#I loved you and goodbye

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

How much longer 'til your luck runs out?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[polyarmy]

I think she also thinks about how ultimately he couldn’t and Glinda *knew* he couldn’t and still part of her maybe wishes he did.

Do you think Glinda thinks about how Fiyero pointed a loaded gun at her and explicitly stated that he's willing to kill her

(When she thinks about how Fiyero and Elphaba died shortly after, does she wish they just shot her instead)

[jiauro]

Heavy is no longer my least played class

[notyourmusebby]

Charles really went all out in his goodbye to Carlos

source: Ferrari app

[raggedy-spaceman]

S02E04 Fun and Games

I'm a mess don't talk to me don't look at me don't touch me. They care. They actually care.

[wiseabsol]

The Ithaca Saga is banger after banger, but what makes me sob every time I listen to it is Athena's part in "I Can't Help But Wonder." Like DAMN is her arc amazing, especially in parallel to Odysseus'. And the gentle sadness of his response makes my heart ache.

[u3pxx]

MORE SWAPS, quick doodle of an idea for a portrait of swap!kim. i just wanted to draw a man so drab and miserable PFTT

[always-a-king-or-queen]

The ache will go away, eventually. 

That was what the Professor told them, the day they got back. When they tumbled from the wardrobe in a heap of tangled limbs, and found that the world had been torn from under their feet with all the kindness of a serpent. 

They picked themselves off of the floorboards with smiles plastered on child faces, and sat with the Professor in his study drinking cup after cup of tea. 

But the smiles were fake. The tea was like ash on their tongues. And when they went to bed that night, none of them could sleep in beds that were too foreign, in bodies that had not been their own for years. Instead they grouped into one room and sat on the floor and whispered, late into the night. 

When morning came, Mrs. Macready discovered the four of them asleep in Peter and Edmund’s bedroom, tangled in a heap of pillows and blankets with their arms looped across one another. They woke a few moments after her entry and seemed confused, lost even, staring around the room with pale faces, eyes raking over each framed painting on the wall and across every bit of furniture as if it was foreign to them. “Come to breakfast,” Mrs. Macready said as she turned to go, but inside she wondered. 

For the children’s faces had held the same sadness that she saw sometimes in the Professor’s. A yearning, a shock, a numbness, as if their very hearts had been ripped from their chests.

At breakfast Lucy sat huddled between her brothers, wrapped in a shawl that was much too big for her as she warmed her hands around a mug of hot chocolate. Edmund fidgeted in his seat and kept reaching up to his hair as if to feel for something that was no longer there. Susan pushed her food idly around on her plate with her fork and hummed a strange melody under her breath. And Peter folded his hands beneath his chin and stared at the wall with eyes that seemed much too old for his face. 

It chilled Mrs. Macready to see their silence, their strangeness, when only yesterday they had been running all over the house, pounding through the halls, shouting and laughing in the bedrooms. It was as if something, something terrible and mysterious and lengthy, had occurred yesterday, but surely that could not be. 

She remarked upon it to the Professor, but he only smiled sadly at her and shook his head. “They’ll be all right,” he said, but she wasn’t so sure. 

They seemed so lost. 

Lucy disappeared into one of the rooms later that day, a room that Mrs. Macready knew was bare save for an old wardrobe of the professor’s. She couldn’t imagine what the child would want to go in there for, but children were strange and perhaps she was just playing some game. When Lucy came out again a few minutes later, sobbing and stumbling back down the hall with her hair askew, Mrs. Macready tried to console her, but Lucy found no comfort in her arms. “It wasn’t there,” she kept saying, inconsolable, and wouldn’t stop crying until her siblings came and gathered her in their arms and said in soothing voices, “Perhaps we’ll go back someday, Lu.” 

Go back where, Mrs. Macready wondered? She stepped into the room Lucy had been in later on in the evening and looked around, but there was nothing but dust and an empty space where coats used to hang in the wardrobe. The children must have taken them recently and forgotten to return them, not that it really mattered. They were so old and musty and the Professor had probably forgotten them long ago. But what could have made the child cry so? Try as she might, Mrs. Macready could find no answer, and she left the room dissatisfied and covered in dust. 

Lucy and Edmund and Peter and Susan took tea in the Professor’s room again that night, and the next, and the next, and the next. They slept in Peter and Edmund’s room, then Susan and Lucy’s, then Peter and Edmund’s again and so on, swapping every night till Mrs. Macready wondered how they could possibly get any sleep. The floor couldn’t be comfortable, but it was where she found them, morning after morning. 

Each morning they looked sadder than before, and breakfast was silent. Each afternoon Lucy went into the room with the wardrobe, carrying a little lion figurine Edmund had carved her, and came out crying a little while later. And then one day she didn’t, and went wandering in the woods and fields around the Professor’s house instead. She came back with grassy fingers and a scratch on one cheek and a crown of flowers on her head, but she seemed content. Happy, even. Mrs. Macready heard her singing to herself in a language she’d never heard before as Lucy skipped past her in the hall, leaving flower petals on the floor in her wake. Mrs. Macready couldn’t bring herself to tell the child to pick them up, and instead just left them where they were. 

