he had a history

A story that may have relevance for others, or then again, maybe not:

When I was in college, about ten or so years ago, I was a history major. I wanted to learn to dance, so I joined a swing dance club on campus. To my surprise, this club had about twice as many men as women (in high school, the last time I’d tried dancing, the ratio had gone the other way–lots of girls, and boys only that you could drag by their ears).

But apparently, there had been some kind of word spread specifically to the STEM guys that dance was a way that they could meet girls.

So anyway. I joined the swing dance club, and met a few guys. And at one point, when socializing with the guys outside of dance class, one of them asked me what my research was on. (I had already established that I was an honors history student doing a thesis, just as he had established that he was an honors… I’m not sure if he was CS or Math, but it was one of those.)

So I gave him the thumbnail sketch of my research. Now, to be clear, an honors senior thesis, while nothing like what a graduate student would do, was still fairly in-depth. I had to translate primary sources from the original late-Classical Latin. (My professor said, basically, that while there were plenty of translations of my source material, that I’d only be able to comfortably trust them if I had at least made a stab at a translation of my own. And he was right.) And there was so much secondary material, often contradictory, that I had been carefully sorting through.

But I was able to sift it into a three-sentence summary of my senior thesis work, you know, as one does.

So I gave him that summary, and then asked–since he was also an undergraduate senior doing an honors thesis–what his research was on.

“Oh,” he said, “you wouldn’t understand it.”

Reader, I went home in a frothing rage. Because I had thought we were playing one game–a game of ‘let’s talk about what we’re passionate about!’– and he had been playing another game, which was, one-upsmanship. I had done my best to give a basically understandable brief of my research–and he had used that against me. As if my research, my painstaking translation, my digging through archives and ILLs of esoteric works, my reading of ten thousand articles in Speculum (yes, the pre-eminent medievalist journal in North America is called Speculum, I’m sorry, it’s hilarious/sad but also true), and then my effort to sum it up for him, was nothing. Because his research into some kind of algorithm or other was just too complex for my tiny brain to conceive of. Because I just couldn’t possibly understand his work.

Now, the important note here is that the person I went home to was my senior year roommate. She was a graduate student–normally undergrads and graduate students couldn’t be roommates, but we’d been friends for years, and the tenured faculty-in-residence used his powers for good and permitted us to be roommates that year. Anyway. My senior year roommate was basically… in retrospect I think possibly an avatar of Athena. She was six feet tall, blonde, attractive in a muscular athletic way, a rock climber and racquetball player, sweet but sharp, extremely socially awkward, exceptionally kind even when it cost her to be kind, and an incredibly brilliant computer science major who spent most of her time working on extremely complicated mathematical algorithms. (Yes, I was a little in love with her, why do you ask? But she was as straight as a length of rope, and is now happily married, and so am I, so it worked out.)

(Still, yes, she is my mental image of Athena, to this day.)

Anyway, I came home in a frothing rage to my roommate, the Athena avatar. And I said, “He made me feel like such an idiot, that I could sum up my research to him but his research was just too smart for stupid little me.”

And she shut her book, and smiled at me, with her dark eyes and her high cheekbones and her bright hair, and said, “If he can’t explain his research to you, then he’s not nearly as smart as he thinks he is.”

Now I hesitated, because I’d be in college long enough to have sort of bought into the ridiculous idea that if you couldn’t dazzle them with your brilliance, you should baffle them with your bullshit. But she said, “Look, I’ve been doing work on computer science algorithms that have significantly complicated mathematical underpinnings. What do I do?”

And I said, “Genetic algorithms–that is, self-optimizing algorithms–for prioritization, specifically for scheduling.”

“Right,” she said. “You couldn’t code them because you’re not a computer scientist or a mathematician. But you can understand what I do. If someone can’t explain it like that, it isn’t a problem with you as a person. It’s a problem with them. They either don’t understand it as well as they think they do–or they want to make you feel inferior. And neither is a positive thing.”

So. There.

If you are looking into something and have a question, and someone treats you like an idiot for not understanding right away… here is what I have to say: maybe it isn’t you who is the idiot.

How to Become His Dream Girl, Even if You’re Not (A Spoiled GF Guide)

so recently, within the past 2 months I have successfully become a spoiled gf, this (surprisingly) was a whole lot easier than I thought it would be, but using this technique (that I kind if made up) I broke it down into some simple steps :)

STEP ONE: Pick someone you wont mind spending a considerable amount of time with

- Realize that this isn’t a sugar daddy, this man wants to have a full on relationship with you, therefore you will be spending a large amount of time with him so you WILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH HIM. So just make sure that he is someone you can handle without wanting to strangle after 45 minutes.


STEP TWO: Charm the fuck out of him, then have him open up to you

- You have to make him want you, be alluring and kind. smile at him, laugh at his jokes, compliment him on shit that you might not even care about. Right now you are selling a prophecy, an introduction to a relationship. Make yourself sound as interesting as possible but leave him always wanting more, always have him talk about himself more than you talk about yourself. try to pick up on little things and get a read on his emotional status and how he chooses to react to certain situations, learn about him so you can mold yourself into his dream woman. Once he sees your “genuine” interest in him, he will start opening up to you and THIS is where you’ll really need to pay attention.


STEP THREE: Find out what intimate part of his life is missing

- THIS IS KEY LADIES AND GENTLEMAN!!! You will have to figure out what relationship related snippet is really missing. In my case my sugar boyfriend (ill call him T) was married for 10+ years and never really got what he wanted out of the marriage and was constantly lied to, but ended up staying on behalf of his 4 step kids. after getting divorced he dated a stripper who just used him for his money even though he supposedly had “genuine” feelings for her. After learning about his tragic love history I came to the conclusion that what he really needed out of a relationship was mutual affection and to feel valued. KEEP IN MIND, THIS STEP CAN TAKE A WHILE AND INCLUDES LOTS OF TRIAL AND ERROR. So after coming up with my hypothesis of the lack of value and affection, I decided to put it to the test and did 2 simple things in order to do so. first, while he was at work, I called him to see how his day was going. You would have thought I was god himself calling because he was so happy to hear from me and to hear that I was thinking about him and that I took the time out to call him and let him know that. Second, I cooked him dinner. One day while I was staying at his house I decided to surprise him with a very basic meal (frozen salmon fillets and sautéed bell peppers) and yet again, he was so happy and excited at the fact that I had done that for him. This is when I knew I was on the home stretch


STEP FOUR: Focus on the missing intimate piece, and make it your specialty

- This is what has him keep you around, doing the things that he needed but never got. don’t get me wrong, I’m not cooking this man dinner everyday, instead I switch it up and substitute certain actions. He loves affection, so when we’re sitting on the couch together ill lay my head on his lap, or hold his hand and stroke the side of his face. I’ve learned that simple shit like that makes him incredibly happy, which makes him incredibly generous.


STEP FIVE: Get Spoiled

- Now after giving him a taste of life with you in it, you need to give him a taste of how much your life costs. By now he’s showered you in nice dinners and gifts on the whim, but you’re here for the kill, you want a access to the finances and for him to get you whatever you want. For me, this was by far the easiest step out of all of them, I told him I wanted to go shopping and that I needed some stuff from Lush and Sephora (he had no idea what either of those places were) AND HERE IS WHERE YOU GET HIM. Make sure he sees how expensive it is just to be you, talk to him about your favorite products and what you need and use on the daily (hype them up in price too, like if you need foundation and you usually use L'Oréal, rave about the Gorgio Armani foundation instead) make it seem like your mere existence is expensive, by now this man wants to take care of you and wants to keep you in his life and therefore will do what it takes to keep you near and dear. Once he see’s how “hard” it is to be you, he will make it easier



At this point in my relationship with T, I am nearly moved into his house and have full usage of his ex-wife’s Lexus and his credit card, and tomorrow I get to meet his mother. Once you get on the right path of knowing what a man is missing in this life, you’ll be able to use that to your advantage and have him truly believe that you’re the woman of his dreams, even if you’re just a Faux Heaux :)

what was said of laurens after his death:

“in a word, he had not a fault that I ever could discover, unless intrepidity bordering upon rashness could come under that denomination; and to this he was excited by the purest motives.” - George Washington

“His career of virtue is at an end. How strangely are human affairs conducted that so many excellent qualities could not ensure a more happy fate? … I feel the loss of a friend I truly and most tenderly loved.” - Alexander Hamilton

even the british lamented laurens’ death

in short, he was greatly loved and widely precieved as a good guy

Mila and Yuri’s friendship appreciation post

Ok the fandom has all agreed that Mila is Yuri’s big sister, but can we just take a moment to appreciate just how DEEP the bond is? 

