Send Me A Fruit

Thank you for tagging me!!

My hair is actually hot pink but that's okay-

I tag: @i-am-here-for-klance @presumptivelyalesbian @chelebel @crydevilakira (hi guys it's reny)

Tag Game

go to this website and design yourself https://picrew.me/image_maker/9889 and then tag 4 people 

@the-erikalypse @ethan-loves-you @sugarnitwitch @fanbun (Only if u want too ) 

Can someone explain to me why writing is so hard when I actually want to do it

how to be a Disaster Gay™

The worse the explanation, the better.

the urge to write never leaves but the motivation to do so is a lover lost at war

Klancetober Day Three: Exploring Spooky Places 

*

“It’ll be fun!” Keith had said.

“It isn’t even that scary!” Keith had said.

“I bet it isn’t even haunted.” Keith had said.

And then they had watched a scary movie about people getting killed in abandoned houses, and here they were! In an abandoned house that all the other kids in their high school claimed was haunted. Kids were dared to go here to “prove their strength” during the month of October. Keith hadn’t dragged him there for that - no, his boyfriend was one of the crazies who believed in that stuff. Keith was hoping to find a ghost.

It had been two hours and all they had found was a bullfrog (Lance had leapt into Keith’s arms with a screech of terror, much to his own chagrin) and a few tattered sheets that had given Lance heart palpitations upon seeing them.

“We should go upstairs.” Keith says, breaking their silence to look up at the stairs.

“No,” Lance shoots that down quick. There was no way in hell they were falling through the stairs or giving their lives over to the axe murderer that was likely lurking in the shadows up there. “No, we should not.”

Keith looks vaguely disappointed, getting up from the floor and brushing the dust from his jeans. “Well, I’m going upstairs.”

“Keith!” The Cuban scrambles to his feet.

“You don’t have to come,” his boyfriend gives him a confident, cheeky little smirk. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

With a kiss and a wink, Keith leaves Lance in his stunned, terrified silence. The stairs creak, but he takes them two at a time, leaving Lance in the suffocating darkness. Oh. Okay. This was fine. He clutches the flashlight to his chest. The only sound in the room was the sharp intake of his breath.

In all reality, the place wasn’t so bad. It was a beautiful home, Victorian style and still furnished. The whole place was boarded up and covered in a thick layer of dust. But there was something… unsettling about the atmosphere. Maybe it was just Lance’s paranoia and anxiety, but he felt like he was being watched.

With each second that passed, his panic grew and his throat felt tighter and tighter. Keith was not back yet. It had to have been an hour. He checks his phone. No, it had only been ten minutes. Maybe his phone was just… really, really slow. Yeah. That was it.

Not a second later, Keith bursts down the stairs, dust flying up around him and the slats of wood under his feet screeching their protest. “Go!” He shrieks, grabbing Lance’s hand and dragging him behind.

Panic spikes and he takes off after Keith, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The two race through the undisturbed sitting room, down the long entryway, and through the front door. They don’t stop until they’re back on the long country road and gasping for breath.

“What… was that?” Lance wheezes, looking up at his wild eyed, dust covered boyfriend. “What did you see?”

Keith leans over, putting his hands on his knees and breathing deeply. He straightens only when he catches his breath, looking up at him. “It… It was a bat.”

“A… bat?” Lance stares him in disbelief. “You got scared by… a bat.”

“I thought it was a ghost!” Keith huffs.

They stare at each other for a long moment before a hysterical laugh bubbles up in Lance throat and he doubles over, laughing hard without really knowing why. It seems the hysteria is infectious, because Keith follows suit not long after.

“Can we go home?” The Cuban asks once he’d calmed, lightheaded and tired from the amount of emotion he’d endured for the past few minutes. “I want a shower. And my bed.”

“God, yes.” Keith sighs, reaching over and taking his hand. “Please.”

“You’re an idiot.” Lance informs him, affectionate. “And if you ever drag me back there again, I’m locking you in to deal with the dust and the bats all night.”

“That’s fair.” Keith laughs. “Well, at least we know it isn’t haunted now.”

