#even though i love hugh laurie and stephen fry

[mytly4]

#'canonically straight' they canonically spending half the series trying to avoid and break off bertie's accidental marriage engagements 

(tags via @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses​)

Exactly. Frankly, I’m flabbergasted that anyone who has the slightest knowledge of the Jeeves and Wooster books could claim that these two characters are “canonically straight”. As the tags above say, most of the plots are about Bertie desperately trying to get out of his accidental engagements to women, and Jeeves helping him do so. Bertie’s attitude towards any woman who is/could be a potential partner for him is unmitigated horror, even while he acknowledges that objectively speaking, they’re quite attractive (e.g., Florence Craye). IIRC, the only woman he ever expresses the slightest attraction to is Bobbie Wickham, and that feeling evaporates pretty quickly when he learns she was behind a practical joke played on him.

On the other hand, when it comes to women whom there's no danger he'll wind up getting engaged to (except in the minds of their jealous boyfriends/fiances), such as Stiffy Byng or Pauline Stoker, Bertie is thoroughly friendly, in the “gay best friend” mode. For example, when he finds Pauline unexpectedly in his bed at night, his first thought is about how much the colour of her pyjamas suits her!

None of this exactly screams “straight man”. My headcanon is that Bertie is some combination of ace and gay. Though not aro - he likes the idea of falling in love just fine; he just doesn’t want to get married (which in his time, would inevitably have to be with a woman, with the expectation of sex).

Jeeves could, I suppose, be mistaken for straight, considering that from what little we know about his love life, he does date women. However, considering his affection for Bertie and how much he enables Bertie to get out of his engagements, it’s possible to see him more as bi/pan. 

i vote that next year instead of reading Dracula we do a Jeeves & Wooster Book Club. those two never got the rabid tumblr shipping fandom they deserved (disqualified for the sheer technicality of being published a century too soon). we must correct this injustice

[thealogie]

Thea, I spent Christmas chatting up a British actor (current family connection) so seeing as there are 11.5 actors on that island I tried to gather the dirt on everyone I could according to your old man agenda. He's small time, but works quite steadily in TV and theater, and HE WORKED WITH MICHAEL SHEEN. Nothing exciting to report, sad to say. Apparently he was quiet and private on set, very polite, that's about it 😒 Sorry about that. BUT HIS FRIENDS WORKED WITH DAVID TENNANT ON PLAYS. Again, no dirt or details 😕 But he was described in less general terms at least, as very witty, charming and ready to mingle as far as his family schedule allows. But family always comes first. He also made a point to say that DT commands the stage. He also briefly worked with Hiddleston if you're interested and says he's very genuine if a bit pretentious, like, he means well and it's all genuine for him but comes off a bit too public school to some. Idk anything about him, haven't even watched Loki yet. And he also had a job where he met Stephen Fry, but was too afraid of him and his treasure status to talk much, perfectly lovely though he said. No Hugh Laurie (whom I also love). So remembering your discourse about lack of awards for your favorite old men I asked him about that, and he looked at me strangely, like seriously? It was difficult for him to grasp that DT and MS might be treated unfairly 😁 Couldn't blame him. After several cocktailes he became more chatty and after a couple of hours I came away with basically this. An idea that someone has an agenda against DT was still laughable for him, and I couldn't interest him much in the fact that DT was never nominated for a Bafta 😏. But he said that there is a bit of an odd complex in the British biz about actors who tried to crack the US but didn't become huge stars like Cumbersome or Loki, like some do see them as a bit of second rate compared to the lucky ones. You should either not try at all, never go to H-wood, or you come back the winner, a proper intl star. If you tried and failed, or simply worked as a jobbing actor there, then even if you are liked better than Sherlock or Loki, you still have a whiff of something amateurish about you. Like, there are grumbles against big actors "selling out" to H-wood but at the same time it is seen as a stamp of approval from the big boys and it tickles the national pride organ. Hope it helps. 🙂

Dyyying laughing!! thank you for your valuable contribution to old British man deuxmoi. This is so consistent with their vibes, like Michael has always said he’s not fun on set (except if you’re David Tennant or Lizzy Caplan) and like of course David is nice and charming to everyone.

That’s a fair explanation of the awards thing but I actually don’t think the awards shows are out to get Michael but I do think they want to hunt David for sport due to his doctor who popularity

[freenewsreport]

Alexander Armstrong: More Than Just a Familiar Face on TV!

When you hear the name Alexander Armstrong, chances are, you immediately think of his charming, witty persona on Pointless, or perhaps you’ve caught him singing on one of his albums. But Alexander Armstrong is much more than just a TV host with a love for trivia. His career spans music, acting, comedy, and presenting—a true jack-of-all-trades! So, how did this all-around entertainer become a household name in the UK? Let’s take a deeper dive into the life and career of this multi-faceted star.

The Early Years: From Humble Beginnings to Stardom

A Scholar and Performer at Heart

Born on March 2, 1970, in Rothbury, Northumberland, Alexander Armstrong didn’t exactly grow up in the limelight. The youngest of three siblings, he attended Durham School and later moved on to the prestigious Cambridge University, where he studied English literature. It was here that his love for performance began to bloom. Like many before him, Cambridge gave Armstrong the perfect platform to explore his comedic talents, and he became a member of the famous Footlights, the university’s theatrical club, known for producing comedy greats like Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie.

While most people only see his polished TV presence, Armstrong’s journey to fame started with small gigs and comedy sketches. Alongside Ben Miller, Armstrong formed the comedy duo Armstrong and Miller. They would go on to have a successful BBC sketch show, winning awards and gaining critical acclaim.

Alexander Armstrong’s TV Success: The Rise of a Quiz Show Icon

Pointless: The Game-Changer

You can’t talk about Alexander Armstrong without mentioning Pointless. The trivia game show, co-hosted by Armstrong and his witty sidekick Richard Osman, has become an institution in British television. The show, which flips the traditional quiz format on its head, asks contestants to come up with the most obscure answers possible—a refreshing twist that’s resonated with audiences since it first aired in 2009.

With his charming demeanor and clever quips, Armstrong has turned what could be a simple quiz show into a must-watch TV event. His natural chemistry with Osman makes it feel like you’re watching two old friends bantering, which has definitely helped the show’s longevity.

Beyond Pointless: A Man of Many Talents

Though Pointless remains his signature show, Alexander Armstrong hasn’t limited himself to quiz hosting. He’s presented Epic Win, narrated Hey Duggee (yes, that delightful children’s show), and even hosted BBC’s Have I Got News For You several times. It’s clear that Armstrong is at ease in front of the camera, no matter the format.

A Musical Side: The Singer Behind the Host

Wait... Alexander Armstrong Can Sing?

Surprised? You’re not alone! Many people don’t realize that Armstrong is a classically trained baritone singer. While his television career was taking off, Armstrong was also nurturing his passion for music. He’s released several albums, including A Year of Songs (2015), Upon a Different Shore (2016), and In a Winter Light (2017), all of which showcased his vocal range and love for classical and popular music.

Who knew that the quiz show host could hit all the right notes in the studio as well? Armstrong’s musical journey isn’t just a hobby; he’s performed live at venues across the UK, proving that his talents stretch far beyond the screen.

The Comedy Duo: Armstrong and Miller

A Comedic Legacy

While Pointless might have cemented Alexander Armstrong’s status as a TV star, his comedic roots are just as important to his legacy. The Armstrong and Miller Show, which originally aired in the late '90s before being revived in the 2000s, was known for its unique blend of absurd humor, intelligent satire, and memorable characters. Alongside Ben Miller, Armstrong created iconic sketches, with the pair becoming one of the UK's most beloved comedy duos.

Their collaboration led to two BAFTA nominations, and while they’ve both gone on to successful solo ventures, fans still hold their hilarious sketches close to their hearts. Whether it was the cheeky RAF pilots or the hilarious suburbanites, the duo had a knack for making audiences laugh with their offbeat humor.

Alexander Armstrong: A Family Man

Life Beyond the Spotlight

As much as we see Alexander Armstrong in the public eye, he’s managed to maintain a relatively low-key personal life. Married to Hannah Bronwen Snow since 2003, Armstrong is a father of four boys, and he has often spoken about how important family is to him.

Despite his busy schedule, Armstrong always finds time for his family, often retreating to his home in Oxfordshire when he’s not on set or recording an album. In interviews, he’s shared his love for the countryside and how it gives him balance amidst the hustle and bustle of his professional life.

Armstrong's Lesser-Known Roles

Did You Know?

Voiceover Work: You may not realize it, but Alexander Armstrong has lent his voice to various shows and films. From narrating Hey Duggee to voicing characters in animations like Danger Mouse, his vocal talents have found a home in the world of voiceover work.

Acting Appearances: Armstrong has also taken on acting roles in shows like Doctor Who and The Sarah Jane Adventures. Though these roles are often overshadowed by his quiz show persona, they’re a testament to his versatility as a performer.

Conclusion

Alexander Armstrong is the ultimate entertainer—whether he’s hosting quiz shows, making us laugh with comedy sketches, or serenading us with classical tunes. His career is a blend of humor, intellect, and artistry, which is why he’s managed to stay relevant across so many different forms of media. From his early comedy roots with Ben Miller to his role as a beloved TV host and singer, Armstrong’s talents are undeniably vast. As he continues to grace our screens and concert halls, it’s clear that Alexander Armstrong is much more than just the face of Pointless—he’s a true Renaissance man.

[whitehartlane]

hello!! i think my previous ask got gobbled up by tumblr 💀 i'm currently reading a few books - i'm around a third through wodehouse's the imitable jeeves, and i love its sense of humour and writing style. i've been reading it after i started the bbc's adaptation (featuring stephen fry and hugh laurie!) and i love seeing how the show adapted elements of the books.

i've also been reading some spurs-related books, namely one step from glory which covers spurs' run to the 2019 ucl final (though i can never bring myself to start the chapter where we play liverpool) and the boys of white hart lane! the latter focuses on the stories of the players under burkinshaw and is especially engrossing for me, since i've learned so many interesting facts about the players from that era!

i'm so glad that the euros in germany was fun while the competition lasted (on a side note, i didn't expect germany to get knocked out so early! thought they were at least semi-finalists given the quality of their squad and home support, but i thought they put up a good fight against spain). from your description i can almost imagine i'm there with all the fans watching and cheering! the scottish fans are so fun lmao, there really isn't a party without them. have read some articles about their passionate support and they seemed to be standouts amongst the other fanbases! and hopefully your friend got some rest throughout the rest of the competition.

also off topic but i'm so excited for the rest of the pre-season for spurs! seeing our win against hearts - especially the second half, what a magnificent game our youth + new players had! i'm so pleased and proud for all of them, they really seem to be buying so readily into angeball and i hope they'll all go far with us (and, equally importantly, have fun playing ange's offensively-minded and fluid football style!). hopefully tomorrow's friendly is going to be a fun one!

- 💙

hi friend!! yeah tumblr must have gobbled the ask up and then i missed it 🤡 but hi!!!

ah the imitable jeeves is on my to read list, i’m glad you’re enjoying it! did you know hugh laurie is an arse fan … i’m watching house at the moment and went down a rabbit hole and looked at the personal life bit of his wikipedia page and found out. the burden of knowledge.

i need to read one step from glory!! i’ve always put it off because that cl run is rly personal to me and hits me right where it hurts. after we lost the final i couldn’t watch football for months. but five years on i think i’m mostly over it (coupled with this promising new era) so i’ll get around to it soon!! the boys of white hart lane <3 the burkinshaw era was probably our second most successful era after the bill nic + double era and i love reading about it 🥺

yeah the general consensus here (tbf ppl are biased but still) is that germany v spain should’ve been the final. it’s just a bit unfortunate that the two nations got caught in the same bracket. and yesss the scottish fans were great! so were the dutch fans, german ppl were quite fond of them when they were here :)

i hope you had fun watching the qpr friendly!!! i’ve had lots of fun watching the kids and i rly think we’ve got the best crop of talent coming through the academy in a long while. the last time we had so much talent quantitatively come through were the years of kane, mason, carroll, townsend, etc. it’s exciting! and what’s even more exciting is that there is a proper focus to develop the academy which is long overdue. hopefully the one against vissel kobe today is a good one 😌

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Six)

AN- Two chapters in one night... hope you like them! Soft Holmes Brothers scene at the end because, especially after the Eurus situation, the boys truly do love and care for each other! Not proof read either of these yet so apologies if there are mistakes!

Word Count- 4405

The younger brother's eyes had flicked over you both only momentarily, the tiniest flick up of his lips at the side of his mouth that disappeared so quickly it could have been misinterpreted for a twitch.

"Ever the delight, Sherlock." Mycroft spoke, standing straighter, his chin poking up a little higher. Sherlock glanced over his posture and rolled his eyes.

