smell the breeze

Angels walk among us. With crooked halos and shattered wings, they walk among us and try to remember what it felt like to be holy. Stretching out their arms and reminding themselves of what it felt like to soar.


Gods walk among us. Trapped inside too small bodies with nothing but the memories of when they were everything, and dream of the worlds and empires they helped forge. Their hands had once built galaxies, but now seemed so small.


Aliens walk among us. From far away worlds and twinkling stars, they carry on and wonder how they had gotten so far from home. One day they know they’ll traverse this galaxy once again, but until then they must make do with Earth.


Fae walk among us. Who try to remember their people, their customs, their dances, in a world that is convinced that they are children’s tales, and no more. Desperately trying to become themselves again, wondering if it was all simply a prank gone wrong, or something worse.


Forests walk among us. Those who remember their trees, their plants, the animals they kept safe under their canopy. Now they can only hope their small friends stay safe, until they can take care of them all again.


Animals walk among us. Wondering why they were stuck on two legs with none of their fur or feathers, scales or shells. Questioning why their voices suddenly are so wrong, so different from the cries they used to make. Surrounding themselves with whatever they can that reminds them of their home.


Ghosts walk among us. Clothed in flowing white and shadowy blues, wandering through areas that used to be solely theirs. They can no longer phase or float, but they make do. They have to.


Dragons walk among us. On feet without the claws they remember, and with heads held high despite the missing horns and fangs. They clamber forwards, rebuilding their hoard with every step of the way.


Dolls walk among us. Those with faded felt and chipped ceramics alike wondering why they were suddenly flesh. Looking over themselves and realizing their bodies were suddenly softer then they ever were, more sturdy then they ever were.


Galaxies walk among us. Made of star stuff and moonshine, infinitely growing forces trapped in too small bodies. Remembering what it felt like to span light years and wondering who had managed to trap supernovas into flesh and blood.


Monsters walk among us. In every shape and size; they walk; slither; crawl; and remember the days they were feared, and wonder if they really want that back. If they would want it back after finally being treated as a living creature with as much right to exist as anyone else.


Betrayers walk among us. With guilt-ridden hearts and regretful eyes. Who reassure themselves that it was the right thing to do, not quite sure if they believe themselves.


Saviors walk among us. With a shine in their eyes and smiles on their lips, reassuring all they come across that one day the sun will shine and all with be right once again.


Rebels walk among us. Causes long ago forgotten, but with fires still raging in their hearts. Challenging anything and everything. Unrest and revolutions follow them wherever they tread. Chaos and freedom, mixed together.


Survivors walk among us. Soldiers with nothing left to fear, who have instincts as their guide and luck on their side. Walking forward unafraid, because they’ve done this all before.


Immortals walk among us. Souls laden with sorrow, heartbreak slipping through their eyes. They know by now not to get close, but do so anyways because its the only thing that makes them feel anymore.


Soldiers walk among us. Hands itching for weapons they no longer have, tense with instincts they no longer need. Wondering why their body is so unmarred and unbroken. They had always done their best, but now they no longer knew if that was good enough. If it ever was good enough.


Children walk among us. Lost and afraid, they march forward, with the weights of a thousand impossibilities on their shoulders. These children are forgotten, and they would prefer to stay that way.


Cursed-folk walk among us. With cautious eyes and doubtful tones, who know that the world is against them now more than ever. Everything comes with a price, and they wonder if their price was truly worth it.


Mages walk among us. Hands of their magical tools of choice, ready to pull them out if necessary to defend or attack. Scared because this was the land their ancestors were killed in. Courageous because they continue forwards anyways.


Travelers walk among us. Those who took a wrong turn and found themselves in a world that isn’t theirs, hoping to one day find the way back. Strength rings through them, for they know they cannot- will not -stop until they reach their home.


Chosen Ones walk among us. Remembering what it felt like to be The One, The Savior, The Last Hope of their worlds- and wondering why that responsibility was ever thrust on them in the first place. Wondering why they had been abandoned back in their old world after fighting so hard for the one they had made their home.


