#and that is all john will ever see in himself. someone who blights existence by his very breath

[talentforlying]

tommy: john? constantine: mm? tommy: he had your laugh.

the way this almost made me cry just now, like!! the family man looking like john's father (who john resembles) and reminding john of himself, the demon constantine being his own double, the tulpa of the happiest possible version of himself who still turned out to be a raging monster — his scariest enemies keep ending up being versions of him.

his greatest fear is becoming a monster and he keeps coming up against that fear again and again and again. no wonder he avoids his own eyes when he looks in the mirror.

[homespork-review]

Homespork Act 4, Part 1: Blight of the Paradox Clones

BRIGHT: Act 4 opens on a loading sequence titled ‘GATE 1’, and then there’s a short pan down through firefly-dotted clouds to a dim blue landscape called the Land of Wind and Shade. John manifests at ground-level and it’s time for another walk-around game!

The icon in the upper right corner opens a conversation with Nannasprite, who’s still back in the house. Apparently she can’t accompany John around the Land, but she can certainly give him puzzling half-answers to any questions he might have. John asks her point-blank if she was always cryptic and evasive or if that’s a sprite thing, but she predictably avoids answering.

John wanders around the Land, getting into fights with (oddly non-aggressive) imps for grist. The Land is very atmospheric, with glowing blue mushrooms and odd pipes everywhere. It’s also inhabited by large, excitable, bipedal orange salamanders who blow bubbles and dispense information about the Land. One of them has acquired John’s bedsheets and is now calling itself a wizard.

A salamander standing by one of the pipes explains that it’s called a Parcel Pyxis. If you need something, you can chisel a picture of whatever it is into a stone tablet and drop it into a Parcel Pyxis. If you find a tablet, and you have what’s carved into it, it’s polite to drop it into the Pyxis and the Breeze will take it where it needs to go. (Just what the Breeze is isn’t explained yet, but given the name of the Land, it’s fair to assume an explanation will be forthcoming in due time, and it’s thematically consistent.)

While wandering, John finds a telescope. Looking through it, he sees his house, perched waaaaaay at the top of a very tall, very narrow rocky crag. He also finds a very large pipe sunk into the ground. He can hear something very, very big breathing at the bottom.

There are definite pros and cons to these games, but on the whole I like them. They’re more immersive than the usual comic panels, and it’s nice to do some self-directed wandering. On the other hand, it’s easy to miss something in a walk-around game, which hardly ever happens with comic panels…

FAILURE ARTIST: The Salamanders crack me up. Good parody of NPC chatter.

CHEL: Comic panels of the walkaround are included later on, so if you really hate the games you can read it straightforwardly.

John is confused by now being below his house when he went through a portal above it; Nanna cryptically claims that “To ascend, you must first descend!”

BRIGHT: With the game out of the way (it doesn’t really have a defined end point), we return to normal comic panels — and also to the future. AR is embroiled in a shootout with the snakes from PM’s ship, which are now firing laser beams. A stray blast decapitates the frog temple. AR returns fire with a rocket launcher. His first shot takes out the snake. The second knocks WV flying. WV lands behind a rock, and the carved pumpkin lands on his head. AR lines up his next shot...and pauses.

The carved image of Bec’s head seems to mean something to AR, because he immediately ceases fire and comes down to start yelling at WV. This turns out to be a poor move on his part: PM still has her sword, and she is not pleased.

I really, really like PM as a character. She has no dialogue whatsoever and still projects massive amounts of integrity.

The comic returns to Jade. She’s retrieved Dave’s Sburb discs from the time capsule, which is clearly going to move the plot along...

Looks like the TIME CAPSULE has reset itself. It is sprouting a new bud. Presumably something else will come out when it blooms again in about 400 years. Too bad you won't be around to find out what it is!

...aaaaaaand we go into sylladex shenanigans again.

I will say this for sylladex tomfoolery: It absolutely can break up tension and provide some lighter stretches in the plot. The problem is that these don’t always feel natural. I find them less annoying now and can appreciate the humour, but they really bugged me the first time around.

Still, Jade’s use of her sylladex does at least speak to her character.

Jade eventually settles on Pictionary modus, which means she has to draw a picture of whatever she wants to captchalogue. If she doesn’t have the drawn item to hand, her modus instead captures a “ghost image” of the item on a card, complete with alchemiter code. Handy! Unfortunately the modus has some trouble understanding Jade’s drawings, interpreting her picture of her eclectic bass as a regular electric bass.

Bec then catches up and teleports Jade back to her room. In a demonstration of unusual good sense, Jade promptly gets on with installing the Sburb Beta.

Back in the Land of Wind and Shade, John pesters Rose to ask if she’s here on the other side of the gate, in the “spooky glowy place with oily rivers and stuff”. She doesn’t respond. He does however get pestered by Jade, who is now awake and therefore fully aware of what Sburb is (much to John’s confusion). She tells him to go get his copy of the game so he can be her server player. John is convinced Jade is psychic, but she tells him that he has access to all the information she does, he just doesn’t know it yet.

Meanwhile, Dave is also trying to get in touch with Rose, also to no effect. Jade pesters him and they have a cute conversation in which Jade forgets how a reference goes, but Dave assures her she got it anyway. She tells him she’s setting up as his server player and shows him a picture of the meteor aimed at his house. There are no size comparison points available but Jade assures him that it’s really, really big.

TG: well as if like one the size of a bus wouldnt kill me anyway

FAILURE ARTIST: Dave describes his beating from his Guardian as “i got served like a dude on butler island” and Jade says it’s “(DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA)”. It’s hard to take the abuse seriously when none of the characters do.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 14

BRIGHT: In the Medium, John is getting pestered by carcinoGeneticist again. We now have a picture icon for CG. Look familiar? Yup, it’s the guy from the end of the Intermission.

So I guess this is the first time in the main comic that we get confirmed, visual proof that the trolls are aliens? It’s hard to point to, since the trolls get introduced gradually.

I’ve no idea how this was received in fandom when it first happened, but by the time I got to Homestuck, the fact that the trolls were grey folks with horns was probably the most famous feature of the canon, so...not so much of an impact. Still pretty cool though.

FAILURE ARTIST: I wish I could remember how the fandom took it.

The trolls in these early acts make a big deal all the time about how they are alien and the kids are human. It’s an amusing parody of the way aliens act in fiction but it is weird when the trolls become actual characters and we find out their psychology is surprisingly human most of the time.

CHEL: Hence the WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM count. That’ll spike later.

BRIGHT: CG is unexpectedly friendly this time. Apparently he’s been trolling John backwards through time, which is frustrating as each earlier John knows less and less, so CG keeps having to repeat himself. (Which...doesn’t make much sense? He’d have to explain more obvious stuff, sure, but John would remember things he was told in later-from-CG’s-perspective conversations, so...ugh, time travel!) Despite this frustration, however, John’s relentless friendliness apparently wore the trolls down and now they’re friends. Or at least CG thinks they are. John is less than convinced.

CHEL:

John asks if the trolls are in his land, but CG berates him for self-centredness:

CG: WE HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR DUMB LITTLE WINDY PLANET OR YOUR PETTY LITTLE QUESTS. CG: OR FOR THAT MATTER YOUR ENTIRE GAME SESSION. CG: YOU AREN'T THE ONLY ONES PLAYING THE GAME. CG: EVERY GROUP OF PLAYERS GETS THEIR OWN DISTINCT, BLANK SLATE SESSION. CG: AS WILL BE EXPLAINED TO YOU MANY TIMES.

He instructs John to relay an apology for the trolling to Jade and to tell her to GET HER GROSS AND TOTALLY UNATTRACTIVE HUMAN BUTT OFF HER UGLY HUMAN HIGH HORSE AND ANSWER MY MESSAGES. John says he’s a bit focused on his own quest right now, and sets off to find his father’s car.

TIER: While that's happening, we cut back to the gaggle of aliens having a grand old time around a campfire with some good food. A familiar pair of squiddles, now old, is visible as well.

FAILURE ARTIST: AR/PM/WV was a popular OT3 back in the day but you never see it anymore.

CHEL: Pity. It’s adorable.

FAILURE ARTIST: We cut to Dave’s place, where Jade is setting things up for the game. The air conditioning unit helps with the process, but the birds everywhere don’t. Dave drops the r-slur.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 16

Rose also talks with Dave as this is going on. She says this to him.

TT: I've done nothing but wait for boys to play this game with me all day. TT: First John lollygagging with the client, and then you with the server, downright filibustering my existence with unending fraternal melee. TT: And yet a girl, one who didn't even own the game, was able to connect with you minutes after you connected with me.

I’ve seen this quoted as Rose/Jade Lesbian Power but I wish we had more scenes where the two actually talked to each other.

CHEL: Being happy that one of your friends is competent means you’re in love with them now? And yet if someone used that as evidence for a het ship they’d be run out of the fandom. Anyway, Jade removes Dave’s bed to make room.

TT: And there she goes. TT: She HAS the karma.

FAILURE ARTIST: Rose has been talking to a troll, but she doesn’t know the gender so uses “he/she/it”. Funny to think there was a time when we didn’t know the trolls’ gender. Particularly the gender of Rose’s favorite troll...

Jade tries to tidy up the apartment using “a woman’s touch” a.k.a. a towel drenched in toilet water. Which begs the question of how her home is spotless.

CHEL: Because Hussie is again not thinking through the implications of the living situations as presented, and/or trying to present things as simultaneously a joke and serious. To be fair, considering the dreambot, she could have a super hi-tech cleaning system, or Bec could teleport the dirt away, but if so, we ought to see that.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 10 ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 15

FAILURE ARTIST: In doing so, she accidentally rips the toilet out and drops an F-bomb.

CHEL: We now get a video of Rose’s location, the LAND OF LIGHT AND RAIN. Her house is now perched on a tiny island surrounded by glimmering pastel oil-slick-looking water, a waterfall pouring down out of nowhere beside it, with golden clouds scattered around pouring rain. It’s very pretty!

We again see the carapaces finding things in the ruins, and WV brings PM to see inside the bunker. The blast earlier formed an entry into the third room which had been locked, which contains further devices, this one with more spirographs and a frog picture on it; WV doesn’t know what this one does and the power’s too low to use it anyway. Back in the room with the monitors, PM is impressed by WV’s drawings and he offers her the pack of chalk. AR, meanwhile, cooks food.

PM recognises the monitor as similar to the one in her own station, though hers was watching a girl. Here, we get the static panels of the runaround game, from PM’s point of view.

Back in LoLaR, a mysterious textbox in cursive addresses Rose as Seer, suggesting she explore. Recall that the book mentioned the Heir of Breath, the Seer of Light, the Witch of Space, and the Knight of Time. Since Jade is the one who’s been doing the Seer-ing so far, I’ve seen readers assume she was the Seer and Rose the Witch, but it seems not; further explanations of what those titles really mean are forthcoming.

Sudden cut back to John’s land, where the village is under attack! Huts are aflame, and much bigger and more powerful monsters have arrived.

In Dave’s apartment, Jade opens the cruxtruder by dropping the displaced toilet on it, splashing water everywhere, much to Dave’s aggravation since all that juice was going to come back to haunt me. He’s relieved to see the countdown gives him four hours, but Jade doesn’t know till what, and he realises she’s sleep-messaging him again. He orders her not to watch him pee, and dont put anything weird in the seizure kernel.

TG: the last thing i need is for your weird brain webcam to be snapping shots of my dong TG: your grandpa was a sick fuck why would he build a voyeurbot for a little girl CALL CPA PLEASE: 8

Well, he is kinda right. Anyway, Dave spends a couple of pages elaborately planning misuse of the apple juice bottle and tricking John into drinking from the alchemised bottle, but he dismisses it as too much trouble and goes in the shower, kicking out the puppet. Good thing it was only his bladder that was the problem, if you get my drift. Some fans have speculated that this puppet also had a camera in it, but I can’t see evidence of that; I guess if you squint the eyes might look like a camera lens? I feel if that was the case it would have been shown. Hussie didn’t shy away from the weird shit with Dave’s living situation earlier.

Jade is upset to find the bisected bird from earlier, and decides to help the bird by putting it in the Kernelsprite, angering Dave again. He figures she’ll be more helpful when she’s awake, so he instructs her to slap the air to her side; the dreambot mimics her movements and whacks the real Jade in the face, waking her up.

