#Conversations with John Anderson

[cheezy-whizz]

Charlie Dalton:

[foreverknightalways]

At "The Raven, Schanke is having a conversation with Janette and says to her, I mean, normally, I -- I -- I don't go snooping around people's places. I want you to know that. It's just that being cooped up in here...You see, I am what is referred to as a man of action. You see, Janet--

[shion-ah]

Death of me

Cillian Murphy as Thomas Fucking Shelby

"Do you honestly think I could ever forget?"

Hayley Atwell as Katherine Redwine

"Christ...just tell him or I will."

Annabelle Wallis as Grace Burgess

"Is that jealousy I hear?"

Joe Cole as John Shelby

"You'll always be a Shelby never get that."

Paul Anderson as Arthur Shelby

"Don't worry luv, we got you. Who do I gotta kill?"

Sophie Rundle as Ada Shelby

"You've always been there for me, of course I'll be here for you."

Helen McCrory as Polly Grey

"Us women are smarter. Now chin up, we have a job to do."

Chapter One

The air of Small Heath seemed to have a way of sticking to your skin or clothing. It left you feeling almost sticky and sweaty from the grim that would collect no matter how careful you chose to be. The people had grown used to such things and one could never be too precious about their clothing. Children seemed to run wild with their dogs and friends, men in the factories returning home covered in soot and the women trying to keep their homes cleaned to the best of their ability. Katherine Redwine had been brought up on Watery Lane and in her young mind, she believed that this was always going to be the case. “Kat, are you listening?” The annoyed voice of Ada rang through her ears pulling her attention away from the window. “Yes, of course. You were saying?” Katherine gave her friend a smile and lifted her cup of tea to her lips. It was rare that the two girls got moments like this and she didn’t mean to waste her time lost in the clouds. Ada watched Katherine with a sad smile of her own. Since the war Katherine hadn’t been the same, which she supposed was the common saying amongst the rest of the world. “I was saying that I think it is time that we get you back out there. You are a beautiful girl and I know anyone would be lucky to have you.” Ada leaned forward in her chair and crossed her ankles. “He wouldn’t want you to live like this. Pat-” “I’m alright I promise, I am just not ready. There’s still too much to do right now.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Since the men had come back home it had been a hard adjustment for her. First her brother had been killed and the man she had loved for most of her life had simply turned his back and had barely spoken a full sentence to her. And now that same man seemed to have found more trouble as if he had been fishing for it. Katherine shook her head placing the cup down back on the table giving the young Shelby woman’s hand a small squeeze. “But in the meantime I look forward to hearing all about how sweet and kind Freddie is.” At the mention of Freddie Thorne, Ada's cheeks began to flush, the usual reaction when the man was pulled into the conversation or whenever Ada told her friend of the latest escapades the two had gotten into. Katherine watched as Ada continued to talk about how much she loved Freddie and the latest times they had to meet up in secret, the forbidden romance felt like a dream she had had once. She had been so young when she first met him but those blue eyes of Thomas Shelby would forever haunt her. She was sure she would die with the image of his eyes, his smile permanently imprinted into her thoughts. She had been so angry with him, the sting of her slap across his face still stung her hand when she thought about it for too long. Of course when she had heard of what he found she wanted to try to knock some sense into him. 

And now she had a sinking feeling in her gut that felt like it was growing larger and larger each time she tried to swallow. Leave it to the most clever man she knew to bring down the eye of the government, the IRA, and god knows who else by finding and taking those guns. 

Thomas fucking Shelby. 

Those words rang in her mind when her man had told her, they rang when she confronted Charlie Strong and Curly. And once she had left Ada making her way down the street and heard of his stunt with the Chinese in a show to gather more bets. Any time she had tried to tell Thomas that he was getting into things he had no business doing, he would tell her that it “wasn’t women’s business” and would drop it at that, leaving Katherine to stare at him in a mix of frustration and continued heartache. 

Katherine began to make her way to the Garrison pub for her usual one drink with Harry giving a small nod and smile to the people she passed and in return would gain her own “Mrs. Shelby” greeting. She had grown numb to the nickname and had given up on correcting those that continued to use it and she decided to see it as a type of shield. No one fucked with the Peaky Blinders and the Shelby name went a long way in Small Heath. If Thomas had taught her anything it was to appear as calm and unbothered as possible when inside you just want to shoot something, or rather someone.

“Welcome in my lady, your usual?” Harry said, placing a glass down on the bar once Katherine had entered. She made her way to the middle of the bar and took her usual seat. “Yes please, Harry.” Katherine gave the older man a kind smile and glanced about the pub. The usual bar flies were about four glasses in and only acknowledged her with a simple nod or not at all. “How have you been Harry? Haven’t been given any trouble have you?”

“None, miss. Mostly the occasional drunkard fight but it ends well enough.” Harry placed the Irish whiskey down for the Redwine and leaned on the bar top. “You look as if you need a good drink and a good sleep.” Katherine huffed a laughed at her friend’s words and shrugged taking a sip from the amber liquid. “Don’t I always look this way?” She teased tilting her head. She had always enjoyed Harry’s company; he was kind in his own way and cared for the Garrison like it should have been. This was home and he had taken care of her when she had gotten so drunk she hadn’t been able to stand and he made sure that she would never reach that low again. He had made Katherine promise to not lose herself in her grief or heartbreak. He had been the father figure that she needed after Patrick had been killed. 

“Kat, don’t bullshit me.” Harry shook his head. Katherine spun her glass slightly, his gentle but stern tone was comforting in a sense. It was the same tone he had when he found her in the private room that Thomas always used. She had broken down and cried in Harry’s arms and was more whiskey than person and she was sure her breath could have caused an explosion if she lit a match. Earlier that day they had held a service for Patrick and it had really hit her that he was gone, her big brother, her protector was nowhere to be found. Just like her Tommy, sweet happy Tommy who was able to light up a room with his smile and whose laugh was contagious seemed to have died the same night. Harry had listened as she cried and mourned the lives lost and dreams that were crushed but once she was done he picked her up and helped her upstairs and cleaned her up and put her to bed. He had banned anyone giving her any kind of alcohol in the Garrison until she was able to function. He would be damned if the sweet girl turned into one of the men he served. “I’m fine Harry, I promise.” Katherine was touched as he watched her but before he could comment the doors to the Garrison were pushed open as the one man who she couldn’t stand walked through in the most attention way he could have. 

Fucking Thomas. 

(It will get better I promise but let me know what you think!)

[calaisreno]

Déjà Vu, Chapter 3

Conversations: Greg has coffee with Sherlock; Sherlock checks out a new flat; Anderson spouts nonsense (maybe?); and John has lunch with his ex-boyfriend. The puzzle pieces are coming together.

Author Note: In this story, the events of the show are a lost timeline. Several characters experience what is called False Memory Syndrome (FMS), where they remember events of other timelines.

Mycroft's recollections include several abandoned timelines where tragic things happened. In the present narrative, those are all false memories. John and Sherlock will find each other in this story.

Various POVs: Mycroft, Greg, Sherlock, John. POV shifts indicated by a new subtitle.

CW: suicide of a minor character; discussion of suicide (no graphic descriptions of violence or death). No MCD.

This story is part of the Off-Axis series, but you do not have to read the previous three stories to enjoy this one.

Note: Sorry! Link is fixed now!

[fear-is-truth]

tysm for the tag @bohnerrific69

9 people you wanna know better .ᐟ

◟✿ 3 ships — dramione, bonrad, reylo

◟✿ first ship — pretty sure it’s anidala

◟✿ last song — road rage by eminem

◟✿ last tv show — american murder: laci peterson

◟✿ currently reading — finders keepers by stephen king

◟✿ currently watching — conversations with a killer: the john wayne gacy tapes

◟✿ currently eating — does black coffee count ? ☕️

◟✿ currently craving — kai anderson’s d***

no pressure 🏷️ – @american-horror-whore @oceanblvd111 @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @mistysconcilium @lisboncy @andiloveher @newwavesylviaplath @starry-eyed-wild-child @marchbirdie @babydolllblogger i love u all sm

[steviebunny]

Pretty Astute Observations

Coquilles

___

06:00

Will Graham walks through the foyer of Hannibal Lectors home, bags still dark and heavy beneath his eyes. 

“Is it safe to assume you are not sleep walking now?”

“I’m sorry its so early”

“Office hours are for patients. My kitchen is always open to friends… and their partners.”

“Lena?”

“Came to see me just an hour ago, an interesting conversation was had on the topic of evil. Perhaps reaching out to her would be your best course of action. That's why Jack recruited her, is it not?” He says while fiddling with the espresso machine.

“I uh- I don’t know her very well.”

“One could always use more friends.”

“What about you doctor?”

“I’ll have you both…If you’ll have me” The innuendo could almost be unsettling if it wasn’t for Hannibal's air of confidence blanketing the statement. “Onset of adult sleepwalking is less common than in children.”

“Could it be a seizure?” Will asks gratefully accepting a glass from Hannibal.

“I’d argue, good old-fashioned post-traumatic stress. Jack Crawford has gotten your hands very dirty ”

“I wasn’t forced back into the field” 

“I wouldn't say ‘forced’, manipulated is the word I’d choose.”

“I can handle it.”

“Somewhere between denying horrible events, and calling them out lies the truth of psychological trauma.”

“So I can’t handle it.”

“Your experience may have overwhelmed ordinary functions that give you a sense of control.”

“If my body is walking around without my permission, you’d say thats a loss of control?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Hannibal asks, taking a sip of his own coffee. “Sleepwalkers demonstrate a difficulty handling aggression. Are you experiencing difficulty with aggressive feelings?”

“You said Jack sees me as fine china used for special guests. I'm beginning to feel more like an old mug.”

“You entered into a devil's bargain with Jack Crawford. It takes a toll.”

“Jack isn't the devil.”

“When it comes to how far he's willing to push you to get what he wants, he's certainly no Saint.”

—-

08:50

“You know, Hannibal seems to think we should be friends.” The statement shocked Lena, of all the things she expected Will Graham to say at a motel crime scene that was not one of them.

“Does he really, and what makes you think I’d like to be your friend?” 

“....I have dogs?”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?”

“Telling.” 

“Good. I love dogs, and now that we have that settled. Room was registered to a John Smith, big surprise there “

“An appalling failure of imagination.”

“They paid cash. There are no security cameras on the premises... another big surprise.”

“John Smith one of the victims?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, according to the register. They were mutilated and displayed. Jack and Zeller think it’s the Ripper but there were no surgical trophies taken, and the Ripper doesn’t exactly profile like the type of man who would vomit at his own crime scene”

“How can you be sure it wasn’t one of the victims?”

“They were strung up antemortem, and the sick was on the bedside table, once you see their positioning you’ll get why thats improbable.”

“Should I brace myself?”

“Definitely. It's not good in there.”

—

“Hooks were bored into the ceiling. A fishing line was used to hold up the bodies and... the wings. At least we know he's a fisherman.”

“Or a Viking.” Zeller chimed in.

“Vikings do this?

“Vikings used to execute Christians by breaking their ribs, bending them back, and draping the lungs over them to resemble wings. They used to call it a "blood eagle." Pagans mocking the Godfearing.” Lena laughed at Zeller’s ‘fun fact’. He raised a brow in her direction at the gesture prompting her to reply.

