Lezard Vs. Lotor

At last he was here—the crossroads between the imaginations of Michelle and Rachael. He spent a lot of time in the fantasy worlds of both authors, and he rather enjoyed his high status there. They lavished him with the attention he deserved, and best of all, they enjoyed writing ravishing sex scenes between himself and Lenneth.

Rachael had always been a difficult patroness, flitting from one pairing to the next, picking and choosing participants like so many hors d’oeuvres at a cocktail party. Michelle, on the other hand, was as loyal to her OTP as he was to Lenneth, patiently writing her stories with the sincere adoration of a priestess, composing long, epic ballads where Lezard, by fair means or foul, always managed to woo Lenneth into his embrace. Oh, she might occasionally dabble into other pairings, but the lion’s share of her devotion belonged to Lezard and Lenneth, and them alone.

Until now.

He had to pity her, really. These fangirls were so fickle. All it took was a handsome face, a smooth, sexy voice, and a personality which catered to their particular fetishes—intelligence and insanity for Rachael, obsessiveness and possessiveness for Michelle—and they were ready to bow down and kiss the ground upon which he tread.

But still! To have her turn away to write fanfiction for that creature that neither looked nor acted like him! To see nothing but the back of her head as she typed away at a computer, working at a story he knew wasn’t for him! Too feel himself being pushed further and further back into her mind, only to resurface in those freaky dreams where he was playing water polo with giant pandas! It was all too much for him to bear!

It was then that Lezard decided he would have to confront the true culprit, the one who had turned the head of his most loyal benefactress.

He was called Lotor, Prince of Doom, an evil, stuck-up, spoiled-rotten prince if ever there was one. Oh, yes, Lezard knew his type very well. He reckoned Lotor was a little like Odin: those creepy, greedy eyes, the endless harem of slave girls, the tendency to throw a temper tantrum when things didn’t go his way. Yes, Lezard hated princes from the bottom of his heart. Fangirls always went ga-ga for them, and he could never see why.

The time had at last come for him to encounter this abomination, and to demand that he give back some of Michelle’s precious writing time and resources. Lotor would surely see his side of things, and if he didn’t, well, Lezard had a great deal of spells handy.

It was a difficult journey. Imaginations were difficult to wade through, because if the owner was thinking someone or something else, it would be difficult to get past that object of their attention. And so Lezard fumbled through the maze of cats, words, food, the Village People, video games, half-formed notions of what online friends looked like, and tomorrow. When text began to flood the area, and he saw words like “Allura” and “harem,” he knew he was getting close.

Finally he broke through, gasping as though he had been underwater. As he stumbled about to regain his bearings, he caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t Lenneth’s silver, but rather the disgusting color of deathly pallor, freezing snow, and maggots.

However, he decided the best thing was to try a diplomatic approach first—after all, it would be such a bother to fight this man. Perhaps Lotor would do the right thing and bow out when he realized Lezard was not going to hand over Michelle’s time so easily.

“Excuse me, my good sir.”

The alien prince turned, saw the intruder, and sneered. Yes, Lezard thought, this was him all right: the blue-skinned, white-haired, yellow-eyed mistake of nature. And Mysty called Lezard a freak.

Lotor finally spoke, his voice like nails on a chalkboard to Lezard. “Ah, yes. You’re that poor wizard that Michelle used to write about.”

Poor wizard? Did this thing actually feel sorry for him? Lezard’s temper was flaring, but he forced it back down. Stay calm. Release your anger later. It’ll be even more exciting after being bottled up like this.

“I am here to make a simple request,” Lezard said. “I ask that you back off from Michelle’s thoughts and go make some time for other fangirls. Not only is it more fair to them, but I shall regain my proper place as Michelle’s most favored villain.”

Lotor sneered. “Your ‘proper’ place? You should know, I have occupied a decent spot in Michelle’s imagination since she was a child. I have been a resident far longer than yourself. You just don’t realize it because you’re so new. This is hardly the first time Michelle has devoted such time and effort to pray at my shrine. Why don’t you be a good little child and go back to the imagination of whomever is currently burdened with the task of providing for you?”

