#the inspector would do numbers here i think

[ghostybaby000]

Never Yours | Part 4

Part 1

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: He had seen blood hundreds of times before, but never from you. He didn't know what to expect while listening to your cry's on the phone praying you wouldn't loose consciousness.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+, violent theme, weaponry use, blood, symptoms of panic.

Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla @cumsluut @sofiacoppolaslut

(Not fully edited, apologies for any inconsistencies! My internet is also down for now, so posts may not be consistent)

You adjust yourself to be seated more upright, again clearing your throat. Letting go of Simons hand for a moment you rub the tiredness from your eyes and take in several deep breaths. Replacing your hand and Simons in your lap, you begin.

‘I was trying to get things ready for dinner. Setting the table, cleaning the countertops, finishing the dishes. Someone knocked on the door so I set my dish down in the sink and made my way to the door to check the peephole. He was in uniform, some company uniform it…It looked so real.’ Your voices begins to fade out as the lump in your throat became harder to swallow. You shake your head to clear the thoughts, knowing that Simon would need to know the information at some point nonetheless. You take a long breath and squeeze his hand as you push on. 

‘I opened the door a crack and he said that he was a home inspector of some kind when I’d asked. I remember he was knowledgeable of the company and what it was about, not that I’m remembering much now. I told him…I tried to tell him that he could come back another time and that we were busy. That’s when I knew something was off.’ Another pause that allowed you to take in more air your lungs suddenly needed desperately, Simons eyes giving the strength to continue. 

‘He was so much taller, bigger than I was- I didn’t want to be alone with him, and my gut agreed. He insisted that he would check some part of the house as an annual inspection and he tried to open the door more…I-I pushed as hard as I could to shut it, and I almost had it. Everything moved so fast after that. I knew he wasn’t true to his title and that I was in danger, so I tried again to close the door with all my strength but It wasn’t enough…’ Simons hand drew you out of your mind as he thumbed over the top side of your hand. His jaw was set firm and his knee had entirely stopped bouncing. He nodded to you letting you know to continue although you knew that if you didn’t want to, he would never make you.

‘He had pushed hard to get inside against my efforts, so when he tried to do a much bigger push I let the weight of the door go and he came barreling inside. He didn’t fall but took a moment to turn and close the door, I heard him lock it. I tried to run as fast as I could, I just felt so panicked it’s like my legs were jelly. I made it to the stairs where I got up before him and to the bedroom, and I noticed he wasn’t running after me- like he knew I wouldn’t get away by running…’ Again the thoughts in your mind became a storm as you wiped a falling tear, trying to steady your breathing. Your voice went on slow, taking time to recall the events as best your mind would allow you to. 

‘I grabbed my phone off the bed and went into the bathroom as quietly as I could, I had your number dialed when he kicked in the door and grabbed me around my neck.’ Your hand reached up to touch the tender spot where bruises had formed. ‘He hit me across the face and I fell backwards, and then he hit me again when I made my way to the ground. From here it gets fuzzy, I know I passed out and I’m not sure for how long. All I knew is that when I woke up I heard him rummaging through the house, and then his steps. He bounded up the stairs again for the bathroom and he saw that I was conscious. His figure is blurry when I think of it, but he was tall and had dark hair.’ You were straining your mind to try and recall what the man had looked like, your head began to ache so instead you pressed on. 

‘The next thing I knew I…I saw him over me and felt a horrible burning followed by a wetness that wasn’t like water, it was warmer. He ran from the room and then the house, fleeing the scene. I couldn’t sit up and felt really dizzy, and then the pain set in. I’d never felt pain like that, so sudden and unending…. I saw my phone and made a reach for it but I just couldn’t get it in my hands. I could barely click call for your number…The next thing I know I’m here with you in the hospital.’ Simon was deep in his thoughts, a tear stain running down his left cheek. 

He takes a deep inhale that sounds stammered as you touch his arm and speak out to him. ‘I’m here, and safe now.’ Simons gaze doesn’t meet yours, his face only growing more stern- he was angry. You pull your hand from him to turn his face towards yours.

‘Simon. I’m here. I’m here looking at you and listening to you. You saved me, you are the reason I am alive.’ Your eyes darted between Simons as he looked into yours although they didn’t light up in the way they typically would if you had said something of a similar manner, his mind was elsewhere. He tugged a grin across his face and then his husky voice met your ears. 

‘I am the reason…’ His voice fell short in his throat before he could continue. He tore his eyes from yours to look at the floor and then back to you. He took a short breath and started again in a better tone, although you knew he wasn’t saying what he wanted. 

‘You need to rest my dove, it’s going to be the best thing for your recovery and that’s whats important.’ He stood just slightly to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. You knew that arguing his thoughts would be no use and decided he was right, within minutes you had fallen asleep.  

Once your eyes began to dart underneath your eyelids, he knew that you were in a deep enough sleep that you wouldn’t stir if he had left. Simon rose to his feet and made his way out of the room silently, closing the door behind him. He didn’t like leaving you at all, but his anger for the man that harmed you outweighed the need to stay. 

He rings Price as he gets to the parking garage where he moved the car after the doctors had taken you. The ring goes on for a moment, before he hears him on the other end.

‘What have you got for me?’ Simons voice is lower, a scary calm that would send chills down anyone’s spine. Price took a long breath on the other side before responding to Simon, he could hear him leave a group of other people for privacy. 

‘I’ve managed to find who we think it is, and we might have a location I told you I would call when I found him.’ Prices voice rings with leadership and power, he wants to keep Simon from loosing his head all the while bringing justice to you who was harmed. 

‘Where is he?’ Simon starts the car and begins to make his way out of the lot. Price sighs, a mutual agreement that Simon would be relentless in getting to the man no matter the odds. 

‘I’ve already got men headed to the location Simon, and I’ll tell you when we’ve got him’ 

‘I want him myself.’ Simons voice is stern, and Price understands his determination more than he lets on. The team he’s sent should already be there by now, so there was no harm in allowing Simon to go, there would be others there to step in if things got out of control.

*ding* Simon takes a moment to pull the phone from his ear and see the text from Price, the location. 

‘Thank you.’ Simon hangs up the phone before Price can respond, the sound of the car filling his ears as he made his way around a turn headed the right direction. 

When he pulled into the abandoned apartment duplex, he found 2 more vehicles parked outside and recognized them as part of his own team. He saw their flashlights in the windows as they were searching the first story of the building, they hadn’t found him yet. 

Simon parked a good distance away and walked around towards the backside of the building and rounded a corner, coming face to face with the back side of a truck. The same truck the cameras showed from the neighbor’s home, he was definitely here. He made his way further behind the building, the only thing outside being dumpsters and broken glass scattered around it. He paused upon hearing a screeching door somewhere on the other side of the building behind him. 

*BANG*  

*BANG*

Shots rang out from behind Simon as he spun around he saw a man lying face down to the ground groaning. He ran to the man who had been shot and heard his comrades radio that they had gotten him, and didn’t go any closer seeing Simon approach the man. Simon watched as blood slowly leaked from the man’s lower half thanks to the bullet hole through his lower abdomen. A glare caught his eye as he looked over the man, a jagged knife had fallen from his hands and was now out of reach. Simon was over the man now staring at him, he couldn’t hear his thoughts or the mans protests through the anger as he rolled him over to face him.

 He held the man into a sitting position with one fist bunched around his clothing as he began to ruthlessly beat him with his other free hand. He thought to your face and swollen neck, the IV drips coming from your body, he saw the mans face was contorted and his nose began to bleed aggressively. He thought to the bandages and wounds that should have never touched your body, as he heard a crack somewhere in his hand. The man took a hold of Simons arm that was holding him up, trying to wrench himself free. He thought to your voice calling out for him over the phone as you groaned out in pain, and the fear that followed your voice and landed a punch square to the mans face. His hands that had been trying to rip him from Simon now fell limply to his side, he was unconscious.

Simon dropped him from where he was just as others had reached him to stop him from doing any more damage. He said nothing to the others as he walked back to his car, leaving the mangled man on the ground, and made his way back to you. 

He pulled into the lot, adrenaline still pulsing though him as he parked the car and made his way up to your room. He took no spare time in getting back to your side, pushing open the room door to see you were still asleep. He settled into his chair as he reached out again for your hand. He felt his own hand twinge in pain as he looked down to see one of his fingers was heavily inflamed and slightly twisted, another inflamed but still straight. He huffed to himself taking a breath as he settled into the chair, he would worry of his own injuries once you were awake. 

A few hours went on as nurses came and went, one staying to take vitals and waking you in the process. You sat up to see Simon in the chair next to you, this time asleep. He always looked so calm like this, something that made you feel all the more safe when with him. It was dark in the room and the nurse quickly made her way out as you laid back down and allowed yourself to rest as well. 

Morning came as the doctor strode in, Simon already awake and watching a silent show on the TV. His chair was facing the same direction, his hands interwound in his lap. 

‘Good morning everyone, I see you stayed the night Simon.’ Simon looked to him and gave a nod as he turned his chair to face you and what the doctor would say next. 

The doctor went over test results and assured that you were recovering well, despite it taking longer than you had hoped. He left you with a prescription for medication and let you know it would be another day of tests before you could leave. Simon looked to you and smiled, a true smile now knowing that you were making progress towards being better. He let his hand come up to meet yours as the doctor began to leave the room. 

‘You’re in an awfully bright mood this morning.’ You smile to Simon as you place your hand over his you feel him tense. He looks to you and blinks slowly, as he talks to you with the morning gruff in his voice you never wanted to lose. 

‘Only when I get to see you.’ Your smile begins to fall as you look down towards Simons hand and find the knuckles to be bruised, one of them split. You gasp as you retract your hand from his and look to his face, which had become more serious now. 

‘Simon…What did you do to yourself? It look so inflamed…’ Your voice trailed as you gently grabbed his hand and held it in clear view, he had definitely broken at least two fingers. His head fell as he stared at the blankets, and it all clicked. He went after the man, that horrible monster. You thought to yourself that it wasn’t at all necessary for him to go after him himself but understood that he felt far to much unnecessary guilt and that was how he knew to fix it. 

Not that you would ever approve of Simon being irrationally violent, you felt a weight you didn’t know you had become lifted off your shoulders knowing he had been delt with. He wasn’t proud of how he handled the situation, his head lowered in obviousness, but you knew that he needed to avenge your pains and that it could have been far worse.

‘Thank you, Simon.’ He looked up to you quickly, expecting a lecture of some kind on being unreasonable or not letting someone else handle it. He didn’t respond but instead took his good hand and interlocked it with yours and slowly closed his eyes, rubbing over your small hand taking a deep breath. He let out his breath as he smiled to you half opening his eyes. You then called for the nurse although Simon initially protested, one look from you and he had been silenced. The nurse came in to see his hand and let the doctor know to make his way in to decide what to do next.  

The doctor came into the room and assessed him hand carefully. To your surprise he didn’t ask Simon any questions but instead simply took him to get an X-Ray. About an hour later with a wrap around his hand, Simon made his way back into the room, plopping into his chair beside you. 

The rest of the day you both sat quietly, resting as the daylight streamed in through the windows and enjoyed a show together. You watched him as you looked from the TV, he was relaxed. Sitting in the chair with his feet on the other chair across from him, he was holding your hand from the side, his eyes watching the screen.

You knew that he would do just about anything and everything for you, and for that reason alone you knew to call him.

[crowleysgirl56]

Wildest dreams wishes for Good Omens Season 3 which will probably not come true but I can still hope hey!

Number 35.

This wildest dream fanfic drabble is dedicated to @fellshish and @phoen1xr0se for a conversation I saw you have a little while ago. You posed the question what if Crowley taught Muriel to hug because he needed a hug, and what if Muriel pretended they didn’t know how to hug because they knew Crowley needed one? Enjoy!

For years now, every time Crowley had crossed the threshold of the bookshop, there were certain things he’d come to expect. Finding a certain angel perched at his desk busying himself with papers, or lost in thought amongst his many bookshelves. Or even simply sat on the couch enjoying a book, glass of wine in hand, and listening to a song not popular for decades play on the gramophone. The last 6 months however, had been different. His The angel was gone and another stood in his place, messing up the papers, incorrectly re-shelving the books, and worst of all attempting to play anything released later than the 1940’s on said gramophone. Of course Crowley, chief mischief maker and numero-uno in annoyance, had attempted all of this for decades. But when he did it, it was endearing! This angel didn’t even have the sense to drink wine. The audacity!

…and yet, the little absolutely-100%-definitely-not-an-angel Inspector Constable had become somewhat of a comfort in these lonely difficult times. And Crowley found them to be far less irritating than what he had previously assumed. He was loath to admit it, and he would certainly give anyone a good kick if they dared to say it out loud, but he was glad of the company.

There were many things Crowley now came to expect upon entering the bookshop. The sight of Muriel facing away from him, arms wrapped around their own body in some weird self embrace, was not one of them.

Crowley paused nonchalantly behind them. “Should I come back and give you some privacy?”

Muriel spun around in surprise. “Oh, Mr Crowley! I didn’t hear you come in!”

He began to wander over to his usual chair, stared at it for a moment then, hands shoved in pockets, changed his mind and sauntered back over in front of Muriel. “Interrupting something, was I?”

“No! I mean, yes! I mean, I’ve been trying to figure something out.”

Intrigued, Crowley raised an eyebrow. “About what exactly?”

“It’s this thing humans do. It’s really quite strange.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. “That’s humans for you. Pretty strange if you ask me.”

“Oh can I?! Ask you that is. Cause I was really hoping you could help me!” Muriel started to flap their hands around excitedly.

Crowley narrowed his eyes at their sudden exuberance. “Er…with what exactly?”

Taking a hesitant step forward, Muriel clearly showed they were unsure how to begin. “We-ell, it’s about how humans are constantly-” and here they conspiratorially lowered their voice as they leaned in closer to Crowley. “…Touching.”

Crowley froze. He stared at Muriel’s wide and earnest expression. Surely they’re not talking about what I think they’re talking about? he thought to himself.

“…touching?”

“Yes! And how happy it seems to make them!”

Crowley swallowed hard, his mind whirring. Stay perfectly still and maybe they’ll forget you’re here.

Muriel continued, “Why do you think that is?”

Crowley’s face began to pale as he huffed out a dry laugh. “I really couldn’t say.”

“Oh nonsense! We both know you’re the expert about these sorts of things.”

What little blood was left in Crowley’s face drained away entirely. “Sorry?!” His voice raised about two octaves.

“Well you’ve been on Earth for so long, I assumed you’ve done it loads of times!”

Crowley’s mouth worked overdrive, spluttering, “Huh! Well sure- I, guess…loads.. but not like- I, I mean hgnr -I wouldn’t say…I wouldn’t say expert!”

Muriel continued as they crossed over to the study desk. “I’ve done a tonne of research! Watched heaps of TV and films. And read loads about it too!” They had been shuffling around the table as they spoke, then triumphantly held up a copy of Lady Chatterly’s Lover. At this point, although Crowley’s heart was purely decorative, he was pretty sure it had stopped beating.

“NGK!” He wanted to back away but found the function of his legs had also long ago left him.

“But like, there’s only so much that you can watch and read. So I was kind of hoping you could maybe…teach me?”

“Teach you?!” His brain had definitely left the building. Scales began to break out on the back of his neck.

“I mean I can’t very well do it on my own now can I?”

If Crowley didn’t already know what it felt like, he’d be sure he was having an out of body experience. He tried to protest, No no no no no no no! his mind begged. The signals failed to reach his mouth.

Muriel perched on the edge of the desk, clutching the book to their chest, their eyes dewy and wistful, “And some days when I’m here all along-”

Stop engaging. Stop engaging! Must find the exit! Crowley was grateful for his sunglasses, at least Muriel wouldn’t see his wild eyes looking for the nearest egress.

“-and I’m just staring out the window into the street-”

Window! Good plan. Jump out the window! Come on legs, move!

“-and just watching the humans do it right there in front of me-”

I’ll just start my life over again, in France maybe, I hear it’s quite nice there this time of yea- Crowley’s mind came to a screeching halt. Wait, WHAT?! “Wait. What?” He repeated out loud.

“When they hug. They always look so happy. Why do you think that is?”

Crowley stared at Muriel while his brain clicked back into place. The scales on his neck receded. He let the silence stretch out as he searched for human words again. “…hugging?”

Muriel looked so placid, smiling and innocent, “Well yes. What did you think we were talking about?”

