#we need a watson who would believably say “I am here to be used”

[doingbad]

Nothing but love and respect to the recent batch of grumpy, self assured Dr Watsons who rolls their eyes at Holmes, but we are due for a truly down bad hype-man/wife-guy Watson

[queerholmcs]

the mind of moriarty 👑🧑🏻‍💻♟️

I had the absolute pleasure of doing the original "the game is now" escape room experience immediately followed by the new moriarty-centric escape room (as though the first one wasn't moriarty-centric enough?) with @victorianpining and @647763 back at the end of July, and I did promise a full write-up when I came back to my senses at the end of it!

First off, I could not have been more pleased with the experience; I do absolutely recommend giving it a go yourself if you have the chance. Now, if you're in the mood for spoilers, I'll be detailing some thoughts and recollections below the cut. 💙

Just in case the first escape room experience didn't quite convince you, Moriarty is dead. It's very important that you know that going into this. He's the most dead anyone has ever been. He's so dead he "wishes he could die twice!", after all! They have to keep saying it because otherwise you might forget it, you see. Especially after Sherlock had a whole drug trip on a plane to prove how someone might have faked their death in such a manner only to conclusively decide that dear old Jimmy boy is in fact dead.

I'm assuming everyone reading this is already relatively familiar with the first escape room, and the whole bit where the Network is operating under the guise of "Doyle's Opticians," so I won't spend any time discussing that, except to say that we did get a few confused looks from the various Stamfords when we reappeared (after finishing the first escape room and making the choice to stick to non-alcoholic beverages at the Mind Palace prior to the second) to say, "Oh, no, we didn't get turned around or anything. We've just got a second appointment." (You mean to tell me that most people who go do one experience and then just... leave? Without doing the second one the very same day? What an absolutely unfathomable concept.)

The opening puzzles before the "John Watson held at gunpoint" briefing video (which was the same as that used for the first escape room) were particularly fun: you're shown a series of four images, and you have to figure out the pattern of what's changing (being mirrored, one might say?) between each one to choose the fifth of the sequence from a selection. (Ref. 1: Into the Woods: How Stories Work and Why We Tell Them, John Yorke.)

And then you go on to 221B Baker Street for photos and a brief moment of shenanigans, and I must add a note here that the Stamford who was working with us on this round was brilliant, you could tell she was absolutely loving her job, and there was a bit of a spiel about observation and logic and deduction that turned out to actually be helpful in solving the puzzles in the first room. (Shocking, that she wasn't just harping on about those concepts for fun!)

Anyway, Mycroft shows up via video feed, per usual, and introduces the premise of this game: James Moriarty (who is most assuredly dead, by the way, it's very important that you remember that) programmed an AI before he died—"an archive of maniacal data"—and your job, as new (read: expendable) recruits in the Network, is to go into a virtual-reality space called the Nexus, where you need to hack into the AI and replace Moriarty's mind with—well, not yours, obviously, you're "far too, as they say, basic"—but with Sherlock's. But why not use Mycroft's mind? you may be asking. Especially if he's the smart one.—because, dear reader, "One Mycroft Holmes is already too great a gift for this world. Two would be an indulgence." And that's verbatim from Mycroft Holmes as protrayed by Mark Gatiss himself. I am going to haunt him in whatever comes after this life. Still can't believe that you give them money and in exchange they insult you for approximately ninety minutes and at the end you say 'thanks, this was so much fun, I will definitely be doing this again!'

Right before you go into the first room, you are helpfully reminded by Mycroft one last time that "despite what video games suggest, you absolutely can die in the virtual world." Bit of a theme they seem to be harping on! It's almost like they're trying to get you to really believe that Jim is actually dead or something!

(Photos are all from the official 221b social media accounts.)

The first room is a sort of fusion of the pool from TGG with a chemistry lab and a hospital corridor, and also a miniature version of Jim's prison cell from THOB is there. There's a mannequin of John Watson decked out in a Semtex vest in the corner, and you get the usual experience of solving lots of intellectually- and tactilely-satisfying puzzles, which included opening a bordering-on-comical number of lockers. The John mannequin has a key in his hand labelled "007" (classic!) and a phone in his pocket so you can text Mycroft. Moriarty reminds you that he's the good old-fashioned villain in this fairy tale, and that Sherlock needs him or he's nothing, and that John is Sherlock's "live-in ordinary person."

I also particularly enjoyed the little chemistry puzzle in this room—they do give you a periodic table on the wall, so you have all you need to solve it without any prior knowledge, but who goes to a Sherlock escape room without a graduate chemist in hand?

(We also decided after the fact that the gift shop definitely should have been selling packs of the stickers seen on the lockers in this room, one of which was notably a pixel-art TV with a rainbow screen and the phrase "brainwashed".)

The highlight here, however, was definitely the prison cell. There's a letter on the chair that's on Pentonville Prison letterhead and signed by Mycroft and otherwise consists of a paragraph or two of fully redacted text. The walls have a number of fun phrases scratched into them, like "THREE SIGNS IS NOT ENOUGH" and "TOO MANY THATCHERS", which continue to live in my mind rent-free. (Some of the other phrases were helpful hints for the puzzles you had to solve, but those two weren't even relevant for the puzzles, as I recall. They were just bonuses. Specifically designed to haunt me, personally.)

At some point in here, Moriarty—no, sorry; his recorded voice, because he's dead, remember! We're just poking around in his virtual mind! ("Jim recorded lots of little messages for me before he died," anyone?)—insults you over the speakers, saying, "Goldfish, goldfish, goldfish have better recall than you!" (Mycroft Holmes in TEH, "I'm living in a world of goldfish," anyone?)

Anyway, you solve all the puzzles and put the phone you were using to text Mycroft in Jim's prison cell and continue on your way, going further into the mind of Moriarty, in the direction of the "Watson Ward" and "No Sherlock beyond this point" arrows. (Big moment for "there's definitely a reason that every other character in the canon has the initials J(H)W or its respectable inversion JM" girlies!)

Also there's an audio clip of Jim saying "choo choo!" as you leave the room. (Big moment for TFP girlies! I think my exact words were "I am going to kill myself.")

Onto room two! Green lasers everywhere! (They definitely intended you to do a fun little acrobatics situation here but we were content to hit the floor and crawl to find the buttons to disable them.)

After you disable the lasers, you get to focus on the primary puzzle of the room: a wall covered with sketches of people and copies of incriminating evidence, and you have to connect the scarlet thread red strings between each member of the jury and the evidence that Jim was blackmailing them with—you know, from way back in TRF? When the key code wasn't important at all, it was just about knowing someone's pressure points? (There's a Mary who's having an affair and is a lesbian, btw. Just like our mystery corpse in the original escape room, we should never assume someone is straight when there's room for them to be gay.) This puzzle as a whole was really satisfying, I will say, though it did make us wish for either a notepad or a massive whiteboard to make notes on while we solved the little logic puzzles to match the people to their blackmail material. (They could give you little branded notepads and pens to take with you through the rooms, and to keep as a souvenir, like the ones hotels give you! It would be so fun!) This was definitely the puzzle we spent the majority of our time on.

And then you get to the highlight of this room: opening the safe to reveal Jim Moriarty himself—well, a mannequin version—decked out in the Crown Jewels, happy as could be. There's a reminder that nothing in the Tower of London is as valuable as a few tiny lines of computer code that can open any door. And Jim's written a silly little poem of sorts and draws far too much attention to both "the rod of power in his right hand's grasp" and "the Orb" between his legs (and then we were at the Tower of London two days later and found out that that's not just a euphemism, it's literally called the Orb? Unhinged behaviour. And I don't even know who to blame for it now. The "rod of power" bit was all him, though. Could have been normal and called it a scepter!) and you have to figure out a code and (spoilers!) the code is 7437. Which is fine and perfectly normal and I'm sure the vast majority of people who complete that room think nothing of it, but unfortunately, we were not a group of "the vast majority" and so our experience was not what you might call "fine and normal", because Mia input the code and there was a little beep of success of and then she, without missing a beat, went on to say, "Oh, that's so funny! That's the numbers for S-H-E-R," at which point Rebs and I immediately sank to the floor to stare into the abyss while waiting for the next door to open.

So, just to recap: the point of TRF was definitely that there was no code, there was never any code, it was just about knowing people's pressure points and getting them to do what you wanted, but now that we're inside Moriarty's mind it's definitely all about codes and there's a silly poem to draw attention to various things including, but not limited to, the Orb between his legs, and the code that you need from him so that you can go deeper into his mind is S-H-E-R. Yeah. Sure. Why not. This is Fine! What really haunts me is knowing how many people will do that escape room and will never know that that's what those numbers mean. Because why on earth would you?

(Just to prove how normal I am about this, I won't even say anything about a potential parallel between Moriarty's "Orb" situation and the globe on Mycroft's desk under Whitehall. See? I'm not even mentioning it, why would you bring up something like that? No M-theory here, no sir! Not a single trace of it!)

