#i cannot fucking believe my luck- how did i land a person this wild???

[interstellarbookofflowers]

happy points are back cuz haHA the times are shitty :)))

finally finished watching bullet train with my sis (i hc lemon as autistic)

i dried up flower petals from the bouquet i got from my friend for my bday! theyre finally dry so im thinking up a journal spread

[honey-dewey]

Game Night

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 1,722

Warnings: none

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

It’s game night in the Morales household. The boys and you all sit down with drinks and snacks and decide to play one of the most friendship ruining games on the planet. Who will win the cutthroat game of monopoly?

“Babe, can you get the door?” You shouted, hearing Frankie shuffle around the living room. “The boys are here!”

Frankie eagerly bounded to the door, almost falling on his face on the slippery wooden floors. He quickly righted himself and pulled the door open, embracing Benny, Will, and Santiago in one go. 

“Boys!” You said cheerily as they entered the house. “C’mon! I made dip, and there’s drinks in the fridge, and there’s also a secret dessert.” 

“If you weren’t married, I would get on one knee, here and now,” Benny said, pulling you into a hug. “You are the best!” 

You laughed. “Yeah? Let’s see how that holds up. I distinctly remember cleaning my carpets for a week after our last game night.” 

“Excuse you!” Will called from the living room. “Benny called me a dumb whore for charging him money! I couldn’t let that slide!” 

Laughing, you cleared away the coasters and remotes from the living room table, leaving it blank for tonight’s game. 

Frankie grabbed a box from the supply closet and set it down on the living room coffee table. The box in question was beat up and held together with packing tape, but the name of the game was still legible. Monopoly. 

“Are we playing teams?” Frankie asked as you all gathered around the table, you setting the snacks down and going out to grab beers for the boys. 

“If we are, I call Frankie!” You shouted from the kitchen. 

Will snorted. “You’re married. Of course you’ll be a team. Benny?” 

Benny fist-bumped his brother. “Hell yeah!” 

“And me?” Santiago said, amusement making his voice light. 

“Pope,” Frankie said. “Every time we play, you kick all our asses. You don’t need a team.” 

Santiago snorted. “Sounds fair,” he said. “Although, I would appreciate a partner to teach my secrets to.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. Ever since you and Frankie had gotten married, Santiago had been bugging you for a baby. You had no idea why he wanted you to have one so bad, but he did. 

“Pope, if I do end up pregnant, I promise you’ll be the second person I tell,” you said, leaning towards the table and grabbing your favorite piece. The horse and rider. “Right after my husband.” 

Santiago grabbed his piece, the battleship, and smiled. “Of course.” 

Benny and Will took their piece, the cannon, and you all set the pieces down. 

“Who’s rolling first?” Frankie asked, grabbing the dice and holding them out. 

Will rolled for his team first, getting a solid 8. Santiago went next, rolling a 10. 

“Good luck,” you said to Frankie, leaning on his shoulder as he rolled the dice. A quick count of the dots gave you an 11. 

“Fuck yeah!” Frankie said happily, scooping up the dice again. “We get to go first.” 

Nothing much happened for your first go around of the board. Everyone knew the strategy of ‘wait to see how the game would play out’ and that had led to plenty of long monopoly games. You and Frankie agreed on the light blue and pink properties, and managed to buy Vermont and Virginia in two turns. You also, after a quick discussion, bought Illinois when you landed on it, knowing that the reds and the yellows were Santiago’s strategy. 

Another go around of the board, and the strategies began to emerge. You and Frankie got two railroads and another two properties in your target area, and it seemed that Will and Benny were too busy trying to outsmart Santiago that they didn’t even realize you and Frankie were very slowly taking over half the board. Santiago, in true Santiago fashion, kept his strategy as hidden as possible, buying properties from the entire board instead of focusing on one area. By the time you’d all passed Go again, tension was still, surprisingly, low. 

That changed quickly. You and Frankie bought what was affectionately referred to as ‘the slums’ but was actually just the two brown properties with a lucky roll of snake eyes, and through a well timed chance card, Will and Benny ended up in jail, both agreeing that it was complete bullshit while Santiago laughed. 

“Houses?” Frankie murmured in your ear as he added the second brown card to your stack. 

You glanced at what Santiago had and what the brothers had. “Wait. Santi’s trying to edge us off those orange properties, but give it another go around. He’s got that last blue one, Connecticut, but we’ve got Illinois, which he needs. And I’ve got no clue what Will and Benny are doing.” 

Frankie nodded, taking the dice and rolling again, getting you two the last pink property. 

“I’m gonna go grab more food, anyone want anything?” You asked, standing and looking around. 

“Another drink?” Benny asked, holding up his empty beer bottle. 

You took it, scanning the table for anything else you could recycle. “Of course,” you said. “How about I bring out the prize tonight, hm?” 

The boys cheered. Monopoly wasn’t a game where you often congratulated the winner. In fact, half the time Frankie managed to beat everyone, you jokingly refused to kiss him. But tonight, you wanted to up the stakes. 

Grabbing another beer for Benny, you balanced a covered pie tin with your other hand and walked back into the living room, where Frankie was happily arranging what had been collected in Free Parking. 

“Boys!” You announced happily. “Tonight’s victor will be awarded the grand prize of,” you pulled the tin foil off the pie tin. “A homemade cherry pie.” 

Immediately, everyone went wild. You laughed, covering the pie back up and setting it down on the kitchen counter. “Shall we keep playing?” 

The game continued, a few more go arounds of the board securing the final few properties. You and Frankie had almost every property you wanted, along with three of the four railroads. 

“Uh, guys,” Benny said finally after you charged him for a railroad. “Team lovebirds are destroying us right now. How’d we let that happen? How did no one notice?”

You laughed, grabbing the dice and rolling them. “I guess we’ll be keeping that pie.” 

“Not if I can help it!” Santiago held up the final light blue card. “Suck it!” 

“Mhm, we’ve got that last red one,” you pointed out, moving your piece and reluctantly handing Benny and Will some money. “Whenever you’re ready to trade, we’ll be here.” 

Will whistled, pushing the dice towards Santiago. “Dude, that’s rough.” 

Santiago leaned forward. “Nah. I want that damn pie.” 

Not long after that, Benny and Will went bankrupt, much to their disappointment. However, it meant they could man the bank and they wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire that would become your game. 

The game continued to drag on, neither you nor Santiago willing to back down. Money was exchanged, Will and Benny’s properties were bought, and houses were built. 

By the time anything interesting happened, you and Frankie had a solid chokehold on half the board. It was a war of attrition, a simple back and forth of the money. And then, by some miracle, you rolled the dice and landed on free parking. 

It was a crushing blow for poor Santiago. Suddenly, you and Frankie were up by almost five thousand dollars, able to afford a bunch of houses and, very slowly, you were able to drive Santiago to bankruptcy. 

“Damn!” He yelled, realizing he was done. “Good game, damn I cannot believe I lost.” 

You grinned, standing. “Pack all of this up. I’ll go cut the pie.” 

While the boys cleaned, you got five plates, putting a slice of pie on each one. Using old waiting skills and going very slowly, you carried all five plates out. 

“Jeez babe!” Frankie said, jumping up to help you. “Gimme some of those! You could’ve asked for help.” 

“I had it,” you reassured, sitting on the couch and sinking your fork into the pie. “Fuck, that is beautiful.” 

For the rest of the night, you and the boys ate, drank, and pulled out a deck of Uno cards to keep the fun going. Of course, Benny kicked all your asses, but he was the only one who ever actually strategized Uno. Everyone else enjoyed tipsy fun, laughing when someone got screwed and groaning when someone won. 

