blood, suits and tears

and everything else

482 notes

the-perks-of-being-crazy:

So I discovered brown-mouse55 on DeviantArt and i just think that everyone should go see his/her page. I like how the drawing lines make me think about Jim’s madness. 

1- Fairy Tales (the details please)
2- Reflection (the title speaks for itself)
3- Hush, Hush (probably my favorite cause I like to imagine that the two silhouettes in the background are Sherlock and John’s ones, looking for Jim, trying to arrest him. I like picturing Jim arguing, he would probably make a scandal about something absurd while Moran would see the two others and would decide to save their lives by making him shut up.)


(via cheshiresden)

Filed under aah I've seen one of those before but they're beautiful <3 otp: asteroids & air rifles

32,359 notes

slavingpeoplesacrificingthings:

thelethifoldwitch:

Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure –
But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.
Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.
Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.
Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured – by their classmates –for having been born.
Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle – but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)
Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.
Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again – the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone – the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?
Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.
Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.
Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes – in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.
Imagine the ghosts.
Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield – it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)
Imagine the students unable to trust each other – everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.
Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.
Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.
Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.
Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.
Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.
Imagine the students who leave the wixen world – hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.
Imagine the students who never use magic again.
(Image source.)
(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)

No.

slavingpeoplesacrificingthings:

thelethifoldwitch:

Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure

But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.

Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.

Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.

Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured by their classmates for having been born.

Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)

Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.

Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?

Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.

Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.

Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.

Imagine the ghosts.

Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)

Imagine the students unable to trust each other everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.

Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.

Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.

Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.

Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.

Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.

Imagine the students who leave the wixen world hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.

Imagine the students who never use magic again.

(Image source.)

(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)

No.

(via flamboyantlycriminal)

2,757 notes


SHERLOCK: S P A C E  A U (verse&#160;» 1, 2)
“the napoleon of crime” they call him. his whispers travel light-years, eventually making their way across planets, moons, and stars. space is a spiderweb and jim moriarty is at its center.

SHERLOCK: S P A C E  A U (verse » 12)

“the napoleon of crime” they call him. his whispers travel light-years, eventually making their way across planets, moons, and stars. space is a spiderweb and jim moriarty is at its center.

(via moriartyn)

111 notes

Do you know what? I’m really happy with the way things are going and I feel very in control, because I’m not 22. It’s not that I’m not ambitious but you get told bullshit as an actor about how you have to build a higher profile, do this and do that… But actually, just do what feels right… I’ve just done Frankenstein, Pride… I mean how much steak can you eat?

I definitely have a dark side; a temper. Particularly with inanimate objects like machinery. I would much prefer to be a good person than a nice person and to be a good person sometimes you have to be bolshie, you have to be a bit angry. You have to say ‘no’. I don’t think there is anything wrong with being angry. Sometimes I think the scariest people are always very ostensibly polite, and always speak slowly even when they’re fuming.

There’s that fear-mongering about what people will accept, what they won’t accept. What people recognize and admire in other people is the authenticity and strength and taste to say what they like. That person is who they are. The worst thing you can do is deny that. I totally believe in people’s right to privacy but there’s a difference between privacy and secrecy. I think it’s very important as an actor to be private because you are playing a lot of roles. But not secretive.

I had a really lovely family and lovely friends. So I was very lucky.

It’s like when people say to me you’re not obviously gay, like there is a right way to be gay and a wrong way to be gay. That’s horrible. People say you’re not authentically gay because it’s obvious, or you’re not authentically gay because it’s obvious, or you’re not authentically gay because it’s NOT obvious…

Andrew Scott in the ATTITUDE interview (via vampire-sweetheart)

(via cheshiresden)

157,099 notes

isolated-animals:

mairelon:

el-hotel-bella-muerte:

insanityisallihavegoingforme:

meanwhileinpurgatory:

no-more-yielding-but-a-dream:

aconsultingblogger:

aidanturnerconfessions:

If you can show me a man that looks better than Richard Armitage in military uniform I will give you my first born

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I see your Tennant and raise you Hiddleston and Cumberbatch

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i see your hiddleston and cumberbatch and raise you ackles

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I acknowledge your Ackles and raise you Rogers

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BAM GERARD WAY

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Have a Sebastian Stan

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(Source: majestickili, via atidbitofwit)

Filed under uniform kink showing damn my military kink is showing oops I have two tags for things like that hmm hnnng