"Oh for God's sake don't start that Mycroft. Had I blamed you for everything I can assure you I wouldn't have bothered opening the door, don't make it so obvious that you care about my opinion of you- it's embarrassing for both of us." And with that he spun around and headed up the stairs to 221B, leaving the door to the flat wide open and disappearing into the bathroom.

"Well that was.."

"Easy? I told you that you shouldn't worry." You nudged Mycroft into the building before ascending the stairs.

"Sherlock Holmes, possibly the only man in the world to forgive somebody for nearly killing him in a heartbeat, but held a 6 month grudge when I took the last custard cream from the biscuit jar when I was 12.." Mycroft muttered, making his way into the flat and sitting beside you on the two seater sofa. John walked into the room from the kitchen shortly after, a tray of tea and biscuits in hand as he said his hellos.

"Figured I'd stick the kettle on when you said you were on your way.. Greg shouldn't be long now." He gave a smile, taking his place in his own armchair. "How have.." He glanced at Mycroft. "How have you been? He won't admit it, but Sherlock's been worried about you." Mycroft took a breath, sending a polite smile in the direction of the army doctor.

"Doctor Watson, I can assure you that I am fine and have been perfectly well looked after." His eyes flickered to you for a moment and then back to the doctor. "I presume the pair of you have held up well as I haven't heard any reports of gunfire towards the wall for a fair bit of time." John grinned, casting his eyes over to the smiley face on the wall that had thankfully been left alone.

"Good. Yeah, uh, things here have been.. good.. too." A blank stare matched with a more thoughtful raise of lips. ".. Very good, actually.."

"Catch." Sherlock came stalking into the room, a damp flannel thrown in Mycroft's general direction which he caught expertly, not allowing a single moist patch to appear on his clothing.

"And this is.."

"A flannel? Christ Mycroft has trauma affected your brain cells that much?" Sherlock quipped, flopping down into his armchair and lazily holding his hand out for his tea that was a mere few inches away from his fingers. John placed the mug in his hand without thought or argument, his fingers brushing over Sherlock's slightly before moving away. A biscuit soon followed, John holding out the digestive while Sherlock partly opened his lips, and shoving the food between them. It was your turn to raise your brow now, but you didn't say anything, instead just nudging Mycroft with your knee to make sure he had seen it too. Of course he had. "It's for your face, Y/N's lip balm is all round your mouth and it's making me feel a bit sick." John's eyes widened as he looked between the pair of you. You shrugged your shoulders and smiled, Mycroft simply sweeping away the slightly pink balm from underneath his lip and folding the wet cloth back up to place on the side. At least he hadn't picked up that you did it on purpose. Before anybody else could speak, the sound of someone bounding up the stairs filled the flat.

"Sorry I'm late, Ms Hudson let me in an- what did I miss?" Greg stood breathless at the door, satchel slung over his shoulder and a carrier bag in his other hand, staring at the apparent awkward glances shared between half the room. You stood from the sofa and headed over towards him, swiftly wrapping your arms around him and placing a small kiss on his cheek to say hello. He made his way into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa closest to Mycroft, casting another look at everybody when his question still hadn't been answered.

"Nothing of importance. Mycroft and Y/N have obviously decided to stop moping around each other like lovesick teenagers and finally admitted they've been infatuated with each other for years.. Now you're all caught up, can we get these papers sorted out so I can be more productive with my time?" Sherlock huffed.

"Nothing of importance? Don't be an arse Sherlock, that's excellent news." Greg clapped Mycroft on his shoulder and shot you a toothy grin. "Declaration in the park was it? Might be a good enough reason for me to not punch you for closing off St James'.." John's eyes widened more, if it were possible.

"You just.. closed off St James'? Can you even do-" The look Mycroft shot John made him cut his sentence short. "Right, yeah. British Government." He nodded, standing to go fetch Greg a coffee (yourself and Mycroft still held a shared judgement against Greg and his hatred for tea) and continuing to ask questions about your newly confirmed relationship. Mycroft sat awkwardly through the encounter- briefly talking about his emotions in front of you was one thing, a whole flat full of people was entirely different- so you gave his knee a quick squeeze and answered for him. "Who bit the bullet then?" John sat down. "Christ I know I mistook the pair of you being together when I met you, so surely these two have been waiting longer for you to get on with it." Greg grinned, nodding in agreement at John's assumption. Sherlock, on the other hand, stay lying on his chair completely unphased by the conversation going on around him.

"To cut a long story short, we were watching telly, I said Stephen Fry was a bit sexy, Mycroft informed me that he used to get told he had a slight resemblance to him, I realised I'd stuck my foot in it and had a ramble.. Went from there. Nothing too exciting, sorry." You left out the parts where the night before you had handled a broken Mycroft to the shower, how he had gripped onto you, how you held him as you slept. You also left out the way he had allowed himself to cry, how you held him while he wept- and, for that, Mycroft was incredibly thankful. Sherlock probably knew though, somehow, in his Sherlock way of knowing things- but he was either too kind to announce it to the room, or didn't care enough to waste his breath.. probably the latter.

"That's disappointing. You've mentioned about fancying Stephen Fry for years, this could have happened ages ago." John teased.

"Nothing compared to Hugh Laurie though. I'm pretty certain that I'm straight but I'd let him-"

"The papers!!" Sherlock's shout cut Greg's ramble off, making the silver haired man jump and grab his satchel, handing out the reports in a way that reminded you of a teacher with test papers.

"Right, yeah. Sorry. Basically the proper forms aren't ready for another week or so so these are just a few basic questions- nothing too in depth yet since I wanted to give you guys time to... yeah just basic for now." Mycroft chose to read through all the questions before answering them, whereas Sherlock  hastily scribbled his response to each question as he went along- the smaller details in the Holmes brothers' differences are always interesting to stumble upon. As he held the page in his hands, you carefully leant over to have a glance at the questions, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder and your cheek resting just against your fingers- blissfully unaware at the 2 sets of eyes openly staring at your movements, and the one set that watched from the side. Greg was right, in a way, the questions definitely weren't as overbearing as they could be- but that doesn't mean it was an easy task. The questions targeted Mycroft a lot more than it did John and Sherlock, asking things about scenarios and situations that had occured before they were taken, how long it had been since they had any contact with Eurus prior to that evening/ what they discussed, and a few basic questions about any incentives Eurus may have had, and anything that aided her into her plan. Of course the papers weren't labelled with the sister's name, they were generically printed and typically handed out to anybody involved in any kind of criminal behaviours, but that didn't make it seem any less like these were questions that targeted Mycroft in particular. Mycroft took a deep breath and laid the papers back onto the coffee table in front of him, pulling a pen out of his pocket and beginning to write. In this moment you had noticed the small bounce of his left leg, a movement only ever shown by him in times where he had a particularly stressful day at work, or a troubling encounter with his brother- it was a movement that let you know his brain was running a mile a minute and he felt a little more overwhelmed that usual. Without making a point of it, you move your right hand to rest on his mid thigh, allowing your thumb to rub small shapes into his leg to show your support.

Turning your gaze to the rest of the room, you noticed Greg's eyes on you, a grin on his face that practically stretched to his ears. You rolled your eyes at him, using your other hand to flip him off and smiled.

It had taken just under two hours in total for the boys to finish completely (well, an hour and twenty minutes for the Holmes siblings, an extra forty minutes for John whose brain simply didn't work as fast as theirs to convey the information on the paper). The time had passed fairly quickly, with yourself and Greg not wanting to disturb the silence and instead just drinking your hot drinks and stealing a couple of biscuits from the tray. You gave Mycroft's leg one last squeeze before sitting back against the sofa, stretching a little after finally getting out of that position.

"Thanks again for getting this done today." Greg spoke, taking the papers in and putting them in a plastic folder. "I'd better be off anyway, get these filed in." He stood, heading for the front door and tripping over the carrier bag he had brought in with him earlier. "Shit, yeah I almost forgot." He picked up the bag and handed it to you. "Got your coat, and I may have accidentally read your mind if you had been talking about Stephen and Hugh.." You dug through the bag and grinned as you pulled out the box at the bottom.

"You, Gregory Lestrade, are a bloody legend. God I could kiss you!" Your boxset of 'A Bit of Fry and Laurie' rested in your hands and you showed it to Mycroft, beaming at him. His lips raised at your reaction, showing a small glint in his eye, as you explained how now the pair of you would have to binge watch it since Mycroft had never got round to watching them before. Greg barked out a laugh.

"I wouldn't. I don't fancy being hunted by Mycroft's secret services." Mycroft let out a small laugh himself. And with that, Greg was gone and left the flat to the four of you once more.

***

You hadn't stayed at the flat long before you all made your way to Angelo's restaurant, even managing to convince Mycroft to just take a cab rather than bothering his chauffeur for a 5 minute journey.

"Ahhh Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson!" Angelo greeted, pulling the aforementioned men into an awkward half embrace, half headlock. "Back again so soon? I shall get your usual table set up, grab some candles. Anything for you!" The pair of men awkwardly shifted out of the hold and Sherlock offered a smile.

"Not today Angelo, we need a table for four if that suits your capacities here?" Sherlock peered round at the tables inside.

"Of course, a double date, very lovely to see! Come, come!" He led the four of you inside, you grinning at Mycroft at Angelo's casual mentionings of Sherlock and John's usual 'romantic' set up. You were all ushered inside of a small booth and handed menus, the benches were small but tolerable, your thigh just brushing against Mycroft's, him offering a shy smile at the close contact. "You stay here, I'll get to work on those candles. Just for you, Mr Holmes." Angelo spoke again, clapping Sherlock on his shoulder and disappearing into the back of the restaurant.

"He's.. uh.. a bit enthusiastic sometimes." John spoke, his cheeks burning a little at the memories of previous encounters here.

"Quite. Seems a pleasurable fellow." Came Mycroft's response, glancing over the menu. It had taken no time at all for the restaurant owner to appear back with a handful of small tealight candles in glass jars, and a single flower resting in a vase to lay on the table, taking everybody's orders and leaving once again. Then as the food turned up, Sherlock began to prod at the chips on his plate with his knife.

"What are you doing? Eat your bloody food, Sherlock." John quipped, elbowing the man to his side.

"Don't want it.. whoever decided that dessert was only customary after a meal? I'd much rather wait." John gave Sherlock a look and he spoke again. "Don't give me that look, this was your idea. Who even suggests 'late lunch' as a valid meal time? It's impractical. I didn't eat breakfast because we didn't get out of bed until well past the respected breakfast hour.." 'We'.. you didn't press. "So I had a sandwich at lunch which has ruined my appetite for this. Then I'll be hungry again later, but later than dinner time because of how late this lunch is." Sherlock childishly squashed his chip with his thumb. "It's just ridiculous.. they keep adding new names for new meals at new hours, I feel like we're becoming Bobbits."

"Hobbits, brother mine." Mycroft corrected, the faintest smile playing at the side of his mouth as Sherlock's words sounded alarmingly like the ones he had told you only this morning- it was nice when they just got along.

"That's what I said."

"No, you said Bobbits."

"Boys!" John warned, and you broke out into a small fit of giggles.

"We really can't take you anywhere, can we?" You chimed in. Sherlock just huffed, stabbing a chip and eating it as John gave him a stern look. It was quite sweet, actually, watching them be all domestic. By the time you'd finished your meals, yours and John's plates were clear, Sherlock's leaving only a few chips and a mouthful of burger as he found, after starting to eat the food, that he really enjoyed it and wanted more. Mycroft, on the other hand, had managed to leave little over half of his spaghetti bolognese, making comments about the pasta being far too rubbery, or the sauce being too thin, crossing the cutlery over in the centre and making a dismissive comment about making something to eat when he got home- you all knew he wouldn't.

Sherlock had practically jumped for joy when Angelo came out with a tray of chocolate fudge cake, offering slices around the table which you all, bar Mycroft, accepted happily.

"I shan't spoil my appetite for when I get home." Was his small excuse, raising a hand to prevent Angelo from spouting his claims that he had the best cake in London and that he must have a piece, and instead asking for a coffee. Without words being spoken, John cast his eyes over to you and you offered a small sad smile. Nobody had told John of Mycroft's past, but he was a doctor and always knew when signs were displayed. You had taken an extra fork from Angelo just in case and took a small bite with your own fork, unable to let out the (embarrassingly erotic) moan that had escaped you.

"Christ he wasn't lying, this is incredible." You praised, taking another small piece on the second fork. "Mycroft please give it a try." You offered your hand out towards him, the sliver of cake resting on the tip of the fork's prongs. He looked over at it, his mind telling him to give it a go, at the very least because it had been offered by you, but the image of himself in the mirror this morning came back to mind. He declined the offer and you sighed. Mycroft truly did love cake, and any sweet things, so it was heartbreaking for you to see him turning it away because of the thoughts that ran through his brain. Sherlock had already cleared his plate by this point and stood up abruptly, hoisting his coat back over his shoulders.