BRIGHT: I burst out laughing the first time I saw that panel. It’s pretty clever of Dave. (Though obviously not kind, but of a variety that’s in keeping with the story.)

CHEL: Cut to the carapace camp, where they’re burning empty crates for a campfire. AR decides to use the Squiddles to Win over that fine carapace in grey, which seems to distress WV and Serenity. PM takes a Squiddle, but rather than being won over is vaguely reminded of something.

TIER: We then jump back into the past, where we find a totalled car and what looks like AR?

CHEL: Yep, though here he’s going by Authority Regulator instead of Aimless Renegade.

TIER: Whatever the case, this dude is not happy with this traffic violation. Another thing he's not happy with? Unauthorized parcels. Which brings us to the Parcel Mistress, who's been looking for this particular package for a while apparently. Now how to get it?

With that we jump back to John! Who's doing decent enough in his clobbering of game enemies. Just when things ain't looking too hot though, a mysterious stranger shoots and kills them with extreme prejudice. He looks familiar ain't he?

And even if he's not, that gigantic book under his arm can only be the work of the ol’ Colonel Sassacre, which John helpfully points out.

CHEL: Meanwhile in some other time period, PM suddenly remembers she must deliver a message to John. Back in the present, Parcel Mistress, for it is she, finds a tablet carved (badly) by John, depicting the SBurb envelope. The prompt suggests PM ready her sword, but she has none, and claims she would never resort to violence. Instead, she tries asking politely. Despite their lands’ enmity, AR finds her attractive and doffs his hat so furiously you are in danger of starting a HAT FIRE. His civility does not extend to handing over contraband, though. The tablet is sufficient evidence for him to give her the envelope, but to get the green parcel she must ask his bosses. PM puts the envelope in a pyxis, trusting the Breeze to move it, and follows AR.

John plans to follow the man, who he does not yet recognise as Jade’s Grandpa, to get his book back, but first he must help put out the fire in the salamander village. He flings the BARBASOL BOMB he made earlier into the volcano.

The cooling lather should work its magic in no time…

OH GOD HOW CAN SHAVING CREAM BE SO FLAMMABLE

Yeah, that doesn’t work so well. Fortunately, just as all seems lost, A big gust of wind conveniently comes along and blows out all the fire. The salamanders declare John a hero, though he’s just confused.

FAILURE ARTIST: A prompt (PM) asks John if he still has the tablet and if he wants to carve something on it. So, in another time loop, he does that.

Back at LOLAR, a very elegant and mysterious prompt ask Rose to find Jaspersprite. Rose cannot find him, but she does find footprints leading to the mausoleum. The mausoleum isn’t there anymore, but the underground passage is still there. Rose takes it down to a pier where someone has recently taken a boat and left a martini. The mysterious prompt says “A mother will do whatever is best for her children.” Nobody ever said “a brother will do whatever is best for his siblings”.

In the future, WV becomes the Mayor of Exile Town. The peace is disturbed when a “huge eggy looking thing” appears in the sky.

Cut to Jade giving the punch card of an “eggy loking thign (sic)”. Guess someone on the forum had bad spelling?

CHEL: It’s a callback to Rose describing the other unfinished GameFAQs entries, which were typed in haste. One described their entry item that way.

FAILURE ARTIST: Dave creates a huge red bird with a huge red egg. When he tries to use the egg, the crow sprite takes it and puts it in a nest made of smuppets, swords, and Lil Cal.

Dave doesn’t have enough grist to do anything. He fusses around building what he can. That done, he goes inside and installs gristTorrent to steal grist from John. Who exactly made that software?

Meanwhile, in LOLAR, Rose has set up shop on the pier. The mysterious prompter tells her to consult with the Heir and in the pesterlog we see she’s chatting with John. They catch up on the trolls and various things. Unfortunately, Rose is harassed by a gallowsCalibrator who tells her in 133t speak that her mother hates her and left her forever. Amazing that GC eventually becomes a beloved character since they are such a little shit right now. GC has synesthesia and jokes about their species communicating through “CLOUDS OF FR4GR4NT G4S3S”. They want to be helpful, but they deny wanting to be friends, though later they say they are becoming something called “H4T3FR13NDS”.

CHEL: Rose asks if I'm being courted or trolled here, which with further reveals about the trolls will become somewhat ironic. Other trolls are jumping around in time but GC is ST4Y1NG L1N34R [...] C4US3 W31RD T1M3 STUFF G1V3S ME A H34D4CHE, though will jump forward in the timeline so they don’t have to wait too long between conversations.

BRIGHT: GC isn’t the only one...

FAILURE ARTIST: GC explains the voices in the players’ heads are from the Exiles on Earth. The ultimate goal is to create a new civilization with them. With that important information, GC bids adieu for now.

TT: So the exiles are on Earth? Does that mean our goal is to get back there too? To resurrect it somehow? GC: NO NO NO GC: S33 1RON1C4LLY TH3Y G3T TO DO TH4T GC: 4FT3R TH3YR3 DON3 H3LP1NG YOU TH4T 1S GC: YOUR JOB 1S OF GR34T3R CONS3QU3NC3 TO S4Y TH3 L34ST GC: BUT P4RT OF TH31R JOB 1S TO R3BU1LD L1F3 4ND C1V1L1Z4T1ON TH3R3 GC: 4ND 1F TH3YR3 SUCC3SSFUL 1N THOUS4NDS OR M1LL1ONS OF Y34RS TH3 T3CHNOLOGY 1S UN34RTH3D 4ND TH3 PL4N3T 1S R1P3 FOR S33D1NG 4LL OV3R 4G41N TT: You never answered the question. Where were they exiled from? GC: FROM TH3 TWO K1NGDOMS 1N TH3 1NC1P1SPH3R3 GC: 3XP4TR14T3D DUR1NG TH3 R3CKON1NG

CHEL: We now know who and what the Exiles are, so let’s lop off a point for that:

WHAT IS HAPPENING??: 8

FAILURE ARTIST: Back in the past, when John went by ghostyTrickster, he tries to have a conversation with Jade but it’s interrupted by CG warning her that her robot will explode. After CG leaves, Jade and John talk about the trolls. Seems blocking does no good. John drops the r-slur.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 17

We cut to CG being gray and angry in some mysterious grey room.

Then, back to Jade. Her package from her pen-pal appears again.

Cut to ghostyTrickster John. GC trolls him, outs herself as female and blind, and threatens to cut his throat “4ND L1ST3N TO YOU BL33D WH1L3 1 SM3LL YOU D13”. John is naturally unnerved by this, but he also takes inspiration from her taunt that he’s bad at ectobiology.

CHEL: He takes for his new username a term that the trolls introduced him to, and is surprised when they immediately find him? Maybe we DID need a Too Dumb To Live count.

FAILURE ARTIST: We cut to a troll like CG, but with red glasses and a Libra sign on her shirt. This is our first look at gallowsCallibrator.

CHEL: Okay, does the death threat qualify for SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER? It’s a bit extreme considering at this point in his timeline John has done nothing to offend her. Then again, maybe not; the narrative doesn’t present this as being the right and proper thing to do.

Back in the present, PM arrives in enemy territory, with the parking citation as a ready excuse for her presence. Imps and agents she passes now have features from Jaspersprite; cat faces, princess hats, and we see a DD-like figure wearing a cat-ear headband. PM follows a red carpet, only to be confronted at the end by this eldritch-looking majesty:

PM is naturally trembling, but is merely instructed to speak to the Archagent, who we’ve met before; Jack Noir. We see a ring with four pearl-like orbs on the monarch’s hand; this will become important later.

Rose’s Exile voice bids her farewell, telling her to Find your sprite. Realise your purpose. No longer guided, Rose decides to start making her own decisions, beginning with a sip of martini.

In the desert, A WINDSWEPT QUESTANT suddenly appears, this being a tall white carapace with a feminine figure and narrow eyes, from the eggy lokin thign, with the unsound effect EGG! WV and AR appear disconcerted, while PM is busy telling John to put the carved tablet in the pyxis.

Back in Jack Noir’s office, PM attempts to grab the green box and leave, but Jack appears suddenly behind her, making her jump, and tells her she’d better have the ticket payment or you are wasting valuable time he could otherwise spend shirking his clerical duties. PM nervously explains she’s actually here for the package, and Jack points out she doesn’t have the right courier forms.

In spite of how he's supposed to be dressed now but isn't, he ain't nobody's fool.

However, instead, she could always do an errand for him. Specifically, following his HIT LIST, which is two pictures of white crowns recognisable as the tops of the king and queen chess pieces. He also gives her the enormous black sword we saw her future self use. PM, terrified, departs, and Jack wonders if she’s actually stupid enough to try it.

You make a policy of handing out a REGISWORD and a HITLIST to just about everyone who enters your office.

Curious, he opens the package, and stares into it in surprise.

At Dave’s apartment, Jade has put the Punch Designix in the hallway, making it rather hard to navigate, but regardless Dave’s busy alchemising. He plays with a few add-ons which temporarily render the machines unusable, but eventually manages to use a jumper shunty thing to consolidate all the machines into one. Jade draws some components, gets the captcha codes of their ghost images, and sends the codes to Dave, who plugs them into the machine. Useful, but could probably be compressed into fewer pages, especially when he follows it up by playing with the new machinery. This is adding to my conviction that the machines should have been simplified severely in the first place.

GET ON WITH IT!: 15

John finds the wrecked car with no dad, package, or game, and gets trolled by GC again. She offers to help him, claiming she wants to H3LP YOU 4DV4NC3 MOR3 QU1CKLY because she’s bored watching his long adventure and wants to help him skip ahead. John points out she could just skip forward on the timeline as she has before, and she admits that she just wants to see if she can change the timeline, as her friends don’t believe they can. She offers him a map, which he accepts.

John complains, naturally, and she relents and offers to guide him directly to the pipe which will help him skip to the next Gate. Honestly, he has reason to complain; her smellovision allows her to read text on a screen, yet not to draw?

Rose, back in LOLAR, battles monsters, doing surprisingly well considering she only has knitting needles for a weapon, culminating in an epic sequence in which she stabs both needles into an ogre’s eyes, flips onto its back, and uses her knitting as reins to ride it down the waterfall. Dave informs her he’s out of grist, but she finds the idea of killing the ogre for supplies when it’s unconscious to be distasteful. He’s interrupted by grimAuxiliatrix, The Troll Who Talks Like This, asking about Rose. The conversation is awkward as GA seems unable to read Dave’s sarcasm.

GA: She Perhaps Even Regards You With Uh GA: Endearment TG: you have no idea dude she is so in my grill TG: like a stray hotdog that rolled down there TG: and now its too much trouble to fish out with the tongs TG: so you just watch it like crack and turn black GA: Um Is This GA: A Common Sort Of Practice In Human Courtship GA: Watching Oblong Meat Products Tumble Into Places They Dont Belong

adiosToreador, meanwhile, does the same to Rose about Dave, with a similar lack of comprehension of Rose’s loquaciousness. GA contacts Rose again, and a confusing conversation about temporal mechanics ensues. Afterwards, we see GA, who proves to be a short-haired troll girl with pronged horns, a Virgo shirt symbol (my troll!), and cute little vampire teeth.

FAILURE ARTIST: It’s been too long for me to remember the fandom reaction, but I feel like the reveal that GA is a girl was framed like a surprise. Surprise! This troll is a lesbian! But I might be mistaken. Still, this isn’t like Dave’s (mock?) offended reaction to AT. Hussie, like many straight men, is more comfortable with lesbians than gay men.

We’ll see more of Rose’s and GA’s relationship as the comic goes on. Some non-Homestucks here might already be spoiled due to the numerous fanart of the two.

CHEL: I wasn’t surprised by her being a girl; maybe I’m stereotyping, but the prissy nature of her dialogue and quirk sounded feminine to me from the start, not to mention the “trix” ending of her username is a feminine one - if she was male, it would be “auxiliator”. Not sure how many people paid attention to that though. I was surprised by the later information that (SPOILER) she actually was interested in Rose, because facetious declarations of romantic intention are kind of a thing for the human kids at this point and her flustered reaction could be taken either way here.

Dave, meanwhile, is trolled by AT, with the most cringe-inducing text-rap I’ve ever seen (and text-rapping is pretty cringy to begin with). I gotta praise Hussie, it takes skill to make something this awful.

AT: oK, lET ME, AT: oRGANIZE MY NOTES HERE, AT: oKAYYY, AT: (tURN ON SOME STRICT BEATS MAYBE, iT WILL HELP TO LISTEN TO THEM WHILE i DESTROY YOU,) AT: wHEN THE POLICE MAN BUSTS ME, aND POPS THE TRUNK, AT: hE'S ALL SUPRISED TO FIND I'M TOTING SICK BILLY, AT: wHOSE, AT: gOAT IS THAT, hE ASKS, wHILE HE STOPS TO THUNK AT: aBOUT IT, aND i'S JUST SAY IT'S DAVE'S, yOU SILLY AT: gOOSE,

Since we’ll later find out trolls don’t have the concept of police in the same way humans do, and nor do they call animals by the same names we do, I think this is worth some WSP points. Did he watch Dave’s life closely enough to pick up those concepts?

BRIGHT: I get the distinct impression none of the trolls watched anything like enough of the kids’ lives to pick up the concept of the police, particularly since as we’ll see later they missed a few things that are rather more obvious -- such as, say, parents.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 11

CHEL: He also namedrops Prospit and Derse, which I’m not really spoiling anything by saying are the names of the two warring chess kingdoms, though I don’t think those names have been applied to them yet. I don’t know why, it’s not like keeping them secret makes a big difference - did Hussie only just think of them? The quality of his rhymes aside, AT appears very proud of himself; he’s a troll with enormous bull-like horns, a mohawk, and a Taurus symbol. I thought he was really creepy-looking the first time I saw him, but he rather grew on me.

Back on LOWAS, John is squirted out of a pipe with a gush of oil. Ew. The Con Air bunny goes flying and lands in an oil river, and he catches it with the Ghost Gauntlets. An adult and child pair of salamanders happen to be standing nearby, prompting a movie re-enactment, much to the salamanders’ confusion.

Watch on YouTube

CG is unimpressed, though he agrees with John that Con Air sounds entertaining. CG claims to have been watching the whole of John’s life and Con Air is supposed to be one of John’s favourite movies; how come CG hasn’t seen any of it before, especially since he says he has seen a movie John hates?

CG: OK I DON'T SEE HOW WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE BECOMING FRIENDS IF YOU RECOIL FROM MY OLIVE BRANCH LIKE I'M WIGGLING A GNARLED TREE MONSTER'S DICK IN YOUR DIRECTION.

Lovely. Though I gotta say the dialogue and ridiculous extended metaphors are one of the best parts of Homestuck. Wish I could pull those off. However, one point here; if they’re aliens, it seems odd that they would use human idioms such as “olive branch” with the same meaning we do. There is a possible explanation later on, but since they only ever use American/Western phrases like this and it’s clear from other things they say that they didn’t pick up anything much about human culture from watching the kids, I’m upping the count anyway.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 12

BRIGHT: We also discover that troll movies are titled very differently to human movies, such as the classic

CG: WHEREIN NUMEROUS VIGILANTES CONFRONT PERIL; ONE OF THEM BETRAYS THE OTHERS;(BUT IT TURNS OUT TO BE PART OF THE PLAN ALL ALONG); CG: SEVERAL ATTRACTIVE FEMALE LEADS PROVOKE ROMANTIC TENSION; FOUR MAJOR CHARACTERS WEAR UNUSUAL HATS; ONE HOLDS PLOT-CRITICAL SECRET; CG: 47 ON-SCREEN EXPLOSIONS, ONE RESULTING IN DEMISE OF KEY-ADVERSARY;6 TO 20 LINES THAT COULD BE CONSTRUED AS HUMOROUS; EB: wait... EB: this is the title? CG: IT GOES ON.

Apparently after thousands of years of film history, you start running out of movie titles.

Also, note that despite their being aliens, quite possibly with different gender roles, the romantic tension is explicitly provided by attractive female leads.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 13

CG thinks that Earth civilisation’s lack of maturity might explain why the players are (apparently) doing so badly. John retorts that GC is helping him, so they can’t be doing THAT badly. Apparently this wasn’t in the plan; CG goes to talk to GC about it, and she punches him. Seems she’s talking to a future John at the moment, and he asked her to. CG gives John a message to pass on to GC in reply.

CG: TELL HER TO POLISH MY HEAVING BONE BULGE AND SET A TABLE FOR FUCKING TWO ON IT. CG: IT’S FOR OUR CANDLELIT HATE DATE.

John comments that it’s like they’re trolling each other through him now, and asks if CG has talked to Jade. CG is surprised that he’d want to talk to her. John offers to paste the chatlog; CG refuses, and John heads off to talk to GC.

CHEL: Precisely what a bone bulge is is never explained. Context makes it clear it’s an unsavoury body part, and it sounds like a term for one’s dick, even though the boner does not in fact contain bones in humans. The assumption early in the fandom was that the trolls had primarily human anatomy, which seems odd to me considering Kanaya’s complete obliviousness to her Oblong Meat Products comment - most teenagers familiar with human penises would be on that instantly. Anyway, there soon came a phase of experimentation, and by now we seem to have settled on the “functional-hermaphrodites with tentacle dicks” theory. Which is weird, because a tentacle doesn’t sound like something which would be referred to with the word “bone”, does it?

GC’s laughing mouth is reflected in John’s glasses as they speak in what I desperately hope is a shoutout to the Corinthian. She calls John STUP1DLY 4DOR4BLE (minor typo on the comic’s part as the E in her quirk should be a 3) and laughs at CG’s frustration. John relays an approximation of CG’s message:

EB: he wants you to touch his bone lump or something. GC: WH4T!!! EB: and that he's pretty much basically in love with you.

GC asks him to copy-paste the convo for proof but John refuses, saying it was a private conversation, and informs GC that she’s going to punch CG soon. In other news, referring to these characters with only their handle initials when I know their actual names is hard.

On GC’s instructions, John turns around, to discover this hard-to-miss landmark:

This, according to GC, is the D3N1Z3NS P4L4C3, in which the Denizen sleeps on a grist hoard so big their alchemising could never make a dent in it.

GC: USU4LLY HOW 1TS SUPPOS3D TO GO 1S GC: OV3R TH3 COURS3 OF YOUR QU3ST GC: YOU W1LL W4K3 TH3 D3N1Z3N GC: 4ND TH3N F1N4LLY YOU GO THROUGH TH3 S3V3NTH G4T3 GC: WH1CH 1S TH3 ONLY W4Y 1NTO TH3 P4L4C3 GC: TH3N YOU GO DOWN 4ND F1GHT TH3 D3N1Z3N GC: 4ND K1LL 1T GC: R3L3AS1NG TH3 HO4RD EB: so what's my advantage? GC: YOU WONT BOTH3R W4K1NG 1T GC: W3 W1LL SK1P R1GHT TO TH3 S3V3NTH G4T3 GC: F1ND 1TS L41R GC: 4ND K1LL 1T 1N 1TS SL33P

The grist hoard, GC claims, is for the ULT1M4T3 4LCH3MY, but she won’t explain what this is yet, and she leads John to a R3TURN NOD3 which takes him back to his home to prepare.

In the desert, AR and WV hammer some metal to make a gift for the Windswept Questant, which proves to be a crown. PM is shocked to see this, and emerges from the bunker, sword in hand.

Meanwhile, in a long-discarded memory… A PARCEL MISTRESS seeks audience with royalty.

It seems Windswept Questant is in fact, of course, the White Queen.

PM explains recent events and seeks her queen’s advice, showing her the hit list requesting the white monarchs’ crowns. WQ is wearing a ring similar to that of the monarch we met earlier, the Black Queen. Four orbs are attached to it, two light and two dark. On removing it, WQ loses all her elaborate prototyping accoutrements and becomes the normal-looking carapace we saw in her Windswept Questant identity. WQ seems to have a plan; instead of requiring PM to kill her to finish her fetch quest, she simply hands over her crown and ring, and instructs PM to find the White King on the battlefield. Flashing forward to the desert, WQ places her new crown on PM’s head, much to the astonishment of their companions.

On LOLAR, beneath waterfalls pouring from hovering pink turtle shells, Rose frustratedly consults with Jaspersprite, who will apparently only meow. However, when asked a direct question, Jaspersprite is able to respond. He is attempting to fish with his tentacles, but there are no fish, because her Denizen ate everything in the ocean and got so full that it took a long nap. Being as cryptic as Nannasprite, he won’t, however, explain what the message he gave to young Rose meant, saying she’ll understand when she wakes up.

JASPERSPRITE: Rose im just a cat and i dont know much but i know that youre important and also you are what some people around here call the Seer of Light. JASPERSPRITE: And you dont know what that means but you will see its all tied together! JASPERSPRITE: All the life in the ocean and all the shiny rain and the songs in your head and the letters they make. JASPERSPRITE: A beam of light i think is like a drop of rain or a long piece of yarn that dances around when you play with it and make it look enticing! JASPERSPRITE: And the way that it shakes is the same as what makes notes in a song! JASPERSPRITE: And a song i think can be written down as letters. JASPERSPRITE: So if you play the right song and it makes all the right letters then those letters could be all the letters that make life possible. JASPERSPRITE: So all you have to do is wake up and learn to play the rain!

FAILURE ARTIST: Hussie is very good at writing the dialogue of a kitten turned into a game NPC, you’ve got to hand it to him.

CHEL: It’s also worth noting that his colours have stopped flashing pink and purple, and he’s settled on pink.

Rose asks Jade for further information, and learns that all four of the kids have a dream self which must awaken; Rose deduces Jade’s has been awake as long as they’ve known each other. Jade is in fact asleep now, and can only message at the moment because of her robot. Rose’s dream self is dreaming troubled dreams, causing the real Rose to suffer nightmares all her life, and to stop this she must discover how to wake her dream self.

GG: maybe the stuff you wrote on your walls can give you a clue? TT: What stuff? GG: the.... GG: er GG: didnt dave tell you?

Utterly heartwarming moment; we see in John’s dream tower, and Jade has drawn over the LAME KID messages and creepy clown faces on John’s walls with a big bright yellow heart and the message wake up john!!! you can do it!!!

Rose wants to know what’s going on, but Dave is unavailable. The meteor is about to land and he’s scrambling his way up the tower to his kernelsprite’s nest to retrieve the entry egg.

Back at John’s house, he finds the useless rocket-pack-combined-with-junk he experimentally alchemised earlier; GC tells him that the trolls’ resident hacker, who we haven’t met yet, can use its code to create a usable jetpack. Said hacker doesn’t want to talk to them but WONT B3 4BL3 TO R3S1ST TH3 CH4LL3NG3.

John sends the mishmash code…

GC: OK B3 B4CK IN L3SS TH4N ON3 S3COND GC: PCHOOOOO EB: hello? GC: WH4T EB: it thought you said you'd be back in less than a second? GC: 1 W4S GC: 1 G4V3 YOU TH3 COD3 GC: 1TS PCHOOOOO

Hee. The misunderstanding leads into a brief argument, GC claiming that 3V3N YOU 4ND YOUR UND3RD3V3LOP3D BON3 NOOK W1LL B3 4BL3 TO F1GUR3 OUT WH4T TO DO. Once again, we don’t know what a bone nook is. Context could imply either an obscene body part or a brain-related one. Common fanon holds that it’s the vagina, others have objected and said it surely must mean anus; neither of those sound like a “bone” anything to me, and in fact bone would be horribly counterproductive for organs which have to perform peristalsis. Someone did point out to me that it could mean a place to put the metaphorical bone, but that wasn’t what I immediately thought.

FAILURE ARTIST: I don’t think the phrase “bone nook” ever comes up again, though the word “nook” by itself does and it can be replaced with the word “ass” in those cases. Basically, trolls aren’t a fictional species crafted with any care. Hussie wanted some annoying alien characters with a visual callback to “Little Monsters” and it somehow got out of control.

CHEL: Actually, I believe it does come up in Hiveswap Act 1! But we’ll get to that.

John answers a message from Dave, who now claims to be in the Medium, saying it took him four hours. He asks for advice, saying his sprite wants him to prototype it again, and Rose is randomly asleep.

TG: ok fine but TG: it seems to be suggesting something here TG: and TG: i guess im kinda weirded out by its suggestion EB: i don't know, just do what it says! EB: it knows stuff about the game, so it probably knows better than i do...

Not a good sign. John decides to Take dear, sweet Casey (the baby salamander) into protective custody by captchaloguing her, and blasts off for the gate.

Cut to an animated sequence in The Land of Heat and Clockwork, a nightmarish lava-scape covered in machinery (convection schmonvection), where Dave is being extremely badass and surprisingly successful for someone with only half a sword. In fact, multiple Daves appear to be present. We also see, unfortunately, exactly what he prototyped:

Watch on YouTube

Calsprite is even less helpful than the other two, providing a constant soundtrack of creepy laughter while Dave begs him to shut up. According to Dave’s ensuing convo with Rose, this has been going on for four months. That’s… pretty terrifying even before we hear everything that went wrong. John was unsurprisingly instantly slain by his Denizen, and thus couldn’t save Jade from her meteor. Dave, however, has now mastered the art of time travel via the magical turntables he’s created, and intends to go back and prevent all that from happening, now that they’ve spent four months gathering information their past selves can use. Rose is afraid of ceasing to exist; Dave assures her that their dream selves exist outside the standard passage of time, and this will help her dream self wake sooner.

FAILURE ARTIST: The trolls also stopped “trolling” Dave and Rose after John died. This isn’t the end of the trolls, of course.

Dave uses his turntables to go to the past. We cut to a conversation we just saw, where Dave has just entered the Medium and John is about to go pchooooo, except this time from Dave’s roof.

GET ON WITH IT!: 16

Except at the end, Dave tells John not to go. See, Dave from the future just arrived on Dave from the present’s roof. John refuses to believe that this is happening, thinking it’s just a prank. Not even putting future!Dave on the line convinces John. So, future!Dave unloads everything he has in a stack and flips back into the Crowsprite to become a new characters: Davesprite.

CHEL: Note that, instead of Dave’s theme colour of red, Davesprite is orange. I did wonder if this was potentially supposed to show that Bro (whose theme colour is orange) is overwriting/overshadowing Dave’s real self, but since the sprites of the others aren’t the theme colours of their respective kids (Nannasprite is teal to John’s dark blue and Jaspersprite pink to Rose’s purple) I don’t think this is really a reliable sign. Pin in the colours, though, that’ll come up later.

FAILURE ARTIST: Meanwhile, John blasts off with the words “THIS IS STUPID”.

Present!Rose tries to pester Dave, and we get another repeated conversation.

GET ON WITH IT!: 17

Present!Rose decides to nap, and at that moment, Future Dream Rose ceases to exist and becomes absorbed by Present!Rose. I think.

WHAT IS HAPPENING??: 9

Davesprite pesters GC to tell her not to talk to John anymore. GC first reacts by saying “YOU SM3LL L1K3 OR4NG3 CR34MS1CL3S” but then finds out she killed John. She had assumed since she could talk to John in the future, he hadn’t died, but she guessed there was a chance he could die. She’s a little put-out and wants to apologize, but she’s not as sad as you’d expect someone who accidentally killed someone to be. Davesprite asks who is in charge of timeline management.

GC: SH3 DO3SNT W4NT TO T4LK TO 4NY OF YOU GC: 4ND H4S M1SG1V1NGS 4BOUT TH1S WHOL3 TH1NG GC: NOT 4LL OF US 4R3 TH4T 3NTHUS1AST1C 4BOUT TROLL1NG YOU GUYS GC: 4ND TH3 ON3S WHO 4R3 SORT OF SUCK 4T 1T >:|

We do get to meet her, but not until the next act when we meet all the trolls.

Davesprite gives GC permission to talk to John if she cuts out her “coy bullshit antics”. GC mocks his threatening tone and points out she’s higher on the echeladder, from the future, and blind. Davesprite says his self-prototyping gave him great powers and GC says that was a bad idea. They then engage in some banter over GC posting screencaps of Wheeler from Captain Planet (which she calls a “soap opera”). Davesprite and GC end the conversation with mutual respect. Which is honestly really weird after all future!Dave had to go through because of GC.

CHEL: Does this count for SLAMMER points? I think it does. Here’s the first of our new count, then!

SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER: 1

This will go up whenever a character does something awful and neither the narrative nor the other characters seem to care.

This also brings us into another point. We’ve seen only hints of it, but alternate timelines are a big theme of this comic. Davesprite in particular is a major focus of said theme, specifically the nature of his personhood separately from the focal or “alpha” Dave. However, as we see here, not even the Dave from the dead John’s timeline particularly seems to mind that John just died in an alternate timeline. At the moment, they appear to feel that because there is an alive John, everything is okay. Let’s see how that progresses.

FAILURE ARTIST: Davesprite and present!Dave (who I guess we can just call Dave at this point) talk. Davespite says as a sprite he has lots of knowledge but is obligated to put it in riddles. However, he says he doesn’t feel like it so he’ll answer Dave straight.

DAVE: alright DAVE: here goes DAVE: why are we so fucking awesome DAVESPRITE: thats the best fucking question anybody ever asked

After that best fucking question, Dave asks if John will be alright. Davesprite says that’s up to John, and if John doesn’t listen they’ll just bail him out again. Davesprite says the gear he piled up will help Dave get to the next gate. The two versions of Dave decide to collaborate on a SBaHJ comic and fist “bunp”.

Meanwhile, “hundreds of pages ago”, John gets his bunny from Dave. We see Dave’s note and it’s cool how each of the kids have their own style of handwriting. There’s a very prophetic sentence in this sweet note:

one day your gooberish ways are gonna land you in a jam and i know im going to have to get you off the hook but its cool i got your back bro.

We cut to the present, where John is blasting off. The human emotion of friendship causes him to reconsider his action. John pesters Dave and tells him he’s just flying around and not going to the gate. Crisis averted.

This might seem like a cul de sac, but it created a new character (Davesprite) and introduced many concepts, so it really isn’t.

CHEL: Primarily, it introduced the theme of jumping around in time in the literal sense as well as just hopping between apparently-disconnected scenes. The latter’s not a generally well-advised style of writing, but considering the time travel motif of the comic, I think it actually works fine here. Also, as a webcomic, if one spends too long on one group of characters then by the time you get back to the other ones the readers will probably not remember what happened, so shorter scenes for each group are probably more acceptable than in a novel or movie.

CG trolls John again, and after a discussion of their becoming reverse anti-mutual friends, John complains that CG hasn’t really answered his questions.

CG: SO GO AHEAD, ASK ME ANYTHING. EB: ok... EB: what's the point of the game. CG: ASK SOMETHING ELSE. CG: ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT.

John asks where they are now in their Medium, and CG explains they’re HIDING IN THE VEIL, a meteor belt between the two planets. To clarify the layout for our readers, Skaia the big ball of sky is in the centre, with Prospit the golden planet orbiting it closely enough for its moon to enter Skaia during the “eclipse” where Jade gets her visions. Then there are the players’ Lands, their little adventure planets where the consorts live, the consorts being the little NPC creatures (in John’s case, the salamanders). Every player has a Land of Something and Something. Beyond the Lands is the Veil, and beyond that is the Furthest Ring, the orbit of Derse, the dark planet.

CG: OK, THERE COMES A TIME WHEN BLACK INEVITABLY BEATS WHITE CG: ON THE BATTLEFIELD IN THE CENTER OF SKAIA CG: THE WHITE KING IS CAPTURED OR KILLED OR SOMETHING CG: THAT'S WHEN THE RECKONING STARTS. EB: ok... CG: THE RULERS OF DERSE CG: THE BLACK KING AND QUEEN CG: GET THE POWER TO SEND THE VEIL TOWARD SKAIA CG: TO DESTROY IT CG: THAT KIND OF STARTS YOUR BIG "COUNTDOWN" CG: WHEN SHIT GETS SERIOUS. EB: so then it's up to us to save it? CG: YEAH, YOU HAVE THAT LONG TO KILL THE BLACK QUEEN AND KING CG: AND SKAIA ITSELF SORT OF BUYS YOU SOME TIME CG: BY ACTIVATING ITS DEFENSE PORTALS CG: TO CATCH SOME OF THE METEORS

Ordinarily, the players would have plenty of time before this happens, but something done by the human players has caused things to go wrong, and now they’ve not only ruined their own chance of winning, but somehow affected the trolls’ game too. CG refuses to explain how, because he’s already told him again.

John asks if they’re hiding in a crater or something, but no, CG explains there are buildings in the Veil. It’s considered neutral ground, and both sides have laboratories there where they genetically engineer new soldiers and agents. John asks CG to tell GC “nice try”, but he refuses.

Now comes the mid-point animation of the act, “[S] Jack: Ascend”. I thought it was an ending animation, but no, there’s still more. If you don’t want to or can’t watch video I’ll explain the content, but I do recommend it.

Watch on YouTube

Pan over the Skaian system, from LOWAS to the Veil to the purple towers of Derse. Four towers are close together, topped by orbs. On three of them, we see the silhouettes of the sprites, while the fourth is dark. Jack Noir sits at his desk, doing paperwork, a pink princess dress on a stand next to it. He doodles on a parking ticket, declaring the Black Queen to be a HUGE BITCH. Closeup on BQ’s hips as she approaches, because we totally needed gratuitous sex appeal. She’s remarkably curvy for a probably-non-mammal. Still, we’ll forgive the standard scifi tropes. Jack watches on the Fenestrated Wall, until BQ appears and hacks it in half. She waves the dress and a pink pointed hat at him; apparently, now that the princess doll has been prototyped, the carapaces must represent it in their clothing as well as the jester. Jack is understandably displeased, and after a quick-fire montage of various outfits representing the sprites’ themes, he tears the final colourful tunic up.

Meanwhile, Rose’s dreamself has awoken, and discovers what she wrote on her walls; the word MEOW and other arrangements of the letters M, E, O, and W, over and over again, over every inch of the walls except the part covered by her bed. She finally remembers what Jaspers said to her, which was, of course, MEOW. This seems like nonsense, but as she looks, the letters switch to G, C, A, and T, the letters used to denote DNA nucleotides. It’s a genetic code.

The guardians, meanwhile, are battling enormous monsters; Mom and Dad respectively punch out a three-eyed spider-like giant and a rock cyclops, Dad pausing afterwards to carve a hat on a pyxis tablet, and Bro swordfights against a lava-dwelling tentacle beast.

Back to Jack, matters have got worse; not only are the carapaces required to dress like the sprites, but Davesprite still has the sword sticking through his torso, so now so must Jack. Considering what else we’ve seen carapaces survive, he’d probably be fine, but he’s still understandably hesitant. BQ offers him a sword, but he slices off her ring-bearing finger, which… causes her to explode? Jack puts on the ring, which causes Derse to glow white and him to sprout the features of the sprites; a sword grows from him without him having to fall on it, and wings and tentacles emerge. End scene.

So, approximately, human children have possibly caused the destruction of an alien civilisation’s last hope by putting a cat in a princess dress. Whatever else you think of Homestuck, you can’t say it’s not inventive.

BRIGHT: It is that, among other things.

COUNTS ALL THE LUCK: 0 ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 15 CALL CPA PLEASE: 8 CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 17 GET ON WITH IT!: 17 GORE GALORE: 9 HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 15 HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 6 IN HATE WITH MY CREATION: 0 RELATIONSHIP GOALS?: 1 SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER: 1 SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS: 0 WHAT IS HAPPENING??: 9 WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 13 TOTAL: 111

[this-year-ive-read]

Books I’ve Read in 2019 (A List in Progress)

The Devil and Sherlock Holmes - David Grann (***)

“The course of human events is not permanently altered by the great deeds of history, nor by the great men but by the small daily doings of the little men.”

Killers of the Flower Moon - The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI - David Grann (**)

“History is a merciless judge. It lays bare our tragic blunders and foolish missteps and exposes our most intimate secrets, wielding the power of hindsight like an arrogant detective who seems to know the end of the mystery from the outset.”

The Things They Carried - Tim O’Brien (****)

“They carried the sky. The whole atmosphere, they carried it, the humidity, the monsoons, the stink of fungus and decay, all of it, they carried gravity.”

“I survived, but it's not a happy ending.”

“But this too is true: stories can save us.”

Every Word You Cannot Say - Lain S Thomas (***)

“There are days when everyone needs you to be strong, even if you're dying inside, and you can only cry when no one's looking because you're petrified of letting them down.”

“I don’t know if I’m ever, really, ‘Here’”

Everything I Never Told You - Celeste NG (***)

“Before that she hadn’t realized how fragile happiness was, how if you were careless, you could knock it over and shatter it.”

“You never got what you wanted; you just learned to get by without it.”

Night - Elie Wiesel (****)

“To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.

“Those who kept silent yesterday will remain silent tomorrow”

The Alice Network - Kate Quinn (**)

“Poetry is like passion--it should not be merely pretty; it should overwhelm and bruise.”

“What did it matter if something scared you, when it simply had to be done”

Love her wild - Atticus (***)

“We are made of all those who have built and broken us”

“A sky

full

of stars

and he

was staring

at her.”

When we Left Cuba - Chanel Cleeton (****)

“For the dreams that slip through our fingers.

May we hold them in our arms one day.”

“You can love someone and still not lose your reason.”

“Not all of us have the luxury of setting the world on fire, simply because we’re angry.”

Crush - Richard Siken (***)

“A man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river

           but then he’s still leftwith the river. A man takes his sadness and throws it away

           but then he’s still left with his hands.”

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you.”

“They want you to love the whole damn world but you won’t, you want it all narrowed down to one fleshy man in a bath who knows what to do with his body, with his hands.”

War of the Foxes - Richard Siken (**)

“Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.”

“I want to give you more but not everything. You don’t need everything.”

Murder on the Orient Express - Agatha Christie (**)

“The impossible could not have happened, therefore the impossible must be possible in spite of appearances.”

Fool Me Once - Harlan Coben (***)

“All love stories,” Maya’s father had told her many years ago, “end in tragedy.”

“There are moments in life when everything changes.”

Pirate Hunters - Robert Kurson (*****)

“They made a sound I’d never heard before but somehow had known my whole life, a waterfall of muted chimes, dense and deep and old”

“When John asked his grandfather about being heroic, Arison told him that he had not done anything special, just what he thought was right”

“The world came alive when a person got a chance to be good”

“Do it now. Tomorrow is promised to no one”

“And promised himself that no matter what, he wouldn’t put off until tomorrow what his heart told him to go for today.”

“He just looked out at the world knowing it was finally too late for his father to have an adventure, and nothing seemed in color anymore.”

The Lost City of the Monkey God - Douglas Preston (***)

“But then the teules [foreigners] arrived and everything fell apart. They brought fear, and they came to wither the flowers.”

Crashing Through - Robert Kurson (****)

“It wasn't who a person believed himself to be or what he pretended he would do in a given situation. It was what he did when he got there that defined him.”

“May opened his eyes. Electric dots of silver-white, as many as the sound of a rainstorm, ran to every space in the world, and when he tried to see where they led there was no world anymore, they led everywhere, across a blanket of night that had no edges, and for a moment May didn’t know where he was among these stars, if he was under them or around them or beyond them, they were everywhere and he was everywhere, he was where he wanted to be.”

Shadow Divers - Robert Kurson (*****)

“This is where the hangers on, and wannabes, and also rans, and once greats keep believing in the sea.”

“I love you and you’re not here for me.”

Ross Poldark - Winston Graham (***)

“The greatest thing is to have someone who loves you and—and to love in return”

“Autumn lingered on as if fond of its own perfection.”

Demelza - Winston Graham (***)

“Strange sometimes how easy bitter words came, how hard the kind ones.”

“Let me stay a little longer in the sun.”

Love Looks Pretty on You - Lang Leav (****)

“You turn him into poetry because you can’t have him any other way.”

“I have been quiet lately, I know. Not because I don’t have anything to say but because I have too much.”

“I struggle with things that are as easy to others as breathing.”

“Here is the story of my life. Hoping they would care about me or wishing they wouldn’t care so much.”

“When love swept in like the ocean

And left me in drops, like rain.”

Jeremy Poldark - Winston Graham (***)

“Resentment and bitterness and old grudges were dead things, which rotted the hands that grasped them.”

“It isn’t where you’re born in this world, it’s what you do.”

Edgar: an Autobiography - Edgar Martinez (***)

“I concentrate on the moment and Don’t let the past or the future overwhelm me.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the greatest mariner of all time.”

Warleggan - Winston Graham (***)

“Their lives had been the tragedy of one woman who could not make up her mind.”

“It was not the cold of the night that she felt but an inner cold that no coat would cure.”

“Remember this she thought. In times of jealousy and neglect, remember this. He said: “so you are not to be rid of me, my love.” “So I am not to be rid of you, my love.””

The Black Moon - Winston Graham (**)

“Blemishes on the beauty of a person one loves are like grace notes adding something to a piece of music.”

“We can’t alter the world, we can only adapt ourselves to it.”

The Lost Girls of Paris - Pam Jenoff (*)

“It is simply not enough to be as good as the men. They don’t believe we can do this and so we have to be better.”

Emma - Jane Austen (***)

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”

“I may have lost my heart, but not my self control.”

Wuthering Heights - Emily Brontë (****)

“Because he’s more myself than I am.  Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

“I have not broken your heart—you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.”

“The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her!”

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall - Anne Brontë (****)

“beauty is that quality which, next to money, is generally the most attractive to the worst kinds of men;”

“But smiles and tears are so alike with me, they are neither of them confined to any particular feelings: I often cry when I am happy, and smile when I am sad.”

“If she gives you her heart,’ said I, ‘you must take it, thankfully, and use it well, and not pull it in pieces, and laugh in her face, because she cannot snatch it away.”

“This rose is not so fragrant as a summer flower, but it has stood through hardships none of them could bear: the cold rain of winter has sufficed to nourish it, and its faint sun to warm it; the bleak winds have not blanched it, or broken its stem, and the keen frost has not blighted it.  Look, Gilbert, it is still fresh and blooming as a flower can be, with the cold snow even now on its petals.—Will you have it?”

Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë (*****) {Reread}

“You think I have no feelings, and that I can do without one bit of love or kindness; but I cannot live so”

“He made me love him without looking at me.”

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you—especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame.  And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.”

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will”

“Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless?  You think wrong!—I have as much soul as you,—and full as much heart!  And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you.”

[tellywoodtrash]

kwk lb: aamir khan

every time karan calls this dumbass show of his NATIONALLLLLLLLL TELEVISION, i lose 3 years off my life.

uhhhhhhhhhh karan, you're not a millenial either.

god i cringe every time he tries to appropriate 'millenial culture'. ffs, you're like a decade outside the range.

also fomo is not a disorder, gtfo.

aditya chopra sounds like he's living my his best life.

what do these confessions of his have to do with the damn guest?????

lol thugs as a diwali release. aamir and srk switched their festivals this year.

gotta say aamir looks good. pretentious af, but good.

LMAO SACHAAI SEEDHE BAAHAR KI BRO IM JUST HERE FOR PR.

ugh karan hyping thugs ainvayi mein.

yeah you should be nervous about this movie, aamir. it looks like a spectacular trashfire. oh it'll make money, hundreds and hundreds of crores, but looks like a steaming hot heap of absolute trash.

can't believe aamir and srk have stooped to these kinda garbage movies now.

lmao karan not buying that aamir didn’t do dangal just coz he was “appeasing a certain sensibility”.

so basically a straight ripoff of jack sparrow. like, in every single way.

ugh karan stop kissing ass with the “progressive” shit.

yeah the home situation with reena/kiran is nothing new or interesting, pls move on.

ofc his kids want to be in the movies. do any of their kids not?

damn he sounds like a harsh critic. poor junaid.

UGH I DON'T GIVE ONE SINGLE FUCK ABOUT WHAT THESE TWO MEN HAVE TO SAY ABOUT #METOO.

“it's sad that women have had to come out and speak about it to have created this environment.”

YEAH. IT IS. AND WHAT DID YOU DO ABOUT IT, ASSHOLES? you knew this shit was happening. you always knew. and you did shit. and now for you to sit here and talk about it and gain cool progressive ally points, literally fuck outta here.

forget that song, dil as a movie itself is a misogynist fucking nightmare. he almost rapes her, and then at the last minute doesn't, AND SHE FALLS IN LOVE WITH HIM. FOR NOT RAPING HER. LIKE....................

uh huh “SHOCKED” i’m sure.

that it came out. not that it happened.

omfg this conversation is everything i hate about this topic. WHY THE FUCK WOULD ANYONE PREY ON YOU? YOU'RE AT THE FUCKING TOP OF TOTEM POLE. HOW THE HELL CAN YOU THINK, AFTER HEARING ACCOUNTS ABOUT SOMEONE, THAT OH HE DIDN'T BEHAVE THAT WAY WITH ME, SO HE ISN'T A PREDATOR? it's like saying oh charles manson didn't murder ME, so he's not a murderer. chutiyaaaa hai kya?

aaaaaaaaaaaaand he's walking away with the credit for “taking action”. amaze. 

and karan and his fucking tone-deafness. jfc what kinda delusion. what it must be like to live life as a privileged man with immense power.

please you fuckers are sleeping well at night no matter what. give me a break.

i'm feeling veryyyyyyyyyyyyyyy stabbyyyyyy right now after this fuckall performative garbage of a “segment”.

great sycophantry (that’s a word right?) towards bachchan now. ugh.

yeah bachchan does seem to have that sanki uncle persona, where if he calls, you’re like shit i’ve fucked up. esp. with his saltyass tweets on how no one will return his bday sms's/tweets or some shit. like get over it, grandpa.

ok aamir's pre-release “disorder” sounds like a right fucking nightmare.

blah blah blah is there any juicy goss this ep (that hasn't already been outed in the promos/previews) or should i stop watching already?

karan, if someone is playing THAT hard to get, then you should take the hint that they DON'T WANT to come. 

strong fraternity feeling uh huh. not at all a PR photo op.

yeah of course you and your mid-life crisis don't see any difference between you+srk/ranveer+ranbir

HOW MANY TIMES WILL YOU PLUG THE DAMN MOVIE KARAN. WE FUCKING GET IT. THUGS IS RELEASING THIS WEEK. LORD.

ugh this phone game sounds dumb af. it's like the phone a friend in kbc, except utterly pointless.

sorry too much second-hand embarrassment at the prospect of this only. fwding.

koffee shots - aka we couldn't find anyone to come with you in this episode coz no one likes you/tumhara ego kuch zyaada hi bada hai, toh karan has to play the game with you. it’s this show’s version of taking a cousin to prom.

why did they pair katrina with varun next week tho? so random. she could have come in this ep with aamir?

what are these shots of though? like what are they drinking?

lmao aamir laughing at karan's sex injury.

exactly who’s surprised that aamir’s cheated?

sexy intern??????????????? jfc karan.

y’all are grownass men, why the fuck are you still getting hickeys in places ppl can see them jfc.

yeah no one needed to know the shower bs.

of course karan regifts. we already knew from the last ep.

oh ho, malaika's dropped the khan finally.

and karan's indicating she's gonna switch it up for a kapoor. hmmmmmmm.

gotta say she looks amazing. lord may my mallu genes be as potent as hers and lead me to age this well.

aamir rating himself

he seems like a bit of a troll himself, which is why he doesn’t take them seriously. 

ew he smokes a pipe, how pretentious.

i am karannnn: “that was witty?????”

food/sex? “apne ko toh dono chahiye.”

don’t we all, but that was not the question.

god bachchan forced him to join twitter. sach mein he’s one unbearable sanki buddha. 

ugh these answers are so laaaaaaaaame.

HE'S NOT PICKINGGGGGGGG ANYTHINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG HE'S SO ANNOYINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG WITH HIS AINVAYI KA DIPLOMACY

welll done my asssssss. aise hi channe ki jhaad pe chadha rahi hai.

of course karan's an insta-stalker. why's this surprising to anyone?

“i love being followed.” godddddd.

lmao i suspect aamir's laughing coz he knows karan can never give up gossip. ever.

lol shopping ki bhi beizzattti.

awkwardness with katrina impending after that answer.

LMAO LIKE KARAN JOHAR'S EVER BEEN ON THE MUMBAI LOCAL.

real best friend: aditya chopra. hmmmm.  

but does it even count when you're cousins????

sexiest actor: john abraham

lolololol who even cares about HIM anymore???

how can the feeling that someone NEEDS you be... good?

(that too coming from the man who wrote “main kissi ki zaroorat nahi, kwahish banna chahti hoon.”)

WHAT THE FUCK HE PICKED KAREENA OVER TWINKLE

lol he’s prolly changing it to kareena coz she’s in takht and he has to kiss ass to get it done.

idk i feel shakun batra's the most promising outta the three? makes appropriately commercial movies, but pleasantly subversive ones. also gets good performances outta his actors. i think the choice was pretty clear.

