#murdoch mysteries imagine

[moshiimagines]

There's not enough imagines for Murdoch Mysteries, fluff or smut, so i suppose i'll have to do it 🙄

[felixitous]

started watching Murdoch Mysteries but how am i supposed to take it seriously when Murdoch looks like this all the time

[beyondthislifetime]

rip dr llewellyn francis you would've loved the phrase "this could've been an email"

[snug-as-bugalugs-in-rugalugs]

New Murdoch Mysteries guessing game just dropped besties-- try to remember who all the characters on the character kitchen towel were and fail miserably because WHO THE BLOODY HELL IS SLORACH?

[mwagneto]

omg <- remembered watts is gay canonically

[doctormichaelaquinn]

The Imperial Coroner is giving me Murdoch Mysteries vibes and I'm here for it.

[olivia-sementsova]

Spotlight on the Murdoch House

One of the things I wish I could do on this blog is to share with you the artwork that I am making right now. But because I work on a TV show, I can’t do that, I have to keep it secret until the show airs. Now I wholeheartedly agree with this, not just because it lets me keep my job but also because I know how shitty spoilers can be. But what I can tell you about is the work I did on previous seasons. Today I want to revisit the drawing of the Murdoch House.

This project gave me the opportunity to imagine things that don't exist and fill in the gaps using problem-solving and creativity, which i love to do. And in my art, I want to include and celebrate people just as they are, in this illustration, I got to do that in a bit of a sideways way. I was able to celebrate the work of Bob Sher the production designer for Murdoch Mysteries. He had designed a really beautiful interior set for the Murdoch House and with this drawing, I could help show that off. I wasn't drawing his portrait, I was drawing his work and I think his work is an extension of himself.

I really wanted to do this justice because I wanted Bob and anyone else who had worked on this set to feel proud of what they did because it was beautiful! I also really enjoy imagining spaces that don't exist, I got to fully imagine what this fictional house is like, filling in the gaps that were left after filming.

My task was to draw the exterior view, and a plan view (the top-down architectural drawing) and highlight a few of the architectural features.

The exterior view is based on a quick establishing shot of the front door of the Murdoch house. I got to do a little bit of Architectural design as I changed the proportions of the actual house filmed in the show to match the story we were telling. There seems to only be one shot that is reused over an over again for the exterior and the shot only gives a glimpse of the front door. It was filmed on location in the outskirts of Toronto and as far as I know, we will never return to that location again. There was also an old pixelated photo of the same house. So what I had to go on was this one piece of footage, a pixelated photo, the interior set layout and the verbal description of how Bob envisioned the exterior.

Sets are not built like a house, one room doesn't logically lead to the next and could be on the opposite end of the studio. The different rooms are pieced together in how the actors move through them and the editing process. So I needed to alter the plan view of the set to match how the audience perceives the Murdoch house and not how it is actually built. I based what I drew on the actual set, but made changes to the layout, moving rooms around to make sense like a real house.

Going on the deserted set of the Murdoch House and taking reference pictures was really enjoyable. Being on that quiet and darkened set felt so peaceful and I got to see all the lovely details that the designer and build team had put in. It's wild but it feels like a real home and that isn't always the case with sets. Finding the details that would accompany the exterior view and elevations was easy. The hard part was whittling them down to just a few that would fit on the page. Showing off the doors was a specific request and those were designed by both Ryan O'Connell the set designer and Bob the production designer.

This drawing was for one of the early episodes of season 17, it was supposed to be placed above the mantle in the Murdoch living room. But I don't think it ever made it to camera! I remember there being some issues in regard to continuity from episode to episode. (We film out of order) And in a later episode, there was something scripted that had to take its place above the mantle. But I got a great deal of satisfaction from making it. I got to imagine a place that doesn't exist, helped to tell a story and I got to celebrate the hard work of creative people. And I know that it made Bob happy because it now has a lovely home in the hallway just outside the art offices.