"I'm going to go out for a cigarette, care to join me Mycroft?" He had asked, walking past the table. Mycroft creased his eyebrows into a frown.

"Sherlock, the pact? I haven't smoked for three years."

"Neither have I, let's go." Sherlock spoke back quickly, hoisting his brother from the booth and taking the pair of them outside. You raised a brow at John who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I stopped questioning the pair of them and their motives a long time ago." He reasoned, the pair of you turning your heads to see the two Holmes boys outside resting against the restaurant's window.

"I try my best to.. they just still fascinate me." You spoke back, your eyes lingering on Mycroft a little longer before turning back to the table.

"So.. you and Mycroft. Going well?" John asked, his mouth raising in that side smile he often displayed when he was teasing somebody. "I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen Mycroft Holmes smile in a non-threatening way, and over half of those were from since you walked into the flat earlier. I think I can only just about count on two hands times where he's pulled an expression that isn't stoic and emotionless."

"Yeah.. I didn't expect it to happen, if I'm completely honest with you. We've spent so many years just avoiding the subject, but after.. Eurus.. I don't know. It flicked something in Myc that made him regret not doing something about it sooner." John nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "You also don't give him enough credit. Everybody just assumes he's this 'iceman' persona, but it's all a front.. I've watched him laugh so hard that tears fall from his eyes, he's one of those people who throws their heads back and lets out an absolute belter of an infectious laugh. I've seen him get angry at the telly if I came over and some stupid reality show came on the telly.. He shouted at Kim Kardashian once on there for some reason or another. I've stayed up all night with him after he had gruelling days at work, him offering to do the same for me if I had a bad case and couldn't sleep. And then, very recently, I watched him cry." You continued on. "Mycroft Holmes is one of the most emotional, caring people I've ever known, he is just incredibly particular at who gets to see it. You're a doctor, John. You know how experiences in life can shape one's emotional stability, how it alters their mental health. Had you grown up without very many people being kind to you, you'd be scared to let somebody else in too." You finished.

"Sorry.. I didn't mean it to come out in a bad way.. I just meant.. It's nice. Seeing Mycroft acting like that, it's.. nice." He apologised. You waved it off. You knew John didn't mean any harm.

"Mycroft and I are old news anyway.. What about you and Sherlock? When did that surface?" You asked, beaming at the deep red John's face had become as he choked on a sip of his drink. "Oh come on, don't act like that. We've all been waiting for this one to happen since you moved in."

"I.. I don't know what you-" Glaring at him, he stopped himself. "Yeah fine, okay. When we got back to the flat that night we went into the front room and Sherlock lost it. I'd never seen him anything like it before, he just.. he just sobbed into a heap on the floor." He explained, the nervous tapping of his fingers against his glass trying to distract him from his eyes watering. "I didn't know what else to do, so I scooped him up and put him in his bed. He begged me to stay with him and I did. Then he apologised to me, for dragging me in all of that mess, for almost getting me killed and he just wouldn't stop apologising.. So I stole the stereotypical movie move and kissed him. Just kind of went from there. I think that night made us realise that beating around the bush all these years wasn't helping either of us, and the thought that we could have lost the other only a few hours beforehand woke us up." He coughed, his voice breaking slightly.

"God look at us.. All the people in the world and we've landed with the Holmes'" You grabbed John's hand from across the table and laughed. "Makes you feel quite special though, doesn't it? That, equally, there were all the people in the world and they chose us?" John grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

"Could never tell them that though, their egos would go through the bloody roof."

***

"They're talking about us." Sherlock mused, breathing in the London air.

"It seems people do little else." Mycroft returned, casting his glance to you smiling with John at the table.

"She really does like you. I've spent years deducing everything about her to make sure she wasn't a secret Russian spy sent with the motive to kill you." The younger spoke playfully. "You could have eaten the cake."

"Hmm?"

"The cake. I know you wanted it, but you're going back to how you used to be. Now that you're together, you're nervous." Sherlock's voice was nonchalant, simple observations, which didn't ease his older brother at all. "It's pointless. She's entirely infatuated. I thought the childish doe eyes disappeared after being attracted to somebody for a few weeks, but she still looks at you like I look at a triple homicide."

"Resulting to similes now?"

"You need to stop that too. Dismissing it whenever somebody is trying to be... kind... to you. That's just annoying and not a good defence mechanism for insecurities, like a mask made of clingfilm, it's too obvious." Mycroft didn't speak in turn and Sherlock huffed. "She worries for you, she seeks for you to be comfortable in trialling situations, her eyes do that little light up thing every time you open your bloody mouth. Since standing here she's looked over 3 times and smiled to herself seeing you stand here with me without us arguing. I caught her 4 times on the way to the cab from the flat looking at your arse and your legs in that damned suit. You don't have to worry about anything with her- the way she looks at you is so lovesick it makes me queasy."

"And you know this how, Sherlock? Or is this another one of your cruel schemes to embarrass me?"

"Because, Mycroft, it's the same way you've looked at her for as long as I can remember you knowing her. Jesus, Mycroft, I haven't seen you smile this much since we were children.. before we did everything that led us to believe we were any better than anybody else, that we deserved more than sentiment. And it's the same way I.. the same way I look at him." Sherlock's eyes now locked onto John.

"Always did say there would be a happy announcement between the pair of you. Good to see I'm correct once again." Mycroft mused. He remained stoic, but his brother's words were whirring in his brain, leaving him in a state of shock at the curly haired man even displaying this form of kindness towards him.

"You told me once that caring isn't an advantage. But these last few days, no matter how short it has been, have already led me to believe that caring is perhaps the greatest advantage of them all. And I strongly believe you feel the same way, no matter what bull you make up to argue against it." The pair of them watched through the window once more, the image of you and John laughing at whatever joke had been shared between you. "We both have wasted many years fighting against this, and I don't want you to screw yours up. Y/N will remain by your side and feel the same way towards you, whether you wear a bin bag, lose your job, put on weight- she's in it for the long haul. She's spent so many years pining after you that she deserves the best from you and to be happy. And you, brother mine, have been through enough with not good people; you deserve the happiness too." Sherlock trailed the last sentence. It's incredibly rare for them to show it, but Sherlock and Mycroft would always have a particularly close bond, they've been through too much together not to- and so times like this were precious to them. Mycroft simply let out a small cough, reaching his arm over to rest on his younger brother's shoulder to give it a quick squeeze, before patting it twice and letting his arm rest back by his side.

"Sentiment appears to be dwelling well on you." Mycroft spoke, heading back to the door of the restaurant to head inside, holding it open for his brother.

"As it is on you, brother. As it is on you."

[lifeofa-fangirl]

I don’t want you like a best friend

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC

Summary: Taylor Swift causes OFC to put her friendship with Tom on the line

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: A few swear words, a tiny bit of angst maybe? Mostly fluff

A/N: I was stuck on my Damiano David x Reader piece, so I decided to take a break and finally finish this one. I have nothing against Taylor Swift, just used her as a plot piece to move the story along. As always, likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

‘Please come to the BAFTAS with me?’

Lauren scrunched her nose together in slight confusion when a text from her best friend appeared on her phone. The words were simple enough. It was a plea to hang out, similar to the ones where he insisted that he needed to come to Edinburgh again soon. He was constantly begging her to keep the guest room ready, so he could hop on a train and come visit. It had always been too long in his opinion. She never disagreed.

They knew each other a little over a year now and Lauren was still surprised how they’d grown so close so quickly. She always felt like she still hadn’t fully recovered from their first night out together. 

Thinking back at how she’d actually gotten to meet Tom, it still felt like a dream. She still didn’t get how she of all people had gotten lucky enough to win the Omaze raffle that Mark Ruffalo had done. The winner was flown out to LA to hang out with Mark for the weekend and attend the Thor Ragnarok premier. By some lucky strike from the faiths, that had been her. 

She also still didn’t know the exact details of how or why the faiths had written Tom into the story. But the fact was that she had reminded Mark of Tom, he’d introduced the pair, insisting that they would click immediately and they should walk the red carpet together. Lauren still suspected him of setting this up on purpose to distract the press from any spoilers that he would almost definitely be giving away by accident. 

It hadn’t helped Mark much, as he had practically live streamed 20 minutes of the movie, but he hadn’t been wrong on the other front. Lauren had never heard or read a story about Tom that had anything bad to say about him. Charismatic, funny, intelligent and so very kind, was the vibe that clung to him. Lauren had been nervous about meeting him, she believed in never meeting your heroes, and had been scared that he wouldn’t live up to the picture she had painted of him in her mind. But Tom turned out to be exactly as amazing as all the stories deemed him to be. And Lauren had taken an immediate liking to him.

Mark had also been right about the press attention. When Tom had showed up with a date on the red carpet in the first time in forever, the press had had a field day. The constant flashes and questions, all the attention on her, Lauren hadn’t liked it one bit. But Tom had been the perfect gentleman. He constantly had had an arm around her to keep her steady and make her feel safe. He had handled all the questions with patience and grace, never once making her feel uncomfortable. 

And in the end, all the attention had been worth it. They had a lot of fun at the premier, so much that Tom and her had spend most of the reminder of their time in LA hanging out together. As the faiths would have it, they had even been on the same flight back to England, on which he definitely hadn’t boother her up to first class and she definitely hadn’t fallen asleep on his shoulder. 

Lauren had always felt like there could have been something more, but they both had busy lives and had gone their separate ways after the plane had touched ground in London.

They had, however, exchanged phone numbers early on during their stay in LA. To arrange any practical details of whatever they were going to do together of course, no other reason. 

But in the year that followed, the exchange of numbers had led to an almost constant stream of texts. Tom would share snippets of the stuff he was working on, cute pictures of his dog or just something beautiful he had come across on his daily run that he insisted made him think of her. She would vent about the trouble she came across during her shifts in the hospital or send funny pictures of her deeply loved godson.

They had become quick friends, but after twelve months Lauren still wasn’t sure what exactly they had going on. Whether they were bound to stay friends or if there could be something more on the horizon. Every now and then, Tom’s texts would take a flirty turn. But even though she always tried to send a cheeky return, she wasn’t sure what it meant. She knew that, even without realizing he was doing it, Tom tended to be a big flirt with everyone. 

And nothing else had ever happened. She had gone to London a few times, but mostly he came up north to Edinburgh whenever he had the time. She had quickly come to realize he liked how peaceful it was compared to buzzing London. They would hang out in their little cocoon and that was that. 

Every now and then some pap shots would appear of them. Walking Bobby, going for a coffee or grabbing dinner. Friends would always tell her they looked like a couple, the way they stood huddled together, how he had his arm around her lower back or hers was linked through his. But that’s what friends did, right? They hung out together and that’s all there was to it. They were imagining the extra sparkle they claimed to see in his eyes when he was looking at her. Because there was no way Tom was returning the feeling she told everybody she definitely hadn’t developed for him. 

And strangely, most of the time she was content about that. Because she wasn’t seeking any attention and she definitely didn’t want to be known just as ‘Tom’s girlfriend’. And Tom knew that. He respected that and liked it. Because it also meant that in return, with her he could be just Tom, instead of the A-list superstar. They had their own little safe haven together. It was the reason Tom had never asked her to attend an event with her again. And it was the reason she was confused that he was asking her now.

‘Pretty please? Put your loving hand out baby, I’m begging. Begging you.’

Another text brought Lauren back to the present and out of her thoughts. She snorted when she noticed he gave her a taste of her own medicine. Working lyrics into a text or conversation was her specialty, but apparently Tom had taken to drastic measures. She was still confused as to where this was coming from, but also knew she couldn’t say no to Tom, especially not when he was begging. 

“Sure, I guess that could be fun,” she agreed.  She pushed away all thoughts of this being a bad idea and decided to try and just make a fun night of it.

And fun she had. She accompanied Tom to the red carpet, the preshow dinner and the public ceremony. And while she hadn’t expected it, Lauren ended up having a phenomenal time during all of it. She cheered along with Tom when Guillermo De Torro won best director. She got to meet the wonderful Karen Gillan and Tom introduced her to Hugh Laurie, whom she had adored ever since watching Black Adder as a kid.

And she finally found out the actual reason why Tom had begged her to come along with him. Tom had insisted that he’d just wanted her there and wanted to have a good time and that it was time the world got to know the fabulous person Lauren was. But the moment they were on the red carpet and she saw the look on his face when he saw his ex girlfriend step into the spotlight, she knew.

