red and white coat

Rest Stop

Lance was never proud of the one thing that could make him stand out.

(The one thing that made him stand, even in his family, the one thing that destroyed the chances of affection and hugs and attention, the one thing he’d never move past, the one thing that’d always haunt him, the one thing that could get someone killed)

Lance was born with a smooth back, tan skin free of birth marks but full of freckles. Lance was born with beautiful blue eyes, deep tawny hair, and a dazzling smile. Lance was not born with a pair of wings.

Lance was wingless.

Less than 1% of the world was wingless, and that meant those who were….never had good fates. Abandonment, abuse, neglect, suicide rates almost a solid 100….anyone born wingless in this time and age was destined a shitty fate, to die for the lack of something they could not have.

But Lance did not.

His mother hated him with her very soul, but even she wasn’t heartless enough to murder someone, no matter how indirectly. His siblings might laugh with him, might eat with him, but they were never around for more than a few seconds, tossing looks over their shoulder for a parent or aunt or uncle. Lance was hidden away, kept out of sight by his parents and family for his whole life, living in the attic or traipsing the private stretch of beach that had been in his family for years, hearing the voice of the sky but never being able to answer it. (Not like he could without wings, anyway)

But then, he found a way he could.

The Galaxy Garrison, a military school where uniforms over wings were required, where group preening, cuddling, and flying sessions were encouraged but never mandatory. A place he could hide in plain sight and still see the sky. A place Lance signed up for in secret, got a scholarship, and shoved it all at his parents, the father who’d taught him the wingless were useless and the mother who never hugged him. A place that hate crimes couldn’t trace back to and murder his family if his secret ever got out.

It was too good to be true.

And it was. Lance was never the best, always mocked for trying to answer the call of the sky for the first time in his life. It wasn’t like when he’d answered the push and pull of the ocean. The ocean was cool, sometimes cold or freezing, but sage, wise and ready to crash and fall and crest back up. Ready to change, ready to grow, ready to soothe. Content to watch and learn, finding complexity in the simplest things, but brave enough to venture out on it’s own, to try on its own to live up and live past expectatons. The ocean was a gentle hand running over his back, swirling him around in currents of fate and past, gentle but wild, pushing but never shoving.

The sky shoved, but in what Lance saw as a good way. Watching gaggles of siblings and uncles and aunts swoop and soar, thrown out into organized anarchy midair, riding drafts. The sky was wild, insane. It could not sit still, it could not listen, it could not be gentle or understand. It was headstrong or helpful, stubborn or relenting. There was no in between. When it’s chicks matured and reached for the air, the sky threw them out, to the ground or the air.

A few chicks crashed, or came close, but they picked themselves back up, flapped with crooked or straight feathers, and chased the others. The ocean did not work that way. It could mimic, but it would never let it’s young crash or drown unless it was the best choice. Lance was glad for that, though he knew the sky would have pushed him faster, harder, to be who he could be, he knew he’d be the rare smashed egg, splattered on the concrete.

If it took years, he didn’t care. He was alive.

Lance remembers the looks at the Garrison at night or on weekends when he wore a bulky jacket and the issued pajamas, instead of snatching the chance to stretch his wings. The stares, the quirked eyebrows that the kid who joked, flirted, and screamed on a regular basis wouldn’t try for more attention.

Hunk, dear god Hunk, had wings big enough for both of them.

Beautiful, mahogany feathers that glowed golden on the ends when light shined on them. Thick, massive wings that he’d drape around Lance’s shoulder, wings that engulfed him in warmth and affection and took away unwanted attention. Too many people saw Hunk’s wings as plain. Lance saw them as a fucking savior, the first thing to treat him nicely and warmly.

But this savior need protecting from the savee.

Which was why Lance never told Hunk, or the team, that he was wingless.

Even Alteans had wings.

Coran’s were a gorgeous tangerine color, white, brown, red, and black speckles slipping between the feathers and coating them like candy sugar. Allura’s were an exact image of Alfor’s, deep, black wings the color of the vastness around them, silver streaks and dots making constellations that shined in lights.

