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#<3 lance
heynhay · 2 months
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ok. Im sure everyone and their mom has read this fic by the talented mothpoem already bc its so incredible. But that didn't stop me from cooking up nine pages of a gorgeous excerpt from it!
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lefty-draws02 · 4 months
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Galtean Klance 🫠🫠
i couldn’t choose which one i liked better so here’s both!! ✨
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bleh1bleh2 · 2 months
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Leg Privileges 🦵
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rocketbirdie · 5 months
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guess what i learned yesterday.
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klance-daydreams · 2 months
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and honestly i can’t believe i get to call you mine….
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leenfiend · 2 months
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a sunday funny (on a friday) for @mintcaboodle for no special reason at all
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wardingshout · 3 months
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Viridian trainers for day 5 of spesilverweek! they are my most beloved but Lance is a cursed character who is impossible to draw or portray in any way to me
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alienpigpen · 4 months
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Me, baffled that Astarion isn't a more commonly completed romance: ???
My non-tumblr friends: "Yeah he shot me down at the tief party" "what no of course I don't let him bite me" "ugggh he's impossible to get approval with and still be a good person" "I have no idea what he wants" "He just randomly broke up with me in Act 3 bc I didn't get his approval high enough in Act 2 and I'm not going back that far."
My Tav, a chaotic goodboy cleric who has never faced anything short of total adoration and devotion from Astarion: "Did I just get an A in vampire smooching?"
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calmparticles · 3 months
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Happy new year 1997! 🎉🍾
I'm meaning. 2023.9999999999999999999!!!!!!! 🎉🍾
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mdoodlerfandomart · 6 months
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a kiss!
and a bonus Keith looking into the pond/fountain/water:
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part 01 part 02
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punkcornzero · 11 months
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heynhay · 3 months
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I was @callmelyc ‘s secret Santa this year hehe and I latched onto the “BAMF klance” prompt🥸
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http-kogane · 4 months
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screencap redraw of my guy ☆ ~('▽^人)
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soadscrawl · 13 days
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i heard this clip and immediately thought of klance. pray for my man keith fr
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lewdo · 1 year
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Fernando Alonso and Lance Stroll after the Bahrain Grand Prix
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autisticlancemcclain · 4 months
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this is how it started
———
This is how it continues: Keith holds his hand all the way to breakfast.
In itself not incriminating. Lance holds Hunk’s hand all the time. He’s always got an arm around Pidge’s shoulder. Shiro is amused by Lance’s incessant attempts to have them skip about with their arms linked. Sometimes he offers his arm to Allura with the poshest expression he can muster, just to make her laugh. Not all of his attempts are entertained by his friends, of course, but there’s nothing novel about Lance attaching himself to people as they move about.
Keith reaching out, as they walk out of the bedroom they just shared, and linking their hands together easy as pie is, however, novel.
Everything is so bizarre. It’s worsened, really, after a night of decent sleep (in a real genuine mattress!), because it’s just not what Keith and Lance…do. They race each other to doorways, yanking on hoods or sticking out legs to trip and get ahead. They escalate from light shoving to full on wrestling in the middle of conversations. Keith is not exempt from Lance’s constant need to touch, sure, but it’s never — like this. Light, easy, comfortable, familiar.
(It was, briefly, at the end. When on their way to meetings and briefings and missions even Keith’s hand would rest on the small of Lance’s back. Absentmindedly. Unnoticeable. But a he left a week after it started, and as far as he’s concerned anything started in that era has long since been left behind them.)
They’re late — the rest of the team has already gathered. Pidge and Allura are half asleep on either of Shiro’s shoulders, and Coran and Hunk are arguing intensely but playfully about a pile of unrecognisable goo that Lance has learned to recognise as the space version of oatmeal. Hunk pokes it in disgust. Coran feigns outrage.
All five faces turn to them as they approach, and Lance can’t place a single one of their expressions. He is made suddenly aware that he has loosened his grip on Keith’s hand when he feels him squeeze three times, quickly in succession.
“…Huh,” Shiro says after a moment, eyes trained on their clasped fingers. His face is carefully blank. No one else offers any commentary.
“How’d y’all sleep,” Keith asks, pulling out a chair. Lance realizes after a beat that it’s meant for him, and he flushes up to his ears. He tugs his hood over his head and nearly upends the table in his haste to melt into the offered chair. Keith, in contrast, sits down next to him and rests an arm over the back of Lance’s chair so smoothly it has to be practiced.
