How Did I Get So Lucky?

Thank you guys ❤️

I ♡ readers

here’s to the readers who stay up past midnight reading just one more chapter

here’s to the readers who like one fic - so they go through our archive and read everything else

here’s to the readers who are still learning the language of the fic they’re reading, but they’re making it through anyhow

here’s to the readers who are too shy to tell us how much they love our story, so they just tell all of their friends about it instead

here’s to the readers who kudos - and then comment “kudos” when they can’t do it again

here’s to the readers who make rec lists or run fic reccing blogs

here’s to the readers who give out prompts and ask for metas and suggest ideas of things they’d love to see

here’s to the readers who hide their phones so that no one sees what they’re reading, but omg this fic is just so good!

here’s to the readers who keysmash, reaction gif, tag, comment, quote us back to us, and otherwise let us know that they loved our work

here’s to the readers

without you, we don’t exist

Art thief on wish !!

So the other day I was on Wish looking at Voltron items when I stumbled upon some selling other artists art on t-shirts. If anyone knows any of theses artists please inform them as this is just unfair.

The seller goes by the name mayuee00 and no where do they mention who’s art this is or if they were given permission to sell it on tshirts. Please boost this as much as you can what this person is doing isn’t right and their profiting on someone else’s work.

I Like You A Latte

Who doesn’t love a good coffee shop au? Here, have some fluff with my favorite boys.

Keith had never really considered himself to be the type of person to find someone immediately attractive. He didn’t find people attractive in general, just annoying. It was probably why his last few relationships had failed. To be fair, talking about golf tactics while you’re in your early twenties doesn’t exactly scream late night parties and fun dates. Even if the guy was incredibly sweet and a pretty good lay.

Regardless, Keith didn’t exactly believe in that whole love at first sight propaganda. His brother did; it was how he had found his girlfriend of three years. He told the story with doe eyes and a goopy smile that made Keith want to pull his insides out just to have an excuse to save himself from the story again. No, love at first sight was not a thing.

“Hey, buddy, what can I get’cha?”

Until now.

Keith can only stare wide eyed at the glorious Greek God of a man, who was watching him expectantly with a smile that probably was the reason the sun rose every morning. He was taller than Keith by just a bit, his muscular arms peeking out from his black uniform. There was the trace of a tattoo peeking out at his collarbone - not that Keith was looking, God - and another on his wrist.

His blue eyes sparkle with amusement at Keith’s apparent predicament. He leans on the counter, his muscles flexing - somebody in here had to know CPR, Keith hoped, because he was going to need it in a few minutes.

“You know what you want?” He asks, in a voice that lilts with the barest trace of an accent. Keith guesses it’s of Spanish or Latin descent. He doesn’t care, though, because he just wanted this guy to keep talking to him.

“I-I,” Keith splutters, choking on his tongue. “Yes. Yeah, I, uh.” He whips out his phone. Pidge was going to kill him if he got her order wrong for the third time in a row, which was why he’d had her text it to him.

“Um, so, uh… Bear with me here,” He chuckles nervously, scrolling up to the message. “My friend wants a triple venti half-sweet caramel macchiato, but like… not hot.”

The barista blinks, leaning back and running a hand through his hair before looking at the register and starting to punch it in. “Alright… You said venti, right?”

He glances up. Keith swallows his heart and nods.

“And what can I get you?” His fingers are ready for the next ridiculous order, but Keith was unfortunately one to disappoint.

“Um, just a black coffee. One cream, one sugar. Oh, and a coffee cake.” Pidge would kill him if he forgot her coffee cake.

He smiles faintly, tugging Keith’s heartstrings along with it. “Wow. Adventurous, aren’t we?” He takes a break, leaning over the register again. “Okay. Let’s do this. One triple venti half-sweet caramel macchiato, one coffee cake and one black coffee, one cream and one sugar.”

Keith wanted him to talk forever. That voice was doing things to him that should be illegal at this time of day, in this weather. It was freezing outside, he was supposed to be freezing his ass off, not melting from the inside out.

“Yeah. Sounds about right.” He says, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and flipping it open.

“You want your coffee cake hot?” The magnificent angel asks in his glorious voice. Keith was very glad he was a flaming homosexual.

“Um,” He glances over at the door, which had frosted over from the heat that contrasted from the biting cold outside. “No, I think it might freeze if I do that. Pidge would kill me…”

“So I’m guessing you want your hot drink stopped up?” The barista - Keith drops his gaze down to read the Hi, My Name Is Lance! tag - laughs. He could feel his heart fluttering like a bird in his chest. Lance was such a… perfect name. He had never loved a name more in his life.

“Yes, please,” He says helplessly, smiling. “I don’t feel like being castrated today.”

