but still acting like james bond

drugsbust  asked:

main 2 things that have been bugging me about the john's dream tfp theory: so how does john know about redbeard? and if eurus shot him wouldn't that imply that both she and the events of t6t and tld actually happened? cause i'm an emp supporter lol, and i can't see any of s4 being "real" (the glowing skull painting, everyone being ooc, water imagery, etc) and if we were suddenly to enter john's mind, then that means the events leading up to it would have to have actually happened.

1. Thank you so much for your incredible meta! I love this fandom like crazy. 2. According to the theory that TFP is John’s near-the-death dream… How can we explain this - when Sherlock found out that “Eurus killed Viktor” we hear her words about deep water and see the shots of TGG pool and (!) Reichenbach fall from TAB? Why this piece of Sherlock’s MP in John’s dream? I stuck on this…

LOVE theory of TFP being in John’s mind after he is shot! So is it Eurus that still kills him? I’ve read metas where it explains Eurus and Sherlock are the same person, so then Eurus doesn’t really exist..? But she still shoots John? Or is this in John’s min while we are still in Sherlocks MP on the HLV plane? Kind of MP inception or something? :)

so I thought I would compile these 3 asks here cause they’re all basically asking the same thing. <3

So, here’s where I’m at right now: to me a ‘Garridebs’ minisode would be the most likely way of hiding a secret ‘4th episode.’

1) It doesn’t have to be long, it could take place during the suspicious “missing 10 minutes” from John’s therapy appointment as I say here, like a Series 4 version of Many Happy Returns. 

2) The fact that I think the ending of The Lying Detective is an allusion to the James Bond ‘red’ title screen (see here) gives us a clue that this is going into John’s point of view, because of his watching Bond films. To me this also explains Moriarty’s weird “red alert/klingons/cowboys/Darth Vader” line (see here)- they’re all allusions to things John would have watched on T.V.

3) The way Mycroft is acting apparently out of character to me is explained away by this being from John’s PoV- John doesn’t think Mycroft is impressive at all, see here

 I still do like/ have written this being a dream from Sherlock’s PoV, but I’m warming to John’s version of TAB much more now because it parallels how Sherlock ended up creating TAB:

  • Sherlock is faced with a mystery: Moriarty’s ‘miss me’ message. Overwhelmed by the drugs he is taking, he loses consciousness and retreats into his mind, and invents TAB- his mind seemingly focused on solving that mystery. Except, rather than this really solving the Moriarty thing, the whole thing is dependent on him and John being together“There’s always two of us.”
  • John is faced with a mystery: Sherlock has a secret sister. He gets shot, loses consciousness from the pain and retreats into his mind, and invents TFP- his mind seemingly focused on solving that mystery. Except, rather than solving the Eurus thing (too many loose ends), the whole thing ends with John and Sherlock back in 221B.

In my opinion, this is why we are faced with a literal ‘dangling Garridebs’ scene in TFP (I can’t believe I actually typed that haha @waitedforgarridebs): it’s a clue that the real Garridebs moment going on behind the scenes is left ‘dangling’, unresolved. John is stuck in limbo, waiting for Sherlock to save him.

And his mind fixes on the last thing he was told: that Sherlock has a secret sister. He is left reeling, trying to come up with explanations. This explains the major loose thread at the beginning of TFP: we gloss past and ignore the “mutual friend” who gave Eurus Faith’s note because John still doesn’t know this. 

So, what about Redbeard? I still think John doesn’t know who/what Redbeard exactly is. All he has to go on is Sherlock’s reaction to Magnussen saying “Redbeard” in HLV. So, what does he do? I’m going to quote @marcespot here:

I think because clever–oh so clever– John, figures out what many of us have been speculating. That Sherlock just cannot be this traumatized over a dog, it is painful, yes, but a grown man still not over the loss of a dog? He saw the look on Sherlock’s face when Magnussen brought it up. It can’t be a dog. It just can’t, and John is always right. Remember John was very invested in Henry’s trauma in THoB, tellling Dr. Mortimer: “because I have another friend who might be having the same problem.” Henry had replaced the memory of a murderous man for that of a dog because he couldn’t cope. John made his deductions. Remember John announcing in TLD “I’m gonna make a deduction”. He deduced Mycroft must’ve had made up a lie to protect Sherlock from some horrible truth… why not the death of Sherlock’s only special childhood friend. Note how John equates himself with Victor because the whole point is that he thinks that’s the reason why Sherlock grew up under that imposed ‘conceal don’t feel’ lifestyle, which had to be born out of a trauma because John knows Sherlock, and how emotional, friendly and in need for a companion he is. He literally told Sherlock he needs to get himself a romantic partner! Some great loss must’ve happened for Sherlock to develop any kind of issue with interpersonal relationships, and ever choosing to put on the sociopath façade. (x)

And here’s the thing: this could both mean that John has got very close to the truth (that Redbeard is Sherlock’s past “great loss” or even love)… but to me it also explains why the Holmes family background seemed so weird and contradictory in TFP. We know that behind their facades, Mycroft and Sherlock are “ordinary”, we even have TEH show us how very ordinary Sherlock’s “lovely Mum and Dad” are.

So, why the change to this odd big Holmes mansion cliché? (x) Because John the writer, with his imagination and his adoration for Sherlock, is left reeling from the Eurus reveal. He’s trying to explain it, and to do so he simply has to go back to Sherlock’s childhood. And John is a Romantic so of course Sherlock would have this epic childhood backstory, of course John would imagine him as little Sherlock the Pirate off on adventures, after hearing Mycroft’s “Initially he wanted to be a pirate” quip. And the fact that Mycroft’s description of “the ancestral home” (there was always honey for tea) is an ALLUSION TO A POEM BY RUPERT BROOKE… just makes me think of the poet John, writing unspoken things on his laptop. Poetry or truth, John? He makes Sherlock into a Gothic Hero, and gives him a grand ancestral home, because to John Sherlock is so extraordinary, so everything around him would be, too.

Fathers and daughters

The TARDIS materialized into a restaurant on a distant planet. Annie was on summer break from school so her father decided to take her on a trip to his favorite planets and show her the sights. Normally when they traveled together they were working. They were always fighting some kind of alien villain or stopping the end of the world. But For this trip, the doctor wanted it to be all fun and bonding with his daughter. The tardis doors opened with a loud creek. The doctor excitedly exits the tardis. “Here we are, my song bird!” The doctor exclaimed. “The Pink asteroid! The hippest place in all of the Gellux galaxy.”
“And you would know what’s hip how?” She teased.
“Because I’m a cool dad.” The doctor responded. “I’m at the James Bond level cool. I even got the fancy hair and a bow tie.” He wooshed his fingers through his hair trying to act like those “cool types” greasers.
Annie laughed loudly. “Okay dad. Whatever you say.” She spoke still giggling. The doctor hugged his daughter.

Then the two got a table right next to the stage. there was a house band that played every night at the restaurant. They played a variety of different types of music. Which made Annie smile immediately. Annie had an ear for music. She loved to sing and play piano.
“Dad, you really didn’t have to do all this for me. Mom already spoiled me enough for the both of you on my actual birthday.”
“Nonesense! What kind of father would I be if I didn’t treat you to a nice dinner to celebrate your big day? You only turn 16 once. you can pick whatever you want on the menu and then we can travel to any place and time you like.“ He smiled at her. “Happy birthday, kiddo.” then he began to read the menu. Annie looked around, amazed at how beautiful the place was. They had sculptures of the Greek god apollo as a mural on the wall. There was pillars at the door and the whole place had such a peaceful feel. She kept bopping her head to the talented musicians beautiful tones. Then suddenly she spotted a familiar face. She turned to her dad and seemed confused. “Um…dad? isn’t that Amy pond over there?” She questioned as she pointed over to izzy. Her father looked up from his menu. “Amy? No it can’t be Amy she is such in the 50s.” He replied. “Plus this place didn’t exist when I knew her.” He thought for a moment and then grinned. “It must be izzy!” He said excitedly. He stood up and called out to izzy, he waved to her from there table.