“Well you can’t say the Christians didn’t deserve it, they bullied their way into a foreign land, tried to murder those who wouldn’t give up their beliefs in the name of the church then moved their ‘savior’s’ birthday from spring to winter so that they could take over the pagan holiday of Yule for themselves. And pagans were also ‘god-fearing’ just not in a monotheistic sense”

“How do you know all that?”

“When I was with the BAU, the resident boy genius was going on a theology kick for a good few months. Each ride on the jet was at least a couple hours…I picked up some things.”

Zeller admonishes the idea and goes back to impatiently swab collecting with Beverly, She and Price laugh under their breath at the man’s childish behavior.

“No, he isn't mocking them. The unsub thinks he’s…transforming them. Elevating them in some way. 

I need a plastic sheet for the bed.”

—-

This is not who you are. 

This is my gift to you. 

I allow you to become angels. 

And now, I lay me down to sleep.

—

"Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws."

“Robert Frost.”

“Jim Morrison.”

“Even a drunk with a flair for the dramatic can convince himself he's God. Or the lizard king.”

“God makes angels. Jesus was fond of fishermen.”

“Are we talking hardcore Judeo-Christian upsetting, or just upsetting in general?”

“This is a very specific upsetting.”

“Increased serotonin in the wounds is much higher than the free histamines, so, uh, she lived for about 15 minutes after she was skinned.” Zeller announced.

“Powder residue on the neck of the soda bottle shows Vecuronium... scotch and soda and a paralytic agent.”

“Kneeling in supplication at the feet of g-dash-d.”

“Supplication is the most common form of prayer.Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

“They weren't praying to him. They were praying for him. He's afraid.”

“What is somebody who could do something like this afraid of?”

“What's in his vomit?”

“Uh, Dexamethasone...That's used for patients with tumors.”

“Kepra... He's epileptic. Radiation?”

“Gamma four, Steroids for the inflammation, anticonvulsants for the seizures, radiation for the chemotherapy.”

“Our guy has a brain tumor.”

“He's afraid of dying in his sleep.  He's making angels to watch over him.”

—-

An eclectically dressed woman, speed walks in her high-heeled shoes down the halls of the FBI looking for her target. Penelope Garcia won tickets to the most exclusive karaoke bar in Virginia (okay maybe she rigged the competition a little, who has to know?) and she’ll be damned if any member of her precious found family denies her invitation. The moment she spots Lena she grabs the woman’s arm pulling her into the commissary.

“You owe me.”

“What-” 

“Technically I’m not supposed to be helping out your team, and- and well you owe me, so you can’t say no to me!”

“Penny, what are you talking about?”

“This weekend, karaoke, you, me, BAU.”

“I’m on a case right now, sweetie. If Crawford doesn’t have us in the field I’ll be there.”

“Oh, you’ll be there alright. I’ll make sure of it!” The grin on Penelope’s face is contagious even as she rushes back off to her fortress of solitude.

—-

12:00

“There is no one and only spiritual center of the brain”

“Any idea of God comes from many different areas of the mind working together in unison.”

“Maybe I was wrong.”  Being wrong in this case seems like an unnatural event no matter how true or untrue it may be.

“How do you profile someone who has an anomaly in their head changing the way they think?”

“A tumor can definitely affect brain function, even cause vivid hallucinations. However, what appears to be driving your angel maker to create heaven on earth is a simple issue of mortality. Can't beat God, become him?”

“You said he was afraid.”

“He feels abandoned.”

“Ever feel abandoned, Will?”

“Less and less each day, if you and Jack keep encouraging me to make friends, either way, abandonment requires expectation.”

“What were your expectations of Jack Crawford and the FBI?”

“Jack hasn't abandoned me…I didn't expect to be working so closely with others…Lena wants to meet my dogs or rather insinuates she wants to meet my dogs. Definitely didn't expect that.” 

“Perhaps Jack hasn't abandoned you in a discernable way.”

“Perhaps in the way gods abandon their creations.”

“Is Jack God to you?”

“No more than you are.” If Will had looked at Hannibal's face he might have just seen a smile.

“You say he hasn't abandoned you, but at the same time you find yourself wandering around Wolf Trap in the middle of the night.”

“Well... This should be interesting…Please, doctor, proceed.”

“Jack gave you his word he would protect your headspace, yet he leaves you to your mental devices”

“Are you trying to alienate me from Jack Crawford?”

“I'm trying to help you set proper boundaries between employee and employer…I am also trying to help you understand this angel maker you seek. Well, help me understand how to catch him. If he were a classic paranoid schizophrenic, you might be able to influence him to become visible. What, scare him out into the daylight?”

“Might even get him to hurt himself, if he hasn't already. If he were self destructive, he-he..he wouldn't be so careful.”

“Unless he's careful about being self-destructive, making angels to pray over him when he sleeps.”

“Sleep is sacred, and who prays over us when we sleep?”

---

19:00

“Why angels?”

“Well, it isn't biblical. His angels have wings.”

“Um, angels in sculptures and paintings can fly, but not in scripture.”

“Technically not…if we're accounting for the angels that amass as giant winged amalgamations of eyeballs one would assume they could fly too?” Lena now always being a foot behind him is a fact he'll need to get used to at scenes.

“He's drawing from secular sources?”

“His mind has turned against him and there's no one there to help.”

“Uh, Jack... look at this.”

Are those… What are those?”

“Somebody got an orchiectomy real cheap.”

“Doesn't look like the victim.”

“So they're the angel maker's?”

Lena might just need to stop threatening to castrate men who frustrate her now, something about actually seeing the after-effects is more than unsettling.

“He castrated himself?”

“So he isn't just making angels; He's getting ready to become one. Angels don't have genitalia.”

“So he was afraid of dying. Now he's, what, getting used to the idea?”

“He's accepting it or he's bargaining. Heh, bargaining chips!”

“So, does this mean that he's done making angels, or is he just getting started?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, he's not just killing them when he's sleepy. I mean, how is he choosing them?”

“I don't know. Ask him.” Will begins to sweat almost profusely, removing his glasses and wiping his brow.

“I'm asking you.”

“You're the head of the behavioral science unit, Jack. Why don't you come up with your own answers if you don't like mine!?” Will’s voice raises in frustration. Crawford's face begins to morph into a threatening scowl.

“I did not hear that! Did I?!” he screams back at Will. Lena steps forward separating the two men.

“Jack I think its time for you to take a step back.”

“Do NOT get involved Gibbs”

“You brought me in to get involved! He’s obviously overwhelmed and looks like he’s on the verge of passing out, pushing your team won’t get you shit.”

“I know how far I can push my own team”

“Graham isn't officially on the team, you made that clear, and I’m telling you he’s done with the psycho-predicting today”

“I don’t need to be protected, I can see the rest of the scene,” Will says with a dejected rasp.

“I didn’t say we’re leaving, just to stop getting into the Angel Maker's head. I’m sure Dr. Lecter would agree with me if he’d seen that interaction.”

Jack's face screws back up and he storms away from Will and Lena. Beverly then approaches with a friendly smile and a gentle hand on Will’s shoulder. “My ears rang like the first time I heard my mom use the f-word. Are you ok?’ (he chuckles) ‘I know it's a stupid question considering that none of us could possibly be ok doing what we do, but… are you ok?”

“Do I seem different?”

“You're a little different, but you've always been a little different.”

“Brilliant strategy… that way no one ever knows if something's up with you.”

“Maybe not anymore, you’ve got a guard dog now.” Bev smiles and nods at Lena, then leads the two behind her further into the scene.

—-

19:20

“Meet Roger and Marilyn Brunner. You might recognize them from such lists as most wanted.”

“He likes to rape and murder, she likes to watch.”

“We got a DNA match. They falsified the motel registry and were driving a stolen car, so it took a second to identify them.”

“I wonder how long it took Angel Maker to identify them.”

“He didn't choose them randomly. He knows something about them.”

“He sees something we don’t.” It gets harder to not think of Sherlock, why the hell is Virgina so full of artistic and metaphorically motivated criminals?

“The murdered security guard wasn't actually a security guard. He was a convicted felon.”

“Could Angel Maker be a vigilante?”

“Well, vigilantes are pragmatic, they're purposeful; They don't lay down and sleep under their crimes.”

“In his mind, he was doing God's work. That spells vigilante.” Feels eerily similar to a certain terrorist too.

“Well, playing at God has other advantages. One of them…Is always being alone. So he makes angels out of demons.”

“How does he know they're demons?”

“He doesn't have to know. All he has to do is believe.

—

22:00

Will escorts Lena to a joint session with Hannibal practically the second after the both of them had been dismissed from duty for the evening.

“It's difficult to lie still and fear going to sleep.”

“What is there to think about?”

“You listen to your breathing in the dark and the tiny clicks of your blinking eyes.”

“I dream more now than I used to.”

“Well, your dreams were the one place you could be physically safe, relinquishing control. Not anymore.”

“Yeah, I thought about zipping myself up into a sleeping bag before I go to sleep, but it, heh, sounds like a poor man's straight jacket.”

“I’ve always found another body to be helpful…Sherlock would drape himself over me like a blanket when we slept. Bit hard to thrash during a nightmare if you’re simultaneously being squished.”

“Are you offering yourself to Will as a duvet, Lena?”

She laughs dismissively “We don’t know each other that well yet, Lecter. I’m sure at least one of your dogs is large enough to keep Graham still.” 

Will grimaces and huffs, “The dogs don’t sleep in my bed, I sweat sort of profusely…so even if they start there they’ll move off during the night at some point.”

“Well, then I guess I’m getting you an expensive sleeping bag for Christmas.” Will can’t actually tell whether she means that sarcastically or not, he looks to Dr. Lecter prompting the psychiatrist's next question.

“Have you two determined how this angel maker is choosing his victims?”

“Our killer, Well, he doesn't see people how everyone else sees them. He can tell if you're naughty or nice, or he thinks he can.”

“So God has given this person insight into the souls of men.”

“God didn't give him insight; God gave him a tumor.”

“God… rapidly dividing cells that keep trucking along. Seems so human, what deity would work so hard?”

“He's just a man whose brain is playing tricks on him.”

“You are not unlike this killer.”

“My brain is playing tricks on me?”

“You want to feel such sweet and easy peace. The angel maker wants that same peace .He hopes to feel his way cautiously inside and then find it's endless, all around him.”

“He's gonna be disappointed.”

“You accept the impossibility of such a feeling, whereas the angel maker is still chasing it.”

“I don’t think peace is impossible, I think the point of life is just striving for it, having it for a short amount of time. Then chaos ensues again. Balance, good and bad, Evil and righteousness. Peace and terror.”

“ And what or your life Lena has it been balanced between this sense of peace and terror?”

“More terror than peace, lately. But I think the scales are starting to level again.”

“If the Angel Maker got close to peace, that's why he will look for it again. I've tried to reconstruct his thinking and find his patterns.”

“Instead you find yourself in a behavior pattern you can't break. You realize you have a choice.”

“What is it?”

“Angel Maker will be destroyed by what's happening inside his head; You don't have to be.”

“That would require him telling Jack to screw off and stop pushing him,” Lena says as Hannibal stands from his place at his desk.

“Do you feel that Jack Crawford has bad intentions when it comes to dear Will?” 

“I’ve known Jack a long time. We’ve always had an antagonistic relationship, we first met through his wife when I was young. She helped my father on a case…he was not thrilled, I’ve never known why. He then tried to poach me back when I was with the BAU, but he chose to wait until our unit chief was going through difficulty…I suspect he might have even had a hand in convincing Director Strauss of her ‘motivations’. I didn’t want to be manipulated so I left. Went to Scotland Yard, and well… you know the rest, terror struck, Crawford sunk his claws in and here I am. The least I could do in my task to help Will is make Jack's life a little more annoying don't you think?”

