“Something Happened Inside Me. A Huge And Uncontrollable Wave Ran Through Me And Crashed On The Shore

😍

Because everyone is in lockdown, the wild mountain goats have taken over a town in North Wales.

Let’s talk about a cat who spent a whole day waiting on a wall, while everyone else was celebrating, because she had heard something and she couldn’t believe it. Because people were laughing for the first time in years, and all she wanted to do was cry.

Let’s talk about a teacher who was strict and severe, but fair and caring. A woman who fought for her students until the very end, with her green robes and stern look, three silver cats flying out of her wand. And they fought for her too.

Let’s talk about Minerva McGonagall.

When Minerva McGonagall saw Harry for the first time, she didn’t see his mother living in his green eyes, like Severus would. She didn’t see James’ ghost in his shy smile, like Sirius; or a hero to be shaped by manipulative hands, like Albus. She didn’t even see an orphan, like the rest of the world did. She didn’t see the boy who lived. She just saw a boy, her student, and for her, that was enough.

Minerva McGonagall survived a war and all that came after. The funerals and the sorrow, but also the laughter that was back. She survived the ghosts and the mourning. She let her heart break over Lily’s death, her hands shaking because James would never make another joke; a sharp, disappointed pain over Sirius’ betrayal (they had been her students. They had been her children) and then she collected the pieces and moved on. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, Albus said once. And she didn’t dwell on dreams. She was stone and she would not shatter.

She survived a war, and, when she had already buried the dead and forgotten the nightmares, another one came. And she survived it too. She was a rock, and rocks may be weathered, but they don’t break.

When Fred and George Weasley abandoned the school, leaving behind a trail of cheers, admirers and laughter, and a petition (give her hell for us, Peeves), Minerva saw Umbridge’s fury and Peeves’ bow, and hid a smile in the corner of her lips. When Neville Longbottom came to her office, asking for advice, with his clumsy hands and a respectful fear in his eyes, she offered him a biscuit and some tea, and she gave him reassurance with her stern frown and her steady voice.

When Remus Lupin became the DADA teacher, she invited him to her office. She offered him biscuits too, some chocolate this time. They talked for a long time, about old times and forgotten joys, about four friends and their mischiefs and pranks. They looked back on their bets and their antics, their hopes and their dreams. They didn’t talk about death, not that evening, and the Marauders came back to life in that room, their voices rising and stealing pieces of a future they hadn’t gotten to live. They also talked about their students, homework and assignments, because they were teachers after all, and that was something worth remembering.

She gave him a knitted jumper for Christmas. He gave her a box of chocolates. Years later, she would stand by his grave and leave a single flower on it. A flower for the boy she’d known and the man he’d become. The man who was kind and quiet and healing. The man she’d like to have gotten to know better.

Albus died then, a shout and a blaze of green light. A fall, and it was all over. It felt like the end of an age. “Are the rumours true?”, she had asked, once upon a time. Now she wanted to ask Harry the same thing, trying to keep her voice from shaking, because Albus Dumbledore couldn’t be dead, could he? But then again, James and Lily couldn’t have been, either, and yet they had been, they were.

When the Second Wizarding War began, she stayed at the school. She kept teaching, because she was a teacher and she would not let them take that from her. Because her students were there, and she wouldn’t leave them alone. She wouldn’t let them die, all those brave children, if she could do something to save them. She wasn’t like Albus, who had prepared himself to sacrifize a boy in the name of the greater good. A boy’s life for the sake of the world.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, there was a destroyed castle and ashes. Minerva stumbled when she saw George’s desperation and Fred’s frozen smile. She wanted to cry when she came across Lavender’s body. She finally collapsed to her knees, when she found Colin Creevey. She had seen him this still, once before. But there were no mandrake leaves to save him, not this time. He was too young. He shouldn’t have been fighting a war, the brave and naïve boy.

Pomona Sprout kneeled next to her then, and Minerva sobbed on her shoulder.

“A boy”, she cried. “He was a boy, he was a child. Children, they were children.”

