#so true landlady

[yolothh]

Viktor really meant the "in all timelines, in all possibilities" line BECAUSE IT'S OUR TIMELINE TOO! THEY EXISTED!

Please take a moment and let me introduce you to: Giacomo Leopardi and Antonio Ranieri's partnership.

Leopardi was an italian poet, author, philosopher and philologist. He is an important figure in Romantic literature (albeit, he did criticize the Romantic worldviews).

All throughout his life he suffered from a debilitating chronic illness (juvanile ankylosing spondylitis) that had him suffer horrendously from a young age, until it eventually took his life in 1837, when he was 39 years old.

He dedicated most of his life to studies, translating old tomes, writing poems and treaties diverting on humanity's degeneration from our glorious past to our suffering present. He exhorted modern folks to take action against the unjust present, aiming to a revolution of our pitiful condition.

In 1827 Leopardi meets Antonio Ranieri a young man that is described (verbatim) as a "very young and handsome in person and spirit".

Ranieri had been exiled from his city during his youth, because of his excessively liberal views in regards to politics.

The two become very close friends, but it's in 1830 that their "partnership" (literally, not making this up, Ranieri himself wrote a book about it if you care to check it out "Seven years of partnership with Giacomo Leopardi") starts. They move together from Firenze to Naples and Ranieri attends to Leopardi's every wish (noted that this man was a fanatic for sweets) paying with money from his own pocket.

Now, friendship at the time was different than what it is now, and they might’ve been very close friends, yes. But I'll give you some words from their letters and what Ranieri wrote down in his book and leave it to your judgment.

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

Ranieri, Naples, 1833:

"I- left my own bed- used to sleep in a room that was not mine (scandalous at the time) to sleep by his side"

Leopardi, Florence, 1832-33, from when they got separated because Ranieri needed to tend to some family issues:

"My Ranieri, you will never abandon my side, nor will your love for me grow colder. I don't wish for you to sacrifice yourself for me. In fact, before anything else, I strongly wish for you to take care of yourself first: whatever you choose to do, you will do it so because we live for one another, or I know that I do for you; my last and only hope. Farewell, my soul. I keep you close to my heart, which in both possible and impossible occurrences, will forever be yours"

Leopardi, Florence, 1832-33, on someone making a joke out of Ranieri for staying by Leopardi's side:

" [...] Oh, my Ranieri! When will I get you back? I won't stop trambling until I'll recover this immeasurable love, until I know it's true. Farewell, my soul, with all my spirit's strength. Don't get bored of loving me"

And more:

"Ranieri of mine, I need not say that in every way you wish, I will be there with you (...). My resolution has been so for a great time now: that I will never be parted from you. Farewell"

In 1833, Ranieri sends a letter where he says he intends to set off to get Leopardi and go live together in Naples, to which Leopardi answers:

"My Ranieri, will this [letter] reach you in Naples still? I must warn you, I cannot live without you no longer, I'm overtaken by a morbid impatience to see you again, and that I am sure that if you will be late, I will die from the malencholy of not having you still. Farewell, Farewell"

Ranieri, on the landlady that took them in in Naples:

"She revealed this: that I had introduced a consumptive in the house: that, loving him so much as to stay up at night by his side, there could be no reason I could not do that as well in mine own house"

--

So now, take it as you will- because maybe I am way too much of a nerd about this stuff- but I can't read ANYTHING Leopardi and Ranieri related without seeing Viktor and Jayce. I will gladely add more in the future.

--

Addition! If you want to watch/read on them (but mostly Leopardi, which is a catch) I STRONGLY advice you:

Leopardi. Il poeta dell'infinito - I don't personally love it but if you want more on them, thats the place

Il giovane favoloso - AMAZING movie

Canti - by Leopardi, it is a collection of poems he wrote and I think it is absolutely useful to understand his marvelous mind and character

Sette anni di Sodalizio con Giacomo Leopardi - the one I mentioned before, written by Ranieri on his time with Leopardi

[giuliettagaltieri]

True Crime

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Welcome to your perfect fairy tale life.

Warning: Intoxication and implicit sex

Word Count: 2573

Chapter: 2

Soft sunlight peering from the gaps of your drapes warmed your face, pulling you from your slumber.  For a moment you just stared blankly into the wall, enjoying the peace the morning brought before a yawn forced you to break your staring.  You push your duvet off to sit up and stretch.  Your cat, Lily, presses her little paws on her face and stretches.  She slipped beside you while you were fast asleep.

“Good morning, my love.”  You coo softly at her and she sassily stands and sits by your lap, demanding pets, which you give willingly.  She closes her eyes when you bury your face on her thick white fur.  Showering her with kisses, you had to stop when you felt a sneeze coming in.

Lily meows in protest when you do sneeze, driving her away.  She then meows at you dramatically as she walks in circles in your door.  You roll your eyes at her and get up to open it.

“I put in a cat door so you can use it, silly.” 

You head to your kitchen to give Lily her breakfast.  While she enjoys her breakfast, you stretch once more as you make yourself a cup of coffee.  To romanticize your Saturday morning, you switch on your laptop and connect it to your speaker to start a soft Parisian playlist.

You always appreciate your mornings on Thursdays until Sundays since the other three days of your week are nothing but pure hell.  You work as an OR nurse and although you love your job, standing up for at least eight hours to assist surgeons will never not be tiring.

Well, at least the pay is good.

Feeling ready to start breakfast, you reach for the waffle mix in your cupboard and start on the waffle batter.  You finish the beautiful stack of golden waffles and you top it off with a slice of butter and a drizzle of maple syrup.  You wipe your hands on a napkin to open another tab in your browser so you can listen to the local news but nothing really happens in your quiet town.

After finishing your pancakes and coffee, you clean up your apartment while doing your laundry to be time efficient.  Lily takes a nap in her cat bed, she just recently got over her fear of the vacuum and is now a very good girl whenever you clean up.

Once you’ve steamed your scrub suits and folded your clothes, you freshen up and change into your activewear to run a few laps in the park nearby.  One thing you liked about this town is how the sun is never at its peak.  You can run in the park at midday without fearing for skin cancer.

Lily barely turns her head to you as you get out of your apartment.  You see familiar faces on your way to the park and you smile at them to be polite.  In your three years in this small coastal town, you haven’t exactly made a friend.  You have quite a lot of acquaintances, yes.  But not a friend.  Not the townspeople’s fault of course.  You just like your own company.

Some of the few acquaintances you made outside your workplace are your old nosy landlady who bakes too many cookies.  She comes by once in a while with her retired military dog which she dresses up with cute little bow ties.

The shopkeepers of the town are also very kind, very welcoming when you come to their cozy shops.

It was definitely the life you dreamed of when you were young.  To move somewhere where nobody knows your name.  And it’s great.  You really feel like an adult, standing on your own two feet.  A real independent. 

Sure it’s a bit lonely when you have nobody to celebrate with on holidays or have someone to lean on when work gets a bit tough.  But your job and other responsibilities keep you busy so you can’t dwell much on them.  Lily also does a really good job in keeping you company.

After an hour or so of jogging, you head back to your apartment to grab a quick snack, nothing too filling, just something to keep hunger at bay.  With the sweat coating your skin, you take a long shower to scrub off the sweat and dust that stuck to your skin after you jogged.  With your money mostly going to the bank, you splurged on your skincare routine.  Once your skin is well pampered, you make yourself a quick lunch, just a panini and a glass of cranberry juice to go with it.