Both men seemed to take in Lena’s perspective though whether her opinions on Crawford landed with Will is unknown. Hannibal seemed a bit more accepting. Nodding as he leaned into Will, sniffing the detective.

“Did you just smell me?”

“Difficult to avoid. I really must introduce you to a finer aftershave. That smells like something with a ship on the bottle.”

“Well, I keep getting it for Christmas.”

“Have your headaches been any worse lately? More frequent?”

“Yes, actually.” 

“ I'd change the aftershave.”

—-

07:00

“Elliot Budish: 35-year-old truck driver.”

“He's got a fishing license too. Uh, match came from the national cancer database.”

“Married, two kids… they haven't seen him in four months.”

“He was diagnosed five months ago.”

“Meet the angel maker.”

—-

“This'll be the last one.”

“It's Budish?”

“He made himself into an angel.”

“It wasn't God, it wasn't man. It was his choice to die.”

“His choice?”

“As much as he can make it.”

“I don't know how much longer I can be all that useful to you, Jack.”

“Really? You caught three. The last three we had, you caught. You caught three of them.”

“No, I didn't catch this one. Elliot Budish… surrendered.”

“You know, I'm used to my wife not talking to me. I don't have to get used to you not talking to me too.”

“No one wants to know your relationship issues Jack.” That earns Lena a glare, and if it was anyone else probably the uptick of a certain favorite finger.

“It's getting harder and harder to make myself look.”

“Well, nobody's asking you to look alone.” He says, angling a hand to the red-head.

“All due respect I am looking alone.”

“None taken, I’ve kinda made a career of playing sidekick.”

“You wanna go back to your lecture hall? Read about this stuff on tattlecrime.com?”

“Would you let him?” Lena says at the same moment Will announces “No, I don't…But that may be what I have to do. This is bad for me.”

“You go back to your classroom. When there's k*lling going on that you could've prevented, it will sour your classroom forever.”

“Maybe. And then maybe I'll find a job as a diesel mechanic in a boatyard.”

“You wanna quit? Quit.”

—

Entree (part 1)

“In the night. In the dark. Journey’s end and yet lover’s meeting.”

[malspinningyarns]

Random thoughts during Bridgerton season 3 rewatch, episode 4

Portia can’t just normally chaperone her daughter with a suitor?

Debling giving Penelope a fern is like when my coworkers have tried giving me plants. I work in a windowless office! I have ADHD! Don’t give me a plant!

Colin gets to miss the juicy gossip of John Stirling’s appearance

Violet wants Penelope to be a Bridgerton so bad

It’s kind of adorable that Benedict brought Lady Arnold flowers.

Lady Danbury really just wants to punch her brother. Also, dude, you don’t have friends in the country?

I live for this Pomeranian’s “tricks”

Brimsley is everything to me. He and Charlotte are true BFFs

Hyacinth’s mistake is pure cringe

To quote my mother “Isn’t he supposed to be Scottish?”

Those are some nice fireplace screens

Lord Samadani just has to be the center of attention

Can’t Will own the club, just not run it himself?

I can’t tell who is actually speaking so the disembodied voice at the library is like the entrance to a Disney attraction

Hey, look Queen Anne portrait

Lady Featherington and Lord Debling are in burgundy. Pen and Colin are in blue

Lord Debling couldn’t tell she was looking at Colin?

Francesca has such a crush on John. It’s adorable

The mausoleum comment Cressida makes about her home makes me think Lord Cowper will die soon

It’s hard to take Lord Cowper seriously when the last thing I saw his actor in was playing the very mincing Shakespearian drag performer Mr. Condell in Upstart Crow

Colin really hates these guys and so do I.

Lord Debling and Lady Featherington are both in dark blue for the proposal scene, continuing the idea that he’s Portia’s choice

Violet tells him to stop masking his emotions and then Colin immediately does it

That’s Hampton Court. Where’s the wine fountain? Is the wine fountain moveable?

That swan wig is going to win the hair team another Emmy

Have a shirtless ballet dancer in nude pants is a bold move, Charlotte

Debling is such a bad fit for the Featherington brother-in-laws’ himbo vibe. You need the wife guy energy my dude

Anderson really has not seen his sister in so long if he doesn’t know she the Queen of Meddling

When did Alice meet Lady Danbury?

Cressida’s fucking sleeve puffs

Lady Danbury really left before all the juicy stuff

Still haven’t seen a gif set of “she is not drinking the lemonade”😭

Colin would punch Fife and it would be worth it

Does Penelope have a full life, Debling? She has one friend and reads

How long has Eloise been ranting about feminism to Cressida? We saw her start before Colin left.

I’m surprised Debling didn’t shoulder check Colin the way he stomped past him

He is pissed

The “what have you done” conversation is heartbreaking

How long was Colin running for? They’re on like the back side of the gardens when he enters, I think

I’d like to point out that it’s the Featherington’s carriage

I love that Colin has been incorporated Featherington gold in his wardrobe

I love those gold shoes

Who hasn’t had to pretend to fingerbang a friend for a role, am I right? Just me and Newts? Ok. (In college I was in a play called In the Next Room or the vibrator play)

The laughing is so adorable

Colin, that’s not really a proposal.

[deadpoetemi]

Any Neil or todd hcs? Your Meeks ones are so good 💕

Yeah of course!!! I’m so glad you asked!✨

Neil Perry and Todd Anderson head cannons:

Neil Perry:

• Neil definitely has a resting ”I’m in love with you” face, and it gets him in some rather awkward situations with some strangers

• One time Charlie called Neil “sunshine” as a joke and it just stuck, and when he was asked about it his response was “just look at him”

• Despite being a little unassuming at times Neil is the best at flirting out of the poets, Charlie denies this but one time Neil threw a pickup line at him and even he blushed

• Neil has a tendency to put others needs before himself, he regularly pushed off his own feelings on the behalf of others

• Neil has never liked coffee, he just doesn’t enjoy the taste. He’ll definitely pick a nice cup of black tea before resorting to what he calls “burnt bean juice”

• Neil is a firm believer in not killing spiders and keeps a empty cup in his dorm for the sole purpose of putting them outside

• Neil actually wouldn’t mind going to medical school for his father if he didn’t put so much pressure on him and just let him act like he dreamed of

• Before Neil met Mr Keating, Neil was a serial people pleaser but after meeting Mr Keating he learned that he’s not responsible for the feelings of others

• Out of all the poets, Neil is the best at making friends. The guys think he has some sort of supernatural power because every time they meet someone new he walks away with a friend

• He is incredible at remembering names, even if it’s been years since he’s seen you he’ll remember your name

• Neil is definitely considered “the glue” of the poets, he’s the reason the boys are all friends because he introduced them to each other

• Neil talks in his sleep, it’s often incoherent mumbling but sometimes he’ll be quoting full plays

• Neil has incredible handwriting, like Declaration of Independence Level Script

• He gets really excited about little things,(cinnamon rolls at breakfast, smell of clean laundry, babies smiling at him, frosty mornings, ect…)

• Neil definitely CANNOT sing, but he enjoys doing it anyway

Todd Anderson:

• Todd is incredibly smart, like challenging Meeks level smart. He’s just so quiet that most teachers think that he’s not paying attention and that earns him demerits

• Todd may seem quiet and submissive but he can only take so much of someone yelling at him before he goes off on them

• Todd loves reading and loves to annotate his books, he has a collection of sticky note tabs and highlighters just for that

• Though Todd doesn’t speak up very often, he has a very eloquent way of saying things that often leaves others speechless

• After Todd graduated college he decided to publish a book of poems with a dedication page saying “in thanks to the men who changed my life and helped me find my voice (John Keating and Neil Perry)”

• Todd really enjoys people watching, he’ll often go to a local cafe with a journal and write poems while drinking coffee and watching the people walk by

• Todd keeps a collection of pens in his desk, like really good pens. The kind that just glide on the paper, he very rarely lets anyone else use them. Funny enough, they were the only think he kept from the desk sets that his family got him

• Unlike Neil, Todd really enjoys coffee. He puts and ungodly amount of sugar and milk in it though that Meeks jokes if it’s even coffee at that point

• Out of all the poets other than Neil, Todd is pretty close with Meeks and pitts. He really enjoys hanging out with them because of how they can just do nothing and enjoy each other’s company

• Most nights in Todd and Neil’s room are spent staying up giggling about random subjects that end up coming up in conversation, but they also end up having incredibly deep conversations about morality and mortality

• Todd has a mild obsession with scented candles and almost always has one lit in his dorm room

• Todd is clinically diagnosed with autism but he keeps that information to himself. It wasn’t till he got close with Neil that he told him and Neil reassured him that he didn’t see him any differently

• Todd has so many blankets in his dorm room because he gets cold easily and he needs something to keep him warm

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

A disappointingly bland statement from the nation's two best known exposé journalists.

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

October 25, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Oct 26, 2024

A bombshell story last night from the Wall Street Journal reported that billionaire Elon Musk, one of the richest men in the world, who is backing the election of Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump with a daily million-dollar sweepstakes giveaway and gifts of tens of millions to the campaign, has been in regular contact with Russian president Vladimir Putin since late 2022. Reporters Thomas Grove, Warren P. Strobel, Aruna Viswanatha, Gordon Lubold, and Sam Schechner said that the conversations “touch on personal topics, business and geopolitical tensions.” 

Musk’s SpaceX, which operates the Starlink satellite system, won a $1.8 billion contract with U.S. military and intelligence agencies in 2021. It is the major rocket launcher for NASA and the Pentagon, and Musk has a security clearance; he says it is a top-secret clearance.

Today, NASA administrator Bill Nelson called for an investigation into the story. “If the story is true that there have been multiple conversations between Elon Musk and the president of Russia,” Nelson told Burgess Everett of Semafor, “then I think that would be concerning, particularly for NASA, for the Department of Defense, for some of the intelligence agencies.”

Musk appears to be making a bid for control of the Republican Party for a number of possible reasons, including so he can continue to score federal contracts and because the high tariffs Trump has promised to place on Chinese imports would guarantee that Musk would have leverage in the electrical vehicle market. 

But Musk has competition for control of the party. Today, Senate minority leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) and House speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA), who lead the establishment Republican faction and the MAGAs, respectively, and thus are usually at loggerheads, issued a joint statement condemning Democratic presidential nominee Vice President Kamala Harris for “labeling [Trump] as a ‘fascist.’” They suggest she is “inviting yet another would-be assassin to try robbing voters of their choice before Election Day.” 

Observers immediately pointed out that, in fact, it is Trump who has repeatedly called Harris a fascist—as well as a Marxist and a communist—and that those calling Trump a fascist are former members of his own administration like former White House chief of staff General John Kelly, or leaders like former chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Mark Milley, whom Trump himself appointed to his position and who called Trump “the most dangerous person to this country.”

Harris’s contribution to this discussion was that when CNN’s Anderson Cooper asked Harris directly if she thinks Trump is a fascist at a town hall this week, she answered: “Yes, I do. And I also believe that the people who know him best on this subject should be trusted.” 

Aside from the gaslighting of attacking Harris for something that Trump is the one doing, the statement seemed a calculated attempt to demonstrate Republican solidarity. But it was glaringly obvious that McConnell and Johnson found that solidarity only in attacking Harris. Their statement contained no praise of Trump. 

