#like even more so than holmes frankly

[skyriderwednesday]

Four chapters into Hound of the Baskervilles...

Dr Mortimer is a Strange Little Man*.

Literally two seconds after meeting Holmes, "I confess that I covet your skull"--

(*: actually Watson describes him as 'very tall', but being a Strange Little Man has nothing to do with stature.)

[musicalmoritz]

Some funny and cute head canon between hanako/amane and tsushigomori?

Yayayay I love their dynamic sm. The father/son duo ever. I’m gonna do a mix of Amane and Hanako headcanons bcuz their relationship at any point is so sweet to me

• So for AUs I think it’s super cute when ppl have Tsuchigomori adopt Amane (+Tsukasa)- or at least it would be, I don’t think I’ve seen any actual fics like that lmao. But for canon it’s definitely more of a “teacher you accidentally call dad” dynamic

• I still view Tsuchigomori as a father figure to Hanako but I think they’d both be very reluctant to admit it. I feel the need to specify that because fandoms tend to take parent/child dynamics and make them into super traditional families, which can be cute in AUs but sometimes for canon it takes away the nuance

• It’s the same as when I call Teru Kou’s dad, there’s more to it than that. Yes he is Hanako’s father, yes he is his teacher. Two things can be true at once

• Okay now that that’s out of the way, onto the headcanons

• Circling back to the first point, Hanako has accidentally called Tsuchigomori “dad” twice. Once as Amane, and once as Hanako

• As Amane it was a very emotionally heavy moment, when Tsuchigomori finished bandaging him up as usual. He gave him a mini lecture on standing up for himself, and Amane let out a quiet “Thanks, Dad”

• The minute he realized what he said, he bolted out of that classroom. He wouldn’t talk after that until Tsuchigomori reassured him they could just forget about it

• As Hanako it was more of a comical moment. He was hanging out with Tsuchigomori and Yako, annoying them as usual, but as he was getting ready to ditch them he said “See ya later, Dad”

• Everyone froze until Yako started laughing her ass off. Hanako quickly tried to cover it up but Yako wasn’t willing to forget it as easily as Tsuchigomori had been that first time, so he had to hide out in his bathroom for quite some time

• Yako started calling Tsuchigomori “Dad” too whenever she wanted to mess with him

• Tsuchigomori would try to help Amane make friends by pairing him with other kids for group projects. This always backfired, seeing as Amane had trouble socializing and was an easy target for bullying

• Sometimes he still tries to get Mitsuba and Mei to hang out with the kid so that he has more than two friends (one of which is his girlfriend)

• But progress is still progress and he’s obvi very happy to see that Hanako has made friends

• Hanako hangs out in Tsuchigomori’s office whenever he’s bored or sad

• When he’s bored he’ll just annoy him, telling him unfunny jokes and going on long tangents about whatever comes to mind. Tsuchigomori complains but never seriously attempts to kick him out

• When he’s sad about something, he’ll usually just sit at one of the desks or in the corner curled up in a ball. Tsuchigomori doesn’t comment on it, but he might give him a blanket and some candy, or a book to read

• Hanako tries to go to Tsuchigomori for advice on Nene, but Tsuchigomori’s love life is, frankly, pathetic, so really he’s the one who needs advice

• Some of the only times Hanako isn’t floating is when he’s running in the halls to provoke Tsuchigomori

• Every year on Father’s Day, Hanako brings Tsuchigomori a rock. He started this tradition as Amane and has kept it up all these years

• That’s not to say he didn’t love his bio dad, but he wanted to show appreciation for the teacher that looked out for him too

• Before they left school at the end of every day, Tsukasa would thank Tsuchigomori for “babysitting” Amane

• Hanako’s favorite books are the Sherlock Holmes series so Tsuchigomori lets him know every time the school gets a new copy

• He used to draw little smiley faces on Amane’s papers when he’d get a perfect score

• Amane would stay after school for tutoring even though he didn’t need it whenever things got too tense at home with Tsukasa and his parents

• Hanako frequently asks Tsuchigomori to update him on recent scientific discoveries. If anything major happens, Tsuchigomori will give him reading material

• Tsuchigomori was the one who taught Hanako how to use a computer

• Amane was always deathly afraid of asking questions or raising his hand in class, so if he had any comments he’d reserve them for when the rest of the students left (another method he used to delay going home)

• Amane strikes me as one of those kids who ate lunch with the teacher (ik it’s common for Japanese students to eat in their classrooms but this would be true even when his other classmates decided to eat somewhere else for the day)

• Before Nene came along, Tsuchigomori would encourage Hanako to clean his own bathrooms by giving him science and mystery books as allowance

• For Christmas one year, Tsuchigomori bought Hanako a toy rocket

• When Hanako needs to be cheered up, Tsuchigomori and Yako will play astronaut with him. Sometimes Yako pretends to be an alien, sometimes she’s part of the space crew, it depends on the plot

• Whenever Tsuchigomori is showing his class a movie, Hanako will sit in and watch

• Tsuchigomori has absolutely written “a pleasure to have in class” on one of Amane’s report cards

Okay I’m gonna end it there, ty for this ask I rly enjoyed talking abt them :D

[watchmegetobsessed]

❄️DEAR HARRY❄️

A/N: how crazy that we are on week 3 already?? i hope you guys are seriously getting into the holiday spirit!!

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

SUMMARY: You become penpals with a cute boy in middle school. You fall for him while he becomes an international rockstar, but will you ever actually meet him?

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This fic is part of ❄️ FANFICmas 2022 ❄️ Read more about fanficmas here!

“Y/N! You got a letter!”

You have never sped down faster than at that moment. You’ve been anticipating that letter more than anything and quite frankly, you never thought receiving a letter would ever feel this exciting.

But it does. And it’s all because of a boy you have never even met.

“Gimme!” you exclaim as you run up to your mother, grabbing the letter from her before she could even hold it out for you and you are already on your way back to your room to read it and probably memorize every word of it.

Throwing yourself onto the bed you take a look at the handwriting on the envelope, your smile growing wider before you open it and pull out the paper.

Dear Y/N,

I have news for you! But I will only reveal them to you at the end of the letter. And don’t cheat! Don’t read ahead!

This week has been boring so far, we had a math quiz and I didn’t do too well, but it’s okay. If only you lived here, you could tutor me, but I’m left with my sister who is definitely not fit to be a teacher. She is so impatient and gets angry when I don’t understand something.

How did you do on your science project? I bet yours was the best and I’m convinced you’ll be a scientist one day. A scientist with a coffee shop. That’s an awesome pairing, don’t you think?

It’s been raining a lot here so I haven’t been out that much. Mum said it probably won’t change for a while.

And now the exciting news… Drumroll please! Are you ready?... I’m going to be on the X-Factor! Crazy, right? But I finally applied and I got a date for my first audition. It’s not the one you see on TV just yet, I only get there if I pass this first round, so wish me luck. Don’t worry, I won’t stop sending you letters even when I’m a big star. You’ll always be my favorite penpal!

I can’t wait to read your next letter!

Love, Harry

You read it over and over again until you can recite the whole thing almost word to word. Then you grab a paper and write your letter right away, putting it aside when it’s done so you can neatly fold Harry’s letter into the box that has all his previous ones. Eighty-seven, to be exact.

You’ve been penpals since last year. Your teachers were friends in college and they loved matching up their classes every year, turning them into penpals and making them send a few mails as a task so kids experience what it was like when there was no internet. You didn’t think much of the task and never expected to make a friend out of it.

But then you got paired with a boy named Harry, who lives in Holmes Chapel.

The first few letters were awkward and both of you just wanted the task to be over. But then you started sharing more and more with each other and kept up with the letters even when the task was over and they haven’t stopped, not even over a year later.

You have no idea what he looks or sounds like, you haven’t exchanged phone numbers, you both agreed you wouldn’t do that until your 100th letter, which is now approaching. Still, you feel like he is your best friend, better than the ones you see every day. And maybe it’s starting to feel more than a friendship, but can you fall for someone you have never even met?

 

You finish the drink in your hand, wait for the girl next to you to get to the end of the story she’s been telling your group. You came down to this little dorm party willing to socialize and make new friends, but you feel like a total outsider and you really don’t want to stay any longer. There are other things you’d rather do right now. Or at least one thing.

Trying your best to stay unnoticed, you slip out of the basement where the party is being held and head up to your room on the third floor. Your college experience hasn’t been like the ones you saw in movies, if you’re being honest, but you’re hoping it will get better in time.

The building feels empty outside of the basement, everyone is down there, having a blast while you can’t wait to return to your room. You’re roommate is either at the party too or maybe she is out with her friends, whichever it is, she’s not there when you get back to your room.

Throwing yourself down to the bed you grab your phone and type out a quick message to the only person you always want to talk to.

Y/N: What time is it where you are? Are you up?

You don’t expect him to answer right away, but his reply comes just moments after your message.

HARRY: Call?

You smile at how he ignored your questions and then start a call. He answers after the first ring.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at a party?” he asks instantly.

“I didn’t like it,” you shrug.

“You said that about the last three parties you went to. You’ll never meet people if you just sit around in your dorm room, Y/N.”

“Didn’t know I called my mother,” you mumble under your breath, which makes him laugh.

“Sorry… I’m just… worried. I want you to have fun.”

“Let’s talk about the fun you’re having. Tell me, where are you today?”

“New York. But I’m leaving tomorrow to LA. And don’t think you successfully changed the subject, we’ll get back to your social distancing.”

“LA, wow!” you pretend to be so into it, even though he’s been there a million times before. “Work stuff?”

“You could say that. There is this thing…”

You listen to him talk, he could be saying anything and you’d have him talk for hours, you wouldn’t get enough of his voice. After all, he’s a singer, it’s no surprise his voice is so soothing, though deep down you know you like it for a different reason.

It’s kind of ridiculous. You’re in love with a guy you’ve known since you were fourteen, but you’ve never met and in the meantime he also turned into an international rockstar, so the whole world knows him. It took the two of you almost two years to have your first phone call instead of sending letters. You still remember the first time you heard his voice over the phone, how he said your name and how you could barely get a word out at first. Now you text and call all the time though you’re still yet to meet.

You like to say it’s just how things turned out so far, that you could just never match a date to meet up, but in reality, you’re too scared to meet him, it would make it all too real and you fear he wouldn’t like you if you stood in front of him. So you remain in this bubble, where he is your friend far away who is also a celebrity. But to you, he’s just Harry, your old penpal.

“Promise me something, Y/N.” His tone turns serious and you bite your bottom lip before answering him.

“Okay.”

“Make at least one friend by the end of the semester.”

“Is that my homework?” you try to joke.

“I’m serious,” he breathes out. “I hate knowing that you’re there all alone.

“I do have friends. You’re my friend.”

“But I’m not there. You need someone to go to the library with, have lunch together and all that stuff. Please, promise me you’ll try, okay? Or I will have to take matters into my own hands.”

“Uh, what’s that supposed to mean?” you frown.

“I will fly over to you, no matter what and show up with you so people will want to get to know you.”

“Oh, so you’ll use your fame to get me friends who are only interested in you?” you laugh.

“Exactly, so you better get a friend yourself!”

“Okay, you got me. I will… try.”

“That’s good enough. I gotta go now. Talk to you later?”

“Sure. Call me whenever your schedule loosens up,” you tease him, hearing his laugh on the other end of the call.

“Will do.”

 

“Are you sure you’re okay? Because I could come over, make a woodoo doll for Mark and poke the shit out of him.”

You chuckle at Hilde’s suggestion as you sink further into your couch.

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“Okay, but I’m taking you out for lunch tomorrow. I’m not letting you lock yourself up in your cave just because a dumbass with a receding hairline dumped you.”

“God, Hilde, will you ever run out of the mean comments about him?” you laugh in disbelief. You knew she wasn’t too fond of him, but she’s been extremely, aggressively mean towards him since the two of you broke up two days ago. You can’t believe you thought her to be an angelic, shy girl when you met her in college. It must have been those Scandinavian features, her blonde hair and blue eyes tricked you for sure when you sat next to her at the cafeteria. Hilde is the friend you made because Harry forced you to meet someone and you hate to admit it, but your life wouldn’t be the same without her. She’s the only friend you made in college and luckily, she’s still in your life, three years after graduation.

