#Mr. John

[newyorkthegoldenage]

A lady passing by the shop of Mr. John, milliner to the stars, is attracted by an extravagant model in the window. 57th Street, ca. 1950.

Photo: Al Barry via Three Lions/Getty Images

[themidcenturyscene]

Vogue, September 15, 1954

Mary Jane Russell in black, chiffon wool broadcloth suit buttoned up to a white satin fill-in by Harvey Berin, white panne velvet sheath hat by Mr. John, photo by Horst

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue April 1, 1962

Wilhelmina Cooper Wears a gray wool flannel suit over a Moygashel pink linen blouse. By Bradley. Ottoman helmet by Mr. John. Lipstick: Dana's Singapore.

Hair Ruel of Coiffures Americana.

Wilhelmina Cooper Porte un tailleur en flanelle de laine grise, sur un chemisier en lin rose Moygashel. Par Bradley. Casque ottoman par Mr. John. Rouge à lèvres : Dana's Singapore.

Coiffure Ruel de Coiffures Americana

Photo Irving Penn vogue archive

[connorsui]

"Girls like it when men ignore em"

LIEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSS

I WANT THAT MAN OBSESSED WITH ME

I WANT HIM THINKING ABOUT ME LIKE A PRAYER, EVERY BREATH, EVERY MOVE, EVERY CHOICE HE MAKES ANCHORED TO ME. I WANT HIM LOSING SLEEP BECAUSE THE IDEA OF ME IS TOO LOUD IN HIS HEAD TO LET HIM REST. I WANT HIM TO LOOK AT ME LIKE I’M THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS—LIKE THE WORLD COULD BURN TO ASHES AROUND US AND HE WOULDN’T CARE AS LONG AS I’M STILL STANDING THERE.

I WANT HIM TO SPEAK MY NAME LIKE IT’S SACRED, TO LOOK AT ME LIKE I HOLD THE UNIVERSE IN MY HANDS. TO BE HAUNTED BY THE SOUND OF MY LAUGH, THE TRACE OF MY SCENT ON HIS SKIN, THE MEMORY OF MY TOUCH. I WANT HIS OBSESSION TO BORDER ON MADNESS, TO FEEL ME IN EVERY PART OF HIM LIKE A HUNGER HE CAN’T EVER SATISFY.

I WANT TO BE HIS FIRST THOUGHT

[contact-guy]

THE DYING DETECTIVE - part 3 - part 1 - part 2 - "to the last gasp he would always be the master" - there is at least one panel that made me laugh while drawing it so I hope it makes you laugh, too. It's the least I could do.

This will most likely be the last update for a few weeks - going to England on a trip (where Sherlock Holmes lives!!! omg!) - when I return it will be for a cozy early Christmas special, THE BLUE CARBUNCLE.

(This is in the Watsons sketchbook series!)

[angel-bitch-boy]

ah ha ha no girl don't use Vampirism, Religion, and/or Cannibalism as a metaphor for all consuming love and obsession you're so sexy ah ha

[holmesoldfellow]

Sherlock Holmes Christmas card by Olivia Moy ( @luckychinacat ) (2019)

[biggiesizeyourcombo]

[linnytheseagull]

A gothic literature hyperfixation has possessed me so I made this

(This took way longer to make than it reasonably should have)

[critter-wizard]

"tenderly......"

[oceantornadoo]

“captain john price. surely you’ve heard of him?” the secretary blinks at you, faking a smile. “oh, that john! and who are you?” you want to rip her lashes off one by one. “his wife.”

that gets her to stop blinking, to actually look at your ID. “your last name isn’t price.” the gall. “it’s the twenty first century, sweetheart. now check the list and let me through.” she diligently checks the list, nodding at the match. seemingly gone mute, she gestures at you to follow her as she walks down the base hallway, passing countless doors and plaques. she stops outside of his door, doe eyes locked on the name plaque. one knock, then two. “sir, there’s someone here for you. your wife.” a pause and then. “send ‘er in.”

she opens the door and gestures you in. you can’t help the smile that grows on your face as you take in the sight of your surly man, a cigar in hand as he overlooks paperwork. he looks up at the click clack of your heels with a smirk matching your own. dropping your bag on the nearby couch, you round the very large wooden desk to stand in between his legs, john already having turned to welcome you in. there’s just one thing missing. “you can go now.” you turn your head owl-like to meet the secretary’s eyes, noting the shock on her face. she closes her gaping mouth abruptly, then shuts the door with no further ceremony.