You settle yourself on your couch to watch an episode of your favorite tv show because God forbid you eat any meal without watching something.  With your stomach full, you clean up in the kitchen and you clap as you glance at your watch.  It says 12:34 pm.  Time to start.

You head to the guest room in your apartment which you converted into a tiny office.

Last year, you opened an online store.  You started with scrunchies and stickers but now you expanded to a bunch of stationery and tshirts. 

The other guest room was converted into a storage space and is chock-full of boxes filled with your items for restocking while the other is lined with shelves holding your products and on one corner is a long table divided into your office and packing space.  You took a bunch of inspiration from Pinterest but you tried to make it your own space by adding decors that felt most like you.

The online store was not as popular as you hoped but you’re just starting and you really believe you’ll make it if you try long enough.  You even started having regular customers that came back to your store to buy every newly launched product. 

Before you know it, you packed 13 parcels of different sizes, you carefully placed them along with the ones you packed the past days into a trolley basket you bought off the surplus so you can load it in your car.  

If something is to look out of place in your small coastal town, it would be your car.  With the town buildings mostly in muted colors and built with old stone and wooden frames, a patagonia red Mercedes AMG CLE 53 Coupe certainly turned heads the moment it arrived last year.

The townsfolk were not surprised to find out it was yours, considering that you were never seen in badly put together outfits.  Most people in the town either wore old shirts and worn out sweaters.  It was not because they were living in really unfortunate conditions but those clothes, they were easier to put together.  But like anything, the car lost its allure in the slow paced town much quicker than most would have thought, now it just blended in with the town. 

A sweet couple mans the local post office, you always see them wearing identical sweaters.  They both beam when they see your car pull up in their driveway.  You load your parcels in the pushcart available in the post office.  They greet you cheerfully and you greet back, trying to match their energy to no avail.  The husband quickly weighs your parcels while the wife processes it for you.  She tells you how much everything costs after the husband finishes weighing everything.

Hopefully by next year, your business will grow and start having a lot of customers overseas.  But baby steps for now, just as long as they’re in the right direction.

After thanking them, you take your leave.  The air smells faintly like the ocean when you inhale deeply.  You watch your feet clad with wedged slippers as you walk on the cobblestone path on the driveway of the post office.

With lots of time to spare, you get in your car and cruise around, passing by quiet offices and family restaurants that line the heart of your town before it faded to houses and apartments.  Most buildings were already present before your grandparents were even born, thus the old fashioned architecture.

A bunch of kids are playing in the playpark near the only school in your town, most moms were busy chatting with each other in the benches, exchanging local gossip.

The vintage boutiques you’re looking for soon come into view and you park your car to find a bench facing the stores you so adore.  You pull out your sketchbook and pencil case.

Someone is performing with a fiddle nearby, serenading the people of the town and you feel no need to wear your airpods so you set it aside.  Smoothing down your dress, you then sit down on the wooden bench and start sketching rough ideas of new sticker sheets that you plan to launch in the future.

Once you feel satisfied with the Parisian chic inspired sticker sheet, you decide to head to the pub for dinner and some drinks.

Well, it was supposed to be just a quick dinner out in the pub but for some reason you chose to stay.  The other families and couples sitting around you made you feel like you are included.  You hear them talk about their kids’ achievements, hear the bickering of old couples.  After completing your meal, you started on the drinks.  The alcohol started hitting you and you just kept ordering more and more drinks until you’re the only one left in the pub.  You even moved to the barstool so you won’t have to get up everytime Tom the bartender finishes making your drink.

He said he closes whenever he feels like it and he hasn’t kicked you out yet so you just kept ordering.  You said you’d stop when you get a little tipsy as you had to drive home but Tom just makes the best cocktails.  He didn’t tell you it has gone to the point where he’s just waiting for you to sober up, taking his time on making the drinks you ordered, reducing the alcohol in it so you won’t die when you do decide to drive home.

You had only gone to the bathroom to do your business and reapply your lipstick when you saw a stranger sitting on your seat.

Who does he think he is, stealing your seat?

“Hey!”  You call and when he turns around, your face heats up.  You don’t usually get men this attractive in your little town.  “That’s my seat.”  You add before breaking into a hiccup.

He smiles boyishly, making you squirm.  The man says something you can’t quite understand and moves to the barstool next to yours.

The smile on his face was making you nervous for some reason and it’s starting to annoy you.  “What are you smiling at?”  You look at him sharply.  When you see Tom bringing him a drink, you suddenly want some too.  “Tom, I’ll have sour cherry vodka.”

Tom wasn’t quite happy with that, much to your disappointment so you decide to order something that will help you sober up a bit instead.  It has really small alcohol content and you’re happy when Tom makes it despite his comment. 

He also gives you and the stranger a glass of cold water each, making you sigh.  You ordered a hot drink and Tom gave you cold water.  Does he want your teeth to fall off or something?  You watch the sweat drip on the tall glass which you quickly catch with a finger before drawing a cute little heart.  So cute and coquette.

With Tom having his back turned to you to make your drink, you got nobody else to talk to.  You see movement in your periphery so you had the brilliant idea of talking to him.

He’s very cute.  His lips look really soft, you wonder if he uses a chapstick.  You stare at them before looking into his strangely colored eyes.  Such pretty eyes too.

The man has a thick accent you can’t quite place and everything he said was just so appealing and interesting to you, you can’t help but giggle like a teenager. 

Gulping down your drink, you pretend it’s butterbeer from Harry Potter.  Your breath hitches when he places a hand on your cheek and wipes your upper lip.  It felt like something that was pulled out of a romance book or like those romcoms you used to watch when you’re younger.  He had you practically squirming in anticipation in your seat.

You can’t believe this is finally happening to you.  And with a pretty cute guy too!

The moment he calls you ‘baby’ outside the pub, every wall you’ve put up crumbles before your eyes and you surrender to the man.

You gave yourself to him, let him bruise your skin with his kisses and touch.  You were sweating, gripping the sheets for dear life as you let him ravish you.

It was carnality in its purest form.  Just lust taking over your bodies as you spent the night tangled in each other’s bodies.  It was a game of push and pull, his body atop you was rock solid.  Everything about him was rock solid.  His washboard abs, his thighs, his grip, and OH! It was pure ecstasy.

You don’t know when you stopped or if you ever did, that you just lost consciousness in the middle of it all, but when you opened your eyes, everything felt…different.

Why does your head feel like it was dribbled and hit with a baseball bat?  Ugh, even your analogies are mixing up.

You let out a whimper when you tried to move your body.  And when did you get a weighted blanket?  Did you somehow mess up your thermostat?  You never woke up sweating before.  But you feel like you’ve been to the gym doing thighs and hip workout for the entire day yesterday and collapsed right into bed without showering.

Well that can’t be right…You were cleaning your apartment yesterday, jogged for an hour but it doesn’t strain your body like this.  You remember packing the orders, going to the post office, sketching, having dinner and drinks at Tom’s…dinner and drinks at Tom’s…

“OH MY GOD!”  You screamed at the top of your lungs when you turned and saw a naked man literally spooning you.

Your scream alarmed him and he woke up in a panic.  In your rush to get out of bed, you got tangled in the duvet and accidentally rolled off the bed with a loud thump.  You screamed at him to get out repeatedly as you blindly threw your bunny slippers at him.  When both pairs went flying off and missed their target, you switched to your pillows.  You hear him apologizing and running around your room.  You struggle to get up, throat going dry as you screamed and why the fuck is he not leaving yet!

