#family tension

[aventurineswife]

u r now my go-to whenever i have an idea for aventurine :3 (and i love everything u write :3)

so like readers parents invite aventurine over cuz they wanna meet him. aventurine gets nervous (who wouldnt) and reader tells him itll be fine. but readers parents dont like him when they meet him for the first time bc hes part of the ipc (no one really likes the ipc im pretty sure). eventually he grows on them bc hes nice and treats reader well. once they learn his trauma and backstory they're joking about adopting him cuz theyve always wanted a son :3 but it doesnt really matter cuz aventurine is gonna marry reader anyway so theyll get the son they always wanted >v<

-:3 anon

Meeting the Parents!

Summary: Aventurine nervously meets your parents, who initially judge him due to his connection with the IPC. Despite their doubts, his kindness and the revelation of his traumatic past win them over. By the end of the evening, your parents jokingly consider adopting him, unaware that Aventurine plans to marry you, making him family in more ways than one.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Family Dynamics, Nervousness, Romance, Humor, Trauma, Supportive Parents.

Warnings: Light angst, mentions of trauma, family tension.

A/N: HEHEHE THANK YOU SOO MUCH!! 🤭💖 AND I LOVE YOUR REQUESTS!! <33

Aventurine stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar for what felt like the hundredth time. He’d faced down intimidating boardrooms, handled high-stakes deals, and even wagered his career on sheer wit and nerve. But nothing could compare to the butterflies fluttering wildly in his stomach at the thought of meeting your parents.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his usually confident voice edged with uncertainty. His eyes found yours in the reflection, an unspoken plea lingering in them.

You took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “They’re going to love you, Aven. Just be yourself, okay?”

His usual grin flickered on his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Myself?” he echoed with a soft chuckle. “I hope they can handle that.” He took a deep breath and straightened his posture, donning his most dashing smile, a look that usually melted away doubts. “Alright, let’s do this.”

The smell of fresh-baked bread filled the air as you stepped into your parents' house, leading Aventurine by the hand. Your mother greeted you warmly, her gaze flicking to Aventurine with curiosity…and a touch of skepticism. Your father, meanwhile, offered a polite nod, but there was no missing the cautious look in his eyes as he took in the flamboyant attire, the card suit details, and the peacock feather earring glinting in the light.

“Mom, Dad,” you began, smiling encouragingly, “this is Aventurine.”

Aventurine extended his hand to your father. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. [L/N].”

Your father shook his hand briefly before pulling back. “So, IPC, huh?” he remarked, eyebrows raised. “Not the most popular organization in these parts.”

Aventurine’s confident smile faltered just a bit. He shot a glance your way, as if to gauge if this was the normal reception. You gave him a supportive look, and he recovered, nodding smoothly. “Yes, sir. It does carry a reputation—but I’m not your typical IPC manager.” He laughed, but your parents' silence made the sound a bit strained.

Your mother gestured for everyone to sit, her eyes fixed on him as though assessing some hidden quality. “We know that our [Name] has always been a good judge of character,” she said delicately, “but IPC isn’t exactly known for…compassionate work. What drew you there?”

Aventurine paused, clearly grappling with how much to share. “It’s…complicated,” he said eventually. “But to be frank, I didn’t have much choice. When life’s odds are stacked against you, sometimes you have to play the hand you’re dealt.”

That seemed to strike a chord with them, though they exchanged skeptical glances. Noticing the tension, you gently rested your hand on his, giving him a nod to continue. He met your gaze, and something in your eyes—trust, reassurance—seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders.

Throughout dinner, Aventurine worked to prove himself. He shared stories from his travels and even cracked a few jokes, though his laughter was softer, more tentative than usual. And you noticed him sneaking a worried glance at you each time your father’s questions probed a little too close for comfort.

But slowly, as the evening unfolded, the initial frostiness began to thaw. Your father seemed to soften, maybe even appreciate Aventurine’s resilience and tenacity. And your mother, despite her initial concerns, seemed almost charmed by his good manners and his clear affection for you.

“So, Aventurine,” your mother began, refilling his glass of water, “tell us a bit more about your family.”