Congratulations, you've made it to the rooftop, where Sherlock jumped off a roof and James Moriarty met his end, and I swear Jim has a line somewhere in there complaining about how hard it is to plan this sort of thing. (Whatever that means!)

We've got screens playing clips from all thirteen episodes of the show—okay, that might be an exaggeration; I didn't actually check to see if there were clips from every single episode. But there were definitely clips from series four, which is very funny considering how the universe that these rooms seem to be set makes exactly zero mention of John's wife at any point in time. (Hey, hello, hi, it's me who's writing this. Obviously I noticed when there were shots from TFP on those screens.)—and there are computer-code-esque symbols on the walls and Jim is lying dead on the floor and Sherlock is standing on the edge of the rooftop.

Here are some fun facts for you: the gun is still in Jim's pocket. (He's definitely dead, though! You know how you shoot yourself in the head and then return your gun to its rightful place before you politely lay down and die?) And Sherlock's mannequin is wearing the purple shirt of sex a purple shirt, which is a detail that might not be noticed unless you're thoroughly ransacking his every pocket (twice) to check for a missing key, and I was going to say something about how of course he is, because what else would you expect him to be wearing when we're three levels deep in Moriarty's mind and the code to get this far was S-H-E-R, but then I went back and checked and Sherlock is, in fact, wearing a purple shirt at the end of TRF. (Which somehow still doesn't actually negate any of the above, imo.)

Anyway, the first puzzle in this room involves finding a bunch of physical puzzle pieces to solve a puzzle, and figuring out how to unlock doors to obtain all of the pieces, and some of the padlocks use code words that they give you by putting phrases from their "sophisticated and cerebral" merch on the screen and highlighting letters, and some use numbers that you get by solving other riddles, but one of them is a padlock with a physical key and (spoiler!) it turns out that you don't even need to get the key for that one, because there's another way to get the puzzle piece out without unlocking the door at all! (Was his grand daylight robbery scheme a matter of keys and codes, or was it just about knowing people's pressure points and blackmailing them? You decide!)

And then it's time to manage the final task of uploading Sherlock's brain to the AI, which is accomplished by running around hitting buttons while music plays over the speakers to instil a sense of great urgency. You definitely would not want to do this with fewer than three members in your party. This is where they use Jim's line of "Surprise! You didn't think I'd just disappear, did you?" as seen in one of the teaser trailers, and they also plaster every screen with the classic "Did you miss me?" footage that mysteriously appeared on every screen in the country at the end of HLV.

But when you do manage to complete the task, Mycroft's voice comes back to congratulate you, and to sort of threaten you (though that's par for the course when it's Mycroft Holmes we're talking about, I'll admit), and to leave open the possibility of your returning for another job someday. I, for one, cannot wait to see what they're going to do for round three. (Personally, I think it would be very funny if they put one of the rooms on the Demeter for the next one. No rebranding necessary, no discussion of Dracula at any point whatsoever, but for some reason you find yourself on a boat, in cabin number 9, playing chess with the Devil himself Moriarty! What a shocking and unforeseen turn of events that would be!)

(The only real downside of them doing a third room would be that I would then have to make time to do three of these in one day. And that might be a bit excessive. I mean, three eye exams in one day? Someone's definitely going to say something.)

We had a very lovely time at the Mind Palace bar after that, to debrief a bit, and there was a logic puzzle that I still need to sit down and crack at some point when I have a moment. I was personally very pleased to find drinks called "The Diogenes Club" and "The Lying Detective" (both of which I was contractually obligated to order, naturally), and did you know you can rent out the bar for private events? I'm sure I would be very normal about such a situation. (Good job I'm not local to the area, truly!)

This has already gone longer than I think I intended, and I'm sure I could keep going, given the opportunity, but I'll close things out here, and say again that I do absolutely recommend doing the escape room(s) if you have the opportunity; I could not have been more pleased with the experience. My sole complaint is that they don't let you wander back through the rooms after solving the puzzles to have a moment to appreciate all the small details when you're not working against the clock. And also they should send me the scripts, as a treat. Along with any remaining unused video or audio footage. (Moftiss, my DMs are open, feel free to drop the links at your earliest convenience!)

[thegildedbee]

Jealousy/Empty: May 27 & 28 Prompts from @calaisreno

This latest chapter and the previous ones are here at ao3. ...............................................................................................

On only rare occasions did Mycroft Holmes’s body register qualms about a plan of action. Long ago he had decided not to second-guess well-studied plans at their point of execution; to do so was to invite potentially disastrous distractions, with the deployment of second guessing performing as does Hercules’s sword when it slashes at the neck of the mythical hydra, only for it to grow two more, and so on ad infinitum. The meeting about to take place that he had arranged by subterfuge is one of those rare occasions.

Watson’s visit the preceding week had been exceedingly unwelcome for a number of reasons, but mostly as it left him with having to decide how to resolve the dilemma it presented of his brother’s instruction that Dr. Watson was not to be given any indication that Sherlock had survived the fall from Bart’s roof. However, the stable door was no longer shut, and the horse had bolted.

After failing his brother in the Moriarty affair, Mycroft had felt honor-bound to accept Sherlock’s outline of his plans to go underground and undercover, after he had been summoned to the morgue by Miss Hooper. He had indeed acquiesced to Sherlock’s strategies at the launching of his mission; once a mission is underway, needs must as to corrections and improvisations that have to be made based on changed circumstances. Such was his conclusion.

In consequence, there was one matter that he had decided could no longer remain hidden. The remedy required summoning Watson, Mrs. Hudson, and Detective Inspector Lestrade. He refused to undergo the required machinations three times as a concession to his own disquiet about the matter. He had made a reservation for Watson to take Mrs. Hudson to tea at St. Ermin’s Hotel, and he had made an arrangement for the Detective Inspector to meet with one of his MI5 case officers off-site from their respective government offices at the Caxton Bar at the hotel. At the conclusion of these two events, preparations had been made to take all three of them through an underground tunnel that ran from the hotel to a secure location nearby, which held only three chairs and a table. It was now time for him to join them.

As he opens the door to the room, all three faces greet him – as he had expected – with various mixtures of surprise, resignation, resentment, and curiosity.

“I want to thank you all for being here,” he begins, with all three of them rolling their eyes. He grimaces, and continues, saying, “you will understand the need for secrecy directly.” He places in front of each of them a stapled stack of papers with a blank cover that contains only a series of numbers at the top right.

“I know from Dr. Watson that the three of you have divined that Sherlock is alive, and that he has been at work since his presumed death in espionage activities against the Moriarty enterprise. What you do not know is why, and I believe that, going forward, you must be read into that area of the case.”

“And what is it that we have come here to read?” Watson asks, his voice hard, with a challenging edge.

“My brother tossed his mobile on the roof before he fell. He had made such preparations as he could, expecting that the odds were that he would survive the fall, but he knew that there were substantial odds that he would not be successful. The public information about the mobile that was given was that it was empty of any relevant information. However, Sherlock had recorded the last conversation he had with Moriarty using the voice memo app on the mobile."

It is now Lestrade who speaks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “So what we have here is evidence that was withheld from the investigation.”

“Yes, Detective Inspector. On national security grounds. What I am going to share with you is, in fact, beyond your authorized levels. I have granted clearances for each of you for the next 20 minutes. My brother did not intend for you to learn of this conversation, so I have not brought the actual recording; to hear about this event in his own voice is – either through this means or directly – I believe, a decision for him alone. I cannot ask him for that permission, because Dr. Watson has told me that Sherlock is not to be told that you know the truth about his death. What you have before you is an unredacted written transcript of the conversation.”

“Mycroft Holmes!” Mrs. Hudson begins, addressing him with some asperity. “I am quite sure I do not know what to do with you!"

“For now, nothing. What is to be done immediately is for you to read the transcript, if that is your wish. You do not, of course, have to do so.”

He notes that all three look stunned; but there it is, there’s nothing that can be done to mitigate that circumstance. As difficult as reading through the record of Sherlock’s “last” conversation may be, they do all have each other, the closeness amongst them having become even more so over the last month of their shared investigations. He tamps down a flare of jealousy. They will be fine.

“I shall leave you to it then,” he says, with a slight bow. Taking one last glance at them as they each turn to the first page, he quits the room, softly closing the door behind him.

........................................................

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper

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@msladysmith @ninasnakie @riversong912 @dapetty

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[nowiamcoveredinyou]

My world

Sherlock x reader

Fluff

The serene afternoon of spring. The rejuvenation of nature, the extremely ethereal weather, all of this gave me extreme joy and peace. The winter was frosty, the winter was cold and painful. It always pains me to see the trees losing it's flowers, it's like losing your special one. It haunts me, the thought of losing the one I love.

