#howling rifts

[kaisumisucreations]

wandering phantoms

featuring me, @shkika and an unfortunate pup at howling rift.

watch a speedpaint here!

[vynnyal]

Turns out Sunlit Trail isn't quite done just yet, so after all that they just send you to a dead end 😂

[21rstrejectedsoul]

how tf do you even play bruisers on ARAM? it's one of the worst experiences I've ever seen on League

you're entirely dependent of having a tank on your team since you can't really start teamfights by yourself or flank enemy backline, don't even talk about the Mark-and-Dash spell which althought really useful on certain types of champions like Alistar and Amumu, unless you have Flash off cooldown AND are playing a champion with one "get out of jail" button like Wukong or Riven, it's useless since it shows who you're going to dash forward and EVEN if you're quick enough to get a kill there's at very least 80% chance you'll be cc'd by enemy team unless your champion is also a Draktharr abuser 'cause that item is currently so fucking ridiculous

[ohnoitstbskyen]

They turned him into an anime boy haha https://twitter.com/spideraxe30/status/1676427863992463362?s=46&t=iPiW6_AcyhGzA3TEHU2-mg

... hhhhhuh. Yeah okay, that's definitely An Update. Does he actually look any different in-game? Did he get new animation?

Either way, that sure is... a way to approach him. A rather boring way, I feel.

Like, Vladimir is a dandy. Ignoring his terrible, terrible presentation in League of Legends, to me he always felt like he was supposed to be this over-the-top Dorian Grey hyper-hedonistic maximalist pleasure seeker, fully reveling in wearing outrageous fashion and being The Most Extra at all times

Wild Rift Vladimir certainly looks less silly, and a lot prettier (which is, in its way, an improvement, Vladimir SHOULD be an impossibly beautiful pretty boy I think), but this just feels aesthetically way too basic for him.

It's reduced his colors down to just the Noxus Base Palette, and completely removed the decorativism and ornamentation from his outfit. It seems like a design that's going for Sleek™ and I feel like he should look more like covered himself in glue and rolled through Howl Pendragon's bedroom

Like, he should look like he has a taste for the exotic and expensive, someone who hoards trinkets and jewelry and fashion items like a magpie, someone who wants to show you such delights, my dear, oh truly, someone who dazzles and overwhelms with sheer magnitude of decoration.

Someone who disarms his victims by seeming like a harmless, foppish pretty boy, right up until the blade of his claw rises up your neck and he asks you if you won't please stay for a drink.

Which, by the way, if you wanted to tie him more deeply into Noxus as a region, having him be someone ostentatiously displaying the looted aesthetics of regions and cultures that the empire is actively conquering would be a great way to do that. He's basically a vampire, you won't find a more pitch-perfect metaphorical avatar of imperialism than that.

All my criticisms aside, mind you, anything is better than how horrid he looks in League of Legends right now, so call it a step down aesthetically and a big step up in production value.

[ninii-winchester]

You’d never know (Part 3)

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.2k

Warnings : angst, spoilers s13, canon level violence, injury, language, not proofread.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Y/n walked over to the Impala and picked the lock of the trunk to get her stuff from it. She knew Dean would be pissed when he’ll find, she knew he couldn’t get angry at her even if he tried but then her mind reminded her of the events that took place the night before. The small smile that appeared on her face disappeared as soon as it came.

With a deep breath she grabbed a few guns, and a knife blade. She didn’t know what they might get into, so better safe than sorry. She closed the trunk with a loud thump and turned to the girl gang.

“We don’t know what we might be getting into, so be careful okay?” Y/n said loading a gun, her grip firm on it.

Donna had provided Patience and Alex with guns, while Claire had her own and had taken upon herself to protect Kaia.

“Alright girls, just stay put here. We’ll go in and check.” Jody said gesturing to Donna and Y/n.

“What? No! I’m coming with!” Claire argued. Jody went to retaliate but Y/n interrupted her, shaking her head at the older woman. She knew if she they refused her, she’d rebel and that might cause problems. If they’d take her with, they’d be able to keep an eye on her. Keep her safe.

“Jody, you, me and Claire will head inside. Donna if we’re not back in 10, come look for us.” With that the three of them went inside.

With hasty steps, the three of them carefully made their way inside the boatyard. There were loud noises coming from upstairs. Gripping her weapon tightly, Y/n led the two upstairs. There were a lot of those unearthly creatures. A lot more than they could handle on their own. They immediately shot at them and stalled for a few more minutes. Whilst fighting Claire’s gaze dropped at the rift that was open in the middle of the open space.

“Y/n!!” She called out and pointed towards the rift. Y/n saw the open portal and she knew she had to go in there as soon as possible and bring them back but she couldn’t leave them there. She had to wait for Donna to show up.

The moment she thought of her, the blonde sherrif ventured in yelling and shooting at the creatures, Kaia, Alex and Patience hot on her tail.

“Jody?” Donna yelled.

“Up here!!” Jody yelled back over the loud noise of shooting bullets. Donna had Patience with her while Alex took Kaia upstairs.

“I’m gonna go.” Y/n yelled to Jody.

“I know where they are. I’ll help you.” Kaia said with a shaky breath. Though she was scared to go there she wanted to help.

“I’ll come with you.” Claire yelled.

Y/n half expected Jody to intervene and tell her no, but she told her to be safe. She begged Y/n with her eyes to keep her safe and the latter nodded. The adrenaline pumping in her veins made Y/n forgot about her fall out with Dean.

Y/n went in first and Claire grabbed Kaia’s hand and jumped through the portal. The place was dark and gloomy, eerie and strange sounds could be heard. Howling of unfamiliar creatures.

“This way!” Kaia pointed towards clearing and the two followed behind. Y/n could hear grunting noises coming a bit far from where they were. Y/n overtook Kaia and followed the sound, she could recognise it as Dean’s.

As she ventured further she saw Sam and Dean, they were struggling to fight a creature. Y/n grabbed her blade from the back of her jeans and threw it at the creature, making it drop to the ground. Sam and Dean turned to look at Y/n, relief washed over their features. Dean took big strides towards her and grabbed the back of head pulling her close, he smashed his lips to hers.

Y/n’s brain haywire at his actions, she didn’t know whether to kiss him back, push him away, or slap the daylights out him. Before she could react he pulled away and gripped her hand tightly.

“This way.” Kaia said running towards the rift, Sam following behind. Claire was right behind Sam. Dean dragged Y/n along with him. Y/n’s senses were hyper aware after the kiss. They were a few feet away from rift. Bright light was emitting from the portal. From her peripheral vision she saw a creature creeping in towards Claire with a spear in his hand. She promised Jody she’d keep Claire safe, so she did what she felt was right.

As Kaia and Sam jumped through, leaving Dean’s hand, Y/n quickly covered Claire’s body with hers. She felt the sharp pain of a spear piercing her side, with whatever energy she had left she managed to push Claire through.

Y/n placed her hand over her wound where the spear went through her body, her hands wrapping around the gash, to prevent more blood from gushing out. Dean froze as he watched her cough up blood.

“Go.” She whimpered. He was two steps away from the rift and she was a bit far from it. “Dean.” She growled.

“No can do, sweetheart.” He said rushing to her side.

“Don’t waste my effort, you dick,” she coughed up more blood. “The rift might close any minute now.”

“Stop speaking.” He ordered picking her up in his arms. He took rapid steps towards the rift and the light was dimming quickly. With one quick step he reached the portal and jumped through. The rift closed the minute he stepped out. They had barely made it.

“Y/n.” Sam exclaimed rushing towards his brother as he laid Y/n down on the ground.

“Sweetheart, stay with me.!!” Dean begged, tears dripping down his cheeks. He didn’t care if any of them saw him cry, he didn’t care if anyone thought he was weak. He just wanted her to be okay, he couldn’t let her die, at-least not until he had apologised, not until he had made it up to her. Not until he had spent a lifetime with her.

Sam quickly took his shirt off and pressed it over her wound, gently holding it there to stop the blood rush. “Jody.” He grunted gesturing her to take his place. The others watched with anguish lacing their features.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, baby please stay with me.” Dean begged. “Sweetheart hit me, curse me, be angry with me just don’t leave me.” He pressed his lips to her knuckles, over and over again.

There was so much Y/n wanted to say, she wanted to be upset, be angry, ask him why did he say what he did. But all she could do was try and breath. To stay conscious.

Y/n felt her eyelids grow heavy as it was getting harder for her to keep them open. She reached out her bloody hand to touch Dean’s face one last time. He covered her hand with his own, placing a kiss over her palm.

“No, no, no!!” Dean muttered as he felt her hand go limp, her eyes fluttering close.

From behind him, he heard a loud gasp. It was Patience. But he could care less. He held Y/n’s hand trying to feel her pulse but it was there. Her heart beat was weakened and diminished. But her heart was beating nevertheless.

“I just had a vision.” Patience announced.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

[arowyn-m]

So this particular part of the new Heimer&Ekko scene was omitted from the Wild Rift showcase and only shows up in the Netflix YT clip and Arcane’s reposts on their respective socials.

It’s only a few seconds but it’s footage nonetheless so im going to yell about it—the ladder shot is interesting but there’s not a lot we can glean from it.

