Hey! I Wanna Write Again! Send Me Prompts! Preferably Fluffy Ones Because I Need Summery Fluff!

Can someone just………………. explain French to me?

We lay in the moonlight

The snow falling gently just outside the window

Our hands touch

She takes my fingers

I hold on tight

The room is quiet

My tears are silent

At one tiny gasp, one irregular breath

She rolls to face me

She asks me three words

And when I shake my head

She pulls me close

Her grip is like a vice

My fingers lock her close

We hold on

Afraid to let go

Afraid to sleep

Afraid to see morning break just beyond the snow

I sit in a cramped chair

I watch the snow melt off the window

The sun is rising, blue and yellow over the horizon

It's just me now

I don't have her touch

I won't have it for months

But I have her smile

I have her voice in my head

Her laugh in my mind

Her kisses on my lips

Her touch on my skin

Her love writ into my body

She is not here with me

Not in the physical form

But she is always with me

She is always loving me

The sky isn't grey

The moon has set

Snow is nowhere to be found

But still I feel her touch

Still I note her smile

Still I hear her words

Feel her kisses

Hold her hand

See her face

I will count down the days

Until I can tell her I love her

Without an inch between us

Old Habits Die Hard

Keith and Lance’s New Year’s Resolutions:

1. Eat less sweets

2. Work out every morning

3. Go to bed early

4. Organize the basement

5. Spend more time with each other

One

Lance was very weak when it came to sugar. And of course, Keith had put ‘cut back on sugar’ at the top of their resolutions list, like some kind of monster. Maybe it would be better at the bottom of the list? Or in the middle? It was kind of insulting that he had put it at the top! And that knowing little look he’d given Lance? Ugh.

Keith’s unreasonable request was the exact reason why Lance was in the kitchen at 2:43am, sitting on the floor and halfway through a carton of rocky road ice cream. He was eating it out of spite. His boyfriend was being ridiculous, and Lance was not going to stand for it.

In retrospect, maybe eating a carton of ice cream just a few hours before he had to wake up and get ready for work had been a really bad idea. Lance groans, burying his face in his pillow and clutching his stomach.

“Should I stay home?” Keith frets, checking his forehead for the millionth time. “You seemed fine last night…”

“No!” Lance says quickly. Keith did not need to see him drown himself in pepto bismol and Sprite. Also, there might be a couple empty ice cream cartons he needed to dispose of. Just a couple. “No, go to work… I’ll be fine. It’s probably just a 24 hour thing.”

His boyfriend gives him an odd look, then rolls his eyes. “Does this have anything to do with the empty ice cream carton in the freezer?”

His blood freezes in his veins and he swallows very loudly. “No?” He says, very convincingly. Keith was going to be so convinced.

There’s a soft scoff and then a hand ruffling his hair fondly. “I knew it. I’ll call your work and let them know you caught a bug. Want me to have Hunk bring you some crackers and Sprite?”

“Please…” He moans, clutching his stomach as another wave of nausea hits.

“Will do,” Keith chuckles, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And tonight when I get home, I’m getting rid of anything sugary we still own. I’ll find that secret stash of yours, McClain.”

There’s a sense of finality in his tone that both makes him nervous and turns him on a little. “Okay.” He mumbles guiltily, settling in to deal with his horrible mistake.

Two

“I don’t want to.” Keith groans, pulling the blankets up over his head.

Lance puts his hands on his hips, huffing. “Keith Kogane, you were the one who decided it would be a good idea to get up at the ass crack of dawn and go to the gym.”

“We did that yesterday.” The Korean whines petulantly.

“The list says every morning, so we’re going.”

The covers are pushed back slowly, revealing a mop of messy black hair and amethyst eyes narrowed to evil little slits. Surprisingly, Lance was the early bird in this relationship. It drove Keith absolutely nuts, which was why he had decided that if he was going to be disturbed by his boyfriend in ungodly hours of the morning, he might as well make the most of it.

But this morning, he was not having it.

Lance is unprepared for the sudden attack, squawking as his boyfriend launches himself at him, yanking him gracelessly back into the bed and aggressively koala hugging him.

“No.” Comes the verdict.

Lance almost wants to struggle, but then Keith presses a line of kisses over the exposed skin of his neck and tucks the warm blanket around them, and he’s weak. Leave it to Keith to play dirty.