[violent-optimism]

Some thoughts about the Murdoch Mysteries Musical (Mild Spoilers)

I loved it, the whole thing, even when they weren't singing. It could have been a pretty compelling mystery all on its own

Everyone did a much better job at singing than I would have expected but Helene Joy stole the freaking show

The duet with Watts and Miss Hart might be my favourite song in the episode. Not only do their voices work so damn well together but it's such a beautiful, compelling melody

I love the notion of both Yannick and Murdoch not being super enthusiastic about the singing but then coming around to it. Murdoch and Julia's song about seeing each other in Susannah was so touching and well written

Although I would have been fine without it, I think it was smart to give a logical explanation as to why Murdoch is hearing all the singing. I imagine it made it way less silly for the more reluctant viewers

No spoilers, but having THAT villain come back was super unexpected and I genuinely didn't see it coming. I liked that he got a song too

The lighting, camerawork, dance choreography, etc. everything just worked so well!! It felt like the cast and crew were giving even more effort than usual. The entire episode looked and sounded fantastic.

I don't know what else to say besides WHAT TOOK THEM SO LONG??

[laurastacey]

Murdoch Mysteries should bring back Dorrie from Dial M for Murdoch. I don't even know what they'd do for child murderers back then, but I can't imagine he would have been hanged so he must still be out there somewhere. He could make an excellent recurring villain 13 years later (or however many years in Murdochian time)

[transformativeworksandcultures]

TWC 42: Fandom and Platforms [Special Issue]

Editorial

Maria K. Alberto, Effie Sapuridis, and Lesley Willard; Putting forward platforms in fan studies

Article

David Kocik, PS Berge, Camille Butera, Celeste Oon, and Michael Senters; "Imagine a place:" Power and intimacy in fandoms on Discord

Kimberly Kennedy; "It's not your tumblr": Commentary-style tagging practices in fandom communities

Axel-Nathaniel Rose; #web-weaving: Parallel posts, commonplace books, and networked technologies of the self on Tumblr

Sam Binnie; Using the Murdoch Mysteries fandom to examine the types of content fans share online

Gamze Kelle; How Covid-19 has affected fan-performer relationships within visual kei

Rhea Vichot; The expression of sehnsucht in the Japanese city pop revival fandom through visual media on Reddit and YouTube

Welmoed Fenna Wagenaar; Discord as a fandom platform: Locating a new playground

Sourojit Ghosh and Cecilia Aragon; Leveraging community support and platform affordances on a path to more active participation: A study of online fan fiction communities

Paul Ocone; Fandom and the ethics of world-making: Building spaces for belonging on BobaBoard

Amber Moore; Analyzing an archive of allyish distributed mentorship in "Speak" fan fiction comments and reviews

Jionghao Liu and Ling Yang; Censorship on Japanese anime imported into mainland China

Lin Zhang; Boys’ love in the Chinese platformization of cultural production

Matt Griffin and Greg Loring-Albright; Platforming the past: Nostalgia, video games, and A Hat in Time

Irissa Cisternino; Players, production and power: Labor and identity in live streaming video games

Symposium

Yvonne Gonzales and Celeste Oon; Public versus private aca-fan identities and platforms: An academic dialogue

Dawn Walls-Thumma; The fading of the elves: Techno-volunteerism and the disappearance of Tolkien fan fiction archives

Martyna Szczepaniak; The differences between author’s notes on FanFiction.net and AO3

Muxin Zhang; Fandom image-making and the fan gaze in transnational K-pop fan cam culture

Sabrina Mittermeier; "One day longer, one day stronger": Online platforms, fan support and the 2023 WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes

Book review

Sebastian F. K. Svegaard reviews "Vidding: A history" by Francesca Coppa

Laurel P. Rogers reviews "Fandom, the next generation," edited by Bridget Kies and Megan Connor

Axel-Nathaniel Rose reviews "Mediatized fan play: Moods, modes and dark play in networked communities," by Line Nybro Petersen

Multimedia

Naomi Jacobs, Katherine Crighton, and Shivhan Szabo; Building the spear: A demonstration in faking and remaking real feelings for an imaginary work

Rachel Loewen; "Darkness never prevails": Doctor Who Covid-19 videos as keystones for pandemic engagement

[mariana-oconnor]

The Lion's Mane pt 2

Fair warning: I've had a fever for like half of the day, so this is liable to be more unhinged than usual. Everything feels sort of floaty and I'm pretty sure I had a dissociative episode this morning. Fun. Woooooo!

