#mr kerr...my everything....

[abnomi]

⚠️ HUGE SPOILERS FOR BEACON PINES

hi im shy but i want to share some writing i did using the dialogue in beacon pines as a base... just expanding on conversations that happened in-game so that i can start writing my own stuff later :-] i wrote everything aside from the dialogue between sharper and kerr! this is purely exploratory, i wanted to explore the dynamic between them further.

this is the walkie talkie conversation that Beck picks up on her radio in chapter 5... the exchange was so fascinating to me and revealed so much about Kerr and Sharper and their relationship. made me rip off all of my eyelashes kind of

Chapter 5 - Dangers Big and Small; Radio Interference

Too angry to sleep, Beck tried dialing in with her radio set to see if she could find something interesting after her disapproving mother left her room. She had scolded her for her freshly dyed blue hair only moments before, to Beck’s discontent. How else was she supposed to hide the new gray hair she had grown just earlier that same day? She thought it made her look like some kind of mature academic, or someone who'd been through a rough office job of thirty years in a twelve-year-old’s body.

After channeling through random channels for about five minutes, she picked up on a signal. Someone was talking. The voice through the radio was strangely familiar… a somewhat nasal voice that at least a dozen in town shared, all eerily similar.

“Mr. Kerr? Are you there?” A Clipboard was on the line, a concerned and somewhat urgent tone breaking through the static. What could he possibly be requesting for at this hour? The desperation in his voice subtly got more evident at his second attempt to call. “Mr. Kerr?”

“Yes? I'm busy. What is it?” An annoyed William Kerr finally picked up, carrying a dismissive effect in his speech. He hoped this would be brief; he didn't have time for nonsense, and his urging impatience shone through in the way he spoke.

“Apologies, I have the founder on the line.”

Immediately, Kerr's attention was piqued. “Patch him through immediately.” He felt much more alert than before, heart racing in his chest. Even a mere mention of him without a name being so much as uttered was enough to send him into a fit of anxiety.

“One moment…” the Clipboard meekly replied.

Trying to compose himself the best he could given the few spare seconds he had, the hyena affably greeted the founder who was now on the other line, gleaming a honeyed presence. The man was able to switch between masks so effortlessly; it was like second nature to him. His adaptability was one of the few traits that had consistently served him well, especially in urgent cases like these.

“Hello, sir!” Kerr chirped, “It's so nice to hear from you!”

There was a pause. Kerr's mind raced in the space between; did he say something wrong? Did his words not come through?

“Skip the pleasantries.” Sharper Valentine was very straight-to-the-point; a man who always took himself very seriously, abiding by the high standards he put himself upon. He held his ego up twice as tall, his dense assertive confidence obscured all else and mismatched his temporary small stature. The irony of his voice being that of a child’s was always uncanny in the way it never aligned with how he carried himself. It was just as raspy as it was before, due to all of the smoking he did on a regular basis, throat scratchy and gruff. “What's your report on our new Lead Researcher of Deep Engineering?”

Beck’s focus on the conversation grew more and more as she processed what was going on, now even more so that they were talking about her mom. What were they doing with her?

Kerr responded a bit flatly to match the atmosphere Sharper had created. “Nelly Moedwil seems to be integrating nicely.”

Her name. Beck hearing her mom's name felt like getting hit by a truck. Now there was no denying it; something was wrong. She might be in trouble. These people can't be trusted.

“At this very moment, she's working to help us meet our deadline,” Kerr continued. “She offered to work overtime before I even had a chance to suggest it.”

“Excellent,” Sharper emphasized his next sentence, “and you have faith that she's capable of finishing the work left by her predecessor? Her work must be complete before the festival.”

“I will make sure she stays day and night until it's accomplished.”

Beck had to refrain herself from saying anything; she was in a state of shock. Even if she tried to speak, she was already stunned into silence, her throat tight.

“Good. You know how I feel about loose ends.” These words implied some ominous undertones. What could he possibly mean by that? Beck had to ruminate on this later, listening comes first.

Grimly, Kerr replied. “Yes, sir.” He'd dealt with loose ends before. At least he knew what to expect this time.

“Once she has finished the work, we need to make a determination regarding her… long-term prospects in the company.” Everything this guy says gets more and more suspicious. Every time Beck thought that it couldn't get worse, it did.

“Immediately, sir?” Mr. Kerr sounded concerned, feeling unsure and hesitant. He didn't want to argue, but something was telling him the chances this would work out well were low. “I usually have more time to fully bring people into the fold.”

“We are in the endgame, Bill.” The only one who ever referred to Kerr by that name was Sharper. The only man who knew his true identity used a nickname for a fake name. A fake of a fake. “After your failures with Dr. Prescott, I can't afford to take any risks.”

The emphasis put on the word “failures” felt like a punch in the gut to Kerr. Fully obedient and submissive to Sharper, he was determined to never let anything like that happen ever again. It was a fault of his to allow it to happen in the first place, a permanent stain on his image; a stain on his image to the man who had promised him everything he wanted, no, needed, of all people. “Of course, sir. No loose ends, sir. Once she finishes the work, she will either leave the office completely committed to Perennial harvest…”

Beck held her breath.

“...Or she won't leave at all.”

She felt lightheaded. Blood drained from her face, causing a chill.

“Perfect.” There was a distinct satisfaction in Sharper's voice. Every conversation was like a competition to him, and he had won this one; just as he always did.

Before Sharper could hang up, Kerr timidly offered a proposition that he had been waiting to give. “Sir, if I might suggest,” He swallowed and took a quiet deep breath, trembling slightly. “Maybe we should delay. Just for a bit.”

“Oh?” Sharper did not sound enthused.

Kerr felt a sudden surge of dread and regret overwhelming him, but his mouth kept running. It was too late to back down now.

“It's just… we seem to be rushing to hit this festival deadline, and rushing into some things has caused some…” He was cautious with his next choice of words, making sure he wouldn't make any remarks that could be interpreted as an insult. “... issues in the past.”

Whenever Kerr spoke to Sharper, he felt as if he was tip-toeing around landmines. Anything could set him off; the threat of consequences always loomed over the subservient fraud.

“I see…”

Kerr winced, knowing it was too late to take back his request. In a pleading voice, he added, “Please understand that I just want what's best for you. I'm eternally grateful for all that you've done for me.”

“Bill, I'll make this very clear for you.” His words felt like weights being dropped. Disapproval was drenched in his voice. “I brought you in to make things run smoothly, not to have opinions.”

“Of course, sir.”

His reply to his boss must have sounded more defeated than he intended it to, because he responded with an unusually encouraging reassurance. “Chin up, Bill. You are only a few days away from having everything you've ever dreamed of.”

Drained from the emotional rollercoaster of speaking with Sharper, Kerr finished off with a “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

[daphwritesworld]

DAPH'S MASTERLIST

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ARSENAL W.F.C

#23 A. Russo 

Series: coming soon…

fics:

digital bath. 18+

You drunkenly claim that Alessia is a bottom to the team…she shows you & them just how bad you’re lying through your teeth. 

all to you. 18+, fluff

After spending two months away in the States with your family– you’re finally flying back home to England. To your Alessia. 

blurbs:

Alessia waking up from a wet dream of you, her teammate…it gets a little raunchy from there 👀 18+

Needy!Alessia taking the strap in the car 18+

Dom!Alessia teaching Rival!Reader a lesson in respect. 18+

You push yourself too hard your first game back on the pitch. It’s a good thing you’ve got two extra worried girlfriends to remind you to properly rest ft. Le 18+

#6 L. Williamson

Series: 

be my baby. 18+, fluff …in progress!

You’re an Athletic Trainer hired by Arsenal to attend practices and games. The captain seems to lose all ability to communicate properly around you. Some would even go as far as to say she’s purposely tripping just to have you run out to check on her to see that little worried look on your face. 

fics:

BeFoUr. ft— Le PART ONE 18+

You've always been a perfect submissive for your girlfriend…but what happens when you decide to break that good girl persona she's grown so accustomed to? And what happens when you enroll her best friend to help you? Lord help you, girl.

blurbs:

You push yourself too hard your first game back on the pitch. It’s a good thing you’ve got two extra worried girlfriends to remind you to properly rest ft. Less 18+

#11 K. McCabe

series: coming soon…

fics:

LUNCH. 18+, fluff

A much needed rest day has finally come for you and your girlfriend. She's got everything planned out for you both, from a secret appointment, to a movie date, and treating you to a nice lunch on the beach.

CHELSEA F.C.WOMEN

#22 L. Bronze

series: coming soon…

fics: coming soon…

#21 N. Charles

series: coming soon…

fics: coming soon…

#20 S. Kerr

series: coming soon…

fics: coming soon…

FC BARCELONA 

#11 A. Putellas

series: 

american wedding. 18+, fluff, agnst …coming soon!

 You wake up in Vegas with a rock on your finger and in bed with Alexia…the girl who made you swear this was all no strings attached. Now she’s calling you Mrs. Putellas, moving you into her house, but pretending you don’t know each other in public. What could possibly go wrong, right? 

fics: coming soon…

#23 I. Engen

series: coming soon…

fics: coming soon…

#4 M. León

series: coming soon…

fics: coming soon…

∘₊✧ extra people i write for ✧₊∘

Other footballers:

#23 Kyra Cooney- Cross

#7 Ella Toone

blurbs:

Ella ignores you during practice so you show her how you feel about it in the locker room 18+

#21 Keira Walsh

fics:

BeFoUr. ft— Le PART ONE 18+

You've always been a perfect submissive for your girlfriend…but what happens when you decide to break that good girl persona she's grown so accustomed to? And what happens when you enroll her best friend to help you? Lord help you, girl.

WNBA/NCAA WOMEN’S 🏀:

#5 Paige Bueckers

#1 Nika Mühl

MY EDITS 📸:

The Never Ending Cycle Of Success— Alexia Putellas

Women’s Achievements Can Never Go Celebrated Without The Criticism Of Men.

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[sunsetkerr]

TELLING THE TEAM | s.kerr the sweet nora universe, masterlist

summary: you and sam decide that it's finally time to tell the girls about your big news.

pairing: mum!sam kerr x fem!reader

notes: love love love this one

august 2019, 3 months pregnant

"Y/N, HAVE YOU SEEN my boots?!"

you tried to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at sam before calling back to her, "which ones?".

"my mercurials!"

"which ones?!" you yelled back, knowing she had over five pairs of mercurials.

"the pink ones!" you held back a groan, knowing exactly where she had left them.

"they're under the bench!"

"where?!" sam's footsteps grew closer as she began to stomp down the stairs of your brisbane apartment. sam came into the living room, watching as you rounded around the kitchen counter, kicking out her black mesh training bag.

"they're still here, in yesterday's training bag" you kicked the bag over to her. sam had a bad habit of leaving her things laying around and then forgetting where everything was. you had a good habit of finding them all for her.

"i was looking for that" sam raised her eyebrows as she picked up the bag.

"mhm" you hummed, going back into the kitchen to finish getting breakfast.

"you're the best" sam stopped you in your tracks, snaking her arms around your waist. she rested her hands on your tiny bump that had began to form. "how are you feeling?" she asked, kissing you on the cheek before leaning her chin on your shoulder.

"better," you nodded. "tired still" a sigh escaped your lips, recalling your sleepless night. were you too hot? too cold? you couldn't decide. sam just so happened to sleep through the entire ordeal. 

"we'll have an early night," she drew circles on your bump with her thumb, giving you another kiss. "i'll be home around two?" she looked to you for confirmation that the times worked for you. if, in a hypothetical world, they didn't; you knew she would be home whenever you needed her. 

"okay," you nodded, leaning back into her embrace. "have fun, good luck" you whispered, turning your head to kiss her cheek before she left for practice. 

"oh babe," sam pulled back a little so she could see you properly. "i think.." she lead, "i think i wanna tell the girls".

you blinked a few times, processing what she had said. "really?" you asked her, your eyebrows raised. 

"yeah," sam looked down at your belly, drinking in your new glow. "can't hide her forever" she smirked softly before meeting your gaze again. 

"when do you wanna tell them?" you asked, still a little taken back that 'mrs. lets keep it to ourselves for a bit longer' wanted to tell her teammates. 

"today?" she shrugged, "did you wanna come to prac? i'll set you up in the shade" sam suggested.

you shook your head straight away, "i dont wanna barge in on practice, sam" you told her.

"you're not!" she argued, "they love you".

"i don't want to annoy anyone" you gently pulled yourself from her grasp and went to walk back into the kitchen.

"i want you to be there when we tell them" sam followed you, propping herself up on the counter that you needed to get into. she forced you to look at her, stopping you from getting a bowl for breakfast. "please?" she leant forwards and grabbed your hands in hers, engulfing them in a tight grasp.

you sighed, closing your eyes. "fine" you huffed, "now move" you waved her away, you were verging on hangry.

"thank you" sam smiled, pushing herself off of the counter. she grabbed your hand and pulled you along and away from your cupboard, away from your cereal. "come on, i'm late" she scooped your bag and her training bag off of the bench and hiked her duffle bag on her shoulder, leading you to the front door. 

"my cereal!" you whined.

"shh" she kissed your cheek a few times, quieting you down. "i'll get you breakfast on the way. i'm running late" she chuckled, locking the door behind you both.

"you.. late? really?" you looked back at her as she rushed you towards the car. "no!" you exclaimed, a faux look of shock on your face as you got into the passenger seat of sam's car.

"shut up" she deadpanned before closing your door on you.

the drive wasn't too far, brisbane traffic was kind to you this morning. as you pulled into the car park you saw alanna getting out of her car as well. sam called out to her as she pulled her duffle bag from the back seat.

alanna turned around and you were met with a big grin as she realised that sam had you in tow. "what are you doing here, missy?" she grinned, pulling you in for a hug. you tried to keep your belly off of her as much as possible without being too obvious, not needing your tiny bump to press against her and give it away.

"i'm in my rookie season" you chuckled.

"oh yeah, course" alanna laughed as if it was obvious. "silly me," she scoffed.

"sam dragged me out," you walked with alanna, her arm now interlocked with yours.

"sounds like her" 

"right here" sam piped up, reminding you both of her presence. 

"we know" alanna shrugged, giving her a look with a scrunched up file and a sarcastic smile.

"i'll bench you," sam raised her eyebrows at her.

"then how will we win games?" alanna looked from her captain to you, a confused look painted her face. you let sam and alanna talk about football while you all made your ways to the change room. 

