Lance Drops The Trash Bag On The Asphalt In Front Of The Pharmaceutical Manufacturing. He Has Never Thought

Oh my goooood! You're amazing and so talented, asdjfdfj, thank you! <3 (♥ω♥ ) ~♪

Thank you so so much! I don't think you know how amazing you are, i check your blog many times per day and your fics bring pure joy to my life :D <3--I'm posting this cuz tumblr likes to eat my messages--

@yikesjosten the warm feeling is liquifying my brain. pal

tfw you see someone’s art style so good you just

xxdanaja , rebekakurnik and I wrote a song about Minho. Don’t you just wanna hug him?! :D look look look greenies ! if you want to hug minho clap your hands

On this very day of today, i uploaded these two arties on my society6! ( https://society6.com/xxdanaja ) 

My day was ok, even though my family got sick as well and because of that we did not go to the christmas market :( I feel really bad/sick as well, but need to work tomorrow because I am new to the job and dont want to mess it up :( Tomorrow is going to be a long day... Oh, I also need to buy your present tomorrow and I will send it soon. I just want it to be weekend already. How about you? xxSecretSanta

oh too bad :/ me too! living with sleep deprivision is tiring. i had 4 exams this week. but yay, just one more day ! tell me something more about you? :) here, have this web :D http://thequietplaceproject.com/thethoughtsroom/ <3

''Stop looking at me,'' Lance says, decisively not looking back at Shiro. He gets Pidge out of his range, but she steps back in and jabs him in the face with a pad.

 He is not expecting a response. Shiro will give one, but Lance doesn't mind. He doesn't mind, and calls himself a self-liar, hyphenated. He calls himself a liar like a cheerful punch. Gotta have a relationship with yourself.

 ''Good,'' Shiro says, arms folded, at ease, barefoot. Barefoot. A walking exposed nerve – and assured. Hell. ''You can twist your foot when you knee.''

 What a cliché, what a fucking cliché. I'd still hear – say something like, I'd choose you twice, a cliché like that, and watch m—

 ''You twist your foot when you knee,'' Lance mutters, steps back in defense, too far. Into the pretense of safety.

 ''Mhm,'' Pidge glances at Shiro, and starts circling around Lance, ''head transparency.''

 This is the opposite of losing oneself in a crowd. This is self-awareness you don't know what to do with. Counting your steps on accident. Singled out by himself.

 ''Okay,'' Lance says, ''okay, break time, Pidge. Go go. I'm going.'' This feeling is so him, quintessentially, that he could personalise words for it.

Shiro's arms are folded, at ease, and he's too still be a this distracting. He's smiling. ''You're walking on your tiptoes.''

 Lance steps down fully, stepping backward. Don't hide.

 ''I'm not,'' Lance says, wholly grounded.

 ''I didn't say anything, muffin.'' Shiro is smiling.

 Right there. Right here. Lance's brain screams faux offense, take take, and it screams you choose muffin, and it screams are you making fun?

 Oh, Lance is intrigued. People aren't just distractions. They shape what you look at and you fall into piece-by-piece reappraisal. People are really fucking powerful.

 Lance's mind is screaming: be serious, I'm serious.

He is distracted, and he likes it.

https://society6.com/xxdanaja

“Okay,” he said after forever. “Maybe okay will be our always.”