it's not as good as i would like it to be

3, 2, 1… a fear submitted by Dell to Deep Dark Fears - thanks!

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3

TBH if someone was making me live in some strange isolated place for an indefinite period of time…gotta take the essentials.

We’ve talked a lot about the repeated deaths, but that’s not all that can happen in this kind of situation. What kind of injuries do you think the IPRE dealt with until the year was up and they were reset?

Magnus loses an arm. It’s an early cycle and he shouldn’t have had to make that kind of sacrifice, but he did it to help someone else and no one is really surprised. No one knows what to do - should they offer to help him with things? Would that be insulting? When Magnus comes far too close to losing his other arm in the same year, he learns to ask for help when he needs it.

Merle is too close to an explosion and loses his hearing. Lucretia offers him one of her notebooks, and it’s both a wonderful idea and a mistake because he uses it both to communicate and to leave notes all over the ship. They’re very dad-like notes, commanding various crew members to pick up this mess or go do some chore. When they try to argue Merle just shakes his head and motions helplessly at his ears, even though they are writing him a note in return. It’s not long afterwards that they reach a world that has sign language and everyone learns the basics. 

Lup has been burned, badly, but it takes a while before she lets anyone help her manage the pain because she doesn’t want to feel better when she can’t do that for Taako because he died in a fucking fire. It’s Barry who finally catches her with her guard down late one night, and he and Merle find a combination of cooling spells and herbs that make the pain (the physical pain) more bearable.

Davenport is blinded, and for a while he won’t accept any help. He’s the captain, he’ll figure it out on his own. He tries to pilot the ship with muscle memory and crashes it somewhere remote, and he just screams in frustration at losing the one thing he’s the best at, even if it’s only for a year. He’s quiet for a while, not interacting and going through the motions as well as he can, until Magnus wanders into the cockpit and asks what the big, red button is for. Davenport explains, more of the crew wander in, and he ends telling all of them about the ins and outs of their vessel. It’s a good day, and after that (both that year and after) he spends less time in the cockpit and more time with his family.

Lucretia can’t walk anymore, not easily and then not at all, so Magnus offers to give her piggyback rides everywhere she wants to go whenever she wants. Lup and Barry make her a chair (permanently levitating so that stairs aren’t an issue), but she finds she likes the company while exploring the new towns. She takes up Magnus’s offer more often than anyone expects her to.

A landslide that takes Lup catches Taako, too; he takes a serious blow to the head. When he wakes up he doesn’t speak, and doesn’t really look at anyone. But he listens to them, he can hear them, and eventually Lucretia picks up some journals and sits with him. At first she reads, but eventually she just shares interesting things that happened that day and gossip; even though his expression doesn’t change she can tell he’s enjoying the conversation from the way his ears flick around with as much movement as always. When the year is done they still gossip, but it’s never one-sided. (Except when it is, years and years later. Taako has a bad day and Lucretia offers to read to him, and he lets her. It’s a little sign that things are… better. Improving.)

One year there are days Barry hurts too much to walk on his own, and Lucretia’s chair makes a second appearance. Lup isn’t there, or Magnus or Merle, so the ship is quiet more often than not… until Taako and Barry go barreling down the hallway together clinging to the chair and targeting Davenport of Lucretia. It shouldn’t be funny but it is - one light and fun moment during a particularly bad cycle.

3

“So stop making that face at me…”

Lars of the Stars

5

the subtle not so subtle change in craig’s expression when he realizes tweek might actually be mad at him

4

Am I still thinking about that one AU? Yes, definitely

5

My rendition of this fic by @destieldrabblesdaily.