He froze, the smile slipping from his face for just a moment. You felt his hand clench slightly under the table, and instinctively, you rubbed his knuckles with your thumb.

“Actually,” he said quietly, looking at his drink, “I…don’t have family.” He gave a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “They’re gone. All of them, I suppose.”

Your parents’ expressions softened, and your mother reached out, resting her hand over his free one. “I’m sorry, dear,” she murmured, her eyes filling with a new warmth. “No one should have to go through that.”

Aventurine looked up, a surprised flicker crossing his face. “Thank you.”

By the time dessert arrived, the mood was lighter, laughter filling the room as your mother jokingly commented on how she always wanted another son. Aventurine flushed at the remark, glancing at you with a shy, boyish grin you rarely saw.

“Well, Mom,” you said, barely holding back your own grin, “it’s only a matter of time before he’s family anyway.” You shot a mischievous look at Aventurine, who raised an eyebrow, his signature confidence slowly returning.

“Oh?” your father asked, now leaning back with a playful smirk. “You plan on making things official?”

Aventurine chuckled, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear, a genuine, softened expression on his face. “Actually…yes, if your child will have me,” he said, his gaze warm as it found yours.

That night, as you walked back to your shared apartment, Aventurine’s hand wrapped securely around yours, he let out a long sigh, laughing softly. “They’re…amazing. I was so nervous. But they’re…your family, [Name]. And they really welcomed me, despite everything.”

You squeezed his hand, smiling up at him. “I told you they’d love you.”

He stopped, turning to face you fully, his eyes bright in the dim streetlight. “You were right. And…I want you to know, they’re my family now too. I’m going to protect you. Always.”

You leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I know. And I’ll protect you, too.”

Together, you walked on, your steps in perfect harmony. Aventurine didn’t have to gamble anymore; he’d already won.

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Shadows of Confession

Summary: 

What happens when Azriel tells Cassian that Cassian’s little sister Y/N is his mate?

Word Count: 1798

Warnings: None aside from an over protective Cassian 

The training grounds of the Night Court were eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of the city below. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the field where Cassian and Azriel stood, sweat gleaming on their brows from an intense sparring session.

Cassian was the first to break the silence, his voice gruff yet concerned. “You’ve been distracted lately, Az. What’s going on?”

Azriel hesitated, his heart pounding. This was the moment he’d been dreading, but he couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. He sheathed his sword and turned to face his brother. “Cassian, we need to talk.”

Cassian’s brow furrowed, sensing the seriousness in Azriel’s tone. “What is it?”

Azriel took a deep breath, his shadows swirling around him nervously. “It’s about your sister. About Y/N.”

Cassian’s eyes darkened, suspicion creeping into his expression. “What about Y/N?”

Azriel met Cassian’s gaze, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “She’s my mate.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, like a storm breaking, Cassian’s face contorted with anger. “What did you just say?”

“Y/N is my mate,” Azriel repeated, trying to remain calm. “I’ve known for a while now, but I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

Cassian’s fists clenched, his wings flaring out behind him. “My sister? You think you can just... claim her?”

“It’s not about claiming,” Azriel said, his own shadows agitated by Cassian’s reaction. “It’s a bond, something neither of us can control.”

Cassian took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I’m going to let you, with your shadows and your darkness, anywhere near her? She’s too innocent, too pure for someone like you.”

Azriel’s heart ached at the words, but he held his ground. “I know you want to protect her, Cassian. I do too. I would never hurt her.”

Cassian’s eyes flashed with fury. “You already have! By being who you are, by being in her life, you’re putting her in danger.”

“I love her,” Azriel said quietly, the confession hanging in the air between them. “I love her more than anything. I would die to keep her safe.”

Cassian’s anger seemed to waver, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “Do you think that makes it any easier for me to accept? She’s my little sister, Az. I’ve watched over her all her life. I can’t just... let go.”

Azriel stepped closer, his voice earnest. “I’m not asking you to let go, Cassian. I’m asking you to trust me. To trust that I will do everything in my power to protect her, to make her happy.”

