just ignore me

JW: …So why did you want me to wear my uniform again?

SH: *slightly distracted* .. well, explaining it would take too long, John. It’s for a case, obviously!

Entry for #letsdrawsherlock: Alternative Fashion Styles!
(John wearing a uniform similar to Major James Sholto’s)


I just can’t believe the loveliness of loving you.

The Marauders actually kill me because, in the end, they were just four friends who wanted to be heroes and the world utterly tore them to pieces.

Like the majority of the fandom portrays them either as perfect gods or evil assholes, but why can’t we just accept that they were people, people with good points and bad, people who were flawed but tried to do the right thing, people who could’ve lived happily ever after if a war hadn’t come and ripped them to shreds?

Their story is so tragic because they were so real, like James, stupid loyal trusting James, is dead at the age of twenty-one because he trusts too much. Because even though he’s grown up in, and fought in, a war, a war that involves his schoolmates trying to kill him and even though he knows for a fact that someone close to him has been reporting on his movements, he still can’t even conceive that the people he loves would ever turn on him and it winds up getting his family killed. Fiction loves to tell us that trust and love and loyalty will save us and instead they were the one thing that completely undid James Potter.

Keep reading

I cast a glance about the bedroom. No windows, no exits save the one I’d just been chucked through. The bed was enormous and neatly made, its black sheets of - of silk. There was nothing else in the room beyond basic furniture; not even discarded clothes or weapons. As if its occupant never slept here.

Feyre, describing Rhysand’s bedroom Under the Mountain, Chapter 38, ACTOAR

Okay, but can we just talk about this for a few minutes because in light of ACOMAF, it’s BREAKING MY HEART.

No windows, no exits: Rhysand knows EXACTLY how Feyre felt when Tamlin trapped her inside her Spring Court manor. It’s one thing to not be able to leave, but can you imagine not having so much as a freaking window?? Even being “under the mountain” for there to be no light at all, no source of “outside” or “beyond.” Feyre notes upon entering that the room is “massive, dark… lit only by a few candles” plus a fireplace. So not only did Amarantha stick him in his own personal prison cell, she took away any source of light that would give him some form of hope.

Nothing else in the room beyond basic furniture: my goodness, what did he do to pass time?? Surely he wasn’t with Amarantha every waking moment of the day or scheming every second. Even Feyre had books to read while Tamlin ignored her. Like what did my poor smol baby do to pass time and keep from going insane?!???

As if its occupant never slept here: This is perhaps the worst part of all. Amarantha gives Rhys a room - the most dark, dingy, depressing, lifeless room void of feeling and belonging - and then essentially takes it away from him by keeping him from it. He had no home, not even a small space for himself. Most of us are lucky enough to have a physical location or shelter within our homes and lives to run to when we need time to ourselves. Our bedrooms are supposed to be a safe space. Even freaking Feyre had HER OWN ROOM to retreat to because Tamlin was that much of a tool to want to marry her and stay in another part of the house. Rhysand didn’t even have that much. He had nothing and he had that nothing for FIFTY FREAKING YEARS with that whoreface stealing his bed every single night.