#listen!

[deliciousnecks]

nandor putting his entire body into that bite 🥵🥵🥵

[yuri-luver69]

imagine chansaw dgw and hear me out here. all you need to do is change every other lyric

“although you said i gots to go, you’re my last meal on death row!” and “they say you’re cold inside, but i can’t agree” hear me ouy

[sharnefarn]

Hey! Listen!

[radioactive-killjoy]

The Second Coming was always going to happen

The Metatron doesn't need Aziraphale specifically in order to make it happen, but he must know that Aziraphale is a significant threat to the plan.

"Keep your enemies closer."

Keep Aziraphale where he can see him and where he's away from temptations (especially since Crowley said no - did this surprise the Metatron? I don't think so) and maybe he can keep Aziraphale controlled.

This, of course, is incorrect because Aziraphale doesn't just love Crowley and coffee. He loves humanity. His moral compass is stronger than his desire to be seen as a good angel. Instead of neutralizing a threat, the Metatron invited the threat in.

[fofi42]

Listen!

[aintnopartylikeabacchusparty]

I’m scared of the person I’ll become if I listen to and enjoy Epic the musical

[whoblewboobear]

Lmao I sent a pic of Quinn to the gc and bestie that always jokes about being exactly my type was like “that’s just me if I had long hair 👀” I-

[eggcats]

I don't care what the post-credit screen teased, the next Mario movie needs to be Luigi's Mansion - a) because the first movie didn't have enough Luigi in it, and b) so we can give King Boo and Luigi what the Mario movie gave Bowser and Luigi

[deliciousnecks]

💔💔💔

[therelentless]

vampires sleeping with their hands over their chest to protect their hearts u.u

[kcuf-ad]

And for the world, or Hueco Mundo's,greatest found family goes to...

Nelliel, Pesche and Dondochakka!

[teamthunderdome]

ROUND 1

QUARTER 4 - FIGHT #1

TWO TEAMS ENTER. ONLY ONE CAN LEAVE.

YOU DECIDE.

(Please reblog for a larger sample size, or to spread your team's propaganda)

[insomniackel]

I’m gonna need to vod watch later and clip every bagina moment

[spaceofentropy]

Oh, fuck, how many fucking fics dealing with death and grief am I gonna write in the next months?!

God, I hate myself and my brain already.

[isaut]

𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒐 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒊𝒗.— dehya x fem!reader. 700. drabble.

you didn’t think i could go this whole time without mentioning my other lover? drinking, grief, bards in taverns, implied beidou x reader. fantasy au tag.

Dehya finds your chambers remarkable. The vaulted ceilings, free from cobwebs. The candles hanging precariously throughout the tower, resting upon and suspended along tendrils of magic. The walls, lined with books where there is not a sill to sit, where there is not charts and maps and stained glass. 

Dehya pauses before a bookshelf, filled with trinkets: Crystals and herbs, jars of cat eyes and collections of talons. Stacks of journals. What catches her eye, however, is a well preserved skull with engravings on it. A scrawling script in elvish, carefully burned into the ivory. 

She reaches out to touch it, but your voice comes through. Not as harsh as she had expected, almost weak in your delivery. 

“Don’t touch that,” You say, from your shy perch upon your bed. Your hands rest in your lap, playing with the rings upon your fingers. 

“Apologies,” Dehya says. “Why do you have a skull?” 

You come to stand next to her, feeling the weight of your dress as it drags along the marble floors. Why do you have a skull? Carefully, you remove the skull from its throne of purple velvet. It is both cold and warm in your hands. Carefully, your fingers trace over the carefully engraved words, and a warmth emits onto the tip of your finger. 

You place the skull back to its resting place before its owner’s memories can begin to filter through your thoughts. 

“She rests in a place of honor.” 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Dehya says. 

You’re quiet for a few moments, then take a deep breath. “She’s a mortal,” You finally say, “Not unlike you.” 

Your chest aches. Dehya swallows, audibly, beside you. 

“I hope one day you trust me enough to tell me who she was,” Dehya says, resting a hand on your shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be now.” 

—

Sitting in a tavern, you nurse an ale alongside Dehya. You’ve added elven liquor to your drink, your body humming with the magical intoxication. The bard sings atop a stage, sings tales of old. Most of which you have lived through. Dehya rambles beside you, more than happy to have you in your company. 

He begins his next song, however, and it causes you to slowly lower your ale, ignoring the story Dehya was telling you. The bard crafts a tale that seems as old as time, one of triumph and defeat, one of dragonslayers and dragontamers. 

“Can you ask the bard to sing a different song?” You ask Dehya, interrupting her. 

Caught off guard, Dehya listens in on the song. Recognizing the tale, her brow furrows. “What’s wrong with this one? Everyone loves this one!” 

A crowd favorite. For puppet shows go on in the town square telling the tale, of the woman who slayed a dragon on her own, without magic. Who survived being dragged miles under water, who swam to the surface with the head of a water serpent in her hand. 

“I know her,” You state. You set your pint down. “And I am in no mood tonight to reminisce over losses.” 

Dehya’s eyes widen. Her attitude shifts, all excitement and eagerness. “You knew the Captain of the Crux Fleet?” 

“Dehya, I’ve known just about everyone,” You say, unsurprised by the admiration and shock in her voice. 

Dehya shakes her head. “This is different. I can’t believe you’ve never mentioned this before.” 

“Do you speak of your deceased lovers to your current?” You cut through her excitement with the chill of a frozen blade. 

Dehya freezes. She clears her throat. “I’ll ask the bard to change the song.” 

You grip your pint tightly, and stop Dehya. “No, forget it.” You settle back on the chair. “No, leave it. She… She would want this story told. I’m sorry. I spoke… Out of a dark place.”

“Hey, I don’t mind,” Dehya says, overlooking the tone in favor of more favorable aspects of your statement. 

She grins and leans back on her elbows, bringing her pint to her lips, facing the bard. 

“What?” You snap.  

She simply keeps smiling. “You think of us as lovers.” 

You suck on your teeth. 

“Will you keep my skull in your bedchambers, too?” 

“I’ll use yours as a warding spell so I don’t fancy anymore brash women for as long as I live. Will save me the heartache.” 

Dehya lets out a laugh at that, much to the dismay of the other patrons and the bard. 

“Forgive my companion,” You say, “She can’t hold her liquor.” 

Dehya begins to say your name, but you cut her a look, and place a finger to her lips. Dehya goes cross eyed trying to see your finger, opposed to simply feeling it. 

“Quiet, the story is getting good.”