freedom pair

Rest Stop

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

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

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

Lance was wingless.

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

But Lance did not.

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

But then, he found a way he could.

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

It was too good to be true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this savior need protecting from the savee.

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

Even Alteans had wings.

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

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

And Keith.

Holy shit, Keith.

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

He would never have a pair of wings.

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

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

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

And water drowned.

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

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

mettatonlover858  asked:

I made more ' This guy loves his boyfriends ' hoodies. Here ya go Herc, John, and Laf. There now you all match.

John: Oh my god, we’re like the epitome of the cheesy couple. Or, uh, relationship. 
Alex: Don’t pretend you don’t love it.

Just Pick Up The Sword!: Unusual Gladiator Fights...

Dwarf-and-Giant Battles: This many-on-one battle rarely pits actual giants against actual dwarves (although that has been known to happen)

Usually a group of small, nimble opponents such as halflings face off against a single hulking brute armed with an array of huge weapons. 

The small combatants must use group tactics to bring their big foe down, while the large gladiator tries to keep the quicker opponents at bay long enough to pick them off one by one.

Blind-Fight: This one is simple: Two well-armed but poorly-armored opponents are blindfolded before their fight. 

They are often festooned with bells that jingle whenever they move to give a clue to their position. 

The crowd typically finds comical the stumbles, missed charges, and wild swings these fights produce.

Hidden Weapons: The gladiators begin the fight unarmed and unarmored. 

Strewn about the field of battle are all manner of arms and armor—and enough low walls, barricades and other obstacles to make moving about the arena floor difficult. 

Gladiators must find weapons and armor to defend themselves before other gladiators find them.

Jousts and Mounted Battles: In societies that value equestrian prowess, arenas host as many horse races as gladiatorial bouts. Sometimes the two combine. 

Four mounted gladiators must ride an obstacle course to reach the three lances and shields at the end of the arena. 

Swinging low at full gallop to pick up their weapons, the gladiators turn on each other, spurring their tired horses into battle.

Chain Matches: These matches often use convicts, who are often promised freedom if they win. 

Pairs of gladiators are chained together, then released to do battle in a hand-to-hand free-for-all. 

Successful gladiator pairs coordinate their movements so the chain does not hamper them, and the best even manage to use the chain as a weapon.

Captured Monster: Some gladiatorial promoters are known to pay well for captured monsters from the wilderness—everything from bears and tigers to more exotic beasts such as hell hounds, dinosaurs, or minotaurs.

Race against Time: Two gladiators are placed on a dais suspended over a pool of acid, flaming oil, or poisoned water. 

Through magic or mechanical clockworks, the dais slowly sinks into the liquid.

Only by winning the battle can a gladiator stop the dais.

The Siege: Arena managers build a wooden stockade in the middle of the stadium. 

A small team of gladiators must defend it with flaming arrows and vats of boiling oil, while a larger team armed with battering rams must seize the stockade (usually destroying it in the process).

Naval Battle: Only the largest arenas have the resources to pull this battle off, but it is always a spectacle that is talked about for years. 

The entire arena is flooded, then mock warships are constructed to give the spectators a taste of what real naval combat is like. 

Two rival navies ram each other, swing from ship to ship on ropes, repel boarders, and engage in sword fights in the rigging itself.

Spellcaster Duels: Arena organizers insist that all spells be suitably flashy and carefully targeted (area of effect spells such as fireball are prohibited)

Creatures summoned with summon monster or summon nature’s ally are particularly popular, as are rays and ranged touch attacks that do not have the certainty of a magic missile, for example.

anonymous asked:

Have you guys ever broken up? :(

Alex: We’ve had our fair share of fights and we’ve all said things we didn’t mean, but we always end up coming back to each other. I think it’s to be expected in a relationship where everybody brings his own solid share of baggage.

Frus headcanon: Francis tends to do more romantic stuff and thinks of himself as the romantic one in the pair, but Alfred is actually the better one at it. Because Francis likes doing these very charming things like candlelit dinner and fancy gifts that Alfred enjoys and thanks him for, because he knows he put in a lot of effort, and cares a lot about that stuff, but he’s one of those people who’s just as happy with something fancy or suave as staying at home or getting a handwritten note in his briefcase. Where as, while Al does romantic stuff a lot less often, it is always so genuine and heartfelt, with no thought given to making it clever or even really purposefully romantic. Like he’ll get him some really strange gift (can you really see that guy giving normal gifts?) that Francis didn’t realize he desperately needed until he got it and he’ll be babbling on about how it took him months to find just the right one and order it and he had to deal with all these weird shipping laws, but it was worth it cuz he realized it would really help him when he did X cuz he noticed that he blah blah blah etc etc. And Francis will just be standing there, in complete shock and love-overload from how innocently loving his gift was. Basically Francis is better as far as consciously-romantic gestures, where as Alfred is better as subconsciously-romantic gestures.

