“I understand. You found paradise in America, you had a good trade, you made a good living. The police protected you and there were courts of law. You didn’t need a friend like me. But, now you come to me, and you say: “Don Corleone, do you support this ship/kink?” But you don’t ask with respect. You don’t offer friendship. You don’t even think to call me Godfather. Instead, you come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married, and you ask me to get involved in your discourse.“
so uh i might have cried into my pint of ice cream at an entire squad of past elphabas and glindas singing For Good together for the Wicked 15th anniversary concert
Rook's Writing 