Crowley finally found the power to control his legs again and began pacing back and forth, gesturing wildly and rushed out, “Yeah, no, of course, hugging! Right…right! Obviously! Yep, big expert me, know all about it! The….hugging” He paused and gave an over exaggerated grin. Just a simple demon trying to keep cool and casual. He looked expectantly at Muriel, “So what did you want to know?”

“I suppose, how to do it really.”

Crowley used every bit of willpower to resume the nonchalant attitude he had had when he first entered the bookshop, “Well! So! I mean…like you said, you’ve seen them. Seen it happen that is. You just kind of-” He began making awkward gestures with his arms and body, “…press your bodies together and then…put your arms around each other. Not much to it really.”

“But why does that work?” Muriel’s face always so exuberant, crumpled in confused thought. For the first time in their brief acquaintance Crowley realised Muriel looked troubled.

“How does what work?” His tone softened as he joined Muriel at the table and, arms crossed, leaned against it.

Muriel looked down, deep in thought, and hugged the book closer to their chest, “How does hugging someone…stop them from being sad?”

For the second time that morning Crowley was grateful for his glasses and pushed them harder against his face, and cleared his throat, “Well…I suppose it depends on what was making them sad in the first place.”

Muriel seemed to consider this, then appeared to brace for what they were about to say next. “Like maybe…missing something that was gone?” They peaked a side eye over at Crowley.

Crowley suddenly feeling very exposed and agitated pushed off from the desk and paced the floor, raking a hand through his hair, “Yeah look maybe I’m not the best person to be talking to you about this kind of stuff after all!”

Apologetically Muriel leaped to their feet, “Of course! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. I should probably go talk to Nina and Maggie!”

As Muriel made to leave, the book still clutched in their arms caught Crowley’s attention. He grabbed their wrist, imploring them to stay, “No no no no no! No. Look, probably not the greatest of ideas, worrying them with…ethereal consternation.” Crowley led Muriel over to the couch. They both sat down gingerly, a small distance between them. Muriel placed the book on the cushion next to them. Crowley meanwhile looked like a dad attempting to psyche himself up to have an awkward and out of depth conversation with their teenager. He plunged ahead anyway. “What’s really bothering you about this kiddo?”

Muriel gave a small smile at Crowley’s term of endearment. They had only been acquainted a short time, but Muriel felt glad that they had been able to gain Crowley’s trust in such a familiar way. He wasn’t like other demons. They knew there was nothing to fear by opening up to him. After all if Aziraphale the Supreme Archangel could do it, so could they!

They took a deep breath then very deliberately looking away from Crowley began in a small voice, “All my existence I thought only Heaven and its Light could bring joy and happiness. I’ve felt that ever since I first came into being. Love and light. I mean that’s what Heaven is there for, right? How else would one reach such divine happiness if not for Heaven?…Then when I came to Earth I found there was so much joy here too. Everywhere! And I thought maybe Heaven was giving that to them. To the humans. But it wasn’t Heaven giving them anything at all. Heaven had nothing to do with it! Ask anyone what they think of Heaven and most wouldn’t be able to give you an answer. Heaven has nothing to do with their happiness. Which means, it’s the humans giving it to each other. And if they can obtain happiness just from each other, without Heaven, without its Light, then what is the point of Heaven?!” Breathing hard, Muriel clamped their hands over their month and squeezed their eyes shut tight.

Crowley had remained quiet and still throughout their passionate outburst. Something of a shadow passed over his face and he had the strong sense of déjà vu. Another angel long ago looking forlorn and confused, lamenting their displeasure with Heaven. He remembered comforting that angel. Demons really shouldn’t be in the business of comforting angels. But Crowley wasn’t like other demons.

“Sounds to me like you’re feeling a little envious.”

Muriel’s eyes shot open again. “But that’s a sin!” they exclaimed.

Crowley gave a wry smile, “Actually it’s just an emotion.”

“But it’s a bad emotion!” Muriel’s eyes began to mist over.

Perturbed, Crowley leaped from the couch, and once again paced back and forth waving his arms for emphasis, “What is it with you lot, always wanting to put emotions into little black and white boxes. Always making each other feel bad for daring to feel something, anything, that just so happens to fall into anything other than the “good” category! They’re just emotions! They’re not “good” or “bad”. They just are. Yeah sure, sometimes they make you feel pretty terrible, but that’s the point isn’t it! The point is to feel. It lets you know that you’re alive. Because if you can feel this bad and you’re still alive, then you know you can keep going. Keep fighting. Fighting for what actually makes you-” He stopped for a moment staring at Muriel, their eyes round and full and transfixed on him. He drew a deep breath, “-happy.” he concluded.

They stayed in the silence for a few moments, not quite looking at one another. Muriel finally spoke first, “You look sad Mr Crowley.”

He turned away and answered gruffly, “Yeah, well, I’m a demon…We’re supposed to look sad”.

Muriel left the couch and, like approaching a skittish bird, tentatively reached towards Crowley. “I think I know of something that could make you happy.”

“Muriel no. Absolutely not!” Crowley held up his hands and backed away slightly.

Muriel clasped thier hands together imploringly, “Please! You did say you’d help teach me.”

“Technically I said no such thing…but-” Crowley sighed audibly, “Fine!” He shuffled towards Muriel, then suddenly held a hand in front of their face, “BUT! If you tell anyone, and I mean anyone, I swear I will throw you into a lake of sulphur”.

“I promise not to tell anyone.”

“Mmm good then.”

Slowly and awkwardly, Muriel and Crowley approached each other. Even more awkwardly they reached out and wrapped their arms around each other. They didn’t quite press their bodies together. Mostly just the top half lightly held against the other whilst the bottom half maintained a modest distance, the type you could drive a freight train through. The perfect platonic hug. They maintained the hug for a good few long moments, then eventually broke apart as Crowley genially patted Muriel on the back a few times.

“So. Mission accomplished?” Muriel looked slightly shocked at Crowley’s question for a moment, then seemed to come back to themself.

“As long you’re happy.” They smiled as radiantly as angel of Heaven would.

“Nhg, not really about me kiddo. As long as you don’t go around hugging yourself in public I think you got the hang of it.” Crowley crossed back over to the couch and grabbed Lady Chatterly’s Lover. “How much of this have you actually read?”

“Oh not that much. Just the first couple chapters. Actually I did have some questions-”

“Absolutely not. And I’m taking this!” Crowley put the book in his inside jacket pocket then made to leave. “Anyway, I’m very busy and important you know. Places to be, people to temp, discontent to sow.”

Muriel waved to Crowley as they walked by them. “Of course! Thank you again for helping me today Mr Crowley!”

Crowley headed for the door as he called over his shoulder, “Don’t mention it. Literally. I mean it. Don’t mention it!” And with that, he exited out into the busy footpath of Whickber Street.

Muriel smiled to themself as they watched the demon pass by the window. It didn’t go past their notice during the embrace how Crowley had subtly softened into the hug, his fingers tightening slightly at Muriel’s back, and head resting just for a moment on their shoulder. They were sure that Crowley needed that hug just as much as they did.

“Mission accomplished indeed” they murmured.

[morsesnotes]

I'm still not over this interview and these interactions specifically. They're so dorky in a very endearing way:

Shaun Evans: I think [Donna Tartt] herself is kind of extraordinary. Have you read “The Goldfinch”?

1883Mag: Yes! Weirdly enough, I started with “The Goldfinch” and loved it, thought it was incredible, and then wanted to go back and read her other work. She has another book, “The Little Friend”, I don’t know if you’ve read that?

Shaun: I’ve not read it yet!

1883Mag: It’s probably not as good as the other two.

Shaun: That’s good to know actually. She’s such an extraordinary writer. I feel like…and this is so rare but so amazing when you do get it, but when you read something and you’ve felt everything there with those people. I was totally there, I was totally present. That is an extraordinary thing when you think about it, right? Someone has sat at their kitchen table or wherever they’re sitting…at their desk…and they’re just putting words on paper but it’s translated and makes you feel something and you go on an experience. And I feel like that with Donna Tartt. Her work is…I started to watch videos of her on YouTube…weird [laughs] but she takes years to write her books, doesn’t she?

----

1883Mag: It’s nice that they facilitated an environment where you could feel comfortable asking questions and why they made the artistic choices they made. It must be such an interesting filming experience because…it feels cramped, when you’re watching it. It feels claustrophobic on the ship.

Shaun: The set was like that! It was like that. It was vast in a way that was incredibly detailed and enabled you to shoot in a very narrow and condensed, claustrophobic way, so it was an extraordinary set, so I have to pay tribute to those guys. But, to go back to the director thing. I would never ask them, Why did you do this? Tell me about it. Because, as a director, you don’t want to feel like people are breathing down your neck. So I would simply observe them.

1883Mag: You’re not like, What’s going on here? [Laughs]

Shaun: [Laughs] Excuse me, before we go on, why are you doing that? Is that a wise choice?

1883Mag: They’re sweating, like Uhhhh…

Shaun: And it’ll be my last job as an actor as well!

1883Mag: You’re getting fired from everything. Now you have to do photography full time because they’re like, This guy is overly excited…[Laughs].

Shaun: [Laughs]. That’s me, jack of all trades, master of none!

----

1883Mag: It’s nice that you were able to start it off by directing, and that you didn’t do anything so crazy that they just took the camera away from you. [Laughs].

Shaun: [Laughs]. Quite the attempt! I chained myself behind the camera, so.

1883Mag: You’re like, I’m fine, I’m fine, I just needed to get it out of my system! [Laughs].

Shaun: [Laughs]. All right guys, come on, please?!

1883Mag: [Laughs]. Totally throw your entire reputation away. They’re gonna be like, So, he’s gonna be recast for season 9…

Shaun: [Laughs]. And could you lose our phone number, please? Trying to call them like, Hey, I’m Endeavour! And they’re like, Not anymore!

1883Mag: [Laughs]. Everyone can be replaced! You’re just muttering in your dark room like, I used to be an inspector once.

Shaun: [Laughs]. Like, I much preferred photography anyway. As I just do some interesting self-portraits.

1883Mag: As long as you don’t cut your ear off, you’ll be totally fine! [Laughs].

Shaun: Can you imagine?

1883Mag: Terrible, but hilarious.

Shaun: [Laughs]. Terrible but hilarious, yeah!

[ceilingfan5]

"Yeah I’m fully understanding the murder part, just not why you’re the one who needs to solve it??"

“So you’re not like, a cop? You gotta tell me, you know, legally you gotta tell me, if you’re a fuckin’ cop, my man.” Taako folds his arms, his shirt with the piñata fringe making this look a lot less serious than he intended. 

“I swear to you, I am not a cop,” Detective Kravitz says. “See, it says so, on my business card.” He hands Taako a business card with shiny red lettering on matte black, KRAVITZ. Private Detective for Hire. Not a cop. 

Taako flips it over. On the back is a glossy magnifying glass, highlighting his phone number. Taako snickers and pockets it. He tugs his holographic cargo skirt back up and squints at Kravitz. Kravitz poses awkwardly, trying to look serious, but not too serious, but not too unprofessional. Dork. Taako wants to eat him.

“Yeah, okay. You’re too stylish to be a cop.”

Kravitz beams, which makes Taako feel really warm suddenly. He shouldn’t be blushing. He kind of forgot he still could. 

“Anyway, I was wondering if you had any-”

“Hot clues, Scooby-doo?” Taako teases. He hops up to sit on the counter and surveys his thrift store kingdom. He crosses his legs, and watches Kravitz catch an enticing flash as he kicks his legs up. That’s right, dork, look. Look allll you want. 

“Ah, I was going to say insight, any insight into the murders committed outside your loading dock last night?”

“Aw shit, there were murders? I’m gonna barf.” Taako tries really hard to look distressed. This is sort of difficult, because he was the one who sort of exsanguinated those assholes. And they didn’t even taste that good. 

“I,” Kravitz blinks, taking out a notebook, and pulling a sleek black pen from behind his ear. God, this idiot is cute. It isn’t fair. “I was under the impression you were the one who called it in?”

“Um, nah,” Was he? Fuck. No, no, uh, he made someone else do it. Who was working this morning. “I think Magnus found ‘em, he was pretty shocked.” 

“Oh, sorry, I thought-” Kravitz scrawls something on his dumb little notebook. “Remind me your name, then, if you don’t mind?”

“Taako,” Taako says, instantly regretting not choosing an alias. He is sort of wearing a nametag, though. Not that he has to cooperate with this investigation. “Do we really have to talk about this? I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Taako, but I’m trying to solve this murder.” 

"Yeah I’m fully understanding the murder part, just not why you’re the one who needs to solve it?" 

“Well,” Kravitz puts down his notebook, pausing. He chews something over in his head. “I don’t want to say anything untoward about the police, but,” and then he looks at Taako pointedly, and Taako snorts. 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re right, but weren’t they like. Trying to break into the place? They-” Whoops, don’t incriminate your own dumb vampire ass! “Magnus said they had guns?” 

“Good to know,” Kravitz says, pointedly writing something else down. Taako sweats. He smells really good. Like, really good. Why the fuck does he have to be playing Inspector Gadget? Can’t he come keep Taako warm at night instead? 

“Anyway, I gotta put out some more inventory. Treasure Adventure isn’t gonna thrift itself.” And he hops off the counter. Kravitz looks at him, mouth a funny line. 

“Taako, are board games with missing pieces and bead purses from 2005 more important than lives, snuffed out, by some kind of murderer?” 

“Lot of other kinds of people snuffing out lives these days?” Taako snaps. “You wanna say monsters or dickheads next?” 

“Taako, is there anything you want to elaborate on?”

“No, I don’t think there is,” Taako says firmly. “Maybe I’m just feeling unsafe in my workplace, asshole, you ever think of that? It’s terrifying to- be- here! I gotta keep selling garbage? For minimum wage? Where something like that happened! What if those guys were coming to stick the place up and I was the one that got murdered, would you be as persistent about that case, Columbo?” 

“Yes,” Kravitz says, eyes wide. His heart is pounding more about the awkward situation than it was about the dead bodies. He has a little arrhythmia. It’s kind of cute. “Of course I would.”

Taako throws his hands in the air and exclaims wordlessly, and marches off, which is the only way he saw out of the conversation. Kravitz, to his credit, stands there looking sweaty, and then goes to bother another employee instead. 

Taako hides in the breakroom and pretends he doesn’t feel weird about it. He pretends he doesn’t care about it at all. 

Funny, how things might have been different if someone had cared to look into what happened when he died. 

But he doesn’t want to think about that. He wants to think about seducing that trenchcoat-wearing loser away from the lawful side. Yeah, that’s it. For sure.

[twistedtummies2]

Top 10 Portrayals of Inspector Lestrade

Having just finished my list of my favorite fictional detectives, I felt it was time to return to my absolute favorite of the bunch: Sherlock Holmes. In the past, I have done lists related to Holmes himself, as well as his friend and colleague, Dr. Watson, and his arch-nemesis, Professor Moriarty. I recently revisited those three countdowns to see if I would change anything, and…at the moment, no, I think they’re still pretty solidly set. HOWEVER, I’ve never gone over any of the other major characters in the Sherlock Holmes universe since those three. I haven’t covered his other allies, or any other noteworthy antagonists he faced. So, I decided it was time to fix that problem. These lists WILL have descriptions, but they’ll be very brief, partially just because I don’t have a TON to say about most of the characters/portrayals involved. We’ll start off with a Top 10 devoted to Scotland Yard’s most competent detective, Inspector Lestrade.

In the books, Lestrade is one of Holmes’ closest compatriots. While the super sleuth frequently interacts with various Scotland Yard officers, Lestrade is the most recurring, and has the most rapport with Sherlock. Their relationship is an…interesting one, to say the least. On the one hand, the two do care about each other, and there is some level of mutual respect under their respective, prickly surfaces. However, the pair bicker constantly, and always seem to be trying to one-up each other. Holmes concedes that Lestrade is probably the best detective at the Yard, but with the caveat that he is “the best of a bad bunch.” Lestrade, meanwhile, often tries to downplay Holmes’ unique skills in favor of boosting his own ego, and is forever frustrated by Sherlock’s antics. At the same time, he recognizes Holmes is very helpful to himself and the force, and for all his faults, he always manages to help the Inspector catch the crooks in the end. Indeed, the main reason Lestrade usually fails is because he ironically tends to jump the gun: he’s someone who fails to look at the big picture, or else notice the smaller details, which is what Holmes is very good at. If he just took his time more, he could probably get to the bottom of things more quickly…but Holmes can do all that in an instant, so it’s a good thing he’s hanging around. Different interpretations throughout adaptations and reimaginings of the Holmes universe have reinterpreted Lestrade in a number of ways (and with no less than two different pronunciations of his name; “Leh-strawed” seems to be the most common, but a couple choose to say “Less-trade”). Some versions of him are more comical and bungling, while some are more serious but still not quite as brilliant as Holmes. Some make the character more bullheaded and easily angered, while others make him more supportive and friendly. Many of the best find some sort of balance between these disparate elements; while he may not get the kudos that Holmes and Watson get, Lestrade is an interesting character in his own right, with a lot of layers writers, actors, and directors can play with. Having said that, here are some I particularly enjoy. So STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW! Here are My Top 10 Favorite Portrayals of Inspector Lestrade.