"That's The Haven, as Bellamy called it. The one with the corner tower and slate roof."

His house has a tower? No fair.

There was no mistaking that tall, angular, straggling figure. It was Ian Murdoch, the mathematician. A moment later we confronted him upon the road.

Is he hiding a jellyfish catapult up his jumper? That's the real question.

Is he three jellyfish in a trenchcoat?

"I am your subordinate, sir, under your roof. I am not aware that I owe you any account of my private actions." Stackhurst's nerves were near the surface after all he had endured. Otherwise, perhaps, he would have waited. Now he lost his temper completely. "In the circumstances your answer is pure impertinence, Mr Murdoch." "Your own question might perhaps come under the same heading."

Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!

"You will kindly make fresh arrangements for your future as speedily as you can." "I had intended to do so. I have lost to-day the only person who made The Gables habitable."

omg McPherson and Murdoch unrequited love enemies to lovers 100k angst hurt no comfort major character death

Murdoch needs to set out on a mission of revenge to murder all jellyfish. I still don't like him because throwing dogs through windows is an unforgivable offence, but VENGEANCE must be his new creed. He can turn the power of maths to his cause.

One man's quest to avenge his beloved. A tale for the ages. Revenge is best served wet.

I feel like there's a jelly and ice cream joke to be made there, but I don't think he should eat the jellyfish, even if that might be one of the only ways to kill them for good.

"My son here" -indicating a powerful young man, with a heavy, sullen face, in the corner of the sitting-room -- "is of one mind with me that Mr McPherson's attentions to Maud were insulting."

Maybe Mr Bellamy the younger is three jellyfish in a trenchcoat! Or maybe the whole family is jellyfish shapeshifters!

The possibilities are endless.

(the idea of jellyfish shapeshifters is going to give me the weirdest fever dreams tonight istg.)

Who could have imagined that so rare a flower would grow from such a root and in such an atmosphere? Women have seldom been an attraction to me, for my brain has always governed my heart, but I could not look upon her perfect clear-cut face, with all the soft freshness of the downlands in her delicate colouring, without realizing that no young man would cross her path unscathed.

Ugh, Holmes. Come on. I was counting on you! I'm going to lay the blame for this one on ACD and say that he suffered from the inability to describe a pretty woman without being horny about it, no matter who his narrator was supposed to be,

"There is no reason why my sister should be brought into the matter," growled the younger man.

Her boyfriend's dead, bitch. There's a lot of reasons. Stop being a dickhead and start being a comforting brother. Honestly. Stupid jellyfishifter.

She listened to a short account from my companion, with a composed concentration which showed me that she possessed strong character as well as great beauty. Maud Bellamy will always remain in my memory as a most complete and remarkable woman.

Well, at least she isn't getting brain fever. We are all grateful.

"Bring them to justice, Mr Holmes. You have my sympathy and my help, whoever they may be." It seemed to me that she glanced defiantly at her father and brother as she spoke.

OMG they are jellyfishifters! She knows! She knows!

"I see no reason for mystery," she answered. "We were engaged to be married, and we only kept it secret because Fitzroy's uncle, who is very old and said to be dying, might have disinherited him if he had married against his wish. There was no other reason."

The ancient enmity between the jellyfishifters and the sea turtle shifters! It's Romeo and Juliet meets Waterworld (I've never seen Waterworld, but I assume that it is a war epic about the ongoing conflicts between jellyfish and sea turtles. Or I do now, because it has occurred to me.)

"There was a time when I thought he was. But that was all changed when he understood the relations between Fitzroy and myself."

The tragedy. The homosexual pining.

