why was there no funeral

anonymous asked:

i don't understand why the fandom loves draco and pansy so much. they're racist. it's in the books. i get the whole "redemption arc" but why not admire other characters like regulus

read out this ask at my funeral tbh


Scorpius: Come to the funeral.
Albus: Of course.
Scorpius: And be my good friend.

- Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Act 1 Scene 4


“Assume his father was just as dark as you say, but was unable to murder his own son, assume he found a way to secret Thomas away from London…“

“He didn’t.”

  • Dan: Um Tom why are you dressed in all black?
  • Tom: I'm going to a funeral
  • Dan: But no one we know has died?
  • Tom: Does gay Draco Malfoy ring a bell? You know the disaster that no one took the time to recognise? I mean you should really think before you speak Dan
  • My Mom, Watching Riverdale: So is Archie dating Veronica? I didn't realize Jughead and Betty dated in the comics? Whose funeral is this? Was it a murder? Why is she wearing white to a funeral? Why is that woman touching Archie's hair so inappropriately? Were they secretly related? Why a snake in a box? Do you think Betty's father could be the murderer? Where is the sister? There are so many secrets!
  • My Dad, Watching Riverdale: So that girl is in love with her dead twin brother?????
TF2 fic idea #2

What if Respawn had no range, and was not shut down? Just think of the post-war scenarios. 

Imagine Spy getting killed in one of his missions, making his enemies feel like they’ve gotten rid of their problem. Then Spy comes back a WEEK AFTER looking hella pissed off and rambling about how far New Mexico is. 

Imagine the Medic needing to escape his enemies but getting caught. All he needed to do was shoot himself and reappear in Respawn. The government would note that he committed suicide, though. 

Imagine the Scout getting killed in an alley or during hazing, then meeting up with the Doc in New Mexico, who was busy making fake papers with fake info about him.

Imagine the Doc agreeing to go with Scout back to Boston, so that the lad would have an excuse as to why he was still alive and kicking.

Imagine the Scout crashing his own funeral.

“Wow doc would ya look at that? There’s a buncha people in my house! Are they havin’ a party without me?”

“Herr Scout, this does not look like a party.”

“They went with some emo theme too! Almost everyone’s wearin’ black!”

“Herr Scout, listen to me! It vould be best if ve vould leave for now and come back - “

“Oh look there’s my ma! HEY MA! LEMME HELP YA PASS DOSE FLOWEHS!”


I keep starting and deleting posts about what I’m writing because I’m feeling lost and blocked and stuck and lonely and disconnected, but also am convinced that nobody wants to hear about any of it, so anyway, that’s a highly effective way of wasting a ton of time it turns out. 

Bodhi in this A/U is turning out really really sad and it’s just awesome because I was trying to write fluff. 

He stalked [his sister’s] Facebook, but she’d locked it down when her older kid started kindergarten. Fortunately he’d saved the photo of her first day, her in pigtails holding a sign that said “First Day Of School!” and her little brother holding one that said “I Wanted A Sign Too”, and he had it in his phone still, but ever since then her page had displayed nothing beyond her profile picture, cropped from a photo Bodhi himself had taken of her at her wedding with the fancy camera he used to own.

Keep reading


HER name was Leelah. SHE was a beautiful girl. SHE was misgendered by the people who should have accepted HER for who SHE was. How is it that everyone else in the world could accept who she wanted to be apart from her parents, why couldn’t they have accepted her as a daughter at her funeral and buried her in a dress, nOT A FUCKING SUIT.

Friendly reminder that we had:

  • Andrew Lincoln say taking Noah to Richmond was ‘the only physical way we could honor Beth
  • Emily (a year+ later) saying the group had to get out of Atlanta quickly when confronted about why Beth didn’t get a funeral…but yet having no explanation about what happened to her body
  • A very quick, random, seemingly needless clip of the group running to cars in the episode just after Beth’s “death” plus
  • A time jump between Coda & WHAWGO (which is still an incredibly apt title for all this that I wouldn’t put past Gimple to have completely done on purpose)
Conversations (Philip Hamilton x Reader)

Words: 656

Prompt: None, I just thought I’d write this :)

Warnings: Mentions of death, angst (I was getting emotional while writing this)

A/N: Didn’t proofread, extra short, but I just wrote it on a whim. Thank you for reading!

Y/N sits in a room, across from her best friend’s father, Alexander Hamilton. 

Alexander Hamilton: I did not know that you were courting my son, Miss…?

You: Y/N, Mr. Hamilton. And I was not courting him, we were best friends.

Alexander Hamilton: Then you must have known that he was dueling with Mr. George Eacker.

You: Yes, I did, sir. And he told me that you were the one who gave him the guns.

Hamilton is silent for a few moments, staring at the young woman. She stares him down.

Alexander Hamilton: Why did you not come to the funeral? Did you know that he was shot?

This time, Hamilton stared Y/N down. She was shaking, wearing a black dress.

You: Philip told me to stay away from the dueling ground. He knew that I would try to stop it as soon as heard of the idea. When he was visiting my home, he locked me in one of the rooms. He must have known that was the only room that needed a key from the outside. My family was going to be gone for a few days.

Hamilton looked shocked.

Alexander Hamilton: He left you without food?

You: No, he left food in the room. I’m sorry, sir, but I do not know why you are asking me these questions.

Alexander Hamilton: He left you a letter, Miss Y/N.

Hamilton placed the letter in front of Y/N. She was hesitated, scared of what it might say inside. Hamilton touched her hand, encouraging her. She sighed, opening the letter.

My Dearest, Y/N,

I am writing this letter to you to express how I felt, just in the instance that I did not survive the duel with George Eacker. As I am writing this, I think of the times we have spent together. I remember the day we first met, at the theatre with your family. You were very shy and reserved, not daring to even look my way. I remember the way you smiled at my poor attempts to make you laugh.

Oh, how I cannot forget that beautiful smile.

We immediately became best of friends. Our letters sent back and forth week after week show how much we care for each other. I don’t believe you ever noticed the small hints I was sending you.

Y/N, I am in love with you. Your wit, your intelligence, your quirkiness, your beauty; it consumes my every waking breath. I was too timid and afraid to tell you this in person, so I have settled with just being the shoulder you leaned on. Y/N, I cannot imagine my life without you. You mean the world to me. If I ever get the chance, I hope to marry you one day. As I am writing this, my hands are shaking.

I agreed to this battle to protect the Hamilton name, to defend my father. But now, I do not want to fight anymore. I want to end the dispute. For my future with you, Y/N. I have dug myself into a hole, and am unable to climb out of it.

I will try my hardest to stay alive. To come back to you. But since you are reading this letter, I’m not there. I left the one love of my life to mourn my death. Even right now, before the battle, I hate that I left you alone. But you’re stronger than you know, Y/N. You will get through this, you will marry the man of your dreams one day, and I will be more than happy to see this for you.

I’ll see you on the other side.

Yours until the end of time,

Philip Hamilton

Alexander Hamilton: Are you alright, Miss Y/N?

Y/N stayed silent for several moments, her tears staining the paper in front of her. She looked away, wiping the liquid off her face.

You: I’m sorry sir, I have so much work to do.