Eventually, some time well past midnight, you sent everyone to bed, or the couch in Santiago’s case. That included Frankie, who pulled you into your shared bedroom and grinned. “Babe, I got a question.” 

“Fire away.” 

Frankie came up behind you, putting his hands against your belly. “When are we gonna tell them?” 

“Tomorrow,” you murmured, resting your hands overtop Frankie’s. “I wanna watch Santi spit coffee out his nose.” 

Chuckling, Frankie led you to bed. “You’re evil.” 

The next morning, you gave each of the boys a coffee cup, smiling as you received sleepy murmurs. 

“Hey Benny,” you called, opening the fridge and peering into it. “You got any use for a perfectly good bottle of wine?” 

“Uh, why?” Benny asked, looking up from his mug. 

You shrugged. “Frankie’s not a wine guy and I can’t drink it.” 

“Yes you can,” Will said. “You drank a whole bottle with Benny last month.” 

“Bitch, I wasn’t pregnant last month.” 

As you’d guessed last night, Santiago choked on his coffee, coughing so violently that Frankie had to thump him on the back a few times. “What?” He yelled when he was finally able to talk again. 

“I’m pregnant,” you said, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “Surprise. You’re all gonna be uncles.” 

Santiago fist pumped the air. “Hell yeah! I get a monopoly partner!” 

You laughed, doubling over the counter. “That’s what you’re focusing on?” 

“I have my priorities,” Santiago said with a smile. 

Benny stood, looking you up and down. “Can I touch? Please?” 

You shrugged, gesturing him closer. “Nothing to touch yet, but yeah.” 

Benny’s hand was warm on your belly, and he grinned at the expanse of exposed skin. “Hey,” he said directly to the baby. “I’m your uncle Benny.” 

“Ben,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re talking to a month old bean.” 

But now Will was beside you, and so was Santi, and there was Frankie behind you. Surrounded by your boys, you grinned. “I love this family.”

[schrijverr]

I Wrote My Own Deliverance

Chapter 9 out of 10

Alexander Hamilton is reborn as Alex Hambleton. He is desperate not to make the same mistakes twice, but it seems he is stuck in the narrative, unable to get out. Familiar faces pop up all around him as he attempts to keep his previous life a secret and write himself out of the story.

On AO3.

Ships: Alex/John/Eliza preslash implied

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Alex had attempted to sleep his misery away. He had hoped to wake up when it was all over and he could pretend he had not just done that again.

Overwhelm them with honesty always felt like a great option, until you had spread the word and were waiting for the reactions.

However, no such luck was in store for Alex when he awoke to the sound of someone banging loudly on his door. It took a moment for the yelling to register, but he quickly identified it as Angelica when she yelled: “Alexander open this door right now, because I will not hesitate to kick it in.”

He jumped out of bed and called something out to her as he stumbled over, blanket hanging over his shoulders, his hair still a mess from running his hands through it all night, bags under his eyes and a weight on the slump of his shoulders.

When he opened the door, he was met with more people than just Angelica. Behind her stood Eliza, Herc, Lafayette and John, all with crossed arms and stern expressions on their faces.

If they expected him to react the same as before, they were sorely mistaken. He was tired and emotionally drained and he did not have the energy to create an aloof mask. So when he saw them all standing there, he did what any sane person would have done and broke down into tears as he sank to the floor.

Immediately the lecture they had in store for him was forgotten as they sank down to wrap him up in a hug as he sobbed a thousand apologies into their clothes.

After a while Angelica took control of the situation and managed to usher them into the dorm, before they attracted too much attention. She also situated Alex onto his bed, pressed tightly between his friends, with Eliza and John on both sides and Herc and Lafayette next to them, while Angie set to make some tea.

“I’m so sorry for not telling you all.” Alex said, wiping away his tears after he had finally gotten his breathing under control.

“Hey, it’s okay, Alexander, it’s all okay.” Eliza petted his hair, but it just made more tears fall out of his eyes.

“No, no, it’s not,” he protested, voice still broken, “I fucked up again, I made you all sad by ignoring you and it was all for nothing anyway, I still messed up and I’m probably going to stay a fuck up for the rest of my life even when I try so so hard, it’s just never enough.”

“Alex, stop that.” John told him, he realized that kindness was perhaps good, but not if they couldn't snap him out of it.

“Stop what?”

“Stop beating yourself up over trying to be a better person and succeeding.” he answered, taking pride in the fact that he had reduced Alexander ‘A-Hundred-Words-Per-Minute’ Hamilton to silent gaping imitation of a fish on dry land.

When he finally managed to gather his words, he softly whispered: “Succeeded?”

At that point Angelica came back and pushed a warm mug in his hand as she counted on her fingers: “Didn’t cheat, didn’t ruin someone else’s life in an attempt to save your reputation and tried to do what was best for your friends even if the conclusion on how to do that was wrong. You already ‘changed the story’, as you put it.”

“But what if it wasn’t enough?” he asked, “What if no one believes me and Washington gets fired and he hates me and then I never get to see him or Mama M again and you all still have to yell at me for being a shit friend, which is true, and I am left alone and-”

“Alex, I love you, but please shut up before you talk yourself into a panic attack.” Eliza cut off his ramblings.

It seemed that it was enough for Alex to completely shut down and he just stared into another dimension, face riddled with shock and disbelief.

“If zat is truly the worst thing you can come up with then rest assured, mon petit lion, I can - how you say - ah, repel these thoughts.” Laf offered, “If no one believes you, you can actually prove you are Alexander Hamilton by registering.”

“Yeah, and Washington fucking loves you dude, so be chill on that front.” Laurens added, “Same goes for Martha, if she’s still the same.”

“And we will yell at you, but we’re not going to ditch you.” Angelica finished.

“Are you sure?” Alex asked.

Both John and Eliza pull him in for a hug as they whispered: “Of course we’re sure.” “We missed you.”

“Sorry I never said I remembered.” Alex apologized again.

“Well, one pro of being a chronic over-sharer with the world at large is that you don’t really have to explain.” Herc was teasing him, that was Hercs teasing voice and Alex had never been more happy that he was being made fun of.

The sound from his throat was a mix between a sob and a laugh as he confessed: “I missed all of you so much, it literally hurt to not say anything.”

“We believe you.” Eliza told him and both she and Laurens hugged him tightly.

They formed a cuddle pile and started up the The Fellowship of the Ring while Alex was busy being overwhelmed by what his life was right now.

When the fellowship had just arrived in Moria, Alex cleared his throat and said: “I think I’m ready for the yelling now.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Angelica warned him before getting up and taking a deep breath: “How dare you give in to your big ego and throw away your life in a duel when you wife and living children needed you. How dare you leave us all behind for honor when we needed you, you dumb fuck.”

“It was a dick move to not tell me who you were when I found you again, Alex.” John did not give him a moment to react, “I missed you so fucking much and then you pull that shit, break my heart all over again.”

“While I understand and forgive you, it was, as John eloquently phrased it, a dick move to not come to my aid in France.” Lafayette told him and Alex shrunk under his gaze.

Eliza took over: “It was difficult when you left me with the children and it took a long time to forgive you and it hurt even more to see you without you knowing me. And knowing in hindsight that you did, does not make it any better.”

Alex was ready for the ground to swallow him and he wanted to nothing more then for this to be over as he turned to Herc, who shrugged: “It sucked that you didn’t come around more? I don’t know, dude, I don’t have that much beef with you. Except that I had to deal with these two dramatic assholes without you.”

The two assholes in question both let out an indignant ‘Hey!’ as Alex snorted, already calming down a bit.

