#she's jealous of her brothers

[wherevenusholdssomeofficespace]

"The I don't even drink Coffee I can't do anything right" line is both so funny, but also drives me insane.

Candace is cripplingly insecure. This is of course, obviously part of her busting motivation. But it also informs a lot of how she interacts with Jeremy, particularly early in the series. She is super cool, but she's constantly living in the shadow of her little brothers so none of her accomplishments seem significant. But for all of Candace's bravado she feels she has to prove her worth.

So this mug?

Candace this is a gift for you. It is supposed to be something YOU appreciate. It is a gift. No strings attached.

Phineas and Ferb didn't HAVE to make her something of course, but as a gift it is on Phineas and Ferb to get something she likes. But it doesn't even cross her mind that Phineas and Ferb could have done something wrong, but that the problem lies with HER.

She does often lash out her brothers. She usually does blame them for her problems, even when it doesn't make sense. So it's not that it never occurs to her to blame Phineas and Ferb. But it's also kinda clear its not what she truly believes. It's easier to pretend that "Phineas and Ferb ruin everything" than acknowledge that "I'm pathetic and worthless". Just like its easier to pretend "Phineas and Ferb are super annoying" than acknowledge that she's proud of them and that she thinks everything she does is horrible anyway.

She literally sees something Phineas and Ferb did for her as something she is responsible for reacting to correctly. There's lots to be said in regards to Candace and positions of authority. But in some ways sees everything Phineas and Ferb do as something SHE is responsible for, even when its explicitly not. To some extent the fact that she can't keep her brother's under control is something that she sees as a personal failure.

[zarnzarn]

part three of the reverse odyssey au! polites' pov this time, cause I thought a constantly changing motive explanation would be fun

1/2/3/4

||

Later, they find that it is the prayer of a terrified Elepnor clinging to the mast that saved them.

He'd called out in fear in the prayer he'd heard the most, growing from a boy of ten to a youth of twenty in the Trojan War, under Odysseus and his quick, odd prayers to his patron goddess- and half-surprised, half out of reflex, Polites had thought later by the look on the goddesses' own face-

Athena had answered.

She'd guided their ship to shore through the storm, somehow, and then stood at the wheel, taller than anyone Polites had ever seen, straight-backed and proud. Staring at them all as they slowly got to their feet, bowing and muttering prayers under their breath as they prostrated, more than half of them trembling in fear.

They'd all known their captain was blessed by the Goddess of Wisdom, in a way that was more than a mere touch or grey eyes. All known the way he'd sometimes stop talking and stare into the distance, and bark out orders for a convoluted, twisted, wonderful plan after.

Polites had known it was something more the day his friend had stumbled out of the forest all those years ago, silent as an owl and grin sharper than it used to be. Eyes no longer Hermes' kaleidoscope-amber ones that hurt to look at, but a gleaming silver that struck you still where you stood to listen.

But this was still more terrifying than any battle they'd ever faced.

(He saw so much of Odysseus in her, even standing still, that it hurt.

They had been so close.)

"Owl Lady!" Telemachus cheers, and runs out from behind his mother's skirts to the Goddess of War. Penelope makes an aborted movement towards him, dredging up some mortification beyond the haunted expression on her face (if only they'd had one moment more, to grab each other's hands even a little, if she'd just grabbed at him tightly, if they hadn't forgotten to get rid of that accused windbag-) at the way Telemachus runs to Athena with even less fear than his father had, grinning wide up at her as he hugs her shins in greeting.

"Telemachus," She says, bemused and fond. Her voice is... familiar, actually. Polites can't place it for a second, until Penelope makes an odd choking sound next to him and memory assaults- of Odysseus running around shouting with joy after his son's birth, proudly showing him off to everyone around as if he looked anything more than a raisin, Penelope tiredly laughing as she lay against the pillows. Of him suddenly pausing and turning to the strange cloaked woman in the corner and dragging her out into the light to gently hand her his son.

