#molly has always appealed to me but its. girl name

[p2iimon]

im taking up the name simon. like as a secondary name. just so u know

[hotcryptidsinyourarea]

Falling for the Frogman of Loveland, Ohio

story synopsis: Molly is a 30-something cookbook editor who has decided to move from New York to Loveland, Ohio after a bad breakup and a desire for a fresh start. She is instantly attracted to her neighbor Jeremiah's midwestern charms, but this local guy is much more than meets the eye...

human (she/her) + interdimensional humanoid frogman (he/him) cw: social anxiety, existential pondering, negative self-talk

Chapter 3

My body and mind are so exhausted, I sleep in an hour later than I usually do. The fact that my new bed is very comfortable also facilitates this late start, but I don’t really have it in me to complain about that. I finally pry myself from between the sheets and get dressed for my first full day in my new home. First thing’s first: coffee. 

I do a quick search for the closest non-chain coffee shop to my place. Part of the appeal of moving to a smaller community is supporting the local business culture. Never again will I spend $10 on a tall, burnt-ass latte from the Bucks. There’s one on Loveland Madeira alongside all the other fast food chains, but I’m going to avoid it like the plague. It’s the weirdest thing in New York: everybody talks about how much they love their neighborhood coffee shops, but no matter when or how you see them in real life, there will always be that ubiquitous siren-logo’d cup planted firmly in hand. It’s like some grand delusion we all pretend we’re not a part of. 

No that I think people in a small town are paragons of virtue or anything. I know there is hypocrisy and assholes everywhere you go. But you spend enough time in one place and eventually you have the right to gripe about it as much as your little black heart desires! Or that’s what I tell myself, I guess. Part of me will always love New York and I truly look forward to going back and visiting. But the agitation I feel at just a passing reminder of the city tells me I made the right move leaving town. I just hope this place ends up being where I’m supposed to be. 

Well, what better way to get a feel for a new town than running a couple of normal, domestic errands? Namely: coffee. Let’s fucking gooooooo!

_____________________________________________________________

I’m loving the decor at the Blue Chip Roasters coffee shop. The amount of hearty wood furnishing and exposed burl fixtures gives it a Twin Peaks vibe without being derivative. It’s warm and homey and the scent of fresh coffee brewing makes my mouth water. There’s a huge wraparound counter that isolates the staff area behind the machines and cash register, which lines up with the doorway so you can walk right up to it. On the other side of the counter are bar stools occupied by various coffee drinkers who are all immersed in their books or laptops. It’s simple but welcoming. A satisfactory first impression, for sure. 

It’s a blessedly simple menu. They only have two types of milk, whole and oat, but I’ve never strayed from the classic whole milk-coffee combination anyways. Full fat means full flavor and that’s what I want. I order a double iced latte and a cinnamon roll for breakfast. As I drop in a dollar for tip, I notice the jar is covered in stickers and such all depicting some artists’ renditions of an anthropomorphic frog. In big block letters it reads: 

>> DON’T FROG-ET TO TIP! - LFM <<

“Who is LFM?” I ask the girl working the register. 

“Oh, it stands for Loveland Frogman. You’ve never heard of it?” 

“I can’t say that I have, but I’m new in town. Like, brand new.” 

“Oh, well it’s just a dumb local legend. Years ago, a couple cops saw a lizard standing on its hind legs and told everyone they saw a Frogman. Locals have kind of taken it on as a mascot of sorts even though it’s fake as fuck.” 

“It’s NOT fake,” says the kid behind the espresso machine pulling shots. “The Frogman is real. That lizard story is a cover-up ordered by the FBI. Ask anyone from around here and they’ll tell you a story about them or someone they know spotting him at some point.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” the cashier rolls her eyes. “The people that claim to see him are just dumbasses lying so they can be the center of attention for a moment. Either that or meth heads.” 

“It wasn’t a frog at all,” says a third worker sweeping something up behind the counter. “It was an alien. A being from another dimension. That’s why the FBI wanted to cover him up. No one cares about some overgrown science project.” 

The local color of it all has me stunned silent. I am not used to talking this much with strangers. Honestly, I felt like I was pushing it by asking the cashier in the first place. I was half expecting a snide fuck-if-I-know dismissal. And now after instigating the conversation, I find myself at a loss for words. Great! I have no idea how to get out of this in the correct, polite way. I’m a decade out of practice. Thankfully, a voice coming from a bar stool in my periphery offers me a blessed interjection to keep me from looking as dumb as I feel.  

“Don’t listen to them. They’re just messing with you because you said you’re new in town. We don’t get a lot of ‘new’ around here often. A lot of the same,” says the guy. I turn to look at him, remembering the most rudimentary of manners, but what I see doesn’t help my muteness because this dude is good looking. 

Very good looking, one might say. 

Ridiculously, if you’re so inclined. 

I get that feeling in my chest that makes me feel like I’m twelve years old again and my friend Jessica’s older brother Adam would walk in the room while we watched TV– like it’s suddenly difficult to to take a full, deep breath and a heat spreads across my shoulders and chest. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way. I am completely flustered. I break eye contact to fumble through my wallet for an extra couple dollars to throw in the tip jar. Fuck! I need to work on my spontaneous conversation skills. I wasn’t expecting to experience culture shock quite to this extent, but I guess even just one state away is a whole other place, isn’t it? 

“Where are you from?” asks the guy. A straightforward question that I am perfectly capable of answering… hopefully. 

“I moved here from New Yor–” I manage to croak out, stumbling over that last syllable. I clear my throat. “York. I moved here from New York.” 

“New York City?” 

“The very one.” 

“Why would you leave New York to come to Loveland of all places?” he asks. “Most people are doing everything in their power to make it out of here.” 

“Oh, you know, sometimes the place a person needs is the last place you’d expect,” I reply. Looking back at the cashier, they have an incredulous look on their face like I’m speaking crazy talk. 

“Whatever you say, lady.” They hand me my coffee, my transaction finally complete. I lift the cup in salute and give a tight mouthed smile to the hot guy at the bar. He lifts his cup in return, a good humored smile plastered on his face. 

As I leave the coffee shop and settle into the driver’s seat of my car, I’m suddenly hit with the realization that I answered that hot guy’s question with the kind of trite bullshit normally reserved for Pinterest quotes. 

“Sometimes the place a person needs is the last place you’d expect,” I repeat back to myself. “What the FUCK does that mean, you dumbass weirdo bitch?” The heat I felt across my chest has definitely spread across my face. Luckily, there’s no cute coffee guy to see my embarrassment as I drive back home. 

_____________________________________________________________

Once I’m back home with my coffee and cinnamon roll, I park it back outside on the iron patio set and enjoy my breakfast. With a little food and caffeine in my system, I realize I may have been overreacting to the little interaction at the coffee shop. It probably wasn’t as bad as it was in my head. I was just hungry and fatigued from moving. No big deal. 

I hear the doorbell and go to let the internet installation technician inside. I’m impressed that he showed up so early in the estimated service window. It wasn’t uncommon for me to wait all day for a tech in New York only for no one to show up when they said they would. The next day or so, I’d often get a call while out and about. 

“Hi ma’am it’s George from Concast. I’m here to install your internet. Can you let me in?” 

“Let you in? You were supposed to come yesterday. I didn’t get any notification that you’d come today– I’m not here.” 

“Well, I need to be let in to install your internet…”

“But I’m not there. We’ll just have to reschedule.” 

“Next availability is in two weeks.” 

“GODDAMMIT. Wait right there– I’ll be back as soon as possible!” 

But none of that rigamarole is happening now. At this moment, I am reading a book on my back patio with an iced coffee and a cinnamon bun while Lyle sets up my fiber internet at the exact time he was scheduled to do it. Life is good. 

Okay, I may be looking at everything with rose colored glasses, but I’ll allow myself to bask in my new home serenity for a little while longer. What can it hurt to take the time to enjoy the fact that things are going smoothly? Back in the city, it felt like I was constantly having to strive for things to work. They rarely did and any hint of them possibly doing so was dashed with such expedience I never allowed myself the luxury of thinking that I possibly deserved for things to be easier. 

There was no way for me to get to that point when stuck in constant survival mode. The city is a beast, constantly growing. So even if you get to a point where you’re realizing some sort of comfort, the beast will continue to expand and shift until your complacency gets you displaced. It’s exhausting! I guess the hustle gives you something to live for– that’s why you see so many 80-year old women wandering around the streets of Manhattan. But they’re a hard eighty. And you can’t help but think they’re not there because they want to bust their asses just to make it through a day, but because they simply don’t even know there are other ways to live. Humans are creatures of habit. We find comfort in conformity. We create these confines and then tell ourselves because we made them, we must also work within them. 

It’s logical: as animals, we are bound by evolutionary instinct to find and keep a lifestyle that enables us to be productive– namely, reproductive– so that drives us to make choices that are safe and keep us connected. But I don’t think it’s extreme to say we as humans can and should continue to evolve past base evolutionary drive. It’s not imperative for all of us to be constantly productive. We have machines and programs that help us do a lot of the heavy lifting so that we may spend more time enjoying the world we’ve been gifted. And just as these advancements further separate us from any quote/unquote “natural way” of existence, we should consider the possibility that breaking free from our patterns and choosing not to conform to the established expectations may serve us positively. 

Of course, it’s that “new is better” mindset that led Mark to breaking up with me. He saw moving in together as conforming to the established expectations of those around us and he couldn’t do it. So perhaps I’m a hypocrite waxing poetic on the evils of conformity. No ideology would’ve stopped me from moving in with him. I was dead set on doing the expected. 

Except, I didn’t see it as settling. I saw it as an exciting new experience that just happened to promise a bit of security alongside the novel. There is adventure to be found alongside someone you can rely on. I guess at the end of the day, we broke up over a difference of perspective. If you’re going to build a life with someone, you should both see your future from the same vantage point. 

_____________________________________________________________

With the internet working and full stomach, I’m ready to continue unpacking. It’s not so much the unboxing that’s taking up my time. But with every essential item I unwrap, I’m reminded of something I’ll need to buy in the process of turning this house into a home. It feels a little consumerist, but I fully intend to take my time in accumulating these items and purchase with quality in mind, so I don’t sweat it.

Well, I don’t sweat the prospective shopping. Unpacking boxes does work up quite the literal sweat, however. It’s almost 6 pm and I am in desperate need of an end-of-the-day shower. Before I hop in, I pull up a food app and find the best rated Thai restaurant in my delivery area. I put in an order for pad thai and spring rolls and receive an hour delivery estimate– plenty of time to get clean before dinner, so I hop in the shower. 

I’m right in the middle of rinsing the conditioner from my hair when I hear the doorbell. An hour was either an incredibly inaccurate delivery estimate or it took me much, much longer to wash my hair than it normally does. 

“WAIT!” I holler towards the door as I wrap myself in my favorite extra large, super fluffy bath towel. “I’M COMING! I’M COMING!” I scurry as fast as I can to the door, probably looking like a drowned rat. 

“I’m so sor–” I halt as soon as I see who’s on the other side of the door. It isn’t my Thai food at all. It’s the guy from the coffee shop– the hot one who rescued me from my social awkwardness. He has that charming smile on his face, but it fades a bit as he gets a good look at me. In a breath of realization, his eyes go up to the sky as a pink blush spreads across his face. It’s kind of adorable, to be honest. 

“I am so sorry,” he says. “I’m your… we’re neigh– I live a couple doors down,” he fumbles through. “I wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood.” 

“We– we met earlier, right? At the coffee shop?” I find myself once again in a situation I haven’t experienced in quite some time. Fourteen years in New York and not once did I have a neighbor come to my door to introduce themselves. I’m not even certain if I’m expected to invite him in. I certainly don’t know how to proceed when I’ve opened the door but a single layer of terrycloth between my nude body and the– admittedly gorgeous– welcome wagon. Thankfully, the wagon in question seems steady on the trail. 

“Yes! Yeah, that was me. Hey– I can, you know, wait here a second if you want to…” he makes a vague gesture towards the towel. 

“Oh! That would be great, yes. But you don’t have to wait outside. Please, come on in.”

He gives me a wary look. “Are you sure? I don’t mind…” 

“Yeah, I guess it’s not exactly best practice to let some guy I just met into my home while I’m changing, huh? I’m sorry, I just don’t want to be rude.” 

“You’re not, I promise. Go ahead, I can wait here. I’m patient.” 

Now I’m the one who’s blushing. Blushing a nude in front of a strange man. Mother would be so proud. I give him a sheepish smile as I close the door then scurry back to my room to throw on the nearest clothes I can get my hands on. I make a pit stop to take a peek in the bathroom mirror, rub the smudged mascara from under my eyes, and run my fingers through my hair. It’s not much, I think looking at my sorry state, but it’s what I got. 

I head back to the front door and take a moment to compose myself to come off with a false air of nonchalance. Fake it til you make it, right? 

I open the door and see him leaning against the wall and looking through his phone casually. I notice for the first time he’s holding a bottle of wine in the other hand. He looks up and catches my eye. A smirk sprawls across his face. 

“Woah– that was quick!” he says. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a lot of things unpacked here at the moment, so I don’t have much to sift through. Cuts down on the decision fatigue when choosing what to wear, for sure.” 

His smile brightens and it puts my entire body on high alert. I may not be nearly naked anymore, but looking at this guy makes me feel so exposed, like he’s seeing things about me that I’m not even aware of. I’m a grown ass woman, but this guy has me feeling bashful for the first time in years. 

“Come on in,” I move aside and open the door completely to let him inside the house. “I think you’ve proven you’re trustworthy enough.” 

“Cool, yeah.. I mean, thanks.. Yeah.” His stammering is endearing. There’s something comforting in the shared awkwardness as if the meeting of two awkward nerds cancels us out into being normal. “I’m Jeremiah,” he introduces himself and holds his hand out to shake. 

“Molly,” I grasp his hand in return. “It’s nice to officially meet you.” 

“Yeha! I hope you don’t find this creepy, but earlier I noticed the internet guy in your driveway and realized someone had finally moved into this place. The for sale sign was taken down about a week ago and I was wondering when you’d show up. Then when you said you just moved here at the coffee shop earlier, I thought maybe the new owner could be you.”

“And it is!” I interrupt. “I mean, I am. That is to say… It's kismet.” Jesus Christ. Is that something people say? Can I even define “kismet?”  Am I just embarrassing myself here? 

“Exactly!” His smile breaks my shame spiral. “It’s always worth noting when we get to witness the stars aligning in real time.” He holds the bottle of wine up to eye level for me. “I brought you a housewarming gift. It’s nothing special– I wasn’t even certain if bringing wine to a stranger is appropriate. But it’s a pretty dry red. I thought if you don’t drink, you can use it for cooking.” 

“I do! I mean, I do drink. Thank you, you’re very kind and I feel quite welcome.” I take the bottle and scan the label. It’s a Chianti I’ve never tried before. “This looks beautiful. Would you like to have a glass with me?” 

“Um… sure! That sounds nice. Do you have glasses?” 

“I don’t have stemware, but I have a couple cups that will do. Plus,” I pause to rummage in the drawer where I stashed my well loved wine key the night before, “I have this!” I grab the water glasses I have from the cupboard and start working the corkscrew into the top of the bottle. 

“Please, allow me.” Jeremiah takes the wine and key from me and effortlessly drills deep into the cork, angling the bottle away from him. He looks me directly in the eye as he pushes the lever away from him and removes the cork with an muffled POP.

What in the actual fuck? How was that so… hot? 

He grabs the glasses and distributes even, modest pours in each of them before handing me one. “Cheers,” he says, lifting his own glass, “to your new home.” 

“And new neighbors,” I clink my cup against his, immediately questioning whether that was smooth or just pathetically thirsty. Either way, I take a sip. I notice his eyes darting around, taking in the details of the house. 

“This place is almost the exact same layout as my place, just reversed.” 

“Really?” I ask. “Is that unusual?” 

“Not really, no. These subdivisions are financed and built before they’re ever sold. Developers will have a handful of blueprints and rotate between them while building. I guess keeping everything as uniform as possible allows them to churn out houses quickly and reduces the risk of error. You build the same house over and over again, you can probably throw them up in your sleep.” 

“Or they get so overconfident and cocky, they begin to slack off and make mistakes.” 

“Oof. You’re telling me. Complacency can definitely lead to miscalculations.” He takes another sip before continuing. “Happens in my work all the time.” 

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

He winces. “It’s kind of hard to explain– not that it’s beyond your understanding,” he reassures me and my heart melts ever so slightly. “But, basically, I track and predict rainfall.” 

“You’re a meteorologist?” 

“No. I don’t really know much about weather in general. It’s more like I use statistics to estimate which places will experience flood or drought in the near future. I then use those estimates to inform the purchase and sale of certain commodities.” 

“Commodities. Like food?” 

“Food is a big part of it, yes. But also a lot of precious metals and whatnot. And oil. There’s always oil.” 

“So you’re a gambler,” I tease. He grins in response. 

“An informed gambler, yes. But, you know– no risk, no reward.” 

“Well it does sound pretty interesting. More so than what I do.” 

“Which is?” 

“I am an editor for a publishing company that specializes in highly stylized cookbooks. A lot of Housewives for housewives kind of content. I basically make sure that what the authors– or, at least, their ghostwriters– put in their drafts all make sense. You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve caught cups– multiple cups– of salt from being added to a dessert recipe.” 

“That sounds interesting to me,” he says, being polite. I appreciate it nonetheless. “So does that mean you know how to cook a lot of different things?” 

I guffaw. “In theory, at least. I’m not a talented chef by any means, but I can make a meal.” I realize that at every chance I get, I’m diminishing myself in this conversation. When did I fall into that little habit? But before I can think much more about it, my doorbell rings. “Speaking of meals, that would be the takeout I thought you were.” I answer the door and thank the delivery person after they hand me my order. When I come back, I see Jeremiah rinsing out his now empty glass of wine before gently placing it in the sink. 

“Well this seems like the perfect opening for me to make a graceful exit. I’ll leave you to enjoy your dinner.” He gives me a genuine smile and reaches out to shake my hand goodbye. “It was really great meeting you. I’m excited to have someone cool in the neighborhood. And if you need anything, anything,” he gives my hand a squeeze on the emphasis and while making some very effective eye contact, “don’t hesitate to ask.” 

Damn. My new neighbor is hot.

[carriagelamp]

Art of Aardman

I found myself a cheap copy of the Shaun the Sheep movie, so I was rewatching a bunch of Aardman films earlier this month and decided to hunt down some books too. For anyone that doesn’t know, Aardman is a British stop-motion studio that does fantastic work like Wallace and Gromit, Shaun the Sheep, Chicken Run, Early Man… tons of cool stuff. They’re always quirky and funny and warm-hearted. This was just a very nice art book for anyone that’s a fan of Aardman stop motion and wants to see a bit extra; it shows some cool concept art and blows up the neat details in Aardman work, especially in their intricate stuff like The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists!

Asterix and the Picts (Asterix and the Chariot Race, and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion)

I decided to try a couple of the new Asterix comics that were done by the new team, just to see if they stand up to the old ones (that and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion cause I’d never read that one before). They were pretty decent! Asterix and the Picts was my favourite of the two though I wouldn’t say either are going to contest for my favourite Asterix comic... but still! The art looks good and the stories felt like what I would expect, they made for a pleasant couple evenings of reading especially since it’s been so long since I’ve read a new Asterix comic. If you’ve never read Asterix it’s one of the biggest name French comic series in North America, as far as I know and very worth the read. It’s about a single Gaulish village that’s holding out against the invading Romans through sheer force of will, slapstick hijinks, and a magical super-strength potion brewed by their druid. Lots of fantastic visuals and cute wordplay, even in the English translations.

Bear

I found out about this bastion of Canadian literature via tumblr post that was losing its collective mind over the fact that some bizarre bear-based erotica novella somehow won the most prestigious literary prize available in Canada. Since I too found this hilarious and unspeakably bizarre I had to give it a read, obviously. And yes, the flat surface level summary is... a librarian moves out into rural Ontario and falls in love with a literal for-real not-supernatural-not-a-joke bear. And I have to say… it is actually worthy of an award, which I was not expecting given that I was there for a laugh. It has beautiful writing, and the subtextual story is pretty interesting… it kind of makes me think of The Haunting of Hill House actually in terms of themes. (Womanhood, personhood, independence, autonomy partially achieved through escaping the male gaze by claiming non-human lovers... listen if I were still in university I would right a paper comparing the two novels).

I dunno man, it’s fucking weird. Actually a well-written book, but sure is about a woman falling in love with a literal bear. Give it a read if you want something bonkers but like… high-brow bonkers.

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites

Best book I have read in like… a while. A long while. I am not a fast reader, and I consumed 90% of this book over a weekend. It’s not at all like Terry Pratchett, but at the same time it scratched an itch for me that I haven’t had satisfied since Pratchett’s death. A very clever, hilariously funny poly romance between a disabled werewolf, an anxious vampire lord, and an incredibly powerful woman, with heaps of social satire, political commentary, and sinister undertones. The whole thing reads a bit like fanfiction and I say that in the most flattering way possible -- it is so easy to jump right in and be immediately taken over by the characters and the world and the plot, you never feel like you’re fighting to engage even though the world-building is fascinating and expansive. It welcomes you in right away, it was the book equivalent of a quilt and a hug which is something I sorely needed with all this pandemic bullshit. If you read any of the books on this list, go read that one while I sit here in pain waiting for the sequel.

Kid Paddle

I watched the cartoon of Kid Paddle as a kid and was thinking about it recently, so I decided to hunt down some of the original comics online. They’re fun and weird, with a cute art style and fantastic monsters designs. (My favourites are always about Kid either daydreaming or playing games that involve Midam’s weird warty troll creatures. It’s like a cross between Calvin and Hobbes and Foxtrot with the fun sort of quirks that I love in Belgian comics. Unfortunately, unlike Asterix, I’ve only come across these ones in French, but if you can read French it’s totally worth popping over to The Internet Archive and reading the ones they have available.

The Last Firehawk: The Golden Temple

The lastest Firehawk book. Despite being written for quite young readers, I did enjoy the early books in this series quite a bit. They’re about a young owl and squirrel who found an egg for a magical species that was believed to be extinct. With the newly hatched firehawk, the three of them head off on a mission to find an ancient firehawk magic that could save the entire forest. Very basic adventure story but a good intro to the tropes for children. Unfortunately the quality really feels like it drops with each subsequent book; this will probably be the last one I bother reading.