Finally managing to get up, you grab your lampshade and scream.  It must have alerted him because he hopped away from you as he tried to put on his pants and it happened so quickly.  You couldn’t have done anything to help him.  He stumbled and fell on his face.

The thud his body makes was nearly sickening yet so incredibly comical.  You stand still, chest heaving as you clutch your lampshade.  You wait for him to get up but he doesn’t move an inch.

“Holy shit…I killed a man.”

Overdrive

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

Dark as a Raven’s Feather

A night owl is what he is. The day is too bright for him. It pains his eyes and head.

“Are you a vampire, or something?” his classmates used to ask him.

He never answered them.

His looks points towards the romanticised figures from film and literature, he supposes. Dark hair, as a raven’s feather, like his grand mère used to say. His skin is pale as marble, and the face has peculiar angles that some find attractive, others quite the opposite. But it’s the eyes that put most people off. They are pale too, but the colours shift. Mostly, they are blue, different shades, but in the lighter spectrum. In certain lights and settings, they go green, and on rare occasions golden specks appear.

“You’re such a freak!”

Sherlock still has no idea how many times he’s heard that sentence being thrown in his direction. Over the years, he’s got used to it, but if he’s distracted, it still hurts.

***

Sherlock loves the city; London, his one true love. He knows her like the back of his hand. He’s walked every street and alley. In his Mind Palace, there’s a map, more accurate than any found online, or in books. 

Granted, the map in his head, is not that useful to others. When he comes home just after dawn, he retreats to that map, and plots in new information. Where the last murder took place, which roads he ran to catch the killer, the new shop on one corner, roadworks and hindrances.

***

Exhausted after running the streets and fighting a man with a knife, Sherlock takes a shower, then goes to bed. He quickly updates his map, before he falls asleep. 

When Sherlock doesn’t find his meal prepared as he wakes at five in the afternoon, he doesn’t panic. Not at first, anyway.

Didn’t Hudders say she was visiting her sister this weekend?

Sherlock has difficulties remembering such trifles. Half of what his landlady prattles on about, don’t even reach his brain, let alone his ears.

He finds bread, honey, and switches on the kettle. The silence in the flat is bliss. At least during his meal. Afterwards, he gets restless. He wonders how it would feel to have someone living with him. Seconds after the thought has invaded his head, he discards it. Who on earth would want to live with him? The Freak impersonated. Perhaps some nutter from the psychiatric ward, or a suicidal person.

Before Sherlock gets the chance to dwell any further, his phone chimes with a text. A new case! 

He puts on his coat and scarf, finds his leather gloves in his pocket, and leaps down the stairs. Outside, it’s already dark. January is one of his favourite months.

***

It’s nearly midnight when he returns to Baker Street. He hears a sound from 221A, Mrs Hudson’s flat. A strangled sound. His heart pounds in his chest, as if he’s run for hours. Carefully, he approaches her door, not sure if there’s an intruder, or the landlady herself making the sound. The door isn’t locked, and Sherlock opens it, making sure to be cautious.

He finds her on the kitchen floor. She’s fallen and hit her head on the table corner. Blood has trickled down from her temple and into her hair. It’s clotted now. The fall happened hours ago. Before Sherlock woke. Hence the missing meal. Bile rises in his throat, panic sets in his chest, tears pour from his eyes.

“Nonononono,” he whispers.

Trembling fingers find her pulse point, he can’t trust her moving chest, and relief washes over him.

Not dead.

He calls for an ambulance, yells into the phone: “Hurry! She’s the only one I’ve got.”

***

He stands back when the paramedics arrive. They stabilise her, puts on an oxygen mask, lay her on a stretcher. Sherlock watches, fascinated by the skilled men, knowing exactly what to do. Outside, they get the stretcher into the ambulance, and then one of the men turns to face Sherlock.

His eyes are blue as the ocean. Sherlock wants to drown in them. The blue orbits are so distracting, he needs to ask again what the man just said.

“Are you alright?”

Sherlock nods, knowing full well it’s not a very convincing nod. 

“Do you want to come with?” the man asks.

“I’m not family. Only her tenant,” Sherlock mumbles and looks to the ground.

A warm hand is placed on his upper arm. No one ever touches him. Apart from the woman in the ambulance.

“I overheard the emergency call,” the man admits. “It sounded like a bit more than a tenant/landlady relationship to me. Come on.”

And then, he ushers Sherlock into the back of the ambulance, gesturing for him to take a seat beside his beloved Hudders. Her colour is less pale, and her breathing seems to be more even. He takes her tiny hand in both of his, stroking his thumb soothingly over the knuckles.

“She’ll be fine. Made of a sturdy material, this one,” the blue-eyed man says. “I’m John, by the way. John Watson.”

Sherlock introduces himself, and when he looks into those eyes again, he realises that he can trust this man with his life. He bends down to the elderly lady’s ear and whispers: “John Watson says you’ll be fine.”

Her eyes open slowly, clearly confused, but it doesn’t last long. When she spots Sherlock, a smile forms on her lips, and she squeezes his hands once. Then, she turns her gaze over to John, and her smile broadens into a full grin.

***

“You and Mrs H. were my favourite midnight distractions,” John whispers in Sherlock’s ear, some weeks later, while his fingers card through the raven-coloured curls.

“Hopefully, only I remain as such,” Sherlock quips and kisses John’s jaw.

John’s chuckle reverberates through Sherlock’s chest and sets in his heart. He’ll tell John about that later. After distracting him.

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[thatswhywelovegermany]

Pretty Lau

Pretty Lau is a water nymph who lives in the Blautopf, a karstic spring near Blaubeuren in Baden-Württemberg.

She actually comes from the mouth of the river Danube, but was rejected by her husband because she is melancholy and cannot have children. However, it was prophesied to her that her problems would be solved if she laughed heartily five times.

When she befriends the family of the landlady of the monastery farm, she is overcome with laughter in everyday situations, for example when she is tickled, when she notices why the toddler is sitting on a ceramic potty that she has admired as a particularly pretty work of art, after a strange dream and when she tries to recite the tongue twister "S'leit a Klötzle Blei glei bei Blaubeura, glei bei Blaubeura leit a Klötzle Blei".

In the end, the prophecy comes true. Her husband comes to get her back and on the third day she is able to tell her human friend that she is expecting a child.

As a thank you, she leaves the innkeeper's family a box of money that never runs out, so that they can always give the wandering journeymen a dime to take with them on their journey.

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 2 - Biscuits

John sat with his head in his hands groaning low in his throat as Mrs Hudson prepared some tea. She loved her boys. Sherlock, she’d known for a long time now and had taken on the role of a surrogate mother of sorts. That boy’s parents did not come to London enough to check on their son, and his older brother was far too stifling, in her opinion. Sherlock had never had a chance to just breathe for himself. So Martha Hudson had made it her mission to make his life as comfortable as possible within some very strict constraints. She was not the landlady. But she also cared for him deeply.

The day John Watson entered the scene, everything changed for the better. Sherlock’s entire demeanour was different now. The minute she saw them together, she had assumed romance because Sherlock had never seemed to light, so inspired as he did with this boy in the room. She still had hope. One day they’d sort themselves out.

“You know, John,” she began carefully, “Sherlock can be an acquired taste.”

John huffed loudly, lifting his face long enough to give her a dark expression before returning back to his posture of despair.

“Sherlock loves his experiments…”

“I’m green, Mrs Hudson. Green,” he moaned back looking up at her.

“I think it’s a great compliment that he feels comfortable enough with you to try these things. Don’t you?” she tried enthusiastically, placing a cup of tea in front of him and then bring over a plate of biscuits and cupcakes to set on the table, which had, unfortunately been iced with a lovely matching shade of green.