"y/n!" emily smiled as she watched you walk in with sam and alanna. she made her way over to you and pulled you in for a hug. 

"hi," you smiled, giving her a tight squeeze. "how are you?" you asked as you pulled away to look at her.

"good," she smiled, "what are you doing here?".

"i-"

"new recruit," sam cut you off, draping her arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close. emily chuckled and spoke with you about how you had been. it was only a few minutes before ante came into the room.

"alright girls," he clapped his hands as he walked into the change rooms, grabbing everyone's attention. "hi y/n," he quickly shot you a smile as he walked into the centre of the room. "we've got some new drills we want to run today for the midfield, and then i want to run a strategy session" he explained, the coaching staff trailing in behind him. "y/n, you can help me yell at them if they run too slow" he pointed over at you with a small smile on his lips.

"perfect," you nodded, arms crossed over your chest.

"she's good at yelling at me" sam looked at you, a few of the girls laughing at her comment.

"oh, whatever" you rolled your eyes, shaking her off with a smile.

"alright, let's get out there" ante held his thumbs up before heading out, "sunscreen on! it's hot" he called out.

"c'mon, i'll find you a spot" sam put you back under her arm, now a little bit taller with her boots on. "we'll tell 'em after" she whispered in your ear. you all made your way out onto the field and you silently thanked yourself for wearing sneakers this morning so you didn't ruin the turf.

"how are you, y/n?" ante asked as you and sam made your way out.

"good, ante. how are you?" you smiled at him as sam walked off with caitlin. 

"great," he grinned, "joining us today for prac, hey?"

"i've been dragged out, yes" you nodded, chuckling softly.

"it's always good to have you around," he gave you a light pat on the back before heading off to speak with some of the coaching staff.

"y/n!" sam waved you over to the player's bench. you walked over and met her where she had set up a spot for you. "have you got your water?" she asked.

"yep" you nodded, grabbing it from your bag.

"here," sam crouched down in front of you and opened the bottle of sunscreen that the team would use today. "put this on, then i'll take it over to the girls" she told you, squeezing some out into your hand.

"sam-" you went to argue.

"i'm literally not kidding" she looked up at you, not a glint of a joke in her gaze. you rolled your eyes before rubbing in into your face and neck. "ears!" she reminded you grumpily. you chuckled, shaking your head at her. "don't shake your head at me" she gave your leg a little shove. 

"happy?" you asked her, your face oily from the sunscreen.

"very," she stood up, giving your thigh a squeeze beforehand. "i'll see you after, try not to stare at me too much" she playfully tapped your knee with the sunscreen before walking off to meet the girls.

"mm, i'll try" you chuckled, "have fun".

"love you" she called out to you. "sunscreen?! does anyone want some sunscreen?" she shouted as she met up with the girls.

"skip!" katrina called out. sam walked over to her, reaching out to pass her the bottle. "c'mere" kat waved her away from the others, isolating themselves from the bigger group.

"what?" sam lowered her voice.

sam watched as katrina struggled with her internal voice for a moment. "did you.." she sighed, trying to phrase what she wanted to say the right way. "is-" she cut herself off again, before committing to her words. "is y/n pregnant?"

sam's jaw dropped, and she looked around to see if anyone heard what katrina had said. "wha-" she looked back at katrina, "shh.. how did you know?"

she crossed her arms over her chest, and looked up at her young captain with raised eyebrows. "the last time you brought her to training, you told us you were engaged" she reminded you. sam nodded slowly, realising that he had been right.

sam bit her lip before admitting the truth to her teammate. “she's only a month or so along" she whispered, hoping no one was taking notice of their meeting.

"sam! that's amazing" katrina tried her best to contain her excitement. "congratulations! awe i wanna hug you," she knew how important this was to you both. having been the first person to be told that you were going through rounds of ivf, mini had been waiting for this day to come. "i'll keep it on the down-low" she promised.

"thanks min," sam whispered, letting a smile break through finally. she often had moments like this. where it actually hit her.. she was going to have a baby with you.

"i'm so happy for you" kat whispered again.

"sam, katrina!" ante called out, "eyes up!"

training flew by for sam and the girls. not so much for you, who had been sitting in the hot sun. the cool breeze that would come past every few minutes and your water bottle were your only relief. 

"shit, it's hot" caitlin sighed, grabbing her water bottle from the cart. the girls began to gather around the bottle-carts, getting a drink after their drills. 

"i'm dying here" macca agreed, taking off her keeping gloves.

"bring it in girls!" sam clapped. she gathered the girls over by the playing bench where you were sitting, granting them all a moment of solace in the shade. "obviously, i know it's going to be a busy few months. we've got a world cup to go win, i know lots of you have commitments to other clubs too, so i just want to tell you that if you are struggling, make sure you come have a chat with me or with ante. i don't want anyone to feel like they can't come forward if they're not one-hundred percent, okay?"

the girls nodded as sam spoke, listening to what their captain was saying to them. "especially because next year i'll be a little preoccupied so i want you to talk to me now as much as you can" 

a few heads shot up. confused looked were shared between the girls.

but it was alanna that spoke up, "what?".

"because when y/n has the baby next january i might be a little busy" sam nodded, a smile breaking through her neutral exterior. 

"oh my god!" 

"are you fucking kidding?"

you and sam watched as the girls let the news set in. ellie had already ran over to you and engulfed you in a tight embrace. "holy shit! y/n!" she grinned, holding you tight. you laughed at her as other girls came over to say congratulations to you.

"thanks girls" you chuckled, leaning your head on ellie who still had a strong hold you on.

"i knew she wouldn't drag you out for nothing!" lydia smiled, giving sam a little shove.

"she didn't even wanna come!" sam yelled, throwing you under the bus.

"y/n! that’s low" clare held her hands up in the air, looking over at you now.

"she's a liar," you smirked, meeting clare's gaze.

"i can't believe it!" tameka brought sam in for a hug. "congrats guys" she looked back over to you afterwards.

"we're gonna have a baby!" alanna cheered, clapping her hands as mackenzie hugged her.

"i'm gonna be an aunty!" macca exclaimed.

"the kid's gonna have like twenty aunties" sam laughed, earning a few chuckles from the others.

"we’ll, i'll be her favourite so i don't mind" alanna shrugged, earning a glare from mackenzie.

as you looked around you realised how lucky your baby would be, because sam was right; they had twenty plus aunties ready to love them as soon as they was here.

[howlingmoonradio]

November 2nd Playlist

This week's episode was inspired in part by the music that was featured on the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, which ended its 5 season run earlier this year, classic American song book stuff, that some of you might connect to a better time in the world. Timeless music regardless of your age. We also played a random selection of stuff on the flipside, recent stuff from Lyle Lovett, up and coming jazz star Samara Joy, the latest from Steep Canyon Rangers..as we said RANDOM.

Side A

Howling at the Moon-Hank Williams

It’s Only a Paper Moon-Nat King Cole Trio

Nice Work-Doris Day

Mairzy Doats-Pied Pipers

Oh Look at Me Now-Frank Sinatra

I’d Cry Like a Baby-Dean Martin

Nevertheless I’m in Love-Mills Brothers

Just Leave Everything to Me-Barbara Streisand

Shall We Dance-Deborah Kerr, Yul Brynner

Side B

Cooking at the Continental-Lyle Lovett

Pants is Overrated-Lyle Lovett

Sweet Pumpkin-Samara Joy

50 Miles of Elbow Room-Iris Dement

Mountains and Mesas- Michaela Anne

Above My Burdens-Steep Canyon Rangers

I Play My Bass Loud-Gina Burch

No One Knows We’re Dancing-EBTG

[victorianpining]

I wanted you to know that I haven't stopped thinking about From A Drop of Water since I found and read it last week. It is a masterpiece. I've also devoured your Great Heart essay and the first four episodes of Better Story. Thank you for writing and making them. I was a fan on the outskirts when everything went down, and context is everything.

Thanks to all that, my brain sent me a dream last night of a slightly reworked version of the final confrontation in FADOW... the dream had it occurring at the Roland Kerr college of S1E01. Hope you don't mind but um, here's what the dream had... (oh btw, all the dream said of the earlier parts of the series was the birth of baby Watson, followed by Mary disappearing (back to Moriarty.)) Warning, very... stream of conscious writing ahead.

Moriarty has been baiting Sherlock with texts and other things, but Sherlock has ignored them because he knows Moriarty wants John dead and Sherlock as his prize.

But the strain is wearing on him, and John notices, worries. Though he grapples with his feelings and doesn’t say anything, thinking Sherlock would dismiss his concerns as fussing.

Then Moriarty gets Mary to text John in a calculated move. After some back and forth (possibly over the phone, instead of text?), Mary baits the trap, suggesting John offer himself in Sherlock’s place (or rather, leads John to suggest it).

“There is another option, you know…”

Perhaps she suggests taking Moriarty down together, and tries to sweet-talk him…

But in the end, that’s not what causes John to decide (though the audience might think so at first).

John hands himself over and Mary says: “I knew you’d see sense eventually” with a smile, then leads him to Moriarty (she hopes she’ll get to keep him, after).

Meanwhile, John’s written Sherlock a letter, asking him to take care of little Watson… and revealed his mental state, and a vague outline of his plan.

Some sort of confessional thing. Though it stops short of saying the final confession (love).

It’s enough for Sherlock to realise things are Dire, and he wants to rush off and find John (ooh, perhaps Mary sent a timed text, some sort of ‘save John Watson’ thing?).

Yet there is baby Watson to consider, and John’s entrusting her to Sherlock’s care… he tries to leave and hail a cab to take them to Molly’s, but the streets are eerily quiet.

Then Mrs H arrives back from bridge earlier than expected, having had to walk the last part due to traffic blockages… entrances to Baker St have been cordoned off, and she feared the worst.

(Mycroft, being “helpful” – to John. Prioritising Sherlock’s safety.)

Sherlock summarises the situation to Mrs Hudson, then gives her baby W in exchange for the keys to Mrs H’s car.

“Get inside and stay there, stay away from windows. … if I’m not back with John in an hour, call Lestrade and tell him to make with all haste to Roland-Kerr Further Education College!”

Sherlock goes to be the hero and save John for a third time… back where it all began, at the old college where John shot Jeff Hope for Sherlock.

John nearly sacrifices himself to blow up a Semtex-clad Moriarty or something (a la Drop of Water)… shooting Moriarty with his gun would do it.

But he hesitates too long, and then Moriarty stops him by telling him Sherlock’s arrived and Mary’s got her sights on him

A role reversal scene of The Fall … and Moriarty’s first mistake is reminding John of that

This helps John start putting the pieces together, and he makes a speech of his own… the reason John decided to walk into the apparent trap wasn’t because of Mary, he couldn’t care less about her now.

No, it was his thoughts on Sherlock sacrificing himself for John countless times over the years – most notably The Fall and Magnussen’s shooting – that did it. He did it for Sherlock… just like at The Pool, five years ago.

Moriarty laughs, and makes his second mistake, reminding John that if John had been faster, and Sherlock had run off and left John that night, all of this could have been avoided by John and JM’s deaths. “But he never seems to be able to leave you alone for long, does he, Johnny? And tonight, you’ve signed his death warrant.”

Sherlock is led in by Mary during this speech and he and John stand together against Moriarty… the confrontation forcing John to put the growing revelation on hold.

But still, it’s impossible for anyone not to notice that John and Sherlock are able to communicate with just a handful of glances… “you okay?” “yes… baby okay?” “safe” “why’d you come here, I was trying to stop you having to”

“we’re stronger together” Sherlock says aloud.

Soon, Mary realises that Moriarty was never going to let her have John, and Moriarty kills her with a bullet through her forehead before she can become a liability.

The whole ‘burning heart’ thing happens – Moriarty cuts John’s chest with a knife/ dagger that’s been “sterilised” (as JM puts it) in fire (it’s still white-hot)…

Sherlock screams John’s name when this happens, and John looks over and finally starts observing.

Then John realises… he wants to live. (Not just because of the potential of Sherlock, not just for baby W, but for himself.) He finally stops blaming himself for things that weren’t his fault and decides to live.

Of course, that means getting rid of Moriarty first…

idk how, because he’s wearing Semtex, so how do John and Sherlock escape when there's no water to absorb an explosion?

After, there’s the “John? Say you’re not hurt!” moment.

The final confirmation… and John knows.

Which would, of course, lead to a love confession… back in Baker Street.

Thank you so much for sharing this with me! I hope you don't mind me posting it too. I'm so fascinated by the bits of my version your dream kept AND the ways you took those details as a springboard for a new scenario. Great job to your subconscious, very symbolically resonate detailing here, all very in character, I love it.

[13uswntimagines]

Our Song (Alyssa Naeher x Reader)

Request: alyssa naehex reader thats set during quarantine w/ “Shy” by Alexander Stewart. I just kind of think it’s cute since she’s an introvert and that it would be fitting

Author’s Note: Speical Thanks To @literaryhedgehog​

Alyssa knew she should just say it, that admitting it out loud would finally put an end to this madness. She ran a soothing hand through your hair when you sniffled loudly into her chest. 

God, she should just tell you how she felt. But, she also didn’t want to overstep. That would make being roommates really awkward. Especially since neither of you were supposed to leave the apartment right now except for essential purchases. And she didn’t want to lose her best friend. That would really suck. 

But she wasn’t afraid to say what no one else would- you had a terrible taste when it came to partners. You chose people who didn’t value you, and you always ended up hurt. 

This time was no different, well, it was slightly different considering you couldn’t leave your shared apartment to cope like you normally would. Alyssa didn’t know if that was better or worse, considering that you had adapted your breakup routine to just be endless cuddles with her and your favorite stuffed animal.  

She had already spent the last hour making comforting noises. You had stopped shedding tears 15 minutes ago, so Alyssa decided it was time to go for some humor. “Hey, so now you and Taylor Swift have something in common!”

“Hmm” You hummed in acknowledgment, your eyes never leaving where Supergirl was playing on screen. 

“Well, she was broken up with over text. You were broken up with over text. I think this is the perfect opportunity to listen to her re-recording of Fearless, and really channel those emotions!”

“No, Joe broke up with her in a 27-second phone call,” You lifted your head up off of her very comfortable chest to raise your eyebrow at the woman. 

Alyssa was a great keeper, and amazing at crosswords, but she always needed your help when it came to Taylor trivia. 

“Then Joe showed more consideration as an 18-year-old child than your 32 year old wanna be soccer star. It doesn’t change the fact that I think listening to Mr Perfectly Fine would be cathartic.” 