“I have a whole notebook full of them,” she proudly says. “Alright, I have to go now, but call me if you feel like you want to cry after Mark. He doesn’t deserve your tears, so we have to prevent that.”

“I promise,” you smile softly.

“I’ll be at yours tomorrow at one. Bye!”

The smile fades from your face as soon as the call ends and you settle back into your loneliness. If anyone saw you, they would think it’s because of the breakup, but deep down you know it’s not the reason.

Yes, it’s shitty that you dated someone for almost an entire year and they dumped you over the phone, but that’s not what hurts the most. You’re alone. Well, Hilde is always there for you, but you can’t turn to the person who was your biggest support in the past decade. Your failed relationship is just a reminder that you will never have the same kind of feelings for anything like you had for Harry. No matter what went down with Mark, you always knew he wasn’t the one.

Because he wasn’t Harry.

Unlocking your phone you scroll down in the messages until you find the last one you sent to Harry. It’s been over a year and you still miss him.

There was no fight, no one hurt anyone, you just had a fall-out around the time he started dating some model. The messages came less and less often, he missed your phone calls and took a long time to respond whenever you sent him a picture of something you thought he would appreciate. His actions spoke loud and you didn’t want to be the annoying friend who doesn’t get a hint. He just started his solo career, things were going great for him, he didn’t have time to keep in touch with the penpal he had when he was a teenager.

So you stopped trying and eventually, everything stopped.

And you miss him probably too much, but you can’t help it. You keep catching yourself wondering if he thinks about you too, if he sees something and it reminds him of you, because it happens to you all the time.

You’ve wanted to text him a million times since the radio silence has started, but talked yourself down every time. He is a celebrity, he has way too many things to do than to catch up with you, that’s if he even answered your message. His number might not even be the same.

You regret never meeting him. Now you’ll never know what it feels like to hug him, to see him smile in real life, to smell his scent. He’ll remain just his letters you still have under your bed and the memories you have of your phone calls.

Seeking closure you grab a paper and pen and write one last letter to him.

Dear Harry…

 

You can’t mask your shock as you stare down at the letter you just took out of your mail box. You recognize the handwriting right away, but you never thought you’d ever see it again, not on an envelope at least.

It takes you several minutes to snap out of your initial shock and rush up to your apartment, holding the letter to your chest as if it was your most precious treasure and in the meanwhile you think back at the date you sent out that last letter to Harry.

It’s been six months.

It took him six months for him to reply to a letter you didn’t even think he would ever read. What happened? Did he only get it now? Or did he hesitate for this long before deciding to reply? You have so many questions and you might get a few answers from the letter.

You drop down to your couch and open the envelope with shaking hands, pulling the neatly folded paper out.

Dear Y/N…

 

“You look disgustingly happy, have I told you that?” Hilde comments and you roll your eyes at her.

“Yes. Like a million times before.”

“Okay, then I will just keep saying it.”

“I thought you’d be happy to see me like this, you’ve been nagging me about him for years!” you tell her off teasingly.

“I am happy! But I didn’t think you’d radiate like this! Though I should have expected, you are so hopelessly in love with that man,” she sighs. “I can’t believe it took you guys fourteen years to finally arrange a meeting, what the fuck?”

“It’s not that dramatic,” you tell her, finishing up putting the mugs away. It’s the 23rd of December, you’re just an hour away from closing up so it’s just two customers and Hilde left in the café. Soon everyone will be gone and Harry will arrive to meet you for the very first time in real life.

It’s been a long journey up to this point. After your farewell letter you didn’t think you’d ever talk to him, but then six months later you got another letter from him. Since then, you figured out what took so long. You sent the letter to his old address, but his mum has moved away for a while now. Luckily, the new owner was kind enough to track Anne down and give her the letter, but it took some time for that to happen. Then it took about two months for Anne to give it to Harry, she kept forgetting about it until he was finally home and she could just hand it over when she remembered she still had it. Then came some hesitation, but it was just a week before Harry decided to write to you.

And then you started talking again.

He apologized for being so distant, he said his then girlfriend didn’t appreciate the tight friendship he had with you and it didn’t take long to get back to where you were before the fall-out.

Now it’s been a year and the moment has finally come. It’s time to meet in person and you feel better about it than ever. Probably because the two of you have definitely passed being just friends.

The flirty texts started about a month after you reconnected and they’ve been building up ever since. All your doubts that Harry could never see you as more than just a friend has vanished and now you’re just patiently waiting for the big moment to happen.

“We can’t change what happened now,” you shrug.

“Yeah. Now he’ll have a great story to tell at talk shows about how he met his girlfriend!” she snorts out a laugh.

“I’m not his girlfriend!” you protest, but your heart skips a beat at the word.

“But you will be when you leave this place tonight, hopefully with him, heading up to your place to make up for all the sex you missed in the past decade.”

“Hilde!” you chuckle, throwing a rug at her.

Soon the café empties out, Hilde helps you closing and she heads out to give you some peace before Harry is set to arrive. As you’re left alone, you take a look around the place and you can’t help but feel content with your life.

You opened the café last year, an old dream of yours that’s now finally reality. It’s small and took almost all of your savings to start the business, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s decorated with Christmas lights and ornaments, one of your employees, Krissy did it, she’s obsessed with the holidays so you let her go all out. Now it looks like a tiny winter wonderland, setting the perfect mood for your first time meeting Harry.

You can’t help but feel nervous. What will he think of you? Will he think you’re just like on the photos he’s seen of you? Or are you different? Is he nervous too?

You arrange a little setup on one of the tables, some freshly baked cookies and two mugs of hot chocolate. Everything looks perfect and he could be here anytime.

A car pulls up in front of the building and your heart skips a beat when you see him get out of it with a bouquet of roses in his hands. He doesn’t notice you through the windows, so you can have a good look at him before he comes inside.

He seems to take a few moments to himself, checking his hair in the mirror before taking a deep breath and nodding to himself. Seeing him like this, nervous like you makes you smile.

Then he turns to face the café and he spots you through the glass of the door and your eyes meet for the first time. For a few seconds you just stare at each other, bask in the moment before you both break out in smiles and he walks inside, stopping by the door, a few feet away from you.

“Hi,” he breathes out and you swear his voice sounds a million times better than on the phone or any video you’ve seen of him.

“Hi,” you chuckle and your legs start moving before you could even think.

You throw yourself into his arms and he catches you with ease, holding you tight and suddenly, you know this is where you belong.

“God, it’s so good to hold you, Y/N,” he chuckles, burying his face into your neck. You want to say the same, but it’s so overwhelming that you can just laugh and hold him tighter.

You have no idea how long you stay like that, wrapped up in each other, hours could have passed by and you wouldn’t have noticed. All you feel and see is Harry.

“It’s really you,” he chuckles when you pull apart at last and he can take a better look at you.

“I should be saying that, I was the one talking to a celebrity! You could have been a catfish all along!” you laugh as you soak him in, standing in the middle of your tiny café. “Um, come sit. I made cookies and… hot chocolate.”

“And I brought you these,” he holds out the roses for you that you take with a lovesick smile, placing them onto the counter before the two of you settle at the table you set.

You sit and talk and talk for hours, tell each other everything you’ve written about and the things you didn’t. Words and stories flow so easily, it’s like you’ve spent every waking moment by each other this past fourteen years. You cherish how you’re able to touch his arm and hand and he barely looks away from you, as if the sight of you has put a spell on him.

“Oh wow, it’s past midnight,” you snap out of the bubble you’ve been sitting in, realizing just how late it has gotten.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstay my welcome.” His eyes widen, but you just chuckle, shaking your head.

“You didn’t. It’s just that I have to be here by six thirty to open.”

“Oh shit, then… we should get going?” he suggests. “I can drive you home.”

“That would be great, thank you. Let me just bring these back to the kitchen,” you gesture at the empty mugs and plates.

“Let me help,” he offers, but you shake your head no.

“It’s alright, I can do it.”

You stack them all together and then bring them back, just tossing them into the sink. You’ll deal with them in the morning. When you walk out, you find Harry inspecting the place with a tiny smile.

“You really made this happen,” he says. “I remember when you wrote about wanting to start your own business when we were sixteen.”

“Well, it took me over a decade, but yeah,” you chuckle softly.

“I’m proud of you,” he says, his gaze meeting yours as he steps closer to you. “You’ve achieved so much. I just wish I could be next to you on the way.”

You catch a hint of disappointment flashing through his expression, but you don’t want him to blame himself. The fall-out might have been his fault mostly, but before that, it was you who avoided meeting him at any cost. Maybe things would have turned out different if you just met as soon as possible.

You’ll never know. But it’s alright, because you have a second chance now.

“You can be here from now on,” you quietly say and you can feel the atmosphere change in an instant. “If… If you want to,” you add.

Harry steps closer again until there are only inches parting you from him. He reaches up and cups your cheek in his hand, his eyes snapping down at your lips when they part.

“There’s nothing I would want more,” he replies, his lips pressing against yours finally.

Suddenly, you’re a curious teenager again, whose heart threatens to jump out of her chest seeing a new letter. The excitement of opening the envelope, reading his words and then writing back to him as soon as possible, it’s all here now that there’s no distance between the two of you.

You belonged to him even before you met and you belong to him now that he is closer to you than ever before.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[starkraivennemad]

Roads Travelled

Anyone who claimed to know Mycroft Holmes well will tell you he is a cold-hearted man. Crystal cold and hard as a diamond. His cold blue-grey eyes miss little and can cut one down with a mere flick of a brow more than any diatribe could.  A man of true genius level intelligence who considers most of the world to be goldfish in comparison. They will tell you this because only a hard cold man could do his job.

A thankless, ruthless clandestine job dealing in the backend shadow world of politics – in the secret rooms where things really happen. Rooms that the world at large is much better off not knowing exists.  A tall, elegant man of three-piece bespoke suits and shoes who prefers pocket to wrist watches. he carries himself as one above it all and he will frankly tell you he is.  And while none of this is a lie, it is not entirely the truth.

And there are exactly three people he knows for a fact loves him and has that love reciprocated: his parents, and despite the façade they present to the world that it is otherwise, his younger brother, Sherlock.

At least until very recently that is.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Mycroft hissed at the sharp pain swiftly delivered to his ankle via the shoe of his dinner companion. 

Mycroft can scarce believe there was a time he loathed Gregory Lestrade’s presence. Now he cannot get enough of seeing the detective inspector. And he would not lie to himself that he would not mind seeing more of the man. But he knew men like Gregory: intelligent, solid, trustworthy, salt of the earth, and inherently good; would not have interest in a stalwart, cold fish genius such as himself. So, Mycroft kept his feeling to himself. The hard-won friendship forged over the years with him was more than he ever dreamed. He accepted this was as good as it could get, he dared not wish for me.

Though he could have done without the swift kick, even if he did deserve it for comparing a horrid tie Gregory once owned to the color of infant upswallow.

“Did what?” Gregory looked him blatantly in the face with all the innocence he could. It was an innocence belied by warm socked foot that then soothed the kicked area.

A stunned Mycroft found himself frozen in place as the same foot went from soothing the sore area from through his trouser, to lifting the trouser to making contact directly. “And I really cannot believe you’re doing that!”

“You’re imagining things, mate.” Gregory sipped his water with the same innocence as he removed his foot altogether. “I don’t know what will happen, but perhaps you need to ease up on the wine.”

Mycroft grabbed his serviette, nearly choking on his own water at the inelegant snort that bubbled forth from Gregory at Mycroft’s look of incredulousness. Neither man had touched a drop of alcohol. In fact, none was on the table.

With a shock the enormity of what Gregory had done, and that he had allowed it, hit him. He allowed it because he secretly wanted it. The serviette then hid the partial flush that surfaced when forced to admit to himself that he missed the warm socked toes that rubbed along his leg and longed for that contact again.

Along with some other places he had had been recently wishing the detective inspector would make contact.

Then he realized: Gregory Lestrade openly flirted(!) with HIM!

And Mycroft’s world shifted on its axis as he stared at the man.

“Oooh… I could be wrong, Mycroft, but you look like you could use a sip now.” Gregory raised a hand and ordered two glasses of scotch.

“Epiphanies by law should automatically drop with a healthy serving of alcohol.” Mycroft mused.

“Oh?” Gregory raised a curious brow. “And what epiphany has yon mind break?”

