#and the overpriced coffees that i do miss are now recipes saved on my phone <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[saspitite]

oh of course, thank you for adding.

i was considering making a little post that can redirect to recipes from pro-israel fast food companies, i just don't always have the time. i might this weekend. if i do i may add it here

"why even boycott?! why cant we just enjoy things anymore???!!" actually i prefer giving up some of my comfort if it means i'm not helping fund the mass genocide of thousands of innocent people. and i don't think that's an insane take to have

[the-letter-y]

Stuck With You

A voltron au consisting of the domestic lives of the ever loved klance. Summary- In which a moody artist rooms with an overdramatic florist.

Chapter 1:Moving in

His new roommate was a week late. Lance had dismissed the idea of the pending deadline for the rent at that time, there was still three (or was that two?) weeks left anyways. He thought a few more days of having the place to himself didn’t seem that bad. Besides, Pidge and Hunk had constantly came over to his place to hang out, so lonelyness was never really a problem. Although, he had to blame them for the many sleepless nights they had for playing video games till dawn had risen.

It wasn’t until the landlord called about the rent that was due, not three weeks, but three days from then that Lance had started to panic. Lance was broke basically, he was struggling already with daily necessities, there are even times where he had to skip dinner just to save a few bucks for the onslaught of the next day. He currently has about three part-time jobs and a soon to be real job if the manager would just contact him already! So he basically would become homeless if his soon-to-be-roommate doesn’t show up and help pay the other half of the rent.

By the time the three day time limit was up, Lance was cursing every living fibre of his soon-to-be-roommate. In the end, Lance had barely managed to scrap up enough money to pay the rent, not to mention that his bank account was currently as empty as his grumbling stomach. To say that he wasn’t mad at his soon-to-be-roommate would be an understatement, he was absolutely furious!

The next day he had found himself at a nearby cafe with Pidge and Hunk, eating soggy fries and cold frenchtoast was the best meal he has had in a while. And while he gobbled his food, Hunk -that sweetheart- offered to pay for his meal, given that he teaches him his abuelita’s recipe for brownies.

“Dude, seriously. Did you even eat dinner last night?” Pidge questions as she raises a questioning eyebrow when he orders himself a stack of pancakes with extra syrup, she makes a face at the extra load of sweetness.

“To answer that question, you’re gonna have ta buy me coffee after this,” Lance tells her before stuffing his face with a chunk of syrup loaded pancake.

“I’ll take that as a no then,” she says with a shake to her head, her nose doing that scrunching thing it does when she disagrees with something. “Do Hunk and I have to make slide shows for you about nutrition? Again?” She waves her stirring spoon around, flicking little drops of coffee on to the table.

Lance grimaced at the thought, a haunting memory of very well detailed explanations of the digestive system with tabled functions and definitions pop into his mind. He doesn’t even know how his friends even conjured up the time to make these slide shows. And don’t even get him started on the extra care they put into the gastritis slide. They had like a whole page dedicated to the definition, images included, the factors and cons on one page and that wasn’t even the end of it! The symptoms page even had a video linked on to it!

His friends were the kind of people who took caring for someone to a whole new different level, they were beautiful that way.

“Please no slides,” he says sheepishly while scratching the back of his head, pancake half eaten and syrup still dripping. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be so broke right now if it weren’t for my roommate who is currently MIA,” his tone is flat when he mentions the mysterious roommate, still salty about the rent.

“Where is he anyway?” Hunk questions because unlike Pidge, he shows that he cares and not bite him with sarcasm.

“That’s the problem. I don’t know. I can’t even contact the dude!” He huffs out, exasperate.

Pidge’s glasses shone. “Do you think he got abducted by aliens?”

“Probably being dissected as we speak,” Lance supplies.

“Can we not talk about this when we’re eating?” Hunk chides, giving them a look of disappointment.