“That would be a shame,” Lance says almost suggestively with a playful wink. “Nineteen fifty-two is your total. Cash or card?”

Keith winces. Pidge owed him one for this. The things he put up with for a good grade in Calculus. He pulls out a twenty, handing it to Lance, and drops his change into the tip jar with an extra dollar.

“Hey, thanks,” The barista lights up. He picks up a couple cups, jotting stuff down on the back and pausing, flicking his electric blue gaze up. “Name?”

“Uh,” Keith was so good at English. “Keith.”

He would swear up and down that Lance smirked at him. It was either that or someone had shocked Keith’s spine to make him shiver. “Great. It should be ready in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Lance.”

The look of surprised happiness on the barista’s face was enough to make his entire week.

***

“You are obsessed.” Pidge remarks dryly, sipping her coffee and looking up at him with amused hazel eyes.

“No!” Keith defends hotly, sipping a pumpkin spice latte that Lance had mentioned were his favorite one afternoon. Not that he cared. Not that he went there every morning looking for the barista with the stunning smile and lilting voice.

“Keith, you hate pumpkin.”

“It’s not so bad…” He mumbles, glancing down at his Calculus textbook, flipping it open. Never had he wanted to actually do his homework so badly.

“Keith,” His best friend reaches over, pulling the bag that held the recommended-by-Lance treat over to herself. She looks down, then back up at him. “You’re drinking pumpkin shit. You’re eating something that actually resembles food, and you literally go to this particular Starbucks every morning to see if you can catch the guy. What’s his name? Lance?”

He flushes hotly, yanking the bag away from her. “I just like that particular Starbucks!”

“Uh huh,” She pushes her glasses up the brim of her nose. “Whatever you say, Gaylord.”

Keith stews quietly for a moment, reading the pages in front of him without actually comprehending any of the symbols. His gaze catches on her cup. He scans the printed out sticker that read the abbreviated version of her drink.

An idea creeps into his head. Keith looks up at his friend a smile playing around the corners of his lips. Pidge looks up, midway through shoveling half her coffee cake in her face.

“What?” She swallows, scowling at her friend. “You’re looking at me funny.”

“I need a favor.”

***

“Hey, Keith!”

Keith can feel himself grow an inch taller at the sound of his name when he walks through the door. He stomps the snow from his boots, looking around the empty store and unwinding his windblown scarf from his neck.

“Hey, Lance.” He grins, looking over at the barista. Lance was leaning over the counter lazily, resting his chin on his arms. That tattoo on his collarbone was tucked away. Keith feels a twinge of remorse. What he would give to see the full picture.

“What can I get you today, Space Cadet?” He teases, straightening up. Keith had made the mistake of telling him he was going to school to become an Aerospace Engineer, so now every day he had a new nickname that was space related.

Keith grins. “I have a new order for you. You ready for this?”

Lance stands up straight, saluting to him with a dopey grin. “Aye, aye, captain!”

He pulls out his phone as he walks over to the counter, clearing his throat. “So Pidge wants a venti caramel macchiato, with skim milk instead of regular, extra shot, extra hot,” He snorts at the rhyme. Lance grins. “Oh, and extra whip.”

The barista punches this into the register, scoffing as he writes down the name and circles a few things on the cup before sticking the order sticker on the cup. “Oh, c’mon, supernova. That wasn’t even hard. I could write that in my sleep.”

“And a coffee cake,” Keith adds with a laugh, blushing at the nickname. That was his favorite so far. “But I think you already knew that.”

“So predictable,” Lance sighs mournfully, poking out his bottom lip in a pout. “Give me a real challenge!”

Keith pauses, opening up his texting app and scrolling to the specific text. He had been blessed with a best friend who used Google Search as both a tool and a weapon. He never wanted to be on her bad side.

“Are you sure? Last chance to back out.”

Lance grins, getting ready to type in everything. “Hit me.”

Keith takes a breath. “Double ristretto venti, half soy, nonfat, decaf, organic, chocolate brownie, iced, vanilla, double shot, gingerbread frap, extra hot, with foam whipped cream, upside down, double blended, with one sweet n low and one nutrasweet and ice.”

The whole store is silent. Even the music was holding its breath. Keith glances up from his phone, clicking it to sleep mode and looking up at the barista. Lance was staring at him with a stricken expression, as though Keith had reached out and smacked him.

“Damn, starshine!” He laughs, rubbing his neck. “I don’t even… I don’t even think that will taste good, buddy.”

Keith grins, pocketing his phone. “I know.”

“But…” Lance hesitates, his blue gaze flicking up to Keith’s, nervous and worried. “You… sure you want that?”

“Fuck no, I don’t want that!” Keith laughs, shaking his head.