“wasn’t aware we got married.” you turn your attention back to john, whose hands are already trailing down your calves to take off your heels as you stand on his comfy office rug. you hum as he removes them one at a time, callused hands brushing the frail bone of your ankle, the arch of your foot. once that’s done, your hands slide into his beard on instinct, settling yourself in his wide lap and thanking the ikea gods he has a humongous chair. “your secretary is pushy.” he snorts, leaning a weathered cheek into your touch. “she’s new.” you cut him off with a kiss, lips brushing his like you’ve been wanting to for days. missing the feel of his skin, the scent of cedar and cigars, lonely and pining for him in bed.

“you haven’t been home in three days, johnathon.” the full name comes out when you’re mad or playing at it, a sly trick to make sure he doesn’t know which is which. unfortunately he can read you too well and ignores your schemes anyways. “mission’s movin’ fast, lovie. been only sleepin’ a couple hours here and there.” you steady yourself on his lap, pushing closer and closer until your pelvises meet. “where?” his eyes flick to the office couch and you hum.

“i’ve missed you.” it rushes out like a wave, too intimate to take back. you shouldn’t be showing your cards so soon but he smiles anyways, blue eyes gleaming. “that why you’re terrorizing the office staff?” you nod against him, too choked up for a proper answer. can’t describe how cold and desolate you are without him to warm you up, inside and out. “i’ve missed y’ too, sweetheart. your feelings aren’t too big f’ me, don’t worry.” he always gets you, unfortunately. you lay your head down on his heartbeat, purring as his hands caress your ass and thighs. “i’ve missed my big strong man taking me to bed.” you emphasize it with a hip roll, grinning at his groan.

“ yeah, baby? missed daddy treating you righ’?” you groan at his embarrassing words. “johnnn, you can’t just say shit like that.” he laughs again, beard brushing the top of your head. “can if it’s true.” you sigh, planting a kiss on his collarbone. “hav’ to get used to that talk if you want the wife excuse to be real one day.” you freeze at his words. surely not. but…maybe? you have to check. “your wife?” the hands that have been exploring pinch your ass, sending you further into his arms. “tha’ alright?” you contemplate it. mrs. price. nice ring to it. “yeah,” you nod, and that’s that.

—

slight misogynistic undertones at the bitchy secretary but it’s fiction oops

[sweaty-toothed-mad-woman]

I noticed something in dps

in film class last year they taught us that when shooting dialogue you show connections by putting the back of someone in the shot or smth i don’t really remember BUT

in the “I’m trapped” scene when Neil is telling Mr Keating about how his dad won’t let him act it shows Mr K, therefore showing that Neil feels like Mr Keating really understands

but right after Me Keating says that Neil should tell his father it no longer shows them together in the shot because Neil feels alone again, because he realizes that Mr K doesn’t fully understand his plight

so now I’m crying

thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[thegunslingerletmedrop]

[connorsui]

How that one faceless man in my dreams holding my non-existent baby has me as he tells me how much he loves me and wishes to have me near ...

UGHHH-

[contact-guy]

THE BLUE CARBUNCLE part 3 - part 1 - part 2 - with one more to come! MR. HOLMES it is very difficult to conceal injures from a trained doctor (who happens to be obsessed with you)!!

also just wanted to say - I'm so sorry to all the folks who couldn't get copies of Volume 1 of the Sketchbook - I'm working on a much larger print run and a pre order system so everyone can get one :) your support truly means the world to me, stay tuned!

(this is the Watson's Sketchbook series!)

[chialattea]

Oh so YOU GUYS can monologue for hours but my man yorick tries to have a nice conversation after regaining his ability to speak AND YOU GANG UP ON HIM???? I see how it is!!! The double standards are crazy!!!