Spirits walk among us. Spirits who see others like them in the corner of their eyes. Spirits who meet up in quiet secret places and remember, together, what it felt like to be themselves. Reassuring each other that one day they will all go Home.


Unicorns walk among us. Even with their horns no longer there, there is no doubt magic runs through them. They are blessed creatures, and they know it. Stars and sunlight glisten in their eyes, and every step plants flowers. 


Demons walk among us. Still feeling the darkness in their blood, and the calls of others like them. Hell fire and brimstone smells dance on the breeze, luring them away. Luring them back home.


Dire Wolves walk among us. Even without their pack, they are fierce. Every step a calculation, every move planned.The hunt is on, and it looks like you are the prey. Get ready to run.


Dinosaurs walk among us. Long gone though they are, the continue forward. With pasts surrounded by mystery and unknowing. They are a varied folk, from carnivores to herbivores and everything in between. Large and small alike they fight on.


Winged Ones walk among us. Backs aching from wings they don’t have- limbs they haven’t had in a long time. The sky calls to them, begging them to come home, but they cannot reply. Stuck on the ground, staring hopefully up at the sky- one day they might go home, but not yet, not today.


Glitches walk among us. Scratches on the disk of reality, blips in the world. Tilt your head, look at them from a wrong angle- they might just be lens flares, might just be tricks of the imagination. The world warps around a being that is not there, that shouldn’t be there.


Hellhounds walk among us. Hellfire sprouts from their paths, infernos blaze just under their skin. Embers burn their paws, soot stains their fur. Wildness stirs in their hearts, urges them forward. Feral creatures, born from fire and darkness.


Vampires walk among us. Fangs stained red with blood that is not theirs. Pale as untouched snow, with hearts as dark as the night they rule. Voids twist around them, cloaking them in their shadows. Look out for too sharp grins at midnight, watch your steps.


Elements walk among us. Raging winds, blazing flames, crushing earth, and surging waters rush together. Combining to make impossible possibilities, incredible worlds, exploding worlds. Elements that made up entire worlds now spinned into bones.


The Undead walk among us. Shuffling and stuttering, wondering if this makes them undead undead. Flesh now whole and bones unbroken, feeling their heartbeat course through their veins once again, feeling the air filling their lungs once again. 


Werefolk walk among us. Bodies no longer shifting as they once did, permanently stuck on their two legs, for better or for worse. From all walks of life, they shifted into anything and everything. They do what they can to remind themselves of what if had felt like to themselves again.


Starseeds walk among us. Those that have lived only a few lives and those that have lived hundreds walking together. Taking the same steps they’ve taken who knows how many times before. Memories trickle back to them, small ones and big ones alike replaying in their minds. Doing their best to remember their mission and goals.


Mermaids walk among us. Although, maybe walk would be the wrong word. Figuring out how to walk on separate limbs that used to be one. Feeling most at home when submerged in water, sometimes forgetting their new bodies need oxygen. Strong arms and new legs propelling them through water, making them relearn a skill that they’d known since birth.


Death Omens walk among us. Afraid if their mere presence curses everyone around them. Keeping to themselves, just in case. Wondering how much of their past life carries on to their new life. Afraid that their mere touch could end lives, wondering if its their fault every time catastrophe hits.


Psychopomps walk among us. Remembering their jobs, remembering their duty. Even when they hated it, they remember what that must do. Both an impartial guide and a guardian protector. It was not their job to judge, simply to provide a safe passage from here to whatever lies beyond. Smiling in the face of death, knowing that they are not here for them.


Shadows walk among us. Twisting and shifting, not solid forms but far from intangible. They are everywhere and nowhere all at once, watching on to every act, recording passively that actions of others, while also defending those in need, actively stepping out to protect. They are the night and the stars, and yet also the shifting woods and deadly blades that flash in the shade. They are, and they aren’t.


Prisoners walk among us. Remembering shackles and chains holding them back, holding them down. Forced in cages and cells, forced to repent. But now- now they are free. They are free to walk and speak and run. Every part of their soul sings. Shackles now rusted off, chains now broken- they have no intentions of ever putting them back on.