Ok. So first of all, we have Mila initiating physical contact with one of the coldest characters in YOI. She is extremely familiar with Yuri and from her relaxed air, we can assume that this definitely isn’t her first time hugging Yuri. It’s also interesting to note that Yuri only tells her to let go when Mila starts to tease Yuri. Yuri didn’t initially object to Mila’s hug!  

Here we have Yuri being a brat. But a very well-informed brat. Mila’s, cough, sexual frustrations would’ve been the result of a very recent breakup. The fact that Yuri knew about this shows us that he is up-to-date about what is happening in Mila’s life. Mila probably overshares the intimate details about her relationships to Yuri. 

ok this post is getting long, so please click below to continue frEAKING THE FUCK OUT WITH ME

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Why is Draco a sex symbol? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love me some sex on legs Draco Malfoy, but in the books he’s described to be all lanky and pointy. Like, gimme some awkward, nerdy Draco Malfoy with glasses (but only when he’s reading in bed at night or just before exams when he’s too stressed to care bc Malfoys do not need glasses, Potter). Gimme some Draco Malfoy who took violin lessons growing up and fell completely in love with it and had to put silencing charms around his bed so the other Slytherins couldn’t hear him playing (they all thought he had a girl in there with him and he let them believe that bc he had a reputation). Gimme Draco Malfoy who did not fall asleep in History of Magic, but instead did extracurricular educational work (that he most certainly did NOT steal from the Restricted Section, shut up Potter) because he already learned about the Goblin Wars from his private tutor when he was young. Gimme Draco Malfoy who really wanted to ask Potter out in 8th Year but Potter was so social and carefree all the time and Draco just wanted to curl up with “A History of German Potions and their Uses in Modern Mind Magic” with Potter curled up to him, and so Draco couldn’t ask him out because why would the Boy Who Lived want to curl up in the Common Room with a nerd like Draco Malfoy? Gimme Draco Malfoy the complete dork who researched the magic behind Dark Marks when he was scared and lonely at Malfoy Manor hosting the Dark Lord and, in 8th Year, was not able to remove his, but he found he could recreate similar magic so that when he touched it, the skull put on glasses. Gimme Draco Malfoy who finally built up the nerve to approach Potter, but got so nervous after saying, “Hello, Potter,” that he forgot everything he had rehearsed and ended up saying, “That cloud looks like a penis,” instead of a conversation starter like he planned. Gimme Draco Malfoy being completely shocked by what just came out of his mouth and shocked when Potter actually laughs a genuine (and beautiful) laugh and responds with a casual, “I could use yours to compare, if you wanted,” and Draco doesn’t think he’s blushed so hard in his life. Gimme Draco Malfoy going on a date with Harry wearing a button down and a sweater with sweater paws (shut up, Blaise, I look cute) and being so nervous he keeps pulling on his sweater and Harry just thinks he’s so adorable he can’t stop giving him little tiny kisses and Draco absolutely loves it. Just gimme nerdy, virgin Draco and I’m set for life honestly.

Put Down in Words by @paintedrecs

When Stiles signed up for Dr. Hale’s intro to history class, he had two goals: knock out the credits his advisor was bugging him to complete before he graduated, and spend a few hours a week daydreaming about his sexy professor’s salt and pepper beard.

Derek, a few months away from turning forty and not sure when his life had started feeling so damn lonely, had never encountered someone like Stiles before. Bright-eyed, sharp-tongued, determined to throw Derek’s carefully cultivated world into disarray…and absolutely the last person Derek should be falling in love with.

10

“I think when you’re playing someone who actually existed in history, there’s always a danger of an impersonation rather than an interpretation…” - Benedict Cumberbatch discussing his portrayal of Guy Burgess in The Turning Point directed by Fiona Laird for Sky Arts Theatre Live! Series 2009 from the documentary Writing The Turning Point by Michael Dobbs 

What’s wrong with me?– Jeff Atkins x Reader

Request: Can I request a Jeff imagine me where he’s been asking you out for a while now and you always turn him down? So one day you hear him talking to clay about how it’s actually starting to hurt him a bit cuz what’s wrong wit him? And his jock buddies give him shit and tease him about which upsets him so you shock all of them by going up and kissing him which leads to a hot makeout and ask him on a date.

Words: 2703

Enjoy it!

Reader’s point of view.

Your name: submit What is this?

I smiled looking at myself through the rearview mirror. I loved when my mom had the day off, that meant I could get the car to school, save me the monotonous and disgusting bus rides. It isn’t as if my mother went out to have fun, her days off from work, she is doing yoga in front of the TV, it wasn’t too much that the “coach” was too attractive. I shivered and concentrated on the road, until that point I was already entering the Liberty High parking lot. The disadvantage of bringing the car is that I mistrusted and was late, something that wouldn’t happen if I were traveling in the yellow device. Now finding a parking lot would be a challenge.

After a full turn, I finally find a decent place, not so far but not so close to the door, perfect. Before maneuvering to enter that space, a car closed the way and got into MY place. I stepped on the brakes and glared at the bold.  I knew the car perfectly. Instead of staying there, I found another place to two cars away, from that to stay grumbling. Yes, I was too lucky.

“Are you serious, Atkins?” I raised my voice after getting out of the car and hanging my backpack over my shoulder.

Jeff was walking toward me with a big smile and fiddling with the keys of his carriage. Asshole.

“This becomes a danger zone every morning, Y/L, you would know if you brought your car every day”

“Funny”

I started to walk with him to my side. We were in the same course, connected in our first year, we were good friends, maybe I could even consider him my best friend, it’s not like I had many in high school. Most were either useless sportsmen, or just people who weren’t worth it.  He was taking me with a few, especially since Jeff was very close to them, almost entering his social circle. They were not bad guys, but somewhat immature for my taste. Sometimes they made me laugh.

“So I heard that this new movie will be on Saturday … Let’s go together?”

Yeah, we were good friends though Jeff was determined to change that. My friend was attractive, too much to admit, but my mind was somewhere else to focus on a boyfriend. In addition, our friendly relationship worked perfectly, we sometimes studied together, I was going to see him at his baseball games, and I even stayed after school with him and Clay for his tutorials. I could come and go as often as i wanted and he did that too. We were perfectly fine, why did we need a label? What if “being dating” didn’t work? All those years of friendship would go away. Just to think about my last months in this institute without the company of my best friend, to be avoiding it by the corridors and to meet us in uncomfortable looks, left me the sensation to be without air. No, I wouldn’t let him lose it for a silly etiquette.

“How on a date?” I remembered that I hadn’t answered him.

I turned to look at him and he smiled in embarrassment. Jeff Atkins was never embarrassed. He was the most honest and funny guy on the whole site. If I didn’t know Clay Jensen, I would sign with blood that Jeff was the only one. Everyone else behaved more like idiots.

“Yes?” His answer sounded more like a question. Well, he left the decision to me again.

