stunt_muppet (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stunt_muppet) wrote2019-10-27 09:46 pm
stunt_muppet) wrote2019-10-27 09:46 pm
Entry tags:
Sunday Six 10/27
I feel genuinely bad that I only ever manage to post these here, but in a way it's a good sign - it means that I am in fact managing to write in my off time, which in turn leaves less time for writing posts. That said, I'm going to try to put something together on Monday or possibly Tuesday when I have some work training thing that I'm probably going to zone out of lol.
Same fic as previous entries, because I'm sort of approaching a point where a Part 1 might be postable and I'm frankly pretty hype about it.
When Lance manages to knock on Allura’s door (after two false starts and retreats back to his room halfway there and calming mantras that he’s fine, it’ll be fine, this is going to go fine), she answers it already shapeshifted. At least, that’s what he assumes she’s done, since she’s leaned down to see better under the doorframe. She’s in a pink and white nightgown that he’s seen before, one that normally reaches the floor; the hem now rests just below her knees. He’s never seen her in anything that short before and it doesn’t help with the feeling he’s been fighting since he left his own bedroom, the feeling like every inch of him’s too heavy to move.
She claps her hands to her chest in delight and beams when she sees him. “Lance! Oh, I’m so glad you chose to come! Come in, come in!” she steps aside and motions for him to follow her.
He’s not sure what he expected of her bedroom - every time he’s thought about it he’s been too focused on thinking about her to contemplate her furniture in any detail - but it’s bigger than he expected, and sparser.
Same fic as previous entries, because I'm sort of approaching a point where a Part 1 might be postable and I'm frankly pretty hype about it.
When Lance manages to knock on Allura’s door (after two false starts and retreats back to his room halfway there and calming mantras that he’s fine, it’ll be fine, this is going to go fine), she answers it already shapeshifted. At least, that’s what he assumes she’s done, since she’s leaned down to see better under the doorframe. She’s in a pink and white nightgown that he’s seen before, one that normally reaches the floor; the hem now rests just below her knees. He’s never seen her in anything that short before and it doesn’t help with the feeling he’s been fighting since he left his own bedroom, the feeling like every inch of him’s too heavy to move.
She claps her hands to her chest in delight and beams when she sees him. “Lance! Oh, I’m so glad you chose to come! Come in, come in!” she steps aside and motions for him to follow her.
He’s not sure what he expected of her bedroom - every time he’s thought about it he’s been too focused on thinking about her to contemplate her furniture in any detail - but it’s bigger than he expected, and sparser.