“You ass!” Lance groans, rubbing his face. “You nearly made me die, I’m the only one on the floor right now and I don’t even… half of that sounds made up!”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees smugly. “Definitely.”

“You’re so mean.” Lance whines.

“Yeah.” He agrees with another laugh.

Lance studies him, the anxious relief fading from his eyes, replaced by something softer. Keith had to look away, his cheeks heating up. Why did this guy make him feel like goo?

“So what do you actually want?” The barista asks, his gaze surprisingly soft.

You, Keith thinks, but that wasn’t something you could just… say. He settles for another pumpkin spice latte and a bagel sandwich, paying and watching as Lance moves around to effortlessly craft the drinks.

When Keith is walking out, he glances down to see writing on the paper bag that his breakfast was in. He recognized the familiar scrawl, pausing on his route to look down.

You liar, the pretty scrawl reads. There’s a number, Lance’s name under it, with another message underneath it. Here’s what you really wanted.

Hey guys. I was informed today by my mom that she’s been thinking about kicking me out on my eighteenth birthday. My birthday is in just about three months, and while I do have a job, it pays hardly anything with the amount of hours I’m given. Each paycheck is just over $100 USD, and my parents are forcing me to pay them back for textbooks and making me pay for gas to get to school.

I don’t have a car, and I can’t drive yet, so I’m pretty much stuck in my house with no means of transportation and no way to get out. On top of this, I’m a college student and I have been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and major depression. I take medication for this, and they just informed me that I’m going to have to start paying for my medication and my weekly therapy appointments. 

I really hate asking for money. So to reconcile for this, I promise that anyone who pays about $10 USD on either my Ko-fi or PayPal, I’ll write a drabble of whatever that person wants, from about 1k to 2k words. 

Please don’t feel obligated to give, but it would mean the world to me if you guys could help. Even a little bit helps. 

My goal is to move to Canada to be with my girlfriend - the deadline was two years, but now it looks like it might be sooner than that - and moving from California all the way to Ontario is going to be a feat in itself. 

Even if you can’t give, a signal boost would be amazing. Thank you so much for all your love and support.

Pay-pal: https://paypal.me/renywrites

Ko-fi: http://ko-fi.com/renywrites

Thank you!

Calling all lovers of poetry!

Hey guys!

So I'm currently writing/mostly formatting a collection of the poetry I have written for my girlfriend. It's kind of an anniversary present except she knows about it but that's beside the point.

I was wondering if any of you were interested? I'll have to run numbers when I'm finished, but it'll be no more than about 30 pages, and the format I chose starts at $3 USD. I think they would charge shipping.

Let me know if you're interested, and I'll post a link to my book when I've published it! You can like this post if you're somehow too intimidated by me to message me!

Happy new year ☺️

There’s something very nice about remembering fics you read years ago. Maybe you remember the plot perfectly, maybe the rest of the fic is only a blur aside from a handful of vivid scenes, but you remember the way it made you feel. And sometimes you dredge up the memory - the premise or a favourite scene or a few lines that stayed with you -  and your heart aches a little bit, the way it does when you think about books you enjoyed as a child.

To all the fanfiction writers out there: your work is beautiful and meaningful and it leaves an impact. I promise.

weird asks that say a lot

in

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

7. earbuds or headphones?

8. movies or tv shows?

9. favorite smell in the summer?

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

12. name of your favorite playlist?

13. lanyard or key ring?

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

18. ideal weather?

19. sleeping position?

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

21. obsession from childhood?

22. role model?

23. strange habits?

24. favorite crystal?

25. first song you remember hearing?

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

28. five songs to describe you?

29. best way to bond with you?

30. places that you find sacred?

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

32. top five favorite vines?

33. most used phrase in your phone?

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

35. average time you fall asleep?

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

38. lemonade or tea?

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

41. last person you texted?

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

44. favorite scent for soap?

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

47. favorite type of cheese?

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

51. current stresses?

52. favorite font?

53. what is the current state of your hands?

54. what did you learn from your first job?

55. favorite fairy tale?

56. favorite tradition?

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

62. seven characters you relate to?

63. five songs that would play in your club?

64. favorite website from your childhood?

65. any permanent scars?

66. favorite flower(s)?

67. good luck charms?

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

70. left or right handed?

71. least favorite pattern?

72. worst subject?

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

82. pc or console?

83. writing or drawing?

84. podcasts or talk radio?

84. barbie or polly pocket?

85. fairy tales or mythology?

86. cookies or cupcakes?

87. your greatest fear?

88. your greatest wish?

89. who would you put before everyone else?

90. luckiest mistake?

91. boxes or bags?

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

93. nicknames?

94. favorite season?

95. favorite app on your phone?

96. desktop background?

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

98. favorite historical era?