For the briefest of moments Mycroft considered subterfuge. To hide behind the wall of friendship.

But it was Gregory who sledgehammered that wall with a mere socked toe. He knew the man well enough to understand Gregory would have never done so were he not already sure of his footing so to speak.

The next step had to be his.

“That I want to travel a road…” Mycroft looked to Gregory with a soft smile. ”And you reciprocate.”

The two men stared at each other for a moment – their truths quietly laid bare between them.

“I… I’ve known of my want for nearly a year.” Gregory finally admitted shyly. “I did not know for sure that I cracked the crystal until just now.”

“Cracked the crystal? Gregory, I think I would know if you’ve ever…” Mycroft was about to insist he has never been kissed by Gregory ever, let alone anything more just now when that warm foot made contact once more in a slow slide that again raised his trouser leg and teased the shin. “…oh.”

“Indeed.” Gregory winked saucily. “I believe I have your atten- Oh!”

Mycroft enjoyed the sound of Greg’s light gasp of surprise when he reached down and grabbed his foot by the ankle. Greg tried to pull his foot back, but Mycroft had a solid hold. He waited and watched as Greg’s warm eyes grew dark at the show of strength. Mycroft then gently rested Greg’s foot upon his knee and stroked along the calf under the trousers. He knew Greg was aware he could easily move his foot away, but does not.

“I believe I have your attention.” Mycroft raised an auburn brow as two glasses of very expensive scotch was placed before them.

Gregory always sat akimbo in an armless seat and Mycroft took complete advantage.

He waited until the glass touched Greg’s lip and grinned evilly as he placed own his socked foot onto Greg’s chair where one could not possibly mistake his intent as he ran his socked foot along Greg’s inner thigh and stopped just short of the man’s crotch.

“...Indeed, you do…” Greg said carefully.

The two quietly sipped their drinks.

Greg scooted down slightly in the seat, his movements smooth, as he pressed his crotch unto Mycroft’s foot. Their eyes did not break contact as an emboldened Mycroft, of course, felt – everything.

“If I asked something of you, Mycroft, would you grant it?” Greg asked with a heated look that pinned Mycroft in place.

His foot stilled. He did not give it a second’s thought before he responded, “Anything…”

Greg ran his tongue along the lip of his glass before he spoke. “I want to know what you look like naked in the moonlight when your toes curl and your palms are filled with sheets gripped tight.”

There were many, many, oh so many things Mycroft Holmes has imagined Gregory Lestrade would say to him.

That was not even close.

But oh, it was better. So much better.

“Mine is a road upon which few have travelled.” Mycroft quietly admitted. “And not in recent years.”

“I like that the road is less travelled… As is mine.” Greg considered Mycroft’s words, “Yours is a road that I have longed to travel for some time. But none will travel your roads like me.”

“I reciprocate…” Mycroft smiled warmly at the man who smiled shyly at him. “It is a road that has awaited your travel for some time.”

By silent agreement, feet were lowered and placed back into their respective shoe as Mycroft signaled for the check.

By morning both roads were quite travelled.

--------------------------------------------------------

Read/Comment on AO3

Facebook Mystrade is Our Division #mystradedialogueprompt: "I don't know what will happen."

Also to include lines from a poem by Tyler Knott Gregson: Typewriter Series #693

[twistedtummies2]

Top 10 Portrayals of Mycroft Holmes

In my last couple lists for the supporting cast of Sherlock Holmes, I discussed two of his closest allies: Mrs. Hudson and Inspector Lestrade. It’s now time for another of his allies, though perhaps the most begrudging of them all: his elder brother, Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft is an intriguing character, because there are essentially two completely different ways to portray him. In the original books, Mycroft is declared to be even smarter than Sherlock is, which is already quite interesting. What makes him even more fascinating, however, is the reveal of his career: Mycroft “IS the British Government.” He’s the head of political and military intelligence, his power seemingly second only to the Prime Minister and the Royal Family themselves. With so much power and brilliance, one would expect Mycroft to be a rather imposing figure…but in Conan Doyle’s stories, the character is actually depicted a sort of comical figure. Mycroft is a sort of stereotypical, pompous bureaucrat in the books; like Sherlock, he’s a trifle eccentric, as well as rather pompous and slightly foppish in demeanor. The humor comes from his blustering attitude and exaggerated rotundity, which are completely at odds with the potential for something more dangerous when you realize what and who he really is. As a result of this dichotomy, different reimaginings and adaptations of Mycroft tend to gravitate more towards one side or the other: some versions play the character very much in the Conan Doyle vein, as a comically uppercrust caricature. Others, however, have focused much more on his political prowess, making him a much more serious character, with the humor stemming now from his dandy manners and the relationship he has with his brother. In the books, Sherlock and Mycroft have a SLIGHT sibling rivalry, but they actually seem to get along fairly well; most reinterpretations, however, really play up that rivalry and have the two constantly at each other’s throats…but when push comes to shove, that brotherly love still shines through. With so many different ways to handle Mycroft, choosing my favorites was rather difficult: this duality to the character and the way he’s been portrayed means that he is both easy to mess up and yet hard to mess up at the same time, if you can imagine such a paradox. I think, however, that the choices I’ve made are more or less finite, though a few may rise or fall on the scale depending on my mood, more than anything else. With that said, here are My Top 10 Portrayals of Mycroft Holmes!

10. Rhys Ifans, from Elementary.

It took me a while to warm up to this version of Mycroft, but ultimately I did come to like him. In here, instead of being the head of British intelligence, Mycroft is simply an AGENT of said intelligence: he’s essentially this universe’s version of James Bond, a suave and classy spy for MI6, who works under the facade of a restauranteur. While I do have a few issues with this take on the character, overall I think it’s an interesting one; a big part of what makes him good comes from Ifans’ acting.

9. Robert Morley, from A Study in Terror.

This Mycroft COULD have been in my Top 5, at the very least, if he had a larger role. Morley is probably the most book-accurate take on Mycroft ever, but he’s only in the film for a couple of short minutes, and…well…frankly, he has absolutely NO purpose to be in the story at all. I feel like someone just included him BECAUSE they wanted to see Robert Morley play this character, and…fair play to them, I suppose, I’m glad it happened. I just wish he had more of a reason to be there, and more screentime in his pocket.

8. Peter Jeffrey, from Hands of a Murderer.

In this period remake of “The Woman in Green” (one of the Basil Rathbone films), Jeffrey’s Mycroft ends up being kidnapped by Professor Moriarty, who is seeking information he wishes to sell to enemy agents. (Which actually sounds similar to a completely different Rathbone movie, “Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon,” but I digress.) While his role is relatively peripheral, I enjoy Jeffrey’s work with the character, and they really play around wonderfully with the relationship between the two brothers.

7. Richard E. Grant, from Sherlock: Case of Evil.

While Mycroft’s role in this film is small, his presence is important: it’s revealed that part of the reason he is such a reclusive figure is because he was captured and tortured by Moriarty (after the previous pick, I’m sensing a pattern) during Sherlock’s first encounter with his arch-nemesis. Mycroft’s brain is as sharp as ever, but his body still bears scars. This is one of the most supportive takes on the character out there, and Grant plays him very well.

6. Boris Klyuyev, from The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes & Dr. Watson. 

Arguably one of the funniest versions of Mycroft, in my opinion. This Russian-made TV film series used Mycroft fairly often, and he was always fun to see in action, really leaning into the comedy of the character from the original stories, and even doing a few new things with him, such as having him help Mrs. Hudson during “The Tiger Hunt” (their adaptation of “The Empty House”). Very, very amusing to watch.

5. The Version from Moriarty the Patriot.

This version takes some obvious cues from the rendition from “Sherlock,” portraying Mycroft as a more traditionally handsome, limber fellow, and really emphasizing his power as “the very embodiment of the British government.” However, he’s a much “warmer” character than the BBC version, which I think helps make him stand out, and gives him a little more of the humor that was present in the original stories. In Japan, he's voiced by Hiroki Yasumoto; the English dub is played by "Black Butler" star himself, J. Michael Tatum.

4. Stephen Fry, from the Guy Ritchie Films.

Mycroft appears in the second film, “Game of Shadows,” in another case of a “small but important” sort of role. Some of the funniest scenes in the film are thanks to him, and he’s also important in terms of the movie’s climax and conclusion. Fry is a shockingly book-accurate take on the character for the modern era, both in appearance and portrayal, and I think that’s a big part of why I like him. For all the things these films did differently from Conan Doyle, Mycroft almost feels ripped straight out of the pages.

3. Christopher Lee, from The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes.

Lee was the first “serious” Mycroft, depicting the character as a more athletic and icy sort of character. This is ironic, since “The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes” is mostly rather comedic in nature, although it does have its hard edges. With that said, while he is a bit more dramatic than earlier interpretations, he still has a lot of humorous bits and moments. Plus, it’s Christopher Lee: of COURSE he’s awesome.

2. Mark Gatiss, from Sherlock.

Gatiss not only plays Mycroft in the series, but is also one of its chief creators. As if the guy needed MORE power. This version rather famously plays up Mycroft as a very, VERY authoritarian figure: much colder and more mean-spirited than almost any other interpretation. At times, he’s more of an antagonist than a protagonist in the show. However, he does still have a heart hidden under his dictatorial ways, a fact that’s made clear literally from the start of the series, and does help Sherlock out in various ways throughout the show. I was sorely tempted to make him number one…hopefully the person I chose instead won’t disappoint.

1. Charles Gray, from the Granada Series.

Gray first played the character in the film “The Seven Per-Cent Solution,” but it’s the Granada series (with Jeremy Brett as his younger brother) that I REALLY recognize him for. Alongside Robert Morley (and possibly Stephen Fry), I would argue that this is the most book-accurate take on Mycroft there’s ever been. I love how even though he is depicted as the generally more lighthearted figure from the original stories, he’s not played up as a caricature or a cartoon, and can be serious when the moment calls for it. The show even had two episodes where Mycroft took the place of each of the Baker Street gang, with one episode teaming him up with his brother, and another teaming him up with Watson. Gatiss may be more recognizable nowadays, but for me, Gray IS Mycroft, just as Brett IS Sherlock and Colin Jeavons IS Lestrade, plain and simple.

[ten-cent-sleuth]

A Galling Yoke, Part 14

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for the “Take care of them for me, will you?”, “You have no idea what you mean to me”, and Having feelings for someone you hurt squares on my July Break Bingo card

See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader

Rating: Teen

A couple of hours after Sherlock and William left, one of them returned. It wasn’t until Sherlock walked through the door alone that the reality fully sank in for you: your little brother had overturned his life for you. He had done so of his own volition, and it was entirely possible that he would end up a happier man with the freedom of being a low-status commoner, but you knew you were not successful in reassuring yourself when Sherlock became alarmed and gathered you into his arms.

“Do not cry, petal. Please—I hate to see your tears.”

“Oh, heavens,” you sniffled into his chest. “I have been crying a lot, have I not?”

Leading you to the settee, he said, “Not any more than is warranted given the series of upheavals your life has been recently.”

That got a wet laugh out of you. “Are you actually validating expressions of emotion, Sherlock?”

“Only yours.” He froze halfway through lowering himself to sit beside you. “That is, I care only about your emoti— No, I mean being emotional is only reasonable when it is y— Oh, for pity’s sake.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth to stay the giggles at his sudden ineloquence. The man could monologue on the spot about dastardly deeds and murderous mysteries, but he got tongue-tied trying to comfort a friend! He seemed to recognise the incongruity himself, as he dragged a palm down his face and practically flopped down beside you.

“I am already bungling the one request he made of me,” he groaned.

You sobered quickly at that. “What do you mean? William? What did he say to you?”

“Naught surprising. Asked me about my…” He waved off the rest of the sentence like it was a nuisance of a housefly.

“Your what?” You gawped. “Your intentio—?”

“And then he told me to watch over you in his absence. His single, final request. As I said, naught surprising.”

The scene materialised in your imagination: William emulating Sherlock’s graveness as best he could so that he could deliver his message sternly, “Take care of her for me, will you?” With a fortifying inhale, you let the imagery dissolve.

“What…did you answer?” you questioned, inexplicably nervous to know.

He arched an eyebrow. “Internally, I was rather offended that he thought he had to ask. As though I am going to let you go after only just getting you back.”

