#Lucy’s rambles

[dolliedyhard]

I MUST KNOW WHAT THE CREEPYPASTA COUNCIL’S STANCE ON THIS SERIOUS MATTER RAAAHHH!!!!

[mossy-rot]

very much enjoying the fact that people still deny that bill and ford had at the very least implied ex energy. like sorry you need an on screen sex scene to know they were together, i will be over here knowing that bill is putting the sub in subtext

[l3viat8an]

Fluff idea sitting in Lucifer’s lap while he works. Not even really talking to each other just enjoying the moment. 

Ahskhs fluffy Lucifer <3 rambling as always-

Honestly if Lucifer could he’d always have you sitting in his lap. Especially while he works at his seemingly, endless pile of paperwork.

Nothing calms him down more than knowing you’re safe in his arms.

Now it depends a little on if you’re sitting facing him or his desk-

If you’re facing him; wrap your arms around his neck or nuzzle your face into his neck and Lucifer will immediately relax into you. He’s still working ofc! He’s just not as stiff~

His fingers will run up and down your spine, when he pauses to think. Lucifer clams it helps him concentrate- but really he loves the way it makes you wiggle in his lap.

If you’re facing his desk; he’ll ask your opinion on little things once in awhile. Smiling at you proudly when you point out something he missed or just agree with him.

And it’s just super peaceful….sitting with Lucifer like this- The sound of his pen scratching away as he signs papers ‘n corrects others, soft classical music playing, (if you’re lucky you’ll even hear Lucifer humming along with his favorite part) and the faint scent of coffee, mixed with warm pine~

If you’re not careful you might just fall asleep in his lap <3 and then Lucifer will have a new homescreen for his DDD!!!

[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.

[ichilemonwritruoo]

Just your friendly reminder that Noctis is not an angsty teenage slob in Brotherhood--he is a teenager going through spiraling clinical depression. This is not the apartment of someone who is too lazy to clean up after themselves this is the apartment of someone who is too mentally distraught and weighed down to even bother with self-care. I will go to my grave saying Noctis has depression all throughout the events of FFXV and you cannot change my mind lol.

[ironyadays]

I'm just thinking about people who say Snow despises Katniss because he sees Lucy Gray in her...but what feels more painful to me is that Katniss (and Peeta to a certain degree) not only embodies the qualities that the capitol despises the most regarding the districts, but Snow can see so many people involved with those 10th hunger games tributes in her:

He sees Lamina looking at Marcus in pain and killing him out of sheer mercy in Katniss shooting Cato as a mercy kill.

He sees Reaper Ash's burial and defiance by giving his fellow districts a dignified death and sepulture when Katniss remained by Rue's side and decorated her grave with flowers.

He kind of sees Coral, albeit in a much more ironic way, this girl who was ruthless and embraced such violence with the purpose to protect herself and her district partner, the one she nurses back to health and refuses to leave behind, with the wish to have either one of them survive the games, only to realise it was all for nothing once she loses him and is about to die, when she loses her frail little sister at the hands of District 13.

He sees Sejanus standing for the revolution and fighting for others in detriment of his own safety, maybe not even taking the best judgement at times, in Katniss and not only her protection of Peeta, Rue, Mags, Wiress, but also her general place in the rebellion and restless pursuit of saving Peeta.

He sees Lucy Gray, who stood by Jessup's side until his last breath and refused to abandon him, that never conformed to what the capitol expected from her, and her long lasting and unbreakable heritage and print in Katniss' during the entire saga, but especially in the song that haunted him once as a reminder of the monster he truly is, and that came back to haunt him again in his downfall.

But most importantly, he sees himself, a man defined by his sense of survival, by his practicality and selfpreservation, in this less than 18 year old girl, and that's what terrifies him the most about that district 12 girl: the fact she forces him to confront that he caused so much pain out of a hunger that was never justified, that he could have made SO many things differently, and that most importantly, different to what he would try to say to himself, there was always another choice, and he might have not chosen the correct one every single time it came to deciding what path to take.

[balladofmyramblings]

Snow may land on top, but girls on fire can melt that shit SO quickly.

[nnnneeev]

if i had a nickel for every time a white-haired guy goes overboard with his romantic surprise, i'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice

[chronicowboy]

oliver stark and i are creating a petition for a scene set in a gay bar where lucy donato walks past him as she's being dragged to the bathroom by a beautiful woman and shouts "congrats on the bisexuality!" at him. sign below ↓ 📝

[let-noctis-be-happy]

Tbh one of my favorite things about the little interactions between the guys in FFXV when you do link strikes is that these aren't the moves of people who have a lot of irl experience. These are the moves of four guys who spent hours training and goofing off in a training room. This is the first time they're successfully executing these moves against a real enemy thus why they do their little celebrations! The fist bumps, the high-fives, or pumping their fists in the air. It's like "holy shit that was so cool and it actually worked!"

[dolliedyhard]

What kind of piercings do you think Jeff has?