2

Bi:basically the admin Mi and the admin Bi tried to draw something together. Mi drew the bodies because Bi sucks horribly at anatomy, while Bi drew some clothes because, well, she had to do something because it was a collab and dresses are kinda the things she screws less

*muffled Mi coughing in the background*

Mi: …. uvu’ what bianca is trying to say is the admins made a collab and it’s perfect bianca stfu

Please, open the picture for a best resolution view

heartlesslynx  asked:

Sooooooo heathers the musical. Who is into it and how badly

Freedom

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: This got a little angsty, but the ending is very happy! Mentions of torture.

Summary: Soulmate!au where when your soulmate touches you for the first time, you get a burn mark from them. You’ve been captured your whole life until Bucky finds you.

Word Count: 1.9K

Author’s Note: OKAY, I was so excited to write this because I love Bucky so much and I love his lil pet names omg so please enjoy!

Keep reading

shepherdlynch  asked:

drabble request if you have them open still, for yoongi, titled, "Year of Cats." And I don't have any other specifications, so you have complete freedom :)

pairing: min yoongi | reader
genre: slice of life au / fluff, humor
word count: 978
author’s note: written in yoongi’s perspective! oc’s still Y/N, and referred to as she/her.

Originally posted by jimiyoong


“You’re taking me to a cat café?”

With his eyebrows screwed together and his lips forming a thin line, Yoongi’s reaction is to be expected. His love for dogs skyrocketed the moment Min Holly was brought into his life, at first by chance, because Hoseok just had to dump a little pup on him while the bastard went of traipsing around Europe for only God knows why right as soon as he was set to foster a dog for his Pet Society job, and now, he’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to him. Just about everything else besides music and his new furry pal have been put to the back burner.

But the set glare that Jimin has on him tells Yoongi that no amount of subliminal moping is going to get him out of this one.

“You owe me.” When Yoongi makes a slight protest from the back of his throat, Jimin throws in, “You forgot my birthday, you fucker!”

Keep reading

Can I Move In?

Summary: Life has already been shitty for you, but it all becomes worse when a lonely, snarky ghost boy decides to follow you home one night. Or does it?

Genre: Fluff, ghost! Yoongi au

Words: 3k

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

The alcohol you consumed during the Halloween party was still making you feel a bit warm. You would’ve carpooled with your friend on the way home, but she got shit-faced ten minutes into the party. So here you were, walking alone past midnight in the cold, lamp-lit streets. The dark never really bothered you. It was actually pretty beautiful and calming. What wasn’t calming was the cold atmosphere you couldn’t wait to get away from. The dress you were wearing didn’t help, seeing that it ended above the knee and was sleeveless. The sheer fabric of your coat was no match against the icy breeze too. But then you start to realize, there was no breeze.

It was really cold, but you were sure it wasn’t the wind. You didn’t feel anything blowing against you, and the trees were still, too. Getting a bit weirded out, you walked faster, your house soon coming into view. You sighed in relief; finally, some warmth and a hot bath for your aching feet. It was three more streetlamps down the road, and you would’ve walked slower to cherish the evening, but then the lamps started flickering. It started out slow, then sped up, making you make a run for it. Just as you were halfway in the house, you heard a loud pop.

‘What the hell,’ you thought. ‘Even if I was drunk, that shit was still creepy.’

Maybe the bulbs were just about die. Yes, that’s it. Who knows when they were last replaced? You certainly haven’t seen any electrician go out and maintain the streetlights, so that explains it. Even with the perfectly logical explanation, you were still freaked out. A hot bath could calm your nerves.

So what if it was three in the morning, the infamous ‘witching hour’? So what if the streetlights suddenly acted crazy? You were tired from all the dancing and being social, and you were getting the bath you deserved. You ran the water, waiting for the tub to fill. 

