#just rattling the bars of my enclosure

[that-ineffable-devil]

Edwin lovingly chastising Niko for sitting on the roof ledge by saying "you don't want to catch your death."

The same episode in which she literally catches her death by stepping in front of Crystal.

And she just sweetly responds "I won't."

[shorthaltsjester]

the mighty nein - critical role

this is a place where i don't feel alone. this is a place where i feel at home.

[dizzybizz]

jay kinda day today

[saturnhas82moons]

Vi can’t wrap gifts to save her life.

She pays jinx to do it

Also Vi’s handwriting is horrible

Caitlyn has beautiful hand writing. And perfect wrapping skills

Vi can’t read it

It’s so obvious that come Christmas morning who wrapped what

[fighterlmao]

Figuring out an early Gillion design for myself! I haven't gotten too far in the show but he makes me feel insane ! Pls let me know if he has any cool scars or trinkets I should add hehe...

[festivating]

i'm still thinking about wicked's finale. glinda's last spoken dialogue is "i'd like to try to be glinda the good" because that's what elphaba wanted for her, to do everything elphaba couldn't do and make the world a better place. she's carrying out elphaba's wish and in a way honoring her, even when that's not what either of them want, even when the only thing they both want is to be together again.

and elphaba DOES want to be with her again. her final dialogue is literally "i only wish that glinda could know that we're alive." and the last thing she sings is the reprise of for good. even in the last moments of the show she's thinking about glinda. only glinda.

then glinda starts the reprise, and elphaba answers. they think about each other until the end. their very last lines are for each other.

[bombuni]

contains: jongho x reader, comfort, implied depressed!chronically ill!reader

Jongho’s pace quickens as he reaches your familiar hallway. His feet seem to know the way by now, as his mind is completely locked onto you and not where he’s walking. Still he finds himself in front of your sweet, perfectly ‘you’ welcome mat. His muscle memory follows what he’s done a hundred times, taking the keys you’d given him months ago and unlocking your front door.

It’s oddly silent inside your apartment. Usually it’s filled with your energy, which seems to infiltrate everything you come into contact with. Including Jongho. He walks further in, knocking on the door of your bedroom. He sees a bundle of blankets sat in the middle of your bed and he figures it’s you sulking. Imagining your body smothered by all the fabric makes him smile.

Jongho slides onto your sheets next to you, trying to bring his arm around the pounds of fabric surrounding you, “Hey,”

He feels you shift and finally your head pops out of the makeshift cocoon. There’s bags under your eyes and you’re still in your pajamas. There’s a pang in Jongho’s heart that always seems to hit when he’s with you. It’s familiar, and he knows it’s that same urge he has to make sure you never have to lift another pretty finger again. It’s not possible to bend the laws of everything, but he thinks if he tries hard enough, he can cater the world to your every need. He’ll try.

You plop your head onto his shoulder, “Hey,”

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, taking in the scent of your shampoo, “Bad day?”

You look up at him with the saddest eyes and he can’t help but coo at you, “Jjong, I haven’t even gotten out of bed today,”

He hums, “Mmm, s’okay, I only got dressed to see you,”

He turns to look at you when he hears you laugh, hoping to catch a glance of the smile he sees in even in his dreams. You raise your arm to let him into your cocoon and he scoots in, moving you so you’re comfortably in his lap. He wraps the blankets back around the two of you, letting you curl in and forget about everything else.

“But I’m like this all the time,” you mutter after a beat of silence, “Doesn’t it suck we have to live for like 80 more years?”

He knows that it does and will continue to ‘suck’ for you. What with needing constant medications just to function, and he’s seen how ‘low’ your ‘lows’ can get. But, he likes to remind you that he’s always been the one to bring you back up. He’s handed you every brick you’ve used to build yourself.

“No,” Jongho thinks for a moment, “‘Cause I get more time to take care of you.”

You turn to look at him with a cheeky smile, ready to tease him but he shuts you up with a roll of his eyes, “Be quiet.”

You lean into him, giggling as he pretends to smother you in his arms, “I wasn’t going to say anything!”

