and you know what happened? The lions worked around it. The lions figured out a solution.

If the lions can accommodate for Shiro’s absence, why can’t they do the same for mine? Isn’t it the same?

I’ve thought it all out. It’s not careless abandon that’s letting me go back to the Blades again and again. I’ve spent so many nights thinking about it ever since I got the news about my heritage. I’ve been pushing it off because I was needed here. Now that I’m not, I can be needed elsewhere, and I can go elsewhere.

Please let me go, Lance. Please be Voltron without me.

,Keith

BLADE MISSION REPORT:

OPERATIVE(S) WILL INFILTRATE COMMAND CENTER OF GALRAN FLEET TE-PIN-LAU AND DOWNLOAD ALL FILES AND LOGS.

MISSION TIME: THIRTY DOBOSHES

MISSION STATUS: COMPLETE

MISSION NOTES: THREE CASUALTIES (KNOE FAUL, GEX TRIPET, DEN TANX), TWO INJURED (KEITH KOGANE)

Lance,

They died. Oh my fucking god. They’re dead. I know that happens. Knew that could happen. But they’re dead. They really are dead. They’re not coming back. Not at all. They’re not supposed to die. What the hell. What the hell.

,Keith

BLACK-LION PALADIN ENTRIES:

DELETE FORMER ENTRIES [Y/N]

YES

Lance,

I’m leaving for the Blades. Maybe for good. 

I don’t know

I was meaning to tell you

I’m going to

I probably should’ve told you all properly. My feelings. My reasonings. I’m not just running away. Maybe a little bit. But it ended up working out the way I wanted it to. Shiro’s the Black Paladin. Finally, things are back to normal. I can fade back into the background, like it had always been planned for me to do from the start. I assure you that this is what I want.

It’s not like we’re never going to see each other ever again. They’ll probably deploy me as assistance on joint Blade-Voltron missions. We’ll get to work together. It won’t be that different.

Don’t be too sad about me moving out. I’m pretty quiet so my absence won’t make that much of a difference. Hunk might be sad about it. You’ve got to comfort him. And Shiro too, even if he won’t show any distress. Then again, I don’t need to remind you. You’re good at being there for people.

I’ll miss you. I already miss you.

I miss you barging into my room in the middle of the day and dragging me here and there by the arm. I miss your poor attempts at beatboxing. I miss you getting yelled at by Allura for spending too much GAC on video games at space malls. I miss when you guys played hide and seek and Pidge hid in the vents and jumped down and scared me. I miss getting football tackled by Hunk during training. I miss Coran running scans on Shiro’s prosthetic arm. I miss the dumb camera Hunk used to bring around for a few months before it randomly exploded. I miss when Allura didn’t feed the mice her sweet treats so they started attacking her. I miss your voice. I miss hearing spanish. I miss the sky and the desert and your ocean blue eyes. I miss Red. I miss dirt. I miss when Hunk beat everyone at arm wrestling but then Coran showed up and absolutely showed him down. I miss when we found out Pidge has a massive dust allergy because we went to a desert planet.

I miss your hair. Your soft skin. Your lanky arms and legs. Your energy. Your loudness. I miss you a lot. I miss you so much. I

I gotta go.

See you from across the war, Keith

Chapter Text

Hi Keith!

I was snooping through your room (don’t ask why) and I saw this data pad and it turns out YOU’VE BEEN WRITING LETTERS TO ME? I didn’t read them because that’s rude and I know how to mind my own business lolllllllllll.

Anything you wanna tell me you gotta say it to my face, Keithy boy. I’ve got a nice face, you know. You could spare some time to look at it eheheheheheheheheheheh.

I can’t wait till you come back so I can hold this over you. Well, maybe I won’t hold it over you that much. You’d totally get defensive and stuff. If you’re reading this, which you probably are, don’t feel attacked! I’m not judging you!

Okay wait. Let me say it better.

I, LANCE MCCLAIN, SOLEMNLY SWEAR THAT I AM NOT MAKING FUN OF YOU FOR WRITING ME LETTERS IN YOUR JOURNAL. I RESPECT AND DO NOT JUDGE WHAT YOU DO WITH YOUR TIME. I DO NOT FIND IT WEIRD.

It’s honestly kind of sweet and interesting? But also a little scary because seriously Keith, what are you writing about me? For all I know you could’ve detailed several ways to kill me.

Okay, okay, sorry. No poking fun.

…I’ll still bother you about this when you come back from whatever long term mission the Blades have you on. I can’t help it. A guys gonna be curious if this cool, slightly suave, mysterious, mildly good looking dude is writing him letters.

I’ll see you when you come back.

,Lance (BTW hiding this datapad better so that other nosey people cough Pidge don’t find it)

Keith,

You are coming back, right?

,Lance

Elsewhere…

aA bB cC dD eE fF gG hH iI jJ kK lL mM nN oO pP qQ rR sS tT uU vV wW xX yY zZ

Apple

Ball

Cat

Dinosaur

Elephant

Texas Kogane

Takashi Shirogane

Lance McClain

Pidge Holt

Hunk Garret

Allura

Coran

Matt Holt

Kolivan

Krolia

Blue

Red

Yellow

Green

Black

Dear Lance,

It’s been ten months since I last wrote to you. It’s been ten months since I’ve written in English at all. Please ignore any gibberish above. I was just practicing.

The delay is unintentional. I was working left and right with the Blades. I was getting so much done, a lot more than I did with Voltron, but it was a lot less satisfying than I thought it would be. Voltron was nice. Voltron was good.

Still is good. Or should be. I can’t tell from where I am right now.

My letters were never meant to reach you, but this letter really won’t reach you. I’ve found some wide and flat leaves while scouring the area on the space-whale. Our suits are equipped with pens in the case of an emergency, but I hadn’t thought to use one until it fell out of my belt. I haven’t written anything by hand since I left Earth. Writing makes me feel nostalgic.

It’s such a mundane thing. Like, I’m just writing. I’m thinking of some stuff and I’m putting it on paper. Well, a leaf. How groundbreaking. Crazy, right? (I’m being sarcastic, if you couldn’t tell. I’m not delirious or anything).

I’m getting a little bit emotional writing this, which is weird because I haven’t even written anything emotional yet. Writing to you makes me feel so human. Like I belong to Earth. And I am human and I do belong somewhere, but its

I don’t know how to say it. I don’t even know what I’m describing. 

Everywhere in space, throughout the war, we get used to logging our words and thoughts on datapads. We double encode and triple encode our messages. No one like, physically writes or anything. Even when I used to write you letters, I’d use a stylus and write on the datapad like I was mimicking a paper and pen. I doubt I could even find paper in the Castle ship. Not that the Alteans couldn’t produce paper, but they were so so far ahead of it.

I’m honestly surprised I found this pen. The Galra are far ahead of such technologies too, and this includes the Blade. But I suppose the Blades have last minute resorts of communication should all lines be down. I’m ever so grateful that they do. I don’t think I could let go of this. I could never let go of writing.

Okay, enough of that. I can imagine you saying something dumb, like calling me a nerd.

Okay what the fuck, why is that making me tear up?

If I’m crying I might as well pull out the big guns. I’m not embarrassed anyways. I’m writing on a fucking leaf.

I found my mom, Lance. I found her.

Her name is Krolia. She’s sixty three Galran years old. That’s around fifty five human years. I’m…around twenty years old? Maybe not by time that’s passed on Earth, but I’m pretty sure I’ve aged two years since coming to space. One year on the castle and one year on the space whale, although it’s hard to say when on the space whale I turned twenty. Time’s kind of weird around here. I’ll explain in a bit.

But yeah, I found my mom.

I don’t really know what else to say about it. You might’ve thought this reunion would be emotional. Maybe I’d be happy. Or angry that she left. Or demanding of answers—well, I sort of did demand answers? You might think I’ve cried over it, or fought with her and yelled, or gotten angry and ran away.

Well, I don’t know what to say Lance. I found my mom and she’s just some woman. I don’t know what else is there.

She’s Galran, she’s my colleague, and she’s my only company on this whale. I know a little bit about her, both from observation and conversation. Her hairstyle is odd—you would HATE it, Lance. I can’t wait till you meet her. She’s awfully alert at all times, she chews her nails, her eyes are really yellow, and she has dry joints. Whatever the Galran equivalent of psoriasis is.

The things I learned about her from talking to her are also minimal. She actually enjoys food goo. Can you tell Hunk that? I want to see his reaction to her chowing down a bowl of it. She does stretches for fun. And works out for fun. It’s weird because I also do those things…sort of for fun. It makes me wonder if I liked those things because I’m like her or because I myself like those things. But I didn’t even know her before, back when I first started those hobbies. Oh well. At least she doesn’t read. That’s one thing different between us. She said she had a terrible attention span as a little school kid.

She joined the Blade as a girl when she ran away from home.

She had a dad, a mom, and a brother. All Galran. Her dad was the chairman of defense weapons in the colony she grew up at. Her mother was a retired Galran commander who worked as a drill instructor. Her brother was well older, a little older than Shiro, and he was a colonel in the Galran army.

So yeah. Big Galran supremacists and whatever. They’re all dead by the way.

The good thing is that I’ll never have to worry about a stuffy family reunion with strangers…because they’re dead. The bad thing is that this was an incredibly awkward conversation to have with Krolia.

I couldn’t really gauge her expression when she told me this. She didn’t really sound sad. She didn’t sound happy either. She just said all this, and didn’t elaborate.

It makes me wonder if that’s how she’d talk about dad and I.

“Yeah I had a husband. Texas Kogane. He’s dead. A son too. Who knows where he is?”

I’d like to say I can imagine her saying that, but I can’t. I can’t imagine anything because I hardly know her.

Well, it’s not like it matters. She’s my colleague before she’s my mom. She made that much clear when she left. If she’ll put the war before us, so will I. And I can’t help it—I can’t make our relationship more than I see it as. I can’t make flowers that’ve been snipped at the bud suddenly bloom and grow.

I can’t love her like that. Maybe I once did, and maybe I will, but I can’t do that. Nothing’s stopping me. The love’s just not there. She’s just my colleague. All there is to talk about is status reports and training and missions and our times in the war.

Even if I grow to love her, could it be as a mother? When I imagine a future with her, I imagine flashbacks of two comrades sharing a smoke in a gritty cabin of a shitty spaceship. Not knowing which day is our last. Fighting together. I could love her the way I love the Blades.

It’s weird, Lance. Really weird. She’s held me before. She’s sung to me before.

Imagine you like, worked at Dominos or something. And suddenly your shift leader suddenly goes “Hey by the way I gave birth to you.” It’s like that. Or something. The hell should I know?

I miss my dad.

That’s what I think of the most. I finally have my mom and all I can think of is my dad. It’s not the way I missed him when he died. Well, it might be. He’s died so long ago that I don’t even remember the way I missed him. I just remember missing him.

I think about him a lot. I’ve never brought it up in the letters because it’s such an automatic habit. He lingers in the back of my mind always. He’s by my side when I got into the Garrison. He’s in the shack when I’m looking for Blue. He’s on the other side of the mirror when I’m fighting battles. He’s waiting for me.

And then Krolia shows up and that vanishes a little bit. He still haunts me, follows me, but my world’s been tipped off of its axis. I have her now and I don’t know what to do with that.

I wish she came back when I needed her.

I still need her a little bit, in some way. I’d go mad if I was all alone on the space whale. I’d go crazy without answers—that’s the whole reason I joined the Blades, after all. But I don’t need her the way I used to.

I used to dream, you know Lance? Back when I was passed around the foster homes. I would go to sleep in my little room with fresh sheets and my hands stacked under the pillows and I’d pretend. Any moment the doorbell will ring now. Any moment. It’ll be mom. She’ll come to save me. And the foster parents will throw a fit, but they can’t do anything because she looks just like me. She’s my mother and she’s come to save me.

And dad’s gone but it’s okay, because mom’s there. Mom came . She came and we can go back to living in the little house. She’s going to ask me for my favorite color and she’s going to buy me shoes in that color. Converses maybe. She’ll drive me out to the mall with a bookstore and set me loose to read while she drinks coffee at the nearby cafe. She’ll cook for us and it won’t taste as good as dad’s food, even though he was a shit cook, but it’ll be fun. She’ll set up a soccer net in our backyard and play a few scrimmages with me before complaining the ground is too sandy for her feet. She’ll ask me to step on her back when it aches and she gets joint pain. She’s going to see what the other kids are doing on facebook and frantically enroll me in a bunch of classes just to get me an extracurricular. Taekwondo. Skateboarding. Singing. She’ll play board games with me and complain when I cheat, but she’s cheating right back.

She’s not dad, but she loves him, even when he’s dead. She’s not dad but she loves me. She loves me, she loves me, she loves me. In my dreams, she comes back for me.

So yeah. I needed her.

Right now she’s out. She’s left the cave a while ago, I don’t know for what. That’s right—we live in a cave. Don’t judge, okay? But she went out for a few vargas. She does this often, and she never comes back with anything, so it’s not like she’s finding food or water. She could be going on walks? Then again, I don’t even know if that’s a Galran activity, to just walk aimlessly for the sake of walking. I could ask her, but I haven’t.

I shouldn’t trust the fact that I’m stuck with her on this whale for who knows how long and she’s constantly disappearing. If this was any Blade member, I’d have followed them to get to the bottom of their activities. Is it different with her because she’s my mother?

I don’t find any reason not to trust her. My guard is down around her, and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m so wrung out by war and life that I don’t care anymore, or if it’s because of her .

She didn’t kill dad. She could’ve and she didn’t.

She

I

I don’t know Lance. It’s weird. That’s all I can say. Odd. I know you say family is this whole big thing and it’s great and fun, but mine is odd. Not even sad anymore. Just odd. My mom’s my colleague and my dad’s dead. Also, there’s this funny looking wolf that keeps following me around, so I should probably do something about that.

,Keith

Lance,

I get it now that you’re far away.

I dream of you the way I used to dream of stars from Earth. I’d stare up at the desert sky, wondering, imagining. You’re the same. I look out into the abyss and try to imagine your face into reality. The abyss is weird—you’d think it’s weird. Krolia says it transcends time. It shows us glimpses of the past and the future, all merged together.

The glimpses come in flashes, or sometimes like calm waves brushing against my feet. When they come, I always hope I get to see you.

I’m long past getting embarrassed by the notion—I miss you too much. It’s a desperate amount of longing. I’ll take any chance to see your face again. I see you all the time, memories of what we were and visions of what we could be. Walking to the training deck together. Lending you a hand when you’ve been injured. Laughing about a stupid alien. Pillow fights. Arguments about battle strategies. Did it all happen or will it happen? The images are all so mundane that it’s hard to tell. They’re so sweet that I can’t tell whether it’s the abyss or my own dreams.

Could the future really be so kind to us? To me?

I’m scared of what’ll happen next. The war is so large and long that I hadn’t even had the chance to think of a life outside of it. But now that I have all this time on my hands, all I can do is think. I fabricate fantasies, just like I did when I was little. I’m tucked into a makeshift sleeping bag and I’m daydreaming that Voltron will come. That you will come. That’s an unrealistic one—let me give you some better examples. Let me think. Uh, oh—here’s one.