"Odysseus," she'd hissed, sounding panicked, yet he'd just laughed and shifted her hands to support Telemachus' head. Polites and Penelope had frowned at each other, confused, but Odysseus had only teased the woman about a newborn baby being the thing to scare her and offered them no explanations, and what the fuck, that had been Athena.

Penelope's eye twitches a little bit, some of the heartbreak clearing up in her face in favour of a strong wish for strangulation. Polites empathized. What was wrong with Odysseus.

She stares at them now, expectant, and Polites realises what she's waiting for the same moment her lips curl into a sneer of rage. Shit, right, she and Odysseus had had some sort of falling out after the cyclops-

"So," She says, dangerously low. "Does the King of Ithaca think himself more powerful than the Goddess of Wisdom, that he spurns my presence in such a way? Or-"

"He's been taken by Poseidon."

Polites doesn't know the words come from him until Athena swivels her head around to face him.

Oh fuck.

He takes a shuddering breath as he pushes himself to his feet. Glances out to the side and feels his heart drop at the unfamiliar waters, so far away from-

He turns back to Athena and gathers his courage. "Poseidon appeared before us, one year ago. Demanded reparations for the hurt we dealt to the cyclops, his son."

"So then why target-" Athena cuts herself off, teeth gnashing. Her hair starts rising, even though there's no breeze, feathers appearing across her visible skin. "I had rescinded my blessings from him! For this very reason, so Poseidon wouldn't-"

She stops talking with a hiss, pinching the bridge of her nose in barely contained fury. Polites' breath catches. She'd taken her blessings back- to protect Odysseus, of course, her feud with Poseidon was well-known to everyone and anyone, so the ocean god wouldn't take it out on her favoured.

Did Odysseus know that, Polites wants to ask her, remembering the absolute mourning devastation on his friend's face for that one day before it all went to shit, but knows it won't help anyone.

He swallows and continues. This part is going to anger her beyond anything, he knows. "Poseidon cursed him into a creature of the sea," He says cautiously, watching strange colors dance across her armour in her growing anger, looking less and less like a woman as he spoke, eyes glowing fire-hot. "His legs melted and turned into the tail of a fish, and he no longer could breathe above land, so we had to put him in the sea. And-"

His throat closes up, and the sailors around wince back, gathering Telemachus and pulling each other away from the wheel, knowing what's about to come.

"And?" Athena says, deceptively calm, as she watches them stumble away from her.

Polites gulps and feels tears run down his face as he says it. "And he ripped out his tongue."

Athena screams.

||

After they've all wiped the blood from their ears and eyes and huddled down in the belly of the ship, holding onto each other until they've stopped trembling-

They're going to write songs about that scream, Polites thinks vaguely, staring up at the wood. His hands still are shaking. The rage of Athena will be recorded for the ages, in songs and poems and books.

Still, he can't bring up any secret resentment against her for nearly killing them- he felt the same, that first day, when he'd found the bloody tongue on the deck and had vomited over the side of the ship, sobbing.

Odysseus, his silver-tongued friend, wisest of the Greeks, able to talk his way out of anything, tongueless. An unimaginable cruelty, especially to the favourite of Athena.

Although, that was probably why, wasn't it.

They all stiffen as the door creaks and Athena ducks to walk inside. Someone whimpers. Polites doesn't blame him.

She looks at them with Odysseus' eyes, staring around at them once more with a blank expression.

"The continuation of this quest will ruin your kingdom," She says simply, and Polites barely holds back five different protests that will get them all killed.

Penelope stands up, walking to the front. "I will not abandon my husband." She raises her chin, meeting the Goddesses' gaze without fear. "Not ever."

Athena rolls her eyes. Eurylochus chokes, and Polites has to hold back some hysterical mix of a laugh and bursting into tears. Gods, she acts just like him.

"I did not expect you to," She says dryly. "But it will take years, and you can't expect Ithaca to finance your search for that long without a ruler."

Penelope's expression wavers, voice cracking to a whisper. "Years?"