The Cuban looks back at the house, at the tall structure boarded up and aging and rotting down to the ground. “Who knows,” he hums. “Maybe it is.”

Before he turns away, Lance could swear he saw a person wave to them from the balcony of the house.

Flower Asks

Alisons: Sexuality? 

Amaranth: Pronouns/Gender? 

Amaryllis: Birthday? 

Anemone: Favorite flower? 

Angelonia: Favorite t.v. show? 

Arum-Lily: What’s the farthest you’d go for a stranger? 

Aster: What’s one of your favorite quotes? 

Aubrieta: Favorite drink? 

Baby’s Breath: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? 

Balsam Fir: Have you ever been in love? 

Baneberries: Favorite song? 

Basket of Gold: Describe your family. 

Beebalm: Do you have a best friend? Who is it? 

Begonia: Favorite color? 

Bellflower: Favorite animal? 

Bergenia: Are you a morning or night person? 

Black-Eyed Susan: If you could be any animal for a day, what would it be?

Bloodroots: When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up? 

Bluemink: What are your thoughts on children? 

Blazing Stars: What are you afraid of? Is there a reason why? 

Borage: Give a random fact about your childhood. 

Bugleherb: How would you spend your last day on Earth?  

Buttercup: Relationship Status? 

Camelia: If you could visit anywhere, where would you want to go? 

Candytufts: When do you feel most loved? 

Canna: Do you have any tattoos?  

Canterbury Bells: Do you have any piercings?  

California Poppy: Height?  

Cardinal Flower: Do you believe in ghosts? 

Carnation: What are you currently wearing?  

Catnip: Have you ever slept with a nightlight? 

Chives: Who was the last person you hugged?  

Chrysanthemum: Who’s the last person you kissed?

Cock’s Comb: Favorite font? 

Columbine: Are you tired? 

Common Boneset: What are you looking forward to? 

Coneflower: Dream job? 

Crane’s-Bill: Introvert or extrovert? 

Crocus: Have you ever been in love? 

Crown Imperial: What’s the farthest you would go for someone you care about? 

Cyclamen: Did you have a favorite stuffed animal as a child? What was it? 

Daffodil: What’s your zodiac sign? 

Dahlia: Have you done anything worth remembering? 

Daisy: What do you feel is your greatest accomplishment? 

Daylily: What would you do if your parents didn’t like your partner(s)?  

Dendrobium: Who is the last person that you said “I love you” to?

False Goat’s Beard: What is something you are good at? 

Foxgloves: What’s something you’re bad at? 

Freesia: What are three good things that have happened in the past month? 

Garden Cosmos: How was your day today? 

Gardenia: Are you happy with where you’re at in your life? 

Gladiolus: What is something you hope to do in the next year or two? 

Glory-of-the-Snow: What are ten things that make you happy/you’re grateful to have in your life? 

Heliotropium: What helps you calm down when you feel stressed?  

Hellebore: How do you show affection? 

Hoary Stock: What are you proudest of? 

Hollyhock: Describe your ideal day. 

Hyacinth: What do you like to do in your free time?  

Hydrangea: How long have you known your best friend? How did you meet them?

Irises: Who can you talk to about (almost) everything?

Laceleaf: How many friends do you have?

Lantanas: What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received? 

Larkspur: What do you think of yourself? 

Lavender: What’s your favorite thing about yourself? 

Leather Flower: What’s your least favorite thing about yourself?  

Lilac: What’s something you liked to do as a child? 

Lily: Who was your best friend when you were a kid? 

Lily of the Incas: What is something you still feel guilty for? 

Lily of the Nile: What is something you feel guilty for that you shouldn’t feel guilty about?  

Lupine: What does your name mean? Why is that your name? 

Marigold: Where did you grow up? Tell us about it. 

Morning Glory: What was your bedroom like growing up? 

Mugworts: What was it like for you as a teenager? Did you enjoy your teenage years?  

Norwegian Angelica: Tell us about your mom.

Onions: Tell about your dad.  

Orchid: Tell about your grandparents. 

Pansy: What was your most memorable birthday? What made it be so memorable? 

