after tragedy

My dear Sherlockians

A week after the tragedy, you’re still waiting for someone to be kind enough to explain what happened in the Sherlock finale, and instead of getting what you deserve and desperately need, you receive the most outrageous silence and gratuitous heteronormativity.

But remember: you’re smarter, kinder and braver than them.

Don’t be discouraged, make them feel your pain and disappointment with your drawings, manips, words and pictures. Take all this nightmare and transform it into beautiful art. Because Sherlock is not their show, is yours, and this proves it.

It was just a job for them, a job they finished and then forgot about. A job they didn’t even had the courage to finish properly.

But you, you are Sherlockians, you are the fandom, and fandoms are the life of a show, the blood and the passion come from you.

Without you, Sherlock would’ve never been what it is today.

And when you feel tired and hungry for more, you’ll be more than welcome to join us at the table.

We’re here for you.

Fannibals.

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modern shakespeare aesthetics: ophelia, before, during, and after

Out of the ash I rise […]
And I eat men like air.

This is not a minor problem; after the Haiti earthquake in 2010, unsolicited toy donations poured in so hard and fast that they piled up on the tarmac to the point that planes delivering crucial supplies couldn’t land, and volunteers had to waste most of their time dealing with well-intentioned donations instead of actually helping the bleeding quake victims.

We’re not trying to be too hard on these good-hearted people, but it honestly doesn’t take much research to find out what the victims on the ground actually need. It’s almost like people sometimes donate to make themselves feel better, with no thought to what is actually going to solve the problem (spoiler: That is going to be something of a running theme in this piece).

As a result, after any tragedy, approximately 60 percent of your donations are thrown in the garbage for the simple fact that they can’t possibly be utilized. Instead, crisis workers beg you to do the same thing that you do when your nephew or niece has a birthday and you don’t know them well enough to give a personalized gift: send some goddamned money.

6 Side Effects Of Famous Charities That Make Things Worse

So we both sing what we both know

The “Angel of Nashville”, the “Princess of Country-Pop”, that’s what they used to call her. After personal tragedy made her retire from the limelight, however, Clarke Griffin is on her way to becoming a burned-out child star, a has-been. But now, Clarke is ready to return to the stage: With a new band, a new sound, and a new lead guitarist who drives her crazy on stage and off - and helps her write the songs she’s meant to write.

[Read it on ao3]

okay have we ever considered what would happen once ronan grew his dark curly hair back?? 

{be warned: long rambly hc ahead.}


  • 
Adam once casually mentioned that he liked Ronan’s hair. Gansey’s showed him pictures of what Ronan used to look like before he’d shaved his head and he’d commented that he’d barely been able to recognize him, but in like a good way. 

  • So Ronan decides he’s going to allow his hair to grow out again while Adam’s still off at college. 