More days and nights went by. One day it was Peter who went into the room with the wardrobe, bringing with him an old cloak of the Professor’s, and he was gone for quite a while. Thirty or forty minutes, Mrs. Macready would guess. When he came out, his shoulders were straighter and his chin lifted higher, but tears were dried upon his cheeks and his eyes were frightening. Noble and fierce, like the eyes of a king. The cloak still hung about his shoulders and made him seem almost like an adult. 

Peter never went into the wardrobe room again, but Susan did, a few weeks later. She took a dried flower crown inside with her and sat in there at least an hour, and when she came out her hair was so elaborately braided that Mrs. Macready wondered where on earth she had learned it. The flower crown was perched atop her head as she went back down the hall, and she walked so gracefully that she seemed to be floating on the air itself. In spite of her red eyes, she smiled, and seemed content to wander the mansion afterwards, reading or sketching or making delicate jewelry out of little pebbles and dried flowers Lucy brought her from the woods. 

More weeks went by. The children still took tea in the Professor’s study on occasion, but not as often as before. Lucy now went on her daily walks outdoors, and sometimes Peter or Susan, or both of them at once, accompanied her. Edmund stayed upstairs for the most part, reading or writing, keeping quiet and looking paler and sadder by the day. 

Finally he, too, went into the wardrobe room. 

He stayed for hours, hours upon hours. He took nothing in save for a wooden sword he had carved from a stick Lucy brought him from outside, and he didn’t come out again. The shadows lengthened across the hall and the sun sank lower in the sky and finally Mrs. Macready made herself speak quietly to Peter as the boy came out of the Professor’s study. “Your brother has been gone for hours,” she told him crisply, but she was privately alarmed, because Peter’s face shifted into panic and he disappeared upstairs without a word. 

Mrs. Macready followed him silently after around thirty minutes and pressed an ear to the door of the wardrobe room. Voices drifted from beyond. Edmund’s and Peter’s, yes, but she could also hear the soft tones of Lucy and Susan. 

“Why did he send us back?” Edmund was saying. It sounded as if he had been crying.  

Mrs. Macready couldn’t catch the answer, but when the siblings trickled out of the room an hour later, Edmund’s wooden sword was missing, and the flower crown Susan had been wearing lately was gone, and Peter no longer had his old cloak, and Lucy wasn’t carrying her lion figurine, and the four of them had clasped hands and sad, but smiling, faces. 

Mrs. Macready slipped into the room once they were gone and opened the wardrobe, and there at the bottom were the sword and the crown and the cloak and the lion. An offering of sorts, almost, or perhaps just items left there for future use, for whenever they next went into the wardrobe room.  

But they never did, and one day they were gone for good, off home, and the mansion was silent again. And it had been a long time since that morning that Mrs. Macready had found them all piled together in one bedroom, but ever since then they hadn’t quite been children, and she wanted to know why.

She climbed the steps again to the floor of the house where the old wardrobe was, and then went into the room and crossed the floor to the opposite wall. 

When she pulled the wardrobe door open, the four items the Pevensie children had left inside of it were missing. 

And just for a moment, it seemed to her that a cool gust of air brushed her face, coming from the darkness beyond where the missing coats used to hang.

[willowser]

i think katsuki just answers his phone by barking out, "bakugou." no hello, probably doesn't even look at the caller id LOL when he hears it's you, though, i think he breathes out the tension he didn't realize was coiled in his shoulders, and says a lil, "hey," 🥺🥺

and i think when he calls you, and you answer with your sweet, "helloooo ??" he is so soft 😌 just mumbles out a quiet, "what'chu doin'?" and listens as you tell him, before saying what he needed to 😌

[tubbytarchia]

I don't know what this is all I know is that LimL Joel makes me really emotional

[gunstellations]

serenade

[bird-inacage]

The Duality of the THK Dork Squad

Find a cast who can serve you this:

BUT ALSO THIS:

I'm really going to miss the chemistry this foursome have together. They've been such fun to watch as a unit.

[polyarmy]

And I want to stress very hard

It is Fiyero being dragged to his death that makes it dawn on Glinda that she needs to intervene and save Elphie.

Until that moment, Glinda has denied every opportunity given to her to change course. Being slapped in the face with the reality of losing Fiyero makes her realize that she has to do *something*, because she does not want to lose Elphaba too.

Fiyero is repeatedly serving as a wake up call for Glinda in the show btw, if you notice. He sparks Glinda to reach out to Elphaba at the Ozdust. He urges Glinda to stop the charade that has her miserable. And finally… he gives his life, so Glinda can realize nothing is worth losing the best friend she’s ever had and loved.

It's really important to me that y'all understand that Fiyeros last words are, "Glinda, I'm so sorry."

Thats it. "Glinda, I'm so sorry." and then the end, lights out, shows over for Fiyero.