Cassian’s shoulders sagged, the weight of his emotions pulling him down. “She deserves better than this, better than a life filled with shadows.”

Azriel nodded, understanding the depth of Cassian’s concern. “She does. But she’s my light in the darkness, Cassian. She’s the reason I can face my shadows.”

Cassian looked away, struggling with his conflicting emotions. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. “Does she know?”

Azriel shook his head. “Not yet. I wanted to tell you first. I owe you that much.”

Cassian was silent for a long moment, the tension between them palpable. Then he looked back at Azriel, his expression softening just a fraction. “If you hurt her, Az... if you let her down in any way, I will never forgive you.”

“I won’t,” Azriel vowed, his voice unwavering. “I swear to you, Cassian. I will cherish her, protect her, and love her with everything I have.”

Cassian nodded slowly, the anger in his eyes replaced by a weary acceptance. “You better. For both your sakes.”

Azriel reached out, placing a hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “Thank you. It means more than you know.”

Cassian gripped Azriel’s shoulder in return, his expression still tense but less hostile. “Just... be good to her, Az. She deserves the best.”

“I will,” Azriel promised, feeling a surge of relief and hope. “I promise.”

As they stood there, the last light of day fading into night, Azriel knew that the hardest part was yet to come—telling Y/N the truth. But with Cassian’s reluctant blessing, he felt ready to face whatever came next, determined to build a future with the woman who had brought light into his shadows.

That evening, Azriel found himself standing outside Rhysand’s study, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He needed advice on how to approach Y/N, and there was no one better to turn to than Rhysand.

He knocked softly, and a moment later, Rhysand’s voice called out, “Come in.”

Azriel entered the room, closing the door behind him. Rhysand looked up from his desk, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Azriel. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Azriel took a seat, his shadows restless around him. “I need your advice, Rhys.”

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his expression serious. “What’s on your mind?”

Azriel took a deep breath. “It’s about Y/N. She’s my mate.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Y/N? Cassian’s sister?”

Azriel nodded. “Yes. And I told Cassian today. He... didn’t take it well.”

Rhysand chuckled softly. “I can imagine. Cassian can be a bit overprotective when it comes to his sister.”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s an understatement. But he gave me his reluctant blessing. Now, I need to figure out how to tell Y/N.”

Rhysand’s gaze softened. “You’re worried about how she’ll react?”

Azriel nodded. “Yes. She’s always been a bit wary of me, of my shadows. I’m afraid that the bond won’t snap into place for her, that she’ll always be a little afraid of me.”

Rhysand leaned forward, his eyes filled with empathy. “Azriel, you’ve always been good at reading people. Trust that. You know Y/N better than you think. Just be honest with her. Tell her how you feel, and let her see the real you.”

Azriel’s shadows seemed to calm at Rhysand’s words. “You’re right. I need to trust in the bond, and in her.”

Rhysand smiled. “Exactly. And remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re all here to support you, and Y/N too.”

Azriel stood, feeling a renewed sense of determination. “Thank you, Rhys. I appreciate it.”

Rhysand nodded, his smile widening. “Anytime, Az. Now go, and tell her how you feel.”

The House of Wind was alive with laughter and conversation as the Night Court gathered for dinner. The long table was filled with the Court's closest members, including Rhysand, Feyre, Mor, Amren, Cassian, Azriel, and Y/N. The warmth of camaraderie and the delicious scent of food filled the air, creating a comforting atmosphere.

Azriel, seated next to Y/N, could barely focus on the meal. His mind was preoccupied with the conversation he had with Cassian earlier that day and the advice he received from Rhysand. He glanced at Y/N, who seemed to be enjoying herself, chatting animatedly with Mor.

Cassian, seated across the table, kept a watchful eye on Azriel. His earlier anger simmered beneath the surface, and he struggled to keep his emotions in check. The knowledge that his sister and Azriel were mates weighed heavily on him.

As the meal progressed, Azriel leaned closer to Y/N, his voice low. "Y/N, can we talk after dinner? There’s something important I need to discuss with you."