Originally posted by hermajestydakotaj

                                        CHILDHOOD HEADCANON 

jimmy was raised christian by two loving parents. it wasn’t a strict up - bringing, nor was it shut off & void of ( for the time period ) modern things. his parents were very loving parents — they always took good care of their only son. gregory ( jimmy’s father ) was a hard working man, always wanting to provide for his family. however, both of jimmy’s parents were working parents. his mother ( kimberley ) was a secretary & gregory was a salesman. they weren’t a particularly rich family, but by the same token they weren’t at all poor. james remembers his childhood very fondly. being an only child, he never really dealt with siblings or sibling - like bonds. yet still, he didn’t feel spoiled or act that way, he was always grateful for what he was given. always doing chores about the house, helping where he could. most of his childhood friends came from the church & attending sunday school. his parents ( & the other parents ) would allow the kids to go & play in the park nearest the church. 

his favourite place to be was the church, because it was like a castle to him; high ceilings, the many glossy pews & floors, the almost regal way the priest would hold himself. so every sunday was james’ favourite day. he’d dress in his best possible clothes, comb his hair, & practically SKIP to the church, holding his parents’ hands. in fact, the parents were kind enough to allow the children to sit together, but they didn’t mess about. their church had very polite children. because they knew time to be playful & energetic would come after the service. they’d all exit the church building in an orderly manner, their parents following & watching on. at most it took them a few seconds to sprint to the park. that would be the time they embarked on the all - important game of hide & seek, in which james was more than happy to play the seeker. 

BTS reaction when you tell you’re ready for your first time?

Okay sorry I haven’t done this in long time again, but I hope I still can catch on.

Seokjin : “finally, but what’s now?” *a bit too shy to do some moves on her*

Yoongi : *smiles, but then his smile turns into grin*

Hoseok : *puts on a suit for his girl/boy* I was waiting for this moment for so long *acts all cool. notice. he is into roleplaying and feels like he is james bond*

Namjoon : *as soon as his girl/boy says she/he is ready he goes and takes a shower, getting ready for the best night even if his lover says that it’s okay to do that tomorrow, he still rushes out and insists that it has to be today*


Taehyung : *slides closer* it’s about time

Jungkook : *can’t hold his feels*

Let’s talk about Metal Gear Solid

If you haven’t heard, I’m finally playing these games

I already knew a lot about this series thanks to reviews, retrospectives, parodies, analyses, memes, and gifs of Ocelot twirling his stupid fucking gun. But I hadn’t played any of these games for longer than an hour. Metal Gear Solid 1 in particular felt like a game I knew everything about before even touching it. I mainly just played it instead of watching the cutscenes on YouTube as a refresher and skipping to its sequels because, hey, I already own it

But I realize now that all of that analysis I’ve seen is from people who’ve been playing Metal Gear games a long time. People who’ve gotten used to some of the games’ weird design choices and who overlook some of the touches I really appreciated. So I’m gonna talk about that stuff, rather than being the millionth person to say it’s cool that Psycho Mantis reads your memory card

People enjoyed my Broken Age review way back when, and I feel like I should do more writing like that. So that’s why I’m here to tell you all about this old-ass game everyone’s already played

Keep reading


I’m tired of these people arguing against racebending with “make your own”, especially when they portray it like we’re just sitting there waiting for crumbs with our hand out.  That pisses me off.   Especially since you have to ignore reality in favor of this “bootstraps” myth that says that our lack of representation comes from our own failings. Like everything just happened to be white and changing it now would just be pandering, so lets just “make our own”. 

If every recent MCU film is like 90% white (even when it shouldn’t be), how does it make sense to expect us to fix that by “making our own”?  How does that solve the immediate problem? 

Making Iris West black made a show better, it isn’t “false representation”, its fixing a problem (having everything be all white is boring, artificial, and…not realistic in the slightest). 

Do some freaking research.  Look at the experiences of creators of color, especially ones who get blacklisted for daring to “make their own” (you people who are trying to agree with Michelle Rodriguez’s hypocritical, stupid-ass need to actually educate yourselves on this crap).  

What has she created?  Like, you guys expect someone to “make their own” but you never consider the blood, sweat, tears and resources we would need to do that.  You think the problem is that we haven’t tried to create our own characters and mythologies, and I don’t know whether that’s just ignorance on your part or you really have internalized the idea that PoC haven’t created anything. 