John looked at her horrified.

“Merely an unfortunate coincidence,” she sighed. “Sorry.”

He grumbled something to himself and took a sip of the tea. The two of them sat in silence for a decent length of time but somehow it didn’t feel uncomfortable. “You think this is a sign of friendship?” he finally asked.

Mrs Hudson shrugged and sipped her tea.

“I think it’s convenience. Before me he had no-one to experiment on and now here I am. A live bloody subject,” he grumbled.

“John,” Mrs Hudson said, scolding him. “You’re so much more than that to Sherlock and you know it.”

“I was supposed to have a date!” John cried out.

Mrs Hudson couldn’t help chuckling.

“He always, always ruins my dates.”

“Let’s be honest dear, you don’t enjoy them. You’ve told me that many a time,” she reminded him with a stern look.

John simply sighed. And the silence returned.

“Well,” Mrs Hudson said with a huff. “I know it, even if you don’t. You’re the best thing to happen to that boy. He certainly knows it. And while I can appreciated that being green is not conducive to dating…”

John gave her a look.

“I can’t argue with you there,” she conceded. “But I will tell you this: Sherlock Holmes comes from a wealthy family who own property all over the country.”

John frowned not understanding where that was going.

“The poor boy was being suffocated by his parents and his brother watching over his every move, ever since… well you know about the drugs, at least in theory. I have known him a long time and I offered him the flat. I owe him a favour or two myself,” she said with a stiff smile.

“Your husband,” John said with a nod of understanding. “So?”

“Sherlock doesn’t need a flatmate, John. He has money,” she continued. “He had already been living here on his own for a while before you.”

“He told me he’d just moved in,” John said, sitting straighter, his voice rising slightly, ready for a battle, despite it being with the wrong person.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re saying he allowed me to move in so he had someone to experiment on and I’m paying for the privilege?” he moaned.

She chuckled quietly. “No, John. I’m saying he usually prefers to live alone and doesn’t like people but he offered you the room, after a very short conversation, from what I understand.”

John’s shoulders relaxed. “A very strange and short conversation, yes.”

“And you took it with no argument,” she reminded him.

“Yes, that’s true. I… well I had nothing much else to lose.”

“Indeed,” she said, passing him a cupcake which he took. He started playing with the wrapper, unfolding it as he thought.

When he didn’t say anything she spoke again. “You needed each other, I think,” she said quietly.

“Why does he have to make things so difficult?” John moaned, biting into the cupcake. He looked up at Mrs Hudson with a clear appreciation for her baking and returned to eating it.

“The minute I saw you both together, I knew that you had saved each other’s lives,” she finally admitted.

John would have argued but he had a mouth full of cake so he worked on that as he thought and at least from his point of view she was absolutely right.

Mrs Hudson picked up her tea cup and paused. “Is it true that Mycroft whisked you off and made threats?” She had heard this from Sherlock at some point and always wanted to ask.

John looked at her in surprise. “It most certainly is. He has a lot to answer for,” John scoffed. “But he doesn’t scare me.”

“And that’s why Sherlock trusts you. He knows. You’re his protector now. His family are far quieter because they know you’re here and they trust you too.”

“No.” John frowned. “I doubt that.”

“It’s true, John. You have changed Sherlock. And that sweet boy may struggle to tell you so, but you mean a great deal to him.” She reached out and patted John’s hand that was resting on the table. “He’s like a school boy playing pranks on a crush.”

John spat out the mouthful of tea he had taken in and Mrs Hudson sat back in shock, pulling her hand away and sitting up straighter. “John Hamish Watson!” she scolded.

“I… wait, how do you know my middle name?!” he squeaked.

“Sherlock may be an idiot when it comes to you, but I assure you I am not. My husband worked with the cartel. I have ways,” she sighed, getting up to fetch a cloth.

John sat staring into space. What in God’s name was she even talking about?

“It’s not a crush Mrs Hudson,” John finally said.

“No. You’re right about that,” she agreed as she wiped the table.

John relaxed visibly and sat back in his chair.

“It was merely an analogy,” she said gently.

“Well good. I thought I’d cleared it up with you that first day. We’re not a couple. I’m not gay, and Sherlock Holmes does not have a crush on me that induces him to experiment on me… to stop my dates.” As he finished the thought he hesitated. He hoped that wasn’t the purpose of this in any case.

“You’re absolutely right. He doesn’t have a crush. Sherlock Holmes loves you with his whole being,” Mrs Hudson said, levelling a very firm look at John.

John froze in her gaze, swallowing hard. If he’d been a normal colour it would have drained from his face. And thank goodness he was green so she couldn’t see the blush that then rose on his cheeks, though he knew full well that Martha Hudson could see past the green. She knew everything.

They remained frozen like that for what felt like an uncomfortable age as John processed her words. He felt his entire body respond to them.

“John!” Sherlock called out from the doorway.

John twisted around to see Sherlock standing there, relieved at the interruption but then terrified at the thought he might have heard the conversation.

“How long have you…?”

“John, we have to go!” he rushed on excitedly. “There’s no time for cups of tea!”

“Sherlock Holmes!” Mrs Hudson scolded.

Sherlock’s shoulders dropped and he walked around the table to where she was standing and placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Better,” she said. “Honestly your manners sometimes.” She rolled her eyes.

“John. Come on! Get up. There’s a case.” He reached over and grabbed a biscuit, taking a bite and flashing Mrs Hudson a wink before rushing back out.

John sat for a moment. He had far bigger problems now. He leapt up, ran over to her and gave her a kiss too. “Thank you for the tea!” he cried out, as he chased after Sherlock Holmes.

The colour of his skin had been long forgotten. The game was on!

——

@notjustamumj @lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart @givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk

@phoenix27884

[swamp-adder]

Like many fans I've always had issues with Holmes' retirement in canon... not just the separation from Watson but the fact that he always loved detective work so much and it's just hard for me to think of a non-depressing reason why he decided to retire so early in life, move away from everything he loves and focus all his time on some random new hobby that we've never heard about before. I mean even though he's a solitary guy I just have a hard time believing Holmes would actually want to move out to the middle of nowhere where he can't easily go and see concerts whenever he wants.

I know some fic writers try to make sense of it by positing that he had a transformative experience during the Hiatus where he learned how to relax and find true happiness and emotional fulfillment by living a peaceful life appreciating nature instead of doing morbid stuff like obsessing over murders and risking his life all the time, but I dunno... it's not exactly that I find this unbelievable and more that the idea of Sherlock Holmes as a zen nature lover who couldn't be truly happy until he quit being a detective just doesn't appeal to me very much lol.

So how about this alternative theory:

Holmes is sick of being famous and having people hassle him all the time for interviews/autographs/etc (THAT part I can definitely believe). Around 1903 he gets fed up and decides to leave Baker St and secretly move to another location in London, possibly even under the thin façade of an assumed name to keep the neighbors from asking too many questions. (Maybe Mrs. Hudson also retired from landladying around this time and that was part of the impetus for him to leave.) For a while he'll go back to being primarily a "consulting" detective, taking cases from a few Scotland Yard inspectors or government officials who can be trusted with his new address. He had previously banned Watson from publishing any more stories about him, precisely to avoid growing his fame even further; but now he says, "You can publish more stories, but only on the condition that you tell them I'm retired and not living in London anymore." Then Watson is like "How should I say you're spending your retirement?" and Holmes is like "IDK, keeping bees?" as like a random joke. Either that or Watson made up all the "peaceful life of a country beekeeper" stuff to twit Holmes because it's the complete opposite of what he actually enjoys.

