#pishposh

[pedros-immaculate-vibes]

Head Canon: HALSIN HIDES HOW HE FEELS ABOUT SHIT

if it’s positive, he’s INCREDIBLY open and willing to share,

if it’s a neutral stance on something, still willing to share, just maybe not as overt

if it’s something negative, (unless it’s imminently dangerous) you kind of have to pry it out of this man.

Unless it’s about Goblins or civilization ruining the freedom nature intended all to have.

BUT LIKE IF ITS A NEGATIVE PERSONAL EXPERIENCE???

NAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

That man is LOCKED. DOWN.

[fisheito]

So I was looking at waiter Yakumo and noticed that he had wavy hair. His hair straight normally so who was the one who curled his hair? DOES KLEIN EVEN HAVE CURLING IRONS???? Anyways all of this is to say please imagine Eiden helping Yakumo get ready and that involves putting those old timey curlers in Yakumo's hair before he went to bed so he can have curls the next morning

uhdisomFINMF u are making me IMAGINE!!!!!! yakumo about to apply for the job and wondering if he should present himself a certain way eiden going ;))) you look sexy with your hair pushed back ;))) (but before yakumo can stutter out his embarrassment) eiden gives him the very encouraging "but for real i think you look great as you are!! <3" then aster crashes onto the scene and announces that he will not have his servants treasured colleagues looking anything less than PEAK presentable!!!!! *whips out the old timey pink hair curlers*

[hellishgayliath]

hopping on the bandwagon of giving casey jr an emotional support dog cuz he deserves it

and also a potential comic that im working on that involves her but that’s neither here or there pishposh

[charliemwrites]

Distressed Dilf is given a key to your house literally a week after meeting, 'sorry it took so long kept forgetting to make a copy!' Which. What? Why are you trusting this RANDOM MAN?! 'Pishposh we're neighbors! What if I fall in the shower?', you say doubting this man's ability or inclination to bust a door in. 😐 You're the embodiment of every cautionary tale and its baffling that nothings happened to you (yet)

Distressed DILF finds you precariously perched on a ladder. When he asks what you’re doing, you cheerfully reply that you thought you saw a bat!

Realizes he’s morosexual in that moment.

[melkyt]

Tara rests on Astarions' shoulder, having switched somewhere halfway through their walk through this forest that can be best described as dark and spooky. Vampires and their dramatic attention to aesthetics make this place feel like less of a threat to Gale. It is just objectively funny.

They notice a shed, or maybe a small house to the side. It's hard to make it out in the haze. Gale, with a gentle tap, points it out "Let's take a break. I am getting mighty peckish"

Astarion takes a breath, forced and stilted from dead lungs, which is just a further hint at how nervous he is, the closer they get to Cazadar's 'lair' or secondary lair. It was a lot of semantics covered in a short time, and with everything else going on, Gale can't say he was listening.

The door creaks, warped from the damp fog. Inside is a foyer that is as fine as one in Waterdeep. Does not fit the muck outside. Gale has half a mind to take his shoes off. His mother did teach him well but that would be too much respect to show Cazador. Whose portrait, almost larger than the room hangs in the center between two curling staircases.

Astarion freezes, unsteady shaking eyes looking at his old master's face. His hands shake, and he clasps them just not to show the pulsing fear. Gale has seen him in a worse state before, but it is a habit. One must never show fear.

Tara curls tighter around him, nuzzling his cheek. Since they met, she has taken to the young vampire. "Is that the bastard?" She casts a gaze at the painting, less than impressed. "Is that current?"

Astarion swallows, nodding. He is trying with every fiber to regain his composure. It is not working. Gale is back at his side, tilting his head as he reaches a handout. Astarion nods once again to show that he is okay with touch and that he needs it even. Gale wraps the man into a hug. Astarion hides his face in the folds of the purple tunic, its fabric travel-worn and rough to the skin, but he is past the point of caring. Low sniffles escaping his throat are muffled, and Astarion is glad for it.

"Pishposh. That's a vampire lord?" She snorts, stepping from Astarion's shoulders to Gale, spreading her wings to cover the ghastly portrait. "Don't even have his wings yet. That's just a weak little brat playing at Lord,"

Astarion chokes back a sniffle, looking up, a brow raised.