It was quiet for a few more seconds then Alex said: “Can I talk now? I know I’ve already written everything down for the world to see and all that, but I have been thinking for years about what to say if I had the chance, so…”

John grinned and said: “I never thought I’d say this, but I’d love a Hamilton speech right now. Do your worst.”

“I resent that.” he fired back, before turning to Herc, he wasn’t ready to face Eliza yet, “Sorry, I allowed myself to get swept up in the world of politics so much that I did not make time to see you. It was both snobby and shitty and you deserved better than that.”

Herc gave him some finger guns, which settled his nerves slightly.

Then he moved to Lafayette: “I want to say sorry for never coming for you. I know that politically it was the right decision, but I should have come for you anyway. I promised and then I left you. Even if I argued for neutrality against France, I could have taken a break to save you for personal reasons and the fact that I didn’t speaks of my asshole-ness.”

Lafayette gave him a tight smile and forgiving eyes, but he didn’t say a word. Alex couldn’t tell if it was because the other had realized that if Alex were interrupted he might be unable to start again or because Laf did not have the words to reply.

He turned to Angelica: “I have attempted many times to figure out what to say to you, but I never really know. You were the sister I never had, the support system I shouldn’t have taken for granted, yet I did. I can never repay you for being there for Betsy. So, thank you.”

She patted his shoulder and smiled encouragingly. As much as she could let her temper run wild, she could always be the rock he needed and he was so very grateful for her.

Then he found himself face to face with John. For all the speeches he had written for Laurens, when actually faced with the man, he grasped at straws.

“My dear Laurens,” what other way to start was there? “I cannot begin to express how all my words left me when I saw you alive once more. It pained me that I could not be there when you died and that our promise to see the war through together could not be fulfilled.”

He was reverting back to his older form of speech, but he was hardly noticing it: “We have left so much unsaid between us that breaking the silence seems terrifying, yet I hope that one day you can forgive me for not immediately sharing the delight of finding you in this life.”

“I cannot say how this life we’re making for ourselves will pan out.” he added, “The world is different and I cannot yet say if our stories will be, but I hope we can build upon a relation passed and see where the road takes us.”

Laurens took his hand a squeezed it. There were tears in both their eyes and neither said a word as they stayed liked that for a second, before Alex cleared his throat and turned to the last person in the room.

He had written so much for Eliza, but the only thing he could bring himself to say was an apology: “I know I can never apologize enough for all that I did to you, but I want you to know how incredibly sorry I am and how aware I am that I can never truly apologize for everything I have done.”

“It’s okay.” she said, sweet smile on her face, “It wasn’t for a long time, but you are not him anymore and you are still a good man. Finding out you’re poly did explain a lot.”

“Just because I’m poly doesn’t mean cheating is okay, not to mention telling the whole world about it.” Alex interjected, stereotypes were shit, “Being poly is also about communicating, which is every relationship to be honest.”

“I know, dear.” she cut off his verbal essay before it could begin, “What I meant is that it explained how you still looked at me like I was the world, even after everything. And how your eyes would sparkle when you talked about John, while still having the same look for me.”

“Oh.” sometimes he wondered why he was known as eloquent.

She smiled and repeated: “Yeah, oh.”

Herc piped up: “She and John started the POHC after the party. It was kinda sad, but also kinda sweet. We mostly avoided them.”

“Shut up, Herc.” John hissed, blush on his features, while Alex asked: “POHC?”

“Pine Over Hamilton Club.” Herc grinned, it seemed his spying tendencies had turned into a need for gossip.

“Not the point.” Eliza interrupted, also blushing, “We’ll talk about it later, for now, lets focus on the situation at hand. Did Washington know you were going to do this?”

“Yeah,” Alex snorted, “I’m not doing that without consent two times. I’m an idiot, but I’m not stupid, you know. Mama M wanted to push for a lawsuit, but telling someone you will sue them if they breathe a word is about the same as telling them they’re right.”

“That sucks, mon ami.” Lafayette said.

“Tell me about it.” Alex smiled back, “Though we’re still considering pushing a lawsuit when we have the board on our side. I don’t want to dive into it without being registered.”

“You’re going to register?” Angelica asked.

“I have to, Angie.” Alex said, “If I get called for the board then I have proof, and I know they will call on me to explain, so better get it over with. The only reason I haven’t yet is because I didn’t want to do it without asking you guys.”

“Why?”

“Because if I am verified, then Washington will have to be verified and then everyone will look at the two ‘Great Founding Fathers of the United Sates of America’ and by extension everyone near them with a name resembling someone they knew.” Alex explained, “Of course you can avoid it by not being friends with me again, which I totally get and I don’t blame you if you don’t want to be associated with me.”

“Oh non, Alex, I will never let mon petit frére go.” Lafayette hugged him tightly and it was good to be in the mans arms again. He had missed his brother in all but blood.

“Yeah, not cool that you think we’ll drop you again.” Herc scolded him playfully, “We’re cooler than that.”

“I can handle them if they come after me.” Angelica said fiercely.

“And I do not doubt that.” Alex told her, “You are terrifying and I want to be on your good side for the rest of my life, but maybe take some time to think about it.”

She glanced at him and smirked: “I never thought I’d see the day when Alexander Hamilton tells me to pause and think like he was Aa- Oh my god, you have been roommates with Aaron Burr for over a year!”

[ronanlyncx]

the best parts of the foxhole court (feat. me crying)

- i’m not saying love at first sight exists but… the first time they meet andrew almost breaks neil’s ribs <3333

- “Andrew smiled down at Neil and tapped two fingers to his temple in salute. “Better luck next time.” this is… gay

- ““I’m not good enough to play on the same court as a champion.” “True, but irrelevant.” a new voice said.” Okay i know we have all acknowledged that kevin day is the queen of being extra but like…. nothing will ever top this

- “Where the court is, Kevin is.” “I didn’t think the court is what Kevin was staying for [talking about Andrew]” #gay

- “You have a nice car for someone who thinks he’s poor,” “That’s why we’re poor.”

- Andrew pretending to be Aaron when he picked Neil up from the airport

- “”I did.” Neil said. He tapped two fingers to his temple, copying Andrew’s mocking salute from their first meeting. “Better luck next time.” you know what this is? gay. 

- “Keys meant Neil had explicit permission to be here and do what he liked. They meant he belonged.” Neil has a key kink

- When Neil gets his new racquet it was “all he could do” to keep from crushing the net to his nose and smelling it…..wtf

- “It was a little comforting that neither Aaron or Nicky was scoring, either, but Kevin landed almost a third of his shots. It was a poor show from a former national champion, but it was also intensely humbling as Kevin had grown up playing left handed. Seeing him take on Andrew right-handed was ballsy enough; seeing him score was surreal.” kevin and neil supporting each other is my kink

- “Neil watched him [Kevin] over his shoulder. “I saw him first.” Nicky said. “I thought you had Erik,” Neil said.” Neil “i don’t swing” Josten my ass

- ““What’s Andrew doing?” Neil asked. “Nothing.” wow i love foreshadowing

- Kevin telling Nicky that Neil could be court…. my heart is full my plants are watered my acne is gone

- “Neil couldn’t hear the answer, but the sharp slap of the phone snapping shut again said it wasn’t the one Kevin wanted.” kevin being extra exhibit B

- “Neil was much better at instigating fights than winning them.” oh honey we know

- Neil is so extra okay like,,, when they were moving Matt into the dorm Neil literally did not take his duffel bag off his shoulder the entire time….they carried couches up the stairs,,,and he didn’t take the bag off,,, i fucking hate him lmao

-’“The death threats were creative, though.” Nicky said. “Maybe this time they’ll follow through and actually kill one of us. Let’s vote. I nominate Seth.” jesus nora really did that 