Peony: What was your first job? 

Petunia: If you’re in a relationship, how did you meet your partner(s)? If you’re not in a relationship, how did you meet your crush/how do you hope to meet your future partner(s), if you want any? 

Pincushion: How do you deal with pain? 

Pink: Where is home? 

Plantain Lilies: If you could go back in time, what is one thing you would stop/change? 

Prairie Gentian: Who is someone you look up to? Describe them. 

Primrose: Describe your ideal life. 

Rhodendron: What is something you used to believe in as a child? 

Ricinus: Who’s the most important in your life? 

Rose: What’s your favorite sound? 

Rosemallows: What’s your favorite memory? 

Sage: What’s your least favorite memory? 

Snapdragon: At this moment, what do you want?  

St. John’s Wort: Is it easy or difficult for you to express how you feel about things? 

Sunflower: What is something you don’t want to imagine life without? 

Sweet Pea: How much sleep did you get last night? 

Tickseed: What’s your main reason to get up every morning? 

Touch-Me-Not: How do you feel about your current job? 

Transvaal Daisy: What’s your favorite item of clothing? 

Tropical White Morning Glory: Describe your aesthetic.  

Tulip: What would be the best present to get you? 

Vervain: What’s stressing you out most right now? 

Wisteria: How many books have you read in the past few months? What were they called? 

Wolf’s Bane: Where do you want to be in life this time next year?

Yarrow: Do you know what vore is?

Zinnia: Give a random fact about yourself.

Good evening! Does anyone have any music they listen to, specifically for writing? Unfortunately I’ve listened to my writing playlist for so long that it’s become my Normal Playlist and now I have nothing to use. 

Feel free to reblog with suggestions, shoot me an anon message, or simply comment! All is appreciated <3 

Galra AU Shidge... Not sure if that counts as a prompt but I can't think of anything to add to it

Hi! Let me say that I am so sorry that this took so, so long - but I really hope you enjoy this!

*

Ask to be Unbroken

The day Pidge met Takashi Shirogane was easily one of the worst days of her life.

It was the day after her entire family — the entire town — had been killed. She was the last, hidden away in the blood and carnage and wreckage, waiting for death to come on swift wings and take her like it had taken everything else. Ash and soot clung to her bloodied, matted fur. The smell of smoke and death was heavy on her tongue, in her nose. Whatever wounds she had were caked with blood and dirt and she could feel infection and fever seeping into her body with each hour that passed.

The Galra Empire had arisen. Her town was not the first town in opposition, though they might have been the last. The people Pidge had grown up with, the people who she had loved — they had stood up when the Emperor had begun killing innocent outsiders and turning a blind eye to the wicked magic his wife had grown fond of. She had watched her father and the other men in the town gather around her kitchen table, pouring over notes and maps and hastily thrown together battle plans.

She had sat in the hallway with her older brother, huge ears trembling as she listened as intently as she could. She had been there, constructing weapons and helping enhance ships when her father had finally given in to her insistent pleas to help their revolution. She had watched families lose sons, daughters, brothers, mothers, and fathers. She had watched bond-mates get ripped away from their beloved as the war raged and the Emperor’s wiles grew and his humanity dwindled and then evaporated.

And just hours ago, she had watches troops of the Galra horde kill families in cold blood and set the town alight in flame. She had watched her family get murdered, narrowly avoiding death herself. She had only survived because her older brother, Matthew, had pushed her into a cupboard and told her to be silent for once, Katie, and she had listened. Matthew had been dead at her feet when she’d pushed the door open.

Now it was only her in the ash and soot and blood that was left of what had been her home. Only her and countless piles of bone and fur that had once been her family and her friends.

Pidge didn’t know how long she sat there among the death and rubble. After her tears had run out and exhaustion had set in, she had sat down in the middle of what had once been the main road, staring into the horizon and wishing for death.

What came, however, was not death. Instead, a beat up ship with a worn looking Rebellion insignia painted on the side kicked up a dust storm in the near distance, disturbing the morbid silence. Four figures stepped out after the engines had cut, and Pidge watched with distant interest as they surveyed the area around them.