I sighed and settled the backpack as a reflex act.

“You did a good swing, Atkins, but I’m sorry to say you got a strike”

He raised his eyebrows and I smiled, wanting to erase the rejection I had given him. It hadn’t been the first, but sometimes I felt like the bad in this relationship. Our “dates” were reduced to exits between friends, and that was because I was in charge of enlisting Sheri with us and him, usually Clay. At one time, we invited Hannah, but lately she was walking in her own world, feeling the tension only to approach her. Too bad, it turned out to be a really fun girl.

I increased my pace. We didn’t have to stay together in the hall, our first period was different, while he was killing himself in history, I had to endure the headache of algebra. I also needed help but no one threatened to get me out of a team simply because I didn’t belong to any. That was how it was.

“Are you serious?” The good thing about my best friend is that he took rejections with grace. “You are very rude to me, Y/N!”

“I see you at rest!” I shouted at him in response and unconsciously stepped up. I never let him see guilt in me after an Olympic rejection.

At lunchtime, we took our usual table; Clay kept his eyes on his task that ignored our mini meal fight between Jeff and me. He made me eat one of his fries, but they were too greasy for my liking. Thanks to that, we didn’t go unnoticed, neither by his companions as for the rest of the school. Suddenly, I noticed how his teammates were passing by and said things to Jeff that I couldn’t grasp, used as keys that I didn’t understand. I looked at Jeff who looked down for a few seconds before turning to see me and smiling as if nothing.

“What was that?”

“It’s nothing.” He grabbed his backpack and stood up. “See you after school, Jensen?”

For the first time, Clay looked up and nodded. Jeff said goodbye to both of us and left in the opposite direction to his companions, I frowned even confused; it was incredible how my friend’s mood changed in a few seconds. I bit my lip and pushed aside my tray of food, strangely I was without appetite.

“What’s wrong with Jeff?” I asked. Clay knew him as well as I did.

The boy shrugged and looked in the direction where our friend had disappeared. I said goodbye to Clay, especially since I had just seen Hannah Baker enter the cafeteria. Jeff and I had a plan, before we graduated, we had to get these two to have something. They were too shy to approach the one and the other that we decided to intervene, rather I joined the cause, because it was a kind of deal between the two men. However, it was difficult, I was going to take care of Hannah, but she was very distant, I couldn’t approach. I sighed and left the cafeteria. I’d waste my time in the locker.

I doubted if it would be a good idea to interfere with the tutoring hours of my friends, I don’t know what was different now, if I always did, but my best friend’s behavior was too strange after the cafeteria. It made me panic to approach him. Among my doubts, I ended up in the school library, if I wandered around maybe in the end would encourage me to approach your table. I ended up on one of the closest shelves, Jeff and Clay seemed to be talking about something that didn’t look like tutorials since neither of them looked at their respective books. I went a little closer, covering my face with a book chosen at random. I pretended to read it.

“Jeff Atkins, asking me for advice on relationships?” I listened to Clay with humor. “The deal was supposed to be that you would help me with it, not the other way around.” I lowered the book a little to notice my best friend with his eyes on Pencil playing between his fingers. I went back to cover “I was paying my salary in the Cresmont that you would never go through this”

I bit my lip, afraid to know now what they were talking about, or rather … of whom. I repressed the book down again.

“I don’t know what else to do, dude.” Jeff’s voice broke my heart, but why? “She’s not like the other girls I’ve dated, it’s a challenge, but not that kind of challenge.” I started to consider whether it was a good idea to stay or not to listen, but my feet were stuck.

“Don’t stop trying” Clay encouraged.

“I don’t do it. I invite her to go out and it is always the same result: No. “I fear that someday she will get tired and send me to the devil”

My blood ran cold. They had not yet pronounced my name but knew perfectly well that they were talking about me. My hands began to tremble.

“I don’t think so. You two make a good team. It’s hard to see a Jeff without Y/N, or a Y/N without a Jeff” I glanced over and watched my friend smile. I did too. It was true; we could complement us in an incredible way.

I watched Jeff’s profile, again thinking away from his friendship, made me feel short of breath. I couldn’t imagine my life without having met him; he managed to understand me, my problems, my follies and occasionally my pessimism. The random memory hit me on a Saturday that taught me to hit, I could feel his body on my back and his arms around mine, even his hands on mine to help me hold the bat well. It had felt good, I didn’t have the imperative need to get away like when Bryce Walker tried to get too close to me. That guy gave me a very bad spine. Instead, with Jeff, I sometimes needed to have him close to feel that I breathe well, that everything is going its natural course. There was no Y/N Y/L without a Jeff Atkins, it couldn’t, and there was no consistency. It was like going against nature. My heart sped up and I hid my face again between the pages.

“Clay. What is wrong with me?” I had a gasp, only a few verbal rejects, at no time I distanced myself from him, after my negatives we were as normal as ever. Nothing had changed. I had the need to jump and give him a zap, Nothing was wrong with you, Atkins, you’re amazing, the best guy I’ve ever met! But I stood still with the lump in my throat.

“Nothing, dude. Let’s go back to your history essay, you need to distract your mind”

I listened as he agreed to the idea and I moved from shelf to the place where they didn’t see me. I put my hand to my chest and inhaled deep breaths. Why did i feel like crying? Maybe because Jeff didn’t notice the way I did, what could be wrong with him? He was a committed boy, especially now that his position in the team depended on his qualifications, attentive, pleasant, he isn’t of those who believed in rumors … and above all, he was an excellent friend of Clay and mine. How could there be anything wrong with that? Why cann’t you see yourself as I see you? I bit my lip.

“I saw you” Jessica came out of nowhere and gave me the shock of my life. She started laughing “Spying on people’s conversations? That’s too much for you”

I rolled my eyes.

"I guess I couldn’t help it,” I murmured.

“I heard them, too. I’ve never seen Jeff that way; he always has a smile on his face."I nodded to the cheerleader’s words. Suddenly, she started to laugh "Don’t you realize, Y/N?” I looked at her strangely “He’s in love with you! The whole institute knows this, obviously everyone, except you”

“We are good friends”

“So? That doesn’t take away the feelings, the question here is, Are you in love with him? ”

I was silent, I opened my mouth to answer her but I couldn’t, Why couldn’t I? I should deny it, but why didn’t i? Jessica Davis smiled.

“Do I confess something?” I waited quietly. “The way you look at Jeff, is the same way I look at Justin. Think about it. "She winked at me before leaving.

If my best friend’s words had left me frozen, Jessica’s words hit me. I looked over my shoulder toward the boys’ table, was I in love with my best friend? As I would know, I had never fallen in love with anyone in my life.

I ran as if my life depended on it to the baseball field, simply because my friend’s fool had forgotten his bat in the car and I as a good person i was, and because I knew the combination of his locker to get the keys, I did him the favor. Anyway, at home I was expecting some of those Mom’s smooth naturist, I wasn’t very excited to return soon. Before giving me sight in front of the team, I heard the boys howling and booing. I stopped and looked out, Jeff was in front of them, pretending to have difficulty raising the zipper of his sweatshirt. As I perceived quickly, they were making fun of him.

"Give it up at once, Atkins.” One of them said. I frowned. “You’re losing your good reputation for just one girl”

Not again, please. I pressed the bat in my hands.

“Let go and pass her, I assure you that I get an appointment with her long before you,” another of his classmates boasted. I was getting angry.

How could it be that they messed with him for some nonsense? I was nothing special, why did they all talk as if I were some sort of trophy? I looked at Jeff, he was still focused on his feigned task, but the gesture on his lips told me that he was having a bad time, so I got sick, it couldn’t be that my fear of losing him by spoiling everything with a label, So much harm to him. My eyes filled with tears, but I didn’t cry, instead, I smiled and walked resolutely towards them.