Lumberjanes: The Moon Is Up

I honestly think I enjoy these Lumberjanes novels even more than the comics just because it really gives time to delve into each story and examine how the camper are really thinking and feeling about everything. (Also I’m always weak for novelizations of anything.) The Moon Is Up is a book that focuses more on Jo, and takes place during the camp’s much anticipated Galaxy Wars, a competition between cabins that goes over several days. While the campers prepare for these challenges though, they also run into a strange little creature with a penchant for cheese and theft. Roanoke cabin needs to keep ahead in Galaxy Wars and somehow deal with the fearsome Moon Pirates that a closing in...

Lumberjanes v4 (Out Of Time)

One of the Lumberjanes comics, a cool, girl-focused, queer comic series. Honestly, this is just a fun series that I never got as into as I should have. My advice is honestly to skip book one because it gets better as it continues, and I’ve really been enjoying the later books now that I’ve given it another go. It follows five campers at Miss Qiunzella Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s Camp for Hardcore Lady Types (Jo, April, Molly, Mal, and Ripley) as they handle all sorts of challenges, from friendship to crushes, camp activities to supernatural horrors, getting badges to not being brutally killed. Great if you liked the vibe of Gravity Falls but want it to be queer-er.

Mooncakes

Another queer graphic novel, but unfortunately not a very good one. It really looked appealing and I had high hopes, but the book itself really didn’t hold up… I actually couldn’t even finish it, the plot was just too… non-existent. The art is fairly mediocre once you actually look at it, especially backgrounds, and it feels very… placid. Not much conflict or excitement or even a very compelling reason to keep reading. If you just want a soft queer supernatural you may get more mileage out of it than me, but it didn’t really do it for me. There’s better queer graphic novels out there.

New Boy In Town

One of the worst books I have ever read. My girlfriend had ordered a very different book online but through a frankly stupendous error was sent this 1980s pulp romance instead. Absolutely nauseating on levels I couldn’t even begin to enumerate here. Naturally we read the whole thing out loud. Probably took us 10 times longer to finish than it warranted because I had to stop every two sentences to lose my mind. If you like bad decisions, baffling hetero courting rituals, built-in cultural Christianity without actually calling it that, and gold panning then boy howdy is this the book for you.

(seriously, you better have patience for gold-panning if you attempt this one, because I sure learn that I don’t)

Piggies

This was a picture book I enjoyed as a kid and had a reason to reread recently. Honestly it’s just very cute and simple, and the art is completely mesmerizing. Wonderful if you know a young child that would enjoy a simple goofy boardbook.

Shaun the Sheep: Tales From Mossy Bottom

Related to my Aardman fascination earlier this month. I tried reading a varieties of Shaun the Sheep books — most of which are mediocre at best — but the Tales From Mossy Bottom Farm series is genuinely good. Just chapter books, of course, but the illustrations match the series’ concept art and each story feels like it could have jumped directly out of an episode. They’re just cute and feel-good! Kinda like Footrot Flats but more for kids, and from the sheep’s perspective moreso than the dog’s.

[snlhostharry]

to be determined / one

harry styles x reader friends with benefits au

soon after moving to new york, you meet harry styles at a party. you convince yourself that there’s nothing between the two of you until it becomes too intense to ignore. if you keep telling yourself that he doesn’t mean anything to you, does that make it true?

a/n: hi everyone! welcome to my first harry styles series. This originally started as a challenge for myself to try and write a harry fic inspired by taylor swift songs so that’s where the chapter titles come from, it’s kind of become something bigger than that but I figured I would keep the theme anyway 

chapter 1: welcome to new york

The story starts in New York City. 

A place written about in countless stories, about love, about heartbreak, about giving up, about standing tall, and about putting broken hearts into drawers and slamming them shut. It’s easy to say that writing another story about New York is beating a dead horse, throwing characters into the same tired old setting and letting them live out the writer's wildest daydream. But it’s never been about the city itself, it’s always been about the people. Something about the city always manages to be the perfect stomping ground for people, for characters to find each other in a  whirlwind of A list parties and harsh billboard lights. 

Speaking of which you are suddenly very sick of said harsh billboard lights in the middle of times square. As someone who has read (and written) countless articles describing times square as a flurry of activity but also with some kind of inherent magical appeal, the center of everything it’s own small utopia, you know that everyone who wrote that had to be aware of their own bullshit. It’s a nuanced way of tourist trapping, smart, albeit annoying on a variety of levels. A gimmick to get wide eyed little girls to stand in the middle of chaos and think that maybe they could carve out a place for themselves here. 

You’re not trying to carve out a place for yourself, you’re trying to get to a stupid party. That and manage to not get any mud or other stains on this very nice dress you’re wearing. After what seems like forever of looking around and then suddenly looking back down at your phone just in case anyone wanted to even try to make eye contact with you, familiar faces appear out of the sea of people. 

You greet them with a look of disappointment, “Two questions: why did you want to meet here-” a tourist elbows there way past you mid sentence, inadvertently proving your point, “-and why aren’t we just taking an uber?” 

Molly, a tall black woman with objectively perfect hair (which is somehow gorgeous at all times), smiles and pats your shoulder like a kindergarten teacher, “I thought you would want to see Times Square.”

“I’ve seen it,” You shoot back, squinting again at the bright light coming from directly behind her head, and adjusting your jacket over your shoulders. 

She squeezes your shoulder quickly, “And also to teach you that any time someone asks you to meet them in Times Square  they’re fucking with you.”

“I figured you were fucking with me,” You tell her, “But thank you, god forbid the midwestern girl gets lost in Times Square waiting for someone to meet her who is obviously not coming.” 

Molly laughs, and so do you. She looks down at her phone briefly, and then back at you, “To answer your question, why would anyone ever try to get an uber in the city at seven?” 

You shrug, “What kind of self respecting party starts at eight?” 

Fletcher, who’s name admittedly sounds like it should belong to anyone but him, finally stops staring at the large elmo mascot a few feet away and jumps into the conversation. “The kind with an age range, twenty somethings to late thirty somethings, who no longer have the energy to go from nine to six am.” 

You sigh, “So boring then or-?”

“It’s about networking,” Molly says, “And also drinking, but mostly networking.” 

“One of those unique business opportunities where you get free food, and possibly run into celebrities, singers mostly.” 

You roll your eyes, “Wow you had me at various singers.” 

“Says the woman who did an interview series with Tik Tok kids who all live in the same house,” Molly snips, half joking. 

You shiver, half from the memories of that objectively terrible experience and half from a sudden breeze. Needless to say a significant portion of the reason why you’d left LA, was because their entertainment section was suddenly drifting away from profiles on actors and towards compilations of one minute videos made by sun tanned twenty somethings that somehow made them millions a year. That and after you’d spent two weeks semi living with ten of said twenty somethings for a story that had gotten a lot of buzz you never wanted to see anyone connected to the app ever again. 

You give Molly your best ‘I’ll kill you’ smile, “You have to decide what you’re going to make fun of me for, is it the midwestern thing or is it the Tik Tok thing because one of those involves you admitting that I lived in Los Angeles for a year which means I’m perfectly capable of handling Times Square in all of it’s elmo public urinating glory.” 

Fletcher looks again at the mascot who is not in fact publicly urinating, but honestly if it did suddenly start none of you would be surprised. 

Molly looks at you for a second and says, “Both,” She looks at Fletcher. 

He looks at you then back and Molly and nods, “Yeah. Both.” 

You roll your eyes, “So can we get going now or-?” 

The ride to the location Molly had all but refused to tell you was filled with talks of the impending deadlines on Monday for pieces that were anywhere from fifty to seventy percent finished. (your’s is at the lower end of the spectrum because there is only so much one person can write about an art installation that you found less insightful and more literal in the sense that the sculpture was literally just large amounts of clay pressed together in something that shouldn’t even be considered a shape with no metaphor or meaning behind it). 

Soon enough you’re standing in what looks like mostly a residential neighborhood, with one precariously nice building in the middle of the block. You turn to Molly, “What the-?” 

“Don’t finish that, just be patient,“ She interrupts as a response. “You are very impatient, you know that?”

“I’m a journalist,” You say, “I need to know all of the facts, including what the-” You take a breath, “-heck we’re doing in the middle of a nice little neighborhood, I was expecting something more Gossip Girland Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” 

“You’re definition of journalist is a lot looser than mine,” Molly says.

“Have you ever watched Gossip Girl? And isn’t Brooklyn Nine-Nine set in a precinct?” Fletcher adds. 

“No, and Jake and Amy live in an apartment.” 

“Beyond the fact that you’re a TV writer who has never watched Gossip Girl-” Fletcher sighs, even though you know he hasn’t watched it either beyond random snippets for a hit piece he wrote on it a few months back (not received well by the way), “The top floor of that building-” He points to the precariously nice building, “isn’t apartments its a loft, the floor is huge and only one house.” 

You squint your eyes, “You’re kidding.”

“And the rest are offices?” 

“How did they get zoning for that?” 

They both shrug at the same time. 

“Guys I want to know that if the police bust up this party, speaking of loose terms, I’m going to say that you dragged me here against my will.” 

“I always knew you had good survival instincts.” 

Molly turns to you, “Look when you’re getting special press access to the inside of the met gala you will be saying thank you Molly for bringing me here to catapult my career.” 

“I have catapulted my own career thank you, the Tik Tok thing-” You shake your head, “Nevermind can we go in and stop loitering, then we’ll really get arrested.” 

Party is a loose term but you learn that's not necessarily a bad thing. It’s not a rager with strobe lights and pumping bass but there is music playing albeit classical. People mill around at tables talking to one another, both twenty somethings and thirty somethings, you recognize a few faces from the media mostly. Fletcher was right about the food, and Molly was right about the drinks. You talk to a few people just to introduce yourself, a couple of them have heard of you, if only because your sudden cross country move to newspapers that aren’t necessarily competitors but might have a bit of a rivalry was something that people talked about. You’d made a couple thirty under thirty lists (no not the Forbes one) while in LA, which meant nothing to you if you were being completely honest but apparently meant things to other people which is fine.

When you’re finally exhausted at putting on a smile and nodding like you’re actively engaged in conversation and not thinking about something completely you hang out by the bar, not even drinking, just watching the room and all of the people there. You never wanted to get a reputation for being the quiet girl in the corner who just watched and listened because those kinds of people are always seen as weird or doormats or both but if you’re being honest this is where you’re the most comfortable. Making small talk just to get some opportunity down the road has never quite been your style. 

You turn to go and find Molly when you suddenly come face to face with someone you recognise right away. 

In that moment you realize that Taylor Swift was in fact onto something when she said, “Didn’t you flash your green eyes at me?” As weird as it is, the first thing you think when you meet Harry Styles is how that song is definitely about him, because those green eyes are striking and they are staring right at you. 

“Hi,” He says, quick to the draw. 

You take a step back just because of how close you are and say, “Hello.” 

He looks at you like he’s thinking about something, and then holds out his hand, “Harry.” 

“y/n,” You shake his hand. You recover from your initial shock quickly, and plaster on that fake conversation smile again, ready for whatever it is he wants to say, if anything. You came here to ‘network’ and you’re not sure what kind of advantage talking to Harry Styles could possibly give you, but for some reason you want to talk to him. 

“What brings you here?” He asks you. 

“My co-workers,” You shrug, “I would much rather be at home watching Succession on HBO and listening to the Beatles on my record player, like true people of culture would.”

He looks at you for a second, as you try to keep a straight face. Then he laughs, “Seriously?”

“Fuck no,” You say, “That’s my impression of the girl who meets Harry Styles at a party and has to convince him that she is not like all the other girls, she is the one for him.” You smile, “Was that good? Or should I try again?” 

He thinks about it, “I think you should try again.” 

“Because you think it’s wrong or because you think I’m funny?”

“What do you think?”

“Well if you think I’m funny, then I’ve already won, I’ve tricked you into thinking that I’m not like all the other girls with reverse psychology .”

“Are you screwing with me?”

“Of course I’m screwing with you,” You take a sip of your drink. “If I were home right now I would be playing Lizzo on my record player, and drinking something with a medically unsafe level of caffeine.” You pause, “What brings you here?” 

“Honestly,” He looks out over the room, “I thought that this was going to be a much cooler party. Instead it’s just a bunch of reporters, and editors and media people.” 

“Who are inherent mood killers?” You ask. 

He narrows his eyes at you, “Am I allowed to say yes to that?” 

“You can do whatever you want,” You tease him, “You’re Harry Styles, who am I to tell you what to say?” 

“I feel like it was a trick question, which means that you are also a reporter.” 

You laugh again, “That was funny, I’m going to write that down for my story. ‘Harry is genuinely funny which he tries to use to make up for the lack of small talk abilities’.”

“You’re screwing with me again.” 

“Of course I am,” You say, “I work in the arts section of the Times, well not the actual art anymore but the movies and television.” 

“TV critic?” He says, “So you’re harsh.” 

“TV critics are just harsh for attention, I don’t need to be because no movie snob or well meaning director is going to go to the Times to see what we thought of any given movie. I write honestly, sometimes under the influence of caffeine and try to contain my excitement at narratively unnecessary plot twists.” You explain, “That and I get paid to watch TV, and usually private screenings of movies.” 

He leans against the bar a sign that he doesn’t plan on moving anytime soon. You’re not going to say that you’re so awestruck by a celebrity that you have no idea what to say, or that he’s intimidating you but your hand shakes just a little as you clutch your fingers around the glass because he’s objectively attractive. Objectively attractive in the way that if he were on a dating app you would swipe yes and then put a lot of pressure on yourself to be funny and relatable even though you know that you don’t need him. 

“What did you think of Dunkirk?” 

“Oh!” You forgot that he acted, “That was before my time. I was working at the LA Times doing the music section then I think.” You know what he’s going to say next, “And before you ask yes there is a piece still posted of me reviewing your debut album. I think I reached out to get an interview with you, but I was suspiciously declined.” He looks embarrassed, “I was like under five years out of college I would’ve declined me too. They only gave me the story because it was the time where people weren’t sure that ex boyband members could make objectively good albums that meant something.” 

He tilts his head to the side for a second, “And? Can they?”

“I’m in no place to make a generalization,” You say, “But I think you did. Admittedly that album was something, very intimate.” 

“I don’t know if I should be taking that as a compliment.”

“I don’t want to give you a compliment because some people have a hard time with them, and this will get very awkward very fast. No shame, personally I have no mechanism to take compliments on my writing.” 

He laughs, “I think I can take it.” 

“Hmm.. okay,” You take another step back, “Okay are you sure you're ready?” 

“Yes.” 

“I think the entire album was very good, very unexpectedly good or at least I didn’t expect it to be. It was very open in that way that songs are vulnerable but still leave enough mystery that your fans don’t think you're a shitty person and I really like meet me in the hallway,” You say quickly, “In fact I listened to it just yesterday when I was working.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and then fake sighs, “See I don’t think that counts because it was more of a backhanded compliment.” 

“What?”

“You said you didn’t expect it to be good, that’s not really a compliment then-”

“I was saying it pleasantly surprised me,” You say, throwing your hands in the air in mock annoyance. “You surprise me, Harry.” He doesn’t say anything, and for a minute neither do you, but you snap back to life just in time to say, “Is that compliment enough to embarrass you?” 

He shrugs, but you know he’s messing with you. “It’s something but I don’t know if it’s really doing it for me.” 

“You are impossible, just another out of touch celebrity, is nothing ever good enough for you people?” It’s by now that you realize that you inadvertently closed the gap between the two of you, and you’re standing very close. 

He seems to realize this at the same time as you, “I-”

“Are you going to ask me to have sex with you?” You deadpan. 

“What?” He looks offended for a second, “No.” 

“I had to ask,” You tell him, “It’s happened before.” 

“I was going to ask you for your number.”

“See usually when a guy asks me that they’re asking so-” 

“It’s not for that.” 

“Then what’s it for?” 

He looks at you with something in his eyes that you don’t know the meaning of, “In case you want to do an interview, so that they don’t reject you this time.” 

You know that’s not it, but you give it to him anyway because he’s Harry Styles (which yes is not a valid reason but this ‘party’ is very boring and this is the most interesting thing to happen to you in at least the past week). It takes you a minute to remember which one is your real number and which one is the fake number you give off if a guy is asking because he wants a booty call, but you eventually give it to him. Then you scurry off with a quick goodbye when you realize how late it is, and how you do have work to do. There’s a new episode of Big Little Lies out tomorrow and you don’t understand why but people are very into the show, and very into your episode recaps. 

You corner Molly away from some guy you think might have actually been able to get her press access to the Met Gala and remind her that she also has a deadline tomorrow. The two of you go off to look for Fletcher and find him very close to sealing the deal with an objectively pretty girl, but you politely remind him that he has work to do and is very busy. The girl looks sad but let’s him go without much whining. You would’ve understood if she tried to get him to stay with her, he’s a little bit shorter than Molly but to be fair Molly is above averagely tall, and is nice and fit and has brown curly hair which you know from personal experience is sometimes just kryptonite. (you’ve kissed Fletcher before, long story, and can also say he’s on your top list of good kissers as well right up there with a guy you hooked up with in LA only to realize later that he was Robert Pattinson). 

Somehow the three of you are only able to make it back to your apartment. So the night ends with Molly and Fletcher in the living room on the couch and in a sleeping bag respectively, and you are comfortably in your bed. Your phone sits on your nightstand, suspiciously silent. You’re not waiting for Harry Styles to call you, nope, definitely not. 

[skinks]

I had a REALLY intense beatles phase in my late teens and i had the hots for paul mccartney and one time i found this story where this woman said she met paul at a party in 65 and he took her home and they talked until the sun came up and then he got a call telling him to come to the studio and he started to say he had to leave and she was like "not before you fuck me" and he laughed and then he DID and he left her alone in his house after and she stole his underwear (1/2)

(which she kept for decades until her husband threw them into their muddy front yard one day in a fit of jealousy) and a teapot and it always made me absolutely FERAL with jealous horny rage and like?? just this incredulous feeling of How On Earth Did That Really Happen and anyway bill hader’s dumpster mattress one night stand story is my new version of that (2/2)

The fucking journey this just took me on, holy shit. Did she at least get to keep the teapot?

I love that you had an intense teenage horny phase for a Beatle, I had one for Bob Dylan and I remember watching one of his electric era tour documentaries and being HORRIBLY jealous of the 60s girls hanging around outside his hotel... anyway that’s besides the point

I UNDERSTAND!!!!! THE MATTRESS STORY HAUNTS ME.... Bhader knows what he’s doing, he can try to couch it in as much self-deprecating oh-I’m-just-an-awkward-nerd fronting as he likes but he KNOWS what he’s doing and that woman knew it too. You ever notice how it’s the most competent ones who don’t feel the need to loudly prove themselves by being anything other than humble?? What did he SAY in that club! “It was going well,” he says, what does that MEAN, BILL, what did he fuckjfdkjcnnfkcning do that convinced this woman to leave the club, go to her place, lift a bed onto a car, go to HIS place and move furniture when she was literally moving to a new city the next day all so sHE COULD FUCK HIMMMM HOW IS HIS GAME THAT GOOD I FEEL LIKE A CHARACTER IN AN EDGAR ALLEN POE STORY BEING SLOWLY DRIVEN MAD BY THIS UNANSWERED MYSTERY

Ok sorry, I’m back. This is making me want to read a fic where (before they get together) Eddie watches an old interview of Richie telling the mattress story and he’s a seething ball of jealousy too. Then Richie comes out, he and Eddie sort their shit and get together, and one day Eddie laughingly comments that he had no reason to be jealous after all since Richie was obviously making the story up.

Richie looks at him weirdly. “I didn’t make up—that story did actually happen, Eds, I only changed it so people thought I went home with a chick.”

They are lying in bed. Eddie’s eye starts twitching. “Pardon?”

“Yeah?” Richie stretches, draping his right arm over his own head to scratch his left ear. Eddie will not be distracted by his chest right now, what the fuck. Richie squints at the ceiling. “I think his name was... Marco, or something. At least, that’s the name he gave to quote unquote Chris.”

“Marco, okay. Huh.”

“I wanted to be Lance or something cool, but my friend said I inhabited Chris better, I dunno. I didn’t even tell him why I needed a fake name, he was just like, big into method.”

“Yeah, mhmm.” Eddie sits up, nodding. He can’t stop nodding. His head feels like a champagne cork fizzing at the top of his spine. “So you, you uh—you were such a fucking player in your plaid and your baggy jeans that, that, that were the only things you even owned back then, Rich—don’t try to deny, it I’ve seen the pictures—that you convinced some guy who was moving town the next fucking day—”

Richie’s eyebrows shoot upwards. It makes his eyes look rounder, more delighted. “Convinced? Eddie—”

Eddie can’t stop, twisting the sheets in his hands til his knuckles go white. “Yes, convinced, you convinced him to go pick up some dirty mattress right off the street with a complete stranger even though you always make such a big deal about how awkward and nervous and repressed you were, you still, you still—”

“I was probably on molly or something at the time, man.” Richie’s beaming up at him. He pokes Eddie in the arm. Eddie feels how tense the muscle is, and fights to relax. “I’m kidding, at worst it was just a little tipsy driving. A little Wacky Races. Just call me Dick Bastardly.” Richie grins at his own dumbass joke, poking Eddie some more. “And it wasn’t just the mattress by the way, it was the whole bed. That’s a key detail. Headboard and everything.”

“The headboard?!” Eddie tries not to yell, but it comes out louder than he means to anyway. More of a shriek, embarrassingly. He lurches around in place to glare at their own flat bar of wood behind them. He holds onto that thing! It supports him, even when Richie’s fucking him into the wall!

Betrayal is neverending today, apparently. Eddie turns his glare onto Richie, who is laughing. “Stop laughing!”

“Your face,” Richie gasps. He covers his own face, then changes tack and yanks Eddie down over him to cackle into his flaming-hot throat. “What’s the problem! You’re acting like this is the same fucking bed, oh my god, you think I haven’t at least changed my mattress since I lived like a—like a Beavis and Butthead parody in Westwood, fifteen years ago?”