"Sad story this, sir, about Mr McPherson's dog," said she one evening. I do not encourage such conversations, but the words arrested my attention. "What of Mr McPherson's dog?" "Dead, sir. Died of grief for its master."

Best. Boy. Survived being thrown through a plate glass window only to die of grief.

Also, what the fuck, Holmes? You 'don't encourage such conversations'? You're the only person she sees all day. TALK TO THE WOMAN.

So the dog was also attacked by the jellyfish. Someone really needs to mark that beach off limits.

You will know, or Watson has written in vain, that I hold a vast store of out-of-the-way knowledge without scientific system, but very available for the needs of my work. My mind is like a crowded box-room with packets of all sorts stowed away therein—so many that I may well have but a vague perception of what was there.

Have you finally remembered that lions man jellyfish exist?

...Inspector Bardle of the Sussex Constabulary—a steady, solid, bovine man with thoughtful eyes...

Animal comparisons as well. It's like we have Watson back.

"What would my position be if I let him slip away with all this evidence against him?"

You have literally 0 evidence.

"But I have examined them very carefully with a lens. They have peculiarities." "What are they, Mr Holmes?"

Well, one peculiarity is that they're jellyfish stings. So write that down.

"A most ingenious comparison. Or shall we say a very stiff cat-o'-nine-tails with small hard knots upon it?"

bdsm play gone very wrong... or jellyfish?

It's a difficult one.

Ian Murdoch staggered into the room, pallid, dishevelled, his clothes in wild disorder, clawing with his bony hands at the furniture to hold himself erect. “Brandy! Brandy!” he gasped, and fell groaning upon the sofa.

BRANDY! The triumphant return! And Watson isn't even here to administer it.

Get that man some brandy and cure him of... what's probably jellyfish stings, I guess. Does the brandy go in his mouth or does he bathe in it?

Half a tumbler of the raw spirit brought about a wondrous change.

If there is anything this year of Sherlock Holmes stories has taught me, it's that there is a panacea, it is brandy and we should all worship it. I need some brandy, clearly. Why am I taking paracetamol when I should be downing brandy?

At any moment he might die. More and more brandy was poured down his throat, each fresh dose bringing him back to life.

Best. Story. Ever.

I love this. It's perfect. No notes. Save that man's life with brandy, Holmes. If only you'd had a hip flask on you before. Can dogs drink brandy? I mean, there's that legend about St Bernards carrying brandy with them. Clearly dogs and brandy go together.

I can't believe brandy is saving the day. This is excellent.

Pads of cotton-wool soaked in salad-oil seemed to take the agony from the strange wounds.

OK, brandy and salad oil. Sure, why not.

I feel like he might be about to die of alcohol poisoning instead. But sure.

“I think I can, Stackhurst. Come with me now! And you, Inspector, come along! We will see if we cannot deliver this murderer into your hands.”

No, do not pick up the jellyfish with your hands.

“Cyanea!” I cried. “Cyanea! Behold the Lion's Mane!” The strange object at which I pointed did indeed look like a tangled mass torn from the mane of a lion. It lay upon a rocky shelf some three feet under the water, a curious waving, vibrating, hairy creature with streaks of silver among its yellow tresses. It pulsated with a slow, heavy dilation and contraction.

I'm really glad everyone is now on the same page, but I do have to say, Holmes, that clearly you had suspicions and you still allowed people to swim in that pool. That's reckless endangerment of lives, if ever I saw it. I am even more disappoint.

Even if you were wrong about it, you still shouldn't have let people swim there until you were sure you were wrong. Poor show.

There was a big boulder just above the ledge, and we pushed it until it fell with a tremendous splash into the water. When the ripples had cleared we saw that it had settled upon the ledge below. One flapping edge of yellow membrane showed that our victim was beneath it. A thick oily scum oozed out from below the stone and stained the water round, rising slowly to the surface.

A yuck and B, now the jellyfishifters are going to come after you.

Could have just put up signs telling people not to swim there rather than crushing the poor thing. It didn't mean to kill anyone.

"He gulped down brandy, a whole bottleful, and it seems to have saved his life."