“It’s kinda funny that she wrote Forever and Always, Mr. Perfectly fine, Better than Revenge and Holy Ground all about the same guy, they’re all so different from each other,” You mumbled, settling back down on her chest. At least she didn’t say that you had as many breakups as she did. That was a rude joke. (One Alyssa wouldn’t dare make. She was more cultured than the media asshats that chased your team around). 

“Woman’s efficient,” Alyssa shrugged. “No reason why you can't recycle the same emotion into a different song genre.” 

“At least she could make millions off her pain. All I seem to be able to do is kick the ball harder,” You grumbled. Your landlord complained about you practicing in the street because of how hard you sent the ball careening into his precious brick wall. It wasn’t your fault Alyssa was too slow to stop the PK. 

“Darling, considering you’re one of the strongest kickers on the east coast, I’d say that pain is going to a worthwhile cause. But you do kind of have the worst taste in relationships.” 

“Hey! Savannah wasn’t a bad choice, just bad timing,” You huffed indignantly. 

“So that would be one out of…. How many bad relationships?” 

“At least one for every Taylor Swift album,” 

“Okay, here’s a fun idea, choose an ex for each album,” Alyssa said brightly. Thinking about music would definitely cheer you up. “Wannabe soccer star is obviously your Joe, so represents the Fearless album. Which relationship is your… Drew?”

“You already know the answer to that question,” you said, already picking up your phone to add Teardrops on my Guitar to the music queue. You then quickly added Forever and Always and started scrolling through Speak Now for the next song inspiration. 

Alyssa nodded. It was a well-known fact that you had a massive crush on one Hope Solo growing up, and you had been absolutely enamored with her the second you set foot into camp. But Alyssa also knew that Hope was very faithful to a certain veteran. 

The veteran keeper had tried to let you down easy, and Kelley was still one of your best friends, but it had hurt in the moment.

“Kristie was my Haunted,” you said, smiling slightly. Dating her felt like a whirlwind, one that took your breath until you never thought it would end. She made butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you were so desperate to say the right thing, to be the perfect partner, that you always felt like you were walking a tightrope. Floating on air, but desperate to keep your balance. “At least she had the decency to wait until we were in the same city to end it.” 

“Aren’t the two of you friends now?” Alyssa looked down at you, watching as you scrolled through songs from your comfortable place on her chest. 

You nodded with a small smile. “Hmm, we are much better off that way anyway.” 

“I bet you I can guess who your We are Never Ever Getting Back Together person is,” Alyssa trilled, reaching down to take the phone. 

You playfully snatched it away from her. “Who’s to say I wasn’t going to choose I knew you were trouble?” You raised your eyebrow at the woman, who simply smirked in response. 

“I can tell you who that is too if you like,” Alyssa reached for her own phone and took over control of the speakers, adding both songs to the music queue. 

“Alright, I’ll bite. Who?” 

“You definitely knew Sam Kerr was trouble, and I think it took you 4 breakups with Leah to finally call it quits,” 

“I was going to say Leah for 1989, it took me forever to realize how fucked up our relationship was after we finally broke up,” 

“I’m sure the distance didn’t help.” With her in London and you in Chicago things just kind of fell apart. 

“Maybe,” you hummed, noncommittally. 

“Okay, so for Reputation. I’m thinking Don’t Blame Me,” 

“You did go a bit crazy for Jane…” Alyssa said with a roll of her eyes. You had almost moved to Houston for that girl, thank god you didn’t. You sunburned like nobody's business. 

“Oh come on. You just didn’t like the idea of me moving. And considering how long we had been dating at that point it did make sense!” You argued. 

“It was 3 months Y/n,” She deadpanned. 

“I was in a wlw relationship. That’s like practically three years, it’s not like I brought a u-haul to our first date.” 

Alyssa quirked an eyebrow up at you. “Didn’t you have one of those the first time we met?” 

“Yeah, because I wasn’t moving into my college apartment without any furniture!”

“Whatever you say, babe. Who's your Folklore?” She rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. 

“I think you skipped an album,” you said. This was weird because Lover was one of Alyssa’s favorite albums. “But, since you asked. I think Kelley is The 1.” 

“Ah, our favorite squirrel,” Alyssa’s lips ticked up. You and Kelley had dated in college (something that should have made her jealous), but Kelley was the one pushing her to admit her feelings now. 

“We were just too young and dumb,” you said, smiling. “We had a great time together, and it would have been fun if it worked out. But at some point we just realized, we were friends, but there wasn’t anything romantic there.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Alyssa said, like a liar. 

“I’m not. Her and Emily are like made for each other,” You snorted with the shake of your head. “And at least she wasn’t afraid of the world knowing we were together,” 

“Well, yeah,” Alyssa smiled. She had loved seeing the way being publicly out with Kelley had brought out the best of you. “ Okay moving on! Next, we need to narrow down your No body, No Crime.” 

“I take offense. Alex is still alive, so that doesn’t count,” You huffed. 

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding. I know you didn’t kill any of your significant others,” Alyssa said, laughing. “Though if you listened to the song you would know that’s my job… ”

“Alex was my Champagne Problems,” You mumbled sadly. That relationship had been the hardest for you, as had the breakup. She was terrified of the world even suspecting she wasn’t straight. 

You had everything, except the freedom to be yourself, and In the end, you couldn’t take the hiding anymore. 

“You did your best, love. But people come out at their own pace. And it was before Obergfell v. Hodges was decided. Being queer was still more likely to be presented as a scandal in the media then.”

“She cheated on me with Serv. She doesn’t get a pass,” You grumbled, crossing your arms. 

“I’m pretty sure you were on a break dear,” Alyssa said, though she was inclined to agree with you. Being on a ‘break’ but not officially breaking up didn’t seem like a reason to start dating other people. Still getting over some of the semantics might theoretically help you move on. “BUT maybe we should move on. Who is your Lover?”

Your eyes squinted thoughtfully, a light pink shading your cheeks. “The only person who hasn’t ever left me is you. You let me leave the Christmas lights up until May and dance around the kitchen when you cook.” 

Alyssa looked away, not able to meet your eyes. ”I mean, the lights can change color, so they can be thematic all year. And you’re the one who chooses the music to listen to while I cook. I can’t help it if they’re all great for dancing.”

“You can dance to anything. I’m pretty sure you turned a Hosier song into a salsa dance last week.” You giggled. 

“The only person I dance with is you, Y/n,” Alyssa said, finally meeting your eyes. She could feel her body start shaking slightly, as the adrenaline kicked in. She was going to do it. She was going to tell you. “I don’t want to dance if I’m not dancing with you.” 

“I’d dance with you in a storm in my best dress,” 

“I have tried so hard to be supportive about your last several relationships. But seeing you dancing to your favorite song with anyone else… I’ve loved you for three years now and I couldn’t bear it.” 

The air was suddenly charged between you, and you realized your faces were just inches apart. It was hard to breathe. You never dreamed your best friend would return your feelings (maybe that’s why you had so many bad relationships). 

“Kiss me,” you breathed, slowly moving around so your heads were at the same level. 

“That’s not a Taylor swift Lyric,” Alyssa said. In her brain, there was a loading sign currently whirring in little circles, as she attempted to process what you just said. Did you mean what she thought you said?

“Baby just say yes,” You said, feeling so happy that tears were coming to your eyes. You leaned forward getting inches from her face, so close you could feel her breath hitch. “Please kiss me.”

“Yes,” was all Alyssa had time to say before she closed the distance and kissed you. 

[possiblyimbiassed]

Ships and Cars - The Sign of Code

There have been lots of discussions about code in BBC Sherlock, and the possible metaphorical meaning of different things that appear frequently in the show, such as coffee/tea, water/fire, dogs/cats and many more. This show indeed seems filled with ciphers, code and secret messages. In this meta (X) I tried to decipher the encrypted name of the fishing boat that Sherlock and John hijacked in TFP, when it was called upon from Sherrinford: “Golf-Whisky-X-ray”. 

The Ship coding

At first I thought this was referring to the international spelling alphabet for wireless communication (X, X) where there’s a word for each letter. “GWX” didn’t make much sense to me, though, until I stumbled upon something deeper: ‘Golf’, ‘Whisky’ and ‘X-ray’ are also part of the marine Code of Signals (X) that was established in Britain around 1850. It’s still used by water vessels to communicate important messages regarding safety of navigation and such, and the signals can be sent by, for example, flaghoist, signal lamp or flag semaphore. Conan Doyle worked on a ship at least in 1880 and 1881, so the signals could totally have been known to him already in Victorian times. And since Sherlock and John are on board a boat in TFP, 

I think it’s reasonable to assume that the marine code is the relevant one here. In this signal code, the flags for “Golf”, Whisky” and “Xray” mean the following:

Golf = “I require a pilot.” 

Whiskey = “I require medical assistance.”

”Xray = “Stop carrying out your intentions and watch for my signals.”

Which in other words could be read as:

I need a pilot (a maritime pilot to help me navigate)

I need a doctor

Pay attention to code

But is this use of marine signals something that only appears in BBC Sherlock? Is it Mofftiss’ own idea to use them, or could there possibly be any canon references to them? In the discussion that followed my meta (X)  @frailtyofgenius​ pointed out to me that ACD’s canon actually does mention “Naval signals” in His Last Bow (LAST), which I think might be very significant. And the one who uses the naval signals is Holmes himself.

Continued under the cut, because this is reeeally a long ‘transport’... ;)

So I took to read LAST and realized that there are several ’naval’ references (my bolding) in this story by Conan Doyle. In the beginning, as a romantic landscape framework, we’re told about the surroundings of the German spy Von Bork’s house:

Above, the stars were shining brightly, and below, the lights of the shipping glimmered in the bay.

LAST takes place on the English east cost, near the port of Harwich. The spy Von Bork is chatting with Baron Von Herling, a German diplomat, bragging about the intelligence he’s gathered for his country, and then he shows the Baron the contents of his safe:

And all in four years, Baron. Not such a bad show for the hard-drinking, hard-riding country squire. But the gem of my collection is coming and there is the setting all ready for it.” He pointed to a space over which “Naval Signals” was printed.

But apparently the naval authorities have changed the code: 

“But you have a good dossier there already.” “Out of date and waste paper. The Admiralty in some way got the alarm and every code has been changed.”

So Holmes, posing as the Irish-American spy Altamont, is supposed to bring new ones. I think the real ‘feature of interest’ in this story, however, is the coding that Holmes/Altamont uses in his telegram to the German spy:

“Will come without fail to-night and bring new sparking plugs. ALTAMONT.”

And the conversation between Van Bork and the Baron continues:

“Sparking plugs, eh?” “You see he poses as a motor expert and I keep a full garage. In our code everything likely to come up is named after some spare part. If he talks of a radiator it is a battleship, of an oil pump a cruiser, and so on. Sparking plugs are naval signals.”

So here in ACD canon we’re explicitly told that the spark plugs, the ignition of the car’s engine (which generates an explosion in the engine’s combustion chamber) actually represents code - marine code. And other car references, according to Van Bork, are also marine code. I can’t help wondering if water was actually meant to represent emotions already in canon? ACD canon is packed with references to water: sea, coast, lakes, ponds, rivers and waterfalls but also ships, steamers, boats, submarines and such. Some of the criminals in canon are seamen and the navy is mentioned in some cases. And in two stories (NAVA and BRUC) the ‘naval’ issues contain secrets of national importance. 

I’d love to try to analyse all the water and boat references in ACD canon and see if/how they tie into emotions, but that’s for another meta. :) But what if something similar is done in BBC Sherlock; what if Mofftiss have used not only canon’s water metaphors for emotions but also the same general secret cipher as Holmes used in LAST? But maybe Mofftiss also took the cipher one step further, interpreting anything car-related not as general metaphors for emotions, but specifically as code for sexuality.

In TFP there’s a great explosion at 221B, and next thing we know, Sherlock and John are aboard a fishing boat, which is called upon with naval signals. But there’s actually very few ships in BBC Sherlock (while canon, as mentioned, is full of them); the fishing boat in TFP is one of very few boats in the show. As for seamen, there’s also very few in the show. Except for the fishing father and son in TFP, there’a also Sherlock’s deductions about the unemployed fisherman and his mother in THoB. @sagestreet​ has written an excellent meta suggesting a significant symbolic meaning of ‘fishing’ in this case (X).

In this self-censored post on John’s blog, however, there’s a cruiser mentioned in the title: Tilly Briggs Cruise of Terror. But we never get to know anything about this case; the post is taken down entirely since, according to John, “the ship’s owners are launching an appeal”. 

Why is this post even there, if no one is allowed to read it? Every other blog post from John has some kind of content in it - at least since he met Sherlock. But this one only has a title (and a teaser in the post before: “I'm going to tell you about a couple of the smaller cases we've been involved in. What really happened on the Tilly Briggs pleasure cruise.” (X))  

So the supposed ‘pleasure cruise’ was turned into a ‘cruise of terror’ and then deleted. Maybe it’s just me, but I strongly suspect this is a clue from the show makers telling us that a certain ‘ship’ is not allowed in BBC Sherlock, for ‘legal’ reasons having to do with the ‘owners of the ship’ (ACD Estate). 

Actually, there’s more info than this about the ship even in ACD canon, although it’s scarce. In The Sussex Vampire (SUSS) “Matilda Briggs” is mentioned in a letter to Holmes from the company Morrison, Morrison, and Dodd: 

“As our firm specializes entirely upon the assessment of machinery the matter hardly comes within our purview, and we have therefore recommended Mr. Ferguson to call upon you and lay the matter before you. We have not forgotten your successful action in the case of Matilda Briggs.” 

After Watson has read it, Holmes explains to him (my bolding): 

“Matilda Briggs was not the name of a young woman, Watson,” said Holmes in a reminiscent voice. “It was a ship which is associated with the giant rat of Sumatra, a story for which the world is not yet prepared.” 

If this is an allusion to a possible relationship between Holmes and Watson, indeed the world would not have been ‘prepared’ in Victorian times, since homophobia was prevalent and same-sex couples illegal. 

Source: (X)

Directly after this, while perusing his lexicon for ‘Vampires’ (the actual topic of the letter), Holmes also mentions another ship that was associated with Victor Trevor’s father’s secret past as a mutinous convict:

“Voyage of the Gloria Scott,” he read. “That was a bad business. I have some recollection that you made a record of it, Watson, though I was unable to congratulate you upon the result.”

