Not Now Sweetie, Mommy Is Watching How The Massive Girlbossification Of Female Characters Has Led To

Wow I just finished reading this and it's amazing! I loved it and I'm glad I'm not the only one who noticed that the Black Paladin fight was supposed to be about Keith finally accepting Shiro's death and letting him go (I rewatched all of Voltron recently and had the same impression as you basically). Also, thank you for pointing out the foreshadowing for Black Paladin Lance, because I never noticed it and always thought that he was supposed to be always relegated to a supportive role instead... It definitely changed my perspective on it!

Voltron is a Love Story Between Lance and Keith and I Can Prove It

Remember when I posted this?

Well, I bet you thought I was joking, but now I’m gonna put my money where my mouth is.

A few years ago, I made a very shoddily-put-together analysis that I am going to be using the general outline of in the first section of this analysis. I made it kind of in a rush, purely from what I remembered about the show from 7 years ago. There’s a lot I would change about my analysis. First of all, I would spend more time on it, lol. But second, I regret my bad-faith conclusions. I was approaching this idea and the show with some prejudiced opinions about the showrunners, the crew and their ability to tell a story. I regret that now, and I sincerely apologize.

I believe that a good analysis does not dismiss certain choices that the analyst doesn’t like as simply bad writing. I believe that this is a lazy and mean-spirited way of engaging with art. So, I get to do this all over again, removing my previous biases and preconceived notions of what I thought was going on behind the scenes, when in fact I really had no clue, and I am going to try and look at this with fresh, unbiased eyes. I think I made some great points overall, that I am going to add on to here, because on my rewatch I found a LOT more evidence than I initially provided.

It’s gonna take a while, so strap in, get a snack, take breaks if that’s what you need, but we’re gonna do this. I’m going to prove that Voltron is first and foremost about love, but not just any love. Voltron is a love story between Lance and Keith. And I can prove it.

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i support women being weird sexual freaks… people on booktok are just very boring about it

strangers, in the window

Maximilian Liebenwein - The Legend of Saint George: The Rescue (1903)

Do you think about me now, all the time?

I left to protect the person I most love. You.

part 2

❤️ for Jean/Kaeya please!

Thank you for the ask! <3 This got unintentionally long and unintentionally angsty--I went "why not cute teenage shenanigans?" and then thought about. uh. where Kaeya was at backstory-wise as an older teen--but I did have fun writing it!

---

Kaeya's favorite part of Father's parties is probably the chance to see Jean and Diluc dance. It's not the only part he enjoys, but it's the best.

Whenever he gets tired of watching Father manipulate the politics of the Wine Guild, which in many ways are the politics of Mondstadt itself, Kaeya turns his gaze to the dance floor. Diluc and Jean are most often there, sweeping around and around, until they gather up food from the buffet and come to join him by the wall. Kaeya thinks that he *likes* dancing more than they do--but he, the adopted younger son, holds little interest to the sorts who come to these affairs, while both of them, heirs to the city's most powerful families, are much in demand. So they dance, with all the trained-in skill of nobility and all the athleticism of the Knights' best junior officers, and Kaeya watches.

They don't always dance with each other; that way lies rumors that they both find uncomfortable to have bandied about. They meet every three or four songs, though, both visibly relieved to be dancing with someone who won't invade their space or flash too much skin or stomp all over of their feet. Kaeya watches them spin each other around and basks in their relaxed smiles, admiring the confidence with which they move while partnered with someone they trust.

Confidence comes naturally to Diluc, with his early Vision and his subsequent strength and Father's praise and encouragement. It's more difficult for Jean. Kaeya has watched her hide her struggles, well enough that he doubts many people realize she's struggling at all. He's too familiar with keeping secrets, though, for someone with so honest a heart as Jean to conceal them from his gaze. So the confidence he sees in her now, back straight, standing tall, smiling at Diluc as fellow-captain and equal and no longer the junior struggling to be his match, makes him all the gladder. Fond warmth fills him as he studies her smile.

He watches them dance until the song ends, and then turns and starts making his way to the buffet table. He isn't hungry at the moment, but he will be later, and they'll be even more so. Another hour and people will be drunk enough that all three of them can sneak away to a back room and dissect the canapes together.

Before he can start to assemble a plate, though, there's a hand on his shoulder. Turning, Kaeya sees Jean behind him, bright-eyed and flushed with exertion, a light sweat making her skin seem to glow. She smiles at him, that same proud confidence, but even more eager.