Thunk, thunk

Unmistakably, those were heavy footsteps. Now, you were really nervous. There was no way it was another stray cat that wandered in. The steps were too lous for that. Whatever was making that noise was no doubt human. You looked around the bathroom, frantically looking for a weapon in case an intruder got in. You spotted a shampoo bottle, knowing very well that it wasn’t tear-free just like what the label suggested. That could momentarily blind someone and give you enough time to call for help. 

Thunk, thunk

It was closer this time, probably even outside the bathroom door. ‘Okay, there is no way I’m going down like this.’ You reached for the knob and threw the door open. “Aha!” you shrieked, squeezing the bottle into nothing. No one was there. “What, where- I’m drunk. I am very drunk, and smelly, and the only thing that’s gonna make this night better is my hot bath.” you said allowed, trying to calm yourself.

Maybe it was just your imagination. A thought of you slowly going insane presented itself, but you waved it off. You already have your rent and your low paycheck to worry about, and adding more problems would just cause a mental breakdown. The warm water against your skin was preventing said breakdown. You thought you heard your bed creak, but you were too lost in relaxation to care.

After 15 minutes of the hot bath, you got out, deciding to call it a night. You dried yourself off with a towel and put on some panties and a large shirt. Sleeping with pants on was too much of a bother. You don’t really get that leg freedom with a pair of slacks. You shut the door to the bathroom, only to slam yourself into it in shock when you see a bulge under your blanket. It was moving, breathing, and you almost had a heart attack.

Walking slowly towards it, you reached your hands out, ready to rip off the sheet. “Dear Lord, I’m sorry for that one time I cheated on my AP exam. I’m also for sorry bailing on my blind date to eat nachos while having a movie marathon by myself.” you muttered under your breath. This definitely wasn’t some drunk hallucination anymore. Not when there was someone in your bed, someone who could probably murder you. You grabbed the blanket and ripped it off, finding an empty bed. You were dumbfounded, staring with a gaping jaw on the spot. You swear there was someone there. 

After a few moments of recollecting yourself, you let out a shaky laugh. What did they spike your drink with? You found yourself screaming again when you hear a groggy voice.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You looked at the pale boy sitting in the corner of your room. He had a sour expression on his face as he squinted at you, to which you returned the stare. Your chest was rising up and down rapidly, another scream stuck in your throat. His skin was so light, contrasting to the black sweater he wore. His hair was a light blue, matching the aura he had around him. Yes, he had an aura, a light blue tint surrounding his figure. He scowled at your shaking body, standing up and walking towards you. Only then did you find your voice.

“Wait, stay away from me! How did you get in?! If it’s money you want, there’s some spare change in the piggy bank I keep under my bed, just please don’t hurt me.” you cried out. 

The boy rolled his eyes, saying a silent tsk beneath his breath. “I don’t need money, especially in where I’ll end up in. What I do need, however, is a warm bed, so don’t enjoy sleeping next to me much, princess.” he smirked before hopping in your bed and pulling the blanket over him.

You were still frozen in fear, unable to comprehend what was happening. It was three am, and there was a strange boy stealing your bed. “Hey!” you yelled at him, grabbing a pillow and whacking him with it repeatedly. “Get off! I don’t even know you.”

He muttered a bunch of ow’s, shielding his face from your pillow attacks. “Here’s the deal, princess, I’m not hitting you or stabbing you with a knife, so why don’t you just let me rest?” he hissed, wrenching the pillow out of your grip.

“You little…” your face was red with anger. To say the night was unusual was a big understatement. You were supposed to be sleeping right now, not trying to get a stranger off your bed. The aura had you wary about him, but at this point, your fear just turned to rage. With all the energy you had left, you pushed him off the bed. 

You expected a thud, followed by pained screaming, but it never happened. Instead, your arms passed through him. You froze in shock again, staring at your hands showing through his transparent torso. Then, you both screamed.

“Ew, what the hell? Did that really- what are you even?! Just please leave me alone.” You stumble back,  vigorously rubbing your arms to get rid off whatever invisible trace of him you had. You breathed heavily, starting to feel light-headed.

“Oh my God, your hands were inside me. Shit, that sounds so wrong out of context. What was that for?! Can’t a ghost have some respect around here?!” He was about to rat you out more, but then he noticed you passed out, half your body hanging off the bed. “Jesus.” he grimaced, hauling the rest of your body onto the bed. He covered you with half the blanket, taking the other half and crawling under it as he slept with his back facing you.