Indeed this voyage in GLOR was a ‘bad business’; it ended in mutiny and disaster. The ship Gloria Scott exploded and sunk in the Atlantic, and most of the crew and passengers died.

So, not many ships appear in BBC Sherlock. But instead, there’s plenty of cars in the show. What if all these car references actually somehow actually refer to a ship - a very particular ‘shipping’? ;)

The Cars

So, might these cars code for some hidden secrets? And/or is it possible to tie the car references to ’naval code’, as Holmes claims to do in LAST, assuming that naval = water = emotions but also sexuality? 

Returning to canon, please note that Holmes and Watson (both in disguise) arrive in a car to the scene of this story in LAST. This is one of the very few cars that appear in canon, since they weren’t yet very commonly in use by those times. Holmes’ and Watson’s car is modestly described as “a small car” and “a little Ford” (as opposed to Baron Von Herling’s car, which is a huge limo). But at the end of the story, Holmes says about the little Ford: “Start her up, Watson, for it’s time that we were on our way.” And there they go, happily together, with the criminal tied up in the back seat, heading for Scotland Yard. Sweet, isn’t it? :) This is the very last we see of Holmes and Watson in canon. (Unfortunately, I can’t find any illustration of it).

BBC Sherlock, however, is full of cars. So, if we apply this analogy to BBC Sherlock, what car references can we find that could be translated into marine (= emotional) terms? Well, the first thing that comes to mind is the cab, the taxi, which is Sherlock’s preferred means of transport. 

A taxi has a driver, which is the word that the little girl on the plane in TFP uses instead of ‘pilot’. But we don’t see any taxi boats in the show, do we? In the Unaired Pilot, however, the cabbie drives Sherlock home to Baker Street (not to Roland Kerr’s), and there he tries to ‘kill’ him. One could even assume he makes a kind of sexual innuendo when Sherlock is sprawled face-down on the floor and the cabbie says “I could do anything I wanted to you right now, Mr ’olmes.” 

As I explained in my other meta about marine code (X), a marine pilot is someone who leads a ship through dangerous waters. Mofftiss haven’t included any marine pilots in their show, but they do use aircraft pilots, even if they’re not labelled as such: 

But if ‘driver’ should be read as ‘pilot’, then Jeff Hope - a John mirror - in the Unaired Pilot, the ‘driver’ of the show, guides Sherlock home emotionally and sexually, doesn’t he? ;) 

But there’s more about the signals in LAST. This is what the counter-agent Sherlock ‘Altamont’ Holmes says when he arrives at Von Bork’s place:

“You can give me the glad hand to-night, mister,” he cried. “I’m bringing home the bacon at last.” “The signals?” “Same as I said in my cable. Every last one of them, semaphore, lamp code, Marconi – a copy, mind you, not the original. That was too dangerous.”

This seems very similar to Wikipedia’s explanation of the Marine Code of Signals, as I quoted above: apart from flag hoist, the signals can also be transmitted by, for example, flag semaphores, radio communication or signal lamps. We do have radio communication in TFP, when Sherrinford receives the message from the boat ‘golf-whisky-x-ray’. But are there any signal lamps in BBC Sherlock? Yes, in fact there are - and they’re tied to a car! 

A blinking, grinning Peugeot, no less, in THoB. And it’s definitely connected to sex, because that’s what’s happening inside. ;) Even if we’re lead to believe that this isn’t actually code, John does try (unsuccessfully) to decipher the blinking lights from this car as Morse signals and gets “U M Q R A”.

Apparently this code is not referring to the Marine Code of Signals. But @bug-catcher-in-viridian-forest​ has written an excellent meta (X) deciphering the possible code “UMQRA” as meaning “TORCH”, using the Ceasar cipher, which Sherlock refers to on his website (X) in combination with another cipher. In my opinion this does make a lot of sense. John does indeed use a torch to try to decipher this message, and there are also lots of other possible metaphorical meanings of ‘torch’ in the show. 

So I think it would still be wise to pay attention to code, wouldn’t it?

As for Holmes’ quote from LAST above, “a copy, mind you, not the original”, I’d interpret this at Holmes pointing out that these signals can be copied (’mirrored’?) and also that they can vary in type (I imagine that ‘Marconi’ stands for radio transmission (X)). All in all, these naval signals are of national importance in canon, just like the Bruce Partington Plans and the Naval Treaty. And these are all military top-secrets clearly connected to the British navy. At some point in LAST, believing he has won the spy game, the Baron says:“There may be other lights within the week, and the English coast a less tranquil place!” Seems like the East Wind is coming. ;)

But back to the marine codes and cars: in canon (LAST) the car references hide secrets of national importance, connected to Britain’s naval defense, and some of those secrets, in turn, are encrypted with naval signals. That’s double coding, right? Also: the navy defend British waters and water = emotions.

As for cars, there’s a lot more of them in the show, while canon has very few; cars weren’t in use during most of Holmes’ career. I think LAST is the first time that cars appear in ACD canon? And the spare parts that Holmes/Altamont talks about as code in LAST never actually appear in the story, only the Baron’s limo and Holmes’ little Ford, where Watson is the driver.

But in the modern show there’s plenty of cars, of course; they’re literally everywhere. Many people have long ago pointed out that cars represent transport metaphorically, which is how Sherlock views his bodily needs in the unaired Pilot. Which ties in well with the assumption above that cars also represents sexuality, which is related to emotions even if it’s not the same thing.

But let’s also try to decipher the car references with Holmes’s code in LAST in mind, shall we? Where can we find water and/or possible hints about emotions and/or sexuality?

Apart from the taxis, which run like a red thread through the episodes (ASiP, TBB, TGG, ASiB, TRF, HLV, TST), and the abundance of police cars and ambulances, I can think of the following:

Mycroft’s black governmental car which is used to kidnap John in ASiP (and other episodes).

If Mycroft represents Sherlock’s brain, this might be about Sherlock trying to examine and test John with his intellect, to get an idea of who John is and what to expect from him. But this task is driven by his car - bodily needs - and behind them there’s still emotions, if we apply Sherlock’s code in LAST.

The first hostage’s car in TGG, where she is wrapped up in semtex.

This woman is literally trapped inside her car and metaphorically trapped inside her bodily needs, which are threatening to explode (remember Holmes’ ’sparking plugs’ in LAST?) if Sherlock doesn’t solve the puzzle about Carl Powers. And in this screen cap she is literally juxtaposed to Sherlock:

So it seems like Sherlock is now trapped inside his ‘transport’, yes? Still driven by emotions rather than intellect. And he probably sees this as very dangerous.

The finding of The ’dead’ man’s car with (fake) blood in TGG.

This ill-treated transport device (John calls it ”an abandoned sports car” on his blog X) leeds to more cars - Janus cars - and it turns out that the driver - Ian Monkford - isn’t dead; he’s just on ’vacation’ in Colombia (with the real purpose of cashing in his life insurance money). Sherlock figures this puzzle out and the poor fellow wrapped in semtex can breathe out; he’s not going to explode, either physically or emotionally. And no-one is dead in this case, but the driver faked his own death to avoid exposure and get his ‘security’.

The car with a dead body in the boot in ASiB

Licence plate: PYO3 HYN. The dead man in this car was destined for Germany according to his tickets - another ‘vacation’? But he never reached there; his plane crashed but he wasn’t in it, because he was already dead - trapped in his transport a car. Now, this case seems intimately connected with Sherlock in the boot of Mrs Hudson’s Aston Martin in TLD (see below). Except that Sherlock was being transported alive in that boot, but this guy is dead.

The client’s back-firing old SAAB in ASiB

The client stops near a wetland area and a stream because of problems with his engine. The driver - a John mirror? - tries to fix his ‘engine’, but the old car just won’t start. Sherlock analyses this case in his (drugged) Mind Palace together with his libido Irene Adler.

People have pointed out long ago (sorry for not remembering who - was it LSiT?) that the back-firing SAAB engine in the hiker case in ASiB might represent John’s dysfunctional sexlife with women; Sarah in specific and probably their trip to New Zeeland after TGG. (Maybe this is also why Sherlock in TSoT, when John has just been married to Mary, deduces that one of the wedding guests - a doctor - has ‘erectile dysfunction’?)

Irene’s black car in ASiB

Licence plate: SKO8 ZYL. This black car, which has a private driver, is used to transport John to the Battersea station on New Year’s Eve in ASiB. In spite of being in midwinter, Battersea seems to be flooded with water. And this is the place where Irene exposes John’s sexual relationship with (or at least interest in) Sherlock while Sherlock is listening to the conversation from another room, but John declares that “I’m not actually gay”. This car is so similar to Mycroft’s black car (see above) that John thinks this is Mycroft who kidnaps him again. If Irene represents Sherlock’s libido, what does her black car stand for?

Sherlock’s and John’s hired Land Rover in THoB

Licence plate: OEI0 HFK. The Land Rover is a British car, known for its four-wheel drive and vast off-road capacity. Sherlock drives this car to “deepest, darkest Devon” with John in the passenger seat, so it seems like they were prepared for a ‘bumpy ride’. And this car actually has a visible spare part; an extra wheel in case of emergency:

And their journey really became ‘bumpy’ - at least on an emotional level, since they were both dosed with a fear-inducing gas, had a quarrel, and the gay couple who were running the Inn where they were staying took for granted that they were indeed a couple too.

John’s and Mary’s car in HLV and in TST

Licence plate: SP56 LJY, black Audi. Mary is the driver in HLV. (By the way, why has this car the steering wheel to the left, in a country with left-hand traffic?). Here we’re presented with the interesting idea from the billboard that “Information is the power to change 1895″. In HLV we actually do see something like a spare part for this car; John’s tyre lever. ;) (which looks more like some sort of pipe key, if you ask me, but whatever; it’s still a spare part - or at least a ‘tool’ - associated with John’s transport car):

So this would be consistent with Holmes’ cipher in LAST. And this spare part is treated with very sexual overtones in HLV, so I think the influence of Sentiment and Sex is pretty clear here.

Mrs Hudson’s red Aston Martin in TLD

License plate: APIS CXJ. Now, this is a really interesting and beautiful car I think, and it shows its capacity when it goes speeding in TLD. Mrs Hudson has more resources than some people might believe. But John is only allowed to use her sports car - the ultimate symbol of male virility - when he’s off to rescue Sherlock. ;) 

The license plate reads APIS, which I’m sure is a reference to bees and bee keeping, because Apis mellifera is the scientific name of the honey bee. Holmes’ main occupation as retired in ACD canon is bee keeping, which is shown in LAST, where his secret ‘sparking plugs’ turn out to be the Practical Handbook of Bee Culture. ;)) So Holmes stood by his words in his telegram to Van Bork; he did “come without fail to-night” (he came together with Watson) and he did “bring new sparking plugs”. It’s just that the ‘spark’ wasn’t maybe of the sort that Van Bork had expected... 

Anyway, in this scene in TLD, Sherlock is being kidnapped and handcuffed by Mrs Hudson and transported in the boot of that sports car; he’s literally trapped inside the rear end of his transport, which has John as its direct destination. 

Sadly for all of us, however, John refuses to ‘examine this body’, and this is instead done by the John mirror Molly (inside an ambulance), who tells Sherlock that he’s dying and that “it’s not a game”. 

The next time we see this red sports car, however, John is the driver, and he’s using its great capacity as it should be used: to come to Sherlock’s rescue. ;)

Come to think of it, there’s actually at least one more car spare part mentioned in the show, even if it might not be meant as this specific part:

This car has a steering wheel nevertheless, and Sherlock is sitting in the car while saying this. And yes; this show is indeed repetitive when it comes to certain topics. Like ‘transport’, emotions and bodily needs. But I do hope we’ll finally see some new turns on this topic in the next series. ;)

Thanks for your patience in following this marathon meta to its end! Tagging some people who might be interested (please alert me if you don’t want to be tagged):

@raggedyblue​ @ebaeschnbliah​ @gosherlocked​ @sarahthecoat​ @lukessense​ @therealsaintscully​ @thewatsonbeekeepers​ @sagestreet​ @tjlcisthenewsexy​ @thepersianslipper​ @loveismyrevolution​ @shylockgnomes​ @frailtyofgenius​

Screencaps in this meta are in some cases borrowed from this site (X). 

[foreverlostinliterature]

4/2 Book Deals

Happy Friday, everyone! :) I hope you’ve all had a nice week! I know it’s once again been a hot minute since I’ve managed to make a deals post, so I apologize for that again, but I’m here now with what seems to be a really great selection so I hope that can make up for my absence a little bit. :) How’s everything been going for all of you? I hope you’ve all managed to find some time to relax and get some (I’m sure) much-needed rest and decompression from everything that’s going on right now.

But enough about all that--be sure to have a look at some of the amazing books on sale today! I absolutely love all of Melissa Caruso’s books, so I highly recommend The Tethered Mage, as well as The Diviners! Both of those trilogies are finished, so there’s no waiting for new books if you’re worried about that... just saying. :) I’ve never read Night of the Mannequins, but I’ve really loved the Stephen Graham Jones books I’ve already read, so I think you can’t go wrong with him, probably! Also, I had to add Mr. Popper’s Penguins because I remember reading that in like third grade and it was so cute (or at least.. it used to be. How has it aged??)

Anyway, I hope you’re all having a wonderful week and that your weekend is even better! Happy reading! 

Today’s Deals:

The Tethered Mage by Melissa Caruso - https://amzn.to/39CekJC

Night of the Mannequins by Stephen Graham Jones - https://amzn.to/3sGZh94

The Diviners by Libba Bray - https://amzn.to/3wozQeA

Home Before Dark by Riley Sager - https://amzn.to/3mecP9C

The Lost Girls by Sarah Painter - https://amzn.to/3wlfyCT

The Fact of a Body by Alex Marzano-Lesnevich - https://amzn.to/3wnS2Fq

The Banks by Roxane Gay, Ming Doyle, & Jordie Bellaire - https://amzn.to/3fEVPYS

The A.I. Who Loved Me by Alyssa Cole - https://amzn.to/3cIutPG

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, trans. Michael R. Katz - https://amzn.to/3uedAlS

How to Be a Victorian by Ruth Goodman - https://amzn.to/3dqAv6N

The Queen of Paris by Pamela Binnings Ewen - https://amzn.to/31ERmxl

People Like Her by Ellery Lloyd - https://amzn.to/2PrrTEQ

Mr. Popper's Penguins by Richard & Florence Atwater - https://amzn.to/3wm9OsA

Lincoln's Melancholy: How Depression Challenged a President and Fueled His Greatness by Joshua Wolf Shenk - https://amzn.to/3woxUCO

The Lost for Words Bookshop by Stephanie Butland - https://amzn.to/3ujpPxM

Carnegie Hill by Jonathan Vatner -  https://amzn.to/3uhKcLu

Please Don't Eat the Daisies by Jean Kerr - https://amzn.to/3mcmvBF

A House is a Body: Stories by Shruti Swamy - https://amzn.to/3wmwdpO

NOTE:  I am categorizing these book deals posts under the tag #bookdeals, so if you don’t want to see them then just block that tag and you should be good. I am an Amazon affiliate in addition to a Book Depository affiliate and will receive a small (but very much needed!)  commission on any purchase made through these links.