Lance and Pidge both continue theorizing about the possibilities of Lance’s missing roommate, Hunk chiming in every once in a while when the topic got too overboard. It was a normal Saturday for them, sunny breeze, cloudless skies and a whole day filled with potential. The thought of overpriced rents and mysterious roommates slowly disappearing from his mind as the conversation went on.

He’s staring at a pile of boxes stacked up at his front door, boxes with labels on them, varying from clothes to paints to books. Lance squeezes his way in through the doorway, narrowly avoiding toppling the stack of boxes. A questioning brow is raised when he lays his eyes on the back of someone looking through the contents of the boxes, headphones plugged in and blasting some pop song he can’t make out. Lance concludes that the dude doesn’t even know that he was even existing in the same room as him and casually strolls over to the guy’s side to tap him on the shoulder.

The guy is startled by the sudden tap on his shoulder and jumps a bit in surprise as he whips his head in Lance’s direction. Lance surpasses the urge to gape at the mysterious stranger that could very well be his new roommate, because damn the guy’s hot. Then he remembers that he’s broke and it’s all this guy’s fault.

“Hi, the name’s Lance. And you owe me an explanation as well as money,” because his mama taught him manners before anything else. Introductions first, she would say. You are a man of manners like I raised you to be, so pummel the guy afterwards, she tells him with a stern look as 7 year old him nodded obediently. Those were the good days.

His hot new roommate simply stares at him, giving him a long and tantalizing look before taking off his headphones. “What?”

Lance groans loudly and sauntered clumsily on to the couch, his face flat on one of the couch pillows. He peeks at his roommate, snorting when he finally notices the mullet. His roommate merely continues studying him, giving him a weird look as Lance lazily sits up.

“So, you gonna tell me your name anytime soon or should I just call ya mullet? By the way, in case you haven’t heard, the name’s Lance ” he says, legs crossed and hugging his favourite pillow. “Lance with an L.”

His roommate seems to consider this for awhile, a displeased frown marrying his features as he narrows his eyes threateningly at the grinning man covered in blue on the couch. He didn’t seem to like the new nickname. “Keith,” he says and returns to his unpacked boxes, the frown never leaving his features.

“Keith,” Lance says to test the name on his tongue before nodding and propping and arm behind the couch to watch Keith unpack.

He hears a large sigh coming from Keith and he raises a brow in question when he turns to glare at him.

“Can I help you?!” He bites out rather viciously.

Lance being Lance was unaffected by said glare and continues staring. “Need help with those?” He offers, gesturing to the many strewn boxes around their living room.

Keith only blinks and shakes his head in refusal. “I have a system,” he tells him and lifts up two boxes with ease. He then retreats to the unused room and reappears again without the boxes.

“System,” Lance repeats, slightly interested.

“Yes, system. A system in which you don’t touch my stuff and mind your own business!” He huffs out grumpily and hauls two more boxes into his room and returning to the living room while stomping.

“Someone’s being a grumpy pants,” Lance mutters with a pout and Keith turns to face him.

“I’ll show you grumpy if you don’t shut up,“ he tells him pointedly and as Lance was about to refute, his phone rang. His ring tone, Despacito, blaring loudly as Keith cringes and backs away like he’s offended.

“Uno momento, señor Keith,” he says and silences the phone by picking it up. “Hola? Allura? I got the job?” He’s practically beaming, smiling like an idiot as Keith watches him from a safe distance. “You won’t regret it. When do I start?” His face hurt from smiling so much.

Keith shakes his head, a silent smile of his own as he continues lunging boxes into his room. Lance finishes his phone call and is now all over the place, like literally. He’s bouncing around all laughs and smiles and Keith has to try his very hardest not to run into him with his heavy baggage. That is until Lance runs up to him and squashes him into a bear hug, making Keith choke on his spit, the boxes falling on to the floor with a loud thud.

“Lance, p-personal space! I need personal space!” He yells in a panic voice, his face heating up.

“You even said my name for the first time! I could cry Keith, I’m just so happy!” He exclaims and Keith has to keep himself from spontaneously combusting.

A/N: Yay, I’m done. Hoped ya’ll enjoyed it~