I imagine that after the war, we’re all invited to some fancy celebration. It’s on a planet with a lot of plants (so Allura and Hunk can enjoy) and a lot of technology (so Pidge can enjoy), but it’s not Olkarion because Olkarion is too hot for my liking. Also, it doesn’t matter if Shiro likes or doesn’t like the planet, because in my dream he’s just relaxing the whole time.

But anyways, there’s lots of plants, right? So you grab my hand and tell me that you have something to show me. Then you take me to some kind of secret garden. It has hanging vines and flowers everywhere. There’s the sound of trickling water and streams everywhere. I find a little fountain and splash you from it. You grab my face with wet hands and kiss me on the mouth.

That’s all the dream is. Extreme, right?

I’m worried that I’ll dream too far and one day concoct a fantasy that the abyss will prove wrong. But what is and isn’t real blends together, so I dream on carelessly. I can’t help it. You’re just the kind of guy I can’t help but dream after.

,Keith

Lance,

Just jotting down some abyss visions so that I can properly remember them. Don’t mind me. Writing to you so that I can feel your support.

• Krolia and Texas’ wedding: They got married in the cave where I found Blue. It was just the two of them. There was no officiation. It was just them, their vows, and Blue. It’s unfathomably insane to me that I was led back to the very cave that brought my parents together
• Pidge with long hair: Well, she looks older so it has to be the future. God, it’s so weird to see her with long hair. It might be a vision from the close future—her hair could’ve grown out in the time I’ve been gone.
• Lance and Coran arm wrestling: honest to god, this could’ve happened at any time.
• Stealing Shiro’s car: I was there for this memory. Don’t need to theorize too much.
• Krolia meeting with some space pirates: What the fuck?? What the fuck?? Definitely from the past—she was a lot shorter. She was dealing them some money for information. When we came back from the vision, Krolia didn’t elaborate. She immediately went on a walk
• Doing drunk karaoke with Allura: No way this happens. The abyss is messing with me. No way we would do that.
• Going to the beach with Lance: This one might’ve been a dream, not a vision.
• Fighting Shiro: It’s hard to say what’s happening here. Shiro’s…trying to kill me? What the hell?

,Keith

Lance,

I have a dog. It’s not a dog. I have a something. You’d love him. His name is Kosmo.

,Keith

Lance,

Hi more visions:

• The six of us cooking a surprise breakfast for Hunk: this just made me hungry man what the fuck
• Me carrying Krolia through a hospital: She seems to be injured in this. I don’t know what to think about it. The vision didn’t tell me whether she ended up okay or not. Fuck.
• Me cleaning some windows: Hello?? Why am I cleaning windows? I don’t think I’ve ever wiped a window in my life (I’M NOT A MESSY PERSON, LANCE).
• Sitting next to Lance and reading: this must also be a dream. I was in bed when it came to mind.
• Me teaching Matt how to skateboard: I know how to skateboard??
• Lance teaching Krolia how to flip people off: This is so weird. 
• Some Blonde girl running through a jungle: I might’ve been behind her in the vision? She’s got long hair in a weird braid ponytail. She might be altean or human, but it’s hard to tell. I have never seen her in my life.

,Keith

Lance,

Lance. Lance I miss you. I miss them all. I miss Shiro and Pidge and Hunk and Coran and Allura. I miss Matt and even Rolo and Nyma and their weird robot. I miss Red I miss Black I miss all the Lions. I miss Kolivan I miss Regris I miss the Blades. I miss Iverson I miss Adam I miss the homes I miss my home. I miss dad.

I thought I understood being alone before. I think I did, a little bit, but it was never like this. Loneliness has come in all shapes and forms. It’s come in the form of jeers and stares from the elementary schoolers. It’s come in the form of social service workers deciding where to keep me. It’s come in loss, in leadership, in battle. But never has it ever been so, so silent.

It drives me insane, how quiet the abyss is. Quiet seems like such a trivial descriptor. Libraries are quiet. Forests are quiet. But this abyss, this nothingness—I can’t even call it anything. It’s deeply unsettling. My body, in all its animal and alien nature, can’t accept it. I’m always expecting something. Anticipating something. And nothing comes. Nothing at all.

It’s been roughly a year and a half since we’ve arrived on the space whale. Or something around that number. Voltron feels like a dream. My whole life feels like a dream. It’s hard to believe anything exists outside of this void in space. Time passes and nothing happens. Or does time pass? Surely it does. I feel my joints ache and my scars fade over and my limbs grow longer. But this all could be a product of the abyss as well—maybe I am being tossed around from past to future as well.

Selfishly, I wish you all would be here with me too. The abyss as a concept isn’t too terrible. There’s food and life and vegetation, although sparse. There’s no conflicts or wars. It is, all in all, peaceful as it is lonely.

We could all live here, all together. As a family. Coran would be great at hunting and gathering, he and Krolia can be in charge of that. Pidge and Hunk could build us a better shelter than some dingy cave. Allura could do so much quintessence research. Shiro could finally take a fucking nap. And you and I could race around all day. We could play and fight and kiss and all the good things. Wouldn’t that be so nice?

You all have turned into ghosts in my head the way my father did so long ago when he died. When I go to fill the watering can, you’re by my side, chatting the whole way to the stream. When I’m playing fetch with Kosmo, Shiro’s yelling taunts at me and encouraging Kosmo to tackle me. When Krolia and I cook, Hunk is giving us tips. When we talk about the war, Allura is sitting next to me, nursing a tension headache. Coran’s coming by to give her tea. Pidge is over somewhere blowing things up.

I love you all. I miss you all. You are my arms and legs, and I cannot be apart from you for too long.

I can’t wait to go home. I’ve had enough of this abyss and its flashes of visions. It dangles what I have and what I could have over my head like I'm a cat jumping for yarn. I’m sick of what I want always being out of reach. Whenever this long journey ends, whether it be in a year or twenty, I will make my way back home to you all. I’ll fight for it if I have to.

From, Keith

Lance,

Krolia told me not to write since I’m sick. Krolia is also out of the cave getting water, so she can suck it. Heheh.

I don’t even know why I’m writing. I don’t have anything to write. I’m just sick. My bones ache all over and my teeth keep chattering. It’s taking me eons to write a sentence. Ignore the poor handwriting. Wait—you’re never going to read this! I forgot. Whoops. Delirium, I suppose. Don’t ignore anything, then.

Did you know Krolia’s really funny?

She talks to me in english. We both understand Galran and use it for our Blade logs and updates, but our conversations or english. For me, it’s natural. It’s so I don’t forget. But for her, it’s been twenty years since she’s used the language. I think it means something to her to pick it up again. I’m honestly surprised she’s kept the language in mind even after twenty years. Just being on this whale fogs my memory of it.

But the only English she knows is English from twenty years ago. And English is English, it hasn’t changed. But slang has changed. Phrases have changed. So excuse you if I think it’s the funniest shit ever if my mother, this middle-aged Galran stealth agent, busts out the term ‘totally radical’. What the hell am I supposed to do? Not laugh?

You would’ve cracked up about it. You and Hunk. You would’ve gotten her to say it again and again, even if she glared at you all menacingly.

She does other funny stuff. We were stretching together the other day and she randomly started doing like, fifty cartwheels in a row. For back mobility. What the fuck. Fucking back mobility. And then she asked me why I didn’t know how to do a cartwheel. My bad , Krolia. She also didn’t call it a cartwheel. I don’t even know what she called it, but she asked me why I called it a cartwheel. ‘What does it have to do with carts?’ Funny as fuck.

She’s intentionally funny too. Sometimes she’ll mess with me. She’ll make up stories about Blade missions and make them more and more elaborate until I catch on that she’s lying. It’s embarrassing that I fall for it, but I don’t mind the fantasy story. At least one of us has creative fuel.

I’m glad I found her, Lance. I’m glad she’s here.

I’m glad I have a mom.

I don’t think I could tell her this, or ever have a conversation about you know, us. Even the idea of a conversation about dad weighs heavy on my mind. She’s so nice, Lance. I’m sick and she’s getting me water. I’m so happy that I have a mom to get me water when I’m sick. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I didn’t have it for a long time but I have it now and how could it not make me cry?

It’s still off-putting that she’s in my life, but I think I’ve gotten used to it.

I don’t know if I’m glad she’s here as my mom or glad she’s here as a Blade, but. I’m glad she’s here.

Eugh. Fuck, fuck. One second.

Sorry, I started sneezing and then Kosmo took that as a sign to SIT ON MY FACE. What the fuck, Kosmo? He’s sitting next to my face now. I can feel his breath against my cheek. I’m so glad I’ve lost my sense of smell. He definitely stinks.

Fuck.

Lance, did I ever tell you how much I love Kosmo?

He’s so precious. He really is precious to me. He follows me around and tries to eat his tail and sometimes follows me around to try to eat my tail and then gets confused when I don’t have one. He’s so stupid, but at the same time he’s so smart. He knows how to look for sticks to make fires with. He’s intelligent enough not to bring damp sticks and only dry sticks.

Although, maybe he brings the sticks for us to play with. Huh.

Man, I wish I could play with Kosmo right now, but I think I would fall over if I even tried to get up. That makes me so sad. Fuck. Kosmo just wants to play, doesn’t he? That’s why he’s watching me so intently? He’s wondering why I’m not getting up. Aw, man. Do you think he’s sad? Did I make my dog sad, Lance?

Okay, definitely not. He just started aggressively licking my face. It might be because he saw me crying. He definitely does not care at all.

That’s a little embarrassing. Moving on, then.

Uhhhhh

I actually don’t know what more to write.

Did you know there’s no seasons in the abyss? Sounds logical, since it’s an abyss. Still, fruits and vegetation grow. How? What’s sustaining it? There’s no sun, no rain, nothing.

The stream too, I can’t find its source of origin. I followed it once. Tried getting all the way to the mouth. It just kept going and going. Must be explained by quintessence science. I should keep a log of all my scientific findings to present to Allura. Maybe we can do some research together when I’m back. I will be back.

Okay, I can hear Krolia coming. She might think her footsteps are soft, but she can’t fool me. I’ve got to go now or else she’ll get mad at me for writing when I’m sick. Heheh. Bye Lance. Love you, Lance.

,Keith

ABYSS LOG:

• Source of light: appears to be sustained by the abyss itself. Straight ahead, in the direction we’re gravitating towards, there is a bright expanse of light. Unsure what is causing this light or how it’s sustained. It has not shifted in the slightest. It adheres to no understandable revolutions or rotations visible by the human eye.

• Source of stream: There is a stream of water flowing by the cave we live at. There are several more around. All of them flow in one continuous direction, away from the abyss. It appears to originate from the abyss itself? Wherever the light source is, the water flows away from there

• There appears to be no end to the space whale. In either direction. Despite once not being on it, and landing on a fixed point, there are no discontinuities in its existence or large fluctuations in surface. Minor ridges and valleys exist but nothing grand enough to imply the existence of a start and end

• The vegetation and life are very real. They grow and have day/night cycles of varying periods. They sleep and burrow and eat and reproduce. Seem to be living off abyss light source and water source.

• No sense of day or night or seasons. Everything is continuously flat. Leads me to wonder how plants can live like this or potentially hibernating animals. 

• Temperature reads at approximately ten degrees denka (sixty degrees fahrenheit, fifteen ish degrees celsius) at all times. Doesn’t fluctuate either. Attracts a temperate biome. Unsure what would happen if I brought a tropical species here. Would it be sustained as any other life is or would it wither away? Can it wither away? Can anything die here, or does everything exist forever?

• Death does occur, but I have never seen it occur naturally. I have hunted animals and eaten all sorts of plants.

QUESTIONS:

• Where did other life forms here come from? Were they brought here?

• Does natural death exist here?

• Is the “space whale” alive or is it simple a biome as artificial as the resource it provides

• If there is other life here, why isn’t there evidence of life that has externally arrived? Such as any ships? Our ships our here still

• Adding to the two questions above, is the life on the whale sustained by the whale, or actually parts of the whale? Is it existing or is it part of the setting around me?

THINGS I LOVE ABOUT LANCE MCCLAIN:

• Him, naturally so. I love him.
• He’s got this dimple by the lower left side of his mouth. It’s so cute. I want to poke it all the time. Doing so would definitely startle him. He’d say something like, “Keith, what the fuck? Don’t touch me with your gross hands!”
• He speaks a lot, but he’s not always loud. Loud noises, even when it’s just conversation, sometimes hurts my head. Lance chatters on and on—I love that in itself, but it’s always at a tone that doesn’t hurt my head. He doesn’t even do it out of any kindness, he’s just like that. He’s so conveniently loveable. Only sometimes. Other times the love is a fight, but it’s a good fight all the same.
• His reliability. I know I can always rely on him in any situation, even a situation he can’t fix. I’ll know he’ll always have my back, or try to have my back, even if he complains the whole time. He’ll never let me die at war. If I get off this damn whale, I know he’ll take me home. I’ll never die in battle if he’s by my side. And I won’t let him either.
• This is a weird one, but how quickly he can get annoyed. It’s so funny that it’s endearing (at least when it’s not directed at me). I love when someone does something that pisses him off and he goes on a one hour rant about them. He’s so passionate and he’s so creative with his insults. He expresses disdain in ways I didn’t know were even possible.
• He can lift the mood of the room effortlessly, but more than that, I love his desire to lift the mood of a room. He’ll see people who are hurt and people who need a hand and it’ll be completely instinctive of him to reach out.
• He’s so good. I can’t even say he’s effortlessly good—Lance is always trying at everything he does. He tries and tries and tries, and everyday proves that he’s good.
• I love the way his smile stretches across his face. The way the ends of his lips pinch and his teeth show. The way his eyes crinkle and his eyebrows tilt.
• He’s so pretty it’s crazy. How could anyone think otherwise? I’ve always known this since we’ve come to space. It’s hard not to notice the way someone looks when they’re constantly shoving themself in your face. But now I think about it so much it drives me mad.
• He’s so sweet. He like, he holds doors for people and carries things for them. This is completely normal behavior but ugh. What the hell. What a sweetheart.
• I love and miss his voice so much. So fucking much. It’s faded in my head, a little bit. I imagine him speaking, but it's really just my voice speaking in his tone. It’s not the same thing. He’s so vibrant when he speaks. You don’t even have to look at him to understand the expression in his tone. He was made to sing and tell stories. I love him.
• I love when he assigns us all dumb roles. He calls himself the “resident sharpshooter” and he calls me “samurai”. Samurai? Come on, man. I’m not even Japanese. I get that it’s a sword thing but like. Dunno. It’s so dumb but I love it when he calls me that.
• He’s not a messy person. He’s tidy with his things, his laundry, his dishes. The castle is big but we still all live together. Lived together. At the end of the day, we were sort of sophisticated roommates. Lance always folds his clothes and doesn’t leave his shit around. He’s so easy to live with.
• He’s so photogenic. I guess this goes hand in hand with the pretty one. But like, seriously, I’ve never come across a bad picture of him. I’m sure Pidge owns a few terrible photos, but she has weird technology that gives her an upper hand. She knows how to catch people off guard. And even then, the “bad pictures” she has are probably not even bad. Maybe Lance might find them bad. He’s always stressing about angles and what not. I stress a bit about it too—after all, our photos are broadcasted to a good portion of the universe. I want to look good to the people we have to save. But Lance doesn’t even have to try. It’s unfair enough to piss me off—well, it used to piss me off after being told to “smile nicely” enough times. What the hell is a nice smile? I’m just smiling? I digress.
• He smells good. Uh, this one’s kind of weird of me. Circling back to it later.
• Lance sneezes so funny it’s endearing. The sneeze itself isn’t cute or anything—he doesn’t do one of those “weird kitten sneezes”—that would be disturbing to hear. But he fully hunches over and bends in half with the force of his sneezes. Hello?? How are you sneezing so hard you fold in half? Where is all this lung power coming from? It’s so funny it makes me miss him
• His stupid jokes. They’re actually so dumb. He thinks I’m too obtuse to understand them or that the joke goes over my head. Well, hate to break it to you Lance—I do get your jokes, they’re just not funny. They’re actually so unfunny that that ends up being funny, so I suppose you’re succeeding? Not that you know it. And you’ll never know it, because I’ll never tell you.
• I love your eyes. Did I tell you that already? Have I ever told you that? They’re pretty, but they’re so expressive too. Looking at you, I can finally understand why people say things like ‘their eyes sparkled with joy’. I used to think, well how can eyes sparkle? That's not a proper anatomical function. I get it now. I get it.
• You fidget a lot. A crazy amount. You’ll fidget with anything and everything. It’s a little insane actually. I’ve looked over in meetings and you have the oddest shit in your hands. It ranges from a hair-tie to your bayard to a glass of water to…castleship parts? Where the fuck did you even get that? Who knows. It’s so sweet but it’s also funny, because I don’t think you even NOTICE the things in your hand half the time. I used to brainstorm potential comically large items to hand you during meetings for you to fidget with. I wanted to see when you’d catch on. I guess I can still do this when I come back.
• This one is a little niche, but you move so fluidly. It’s as if you’re water yourself. Makes sense, since you are the blue paladin, and blue’s thing is like, water. But that logic doesn’t exactly hold, does it? Because I’m the Red Paladin of…fire, and how the hell do I move like fire? And how would Pidge move like a plant? Pidge hardly MOVES. She’s just glued to her computer. But the way you walk, fight, run, sit, everything. All your movements flow so well together.
• You dress well. Sort of? We don’t have the biggest variety of clothes, and most of the Paladin provided clothes are color coded uniform sets, which means I own the same exact clothes as you except it’s in Red. I guess you look good in anything you wear
• Your voice. It’s beautiful. Wait, did I write this already? I don’t think so. Well it’s nice. You should sing more.
• I love when you give me hugs. We don’t hug much. I think we’ve hugged once, this one time after a tough battle. You and I pulled off some crazy stunt and to this day, I have no clue how we survived that. Actually I do. It’s because of our skill as pilots, of course. Because you’re a good pilot. But we hugged so tight that day. I can still remember the pressure of your arms wound around my back. Other than that, you’ve given me side-hugs and encouraging pats on the back. Those can’t count as hugs compared to our actual hug, but they’re nice nevertheless. I love it when you touch me.
• Okay that was weird. Nevermind.
• I’m running out of space to write. I got to go.
• Love you, Lance

UPDATE: we found a girl

Lance, she’s

PILOT-VIDEO-LOG FLIGHT672 DEUNTERRA-MODEL-Y

Report from Keith Kogane, former Red and Black Paladin of Voltron, member of the Blade of Marmora. We found an Altean girl. Appears to be a young adult. Blonde hair. Pale skin. Blue Altean markings. Cooperative.

She claims that there is a whole Altean civilization where she’s from. Hundreds of Alteans all living together. All under the unitary rule of Lotor.

That bitch . Sorry, moving on. It is located on the other side of the abyss, however that works. He’s been self-pronounced as their god and they seem to believe him. Brainwashing. He’s been conducting experiments on them, Lance. Sorry. Habit. Fuck, how do I rerecord this?

Um, so that’s awkward. Moving on. I—sorry, I haven’t spoken to another person except for Krolia in the past two years. And Romelle. That’s the Altean girl’s name.

She’s very brave. Allura would like her. She’s got a young fierceness in her eyes that’s so replicant in all of us. Looking at her was like breathing fresh air after so long. Everything became so stagnant and dull on the space whale. Looking at her really reminds me why I fight.

I wonder what you all have been up to. It’s been so long. Two whole years. You all must’ve grown so well. Jesus, is Pidge tall now? She better not be. Lance, you better not have grown. I mean, Lance better not have grown. Ahah. Ahaha.

I’m a little nervous to think about it. There’s a—okay, one sec.

There’s a churning feeling in my gut that’s telling me something has happened to you all. I don’t want to think about it. Saying it makes me sick. I feel repulsed when I speak these words. I can’t have anything happen to you all.

But then again, it’s been two years of war . I have been sitting around in the silence of the abyss but you all have been fighting everyday. Are you safe? Are you hurt? You have to be. Safe! Not hurt. Don’t be hurt.

I wonder if you all ever think of me. I’m sure you must. I was Voltron at one point. A part of it. I was your arm, and then your body. I mattered a bit, and I’m sure I still do.

Do I come up in conversation? Do you ask about me in meetings with the Blades? That would be a little unprofessional, but I wouldn’t put it past you all. I know how fiery and demanding you all get when there’s something you want.

I feel a little bad for making you guys worry about me. I mean, you must’ve, right? I know Shiro has. God, that’s terrible. What if he thinks I got kidnapped? You guys must think I’ve died on a mission. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m—

Okay, back again. Here’s Romelle. I brought her with me. Romelle, look into the camera.

No—I, eugh. Come closer, the microphone can’t pick up on your voice. This ship sucks. Yeah—I know this was the only ship you can find with your hard work, thanks very much, I—

Hellooooooooooo!!!

Thanks Romelle. Okay now go away. Away! No—SHUT THE DOOR!

Sorry about that. I lied when I said she’s cooperative. She’s terrible. I think Krolia is always two seconds away from murdering her at all times. She’s constantly touching gadgets and tools she should not be touching, and she pokes her head into conversations that are NONE OF HER BUSINESS.

She’s kind of funny.

I can’t wait till Allura meets her. This is so groundbreaking. It’s terribly sad, but it’s so crucial to her. This log is mainly for Allura. For her to know that there are Alteans out there. Should anything happen to me, Allura—Allura, you can save them. Allura, you can get your people back. It’s not all lost. It might not be what you know and your only connection might be your species, but you can make it work. I know you can. You got this. You all do.

Fuck. I miss you all so much. I can’t wait to be back. Back home, on the Castleship. I miss eating in the kitchen. Sleeping in my little twin-sized bet. Looking at blueprints on the large monitor in the control room. Being in the Lions hangar. Training in the training deck. Running down the halls. I miss all of you.

I’ve been too far from home for too long.

It pains me a bit to say it, but there’s a chance I might not make it back. Everything is so tentative and our plans are full of holes. I’d like a chance to be able to see all of you before I might die, but even that’s wishful thinking. I don’t want to die at all, and believe me, I’m trying my hardest not to. But it’s better to be pessimistic than to be let down.

So here’s in case I die.

All the data we’ve stolen from Lotor’s colony resides on a flash drive located in the glove compartment of the ship dashboard. Old school, I know. In case it self-destructs or gets stolen or Kosmo, dunno, eats it—oh yeah, I have a dog named Kosmo now. He’s asleep. Well in case it…does any of that, the whole ship is encrypted with signals and codes that Pidge should be able to decrypt to artificially reconstruct it. The ship will emit radio waves well after any destruction and I’m sure you’ll make your way over to this quadrant soon enough, so I’m not worried about you finding it. You guys are smart. Capable. Have always been. All of you.

Fuck, now I have to say sentimental things. God, this is going to be embarrassing if I live. And I do want to live, thank you very much, so I’m practically fighting to embarrass myself.

Shiro, I—

I’m so glad I found you. All three times that I did. The first, when we met, the second, when you crashed in the Sonoran Desert, and the third, when Black found you. Shiro, I will find you every chance that I can get. You will never have to worry about wandering the universe lost and alone. Your little brother will always search for you.

Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I was dragged across the rocks for so long until you came and picked me up. I will never forget how you showed me the skies. I won’t forget how you sat me down and worked me through my math homework or how you argued with your superiors just to keep me in my classes. Look how far we’ve come, Shiro. We’re saving the universe.

Allura, I followed you into war and I’d do it again. I have never met someone who works so much. It’s actually insane. When you win this war, and you will win this war, I demand that the first thing you do is take a break. Do you know what that word even means? Break? That’s not a literal question. But Allura, you truly are incredible. And not because you’re a princess or because you’re altean or the power you wield, but because you care. You care so fucking much. You care and it hurts you and you still shoulder on. War and power have hardly made you apathetic. Every place we go, every treaty we make and civilization we save, you see them with your whole heart. I’ll always follow a leader like that.

Thank you for seeing me as who I am. Thank you for your trust. I hope I have not let you down.

Hunk, you truly are a friend. It has always been reassuring to fight with you at my back. I know that when you fight alongside me, things won’t go wrong. You won’t let it happen. And maybe these sound like daunting words or a responsibility I’ve placed upon you, but it’s hardly that way. You—you get scared and anxious and jittery but you gotta know that despite all that, you’re the most stable of all of us. You keep us secure.

Lance. I—

Lance, I love you.

I—gimme a sec.

Hahah, Keith went to the bathroom! He’s probably pacing laps or something. That’s what he usually does. But the bathroom is kind of small, so he might be standing there? Anyways, I’m Romelle.

Keith doesn’t know I’m in his room. Evidently. He thought I left earlier, but I was actually listening in. In secret! AHAHAH! He’ll never know. Or he might, because he’s a spy. But he can’t kill me because apparently I’m too important. Heheh.

Uh, I don’t really know why I’m crashing his recording. I don’t have much to say—I don’t even know you all. Keith introduced you as Voltron and some important people and—what?? I guess you don’t have names.

I know one of you is Altean.

I don’t know how—I or—why? Well not why, the why is obvious, it’s because your parents were Altean…and then they…made you…

How is the real question. Questions. There’s lots of those. I don’t—

Shit, he’s coming back. Bye!

Hi guys, I’m back, I—

Romelle was here, wasn’t she?

I should delete this recording just to spite her. But I won’t, because I can’t stand recording all that mushy stuff all over again. This log is getting too long anyways. Where was I? I did Shiro, Allura, Hunk, so that means I’m at La—

Uh, moving on.

Pidge, has anyone told you that you’re actually insane? Probably. I’m telling you anyway. Hear it again. Sucks to suck. Or not, because you’re actually the most brilliant person ever. For someone so short, I really do look up to you. Your innovation is astounding. Even regarding topics that aren’t so tech-y, you come up with ideas and solutions I wouldn’t have ever thought of. Pidge, as evil as you are, I think you could solve world peace if everyone gave you free reign. You would be able to fix anything and everything.

Thanks for being my friend, Pidge. Thanks for talking to me towards the beginning of Voltron, when I wasn’t that good at talking to anyone. You were my first friend on the team.

Coran, your stories are ridiculous. In a good way. They never make sense to me, but—that’s also in a good way? Never stop talking. Never stop doing. You’re so full of life. I think you bring the soul to the team. We would all be worn down and dead men walking without you. Thank you for never judging me.

Krolia…

Well, you’re—she’s not part of the team. But I want to tell her something in case something happens to me.

Krolia, you are my mom and you are my comrade, and I don’t know which you are more of. I don’t know how to see you. But these two years we’ve spent together, they mean something. And this—whatever we are, it’s something . I can’t—you’re not trivial.

So uh, that’s pretty much it. I don’t have much more to say? I hope I get to see you all soon. Take care of my dog if I don’t come back. Take care of Romelle and my mom.

I love you all.

END LOG

Chapter Text

E-LOG #010

Shiro was

Shiro

Dear Lance,

So, this is awkward.

First of all, fuck you for going through my logs. Not really. But still, ever heard of privacy? Let a guy have his journals. Or letters. Um.

Fuck, that’s so embarrassing. I don’t care that much because there’s other, more pertinent things to concern myself with, but now that I’m properly seated and writing again after so long, I’m fully facing the brunt of my embarrassment. It’s just so UGH. Why did you have to find my datapad? Why were you in my room anyways?

I’m

It’s good to be

We

Fuck. It was so much easier to write this stuff before, back when I was on that weird whale and there was no one around me except for Krolia and Kosmo. Now that I’m back, it’s all awkward again. It’s real and truly physically my life and my existence, not just some dream the abyss conjured up for me to long after. I’m not playing pretend anymore. I’m back, really back with everyone.

I kind of feel whole again.

There’s a lot more people on board now. There’s our regular team of seven, and then there’s Matt and Romelle and Krolia and Kosmo—Kosmo can definitely count for three, fully grown humans. I expected it to feel crowded, especially with the extra crowds that come and go: blade members, allies, coalition representatives, and Pidge’s weird sentient-looking robots. Oddly enough, it’s comforting.

It’s so funny. I was just remembering the conversation we had so long ago. Well, it was only a little long ago for you. For me, it was over two years ago.

But it was when you came to my room talking about Voltron having one too many Paladins. One too many hands on deck. It’s so funny, because now we have the same, extra amount of Paladins and far more folks on board and it doesn’t feel like enough. There’s constant work for all of us to do. Not a single crew member dallies about.

What I’m trying to say Lance, and what I should’ve said before, is that there is, and has always been more than enough room for you. And even if you feel cramped and uncomfortable, I will always try my best to make room for you.

Not that you need my efforts anymore. Not really.

You’ve grown so much in the past “two months”. It makes me wonder which one of us spent two years away. Me, or you? Have you changed that much in such a short amount of time, or have I changed so much that I see you differently?

I guess I do see you differently than I did in the very start. But Lance, you have to know that I have always found gold in the work you do, in the way you move, and in the way that you are. Your value has appeared to me in different ways over the times, but I still see you as such. As valuable.

You’re a little taller, but not too much, and certainly not taller than me. I can imagine you moping in your room about it. Or at least, that’s something you used to do.

You have broader shoulders now. A little more muscle. It’s admirable and it’s also. Um, yeah.

I came across you in the training room the other day. I wanted to go fight to relieve some tension, but you were there. You were wielding a sword. A sword? A fucking sword. Holy shit Lance, since when could you do that? There’s no way you’d have that skill when I was around and not use it. There’s no way you wouldn’t try to best me at sword fighting at every given moment.

But you fight with a sword too, now. That’s new.

What’s even more new is how quiet you are about it. Back when we used to have team training, you’d yell and holler about every bullseye you shot. And Lance, you shot a lot of bullseyes.