It had been almost 18 months since Tom and Taylor had broken up, but surprisingly it was the first time they attended an event together. Tom managed to give Taylor a polite nod when she passed them, a motion that Taylor didn’t bother to copy. Lauren was suddenly very aware of the cameras around them and she deeply hoped they captured the once over that Taylor gave her, which ended in a look of disgust. Tom certainly had, as Lauren felt his arm slip around her waist to pull her closer to him and felt his lips press a quick kiss on the top of her head. She did her best to ignore the beat her heart skipped.

Things went back to normal, or as normal as the red carpet of an award show could be, after Taylor entered the venue and was out of sight of the cameras. Tom relaxed again, did his best to be his charming self for the interviewers. They enjoyed the show, loved Stephen Fry’s jokes while presenting and overall had fun together. It was a great night. Until Taylor arrived at the after party they were attending.

Much later she would learn that Taylor’s most recent boyfriend had called it quits a day or two before, but the night itself Lauren just knew there would be trouble the moment she spotted Taylor. The singer clearly was more than a little tipsy and despite the loud music, Lauren could almost hear her snarl the moment she spotted Tom, whose arm was hanging loosely around Lauren’s shoulder.

She should have warned Tom, because he hadn’t noticed the singer walk in yet and was happily chatting to the friend besides him. Instead, Lauren felt slightly hypnotized as she watched Taylor. They stared at each other for a moment and in the next, Taylor was walking up to the DJ booth with determination in her step. Lauren watched her greet the man. She shot him a fake smile, gave him a hug and then told him something. The DJ nodded with what looked like a loud laugh and gave her a thumbs up.

As Taylor walked away, Lauren immediately got a bad vibe. She turned her attention to Tom, wanting to inform him about his ex girlfriend just walking in and how she thought she was up to something. But before she could get a word out, the DJ’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Next up we have a request from none other than miss Taylor Swift herself. She asked me to pass along a message. So here it goes: this one is for you, Tom!”

It took a few moments, but when Taylor’s voice sounded through the speakers and she murmured, “No, nothing good ever starts in a getaway car,” all heads in the room seemed to turn in Tom’s direction. 

Lauren was still staring at Taylor, her mouth slightly agape, when she realized Tom’s friends around them had started fussing. She turned around to get a glimpse of Tom’s reaction and found him red-faced and clearly embarrassed. 

Nobody around them seemed sure how to handle the situation and Tom’s face now seemed to drain from all color rather fast. In a split second Lauren decided she needed to distract him and did the first thing that came to mind. She grabbed him by his suit jacket to pull him closer and get his attention and yelled, “Well we’re just a wet dream for the webzine!”

Tom’s face immediately told her the tactic had worked. It scrounged up in confusion. He stared at her for a few long moments and then he yelled back, ”What?”

“It’s a Panic at the Disco song,” Lauren explained, doing her best to be heard over Taylor’s song still blasting through the boxes. Straining her voice, she continued, “It goes: Well we’re just a wet dream for the webzine, make us it, make it hip, make a scene.” She let out a small snort when she realized, “Coincidently the song is called London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines. It continues: Or shrug us off your shoulders don’t approve a single word that we wrote. And then the next verse goes-“

Before Lauren could get out any of the next verse, Tom interrupted her. “You really have a song for every occasion, don’t you?” he wanted to know. He was smiling and seeing him happy again made Lauren’s heart jump more than just a little. She felt so proud she was the reason he was smiling again.

She did her best not to give away what Tom’s reaction was doing to her by simply shrugging in response. “It’s kind of my thing I guess,” she allowed him. Then, not able to help herself, she continued, “As I was saying, in case you are interested, the song continues: just for the record, the weather today is slightly sarcastic with a good chance of A indifference or B disinterest in what the critics say.” 

Her words caused Tom to let out a loud laugh. “You’re more than a bit crazy, you know that?” he told her. But his words didn’t carry any venom to it and his actions confirmed that he was more than happy to have her around: without another word, he pulled her into a hug. “Thank you, love,” he whispered, loud enough for only her to hear.

Lauren’s heart made another jump when she felt Tom press a light kiss against her hair and the smile that was already present on her face only grew wider. ‘Mission accomplished,’ the voice in her head silently confirmed. 

Tom’s smile considerably lifted the mood of the people surrounding them and the rest of the night Lauren and Tom spend dancing with their friends and having a good time. And Lauren couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud about the fact that every time she looked at Taylor from the corner of her eye, she could see her staring at them green with envy.

Quite some time after midnight, Tom and Lauren were both still high on adrenalin from the evening, but the party had started to die down and they too decided to call it a night and drive home. 

Not completely ready to quit the party just yet, Lauren plugged her phone into the sound system and put a playlist of her favorite songs on shuffle.

They had just jammed out to Fleetwood Mac, pulling out their best carpool karaoke moves, when a new song started and a too familiar voice filled the car. “I don’t like your little games, don’t like your tilted stage, the role you made me play -“

“Shit, sorry, sorry!” Lauren grabbed her phone and stopped the song as soon as she heard the first lines, but it was already too late. Tom had obviously recognized Taylor’s voice. The mood in the car went from ecstatic to ice cold in three seconds flat.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tom’s voice was void of emotion, his knuckles were white from tightly gripping the steering wheel and Lauren could easily tell he was angry. She couldn’t blame him either.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” she apologized. She switched to another song in a desperate effort to change the mood again. “I should have thought about this.”

“Well clearly you didn’t,” Tom answered in a flat tone. “I cannot believe you actually have that CD.”

Lauren understood why Tom was mad, of course she did. After tonight she didn’t blame him. But the whole Taylor story had happened before they knew each other. The record came out before they met and started caring about it each other. Back then it had just been good music to Lauren and she hadn’t really cared what the inspiration behind the songs had been. “I got it before we met,” she tried to explain. “Back then I just thought there were some good jams on there, that’s all.”

Tom scoffed. “Well, if you like it so much, maybe you should play Getaway Car again?” 

Lauren was sure a little crack had just appeared in her heart from all the ice in his voice. She blinked a few times in an effort to keep the tears at bay. “You know that song means nothing to me!” 

She cringed at the desperation in her own voice. But it hurt to see him angry at her and she needed Tom to understand that this had been a stupid accident and she would have never played a Taylor song to him on purpose. 

Emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She needed an outlet for them and she almost literally felt her brain to mouth filter short-circuit. And before she realized what was happening, she heard herself say, “Besides, if we are talking about Taylor Swift songs that remind me of you, let me tell you that Getaway Car was never it for me. There’s a whole other song on that album that I link to you. That I can’t get out of my head when I’m with you.”

“And what would that be?” Tom sounded skeptical, as if he couldn’t believe they were having this conversation.

“Dress.”

“Dress?” Lauren could hear the confusion in Tom’s voice. When he briefly glanced over at her, she noticed a frown on his forehead. “Isn’t that the one that is supposedly about Ed Sheeran?”

It seemed like the surprise of Lauren’s confession had calmed Tom down a bit. The effect she had hoped for, but at the same time, it also meant he wanted an explanation. He deserved one. 

Lauren closed her eyes for a few moments and took a deep breath. She realized that this was it. She just ruined their friendship. And she wasn’t sure if it was in the worst or the best way possible. But she did know there was no going back now. 

Another deep breath and there she went, diving of the deep end and changing their friendship forever. “I don’t know. But… earlier tonight you asked me if I have a song for every occasion. And well, I guess that maybe I do. And this is the one I have for every occasion I’ve spend with you.” A small pauze as she figured out how to best continue. “I think… maybe you should just listen to the song.”

Lauren could tell Tom had a hard time dividing his attention between her and the road when she felt the car swirl slightly. The movement only made her nervousness worse. She fumbled with the controls of her phone until she finally found the song. 

Neither of them said anything while the song played and they drove through the darkness. Only when the chorus played for the last time, Lauren somehow, somewhere found the courage to sing along. “Say my name and everything just stops. I don’t want you like a best friend. Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off.”

The silence that filled the car after the song stopped was deafening. It felt like the longest couple of minutes in in Lauren’s life. When she risked a glance at Tom, she could tell his grip on the steering wheel had tightened again and he was staring at the road ahead with a blank expression. 

“Are you not going to say anything?” Lauren eventually needed to know. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she needed a reaction from Tom, good or bad.

“I’m trying to find a spot to park this car.” For one fleeting moment Lauren was sure she had ruined everything. Tom was going to stop the car and throw her out. And then he continued, “Because I desperately want to kiss you right now, but I don’t think driving and kissing at the same time is a very good idea.”

And Lauren had never been more grateful than that moment that her superpower was having a fitting song lyric for every occasion. 

[on-a-lucky-tide]

If These Scars Could Speak

Full fic now finished on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24203062/chapters/58301596 [now with fanart].

Chapter 1: Family Feuds

Mum (4:20 PM): He doesn’t mean it, Julian. You know what your father’s like.

Jaskier (4:21 PM) …

Jaskier types out several replies and then deletes them repeatedly. He sits in the empty courtyard of the college grounds and stares into the middle distance. Three hours ago his father discovered that he was at risk of being kicked out of university; the conversation hadn’t been a pleasant one. Tempers frayed. Cruel words were exchanged. Mainly from Pankratz Senior’s end, even though Jaskier could hold his own after all these years of scathing dismissals and savage rebukes. His mother - beautiful, innocent soul - was now stuck in the middle of a feud between her husband and son. A feud that was as old as Jaskier himself. Or so it felt like. She didn’t deserve this.

So, Jaskier unlocks his phone again and reopens the message.

Jaskier (4:32 PM): I know, Mum. Don’t worry. I won’t drop out.

Mum (4:38 PM): I love you, Jules. Remember to use the FaceTime with me on Sunday. I miss you. xXx

Jaskier smiles and presses a kiss to his phone screen, because he misses her too. He hasn’t been home since the summer and it’s now late January. Even then, it had been a fraught six weeks with Jaskier and his father being repeatedly under each other’s feet. The arguments had, at times, almost become physical. It was a relief to return to Cambridge in September, even if Jaskier now had to face the possibility that his extremely expensive private education could potentially come to nought. He blamed it on the degree. Politics and International Relations. His father’s idea, of course. The foreign diplomat who wanted his son to follow in his footsteps. 

Jaskier’s entire future had been mapped from the very beginning. His entire career. Even who he should marry if murmurings behind closed doors were to be believed. A life as a civil servant. Two and a half kids. Nice mid-victorian detached house, with high stone walls to keep the riff-raff out, and a hound called Biffer. Fuck that. Jaskier was going to do his time, shove his guitar in its case and then travel the world. Not as an emissary though. An aid worker and a singer. Volunteer work, dreadlocks and copious amounts of weed lay in his future. Just needed to pass this damned degree.

He rises to his feet and grabs his bag to head back into his dormitory. He promised Triss they would meet for pre-drinks before. They were going to the ADC Theatre to watch the Footlights. Triss was trying to convince Jaskier to join - “You’re so talented, Jas! You’d be so-o-o good.” - but how could Jaskier measure up to the likes of Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie? Former Footlights members went on to rule the media world. He enters the foyer of his housing block, huffs a deep sigh and forces a smile onto his face.

When he steps into Triss’ room, already crammed with at least fifteen other people, he’s greeted with a roar of welcome and a lukewarm can of Fosters is pushed into his hand. It’s going to be a good night.

***

“Your dad is going to kill you.” Triss giggles as she looks at Jaskier’s options form. Because of his lacklustre academic record, the university had asked him to take another module. The good news? The options were broad. They didn’t care what it was. He just needed to pass. So, obviously, the module called ‘Love and Conflict: An examination of poetic constructs through the ages’ was the default choice. Besides, Triss is halfway through her medicine degree and she’s decided to take it with him, because she obviously doesn’t have enough work to do. These ambitious, hard-working types baffle Jaskier so very thoroughly.

Jaskier grins. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him - or me, as you have quite rightly pointed out,” he pauses, then folds the form carefully and tucks it into his pocket. “I just need to pass this fucking degree. Besides, I’ve heard the Professor’s PhD student is quite a dish.”

Triss facepalms. “Jas. Seriously? You’ve opted to take a module because the assistant is meant to be hot,” she pauses and squints into the middle distance, sipping at the can of diet coke in her hand as she does. “Wait, wait! I think I know who you mean.” She places a hand over her mouth and then grabs his shoulder. “Tall, dark and handsome, but has a scar running down the right side of his face. Apparently he’s ex-special forces. Yes, yes, yes. When we did plastic and reconstructive surgery, he came in and gave a talk about all the procedures, how he was injured, and recovery. He was - yes, well. Don’t go trying to flirt your way to a good grade.”

Jaskier looks wounded, hand placed over his chest, mouth agape in theatrical shock. “Me? Flirt? How very, very dare you. I shall pass this module using my natural wits and intelligence, thank you very much.”