Eddie squirms miserably. Not even Richie’s broad nakedness against his can salvage this, he’s well and truly destroyed their sweet afterglow with his stupid overreaction. Feels like being fifteen again, ruining clubhouse hangouts with his snappy sulking as soon as Richie mentioned some girl at school. “No! No, obviously fucking not, just. I dunno.”

He doesn’t really deserve the gentle tease in Richie’s voice. “What don’t you know?”

“I don’t know!”

And that’s the part he hates most.

“Okay, okay. I think I do. Jesus, you’re actually jealous,” Richie breathes. He bites his lip, the way he does when he’s so happy about something he’s making a real effort not to talk over it. He’s still a little sweaty and pink from their Friday night activities, bedraggled hair and no glasses. The expression always scrunches his left eye into a full squint, something Eddie finds so helplessly appealing he can’t imagine what it’s like to watch that interview and not feel jealous.

Eddie grunts, shrugs as best he can under Richie’s heavy hug. Fucking Marco.

Richie’s hand is firm on the back of his neck. There’s pressure from his thumb at one point of Eddie’s jaw, the soft part between ear and bone that has him gulping open for Richie’s low murmur, “Eddie baby, don’t be jealous.” Their mouths meet and Eddie sighs into the slick warmth of it, feeling grateful and abashed and idiotic all at once.

They separate with a little snick of spit. Richie lids his eyes open just a touch, looking drowsy with affection. Eddie lowers his forehead to Richie’s shoulder and speaks to his collarbone. “I just—I hate it when you act like people are just doing you a favor for, for liking your shit or fucking going home with you when clearly it was—you’re fucking hot, Rich, and, and sexy when you’re not trying to be, and you were hot back then too, but you still act like it was a miracle anyone wanted to even touch you when I—I always would’ve picked the stupid dirty bed up off the street too. For you. And I wouldn’t’ve moved town the day after. So.”

Richie doesn’t speak for a moment. There is a cloud above their shared, clean bed, implicit with shared memory of all the times they dirtied each other’s sheets with grass stains and grubby feet, chip crumbs and even tears, just once, just before Eddie really did move town and forgot all the things he cared about so much more than he ever cared about getting sick.

He would never leave again though, is his point. Richie always seems to know what he means before Eddie does. He tries to think it loud enough, brings his hand up blindly to Richie’s face and strokes back his hair, not because Richie is a mind reader, but because he knows what it means that Eddie has never wanted to touch someone else like this.

Eddie’s spine then, curving under Richie’s knuckles like brushing a shiver along a set of wind chimes. His hand lands on Eddie’s tailbone, an X marks the spot that still throbs with loosened heat and pleasure from his orgasm. Lying on your front is bad for your posture.

I’m not lying on my front, Eddie thinks, with a little of the vicious defiance he doles out to that cloying voice sometimes, the one that tries to ruin quiet moments with its fretting. I’m lying on Richie’s. He’s good for my posture. He’s gonna snap my spine back into place and this time I’ll let him touch me.

Richie presses their temples together, small-voiced. “I guess... I find most of the flattery shit hard to believe. I didn’t like myself or the stuff I was making, so I’d automatically assume they were lying, y’know? If I agree it implies I believe them, which makes me feel like some giant, arrogant dick—don’t say it.” He pats Eddie on the ass. “But, on the other hand, if I think I’m somehow important enough for people to lie to, that’s kind of an arrogant dick move too.”

Eddie pushes up to eyeball him. “Even with sex? That’s so fucking dumb.”

This second ass-pat is harder, more of a stinging smack. Richie’s guarded look coils into a grin again at Eddie’s bared-teeth hiss. “I never said it wasn’t.”

“Well, I mean, what do you think it meant that fucking Marco—” Richie snorts at the projectile venom burning acidic holes through Eddie’s voice, “—was clearly willing to catch fleas or goddamn tetanus just to fuck you? What about me? You think I’m pretending it’s good just to encourage your weird, unnecessary inferiority thing? ”

“No, you’re right,” Richie laughs. His snorts have bubbled into full-blown giggles now as he squints down at the mess between their stomachs. “That’s pretty hard evidence you’re providing there, Eds.”

Getting harder too, rubbed up against the soft crease of Richie’s hip. Eddie can feel the lingering red throb of heat on his ass, like closing his eyes and still catching the gold-coin flash of the sun branded on the inside of his eyelids. Richie digs his blunt nails into the stung tenderness of his skin and gently pulls Eddie’s asscheeks open. He feels Richie’s quickened breathing against his wet mouth, and wonders how to ask for another spank in a way that isn’t gonna make him want to enter witness protection afterwards.

“I can’t believe you were jealous, you’re the last guy in the world who needs to be jealous,” Richie moans. Eddie feels the vibration of it on his tongue, now sucking on the knot of Richie’s adam’s apple. “Wait, can you really get tetanus from abandoned street beds?”

“Ugh!” Eddie bites him there and pulls off slowly, sucking so the stubbled skin of Richie’s strong throat is released from his mouth’s suction with a wet pop. Richie’s hips flex against him. “I almost wish this was the same fucking bed just so I had something to throw out into the yard!”

“O-ooh, how telenovela of you, I like it.”

Oh Christ, Eddie has to put some kinda stop to this before Richie starts speaking Spanish. He needs to last. He needs to beat Marco. “I’ll throw you out with it,” he says, too breathy and honest for anywhere else but here. “Trashmouth. Sweetheart.”

Richie’s face is flushed, eyes dark and desperate. He grips at Eddie’s ribs so hard Eddie feels them bending. “Dumpster diver.”

Eddie rolls his hips down, plants his palms on either side of Richie, shoves them under the pillows. He braces his elbows hard into Richie’s shoulders and grinds their sweaty foreheads together, but whatever aggression there is within him is softened by his catapulting heartbeat, harmonising with his own laughter. With Richie’s, always.

“Nah, ‘fraid the only thing left to remember that half-night stand with Marco is, well.” Richie looks down between them again, eyes almost crossed. “It’s me. My dick, more specifically.”

Eddie can feel as much. Another wave of possessiveness froths through him, crackling in the pockets of his joints, feels like cartoon steam whistling out his ears. “It better not be half-standing because it remembers anything about fucking Marco,” he snarls.

Richie raises his hands in a down boy gesture. It shifts his arms and shoulders in the way that sometimes makes Eddie wish he were a door, just so Richie could ram him open, and so he pins Richie’s wrists to the bed instead.

“Please don’t throw my dick out into the yard, babe,” Richie says.

“Gonna give you something to remember this fucking bed by,” Eddie says, and slides down Richie’s body to do just that.

[jeremys-blogs]

The Last Unicorn: Unhappy Fantasy

Everybody loves a happy ending. We all love the idea that, no matter what bad things come about, everything will turn out all right when it's all over. That good will triumph over evil, true love will win out and that everything that could go right will go right. But as you get older, you come to realise that this won't always be the case. Bad things will happen, and they will happen to good people at that. But you don't always need to be an adult to come to realise that, as children too can grasp this concept. Media aimed at them will usually try to go for the more upbeat of tones and stories, but every once in a while you'll get a story that just won't want to sugarcoat things. A story that will look at its young target audience and let them know that we won't always get wat we want. For me, the first film to truly do this, to make me realise that not every ending would be a happy one, was the 1982 Rankin/Bass film, The Last Unicorn, an adaptation of the book by the same name by Peter S. Beagle. This movie was unlike anything else I'd seen up to that point, and as I'll say here, it's also unlike most of what I saw afterwards too.

Our story, which I first encountered via an old VHS lent to me by a family friend way back in the early 90s, stars a nameless unicorn who, after an encounter with some humans, begins to feel that she might be the only one of her kind left in all the world. Worried, she sets out from her forest in search of others like her, and along the way she comes across a number of dangers, including witches and bandits, all while picking up a couple of human allies, Schmendrick the magician and Molly Grue. Together they journey to the castle of King Haggard, the man responsible for taking unicorns from the world through the power of his beast, the red bull. But this endeavour takes its toll on the unicorn, as magic forces her into the form of a human girl before her arrival into the castle, which eventually leads to her falling in love with the King's son, Lir. After much time searching, the group once more face off against the red bull, and after resuming her unicorn form, our heroine fights it off, releasing all other unicorns from their imprisonment in the sea. The evil King is vanquished, unicorns have returned, and the party go their separate ways, with their journey now complete.

Now, to this day, I can't recall another animated film meant for children that has this kind of feel to it as I watch it, and bear in mind that I've known it for the better part of thirty years now. It's a kind of melancholy that just sits there in every moment. This is a fantasy world, yes, but it's also a fantasy world where a lot of the wonder and majesty that you might find has come and gone. A world where all the truly great things have faded. The unicorn we see is truly the last of her kind in the world, to the point where even two random human can recognise it. The fantastical creatures locked up in the cages of the witch? Unreal illusions hoaxed by her to fool gullible carnival-goers. The land King Haggard rules over is barren and dead, a far cry from the lush place it supposedly used to be before his rule. Even characters like Molly are those who feel like their best days are behind them, to the point where she feels initially quite bitter to see the unicorn at this point of her life, rather than as the young maiden she used to be. This whole world just feel worn down, past its prime, which was really quite something for someone as young as I was when I first saw it.

And it's not just the overall world that has this feel to it. Characters both ordinary and fantastic just struggle with feeling happy a lot of the time, or even optimistic. Schemndrick is constantly frustrated over his lack of magical talent, Molly, as I said, has grown up disillusioned with the supposedly romantic life of an outlaw's wife, and as for the Unicorn herself, she undergoes more than a few bad times. The transformation into a human girl utterly horrifies her, and it's something which puts her in a truly unenviable situation during the final act. A choice between her original life and her newfound love for Lir is put before her, and in the end it's not even her that makes the choice. She returns to being a unicorn and, as a result, can no longer be with the Prince she's come to care for. When the movie is on its last moments, she laments what has happened, that she regrets returning back to her original form as she will no longer experience love, which is something unicorns apparently can't feel naturally. She's given a happiness and it's taken away from her, and while she's grateful that her kind are back in the world again, this is a sting that's going to stay with her all the same.

And you know, there's one line in this movie that perfectly sums up exactly why it feels the way that it does. It happens towards the end, and Molly wonders if their journey is going to have a happy ending. Schmendrick responds by saying "there ARE no happy endings, because nothing ever ends". This, I think, is a perfect example of just what kind of mindset this story has. It's not trying to be some classic fairy tale of good triumphing over evil with its heroes riding off into the sunset. Good may score a victory over a terrible person and his beast, and yes a force for good is returned to the world, but it comes at a loss. When Schmendrick says this, you feel as though this really isn't the end, that this is just one moment of the much wider story. Good wins today, but tomorrow there might be something else, something where the other side is victorious. When Lir rides off, he'll likely go and do other things, have other adventures of which this was only one, so too will Molly and Schmendrick. It's fascinating to me that one line, only a few seconds long, can conjure up all these worries about what might happen after the curtain falls on our cast, but there it is.

Now I realise that this must make the movie sound incredibly pessimistic, and yeah, it's hard not to come away with that feeling when you finish watching it. This isn't a "happily ever after" kind of story, despite the fact that the goal of the quest was fulfilled. The dour tone of the story is so prevalent that, even as you see a whole herd of unicorn riding free, there's this feeling that something was lost along the way to making it happen. But, despite the story's clear stance of criticising or undermining certain classic ideas of fairy tales and other fantasy tropes, there's nevertheless a spark of hopefulness in here. Despite the hardships, the unicorn triumphs, restoring her kind to the world, even if it cost her something personal. Schmendrick, having gone through his own difficulties, emerges at the end as a fully-fledged wizard. Molly gets to presumably spend her remaining days with someone who treats her well, in stark contrast to the life she had prior to meeting the unicorn. Success arrives to all our main characters, so the film clearly thinks that good things can happen to good people in spite of the glass-half-empty tone it appeared to have, even if those characters had to be put through the wringer to get there.

The Last Unicorn, it must be said, is not a movie to watch if what you're looking for is an unambiguous good time. The mood is sombre, the designs are not exactly appealing with the obvious exception of the title character, and if you're like me you'll likely find yourself finishing this movie with a big scream at the screen saying something like "WHY CAN'T THE UNIVERSE LET THIS UNICORN BE HAPPY FOR FIVE MINUTES?!?!?!" But let it never be said that the film is ineffective at making you feel exactly what it wants you to feel. It set out to create a bittersweet children's fantasy story, and by God it made one. Maybe it was because I first saw it at a young and impressionable age, but subsequent viewings through my life nevertheless made me feel exactly as I did that first time, that I'd just watched something unique and memorable. It's hard to say whether this film deserves to be on any lists of the greatest animated movies of all time, but there's no denying that it did things kids' movies just don't normally try to do, and certainly not back then. It's a sad movie a lot of the time, but if the likes of Inside Out taught us anything, it's that it's okay to be sad every once in a while 😉

[mfortescue]

❝ EVIL - it blooms. it eats. it grins. ❞ MAIA MITCHELL? No, that’s actually MARIA FORTESCUE. Only TWENTY FIVE years old, this HUFFLEPUFF alumni works as a STUDY OF ANCIENT RUNES PROFESSOR and is sided with THE DOUBLE AGENTS (THE DEATH EATERS). SHE identifies as CIS-WOMAN and is a PURE-BLOOD who is known to be RUTHLESS, MISGUIDED, and EASILY DISTRACTED but also PRAGMATIC, KIND, and POSITIVE. { LIZ, 22, GMT+2, SHE/HER }

aesthetics: there’s something soft in me ( ... we killed it and it’s rotting ), the smell of freshly baked cookies, good intentions, constant heartbreak, that one teacher that brings hot chocolate and blankets for the entire class only because she thought it was cold this morning, oversized earrings, watching the same muggle movie over and over again, never being able to decline a dare and doing what you believe is right, even if you may be proven wrong later.

BACK TO BASICS.

name: maria angelina fortescue. occupation: professor at hogwarts. teaches ancient runes. nicknames: mary.

+ pragmatic, kind, resourceful, positive and compassionate. - misguided, easily distracted, naive, ruthless and high strung.

age: 25. date of birth: august 28. zodiac: virgo. hometown: glasgow, scotland. current location: spends most of the year at hogwarts, but also has a small summer house on the norweigan coast. gender: cis female. pronouns: she/her. orientation: bisexual. allegiance: to end the war ---- and she believes that the death eaters are currently the only ones capable of doing that. she was a loyal order member from the start ----- but then the people around her started dying and maria’s priorities changed. all she wants is for the war to end, so that her students can return to being the kids they were meant to be and so that her friends may live. ending the war may not bring her father back, but it’s all she can do to honor his memory.

spoken languages: english, spanish and french. can also read and write latin. moral alignment: lawful good/lawful neutral.

element: earth. house: hufflepuff.

pinterest board.

BACKGROUND/FAMILY/SCHOOL YEARS.

maria is the daughter of florean fortescue and his wife, seline. her childhood was spent in his ice cream shop, in diagon alley - where she would run around the place, always finding another customer to charm. she was the kind of child to smile at everything life threw her way ---- almost as if that sugary sweetness she was raised on became part of her very being, her blood. 

torture tw >>>>

now ---- maria was never exposed to the war. nor did her father like talking about it very much, either. he had scars, for sure. the death eaters at the time had tortured him for information about the deathly hallows, and the elder wand. the wand to end all wars. florean had only been released after he had revealed what he knew, and then, it would take a long time before he would return to his former self. maria was born five years later, and that day ----- florean fortescue swore to himself that he would never talk about what had once been, ever again. the war was over. voldemort was dead. maria would grow up only knowing kindness and hope and never ending compassion and generosity.

end of tw <<<<

so her upbringing was sheltered. she was always doted upon and cared for. they were living in a post-war world, and her parents felt that theresa was a beacon of light and hope and sainthood ---- but most importantly, they believed that her world would be better. SHE would be better. they hoped that her name alone would speak it into existence.

her father was somewhat of an amateur historian, he spent copious amount of time gathering sources, information and literature on everything from the medieval witch burnings to the deathly hallows. if he had been less fueled by his need to bring joy into people’s lives, he would have become a professor, or a historian, or a researcher. but florean fortescue was not an ambitious man by any means, and would rather earn his keep by making people smile.

maria was raised on ice cream and stories, mostly. her mother was an author, who specialized in writing stories for witches ( think the kind of stuff molly weasley would be interested in reading ). but she was also a master storyteller, and maria was her favorite audience.

she shows up at hogwarts, and gets sorted into hufflepuff without the hat barely having to touch her head. and with them ---- she thrives. then again, maria has never not thrived. ever since her childhood, she has been that person that everything seems to run off, like water. maria is the girl that’s always smiling, never raises her voice, remains sweet like sugar and honey and everything nice.

though maria was overall very academically successful, she excelled especially in a history of magic and in the study of ancient runes.

could usually be found by the lake, in the library or in the hufflepuff dormitory.

known for sneaking into the kitchens and demanding to let the house elves let her cook something up ---- just something small, won’t take long, she promises.

AFTER HOGWARTS.

murder tw, parental death cw >>>>

she’s 23 when her father is brutally murdered in cold blood. she’s the one to find him. their ice cream parlour has been brutalized ---- but nothing has been taken. she’ll find out later that he was the casualty of a fight between death eaters and remnants of a fallen order. she’ll never find out who fired the curse that killed him. she’ll always blame herself for not having had been there, instead being busy with her books and her career.

end of tw <<<<

without her father, the ice cream shop doesn’t seem worth rebuilding, so she lets it fall into history. instead, she focuses on her job, and decides to pick up a position at hogwarts, as a professor. she has always been great with kids, and teaching comes naturally for her ----- it’s like second nature. so it makes sense, at the time.

she’s a baby professor!!!! this is her second year of teaching!!!!! she’s doing her best !!!!!

little does she know that a war is at the horizon, and it’s only gonna get worse.

murder tw, parental death tw, depression tw >>>>

ANYWAYS before i go on forever about this, maria has no experience of war. so when it comes knocking, she doesn’t know what the fuck to do. she doesn’t have her father to look to, and her mother has closed herself off since his death. maria only has herself, and all of her instincts are screaming at her to get the fuck out.

end of tw

but she can’t do that, can she? she has students, little children, to take care of. so maria puts on her bravest face, and tries to think like her father ---- her idol, her role model. so she joins the newly reformed order.

parental death cw, death cw >>>>

but months pass ----- not much changes. the war rages on. and she still hasn’t found any leads on who was there when her father died. she becomes distraught ---- confused. slowly, her number of friends start to dwindle. people die around her. she has to attend several funerals for her own students, and it kills her. little by little. it takes something from her, it steals tiny pieces of her soul. the order doesn’t seem that appealing anymore, does it? how the fuck are they gonna win this war? she has killed people in its name, and for what? resentment starts to grow, and it slowly turns into something darker, deeper, more vile.

end of tw >>>>

so she seeks them out ---- the death eaters. she starts to think that they’re the only way to end this, the only way to make all this bloodshed stop. but she’s inexperienced, a little naive. she only wants to help, really. who cares who wins, as long as the war ends? maybe if the other side wins, it’ll stick this time. third time’s the charm, and all that. maria only wants it to stop.

before she knows it, she’s doing unspeakable things in the name of something so unholy that she can barely speak the words. self doubt plagues her ---- will this all be worth it in the end? she’s fairly certain that she’s on the wrong side of history now, but she’s so loyal to her friends, to her students ---- she can’t stand by and watch them die. 

currently, maria is still in the order. but she keeps distancing herself, making herself less available, pretending that she’s always busy with work. it pains her to betray people --- even though she doesn’t technically think that’s what she’s doing. she’s just hurrying the process along, right? it will all sort itself out, in the end.

torture tw >>>>

found her father’s notebooks on the deathly hallows and is currently pouring all of her energy into researching his work and all those things that he never bothered to tell her ( and yes, she feels betrayed by that, too. ) has also discovered her father’s journals, and all the information he withheld from her about the second wizarding war. now she’s kinda pissed at both the death eaters and the order, because 1) the death eaters kidnapped and tortured her dad. 2) the order did nothing to stop it, or save him, AND then basically covered up what happened once he was released. 

end of tw <<<<<

PERSONALITY.

maria’s heart is in the right place, most of the time. she thinks too much of the bigger picture, and is desperate To Do Good. 

a little too trusting? has a hard time seeing people’s true colors.

cares too much probably. really invested in her teaching and her students.

can be a really strict teacher!!!! will roast u if late. is always very punctual herself and expects the same in return.

doesn’t believe in this blood purity nonsense, but also doesn’t think that will actually stick once the war is over. she genuinely thinks that everything will go back to normal, if everyone would just stop fucking fighting !!!!!!!!

like i said, very misguided. 

genuinely believes this will all work out if she just !!!!! can make !!!! the fighting !!!!! stop !!!!!

one gal against the world, ya feel !!!!!

always smiling !!!! that girl who will smile at u as u walk past just because she can and she wants to make u happy !!!!

plays with her hair a lot, it’s a problem

very passionate abou t classic art and history and ancient runes!!!! will fight u about it, get ready for a 150 page essay about why u are wrong

makes a lot of questionable decisions on a whim? problematic behavior right there

also cannot physically say no to a dare. miss maria will. do it... just watch

very, very afraid!!!!! right now, maria is lowkey terrified of both the order and the death eaters. she has seen some shit and doesn’t know who the fuck to trust. hot take: they’re all bad 

would die for her students!!! 

has a cat called stereo and an owl called clemence.

tries to give her students a sense of normalcy, but cannot afford to give herself the same courtesy. maria had a normal childhood - she wants the same for her students. if that means that she has to do What It Takes to try to make the war end? well, that’s what she’s gonna do.

with that said --- is the type of girl to find a solution to every problem! even if it means going against ur very nature bc u think thIS is THE only wAY to hAVE things gO bacK to normal !!!!! i never said her logic was flawless !!!!! she’s a scared girl trying to do what is right !!!! even if it’s so wrong ! ha

[johnnymundano]

Fear in the Night (1972) (AKA Dynasty of Fear and Honeymoon of Fear)

Directed by Jimmy Sangster

Screenplay by Jimmy Sangster and Michael Syson

Music by John McCabe

Country: United Kingdom

Running time: 94 minutes

CAST

Judy Geeson as Peggy Heller

Ralph Bates as Robert Heller

Joan Collins as Molly Carmichael

Peter Cushing as Michael Carmichael

James Cossins as The Doctor

Gillian Lind as Mrs. Beamish

John Bown as 1st Policeman

Brian Grellis as 2nd Policeman

(I watched Fear in The Night on a StudioCanal blu-ray. The picture was perfectly fine, but not “Holy Mother of Pearl!” amazing. But I doubt the movie has ever looked better)

Fear in The Night is a neat enough Hammer thriller (as opposed to a neat enough Hammer horror) from their 1970s Going Downhill period, as the studio tried to accommodate the tastes of a rapidly changing society while not altering very much about their product, and continuing to spend less and less with every movie. Surprisingly often ‘70s Hammer’s answer to this thorny art versus commerce conundrum would be to just stick some tits in. Thankfully Hammer doesn’t do that here, instead they opt for a twisted thriller riffing on the French suspense classic Diabolique (1955), with a subtle hint of Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca. But, you know, with Joan Collins and, the eternally camptastic Joan Collins aside, imbued with all the everyday glamour of the 1970s; which is to say all the glamour of the aftermath of a chip pan fire.