Now I don’t hear a word about it. Not about your shooting and not about your sword fighting. Not from you and not from others.

I suppose it makes sense given we don’t have team training anymore. Everyone’s so immersed in work and battle that work and battle has become our training. It’s become our own responsibility to hone our skills in our own time.

But really? Not one boast? Not one attempt to show off?

I guess you’ve gotten busy.

You’ve gotten quiet in other ways as well.

You make less pick up lines and meaningless remarks and dumb jokes. It’s uh, weird. It’s contrasting enough that there are often times that I see the perfect setup for a cheesy jest and look to you to execute it. But you remain silent, tight-lipped. It’s trippy. I’ve thought of you enough that I’ve adopted your cringe humor and anticipate it.

Or maybe the fantasy Lance in my head is funnier than you really are. But there’s no way. That’s not possible. You have always been the funniest.

It makes me a little sad, to be honest. What has happened in the past two months? It’s just two months—it’s incomparable to two years, but somehow you’ve changed more than I have.

Has war really done that to you?

I want to hold you, just a little bit. I want to wrap you in blankets and feed you warm meals (Hunk will cook the meals, or else I might give you food poisoning). I want to kiss your forehead and stroke your hair and shield your eyes. Your eyes are meant to look at sunsets on the ocean, not through the scope of a gun.

But it doesn’t work like that. I know it doesn’t.

I have this fantasy—don’t I always? I’m always daydreaming about something. I used to dream about reunions and side by side battles and days after the war, but coming back has me imagining, what if the war hadn’t existed at all? What if I met you all under different circumstances? Could we be family then too, or is war the only thing holding us together?

I’m a bit of a romantic. I think the five of us, the seven of us, the however many of us, we’d always find each other no matter what. It’s nicer to imagine that way because it makes me happier. It’s my own play-pretend, I can make it go however I want.

I’d like to imagine we all met at college. Sure—the Garrison can count as a “college”, but I fucking hate that place. So we’d meet at a college that isn’t the Garrison.

It’s hard to draft how we’d come across each other. I’m always stuck in my head—truly a bad habit—and you’re always fluttering around. My best bet is that Shiro can be friends with Matt and you’ll be friends with Pidge and Hunk, and that’s how we can all meet. We’ll come across Allura and Coran the same way we did in this universe: by chance, by fate. I’d like to think that we’d be drawn towards them the way the lions naturally dragged us to Arus.

In this universe, everything about us stays the same, even though there’s no war. That makes no sense since the war has shaped us so definitely, but I want us to joke and cope and exist the way we do now. There’s a comfort in imagining it in a scenario where our lives aren’t in danger.

What’s best about this fantasy is that we’re all safe. You guys are all safe.

You’re not immortal or invincible, but you’re not fighting for your life. In that universe, one day you’ll die, maybe from cancer or a car crash or hell, falling down the stairs, but at least it won’t be with a gun in your hands. At least you won’t die as a soldier. None of you would.

You all might argue that there’s value in laying down your life the way we might, the way we most likely will. I know you, Lance, would argue that. I know you’d want to be equally as useful in death, if not even more.

There’s some value. I know there’s value—I used to romanticize going out in a blast all the time. Giving it my all, because even if my life is miserable and shitty and capable of going to waste, at least my death can be meaningful.

But I just—I can’t let you all go. Not like that. You need to witness a good life before you go. You can’t—maybe fighting is the best way to go, but I can’t let your life end on a battlefield. We’re adults, we’ve lived a good amount, but it’s just not enough.

Lance. Pidge. Hunk. Shiro. Allura. Coran. Krolia. Romelle. Matt. I want to show you all a life that isn’t war. I want you to die with an easy conscience. I want you to die surrounded by love, not alongside pain and suffering and blood and death. Your last words should never be uttered on a battlefield.

I suppose I should tell you all this. And I did, to an extent.

It’s just…

No one saw my tape.

The recording in our ship has yet to be uncovered. There was hardly any time for anything when we landed, no reunions or heartfelt welcomes. Lotor had struck immediately and then there was the

There was my fight

We didn’t have time for logs and recaps. Everything that had to be done had to be executed right then and there. And ever since then, we’ve all caught up to the same page, so there’s no need for that dumb, old recording I made.

I’m glad. It saves me the embarrassment. But the more I think about it, the more I wish I was embarrassed and in your arms than whatever weird colleague treatment we have going on.

I miss talking to you. I know we’re busy, but I want to talk to you like we used to. I want you in all ways, even in silence, as long as we’re alongside each other. I can’t let our paths diverge like it’s done before. We’ve collided and drifted apart too many times. This time when we intersect, I’ll make sure to hold your hand and never let go.

Or uh. I’ll try to. I’m not sure if I have the guts to hold your hand. The thought of it makes me queasy. Not like you’re gross. I just. It’s more difficult than I thought it’d be. It turns out that when you’re in an abyss that melds your past and future together, you become delirious enough to assume you have the balls to hold your crush’s hand.

Fuck. I hate saying that word. Crush. Who the fuck came up with that? It’s absolute bullshit. All of this is absolute bullshit. I’m going to write about something else.

I see Allura a lot more now.

We’ve been meeting to brief each other on our knowledge and theories of the quantum abyss and the Altean colonies to present ideas for meetings. All we talk about is work, but it’s not stiff. It’s…how do I say it?

Allura’s so tired. She’s so, so visibly tired. I can tell from one look that she’s drained—anyone can. I think there’s a certain relaxation in our little discussions. We’re both workaholics and we’re both so exhausted that there’s something soothing about our half-hearted midnight attempts at formulating plans. It’s like we’re leaning on each other.

It’s easier than I thought it’d be.

When I came back from the quantum abyss, talking to Allura felt so comfortable and natural that I could believe it was always that way. But it wasn’t—I know it wasn’t. We all know it wasn’t.

I guess it’s a testament to how far we’ve all come.

I’m worried for her, though. I know you are too.

I want to take care of her too. I want to tuck her into bed and wish her sweet dreams…like I’m her mom, or something. God, she’d find that absurd.

I haven’t seen Pidge and Hunk much either. They hardly come to meetings unless it has a Voltron related plan or their lion is needed. Hunk comes more than Pidge, but a lot of the time it’s a no show: they just get briefed later.

They’re always working on some project. We have a new device or gadget coming out for use each week; it’s absolutely insane. They must be at their wits end. I worry for them too.

I’d worry about them less if I saw them more.

I see Shiro the

My typical day, if we’re not launching any strikes, involves planning. Planning from morning till night, getting our hands on different intel and blueprints. Just so much planning—my mind might burst. I always have a headache.

I don’t even know how I found the time to write this. I’m—I’m actually hiding right now. I’m in a closet. It’s stupid, I know. I have my own room. I guess I wanted to escape it for a little bit. Like I’m a kid again.

I know I’m not.

,Keith

E-LOG #011

At the facility, Shiro and I

We

Lance,

We shared a meal together today, for the first time in two years.

Probably even more. How often was I eating with you all when I took blade missions? Hardly.

I don’t know what meal it was. What do you call food eaten in the middle of the night? I’d say it’d be four in the morning, Earth time. There are some freaks who eat breakfast at that time. They wake up and run laps and do yoga and eat so early.

I can’t be one to talk.

I didn’t even notice you come into the kitchen. It’s usually empty throughout the day—usually only one or two people there at a time. No one eats together or at the dining table anymore; we all take our meals to go. There’s nowhere much to go at four am, so I took a little bit longer than usual when heating up my food rations.

I guess I’m tired, or not as alert as usual, because I barely registered your presence until you were right behind me.

You physically bumped into me. Like some fucking floating rock with no sense of friction or mind or external forces. Did you even notice I was there? I’m not even sure. You’re so odd, Lance.

You ran straight into my shoulder and stayed there, with your head resting against me. You were like that for a while. I didn’t question it—I didn’t even have the mind to question it. I continued stirring my food in silence.

At one point you started talking. You asked me why I still ate that food goo crap when we had such nice alternatives stocked up.

You didn’t even lift your head to speak. I could feel your lips moving through the fabric of my shirt. It’s such an odd feeling, but it’s so nice.

Talking to you, hearing your voice, it was like—

I felt rested for the first time in a long while. I felt like I had drifted off into a wonderfully nice slumber. Maybe it’s because I dream of you so often that when you come to me as you are, with no walls up, with no one else around, I feel at ease.

I wouldn’t have minded staying like that forever. I wouldn’t have minded if this was our quantum abyss, if the universe moved on and we stayed in this moment eternally. You with your dumb quips, leaning against me with your flushed skin providing me warmth and a bowl of food in my hands.

I don’t even know what I said back to you. It must’ve been something dumb—I’m always a little dumb around you. You make me that way. But truthfully, I didn’t care. I don’t care.

How nice is it, not to care? To do something and not have the scales of the universe threaten to tip over at the slightest pressure? That’s how I feel when I’m with you. It sounds mean to say that I don’t care about what I say to you, or around you, but it’s true. Or half true. I think I care, but I don’t—I don’t need to worry , Lance. I don’t need to brace for impact. I don’t feel like the things I do will rip you away from me. You—I know you’re here to stay. I can say whatever and you’ll still stay. I won’t say whatever—I won’t say mean things like I used to—but it’s nice to know that’d you’d still be here, like you always are.

Now, if only I could say my feelings to you. Ha! What a funny joke. Hahaha!

That’s the one thing that scares me.

I’m actually scared of many things. Tight spaces—take the healing pod for example. Food that’s alive. People’s perception of me. Dying—yes actually, I’m scared of dying. The more and more I escape death by a hair’s breadth, the more my heart races.

Oh, and also I’m scared of confessing to you.

It’s roughly around the same level of fear, between confessing and death (THIS IS A JOKE. LANCE, I JOKE).

I know I can tell you anything. I know you won’t shy away from me. I know that even if you don’t feel the same way back, you’ll remain an unwavering pillar of support in both our work and for me. And you’d let me do the same back for you, be there for you the same way too.

It’s just…

I don’t—

I can’t mess it up.

There. That’s the dumb fear. I can’t just—

‘ Hey Lance, I have feelings for you .’

Okay, so that gets the point across, but ‘ have feelings for you ’?? That is the DUMBEST sounding confession ever. Am I in fifth grade? Scratch that—I would not be saying shit like that in fifth grade. I would rather eat dirt. I think I did eat dirt at one point, when I was a kid. Uh, I digress…

There’s also no way I’m using the word ‘ crush’ while confessing to you. Absolutely not. That’s even worse. God, thinking about that word makes me cringe. Who made that word? I feel like I’ve complained about this before in a different journal entry.

Sure, I could make it more descriptive. ‘ Lance I have romantic feelings for you’. Still sounds dumb. I could be eloquent. ‘ Lance, I utterly adore and devote my life to you.’ Who am I, Jane Austen? I could be direct. Straightforward. ‘ Lance, I love you .” That’s too blunt.

Besides, you know I love you. I’ve loved you since the second the Blue lion left the Earth’s atmosphere, since the G-force made my head and heart rattle and everything kept going faster and faster, since we first formed Voltron.

But that’s. That’s normal love (as opposed to abnormal love??). Ugh. I don’t know what I’m saying. This is so ridiculous.

I have about ten strategic blueprints to draft and I’m here trying to produce a ten step operation on how to confessing my feelings to you. I don’t even want to talk about work. Moving on.

So, words are out of the question. I can try other things. I could ask you out on a date. That gets the point across and it’s smooth and charming and whatnot. But the problem is—

When the fuck are we going to go on a date?

‘ Lance! Would you like to accompany me to kill sentries?’

‘Lance, why don’t we review these diplomatic treaties together?’

Oh my god. I think I’d rather ask you to shoot me.

We don’t have time for this. Our most romantic interaction after I came back from the abyss was when we were in the kitchen together late at night. Our second most romantic interaction was probably, I don’t know, handing out rations together. And we didn’t even talk while doing that!

I can’t ask you out on a date and not follow through with it. I can’t be a let down.

Then again, what about war isn’t a let down?

There’s also another option: rather than asking you out on a date, I could ask you out all together. To be my boyfriend.

Boyfriend sounds like such a trivial term. The same way ‘crush’ does, except crush sounds dumb too.

I’ve seen you on what could’ve been your deathbed, Lance. You’ve lent me countless last words, last promises, on the chance that you might be gone. I’ve sewn stitches into your body and muttered prayers to gods I don’t even believe exist to save your life. I’ve seen the end of the path grow vivid before you come like a lifeline to hold onto. To hold your hand is to be tethered to life. To be by your side is to live and fight.

I guess you could be my boyfriend though. I wouldn’t be opposed to it. But you’d always be more. You’d always, always mean more to me than that.

I love you Lance. It’s such an all encompassing thing. There’s no way for me to fully summarize it or show an act of grandeur that displays my affection for all that it is. It’s like trying to cup all of the ocean’s water with two hands. What I show you, what I tell you—it doesn’t hold a candle to the depth of my emotions.

Wait a second.

These are some pretty good lines. Let me flag this entry to come back to when I start drafting my confession to you. Whenever that’ll be. Who knows?

Love, Keith

E-LOG #012

We lost the castle of lions.

Lance,

So…not the first time I’ve been homeless!

I didn’t miss the feeling. Most certainly not.

Sorry. This is a poor joke. Logging off.

Love, Keith

Lance,

Soon enough I’ll bribe Pidge to cut out your microphone everytime your voice ranges across more than one octave. Sweetheart, I love your singing, but I do not need fucking backstreet boys in my ears when I’m trying to sleep. The cot in Black is small, weird, and stiff (how did Zarkon ever fit here?) and somehow Kaltenecker ended up on my ship instead of Kosmo. How the fuck did we confuse those animals?

On top of all this, you keep singing . I can’t stand it. I’m at my wits end, Lance! I want to sleep!

Oh great. Kaltenecker is moo-ing now. What the fuck does that mean? What does she want? Hay? Grass?

Now that I think about it, what did they feed her in that space mall?

I can’t wait until we land again. In a week. Kill me now, please.

Love, Keith

Lance,

Shiro and I are in Black together. It’s

We’re

Okay. Okay.

I haven’t talked to him since, you know. Since he wasn’t himself.

Truth be told, I don’t even know how to talk to him. It always boils down to the same issue again and again, doesn’t it? I never know what to say or do.

He’s asleep now. I’m watching him from my own cot across the room. He’s breathing deeply and evenly. Occasionally he’ll twitch and roll over. It makes me glad. I’m glad he’s sleeping. I’m glad he’s not like me.

I don’t know if he remembers anything about our

I think the whole…you know…I think it messed with his memory a little bit. Shiro appears to have brain fog in general. He forgets certain conversations and dishes out the same instructions several times without remembering that he’s already told them to us. He misplaces things frequently and keeps his side of the room more messy than usual.

It’s worrisome. Then again, what the fuck isn’t?

I don’t—

He needs to catch a break. I’m glad he’s sleeping.