"Quite so Mr. Anacuin." Tara does not need him to voice his disbelief. "See with age every self-respecting vampire leaves behind their mortal form and changes accordingly" She looks over at the painting. "This boy isn't even a millennia, please." Tara huffs, settling down, her wings all ruffled.

Astarion laughs, it's weak at first but then turns genuine. The idea of *Cazador* being called a boy in the way a mother would chide her toddler is the best thing he has heard in his two hundred years of life.

"It's good to see you laugh" Gale reassuringly squeezes the man's shoulders. "Thanks, Tara." He nods at the Tressym

"My pleasure. Mr. Dekarios" Her fur bristles and a purr builds. "Now, you two head upstairs while I do much-needed redecorating." There is a glint of mischief in her eye, and claws sink into Gale's tunic, pulling strands loose.

"Are you good with staying here?" Gale brushes strands of hair away from those red tear-stained eyes.

"Yes, of course, darling" He still shoots an uneasy glance at the large portrait. "It very much beats *camping*"

Gale chuckles, turning so that one arm is still around Astarion, and his body is blocking Cazador's smug face. That is how they walk upstairs of this much too fancy house.

(Little scene I wanted to jot down that will go in my fic here eventually :3)

[slady-ao3]

Let’s hear your top favorite Leo and Raph moments it can be for any iteration. Let’s make challenging one from each iteration lol then we can do some sweet Donnie x mikey moments XD

Top favorite Leo and Raph moments from each iteration? Gotcha!

(Maybe not 'top' per se, but I'll mention some significant ones.)

'87: (Disclaimer- I need to watch the entire series, so this is limited.)

Off the top of my head, I'd say it's S2E1 when Raphael called Leonardo "Fearless Leader" for the first time. Technically, Michelangelo referred to him as "o fearless leader" first but Raphael kept it going so this set a precedent. This same episode is when Leo starts dealing with the seriousness of responsibility.

90s: Leo's vigil over Raph during his coma and the moment he woke up. Leo is anxious and Raph is calm, seeing them balance each other even with their usual temperament was touching.

2k3: I've only watched the series fully once and there are so many good moments of connectivity, but a powerful time was during Leo's PTSD arc in Season 4. Everyone in the family were stressed out because the calm one wasn't at peace, but none more than Raph. There were so many comments from others about how Leo was acting like Raph, to the point Raph finally tried to "have words about this attitude" of Leo acting like Raph. (So similar to my 90s moment of the two balancing each other by alternating their normal personalities.)

2007: As much as I and most everyone else were like, "what the heck was THAT?" about the rooftop fight, my top moment was Raph rescuing Leo. When Raph handed him the set of swords saying he will need these only for Leo to turn to him and reply that he needs him too... again, similar to my 90s moment of the two when Leo was telling Raph how he needs him.

2012: So many good moments here, from the little hand thing they do in S1E4 during the whole A-team vs B-team episode to all the times Raph apologizes to Leo... but my top is when they flipped my favorite 90s moment (hmm starting to think this was a pivotal scene for me). Like when I say I was just absolutely ecstatic at the throwback... I was absolutely ecstatic! Since they condensed three months into less than three minutes, reading fanfics on insight into that time is one of my favorite tropes.

2014/2016 (Bay): Two moments tie. One, when Raph threatens one day he will leave and Leo has to reassure the younger two that he isn't going anywhere and just glares at him- it makes me laugh. Second, when Raph finds all three of them in the lab and only calls out to Leo- it makes me smile.

2018/Rise: During the movie, Leo's apology to Raph. During the series, is much harder because they have so many cute moments so here's my top three:

3) Leo calling Raph 'Big Daddy' during "Clothes Don't Make the Turtle" - it literally made my jaw drop.

2) Leo saying he's been on "Team Raph" this whole time and Raph smiles giving him a fist bump replying, "My turtle! Member since day one." (One Man's Junk)

1) Pretty much the entire "Down with the Sickness" episode- from watching Raph play DDR while Leo is distracting him to the way Leo babbles encouragement up to the ending when Leo ruins things rushing to give Raph a hug after calling him "my little Raph-a-doodle!" I literally watch this every time I'm sick because it cheers me up!