This penny pinching presentation of the ‘70s milieu turns out to be Fear in the Night’s secret weapon in its arsenal of entertainment. Movies like this probably looked cheap on release (fair enough, because they were cheap movies) but several decades on the financial inability to cinematically accentuate mundane reality provides a wonderful glimpse of a time mostly past. (Admittedly there remain odd pockets of the 1970s in the UK to this day, but that’s another story.) While I love watching these things for all the usual reasons, I also enjoy the no frills historical accuracy of them. (See also: Amicus and Trigon movies.) An accidental bonus of budgetary miserliness, perhaps, but a bonus nonetheless.  Early on before Fear in the Night settles into its cramped arena of psychological combat there’s a particularly great bit at a motorway service station, where you can see that they once sold 12” LPs in spinner racks; on your way to see Aunty Maud, why not pick up the new Peters and Lee platter? Weird stuff, but apparently true. This is only rivalled by the man in the background when Judy and Ralph are in the car park; this unknown guy comes out of the Gents and is captured forever on film checking his fly. Cinéma doesn’t get much more vérité than a guy reflexively checking his cock’s not hanging out.

But why are Ralph Bates and Judy Geeson in a car park at a Granada motorway service station? (I just checked and there are still Granada motorway service stations; I did not know that.) It’s because Ralph and Judy are playing newlywed couple Robert and Peggy, on their way to the boys’ boarding school Robert teaches at. Their fragrant wedded bliss hit a recent road bump when Peggy was possibly attacked by a home invader with a prosthetic arm. Or possibly not; Peggy doesn’t seem the full shilling right from the start. Whatever did or didn’t happen has left Peggy in a somewhat sensitive state which imminent plot developments will do nothing to soothe and everything to aggravate. The pair move into a small house near the main school building and Peggy meets the headmaster, the confusingly named Michael Carmichael (Peter Cushing), and his wife Molly (Joan Collins). All you need to know about Molly is that she is played by 1970s Joan Collins; ergo she is a nasty piece of work under all that make-up. Michael Carmichael is a bit harder to get a grip on, partly because he is played by Peter Cushing who always finds nuances in his characters his scripts rarely deserve. He’s the best thing in Fear in the Night, but then he’s the best thing in most things that have “Peter Cushing” in the cast list. Yes, including Star Wars (1977). Actually, especially Star Wars (1977). Peter Cushing isn’t in Fear in the Night much, but he’s in it enough for him to create a character who can twitch from affable gent to spaced out creep in the blink of an eye and still leave you undecided as to whether or not to trust him. It’s called acting, darling.

Besides the ever potent screen presence of Peter Cushing, everyone else in the intentionally claustrophobically tiny cast is good value too. Joan Collins is Joan Collins, which is why they cast her, I guess. Ralph Bates has fun being too good to be true, before revealing he is in fact too good to be true. (Not really a spoiler unless you’ve never seen a movie; see further down the page.) Mostly though we chez Mundano were distracted by his appearance. Throughout Fear in the Night Ralph Bates is a kind of variable orange colour with some dusky eye shadows, courtesy of make-up according to my Life Partner; I thought he was just olive skinned and maybe had a bit of Mediterranean in the branches of his family tree. And I may have the edge since Wikipedia tells me Ralph was of French parentage and was (get this) the great-great grandson of Louis Pasteur. There’s a fun Hammer Fact for you; no charge. The core of Fear in the Night, however, is Judy Geeson, who is unrelated to Louis Pasteur as far as I know, but, luckily for audiences everywhere, successfully portrays a woman slowly coming so unstuck she can’t even trust her own senses. Hysteria simmers under the surface of each of her scenes, at least in those scenes where her hysteria isn’t stealing the scene wholesale.

Oh yes, female hysteria is front and centre in this one. Fear in the Night has a typically balanced 1970s approach to the ladies; one’s a brassy shrew and the other is a hysterical girl-child. In case anyone wanted reassurance about how far we’ve come since 1972 gender-wise, Fear in the Night also has a lot of people telling Peggy and Molly how pretty they are, like they are delicate little dolls, and there’s not a few “Oh, those silly ladies and their silly emotions!” reactions to Peggy’s increasingly frenzied appeals for help against her apparently phantom assailant. The only reason no one seeks to blame it all on her “time of the month”, I suspect, is that the ‘70s was still struggling to come to terms with female biological functions. Part of Peggy’s problem is getting men to take her seriously; which is fair enough, as part of any woman’s problems in the 1970s was getting men to take her seriously. In the 2010s men take women seriously; but they hate them for it. But shhhh, it’s a secret.

There are a lot of secrets at play in Fear in the Night, some obvious and some surprising but can Peggy survive their unveiling? You will, naturally, have already twigged what’s going on as soon as Joan Collins turns up shotgunning rabbits and patronising Peggy to within an inch of her life. But, and this is the clever bit, Fear in the Night knows you know this. The initial reveal is so defiantly perfunctory it acts as a kind of slap in the face to your complacency, and then Fear in the Night kicks you in the kidneys with the stuff you weren’t expecting. Basically, don’t organise that ticker tape parade to celebrate your own cleverness until Fear in the Night’s credits roll. Despite Jimmy Sangster’s smart plotting relying heavily on a prosthetic arm, Fear in the Night still has room for a couple of enjoyably nifty tricks up its sleeve. If all else fails; it’s got peter Cushing in. And you can’t argue with a bit of The Cush.  And that’s another Hammer Fact; no charge.

[rocknrollbodhisattva]

The Paranormal and the Sitcom: A So Weird & Girl Meets World Crossover Essay

Inspired by @fi-phillips  | @thats-so-weird  | @boymeetsworldconfessions  | @rilaya | @rileymatthews-xo

Introduction

From 1999 to 2001, Zoog Disney aired a paranormal show named So Weird, the Disney version of the X-Files. Micheal Jacobs revived Boy Meets World with a continuation called Girl Meets World. On the surface So Weird and Girl Meets World have nothing in common. The former show filmed in Canada, the latter was filmed in California. Cooksney and Jacobs couldn't be more different, Jacobs is known for comedic sitcoms like My Two Dads, John Astole and producer Jon Cooksney, focused on speculative fiction. Astole worked on Stargate, and the 1980s Twilight Zone revivals. Disney Channel hosting their television shows is their only commonalities so far. What made these programs successful was pushing Disney's Astole limits on what considered acceptable. As a result, So Weird was the darkest show Disney Channel aired where Girl Meets World was one of the smarter television shows of modern Disney Channel. Audiences don't think of Disney tackling death acceptance, religion, or feminism

Fiona "Fi" Philips (Cara DeLizia) along with her older brother Jack, join their mother Molly Phillips (Makenzie (Phillips) on her comeback tour. Having a Rockstar mom isn't easy, especially when evil spirits begin stalking Fiona. When Annie (Alexz Johnson) arrives a paranormal panther follows suit. Riley Matthews (Rowen Blanchard) along with her best friend Maya Hart (Sabrina Carpenter) continue the lessons her father learned almost Boy Meets World. At six years old I loved stories about hauntings and dark creatures, so, So Weird naturally appealed to me. Nostalgia over Boy Meets World influenced my decision to watch its sequel and the quality of it surprised me. This cross-over essay's purpose is dissecting these shows popularity and their similarities rather than their differences.

Surface Similarities & Differences

At the surface level SW and GMW's similarities are minor., Fi Phillips and Riley Matthews are our brunette primary protagonists; Annie Thelon and Maya Hart are our blonde secondary protagonists. Fandoms hated Annie and Riley because they interfered with the fandoms' favorites then subsequently blamed for the lackluster third seasons. Celebrities Carpenter and Johnzon used their shows as advertisement for their music careers. Actually Disney gave Carpenter a record deal before casting her as Maya. Carpenter is talented but still sounds like a Disney pop star, however, Johnson has more experience. SW had better music because there was a larger variety of genres like Rock, Pop, Blues, and Celtic music. SW alluded to Celtic and Greek mythology like changelings and sirens. GMW alluded to BMW and nothing else like Cory and Shawn's jellybean scene. Both shows had actors who appeared in crime shows including Carpenter and Eric von Detten.*1

What else SW and GMW had in common was that they had realistic friendships and family dynamics. Friendships weren't used as problem-solving devices but to deepen the characters. Jack (Patrick Lewis) and Clu (Eric von Detten) hung out because they wanted to not because the plot required them to. Parents were written as people. Molly struggled with widowhood and had goals outside of being a mother. Irene felt inferior to her younger sister and Ned Bell was a biker before he married Irene. In addition, Cory taught History yet offered fatherly advice to his daughter and her friends. Single mother, Katy, struggled with her part-time job and caring for Maya. As siblings, Jack/Fi and Riley/Auggie neither fought constantly nor always got along. 'Singularity' Jack and Fi do nothing but argue but in 'Medium' Jack uses "colourful language" when a psychic angers Fi. In GMW, Riley and Auggie argued in 'Forgiveness' then have a touching moment in 'Christmas Maya.' When writing only children Jacobs and Astole never relied on only child stereotypes instead showing the complexity of being one. Not to mention, as an only child myself, I loved this. Maya and Annie weren't spoiled were confused over siblings concepts, like sharing. Trapped in endless detention, Annie's confused by Jack standoffishness finding out that he falsely believes that Annie's replacing his sister. After assuring him that was never her intention, she and Jack become friends. Likewise, Maya confuses Rucas' (Riley/ Lucas) relationship with that of a brother-sister one because she doesn't understand how siblings act. Siblings are loving and friendly but also bicker like Lucaya (Maya/Lucas). Eventually, they develop sibling dynamics with other characters, Annie/Jack and Maya/Lucas.

Neither show's focus was on romance. SW focused on family while GMW focused on friendship and love interests didn't appear in more than one episode. Jack's girlfriend, Gabe, appeared in 'Angel.' Ryan was Fi's first kiss in 'Second Generation' and GMW had two date episodes. 'Brother' was about Cory and Topanga's date night; 'First Date' was about Lucas and Riley first kiss. If romance wasn't plot important then why did GMW develop a shipping war while SW was immune to such disputes? In comparison to GMW, SW had limited couple options meaning there weren't many options before couples became slash or incestuous Those options are: Annie and Fi with either Clu or Carrey. GMW avoids this pitfall with a diverse amount of characters but started shipping wars by introducing the leads and love interest simultaneously. Fanon favourites were Jack/Annie, Carrey/Molly, Lucas/Maya despite the intended couples are Cory/Topanga, Riley/Lucas, and Fi/Clu.

Why did Anti-Annie fans hate her less than Anti-Riley fans? Again, the fandom hated Riley more because of differences in character casting. If a Jerkass character is among the main cast the fandom automatically absolves them, giving their retribution to the kinder characters. Maya's the "broken bird" so fans will prefer her and discount Riley giving fans reason to pair Maya in a love-hate romance. For extra information on this, TvTropes offers an analysis using Nickelodeon television as examples. SW main characters aren't jerkasses toward their friends meaning Annie gets less hate and Friend-Lovers are on equal levels with Love-Hate ones.

Seekers: Fiona & Riley

Seekers of the 12 Archetypes are constantly searching for expanded knowledge of the world at large or themselves. Riley and Fi want to understand other people's perspectives in a worldly sense (Riley) and supernaturally (Fi). However both are open-minded toward unproven phenomenon as opposed to our blond protagonists who rather "go with the flow." Also as the primary protagonists they possess the most contradictions of their worlds. Fi's an amateur parapsychologist but wants a normal life to protect her family. ('Lightening Rod') Fi is a computer geek struggling academically but loves learning new subjects ('Tulpa', 'Escape', 'Vampire'). In comparison, Riley succeeds with her schoolwork but is naïve to the world around her. ('Pluto') She insecure often becoming victim to peer pressure but craves uniqueness away from her peers ('Popular', 'Jexica') Riley and Annie love feminine hobbies – makeup and shopping – but love masculine pursuits too. Both of them love the outdoors, athletics, but are terrible at sports. ('Ski Lodge' in GMW and 'Sacrifice' in SW) Riley can't make the cheerleading team but loves basketball; Fi fails at baseball but tries appreciates the sport. ('Singularity', 'Rah Rah') Contradictions make them rounded characters but causes internal conflict when they attempt to form a stable Ego.

Upon waking up in the middle of the night, Riley eavesdrops on her parents where she doubts if she's good enough compared to her parents. After all Topanga is a successful lawyer, Cory is a successful teacher, and have a perfect fairytale love. ('Cory & Topanga') Unable to connect with her father, Rick, Fi seeks resemblances between herself and him. Just like Riley's atelphobia, Fi feels disconnected from her family because of her paranormal interests. An example is 'Strange Geometry' where Fi feels betrayed that her mother kept Rick obsession a secret. Since Lucas doesn't differentiate between Riley and Maya during the love triangle, Riley further doubts her worth as a girlfriend. In the pilot and a deleted 'Upstate' scene, Riley molds herself into Maya so she'll have an identity. Constant identity searching is another aspect of the Seeker archetype.

Caretaking drives our protagonists to seek out the world's answers. Fi wants closure with her father yet her investigations aren't just for her benefit, but for the benefits of her loved ones. Molly's friends Rebecca left when she was Fi's age, thus Fi confronts Rebecca's "daughter" so Molly will have some closure of her own. Reluctantly, Fi leads the two of them to Rebecca's house where history repeated itself again; Rebecca's family disappeared again leaving Molly more betrayed and confused. 'In Forgiveness' Riley back talks to Kermit wanting answers as to why he left her best friend when she was younger. Town members become annoyed by Fi when she forces them to remember the alien invasion the day before. ('Memory') Fi helps a coma girl's mother and grandmother with technology to revive the girl from her coma even though these people are strangers to her. ('Lost') Riley invades her friends' boundaries so Maya will have hope ('Master Plan'), tries jumping into a bull pen to save Lucas ('Texas'), and keeps her friends in a stairwell so they'll reflect on their surroundings ('High School'). Fi challenges Bricriu to hangman so he'll stop possessing her brother. ('Will-o-Wisp') Riley gives up her relationship with Shawn, her godfather, so Maya will have a father. She forgets her affections for Lucas so Maya will have a chance at love. ('Texas', 'New Years') Occasionally their actions cause annoyance among their friends but its for the greater good. Sacrificing one's own desires is the key component in the Caretaker's goal.

Creators: Annie & Maya

Creators turn illusion into reality and similar to Seekers, Creators are invested self-identity and possibilities. When we're introduced to Annie and Maya both are immediately drawn to creative fields. By the ending of 'Lightening Rod', Annie confides in Fi that she's always had an eerie connection to music and find inspiration from something as insignificant as a stick. Furthermore, Mr and Mrs Thelon inform Molly that Annie has the ability to master most any instrument. 'In the Darkness', the theme song, shows Annie playing as well as popular instruments like the guitar. Maya gained that same artistic guidance from the stars or a paint war. ('Meets Boy', 'Upstate', 'Maya's Mother'). Partly due to Carpenter portrays her, Maya masters singing and guitar quite easily. ('1961', 'Creativity') An added bonus to Annie's is that they act as retrocognition from her past.

Both blondes quickly give up old lifestyles for chances at an art or singing career. For example, Annie's ecstatic she'll join Molly's band on tour, granted her parents reason this is so Annie will have a normal and balanced life. ('Lightening Rod') Impulsive, Future Maya leaps at the opportunity when she receives a SoHo gallery internship. ('Bay Window') Creators share the fear of not having an identity. When a recording agent steals Annie's voice and likewise when the art teacher grades Maya's painting as incomplete, the girls doubt their self-worth. In 'Carnival' Annie's reflections mock her abilities when she rescues her friends from an evil ringmaster. Season one Maya wonders if Riley was right and Maya's troubled past is responsible for her artistic ability. What's more is that the Creator archetype gives the character a dangerous duality; either they're practical with their art or they drown themselves in their disillusion. Which is why the Orphan archetype lurks beneath the Creator.

The Thelons and Hart families are alive but their actions produce an orphan effect on their daughters. Traveling across the globe before the So Weird eventsprohibitedestablishing permanent roots somewhere. Kermit's physical abandonment compounded with Katy's emotional abandonment ensured that Maya wouldn't have a support system. Although being an only child isn't problematic, not having someone to depend on made connecting with others difficult. Neither would form a real connection until they made surrogate families out of the Phillips and Matthews families. Its not surprising their friends would find them selfish at times.

Death Acceptance

The major difference between Cooksney and Jacobs is Cooskney never intended lessons for So Weird whereas Jacobs' moralizing hindered character development on Girl Meets World. Jacobs's lesson was the vague statement, "People Change People" I'd argue his actual moral is not taking people for instead. Cooksney's moral, if you could consider it one, was sacrifice. Fi gets lost camping and sacrifices immediate help to save Big Foot. ('Sacrifice') Barring those morals, the writers over-arcing themes of both were acceptance. SW's primary theme was death acceptance for the Phillips and Matthews family with the minor theme of childhood acceptance Annie) and Maya. All stories lead back to sex and death, Disney's not going to discuss sexuality, but death resounds through every film since Disney's inception. Also no SW or GMW character was exempt from death confrontation. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross's Five Stages of Grief: Anger, Sadness, Denial, Bargaining, and Acceptance aren't linear and one may never gain acceptance. All the characters are stuck in one of the stages and only Fi gains acceptance.

Earnest Becker's seven reasons why people fear death are as followed:

1. Fear of pain

2. Fear of not knowing what becomes of our bodies

3. How our dependents will manage after our death

4. How our loved ones will cope emotionally after our death

5. Fear of an afterlife, such as eternal oblivion, or Heaven/Hell

6. Fear of dying with an unlived life

7. Fear of dying with uncompleted projects

Thantophobia is why humans behave the way they do. Rick's untimely death when Fi was three-years-old affected her because she has no memories of her father. She often resented her brother and mother because they knew him and she did not. Rick/Fi's shared fear is emotionally coping of his death. Maya struggled with coping with the metaphorical death of her father, possibly thinking he's dead to her. Kermit intentionally abandoned his family, whereas Rick intended on returning to his family, but he didn't plan on evil spirits murdering him. Fi and Maya are stuck in the anger phase of grieving. When her grandfather is visited by a banshee, Fi tracks the creature down and asks Death personified the fairness in taking her father away from her. Death responds that it will even the imbalance by extending her grandfather's life for a time. But for seasons 1 and 2 Fi copes with death by actively seeking the paranormal afterlife to escape and accept death.

Jack's death phobia is similar to Fi's except he fears losing his sister and mother like he lost his father; his nightmare is a manifestation of that fear. In the midst of gang's lucid dream, Jack leaves them for a method to awaken from the dream but is transported to the night of Rick's. Dream Rick promises he'll return, but knowing the future Jack chases after his father. Fear trapped Jack in Grief's denial stage subsequently causing his resentment of the paranormal his dad loved so much. And it's not until 'Changeling' when Jack accepts his dad's death when he starts singing again. Surprised, Clu comments that Jack hadn't sung since Rick died. Jack responds with, "Well, maybe it's time I started again."

Minor episodes such as 'Fall' (SW) and 'Gravity' (GMW) discuss death on a smaller scale. 'Fall' details Ned and his childhood friend, Sam, on the death anniversary of their other friend's drowning. Haunted by the memory, Sam is literally haunted by Pete's ghost leading to Pete's recent. The men's responses to death are vastly different; Ned would rather forget Pete's death and Sam tries to confront it. Both are part of the grieving sequence but overall, 'Fall' discuses the myriad of complex emotions after death. Childhood deaths are rightly considered "Bad Deaths" whether or not loved ones are complicit with the death, we often feel that we could've prevented it. Sam is stuck in the bargaining and grieving stages before he can move on. As the men relive that fateful day admits he was scared of dying and can finally accept death now. In 'Gravity' the teens are crushed when a beloved bakery owner dies leaving the bakery to Topanga. The episode ends with Auggie opening his gift with a note reading "It's not My-Kranian bakery, I'm dead." Cory phones telling him that he is glad Feeney isn't dead, perhaps this was an allusion to 'I Dream of Feeney' when Cory wished him ill. Riley gives the eulogy and everyone learns to cherish their loved ones while they're alive.

Next is Molly and her death phobia in the series. Molly's emotions toward her husband are erratic in all three seasons. It's been over a decade since Rick's death and she still hasn't accepted it. In the Christmas episode 'Fountain' Molly admits to a young Fi that her loss bothers her. In 'Medium' Molly began to resent Rick's memory because she felt haunted by him wishing that she could forget him. Molly misses being a lover but is guilt-ridden because she feels like she is betraying her husband. ('Fathom') And in season 3's 'Muse,' Molly and the band travel to the town of their first concert to recapture the inspiration she felt there. Molly never gains acceptance over death and I loved that this option was shown as well. Not everything is wrapped up in a happy ending.