You woke with your head feeling like it was drilled with a hundred jackhammers. You let out a groan and rolled on your side, memories of last night coming back. This made you sat up straight, glancing at the space next to you. The boy was gone. Something told you to look at your bedside drawer, so you did. A glass of water and two pills were sitting next to a torn piece of paper.

“Thanks for the nap -m.yg, the friendly neighborhood ghost boy”

So everything was real. You weren’t one who believed in ghosts, but you sure as hell did now. He had a light blue aura, and your hands passed right through him. He seemed harmless enough, but this was just too much to handle. You made a mental note to call the nearest priest after you had breakfast.

“Good morning, princess.” his monotone voice greeted you. You jolted up, looking around until your eyes rested on the wall mirror hanging in front of your bed. He was there, in the mirror. “You look like you got into a mud fight.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Excuse me?” you stood up, walking in front of the mirror and crossing your arms. “Listen ghost boy, you broke into my house and slept on my bed, without my permission, so you better watch your mouth. Don’t make me call an exorcist.”

His face flickered with an expression of fear, but then quickly changed back to the blank, stoic look he had. “Come on, y/n. Just give me a place to crash for a bit, then I’ll move out in the next blood moon.”

“And when- how do you know my name?” The boy chuckled, before disappearing from the mirror. You were met with your own frustrated reflection. 

“It’s written here.” You whipped around to see him standing by your drawer, holding your ID up. You ran towards him and snatched the ID just as he disappeared again. “Can you stop with the poof thing?” you said, exasperated.

Finally, he materialized on your bed, sitting with a contented smile. “You can’t call a priest on me, sweetheart.” he slyly grinned at you.

“And why is that?” you spat back, tone laced with fake sweetness.

“Me being here means other spirits can’t come in. And trust me, not all of them are as nice as me.”

You considered his statement, flashbacks of based-on-real-life horror movies coming back. You’ve watched enough Paranormal Activity and Anabelle to know how evil some ghosts may be, so maybe letting him stay was not so bad. You reluctantly set the rules for him over a cup of coffee and burnt waffles. Who knew ghosts could semi-cook?

“First of all, I don’t want you going through my stuff. And since you’re transparent, I don’t want the floating through walls and 360 degree headspinning thing. That shit’s creepy.” you said as you wrote the words down. He hummed in approval.

“Quick question, why didn’t the pillow I was hitting you with pass through you?” you stopped writing and looked at him. 

“I can control when a thing passes through. You caught me off guard, so I wasn’t really able to do it until I saw you about to push me off the bed.” He raised an eyebrow at you, then stared at your coffee mug, making it slide off the table, stopping it just as it was about to hit the floor.

You stood up, pushing your chair back. “That isn’t allowed! No ghosts tricks until I say so.” He shrugged again, making you roll your eyes as you sat back down.

“Anyway, do you even eat? Drink? Shower, or something?”

He wrinkled his nose at the last question. “As we’ve established before, I’m a ghost. I do neither of those things. Unless I want to, of course. I don’t even have to sleep-”

“Then why did you barge n my room last night?!” you cut him off. He scowled at you, and you suddenly find your cheeks heating up in embarrassment from your sudden yelling. You whispered a silent sorry before letting him continue.

“Sleeping is basically the only thing I can do to pass the time. When you’re a ghost, you get easily bored of stuff. I hope you understand, and fine, I’m sorry for intruding last night.” he looked away and pouted. You suppressed a smile at the sight.

“Okay, apology accepted. Last thing, if you want to use a something of mine, you should always ask permission first.”

After giving him a mini house tour, you settled on the couch to complete the last requirement in college before semester break. You payed no attention to the ghost boy, who’s name you still didn’t know, and typed away on your laptop. It’s been a whole hour of silence since you last talked. “Y/n~” you heard him call from the kitchen. “Yes?” you hollered back. 

“I’m bored.”

He trudged into the living room, pouting like a child. You chuckle at the sight of him. He immediately glared at you, pout disappearing with him. He just deadass poofed again, breaking rule number two. 

“Ghost boy, we talked about this!” You checked every reflective surface. You knew he was mainly doing it just to piss you off, and it was working really well. 

“Boo.” You jumped up, the laptop falling off your lap as you saw his face on the screen. You heard him laugh, the in the blink of an eye, he was gone again. ‘Shit’ you grabbed the laptop off the floor, checking if there was any serious damage. The space next to you dipped, and you figured he might’ve materialized beside you. 