>>"Raphael, I love you, my brother, but you do tend to fail in big moments. Pishposh! But that’s what makes you, you! Now bring it in, buddy! I’m gonna hug you till a smile comes out!"<<

[babbelswoofominides]

I can't be the only one who's tired of the "Everything is Problematic™" culture that we're currently experiencing, right? I'm talking about the "call out" posts where people say shit like "if you still like Harry Potter you're a transphobic asshole and worse than JKR!". This over simplifications dilute the meaning of "transphobe", and the actual transphobes benefit from the loss of importance that this accusation carries.

People think they're being so intelligent when creating these ever-changing, pointless rules: "don't buy from Zara, or you support genocide!", "don't listen to Taylor Swift, or you endorse climate change!". I've heard it all. If it takes so little to be labeled as such a horrible person, people will dismiss the whole problem. How can they take you seriously if you say these things un-ironically? Also, it's uncanny how these radicalized """activists""" sometimes overlap beautifully with the far-right wing politics. Take anti-shippers who want to police fanfictions: their idea of "regulation" (censorship) aligns perfectly with the far-right bigots.

And if a problem is just mildly severe, to show you care about it you don't need to get Big Mad. There is a whole sea of annoyance in between silent acceptance and full blown rage (which is rarely productive if not directed wisely). I'm wary of performative rage over trivial matters, because it rings hollow, like the person is more interested in virtue signaling to their peers than actually doing something concrete about it. Even if it's a Big Problem, raging left and right can be powerful but short lived.

I think this is the problem with today's activism: short lived bursts of rage don't cover it. You need to work, work, work. Even silently, even with no social recognition. Activism shouldn't be a stage where you perform an angry speech, everyone claps and you're now Morally Sound. That's how far right wing nutters operate: get Big Mad about every thing (whether big or trivial), Perform your Anger, rinse and repeat. The difference is they probably know what they're doing, creating a climate of perennial anger. They know how to direct that anger to the vote. They make a mountain out of a mole hill so that it's easier to solve the made up problem, thus creating cohesiveness. Meanwhile, left wing "activists" making up new rules and moving the goal posts are just creating problems whose solution just furthers the divide. Finding enemies everywhere, inside and outside of our circles, is not useful*.

That's why this left-wing "activism" often morphs into a witch hunt: people feel powerless, so making up new rules to follow and hunting down the "infidels" gives them the illusion they're doing enough. Take the campaign against JKR: boycotting anything HP is not enough, the goal posts are moved every time. Now you're promoting transphobia if you partake in HP's fandom (almost no one talks about why JKR is fucking problematic anymore, so the "normies" will hear this kind of outlandish shit and dismiss the whole matter as internet pishposh).

Instead of keeping up the battle against the actual transphobes, which can feel frustrating because they seem untouchable, you settle on hounding anyone who doesn't adhere to the made up rules that become more and more strict. Or even worse: you don't accept someone's help against the terfs unless they adhere strictly to the made up rules.

Eerie how on one side they're ready to accept actual human violation rights, meanwhile the other side can't even accept that some people are against terfs but may still like HP, and so schism after schism happens. That's why left wing activists lack cohesiveness. They can't accept you're not a bad person or a terf if you think slightly different from them. No one collaborates with the other anymore.

HP is just one of the many examples that describe this mechanism. Apply this to all modern politics and you've got the root of the matter. ---

*Ironically, far-right wing nutters are more cohesive because they tolerate anyone in their group, they act like One Big Solid Unity against the rest of the world. That's why you'll see terfs shack up with nazis and misogynists, if it means they will get rid of trans people. Chilling to the bone, but their strategy is effective in keeping their ranks united, because at the moment they're only lashing outside, not inside. It'll of course be a harsh wake up call when the leopards eat their face lmao. Also, what I'm saying is not "tolerate Actual Bad People to win a battle", but: "get angry at the Actual Bad People, don't invent new enemies!" ---

I don't know how to end this, and it's not lost on me how complaining about complainers makes me a complainer too lmao, but sometimes a rant is just a rant and you need to vent.

