SHUT UP I LOVE THE HEADCANON THAT KEITH THOUGHT LANCES NAME WAS TAYLOR BECAUSE LANCE KEPT SAYING THEY CALL ME THE TAILOR THAT’S SO FUNNY COZ WHEN LANCE SAYS ‘UH THE NAMES LANCE’ KEITH JUST BLANKS BECAUSE WHO THE FUCK IS LANCE AND WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE TAYLOR DJDJDJHDJJR
slkhfsdkjfdfthis headcanon is the funniest fucking thing i’ve ever heard and i cant stop thinking about it so here have a fic just fucknfg TAKE IT
(dedicated to my friend Feña who turned 23 today) ❤
The group had grown a lot since the day they left Earth in Blue. They had Coran and Allura, and Krolia and Romelle too and even a weird space dog whose relationship to the spacetime continuum not even Coran understood. So despite having lost the castle in their battle they were all okay. Better than ever, because Shiro was there now too.
The return of the real Shiro had an uplifting affect on the whole group. The first night of their long, long roadtrip was spent camped together on an uninhabited forest-covered moon halfway to the base where they would be picking up Matt, whiling the evening away around a fire in a small valley. For what they’d been through, spirits were surprisingly high. Maybe they were all still running on leftover adrenaline. The reality of the long road ahead of them back to Earth hadn’t quite had time to sink it yet–nor had the depth of Lotor’s betrayal.
For now they simply existed in this place between places. This time between times.
An interlude.
The return to life and the imminent return to Earth had Shiro in a rare nostalgic mood. It surprised Keith, because Shiro never talked about Earth. Never. Not even to Keith. He knew it was almost certainly because of Adam, but he never pried. But now all Shiro wanted to do was talk about Earth and the Garrison and the people there (though Keith still noted how he carefully skirted around Adam) and pretty soon everyone else was talking about the Garrison too.
“You think they told our families we ran away?” Hunk wondered.
“Doubt it,” Keith sighed from across the fire. They were all either in their sleeping bags or sitting on top of them, looking at the fire and the forest and the stars. “Not with the way they lied about Kerberos.”
The idea that the Garrison had told their families they were dead was something that had weighed on Hunk, Pidge, and Lance ever since they left, and nobody really wanted to revisit that sore subject. Not when the date of their return was actually set.
“We’ll be home soon,” Lance interjected when the silence had gone on a beat too long. “Whatever the Garrison said about us, we’ll be there with the truth soon enough.”
“Wait, do you think they’ll try and arrest us for breaking Shiro out?” Hunk wondered suddenly.
“I’d like to see them try,” Shiro laughed. “I’ve still got a bone to pick with them on that one. I can’t believe their reaction to that situation was to strap me down like some kind of alien–no offense to present company,” he added hastily, offering a rueful grin to the three Alteans, one Galra, and one overgrown space puppy on her lap, who were grouped together and listening curiously to the Garrison stories.
Pidge snorted. “I can believe that. WhatI still can’t believe is that Lance recognized Keith from a hundred yards away in the dark just because of his bad haircut, despite not having seen him in over a year.”
What?
Lance sputtered on top of his sleeping bag as Keith looked his way in surprise. No one had ever told Keith THAT part of the story.
Eyes squeezed shut and face screwed up in irritation, Lance crossed his arms testily before shooting back, “Yeah, well, I still can’t believe Keith didn’t recognize me from two feet away in a brightly lit room considering we went to school together and shared classes and flight lessons for five years!”
Keith felt his eyebrow twitching. Not this again. “Look, I’m bad with faces, okay?”
“Whatever. Five years, Keith!”
“No, I mean it, I am really bad with faces, Lance. I thought you were someone completely different for a second when you guys barged in on my rescue mission.”
Hunk laughed. “What, really? That’s hilarious,” he laughed even harder, ignoring Lance’s expression of outrage. “Who did you think he was?”