Triss laughs and wraps an arm around his shoulders to give him a squeeze. He likes Triss. He likes her a lot. They met at the orchestral society on campus - she played the violin and, predictably, was fantastic at it - and they had struck up a friendship based, initially, on laughing at how serious everyone else was about it all. They’d decided to drop out of the society in favour of less stringent pursuits, but their friendship had held fast. Her bright red hair, her dash of freckles and her hazel eyes gave her the appearance of someone who was permanently, irrevocably happy. Life was good to Triss, and she was determined to give it her all in return.

She’s also very - annoyingly - perceptive, and leaves her arm in place. “You’ve had another argument recently, haven’t you?”

“Just a little one,” Jaskier smiles, big and bright, but it doesn’t fool her. She raises her eyebrows, and he’s forced to come clean. “Yeah. It was pretty big. Phrases like ‘don’t bother coming home’ and ‘you’re no son of mine’. Big stuff. I don’t really give a shit, but I wish he wouldn’t scream it loud enough down the phone for mum to hear.”

“He sounds like such a prick,” she murmurs, then glances at him apologetically. “I mean, I know he’s your dad…”

“Oh, no, he’s a prick. World class. If there were an olympic games dedicated to being an asshole, he’d top the medal table every time,” he nudges his head against her shoulder. “Still can’t convince you to come home for dinner and let me pretend I’ve managed to bag myself a highly intelligent girlfriend with loads of prospects?”

She pulls a face, but presses a kiss to his cheek. “You know full well I’m not your type, and, while you’re gorgeous, you’re not mine either,” she leaves the bench now and shoulders her bag; she has a lecture on biomechanics and it starts in fifteen minutes. “You still up for the party tonight? Streggie says it’s BYOB.”

“Does he really have to use his D&D name? I mean, it’s embarrassing enough.” Jaskier pulls a face right back, overdramatic and warped, Triss laughs. “Fine, yeah. I’ll be there. I can totally make a nine o’clock lecture and stay awake through it. Especially if this PhD student is as good looking as everyone says.”

***

Jaskier sprints down the hallway in search of the lecture theatre, ends up at the wrong end of the damn building and has to backtrack. He’s fifteen whole minutes late. The party had been good. The company had been better. Waking up under two very attractive people, one of which really did have the nicest cock he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing , had been very pleasant. Except when his silenced alarm blared at him. With 8.45am on the clock. Fuck. Right. Found it. He tests the door handle, gives it a wiggle and then stumbles through. Loudly. The lecture theatre was packed, and he trips down the first few steps, and finds a seat at the very edge. The girl next to him grumbles and kicks her bag onto the floor.

The professor is in full swing. Fuck. What’s the poem? He did an English Literature A Level, but that all feels like a distant memory after a year and a half at university. Oh, Sonnet 18. He knows this one. Right, Mac out. Onto Moodle. Get the notes. Fuck. Wifi’s not working. It’s at this point that a large hand places a small pack of notes right next to his own. It appears so suddenly out of nowhere that he startles and the girl next to him huffs irritably again. Jaskier looks up with wide eyes into a handsome face framed in a mess of black hair; there’s a scar knotted through the corner of his lip on the right side, only visible as he turns and Jaskier can see that it travels all the way up past his right eye. 

The PhD student. 

The scar is quite something , but somehow not distracting. Older than Jaskier expected. Maybe late thirties, early forties at the most, with shoulders you could just hang off and a chest that challenges his smartly pressed button-down shirt. His eyes are the most intense hazel that Jaskier has ever seen, the colour of honey, with flecks of green at the edges. He’s so entranced, that when the man speaks, he startles again.

“You’re late.”

His voice is low and it carries down the row of people next to him; Jaskier is inspected by a number of disgruntled faces that all glance his way. But he doesn’t notice, because that voice had just settled so far inside his chest that it’s still rumbling away like distant thunder. The sheer presence of the man. Just being near him felt like sinking into a warm bath. Jaskier swallows, and stumbles through an apology. “Yes, sorry, I - uh - I got lost.”

“He notices. Don’t be late again,” he dismisses the excuse out of hand, and then glances at Jaskier’s laptop. “The password is different.” He extends a hand to ask permission and Jaskier gestures at the machine with open palms. Instead of picking the laptop up, he leans over and Jaskier’s nose is suddenly filled with the scent of his aftershave; it’s musky, and warm, and Jaskier tries to cover another quick sniff with a sigh. Holy fuck . 

“Done. He doesn’t record his lectures,” the assistant growls again. “If you’re late, you miss it. I only print out a handful of his slides, so you’re lucky no one else arrived late before you.” And with that, he was walking down the aisle, glancing at a few students who had surreptitiously opened Instagram; he even stopped right beside one and folded their laptop down. Usually they didn’t care as long as your ass was in a seat. The student turns to protest - entitled and bratty as most nineteen year olds are - locks eyes with the bear of a man and mumbles through an apology.

Jaskier is still staring at that broad back with an open mouth when he catches Triss’ eye. She’s halfway down the lecture theatre and looking back at him with a cheeky glint in her eye, mouth open in an amused, knowing smile. He gives her a sassy flutter of the hand and gathers the notes towards him. The names of the two teachers are on the front. Professor Gerald Daniels and… Eskel Cirillo. Eskel. That is… unusual. But then, Jaskier goes by a name he adopted in private school when he and his buddies thought it’d be funny to learn Polish so they could talk openly about smuggling alcohol and weed onto campus without worrying about the teachers noticing. And, of course, they’d all adopted code names.

***

“His name’s Eskel, ” Jaskier says before sipping at the beer in his hands. He and Triss met up for lunch, as they usually did, and obviously it was gone 12 o’clock, so alcohol was on the cards. “What kinda’ name is that?”

“Not his real one. His real one is Esben Kelepios Cirillo,” she smirks, smug that she had managed to conduct such swift reconnaissance. “His mother is a Greek national, his father is English.”

“How? How do you know this?”

She flushes and looks slightly ashamed. “I may have dug out his medical records and had a little peek.” She flinches. “Please don’t tell anyone. I’d be in so much trouble, but I saw the way you were staring at him, and I got a little bit excited.”

“I was not staring. I was - he told me off, I was glaring. I was glaring at him. This isn’t secondary school. I’m not some wayward teen late for my A Level English class.”

“You are nineteen until June. So, technically - .”

“Ssshh. Just because you’re an old lady.”

She gasps in mock offence. Triss has been studying for five years; she’s twenty-three, so hardly classed as old. “Well, I see someone is feeling a little stroppy today.”

“I don’t suppose you saw how old he is, did you?” Jaskier casts her a quick sideways glance. Age isn’t usually a problem for him. The oldest woman he’s bedded must have been nudging her mid-forties. She was one seriously hot cougar though, and he’d never been ridden like that since. 

“Thirty-eight. He was medically discharged from the army four years ago,” she pauses, and fiddles with her drink bottle. “It’s - I can’t really tell you too much, sorry Jas. It’s - it would be unfair.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I understand.” He reaches across and ruffles her hair, before returning to his drink. “I’ll just have to ask myself. Won’t I?”

[laszlowrobinson]

A playlist that your character would actually listen to

It didn’t say to describe why they would listen to these songs, but I did it anyway because while idk anything about music I like to rave about it lmao

Spice Up Your Life - Spice Girls 

I mean the Spice Girls were and still are iconic spelled to sound like eye-con-eek. They were a good chunk of his childhood to adolescence since they WERE the 90′s. So not only is their music just, you know, great, it holds a very nostalgic place in his heart. I mean he for sure watched Spice World and didn’t give a single shit that it makes no sense. It didn’t need to, it was the Spice Girls hanging with aliens and chilling out on the bus in their iconic fashion. Anyone in that movie he will reference as their character from that instead of like oh Hugh Laurie from House MD? NO, it’s Hugh Laurie, Poritot from Spice World. Oh Stephen Fry? From Gosford Par? NO, it’s Stephen Fry, the Judge from Spice World. 

Anyways, while he would and does put their entire discography on, I’m putting this one in particular because it’s such a bop!! And their anthem. When the bitches were back for the 2012 Olympics, while they may have opened with Wannabe with choreography, (except Victoria who literally stood there Posing, the icon) they really went in with Spice Up Your Life okay, they rode around that stadium ON the cabs while singing it!!! It’s 100% the song that will pick him up off the floor. 

LA DI DA - EVERGLOW

What a song??? Holy SHIT. It may be only like a month old in its life span but it Hits, so it gets a spot on this playlist because as soon as I heard it I was like, “Laszlo would be obsessed.” It’s a bop, it’s a jam, it’s everything he could ever ask for in a song. First off, the production on it is just so good!!! The beats HIT and the clapping behind their vocals picks it up to another level. And that part where they like lmfao aggressively grunt?? after “Everglow forever let’s go.” amazing, brilliant, stunning, absolutely the best thing he has ever heard before. And then the VOCALS!!! The talent!!!! Like the range between all the girls is astounding, and I don’t just mean their vocal range. I mean ALL of it, the singing, the rapping, the power and then pulling it back for the softness until they come back to make heads bop for the chorus. Whew!!! Just such a good, pump up song that he can bop around too and that’s his favorite kind of music!! 

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) - ABBA but the Cher Cover 

No disrespect to ABBA because Laszlo loves them, but he looooves Cher and while he would ALSO play her entire discography, this song just hits different sung by Cher in 2018 in her beautiful, earthy voice. And she did it so tastefully. She respected the original song by not turning it over into something completely lost to the track but it still felt like she was putting her own magical Cher-y blessing upon it as if it were her very own song. It’s like the perfect crossover??? He probably had an out of body experience listening to her cover album of ABBA and then going to see her in Mama Mia! 2. Plus, like, this song is also his life lmfaooooo where is his man,,, @ god (who is Cher, as confirmed on Will and Grace.) 

I Know A Place - MUNA

Not only is this song just...so good...but the lyrics of it really hit home for him. Like??? “Don’t you be afraid of love and affection/ just lay down your weapon”??? ow bitch. But it is a celebratory song!!! It’s about being able to be whoever you are and not having to worry about getting hurt or dealing with the bleeeh people of the world because they’re going to a place that’s safe and accepting, and that’s in LGBT+ spaces. And there are a lot of people who don’t feel safe and who are having to hide themselves, but this song is providing them a little slice of heaven to be themselves. It also serves as a reminder that there are places were you can be safe and happy and yourself and you will be accepted!!! And that’s just such a lovely message, and for music like this to be out there in the world for the youth makes him so happy! And the music itself is so funky and absolutely something that one can dance to. It has those places that slow down...and then HIT for the bopping around for the hype of the chorus!! UGH! and Katie’s voice still being sort of haunting really just brings it on home. This song is so good!! Stream MUNA!!!!! 

Paparazzi - Lady Gaga (TW: fake blood from 3:20-end of the video) 

I’m linking the 2009 MTV performance because I’m going to say that this was his first exposure to Lady Gaga and holy shit was it life changing!!! This was everything. Like the performance art of it really came for his throat. Spoiler alert: when the blood started pouring from her chest and the crowd like gasped and groaned??? It was a Cultural Reset!! She was singing her heart out and going all out on that choreography. Her foot up on the piano as she slammed the keys??? The set design?? SO GOOD! And her dancers? Shout out to them, because damn they really did that. So, not only is the song amazing, he will always associate it with hearing it to this performance and it is still such a good song!!! The lyrics are insane. She did this when she was 23, only a year older than him, and boy did it light a fire under his ass. 

And it also serves to keep him humble lmfao. Even though he isn’t Famous famous like his other family members he does have his own little corner of fame and can’t be out here falling in love with the attention. 

Coisa Boa - Gloria Groove

Honestly, anything Gloria Groove puts out is pure gold to his ears. They don’t have to go as hard as they do, but they do it anyways! The really pronounced instrument that’s going on? Their singing??? Going from rapping to hitting that note at the end of “Quer papo de ousadia?” absolutely sends Laszlo off the rails. Like, there’s no other way to describe their style than Iconic. It’s fun and fighty and gah! So good!! Also it just being about getting the Squad and going ham is just, chef kisses. Again, his favorite songs are things that get him moving and grooving, and this ones ticks all the marks and so much more. One day they will release an album and on that day someone should check to make sure Laszlo is still alive. 

Toxic - Brittany Spears

I mean what is there to say. The song is iconic, it came out when he was like 17. It was everything and still holds up today. The production on it still just boggles the mind. That like eeeeee sound??? The spy music break in the middle of it?? And the video!!! Art. The fact that she did the back handspring during the laser bit really just made him go insane. Cultural reset from the pop queen of the time. Turned him into a bigger Britney fan. Everything about it is so good. Another nostalgic one, but !! it still holds up baby!! If this is played he is legally required to perform. 

