I wanted to draw them together so bad (And since on my last DA ship poll the winner was Lapidot….) and litterally drew their poses 4 or 5 times before I nailed it (drawing short Peri holding Lapis is harder than I thought).
Now I’m soooo glad I finished it but my eyes are burning now :d They were fun to draw tho, especially Lapis (I felt a great satisfaction while coloring her hair ;-;)…
Oh and, yeah. That’s not the last Lapidot fanart you’ll see from me. The more I see them the more I ship them :>
So you know how Lincoln was introduced in season 2, but then nothing really romantic happened with him and Daisy until season 3. Could that happen with Robbie in season 5?? Like boy portals on to the scene and bam! Quakerider?!
Thought: Altean Lance AU where the first thing he sees is Hunk peering at the cryopods, trying to figure out what and who happens to be in them, while Pidge messes around with the controls (and not actually affecting much, because Allura’s not awake yet), Keith, still in his Marmoran armour (there’s no way he’d just been a rank and file Galran soldier), is watching with narrowed eyes and suddenly having a Bad Feeling, and Shiro is herding pilots like they’re cats.
Hunk and Lance actually hit it off right away. As Allura and Coran start waking up, Hunk’s telling Lance about how they found the Yellow Lion on Earth, and no, they’re Human, what’s an Altea - oh, yeah, and Keith’s with them, don’t worry about him-
Except, Allura, Lance and Coran do worry about Keith. Keith ends up pinned on the floor by an Allura who’s still reeling from the loss of her planet and people and this Galran is in breathing space of her BROTHER.
Shiro ends up being the one to calm everyone down. Because Hunk is now panicking and Pidge isn’t being helpful because she’s torn between not wanting things to deteriorate but also she doesn’t exactly like the fact that they’re working with a Galra, even if he says he’s on their side. Lance is staring at everyone, feeling sort of shaken up and betrayed because that’s a Galran oh quiznak that’s a Galran on the Castle and he hadn’t even noticed.
And then it turns out that Keith is, somehow, able to explain to the Alteans present that half the reason he’s here is that he has the Blue Lion. In his ship. Which is parked not far away, thank you.
Keith, who the others point out helped them in their firefight against the Galran cruiser while leaving Earth.
Allura deigns to accept - read: tolerate - Keith’s presence on the Castle, but she does continue to keep a close eye on him, and Lance starts. Poking at the guy. Because seriously, things are bad and all, but Lance just doesn’t have the negative energy to stay mad and angry like Allura does. Even though some of the things he says in what becomes known as their ‘rivalry’ can tend on the ‘oh, uh, that was a bit harsh’ side.
(Because in this version, if Lance isn’t on Earth, the Blue Lion doesn’t respond. Therefore to fix this gaping plot hole, Hunk ends up finding the Yellow Lion instead, through somewhat more complicated circumstances. The Blade of Marmora already knew where Blue was canonically, so here they still do, even if she’s not on Earth. And Keith, being the hot-head he is… probably took more action than most of them would have appreciated.
And for a rough idea as to what Keith’s ship here looks like:
That’s the size of Rolo and Nyma’s cargo/smuggling ship. I’d say Keith’s is a bit like that, given he’d want to appear unimportant to anyone just doing a general scan. And he probably didn’t plan ahead what he was going to do with it.
The ship stays in one of the Castle’s hangars, just because there’s no point wasting a good ship, even when all of Lance, Shiro, Pidge, Hunk and Keith still (never mind if Allura likes it or not) get a Lion.)
Some people didn’t fall for each other because of ‘love at first sight’; it was the little things he/she did and the adventures they’d been through together touched their hearts and made them realize that, maybe, he/she was THE ONE.
“‘The Steadfast Tin Soldier’ is a literary fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen about a tin soldier’s love for a paper ballerina. After several adventures, the tin soldier perishes in a fire with the ballerina.”
Connall slowly buttoned up his tunic, pulling at the collar and the cuffs of the sleeves. He stopped, his hand braced on his door, his nostrils flaring. Pressing his forehead against the door, Connall dug a dent into his lip that began to bleed.
He should have been back by now. Fenrys should have been back.
He wouldn’t leave.
He wouldn’t run.
He would leave him behind.
Connall took a shaky breath and he turned the knob to his door, a curl falling in his face. He hadn’t noticed the out of place, but familiar scent in his room until he had closed the door, turning around again.
