#Don't think about it

[the-barefoot-hatter]

Maybe ALL lullabies are kinda messed up

[hunnam]

Myles O'Brien Evil Laugh (1986) // dir. Dominick Brascia

[thatiranianphantom]

the wicked's lives are lonely

In the end, Glinda Upland lifts gracefully into the sky, the sun gleaming a gentle rainbow around her bubble. The ride is smooth, the palace she arrives at is opulent, and maids dust her off carefully, changing her out of her magnificent dress and dressing her in a soft silk nightgown. She sits down to a full feast of the best Oz can offer, looks over letters from adoring fans and listens to the maids gushing over how perfect she looks and how happy they are that the dark shadow of the Wicked Witch was finally lifted thanks to her heroism. 

They speak about the meetings of the next few days, the ceremonies to officially swear her into power, the punishments sure to come down on the likes of Morrible and the disgraced Wizard. They, like everyone she meets, thank her profusely, awed by her magic and beauty and kindness. 

Aren’t you just so happy, Glinda? 

That’s what they ask her, and Glinda smiles her perfect, beautiful smile and assures them that she is, that’s she’s so happy, that this is all she ever wanted, her dreams coming true. 

Forever, this is all she’s wanted. A beautiful life, a beautiful palace, people falling at her feet in adoration. She’s in charge now. Morrible’s in prison, where Glinda will make sure she stays, the Wizard is gone, and it’s on her now. It’s everything, all she’s ever wanted. It’s forever.

And at night, she sleeps in a grand, soft bed, and it is the coldest thing she has ever felt. And then, the dreams begin. 

A whip of black hair, of green skin, of screams of pain, screams for her. 

Of rope digging into his wrists, his agonized cries, begging, pleading, please no. 

Of a puddle on the ground, a life dismissed, forgotten, unimportant. 

Of a smudge of blood in a cornfield, a life revered and then dismissed, taken at the hands of the very people she has just sworn to protect. 

Of two people who died, calling for her, alone. 

They died alone. 

Sometimes the dreams are softer, too. Sometimes it’s a giggle as the light turns out, a whispered promise of “see you tomorrow, best friend” and it feels warm, like love. 

Sometimes she dreams of how Nessa used to squeal in laughter as someone would whip with her around a dance floor. 

Or how Fiyero used to make it a competition to charm the librarian with the most pinched, angry look on their faces, to make everyone smile. 

How Boq used to keep a small pen and paper in his pocket and tally the times that Glinda would come weeping into the quad because of something trivial like her favorite highlighter being discontinued, and when he got to 20, they would all go for a picnic to festivate. Glinda would roll her eyes but accept an invitation anyway, and they’d lie on the blanket and watch the sun set. 

Those dreams, she thinks, are worse. 

That life feels a million years behind her, that warmth replaced with a cold sterility, the love gone as soon as she wakes up, fighting to hold onto the embers of a dream that slips through her fingers every time. 

And as soon as she opens her eyes, it’s replaced by empty-headed maids still speaking in hushed tones about the wickedness of the only real friend she’s ever had, the betrayal of the man who stood up for what she wouldn’t, the tragedy of a tin man and a witch so evil it’s like they were carved away on the inside. 

It’s like a vice gripping her throat, a vice she has to smile through, a duty she has to perform to a people who stripped away everything she has ever cared about. Forever. 

They died alone. 

And it’s fitting, really, because wherever they are now - and Glinda refuses, refuses to think of an afterlife where the best person she ever knew doesn’t get every bit of the happiness she deserves - they have each other. She imagines them at that picnic, on that hill at sunset, her absence barely felt. 

They died alone, and now, and forever, alone is all Glinda will ever be. 

It just shows, when you’re wicked you’re left only

On your own

[writinginthesecrettrees]

don't think about sam with his lips painted with blood, dried ruddy brown and shiny. don't think about how it got there - a finger dipped into an open wound, dragged slow across the bottom lip while he stares unwavering at dean. don't think about dean holding his breath as sam dips his finger again to paint his upper lip.

don't think about dean's eyes flicking to black at the pain he welcomes because it's sammy's gift to him, and don't think about how yellow bleeds across sam's eyes.

don't think about a a king and his knight sprawled across the throne of hell, ignoring but not oblivious to the demons watching them, shifting uncomfortably as they wait for their monarch to finish riding his brother.

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Whatever you do, don't imagine Echo sobbing over comms as he explains to Rex what happened

[semperama]

Whatever you do, don't think about the fact that Buck has already lost Chris too, and he's probably been living on blind hope that Chris will come back soon, and instead of that, he's also losing Eddie!!

[retrofightingrobot]

I made another comic strip based on a strange dream my brother had...

[ramen8008]

Don't think about how Thalia will never meet her brother again even in Elysium.

Don't think about how when both Percy and Grover die at the same time because of their empathy link, the rest won't just have to live with the lost of not one but 2 of their best friends.

Don't think about how when Percy reaches Elysium, when he's reunited with all those who he lost, he will look around for Grover, only to remember that Grover is a styr, who'll be reincarnated as a plant, meaning he will never see his best friend again.

Don't think about Thalia living centuries after all her friend's deaths, remembering them every day, telling their stories to each new hunter, any and all new demigods. Don't think about her being there for Percy and Annabeth's kids. Don't think about her keeping Annabeth's cap with her centuries later, her remembering Percy with any blue food, her watering the plant Grover turned into, talking to him as if he's listening.

Think about the possibility of all of them decades after their deaths deciding to start a new life. Believing that no matter what they'll find a way to each other even in their new life one way or another. About how Thalia will see this new group of kids, that remind her so much of her friends, thinking "maybe..." Only to not dwell further.

[chiamew]

hi guys whatever you do don't think about Billy starting to forget what Garrett looks like and how horrified and guilty he would be over it given the type of person he is

[sonnburntskies]

Day: The fish is named Little Day. Night named it and put it in my room. I never even wanted a fish.

Don't think about Day panicking because the fish was dying and then threatened to fire Mork if he didn't save it. Don't think about how Night got the fish as a gift for Day and named it after him. Don't think about how when Day takes his eye drops and gets 10 seconds a day of slightly better vision, he uses it to look at the fish his brother gave him. DON'T THINK ABOUT IT!!!

[jesterboystrick]

Don't Think About It - Sanji/Zoro, explicit, 618 words

Summary:

Sanji doesn’t like being told what to do. Unless it’s in bed, then that’s all he wants.

Oct '24 collection masterpost

[mmmm-burnt-eggs]

Don't think about Pufferfish.

Don't think about Pufferfish exploding!

DON'T THINK OF PUFFERFISH EXPLODING AND SAYING "YIPEEE!!!"!! PLEASE!!!

PLEASE JUST DON'T THINK ABOUT PUFFERFISH EXPLODING

🐡 DO NOT

[nevrevrshppn]

These scenes scared the shit out of me as a child. Especially The Haunting Hour: Don't think about it, I had to hid behind my bed watching that. 😱😭

[midnakoopa]

My favorite part of Echoes of Wisdom so far is that you can just grab Deku Babas and tear their heads off.