✨Brandy!✨

“No, Mr. Murdoch. I was already upon the track, and had I been out as early as I intended I might well have saved you from this terrific experience.”

Yeah, feel bad, Holmes. Feel bad!

"The poor fellow had never thought to dry himself, and so I in turn was led to believe that he had never been in the water."

This I don't get. Was he not wet when they found him? Whatever. Doesn't matter. It was the jellyfish all along. There were no jellyfish catapults alas, and perhaps no jellyfishifters, but we aren't told whether the younger Mr Bellamy had gone suspiciously missing following the crushing of the jellyfish, are we?

But one thing we can all rest assured knowing: Brandy is the true hero. Three cheers for brandy!

[set-phasers-to-whump]

darkness & light

prompt: shadows, "who's there?"

whumpee: william murdoch

fandom: murdoch mysteries

here's a new fandom from yours truly for once :) i'm on s8 and have been for lord knows how long but i truly adore this show, just haven't posted any fic for it before. hopefully my characterization isn't too bad, but this is my first proper fic for these guys so keep that in mind lol. hope you like!

He hears, quite faintly, a clattering sound from deep inside the warehouse. Curiosity piqued, he steps further into the building, shining his light into the shadows. 

Vague shapes appear before him in the dim light. Boxes, half-unpacked. Stacks of wooden planks. Shelves piled high with various wares. 

The noise does not repeat itself. All is still and silent, but William knows what he’d heard. 

Someone is here. And this building is supposed to be empty. 

He travels further and further into the dark confines of the warehouse, his light no match for the thick, dense shadows that reduce all but the closest objects to nothing more than dim smudges. 

He walks around a shelf of dusty cloth and becomes suddenly aware of a presence behind him. 

“Who’s there?” he asks, as he whirls around to face the unwelcome presence. 

He sees the outline of a man, hand raised, and before he can so much as take a breath, the man’s arm comes down and a sharp pain explodes through his skull. Everything goes brilliantly white, and then black. 

--

His head is pounding and his entire left side is sore. These are the first things he is aware of, when he wakes. 

He opens his eyes. Everything is dark, but he can see that there is someone looming over him. 

He immediately attempts to get up, aware that the body above him is likely the man who’d attacked him, but the second he lifts his head there’s a terrible noise in his ears and he feels sick. He stops trying to move quite quickly. 

He needn’t have worried, in any case. The figure above him crouches down, and says, concerned, “Are you alright, sir?”

George. 

“I’m okay, George. A little dizzy, that’s all.”

“What happened?”

“There was a man. He struck me over the head, I don’t recall with what. Something metallic and hard. You haven’t seen him?”

“No.” George sounds surprised. “Henry noticed you had gone missing, and one of the lads by the dock said he thought he’d seen you come in here. He didn’t mention anyone else.”

This gives William the determination he needs to push himself into a sitting position, despite the awful reaction it triggers in his head. “We need to examine the building. He may still be inside.”

“With all due respect, sir, I’m not sure that he is. I…was rather zealous in my efforts to find you. Shouting, and such. I imagine I would have scared him off.”

“Right. Well.” William tries to get his thoughts in order. His mind feels as though it is trapped under water. He cannot think properly, which is incredibly disconcerting. He tries not to let George know, not wanting to worry the constable. 

“Yes?”

Ah. He’d been saying something. 

“Have you concluded your interviews?” This is not the question he’d wanted to ask, but it’ll do. 

“Yes, sir. No one’s seen anything unusual, apart from a lady who thought she’d seen a ghost two nights ago.”

William nods, which proves to be a bad idea. His head spins, the pain increasing until he feels as though something within him is going to explode. 

It takes a moment for him to regain the ability to speak. When the pain dies down enough, he says, “Very well. Back to the station house.”

George takes a breath, like he is going to say something, but remains silent. “Yes, sir,” he says eventually. William hears rather than sees him stand up, and follows suit. 

This also causes him pain, the dizziness overwhelming him so much that for a moment he thinks he will collapse again. But he fights the feeling off, shuts his eyes until the worst of it passes. 