  • They make time for each other while maneuvering around Adam’s schooling of course, some weekends Ronan will drive up to Adam’s campus or Adam will take a few days off to return to Henrietta to meet Ronan, Opal and the rest of the group. 
  • Gansey’s stunned and silently relieved, feeling like a proud father. He’d never thought he’d encounter the old Ronan again, and this was better than the old Ronan, this was a new and improved Ronan, who’d wrestled tragedy after tragedy and stood triumphant in the wake of each one, not letting it get the best of him. Blue marks it as an improvement and proceeds to nickname him Rapenzul, “Shut the fuck up, Maggot.” “Are you going to let down your hair, princess?” Noah likes to pet his hair just the way he likes to pet Blue’s hair. “So soft,” he’ll say. Ronan only lets him because it’s Noah, although he may or may not threaten to throw him out of more windows. (Yes, I don’t care what happened in TRK, Noah is undead and well, let this boy live okay!!!) 
  • When Adam first sees Ronan with his hair all grown back he actually physically falters bc goddamn does this boy have any idea how crushingly good he looks? ?? 
  • “You… You’re…” Adam doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to muster a cohesive sentence ever again. Adam was used to the Ronan who was all sharpened edges and split knuckles, but the curving ringlets that curled around his ears now and fell over his forehead in drunken midnight tufts made him appear softer, warmer, kinder. It was like seeing the before-image of a burnt photograph. It was like a fairytale filter version of him. Adam can’t help but see an uncanny resemblance between Ronan and those effortlessly handsome young war hero portraits. 
  • “Stop staring, Shithead. It’s a fucking wig.” Ronan says, because that starstruck look in Adam’s eyes is doing things to him. 
  • Adam is suddenly overcome with the sweeping urge to run his hands through it. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate running his hands over Ronan’s buzzed head or the Ronan that he’d known before. He’d loved Ronan just like he loved Gansey, Blue and Noah even back when he carried himself like a vicious python, all spitfires and bloodied lips, even when he was getting drunk every single night and trying to fight the moon. Adam wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but there’d been something ethereally enticing about him even when he was this self-destructive drag racer that Adam had been so afraid to fall and cut himself on. 
  • But the Ronan Lynch that Adam fell in love with was another boy completely. He was the dreamer who dreamed up EpiPens for his friend and hand cream for Adam’s chapped hands and performed secret handshakes with his little brother and wanted to spend the rest of his life at his family farm and who pressed his lips ever-so-gently to each one of Adam’s fingers like they were dandelion stems. 
  • All his life, Adam had felt broken and delicate, but for the first time, he felt glad for his nimble fingers, his turbulent history, to be Adam Parrish, the chipped teacup boy, because Ronan made him feel loved and wanted and appreciated, because Ronan felt everything so strongly, and there were still nights Adam was filled with gratitude for being the brunt of Ronan’s desire. 
  • So they make the drive up to the Barns in silence, Ronan asks him about how college’s been and Adam tells him all about the university Ronan wouldn’t be caught dead in and catches that proud glint in his eyes when he admits he recently got offered a TA position. “So now you’re nerding your way up to the nerdom throne. Good for you, Parrish.” They talk about Gansey, Blue and Henry’s trip to Venezuela and how Opal’s been helping Ronan build his dream ramp and chewing on all the curtains. The minute they step out of the car and into the house however, Adam can’t help himself anymore, he pins Ronan against a wall and regales him with firm, heated kisses before dipping his hands into Ronan’s hair. It’s even softer than he’d imagined, and he’d been tugging distractedly at his lip and staring out the window the entire ride, imagining a lot. 
  • Ronan’s overwhelmed but they’ve been apart for weeks and feeling the hot, reassuring weight of Adam’s lips and hips against his again, and with his long, pianist’s fingers gruffly tugging at Ronan’s hair, his thoughts upend and bottom out and all he can think is let’s never fucking stop kissing. yeah. let’s kiss until we fucking die.
  • Later when they’re laying down in bed, Adam loops his fingers in Ronan’s hair again, raking through it delightedly, and Ronan lets out a quiet sigh. 
  • “It feels weird,” Ronan then admits. “I’m not that person anymore.” Adam wanted to tell Ronan that no, he wasn’t that person anymore, but he was more whole than he’d been in a long time. He wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to fool people into thinking he was this awful, intimidating presence anymore. He wanted to tell him that it would be okay if he just let the world see him for what he really was. That he wasn’t the wolf in the henhouse, but neither of them were ever very good at words, so he just pushes a little bit of his hair back and presses a kiss to Ronan’s temple instead. “Well, I like the person you are now.”
  • “Do you think it kills my badass edge?” 
  • “What badass edge?”
  • Ronan presses a hand into Adam’s chest and playfully shoves him backwards at that, before helping him out of his t-shirt and biting into his shoulder.
  • Ronan’s thinking he might never shave his head ever again.

fecipher twitter, 16-11-2016: “Gentle Light, Lucius”

[Card Reveal] Lucius was once a vassal to the noble house known as Cornwell. However, after a tragedy brought an end to the house, he became a wanderer along with its eldest son, Raymond. Enshrouded by the beautiful, mighty radiance of the light magic which he wields, he repels those who have wronged his master. (Illust. Maki Hakoda)

anonymous asked:

If that trip happens, im gonna feel hmm what should i feel? Its more then mad, more then angry mayb angrier. Lol. Bcause how dare they make him do it, he clearly stop caring about stunt girl esp after the tragedy. Like ok im gonna chill and smoke bong now. Ok chill im chillin.

Literally. If this trip happens, the obviousness of it all makes sure to be that we all know it wasn’t planned. He is with his family. At a time where family time is the most important. If her fuck up takes him anywhere further than London, I will never speak of her or support her.

Because if you look at this whole situation as them being in a relationship, even the timing of it all, it should make you extremely uncomfortable. Any moves now, outside of the UK, to confirm their relationship should make you uncomfortable, it should make you angry. 

If it doesn’t, then you don’t really care about Louis as much you cry to say you do. Because cleaning up the image that his girlfriend is cheating on him, thousands of miles away from you family, is unhealthy. If she didn’t cheat on him as they say. That’s Louis taking her burden on because he feels like he should, but in a healthy relationship, the burden of keeping Louis away from his family, only to gain the best set of circumstances to help her… that’s unhealthy and a one sided relationship, where one person supports the other, and the other person expects to be supported. 

That’s not healthy or secure. That’s unbalanced. 

And from my own perspective, thinking that they’ve never been in a relationship, it’s disgusting. Putting Louis in a situation where he has to leave his grieving family to clean up his beard’s messy actions, well. She can cry 37 ways to Sunday if she thinks that I will even breathe her name when this is all said and done. Any project she touches will be adamantly ignored from me.

4

Nᴏɪʀ (Cɪɴᴇᴍᴀ Vᴇʀ.pt1)

Le Noir: Before the tragedy, is you; the person with courage and justice. After the tragedy there is you, the new you, a strong one, then… in the tragedy who are you? Show me a hero and I’ll write you a tragedy.

Fermata: Do you see the phrase in the poster? I saw the same phrase in a gif compilation of an user, but now I don’t remember who is user, do you know who is him/her? Please, tag him/her. I dedicate this poster for the user(:

Ribbon In The Sky: I inspired in this with ‘Rogue One’ People will fight as crazy for justice. They’ll fight for the things they belive and respect…for make someone be proud, for the memory of someone… for peace.