Daily reminder that I’m constantly blown away by the sheer amount of talent and positivity in this fandom and how kind it’s been to me re: my own writing

You guys are all stars ⭐️

Can’t put a Label on Love

“Are you labelling me?”

Lance rued the day that he had brought that stupid labelling device home. Now that they were moving into a house, Keith had made it his God-given duty to label everything. Everything. Lance could hardly put anything in a box before it had something stuck to it.

PUT IN THE KITCHEN was stuck to everything that belonged to the kitchen. It didn’t matter if it was a plate, or a pot, or a salt shaker, or a dishrag. Everything had a label. Keith had been cut off after he’d tried to do it to their clothes. Apparently, he had found the labeller.

“What?” He scoffs, backing away, holding something behind his back. “No. Nope. Not at all. I don’t have the labeller.”

Lance raises an eyebrow. When Keith looks away, his amethyst eyes unable to hold his husband’s gaze - that was a sure sign that Keith was lying; he couldn’t look anyone in the eyes - he twists to see what had been put on his shirt.

“Keith, seriously,” He whines. “I just bought this shirt. It hasn’t even been through the dryer!”

“Sorry, babe.” Keith hums, turning around. He didn’t sound sorry at all. In fact, the only thing Lance could hear was the telltale tapping that had come to haunt his nightmares. He wasn’t afraid of clowns, or of spiders, or anything that might lurk in the shadows. No, it was the damn clicking of that labeller. Apparently his poor subconscious was terrified of one of the most harmless things known to man.

“No, you aren’t.” Lance mumbles, pulling his shirt off. This earns him a wolf whistle. “I get the feeling that you only wanted me to take this off.”

“Maybe.” Keith walks over, leaning down to give him a kiss. “I can’t help it, you have a fantastic body.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He can feel his face growing warm and his ego puffing itself up. My husband thinks I’m hot.

Husband. That was still such a new concept. They had been married for less than a month - the offer they’d made on the tiny house in the middle-of-nowhere-Arizona (exactly where Keith had wanted to be) had gone through on their wedding day. Now, instead of vacationing, they had spent the weeks since in their tiny apartment, packing up everything they owned. It was amazing how much stuff they had managed to pack into this place.

It had been ten years since they’d returned from space. Ten years since Keith had come home with Lance to Cuba, ten years since they had professed their love to one another, ten years since Lance had looked up at the stars and decided that he would give them all to Keith. In a way, he had. They’d saved the universe. Those were a tribute to that.

It had been two since he’d proposed to Keith. Two since he’d taken him aside at a reunion dinner for Voltron, taken him out underneath those same stars, given him a ring and a promise to stay with him for the rest of his life.

Of course, the whole team had been in on it. When they had come back in, both giddy and tearful with the amount of emotion that was flowing through their veins, the simple dinner had turned into so much more. There were sparklers, cake, a giant banner courtesy of Pidge, and enough alcohol to flood the desert they were moving to.

Living in Arizona was going to be a change from the bustling city of New York, but they both despised the cold. Plus Keith had gotten a grudging offer to be an instructor at the Garrison. Not that Lance minded - he loved how excited his husband was to move back to his element.

“Thank you.” Lance mumbles to his husband, looking up and taking in his beauty. He had truly married the best person in the world. Long hair constantly swept into a haphazard bun, scars that traced jagged lines over his body, a firecracker temper, soulful eyes that were often pinched with a frown.

“Yep.” Keith pads into the kitchen, the sound of a label printing off following him. Lance smiles and shakes his head. They were going to have to find some sort of sticker-remover-goo at the store before they left.

He glances down at his shirt, turning it around to read the label. BEST HUSBAND IN THE ENTIRE COSMOS, it read. KEEP CLOSE AT ALL TIMES.

The former Paladin of Voltron smiles, pulling his shirt back on and leaving the sticker. He was the luckiest guy in the world. But now to deal with the labeller situation…

“Babe, come back here with that! You’re on label probation!”

“No!”

There’s a pause, then a shriek of laughter as Lance speeds into the kitchen to wrestle the object from his husband. The snow falls gently outside. Lights were coming on in the City That Never Sleeps. Children were being tucked into bed, people were turning on the nightly news, dishes were being washed, routines were being followed.

But in this tiny, cramped little apartment, the former heroes of the universe were moving on to better things, one label at a time.

Hey as someone whose been kicked out of the house for being gay, I wish u the best of luck, if you live by a university, they have things where you can go try like different products and get paid 30$ for it. Also blood place centers your first five times you get 50$. I lived off selling my blood for weeks. I hope some of this is helpful

Thank you so much. Unfortunately this is without telling my parents I'm gay, so obviously coming out to them is a terrible idea. Thank you for the advice 💜