#slightly changed though

[spacelion-loveshermulletson]

Feng Xin: Mu Qing, will you marry me?

Mu Qing: [fighting off a herd of ghouls] W-what?!

Feng Xin: Marry me!

Mu Qing: I don't think now is the best time!

Feng Xin: [kicks away a zombie] Now may be the only time!

Feng Xin: I love you. I've made my choice.

Feng Xin: [grabs Mu Qing's hand] What's yours?

Mu Qing:

Mu Qing: Xie Lian! Marry us!

Xie Lian: Oh my Gods, yes!!

[incorrect-kidge-quotes]

Keith: *rushes in to bedroom after hearing a loud thud* What was that?

Pidge: I dropped our jacket.

Keith: That was pretty loud to be a jacket.

Pidge: I was in it.

[incorrect-kidge-quotes]

Keith: Hey Lance, what are you writing?

Lance: A fanfic of you and Pidge.

Keith: What? Why?

Lance: Two reasons, one: Neither one of you have asked the other out yet and my romance yearning heart needs something to focus on.

Keith: And the other?

Lance: Pidge is paying me, I'm getting paid for this.

Pidge: Lance! I asked you that in confidence! Say goodbye to your money!

Keith: *starts reading* Woah.

[neverending-city-lights]

A short story.

Her socks padded against the multi-colored (and to be honest—absolutely hideous) carpet of the hallway of her apartment building. The walls—entirely too familiar—seemed to be closing in around her, and the hallway (exactly 83 steps), was definitely stretching on much further than she anticipated. It had been two months since she’d seen him. Her steps slowed as she reached the corner, her tongue massaging her lower lip, before her teeth clenched against the same spot. She chewed harder, some part of her wanting to draw blood and wake her from this nightmare. Or dream. She couldn’t be sure. What she could be sure about was the pounding in her heart. It wasn’t full out racing—no—but it was steadily ramping up. Beating just a few heartbeats too fast, wobbling wildly in her chest, her ribcage constricting her lungs. Fifty-six days. It had been fifty-six days since their lips had last touched, in their sloppy, tear-stained goodbye. A goodbye that was supposed to be permanent. A final kiss—heavy with passion and lost love—to seal the end of everything they had once shared. That kiss no longer burned on her lips. So many other kisses (none quite as good) had touched her since. But that kiss had embodied everything about their relationship. The fire that had both brought of them to life and in the end left them in ashes. Their fire had been something she could never quite explain to others. Her friends scoffed at her insistence that they were perfect together. Gave her pitying looks every time she found herself back in his arms, their bodies entwined in their perfect way. But they didn’t understand (she wasn’t always sure she did either, to be honest), the love she had for him. The love he had for her. No matter what they went through, they always found each other at the end. That was their relationship. It was just a fact. But fifty-six days ago, she had ended that dynamic. Finally stepped away from what had tortured her. In these fifty-six days she had thought it was over. And some part of her believed it. She didn’t know relief as much as she had when she closed the door on him. One last kiss. Their lips crushed together, their tongue’s dancing in their own symphony. Their bodies curving together, his hardness pressed against her stomach, his hands tangled in her hair. A single moment of everything they had, before she pulled away. Extinguishing it. And then the relief—waves of it—as she closed the door on him after that final kiss. But now she was at the corner of her hallway, a single step away from everything she had left. The passion. But the new boy. Sweet. Innocent. He was beginning to steal her heart. Still, the truth sat somewhere deep in her gut. She was so desperate for love, but it didn’t change the fact she wasn’t sure she’d ever love the boy she was with. He was wonderful. But there was not a single ounce of the passion she had known her whole life. The violent, red outbursts of her father. The beautiful, joyous explosions of her mother. She had lived in that colorful world her whole life. And the boy she had left had offered this colorful world. But this new boy. He didn’t offer her that. He made her feel safe. And when she was with him, everything was just a little bit brighter. The sky a little bit more blue. The flowers a little more vibrant. She felt this steady sort of happiness. He lit up her world. But she knew—somewhere—that it wasn’t enough. But she had to make it be enough. Because she couldn’t go back to her ex. Not after the last thing he had done to her. She had to be stronger. And even if her world didn’t move, it was brighter. Yes. Maybe she should be satisfied