Pray: Hope you can recognize Yongguk & Zelo’s photos, I took from japanese album and I think that they don’t look the same as always (?) Anyway, the concept I wanted to express was that Yongguk&Zelo are the ‘demons’ inside the girl, who can’t leave her.

don’t tell me this story again, i’ve heard it before
and it always ends the same way: two broken bodies
laid to rest in silence. my mouth still burns
from swallowing your poisonous tragedies
one after another. i’ve grown sick of this.
tell me a love story instead. two girls holding hands
in a crowded hallway. two trembling hearts
growing wings and beating the same rhythm:
i-love-you-i-love-you-i-love-you.
—  STOP BURYING YOUR GAYS | check out my chapbook UNMYTHOLOGIZE!

Originally posted by keepingupwithbts

“It’s just that I can’t believe you’re wearing my clothes”


Tragedy after tragedy occurred during the day. Your job had given you as much hell as your school day had and you had managed, barely. Tears streamed down your face as you undressed yourself, making your way into your apartment, then into your bedroom. They weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of aggravation and frustration. This day was the cherry on top of a week of nothing but hell. Nothing had gone right and you were exhausted, ready to crawl into bed and sob.

However, as you brought Namjoon’s sweater over your head, your cell phone began to ring and you groaned. The scent of Namjoon made your chest tighten. You hadn’t been able to spend enough time with him for the past weeks. He had his schedule and you had your own, only making things worse because the last thing you wanted was for your relationship to go down the drain.

So with hot cheeks and warm tears, you found your cellphone and answered. Namjoon’s voice bled through the line and you automatically began to cry harder. The concern in his tone so evident it made you regret answering in the first place. In a matter of seconds, he stated he was on his way, leaving no room for you to refuse through your painful migraine and hiccups.


When Namjoon arrived, he knocked at your door, even though he knew for a fact you had left it unlocked for him to step right in. When a few seconds passed and you did not come to open it, Namjoon frowned and slowly stepped inside. He searched for you throughout the living room and kitchen but you were nowhere to be found. He called for your name softly as he made his way into your bedroom.

As soon as he peeked inside, he saw you huddled under a blanket. Curled up with your knees hugged to your chest, eyes puffy with dry tears. Namjoon sighed and waved at you slowly, a sympathetic smirk on his lips. Your eyes met his blankly and his smirk faltered, “Come here” he said, his voice soft as he neared the edge of your bed. You quickly crawled towards him, abandoning your blanket and replacing its warmth with Namjoon’s arms around you.

You buried your face into his coat and let out a shuddering breath as his scent filled your lungs, making you hold him tighter. Namjoon reciprocated and kissed the top of your head, rubbing small circles with his thumbs on your arms. After a few minutes, he pulled away and cupped your cheeks. He took a second to look at you and suddenly grinned. You furrowed your eyebrows in puzzlement and pulled away, “If you’re here to make fun of my crap state then-” you started but he quickly cut you off, “No! Not at all! It’s just… I hadn’t seen that sweater in ages” he chuckled.

Your eyes widened in realization as you looked down at your outfit sheepishly. “And my sweats- I didn’t even remember I once owned those” he pointed at your legs and grinned. You chuckled lightly and crawled off the bed to stand in front of him, his fingers intertwined with your own. “I had a shitty day… and I hadn’t seen you so…” you said lowly, your voice slightly groggy. Namjoon smiled, “It’s just that, I can’t believe you’re wearing my clothes” he said, pulling you close so he could hug you once again.

“I’m sorry it’s what it has come to since I’m hardly around” he added, his breath on your neck as you circled your arms around his. You shook your head and he pulled away to peck your cheek, “You’re here now” you said, your eyes teary as you brought him close once more and smelled his cologne. Whether it was his clothes or him, as long as you had either one, it gave you a glimpse of a silver lining, even if your life wasn’t exactly at bliss. 

aw man rest in peace carrie fisher :-((( i’m so sad fuck 2016 for real like its been relentless with tragedy after tragedy can you let us take a breath damn

The Dream of the Foundling

Summary: After tragedy strikes the kingdom of Agora, Prince James is faced with impossible task of finding a suitor for himself. Which only becomes ten times harder when he falls for his servant.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader (kinda slow burn atm)
Warnings: I don’t really think there’s any?
Word Count: 1,151
Author’s Note: GUYYYSSSSSSSS!!!! I’m so excited I really hope you guys like this so far. I mean I’m that excited I made a storybook like header for it. I did try something a little different with my writing I hope it’s okay. {not my gif}

|| NEXT PART

Keep reading

He knows. He always does.

Marion isn’t a human being. No one knows who he is or where did he come from. But one thing is clear: he can use magic and he knows about everything. He can’t see the future tho, but he knows the past.
When Golden suddenly disappeared after the tragedy in the pizzeria, Marion was the only one who knew what really happened to him.