The struggle over the Republican Party also seemed evident in yesterday’s decision by the billionaire owner of the Los Angeles Times, biotech tycoon Patrick Soon-Shiong, to kill that paper’s planned endorsement of Harris. Choosing not to make an endorsement in the race, Soon-Shiong said that he thought an endorsement would “add to the division” in the country. Elon Musk praised his decision.

Today the Washington Post also decided not to make an endorsement in the presidential race, despite the fact a piece endorsing Harris was already drafted. Publisher William Lewis said the paper was returning to its roots of not endorsing presidential candidates, although it has endorsed candidates for decades and did so in its early years as well. His statement seemed a weak cover for the evident wish of the Washington Post’s owner, Jeff Bezos, to avoid antagonizing Trump.

Bezos gives Musk a run for his money at being the richest man in the world. But while Musk wants high tariffs against China to protect his access to electric vehicle markets, Bezos’s fortune comes from Amazon, and high tariffs would shatter his business. When he was in office, Trump went out of his way to find ways to hurt Amazon to get back at Bezos for unfavorable coverage in the Post. 

Los Angeles Times editorial page editor Mariel Garza, along with journalists Robert Greene and Karin Klein, resigned from the paper after its decision not to endorse Harris, and nearly 2,000 readers canceled their subscriptions. The Washington Post, too, has seen about 2,000 subscribers bow out, and fourteen of the newspaper’s columnists called the decision not to condemn Trump’s threats to the “freedom of the press and the values of the Constitution” “a terrible mistake.” Cartoonist Ann Telnaes published a blacked-out square, playing on the Post’s motto that democracy dies in darkness.

Readers are speaking out against the Washington Post for demonstrating what scholar of authoritarianism Timothy Snyder calls “obeying in advance” the demands of an authoritarian leader (although Washington Post legal journalist Ruth Marcus, who signed the letter calling the decision a terrible mistake, pointed out that the Post itself was publishing the many letters of condemnation). “Most of the power of authoritarianism is freely given,” Snyder’s “On Tyranny” reads. “In times like these, individuals think ahead about what a more repressive government will want, and then offer themselves without being asked. A citizen who adapts in this way is teaching power what it can do.”

The aftermath of the Post’s decision demonstrated what scholars say will happen after such obeying. Rather than winning favors, such a demonstration of weakness invites further abuse, as anyone who has watched Trump in action ought to know by now. 

Trump’s people pounced, with advisor Stephen Miller posting: “You know the Kamala campaign is sinking when even the Washington Post refuses to endorse.”

Trump then promptly went a step further, claiming that Democrats had taken part in “rampant Cheating and Skullduggery…in the 2020 presidential election” and warning that in 2024, “WHEN I WIN, those people that CHEATED will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the Law, which will include long term prison sentences so that this Depravity of Justice does not happen again…. Please beware that this legal exposure extends to Lawyers, Political Operatives, Donors, Illegal Voters, & Corrupt Election Officials. Those involved in unscrupulous behavior will be sought out, caught, and prosecuted at levels, unfortunately, never seen before in our Country.”

Trump’s threats are designed to convince people he is a strongman who will inevitably win the 2024 presidential election. But to do that, he will have to go through the voters, who are demonstrating their enthusiasm for Democratic candidate Harris and her running mate, Minnesota governor Tim Walz.

After the announcement by the Washington Post, others stepped up to endorse Harris. The largest Teamsters union in Texas endorsed Harris before her rally tonight in Houston. In a blistering editorial, the Philadelphia Inquirer endorsed Harris, saying: “America deserves much more than an aspiring autocrat who ignores the law, is running to stay out of prison, and doesn’t care about anyone but himself.” 

Tonight, Trump taped a podcast episode with Joe Rogan in Austin, Texas, hoping to reach Rogan’s large audience. He was still on the ground in Austin when he was supposed to be appearing at a rally in Traverse City, Michigan, and blamed the long taping for the fact he was three hours late to the rally. Tired of waiting, rally attendees streamed out. When he finally arrived, about 47,000 viewers watched the PBS live stream of the rally.

Harris was in Houston, where she took the fight for abortion rights to the heart of a state where an abortion ban has endangered women and driven up the infant mortality rate. People began standing in line before sunrise to get into the rally at the Houston Shell Energy Stadium and filled the 22,000-seat stadium to capacity. About 2.5 million people watched the PBS live stream. 

Harris shared the stage with actor Jessica Alba and music legends Beyoncé and Willie Nelson, who asked the crowd: “Are we ready to say Madam President?”

—

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[sleepyfireball]

A Quiet Acceptance of Love | A Bridgerton Story

Chapter 7: Harmony

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: Gen Pairing: Violet Bridgerton/Marcus Anderson Summary: Violet Bridgerton slowly but surely falls in love with Marcus Anderson. A character study of Violet Bridgerton in Season 3. Notes: Well, this is the end! Finally here. I cannot tell you how excited I am to finally have a completed story fully released. I really hope you guys all enjoyed the story and I love every one of you. Massive thanks to my duckies @lifesizehysteria and @cptn-nash for betaing this whole story and genuinely being the best support in this whole crazy journey. I never thought that fandom would bring me some of my closest friends, but I am so so thankful that it did. Chapter 6 Chapter 5 Chapter 4 Chapter 3 Chapter 2 Chapter 1 AO3

Francesca and John’s wedding was, in Violet’s opinion, perfect. They were so clearly comfortable with the small wedding, and with each other, it warmed Violet’s heart. Her doubts had vanished after her conversation with Francesca. She could appreciate that their love was a slow and sure one, rather than one that was explosive and quick. 

Violet smiled to Agatha during the ceremony, and when Agatha had smiled and nodded back, Violet felt her heart become a little more full. Her season had turned out better than she could have planned, with two children successfully gaining a true love match, her friendship with Agatha now stronger than ever, and her own ventures back into the romantic fray. 

Speaking of the romantic fray, her eyes slipped over to Lord Anderson, standing just behind Agatha, as he smiled softly at her. Violet dipped her head and smiled giddily, feeling her heart flutter, just a little, remembering the last time that she and Marcus had been in the drawing room together. She swallowed and hastily returned her gaze to the happy couple, pushing such thoughts from her mind.

As Agatha made her excuses to leave Violet alone with Lord Anderson, Violet felt her pulse quicken in her veins. She watched Agatha speaking to Hyacinth briefly, then heard Marcus’ voice speaking lowly in gentle conversation.

“It was a beautiful ceremony.” She turned her attention back to Lord Anderson, smiling at him as she nodded.

“I thought so,” she said. Lord Anderson smiled before he continued as if she had said nothing. 

“Second only to the beauty of its hostess,” he said, and Violet almost thought he may have rehearsed his words before he said them.

Violet laughed softly. “You flatter me.” She felt a flush rising as she swiftly took a drink from her glass, desperately trying to prevent herself blushing even more. How was it that she could look at him and have entirely impure thoughts, but the moment that he spoke to her, she turned into a blushing debutante once more?

“I am sincere.” Lord Anderson continued, still watching her even as she turned away briefly. “And sincere in wondering, if you would be so kind as to, uh…” He trailed off. Violet watched, smiling, as he uncharacteristically avoided her eye contact. She felt lonely without having his warm eyes watching her and she sought them out once more. “Save a dance for me at the next ball?”

Violet blinked. And blinked once more. Had he– Had he just asked her, Violet Bridgerton, to dance?

“Uh, wha-- The, uh… Uh… Dankworth-Finch Ball?” Violet’s words escaped her as she desperately tried to pull herself together enough to be able to answer his question. “I… Uh, well…” Violet cast about the room, laughing slightly, hoping she would find the words she wanted to say written in the curtains. “Yes.” Marcus chuckled and Violet’s heart skipped a beat. “Ye-- Uh, That… That would be most adequate.” Violet finished feebly. 

She took another sip of her drink as she exhaled, disappointed in herself for being reduced to stuttering. Again. She felt, rather than saw or heard, Marcus next to her as he also appeared to sigh in relief.

“Good. Very good.” He said as he huffed out a laugh, Violet hearing it as if from very far away. She heard her blood rushing in her ears and the tips of her ears pinked in embarrassment. As John clinked his glass and began his toast, Violet heard her own words to Francesca, from earlier that morning, repeating in her head. 

“You know, when I first met your father… I could barely speak my own name; I was so taken by him. I stumbled over words most familiar.” 

Had love really snuck up on her in such a way that she had not expected it, but welcomed it home with open arms anyway? Perhaps she understood Francesca’s own love better than she had thought. 

“So, instead, I shall offer a few humble words to your family, especially your mother.” John’s words pulled Violet from her thoughts. “Lady Bridgerton,” I really must remind him to call me Violet now, we are family. “I see your openness reflected in Benedict, your charm in Colin, your wisdom in Eloise, and a brightness you have instilled in both Gregory and Hyacinth.” 

Violet felt the blush warming her cheeks as she looked down, uncomfortable in the face of such brazen praise, especially from John, who always chose his words so carefully.

“In this moment, when I feel so much gratitude for my new wife,” John continued, “I feel it in equal measure for the remarkable woman who raised her.” Violet looked up to him, overcome, smiling softly as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “I thank you, all of you, from the bottom of my heart.” He finished, raising his glass for the toast.

Violet laughed gently as she wiped the tears from her eyes. She felt both Marcus and Eloise’s hands on her arms, taking comfort from them. She had certainly not intended to cry at another of her children’s weddings, but the emotions of the day, coupled with John’s heartfelt toast, had overwhelmed her.

Seeing her tears, John spoke up once more, smiling. “Ah. Forgive me. Tears were the last thing I meant to evoke.” As everyone chuckled, Violet breathed a sigh of relief as the attention moved from her.

“Hyacinth has been crying this entire time.” Gregory said, much to Hyacinth’s indignance.

“One day, you, too, will have a heart.” Hyacinth retorted and Violet could not keep the smile from her face in watching her two youngest bicker. At least, not everything would be changing by the end of the season.

“Mama, will you play a duet with me?” Francesca turned to Violet, a pleading smile on her face.

“Oh, heavens, when-- Now?” She chuckled awkwardly, torn between having one last moment to bond with the daughter that she was soon to be waving away or maintaining the last shred of her remaining dignity after being reduced to heartfelt tears. “I… Well, I am dreadfully out of practice.” She had not played the pianoforte since she and Edmund had played together, serenading the children. It had simply been too painful to play without him, but, perhaps, with her children, new memories could be formed.

“I believe the last time I nearly moved you to tears was when I first started playing.” Francesca said and Violet was no longer torn, deciding that whatever her mischievous child was about to do was worth it if it meant that she got to celebrate this time with her.

“She was not the only one. I wept in my room from the hideous chord combinations.” Eloise interrupted, prompting soft laughter from everyone and a gentle tap on the shoulder from Violet.

“Oh, haha.” Francesca dismissed her sister’s taunt, turning back to Violet and taking her hand, saying. “Thankfully, Mama did not abandon me.” Violet smiled, as Francesca continued. “And I shall not abandon you now.”

“Is that a threat?” Violet said laughingly, suddenly very nervous that Francesca would not simply let it go.

Francesca nodded wryly, and Violet chuckled softly, hearing Marcus echo her from where he stood beside her. Violet allowed herself to be dragged to the pianoforte, handing her champagne to Eloise. She felt her nervousness rise, and she took several deep breaths as she sat next to Francesca, who started their duet.