El Mambo - Mon Laferte

Her voice is just?? out of this world. Laszlo is a huuuge fan of everything she puts out but this one really just took him out. Like she can hit some powerful vocals and that’s what the beginning seems like they’re counting up to, but when she came out of the gate just rapping about this guy who needs to get over himself, woooowie. And then she comes back for that mambo sound in the chorus and her beautiful voice going In, ugh. UGH. It’s so good!!! She is amazing and the instruments on this one really highlight that as well as making it groovy enough to dance around to as we say goodbye to toxic men and their overwhelming jealousy!!

Too Little Too Late - JoJo

I’m linking to the 2018 version because JoJo re-releasing all her music so that she can get the cash money from HER music is...stunning, amazing, love her and love that for her. This song was yet another cultural reset. And you know what, she just got better. Her vocals kick ass and the lyrics are still just as good as they were when they first came out. That high register run she does toward the end??? Okay?? go off!!! Another song about a wonderful lady kicking a man out of her life and becoming better for it. also she JUST came out with a Christmas album so go stream it. 

Endless - Frank Ocean

Now this is the whole album because, honestly, that’s how it’s supposed to be listened to. There’s also the visual element that you’re supposed to watch while listening, but since that’s like no where to be found since Mr. Ocean’s people snatched it all up from the internet unless you want to buy it off Apple, this is all we get to work with. Which is fine, honestly. ANYWAYS, this whole album is just so beautiful. And no one really knows the full story behind where it came from or why Mr. Ocean made it, and that’s a whole over layer as to why Laszlo adores it!! Not only is the music stunning but the mystery surrounding it gives him life. Frank Ocean is another artist that he could press random on the entire discography and be happy with whatever decided to play, but THIS album is his favorite from the man. It may seem like the outtakes from Blonde but to Laszlo, they all feel intentional. It’s like peaking into a sketchbook versus the novel of Blonde, and that appeals to him!! There is a certain effort that needs to be put in to listen to it by finding it. So it’s that little bit of extra artistry that makes this album hit different than the others, plus the songs, though some very VERY short, are all GREAT. Every song has this sort of improv feeling almost? but feel effortless like all his other music. Some of them are really short, just snip bits of a song, but they don’t feel that way with how they flow together and cut one another off and it’s just a weird entity of music that feels fleeting and yet...endless. 

[mostweakhamlets]

*whispers* what is the jeeves thing pls explain

Listen 👏 up 👏

The Jeeves series is books and novels written by P.G Wodehouse. They take place in, I guess, the 1910-1920s even though I know there was a floating timeline so some are in the 70s when Wodehouse wrote them? I'm not sure. I haven't read those ones I'll be honest.

It's about this man, Bertie Wooster, who's part of the idle rich class in England. He doesn't do anything besides spend money and go to clubs and get into awful situations. His family is very wealthy, and he lives off his inheritance (we assume he's an orphan). He's super sweet, though. I cannot stress enough how much I love him. He's very selfless and will do anything to help anyone. He often gives away money without a second thought and listens to all of his friends' problems while promising to help. He's also very naive and gets scammed a few times, but I don't think he's physically capable of saying no. Which just leads to very absurd situations.

He's about 25, but this boy is an idiot. He cannot take care of himself. He sleeps until noon and doesn't know how to make tea.

That's where Jeeves comes in. He's Bertie's valet (a gentleman's gentleman (a servant that basically looks after the household and the individual)). He's the only smart character in the books. Bertie and his friends are constantly getting engaged and getting into trouble because of whoever they have a crush on this week (though iirc Bertie doesn't seem to fall in love as much as his aunts try arranging marriages for him). Jeeves is kinda a trickster character. He always has a plan for Bertie to get out of trouble, but he's also caused his own trouble from time to time for his own amusement. He's pretty loyal tho, and very dignified, and very stoic.

The character inspired Ask.com which used to be Askjeeves.com. "Jeeves" is also a colloquialism that people use when referring to a butler (though Jeeves wasn't a butler). The books had a big impact.

Then, there was a tv series made with Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry as Bertie and Jeeves respectably. It was as good as you'd expect Fry and Laurie to be when they're together. The cast did change quit a bit, and some of the other characters aren't as fun as Bertie and Jeeves. There's also some seasons that are set in America, and they do the whole "every American has a super harsh voice" thing which can be grating at times (especially if you're American and don't quite find it funny just bc that's not an ingrained part of our humor). It's worth watching, though! I've been watching it for the past couples days to cheer myself up.

The tv series also changes a few things about Bertie's character. Since Hugh Laurie is a musical genius, they have him play piano and sing a lot. It's a great addition to his character. It shows that he's not completely useless and gives him something to do rather than just sit around his apartment when the scenes are set there. It also leads to cute moments like Jeeves playing with him in a rare moment of softness. The dynamic between Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry is amazing. It kinda gives a different tone to the relationship. They're closer in age, and it feels like a friendship.

In the books, they're definitely friends but iirc Jeeves is a bit older. He's there to provide some stability to Bertie's life and imo he sort of takes on this caregiving role that Bertie doesn't have (his aunts are bossy and his parents are dead and his friends are all idiots as well). At the end of the day, Jeeves is there to clean up after the trouble and ensure that Bertie will have a hot breakfast in the morning.

[imtheeggman2]

1, 20 and 47 for the asks please 😌

Hello, thank you so much for these. 

1: Overall, I think I had a decent year. In certain moments I may have felt disheartened or slightly overwhelmed by my studies and growing up in general though. I am alive and well and still capable of complaining. All must be well in that case 😉

20: This one may take a while to answer....  Musically speaking I became enamoured with Carole King and the Divine Comedy. I had previously heard tracks such as “Where you Lead” and “Something for the weekend” in passing. I’m in love with these artists now though. I was aware that Bernard Butler was Suede’s original guitarist. I became properly hooked on his solo stuff over the course of this year. .... In literary terms, Olive Kitteridge ( not the HBO show- still haven’t got round watching that) is an incredible read. Even though the novel is set in Maine New England, I feel that Olive could be any overly inquisitive, impertinent neighbour residing in any corner of the globe. Disconcerting and comforting all at once.....Other obsessions I’ve simply reignited- I re-read and fell blindly in love with Cornelia Funke’s Inkheart trilogy (again). In the past few weeks I’ve also had an inexplicable hankering to re-read Jeeves and Wooster stories....This brings me to the topic of television and film. Followers of the blog may have noticed me excitedly posting that Jeeves and Wooster is on YouTube. It’s not at all “rummy” and I think anyone familiar with Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie will derive great pleasure from watching. I mean who couldn’t. 

47: make someone happy.

[hornyliverpudlianputz]

What are some TV shows that you highly recommend? (I love The Monkees, but they don't have to be similar to it) Thanks!

Hhhoooo boyyyyyy. Ok I’m going in completely blind here so I will take the shotgun approach. (Bless you anon, I love recommending things.) 

Classic comedies -

The Dick Van Dyke Show: an absolute comedy classic, and Rose Marie and Mary Tyler Moore are main characters! Is great! Can get a little sexist at times but honestly not as bad as it could have been. It’s in black and white and, as a product of the time, Van Dyke will frequently kiss his young son on the mouth in greeting. It is NOT sexual AT ALL but if that makes you uncomfortable, be warned.

I Love Lucy: duh. I mean do I even have to describe this one? Watch it, it’s great!

The Carol Burnett Show: another very funny lady. Their sketch parody of “Gone With The Wind” had me laughing so hard I was not physically producing sound any more.

Get Smart: a spy comedy from the 60s, The Monkees reference it a few times. Has some ridiculously funny catchphrases.

Hogan’s Heroes: set in a WWII POW camp in Germany, is basically a funny version of the howling commandos from Captain America. Again, sexist as a product of their time, but funny none the less. One of the first major sitcoms to have a main black character, and has a lot of behind-the-scenes epicness. Obviously, because of the setting, the main antagonists are Nazis, but I feel it’s important to point out that they are made to look incompetent at ever turn. (A lot of the main/reoccurring cast are either Jewish or come from Jewish families, and the actor who plays LeBeau is actually a Holocaust survivor. Trust me when I say the Nazis never win.)

MASH: you probably see me post about this a lot here besides The Monkees, I love this show. It’s very long, 11 seasons, and transforms over the course of it’s run from a slapstick comedy to a short drama with witty jokes. It’s set in a mobile medical unit during the Korean War so it can get pretty bloody and does not shy away from gallows humor. Is sexist at the beginning but it gets better, same with period typical racism towards Asians. (The guy who plays BJ, a main character, was a guest on The Monkees and I LOST MY SHIT.)

Monty Python’s Flying Circus: a British sketch comedy show from the 70s. These are the same people who do “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” and “Life of Brian” so they are very funny. Unfortunately a lot of it was political satire at the time so it has the tendency to go completely over our heads now, but still great. Other British sketch comedies I love include A Bit of Fry and Laurie with Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie and Not The Nine O’Clock News that has Rowen Atkinson.

Classic dramas - 

Dragnet: I haven’t had a huge opportunity to watch a lot of this, but it’s an old police procedural that actually started as a radio drama. It’s a bit stiff, but it’s NOT as bad as Ben Casey so I’d give it a try.

Star Trek: classic 60s, you had to have seen this coming. Horrifically cheesy special effects, costumes, acting, and music, but man has it got heart. Please do also check out all of the other Star Treks.

Columbo: this is an epic police procedural that turns the typical formula on it’s head; the audience follows the murderer rather than the detective. Basically we watch the lead-up to the crime, usually the crime itself, and then we watch Detective Columbo come in and destroy the criminal piece by piece. It’s great and Peter Falk is a national treasure. Suffers from “black people don’t exists” 70s syndrome, but is basically about rich white people killing each other because they have too much time on their hands so like. Yeah.

More recent shows that are no longer running -

The West Wing: listen. This show is one of the only dramas to effectively work really good comedy writing into itself. It will also teach you about American politics and you won’t mind. I sat down to start this show thinking I would watch one episode to give it a try and then go to bed. I watched 3 in a row. Also Martin Sheen I mean come on.

Psych: very funny crime show about an adult child with daddy issues and his fiscally responsible best friend solving crimes by pretending to be psychic because the police wouldn’t believe he has hyperobservational skills. Has great character development and does not take itself seriously at all. Great show.

Leverage: do you like heists? Well this show does a heist an episode. Basically it’s a team of specialized criminals that work together to Robin Hood it up as they learn to love each other as family. What’s not to love.

Due South: again, I have had little opportunity to actually watch this, but it’s about a Canadian Mountie working with the Chicago PD. Hijinks ensue. Also apparently ghosts get involved later? Can’t wait.

Teen Wolf: ok so like. This is closer to brain candy than Really Great Writing but. The main cast is solid and it’s a fun supernatural drama. I did a rant post at one point about the super good background queer rep so you know. Also Dylan O’Brien.

Black Sails: a show combining fictional pirate characters from “Treasure Island” with real historical pirates while events that set up “Treasure Island” occur. It is extremely full on, expect nudity, violence, rape, flashbacks, and swearing. However it handles these issues well, and gets aggressively more queer as the show goes on. Also the ladies kick ass.

Scrubs: it didn’t age super well, and we don’t talk about the last season, but this is a very funny medical comedy that is sort of the inverse of The West Wing in terms of writing; this is a comedy that does dramatic writing really well. It’s in a hospital though so like, gross and sad things happen sometimes.

Shows that are currently airing -

Letterkenny: I post about this occasionally here, it’s a very funny Canadian comedy about a small rural town. The dialogue can be difficult to follow because it uses a lot of Canadian slang and is very quick fire, but it’s hilarious. Has the benefit of not only including Native characters, but actually casting Native actors in those roles. Has the most creative swearing I have ever witnessed and it is glorious to behold. Is getting progressively more queer. Also, while sexy fun times are talked about, thus far there is absolutely no PDA, not even kissing, on screen which, as an aroace, is nice.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine: a cop comedy. Racially and sexually diverse, is still holding up after 5 seasons. Has the distinction of not going down hill after acting on romantic tension between main characters. Brilliantly satirical writing and will call absolutely anyone out.

BoJack Horseman: extremely dark Netflix animated comedy. It covers a lot of intense subjects like depression, substance abuse, emotional abuse, and self-loathing, but it explores them in a really well-written way. Has the distinction of making one of the main characters (Todd) realize he is ace over the course of the series, and it is the best damn ace rep I have ever seen. Suffers from a fanbase of dudebros who try to use the main character to excuse their actions, but literally called itself out for this in the latest season. Epic.

Archer: an animated comedy about a spy organization that is made up of people who cannot work together because they are awful and selfish. Is hysterically funny but quite raunchy and hints at larger issues, like alcoholism and emotional abuse. But again, dark comedy.

That’s all I’ve got anon, and if anyone has recommendations for me hmu!