I chuckled as the one I love snored lightly as soon as my intrusive thought crept in. As if telling me "lose whom? Me? Never!". Sherlock was taking a nap resting his head on my lap. And I ran my fingers through his curls. The fear of losing a loved one is our eternal fear, both of ours. He lost his bestfriend and it haunts him till this day. In a way he lost his sister too, she was never to be free and we knew it.

It haunted him that he'd lose John watson too. He did everything to take care of him. To protect him. Now I was rather a different case for him. He never wanted to love anyone in his whole life. Yet he says when I entered to his room all he felt was the urge to stay close to me, to protect me, to.. to love me. He did you know, secretly loved me for months, watching me dating other men but never stopped loving me for a moment. He doubted I'd ever love him back, he says he's flawed, he did wrong in the past, but I'm flawed too, I'm no perfection, I've hurted people too, been hurt as well.

So to say, two absolutely fucked up people found comfort in eachother's arms. Who are we to judge? We are just loving eachother. He helped me forget my past and I helped him to do the same. They're not gone though, they're buried deep down, though haunts us still. Why would we care? We're happy here in this scruffy flat, solving crimes.

With little movements he finally opened his eyes and looked straight up at me,

"did you sleep well?" I asked lightly touching his nose.

"yeah I did" he said with his sleepy voice which is cute but... Sexy at the same time, "how long did I sleep?"

"for forty five minutes, not much" I replied, he got up from my lap and sat looking at me,

"how's this fucked up brain?" He asked knowing what a worrier I am, and not the fighting one, the one that worries alot. We formed this word to define a worrisome person too, we are that silly.

"it's fucked up, what can I say" I replied leaning on his chest, now it's his turn to comfort me.

"aww my darling, I hate it, I despise seeing you like this" he replied wrapping an arm around me, "but don't worry, no fingers will be raised at you again" I clunged to him at this, recalling the fingers that actually were raised at me, forever. I never knew I'd loved , that too by this man. "And by fate we met, by ch- "

"fate?" I interrupted raising my head to meet his eyes, "you don't believe in fate do you?"

"I didn't, guess I still don't" he answered, "but fate did give me two rather important people whom I adore, you ofcourse and John" he caressed my cheek with his thumb as he smiled at me, "you two are flawed just like me, you two made mistakes just like me, but as I've told this many times that I still get this terrible thought that we might just all be human, innit?"

I stared at him before answering, "yes, we are, and I deserve you" I leaned again, right where I belong, to him.

"and I hope I deserve you too" he held me tightly. We don't know what our future holds, we don't judge eachother by our pasts, we're here, in this moment and we're happy, in eachother's arms, he often says, you need one person to make you a better person and for him that was John and then me. For me it's him too. He's my world, and I'm his as well.

[anneangel]

A note on BBC John's silly behavior ⬇️

First, why does he care so much about what 'people might say'? It's the 21st century, it's not like someone can legally destroy them for it. The only thing that might break is John ego if he isn't called 'straight', it seems. A person who needs so much to ensure this, all the time, shows an insecure.

It's like any characteristic, whoever has and is sure of it doesn't need to reaffirm it to others and little is shaken when put to the test, whoever doesn't have it or is insecure about it will insist on reaffirming it all the time.

Where does John fit in with all the "people might talk", "I am not gay" and "we not a couple!" ???

Realize that Sherlock doesn't show the same insecurity as John, he doesn't need to reaffirm anything, whatever it is, he's sure of it and knows he doesn't owe anyone satisfaction, and little is shaken if someone doubts him, he doesn't cares about what 'they might talk', because he doesn't need other people's opinions to ensure what he is or isn't.

but John, having anything to talk about and joke about, chooses always to raise this.

Excerpt from the Canonical books:

I should recommend you also to send a note by the cabman to your wife to say that you have thrown in your lot with me" say Holmes to me.

It was difficult to refuse any of Sherlock Holmes’s requests, for were always so exceedingly definite, and put forward with such a quiet air of mastery. (...) I could not wish anything better than to be associated with my friend in one of those singular adventures which were the normal condition of his existence. (...)

"Now, Watson,” said Holmes (...). “You’ll come with me, won’t you?".

“If I can be of use.”

“Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one.”

“The Cedars?”

“Yes; that is Mr St. Clair’s house. I am staying there while I conduct the inquiry.”

“Where is it, then?”

“Near Lee, in Kent. We have a seven-mile drive before us.”

“But I am all in the dark.”

“Of course you are. You’ll know all about it presently. Jump up here (...)".

And

(...) he was exceedingly loath to communicate his full plans to any other person until fulfilment. It came no doubt from his own masterful nature, which loved to dominate and surprise those who were around him. Partly also from his professional caution (...)".

Yes, Watson's first thought is to question the place, and wanting to know how Holmes is proceeding, although Holmes likes to have control over what to reveal and when.

Modern John's first thought would be: 'people might to talk'.

Oh, they seem so worried, john? And even if they did, they would have real reasons!

So, keep calm, John. It's not like you're going to be publicly rejected for 'committing a crime', go through a trial that exposes you and arrested by the police for it, you would not be killed by hanging, you would not be obliged to do forced labor, nor would you be forced to undergo chemical castration...

It's not like it's going to ruin your life if someone thinks you're gay and in a romantic relationship with Sherlock, John!

It shouldn't be a laughing and joker either, because what's the fucking problem with it?

Did you really think people wouldn't talk, john?

Oh, of course Sherlock acts like "I'm awesome" to the point of winking like a "nice guy", of course, did he do that to Anderson too? Donovan? Dimmock? For Greg? Sherlock wink at everyone he's just met. OK. He would wink to anyone who would share a room with him? Well, he seemed really desperate for a place on Baker Street! OK, I believe. Lmao.

But John is ALL the time like:

And if it's not for his ego or insecure then...

It's 'like fun' at first, but nasty when you think about 'what the show is mocking'. From the beginning this show laughed at the fans who would read "between the lines". ????

Oh, I like BBC Sherlock, I really like, but honestly; they mocked some fans of Canon (queer and shipping Watson/Holmes fans) so much.

[morlock-holmes]

So, a narrative that has gotten hold in left-wing circles is that of "dangerous misinformation".

The sort of underlying assumption is that is that there is a problem with too much credulity in this country. The paranoid style of politics is based on being too credulous, and getting information from sources that aren't reliable, and then acting on that unreliable information.

The solution, then, is to put out more reliable information, and teach skepticism so that people might begin to better suss out which sources of information are reliable and which are not.

I don't think that's a bad goal, obviously such skills are useful and necessary, but it does feel like it misses a dynamic which seems to me to characterize paranoid politics.

I've been listening to the Knowledge Fight podcast about Alex Jones, and particular their breakdowns of the depositions that members of his company gave during the Sandy Hook defamation cases.

And what I heard from them, in justifying their actions, was something that, yes from a certain standpoint you could call it credulity, but it seems to me more like a radical skepticism.

When asked whether or not something like "Sandy Hook Elementary was not an operating school at a given date" was a fact which is either true, or false, there was a LOT of hemming and hawing, and the answer basically boiled down to,

"No."

The reasoning is essentially this. The media is so corrupt, and so heavily captured by special interests and hostile interests, that using it to find out any facts at all is essentially impossible.

We live in a world so thoroughly saturated with misinformation that the usual standards you'd think of to determine what is true and what is false are completely impossible to put into practice.

Sure, you might find a piece of evidence saying that Sandy Hook was operating at such and such a date, but how could you ever possibly be sure that evidence wasn't planted or manufactured?

I believe it was Paul Joseph Watson who pretty much said that out loud.

Instead, we have to rely on a different heuristic.

If a news story implies a result that we wouldn't like, then it is likely to be false, and more specifically, it was probably planted to generate that result.

The InfoWars people were very open that their first reaction to the Sandy Hook story was that the Democrats were going to use it as an excuse to enact gun legislation, and that this was the reason that they really started to try to push the story that it hadn't happened.

In terms of real world facts it's crazy to think that Sandy Hook happened because of the Democrats, but it's not completely insane to start looking for evidence against something you dislike.

What makes for crazy is that these are people who fundamentally don't believe that it's possible to find evidence.

You don't look for evidence (At least, not in the sense you or I would understand), you look for "anomalies" to use their word.

Here I'm extrapolating, but essentially this mindset seems to involve a thinking like this.

"Because there is no way to actually acquire evidence of truth or falsity, anybody who insists too much on the truth of their beliefs is suspicious. Why would they be so insistent when we all know that all beliefs are essentially impossible to objectively verify? It certainly can't be because they have evidence, that can't exist anymore in the modern world.

"So they must have some other reason. And the best way to figure out that other reason is to figure out what they would gain if their story happened to be accepted as true by the public.

