Discover Top Posts Tagged with #he ded?

Where in the world is Garrett Watts?

MESS HALL. WITH NEIL. NOW--

shit. Preston rushed to the mess hall, pushing his hair from his face and walking in on swift feet. Dazed, Preston scanned the faces of everyone in the mess hall.You would be able to hear a pin drop, Preston realized, as everyone stared nervously at him.“Wh-Wheres Harrison?”

//i stg you needa just reblog//

#oh no #he bleedin?#he ded?#cc preston #cc harrison #roleplay

Have I mentioned how breathtaking the shots are in this episode?

Lesson: You mess with the rabbit, You get to fall in your impending DOOM.

#usagi yojimbo #Miyamoto Usagi #Jei #usagi #tmntnick #tmnt2012 #kagayakei kintaro #he ded?#he immortal so i don't think he ded #but the skull says all

Lance and the Rain (1/2)

Okay so I like to see my faves suffer, and I also wanted to do a twist in ye old Lance really likes the rain, so here we are! I think I'm gonna do a part two, but depending on what kind of response this gets that may change. Either way, here's this, and I hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing it. - Lance had always loved the rain. Loved the sound, loved all the memories it held for him. Of his Mama, kissing his cheek before sending him out with the big kids to splash. Of his older siblings, running around and painting pictures on each other with mud. Lance loved rain, and it was one of the things he missed most about his home planet. His Mama always had her warnings though. He heard thunder, he was supposed to run back inside and settle in to watch the storm. The rain was harmless, but thunder meant lightning and lightning was not. Storms were much better observed from the safety of the home, sipping hot chocolate with a towel wrapped around his shoulders. Maybe Lance should have listened to his Mama when he found that planet. It was on one of the rare off days the paladins were granted, and so they had found a planet to relax on. It was nothing special, not even an ocean (much to Lance’s disappointment). Just a little forested area, though the electric purple color of the trees were breathtaking. They had a picnic, courtesy of Hunk. It had been a little overcast that day, just enough to shelter them from the sun. It wasn’t until the late afternoon that the clouds started knitting together, darkening and turning into something Lance knew very well. When the first droplets of rain fell, most of the team retreated to the castle to just watch, but Lance hardly had any such plans. He relished the rain, tipping his head back to let the drops of water slip down his cheeks until he couldn’t tell what was the rain and what was his tears of pure relief. Lance’s grin split his face in two in a flash of pearly white teeth, laughing and dancing around in the muck that was being made out of the soft ground. His sapphire eyes flashed in the storm quickly forming, so lost in his memories and elation that he didn’t notice the claps of thunder drawing closer. Couldn’t dredge up the tender, carefully stowed away memories of his mother’s warnings. The thunder grew louder, but Lance didn’t care, so swept up in his own personal heaven. He was a boy made of unhindered euphoria and joy, bared so vulnerably to the world. His own laughter was lost in the downpour, hair plastered to his forehead as he drank the world in. The thunder had reached its peak now, booming once nearby, twice, and then the third came from within him, lighting his body up in a rush of pure energy that made his head spin. He was a boy of white hot, arcing pain and burning cold, struck down with a scream to split the storm in a shrieking cacophony. He could swear he saw whole universe laid out before him, illuminated in a flash of light brighter than anything Lance had ever known. Then Lance had fallen to the ground, aware of very little but the fact that the world had blurred around him and the pain—why was there so much pain?—that incessantly dragged on the very breath passing from his lips, his chest rising and falling desperately to try and keep time with his stuttering heart. Lance wasn’t sure what had happened, but he was on fire. He was burning, he could smell it mingling with the damp petrichor. Someone screamed, and then rough hands had gripped onto his burning, hypersensitive skin that Lance wanted off because that was just making everything worse. He tried to tell whoever it was to stop, but he couldn’t get any words past his lips. He couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt and he couldn’t breathe and he was burning alive. A roar rang in his ears that shook the ground he stood on, but Lance wasn’t sure why. Truth be told he wasn't sure of anything. Everything was getting dark and he was still burning and how was he not just ash by now and, and? And then there was nothing at all.