The logo shot is what really caught my attention, because the mechanism shifting in the background sounds like an opening lock, and we’ve already seen both the lock to Jayce and Viktor’s lab and the ones for Heimerdinger’s lab.

The lock for Jayce and Viktor’s lab ^

The lock(s) for Heimerdinger’s lab ^

Neither lock is large enough to make that resounding noise…so maybe Heimer&Ekko aren’t going to either of those places. OR, they’re sneaking into one of the labs to unlock a container that’s being kept inside. Whatever it is, it’s very big.

Alternatively, this could just be an unlocking sound effect from elsewhere in the show added in for effect. But seeing as the teasers so far haven’t been shy to fit plot-relevant sfx in towards the end (Warwick’s howl in the S2 development reveal is the biggest example), I wouldn’t be surprised if it meant more than nothing.

[resident-quilt]

Shrue’s descent into radicalism and what the Silt Verses says about our world today

(also, regarding the giant poem that the episode titles make) ITS A TUMBLR ESSAY BABYYYYYYYYY

Kill your gods. Starve them out, topple their statues, forsake their comfort— Kill the stories that gave birth to them. Tear away your flesh that bears their marks.  Adjudicator Shrue, Ep. 43

The Silt Verses is a story born of its time, to a 21st century world which is slowly decaying—and everyone in it is doing their part to help it decay just a little bit faster. It speaks of capitalism, of corruption, of power and belief and environmental destruction and the rift between generations. When Charles tells Val he can’t really stand behind the idea of a family (“You wonder about what kind of world we’re bringing children into, y’know?”) I had to pause and gather myself; it’s something we hear from so many Gen Z’ers today.

But then Shrue’s speech came, and it made no sense.

Shrue calls for an end in any form it can be given. They call for the loss of all faith and love and community in the world; they call for us to kill the stories of our history, to kill the figures we believe in and the ones that give us hope. Anything, everything, all we can give to stop the decay and degradation of the world. They demand us to defeat the corrupt system we have built by trading our lives to do so.

If our words and stories sustain them, let us fall silent. If our communities rely on them, let us drift apart and die, lonely, in the polluted wilds amongst the howling winds of long forgotten deities.

It made no sense because TSV, most simplistically, embodies “no ethical consumption under capitalism”—and this solidly did not fit. So I cast about for an answer to what it all meant, because TSV had grown to be more than the “folks, look where capitalism got us” which I thought it to be. And Shrue's “we can’t do anything to escape the system but die” was just too flat a conclusion. 

Then I fell upon the poem compiled from each episode’s title.

It begins with the start of humanity: a story of things that have happened, things people have believed, things which have roamed the land from then til now. 

Let me speak first of revelations, and next of dark deceit. Then I’ll speak of champions, of lovers, gods and beasts.

And so the poem continues in a description of this story, until it eventually twists to become entirely self-destructive around Chapters 18-24. It's a reference to how everything in the TSV universe seems to eat itself: their system of gods, sacrifices, even the characters themselves.

If I could trace with bloodless fingers, if my hands could shape the flow, I’d bear this song to the precipice and rend us both to dust below.  We’d both go plunging downwards, one final fall from grace— I’d howl, I’d scream, in victory, and we’d be gone without a trace. 

At Chapter 25, we get a respite from the story. We get a short poetic break which concludes that yes, we’re doomed to die—but we continue as we are despite it, and write our story even if it’ll be lost in the end. It’s a classic conclusion that a lot of literature and poetry fall to, because it’s so very human. It’s a cliche, and it’s a cliche for a reason. 

But we’ll never be rid of each other, my song, my sorrow, and I,  So I’ll bear it trembling onwards: to drift on, to dream, to die.

With that, the poem progresses forward until it starts addressing our end and what happens when we face that. It screams of last-ditch efforts keep on believing, even as we plunge down and down and the world just gets worse and worse. Shrue’s speech takes place in “One Last Song of Revelations” (the title is so fitting!), where they vocalize their realization that their pacifist attitude isn’t doing shit to change anything. 

But when they switch towards radicalism because it’s, evidently, the only way anything will ever get done—the only way anything will get the exposure to maybe make an impact—they speak of the destruction of society as a whole. Not the eradication of capitalism, nor the installation of kinder gods, nor the lowering of sacrifice ceilings. They speak of true destruction. Utter destruction.

Shrue’s speech isn’t some call to action, nor does it embody any concrete ideology which the writers are trying to convey. It’s just an expression of desperation. Nothing is working; no one is listening. 

What this poem sounds like is a story of how our world goes. It's its birth, its self-destruction, its philosophical revelations, its finale.

When we began following Carpenter and Faulkner in the reeds of the White Gull River, we were consuming a commentary on capitalism. Now, it’s more. It’s a commentary, yes, but it’s not only that—it’s an exploration. The Silt Verses is a tragic exploration of our world as it connects to theirs, of how we’ve been driven so far and been corrupted so deeply that only radicalism makes a difference because only radicalism is what gets the notice and attention to spark moderate change. And that same radicalism is going to destroy the society we have left.

But it’s all the same in the end, because society's collapse was going to happen anyways. So at least someone had it in them to fight for something.

GAHHHH I LOVE THIS SHOW

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

A Lesson in Fontaine Flora

Synopsis: Fontaine is, among other things, a nation of romance, and you find yourself at the mercy of one of its oldest traditions.

Foul Legacy x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Fluff Warnings: Allusions to anxiety and battle

~ * ~ Someone’s been leaving flowers on your doorstep. It started about a week ago, right after you returned from a job on Elynas. Ready to collapse onto your bed for the night, you hadn’t even noticed anything until your foot brushed against the petals of a freshly picked marcotte, right on top of your welcome mat. Then the next day, a romaritime, and a lumidouce bell after that. Only one per day, but always freshly picked and covered in dew. Marcotte- “I treasure your friendship.” This type of thing isn’t entirely unheard of- quite the opposite, actually. Fontaine prides itself on being “romantical” alongside being the nation of Justice and Hydro- honestly, you’re not sure how many more signature traits one city can take. Still, giving flowers to someone you fancy isn’t exactly out of the ordinary in the Court. Many nobles even take time to study the language of the blossoms, arranging bouquets for their loved ones depending on what message they want to send; marcottes for friendship, pluie lotuses for gratitude, rainbow roses for love, and so on.

You just never expected it to happen to you- who would waste time giving flowers to a workaholic agent of the Marechaussee Phantom? Rarely were you ever home to admire them, although you found them beautiful, and you’ve never been good with plants, nor were you close to any of your coworkers other than a couple of the Melusine who looked up to you. All you could do was shrug and put any new blooms you received in some water, the vase overflowing with flora of all types and colors, and go on with your work, as a Marechaussee agent never rests. Somehow, the flowers haven’t withered yet. You admire them on cold, lonely nights, the sweet scent making you hum in the moonlight. Your new assignment is again on Elynas- something about rifts and odd magic summoning unearthly monsters- and you catch a quick ride on a passing ship, since the aquabus doesn’t go to Elynas yet. The air is hot and humid, your clothes sticking to your skin as you traverse the bone-scattered landscape, avoiding the rogue mekas and treasure hoarders. They’re not yours to deal with, not yet. Though it seems like someone else is already on the job, a few violently destroyed automatons blocking parts of the path, torn to shreds. The air turns dark and smoky as you approach a clearing in between the mountains, a symbol in the ground glowing oddly purple and patrolled by floating hounds. As soon as you get close they attack, snarling and howling at your unwelcome presence with blank, shining eyes. A few swishes of your blade makes them crumble, your skills with a weapon outmatching your need for a vision. Still, the sun has long set by the time you’re done clearing the area, using what knowledge you have of Teyvat to scrub any trace of the purple symbol from the ground, and by the time you arrive home you’re covered in dust and exhaustion.

Another flower lays near your door, a richly-colored pluie lotus, and despite your irritation your lips twitch up into a grin. Pluie lotus- “Thank you for being here.” You’re free from work the next morning, as you receive at least one day off every month, courtesy of Monsieur Neuvillette. Normally it’d be a blessing to have a break, for most people, but you always find yourself rather bored and restless, being so attached to your job. So you do what you always do- return to the site of your previous investigation. It’s just a once-over, you tell yourself. Just one more check, to be completely certain that the area is safe again, obviously! In truth it’s so you don’t go mad with boredom, giving yourself something work-related to do since it’s all you’ll worry about anyway. The beastly hounds haven’t returned when you make your way into the valley, and a smile of satisfaction crosses your lips, folding your arms and nodding firmly. Someone’s even cleaned up more of the clockwork mekas around the island, too! You know that your coworkers don’t bother checking sites they’ve left- why would they? Most of the time, there’s no need for it. But you do it anyway, for your peace of mind and to keep your heart from fluttering nervously in your chest, lest you worry yourself into a stupor.