The final lesson is accepting your own death. Self-death may be literal like the episodes 'Rebecca', 'James Garr', 'Angel' or 'Grave Mistake'. Or death can be metaphorical like Riley becoming new personas, Maya losing herself, or the death of love. The former episodes dealt with the concept of immortality and coming to terms with one's final moments. Fi investigates a girl claiming to be Rebecca's daughter in truth, she's Rebecca herself. Amazed at how much this immortal girl knows and has seen in her years, Rebecca refutes this saying that she hates her immortality. She can never marry, she had to leave Molly, her only friend, behind. Who wants to live forever? 'James Garr' is about the titular character undergo cryonic preservation as a cancer cure. The procedure's successful, but James Gar hasn't a soul anymore with this realization he gives his life to an elderly patient Jack met. In the subplot that elderly man dying of cancer beleives that whenever death comes for him he will greet death with willingness and bravery. James Garr realizing his hollow life switch places with the man so he can live a little longer. 'Grave Mistake' is about a family friend of the family who's been receiving death threats and runs to Annie and the Phillips for help. With Annie's guidance, the woman discovers her dead husband wrote "You're dead" so that she'd remember she died. It's rare that a children's show relays the message that death isn't ominous, it's part of life.

During an interview Cooksney admitted that if Disney had allowed them to, Fi would descend into Hell to rescue her father's soul.*2 Jack would have discovered his past life as a Celtic knight who begged that his next incarnation would be as Fi's older brother. Moreover, it explains that dragon's fear of Jack in 'Strangling' and aside from familial bonds, knight life explains his overprotection of him mom from a mermaid siren. ('Fathom') A tenet of the Order of the Good Death's death positivity is "I believe that my open, honest advocacy around death can make a difference, and can change culture." Cooksney probably didn't intend for SW to have so much death focus but it's applicable to the show.

'Yearbook', 'Triangle', and 'Ski Lodge' are examples of metaphorical death. Whenever Riley embraces different personas, she's undergoing an Ego Death in an attempt to discover her true self. She becomes a Goth Girl so her classmates visualize her shadow side. Contrary to her masquerade, Riley's shadow side isn't Goth but is a metaphor of her dark side coexisting with her light side. Maya lost herself during her dalliance with Lucas to understand her relationship identity contrasting he singular identity. Later on during the love triangle's conclusion, Riley's first comment is "This love triangle needs to die. Nature knows that it needs to die." Of all her friends Riley mentions death the most, examples are 'Yearbook', 'Gravity', and 'Pluto.' Continuing with this death theme involve the teenagers' fantasies as a metaphor for the death of their romance. During their respective daydreams, Riley and Maya inform each other that their dream romance isn't reality. In Dream Riley's fantasy she dies, in essence, the girls kill their ego and their romances to grow.

Childhood Acceptance

Transforming themselves from childhood trauma are Annie and Maya's ultimate goals within the series. Annie's panther and Maya's hope are key in reaching their transformations. For this essay portion, I'm using Widow's Walk', 'Pen Pal', and 'Annie's Song.' For Maya's episodes, I'll use are 'World of Terror 3', 'Forgiveness', and 'Goodbye.'

Symbolically the panther represents the death-rebirth cycle and confronting fears. According to Spirit Animal's website, those with the panther guide are blessed with powerful protectors. In addition, panthers indicate supernatural journeys with occult leanings. Therefore her character's introduction served a purpose in So Weird despite being unplanned. Finally as Annie's panther endows her with strength to confront any obstacle before her.

'Widow's Walk' acts as a transition between death acceptance into childhood acceptance. Tired of her age limiting her privileges Annie swaps ages with an elderly woman. Shocked by her transformation she finds a bottled message from the woman's husband. Desperate for her youth back Annie begs the woman to reverse their ages. Selfishly, the woman refuses due to her thinking that her husband's waiting for her at home not realizing he died in sea storm that turned the woman into a widow. Growing weaker daily Annie knows if she can't convince the woman of the truth she will die. When Annie feints in an attempt to reach the woman and true to its nature, Annie's panther appears at her side giving her strength to continue on. Obviously Annie's successful getting her age back. What's interesting are the contradictions between the elderly woman and Annie. Both characters fear death desperately clinging to life, but Annie's aware of death while the woman would rather delude herself of human mortality. At the climax the women's remorseful of her selfishness wishing she knew how to reverse her wish. Annie's regrets her wish understanding living in the present is better than living in living in the future.

Similarly 'World of Terror' along with 'Pen Pal' shows the girls' adolescence if their positive influences were absent in their lives. By befriending Jennifer and not meeting Riley, Annie and Maya become rebellious Goths. Maya no longer believes that she deserves good things; Annie pushes her friends away. Following this change, Alternate Annie's panther is a worthless tattoo, Alternate Maya begins bulling Riley for not letting her in her bedroom. . Deprived of hope or understanding our alternates protagonists cannot accept their pasts. Being Disney, these girls defeat their alternates. Annie through using her panther power, Maya through befriending Riley in the parallel universe.

These last three deal with Maya and Annie discovering the truth and making amends with their childhoods. In 'Forgiveness' Maya writes and letter to her father, Kermit, in an attempt to forgive him as part of Cory's homework assignment. That following day Kermit returns to town hoping what his daughter said in her letter was true. Unable to forgive Kermit, he leaves once more reducing Maya to tears. As a result Maya realizes she's forgiven herself for believing she had caused Kermit's departure. By forgiving herself, Maya's ability to accept her past and find a new father figure in Shawn Hunter when he adopts her in 'Goodbye.'

In the penultimate episode the characters travel to a Native American reservation as a break from touring. Unlike her friends Annie can't enjoy her day off with strange flashbacks coming to mind. Coyote possesses the tribe's leader when a little girl becomes lost in the forest, forcing Annie to remember her childhood memories. Years earlier the Thelon family visited a jungle for a research assignment, little Annie awakens before her parents do and wanders into the forests. She happens across a petrified tribal man and it's only when a poisonous snake attacks her she realizes the danger she's in. As her parents discover their daughter's disappeared, the man rushes her to his village in an attempt to save her life. With shaman magic, the man's father removes the venom and takes Annie to a location where her parents will find her. Grateful Annie sacrificed her life to save his son, the father promises to protect her all her life in the form of a panther. With full understanding of her childhood, Annie manages to accept her past as Maya did.

Conclusion

Girl Meets World and So Weird are different shows catering to wildly different audiences. Still, each character follows similar archetypes as well as themes people wouldn't expect of Disney Channel to allow on their network. More importantly, the fact that it does shows its capability to portray mature, darker subject matters for all audiences. Readers may disagree with my argument but these are shows the current generation should watch. Girl Meets World is a television show that my generation should watch. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my essay and I would love it if you gave me your opinions on each program, as well.

End Notes

*1 – Many Disney Channel actors starred in Law & Order: SVU episodes. Von Detten, Carpenter, and Kimberly Jean Brown as examples were in that Law & Order spinoff. Someone even wrote a crossover fanfic of GMW and SVU. If a fan theorist could invent a theory that Disney and any crime universe are connected I would be ecstatic.

*2 – Walt Disney has had hell landscape stories since the 1930s. Silly Symphonies' 'Goddess of Spring' had Satan-Hades drag Persephone to Hell. Fantasia ended with the song 'Night on Bald Mountain' where Demon Satan tortures souls only stopped when Holy light/God intervenes. Frollo damns Esmerelda to Hell if he can't possess her and little mentions God and Satan. (Hunchback of Notre Dame) CoCo takes place primarily in the afterlife. Disney Channel could've done a Hell episode.

Links

www . orderofthegooddeath resources / death-positive-movement

so-weird . proboards

Disney . wikia wiki / So_Weird

www . youtube user / OrderoftheGoodDeath (Ask A Mortician)

www . youtube user / littlemissfuneral (Little Miss Funeral)

www . youtube user / UnderTheKnifeShow (Under the Knife)

www . fanfiction s / 6178294 / 1/Love-As-True-As-Time

www . fanfiction s / 6067416/1 / An-Ultimate-Hey-Arnold-Essay

www . spiritanimal . info / panther-spirit-animal /

post / 125280313440 / so-weirdgirl-meets-world-parallels-these-are-my (SW & GMW)

[geekmama]

Uncertain Terms

With thanks to Ellis_Hendricks for looking over the first draft of this, here is a Regency A/U based on a prompt from holidaysat221b:: ‘AU: Molly runs away from home when her parents try to arrange a marriage for her. She wants to pursue a life that involves science and marry for love if she ever gets married at all. She meets Sherlock, who is being pressured by his family to marry a nice girl they found for him who loves science as much as he does. It will be interesting when they figure it out.  -  @shadowyqueenbeard’

Hopefully this will more or less fit the bill...

“My name is Margaret Stamford, and I would like a room for the night, if you please.” 

Overhearing these words, Sherlock Holmes looked up, over the edge of the newspaper he had been perusing while he awaited the dinner the innkeeper’s wife had blithely (and erroneously) promised to set on the table before him “in the twinkling of a bedpost”. He had been growing quite impatient, in fact, for he’d only broken his journey because he’d skipped breakfast in favor of making an early start on the remaining seventy miles to his destination and he had grown unusually peckish by mid-day as a result. Now, however, he was quite glad that the woman had grossly underestimated the time it would take to prepare the Roasted Partridge with Asparagus, Mushrooms, and New Potatoes she’d suggested, let alone the Chocolate Soufflé with Crème Anglaise for which the Royal George was reputedly famous. 

Miss Margaret Stamford. 

A very interesting name. 

It might be mere coincidence, of course. Yet the female for whom he’d undertaken this onerous quest into the wilds of the north was one Miss Molly Hooper -- Molly being a pet name derived from Margaret, and this according to none other than Miss Hooper’s uncle, Dr. Michael Stamford of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, London. 

So, coincidence? As Mycroft was wont to say, the universe is rarely so lazy. 

And running his eyes swiftly over the female in question, Sherlock had to admit that once again his brother might very well be proven correct. 

He recalled Dr. Stamford’s description of the girl… 

… rather slight, but fairly pretty, and she’s a taking little thing when you get to know her. But there’s no nonsense about her. She’d quite understand your desire to… ah… favorably resolve your situation. 

… said situation having become a topic of discussion in the tavern-based aftermath of a Bow Street murder investigation, due solely to Dr. John Watson’s cursed inability to hold his tongue after a couple of glasses. 

Said situation was both highly annoying and inconvenient. Sherlock’s great aunt, Wilhelmina Scott, had left her fortune to “her favorite nephew”, an event that had been anticipated by the entire family. However, when the will had been read out after Aunt’s death, two months ago, it was found that the bequest was not without strings attached. 

The inheritance shall be held in trust until such time as Sherlock marries and sets up his nursery, thus fulfilling his clear duty to the family and providing my dearest sister with the grandchildren for which her heart has longed these many years. 

Sherlock had been stunned, then filled with chagrin (he could still see Mycroft’s smirk in his mind’s eye), then furious. He was all too well aware that his mother’s heart longed, having been regularly reminded of it by the lady herself since he’d come of age seven years before, and he considered the addition of this codicil such a blatant attempt to manipulate him that he was strongly tempted to wash his hands of the whole business. 

Tempted… but, in the end, he did not. Aunt’s Wilhelmina’s fortune was nothing to sneeze at, including as it did, considerable principal as well as a townhouse in London and a neat little estate in Suffolk, worth some three thousand a year in revenues (and perfect for apiculture, too). Even so unmercenary a soul as Sherlock’s could not help but be swayed -- and, of course, he had been living off the expectation to some extent for years. So, ultimately, he’d set aside his anger and his wounded pride and began, for the first time in his life, to seriously consider entering into the married state. 

He had never been “in the petticoat line”, as various of his contemporaries so vulgarly put it, but he had no doubt that he would be able to meet his marital obligations. He certainly did not look or wish for romance, however. The case called for an old fashioned marriage of convenience, one in which the bride understood quite clearly the part she would play, i.e., well-heeled young matron, capable and responsible in taking charge of domestic affairs, organizing those social engagements that were deemed unavoidable, and producing and subsequently nurturing any progeny that happened to make an appearance in the natural course of events. 

Dr. Stamford had purported that his niece, Miss Molly Hooper of Primrose Cottage, a modest seat located some five miles from York, might be a parti that would meet and even exceed expectations. She’s only twenty, not quite on the shelf, and a pleasant, good-natured girl -- and you’ll like this: she’s become quite the bluestocking, has a love of science and a grasp of its intricacies that really is little short of astonishing in a female. I believe you’d suit extremely. 

If this was Molly Hooper, this young woman who was in the process of delivering to the obviously disapproving innkeeper a mendacious explanation of the circumstances that had led to her traveling through England unchaperoned and carrying only a chipboard bandbox by way of luggage, Sherlock wasn’t certain he would have described her as taking. Physically she was of less than average height, with a figure on the spare side. She was dressed neatly, but very plainly in an olive pelisse over a gown of the same colour, not a ruffle or frill to be seen, and her headgear was of a style that had gone out of fashion some time before – prior to Waterloo, if memory served. 

Much of her countenance was hidden from him, of course, due to that hat and to his position at table in the coffee room. However, when the innkeeper’s wife (who should, by rights, have been seeing to Sherlock’s unconscionably delayed meal) joined the innkeeper in rejecting the young lady’s request for a room and added that she had no notion of young persons jauntering about the countryside and there’s always The Pig and Whistle down the road if a room is needed for the night, Sherlock decided it might be time to intervene and was thereby afforded a closer look at ‘Miss Stamford’. As he approached he observed that she had a good complexion, and a firm chin. That chin tilted a bit as she perceived that her advent at the Royal George was viewed in a less than favorable light, and her very upright posture seemed to reiterate her determined nature (and possibly extensive use of the backboard in her girlhood). 

And then, seeing the innkeeper’s attention claimed by Sherlock’s approach, ‘Miss Stamford’, too, turned to him, and he became aware that a pair of large brown eyes lent a certain undeniable appeal to that  heart-shaped visage, and that the rosy colour that stained her cheeks was really most becoming. 

Sherlock found it surprisingly easy to assume a friendly demeanor as he said to the lady, “Miss Stamford? Can I be of assistance? I believe I may be acquainted with a relation of yours, Dr. Michael Stamford of London?” 

She looked immediately startled and flushed a deeper pink. “He is my uncle, sir. But--” 

“I thought as much,” Sherlock went on, blithely. “There is just the hint of a family resemblance. Dr. Stamford and I have been friends for a number of years and it would give me great pleasure to be able to tell him I was able to come to the aid of one of his young relations. I collect you wish to procure a room at this excellent inn? Surely The Pig and Whistle would be entirely inappropriate for a young woman of good family and gentle upbringing.” And here Sherlock shifted his gaze to the innkeeper and his wife, raising a brow. 

The innkeeper rolled an eye toward his spouse, who threw up her hands and said, “Oh, very well, I shall have the Blue Chamber prepared.” 

Sherlock nodded, but added pointedly, “And while it is being prepared, Miss Stamford will join me for dinner, if she so desires. I trust it will be on the table shortly, but in the meantime we would be most obliged to you for some refreshment -- say a glass of claret for me and ratafia for the lady?” 

The innkeeper said with a bow, “Right away, Mr. Holmes,” and gave his wife another admonitory glance before bustling off. 

The innkeeper’s wife also made her exit, grumbling, and Sherlock turned once more to ‘Miss Stamford’. “I do apologize for intruding in such a brazen manner but I could hardly reconcile it with my conscience to do otherwise.” 

Where she had been pink-cheeked before, the girl had now become quite pale, staring at him, taking in his features, and even letting her eyes rove over his whole person. Then, suddenly, she became aware of what she was doing and blushed more hotly than ever. 

“Forgive me! But… are are you indeed Mr. Holmes? Mr. Sherlock Holmes?” 

“Yes, I am,” he said, a little amused. He took a small gold case from his pocket, removed a card from it and handed it to her. 

Her colour faded again as she read it. “I see,” she said, and raised her eyes again, warily. 

A smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “Yes. And I see, as well.” 

“You… what do you see?” she asked in a small voice. 

“That having had news of my coming you elected to depart from your home, rather than entertain what amounts to another in a long line of unwanted suitors. That you are Dr. Stamford’s niece, Margaret Elizabeth Stamford Hooper, called by those with whom you have close ties, Molly.” 

She paled further, but said in an even tone, “You are… astoundingly prescient. And your guess about my name is accurate.” 

“It was not a guess, but a deduction, Miss Hooper. The latter is something of a speciality of mine. But come into the coffee room and sit down,” he said, gesturing toward his table in the coffee room. “A glass of wine will set you to rights, and, thus fortified, you will perhaps tell me in what ways, if any, I can further serve you.”  

 *

 The claret and ratafia had been delivered to the table shortly after they were seated, but Mr. Holmes did not immediately press Molly, a forbearance for which she could not but be grateful. She sipped her wine, and occasionally glanced at him, wondering at his apparent intelligence, his evident effrontery, and his quite astonishingly handsome person, set off by clothing that was both elegant and understated. 

And he seemed kind, too. Since her father’s death three years before, experience had not led her to anticipate much consideration for her needs or, indeed, regard for her person, so his intervention in her difficulties and the attentions he had thus far bestowed upon her seemed exceptional -- particularly in view of her attempted deception. He had relieved her of her bandbox, pelisse, and hat, untying the ribbons of the latter himself, and requested that the innkeeper not only set their wine on the table, but fetch some bread and butter to tide them over until dinner should be served, just as though he knew she was famished (which she was, having skipped breakfast in her effort to escape Primrose Cottage before even the servants had stirred from bed). 

“Small sips, now,” he had murmured as the innkeeper had hustled away. “Until we have something substantial to accompany our libations, an enervation of the senses is almost a given should we imbibe too freely.” 

She had murmured thanks, patting ineffectually at her slightly mussed hair and tucking a stray tendril behind her ear, even as she took her first sip and tried to calm herself. This task was certainly easier said than done. 

She was nearly of age, and, in concept, traveling to London to visit her uncle and his family was unexceptionable. But she knew very well that undertaking the journey in such a scrambling manner was not the behavior of a well-bred woman. The reaction of the innkeeper and his wife had reminded her of this fact most acutely. And of course she didn’t look like a woman -- or, to tell the truth, feel like one! 

There was no use in bemoaning the fact that one’s appearance was that of a girl just out of the school room, rather than a woman on the cusp of her majority, but once again she could not help thinking it most unfair that much of the time this circumstance resulted in a lack of respect toward her that bordered on intolerable. With her father gone, her stepmother had let this tendency burgeon to monstrous proportions, exacerbating her scorn of Molly’s determination to remain unmarried if she could not marry for love. 

“Marry for love!,” Albinia Hooper had scoffed the one time that Molly had been goaded into protesting the intrusion of still another unacceptable suitor into her otherwise well-ordered life. “There never was such a low-bred, nonsensical notion. What, pray, has love to do with the keeping of a house or raising children? You’ve windmills in your head, girl. It’s time you grew up and faced some hard facts.” 

Molly had not argued the point. There was no use in trying to explain what she meant by love. Not romance, for Heaven’s sake. Contrary to her stepmother’s opinion, Molly was as practical as her father had been, and as devoted to seeking truth wherever the facts led. But she was not willing to settle for less, as he had been, in spite of the fact that an unmarried female was at a much greater disadvantage in society than any male would be in a similar case. 

Her father had understood her views, and to facilitate her long and perhaps fruitless quest he had left her what was politely termed an independence. It was a fairly generous one, too, considering that the remainder of his estate was, by law, left in trust to Molly’s stepbrother, Gerald, who had been born when Molly was ten years old. There were also twin step daughters from Albinia’s first marriage, Cassandra and Lavinia, and Molly did not grudge the girls a single penny of the dowries with which they’d been provided. She loved her step-siblings, as they did her, and it was care of them that had brightened her days after Father’s death. Albinia, once again widowed and, in her own words, distracted with grief, had welcomed Molly’s help with the children, and with the house, for several years. Time, however, had altered matters. Gerald was now away at school, and Cassie and Lavinia were old enough to make their come-out. Molly’s position in the household was fast becoming superfluous, and though she made great efforts to be of help and, simultaneously, stay out of the way, Albinia had been relentless in her promotion of marriage as the only reasonable course, and relentless, too, in the introduction of potential suitors. 

And then Aunt Stamford had written that fatal letter. 

My Dearest Molly, 

I am writing to you today because a most surprising opportunity has arisen, quite out of the blue. You know that I have been very much in sympathy with your desire to focus upon your chosen avocation of natural philosophy, eschewing the paths of courtship and marriage that are more traditional for a young women to tread. However, I must own that I doubted your decision would ultimately conduce to your happiness, content as I am and always have been to be a loving wife to your dear uncle and mother to the six darling children who are your cousins. Therefore, I dare to write to you on behalf of one of your uncle’s associates, one Mr. Sherlock Holmes, presenting him to you as a possible candidate for your hand. 

Mr. Holmes is a gentleman, the scion of an old, distinguished, and affluent family, and, on his marriage, will become a man of property in his own right. Moreover, he is a man of science himself, and his knowledge and skill in deduction have allowed him to lend his assistance to various agencies of jurisprudence here in London. In this way he came to your uncle’s notice, for you will recall that your uncle oversees the mortuary at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital and is often called upon to collaborate in criminal investigations. 

Your uncle and I have had the pleasure of Mr. Holmes’ company for dinner several times over the last few years and, after coming to know him, I cannot help but agree with your uncle when he suggests that the gentleman may be the one man in all of England who might prove acceptable to you as a mate. Since the requirements of a recent bequest have inspired him to look about for a wife, your uncle suggested you as a possible candidate. Coincidentally, Mr. Holmes had it in mind to travel north at the beginning of April, visiting friends in the vicinity of Harrogate. He determined that he would pay a call upon you and your stepmother at Primrose Cottage if your uncle and I would write to you by way of introduction. 

My dear, I do beg of you to receive Mr. Holmes kindly and without prejudice. He is a little eccentric in his manner, but underneath it he is a very good sort of man, and most handsome, too, as you will soon see for yourself. Though the latter is not a vital quality in a mate, it does make the idea of looking across the breakfast table at the same countenance for the rest of one’s life far easier to bear. 

And on that frivolous note, I am, as ever, your loving aunt, 

Emily Stamford  

 Molly’s disappointment on receiving this missive was palpable. Either this Mr. Holmes was a most unusual man indeed, or her uncle had finally persuaded Aunt Emily that their niece would be better served accepting an offer than persisting in the ways of an incorrigible bluestocking as he’d once put it. 

That memory still rankled. Had she been born a man, her predilection for science and natural philosophy would have been not only indulged, but praised! 

“Have some of this excellent bread, Miss Hooper,” Mr. Holmes said, breaking into her thoughts. The innkeeper had delivered a basket of fresh-baked rolls to the table, and Mr. Holmes was now holding out a steaming half, butter spread liberally over it and rapidly melting. 