“If anything happens to me laptop, I’m killing you again, ghost boy.” you hissed at him. He just scoffed, slinging an arm on top of the couch.

“Stop calling me ‘ghost boy’. Contrary to popular belief, I have a name.” He took a couch pillow and curled up on the other end of the sofa. 

“Which is?” you shut the laptop down, finally completing the file. You crossed your legs and faced him. His eyes were closed, about to take another nap. 

“Yoongi. I’m not Casper-nice, but I guess I still am? Yoongi, the semi-friendly ghost.” he yawned, and before you could ask him something again, he was already asleep.

It was crazy how easily you accepted a spirit into your home. You’ve learned to not ask him personal questions, like how he died, or why he was still among the living. You tried once, and each time, you just got a deep sigh and a sad look. Apparently, ghosts like music as much as humans do. He was ecstatic when he saw an Epik High album squeezed between some books. 

“You listen to hip-hop?” he asked you with shining eyes.

That’s how you came to listen to the album on repeat every Friday. He was warming up to you faster after that. There were times when you arrived home and there was freshly cooked dinner on the table, Yoongi acting oblivious about it. He’d be sat in front of the TV, pretending to not see the steaming pork belly meal. If you asked about it, he’d reply with yet another sarcastic response.

“Oh, why don’t you look at that. Food magically appeared, whoop-dee-fucking-doo.”

Sometimes, he followed you out the house too. It often had its perks when you were in some situations only he could help in. Like the time your teacher’s lecture was too boring, so he activated the fire alarm, setting the water sprinklers off. Or that other time you weren’t able to study for an exam and he peeked over Kim Namjoon’s test paper to observe, as he called it. 

“Yah, number eleven’s supposed to be C.”

“Yoongi, this is cheating.” you whispered to him, afraid that someone might hear you in the silent classroom.

“No it’s not. It’s called getting ghost-friend benefits. You owe me a foot massage later.”

The semester break finally rolled in,much to Yoongi’s delight. No school meant you being in the house more, which in turn means he gets to spend more time with you. Even though he wouldn’t admit it, he loves the attention you give him. Any attention was good attention for him, even if you’re screaming your head off after he appeared in the mirror again while you were doing your makeup. 

“Hey ghost boy,” you smirked at the name you always teased him with. He was sitting on the couch as usual, staring at the flickering TV (caused by his presence) timidly. “Since it’s the official start of break, I was thinking of laying the rules off. I’m gonna be here most of the time anyway, so I can supervise you.” 

“Are you implying I’m a child or something?” his eyes narrowed as he looked at you.

“I’m just saying. I have neighbors too, you know? I don’t want anyone seeing you doing the spooky stuff you do.” you chuckled at him. “The rules are off. You can do whatever you want.”

His eyes lit up, and he gave the widest gummy smile. “You mean it? I can float in the house now?” Of course it was the first thing he’d ask. During the first few weeks of being with him, you got used to the sight of him hovering over the floor, and sometimes even while sleeping on the bed. 

“I guess. But only during the night.”

He pouted a bit at your response. You rolled your eyes. “Okay, you can do it during the day too. But we need to buy thicker curtains.”

He let out a small ‘yes!’, then suddenly hugged you. His action took the both of you by surprise and he quickly pulled away. “Thanks by the way.” he said while ruffling his hair.

“No problem. I wouldn’t have to worry about you tracking mud in the house so-”

“No, thank you for letting me stay.” he looked at you, sincerity in his eyes. “The night we met, I was supposed to move on. Into the light, I mean. I just didn’t want to yet. I didn’t have anywhere to stay in, too. I saw you walking alone that night, and the dress you wore looked too revealing. So I thought ‘hey, maybe I should watch-over this girl for a bit’ and I did. Basically, I’m kind of like your guardian angel now, except I’m stuck in purgatory.”

“Awh, I never knew you could be sweet.” you cooed, moving your hand to pinch his cheek, only to scream as it went through. He glared at you while you took your hand back, rubbing it.

“Don’t push it.” he huffed, placing both his legs on your lap. “All this mushy stuff made me hungry. Can we get some pizza?”

“I thought you didn’t need to eat?” you chuckled at his demanding demeanor.

“Ghosts crave too.” he smiled at you before disappearing again. You rolled your eyes as you got your phone to order takeout, already expecting to see Yoongi in the screen. 