George says nothing, which is very charitable of him. William silently follows him out of the building, concentrating very hard on remaining upright and alert. 

Outside, the sunlight is nearly unbearable. It makes his eyes burn and black spots appear in his vision. 

“Are you alright?” George asks. William is pretty sure he has already asked this question, though he must confess a different answer may be in order. 

“I’m…not sure,” is the response he decides to give, sinking down to sit on a curb when a particularly strong wave of dizziness threatens to make his legs fold beneath him. 

George immediately sits as well. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my head,” William explains, wishing for a way to communicate wordlessly. “I was hit rather hard.”

George nods thoughtfully. “Do you suppose you might have a concussion? I had one of those when I was a boy, my Aunt Primrose -”

“George,” William interrupts, pressing a hand to his forehead in a futile effort to lessen the ache. “Perhaps another time?”

“Right, of course, well, in any case, I should think a visit with Dr. Grace may be in order, if you don’t mind me saying, sir.”

That sounds perfectly agreeable. He gives his assent, and George stands, offering his hand. 

William takes it and allows himself to be pulled to his feet. Everything spins, and he clings slightly to George’s arm until the worst of it passes. 

George flags down a cab - on whose dime, William neither knows nor cares - and they climb into the back. 

The ride is terribly bumpy and nausea-inducing. William spends all of his time staring at the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees George staring resolutely at the passing scenery. 

The journey seems to last forever, but at long last they arrive in front of the city morgue. George gets out first, and hesitantly stands by the door, moving his hand forward and back like he is not quite sure what to do with it. 

“Give me your hand, George,” William instructs, both to solve this problem and because standing up to leave the cab has once again made his head spin. 

George does, and William finds himself in the bright sun again, dizzy and by now quite tired. He’ll be very glad indeed to receive Dr. Grace’s evaluation, and, with all luck, a remedy. 

“I’d best leave you here,” George remarks, on the threshold of the building. “I’m afraid we may have left Henry at the docks - I may have left him, I mean - and I think I perhaps ought to go and collect him. He’s probably still trying to track down that woman’s ghost.”

Henry! He cannot believe he’d forgotten that it had not been only him and George down by the docks. The problem is solved, thankfully, but he feels horribly guilty all the same for leaving one of his men behind. 

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” George says. “You don’t suppose Henry would prefer doing busy - I mean, very important paperwork - at the station to wandering about in the fresh air, do you?”

He has a point. The anxiety lessens slightly. The headache does not. 

William opens the door and turns to George before the constable can walk away. 

“Thank you.”

George looks at him for a second, then grins. “Why, you’re welcome, sir!” he replies, genuinely pleased.

“Now go fetch Henry, and perhaps the two of you can find something more interesting than paperwork to occupy yourselves with.”

George nods his assent, still smiling, and hurries off in the direction from which they’d come. 

William turns back towards the morgue and steps inside.

thanks for reading! may give this a part 2 if i'm feeling it ;) hope it was alright!

[fvck-the-patriarchy]

Murdoch Mysteries characters on Incorrect Quotes generator vol. 2

*The squad's reaction to being told they're the chosen one*

George: I will not let you down.

Murdoch: Sounds fun.

Henry: K.

Brax: No, I'm fucking not.

Watts: Do I have to be?

Julia: Please god, I am so tired.

-

Brax: When I first met you, I did not like you.

Watts: I'm aware of that.

Brax: But then you and I had some time together.

Watts: Uh-huh?

Brax: It did not get better.

-

Meyers: I can't imagine what Pendrick is planning. But I can tell you two things. We won't like it and it won't be legal.

-

Watts: Whoa, Henry, what’s up with that angry face?

Henry: George won’t stop talking about how “Ancient Egyptians were furries”.

George: But they were! Just looks at all their gods-

Henry: Oh my god, SHUT UP!

-

*the squad is at a dinner party but someone has been murdered*

Meyers: You’re acting pretty carefree for someone who’s life’s at stake. Who’s to say you aren’t the killer?