“Thank you,” she said, and as she took it, her stomach gave an audible growl of lust at the mere scent. Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment -- and indeed, Mr. Holmes was looking amused as he bit into his own half roll -- but she took a small bite of the bread and tried to compose herself. She decided that honesty would be the best policy with Mr. Holmes, and accordingly said, after another sip of wine, “I know I owe you an explanation.” 

“As you will, Miss Hooper. I understand what a shock it must have been to run across the very person you were hoping to avoid in leaving your home in such a precipitate manner, but I assure you I am no ogre and do not mean to press you to do anything you would not like. To tell you the truth, I was hesitant to visit you in the first place, and can sympathize entirely with your reluctance to enter into the married state.” 

Molly stared at him, and then said, “What an odd man you are, Mr. Holmes!” 

“Well… yes!” he said. “I was under the impression that… er… oddity was what you were searching for in a mate.” 

She laughed a little. “I wouldn’t put it quite that way, but perhaps my uncle would.” 

“How would you put it, then?” 

She said, slowly, considering her words, “You may think it strange of me, but I believe I would value respect more than the fleeting infatuation that passes for love in these modern times. I… I have studied natural philosophy for a number of years now, and have only scratched the surface of what I wish to learn. I am not opposed to marriage, per se. But I cannot conceive of allying myself with any gentleman who might prove an impediment to my chosen avocation.” She felt herself colouring as she added, “I daresay that sounds monstrously selfish. I fear that’s the sort of person I am, however.” And she dared to look straight into those piercing, pale blue eyes… or were they pale green? She was aware of a strange internal frisson under their steady gaze. 

“I see,” Mr. Holmes replied, thoughtfully. “But you do say avocation, I note. Can it be inferred that you are not averse to taking up the day to day duties required of a wife and mother, provided you are allowed sufficient leeway in the pursuit of your studies?” 

“I would say so, yes. In fact, I would like, someday, to be able to have the running of my own house. And of course, nurses are all very well but children also need the care only a loving mother can give.” 

Mr. Holmes smiled slightly. “Do you like children?” 

And for the first time, Molly smiled, too. “Indeed, yes! I have helped raise my stepmother’s children, and one of my greatest joys is to stay with my aunt and uncle in London and help with my cousins. 

Mr. Holmes smile grew sardonic. “Dr. Stamford does have quite the brood. Six, I believe.” 

“Yes, and all of them such dear creatures, too.” 

“I daresay.” He sat back and studied Molly for a moment, and she lifted a brow and returned the favor, which again brought a sincere smile to his lips. And then he said, “Ah! Finally!” as it was seen that the innkeeper’s wife had emerged from the kitchen and was now approaching, followed by two underlings with laden trays. “Shall we postpone further discussion of this particular topic until after dinner? I feel there is hope that we may come to an understanding, but hunger… intrudes.” 

Molly chuckled and said, “I am entirely of your way of thinking, Mr. Holmes.” 

“On all points?” 

A little of her humor faded, but she replied thoughtfully, “Perhaps.”

 *

 Dinner was a resounding success. Miss Hooper had forgone breakfast just as he had done himself, and Sherlock was pleased to observe that she set to with a will, exclaiming at intervals over the excellence of the repast and then gasping in sheer delight when the chocolate soufflé was brought to the table. Their conversation throughout was desultory but edifying, Sherlock encouraging her to enlarge upon her “avocation”, and contributing his own mite by describing the details of one or two criminal investigations with which he had been involved. He was quite pleased with her reaction to the latter -- at first glance she might have struck him as a mere milk-and-water miss, but that’s where it ended. Those expressive eyes were alight with intelligence, her questions were gratifyingly cogent, and her curiosity and lack of squeamishness both did her great credit. 

They were finishing up with a glass of Port for him, raspberry cordial for her, and a dish of sweetmeats and nuts between them, when a noisy arrival at the inn that included the sound of a strident female voice caused Miss Hooper to look up in alarm, the pretty colour in her cheeks fading abruptly. 

“Oh! Oh, no! It’s my stepmother!” she uttered, and pushed back her chair, scrambling to her feet so hastily that her glass of cordial tipped over, spilling its contents across the white tablecloth. “Oh, Heavens!” she cried, horrified at the mishap, and then froze at the sound of the inn’s door opening and a male voice shouting, “House! House, I say!” 

Sherlock rose swiftly, too, but not swiftly enough. With a last despairing glance at him, Miss Hooper bolted, rushing straight across the room toward the kitchen door. Sherlock swore in annoyance as she disappeared. He quickly gathered up her abandoned pelisse, hat, and bandbox, and, with a last glance at the occupants of the foyer -- a plump matron in a purple gown had now joined the demanding, grim-faced gentleman who looked to be a parson of some sort -- he took his leave, following Miss Hooper through the kitchen. 

The only occupant of the kitchen was a mildly interested lad sitting on a stool by the open hearth, slowly turning a spit with a turkey upon it. Seeing Sherlock, the boy jerked his head toward the far door, which appeared to lead to the stable yard. 

“Thank you,” Sherlock said, and made his exit. 

It was approaching dusk, and for a moment it seemed that Miss Hooper had vanished. However, after a few moments of looking about in the waning light, Sherlock spied her, hovering near the back corner of the inn, her hands gripped together in patent indecision. He strode toward her, with a glance around to locate anyone who might see them, but the stable boys were apparently at the front of the inn, tending to the coach in which Miss Hooper’s pursuers had arrived. 

The girl watched him as he approached, and allowed him to hustle her into the shadows before speaking. She said, “It is the vicar, the Reverend Mr. Blackstone who has come with Albinia, to… to fetch me back, I suppose. Oh, what am I to do? What a dreadful scene must occur. I’m so very sorry Mr. Holmes!” 

“Miss Hooper, do put your pelisse and hat on against the chill,” he told her, calmly. “You have only to tell me what you wish to do.” 

She did as he’d bade, visibly striving for control, but as she tied on her hat while he helped her button up the pelisse she said to him, “I had planned to travel to London, to stay with my aunt and uncle -- and to ask them why they supported your suit, though of course I now understand why they did so. My stepmother, unfortunately, insisted on reading the letter from my aunt. When I expressed the desire to avoid you, and instead travel to London, she refused to entertain the notion. So I arranged a clandestine escape with a friend of mine, Barnaby Whitlaw -- the son of a local farmer. He took me up just before dawn, on his way to the market at Greenlea, some three miles from here. I walked the rest of the way, hoping to catch the afternoon Mail Coach, but I was too late. There is another that departs from here at seven in the morning, however, and that is why I needed a room for the night.” 

“I see,” he said, then, “Let me fix this,” and set to work to straighten the hat’s ribbons which she’d tied in a perfectly abominable bow. 

She stood quite still while he corrected the fault, her mouth set, but her eyes were beginning to glisten. He was almost finished with his task when she finally spoke again, her voice tremulous. “I suppose you will say I am fairly caught and it is time to have done with such nonsense.” 

He lifted his brows in surprise. “Why would I tell you any such thing? Your wish to avoid your step-mother and that parson seems quite reasonable to me. If you indeed wish to go to London, to London you shall go. There! Your bow is as fine as my skill can make it.  You are dressed warmly, and have your bandbox. Do you think you can retrace your steps toward Greenlea? Night is coming on, but I shouldn’t be above an hour.” 

“Yes. Yes, of course I can, but--” 

“I will pay the shot here and get some fresh horses put to my curricle, then travel toward Greenlea and take you up when we meet. If we stay off the main roads we will be a little delayed, but I believe we should be able to avoid pursuit and perhaps make it as far as Doncaster before we are obliged to put up for the night, thanks to this fine weather and a full moon.” 

“But what will you tell everyone? The innkeeper and his wife will surely question my departure since a room was being prepared for me.” 

“Very true. However, a word in the right ear, a guinea in the right pocket, and the thing is done.” 

She flushed. “I… it appears that I will owe you a great deal before this adventure is complete, Mr. Holmes. I am not entirely sure--” 

“Come, come, Miss Hooper!” he said, with a pretense of impatience. “You are possessed of an independence, are you not? At least I was given to understand that you are not penniless. You can very well reimburse any expenditure I may make on your behalf. Or are you concerned with the proprieties? I’m afraid that bird has flown, since your stepmother saw fit to share the story with the local parson.” 

“Oh, dear. That is very true. They say women are dreadful gossips, but Reverend Blackburn has them all beat to flinders. He is the most odious man. I never could see why Albinia cultivated his friendship.” 

“There is certainly no accounting for taste,” Sherlock said, and a crooked smile touched his lips as he considered his newly acquired taste for the company of one Molly Elizabeth Hooper. 

And indeed, she gave an answering smile, and there was a gleam in her eye as she said, “Very well. I will put my fate into your hands, Mr. Holmes.” 

“Miss Hooper, I will do my utmost to fulfill your faith in me,” he replied, and, to both her surprise and his own, he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her slender fingers.

[abumblebeeat221b]

Sherlock and the Female Gaze

If anyone asked me to point them to the most revolutionary piece of media ever created I’d probably show them Doctor Who (because guys - nothing beats a show that is basically Sherlock Holmes in space and keeps reinventing itself every other year).

But the second thing would be Sherlock. Not Doyle’s original, not the Rathbone, Granada, Soviet, new Russian adaptations (even though they are dear to me). Just 13 episodes of a TV show that was only ever meant to win some obscure film award in Eastern Europe and became a success over night instead.

The fandom that does its research has spent seven years trying to pinpoint its secret and the only thing we can agree on are three little words: it looks pretty.

On a more serious note: it is probably the first thing which made male eye-candy unashamedly mainstream. It is the millennial version of Pride and Prejudice, of Mr. Darcy, only that this time society doesn’t expect the story to bore our boyfriends to death.

And I’m not even sure that was something Mofftiss and Co were aiming for.

You see. It is a truth universally acknowledged that men have no idea what women like. They confuse it with male power fantasies ALL THE TIME because that’s what the media tells them we are day dreaming about. They are shocked to learn that we think Loki to be the sexually most appealing hero villain in the Avangers, that we consider Rodger from the original 101 Dalmatians to be perfect boyfriend material, that yes, we’d happily choose a dog loving, kind individual (with great hair) over most more manly super heroes out there.

And Sherlock ticks all the right boxes for women to find him attractive, while most guys wouldn’t think that lanky nerd to be much of a competition for them.

The cherry on our metaphorical fandom-cake is that Sherlock  is pretty much the first thing produced for a main stream audience I know of* which treats its leading male character as if he was a woman in order to cater to the female gaze (because the lgbqt+ community was not the only reason why the name Cumberbatch has showed up on most versions of the sexiest men alive lists since 2010/11).

Women look at Sherlock and think ‘sexy’ because we’ve been conditioned by the media to recognise this is what ‘sexy’ looks like.

And this my friends is where the magic happens.

You want the list? Here have the list:

A well-tailored suit is to women what lingerie is to men. And let me tell you Sherlock wearing suits doesn’t look like a coincidence from over here.

The coat. It’s like a cape. Only way cooler.

The buttons which deserve their own award™. We all know the story behind the coat™, but I’m not aware of the official one explaining why Sherlock couldn’t buy the purple shirt of sex™ in a bigger size (lucky us he didn’t). On a sidenote: too small dress sizes and strained buttons are exactly what actresses are expected to wear in front of the camera.

The white sheet of possibilities. Sherlock Holmes visits Buckingham palace wearing nothing but a sheet BECAUSE THE SCRIPT SAYS SO and I can’t be the only one feeling reminded of the long standing tradition of women having to take off their clothes for very important plot reasons™. Two series later, Moffat does it again, and while IMHO Sherlock should have kept his hospital gown on in His Last Vow, I’m aware that is a pretty problematic™ thing to say given how it belongs to the most beloved (i.e. gifed and photoshopped) bits of that episode. (While at the same time, apart from Irene Adler, we have no idea what the Sherlock ladies wear underneath).

The cheekbones. Oh. The. Cheekbones. It is shocking exactly no one that Carrie Fisher was asked to lose weight every time she played Princess Leia (yes, also that one). Benedict Cumberbatch lost weight for series 2, then went to play the villain in Star Trek: Into Darkness, came back to series 3 having to lose those muscles and some weight - which goes against the *typical* male beauty standards in the industry, just saying. (NB: I’m pretty sure he did it again for TAB and series 4, but series 2 and series 3 are the only instances I’m aware of him mentioning it).

The weapons of a woman. When was the last time the male hero was allowed to lose? James Bond gets the girl because he is the best agent out there. It’s always the best knight who slays the dragon and saves the princess. I agree today personality matters - but that just means that now he needs to slay the dragon AND be charismatic on the top of it.

Heroes aren’t damsels in distress, they don’t get favours because of their looks and smiles, they don’t rely on other people or need emotional support. They are lone wolves, strong and self-efficient in every possible sense of the word and they have more than just their muscles to show for it.

Not in Sherlock.

Odds (*literally odds*) are Sherlock wouldn’t have survived the first episode without John.

Here we have someone who manipulates Molly (and clients alike) using his charm to get what he wants. Sherlock relies on his social network all the time, his adventures are about showing us how being the Cleverest™, the Best™ does not equal success.

He gets saved, beaten and drugged by Irene Adler, and just in case we’d still have some illusions left, the script for that scene describes the leading male character with the words ‘weak as a kitten’. I leave you to draw your own conclusions.

In the same episode he wins a fight because of pepper spray.

He relies on his brother’s help to beat Moriarty. He shoots Magnussen because even Mycroft’s long arm doesn’t end up being long enough. The only reason he makes it out of that mess alive is his freaking sister he isn’t even aware of.

The point is. Sherlock is right when he points out the obvious: he is no hero, but a mess who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high. Yes, he is phenomenally good at what he does. But he also needs an assistant, someone who takes some part of the responsibilities off his not-so-bulky shoulders and helps him to win those victories.

The fairytale of the high-functioning sociopath. For some baffling reason, sometime between now and the dark middle ages humankind decided that European culture only ever allows men to seek companionship when somehow sex (or bragging about sex) is involved.

This is why “being friendzoned” is the worst that can happen to the modern man™. This is why they honestly don’t get the concept of just friends™. To a good deal of them female friends are like unicorns in that they don’t exist. To them the age old “if I’m not getting sex out of it then why should I bother?” argument works on both sides: “if you are not getting sex out of it then why should you care?”.

(Before you spam my inbox yes, I know Scrubs exists, I’m more than just familiar with House MD *laughs uncomfortably for ten years*. But. For every single piece of media that happens to get it right there are 10 AU remakes of Fifty Shades of Grey being published).

Now. What on Earth does this have to do with Sherlock?

NOTHING.  We see Sherlock having more healthy relationships in every single episode (yes even that one) than Bond will have in a lifetime. And no matter how much Sherlock insists on being a sociopath, the hero in this story has friends, imperfect friends, and whether he likes it or not they do care about him. And he cares about them too.

Otherwise Mycroft wouldn’t need to tell his little brother that caring is not an advantage and Sherlock wouldn’t meet those words like an old friend.

On top of it, the writers never code Sherlock and John as gay. No, they don’t. To be fair, they also don’t say he’s straight. However, they do make him canonically fall for Irene Adler (FYI: if him going ALL THE WAY to Karachi for her sake wasn’t a big enough clue, then MP!Sherlock keeping a picture of her in his pocket watch should have been).

And while we do see Sherlock invested in plenty of typical male stuff (he fights, he wins, he plays the rude smart arse, the hero, the brilliant detective) at the same time he also accepts it when in TEH John decides he wants to keep his distance, and Sherlock leaves the matter in Mary’s capable hands, John’s love interest, the woman who should be traditionally the mortal enemy of male friendships.

We had a whole episode which was basically Sherlock helping Mary with wedding preparations and not (just) having a bad time.

The next episode has him do his best to save his friends’ marriage. It also has him fake a relationship with a woman (who ends up owning a cottage in Sussex that comes with bees). But he never takes advantage of her even though she wouldn’t mind being taken advantage of. And when she gets her well deserved revenge he admires her for her agency. That boy is so smitten by Janine Hawkins that the original shooting script for His Last Vow  had them agreeing to marry each other should they end up without anyone else by the time they are old end grey (page 72, you’re welcome).

Sherlock gets his support system and it doesn’t ask for anything in return. He is allowed to struggle, to become emotional, to not deserve his victories and still be the hero of the show. Those 13 episodes have Sherlock stumble from one failure to the next but every single time we learn it doesn’t matter. He gets to learn from his mistakes, he gets to grow.

Yes, he has his ghosts and demons but he never needs to face them on his own, which is something I’ve only ever seen on this stupid show

_____ * If anyone wants to point out the masterpiece that’s George from the Jungle then yes, I’m aware of it (also, surprise surprise another film that was pretty popular with the LGBTQ+ folks). However, generally speaking it never became mainstream. Which is what I’m talking about here. And while Marvel’s Loki is mainstream, he is not the main character in The Avengers.

[punkscowardschampions]

Ronnie, Bronson, Charlie & Bea

Ronnie: I'm going on a run Ronnie: who wants? Bronson: My stash is depleted for some unknown reason 🤔 please stock me up Charlie: Ooh, new year new you babe? Charlie: couch to 5k is it aspirational af 😍 Bea: ✋ me Ronnie: fuck off i just dont need you pussies crying when you can't scav my gear Ronnie: what'll it be princess? the usual Charlie: c'mon, we've always shared everything, nothing is your own #carekidlife Bronson: Ha! That'll be why the lock on my door never sticks Bea: yep, not decided to get heavily into crack since we last spoke, just lots of amphetamines in any form you find 'em, tah, got exams coming up Ronnie: Shame Ronnie: reckon I'd like you more on the hard shit Charlie: just in case you missed the old place, man, giving you that nostalgia for when you had to padlock anything that wasn't bolted to the floor 😜 Bronson: Good times! 😀 Bea: Shame I'm not trying to be your type then, I guess Bea: soz darling, spoken for 💋 Charlie: Truly, missing that tenner a week pocket money, LUXURY! Ronnie: fucking am Ronnie: pissing jobcentre Bronson: I'll add it to your tab if you're desperate as Charlie: gotta learn to play their game, babe Charlie: not throw the board in a hissy Ronnie: 🖕 doss cunts Bea: catch me here fanning myself with sweet, sweet debt for future me to give a shit about Bronson: I'll wipe it out if you use some to keep me sweet Bea: sweet enough sugar 😘 Bea: but forreal, if you could manage that I would be your sugar mama for LIFE 🙏 Bronson: It's student loans not the feds Bronson: Easy peasy Bea: true, like all branches of the gov, pretty fucking useless Bea: but I'm an immigrant as far as they concerned so they treat me SO good 😋 Bronson: Same, but we can always stretch our hands out a little further Ronnie: To jack it and pat yourself on the back at the same time, yeah? Ronnie: calm it down Bronson: New year, new look too! Green looks ace with black 😄 Bea: Clearly do not have natural rhythm Ronnie, that's really not that difficult Bea: You're not a drummer, are you? 😕 Ronnie: get off my tits all of yous Ronnie: do you want gear or nah? Bronson: 🤐 Bea: I thought you'd already gone tbh Ronnie: not trying to score that weak gay shit Ronnie: hitting up a more reliable source like Charlie: rude, i'm RIGHT here Ronnie: are you even gay fitzy? always in my pussy lad Bronson: 😷 Bea: 🤢 Charlie: idk, ask ur man 💖 Ronnie: that'll be why me and Bron's dads did a bunk Bronson: Get yourself locked up at the same time just for the d, did you? Romantic Charlie: if the porn n the stereotypes n the rate of STIs are anything to go by...love is in the air always in cell block h Ronnie: princess'll have some handcuffs to get you on your way to that good loving Bea: 🚿🧠 anyone got any bleach? Bea: Charlie isn't worth the 💰 use cable ties, more authentic Bronson: 99 🚔 My fingers are on the button....Stop for the love of god Ronnie: Bron can help you out there Fitz Ronnie: 🤓 Bronson: Take that over a thicko label Charlie: Look, babe, know you wanna tie me down forever but do it yourself, don't involve the kid Charlie: 💍 diamond or no D, soz Ronnie: Bring a needle I'll snag a gem Bronson: Don't go there, C, I'm still riding the ear infection wave Bronson: It's been 84 years Ronnie: yeah cause you're a mong that can't turn an earring Bronson: In my defense I was a legit child Bea: nothing screams low-class like stabbing your friends for the bants Charlie: and i already scream homo loudly enough, don't need another reason to be hate crime-d, a thank you Bronson: If I didn't know you I'd guess bisexual Bronson: You can have that for free Charlie: what a smooth-talker! thanks babe 💖 Charlie: and if i didn't know you, i'd guess you were trying to see my dongle Bronson: Been there, repressed the trauma o that Ronnie: get a fucking room benders Charlie: why you being so homophobic when we all know how bad you want on princess? cliche stuck in the closet much Bea: shut up Ronnie: in your wet dreams Charles Ronnie: fuck off Charlie: oh the delicious tension Charlie: too much for either to bear Ronnie: I know where she's been Ronnie: fuck that Ronnie: like you wish you could gayboy Bronson: Wait, you fancy Fraze, Charlie? Ha Bea: Bron can you not encourage either of them Bea: thanks Bronson: Sorry my mind's just blown I thought he was out of his straight boy phase Charlie: What? Its a compliment for you, he's adorable, why else would you be with him? Ronnie: they're both annoying cunts Ronnie: match made Charlie: and never out of that phase, bro 😍 #daddyissues Bea: get his name out of your mouth bitch Ronnie: oi get your mouth off his dick Fitzgerald you heard her Ronnie: princess is raging like Ronnie: when your mans a slag and youre a prude Bea: As if Bea: Only one McKenna fucked up to go near you Bea: #singletear Charlie: Children, enough Ronnie: Bron do that final 9 she's going off 😂 Bronson: Walking away Bea: know you're hard up but as per we're all funding you getting your rocks off so run along and do it, no need to bore me trying to get your kicks Ronnie: know youre a snobby cunt but I don't work for you Bea: you don't work for anyone, not even JC gonna fund your lack of a life Ronnie: 🖕 mad cause I don't need reddies to fund myself Bea: yeah fuming Bea: if only I'd have thought of selling my body, wouldn't even NEED to be at cambs rn omg Ronnie: nailed it Bea: 😂 Bea: whodathunkit Bea: talking to the cure for cancer stuck inside a waster here Bea: and I'm the snob, okay Ronnie: fucking hell Ronnie: devvo like Bea: We can tell Bea: you don't need to shout about it, you've got the energy of a walking wasteland Ronnie: can't wait until you take some more speed and get more smug Bea: Right? Bea: Must sting, better only getting better Bea: why don't you get something to numb the pain- Ronnie: let you know how it feels when the lads come up Bronson: A rare compliment, you hitting it already? Ronnie: you'll have your share calm the fuck down Charlie: i don't want any, i'm busy Charlie: glad you all noted my silence, feel so listened to usually! hmpf Ronnie: so now you're a little bitch too Ronnie: fuck's sake Bronson: PARTY TIME, am I right? Really in the mood now thanks everyone Charlie: who's in who's pussy, dollface? Charlie: keep your shirt on, Bro 😂 got enough with the two angry feminists here Charlie: I've got previous plans, if you're really so hurt, you can save me some, no? Whaddya mean that'd hurt more? 😏 Bea: you're alright, I personally rather you weren't there, suits me 😘 Bronson: Shirts already off, too late 😜 Bea: Standard 👌 Charlie: you big man whore Charlie: when i'm not around to be predatory, too, tuttut Bronson: I'd wilt under your stare, you know you aren't missing out Charlie: our beautiful wallflower Charlie: I bagsy being a red rose, lil trashy but iconic Bronson: Thorn in our sides Bronson: accepted Bea: Nice one, babe Bea: i'll be an orchid, because i'm beautiful, ornamental and high-maintenance Bea: getting in there before any of you fucks can Charlie: though your silence IS noted, wonwon Charlie: don't be cross at me 😘 Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: you're not the only one who's busy Ronnie: got a dick in my mouth too like Charlie: such a skilled multitasker Charlie: teach me your ways Bronson: in private please Bronson: not a lesson I want to learn Bea: we're not living in that teen movie Ronnie: On my way Bea: 👍 getting cash out, meet you there Bronson: Doors on the latch