I hope he doesn’t get nightmares. I know Shiro does in general. Or Shiro did . But he’s changed now. He’s different. He’s not—he’s not that, you know. He’s not him. But he’s been recycled again and again, processed and replaced and turned inside out. What’s that philosophical saying again? If you replace enough parts of a ship, is it still the same ship?

I can’t say Shiro is the same Shiro I knew, but he’s not a different Shiro.

Last time I tried so hard to believe he was back because I was naive and tired. Due to my foolishness, he suffered even more. If I had just searched longer—

He’s back. We brought him back for good. He’s back and he’s sleeping and he’s well, I don’t know how he is. I haven’t asked. I—should I ask? What do you think, Lance? It makes sense to do so, to go up and talk to him and help him out. I am his little brother after all.

But I failed him.

I’d like to think that for a long time, I’ve been a part of Shiro’s heart. But he’s been crushed and fractured and resealed back together again and again and—have I been erased in the process? I’m just a tiny glimmer of brotherhood amongst a sea of turmoil; I can hardly stand out. I’m worried that after all this time, I’ve been washed away.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he held some resentment towards me. Shiro’s not a resentful person, but a part of the fault of all his horrors lies on my shoulders. I could’ve stopped it. If I had tried just a bit harder, looked for a little longer, things could’ve been different.

You’d be mad at me for thinking this way.

You used to get mad at me all the time before, remember? Back when I first became the Black Paladin? Every time I’d rant to you about some let down, some dead end, you’d narrow your eyes and poke your finger at my chest and tell me not to piss you off with ‘ that slanderous, self-deprecating bullshit’. Is slanderous even a word? I’d look it up, but I can’t.

I wish you were here to yell at me now. Surprisingly, I think it’d help. But we’re flying different lions. Also, this would require me talking about, you know. About that . I can’t talk about it Lance. Sorry. I know you’ve all been wondering what happened, how I got my scar, and all that stuff.

I’ll tell you one day. I promise I’m not trying to be difficult by keeping it from you all. I just can’t talk about it.

Goodnight.

Love, Keith

E-LOG #013

I talked to Shiro.

Okay, okay.

Everything is okay.

Lance,

Oh my god.

Lance, what the fuck.

Oh my god. You’ll never guess what happened.

Actually, you could. Probably because this entry is about you and your…odd and weird antics.

We were set to cruise towards our next rest stop when we were surrounded by a swarm of Galran ships. We had been completely caught off guard—they didn’t show up on our radar at all. They were roaming about in scrappy, second-rate fighter jets. I doubt it was for any kind of stealth; they must’ve been lost and wandering after the fracture of power in the Empire.

We were all pretty tired—too tired to fight. But guess what they wanted to do?

Fight.

It seems that even when Galran soldiers are fired and off the payroll, they’re still intent on making everyone’s life miserable because they have no lives. Seriously, get a fucking hobby.

It was a rough fight because of how surprised we were. The power difference between the Lions and their jets is laughable, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t get a few shots in. They started firing at us almost immediately after the initial encounter.

Black took the most hits. Embarrassing, I know. I’m rusty. We were all fine inside. In fact, Kosmo seemed to be having a blast. Everytime Black got jostled and flipped around, Kosmo started barking and yipping around in delight. What a weird dog.

The fight was short, as well as our descent to the nearest planet.

We set up camp in a fairly uninhabited canyon, and then you—

Well, I walked out of my Lion and the first thing that happens to me before I can even see the light of day is: I get tackled.

I’m falling backwards and then I’m not. There’s arms around me and a mop of hair buried into the crook of my neck and it’s you. You’re hugging me. Or practicing football tackles. One of the two.

Obviously, I stand there like an idiot.

What did you expect? I already told you my dilemmas before. Go back to every other letter for reference.

You start gushing about being worried and how I’m dumb and blind and you ask if I’m sleeping enough (probably not) and then you check my forehead for a fever (?? Lance I was wearing a helmet. Are you sure YOU didn’t have a fever?). Honestly, I didn’t process any of it. All I could think of was your arms wrapped around me.

You took my unresponsiveness as a sign that we needed to go back inside, so you started guiding me back up the ramp into Black. I actually wanted to stretch my legs properly, but your hands were still on me so I was fine with doing whatever you wanted me to.

GOD. I’M SUCH A FUCKING LOSER. Anyways.

We get inside Black and you sit me down on the bed. You’re talking a mile a minute and I hardly catch any of it. Maybe I did have a fever. Huh.

You take off my helmet, which—why is that so hot? Moving on. Then your hands are on my head, on my hair. Have we ever been this close before? So intimate before? Every time your hands are on me, it’s when I’m on the brink of death. But now you card your hands through my hair and there are no wounds in my body but I am breathless nevertheless.

I ask you what you’re doing. You tell me to mind my own business. Jerk. I see how it is.

I could hear everyone outside. It sounded like Allura and Hunk were running laps around the lions to get feeling back into their legs. Pidge was definitely sprawled out across the dirt floor; I didn’t need to see her to know that. Shiro, Coran, Romelle, and Krolia were setting up camp. No one was missing us.

It was like that time in the kitchen again. Just you and me, all alone. Unnoticed by the universe.

I finally tell you that I don’t have a fever. You tell me that you know.

The next question that came to mind was, ‘ then why are you here ?”

I didn’t ask it. I was afraid you’d find a reason to leave, and I don’t have the courage to ask you to stay.

You slumped down onto the bed next to me. We stayed there, side by side, with our shoulders pressed together. We sat for a long, long time. Neither of us talked.

I don’t remember which of us fell asleep first. I don’t even know how we fell asleep—we were in our paladin armors, sitting against a wall. That is beyond an uncomfortable position.

But when I wake up it’s completely dark. There are no light rays passing through Black’s windshield, aside from the dim glow of the other lions’ eyes. There’s a weight on my shoulder. It’s you. You’re still there. You stayed.

I would’ve felt warm and giddy had I not been experiencing ten centuries worth of back pain. God, these space suits are so stiff. I got up to stretch and you collapsed over onto your side. It took me by surprise—doesn’t everything these days?—I hadn’t realized how heavily you had been leaning against me. I’m glad you could lean on me. But also, uh, sorry about that.

You didn’t wake. You continued sleeping, twisted over the bed with your legs still on the floor. I’m honestly jealous, Lance. I wish I could sleep so easily. I’m glad you’re sleeping so easily.

I’m completely discoordinated in the dark, partially because you were there, in my Lion, in my bed. It’s—that’s—okay, this is going to sound dumb, but that’s a little bit of a big deal to me? You doing all that, it has an effect on me. It’s not trivial or casual. I love you , Lance. There’s no way for me to not be affected by your presence. Especially seeing you sleeping, calmly and peacefully.

I hit my head against a light switch and suddenly the whole room is illuminated. You wake up to that, all groggy and groaning and complaining. You’re speaking again, something about: ‘ turn it OFF, Keith’, ‘Keith where did you go?’, and ‘Keith come back’. The things you do to me, Lance. Calling out for me with a sleep-addled voice. You’re so cute. You’re so sweet. Do you know it? The way that you are?

Cute or not, I’m not sleeping in my armor. Not if I can help it. I’ve done it enough times and it still remains uncomfortable. I’m not going to remain suited up when I’m trying to cuddle with you.

That is, if you wanted to cuddle.

We did cuddle, which—shit, that’s a spoiler. Who am I kidding, you were literally there . I’m not spoiling shit.

I’ll resume back to where I was. No more skipping around. I have to paint the perfect story in case I ever forget anything.

So I started stripping down to my underclothes. You’re looking at me funny. I asked what was wrong. You told me you were admiring the view. You fucking ass. I know I looked like a rat. I look like I’ve been on a road trip for months. I HAVE been on a road trip for months.

Somehow, you still look alright. Just alright, though. No need to boost your ego (as if I haven’t already).

You’re up by now, rubbing at your eyes and stumbling around. You stagger away from the bed and I think you’re going to leave, but then you start removing your armor piece by piece. You’re so fast—you’re back to bed in an instant.

It’s so laughable how you didn’t even ask to stay. You’re always like this, Lance. Pushing yourself into my space, growing all over me like ivy crawling over ruined buildings. You’ve invaded me thoroughly, all the way till the heart. I am fully contaminated by you. I’m glad you don’t ask before taking from me. Not that sleeping in my bed is any sort of taking. You’ve done so much for me, dedicated so much to helping me, that I’m selfishly glad you don’t have qualms about taking bites out of my life.

And I’m selfishly glad that it’s in your interest to take from me. I want to provide for you. Be there for you, be with you. Should you have chosen not to, to let our paths diverge, I would remain ever giving, ever waiting. Like a loser.

I climbed back into bed, and then with a sudden stroke of thoughtless determination and adrenaline, I curled my arms around you.

Lance, even now as I recount this, I cannot imagine in the slightest how I was able to do that. I must’ve gotten possessed. I remember staring over your peaceful face—you weren’t asleep yet, just resting. And the urge to hold you was so strong, it wasn’t even a thought. I just acted on it. I wound my arms around you and buried my face against your head. The second I realized what I was doing, I had to suppress the urge to tear myself away so viscerally, because that’s fucking weird, weirder than cuddling your comrade to sleep.

I must’ve tensed up. Must’ve? Okay, I definitely tensed up. I was tense as hell. The most tense person in the universe. Carve me into a statue or something, that’s how stiff I was.

Still, you just rolled over in my hold so that you were facing me, with your head tucked against my shoulder. You sighed and you—

You sounded content. Happy.

It absolutely did not register to me at all as a possibility that I make you content. Happy. I’ve always thought of it as some wistful dream. ‘ I’d like to make Lance happy .’ I never thought of it as some possibility for the present time. I always thought I needed to be better, to be more to make you happy.

But holding you while we drifted to sleep, you had to be happy, right? You had to have some satisfaction? To sleep near someone—that’s the largest form of satisfaction, of relaxation and safety. You’ve let your guard down. Your senses are low. Around me. You’re that way around me.

And yes, we’ve lived in the castle together. Yes you’ve fallen asleep in random places in the castle. But this is different. You’re sleeping with me .

Not with me. Jesus christ. Not with me, next to me.

That’d be, yeah. Yeah. Not the same thing. Anyways…

You started talking. At first I thought it was mumbo-jumbo sleep talking; I wouldn’t put it past you to hold a conversation even in your sleep.

But then you address me and it occurs to me that I had zero clue what you said at all. Absolutely none. I said, ‘ Huh? ’ like an idiot, but you laughed. I guess I can be an idiot to make you laugh. We all know I’m the less funny of the two of us, so I have to entertain you somehow.

You repeat yourself. You tell me that you missed me. Lance, you missed me. You missed me? Can you believe that? Of course you can, you’re you. But I can’t— you missed me.

You tell me that you were worried after such a long radio silence, that even after three days of no contact you were getting antsy because even if I left, I wasn’t—I didn’t abandon you all. I didn’t turn my back on you, so it made no sense to you why I’d go stone cold silent unless it was for a mission, or if something happened.

You tell me that you didn’t know how to tell people you missed me because people were so used to thinking you thought the worst of me, and that if anything happened to me you regretted being so terrible at the start, that you still do regret being terrible at the start.

I tell you you weren’t terrible. You laugh again.

You apologize.

You apologize ? It’s unfathomable to me. In my mind, there’s absolutely nothing in the universe for you to be sorry for. You were the hand that pushed me down and pulled me back up and never once did you let me go. You never let me drift off. How can you apologize to me when you, every bit of you, are so crucial to my life?

You tell me about how you were lonely without me. How things were so different, how you need me to know things were different because I was so important to you all. That things weren’t as good without me. That you missed me so much, so much, so much, and that you’re so glad I’m back.

I tell you I missed you too.

Tell is an overstatement. An over exaggeration of my verbal skills. What I did was remix the fuck out every word that came from my mouth. I might as well have started beatboxing.

I don’t know if you understood anything I said, but you grab my hands and hold them. You hold them between our chests like the joinment is something sacred, something to keep close to the heart.

Lance, when did we become like this? When did the pages of our storybook flutter away from the starting chapter? We’ve changed so much, again and again, like clay being stretched and molded by the crafty hands of the universe. Yet we still fit together, thorough and through.

I think we were meant for each other. I think that’s why it’s so easy to be with you. But also, that feels like a fraudulent statement. That kind of reduces all the work we’ve put into who we are into simple fate. Because it wasn’t easy to be with you. It wasn’t for a long, long time.

I remember looking at your face and getting pissed off. Your face! That was all it took. One look and I was fuming. Peace was done for when we were in a room together.

It’s hard to believe how far we’ve come.

I guess the war has brought us close together, but Lance, I don’t-

I don’t want to be close to you because of the war. I don’t, well i want you in all ways possible, and I’d take you in all ways possible, but-

Ugh. I don’t even know how to say this. I wish you were the one writing letters to me and all I had to do was read. That’d be so easy. You always know how to speak.

Speaking of speaking, after my terrible attempt of saying whatever I was saying (I miss you, but no one needs to know that), we fall silent. It’s nice, but also, I felt pretty awkward because I thought I owed you some words. You love so verbally and exist through your words; it must mean something for you to receive that back.

It scares me, to speak. My heart jolts in my chest everytime I’m to address a crowd or give vital information. Words are heavy. Words are real. They’re heard and understood and people can- a lot of people’s perception of you come from how you speak. What you say. I’ve seen it so many times, when I open my mouth and I watch people’s faces shift as I continue to spill out words after words. I’ve gotten blank stares, looks of resentment, disgust, anger. I’ve gotten normal reactions too, but you know. It sticks with you. All those looks.

I guess that might be why I stay a bit quiet. I know you all are receptive of me, but old habits die hard. Really, really hard, because I was trying really hard to speak and the words just weren’t coming.

What was I supposed to say to you, Lance? I already told you that I missed you. Whether you caught it or not, it’d be odd for me to repeat myself. Other than that, what is there? I’m not talking to you about mission reports and the war; at that point you can just shoot me.

I’m being a liar. There’s a lot to talk to you about. It’s part of the reason why I love it when we talk. I guess I’m just scared. Plain, old, scared.

But Lance, you deserve more than the fear in my heart. You deserve the words you want to hear.

I tell you that you’re pretty.

You shoot up like a bullet. Suddenly, you’re sitting upright, and you’ve also headbutted me in the chin, which by the way- ow. That hurt.

Your reaction was so alarming that I didn’t know what to do. So I simply feigned sleep, which: GOD. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. WHY DID I THINK THAT WOULD WORK.

If I was ever intelligent, that’s never the case around you.

I love you.

I didn’t tell you that then. I continued to feign sleep, which didn’t deter you in the slightest. You kept shaking me and yelling, “what does that mean? What does that mean?” Well Lance, it’s pretty straightforward. What do you think it means?

I flipped you off. You smacked my hand away. I jabbed you in the stomach. You started beating me with a pillow.

What kind of a pair are we?

After our fight died down and we were reduced back to exhaustion, you slump against me and simply pass out. Just like that. How do you do that, Lance? I’ll never get it.