“Eh!” Shouted one of them with joy.

I didn’t look at any of them, my eyes were on my best friend’s, wanting to pretend he was more than okay. I didn’t stop until I felt my lips against his. I dropped the bat to our side and wrapped my fingers in his hair pulling him closer to me. His response, in the first place, was that his mouth was sealed by surprise, when he caught what was happening, he joined the same rhythm as me, bringing his hands to my waist. I didn’t part until the shouts of joy of his companions became present.

“Damn!” I recognized the voice of the one who at the beginning bet that I would go out with him.

I looked into Jeff’s eyes and smiled broadly. This kiss, which at first wanted to taste something, simply felt good. I began to feel that I was complete, even though I thought I had been before.

“I thought better, why wait until Saturday? Let’s have a date now.” My best friend’s eyes shone, I felt an extreme happiness inside, not for him, for me. “Oh, better, did you tell me that your parents are not going to be home all day? How about a bit of Netflix and chill? ”

His friends laughed, he too, but a little more shy.

“Come on.” He took my hand firmly.

“Boys” I gave a single glance at their companions, they began to cheer and push, like vile apes.

I laughed and looked back. When we lost sight of the team, Jeff stopped and looked at me even in shock.

“You were serious?”

“About the kiss or Netflix and chill?” I couldn’t stop smiling.

“Both of them”

“Now I know that I’m sure of the kiss” I bit my lip “Of the other, of course I was serious, a little more seriously in the chill part”

Jeff’s smile was the biggest i had ever seen. My heart skipped a beat.

“Then I drive. Later we’ll get back for your car”

Angel in the Darkness (M) pt.3

Originally posted by aestheticvbts

Summary: After a patient urgently pleads you to go and help a friend of his, you naively agree to it. Little did you know, that you would get more than what you agreed to, when he leads you to a brothel, to help a dangerous prostitute named Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (ft. Jin, but not romantically)

Genre: Smut (M), angst, mafia!au, prostitution!au

Word Count: 5,997

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4



I can’t believe I’m doing this again, you think to yourself. You close your eyes, and listen to the engine of the crowded bus, as you were currently on your way to pay mister ‘Kookie’ a visit. You start to slowly replay the scenes of Jin yelling at you, to desperately go back and meet the prostitute…

Keep reading

The first time he met you:)

Gif are not mine and if you wnat request pref too <3

Clay: He was awkward but cute. Met in History class.

Originally posted by daily13rw

Zach: He was amazed but had to maintain his reputation of Jock. Met in the Cafeteria.

Originally posted by veronicsalodge

Justin: The beautiful smile, his gesture for you to know he’s saw you. Met at his Basket ball game.

Originally posted by shipping-the-bromance

Jeff: The cutest Donut was flustered and shy but approached you. Met at  Jess’ Party [JEFF DESERVED BETTER SO HE DIDN’T DIE]

Originally posted by words-plus-wisdom

Alex: He was smooth, confident and witty. Also met at Jess’ Party.

Originally posted by elisebazinga

Tyler: He was just surprised as to why you were nice to him. Met at a basket ball game where he took a picture of you.

Originally posted by octaviahastings

Tony: He was sweet and caring. He saw you whilst driving out of school, stopped and asked if you wanted a lift.

Originally posted by softtroublemaker

2

He saw her, in the soft glow of the festival lights, and he realized she was undeniably, absolutely, and perfectly beautiful. 

Dinosaurs Make Aliens Uncomfortable

Ok. Imagine an alien discovering dinosaurs. Like “you had WHAT living on your planet ??” Giant ass lizards that’s what. “Oh shit.”

Barrik never imagined humans were so complicated. In order to become an officer for the Federation, he had to attend a specific class on human history and culture. This alone should have been a huge red flag (to use a familiar human idiom), but he didn’t realize it until it was too late.

He thought he knew about Terra and the intelligent life that lived there, but he was wrong. He left the class every day even more awestruck and intrigued than the day before. There were so many intricacies about them. Their social behaviors, their body language, their ability to communicate through many different languages and even with less intelligent beings. Their planet and it’s wildlife could be considered death itself, which made their resilience and creativity more understandable.

What Barrik had not counted on, however were the large, carnivorous, lizard-like creatures that the humans called dinosaurs. How could the humans survive with such formidable predators? Humans were scarier than he originally thought.

When he questioned one of the Terrans about these formidable creatures, he was relieved to discover that they were now extinct. This posed another question, however. One that haunted him for weeks because he was too afraid to ask. How did creatures so defenseless manage to wipe hundreds of species of deadly carnivores right off the face of the planet?

2

“(Y/N) are you alright, don’t vorry I’ll get Bruce in here to make sure you’re okay,” Pietro panicked, zooming up to you as you looked up from the book you were reading.

“And why would I be I injured?” You asked, clearly not amused by his antics.

“Because you just fell from Heaven of course,” Pietro smirked, looking like he had just delivered the smoothest line in history.  

“Actually I scraped my knee climbing out of hell,” You replied on instinct, ignoring him and going back to your book. Pietro, however, seemed determined to get your attention, so much so he plucked the book from your hands and sped off somewhere else. Getting more than pissed you tried to chase after him, finally reaching your whit’s ends you turned the gravity in the area off. Pietro floated in the air, holding your book.

“Drop it,” You growled as he struggled to move without the assistance of gravity.

“Alright Printsessa, but only for you,” He chuckled before dropping the book into your hands. You walked out of the room, and with a click of your fingers, Pietro fell to the floor with a thud. Pietro only smirked after you, he wasn’t giving up yet.

~*~

If only Pietro wasn’t so hot, and you weren’t so stubborn something would happen between you two. Wanda and Natasha were on short fuses with you both, and Tony just wanted the pair of you to stop being idiots.

You walked down the towers hallway, nose in your book once again. Before you knew it, you were tackled to the ground, and of course, Pietro was above you.

“Sorry Solnishko, I didn’t see you there,” Pietro chuckled as he eyes your face. A raging blush spread across your face from the position you were both in before you pushed him off and stood up.

“You definitely did that on purpose,” You huffed before walking off once again.

~*~

“I swear to god if something doesn’t happen between the two of them I’m going to make something happen,” Natasha hissed as she watched Pietro try to flirt with you once again.

“Don’t vorry, it vill happen soon, I assure you,” Wanda responded casually.

“Your lips look so lonely; would they like to meet mine?” Pietro asked, leaning closer to you. You placed your hands on his lips, pushing his head back.

“No thanks,” You replied dramatically trying to ignore him still. Pietro huffed in annoyance before looking at you with a frown on his face.

“Oh come on katyonak, vhy von’t you play along for once. I know you like me I’m not zhat stupid,” Pietro huffed, smiling upon seeing the surprise on your face.

“Fine then. Are you a magician? Cause every time I see you everyone else disappears,” You replied. Pietro seemed taken aback for a second before a grin spread on his face.

“Are you happy now!? I hate you so much,” You groaned before getting up from where you were sitting and going off to your room. Pietro only continued to grin, maybe he did have a chance with you.

anonymous asked:

Steve fic based around this button? i(.)ebayimg(.)com/images/g/MDkAAOSwt0FZCocL/s-l500(.)jpg

Steve didn’t think something as small and inconsequential would have lasted. But there it was in a box of effects that Becca had given him (there was a shirt and a scrap of paper Steve had drawn the skyline on for Bucky and some letters with Bucky’s deliberate, heavy handwriting).  

I gave my share inside a faded red heart and the year – 1928.

**

He’d been ten, at the time, breathing reedy and limbs thin.  He was picking himself up from a scrap, (Bucky would be back for Steve once he’d properly run the other boys off), when he saw it, shiny and entirely not trash behind the barrel.