10. Frank Finlay, from A Study in Terror & Murder By Decree.

Finlay played Lestrade, by sheer coincidence, in two completely different films that have the same premise: Sherlock Holmes vs. Jack the Ripper. He looks, sounds, and generally behaves exactly the same in both movies, too. It’s rather uncanny, really.

9. Eddie Marsan, from the Guy Ritchie Films.

In the first film, Lestrade is a major character, and the way they play with his relationship with Sherlock is surprising; it’s just a shame he’s little more than a cameo in the second film.

8. Jeffrey Jones, from Without a Clue.

Arguably the most bumbling version of the character on this list. However, since this movie is an outright comedy, I don’t mind this. Plus, Jeffrey Jones is just a lot of fun as an actor, in general.

7. Peter Madden, from the 60s BBC Series.

In some ways, I think this might be the most book-accurate take on Lestrade, especially in terms of physical appearance. Madden only played the character in the first season of the series; in the second season, actor William Lucas took over. Weirdly enough, Madden did appear in the second season playing a completely different character in one episode. Not really sure why he was recast.

6. Dennis Hoey, from the Universal Films.

Alongside Jones, the most bungling version of Lestrade, frequently used as comic relief. In most of the films - not all, but most - he makes Nigel Bruce’s infamously doofy Watson look like a genius in comparison. He’s a lot of fun, though, and the chemistry between the three performers is great every time.

5. Rupert Graves, from Sherlock.

Arguably the most serious version of Lestrade on the list. I love the sort of normalcy he brings to the crazy world of Holmes and Watson, and the way he’s able to just put up with all the nonsense Sherlock shoves onto him, as well as find ways to rein Holmes in.

4. Archie Duncan, from the 50s TV Series.

This Lestrade is able to be extremely funny without actually being a moron; while he always needs Holmes to help him out, it’s mostly just because he’s impulsive and hotheaded, and therefore doesn’t always think things through or notice the details Sherlock notices. (Just like in the books.) Duncan, like Peter Madden, would weirdly play other characters in the show BESIDES Lestrade, including a villain in one story. Very talented performer who was always good to see in action!

3. The Version from Moriarty the Patriot.

This is probably the most friendly and encouraging version of Lestrade on the list, though he still gets righteously annoyed with both Holmes AND Moriarty in the series. I love his energy and the integrity the character has in the show; like Holmes, he’s willing to bend the rules to see justice done, and will never give up no matter what, which explains why they like each other above all else.

2. Akiko Morison, from Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century.

This version is a female descendant of the original inspector, named Beth Lestrade. She actually was more of a standout to me in this show than Watson was! Once again, this version isn’t depicted is an idiot - she’s fiery, strong, and very good at her job, with great instincts. Her problem is that, once again, she doesn’t always pick up on the details or fully understand the situation, which leads to conflict and her need to have Holmes around.

1. Colin Jeavons, from the Granada Series.

The definitive take on Lestrade, just as Jeremy Brett was the definitive take on Holmes, in my opinion. Jeavons plays Lestrade as a slightly pompous and rather sarcastic police officer, but he also seems to be one of the versions of the character who has the best sort of relationship with Sherlock. I love the chemistry between the pair, and how they each seem to sort of admire each other, though neither will ever admit it. At the same time, that competitive rivalry between the two has rarely been showcased better. Altogether marvelous.

[ladykailitha]

Fair warning this isn't my usual sandbox (giggles at the pun, sorry), but I feel the need to address something that has been getting on my nerves about the new series on Netflix Dead Boy Detectives.

That everyone is comparing it to Lockwood & Co.

Similar gets tossed around. A LOT.

And I think that comes from the fact that people are only familiar with one or the other and not both.

They see ghosts in England with trio of young teenagers, two boys and a girl and think "they're the same!"

Only that's where similarities end.

Lockwood & Co. is about a trio of ghost hunters operating illegally because they don't have an adult supervisor. They are all mediums of a sort (from what I gathered watching the show) and they can all see ghosts. Only the girl, Lucy can hear ghosts. Anthony and Georgie have only had the agency for about a year and are struggling.

Dead Boy Detectives is about two ghosts Edwin and Charles and their psychic friend, Crystal. The two boys have been together since Charles died in 1989 and are currently avoiding Death, Dream's (The Sandman) sister. Their goal is help ghosts move on, to solve their deaths so that they can be at peace.

Like Lockwood & Co. would hunt the Dead Boy Detectives, because that's what they do. Edwin and Charles would find them barbaric.

The Dead Boy Detectives actually like each other. Granted they have been together far longer then Lockwood & Co, thirty years to Anthony and Georgie's single year. Lockwood & Co. spend the entire first season (which adapted two books) lying to each other, talking bad about each other behind their backs and to their faces, and wouldn't trust the others as far as they can throw them.

But we keep being told in the series that they are the best agency because of the power of friendship. You're also basically shown any adult who tries to befriend any of them is the bad guy. And yes, I'm including Inspector Barnes in that.

While there are a couple of adults in DBD who aren't as they seem, but they do have two adults they can rely on on, Tragic Mick and Jenny the butcher.

Lockwood & Co. was canceled on Jan. 27th 2023 and Netflix picked up The Dead Boy Detectives (which was picked up originally by Max in April 2020 but they ultimately passed on it) on Feb. 24th 2023. Almost a whole month after the previous series was cancelled.

Plus anyone saying Netflix cancelled something because it was like something else, has never watched Netflix.

Their favorite thing to do is "Oh this popular? Here's twenty copies of that thing!"

I don't know what kind of numbers Lockwood & Co. got but in my opinion, the show wasn't that great. Plus as someone with photosensitive epilepsy let me tell you the bad lighting plus the ultra bright ghosts caused more than one headache.

They didn't set up the characters well, we got told more than we were shown, and there didn't seem to be any chemistry between the leads.

One thing in particular I wasn't a fan of was having the series backstory play out in the opening credits and if you blinked or looked away or even skipped them the plot doesn't make any sense.

But with DBD you have characters talking out their problems. You have their backstories told through clever flashbacks and even some spectacular animation. You have a moment between the two boys (which I won't spoil) that not only cements how much they care about each other. That despite everything they've been through, the jealousy of the other's interactions with the new people they meet, the fights, the terrifying cases they take, the people out to separate them, they are 100% it for each other (at the moment platonically though that could change).

This show has heart and charm and properly well-thought out villains and villainous characters.

They aren't the same and they really shouldn't be compared. Also... go watch Dead Boy Detectives. I really REALLY want to see Desire make an appearance!

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Shooting for the Michelin stars comes with a price

I keep thinking about the debt.

Walk with me here: In writing when you give your heroes what they want, you make them pay a price, it's not just a plot twist it's a literal "rain on your parade" moment that comes after the honeymoon period, which is usually fairly short in dramedies and it's a full-on breaking point. Meaning: Status quo does not stand a chance. Something's gotta give and usually that happens in the form of a crisis. The usual suspects include (but are not limited to) death, a fire, a trial, and a departure of some sort that doesn't include death but represents the end of an era anyway.

So, outta those possibilities, which are the most common and the ones I think will be brainstormed in The Bear's writers' room, I wish they went for the first one → death.

And here's where I get cutthroat, sorry, some characters make more sense dead. Their deaths mean progress, they are the omen, their wakes are the rites of passage, they help the plot move forward in a way no other plot device would and if handled correctly, they can even serve the ulterior motive of a happy ending (totally Austenian, I know).

Before I get into that full-on, I should clarify that all my musings have only one goal: determine the Sydcarmy friendliness level of a character, scene, storyline, etc. I couldn't care less about what's gonna happen on the show as a whole, I just care about how what may or may not happen on the show is compatible with my Sydcarmy endgame purpose and to what extent exactly? Full stop. The rest of the predictions are fun, sure, but don't really spike my curiosity or interest that much, I can totally live without them. Whilst I have dived into them and nailed some, obviously, it's like watching grass grow for me, IDGAF. The only predictions I truly care about are the Sydcarmy ones, mine and others´, because we have an awesome fandom that really pays attention to detail and treats the matter with the importance it has. It's not just a ship like any other, shipping Sydcarmy became a mission because it's us against the world pretty much, even though we have grown in numbers since The Bear slayed during the past award season, we still need to deal with a lot of 💩💩💩 from the anties and the neutrals and of course, the racists, and the gaslighting cast and crew, so it's literally us against all odds. Hence, I may not agree with everything I read around here all the time, of course, but we are brothers in arms, guys. #RESPECT.

That being said I think Cicero (aka The Godfather) is better off dead so The Bear's debt dies with him. Because, and here's the whole argument I took my sweet time to make, thanks for sticking around:

Source: Chef's pencil.com (2024)

In the graphic above we can see the ever-rising prices the customers have to pay to dine there, those are only the current ones, that graphic will be outdated by fall of this year when menus rotate. Naturally, those numbers are directly proportional to the ever-rising production costs. Besides, let's not forget that when a restaurant is granted a star, to maintain it, it needs to innovate. They can't keep it by doing the same thing they were doing when they were rewarded that star to begin with. If the "inspectors" don't perceive there's enough innovation in the menu the next year, they can remove the star/s that was/were previously granted, that's why retaining stars is a lot harder than getting them. So that equals higher costs, in other words: more money and sometimes, less revenue.

Michelin-star restaurants' costs are always on the rise, always, no matter what. That is why they are usually acquired by "Groups" or corporations that can endure the financial blow of keeping the restaurant operational and still maintain a somewhat solid profit margin. Also, their business model tends to branch out to books, private events or collaborations, etc to get different streams of income, other than the actual dining experience provided to their customers on-site. Usually, all of that has a cost structure that requires the backup of a corporation, and there are investment groups that specialize in providing that kind of support to the restaurants, kind of what Cicero does but at a much larger scale, and legit.

So: when The Bear gets its star (notice I say when and not if) our heroes will get what they want and shortly after will be "payback time", sorry I didn't make the rules. More details that back my assumption about the star can be found here.

What I want and wish to happen is that the "payback" is a crisis along the lines of: "OK, we got the bullshit star but we are still not making ends meet and if we wanna keep it, then that means we are nowhere near paying off the debt we have with The Godfather and thus he will take it all, that was the deal, we are gonna be left with nothing, all of this for nothing -I'm sorry, Syd, but hey! We still have each other, right?-". See the dramedy?

And that leads me to think that if Storer kills Cicero off we will all be happy, The Bear will keep its star (debt free) and will continue operations and Sydcarmy can flourish after that crisis, which most likely strained the relationship but they will be able to make it up.

Unrelated (?) Plus The Godfather, in the movie, really dies and gives the inheritance to his son (Al Pacino). You can watch that death here and I hope I'm not the only one who can see poetry in his death, surrounded by tomatoes on a beautiful sunny day... Awww.

I have plenty of reasons to call Cicero the Godfather but I won't dive into those yet. Raincheck? After watching season 3 I will give Cicero a run for his money if Storer doesn't ax him first as a cliffhanger, that is (which I think would be all kinds of awesome but I won't hold my breath for that one). He's shady, he does "Risky business", I can tell.

Summing up: At the end of S3 we should have a star or James Beard award which is the prequel to a Michelin Star and that will take us straight to payback and the need to tie that loose end either as a cliffhanger in S3 or in S4, which I think will be more like a series finale because I never saw The Bear as a 5 season arc, I always thought that 4 were enough and I was right about the renewal, so even though I hope I'm wrong in thinking there will be no S5, I don't think I am because the story can totally get a great closure in 4 seasons. So, by then, Cicero should be gone and we should be starting to see that in S3.

He should be the price they will all have to pay to get what they want. 🤞

I haven't forgotten about my ulterior agenda:

Level of Sydcarmy friendliness of Cicero's death → 💯

It will secure the restaurant, liberating them from the debt and bringing them closer together because Syd's shoulder can be the shoulder Carmy cries on when the only father figure he has left, after Mikey's death, is gone = 😍.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[somethinglikethatyeah83]

HE GOT AWAY: Alec Hardy

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Reader

Warnings: Threatening, mentions of death, knifes and you get stabbed. Broadchurch stuff, I guess? Set during the Danny Latimer case so massive spoilers for season 1

Summary: You know who Danny's killer is, but only because he comes to have a word with you...

Word Count: 2.33K

Alec wasn’t home, still in the office. I’m still off after having Violet but Alec had wanted to get back to work as soon as possible for the Danny Latimer case. 

Which I think I’d just solved.

Joe Miller stood in my kitchen, a place I felt as a sanctuary, holding an eight inch knife pointing in my direction. I didn’t know if I would be able to step in this room again after tonight, if I got out alive. Joe, though, was nervous. Completely and utterly unstable as he shook in front of him. His interrogation against me was evidently unplanned, as I recognised the handle from my kitchen drawer. But his stance was wary, which meant I had a chance of getting out alive.

My gun was in the living room, on the highest bookshelf so Violet couldn’t get to it, but still in reach of me, just in case anything happened. I couldn’t get to it at the moment, though. The last time I used it must have been a good 6 months ago, and I couldn’t even remember if it had any bullets in it, but maybe that was for the best. A scared still hormonal mother with a gun? Never a good idea. And maybe just the notion of getting shot would be enough to get Joe to cave. If I could get a hold of it. 

“Joe-”

“Shut up!” He shouted, shaking the knife at me. He had tears in his eyes and that fearful look that scared me. He could do anything and I wouldn’t be able to stop him.

“Don’t make this mistake.” I warned, holding my hand out in front of me, a good distance. “You’re unstable and scared- I don’t blame you-”

“Scared and holding a knife, do you really want to take that risk?” He threatened, feet glued to the wooden floor, but staring at me with an intensity that only a murderer could have.

“Put the knife down, Joe.”

“Why should I?”

“Remember I’m with the police. I’m married to the detective inspector and best friends with the DS, your wife. You kill me, here, tonight, everybody is going to know. Alec will leave no stone unturned until he finds my killer and when he finds you, which you know he will, he won’t be merciful.” I tell him, watching as his face dropped and it clicked in his head what he was doing. Clicked that what he was doing made no sense at all. “You already have Danny’s life on your conscious, do you really want mine?”

He was so close to caving. To handing the knife in and letting me take him down to the station. But then the phone rang, my mobile sat on the counter, lit up with Alec’s number.

Joe’s face hardened. “Answer it, put it on speaker. Act normal.”

I reached down and answered it, hearing the chatter of the office, Alec’s voice calming me even though he had no clue that a murderer was in our kitchen, threatening to kill me.

“Darlin’, was there anything you wanted me to pick up from the shops on the way home?” He asked, from over the phone, in a moderately perky mood compared to how he would be if he knew. 

I stuttered, stumbling over my words and the nerves took a hold. Joe’s stare for worse. “We need tomatoes for dinner.” I told him, saying the first thing that came into my head because there was a murderer in my kitchen. 

There was silence over the phone, but only for a second. It would probably be the last thing I said to him. I probably wouldn’t make it out here alive and he would have no clue. I’d die here tonight and leave Violet without a mother, Alec without the love of his life, the one person he can tell everything and anything. 

What would Ellie think?

I hadn’t even thought of her. Her husband was a murderer, and she had no idea. Her husband, the father of her children, Tom and Fred, was a murderer. None of them had any clue. And if I didn’t get out here alive tonight, no one would ever know until Alec found out. Joe would walk free.

“You alrigh’, love?” Alec asked from the other side, his voice high and laced with worry. He knew something was wrong, and Joe would make me pay the consequences for that.

I swallowed, steadying my voice, my eyes still staring at Joe to make sure he didn’t move. “Yeah, perfect. Violet’s already asleep upstairs so we’ve got the evening to ourselves.”

“Lovely. I’ll text you when I’m on my way. Love you.” 