You should also definitely click to have better quality.

anonymous asked:

Okay, so here I am, an innocent lurker, having just found this blog, when I see: "what if the skywalkers were cthulu-type monsters." excuse me??? please elaborate you just wrote that and nothing else im dying ex p la i n y o ur s el f

  • The Force is everything that ever was and ever will be, every storm and every silence, the hunting krayk dragon and cowering bantha calf: it is huge, all-consuming, completely inhuman. How, then, could its children be anything short of monstrous? (Wonders, yes. But monsters all the same.)
  • Anakin Skywalker is boy-shaped, but Obi Wan cannot bear to look at him. 
  • A clarification: he can look at him with his human eyes; but he must clamp down the extra eyes his Force-sensitivity gives him, because when he doesn’t – well. The first time he met the boy he hadn’t closed those eyes; he’d open them, wide and curious and seen –
    • teeth and claws and roiling shadows, a slipslide of features and starfire, the white blur of warpspeed and it hurts –
  • Anakin Skywalker is the son of the Force, half human and half something extraordinary. There’s a reason the Jedi don’t like him, why Yoda mistrusts him; they all have to close their extra eyes around him; and even when they’re white-knuckled with effort, clamping down so the Force can’t so much as whisper to them (and that hurts Jedi, of course it does, it runs counter to all their training about opening up and trusting in the Force) and even then they still feel the velvet quiver of unseen limbs over their skin. 
  • And more. And worse. When he is angry – which is often – his shadow warps into something awful, and even the least Force-sensitive being quails at the profound wrongness of the sight. His features warp and melt, teeth spiralling out from his pupils, his mouth cracks open wide, his tongue growing scales and feathers and catching fire and he smiles, oh how he smiles and –
    • nothing like him should exist and
    • and you blink, lose the moment, he’s just a young man glowering at you, and his shadow is the same, but the memory of that horror is seared into the back of your brain.
  • It is no surprise that Padme dies in childbed. 
  • The first child’s cry makes Obi Wan’s bones rattle. It – you could not call it anything but an it – is a twisting, squirming mess of light and dark. There’s a wing, a thorned branch: you cannot focus on it. You cannot pin a shape to it. Obi Wan wants to run away, run and never look back. But the Med Droid is offering it to him; and it is a child, of a sort; and Obi Wan takes it, and it coalesces into a soft pink baby girl. He places it – her – against Padme’s white breast. Padme cradles it. “She’s beautiful.”
  • The second is just the same: pushed out like any human baby, but a roling mess of lightening and thick syrupy cloud, one moment tentacled and the next furred, pure power condensed. Obi Wan takes it in his arms and it solidifies into another fat baby, small and squalling. 
  • He’s not like the other babies, Luke Skywalker. He’s a funny one. When he smiles, you have the sudden absurd impulse that he’s got too many teeth for his face. His hair is corn-gold, but when you see it out of the corner of your eye you swear that it isn’t hair at all, but fire and teeth. Looking at him too long is like staring into the sun. 
  • The other children are scared of him, Behu says to Owen, once. And Owen says: children always know. And Behu says: he isn’t a bad kid. Owen says: he’s a wonder. And that’s the problem. 
  • Jabba’s goons go to the Lars farm to collect water once. Only once. They return to Jabba’s palace gibbering nonsense, with their eyes burned out. Both mumble something about there’s something wrong with the boy and then jump into the ragnar pit. 
  • Don’t do that again, says Owen, but he hugs his nephew all the same, pulls him close, kisses his temple. He feels something hot-cold run over his spine, like something far larger than the child is trying to embrace him back. That night, Behu runs her fingers over the new white scartissue on her husband’s back, and says, he’s a good kid. Owen says, I know.
  • If I was there I could have saved them, Luke says to Ben Kenobi, years later, and in that moment he has a thousand thousand eyes and all of them are burning, and he has no limbs but a dozen wings bearing him aloft, and each feather is molten gold and each feather drips blood. Ben thinks of Anakin, screws his Force-sensitivity closed. Luke is a monster. A wonder. But first and foremost he is a boy, and he is grieving. 
    • Ben Kenobi holds him while he weeps. 
  • When Leia comes, she turns into a celestial horror with more teeth than Han cares to count. “Huh,” he says, after their first time. She’s so little in his arms, but so vast. He feels something gentle his back. He says, “Next time, I’ll wear a blindfold, princess. Don’t want to blind me, do you? Then I won’t be able to see when you’re doing stupid shit.” She titters, presses her face into the curve of his neck. 
    • Love comes to everyone, including monsters. 
2