There wasn’t much left for them here. Just blood and dust and bones and… and Pidge. But she wasn’t much more, either. She closed her eyes, hoping maybe this was all a terrible, terrible dream and she would wake with Matt pulling her ears and laughing in her face, and her mother at the stove, and her father tinkering away in the yard.

When she did open her eyes, it wasn’t to Matt. It was to an unfamiliar voice, accompanied by grey eyes and fluffy ears poking out a tuft of white fur. She realized distantly that it was a male Galra, and that he was speaking to her. She blinked dust from hazy green eyes, reaching up to adjust the broken spectacles that she’d taken from her brother’s body.

“There’s nothing for you here.” She found herself speaking, her voice unrecognizable even to her own ears.

Those grey eyes she was looking into brighten a bit into something hopeful, and she has to close her eyes. There was no hope here, not anymore. Hope had died with the rest of her family.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” The Galra asked, his voice a soothing timbre.

An ugly smile twisted her face, her eyes opening to narrow slits. “Leave me to die with the rest of them.” She hissed, her ears pinned back. Her body was trembling.

“I think that would be a terrible way to die,” he said, his voice low and soothing and conversational, like they weren’t sitting in the prime example of the genocide the Emperor was capable of. She hated it. She wanted him to feel her pain. She wanted him to hurt, to feel the fire burning in her lungs and the stiff knots in her belly and the trembling exhaustion in her body.

“Besides,” the Galra continues, oblivious to her anguish. “I think your friends would want you to continue their fight, don’t you think?”

Something in Pidge wanted to snap back, wanted to spit poison at his feet, rake her claws against his face. But the exhaustion won out the grief and she sagged forward, pressing her fingers to her face and letting out an ugly sob, one that made some part of her want to lean into this man and beg for comfort.

“Come with me.” His voice gave way to something pleading, and she doesn’t stop him when he cups her elbows. “Let’s make them pay for their deaths.”

Pidge looked up at him, her vision blurry, and took a breath. “What’s your name?”

He smiled, standing up and guiding her with him. “My name is Shiro.”

*

Pidge was taken to some sort of rebellion base after the Galra — Shiro — had coaxed her to join him and his crew.

She had heard her father talk of this place, once or twice, when she had snuck out of her room after bedtime to listen to the meetings. Somehow, it was nothing and also everything she had imagined. For one thing, there were many more people than she dreamed. Along with that, there were no maps and strategies planned by the light of the lamp — instead there were entire meeting rooms and holoscreens dedicated to that.There were differences, though. Many of the people looked to be close to her age. They functioned less like a military and more like a city, including the apartments and different shops.

Pidge didn’t get to see much of it at first. She was whisked away to the medical bay almost immediately after they had set foot in the hangar. Everything was so bright and clean, and she realized just how filthy she was when they pushed her into a private shower and gave her some sort of thin hospital gown.

Getting her brother’s blood out of her fur was easily one of the hardest things Pidge had ever made herself do. In some odd way, it felt like betrayal.

After she’d been scrubbed and poked and prodded, she was given a room close to the med bay, where they could monitor her. The room itself was lonelier than the dying city had been.

When Pidge was finally left alone to her own thoughts and devices, one thought took precedence over every other, and it was unwanted in the worst sort of way.

I am alive and my family is not.

What a cruel fate — outliving your parents and your older brother. Afraid of what was to come, Pidge bowed her head and cried for every lost life she had left behind.

*

Shiro was persistent in the worst way possible.

Every day, he showed up to accompany Pidge places; to the cafeteria, to the library, to the med bay, to her own room. At first, she’d done her damndest to ignore him. It was humiliating enough to have been found in the state she had been, but it was even worse to have to look at him and remember that he was also the one who had taken her away from the death she had wanted to die.

Nonetheless, he was adamant on staying around her. It became difficult to ignore the person who held doors for you or introduced you to people or put you in social situations where not talking was considered rude instead of necessary. Pidge was pushed from cold silence to grudging conversation in a matter of days.