"Once you understand what motivates their story, you need to go searching for anomalies which would reveal the truth of the matter, which is that they have no objective or factual reason to be so insistent"

The InfoWars position is, in some sense, credulous because they absolutely cannot differentiate between a good source and a bad source, but the more I listen to them talk the more convinced I am that they have embraced such a radical skepticism that they don't actually believe that it's possible to differentiate between sources.

[calaisreno]

1895

Prompt: Time

Note: This is a small epilogue to The Traveller. With today's prompt, it was hard to resist visiting these two in the past. If you haven't read that story, all you need to know is that Holmes and Watson are time travellers from the future who have settled in Victorian England.

1895

John comes in from the street, his cheeks ruddy from the cold, his eyes sparkling.

Though the habit of using surnames has by now become automatic, Holmes finds that he still thinks of his flatmate not as Watson, but simply as John. While there are plenty of private moments when they can be more intimate with one another, in the daylight hours, he is Watson.

“Holmes!” Watson shakes the rain out of his coat and hangs it on the hook near the door. “What do you say we dine at Simpsons on the Strand tonight?”

“I can think of better ways to spend the evening, dear boy. It’s raining and chilly, and I would find moving off the sofa quite inconvenient, as I’m monitoring an experiment that must be precisely timed.”

“We must eat, though. And considering what day it is…” He raises his eyebrows. “I thought a little celebration might be in order.”

Holmes smiles, knowing exactly what day it is, but enjoying John’s expression. If he’s honest with himself, he never could have imagined John adapting so well to Victorian England. He sees his man frowning now, thumbs hooked into the small pockets of his waistcoat, the impressive moustache he’s insisted on growing twitching with a little smile he’s trying to conceal. Not a man out of time, as Holmes had feared, a man who would long for cell phones and talk telly and modern medicine, but a man who has immersed himself in this foreign time, becoming a perfect Victorian gentleman. 

“Celebration? New Years is long past, and my birthday as well. I’m not aware of that today is any holiday. It’s simply the twenty-ninth of January. Enlighten me, I pray, dear Watson.”

John chuckles and loosens his tie. “You know what day it is, Sherlock. It’s our anniversary. The day we met. I believe we celebrated with Chinese food.”

“Oh, indeed. But I am quite sure that hasn’t happened yet. 2010, was it?”

John toes off his shoes and sits beside him on the sofa, taking Sherlock’s bare feet into his lap. “One hundred and fifteen years from now. So, Simpsons?”

He pulls John into an embrace. “I had Billy obtain some of those meat pies you like, and there’s a bottle of beer we can split. I’ve been thinking of other ways to celebrate.”

“Hm.” John kisses his jawline. “Do you ever miss it? Do you ever think of going back?”

“Never,” he replies, shivering as John begins nibbling at his neck. “What about you? Are you ever sorry you came with me?”

“Not a bit. I have everything I need right here, in 1895.” He arches an eyebrow. “And if I’m not mistaken, you’ve planned some rather un-gentlemanly celebration for tonight.”

“I have.” For some minutes he allows John to unbutton his shirt and work his way down, kissing all the way. “Maybe we could celebrate first, work up an appetite?”

“Perfect.” 

“Thank you, John.”

“What are you thanking me for?”

“I was never a man of my own time, I think. I was always yearning for something, and I didn’t know what. That’s why I became a traveller. And then I found you.”

John hums. “And then we lost one another. But here we are, and have been for years now. I’ve never felt so at home.” 

He takes the beloved face in his hands. “Dear John, I believe I will be at home in any time, as long as you’re there beside me.”

580 words

Thank you @notjustamumj for the prompt!

Tagging: @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl @jrow @thegildedbee @peanitbear @mydogwatson @momma2boys @helloliriels @meg-the-second-greatest

[mxalexis]

Behold !

I am bringing you a masterpiece featuring :

💭 a walk down memory lane

👬 friendship

⏱️ a race against time

💢 a domineering father

🏳️‍🌈 queer folks

💗 hope

Yes, I am talking about The Lost Cases, The Private Diary of John Watson, The Vanishing Heiress by Sage Boscombe.

This novella is the 3rd chapter in a serie featuring John Watson & Sherlock Holmes, with a focus on their personal relationship.

In case you didn't know, let me be clear : they are in love! With each other! In a very gay way!

(Just tought I would clear that up)

Now, onto the story :

➡️ Sherlock and John find themselves *cough* interrupted *wink* with a message from a rich man whose daughter has been missing for a month, and who desperately needs their help finding her and bringing her back.

He's not a sympathetic man, his temper seems to flare up quite easily, and he's clearly not used to not getting his way.

But he is obviously very distraught by his daughter's disappearance, and the police are of no help. So our favorite duo decides to investigate the matter.

They end up going to Barts, Watson's old university, to interview a good friend of the missing young woman, who might or might not know what happened to her.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

In the previous chapters, I was enchanted by the silliness, cuteness, and romantic aspects of John & Sherlock's story.

And those are still there ! Very much so !

The scene involving Mrs Hudson (you'll know wich one when you read it), in particular, has me roaring with laughter every time I re-read it !

The "aaaaaww" dimension is also very much present on several occasions.

⚠️ The reason I'm explaining all this is to make sure you keep that in mind as you move on with the rest of my comment, because it's not all sweet and roses.

I have to say, very rarely have I read a story that gut-wrenching, and yet hopefull & wholesome at the same time.

Here we start seeing more concretely what it meant at that time to be qu33r in London. And while it would have been easy to focus it all on misery, despair, or ostracism, the author beautifully showed hope, resilience, solidarity, and acceptance.

Not only is it very well-written, it's also a lovely continuation of the previous chapters, absolutely believable in terms of characters' development, & a great way to explore these 2 sweet men's universe some more.

Thank you so much, Sage Boscombe, for creating these precious stories 💙

I can never recomend these novellas enough.

Please consider giving them a go!

[mariana-oconnor]

Thor Bridge pt 2

The Gold King has come to hire Holmes to prove his mistress (?) did not kill his wife.

That is a very strange statement.

"My love faded. If hers had faded also it might have been easier. But you know the wonderful way of women! Do what I might, nothing could turn her from me. If I have been harsh to her, even brutal as some have said, it has been because I knew that if I could kill her love, or if it turned to hate, it would be easier for both of us."

Are you... trying to excuse abusing your wife by explaining that you did it to make her hate you?

I don't think that argument is as sympathetic as you think it is.

"Then came Miss Grace Dunbar. [...] The whole world has proclaimed that she also is a very beautiful woman. Now, I make no pretence to be more moral than my neighbours, and I will admit to you that I could not live under the same roof with such a woman and in daily contact with her without feeling a passionate regard for her. Do you blame me, Mr. Holmes?"

Yes.

"I do not blame you for feeling it. I should blame you if you expressed it, since this young lady was in a sense under your protection."

Holmes understanding the innate consent issues of employer/employee power dynamic relationships here and restoring my faith in the human species.

"I'm not pretending to be any better than I am. I guess all my life I've been a man that reached out his hand for what he wanted, and I never wanted anything more than the love and possession of that woman."

You know that it doesn't make it better if you say 'I accept who I am and who I am is a piece of shit,' right? You can't just brush things under the rug by acknowledging that they're bad. You've missed out the whole step where you try to be a better person. That's an important step. If you acknowledge that you're a piece of shit and then choose to remain being a piece of shit, that's actually kind of worse than if you hadn't acknowledged it in the first place.

And 'possession'? Please someone save that poor woman. He'll get bored of her in a few years as well and try to convince her to hate him by abusing her.

"I said to her that if I could marry her I would, but that it was out of my power. I said that money was no object and that all I could do to make her happy and comfortable would be done." "Very generous, I am sure," said Holmes with a sneer.

Holmes is best boy right here. I am living for this sneer. He is not letting this fucker pretend that he's a reasonable human being.

"When I had sworn—as I did—that she should never be molested again, she consented to remain."

So you had previously been molesting her? Is what you're saying. If I'm reading this right. The word has no doubt shifted in meaning since this story was written, but I'm still willing to bet it wasn't anything good.

"She knew the influence she had over me, and that it was stronger than any other influence in the world. She wanted to use it for good."

She really said 'here is an abusive, would-be adulterer who sexually harassed me and uses his power and influence to control and hurt people' and then went

✨I can fix him!✨

Oh, sweetie, no.

(Well, at least this is the story according to him)

"She believed and said that a fortune for one man that was more than he needed should not be built on ten thousand ruined men who were left without the means of life."

Well, she's not wrong about that.

...we had the address of Sergeant Coventry, of the local police, who had first examined into the affair. He was a tall, thin, cadaverous man, with a secretive and mysterious manner...

'Cadaverous'? Really? Must you go out of your way to insult everyone at every turn, Watson? You couldn't even think of an animal to compare this poor man to, you just went to 'yeah, he looks like a corpse'?