[gentleoverdrive]

(86/?) Fault & Fracture

Can we stop treating social media as though it were real life? It's fine to interact with social media (to a degree) and with people through it and only through there, but like holy fuckles: Take a breather and realize it, you guys. ---- Like I get that, for a ton of peeps, that social media is basically IT when it comes to social interactions, and I'm not gonna say "go out and touch grass", because that's not the solution. But, like... it's not complicated. The thing with Will Smith and Chris Rock was weird in how people reacted because it led to a lot of people showing their asses harder than anything Smith did that night, for example. ---- And again, I know that for many (for many of my friends, it's basically how we keep up with each other), social media is all they have due to varying sets of circumstances, but do you understand how curated things are on the internet? It's always going to be this hybrid of "Please see this chunk of my personality to which I have heavily invested myself in" and your perception, but it's only part of a reality, not the whole thing. ---- For example, I am a dork who loves his daughter and wife very much, and tons of people have never seen the "dork-ass dad/husband" side of me. Hell, it's even in the way I speak/write English: If you noticed, I have a very idiosyncratic way of writing English due to the fact that, while it is my actual first language, I was raised speaking English and Spanish simultaneously from age 6 on, with bits and pieces of British culture because my mother was obsessed with Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie (and yes, my mom was a huge Dr. House fan). ---- So no matter how much I've studied and read on stuff and how well I educate myself and try to give myself an air of propriety, if I am not in a professional situation of some sort (or putting up a front) the goofy mix of proper English and almost Spanglish-like language crutches start rearing their heads when I feel the slightest bit comfortable. ---- So yeah, always try to tackle things you see in social media with a grain of salt or, like many people who have no media literacy, you're gonna end up with more stress than what is really warranted. See ya' tomorrow, whoever reads this!

[avanneman]

The Code of the Woosters

The 23 episodes of “Jeeves and Wooster”, a British TV series starring Stephen Fry as Jeeves and a young Hugh Laurie as Bertie Wooster that ran from 1990 to 1993, are now available via YouTube. If you don’t know who Jeeves and Bertie are, you probably won’t enjoy the series. If you do know, you’re almost sure to have quibbles.

Jeeves, indispensable personal manservant, and his employer, mentally negligible man about town Bertie Wooster, were the supreme creations of P. G. Wodehouse (pronounced “Woodhouse”), the most gifted (to my mind) author of light fiction who ever lived. George Orwell, who wrote an intelligent though ultimately too generous discussion of Wodehouse, explained to ignorant Americans that Bertie was a pre-World War I Edwardian “knut”, a languid, yet somehow charming fellow whose general incompetence somehow makes it appropriate that he should have more money than he can spend.

The fact that a lot of Bertie Woosters got slaughtered in the trenches of World War I somehow did not decrease the market for Wodehouse’s fiction. Wodehouse, who always looked rather determinedly on the bright side of life, at least in public, shrewdly guessed that a lot of people would prefer to pretend that the Great War never happened, and so made the world of the knut even more extravagantly self-indulgent and unreal than it had been in the balmy days when King Edward was still alive,1 creating a world of young men in spats, white flannels and cucumber sandwiches, smart flats and country homes, heiresses and French maids, all of them pure as the driven snow—for Wodehouse’s world is as innocent as the real one is wicked.

What makes Wodehouse worth reading is the wonderful dexterity of both his language and his plots—“musical comedy without the music,” he liked to call it, although few musicals could match the twists and turns of his absurdist plots where everything is first turned upside down—very often due to Bertie’s blundering—and then flipped rightside up again thanks to Jeeves’ brilliance.2 Wodehouse drew heavily on the tradition of Gilbert and Sullivan for both his plots and language, translating them onto the written page. He had a wonderful ability to mix the clichés of formal and colloquial English—ponderous “Establishment English” and English “public school”3 slang, in particular—turning them inside out or leaving them rightside in while placing them in incongruous surroundings, shifting constantly from outrageous overstatement to similarly outrageous understatement within a single sentence.4

When I first saw the Jeeves and Wooster episodes I was disappointed that every line of Wodehouse’s superb verbal stunting wasn’t faithfully replicated on the screen—absurd, no doubt, but, as Bertie would say, there it is. After almost thirty years to collect my thoughts, I find that, so far, my original judgment was a bit harsh. Stephen Fry makes an excellent Jeeves, though there’s often an ironic tone to his supposedly respectful responses to Bertie’s inanities—as though Fry feels the need to let us know that Jeeves knows how stupid Bertie is—which strikes me as lazy and self-indulgent. The real Jeeves, one feels, would be above the need to signal his superiority.

Laurie’s Bertie Wooster is more of a mixed bag. In the first scenes of the first episode, Laurie engages in some horrible mugging, intended to let us know that Bertie’s suffering from a hangover, but if the plot didn’t make that clear, we’d never have guessed. Eventually. Laurie improves, and physically he makes an excellent Wooster, his tall, spindly, eccentric frame making even the most elegant outfit look somewhat ridiculous, and thus serving to ridicule rather than distinguish its wearer.

The trappings of twenties and thirties elegance are very well done, but the Brits, of course, never tire of this. British studios must have roundhouses of puffing locomotives, garages bursting with antique sports cars, taxis, and limos, not to mention immaculately maintained country homes and smart flats. The theme music, a sort of palm court jazz, if that isn’t too rude a term, is quite catchy as well.

The attempts to “open up” Wodehouse’s world are another matter, and an area where devotees are likely to quibble. The series takes us inside Bertie’s “Drones Club,” but the members are depicted as emotionally stunted six-year-olds, while I always envisioned them as emotionally stunted thirteen-year-olds. I ended up bailing on the series back in the nineties for its lack of “respect” for Wodehouse, but if I persevere through the whole thing this time around I may be more forgiving.

Afterwords In the “real” twenties, knuts were better known as upper-class twits or “Bright Young Things.” The current British series The Windsors does a better job taking down the modern-day upper-class twit, because The Windsors deals with shagging and snorting as well as cigarettes and liquor, which are the only sins permitted in Jeeves and Wooster, though The Windsors still keeps it light. For a grimmer touch, you can find a TV adaptation of Evelyn Waugh’s Decline and Fall, in which all the Bright Young Things are damned to Hell—or at least would be if Evelyn had his way. Variations on these themes can also be found on the once legendary Upstairs Downstairs series, which you can get on Amazon, if not elsewhere, as well as the execrable Downton Abbey—execrable if not indeed damnable—which I ridiculed both here and here.

Back in his heyday, between the two big wars, Wodehouse was the beloved pet of virtually every English writer, from Orwell on the left to T. S. Eliot (officially an American, of course,5) on the right, first because he was so funny and second because he offered no competition to them, despite writing of a world that they all knew never existed.6 The Wodehouse cult endured a great crisis in the early days of World War II when Wodehouse and his wife, enjoying an extended vacation in France, managed to get themselves captured by the German army. They were interned as enemy civilians, and Wodehouse agreed to make a few radio broadcasts for the Germans, in which he explained that his hosts, once you got to know them, proved to be rather jolly chaps in the whole. This naturally enraged the British population, who regarded Wodehouse as nothing less than a traitor.

The intelligentsia can always love an outcast—some more than others, of course—and Wodehouse admirers like Orwell rallied round in an excessive manner, rushing to “explain” that Wodehouse was a political naïf who knew not what he did. I think one can wonder about that. Wodehouse was quite a wealthy man—rarely the mark of a naïf in the first place—and many wealthy people on the eve of World War II feared that a “long war” would inevitably lead to crushing taxation and endless governmental regulation of every aspect of society no matter who “won”. Better to have the whole thing settled and done with, so that, hopefully, we could somehow find our way back to “normality”. Far more illustrious men than Wodehouse—Picasso, Matisse, and Andrè Gide, for example—were willing to make their peace with the Nazis. One must learn to accept that which one cannot change, after all.

Edward VII, who reigned from 1901 until 1911, was the figurehead monarch of a society that was moving rapidly towards civil war (over the question of “Home Rule” for Ireland) when an even greater external crisis intervened. Great Britain, as it then was generally called, was spared a civil war at the expense of about 600,000 dead and an equal number of wounded. On the one hand, there was almost nothing that Edward could do to prevent the smashup. On the other, there was almost nothing he did do to prevent the smashup. ↩︎

Eighteenth century literature featured many plots where, as Orwell (again) put it, the elements fit together like the teeth of a zipper, but the real classic that prefigures Wodehouse is Beaumarchais’ Marriage of Figaro, far better known in the U.S. via Mozart’s opera. Wodehouse no doubt got the idea from Gilbert and Sullivan rather than the “original”. ↩︎

English “public schools” are what we would call private schools. Wodehouse was immensely happy at his school—confusingly known as “Dulwich College”. It isn’t hard to guess from his work that he found the idea of an all-male society revolving largely around sports and adolescent hijinks immensely appealing. ↩︎

Wodehouse came from a seriously “colonial” family, and according to Wikipedia was raised for the first two years of his life by a Chinese nurse. I’ve read (somewhere) that the historian Edward Gibbon was cared for in his first years by a French nurse, and William F. Buckley was initially raised by a Spanish one. Not being exposed to your “native language” from birth can perhaps lead certain spirits to experience language as “naturally” artificial. ↩︎

Wherever he went, Eliot liked thinking of himself as a “metic” (Greek for “resident alien”)—St. Augustine’s notion of the proper role of a Christian while here on earth. I once read an interesting biography of Eliot that collected the opening remarks of addresses he gave, largely in the U.S. and the U.K., in which he would politely but firmly explain to his audience that he was not one of them. ↩︎

Not every writer adored Wodehouse. It’s typical of writers, regardless of background, to think of themselves as aristocrats and identify with the aristocracy, but some British writers, raised in the “Dissenting” tradition, hate everything about the whole country house fantasy. The fact that Wodehouse created a sort of “Disney version” made it no more palatable. ↩︎

[cuddyclothes]

Snowflake Challenge #3

In  your own space, tell us who, from one of your fandoms, would you most want to have dinner with (or tea, or a random afternoon visit), And why?  This could be a creator, an actor, a costumer, a set designer, a   director, a character, a composer, anybody! What would you talk about?   What are you dying to know? Leave a comment in this post saying you did it. Include a link to your post if you feel comfortable doing so. This is a tough one!! I pretty much want to have dinner with any of creatives, especially the writers. I'm fascinated by the writing process on a network show. It's so much more complicated and restrictive than most fans know. From Supernatural I would like to have dinner with Robert Berens, or Ben Edlund. Berens wrote unusual episodes and was one of the best at writing emotional depth between characters. his episode "The Vessel" is a great episode in every way, even though the season arc was weak. Edlund wrote several of my favorite early episodes, including  "Ghostfacers", and "Monster Movie". He also created "The Tick" which is a great goofy concept. It must be obvious I would love to spend an afternoon with Stephen Fry!! It's a desire I have across any and all fandoms, including ones I'm not a member of! My other choice would be Robert Sean Leonard. I'm closer in age to Hugh Laurie, but RSL is so droll and smart. We could be bitchy about people together. I want to play touch football with Jared Padalecki...just the two of us. With a long steam sauna and naked swim afterward.

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Part 3 (Mycroft Holmes x Reader)

AN- Thank you for the patience for this one! My little boy has been unwell so it has taken a little longer than I had hoped but here is the third instalment! It’s a little shorter than the others but that’s because I wanted to contain the angsty part in one chapter, the next ones will hopefully be longer..

This one is a little more angsty, a lot more emotional, but I’m quite happy with the outcome and I hope you are too! As usual, please let me know any thoughts/feedback! And enjoy!

Word Count: 2510

"Is it just me that finds Stephen Fry a bit.. sexy?" You spoke, watching the television as Young Ones' Scumbag College competed on University Challenge. "I don't know what it is about him. He's just.. got such a lovely voice, and he's so sodding clever and his CLOTHES- got much better looking with age, mind." Mycroft only hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"Hmm.. He's not really my type." You laughed and petted his head fondly.

"You don't have to be gay to find another man attractive Myc." You mused. "Me and Greg talk about it all the time, though he fancies Hugh Laurie more, especially in Blackadder." You laughed, thinking back on the memory of Greg's fondness of George in the Blackadder Goes Forth series.

"I'm aware that sexuality and attraction are not the same, Y/N. I am comfortable enough in my own heterosexuality to appreciate another man's features. In fact, I very much agree with Gregory's view on Mr Laurie. Stephen, however, is not my type. The few people that did speak to me in University used to tell me I reminded them of him in the way I behaved but, and I quote, 'without even a lick of his humour, you miserable bastard.' Thus, I cannot look at him in that way." He laughed a little and you cleared your throat.

"Oh.. uh, yeah I guess that makes sense. Not the humour part though, you're actually hilarious and they missed out big time." You tried to avoid the point where you'd deemed Stephen Fry sexy in every way he was similar to the man who was laying in your lap, and just hoped he wouldn't bring that up.