“Okay.” He sighs.

And there went their second resolution.

Three

“We should go to bed.” Lance yawns, rubbing his eyes and looking at the clock. It read 10:38pm.

Keith glances up from his computer, where he’d been playing Poptropica for the past three hours, hoping lance hadn’t noticed (He had). “Can’t we stay up for another half hour? I’m almost done with this isla- uh… thing.”

Lane throws him an amused look, picking up the book on the coffee stable he’d been meaning to read. “Yes, finish playing Zomberry Island. We can stay up another half hour.”

His boyfriend gives him a sheepish, grateful little smile before turning back to his screen. The two settle into comfortable silenced, the sounds of clicking coming from Keith’s computer and the rasp of pages against fingertips filling the room between them.

Time flies past, neither of them really keeping tabs. Keith finishes Zomberry Island and starts on another one, completely engrossed in the screen. Lance loses himself to the plot of his book. Neither of them notice the time.

Well, not until Lance’s phone buzzes angrily, letting him know that it was well past the time for it to be plugged in for the night. He passes a hand over his face and marks the page, sitting up to see what it was fussing about. He freezes when he reads the time.

3:07am.

“Keith,” Lance says, staring in silent horror. “Babe, I think we should go to bed.”

“But I’m almost…” He trails off, falling back into his hyperfixation.

“No, Kogane, it’s bedtime.” Lance walks over, gently pulling his hands from the keyboard and stealing a kiss.

Keith gives him a dazed look, then glowers. “Hey, I was focusing.”

“I know.” He says, amused. He turns his phone on, then shows him the time. Keith’s eyes widen. “But it’s seriously time for us to go to sleep.”

Keith’s mouth twists into a wry smile as he lets Lance pull him from the chair and towards their bedroom. “We’re really bad at this whole resolutions thing, aren’t we?”

“The worst.” Lance laughs.

Four

“No.” Lance says stubbornly, standing at the top of the basement stairs. “Absolutely not.”

Keith kicks a box out of his way, wading into the piles of random and useless crap and the sea of boxes. “But we said that we’d do this.”

“The Lance that said we’d clean this monstrosity was also drunk and considering dying his hair bright pink. I am not that Lance anymore, Keith.”

The Korean lets out a snort of amusement, looking up at a stack of boxes that was taller than him. “Well… somebody’s gotta do it.”

Lance crosses his arms, leaning against the banister. “That somebody is not going to be me. And knowing you, you’re going to get through half of this and I’ll find you at four in the morning sitting in a pile of old clothes and covered in dust because you found an old toy and you’re playing with it.”

Keith gives the boxes a reproachful look, but even he can’t deny that. “Yeah…”

“We can bribe the Holts and Hunk to do it with pizza and beer.” Lance shrugs.

“Yeah.” His boyfriend nods, hardly taking a second to agree. “Yep. Okay. Let’s do that.”

“C’mon, mullet.” Lance chuckles. “Get outta there before I lose your short ass to dust and spiders.”

“Spiders?!” Keith shrieks, immediately jumping away from the boxes and bounding up the stairs.

“You fought intergalactic space monsters and you’re afraid of spiders?” Lance laughs, switching off the light and closing the basement door.

“It’s different, Lance! They have too many eyes and legs!”

“Whatever you say.” Comes the amused reply as they leave the messy basement to debate arachnids.

Five

“So I bought all of the movies you texted me because I couldn’t pick. Also I got Mike and Ikes, licorice, Reese’s, Twix, and a shit ton of other stuff. And Chinese.”

Lance looks up as Keith dumps the haul down on the counter, smiling fondly and nursing his cup of tea. His boyfriend looks up, then walks over and tips his chin up, giving him a soft kiss.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks quietly, his amethyst eyes searching Lance’s.

The Cuban gives him a wobbly, wet smile, shrugging. He’d forgotten a dose of his anti-anxiety meds and had called Keith at work in the middle of a panic attack. Keith had immediately packed his things, talking to Lance as he headed to the store to pick up things for a relaxing evening.

“C’mon.” Keith says, his tone soothing, leading Lance to the couch. “You relax and I’ll put a movie in.”

Lance settles himself on the couch while Keith slots a disney movie into the DVD player, bustling about to get their food and snacks ready for the night. It was going to be a long one. Keith was determined to calm his boyfriend down so he could sleep easily tonight.

