Deerlysage - YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE

tag urself as a student type

coffee: always frantic, has a crammed schedule, never stops consuming caffeine, will agree to go to a party even if they have a six a.m. shift the next day

bujo: organized, likes to makes lists and keep track of things, plans outfit the night before, stresses when they get a grade less than a B

oops: stopped caring in the third grade, somehow manages to get okay grades, never studies, kind of lazy, would eat Waffle House at 3 in the morning

sweatshirt: is trying as hard as they possibly can, has to study and work hard for their grades, constantly stressing, has social anxiety, tries to do every extra curricular under the sun

aesthetique: probably vegetarian or vegan, has a “mom jean” 80′s aesthetic, glorifies local cafes, wants to live in Europe, always wants to cut their hair

gothique: black clothes only, still stans my chemical romance, uses sarcasm as a defense mechanism, desperately wants some tattoos, likes the black lipstick look but too shy to do it

I made a new blog!

So if you followed my old blog: @oh-no-not-another-fandom, I won't be using it anymore. I loved my old blog to pieces, but it's so disorganized and chaotic. And I want things to be more in order and such and easier for me to find, so I made a new blog, along with some other side blogs. But I'll only give those out if you really want them or decide to let you in on the details. Enjoy my shit-posting!

[ i hope no one has done this yet ]

Its Doug Dimmadad, owner of the Dadsdale Daddydome.

If I don’t say “I’m gay” at least once a day Elton John will come to my house and confiscate my Gay Card

good female anthro design: 

bad female anthro design: 

When stressed and angry, draw alice

you come into my house, you

treat me with respect (the way i treat you), and we both enjoy each other’s company and value each other’s friendship

“are you okay” no, next question

The Martyr

                                                       Chapter one                                                          Captured

       Lance awoke with a start, the first thing he noticed was the pain, he hurt everywhere. His body was littered with cuts and bruises and he could feel that the hair that was stuck to his head was matted with sticky dried blood. The blue paladin’s breath was coming out in short wheezy pants, and he realized the he probably had a broken rib.

        He didn’t want to move but he knew he needed to get a look at his surroundings and figure out what had happened. He made a move as if to sit up, and panic rose inside him when he realized that his hands were shackled tightly behind him. Brain kicking into high alert, Lance curled his knees upward and lifted his upper body off the floor, ignoring the sudden spike of pain, looking frantically around him. What he saw made his heart sink.

        He was in a cold, empty, metal room, lit dimly by purple lights, A low electrical hum filled the air and displayed on the wall was a familiar sharp, four pointed symbol. He all alone, chained helplessly on a galra ship, he had been captured.

——————-

        Looking down at himself, Lance tried to piece together the events before his capture. They had gotten word from the Blade of Marmora that a distress signal had been sent from a ship somewhere in the Javeeno Star System. Knowing it was so close to where the Balmera and Shay were located, Hunk had immediately jumped at the chance, insisting they answer the call.

        Shiro however, was much more skeptical, though he agreed, only on the condition that they all go as a team, a decision that turned out to be good one, as the signal had turned out to be a trap. Before they had even gotten close, they had been intercepted by Lotor and his fleet. The last thing he remembered was a frenzied battle, a sudden flash of pain, and then nothing.

       He shook his aching head of the memory and glanced around, trying to think of a way to escape. He quickly noticed that his paladin armor, helmet and weapon had been confiscated and that he was wearing nothing but his skin tight body suit, a realization that made him feel uncomfortable and exposed. For comfort, his mind turned slowly to his team, he knew they would do everything in their power to find and rescue him, and that he would eventually be reunited with them, but with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he realized that for the time being, he was on his own.

        Leaning his head against the cool metal wall to find some relief from his aching head, Lance couldn’t help but think, ‘Whats gonna happene to me?’ As if on cue, the metal door suddenly opened with a metallic hiss, revealing his captor. “Lotor!” Lance hissed out, fixing the young prince with an icy glare. “Ah,” the silver haired galaran replied, a malicious grin spread across his face, “I believe you meant to say, Prince Lotor.” Strolling into the room with an air of confidence, he approached the blue paladin, who shuffled backwards against the wall, growling angrily.

        “Oh come now, is that any way for a Paladin of Voltron to act?” Lotor admonished, in an almost playful tone of voice.

       “As if I need to be told off by some spoiled exiled Prince!” Lance spat back, lifting himself off the ground to stand up, straining to free his arms which were still shackled behind his back.

       Though his face remained impassive, Lotor felt a spike of anger at the blue paladin’s words and he stared at Lance for a few seconds, before snapping his fingers and whipping his head around to look through the open door. One of his generals, Lance believed she was called Zethrid, entered the room and, after a quick and quiet exchange between the two, Zethrid strode forward and grabbed Lance by his hair, earning her a strangled yelp, and began to drag the blue paladin out of the room.

       Lotor watched the exchange leaning against the wall, an unfathomable grin on his face. “Come Blue,” he chuckled, straightening up to follow them, “let us show you the VIP treatment,” and with those final words, he left the room, shutting the door behind him.