[faerie-goddess]

ignore the haters. i LOVED the modern-day spin on Much Ado About Nothing that Anyone But You gave. it also had a perfectly campy film aspect that made the film itself even more funny. i loved that they inserted direct quotes from the play in the scenery and props - in case you missed it!!! (written in the sand, the title of the book by the pool, etc) the way the relatives would perform fake talks to manipulate Bea and Ben reminded me of the performance of Much Ado About Nothing i saw myself years ago at THE American Shakespeare Center's Blackfriars Playhouse. i found it well done. there were small, very cringe moments like any dramedy film, and that is to be expected imo. i found the acting to be well done, regardless. it was fun, not to be taken seriously, and hilare. exactly like the play. pishposh to the critics i say

[tf2heritageposts]

FLASHING LIGHTS WARNING -> https://www.tumblr.com/toon-kirby/691305377723252736/owlsinalake-meet-the-heavy-kirisakin-why-would

https://www.tumblr.com/bake-mono/691770923394711552

https://www.tumblr.com/screamydreamy/687497045148352512

https://www.tumblr.com/phillip-bankss/665076728392269824/i-had-a-dream-the-other-night-where-valve

https://www.tumblr.com/pedanticluddite/658465138177884160

https://www.tumblr.com/hatechip/633950697537355776

https://www.tumblr.com/screamydreamy/653028619321573376

https://www.tumblr.com/giddlygoat/671522148922294272/i-made-a-bracelet-with-this-on-it-because-i-think

https://www.tumblr.com/wired-mk/646115868761374720/fabulousqueenofqueer-can-someone-make-an-audio

https://www.tumblr.com/screamydreamy/640334003976765441

https://www.tumblr.com/screamydreamy/638663704086544384

https://www.tumblr.com/kirboob/190429402495

https://www.tumblr.com/screamydreamy/615040295361495040/theres-this-one-part-of-the-tf2-wiki-thats-like?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/screamydreamy/613413424930684928/haha-get-it-because-its-never-gonna-co?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/bigstupiduglyogre/190121808567

https://www.tumblr.com/vzm/190450734625

https://www.tumblr.com/screamydreamy/189681363903

https://www.tumblr.com/screamydreamy/189469418978

https://www.tumblr.com/deerskewl/188594339145/straight-friend-groups-be-like-blonde-girl

https://www.tumblr.com/3lixar/188684907382

https://www.tumblr.com/a-single-slice-of-toast/651651307384471552/sunsona-bewwysorbet-sn0wbro

https://www.tumblr.com/astral-glass/171541856218

https://www.tumblr.com/kittensnax/181699777492

https://www.tumblr.com/neo-space-foundation-x/175456264999/bluehawk54-captainsnoop-remember-how-in-tf2

https://www.tumblr.com/blogismovedxx/174446068984/p-e-r-i-s-h

https://www.tumblr.com/pacificrim/173662069523/pacificrim-funniest-comment-in-the-world-to-me

https://www.tumblr.com/hyenadip/173861999177/the-life-of-a-heavy-main

https://www.tumblr.com/screamydreamy/174120134398/sn0wbro-sn0wbro-sn0wbro-anyway-the-red?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/left4tails/172806841078/just-got-the-game-where-are-we-dropping-bois

https://www.tumblr.com/publiusvirgiliamaro/170521399801/this-truly-has-been-the-best-super-bowl-yet

https://www.tumblr.com/silence-caravan/666378369024278528/thesoundthisimagemakes

https://www.tumblr.com/nastyukulele/167632481932/sharkbutte-of-all-the-things-ive-contributed-to

https://www.tumblr.com/thefiddles/166582998337/1-800-are-you-slappin

https://www.tumblr.com/leaf-fall-down/166414081549/testsubject276-harryhenry1

https://www.tumblr.com/acoolguy/165601249580/there-are-only-two-generations-team-fortress

https://www.tumblr.com/pishposh-haberdash/186472502575/knight-vision-goggles-pishposh-haberdash