The two settle into a cocoon of food and drinks and blankets, ready for their night.

“Thank you.” Lance says quietly as the opening credits of their movie start rolling.

“Of course.” Keith gives a soft look and an even softer kiss. “We’ll make Friday nights movie nights, okay?”

“Okay.” Lance whispers, pillowing his head against Keith’s shoulder, smiling to himself.

Maybe they were bad at keeping trivial resolutions, but they excelled at the ones that meant the most. And, really, that was all that mattered.

yall haven’t written the next chapter of ur fanfic and it really shows

Hello Tumblr…

So as of recent, we’re losing my grandmother. It’s been very hard for everyone, as she was an incredible woman. Kind, gracious, would give you everything she owned and then some if you needed it.

Her most prized possession was her house. Built in 1913. A living antique, full of her family history. If someone in the family doesn’t take the house, it will all be gone, sold off. So I’ve been tasked with taking the home.

Yeah! Free home! Except like…I’m from California. The home is in Arkansas. I don’t know Arkansas. I don’t have connections or know anyone. I’m starting from scratch and I don’t have a lot to my name right now. I am only 22 after all, and this has been thrust upon very suddenly. (For the record, I consented. My grandma means a lot to me.)

So while I hate asking this, here’s the situation, and here I be, asking for help. It leaves a bitter fucking taste in my mouth so if anyone wants any art or something as compensation, I’d be more than happy to oblige.

PayPal: notyaboku@gmail.com

Ko-Fi: Ko-fi.com/happyradio

The Mind is a Mysterious Thing 🧠

I found a company called “Frantic Meerkat” who makes journals whose sole purpose is to call me out

I stole this idea from another blog,but I cant reber the name. Every single person who reblogs this before 10 February will recieve a baby pokemon in their inbox,after this egg harches.

The Seas Greatest Treasure

Gotta love siren Keith.

Growing up, Lance had always loved the beach. Every weekend, when he was growing up, his family would all pile into the old minivan and head to the beach. The weekend was spent camping on the beach, building sandcastles, throwing each other into the waves, and hunting for small crabs and seashells.

The ocean was a part of Lance. He’d lived in Mariel, Cuba all his life, with the ocean behind their house and the sea breeze constantly ruffling his hair. When he was away from home, he found comfort in the gentle breezes, in saltwater taffy, in homemade meals and in good company.

He’d gone to Spain as an exchange student in his first year of college, but his parents had run out of money and he’d had to come home. Now, Lance spent his days working at the local market. He fished for the small company he worked at, bringing in fish in exchange for a paycheck. Working nights wasn’t ideal, but it brought home money for his large family.

Lately the pickings had been slim where he cast his nets, so Lance had chosen a new spot to lay traps in the sandbars just off the coast. It was the last thing he did when he left, daybreak at his back as he goes to make his delivery and retire for the day.

Lance whistles a tune to himself as he makes his way down the bank and into the high tides. His rowboat was bobbing gently as the surf lapped at the sand. The moon was high and full in the sky, shining down on the water.

There was something the Cuban adored about the sea at night. Everything felt so much more magical. The stars were brighter, the area quieter, the waves more peaceful. He didn’t forget the dangers lurking below in the sea, however. He was no fool - he had seen what the waves could do when they had the mind to. He’d seen countless boats drift ashore in pieces, their passengers coughing up seawater or unlucky enough to have been dragged down to the depths for the currents to play with and the fish to nibble at.

All of this echoed in his head as he rowed his way to the nets. Lance was one of the men lucky enough to earn the sea’s favor, despite taking her creatures away to make a living. He utters a small prayer of thanks, unsure who he was praying to. His mother was a devout catholic, but he had always been in awe of the beauty of marine life.

His nets were decently full, he realizes, as he drops an anchor and sets the oars aside. He rubs the soreness from his forearms, leaning over to pull the nets into the boat. To his frustration, they wouldn’t budge.

“Come on…” He says under his breath, yanking harder. The net moves slightly, but doesn’t give way. Lance scowls at the trap, turning and reaching for his pocket knife. Maybe it was stuck on the rocks.

The sight that comes when he turns back around is enough to make him drop his knife back into the boat. It clicks, the blade snapping open and shining devilishly when it lands on the floor.