And you never consider that people have been “making their own” for a long time now and still might see merit in racebending.  Or maybe they’re not interested in a “political statement” and just want to be freaking James Bond (since you sure as hell aren’t telling white people to “make their own” when ever they get their hands on a popular anime). 

Like, do you have any clue how this crap works?  You act like its just a case of laziness (a common assumption that relies on internalized racism and erasure).  You have actual creators of color (including artists and writers right here on Tumblr) who have talked about this.  There is no excuse.

Hasil Do, Too

Hasil repays the favor to Sally Ann. Companion Piece to Hasil Do.

I imagine this taking place the day after Hasil finds her. Let’s say after they calm down, they decide to stick together and he comes back again later to spend time with her where she is hiding out. I only have a twa and Hasil only has one good hand, so I left the mechanics of braiding out. When my hair gets long enough @dormantgenius as Sally Ann is my hair crush!

Hasil Do, Too

Sally Ann was in the window, holding up a pink bag like a toddler in her arms.

“What'ya got this time, Sally Ann? Let me carry that for ya.”

“It’s not that heavy.”

“But yer my girl, Sally Ann. I’m the one to look after ya now….”

“Naomi helped me get all this stuff out here.”

They both looked down at the thought of why. Of James. Their bond was still so freshly restored that neither knew how to act.

For his part, Hasil was more than half willing to make carvings out of every tree in the forest so she’d never feel alone again, but he didn’t have enough time. Neither of them seemed to.

He hefted the pink, sweet smelling back pack further into his arms and headed inside the old lady’s home where Sally Ann had been living.

“I’m right proud of you living on your own like this without much help from the city.”

“Well, I’m not like y'all. I cleaned out my account once I made sense of…everything, so I have some practical things while I camp out here.”

Hasil chewed his lip to hold back his curiosity some. The house looked about the same as it did before. But now, it smelled comforting to him.

There were cases of water bottles next to a few boxes of what Hasil assumed was food stuff. A few tattered suitcases were set next to those, and she also had a metal pot and some plates laid by the fire place.
And on the couch was a shiny, puffy looking blanket city folk slept in when they weren’t at home.

“Do you want anything to eat? I have soup, dried fruit, nuts, cookies….?”

He’d have chewed off the rest of the fingers on his bum hand before taking any food out of Sally Ann’s mouth.

“No, no. But if I bought you a rabbit, would ya like that?”

She lifted her eyebrows.

“You’d have to help me clean it and cook it….?”

“Sounds like a date if'n I ever heard of one!”

She didn’t quite laugh, but the corners of her lips pulled up a bit like she couldn’t stop the smile if she tried.

The silence stretched on until she cleared her throat and gestured to the bag still nestled in his arms. It wasn’t like him to be so still, almost nervous.

“I did all the pre-work with my hair. I was hoping you could help me out this time?”

Delighted, Hasil gracefully marched to the couch and spread his knees. He even giggled when she sat between them.

“So, Sally Ann, what’s first?”

“You are something else. Start with this and work it all the way through.”

She reached to her left and fished for a familiar jar and handed it back to him.

She could feel him squinting at the label the way he’s squinted at her name tag.

“It moisturizes my hair. Then we’re going to seal it in with oil. I don’t mind helping you keep up on your reading sometime, if you’d like..?”

Her answer was long in coming. Hasil was absorbed in running more of that sweet smelling cream through her hair. He shifted in his seat watching his hand almost disappear in her hair when he got to the roots.

“Mmm, Sally Ann….”

Relaxing into the steady pulls on her hair, she placed one of her hands over his injured one resting in her shoulder.

“Why do you say my name so much, Hasil?”

“Every time I hear your name, I keep ya with me. Sally Ann, Sally Ann, Sally-”

“Hasil, Hasil, Hasil, Hasil!”

Fighting to speak over one another, they burst into childish giggles in lieu of a draw.

A tension that they’d been all to aware of these past day lightened considerably. With ever gentle comb through her hair, they felt closer and more grounded to one another.

“I don’t know what to do, Hasil. About the future.”

He pulled his hand away from her beautiful black hair and put his hand out for the oil.

“No wonder your hair had such a shine to it when I first saw ya.”