“Love you too, Alec, so much.” I tell him, and I could almost hear the smile on his face as he says goodbye again, and ending the call. 

I flip my phone over quickly, turning to Joe again who still has the knife pointed in my direction. He’s still scared but he’s managed to mask some of it. Definitely still unstable, though, and I still might have a chance to let him cave.

“You’re really going to kill me?”

“Why shouldn't I?” He negotiates, taking a step closer to me, which now has my back against the door. I want to stay as far from him as possible, but if he steps closer there’s nowhere else I can go. “You know what I’ve done. You’ll get me arrested. If I get you out the way, Tom and Fred will still have a father. Do you really want them to lose me?”

“Do you want Violet to lose her mother?”

“She isn’t my kid!” He shouts, making me flinch. He can’t control his anger, the tears of frustration falling from it but also a higher chance of another murder here tonight. 

I took a deep breath. “How would you feel if you lost Ellie, huh? It’s the same situation, Joe. How is she going to react to you killing Danny and me?”

“She’ll never find out.”

“You know she will.” I shook my head, swallowing and watching as he got closer. Closer to giving in. “You can’t just refuse it. You can either spend your life riddled with guilt for Danny and I, or you can go with grace and get better. Settle your mind.”

“No.”

“All you have to do is come with me. I’ll take you down to the station. You can confess and serve the time you deserve.” I negotiate, knowing I was helping. Knowing I was so, so close to getting him to cave. I had a chance to get a murderer off the streets tonight and I was as sure as hell going to do my best. “You killed a child, Joe, there’s no escaping that. You can at least go with some dignity, instead of making it worse.”

“No!” He shouts, his whole body shaking with fear, and confusion, and I know he knows I’m right, but he’s fighting it out of fear. He doesn’t want to go, and I don’t blame him, but he deserves it. 

He shakes his head, slowly taking small steps towards me. Each step has my heart rate speeding up. This was it. I was going to die tonight and there was nothing I could do about it. Alec and Violet would be left alone, without a mother and a wife.

“Joe, don't do this.

“You can’t stop me!” 

“She can’t.” Alec’s voice came from behind me. I hadn't even heard the door. “But I can.”

But it wasn’t quite enough. Everything happened too quickly after that for me to keep track. Joe grabbed my wrist and spun me around so I was facing Alec, and the cold metal of the knife was held up against the sensitive skin of my neck. Alec had his gun pointing at Joe, who I could no longer see, but feel his hand on my wrist.

“Joe, don’t do this.” Alec warned, eyes darting between Joe and I. “Killing a police officer is worse than murdering a child, the time you’ll spend in prison will almost double.”

“That’s all I’ve been hearing from her, ain’t it? For the past half an hour.” He sounds disgusted when he refers to me, looking at Alec. 

“Put the knife down.”

Joe didn’t say anything. The tension was too thick, the air was warm and the anger that spilled from Alec was worse than I’d ever seen it before. This could go either way, one would end up with me dead, or a murderer in prison. I knew which one it would be immediately.

And there it was.

An excruciating pain in my abdomen, blood in my ears and dripping onto the floor. There was muffled shouting, a deep Scottish shout and some smashing that resembled that of glass, I wasn’t paying attention. But it didn’t matter. All the chaos didn’t matter, not anymore. Because a murderer was getting away because I’d let him. Joe was getting away.

“He’s getting away…” I murmur, reaching my hand out to the window. It all felt so far away now.

Alec was above me, though, I knew that much. I could just about feel his hand in mine. “You’re going to be fine. Bob’s called an ambulance, we’re going to get you to a hospital.”

He was getting blurry, though, and slowly further and further away from my reach.  I knew I was about to black out but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Joe was getting away and I was about to die. Alec and Violet would be left alone.

“He’s getting away…”

I could hear the heart monitor, and when I tried to move, a dull ache still throbbed in my abdomen. The smell of sheet vinyl and cheap PPE plastic overwhelmed me, but at least it told me where I was; a hospital. 

At least I was alive.

Part of me knew that wouldn’t let me die in our kitchen that night, but most of me knew that chances were I wouldn’t. Joe probably only just missed a vital organ, and I still could have died from blood loss.

But I didn’t. I was alive. I was alright. Alec and Violet still had a wife and a mother.

And there they were, sitting right next to me in the hospital bed. 

He sat bolt upright when he saw my eyes open, Violet cradled in his arms, sleeping softly. It was obvious the second I looked at him that he hadn’t had a wink of sleep for however long I had been out. 

“You’re awake.”

“I’m alive.” I told him. “That’s more important.” 

Alec nodded, shuffling closer to me in the hospital chair he’d been given. I reached out for him to pass my Violet but he shook his head.

“They’ve said you’re not allowed to hold her until the wound has fully healed. And no pressure on it at all, so when you sit down you have to sit up straight. And no work until it’s fully healed, too.” He lectured, evidently worried for what my reaction would be.

No work and no daughter? Now that was just cruel.

“Shit, seriously?”

“I’m sorry. As soon as you’re allowed, I’m sure she’ll be clinging to you.”

I shrug, looking over at her in Alec’s arms. She was so cute, asleep. Not knowing that her mother had nearly been murdered. By someone that had held her, someone that knew her. I hadn’t even thought about it.

“Joe. It was Joe.” 

“Aye, I know.”

I looked up at Alec who had a nervous look in those gorgeous eyes of his. “How could we have missed it? How could it be someone we know so well?”

Alec shrugged. “I don’t know.”

It was time to ask the question I’d been avoiding. “Have you told Ellie?”

“No.” He shook his head. “She wasn’t in the right frame of mind after she heard what happened to you and I wouldn’t want to make it worse. She had to be told in a civil place, where she can’t do anything to harm anyone or herself.”

“I can’t believe he got away.” I started unconsciously tapping against the hospital blanket I was shrouded in. I couldn’t believe that I had let him get away. I thought I’d either die in the room or a murderer would be off the streets, it hadn’t occurred to me that he could have ran away.

And what would Ellie think? She would find out soon enough and I really don’t think she would be able to handle anything like this at the moment. Tom and Fred would lose their father and Ellie would lose the man she thought she could trust the most.

“Don’t blame yourself.” Alec murmured, holding Violet with one arm and taking my hand in his spare one. “There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

I leant back against the pillow. “I know, I just- he was right there. If I’d had cuffs on me I could have arrested him there and then but I wasn’t at work. I don’t even think the gun has bullets in it.”

“If it hadn’t been for you, if you hadn’t kept him busy we wouldn’t know it was him. Now we know who to look for. We’ll find him soon.” Alec assured, squeezing my hand.

I looked up at him and smiled. He sent a soft smile back as my thoughts started spiraling again. “How did you know I was in trouble?”

Alec laughed slightly, a fond smile on his face. “You told me we needed tomatoes. You hate tomatoes. I knew you only would have said that as the first thing that came into your mind. I knew you were in danger.”

“Thank goodness you know me so well.” I smile. “I love you.”

Alec grinned down at me, nodding. “Love you too. And we’ll catch him, promise.”

[post-uwuifier]

According to all known laws of aviation,there is no way a bee should be able to fly.Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground.The bee, of course, flies anywaybecause bees don't care what humans think is impossible.ANumber2Pencil, Dec 7, 2016#1dinocerosDonatorMessages:7,482Likes Received:29,999Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black.Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little.Barry! Breakfast is ready!Ooming!Hang on a second.Hello?- Barry?

to make one decision in life.But, Adam, how could they never have told us that?Why would you question anything? We're bees

No one's listening to me!Wait till you see the sticks I have.I could say anything right now.

Hi my name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I'm in the seventh year (I'm seventeen). I'm a goth (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

"Hey Ebony!" shouted a voice. I looked up. It was… Draco Malfoy!

"What's up Draco?" I asked.

"Nothing." he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!Let's open some honey and celebrate!Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae.Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!I'm so proud.- We're starting work today!

Today's the day.Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone.Yeah, right.Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal…- Is it still available?

Hang on. Two left!One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side.- What'd you get?

Picking crud out. Stellar!Wow!Oouple of newbies?Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!Make your choice.- You want to goetting the Krelman?

Sure, you're on.I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.Wax monkey's always open.The Krelman opened up again.What happened?A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one.Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life!Oh, this is so hard!Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer,humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor,mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should… Barry?Barry!All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine…What happened to you? Where are you?- I'm going out.

Out? Out where?- Out there.

Oh, no!I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life.You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello?Another call coming in.If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rdthat gets their roses today.Hey, guys.- Look at that.

Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday?Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted.It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.Really? Feeling lucky, are you?Sign here, here. Just initial that.- Thank you.

OK.You got a rain advisory today,and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain.So be careful. As always, watch your brot thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Behold the handmaid of the Lord: Be it done unto me according to Thy word. They drive crazy.- Do they try and kill you, like on TV?

Some of them. But some of them don't.- How'd you get back?

im back UwUcifer, can i enter my own contest?

ah, stwuck again by wengthy ask anon! Mad wespect, yes yoo may UwU

[candycryptids]

beep beep QUESTION TIME!!!

what are each of your characters' favorite minion(s) and why? 👀

Bet you weren’t expecting SCREENSHOTS!!!! BAM…!! (I was trying to get into cozy town so these are speed-shots LOL it was a fun pseudo challenge gettin em all done in under an hour)

Chuu’s favorite Minion is the Toy Alexander: a moving mini replica of the time traveling Machine-God? and it’s kinda hot? It’s one of the few machines she didn’t build herself but only because Cid and the Ironworks rushed to do it before she could, fearing the features she’d put into a tiny war machina-Primal. It’s like an action figure to her. It’s set a hilarious precedent though, and she’s still waiting for her Miniature G-Warrior. Chop chop Garlond!

Tuesday’s favorite minion is Gigi, after he has a long talk with Keathan and he retires the Haurchefant Mammet for a spell, worrying for the negative impact it was having on his mental state. He finds a lot of kinship with Gigi, though, being black mage machines. …… he’s a little worried about what misadventures the Inspector is going to get up to next time, though. And that scrawny elezen and his dog, who seemed to conveniently be away whenever the Elezen Inspector Briardien came around….

Nobody knows where that little baby Buffalo came from. Nobody stopped Tangy from scooping it up under her arm like a little purse dog and taking it with her when they moved to the Rising Stones, either. It’s just a little guy! She couldn’t leave it there all alone. What if something like a Pelican tried to eat it… also, it’s cute, and round, and the Rising Stones could use a Mascot anyways.

Ishi’s favorite minion- that isn’t one of his increasing clowder of kitten adoptee’s- is the Odder Otter! He ADORES silly little mascot like creatures, so he jumped at the chance to have a little pal of his own to come on adventures. It even has its own little lantern! He might just cry thinking about it. When he finds out about the Abroader Otter he’s going to become inconsolable. Lmao.

The OOC origin behind Colette’s baby bat is when her and Setsuna first set off on their journey together in Ul’Dah, a stranger came and pressed Bats into their possession. It was baffling, and funny. The IC origin is fuzzier, only that Setsuna and Colette have had them since they first started adventuring and they’re probably attuned to each other in some way. Either way, here’s Colette and aptly named ‘Bat’.

Mochiie refuses to let anything bad happen to little Ryunosuke. Which is why he makes sure the jacket is on snug and fully when it’s raining, so the chick doesn’t run risk of catching cold while they’re traveling together. He has the problem Ishi has with adopting cats, but with Chocobo chicks. He’s pretty sure Ryunosuke is some kinda Hingan Pygmy breed, meant for Nobles to keep in their estates and on display, prized for their docile, lap-loving nature and silky plumage. He doesn’t get on very well with Cindy, or Sandy, but that’s not a huge surprise; the girls are strong personalities, spoiled with attention, and bigger, older birds from a breed meant for Combat, not pets. Mindy tolerates Ryunosuke but only because she knows he would fit perfectly in her mouth if she so chose to, and Mochi would be extremely upset in her if she did.

Levraut’s favorite minion is. Naturally. Canonball :’3 the scrappy little wolf pup saved from the brink of starvation and then fed up, spoiled with plenty of attention and poor manners. He’s stolen a fair number of unsuspecting sandwiches… Lev is going to have to teach him the thieves code one of these days or they’re both going to get in trouble lol.

[shader for all is Neneko’s Gameplay Essence]

[iviarellereads]

Nona the Ninth, Bonus Material: The Unwanted Guest

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which the fandom goes wild.

Laid out as a stageplay, surely setting us up (one might say, setting the scene) for impromptu fan performances, Tamsyn Muir gave us just one bonus in the Nona paperback, but it's a doozy. I am operating under the assumption that you have read (or listened to a fan assembled live or recorded performance of) the whole play in my comments. If you haven't, you can now read it yourself here for free!

Scene One

The stage is set: a funeral, with seven coffins, a row of six and one at the front distinguished from its fellows by its many gold and violet flowers(1) and wreaths, and being propped open at the top. A tray of meat sits on the closed bottom. Mourners(2) in gaudy masks take a piece of meat, then lean into the open head, though the view obscures whether they're kissing or feeding the presumed corpse.(3)

Palamedes Sextus is the final mourner in the line, his mask plain, wooden, shattered and pieced back together. He almost looks like he belongs. As the last mourners file out, he considers the meat, skips it,(4) and reaches into the coffin.

A hand grabs his arm and the corpse sits upright. It's IANTHE TRIDENTARIUS. Her face is covered in bloody kisses. Ianthe You're fucked, my lad. The lights go out.

Scene Two

The room is now empty, except for a fireplace with no fire, and the door at the back. Ianthe stands by the fireplace, dressed as a butler. Pal enters, in a ruined grey suit with a purple tie,(5) though his body isn't apparently injured at all.

Pal is calling upon "the lady of the house", for at least the second time. Ianthe-butler says "the master's answer"(6) won't have changed. Pal would still like to hear that for himself, and offers a whole skeletal hand(7) when Ianthe-butler asks for his card. Ianthe-butler says "If you'd be so good as to stay here", and steps out through the door.

Pal faces the audience at the front of the stage. He speaks of the grammar of "if", and how sometimes it's used for permission and sometimes used to command while pretending to acknowledge another person's agency.

In the background, Ianthe returns, now dressed in an "ooh-la-la" maid costume with "an enormous purple feather duster",(8) flicking it at the dead fireplace. Pal continues his monologue on "if", finishing with the assertion that the phrasing Ianthe-butler used is over-the-top in its politeness, so it circles back to being rude again.

Palamedes A pretty silk glove over a fist of iron. Or, in this case, gold. He turns to the maid for the first time. Palamedes Don't you think? Ianthe No, sir.

Ianthe-maid curtseys and leaves, stage right.(9) Pal is examining the dead fireplace when the butler returns through the door, and says the master will see him in "the Almond Room". (10) Pal doesn't move, but robed figures wheel the coffins from the first scene back in, now numbered 1 through 7, standing upright in a semicircle in the center of which is placed a chaise longue.(11) Pal pays no attention to the action.

The door opens again and Ianthe enters, this time in a rather daringly unbuttoned shirt and a pair of leather trousers, plus a Lyctoral rainbow robe draped over her shoulders.(12) The whole affect is louche;(13) she carries a small clutch bag. Ianthe walks over to the chaise longue and drapes herself across it artistically.

Having made her true entrance, Ianthe says it's so good of the "Inspector" to call so late.(14) He says it's not that late, she affirms that it is quite late, given how he's in tatters and can't last much longer. Pal says she's been saying that for the last three visits.

Ianthe asks what Pal wants. He says the same thing he's been asking for, the body of Naberius Tern. Ianthe finally agrees that he shall have it, if he can win a simple game. Pal is surprised, but goes along with it. She says he only has to guess which of the seven coffins, after asking her no more than five questions, none of which can be directly asking which coffin he's in or anything about the coffins themselves. He debates with her about how many questions it would take under those other circumstances, and she observes that he must have been great fun at parties.(15)

Palamedes asks his first question unintentionally: will Ianthe play fair? She says she never does, and he has four left.

Palamedes pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand, turns away, and walks downstage. The curtain falls behind him--leaving him alone with the audience. Palamedes Ianthe's sparkling personality aside . . . this doesn't really make much sense. A new VOICE answers from the back of the auditorium. We do not see the speaker.(16)

The voice asks why it doesn't make sense. Pal says logic questions depend on a set of rules, and Ianthe hasn't set any. The voice suggests thinking more broadly, because logic isn't the important piece here: psychology is.

