word on a wing live


Q: Difference between 화양연화 and Wings.
YG: 화양연화 is about the pain of youth while Wings is about the temptation of youth.

Q: Upon formally starting the activities for your 2nd full album “Wings,” what is your newly formed goal?
YG: I want to complete the Wings tour in my best possible condition.

Q: What would you do if you have wings?
YG: I might not fly to any place.

Q: What did you prepare special for ‘2017 BTS Live Trilogy Episode III The Wings Tour?’
YG: To manage my condition, I have been taking health supplements and in order maintain my physical strength, I have been exercising.

Q: With Episode I, II until Episode III, what are the changes that happened since then?
YG: From the group, regardless on how it was done, we have performed for many of times so our teamwork has gotten better. From myself, since there have been a lot of performances I have become more sophisticated.

Q: In your tour, where do you want to go again and what food do you want to eat?
YG: I only have happy memories with the cities and countries we’ve been to, so I’m looking forward to each city that we’ll be going to in this world tour.

Q: What do you want to say to yourself and BTS who are preparing for the concert?
YG: Do not think about anything, just enjoy it.

Q: If I was an ARMY, I want to __ at the concert.
YG: Sing (with BTS).

Q: To express your feelings for the upcoming ‘world tour,’ make a 2-lined acrostic poem using it.
YG: win - wings tour is
gs - a concert that we can enjoy

Q: A word to ARMYs who have given BTS wings?
YG: I will live with the wings you gave us, and will fly in the direction of getting higher and farther away**. Thank you everyone.

** = expanding himself
trans. by maeli (@xingyoon)

“Call it The Slut and The Falcon.”

Graves stumbles upon bright lights and mismatched tents. They looked out of place and he was sure they weren’t there moments ago. Lured in by the scent of incense and the sound of sensual music he enters the largest tent in the hoard. On a stage was a beautiful brunette in a corset and lace, dancing. The edges of his skin were misting around him as dark sparkling smoke. The dancer picked a flower from a nearby display and a soon as it was in hand the flower shriveled and turned to dust. Graves was mesmerized. When the performance was over Percival had to meet this beautiful creature so he snuck around back into the performer’s dressing room. Credence was not at all startled by Graves unexpected appearance and addressed him as such…
“So what makes you a freak?”
“Excuse me?”
“If you’re here you must be a freak too…”
Without a word huge dark wings appeared behind Graves.

Just a Gradence Circus/Burlesque au. Gradence lives and performs for the circus doing a burlesque like show using his odscurial powers to enhance his beauty and enchant his audience. One night Graves shows up in his dressing room. Credence can tell that Graves has something special about him too. Sure enough Graves reveals a large pair of wings. Having no place to belong he makes his home with the circus and with Credence. Eventually falling in love.

Made with PicsArt Photo Studio
We have a big God. We have a wonderful Jesus. We have a glorious Comforter. God’s canopy is over you and will cover you at all times, preserving you from evil. Under His wings shalt thou trust. The Word of God is living and powerful and in its treasures you will find eternal life. If you dare trust this wonderful Lord, the Lord of life, you will find in Him everything you need.

Smith Wigglesworth

See the Red

Link to AO3 
square filled: caning
ship: deanxcain (background wincest)
rating: explicit
word count: 2,179
tags: MoC!dean, sub!dean, dom!cain, caning, restraints, s9 canon divergent, angst with a side of porn

summary: Putting himself at the mercy of a Knight of Hell was probably not the best idea Dean ever had, but it was better than the alternative.

written/created for @spnkinkbingo. beta by the beautiful @silver9mm

“Why are you here, Dean?”

Cain’s voice was calm and deep behind that crystal tumbler. Blue eyes watched him over the rim, patient as a stone for a response.

Dean resisted the urge to scratch at the Mark on his arm. The burn under his skin was a constant companion now. Cain took another sip from the glass without a word, settled deep in the red leather wing chair.

“I need your help. You lived with it,” Dean said, voice rough. “Show me how to control it.”

Keep reading

Park Place (6/7)

Summary: You go on your usual walk with your dog only to bump into someone special.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: ~1200

Warnings: A little bit of angst. Mention of blood & injury. 

A/N: Second to last part! Eeek! I’m working on a new series as we speak. If anyone has any, I’ll take requests! Pretty much anything is fair game honestly.

Tags: @hymnofthevalkyries @lilasiannerd @feelmyroarrrr @barnesfuckedmeup @andhiseyesweregreen 


Staying in the tower by yourself was interesting, you found out that next morning. You had such an expanse of rooms to go to or things to do - you didn’t know what you wanted to do first. You opted to walk with Lola in the indoor track first, not wanting to go out in the cold.

