imagine lance talking to everyone but his team about his insecurities? Like the yupper, or his lion, or an unconscious prisoner, but the moment hunk or shiro or anyone confronts him hes back into his defensive “arrogant act”.
Summary: The “Do you love him?” scene, but gayer. Michael’s POV. In which Mr. Heere ain’t no fool, but he is father of the year.
Word Count: 1,147
AN: I know 0 things about weed and this is mad tacky so bear w/me, lmao. I don’t really know where I was going with this, I just wanted to add more Drama™. When I started I had a sequel planned, but I’ve since forgotten how that was gonna go…so, if you want a sequel, hmu and give me ideas!
He’d hoped it would feel better, burning this stuff. He’d been just high enough when he stormed inside to grab it that he hadn’t stopped to consider whether it was a good idea. But now, watching the limited edition Magic: the Gathering card shrivel and blacken in the ashcan, it kinda just felt overdramatic.
And maybe he regretted it, just a little.
No, he couldn’t think that. He was angry with Jeremy. Jeremy had been treating him like he was nothing for months now. Squip or no squip, Michael couldn’t allow himself to roll over and forgive that. Jeremy was the one who’d burned everything they had. Michael was just finishing the job.
I wonder if Lance struggles with regretting sneaking out that night Shiro crashed on Earth because if he didn’t he wouldn’t be stuck in space fighting a war for the rest of his life.
I wonder if he gets upset at himself for feeling that way. He /knows/ that it was a good thing that he did what he did, so it’s selfish for him to regret it. But he still can’t help but feel that way sometimes, because he probably will never see Earth or his family again because of his own actions.
A headcanon about one of my rarepairs: My rare pair is Courfiustaire and they like Elvis and other old fashioned cheesy love songs a lot and dance around the cluttered apartment in lots of twirls and careful steps to “Love me tender” playing from a grammophone that Marius’ aunt gave them while the tea is boiling with warm sunlight streaming through the windows which are loaded with succulents and the window panes are stained with splatterd paint.
A headcanon that I rarely get the chance to talk about: All Vietnamese-French Amis having their version of the Musain in District 13 of Paris, teaching children proper Vietnamese and having arguments about mundane things with Patron-Minette who run the sugar cane juice food truck.
alternatively: Marius and his Grandfather who loves Marius dearly but only knows abusive ways to raise him.