Athena looks remorseful at least when she nods. "Years," She says kindly. Someone puts their head into their hands, but Polites can't tell who, because his vision is blurring out with tears. "He has been blown to the far eastern shores, where the sands stretch over a land a thousand times the size of Sparta. It will take a year alone for him to make it back to the ocean, and Poseidon will fight to keep him away from you all. And by then-"

She closes her eyes and purses her lips, swaying back like someone has dealt her a physical blow. "By then," she continues, steeling herself back to untouchable Goddess. "He will have been of the wild waters for so long that he will be little more than an animal. You will have to catch him, with nets and boats and ropes- and then find a way to bring him back to normal."

They are silent for a while.

"So be it," Eurylochus says, standing up and placing a hand on Penelope's shoulder. He nods to the Goddess, even though he's close enough that Polites can feel him shaking to do it. "What would you counsel us to do for Ithaca in the meantime, Goddess?"

"Ctimene has an equal claim to the throne, as does Penelope," Athena muses. Polites starts and feels the men murmur. Still, who would argue with-

"How will Ctimene rule, though?" Someone pipes up. Nevermind, then. Clearly, Odysseus took everyone's common sense with him when he was rolled off the side of the ship.

Eurylochus snorts before Athena can answer, turning around with a wry smile. "Odysseus may have won us the Trojan War," he tells the lackwitted man. "But never has he once won a single fucking fight with his sister in all the time I've known them. She is a terrifying woman."

Polites feels a laugh slip from him before he can stop it. "She's your wife."

Eurylochus nods grimly. "And I am scared."

"She is rather... shrill." Athena agrees, mouth curling in distaste. "Still, she and you can rule when Penelope is on the waters and the kingdom will not suffer for it. But you cannot both abandon Ithaca to possible invaders."

Penelope sobs and quickly tries to muffle it with a hand, screwing her eyes closed. Polites puts his hand on hers, trying to be reassuring even though his own chest aches. Years.

They will do it, he knows. But still.

"You will find food to eat on these shores," Athena says, turning around. "Ithaca is twelve days west from here."

"Where are you going?" Telemachus pipes up.

A smile props up on Athena's face, small and lacking joy. Cunning and cruel. She still feels so much like Odysseus. "I was dealt a great insult," She tells the child. "And I must return my reply to it."

When they set out the next morning, all the fish in the waters are floating at the surface, dead.

[missunderstood-with-ideas]

Hera: children you have not found the love of your life if you didn’t find them in the trash!

*Sabine and Ezra both look at Kanan*

Kanan: why do you assume that I was in the trash?!

Leia: no she’s got a point

Ezra: does this mean I can space Kallus cuz Zeb didn’t find him in the trash!

Kallus: Bridger I swear

Zeb: kid….Kallus was the trash

[autisticlancemcclain]

The first bout of whispering, Shiro can ignore. He’s a teacher by trade, after all. Astronaut, sure. Paladin, even. But he always expected to be a teacher, trained for it, and he knows when you put a group of teenagers in a room and expect them to start learning by lecture, there’s going to be some whispering. He’d be concerned if there wasn’t, frankly.

But as it keeps happening, again and again, to the point where it’s almost constant, Shiro begins to lose his patience.

“Lance, Hunk,” he says, catching himself long before then. He tries to smile, gentle but firm. “Everything okay?”

The two boys clam up immediately. Lance even begins to lean slightly away from Hunk, although Shiro’s not sure he notices.

Shiro frowns, puzzled at the reaction. That’s — uncommon. He’s seen embarrassed, seen sheepish, seen unbothered, even seen downright rude, but Lance looks almost… afraid. And Hunk looks at him with a lot more anxiety than the situation calls for, but Shiro is beginning to notice that that’s just Hunk.

The both mutter some semblance of apology, and Shiro moves on quickly, unwilling to dwell on the incident too long.

For the rest of the briefing, he keeps an eye on them. He’s still focused, of course, as their break-in and recon on a nearby Empire warship is not only hugely dangerous, but will also be hugely beneficial, but he lets his notes do a lot of the talking for him. He flits his eyes to the pair every so often, and while Hunk meets his eyes on occasion, smiling slightly, Lance keeps his head down, hunched over his tablet.