https://www.tumblr.com/inkythealien/173493486990/open-rp

https://www.tumblr.com/dailypicturesofscout/59128026906/tiny-meet-the-scout

https://www.tumblr.com/nopakun/185401889571/behold-the-silliest-and-most-incredibly

https://www.tumblr.com/zxid/84534445589/i-love-this-doctor-jadore-ce-docteur-me

https://www.tumblr.com/screamydreamy/161816277708/byou-abandoned-your-family-and-hoshido-now

https://www.tumblr.com/jojje94/135650967434/other-articles-this-issue-newly-joined-player

https://www.tumblr.com/screamydreamy/160806656678/ubercharge-cabonet-ghoulsjw-2foooooort-and?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/cartoons-with-lauw/184706143284/update-you-still-cant-see-shit

https://www.tumblr.com/rbb-archived-blog/160554463334/i-fixed-symmetras-teleporter

https://www.tumblr.com/ruecian/91096859481

https://www.tumblr.com/sile-animus/157479586062/valve

https://www.tumblr.com/troutstuff/150421359565

https://www.tumblr.com/swarnpert/152774205415/i-arrive-at-the-2fort

https://www.tumblr.com/void-lich/147732993713

https://www.tumblr.com/screamydreamy/142959470658

https://www.tumblr.com/auttoton/118791298978/cute-things-to-say-during-sex

https://www.tumblr.com/doctorneocortex/142054296254/ben-just-found-these-at-the-thriftstore-oh-my

https://www.tumblr.com/screamydreamy/136634034709/a-bloody-fruit-shop-owner-touhoureblogs

https://www.tumblr.com/dailypicturesofscout/106386466808

holy fucking shit

[highspeedclownery]

Moonriver

Fandom: Sherlock

Warnings: Character Death, Major Angst

Pairings: Implied Johnlock

Notes: I wrote this pre-s4 using inspo from trailers etc

Sherlock hadn't really thought about it before, but he really loathes hospitals. Despite spending hours there for his own research through the years, he cannot really stand the bright lighting, the gleaming white, sterile environment. The light really brought out everyone's worse features and he is sure he must look a state by the way Molly is looking at him. Pity, sorrow, and underlying hint of anger - all this he can see, conveyed by her eyes. His fingers quiver on their ascent to scratch at his jaw, weeks of neglecting to reach for the razor blade has left him with itchy stubble peppering his face. 

"Show me." He repeats. Even his voice sounds rough to his own ears.

Molly can see that her attempts to turn Sherlock away are futile. Not for the first time, she berates herself for not being that little bit more confident. Legally, she doesn't have to show Sherlock and she would do anything to get out of this situation, but looking at him stood there, an already defeated man clinging to his composure, what else can she do? Wordlessly, she turns to the trolley and folds back the sheet, revealing the cadaver beneath. Her eyes close, face slightly crumpling as she fights to remain professional. She expects to hear a sob, a wail and somehow that would be better than the silence and stillness that engulfs the room. Sucking in a breath, she dares to open her eyes and in that moment, she wishes that she didn't.

Contorted in horror, Sherlock's features are void of colour, eyes stricken and disbelieving. His lips part but no sound comes out. Molly cannot keep the tears at bay as she watches him lift his hands to face, covering his mouth and for a moment she thinks he might be sick. Instead he trembles, his breath finally coming out in tremulous bursts between his fingers. He's shaking his head, still no words though and Molly covers the body up again quickly.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry..."

He's backing away now, eyes moist with unshed. Doubling over as if in severe pain, a strangled sound breaks his silence. Molly is at his side in an instant. Sherlock shakes his head again and pulls himself away, blindly turning towards the exit, staggering away, deaf to Molly's pleas to wait. He leaves the hospital in a blurred frenzy, tumbling through the dark streets with no real destination in mind. The rest of the world fizzes away, leaving him with just himself and an indescribable pain.

His feet carry him to a residential area, where his pace slows as numbness takes over. His head spins and he grasps onto a lamppost for support before continuing, not stopping again until he reaches a sheltered bus stop. Here he collapses on the hard plastic bench, body pressed against the back wall. 