Bea: Morning sweetness 😴 Bea: manage to recover your good vibe/night? Bronson: is it? 😪 Bronson: Until now it wasn't too bad Bronson: Do you get to say the same or is it pure suffering? Bea: Wow, when you hit bae up with that morning text and he's like day=ruined 😰 thought we was forever 😉 Bea: Decided to get off with someone around the same time I lost track of yous, so it was fucking awful, don't tell me you coulda told me that Bronson: It's only the comedown I wanna dump you're welcome to come and nap 💗 Bronson: Not to be that know it all Bea: Molly's such a cruel, cruel mistress, she wants you to miss her when she's gone 💁 Bea: Poor bubba, better than waking up next to that pushy bitch from last night though, Jesus, what was her damage? Bea: I reckon he'd actually gone out and had his drunken kebab and THEN PAID TO GET BACK IN Bea: No sir, not alright Bea: Why do I bother? Bronson: But I'm shamelessly smitten, only girl for besides present company like Bronson: Whatever it is she's not the first or last sufferer Bronson: Thanks for the bail out and sorry I wasn't there to do the same with kebab Kev Bea: N'awwh 💞 glad I hold more appeal than Tina, don't need to be going down that route Bea: It's an epidemic! Basic bitches who can't get a man willing, yeah take that out on innocent onlookers who ain't buying and talk about how your ex ain't shit for being a creepy letch Bea: We see you sweets 💅 Bea: Any time, even if you weren't there to take that donner breath bullet Bea: I'd never ask that of anyone, even Ronnie, though she'd brag about not being arsed, I'm sure 😂 Bronson: Next time I'll carry gum and throw it at whoever you deem worthy Bronson: Give me the nod Bronson: It was all over her socials like we had a good night together until I got there first Bronson: Rather take out Tina and all her mates Bea: as if you don't already Bea: if only little miss would-be-rapist knew that strong jawline was from gurning up a storm 😉 Bea: not so sexy now Bronson: there's nothing in my pockets I'm just pleased to see you Bronson: Seriously though, some of those selfies had to go for that unflattering reason alone taking into account none of her other antics Bronson: I looked a state Bea: 😂 not fallen for that one before but i'll make an exception for you boo Bea: catch me in my duvet cocoon, please don't look at me 'cos same Bea: I dread to think Bea: kept off my accounts for that reason and many more, some of us have reputations to uphold, skank Bronson: want me to check Bronson: clean up the carnage Bronson: Then brunch, your treat Bea: please Bea: roleplay my IT bitch and I'll be feeling my boss best in time for a liquid lunch Bea: will have to damage control my face first, enjoy watching me lovingly whilst I turn a -2 to an 11 Bronson: Never get bored of staring at you, you know that Bronson: Make my hair great again Bronson: Thanks Bea: when you shoulda been Trump's campaign manager 😕 Bea: sort the weave, clean up that twitter Bea: what a wonderful world it coulda been Bronson: Last night proves I can't stop him pussy grabbing Bronson: Need you for that one Bea: This pussy bites back 😼 Bea: its not your fault, girls like that, if you tell her to fuck off, and rightly so, it'd be made like YOU were being a prick to her Bea: gotta bullshit these hoes sometimes, tis the only way Bronson: Or playing hard to get...they fire that one at me loads Bronson: 😦 Bea: 🤢 gross Bea: got that one myself a fair few times, when I'm not being accused of being a prude by Ronaldo, hilariously Bea: People are the worst Bea: 'cept us Bronson: It's only because she likes you Bronson: Flattering, isn't it? Bronson: Being called broken is my fave Bronson: "Who hurt you?" You are right now, fuck off before you get a slap yourself to feel the pain of Bea: Wouldn't that just be the perfect solution in their simplistic little world? If only Bea: Save myself the feelings of disgust not brought on by kebab breath Bea: Though, if you think that that's love coming from Ron, then you do have an answer to their riddle right there, not real but the masses'll take one look at her and buy it 😜 Bronson: No arguments here Bronson: Your socials are sparkling now so that's real comfort to take Bea: 💖 yay Bea: the world never need know Bea: as long as I didn't drunk dial or text Fraze, this day is looking up, tah babes Bronson: Not to be a know it all again so quick Bronson: but I'm going to go ahead and guess the answer to that one Bea: BITCH DON'T KILL MY VIBE Bea: I'm sure I'd have angry ranting in my inbox if I had Bea: or a passive indirect on the socials, come across one perchance smartiepants? Bronson: Might've Bronson: I'll spare you Bea: Noooooooooooooooooooo Bea: Coulda had it all Bea: Really sours my Bloody Mary Bea: Fuck sake, now he's going to think I FUCKED kebab kev and enjoyed it meanwhile I sit here virginal and scrubbing my mouth out with soap Bea: How's this game fair again, please remind me Bronson: It isn't Bronson: But I can't tell you to stop playing Bronson: All yours Bea: you're meant to be a superwhizkid Bea: can't you think up a strategy so I win Bronson: Thinking cap is on Bronson: Because my hair still looks shit as much as Bea: I'll fix your barnet Bea: Between you and Charlie, honestly Bea: Never known boys like it 😂 Bea: blatant lie, have you seen how particular Fraze is but he doesn't really have much hair to be stylin' so Bronson: 👴 awkward Bea: you fool Bea: not like that 😂 Bea: though I'll keep it in my backpocket for when we inevitably row later Bea: #malepatternbaldnessBITCH Bronson: Freebie to kick your day off right again Bea: if you refuse to tell me what to do, could you use your skillz for good at least and fucking disable my phone when i'm fucked Bronson: Last time I tried you tried to fight me like Bea: Look, I didn't say it was a task for the fainthearted 😉 Bea: and yes, you would be the first to succeed too Bea: but if anyone can, its my man 😘 Bronson: Ego boost before eggs Bronson: Whoa Bronson: Today is looking up Bea: Gotta keep you sweet with all the bitching I'll no doubt do at brunch Bea: such a Carrie move, like no one cares bitch, write it in your column or books or...what did she even write? Or was she just monologuing at her computer, like all been there babe but don't act like its buying you all that designer Bronson: Her real true love was that laptop Bronson: Solved it Bea: 😲 Bea: but Mr. Big Bea: clue in the name Bronson: Could be his wallet Bronson: explain the designer gear Bea: Exactly Bea: Just my type Bronson: I'd go in for it if I can spend and send him the receipts Bea: you must be aware there are websites for that Bea: get on it boy Bronson: It all gets too sexual for my tastes Bea: set out boundaries Bea: different strokes for different folks Bea: i'm SURE there's a millionaire out there that just wants to chat Bronson: 🤔 There's enough fighting off advances in the club Bronson: Shelving that until millionaires become good people Bea: not bad people by default Bea: just a bad system they profit from more than you Bronson: Getting deep in here Bronson: Truth though Bea: real talk take #2 Bea: where do you think charlie was last night? and who or what was he doing? Bronson: Good questions that I have no answer to Bronson: If he had a job we'd all know Bea: I need to know, suspense is killing me Bea: I didn't think anything beat drugs in his book Bea: somewhat encouraging? Bronson: You could ask but I doubt you'd get far enough into the real Bronson: It is Bronson: Boy's growing up? Bea: Full of the #bants them two Bronson: Since day 1 Bronson: I'm coming to get you, Barbara Bronson: Ready yourself Bea: *falls over gravestones like a dumb bitch* Bea: i'm good to go and looking fly Bronson: I'll do the coded knock Bronson: Made up rn Bea: Helpful Bronson: That's my thing Bronson: Soon, my love, soon

[herbalzee]

Get to know me tag!!!

Five Things You’ll Find In My Bag

   1. headphones (always!)    2. at least 50 hair ties    3. a full bottle of perfume    4. free pens from like everywhere    5. lots of tissues lmao

Five Things In My Bedroom:

a fish tank! i love my lil fishies

shoe cabinet

a Moriarty (from Sherlock BBC) calendar of him saying “Miss me?”. I love it

a small yellow chair!  

a color-coordinated bookshelf!!!

Five Things I’ve Always Wanted To Do In My Life:

learn sign language!

travel all over europe

write my own book

become a therapist

have kids!! and pets!!!

Five Things That Make Me Happy:

hanging with friends!!

listening to music, podcasts and ASMR

watching movies

doing artistic things?? idek what that means but like i love going to operas and theaters and taking aesthetic pictures and being creative, shit like that

talking, ranting, expressing my opinions comfortably, theorizing, brainstorming

Five Things On My To-Do List:

read books

hang with friends

write short stories- or write in general lmao

travel!!!

prepare for uni... i need to seriously do that

Five Things People May Not Know About Me:

i am passionate about psychology

i had an obsession with piercings and tattoos when i was younger

i had the yellow belt in karate when i was in practice

im very old school about silly things yet quite liberal about the serious stuff

im basically in love with malmo, sweden

Name?: zaina

Nicknames?: zee

Zodiac?: sagittarius

Sexual Orientation?: straight

Ethnicity?: middle eastern/ north african

Favorite Fruit?: mango!!!!

Favorite Season?: winter

Favorite Flower?: after a quick flower research, i found the soft pink spray roses and the blue hydrangea the most appealing to me

Favorite Scent?: vanilla! cocoa! banana-scented stuff (or generally fruit-scented stuff). old books!!! 

Favorite Animal?: bees!! or just any domesticated animals honestly (that can be kept at homes or farms)

Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate?: tea

Cat or dog?: dogs

Dream Trip?: a boat travelling all around western europe!!!

Number of Followers?: i dont really care about this stuff

What do I post about?: any posts containing message worth-spreading, funny content or aesthetically-pleasing stuff..

Do I get asks on a regular basis?: nope! so famous that i had to close my ask box 

Favorite Band?: twentyone pilots, little mix, imagine dragons, coldplay, hey violet, abba (almost forgot them omg)

Aesthetic?: cinematography, animals and nature, books and libraries, literally anything vintage, multicultures, feminism and femininity. i cant think of other stuff but im majorly into art

Fictional Character I’d Date?: john bender from the breakfast club!!!!

Hogwarts House?: ravenclaw

Rules: BOLD the statements that are true for you!

APPEARANCE:

I am 5'7" or taller

I wear glasses

I have at least one tattoo

I have at least one piercing

I have blonde hair

I have brown eyes

I have short hair

My abs are at least somewhat defined

I have or have had braces

PERSONALITY:

I love meeting new people

People tell me that I’m funny

Helping others with their problems is a big priority for me

I enjoy physical challenges

I enjoy mental challenges

I’m playfully rude with people I know well

I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it

There is something I would change about my personality

ABILITY:

I can sing well

I can play an instrument

I can do over 30 pushups without stopping

I’m a fast runner

I can draw well

I have a good memory

I’m good at doing math in my head

I can hold my breath underwater for under a minute

I have beaten at least 2 people in arm wrestling

I know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch

I know how to throw a proper punch

HOBBIES:

I enjoy playing sports

I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else

I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else

I have learned a new song in the past week

I work out at least once a week

I’ve gone for runs at least once a week in the warmer months

I have drawn something in the past month

I enjoy writing

FANDOMS ARE MY #1 PASSION

I do or have done martial arts

EXPERIENCES:

I have had my first kiss

I have had alcohol

I have scored the winning goal in a sports game

I have watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting

I have been at an overnight event

I have been in a taxi

I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year

I have beaten a video game in one day

I have visited another country

I have been to one of my favorite band’s concerts

RELATIONSHIPS:

I’m in a relationship

I have a crush on a celebrity

I have a crush on someone I know

I have been in at least 3 relationships

I have never been in a relationship

I have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them

I get crushes easily

I have had a crush on someone for over a year

I have been in a relationship for at least a year

I have had feelings for a friend

MY LIFE:

I have at least one person I consider a “best friend”

I live close at my school

My parents are still together

I have at least one sibling

I live in the united states

There is snow right now where I live

I have hung out with a friend in the past month

I have a smartphone

I have at least 15 CD’s

I share my room with someone

RANDOM SHIT:

I have breakdanced

I know a person named Jamie

I have had a teacher with a last name that’s hard to pronounce

I have dyed my hair

I’m listening to one song on repeat right now

I have punched someone in the past week

I know someone who has gone to jail

I have broken a bone

I have eaten a waffle today

I know what I want to do with my life

I speak at least 2 languages

I have made a new friend in the past year

Relationship status: single

Favorite color: purple, blue, green

Lipstick or Chapstick: lipstick!!

Last song I listened to: hard times by paramore

Last movie I watched: The Boss Baby

Top three TV shows:

(btw these three tv shows are the only shows ive ever watched and actually finished lmao)

BBC Sherlock

Clique

Yuri! on ice

Top three characters:

These are the ones that came to mind first, not top favorites

Sherlock (Sherlock BBC)

Todd Anderson (Dead poets society)

Savannah Karlsen (Girl, interrupted)

rules: copy/paste and replace my answers with yours and tag people :^)

a - age: 17 
b - biggest fear: my actual biggest fear is too personal so im gonna say my second biggest fear: not achieving anything valuable in my life  
c - current time: 3 am lmao 
d - drink you last had: a peach detox lmao 
e - every day starts with: checking phone  f - favorite song: of all time or currently? ive never had an all time favorite but right now my favorite song is hard times by paramore (mainly the chorus bc its awesome) 
g - ghosts, are they real: only the ones in our heads 
h - hometown: a.d. 
i - in love with: psychology 
j - jealous of: productive people 
k - killed someone: ... 
l - last time you cried: literally yesterday..  m - middle name: dont have one  
n - number of siblings: eins (one) 
o - one wish: to be satisfied with who i am and what i have p - person you last called/texted: im talking to my friend on the phone right now as im doing this.. shes the one who so kindly guided me to these fun questions q - questions you’re always asked: “why are you so quiet?” “what major are you getting into and at which university?”  
r - reasons to smile: youre very much well and alive!!

s - song last sang: i was having a fetus 1d songs marathon at like 2 am the other day so... definitely the entire up all night album

t - time you woke up: these days.. 12 pm, bc im tired and its my holiday 
u - underwear color: ohhhh boi v - vacation destination: anywhere cold filled with warm people 
w - worst habit: procrastination 
x - x-rays you’ve had: the most recent one i remember is a chest x ray y - your favorite food: pasta 
z - zodiac sign: sagittarius

post a screenshot of my lock screen, home screen, and last song played

RULES: Choose any three fandoms (in random order) and answer the questions. Then tag some friends.

I choose:

bbc sherlock

clique

yuri! on ice

The first character you loved:

ohhh, first was sherlock! then john almost 0.001 secs later

im pretty sure it was elizabeth. shes the cutest and i relate to her the most

probably Minako Okukawa, because shes so charming and funny

The character you never expected to love so much:

mrs hudson!!!!

louise!!! shes so smart and gorgeous and the least involved in the drama

yurio!!! i used to dislike him lmao but now hes my son

The character you relate to most:

molly hooper

like i said above, elizabeth!

ohh definitely yuri

The character you’d slap

john because sherlock suffered sooo much for him and opened his heart only to be abandoned because john is a naive idiot who still cant tell sherlock’s NOT a sociopath

SO MANY bc almost all of them did shitty things.. but the ones id slap right on sight are Alistair and the Steiner dude

ohmygod no, theyre all pure!! probably yurio bc that kid needs to love himself (but id immediately hug him right after)

Three favorite characters (these are in order of preference):

sherlock & john (one answer), mrs hudson, WIGGINS

holly, rachel, and fay (elizabeth and jude too)

the obvious trio: yuri, victor and yurio

A character you liked at first but not so much anymore:

mary lmao

alistair. i was a little suspicious of him but i liked him at the beginning bc he was cute and innocent. i HATE him now obviously

i love them all.. theres not a single one i dislike

A character you did not like at first, but they’ve grown on you:

ahahah mycroft

 uh georgia

christopher and JJ (but now i love them both so much)

[keyandcrown-blog]

about Jim~

Name: James Moriarty

Nicknames: Jimmy & Jim

FC: Andrew Scott

Younger FC: Asa Butterfield

Age: 32

DOB: October 21

Male: He, Him, His

Jim is Bi - With the preference of men.

Roman Catholic

Hight: 1.73m

Eyes: Black

Hair: Brown

Allergies: Tomatoes

Occupation: Consulting Criminal, London’s most dangerous man.

First murder is at 15 years old

Irish (born in Dublin)

Accent gets thicker when angry

Jim is always wearing a mask.

Build: Slim with muscle

Tattoos: tiger on his left shoulder blade and a little black bird on his right wrist while a tiger paw print on his left (these stop him from hurting himself.)

Piercings: Right ear lobe

Clothing Style: Business suite most of the time (unless he’s at home then its casual t-shirts and jeans)

Usual Expression: Bored, manic, smirking, angry, blank (only Sebastian - his siblings will see him truly smile)

Distinguishing Characteristics: his dark eyes that look like the pits of hell and how he can freeze your soul with one glance, his high pitch voice that he puts on when he’s with a client

Is actually insecure

has a weak immune system.

He takes so many pills, and has so many problems that the only way for him to feel in control is that mask.

Has bipolar / mania and depression. Anger problems, frequent insomnia, stays up late when working, has nightmares so sometimes avoids sleep

Emotional Stability: 3 can break down, lacks emotion, cant express himself well, has Depression.

Sociability: Requires alone time, hates being around ‘normal’ people, will only spend his social time with his sniper, if you are interesting enough or he can see that you are not an idiot (to him that is) then he will probably spends time with you.

Label: Napoleon of Crime

Positive Traits: Protective of his family and loved ones.

Negative Traits: Loves killing, is a killer, doesn’t care who he is killing

Goals/Desires: to retire after building and passing on a successful criminal empire.

Fears: loosing the only thing he loves, for his empire/all his hard work to fall apart. 

Hobbies: plays the violin

Habits: carrying a gun in his pocket

Alcohol Use: Loves whisky, borbon and other fine alcohol money can buy.

H I S - S I B L N G S

Jim is the Oldest Twin.

He is the most protective and will make sure that NO ONE touches or hurts them.

Name: Richard (Moriarty) Brook

Same age as his brother.

Will sacrifice everything for his brother.

They both love to swap places now and then

Has a crush on Sebastians brother Severin

Is working as an actor.

Knows his brother better than anyone else.

Jim changed Richards surname to protect him.

Written by: me: Keyandcrown - (v:TwinActor)

(v:TwinSister)

Jillian Moriarty

Middle Child of the Triplets.

Joined at the hip with Jim

Partner in crime

Touch her - you wont see the next morning.

Written by: jillianmoriarty

O t h e r Q u e s t i o n s

2. Their mother? How do they think of her? What do they hate? Love? What influence - literal or imagined - did the mother have?

(FC: Monica Bellucci)

There are 3 version off what happened to his mother and 2 end up with her leaving James and his younger siblings when he is 6 years old.

1st- is that their mother tried to protect her children from their father, who is a drunk abusive man, and ended up killing her when he pushed her hard and she smashed her head on the ground. (In this one James loves his mother and killed his father out of revenge.)

2nd- their mother is also an alcoholic, all siblings hate their parents, the youngest is sent by James to live with their Grandparents. In the end James kills both of them, because he despised them and makes it look like they drank themselves to death… Getting away with it.

3rd- their mother abandoned them when the twins were only 2, again father is abusive and James kills the Father in order to protect his younger Twin brother.

22. Who are their friends? Lovers? ‘Type’ or ‘ideal’ partner?

-Jims friends are very few, he has his siblings, Sebastian and Alfred his godfather- (who is his Doctor, (housekeeper and kinda butler…)But mainly his Doctor)- (FC: Ian McKellen)

-lovers? Sebastian Also Molly/Matty when they dated.- -type? Well Jim doesn’t have a type, really… Yet maybe he does… -


23. What do they want from a partner? What do they think and feel of sex? 


-His partner needs to have similar interest… Classical music, perhaps opera, Shakespeare, reading… His partner needs to be able to look past his career choice, accept him for who he is. As for sex… he is insecure, he hasn’t had enough love in life... but really he doesn’t see the appeal in it.

He wants to be looked after, loved, shown that someone does want him, no matter what his life choices are.

31. Does your character have children? How do they feel about their parental role? About the children? How do the children relate?

-yes, Jim has children. In one verse (v:Legacy), Jim and Sebastian, got a surrogate mother who took both their seed and she birthed James Jr (Asa butterfield).