Your eyes dropping, you fidgeted with your sleeves, suddenly—and untimeously—remembering that you were in Sherlock’s clothes.

“Ah.” Blast! Really!

“Externally, I reassured him that you can take care of yourself, as evidenced by the past decade and a half—and, frankly, even before that.”

You raised your gaze to smile up at him, pleased by his approbation.

It was his turn to fidget for a moment. “Of course,” he started, flustered, “that means not that I shall stand by. It is clear to me now that I know not always what is best for you—but I do always want what is best for you. No, indeed,” he went on, coolheaded and self-assured now, “I have learnt my lesson and shall never abandon you again.”

Smile widening, you scooted closer to him and tentatively laid your hand on top of the one of his that lay on the settee between you. The back of his hand was rough, cracked by the dry winter air, but all the stronger and warmer feeling for it. “I believe it, sir, and I welcome your presence in my life.”

He, with great care, turned his hand over and threaded his fingers through yours.

Entranced, you smiled down at the sight for quite some time. Your hand fit perfectly in his. This felt just as snug as, though headily more intimate than, being tucked into his side on the street, your arm hooked around his elbow. When you looked up, you found Sherlock’s stare fixed on you.

“Is aught the matter?”

He frowned. “Yes. Or, well, no, not if you would…” The frown deepened to a scowl. “Would you like to know why you are ‘petal’ to me?”

You blinked a few times. The forbidding visage did not match the personal direction this conversation had swerved, until you recognised the discomfort lining Sherlock’s form.

“I have wanted to know since you came up with that little nickname, if you recall,” you replied, keeping your tone light to hopefully lift some of his discomposure. “I only stopped pestering you for an explanation after years of your continual refusing.”

His eyes darted to and from yours. “Well, I continually refused because it was…sentimental.”

“Ah.” Not again! Say something cleverer than that, for heaven’s sake! “Sherlock, the last thing I wish to do is embarrass you. You need not tell me. I had only been curious, and I am content to not know.”

“I wish you to know,” he said, his gaze finally settling on yours. “I always had. It was only my confounded hubris that kept my lips sealed—you know how it is at that age, thinking you can have it all, and I thought I could have you and keep you at a distance at the same time. But now, now, I would have you know that there is naught I guard more closely or hold higher up than you, even any semblance of being superior in my immunity to…well, to sentiment.”

In other words, the olive branch of olive branches, the goodwill gesture of goodwill gestures. The first step of many future steps. You smiled. “I would love to know, sir.”

He shifted closer, close enough that his and your knees touched. “We spent many hours out-of-doors, exploring, talking, getting into minor trouble.”

You smirked. He paused to shoot you a withering look.

“Yes, minor. It was never that bad.”

“Go on, Sherlock.”

“Right. Well. It did not take me long to notice the resemblance between you and the flowers we’d come across, their petals bright, budding…beautiful, of course.”

“Of course,” you said, sounding surprisingly controlled for how quickly you’d lost your breath.

“Yet the petal is a protector,” mused Sherlock. “It is crucial to the survival and prosperity of the flower—but also to its pleasantness. Its homeliness, in a way. The analogy was puerile, yes, but privately charming, and it stuck. When I saw you again, after all of these years apart, these thoughts came back to me, but more…more meaningfully, I suppose, than when I first had them.”

Unsteady, you nodded in understanding. You recalled Sherlock scandalising your butler and your father alike by addressing you with such familiarity; you recalled him trying to cover his tracks by playing it off as something he and Mycroft did. But no, the elder Holmes brother would sooner call you pest than petal. You had allowed Sherlock’s little white lie because you truly had believed it to be a thoughtless slip…and all along, it had been anything but thoughtless.

“The more the old nickname arose in my thoughts,” he said, “the more meaning it carried with it. Even though much has changed for us—and, indeed, between us—I still find you to be the most resplendent, most vivacious part of my life.”

“Truly?” you breathed.

“Well and truly.” He moved the hand of yours that he held into his lap. “That you are astounded surprises me not, for I shall be the first to confess that I am perplexed as to how such tender feelings can persist here.” Balling his other hand into a fist on his knee, he muttered, “It is the epitome of illogic, to care for one whom I have hurt.”

“I have hurt you as well, Sherlock,” you reminded him softly.

“Yes, and yet…” He lifted your hand to his lips and punctuated his words with kisses to your knuckles. “And yet, I would have you, petal. I—your brother simply wants not that you be without friends, but I, selfishly—I would have you as my lifelong puzzle, I would be the certainty throughout your uncertainties…”

In quick succession, memories flashed in your mind: All the times Sherlock had given you his right arm to maximise the support of your injured knee, had taken the time to explain his thought process to you instead of spouting his conclusions and expecting you to follow along, had given you space in his life and work despite his instincts to take it all up himself, had spoken up for you when something discomfited or somebody distressed you. All the ways he had encouraged your theories and supported your contributions to the case, had reached out with logical reasoning and impassioned promises alike to ease your mind whenever necessary, had been attuned to your moods at all and striven to keep you from losing yourself in your troubles or your thoughts, had somehow allowed you to reflect on your past without regret. Together, they formed a mural you had somehow not noticed being built in your heart until this instant—a mural that proved nothing was more certain than that you, without knowing, without having to know, had let Sherlock Holmes into your lifeblood.

“…if you would have me, my lady.”

A tiny breath escaped you. If, indeed. “You have no idea what you mean to me, Sherlock.” Pulling your hand away from his mouth, out of his grip, looping it instead around his neck along with your other arm, you dragged him down to you.

It was not like the kiss from this morning. Indeed, it was not like any kiss you’d ever experienced before: here, in this cranny of the world alone, the air was richer with Sherlock’s warm and enveloping musk, your lungs fuller with the bittersweet blend of old rifts and nascent reconciliation; now, uniquely in this pocket of time, your skin met Sherlock’s in a collision of years-old longing singing out and weeks-long control unravelling at the seams. These precious few minutes were inimitable.

Only the tightness in your gut grounded you as your heartbeat raced high and hard to match the melody of Sherlock’s. His hands roving from your hips to your shoulders were all that propped you up, his hungered breaths into your mouth were all that sustained you.

And soon, that was not enough. With a groan deep in his throat, Sherlock desperately hauled you closer by the nape. You were crushed against his firm front, but with the song in your breast all the louder and higher for it, you sank into the stinging sensation of not being able to catch your breath. Gasping, you raked your hands through his hair, soft curls giving way to your fingers’ ministrations, and tugged at the ends. He nipped at your lips in reply, and you couldn’t help but smile against his mouth at his playfulness.

Your smile widened even as he, pulling away, exhaled a soft laugh and brought you against his chest.

“Are you well?” you asked, still grinning. Your heart and lungs remained abuzz, thrumming with the exhilaration of this moment, of it being real, of you being in it. Deep down, you ached for all the moments you’d lost to resentment and self-grief, yet your blood sang with the triumphant understanding that you had never lost yourself, you had never been given up on.

“I am. Rather…perfect, actually.”

At that, you curled up tighter against him, hiding your smile in the crook of his neck, and he dropped a kiss into your hair.

“I was merely thinking,” he murmured, “having ‘no idea’ bothers me not, just this once.” He paused, and you could practically hear the nonplussed scrunch of his eyebrows. “Love. What it does to people.”

You stifled a ridiculous giddy giggle by kissing the hollow of his throat. Love. Dear heavens, could it really be…? He had declared his love just a fortnight ago, of course, but you hadn’t believed him then. Now. Now��

He started to card his fingers lightly through your hair, and you thought of the other declaration of love he’d made moments ago. He might not have said “My lady, I am in love with you” this time, but he had sounded just as passionate—or, indeed, more so—in his attempt to prove that he was not so leery of irrational sentiment anymore.

A blush bloomed under your collar; oh, yes, Sherlock certainly could be poetic when he wanted to be. Or maybe he didn’t even realise just how poetic he’d sounded, and wasn’t that all the more endearing to you. Regardless, you wouldn’t be thinking of his little nickname for you the same way ever again.

Petal.

Eudoria always loved flowers—maybe that had played a role in Sherlock’s subconscious fixation on them while you were out causing “minor” trouble. But now, you recalled an offhand remark she often made about petals: everyone with taste appreciated their splash of colour and aesthetic variety, but those people were liable to think of them as merely pretty and delicate; only those with scientific minds could see past that, could see their deeper worth in the leading roles they played in a flower’s lifetime, could appreciate them fully.

And who had a scientific mind if not Sherlock Holmes?

He who had not believed you were a killer even if it was logical, he who had nursed you back to health even if it was illogical, he who would choose you when it was totally nonsense—through total nonsense—was Sherlock Holmes. If there was another person out there who could be right for you, you did not want to find them; you did not want anyone else to be the certainty throughout your uncertainties; and you wanted nothing more than to be the lifelong puzzle of the man you loved.

You ducked your head and searched for Sherlock’s hand, playing nervously with those clever digits once you found it. “Sherlock,” you said. “There is something I wish to tell you.”

“There is something I wish to tell you as well.”

Your breath left you in one fell swoop.

“I had wanted to tell you as soon as I returned, but then you started crying, and we had that conversation and intense osculation session—”

Heat cascaded from your head to your neck. “Yes, Sherlock, I was there.”

“I only mean to say that there did not seem to be a good time.”

Biting your lip, you forced your head up to meet his gaze in spite of your self-consciousness. “Well,” you said, deciding to let Sherlock say the words before you did if he wanted the honour so strongly, “you may speak first, sir.”

He smiled down at you. “I thank you, my sweet.”

You smiled up at him, your heart beating a more and more sweeping staccato of anticipation.

“After escorting Pashbroke to Scotland Yard and ensuring the case was in good hands, I decided to stop by Voss House since Grosvenor Square is on the way here.”

Your smile started to fade.

“I had wanted to update your loyal Mr and Mrs Rogers about your condition, you see, and hoped to grab some clothes for you while I was at it.”

Oh, dear. This wasn’t going where you’d expected, was it?

“But plans changed. As my hansom approached your address, I saw a cabriolet parked outside that boasted your family crest. Naturally, I deduced that your father was there—”

“What?”

“—so I told the driver to not stop after all…my lady, where are you going?”

On your feet now, you pressed a palm to your forehead. “Gracious. How could I have forgotten?” You shook your head and focused on getting a move on. “Sherlock, where are the clothes I was wearing when I arrived here? I ought not to appear in men’s garments and appal Father any more than I already shall when he finds out about— Oh, Father knows not what has happened with William… Heaven help me, I shall have to explain it all… Well, a confrontation would have been inevitable, at any rate, given my promise…”

“What promise?” he questioned, hot on your heels as you raced to and fro to get ready to leave. “And why are you in such a rush? Ought you to be convalescing while—?”

“I have been convalescing all morning—in front of a very pleasant fire, no less. I can handle teatime with my father,” you declared. “Now, sir: my clothes?”

With a sigh, Sherlock led you to where your numerous layers had been left to dry, evidently giving credit to your claim that tea with Lord Coltidge was well within your capabilities. Now, if only you could do the same.

Thank you for reading, and thank you to @every-username-is-taken-damnit, @wa-ni, and @marveldcmistress for helping me face the daunting task of writing The Kiss Scene lol. Feedback is always welcome!

Taglist [comment below if you’d like to be added!]: @theyaremorethanjustfictional @wonderlandfandomkingdom

[lieutenant-teach]

Thrawn books review

I’ve finished both EU Thrawn Trilogy and new 6 Thrawn books. Enjoyed them all quite a lot, loved the title villain. Scaringly smart, charismatic and capable. Wow. I liked him in ‘Rebels’ (though it’s been time when I watched it, only hazy recollections remain), in ‘Ahsoka’ the delivery was ok, the plan not so much – frankly, I wasn’t following the logic of what was happening much.

Going back to the books.

Ascendancy trilogy (2020-2021)

I was interested in Chiss society structure, especially by ‘adoption’ of capable youth into influential families. But I didn’t quite understand – do they actually have familiar relationship within families? Yes, Thrawn remembers his sister fondly, and he and Thrass have brother-like relationship, but it must be quite lonely – as I read, a lot of Chiss characters are ripped from their birth families and don’t have any contact with them after ‘adoption’, but there’s no deep familiar love in a new family, too. There can be exceptions, but the general tendency in books was kinda sad.