Wide amethyst eyes stare up at him, alien in the way they glow pale in the moonlight. Sharp teeth poke out from a pair of rosy lips and onyx hair swirls like an oil spill in the water, just inches away from Lance’s arm.

The creatures lashes out mere seconds after Lance yanks his hand away, scrambling to the farthest corner of the boat. Sharp claws break the surface of the water, swiping at the open air. Lance looks down at the creature, at the bubbles that escape from between rows of sharp teeth as the beast snarls.

The net strains as this magnificent being writhes, desperately trying to get away. He’s stuck, Lance thinks belatedly, watching in stupefied wonder. He sees a flash of red and gold scales before the creature gives up, going limp and looking up, a pitiable gleam in his eyes.

“Christ,” The Cuban mutters to himself, edging closer and picking up his knife, just in case. That thing had teeth that looked needle sharp. “Where did you come from?”

It just stares at him, eyes wide and body tense.

“Huh, right. I guess you don’t talk much.” Lance says, feeling foolish as he talks to this being. He doubted that it could understand him. “I guess I should get you out of here, huh?”

There was one problem: Lance’s whole catch would be dumped from their confines and left to escape if he helped this… he racks his brain for a word. Siren? That seemed appropriate. He didn’t think that the sea would take too kindly to one of her children being kidnapped, let alone sold to a fish market. With a great sigh, the Cuban comes to a decision.

“I’m going to cut you free, alright?” He waves the knife.

The siren bares his teeth at him, elongated ears pinned to the side of his head.

Right. Okay. So… waving a knife at a creature who ate people for a living probably wasn’t the best idea. Lance scratches his head sheepishly. “No, I mean…” He pantomimes cutting something. “You know?”

It didn’t know. It begins to writhe again. The fish in the net do their best to dart out of the way, some of them just barely missing the razor sharp nails that the siren was waving about in his panic. Lance could see where the siren had tried biting and clawing himself free. He didn’t imagine that it’s teeth were meant to do that.

“No, No!” He quickly sets the knife down, raising his hands placatingly. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear! Oh, shoot. I’m going to- just hold still, alright?”

He picks up the knife, leaning over the side of the boat and yanking the net closer. The siren goes incredibly still, a stream of bubbles escaping his mouth right before the knife slices the net, tearing it open.

There’s a pregnant pause before all of the fish he’d captured rush out of the net and disappear into the black water, leaving the siren where he was. Lance hesitates, then reaches down and gently tugs it off the creature and back into his boat. He looks mournfully down at it. That was going to cost him a lot for repairs.

The siren breaks the surface after a moment. The Cuban looks up at the soft sound. He backs away slightly, reaching for the anchor rope just in case he needed to make a break for it. The siren drifts closer, then lets out an ear piercing screech.

“Woah!” Lance squawks, falling backwards, surprised at the noise. When he sits back up, he comes face to face with the beast.

The Cuban swallows hard, trying not to panic as the boat dips with the new weight. Bright, intelligent eyes stare into Lance’s, unblinking. From here, he can see the tiny scales patching the siren’s face, the needle-tip points of teeth poking out from under his upper lip.

He expects to be eviscerated. He expects to be sent home in his boat, a wreck of carnage and blood. That was if this being didn’t eat him and leave his bones to decorate the sea floor. Lance can feel each beat of his heart in his throat, can feel the blood turning to ice in his veins, can hear himself breathing.

To his surprise, the creature sinks back into the water with no fuss. It’s clawed, webbed fingers still grasp the side of the boat, keeping him close and watching the fisherman.

“U-Um,” Lance takes a deep breath, willing his hands to stop shaking. “Hey there. You, uh… you okay?”

The siren’s ears perk, it’s tail flicking and splashing water into the boat. It makes an inquisitive sound.

“Sorry for… you know, the whole net incident.” He rubs his neck. The being must’ve been hunting or chasing the shoal and gotten caught up in the trap. He winces. Maybe this wasn’t the best place to cast his nets.

The siren peers up at him. A moment later, Lance has a lapful of curious mer-being. He makes a soft sound - half fear, half surprise - and tries his best not to shove the creature off for fear of death or serious injury.

Lance gawks at the being, who simply makes himself comfortable and takes the Cuban’s face in his hands. He tilts his head this way and that, his amethyst gaze searching. One claw carefully brushes over his lips, over his nose, over his eyebrows. The siren makes a shrill sound of what he hoped was amusement when Lance quirks one of his eyebrows.