Despite himself, Keith felt his cheeks heating. It probably wasn’t visible by firelight, right? Besides, it wasn’t like it was his fault he was terrible at facial recognition. “This kid named Taylor,” Keith admitted. “I think he was a cargo pilot? He must’ve been because we didn’t have any classes together anymore my last year before I dropped out.”
Hunk scratched his chin thoughtfully before turning to Pidge, who shrugged. “Taylor? I don’t remember a Taylor.”
Keith scoffed. “I don’t know how anyone wouldn’t remember him, he was so loud and obnoxious. He’s literally the only person I remember by name.”
Shiro hummed from his own sleeping bag, pushing himself up onto his one elbow so that it pooled around his waist. “Actually, I don’t remember a Taylor from your year either. Are you sure that was his name?”
Frustrated, Keith furrowed his eyebrows at Shiro, who was once known on campus for his weird ability to learn every student’s name within the first week of classes and never forget them, even years after their graduation. “I’m pretty sure,” Keith argued, although now he wasn’t quite so sure anymore. Shiro knew everyone. “He was always going on and on trying to get everyone to call him The Taylor–like, who even does that? If I’d told anyone at the Garrison to call me The Keith I would’ve been shoved into a locker.”
Lance made a weird squeaking noise while Pidge and Hunk simultaneously sucked in breaths.
“I know, right?” Keith responded, feeding off their reaction with a little more confidence. “He was ridiculous. I mean…”
Here Keith petered out for a moment, rubbing his fingers together. An old nervous tic he was never able to train himself out of. Maybe it was his happiness at having Shiro back. Maybe it was the way Shiro had finally opened up and started talking about Earth again. Maybe it was finding his mom and finally starting to understand himself as a person… Either way, these people were his family and they were always opening up to each other. It wouldn’t kill him to open up a little about himself, right? Just a little?
“I mean, it was kinda cute,” Keith admitted. “I guess I had a crush on him or whatever. Sorry I don’t remember you from the Garrison, Lance, I just didn’t pay much attention to other people back then–I don’t think I could name anyone else from our class.” He shrugged as casually as he could and then looked up to gauge everyone’s reactions, just a tad bit nervous considering he basically just came out to them.
What he wasn’t expecting was absolutely gobsmacked faces from Hunk, Pidge, and Lance–Lance most of all, who looked like he was two seconds from spontaneously combusting.
“What?” Keith said, jumping on the defense faster that light speed.
“Nothing!” Lance barked, talking over Hunk who had tried to respond first.
Hunk was grinning now like there was no tomorrow. “Are you–”
“Hunk, shut up!” Lance hissed, and promptly leapt from his sleeping bag to tackle Hunk to the ground.
Pidge, however, was totally in the clear to turn to Keith (who was now pretty thoroughly confused and sure he was missing something) with a maniacal grin. “I think what Hunk is trying to say is that are you sure you don’t remember Lance from the Garrison?”
Keith tried and failed to understand the evil look on her face. To her left Hunk was now pinning Lance facedown in the soil and staring at Keith like he had won the grand prize in a contest he didn’t know he’d entered. Keith looked to Shiro for help, but Shiro just said, “Nope, I’m checking out of this one,” and laid down and rolled over, leaving his back to the group.
A hundred separate times Keith had sat down and thought back on his old Garrison classmates, trying to find Lance somewhere in his memories. He’d been so offended that Keith didn’t remember him.. But he couldn’t force himself to remember! Nowhere in all those memories was a tall, lanky beanpole with shaggy brown hair, brown eyes like the reflection under midday sparkling pond water, smile like the sun. Nobody in his memories was.. for lack of a better word, big enough to fill the place in his life that Lance took up now.
“I’m pretty sure..?” Keith offered, but it sounded like defeat even to him. He had no idea what was happening. From underneath Hunk Lance groaned loudly into the dirt, mumbling words Keith couldn’t quite understand.
“Uhuh,” Hunk grinned, “and what if I told you that Lance grew almost nine inches in the time between when you guys stopped sharing classes together and Shiro’s rescue?”
Keith stared at him blankly.