Really liked Thalias and Che’ri. Pity they don’t appear in 2017-2019 books. I know they were created afterwards, but still I wanted to see more of them (read Ascendancy first, 2017-2019 books later). Hope they appear in later works Timothy Zahn might create about Thrawn.

I didn’t like handling of Thrawn’s Force-sensitive (Sky-walker) sister. They never meet as adults, but I expected some family drama and all that jazz. Would be nice if their interaction happened.

Really curious what was happening in the Ascendancy at the political level during the Imperial times and after the Rebellion victory. Whatever shit occurred to them, they deserve it.

Thrawn (2017), Alliances (2018), Treason (2019)

Eli! I liked this Holmes-Watson structure (typical for all Thrawn books). I knew people shipped them, so I was reading already with this lens in mind, but canonically it’s, of course, deep loyalty and respect. Maybe, even friendship, though I’d like to see more casual interactions to actually believe in it – as I see it, mostly they act as quite close, but still just coworkers. I was disappointed that the writings Thrawn gave Eli before that latter’s departure to the Ascendancy never mentioned later – as Thrawn called Eli his friend, and Eli was very touched by it. And later heartbroken that he didn’t get any personal greeting after several years of distance. Mentioning of the writings could be appropriate and it would give some personal touch to Thrawn.

And here’s my biggest gripe – we don’t get any meaningful insight into Thrawn’s inner world. His thoughts, feelings. We see some bits and pieces through eyes of surrounding characters, but it’s quite limited and mostly connected to the actions of the plot. It works, of course, to emphasize Thrawn’s military genius, but at the personal level it lacked, as for me. Before reading I expected the books would be from Thrawn’s POV. Nope. Also I’d like to see more of Thranto casual relationship (don’t mean romantic love, but friendship, though it’d be cool, too – after all, Eli did give up his all life for Thrawn’s ambitions, it’s so romantic… *cough* though such loyalty to the cause is even more admirable… shame, it’s an Imperial cause…).

I also quite liked Karyn Faro. She’s cool and has short hair like me (according to the comics).

Pettiness within the Imperial ranks – that was delicious! Governor Arihnda Pryce is a traitorous self-serving bitch. She can be understood, of course, her reasons to just live a comfortable life make her relatable – though through what actions she achieves it makes her sleazy and not likable as a person. But I enjoyed her character a lot.

Other remarks

Yes, I know the Empire is bad. Doesn’t mean I cannot enjoy books about Imperial characters. Now I want to see fics where they become Rebels (smth like Thrawn deciding the future New Republic would be better ally to the Ascendancy than the Empire, the Rebellion prevails, the ‘Chimaera’ crew helps, happy ending, Thranto, everyone’s alive – pure self-indulgence).

I’d also wish to mention that, as for me, these books work better as standalones. ‘Alliances’ was the weakest IMO, as it’s connected with the Skywalker Saga most – due to Anakin’s appearance. I was fine with Vader, but Anakin and Padme were too much for me. I’d prefer to learn more about new characters (like, Pryce doesn’t appear par the 1st book of the trilogy).

[switch]

Hi Switch! You're the Moriarty Expert I trust the most, so I thought I'd ask. Can you explain the reason you dislike Ruler Moriarty as if I'm an idiot/have little FGO knowledge? I play the game, but I barely know anything about meta, writers, or any sort of controversies and I figured you'd be able to give an objective rundown of why the character is bad for someone who might not get any out-of-game context. If you don't want to that's okay too!!! Have a good day either way

uhh to put it in the simplest possible terms, and with an immediate clarification that this is not about ‘he’s cringe’ or ‘i don’t think he’s hot’, there were three different ingame side-stories which all happened about 2 years before ruler ever released, and these side stories set up that there was going to be a Plot Event involving two different characters (sherlock and enkidu, we don’t know if these plots were planned to intersect or not), and moriarty was heavily involved in both. the basic setup was:

1. moriarty wanting the main character to trust him over sherlock if anything happens, being concerned that sherlock would be willing to do something extreme to save humanity that moriarty doesn’t want him to do (to clarify moriarty isn’t good in this situation and sherlock isn’t necessarily evil it’s just a whole thing i won’t get into here), suppressing the protagonist’s memories of this conversation so sherlock doesn’t get suspicious, and then he has a very vague and open-ended speech at the end about what’s gonna happen next.

2. moriarty outright saying he’s planning to turn enkidu into some kind of weapon and isn’t going to give the main character a say in the matter, and having a vague open-ended speech about what’s gonna happen next

these side stories are still in the game. they can still be read. but at some point, the culmination to the sherlock plot was pushed to happen much earlier in the writing process because the original chapter it was slated for got bloated, and some rewrites happened…

so after 2 years of being excited to see those stories play out, what we actually got was, uh, just ruler. all of a sudden. this new cooler younger moriarty who is an extremely different character just showed up with no foreshadowing because they did not have time to foreshadow him, made holmes kill himself, and… that was it. moriarty himself did not factor into this chapter at all. him being worried what sherlock was gonna do that he didn’t want him to? erasing the protag’s memories? enkidu? not relevant at all. moriarty’s side story i mentioned up there, which was supposed to be a prelude to this plot event, wasn’t even made universally available to players who don’t have him for this chapter (they usually do this for side stories relevant to main chapters), it was suddenly so irrelevant.

moriarty got a followup side story after this that… still didn’t address any of the still hanging plot threads. it’s just him talking about how he’s sad that sherlock is dead, but also sherlock is definitely going to come back since he killed himself at a recreation of reichenbach so obviously that didn’t kill him (okay). no open-endedness. a lot of moriarty fans felt like it read like a character retirement. and also kind of just like a commercial for whatever new sherlock unit we’re probably going to get down the line. absolutely nothing like his previous ones. the only acknowledgement of how weird this all is was just him going “oh, it just happened sooner than i expected” which frankly feels like the writers just looking directly at the audience to wave it away.

and, more infuriatingly, an interview with the writers shortly after (the same one that confirmed the rewrites/early sherlock plot happened) outright said that yeah, ruler wasn’t originally part of the plan, they kinda just made him because they wanted to see a young moriarty and decided to use him. they also stated that young moriarty still had a role to play in the story (he also blew up at the end of that chapter), which they never do for characters? which, like, okay, what about moriarty?? the guy whose dropped plots you can still access in the game??

so yeah anyway it’s been 2 years and moriarty is still in hell. i mean they still use him in marketing once in a while given he was one of the most recognizable fgo originals, but he never gets to show up in any events without being attached to ruler, despite everyone insisting at the time that he definitely wasn’t functionally being replaced, and all the relevancy is on ruler as the Real Main Story Character, so you can maybe understand why moriarty fans who actually read those side stories and that interview feel like we got shafted just so they could sell a new, coincidentally more conventionally marketable unit. so naturally we’re gonna be kind of pissed off by the character they did said shafting with.

also as more of an aside, moriarty is a really bad unit gameplay wise who hasn’t been buffed in like four years (and his only two buffs were actually kind of bad but that’s getting picky), and ruler is a lot better than he is. moriarty didn’t even get a pity buff or anything, so that’s salt in the wound. a bit more subjectively, ruler enjoyers are also chronically really bad at tagging him distinctly from moriarty so if you want to look up fanart of moriarty but not ruler you basically go to hell forever. moriarty even has a nickname thats contextually unique to him (shincha) but it gets used for ruler so much against all sense you can’t even use that to avoid him, it’s so bad. i filtered everything i could think of and i still just had to stop going into moriarty’s tags on here after ruler happened, which just makes me sad.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Bruce Partington Plans pt 1

I feel like I get this one mixed up with The Naval Treaty…

I don't hold out much hope for the police in this story as last time the entirety of Scotland Yard seemed to be experiencing the same mass delusion.

Maybe this time they'll show a little more knowledge of basic human anatomy.

In the third week of November, in the year 1895, a dense yellow fog settled down upon London. From the Monday to the Thursday I doubt whether it was ever possible from our windows in Baker Street to see the loom of the opposite houses. [...] the greasy, heavy brown swirl still drifting past us and condensing in oily drops upon the window-panes...

Victorian London sounds like such a great place to live. Honestly, the chain-smoking in the earlier story was probably still better for your lungs than the 'fresh' air on the streets. Air should, as a rule, never be 'greasy'. Unless you are actively deep-fat frying something, in which case I guess it has to be, but that doesn't mean we should like it.

Meanwhile, Holmes:

Was it Holmes who was desperate for the outside world, or Watson? One must imagine a certain amount of authorial leeway on his behalf. I can imagine being stuck inside with Sherlock Holmes on his newest 24 hour a day obession with 'the music of the Middle Ages' - bearing in mind this man does not understand circadian rhythms - Watson must have wanted to risk breathing in the grease himself.

“The London criminal is certainly a dull fellow,” said he in the querulous voice of the sportsman whose game has failed him.

I'm sensing a theme to all of these beginnings.

"The thief or the murderer could roam London on such a day as the tiger does the jungle, unseen until he pounces, and then evident only to his victim.”

I feel like his relentless coughing would give him away a bit. And his victim is as likely to have already keeled over from oxygen deprivation as be alive.

“Well, well! What next?” said he. “Brother Mycroft is coming round.”

Mycroft!

Actually... Mycroft, not a good idea. I doubt you have a particularly good lung capacity at this point. You spend most of your day sedentary in silence. Don't go outside Mycroft. Don't go outside!

"By the way, do you know what Mycroft is?”

So far he has been described as a train, a planet and a seal...

"You would also be right in a sense if you said that occasionally he is the British government.”

This is where that line is from. Ha. I knew it was around here somewhere. Also, even more reason for him not to venture forth into the greasy air.

"All other men are specialists, but his specialism is omniscience."

Mycroft is god, confirmed.

This does feel very much like a 'don't put all your eggs in one basket' kind of thing. Also the man has the most set routine in the whole of London. That's terrible security. The fact he hasn't been kidnapped and tortured is quite frankly madness to me.

"But Jupiter is descending to-day."

I can't decide if these are just our usual frilly narrative or if Sherlock is indeed making fat jokes this whole time. Selecting Jupiter specifically seems like a fat joke.

"The case was featureless as I remember it. The young man had apparently fallen out of the train and killed himself."

These days you would have to work pretty damn hard to fall off a train on the Tube. I know it was different back then, but imagining him trying to shimmy through the gap in one of those tube train windows is highly amusing to me. Although the purpose is not amusing, so maybe not.

“He left Woolwich suddenly on Monday night. Was last seen by his fiancee, Miss Violet Westbury..."

Another Violet to add to our ever growing collection. I've found some lists of the most popular baby names in 1870 and 1880 and apparently Violet was #100 in 1870 and #68 in 1880, then #43 in 1890, (this story is set in 1895, assuming that she's going to be somewhere around 20-25, so it is a top 100 name for the period and would have been even more common among women of that age at the time he was writing. It's still quite a high number of Violets to be knocking around. I guess ACD liked the name. It doesn't appear to be a family name, looking at his family tree I can't see a single Violet.

This is unimportant, we've just had three of them now.

"The body could only have come on the line in that way. Had it been carried down from any neighbouring street, it must have passed the station barriers, where a collector is always standing. This point seems absolutely certain.”

Were there no access tunnels in those days? I feel like I always see access tunnels to underground lines in films and TV shows. And it makes sense to have shortcuts to parts of the line that are more remote. But I don't know if they actually exist. I guess I just assumed that there would be midway access points for maintenance. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the maintenance people have to walk along the long dark tunnel to wherever they need to get to... that does see dumb, though. You'd think there would at least be something near the points. Whatever, I am probably thinking about this too much.

“The trains which traverse the lines of rail beside which the body was found are those which run from west to east, some being purely Metropolitan, and some from Willesden and outlying junctions."

Willesden Junction is now on the Bakerloo line, btw, which is one of the lines Baker Street is on. Just saying. Although the Bakerloo line wouldn't open until 1905. At this point I think it was on an overground line? idk. The Metropolitan Line was definitely open at this time, though, and Baker Street is on that one, too. Baker Street is on a lot of lines.

"...at what point he entered the train it is impossible to state.” “His ticket, of course, would show that.” “There was no ticket in his pockets.” “No ticket! Dear me, Watson, this is really very singular."

The surprise is probably due to something else entirely, but the idea that Holmes is shocked by the idea of a fare jumper amuses me.