“You can’t be here” Was the first thing out of his mouth and the male just watched him. Connall realized he was playing with the ties at his neck, and he dropped his hands, clenching his fists. “Get out”
“Most we always go through this banter, C?” Vaughan asked, leaning back on Connall’s bed gently. His dark fingers were splayed out on the crisp white sheets. Connall could tell he was trying his best not to clench the fabric.
“Don’t call me that” He kept a wide space between him and his cadre member, arcing into the bathroom. Connall slowly sat down on the stool, his arms hanging between his knees, pressing his brow onto his palms. “Get on with it, you old bird”
Vaughan chuckled. A deep, rich, even slightly raspy sound. Connall’s shoulders slumped forward even more and he sensed Vaughan moving. Immediately, he tried to scramble back, but when he looked up, Vaughan’s hands were held in front of him.
“I know you don’t want to be touched. And I would never touch you, Connall, and you know that” Vaughan gave him a half smile, one of those stupidly chipped teeth showing. Connall nodded and he tugged his knees into his chest.
“When I first came I wanted so badly to mean something” Connall droned, answering Vaughan’s unasked question, fulfilling his untold demand. Connall didn’t bother to look up, only stared at his hands.
“We’ve been through this story. You felt destined to forever be in Fenrys’ shadows, but Maeve provided a way to escape that darkness. What she didn’t tell you was you would become a victim to a much darker darkness” Connall cringed at the steady truth in Vaughan’s words.
“Dig deeper, Connall” The way Vaughan said his name ruined Connall in a thousand and one different ways and it would take him all night to put himself back together. But it ruined him in the good way. He looked back at Vaughan, who was chewing on his lip, his eyebrows raised.
“There’s nothing else. I’m an open book” Connall said, swallowing. Vaughan’s eyes, the color of burned copper, fluttered down to his hands, watching them clench and unclench. He shook his head, clasping his fingers on his knees.
“If you say so, C” Vaughan gestured, changing the subject with that small gesture, and Connall sighed. His fingers trembled as he shrugged off his shirt, his chest heaving up and down, his heart fluttering in his chest. Vaughan tilted his head to the side, looking up at the ceiling. His hand was clasped over his eyes, a slight smile playing at his lips. That smile…
“Anything out of color?” Vaughan asked cautiously. His normally controlled, soothing, slightly clipped voice had taken on the nervous undertone it always did when addressing the abuse Connall suffered.
He looked down at his chest and shook his head. Connall cleared his throat and answered, his voice seeming soft, out of place, weak. He was not weak. Vaughan swallowed, licking his lips. “You should wash up. I’d suggest warm water, but I know you’ll use cold…” He trailed off, but Connall didn’t miss anything when it came to him.
That’s what made everything so much harder.
“You don’t have to do this every time” Connall snapped abruptly. The other male’s jaw tensed and he stood up, walking towards Connall. His hand still pressed over his eyes, he stood in front of him. Connall had this strange feeling Vaughan saw him better than any person with both their eyes open.
“I will always do this, C, and I am past the point of explaining to you why I will do this. I know you’re bruised right there,” Vaughan pointed and Connall winced, confirming the male’s words. “And I know you’re bleeding here” Vaughan put his hand out, parallel to Connall’s heart. If Connall would just step forward, Vaughan’s hand would be pressing against his thumping, racing heart. But he didn’t.
“And Fenrys will press hard against this wound, try to soak up the blood, attempt to stop the bleeding. And Maeve will continue to stab you and you will let her. But I know, I know you want a shield. You have to want it. And when you do I will be your shield”
“Why?” Connall whispered. He wanted to reach forward, wanted to pull Vaughan’s hand from over his eyes, wanted to run his hands through his hair, let his fingers get impossibly tangled. He wanted Vaughan to run. Fly - fly far away. Instead of coming back to him; again and again and again.
“Because you’re it for me. I’ve accepted that” Connall’s heart froze in his chest, his stomach clenching. His fingers curled into his palms, his nails digging into the soft skin. Vaughan’s nostrils flared and Connall knew it was a physical strain for Vaughan not to reach out and grab Connall, to make him stop hurting himself. “You’re the one; I’m yours. You may never be mine, but I’ll spend every waking, breathing moment, making it very obvious whose I am”
“Stop” Connall whispered.
“I am wholly yours. I know it. I know that my soul would sooner collapse than be without yours and I’d let it. But you’re not ready and you may never be ready. It could be centuries from now, and we’d still be here, and I’d still be yours. That’s how sure I am. I’d rather die tomorrow, knowing, trusting, and loving that I’m yours, than live a thousand years, ignoring this fact and moving on”
Connall stared at Vaughan. He looked ridiculous. His hand resting over his eyes, his other hand thumping on his leg. He was restless. Connall was standing there, letting him pour out his heart, and Vaughan was staying still. Because he knew that’s what Connall needed.