Cinderella (Part 2)

Summary: AU. After the tragic passing of reader’s father, reader is left with a cruel stepmother and two miserable step-sisters, who not only don’t care about her, but they use her for their own gain. Will a handsome stranger offer her the freedom she longs for?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,256

Warnings: mentions of death, angst, sadness, mentions of crime, mentions of murder

A/N: This is a RE-POST of my entry for the @stories-from-stark-tower ‘s AU movie challenge. It’s based off of the 2015 Disney adaptation of Cinderella, only with a bit of my own spin on it.

Originally posted by itsfabulousbucky

Keep reading

Freedom

Pairing: Ivar x reader

Warning: None

Word Count: 492

Summary: Freedom - The Power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants.

A/N:Finally I have managed to catch up with Vikings and SURPRISE SURPRISE I have developed a new obsession with Ivar the Boneless. (Seriously hot and damaged men just seem to be my thing :’) )Anyway it’s raining right now and my OCD brain can’t stop so this little drabble is the result! It is seriously tiny but it may evolve if I can’t get Ivar out of my head XD

Originally posted by whenimaunicorn

“You are a free woman now.” He quietly speaks, like he’s afraid to speak any louder in case his god’s may hear. 

My heart’s beating erratically against my ribs,  I’ve been given small glimpse of hope before, turning to face him I can’t help but take note of his feature gauging if this is a new form of Viking torture I have yet to encounter. He’s sitting leaning against the cabin’s wall, he’s wet and covered in filth and I realise the effort it has taken him to bring me this news.

“Free?” That word. So small but full of such significance.

“To do as you wish… you could return home.” He’s averting his gaze, those brilliant blue eyes that are normally filled with fury and despair simultaneously that I have grown used to now can’t bear to look at me, his hands are absentmindedly rubbing his legs showing his discomfort and I can only imagine the pain he endures.

At my silence, his gaze flickers upwards and I can’t pull my own away. “I could leave?”

“You could.” He swallows and my eyes take him in, the way he sits hunches, making no attempt to move closer, the way he can’t bear to look in my direction unless he has to, this isn’t a trick.

“I could run away and never see you again.”

“It would be your choice.” The cabin feels like it’s closing in, my skin feels like it’s burning from within as I make my way for the door noticing the pained expression on Ivar’s face. The ground in front of my hut is now a mixture of mud and ever-growing puddles as the unrelenting rain rages from the sky, my legs move and I instantly feel the bite of the water against my bare flesh, the fabric of my dress clinging to my skin and for the first time in a long time I can breathe. The thunder crashes above and the world is illuminated by the lightening and the laughter erupts from my throat, dancing in the puddles I push my sopping hair from my eyes and catch Ivar’s bewildered gaze.

“Is this a sign from your gods?” For a moment I relish in the feel of the rain, my eyes close but I can still feel Ivar watching me and in this moment I don’t care. These are my actions, my life because I am free.

Returning to his side I settle on the ground beside him. “I choose to stay.” He stares unblinking, his normally guarded gaze betraying the hope that he feels.  

“I choose to stay with you Ivar.” Taking his hand I gently caress the skin with my fingers “Not for any glory that is promised or for who your father was." 

My other hand gingerly moves to his face, an action I’ve wanted to do but never been brave enough to act on. "I choose to stay and fight with you.”

rampagehouse  asked:

I'm pretty sure she's not gay, mostly bi. What's with you Tumblr shippers and shipping same sex characters. You guys are a bunch of freaks

I’m thinking Enid’s bi but having a bit more of a preference for women than men, since the only guy she’s ever really shown any attraction for was Rad, meanwhile she’s had pretty obvious crushes on Elodie, Carol and Red Action.

Okay first of all, I ship characters based on their chemistry and how they act around each other/their attraction for one another, not on gender. Most of the ships I have are in fact straight.

Second, shipping is supposed to be a fun way for fans of a series to interpret characters and make friends with people who feel the same way, and I’m really sick of people going at each others’ throats or saying that certain fans are, as you so delicately put it, “freaks” for liking a particular pairing. Freedom of interpretation is one of the best things about fandoms, and if you don’t agree with someone’s interpretations than just turn the other way and go about your own business because there’s nothing you can do to change their minds and you have no right to make them feel bad about it.