Under the watchful eye of her family and friends, Violet drew a little strength from Francesca, who had grown so much during the season. Violet could still scarcely believe that she was married, and would be leaving for Scotland all too soon. She laughed with Francesca as the chords clashed, releasing some of the nervous energy she felt, but, in following her lead, Violet found a harmony with her daughter.  Her words with her from the start of the season echoed in her head.

“When you play with another person, there is a certain vulnerability which can be quite frightening, I would imagine. But it is worth it, once you find that person with whom you make an unexpected harmony.”

Perhaps her words had applied to herself this season as well, not just with Francesca.

As Violet played her duet, she was overcome with the overwhelming love for her children that always threatened to spill out. She had always tried to steer her children in the right direction, but it appeared that Francesca had managed to steer her, too. Francesca’s insistence for her own happiness had warmed Violet’s heart, to know that her daughter felt comfortable enough to stand for what she believed in, but it also opened Violet’s eyes to a new perspective. Violet looked up and caught Marcus’ eye as she played. He smiled, oh so softly, and Violet felt her heart fall a little more in love.

***

As Violet entered the Dankworth-Finch Ball, leading her children, she took a steadying breath. Tamping down the nerves that constantly threatened to arise was proving difficult. However, when Violet’s eyes settled on Marcus, she felt her nerves suddenly calm and explode simultaneously. The butterflies in her stomach took flight and Violet swallowed, to ground herself. As he noticed her, he excused himself and walked over to her family.

“Lady Bridgerton.” Violet would never tire of hearing her name in the rich timbre of his voice. “May we take a turn about the room?” Marcus offered his arm to her. Violet swallowed once more, before taking his arm in her hand. The moment she touched him, felt the warmth of him through his coat, her nerves finally settled. It was not explosive and powerful as it had been with Edmund; it felt like coming home after a long time away. A different love, Violet supposed.

“I would like that.” Violet said softly, smiling. She could feel the eyes of her children, watching her, but, for tonight, she put her worries aside. Her children were bright enough to realise that she was being courted, especially if Benedict’s parting wink was anything to go by. Violet entered the ball as a partner and not just a mother for the first time in 12 years.

***

Penelope’s speech had both worried and impressed Violet. She was so proud that she had finally managed to find her voice after so long hiding herself underneath the voice of Whistledown. Violet, however, worried of how the ton would react, but, seeing the ball return to its festivities, she realised she need not worry so much. Her children were growing up and she had always counted Penelope in that number, ever since her yellow bonnet had blown Colin off of his bicycle.

Marcus turned to Violet, his voice low. “Did you know?” 

“That she was Lady Whistledown? Not until earlier this week. I received a letter, much like Her Majesty.” She turned to him, seeing a quiet look of amazement on his face.

“I am quite impressed, she seems like a very bright young woman.” Marcus said, looking over to see Colin speaking to Penelope.

“Indeed, she is. And, if I am not mistaken, Colin has finally realised just how lucky he is to have her.” Violet watched the pair as they began to move to the dance floor. She felt Marcus shift beside her and her attention turned to him, to see him offer his hand to her.

“May I have this dance?” Violet stood, for a moment. She knew he would ask, of course she knew, it was the primary cause of her nervousness tonight. But it had slipped her mind through the commotion with Penelope. She blinked, still staring at his hand. Before she realised it, she felt her hand in his, her attention focusing on the warmth spreading from his hand to hers. Her other hand rested on her stomach, as it always did, a shield between herself and the rest of the world. He led the way to the dance floor and Violet swallowed, pushing her nervousness down as best she could.

I have not danced in so long, what if I do not remember the steps? Surely people must be looking. A widow dancing with a widower, it is sure to -- Violet’s racing internal monologue was silenced by the feeling of Marcus’ thumb stroking over her hand reassuringly. He watched only her as they moved into position on the dance floor. He stepped in toward her, slightly closer than what was proper.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered to her. At his words, Violet felt herself relax slightly. She was not alone in this; every courtship took two people and she felt safe by his side. She had felt safe by his side for far longer than she was willing to admit. 

As the music began, Violet remembered the steps for their dance. It all came back to her surprisingly quickly. While it had been 12 years, she had coached all of her children through their dance lessons and it appeared Violet’s own dance lessons were still embedded in her memory. Glancing over to the other couples for a cue of the next steps, Violet felt Marcus take the lead. She focused on him. 

As they danced, she remembered the last time she had danced. With Edmund. She felt a wave of nostalgia and melancholy wash over her. In a perfect world, she would have been here with Edmund, dancing with him. However, he had passed on and Violet had made her peace with that. 

As she danced, she was brought back to the present, instead of lingering in her memories. She smiled softly as Marcus spun her under his arm. She could not deny that she was excited to explore whatever this would become with Marcus. As the memories of dancing with Edmund flooded her, she allowed them to come to her, but not to overwhelm her. She wanted to stay in the present, with Marcus, enjoying her first dance with him.

He took her in his arms, the closest that Violet had ever been to him. She felt him behind her, solid and sturdy; safe. The longer that she danced, the less the memories of Edmund overwhelmed her and she truly began to enjoy herself. Of all her deportment lessons, dancing had always been her favourite.

Violet beamed at Marcus, seeing him return her smile with one of his own. She realised that she had fallen in love with that smile the moment that it had graced his lips. She looked up to his eyes, to see them twinkling with happiness. She spun underneath him once more, unable to hide her own happiness shining through, and as she danced, she found that her heart was making room for this new love for Marcus alongside her own, ever enduring, love for Edmund.

[renx01]

Out of Sight - Part 3

General idea: Moriarty is your boss. After he helped you out of a precarious situation when you were still a minor, you started working for him. Now, he has a new job for you. Get close to the Holmes brothers to keep an eye on them for him. Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Reader  & Jim Moriarty/Reader Fandom: BBC Sherlock Word count: 1936

Masterlist

That evening you get home quite late, so you decide to text Jim a short update before immediately heading to bed. 

Everything’s going according to plan, Mr British government has already approached me. Both Holmes brothers are very much interested but do not suspect me in the slightest. -S

Wonderful. -JM

You slept for a couple of hours before waking up around five in the morning. Getting out quietly, you stretch your limbs before getting out your running gear. You put in your earbuds and turn on the music before heading out. The streets are quiet and there’s the faintest bit of rain falling from the sky. ‘Of course it’s raining.’ You whisper to yourself as you start your run. The route you’re running is about fifteen kilometres (just over 9 miles) through the streets and some nearby parks. Despite what some others may do, you have the intention of keeping up with your stamina and physical fitness. A morning run is the first step to that, and later this week you will be looking into places where you could possibly keep up with your fighting skills, preferably MMA. When you turn a corner in the park, you’re greeted by Sebastian’s face. He starts running with you as you continue. ‘Good morning to you.’ You slow your pace a bit so he can catch up. ‘What are you doing here Seb?’ Sebastian has, over the years, become a bit of a brotherly figure in your life. While you know it is not advantageous to care, you do care for him in a way. ‘Just checking whether you’ve settled down a bit. London’s a big city and while I know you’re used to it quite a bit, I just wanted to check.’ He smiles widely. ‘You’re taking quite a risk, mister.’ Turning serious, you stop in your tracks. ‘Does Jim know you’re here?’ He nods. ‘Of course, I wouldn’t do this if he didn’t think it were alright.’ This brings some relief. ‘Okay, good. I just wanted to check. We shouldn’t be taking too many risks.’ The two of you continue running together for a few kilometres before he tells you goodbye. ‘I’ll keep in touch, Jim gave me the number of your burner phone.’

When you get back to Baker Street, you hop into the shower before getting dressed for work. You just grab a granola bar, your briefcase, and leave to go to your work. The ride on the tube is quiet and you notice nothing out of the ordinary.  ‘Good morning Charlie.’ You’re greeted by Sally Donnovan. ‘Morning Sallie, had a good night yesterday?’ She’d been flirting with Anderson all day and they’d left work together. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Turning away, you ignore her blushing bashfully at your comments and pour yourself a cup of coffee. ‘Sure thing.’ You whisper. ‘So how’s London treating you?’ She’s obviously trying to change the subject, and you decide to go with it to make things easier. ‘It’s been good, though I haven’t seen much of the city yet. I arrived this past Sunday and worked most of yesterday. Went on a run this morning though, and the parks around here seem to be very nice.’ You smile at her before sipping your coffee. Greg walks up and joins the conversation. ‘You went on a run? This morning?’ You see him glance at the clock. It’s just before eight o’clock. ‘I did.’ They both seem quite shocked. ‘What time did you wake up?’ Sally asked, her voice making her shock quite obvious. ‘Around five.’ If it had been possible, their eyes would’ve become the size of saucers. ‘That early? Charlie, are you mad?’ Greg’s voice has a tone you haven’t heard much before, was it concern? ‘I’m not? I just wanted to go on a run and due to work that was the most convenient time to do so.’ They glance at each other briefly before Sally speaks again. ‘I suppose you are correct about that. Didn’t expect you to be such a morning person.’ She tries to sound cheery, but it’s obviously fake. ‘You aren’t?’ You look poignantly at her over your mug. ‘No, I’m not. I’m more of a night owl myself.’ Her smile looks a bit sheepish. All the mindless chatter annoys you to no end, but you know it’s required to participate in order to blend in. Hopefully the Holmes brothers will make up for it, though you assume for that to be the case when Jim’s assigned you to it. When you get back to your desk, you quickly send him a text from your burner phone.

This better get interesting quickly, these people at SY are boring me out of my mind. -S

It takes a while, but he does reply.

Oh it will, don’t worry. Just be patient. -JM

The rest of the morning runs smoothly. There’s been a homicide which seems to be linked to another one which was committed just over a month earlier. It isn’t too complex, both seem to be linked to a singular drug cartel which is at war with another one. You happen to know a lot more about the ins and outs of this one, but cannot show your hand to the police just yet. So, you’re carefullie piecing together the evidence they already have, so they can come to the correct conclusion themselves.  Around lunchtime, you’re approached by Lestrade, asking you to join him, Donnovan, and Anderson for a short walk. So, while a bit reluctantly, you do decide to join them. Throughout the affair, you mostly listen, only engaging in conversation when it seems necessary. Most of it was unimportant nonsense, but you do hear something about Sherlock snooping around at a suicide case. You assume, however, that it probably isn’t a suicide if Sherlock’s involved himself. What is clear to you, though, is that Jim isn’t directly involved. It’s probably one of his many pawns which are spread across the city.