I stayed up for a while, but not because I find it hard to sleep. I wanted to be conscious for as long as I was holding you; I wanted to savor every moment that you were in my arms. I wanted to etch it into my memory forever, the way we fit, the way we are. I- it means so much to me. You mean so much to me. I don’t know how else to say it. You might make my heart burst. Split wide open.

I can’t imagine telling myself three years ago about this. I’d probably scoff and walk away. I was always brushing off good things like that back then.

But I’m here now. I’m here now with you, and I’m taking this. For once in my life, I’d like to keep something. I’d like to keep this family, you, this feeling, forever.

,Keith

Dear Lance,

We fought today. It was uh,

Well, we’re alright for starters. I didn’t have any doubt that we wouldn’t be, but do you remember the fights from when we first went to space? Those took days to cool over, maybe even weeks. We’d be at each other’s throats, saying the worst things, wishing death and wielding such cruel words.

We fought today. A bit like that.

I don’t like fighting with you, Lance.

It makes me feel off. It makes me at odds with myself. You are so precious to me that any conflict coming your way is a conflict coming my way, even if I am the one who causes that conflict. I don’t know how to disagree with you without it escalating to us coming for each other’s throats. That’s what disagreement has always meant for us. It was always all or nothing. You’re—we’re so passionate about our thoughts and opinions. It’s what drives our will and fight, and it’s a double edged sword. It’s never a weapon I want to point towards you, but I don’t know how to redirect the flame. We meet each other’s fires equally and rise together. I just wish we didn’t hurt each other while doing so.

There was a hostage situation on the last planet we went to. Hundreds of folks, scared, hurt, and misplaced from their homes. They were kept in these filthy, cement cargo boxes, all crammed together like sardines. Like produce. The thought of it makes me boil with rage. How dare they? How dare they be kept like that? To be tormented just for existing, existing the wrong way, at the wrong time and place. Why does that warrant this kind of punishment? What warrants this at all? If someone is so terrible and cruel, why keep them like this in a cage? Why keep anyone in a cage? What does it accomplish?

That’s just how war is. Rage again and again. Unnecessary hurt again and again. I’ve come across this before and I’ll come across this again. Death and suffering in a place that should've never seen the light of day.

It’s so sick. And it’s just how it is. It’s the things I’ve been seeing time and time again, from the second we stepped foot on Arus. No—further before that. When Shiro got kidnapped. When James Griffin and the foster parents would taunt me. When mom left. All unnecessary hurts, all of them. There could be a world where it never happened that way. It’d be so easy to make a world where it never happened that way. Just a few instances, altered. And there’d never be anything to rage over ever again.

How optimistic of me. How naive of me.

I know better than to think there’s a universe where good people weren’t always wronged.

Sorry, Lance. I got carried away. I never meant for these harsh and negative words to reach your letter. This meant for things I want to tell you, or secretly think towards you in my head. I do like confiding in you, but I don’t—this isn’t about that. This is about you. About us . I’ll save my grief for another day. I’ll exhaust it out in your arms, not over this paper.

We rescued the hostages and tended to their injuries. It was a strenuous process, especially given our limited staff and the lack of the castle, but we made it work. Anything worked better than the conditions they were in before.

The next step after, after we collected stories and data from the civilians, was to figure out a safe route for them to reach their planets.

Here’s where the fight started.

You—Lance, I admire you. I admire you and your drive deeply, especially when it comes to helping people. But Lance, you’re so…you’re too idealistic sometimes. You want to try everything. Fix everything. And some things, Lance, I’m sorry, but we have to accept that it’s not in our hands. Especially with our limited power. We may be Voltron, but we are a lot less without the castle.

As you know, the hostages all came from a variety of planets from neighboring galaxies. And there were a lot of them. Your suggestion was this: divy up the civilians by what galaxy they’re in and stop by all their planets to drop them home.

It sounds nice, Lance. Real fucking nice. But it’s just…

It’s not possible.

There were hundreds of them, Lance. I think from around twenty planets. It’d be so many trips, from our current location to all their home planets. We’ve done large scale evacuations before, but those were under critical conditions, when the other option was leaving people to die .

Second off, it’s not a short trip. We’d be travelling to whole different galaxies . That’d be a day trip at minimum. Which means this would take us upwards of a week to figure out. And we don’t—I’m sorry Lance, we don’t have that. Time is one of the largest things working against us. It’s not even according to my calculations; Coran said it himself.

Not to mention, there’s so many other complications. These civilians were kidnapped. Meaning: some of their home planets have been destroyed. Their cultures, their families and people, they might be gone. If they’re not gone, that’s great! But then we’d have to do bureaucratic work with each planet’s government, since it’s not like we can drop them off and be on our merry way. We’d have to make sure they’re accommodated for, have food and water and shelter, and so much more. What if we dropped them off and they were like, fucking homeless? Some of these civilians are kids. What if they have nowhere to go?

And I know , Lance. I know. I know that if they have nowhere to go back home, they have nowhere to go out in space too. That’s just how it is. To be lost and stranded is a state of being that’ll haunt you everywhere that you are. I know.

I told you my issues with your plan. Well…, I didn’t tell you as nicely. Which might be my problem. I said that you were being too ideal, and that it wouldn’t be possible. You scoffed and said that it’s our job to bring people home, no matter how hard it is or how long it takes.

Lance, I know it’s our job. I’m a part of—I work with Voltron as much as you do. I know. But we have other teams helping us. The Blades. The Coalition. Nearby allegiant planetary governments. We’re not alone . This isn’t a task that we should break our backs completing.I want to bring everyone home too.

I told you that we’d delegate the work.

Which, yeah. That sounds a bit robotic. Monotone. Heartless.

I promise I’m not, Lance. I’m not heartless.

You got mad at that. You told me that I was just handing these civilians around like they were responsibilities more than living beings, and that I of all people should know better than to do that.

Which, what the hell, Lance? Why would you—what? You, why would you bring that up, right then and there? Why would you bring that up against me?

I know how it feels like to be handed around. I know how it feels to be treated like garbage, like work, like a chore. This is not that. I would never treat someone like that. I would rather die. It boils my blood to even think of the idea of treating someone like cargo. And it breaks my heart that you’d even think to see me as someone who’d do such a thing.

Do you see me that way, Lance? Have I turned into the thing I hate the most?

I haven’t. I know I haven’t. But what you perceive me to be is almost just as important to me as how I truly am. I need you to know that I’m not that way. I need you to know that I’m good .

Naturally, I didn’t tell you that either. I told you: What’s that supposed to mean, you piece of shit? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why would I say that?

I was mad. So mad. I was mad on the behalf of these people and here you bring me a task that I cannot possibly complete, that’ll I definitely let everyone down with, and I let it out on you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ever spoken to you that way.

But you shouldn’t have said that stuff to me either.

You care, Lance. You care so deeply. But just because I don’t display my care the way you do doesn’t mean that I don’t care at all. If I’m being strategic about a situation rather than empathetic, that doesn’t mean that I’m not empathetic at all. We’re spread thin in a war.

Those civilians will get home. Voltron won’t be the ones getting them home, but they’ll get home. Do you hear me, Lance? We have the same goal. We’re in this together. We’re a team. A good one too, if we let us be that way.

Our argument ended shortly after that. We both knew where it was heading, that the only way the steam could rise is up. We walked it off. Worked it off. There’s too much to be done for us to simply stew around in our anger.The universe will not pause for our squabble.

I’ll talk to you tonight. We’ll figure it out. We always do.

Love, Keith

LANCE,

I’m DRINKED.

DRIKN.

DRUNK.

LOVE YOUUUUUUUU.

LOVE YOU SO MUCH. I’M GONNA KISS YOU.

LOVE, KEITH

E-LOG #014

APOLOGY DRAFT:

Hi, Lance. I’m really sorry for my behavior two nights ago. It was unprofessional of me to act that way as your colleague, and awful for me to behave like that as your friend. I value our bond and history together deeply, and I have no desire to ever violate your boundaries. I respect you as a person and

I sincerely keep your comfort levels and safety as a priority in my head. It was a complete accident for me to dismiss and disregard the way you might feel about that my actions me coming onto you.

I am so sorry. So, so sorry. I know that doesn’t excuse or justify what I did, and I understand if you are uncomfortable with my feelings and being around me. Know that regardless of how I feel, I sincerely have seen you as a friend and tried my best to treat you as such. Evidently not enough. I can’t imagine how stressed and hurt I’ve made you feel, especially alongside all the troubles going on in the war.

It’d be in my interest to mend our friendship and our dynamic, but I’d like to do whatever you want the most. Not in a weird way. We can do or become whatever suits your and the universe’s best interest. No need to worry too much about me. I’ll be alright as long as you’re alright.

Hey silly,

What did I tell you about keeping your datapad in a secure location? To think I kept it away for you so nicely, only for you to come back and carelessly toss it around on your bed. Really? One day, this might be held against you. All the letters and whatever else you keep on here.

It’s good to see that you’re keeping the habit up. The letter writing habit. I still haven’t read any of them, but who knows? Maybe one day I might. Or maybe I’ll have you read them to me. HAHAH. I can perfectly imagine how that’d go. You’d look so cute and embarrassed. You’d stop every two seconds and ask, Do I have to?

That’d be so mean of me. But I can’t help it. Keith, darling, I want to know all the things you have to say to me. All of them.

What do you think of the way I speak? Of my stories? Of my looks and fighting style? I want to know all of it. The truth always lies on your tongue for all to see when you open your mouth to speak, but I want to know more. I want more. The knowledge hidden under and within. Keith, you are the most fascinating person to me. I’d like to learn everything about you.

I’m getting sidetracked; that’s not what I’ve broken into your room and stolen your datapad for. I can tell you these things in person easily, and then watch you squirm and get flustered HAHAH.

No, I’m here because you’re not really talking to me at the moment.

Don’t worry—I’m not holding it against you.

I get it, Keith. I know you, Keith. You’re gearing yourself up for some large talk you want to have with me. I can see it in the way your eyes shift around the room when I walk in, or the way you hurry and stutter through any directions you’re handing to me. Don’t be embarrassed about the call out. I’m not making fun of you, or criticizing you. I just always notice you.

I suppose I should give you your space, then. Wait while you figure out what you want to tell me. But I can’t help it, Keith. I’m always impatient. I always jump the gun.

I know we had that moment last week. The one where you came up to me and draped your arms around me and peppered kisses onto my face like it was the most natural thing to do. Latched onto me like there was nowhere else you wanted to go. Told me all sorts of soft, sweet things, under the guise of an innocuous drink from a diplomatic event.

Not that you’re not usually sweet.

I know you want to talk about our moment from last week. I know you’re nervous about it too. Scared, even.

I guess I want to tell you that you don’t have to be.

It’s just me, Keith. Keith, sweetheart, babe, mullet. It’s just Lance. The same Lance per usual. The same Lance who trips over his feet when he sees you training so skillfully. The Lance who snatches spoonfuls of his favorite meals away from you and dumps portions of that distasteful, “nutritious” goo that you like so much onto your plate. The Lance who finds every chance to cuddle or lean against you.

It’s just me, Keith. You don’t have to be afraid.

Aside from the fact that I crave your touch at all times, and the fact that you haven’t done anything wrong or out of the ordinary for the two of us, I need you to know that you’re okay. It’s okay for you to act bolder than usual. It’s okay to come out of your shell, no matter how you do it. I

I love you, Keith. I love you so much.

Not that I’ve ever told you that. Uh, whoops? Does this count as a confession? I don’t know. I don’t think so. If this counts as a confession, then so does the fact that you write me letters in your free time. And we’re not counting that because I never read them. I know you’ll read this, but it’s different because I haven’t said it to you yet. One day, I’ll say it to you. I’ll hold your hands and take you home and whisper it right next to your ear. I’ll tell it to you everyday.

It’ll be great! It’ll be cool and suave. I definitely don’t have it planned out, ahah. I don’t know why you’d think that I would. Ahah. Ahaha.

I know you’ll see this entry soon. Soon enough, at least. I always see you scrolling around or writing on your datapad. You’ll see the words I’ve written, and GOD, I’ll be so embarrassed, but it’ll be worth it if it makes you feel better. If it makes you less nervous and scared. I’m not trying to rush you—of course, I’d love to get right back to talking with you, but I want it to be right. I want it to be okay, for you to feel okay.

Okay, I wrote a lot more than I expected to, which, who am I kidding? I should know myself, I always have so much to say. Hope it’s not a problem. Hope I didn’t, like, take up too much storage? Man, how much storage do these things have? I should ask Pidge.

TL;DR: You don’t need to worry. Everything is okay. We’re okay. Great, even.

Love, Lance xoxoxoxoxoxoxooxo

Dear Lance,

Holy shit. What the fuck. Holy shit.

E-LOG #015

200 AU till touchdown

E-LOG #016

176 AU till touchdown

E-LOG #017

170 AU till touchdown

E-LOG #018

149 AU till touchdown

E-LOG #019

133 AU till touchdown

E-LOG #020

98 AU till touchdown !! Holy shit

E-LOG #021

67 AU till touchdown

E-LOG #022

42 AU till touchdown

E-LOG #023

25 AU till touchdown

E-LOG #024

10 AU till touchdown

Dear Lance,

Hi Lance.

My sweet Lance. Semi-sweet Lance—like chocolate. Sometimes you’re mean to me, after all. Not that I mind it—I never do anymore. I let you get away with so much, but I can’t help it. I like to see you smile.

I’m so flustered writing this. I feel so shy, like I’m meeting you for the first time. Perhaps it’s because this letter will really reach you.

I don’t want to mess it up. I want to do you full justice. You deserve so much , Lance. You deserve all the brightest days and the kindest words. I want to give that to you. I’m hoping that with this letter, I’ll convey such a thing.

We will reach Earth tomorrow.

It’s unreal, unsurmountable to me. How can we reach Earth? It has been out of our grasps for so many years; how can it simply appear before us? It’s just another planet, one out of many, but it’s home. It’s home, Lance. We’re going home. We’re going to see beaches and cracked pavement and soccer matches on dingy TVs. We’re going to see soda and graphic t-shirts and sunflowers. There’ll be cheetahs and elephants and dogs and cats, and people , Lance. There’ll be people.

I can’t imagine the planet hasn’t changed in the time we’ve been gone. The tides turn and the sun dips into a new day within the blink of an eye. We’ve missed pages of history books and natural phenomena. We’ve missed politics, disasters, new laws, deaths, and advancements. They could’ve cured a disease while we were gone, and there could’ve risen a new illness we’ve never heard of. Things collapse and appear like this all the time. We know this, Lance. We’ve lived this.

But I think that no matter what we see tomorrow, we’ll recognize the very rock that birthed us and find such a sense of familiarity, that there’d be nothing better to do than to crawl back to it like a child to a mother. It is home , Lance.

Still, I hope you find what you’re looking for on Earth.

I hope you find your family intact. Your home, just as you left it. Your things, just as you want them. I hope you find everything you want, and that when you’re reading this letter, it is with a sense of relief that your heart’s desires have been fulfilled.