Third, and this somewhat pertains back to my first point, Enid and Red Action clearly have mutual feelings for each other. The show made that point about as subtly as a brick to the face. If Red Action were a guy everybody would have interpreted Enid’s behavior around Red Action to be that she clearly had a crush, so saying that it doesn’t apply to “Back in Red Action” just because Red Action’s a girl is absolutely ridiculous.

If you honestly can’t see why I and many people ship Rednid then the fault falls on you for not being willing to see the truth of what’s happening in canon to the show.

Originally posted by professoroakward

anonymous asked:

Prompt 23 & 36, please.

Hi anon! thank you for requesting! I chose Liam x MC, I hope this is fine with you 😘 Thank you

Favorite moments

Summery: Liam’s favorite moments are always the moments he and Mc have to themselves, when the eyes of the court and the press doesn’t prick into them.
When his brother, Leo, drops off their niece without prior notice, they share another one of those moments.
*Written from Liam’s POV*

Author’s note:  This was so fun, since I had the creative freedom to choose which pairing I’d like to use those prompts on. Thank you!
I loved the possibility to do a (kindof) crossover from my fav couples from roe and trr :D I hope you’ll like that!
@thatocladyplayschoices I hope you’ll like this too, this is a light & fluffy piece ^^ 

Pairings: Liam x Mc, Leo x Kelly (ROE’s mc)

-

Liam and Mc were still getting used to being a married couple. They were married for six months now, and while MC wasn’t raised at court, or prepared for that her entire life, as some people have, she’d been a natural. Even Bertrand said that, during their wedding, when giving them his regards in person.
“She was a delight to sponsor” “Maxwell did an outstanding job” and “She brought hope for the entire court” were just few of the things he’d let slip when talking to them, but Mc wore a proud, slightly teary-eyed smile and pulled him into a hug afterwards.
“This, for an example, wasn’t queenly-appropriate behavior” He had to remain his judging, grumpy self, but the smile on his face and the hand around her back - returning her gesture - told them otherwise.
She was still her stubborn, cheery, and righteous self, but she’s also been a wonderful queen. All those traits only made her a better, more generous ruler, alongside with Liam.
Liam loved it when Mc eyes sparkled after every time they’d pass a law that helped those in need.
And they’ve faced harder decisions, together, too. No matter what they’ve had to face, they always pulled through. While the photos scandal shook them at their core and almost broke them apart, it also taught them a lesson. If they managed to overcome that obstacle, they could do anything, as long as they’re together.
“Your love makes me stronger.” Liam had told Mc. And each time they’ve faced a new hard decision, she’d squeeze his hand, reminding him and reassuring him they could do it.
They both had busy schedules, and were pre-occupied with many things, each had his duties to attend to, and so Mc suggested they’d make a promise; every other weekend was a date night, and they’d have an entire day to themselves. They made it as much as it was possible.
Those were still his favorite moments together, when the eyes of the noble families and the press weren’t all directed at them.

Liam finished off a busy day at the office, after countless meetings and political discussions, and headed for their bed chambers. He knew it was supposed to be date night, and the exhaustion vanished off him right over, filling him with excitement instead.
It was only when he reached their room, only to find it – unfortunately – empty, that he had thought to check his cell phone for any text messages or notifications.
There was, one unexpected text message waiting for him there.

Sorry, bro. She’ll be in the garden ;) – Leo.