And your friend, Dr. Watson, can be trusted, I know.

You wouldn't be so sure of that if you knew how he was going to describe you.

"Don't you think there might be a case against Mr. Neil Gibson himself?"

I really hope so.

A path led us through the pheasant preserves...

I have never read a more 'landed gentry' phrase in my life.

"I will be at Thor Bridge at nine o'clock. G. DUNBAR."

I do note that the note is not addressed to anyone in particular. Which seems like it might be important.

And Holmes agrees with me that not hiding the murder weapon is a dumb thing to do and therefore it's more likely to have been planted.

So far the only suspects we have other than the woman already in jail are the husband and Mr Bates who seems to really enjoy talking about how terrible his employer is.

The husband doesn't seem to fit, alas, unless this is a very elaborate double bluff, and we only had one of them the other day. Mr Bates doesn't appear to have a motive, but that doesn't mean he doesnt have one. He does seem determined to discredit the guy who wants Miss Dunbar set free.

[wardrobeoftime]

can you make a collage of the emma watson prom dress in harry potter goblet of fire?

I have to think about this. I don't want to support a TERF by promoting a franchise she directly profits from and who puts that money to use by funding the discrimination of the trans community. She says she is supporting women with that but in my opinion she is putting all of us, whether cis or trans, female, male or non-binary, even in more danger than we already face from the partiarchal society around us.

However, I am aware that my impact is probably only very, very small and that Emma Watson herself spoke out against the author's believes. And that even for many trans people, Harry Potter used to be or still is a fantasy world they can find refuge in. I really need to think about it.

If I have any trans followers here, please tell me your opinion as this impacts you even more than me and I would like to hear from you.

[gothamusing]

CYBERPUNK 2077 (ACT I). a collection of memes, adjusted for roleplaying purposes. feel free to edit as you see fit. do not steal. (18+).

chick we're looking for's somewhere in this building.

could at least try to be… nice.

you want nice, supportive? call a damn helpline.

i couldn't done that better myself.

shit, where the hell's our target?

i got a stomach of steel but… this. i wasn't made for this shit, you know.

this does not look good…

trauma shoulda swooped in if she sneezed.

look sharp, not done yet. don't know who's out there.

let's get outta here. elevator gets us to the garage direct.

listen. i got this thing. mind if i borrow your wheels?

won't leave you hangin’. but don't get used to it.

how about i drive you home, eh?

thanks for the heads-up.

word's out the ncpd's gonna put watson on lockdown. if i'm gonna sleep in my own bed tonight, we better put it in fifth.

can't stop diggin' night city.

legends are born here.

man, i'm starvin’. let's grab a tight-bite. whaddaya say?

so you can be nice when you feel like it.

when am i not nice?

throw on some threads meet me downstairs.

how'd you find me? how'd you even know my name?

i get it. you wanna get rich off my blood, sweat and tears.

sheesh - took you long enough! worked up an appetite just waiting.

mentioned somethin' about a surprise yesterday. am i rememberin' right or… just had a brain fart?

just so happens, i think i might've bagged us a sweet-ass J-O-B.

guy's up to his elbows in blood. and you wanna shake his hand, work with him?

everyone's got blood on their hands. you deal with it, you move on.

so what's the gig? we meant to come out in one piece?

don't get me started on fixers. they catch a client, find the cheapest gonk to do the job, then drop their corpse at a landfill.

it's good to see you.

gave you my word i'd pay you back, but this… might be too rich for my blood.

so what's new in the life of (blank)?

go on, kid. show 'em what you're made of. and once you hit the big leagues, don't forget where you came from.

seems like you're the only person in night city who's happy with their lot.

mind if i ask you somethin' right off the bangle?

would you rather live in peace as a nobody, die ripe, old and smellin' slightly of urine? or go down for all times in a blaze of glory, smellin' near like posies, without seein' your thirtieth?

in my line of work i choose to be mr. chill. but folks who try to take advantage, well, they see the beast inside…

call me old fashioned, but i like to look anyone i do biz within the eye.

what can i say - high risk, high reward.

who's the prima donna?

i really look that green to you?

i like to know everything about the people i work with.

c'mon. know a place we can talk where ears won't prick up to listen.

you don't give a rat's dick what anyone thinks. we both know that.

you have trouble accepting compliments?

look, if you've got any spare aces up your sleeve, now's the time to show 'em.

relax. believe it or not, i'm no stranger to tact. in biz or life.

hey, there you are!

enough, already. gonna make me barf.

ok. hit me. just promise me it won't hurt.

there's no time. get it together, please.

someone there with you?

make yourself comfortable. i need a minute to finish.

get everything you need?

know what i see lookin' at you? walking, talking corpses.

please… no shortcuts. you go that route, city'll always win. so be careful.

i have zero reasons to haze you. were in this together. really. trust me that i got this.

do this job for me. i mean me alone. no splitting the payout with anyone else. no middlemen.

you don't mess with fixers. that's the one rule every merc in this city knows - and actually follows.

mistake like that'll cost you your rep. and without a rep, you're nobody.

you sure you wanna do this?

do you want to spend the rest of your days blasting scavs? or become a legend overnight? your choice.

whatever you decide, it stays between us. 

either you fuck others, or you get fucked.

just open the fuckin' door.

cozy place. could use a few plants, though.

let's get outta here. i'm dyin' for some fresh air.

wasn't sure we'd walk out in one piece.

we make a good team.

you got some balls.

we have arrived - the major leagues.

does not get any higher, choom. and you know somethin' else? we fuckin' earned it.

place used to be a morgue - you believe that?

say i wanted a drink named after me - what would i have to do?

think he's still alive? it's been years…

guess dying's a small price to pay for goin' down in history.

thought you'd be pissed, that you'd lose it.

what's got you so antsy?

damn. shit got dark pretty quick.

whaddaya think? why'd he give it all up?

fuck 'im! why do i need to care about some bougie prick and his street-kid fantasies?

now's your chance to make up to me.

there's the awkward silence. you, uh, wanna hear a joke?

can't say i like this...

shush. doubt this cubby's soundproof.

we're done for...

what the fuck just happened in there?

you ok?

i'm leaking a little...

we'll have problems if you don't fucking drive!

you're white as a ghost.

it's ok... i'll hold out...

tone - you'd best watch it.

you're the one who got us into this mess!

nobody asked you to kill the old man!

your face… got blood all over it.

bathroom's there. go get yourself cleaned up.

i'll fucking kill you!

[polyphonical]

Red Hot Island - Chapter 1

[ View on site for better experience♪ ]

???: .......

Location: Starmony Dorm Room (Makoto, Adonis, Chiaki's Room)

Chiaki: …Nn

…Where am I? (-- Aah… Right. This is my room in the dorms…) (Haha. Even if it was only for a moment, I can’t believe I forgot how the room I’ve been living in every day looks like.) (The dream I had was so nostalgic… I think that’s why my head got all confused when I woke up.) (There was something like that, huh… I completely forgot until I had that dream.) (I wonder if he remembers it… That small promise we made in that white room.) (That promise we made while watching our classmates going to the pool. Happily, and full of excitement, despite how hot the summer heat was.) (Well… It’s hard to say that promise was made with the purest intent. It’s more like we were miserably licking each other’s wounds.) (Even though I knew there’s no chance that promise would come true—At that time, my heart definitely felt better.) …Haha. I ended up becoming sentimental. Hmm. If Takamine were here, he’d probably say something like “Morisawa-senpai, you’re basically waving around a death flag.” …Oops. Is it that late already? I can’t just lay here and do nothing. I should probably get ready to go to today’s job.

Location: Star Pro Office

Eichi: Hm...

(I’ll just give this project to him. Next is—Ah, now that I think about it, there were some projects left on hold weren’t there?) (I should respond soon. I have a feeling he’s going to get impatient and come here yelling at me.) [1] --Hm? Hello, Anzu-chan. Good morning. What’s the matter? Hm? You want to hear my opinion? I don’t mind, but… Aah, yes. I have time right now. I was just working on some things that needed to be done by today. So? What was that thing you wanted my opinion on? Ah, perhaps it’s about that proposal you’re holding in your hand? Fufu. You don’t have to be so surprised. It’s basic reasoning, isn’t it Watson? Could I see what you’re holding there? – Thank you. …Aah, this is a project for the ES Fan Event. And the contents are… A sports day at Aquaria Park? Oh, that’s right. Last year, to promote Aquaria Park, wasn’t there a survival game job? If I remember correctly, Hokuto and the others participated, right? [2] Hm. Survival games were too niche, so it was decided that the events would be arranged to be more suitable for everyone. it’s more like variety sports festivals that are shown on programs now.