(She tried to convince herself it wasn’t because when he smiled as she picked up the conversation to take it somewhere, he looked a little like her brother when he had found a flaw in a textbook. Gleeful and excited.)

But it didn’t stop there! Oh, no. He’d gone and introduced her to his crew, too, which meant now they came around more often. Tiptoe though they might around her, because she was still ticking like a bomb waiting to go off. Pidge became unwilling acquaintances with three more people.

Keith was Shiro’s younger brother, a hotheaded young Galra who shot off at the mouth and had a temper that often got him in trouble and in dangerous situations. He was the opposite of Shiro in so many ways, right down to his constant frown, that Pidge wondered if they could really be siblings at all. She and Matt had often been mistaken for twins, despite their three year age difference.

His mate, and partner in crime, was an Altean named Lance. He was just as mouthy, although his snark was more sass and often more playful in nature. He and his mate, Keith, often bickered, but Pidge deduced that it was how they showed their affection.

Her favorite by far was the Balmeran named Hunk. He was brilliant, whip-smart and one of the kindest people she had ever met. Although it was hard to get close to him, because they ran on the same wavelength that she and her brother had — and that was just too painful for now.

Pidge often found herself hanging with variations of the group — but Shiro was the only constant, like her solid shadow, a calming force beside her. It was overwhelming to be near such an easy version of family.

She tried to tough it out and be with them. She did. But after the second time they were all together, it became too much.

The trigger was sudden and unbidden. Lance and Keith had paused in their bickering to gaze lovingly at each other, caught up in some silly argument over what they wanted to eat for dinner. Hunk was talking, or trying to talk, mechanics with Pidge, and Shiro was sitting at her side, watching like an approving parent.

It was all too much. Too familiar. She could hear the screams echoing in her ears, could taste the blood and ash on her tongue. Her brother had let her borrow his book on Altean mechanics the night before it all happened. That same book had crumbled away to dust at her feet when she’d stumbled to crouch at her mother’s side.

Pidge stood with an audible, wet sort of gasp. Everyone stopped, but not her mind. No, her mind was filled with death and decay and the sickening sort of guilt that came with being the only one out of hundreds to survive.

“Pidge?” Hunk asked, trailing off. Lance and Keith look away from one another and over to her.

It’s all so much.

The overwhelming urge to flee hits her, and she stumbles in the direction where her room was, where she could hide and scream and beat her fists on the wall until her claws broke and she could bleed. Just like all of them had.

She presses her hands to her ears. They’re all up on their feet before she can make them stop, make them stay, make them leave her alone. All of them are speaking, all of them are asking things of her — all of them, except for Shiro.

A hand comes up to rest on her shoulder, and it’s like all of the rest of the world goes quiet.

“Pidge,” Shiro said, and she can feel herself fracturing.

“I can’t.” She gasped.

She expects to be asked to explain herself. She expects there to be more words, but she can’t put words to the feeling of ash and blood and flame clogging her throat. She can’t make them understand the guilt that she wears like a second skin.

But then she’s being lifted up into strong arms. For a moment, she struggles, but then Shiro is nuzzling her ears and it’s so familiar that she relaxes with a wet sob into his chest. After that, the tears that have become plentiful in these few days return in full force.

Pidge is carried back to her room, but Shiro doesn’t put her down. Instead, he climbed his way into her bed, nestling her smaller body close to his and holding her the way a lover might. Her ugly sobbing turned to weeping, giving way to weak exhaustion.

“You will not feel this way forever.” His voice was close to her ear, making it flick back to brush against his cheek.

Good, she thought, because I am broken and if I break anymore I will turn to dust.

“You aren’t alone, Pidge. You will never be alone.”

“How aren’t I alone?” She argued, her gaze clouded with liquid anguish. “I have lost everything. Everything. I have no family, no home. I’d say I’m pretty alone.”

The male Galra was quiet for a time, rubbing his cheek against her ear. His silence was not malicious; simply thoughtful.

“I am here.” He offered after she had settled back into the horrible spiral of death and dead and dying and guilt.

“What?” Pidge was bewildered.

“I am here,” Shiro said again. She could feel his smile, soft and timid, against her head. “I will not leave you.”