with the safe, bright love she was experiencing. That should be enough. And it was with that thought that she turned the corner with a sort of fierce, violent determination. Throwing caution (and common sense) to the wind as she forced herself around the corner. Messy waves of hair that fell perfectly over perfectly tanned skin. Wide brown eyes, with heavy bags (would this kid ever learn to sleep?), and a trembling expression. Then their eyes met. … … … The whole world, for a single moment, moved. It spun wildly out of control, everything shifting in a violent circle. And then it stopped. Before she could even stop herself, the corner of her right lip betrayed her. It turned upward for a single moment, and she felt her hardened, blazing expression soften exponentially. And across the dirty glass of the window to the door, his own trembling expression lit up with joy. An uncontained, unrepentant joy. He didn’t even smile. It showed in the ways the lines around his eyes crinkled like the soft pages of a worn map. The way his wide eyes somehow got wider, allowing her an unfettered view of an indescribable brown she had fallen in love with. A sigh escaped her lips, her phone burning heavily in the soft velvet of her purple pajama pants. She didn’t even care who could see her in this instance. For these moments alone with him, there were only two people in the world. She opened the door, cold air causing her stubby toes to curl up, and goose bumps to erupt like mountains against her bare arms. “Hey…” she murmured, holding the door open just long enough for him to slip inside.   “Hey…” he responded, his voice gruff as if he’d just been in tears. Typical. “Do you just wanna stand here?” he asked, a faint shrug rippling the green of his jacket. She studied him for a moment, looking at how his hands were shoved far into his pockets, his shoulders faintly hunched as he attempted to mask how tall he was. Always trying to pretend he was a much more manageable 5’10 than his actual 6’2. “Sure,” she responded. “You look the same,” he said, awkwardly. She shrugged this time, her ponytail brushing her exposed back. “It’s only been two months.” “You used to look so different after that time.” “Only because we were still children,” she countered. “Our faces were still changing, so two months was a long time. All those subtle differences. We’re adults now. It will probably take a lot longer for subtle changes to happen.” He laughed. “I never would have thought of that. But it makes sense.” “Well, I try to make sense,” she said, another smile coming unbidden to her lips. Damnit. I’m supposed to be turning him down. “I still miss you,” he said. “Straight to the point.” “You sounded … unsure,” he said. “On the phone.” “Because I was. Am. I don’t know. I just—“ she paused, trying to gather her frantic thoughts. She stepped closer to him, the artificial light leeching the life from his skin and revealing the faint marks from bad acne in their teenage years. He was still beautiful. “I’m dating someone,” she mumbled awkwardly. “I know you are…that’s why this was stupid,” he said. “I shouldn’t have come…” “But you did,” she said. She took another step closer, her breath catching somewhere in her throat. “I did. But it doesn’t matter, does it? You’re with him.” “I am. I just—” she paused. “Your texts were everything I ever wanted to hear. Every word. Every memory. It’s unfair, really. You know me so well. And you know exactly what to say to make my heart skip a beat. To make me see the future I so … desperately wanted. God, I wanted that future so much. I would have given anything to see it come true.” “I know you would have,” he said, looking away in shame. “And I guess I have to live with the fact I fucked up.” “You did fuck up,” she said, almost vindictively. “You did fuck everything up. I—” She moved closer still, before suddenly their lips were crushed together. She thought she would feel guilt. Guilt for the boy she had just texted, telling him not to worry and that she’d choose him. She thought she’d feel stupid. Stupid for kissing the boy who had torn her life apart. She thought she’d feel nothing. Nothing because her heart was closed off to him. Closed off to his love. Instead, she felt bliss. Pure, utter, bliss. Instead, she felt powerful. Powerful control for a fate she was decidedly choosing. Instead, she felt everything. She thought she could be okay with a love that didn’t move the earth. She thought having everything light up around her would be enough. But she wasn’t that type of girl. She wasn’t satisfied with the light. No. She wanted the passion. She wanted the spinning. The violent, powerful rift that opened up every time they saw each other. She wanted an earth shattering love.