Fifty cents.  A whole fifty cents and Steve couldn’t believe it.  He and Bucky could split something at the diner, maybe.  

He thought of what his Ma had said about fortune and some people not having any, had thought of the fight he was in – the little girl was gone but her shoes still had holes in them bigger than Steve’s.  

When Bucky returned, Steve had pocketed the quarters and was dusting himself off.   

“Your Ma is gonna kill me.  Lookit you.”  

“We gotta make a stop on the way, Buck.”  

Bucky glared and Steve returned it, neither having the energy for anything more.  

Bucky sighed.  “Fine.”

Steve marched them straight to the Red Cross and donated the fifty cents he’d found, and the woman at the desk – kind-faced and eyes full of something Steve couldn’t describe – gave him a pin.  I gave my share, it said.  

He pinned it on his shirt and his Ma – when he stepped through the door at home she didn’t mention his bruises or the bleeding, but she saw his pin and smiled so wide, Steve thought her cheeks might ache.  

**

Steve left the pin in the box, needing to find a place that would be safe but visible for him to keep it.  It made him think of his Ma and Bucky and Erskine; on those days he questioned himself and his purpose, it helped him to think of his ten-year-old self, reassure himself that boy, that boy who wanted to give, was still in there.  

Skies of Water; Ocean of Air

Here’s a little (long) fanfic/wingfic I wrote. Today… I have way too much time on my hands honestly. I swear to god. Either way! Enjoy the minor Shklance! Enjoy the Langst! And mostly! Please enjoy my shitty writing abilities!

Lance knew from a young age that he was different. Even with no one to guide him or explain it to him he knew. Maybe it was extinct. Maybe it was in the way people skirted around him. Or in the way he saw things as a child. He had always been a little different in a way. And not just the physical signs, but in himself as a person as well. The way he saw the world was a lot bigger than how his siblings saw it. He saw more than just the skies and a land to look down upon. He saw the oceans they couldn’t swim in, full of gorgeous fish and beautiful vibrant colors no paint could ever match, the mountains they didn’t bother to climb, seeing the view from a bright side, with the rust colored dust of the earth staining his clawed hands, saw the skitter of wildlife in a forest too thick with trees to move around in, the sight they ignored because they couldn’t grasp a place where the sky was not seen and the wind was silent for the sounds of nature singing. Lance saw the world with a different view.

Not everyone liked that view.

The way their words would sting him, lash out at him like a poisoned whip reminded him of that without them having to out rightly state it. Leaving marks much farther than skin deep on his young mind. Their backs, always turned away from him, shunning him away from where he wanted to be in their family. The way their wings would always taunt him. Show him the life he couldn’t have. The beauty he’d never have. The love he’d never feel. Not even the woman who breathed life into him could love the way he saw the world. The only love he could feel was in the hidden alcoves of the ocean. Small shelters carved through the years by the sea itself.

In a way, Lance connected with the ocean. The ocean was so old, wise, and strong, different from the free, young sky. So liberal and wild in youth. Innocent in its fast winds. Lance was young, weak, but no long naive nor innocent like the sky. He was jaded like the ocean in his eyes and on the horizon. Balancing between two worlds. One which was his own by blood, and another which was his own by outcast and adopted love. The sky rejected him. But the ocean called to him. Blue waves with cutting forces were terrifying, like their voices, like their fists raised in disgusted fury. But the teal lapping waters were also a calm reassurance, isolated. And when Lance’s head would submerge. He would not be afraid. He didn’t have to be afraid of the water over his head. There were no feathers to get wet and weigh him down like dead weights He could open his eyes, and see the fish flying through the new world. The land was just an ocean of air after all. If Lance didn’t have wings to fly, then he could have a sky of water to swim.

The ocean was calling his name. A name they never gave him. A name that was his own.

Lance…

Not a single person could take that away from him.

That made him strong. Many thought wingless would always be weak, they couldn’t fight, couldn’t gain strength with wings they were not gifted with. Couldn’t compete. Couldn’t survive in the world without feathers and blood on their back. But the ocean made him strong. The currents would spar against him, like head strong winds for his arms and legs. Flying underwater. The rocks in the ocean would test him. Sharping the claws of his hands. Teaching him to climb higher and reach for the sky in ways that those he knew would not think of. Would look at with disgust.

Just because he didn’t have wings didn’t mean he didn’t know the world. Lance probably knew more of it than anyone with wings. He felt the sting of wind in his face, the heights of a large mountain he’d conquered through reaching claws and hard effort. But he’d also felt the sting of ocean water on his face. Warm lapping salt water, reaching for him. Like it was calling him to come home to it. Once and for all.

The sky was their home. The shores and the ocean was his home.

Now, however, he was far away from his home.

He wanted to go home.

Lance sighed, looking at the soft pliant skin on his hands from the rafters of the castle. The way their shifted from soft skin, to hard claws without Lance even blinking. It had hurt the first time. But, now it was instinct. All good things had to hurt, right? Bad things hurt too he guessed however.

Long cold nights away from a happy nest. Watching them fly together with bright smiles, as if they were urging him to join them in the happy games. But he could not join them. He never told them. And they never asked anything different. It was assumed.

Lance was assumed to have wings like them.

Assumed to just be shy with his wings.

Assumed to be a loner.

Rather than asked.

It was alright thought, they weren’t far off from assuming that he preferred to be alone. Honestly, he did prefer the quiet nights. But these weren’t quiet nights. Nights in a place with no pool, no water, no sand. These were just lonely nights. Nights away from the one place he could forever call home.

He missed the rock walls, rough against his skin. The way it would vibrate on stormy nights when his family would and lock him out of the house. Protect him from the rampaging clouds and crashing thunder. The way the water would splash up against his ankles. Cold in the storms, but cold in the best ways. The sea foam tickling his tan skin. He missed the slight burn and tingle of salt water on his skin. The way the water would look when the storm would break, the silver moon light and peace the cold waves would bring to him. The ocean was old, yet full of vigor. It could’ve kill Lance without thought when he was smaller, yet it didn’t. The moons pull on the waves of the ocean, sparing his wide eyes full of wonder, and showing him a new world, a home. Letting Lance see the way the sun would rise over the ocean. Glimmering red, yellow, and orange on the waves of a warming blue sea. Glittering and beautiful in a way that no one ever stopped to appreciate. The sea let Lance appreciate its beauty, let him watch night after day and after another night. Let him live to breathe the salt in the sky of dark blue tides. The smell of salt on the breeze. No one liked the ocean. Like no one liked the real Lance.

He missed the ocean.

He still heard it’s call.

Beckoning him home.

A presence to his side jolted Lance out of his thoughts, turning his long and sharp salt stained claws back into smooth flawless skin and fingers as Lance twisted his body. Greeting the new person with a wide smile. The leader of their impromptu flock, Shiro.

Honestly speaking Shiro really was a sight to behold, and even with the hopelessness that accompanied seeing such majestic wings, Lance’s smile was real. Because with Lance’s view of the world. Even in pain and in hiding. He still saw the big world and everything in it as beautiful. Including Shiro with his broad body and even sturdier wings. Darker than the night sky with flecks of white. No midnight blues however. The ocean wasn’t in anyone’s wings. Just his own eyes. Shiro’s eyes were battle hardened, but still kind. And his smile was gentle. Like the nudging of the schools of fish that would nibble at his skin, brush their scales against his fingertips as they dared to get closer to the familiar being. Shiro smiled just like that this time.