Y/N turned to him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and something else—something Azriel couldn't quite place. "Of course, Azriel. I’d like that."

Cassian’s sharp eyes caught the intimate exchange, and he felt his control slipping. His protective instincts over Y/N surged, and before he could stop himself, he slammed his fist on the table, causing everyone to jump.

“Enough!” Cassian roared, his voice echoing through the dining hall. “You think you can just whisper sweet nothings to my sister under my nose, Azriel?”

Everyone turned to look at Cassian in shock, their expressions ranging from surprise to confusion.

“What are you talking about, Cassian?” Rhysand asked, his tone calm but curious.

Cassian pointed a shaking finger at Azriel, his eyes blazing with fury. “He’s been keeping a secret from all of us. From Y/N. He’s her mate!”

Gasps filled the room, and all eyes turned to Azriel and Y/N. Azriel stood, his expression a mixture of anger and determination. “Cassian, this isn’t the way—”

Y/N rose to her feet, her face a mask of shock and dismay. “Cassian, stop! This isn’t your decision to make.”

Cassian turned to her, his voice filled with anguish. “You’re my little sister, Y/N. You don’t understand what you’re getting into. Azriel’s shadows—”

Y/N stepped closer to Cassian, her eyes flashing with determination. “I’ve known, Cassian. I’ve known for a while.”

Silence fell over the room as everyone processed Y/N’s words. Azriel looked at her in surprise. “You knew?”

She nodded, her gaze softening as she met his eyes. “Yes, Azriel. I knew. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to scare you off. I know how much your shadows mean to you, and I wanted to give you time.”

Cassian looked between Azriel and Y/N, his anger dissipating into confusion. “You knew?”

Y/N reached out to take Cassian’s hand, her voice gentle. “Yes, and I appreciate your concern. But this is my decision. Azriel is my mate, and I trust him.”

Rhysand cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Well, this certainly explains a lot. But Cassian, you need to trust your sister. She’s capable of making her own choices.”

Feyre nodded in agreement, her eyes warm with understanding. “And Azriel is one of the most honorable men I know. He would never hurt Y/N.”

Cassian’s shoulders sagged, the weight of his emotions finally catching up to him. “I just want her to be safe.”

Azriel stepped forward, his voice steady and sincere. “I swear to you, Cassian, I will protect her with my life. She is everything to me.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with love for both her brother and Azriel. “And I love him, Cassian. Please, trust us.”

Cassian sighed, finally relenting. “Alright. But if you ever hurt her, Azriel—”

“I won’t,” Azriel promised, his eyes locking with Y/N’s. “I swear.”

As the tension eased, Rhysand raised his glass, a smile playing on his lips. “To new beginnings, and to the bonds that make us stronger.”

Everyone raised their glasses, the mood lightening once more. Y/N took her seat next to Azriel, their hands entwined under the table. They shared a private smile, knowing that despite the challenges ahead, they would face them together.

Cassian watched them, his protective instincts still strong but tempered by the knowledge that his sister was happy. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

[alarminglybad]

Comictober 2024 Day 19: Bone

[star--bird]

Batkids do a "hear me out" cake:

Tim: *Puts Talia to annoy Damien*

Damien: *Starts yelling at Tim while everyone else is trying not to laugh*

Jason: *Mentally freaking out while trying his hardest to act along with the bit*

[angstflavoured]

i think too many people misinterpret what i mean when i say i ship billford. like no, i do not want them to be together happily eventually. i dont even want them to be together. the ship so goddamn toxic that there is only misery and old broken remnants of feelings and longing for something that couldve been but never will be. they will never be happy in each others lives and i want to keep it that way. dont get it twisted thinking im just shipping cute little yaoi and i want them to kiss in canon. no. this is something much deeper and intimate and painful. this aint my first Toxic Old Man Yaoi rodeo and it wont be my last. there is no happiness here.