Jongho grumbles something about ‘ruining his reputation’ but you can’t really hear over the sound of your laughter. His hoodie smells like cinnamon and his perfect brown hair falls into your eyes. It’s a nice day, but you’ll spend it inside with your boyfriend.

bom note: i love how i JUST said i wasn’t going to post .. im not sorry bc there is a criminal lack of jongho fics in this world and he’s literally my tiny squishy bear

[canisalbus]

Hi I was thinking about your sad gay dogs and how their paths have diverged since you created them and this need from folks to save then and anyway anyway I wrote a poem.

A past that never existed

A future that cannot be

Fiction rendered soft fantasy

Created destined for tragedy

And yet the world asks so

Can they be remembered

Wherever they do go

.

[spacerockband]

the doctor games

[sopekooks]

153/638 days of missing yoongi

[tallmadgeandtea]

This week on Turn Twitter:

[thedeadthree]

✧ — 𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

-`. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @carrionsflower and @loriane-elmuerto tytyy sm lori and airika!!!!! 🥀💌🐦‍⬛

✧ — 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓.

coffee or tea | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees | macarons or eclairs | typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens | masquerade ball or cocktail party

✧ — 𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐓.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 — bel canto.

𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐎 — nostalghia.

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐊 — mannequin pussy.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀 — chappell roan.

𝐃𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐋 — florence + the machine.

— 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠:

@sunsofdawn, @pavus, @happilyobsessing, @girliefailure, @alvsanne

@auricfog, @jamessunderlandgf, @weisshaupts, @grapecaseschoices, @risingsh0t

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @full---ofstarlight, @fenharel, @unholymilf

@aelyosos, @anoramactir, @roofgeese, @cloudofbutterflies92, @griffin-wood

@southernreaches, @chainsawsangel, @leviiackrman, @tethrras, @rosykims

@tommyarashikage, @carlosoliveiraa, @courtana, @lilywatt, @kroganloveinterest

@shadowsofrose, @celticwoman, @shadowsofrose, @dialdrunk, @kissingwookiees

@neonshrike, @confidentandgood, @lavampira, @adelaidedrubman, @imogenkol

@kanos, @deadrlngers, @elluvians and you!!!!!! 🥀💌<3

[skibasyndrome]

me, lying to myself: I can be normal about Omar

me when I see a single picture: I need to BITE HIS KNEECAPS

[galedekarios]

i wish ppl would stop making every boundary gale sets for himself about mystra or his perceived insecurities from his relationship with mystra

[according2thelore]

i just reread ur Love Potion no. 9 and now I’m thinking about es!dean cooking ls!sam a ribeye bc he has a KITCHEN here and ls!sam trying to make himself eat it <3 anyway love ur stuff so much

EEP! thank you anon! i love domestic winchesters so much, lol!

this idea crawled into my head and stuck there until i wrote it. this is humiliatingly long but thank you for the prompt!!! your brain anon!!!

mwah!! mwah!!! <3

the smell brings sam into the kitchen. younger dean is standing near the stovetop, shuffling dishes around. when sam clears his throat, about to ask what he's making, the kid jumps.

"are you making dinner?" sam asks, confused. dean picks up the dishtowel, wiping his hands. sam's younger self and older dean went out to get extra spark plugs for the old junker in the garage an hour ago, and sam was planning on reheating some takeout from the other night.

dean hasn't dropped the dishtowel, kneading it between his hands like he's trying to strangle it.

"yeah, y'know. grandpa told me that i--he--us. we? do a lot of the cooking."

sam rolls his eyes because dean has gotten in the habit of calling older dean 'grandpa' and 'the geezer' and 'ol dusty.' it's cute.

but gosh, the smell. sam's stomach roils. dean must see something shift on his face because he's quick to explain.

"d'you remember when we were stuck outsida asheville? and the only thing we had were those hotdogs?"

sam can't help but wrinkle his nose. he definitely remembers. dean had done everything he could do dress them up and make it different, but they went on a hotdog strike for months after, only choosing other food if they had a choice.

"i got real handy with the grill. that's...kinda the only gourmet cooking i've got under my belt. i asked, but. uh. anyway. i made you steak? a ribeye steak?"

it sounds like a question at the end and sam's stomach sinks because oh shit. dean made this. dean made this for me. sam looks over dean's shoulder, easier than it would be if dean were his older self, pounds of muscle not packed in yet.

that's where he's been. he's been in here since before the other two even left. cooking dinner. for sam. to eat.

it's not even a question of if sam's going to do it. because he is going to do it.

it's a question of how neutral can he make his face as he chokes it down.

and oh god, it's huge. the steak is as big as dean's face, and sam knows for a fact that he must have picked it out specifically, because dean did not have that thing in their fridge.

sam's stomach goes wobbly with the image of this little dean, trailing in aisles in the local grocery store with a hat pulled low over his eyes (like they had all agreed to do until this blew over), deciding which steak sam would like the best.