"Oh dear, you've got yourself into a right state now." 

Sherlock stills. That woman's voice sounds oddly familiar...

"When was the last time you had a shave?"

Familiar or not, Sherlock is not in the mood for conversation of any kind. "Go away."

The voice sighs. "Oh pishposh, there'll be plenty of time to go away later. At least let me see your face."

An irritated knot forms between Sherlock's brows as he turns to glare at the woman. "Who exactly are you?" He snaps and then to his surprise, she simply laughs, smiling fondly at him. 

Cold ice prickles underneath his skin at that sound. He knows that sound very well. He gazes back at the woman and this time, really looks. Age, possibly late thirties - early forties. Long hair, red dress, crutch, glasses... he squints a little harder and she helps by removing her glasses. His breath catches in his throat. 

No. This isn't.. Did he fall and hit his head?

"Sherlock," she scolds playfully. "I thought you're supposed to be clever."

"M-Mrs Hudson?" Those were definitely her eyes but, how? Is he hallucinating? Did he fall and hit his head?

"Yes dear. Although, I was just Martha back when I was this spring chicken you see before you. Not bad, hey?" She smiles and it's even more clear that this is his landlady. No one can replicate that smile. It doesn't stop his nerves from being shaken however. He had just seen the real Mrs Hudson at the hospital, lifeless and certainly not smiling. He slides away slightly on the seat. "You're dead."

Martha pulls a face at that. "I suppose I am. It happens to the best of us, there isn't any avoiding it. Anyway, I brought us some chips because I don't care about ruining my figure and you look like you're wasting away." Reaching into her bag, Martha brings out two trays of chips, handing one to Sherlock who hasn't stopped staring. "Come on, eat."

The tray of food is warm in his lap and he finally drags his gaze away his young landlady to unwrap his chips. He eats robotically and from the way his stomach churns, he concedes that maybe it's high time he did eat. He can feel Mrs Hudson's eyes on him, feel the warmth of her pleased smile and he manages a small, nervous smile in return. I am truly losing my mind, he thinks to himself. This is not a situation he would ever imagine himself being in and the whole evening, right from hearing the tragic news of Mrs Hudsons death, has been surreal. A living nightmare.

"I used to live around here." Martha gestures to the dimly lit houses. "I never did spend too much time at home mind. I liked to go out and experience life. I've been around the block a few times. I was a really catch in my twenties did you know?" She laughs and points to her crutch. "Of course I wasn't so much hip-hop as hip-op." Sherlock grimaces at the terrible pun which makes her laugh more. "..and you know all about my husbands."

"And your girlfriend." Sherlock adds with a conspiratorial arch of the brow.

"Ah yes, good old Mags. She had seven cats - lovely little things but shed everywhere. We had our first date not far from here, come on I'll show you." Martha is already up before Sherlock can protest and so he follows, falling into step beside her, both still picking at their chips. Their walk takes them to a pedestrian bridge that stretches across the Thames, light conversation of days gone by filling the otherwise quiet. Martha does most of the talking, Sherlock simply listening, still feeling numb and disconnected from himself. She tells him of her youthful escapades, her ups and downs, the faces she has met and the places she has been. It is with some regret, that Sherlock realises he didn't know Mrs Hudson as well as he should have.

After discarding their empty trays into a bin, Martha loops her arm through Sherlock's and leans into him slightly. He finds he doesn't mind. It makes him feel a grounded while the world wants to throw him off his feet. After walking a little further in companionable silence, Sherlock finds his voice. "Why are you here?"

Martha stops and turns to him, her eyes shine with fondness but there's a lingering sadness there too. "Because you're lonely, Sherlock. You're unhappy."

"I'm fine." It's an automatic response, something he's well versed in saying. He looks off, away into the distance. 

"I only wish that were the truth but it's clear to everyone that cares about you that you're not. Far from it. You haven't been for a while, have you?"

"Why are you doing this?" The distress strains his voice and he looks at her pleadingly.

"Sherlock, I don't want you to give up. Don't give up on him. He makes you happy, you come alive when he's around. Everything's a big old mess, I know, but don't do this to yourself."