Of course eventually people will start piecing together the truth, so Watson writes "The Lion's Mane" to further push the story (and/or as another joke, making it deliberately ridiculous to see if people will still buy it).

Eventually, sometime after the war, Holmes does retire for real; but he stays in London (maybe at still a third address, to shake off the people who managed to track him down last time). He spends his days doing chemical work and writing his book on detection and going out to concerts every night. Watson may or may not live with him, but in any case he's also still in London and they see each other all the time. The end.

[straycatj]

Mr J, are you investing in the stock market? If so, how has your company grown in the last quarter?

I don't but I hear my landlady takes some benefits by metaverse, but but I don't know it is true or not because I haven't had any extra yummies yet, so I never recommend you to trust this information and bet her

[darkhorse-javert]

Pure Clarion of News.

@flashfictionfridayofficial for havingthis prompt , and @i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end, who realised the conflence of timing, and gave me permission to use their headcanon.

London, January 1894.

My tea companion is pale, too worn. Without an insistent landlady, he has been working too hard, and at all hours without taking rest to compensate. And still the shadow of grief on his face.

“You noticed perhaps, the new addition to my quarters?”

“The great box on the wall. Mr Holmes?” My guest enquires carefully. He knows me well, knows my likely reaction.

“Yes...” I sigh, perhaps a little more deeply than is true “It is one of those infernal Bell devices. My brother will have told you that I am sometimes called on by the government?”

He nods assent.

“They insisted I have that,” I wave my hand towards the door, “installed so I may be more easily summoned, rather than loose the time needed to send a messenger. They've even managed to get one into the Diogenes.”

Dr Watson winces a little. “In the Stranger's Room, I presume?” He offers, speaking placatingly

“No; in the Lobby! Where the outside world must necessarily intrude on matters. Let people take calls there if they must take them.”

At that there is a shrill bell clearly audible even through the wood door of my sitting room.

My guest startles looking first around at the door, and then back at me, his eyes both wary and enquiring.

I hmph, and settle myself a little further into the chair, for .“Benson will answer it.”

Sure enough, I hear footsteps, and the ringing ceases. Then the footsteps stride towards our door, perhaps a little faster than usual. But then, today is the day. Benson knocks, and I call for him to enter.

“A telephone call, for Dr Watson, sir.”

Watson turns to look at Benson “For me?” He is incredulous, as well he might be. It is unlikely many of his patients are on the telephone

Benson dips his chin, just a quarter inch or so, “Indeed sir.”

Watson gets to his feet, inclines his head politely to me “If you will excuse me, Mr Holmes?”

I flick my fingers a little, giving the attitude that I am completely aghast at the need, but understand that he must go. Dr Watson strides out of the room with an army step, Benson at his heels. He does not hear my slipper shod feet pad to the doorway in his wake, so I may view the hallway. This I must see.

Benson is pointing and quickly explaining the means by which the telephone works, then he holds out the earpiece to Dr Watson. The Doctor takes it hesitantly, raises it to his ear and steps close to the mouthpiece. Benson retires swift foot to the doorway beside me.

“Dr John Watson speaking.”

A moment of stillness. Then all at once the Doctor goes whiter than paper, gasps, staggers; grabbing with a scrabbling hand at the little table besides the instrument, to support himself. He looks very much as if he will faint away. Benson tenses beside me, ready to run forward and support him.

Dr Watson gasps again, his shoulders shuddering with it, but he has his feet underneath him now. Again he makes a strange gasp, which isn't speech

Then he manages words, “If it is you, prove it. Tell me something only you would know about me.”

A sensible enquiry.

Whatever is said in answer, it brings a sudden scarlet flush to the Doctor's face, all the more noticeable versus his former pallor. Interesting, I am not a nosy person, but I had long had my suspicions about the depth of relationship between Dr Watson and my brother. Perhaps I was not at all wrong.

Doctor Watson swallows unsteadily “All this time... Are you well?”

My brother must answer in the affirmative, for Doctor Watson's posture eases a little. Then he speaks with a tenderness I saw in his eyes when Sherlock brought him to the Diogenes, “I'll be waiting, you know that.”

After a minute more he steps away from the box and hangs up the ear piece with more neatness than I have often managed. He leans on the table, resting heavily with one hand, while the other rises to cover his face, his shoulders shake, a little, and then more heavily. I draw back, touching Benson's shoulder in an instruction to come with me. We have intruded more than enough here, to stay watching now would be beyond rudeness.

Question me as you will, Watson. I will answer what I can. I only hope you understand and do not hate us for the deception.

[battlemaiden13]

Fanfic to read: I read a lot so I’m so sorry; and some are discontinued or haven’t been updated but their so good! Also some authors have even more stories to read or have fanfics inspired by that one so check the authors out to see if they have more or one shots!

All on A03:

-skeleton squatters and the landlady by tyrant_tortoise

-skeleton shenanigans and the landlady (SSLL Bonus Chapters) by tyrant_tortoise

-Skeleton Ex Machina by cryptid_jack

-skeleton sisters meet the landlady by nighttimelights

-the fulfilling ordeal of being known by nighttimelights

-skeleton sisters and the architect by nighttimelights

-the house on lane 66 by OolongTeacup

-procrastinated passion by amyonumouswritist

-making a monster by absurdmagewrites

-a body guard and skeleton tribes by silversnap420

-bones and blogs by frustratedfrankie

-housemates by yinyanchan

-zoot suit riot by yinyanchan

-bone-ifide goods by yinyanchan

-pitch as black by yinyanchan

-darling I do by yinyanchan

-play with me by grimrester

-dirty laundry by potatochisp

-babysitting with extra morbid steps by charamelwrites

-babysitting extra* by charmelwrites

-I am spiteful by burple56

-bitty hunt by rnd_injustice

-on top of the bone pile by Lyrjok

-life with the bone brigade by ValkyrieOfSmut

-Aggre(g/v)ation by Llama_Goddess

-Tilikum by Llama_Goddess

-Leaena by Llama_Goddess

-cave bear by Llama_Goddess

-saving three ex-cell-ent skeletons by recklesslycaffinated

-the skeleton crew by recklesslycaffinated

-spread but no sheets by talldumbass

-greedy by talldumbass

-gloom & doom all up in your room by trashcollector

-home for lost souls by sketchydyslexic

-house of nightmares by sephypsycologist

-I have the power of Gaster and anime on my side by littlexsiren

-a skull-pture of true happiness by GoddessofWar_89

-time after time by medusa_is_fine

-strange turn of events by maxmemer

And that’s just some to start with 🤣 , as I said read a lot, and I tried to stay away from the angst types! But good luck! Have fun!

~Long Asks Anom aka 💚𝒯𝒽ℯℴ💚

amazing! thank you for the recommendations! I've actually read some of these already but I am excited

[fancyfeathers]

Cute thoughts I had after this request from @luckycharm1 where one of William and his darling’s daughters who is as intelligent as him manages to run away and make her way to Baker Street so she can help the detective in anyway possible as Sherlock’s assistant.