A rustle suddenly sounds from a nearby grove of trees and you whirl around, one hand on the hilt of your blade. You scan the area slowly, eyes landing on a pair of… something sticking out from behind the branches, red and slightly curved, unlike any plant you’ve ever seen. You take a step forward and the red things emerge- they’re horns, attached to the crimson mask-like face of an otherworldly creature, several feet taller than you and covered in black and violet armor. The creature tilts its head, blinking its single crystalline eye, and you’re met with a gaze of clear, hopeful blue, like the sea. It’s monstrous. It’s Abyssal. It’s beautiful. Yet you still move to unsheathe your weapon, ready to defend yourself at any minute. The Abyss is like a poisonous flower, dazzling but deadly- that is what Monsieur Neuvillette tells each and every agent of the Marechaussee Phantom, so that they don’t get swept away by corrupted waves- and the monster’s eye widens, taking a step back. It whines softly and lowers itself towards the ground, towards your height, trying to appear smaller. When you don’t strike first it slowly moves closer, small chirping sounds slipping from its fanged maw, and you stiffen as it reaches for you, grip tightening around your sword.

But it doesn’t attack- no, instead it extends a hand, and in its palm lays a perfect rainbow rose, freshly picked. Your mouth hangs open in shock, gasping as realization seeps into your mind, blooming like a bouquet of flowers speckled with stars. The fingers around your blade loosen and fall, instead moving to delicately grasp the rose by its stem, the horned beast’s claws gently brushing against your skin. The petals of the blossom lightly touch your nose as you breathe in the pleasant scent, the scent you would catch wafting from perfume shops but always refused to indulge in, unsuited for such luxury. A gentle smile spreads across your face, your features relaxing from their stern expression for the first time in months, and through the sound of running water comes a deep, rumbling purr of adoration and delight. Rainbow rose- “I love you.”

[jasmines-library]

Needle and thread.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 19. Prompt: “no anaesthesia.” Fandom: Batfamily

Summary: Dick is forced to carry out a life-saving emergency surgery when you are too far away to reach help before it becomes too late.

Warnings: Impalement, blood, gore, stitching, needles.

Word count: 1k (short but sour, I had to do this quickly sorry.)

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Dick Grayson would never forget your blood curdling scream the moment the rebar punctured your stomach, ripping up skin and muscle as it forced its way through your back.

You had been flung sideways by the villain you had been fighting. The force of his throw has caused you to topple over the side of the scaffolding and sent you plummeting to the ground. Unluckily for you, you happened to land on the scrap metal.

He cried out, cursing as he fought to get to you. It was only supposed to be a simple patrol, but he was outnumbered. Dick fought hard, landing kick after kick and blow after blow with his sticks to reach you. When he landed heavily on his feet beside you, he could already see the puddle of blood below you. It gushed freely from your body. Raw and red and beautiful.

Your mouth was agape, panting against the pain. Your eyebrows upturned behind your mask as your face contorted in agony.

For a moment, he couldn’t move. He was stuck still staring at the blood stained steel. Your muscles clenched around it as you writhed.

“Y/n.” He dropped to his knees beside you when reality hit him like a ton of bricks. “Fuck.”

“Dick…”

His hands hovered over your body; he was too afraid to touch you as if touching you was going to break your fragile body more. He was wide eyed, mind running at a thousand miles a minute. He knew he needed to move you, but the rusty metal bar was the only thing preventing you from bleeding out completely. He had hit the emergency signal on his suit, and he knew help was on the way, but he had no way to gauge how long it would be before they arrived.

“Okay…” he breathed out unsteadily. His hands trembled as they moved around your body, coaxed in your blood. “I have to move you.”

Nodding, you clenched your eyes shut and gritted your teeth. Dick wrapped his hands around yours to haul you off of the bar. You howled, muscles twitching as it was ripped through you again. Your vision blurred as he lay you back down on the ground, applying pressure hard to the wound.

“Come on, Y/n. Just stay with me a little longer. Help is coming.”

“Dick…” you forced out through wet coughs. “You have to do it.”

He shook his head frantically. He hated doing it. It was something that was only supposed to be a last resort. “No. No, I can't do that to you.”

He turned his head, desperate to spot the red and green suits heading his direction, but all he could see for miles were the lights of the city.

“Robin, where are you?” He asked into the coms.

There was a crackle before he replied. “I‘m going as fast as I can, but I’m about 10 minutes out.”

He cursed. You were too far out for him to reach the bat cave and Damian was still too far away. 10 minutes and you would have lost too much blood.

“Do it.” Yo pleased. “Dick. Please.”

He took a deep breath and turned his head away, before pulling out the needle and thread that was kept in the small Medkit you carried in your suit for emergencies. Dick struggled to thread the needle with the way his fingers shook. But after finally sterilising and threading the small tool, he positioned it above the wound. It was still bleeding heavily.

“I’m so sorry.” He muttered as he made the first stitch.

You bucked forwards, contorting at the stabbing against your skin. He tried to be quick, but that did nothing to stop you feeling every stitch as the thread tugged against your skin to close the rift. You had almost blacked out by the time he had rolled you over to stitch up the entry wound. Every second was nothing but torment that seemed to replace the blood you lost.

By the time he had pulled the last stitch closed, you were a whimpering mess. Your face was stained with tears and your hair was a mess. Your whole body felt like one giant bruise; everything ached and your joints felt like a hinge that needed to be oiled.

Dick had tried his hardest to keep you awake, whispering sweet apologies into your hair as he rocked you back and forth in his arms, though you weren’t 100% sure who he was trying to make feel better; you or himself.

Your body had slowly begun to go numb after a while as you waited anstily for Damian to arrive. A chill had begun to set into your bones. By the time he had finally arrived, the pain and your senses had dulled into almost nothing at all.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 18 ⛤ DAY 20 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[blueishspace]

Looped Sun 6

Loop #205

Grian: Scar! How have you done this?

Scar: C'mon Grian, I learnt you can make more potions then normal and I wasn't supposed to try one?

Grian : Not on me Scar! I look ridiculus!

Scar: Nooo! You look cool!

Grian: I'm a kid! I look 8 at most!

Scar: Hmmm... I have an idea!

Grian: I won't like, it will I?

Scar: This is Grain, Grian's son! Taking care of him while G is away!

Grian: I hate you...

Stress: Aww that's so nice of you, I didn't know Grian had a kid though.

Scar: Oh I didn't either! Grian said that he wanted to wait a bit to introduce him!

Grian: I will get revenge.

Stress: Oh! I see, well that make sense. He is quite the grumpy one isn't he?

Scar: Oh yeah! Definitely!

Stress: Oh, sorry but I better go now. Got lunch with Iskall!

Scar: Oh It's no problem! By Stress!

...

Grian: You will regret this, do you know how many awws I have gotten already?

Loop #206

Grian: Revenge. Sweet Revenge!

Scar: Hey, that's not fair! I turned you 8, I look 3!

Grian: Sucks doesn't it? Well now we'll see who gets the last laugh.

Stress: Oh Grian, who is that little cutie? Yours?

Grian: He's Scar's.

Stress: Oh! I didn't know you were a thing!

Grian: What, wait that isn't-

Stress: Isn't it a bit early for a kid though?

Grian: No, you misunderstand-

Stress: Oh damn I need to go! Sorry G, see you later.

Grian: I...

Scar: ... Well that didn't go like you wanted to did it?

Grian: ... I...did she really?.... What the hell just happened?

Loop #209

Pearl was truly enjoying this Empires loop, no demons, no rifts, just regular fun with her friends.

Scott: Hey Pearl, do you think you could help me nake the next looper proof escape room?

And suddenly her loop became a lot of a hell better.

Loop #212

Waking up in an outer plane wasn't part of Grian's plans for this loop but he could deal with it... probably. Checking his surrounded he realized even without checking his loops memories that he was in Limbo... Aka the chaotic neutral dimension aka pure chaos central. This was fine, Grian could live in chaos, he was used to it... Didn't make getting randomly hit by a piece of cheese going at supersonic speed any better.

Scar woke up in a wonderful place, with fresh water and sweet fruit and big big trees, he knew that he would build trees like these as soon as he could because they were oh do gorgeus. Scar didn't ever want to leave such a beautiful and colorful place, ever... The following loop Scar was informed by Grian that that was Arborea, plane of chaotic good and especially known for being extremely addictive.

Pearl hated this actually. To be fair Pandemonium wasn't too bad for a plane if you didn't count the chill...and howling wind...and smell of rot...and demon infestation... Ok it was pretty bad actually but it would have been fine if it wasn't for the alignement. Chaotic neutral she could get but chaotic evil? For real? She knew she could get unhinged as Scarlet Pearl but chaotic evil??? Really world tree? Really?

Scott didn't know what to think, on one of hand Mechanus as the lawful neutral plane wasn't as dangerous as some of the others darker ones... on the other hand this place was just so dull and gray and lifeless he considered jumping in the void. He had tried to convince the people here that a lot of every colour would be as balanced as there not being any but did they listen? No, they didn't. He knew he could get to Baator from there and while he didn't really see himself as lawful evil he was really tempted to do it if it meant feeling something.

Loop #215

Grian: Red King?

Ren: You have finally arrived, what is the meaning of this meeting?

Grian: I have a challenge.

Ren: A challenge? You dare?

Grian: I do. I challenge you to a duel, one on one.

Ren: For what?

Grian: I challenge you for the red crown.

The court all gasped in shock.

Ren: I see... and what if you lose.

Grian: My 3 lives, be it death or servitude, they will be yours.

Ren: ... All 3 you say? I agree.

Grian: Of course.