Pidge makes a choking noise, cheeks puffed up like she barely managed to keep her mouth shut. Hunk has both hands clapped over his mouth.
“Shut the fuck up,” Lance hisses, face redder than his lion.
Keith’s fingers brush his shoulder. He sinks further into his chair and tugs his hood down lower.
“I slept exceptionally,” Allura says loudly. The look she cuts Lance’s way is straight-up evil, and Lance knows what’s coming, and for several agonizing seconds he considers grabbing the spoon from the goo bowl and stabbing it straight through his eye. “The beds were very comfortable, didn’t you find, Keith?”
You are so dead to me, Lance thinks at her. He even thinks i’m in Altean so the fury can reach her properly.
“Yeah.” Keith leans over to press a kiss to his cheek. Lance’s face gets exponentially redder, and the peanut gallery starts screeching quietly, but despite himself he — leans. Into it. And Keith notices, because his mouth curves into a smile, and he presses another kiss to the curve of Lance’s jaw before pulling away. “Slept right for the first time in two years.”
“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Shiro says, reminding Lance once again that he is, in fact, Lance’s hero, actually, last few months notwithstanding. He shoots Lance a fond, teasing smile, then turns back to Keith. “My question is: what the fuck?”
“Seconded,” Pidge agrees through a mouthful of goo.
Hunk grimaces at her. She shoves three more bites of goo into her mouth then opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue at the yellow paladin, just to be disgusting. With a scandalized “gross, Pidge!” Hunk shoves chair away and marches to the other side of the table, leaving Pidge sniggering.
Keith watches the whole thing with a smile on his face soaked in so much sadness Lance’s chest physically aches with it. He darts out a hand and wraps it around Keith’s, squeezing it in a mirror of the way he did before. Keith smiles gratefully at him, pulling up his hand and kissing the back of it. Somewhere, Lance hears someone mutter: “Christ alive.”
“There was a — shipwreck, of sorts,” Keith explains eventually. His voice is soft. “Krolia and I flew too close to something. Our intel was outdated. When we finally made it out of the wreckage we were stranded on the back of a space whale, and time was…stretchy.”
“That explains so very little,” Shiro says, shaking his head. He stabs his spoon in some goo. “Space has done little but piss me off in the last couple years, if I’m being honest. Keith, I swear to God I’m going to ground you.”
Keith grins. “Fat chance, old man. I outrank you now.”
“That’s what you think.”
Lance watches them both critically as they argue. Well, ‘argue’. They’re both grinning too hard for any real animosity. And exhaustion still lines Shiro’s features, and he still leans onto Allura for support, but there’s a brightness in his eyes that’s been missing for months. And Keith is —
Keith is here, leaping to his feet, spoon of goo bared dramatically, and he is tired too but he is warm and soft, somehow, and the weight that Lance has always watched on his shoulders seems to have lifted. There is an easiness to him now that there wasn’t before. And Lance notices and cannot stop noticing, because he is beautiful, and because for some reason he has decided to plant himself next to Lance, closer than before, and bleed his warmth. And Lance is supposed to be the lighthearted one and the joking one and the easy one. That is his role. That is what he knows how to play.
But he’s been struggling. And the role has not come easy. And last night he had cried until he slept in Keith’s arms and Keith had held him and checked the room and kissed his hair and has yet to let go of him.
Lance looks at Keith and thinks to himself: maybe just this one thing.
Keith reaches half over the table and musses his brother’s hair, pushing him back into Allura’s careful hold and sitting heavily back in his own seat. He frowns, staring at the space that has grown between his chair and Lance’s during his roughhousing. Slowly, he reaches over and grabs the bottom rung of Lance’s chair, dragging him over until the space between them has disappeared, then he nods once to himself, satisfied, and throws an arm around Lance’s shoulders, pulling him even closer.
And Lance thinks to himself: oh, God.
For a moment Lance is tense. He feels the stares of the rest of the team, teasing and interrogating all at once. He can already anticipate their questions, probably on par with his own.
Keith rests his cheek on top of Lance’s head.
“You good?”
Suddenly, none of that seems to matter. He thinks to himself: I need to sit him down and ask what the hell is going on.
Keith’s thumb starts to gently brush back and forth on the cusp of his shoulder.
He says: “I am now.”
This is how he lets it continue.
———
this is how it ends
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