[gumnut-logic]

Reactions (Bit 15b)

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Thank you ever so much for all your support of this fic. It has floundered in places, but I think it is much more solid now and going in a direction I can control. Of course, it has just past the 20,000 word mark, so much for the fabled ‘ficlet’ I set out to write. ::ponders writing twenty fandomversary fics of that length and falls on face::

I’m working the next six days straight as it is my shitty weekend this week. I will keep writing, but results may vary as I get worn down by work. What gets doen, will get done. Work cramps my style.

This is for @soniabigcheese​ one of the mainstays of this wonderful fandom :D

-o-o-o-

The crowd erupted.

“Virgil, sit down.” It was hissed at him as the roar overtook everything.

Everyone was shouting.

Veronica was calling for order, but no one was listening.

That one woman kept staring at him. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for her tears.

“Do you admit responsibility for the sixty-three deaths in New York?”

“That was an apology!”

“Why did you let it happen?”

It was an avalanche threatening to sweep him away.

Then someone got a hold of a megaphone. “You people are disgusting!”

It was like an extra knife, twisting in his gut. Virgil looked down at the wooden table in front of him. After images danced in his eyesight.

But the megaphone continued. “How can you treat these men this way? How many of you have had loved ones saved by International Rescue? I have! We owe these men everything, you ungrateful slimes!”

Virgil’s head shot up. What?

On the other side of the crowd, almost opposite the woman who had accused him, were a group of people all dressed in green. Beside them were other groups of colours – yellow, blue, gold and red. Above this rainbow were more placards, but their message was considerably different.

‘Virgil Tracy saved my boy’.

‘I’ve been saved and so have you.’

‘Rescued by International Rescue.’

‘Leave IR alone.’

The one that screamed out in blue ‘Scott Tracy, will you marry me?’ held a different message altogether, but the spirit was there.

The woman holding the microphone was dark-haired and unfamiliar.

The hub bub had died down just a little and Virgil found the ability to breathe again.

The woman’s eyes caught his and the determination and the…trust in them was a physical thing that up and slapped him.

She didn’t let him go.

He was International Rescue.

He saved people.

Again, the crowd reacted to him. Much more must be showing on his face than he was aware, because a tension settled over the people below. Eyes darted between the woman in green and Virgil’s stare. New questions popped up, but they were quieter and finally, Veronica was able to take control of the proceedings.

“Thank you for your consideration.” Her pursed lips added sarcasm and not a little admonishment to her words. “Scott and Virgil Tracy are here to answer a few questions, but before we start, Mr Tracy has a statement.”

She stepped back from the lectern and Scott stood up, his fingers brushing gently over Virgil’s shoulder.

Scott exuded command. His brother was putting every bit of himself into projecting confidence and power.

And he was succeeding.

“Several accusations have been made against International Rescue in recent days.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Regarding Hurricane Lucy…myself and my brothers are grieved at the loss of life caused by the storm, and the damage to the environment incurred by the oil spill.” Another pause, eyes raking the crowd. “Despite repeated attempts to launch, we were restrained by the Global Defence Force from saving those in danger.

“We wanted to, but we were forced to sit and watch when we could have prevented so much.

“And for that reason, we share your grief.”

Blue eyes raked the silent crowd. “Regarding the incident in New York…” A whimper to their left and Virgil’s eyes were once again forced to land on the woman who had lost her son.

The tears were gone and he only found hatred in her eyes.

He drew in a breath.

Cameras flashed yet again.

“Virgil! We trust you!” It was loud. It was sudden. But it whipped his eyes away from accusation to the other side of the crowd once again where that colourful group of people projected support.

His heart twisted.

He felt Scott’s eyes on him, before his brother retook control of the crowd. “Regarding the incident in New York. We are investigating the cause of the accident, but I can assure you that it was not pilot error.”

He held the crowd with his eyes and Virgil found even more admiration for his brother. Scott knew exactly what he was doing and he was doing it well.

His brother took a step back. “Thank you for coming.”

Several reporters twitched at that, arms shooting up with a sudden fear they were about to lose their opportunity to speak with the Tracys.

Intelligent and powerful, Scott looked down on them and held them with his eyes just that moment longer before breaking the spell and returning to his seat beside Virgil.

Virgil stared at him.

Okay, wow.

His brother turned to look at him and blue sparkled as one corner of his lips curled up just a little.

Oh, confident and suave Scooter who was fully aware of his skill. It distracted Virgil from dark thoughts and he suddenly realised that he was as subject to his brother’s spell as the rest of the crowd.

Smart ass.

Veronica took the stand again. “We have time for a few relevant questions.”

Hands that had dropped under that blue-eyed bewitchment shot up again. Veronica turned to Scott, non-verbally handing him the floor.

And Virgil realised that Scott had returned to his seat for only one reason.

To support his younger brother through this.

Virgil let his shoulders drop.

Control of the crowd returned to Scott.

The commander eyed the cluster of journalists, raised a hand and pointed to one on the right. “Ned?”

Virgil blinked. It was indeed Ned Cook. Scott and the reporter had a long term, ongoing antagonism. Cook had chased International Rescue across the globe, attending as many rescues as he could. Having once encountered a frustrated Scott in person, and then been saved by Virgil during a building collapse not long after, he was very pro-IR on every front.

Scott still had words with him time to time. The man always had to push the boundaries and Virgil knew his brother found him irritating.

Virgil just worried the man was going to get himself killed.

But he was a fair reporter and would relay the facts.

Dark hair and eyes bounced between the two Tracys. “So, what you are saying is that International Rescue was not responsible for either incident?”

Scott tilted his head. “Mr Cook, what I am saying is that we are not responsible for being unable to assist during Hurricane Lucy. That blame lies entirely with GDF Command. We have recordings of their direction during the crisis and the extent we tried to help. We were vetoed on all fronts.”

“Why didn’t you fly anyway?”

“And give the GDF an excuse to ground us permanently? Risk all the future lives we could save?” Scott sighed. “We can only help those who want to be helped.”

That set the crowd rumbling. There were shouts of ‘we wanted help’ and ‘please help us’.

Virgil found his eyes drawn again to the left.

The woman was still staring at him with accusation in every line.

He shied away.

“What about the New York disaster?” Cook wasn’t letting them off the hook.

Scott remained calm. “As I said, we are still investigating.”

Virgil was aware of all the eyes on him.

Scott pointed at another reporter.

The man straightened. “Eddie Kerr, sir. I’d like to address Mr Virgil Tracy.”

Scott glanced at him sideways, but Virgil nodded.

All the attention turned to him.

“Virgil, what were your thoughts when that slab of concrete dropped on those sixty-three people?”

Virgil’s throat tightened and he had to clear his throat, but he found his voice. “Sixty-four, my youngest brother was also under that concrete when it fell.”

“But he survived. The other sixty-three did not.”

“I tried, Mr Kerr. God, I tried. It shouldn’t have happened.” A hand landed on his arm and cameras flashed at him again.

God, he was the vulnerability.

“You did your best, Virgil” The megaphone again. “We know you-” She was cut off.

His eyes found the green woman wrestling with a police officer. He appeared to be attempting to take away the megaphone.

Virgil stood up. “No, leave her alone!”

“Virgil!” Scott hissed at him again.

He turned to his brother. “She has the right to speak, Scott. Just as much as anyone else here.” Turning back to the crowd. “Leave her be!”

“You don’t control the police, Mr Tracy.” It was sneered from somewhere down at the front.

Scott rose beside him, tension in every line as a woman in a suit stepped out of the crowd. She had an intensity in her step that spoke of confidence and a right to be where she was.

On the other side of the plaza, the green woman was joined by one dressed in red and a man in blue. More police ran to the scene as the woman struggled. The crowd murmured uneasily.

“Mr Tracy!” The woman in the suit was being held back by IR Security. Gerald, in fact, Scott’s personal attendant. “I’m from the Office of the Commissioner of Justice.” Her tones were sharp and her identification was literally shoved in Gerald’s face. The officer frowned as he focussed on the document. Eyes darted up to Scott and confirmed her identity.

Cameras were flashing again, almost blinding Virgil as his brother nodded. Gerald let the woman through, hovering behind her, hand on his stunner.

She sauntered up to the podium, eyes cold and accusing. She slapped a clear flimsy down in front of Virgil as Scott shifted closer, all towering protectiveness.

The woman ignored him. Attention solely on Virgil, “You’re summoned, Mr Virgil Tracy, to answer for your actions.” Her finger tapped the electronic slip and the flimsy flashed acceptance.

Virgil stared at her, but she ignored him, and turned to Scott. “You don’t control everything, commander. You will answer for your actions.”

She spun on her heel and strode off into the crowd.

Virgil found his mouth open and shut it.

The light and noise of the crowd rose up and consumed him.

-o-o-o-

Next

[percysaysfuck]

THREE OLD BITCHES KNIT THE SOCKS OF DEATH

I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This twenty-four/seven hallucination was more than I could handle. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of trick on me. The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr—a perky blond woman whom I'd never seen in my life until she got on our bus at the end of the field trip—had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Every so often I would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on somebody, just to see if I could trip them up, but they would stare at me like I was psycho.

It got so I almost believed them—Mrs. Dodds had never existed.

Almost.

But Grover couldn't fool me. When I mentioned the name Dodds to him, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist. But I knew he was fucking lying.

Something was going on. Something had happened at the museum.

I didn't have much time to think about it during the days, but at night, visions of Mrs. Dodds with talons and leathery wings would wake me up in a cold sweat.

The freak weather continued, which didn't help my mood. One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.

I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time. My grades slipped from Ds to Fs. I got into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her shit faced friends. I was sent out into the hallway in almost every class.

Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me for the millionth time why I was too lazy to study for spelling tests, I snapped. I called him an old sot. I wasn't even sure what it meant, but it sounded good.

The headmaster sent my mom a letter the following week, making it official: I would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy.

Fine, I told myself. Just fine.

I was homesick.

I wanted to be with my mom in our little apartment on the Upper East Side, even if I had to go to public school and put up with my obnoxious fucking stepfather and his shitty poker parties.

And yet. . . there were things I'd miss at Yancy. The view of the woods out my dorm window, the Hudson River in the distance, the smell of pine trees. Id miss Grover, who'd been a good friend, even if he was a little fucked up. I worried how he'd survive next year without me.

I'd miss Latin class, too—Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and his faith that I could do well.

As exam week got closer, Latin was the only test I studied for. I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about this subject being life-and-death for me. I wasn't sure why, but I'd started to believe him.

The evening before my final, I got so frustrated I threw the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across my dorm room. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards. There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Fucking forget it.

I paced the room, feeling like ants were crawling around inside my shirt.

I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson. I took a deep breath. I picked up the mythology book.

I'd never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn't want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn't tried.

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor.

I was three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said ". . . worried about Percy, sir. "

I froze.

Shit.

I'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking shit about you to an adult.

I inched closer.

". . . alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too—"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the boy to mature more. "

"But he may not have time. The summer solstice deadline— "

"Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can. "

"Sir, he saw her. . . . "

"His imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him of that. "

"Sir, I . . . I can't fail in my duties again. " Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean. "

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now lets just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall—"

The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud.

Fuck.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

My heart hammering, I picked up the book and backed down the hall.

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archers bow.

I opened the nearest door and slipped inside.

A few seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, then moved on.

A bead of sweat trickled down my neck.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice. "

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn . . . "

"Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow. "

"Don't remind me. "

The lights went out in Mr. Brunner's office.

I waited in the dark for what seemed like forever.

Finally, I slipped out into the hallway and made my way back up to the dorm.

Grover was lying on his bed, studying his Latin exam notes like he'd been there all night.

"Hey," he said, bleary-eyed. "You going to be ready for this test?"

I didn't answer.

"You look awful. " He frowned. "Is everything okay?"

"Just. . . tired. "

I turned so he couldn't read my expression, and started getting ready for bed.

I didn't understand what I'd heard downstairs. I wanted to believe I'd imagined the whole thing.

But one thing was clear: Grover and Mr. Brunner were talking about me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger.

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside.

For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about my eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"Percy," he said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's . . . it's for the best. "

His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other kids finishing the test could hear. Nancy Bobofit fucking smirked at me and made sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips.

I mumbled, "Okay, sir. "

"I mean . . . " Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time. "

My eyes stung.

Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I couldn't handle it. After saying he believed in me all year, now he was telling me I was destined to get kicked out.

"Right," I said, trembling.

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say . . . you're not normal, Percy. That's nothing to be—"

"Thanks," I blurted. "Thanks a lot, sir, for fucking reminding me. "

"Percy—"

But I was already gone.

On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase.

The other guys were joking around, talking about their vacation plans. One of them was going on a hiking trip to Switzerland. Another was cruising the Caribbean for a month. They were juvenile delinquents, like me, but they were rich juvenile delinquents. Their daddies were executives, or ambassadors, or celebrities. I was a nobody, from a family of fucking nobodies.

They asked me what Id be doing this summer and I told them I was going back to the city.

What I didn't tell them was that I'd have to get a summer job walking dogs or selling magazine subscriptions, and spend my free time worrying about where I'd go to school in the fall.

"Oh," one of the guys said. "That's cool. "

They went back to their conversation as if I'd never existed.

The only person I dreaded saying good-bye to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn't have to. He'd booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city.

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound.

Finally I couldn't fucking stand it anymore.

I said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha—what do you mean?"

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you hear?"

"Oh . . . not much. What's the summer solstice dead-line?"

He winced. "Look, Percy . . . I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers . . . "

"Grover—"

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and . . . "

"Grover, you're a really, really bad fucking liar. "

His ears turned pink.

From his shirt pocket, he fished out a grubby business card. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer."