Pal almost talks himself out of this, but then the voice asks what would happen if he asked Ianthe to pick a number from one to seven. Pal realizes she likely would pick that number, trying to outfox him.(17) The voice says it won't be quite that easy, but Pal can get Ianthe to open herself up unintentionally and expose herself so he can get the answer. Pal nods and turns back to the stage as the curtains rise.

Voice I mean, more than she's already exposing herself with that shirt. (Pause) I'm kind of into the trousers, though.(18)

Scene Three

The curtain rises on the same scene as before--seven upright coffins, chaise longue, Ianthe--except that a robed and masked figure is now standing beside each of the coffins. Palamedes walks upstage to stand next to the chaise longue.

Palamedes says he has his first question. Ianthe corrects him, second, but invites him to ask. Pal asks if Ianthe believes in "the permeability of the soul?" Ianthe is dismissive, as the robed figures move the coffins. They place coffins 2 and 6 on their backs on either side of the chaise. Pal sits on coffin 6 awkwardly, as an attendant crowns Ianthe with ivy and sprays her with perfume, and another puts a gold cup in her hand and fills it from a gold jug.(19)

Ianthe wanted Pal to ask something more fun, maybe something sexual in nature. The attendants offer Pal a cup, but he covers it with his hand before they pour anything in.

Ianthe (Despairingly) You don't even drink! Palamedes In my defence: I'm dead, and this wine doesn't exist.

Ianthe suggests this improves it, as the false can have a "piquancy"(20) that the real lacks. Pal asks if that's a quote from something, and Ianthe, acting increasingly drunk,(21) goes on about pétillance(22) and asks if Pal's "tingue" ever "toungle[d]" when he was alive. Pal says they're not here to talk about his tongue, and makes to repeat his question, but Ianthe remembers. She addresses the attendants to say there's nothing the Sixth won't turn into a seminar, and she "shudders to imagine their pillow talk." Pal says "pillow talk is a science" on the Sixth, and Ianthe responds that she's not interested.

Getting back to the matter at hand, Ianthe admits(23) she does not believe in permeability of the soul. Pal asks if that means she believes "that the soul is both indivisible and impermeable", which she does. He asks if Ianthe believes the soul is malleable, can be altered or deformed. Ianthe says it must be so, or a revenant wouldn't behave as it does. Pal asks then if the soul is only imperfectly elastic, able to return to its original shape. Ianthe agrees to this as well

Pal summarizes: one would expect that a revenant would act like a newborn child in its behaviour, but there are cases where revenants clearly act in ways informed by their adult lives.(24) Ianthe accepts this, and with no reference made to the query about being in agreement being Pal's last question.(25)

Thus, Pal comes back to his original question: if you accept that the soul can be changed, and never fully recover, does it not follow that it can be diminished as well? Ianthe says that's not at all given. Pal says that surprises him, because most objects that can be deformed can be diminished. He compares it to a stone and a sculptor shaping it, and the stone can't regrow what was chipped off, and indeed someone who works around stone work will wear a mask to avoid breathing in the stone dust and damaging himself.

Tried beyond her patience, Ianthe takes off her garland and flings it irritably across the stage.

Ianthe can't do it anymore(26) and says the soul cannot be diminished because it's the underpinning of Lyctorhood. If the soul could be diminished, it couldn't be the perpetual fuel for the Lyctor's power, and only a soul can be used without being consumed in the process. Pal says that they don't know it, but Ianthe says she's a Lyctor, and she studied under Augustine who was a Lyctor for ten thousand years, and Pal has no idea.

Pal suggests that the rate of decay might be infinitesimally small, a soul might last a hundred thousand years before anyone noticed a change. Ianthe dismisses this as lacking evidence. Pal keeps trying to argue, but Ianthe says she's eaten a soul, and he hasn't.

Palamedes So your best argument boils down to "I know more about this than you do." Ianthe It's a very strong argument. Unless we get into "what's it like to be weirdly codependent with your dead-eyed cousin," I'm more or less guaranteed to win. Minions! Clear all of this garbage away; my guest has to go and take some deep breaths for a while.

The attendants move forward, and Pal walks to the edge of stage so the curtain can come down once more, hiding the action behind him. He says that went well, but the voice says the argument went nowhere.

Palamedes Ouch. Voice Sorry, babe, I can't compliment-sandwich this.(27)

Pal says it wasn't nowhere, he has a better idea of Ianthe's philosophical stances, and he thinks he can exploit them. The voice asks if jumping into Ianthe's "pet body" was Camilla's idea.(28) It continues that the Third are very good at giving people what they think they want, and Pal's best bet might be to stop asking Palamedes-questions, which she expects, and start asking Ianthe-questions. Pal isn't good at those, but the voice encourages him: play to your own weakness, everything here is Ianthe. Pal protests, not the bit that's Naberius Tern, which the voice points out is the part Pal is trying to find.

Palamedes considers this. Palamedes Ianthe questions. Okay. He turns upstage as the curtain begins to rise. Voice I believe in you. Palamedes (Over his shoulder) You didn't always. I had to fight for that.

Scene Four

The curtain rises on the stage, reset, with Ianthe on her chaise once more. The order of the coffins is now changed to 7-2-3-4-5-6-1.(29) Ianthe asks if Pal is feeling better, Pal says he doesn't feel much of anything, being dead, but he has his next question.

Ianthe Oh, Lord. Something juicy about pneumatic apocope,(30) I expect. I feel like I'm playing strip poker with Harrow; shyly unbuttoning her baggy black robe to reveal a baggier, blacker robe(31) underneath . . . (Pause) Yuck. I hope that hasn't awakened anything in me.(32)

Instead, Pal asks if Ianthe regrets murdering Babs. All seven attendants strike the lids of their respective coffins, once, together, then pick up coffins 2-3 and 5-6 and form waist-high barriers on either side of the stage by stacking them. Pal stands behind the one on the left, Ianthe behind the right, facing center stage.(33)

Ianthe gets a little up in arms over calling it murder. Pal says if she has another word for killing "intentionally and with malice aforethought," he'd be glad to switch. Ianthe says there was no malice involved.

Palamedes slams both hands down flat on the lid of the upper coffin, then thrusts his arm out to point an accusing finger at Ianthe.(34)

Pal accuses Ianthe of avoiding the question.

Ianthe is somewhat taken aback. So, after a second, is Palamedes.(35)

Ianthe asks why Pal did that, but Pal doesn't know. Still, he gets back on topic, and asks if Ianthe really denies she murdered Babs. No, it's a fair enough accusation,(36) but society is really to blame.(37) The cavalier's whole purpose is to die for the necromancer, though Cam's got "an element of horse/stable door confusion".(38)

Pal counters that the cav's role is to protect their necromancer, so what did Tern die to protect, Ianthe's ambitions? Ianthe says she is the sum of her ambitions, and that's why she and "Harry" are Lyctors, and Pal is "a little bag of bones."(39) Pal suggests Ianthe must be a real catch for salespeople, because she never stops to look at the price tag. If she came into his shop, he'd triple the cost of everything, and Ianthe would be too careless to notice the label swap. Ianthe retorts that if Pal came into her shop, she'd have security throw him out when he tried to haggle.

Ianthe states outright: the cost is the cost, and if blood must be shed, you demean yourself by arguing over how much. Pal asks if that's her answer, then, that Tern had to die, so she regrets nothing? Ianthe pivots and says she was very fond of him, and she thinks he was fond of her.

Pal is surprised, and Ianthe says Babs had some good points. He was always a good source of drama, for example. His tragedy was that he looked like he should be very interesting, but he never was. He was loyal, though it was to Coronabeth. He was sworn to serve before Ianthe and Corona were even conceived,(40) but he never shirked his obligation to it. Not like Harrow's original cav, who couldn't come to Canaan House because he was too sad. Pal says he heard it was because he got blown up, and Ianthe says yes, blown up for being too sad. And look at Abigail Pent, bringing her husband, and where did she get?(41)

Pal is flabbergasted. He says, so Ianthe was raised with Babs, since before Pal even knew Cam, and she still doesn't regret killing him? Ianthe pauses, then says no, and claps her hands.

Ianthe (Brightly) That's all, folks!(42) Back after the break.

Pal wanders downstage, distracted, as the curtains descend behind him.

Palamedes Do you know the worst part? Voice Tell me. Palamedes From her point of view, it all makes sense. Tern was shaped over years to be nothing more than--than-- Voice A perfect tool? Palamedes --a resource.(43) Something to be saved up and then spent at just the right moment. [...] Voice (Reproachfully) Cam would have smiled at "perfect tool." Palamedes Yes--she would have.(44)

A long paragraph is spent describing Pal pulling out, lighting, and smoking a cigarette. The voice draws attention to it, which makes Pal stare, with no described emotion or expression, at the cigarette between his fingers.

The voice brings him back, asking if he has any ideas for his last two questions. Still distracted, he says he thinks he does. The voice warns, he needs to use these wisely. If he doesn't turn up something, he'll lose. At this, Pal comes back to himself, drops and stomps on the cigarette, wipes his hand on his jacket. He wishes he had more time to think. As he turns away, the voice says he "used to say that a lot."

Scene Five

The stage is back to neutral, but the coffins in order 3-2-7-4-1-6-5. Ianthe asks Pal if he's had any insight. Pal asks what Ianthe made of Gideon Nav, at Canaan House. Ianthe asks why the curveball, and Pal says he had a question to spare, and was curious. Ianthe is reluctantly kind of proud of Pal's sudden trash talk.

The attendants take coffins 3, 2, 7, and 4, making a rectangle of them on the stage, a dueling ring. Attendants bring two rapiers, offering the more ornate to Ianthe, who accepts, and the less ornate to Pal, who refuses politely. The attendant is confused but takes up a dueling stance with Ianthe in the ring.

Ianthe asks where she should begin on "sweet Gubbins."(45) Pal asks for first impressions. Ianthe and the attendant duel, the latter poorly. Another attendant takes the place. Ianthe says she was intrigued, because everyone else was exactly on script for their Houses. Harry playing her part to the hilt, but Gideon dawdling behind her? Not the Ninth brand.

Palamedes "Harry"? Ianthe It's my little name for her, you know. Palamedes I can't think of a single thing she'd hate more. Ianthe You lack imagination.

Another duel with an attendant, another win to Ianthe. Pal asks what was off. Ianthe says, well, everything! The sunglasses, the vow of silence she only barely kept, the way she handled her sword. She accuses Gideon of wandering around "like she was the protagonist and we were all there to give her something to look at."(46)

Another duel, another win. Pal asks when Ianthe knew she'd underestimated Gideon. Ianthe says she estimated Gideon Nav exactly right from the first moment she laid eyes on her: a hilarious moron. Pal suggests Gideon "was smarter than even she realised."(47) Ianthe is dismissive: Gideon lived and died a dope.

Another duel, another win. Ianthe says that's all Pal will get out of her on this one. Pal says it was "tremendously helpful" actually, and thanks her. Ianthe looks suspicious, but Pal is already walking downstage, his hands in his pockets, the curtain already falling.

Voice Poor Gideon. I think she sounded fun. Palamedes Mm. You'd have liked her, I suspect. I did, once I stopped being jealous.(48) Voice Can you do this with one more question?

Pal stares at the audience for a moment, and says he thinks so, though he'd have liked less... the voice supplies, psychology, and he agrees. The voice, addressing Pal as "my child", says "there's no shame in a bluff."

Pal, on the subject of shame, says he does feel ashamed of rooting around in a dead man's body like this. He didn't like Tern, but the man deserved better than this fate.

Voice "Use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping?"(49) Palamedes (Surprised) I like that. Is it from something? Voice Yes. It's complicated.

Pal asks if she still thinks of him as a child. Her problem was always reminding herself that he was one, as she told him often. He apologizes for not saving or avenging her or Pro. She says she couldn't save Pal either, and Cytherea was so fast, Pro couldn't even touch her. And, at least "we both"(50) were killed by the same person. Pal isn't comforted. The voice says it'll work out "in the wash."

Pal says he wants to believe, so much, that she is who she says she is, but she can't possibly be here. He asks how she did it. She says she gambled on the truth,(51) then died.

Palamedes You died . . . again? Voice Truly, wonderful news for my haters.(52)

Pal asks if he can know what happened. The voice says yes, but she's not allowed to tell. It was awful, "in the old sense of the word."(53) Pal asks if she can give him something. She describes a letter Pal wrote that delighted her.

It convinces him, and he tells her, though she says he doesn't have to, that he loved her, still loves her, and would have loved to learn to love her better. She says it would have been beautiful, and "Camilla would have had to cook."(54) But she didn't just want beautiful, she wanted it to last, and knew it could never. She didn't want to steal Pal's youth and potential for love away from him.

Palamedes This again? From you and her both?(55) That merely by loving you, I added to your torments? Voice (Encouragingly) Yes, and also my agonies. Palamedes Dulcinea . . .

Dulcinea, finally named by the structure, says that Pal and Cam were her best friends, and she "loved real, ugly, unfinished things." There's a freedom in being incomplete. Now she's not in the River, and will never be again.(56) Pal says if she's on the shore, he can find her. She asks which shore. Pal asks her pardon. Dulcinea says a river has two shores(57) and he might find that out for himself if it ends well.(58)

Pal asks to see her. She asks if he's sure. He is.

Blackout on the stage. Then a light on Palamedes--a Palamedes who is completely dazzled, and staring blankly outward, at nothing in particular.

Pal recites a Bible verse(59), then the lights black out again, then return to normal. Behind him, the curtain starts to rise.

Dulcinea Was I cute? Palamedes turns and moves upstage. Palamedes You're perfect.(60)

Scene Six

The stage is back to neutral, the coffins replaced but reversed, leaving the order 4-7-2-3-1-6-5.

Ianthe says the tension is killing her, or really, killing Hect. Pal says he has a question left. Ianthe says it better be a whopper, because right now she estimates he has nothing upon which to base an answer. Pal asks if she's ready, and Ianthe makes fun of him for it.

Pal asks, if Babs had died at Canaan House, before completing the Eightfold Word, would Ianthe have eaten Corona instead?

The attendants all hit their coffin lids together, once, then pick up the last three coffins and set them in the middle of the stage, like two benches and a table. Pal sits on the left hand one, Ianthe on the right, where she gets a pack of cards from an attendant and starts shuffling slowly. Throughout the scene, they play and pick up cards.(61)

Ianthe says it would be "rather peculiar" to eat Corona, seeing as she's not a cavalier. Pal doesn't understand why. Ianthe explains that the cavalier's spirit is not just a power source, it's the Lyctor's body's defence system when their consciousness is elsewhere. Pal knew that much. Ianthe says her sister is not a swordwoman. She'd have lost to Magnus, not as a cavalier, but as he is now.

Pal says Corona's compatibility as a power source would have been even higher than Tern's, and surely you could train some more sword skill into the cav's spiritual remains. Ianthe says that no, the cavalier is essentially frozen at the moment of death. Pal wonders...

Ianthe Oh, no. We're not going through this again. The soul is a diamond, Sextus. You can leave it in a glass of wine for as long as you like, it's never going to soak anything up. Palamedes (Mildly) I thought you objected to analogies.(62)

Ianthe says the point is that she wouldn't have used Corona to finish the job. So, Pal asks what else she would have done, perhaps using someone else's cav. Ianthe says that would be terribly inefficient. Pal says, better than nothing, and she'd still be a Lyctor. And, Harrow's situation was "unorthodox" but she still has power on a scale her mortal self couldn't have dreamed of. Ianthe admits, alright, she might have used another cav, and starts going through the others available to her.

Pal pulls Ianthe out of that line of thought and back to the subject at hand. Now, he wishes Ianthe to imagine a situation where things at Canaan House went almost as wrong as they could have, Cytherea coming up the steps, and Ianthe and Corona the only survivors, the Eightfold Word on Ianthe's lips. Does she fold or raise?

Ianthe refuses. She says Pal couldn't understand the bond between twins. Pal, for his part, says that won't work on him this time, and demands to know why Ianthe's answer. Ianthe says nothing.

Pal continues that Ianthe has stated that the goal is always worth the cost, so either that was bravado, and there are costs Ianthe won't pay, or Corona is part of her goal. Will Ianthe tell him which it is?

Ianthe plays her last card. Softly, she says Pal can believe what he will, but she's won: he has no idea which coffin Babs's body is in. She stands, and an attendant clears the cards. Pal says she hasn't answered the question, but she insists she has: no, she wouldn't have killed Corona, and she doesn't have to justify that answer.