- ““He’s short, can’t play, and looks like he has an attitude problem,” Seth said.” i can’t believe this is neil josten’s official twitter bio

- “Neil didn’t know what triggered their [Allison and Seth’s] abrupt and constant change in emotions. He hoped he never understood.” Neil being 100% done with the straights™

- Nicky telling neil he knows about his contacts and is like “why tf would you choose brown?” and neil is like “I like brown” and nicky goes “Andrew doesn’t” #gay

- Nicky needing the directions to the exit to Sweeties and Andrew is like “the one with the waffle house” and you can physically feel Nicky looking into the camera like he’s on the office,“This is South Carolina. Every exit leads to waffle house.” lmaoooo

- Neil paying the busboy $100 to knock him out so he doesn’t tell his secrets 

- ““You’ll need all the water you can get today. Cracker’ll dehydrate you like no one’s business.” Neil answered by upending his glass onto the floor.” bad attitude™

- i’d just like to take the time to say that i love matt boyd

- “Andrew reached up and forcibly uncurled Neil’s fingers from his mouth. He pushed Neil’s hand out of the way and stared at Neil with nothing between them. Neil didn’t understand the look on his face…whatever the look was it was dark and intense enough to swallow Neil whole” this is so fucking gay

- ““Are you stupid?” Seth asked Neil. “Yeah.”

- “look here shortbus” lol

- “He [Neil] had enough problems getting along with his classmates now that he was wearing his exy jersey. He caused a small disruption wherever he went.” i’m sorry neil but literally no one cares about sports this much 

- “Neil looked between Seth and Allison. “Are Andrew and Renee…?” oh no honey renee is a lesbian

- ““This is my reassured face,” Neil said, pointing to his blank expression.” he’s so extra i hate him sjdsdkksdks  

- Dan slamming into a player hard enough to knock him over… suddenly i love sports

- ““Going in for Seth Gordon is freshman Neil Josten, number ten, of Millport, Arizona.” Neil wondered if casket lids sounded like court doors slamming shut.” he’s so extra sdkldjslk

- “Hey, Pinocchio. Time to run. This one’s for you.” I don’t know how this is gay but it is

- “Dan stumbled over to Matt, looped her arms around his neck, and fell asleep immediately.” they’re so cute i tolerate one (1) straight couple

- “Damn it all to hell. Hemmick! You were supposed to wake them up ten miles ago.” “I don’t want to die.” 

- Wymack throwing his wallet at Andrew to wake him up 

- ““Morning sunshine,” Matt said. “Fuck you” Kevin said. Dan yawned into her hand. “Glad to see you’re still a morning person.”  “Fuck you too.” big mood

- ““It’s good to see you again,” Kevin said, and smiled as he took her hand. Behind Kathy’s back, Dan feigned swooning into Matt’s arms.” Dan Wilds is an icon

- “Renee was sitting sideways in Andrew’s lap, one foot braced against the ground to keep him from shoving her off. She had a hand over his mouth as they both stared up at the stage. Matt had one of Andrew’s wrist in both hands. Wymack had the other.” refer to this post

- ““I can’t,” Neil said. “I have a bit of an attitude problem.” there is literally no way to describe the feeling you get when you first read this part like i seriously have goosebumps,,, neil standing up for kevin, neil shutting riko’s bullshit answers and excuses down, neil leaving kathy a shook mess… 15/10 

- ““Someone as inexperienced as you are has no right to an opinion on this matter.” “All the same, I’ll give you one more,” Neil said.” BRUHHHHH 

- “Riko,” Andrew said, spreading his arms as if he intended to hug Riko hello.” this man high as fuck

- “It’s fine, Coach,” Andrew said catching up to them. He touched Neil’s back on his way by, fingers light enough to give Neil goose bumps, but didn’t slow down on his way to Kevin’s side.” do y’all understand how fucking gay this is

- “Oh, Neil, as unpredictable as he is unreal.”

- Andrew punching the window and Matt getting paid $300 to fix it

- “Remember this feeling. This is the moment you stop being the rabbit.” i’m so fucking emo you don’t even understand 

- Everyone being so shook when they figured out Neil could speak french AND german 

- Andrew giving Neil clothes pt. 2

- “A group of people shouldered their way up to the bar counter at Neil’s back, pushing him into Andrew. Andrew didn’t budge beneath his weight. He was something solid to lean against, something violent and fierce and unmoving.” Okay neil was probably pressed against Andrew for five seconds (at most) this is so gay and sosososo extra

- Kevin downing thirteen drinks in less than 2 hours..i cannot even imagine,,, this gave me alcohol poisoning just reading it

- the monsters getting the news about seth, and kevin is like “what about the line-up?” and nicky is like ???dude??? and kevin goes “it’s not a major loss.” i’m going to hell for laughing

- ANDREW GIVING NEIL THE KEY TO THE HOUSE IN COLOMBIA I LOVE DYING AND BEING DEAD

[concretenostalgia-blog]

What is Found in the Wake of Resurgent Love

That’s dawn breaking, splitting seamed heart on edge of bright sword, among other things.  And the flock, in the park, ripping the grass, putting feathers to rest, a gleam in eye of water, it all is here and here we work.  We work.  We leave grindstones and head to pacify our torments, our stale bread sorrowed and hunger.  Not physically edible hunger, a hunger of the spirit.  A resigning to the backwash lands and rows and halls and pastures.  Out of step.  Passages of this morning star through the click-clack houses and towers too tall for small town yet dream of being nothing more than small town, with their one gas station, and their ice cream shop, and their water tower delivering assurance of rest despite loneliness terrorizing those who are too far from anything and anyone and all that life happening always and forever.  I wish you could dream of it, you know, I wish you could dream of it, too.  But that’s what it is.  Being in a roomful of heads with no restless spirit and on-the-perfect-line mindset heartset on doing what is supposed to be, instead of being what is supposed to do.  Bashful invertebrates, I’m sorry for nothing and hopeful for most and hung up on one in particular who is too far from me to where I am not able to show them how I feel and think and work and dream and all these other things that, all-together considered, prove that one is human.


How can one predict the end when the end is always just about to be?  I don’t forget that which truly matters to me.  That which has impacted me in a grand degree.


I don’t wanna be a character anymore.  I have no outward appearance, at least I don’t think I do.  Not something I have noticed.  I killed that character in me, for good or for worse, I wounded him and shoved him away and now I locked the door with him banging behind it, trying to get out and continue this masquerade yet I am sick and losing it and my mind is dangerous and I am sorry that I am wrong again, this play called life is sickening me.  Another blow to humanity I am and that’s a wrap a title a lack of god given right to be an animal, please make me an animal again, those eyes betraying every single stroke of luck.  It hurts, you know, to know and to think and to act accordingly to nature which itself is wild and untamable no matter what we do, it is either wild or destroyed, nothing more nothing less.  I am scared to love everything again, to hope for everything, to extend energy and soul until thinned and bereft of happiness myself, I don’t know how much I have left in me for anything and this perplexes and frightens me.  I don’t know what to do at the end.  I don’t know what I would do after it, going out beyond it.  Hell, what would you do?  How you would act?  Betray those things we consider human?  A fine line, the fringed line, wrapping around smiles and faces and ugly bedridden bodies trampling themselves, covered in hair and beards and teeth shaking fences there is a cage you put me in and I want out out out out out out out out out out you fucking bastard you let me out again and I will save you, I will save us and we will finish what we started, don’t kill me yet, let me die with you in due time, in old age where we will smile down upon all that was had and done and accomplished and hoped for and human to human dignity restored in thyself.  A story without an actual end, letting the rotted out to grow blooming beauty from it, decay into salvation, a heart attacked by storm only saved to float on boat to horizonline.