Ren didn't know how many loops Grian had praticed sword combat for this exact moment and well, he didn't have to know.

Loop #218

It took a lot of effort on all their parts and 3 fails but finally Scott and Grian had managed the most difficult and stressful challenge yet...

Jimmy: I won? I won!

Jimmy had won one of the life games, Scott was tearing up just thinking about it.

Loop #220

CGem!Pearl: Another pearl? A looper?

Pearl: Oh yes, It's nice to meet you, my name is Pearl...hence being a pearl.

CGem!Pearl: Oh! Oh my! Well, this is unexpected!

Steven: Oh that's going to be confusing. You can be uhhh... Red!

Pearl: Hmmm, what about Scarlet?

Steven: Uhhh, Scarlet? That's a type of red right? I like it.

Pearl: Oh, hello there mate.

Amethyst: Heeey... say, you wanna ditch this place and go smash some stuff?

Pearl: Of course I would love that.

Amethyst: Woo, wonder what weapon you have.

Pearl: It's a scythe.

Amethyst: Sick.

Garnet: Hmpfff.

CGem!Pearl: We should form Sardonyx, don't you agree Garne-

Fire Opal: Oh there's no need!

CGem!Pearl: Wait Amethyst did you-

Steven: Giant woman! Wait? Scarlet?

Fire Opal: Oh I'm ready to smash some bits!

Steven: Wooo!

Fire Opal then proceeded to destroy a ship with her kusarigama.

Steven: So... why Scarlet? If you don't mind me asking.

Pearl: Oh It's a reference to that time I went insane in a game because my friends left me.

Steven: ...

Pearl: Sorry, that's a bit weird.

Steven: Oh no! It's not! ... I turned into a giant pink lizard dino thing once I'm not judging.

Loop #225

Scott: Grian, are you crying?

Grian: N-No.

Scott: You are... what happened.

Grian: Just... You know Grumbot?

Scott: The robot you and Mumbo made?

Grian: That's the thing, most of the time he is just a robot...but sometimes he isn't! Sometimes he's my actual child and has real feelings and... The emperors still destroy him and I can't do anything about it.

Scott: G-

Grian: And sometimes I can tell that he has a soul and I can feel as he dies while everyone else laughs at it... And then.

Scott: ...go on.

Grian: Sometimes it happens before the loop and I look to my loop memories and realize the me that was there before also didn't care... I got abandoned by my parents in Japan and that is the same in most loops, the last thing I ever wanted was to become like them!

Scott: Come here Grian, let it out.

Loop #227

Scar had almost finished building the new and improved Scarland. He was so excited to show Grian when a cyan and orange portal appeared. That had to be Scott coming straight from New Life!

Scott: Scar! Just the man I was searching for!

Scar: Me?

Scott: So, you are having problems learning about loop because of your dyslexia?

Scar: ... Yeah?

Scott: I was talking to some older loopers last loops and they showed me this library with book copies written in a way to help with dyslexia so I grabbed a few.

Scar: Wait you got me books?

Scott: Yeah. Decided to start small to see if they would work out. If you need more I can show you the next time we loop there.

Scar: I- wow ... Do you want a free tour of Scarland as a thank you?

Scott: Eh, Sure. Why not?

Loop #229

Scott had been waiting for a supervillain variant for a while actually, ever since Grian and Scar had took over the world that time a while back. But still, out of all possible power he didn't get neither ice, fire, magic or colour related. He got electricity manipulation which was pretty op but he couldn't understand.

Scott: I don't get it, why electricity?

Pearl: Didn't you get smitten by lightning back in Last Life?

Scott: Fuck, is this going to become a thing now. At least I don't explode.

Loop #230

Scott: ...

Pearl: Pf...pftt.

Scott: Don't laugh.

Pearl: What did you say last time? At least I don't explode?

Scott: ...

Scott the creeper wasn't amused in the slightliest.

Loop #233

Scott: So, let's see who is who. I'm Mind.

Grian: Heart, mostly because of the eye connection.

Scott: And the purple.

Grian: And the purple, I know... Pearl?

Pearl: Soul! Because of the red probably. I get to have a scythe instead of a trident so that's fine.

Scott: Huh... Then, what about The Whole? Is Scar taking his place?

Pearl: Let me check... hmm, yep.

Scott: One time you tried to sing about...I don't know but it was nothing fucking new-

Pearl: Wrong song!

Scott: What?

Pearl: Storm and a spring is later, we need to do Mucka Blucka right now.

Grian: ~I've been sleeping in a cardboard box spending every dollar on a losing lot-

Pearl: That's The Bidding... You know what fuck this, if you are going to do what you want then I'm skipping to me splitting the ground.

Grian: Wait no no, we are way to early to do the Mind electric... Scar Isn't going to be able to handle it right now.

Scott: And if he does he won't be very happy with us.

Pearl: Alright, let's try again then.

Loop #237

The loop had started normal, Grian should have known it wouldn't last forever but waking up to find all the ground in the world to be replaced by ice.

Grian: How?

Pearl: I am still a goddess of chaos and this specific loop's code is extremely simple to manipulate.

Grian: ... But why?

Pearl: Why not?

Loop #238

Pearl: How dare you?

Grian: What? I didn't do anything.

Pearl: Why did you rotate my base back, do you know how much it took to rotate the first time around?

Grian: Guess you'll have to turn it again!

Loop #239

Grian: You are evil.

Pearl: Oh c'mon, just giving you some encouragement to make a better storage system.

Grian: B-but... why furbies? Why?

Pearl: Horrific little things aren't they? Was talking with Tango about giving them spider legs.

Grian: Why are you like this?

Loop #240

Pearl: You did what?

Grian: Moved your storage ststem...to the moon.

Pearl: You mean the moon that is currently crashing into the world?

Grian: ... Maybe?

Pearl: I see how it is, did you know Tango actually made me some spider furbies before the end of the loop?

Grian: Wait... no.

Pearl: Be prepared. They are coming. You can run but you can't hide.

Loop #245

Scott: You know, if you take like three or four loops in which you learn redstone you would probably be able to surpass Mumbo.

Grian: I would wouldn't I? .... Hmmm...

Loop #250

Mumbo: H-how- Mate? How have you done this?

Grian: It's really quite simple really.

Mumbo: That's- That's my line.

Grian: Mine now.

Loop #251

It was the start of a brand new loop, this one started quite late already in season 10. Grian was sleeping soundly when he was woken up by a frantic sounding Mumbo.

Mumbo: Grian, I had an horrible nightmare.

Grian: Uh huh?

Mumbo: You built a super compact spaceship and I couldn't understand and you used my "It's quite simple" line against me! It was horrible!

Grian: ... Wait.

Loop #252

Mumbo: I-it wasn't a prank?

Grian: Nope.

Scar: Mumbo!!?! You are looping!?

Pearl: Welcome to the loops mate?

Scott: Good luck, you'll need it.

Prev Next First

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Survivor request is "Fall" for @etoiline

It finds Cal in the quiet, in the stillness, in the emptiness, when sleep refuses him.

Darkness.

The fall. His fall. It happened so easily.

(No, it didn’t.)

He gave into the darkness without a fight.

(No, you didn’t.)

That rage. That power. He misses it.

(Do you?)

Sighing, Cal rolls out of bed and heads out into the Koboh night. BD doesn’t let him go alone. No one stops them – everyone’s used to Cal’s nighttime wanderings by now – but BD will never let him wander off alone. The Outpost is quieter by night, only the hardiest (or most destitute) prospectors heading out to work. He decides to head for the forest. The quiet trees and waterfalls usually soothe his whirring mind.

His feet take him across Swindlers Wash and into the forest, head buzzing with self-recriminations as he heads into the forest. He reaches the Basalt Rift, distracted by the guilty part of him that doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in hiding, who loves the variety of Koboh and the wider galaxy…

He doesn’t hear the battle droid until it’s on him, and while he does take it down before it shoots him in the head, his balance is all off, and he tips backward, plummeting off a cliff and falling, down, down, down. The Force howls, and he flips in time to hit a pool of water feet first. Deep, deep under the water, it takes Cal’s scrambled head a few seconds to catch up. He kicks his way back to the surface, fighting the current. When he breaks through, he’s already a long way from the cliff he fell off.

“BD?!”

A slightly waterlogged warble comes from Cal’s back. A sob of relief escapes him, and he nods in agreement when BD tells him to find somewhere to climb out of the river as soon as he can.

By the time Cal’s on dry land again, he’s soaked but warm, the Koboh night far from cold. He’s unhurt, although his ego’s taken a good hit. Distracted. Reckless. When will he learn?

BD beeps for Cal’s attention. “I’m okay. Guess I need to find a better coping skill.”

Talking. He could try talking.

Cal reaches over, gives BD a head pat. “I know. I just don’t know where to start.”

BD does, because he knows Cal is a good person. How could he not be, when he’s still so torn up over everything that happened, including using the dark side. A bad person wouldn’t care like Cal does.

“Cere always told me every Jedi faces the dark side. It was stupid of me to think I wouldn’t, that I’d be too good for that.” Cal sighs, and not because he’s not entirely sure where he is and how long it will take to get back to the Outpost. “I’m going to carry it for the rest of my life.” Everyone has something to carry. He thought he was at his limit after Cere and Master Cordova died.