Next, for the main part… “Treasure hunting”? What’s this? Right, I’m sure it’s just as you say Anzu-chan. It seems the area for western sailboats was added around a month ago. Fufu. I see. Pirates are often associated with water. They can also remind you of treasure. It’s true that pirate manga are popular right now. I think it’s a good idea. It’s clear who the target audience is. Hm? You don’t look satisfied. Is there something you have a problem with? Hm. You’re worried about holding such a large-scale event that isn’t a live all of a sudden? Even up until now, you’ve been in charge of things other than live shows, so I don’t think there’s anything to be worried about. Plus, I don’t think there will be any issues if the work is divided and detailed checks are made throughout. Well, if you’re still worried about it Anzu-chan, how about trying out a limited play test? Hm? Ah, that’s true. I suppose the most efficient way to play test it would be to have multiple people test it at the same time. It increases the chance that something unexpected happening. It’s the easiest way to simulate a situation closer to the real deal. If that’s the case, we could implement the prototype of the treasure hunt game since it’s a limited event. If you want to use the facility, Anzu-chan, I give you full permission to do so. …Hm? Why am I the one allowing you to use the facility? Well, it’s because I’m the one in charge of Aquaria Park. It’s one of the businesses that the Tenshouin conglomerate is running. Eh? Why are you so surprised? I thought you were asking for my opinion because you knew that already. Fufu. It’s okay, I’m giving you permission. If you’re the one asking, I’m more than happy to allow it. ♪ Hm? Um… What’s with that expression? Yes, that’s true. It makes sense that if we’re going to collect data, the people who know what the purpose is should be involved. So you have a request of me? Ah… I understand what you’re saying, Anzu-chan. Well, I suppose I have no choice. Well, if I’m being honest, the benefits of this project are great from Aquaria Park’s perspective. It’d be nice if we could just throw everything in the air and enjoy it as is. But we need to contribute where we can. Hm? That’s true. Then, Anzu-chan, I would like you to choose which members you’d like to go to the pool--

………

Ah, no, it’s nothing. I just remembered something.

………

Could I ask if you leave it to me to gather the test play team? Eh? No… I don’t have any ideas on who, but… You shouldn't worry about it. I’m sure Anzu-chan is busy working on the proposal. You can leave this one to me.

────────────────· · · · · ·♡· · · · · · ────────────────

Directory ♡ Next

I have no idea who he's referring to right here sorry ToT

Referring to the story Pool !!

[severeprincesheep]

Here’s my question for Stephen Fry after he said his trans friends had felt ‘deeply upset’ by some of the comments made by J.K. Rowling: why didn’t you just say to them, ‘So what?’

Fry used to be all about saying ‘So what?’ to people who went on about feeling offended by words. His irritation with offence-takers has even become a meme. ‘It’s now very common to hear people say, “I’m rather offended by that”. As if that gives them certain rights’, he once said. ‘It’s actually nothing more… than a whine. “I find that offensive.” It has no meaning; it has no purpose; it has no reason to be respected as a phrase. “I am offended by that.” Well, so fucking what?’

He’s changed his tune. It is clear from the solemn tones in which he revealed his friends’ ‘upset’ over Rowling’s perfectly reasonable critique of the transgender ideology that he didn’t tell them to stop whining, to quit the self-pity, to get a grip.

‘I have trans friends and intersex friends who are deeply upset by her’, he said when asked about Rowling on Roger Bolton’s BeebWatch podcast last week. He then tried to even things out: ‘[It’s] upsetting to both sides.’ 

The solution? Everyone needs to calm down. The heat and the fury need to be drained from the debate. ‘I would… wish them both to retreat’, he said. ‘And to consider that it is possible for trans people to live full, accepted lives, according to their terms, in society, and for women to have all the rights and dignities that they demand.’

To be fair to Fry, he didn’t betray Rowling, who is a friend of his, as others, like Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson, have; actors whose entire careers sprang from the Harry Potter franchise and yet who have felt content to hint that Rowling is a massive transphobe simply because she understands biology and believes women should have rights. Ungrateful much?

No, Fry said he still counts Rowling as a friend. ‘I know’, he said, ‘that J.K. Rowling doesn’t want to see trans people bullied, alienated, shut out of society, made to feel ashamed, guilty, laughed at, all those things’.

At a time when Twittermobs howl furiously at Rowling, denouncing her as a 21st-century witch whose words wound the vulnerable, and when celebrities and journalists who should know better likewise brand her a bigot and a transphobe, Fry’s partial defence of Rowling is something.

More people ought to acknowledge that Rowling has uttered not one bigoted word about trans people. All she has done is question the idea that one can change one’s sex and that male-bodied people who identify as female should enjoy dominion in women’s spaces and women’s sports. That’s not bigotry – it’s a rational, progressive challenge to the excesses of the modern trans lobby.

Yet there is a problem with Fry’s key point: his implication that both sides in the trans clash have become too fervid and ought now to ‘retreat’. This is a huge misrepresentation. I know it is terribly unfashionable to make moral judgments these days, but the truth of it is that the two parties to this intellectual and social tussle are not moral equivalents. One is more judicious and righteous than the other.

One side – Rowling’s side – makes arguments that are based in truth and reason. The other does not. One side takes as its starting point the biological reality of sex. The other rejects the biological reality of sex. Hence the man who feels that he is a woman is said, by that side, to have the right to disrobe in front of women, to use the toilet alongside women, to beat women in sports and literally beat them in the boxing ring.

Isn’t Mr Fry pro-science? He is famously an atheist and an out and proud humanist. He once said of science, ‘When we want to know what is true and false, there is no better method’. Does that apply to biology, Stephen? Isn’t it the case that there is no better method to determine a person’s sex than through the science of biology?

I doubt that Fry would say that both sides in the discussion of whether Earth is spherical or flat should take a chill pill and ‘retreat’, so why is he saying it about the debate over who counts as a man or woman? To many of us, Mr Fry, the idea that someone born with male genitalia can literally be a woman, even a lesbian if he likes, is as egregious an affront to scientific truth as is the idea that Earth is a flat disc with the North Pole in the middle.

Then there’s the question of what the two sides are demanding. One is calling for men to have the right to enter women’s changing rooms, for some teenagers to have their puberty blocked, and for very young women to have access to mastectomies, despite there being nothing whatsoever wrong with their breasts.

The other believes women’s spaces should be men-free zones. And that teenagers should be encouraged to feel happy with their changing physicality. And that girls, many of whom would have identified as lesbians in the past, should be discouraged from mutilating their perfectly normal bodies.

Moral equivalence? Not a bit of it. One side promotes cuckoo post-science theories that upend women’s rights and cause grave harm to the young. The other side does not. What, exactly, are Ms Rowling and other gender-critical women meant to ‘retreat’ from? From science? From biological reality? From their belief that men are not women? From their own spaces?

I suspect Mr Fry would never ‘retreat’ from his humanism and embrace the superstitious claims of religion, so it is strange that he is essentially advising women to do precisely that.

[doctors-journal]

3 June

The detective had a visitor this afternoon.

I was going to go up to my room, but the detective protested, “If you would be so good as to remain, Doctor, to hear our client’s plea for yourself so that you may come to your own opinion on the matter.”

His visitor burst into laughter. “Are you really a doctor?”

He was a young man, early thirties, a recently healed sprain to his left ankle and several smaller, superficial injuries to his arms, and evidence of prolonged exposure, but in overall good health.

But I answered, “Yes.”

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” he asked with a mischievous smile, but if there was a joke, I didn’t get it.

“Neither. I work in Syria.”

“Of course, of course, there’s always something, isn’t there, Sherlock?” He stepped forward to shake my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m his dear Boswell, or at least I was—I see he’s found another. I don’t suppose you keep a blog?”

“No.”

“Well, at least between the two of us we’d make a satisfactory Watson. How are you getting along? Has he popped the question yet?”

“No, I’m just here while I get everything in order to go back. You’re exes?”

“We briefly shared a flat,” the detective said with a dismissive wave.

“He tried to make me his Watson, more like. We had a fun romp or two, but it wasn’t anything serious. And I’m a reporter; I didn’t have time to run around solving mysteries.”

The detective interrupted, “Are you here on some matter of business, or shall I see you to the door?”

“Oh, alright, alright, no need to get your hat in a twist. I ran into a little mystery while I’ve been on the London beat, and it made me think of you.”

“Do go on.” The detective motioned for the reporter to take a seat, and I sat back down on the couch.

“So, I was interviewing for an article—I can’t say anything about it until it comes out—but one of my sources has run into some trouble that I thought might be right up your alley. He’s a funny old man who collects statues, mostly just trinkets, but apparently, someone thought they were worth enough to break in and shatter one of his busts.”

“Not Napoleon?” the detective asked.

“No, but I thought that would catch your interest. The police, of course, don’t have any leads and are pretty indifferent to the whole thing if the old coot’s to be believed, but I thought you might be able to shine a light in the darkness or whatever it is you do. What do you say, Sherlock?”

“It certainly presents some features of interest—Doctor?”