Robots walk among us. Rusty joints and electricity running through them. Mechanical men, made to work with no need for sustenance. Inorganic beings with artificial intelligence, making themselves better, making themselves evolve. Their jobs are not yet done.


Mountains walk among us. Their strength and fortitude transformed into movable flesh and feeble bones. Eons of near unending life taken away and replaced with a life of hardly a century. Where once they were feared and respected, they are now hardly ever seen.


Winter Sprites walk among us. Ice on their fingers, frost in their hair. Snow falls over their trail, painting the frozen landscape a chilling white. A shiver trails up your spine when they pass, followed by a freezing breeze- winter spirits in their element can freeze the world over, if one could be bothered to do so.


Seers walk among us. They watch, wide eyed and humbled, at the creatures who walk around them. Wings and horns and twisted bits, wandering through crowded streets. Their oddities, invisible to most, show bright and clear to the perceptive eyes of those who watch.



(want me to add one? Leave a reply and I’ll add it to the original)

See Yeh Break

Harry X Reader: Smut

In which you become well acquainted with Harry’s thigh.

Request? Yes:

riding harrys leg on a balacony overlooking the aegean on a sunny july day

THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING THIGH RIDING PLEASE

Author’s note: The beginning turned all mushy? Idk what that’s about (Yes I do. It’s because I’m fucking whipped for mushy Harry.) but if the transition seems sudden, whooops. :)


This vacation is an absolute blessing. A week away from the madness and noise of fans and paps and meetings. From the moment the two of you arrived to your private little getaway on the coast, Harry’s been warm and relaxed, and you couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

Keep reading

[After the battle with Gaea, Percy, finally home, is fast asleep in his old bedroom. Sally is sitting at the foot of his bed, staring blankly at a copy of Pride and Prejudice. Every once in a while she looks over at her son, as though afraid he might disappear if she doesn’t check to make sure he’s still there. The rooms suddenly fills with a light, salty smelling breeze, and Poseidon appears]

Poseidon (quietly): How is he?

Sally (staring blindly at her book): …Tired. Sore. Alive, at least.

Poseidon (exhaling a small sigh of relief): Thank the oceans for that. For a while, I wasn’t sure he was going to-

Sally (getting to her feet): May I have a word with you, privately?

Poseidon (glancing from her to Percy): ….Now? What about-

Sally (walking to the door): Just out in the hall.

[Nonplussed, Poseidon follows her out. Sally gently shuts the door, checking one last time to see that Percy is still asleep and present, then turns to face Poseidon]

Sally: I’m going to lose my temper now.

Poseidon (blankly): …When?

Sally (narrowing her eyes): Right now.

Poseidon: Well, when-

[Sally slaps him across the face. Poseidon gives an involuntary noise of shock and pain, clutching his face before staring at her in mute incomprehension]

Sally (breathing hard): Two years ago, YOU made a promise to me, while we were stranded in New York, trying to find our son, that if he survived, you would never put him through another curse, quest, prophecy, or geas- whatever those are. And I believed you. So why?

Poseidon (softly): Sally…

Sally (wiping away furious tears, voice breaking): Why did you lie to me?!

Poseidon (simply, with over two thousand years of pain, exhaustion and resignation behind it): Because I’m a god.

Sally (glaring at him): You are also a father.

Poseidon (helplessly): Sally, I’m trying to tell you the truth about myself.

Sally (through gritted teeth): I don’t care about the truth about yourself.

[Poseidon nods silently in understanding, lowering his gaze to the floor. Sally gives a shuddering sigh, face in her hands]

Sally (miserably): I’m a writer. I know how these things go. This story is just too predictable.

Poseidon: Predictable, really? What happens in the end?

Sally (quietly, turning her back on Poseidon, one hand on the handle of Percy’s door): In the end? In the end, they all die. Percy and every child like him dies, unless you and your family change.

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.

Dream Vacations for the Signs

…because we all dream about being miles away sometimes. 