Beside her, Sherlock bristles slightly, shoulders pulling rigid. 

"I've seen the way you look at him, like he's the most precious thing in the world. I notice -"

"But he chose her!" Sherlock had meant to sound angry but his words falter as his voice cracks. A sharp exhale follows and he's turning his back, blinking away tears. "He chose her and she's going to hurt him. I don't know how, I don't know when but its coming and I don't know if I can watch him break again." 

"Now listen here Sherlock Holmes." Martha rounds on him, a sternness that reminds him of his own mother in her eyes. "I have put up with a lot over the years but I cannot watch you hurt yourself like this. That Mary or whatever her real name is, when she hurts John, when he 'breaks' you're going to be there. You're going to take John and put him back together again. That's what you do for people you love."

"What if I can't?"

"Love always finds a way, Sherlock. It may take time, these things always do but in the end, it's always you two isn't it? John is worth that isn't he?" 

Sherlock nods. He had already worked out many moons ago that he would lay down and die for John Watson. The man had walked into his life and turned it upside down and inside out. He took a real, unguarded interest in Sherlock's life instead of sneering and calling him a freak. John Watson is extraordinary and holds Sherlock's fascination more than any bacterial growth on a slide ever could. Before John, there was nothing but a sea of faces and a suffocating need for something more to fill the ever-present void. Life was bleak, he was alone. John saved him, in many ways and life without him is.. unthinkable. 

"He might not want.. it might be too much." There have been times when Sherlock has seen glimpse of returned affection from John but nothing solid enough to ease his mind and any hope of something more between them was crushed with the arrival of Mary. 

"If you keep running away and keeping him in the dark, I agree with you dear." Martha says bluntly. "You've been keeping him at a distance and he doesn't understand why. He's upset, Sherlock. He's been wondering if you're using again, he's worried. Forget about Mary, cross that road when you get to it, just talk to him. Let him know you're still here."

Sherlock turns to rest his arms on the railings and looks down at the dark waters below. It looks oddly inviting. He swallows. "It's not just Mary though. There's the baby as well."

"Not John's."

A moment of stunned silence. "How?"

"A woman knows, Sherlock."

"...that will kill him." The revelation sends a trickle of fear down his spine and just as quickly, a flare of anger has him gripping the rails so hard his knuckles turn white. "How could she do this to him? Is it not enough that -" He swallows thickly again. "How did I not know? And John? He's a doctor!" 

Martha's hand covers his own and she squeezes gently. "These things happen and that is why John needs you and you're going to be there for him." 

Blinking, Sherlock sags, suddenly feeling exhausted and drained. For the next few minutes the pair remain resting against the rails, looking out across the Thames. The future had always been uncertain for Sherlock but back in the old days, he only had himself to account for and honestly, he saw no future for himself. The thought of sending himself to sleep and never waking up had invaded his mind many a lonely night and it would have been a likely outcome had Mike not walked in with John that fateful day. Fate isn't something Sherlock would normally consider since it didn't follow any rules and defied logic. There was no science behind it and yet somehow, it's comforting to think some higher power may have intervened in his downward spiral. Maybe it is fate that Mrs Hudson is here with him now while her body lies cold on a sterile trolley. 

Allowing his eyes to close, Sherlock basks in peace that her presence brings, no matter how fleeting it may be, he wants to cherish this. The distant city sounds are muted enough for him to appreciate the gentle lapping of water and the whisper of a breeze. Then another sound drifts to his ears and lifting his head, he realises it's not his imagination. He can hear music. Violin and piano. He knows the melody well. Moonriver. The music is hauntingly beautiful and tears once again fill the rims of his eyes. This is one of the songs he learned especially for Mrs Hudson for her birthday.

She taps his arm.

"I have to go soon dear but before I do, dance with me?" She looks at him, a bright smile on her face despite the wetness of her eyes. How can he deny her?

Sniffing, he takes her hand and guides her away from the railings. With one hand resting on her waist he waits for her to mirror him and then they begin. It's as easy as breathing. They float gracefully, their movements fluid and practiced. The music carries them and for the first time in a long while, Sherlock feels lighter. He smile through the tears that track down his cheeks, treasures Mrs Hudsons laughs as he swoops and dips her. It's a wonderful, liberating feeling. 