“You cannot stop death, Shiro.” She said, resigned.

“No,” he agreed, pulling back a bit. His fingers caught just under her chin and she found herself looking up into the same grey eyes that had pulled her from her stupor the first time. “But I can promise to be here for as long as I can.”

Let me in, his gaze screamed, stealing the breath from her lungs. Let me show you how I will stay.

She didn’t want to. All of her instincts warned her to push him away, to turn him to the door and order him out. It was logic now. Get too close to people and it would kill you to watch them die. She had already died a hundred times over — one more would fracture her beyond repair.

But another part of her was drawn to his soft reassurance and his willingness to help her heal.

Put me back together, that part of her begged. Put me back together and ask me to be unbroken.

“You promise?” Her words are whispered, afraid to be loud in case someone heard and came to rip them away again.

Shiro’s smile is the soft sheets of her childhood bed. His eyes are the grey of the dusk in the summer in her village. His closeness is the balm to every ache that had seeped into her bones and weighed her down. “I promise.”

Pidge had never believed anything more in her life.

Writing Tip:

If you don’t feel like actually writing, prepare for writing:

Open your WIP Word doc

Read the last page again

Scribble notes on what happens next

Once you’ve done this, you might just find yourself wanting to continue after all. And if you don’t, no worries. You’ve made it easier to jump back into it later. 

Shiro makes Allura a new crown!

So many Shallura requests! :0 it’s like you guys know I need the practice.

***

It was really odd seeing Allura, the Princess herself, without a crown. She had been kind enough to, yet again, save his life and take the Altean crystal from her crown and embed it in the new arm the Garrison had tried to give him.

Each time he saw her without it, he felt a pang of guilt. She had already lost so much. He hadn’t meant to take more from her, even if she had done it out of the kindness of her heart. The simple gold band that rested on her brow looked so… Empty. Shiro had the odd need to fill that space.

Besides, they were on his home planet. There were stones he could find to replace the one she had given him, even if they didn’t have magical properties. That was going to be difficult, considering the complete destruction of most of the world - but he would manage.

After consulting Pidge and Lance - Lance for advice about style and gemstone, Pidge for her expertise to track things down - Shiro set off with what was left of the savings account he had left behind to meet with an underground gem trader.

It reminded him of a drug deal, the way they met up in an abandoned place. At least everyone knew who he was. If someone did put up a fight, he was able to capacitate them. Also that was just a dick move, to attack the guy who was paying a couple thousand dollars for a gemstone in the collapsing world.

The gem he bought was a moonstone, fit to the exact measurements of her crown. Sneaking it away had been a feat in itself, but Coran had helped after he had figured out what Shiro had wanted. Of course, not after a lecture about honesty and some reminiscing about a time where he and King Alfor had done something similar…

The man he had met for the gemstone was kind enough to set the stone into the crown. Shiro definitely thought it was well worth the money he spent to have it fixed up - and the guy was actually really nice.

***

“Shiro?” Allura looks up as he walks into the room, a frown pinching her brow. “There you are. Have you seen my tiara? I set it down a little while ago and I haven’t found it yet…”

“Oh,” the Paladin says sheepishly, his hands behind his back. “I, uh. Actually, I have something for you.”

“You do?” The Princess straightens, tucking a loose strand of hair that had slipped from her careful bun behind her ear.

Shiro shifts on his feet, mildly embarrassed and definitely nervous. He brings his hands out from behind his back, holding up the tiara guiltily. “So I stole your tiara because you gave me your stone and I wanted to make it up to you, and I know the stone isn’t magic but - it’s a moonstone! Not… from the moon, but I thought you’d appreciate it because it’s blue and…”

“Shiro.” She stops him mid-sentence, grinning brilliantly up at him. “That’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me in a very long time.” Allura reaches for the crown, placing it back where it belonged.

“How does it look?” She asks, and Shiro can feel his heart flutter in his chest.

“You look beautiful, Princess.” He says, and the blush he gets in response was well worth the trouble he had gone through to get her this simple pleasure.

***

Requests are still open!