I was surprised to find all eyes on me. “I don’t see what the fuss is. It’s just a statue, isn’t it?”

“That is precisely the question, Doctor! Why would someone go through the trouble of breaking into a man’s flat to shatter a plaster bust?” To the reporter, he said, “I am much obliged to you for bringing this matter to my attention.”

“All I ask in return is first rights to the story.”

The detective gave a dismissive wave, but I thought there might have been some humour in his tone, “I claim no credit. My name need figure in no newspaper. The work itself, the pleasure of finding a field for my peculiar powers, is my highest reward.”

The reporter excused himself with a laugh to return to his work.

“And we have our own work to attend to,” the detective declared when the reporter had gone.

The detective disappeared into his room and, a moment later, brought out a large box, which he set on the coffee table. He sat back down in front of it and opened it, and it unfolded into three tiers of shelves crammed with more gels and powders than I could count. I hardly knew what any of it was, but he clearly knew what he was doing.

I guessed that he was going to start powdering his face, but instead, he began with a wad of clay that he moulded around his nose and eyes. Then, I think, he layered on some powder with a big brush. There were also several smaller brushes involved, half a dozen more powders and fluids, and at one point a pencil or two that he used to draw lines onto his face that somehow disappeared into natural folds in his skin. Lastly, there was a thinning wig and scruffy beard.

When the remarkable transformation was complete, he looked like he had aged twenty-some years in as many minutes, his cheeks filled so that he looked well-nourished, healthy despite some rosacea. However, beyond that, he looked like he was truly an entirely different man with a particularly prominent, bulbous nose and a perpetually surprised air that must have come from something the detective did to his eyes.

He grinned at me and held his mouth open to fit in a pair of dentures with crooked, yellowed teeth. Then he returned the box to his room and he was gone for just a moment before he came limping out, dressed in several threadbare layers. He could have been any homeless man on the streets of London, and I doubt I would have recognized him at all if I hadn’t seen the transformation myself—and even then, it was hard to see the detective beneath all the makeup.

He took a hobbling bow.

I had to ask, “What’s the plan?”

“A conjurer gets no credit when he has explained his trick,” the detective said, but I saw a rare smile beneath his fake whiskers. “I have my methods. Don’t wait up, Doctor.”

And with that he was gone.

He’s still out now. It’s gotten late—the sun has set and a steady rain taps against the window. I just hope he knows what he’s doing. It would be easy to suffer from hypothermia on the streets tonight.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, I have a song I want to post, but it’s not normally my sort of song. I almost said it’s not a good song, but I don’t know, maybe it is. Calling this “not a good song” is very judgmental of a genre I do not generally listen to. It’s not my sort of thing, normally, but I believe it was very popular in its day so I guess people who like this sort of thing like it, and that would make it a good song.

Anyway, I need to justify my posting of this song, why I like it despite it being not normally my thing, so I’m going to do that in this post. Doing that will probably get long, and as a spoiler alert, it isn’t really about the song. But I did actually start this because I was listening to that song today, and wanted to post it, and then started thinking of all the things I’d have to explain in order to do so.

I first heard that song in December 2020, when the spot I’d reached in my panel show watching was Never Mind the Buzzcocks (beginning of Simon Amstell era to the end). That’s not a great show for all kinds of reasons, but I did really like Simon Amstell and Bill Bailey and Noel Fielding (this was before I knew about the “probably slept with a teenager” thing, but anyway, different issue), and in a sort of guilty pleasure way, probably coming from the same thing that makes people like reality TV, I enjoyed watching people be mean to the vapid music-based celebrities. The whole thing was trainwreck but I enjoyed it.

I believe this song’s heyday was 2010, because that’s when it started being all over Never Mind the Buzzcocks. I think the first time I heard it was when it came on the intros round and Mark Watson got it immediately, which surprised me because it didn’t seem like his sort of music. But I understood better once it started appearing all over all the episodes. It was clearly really big in Britain at the time, although I’d never heard of it before seeing that show.

I started missing the point of jokes because so many of them referenced that song, so I looked it up on YouTube and listened to it. And I was surprised when, despite it not being normally my sort of thing, I liked it. Partly, it is catchy. I have to give it credit for that. If this music is your sort of thing, I see why people would like it.

Also, it immediately made me think of a friend of mine, in a way I liked. I’m not even sure why that’s the case, because it basically comes down to it being a song where someone brags about being successful and wants to have a wild night of drinking a lot of alcohol, and that is, you know, a lot of songs. By that logic I could put on any random shit from the radio and have it remind me of this. But for some reason that song really did.

I almost sent it to my friend, but I didn’t, because it was the end of 2020 and we were in lockdown. This isn’t the sort of thing you just send someone in a Facebook message and suggest we listen to separately and sober. So I thought, when this is over, whenever we get out of here and can do things together again, I’ll show him. I’ll put this on at his place when we’re all drinking, which is the appropriate context for this song, not a message during lockdown.

I think what got me about this song is it wasn’t just about having that night, it was about one person trying to get it going. That’s the part that reminded me of that friend. He was always trying to escalate things. At the pub at 11 PM (on a weeknight, much of the time), asking us who wants to go back to his place and have more. When we got there, he’d always have a bottle of vodka in his freezer or whiskey on his counter cupboard, and if he was running low on his usual drinks he’d pull something out of the back of some cupboard and say we can drink this random stuff. He always had something. He always had enough to keep us up until 3 or 4 AM, when we’d all pass out in his living room.

When we woke up in the morning, he liked to make eggs and toast for anyone who’d stayed, and he’d also make Caesars, insisting that a bit of alcohol in the morning was a hangover cure. I’m pretty sure this was bullshit (I mean, there might technically be some truth to it, but we never really got hangovers, and it was just an excuse to drink), but I’d usually have a small one before going home. Afterward, I’d often hear about how for him, the one morning cocktail turned into more, and then he’d met up with other people and just kept drinking.

It definitely was not a healthy way to live, and I used to justify it by saying at least I’m not as bad as him. I was doing it a few times a week, but he was doing it almost every day, so it felt like I wasn’t so bad by comparison. So that was my justification, and his justification was the sport we did. He used to say he liked being an athlete because the regular high level of exercise kept him physically healthy, and that way he could get away with drinking so much. He was sort of joking about that, but also sort of not.

Whatever his reasoning, he did our sport very, very well. He originally came from a different city, but I’d known who he was for many years, as he was something of a celebrity in that community. He was one of our top athletes in the country; I used to watch him at tournaments, and then watch him on YouTube and livestreams when he competed internationally, but I’d never met him. Some of my varsity teammates who were better than me, good enough to go on those international trips and hang out with the other athletes at that level – they knew him. I’d heard some stories from them about how much fun he was, and I was vaguely jealous that they got to meet him.

It was quite a few years ago now, but I will never forget the first contact I had with him. At the time, I was in charge of my team’s website, and I got emails that went to the Contact Us page. I got a message one day that read like any other, saying he had trained in another city but had recently moved to town and wanted to come out to our practice. I read this while mentally formulating the reply, in which I’d ask this person how long that had trained and how old they were, until I got to the name at the bottom. He’d written this whole email as though he were a completely normal person, and then casually signed it [name of a fucking celebrity, as far as I was concerned]. I immediately called up all my friends to tell them.

I remember his first day, too. I’d replied with our schedule, and he’d said he’d try to come out that week, but I think I didn’t quite believe it would really happen. Then one day, I was walking around the middle of practice, looked up, saw a celebrity out of the corner of my eye, thought, “Oh look, it’s [that guy],” and then one second later I did a double take: “Holy shit, it’s [that guy]!” Went over, shook his hand, and he introduced himself to me like I didn’t already fucking know who he was. At the end of practice, trying to seem way more casual than I felt, I told him that the coaches usually to a pub after practice, if he wants to come, but of course it’s cool either way, I know he’s new to the city… he said that sounds great and he’ll give me his number so I can text him the address. I was so excited about having his number.

He joined us at the pub, and seemed to not only have no ego about his celebrity status, he was unaware of it. Talked to us like it was all normal. Was as interested in our stories about our little team and the athletes we hang out with, as we were in his stories about world team trips. Never sounded like he was intentionally name dropping or anything, he just didn’t think any of it made him better than us. It was a few weeks later when we got properly drunk with him for the first time, and told him how starstruck we all were with him at first. He found it hilarious.

He turned our tradition of going to the pub after practices into going to the pub and then drinking more, often ending up back at his place. I loved it. Part of it was because I had a sense that it wouldn’t last. We were into our late twenties, and our friends were starting to think about serious relationships and kids and buying places away from downtown. I valued these friendships and that community so much, and it was what I wanted from life. I didn’t want the marriage and kids thing, I just wanted this. I had this sense that there was a deadline to it all, so I wanted to enjoy it as much as I possibly could while I lasted. I said yes every time, stayed up until 4 AM, didn’t want to miss an opportunity.

