Dirty Laundry Voltron Novels & Stories

"Who knows how many dry-cleaning cycles it will take to get graveyard funk out of your soul? I’m gonna need a silkwood shower and probably soak myself in bleach. Twice.” Dante looked down at his bare chest, his arms, and turns them over like he's inspecting them for contamination. If you asked anyone who knew Dante Zerok to describe him in a few words, half would say "Unserious energetic, and annoyingly neat" and the other half would say "clean and effortlessly charming." Not just clean—obsessively clean. They weren't wrong.

He stated, directing the last part at me. "Carlo will tell you. I'm going to get ready." I didn't wait for a response from either of them before I stood up and walked toward my closet. I didn't necessarily need to get ready as I was already ready an hour ago, but I needed a cold shower to clear my head. There were too many thoughts running through my brain at that moment and I needed to have a clear head if I wanted to strike a deal with the Vlads. Well, I actually wanted to use them, but they didn't need to know that.

The color returned to Sam’s sleeve, but the fabric was scorched. "We can't fight them all, Kaima!" Rowan yelled, pointing down the street. Dozens of canisters were opening. Dozens of grey figures were stepping out onto the asphalt. And behind them, the massive white vans were deploying "Clean-Up Drones"—spinning, bladed discs that hummed with a lethal frequency. "We don't have to fight them all," I said, looking at Sam’s phone. "We just have to change the **Signal**." ---

Seeing as his attacks could do nothing, Wilbur began performing a series of gestures instead. Chained Lightning, the Infernal Thunder Dragon, and Thunder Bombs hurtled over one after the other. The air rumbled with deafening explosions, causing rampant spiritual energy to flow wildly. The barrier remained undamaged. Kolton's body had been completely fused into what looked like a disgusting blob of flesh. All of a sudden, Sandy and Lilian's screams of fury rang through the air. "What are you doing?" Wilbur turned around coldly. "Can't you see?"

The power the blade had behind it, sent him flying backwards towards the portal that was closing rapidly. “NO! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE! YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE I WILL SEE TO THAT!” Dravin yelled as he blasted Mylan and Lateri, then dropped kicked Clytius. Dravin looked around and saw that there was nothing left he could do, so he blinked out of existence. He had to go and finish preparing his plan to get the baby, she was more important than fighting those less worthy of his time.

Both were panting before giggling but before they could open the door somebody was already opened it for them. “I won.” Ashlyn stated while controlling her pant. “No, I won.” Vladimir countered as they both didn’t realize that the door was already opened by Ashlyn’s mother. “You both did and clean up. Both of you covered with their blood.” Luna Serenity might be smiling at them but she totally didn’t like that they were covered with fallen rogues' blood. It was disgusting that made Ashlyn and Vladimir shiver. “Yes, mom.” Ashlyn immediately answered and dashed inside toward her bedroom to clean up. She sensed her mother’s disgusted aura of what they were covered off.

she muttered in guttural tones between wretches. Tristan stopped and gently put her down. Without saying a word, he removed his vomit ridden shirt and wipe the remains from his flesh. He used his sense of smell to analyze the vomit as best he could. She wasn’t morphing, as he’d feared might be happening. So, what could be the matter? He lamented over his lack of experience with surface humans. They were turning out to be very different from those of inner-earth.

We covered our mouths and noses with towels and wash cloths as best we could as we prepared to go outside in the Dirt storm. I wondered what I might find out there. What sort of regret or sin or mistake would the Dirt manifest for me? I’d done bad things in my life, of course. Everyone has. But in my thoughts I didn’t have one that stood out among the rest, haunting me like Jonie having to kill a 14-year-old girl because she was possessed by an eldritch god, or Mont sacrificing some of his own comrades for personal survival, or leaving my own parallel universe self stranded in a foreign universe. What would the Dirt bring to life from the past of Carl Leighton?

And her children were waking it up. As Seven finalized the deal for the truck, a distant roar echoed from the north not of engines, but of a massive, synchronized movement. The Sterling "Cleanup" crews were coming, and they weren't using machines. They were using the "Failed Models"; hundreds of Lucian-lookalikes, stripped of their personalities, acting as a single, mindless tide.

“I got it.” Justin pries a beauty blender out of Jack’s hands and hurries out of the room, closing the door behind him. With a sigh, I drop to my knees. One of my blushes is cracked, but it’s one I hardly ever use since it’s too red for my skin tone. The eye shadow pallet was new and thank goodness survived. I zip everything up and put it in the closet, closing the door behind me. I throw on leggings and a bra and go downstairs for coffee, which I desperately need. Libby is having a meltdown about not wanting to go potty, and Jack is screaming because he wants to go back into my room.