Those are the last words he speaks alive. Those are his last words, not as a scarecrow. It is the last thing he ever says. he looks at his ex-fiancee, the only person he's been able to trust, to rely on, to love, for the last 5 years. The person he just abandoned not 24 hours earlier. The person he was abandoning again but this time so much worse.

And she's forgiving him. She's looking at him and saying you abandoned me for my best friend, and you held me at gunpoint, and I'm pretty sure you'd hate me if you could, but it's ok because I love you, and I'll always love you, and you love her, and so do I and its ok, because as long as someone loves her, then it's ok.

"He was never going to hurt me, he just loves her."

And he's about to be dragged off to his death. They both know it, even if Glinda is still pretending like she can change it. She would if she could. She'd give her life to save his. To save theirs. but she can't. And that's a rant for another day.

And instead of begging for his life, instead of screaming and pleading against the brutal death he's surely going to receive, he looks up at the only person he's had for 5 years. The woman he's loved for 5 years. The woman he so deeply betrayed. And he apologizes. Because he can't have his last act hurt her. She has to know he loves her and will always love her.

His last act hurts her anyway because his last act is being beaten to death in front of her, but there's nothing either of them can do about that but scream.

"Glinda, I'm so sorry."

For the gun, for leaving, for staying, for being mad, for being happy, for lying, for not loving you enough, for loving her too much, for all of it.

"Glinda, I'm so sorry."

And then he's dragged away. And Glinda screams and cries, and begs them to let him go. And Fiyero does none of those things. Because it's pointless and they both know it. But he's not the one who has to live with his death. She is.

"Glinda, I'm so sorry."

and then he's dead.

Anyway, I am sick and tired of people saying they never loved each other because they absolutely did. I don't care if you think it was romantic or platonic or familial or what. They loved each other.

And it was Fiyero's death, it was watching Fiyero's fate be exactly what she was terrified hers would be, that motivated her to finally say fuck it and go find Elphie. It was Fiyeros death that caused her to go against everything that motivated her the entire show because she already lost one of the people she cares most about, there's no way in Oz she'll lose both of them.

And then she does anyway. And Glinda Upland is alone.

So stop saying they never loved each other cause they did. It was complicated at the best of times, but they did.

They Did.

[aceof-stars]

One thing I love about Miles Edgeworth is how realistic and practical he is, more than he is moralistic. As much as Miles cares about justice and doing what he thinks is right, he’s not fueled by belief the same way, for example, Phoenix is. And this is one of the things I feel like gets ignored or brushed aside when Miles's character is softened too much.

Both pre and post redemption, Miles puts a lot of emphasis on reality and the bottom line of what people can do in a situation.

In Turnabout Goodbyes, the first thing Edgeworth says in response to Phoenix asking him why he became a prosecutor instead of a defense attorney is: "… I couldn't let myself deny reality like you."

He also doesn't truly believe that every defendant he prosecutes is guilty, contrary to popular belief. In Turnabout Sisters, he says this: ""Innocent"…? How can we know that? The guilty will always lie, to avoid being found out. There's no way to tell who is guilty and who is innocent! All that I can hope to do is get every defendant declared "guilty"! So I make that my policy." Miles is disillusioned with finding the truth and trusting people that he settles for doing all he can hope to do.

And when you think about it, his motivation of finding the truth is an extension of his realism. After all, the truth is quite literally the most objective, realistic thing ever. In 1-3, after helping Phoenix convict Dee Vasquez, he says: "Will Powers was innocent. That he should be found so is only natural… not a miracle." The truth as a motivation is probably a grounding force for him.

When Miles comes back in Farewell My Turnabout, he calls out Phoenix's flawed motivations for becoming a defense attorney by offering realism: "We aren't some sort of heroes. We're only human, you and I. You want to "save someone"? That's something easier said than done, wouldn't you say? You are a defense lawyer. You can't run away from that. You can only fight. That's all you can do." Miles isn't saying Phoenix can't "save someone". Miles is saying that Phoenix shouldn't be so focused on saving someone that he forgets that his job as a defense attorney is only to fight for them.

Side note, I love the way Miles comforts people, he isn't exactly "nice" but he's incredibly kind. His blunt honesty digs at the heart of the matter, and he gives them an extra push because he respects them enough.

And then there's, possibly, my favorite Miles Edgeworth line: "It doesn't matter how many underhanded tricks a person uses… The truth will always find a way to make itself known. The only thing we can do is to fight with the knowledge we hold and everything we have. Erasing the paradoxes one by one… It's never easy… We claw and scratch for every inch. But we will always eventually reach that one single truth. This I promise you." This directly parallels the line he says in 1-2, and it makes me emotional every time I think about it.

The fact that Miles Edgeworth never lost his unwavering realism, in both quotes he acknowledges how untrustworthy people can be, but gained a new purpose.

[qui-gg]

ii 15 😁 is finally out😊😁 i got to see it at the meetup and i have so much more art to do but😊 OH MY GOD TACOS TIRADE! OH MY GOD LIGHTBULB. I have so much to say about both. And i will. Heavy lightbulb analysis incoming sometime