“Hey Lance, we missed you preening yesterday, and flying today. Are you feeling alright?” Lance smiled. Assumptions. As-sump-tions. Such a simple word. With so much meaning. So much ability to alter and change a person’s view. Lance never assumed anything. Then again, he also assumed everything. He had a different view of the word.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just relaxing.” Shiro’s wings fluttered, an obvious show of unsettlement or awkwardness. As if Shiro was trying to build up courage to ask the withdrawn flock member something. Lance watched. Even without wings Lance could read the emotions displayed on others. He had to learn how to read people to avoid their worse moods normally. Wings were how people told emotions from other people, being the most obvious sign of body language. Lance could read moods well. Seeing his sister shift from calm, to annoy at just the mere sound of his breath. His father turn from pride to rage at a single speck of his existence. Being the outlet of anger was normal for him. Taught him many things in life, but sometimes even Lance knew that he had to escape and wait. Sometimes Lance would disappear to the ocean for weeks at a time. Only coming home so that he wouldn’t be deemed a ‘flight risk’. Heh. A flightless flight risk. Wasn’t there a joke in that somewhere?

           Maybe that’s why people were so wary and awkward with him before they knew. Most people kept their wings out to show emotion. Most people couldn’t tell emotion without seeing someone’s wings. Lance was probably a husk to them. Emotionless. Like the porcelain mask of a doll. Not showing off your wings meant discomfort, distrust in your surroundings. Lance was probably just one giant enigma to them. A hard shell that didn’t look one second closer to opening up then when they had begun to form a flock in space so long ago.

           At least Lance could make them assume he had wings. Using his claws and climbing skills to reach high places. Climbing wasn’t a well-known or practiced skill after all. Lance hadn’t even known it had a name until he found an old history book from before humans had formed wings. When Lance could’ve been considered normal. So even if they didn’t see his wings, they’d see him lazily resting in the rafters and assume he’d gone up there to stare at the stars and enjoy the silence as he often did. The clearing of Shiro’s thought gathered Lance’s wondering thoughts again. Making Lance look at him with those wide eyes that had Shiro lost.

           To Shiro they were like the deepest galaxy imaginable. Dark blues and light blues, white and black. Swirling. With ferocity and gentleness. Like the ocean Lance always described. Lance’s eyes were like both their homes. Shiro’s home in Lance was the night sky. Lance’s, the reflection of the only home he ever loved.

           “Lance, why don’t you come fly with me? We could go to my nest if you’d like? You probably could use a good preening, I could help if you’d like? Straighten out your feathers while we watch some old movies?” Lance gave Shiro another ambiguous smile. Confusing Shiro greatly as Lance declined gently.

           It was difficult. Leading a flock. But what was harder was knowing that one of the people in his flock that he cared about so much was still distrusting of him. Still hiding the wings Shiro knew would be gorgeous. Still hiding the thing that would tell Shiro exactly what those distant eyes and smiles that tugged at his chest meant.

           Shiro would often find himself wondering what Lance’s wings could be like. Would they be brown like Hunk’s? Dark and powerful? Or would they be so black they were almost blue? Like the starry sky that Shiro saw in his eyes with every passing glance. Were they built for power or speed? Or were they built for neither? Were they an ivory color to give a beautiful contrast to his caramel colored skin? How would they react? Would they express the emotions that Lance never spoke? Childishly expressive. Or were they like Lance’s body, slim, lean, and closed off. Revealing nothing more than what he was willingly to show.

           Shiro didn’t know. And it was killing him slowly.

           Shiro didn’t know how Lance felt and it hurt him. Him and Keith. Him and the flock.

           Lance would always smile, ruffle Pidge’s hair. Give Hunk big hugs and large grins to reassure him. But he’d never show them his wings. His most telling part of himself. Nor would he touch theirs. He would glance at them. Shiro and everyone else could see the glances, the lingering gazes on their wings. They knew that Lance was gifted with people, and very wary of them. He could read their every mood like a book. But no one could tell what was in his eyes. Not even the Alteans could. Not even Coran, who was very obvious in his favoritism towards the blue paladin, could tell what was hidden in those royal blues eyes.

           Hunk had never even noticed until they had pointed it out to him. Shiro asking what Lance’s wings were like. Hunk had been his roommate after all. Sharing a living space for so long and being such close friends. But Hunk hadn’t known a thing. Hunk said that the Garrison hadn’t been very active with their flight training besides piloting, as many were obsessed with flying in their free time. Hunk had just assumed Lance was just one of those people who liked to relax without his wings out. There were few people who didn’t like to stretch out their wings at every chance. Feeling shy of how their wings reacted or moved. And just kept them to themselves. And Shiro accepted that excuse for a while.

           But then the months had dragged on. Bonding sessions. And mind melding. The link between paladins were everything was supposed to be visible, the moment Shiro tried to pry into the Blue paladin’s mind, it changed from pure clarity, to a haze. Only now and again he’d see flashes of the water and sand. Wet skin. And it always scared and fascinated him when he saw the rare sight of the water below its surface. Bright almost teal colors water, beige sand like silk on ‘his’ feet. The schools of fish swimming in front of him. Around him. Sometimes tickling his skin. It scared him because as beautiful as the ocean and water was. It was so quick to kill those of the sky. Leaving that place in Lance’s mind always made him wander if want he was seeing was a memory or a fantasy. Whether the fantasy was the beauty of an ocean he couldn’t touch living apparently on a beach in Cuba with his family. Or if it was a fantasy of wanting to drown in those beautiful waves. The linger taste of salt and the feeling of being washed away onto the shore of reality after these mind drifts left the bad taste of doubt in his mouth. It scared the others too when Shiro convinced them to visit the strange world. The scariest of all their reactions being Allura’s, who was tuned to the emotions of mind melding and said with certainty, that what Lance felt in those moments was a longing. A call for home in the water.

           It terrified Shiro.

           But also confused him when he considered the other’s minds. The clarity of the skies in their minds. From city skylines and buildings, to the red of the desert sunsets, and the night sky of his own mind. Smiling faces of family. And Lance’s was a foggy foundation of cold grasping tides at his ankles. Seemingly lying in wait to grab and snuff out the gorgeous light that Shiro called Lance.

           Shiro just wanted to know Lance. Get to know his moods, the way his eyes would glide over everyone. As if gauging damage, how to help them, how to smile at them and make them feel better. How to fix the castle. How to make Hunk’s anxiety lessen or how to drag Pidge away from her computer gremlin ways. The way Lance almost glided through the air, on his feet not his wings. Shiro could only imagine how graceful Lance would be in his own sky. The sky that they could never find inside his mind.

           There was only one time, when Shiro had felt like they had maybe taken a step closer to Lance as a team. Pulled the Hispanic teenager a little closer to their hearts and to their home. It was when Allura had insisted they learned a thing called climbing. A way to scale into the air, without wings. Allura had said it was for an emergency if their wings were injured, but Shiro had always wondered if it was a way of training that they could finally include Lance in.

           Though, for Lance it was barely training as it was total slaughter. It turned out that Lance was extremely good at climbing. Almost vibrating in visible excitement at the task as soon as Allura described it to everyone’s surprise. Finding nicks and crannies to dig his fingers into to lift him higher. While Keith had climbed the valiant height of ten feet, the highest of all the first four paladins so far. Lance had taken one glance at the wall. And scaled it in mere seconds. A flash of brown hair and then he was there. Sitting at the top. Head tilted up and his body straight, looking completely at peace, unobtainable. A boy in the rafters. A boy too high to reach. Too far away to even touch.

           It was then that Shiro had learned about Lance, and both him and his mate Keith’s budding interest in the mysterious goofy brunette. As Lance sat there at the top. Beating Shiro and Keith in every race they challenged him to on the rock wall. The other flock members giving up after a while of reaching for the inaccessible boy’s hand. Failing to grab the lifeline that tried to grab onto them and teach them by even the full length of their wingspan. Not a feather could touch.