"Kaeya! I haven't seen you all evening. Can I talk you into a dance?"

"A dance?" Kaeya stares at her, taken aback. "I was going to get us a plate."

"Diluc can do that for us this time. Please, Kaeya. Honor me with a dance."

Jean holds her hand out to him, but Kaeya still hesitates. Diluc has tried before to get him more dance partners, one way or another. If this is another such attempt--showing the would-be gold-diggers that he's worth Jean's attention, maybe--then he's not sure.... But he does like to dance. And Jean's eager smile is slipping away.

"Of course," he says, bowing over her hand in a deliberately silly exaggeration of Father's smooth gesture and smiling in satisfaction at her giggle. Then, her smile restored, he lets her lead him onto the dance floor.

The song just starting up is exactly his favorite sort: quick and energetic, accompanied by a dance that requires exactly the sort of precision and speed at which he excels. He knows it better than Jean, he quickly realizes, and shifts his grip on her hand and the lean of his body to guide her slightly without dragging her around, which he knows she hates, or stepping on her feet, which anyone would. Jean follows his lead with the same dedicated focus with which she's always followed Diluc's as a knight, determined to learn the same expertise. By the third chorus she no longer needs a guide, matching him exactly, step-by-step.

"You should dance more often," Jean tells him as they move into the last verse of the song. "You're truly very good at it."

"Only when I have such an inspiring partner," Kaeya ventures to tease her, and is rewarded when she giggles, promptly missing a step.

Catching herself, Jean falls back into the rhythm. She draws herself a little closer as the music fades, the two of them swirling to a stop. On the last step, though, she somehow trips on empty air, catching herself on Kaeya before she can fall.

They're in a shadowed corner, fortunately, out of sight of all but the closest couples, none of which are paying her misstep any heed. Kaeya puts his arms around her and takes her weight for a moment while she sorts herself out, trying to ignore the warmth of her pressed against him and the softness of her breasts against his chest. She's his friend; she deserves better than to feature in his inappropriate thoughts.

Instead of pushing away from him as she regains her balance, though, Jean leans closer, their face only inches apart. "I'd be happy to be your partner. Whenever you'd like," she whispers, and leans in. Her lips brush his, soft and warm and faintly sweet-scented from the perfume she's wearing, underlaid with familiar knightly sweat. Kaeya's heart seizes in his chest.

He's an idiot. She hadn't *tripped*.

For a moment he stands there, her lips against his and his arms around her waist, breathing in the scent of her, sweet cecilia and natural sweat. It isn't an inappropriate thought if she meant him to have it, right? She's so warm against him, all soft skin and well-honed muscle, and he thinks of her smile--confident, eager, relaxed--her little giggles, how easy both of them are to bring forth. He likes doing that. He *wants* to do that, as often as he's able. He's never realized that before.

Then, over her shoulder, he catches two familiar faces halfway across the ballroom. Diluc, paused in the act of filling a plate with canapes, smiling with far too much self-satisfaction for something he's not in the least involved in as he looks directly at them; beside him Father, at once calculating and indulgently pleased, following his gaze. Kaeya's stomach drops.

Both of them will feel betrayed enough, someday, when they find out what kind of traitor he is. He can't add Jean to their number. Straightening up, Kaeya lets go of her and pushes her gently back, hands on her shoulders as if to steady her, and makes himself smile politely down at her wounded expression.

"This was more than enough dancing for me. Diluc makes by far the better partner for you, anyway."

Jean swallows hard, her lip trembling, eyes damp with what Kaeya is terribly afraid are tears. Then she blinks, once, and draws herself up, covering it not with a false smile of her own but with a Gunnhildr's knightly composure.

"I understand. I will not trouble you to dance with me again."

She turns towards the table, starting that way, though from the side Kaeya can see her deliberately evading Diluc's now-confused gaze. He watches her go a moment longer, his resolve shaky. He's hurt her, and he didn't want to do that. He doesn't want to hurt anyone he loves.

But he doesn't have any choice in that. He never has. The only options were to break her heart now or later, and now is kinder, right? For them both. Kaeya turns away, heading blindly for the back rooms of the mansion, not to meet her and Diluc for canapes and casual conversation this time but to hide away until Jean leaves. And to try and forget the feeling of her mouth on his, the warmth of her lips still lingering upon his own.

Ralph Fleck (German, 1951), Stapel 27/VII [Stack 27/VII], 2013. Oil on canvas, 120 x 100 cm.

Simon Leclerc