"According to my experience it is not possible to reach the platform of a Metropolitan train without exhibiting one's ticket."

Willing to bet that was not true at all. I bet people managed it. But for the sake of the story, let us say it would be impossible for him to get on a train without a ticket. These days, of course, dropping your ticket would be a bad idea because you have to use it to get out again at the other end (if you don't just tap in and out) But then he was thrown out of a moving train, apparently, it makes sense he might lose a ticket in those circumstances. Particularly if he was holding it rather than having it in a pocket.

"He had also a check-book on the Woolwich branch of the Capital and Counties Bank. Through this his identity was established."

Once more the tried and true method of identifying someone through the name written on something in their pocket. With a cheque book I guess it's more likely that it's actually him. But there's another version of this where he's a conman who avoids paying ticket fares and has stolen someone's cheque book.

A moment later the tall and portly form of Mycroft Holmes was ushered into the room. Heavily built and massive, there was a suggestion of uncouth physical inertia in the figure, but above this unwieldy frame there was perched a head so masterful in its brow, so alert in its steel-gray, deep-set eyes, so firm in its lips, and so subtle in its play of expression, that after the first glance one forgot the gross body and remembered only the dominant mind.

Oh hai Mycroft!

Just in case you have forgotten since last time Watson described Mycroft. Or since all those comments of Sherlock's earlier, Mycroft is fat. Did you know that he's fat? But you'll immediately forget after a moment, except for how Watson will never let you forget.

At his heels came our old friend Lestrade, of Scotland Yard—thin and austere. The gravity of both their faces foretold some weighty quest.

Oh hai Lestrade.

Love you two working together. Beautiful moment. Perfect. No notes. It's the team-up I've been waiting for.

Impressed that you both seem to be breathing properly as well.

“Surely you have heard of it? I thought everyone had heard of it.” [...] "It has been the most jealously guarded of all government secrets."

I feel like maybe they haven't heard of it because it's a jealously guarded government secret, Mycroft. Just an idea. If everyone has heard of it, it's a bloody terrible secret.

"The plans [...] are kept in an elaborate safe in a confidential office adjoining the arsenal, with burglar-proof doors and windows."

What exactly constitutes a 'burglar-proof' door or window? That sounds more like a challenge than a fact. Genuinely, don't think there is such a thing, particularly at Victorian technology levels.

Also, we know from previous stories that all anyone needs to do is wait for some clerk to take them out to make a copy, then wait a little longer for them to need a coffee break and the plans will no doubt be left unattended on a desk somewhere for you to walk in and grab.

Who wants to bet that Cadogan West was just a bit of an idiot, really? That seems to be the standard level of junior clerks in the civil service in this series.

"If you have a fancy to see your name in the next honours list—”

I find it odd that Mycroft would even suggest this when, on the whole, he knows his little brother pretty well. There's no way Sherlock would want to be on the honours list.

"The actual official guardian of the papers is the famous government expert, Sir James Walter, whose decorations and sub-titles fill two lines of a book of reference. He has grown gray in the service, is a gentleman, a favoured guest in the most exalted houses, and, above all, a man whose patriotism is beyond suspicion."

I automatically hate and suspect him.

But no vibes only facts.

“Yes; his brother, Colonel Valentine Walter, has testified to his departure from Woolwich, and Admiral Sinclair to his arrival in London; so Sir James is no longer a direct factor in the problem.”

Because we know from these stories that Colonels are the most upstanding of gentlemen.

“The senior clerk and draughtsman, Mr. Sidney Johnson. He is a man of forty, married, with five children. He is a silent, morose man, but he has, on the whole, an excellent record in the public service. He is unpopular with his colleagues, but a hard worker."

Now him, I like. 😄

No, seriously though, why do his colleagues dislike him? I feel like that is crucial information. Is it because he's a stickler for the rules, or is it because he's a creep? Or is it because he once ate someone else's lunch?

“Many circumstances could be imagined under which he would pass London Bridge. There was someone in the carriage, for example, with whom he was having an absorbing interview."

Talking to a stranger? On the Tube? No, sorry. Too unbelievable. I can accept rabbits being mistaken for humans, but this is too far.

I guess he doesn't specify that it's a stranger.

"He would naturally have made an appointment with the foreign agent and kept his evening clear. Instead of that he took two tickets for the theatre, escorted his fiancee halfway there, and then suddenly disappeared.”

Has no one in this room ever heard of spycraft? A trip to the theatre would be the perfect cover for a handover. You drop your program, someone else picks it up and hands it back to you with a few extra pages folded up inside it. Easy. Taking the fiancee makes it less suspicious. Sure, she might get caught up in things, but that's a risk you have to take. They then have the entire course of the play to sneak away and make copies/take photographs of the papers before returning them to you, perhaps in the pocket of your coat at the coat check, with a little bit of extra money tucked into your hat?

Also, it's a public place with witnesses, so the bad guy is less likely to just straight up kill you so they don't have to pay. Admittedly, if they don't pay you don't get the opportunity to directly threaten them... I don't know, I'm not a spy, but I'm sure the theatre would be a great handover spot.

“It seems to me perfectly clear,” said Lestrade. “I have no doubt at all as to what occurred. He took the papers to sell them. He saw the agent. They could not agree as to price. He started home again, but the agent went with him. In the train the agent murdered him, took the more essential papers, and threw his body from the carriage. That would account for everything, would it not?”

But why not take all the papers, Lestrade? Why bother taking the time to go through them to see which are the most important? Why leave any behind at all?

“The ticket would have shown which station was nearest the agent's house. Therefore he took it from the murdered man's pocket.”

And that would just be poor work on the foreign agent's part. Never do anything near where you live.

I was going to say 'if Mycroft could make it to Baker Street, why not just go to the scene of the crime himself?' but then I remembered that this is the London train system and therefore it is wholly inaccessible to anyone who can't or doesn't want to climb up and down fifty million steps (in 1895, especially, and still at least partially today). The sudden shock to Mycroft's system of that increase in activity, coupled with the fact he's already committed chemical warfare against his lungs by going out in the smog, would definitely shuffle him off the mortal coil. Far better if Sherlock goes, considering that apparently the entirety of Britain relies on Mycroft not dying.

[tiger-moran]

I'm still tired of Moriarty (and Adler too to be honest) being used as some sort of 'archetype' where you've got to have your Holmes character, your Watson character, your Lestrade or occasionally some other main police inspector character, your Adler character, and then your Moriarty character. But very often Moriarty (and Adler too) will be the most unrecognisable out of all of them.

It's like I've said before but pretty much nobody cares about it when I say it Moriarty is not the 'most evil person ever' or an actual 'supervillain' or something and he's not even the worst villain in canon, other canonical villains do much worse things than he does. I have said all of this often in much more depth in my essay, but he's just been hyped up into this 'Holmes's Nemesis' thing which means of course basically everything he is and does has to revolve around Holmes apparently. But he wasn't even just that in the canon? Even when ACD literally just created him to try to kill Holmes off he wasn't even that or just that? Even Arthur Conan 'I have no fucks to give about these stories any more' Doyle gave Moriarty a lot more depth than just him being an 'Evil Villain' and he certainly didn't make him so that his every single thought and action involved Holmes. And yet that's essentially the only way Moriarty ever seems to be defined or portrayed now.

Look I'm not saying every detail that is there about him in the canon has to be strictly adhered to because it doesn't and frankly some of it is best ignored entirely because some of it's based in nonsense like phrenology or physiognomy and also some of it definitely sounds like Holmes's exhaustion/paranoia/drug induced hallucinations whereby he sees Moriarty as some sort of monster not as a person.

But I'm tired of almost everything with a Sherlock Holmes character having to have a 'Moriarty' but then pretty much the only thing that makes it Moriarty (supposedly) is 'this character is a Big Bad villain who goes against and is probably weirdly obsessed with Holmes'. Almost every single other thing gets erased or changed (even right down to his name more than once), and I just... do not see the appeal or the point of creating what's basically a completely original character then slapping the name Moriarty on it.

Often it used to be basically... let's make this guy absolutely depraved, the Absolute Worst Person Ever. And they'd tack the name Professor Moriarty on him and that was it, that was supposed to make me buy that that really is Moriarty.

Now it's more like... let's change practically every detail about this character so it's basically a totally unrecognisable original character. But then I'm still supposed to a/ accept and see this as Moriarty somehow because the character is obsessed with the Holmes character and going against him and... that's about it usually and b/ automatically love this character just because it's supposedly still Moriarty and c/ get really excited about the idea of even more adaptations doing this same sort of thing often as well? When... no? I don't see that as Moriarty any more than I see the 'depraved and nothing else' character as Moriarty? And I don't love these characters, in fact mostly I don't even like them and usually I will actively hate them? Especially when they manage to screw over Adler's character at the same time as doing this with Moriarty. And I am never going to get excited about the prospect of any more versions like this, in fact I'm at the point where I now actively dread any more of them popping up.

And it especially sucks how often erasing or changing almost every detail about Moriarty involves erasing or demeaning Moran as well as Moriarty's relationship with Moran. 'Moriarty' usually ends up obsessing one way or another over Holmes and either his relationship with Moran doesn't exist at all (which means sometimes Moran doesn't exist at all), or it's a relationship without any closeness, without any trust, without any real respect, yet it was ACD who put the basis of the idea that Moran is a mirror to Watson and the Moriarty and Moran relationship is a mirror of the Holmes and Watson relationship there, that idea comes from the canon, the few of us in the fandom who actually care about the characters and the relationship did not just invent that out of thin air.

Though in fact even older versions which are generally canonically pretty faithful still demeaned the relationship, they still relegated Moran to being unimportant to Moriarty. I mean even Granada kind of did all of this - they expanded on Moriarty in some ways but then really didn't do a lot to expand on him beyond him being the Big Bad Villain who exists only to commit crime and has no other interests at all apparently and he rivals Holmes and that's it, and they didn't do anything with Moriarty and Moran together, which they could have easily done when they seemed to have no issue putting Moriarty into a story he canonically wasn't in. And the Bert Coules' Final/Empty radio adaptations certainly did this - Moriarty's actions all seem to revolve around Holmes in that; Moran is relegated to just one of many people who work for him; all of the things that could have implied closeness between him and Moriarty were cut out completely.

And mostly really I'm sick of these radically different versions being all lumped together with the few I care about and being treated as interchangeable with them when most of those versions have no relevance whatsoever to me, and then people going on and on about some version in which I can see pretty much precisely nothing of Moriarty (i.e. the character I love so much) and how that's apparently the ~superior~ version.

Sorry but where the hell is my middle-aged maths professor who probably also likes art and who is a good teacher and has other interests and, you know, a whole life that doesn't actually revolve around Holmes, and his devoted bosom friend Moran? Because we've had hundreds if not thousands of these supposed 'Moriartys' by now in adaptations and non-canonical texts. And yet I've had that about the grand total of 1 (one) time.

[dathen]

Okay this conversation with Mrs. St. Claire is where playing off the chronology really becomes fun for me. Holmes is including her in the conversation as much as he usually does Watson: he asks her opinion about the handwriting comparison (vs asking for an example of it to compare, himself), and immediately starts sharing his deductions about the letter with her. When she asks how he came to his conclusions, he shares in minute detail in a way similar to his explanations to Watson, which are intended for Watson to learn his methods.

(I especially love the bit, “It is, of course, a trifle, but there is nothing so important as trifles.” It feels like a call-back crediting her noticing her husband’s missing necktie—that these details that she, too, can catch are of the utmost importance)

The rest of the conversation flows the same way, and then we get this bit:

“I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman may be more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical reasoner. And in this letter you certainly have a very strong piece of evidence to corroborate your view. But if your husband is alive and able to write letters, why should he remain away from you?”

Okay buddy you may be overcompensating a BIT here, but it’s quite a change from comments he’s made in the past! And again credits her with the evidence, and asks for her insight. And frankly, him even proposing the alternate view in her presence shows he’s still following to her request to be blunt and honest with her, vs “Okay thank you for your input! (Watson I have a worry that I didn’t dare say to her…)” which I could totally see many, many other male Victorian characters doing.

That’s not to say that Holmes didn’t interact with women like this pre-Scandal, but it’s fun to see such a vivid example immediately after he chose to reevaluate his mindset and prejudices!

(too bad about…all those other prejudices in this story. SIGH.)