         As you were walking, you heard the communicator beep. You looked down at it, raising your wrist closer to your face.

         “Y/N?” you heard Bucky’s voice from the small speaker.

         “Bucky! How are you? Are you okay?” you asked. “How’s South America?”

         “I’m fine. Everyone is, besides a little jetlag. And it’s warmer, and busy,” he answered. “How’s life in the tower?”

         “Empty,” you replied. “This place feels a bit like a ghost town with zero Avengers here. It’s like a restaurant with no chefs.”

         You heard Bucky’s laugh, and you smiled to yourself. You missed him already.

         “Well, that’s why you’re there. We should make you an honorary Avenger,” Bucky told you. You heard a faint voice say something before Bucky cut off the sound, but you could have sworn you heard your name. “Sorry, Tony was being Tony again. Anyway, we’re about to leave soon to get some more intel.”

         “Shouldn’t you not tell me what you’re doing?” you asked. “I mean, I feel like my security clearance isn’t high enough. Will my car suddenly blow up?”

         “Nah, I’m not telling you the actual stuff. But your car wouldn’t explode, it’d probably be your apartment,” Bucky retorted.

         “Okay, glad we’re avoiding that. Stay safe.”

         “Anything for you, doll. I’ll talk to you later.” With that, the communicator beeped again and turned off.

         Bucky’s calls a few times a day were the only thing that allowed you to relax a bit. Even though you could go swimming in the heated pool, or sit in a luxurious massage chair, or do whatever various unknown things you had yet to see in the facility, you were still stressed.

         Monday morning, you were lying in Bucky’s bed, having been talking to him for the past hour and a half when something happened.

         “How’s Lola doing?” Bucky asked you.

         “She’s good, I think she misses you. She snuggles down in your blankets a lot. Your bed is going to smell like dog when you get back,” you told him.

         “Well, tell her I miss her, too. And that I don’t mind that my bed stinks,” he replied. “I miss you, Y/N.”

         You sighed. “I miss you, too. Just a few more days, right?”

         “Yeah. And I know it’s cold out, but maybe we could go to the park. The Christmas lights should be up, and—”

         Suddenly, Bucky stopped talking.

         “Bucky? What happened? Bucky!”

         When sound came out of Bucky’s communicator again, it was mostly static, but you caught one word out of what he was saying: HYDRA.  

         After anxiously waiting an hour, just to see if it was due to a sudden change in the mission, you tried contacting Bucky for what seemed like hours. And no response, not even static. It was like he was gone.

         You barely slept the next two nights, but you were relieved by the fact they were all supposed to return today. You waited anxiously, still trying to contact Bucky through his communicator, and still no response.

         It was 11:59 on Wednesday night, and no one had returned. Despite the fact that they were late, you assumed that they would just show up in the middle of the night Thursday.

         But that wasn’t the case either, as Thursday no one showed up.

         Lola sensed your unease, and whined, resting her head on your arm. You were bundled up in Bucky’s bed, gripping a pillow tightly, trying to find something that smelled like him to calm you down. But nothing could work. You pulled Lola close, and you cried into her fur. You had to believe they were all okay, that they were just late. There was some reasoning for the lack of radio silence from Bucky. He was okay. He had to be.

         You stayed in Bucky’s bed all day Friday, and despite the fact you were exhausted, you couldn’t sleep. Not if Bucky might try to contact you, or if they’d come home in the middle of the night. Your eyes eventually closed from just how fatigued you were, but when you heard the loud engine of a quinjet Saturday afternoon, you bolted out of bed. You would have taken the stairs, but you knew the elevator was faster. You didn’t care if you were just in sweatpants and one of Bucky’s t-shirts – they could mock you all they’d like. That is, after you gave them a stern talking-to.

         You waited painfully as the quinjet landed. Sam was the first one off, and he bolted toward you.

         “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” you practically screamed at him. “You’re three days late! And I’ve dealt with radio silence for six! How could—”

         “Y/N,” Sam interrupted, placing his hands on your shoulders. You angrily shrugged out of his grip, and he sighed. “Listen, you can tear us all a new one later, but Bucky’s injured.”

         You nearly collapsed on the spot, but as you saw Steve and Nat supporting Bucky, you knew you had to stay upright. That didn’t mean your legs didn’t tremble, and that your heart didn’t feel like it was beating.

         You followed them into the med wing, and Bucky was placed down on one of the gurneys.