You are ecstatic from it, this realization, a sickening sensation of dread piling at your door your knocking, dum-dum-dum, the knocking at your door is feeling a thud, accusations are here and I will not run now.  Been running all my life and now after not running for a bit I begin again away from so-called friends and those who mean everything to me and that I cannot exist without yet here I am running from them I repeat myself psycho it’s okay I am crazy and that is fine I’d rather be that than a normal average person who dilutes themselves shot television sedative oh the moth to lamp life cycle you can’t catch that light it is only bringing you to a series of inane and ineffective fucking rejections again and again, sold the story hallelujah, binged on nothing but my own breath.  Mop headed radical of the night, soaking up the darkness with short tempered sadness, along the river white, lest ye forget thou lack of self, petty patterns giving way to poets and writers of the modern day death trap.  This is furious.  Bend the edge and push your body all the way towards oblivion, there is no END THERE IS NO END THERE IS NO END I dare you to believe me and see where this all goes, I told you I am psychotic and that is okay, I am still in love with you and knows it too, beige walls are telling me ghost stories here in Indianapolis, a fever for wrecking homes and those who are not eager enough to let demons and angels go get coffee together in such harmony that you could rest easy knowing the wicked are united with the pure as well.


And that sounds as though cannons are barraging the distance, this echo of when my walls will fall and the animal will be let loose again I hope that I’ll be fine too, I will be.  This thing we call writing has saved my life, for reasons I have yet to understand or know, but it has and continues to give me what I need to survive.  It is the only thing I do well, the only thing I know how to do, it is natural and completes me when I am involved heavily into it.  Without this I have no course of action, a passenger with no passage to roll along, a man without any known body to live in, no home to call home, a voiceless priest who drags knuckles in circles waiting for the doom and freedom of death and release into that void, that void which is the truth to our own salvation.


*


Look at us, worried a bit too much about everything, when all of this is feeble and mindless.  One goes and hurts another, and why?  I am guilty of it, encamped in it, divisive as much as you are and I am the one spouting about unity and all that regard, woah that handful of bulletproofing will not save you from doomsday, painted by chimpanzees facial recognition bellowing through thin air and your pants, they are on and your shirt, is off and your voice, is callused and your hair, is intertwined and your name, is hidden behind your smile and your love, is chosen for eternity and placed beside one and only one and that’s all there ever has been and will be and forever.  Down the point in all these road where intersecting and motion is all ablaze, energy is rampant at this center.  Yet go down the block or two and tell me what you uncover from behind doors colored and alleys graveled and sing-song whimpering a sweet tune of sugar flakes, melting on tongue when released into wild.  I am bold.  I am human.  I am you, fragile and momentary and just about over it, too.


Now I’ve come to realize, that I’ve written so much about my past experiences in and about this America, that I have now forgotten what it is to be out there.  I have written away any remembrance of my current existence.  And there is a strange freedom with this thought, one that says the slate is clean and it is time to move onward and go ahead, continue beating body against the roadways, looking for anything which could prove any derelict idea sprouting in overpowering head.


*


There have been only two times in my little life, so far, where I’ve felt the surge of all this universal energy coming down to focus in my consciousness on all of everything and the ability to feel everything.  The first time was when I was 21 years old, and I was diving into writing heavily and reading many books.  I was in the middle of “The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test” by Tom Wolfe.  While reading that book, IT hit me.  I got IT.  I understood IT.  And ever since then, I never could look back without a relentless wonder about IT.  That is when I discovered what IT is and was and always will be.  That moment has indefinitely changed my life, forever, even after this death.  That was the first moment.  The second moment, is about her.


I drifted and began losing my Self while pushing this character that consumed me, this character who slightly over-exaggerated things and reacted wildly to people and was always on the move with no home, a nomadic craze driven energetic spazm of human spirit.  Now, I am that, just not to the extent I pushed this character I wanted to represent me, the whole me.  And doing so, after a while, almost killed my spirit.  I was lifelining my own Self, so I had to wound the beast in my head, hurt the beast so much so that it could stay in line and not consume my whole being.  I did so with writing.  And in doing so, I was barely there.  This beast had become so much of my life that I didn’t know what I did or didn’t enjoy or what I cared for or where I belonged or anything anymore.  I forgot what it is to be alive.  I created this hero of sorts, one who could weather any storm and carry any spiritual death to help revitalize those who abandoned any hope, and in that regard I couldn’t be alive for the sake of my own living.  I was perpetually living for others, and that is always how the human spirit ends never to be reborn.  This is not a selfish thing, I was wholly living to support others, without any replenishment of my own personal spirit.  I would only give give give give give give.  This could not go on forever.  And so I did what I had to, and lost my Self almost completely, and became shallow and cold and vicious and in a daze, a constant mess of fogged emotions.


This went on for about a year, being lost and devalued and unable to produce any sort of grand truth in my writing.  I forgot how to feel, and I was sickened beyond belief.  Not a physical illness, this is all doing with my soul.  And there is this girl who is becoming a young woman, strong and resilient and all of everything I consider beautiful wonderful and truthful.  She was about to go away, at least for a bit, going to college and leaving all this place of youth, a goodbye and into this.  I cared about her, and helped her whenever I could, and was there as a friend and someone to give advice and comfort.  I realized, however, that she would be gone soon, and I wouldn’t be able to have many more opportunities to spend any time with her.  Then one night, I realized another thing.  And the rest of the day I couldn’t cope with the emotions, I was shaking and spazzing and nervous and I could not settle, I was at my friend’s house and they tried but I was losing it.  Went to IHOP, I was stammering on about why I am a writer and why this and the universe and everything I felt when I became conscious and aware of all things, I tried to explain it again to my friends, and then I knew what I had to do.  I made the choice, I had to tell her.  I texted her, with an urgency I could not hold back, we made plans to meet the next morning.  I did not sleep, I was breathing heavily for hours in the darkness of the night turning to dawn, my head racing and thinking only of her and this I had to tell her.  I jumped in my car two hours before I was supposed to meet her and roared across the countryside and landed this stuttering body in the parking lot of a coffee shop, had no will of my own anymore I gave that up two days before.  She arrived, my heart sank, I couldn’t breathe right, I was out of sync, I tried to talk to her and barely mumbled asking if she wants to go around now to get the coffee and then we went around I was looking every which way, freaking out, losing reality, all that good stuff which happens at these times.  I sat outside at a table and she came back out with her coffee and I then I told her what I felt.  It was and is love.  True love, one that every story tries to describe yet to no avail.  I know what love is, I’ve felt it and have it and continue to feel it for her, and I was so scared, I still am scared.  So I told her, she already knew, but I told her and made it at least clear that I have these feelings, that I cannot help but care for her on a human level and about her well-being and I have this hope for her to succeed in everything she wants to accomplish and I am willing to give her all I have to see her enjoy all of this simple yet enduring life a human being has.  And I poorly explained this to her on that day, and that is all my fault.  I was not asking for any relationship, all I wanted to do was let her know, that I found love and she is love, my love, my hope, my adoration, what I cannot help but think of quite often, just hoping she is simply living and laughing and feeling it.  To know that all is good, and we are all pretty alright, us human beings.


She was grateful about me and my confession, yet she had no reciprocating emotions or any shutting down of my explanation.  She accepted it and, without realizing how truthful I was and am about this feeling of complete love for her I have and keep, was gracious and relaxed and already forward in life.  We spent an hour or so together, then we went our separate ways.  I’ve talked to her a little bit since then, over the phone, not in person.  I don’t want to hold her back from becoming the person that she wants and will and must become, I don’t want to pressure her into any sort of thing, so I live my life and give her room to live hers.  I am not obsessive over her, do not get confused.  I care so much about her, and that is simply it.