That was it. Lezard tossed aside any hopes of this going peacefully at the phrase “good little child.” How dare this bastard talk down to him!? Who did he think he was?

“I am frankly surprised you have the hubris to talk that way,” Lezard seethed. “Your career has ended, Lotor. And in a most tragic way, I fear. Tragic…and humiliating. Then, they mangled you so badly for a remake that they had to get Tim Curry, the guy who plays a creepy transvestite doctor, to do your voice!”

“That’s enough!” Lotor stood up, slapping his hands angrily onto his desk. “If it’s a mud-slinging contest you want, I will gladly oblige. But here, I think you would be at a disadvantage, as Michelle is currently writing a story where Allura becomes my bride.”

Lezard knew a jab when he heard one, and he ground his teeth together furiously. Oh, his hatred had risen to a boiling point now.

“Allura,” he sneered. “Now that is a pathetic excuse for a woman if ever there was one. She can’t even fight correctly! And she’s been captured by you how many times? And yet you always seem to lose her to Mr. I’ll-Form-the-Head.”

Now it was Lotor’s turn to grind his teeth in utter hatred. “You dare laugh at my beloved Allura? And the one you chase is…Lenneth? That is her name, correct?” He sneered, tossing his maggot-colored hair over his shoulder. “She’s rather…manly, is she not? Talking in a deep voice, using masculine parts of speech…I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to say she’s more masculine than you are!”

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: I will now be describing this not from Lezard’s point of view, but from the point of view of a very excited fangirl.)

The pleasant sound of leather squeezing together filled the air as Lezard clenched his fists. His deep purple eyes filled with fiery determination. “Masculine? If you think she is masculine, then you clearly never had a notion of masculinity in the first place. Lenneth is a valkyrie, you pitiful fool. Of course she has to be tough and know how to fight. What’s the matter, Lotor? Prefer your women completely helpless as you push their powerless heads into your lap?”

Lotor’s gorgeous eyes, the color of amber, narrowed slightly. “You sickening, foul fiend. I love Allura. Can you truly say you have similar feelings for Lenneth, when all you can do is go on about how you want to ‘become one’ with her?”

“That is proof that I love her, you slime! You just wanted to get her into your bed. I wanted…” Lezard’s eyes shone and his cheeks flushed. “I wanted to become her heart, her soul, her flesh and blood itself!”

“That’s creepy,” Lotor said flatly. “At least I have some sense of pride. I want to maintain my identity and the ability to provide Allura with mind-numbing, earth-shattering pleasure every day of her life.”

“She can’t stand the sight of you!” Lezard snapped. “And I can’t blame her, honestly! You look like…like…Rufus’s evil twin!”

It may occur to the reader, at this point, to wonder how Lezard and Lotor know about each other’s respective fandoms? The truth is that these two bishounen had been anticipating this showdown for quite a while. It was only a matter of time before they went head to head, so they had prepared themselves for it.

“Yes, you do!” Lezard continued as Lotor’s frown grew more pronounced. “The same long, girly hair…the same pale, sickly skin…and you’ve got elf ears!”

Lotor cringed, the truth of his paternity not a happy subject. Fortunately, our darling necromancer had chosen that moment to take his glasses off to clean them, and thus did not see this expression of dismay, which lasted for less than a second. By the time Lezard was able to look the Prince of Doom in the eye again, he had completely composed himself.

“I do not know why you fancy yourself so popular,” Lezard continued. “I had not even heard of you until my geekier friends”—Mystina and Arngrim were both fans of the Voltron series, and Mystina was even a rabid fangirl of Lotor, which pissed Lezard off all the more—“forced me to become aware of your existence.”

Lotor had had quite enough with Lezard’s browbeating, and his eyes seemed red-hot, even though they were still their natural golden color. “What do you mean, ‘fancy myself’? I was big in the 80’s!”

