Flower meanings I wanted to get out there. It seemed pretty cool to me but was a lot of work as I couldn’t copy and past my research from websites. Use it for a florist AU or somethin’ I dunno have fun
Statice - Remembrance, sympathy, success Stock - Lasting beauty, happy life, bonds of affection, promptness Sunflower - Pure thoughts, adoration, dedication, dedicated love, haughtiness Sweet Pea - Delicate pleasure, bliss, departure after having a good time Tulip - Declaration of love, fame, perfect love
Rose - Love
Red Rose - Love, longing, desire, respect, admiration, devotion
Deep Red Rose - Regret, sorrow
White Rose - Purity, chastity, innocence, new beginnings, sympathy, humility, spirituality
Pink Rose - Gentleness, admiration, joy, gratitude, appreciation, elegance, grace
Orange Rose - Passion, energy, desire, pride, fervor, fascination
Lavender Rose - Enchantment, love at first sight, majesty, splendor, fascination, adoration
Blue Rose - Elusive, unattainable, mysterious, desire, I can’t have you but I can’t stop thinking about you
Green Rose - Harmony, opulence, fertility, best wishes for a prosperous new life or wishes for recovery of good health
Black Rose - Death, farewell, elusive
Mixed Roses - Mixed feelings, I don’t know my feelings yet but I care about you enough to send roses
Moss Rosebud - Confession of love
Thorn-less Rose - Love at first sight, early attachment
Leaf Rose - You may hope
Hibiscus Rose - Delicate beauty
Burgundy Rose - Unconscious beauty
Christmas Rose - Relieve my anxiety
Dog Rose - Pleasure and pain
Damask Rose - Freshness, Persian ambassador of Love
Garden Rose - I am from Mars
Tea Rose - I will remember always
Rose of Sharon - Consumed by love
Carmine Rose - Deceitful desire
Cardinal Red Rose - Sublime desire
Amaranth Red Rose - Long standing desire
Wild Rose - Simplicity
Musk Rose - Capricious beauty Rosa Mundi - Variety Single Red Rose - “I love you” A Single White Rose - “My feelings are pure” A Single Yellow Rose - “You bring joy to my life” “Let’s be friends” A Single Pink Rose - “I like you” A Single Orange Rose - “I am proud of you” A Single Peach Rose - “Thank you” “I sympathise with you” A Single Lavender Rose - “I am enchanted by you” A Single Blue Rose - “You seem like an unattainable dream” A Crown Of Roses - Reward of virtue A Bouquet Of Roses - Gratitude A Rose In A Tuft Of Grass - There is everything to be gained by good company One Red Rose - “I love you” “You are the one for me” Two Red Roses - “Let us be together” Three Red Roses - “You and me and our love for company” Five Red Roses - “I am halfway in love with you” Twelve Red Roses - “Be mine” Twenty Five Red Roses - “Congratulations” Fifty Red Roses - “My love for you is limitless”
Little kids were handing out cards like these and hand-made rainbow hearts around Pulse yesterday. Little kids are being taught LGBT+ people matter and these kids were so genuinely involved in wanting to spread that to strangers. Seeing such youthful innocence on those grounds radiating love and happiness telling me I mattered marked a pivotal shift in my mood that day and that’s when I realized that despite all the ugly, and despite where I stood a year later where hate shattered the world, we have progressed. Hundreds of people, of all affiliations and creeds, gathered around Pulse doing fingerpainting with children laughing, painting on wooden stars messages of a better tomorrow, dancing, singing, and hugging everyone. Celebrating in defiance. So to anyone feeling lost or still grieving - you’re loved, you’re SO strong, and most importantly you matter. Love you guys ❤️
So I started watching Hello My Twenties on Netflix because the premise sounded cute. The daily lives of five girls living in this adorable house. But two episodes in and one girl says she sees ghosts, another has a cursed bracelet maybe, and I am not sure but I think one of them may have killed someone.
This is not the type of show I thought it was going to be at all.
I decided to make this so it's an ~actual~ post and it might make it easier for you to understand your chart. Before I start listing placements I want to make clear that our dominant sign and planet has a strong influence no matter what. As well as the 1st house, Sun and Moon; as they all have an affect on our looks in an overall way - especially Sun. It is also important to remember that astrology and rulership isn't something that is stilted or 100% clearly defined, it all works together and flows together - like how Leo rules the heart but Aquarius rules the circulatory system (therefore veins). Another important thing to note is that you do have to take genetics into account. For example, if you realise your chart says you're supposed to have thick hair and yours isn't, it's probably just thicker in relation to your other family members:
What The Houses and Signs Represent:
Head, whole face
Neck, collarbones, also influences some facial features such as: mouth, ears and chin. Weight.