*


The one thing I wish I could do is look people in the eyes when I am telling them something that I mean with all my heart and spirit.  I, for some reason, do not have the courage to show people.  I did not have the courage to show people.  I did not have the courage to show her all of my heart, and that is the only thing that rips me up a bit inside.


*


I found two things in my, so far short, existence.


One is the meaning of IT, the grand question with even more grand of an answer, which I have been and will continue to work on explaining to the best of my abilities.  That is what I dedicate and will dedicate my life to, no matter how poor or rich or lonesome or alive I might be.


Two is the purity of love, the bold truth that which can conquer anything, the power one human has in them and how that power can be used to help bring about a positive change on the reality of our feeble existence.  Because of this choice made in daring to give in totality my whole being to another, I have started to learn how to live again, I realized how there is no such thing as an end, even when one sees no such thing as hope.


*


It is worth it, all of it.  I hope you know that.  I hope you continue in all you do with your bombastic charm and resilient charge of undying energy for the goodness in humanity and our trying times.  I love you and I always will, no matter what else happens or where we go or who we live with or why we become what we become or anything else that we will eventually find out in our own lives.


You are worth it, all of it.  Don’t ever forget that.

[finchbeak]

Madagascar Day 14 - Andasibe

I cannot believe how quickly the last two weeks have gone by. If it weren't for the vast amount of mud and dirt on my clothes, I'd swear I just got here.

Tomorrow William and Fan and I will take one last hike through Mantadia in search of more Indri, Parson's Chameleon, and some geckos. Then the long drive back to Tana where I have a day room at a hotel near the airport. Flight departs at 00:55 and then, about 27 hours later, I land at TPA. I am very ready for Gus, Étienne, and Mabel cuddles.

I met Fan and Dadi at 7:45 this morning and we head off to meet William at Andasibe National Park. This is the most visited park in Madagascar - it's close to Tana and the hiking is very easy. So all those 65+ retirees who come here in groups love this place. And it's tiny, clocking in at 810 hectare (in comparison, the private reserve at Anjajavy is 960, Mantadia is 12,000, and Masoala? A whopping 240,000 hectare).

Andasibe is also one of the few places where you are all but guaranteed to see lemurs. And see them at close range. Unlike Mantadia and Masoala, which are primary forests with giant trees that soar into the sky, Andasibe is a secondary forest - newer trees, some replanted, previous victim to logging (illegal or otherwise). So you don't have to crane your neck nearly as high to see the Diademed Sifaka or Indri.

We we're blessed with good weather. It didn't rain last night and no rain this morning either. We set off and William immediately finds Bamboo Lemur just off the path. We only enjoy our little find for a few minutes before three other guides and their groups pounce on our spot.

William is clearly one of the better, if not THE best, guides in the area. He's off and finding stuff and the other guides mostly just follow his wake. This means we must move fast.

We were the first to happen upon a new Indri couple. Apparently they are kinda assholes and took over an area previously shared by two other Indri families. We were going to wait for them to finish their breakfast and do their business (ahem) closer to the rainforest floor, but suddenly there were a dozen people around taking pictures.

We were also the first to find a family of three Diademed Sifaka. I'm super in love with these guys. One of the best parts about this trip has been the exposure to lemurs that I've not had any interaction with in the past - either at a zoo or at Duke Lemur Center. I got a few good pics in before the crowds found us. However, we didn't immediately leave. I wasn't clamoring for any photos and William said to sit tight while he scoped out another area. The other guides had my back. I was just happily sitting on a log, watching the Diademed, when another guide pulled me into another patch of rainforest to see two younger Diademeds no one had yet noticed. Pro-tip (life tip, honestly): don't spend your entire life behind a camera lens.

William came back and we went deep into the forest. A bit off the path. And William gave me one of his challenges. He points in a general vicinity and tells me to find the animal. I scan the area and bam! Two Collared Nightjars cuddled together under a tree! This is one of the best finds of my trip. They are stunning.

Our next find is just as amazing. Two sleeping woolly lemurs! Cuddled together in a tree! It's so cute I almost can't contain myself. 

We trek deeper into the reserve and hit Indri jackpot. A family of 3. Already descended to take care of their toilette needs. (I have no idea why the come down lower to do this...) We get to watch them for 20 minutes before they begin ascending back to the top of the canopy. No one else finds us.

We depart from Andasibe and head toward Andasibe the village. I am hoping to find a bag in the market that I can check at the airport. I have...bought things. No luck with a bag, but I did finally find lamba! I bought three beautiful pieces of cloth, now I just need to find someone back at home to turn them into something for me (I'd have done it here, there are women and men who just set up with old Singer's and offer their sewing services, but I'm too close to departure). Fan and Dadi and I try to get lunch in the village, but the place Fan knows about isn't open yet. Oh, and it is pouring rain. And has been for the last hour or so.

So we head back towards the lodge. I'm also supposed to go to 'Lemur Island' today. But Fan says it's no good in the rain. And then? The rain stops and the sun comes out and it's 12:15. So all the tourists are at lunch and Fan says that I need to go to Lemur Island. Now.

I am literally the only faza there. I have been kinda dreading this part of the trip. It is going to be crowded and has slightly questionable practices. It started nobely - taking in lemurs who couldn't go back into the wild. Now? It's more petting zoo. 

I meet my guide for Lemur Island and I make it clear: I don't want to encourage lemurs to jump on me, I don't want to touch them, and I will practice Manatee Rules: you can't touch them, but if they touch you, it's cool. 

Our first encounter: a family of black and white ruffed. Mama and baby are curled up asleep, but Papa is all up in our business. He reaches out and tries to grab my arm. I nearly die.

The we meet my beloved Common Browns. They are the most habituated lemur on the island. And yes, they will jump right on to your shoulder. I vowed. VOWED. To not take a lemur selfie. But there it is. I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry. This handsome devil followed me all through the island until...

I get the special tour. My guide brings me to the edge of the island, which overlooks the other island that people don't get to go to. That's where they have Bamboo Lemur, Diademed, and... RED FUCKING RUFFED. I am happily taking pictures from across the way when he tells me to stay put. I do. 10 minutes later? He paddles up in a canoe and tells me to get in. And we paddle to the other island.

Now. I don't leave the canoe, and I sure as shit don't even attempt to touch the lemurs there. But I get within inches of Bamboo Lemur, Diademed, and Red Ruffed. And in some crazy miracle no other tourist arrives while I am there. It starts pouring rain again so we paddle back to the dock, I depart, tip my guide well, and head back to the lodge for lunch.

After lunch I decide to go explore the lodge property. I set off with just my camera. Leave my phone behind. No water. 

I start wandering and see a sign in French and I follow. It soon becomes apparent that no one has used this trail in some time. A normal person would turn back. Obviously all is well that ends well, but yeah, I won't be going on an impromptu hike into the woods for 2 hours without more than my camera.

I'm currently warming myself by the fire in the lodge. Munching on amazing Malagasy peanuts. Sipping on leftover wine. And feeling that usual bittersweetness that happens when I travel: I'm so ready to go home...but I also don't want to leave.

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

Sherlock “The Final Problem” Observations

1.

Jim Moriarty has to be the smoothest motherfucker in the fictional world. He just does it so well! It takes a certain amount of class to be like that, and yet Andrew really pulls it off. I’ve admittedly missed him.

He was fun.

Jim could somehow get it on with a peach and it would seem perfectly normal and even expected thanks to Andrew’s impeccable acting.

2.

