Chapter Text
You see, it all started like this.
It was a Monday, a sweet, innocently miserable Monday, and Lance was doing his typical Monday Shit (aka frankly incredible procrastination). He had trudged through his Biology lab, had fought his demons during his Statistics quiz, and was now tucked in the corner of the library, Monday Shitting.
He ignored his pile of readings and hefty to-do list, and was idly scrolling through Twitter slumped over his textbook. He pressed his cheek against the cool hardcover, sighing through his nose as he swiped past a couple cat videos, a few clips from a local open mic night, and then hovered over a funny tweet.
He allowed a little amused inhale, and continued scrolling.
A couple of girls were giggling a couple of tables over. A guy across from Lance was near tears looking over what looked like indecipherable computer code. The Starbucks was humming with energy, everyone getting their 8 PM fix.
It was normal, steady, even. The last moment of peace within Galra University.
And then. The girls’ giggling grew louder, one of them not able to hide a snort. Lance looked over, curious and eager to continue his Monday Shit, and watched the girls peer at one of their phones with reddening faces.
Computer Code Guy was no longer staring hopelessly at a wall of code and instead was typing feverishly. Lance watched with awe as he pulled up Tumblr.
Lance was stupefied. He thought Tumblr was dead, or at least something that you didn’t necessarily expose to the entirety of a library floor. His Twitter was left open and forgotten on his phone as Lance watched the guy leap from one tab to another before opening up Galra University’s, alternatively GU, alternatively alternatively Get fUcked, Tumblr page.
He winced. That was just embarrassing. GU’s Tumblr page was just a weak attempt to get more students interested in football games and club meetings. Anyone could add to it, students trying to push their fundraisers or events, but the page was mostly ignored.
Lance sat up, rolled his neck, only to see another student on the same exact page. And they were laughing .
Cautiously, Lance rose from his seat, peering over the ducked heads and shaking shoulders and seeing that almost everyone in the room had pulled up GU’s Tumblr.
He blinked once, twice, certain he was hallucinating.
His phone buzzed and it took a moment for Lance to peel his gaze away from the insanity to see that Pidge had put a message in the group chat they had with Hunk.
PidgeON: tell me you guys saw it
Lance dropped back into his seat, fumbling to respond.
Hunky: i couldn’t have missed it if I wanted to. My entire lab is talking about it.
??? What did I miss??
Pidge’s respond was immediate.
PigdeON: Lance. Get on GU’s Tumblr right now.
Lance quickly followed orders, though he had the dignity to tilt his laptop screen away from his fellow students. He pulled up the page, to see that the top post was damn near a dissertation and was posted only an hour ago.
He clocked the numbers and gaped. 3,003 likes, 211 comments, 593 reblogs. In an hour .
The username was just a mess of letters, clearly a keysmash for privacy.
Quickly, he began to read.
Dear Reader,
I have been attending this godforsaken prison for nearly three years, and I must say I have a bone or two to pick with the higher ups. The question is: where the fuck do I begin?
For starters, I begin my day walking my half-asleep ass to The Lazy Bean (the last shred of goodness in this lawless waste of space). If I have time, I drink my coffee and lament my tuition being ripped from the very seam of my asshole and funneled into this hellscape, all while sitting on a bench next to a statue of very ugly, very old, very racist John McClenny. As I have my daily stare-down with those dead, metal eyes, I find myself wondering, sweet reader, when exactly someone will take a shovel to the back of McClenny’s metal head and begin dismantling our university’s scandalous love affair with the most problematic donors they could possibly find. I’m looking at you, President Zarkon, kindly remove your hand from the Republican Party’s dick. This is a liberal arts college for God’s sake.
Students of Galra University, take a walk around campus. Sneak into one of the tours and see how many times those poor tour leaders have to dance around the fact that nearly every bronze statue, all shining with noses, chins, or foreheads rubbed gold due to stupid superstitions, are artifacts of hate crimes and intolerance. Or at least turn your superstitions into something more amusing. Let’s all start a trend where if you give good ol’ white supremacist Jacob Blair’s metal crotch a handy, you’ll ace your final. Just an idea, I’m full of them.
Well, my coffee cup is empty and McClenny is staring down over my shoulder at my phone disapprovingly, so I’ll end this letter here. Perhaps I’ll write another. Maybe about how the highly esteemed President’s son, Lotor Zarkon, evidently believes he is still in the 1960s judging by how he treats women.
Sincerely,
(you must think I’m fucking nuts if you are expecting me to give my name)
Just call me a concerned citizen with a weeping wallet
Lance couldn’t help chuckling as he finished reading the post, grinning as he imagined the panic that must have been going on in the administration office.
PidgeON: isn’t it a masterpiece? Our own Shakespeare, within these walls.
Hunky: I can’t believe whoever it is had the guts to put it on the school page. It’ll be deleted within the hour.
PidgeON: yes, dear Hunk. But remember, the Internet lasts forever.
Lance was still smiling as he scrolled through the comments, seeing that the concerned citizen had amassed a fleet of supporters with only one letter. Who knows what would bring if they wrote another?
So. That’s how the chaos began.