“Yes, well, you know what else came from the 80’s?” Lezard sneered. “E.T.! That creepy little alien thing! And yet the women all loved him! It must be animal magnetism! Either that, or they feel so sorry for you they—”

Suddenly, Lotor drew his sword and swung it at Lezard, the latter jumping away at the last minute. “That’s enough out of you!”

Lezard smiled as he prepared a fire spell. “I was waiting for things to get physical. How about it, then? A no-holds-barred, all out fight, nothing held back, just the two of us. Winner gets to be number one in Michelle’s imagination from now on, and the loser has to retreat to those of yaoi fangirls.”

A smarter man might have refused the dare. But Lotor’s ego was as big as Lezard’s, and he had an unhealthy amount of pride to back it up. Perhaps he could prove himself worthy of Allura’s affections if he defeated Lezard Valeth in a one-on-one fight. Such logic seems absurd to people like you and me, but remember that villains operate on a different wavelength than the rest of us. Besides, who are we to complain when we know there might be some delicious fan service in store?

“Fire Storm!”

This time it was Lotor’s turn to dodge. Years of training on the planet Doom, as well as plenty of experience fighting those pansy good guys and killing underlings had developed his strength and speed immensely.

“Interesting,” Lezard mused. “So you can dodge spells. Then the your little ‘Doom’ planet knows about magic?” He growled, irritated that this beautiful man could dodge his attack. “What kind of a name is ‘Doom,’ anyway!? It is so unfortunate! I am surprised it has not been destroyed yet!”

“And what type of a name is Lezard?” Lotor pointed his long, thick sword at Lezard accusingly. “What are you, a lizard?”

Lezard began to grit his teeth together. Nobody called him a lizard and got away with it. Nobody.

“Fire Lance!”

Lotor jumped back again, but some of the flames caught his sleeve. He shouted angrily and hit the floor, stop, dropping, and rolling like they had taught him at Doom Elementary. But when he stood back up, most of his shirt had burned away, exposing his manly chest, his smooth stomach, and his deep purple nipples.

It was around this time that Rachael and Michelle showed up to watch the show. Both blushed when they saw the shirtless Lotor.

“So…who do you think’s going to win?” asked Rachael.

Michelle shrugged. “I don’t know, but I hope Lotor gets in at least one decent—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Lotor lept forward again with a sharp yell, slashing his blade across Lezard’s chest. Both women gasped.

Lezard had dodged just quickly enough to avoid the blade. His clothes, however, had not been so fortunate. Now he was also shirtless. Slimmer than Lotor, he still proved more than adequate in the arts of magic. This would be a true contest of ATK vs. MAG.

“Lightning Bolt!”

Lotor quickly held up his sword, effectively reflecting the spell.

“Reflect Sorcery!” Lezard was quick enough to raise the shield, hoping it would bounce back at Lotor again, but apparently magic could only be reflected once. “Auuurrrrgh!”

The Drule Prince began to laugh loudly and triumphantly. “You fool! Done in by your own magic! Whose end is humiliating now?”

“This is nothing,” grunted Lezard. “I think it’s time we end this!” He closed his eyes and began to chant.

“No mercy for the damned. Thus thou hast no escape from the grasp of catastrophe! METEOR SWARM!”

The authors screamed and covered their heads. In the sky, gigantic meteors appeared to crush everyone in the entire arena. It looked like both Lotor and Lezard, two of the best-looking young (or young-looking) men the world of fandom could ever ask for, were going to be crushed by their own foolishness.

“Reflect Sorcery!”

Lezard’s eyes widened. That voice! But it couldn’t be…

“Lenneth!” he cried happily as his meteors bounced uselessly off the gigantic mega-shield she had created. “You saved us!”

She glared at him, then at Lotor. “Your sins lay heavy upon both of you! Destroying countless lives, wreaking havoc upon different worlds, stealing the spotlight from the righteous…”

“You shall be obliterated!” came another voice.

Now it was Lotor’s turn to look excited. “It’s…It’s you!” He began to ran toward the source of the voice. “My beloved Allura!”

Then, to an incredibly cheesy yet catchy blast of music, to which a voice shouted, “FORM FEET AND LEGS! FORM ARMS AND BODY! AND I’LL FORM THE HEAD!”