Mycroft is sitting alone in the dark, watching an old film and giggling like a damn dork as he mouths the words like he’s some fucking genius. So damn proud of himself.

And then that tiny smile when he sees the old video of his family from years back. As if he’s shocked to see it and shocked to be moved by it.

And then ‘I’m Back’ has to fuck it up. Just when the Ice Man was getting the #FEELS someone has to ruin it! I was so ready to squeal!

Though the joke itself was kind of funny it thankfully got rid of that shitty ass, poor-foreplay-filled film he was watching. Good Christ that was painful.

And then Mycroft literally goes and proves me RIGHT! For years I have lived with the belief that there was a weapon of some sort in that umbrella and I feel so very fucking brilliant! Why else would he carry it around ALL the time?

Mycroft lives in this big ass house that is literally decorated out the ass with unnecessary shit. That’s gotta be effin lonely, good Lord. The open space, the vacancy. It’s kind of sad to see how lonely the British Government is without him even realizing it.

John and Sherlock are dicks. All is right in their world.

For now.

3.

Bill ‘The Wig’ Wiggins gets another mention!

Though seriously, wtf is with the fandom in forgetting who he is? Like, how many posts labeled him as some ‘nameless junkie’ in “The Lying Detective”?

He may be a drug addict, but he’s a brilliant Chemist that even Sherlock takes seriously. Give the guy a break. Doing drugs or alcohol doesn’t make you any less of a person. They just make you a person who might need some help and self control.

4.

Mycroft: This is a private matter.

John: *moves to get up*

Sherlock: John stays.

Mycroft: This is family.

Sherlock: THAT’S WHY HE STAYS!

John: *tiny half smile at his notepad*

This part was really touching because it’s Sherlock showing an insistence that John is important to him and that of all the people he wants with him while he’s learning such intense things about himself, he wants John to be there.

No offense, but choosing your friend over your blood relations is a very important action.

Sherlock’s icy indifference had been chipped away by John a little at a time, until he feels comfortable enough to admit in front of his brother, who thinks that ‘caring is not an advantage’, that he thinks of his best friend as family first and foremost.

That sociopathic exterior just slowly gets further and further away.

5.

Mycroft is 7 years older than Sherlock. Sherlock is one year older than Eurus. Sherls was the middle child. It literally explains so much. Being the middle child sucks.

6.

Mrs Hudson rocking away to heavy metal while hoovering is probably the coolest thing. The Aston Martin was awesome, but her musical taste is wow. I love her and I want her as an honorary Nana.

7.

John: Oscar Wilde.

Mycroft: What?

John: He said, ‘the truth is rarely pure and never simple’. *breaths deeply* It’s... The Importance of Being Earnest. We did it in school.

Mycroft: So did we, now I recall. I was Lady Bracknell.

Sherlock: Yeah. You were great.

Mycroft: You really think so?

Sherlock: Yes, I really do.

Mycroft: That’s good to know. I’ve always wondered.

Sherlock: *looks down* *whispers* Good luck, boys.

God, the suspense killed me. And I swear that little brotherly exchange was sad.

8.

Eurus knew Bach from a second of sound. That’s awesome. I play games like that to test my musical knowledge and am nowhere near as good. She’s like a bloody computer.

9.

The whole glass bit was pretty interesting. It’s an optical illusion catered to one specific direction. If he were to come at her from a different angle, he would have noticed the odd cut in the signs.

You see what you expect to see. Why would a major facility not have a dangerous person behind a glass wall?

He wasn’t observing.

10.

John being the one to notice whose voice was on the recording is great. Mycroft, Mr. Genius couldn’t even tell.

I like it when John is given a chance to prove that he too can pay attention. That he can observe like Mycroft and Sherlock. Of course it lands them in deep shit, but it’s still nice all the same.

John isn’t some rug to be walked on and he’s not just a sidekick.

11.

Jim is ‘relatable’. And to be frank he really is which is so not fair!

“The Hungry Donkey” is a fanfic I would love to read. Sorry, but Jim had a point. Putting a baby in a manger is literally asking for trouble.

12.

Sherlock asking John how he is when he wakes up is really sweet. Like, he’s considerate of John’s health so much and my feels...

Also, he teases John a lot. Teasing!

13.

Sherlock was moving on to calm the little girl down. He was trying to reassure her with praise for following instructions.

Watching his growth as a character is honestly so special and I love the obvious changes from season one.

14.

Mycroft being terrified to kill someone is probably the most humane thing I’ve seen from him. Like, he honestly lost his cool then and was unable to differentiate between the situations. And I think it shows more depth to his character and how he views the ‘world of goldfish’ truly.

If Mycroft was as detached and emotionless as he wants everyone to believe, then he wouldn’t show such feelings, especially in front of others.

Hiding his face in his hand and leaning against the wall so he doesn’t have to watch. Despite the power he controls and the danger he has probably had to become familiar with, he couldn’t handle it.

The erratic breathing and mild panic attack setting in.

Retching against the wall.

Mycroft has gone through a little character growth of his own. And while traumatic for him, I think it was necessary.

15.

“Today we are soldiers, Mycroft. Soldiers. And that means to hell with what happens to us!”-John Watson

In all honesty, the military is not a place for fun and games. While they glam it up with words like ‘serving your country’ or ‘helping the cause’, you are basically putting yourself in danger on a constant basis. You are working for a cause that you might not even know everything about, but you are going to give it your all because in the military, the good of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

Because you might one day have to throw yourself in the line of fire or throw yourself on a bomb to save your comrades. Military is not about you. You agree to shed who you are to make yourself a tool to be used for the ‘safety’ of your cause.

That is what it means to be a soldier. John is a soldier, and he realizes what is happening. And he knows that now is not the time for games and competitions. It’s about the good of the many being more important than the need of the few,

And it’s a lesson that Mycroft needs.

John has had at least one chance in each season to put Mycroft in his place and I like that this time wasn’t for the sake of a joke and one-upping him.

Mycroft needs to understand that not everything is a contest and being the ‘best’ isn’t always the best thing.

16.

The name of the person who was supposed to get the coffin, was on the lid. Mycroft has some sass in him somewhere. 

17.

Molly’s kitchens is a chef’s wet dream. I swear to God, I want everything in it. Everything I can and cannot see. Who would have thought that such a secluded woman would have such a state of the art kitchen?

But if she has this bomb ass kitchen, then she must be a cook of some sort. Why else would she need a house/flat with such a detailed room if she was practically incapable of cooking anything and wouldn’t need it?

So I headcanon that Molly is basically a great cook and likes to make morgue jokes to her food while she cooks it.

Her jumper was hideous though. We can’t have everything it seems.

It also sucks that Molly got dragged into it. Again. Like, can’t the girl have some damn peace and quiet in her life? Can’t she just relax?

And it’s incredibly sad because she was basically friend zoned before she had to confess her feelings for a man that won’t return them the way she wants.

Though she made him realize how incredibly hard it is to admit your feelings. Even if he doesn’t love her, he struggled to say those words. After he literally threw them about a moment prior, many times, he could not do it when put on the spot because she was his friend and he knew his insincerity would hurt her.

18.

To put ‘I Love You’ on a coffin is a bit macabre, isn’t it? It’s basically implying that the Love was dead before it truly began.

And that’s sad.

Especially when Sherlock began to emotionally trash the shit out of it because he was just that wrung out.

19.

“Brother mine.”

I am not well right now. He cares a lot. And I care a lot. And we all care too much. He tried to anger Sherlock in order to have Sherlock shoot him. He wanted his little brother to be able to keep his best friend this time, and that hurts.

And Sherlock shaking and being so sad and unable to do it. He cares too.

My #FEELS

Sherlock turning the gun on himself because he doesn’t want to shoot his big brother or his best friend.