That night when you arrive at your flat you see the light is on and the door is open to 221B. You hear Sherlock constantly talking to John. Something about a painting in a bank and a symbol that they’re trying to find. Deciding that it’s a good time for “bonding” with them, you walk up the stairs and knock on the already opened door.‘Evening gentlemen,’ John turns to face you and you flash a shy smile, ‘how’s it going?’ His eyes look a bit desperate. Desperate to escape from Sherlock, even if it’s just momentarily. ‘Evening Charlie. Well, I suppose we’re doing fine. Sherlock got a new case today, so that’s always good.’ He doesn’t sound too convinced. You slowly start walking in and see the pictures of a painting that has been spray-painted over. It’s a symbol you’d seen used by smugglers while you were in Hong Kong and China. ‘So, what’s all this?’ Your voice is soft, but does grab the detective’s attention. ‘It’s an ancient Chinese number. Fifteen to be precise.’ He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to one of the many books that are scattered around the flat. ‘And what exactly do you need all these books for?’ You pick up one of the ones that he had discarded on the table and open it. It wasn’t anything special, and you are certain that he’s probably looking in the wrong direction in terms of books. Sure a book should bring the answer, but this novel isn’t going to give him any information. ‘I am looking for information on what the people behind this are trying to convey to the person that finds it.’ A snort escapes you unintentionally. I got that, I’m not a goldfish. ‘Well, based on the two people that have died, it’s probably a message.’ He picks up a book from one of the plastic bins. ‘It probably just tells them that they’ll die soon?’ Making it a question makes you sound uncertain and gives Sherlock the opportunity to tell you what he knows. He likes to show off after all. ‘While that is indeed the case, there’s a lot more behind it-’

Sherlock basically shared all the details he knew about the case with you that evening. Based on what he’s told you, it’s probably some sort of conflict within one of the criminal organisations of Chinese origin that operate in London. Towards the end of the night, you excuse yourself and head outside for a moment, greeting Mrs Hudson on the way. ‘Evening.’ You smile at her. ‘Evening dearie, how’re you doing?’ You tell her that you’re well and ask her about her day. After about five minutes of conversation, you’re finally able to step outside. The air outside is cold but your coat keeps you warm enough. Slipping your hand into your coat pocket, you grab your cigarette case and lighter. This is the one vice you hold onto. In a way, it helps you relax, but you haven’t made it a habit. You take a single one out of the case and light it, taking a drag almost immediately. As you look at the cars that are passing by, you start to disassociate. A message on your phone gets you out of this trance-like state. 

I thought you’d quit smoking Spikey. -JM

You chuckle as you take another drag.

Let me have my vice. It isn’t a habit anyway. -S

As long as it doesn’t affect your mind, I really don’t care. It might even attract Sherlock’s attention. Ask him about the 400+ kinds of ashes that exist. -JM

I’ll consider it. -S

You put away your phone quickly before the door behind you opens. By the sound of it, it’s Sherlock. You turn your head slightly so you can see him from the corner of your eye. Before he can say anything, you hold up a single cigarette for him to grab. He considers for a moment, but doesn’t grab it. Good, I suppose. He’s being entertained by the case. He’ll probably get bored after this one ends. ‘Didn’t know you smoked.’ He comments, it’s obviously a lie. ‘You definitely knew. You’re Sherlock Holmes.’ He lets out a quiet laugh. ‘Alright, I did know, though the signs were barely there. You aren’t a regular smoker, are you?’ ‘You’re correct about that.’ You muse quietly. ‘You met Mycroft, haven’t you.’ Taking another drag, you nod. ‘I have. Quite dramatic isn’t he?’ The faintest chuckle escapes him, again. He’s starting to like you and your personality, that’s good. A lot easier than you’d expected. ‘He is. Did you take the bribe?’ Ah, so he knows about his brother’s inquiries. ‘I did.’ ‘Good.’ He sounds somewhat happy about your choice. ‘The money is only useful, and he’ll know 95 percent of it already anyway. I suppose those extra five percent help my brother with his nerves.’ You smirk. ‘Didn’t expect you to be so accepting of your brother constantly spying on you.’ ‘I’m not, I’m just used to it.’ After taking one last drag, you throw the remainder of the cigarette onto the pavement and put it out with your foot. ‘Is that so? Well, I suppose I can understand if it’s a sibling. He probably means well.’ He scoffs. ‘I hardly think that’s the case. Mycroft isn’t one to care, he just wants to make sure I’m not a nuisance to him or his work.’ You turn to fully face him. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Sherlock.’ Giving him a wink, you go back inside and to your flat.

[abundantchewtoys]

HS:BC re: p666.3

So, a new path has opened.

And oh man was it a good one.

Even if we never saw the conversations Vriska had with Eridan, John & Kanaya. Still good to know she resolved some of her feelings regarding them. As for what she ended up admitting to them, or what her issues really were towards them, we might still find out later.

I wonder how her epiphanies regarding Tavros & Eridan changed how she acted towards GCATavros & Erisol during her stay.

It's really surprising but heartwarming, seeing Vriska have such a good relationship with Nannasprite. I'm a bit curious to see more of Nannasprite 2, since she's the one that should be closest to Jade. But she's really developed a lot in this update!

Man, I hadn't even thought about the parallels between Dad Egbert & Tavros Crocker. But yeah, on the whole, Jane Egbert turned out a LOT better adjusted! Even after becoming a one-handed harlequin ghost.

Really cool to see her animated talksprite here, she truly is Nanna Jane. Also, she's talking a lot more subdued. And making all these blue lady puns! Guess Grandpa didn't develop his obsession with those specific types of paintings out of thin air after all. Assuming the sprites are really there and not projections of the Plot Hole, it makes sense. She's had a lot of years by now to become adjusted to her state of being. … Man, now I'm picturing what it could have been like if Nannasprite had stuck around with John & the others on Candy Earth. How would she and Harry Anderson have gotten along?

Nannasprite and John holding "jam sessions" though. :D I guess they put a spin on holding "feelings jams".

And man, Nanna had her own tome to bond with her father through, jeesh, never considered that. Despite lacking Maid of Life powers (at the time), she 'resurrected' her father by bearing him a grandson.

And yeah, she really lacked in human contact, huh? I mean, she got raised by an alien! One that "stole" her "life"'s potential, yeah I see what they did there.

In any case, it's cool we have confirmation now that Dad Egbert's Jane's biological offspring. Meaning him and Dad Crocker are more like uncle and nephew, pffff.

Makes me wonder if that means Nanna and John share "love of pipes, harlequins, cakes, detective stories" genes. Also, the big nose gene :D Maybe their other maritial halves were in fact siblings carrying that DNA. :B

That Nannasprite sees Jane's development and concludes some things about herself. chef's kiss She really is the OG Nanna, I figure Candy Jake should have a chance to meet her again.

… Wait, yeah, but Nanna refers to herself as Jane Crocker here, isn't that a first? I mean, logically she must have been called that, if not Jane Sassacre, but it's a first to read it being said, I think?

"NANNASPRITE: Is that how you kids think these days? My lord, no wonder none of you go outside anymore." Truth. Also, funny, cause people not going outside are… Well, homestuck. :p

When first Vriska said she got stuck on 'her', my first thought of course was Terezi. See, I figured she might have had to have conversations with Spidermom & perhaps even a nebulous manifestation of Mindfang.

But this? Oh man.

This was really a fine way to inspect all the fucked up ways her childhood was twisted. Even, apparently, according to Alternian standards!

Her 'custodian' never fed her, raised her or anything. She has so much in common with the Striders, in fact. Having to fend for themselves in a hostile environment.

Like Dirk, all she knew about her role model was hearsay. She didn't even have facts to go on, just a self-indulgent journal.

Momfang is an appropriate stuff of nightmares. It's what would have happened had she doubleprototyped with Mindfang's journal, perhaps.

Imagine Dualdadsprite, or Summonbullsprite… Momglaresprite! Oh man.

It's so sad, but yeah, I understand how the only thing Vriska can really do with her fucked up childhood… Is move away from it and leave it behind.

Dang if this wasn't an exquisite look behind her old blustery facade. I also like that she's shown in guardian mode now, as of being 12 sweeps old :D

And having grown out of FLARPing a little… Wow. Well, like John, maybe she'll find her way back into appreciating it. :D

Also crazy how this version of Mindfang is a mix of the book version & Vriska's FLARPsona.

And that Vriska has started comparing Vrissy favorably to herself!

In any case, cool for her to have closure on that part.

Now, I wonder if this means the rest of the conversations are less of a challenge for her and more a way to round things off.

But confronting Doc Scratch (if he's behind the cueball) and her inability to beat Lord English (if that's what the conversation behind Davepeta's feather is going to be about) might be tall hurdles for her to pass still!

[foreverknightalways]

Now he thinks that reasoning is the solution to every problem. Schanke asks, And you don't? Janette answers, I think if someone tries to take something from you, you strike back. That is what differentiates the winners from the losers. Schanke smiles and nods his head in agreement with Janette's comment.

[seriouslycromulent]

The Surprising Reason John Larroquette Took His Career-Defining Role on 'Night Court'

The comedy ninja reveals all this week's 'Parade' cover story.

MARA REINSTEIN

UPDATED:JAN 19, 2023

Get in a car and drive about 30 miles north of Portland, Oregon, into southwest Washington. That’s where you’ll find actor John Larroquette.

He and his wife, Elizabeth, have lived on a piece of rural property for about five years. He collects books and likes to narrate plays in his home recording studio. Sometimes the couple head into the city to try new restaurants and go to the theater and concerts. “It’s really beautiful,” he says. “And at my age, it’s time to slow down and be out somewhere.”

In fact, Larroquette is so fond of his far-from-Hollywood lifestyle that not too long ago, he considered himself retired from the business with a fulfilling career and a room full of trophies to show for it. Never did he think he’d return to grueling TV work, let alone reprise the very role that made him a household name.

Guess what happened next?

Yup, Larroquette, 75, is suiting back up as wise-cracking, endearingly smarmy lawyer Dan Fielding in a new version of the irreverent sitcom Night Court (premiering Jan. 17 on NBC). Set decades after the 1984-92 original, it still chronicles the colorful cast of characters passing through the New York City after-hours courtroom. But now, the Honorable Abby Stone (Melissa Rauch), the daughter of Judge Harry T. Stone (Harry Anderson), bangs the gavel.

Fielding starts the series as a process server, though not for long. “As an actor, I thought it would be an interesting idea to revisit a character 35 years later in his life and see what happened to him,” Larroquette says. “I can’t do the physical comedy and jump over chairs anymore, so my conversations with the producers were about how to find the funny.”

Call it the latest unexpected turn for a seasoned star who began his professional journey as a DJ for “underground” radio in the 1960s, moved from his native New Orleans to Los Angeles to jumpstart his career, once took a gig in exchange for marijuana, played a Klingon in the third Star Trek movie and completed rehab to kick his heavy drinking—all before his very first audition for Night Court in 1983. After the sitcom’s last episode, he won his fifth Emmy (for the drama The Practice) and a 2011 Tony for the Broadway revival of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. He and Elizabeth, wed for 47 years, have three grown children.

“I honestly wish I had a tape recorder going at all times because he’s led such an interesting life and has such wonderful stories,” marvels Rauch, his co-star and a Night Court executive producer. “He’s super-quick, funny and definitely tells it like it is.”

Exhibit A? His interview with Parade, in which he discusses life and death, and everything in between.

Did you sign on to the series right away or was it a tough sell?

When Melissa [Rauch] presented the idea to me, I immediately said, “No thank you.” I didn’t like the idea of being compared to my 35-year-old, younger self. These conversations went on for a year. Then, one day, she told me that she wanted to be on-camera as well, so I decided to try and do it. We ended up pitching the show together, and it got picked up. You know, in New Orleans, there’s a French word called “lagniappe,” which means “a little bonus.” That’s what I consider myself. She’s the heart of the show.

Sadly, a few of your co-stars—including Harry Anderson and Markie Post—have died in recent years. What was it like being on the set without them?