I want this for you, Lance. I want this so badly that it could just be for myself. Can I do that? Can I selfishly crave your happiness?

Well, whatever the answer is, the truth is that I do. I spend most of my wishes for you. The rest of them scatter to the universe, but it’s mainly you. Always you.

Tomorrow, we will land on terrain. Tomorrow, we will flurry onwards in different directions. All of our paths will diverge briefly, and it’ll wage a different kind of war in my heart, but I’ll be satiated enough by the knowledge that you all can rest at ease with your families. Tomorrow, we will have a new heap of work and diplomacy, and it’ll be awful, but it’ll be the least of the worst to come.

The war is almost over, Lance. Can you feel it?

Things are almost done.

The odds are in Voltron’s favor, but our odds, my odds, have scattered to the wind. I’ve always had a very half-and-half relationship with luck. Unlucky: being thrust into the middle of a war. Lucky: finding a family. There’s two sides of a coin to each thing that happens to me, and it’s hard to tell whether this war will end with a heads or tails. Whether it’ll simply end, or it’ll end me.

That’s so dramatic. God, I hope I don’t die or something and then traumatize you with this letter.

I’m sorry. I joke about it, but I’m sorry.

I don’t know how not to jest—I want to make you feel better, but I know that’d you’d stay downright miserable no matter what I wrote. I want to keep this letter away from the flames of the war. I don’t want it to burn and feel like ashes in your gentle hold, but it’s impossible.

Lance, if I die, you have to know that it’ll be okay.

Lance, sweetheart, baby, honey. It’ll become okay. And you’ll shake your head and cry and feel so much anguish, but there was a world before me and there will be a world after me. The universe will heal over. You will heal over. The wound is deep but it will close, ever so slowly.

I don’t intend on dying. I’d like to live, and I’d like to live by you, if that’s okay. But, you know, it happens.

What a morbid thing to say.

Truthfully, Lance, should these be some of my last days, please know that knowing you all has been the best thing to happen to me. You have given me what I have always dreamt of:a family. To die surrounded by people who love and will remember me, that’s the jackpot for me. Just by existing, just by caring for me, you’ve done so much for me in my feeble life.

I used to be directionless. I felt like I lived without purpose and I didn’t see myself in any future. I always thought I’d die, and that it’d be someday soon, and that it’d be over so quickly that no one would ever notice.

That’s not true anymore. It hasn’t been true for a long time. Thank you for that. Thank you to all of you.

Alright then. Now that that’s out of the way, I can finally move onto the heart of the letter. Did you think I wrote this just to weep about death? Hardly—topics like that simply come up easily with our line of profession.

Of course I’m writing more than that. Lance, this is a letter to you. For you. You’d be insane if I’d cut it short here. I, for all my stilted speech, could pour out words for days like a cracked vessel if you were the topic of discussion. You are my muse, darling. You turn me into a poet.

Not that I have a track record of sweeping you off your feet with my charismatic words. That’s you, baby. You do that. But we can’t forget about the countless letters I’ve written to you, no matter how embarrassing it is. Lance, I still can’t believe you found my datapad. It’s not like I was being discreet with it, but still! How the fuck did you find the letters?

Maybe you were drawn to it like it was meant for you. Because it is meant for you. All of it—no matter how private it is or how personally I hold it to my chest. You can have all of me, and therefore, all these letters.

EVEN THOUGH I’M SO EMBARRASSED.

I do thank you for not going through them. This is one of the many reasons I love you, Lance. You have the key to my heart, and yet you still wait to open it. You wait till I’m home, till I’m alright, before gently twisting the doorknob. I would hardly mind if you barged in, but you don’t do that to me. You don’t grab from me the things you want. You wait and wait, no matter how long I take to get to you. You are ever so kind and patient with me, Lance.

I don’t think I would’ve minded if you read through the letters, Lance. Would I have been mortified? Absolutely. I’d hide away in my room out of shame and fear, but it’d only be temporary because you’d come by like you always do to let my walls down. I can imagine you see me as some private person—I am a private person—but that distance doesn’t exist with you. I am an island in the heart of the sea and you are the sole sailor that has docked your boat on my sands.

That was a pretty good line, wasn’t it? I’m telling you, I do have a way with words. I must, if someone like you is drawn to me. Unless you fell for my awkward and rash nature. You probably did, you freak.

Lance, we orbit each other like twin stars. Well, twin stars actually orbit the same center of mass, but the logistics don’t matter. We’re constantly dancing around each other; you never leave my field of vision, even when we are apart. No push or shove is strong enough to force us away from each other.

But I’m worried, Lance.

I’m worried that things might change.

It’s as I said about myself: there was a world before me, and there’ll be a world after me. Lance, I don’t want there to be a world after us. I want us to be forever, even if it’s selfish of me.

Throughout the war, we have been constantly bound to each other. Even through rapid highs and lows, we’ve remained somehow by each other’s sides. And during the times when I was away, you still lingered. You lingered as if I was never gone. I dreamt of you so vividly that you had to have been there. How could I have made it up?

But now that the war is ending, I’m worried we will be pulled apart.

It’s so dumb, I know. I know, Lance. Things like Earth, space, and Voltron, they will very well remain the same. Things don’t have to be different. But I’m worried, Lance. I’m so worried that I have been so deeply molded by this war, that for it to end will shatter me. I will go back to being lost and purposeless. And you—I don’t ever want you to feel that way, either. Like you count your days away and watch the calendar cycle through months without any of it meaning anything.

I don’t know anything but this war anymore. I don’t remember anything except how to fight.

There are other things that fall in between: your singing, Hunk’s slightly salty cookies, Pidge blowing up ancient technology, the space mice chewing holes in my clothes, arm wrestling matches with Shiro, watching Coran do a backflip (??), watching Allura braid her long hair, racing you down the hall, programming a camcorder to vlog our lives, drawing on Shiro’s prosthetic arm, explaining both Earth and Altean terms to Romelle, playing fetch with Kosmo and Krolia.

Was it me or the war? Was it me or the war?

Will things like this remain or wash away?

I don’t know Lance. I’ve never known this before the war. My life was blank for so long, and then you touched the Blue Lion and it burst into color. You keep talking of how you followed me into space, but Lance, I followed you . If I discover the path, you are the trailblazer who marches down it with no choice for me but to come after.

There’s not a corner of the universe I wouldn’t follow you to, but that’s only if you let me. If you let me go after this, I understand. You have a life, a family to go back to. You have something more. All I’ve ever had is this.

Not that this is some sort of pity-letter. I’m not begging you to keep me around. To say I’m not desperate for you would be a lie, but I respect you, Lance. Your wishes and desires are my wishes and desires. If you tell me to go, I’ll go. I’d live on without you. I exist as more than someone who loves you, after all. But I don’t know if I exist as more than a soldier. And I request that if you can, you can allow me to learn life by your side.

It’d be nice to do the things you said you’d take me to do on Earth. To learn surfing. To visit the farm. To eat fancy dinners together and take the team on a picnic. To play sports till nightfall, and kiss while watching the blazing sunset.

What a nice life. I feel giddy thinking about it. In this daydream of mine, we act with each other the same as we do now. Could that be possible? Being this way with you, without the imminent battle looming ahead of us.

I want it so bad.
I’ve always been scared of wanting. I have been looked down upon for asking and wanting and needing. But with you, there is no such judgement. I trust you enough to want from you so openly.

I love you, Lance. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Want me to say it again?

I love you.

I sound so stupid and down-bad, but what other time is there to sound such a way than before the climax of a war. I pour my heart into this letter for safekeeping, should anything happen to me, should I be anywhere that you are not. I want you to know, Lance, how loved you are. I want you to know your impact, not just on me, but on everyone. You need to know that no one, no one at all in the whole universe, would be where they are without you. You are so important for all your qualities. All of them have such a large contribution to the team; you bring life and prosperity wherever you go.

Your drive for adventure inspires all of us. Your desperate push to help others propels us to do more. Your sharp mind comes up with strategies that help us win battles and wars, and your wit solves heated problems that seem far from cooling down. And you’re funny, so funny. You make me laugh so much that I look silly. You make everyone feel good, but you’re more than just a cheerful guy—you’re so skilled and talented. The way you fly, Lance. It’s insane.

You make remarks about my speed and Shiro’s precision, but Lance, you fly like a bird. Like you exist for the skies. You swoop and weave and laugh while doing so, and it’s all so fluid. It’s all so mesmerizing. And it’s so funny to think that, because aren’t you a man of the sea? Paladin of the Blue Lion, Guardian of water, boy from Varadero—I see the ocean in you more than anything. How can you belong to both? Perhaps you are born from the horizon, where the pale sky meets the edge of Earth in a sharp contrast of blues.

I can imagine standing at the shore, staring out at the sea, and finding you at the skyline. What a lovely sight. There’s really nothing more beautiful.

Lance, you’re all this and even more. You’re our sharpshooter. How many times have we found ourselves, caged in, thinking that we were at the end of the line, only for you to fire an opening? We’re alive because of you. And you’re so multifaceted—you can wield a sword too? That’s so hot, Lance. But more than how it makes me feel, it’s just so cool . You pick up skills so easily. You’re nearly fluent in Altean. You learn about the history and culture of every planet we visit. You studied quantum encryption in your free time to free up Pidge’s workload. You help Hunk out in the kitchen. You make such cool modifications to Blue and Red that I’m jealous that I didn’t think to do it.

You’re everything, Lance. Don’t you get it?

I’d like to remind you of this for the rest of my life. But should I not be near you, I hope this letter will suffice. It contains my whole heart and soul. Can you feel it, Lance? Is the paper heavy in your hands with the weight of my words? It should be. There is so much meaning to everything I’m saying now, and it’s because I speak of you.

I am where I am because of you. You’ve had my back so much, I’m honestly spiteful of the fact that I haven’t been able to be there for you like that all the time. When I was gone—and I don’t regret being gone—I missed being there for you. I missed out on it.

I’m sorry, baby. I thought things would work out without me, at least for you. I was focused on other things, and I thought that I’d leave you with less of a burden. I can see how I was wrong.

You need me too, I think. I think, maybe, that I made you feel less lonely.

Not that your happiness is dependent on me, or something. I’m not all so encompassing of a person. But I guess I’m a little important to you.

This letter is coming to an end, but I need to tell you, before I finish it:

For the past month, we have been

You and I—we’ve become something more. I don’t know what to call it. Boyfriends, maybe? We’ve shared kisses, hugs, and beds. There had always been something there, but since the night I accidentally got drunk and collapsed onto your lap muttering all sorts of sweet things (I’m so embarrassed to remember it, but I don’t regret it), something has shifted. You wrote me that sweet letter back and then we talked and you kissed me—

Lance, I need you to know how much I fucking love kissing you. I’m so mad I wasn’t doing it before. Damn my stupidity. Damn my nervousness. I wasted so much time pondering and strategizing for you to just come by and plant one on me? How maddening. God, I want you to kiss me right now. It’s so dumb that we’re in different lions. Your lips…they’re so soft. And they just fit against mine so well. And your skin is so smooth. All those face masks really paid off, huh? I’m so enamored.

And when you hold me it’s so nice. If I concentrate really hard I can still feel the phantom touches of your fingertips against my skin. I love the way you hug me. I love it when you brush your hands through my hair. I love the way you hold my face, and I even love when you tackle or punch me for no good reason.

I’m reading this back and I sound so ridiculous. Holy shit, I sound so morbidly lovesick. It’s true, though. I am.

I love you, Lance.

I don’t know what the future will hold. I’ve told you of my visions from the abyss, but they all mesh together. I don’t know what of it is real or not. If we really live to see beautiful sunsets and slow days. If we live at all. I’m not sure Lance, but I want to. I want it so bad. And I think that you want to too.

The next time I’ll see you, it’ll be on dirt ground. It’ll be under a blue sky. I’ll be waiting for you.

Love, Keith.

E-LOG #025

We have landed on Earth.

Dear Lance,

Oh my GOD. I forgot how agitating it is to work with these Garrison assholes. They all have a stick up their ass! Is that a part of the hiring process? Shoving sticks up their asses? Ew. Disgusting. Pretend I didn’t write that.

Somehow they’re even worse to deal with than when I was a student. Maybe it’s because they have to respect us as allies and colleagues and they can’t find it in themselves to do that. Or maybe because I have to respect them, and this time I really have to, because people’s lives depend on it. They counter us on every decision we make. They poke and prod into everything we do. They hover over Pidge’s code and argue that if we do xyz action, we’re violating rule number two-fucking-billion-something-something. “Sorry, you can’t breathe in the direction of the priority fighter jets because you don’t have a US sanctioned pilot license.” FUCK YOUR FIGHTER JETS. FUCK THE US GOVERNMENT. FUCK YOUR LICENSES. FUCK YOU JAMES GRIFFIN.

IF YOU CARED SO MUCH, YOU’D HAVE ARRESTED ME WHEN I WAS THIRTEEN FOR CAR THEFT AND THEN YOU’D NEVER HAVE TO DEAL WITH ME AS A COLLEAGUE BECAUSE I’D BE IN JAIL. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU.

Sorry. I don’t know what got a hold of me.

It’s a good thing that Shiro, Colleen, and Sam are doing most of the bureaucracy. Allura and Coran try to help…but it’s just. Interplanetary diplomatic skills only work when the planet is actually aware of generalized etiquettes across the galaxy. It also works better when you’re not being treated like a convicted felon.

Whatever. It’s working out. They’re working with us. I can’t think about it too much or I’ll get mad again. I’m already mad again.

Okay, cooling down because this wasn’t even what I sat down to write about. Give me a minute.

Hey I’m back!

What I wanted to write about is this:

Lance, you looked so fucking gorgeous in the sunset.

I was surprised when you joined me. It was our day to meet with our families, after all. It’s the first time seeing them in a while, and the last time to see them for a bit. I thought you’d spend your whole day at home, lumped into a massive group hug with a quarter the population of Cuba (because how do you have so many relatives??)

Instead, you stopped by to visit me.

It makes me feel like maybe you consider me your family too. But you see me everyday! Lance, you really should have your priorities in check. Don’t you want to spend more time with your mom?

Well, you showed up sitting next to me. Said you wanted to escape all the crowds and prodding questions. Apparently Hunk and Romelle keep badgering you to take Allura out for dinner. On a date! Ha! Can you imagine that?

I think you should’ve, though. Not gone on a date with her-but brought her to your house. Both her and Coran. I don’t know, it’s just that they’re our family too? And it’d be cool to show them that Earth can be as much as a home for them as the Castle ship was for us. That this is not some random planet they’re visiting on a whim. That this is our home, but more than that, it can be theirs too. Maybe not in the way Altea was, but it could still be something meaningful.

Well, you asked her, and she said no anyways because she’s busy. She’s always busy. Always doing some work. The new Altean that Haggar has brainwashed throws so many variables into the equation. I feel bad for Allura.

Bring her to dinner next time. Bring her to dinner when we’re not leaving home with the idea that we might not come back.