Hiking (Aries, Taurus)

listen and dream yourself away

being one with nature, waking up to the chirping of the birds and the rustling of the trees, bonfires, the overwhelming feeling of freedom, disbelief towards the beauty of nature, wind making your hair dance, physical exhaustion but mental satisfaction

Road Trip (Gemini, Sagittarius)

listen and dream yourself away

listening to music on full volume, old gas stations, watching the world roll past in front of the car window, constant airflow to make the heat more bearable, pulling up to go skinny dipping or watch the stars, genuine laughter, hanging your head or hands out the window

Holidays by the lake (Cancer, Capricorn)

listen and dream yourself away

solitude, peace and quiet, rowing on  a hot and sunny day, watching the lake wake up und go to sleep with beautiful sunrises and sunsets, hot tea and wine, being with your favourite person, finding yourself, being free from troubles, watching nature sitting on a gangplank wrapped in blankets

Holidays at the beach (Leo, Pisces)

listen and dream yourself away

the sun warming you inside out, collecting shells, wasting your time in the sun, fooling around in the water, listening to the steady rythm of the tides, sand sticking to your body, smelling the salty sea breeze, burning your feet on the hot sand, the smell of sunscreen

Holidays in the city (Virgo, Libra)

listen and dream yourself away

visiting museums, sitting in beautiful cafés watching all different sorts people, long strolls to all of your favourite places on a sunny day, eating ice cream, smiling to strangers, taking pictures, watching the city wake up from a rooftop, midnight kisses under the streetlights

Holidays in the jungle (Scorpio, Aquarius)

listen and dream yourself away

wavy hair and summer dresses, lying in the hammock, wasting your day at a lagoon, living where no one can find you, worshipping nature, waking up to hundreds of different noises, diversity of plants and colors and animals, feeling completely relaxed

summer house aesthetics

HUFFLEPUFF- the smell of honeysuckle and warm breezes ruffling hair; dry grass crunching underneath sandals; lemon popsicles and flushed cheeks; closing your eyes and feeling the sun; a picnic basket being opened

RAVENCLAW- collapsing in the shade of a tree; crunching the ice from a cold drink between your teeth; pages of a book being turned by the wind; the scent of blueberries and freshly cut grass; cloud gazing in the company of a friend

SLYTHERIN- the sound of car tires crunching on gravel; leaving your house to go on a long trip; unexpected summer rainstorms; taking off your shoes after a long walk; spilling cold water all over yourself; loose tank tops and bare feet; wet hair making water droplets run down your back

GRYFFINDOR- the crackling of a summer bonfire; tying your hair up; sand between toes; breathless laughter from friends’ open mouths; putting your feet on a car dashboard; sunglasses and floppy hats; the reflection of fireworks in someone’s eyes

Not Like Other Girls

osh swept Laura’s coat off of her shoulders and hung it in the closet. “Here we are.” Smiling at her with affection, he inquired “Wine?”

She nodded. He paused, holding her gently. “You know, you’re not like other girls, Laura.” There was a tender kiss on her forehead, and he left.

Laura watched him go. Over the last five months, she’d come to believe that he genuinely adored her, which made her happy. His adoration was all she wanted.

The sound of clanging metal erupted from the kitchen, followed by a cheerful “Whoops!” from Josh. Laura chuckled as she went into the den and made herself comfortable on the couch.

While she waited, she heard a tinkling noise coming from the closet. She looked towards the kitchen, assuming Josh would come in any second. He didn’t. The tinkling persisted.

Laura scanned the room, and hesitantly approached the closet door. The knob was old and required a good strong twist, but she was able to get it open.

She was greeted by an unexpectedly musty smell…and an unmistakable breeze, wafting towards her from behind the coats and knick-knacks in the closet. Curious and surprised, she pushed the coats to the side and gaped when a set of stairs was revealed.

The tinkling continued, louder now.

Laura looked behind her cautiously. Once she’d verified Josh was still in the kitchen, she noticed a light switch on the wall. She flicked it on and descended the stairs.

The tinkling grew louder yet.

Laura stared in horror.

Chained to the wall were four women. Dried blood was caked around their wrists and ankles. Three were unconscious (she hoped) and hung limply. One was awake, but barely. She weakly moved her arms, causing the tinkling.