Very emotional. Harry passed away in 2018, but it’s still a tender spot in my heart because he and I were together for a long time even outside of work. Markie and I were very close, and we had exchanged a few emails about the show before she died [in 2021]. She was a big cheerleader for it. And Charlie [Robinson, who played the clerk “Mac”] died when we were shooting the pilot last year. I saw him a lot because we both love the theater. Being on the set—I don’t say this glibly—but it was like seeing dead people. I’d always remember how I had this bizarre and completely sincere family for nine years.

Going back to the 1980s, why did you originally take the Dan Fielding role?

It was a paycheck. This was 1983, and I was still a journeyman actor going from job to job. I was a regular on a series in the ‘70s [Baa Baa Black Sheep], but then I took a few years off to do some extremely heavy drinking. After I got sober and realized I wasn’t going to die, I thought, “What am I going to do?” I had been in a pretty big [1981] movie called Stripes with Bill Murray. I read for Ted Danson’s role in Cheers.

Wait, how far did you get in the Sam Malone casting process?

Oh, I just walked in and did a cold reading along with every other 32-year-old actor at the time. But then I auditioned for the judge in Night Court. The producers asked me to read for this other role of Dan Fielding and I said, “Sure.” Even if I hated the role, I would have taken it because I needed to make money to help pay the rent and support my family and be a responsible member of society. It was luck that I really liked it. Then I got lucky again when NBC picked up the show as a mid-season replacement.

During the height of the show’s popularity, you earned four consecutive Emmys for your performance. That must have felt beyond validating.

Obviously, being acknowledged by your contemporaries was an incredible honor. I don’t say that blithely. It was a remarkable, remarkable feeling. And I was up against some formidable talent—mainly all those guys from Cheers.

Why do you think the character was and is so appealing?

I think because he allowed the audience to know that he wasn’t a bad guy. He was more like a feckless buffoon. He also really wanted to be loved. As a matter of fact, in our pitch, we screened an old scene of Fielding in a hospital bed telling Harry, “I don’t have a life; I have a lifestyle. Nobody has ever said, ‘I love you.’” So when we find Fielding again, he’s loved and lost. And Harry’s daughter forces him out of his cave. It’s a real full-circle moment.

Let’s go back to your own start. Did you have any music skills coming out of New Orleans?

Well, I started playing clarinet in third grade, then I moved to the saxophone in the 1960s. But I euphemistically say that I could talk better than I could blow. So, I took that sax out of my mouth and became a DJ and started using my voice as much as I could. I’ve always loved the analog aspect of audio. I still have some reel-to-reel tape recordings and old microphones.

Is that how you ended up narrating the opening prologue for [the 1974 horror classic] The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?

No, no, that wasn’t through any kind of past work. In the summer of ‘69, I was working as a bartender at a small Colorado resort in a little town called Grand Lake because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life. [Director] Tobe Hooper happened to be in town and we became friendly. Flash forward four years, and I found myself in L.A. collecting unemployment checks and trying to decide if I wanted to be an actor. Tobe heard I was in town and asked for an hour of my time to narrate something for this movie he just did. I said, “Fine!” It was a favor.

Per the Internet, he gave you a joint in lieu of payment. True?

Totally true. He gave me some marijuana or a matchbox or whatever you called it in those days. I walked out of the studio and patted him on his back side and said, “Good luck to you!” Now, I have also narrated the consequential films and did get paid. You do something for free in the 1970s and get a little money in the ‘90s. I’m not a big horror movie fan, so I’ve never seen it. But it’s certainly the one credit that’s stuck strongly to my resume.

But you’ve appeared on the big screen plenty of times. Did you have movie-star aspirations following all your TV success?

The movies I’ve done are mostly forgettable. Blind Date [from 1987] is an exception, but that’s because of Bruce Willis and Kim Basinger. And Blake Edwards directed it. It was funny. But my face is not made for a really big screen. It’s a broad, clown-like face. It’s good for a TV two-shot. And you ride the horse in the direction that it’s going and television was always right there and offering me stuff, so I kept doing that.

You also performed in a musical for the first time in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying in 2010. How was that change of pace?

I was hesitant to do it because I had never sung and danced on stage. I was convinced I was going to be fired in the first two or three weeks. I’d keep going in my head, “five, six, seven, eight!” just trying to get the steps down. But I loved the lifestyle of being a stage actor in New York. I loved working with Daniel Radcliffe, and we became fast friends. It got to a point where I couldn’t wait to get to the theater and try it again that night. If you’re given the opportunity to do something that may be a stretch, I think it’s important to try and see if you can pull it off.

Can you talk a bit about your personal life? You seem a little reclusive.

Reclusive isn’t accurate, but I’m definitely an introvert. Elizabeth and I met doing the play Enter Laughing and got married in 1975. She puts up with me, and you can’t ask for much more than that. Our kids are grown. My daughter Lisa is a graphic designer and my son Jonathan has had a podcast for the past 17 years called Uhh Yeah Dude. And my youngest son, Ben, is a musician who graduated from the Berklee School of Music. He actually composed the new theme music for Night Court. They’re all lovely, and I love them dearly.

That’s quite a professional and personal success story, no?

You know, considering where I’m from and the kind of culture I grew up in, yes. I’ve been very successful in my chosen field. And I’m grateful for having done that because there were times when I thought I would not live, much less have a career. It’s nothing to be taken for granted. But I’m very old now. Three quarters of a century. I’m sort of playing with house money from now on, regardless of what happens.

Sorry, but 75 isn’t very old!

Yes, it’s old. It’s old. Please. It’s old. There are certainly people who live longer, but I can go down the list of wonderful friends and coworkers who are now deceased. One being Kirstie Alley, my costar in [the 1990 comedy] Madhouse, who was younger than I am. She was a lovely person, and so funny. There are only a few more exits on the freeway and you’ve got to choose one. But I’m not afraid of the hereafter and I don’t bemoan it. It’s been an interesting ride, and all rides eventually end.

Do you have any sort of words to live by?

As corny as it sounds, take things one day at a time. You know, I learned when I stopped drinking at age 32 that all you have is right now. Use the present in your life as much as you can.

Source: https://parade.com/celebrities/john-larroquette-night-court-cover-story

-----

My thoughts (please feel free to ignore):

I'm sure someone in the fandom has already posted this interview John did last year with Parade magazine when the new Night Court premiered. But I can say that it's new to me, so I'm sharing it in case it's new to someone else too.

I apologize for the highlighted purple sections above. That's just me marking the parts of the interview that resonated with me the most.

I don't know about anyone else, but some parts of his answers to the questions made me feel kind of sad. Partially because he's clearly experiencing grief at the loss of his friends. And partially because John himself may not be with us for much longer (although I hope I'm wrong and he beats Betty White to 100).

But I was talking to my mother about some of his answers, and she said that as someone who has reached an age milestone herself, she understands his perspective. And I guess I do too.

It's important to remember that in any other profession, John would likely be retired by now. So we should really be grateful for any roles he takes or public appearances he makes, and hope that his days ahead are filled with the calm, joy and laughter that he so rightly deserves.

[sherlockholmes-real]

Kinktober day 5- Against a Wall

Sherlock BBC- Johnlock

Most of the people apart from Lestrade and John disliked Sherlock at Scotland Yard. Which makes sense. He is a bit of an ass. Sherlock likes to really think it doesn't get to him, and most of the time, it doesn't, but he can only get called a freak so many times before it starts to.

He never talks about it with anyone because it's not that serious. And even though John might not be the best at deductions, he can tell when Sherlock makes that slight micro-expression at the words Donovan calls him.

Today was especially berating. He said one thing that pissed her off, and there she went with the string of insults coming at him. Sure, he was a prick at times, but that's just who he is.

"You know that's not true, right?" John asked him, Sherlock looked up front whatever it was he was writing.

"What are you on about, John?" Sherlock said looking annoyed.

John pauses for a moment, "all the stuff Donovan says to you."

He shrugs in response, "I don't care what she says."

John takes a step closer to him, "Yes, you do."

"Are you trying to deduce me, John?" He says a little bit jokingly, looking John in the eyes.

"I'm not trying to deduce you, I am deducing you, and I deduce that it hurts your feelings." John looks slightly proud of himself.

"My feelings are hardly susceptible to change, and they don't get hurt, thats a physical aspect of a person, not a mental." Sherlock says, looking back down at the case file. He seems to be done with this conversation.