Pal stands, and the attendants put all the coffins back, again in reverse order, leaving 4-7-2-3-5-6-1, then all leave the stage, leaving Pal and Ianthe alone. Pal says he has one last question, it's yes-or-no and if Ianthe can answer it, he'll surrender immediately. Ianthe is suspicious, but Pal insists, all he needs is for her to be able to say yes or no. A question about Naberius.

Ianthe accuses Pal of trying to buy time, but Pal says if that were the case, he'd start another argument about how souls work.

Ianthe So, what--if I can't answer this question of yours, am I expected to do the decent thing? Applaud politely and retire? Palamedes Ianthe, I've been in your head for what feels like a week. I would never insult you by expecting you to do anything either decent or polite. Ianthe inclines her head in graceful acceptance of this point.

Pal says she has nothing to lose by answering, and she owes him a question from before.(63) Ianthe says she owes him nothing, but they look at each other, and she gives in, and tells him to ask. Pal's final question is whether Ianthe knows where Babs's body is.

The two move to stand at either end of the row of coffins. Pal starts explaining how the little signs, like the purple tie, started to tip him off, but he assumed it was Ianthe setting the rules. He opens coffin 4, which is empty.

Really, it was the cigarettes that did it. They don't exist on the Sixth, because of the fire hazards. He has never learned how to smoke, but he did it by reflex. Ianthe opens coffin 1, empty again.

Pal continues his exposition, that he wasn't sure until question four. He opens coffin 7, next one in, empty again. He asks how Ianthe knew that Gideon used her rapier like a racquet. Ianthe protests, she saw Gideon fight, but Pal got the full details from Cam, and by the time Ianthe showed up at the end, Gideon had her two-hander back.

Ianthe says she might have watched the duels. Pal says it's not possible, as Gideon only fought two duels, and Ianthe wasn't in the room for them, nor at any other time Gideon might have used her rapier. Ianthe says Babs and Corona both told her about it. Pal says that's unlikely, at least in such detail as about the racquet. It's not even a comparison Ianthe would make.

But it is the one Babs might.

Ianthe opens coffin 6, empty. Pal continues that Ianthe expresses little to no respect for rules, but in her ranting about Gideon, she said Gideon didn't know how to duel as a negative. But, Ianthe Tridentarius would have found that punch at the end of their fight funnier than anyone. He opens coffin 2, empty.

Palamedes You only got one question wrong, Ianthe, and it was the very first question. You can't admit what's happened here because you're fixated on this idea of the soul as inviolate and inviolable--this perfectly solid, impervious thing, the diamond sitting in the glass of wine. But souls are permeable. When they rub up against each other, they bleed--they mingle--they contaminate each other. Just from the handful of real-life seconds I've spent wrestling you for Naberius's body, I've picked up the knowledge of how to light a cigarette and a disturbing new enjoyment of trash talk. Ianthe opens the lid of coffin number 5. It's empty. She and Palamedes are now facing each other from a few feet apart, standing on either side of the last remaining closed coffin, number 3.

Pal says it's messier than he expected. He's started remembering things he never saw, from Cam's point of view, just from spending a few months in her body. Lyctorhood isn't swapping out a battery, it's a transplant. When she took Babs into herself, she ate a piece of meat, and that meat is digesting and its component parts mixing in with hers, to become indistinguishable. He knocks on the lid of coffin 3, and says if he's wrong, if Babs's body is inside, Pal will end his career "with a truly spectacular cock-up" and death will be welcome. If it isn't, then it's nowhere.

Palamedes turns downstage and starts to walk away from the coffins. Ianthe remains staring at coffin number 3. Palamedes There's no body left to find, Ianthe. Or, as I gather they call you now . . . Ianthe Naberius.(64) Palamedes keeps walking, away from the stage toward the back of the auditorium. Ianthe stands like a statue next to coffin number 3. She reaches out and places one hand against its closed lid as the curtain falls.

=====

(1) Our first hint at the occupant, really. Violet eyes, gold arm, and the gaudiness (affectionate) of the Third House in general. (2) Who are the mourners? The robed figures? For that matter, who are the audience? We have Ianthe, we have Palamedes, we have Dulcie in the audience from kind of across the River. Does that imply something about the audience versus the mourners as representing different things? Are they all just figments of Ianthe's imagination, background characters of her life, or is this something more? (Knowing what we do, probably both.) (3) What did you assume it is? I don't think the bloody kisses actually answer the question very satisfactorily, because, from whence cometh the blood? I do love the symbolism of the meat platter though, because that's all Babs ever was, and Ianthe is still eating him up. (4) Pal passing on Babs's meat is perfection, to me. He does consider it, maybe because of the desire not to stand out, maybe because of permeability starting to influence, maybe just because he's not yet aware of what it means. But he decides against it, because he's the last one there, because unconsciously he knows it's not his impulse to eat, because he recognizes on some level that Ianthe's meat platter is and has only ever been Babs. (5) Funny how much this stands out on immediate reread, eh? (6) The lady of the house, the master of the house, just another play on the gender fluidity that's easy for the eye to slip past. (7) I can't help but feel that this is related to Harrow's scene with Cam in HTN. See, Pal's soul was anchored to part of his skull. But if you recall, Harrow was spinning it out into a skeleton, starting with a hand. And I can't pinpoint right now, but I think I recall someone in the fandom wondering if the powder that caused Paul's transformation in the end derived from Pal's bones, even though he was at that point anchored fully to Cam. But, either way, the hand feels meaningful here. Hands so often are in this series.

(8) So, one reason I gesture at this is because the purple accents continue throughout, and it's impossible to ignore them with the Tridentarius natural eye colour being the most obvious parallel. The second reason is because Pal isn't the only one who picks up pieces of his companion in this sequence: Pal specifically said he finds the outfits nurses wear sexy, but those are so close to the stereotypical maid outfits as to justify a little eyebrow raising at Ianthe picking up a piece of Pal, I think. The final reason I gesture at the feather duster is because it's described as "enormous" specifically in the text. How big do you think it is? How big do you think you could make a prop for this performance? Grab a few purple feather boas at the Spirit Hallowe'en or something this autumn, fold them in half, tie them at the fold point to a sturdy stick. Just, you know, in case anyone's thinking about a cosplay, since this will be the defining feature. (9) I'd love to see a deeper examination from someone with theater experience as to what the stage directions might indicate, the comings and goings from each wall. (10) Why is it almonds? Is this a reference to a piece of media, a name of a nut as one or both go "nuts", or something else? I saw a compelling argument that it's related to the amygdala, two almond-shaped lobes in the brain that relate to memory, decision making, and emotion processing. (11) A note: not a lot of Americans in particular ever hear the original pronunciation of this word, so for the wise, it's "shayz", not "chase" or any of the other ways I've heard it. "Long" isn't quite the same as the French "longue" (it's got a sort of w in there, lowng, with the g a little more present) but it's close enough. It's "chaise" that really got the short end of loanwording. (I'm not saying anyone has to change how they do it, language is defined by use, not by origin, but a "chaise longue" comes from literally being a long chair in French, and if anyone DOES want to honour the original pronunciation over where it's gone, I want to help them.)

(12) I have no idea what this is referencing, but I feel sure that it is evoking something. An outfit of Augustine's that I can't find referenced in the text? Generally the male leads on historical romance novels, to play again with gender presentation? Some other specific thing? (13) Louche - indecent, disreputable. Think a neighbourhood of dive bars. (14) Flipping the script, keeping Pal off his guard as much as she can by jumping around a story and reassign the roles and the lines. (15) We know he actually probably was fun at parties, because according to the Cohort Intelligence Files, Judith met him at one once, and thought he wasn't serious enough about his role and title. Which, given that Judith has had a stick up her ass her entire life about duty (again, affectionate) I think we can take to mean that he was genuinely trying to be personable and fun at the party. (16) Dulcie is literally and figuratively separated from the stage, just as her spirit is now, apparently, if she's to be trusted, across the River. Does that mean beyond the stoma, or is there a more literal-figurative other bank? Is it that distance from the situation that gives her this insight, or was she always this good at reading people? (I'm asking here now to save myself another footnote later. Conservation of energy.) (17) Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line. This little sequence gives me very third-party Princess Bride vibes, though it's far from exclusive to that title. (18) Dulcinea, you naughty lady, I love this for you.

(19) I'm currently ignoring all symbolism that might be contained in the numerology of the doors because I don't understand it and I haven't seen anyone unravel it. However, I do feel like I'm right on the edge of recognizing what the ivy crown and perfume are supposed to represent. Ivy was often associated with Dionysus, the god of wine, fertility, ecstasy. The indulgence of the perfume and the further pouring of an ambiguous liquid into a goblet hints toward this end of things, but ivy was also a crown for Thalia, the muse of comedy, which would be perhaps even more apropos given the stage play of it all. But also, ivy was known outside Greek influence to be associated with fidelity and marriage, because it's green year-round and cleaves so sweetly and strongly to that upon which it grows. And all of these layers, every single one, comes back to permeability of the soul, and Ianthe's consumption of Babs, despite her skepticism. (20) Piquant - having a sharp or otherwise stimulating flavour. (21) I feel confident that this is what's intended by the tingue toungle bit, the implication that Ianthe might be getting drunk on her false wine, or at least is pretending she might. (22) Pétillance is much as Ianthe describes it, a light sparkle in a drink, or a sense of very mild fresh tingling from a very low carbon dioxide concentration. (23) OK I really haven't seen anyone mention this before but there's a fascinating thing going on with quotation marks as Ianthe replies here. Her direct responses to Pal, that she does not believe in permeability, all the way through to her aside, it's all in extra quotation marks, which Pal's statements don't have. (24) Pal was personally privy to one in the Doctor Sex story, after all. (25) Yes, I counted. Didn't you? It's very gracious of her to let all this stand as the one question for the sake of the narrative. (26) And here, indeed, is where the mysterious scare quotes end.

(27) I bet NONE of us guessed that this line belonged to Dulcinea when Tor did the pre-reveal puzzle. (28) Ah, but Dulcie, they've been slowly becoming Paul all this time. (29) I know I said I'm ignoring all the numerology, but I find it interesting that 7 and 1 are the only swap here, when Pal has just agreed to try to be more Ianthe. (30) This one's tricky. It's not an actual condition. In modern usage pneumatic just means engineering relating to air and air pressure, like pneumatic tires. But likely here it relates to the lungs (like pneumonia). And "apocope"… now that's a real puzzler, because it means the loss of the final sound or vowel in the pronunciation of a word. But, it comes from the Greek term for cutting off, like an amputation. So, I think Ianthe is referring to cutting out of the lungs. (31) I don't have the full context, and search engines are… really, really bad right now, but I do know that "a bigger, blacker dick" is a white response card in Cards Against Humanity, meant to outdo the card "a big black dick", and outdone itself only by the card "the biggest, blackest dick". This game was very popular a decade or so ago, because we were all edgelord jerks. (Yes, I have regrets.) At any rate, I assume they got the reference from somewhere, possibly a Chris Rock comedy routine title? But I can't find anything, er, definitive on the subject. (32) This, on the other hand, I can very much point at definitively. A scene in the TV show Community had the dean of the school hoping that watching a person in a dalmatian costume flex doesn't awaken anything in him. (33) Anyone who suspected the Phoenix Wright reference from this stage direction, job well done.

(34) OBJECTION! Alright, that's not the best video, but I couldn't find a simple one from the games that included both the slap and the pointing. There are compilations of the pointing animations of all the characters who ever object, but not the slap that comes first. (35) I do sort of love that they call attention to it to make sure you understand that it's a reference, but… Look, LOOK, look me in the eye and tell me a little of Jod isn't rubbing off on Ianthe already, that proximity to him isn't melting things across a little, and tell me you don't believe Jod absolutely played those games. Permeability of the soul need not be limited to literal contact with the soul: I think Muir is hinting that every time you let someone into your life, your souls are connecting, exchanging. And, isn't that true in real life? Can you say, for absolute certain, that your friends, your interactions, even your experience on social media, haven't changed you? I'm all about looking at the Watson and the Doyle, and I think this carries the weight of both. (36) What she says is "It's a fair cop, guv'nor." which has proven very difficult to run down as far as a specific reference, with guv'nor on the end, but generally is used to mean "I admit it, you caught me". (37) See, besides being a fairly common excuse given for committing crimes, I think this might be more evidence of Jod's influence. He's really good at blaming his problems on anyone but himself. I feel like I don't know as much about Ianthe, despite spending almost as much time with her. I could believe that she had a habit of it before… but given the whole point of this story, why not read more into it? For funsies. (This also makes the previous line a loose Monty Python reference, a skit of theirs included the line "All right, it's a fair cop, but society's to blame.") (38) Closing the stable door after the horse has already escaped. Ianthe sees the quest for a better Lyctorhood as pointless. If you recall, even she had the good sense to be awed when Paul emerged, but I like the context this gives to that.

(39) As a bonus question, when this scene takes place within the storyline of NtN, do we think that Ianthe still believes that Harrow's body is Harrow returned to the fold? Questions I have to ask myself the more I think about them… (40) Well, and left unsaid is that Corona was the older twin, the rightful heir, and Ianthe's jealousy has probably always been mixed evenly with her superiority because she got the power and Corona didn't. (41) Insert all the exaggerations here, because I'm fascinated at Ianthe's implications, as I see them. Abigail Pent ended up exactly where she wanted to be. Ianthe only seems to see the death, the wasted ambition and potential. She didn't know Pent at all. (42) I'm just glad Muir didn't try to write out Porky Pig's speech impediment to get this one across. (43) We joke a lot about Babs only ever being for consumption, never being a person, just an object. But it's also very much the truth. Ianthe never overestimated his worth to her. She just underestimated what he had done and would do to her. (44) Is this Dulcie hinting that Pal is already subject to his own permeability, even right before the cigarettes? (45) Gubbins - a collection of useless bits and bobs. Ianthe is so mean about Gideon, considering the friendship bracelets. Then again… Kiriona is the saddest girl in all the world, so she probably knows Ianthe doesn't really mean any of it. (46) Which is, of course, true. She was the protagonist of her story. But it's so interesting to see Ianthe, of the clever, quiet, observantness that still managed to miss so much, catch that behaviour. (47) Saw a post about how Pal makes this astonished face with Kiriona starts spouting necromancy facts, and how this line gives it new context. I just. Love. These books. I love Muir's brain. Every line can be looked at under a microscope and then the entire book totally recontextualized by ten words in a bonus story.

(48) Once he realized that Cytherea was not Dulcinea, and he had nothing to be jealous about, really. (49) The line from Hamlet is "Use every man according to his desert and who should 'scape whipping?" The short version of the context is Hamlet chastising Polonius for saying he'll give the guests what they deserve, because if we all only get what we deserve, who gets anything more than corporal punishment? So, where did Dulcinea get this line? Some force across the River? (50) This line is driving me feral. We both? Is that Dulcie and Pro, or Dulcie and Pal? Which we, Muir? (51) I want to believe this is a reference to Fullmetal Alchemist, but I have no supporting evidence for the case, just a suggestion that you go watch Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood or read the manga. (52) Another observation from a post I saw, but, what an incredible way to reframe a lack of success. "I missed the bus. Truly, wonderful news for my haters." It's a silly thing, but I bet if you tried, it would lighten the burden of a lot of everyday "failures" into a much more average sort of vibe. (53) Awful, as in awe-ful, as in filling one with awe. Incredible how THAT one twisted over the centuries, amirite? (54) I think this definitely confirms the part where both Pal and Cam were in some sort of polycule-y thing with Dulcinea. (No, I don't think Cam and Pal are in romance or sex with each other, but I do think that some relationships defy the simplicity of the labels we have access to.) (55) His conversation with Cam, earlier in Nona, that Nona heard on the tape. That Cam would rather carry his soul than live in a world that didn't contain him. They're such a mirror for Harrow and Gideon. (56) Does that mean she's beyond even a Resurrection? (57) I want to start singing that old, old song. Somewhere, beyond the sea, somewhere, waiting for me… It's a river, not a sea, but I must wonder if Muir ever smirked at the thought of it regarding Dulcie and Pal here. But, this recontextualizes a TON. One, Pal not telling Cam before the Paul-ification that he'd spoken to what he truly believed was Dulcie. Two, his saying "beyond the river" in that same final exchange. Three, everything we've ever been told about the River in the narrative... (58) If what ends well? What does "well" entain?