We sat on top of Black and talked for so long, and the sunlight on your face lingered for so long that I thought you had always been painted that way. With gold in your eyes and red glinting on your hair. You looked beautiful, Lance. You look beautiful-present tense-I can’t see you now, but I just know. You’re probably manning the meeting you're in, taking charge and putting Garrison officials in their place left and right. Ha! I’m so proud of you.

I think you read the letter I gave you.

I think so. I gave it to you all folded up and told you to read it when you had a moment alone. You must’ve recognized what it was; your eyes lit up and you got all excited. Okay, jackass. I’m sure it’s fun to relish in how embarrassingly down-bad I sound.

But a few hours ago, just in the morning when I was loading the lions for today’s take off, you ran over to me and threw your arms around my neck. You should consider a career in football if you ever tire of this piloting thing. You tackled me pretty solidly. I nearly crashed down onto a crate of ammunition.

You held me so tight that it hurt and started repeating that you love me again and again. And then you held my face and kissed me all over. It reminded me a bit of Kosmo, but I didn’t say anything because you were all teary eyed. Then you told me that your home was my home.

You made me promise you that I’d come home.

I’ll come home, Lance. I promise. I promised you then and I’ll promise you now. I’m coming home.

Love, Keith

Dear Allura,

You will never get this letter. Never, ever.

There is not a corner of the universe I can mail this to for you to receive. There is not a corner of the universe where I can find you, ever again.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what to write.

You’re gone. That’s it. There’s nothing more.

And that’s so wrong, isn’t it? You have always been so, so much. How can there be nothing of you left? There are traces, memories, but they are fragments of an incomplete puzzle. Pieces that we do not know how to put together without you.

I’ve always wondered how a whole life can be reduced to nothing. How my father had been reduced to ashes. How common foot soldiers have disappeared from a single blast from Voltron. There’s so much. It’s like sucking the ocean dry, or hiding the sun away. How can it be gone? How can there be nothing? Where is all that there was, all that I’ve known? How can I reshape my life with this crucial part of it missing?

To live without oxygen; how do you do that? How do you live without the bare necessities? How can I be introduced to something so vital to my well being, only for it to be taken away? Should I die alongside it? Should I follow where you have gone?

I followed you into war, Allura. What’s one more step after?

I won’t, Allura. I know I won’t. Even if I could, even if I had the luxury to not have to power through, I still wouldn’t.

I just don’t know how to know that you’re dead.

You weren’t supposed to do that. From the start, I had decided that all of you would live. It had to be that way. I was a kid when I decided that, and I’m older now, but the foolish naivety followed me like a shadow. I still believed, till the end, that you’d all live. That any fracture that could exist would be between me and the team, not anywhere else. You weren’t supposed to be the part that we lost.

I’m so naive. How could I deceive myself into this idea that you all would live? I’ve never believed in miracles for myself. Why did I think that miracles for others existed too? There’s no such thing as good fortune. We’re all the same, across all races and species. We are all capable of death, equally. Death may reach us across decades or centuries, but it’ll reach us all the same.

But why did it reach you, Allura? You were my friend. How could it reach you? How dare it do that? To pull you away from me, from us. You gave my life purpose for so long. I took your words and your will to fight and it fueled my own. My story jump started when I found a dusty lion in a desert cave, but it was all of you who brought it to full life.

You were so powerful. You were fighting battles that we couldn’t even comprehend. How did it become you that died? How did it become you that died? You were the strongest person in the universe? Didn’t that mean anything? Didn’t that mean that you’d live?

What am I supposed to do? What are we supposed to do? I don’t mean to make you feel bad, but you won’t ever get this letter, so I don’t even care. I don’t care, I don’t at all. I’ll tell you all of it. I’ll tell you that Hunk hasn’t been able to keep down food at all. Lance, Shiro, and Coran have been sleeping on the floor of the Atlas, still trying to comprehend what happened. They hardly sleep. They just lay there in silence, hurting. Pidge destroyed her laptop in rage. Romelle is hysterical. You were one of her hopes, you know? She has Coran, but she needed you too. We needed you too, and you’re gone.

I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, Allura. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to yell. And I do care.

It’s hard to see everyone I care about hurt so much. And they’re hurting because you’re gone, so I can’t help but foster resentment. But it’s not resentment towards you, it’s just plain old resentment. Pure anger festering in my heart with nowhere to go. It’s directionless and all consuming. It pulls me away from the way I know things. It makes me lost again, traversing through sandy dunes with no purpose. There’s nothing for me if I scream or cry. There’s nothing for me if I reflect. There’s nothing for me when I write this letter, and there’ll be nothing after. Where do I put these feelings? When can I place them down? There’s not a soul I can yell at to release all of it.

I wish I could be mad at you. I wish you were there to be mad at.

But you’re not. You’re dead. You’re-

I’m so angry. You were supposed to rest. You were supposed to rebuild your home. Your place in the universe was never supposed to be war. I’m so mad that that’s all you’ve known. You were thrust into and then frozen with all your turmoil, only to continue the fight and burden till you died. You weren’t supposed to end your life in that way.

What happened to teaching Romelle how to read and write in Altean? What happened to planting juniberries? What happened to trying Lance’s mom’s cooking and visiting the beach? What happened to rewatching all our vlogs saved on Pidge’s hard drive with the team after the war? What happened to treaties with Galran colonies that were willing to identify as independent civilizations? What happened to taking the time to getting into sports now that training wouldn’t be as necessary? What happened to renovating the mices’ living conditions? What happened to figuring out how Kaltenecker makes milk? What happened to letting Lance braid your hair? What happened to our push up competitions? What happened to beating up the punching bag of Lotor that Hunk made? What happened to getting back at Shiro and Pidge for that prank they did?

So many things left undone. So many things left behind.

Why couldn’t you have finally rested? Why did your break from the fight be death?

I’m leaving now. This isn’t making me feel better. I feel worse. Fucking hell. Sorry, Allura.

Goodbye, Allura.

From your loyal comrade,Keith

To: Kathryn Holt ( [email protected] )

Subject: Lance

Dear Pidge,

I am worried about Lance. I do not know if you have noticed, but he has been reaching out less and less. He seems further away. I do not know what to do. He is surrounded by everything he loves. He’s with his family. What do we do? I promised him I’d come home with him, but now that Allura’s gone, are things different? Maybe I’m not what he needs after this sudden change. I don’t know how to help.

Thank you for your assistance.

Regards, Keith Kogane

To: Keith Kogane ( [email protected] )

Subject: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU NOT JUST CALL ME?

Keith,

To preface this, I’d like to note: You know how during meetings, I sometimes say, “This could’ve been an email?” THAT WOULD NOT APPLY TO THIS. THIS IS NOT AN EMAIL TOPIC. HOLY SHIT, KEITH. WE WORK AT THE SAME PLACE, JUST COME TALK TO ME.

Secondly, I don’t know Keith. I don’t know. I’m not the best at this type of stuff, so I don’t know why you’re asking me. I’m honored, Keith, but I’m bad at this stuff. Maybe more than you are.

I think we’re all lost, Keith. But you notice how lost Lance is because you’re always looking at him. I don’t know what to do with Allura’s absence, and I know you don’t either. We could all convene to make each other feel better, but I think that meeting as a group would make us feel the loss more.

Go see him, Keith. I don’t know why that’s even a question. He’s not surrounded by everything he loves, because he loves you and you’re not there. Frankly, I’m not there either. I’ll swing by sometime this week, but you should go there NOW. Go home, Keith.

I’ll see you soon. That’s a threat.

By the way, the Garrison has full access to your emails.

,P

To: Kathryn Holt ( [email protected] )

Subject: Okay

Dear Pidge,

Okay.

Regards, Keith Kogane

To: Kolivan ( [email protected] )

Cc: Commander Iverson ( [email protected] )

Subject: Request of Leave

To whom it may concern,

I hope this email finds you well. I write to request time off from April 21st, 2130 till May 10th, 2130. I hope this will not disrupt any plans.

Thank you.

Regards, Keith Kogane

To: Keith Kogane ( [email protected] )

Take care of yourself.

,Kolivan

Dear Lance,

As I write this, you are sleeping on top of me. You’re laying in between my legs and your head is resting on my shoulder. Your hair tickles my neck. It’s gotten a little longer, but it suits you. You’re so beautiful. I’m so glad I get to hold you like this. I keep pinching myself to wonder if I’m dreaming.

I have dreamt this before, you know.

Not this particular scene, but something adjacent. How many times have I imagined the sun falling on your resting face? How many times have I conjured up the idea of you and I tangled under blankets with nothing to do all day?

I can’t remember if I’ve seen this in the abyss. Everything there blurred together. But this, the way we lay next to each other, seems too good to be true. How did I get this? How was this the future that was laid out for me?

I plan on giving you this letter, just like I gave you the other one. There seems to be a net positive reaction to you receiving my letters.

I want to make you happy, Lance. And I know I do, but sometimes I don’t think my words suffice. You ask me for my insight on things and all I do is nod like an idiot. I don’t think I’m the best at this talking thing. Sometimes I am; it’s not like I’m silent. I just think I could do better. We talk about heavy topics and my words are unable to lift your mood, and I know I can’t just make you happy with a few sentences, but I desperately want to. Make you happy, that is.

So I’ll leave you some letters. You won’t receive this till I’m gone back to the Blade headquarters, but hopefully you’ll find this nice. I love you, as I always do.

Love, Keith

Dear Keith,

Maybe if you wanted me to not receive this until after you left, YOU SHOULDN’T LEAVE YOUR DATAPAD UNLOCKED AND OPENED TO YOUR LATEST LETTER ON MY BED. YOU’RE BASICALLY PUTTING IT IN MY FACE TO READ.

Love, boyfriend

Dear evil Lance,

Snooper. I will get you back for this.

Love, Keith

Dearest person who wants to die,

WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU SWITCH THE LABELS FOR THE SALT AND SUGAR? MAMA IS GOING TO KILL ME. Sidenote: you look very handsome in my clothes. Keep up the good work.

Love, your rival

Dear Lance,

Why would I switch the labels of the salt and sugar? That’s a very odd thing to do. Maybe you should be more careful when you’re organizing the kitchen. Also, thank you Lance. You look very handsome in your clothes too. I get really happy when I see you.

Love, Keith

Dear Keith,

Okay, I can’t continue my pettiness when you keep writing me sweet things. Ugh, you rat. You swindled your way into my heart and now I have no choice but to forfeit the battle. Here are some things I LOVE about you, MY AMAZING BOYFRIEND KEITH KOGANE:

• Your sense of diligence and routine. You always stick to the things you have to do.
• YOUR BICEPS. I am going to EAT them.
• How you sing a little offkey. Please never stop.
• How you’ve been writing me letters in secret for the past five years (seven for you!). 
• How you’re always so nice to me. And you’re so nice to others too, even when they test your patience.
• How you help my family out around the house.
• The way you smile.
• Your hair (unfortunately)
• Your bravery: no matter if you’re scared to do something, if it needs to be done, you do it.

Okay, I’m done for now. I want to space out the compliments I give you so that the effect of them doesn’t wear off!

Love, Lance.

Dear Lance,

Your effect could never wear off.

Thank you for loving me. I love you so much.

Love, Keith

To: Keith Kogane ( [email protected] )

Suspension of leave effective May 6th, 2130. Meet me at headquarters.

,Kolivan

Lance,

I’m writing this on a napkin because I couldn’t find any paper around your house. I have to leave. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I have to go early. I know our time together isn’t supposed to be up yet, and that we had plans, but Kolivan is summoning me. I’m sorry if this lets you down. For the record, I was looking forward to trying that restaurant and playing cards with your family and babysitting Nadia and Silvio too. Sorry honey. I’ll be back. Obviously. But I PROMISE I’ll be back. You’re asleep right now. When you wake up, I won’t be there. Please don’t be so sad. I’ll be home again.

Love, Keith

To: Keith Kogane ( [email protected] )

SUBJECT: YOUR HOT & SEXY BOYFRIEND MISSES YOU

idk what to do.

you’re in space, which is great but idk. idk!

i kinda wanna go to space too but i don’t know how to well obviously i’d take a space ship CRAZY!!

i don’t think i want to go to space because you’re there not saying i don’t wanna be in space with you but it’s more than you being away from me obviously i need you near me but i miss space.

like just space. different types of rock formations and asteroid belts and radio signals from across galaxies. i miss it.

but idk if i miss SPACE or if i miss the WAR. does that make sense? it’s weird to miss war but i think you know what i mean. i think we all miss it a bit. it was our life.

besides, we never knew allura outside of war. how can i not miss the time that i knew her in?

i don’t know how to leave, but i don’t know how to stay. even when i’m here, i don’t think my head is here. i’m always staring up at the sky from the ground and down at the planet from space. i feel stuck.

idk why im sending you this. i guess im just venting. no need to respond. i miss you, though. when you come back, you have to learn how to surf.

love, lance

Sent from iPhone

Querido Lance,

Perdona mi español. También perdona mi gramática y vocabulario. Aprendí español en la escuela y no he estado en la escuela en diez años. Estoy escribiendo con un diccionario.

Escribo en español porque necesito que lo sepas en tu lengua materna, primero: que te amo. Te amo mucho. Tu eres mi estrella, Lance, tu eres por quien yo exploro y lucho. Yo iría dondequiera que vayas. Te lo dije cuando vimos esa puesta de sol: tu eres el Lance que sabe quien es y lo que tiene para ofrecer. Creo que hiciste un hogar tanto en el espacio como en la Tierra, y no sabes a donde ir. Pero no hay necesidad de elegir uno u otro. Eres bienvenido dondequiera que vayas. En Nuevo Altea con Coran y Romelle, en Olkarion con Pidge y Ryner, en la Balmera con Shay, en la Espada de Marmora conmigo, e incluso aquí, en la Garrison, no importa lo que diga Iverson. Si tu vas a un lugar nuevo, ese lugar te amará y será tu hogar también.

No te preocupes por donde ir; no importa donde vayas, tendrás un lugar al que volver.

Incluso si todo se ha ido, me tienes mi. Vienes a mi.

Dijiste que mi hogar está contigo. Que después de la guerra, debería venir a Cuba. Pero Lance, no creo que haya un ‘después de la guerra’, ahora que no hay amenaza de la Galra, porque todavía tenemos por que luchar. Creo que tendremos que luchar por siempre. ¿No es eso lo qué es la vida? ¿Una larga lucha, desde el nacimiento hasta la muerte? El vivir es luchar. No hay otra manera.

Cuando aprendes a surfear, tú luchas. Cuando vuelas, tú luchas. La lucha está en todas partes.

Incluso aqui. Yo lucho por ti.

Ve a donde tu corazón quiere. Y si tu corazón está atascado, vendré a ayudarte.

Escribo en español para mostrarte que, tu lenguaje esta en el espacio también. Las cosas que amas también están aquí. Amas tanto que tu amor está en todas partes del universo.

No creas que la tierra y el espacio son tan diferentes. Todos son iguales. Todos son tus amores. Como siempre, te amo.

Con amor, Keith