         “Y/N, could you remove his vest?” Steve asked you. “I have to get a kit and some sutures. Be careful of his left side – he got shot.”

         You nodded, and began to undo Bucky’s tactical vest. You worked gently, but still quickly, knowing he needed treatment.

         Bucky groaned in pain, and looked at what you were doing. “At least buy me dinner first, Y/N.”

         “You’re in no position to crack jokes with me right now,” you told him. “Shut up and let me help you.”

         “It’s just a scratch, really,” Bucky told you. He winced sharply as you peeled his vest from his left side, revealing his long-sleeved undershirt, and how it was covered in blood from the wound. You began to peel up his shirt, your eyes welling up with tears as you saw the hole the bullet had left. You were working on taking off his shirt entirely, but Bucky’s hands encircled your wrists, stopping you. “Y/N… I’m fine. Steve can patch me up. Go rest – you’re exhausted.”

         You glared at him. How could he expect you to just up and leave him while he’s wounded? “Like hell. Let me help you, Bucky.”

         His grip didn’t loosen, and you saw the look in his eyes. Fear.

         “I…I don’t want you to see my arm. Please. Just… just go outside, or something. I don’t want you to see me right now.”

         Your eyes stung with tears, and you nodded slowly. You didn’t say a word as you left the med wing and stared heading back to the living room. As much as you wanted to help him, to be with him, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. But you couldn’t help but feel like you were being pushed away from him regardless.

         And that scared you.

@viixenkiss // 

Welcome to the world, Lane thinks that’s a terrible start to a moving about the world ending. Welcome to it and now say your goodbyes because you twenty-four hours till it crumbles. Welcome to the world,  he could think, however, how that term alone applies to him - Welcome to the world Lane, now, prepare your goodbyes because it doesn’t want you. The young man hadn’t been to one of these dine and watch events in little over four years - mind abnormally preoccupied with details, useless moments wasted on useless hours, which ultimately kept him down for a day at a time.  Just look at him now, hands in that red hoodie, eyes heavy because he had a bong full of grass before coming and now, aimlessly, without reason, he wonders the crowds as a soulless creature may explore hell. 

The movie in the background barely drowned out by the chitter chatter of lovers. ‘Welcome to the world Davy, it’s a shithole with no power’ He’s no writer but he believes or recalls reading it some textbook once, that you shouldn’t use the same word more than once or twice and he can count on both hands that single line being done again, again, and again - the boy barely looks up in time to stop, form bumping into that of the other’s and he could curse the slowness of his reaction time at the moment, because gaze drags upward to meet their’s, words come all too slowly. Thought and thought and -  "Welcome to the world.“ Crap, no that wasn’t right but it makes him snicker anyways. "I mean…Sorry." 

A Poet and a Butterfly

He woke the dead dying garden inside me
like wings, his words fluttered
unwrapping the cocoon I lived in,

bedding me in verse
with sweet soothing sounds
loving me in musical rhyme

I evolved, rotating in the sky
floating towards his voice
like a butterfly in flight

a butterfly he held gently
loved deeply,
set free and said “now fly”

Wings To Words

Wings To Words

I’m sitting in a room that is drowning me with words
Emotions in pencil and ink that lie dying on the floor
They breathe their last breath like sickly paper birds
For every one that dies they’re joined by two more
Nobody cares what anyone else has to say
But they flock to me anyway

I’m giving wings to words
Letting them fly from my heart
Not knowing if they’ll be heard
I just push them from the nest
Watch them fall on deaf ears like the rest
Wings to words
The beating of wings
From the beating of my chest

I’m living in a world that has everyone needing to be heard
Emotions a stencil we think will hide lying a little more
They need their past read as quickly scraped words
For everyone that lies they’re joined by two more
Nobody cares what anyone else has to say
But they flock to it anyway

We’re giving wings to words
Hiding lies from our hearts
Not knowing if they’ll be heard
We just push them from the nest
Watch them fall on deaf ears like the rest
Wings to words
The beating of wings
From the beating of our chests

Words can have so much meaning
They can stand you up or knock you down
When you didn’t even realize that you were leaning
They can hide the truth
Dig the hole deeper to bury the proof
Keep people from ever learning
Keep all those ears burning
Build a home or blow off the roof
Let them fly
But understand why
They take wing when you let them loose

I’m giving wings to words
Letting them fly from my heart
Not knowing if they’ll be heard
I just push them from the nest
Watch them fall on deaf ears like the rest
Wings to words
The beating of wings
From the beating of my chest