The team’s may have been Earthen, but god, were they ethereal. Shiro, had a collage of slate gray and white, individual feathers breaking layers of colors, proof of the stress of the Arena. They peaked at the top, and were enormous, taller than Hunk’s but not quite as wide or thick. Pidge’s wings were peaked, but they curved out into cute little floofs. They only reached her hips, not past her calves or thighs like everyone else. They clearly weren’t fully grown, but Lance loved their speckled outsides, the tawny, earthy, color so close to her hair but clearly had a more hay-ish tint.

And Keith.

Holy shit, Keith.

His wings were like giant sparrow wings, angular but not peaked, wide burgundy curtains of feathers that fell to his thighs. They were warm, and firm, like a well trained muscle (which they were, technically). The ends were sharp and sleek, but the shy wing touches he sometimes gave Lance proved they were incredibly soft. Lance was always reminded of a wolf when he saw them; built for fast paced marathons. They were no where near as strong as Hunk’s, but Lance had watched Keith carry a Pidge in a simulated rescue. Wings weren’t designed to carry more than the weight of one person, the person with them.

He would never have a pair of wings.

So he reveled in the freedom that lacking a pair of wings gave him. Lance climbed, slept on his back, swam, and learned how to read emotions through little tics. The swimming came easily, like the ocean changed for him, parted and shifted to let him pass or propel him ahead. Lance knew he did. Wings weren’t an instant evolution. Generations of humans developed the genes and mutations of wings - Lance wasn’t just going to instantaneously sprout gills. He could, however, form a thin membrane as a sideways, second pair of eyelids. The same membrane acted as a moveable filter in his ears to hear underwater, and a slight webbing between his fingers. Strategically placed, retractable fangs a little bigger than his front teeth weren’t hard either.

The most notable change was when his legs stopped kicking, his knees disabled, and they swished back and forth. He could easily switch to kicking, but the longer he spent in the water, the more his legs acted as a single mass of flesh and bone. It wasn’t a tail, and Lance sometimes thought he was imagining it, but it was like a snake’s body, swinging side to side to move forward.

Wings were amazingly expressive, every angry twitch or nervous shuffle gave way to a mindscape, a scope of emotions and thoughts Lance learned to pick up on. Hiding your wings was seen as a sign of fear, distrust, and refusing to show them was a red flag in any relationship, platonic or romantic. It was normal to reach out and rest a wing on someone else’s as a sign of reassurance, and to purposely keep your tucked away meant you didn’t trust anyone with them. Your wings were essentially your life - if they got wet or mutilated you were grounded, tied to Earth and water.

And water drowned.

To his team, Lance was a hallow corpse without emotions. He was jello before it froze. They could hear his laugh, see his smiles, hear his cheers. But without his wings, the team couldn’t read him clearly. It was like they had lost their glasses, and Lance was the blurred board they couldn’t see, couldn’t guess, couldn’t decipher more than a few letters from.

They didn’t know, so they couldn’t understand. Lance wasn’t sure if he ever wanted them to understand.

How to Make an MTG Ixalan-Themed Halloween Party!

Looking to have a Halloween party with your friends? We’ve got a couple ways you can give it an Ixalan twist!

Here’s a bunch of snacks that go perfectly with your inner dino-pirate-folk-vampire during an Ixalan draft. What better way to keep yourself entertained while the kids come knocking at your door?

To really spice things up, pair these snacks with a Trick-or-Treat grab bag chaos draft! Have your guests BYOP (bring your own packs) from throughout Magic’s history, mix them up, and make the spookiest deck you can.

Dino Print Cookies

  1. Use your favorite sugar cookie recipe or box mix to make enough cookies for you and all your dino friends.
  2. Call upon one of your dino friends (toys work well too) and smash each cookie with their foot before baking. For extra flavor, dip foot in a little water and then cinnamon sugar before smashing.
  3. Fun fact: Raaawwwrrr means “delicious” in dinosaur.

Jungle Juice

Mix together green fruit punch, pineapple juice and ginger ale until it looks as green as the jungle and tastes as sweet as a tropical vacation!

Blood Punch

Are you a vampire on your blood fast? Try this tasty beverage instead. Mix together your favorite soda with grenadine until it looks like blood—much sweeter than the real thing!

Bleeding Apples

  1. Skewer red apples with wooden stakes.
  2. Dip apples in melted white chocolate.
  3. Drip candy coating (colored with red food dye) onto the apples until sufficiently gruesome.