Turns out there’s more beneath rock bottom.

Hopping onto Cal’s head, flashlight shining, BD suggests that if Cal wants to use up all his energy on worrying about it, maybe next time he could do it in the garden, instead of taking a dive off a cliff?

Cal chuckles. “I’m happy to skip the cliff diving.” He glances up, gauges the distance. “Can’t believe I didn’t break anything. Maybe we don’t tell anyone about this?”

BD is noncommittal. He needs blackmail material.

“I don’t have to give you oil baths.”

Cal’s secret is safe with BD.

By the time they return to the Outpost, dawn is breaking and Greez waits for them outside Pyloon’s with a hot cup of caf and the medkit. He hands over the caf, gives Cal a good looking over, then nods, taking the unopened medkit inside with them.

“You figure out what you needed to figure out?” Greez asks as they walk into the bar.

“Kinda?”

“Try to sound a little less uncertain.”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, awe-inspiring, kid. Anyway, there’s some weeds in the garden and Pili wants your help with them. Says you’re the best one to deal with the Spikers.”

“Spikers, you got it.”

“Right, right, and by the time you’re done with the weeding, it’ll probably be time to take a nap.”

Cal smiles. “I’ll give it a go.”

[lineffability]

style, flair, and a head of red hair – she’s the nanny?!

oneshot. 5k. human au. the story of how crowley becomes a nanny. no, not that one. the other one. the fine type. this fic was inspired by @densewentz and this stunning piece of The Nanny/Crowley art that blew my socks clean off. i had to write it.

She is entirely perfect and utterly boring.

Aziraphale Edenson, ever the picture of perfect pleasantry, has recited three consecutive poems in his mind while she's been speaking, and he could almost swear one of them had been the entirety of Ginsburg's Howl. He can't be certain, as he's drifted. In front of him, the Mary Poppins palimpsest is finishing her impassioned speech that had begun somewhere in her childhood only to end, in a satisfying narrative conclusion, he is sure, in the childhood of Warlock, his unexpected teenage protegé, and somehow between those two childhoods she had also wedged in his, Aziraphale's, childhood too, though he isn't sure quite how that is possible. It seems she has done her research rather thoroughly. 

It is not polite to interrupt people, so Aziraphale does not. He smiles, he nods at the right moments, and he offers more tea, and then he ushers her to the front door with perfect manners only to say, in one last moment of mental impasse, "Well, thank you so very much, Mrs Poppins, I will be sure to contact you by the end of the week. It has been so very lovely to meet you."

It only occurs to him half an hour later why her smile had faltered, and he smacks his hand to his forehead, producing a noise that sounds very much like oh, bugger. 

A string of interviews follow this initial one, and after a fortnight, Aziraphale gives up. It’s not that the applicants are unsuited: rather the opposite, their credentials battle each other for excellence: if one has twenty years of experience in royal nanny service, the next will present a doctoral degree in Nannyology straight from Harvard. After all, Villa Eden is not only a beautiful and prestigious estate in the nicest part of London, but he offers a pay check that the best paid nanny in the world might have envied, promptly losing her her title. An honest wage for honest work, he thinks, and he certainly does not know what to do with a twelve year old boy. So if someone does, money shall not be the issue. 

The thing is: hiring a nanny is… it’s like selling books. Aziraphale is selfish. Aziraphale does not want to hire a nanny. He does not want to share his space, his routines, his library, his home. He can do it for Warlock, for a few months, because it is the right thing to do. He does not love it. But he likes the kid enough. Especially because his parents… well, they don’t. Not properly, not like they should, and that is enough for Aziraphale to feel a bristling sense of injustice, and a burning desire to bestow the boy with a love that might not live up to the parental ideal, but make him feel safe and liked and cared for, at least. 

So maybe he has to hire the Mary Poppins nanny, after all, to help him realize his wish, to support him in his quest, to breach the friendly but unbreachable rift between the old, reclusive neighbor and the bright, young boy that has been parked here by his parents, like a pet, while they are away for travel for half a year. Aziraphale huffs. 

He stares out the window of his conservatory, but can’t make out the expanse of his glorious estate. That’s because it is cloudy and gray and rainy and grim, and also winter, which might have something to do with it. Darkness has settled over the hill and his mansion like a heavy blanket. His clock chimed five not a minute ago, and yet it is already pitch-dark. Aziraphale likes winter. It grants you more alone time that needs not be justified as much as during other seasons. The weather today suits his mood. With a grim face, he makes up his mind to hire the nanny. 

In a dramatic last minute coincidence not at all necessitated by the narrative, the doorbell rings precisely in the moment Aziraphale starts to dial the number on the resumé.  

Aziraphale puts the receiver back down. He walks to the main entrance. 

(He does not believe in servants: for the same reason that he does not believe in nannies.)

When he opens the door, it takes him a moment to make sense of the picture of personified misery he is presented with. 

“Cosmetics,” the picture of misery says. 

“Excuse me?”

[continue reading]

[shimmeringembers]

I chained a bunch of modded regions together, so now my brother (playing Drone Master) and I (playing Saint) have been exploring! The pup’s name is Candle and we picked him up right before entering Bioengineering Center :D

The current region chain is:

Outskirts ➡️ Bioengineering Center ➡️ Garbage Wastes ➡️ Badlands ➡️ The Mast ➡️ Scorched District ➡️ Pilgrims Ascent ➡️ Far Shore ➡️ Moss Fields ➡️ Chasing Wind ➡️ back to Moss then Far Shore ➡️ Subterranean ➡️ Howling Rift ➡️ Shaded Citadel

So far, we’re at The Mast! I can see why it’s so popular, it’s been really fun to travel through

[chronically-ghosted]

Bite Me

rating: T

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 1258

summary: before a Halloween party, you and Dieter show off your “communal” costumes.

warnings: bad jokes, some sexy make outs, this is just fluff and two idiots in love, this is not kinktober by any stretch of the imagination

a/n: i really wanted to get something Halloween-ish out before spooky season is over and when I saw that text post go around, I couldn’t not think of Dieter. I apologize deeply to Dan Harmon and the rest of the cast of Community for so shamelessly rifting, and honestly, if you haven’t watched Community, do yourself a favor and get on it. Like, now. Reader’s costume comes from Abed’s costume in season 1 and Dieter dresses like Troy in season 2.

On a different note, my computer’s been acting up so I wrote and posted this on my iPad. So if there’s funky formatting or anything, I apologize!

Happy Halloween!

🤍Masterlist

The tip of your nose itches from where the cheap cotton mask dangles from over your forehead. You adjust yourself on the bed, only to catch the cape under your butt and accidentally choke yourself. Scowling, you lift your hips and twist and yank, opting to toss the cape over your thigh like a sexy blanket. Finally in a good position, you lay down, elbow propping up your head, and you tug at the eyeholes of the mask to get the lycra out of your eyelashes.

“Babe, are you almost ready?” You call out, your gaze fixated on the walk-in closet where your boyfriend disappeared thirty minutes ago. Arguably you had the much more elaborate costume and you still beat him getting dressed. He had yet to see the culmination of two weeks of sewing, stuffing (because of course you had to include the fake muscles), and painting, and you fully intended to seduce him with your TV-accurate recreation of a costume from a truly iconic episode. “Dee, we’re gonna be late.”

“Yeah, and you’re gonna see it’s worth every minute,” came his cryptic reply. You roll your eyes. Although, you should hardly be surprised at his flair for the dramatics. “Alright, feast your eyes, babe.”

Dieter steps out of the closet, make-up brush and tanning powder in hand, grinning from ear to ear. The white toilet guard has been cut to (slightly) resemble a collar — obviously including the word “Dracula” just in case anyone could possibly miss the obvious reference. The toilet paper bracelets are taped down to prevent any further unraveling, but you inwardly cringe at what happened to the rest of the no-doubt wasted toilet paper.

His dark jeans are slung low on his hips, the black belt undone preemptively, but it’s the make up job that really sealed the deal. While having had his ass whooped off the couch for a new role has slimmed his waist, Dieter could hardly hope to obtain Troy-Barnes-level of abs.

So he drew them on himself.

“I gotta call Silvia,” he grins manically, twisting and showing you just how “cut” he is from every angle. “She’s gonna be so proud.”

Referring to his make-up stylist and the hour-long make-up tutorial where he paid her to show him the basics of contours and shading, Dieter seems thrilled to have been finally able to put his knowledge to use.

“You look fucking sexy, babe,” you tell him, sneaker rubbing a suggestive circle on the comforter.

“That’s because I’m a sexy dracula.” He winks with his tongue out and then his eyes snap open. “Oh, fuck, forgot something.”

He sprints back into the closet — you hear something fall over — and he returns, mouth full of . . . something . . .

Dieter spreads his lips and drool slides out the corner of his mouth to reveal off-white, plastic vampire fangs.

“Jush in cath no one geths it.”

You nod, sagely, while trying to fight off a howl of laughter. He slips the dripping teeth out of his mouth and wipes his lips with the back of his arm.

“Show me yours!”

Grinning, you leap up onto your knees, knuckles against your waist in your best superhero pose.