Shiro notices that the tablet is powered off. He doesn’t write a single note.

His shoulders are hunched up to his ears.

———

“Alright, kiddo, good job.”

Keith grins, stepping backwards and bowing to finish the fight. Shiro bows back, matching his smile.

“You did great.”

“I know,” Keith says cheekily. “You’re getting easier and easier to beat. Probably because you’re elderly.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Am I.”

His annoying little brother hums, completely unconcerned. He steps off to the side and starts swinging around his training stick, very clearly showing off. “Mhm. It was super easy to fight you. I just went whoosh, smack, bam! —” he punctuates every sound with a swing and slash of the stick — “and every hit just landed. Honestly, I think a punching bag would have been more of a challenge. Adam is a way better spar partner than you. I wish I was shot into space with him.”

Shiro’s eye twitches. It’s a clear goad, he knows it is. Keith isn’t even trying to hide it. He’s a twerp with too much energy and too much experience pressing all of Shiro’s buttons — a favourite button of his, of course, being the bit of…healthy competition Shiro has always had with his boyfriend.

(He’s well aware of the irony. He hears Adam pointing and laughing in his head every time he endures Keith’s complaining about Lance pulling his mullet, so to speak. In fact keeping his mouth shut about the parallels is the only thing keeping him from throwing Keith down the laundry chute. He’s waiting for a moment when the reveal can be well and truly devastating.)

Shiro manages, with herculean strength, to step away from his turd of a brother, putting his training stick away.

“I am leaving,” he says loudly, pointedly turning away. “I said I’d train one hour with you and not a second more.”

He feels Keith’s pout more than sees it. “Coward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shiro snorts, waving his hand dismissively. He hears swishing sounds, and the clicks of buttons — Keith is starting up his own training. Again. “Don’t be late for dinner or I’ll send Lance after you.”

“Can’t promise I won’t maim him,” Keith mutters. “Sometimes I just want to wring his neck.”

Shiro is very familiar with that feeling. Or at least the raving about it. He used to feel great pleasure in driving Adam to that point, just because he was hot when he was mad. But Shiro values his limbs — or at least what’s left of them — where they are, so he keeps the comments to himself as he makes his way out of the training room, meandering back to his own quarters.

He takes his time showering and redressing, knowing he’s got some time before dinner. He thinks Hunk even managed to wrestle Coran out of the kitchen, which means no food goo. It also means that he’s banned from even breathing near the kitchen until the food is fully cooked and completed — which is a bullshit ban and one based in false accusations — but he’s sure he can help set the table, or something. Stir a pot. He’s good at that.

He towels off his hair, not bothering to style it, and takes his time walking over to the kitchens. The castle floors are cold under his bare feet, he finds himself wishing he had the lion slippers Lance made him. They’re very warm. He never wears them because he’s terrified of ruining them, but it’s so icy in here that he might start having to, or else he’ll freeze.

As he approaches the kitchen, he hears voices. He freezes, quieting his steps and pausing behind the wall to listen. Hopefully no one else walks by, or that will be humiliating.

“— all you have to do is ask, Lance, just casually, it’s not even —”

“— it is even, Hunk, it’s the worst and I’m not doing it, why would I inconvenience —”

“— it isn’t! Not even a little! It’s the smallest tiniest thing!”

“Hunk —”

Hunk throws his hands up in exasperation, spoon going flying and splattering some kind of blue sauce all over the cabinets. Neither of them even blinks at it.

“I am tired of watching you struggle, Leandro! Heaven forbid you ask for help!”

Shiro frowns. That’s not good. That sounds serious.

“I asked for help,” Lance huffs, arms crossed over his chest. “I asked you, didn’t I?”

“I don’t count and you know it,” Hunk says sharply, mirroring him. “I already knew.”

Lance looks away, clenching his jaw. His fingers are tangled in his jacket’s sleeve, tense.

“You don’t have to help anymore if it’s too hard,” he mumbles. “I can handle it myself.”