"He definitely got the looks side of things though, particularly as General Melchett in Goes Forth, though I am not particularly fond of the facial hair." He screwed up his nose in distaste, you fighting every ounce of your control to not say he looked a bit cute. "And certainly didn't have the waistline that 21 year old Mycroft had."

"Speaking in the third person now, are we? Well, Mycroft, Y/N is comfortable enough in her friendship that Y/N thinks Mycroft can be sexy in his own ways too." You teased, partly embarrassed, but equally just trying any way to improve the man's confidence, even by a little. Mycroft choked a little on his own saliva and had to sit up to regain his own breath. Too far? "Sorry." He shook his head 'no' but didn't speak. In his moments of regaining his composure, Mycroft watched you. Processed in his head what you had said- 'was it a joke?', he couldn't read anything on you that would suggest that, though his eyes were glassy from the choking- watched as you panicked, then subsiding the panic to concern as you made sure he was okay. All these things, he thought, he didn't deserve. He took a deep breath and reached for the television remote, pausing the show and settling back on the other side of the sofa. It had to be done now. Done while his brain was allowing it, before he got attached... before he got attached even more. He couldn't keep pretending it was okay, keep accepting your compliments and your kindness, couldn't allow himself to go any further in his.. attraction?

It was always unspoken between the two of you- your not so subtle hints to Mycroft over the last few years hadn't got unnoticed, Mycroft would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he felt the same way, though this was perhaps the most open you had been; he would always put it off, try to think of reasons why you shouldn't be more than whatever you are now- most of the time it circles back to work, your busy schedule at the Yard and his unpredictable working hours mostly, saying to himself that it would simply be pointless, that you wouldn't see each other. But he knew that was a lie- you see him as often as you can, even if it's just for an hour on lunch, and everyone knows he would do his best to move empires to have you over for dinner had it been a while, quite literally actually.

Then there was age, you were in your mid-to-late twenties, he in his forties, though that argument also fell flat after you had mentioned your last long term relationship had been with a man your elder, amongst many of your interests in celebrity males that you had mentioned being closer to his age than yours- and, on his behalf, it was usual for a Politician to walk into formal dinners with a younger woman on arm. In the end, it all went back to the real reason Mycroft put everything off, a reason he hated admitting to even himself. Mycroft was scared.

Having been the age he is with no sexual experience, no previous relationships, and not even many friendships, he was terrified he would humiliate himself and you would leave him completely. You were both adults, both clever, you both knew there was always 'something' there, but without you ever acting upon it, Mycroft decided to live his life keeping you as a friend rather than risk not having you at all. He felt guilty enough having you here anyway. He couldn't allow you to keep stroking his hair like that, or letting you sleep in his bed with him, hold him as he snored, when it was for completely other desires in his own mind, not without speaking to you. No, that wouldn't be fair- even if he didn't fully understand everything himself and was still incredibly scared. You needed to know the truth, about everything, and, if there were the slightest chance you'd forgive him, he had decided he couldn't wait any longer, couldn't put it off anymore, he wanted you to carry on doing those things, wanted to continue the nights you would stay in his bed. But Mycroft wanted it to change, he wanted to be able to start the night with a ghost of his hand on your hip, without waiting until you were asleep to bring himself to have that courage, to wake up next to you and not feel the awkward need to move so soon, just to stay a little longer. Christ, Mycroft wanted every cliché in the book with you, and it took him until yesterday to realise how much he wanted that, after nearly losing you. And he needed you to know, even if it risked it all.

"Y/N I-"

"I know, I'm sorry, I took it too far I was just messing about.. Not that I didn't mean it, I wasn't joking about you.. You are very attractive, but it was inappropriate.. I shouldn't have said it.. I just wanted to help.. though I don't think it did, might have made it worse, actually.. Didn't want to say anything and let you find out.. like that.. not that it matters.. because I AM happy JUST being your friend, over the moon, actually.. so I don't want you to think I ruined that... Because I know you don't feel.. like that.. and you're not saying anything which is scaring me a little because you're always talking.. Not that I don't like that.. I love you talking to me, you've got a lovely voice.. and.. and I'm going to shut up again.. sorry.. again.." You rambled, a lot, too much.. far too much. Mycroft tried to process everything, his eyes closing at every word. You were making this so much harder for him, admitting everything like that. Mycroft hunched forward in his position and braced his elbows on his knees, index and middle finger of each hand holding the weight of his head by his temples.

"No just.. Just stop talking for a moment." Mycroft snapped, cutting you off as your mouth opened to speak a little, the small jump back made his gaze soften. "Please." He spoke softer, apologetic. "I can't.. talk about that.. not yet. Not until you know.." You went to speak again but his head tilted, eyes containing a rare glaze of vulnerability, trying to stay in contact with your own but constantly dropping back to his lap- a silent plea to stay quiet, be patient and just give him a moment. And you did. Turning your body completely sideways, you crossed your legs on the sofa, hands resting folded in your lap as you encouraged him to continue with a brief nod of your head. "I fear if I don't tell you of yesterday's happenings in this very moment that I never shall, and that is far too selfish, even of me." He took a deep breath in. "But I just.. need a moment. A few, likely, throughout." You nodded your head again.

From there, Mycroft began to explain everything that had happened, told you of his sister, where she had taken him, Sherlock and John, what she spoke about, what she tried to get them to do. His voice cracked every so often, knuckles whitened as his fists clenches, creases formed in his trousers where he squeezed his hand on them, but you listened to every word and stayed silent- eyes welling with small tears. Mycroft spoke of the screen, told you of the snipers that were out there, targeting Ms Hudson and Molly. Your body stiffened as he added Lestrade to the list, feeling your throat tighten a little at the mere thought of losing Greg. Mycroft pressed on, told you about how Eurus tried to make Sherlock choose between him and John, told you how he'd tried to convince Sherlock to just shoot him, how Sherlock refused and threatened to shoot himself. His voice went breathless at the end of that, the idea of losing his brother so easily still fresh in his mind. You loosened your sitting position and leaned over, taking Mycroft's hand in your own and squeezing. He sighed again and closed his eyes.

"Please, don't." He whispered, trying to fold his hand into a fist to escape your embrace. You didn't let go and offered your other hand on his back in support as you watched a stray tear fall down his cheek. "I said don't!" He shouted, moving from your touch and standing up from the sofa, beginning to pace as his face contorted into more pain, another tear following the path of the last. You sat back, watched him, didn't take the anger to heart. "It was my fault! All of it!" He ran his hands through his hair and tugged, moving them after to wipe the droplets from his cheek.

"Myc it's ok-"

"It isn't okay Y/N! No part of any of this is even remotely close to okay!" He stilled now, posture going back rigid as he looked at you, eyes bloodshot and glassy. He told you of his Birthday present to Eurus- five unsupervised minutes with Moriarty- and started his pacing again. "A man died yesterday because of me. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly. They all almost died yesterday. You almost... you almost died yesterday." His breath hitched again, lip softly quivering at the end of his words. You tensed a little and frowned, confused and urging him to elaborate. "They weren't the only people on the screens, not the only ones with a red dot on their heads, Y/N." Gaze avoiding you now, turned completely to face the wall rather than look at you at all- giving him a chance to compose himself, steadying his voice. "I saw you, you were happy, just dancing and making tea, but at any moment you could have... and it would have been my fault. And I know I should have told you yesterday, it was selfish of me using you the way that I have without letting you know everything. You could have been gone before I could tell you everything, before I could explain how I feel about you, and it all came rushing to me the moment I saw your face on that screen. I’m so sorry, for everything, for ignoring everything, for being the reason you almost-" The last thing Mycroft had expected was the feeling of arms around his waist, the feeling of a head resting between his shoulder blades, soaking the shirt with tears. You sniffed, holding onto him tighter as you cried into his back.

"It's okay Mycroft." You spoke, voice croaking from tears. "They're okay.. I'm okay. And you're going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere." The relief Mycroft felt from your words ran through his body as he slumped a little, left hand holding on to where yours joined on his stomach, his right lifting to his eyes where, in a very rare moment, he allowed himself to weep.

***

Neither of you were too sure on how long you stayed like that, Mycroft being held in your arms as he quietly cried into his hand, you into his back, but it was long enough that your feet were beginning to ache and Mycroft had become silent a short while ago. You attempted to loosen your grip but Mycroft quickly grabbed back at your hands, holding them to him again. You changed your tactic and instead circled round until your hands remained together on his back, you now at his front and you gave him one last squeeze before guiding him backwards to the sofa, taking your place next to him but keeping your arms around him.

"I'm sorry." His voice was broken, quieter than usual. You shook your head and fought the urge to cry again.

"Don't." You spoke, sliding a hand down to hold his own that rested on his thigh. "Don't apologise Myc. You didn't do anything on purpose, you were just trying to be a good person.. a good brother. We're both still alive. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly, they're all fine, and I have no doubt that it was partly due to you that they are still okay- whatever the three of you did in there, it worked, and that's all that matters to me." Mycroft shifted, his eyes finding yours once more, scanning, searching, trying to find anything that showed you were lying, that you didn't trust him anymore, but he couldn't find anything.

"But I-" You placed a hand at the back of his neck and leaned forward slightly, your lips meeting his briefly for a few seconds before pulling back. It wasn't desperate, or longing, or out of lust- it was everything Mycroft needed. Everything that let him know that you weren't going anywhere, that you still wanted to be around him, to be with him. He relaxed but didn't speak, his hand beneath yours just turning to allow your fingers to lace together as he let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. You rested your head against his shoulder, smiling softly as you felt his own rest atop yours before falling into a comfortable silence.

[heinzpilsnerbloody]

A little bit about cultural context

You know, Rik and Ade are almost unknown here in Russia. 

I discovered them by accident: there was the footage from TYO in a documentary called “Video Nasties: Moral Panic, Censorship & Videotape” (yeah, I love these things :D). 

You could say, it was love at first 

I thought: "God, this punk guy is so good at screaming!  I suppose I have strange taste in men What was this show called?.." Then... the miracles began.

I started looking for the show's translation, but found that only the episode "Bambi" was well translated into Russian (and only because of Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie in it - these guys are loved in Russia).

(Well, after I started my work, I found a good enough translation of first episode and amateur dubbing for part of the first series, but TYO clearly needed a quality full-fledged Russian translation on that moment.)

Now, I hope, the show is more accessible to the Russian audience (at least I tried damn well to make it so.)

But most Russian viewers, if they know Rik, know him thanks to "Drop Dead Fred" (and they don’t know Ade at all - except that someone could remember him in "Guest House Paradiso", but this is unlikely. ... Actually, most of the Russian comments on this film sound like "What are the decent actors like Simon Pegg and Vincent Cassel doing here?" And I'm like: “Dudes, actually Simon Pegg is a big fan of this guy in red rubber underwear”). 

Although, as far as I know, someone even paid out of his pocket for the Russian dubbing of "Bottom", I'm afraid this just isn’t the type of show that could become popular in Russia. For people with a refined taste this show seems too vulgar; for, well, ordinary people there are enough Russian shows (or more famous modern comedies); And for both “Bottom” is too, hm, foreign. I myself, frankly, don’t particularly like it (sorry) - even though I know that Beckett inspired the guys to create it, for me the humor in it isn’t sufficiently subtle, and “Bottom” isn’t as colorful and stormy as “TYO” (but I still like the slapstiсk and enjoy the acting - this scene is pure gold in my opinion). 

(By the way, there is also Russian dubbing of “Blackadder”, but if you ask me - it's pretty bad. For example: “best man” in value of “groomsman”, which in Russian can be translated only as “Шафер” [Shа́fer] (from the German word “Schaffer”, which means "manager") or “Друг жениха” [droog jenikhа́] (groom's friend), in this translation sounds like “Лучший мужчина” [lúchshi mujschína](well, it’s “best man”, actually :’D but in Russian it doesn’t make any sense even if Flashheart is literally the best man). 

Maybe one day I'll do the "Blackadder" translation by myself.)

Actually, I would really like to translate into Russian more TCSP-films, “Kevin Turvey Investigates”, “Dangerous Brothers”, Ben Elton's "Happy families", “Grim Tales” and much more, but I'm afraid I just can’t do it without English subtitles. Unfortunately, I can’t catch English well enough through listening. At the moment I'm working on the translation of The New Statesman, because it has Croatian subtitles, but that, I tell you, is really hard, and the translation is not as accurate as I'd like.

In fact, I have almost no one to talk about Rik and Ade in Russian (except for the beta of my translations - by the way, she read some of TYO fanfiction and speaks highly of "Love and Mobsters", - and a few people in the Russian social network who sometimes comment on videos with my translations).

Probably, that's why I'm here :’D