FUCKING PICKKKKKKKKKKKKK ONE OF THEM, KARAN YOU ASSHOLE. THIS IS BULLLLLLLLLSHITTTTTTTTT.

LOL AAMIR'S GLEE AT HIS INABILITY TO PICK. 

pft ainvayi mein de diya isko hamper, ofc karan wouldn't take it on his own show. also that bhai answer was lame as fuck.

lmao karan is being salty.

ouff abhi bhi 10 min baaki hai quiz waali bakchodi ke liye.

“i'm not known for my speed.” ... good for kiran, i guess. snort.

“i'm not known for my information.” oh pls karan.

LAY OFF ALIA YOU PERV SHE'S WAY TOO YOUNG FOR YOU UGH THERE'S MANY OTHER AGE APPROPRIATE ACTRESSES

pffffffft the dumbass pet peeves list. hattt yahaan se, hypocrite.

how are some of these answers “correct”???? like, asking him his preferences? how is there a “correct” answer to those? 

snort aamir trying to psych karan out.

lolllllllllllll aamir's confusion at the concept/existence of a mochaccino.

why do these grownass men not know their warm colours?

THREE THINGS YOU CAN DO WITH YOUR HAND PE THARAK KI TARAF KYUN JAATA HAI TUM LOGON KA DIMAAG

HOLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII SONGS COME THE FUCKKKKKKK ONNNNNNNNN OMG YOU’RE A BLIGHT ON THE NAME OF BOLLYWOOD

wow he picked resul pookutty over bhanu athaiya? surprising.

khud ke show par hi prize le gaya. pft.

some more thugs plugging, blearghhhhhhhhh.

next week looks more fun. lol @ varun and his always wanting to pee. he did that during the FC interview with anupama chopra/anushka too.

lmao sab ko shaadi kab ho rahi hai question. i love varun.

[janeeyreheresy]

Reunited

Jane gets off the chaise a mile from her destination, opting to cover the rest of her journey on foot. Ferndean Manor is a manor-house that Papa Roch bought for the sake of hunting, but could never find a tenant to let it out to due to its dreary location. Jane enters the grounds, but all she can see is trees and the path stretches on forever. At last the house appears in front of her and it is indeed, as the innkeeper put it, a desolate spot. She wonders if life can be there.

Apparently it can--a door opens.

It opened slowly: a figure came out into the twilight and stood on the step; a man without a hat: he stretched forth his hand as if to feel whether it rained. Dusk as it was, I had recognised him—it was my master, Edward Fairfax Rochester, and no other.

And here was I, getting excited it would be someone more interesting. A strong, silent hermit, in touch with nature, a closer kin to the woods than to people, his horse is his only companion, he shuns the society for the hurt they caused him and his loved ones. 

It seems I wandered into a different fantasy.

She notes his appearance is not changed much (for once she doesn't mention his ugliness) but he's looking all hurt and broken. But check this out:

His form was of the same strong and stalwart contour as ever: his port was still erect, his hair was still raven black; nor were his features altered or sunk: not in one year’s space, by any sorrow, could his athletic strength be quelled or his vigorous prime blighted. 

So there is still a lot she likes about the way he looks. It's only his face that's ugly. She likes his general physique. The way she's been going on for the whole book, claiming the moral high ground for not caring about a man's exterior, when she does actually find some of his features attractive. Because that's normal, because she's a human being, like the rest of us. I would have more time for her had she not felt so superior about herself. 

Rochester goes back in. Jane approaches the door and knocks. Mary (John's wife, who used to be a cook at Thornfield, I know y'all getting confused about all the different Marys) opens and gets the fright of her life. Jane arranges with Mary a stay for the night and asks Mary to tell Rochester there's someone to see him when his bell rings. Mary comes back with a message saying Rochester demands to know the name and the business. Mary fills up a glass with water and places it on a tray with some candles; she explains that's how he wants it.

"he always has candles brought in at dark, though he is blind.”

Okay, but why? His house LITERALLY FUCKING BURNED DOWN. He is blind, he could easily knock a candle down by accident! Look, I don't give a fuck, he can scorch himself as far as I'm concerned, but he's not there alone, John and Mary are there and he could put them in danger. He won't be able to play the hero and rescue them if a fire breaks out this time, he can't fucking see!

Jane takes the tray from Mary and carries it to Rochester herself, because of course she cannot think of any other way to come to him other than serving him. 

She brings him the tray, surprising him with her presence, puts the tray down, hands him the glass, pats him on the shoulder and says: "Goodbye, Eddie. Enjoy your miserable existence." And off she goes to live a fabulous life.

Just kidding. That is not what happens. The lovers are re-united is what happens.

Nope. She still calls him "sir" and directly addresses him as "my master". 

You and me, Padme, both.

Charlotte Bronte insisted these two had to be together. Okay. It's her book. I just think it would be a million times more romantic if Jane's first words were: "My dear Edward. I am back and I am here to stay." She doesn't work for him anymore, he's not her master, he's not a master in the Mr Miyagi sense, and although she is somewhat lower than him in society hierarchy, she has her own money now and he is more or less a broken man with whom the gentry doesn't want to associate with anymore. There is no need to call him "sir" again, ever. 

So you wonder, what is the first thing she tells him, once he gets over the shock of her being there in the flesh, when he feared she was dead in some ditch? Does she perhaps say something along the lines of "hey, I heard you're widowed now, so what's up with that wedding?" or "so Thornfield burned down, eh? couldn't deal without me being there to throw water on it, tsk tsk". Or "isn't that just so CONVENIENT that your INCONVENIENT wife KILLED HERSELF?" (And Usain Bolt it out of there.)

What does Jane say to a man who has already married one woman for her money?

Jane: "I am an independent woman now.”

Rochester: “Independent! What do you mean, Jane?”

Jane: “My uncle in Madeira is dead, and he left me five thousand pounds.”

Rochester's reaction:

“Ah! this is practical—this is real!”

It is practical. He's not lying. 

Jane:

"I will be your neighbour, your nurse, your housekeeper. I find you lonely: I will be your companion—to read to you, to walk with you, to sit with you, to wait on you, to be eyes and hands to you. Cease to look so melancholy, my dear master; you shall not be left desolate, so long as I live.”

That's the fifth time she has used "my master" since she started on her journey back to him. Second time she called him so directly.

A nurse or a purse, or why not both, Jane, eh?

[fanfic-phoenix]

The Mysterious Case of Love, Murder and Magic - Chapter 2

Harry glanced round the corner, breathing quick and laboured from the chase.  Clad in a black, warm jumper with the pockets stuffed with supplies for the job ahead.  He’d fix the mess the police had made, he’d change the people’s minds himself.  He would repair the damage, make sure his father’s legacy was one of real justice and inspiration, not fake accusations and an example of a cautionary tale.  His hood fell over his head, only two emerald lamps shining out from under, glowing with exhilaration.  Where was he now?  Ah, St Barts, the scene of the fall.  Perfect.  Oh yes, this was perfect.

He crept round to the front, choosing the place closest to where it had happened.  He could imagine it, a flashing ambulance delivering paramedics to late, a crowd already forming around the crumpled form swamped in blue trench coat.  And now, here he was, ready to add his own piece to the tableau of his mind.  He shook the can clutched in his hand, the same can Sherlock had used to paint his masterpiece (Mr Smiley upon the wall) and that the gang had reportedly used to paint symbols on the portraits in The Blind Banker.  The noise of the aerosol relaxed him, and he grinned.  He understood why people got a rush from this, but he wouldn’t make a habit.  This was business, strictly business.

He let his mind wander as he slunk to a new position on the building to repeat his task, the yellow paint blinding him, the brightest thing in the night, save for the stars in the sky.  He looked up, staring at them, hating them for cursing him so.  It was nice to blame someone for the pain that blighted his life.  And the stars looked back at him, watching him complete another task.

*

Harry hadn’t actually been to the flat yet, he’d tagged along with Sherlock as he flew back to the Yard, having received an urgent text on the way there.  John had declined to come, telling Sherlock that:

“Someone should really have a look at Mycroft’s case - it’s a matter of national security!”

Sherlock had scoffed, and mentioned something about the adorable sense of duty the poor toy soldier had.  The Doctor hadn’t seemed too upset, he’d borne it all with an eye roll and a declaration that he was an ‘utter bastard’’, though this was hastily apologised for and covered with awkward clearing of the throat - clearly John didn’t wish to swear in front of a child.

Soon they were sat in an office, Lestrade and the Miss Wenceslas staring grimly at each other, the Consulting Detective resting his chin lightly on praying hands, the boy wizard sat awkwardly on the outside of the strange group.

Sherlock broke the oppressive silence first, his quiet, baritone voice reverberating in the ears of the others.

“You know, it’s interesting. Bohemian stationery, an assassin named after a Prague legend, and you, Miss Wenceslas.” Piercing blue eyes swept over the woman in question, before returning to look deep into the lagoons of her eyes. “This whole case has a distinctly Czech feeling about it. Is that where this leads?”

There was no reply, but she broke eye contact, becoming incredibly interested in the swirled pattern of dust her heeled shoes had painted upon the floor.

“What are we looking at, Inspector?”

“Well, um…” He hesitated, clearly not expected to be put on the spot. Harry could see the thoughts flash upon his face before disappearing into the obisque of his mind.   “Criminal conspiracy, fraud, accessory after the fact at the very least.  Kidnapping...” He decided, finally.  He added,  “The murder of the old woman, all the people in the flats…”

He was cut off from the list by the panicked voice of Wenceslas.  Harry caught the smirk of the Consultant in the corner of his eye, and realised that Sherlock had known exactly how to get the information out of her.

“I didn’t know anything about that!  All those things!  Please believe me.”  She was staring at Lestrade, ignoring all others as if they were unimportant, irrelevant, non-existent.  Sherlock, though, was certainly aware of the suspect and all of her movements, all of her thoughts.  He nodded to the Detective Inspector, indicating that she was telling the truth. Miss Wenceslas didn’t see the miniscule movement, continuing to talk.

“I just wanted my share – the thirty million.”

Harry’s mind boggled slightly at the amount.  Thirty million?  He could see why she would risk everything on the chance.  Money was a powerful motivator, almost as powerful as love in this case.

“I found a little old man in Argentina.”  And here, of course, was the confession.  “Genius.  I mean, really: brushwork immaculate, could fool anyone.”

Breaking through the words came Sherlock’s sarcastic noise of agreement, and a brief look was spared to fly his way.

“Well, nearly anyone.  But I didn’t know how to go about convincing the world the picture was genuine.  It was just an idea – a spark which he blew into a flame.”

This caught the dark haired detective’s ears, his sharp voice cutting through the air like a knife, asking for identity.  A person.

“I don’t know.”

Lestrade’s cynical laugh echoed, and Harry almost followed.  What fool would work with a man they didn’t even know the name of?

“It’s true!”  She was desperate to be believed now, desperate to have the more serious charges dropped.  “I mean, it took a long time, but eventually I was put in touch with people... his people.”

Harry looked around.  Lestrade still looked sceptical, but Sherlock’s eyes had focussed like a sniper’s laser, aiming straight for her.  

“Well, there was never any real contact; just messages... whispers.”

Harry watched Sherlock carefully.  He was the master detective, of course Harry would watch him most.  It was certainly nothing to do with… anything else.  The master detective in question seemed the same as ever, but the spark of interest in his eyes had been fanned into a roaring, burning blue flame.  It was slightly manic, slightly scary, mostly exciting.  He was leaning forward, his face close enough that the suspect would be able to see the glint in his eyes every time she answered with something interesting.

“And did those whispers have a name?”

Miss Wenceslas quailed slightly under the intensity of the gaze, looking first to Lestrade and then to Harry before she finally gave her answer.

“Moriarty.”

Reactions to the name varied around the room.  Miss Wenceslas, she looked afraid, terrified of the name she had divulged.  Harry, he was clueless, he’d never heard the name before.  Lestrade had only read the name once, on a certain blog entry that Sherlock despised.  And Sherlock, he was the most interesting case.  At the name he had slumped slowly into his chair, eyes reflecting a place far from where they were.  Now, he raised his hands in a prayer position, resting them against his lips.  The three others watched him, watched his cobalt eyes dart this way and that, following thoughts and memories only visible to him.  And then, without warning, the thoughts ceased, his cupid bow lips spreading to show his teeth in a wide grin.