Shoulders, Arms, hands
Rounder; big eyes, full lips etc. soft but strong (crab)
Leo is the lion so the archetype is looking cat like and with great hair
The virgin, the look is innocent and youthful, flat foreheads.
The scales, there isn't really an archetypal look for this sign except making things balanced and symmetrical
The scorpion, archetypically intimidating looking. Piercing gaze, square face, strong shoulders etc.
The centaur/archer, long face and tall body. Also being pear shaped (carry most of your weight on your hips, thighs and bum) to give the "appearance of a horse"
the goat, flat foreheads but can have prominent temples, small features, even teeth and prominent bone structure; especially cheekbones
Water bearer (representing that they're hear to bring water (knowledge) to the world), large foreheads, noticeable eyes, the water bearer also has no assigned gender to the archetypal look is androgynous
The fish, full lips, big eyes, full cheeks
Summary: As a new professor at Hogwarts, you knew separating your present and your past within the walls was an important distinction to maintain your respectability. But finding out that your coworker was your schoolgirl crush for five years hadn’t been part of the plan. Pairing: Hoseok | Reader Genre: Fluff/Smut; Harry Potter AU Word Count: 13,788 Author’s Note: Took advantage of some Hoseok feelings I’ve been suffering from as of late and decided to pair it with my Harry Potter AUs!!!! Once again, tagging @chokemejimin who has asked to tagged in my HP works!! Hope you like it!
There’s a saying that goes around that often relates to the idea that people, places, or things that were once daunting and terrifying gradually start to become less intimidating with the help of time, growth, maturity—all those things you never believed would happen to you. After all, who wants to welcome the idea of growing old with opened arms?
You remember being seventeen and witnessing what you had believed would be the last sight you would ever get of Hogwarts, the comforting walls that housed seven years of your childhood, seven years worth of secrets, friendships, youth, innocence, and a desperation to chase after something you didn’t quite know about yet. Being as young and naive and indecisive as you were, it would have been difficult to comprehend the idea of returning, if returning to Hogwarts was something you even thought to consider in the first place. It never was.
It’s funny how much you had a tendency to return back to the place that reminded you most of home. Despite the history behind its walls, the war across the campus, Hogwarts remains consistent and peaceful and traditional. Unlike your very first day at eleven years old, you brush in through the doors of Hogwarts with a grace of familiarity. No longer do the tall walls that seem to stretch out to the ceiling terrify you and no longer do the endless corridors frighten you. You’re no longer a student who perhaps did not know any better. You’ve returned as a professor, just a little bit older and just a little bit wiser.
The baggage handle curled around your fingertips feel as if they’re growing heavier and heavier the longer you find yourself making your way through the outside courtyard of the school, towards the castle, trying to make your way to the new quarters you had been gifted with as a new educator of the institute. In spite of the struggle, it’s hard to keep the bounce out of your step, the smile across your features, because although returning back to the rooms of your past is not something you would have elected to spend your career under, it’s a new whole sensation approaching Hogwarts and knowing that you would get to do something and invest your time in something you were always particularly passionate about.
You’re just reaching the front steps of the school, before a voice calls out to you, striking a chord of familiarity in your heart as you let the tone sink into your mind and rummage through the archives of your brain. “Hey, you need some help with that?”
Sometimes I think about how soft Bellamy and Clarke will never get to be. Their softness, their innocence, their youth has been stolen from, in an even crueler way than it was from the rest of delinquents. In that way where their edges had to be hardened for them to lead, in the way where the weight of responsibility presses down on you until you’re as hard and sharp as a diamond.
In another world, Clarke would have allowed herself compassion- she would have cared for people as a doctor, brought beauty into the world as a artist. Clarke was always destined to make the hard calls, yes; but they would have been about rationing medicine or when to operate or an intense vote on the council on the ark. She wouldn’t have to cut her own heart out of the equation to cut out someone else’s. The blood on her latex-clad hands wouldn’t seep into her soul. She would have been free to love and be loved in return and she would have two parents and a whole unbroken heart.
Bellamy’s life never would have been easy, but there would have been a way, one day, for him to have a life where his love for people could always be rewarded; a positive, healthy, giving kind of love and devotion that doesn’t twist in his gut, that doesn’t inevitably turn into rage or revenge. He could have led a unit of the guard, and formed his own found family and given inspirational speeches without also knowing the scalding heat of a machine gun pumping bullets into bodies. He could have taught a classroom of boisterous children, without a mountain full of dead ones awaiting him in nightmares. His rash choices would lead to mouthing off to a councilman or getting in a fight with a rude boy at school, not bear the consequences of dozens of lives. In another world, Bellamy could hug and touch and love and be held and loved in return- in another world his vulnerability wouldn’t have to be rationed, or hidden, or protected and locked away.