Then there is Todd (FC:Peter Evens) (v:Betrayal) who was adopted when his parents betrayed Jim and got him kidnapped, the boy is 5 years old and if Rp'ed together with James(Jr) he is 3 years older than him.

In another version Sebella (Seb!fem) birthed a little girl, Jane Moriarty.- (FC:Emily Browning)

-Jim adores his children, his main goal was at first To build an criminal empire to then pass on… But now, he just wants, first and foremost to see his children grow up happy, and if they do take over the empire, then he will be overjoyed.-

T o d a y

Jim is a billionaire and has an empire worthy of a king.

He keeps accepting Clients but he never leaves evidence to him - no he makes sure that all evidence will point to his client, meaning that even if they had fully done the job, he would not be the one to go to jail but the one who was responsible.

E X T R A

Zodiac Sign: Libra (September 23rd – October 23rd)

MBTI: ENTJ, or, INTJ

Enneagram: 5 or 1

Temperament: Choleric

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Moral Alignment: Evil

Primary Vice: Pride?

Primary Virtue: look here

Element: Air

Weather: Winter (causes chaos on the roads)

Colour: Red

Music: classical, violin, piano

Movies: horror, sci-fi

Sport: cricket (tv), badminton (outside)

Beverage: Whisky, Borbon

Food: Chocolate, spaghetti

Animal: Cat, Magpie, Tiger

[jerome-blog1]

Bedtonic – A Local Linen Business I Really Love

via

Bedtonic founder Julie Ramsay. Photo Rae Fallon.

I always admire it when people don’t merely just dream or talk about doing things, but they actually go out and give them a red-hot go. It makes sense that I frequently admire small business owners, professionals and creatives, and one of my favourite local businesses is also run by one of the nicest women. Julie Ramsay, the founder of Bedtonic, is not only a wonderfully generous person who has the most infectious energy; she also founded, in a highly competitive market where most small businesses go bust in two years, a successful, sustainable small business selling the most beautiful linens for the home (and body). On top of that, she started Bedtonic in her early 50s, wrapping her head around the complicated worlds of tech, e-commerce and social media at an age when, to be quite frank, I know other 50-somethings who can barely send a text message!

I can personally attest that Julie’s Bedtonic linen is a pleasure to have on our bed… and on my body. (Her iconic Poet’s Tunics are one of my go-to’s, particularly perfect for holidays and days at the beach).

This year we have had the pleasure of experiencing one of the new pure French flax linen bespoke blankets from the Bedtonic range too. I could probably write a blog post just on this blanket and how much I love it. Here it is, below. If you think of linen as being hard and rough, you’d be extremely surprised. Julie’s flax linen blankets are super soft straight off the bat, they come in the most beautiful colours, and they keep you so snug and cosy. It has been absolutely freezing at night this winter, and we honestly have not turned on the split system in our bedroom ONCE all these chilly nights. We pop the blanket over our lightweight doona, and the blanket is enough. It’s perfect. And it’s perfect on warm nights too – you don’t get tooo warm – and we just chuck it in the wash when it needs it. (I next want to buy one for Little Nerd’s bed… lucky boy! I believe all of my childhood sheets were 110% flammable polyester).

Our Bedtonic bespoke blanket teamed with my Euro Hawtrey cushion from Orno Interiors.

Julie grew up in picture-perfect Wanaka, New Zealand (yes, home of the famous Wanaka tree). She later moved to Australia, married her husband Donald, and they had a daughter, Mollie, spending the first year of her life on a cattle farm north-west of Perth where Donald had farmed all his life. The flat and often very dry landscape was completely different to the scenery Julie had been used to growing up amidst the spectacular lakes and soaring alps of Wanaka, but inspired Julie all the same.

When Mollie was still young, Julie saw an opportunity to start a drive-through coffee business in Broome.

“We were building our own house at the time and noticed there was nowhere for all the tradies who were starting work at seven to get a good coffee first thing in the morning! My husband said I would ‘blow my dough’ but that didn’t stop me. I started with a tiny trailer that I trucked over from Brisbane and made twenty coffees on my first day. Four years later I was making four hundred or more coffees each morning.”

Donald’s initial skepticism of Julie’s business concept disintegrated quickly and he joined her in the coffee shop. “My husband swapped cows for coffee and we worked like mad together in the business for four years,” she says. “We had incredible community support and went on to win a small business achiever award for the Kimberley region. I learnt a lot about grit and determination during this time.” In 2013, they sold up and moved to Perth to be nearer to their families.

Photo Jessica Wyld

Bedtonic began after Julie realised she was getting tired of working long rigid hours in hospitality. She knew she wanted a new job that would give her more flexibility with family life. “Mollie was put in daycare from 18 months to five, and I really wanted an online business that would allow me to be present with her more,” she says. “I also felt washed-up in hospitality at 50 when we moved back to Perth. So I took a year off and creatively brainstormed ideas around how I wanted the next chapter of my life to look.”

Photo Rae Fallon

Julie could see the transition with e-commerce, noticing more and more people were gathering faith in buying things online, and decided to begin an online store. “This suited me with Mollie who was seven at the time,” she says. “I saw the retail environment changing and e-commerce becoming the new way forward. Removing the retail overheads was also a big tick for me. By taking the wholesale out, I could pass the savings onto our customers. Providing personal customer service in a timely manner was and still is also key.”

But what to sell? Julie soon realised her favourite business ideas related to sustainability – and her happy childhood. “Growing up in New Zealand, my mum was a seamstress,” she says. “I remember a constant stream of ladies coming in and out for fittings and alterations, with patterns and pins and Mum’s Singer sewing machine taking pride of place on our dining table. My dad had a rafting business and was involved with the conservation and fisheries department. So from a young age I was very aware of sustainability, and nature and all that it offered.”

Searching for a sustainable business idea, Julie looked back to her roots for inspiration. “I’d always loved natural textures and fibres – oh, and I LOVE my bed,” she laughs.

“It’s the place I go to escape the flurry of life. It is my sanctuary when I need to unplug.”

With both of these loves as her inspiration, she decided to create her own line of high-end, long-lasting bedding, blankets, cushions and clothing, and started researching all sorts of different fibres. “I have always worn natural fibres and before I fell in love with sleeping in linen, I was always an Egyptian cotton girl… thick white crisp sheets like Grandma’s!” she says. “But ultimately, linen won me over,” she reveals, adding that she thinks of linen as nature’s wonder fibre. “Linen is a sustainable crop. It uses fewer fertilisers and four times less water than cotton during cultivation.”

And the feel.

“I love the fact it’s soft washed (with pumice stones) which makes it so buttery soft from the first time you wear or sleep in it… it’s not scratchy like grandma’s old tea towels!” laughs Julie. “It’s so soft but still has a weight that drapes around you. It’s whisper quiet, breathes well and keeps you cool in the summer months yet warm in winter. And the garments are so well made – French seam finishes ensure longevity and durability.”

Some people think that a hotel-like bed is only possible in well, hotels. But Julie says she believes in investing (in a good quality mattress, toppers, bed linens and pillows – whatever you need) to make every night you sleep at home as rejuvenating as you can.

“We spend $200 on a garment or pair of shoes but often short-change ourselves when it comes to sleep,” she says. “And we shouldn’t – after all, we spend one-third of our lives in bed! Bed is our haven so our bedroom should be the place we go to unwind. A comfortable bed with your favourite bedding is key to a good night’s sleep.” (Perhaps a good night’s sleep every night is why she has so much energy?)

Photo Jess Wyld

Starting with only a few key items in her online shop, it wasn’t long before the name Bedtonic was well-known – now Julie’s linen products have appeared in an impressive host of nationwide magazines and newspapers and her thrilled customers regularly give her five star reviews (“Gosh, I wish we had started those reviews three years ago!” she moans) and one of her biggest sellers, her iconic poet’s tunic, has become a staple of effortless capsule wardrobes, with fans from millennials to the more mature.

“I think it’s the structure of the garment, its French seams (no raw edges) and durable weight give it an industrial, lived-in, no-fuss look and feel,” says Julie on why she thinks they are so popular. “The cut of the garment allows it to fit all sizes and it cuts across generations in appeal. They are the epitome of the capsule wardrobe staple. We hear stories all the time of our tunic being spotted in different corners of the globe. Customers wear them straight out of bed to the school gates, beach, bar and back to bed! We have customers who own up to five of them in different lengths and colours. They really do have their own cult following!”

One of the Bedtonic Poets tunics (modelled by my lovely friend Kaylie Bodeker! Perth is a small world city). Photo at Kawa Heart Studio.

So how does a typical day running her small business go? As much as Julie loves her bed, she will leave it for a hot cup of coffee, which is how she starts every day at work. “I get up for coffee – always!” she says. “I’m actually a tea drinker for the rest of the day but it must start with coffee.

“Then it’s a walk around my neighbourhood with our schnauzer Buddy in the winter, or in summer I try and swim as many mornings as I can. It’s without doubt the best start to my day. By 9.30 I’m in my home office – even though I have an assistant, Cass, there is always my nail it list to work through.

“Orders are packed by my niece who’s studying, so she comes three days a week. By 5pm I’m either ready for a glass of wine before dinner or it’s tea on the run and more work. I’m trying to make myself stop work at nights and lock some Netflix in. No two days are the same though. Next week I will be in Shenzhen visiting our makers again which I do each year.”

2019 has been a huge year for the Bedtonic team behind the scenes as they have been working on a rebrand to tie all their labels, packaging and swing tags in line with each other, they’ve introduced new eco-friendly reusable and recyclable shipping bags, and Julie has been working closely with her seamstress designing new loungewear to add to their collection. “This design process is really important for me so I can hold me hand on my heart and say this has not been copied form another store – true ethically designed products,” she says.

They recently launched three news clothing items – their Field Dress, an oversized linen shirt called the Mollie Shirt (“think big comfy pyjama shirt with large shell buttons!”) and Slouch pants, which Julie is very excited about! “They are THE most comfortable slouch pants you will ever wear with a wide ribbed top to fold over for superb comfort!” she says.

“I had friends over in different shapes and sizes when these pants were being sampled and some would say, ‘Oh no, I won’t be wearing those.’ I said just try them for me and then, ‘Oh you’re right, they are soooo comfortable’.

“I’m super excited about these pieces as they are as comfy as pyjamas but you can wear them out for coffee, lunch, to the bar and home to bed again, just like all of our Poets tunics!”

My new linen Euros with our bepsoke blanket – I love these colours together.

While Bedtonic keeps her busy, Julie also says one of the wonderful things about Bedtonic is the work-life flexibility it gives the Ramsays. Julie, Donald and Mollie, as well as their schnauzer x poodle Buddy and cat Harry (“they are best mates”) currently live in Daglish, where the human members of the family think big – and exciting – when it comes to the future.

“We sold our workers cottage in West Leederville so we’re in a transition period of renting while we plan out our next digs,” reveals Julie. “The plan is to spend six to twelve months in France before Mollie finishes high school, and then I would love a pod home on land back in the country and a weekender in Perth!” Her own interiors style is an eclectic mix of contemporary and vintage and I love contemporary art. “A lot of my furniture is repurposed, some from kerbsides or bought from travels,” she shares. “I love mixing things up and I’m not afraid of colour. I have moved so much over the years that I now loathe clutter (or maybe it’s an age thing) I really like the notion of ‘less is more’ and I hate waste.”

So what advice would Julie give to other people wanting to take the plunge into their own small business?

“You have to really hone in on what you’re passionate about,” she says. “What makes your heart sing, what works for you around your lifestyle, family, your location, etc and then go for it! If you truly follow your passion then you will not tire of it and on the nights long after everyone else has gone to bed, it really won’t feel like work at all! There is a saying that goes starting a small business is like jumping off a cliff and building a model aeroplane on the way down… true that!” Maya x

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Posted by anneedmonsonus on 2019-10-16 13:29:18

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Bedtonic – A Local Linen Business I Really Love

Bedtonic founder Julie Ramsay. Photo Rae Fallon.

I always admire it when people don’t merely just dream or talk about doing things, but they actually go out and give them a red-hot go. It makes sense that I frequently admire small business owners, professionals and creatives, and one of my favourite local businesses is also run by one of the nicest women. Julie Ramsay, the founder of Bedtonic, is not only a wonderfully generous person who has the most infectious energy; she also founded, in a highly competitive market where most small businesses go bust in two years, a successful, sustainable small business selling the most beautiful linens for the home (and body). On top of that, she started Bedtonic in her early 50s, wrapping her head around the complicated worlds of tech, e-commerce and social media at an age when, to be quite frank, I know other 50-somethings who can barely send a text message!

I can personally attest that Julie’s Bedtonic linen is a pleasure to have on our bed… and on my body. (Her iconic Poet’s Tunics are one of my go-to’s, particularly perfect for holidays and days at the beach).

This year we have had the pleasure of experiencing one of the new pure French flax linen bespoke blankets from the Bedtonic range too. I could probably write a blog post just on this blanket and how much I love it. Here it is, below. If you think of linen as being hard and rough, you’d be extremely surprised. Julie’s flax linen blankets are super soft straight off the bat, they come in the most beautiful colours, and they keep you so snug and cosy. It has been absolutely freezing at night this winter, and we honestly have not turned on the split system in our bedroom ONCE all these chilly nights. We pop the blanket over our lightweight doona, and the blanket is enough. It’s perfect. And it’s perfect on warm nights too – you don’t get tooo warm – and we just chuck it in the wash when it needs it. (I next want to buy one for Little Nerd’s bed… lucky boy! I believe all of my childhood sheets were 110% flammable polyester).

Our Bedtonic bespoke blanket teamed with my Euro Hawtrey cushion from Orno Interiors.

Julie grew up in picture-perfect Wanaka, New Zealand (yes, home of the famous Wanaka tree). She later moved to Australia, married her husband Donald, and they had a daughter, Mollie, spending the first year of her life on a cattle farm north-west of Perth where Donald had farmed all his life. The flat and often very dry landscape was completely different to the scenery Julie had been used to growing up amidst the spectacular lakes and soaring alps of Wanaka, but inspired Julie all the same.

When Mollie was still young, Julie saw an opportunity to start a drive-through coffee business in Broome.

“We were building our own house at the time and noticed there was nowhere for all the tradies who were starting work at seven to get a good coffee first thing in the morning! My husband said I would ‘blow my dough’ but that didn’t stop me. I started with a tiny trailer that I trucked over from Brisbane and made twenty coffees on my first day. Four years later I was making four hundred or more coffees each morning.”

Donald’s initial skepticism of Julie’s business concept disintegrated quickly and he joined her in the coffee shop. “My husband swapped cows for coffee and we worked like mad together in the business for four years,” she says. “We had incredible community support and went on to win a small business achiever award for the Kimberley region. I learnt a lot about grit and determination during this time.” In 2013, they sold up and moved to Perth to be nearer to their families.

Photo Jessica Wyld

Bedtonic began after Julie realised she was getting tired of working long rigid hours in hospitality. She knew she wanted a new job that would give her more flexibility with family life. “Mollie was put in daycare from 18 months to five, and I really wanted an online business that would allow me to be present with her more,” she says. “I also felt washed-up in hospitality at 50 when we moved back to Perth. So I took a year off and creatively brainstormed ideas around how I wanted the next chapter of my life to look.”

Photo Rae Fallon

Julie could see the transition with e-commerce, noticing more and more people were gathering faith in buying things online, and decided to begin an online store. “This suited me with Mollie who was seven at the time,” she says. “I saw the retail environment changing and e-commerce becoming the new way forward. Removing the retail overheads was also a big tick for me. By taking the wholesale out, I could pass the savings onto our customers. Providing personal customer service in a timely manner was and still is also key.”

But what to sell? Julie soon realised her favourite business ideas related to sustainability – and her happy childhood. “Growing up in New Zealand, my mum was a seamstress,” she says. “I remember a constant stream of ladies coming in and out for fittings and alterations, with patterns and pins and Mum’s Singer sewing machine taking pride of place on our dining table. My dad had a rafting business and was involved with the conservation and fisheries department. So from a young age I was very aware of sustainability, and nature and all that it offered.”

Searching for a sustainable business idea, Julie looked back to her roots for inspiration. “I’d always loved natural textures and fibres – oh, and I LOVE my bed,” she laughs. “It’s the place I go to escape the flurry of life. It is my sanctuary when I need to unplug.”

With both of these loves as her inspiration, she decided to create her own line of high-end, long-lasting bedding, blankets, cushions and clothing, and started researching all sorts of different fibres. “I have always worn natural fibres and before I fell in love with sleeping in linen, I was always an Egyptian cotton girl… thick white crisp sheets like Grandma’s!” she says. “But ultimately, linen won me over,” she reveals, adding that she thinks of linen as nature’s wonder fibre. “Linen is a sustainable crop. It uses fewer fertilisers and four times less water than cotton during cultivation.”

And the feel.

“I love the fact it’s soft washed (with pumice stones) which makes it so buttery soft from the first time you wear or sleep in it… it’s not scratchy like grandma’s old tea towels!” laughs Julie. “It’s so soft but still has a weight that drapes around you. It’s whisper quiet, breathes well and keeps you cool in the summer months yet warm in winter. And the garments are so well made – French seam finishes ensure longevity and durability.”

Some people think that a hotel-like bed is only possible in well, hotels. But Julie says she believes in investing (in a good quality mattress, toppers, bed linens and pillows – whatever you need) to make every night you sleep at home as rejuvenating as you can.

“We spend $200 on a garment or pair of shoes but often short-change ourselves when it comes to sleep,” she says. “And we shouldn’t – after all, we spend one-third of our lives in bed! Bed is our haven so our bedroom should be the place we go to unwind. A comfortable bed with your favourite bedding is key to a good night’s sleep.” (Perhaps a good night’s sleep every night is why she has so much energy?)

Photo Jess Wyld

Starting with only a few key items in her online shop, it wasn’t long before the name Bedtonic was well-known – now Julie’s linen products have appeared in an impressive host of nationwide magazines and newspapers and her thrilled customers regularly give her five star reviews (“Gosh, I wish we had started those reviews three years ago!” she moans) and one of her biggest sellers, her iconic poet’s tunic, has become a staple of effortless capsule wardrobes, with fans from millennials to the more mature.

“I think it’s the structure of the garment, its French seams (no raw edges) and durable weight give it an industrial, lived-in, no-fuss look and feel,” says Julie on why she thinks they are so popular. “The cut of the garment allows it to fit all sizes and it cuts across generations in appeal. They are the epitome of the capsule wardrobe staple. We hear stories all the time of our tunic being spotted in different corners of the globe. Customers wear them straight out of bed to the school gates, beach, bar and back to bed! We have customers who own up to five of them in different lengths and colours. They really do have their own cult following!”

One of the Bedtonic Poets tunics (modelled by my lovely friend Kaylie Bodeker! Perth is a small world city). Photo at Kawa Heart Studio.

So how does a typical day running her small business go? As much as Julie loves her bed, she will leave it for a hot cup of coffee, which is how she starts every day at work. “I get up for coffee – always!” she says. “I’m actually a tea drinker for the rest of the day but it must start with coffee.

“Then it’s a walk around my neighbourhood with our schnauzer Buddy in the winter, or in summer I try and swim as many mornings as I can. It’s without doubt the best start to my day. By 9.30 I’m in my home office – even though I have an assistant, Cass, there is always my nail it list to work through.

“Orders are packed by my niece who’s studying, so she comes three days a week. By 5pm I’m either ready for a glass of wine before dinner or it’s tea on the run and more work. I’m trying to make myself stop work at nights and lock some Netflix in. No two days are the same though. Next week I will be in Shenzhen visiting our makers again which I do each year.”

2019 has been a huge year for the Bedtonic team behind the scenes as they have been working on a rebrand to tie all their labels, packaging and swing tags in line with each other, they’ve introduced new eco-friendly reusable and recyclable shipping bags, and Julie has been working closely with her seamstress designing new loungewear to add to their collection. “This design process is really important for me so I can hold me hand on my heart and say this has not been copied form another store – true ethically designed products,” she says.

They recently launched three news clothing items – their Field Dress, an oversized linen shirt called the Mollie Shirt (“think big comfy pyjama shirt with large shell buttons!”) and Slouch pants, which Julie is very excited about! “They are THE most comfortable slouch pants you will ever wear with a wide ribbed top to fold over for superb comfort!” she says.

“I had friends over in different shapes and sizes when these pants were being sampled and some would say, ‘Oh no, I won’t be wearing those.’ I said just try them for me and then, ‘Oh you’re right, they are soooo comfortable’.

“I’m super excited about these pieces as they are as comfy as pyjamas but you can wear them out for coffee, lunch, to the bar and home to bed again, just like all of our Poets tunics!”

My new linen Euros with our bepsoke blanket – I love these colours together.

While Bedtonic keeps her busy, Julie also says one of the wonderful things about Bedtonic is the work-life flexibility it gives the Ramsays. Julie, Donald and Mollie, as well as their schnauzer x poodle Buddy and cat Harry (“they are best mates”) currently live in Daglish, where the human members of the family think big – and exciting – when it comes to the future.

“We sold our workers cottage in West Leederville so we’re in a transition period of renting while we plan out our next digs,” reveals Julie. “The plan is to spend six to twelve months in France before Mollie finishes high school, and then I would love a pod home on land back in the country and a weekender in Perth!” Her own interiors style is an eclectic mix of contemporary and vintage and I love contemporary art. “A lot of my furniture is repurposed, some from kerbsides or bought from travels,” she shares. “I love mixing things up and I’m not afraid of colour. I have moved so much over the years that I now loathe clutter (or maybe it’s an age thing) I really like the notion of ‘less is more’ and I hate waste.”

So what advice would Julie give to other people wanting to take the plunge into their own small business?

“You have to really hone in on what you’re passionate about,” she says. “What makes your heart sing, what works for you around your lifestyle, family, your location, etc and then go for it! If you truly follow your passion then you will not tire of it and on the nights long after everyone else has gone to bed, it really won’t feel like work at all! There is a saying that goes starting a small business is like jumping off a cliff and building a model aeroplane on the way down… true that!” Maya x

The post Bedtonic – A Local Linen Business I Really Love appeared first on House Nerd.

from Home Improvement https://house-nerd.com/2019/10/16/bedtonic-linen-win/