i fixed it

I WILL BE IN THE DAMN NURSING HOME FANGIRLING OVER FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST.

THIS ANIME HAS EVERYTHING.

IT HAS ACTION.

Originally posted by zechs

IT HAS DRAMA.

Originally posted by lifefibersync

IT KNOWS WHEN TO SHOW HAPPINESS.

Originally posted by tsubakinakatsukasa

AND IT KNOWS WHEN TO SHOW SADNESS.

Originally posted by lifefibersync

IT HAS TRIUMPH.

Originally posted by twotheleft

IT HAS LOSS.

Originally posted by pandacea

IT SHOWS THAT A VILLAN CAN BE HEROIC.  

Originally posted by agreeing

IT SHOWS THAT A HERO CAN LOSE CONTROL.

Originally posted by lifefibersync

IT HAS LOVE THAT IS SIMPLE AND PURE.

Originally posted by vale-kirigaya

AND LOVE THAT IS IMPOSSIBLY COMPLICATED.

Originally posted by ariannalhevi21

ULTIMATELY, IT SHOWS THAT WHILE DARKNESS EXISTS…

Originally posted by accidentalgreed

THERE WILL ALWAYS BE LIGHT.

Originally posted by okami-fr

AND I WILL LOVE IT FOREVER. @fullmetal-alchemoist, I fixed it. 

10

MISSING BOOK MOMENTS: Ron Defends Hermione
↳ Prisoner of Azkaban (page 172)

“That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger,“ said Snape coolly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all.”

Hermione went very red, put down her hands, and stared at the floor with her eyes full of tears. It was a mark of how much the class loathed Snape that they were all glaring at him, because every one of them had called Hermione a know-it-all at least once, and Ron, who told Hermione she was a know-it-all at least twice a week, said loudly, “You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don’t want to be told?”

On the desert world of Jedha, in the Holy City, friends Baze and Chirrut…

On the desert world of Jedha, in the Holy City, married couple Baze and Chirrut…

Alibi

The smell of car exhaust, bloody palms,
sparks under your heels when they hit the pavement.  
Swallowing ice, swallowing glass,
tongue curling around cold water
and mirror shards,
grateful for both.

Pour gasoline in your suitcase full of clothes
and remember the smell, heavy and dangerous
and familiar.
Pour gasoline on yourself, too,
and then contemplate
a box of matches.

You wreck your aliases when they
start to look too much like you,
so it’s time for your cyclical
changing of names, changing of faces –
shedding your skin, peeling it off
in strips like bandages –
no time to bury the body, not this time,
but you can still burn the evidence
if you move fast,
baby, if you move
fast.

You dye your hair in the bathroom sink
and watch the color circle down the drain.
I will be your alibi when the cops come,
I will be your right hand man,
I call shotgun in the getaway car if you’re driving,
kick my heels up on the dash and say

Sorry
about the bruises.
Sorry about the skid marks.
Sorry about the ambulance siren
and the broken car radio
and the thing we never said
out loud.

And your fists tighten around the steering wheel.
And I drag my hand down the passenger-side window.
My fingertips leave four trails of smudges
down the pane of glass.

We wash our hands in gas station bathrooms,
but I put your fingers in my mouth
and I still taste copper.
We wash our hands in gas station bathrooms,
but our sleeves and collars are still stained,
and there’s a sticky red smudge beneath your left ear
that I am watching
and trying not to watch.
Your reflection bares his sharpened teeth.
My shadow pulls his hair out by the fistful.

We weren’t built for this, sweetheart,
for this adrenaline rush –
fingers interlocked over the stick shift,
breathing in tandem,
our eyes dead ahead.
Our voices soft and bruised.

I wear your kisses strung together
like pearls on a chain,
but will you smear your mouth
up my jaw, baby?
Will you put on your green fatigues
and carry me back to war?
I can be your shoulder holster,
your guardian angel,
I can spit teeth like bullets,
semi-automatic.
And you can wear another man’s dog tags
around your neck.
I will even call you
by his name.

It’s the same way it’s always been, the same
I owe you, the same
I told you so, the same
Keep breathing, keep your goddamn eyes open – 

And I’m trying, I swear I am –

But wolves are closing in,
paws silent on the sand,
and we know how it feels
when teeth sink into a jugular.
We know the way the skin gives,
and we know that the wolves, unlike us,
will not wince when they taste blood.

Try, you tell me, so I do.
Breathe, you tell me, so I do.
Take my name, here,
take my name and i’ll take yours

you tell me, 
so I do.

And to be honest, my darling,
when they call out to us in the same breath,
oh, my love, my love.
My soldier, 
my grave-robber,
my runaway.

When they call out to us
with both our names,

I can’t tell the difference
between them
anymore.