Pomona let her weep, and then she said,

“There are children here still. They are alive, and they need you, and more will come, and you’ll be there. And you’ll be fine.”

And she was right. Minerva collected the pieces once again, and she moved on. She sent a box of chocolates to Dennis Creevey, as Remus would have done, because he was so much better at being kind than her. Than any of them, really. Dennis sent her a photograph, an old picture of Albus and her, the Weasley twins laughing in the background. She met Molly Weasley for tea, and they shared anecdotes. And she went back to Hogwarts and she kept teaching, because she was a teacher before anything else. She became the new headmaster. The best one of them all.

Some years later, Neville Longbottom knocked at her door, asking for a job. She remembered all the times he had come, asking for advice with his stammering voice. She remembered the way he had led the resistance, the way he had stood up and defied the ones who had made his parents lose their minds. The way he had worked hard and stubborn, never giving up. She offered him a biscuit and some tea. She had never felt so proud.

When he left, she went through some papers. She looked up and the portrait of Albus Dumbledore winked at her. She smiled and went back to work.

When Teddy Lupin arrived at Hogwarts for the first time, expectation in his eyes and bright colours in his hair, he was nothing like the other orphan who had stared at her once upon a time, the one who had had skinny elbows and broken glasses. Teddy Lupin wasn’t looking for a family, he already had one. But, as she had done before, she saw another student, and for her, that was enough.

She was a teacher. Students were her children. And she was their rock.

Let’s talk about “Toy Story 4” and “Avengers: Endgame”

SO In both films at the end of the story of one of the main characters of all the movies he returns to his first love from past, leaves his best friend and gives the title to his other friend

AND EVEN THE ENDING SCENE LOOKS THE SAME ARE YOU SERIOUS????????????

I’M CRYING THESE SIMILARITIES ARE KILLING ME

It's not selfish to feel bad about yourself it's selfish if you dismiss it and shove your problems and emotions away telling yourself others have it worse

Excerpt from the novel “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by Stephen Chbosky

Thank you Jenny Han for debuting my version of This Love in the trailer for The Summer I Turned Pretty!! I’ve always been so proud of this song and I’m very 🥺🥺🥺 about this turn of events - This Love (Taylor’s Version) comes out tonight at m i d n i g h t! Pre-order now http://taylor.lnk.to/thislovetv

prop culture (2020) ➤ william moseley, anna popplewell, and georgie henley (ft. peter’s shield)

“it feels a lot lighter!”

A career for a career - Megan Fox deserves to have hers back. Michael Bay deserves to be blacklisted, something he had no problem doing to her when she exposed him for his awful, predatory behavior.

Once is Always

The first day back in England, every one of the Pevensie children managed an extravagant fall. 

Their legs are shorter than they should be, but they can’t say this out loud. 

Weeks go by. Eventually, they all relearn how to walk. 

But there are other, stranger things they can’t relearn. 

Like how:

Lucy is eight. 

Lucy is twenty-three. 

She can’t remember how to be small and unimportant, or how to play children’s games. Fifteen years in another world have left her used to being listened to, relied upon. The horrors of war are far less frightening than the horror of ignorance, of tiny uncalloused hands. Or waking in the night remembering the culture, the world she left behind.

Like how:

And Susan is twelve - nearly - thirty.

With small children of her own under her care. She can’t forget the feel of them growing inside her. 

She can’t unlearn the way her ears are always listening for them. Years later she is still celebrating birthdays for people who live only in her memory, only knee high. At night she’d kept awake wondering about the strangers she gave birth too. 

So she keeps trying to forget.

For the boys it is different. But not better:

Peter is thirteen and full of anger. The adults call it puberty. The adults don’t realize the shadow in his eyes is the same shadow in the eyes of returning soldiers. High King Peter, with so many lives under his command now commands nothing, and knows nothing. Responsibility and questions weigh on him. 

But Edmund wakes up one day and realizes that after so many years no stranger can ever go to war with him about a child betraying his family for roses and sugar. His worst mistake weighs only on his mind now. And somehow, it’s this small silver lining that lets him pull their family back from the brink. He is no longer the broken one, no longer haunted by a child he no longer is.

Even so.

The Pevensie’s are adrift in a world of smoke and debris, and the rolling empty countryside. The war here is not fought with swords and fangs, but gas, and fire from above.

A fate worse than death is not being turned to stone. 

There is no Lion coming at the eleventh hour to save them all. No lion except the one they carry inside themselves. 

And that would have to be enough. 

So each Pevensie found a way to matter, to change, to save. 

And a little bit of Aslan crept in around the corners when they needed him most. 

There was a snap and a growl to Lucy her mother had never seen. 

A spine of unyielding stone in Susan. 

A soft listening silence in Edmund. 

And in Peter a flash of fang, and reckless hope. 

The Pevensies are not in Narnia. 

So they took part of it with them. 

on the pevensies’ names

SO there’s something that always bothered me about Susan, and that was: why is she called Susan??? Peter, Edmund and Lucy’s names all have clear significance, but I never could see what about the name ‘Susan’ was important for her character 

UNTIL my last reread of the Chronicles, when I spotted something in VoDT that I couldn’t BELIEVE I’d never noticed before. It’s a HUGE pointer towards what happens with whether Susan eventually returns to her belief or not, and although I’m sure I’m not the first person to have seen it, I can’t remember reading about it in any Susan’s-fate discussions before, so here goes.

Peter, Edmund and Lucy all have names with deep significance. ‘Peter’ means ‘rock’, which is clearly well suited to his role as the ‘rock’ of the family, but perhaps more importantly he’s named after Saint Peter, who in the Bible is something like the rock upon which my church is founded. The Pope sits on ‘the throne of Saint Peter’ as God’s representative on earth (for the catholic church at least), and Peter’s throne is that of the High King (CS Lewis did a little power in Narnia flowchart thing and Peter sits right below Aslan on it I think). plus the whole Peter-and-the-gate-of-heaven thing in LB. 

‘Edmund’ is a two-part name, translating to ‘prosperity’ and ‘protector’. Sure, ‘protector’ is applicable because of his actions against the Witch, but his name is mostly significant because of its use in Shakespeare - in King Lear, Edmund is the name of the Duke of Gloucester’s bastard younger son, who betrays his family to gain power. Shakespeare’s Edmund is never completely redeemed, but he is an ambiguous character who can be played as really awful or quite sympathetic or a bit of both, and he’s got lots of parallels to Narnia’s Edmund.

‘Lucy’ means ‘light’ and hers is pretty straightforward - she shines the light onto the path to Narnia and to Aslan for her family.

But Susan? ‘Susan’ means ‘lily’, and for the longest time I could not for the life of me figure out why that was important. CS Lewis wouldn’t give all the others such significant names and then come to Susan and be like oh well I guess that will do, but I couldn’t find what it was. Sure, lilies are flowers traditionally used at funerals, which is a bleak bit of foreshadowing, but it didn’t seem like enough. 

AND THEN

I was reading VoDT and at the end, when they get close to Aslan’s country, what do they find? A SEA OF

LILIES

and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed this - that the flower on the path to Aslan’s country is the flower Susan is named for. which, combined with the foreshadowing in PC about her returning to Aslan, is a pretty strong hint about her eventual path.

If we also take a look at a compass - the sea of lilies is in the utter east. it’s heavily implied in the Narnia books that Susan’s path away from Narnia starts when she goes to America, which - from England - is a journey west, the opposite way. so Lewis is definitely paying attention to direction here. and to the east, on the pathway to Aslan’s country, he filled it with Susan’s flowers.  

my whole standpoint on the problem of Susan is a bit more complicated, but I think this is a lovely whisper from Lewis about her eventually getting to rejoin her family

life’s too short to be embarrassed you read x reader fan fiction. live ur life and date as many imaginary boys as u want