“Crime spits and dances on the grave of justice, to the hot beats and infectious rhythms of all that is wrong,” you quote, your voice deep and gravely. “The night beckons. Its black fingers curl and uncurl going like, ‘hey, come here.’”

“Oh my god, baby, use that voice the next time you peg me.” Dieter’s eyes flutter as he stumbles to the edge of the bed, grabbing your waist and pulling you close. You giggle, trying very carefully not to squish the “collar”.

Dieter taps your too-long bat ears with his palm. “You did such a good fucking job with this. Are you sure you still wanna direct? You could go into costuming.”

You wrinkle your nose. “And develop arthritis before I get my AARP card? No, thank you. My hands and wrists are still sore from all the sewing.”

“Hopefully not too sore.” Dieter raises an eyebrow at you, his hands under your cape and investigating your ass in spandex.

“I’m not getting cum on this black outfit—,”

His mouth bites into yours, cutting you off, as he chuckles. His roving hands drop low on your hips, around your ass, then to the back of your thighs. He squeezes and you both inhale.

“I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off you.”

You bite your lip, glancing at the clock over your shoulder. If you left now, you’d get to the party on time, a first for anyone in a fifteen-foot radius of Dieter Bravo, the man whom needs a thirty minute head start for any event—

His lips press warmly into the arch of your neck, teasing up to your jaw, the mask guarding the soft skin below your earlobe that he knows turns you to putty in his hands. His hands, satisfied with their below-the-waist groping, map the curl of your spine, before smoothing over your ribs. He rubs the curve of your breasts with his thumbs and bites gently into the curve of your neck.

“Baby, please tell me this is not a one-piece suit.”

“But we’re going to be late.” Your voice is already a whine, arousal sinking in between your legs. Vaguely, you hope his “abs” haven’t rubbed off on your hips.

“I’m always late,” he murmurs distractedly as his fingers seek out a seam. Dieter Bravo has been, and never will be, above literally tearing your clothes apart to get to what he needs. “It’s bad luck to change tradition.”

His grip more insistent, you fear for the livelihood of your costume so you grab his hand and bring it to a zipper high on your back.

“There’s a clasp—,”

He pulls back, brown eyes heated and sweet. “Yeah? You’re gonna let me fuck you, pretty girl?”

“You’ve made a very compelling case.” You take him by the face and pull him into your mouth, tongue licking his bottom lip at first brush, as he tugs the zipper down your back. “Besides, we’re doing all the Troy and Abed shippers out there a favor right now.”

Dieter’s weight shifts forward as he crawls up the bed, cradling you to his chest with one arm as he lays you down between the pillows, his mouth sucking at yours and settles himself between your legs.

“So you’re saying you want to put this on the internet? You’re so hot,” he breathes on a long inhale.

“I’m saying we’re doing our due diligence to the characters.” He finally pushes that itchy mask over your head and you can feel the static pluck at your hair.

Dieter pauses, blinking, eyes wide and awe-struck.

And then he smiles.

“You make a sexy fucking Batman, you know that?”

With a grin, you rub your fingers against the thin collar.

“You make a pretty good sexy Dracula yourself.” You make a contemplative face. “Batman and Dracula. Bats fucking. There’s gotta be a porno for that.”

Dieter’s grin widens before dipping his head to kiss you again, hips slowly rolling into yours.

Oh yeah, you’re going to be very late to the party.

You lift your shoulder to peel your costume down when Dieter leans back into his knees and pulls something out of his back pocket.

It’s those hideous teeth.

He pops them into his mouth, immediately drooling again.

“The cheap vampire fangth thay ON during thex.”

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Jesus – fuck!” Keith yanks down on the yoke with all his might, making their little pod rear back, missing the gigantic asteroid by mere inches. He watches with wide eyes as the asteroid continues rocketing by, acutely aware that he nearly smashed the pod in everyone in it.

There’s a tense, speechless silence in the pod for a moment, everyone aware of how close they were to becoming Actual Space Debris, before Romelle speaks up.

Because of course it was Romelle.

“Maybe focus on keeping us not dead and daydream about gay reunions later,” she says drily, and Keith bites back a scathing response, because he realises he has absolutely no leg to stand on, there.

“My bad,” he says instead. Romelle rolls her eyes fondly before decking him lightly on the shoulder.

Well, it would be lightly, were she not an Altean. But she is, and Keith has to tense every muscle in his body to keep from crying out in agony like a loser.

“Wait, no, not your bad,” Krolia says.

Romelle blinks at her. “Okay, I get he’s your son and all, but it very much was his bad.”

“No, I got a signal for a second!”

Keith whips around, staring at his mother with wide eyes. “You got signal? Seriously?”

“Yes! I think it was the magnetic flare from the asteroid! Get close to it again, I might be able to hold the signal long enough to broadcast!”

Keith does not waste a moment. He turns the pod around at lightning speed, pushing it as fast as it will go to catch up to the asteroid, carefully avoiding its surrounding debris, which is a lot harder than it looks, and causes a significant amount of turbulence. Which, of course, sets Kosmo off, howling at the windows and scratching at anything he can reach, on top of the deafening grinding sound of surrounding space rocks smashing into each other at high speeds, and the crackling of the comms they are desperately trying to make work.

“Anything?” Keith yells over the chaotic noise of Every Sound At Once.

“Yes! The signal is getting stronger! Once I can get it to connect, it should maintain itself, so keep close just a little longer!”

Keith grits his teeth, wrapping both hands around the yoke and ignoring the voice in his head – that sounds suspiciously like Lance – that makes a dirty joke about the position. He just focuses as hard as he can, trying to keep as close to the asteroid as he can without smashing the ship into it or getting smashed by all the debris travelling at several hundred miles an hour.

“Closer!” Krolia shouts.

Keith resists the urge to tell her that he’s closer to the asteroid right now than he’s ever been to any parental figure in his life, because that would be uncalled for and also rude and he is a Mature Adult, now.

He nudges them the slightest smidge closer, praying to the universe at large that the thrusters don’t give out, and finally Krolia shouts in success.

“I got it! I got Voltron! Pull back!”

With great relief, Keith does, putting as much distance between them and immediate mortal peril as he can. Once the asteroid is far enough away that Keith no longer feels his heart attempting to pound clean through his chest, he slumps over the controls, repeatedly reminding himself that this is, at the very least, better than the goddamn motherfucking bitch-ass space rift.

(Which is, honestly, a very low bar. Contracting E. coli from getting a swirly would be better than the space rift. But still. Small victories, et cetera, et cetera.)

“Um, hi?” comes a voice Keith hasn’t heard in two fucking years, and he almost cries in relief.

Well, not almost. There are tears streaming down his face. But he feels he’s pretty justified, so it’s whatever.

“Pidge!” he calls, ditching the pilot’s seat and fully running over to where Krolia sits, radio holoscreen up and working.

His old teammate gapes at him. “Keith?!”

Keith grins, soft and happy. “Hey, man. I missed you.”

She stares at him in silence, for several minutes. Keith lets her gather herself, even though the silence is getting real awkward real fast.

“Why do you look jacked as hell?” is what Pidge decides on, and God, it’s been so long since he’s heard a dumbass remark that’s definitely a poorly disguised roast, somehow. It feels like home.

“Because I am jacked as hell. I spent two years in Actual Hell –”

Romelle glares at him. “Quit talking shit about my actual place of residence –”

“Your place of residence imprisoned me for two fucking years I will talk all the shit I want –”

“I can beat you up, Kogane, try me –”

“I can handle a beating and still run my mouth, M’lyoy, so I will try you –”

“Children!” Krolia barks, and they both snap their mouths shut so hard there’s an audible click. “We have desperate, time-sensitive information. You have been bickering for three straight days. Can it, or so help me, I will turn this ship around.

“Goddamn, Kogane,” Pidge says after a moment, “someone just got told off. What, did you fuck off and find your mother or something?”

Keith blinks. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“How did I know that – I was joking, dude, fuck! Is that actually your mother?”

“I am,” Krolia says. “You must be Pidge. The short one who cusses often.”

Keith freezes. “Ma,” he hisses, “why would you tell her I said that?”

“Three straight days,” she deadpans, completely uncaring.

Pidge glares at him. “I’ll admit I missed you, you bitch, but please know that you are so, so fucking lucky you are not within bayard distance.”

“Noted,” Keith says weakly.

“I can smack him for you, if you like,” Romelle offers, not even attempting to hide a smirk.

“Thank you, strange Altean, whose existence baffles me beyond comprehension,” Pidge says.

Romelle attempts to do as promised, but Keith jerks out of the way at the last second, and then scrambles over to Krolia’s other side to avoid any further assault.

“Coward,” she and Pidge say at the same time.

Man, having little sisters is annoying. Almost as annoying as having an older brother. Keith wishes he was back to being an only child.

(Not really.)

“Can we please get back on task,” Keith says, which is hilarious coming from him, but whatever.

“Right,” Pidge says, face turning serious. “What the hell is going on?”

“First of all, where’s everyone else?”

“Doing other shit,” Pidge says, “I’m on monitoring duty. Coran and Hunk are reworking the control panel for the accelerators, Shiro’s meditating, Allura and Lotor are on their Oriande mission, and Lance is – actually, I have no idea what Lance is doing, but he’s on the castle somewhere. Probably.”

