IF YOU’RE FOLLOWING ME, THIS FOLLOW FOREVER IS FOR YOU!! (ꈍᴗꈍ)♥
Hello Pau here! For a long time I’ve had in mind doing this, but I’m not sure if this is going to work out or not u_u.
The thing is that I just reached 5k followers!! and that is so so great, never thought this blog would grow this much!!. So I was thinking that every time I make a follow forever, there’s always mentions to a few blogs, but I never get to thank to every single one of my followers for supporting this blog ♥. So instead of picking some blogs for this follow forever, I decided that If you’re simply following this blog, you’re included in this ff.
So PLEASE If you’re one of the 5K amazingly cute and pretty followers of this blog, REBLOG THIS because this is me trying to thank you for that ♥!!
And that’s pretty much it tbh. There’s so many amazing people on here that sometimes, only because we’re not mutuals don’t get the appreciation they deserve. So yeah, you’re all amazing, thanks for following this dumb ass blog, and If you ever wanna chat or something I’m always up to meet you all. ♥
At first, Maka doesn’t seem to hear you. “What?” she asks, tilting her head up to inspect you with green, green eyes that remind you exactly why you haven’t yet confessed your utter infatuation to her. Dark, stringy locks of wet hair frame her face, like seaweed wrapping around a drowned sailor, like a mermaid caught and captured and pulled from the water, but that makes no sense because you are the drowning sailor, the captured mermaid, the weapon who was stupid enough to fall for his meister.
“Nothing,” you lie, your brief muster of courage deserting you. “Forget it.”
She narrows her eyes at you, which should be warning enough, but somehow you still lose the next half-second of your life. Before you can blink, she’s swung you around like the weapon you are, and your back is slamming against the wall beside the bathroom door with a dull boom.
“Ow,” you try to say, but you’re out of breath, and your meister is yanking on the front of your pajama shirt with one small, strong hand, and her green, green eyes are staring up at you.
But they flicker, and you swear that they spend more time on your mouth than on your eyes, and really, a guy can only take so many accidental passes before he starts getting his hopes up. Your meister is Maka Albarn, you remind yourself— Maka Albarn, daughter of an unfaithful Death Scythe— Maka Albarn, who has all but sworn off romance with men— Maka Albarn, the subject of your unrequited and yet undying crush— Maka Albarn, who currently has you shoved up against the hallway of your shared apartment in only a towel and may or may not be staring at your mouth right now.
“Ow,” you say belatedly, stupidly. Uncool.
If she asked a question while you were struggling with your hopeless attraction, she isn’t repeating it, and now her free hand is sliding along your jaw, and her thumb is stroking your cheekbone, and her breath is hot as it puffs against your lips, and you are so in love with this girl who will never love you back. You know this, you’ve accepted it, but sometimes the harsh truth of it strikes like lightning and leaves you helpless.
“You’re not gonna kiss me, are you?” you ask weakly, thoughtlessly, and now she’s pulling away, her cheeks red, and you can’t help but panic for a second at how she won’t look at you.
You grab for her hand, your fingers tightening around hers in desperation, in some selfish, selfish desire to cling to this moment. She’s not yours, though— not yours to catch, not yours to keep. Let her go, Soul, you think, and you do, your fingers loosening just so. You are the one in Maka’s grasp, not the other way around, and that is how it should stay, because if you ever caught Maka the way she’s caught you, you’re not sure if you could ever let go.
She doesn’t pull away. Her green, green eyes have dropped to your mouth again, definitely for sure this time, and you blurt, “Because, I mean, I wouldn’t mind. If you kissed me. If you wanted to.”
Her shampoo tickles your nose, and you are drawn in, drowning, and she doesn’t pull away, even as you lean forward, just a little. The brush of her lips against yours electrifies you, though, and your heart fails under the shock, because you are absolutely convinced that you’re misreading something, because there is no possible way Maka Albarn would want any man, least of all you.
So you jerk back, and stuttered sorrys fall from your lips like they make their own language, and then Maka Albarn leans up and kisses you back.
Hiccup, irritatedly: You can’t derive your self-worth from the opinions of others. No! No, you get your self-worth from when… *looks at Jack* You convince yourself that you’re tough and that you’re straight.
wait so like... do you think lance is 18 or 17 since his birthday just happened?? i'm so confused
?? ????? I just take the date the book will get released - which is August 15th - and then see all ages as how they are written there. Lance & Hunk: 17. They already had their birthday this year so they turned just turned 17. Keith: 18. His birthday hasn’t happened yet so he will turn 19 this year. That just seems like the most logical thing to me, to take the information exactly as it is written there :’D
[THEN AGAIN - someone pointed out that they could have written the page before knowing what date the book would get released. And of course the timeline in Voltron doesn’t have to overlap with our own. So it could be December for them now and Keith has already had his birthday :0 In the end it’s up to each one to decide on their own, I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯]