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Male Characters written by women >>>>>>>>>>>>

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Please make a post about the story of the RMS Carpathia, because it's something that's almost beyond belief and more people should know about it.

Carpathia received Titanic’s distress signal at 12:20am, April 15th, 1912. She was 58 miles away, a distance that absolutely could not be covered in less than four hours.

(Californian’s exact position at the time is…controversial. She was close enough to have helped. By all accounts she was close enough to see Titanic’s distress rockets. It’s uncertain to this day why her crew did not respond, or how many might not have been lost if she had been there. This is not the place for what-ifs. This is about what was done.)

Carpathia’s Captain Rostron had, yes, rolled out of bed instantly when woken by his radio operator, ordered his ship to Titanic’s aid and confirmed the signal before he was fully dressed. The man had never in his life responded to an emergency call. His goal tonight was to make sure nobody who heard that fact would ever believe it.

All of Carpathia’s lifeboats were swung out ready for deployment. Oil was set up to be poured off the side of the ship in case the sea turned choppy; oil would coat and calm the water near Carpathia if that happened, making it safer for lifeboats to draw up alongside her. He ordered lights to be rigged along the side of the ship so survivors could see it better, and had nets and ladders rigged along her sides ready to be dropped when they arrived, in order to let as many survivors as possible climb aboard at once.

I don’t know if his making provisions for there still being survivors in the water was optimism or not. I think he knew they were never going to get there in time for that. I think he did it anyway because, god, you have to hope.

Carpathia had three dining rooms, which were immediately converted into triage and first aid stations. Each had a doctor assigned to it. Hot soup, coffee, and tea were prepared in bulk in each dining room, and blankets and warm clothes were collected to be ready to hand out. By this time, many of the passengers were awake–prepping a ship for disaster relief isn’t quiet–and all of them stepped up to help, many donating their own clothes and blankets.

And then he did something I tend to refer to as diverting all power from life support.

Here’s the thing about steamships: They run on steam. Shocking, I know; but that steam powers everything on the ship, and right now, Carpathia needed power. So Rostron turned off hot water and central heating, which bled valuable steam power, to everywhere but the dining rooms–which, of course, were being used to make hot drinks and receive survivors. He woke up all the engineers, all the stokers and firemen, diverted all that steam back into the engines, and asked his ship to go as fast as she possibly could. And when she’d done that, he asked her to go faster.

I need you to understand that you simply can’t push a ship very far past its top speed. Pushing that much sheer tonnage through the water becomes harder with each extra knot past the speed it was designed for. Pushing a ship past its rated speed is not only reckless–it’s difficult to maneuver–but it puts an incredible amount of strain on the engines. Ships are not designed to exceed their top speed by even one knot. They can’t do it. It can’t be done.

Carpathia’s absolute do-or-die, the-engines-can’t-take-this-forever top speed was fourteen knots. Dodging icebergs, in the dark and the cold, surrounded by mist, she sustained a speed of almost seventeen and a half.

No one would have asked this of them. It wasn’t expected. They were almost sixty miles away, with icebergs in their path. They had a respondibility to respond; they did not have a responsibility to do the impossible and do it well. No one would have faulted them for taking more time to confirm the severity of the issue. No one would have blamed them for a slow and cautious approach. No one but themselves.

They damn near broke the laws of physics, galloping north headlong into the dark in the desperate hope that if they could shave an hour, half an hour, five minutes off their arrival time, maybe for one more person those five minutes would make the difference. I say: three people had died by the time they were lifted from the lifeboats. For all we know, in another hour it might have been more. I say they made all the difference in the world.

This ship and her crew received a message from a location they could not hope to reach in under four hours. Just barely over three hours later, they arrived at Titanic’s last known coordinates. Half an hour after that, at 4am, they would finally find the first of the lifeboats. it would take until 8:30 in the morning for the last survivor to be brought onboard. Passengers from Carpathia universally gave up their berths, staterooms, and clothing to the survivors, assisting the crew at every turn and sitting with the sobbing rescuees to offer whatever comfort they could.

In total, 705 people of Titanic’s original 2208 were brought onto Carpathia alive. No other ship would find survivors.

At 12:20am April 15th, 1912, there was a miracle on the North Atlantic. And it happened because a group of humans, some of them strangers, many of them only passengers on a small and unimpressive steam liner, looked at each other and decided: I cannot live with myself if I do anything less.

I think the least we can do is remember them for it.

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these violent delights

have violent ends

and in their triumph die,

like fire and powder,

which, as they kiss, consume.

william shakespeare

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Hi! Saw you guys got Wildest Dreams trending on tiktok, thought you should have my version 😘😘😘😘

http://taylor.lnk.to/wildestdreamsTV

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Something I’ve learned recently is that you can’t be grieving all the time.

That may sound obvious, but I feel like if you asked me, “How do you tell someone just lost someone close to them?” the answers are like Acts very sad, not taking care of themselves, not smiling or laughing, etc.

And that’s just… not true. It’s impossible to be wracked with grief 24/7. It really just does come in waves. And in between those waves, you often just act like your normal self.

Which can be odd to see, let alone go through. It’s tempting to ask yourself, “Why am I not sad?” but you are. You just can’t be outwardly expressing it all the time without exhausting yourself.

Grief is a marathon, not a sprint.

[write-your-story-among-the-stars]

Fanfiction isn’t written for you, it’s shared with you.

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im not even joking rn this fucking painting made me start uncontrollably sobbing. Do you know how long it took to paint? How expensive it was? The cat was content for hours and so loved that the girl held him there and paid for him to be painted with her. Imagine having such a bond… imagine being so loved and loving so much back…

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Sirius Black hated women

Sirius Black hated women. In his perception, they were evil, manipulative, cruel. Walburga Black made him suffer like no one did, and he blamed women for it. It was their fault, he believed.

But then he though about Andromeda. She was his favourite cousin. She laughed at his jokes and listened to him talking about his passions, because she knew no one else did. She let him play with her stuff and teached him some spells even if he hadn’t a wand yet. She told him Gryffindors were a great house when he wrote to her, after he had received an owl by his parents on his first day at Hogwarts. She set an example to him. She made him realize that he had options, that he didn’t have to be like them.

Maybe, not every woman was bad.

Then, professor McGonagall became his teacher. She was the first professor who noticed that Sirius wasn’t like the rest of his family. She stopped calling him Mr Black, because she noticed how is muscles contracted when she did that. She never wrote to his parents about his detentions. She laughed when he dressed up as Dumbledore for Halloween. She called him in his office and offered him a biscuit when she knew Sirius was now at the Potters.

Maybe, not every woman was like his mother.

Then, Euphemia Potter accepted him. She welcomed him in their house. She made his bed every morning and she made him breakfast when he woke up. She hugged him when he cried for his brother and she called him son. She cared about him just the same way she cared about James.

Maybe, not everyone was like his mother.

Then, he met Lily, and at first he was pretty sure he hated her. But he didn’t. Lily made sure he did his homework and corrected it when he asked. She talked with him about their siblings. She hugged him when he noticed the Dark Mark on Regulus’ arm. She helped him organizing James’ birthday party. She made his best friend happy. She told Sirius that it was okay to make mistakes.

Maybe he didn’t hate women.

And then he fell in love with Marlene McKinnon. She brought sunshine into his life. She kissed him in the morning and she hugged him tigh when he came back home. She wiped his tears. She smiled at him when he woke up. She was able to let him understand that everyone deserves love. She saw how broken he was, but she didn’t try to make him ignore his memories, but helped him dealing with them. She held his hand when war became real and she was there for him when Regulus died. She saw his scars and healed his heart. She made him feel loved. She loved him. And he loved her, with every bit of his heart.

No, Sirius Black didn’t hate women.

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Bust of Medusa by Daniele Danko Angelozzi, 2020

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Yoshie Kakimoto / Tetsuhiro Wakabayashi / Ulla Thynell / Chuck Groenink

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also blackinnon i don’t take criticism

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alright let’s talk about something. peter pettigrew. the man was not a saint. you can’t apologise for him. you just can’t. even if he was misunderstood, it still doesn’t excuse him literally fucking BETRAYING not only his friends but their toddler as well. yea maybe he wasn’t as close to them but still???? i’m literally rambling but i’m so mad. so not only did he betray the friends who literally put their life in his hands but he then proceeded to frame Sirius for not only jily’s murder but for the murder of several muggles all the while hiding like the rat he is. his actions, every single thing that he did tore the marauders. not only did Sirius have to suffer from dementors for 12, 13 years? but remus lupin was forced to question his literal soulmate and was forced to hate him for what his friends had to go through. peter’s actions led to remus lupin once again being completely alone after having experienced true friendship for seven years and having it fall apart in a matter of seconds. peter pettigrew then continues to serve the dark lord and HAS THE FUCKING GALL TO ASK FOR SIRIUS AND REMUS’ FORGIVENESS!!! he nearly gets harry killed twice and is the major participant in voldemort’s resurrection. In conclusion, peter pettigrew was a dick and there is no justification for his actions p.s; someone just reminded me that peter also KILLED MURDERED CEDRIC. man didn’t let anyone live

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someone was asked if they had ever fallen in love and it got me thinking. thinking about the concept of love. and whether i would want it. i hope i fall in love someday. a happy fulfilling sort of love, not the tragic kind for i know i couldn’t bear the pain. i truly want a love that gives me goosebumps along every crevice, every bump of my skin. i want an all-consuming, all-ending love that is so deep and so strong that the rest of the world fades before it and it’s just us. i want an incandescent love that rips my soul apart- in a good way. i want the kind of love that the characters i adore have. the kind where you can feel another person’s pain, their joy, their melancholy, their euphoria and they can feel yours. a kind of love where a mere look says more than all the words in the world could. i want a love where i can feel safe. i want love to feel like home, a warm hearth that every essence of my being revolves around. i hope i do love and that i am loved. because it is a beautiful thing. to think of one person constantly, to have them be a part of you until you feel you would be unable to breathe if they weren’t near you. i want to be loved for who i am. i want someone to tell me that the scars on my body, the rolls of my belly, the hugeness of my arms make me even more beautiful. i want a love that makes me blush because of how kind, thoughtful and soft it is. if i find love i want to be content. i don’t want tragic unrequited love where i am left alone with my feelings. i don’t want a replay of champagne problems. i want a constant state of willow where there is a person that makes me so happy i feel i could spontaneously combust into tiny atoms. i truly hope i find a love like this because what is life without it? i want a romance. a romance of a lifetime that will never fade. maybe i’ve read too much poetry, watched too many films but this is my heart. and i hope against hope it is fulfilled. - excerpts from strange, like i knew who i was once

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Mary Oliver, from “The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac”, Blue Horses

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“Eye contact is a dangerous, dangerous thing. But lovely. God, so lovely.”

— Hedonist Poet

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“The light of a candle

is transferred to another candle—

spring twilight”

- Yosa Buson

- Yosa Buson