“One…” Pidge hummed.
Keith blinked again, looking at the back of Lance’s head as a seed of panic sprouted in his belly. No. No way.
“Two…”
Lance groaned into the dirt again, and Keith finally understood what he was saying: “I can’t believe I used to call myself that.”
“Three…”
“Oh my god,” Keith breathed, and Pidge leaned back on her hands in satisfaction.
“There it is,” she said.
.
.
(Suffice it to say Keith never lived that one down, and Hunk had a great story to tell at their wedding.)
but that ask reminded me of this pynch fake dating au i was determined to write but probably never will where ronan’s like “adam pretend to date me to piss off my brother lol” and then Fake Dating Shenanigans that abundantly lack self awareness until finally it gets to the part where declan’s like in town and ronan’s like “hey you know adam, he’s my boyfriend now HA” and declan’s like… pissed and pulls ronan aside and ronan’s thinking haha got him until declan says “i know exactly what you’re doing here”
and ronan’s like wait what we’ve been here 2 seconds how the fuck can he tell this is a fake relationship “you think i didn’t already know that you and adam were together???? and now you’re just telling me this here because you apparently think i’m some kind of bigot and want me to react badly” and ronan’s like “WAIT back up wtf do you mean you already knew me and adam were together?” “i’m not an idiot ronan i’ve seen the way you two look at each other. i’ve known that for months”
and then declan keeps talking about how he’s upset ronan assumed he was going to be a homophobe and ronan’s vaguely aware that this is probably an important conversation but also now everything is rearranging itself in his mind because him and adam have been fake dating for A WEEK TOPS and how has he been looking at adam? wait. holy fuck. and then he’s like “uh yeah i’ll talk to you about this later. glad you’re not a homophobe. bye” while declan is still mid sentence and runs off to have his big rom com confession to adam
Uraraka swallows the bitter tang on her tongue at the sight of Deku—rubbing the back of his neck and blushing as he fumbles for words with Melissa across the room.
Stupid party. Stupid dance. If it were up to her she’d just disappear to her room and leave the others to defend the place incognito.
But she’s a hero just like the rest of them and she’s not going to let her jealous heart get the best of her.
“Well?”
It’s more of a demand than a question, and Uraraka doesn’t have to turn to know it’s Bakugou—but she does turn and it’s to see him holding out his hand like a god demanding tribute.
She looks from his hand to his face, her brows knit together in confusion. Even though some of their classmates have made their way to the dance floor…could he really mean…?
“Tch. We’re supposed to be here together or some shit, right?” Then, in more of a grumble than his usual commanding tone, he adds, “Speaking of…”
He pulls a white flower barrette from where he’s clipped it to his vest, holding it out to her like this isn’t the class hothead offering her a matching hairpiece to his suit.
Her cheeks heat up and there’s red at the tips of his ears as she meets his eye. Too surprised to actually reach out and take the flower, she says, “I… Bakugou… what…?”
“Gods fucking dammit,” he mutters, taking a step toward her and sweeping a lock of hair from her face, clipping it away with the barrette and stepping back to examine his work—expression unreadable as it drifts from the flower, down to her dress, and back up to her face. “Don’t touch it.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and scowls, looking away from her and back toward the dance floor and Uraraka chews on her lip. Gaze flicking back briefly to Deku, she takes a breath to steady herself before turning toward Bakugou.
“Before…were you trying to ask me to—”
“I wasn’t asking, shit-wit,” Bakugou says, eyes still focused ahead of him.
Uraraka can’t help the small smirk that tugs at the corners of her mouth. “I didn’t know you could dance.”
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I know how to dance?” His voice is something like an amused growl as his eyes slide back to hers.
Uraraka finds herself smiling fully now, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at him with a challenge heavy on her tongue. “So you do know how to dance? Wanna prove it?”
“I already made that pretty fucking clear,” he says, grabbing her hand and dragging her out onto the dance floor.
His other hand settles at her waist like he’s done this before and Uraraka can’t help but shake her head and laugh, even though his fingers are sending sparks up her spine in a way that has nothing to do with his Quirk.