“Sherlock, who is Moriarty, exactly?”

A startled look - he’d been forgotten, not a surprise - before an answer.

“A mystery, Harry.  Something new!  Something that is decidedly not boring!”  The detective bounced to his feet, grabbing his scarf.  Lestrade, always more in touch than Sherlock with the mere mortals, added in his own tuppence.

“Look on John’s blog, he’s mentioned in a Study in Pink, he’s Sherlock’s... fan.”

“A Study in Pink?”

In came the officer Harry knew as Sally Donovan, voicing the question in an incredulous fashion.

“I thought Freak had decreed it must never be mentioned again.”  Her lips quirked into a cruel smirk, “Something about the Solar System remaining inconsequential, no matter who thought otherwise?”

Harry’s jaw dropped, “Do you not know about the Solar System?”

“Oh, for God’s sake!  What does it matter to me?” Sherlock asked with a small pout and long-suffering, annoyed voice. “I don’t care if the Earth goes round the Sun, the Moon, or round the garden like a teddy bear.  It doesn’t affect the work to know that the Earth behaves with the Sun as Mycroft with cakes, therefore, I don’t care.”

With a small huff, the Detective flounced out of the door, leaving the boy wizard to chase after him.

*

Harry smiled, both at the memory and his excellent (if he did say so himself) handiwork. It smiled at him, thanking him for his public service.  Harry knew he’d be pleased, glad the name Sherlock Holmes would be unsullied by the time he was finished in his mission.  One flash later, and he had a picture of his masterpiece stored on his phone.  It was time to go.

He wandered away from the scene, stuffing his paint stained hands deep in his pockets, walking to meet his contact.

“Any change sir?”

A female voice broke the silence of the night, and Harry’s white teeth were visible in his smile.

“But of course, my dear.  Dad always said to look out for you.”

He pulled up the photo on his screen, showing it to her.  A twenty exchanged hand and he walked on, giving a parting glance and final piece of advice.

“Spread the word, you know what to do.  If it’s done right, there’s another tenner in it for anyone I find.” And then he ran, laughing with shadows and racing with the breeze, the soundtrack to the night his own footsteps and blaring police sirens.

The next morning, a day that dawned bright with a cold sun, the remaining residents of 221b (who stayed only as Harry had refused to leave the old domain of his father) were sat together, chatting over cups of tea that had long since gone cold.  Harry was simply glad for the company, not quite willing to be left alone with his traitorous mind.  Ever since the Department of Mysteries - even though it finally revealed Voldemort to be alive and cleared his name - Sirius’ gaunt, accusing face had haunted his mind almost as well as Sherlock’s pale and miserable one did.

“...I reckon you’d like her, she’s been a good friend. I should probably introduce you at some point.”

Harry looked interested for a moment.

“Who’s this?  Maria?”

“Mary.”  There was a sad ghost of a smile on John’s lips, proving he hadn’t quite forgotten his flatmate - certainly not his habit of forgetting the names of the good Doctor’s long line of partners and friends.

“Your planning on dating her then.” Emerald eyes flicked twice over the small stature of the man before him, before a smile broke free. “I wish you luck at dinner tonight.”

“How…? In fact, don’t bother.”

The wizard in training laughed slightly.  He was his father’s son, and it had been rather clear that John was planning a date tonight, what with the newly polished shoes and the lingering scent of the cologne he only wore for special occasions.  Only John didn’t have a girlfriend, so  he was obviously planning to ask the special lady tonight.  The only woman John had mentioned was Mary, so there was the answer.  Simple, really.  He wondered if Sherlock would have approved - both of his deductions and John’s new girl.  Mrs Hudson - who certainly wasn’t the Housekeeper, Dears - came in with biscuits and tea, ready to watch crap telly with John, a ritual followed on the same evening each week.  As the droning voice of the narrator filled his ears, Harry escaped to his thoughts, focusing on memories to thwart the onslaught of screams that echoed in his mind even now - Hermione’s and Luna’s and Ginny’s and so many more mingling together - and to block the face of his godfather, dead because of his folly.

*

“Come on Harry!”

With a swish of the long navy trench coat he was off again, walking with hopelessly long strides that the following boy could only dream of matching.  This seemed to occur to the sociopathic genius, who finally slowed, waiting for his estranged son to match his position.  The tracks stretched out before them, air filled with the bustle and noise of workers.  But workers held no interest for Sherlock Holmes, which meant they simply passed without the courtesy of even a second glance, the fleeting impressions of their faces blurring into one in Harry’s memory.

“Mycroft gave me this case, amazingly it’s at least a seven.”

“So why’d you send John alone?”

A look fell upon him, a perfect path of vision from cold blue eyes trailing down hawk-like nose before landing upon his insignificant figure.

“Mycroft gave it me.” He said finally, as if the simple sentence should have cleared it all up.  It didn’t, and with a sigh he continued.  “I’ve been following, of course, in secret.  Couldn’t let my dear brother discover I was working one of his cases - he might expect me to take the boring ones.”

“Is it really that important?”

A small huff.  “Perhaps.  Obviously, there’s Mycroft and John worrying about foreign spies getting ahold of it, but I reckon that to someone else it’s even more important than that.”

“Oh?”  Harry tried to remain aloof and cold, but the burning flame of his curiosity melted the ice he had intended to coat his words.

“I have a sneaking suspicion that Moriarty’s game is to distract me.”

“Game?” He questioned, incredulity colouring his words, shocked anyone could consider blowing up people and buildings, keeping hostages and leaving corpses, a game.

He didn’t receive an answer, truly he hadn’t expected one.  They had reached the crouched figure of John Watson, who was muttering quietly to himself.

“ Right, so, uh, Andrew West got on the train somewhere – or did he?”  Sudden uncertainty flashed through the amateur's voice.  “There’s no ticket on the body. Then how did he end up here?”

There was an approving nod from the silent Detective, who studied every move of the Doctor, almost as if he was the case.  The faithful blogger had fallen silent, his gaze moving up and down the tracks.  They waited a few moments, before Sherlock grew impatient, calling out from behind, though he still sounded pleased.

“Points.”

“Yes!”  The voice of the jumper clad man sounded, and as he sprung to his feet to face them (with surprising speed for a man who had once possessed a psychosomatic limp), Harry realised that John really hadn’t noticed them.  He’d been sure that he’d have at least felt the two pairs of eyes bearing into his back.

An orotund voice sounded out, tinged with both amusement and pleasure.

“Knew you’d get there eventually, you do seem to be marginally improving.  West wasn’t killed here, that’s why there’s so little blood.”

“How long have you been following me?”  There was no annoyance in the tone, Harry noted.  Was he good at hiding it?  Or was he simply used to being followed.  Did he expect Sherlock to leave him out of the loop?

“Since the start.”  Came the confession, not an ounce of regret to be traced.  “You don’t think I’d give up one a case like this just to spite my brother, do you?”

He’d begun to walk away.

“Come on.  Got a bit of burglary to do.”

And then he was gone, leaving the two mere mortals who tagged along to stare blankly at each other, the connection of mutual sympathy and confusion binding them together.

“Did he just say…?” Began the newcomer.

“Burglary.”  Came the breathless voice of the old timer, veteran both of war and Sherlock’s London battlefield.  With a shake of his head and bemused laugh, the blond man began to walk, motioning that Harry should follow.

“Can’t let him go alone,” came the explanation, “He’ll get himself hurt.  Strictly speaking, I really shouldn’t be letting you come, but Mrs Hudson’s out, and Sherlock wouldn’t be pleased if I took you home anyway...”  There was a pause as John wrestled with his conscious, “Just… don’t get hit by anything.  Rocks, bullets, bombs… Just be careful.”

And with that, they ran to catch the crazy man who hatched the plan.

It didn’t take long for the trio to be reunited, walking down the street to their target.

“The missile defence plans haven’t left the country.”  Sherlock stated, his voice oozing confidence with every syllable.  “Mycroft’s people would have heard about it.  Despite what people think, we do still have a secret service, despite how laughably obvious they are.”

“Yeah,”  John added, much less confident than his younger but towering companion, “I’ve met them.”

Sherlock continued, oblivious to an comment, or perhaps simply not deeming it an important enough contribution to warrant further discussion.

“Which means whoever stole the memory stick can’t sell it or doesn’t know what to do with it.  And with plans like that, my money’s on the latter.”  He paused, walking for a few moments silently before declaring their arrival.

Leading them down the drive of a quaint maisonette, Holmes trotted up the steps of the side of the building.  21A, announced the door.  Harry and John hung back, redundant at this moment in time, watching the Consulting Detective play with his lost potential - that of a master criminal.

John’s urgent doubts on the emptiness of the building were brushed aside like irritating gnats, and the door soon bent to the will of a young man and his wire, opening with a soft click.

“Jesus...” whispered John softly.

“Merlin…” whispered Harry, almost silently.  No one heard him, so he avoided the questioning looks he knew would come if he neglected to guard his tongue better.

“Where are we?”

Sherlock, who had moved further along, thoroughly enjoying the chance to indulge in some of his more questionable urges, turned round with a grin.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t I say?  Joe Harrison’s flat.”

Harry decided now was a good time to remind people of his continued existence, and hopefully he would receive a filling in.

“Joe…?”

“Brother of West’s fiance.”

Apparently he wouldn’t receive an explanation.  Sherlock seemed satisfied to be looking at the sight through the window, and John seemed happy to simply stand there, an accessory to make the Detective look good (and occasionally fill a certain person in on social customs).

Sherlock had begun to speak again, the sound of his voice silencing any words and stilling any thoughts that had been in the room previously.

“He stole the memory stick; killed his prospective brother-in-law.”

He had dropped to his knees, managing to remain dignified whilst crowding all his limbs in, peering at the edge of a window sill with a pocket magnifier.  In a few moments the others had joined him, two extra heads over his bony shoulders, all eyes on the tiny spots of crimson on otherwise pristine paint.

“Why did he do it?” Asked Harry, having gathered enough to know that there had been a theft and murder, something the Detective seemed to enjoy far too much.

All three straightened as the front door was unlocked, Harry jumping in shock, John with military precision, Sherlock with dignified collectiveness, as if it was part of his plan.  Perhaps it was.

“Let’s ask him.”

They crept to the landing, silent in their mission to keep their target from noticing his home had been infiltrated.  John had reached to the back of his blue jeans, and Harry caught sight of a pistol’s handle, though neither he or Sherlock commented on it (or it’s legality).  As the three stepped onto the landing, their steps in perfect sync with racing hearts, Joe was leaning his bike against the wall.  At the sight of them, he raised it, aiming so it would take out both Harry and John.  John’s right hand was raised in an instant, pointing his weapon so it would incapacitate, but not kill.  Sherlock, he had swept Harry out of the line of fire, his face a picture of apocalyptic anger, without even twitching his lips.  It was his eyes that were furious, two cyan daggers stabbing through porcelain mask.

“Don’t.”  Came the stern voice of John.

The bike was raised, but John shook his head, repeating the order.  Flashing a glance between the gun and Sherlock, Joe sighed, frustrated and afraid.  They went through to the living room, and Harry felt the golden flame of happiness born from his father’s defense spark deep in stomach, flickering like a wax candle.

Not long later, the suspect was sat on the sofa, the Baker Street boys standing nearby.  Harry had been placed on a dining room chair, with instructions to ‘leave this to me and John, observe and learn.’

“It wasn’t meant to…”

Sherlock looked briefly away, exasperated, perhaps, by the stupidity in the room.

“God,” a shaking palm rubbed over his face. “What’s Lucy gonna say? Jesus…”

“Why did you kill him?”  Dear John Watson, so much more comforting, so much more likely to elicit a response.

“It was an accident.”

Sherlock gave a rather undignified laugh, though privately Harry agreed. What were the odds of murder after theft being an accident?

“I swear it was.” Desperate.

“But stealing the plans for the missile defence system wasn’t an accident, was it.”  This was no question, it was a sternly worded statement from Sherlock, who perhaps did understand the gravity of the situation.

“I started dealing drugs.  I mean, the bike thing’s a great cover, right?  I dunno - I dunno how it started, I just got out of my depth.  I owed people thousands, serious people.  Then at Westie’s engagement, he starts talking about his job.”