I firmly believe that Miss Hudson adores this little girl, she is so insanely helpful and kind to the landlady. Like one time the lock on one of the doors broke and before she could even all for a locksmith to fix it, their little guest already fixed it and found a way to prevent it from happening again. I also think Miss Hudson gives her the old dresses she wore when she was her age or will sew and adjust other dresses for her so they fit her properly. Then at the end of her first week at Baker Street, the little girl will come back after a case with the detective to see a hand sewn stuffed bunny on her bed, a gift from the landlady to make Baker Street feel like home because even it Sherlock gets kicked out, that little girl gets to stay. If she brings the rabbit to crime scenes that Sherlock and Watson take her to and happens to get a little bit of blood on the toy, the moment they get home Miss Hudson is washing the stuffed animal so the little girl has it when she lays down to bed that night.

Dr. Watson is definitely more of her guardian than anyone else, holding her hand when they go to crime scene and standing in front of her to act as a wall between her and a threat. He is very much protective of her, like she was his own child. Watson takes her out shopping at the market and she is able to identify all the best fruits and vegetables for him so they don’t get anything rotten, and a lot of the time these errands end up in him taking her out for ice cream or tea. He also makes sure when every time she is working on an experiment with Sherlock that she is wearing the proper safety gear, glasses, gloves and a bucket of water nearby, he is terrified of her getting a chemical burn or something in her eyes or worse, so even then he is nearby with his medical supplies in case anything goes wrong. Also she may be smart but Watson can always tell when she is under the weather, so try to go out to a crime scene with the detective and before she can get five feet within the door Watson is standing there between her and the door, placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her back upstairs so she can get some proper rest. Watson dreads the day her father tries something to get her back, because he adores this little girl as if she was his own.

Then there is the famous detective, Sherlock, at first he did not know what to make of this little girl. She has a level of intelligence that rivals his own and the way she can keep pace with him is amazing and a bit impressive to him, but she is the daughter of the most infamous criminal mastermind in all of England and she is hiding from him. When she first start assisting him, he cannot decide if he trusts her or not, but after he takes her to her first crime scene and while he is talking to the police officer at the scene, she is able to get a whole list of clues and write them down for him and upon reviewing it, it’s all true and she did not miss anything that he would have found, she did not withhold any information and even swap theories on what happened and who the killer was on the way back to Baker Street and she was right again. After that she is officially the detective’s assistant, and upon meeting or introducing her to anyone that is how he introduces her. Holds her hand whenever they are walking the streets of London as they are discussing their latest case, looking so natural as if they were family. He is always looking out for her and is slightly terrified of the day the Lord of Crime makes a move. She is always under his wing like a duckling fallowing their mother, the detective and his assistant who wants nothing else to be like him one day.

I imagine at some point she will need to know how to defend herself, so perhaps a few self defense lessons would do her good, taking her out to the range in the countryside when there are no cases and teaching her how to shoot, it may not be much and by no means is she allowed to carry the firearm on her all the time, but it will help when she is in a pinch with no other choice and give Sherlock and Watson time to get to her before anything happens to her.

And a time would come where she has to fire it, backed into a corner when following the trail of a killer and she got separated from the detective. When Sherlock and Watson finds her, she is curled up in ball against the alley way, crying the gun tossed aside next to her, and the body of the criminal laying there in a pool of their own blood. She cries and screams about what a monster she was, just like her father. The two try to reassure her that she was not like him and she was backed into a corner without a corner. Sherlock picks her up when she cries herself to sleep and takes back home, back to Baker Street, unaware of the scarlet eyes watching from the shadows.

Anyway cute doodles I did of this idea while at the beach today

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

hi. alot is happening. bumming off wifi rn. i'm copy/pasting someone from a doc i started in libra office with no internet.

A LOT IS HAPPENING BEHIND THE SCENES AND I’M KEEPING TRACK.

The landlady has made excuses to not give us back the security deposit. She keeps having Dave’s boss call him in a foul mood will all kind of threats and accusations of things we supposedly broke/ruined.

1.) On our first night out of there she has already threatened to call the cops on us by claiming that we filled the house with perfume before we left so it’ll hurt her. What happened was we cleaned it because she demanded that it was clean like it supposedly was when we moved in(it wasn’t clean when we moved in). We used that Meyers shit, which has a pretty muted scent and is supposed to be safe for the environment. And it was just basic sweeping, dusting, and then doing up the ktichen and bathroom just to be safe.

2.) Today she has claimed that we filled the washing machine with motor oil to ruin it as punishment before we left. She swears the whole house smells of oil, after screaming about it smelling like too much perfume that was supposedly used to hurt her breathing. Mind you, mom is an asthmatic so we can’t use things with strong scents because it will fuck her up. If we bought oil, it would be for the van cuz that shit is expensive and we wouldn’t be wasting it on HER of all people.

By now, Dave’s boss is aware that she cannot legally withold the deposit and that she’s trying to use the fact that Dave is a dumbass, against him. Mom however, knows the laws, and the lease said nothing about not using scented cleaners OR perfumes, and she does not have a legit reason to not give us the $1600 back. If she took it to court it would not hold. She has to make an itemized list of her claims, Dave has to acknowledge whether or not they are true, and then it goes to court.

fyi I took videos of everything in the house. Bethy’s Room, Mom’s Room, Bathroom, Living Room, Dining Room, Kitchen. All items that were hers, such as the Oven, Fridge, Washer, Dryer, Toilet, Sinks,Tub/Shower, random Recycle Bin, and Wall Hangings. Inside and Out. All details were recorded before we left. I even recorded us leaving at exactly 11:23 PM Feb 15th 2024, and recorded turning the light off.

Let’s see if she comes up with something else tomorrow. ~5:22 PM Feb, 17th 2024

3.)

Feb, 21st 2024:

I’ve just been informed by Bethy that Dave has gone on to further embarrass us. He insists that he’s got all these racing friends(and tbf they promised to help fund a big event to raise money for us 2 years ago, and then ghosted him AND Bethy when they asked what they had to do to help) who will help and has been harassing them for money.

One of them, an active dirt racer, posted a screenshot with Dave’s full name in a text convo begging for cash. And then half a dozen other dirt racers, active and retired, shared that he’s been hitting them up for money too. How he was in people’s posts about random shit beggn for money and then how he got swindled under his own comment by someone mocking him and posting the same thing he did with a small wording change about leaving an abusive house and Dave not only fell for it but then said he’d try to help them.

And now the greater dirt racing community is aware of this and are mocking him and us and some are making inquiries about Bethy’s well-being in connection to Dave. And their wives are having things to say about how he’s a bad parent and she should be taken away from him.

And I need to remind everyone that this is to pay off a blackmailer who is demanding $300 a week now. Bethy got a bit more info out of him on that and it apparently involves a photo. And there are only 2 types of photos that can get him in legal trouble(since he believes he CAN go to jail over this). So either he sent an unsolicited dick pic, which won’t receive much punishment cuz he’s a man who LOOKS white enough. OR it’s child p0rn, and he’s never given that vibe out of everything fucked up with him so I’m not exactly sure.

But he walks around demanding to know ‘did anyone give us money yet’ and people have donated to the GFM and Mealtrain, and I’ve earned about $100 on Ko-Fi recently, and we haven’t told him cuz he won’t use it for anything good.

He’s been bumming extra money off his boss despite knowing that the van need fixing, we need hot water and heat, and several other problems that need fixing ASAP. And his boss is asking questions and is getting nastier and nastier cuz he doesn’t trust Dave’s intentions and shitty lying.

There is no lease. The owner of this house knows Dave's boss and they supposedly came to an agreement that so long as Dave fixes up this house, we can stay here in the mean time for free. They supposedly made an agreement that Dave's boss will buy everything we need to fix the house up and then send all the receipts to the friend who will then pay him back.