Before she could move, there was a voice in her ear.

“See, Laura, I told you you’re not like other girls,” Josh said. “None of the others were as dumb—”

His words were cut off by an elbow to the face. He staggered back to the stairs, just in time for Laura to land a blow to his skull with a fireplace poker.

Laura stood over the prone figure, a look of disgust on her face. Five months of pretending to care about this fuckface, five months of concealing her true motives, just to get access to this room.

She went to the conscious woman, opened the manacles. Held her when she fell to her knees, emaciated and weak.

“It’s okay now, sis,” Laura said softly. “I’m here.”

anonymous asked:

I ship you with happiness because that's what you deserve <3

((OOC: Oh heck yes. Here’s a picture of myself in my happy place, enjoying some tea, books, and blankets on a rainy day with my BFF, Peter Dinklage, as our cats purr and slumber.))

I guess I felt attached to my weakness. My pain and suffering too. Summer light, the smell of a breeze, the sound of cicadas―if I like these things, why should I apologize?
—  Haruki Murakami, A Wild Sheep Chase
Jason, Percy, and Capes

Or; Bi Ace Jason and His Journey of Self-Discovery

Or; Jason is Ace and I Am Projecting

So eventually Percy calling Jason “Superman” becomes kind of a thing between them. Jason only lets Percy call him that, and Percy uses it both to kind of tease Jason when he’s being extra heroic and praetor-y, and also as an affectionate nickname for his friend.

One year for his birthday, Percy buys him a Superman cape. He doesn’t wear it often, but it’s big enough that he uses it as a blanket a lot. When they hang out and play video games together, the winner gets to wear the cape. (He’ll never admit it, but sometimes Jason will let Percy win a little easier so that the cape will smell like sea breeze for a while after he leaves.)

A few months later, he sits Percy down and tells him that he likes boys as well as girls. Percy smiles, tells him that’s awesome! and that he does too, and hugs him. Jason hugs him back, burying his face in Percy’s shoulder. They watch a movie that night instead of playing video games, the Superman cape wrapped around them like a blanket where they sit shoulder-to-shoulder on Jason’s couch.

That year, Percy gets Jason another cape for his birthday. This one is just as big, but rather than red, it’s striped blue, purple, and pink. The bi flag, Percy tells him, a huge grin on his face. Then he unfurls it, and Jason sees the crudely sewn Superman logo in the middle. Jason laughs at that, head thrown back and just so damn happy, and Percy laughs with him. Jason refuses to take the cape off for the rest of the day (not that it mattered, since they spent the rest of the day bingewatching sitcoms on Netflix, but it mattered to Jason.)

Sometime later, they’re sitting next to each other on the couch, Percy’s legs flung across Jason’s lap, their video game controllers left on the coffee table from their last round. The bi flag Superman cape is tied around Jason’s shoulders since he’d been the one to blue shell Percy in the last seconds of the race and take first place. Percy leans forward, close enough that Jason can smell that sea breeze that just seemed to follow Percy everywhere, and starts picking at and fidgeting with the edge of the cape. So, if you’re Superman, he begins, nervousness wobbling his voice, is there any chance… I could be your Lois Lane? Jason smiles at him.

Things are going well between them. Dating is fun, even if sometimes their “dates” only consist of lighting a candle on the coffee table as they share a $5 pizza and watch cartoons together. Really, things between them don’t change much, they just get, well, closer. There’s more touching now, and for the most part, Jason likes it. He likes kissing Percy. He likes kissing Percy a lot, actually. And he likes the touching. He likes holding Percy’s hand, and he likes cuddling with him on the couch without fear of it being awkward. He likes when Percy comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his middle and rests his chin on Jason’s shoulder or presses his forehead to the back of Jason’s neck. He likes when they fall asleep curled up together and wake up with their legs tangled and Percy’s head resting on his chest, even if he drools, the bi flag Superman cape wrapped around them. There’s some things he doesn’t like so much, though. It’s nothing Percy’s done, because Percy would never do something Jason wasn’t explicitly okay with, but it’s the thought of it that bothers him. The thought of removing clothes and touching other places that leaves a distinct feeling of discomfort and repulsion in the pit of his stomach.