Bloody Popcorn

  1. For something savory, add red food coloring to melted butter before sprinkling it on your popcorn.
  2. For something sweet, melt together sugar, corn syrup and red food dye, and drip it on top.

Merfolk Marshmallow Treats

  1. Melt down marshmallows in a big bowl, add crisp rice cereal and stir until well coated.
  2. Separate into two portions. Color one with blue food dye and the other with green.
  3. Put mixture into a dish, alternating and swirling the colors around each other. Then, pretend you are a Merfolk wizard and mold the marshmallow elements into fun shapes.
  4. Bonus points for nautical gummies!

Merfolk Coolers

  1. Mix together blue fruit punch, lime juice, lemonade and lemon/lime soda until a brilliant blue.
  2. Add slices of lime for a colorful contrast.

Treasure Cakes

  1. Use your favorite chocolate cake recipe or box mix to make enough cupcakes for your whole crew.
  2. Coat the cakes with copious amounts of vanilla frosting.
  3. Paint frosting with edible gold paint.
  4. Top with a piece of chocolate disguised as treasure!
  5. Hide your real treasure on a useless island.

Pirate Floats

  1. Fill a mug with a hardy serving of root beer.
  2. Drop in a scoop or two of vanilla ice cream and watch your bounty overflow! 

Have a fun Ixalan-themed Halloween party—and make sure to send us pictures!


history meme (french edition)  →  7 inventions/achievements (3/7) Dior and the New Look

“Dior’s first collection, for spring 1947 was called the “New Look” by Harper’s Bazaar editor Carmel Snow. So began ten years in which the diligent, fastidious, and shyly modest Dior was at the fashion world’s pinnacle, bringing Paris-centered haute couture back after a period of US-style ascendancy. Rita Hayworth, Margot Fonteyn, and Princess Margaret were among many glittering devotees, and in 1957 Dior accounted  for over half of all Paris haute-couture sales. […] The “H” shape (1954) narrowed and  flattened with an accent across the hips, while  spring 1955 saw “A-line” suits influenced by  men’s tailoring and flaring from the shoulder; fall’s “Y-line” brought tapered skirts and emphasis on shoulders. Other style-setting trademarks included sumptuous evening dresses, dramatic “coolie” and “cartwheel” hats, ropes of pearls, standaway collars, princess-seamed dresses, half-belts  on jackets and coats, and stoles. Navy blue, black, red, and white were favorite colors. Eastern touches were seen in tunic dresses and cheongsams (straight dresses with stand-up collars and a side split). […] Dior’s success stemmed in part from his brilliance at what today is known as marketing, and that flair for product promotion is as much his legacy as his New Look. While at the top for only about  a decade, the influence of his still-thriving, multiproduct global brand has been enormous, and he has been a major inspiration to designers.”  Fashion - The Definitive History of Costume and Style.

Sweet Tears Pt.6

Jungkook x Reader { Cat Hybrid/Dystopian Au! }(a)(f)(eventual smut)

Warnings: None???

Who could have known that taking home a hybrid would change ones whole life? How could y/n have guessed he would affect her so much? All she wants to do is help, but she doesn’t even know if he’ll let her.

Wordcount: 6k+

A/n: Ah~ I’m so glad I could finally get this out. So, grab your popcorn, and something to drink cause I hope you’re ready <3

|| Masterlist || Previous ||

Previously: Jimin and you both got up as well. As they put on their shoes and grabbed their items, you picked up the now empty glasses before walking to where they were. “Who is Suga anyway.”

Slinging her purse over her arm, Hyemi opened the door. “That’s a secret.” She showed you a smile, pulling you into a hug before starting to walk out. “If you need anything, we’re only across the hall. Don’t be afraid to stop by.” You let out a laugh, waving her off before Jimin stopped in the doorway.

“Y/n?” You hummed, watching as he stepped inside once more. “I don’t know much about what Suga does, but I heard there’s an important part of his process”

“What is it?”

He smiled at you, his eyes turning to into those lovely half moon crescents. “You have to create a bond stronger than the initial connection.” You cocked your head in confusion, watching as he gave you a hug and left.

It had been an hour since Hyemi and Jimin had left, the pitch black night sky and blinding city lights your only company. You had cleaned up everything. After putting the bottle of wine away and washing your two glasses, you listened. The house was now silent, an atmosphere that you were used to yet wished had stayed away.