And now Dave's boss is getting so fed up with Dave and his wishy-washy behavior and begging for all this money all the time that he does not earn, that he is now saying he never made any such promises. And he refuses to contact the owner of this house at all. There is no recording. No contract. No signatures. No proof that such a discussion went down at all. It is Dave’s word(unreliable) against the boss’(the one with money and power here) word.

Dave has no way to contact the owner either. Cuz he didn’t think that was necessary apparently. He was perfectly fine making his boss the go-between until his boss got angry.

So our ability to even stay here is hanging in the balance.

Can’t wait to see what other bad news I’m gonna find out.

[black-rabbit-razumikhin]

Raz Reads Les Mis (XLVI)

Jean Valjean - Supreme Shadow, Supreme Dawn

I can't believe this is finally it

Hugo tells us to forgive Marius for slowly shutting out Valjean, and Cosette for not thinking about him

But it is then that Marius is told he has a visitor who brings with him a note

The note signed "Thenard"; the greatest and most unique alias of our time

Marius makes it very clear that he knows exactly who Thenardier is, even if he is under layers of disguise

There's a whole thing about criminals all knowing That One Guy who can hook you up with a disguise

Worldbuilding in your final chapter, Hugo?

But when Thenardier realizes there's no point to his disguise, he gets rid of it and makes himself at home in a chair opposite Marius

He at first tries to get Marius to pay for him to hear secrets of the true identity of Cosette's father

Marius is unphased, being aware that his name is Valjean and that he's a convict

But does he know he's an assassin and a robber?

Sure, he robbed M Madeleine and killed Javert

Thenardier reveals that Valjean is in actual fact Madeleine and that Javert killed Javert, bringing proof for both statements

No, Valjean's assassination and robbery occurred elsewhere

Thenardier found him in the sewer carrying a corpse, and so obviously must also have robbed this body

Thenardier has a scrap of the murdered man's coat as proof

Unlucky for Thenardier, Marius - being the assassinated and robbed victim - presents the coat that the scrap of fabric comes from

Thenardier is turned out of the house and told to go to America

Which he does, and becomes a slaver. Because of course he does

Marius bundles up Cosette and they are off to visit Valjean

Unbeknownst to them, Valjean has been making preparations for his death

As the days have gone by, he's gotten weaker, not eating, not leaving his bed

The landlady calls a doctor

The doctor admits that he is dying but he is not sick, showing the symptoms of someone forced from one they care deeply for

Valjean, in his last strength, has penned a letter to Cosette explaining where all the money comes from and his entrepreneurial events as Madeleine

Clearing her and Marius to be allowed to use the money

When Cosette and Marius arrive, Valjean has minutes to live left

Valjean forgives Marius for turning him away

Marius is shocked that Valjean never told him that he is the one who saved his life

But it is Cosette Valjean wants to see

He tells her to be happy, that he wants an unmarked grave, that she should live in love

He tells her that her mother's name is Fantine

They make him comfortable in a chair with a cushion in his final moments

When the doctor asks if he wants a priest, Valjean says he already has one

This being Bishop Charlie in heaven

Quietly, and his soul being saved by kindness, Valjean dies

His grave is tucked away in the cemetery, barely visited and overgrown

A verse in pencil is written above the stone

And they lived happily ever after...

That book was beautiful. Hugo is incredible. The story was deserving of every word in those 1222 pages. The journey through the tale, meeting all the characters, and saying goodbye - it has been a while since I felt a whole world grow around me that completely. For all the pain and sorrow that it brought, I loved the experience. This is a book that I'm not going to forget any time soon.

[accio-victuuri]

excerpts for this interview about wang yibo and his character wei ruolai: Exclusive interview｜"Storm Chaser" director Yao Xiaofeng: Creating a period drama with a grainy and historical feel

The TV series "War of Faith" is on the air. This legendary story that cuts into the history of the Republic of China from a financial perspective has aroused the curiosity and follow-up of many viewers. It’s production level can also be regarded as the best work of 2024.

Director Yao Xiaofeng admits that he has always been interested in the history of the Republic of China. "This history is actually very heart-wrenching. During this history, the ups and downs of the country's destiny, what kind of experiences did the people who participated in it and those who followed the trend have? I find it particularly interesting.”

In addition to the visual presentation, the performances of many actors are also quite exciting. Yao Xiaofeng said confidently: "The actor in this drama will definitely be able to give one of the best performances in his career." He is a director who is very good at communicating with actors and bringing out their charm. Starring Wang Yibo is also in " Contributed a commendable performance in "War of Faith".

The first time he collaborated with Wang Yibo, Yao Xiaofeng recognized this "kid" very much. "I spent a lot of thought on Wang Yibo this time, and he was very involved and fully committed himself to me during the process. He also believed in me." He said, "There are no distracting thoughts in our cooperation. .”

The Paper: In the first episode, the male protagonist is dragged into the stock market by the landlady. On one side is the heroine's gunfire and on the other side is the male protagonist's stock market turmoil. This contrast is quite interesting.

Yao Xiaofeng: The male protagonist is an ordinary person. When an ordinary person is involved in chaos and bloodshed, he goes from being at a loss to being calm and making a choice. I think this is very interesting. An ordinary person's true reaction when faced with a world he cannot control may be the highlight of this drama. So for the first few scenes, I first created the atmosphere of his life and let the audience accept what kind of person he is. Talking about the relationship between an ordinary little person and the big era and the big world is my specialty.

The Paper: In previous interviews, I saw you expressing your appreciation for Wang Yibo. I would like to hear you talk about the cooperation process, including some observations of this young actor?

Yao Xiaofeng: When we met, I could feel Wang Yibo's sincerity, and I said I wanted to convey this sincerity to the audience. No matter what kind of scene you face, you don’t have to act, you just need to tell me your truest feelings on camera. The good thing about this kid is that he easily believed the scenarios I gave him.

I think this child is very good. He understands it very well. When he comes to the set, he is filming. He regards himself as an actor and leaves it completely to a director. As a director, I explained my ideas to him and let him develop them. I often say that actors and directors should trust and respect each other. From the moment we met, we only talked about the two creators’ understanding of the characters and the drama, so there were no distracting thoughts about our cooperation.

The actor in this drama will definitely give one of the best performances in his career. As a director, what I have to do is to amplify the charm of the actor and help him complete the role. I spent a lot of thought on Wang Yibo this time, and he was very involved, and he also trusted me in the process.

The Paper: How to build this trust?

Yao Xiaofeng: It’s equality. I don’t “pretend” to be a director, and he doesn’t “play” a star. We are just ordinary people. And then he was the younger guy and I was older than him and he certainly had a lot of respect for me. But at the beginning, when the two of us were not that familiar, I talked more about the script with him, without any pretensions to being a director, and communicated with him in a normal manner. After slowly breaking through the barriers between people little by little, the rest will not be a problem.

His smile was so lively that once I made him laugh. After laughing, I said you have such a cute smile, and we were both very happy. Later, he often smiled, and I think he probably smiled the most in my drama.

The Paper: The pavilion where the male protagonist lives on Qibao Street is also particularly rich in details.

Yao Xiaofeng: When Wei Ruo came to the room, I said it was not shabby enough. It was also a loft at the beginning. When the view of the loft was ready, I said as soon as I entered, you have no experience in living in a pavilion. It is too high, too big, and the room is not dilapidated enough. But the photography team is also worried that your space is too big. It’s hard to get small photography equipment in, so it’s not easy to take pictures. But when it comes to photography, I want it to be small and have enough space for people to hit their heads.