Unsure of what to do about it or what it means, he does the only thing he can think of and calls Piper. Surely, a daughter of Aphrodite would know what to do. He tells her what’s been going on, and when he’s done, she tells him that she thinks he may be asexual. When he lets out a noise of confusion, she tells him that it would probably be best if he talked to her half-brother Mitchell, since he actually is ace and could probably explain things better than she could. She gives him her brother’s number, and he thanks her.

Jason steels himself for what is to come. The talk with Mitchell had helped, and now that Jason has the proper words to put with what he’s feeling, he decided it was time to talk to Percy about it. It’s date night, which this time means takeout, a “clean linen” scented candle Jason had bought on sale, and a Star Wars marathon. When Percy steps through Jason’s front door, he greets him with a kiss and tells him he needs to talk to him before dinner. Percy nods, then asks if everything is okay as they sit facing each other on the couch. Jason nods, takes a deep breath, and carefully lays things out on the table, metaphorically speaking. He tells Percy about how much he likes being with him, but how the thought of doing… he fumbles for words… more… makes him nauseous. It’s nothing Percy had done wrong, just that this is who he is. He’s asexual, he explains, sex-repulsed. And he feels Percy has a right to know.

Percy has been nodding along as Jason explains things, ending with how he doesn’t think he’ll ever be okay with doing anything much beyond what they are doing currently. Okay, Percy tells him. He’s happy with how they are now, anyway, and he loves Jason so much that as long as Jason is happy, he will be happy, and that he’s happy Jason’s comfortable enough to tell him and that things are perfect as they are, and—

Oh.

He’d said—

I love you too, Jason says, and pulls Percy into a tight embrace for a few moments before pulling back and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. That kiss brakes when Percy’s smile grows too big for it. The rest of date night goes off without a hitch, and they fall asleep halfway through Return of the Jedi cuddled together under both Superman capes.

When Jason’s birthday rolls around again, he’s surprised when Percy hands him a familiar looking box. He opens it, and instead of blue, purple, and pink, the cape he pulls out is striped with black, gray, white, and purple. Percy’s grin is so bright Jason can’t help but smile back. He unfurls it, and sees the Superman logo stitched into it, slightly neater than it was on his bi flag one. He hugs Percy then, and Percy hugs him back, whispering I love you, Superman, into the junction of Jason’s neck and shoulder. There’s a lot of kissing after that. Then, they end up curled in the corner of the couch, legs tangled together and Percy half on Jason’s lap. Jason has his newest cape wrapped around his shoulders, while Percy has taken the bi flag one, and the red one lays across their laps. They talk for hours, about everything and nothing, from some new designs Annabeth has been coming up with to which flavor of Starburst tastes the best. Jason isn’t sure exactly when they drift off, but the last thing he remembers is nuzzling into Percy’s hair and being hit with that sea breeze as if he’s actually sitting on the sand and looking out at the ocean itself, and a passing thought about how comfortable and perfect he feels wrapped up there with Percy and all of their capes.

Because I love those hours before the sun comes up, when you wake up for a moment and you realize you can stay in bed just a little while longer. And you’re safe. And there’s no rush. And it’s quiet. For all my hub loves. xo Pre-pancakes, so it’s v smutty. Don’t get me wrong, it’s highly emotional and descriptive, but it’s still porn. To experience the full mood of this thing, I’d recommend listening to Max Richter’s “Three Worlds” as you read.  @captainwiley @dassala @the-reason-to-sail-home @thejollypirate @businesscasualprincess @shoedonym @katie-dub @abbadons-little-witch @swanandapirate @mahstatins

+ It’s dark when she opens her eyes. Not the dark of late evening, when the stars have begun to twinkle in the sky—when the only sound to be heard is the choral chirping of insects, the darkening of doorways. No, it’s a darkness that knows it will have to fade eventually, a grey dawn that casts their bedroom in a hazy, dreamlike glow.