Laughing, she handed him the oil and relaxed into the gentle petting. It was taking long even for her standards, but having Hasil take care of it with one hand beat any of the times she did it with both of hers.

“Hasil, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“Well, Sally Ann. I’m makin’ this is up as we go along. You know by now that I ain’t gon’ let you go.”

“I never wanted you to. I just wanted things to get easier…”

He nudged at her shoulders and she turned to face him, but it wasn’t enough. He pulled her to sit in his lap where he could cradle her completely.

“They might get worse a'fore they get better, but it ain’t over. We ain’t really had our chance yet but I’ll see that we get one.”


He tucked her face under his chin and sunk his good hand back into her thick, perfect hair.

“You let me fret about that. You just let me take care a you, Sally Ann. That’s what you do.”

He rocked and petted until the light in the house had shifted and she was lightly dozing in his arms. He delicately laid her out and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll take care a you, Sally Ann. You’ll see.”

Doctor Who's Samuel Anderson: 'I'd like to be the first black James Bond'

What would your dream acting job be?

“As a kid I wanted to be the first black James Bond. There’s still a window for that.”

Yes, please.

Story Roundup: Issues 1 - 50

Before I get to the next comics, I feel like I should reflect on what happened in the first 50 issues, along with the specials and miniseries that came out in that time. Since there was so little plot for so long, I’ll mostly just be talking about where the major characters are at right now and how they’ve changed

Keep reading

after you see a live performance like that you begin to understand that james bond movies probably pay the bills (and give him worldwide exposure) and that’s why he does them

because to take an actor’s actor, to take someone of this calibre and reduce him to a character like Q is almost offensive considering his talent

that was a masterclass in acting. i am still at a loss for words. 

heeello ladies, i was just wondering if you were up for fluff today because i want the fluffiest birthday fic for Q, in celebration of ben whishaw’s birthday today! thank you so much <3 – anon

Teehee!! Jen.

Q nuzzled into Bond’s side, yawning expansively. “’lo’,” he mumbled, making tiny noises of discontent at being woken up. “You ‘kay?”

“Happy birthday!”

Q made a noise of absolute contempt, and all but buried himself in Bond’s side. “M’not coming out,” he said frankly, muffled by blanket and bicep. “Never. Ever ever. Sleepy.”

Bond smiled, fingers gently pulling through tangled strands of dark hair, tender and gentle, while Q refused to come out. “I know,” he murmured fondly. “But I have cake, and presents. You’re getting up.”


“Then no presents.”

For a grown man, Q had a habit of fixing the most appalling of bereft expressions on his face, and sniffling slightly as he looked at his lover. “Not fair,” he said, with absolute betrayal, eyes enormous. “I’m just sleepy.”

“You’re acting like a six-year-old,” Bond told him, with a slight laugh, kissing Q softly. “Q…”

“I have a day off work. An actual honest-to-god day off, and you’re making me get up.”

“I have plans!”

Q still looked horrified, if not more so than before. “You actually intend to make me leave the house?” he asked, with a vague sniffle, eyes looking very slightly glossy. “James, that’s not fair.”

Another kiss; Q was still mildly disgruntled, but conceded defeat easily enough. “I’ll make it worthwhile,” he murmured gently, and bopped Q gently on the nose. “Honestly. Q, it’s your birthday. I just want to make today special.”

“I’m old. Woop.”

“Stop it.”

“Okay: woop,” Q corrected, with more emphasis and infinitely more sarcasm. “James, this is ridiculous.”

Bond pulled out of the bed; Q let out a noise like a strangled cat, which Bond duly ignored, given Q’s propensity for such alarming noises which very, very rarely meant anything in practise.

He returned, two minutes later, with cake. And candles.

“I thought this was supposed to happen later in the day?” Q asked, as Bond hummed happy birthday under his breath.

The candles should have made Bond look older. Cast shadows in the wrong place, highlighted the exhaustion, the wrinkles.

Instead, he looked somehow infinitely more alive, as he was now. Watching Q with a quiet and understated joy, love; something Q could only just see, couldn’t quite grasp, certainly couldn’t begin to understand.

“Love you,” Q told him instead, with all honesty.

Bond smiled. “Happy birthday,” he returned simply, and Q blew the candles out.