Harry looked at Sherlock, who’s alert eyes seemed to have glazed over.  He could tell what he was doing; his mind was supplying with the images to match the confession, giving him the final story.

There stood Joe and Westie, the normally careful Westie, drinking at a bar.  A stag-do.  The ridiculously drunk Westie showing off his job, the memory stick, waving it around as if it was a fan, oblivious to Joe’s greedy eyes following its path, realising how rich it could make him.

Joe, pretending to help the plastered Westie into his jacket, a guise to slip the memory stick away.

A few days later, the furious Westie confronting Joe, knowing exactly what he had done. An argument that escalated into a scuffle.  A scuffle that escalated into a death, Westie tumbling down the stairs from Joe’s aggravated shove, landing heavily at the bottom.

A prone body lying in the living room, with an anguished killer pacing beside it.  The train’s squealing brakes audible outside, and the light of an idea glinting in regretful eyes.  A body now on the roof, the cold wind biting both the corpse and the man who made it, as the dead man was discourteously dragged over the roof and lay to rest upon the curved roof of the train....

“Carrying Andrew West way away from here.  His body would have gone on for ages if the train hadn’t met a stretch of track that curved.”  Sherlock’s voice broke through, splitting any mind’s reenactment of the screen rudely in two.

“And points.”

“Exactly.”  Sherlock gave a slight grin to the small man beside him, before readjusting his face to glare at Joe.  He didn’t like him - how dare he threaten Sherlock’s Blogger and Sherlock’s son, at the same time!

“D’you still have it then?  The memory stick?”

An affirmative nod to the Doctor.

“Fetch it for me - if you wouldn’t mind.”

A sigh at the Detective’s falsified manners.  As he left, Sherlock moved closer to the two people he - however much he may deny it - cared for.  

“Distraction over, the game continues.”

“Well, maybe that’s over, too.  We’ve heard nothing from the bomber.”  Came Watson’s optimistic reply.

“Five pips, remember, John?”  Came Sherlock’s realistic reply.  “It’s a countdown, and we’ve only had four.”

*

With a start, Harry’s mind returned to Baker Street.  Mrs Hudson was gone, and John was looking at him with a concerned gaze.  Clearly he had been lost in the maze of memories for far longer than it had seemed, longer than Mrs Hudson had spent there, and how long had John been waiting for him to come back?

“I was reminiscing.  I got lost in there.”  He offered as an excuse, and John nodded slightly, that same melancholy smile plastered on the face made older by grief.  Could John tell what he had been thinking of; the first case he had been with them?  Or could he see Sherlock’s influence on him, long periods spent in silence, one in the world of crap telly and Doctor’s appointments, the other of Deductions and his own thoughts.

John excused himself, preparing himself for a meal with Mary.  As he walked to the stairs, Harry noticed something, something that brought an uncomfortable lump to his throat and sickness in his stomach.

A limp.

Sherlock had warned him about this through the Homeless Network.  He had received a message, not three weeks after Sherlock’s death, a crumpled note in return for five pounds.

Keep an eye on my Blogger, Harry.  If he limps, get rid of it. It’s dangerous. Ask Mycroft to help if necessary, I’ve a few favours you can use.

-SH

His Blogger, of course, was John.  It?  That referred to the gun, the metal hunk that stayed locked in a drawer, the monstrosity Sherlock feared John would turn upon himself if left alone to return to the same state in which Sherlock had found him.  Harry had only heard it described to him; a shell of a man discharged from the army, plagued with a psychosomatic limp, visiting a rather poor therapist and in possession of a quite possibly illegal firearm, which he had obviously thought of using on himself.  Sherlock had thought that the return of the limp he had cured would be a sign, a sign of deteriorating spirit and psyche, and perhaps of impending danger.  Harry could see the logic, but really didn’t want to carry it out.  He was afraid, afraid to even think of what would happen if John… if John tried to follow Sherlock.  They would have to explain it all - if he lived - and it would destroy him.  He’d never forgive any of them.  He shivered slightly at the thought and clutched at the phone on the table.

“Uncle Mikey? I need a favour…”

Other chapters

[rufusdawes]

Grape Expectations

I’ve never really been much of a wine drinker. Growing up I would eschew my parents’ offerings of a Sunday glass with our weekly roast dinners in favour of a sparkling grape juice. Only recently have I been able to tell the difference between red and white, and that’s with my eyes open. Wine was always something other people did. In fact, by the time I was living on the Sunshine Coast, alcohol was something other people did. But then I moved to the Northern Territory. Here, in the spiritual home of VB, where their green cans litter every roadside stop and every bit of roadside in between, I reacquainted myself with the amber nectar. On the Barkly cattle stations, XXXX was my beer of choice. On trips south to the Alice, something more boutique, like a Coopers Pale. Upon returns to the coast, I’d partake in beers made by men that spend too long grooming their beards and call their creations names like ‘Sad Dog IPA’ or ‘Duke of Gloucester’ or some other such nonsense.

Once I’d made the permanent move to Alice Springs and more specifically, as I started having regular meals chez Aaron and Kate, I made the move onto wine. And not just any wine. Good wine.

Naturally, I started off knowing it was good because it cost more than Yellowtail, but in time I came to know it was good because it tasted better than Yellowtail. I think I was developing a palate but without knowing what that meant. It mirrored our steak evenings (https://rufusdawes.tumblr.com/post/157518431764/fillet-oafish) in that now, it has been impossible to match our home scotch standards in any restaurant we have since attended. And so with the wine. On ordering at our local watering hole I can taste the relative inferior aspects of their offerings. Though to be fair, during our winter months, I’m not downing pub bought vino for its quality.

A year into weekly steak nights and my meat and wine standards have risen. Aaron has slowly been pulling a ‘My Fair Lady’ on me. I think he stands to win a wager if he can pass me off as an oenophile during our trip to the Barossa. Which brings me on to our trip to the Barossa.

In early December, the Alice Springs Steak Lovers of Aaron, Jurgen and myself along with Kate and Jo, though sadly missing Dave and Maddy, had two nights at Tanunda in the heart of the Barossa Valley an hour or so north of Adelaide. From here we would have the opportunity to tour a smattering of the myriad wineries on offer. Prior to Jurgen and Jo’s arrival the rest of us snuck in a few early tastings at Rockford, Turkey Flat and at Artisan where I was first introduced to the word ‘tannins’ in a wine context and encouraged to use descriptors such as smoky. Also, on how to swirl a glass so that it looks like you know what you’re doing before sniffing, swirling some more, supping, sniffing, swirling, supping, and then discarding the remains nonchalantly, rather than openly weeping as the most expensive wine you’ve ever tasted gets tipped into a spittoon. I even started holding the wine up to the light to confirm that it was indeed red or looking at the legs as they glided down the inside of the glass and confirming to myself that, yep, this wine has legs. My education had begun.

However, this was only the entrée to what was to follow for our one full day in the valley. On Wednesday morning, at 10am on the dot, a black 1962 Daimler Majestic Major Limousine pulled into the gravel driveway of our accommodation. An hirsute and impressively moustachioed gentleman, in his early 50s stepped out to introduce himself as John, our guide and educator for the day. He acquainted himself with the five of us and discussed each of our wine tastes. I could confirm that I did indeed like wine and would like to taste some. Essentially, Jurgen, Jo and I tried to defer to Aaron and Kate for whom this was not their first trip in John’s Daimler.

To start us off was a trip to Tscharke and things were already looking up. Set in a German timbered style cottage amongst some of their productive vines, they were selling one particularly quaffable Shiraz (a three vineyard Shiraz called ‘Shiraz, Shiraz, Shiraz’) at just $10 a bottle, which even fell within my budget.

On to Greenock Creek where we were introduced to our first ‘Mum and Dad’ winery. A phrase that John used regularly to describe the small, family owned and operated establishments that are numerous throughout the region. Unlike the large winemakers such as Jacob’s Creek, which are running industrial scale productions and cater accordingly, the family run ones offer a more intimate setting and connection to their products.

Langmeil was our final stop of the morning, home to what are thought to be the oldest Shiraz vines in the world. Planted in 1843 by Langmeil’s German migrant founder Christian Auricht, they have earned the reputation as the oldest following the Great French Wine Blight of the mid 1800s which laid waste to the French wine industry. As such many Australian vines, especially of the Shiraz variety, are now among the oldest producing vines in the World.

A morning of three cellar door visits meant the lunchtime feast was eagerly anticipated and hoovered down. Naturally, the four meat eaters at the table chose the steak but of course, it could not fulfil the lofty standards of the Alice Springs Steak Lovers. As we dined however, John was making a couple of phone calls to set up our afternoon. We were to be in for an absolute treat.

After a quick stop at a cheesemakers which served as dessert to our two course luncheon, we were off to Cimicky Wines. Owned by husband and wife Charles and Jennie Cimicky, it was John’s personal connection to the family that got us in through the door. We were greeted by Jennie before Charles offered to take us on a tour of the production. This included a visit to a couple of barrels soon to have their contents bottled. Charles’ generosity knew no bounds as he poured us each a taster somewhere in the region of a couple of hundred millilitres. This was before we went back to the main tasting area where again, each glass was bordering on a regular serving. Charles was an incredibly unassuming fellow, modest, generous and open and it was to my misfortune that I declined a visit to the Cimicky cellars to try a port that has been aging for 25 years and never bottled, due to the time restraints that we were readily accruing thanks to Charles’ existing hospitality. Aaron’s incredulity at such a refusal will never be matched.

Fortunately, the day was still only to get better despite being on an upward curve ever since waking, since we left Charles and Jennie to meet with Dave Powell.

Dave and his General Manager, Paul, met us outside a pub where they’d been watching Australia polish off England in the Adelaide Test match. A few rum and cokes to the good and watching an Aussie victory had them both in good spirits. Piling into their Toyota Hiluxes we drove the couple of kilometres down a dirt track too dirty for a 1962 limousine and into the hub of Powell & Son wines. Here Dave regaled us with the story of his youth, his marriages, his success in founding Torbreck wines, his anger at being pushed out of Torbreck wines by his American billionaire partner, the money earned, the money lost, and his success at starting again in a more boutique operation with his son Callum.

As he told his stories, he would stop to introduce us to one of his wines and tell us a bit about its history. Like Charles, he would pour generously and all wines were opened for our benefit. Moving from the Riesling through the GSM and into the Shirazes, we were getting into the bigger and bolder wines. The cost of each was rising too and as a $125 bottle of 2015 Loechel Eden Valley Shiraz was opened, I hoped that my wine naivety would not be overtly evident. It was at this point that I made the decision not to be pouring away a single drop of anything that was offered, especially since I noticed that a bottle of the Powell & Son flagship Steinert Flaxman’s Valley Shiraz was sitting at the end of the table.

Sure enough, with corkscrew in hand, Dave reached over and opened up this $750 a bottle wine. Again, a large glass was poured and I was thankful that I’d spent a day and a half learning what I liked in a wine and how to appreciate a good one. I’m delighted that this was the best yet.

Asking if we’d yet made dinner plans, Dave suggested FermentAsian back in Tanunda. He made a call, secured us an 8pm booking and then offered us the opened bottles of the Steinert Flaxman and the Grenache to take with us, and we left with a third after Jurgen asked if we could also take his favourite, the Loechel Eden.

Sitting in the office, I don’t think any of us had any idea just how revered Dave Powell is in the industry. To finish with a quick tour, see the wine barrelled and ready to be shipped to Tetsuya’s in Sydney (one of the finest restaurants in the world) and then talk vine management and maintenance on the way back to the limo with one of the great winemakers of his generation was the icing on the cake of a day already with more icing than a Swedish hockey festival.

John dropped us back in Tanunda an hour and half later than scheduled, such was our overrun. We headed off to FermentAsian for our degustation where we were met by the house sommelier whose opening words were ‘so, I hear you were with Dave earlier’. It’s fair to say that they looked after us after that.

As a newbie to wine and looking back on this day, I found it wise to heed the words the American satirist P.J. O’Rourke attributes to his co-drinker, Christopher Buckley; “You know this trick about wine tasting? If you’re at a loss, describe someone who’s in the room”. https://www.forbes.com/forbes-life-magazine/1999/1030/112.html As far as the Steinert Flaxman’s goes though, if I should ever meet the person in the room who I can describe to do that justice, I might just have met the love of my life.

Enjoying the hospitality of Dave Powell; Entity, Riesling, the author, Sparkling & Tawny.