“You’re kinda amazing, Bakugou, you know?” she asks, her face heating up as the words spill out of her before she can stop them.
But he blushes too, looking away from her and giving that familiar “tch” and something about all of it is comforting in a strangely easy way.
“Yeah well,” he says, meeting her eyes and holding them. “You’re my partner for this whole shitty thing so you better stay on my level.”
Uraraka doesn’t bother fighting her smile. “You can count on me, Bakugou.”
an adam parrish birthday ficlet; 2.5k, adam/ronan, fluff+friendship (thanks to @theamagician for betaing – all remaining mistakes are mine!)
‘Cause we’re the masters of our own fate We’re the captains of our own souls There’s no way for us to come away ‘Cause boy we’re gold, boy we’re gold – “Lust for Life”, Lana del Rey
Adam Parrish hadn’t always disliked his birthday. Some of them hadn’t been terrible – not great, but he didn’t have much to compare them against – which meant he could vividly recognise just how bad the terrible ones had been.
When he was three, his grandmother came to visit for the first time. He remembered her only very vaguely, because his three-year-old self was much more impressed by the cake she had brought. It had blue icing on it, and tasted better than anything Adam had ever had, which wasn’t saying much.
When he was four, his grandmother came to visit for the second and last time. She only made it as far as the door of the double-wide before she ran into his father. Adam didn’t know, at the time, what “being drunk” meant, but he could remember the screaming and anger and the sound of a bottle thrown. After that, his grandmother stopped visiting. His mother was the only one who still got to speak to her, in hushed and resentful tones on the phone.
The only thing Adam had left of her were the five envelopes that she had sent between his fifth and tenth birthdays. There had been no card for his eleventh. Adam didn’t know why they stopped – if she’d died or just stopped bothering. He’d never dared ask his mother, for fear that it would be the latter. After a while, it hadn’t seemed to matter anymore.
this is the dumbest thing i’ve ever written but i’ve been thinking about this all day
“Well, I’d be Fred.”
Blue shoots Gansey a glare. “Why’d you say that?”
Gansey frowns, as if he doesn’t know how to explain. “I don’t know. It just makes sense. And Adam would be Velma, obviously.”
“I wanted to be Velma,” Blue says crossly. “Who am I getting left with? Because, just so you know, Gansey, it’s pretty sexist of you to lump me in as Daphne just because I’m a girl and she’s the only other girl character left.”
“I wasn’t going to say that,” Gansey says unconvincingly.
Adam lifts his head up from the notes he’s been taking. It’s Sunday and they’re at Monmouth because Adam and Gansey are supposed to be working on a project for school. But then Blue had shown up, and in the ensuing jumps between conversation topics, Scooby-Doo was mentioned, which is how Adam now finds himself listening to Blue and Gansey trying to sort them all into the Scooby gang roles.
Adam categorically does not care. He hopes Ronan gets back from Mass soon.
“You absolutely were!”
“Okay, fine, I might have been. But then if you’re not Daphne you’ll have to be…”
“If you say Scrappy-Doo, so help me God, Gansey,” Blue snaps.
He grins good-naturedly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The door swings open, announcing Ronan’s return and Adam audibly sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God.”
Ronan smirks. “Happy to see me, Parrish?”
Adam’s cheeks flush. “Please, just…weigh in on their ridiculous conversation and then maybe me and Gansey can get back to work.”
Ronan sits on the floor next to Adam. “What conversation is that?”
“Scooby-Doo,” Blue says. “We’re trying to decide who would be who out of all of us.”
“Easy,” Ronan says. “What have you got so far?”
“I’m Fred,” Gansey says as Blue rolls her eyes, but before be can continue, Ronan scoffs.
“Wrong already.”
“Alright then, how would you do it?” Blue asks.
Ronan grins like he’s thought about this a lot, and hell, maybe he has. “It’s not a perfect match up, but Sargent, you’re Fred. Gansey’s Daphne.”