Hunk softens. “It’s not that, Lance.” He wipes his hands in his apron and pulls Lance to his chest. Lance goes, although he doesn’t move his arms, burying his face in Hunk’s shoulder. “You know it’s not that. If that’s all we have then I’ll keep doing it, damn the consequences.” He pulls back slightly, nudging Lance back so he can look him in the face. “You can just do better, dude. All you gotta do is tell Shiro about your —”

A hand claps over Hunk’s mouth, cutting him off, and Lance squeaks, “Hey, Shiro, hello, hi!”

Shiro startles. He scrambles upright before Hunk turns all the way, so at least he’s only seen crouching by the door like a weirdo by one person.

He clears his throat. “Uh, hi.”

“You’re banned from the kitchen,” Hunk says, muffled. How he looks so mighty and dignified with Lance’s hands still very much pressed to his face is well and truly beyond him. Shiro is frankly awed.

“I just came to help set the table,” he assures, hands held up in surrender. “Promise I’ll stay away from the actual food.”

Hunk narrows his eyes, but must decide he could use the help, because he nods, stepping backwards so Lance’s hands fall back down.

“Alright,” he sighs. “I’m making stew. You can set out utensils if you must but know I’ll judge you heavily for it. Lance, come help me finish up.”

Lance scrambles after him, avoiding Shiro’s gaze like he’s sure he’s going to get yelled at. Shiro watches him go, perplexed.

———

The next few days are, for the most part, manageable. Their mission goes well, Keith is surprisingly mellow — Shiro suspects the little nerd has discovered a library of some kind — and distress calls are minimal. All in all, Shiro should be taking the time as the blessing it is and catching up on some much needed R&R.

Instead, he’s worrying about the Blue Paladin.

Shiro can’t say he knows him well. They’ve hardly been in space a couple of months, after all, and while Shiro must have taught him a couple times — he was in the piloting program so it’s almost impossible that they didn’t cross paths — the Garrison is huge, and Shiro largely teachers younger students. Shiro can’t recall teaching a Lance, anyway.

But he can tell something’s off.

Besides the fact that Hunk keeps looking at Lance with concern, the Cuban seems…withdrawn, almost. He still works hard in training and smokes them in any kind of long distance, but there doesn’t seem to be any joy in it. Even his arguments with Keith seem halfhearted, which Keith will never admit leave him agitated as much as it has Shiro’s eyebrows raising. Shiro is sure, basically, that something is the matter, and surer still that he has to be the one to fix it.

How exactly he should go about it…well, that’s the part he’s struggling with. He knows Lance is kind of star-eyed around him, even though they’re on the same playing field, so Shiro’s not sure just regular talking to him about it is going to do something. And he seemed pretty resistant when Hunk pressed, in the conversation Shiro overheard. He’s just not sure what to do.

Luckily, the situation starts to resolve itself.

“Hey, Shiro, can I talk to you?” Lance mumbles into his breakfast, as everyone else is distracted by Pidge and Keith’s loud argument about cryptids (Shiro has heard it too many times at this point. He’s tuned it out).

Shiro blinks. “Sure,” he says, trying to keep the shock out of his voice. “Now?”

“Uh, after we eat, maybe.”

Shiro tries very hard not to seem over enthusiastic. He sucks at that, so it doesn’t work, and it seems to make Lance more stressed, which only stresses Shiro out more. By the time everyone has finished up and people are starting to file out to various tasks, the tension between them is so thick Shiro feels as if he might suffocate.

Suddenly, as if he propelled himself, Lance springs to his feet, snatching his bowl and Shiro’s and powerwalking towards the kitchen sink. Shiro, startled, follows him.

“You okay?” Shiro asks softly, noticing the whiteness of Lance’s knuckles, clenched around a sponge, and the robotic way he scrubs it across a dirty spoon.

Lance says nothing. He keeps his eyes trained resolutely on the soapy water, spine ramrod straight, nerves bleeding from him in waves.

Hesitantly, Shiro rolls up his sleeves, standing beside him and beginning to dry what he rinses. As Shiro gets close he gets tenser, shoulders hiked up to his ears, but as the minutes drag on, empty kitchen echoing the sound of swishing water and clanking cutlery, he begins to calm down. Shiro watches his face relax, easing its worries twist, and terror fade from his brown eyes.