The card was in fancy script, which was murder on my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out something like:

Grover Underwood

Keeper

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009

"What's Half—"

"Don't say it aloud!" he yelped. "That's my, um . . . summer address. "

My heart sank. Grover had a fucking summer home. I'd never considered that his family might be as rich as the others at Yancy.

"Okay," I said glumly. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion. "

He nodded. "Or . . . or if you need me. "

"Why the fuck would I need you?"

It came out harsher than I meant it to.

Grover blushed right down to his Adams apple. "Look, Percy, the truth is, I—I kind of have to protect you. "

I stared at him.

All year long, I'd gotten in fights, keeping bullies away from him. I'd lost sleep worrying that he'd get beaten up next year without me. And here he was acting like he was the one who fucking defended me.

"Grover," I said, "what exactly are you protecting me from?"

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. Grover and I filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road—no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked really fucking good: heaping boxes of bloodred cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks Id ever seen.

I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn.

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right fucking at me.

I looked over at Grover to say something about this and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching.

"Grover?" I said. "Hey, man—"

"Tell me they're not looking at you. They are, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?"

"Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all. "

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors—gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath.

"Were getting on the bus," he told me. "Come on. "

"What?" I said. "It's a thousand degrees in there. "

"Come on!" He pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back.

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching me. The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for—Sasquatch or Godzilla.

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

The passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody back on board!"

Once we got going, I started feeling feverish, as if I'd caught the fucking flu.

Grover didn't look much better. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

"Grover?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you not fucking telling me?"

He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They're not like . . . Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. He said, "Just tell me what you saw. "

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she fucking cut the yarn. "

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might've been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was something else, something almost—older.

He said, "You saw her snip the cord. "

"Yeah. So?" But even as I said it, I knew it was a big deal.

"This is not happening," Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time. "

"What last time?"

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth. "

"Grover," I said, because he was really starting to fucking scare me. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me. "

This seemed like a strange request to me, but I promised he could.

"Is this like a superstition or something?" I asked.

No answer.

"Grover—that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to fucking die?"

He looked at me mournfully, like he was already picking the kind of flowers I'd like best on my coffin.

Fuck.

[newagesispage]

                                                                JULY                                   2021

 THE RIB PAGE

 *****

They are still uncovering statues on Easter Island.

*****

Everyone is talking about ‘Exterminate all the Brutes” from Raoul Peck.

*****

Vampire bats, prevalent in Latin America may be on the way to the U.S.

*****

What they call faith, I call strength.

*****

Criss angel will open CABLP, a restaurant in Overton, Nevada. The letters stand for breakfast, lunch and pizza and will include a free meal outreach program to help under privileged and pediatric cancer families.

*****

A fifth ocean in Antartica??** There have also found 4 new ocean species: Apolemia, Tegula Kusairo, Leptarma Biju and Duobrachium Sparksae.

*****

In China they have found a possible new species in a skull that is 140,000 years old.

*****

Why would Jeffrey Toobin be back at CNN?? Surely there are more young deserving talking heads around.

*****

The Keystone pipeline is dead.

*****

5,000 pounds of explosives were discovered in a home in South LA. LAPD seems to have detonated the fireworks in a truck right there in the neighborhood. They were too dangerous to transport but not enough to blow them up??? How stupid are these people??

*****

Days alert : So glad to see Clyde again even if it is only for a moment!! **BTW, I do not understand the Daytime Emmy noms this year as they relate to Days. I really was pulling for Victoria Koneful (Ciara) and she won but George DelHoya (Orpheus), Tamara Braun (Ava) and Cady McClain (Jennifer)??? I was shocked when Cady McClain won. I mean, she was so whiny. I question my own ability to judge a performance. In most categories, the winner was usually the one I thought was the worst option. I was happy for Max Gail and CBS Sunday Morning.  Some performances were sure overlooked. What about James Read (Clyde), Paul Telfer (Xander), Bryan Dattilo (Lucas), Robert Scott Wilson (Ben), Daniel Kerr (Eli) and Lindsay Arnold (Allie) ?? As annoying as the Kristen character is and as long as it took me to get used to Stacy Haiduk in the role, she kicked ass this year. Did they even submit clips?? And,  they are not often on but Tony and Anna forever!!!!!!** And how wonderful is it to see the Dimera boys all together and recounting the whole fam for the votes? **And one more thing, Days was not even nominated for writing while Bold and the Beautiful spends every other show with the Liam character standing in front of the fireplace making excuses for the same shit! Just push repeat, C,mon!!**Philip had a great line for Brady about following Kristen like a zombie.** Dis Eli really say, “Peacock and chill??’ Are these the things they will have to do to do to stay on the air? It took me right out of the show. It was the same day the ads for Days on Peacock started. OMG

*****

Texas Gov. Abbott vetoed a bill that would make it illegal to chain up dogs without water.**ATexas churches have lost their 501(c) (3) status because it actively ‘educates’ its members on electing specific Republican politicians. –Pete West* This should have been happening long ago. Many churches I know of do this and should not be allowed to have it both ways. #tax the church

*****

Ellen Burstyn, Jane Curtin, Loretta Devine, Christopher Lloyd, James Caan, French Stewart and Ann-Margaret in Queen Bees and directed by Michael Lembeck?? Yes please!!

*****

NY has suspended Giuliani’s law license.

*****

Miracle Workers: The Oregon Trail is coming to TBS, this will be season 3 in the series.

*****

What is this about Bowen Yang?? A podcast about a sperm bank heist?? Yeow!!

*****

David Geffen has given $150,000,000 to Yale drama school: Every student will be tuition- free in perpetuity.

*****

Allison Mack was sentenced to 3 years.

*****

The latest in sexual assault news: James Franco has agreed to 2.2 mil settlement in sexual misconduct case.** Kyle Massey was charged with immoral communication with a minor.**Bill Cosby is out and here are some reactions: A terrible wrong is being righted.: a miscarriage of justice is corrected. I fully support survivors of sexual assault coming forward.- Phylicia Rashad*I really don’t ever want to hear again as to why many survivors don’t report their rape or assault.- Charlotte Clymer* Women are showing great restraint in not burning everything to the ground right now and I don’t know how they do it.-Jeff Tiedrich

*****

Amazon is making a series of A League of Their Own with Nick Offerman as the coach.

*****

Does anyone else have family members that are rich, transient, know it all snobs??

*****

It looks like New York’s ranked choice voting is leaning toward Eric Adams for Mayor.

*****

Michigan republicans investigating voter fraud found 2 incidents. One is for a lady who voted by mail and then died, the other was confusion over a man who had the same name as his Father. That was it!

*****

Jamie Lee Curtis will get the Golden Lion for lifetime achievement at the 78th Venice International Film Fest in September.

*****

Jerry Seinfeld will star in and direct ‘Unfrosted’ about Pop-Tarts.

*****

Why is Airbnb still listing properties in illegal settlements and outposts in Palestinian occupied territories? –James J. Zogby

*****

Merrick Garland has announced that the Justice department sued Georgia over the voting rights.

*****

The NFL says that it will halt the use of “race norming” which assumed black players started out with lower cognitive functioning in a $1 billion settlement of brain injury claims. The practice had made it harder for black players to qualify. –The Associated Press.

*****

Scary Clown 45 ended his ‘From the desk of Donald J. Trump’ blog after 29 days. Word is that he felt he was being mocked in the media.

*****

Religious leadership keeps engaging in partisan politics on behalf of politicians that are particularly unpopular with younger people and they wonder why younger people are disenchanted with the church. – Schooley ** Give young people credit as well for seeing through the hype and lies of these religious hypocrites who use God only as a weapon and a threat. –Larry Charles

*****

Amazon will stop drug testing for employment. Can every other company jump on this bandwagon? Let’s judge employees on the work they give.

*****

The Backstreet Boys and NSync are going to work together??!!

*****

Showtime is bringing back American Gigolo with Jon Bernthal.

*****

If Biden can carry out air strikes without proper authorization, the Senate can raise the minimum wage without the Parliamentarian.  –Alexandra M. Hunt

Reality Winner is out!!

*****

Judy Woodruff has been given the Peabody award for journalistic integrity.

*****

Donald Glover is bringing us Hive. Malia Obama will be a writer.

*****

Nicholas Cage has married Riko Shibata.

*****

Catch and Kill: The podcast tapes, is here on HBO.

*****

Bryan Cranston and Annette Bening will star in Jerry and Marge go large.

*****

Amblin Partners and Netflix are partners.

*****

Fall 2022 will bring the Roybal School of film and television production for underserved communities. They are looking to help 9th, 10th, 11th and 12th grade students. Among others, the program was cofounded by George Clooney, Don Cheadle, Kerry Washington, Mindy Kaling and Eva Longoria.

*****

Will there be a Wedding Crashers2??

*****

The Mysterious Benedict Society stars Tony Hale.** I would love to see he and Danny Pudi in something together.

*****

Actor Stephen Amell from Arrow was removed from a plane after getting into it with his wife.  A source said he was drunk and screaming. An official source said that they removed “an unruly customer.”** Andy Dick was arrested for assault with a deadly weapon, allegedly assaulting his partner, Lucas with a metal chair.

*****

So.. Fox news was digitally altering the faces of people they did not care for??? Is there no end to their bullshit????

*****

Mark Ronson is set to marry Grace Gummer.

*****

Crime shows seem to be in the cycle of prisoners and the women who get a thrill from helping them escape.

*****

Wolfgang Van Halen has released a debut album: Mammoth

*****

Everyone seems to love Danny Trejo’s memoir and its honesty.

*****

David Spade will take over as host of Bachelor in Paradise.

*****

I am sickened when I see the first question that pops up on an online search is the net worth of a person. Oh this twisted world.

*****

Life is a short pause between 2 great mysteries. –Jung

*****

Prince Harry and Meghan had a daughter that they named Lilibet ‘Lili” Diana.

*****

Michael Flynn’s brother Charles (who withheld help from the capitol on Jan. 6), leads the U.S. Army Pacific and commands 90,000 troops.

*****

I am so excited to read ‘The Boys’ from Clint and Ron Howard, due out in October.

*****

Dave Chappelle closed out the Tribeca film fest with a surprise concert. This was the first in person film fest since Covid. Look for This time, this place which premiered there.

*****

Ron Wood will release the album Mr. Luck: A tribute to Jimmy Reed on Sept. 3

*****

Howard Stern signed a new $500 mil contract with Sirius XM. He is taking the whole summer off and many fans say they will cancel their subscription because they don’t want to pay for a summer of reruns.

*****

Acorn will bring Jane Seymour back to a series. Seymour will be co -executive produce on Harry Wild. Her character will be a retired University professor who loves her whiskey and solves crimes.

*****

Annie Murphy  stasr in ‘Kevin can f*** himself about a sitcom wife which airs on AMC.

*****

I still do not understand why Rep. Mike Nearman hasn’t been arrested for letting insurrectionists into the Capitol.

*****

There is a wing shortage??

*****

The Pulitzer prizes have been announced. The list includes Ben Faub, Barry Blitt, Katori Hall, Emilio Morenatti, AP photographers Marcio Jose Sanchez, Alex Brandon, David Goldman, Julio Cortez, John Minchillo, Frank Franklin II, Ringo H.W. Chiu, Evan Vucci, Mike Stewart and Noah Berger. There was a special citation for Darnella Frazier who filmed the death of George Floyd.

*****

Conan’s last TBS guests were Martin Short, Jack Black, Bill Hader, Mila Kunis, Dana Carvey, Patton Oswalt and JB Smoove. There were some surprises.  The big musical number never happened when Jack Black hurt himself. It was all funny and sweet but Conan never mentioned the band in the last show WTF????????????????????????????????????????? Music is so important to him and he does not thank the band? ** Colbert and Brian Stack gave Conan a cute send after4, 368 shows on CBS calling him a ‘Slenderman Ron Weasly’.  Kimmel wished Conn well also.** Hope his HBO MAX variety show goes well.** BTW, the Duvall interview with Colbert was great to see but why does nobody ever mention ‘Get Low?’ What a performance!!

*****

Tattoos are on the rise.

*****

Fast food drive thru’s sometime close with fake excuses like the equipment is down or something because they don’t feel like working. Good people can’t find work and so many waste the opportunities they have. AAAAGHH!!

*****

Valerie Bertinelli and Demi Lovato will star in ‘Hungry’ on NBC.

*****

Hulu will bring us David E. Kelley’s Nine Perfect Strangers with Nicole Kidman, Michael Shannon, Regina Hall, Bobby Cannavale and Melissa McCarthy.

*****

R.I.P. Gavin Macleod, Frank Bonner, Joy Vogelsang, Benigno Aquino, Champ Biden, victims of the Miami building collapse, Robert Sacchi, Stuart Damon, Johnny Solinger  and Clarence Williams III.

[tcm]

Van Johnson: The Leading Man with a Boyish Charm By Susan King

If Frank Sinatra was the favorite singer of bobbysoxers in the 1940s, Van Johnson was every teenage girl’s dreamboat. And for good reason. He was adorable: tall, athletic, freckle-faced with reddish blond hair, a warm smile and a charming screen presence. He was the perfect boy-next-door any mother would want her daughter to marry. In fact, when he went to the New York premiere of A THRILL OF A ROMANCE (‘45), a Technicolor romantic comedy also starring MGM’s aqua star Esther Williams, he was waylaid by the bobbysoxers who even ripped the buttons off his shirt.

Johnson was also a lyric in the Prehistoric Man number in ON THE TOWN (‘49): “What has Gable got for me and Mrs. Johnson’s blond boy Van, I want a handsome Joe from ages ago, a prehistoric man!” But he was more than just a pretty face. He more than held his own opposite Spencer Tracy and Irene Dunne in his first major starring role in the romantic fantasy A GUY NAMED JOE (‘43), and he was moving as a real-life flier who loses his leg in the stirring THIRTY SECONDS OVER TOKYO (‘44).

In my L.A. Times interview with him in 1991, Johnson, then 75, told me, “I never expected or thought about the movies. It was a never-never land out there. It was soooooo glamorous.” During his years under contract with MGM, he noted that he would pinch himself to realize he was in fact a movie star. “Every day I drove on the lot, I looked up at Leo the Lion and I couldn’t believe it was me, this little kid from Newport, R.I., up there with all of those famous people. I never got over it.”

Born in 1916, Johnson’s childhood was less than idyllic. His alcoholic mother abandoned the family when he was young. His Swedish-immigrant father was cold. But young Johnson found solace in the touring companies that appeared in Newport. After he graduated from high school, he went to New York. He was 19 when he got a part in the Broadway revue New Faces of 1936, followed by roles in the musicals Too Many Girls and Pal Joey. He came to Hollywood to do the 1940 film version of TOO MANY GIRLS.