If the space is right, we will discuss every detail of the character's life, including what kind of lights to use at home, where to eat, and where to cook. The staff in the clothing team are relatively young now and have no idea about the "ragged" clothes of that era, so I asked them to make them as old and torn as possible.

When everything was ready, Wang Yibo put on a torn cotton-padded jacket, entered the pavilion where he would hit his head, and bent down. The small quilt on the bed could only cover his head but not his tail, so he could only shrink up. We filmed it in winter, and his most authentic reaction was aroused. By truly feeling in this real atmosphere and environment, you can bring the characters to life.

[ms-unbekannt]

I don’t know enough about Luigi to interpret his actions and character but he strikes me as in independent thinker, someone who wouldn’t say yes just because everyone else said yes but because he actually believes is the right answer.

Having that as a base thought and going back to the comparison with Raskolnikov, I can imagine a brilliant mind would wander to another side of thinking different than a “regular” person when put under major stress.

Rodion was consumed in poverty, isolated from everyone he knew, he had withdrawn from all social and academic life, discarding his studies as a lawyer, his family was living far away in their home town while Rodion was rotting himself (almost literally) in thought in a small dingy room in St Petersburg. He believed some people were worthier than others, he put special attention in a pawnbroker, an old lady cold and unsympathetic about the people who went to see her, among others Raskolnikov. He would go there often to get some money to pay for his rent, she would barely give him enough to satisfy the landlady only for him to lock himself in his room again. He barely ate and had stopped taking care of himself a while ago, however he was still described as an attractive, slim, tall, brown haired young man.

He would cross the street as to avoid his best friend and pretend he didn’t see him. Consumed by his superiority complex and depression he started to plan the m*rder of the pawnbroker who he thought was a leech, merely a parasite feeding of people’s misfortunes and desperation. In his mind she wasn’t worthy of living because she had no use for society, he convinced himself he had the right to do it, his moral being on higher grounds than her therefore he was not going to be condemn for it (at least spiritually) he was doing the society a favor by planning and executing his plan.

(The aftermath of the k*lling is a long journey of introspection, sickness of the soul that affects his physical health and many religious ideas of God)

What I think could be similar to Luigi is the way they would think outside the box, I believe only a deeply hurt, disturbed but brilliant mind would think on planning something like that. I’m relunctant on writing about Luigi’s side because I don’t know him and would only be my impressions of him but I’ll try (this is all mere ideas of him and not the truth because no one knows that)

I believe, as many other people do that the surgery and the life post that could have been the stressor for him to allegedly do what he did. Because he seems as a thoughtful, intelligent and accomplished person it shouldn’t have been difficult for him to fall into the idea of *taking action* do something, maybe even just for his convictions not for any other ulterior motive of common wellbeing. I wanted to make sense of his actions because he seems extremely unlikely to commit anything like that, if ever criminal it would be something else but not that. Throwing your life away despite having everything to succeed could mean that his world was shaken so bad that he found no other consolation.

I had thought that isolating from family and friends while planning could mean he didn’t see a life, any life after the plan succeeded but after seeing him in court I had the feeling he’s still very proud and would show no shameful behaviour to the world, maybe if he did it he believes as Rodion did that it was deserved, that the person had no use in society other than disgracing people’s lives. His head held high and smug face could be a charade to preserve a little of pride in such a humilliating experience for someone like him, with his social background (Rodion tried for a long period to assure himself what he did was right)

But I can’t stop thinking that he could have wanted to do one last meaningful thing in his life because he thought his life was over after the surgery, or at least over in the way he had planned it. I do believe one thing to be true, his mental state had to be extremely poor for him to act on it, like Rodion when he did it, he fell into a serious fever that kept him in bed for days, conflicted into his convictions and actions.

As a conclusion, two young men with bright futures fall into despair and commit *allegedly a crime (a meaningful crime but a crime nontheless).

(I am super morally grey so my opinions about the person who died are not of sympathy and I truly understand *if he did it* his reasoning. I’m sorry)

[wenevergotusedtoegypt]

When I thought I was going to be starting that one job a couple months ago, we had hired a babysitter who was going to be with the boys after school. She was a high schooler but she seemed responsible and had enough experience to do the job.

Ummm, yeah.

So obviously we didn't end up having her work after school in the end because I didn't take the job, but there was one Friday that I had to take 5yo to an appointment and wouldn't be back in time to pick up 2yo, so I asked her to pick him up, bring him home, and just watch him for like an hour-ish til we got back. So first of all, she calls me in a panic shortly after pickup saying that none of the keys I left will unlock the door. Now. I left 1 keychain with 3 keys. I used that exact keychain of keys to lock that exact door on my way out that morning, then left it somewhere for her. So this was obviously not true. I told her it's the biggest key (the other 2 are nowhere near the same size as that one) and contacted my landlady to help her. Next thing I hear is that the door still isn't open and now the key is stuck in the lock. I spent almost the entire way home trying to get this figured out with her, with 2yo just sitting in the hallway with her. Guess wha-at!!! Turned out she had shoved the incorrect key into the lock. She finally got it open.

Then a few minutes before I get home she messages me saying that 2yo pooped and asking if she can just wait for me to get home to change it. We had davka asked her when we interviewed her if she was ok with diapers. She was supposed to be with him 5 afternoons a week. He was, inevitably, going to poop during that time sometimes. Like ?????

Anyway.

So today I had an important thing I needed to be at on time and I was worried I wouldn't make it if I couldn't leave til after I took 2yo to daycare. I asked this same girl to come over for literally just 20 minutes. She didn't need to do basically anything. He was dressed, I had him use the potty before she was scheduled to arrive, and I'd already gotten together all of his things. She literally just needed to show up, play with him for like 5-10 minutes, put his jacket and hat on, and take him to daycare.

She.

Didn't.

Show.

🙃🙃🙃

Because she "slept through all her alarms" (she told me almost half an hour after she was supposed to be at my house), which is a little sus considering that when I messaged her at the time she was supposed to have arrived asking if she was on her way, I saw that she'd been online about an hour before. Like she woke up, spent some time on whatsapp, and then went back to sleep for an hour and a half despite the fact that she had somewhere to be in an hour.

B"H I was still able to make it on time to my thing, but this was strike 3 and she only ever actually worked for me once for like an hour (also she wasn't nearly apologetic enough). I can't believe I was going to be relying on this girl to pick up my kids every day??? Apparently my babysitter interviewing skills need some leveling up (also apparently references are utterly meaningless even when they're people the prospective sitter babysat for relatively long term and they reported that she was reliable).

[noblesvacation]

sequel to the post about Lizel

Gil is seen as insanely, inhumanly powerful and antisocial. This is mostly true. Gil is far more powerful than he should be by normal human means, and he's not particularly interested in getting along with people.

However, he's not entirely against human contact nor ignorant to social matters. Gil will punt idiots straight out of the building as neededーand adventurers are exactly the kind of rowdy group who will be annoying and only listen to violence so can we even blame himーbut he otherwise has no problem holding a conversation. It's OTHER PEOPLE who have a hard time talking to him because of their own assumptions and his scary reputation.

The key is that he genuinely doesn't care enough about being social to rectify or even be bothered by this! As long as there are a few people who can act like civilized human beings towards himーand there are some! The landlady of the inn, the bartender, even Studd as a guild employeeーhe's good. Gil does not get lonely easily.

AND THIS REMAINS TRUE AFTER MEETING LIZEL. He's not particularly seeking out new connections, but Lizel is a sort of social connection he's never had before, and that. It's nice. He doesn't need more, but now that he's had this, going back would be difficult.