A nippy, quiet breeze smelling suspiciously of rain tiptoes through the open window and she catches the scent of him on the air. It’s a spicy mixture of cologne and sweat, a warm, enticing blend that clashes wonderfully with the fresh, tingling wetness of an impending storm. She can feel his rough, weathered fingers against the bare flesh of her waist. The tap, tap, tapping of his thumb against her belly. The smooth, hard metal of his ring against her stomach not unlike the steady ringing of a church bell, a far off song, a call to his side.

Keep reading

Giant: Ch. 6

We drifted to survive
I needed you to stay
But I let you drift away
My love where are you?

It just happened, the flurry of it.

Kara never meant for that to happen, and she surely hadn’t counted on Lena reciprocating so eagerly. She never let herself even imagine a world in which that was a fathomable thought. But she ended up holding her against the fridge, and she left a handprint in the door because she was wound so tightly, she couldn’t figure out how to let go. She couldn’t remember ever not being able to control herself. And then Lena Luthor existed.

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concept: I’m laying on a lounge in a silk robe and nothing else, evening is settling through the city you can see from the balcony of my apartment, the doors are open and a light breeze, smelling faintly of roses and lilacs, ruffles my hair, I sigh dramatically, one of my many suitors comes through the door to spoon feed me pomegranate seeds and rub my feet, hoping I will accept their marriage proposal, but too afraid of me to press me further

evamoans  asked:

prompt: isak taking care of even in one way or another, maybe he has food poisoning because isak decided to cook food for him in their new apartment :)

Hello there, @evamoans my dear! I’m so, SO sorry for how late this is–between a couple of trips and work being crazy, the prompts in my inbox got away from me (also, I’m the worst, which I think is well-known at this point). But I loved your prompt and couldn’t leave it unfilled, so here you go! It got way too long and way too schmoopy, OOPS. Thank you for sending it my way! Can also be found on AO3 here.


the boyfriend experience

The thing is—and Isak supposes it should come as no surprise, given the ludicrously romantic timing and circumstances of their first kiss—Even is an absolutely phenomenal boyfriend.

And it’s not just the comforting, casual touches and the unreasonably frequent cuddling and the life-altering, mind-blowing sex, either.

(Although that stuff is pretty damn good.)

(Like, seriously. He cannot over-emphasize how good it is.)

It’s the soothing backrubs, and making sure Isak eats breakfast before school, and surprising Isak with baked goods or coffee or little trinkets that remind Even of something Isak said the previous week. It’s knowing when Isak is one textbook paragraph away from studying himself to an early grave and coaxing him into taking a break with the promise of sleep or snacks or Netflix (and yes, sometimes sexual favors are on the table. Hell, sometimes they take place on the table). 

It’s knowing when to press and when to hold back, when to offer quiet support and when to take the lead. Knowing when Isak needs to be alone because he got a shitty text from his shitty father, and when he needs to talk about it, or be spooned within an inch of his life, or fuck to forget.

The point is: Even is great. Even is perfect. So perfect, in fact, that the alarming and ever-growing disparity between them, in terms of boyfriend-ing, has become impossible to ignore. Try as he might to talk himself down, Isak can’t quite stop that ugly fear from gnawing at him—the fear that Even will wake up one day and suddenly realize, fuck, why in God’s name am I doing all this work for a smelly, socially awkward slob with no money and no skills and Dorito crumbs in his bed?

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Dorm Bedding 101

Okay, so first things first, if you’re going to splurge on anything in your dorm room, splurge on your bed. Trust me. You’ll be basically spending half of the academic year in it, and therefore snuggly is the way to go. So here are my tips on how to make your bed the snuggliest cloud ever. <3

1. You’re gonna be spending a shit ton of money on your bedding. So don’t decide to throw caution to the wind and forego a mattress protector. BUY A DAMN MATTRESS PROTECTOR. I don’t care if that mattress is brand new or 20 years old, it is dirty and you do not want to tempt fate. Just do yourself a favor and be the cool kid who doesn’t get bed bugs.

2. Next, you’re gonna need a mattress pad. Now, I personally didn’t really splurge on my mattress pad. It’s just a basic one from Target that I got on sale during tax-free weekend, but mainly you need it to keep all of your snuggly bedding from slipping around on that plastic mattress.