And that’s the thing that makes Bellarke both devastating and beautiful to me. They didn’t have a choice in the hand they were dealt, and it’s not an easy life, and it’s not a fair life. They have both been broken down as people: their worst traits drawn out, their best tested to the limits of endurance. As individuals, they feel the weight - the loss - of what they were, of what they could have been. And they didn’t have a choice. But. But at least, in this life, they will never be alone. In this life, they can chose to be together. And, together, they can be whole.
Together they find those shades of softness they thought had been wrung out of them; together they bare vulnerabilities in defiance of their circumstances, a quiet show of resistance to world that has turned them into monsters. They offer understanding unconditionally, they offer forgiveness for the unforgivable. They make apologies on behalf of the world to each other. They trade the will to live, to love, to press onward between them, taking turns carrying each other to the finish line. If you’re on that list I’m on that list.
And they didn’t just fall from the sky into each other’s hearts - their love, their trust, their bond - is earned. They fell in love with each other’s ideals before they even liked each other; as that one article said - in the most idealistic way possible.
Bellamy fell in love with the hope and idealism Clarke had about humanity; he wanted to be what she saw in him, wanted to live in the world as she imagined it. He fell in love with a girl who through sheer force of will could bend the world to how she wanted it. He fell in love with her belief that there was a better way, that humanity could and should be good, that goodness can and will prevail. He fell in love with what she saw in him -never is Bellamy more whole than when he is looking at himself through her eyes.
And Clarke… Clarke fell in love with Bellamy’s heart. With the idea that someone’s heart could be both their weakness and their strength, their resilience, their courage. She was inspired by the intensity of his love for his sister - a love like nothing she’d ever seen, a love that changed the way she thought about love. She fell in love with his ability to reach straight into the hearts of people, with just a look, with just a word. She fell in love with his humanity - and with his ability to inspire it in others. And when she’s afraid she’s lost her own humanity, when she feels it slipping, he’s there. He’s there for her but also as living proof: that love doesn’t have to run out, that it doesn’t have to burn you down like fire to a candle. He reminds her that her humanity isn’t destined to be lost.
So after all that has been forced on them, and all that they’ve suffered - there is a measure of innocence, of softness that they will never regain, that they can never have. But what’s extraordinary - what makes Bellarke extraordinary to me - is how jealously and defiantly they have held on to that last measure of softness, of vulnerability, of humanity. They cling to it and share it between them and somehow, through that choice, they turn it into something more. Because when they are with each other, they are not only at their most vulnerable - they are at their strongest. They turn each other’s softness to strength, their compassion into determination. That kind of love transcends desire or declaration, definition or dismissal. And it’s damn well worth celebrating.
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!
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.
everyone liked that view.
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.
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.
ocean was calling his name. A name they never gave him. A name that was his
a single person could take that away from him.
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.
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.
sky was their home. The shores and the ocean was his home.
however, he was far away from his home.
wanted to go home.
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.
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.
was assumed to have wings like them.
to just be shy with his wings.
to be a loner.
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.
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.
missed the ocean.
still heard it’s call.
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.
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.
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.
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
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
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.
Like the taste of his deadly
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.
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
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
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
“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
“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
“I’ve had them for as long as I can
remember. They make climbing and swimming easier.” Shiro injected himself into
“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.
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.
“Why aren’t you married to me yet?” He asked one time, complete with laughing blue eyes and a cheeky smile.
I don’t quite remember what it was that I was doing. I probably said something amusing, or stupid or both.
But I smiled and looked at him and dared, “ask me.”
And in that moment, in the quiet of a normal mid afternoon, with the jostling background noise of the city streets below, in that dingy studio apartment I used to scrape by to afford - we really did think we’d end up together. We were no one, a pair of 20-somethings with idealistic dreams and a snobbish self-entitled depth, we shared nothing but youth, innocence, lust over cheap wine and an unhealthy obsession over each other’s laughs. We were in love. The kind you only get once in your life, when the world has only tainted you with its promises of happy endings and first loves.
Looking back now, in a way he did ask me. Not so much in words but in feelings. Those blue eyes, that cheeky smirk, the way he swept over me from across the room. He didn’t say the words but I felt them. And to be quite honest, back then, I would have said yes. Undoubtedly, unabashedly, wantonly yes.
But life happens, as you know. He broke my heart before he even had the chance to ask.