At the mention of Lotor, everyone’s face goes ashen, playful atmosphere completely dissipating.

“Fuck,” Keith says.

Pidge, ever the problem-solver, looks resigned. “It’s Lotor, isn’t it,” she says, and it’s not really a question.

“Yes,” Romelle agrees softly. “He’s a monster. He’s using my people as batteries, to drain our quintessence, to rule worse than his father ever did.”

“And we’ve just led him by the hand to the one place that will make him unstoppable,” Pidge summarizes, looking absolutely miserable.

“Unfortunately.”

“I don’t suppose you have a plan?”

“We don’t…not have a plan,” Keith says. “We’ll have the element of surprise, so long as we get back to the castle before he does, and that’s got to count for something. We’ll send you our coords, and we’ll try to meet as quickly as possible? It might be easier to plan with the whole team present.”

“Sounds good,” Pidge says, immediately pulling up a few dozen screens and schematics. Krolia quickly types something on her keypad, and Keith watches as it pings over to Pidge. “Oh, hey, we’re actually not that far away. Maybe a couple hours, if we gun it towards you? And Allura – God, I hope she’s okay – won’t be back until the end of the day, so that timing works out. I’ll tell Coran we need to get moving and fast.”

“Thank you, Pidge,” Krolia says.

“No problem, Ms. Keith’s Hot Mom.”

Keith sighs. Romelle giggles. Krolia looks amused.

“I forgot how annoying you are,” he mutters. He doesn’t need to look to know Pidge is sticking her tongue out at him, but looks anyway, just to prove himself right.

“Well, I look forward to reminding you, booger-brain.”

Keith opens his mouth with the full intention of calling her a roach-face, but then remembers that he is a Mature Adult, and decides he will instead graffitti it on her workspace as soon as he gets back, like a real man.

“Bye, Pidge,” he says, and reaches forward to swipe through the holoscreen.

“Hey, wait! Don’t hang up yet!”

Keith pauses, looking at her expectantly. “Yeah?”

The playful, teasing expression that came back for a moment when they were arguing has melted from her face, and she looks serious again. Nervous, even. “Um, something… happened, while you were gone,” she starts, and Keith immediately jumps to the worst possible conclusion.

“What happened to Lance? Is he okay? Is he hurt?” he asks in a panic.

“He is not dead and also not injured or maimed or anything,” Pidge says, which is very different to ‘why, of course not, Keith, Lance is safe and happy and healthy’.

“Spit it out, Pidge,” he orders in his Patented Black Paladin Voice.

“I can’t really explain it. I’m just gonna – I’m gonna send you a link, and you’re going to watch the whole thing and not tell Lance I sent it to you, okay?”

Keith swallows roughly. “Just tell me what happened, Pidge.”

“Okay, Keith?” she repeats, and Keith knows he’s not going to get anything else out of her.

“Okay. Fine. Send it to me.”

“It’s sent,” she says, just as a notification pops up on the receiver. “Um, you can hang up now. That’s all I had to say.”

Keith doesn’t even say goodbye. The only thing he can focus on is that receiver. In the background, he can vaguely hear Romelle and Krolia ending the call, but all his attention is on the little notification – a link, like Pidge said. He picks the receiver up carefully, and walks carefully over to his bunk in the back.

“I guess I’m driving!” Romelle says cheerily, trying to goad him into a playful argument (her… interesting piloting skills having been the subject of their bickering on numerous occasions) but Keith barely even hears her. He clicks on the link, space youtube quickly taking up the screen.

In hindsight, Keith wishes he’d waited to watch, waited for Krolia and Romelle to fall asleep, or even dug around for a pair of headphones, or something. Anything instead of playing what feels like a private message – even though this is clearly something that was broadcasted to the universe at large – to the pod at large.

Hindsight is 20/20.

Instead, he watches with wide, horrified eyes as he witnesses the direct result his leaving had on his best friend.

I'm sorry but I gotta go

That’s what he said to me, as he let me go, he left me alone

Keith recognises those words. He fucking – those are his words. The thing is – the thing is, that contrary to what he knows everyone else thinks, Keith didn’t leave for the Blades after a few days of private introspection.

He talked to Lance – to his right hand – about the issue for months. They made the decision together. Lance knew every feeling, every need running through Keith’s brain, and consequently, Keith knew every thoughtrunning through Lance’s.

[starkskeep]

When the Dragon Howls (6)

When the Dragon Howls Chapter Six

Characters - Cregan Stark x OC (Maera Velaryon), Aegon II Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen

Summary - Maera Velaryon feels consumed by the obsessive clutches of her uncles. A wolf from Winterfell could potentially be the one strong enough to confront the dragons.

Word Count - 2,956

Warnings - 18+ Minors DNI. Typical Targaryen relationships.

A/N - I'm testing out a different format for the post. Let me know if you like it or if you want the previous format. I feel like this makes the dialogue more organized.

Previous Part Next Part

The next few days were relatively uneventful. The tourney came and went without any deaths, just a few injuries. Maera was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she would not be able to describe those days if anyone were to ask her.  It was the final night of festivities for the anniversary of her grandsire’s reign. Maera knew she had to make an appearance and interact with everyone. It was her duty as a princess of the realm yet she was having trouble focusing on anything except her fight with Aemond and the comfort Cregan had provided her. Just thinking of how kind, how sweet, how understanding he was in the Godswood places a smile on her face that is hard to wipe away. 

Maera was finishing readying herself for the feast that night when her mother entered her chambers. Rhaenyra dismissed Maera’s maids, wanting to talk to her daughter in private. The young princess watched her mother’s reflection in her dressing table’s mirror as Rhaenyra approached. “You did not need to dismiss my maids. My hair is not yet done.” Maera said with a slight pout.

Rhaenyra smiled at her daughter. She took the brush that was resting on the dressing table and began to run it through her daughter's hair. Moments like this made Rhaenyra miss her mother even more. She knew that Aemma would have loved Maera as much as Viserys does. Her daughter deserved to have her grandmother, her true grandmother here. If Aemma hadn’t passed and Alicent hadn’t married Rhaenyra’s father, Rhaenyra wouldn’t have had to worry about her half-brothers chasing after Maera. She had heard about the altercation between her daughter and Aemond. Rhaenyra was furious. Daemon even more so. It took a lot of yelling, pleading, and bribery in order to keep Daemon in their chambers when the news reached them. All he wanted to do was take Aemond’s other eye and the boy’s hands. Deep down, Rhaenyra had wanted her husband to go after the boy. It was getting harder and harder to protect Maera. She had wanted to let her daughter choose her own husband, something that Rhaenyra had not been graced with for her first marriage, but Rhaenyra now feared that Aemond would do something drastic in order to make Maera his wife. It also wasn’t impossible that her father could be convinced to marry Aemond to Maera in order to settle the rift between her and Alicent. Rhaenyra wouldn’t let that be her daughter’s fate. She caught Maera’s eye in the mirror. “I wanted to speak with you. I heard about what happened in the Godswood. Why did you not come to me as soon as it happened?”

Maera looked down as she played with her fingers. A bit ashamed, she couldn’t look at her mother as she formulated a response to Rhaenyra’s question. “I did not feel the situation warranted your involvement. Aemond has not bothered me since then. I believe it was just empty threats. You have enough to worry about while we are in the Red Keep. Handling this myself meant that you could relax.”

Rhaenyra’s face softened. Her daughter truly had her mother’s heart. “My sweet girl,” Rhaenyra murmured as she kissed the top of Maera’s head. “I always want to know everything that happens to you: good or bad. I am your mother and as your mother, it is my duty to worry about you. I will take care of everything that you need. I will always help you, even when you do not wish for my help. Your entire family is here for you. In fact, Daemon had to be held back so that he wouldn’t kill Aemond. As much as I detest the boy, I do not want Daemon to become a kinslayer.”

A smile slowly spreads across Maera’s face. Knowing that her mother is not angry at her for not immediately revealing what happened in the Godswood is comforting. The fact that Daemon was so willing to come to her defense warms her heart as well. She decides to reveal more to Rhaenyra. “I believed that I didn’t need your help because someone already had.”

Her mother stops braiding Maera’s hair due to her surprise. She had not been told of anyone coming to her daughter’s aid. Rhaenyra needs to know who it was. They deserve a reward. Not many people would stand against the son of the king, even if it was for a princess. “Oh? Who was this savior?” Rhaenyra had a good idea of who would be brave enough to do so.

“Lord Cregan Stark was entering the Godswood in order to pray to the gods when he came across Aemond and I arguing. He stepped in and Aemond left. Then he offered to walk me to my chambers. I didn’t want to be alone in case Aemond came to see me. Instead, Lord Cregan kept me company. He told me many stories about the North. Many of which I had never read before in books.”

Maera may not have noticed that she was smiling as she spoke but Rhaenyra certainly did. Maybe this was the answer to the problem of Aemond. If Rhaenyra could secure a betrothal between Maera and Cregan, her daughter would be safe from Rhaenyra’s younger brother. She just had to be careful of how she addressed this. Being too blunt may startle Maera or lead her to believe that her mother was teasing her. “It sounds like you were lucky that Lord Stark showed up. Not many noblemen would interrupt an argument between two members of the royal family for fear of losing their heads. He must have become a friend of yours during his time spent in the Red Keep if he stepped in. Your brothers speak highly of his demeanor and skill when they are in the training yard together. It seems that Lord Stark is quite different from the stories that I have heard.”