If Connall was normal, he would have shoved away Vaughan’s hand, and held him. Kissed him, maybe. Given him a physical touch, an emotional caress. Given him something. But he did nothing. Nothing.
Deep down he knew Vaughan didn’t mind, but he minded.
“Get out” Connall’s voice shook. Blood dripped onto the floor from the crescent moon cuts in his palms. Connall’s breathing had sped up, his shoulders moving up and down. Vaughan’s face fell, but he nodded.
“Don’t come back, V” Connall froze and continued, “Vaughan, don’t you dare come back”
“We both know I will”
“You’re hurting me” Connall whispered.
“Then it is very clear we are not mates,” Vaughan forced a laugh from between his lips. “Because you’re hurting me too, C. But I wouldn’t have it any other way”
Connall should beg him to stay. Beg him to take care of the bruises, to wash him of Maeve’s scent and touch. Beg him to run his fingers through his hair. Beg - Ask, never beg- Vaughan, and Vaughan only, to allow him to rest his head on his lap, to be lost in another touch, another scent. A scent he couldn’t name, but didn’t care, because he knew that’s what home was supposed to smell like.
“I’m sorry,” Connall whispered instead. This was all his fault. He couldn’t dig deeper because it hurt. He couldn’t admit the truth, not to Vaughan. He couldn’t bear this weight, handle what might happen.
“I’m not” Vaughan’s shoulders sagged. In another life Connall would walk forward and grip Vaughan’s shoulders, straightening him. He would hold his face and Vaughan would hold his, and their foreheads would touch. Then their noses, maybe even their lips. And from there, everything would be okay.
But in their world it was simply not possible.
Vaughan turned away and Connall let him walk to the door. He watched as Vaughan braced his palm against the door, the same way he had done before he walked in, then pulled it open. “When you were gone you took a part of me with you” Connall whispered.
It was the most truthful thing he had ever told him.
Vaughan must have sensed that, known that, deep down.
Vaughan turned around and their eyes met. Burned copper and onyx. Vaughan’s eyes didn’t once dip to his bare chest; it didn’t even look like the urge was there. Though it was not because of the lack of physical attraction.
“When-” Connall choked on his words, struggling. He clenched his fists again, grasping at the air. He shook his head, the words failing him. Vaughan was so, so good with words. But they always seemed to fail him when it mattered most.
“Good bye, little wolf,” Vaughan whispered. Connall watched helplessly as the door closed between them. He slowly lowered himself down to the ground, pulling his knees into his chest. He pressed his cheek against the wall, breathing shakily.
(Completely self-indulgent) Thesival + Credence ot3 prompt: Credence, so starved of love, doesn't want to choose between either of them, and resolves to bring them both into his life
this is the perfect arrangenment and the only ot3 I need
Warm. Soft. Safe. Credence dived into the sensation, slowly emerging from the edge of consciousness.
Percival’s chest was flat against his back, his arms never loosening the tight embrace as if he feared Credence might run away when they were all asleep, no matter how many times Credence reassured him with vows and goodnight kisses. The imprisonment made Percival weary and more often than not he would wake up in the middle of the night panting, visions he didn’t want to share with any of them shattering his peace. On morning like this, dreamless and peaceful, Credence dared to hope it could all pass. Maybe, just maybe, Percival was getting better at last.
Theseus left him more place to move, but Credence suspected it wasn’t entirely Theseus’ concern with his comfort that made the man keep his distance. With a history like his, Theseus had every right to be afraid of losing them, Credence thought, observing as the man’s lips slightly parted, slow breaths ghosting over his skin as moved a bit closer, bringing Theseus’ palm to his lips to kiss it, to let him know they were no longer at war.
In the daylight, out in the world, they were perfectly opposite, mirroring each other in a twisted way, Percival never wording his affection when Theseus was almost delightfully possessive, jealous of Credence every time when they went out for a walk and strangers were trying to steal his glance.
It was almost too easy, loving the two of them, Credence thought with fondness as Theseus stirred in his sleep, a small grimace appearing on his handsome face. It was even easier to let himself be loved.
Her ladyship will meet with nothing with kindness and respect in this house. And, apart from such little precautions as may suggest themselves to our good sense, she will be treated as a guest in this house and we will strive to make her happy.