He hands Shiro the last clean dish to dry, then pulls the plug on the sink, darting over to grab a hand towel and starting to dry.

“Can you write mission plans in pink?”

The words rush out of him, like he’d been holding them between his teeth for God knows how long and they’d finally spilled out. He looks almost nauseous after he says them.

Shiro blinks. That was…not what he’d expected.

“…Why?”

“It’s perfectly okay if you can’t,” Lance continues, as if Shiro had not spoken. “I mean, whatever. I’ll figure it out. I’ve gone without this long, after all, and it’s totally doable. Of course there’s the migraines and the agony but that’s all light work. It’s war, after all. Ha.” He chuckles nervously.

He’s shrunk in on himself, looking almost small. Shiro stares at him with a dropped jaw and wide eyes. Lance doesn’t even notice, eyes focused intensely on the hand towel, breathing worryingly erratic.

“I just swore to Hunk that I’d ask, you know. He said it wouldn’t hurt. And of course it wouldn’t but I don’t need it. It’s just. You know.”

Shiro cannot stress enough how much he doesn’t know. He hasn’t felt this lost in a while.

“Pink makes the letters stick to the page. And I know that sounds stupid as shit and that’s because it is stupid as shit, unfortunately. Dyslexia is the dumbest thing in the world, actually. And who named it that? You know how hard that word is to spell? It’s hard. They should have called it — I dunno, I just mean, it’s whatever. It’s fine. I’ve handled it this long. Uh.” He looks up, finally, and maybe he doesn’t know how to make sense of Shiro’s expression, because he winces, shame overtaking his face. He sets down the towel and gestures vaguely behind him, stepping towards the door. “I’m just gonna — go. Sorry. See you later. Sorry.”

He all but flees out of the room. Shiro barely manages to snag the back of his hoodie, holding him in place.

“Lance. Chill a second. Give me time to respond.”

Lance looks deploringly at the door, then back at Shiro. He looks like he’s accepting his death. Shiro can’t help but feel the teensiest bit offended.

“I’m not going to bite you,” he says, aghast. “Jesus, kid. You’re going to give me a complex.”

To Shiro’s great relief, the remark makes Lance grin. Some of the tension eases from his face.

“You sound like my mother.”

“From what I’ve heard, that’s a compliment,” Shiro says lightly. He pulls out two chairs, orienting them so they’re facing each other. He deliberately takes the one farthest from the door, so Lance doesn’t feel trapped. He gestures to the other one. “Sit.”

Lance does.

“Now. From the beginning and with a little less fear, hopefully. Tell me what’s up, kiddo.”

Lance looks down at his hands, where he’s picking at a scar on his wrist.

“Um. So. I have dyslexia. I can’t read too well.”

Lance cringes as he says it. Shiro wonders who he has to kill for putting the idea that this is something to be ashamed about in his head.

“Cool,” Shiro says, as encouragingly as he can manage. “The main character of my favourite book series as a kid had dyslexia. I was jealous of everyone who had it. I used to pray for it.”

The revelation startles a laugh out of Lance, like Shiro hoped it would. The tension melts right off of him.

“You prayed?”

“Every night,” Shiro affirms, grinning. “I even crossed my eyes and pretended when it didn’t work. My mother didn’t believe me for a second.”

“You’re a dweeb,” Lance says, sounding kind of awed. Like he’s shocked that Shiro, too, is a nerd loser on this castle full of other nerd losers. “Dyslexia sucks.”

Letting his face settle into something more serious, Shiro nods. “I imagine it does.” He reaches over and squeezes Lance’s hand, subtly stopping him from picking at the skin. Keith has the same bad habit. “Writing in pink helps?”

Lance shrugs. “Sorta. Dunno why. But things are less squiggly when they’re written in pink or red. Not perfect, but it’s something. I can hardly read at all when they’re in black; it’s like my eyes are spinning out of my head trying to focus on ‘em. Gives me migraines like you would not imagine.”