John decides to drop it and just bring it back up when they're home later.

~~~

They don't end up at home that night, though. They end up on a probably many hour long case. There was a murder of a lady not much different than what they were used to. Sherlock was doing his thing, pacing around the room. Everyone was quiet. Everyone except Donovan and Anderson muttering to Sherlocks disdain. "Can you shut up?" He snapped at the two of them.

Donovans eyes narrowed in his direction. "If you're so good at this, can't you use your freaky powers while we talk?"

"No, actually, your voice is like nails on a chalkboard to my brain. Quiet." Sherlock sighs placing his fingers to his temples.

She looks over to Lestrade, "If we keep working with weirdos like this, I'm going to scream. Look at him, he's a fucking freak, he's never been smart, he's just lucky." Throwing her hands up in the air when Lestrade and John give her a look essentially saying 'what the fuck' she leaves and Anderson follows.

Sherlock stands there for a moment, eyes wide and upset looking, not usually one to show emotion on his face like that John was concerned, to say the least. He stormed out of the room in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.

"Are you gonna-" Lestrade started to say

"Yeah, yeah, I'll go get him." John sighed and started to walk towards the door Sherlock went through.

"Okay, good, because he likes you more than me, and well, you know." Lestrade was just rambling as John walked away.

He walked through the door and down the hallway. Even though he didn't know this building, he assumed he'd know where Sherlock would go pretty well. He looks around and then opens another door to the outside into an alleyway. There's Sherlock, not crying, not hitting things, just standing there. He's thinking John can tell by the look on his face. "Sherlock?" John walks over to him slowly.

He turns to look at John, his expression softening, "Do you think I'm a freak, John?"

John looks shocked by the question, "Absolutely not, I think you're the most brilliant man I've ever met."

"That's what I assumed, but I'm never quite sure about that." Sherlock smiled slightly.

John takes another step closer, the two closer than they had been in most situations ever, "Don't doubt it, Sherlock, you're perfect."

"I'm far from it." Sherlock sighs, he likes being close to John, the cold air bitter against his face, he's inches from everything he's ever wanted.

"Hardly, you're perfect in your own, Sherlock way." John pauses, his hand reaching up to hold Sherlocks face, "My perfect, Sherlock Holmes."

"John, I-" Sherlock stuttered for probably the first time in his life ever.

"Can I show you just how perfect you are?" John was asking him for permission to do exactly what Sherlock thought he was doing.

He stared at John for a second, "Yes." He blinked, "Please do."

John leaned in slowly for a kiss, and Sherlock reciprocated quickly. He had never really done anything like this, but he knew he wanted to do it with John. Sherlock leaned down more to further intensify the kiss, and John pulled him in closer by the waist. They were flush against each other, the heat evident. The cold is hardly even remeberable now.

John pulls away for just a moment, "You're so perfect, don't forget it."

"It's hard for me to forget things, I mean, logically." Sherlock started to say before John shut him up by kissing him again. John's tongue slipped into Sherlocks, and they were making out. Sherlock had never made out with anyone. He had crushes before but never more than that. He never would have thought John would be doing this to him, and he was just giving in to it. He's really happy its John though, he might not be the best with emotions but he knows he's been in love with John since they day they met and that's what matters to him.

He leaned into it, did it just the way his body told him to, and John, he had experience, but it had never felt like this. So electric and powerful. He pushed Sherlock up against the cold brick of the wall, his knee between Sherlocks leg keeping him pulled down to where he could reach him easily.

Sherlock wasn't sure what to do with his hands really, he settled for one on John's neck and the other on his face, sort of caressing his face. John's hands, though, started to trail down a bit to feel Sherlock through his tight dress trousers. He was already rock hard, and John smiled into the kiss slightly. Sherlock rocked his hips into John's hand involuntarily, and John laughs a little bit. John pulls sway from the kiss, and Sherlock leans into him, wanting more. "So needy Sherlock, how long have you wanted this?" John asks him, rubbing his hand ever so slightly on the others cock.

"A long time," he let's out a small sound of relief, "one year, seven months, and thirteen days to be exact."

"Leave it to you to know the exact day and time. What is that date?" John asks him.

"Mmhm, that's uh," Sherlock moans, "that's the day we met."

"How romantic of you, see look Sherlock, the more you tell me the more perfect you are." John says quietly, and Sherlocks' expression changes almost as if the words turned him on more. He starts to remove Sherlocks trousers, pulling them down to his ankles. He then pulls down Sherlocks underwear, his dick fully erect and begging for attention. He then pulls off his own, and Sherlock watches in pure awe.

"We don't have any lube, so I'm gonna have to use spit. Is that okay, love?" John asks Sherlock, and he nods, face flushed. John prods his fingers into Sherlocks mouth, "Suck." He complies and sucks on the fingers as he was told. Once John decides it's probably good enough, he pulls his fingers from Sherlocks mouth. He uses his other hand to turn the taller man around and push him once again up against the wall.

His finger pushes against the tight ring of muscle. Once his first finger is in and moving with a decent pace, he adds the second. Sherlock pushes himself against John's fingers, wanting him to go deeper into him. John moves his fingers in a scissoring motion, trying to open Sherlock up as much as possible. John then decides that he's loose enough for him to get in there he spits into his hand and lubes up his dick as much as possible.

"Are you ready, Sherlock?" John asks him, his hand rubbing his lower back.

"Yes, just put the damn thing in me." Sherlock whines getting impatient. John complies and pushes his dick in slowly inch by inch. The spit isn't the best lube, but it's not dry, and that's what matters. John finally gets all the way in, and Sherlock starts to rock his hips back and forth.

"God, you're so beautiful, Sherlock, such a perfect man just for me," John pulls his hips back and then pushes back into Sherlock, causing him to whimper, "such a good boy." John says rubbing Sherlocks back while he fucks into him.

Sherlock wiggles slightly his legs obviously getting wobbly, John presses his chest to Sherlocks back, fucking him harder essentially into the hard brick wall. Sherlock lets out a string of curse words and whimpery moans. If nobody heard him, he'd be surprised. He didn't really mind at the moment though, he probably wouldn't care either way, what he cared about was John Watson was fucking him and it felt so damn good.

John as he was edging closer, drug his hand down to feel Sherlocks quivering cock. He jerked off Sherlock at the same pace in which he fucked him. "John, I feel like I'm about to cum."

"Good, that's good, cum for me? Can you cum for me Sherlock." He whispered in his ear his thrusts getting shakier. Sherlock nodded his forehead against the cold wall. "Yes, fuck yes." With those words he came all over the wall, his cum splattering looking like a paint job gone wrong. A few moments after he came John also was cumming, he decided to pull out of Sherlock, mostly because they were still working and he also came on the wall next to him.

Sherlock stayed there, his forehead pressed against the wall for a moment before the cold air hit him, "John." He spoke.

John pulling his pants on, "Yes Sherlock?"

"You did mean it, right?" Sherlock asked. He wasn't the most sexually smart person.

"The sex?" John responded.

"Yeah."

John smiles, lightly placing a kiss onto Sherlocks lips, "Of course I did."

(Sorry, my posts have been so out of wack, I'm gonna get them back on track. I've just been away on vacation.)

[valle-de-sombra-de-muerte]

Homestuck Reread: Act 2, Part 3/3 (p. 615-759)

Read the previous post here.

Time to finally wrap up Act 2.

John builds a tent which Rose promptly tosses out the window. Umm... based???

This is Rose's polite way of saying that she's speeding things along since John has mostly been puttering around up to this point.

How many times can Hussie write "listless octoroon" before the NAACP is notified? Seriously, what's his obsession with that phrase? Is it because it sort of borders on being a racial slur without actually being one, so he can use it to his heart's delight and not worry about being called racist? This is the same dude who made Team Special Olympics so I'm not that surprised by his sense of humor.

I'm sure this spurious anecdote of Harry Anderson accidentally chopping off some dude's finger might be amusing for some. I'm not familiar at all with him though, so this does nothing for me.

John's lazy ass sure isn't taking this whole "saving the world" thing very seriously. This is like trying to get your Sim to do chores but they'd rather play video games instead. If only this really was The Sims and she made him drown in a pool or trapped him in a room with no doors.

Rose has honestly been holding his hand the entire way, building up the path to the gate, and even killing most of the imps herself. This is really Rose's game and John is a pawn she has to nudge along toward the goal. I should really accept at this point that John is not the protagonist this story deserves.

Jade's silhouette is briefly teased during this flash where John is asleep. Hussie really wants to keep hyping her up for some reason.

Jade's conversation with John plays out similarly to the one she had with Rose. However, while Rose casts suspicion on Jade's eerie precognition, John is a moron who just goes along with whatever she says. She's straight up gaslighting him here.

Rose and Dave throwing shade at Jade behind her back, combined with the fact that neither of them told her about Sburb, makes it seem like she's an outsider in her own friend group. The way she's able to manipulate John despite the caution expressed by his other friends makes me question again why exactly she wasn't cast as a villain. The pieces are all there!

You know, Nannasprite is also selective about the info she provides to John, but it's explained that the sprites are programmed to act that way. The game intends them to be helpful little tutorial NPCs that dispense info but not too much as to spoil the mysteries of the game. What's Jade's excuse, huh? Is she an NPC too?

And she immediately changes the subject and John rolls with it because he only has one brain cell. I cannot stress enough that Jade's pesterlogs are the most aggravating thing to read thus far.

These ogres have been tailing John for quite some time. We've been getting occasional shots of them getting closer and closer, leading up to this moment. It's some good tension and buildup to what should be John's first big challenge in the game.

But instead of following up with that we go back to Dave for his confrontation with Bro. Okay I guess? I didn't mention it before, but it's a cute detail that Bro makes a reference to Dave's comic in his note.

This is a really good flash, all things considered. Maybe we can execute both fights simultaneously and establish some parallels between how John and Dave overcome their respective adversaries.

The Strider fight is interrupted so we can turn our attention to... the Wayward Vagabond. Oh yeah, there's a brief moment in the flash where it seems like we're going to pivot to Jade's intro, before we turn to WV. I don't know why Hussie keeps pretending like it's going to be so huge when she's finally introduced when all it's going to amount to is a kick in the balls.

Up to this point, we only really got to know WV through his use of the command console. I really did not care for his little "conflict" with John during this time. It wasn't funny, it dragged the pace down while these two butted heads, and it felt like an unnecessary addition to how the storytelling works. What is there to be gained by introducing these command centers where third parties can interact with the characters? If WV can talk to John, who's talking to WV? We had an established third-person, omniscient "reader" that could interact with all the characters, so I suppose it's supposed to be them. But that whole mechanic has become all but obsolete by this point.

Once again, this is not Problem Sleuth. This command interface doesn't work since the reader doesn't have any control over these characters. Hussie clearly had aims to tell his own story without user influence, so this whole storytelling device really shouldn't have existed in the first place.

WV's love of democracy and his desire to be a mayor feels at odds with how bossy he was with John. He didn't try to foster a rapport with John at all, acting more like the tyrants he very much despises.

WV's character is very erratic. He has delusions of grandeur, wishes to be respected and taken seriously, and apparently has no patience for the antics of others. He hates it when John is screwing around and also voices his displeasure when the "reader" inputs a command he finds to be nonsensical.

Yet he is also quite prone to silly behavior and quickly becomes a source of comic relief. This kind of unpredictable behavior can be explained later when we learn of the trauma he suffered on the battlefield. But looking at these antics through that lens does suck a lot of the joy out of them. It's like watching your senile grandfather playing with toy soldiers and reenacting the battles he fought in.

Knowing his backstory and how much of a tragic character WV later turns out to be, it's a little disheartening to see how the fandom at large treats him as this quirky little mascot/pet for the other characters. I don't have anything else to add to that, I just think it sucks.

Anyway, I don't mind the WV stuff too much, but I have to question why we're taking time to focus on him when we could be focusing more on the other characters' plots. This whole section is 91 pages. Surely something more productive could've been used with those pages before the act's end. Why couldn't this have waited for the next act? It's jarring to have this random bout of comic relief at a point in the story where important conflicts should be resolved.

WV finds a stockpile of Tab and becomes enamored with the drink. I don't understand why it's constantly referred to as sugary. It's a zero-sugar soda, so is that part of the joke? Tab is a really dated brand to reference. I don't even remember being it widely available by the time Homestuck was being written. So how many readers would be able to catch that joke? I don't think Hussie knew just how young his audience was going to skew.

Yes, WV's commands were a real waste of time. A rare moment of self-awareness by Hussie, even if I doubt that it registered with him.

It's worth noting that WV considers the green slime unappetizing, even though he previously ate chalk and uranium purely because they were colored green.

[S] WV: Ascend is the End of Act flash for Act 2. It's much grander than Act 1's flash in every way. Lots of great shots, and "Explore" is a really good track. It also goes to show how much more complex things have gotten since Act 1. While the previous flash was focused entirely on John, this one teases the cliffhangers for WV, Rose, Dad, and Dave's individual plots. This cast of characters is ballooning quickly and things are only going to get more convoluted from here.

Is it ever revealed who exactly built the frog temple when the meteor crashed on Earth? This was during the distant past when there wasn't even an ocean, so life didn't exist yet. Did it come into being on its own? I don't care for that.

Enter: Bro. Out of all the cliffhangers presented in this flash, this one is the most hype. Look at the imposing figure his silhouette cuts. You just know this fight is going to be big when we finally get to it.

Act 2 is a mixed bag. I appreciated Rose and Dave's segments, but John and WV's were a big letdown. The plot (or at least John's side of it) is moving along at a snail's pace when it really shouldn't have been. This should've been a big tonal shift where we leave reality and are plunged into the game's world, yet it's mostly trudging along at the same unhurried pace as the previous Act.

The Act should've been very straightforward. It presents us with a clear goal quite early on: John needs to get to the gate that's far out of reach. Okay, how is that accomplished? By John futzing around, arguing with WV, and occasionally fighting imps and collecting grist. Not exactly the most engaging means of solving this problem. And by the end of it, he hasn't even reached the gate! Nothing of note has been accomplished.

We learn about punch card alchemy and more about the cosmology of the Furthest Ring, but I honestly couldn't care less about this world building. It's all so expository and the story takes a great big halt whenever we have to read about it. Yeah Hussie, it sure is cool how you can craft items by combining their cards. It's also great how you made this chess society that's perpetually at war. I sure hope this has some payoff and isn't just window dressing to disguise how little the plot has actually progressed.

I was hoping this Act would lift my spirits and get me engaged with the comic, but all this meandering has left me discouraged. Maybe Act 3 will be better? Oh wait, that's the real Jade-heavy Act, isn't it? Oh fu-

Read the next post here.