[andi-o-geyser]

despite how you feel about the changes from the stream to the show, if you like or dislike them, i love how inherently hilarious the narrative path tlovm is taking regarding perc’ahlia is because a situationship would literally kill campaign percy and vex like how the internet would kill a small victorian child. they are NOT built for that

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Turtle Takedown Teamwork.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[peace-hunter]

tfone au where OP is created as the last of the primes but way after them, a sparkling born at what were thought to be the last days of the war against the quintessons, the beginning of a new generation of peace after eons of war. a child meant to be loved and raised knowing nothing of war nor sacrifice.

he's kept mostly out of the spotlight by his siblings, who don't wish to expose him to everyone's optics so young, and want to wait until the war is done and over to properly introduce him to their people.

except of course the primes are betrayed and murdered by sentinel, the war is lost and everyone who knows and cared for the truth is either banished or outright killed in order to suppress it.

and the high guard, the ones the primes trusted the most, the ones that were supposed to protect them, the ones who failed in their most important duty, have to make a choice. to take the last prime, their last hope, with them to the surface, a hostile environment where there's little to no supplies and where they'll be hunted down by both sentinel and the quintessons as the biggest threat to their regimen.

or hide him in plain sight. place him where sentinel won't think to look for him. one more sparkling among many. and hope it will be enough to keep him alive. pray to primus that he'll protect his last child long enough for them to come back for him when it's safer (even if most of them have already lost their faith on him when he allowed the rest of his children to be massacred like that)

they almost lose their resolve when they realize they will have to take the little one's cog away in order to make him blend in with the rest of the newborns (and oh do they burn with murderous intent when they see what sentinel has done to their people but it's not the time yet-) but in the end they decide an impaired little prime is better than a dead one.

and so in the chaos of thirteen dead primes and a sudden energon crisis, a little sparkling who very few mechs really knew about and even fewer had seen completely vanishes. and in the depths of iacon a mech in charge of a new batch of newborns scratches their helm in confusion as they realize they must have miscounted the first time.

optimus prime is quietly erased from any official records by sentinel, written off as dead when they find a sparkling's frame mangled beyond recognition after an attack on the base of those rebels that insist on being a thorn on his side. killing the sparkling hadn't been precisely in his plans, he probably could've found some use for it after all, but he's not particularly upset about it either.

and orion pax grows up with an ache on his spark that tells him he's missing something far more important than a t-cog and dreams of gentle and loving hands, cradling him against the frames of mechs he cannot recall the faces of.

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

This has most definitely been said before, but we were robbed of the core four quarantining on-screen together at Buck’s place. ROBBED I say

[lemongogo]

they should get to kill each other at least twice .i think

[softiedingo]

spn after the fourth season

[armed-with-a-waffle-iron]

Stephanie's just SO frickin cute sometimes.

Batgirl (2009) #8

[autisticlancemcclain]

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

[mollysunder]

The way Ambessa talks about the Guile is interesting. She speaks of it with such suspicion, dislike, and literal resentment. At first you'd assume that her attitude is driven by her fued with the Black Rose, but we don't know how long that's been going on, or if this was her own bias prior to it. Under the lens that these are Ambessa's own preconcieved biases before she got involved with the BR then it immediately becomes a critique on her own family. You just can't divorce her comments from how the show depicts her children, from Mel.

Almost every word Ambessa used to describe the Guile describes Mel, except "absent honor" of course. And when you understand that, it becomes clear just how doomed Ambessa and Mel are as mother and daughter. Ambessa indirectly, without the intention to imply Mel, states that her distaste for the fundamental aspects of Mel's personality. Ambessa loves her daughter, but she doesn't LIKE her.

[theside-b]

Evil never looked so good.

Nat Chen as "Nat" in promo stills for episode 2 of SEE YOUR LOVE (2024)

[faaun]

what draws you back to your country what draws you back to your land when i was a kid i told myself if i ever left iran i'd never go back 2 years into living in the UK i started looking at news on iran again 10 years in and i visited it for the first time again and today i heard an iranian mother talk in farsi to her child on the train to london the way my mother used to and i wanted to cry i wanted to ask her whether they're still cutting the mountaintops whether the lakes are still drying today i showed the person i was with pictures of waterfalls and palaces and forests and snow-white north something odd pulls me back with increasing force i can't ignore it ever again