That was strange,
Liam thought to himself, while changing from his royal attire to something more comfortable, while still keeping it appropriate for outside of the bedroom.
He got out into the palace’s garden, searching for Mc and scanning the garden.
He finally found her, and started making his way towards her, while Mc didn’t notice his presence. She was too busy playing along with the 4 year-old angel who happened to be their favorite (and only) niece.
The sun was starting to set, coloring the sky in a pinkish color,
and it made both of them glow in the dim light, making the scene unfolding in front of him to even more lovely.
Mc was wearing a simply white sundress, and her hair was tied up in a slightly messy bun, it was obvious a certain 4 year old was tempering with it earlier today, but she still looked just as beautiful as ever.
This seemed like it would join the list of his favorite moment, too.
“So this is where my two favorite girls have disappeared to.” Liam amusingly commented when he reached them, making Mc jump in her place, and wrap him in her embrace, and the little girl giggle.
“Liammm!” their niece jumped up as well, and hugged his leg.
Mc broke their hug apart long enough to let her pick her up, and then returned and hugged Roselyn from the other side, planting a big kiss on her cheek.
She was named after her grandmother, from her mother’s side.
“So, is little Rosie ready to go to bed yet?” Liam wasn’t even bothered his brother leaving them on babysitter duty, not ever.
“Nuh-uh!” She protested.
“Mc promised I could play a little longer today!” She used those puppy-eyes of hers, and Liam was sold. “I did promise that,” Mc confessed,
popping her head behind Rosie, and both of them looked at him with those big, hopeful eyes.
“Okay, okay, you know I can’t say no to that face. That’s unfair!” He joked, putting Rosie down. The little girl didn’t waver, running back to her toys and continuing what seemed to be a fight between a knight and a dragon.
Liam chuckled at the sight, and felt Mc leaning against him. He instinctively wrapped a hand over her waist, holding her close.
“Leo and Kelly dropped her off today afternoon. I finished off early and thought I’d rather spend time with her instead of a assigning her a nanny, though they’re great and she loves them too. She especially loves Bastien, even though he insist he’s not her nanny.
They said they had some urgent business, and were in the neighborhood, they should be back tomorrow.” Mc updated him.
Liam chuckled when Bastien was mentioned, memories of the last visit of Leo, his wife and Rosie, when Rosie decided to ride his back, and his ‘upset’ reaction, even though everybody knew he loved it.
“I also wanted to send you a message, but I knew you were in the middle of meeting, and afterwards I must’ve trailed off.” She blushed.
“It’s okay, Leo told me to go looking for you in the garden.” Liam kissed her cheek, thinking that Mc would make a great mother. She absolutely adored Rosie, but then again, Mc always loved kids. Liam got a wave of excitement wash over him, when the thought of having their own kids came to his mind. He couldn’t hind his smile, and Mc sent him a questioning look, still wearing a smile.
He sat on the porch, watching Rosie continue her play, and motioned Mc to sit beside him. She sat and instantly lean into his touch, and he hummed happily.
“I was just thinking how good you are with Rosie.” Liam started, placing a hand over Mc cheek, and stroking it lightly.
“Well, you’re not so bad yourself,” She returned at him, with a satisfied tone.
He was glad she thought that, she always seemed to know how to get Rosie’s attention better than him.
“And I’ve just thought… about having our own kids one day.” Liam admitted, looking into her eyes. There was some kind of blissfulness in her eyes and the way her lips curled up into a wide smile, with something additional hiding behind it.
“Just one day?” Before Liam could ask why she looked at him like that, she replied.
“W-What…” He stuttered for a moment, trying to understand what she was meaning.
“The reason I finished early today was that I needed to take a test.” She explained. “One day might be closer than you’d think.” She added. Liam’s eyes shot wide open in surprise. “Are you saying?-“ He caressed her face with both hands, waiting for her to say it out loud.
“I’m pregnant.” She confirmed it, smiling excitedly at him.
Liam almost felt tears of joy forming in his eyes, when he pulled her into a long, passionate kiss.
“Ewww!” They pulled apart when they heard Rosie commenting, and burst into laughter with her.
“I’m so happy.” He told her, when they both caught their breath.
“Me too.” She said, stroking his cheek.
He pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly against him. “You have no idea how happy you make me. With you, I always feel like the luckiest man in the world.” He whispered into her ear.

It was getting late, Liam helped Rosie gather her toys, and Mc lifted the yawning, sleepy-headed girl in her arms.
They accompanied her to her room, which was right next to theirs. A nanny already prepared it earlier today, so they only had to tuck her in.
“Did the knight beat the dragon?” Liam questioned Rosie before she made it to her bed.
“Nope. But don’t worry, the princess was there and she saved the day!” She excitedly told him about the princess defending the knight, and how it all ended with them being friends. Liam nodded at the delightful story, and Mc stood proudly beside.
Rosie fell asleep immediately when she lied on her pillow, and they slipped out of her room before she’d notice.
They entered their room afterwards. The moment they closed the door behind them, Liam’s lips were on Mc’s, and his hands were on her waist, holding her close.
“Liam,” She breathed out. “I love you so much.” She pulled at his shirt, until he helped her and pulled it off. “Me too.” He rested his forehead against hers.
Afterwards, they changed into their sleepwear, and fell asleep curled into each other. Liam drifted away into a blissful sleep, with Mc’s in his arms. This was defiantly getting in his list of favorite moment. Actually, it just shot up to the head of the list.