George: It’s a murder, not a tax audit. I’ll be fine.

Brax: What about Murdoch? Nobody ever suspects Murdoch!

Murdoch: Well what about Pendrick? He has a gun!

Pendrick: Meyers has a knife.

Meyers: Yeah, for fun, not for murder! *stabs Brax in the arm*

-

Watts: *texting* Hey can you pick me up I’m drunk.

Watts: Oh you don't have to anymore. I'm home now.

George: Yes, I'm aware of that after dropping you off at home.

-

Rupert, confused and exasperated: Henry, how do you plan on telling a bear to go vegan?

Henry: Politely.

-

Brax: *on the phone* Just snap his kneecaps and he’ll talk, I’m at a parent teacher conference.

Brax: Anyways, you said Bobby is enjoying finger painting! That's great.

-

Rupert: We’re going to a candy store?!

Effie: No! It’s nighttime, candy stores are closed.

Ruth: We’re gonna ROB a candy store?!?!

Effie, sighing: No-

-

Rupert: Lucinda's gonna kill me.

Henry: No, she'll probably make me do it.

[flame2ashes]

Murdoch Mysteries has always made “Could you imagine if [thing that gets invented in the future] existed?” jokes but this one takes the cake

[cressida-jayoungr]

Coeli's Picks: Brown, part 1

I may have to start doubling up on these so I don't run out of month! Once again, if more than one movie is pictured side by side, I'll list them left to right.

One Dress a Day Challenge

Anything Goes December

Game of Thrones / Sophie Turner as Sansa Stark

"I can't imagine that Sansa Stark's (first) wedding dress from Game of Thrones has been overlooked, but just in case:"

Natalie Dormer as Margaery Tyrell

Pretty Woman (1990) / Julia Roberts as Vivian Ward

Howard's End / Tracey Ullman as Aunt Juley

"Tracey Ullman as Aunt Juley in the Starz remake of Howard's End looks great in brown."

Chicago (2002) / Queen Latifah as Mama Morton

"Mama Morton (Queen Latifah)'s dress from the 'When You're Good to Mama' number in Chicago is sometimes described as gold, and certainly when strong light hits the beading it is, but it looks to me as if the base is brown. The headdress is definitely brown."

Murdoch Mysteries (s12 e6) / Arwen Humphreys as Margaret Brackenreid

"A very silly and fun non-continuity Halloween episode."

(s13 e1) Hélène Joy as Julia Ogden and Clare McConnell as Effie Newsome

(s8 e12) Kari Matchett as Miss Heloise

with

Babylon 5 (s2 e19, "Divided Loyalties") / Andrea Thompson as Talia Winters

"On Babylon 5, Talia Winters was most often seen in a mustard-and-black suit, but she had a few others including this interesting brown one. I loved the costuming on that show. I'd be throwing more of it at you, but my favorite outfits seldom have a single dominant color."

The Met Gala / Priyanka Chopra

"Sometimes high fashion meets costume, sweeps past it, and wraps all the way back around again. The Met Gala has a lot of that sort of thing."

[veryrealimagination]

“But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Day No: 1

Prompt: "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Fandom: Murdoch Mysteries

Medium: Fic

Trigger Warnings: None

SFW

George was whistling a merry tune as he and Henry walked down to the home of a prospective witness. Murdoch would be by just after they were finished, as Susannah was not happy with the matron and he had to stay for a little bit. At least until she fell asleep and he could leave the house.

The area was a bit run down, but that wasn’t too surprising. Henry kept glancing around at what appeared to be nothing. George didn’t see anything, and he believed that normal sounds were just putting him on edge. “I think you need someone in the house with you with Ruth gone,” he mentioned. At Henry’s shocked and terrified face, he reworded it. “While she’s away on her trip to visit that cousin she mentioned. You and Jordan not having anyone else around can’t be good for the two of you.”

That calmed him down a little bit. “It is a bit lonely not having her around, but the only one near by that I could imagine helping with Jordan would be Effie.”