[saints-who-never-existed]

(^ I’m actually @cockroachesunite, and didn’t tumblr use to let you Ask from your sideblogs? Anyway )

For the Ask game! 3, 17, 18, and 38?

Love your blog <3

Thank you so much, my friend! I love you right back! <3

3. Three films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

Withnail & I (1987) Honestly, I don't think my answer is ever going to change on this. It's been my number one since I was about sixteen and every time I rewatch it, I only love it more.

What We Do in the Shadows (2014) This one came to me at just the right time, tickled my funny bone in a big, big way, and continues to do so even now. (Also, check out the spin-off series Wellington Paranormal if you haven't already - would highly recommend!)

The Great Mouse Detective (1986) Childhood comfort film of all time, this one. It's Sherlock Holmes with mice! (And bats! And frogs! And various other small creatures!) It has a deeply irritating Scottish child in it! It has Vincent Price chomping the scenery and singing a villain song about gleefully drowning widows and orphans! What's not to love?

17. Name three things that make you happy?

I'm not sure I could pick just three! Here are some things that are making me happy right this second:

Cooking! I'm trying to look after my health a bit more and cooking new, exciting things for myself is part of that. I've just this minute devoured a delicious veggie curry with chickpeas and paneer and could not be more sated and satisfied!

Stupid Mental Health Walks! Continuing on in the looking-after-my-health vein, I've been moving my body a bit more and feel great about it. There aren't as many mountains down here as there are back in bonnie Scotland but at least I can power-walk home along the river after work and look at herons!

Work! I go through good and bad phases with it but right now, I'm in a good one! I definitely have the love and trust of my team now and there's something so nice about that. Nary a day goes by where I don't hear some variation on "Oh, just ask Saints, she'll know exactly what to do! She knows everything!" and I really, really like being that person who can be relied upon to swoop in and support others.

18. Do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

Generally speaking, I stand with Shakespeare on this sort of thing:

“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

I don't know if I'd go as far as to say I believe in ghosts and/or aliens etc.

What I do believe though is that there are a lot of aspects of the world around us that we still don't really understand yet, that haven't been dreamt of in our philosophy. And I believe that to close oneself off entirely from the idea of the unknown, to refuse to entertain the thought of things outwith our own knowledge/experience, is both unwise and, frankly, just really fucking boring!

38. Favourite song at the moment?

Still obsessed with The Scratch in general, honestly!

[sunnnfish]

Okay. Okay tashiro gonzaburou post for real. Under a cut bc it got much longer than i expected. ^_^

Tashiro Gonzaburou is frankly someone we don’t know that much about, really. He’s an average student, if a little lazy. He likes having his hair bleached but it’s not like he’s repeatedly bleaching it because the captain of his club told him it’s not allowed. He helps out around a bathhouse full of older folks who treat him like a grandson, giving him candy and recipes and elderly wisdom, which he takes in stride. He often wears a bright green jacket with a even brighter orange messenger bag. He doesn’t seem to like his bangs in his face, rather wearing a ponytail or a headband or beanie. He’s cheerful and a little scatterbrained, but always willing to help his friends. He wants a girlfriend, one day. He’s got crazy leg hair. He notices whatever sasaki and miyano have going on, way before there’s actually anything going on. He was a little worried about whatever they have going on because sasaki comes across as a little scary to anyone who’s not miyano. He’s in the ping pong club. He was chosen to be the next captain of the ping pong club because he’s the type who can get along with everyone. He is oddly susceptible to thinking boys are girls. He has very dexterous fingers, and is capable of spinning two pens around his fingers at the same time. He’s repeatedly said how he thinks what’s on the inside is more important than the outside of a person. He skips club practice, often enough for hanzawa to get angry with him. He doesn’t think he’s smart enough to be club captain. He’s a little worried about how busy hanzawa is, and doesn’t want to be a further burden to him, so he accepts the position as club captain.

And so I guess all this is to say we actually do know a lot about him. He’s a complex and well rounded person, full of kindness and a sharp insight that could make him a top student if he could apply it to his studies. But instead it’s applied to the people he knows and sees, capable of making connections that are far beyond surface level, because that’s the most important part, of course. He doesn’t have low self esteem, he’s just never considered himself one to be very… important, in the grand scheme of things. Especially in the eyes of someone like hanzawa. That “Why me” mentality. But he’s got charm and charisma and is really good at bringing people together. A guy who can be anyone’s friend.

If we want to get into real headcanon-ish (aka things I hold true in my heart no matter what anyone says) territory, I do think he’s the type to not really. tell people his problems. Surface level ones like forgetting his homework, sure, but like. Deep seated fears or worries or stresses. If we want to make comparisons, hanzawas got that kind of smile where you can tell there’s something more going on in him, while tashiros has that outward air of head empty. A persona built around being happy-go-lucky as a kind of defense mechanism—if he isn’t optimistic then who is he. But it’s not like he isn’t genuinely optimistic and cheerful—he is. But it kind of makes being vulnerable hard. He’ll gladly let people open up to him but. Opening up to others doesn’t come naturally. He doesn’t want to burden others. It’s like. Not as deep as I feel like I’m making it sound but it’s just. He will bottle things up. Just a bit.

And then about his insightfulness— nobody really. Tells tashiro things. Likely out of a thought he can’t take things seriously or that he’s too immature. (He does take things seriously though). And at this point nobody thinks to tell him things cause he just figures it out rather quickly. He keeps eyes and ears open and gathers information easily. And people are surprised when he knows things because he doesn’t seem the type to know things or be so insightful to the very core of who they are. He pulls out Sherlock Holmes-esque reasonings like I know you’ve been feeling less nervous lately cause your nails look healthier aka you haven’t been biting them. Idk I’m not good at Holmes but surely you get it. Like the noticing of the most minuscule of things combined with general knowledge of a persons mentality thus creating very accurate assessments. Not that he tells anyone these things unless it piques his interest. Nor that he himself really knows these are deep insights either.

And then his GENDER. Not much to say here but. He was considered along with miyano to be girly enough to do a maid cafe in their first year. When miyano and the gang were thinking abt what their girl names would be tashiro like. Really likes his. Shirahama “I want to be ‘not single’ with a girl” tashiro “want me to crossdress…?” his only claim to manliness is his leg hair. Gender off the charts. Silly guy.

Also silly things I think about him. He’s really into party tricks (like the pencil spinning thing) (started bc he wanted to impress girls but now it’s just fun). He can also do stuff like simple card magic and that thing where you pull a coin out of someone’s ear. He actually really likes problem solving he just can’t handle the school system. Bequeathes him adhd autism. He’s also like. Really into hip hop dance. Because I said so.

Anyways erm. This definitely got longer than expected. I like skimmed through sasamiya again just to find like every piece of him I could. He has CONTINUITY. All of them do. Harusono Shou you are so great at characters. Tashiro Gonzaburou you have a grip on my mind. Love and light

[patriciavetinari]

I don't understand the western (school) reading levels. That was not a thing in my country and especially not in my family. This is not a toot my own horn moment or a gifted kid brag. I genuinely thing it's a bad system to restrict books by age.

When I was 8 years old my favorite book was Dumas' Three Musketeers (which was later on my schools mandatory reading list in the 10th fucking grade and I was baffled how NOONE in my class had read it before age of 16). In the time of my parents, appropriate book for 7-12 year old kids were Jules Verne and Robert Stevenson- all the traveling stuff, adventure, tales of foreign lands, not fairy tales and even Tom Sawyer was considered a bit juvenile for a soviet 12 year old.

At 11 I was obsessed with Sherlock Holmes and Rex Stout. I had decided by then already that I disliked Tolstoy very much and didn't feel anything like Dostoevsky described, and much preferred the humane view of Chekhov. I read Bulgakov's Master and Margarita first time at 10 years old, then re-read it every couple of years.

I didn't burn through 'easy' '5th grade level' books - whatever they are even. What, the 'teen' or 'young adult' section in the library? I've never went to those. I burned through Dickens and Gogol and Hugo and Moliere and Wilde and Belyaev and Strugatsky brother's books and Ilf& Petrov. I arrived at Pratchett much later in life, after high school. I went through a h*rry p*tter phase but in between those I read The Garin Death Ray and had loads of fun. I'd read Puzo's Godfather before I read Mary Poppins. I read Zola with more interest than Peter Pan. I might have read some fairy tales one night and switched to 'And then there were none' the next with no issue.

I also think there is no such thing as a book inappropriate for a child. After a child learns to read full sentences, you can give them literally any book and if it's too anything for them – it'll be too boring, they'll put it down anyway and you can tweak it from there. But if it catches their attention and keeps them reading - be it a personal computer manual or Kafka - let them read, yes, even at 5 years old. Let them stumble over unknown words and ideas, and remind them to come and ask you, An Adult TM, or use the dictionary.

The only restriction I might entertain is straight up pornography writing or something, idk, maybe even that is my cultural background speaking. My parents handed me an Angelique book when I was what, 12? 13 maybe? I was bored out of my mind and the sex scenes were stupid as shit and I never finished it because it's frankly Not Good.

So idk. Can't relate. Let kids read whatever. Encourage kids to read whatever. Children's literature is a valuable genre, and this is not to degrade teen or YA fiction or anything, but I think there is nothing wrong with reading a teen fantasy romance or whatever and following week giving Anna Karenina a try. There is no such thing as reading levels I think.

[twistedtummies2]

Top 5 WORST Dracula Portrayals

Anyone who knows me well by now should also know that one of my favorite stories of all time is Bram Stoker’s Dracula. I love the book, and I love seeing how the story and its titular character are reimagined throughout the breadth of pop culture. And there are PLENTY of reimaginings and adaptations to go around: Count Dracula, alongside Sherlock Holmes, is one of the most frequently reinterpreted characters in the history of fiction. Of course, with so many interpretations, there are plenty of great Draculas out there: Christopher Lee, Bela Lugosi, Max Schreck, Gary Oldman, and more. But with the good must also come the bad: there are a LOT of really terrible Dracula movies and portrayals out there, just as there are a lot of really fun ones… …And I actually haven’t seen many of them. Well…actually, I suppose I have, but it depends on what you’re really looking at. For example, I love John Carradine’s PORTRAYAL of Dracula, but the movies he was actually in were often sub-par. Grandpa from “The Munsters” and the version from “Hotel Transylvania” are comical, incompetent buffoons, but they’re meant to be parody characters and I like them for the humor and campy silliness they provide. There are even a couple of Draculas that a lot of people seem to dislike that I actually think are okay. I have no big problem with Rudolf Martin from “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” (admittedly, this may partially be because I have only watched all of two episodes of that show), nor with Richard Roxburgh from “Van Helsing,” yet in researching this list, I found out that a LOT of people REALLY dislike those interpretations, as an example. Finally, it’s worth pointing out that I have, in fact, DELIBERATELY AVOIDED watching several bad Draculas because…well…they’re bad. And I KNOW they’re bad. Why in the world would I want to watch something that is notoriously terrible, aside from just…ascertaining that it IS, in fact, terrible. So, for instance, I haven’t seen “Dracula in Istanbul,” “Blacula,” “Dracula’s Dog,” and/or many, many other horrendously dreadful renditions that have gained some notoriety.

With all that said, this doesn’t mean that I’ve liked every single version of Dracula - as a character or as a story - that I’ve seen. Even I know a few Draculas that I frankly just don’t like. And it’s worth knowing the mistakes that have been made when handling this character, as much as it is worth praising the achievements. So, today, in honor of World Dracula Day, we’re gonna take a look at some of the worst of the worst from Transylvania. These are, in my personal, humble, and EXTREMELY biased opinion, the Top 5 Worst Portrayals of Count Dracula.