“So… am I forgiven?” He asks, wincing when the creature takes a handful of his hair and tugs.

The siren hums softly, then lets go of Lance’s face and stretches his tail out to his full length, looking up at Lance haughtily. I don’t know, his gaze seemed to say. Why should I forgive a petty mortal?

Lance hadn’t half a mind to be scared - he was too busy gazing at the siren’s tail in awe. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The colors ranged from the deepest garnet, to spilled blood ruby, to daybreak gold, and to a pale red just where his skin met his tail. Scales littered the siren’s torso, but the thing the Cuban was most entranced with were its fins.

It wasn’t anything he would’ve imagined them to be - no amount of cartoon movies could compare. The fins were a delicate membrane, stretched gracefully across strong muscles. They were a pale reddish color, gleaming in the moonlight.

Lance looks back up to a smug half smile, the beautiful siren’s ego significantly boosted. He coos softly, tilting his head knowingly. He was aware of his beauty. It was almost as if he was aware of the songs written about him too, Lance noted.

“You… you’re magnificent.” The Cuban offers a shy smile.

The creature wriggles in glee, reaching down to pet at his scales fondly. It looks up at Lance mischievously, eyes gleaming from under a mop of inky hair. You like these, don’t you? It’s gaze practically screams as he scratches at his scales.

Lance’s face heats up, his eyes widening. Was this the siren version of flirting? Oh God, he hoped he wasn’t reading too much into this. “Yes, your scales are- they’re very lovely.”

The siren watches him a moment, then leans down and picks one of the bigger ones off the base of his tail. They grew back, it wasn’t a huge loss. It takes Lance’s hand, pressing it into his palm and closing his fingers around it.

The Cuban looks down at his palm, then back up at the siren. “Oh, I couldn’t, really… this belongs to you.” He tries to hand it back to the siren. It growls loudly, thrusting Lance’s hand back toward him. He decides to keep it. “Well, um. Thank you for… not eating me. And for your scale.”

The siren preens, brushing a claw over his jawline before slipping back into the water. It peers up at Lance, making a soft noise.

“Will I see you again?” Lance asks hopefully, leaning over the side to better see his new familiar.

We shall see, the siren’s smirk tells him. With one more playful splash of water, the magnificent being ducks under the water. He’s gone in an instant, Lance’s eyes unable to make him out in the black depths of the sea.

The fisherman sits there for a long while. He picks up the net, looking down at it, unable to help the smile that creeps up on him. He looks back out at the sea, at the moon’s reflection, at the mysterious world that he could only dream of understanding.

Never had he been more in love with the ocean.

Part 1 of The Children of the Sea Part 2 | Part 3

weird asks that say a lot

in

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

7. earbuds or headphones?

8. movies or tv shows?

9. favorite smell in the summer?

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

12. name of your favorite playlist?

13. lanyard or key ring?

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

18. ideal weather?

19. sleeping position?

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

21. obsession from childhood?

22. role model?

23. strange habits?

24. favorite crystal?

25. first song you remember hearing?

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

28. five songs to describe you?

29. best way to bond with you?

30. places that you find sacred?

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

32. top five favorite vines?

33. most used phrase in your phone?

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

35. average time you fall asleep?

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

38. lemonade or tea?

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

41. last person you texted?

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

44. favorite scent for soap?

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

47. favorite type of cheese?

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

51. current stresses?

52. favorite font?

53. what is the current state of your hands?

54. what did you learn from your first job?

55. favorite fairy tale?

56. favorite tradition?

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

62. seven characters you relate to?

63. five songs that would play in your club?

64. favorite website from your childhood?

65. any permanent scars?

66. favorite flower(s)?

67. good luck charms?

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

70. left or right handed?

71. least favorite pattern?

72. worst subject?

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

82. pc or console?

83. writing or drawing?

84. podcasts or talk radio?

84. barbie or polly pocket?

85. fairy tales or mythology?

86. cookies or cupcakes?

87. your greatest fear?

88. your greatest wish?

89. who would you put before everyone else?

90. luckiest mistake?

91. boxes or bags?

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

93. nicknames?

94. favorite season?

95. favorite app on your phone?

96. desktop background?

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

98. favorite historical era?