           Lance had been sitting there at the edge. His legs dangling down, the ships lights were soft in the evening glow. Reflecting off Lance’s skin and giving him an almost shuddering and unearthly radiance. Shiro saw the boy in a new light, not the distrustful boy that was closed off. But the strong boy beneath it all. With broad shoulders and strong arms that pulled him closer toward whatever height he reached for. The curve and curl of his muscles and spine. Flexible. Durable. Stunning. It was then that Lance had spoken to them for the first time about himself. Not a joke. Not playful flirting.

           The faraway look in his eyes seemed softer, closer, almost vulnerable, it was the closest Shiro had felt to connecting with Lance’s emotions and knowing them without the crutch of wings. Lance’s full and pink lips recounting times of when he’d apparently climbed the rock structures around the beach of his home. Climbing them for fun and for a peaceful moment. Even Keith, the worst at reading people could hear the longing in Lance’s voice as he talked about the view. Seeing the sky and the ocean almost blending together on the horizon. With the wind in his hair and dust on his hands. He said the view was almost better when you had to work to get it. Keith, who’d be reluctant about the idea of climbing and weirded out by it, suddenly got exactly why Lance seemed to love it.

           Insecurities. Lance was the one with a home back on earth. Lance was the one that was in between, not new enough to shooting and training to make large progress, and not good enough to be seen at the highest levels like Shiro and Keith. He was the blurry and unrecognizable middle.

           Hazy.

           Like fog rolling over the ocean in the early morning when the sky was warming and the water was still cold.

           Climbing was something Lance was secure in. Familiar with. It was something that Lance could connect to his home with. Watching Lance close his eyes, almost looking like he was relishing the texture of rough and cool rock beneath his hands. Lance had admitted the other thing missing was the dust and taste of salt in the air.

           Salt.

           Like the taste of his deadly fantasy.

           Lance watched as Shiro pulled away slowly and reluctantly from his own thoughts. Spreading those raven black wings and flying away from the tan boy. The boy with the stars in his eyes and Shiro’s heart in his mercy. They had to get going to the planet’s surface soon, and Shiro knew that Lance wasn’t going to fly down to go to the team in view of his eyes. So he glided away, only glancing back once he was on the ground at the end of the hall. Seeing Lance still sitting there. A far away look and one leg dangling teasingly from the edge. So close. Yet so far.

           Unattainable.

           After a half an hour of rounding up rowdy flock members Shiro was able to explain the details of the planet and the mission they had to carry out. Shiro was both excited for the mission and anxious. It was actually a secret vacation day for the flock, to fly and relax on a planet was oxygen. But, there was one thing.

           It was an ocean planet.

           Beaches as far as they eye could see.

           With rowdy kids that couldn’t swim, and one that seemed to dream of going under the waves.

           Yeah, Shiro was a nervous wreck to say the least. But after seeing Lance’s excitement at hearing the words beach and sand. Shiro relaxed. Watching closely as Lance used wild hand gestures to describe how many things they could do on the beach. He even promised to show Pidge how to skip a rock past two skips. Demonstrating flicking wrist motions with vigor and a large grin on his face. And after about three hours on the beach, Shiro was fully confident and relaxed that everything would be fine.

           Except, that was exactly when shit hit the fan.

           Lance was sitting high up on one of the rocky cliffs, admiring the view and keeping an eye on Pidge and Hunk, who were both splashing and carefully flying over the ebb and flows of the planet’s deep blue marine. Of course, that mean he was the first one to see and react to Pidge losing control and falling into the water. Unable to fly away in time to stop herself from being grabbed and dragged under.

           It was like he was on autopilot and Hunk screamed Pidge’s name and Lance dove into the water. Ignoring Hunk’s scream of protest. The fear of losing two teammates, two best friends at once. But Lance wasn’t going to listen this time. Not when he could help Pidge. The girl he’d come to see as a little sister. A younger sibling.

           Someone he had to protect.

           The water was different here, but in many ways. It was exactly the same. The push and pull of the tide. Tugging his body in every which way. Yet still guiding him. Towards the sinking girl just barely in his reach. Her eyes were closed and she was limb, but Lance wasn’t afraid yet. The waves were helping him, giving him that final pull down to grab her, before the push came, dragging Lance and his friend towards the shore and the surface. Lance mourned the sight. He wanted to relish in the sight, the sounds, the feeling of being weightless. But this ocean was not his home. This ocean was trying to push him away, telling him this wasn’t home. But an outreach of it.

           Voices. The voice calling him home was never so urgent and loud in his mind than in that moment. But it wasn’t calling him into the depths. It was calling him out of these depths. Urging him to go towards the ocean of air. To give his friend the oxygen she needed. Life Lance craved for her to keep. Lance’s muscles didn’t strain in the water. Even with the added weight of his sodden friend. He broke the surface easily. Relieved as he shoved Pidge’s head above the water and heard her gasp and cough. It was wet sounding and sent shivers down his spine when he heard how close he’d been to failing her. But it was also a freeing sound. A sound that she was alive, as he held her close with one arm and used the other claw his way up the shore where the flock was gathered. Wing fluttering worriedly with various degrees of fear and relief on their faces. Lance’s claws elongated to dig into the solid earth beneath the loose sand to hoist Pidge up and shove her onto the dry said into their waiting arms as Lance’s head dropped. His arms spread in front of him in almost a push up position as he greedily gulped in air to replenish the energy he lost in carrying Pidge to shore. He didn’t notice them staring at the long black marble looking claws until it was too late. He was already in a sunk ship as they stared. Watching in horrific awe as Lance detached from the earth. Claws slipping easily through the sand with the lost tension and fluidly retracting and forming back into long fingers with soft tan skin as Lance sat up. His long limbs folding into his lap with one movement. Hands tucked into his sides protectively.

           He’d gotten them broken for his adaptation before. Hard rubber work boots, stomping and cruelly twisting into the flesh of his hands. Breaking bones and skin. He couldn’t even hold a skipping stone right for months after that. The pain being renewed and rebroken every time anyone in his family saw an inkling of tiny black kitten claws piercing his skin.

           What would they think over him now? Long, sharp, dangerous and war tore claws?

           Did he look like a monster now?

           Lance looked up nervously to them, still sitting on his knees as they stared. Until Coran kneeled in front of him. Holding out his hand for Lance to presumably place his own hand within as Coran smiled reassuringly.

           “Thank you for helping Pidge, can I see that your hands aren’t torn up from the currents?” Lance frowned for a fraction of a second. Body curling instinctively to protect his hands. But Coran didn’t back down. He cared for Lance. Very much. Lance reminded him of his own son, but also not. Lance was witty and funny, but even Coran could see that something was not clicking with the paladin. There was always something just a little, off. The way Lance would move, the way he’d act. Keeping everything he didn’t initiate at arm’s length. Avoiding bonding sessions or showing everyone his mind and his body. Coran felt the need to shield Lance from the harsh reality of the world that Lance had already suffered. And with this new development surfacing, Coran was not going to back down on his small bit of progress. It wasn’t the lad’s wings, but it obviously was a sensitive piece of him. A private and more personal side of him. The instincts and tools of a predator. But also not dangerous at all, as Pidge had been held by these same weapons, and had not been scratched in the slightest. Eventually Lance caved in, hand shaking as he gave Coran one of his hands. His arm trembling fiercely as he did so, the stares of the others and Coran’s touch seeming to make his anxiety worse as his arm tried to tug itself away as Coran was able to get a small grip. But Coran didn’t let him. Studying the smooth skin, and watching as it formed into the claws they’d just seen. They were blackish grey, like the rocks on the sand. With white scratches on their hard surface. Probably from the rocks. Coran gently traced the scratches. Lance didn’t flinch, rather, he stared at Coran curiously, relaxing as no threatening move was made against his hands. Even handing Coran his other hand with no resistance. Letting it shift immediately as soon as Coran’s skin touched his hand.