(59) Daniel 10:6, Douay-Rheims translation as Muir is so fond of it: "And his body was like the chrysolite, and his face as the appearance of lightning, and his eyes as a burning lamp: and his arms, and all downward even to the feet, like in appearance to glittering brass: and the voice of his word like the voice of a multitude." Daniel, speaking of having seen an angel. I got goosebumps when I realized. (60) Cute is insufficient to the moment, Dulcie. And you well know it. (61) Has anyone guessed at what game they're playing? It's not proper poker that I can tell, because you don't play that many cards down in it and they're not betting per se. Also, they play more cards than they're described being dealt or picking up. (62) Pal confirming his suspicions as we race to the end. (63) One assumes, her playing unfair up front and interpreting his first clarification as a question. (64) It was never just about her use of Babs as a puppet, adding his name to clarify to the readers of Nona that it wasn't Ianthe's body on the page, it was her somehow retrieved cav. It was always for this. She was always Naberius. Fuck.

[specialagentlokitty]

John x reader - do I make you nervous?

Part two:

You had just pulled up to the station when your phone started to ring, so you picked it up and stuck it on speaker as you started to look for something in your car.

“Detective Inspector (L/N) speaking.” You said.

“H.. hi. It’s Uhm.. it’s John. John Watson, you Uhm.. you gave me your number not long ago…”

You smiled a little and sat back down in your seat.

“Well hey Watson, didn’t take you long to call at all.”

“Well.. Uhm.. well I.. i was just thinking about what you said and uh.. maybe.. maybe if that offer was still available I could take you up on it?” He asked.

You hummed a little and nodded to yourself.

“You certainly can, you pick a time and I’ll tell you where I am.”

“O.. okay, yeah, I’ll let you know.”

He quickly hung up and you laughed to yourself, stuffing your phone into your pocket you grabbed the file you had been looking for and made your way into the station.

Walking through the walkways of desks, you made your way to your friends office and slipped in, closing the door behind you.

“Aren’t you suspended?”

“Yes, but I had this case that really needs worked so I need you to do it. Plus I’m suspended but I can still do my paperwork.”

“No, you’re being forced to still do your paperwork get it right.” Lestrade smirked.

He took the file form you and flicked through it.

“There isn’t much here.”

“Rest is in my office, am not stupid enough to walk around with a whole case file Greg, gimme a little credit.”

He laughed and followed you to your office and you handed him a second file to look through as you sat down.

You gathered some paper work and looked up at him.

“There really isn’t much here. I don’t know if I’m able to work on this.”

Lestrade sat in front of your desk and you looked at him.

“I know, okay? I know that. I know there isn’t much, but I can’t work on it while suspended they made that perfectly clear. I’m not asking for you to solve it Greg, I just need you to follow up on those leads is all.”

He furrowed his brows a little in confusion and looked at you.

“I’m asking as a friend, I need you to do this for me it might be my only chance to get them.”

“You think it’ll lead you to him?” He asked.

You shrugged a little, twirling your pen between your fingers before you gripped it tightly.

“I don’t know, helpfully yes. Because when I find that son of a bitch I’m going to make him wish he prayed to god every day.” You said lowly.

The pen snapped under the pressure you were putting in it, and you just looked at your ink covered hand.

“I’ll see what I can do, I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Thanks, I’ll be here.”

You watched him leave and sighed to yourself.

You didn’t want to bring Lestrade in on this, but you only had a short window to speak to those leads, and since you were being watched like a hawk by the higher ups while you were on your suspension you couldn’t do it.

They would take you off this case immediately if they couldn’t so much as a breeze of it, so everything was in your own time, when you had days off or when you finished work.

Getting up, you started making your way to wash your hands free of the ink.

“Lost a fight to a pen?” Anderson mocked.

“Keep mocking, I’ll break your nose again.” You snarled.

He raised his hands and backed away from you while you kicked the doors to the toilets open.

You washed as much ink of your hands as you could and started to make your way back to your office when you were stopped by Donovan.

“What?”

“I know you’re suspended but Lestrade isn’t in and I need to ask you something.”

Gesturing for her to follow you to your office, you kicked the door shut once she was in.

You weren’t a big fan of her either but you were still their superior officer so you had a duty to do.

“I just needed him to read through this and sign it, it needs to be filed immediately otherwise we could loose the whole case and she’ll walk free.”

You took the paper from her and looked through it.

“If I sign this you could loose the case either way you know that right?”

“Seriously?” She sighed.

“Did you really think they were gonna let a suspended detective inspector sign a court paper?”

“I mean I was hoping.”

You set the paper down on your desk and looked at the time, if you didn’t want to loose the whole case it had to be signed soon.

“There is a way we can do this. Do you have all the papers?”

“No, Anderson has them.”

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Get him and all the papers you have for this case and bring it all to the my office, there’s a loophole around this.”

She nodded and rushed away and you sat down, checking your phone you saw you had a message from John.

John: if you’re free now maybe we could go on that date?

You smirked a little and replied.

You: Sherlock driving you mad I take it. I’m at the station come by my office.

Setting your phone down you looked up at your door as it opened and closed again.

“What the hell do you want?” Anderson asked.

“I’m doing my Job you bitch you wanna loose your case and let your murderer walk free?”

“Well.. no..”

He set everything down on your desk and you quickly organised it all.

“My suspension papers haven’t actually been filed yet, they need you to sign one of them since it was you I punched in the face.”

“And you don’t want me to?”

You rolled your eyes.

“No. I know you’re going to. I know you have a meeting right now so you can sign them, I’m coming with you, if I can sign these papers in front of a high ranking officer before you sign those papers then the case can go ahead and go to court. But, I need you to give me permission to go into the room.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” He scoffed.

“Because we’ll loose everything if you don’t!” Donovan snapped.

You stood up and gathered the papers under your arm.

“I don’t like you, you don’t like me. But, I know you don’t want to loose this case, Lestrade is out and only mr or him can sign these, so, you need to bring me to that meet Anderson.”

He scowled and crossed his arms.

“No, we’ll just wait.”

“We don’t have time for that!” Donovan yelled.

“I’m not taking this freak to my meeting to get them suspended!”

“Oh fucking hell you moron I don’t want to not get suspended I’m trying to save your case because if you loose it you’re going to be pulled up, both of you written up and investigated for not doing your paperwork on time!” You snapped back.

He looked at you.

“Wait what?”

“They’re going to launch an investigation against both do you for misconduct if you let a case this huge fall. So, are we going to that meeting or what?”

“Anderson please, just take them to the damn meeting.” Donovan pleaded.

Anderson looked at you and finally he nodded his head and you quickly followed behind him into the office.

“Well this is shocking, are you not signing these papers? Did (L/N) intimidate you not to?” The man asked.

“No, I intimidated him to bring me so I could sign these papers in front of you, while I’m still active in my role before you suspend me.”

You took the pen from the table and quickly scribbled on a few bits of paper, handing it over to Donovan who ran off with it.

“Lestrade is out, and without that signature a very dangerous woman was going to walk free.”

The man nodded his head and you turned to Anderson, glaring at him a little.

“Next time don’t take the piss with it if you want to keep your cases.”

“Oh shut up.”

You stuck your middle finger up at him and walked out of the office and made your way back to your office where Lestrade was waiting.

You nodded and you both walked in.

“I couldn’t get much, but this is what I could get.”

“Thanks, anything’s a help.”

You stuffed the file into your bag and started to clean up the mess you had made on your desk while quickly looking at all the papers.

“Is there anything else I can help with?”

You shook your head and tossed your bag over your shoulder and you both walked out of your office while you locked it.

John was walking over and you waved him over and turned to your friend.

“I signed some papers on your behalf, since I’m suspend for two weeks you’re going to have to take point on it because I can’t.”

“On my behalf?”

“Ask the incompetent moron who didn’t file his papers straight away.”

You turned to John and offered him a small.

“You’re being suspended?” He asked.

“I mean it’s what happens when you punch people in the face.” You shrugged.

He sighed and shook his head at you.

“That why you said to call you anytime for a date?” He asked.

“Yeah, and you’re cute, I’d drop work to go on a date with you.”

John looked away and you smirked, placing your hand on his shoulder you led him to your car and tossed your bag into the back while he got into the passenger seat.

You stood by the divers side, hands on the top of the car as you leaned down to look at him.

“What kinda dates do you usually go on Watson?”

“Uhm.. movies.. drinks… dinner…”

You nodded your head.

“You ever been to a car meet before?”

“Uhm.. no?”

You nodded and jumped into the car, slamming the door shut you grabbed your phone and put in a destination.

“Well there’s a first time for everything, there’s one going on right now just outside the city.”

“Aren’t car meets illegal?”

You started to drive and flicked your eyes to him before you turned back to the road.

“No, why would the be?”

“I thought it was all illegally modified cars, speeding and things like that.” He said.

You chuckled, shaking your head.

“No, there are ones like this but this is a legal car meet, it’s just people showing off their fancy cars really, some music and stuff like that.”

John looked at you, looking at the way you rested your arm on the open window as you held on to the steering wheel with one hand.

“Have you been to an illegal car meet?”

“Do you think I have?”

“No.”

“You’d be very wrong, I have been to a whole bunch of them. I’m actually going to one soon if you wanted to see the real thrill of car and what they can do.”

You grinned at him and went back to watching the road.

“Maybe we can just see how this goes.” He laughed nervously.

You laughed and for the journey there you fell into a light conversation with John, asking him questions about himself since you wanted to know him more.

You pulled up into a massive field that was filled with cars, and turned to John.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

You both got out and you started to walk around, making sure to keep John next to you so he wouldn’t get lost anywhere.

You showed him a few cars and explained to him what was going on and why there were showing them off.

“So it’s just a bunch of people who like cars looking at cars?” He asked.

You laughed.

“Yeah, pretty much, sometimes they swap cars or buy other cars, some people come to sell cars. It’s kinda like collecting merch but for car people.”

“Do you buy cars here?”

“Yeah I’ve got one from here, currently waiting for a new engine though.”

“You fix it yourself?”

“Yeah, as you can imagine I happen to get suspended a lot, so in order to pass time and make some money I fix up people cars and some old ones. Actually passed university after studying mechanics.”

John nodded his head and looked at you, watching as you watched a few people messing around with one of the cars which wouldn’t start.

“So you come here looking for cars to fix?”

You shrugged a little bit.

“Sometimes, but I also get the invites because most car meets tend to get reported to the police, I’m here to diffuse those situations and I’m the on-site mechanic for them as sometimes they can be waiting hours.”

John nodded his head and you both walked back to the car and you went to the boot so he followed you.

Opening it, you pulled out a high-vis jacket and handed it over to him, and he looked at you confused.

“Amma show you hot to fix an engine.” You grinned.

“Sounds interesting.” He laughed.

He put the jacket on and waited for you to put yours on, grab a tool box and followed you to the broken car so you could show him what you were doing.

He had to admit, it was different to usual dates, but he enjoyed it, it was so different from his everyday life, it was interesting to learn you had a wide set of skills that apparently no one knew about.

It was a quick fix and you took everything back, wiping the oil from your hands you tossed the jacket into the boot and he did the same.

“See, car meets aren’t so bad, friendly people.”

“It’s actually pretty cool.” He smiled.

“You wanna stay, or do you wanna go?”

“Don’t you have to stay?”

You shocked your head and pointed to another car, telling him they were here for the same reason you were.

He looked at you, looking around at all the expensive looking cars, then turned back to you.

“I’m actually kind of hungry.”

“Let’s go then, you pick the place, I’ll drive.”

You jumped into the car and he followed you, looking for a nearby place that the pair of you could grab food from and he finally found one.

“Can I ask you something?” John asked.

“Yeah, whatever you wanna know just ask.”

“Why do you and Anderson hate each other so much? Does it bother you that you’ve been suspended?”

You sighed and looked at John.

“It’s a long story, but to keep it short, Anderson and I knew each other growing up, he thinks I’m just like my father, and I shouldn’t work somewhere like the police force.”

John nodded his head and didn’t push the topic any further.

You had a nice dinner and you drove him back to his flat, getting out of the car you leant against it, arms crossed over your chest.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

You nodded your head.

“Could we… perhaps go on another date.”

You smiled and pushed yourself from the car, walking over you leant forward and kissed his cheek lightly before you pulled away.

“Text a time and a day Watson, I’ll be there.”

John smiled and watched as you left before he made his way up to the flat to get ready to relax for the rest of the evening.

The date wasn’t what he thought it was going to be like, he was expecting more adrenaline, more rush, he wondered if you kept it calm and simple for him, so it didn’t overwhelm him.

He sat on his bed, laptop on his lap, and he decided to do some research on date ideas he thought you would really like, but wouldn’t be quite as scary for him but still fun and different

[whisker-biscuit]

SlyFox Day 5: Lost

Peril, kidnapping

(Part 1)

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

“You know I would only call you under the direst of circumstances.”

The familiar nasally voice on Carmelita’s personal cellphone was a shock to her system. She stiffened where she was sitting at an outside café and immediately looked all around her for any sign of a familiar gray and blue shadow that might be watching her.

“Bentley, how the hell did you get this number?” She hissed when nothing came up, phone practically pressed against her mouth.

“Please, Inspector, let’s not act like that’s a hard thing for me to do.” The brains of the Cooper Gang said it as a statement of fact instead of a brag, and he was probably the only person in the world who could do so sincerely. “But I promise I didn’t invade your privacy without very good reason. I need your help.”

The fox would have laughed out loud if she wasn’t too busy getting enraged. “And why on earth should I help you?”

“Sly’s gone missing.”

Those words made the world stop. Carmelita froze, staring at her phone in disbelief.

“…What?”

“He’s missing, and I need your help to find him.”

Her mind struggled to make sense of what the turtle was saying. Sly Cooper, missing? He didn’t go missing – he intentionally disappeared right when she was closing in on him, and then he conveniently reappeared just when she was starting to write his trail off as cold.

Cooper didn’t go missing, and he most certainly didn’t go missing from his gang. It was such an impossible scenario that her mouth ran on autopilot with the first thing that popped into her head.

“I’m off duty today.”

There was a long, awkward pause on the other end of the line. The inspector wanted to kick herself.

“…I didn’t actually know that,” Bentley admitted after another few seconds, sounding as surprised as she felt over there being knowledge he didn’t have. “But the fact remains that you’re still our best chance at getting him back.”

She frowned, confused. “You do realize I’d find him just to arrest him, right? Why aren’t you or Murray doing it?”

“We’re not exactly…in the vicinity right now,” he said, stiff and careful, making every detective instinct in her perk up. “He was visiting a rather popular club a few blocks from where you are right now, based on a…a suggestion from who he thought was a reliable, uh, friend, before I could verify a few things.”

Carmelita didn’t ask him how he knew where she was at this very moment but had somehow missed that she wasn’t on the clock. She turned Bentley’s “innocent” explanation over in her mind; Cooper had been scoping out a potential new mark, based on information given by an outside contact, and that contact had most likely betrayed them. She leaned back in her seat and stared at the fancy awning over the café’s front.

“So…Cooper rushed into something without thinking, and you two are too far away to save his tail, so you need my help?” She deduced.

“Yes!” The relief in the turtle’s voice was striking. “Yes, that’s exactly it. I know you’re both close enough and capable enough to pull it off as soon as possible, which is why I’m calling you first.”

“Uh-huh. What happens if I say no and tell you to leave me out of it?”

“Time is of the essence, here, Inspector. Please, I’m actually begging you!” That relief was quickly turning into panic as he seemed to realize she might actually refuse. She wondered what was so scary that he preferred to let his best friend get arrested over whatever mess they’d stumbled into.

“I’m going to need a little more than that if I’m going to risk my job for a criminal, you know,” she pressed. “Why are you so worried? What has Cooper gotten himself into?”

For almost an entire minute, there was no answer, and Carmelita was just about to hang up when Bentley spoke again, very quietly and very, very scared.

“We were investigating a potential trafficking ring. We were told by our contact that club was a front, and Sly said he wanted to check it out last night. I haven’t heard from him in nearly twelve hours, Carmelita.”

Oh, fuck.

The fox stood up abruptly. “Tell me the address right now.”

She was already sprinting before the words had finished leaving Bentley’s mouth.

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

Carmelita was no stranger to skirting the line when it came to entering places that she wasn’t technically allowed in. It was something she’d learned not to split hairs over through the years of chasing a certain thief just about everywhere she possibly could. Warrants were great, of course, but she had long-stopped herself from feeling guilty over not having one when too many people with money and power stalled the process just long enough to sweep away any hint of wrong-doing before she could pin them down.