“I think he is much more friendly than the rumors make him out to be. He was so attentive in the Godswood. Never has a nobleman been more concerned with my well-being than he was. I very much want my future husband to be like him.”

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes ducking her head so that Maera cannot see her do so. Her daughter seems to be quite oblivious to the fact that Cregan Stark is interested. Rhaenyra decides that she needs to plant the seed of thought in Maera’s mind. “Lord Stark is unmarried. He would be a good choice for a husband. A strong man from a noble house in the largest region of the Seven Kingdoms. Quite handsome as well. I approve of the match. Have you thought of him as a potential partner? Spend time with him at the feast. Share a couple dances. Your heart will know if you can grow to love him as a husband” She places the finishing touches on the braids in her daughter's hair and takes Maera's hand. "Come. It is time to make our way to the Great Hall. Daemon and the boys will join us there."

Maera was looking out across the hall from her seat at the high table. Everything around her was luxuriously decorated. The mood was jovial. The entirety of the Seven Kingdom’s nobility was gathered to celebrate. She had shared a few dances with her brothers and Daemon. Even her grandsire had gathered enough energy to share a dance with her. She had enjoyed it as he twirled her around and shared stories of her mother’s childhood.

At the moment, Maera was resting after Luke had trampled her feet on the last dance. She watched as he danced with Rhaena and sent a silent prayer to the gods that her feet fared much better. Maera made a mental note to discuss dancing lessons for the boy once her family returned to Dragonstone. She pulled away from watching her brother as Baela put her hand on Maera’s arm in order to draw her attention. Baela nods her head in the direction of where most of the Northmen sat. “Lord Stark has been watching you all night.”

When Maera looked in the direction that Baela had nodded to, sure enough, Cregan Stark had his eyes on her. Maera smiled and raised her glass to Cregan from across the hall. If he had caught her and Baela whispering about him, she would try to cover it up in greeting. The man cocked his head and raised his glass in response, a smirk gracing his lips. The words of her mother from earlier this evening played over and over in Maera’s head. She had thought Lord Cregan to be unattainable for whatever reason; never actually evaluating him as a potential match and instead comparing her suitors to him. Cregan stood from his seat after he finished his silent toast to Maera and made his way over to the high table. She turned to Baela with wide eyes. “Is he really coming this way?”

Baela snorted in amusement. “I don’t believe you to be blind Maera. Of course, he is coming this way. Lord Stark is the only man who has made his way up to you this evening. Not with the stares father and Aemond have been sending those who so much as look in your direction. It seems that the wolf is immune.”

Before Maera can respond, she looks up to see that Cregan has made his way up to them. She greets him. “Lord Cregan. Are you enjoying the feast?”

“Very much so, my lady. It could only be better if I had someone to dance with.”

“I’m sure that many ladies would happily dance with you if you were to ask them.”

Cregan smiles. “Yet you are the only one I want. Will you do me the honor of sharing a dance with me?”

Maera agrees with Baela. Cregan Stark is much too similar to a wolf. The way he was able to stalk his prey and corner her was lupine in nature. Regardless of his uncanny similarities to the sigil of his house, Maera agrees to share a dance with him. She makes her way around the high table and takes Cregan’s offered hand. He leads her into the center of the hall and they disappear into the throng of dancers. 

They spend their first dance in compatible silence. By the second dance, Cregan speaks up. “My lady, you are radiant tonight. I find it hard not to fall to my knees at the mere sight of you.”

Maera’s heart flutters at the compliment. The way Cregan compliments her as he stares into her eyes, rather than let himself rake them up and down her body as other lords are prone to do make Maera feel the sincerity of his words.  It gives her the confidence to truly pursue him. She has seen how other noblewomen tease the men that chase after them, so she decides to try to emulate their actions. “That would be quite improper. Though I would have no objections, I believe that the rest of my grandsire’s guests may be quite appalled. You would give credence to their rumors of northern savagery.”

Cregan lets out a loud burst of laughter, drawing the attention of the surrounding couples. He brushes away their looks of disturbance. The young lord smiles down at Maera and teasingly squeezes her hip. “It seems that you do know how to have fun. I was worried that you were wrapped up in courtly etiquette. Your brothers had shared stories about you not always being the most proper noblewoman with me but I had yet to see for myself, my lady. I like it.”

“You asked my brothers about me? I shudder to think of the stories they shared.”

“You had captured my attention. I wanted to know more about you.”

“You could have just asked me.”

“Ah, but when has there been a good moment for me to get you alone. I wouldn’t want our conversation to have been interrupted. I have noticed during my short time here that both of your uncles have the uncanny ability to separate you from any man that you are around.”

This time Maera is the one smirking. “You believe that you are any different?”

“My lady, I know that I am different. I will not be deterred from taking what I want.”

“Maera. If I am what you want then you should at least be calling me by my name.”

“Very well, Maera. If I am allowed to call you by your name then you should call me by mine.” Cregan pulled Maera closer to him.

“Cregan!” Shrieked Maera in surprise.

“That's it. Much better than being called ‘my lord’”.

Distracted by their conversation, Maera had not noticed that their dance had ended nor had she noticed that Cregan had maneuvered them to the doors that led out to the moonlit garden, unnoticed by everyone else in the hall. He pulled her hand to where he could place a kiss on it. “Maera, would you join me for a stroll through the garden?” With her nod of agreement, Cregan pulled her out into the garden.

Halfway through their walk, Maera found herself pressed against an ivy-covered fence. The rough surface was digging into her back yet Maera could pay it no mind. All she could focus on right now was the feel of Cregan’s body pressed against hers. Her lips were captured by his. She could taste the wine from earlier this evening. It wasn’t her first kiss but it was certainly her most memorable. Maera whined in disappointment as Cregan pulled away, however, her breath was stolen from her as Cregan moved his lips to kiss her neck. He bit her pulse point causing Maera to press further into his body. She gripped his shoulders to steady herself. “Cregan…”

“Yes, Maera? Tell me what you want. You are a princess. It is my duty to serve you. I will do whatever you ask of me.”

Maera was delirious. She had never been in a situation like this before. “I…I don’t know. Just don’t hurt me.”

“Maera. I would never hurt you. Trust me. You will very much like what I plan on doing to you."

With her approval, Cregan wrapped one of her legs around his waist. One of his hands slipped under her skirts and wandered up her thigh. His mouth moved from her neck and down until he reached her chest. With one more glance up to his princess to make sure she was comfortable with his actions, Cregan unlaced the bodice of her dress. He took one of her breasts into his mouth, his second hand going up to the other so as to not neglect it. Maera gasped. She arched against him and clutched his hair. “Cregan! By the gods!”

Cregan released her breast and smirked up at Maera. “The gods have nothing to do with this, princess. Only you and I.” He returned back to her chest, wanting to continue making Maera feel good enough to tug on his hair again. His hand that was under Maera’s skirts moved higher up until he reached her centre. With adept and practiced hands, he slowly circled between her thighs, right where he knew would bring her the most pleasure. 

Maera’s breath hitched at the unfamiliar sensation. “More. I want more.” Cregan gave no indication that he had heard her until she felt one of his fingers enter her. His thumb continued to circle her clit to make the intrusion more bearable. Not that it was needed, she was quite wet for him already. When he felt Maera relax, Cregan added a second finger and cocked them in a come hither motion. This elicited the loudest moan from Maera thus far. “Please, Cregan. Don’t stop.” He complied had moved his fingers faster until Maera was pulled over the edge. She came screaming his name. Cregan captured her mouth in a long and passionate kiss so as to swallow her moans.

Maera felt Cregan remove his fingers from her. This was the best thing she has ever felt. Nights alone in her bed were nothing compared to this. Her legs were shaking from the pleasure Cregan had bestowed upon her. She clutched his shoulders for support, unsure that she could even stand on her own. Cregan certainly wasn’t going to complain. Nothing was better than the feeling of her pressed against him. It also boosted his ego to know that he was able to make her feel so overcome by the pleasure that she was unable to even stand on her own. 

After steadying her, Cregan kissed Maera once more as he laced back up her bodice. “I believe we have been away from the feast long enough. They may send people out looking for us if we return soon.”

Maera tried to protest. She saw the bulge in Cregan’s trousers. She wanted to make him feel as good as he made her feel just now. “But you have not gotten your release yet Cregan. I do not want to be selfish.”

Cregan smiled. He was so happy that he had a princess begging to satisfy him, especially one as beautiful as Maera. Unfortunately, or fortunately, he was a smart enough man to know how to quit when ahead. He wasn’t going to risk the punishment for him or Maera if they were caught. “I know how to take care of myself. You go first. That way it will be less obvious that we were out here together. I will follow you a little later.”

Maera pushed forward and placed a brief kiss on Cregan’s cheek. “Thank you.” She whispered before heading back into the hall. Little did the two of them know that a certain one-eyed prince had seen the whole thing.

A/N - Happy Valentine's Day! Here is some Maera/Cregan smut as a gift. It was my first time writing smut so I'm sorry if it is utterly horrible.