transformation  //  anxiety 

okay no offense but gansey was literally the first person to ever show adam uncomplicated, unabridged, true affection. gansey was the first person to recognize just how much adam longed for love, the first person to recognize that adam was too proud to ever ask for it. gansey was the first person to not only recognize the potential and abilities of adam, but tried to make adam recognize it himself as well. gansey was the first person to care that adam was unsafe, to care that adam was unhappy, to care about adam. from the moment they met, it felt real to both of them in a completely new way. gansey was adam’ best friend from nearly the moment they met, and has not ever stopped being it since. their relationship is one of simplicity, respect, honesty, obvious mutual admiration, and it is so evident that, on whatever level u chose to recognize it, they love each other !!!!!! that’s love, bicth !!!!! that’s it !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In one smooth motion, as if a wave passed over them, every candle in the ballroom goes out.

The light chat rises to panicked whispers in the darkness. I begin to choke on the smell of ash.

A sharp gasp rakes through the crowd as the tall candelabras at the top of the stairs erupt into columns of flame, illuminating the tall figure standing there.

They’re wrapped in flowing silk and sumptuous furs that shimmer like champagne in the firelight. Concealing their face is a goat mask. Its crimson eyes seem to glimmer.

The figure glides down the staircase, their very form seeming to flicker like a candle as they survey the crowd. A small laugh rises from them as their golden, clawed hand reaches to pull away their mask.  

In the smoke-choked silence, Nadia’s wine glass shatters against the floor. She brings a trembling hand to her lips. Julian squeezes my hand, urging me to step back.

On the staircase, Count Lucio’s eyes blaze with amusement. His grin splits like a wound.

“Surprise, bitches.” he laughs, throwing out his arms. “i bET YOU THOUGHT YOU’‘D S EE N THE L AS T OF ME”

***

S O I havE SOM  E HOPES ABOUT THE MASQUERADE CHAP T ER

9

the most beautiful smile ♡

two a.m.

not only did no one request this i wrote it in approximately 30 minutes. i have an immense soft spot for a punk teenage richie. this is so long im sorry

pairing → richie tozier x reader

word count → 1148

summary → oh, the wondrous things that can happen at two in the morning - like richie tozier stumbling through your window.

warnings: swearing, also ur aged up in this! around 17-18 ish!

Originally posted by richiertozier

 “Oh my God, Richie-”

 “Why the hell is your room on the second floor - oh shit -”

 “Oh my God!”

 A short laugh left your lips that sounded painfully loud, and Richie was on the carpet of your room (having face planted through your window). You knelt down by him and covered his mouth, as he was sure to say something, and you couldn’t explain what Richie Tozier was doing, feet out of your window and face on your carpet, to your parents if they woke up.

 No other sounds were made - a warm breeze coming through your window ruffled your curtains, but that was it. Pure silence. You were in the clear.

 You got up off of the floor, your hand leaving Richie’s mouth, and shut the window quietly. You whipped your head around to Richie, and while you were trying to be serious it wasn’t working because you had the biggest smile on your face. “What the hell were you thinking? What are you even doing here?” You ask him, and he responds with a grin of his own.

 “Missed you, sweetheart. Chivalry isn’t totally dead, is it?” Richie says, and you roll your eyes, sitting on the floor next to him. The room’s dark aside from a small, barely-illuminating lamp that you turned on in a haste once you noticed someone crawling through your open window.

 “You saw me, like, six hours ago,” You say, and his hand slowly finds yours, playing with your fingers.

 “Too long,” is all he says, and looks up at you through his glasses, and you feel your face heat up even though you know you shouldn’t - can’t - be flustered by the action, the person.

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