Blue laughs delightedly as Gansey offers a slightly pained smile.
“Parrish is obviously Velma.”
“That seems to be the consensus,” Adam drawls.
“And then…I’d have to be Shaggy, and Noah would be Scooby.”
“Yeah, alright, your version wins,” Blue says, clearly pleased to be the ring-leader in this scenario.
“I can get on board with Daphne, actually,” Gansey says. “She has great hair, and she’s actually very resourceful.”
“Yes, okay,” Adam says. “Now that we’ve settled that super important matter, can we get back to this, Gansey?”
Gansey finally concedes and comes closer to help.
“Ooooh, but what about the Scoobies from Buffy?” Blue asks.
Kaminari deflated in front of him, a flute of champagne clutched in his outstretched hand.
“You won’t even break your no drinking rule for the Heroes’ Gala? Dude, have a little fun!”
Bakugou gave the room a sweeping once-over, taking in the lavish decor, the expensive tailored suits, the glittering gowns in every color. There were small, spindly tables set up along the edges of a shining dance floor and long tables overflowed with food and drink at the back of the room. A stage, where awards would be presented and speeches given later in the evening, dominated the space beyond the dance floor.
Kaminari deflated in front of him, a flute of champagne clutched in his outstretched hand.
“You won’t even break your no drinking rule for the Heroes’ Gala? Dude, have a little fun!”
Bakugou gave the room a sweeping once-over, taking in the lavish decor, the expensive tailored suits, the glittering gowns in every color. There were small, spindly tables set up along the edges of a shining dance floor and long tables overflowed with food and drink at the back of the room. A stage, where awards would be presented and speeches given later in the evening, dominated the space beyond the dance floor.
a/n: despite goodwill, human intimacy cannot occur without mutual pain. they never thought it was supposed to be literal. in which some idiot cursed the Ladybug and the Cat to experience pain whenever they touch.
a one shot for MariChat May Day 12- touch starved.
It is often said that you’ll see stars if a kiss is good enough.
Ladybug is fairly sure this isn’t what was meant, but it’s a somewhat humorous thought that flashes through her mind as the pain lances up from her lips and runs through her body. A sharp, stabbing pain that leaves an acrid taste in her mouth, mingling oddly with the fading scent of the menthol chapstick that had been on Chat Noir’s mouth.
It’s working. A gambit she knew would cause her pain is paying off. The only price is a few seconds bent over in agony, fighting off waves of nausea and stars shooting across her sight.
Somewhere to her left, Chat Noir has broken out of Dark Cupid’s spell with a high pitched yowl, hands furiously wiping at his mouth as if that somehow could relieve the sting of the magic.
The stars in her sight begin fading, and she looks at an irritated, confused Chat Noir with an apologetic, pained grin.
“Sorry Kitty. It was the only way I could think of to break you out of it.”
His mouth works to say something beyond the pain and the grogginess settling over him, post-hatred induced stupor, but Dark Cupid makes his entrance again and it’s all lost to the heat of battle.
She gives Chat Noir the usual air salute once it’s all said and done, the space between his fist and hers giving him that same old familiar longing. He hides it well and she usually seems unaffected, save for this time.
There’s something too melancholy in her expression to let him feel like this all ended on a good note.
“Ladybug…is everything okay?”
She shakes her head, nervously looking from him to a point over his shoulder, avoiding eye contact.
“Look…the kiss, I had to break the spell somehow. Figured something stronger than the regular pain would work best…” She wrings her hands together, anxiety punctuated by the beeping of her earrings. Time and circumstance are not on her side today.
“Wait kiss…What kiss? I thought….” He is cut off by another set of high pitched chimes coming from his own ring.
“I should go.” She shoots him another sorry smile, before sprinting off into the distance.
His quiet goodbye is left to fade in the growing space between them, swallowed by the backdrop noise of the bubbling fountain.
He touches his fingers to his lips, piecing together her words and the lingering threads of pain that made them slightly sore to the touch.
bullshit central 