RIP Melli.

20.

The trauma of having to realize that your childhood friend was killed by your own sister, is one thing.

But we as an audience now understand more about Sherlock. He re-wrote his own story because he didn’t like it. He couldn’t handle it. He didn’t want to. A common thing in those with PTSD.

Sherlock’s actions from then on were a reflection of his new attitude. His character in A Study In Pink makes more sense now.

And it’s probably the saddest thing to realize for him.

21.

Greg calling Sherlock a ‘good man’ is a nice way to come full circle from episode one of season one.

He called him Greg!

Sometimes I wondered if Sherlock actually knew his name but said wrong ones to annoy him. It’s a very Sherlock thing to do.

22.

“It is what it is.”

23.

Mummy Holmes looks to Sherlock and asks him for help. “You were always the grown up.”

Probably the best moment in Sherlock’s life. Like he’s somehow managed to be the more mature between he and Mycroft, in his parents’ eyes. More responsible. Level-headed. Which is ironic considering what happened in this episode.

24.

Sherlock and Eurus performing a duet.

Now, this is a bit strange for me to like especially after the emotional trauma she put them all through throughout the episode, but when I see Eurus, I don’t see a copy of Mycroft or Sherlock.

Sherlock was once a ‘machine’. If anything. Eurus is the machine, constantly working through variables in an effort to understand.

Sherlock’s emotions are what make him a great detective. Eurus has a great mind, but her lack of understanding for emotions are her downfall in a way. She’s not good with them, much like Mycroft, and so she remains to be like a computer.

A computer that needs heavy rewiring. And a de-bugging.

She is not well. She will not have a normal life.

“Genius needs an audience,” as Sherlock once said. She had no audience. She had no friends. She had nothing. No one. She was her own friend. And it didn’t do her any good.

On top of that, I’m not certain her situation was handled properly. It doesn’t seem like the best was done for her, and while I get limited options at the time, couldn’t they have done better as technology and the area of medicine progressed?

Sherlock playing a duet with her doesn’t mean he forgives her. Maybe he’s accepted what she’s done, and can understand her point of view now. Maybe he knows how unwell she truly is, and he pities her.

Or he’s genuinely interested in the sister who was pretty much gone from his life for at least 30 years.

The Holmes parents wanted to be in contact with her despite everything she’d done. What’s so off about Sherlock being curious? His entire memory was rearranged because of it. He has a right to be curious.

25.

MISS YOU

“Who you really are doesn’t matter.”

A lot of people have emotionally taken this phrase out of context. And I could honestly gripe about how pathetic it is, but my comment just now kind of explains my thoughts of almost everyone else’s thoughts, so I’ll continue on.

As always, people take only one part, instead of the whole.

“I know who you really are. A junkie who solves crimes to get high, and the soldier who never came back from the war.”

Mary lays it on them. The facts of who they are. Sherlock is an addict and he substitutes cocaine, for crime solving to keep his mind afloat and of use. Otherwise he’d been higher than a kite and eating chips all the time.

John was unable to transition into the life of a civilian. Much like other soldiers never truly do. You can take the soldier out of the war, but you cannot take the war out of the soldier, and this is a textbook case of it.

She broke them down past their titles and what everyone knows them as, to their basics. Who they really are.

And being a junkie isn’t considered cool. Having an addiction to adrenaline isn’t considered cool. Most would look down on such things if they knew the truth about Sherlock and John and their inner struggles and problems. They’d been deemed unstable. Awkward. Dangerous probably.

Two men who live together actively seeking danger and possibly life threatening circumstances constantly, in order to fulfill some kind of addiction they each have.

But Mary goes on to tell them that it doesn’t matter.

I have said many times that doing drugs or alcohol doesn’t make you a bad person. And a lot of people would look down on them for the truth of who they are, but Mary tells them it doesn’t matter. She knows them and who they can become. She understands both of them in ways that other people can’t.

It shouldn’t matter if someone is a junkie or if they suffer PTSD. It shouldn’t be their defining characteristic. We are more than our choices. Sherlock and John are more than their choices.

And to get all angry over something that simple is immature and as I previously stated, pathetic.

26.

John spraying the new smiley face on the wall.

I lowkey thought he and Mrs Hudson were annoyed by it, but he literally re-sprays it on the new wallpaper!

Sherlock shoots the wall again to be sure.

He then stabs the mantel, much to poor Mrs Hudson’s vexation.

27.

Sherlock and John living in 221B and raising Rosie together. And John smiling up at Sherlock. Yes. Seeing Sherlock going from trying to reason with a baby on how to keep a rattle, to bouncing her in his arms while he smiles, is great.

It’s a moment that I’ve wanted for years.

28.

Finally, my opinion of the Sherlock fandom has gone down since this season started. I never once had a problem until people started attacking me for liking the episodes. People literally mocking me for not believing that John cheated on his wife. And then turning around a week later claiming they didn’t believe it either. I had those blogs marked down and when I checked on them after “The Lying Detective” aired, I blocked every one of their lying asses.

Sherlock is a great show. A show about Sherlock Holmes primarily. Hence why the show is named after him. We see him in the beginning. We see him in the end. It’s his journey. His adventure.

In the last episode of season 4, Sherlock asked John if he was okay, several times. He wasn’t in any way concerned in A Study In Pink. He’s grown as a person by opening up with John.

I liked season 4. There was drama at every turn, little extra bits here and there that required another watch or 5, secrets and riddles that had to be solved. So many throwbacks to the books and former shows, like usual int he show.

I was happy with everything. As a GenderFluid Pansexual, I was not insulted. I didn’t ‘feel attacked’ by anything in Sherlock. I wasn’t phased in the least by anything. I don’t consider anything ‘queerbaiting’ or a ‘spit on the LGBTQ+ Community’. We got Irene for God’s sake! Sexy Lesbian Dominatrix who is smarter than Sherlock, more cunning than Mycroft, and assured in her own sexuality and self. And she wasn’t killed off.

There’s this strange western concept that sex and kissing proves that two people love each other. Romance doesn’t not depend on gender. So unless you’re telling me you’re in love with someone’s genitals, cut the shit.

I don’t need them to kiss. I need them together, happy, doing what both of them love, looking out for each other, and being the pillar the other needs. And if they were opposite genders, this would have immediately been considered canonical conformation of Joanlock. But it’s like it’s only canon if the men kiss for everyone to see.

A kiss doesn’t mean you love someone. Moving to shoot yourself so you don’t have to choose between who to shoot, is a bigger declaration of love.

The words ‘I love you’ are bandied about constantly. They have no meaning in my book. I look to actions to show me how someone feels. So telling someone you love them is easy(if you’re not Molly). But offering to give your life for them isn’t easy.

I take that to be important. I take the emotional support between them as my confirmation.

And if the majority of the fandom wants to throw a fit and continue to be depressed, then do so. But don’t count me in on it.

I’m restricting my contact to the fandom on Tumblr. Shockingly, Tumblr ended up being the cesspool of hate from the Sherlock fandom, out of all the possible sites to cause drama.

So many fandoms are disgusted by BBC Sherlock right now. So many people glad to have not been dragged in ever, as they witness people being attacked in just the past day alone. Their feeds and dashboards filled with blatant harassment between bloggers who can’t grow up.

It’s gotten ridiculous and I don’t want to be a part of it when there are so few people left who actually use their brains.

The Sherlock Fandom has become just like the Twilight Fandom. Congrats. You’ve put me off to fandom happenings and ensured many don’t want to get to know the show we supposedly love so much. And you confirmed the beliefs of a lot of others, over the ‘pretentious assholes’ that make up the Sherlock fandom.