Time is lost as they dance, the notes of moon river seeming to go on forever. Sherlock doesn't want it to end, dancing is a passion he rarely gets to enjoy. The last time he danced.. was teaching John. His smile wavers.

"Sherlock. You know I have to go, don't you?"

Wait. No. Not yet! He wants to plead and that heavy feeling returns with full force, stealing his breath and squeezing his heart.

"Don't look at me like that. You know I don't like to see you upset." The music fades and their dance comes to halt. Martha cups his face and wipes at his tears. "Do you know, I always wanted children. It was always one of my biggest regrets but you Sherlock, I always saw you like a son. I love you like you were my own flesh and blood. My handsome, clever boy." She presses a kiss to his cheek as a small sob escapes him.

"I want you to know that you are loved by more people than you think. I want you to look after yourself, talk to John. Don't give up on him, never give up. You both deserve happiness and I know it's not out of reach. Go easy on that brother of yours too. I don't agree with everything he does but I know underneath all that ice, he cares for you. Promise me Sherlock."

"...I'm so scared." He admits, sobbing and shuddering, his throat tight and chest heavy.

"I know darling, but it's going to alright. It really is. You just need to let go, alright?"

"I'm going to miss you so much."

"I'm going to miss you too. John as well but you know I'm always going to be here." She places her palm against his chest where his heart is somehow still beating. Then her arms are circling him and embraces her back, eyes squeezing tightly shut.

When he opens them again, he is alone.

A pain rips through him, hot and sharp and doubles over, a scream tearing from his throat as he clutches his chest. His knees buckle and he sinks to the floor, the world crashing down around him.

He doesn't know how much time has passed when his phone trills in his pocket. A call. It takes a moment for his eyes to focus on the screen.

John.

Habit tells him to ignore it, like he has many times before but Mrs Hudson's face flickers in his mind and he steels himself to accept the call. He promised her. He's going to do this. He presses the green button.

"Sherlock? Oh thank god. Thank god. I've just had word of Lestrade. I can't believe - where are you?.. Sherlock?"

"I'm coming home."

[metaladam]

" oh, pishposh, okay. well ! no need to swallow fruit skin whole. i find you perfectly entertaining enough as you are. you have my attention. care to keep it ? "

" Oh no! I have done my entertaining! I think its your turn! Do something weird with a fruit."

[unlikelyfalconrhythms]

Why Season 2 of Our Flag Means Death is better than the S2 of Good Omens (in my opinion)

I'm so excited by the fact that the architype of southern pansy (British southern) with a light-hearted mishmash slang that's positively tickety-boo to a tee is now sort of in made popular in fandoms by TV shows such as Our Flag Means Death and Good Omens. Both shows have male leads of very genuine and old-timey charm and elegance, I'm of course talking about the modern interpretation of the gentleman pirate Stede Bonnet and the absolute angel Aziraphale.

I've lived of and breathed that particular breed of dialect, and the mindset that comes with it, for years, mostly through the influence of the great British Humorist P. G. Wodehouse and all sorts of works of romantized snobbish pishposh foppishness akin. I love that kind of old school fancy-pantsy pansiness. I just love it. It makes me feel more accepted to be a feminine creature living on this planet and trying to coexist with others. It makes me more at ease with being feminine and loving it.

But why do I think the successor to the first series of OFMD is more succesful compared to the continuation to the first batch of Good Omens, I haven't yet revealed in this entry. You may have to read the NEXT post to find out. Cause I think I may never get that far in this one.

[ourfag]

thinking about ed asking stede if he’s ever considered getting assessed for adhd and stede saying “that’s funny, mary’s always said the same thing!” so ed’s like “so you think there’s something to it then?” and stede calls the idea pishposh because “last week i became so completely absorbed in the nuances of geordi and data’s relationship on star trek that i forgot to turn off the oven for six hours and nearly set the house on fire now does that sound like a person with an attention deficit to you?” and ed is like fuck i cant not marry him