It was Lucille Ball, star of TOO MANY GIRLS, who introduced him to the MGM casting director Billy Grady. Johnson recalled in a 1963 interview that Ball told him, “I’m going to introduce you, and at least you’re going to act like you’re the star I think you are.” Johnson began to work his way up the MGM ladder when he got a role in A GUY NAMED JOE. But he nearly died in early 1943 when his DeSoto convertible was struck by another car. He suffered a fractured skull, major facial injuries, a severed neck artery and bone fragments that pierced his brain. After several surgeries and several months, his forehead was left with major scars. He also had a metal plate put into the left side of his head.

He later remembered he was told he had been nearly decapitated. “But I never lost consciousness. I spent four months in the hospital after they sewed the top of my head back on,” Johnson noted. MGM wanted to replace him, but Tracy and director Victor Fleming insisted production be halted until he was well enough to return to work. And a star was born. Ironically, bobbysoxers would abandon him in 1947 when he married pal Keenan Wynn’s ex-wife. His popularity waned but he continued to work usually doing three or four films a year.

I think he did some of his best work once he lost the matinee idol moniker in such films as the World War II drama COMMAND DECISION (‘48); William A. Wellman’s gritty acclaimed World War II action-drama BATTLEGROUND (‘49); THE LAST TIME I SAW PARIS (‘54), a romantic drama based on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s short story “Babylon Revisited” and most notably in the classic THE CAINE MUTINY (‘54), which also starred Humphrey Bogart as the maniacal Capt. Queeg. He also drips with charm in IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMERTIME (‘49) and the perfect partner for Judy Garland in the delightful musical remake of Ernst Lubitsch’s romantic comedy THE SHOP AROUND THE CORNER (‘40). MGM didn’t renew his contract in 1954, so he went to Columbia to do such movies as the romantic drama THE END OF THE AFFAIR (‘55) with Deborah Kerr. Johnson also starred in a dual role in the truly bizarre NBC musical The Pied Piper of Hamelin, which aired Thanksgiving weekend in 1957.

In the 1960s, Johnson not only had two bouts with cancer, he saw his film roles dry up. So, he began touring in such musicals as Damn Yankees and The Music Man. He said in an interview why he turned to theater: “Because the phone didn’t ring. Because the film scripts were getting crummier and crummier. Because I sat beside my pool in Palm Springs one day and told myself, ‘Van, you’ll be 45 this year. If you don’t start doing something now, you never will.”

Besides doing an occasional movie, Johnson appeared on countless TV series, movies and miniseries, earning an Emmy nomination for the ABC miniseries Rich Man, Poor Man. He returned to Broadway in 1985 in Jerry Herman’s Tony Award-winning musical La Cage Aux Folles and that same year he appeared in a small role as an actor in Woody Allen’s enchanting THE PURPLE ROSE OF CAIRO (‘85). “These are supposed to be my September years” he once told an interviewer. “I’m supposed to be at home enjoying them, but I still love to tour.”

When I interviewed Johnson, he was in town to appear in a production of Show Boat in Pasadena. He was set to play Cap’n Andy, a role he had done several times. Even at 75, he still was boyish and charming. But I felt bad for him. He had damaged his ear drums after flying with a cold and was extremely hard of hearing. And he was fighting a bad case of bronchitis. Johnson never went on stage because he developed pneumonia before opening night. He retired in 1992 and died at 92 in 2008.

Though many actors bristled being under contract, Johnson confessed in a 1985 interview he loved his years at MGM. “It was one big happy family and a little kingdom,” he noted. “Everything was provided for us, from singing lessons to barbells. All we had to do was inhale, exhale and be charming. I used to dread leaving the studio to go out into the real world, because to me the studio was the real world.”

[nitrateglow]

The Innocents, The Heiress, Charade

The Innocents

1. Deborah Kerr’s acting during the first scene with the children’s uncle. Even though she wasn’t the 20-something governess described in the novel, she conveys a sense of girlish infatuation so well without going overboard.

2. Black and white cinematography often excels at making the dark seem oppressive and frightening, but this movie somehow makes daytime scenes terrifying too. I love how stark some of the daytime shots are, especially when Miss Jessel shows up by the lake!

3. I feel like the acting of the woman playing Mrs. Grose is often overlooked. She’s about the one normal person we have in that madhouse and I love how you can slowly see her start to lose faith in Miss Giddens the more superstitious she becomes regarding the ghosts and their intentions for the children.

The Heiress

1. Catherine’s little joke about Lavinia’s husband being in hell. It’s an early glimpse of how witty she can be-- and in a way, how nasty, even if it is a joke.

2. Dr. Sloper jingling his keys above the sleeping Catherine’s ear to wake her up right before the scene where she shares her plan to marry Morris. It’s a weird gesture, even ambiguous: it could be read as a sign of affection or contempt-- maybe both. It’s like something you would do to wake up a cat, for God’s sake!

3. Oh my God, the scene where the jilted Catherine ascends the stairs after a night of tears. Everything about that scene is so simple, but so brilliant! The camera angle looking down at Catherine, the business of her having to carry so much luggage up there with her, the sheer emotional exhaustion on De Havilland’s face.

Charade

1. The first scene after the opening titles. The best openings tend to be the ones that encapsulate the tone and theme of the movie to come in a concise way. Charade succeeds in spades: we get a shot of Regina trying to enjoy a meal and then an extreme close-up of a hand aiming a gun at her. We fear the worst (especially after the tense cold opening with Mr. Lampert thrown out of the train!) only for the gun to shoot water instead. I love how it foreshadows the many twists and comedic moments of the film to come, as well as how Regina uses a wry sense of humor to anchor herself in stressful situations (”Don’t tell me-- you didn’t know it was loaded!”).

2. I love the ways the criminals try to test if Charles really is dead during the funeral-- the glass, a pin, etc. It’s morbidly funny.

3. Having the climax take place in an abandoned theater is just brilliant. The two men have essentially been putting on a show the whole time-- and the only audience member left so to speak is Reggie. It’s a cool meta touch I didn’t notice until many, many viewings later!

give me a movie title and i’ll share three little details i love from it

[fandomexplosion]

Dc comics high school Au

Younger characters are students and older ones are parents/Teachers

Okay so I don’t have it completely writing out yet, these are just points Part 1/? Don't know if I'm going write anymore or even write a story for this.

Teachers/Parents

Diana Prince- history Teacher (mostly Greek history) and girls track coach.

Bruce Wayne- Parent. Practically the head of the pta. I mean he has enough kids.

Clark kent- both, parent and the fucking principle (Reason #1 Why Conner wants to hang himself.)

Lex Luthor- vice principal-

Oliver Queen- both, business teacher and Roy’s foster father. Will either come in on Monday morning hungover or just not show up. Mostly plays movies.

Barry Allen- teacher- chemistry teacher and boys track coach. (He’s also Wally’s uncle)

Hal Jordan- gym teacher

Dinah Lance- choir teacher.

Ray Palmer- physics teacher-

Ted Kord- math teacher. Doesn’t really want to but someone has to.

Rita Farr- drama/theatre teacher

Cliff Steel- auto and mechanics teacher.

Joe Kerr (Joker)- the drama director

John Jones- English teacher

Kyle Rayner- Art teacher- has never taught before. (It’s his first year) makes friends with students

Selina Kyle- Gymnastics teacher/Coach

Arthur Curry- swim teacher and coach.

Alec Holland- biology teacher-

Pamela Isley- earth science teacher

Harleen Quinzel- ladies softball coach, school psychologist/Counselor

Lazlo Valentin (Professor Pyg)- school nurse/doctor

Teth-Adam (black Adam) - ap/world history.

Edward Nygma- English teacher.- “Now can someone who isn’t completely incompetent answer this.” “Bart Put your hand down, you’re an idiot”

Eobard Thawne- US history teacher

Vandal Savage- superintendent.-

Every once in a while a sub will come in (Mr. Shazam? Mr. Marvel?) oddly enough He’s never subed for Billy’s class or he’s absent in said class.

Music Meister- band

Vril Dox- algebra and geometry teacher

Students

Dick Grayson- on the gymnastics team. The most popular boy in a cheesy movie about high school romance

Roy Harper- looks like a drug addict, probably is a drug addict. Voted most likely to shoot up a school. Jason Todd is his partner in crime.

Jason Todd- voted most likely to blow up the school. Has the hot bad boy routine DOWN. Wake me up WAKE ME UP INSIDE I can’t wake up.

Tim Drake- is literally a walking mess. Always has coffee. Will probably find him hunched over computer watching buzzfeed unsolved.

Kara Danvers- is a cheerleader. Tries. She really tries but she’s a hot mess. (But to be honest most in this school are) in the journalist club. (Clark and Conner’s cousin)

Wally West- track star. Will take food from anyone. Is actually a nerd.

Conner Kent- it’s almost like these hot blue eyed black hair boys are being cloned. Will flirt with anyone and everyone. Has a great style. Will tell you if what you’re wearing is bad. Is dork though.

Bart Allen- is everyone’s little brother. The cute one. Also weird. And get this boy a haircut. (Not really it’s cute) like his cousin Wally he will eat everything however his is more absurd. Like fries off the ground or random sludge he was dared to drink. Somehow related to Barry (know one knows how though)

Kory Anders- head cheerleader. Is nice but intimidating. Looks like a Brazilian super model. Also plays volleyball.

Cassie Sandsmark- also cheerleader🤷‍♀️. Akward and weird.

Cassandra Cain- quiet, cute and can kick your ass. If you mess with her and she somehow doesn’t fuck you up, you bet her four brothers will. Is a dancer. Knows asl

Garfield Logan- basketball player. Funny dorky kid. In drama class/theatre.

Rachel Roth- goth girl. Meditates. Might be possessed but is easily calmed with tea.

Damian Wayne- isn’t actually in high school but has ap classes. Will get picked up by his older siblings and will end up hanging with who said sibling is hanging with. Will usually get picked up by Dick or Jason will force Tim to pick Damian up for him.

Barbara Gordon- computer wiz. *Hacker voice* I’m in. I’m a boss ass bitch plays in the background.

Billy Batson- is that one freshman that doesn’t annoy everyone. Is kinda an outsider. Makes friends with everyone though, even the teachers. Is actually really smart and somehow knows everything. Is the one who would find ‘Secret’ passages and sneaks around a lot.

Stephanie Brown- WAFFLES! Wears a lot of purple.

Donna Troy- yearbook photographer. Is mom friend to everyone. Tells you when you’re being stupid.

Duke Thomas- doesn’t want to be here. ”All those idiots over there? Yah I don't know them.” He says like a liar.

Jon Kent- not in high school but is Conner’s little brother and Damian’s best friend.

Querl Dox- Big nerd. Everyone goes to him when the Don’t get their Math homework. Resting judging you face.

Couples

Hal and Barry- the cute teacher couple

Dick and Kory- prom king and queen. Will probably get married once they graduate. On and off a lot though.

Conner and Bart- (Okay listen, they need more love)- somehow works. If you touch Conner’s baby you will probably get thrown through a wall.

Garfield and Rachel- That’s my wife! She’s a bitch and I love her. He may be an idiot but he’s my idiot.

Harleen and Pamela- the lesbian teachers who might adopt you.

Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown- is honestly perfect for each other.

Kara Danvers and Querl Dox- most don't realize they're dating.

if you want to give ideas for it you can.

[4-horsemen-of-the-riordanverse]

Part One Part Two Part Four

EXT. - FRONT OF METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART - RAINING

Still shaking, Percy walks out of the museum. Thunder can be heard, but there is no lightning. Grover is sitting by the fountain, using a map to cover his head. Percy starts walking over to him, but Nancy stops him.

NANCY

I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt.

Percy stares at her, confused.

PERCY

Who?

NANCY

Our teacher, duh.

PERCY

What are you talking about?

NANCY

(Rolling eyes)

Idiot.

Nancy walks away as Grover walks over.

GROVER

You good?

Percy looks around the crowd, still visibly confused and scared.

PERCY

Where’s Mrs. Dodds?

Grover looks away from Percy, unable to look his friend in the eyes.

GROVER

Who?

PERCY

Not funny, man. This is serious.

Thunder booms loudly.

GROVER

I-I don’t know who you’re talking about.

Percy walks away from Grover.

GROVER

Percy.

Percy ignores Grover and continues looking around for Mrs. Dodds. He sees Chiron in the same spot he was before Percy went into the museum with Mrs. Dodds. Percy walks over to Chiron. Chiron looks up at Percy.

CHIRON

Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson.

PERCY

Oh.

Percy hands over riptide.

PERCY

Sir, where’s Mrs. Dodds?

Chiron stares at Percy blankly.

CHIRON

Who?

PERCY

The other chaperone, Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher.

Chiron frowns and looks at Percy with concern.

CHIRON

Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy.

PERCY

Yes there is. She’s been at Yancy since January. She was… she was on this field trip. She took me inside and-and she turned into… and you… you gave me… 

Percy points to riptide.

PERCY

-but it was a sword, but not a sword and-and…

CHIRON

Are you feeling alright?

PERCY

You were there.

CHIRON

Let’s get you on the bus. I see finals have been over stressing you. Perhaps some rest will help.

Percy picks at his nails.

PERCY

Yeah, alright sir.

Chiron escorts Percy to the bus.

MONTAGE

We watch Percy as he goes through the rest of the school year. Chaotic and lightning-less storms paint the background.

Percy sits in Mrs. Kerr’s class, he watches her with confused, but observate eyes.

Between classes, Percy brings up Mrs. Dodds, hoping to trip his classmates up, but he doesn’t.

At night, Percy has nightmares of the attack, waking him up night after night.

Grover acts weird around Percy, he won’t talk about Mrs. Dodds, it’s clear he knows something.

Percy becomes visibly more tired as the montage continues.

Percy tries studying, but can’t concentrate, nothing sticks.

Teachers hand Percy back his grades, they go from D’s to F’s.

Percy begins getting into fights with other students, like Nancy, and keeps landing in detention.

Mrs. Kerr is the detention teacher and Percy is put off by her being there. Nothing feels right.

INT. PERCY’S ENGLISH CLASS

Mr. Nicoll is handing back tests to his class. Percy, who looks half-asleep, is handed his test, a large red F written on it.

MR. NICOLL

If you were to actually apply yourself, your grades wouldn’t be this poor, Mr. Jackson.