Oh, his fiancee. “And by extension, I would be over as well.”

Henry shrugged his shoulders. “Well…”

Well, that was disappointing. “Henry, you wouldn’t want me around?” he tried joking.

“It’s not that, but Jordan doesn’t like many other men than myself right now. Ruthie’s cousins aren’t welcome. She barely tolerates her grandfather. Strangers that have been over to the house have had stuff thrown at them. At one point, she got a hold of a cricket ball and threw it at a man coming up to the house. Nailed him a little too close to the family jewels.”

George paled a little thinking about it. “My word, Henry, why is she attacking the men?”

“I don’t know…” He stopped, as they had arrived at the door of the small place of the prospective witness. The door was ajar, and that didn’t bode well for them.

George called out, pushing the door further, “Toronto Constabulary. Mister Verte, are you here?” The sunlight barely penetrated the apartment. The hairs on the back of their necks warned them of a person, but they weren’t sure on who it was. “Mister Verte, Toronto Constabulary. I’m here to ask questions about a potential crime you may have witnessed yesterday morning.”

Henry knew he had only referenced himself to allow the other man to sneak in. He took to the left, going after dark areas and a couple of the doors. George moved over to the bed. It had been made, but someone had disturbed the covers. He checked the floor and saw the prone figure of someone lying on the ground. Carefully, he stepped around.

Flipping them over, he quickly saw that the person had been lying in wait for someone to mess with them. A hand flew at his head and landed a punch laced with something heavy landed on his chin. He squawked in surprise and pain before another hit landed on the other side of his head. Shaking his head, and only getting pain instead of clearing, he threw out his own to try and shut down the culprit. Instead, his wrist was grabbed. Quickly twisting, he broke out of the hold and went for his baton.

Henry, thankfully, knocked into the figure with his own, hitting them in the shoulder to stop their last attack. He still got hit one more time, but it was a glancing blow to his chin. Still, he fell backwards and folded so his head wouldn’t slam against the floor like it had many times in his career. He gently let it bounce. At least, that’s how he put it.

Henry got the assaulter subdued and handcuffed. “Why gave you the idea that hitting a police officer was a good idea?” he asked. The man wasn’t talking. No surprise. George, after giving himself a few minutes of getting through the initial pains, sat himself up and closed his eyes at the new pains that were radiating through his skull. “George?”

“Not the first time I’ve been hit in the head, Henry,” he tried. Attempting to stand up, wobble, and fall back down on his ass broke the thin illusion of wellness.

The other man made sure their suspect wouldn’t get up and move before checking George over. The chin was already piping up a glorious shade of red. His head wasn’t bleeding, but the area was tender, as he poked and prodded to make sure there wasn’t any breaks. “All right, George, how many fingers am I holding up?” he asked, holding up two of his fingers.

“Henry, what?”

“It’s something I’ve seen Ruthie do. She learned it from the doctors when she worked at the hospital and helping out at the clinic,” he said, That surprisingly sounded smart, but George took hits to the head normally, He didn’t have that much to worry about. “Something about making sure head trauma victims aren’t seeing more than they should. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Deciding that fine, he would open his eyes and try the counting fingers. The room was a little wobbly, but he saw the fingers. Not as cleanly as he should. “Are you holding a finger behind your hand?” he demanded.

Henry checked himself. No, he had his pointer and middle finger up in a v shape. His other hand was by his leg. “No.”

Oh, that’s not good then. “Well, two and a half fingers can’t be right then.” He waved off his partner’s immediate concern. “Give me a few hours and my head will go right back on as the day I came out of the womb.”

That didn’t stop the worry he had. “George, maybe you should see a doctor.”

The slightly older man sighed, “Henry, give me a few hours in a dark and quiet place, and for the most part it fixes itself.”

“For the most part? Which means-”

“Trust me, Henry. After three hours, if it’s still the wrong number of fingers, I’ll go to Doctor Ogden’s clinic when they don’t have any women patients.” Between the two of them carefully moving, they frogmarched their new suspect down to the Station.