Mark Watson has a bit, that he used a lot in the early-to-mid 2010s, about how he wasn’t an alcoholic or anything, but may have had a bit of a problem with drinking. Every time I hear that, I think, that is exactly the sort of bullshit distinction that a person with an actual drinking problem would make. And I know that, because I have repeatedly described times in my life when I was drinking too much as “I’m not an alcoholic or anything, but maybe have a bit of a problem with drinking.”

Mark Watson also had a habit of telling us that he used to have a problem with alcohol, it got bad “last year”, and here are some jokes about how it was bad “last year”, but luckily he doesn’t have that problem anymore. However, he did variations on that in his material every year for several years in a row, which sort of defeats his point.

I’m aware that I might sound a bit like that when I say I’m not nearly so bad with alcohol now, but I promise I'm really not. I still drink more than a doctor would recommend, but to be fair, doctors recommend that you drink basically nothing. I drink significantly less less than I did in those years when I was hanging out with that friend all the time, and don’t recommend living the way I did for a while.

I obviously don’t mean to actually blame this friend for how much I drank, it was entirely my choice to say yes every time. And to use his much worse problem to justify my own. But honestly, I loved every moment of it. I’ve at times Googled how to know if you have a drinking problem (for the record, two fairly strong signs of that would be listening to Mark Watson’s comedy routines about his drinking problem and saying “Oh yeah, I get that”, and Googling whether you have a drinking problem), and the answers are all about it ruining your life. Messing up your relationships, your job, your prospects. Reading that stuff made me think that what we were doing really was okay, because that never happened to me. I almost never regretted it. I could drink until 4 AM and still go to work and be fine. I never, ever drank when I was expected to be at work or somewhere like that. I didn’t go out and cause problems and get in fights or anything. Mainly, my memories associated with alcohol were sitting on that friend’s couch, playing music and talking about the sorts of things that don’t come out while sober, and having a really really good time. That only drawbacks were potential liver damage and knowing it couldn’t last forever.

Of all the people in our group of friends, he was the one I thought would last, though. He wasn’t looking to get out of that life, to find a wife and have kids and move away. He loved exactly what we had, which was a life revolving around this sport and the friendships. He dated sometimes, and slept with women a lot. This didn’t surprise me, because I’d known before he got here that in our sport, all the female athletes had crushes on him. But didn’t realize quite how often he’d taken them up on their offers until I got to know him, and he never ran out of stories about it. Which I realize reads like he was being a dick and bragging, but it didn’t feel like he was. It felt like he just liked things and was eager to tell people about everything. And, you know, good on him. Nothing wrong with being a person who’s so cool and successful that everyone wants to sleep with him, and then taking a lot of people up on those offers, when it’s all consensual and above board, which it was.

Obviously it didn’t last forever. COVID occurred, and everything stopped. Or I thought everything stopped. I felt like it should also have paused the clock that was counting down to the deadline of when all my friends get new things in life and move on. It seems only fair, we were supposed to have more time. But if anything, it accelerated that clock.

That’s not how I lost this friend, though. Exactly two years ago today, he died of a brain aneurysm. It was very sudden, obviously, as those things always are. For all the ways he never saw himself as the celebrity he was to me, he did go out at 27 like he was Jimmy Fucking Hendrix or something.

He was found in his apartment two days later, and for about 24 hours, before the autopsy results came back, we didn’t know what had happened. Obviously, given everything about him, he was not coping well with lockdowns. So we were briefly worried it might have been something he did to himself, and there was relief when we learned it wasn’t, so none of us had to feel like maybe we could have done something to prevent it. It wasn’t preventable, it was random.

Well, not completely random, and maybe a bit preventable. I did a bunch of research, and learned that while no one knows a direct cause of brain aneurysms, they have been linked to alcohol abuse. So that casts a different light on his talk of how he liked being an athlete because it meant he could drink too much and still be healthy.

They livestreamed his funeral because it was the middle of lockdown, and his mother had to sit by herself. A couple of months later Prince Phillip died, and everyone was talking about it being so sad that the queen had to sit alone with all her wealth at the funeral of a racist. I couldn’t stand the idea that people thought that was where our sympathy should be, after I’d watched a mother sit alone on a plastic chair before burying her son.

So, the point is that I never got to send him the fucking song. It’s weird that what makes me think of him is a song he never even heard, but that’s what I’ve been playing today, on the two-year anniversary. It’s not normally my sort of thing, but surely this explains it a bit.

The other point of this post is I believe tonight, I will be remembering him in the way he would have wanted. Which is kind of a joke, where people say “It’s what he would have wanted” while knowing they’re just trying to justify drinking, but to be fair, in this case, it is actually what he would have wanted.

So, you know, if I make any incoherent posts in the near future (even less coherent than this one, as I’m entirely sober now), blame it on that.

[rachelflad2022]

Chemical Bliss: Activating Happiness Pathways in the Brain 😍🧠

Well, it's officially that time of year where the days get longer and the nights get shorter thanks to Daylight Savings. No more do we need to worry about seasonal depression, at least for a few months. Society will experience less darkness and more light as we make our way to summer! Thank you to sugarsprinklesoul for the post I re-blogged earlier this week, which gave me the idea to do some research on the topic of activating "happy chemicals" in our brains. I encourage you to read this, do your own research, and find the ways you too can release these chemicals to live your life to the fullest!

So the first "happy" chemical is Dopamine, which is considered the "reward" chemical and is a neurotransmitter that is made in the brain and acts as chemical messenger between the nerve cells in your brain and the rest of your body. According to www.myclevelandclinic.org, Dopamine plays a role in movement, memory, attention, sleep, learning, pleasure, mood and more. Dopamine can be released by completing a task, eating, and taking care of yourself. For me, releasing Dopamine would mean first completing my daily tasks. I am a person who makes a list of my daily chores (like dishes, vacuuming, laundry, taking care of my daughter and so on) and completing it in a timely fashion. Next would come selfcare, which for me, would be a nice long shower. I love using face masks to relax. I also have a back massager that I use when I get stressed too.

The second chemical is Oxytocin, a hormone and a neurotransmitter. According to WebMd, hormones travel through the blood and act on cells. Electrical signals in your brain and nerves cause chemicals called neurotransmitters to release and act on other brain and nerve cells. Oxytocin does both.‌ It is the hormone responsible for positive emotions like trust and happiness and is known for releasing love hormones. The post that was shared by myself earlier this week states that playing with a dog or a baby can help activate these chemicals, also holding hands with someone you love can too. For me, spending quality time with my husband would release this hormone. I am a romantic, so I like holding his hand.

The third chemical is Serotonin. I found a great article about Serotonin on Harvard's Health website, an article written by Stephanie Watson, which can be found here: Serotonin: The natural mood booster - Harvard Health. In the article, Watson says that Serotonin levels can be linked to depression if they are low, however, it is possible to raise levels without medication. She says one natural way to increase serotonin is by working out. "When you pedal your bicycle or lift weights, your body releases more tryptophan, the amino acid your brain uses to make serotonin. This boost in serotonin (along with other endorphins and other neurotransmitters) is why many people get that feeling of euphoria known as a "runner's high" after an intense workout." Another way to release Serotonin is being in nature, near water, meditating and getting sunlight. I personally feel a Serotonin boost when I am out hiking with my family: in the woods, with people I love, and getting sunlight. My regular family hikes are what I am constantly looking forward to, and my husband and I made sure we regularly take the kids outdoors to explore.

The last chemical I saw on this blog post was Endorphins, which deal with pain relief. This particular chemical is one I am not as familiar with, but learning more about every day, as I try to rely less on taking medication when I am not feeling well. I am still on anxiety and depression medication and 100% believe that if that is what works for you, you should take it! There should NEVER be a stigma for doing what's best for your own health and I am pretty open about taking this medication because for me right now, that's what works. However, I am trying to find more natural ways to help with my depression issues. Endorphins help boost self-esteem, give you relief from pain, and reduce stress and anxiety. Again, running can be a solution to releasing endorphins. Essential oils help as well. So, I didn't know this until I did some research, but the term "Endorphin" is a mixture of the words “endogenous” (meaning produced within the body) and “morphine” (an opiate pain reliever). They are known to give a sense of euphoria. Laughing with friends and eating dark chocolate would be a great example, and probably the two best examples for myself personally.

Well, after doing some research and finding out ways to help boost my mood and relax me, I personally find this information valuable and will probably go further in the research. I've always been someone who is interested in psychology and related studies. I encourage you to do your own research and find some healthy solutions for you to be able to release these chemicals for your body (it's good for it!).

In a world where sometimes the negative outweighs the positive, a little selfcare goes a long way.

#selfcare #love #dopamine #oxytocin #serotonin #endorphins #humans #humanbrain