Two days and three nights- one of which you counted as today yet the amount of action you had faced made it feel like years. You had found a hybrid, taken him in and already found yourself attached. The thought that there was over a sixty percent chance that Jungkook would meet a doomed end scared you. If you couldn’t reach Suga and get his help, what then? Bring him back to his owner to live a miserable life- or let him die? With a sigh, you decided to push everything to the back of your mind.

Keep reading

christmas is cancelled… mister hyungwon came and saved the world… merry chaemas to everyone…. ❤️

Madame Gaston

Fandom: Beauty and the Beast (2017)

Pairing: Gaston x Reader

As requested by anonymous: Gaston x-reader where it’s your wedding night. I’m the 1st to ask for one

A/N: It’s official! I’m writing for Gaston now!


If someone told you that you’d be marrying Gaston within a year, you’d call them crazy. But here you are, standing at the altar wearing a beautiful wedding dress holding the hands of your love, Gaston.

“Do you, Y/N, take Gaston, as you husband, to have and to hold as long as you both shall live?”

You smiled up at Gaston, “I do.”

“And do you, Gaston, take Y/N, to be your wife, to love and care for, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Gaston said proudfully as he brought your hands to his lips.

“By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

Gaston pulled you close to his chest, dipped you, and gave you a big passionate kiss. The people cheered and applauded.

The two of you walked down the aisle holding hands and covered yourself as people threw flower petals at the both of you.

“TO THE TAVERN!” Gaston yelled and everyone cheered. Gaston helped you onto his horse and he climbed on behind you. Gaston gave you another kiss on the lips, “I love you, my darling wife.”

You giggled, “I love you too, my darling husband.”

“May the celebration begin!”

People followed behind you as you made your way to Gaston’s tavern. Gaston hopped off and helped you down carrying you bridal style through the door.

“Drinks all around!” LeFou yelled, thus making Gaston arch an eyebrow at him, “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

Gaston nodded, “Yes, LeFou! Drinks all around! Music! Dancing! Let us celebrate!” Gaston’s little group of friends began to play their instruments. People began to dance around and sing. Some women, mostly the Bimbettes, were crying.

Gaston handed you a glass of wine, “Thank you, my love.” You sipped at it as you sat in Gaston’s seat. He lifted you up and you squealed. He sat down and set you on his lap.

You looked at him lovingly and leaned forward capturing your lips with his. Gaston hummed, “I can’t believe it. We’re married! Who’d have ever thought?”

You chuckled, “I never imagined either.” You gently stroke his cheek, “But you make me happy.”

Gaston took your hand and kissed it, “And you make me happy, Y/N. After I survived and was shunned by the town, I never imagine to be redeemed. But there you were, ready to defend me when I no longer had motivation to. I may be strong, but you are so much more stronger. And faaar more beautiful than I!”

“You’ve changed for the better, Gaston. I’m proud of you.”

“I wanted to be better for you. You deserve the best.”

“And you most certainly are the best, Gaston.”

Gaston shrugged, “Can’t really argue with that.”

You stood up and pulled Gaston to his feet, “Come! Let’s dance!”


It was late, everyone was drunk out of their minds besides you and Gaston. You yawned and leaned into Gaston’s chest more. His chest rumbled as he chuckled, “Let’s go home now, love.”

He picked you and decided to walk the couple minutes to the small cottage that you two now called home. He carefully walked inside and into the bedroom setting you down carefully.

He was about to put the covers on you, but you stopped him, “Nooo. Help me get out of this dreeeeess.” You whined.

You stood up and swayed a bit. Gaston held you by the shoulders. He then turned you around so your back was facing him. He unbuttoned the back and the dress fell, pooling at your feet. You stepped out and dove under the covers in only your bra and panties.

“Hurry up. Cuddle me.” You mumbled.

“Yes, I’ll be right there, beautiful.” He shrugged off his red coat and yellow vest. He slipped off his white shirt and only left himself in his pants. He hurriedly slipped into bed next to you.

“I know we’re supposed to consumate the marriage, but I’m really tired.” You mjmbled as you nestled your face into Gaston’s neck.

Gaston stroked your hair, “It’s okay, love. I waited for you to marry me. I can wait however long you’d like for that.”

You kissed his neck, “I love you, Gaston.”

Gaston kissed your head, “I love you too, Y/N. Sleep well, my wife.”