5. Carlos Villarias, from “Spanish Dracula.”

What is “Spanish Dracula,” some of you may be wondering? Well, here’s the basics: in 1931, Universal wanted to release their screen adaptation of Dracula in both English AND in Spanish. This was still in the early days of sound, and as a result, dubbing was a concept that really hadn’t been fully figured out. Typically, the way American studios handled making foreign-language movies, as a result, was just doing a second version of the film with different actors, all speaking the language intended. Very, very few of these alternate language films exist, and I think many would agree that the Spanish version of Dracula is one of the most famous to survive. In English, of course, Dracula was played by the immortal Bela Lugosi…and for the Spanish cast? They got this guy: Carlos Villarias. Many critics feel the Spanish Dracula is actually better, on a technical level, than the Lugosi outing. Having seen both films, I can’t say I agree: SOME things ARE better in it, but other things…ehhhh, the English version has them beat by a mile. It’s biggest problem is the cast, and ESPECIALLY Villarias as Dracula. I know nothing about this actor beyond this movie; maybe he’s great in other things, maybe he was just miscast…I don’t know. All I DO know is that, even if you take Lugosi’s iconic interpretation out of the equation, this is an AWFUL Dracula. How bad is he? Imagine if “Dracula: Dead & Loving It” was actually trying to take itself seriously. THAT is the best way I can describe this performance. Villarias comes off as more comical than creepy, his exaggerated and often bizarre expressions seeming like a parody of something that hasn’t even gained the legacy it needs to BE parodied yet. We all love to mock Lugosi occasionally, but Villarias feels like self-mockery already in the works, and - through both his performance and some differences in the writing/direction - comes across as a clownish idiot rather than a superior monster or an elegant aristocrat. The Spanish Dracula has its ups and downs, but Villarias certainly proves that one bad element can bring down an otherwise decent product.

4. Peter Karrie, from Nosferatu the Vampire: The Musical.

I am aware of at least four musical theatre interpretations of Dracula. The most famous one is a stage show by Frank Wildhorn, which isn’t great, but does have some good songs and has been done quite a few times with great actors. Another was a concept album by the musical trio of Evans, Orton, and Lynn; that one featured Michael McCarthy as the Count, and was never actually staged. Like the Wildhorn show, it’s not really that great, but it has a few good songs and performers. There’s also a musical comedy version, which I haven’t actually looked at, but I’ve heard is pretty good…and then there’s this show. Ostensibly, “Nosferatu the Vampire: The Musical” is a musical adaptation of the classic silent film “Nosferatu,” which is widely considered the first true Dracula movie ever made, and is certainly the oldest surviving adaptation. HOWEVER, that’s not really the case: the show is really sort of a blend of Nosferatu, the Bram Stoker novel, and some original material, all rolled into one…and it is ABYSMAL. I was SHOCKED to learn that this show has been staged more than once, and that the original cast recording actually featured some pretty big names in musical theatre. The most notable is poor Peter Karrie, one of the greatest performers of another Gothic legend, the Phantom of the Opera. I’ll give Karrie credit, his voice is beautiful (he’s played the Angel of Music, it kind of has to be), but not even his golden pipes can save this train wreck. The plot is terrible, the characters are bland, the morals are confusing, and there’s WAY too much focus on the sexual angles of the story in this for my comfort. (The sensuality of the vampire IS a topic that is present in the book, mind you, and far from something new...but you have to be VERY careful how you touch it. Trust me.) Worst of all, the music - very frankly - just isn’t that good. The lyrics are vapid and rambling, the orchestration and rhythms feel very “samey” throughout…it’s just DULL. With the other musicals, I can at least give them credit for a few catchy numbers, but this one? I can’t really remember much of anything these characters say or sing, I just remember the boredom and nonsense of the whole clumsy heap. As a result, Karrie’s shot at playing the Count is essentially the opposite of our previous pick: sometimes not even having a great performer can save terrible material, and this is a good example of that.

3. The Version from “Dracula: Sovereign of the Damned.”

I’ll confess that I hesitated to include this Dracula on the list - as well as another one later on - because he’s actually based on Marvel’s Dracula, specifically. Marvel’s Dracula - in other things - has been good. However, after some minor debate, I felt that both of the aforementioned versions simply HAD to be addressed, since - ties to Marvel or not - they are abominable interpretations. Released in some countries under the title “The Tomb of Dracula” (taken from the comic series it is purportedly based on), “Sovereign of the Damned” was an anime movie made by Toei, released in the early 80s. In the original Japanese version, the Count is voiced by Kenji Utsumi; in English, he’s dubbed - VERY badly - by Tom Wyner. If you’re wondering if the dubbing is in any way a contributing factor to this film’s terribleness…don’t worry: this movie is ATROCIOUS no matter what language the characters speak. (Believe me, I know.) The film unwisely attempts to adapt an entire many-issue comic series into a single hour-and-a-half-long story, which works about as well as you’d expect. The plot is like the Grinch’s soul: “an appalling dump heap, overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable, mangled up in tangled up knots.” Character development goes entirely out the window, and Dracula himself arguably suffers the worst for this. The Count comes across as a total klutz in the film: the movie attempts to make him a sympathetic anti-hero, but the story is such a shambles you never really get to know him well enough to root for him, and he spends most of the movie either running away from danger or being foiled at every turn, with little indication of how truly powerful he really is. He comes across as an idiot much of the time, and isn’t even present for a big chunk of the film to begin with! With a title like “Sovereign of the Damned,” I can safely say I expected more.

2. All of the Actors from Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires.

This is probably one of the weirdest Dracula movies I’ve ever seen, as well as one of the worst. “Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires” was an out-of-continuity entry in the popular Hammer Dracula series, which famously starred Christopher Lee as the Count. At the time “Seven Golden Vampires” came out, however, Lee had left the role, feeling deeply disappointed by the previous and “official” final film in the series, “The Satanic Rites of Dracula.” Hammer studios, meanwhile, was teetering on the brink of collapse, and was really struggling for creative ideas. The result of these combined problems led to this colossal, mad junkyard of a movie: a bizarre blend of Kung Fu action adventure and Gothic chiller. Now, this combination, on its own terms, I actually don’t think is a totally bad idea: if you look far enough, you’ll find good examples of how you can blend the styles of martial-arts-focused action and Gothic horror together. This, however, is not one of them, and part of the problem stems from how poorly Dracula, himself, is managed. Without Lee to handle the reins, Hammer called instead upon contract player John Forbes-Robertson to play the Count. However, Forbes-Robertson doesn’t even GET to play Dracula for most of the film: he only appears at the beginning and in the climactic final battle between himself and Van Helsing. For most of the movie, Dracula’s spirit has possessed the body of a Chinese criminal known as Kah, played by Chan Shen. Instead of getting Forbes-Robertson to do the voice, Kah’s “Dracula Voice” is provided instead by dubbing actor David de Keyser. All three of these actors…are terrible. Forbes-Robertson is a stiff and somewhat silly Dracula when he is onscreen, and is defeated in a highly anticlimactic way in the end. Chan Shen as Kah comes across as a caricature more than a true "character," and his bodily performance feels like a strange blend of kabuki and English pantomime. Meanwhile, Keyser’s very badly-dubbed performance is wooden and stilted. When it takes three men to replace just one, and NONE of them do the job even remotely well? It feels like a true disgrace not only to the character, but also to the one who played him before. I’ll give all three of them this, they at least help to show what made Lee’s Dracula so singlehandedly spectacular.

1. Dominic Purcell, from Blade: Trinity.

This is the other Marvel Dracula on the list I mentioned a while ago. All of my entries up till now have been very long-winded, I know…but my reasons for naming poor Dominic Purcell from the abominable shambles that is “Blade: Trinity” as my pick for the absolute worst Dracula I’ve ever seen is much easier to explain. That reason can be summed up in the following phrase: this is not Dracula. This simply isn’t. I get what the movie was attempting to do - trying to focus on Dracula as this ancient, demonic warrior figure rather than “the Count,” so to speak. However, as various other versions have shown, there are ways you can focus on the “aggressive” aspects of Dracula AND STILL MAKE HIM FEEL LIKE DRACULA. Purcell is simply miscast and misdirected: he doesn’t look like a duck, he doesn’t quack like a duck, he doesn’t waddle like a duck, and therefore it’s fair to say he ain’t Duckula. I’m sure he’s trying his best, but - and it's a shame to say these words - his best just isn’t good enough. For that reason, above all else, he takes the number one spot on this list. There is literally no worse sin I can think of than looking at someone playing such a character and having nothing else to say but, “you, sir, are no Dracula.” 

(DIS)HONORABLE MENTIONS INCLUDE…

Leslie Nielsen, from Dracula: Dead and Loving It.

I know lots of people actually like this movie, but I personally do not. I just don’t think it’s very funny, for the most part, and even as far as spoofs go, I feel Leslie Nielsen is a weird choice for the character. It isn’t completely terrible, however - there’s a few jokes that make me laugh strewn throughout, and I like Peter MacNicol as Renfield - so it gets a pass from the top five.

Lon Chaney, Jr. from Son of Dracula.

It’s left somewhat ambiguous if the character in this film, “Count Alucard,” is indeed the Son of Dracula, or Dracula himself. This, for the record, is why things like “Hellsing” and “Castlevania” have used the name Alucard for both purposes: this is the movie that came up with that alias. While the invention of the name is noteworthy, the film itself is flawed. Chaney - God bless him - is woefully miscast. Whether he’s Dracula OR his Son, I think he did much better in his other Universal Monster roles.

Udo Kier, from Andy Warhol’s Dracula AND Langley Kirkwood, from Dracula 3000.

In both of these cases, I haven't even FINISHED these movies because they're just so freaking terrible. I've only seen parts of them, never the full thing through. I didn't feel it was fair to give them actual placement on the ranks as a result, but they're definitely worth noting for their own dreadfulness levels. In Udo Kier's case, I'd much rather watch him riding on the back of a T. Rex...bravo, if you got that reference.

[bougiebutchbitch]

Bougie your art is so pretty oh my gosh 🥺 you always put such nice details into clothes folds and your shading. Your most recent art piece + the one where they’re kissing on the table you drew awhile back, those are my favorites so far, especially with the colors!!! please infodump to me about the two funky little dudes you’ve been drawing!! I must know more about them so I can swan dive into your newest fics!!! -🌟

AHHHHHHH Gosh gosh starburst anon - as always, you flatter me! And also as always, i love it

The two funky little dudes are House and Wilson from the highly bingeable hospital procedural, House MD. They're basically Holmes and Watson, but instead of investigating crime, they're trying to diagnose and cure dangerous rare diseases! They're both very interesting, multi-dimensional, and, frankly horrible characters - they care for each other very much, but also constantly hurt each other.

It's like watching a car crash! You just can't look away.

House is your classic tortured genius - autistic coded, addicted to painkillers, in chronic agony from an old wound to his leg (yes I know it was Watson with the cane and bad leg originally, shhh), depressed-borderline-suicidal (he attempts suicide. many times. on screen.). A savant with an attitude problem who struggles to let anyone close, he's emotionally closed-off yet also incredibly vulnerable. He has more daddy issues than the average seahorse, and - oh yes - he's canonically a massive brat.

He's a total prick to everyone around him, with an average of thirty hatecrimes against minorities per episode. On the rare occasion he lets someone get close, he will then spend the rest of their relationship pushing and pushing and pushing and pushing until they snap and leave him, because he's incapable of feeling secure and uncomfortable with being loved. Yet at the same time, he clings to anyone who puts up with him and will fight in the most underhanded and dirty ways to make them stay close to him, because he's absolutely desperate for human affection.

He's also just... an ass.

He's played by Hugh Laurie of British comedy fame - he of the Exceedingly Expressive Eyebrows and incredibly versatile musical talents. In this series, he shows off that he has range, and can also play a scruffy, sharp-cheekboned Sad And Snarky Doctor with very pretty big blue eyes.

Wilson is House's sidekick, his carer, his best friend, his brother, his totally-a-lover, his dom, his everything, his reason for living. He just struggles to figure out who he is outside of House. He's an Oncologist who specifically went into a field where the ends are almost always pre-determined. Kind, mannerly and gentle, he is beloved by his patients and has such a sympathetic bedside manner that he regularly gets thanked for delivering terminal diagnoses.

He is authoritiatve and stubborn - but incapable of making decisions in his own interest, rather than to please someone else. Ridiculously competitive - but a total enabler when it comes to watching House ruin his life in a thousand different and entertaining ways.

He's also an awful person. A compulsive cheater on each of his wives, he's a manipulative asshole, and isn't afraid to gaslight House to get his own way. He is very, very, very good at convincing everyone that he's Nice and Friendly - himself included - even when he's doing the most heinous things. He plays House's conscience so much that he's 100% convinced of his righteousness - as is House, to a degree. Even when Wilson is very, very wrong.

(But most of the time, he does have a point.)

These two have a wonderful, fascinating and dangerously codependant narrative, and I love them both so much.