           Lance had never looked so calm then in that moment. Even Pidge who’d begun to breathe properly ventured closer, not even the least bit afraid as she practically sat on Lance and grabbed his hands. Studying them for herself. Pressing her fingers against the sharp edges with the pads of her fingers. Marveling that even when they looked like they could slice her skin easily they didn’t even leave a mark. Lance answered the silent question.

           “They’re for digging into rock. They won’t hurt you unless you apply force to it.” Pidge slid her finger against the claw, her skin curved around the smooth yet hard nails. But didn’t get cut.

           “When did you get these?” Lance shrugged.

           “I’ve had them for as long as I can remember. They make climbing and swimming easier.” Shiro injected himself into the conversation.

           “You can swim? How do you not drown?” Images of the ocean bubble back to the front of Shiro’s mind. Not a fantasy. A memory. Lance can swim. That’s amazing. It’s practically unheard of. Lance looked down sheepishly.

           “I just do I guess. I lived on the beach my whole life. I knew how to swim before I knew how to climb or say my alphabet honestly.” Shiro’s eyes were locked on Lance’s wet form, his brown hair was curling with the water in it and sticking to his face. Lance looked up at him and their eyes met. Shiro hadn’t seen a look like that on Lance ever. He looked so at home, kneeling in the sand and the water. Pidge hanging onto him like a lifeline as he held her up on his lap, hesitantly letting Pidge wrap her wings around him. He looked a little uncomfortable, but not about to deny the girl who still probably shaken up for her near-death experience. They all filed back into the castle shortly after that. Allura smiling as she immediately demanded they learn to swim from Lance. Everyone smiling at the joy apparent on Lance’s face when he saw the salt water pool. It was no beach, but it was something at least. And Shiro was happy to say that he seemed to be getting better at reading Lance. Not quite good. But no longer completely clueless. Just. In the middle.

           Though Shiro had to admit, it was nice to see Lance so happy and in his element, the swim shirts and shorts they had to wear were suffocation. The males in the group even stripped off the swimming shirt, just deciding to preen out the water after every lesson. Though, Lance seemed happy enough to wear the suffocating material. Shiro guessed it was how he grew up. Parent’s doting over his wings, placing a shirt on him to make sure the currents and salt didn’t rip away or ruin his feathers.

           Shiro wondered why he’d never heard of people swimming if that’s what Lance had grown up with on the coast. He’d visited the east coast after all. The closet he’d seen to swimming was boating. And that was a completely waterless sport if you were talking about getting yourself soaked in water and not machinery meant to withstand it.

           Lance was proving himself to be a man of many very odd talents and surprises. And it wasn’t a surprise to Shiro that it only intrigued him and made both him and Keith want the Cuban boy more than before. Longing to hold onto that tan skin, feel it underneath their hands, their lips. Feel soft hair and soft feathers. Even Lance’s odd shifting claws were perfect. Scratched up with ‘scars’, but so beautiful in their own way. Having a destructive power, yet grace to not breach skin and blood unless intentioned that way.

           Either way, Lance was happy with the outcome of the days. Shiro and Keith were ecstatic too as Lance began to grow closer. Hiding away less. Letting himself occasionally be held by them, letting them wrap their wings around him like a tight cocoon. Lance finally joining the cuddle sessions. Even without showing his own wings. It was progress. Progress like reading Lance’s moods. It made the two so happy. Lance was happy too.

           His truth was safe. Hidden.

           Until later on, it wasn’t.

           Shiro also wondered why he didn’t see it coming when the truth did come out.

           Lance flopped to the ground, back smacking on the metal loudly. Making Keith wince and panic. Back shots were forbidden in training as they often caused wing injuries. Hell, no one could ever sleep or rest on their backs without being uncomfortable. Keith was immediately kneeling on the ground, pulling Lance up and reaching for his back to check before Lance jerked away from him. Keith immediately backing down even when Shiro’s and probably Keith’s instincts too, were screaming at him to put his hand on Lance’s back and check the health of his wings. But Shiro hesitated. Lance hadn’t even shown them a feather. Touching them was probably a very off limits thing to do. Lance proved that right as he ducked into his room, promising Coran to check his wings, before coming out ten minutes later, smiling and saying it was just a little sore. Though they wanted to look and check for themselves, Coran simply told Lance to take it easy for the rest of the day. Lance had smiled at them and nodded. Going with what they said easily.

           If only Shiro had insisted on seeing Lance’s wings that day. Maybe he wouldn’t have been this way. Maybe Shiro wouldn’t have sent him on this mission. Either way, even possible different solution or way didn’t end with Shiro pacing in front of a healing pod that contained Lance after a mission gone wrong. Lance needing it after trapped in a crevice deep in the planet’s earth. The crevice was large enough for Pidge to fly in, but not Hunk or Shiro. But Lance wasn’t flying out. Keith and Pidge had to go down to get him. Finding Lance bloody and unconscious on the ground, but thankfully still breathing.

           Though nothing was more shocking then when Keith finally said fuck it to Lance’s privacy after dragging the injured boy out of the earth and lifted his shirt to make sure there was no damage. And there were some bruises, some gashes, not surprising to see after such a fall. The real surprise, is what they didn’t see.

           Wings.

           Lance’s back was muscular, but smooth, there was no protruding muscles or slit where his wings could tuck themselves in for protection. There was nothing to indicate Lance was even supposed to have wings on his back. It was bare. But oh god were there scars.

           Lash marks lined Lance’s back like tally marks on an elementary school chalk bored. Long slashes of thick scar tissue on Lance’s back that went in every direction. Shiro knew exactly what caused marks like that. Belts. Whips. He’d felt their sting before. It was a normal sight on him. He’d grown used to the sight of scars on himself.

           But god if the sight of scars on Lance didn’t make him sick with anger. How dare anyone put someone like Lance. Someone so self-sacrificing and pure through pain like that? How dare anyone touch the one he and his mate were hoping to claim. How. Dare. They. Even Keith had bristled at the sight. Wings stiffening and puffing up in a threatening pose to make everyone aware of his anger. Shiro’s own wings had a similar response. While Pidge cowered. Pressing her wings against her back to make herself smaller as she pressed herself into Allura’s side. As if she were hoping to disappear into the princess. Hunk looked like he wanted to throw up.

           Lance was a wingless.

           An abused, and mistreated boy.

           He swam and climbed, and did all of these amazing things, because he had no escape besides hiding into the waves of the ocean or the rocks of the shore. Having claws and ways to survive in a world that rejected him. Treated him as if he were a plague.

           Lance had been afraid of them.

           Afraid to tell them.

           Because he was hurt so badly before that he didn’t see any mercy. Probably didn’t think he was worthy of mercy. Only knowing hands raised to hurt him. Voice raised to yell. Shunned from affection. Preening sessions. Home. The beach was his home. The fantasy of being called home.

           The ocean called for him like the sky called for them.

           Shiro could understand it now, why Lance didn’t trust them. Why he was in pain.

           But that was over now.

           Royal blue eyes, dark and light as the ocean. With kindess and gentle waves, as well as storm and raging waters opened to them as the tan boy felt out of the pod and into their arms. Hands pressing flat against his back in a silent telling that they knew. Yet still held him close. And Lance closed his eyes. Letting himself be held by the two males. Held in their wings. Lance opened in his eyes, and in his mind he say the ocean. The pull of the tides pulling at his mind. Calling him home. And he closed his eyes with a smile. Holding on tighter.

           One day, he’d be a part of the ocean. One day, he’d get to go home. But today wasn’t the day for Lance to go marching home. Not yet. His sky of water had to wait for him, there was still the ocean of air for him to learn.

           He didn’t think his home minded waiting just a little bit longer.

           He’d be welcomed when the tide came all the same.

           Just, not now.

6

Making History | 1.02

It’s like a video game. We just have to lure the British into that barn, and then blow them up.