I hc him having snakebites & a tongue piercing :b

[mossy-rot]

death note really is just like watching the worst polyam couple you've ever met

[bibliophilicowl]

You look positively emerald

Lucy St Louis as Glinda, Alexia Khadime as Elphaba, West End 2023: @bikinibottomdayz’s master

[always-a-king-or-queen]

C 👏 S 👏 LEWIS 👏 WAS 👏 NOT 👏 MISOGYNISTIC

IM SO SICK OF THIS TAKE

“But he said girls shouldn’t fight in battles—" No, actually. What he said was “Battles are ugly when women fight.” Which literally translates to “in a war where women are required to fight to help win it, it means the war itself is really bad.” And this literally just means that the war has gotten so bad that women have to fight, not that women shouldn’t fight. Just that they shouldn’t be forced to. Anyway, remember Lucy?? Lucy who rode to battle in The Horse and His Boy?? Lucy who fought as an archer?? “But Susan didn’t—" Yeah. Because she didn’t want to. No one was forcing her not to fight. She had free will to fight or to not fight, and she chose not to because she didn’t want to, not because a man made her stay home.

“He punished Susan for growing up—" S i g h. This is the one I see the most often. “He did Susan dirty” “he made her suffer because she liked lipstick” “etc etc blah blah blah” First of all Narnia is a children’s book series. For CS Lewis to delve into why Susan forgot Narnia, talk about her dealing with the death of her entire family, discuss her grief, and write about her eventual return to Narnia (more on that in a second), it would’ve made for a pretty dark and heavy children’s book, and Lewis said that he didn’t think that was something he wanted to write. But he also encouraged people to finish Susan’s story themselves, and said she might eventually make her own way back to Narnia. Not only this, but Susan’s name means lily, and the waters around Aslan’s country are covered in lilies. Coincidence? I think not. I think it symbolizes she was going to go back. (Especially considering I think Lewis was very careful in choosing each of the Pevensie’s names, since they all relate to their character).

Also, Lewis did not condemn Susan simply for growing up and liking makeup and clothing and boys. If so why would he have written about Aravis and Shasta/Cor, or Caspian and Liliandil? Why would he have written about Susan and Lucy being beautiful and having many suitors? So no, he wasn’t condemning her for that, and in fact he wasn’t condemning her at all. It’s extremely probable that her family’s death would have brought Susan back to her senses. Because here’s the thing: she forgot. She threw herself so much into the world and approval and convinced herself that her life as a queen and her acquaintance with Aslan was all a silly game they played as children, that it wasn’t real. But, she very well could remember again, and I 1000% believe she did.

“All his female characters were weak and did nothing—" My friend. Lucy Pevensie was a female. She discovered Narnia. It was because of her. Her siblings would never have found it without her. Lucy is one of THE most important characters in the entire series. And her title? The Valiant. Lucy’s very title as queen denoted her bravery and fortitude without one even knowing her. As for Susan, she was not any weaker for being “The Gentle.” I would say gentleness is honestly one of the strongest traits a person can have, because it takes a lot to live and be gentle. Also remember Aravis? A major character in The Horse and His Boy and future wife of Shasta, Aravis literally nearly killed herself to escape an arranged marriage. She was not someone to be dictated to; she made her own choices and escaped rather than submitting. And in the end, she’s still fiery, just a little more humble and with less of a chip on her shoulder. Then there’s Polly, who is the more logical person in The Magician’s Nephew and tries to stop Digory from ringing the bell that wakes the White Witch. A boy causes her to awaken, not a girl. It was Digory’s fault she woke up, not Polly’s!!

Also, Peter and Edmund do not ignore their sisters because they’re girls. They listen to what they have to say and speak to them as equals. They don’t forbid them from fighting; Susan chooses not to, but Lucy goes straight into the heart of the battle with them! So don’t even say Lewis made his female characters weak. They were the backbone of much of the series and without them much of the plot would never have happened!!

So don’t you ever say to me that CS Lewis was misogynistic because it’s the furthest thing from the truth

[eternally-tired-cryptid]

In Fairy Tail it's not as obvious just how powerful Lucy is compared to the other characters. The others are front line fighters, incredible physical attacks and bursts of magic. Lucy summons celestial spirits.

But! When we first met Lucy she could barely summon more than one spirit per fight, the idea of summoning multiple spirits at once was impossible for her. And on top of that it was incredibly difficult for even other well-known celestial wizards to summon two or more spirits at once. By later seasons, Lucy summons multiple spirits a fight and often at least two at a time.

Like, her level of power as a celestial wizard is unheard of, and here she is as a young adult who only began full on wizard training a few years before (compared to most of her friends who have been training most of their lives), and at this near impossible level of strength and only growing.

[reineyday]

i LOVE how they had lucy react to feral ghouls three separate times: the first when coop shot/mercy killed roger and she was dismayed, the second when she released a bunch and was forced to put them down when they attacked her and everyone else, and the third when she herself shot/mercy killed her mother.

it's just such a succinct way to showcase how her actions are changing in accordance with what she's learning about the world she finds herself in and how survive inside it, but that these new actions are still ultimately revolving around her own goodness. will be interesting to see how much of that transfers onto coop vs how much of his jadedness ends up affecting her own ethics.