“And thus Hunk whispering the plans to you so you don’t have to read them,” Shiro surmises, the whispering during briefings suddenly making sense. Guilt twinges in his belly.

“Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. Didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Of course not,” Shiro says gently. “I get it now. Sorry for not understanding.” He frowns, remembering something. “I should’ve asked beforehand. Or suspected something, or known better, really. I had a kid a few years back in one of my astronomy courses. Li-something. I marked all his stuff in red for the same reasons.”

Lance makes a very particular face. Warning bells go off in Shiro’s head.

“I appreciated that very much,” Lance says politely.

It takes a moment for it to click.

Shiro considers banging his head against the table.

“Please tell me no,” he begs, ears reddening.

“It was a great honour to be renamed by the Takashi Shirogane,” Lance insists.

“I had you in my class for three years!” Shiro says, aghast. “I — I called you Li all the time! In front of people!”

“I didn’t want to correct you! That’s — embarrassing!”

Shiro cradles his head in his hands. Dear God. He knows he’s not great with names, but — Jesus. To rename a kid. Blatantly. Other teachers must have thought he was some cruel jackass.

“I think there was a Li McKinney ahead of me in roll call,” Lance offers, patting Shiro’s back delicately. “So. Pretty easy to mess up.”

“Did you write your name as Li on tests? And assignments?”

“After the first couple times, yeah. Hunk laughed at me. At a certain point I’d just dug myself too deep, I think.”

Shiro sighs, dragging his hand down his face. It’s still quite hot. He looks up at Lance, who’s mouth is twitching.

“You were short as shit back then,” he observes, trying to picture the kid in his class. “Like, shorter than Pidge.”

Lance scowls. “I was — saving up on growth spurts. Yeah. So. Purge that from your memory.” He smirks. “Like my name.”

Shiro groans. “I’m never hearing the end of that, am I.”

Lance smiles. “Probably not. I didn’t know you were uncool. It’s interesting. I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”

Shiro rolls his eyes, but reaches over to mess with Lance’s hair, like he would Keith. Unlike Keith, Lance freaks out way harder, screeching something about hard work and artistic expression.

He smiles. “Glad you came to talk to me, kid.”

Lance sticks out his tongue, but he looks pleased, too. “Yeah, yeah.”

[b-rainlet]

The Green family dynamics are so interesting because like, Viserys is the father but due to his decay he seems more like the grandfather, whereas Otto is the Grandsire but seems to fill out the role of a father more, not only to his daughter but also her children, so he and his daughter are a mother/father unit but in some situations Alicent is treated like a sibling to her children (by Otto) and then you have the obvious Helaena/Aegon happening (siblings who are also husband/wife and mother/father to their children), but at the same time it seems like Aemond is the one trying to be the family's protector and attempting to step up as patriarch, with some of the scenes between him and Alicent giving off the vibes of equals rather than Mother and Son (like when they discuss Aemond finding Aegon) and his relationship with Aegon seeming like he's the big brother and not the other way around, in this essay I will-

[createandconstruct]

Toshinori and Inko finding out their pregnant a year into marriage and just sitting staring at the test like...oh. This was not exactly in the plan...nor did they even think it was possible??

They tell Izuku first of course and when they do he actually thinks they're kidding! Haha! That's actually...pretty funny, guys...uhhh...why do you both look so serious.......oh, oh shit. OH. All Might and Mom are having a kid? He's going to be a brother? In his twenties??? HUH?

Cut to nine months later and Izuku's holding his little sister, Toshinori beside him, arm around his shoulder, as Inko watches on with love and pride, because their family feels even more complete than it was before.

[alumirp]

luffy gets a girlfriend

He is blissfully unaware of this fact, however. He meets Torao at work, he's a firefighter and she's a doctor. She stitched up a cut on his arm and he gets hungry, spontaneously invites her to eat and she accepts, probably hungry too (or totally thinking that the cute guy with the stupid smile is asking her out).

They go out several times after that, usually with Luffy showing up at the hospital randomly, either injured or bringing in a patient, or simply to bother Torao because he was bored.