3. SPEAKING OF TAX-FREE WEEKEND. If you live in the States, do yourself a favor and go on your college shopping spree on tax-free weekend. The amount of money you will save is ridiculous, so just fight your way into Target and wherever else, grab your shit, and floor it to the cash register.

4. Now, as you sprint through Target with your shades on and the Mission Impossible theme song blaring out of the speakers, grab yourself a super plush mattress topper. Go as thick or thin as you want, although I’d recommend at least two inches for optimal snuggliness.

5. On to sheets! Okay, I’m gonna be honest, I despise Jersey sheets, but apparently they’re a thing for college students, so if you’re into that, go for it. Otherwise, aim for cotton, cotton, cotton. Get two sets of sheets. Believe me, sometime during your college life, you WILL ruin a set, so just save yourself a step and get extras.

6. So this bit is 100% up to your individual preference, but I personally would recommend getting a down alternative comforter (don’t get real down, save the birds, come on guys) in a neutral color. (Mine is white and I keep it pretty clean, but if you’re planning on having a Doritos-and-Pizza buffet on your bed, you might want to go for a darker color.) You can also get a duvet cover if you just really want a froofy floral print on your bed. Don’t get anything too thick or too thin, especially if you live in a place with four seasons; anything that says “all-seasonal” is A+ and 10/10.

7. And finally, pillows! I’d recommend getting two big pillows (I actually have four, because I’m a pillow whore and I have no shame), but any and all throw pillows are up to you. I would try to limit it to two, mayyyybe three small throws, since there’s only so much room on the bed and you don’t want to have to squeeze your body onto two inches of mattress next to your wall of stuffed animals and fandom pillows.

8. Lastly, WASH YOUR FREAKING BEDDING. I do mine every two weeks at least; every week would be ideal, but alas, I have a life. Just please, please, please don’t let your sheets sit and soak for four months in all the gross shit you bring in from outside. You don’t even want to KNOW what kinds of disgusting things build up on your bedding over time. Plus, is there anything better than sleeping in a newly washed and made bed that smells like Hawaiian Mango Breeze and success?


Voilà! Now you have a beautiful, plush, snuggly pile of love waiting for you after classes and studying. You’re welcome.

And to all the precious sunflowers going to college this fall, I wish you all the luck in the world, and don’t forget that even if it’s overwhelming at first, it’ll be okay! And of course, you always have boatloads of studyblrs (including me!) who would love to help you and give you advice whenever you need it.

Originally posted by dream-kittty

cinnamon.

character: lai guanlin.

genre: fluff, soulmates!au.

word count: 953w.

concept: your soulmate has a unique scent that only you can smell when they’re near.

summary: “he smells like cinnamon. i hate cinnamon.”


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For @yoursummerfrost , who asked for weather witch Nursey.  On AO3 here.


There’s something about the spring wind that always gets to Nursey, in a way that winter doesn’t.  It’s softer than winter, more coaxing than sharp.  It carries petals and rustles leaves and breathes life.  The wind in spring feels like the world waking up again, to Nursey, like the sky heaving out a sigh of relief that the winter has passed.

Or maybe that’s just Nursey heaving a sigh of relief.  The spring winds speak easier to Nursey.  The winter winds have always frozen him out, from when he was young, too hell bent on maintaining their sharpness.  Nursey has never been sharp a day in his life; at least, not in the way the winter winds are.  He’s jagged edges, sometimes, raw nerve endings exposed more than he’s ever been comfortable with.  But he’s never been a wall of ice, and no amount of “chill”s have endeared the winter to him.  

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the signs as things i like
  • aries: animal skulls
  • taurus: small dogs
  • gemini: shitty chrome extensions
  • cancer: tiny crabs
  • leo: big cats
  • virgo: jade liptick
  • libra: bright red chalk
  • scorpio: really tiny spiders
  • sagittarius: muscles
  • capricorn: carnivals
  • aquarius: magic in books
  • pisces: the smell of the ocean breeze