PERCY

Sot.

Mr. Nicoll stops, turning back to Percy.

MR. NICOLL

Excuse me?

PERCY

I said sot.

MR. NICOLL

Headmaster’s office, now.

Percy drops his head.

INT. - HEADMASTER’S OFFICE

The headmaster sits behind his desk, looking over a file. Percy sits on the other side of the desk, waiting.

HEADMASTER

What exactly, Mr. Jackson, is a sot?

PERCY

I don’t know, but it felt right.

HEADMASTER

Do you know what feels right to me, expulsion.

(reading from the file)

Starting fights, selling candy to the other students, failing multiple classes, now disrespecting a teacher. You’ve made quite the list for yourself.

The headmaster sets the file down and looks at Percy.

HEADMASTER

You will finish out the last few days here, but you will not be returning next year, do you understand?

PERCY

Yes, sir.

HEADMASTER

You are dismissed.

INT. - DORM ROOMS - NIGHT

Percy is trying to study from a textbook, Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology. He tries to read it, using his finger to track the words, but nothing is sticking.

PERCY

This doesn’t make any sense!

Frustrated, Percy throws the book across the room. The book hits the wall and falls to the floor, opening to a page about the centaur Chiron. Percy paces his dorm, stressed, picking at his nails, trying to calm down.

Percy pauses, taking a deep breath. Looking over at the book on the floor. Percy walks over and picks the book up.

PERCY

I need Mr. Brunner’s help.

INT. - SCHOOL FACULTY HALLWAY

Percy walks down the dark hallway. Most of the rooms are dark and empty, but one a little ways down, Chiron’s office, has its lights on and the door is ajar. Percy walks towards it, but pauses just three steps short when he hears Grover’s voice coming from the office.

GROVER

… worried about him, sir.

Percy leans towards the door to hear better, but keeps out of sight.

GROVER

… alone this summer. I mean, a kindly one in the school! Now that we know for sure and they do too-

CHIRON

We would only make matters worse by rushing him. We need the boy to mature more.

GROVER

But he may not have time. The summer solstice deadline-

CHIRON

Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can.

GROVER

Sir, he saw her…

CHIRON

His imagination. The mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him of that.

GROVER

Sir, I… I can’t fail my duties again.

Pause.

GROVER

You know what I mean.

CHIRON

You haven’t failed, Grover. I should have seen her for what she was. Now let’s just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall-

Percy drops his book, but quickly picks it up and begins to back away. A large silhouette falls from the window, far taller than Grover or Chiron in his wheelchair. The silhouette seems to be holding something like an archer bow.

Percy opens up the closest door and slips inside, hiding behind the desk. A clopping sound can be heard getting closer and closer. The sound stops as the silhouette pauses in front of the window of the office Percy is hiding in. Percy trembles in fear.

CHIRON

Nothing. My nerves haven’t been right since the winter solstice.

GROVER

Mine neither, but I could have sworn…

CHIRON

Go back to the dorm, you’ve got a long day of exams tomorrow.

GROVER

Don’t remind me.

The light from Chiron’s room turns off, leaving everything dark. Percy waits for a moment before slowly exiting the office. Percy, standing in the door frame, looks to his right and left. The hall is empty. 

INT. - DORM ROOMS

Percy walks into the dorm, clearly still shaken. Grover is laying on his bed, studying his notes as if he had been there all night. Grover looks up as Percy walks in.

GROVER

Hey, you going to be ready for this test?

Percy looks over at Grover.

GROVER

You look awful. Is everything alright?

PERCY

Just...tired.

Percy turns his back to Grover and gets into bed, still in his day clothes, not caring. Grover looks at Percy solemnly.

[thebrewstorian]

“Maybe you’ve heard of her husband? Finding Louisa Weinhard.” The Zoom 2020 PCB-AHA presentation.

Last week I was supposed to give a presentation for the Pacific Coast Branch of the American Historical Association conference. That didn't work out... For the COVID-19 reasons. But we did make it work a week later on Zoom and it was terrific!

My talk focused on Louisa Weinhard. Here’s what I said. 

I started OHBA in 2013, the first of its kind in the country. 2013 is also when I met Peter Kopp [see photo above left bottom - Kopp is the author of Hoptopia: A World of Agriculture and Beer in Oregon's Willamette Valley] and we’re old hats at presenting together. Though usually we are in the same room. This talk, “Maybe you’ve heard of her husband? Finding Louisa Weinhard,” is based on an article for the Oregon Historical Quarterly I’m working on revisions for right now. I’m going to talk about women in brewing in Oregon, but first I want to talk about silence.

Archives and records repositories are filled with voices. We visit them to learn about our families, past actions of governments, and the activities of private organizations. But they are also spaces that reflect power and document the dominant narrative. Decisions are made by creators, by archivists, and by researchers about what to include and who to exclude – the result can be distortion, omission, and erasure. And so, for all the voices recorded in an archive, there are also many that have been silenced.

As anyone who has done historical research on women knows, their stories weren’t actually hidden, more often they were simply not recorded. The history of nineteenth century women’s work is often told through the story of husbands and sons. They were categorized as wives and mothers rather than business partners or owners. One issue I always cite when talking about researching women is the complications surrounding names: if their first name was recorded in newspapers (not just “Mrs.”), actually finding a maiden name to track genealogy often feels like luck.

Most (all) brewers in nineteenth century Oregon were men, but as I explored beer history more, I found the stories of early Oregon women and their work in brewing fascinating. In my research I found most women linked to breweries weren’t making beer, but I suspected they played an essential role in the businesses success (for example in running the household, child-minding, doing the books, participating in community events, etc.), and I knew that several ran the brewery for a time after their husband died.

I was preparing for an oral history in 2016 with Dana Garves, owner of BrewLab and former brewing chemist at Ninkasi, and I found a blog post she’d written called “Oregon’s First Women Brewers [1879-1908],” which included names and locations. I have since found photos of three of these women: Left to right is Fredericka Wetterer from Jacksonville, Mary Allen from Monument, and Marie Kienlen from southern Oregon. Garves also wrote about Theresa O’Brien from the north coast and Mary Mehl from the south coast. I added names of own, including Catherine Stahl and Frances Kastner from eastern Oregon; Margaret Beck from Capital Brewing in Salem, and Louisa Kiefer from Albany – she’s also Fredericka Wetterer’s sister.

But is there a way to determine the jobs they did or the role they played? I did a lot of online newspaper searching and onsite research in the places these women lived, and the short answer is no. Variables in terms of family structure, geographic location, brewery size, and available documentation make generalizations and specifics quite difficult. 

But Henry Weinhard? His is a pretty familiar name and his business was extremely successful. And I was certain researching his wife would be a snap. An easy win and good practice for future work on the other women I’d identified.

I was wrong.

It turned out records for the Weinhards are scant, mostly limited to newspaper articles and ads, government records, lawsuits, and, for Henry, glowing biographies in “books about great men.”

And so I dug.

This is Louisa, who had that very famous husband. Although she was famous in her own right for generosity, as well as her involvement in local church and aid societies, her legacy is marked by both details and silences.

Not to jump to the end of the story first, but the fact that I have this picture is a true testament to my Googling superpowers. I scoured archival collections, newspapers, and books looking for a picture of her, only to fail. Finally, using a string of search terms I can’t remember, I found a 2015 reference to a portrait in an article about the Portland Community College remodel. Days before I finished the first draft of my article, I emailed their Community Relations manager and she sent me a picture of the portrait. It sat on my desk and I saved it on my phone to show people who I was writing about. We have signed the paperwork to have this transferred to the collections at OSU – I was due to pick it up the week everything closed…

Luise Wagenblast was born in Germany in 1832. She lost her mother when she was four, traveled to Missouri at fifteen, arrived in the Northwest at twenty-three, and married a man who would become famous when she was twenty-seven. By the time she died at aged eighty-five, she’d buried her husband and four of her five children.

Through online genealogy sites and local history sources, I pieced together details about Louisa’s family’s move from Waldrems, Germany, a small town about 300 miles southwest of Berlin, to Missouri to Oregon. Although she travelled to Oregon by ship, her brother Gottlieb journeyed with the 1855 wagon train led by Dr. Wilhelm Keil, founder of Christian communal settlements in Bethel (Missouri) and Aurora (Oregon) – thanks to Peter’s dad James for his work on utopian communities in Oregon because it helped me tease out whether they were part of the colony or not. They weren’t.

Through government records, I learned when she was married to Henry and when her children were born. Census records and newspapers documented the family’s moves back and forth across the Oregon / Washington border. Through the census, I also learned about her neighbors, the ages of her children, and if she had servants living in her home. While dates and names are recorded, what isn’t is the scope of her loss, which feels immense. Her son Christian Henry died in 1863 at two years old and daughter Emma Augusta in 1864 at 18 months. Her daughter Bertha Carolina (Bettie) died in 1882 of acute appendicitis at 13. Henry died in 1904 of kidney disease. Just over a year later, daughter Louise Wagner died of heart disease at thirty-two. Only daughter Anna Wessinger, who lived to 87, survived Louisa.

However, mentions in newspaper articles gave me a significant, and somewhat intimate, glimpse into her life through her community activities. She sent roses to the 1903 Portland Rose Society annual rose show and thirty pounds of sugar to support unemployed men at the Gipsy Smith Tabernacle. She donated $100 to a benefit fund to purchase artificial legs for Marjorie Mahr, an actress who lost both legs in a railway accident. When thirteen-year-old Ervilla Smith arrived at the Weinhard house in the middle of the night in 1905 after being assaulted near the Lewis & Clark Exposition fairgrounds and left on the street by a saloon; the family welcomed her, called the doctor and the police, while “Mrs. Weinhard got her something to eat and made her comfortable for the night.” She was a member of the Portland Women's Union and sent money to the Louise Home for Unmarried Mothers and Albertina Kerr Nursery Home. And during the last weeks of her life, she offered money to a woman whose husband was in prison in California so she could visit him.

I have lots of stories that could expand and fill the rest of my time: things I found out about Louisa’s siblings; brewery owners, saloon keepers, gambling, prostitution, and vice; women’s clubs in Portland; or family real estate acquisitions. But since it’s where I found the most detail, I’m going to tell you about how Louisa used that wealth and her position at the end of her life.

In the years following Henry and Louise’s deaths, it is difficult to determine how involved Louisa was in the brewery and family estate business, perhaps no more than in name as an executrix of the estate. What is clear is that she continued to support her German community. The most significant was her donation of a twenty-acre lot in Southeast Portland, worth $30,000, to build a retirement facility for elderly Germans to spend their final years “among their own people.” The Altenheim was to be the “most important of its kind in the U.S.” Newspapers reported that she wanted residents to take advantage of fresh air, good water, and rich soil; and because she valued work, also wanted “helpful occupations for charges” and imagined the home would be partially self-supporting through farming. On August 6, 1911, with 2,000 people present, the cornerstone was laid, which contained pictures of Henry and Louisa, as well as copies of Portland’s German and other daily newspapers. Louisa’s great-grandson talking later about a picture in the newspaper of Louisa at the May 1912 dedication, in an open carriage with the mayor of Portland, described her as looking like queen Victoria, “very short and very fat.” That’s the picture you see here – a find made possible by the University of Oregon’s Historic Oregon Newspapers site. I learned more about Louisa from the news coverage for the Altenheim than in most previous articles about Henry or the business. Beyond a tone-deaf comment about her appearance, I learned that she valued work, self-sufficiency, and cultural traditions, but also that she was part of a community that felt isolated from the rest of Portland. What we don’t hear are her words – in all the press coverage regarding the Altenheim there isn’t a single quote from Louisa.

The Altenheim was closed in 2003 and the building housed the German American Society offices until the property was sold to Portland Community College in 2010. And that’s where her portrait is waiting for me!

Louisa died in Portland on April 23, 1918 and was buried at the River View Cemetery. She was eighty-five years old, had been in America for seventy-one years and Portland for sixty-three. News of her death was carried in several papers.

W.G. Maclaren, General Superintendent Pacific Coast Rescue and Protective Society, wrote a letter to the editor that was an unfettered tribute to her good works and the hidden nature of her charity. He said that during the hard times of 1907, she bought $100 worth of tickets for the Portland Commons, and distributed them among “men who were out of work and in need of food and lodging.” He went on “She gave me orders that I was not to allow any unfortunate person to go away hungry and agreed to meet the expenses of feeding them.” He continued, “there never was a case of a mother or child in sickness or distress that Mrs. Weinhard knew of where she would not give assistance” and concluded she was a “good woman with one of the best hearts where human suffering was concerned that I have ever known. I believe that the people of Portland should know something of what she did during her long residence in this city for the benefit of Humanity.”

This last sentence feels like a final reminder that she gave freely to charitable causes and individual people, not for personal recognition (and maybe not for our historical record) but for the purpose of bettering others.

In researching Louisa, I found a handful of touchingly personal details that I couldn’t verify. The Weinhards supposedly had a house in Astoria and a farm of 620 acres in Yamhill County. An Oregonian article, written in 1954 when Louise Weinhard Wagner's home was being demolished, noted a 4-foot stained glass window with a woman sipping from a wine glass, said to have been installed by Louisa Weinhard as a gift with the house. The names Henry and Louise/a are handed down to subsequent generations in their family. And Louisa herself was immortalized in Brewery Block Two, a 242-unit high-rise residential building built on the location of the original Weinhard brewery in Portland.

But the last bit of sparkle to this story is a connection I made with one of her descendants on ancestry.com. I found Lizzie Hart, her great+ granddaughter, which had pictures of Louisa’s granddaughter and Lizzie’s grandmother. I wrote her and said “I’m an archivist. I have this picture of your relative and I’ve written this article about her, would you like either?” Fortunately, she wasn’t creeped out by this... 

Instead, through our ongoing correspondence she has given me a more personal perspective on the Weinhard family and validated my work in this area. My research has added a dimension both the story of the women in her family and in her own personal understanding of how she fits into it. Her family story was the story of men. 

I can’t end with a quote from Louisa, but I can end with one from Lizzie “What you are doing in your work -- the recovery of women's stories, painstaking as it may be to grapple in the dark room of the dominant narrative -- is such an important task to undertake on behalf of our futures.”

***

For more on archival silence, see 

Carter, Rodney G.S. 2006. “Of Things Said and Unsaid: Power, Archival Silences, and Power in Silence”. Archivaria 61 (September), 215-33. https://archivaria.ca/index.php/archivaria/article/view/12541.