Luffy gets a new (girl) friend.

They're weird friends, though, because one day Torao just leaned in and kissed him. On the lips! And he liked it for some reason, so they kissed countless more times.

And sometimes things get too hot when they kiss and one thing leads to another and- well, they had sex. Several times. Which is weird, because Luffy definitely has no desire to kiss, much less have sex, with his other friends. But it works, so he just classifies them as weird friends.

He's pretty sure they're NOT lovers, because neither he nor Torao made fancy proposals, with roses, candles, fancy dinner and fancy rings, like Sanji and most TV shows tell, so, definitely weird friends.

And its okay, he likes being weird friends with Torao :D

(They're totally dating and no one believes Luffy when he says they're just friends. Because he shares his meat with Law, he actually, like, listens to her opinion instead of just doing what he wants, he takes her side in arguments no matter how obviously wrong she is, he fights with Ace, physically, when his brother says Law should get out of Luffy's life.They are totally dating, Luffy has a girlfriend, it doesn't matter that he doesn't know it.)

((law is just happy to be here, even if her boyfriend is a little slow))

[borgialucrezia]

THE BORGIA BROTHERS + putting the family's interest above their sister's concerns

"Everything I do is for the family."

[gayofthefae]

Was telling my mom about the Romeo and Juliet death scene blocking parallel in the ily scene and she was deeply confused for a while to the extent that she became unsure if I was talking about Jonathan and not Mike because she basically just...forgot they were dating

She said she thinks of him as gay so she was so earnestly confused for so long at why they would be paralleled to something romantic 😭

[blueeandyellowmakesgreen]

yall know i love my ronance content but a part of me is also really happy for nancy for finally having a platonic girl friend her age. i imagine ever since barb, shes had a lot of walls she had to put up, and maybe robin practically tearing it down and letting herself in is just what she needed and wanted, so nancy just.. let her. idk im looking forward to more of them in the next season. nancy deserves that

[trash-can-sam]

What happens when your coworker kills your other coworker but both of you are in a relationship (kind of) with the same ethereal woman who had an admiration for said dead coworker.

+bonus Evandrey because it’s funny to me (I’m sorry Eva.)

[johnconstantinesdick]

AU where the Gramarye Troupe catches wind of Apollo when he’s a teenager and takes him in. Apollo does not want to be here and is going to make it everyone else’s problem. Everyone is trying fruitlessly to make him learn magic and he firmly believes this is the stupidest shit in the entire goddamn world.

The only good thing Magnifi did, in Apollo’s correct opinion, is tell him how his bracelet worked. Apollo proceeds to use his power to figure out all of the Gramarye magic tricks & then obnoxiously explain this back to everyone to make them feel stupid.

Magnifi just sees this as an encouraging amount of promise. He’s like Apollo you are the one true heir to Troupe Gramarye & Apollo is like no thank you I am going to get a real job. Give the Troupe to Trucy please & thanks she deserves it more than those other two clowns.

[valmonstera]

she gives u a nasty look

[lesbianbanana]

Please know that it's not anti feminist to say that a woman (*cough* Helen and Persephone*cough*) who was kidnapped WAS kidnapped and didn't go by choice ❤️

[daemon-is-perfectly-unhinged]

Rhaenyra: That's the plan, any questions?

Rhaegar, hand raised:

Rhaenyra: Yes, Rhaegar, you raised your hand?

Rhaegar: Your hair looks pretty.

Rhaenyra: Ah, not a question, but thank you.

[theoldkyokodied]

DEE IN THE DOOR WAY OF YOUR LATEST MAC AND DENNIS ART DUMP IS FUCKING SENDING ME LMAOOOOOO

I already replied this to a comment on instagram but i don't think i'll write anything more cohesive about my thoughts on deandra 'doorway haunter' reynolds: she is serving carrie white with a side of regina george after she got hit by that bus. haunting the doorway while her loser brother is hanging out with his loser friend, making fun of old skin mags they found. it's not like she wants to be part of that, but she would have loved to shoot the invitation down.