"oh wow!" sam says, trying to sound encouraging. "it's big."

dean flushes fourteen different shades of pink over a period of ten seconds, and yeah. sam sighs. he's going to eat the fucking steak.

six minutes later, after dean had pushed sam down into a chair and let his hand on sam's shoulder linger for two seconds longer than it should have--

(and really, dean is not smooth. sam wished he had known back in 2006 that dean was this easy to fluster because he would've fallen to his knees in shitty motel carpet ten years early and saved them all a lot of heartache.)

--sam is staring at easily sixteen ounces of meat. to dean's credit, it looks like it should feature on a grilling magazine or something. but all sam can smell is the slightly seared odour of flesh.

"and i heard that you like greens, so--" sam tears his eyes away and dean awkwardly balances a bagged salad in his hands. sam feels like crying. this is going to be a rough few minutes.

"share it with me," sam asks, begs really, but dean just shakes his head.

"nah, man. i made it for you. i've got one for me." and sure enough, sam's stomach sinks as dean brings over another plate to the table with a much more reasonably sized offering.

"great." sam says, smiling bleakly. his throat is clogged and thick when he swallows. he tastes acid at the back of his throat. they sit in silence for a few minutes while sam pops the salad bag, trying to frantically puzzle out how he's going to eat this thing.

he could eat it as fast as possible? give his nerves less time to process the hot skin sliding down his throat. but the chances of him throwing up would increase exponentially. he could chew and hide bites in his napkin? but dean would catch it.

sam's stomach sinks. he's going to have to chew it. and swallow it. and let it sit in his stomach. heavy and full. skin grease and meat tearing under his teeth. sam's mind whites-out with the memory of the cage, of being forced to eat his own thigh down to the bone.

"so..." dean asks, "how long have we lived here?"

sam looks up, and realizes that dean is gripping his beer bottle so tight that it looks like it might shatter in his hand. sam softens. kid looks like he's going to shit himself.

"you know i can't tell you that." sam chides. and he picks up his fork. he picks up his knife. he braces himself. and he cuts.

"and what are your...what are your plans?" dean asks, thirty minutes later. they've been talking back and forth, trading memories of things pre-2006. sam's been trying to keep this strictly common knowledge, and dean--unlike sam's younger self--takes it mostly in stride.

sam feels an automatic reflex to burp rising in his throat, and he locks his muscles as much as he can because if he feels the taste of aerosolized meat in his mouth again, he will vomit.

half the steak is gone, and dean's food is completely gone. he doesn't seem to be in any rush, and keeps giving sam more beer. sam keeps having to take sips after each bite to wash the taste away as soon as he can, so he appreciates it. dean seems more and more surprised that sam isn't letting more slip, and sam smirks to think of how much of a light-weight he used to be.

is dean trying to get him drunk? sam's kind of flattered, he thinks.

"my plans?" sam repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"yeah. y'know. for the future."

sam looks at dean appraisingly. it could be a ploy for information, but for some reason, dean looks prematurely disappointed, like he's bracing himself for bad news. sam quickly takes another bite, thin enough that he can swallow it down without chewing at all.

"well." sam says, slowly. taking another swig of beer. "i've always wanted a dog. but--" he smiles. "'grandpa' says no. he's afraid it's going to get hair all over the car."

dean blinks at him. like he's waiting for something else. but when sam just stuffs another bite in his throat, dean cracks a hesitant smile.

"well. grandpa's very wise. i've always said so. dander is shit for leather."

sam smiles, rolling his eyes, when he hears footsteps.

"did someone grill out inside--" dean. older dean. he rounds the corner, and freezes when he sees the steak in front of sam. his younger self sitting across from him. "what the fuck?"

"dean, it's okay--" sam says, quickly, before dean can say anything, but dean is already storming across the room.

"did you eat this?" he demands, but before sam can say anything, dean whirls on his younger self. "he doesn't eat meat, jackass."

the younger dean blanches. "what? yeah he does. we eat burgers all the time."