It was this carefully-practiced logic she firmly held onto when she entered the club and then crept into the backrooms. She wasn’t doing it as an officer, per se, but as a civilian. A nosy civilian who’d just heard a rumor about someone she knew having last been seen here and then not at all.

A perfectly normal thing for a civilian to do, surely.

The fox was on high alert the moment she crossed the threshold into the “employees only” section of the building, worried about getting caught for a lot more reasons than a reprimand by Barkley about it later. She noted, with only a little surprise, that there were no cameras anywhere – not back here nor in the club proper. An oddity in the modern age, but if Bentley’s information had been true, then it made a lot of sense that a place like this wouldn’t want even the chance of digital recordings of their wrongdoing.

Maybe it was because the place wasn’t very busy when she’d shown up, but she encountered no one as she moved down the long hallways and peeked into rooms. It made her uneasy, and it also made her wonder whether the supposed contact that had betrayed the Cooper Gang was expecting someone to come looking for their missing leader. She could be walking right into a trap.

The inspector shook her head to clear her doubts. Even if it was a trap, she was just going to have to risk it to save Cooper.

To arrest Cooper.

Another turn or two, and she came across a door that was locked – the very first of its kind. It was also an old door, though, which made it very easy to open with a few strong shoves. Carmelita looked back and forth to make sure no one had been alerted by the noise, then poked her head through the doorway.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

There was Sly Cooper, in crumpled plainclothes no doubt from his attempted infiltration last night. He was sitting with his back against the far wall, and the room was so dark she almost didn’t see his hands in his lap. His handcuffed, trembling hands that were trying and failing to pick the lock with clumsy fingers.

The clumsiness was the second thing to tell her that something was very, very wrong. The first was that he hadn’t seemed to realize she had even opened the door and was now standing dumbfounded in front of him.

Cooper was a lot of things, but unobservant was not one of them.

Carmelita bit her lip and threw a cautious look over her shoulder, where the hallway remained empty. Her attention was drawn back to the raccoon when his hold on his lockpick slipped and he let out a loud, frustrated noise. That third oddity – the fact that he had made a noise at all when she had seen him tank shock pistol shots with nothing more than a hiss – was finally enough to push her towards a decision.

“Cooper,” she said, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind her.

He visibly startled – another bad sign – and looked up at her with his mouth twisted into a snarl and the pupils of his eyes blown impossibly wide even in the dark. There was no recognition on his face at all.

“B’ck’ff,” he slurred, drawing his legs up to his chest in a threat to kick. The movement was just as uncoordinated as his lockpicking.

Things clicked into place with revolting clarity. Carmelita held her hands up in a non-threatening gesture as her mind ran through all the things he might have been drugged with. She tried not to be sick over the situation she’d found herself in. Found him in.

“Ringtail, it’s me. It’s Inspector – it’s Carmelita.” She pronounced each word as clearly as she could. “I’m here to rescue you.”

The thief squinted at her, and it took an alarmingly long time for realization to set in. His unfocused eyes widened as he struggled to get his feet under him.

“C’rml’ta, you c’n’t…be h’re. ‘S n’t – n’t safe.” He said it as though she were the one tied up and strung-out instead of him. “G’tta…g’t out. G’tta go.”

Cooper was trying and failing to stand up as he spoke, and Carmelita hurried forward to catch him before he could crash to the hard floor. She propped him up against her, looping his bound arms around her neck, but all he did was sag towards the ground again. He was almost completely dead-weight in her hold.

“Come on, Cooper,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “We are getting out of here, together, but you have to work with me.”

“Tryin’…” His head lolled onto her shoulder, and she could see him trying to lift his legs instead of letting them drag. “’M tryin’…”

The fox closed her eyes and willed herself to have more patience over something that wasn’t his fault. “I know, Ringtail. I know you are.”

Step by slow, agonizing step, they made their way out of the room, out the back door, and towards safety and freedom.

[mariana-oconnor]

Black Peter pt 1

Haven't heard of this one either. Let's hope that's down to the fact it's a later story and not because it isn't popular anymore because of *looks at title* reasons.

I have never known my friend to be in better form, both mental and physical, than in the year '95.

Watson does keep waxing poetic about the year 1895. Must have been an epic year.

Holmes, however, like all great artists, lived for his art's sake, and, save in the case of the Duke of Holdernesse, I have seldom known him claim any large reward for his inestimable services.

Do we know the Duke of Holdernesse? I don't remember his name. How rude was he to Holmes that Holmes took his money? I feel like that must be arsehole tax.

So unworldly was he—or so capricious—that he frequently refused his help to the powerful and wealthy where the problem made no appeal to his sympathies...

More evidence for the Sherlock Holmes hates the rich theory. It's not that he's unworldly or capricious, Watson, it's that usually they're the bad guys (please see King of Bohemia). Not to put modern biases on a historical fictional character or anything.

down to his arrest of Wilson, the notorious canary-trainer

What did he train the canaries to do?

Was it, like, an entire hoard of pickpocketing birds?

Did they murder people for him? What?

Google tells me it might have been a euphemism for brothel-keeper. Or a singing teacher. So... honestly that story could go any number of ways. I think I'll stick to actual canaries, though. Probably in Canary Wharf.

During the first week of July my friend had been absent so often and so long from our lodgings that I knew he had something on hand. The fact that several rough-looking men called during that time and inquired for Captain Basil...

Watson pining at home while Holmes is out with rough-looking men and having them call him Captain...

...made me understand that Holmes was working somewhere under one of the numerous disguises and names with which he concealed his own formidable identity.

Honestly, I feel like this is character development. Before Watson would have just been 'Holmes is away' and 'Who is Captain Basil?', two entirely separate lines of thought. Now he has connected the dots. Proud of you, buddy!

...he strode into the room, his hat upon his head and a huge barbed-headed spear tucked like an umbrella under his arm.

“If you could have looked into Allardyce's back shop you would have seen a dead pig swung from a hook in the ceiling, and a gentleman in his shirt-sleeves furiously stabbing at it with this weapon. I was that energetic person, and I have satisfied myself that by no exertion of my strength can I transfix the pig with a single blow."

Everyone needs a hobby.

I recognised him at once as Stanley Hopkins, a young police inspector for whose future Holmes had high hopes...

Oh hai, Hopkins!

"However, my friend Dr. Watson knows nothing of this matter, and I should be none the worse for hearing the sequence of events once more."

For the sake of Watson and us, the invisible audience, please to be info-dumping exposition policeman!

"In 1883 he commanded the steam sealer Sea Unicorn, of Dundee."

"He has been known to drive his wife and his daughter out of doors in the middle of the night, and flog them through the park until the whole village outside the gates was aroused by their screams."

Can't say I'm entirely sorry Captain Carey is dead. In fact, maybe just chalk this up as self-inflicted and leave it at that. Whoever did it probably had a good reason.

However, the nickname doesn't seem to really be racist, so that's better than it could have been. Swarthy, as far as I'm aware, refers to tanned/weather beaten skin usually, which makes sense for a longtime sailor.

"He had built himself a wooden outhouse—he always called it ‘the cabin’—a few hundred yards from his house, and it was here that he slept every night. It was a little, single-roomed hut, sixteen feet by ten."

The original man cave?

The description of him is not crying out the sort of man who would keep tobacco on hand just in case his friends wanted some. It's not crying out the sort of man who has friends, for a start.

“Exactly, Mr. Holmes. I appreciated that point, and I conjectured that it was dropped by the murderer in his hurried flight. It lay near the door.”

Hopkins really is the smartest of the police officers we've met. And I still haven't noticed Watson comparing him to an animal.

So we have a terrible man killed by a harpoon in his man cave and no one noticed for ages because no one wanted to talk to him. I'm kind of hoping that all the women were in on it and they just... harpooned him together.

[twistedtummies2]

Top 5 Portrayals of Irene Adler

The past three lists I discussed some of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson’s most notable allies: Mrs. Hudson, Inspector Lestrade, and Sherlock’s brother, Mycroft. However, no detective and his sidekick would be able to function without cases to solve…without villains to conquer. While Professor Moriarty is the most famous and recurring Holmes antagonist, Holmes solved many, MANY other cases, and faced many other rogues, aside from the Napoleon of Crime. I think it’s time to give some of the more noteworthy criminals Holmes went after their fair due. Just to warn you, these lists will be simple, quick Top 5s rather than Top 10s, and once again, the descriptions will be brief. This is typically for one of three reasons: a.) there just aren’t that many versions of the character out there to begin with, b.) all the versions after a certain point sort of gel together in terms of my personal preference, or c.) a bit of both. With that said, let’s start with arguably Holmes’ second greatest adversary: Irene Adler, the Mistress of Disguise. In the original story “A Scandal in Bohemia,” Adler is actually one of the few criminals to escape and thoroughly outwit Sherlock Holmes. Notably, she is the only woman to outsmart the Master Detective, which is one of the reasons Holmes refers to her as “The Woman”: a sign that she is, in his eyes, the finest of her gender. It’s heavily implied in the original stories that Holmes is in love with Irene, or, at the very least, she is the first lady he has come truly close to loving. He loves Irene not so much in a sensual or physical way, but more for her incredible wit, daring, and mystique. While Adler is an antagonist in the story, on that note, she’s not by any means the worst of Holmes’ opponents. In short, Adler is the original Femme Fatale: the alluring, morally ambiguous, dangerous female who both entrances and hinders her hero. The Catwoman to Sherlock Holmes’ Batman, if you will. Various adaptations and reimaginings since have toyed with this idea, and especially latched onto the romantic overtones, ever since. There are lots of versions of Irene Adler; she’s one of those characters who falls into Point B, as I mentioned earlier: after a certain point, a lot of them just sort of gel together for me. However, picking my Top 5 was fairly easy; it’s just harder to do any number beyond that. With that said, let’s waste no more time: The Woman is waiting. Here are My Top 5 Portrayals of Irene Adler!

5. Anne Baxter, from Masks of Death.

In this made-for-TV movie, Peter Cushing and John Mills play an aging Holmes and Watson on their final case before retirement. Anne Baxter appears as an equally “advanced” Irene Adler, in a relatively small but important role in the story. It’s primarily the uniqueness of this Adler that gets her in my top five: Baxter was a great choice in casting, her interactions with Cushing as Holmes are fantastic, and the idea of these old adversaries re-encountering one another in their twilight years is an interesting one indeed.

4. Gayle Hunnicutt, from the Granada Series.

It’s largely due to Hunnicutt’s “scene partner” as Holmes - the unmatchable Jeremy Brett - that nails her placement on the countdown. Granada’s adaptation of “A Scandal in Bohemia” was actually the very first episode of the Brett series, and it serves as an excellent first impression for the show as a whole, with Hunnicutt playing a very book-accurate take on the character. (Albeit with a different pronunciation of the name from the usual, with an accent at the end of “Irene,” so that it is pronounced “Ee-Rain-uh” instead of “Eye-Reen”...unusual.) While Hunnicutt’s calculating, cunning Adler is phenomenal, I personally feel other versions that go “beyond the books” make her even more interesting.

3. Rachel McAdams, from the Guy Ritchie Films.

Conan Doyle fans seem polarized about McAdams’ take on Irene Adler. For me, I personally think she’s an excellent, albeit somewhat different, interpretation of the character. This version heavily ups the romantic side of her relationship with Holmes, and really plays up the moral ambiguity, as she helps Sherlock out almost as often as she gets him in trouble. Using the earlier analogy, she’s at her most “Catwoman-esque” here. It’s eventually revealed - SPOILER ALERT - that Irene is working for Moriarty, although it’s not altogether clear why. She is seemingly killed off early in the second movie, when Moriarty feels she has become a liability. Sad.

2. The Version from Moriarty the Patriot.

This is a rather weird one, to be honest. It’s hard to talk about this version of the character without giving away some MAJOR spoilers for the series as a whole, but I will do my best. Irene first appears in an adaptation of “A Scandal in Bohemia,” entitled “A Scandal in the British Empire” (which borrows some minor influence from “The Bruce Partington Plans”). Weirdly enough, she’s actually EXTREMELY book-accurate here, and the way Holmes’ relationship with her is showcased is equally so: the two aren’t depicted as being romantically involved so much as being, I suppose, “flirtatious best friends.” This is fitting, since the strong romantic overtones in THIS series go between Holmes and Moriarty…but that’s another story. Speaking of, after this initial story arc, Irene’s character goes into some…UNEXPECTED territory, but it does nothing to make her character any less interesting.

1. Lara Pulver, from Sherlock.

Once again, much like the Guy Ritchie version, Pulver’s incarnation heavily emphasizes the romantic tension between Adler and Holmes. Also like the Ritchie version, this take on Adler ends up embroiled with Moriarty, although things end rather differently in this interpretation. This Adler, I felt, hit a good balance between a proper villainess - and a very fine one, at that, able to prove a solid match for Holmes - and the more sympathetic love interest at the same time. 

[supermaks]

I wanna hear all of ur thoughts on 3344!!! Please tell us everything!!!! my only addition is that that copse crash changed the trajectory of their lives immediately like they could be fighting for p15 and would be all up in each others business. there is a special kind of distrust and contempt and anger for the other that no one else recives bc they reserve it all for each other and this is why they’re best f1 rivalry of all time 😋 sorry alain

omfg yes lets go a lil crazy🌷🌷🌷🌷

My 4433/441 thoughts are always all over the place like I truly havent been able to pin them down since l started watching f1 because these 2 are both like super weird in very different ways and they have zero bridges u can cross between them except for this unreal fucking level of on sight hating that makes a rivalry soooo good u feel it in ur tummy

When I tell u in Austria the moment I heard Lewis impeded Max I knew the baddie was gonna unleash the wrath of an old testament god upon this incredibly inconsequential fl0p vehicle number 44 like. Sorry to the haters and losers but its very funny to ME 😭😭 Inspector Hamilton didnt even make much noise about this which is even funnier because either he knows he'll catch a stray for impeding first or he just cannot handle Max and his Raytheon hamilton sensors anymore like he's tired and his own tp is telling him to shut up like leave him alone. ((I doubt its the last we'll hear of it tho))

And yes 2021 like u said prolly changed the trajectory of their lives forever not just copse but like monza, brazil, Jeddah. Whats so fascinating about Max and Lewis is that for such enormously talented drivers they simply cannot let each other race normal. They leave each other more space and will still fumble because they want to pass so bad. As u put it, its distrust, but its also just racing. Its the purest form of racing there is lmfao these are both karting prodigies and they still revert back to that when they race each other. I said this once they're like 2 maddies from euphoria in 1 show. But this whole dynamic of uneasiness between them started way before 2021 tbh.

Even when Max was a teenager wid a cap and a dream and the rawest dawg inside that literally bit people and Lewis was settling back into the record books wid a glass of wine and an established, tamed dawg, he still made a point not to rate Max ever. Max was taboo. Didnt even call him by name sometimes like to his face literally called him 'guy' which is such an Hamilton ass old school way of acknowledging an Opp like look at this

F1 drivers are so insane. Anyway I think Max still feels some type of way about all that. A job will have u 19 years old getting bullied by a 33 year old that refuses to say ur name. Max pissed everybody off those days. He just wanted to do the lil debrief and the old heads truly did not give a fuck they were so mean to him. Lewis went thru a divorce too so this was all wrong person wrong place wrong time wrong car wrong team wrong wrong wrong. All wrong.

They were doomed from the start like they were set on a collision course since Max was born that was as inevitable as he is. And the noise around them has always been too loud. But they do try which I find very charming and kind of sad. Like one thing about Max and Lewis they're gonna have a lil giggle together about something dumb and that hasn’t changed

((I am convinced whatvr lewis showed him on his phone here was like deeply illegal))

((this presser is soooo like at some point Lewis leans over and whispers that theres a lot of girls there for the weekend and Max is like umm and Lewis is like oh u have a girlfriend right ew 🙄))

🫠🌷this was so cute pls

They share sm history together in the one thing that matters the most to both of them which is racing. Like the way Abu Dhabi happened bro, all that led to it, the amount of new eyeballs on the sport just thru sheer force of narrative and hubris. They built that together. Nobody else cud have done it. Like they share thirty five 1-2s in F1. 35 times one of them was first and the other was second. I think 3 more times on the podium and they break a record for most podiums shared oat. Thats not unimportant it’s not meaningless especially not to these 2 in particular. They’re special. They’re both so special and mercurial and they save the worst parts of themselves. the best part of themselves. to each other . Everybody else takes scraps. The spray aligns

Yeah. Like yk. the spray aligns