“Holy shit!” shrieked Lezard. “Is that that…that thing!?” He covered his ears. “It’s huge!”

“Dampen Magic!” Lenneth cast the spell just in time for Lezard’s Earth Grave to to pffft.

Clang! Using a sword she had borrowed from Lenneth, Allura quickly disarmed Lotor, who was distracted by Lezard’s screams.

“Damn!” Lotor began to back away. “It seems the powers of the mind and annoying voices have stopped me for now! But know this—I will have my revenge!”

“You will pay!” added Lezard as he and Lotor ran like crazy. Rachael and Michelle were disappointed they didn’t stay longer, but already interesting ideas for ways to use both men in fanfiction were beginning to form in their heads.

“Wow!” said Jelanda as she jumped out of the pilot’s seat. “I didn’t think they’d fall for a fake Voltron!”

“How was my impression of that pansy boy, Keith?” asked Lucian, ignoring Allura’s irritated gaze.

“Lucian, go away,” Lenneth commanded him. “Allura and I need some…girl time.”

Lucian sadly walked away.

Lenneth turned to Allura. “Well, that was enjoyable.”

“Yes!” agreed Allura. “I had no idea saying ‘You shall be obliterated!’ could be so…empowering.”

They began to walk out of the arena.

“You know,” Lenneth told her, “you can’t let that Lotor guy run things. You have to control him, let him know who’s in charge. You can’t let people like him run wild.”

“Of course not.” Allura smiled. “Would you like some tea, Lenneth?”

“Maybe an ale for me.”

“Very well. You know, that Lezard fellow was pretty creepy.”

“Isn’t he?”

Michelle and Rachael looked on, stunned, then both remembered they had fanfiction to work on. Hopefully, Michelle had enough material to put together a story with Lezard—you know, to prevent this kind of tragedy from happening again.

Meanwhile, in a bar outside the imaginations of either author…

“Honestly, Lezard,” slurred Lotor, “I have no idea what to do. I’m at my wit’s end. I’ve tried kidnapping, coercion, breaking and entering…It just doesn’t work. And my father didn’t love me!” He hiccuped and wiped a tear from his eye. “Can you believe that?”

“Dads suck, man.” Lezard took another big drink from his mug. “I mean, mine wasn’t even around for my first necropsy. Can you belive that? Fucking bastard! And yeah, I hear ya on trying to score with the women. No matter how many replicas I make of her, no matter how many times I lie and kill and maim, she’s like, ‘Lezard, stop!’ What more’s it gonna take before she realizes I’d only do that for someone I love?”

“Women are imp-posible to understand. Trust me on this.” He shifted out of his bar stool. “I gotta take a leak.”

“Less have another round!” growled Lezard as he pointed at the bartender. “C’mon, I’m payin’!”

“You can’t possibly expect to pay of your tab with these cheap, plastic figurines of some angry lady!” the bartender insisted. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“NO!” Lezard slammed his fist on the bar. “Michelle loves me! She really really loves me! And Rachael loves me too! And Nichole loves me, and Zaftgirl loves me, and…and even Jamie loves me a little! I think.”

“Damn right!” agreed Lotor as he returned, his fly still open. “This here’s a good fellow! He picked me up when I was down and…and he’s gonna make a great hero for a fanfic by Michelle…and Rachael starts to like me too! She can write me for a while! Lezard, you deserve Michelle and Nichole and Rachael and every other author that writes about you! Because you’re the best necromancer in the…in the world, in this world, and I mean it!”

“I love you!” blurted Lezard, and the two men hugged before collapsing on the floor, sobbing.

“You see this?” Lezard turned around to look at you. “Me’n Lotor, here…we’re gonna be the best of buds from now on.” He didn’t even notice as Lotor passed out with his face in his lap, because he’s too busy convincing you of how awesome villains like him and Lotor and every other hot, bad boy bishounen loved by fangirls all across the world.

Go on. Give yourself over to the fandom, either one, of two of the sexiest men to ever exist.

You know you want to.

By Rachael

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