"not my sam, one tree hill." dean turns around to face sam again. "are you okay?"

in truth, sam already feels the meat settling oddly in his stomach. he feels like he's going to be sick. but he just glares at dean instead, furious. the cage is sam's to tell--or sam's to bury, in this case. dean's tone is too acerbic for young dean to not pick up on the weight of it. it's clear from dean's tone alone that sam's aversion to meat is not a choice made on ethics.

younger dean looks like he's about to cry, sitting back in his chair. silence stretches for a second.

"give us a minute." sam snaps. dean flushes a furious shade of scarlet.

"what the hell? i'm not--"

"dean." sam says, cutting. dean peters into silence, and sam looks at both deans, one furious and one crestfallen. "he was doing something nice."

"by forcing you to--"

sam puts a hand on dean's, pushing the plate in his hands down. he makes eye contact, and sees the concern there. dean's never been good at letting sam take care of himself, and sam can already see how a version of himself 'hurting' sam is making him ready to start throwing punches. he softens.

"i'm going to be fine. let me handle this, please. i'll catch up with you later."

dean's mouth twists up in a snarl. "sam--"

"later." sam repeats, and dean growls something unintelligible as he storms out of the room. sam sags forward, finally allowing himself to process how full and ill he feels. how the alien flesh in his stomach feels revolting, thick.

"why didn't you say anything?" a quiet voice. sam looks up, smiling a genuine smile this time, and allowing it to look as weird as it probably does.

"i can't." sam says, apologetic. he's not going to tell dean anything about it. he can't know. dean rubs a hand over his face.

"i'm not used to not knowing you, sammy." he murmurs, looking sick. he looks so young that sam's chest contracts. what a sorry pair they make.

"you know me." sam reassures softly. "i'm your little brother."

dean looks up at him then, huffing an unamused snort. they look at each other for a long while, sam tracing the round curves of dean's face. his wide eyes. sam wonders what dean sees when he looks at him.

"yeah. okay." dean says, finally. "'m sorry."

sam shrugs. "how about we get outta here? there's a diner down by the movies that makes a mean veggie burger."

dean nods, still looking lost.

"they also make the best pecan pie in the state. we've checked."

dean snorts, and there he is: sam's big brother. young, and lost, but undeniably here, in the swoop of his bottom lip as he smiles.

sam's chest expands with his first full breath in almost an hour, and something else. something warm.

"i'll be the judge of that." dean says, cocky and all false-reassurance. sam wants to kiss him. but he stands instead, and nods towards the door.

"lead the way."

~~~

i saw something the other day that suggested veggie!sam was a hot take, and i think i'm only a partial veggie!sam believer. i think it comes and goes--he has good and bad days.

i can only imagine the cage made sam's relationship to consuming meat weirder. but who knows! thank you again for the prompt anon!!!

-lizzy

[peepee-magee]

I want a theft game event where everyone tries to steal things from the castle without getting caught by Barbados (like fr can get away based on your choices not just auto caught-victory can be random generated for the npcs) n whoever steals the most impressive thing gets an irl prize from Diavolo

The only rules are: 1. Everything must be returned in the end. If you pawn or steal it’s a disqualification n immediate treason charge is placed upon you. 2. No teams larger than 3 (one player picked another randomized), separate teams cannot help each other. 3. No spells outside of what’s required to safely get past/handle any magic already in place around the castle for security purposes/handle cursed objects (so no teleporting, no weather magic, no pact manipulation etc.) A true ‘shove it down your pants n walk out’ sorta game

It could kinda be a march madness style setup where whoever steals the best/most moves up a round n then based on results the actual leaderboard gives you a random specialty prize based on your initial play-through. Like a unique banner that goes around your profile pic for the duration of the event. Everything else would work kinda the same

Imagine a game where Luke is the winner cuz no one expects him. Or Belphie wins cuz no one expects the sleeping corpse to slug 200 grand worth of historical objects out under his blanket while never getting up off the floor. Imagine if we win n our prize is getting to choose between irl energy or devil points. Ik it’d be a lot of work to program all that but once the works done imagine how many other events you could apply it to. Could be extra interesting in the beginning of the game to if random outcomes are influenced by your heart connection to some degree so they actually matter beyond phone calls