without the brown and stuff

The Final Problem: We don't have the proper "emotional context." (Not yet)

So I was speculating with @green-violin-bow here that when Sherlock is smashing the coffin, he’s actually reacting to believing that John has died/is dying. John is drifting in between consciousness and unconsciousness, and his mind re-imagines Sherlock’s words, and puts them into a different scene or context, one where he is not involved. 

And after I’d written that post, I’d realised that I’d used the phrase “emotional context” without even thinking about it, without properly realising that it came from the episode itself. 

Of course, it’s what Eurus repeats in the episode. It was “like an earworm, couldn’t get it out of my head.” [Sidenote: that does sound very much like Mark’s friend Derren Brown and his Perception Without Awareness stuff- more here and here and here]. 

The word “context” crops up six times in this episode- all said by Eurus. And “emotional context” comes twice:

“Now, as I understand it, Sherlock, you try to repress your emotions to refine your reasoning. I’d like to see how that works. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to apply some context to your deductions.” [This is just before the three Garrideb brothers are revealed to be hanging above the sea]

“You’ll drop them into the sea.” “Sink or swim.” “They’re tied up!” “Exactly! Now there is context. Please continue with your deductions.”

“Whose coffin, Sherlock? Please, start your deductions. I will apply some context in a moment.

“All those complicated little emotions, I lost count. Emotional context, Sherlock, it destroys you every time.

“Sherlock, there’s something you need to know.” “Emotional context. And here it comes.”

“Well, you gave her what she was looking for. Context.

Well, “context” comes up a lot, so what?

It’s because that’s what both the audience and John are “looking for.” Context. [See a John is Nobody/Eurus parallel here]. Eurus repeats the idea of context being applied in the future; in a moment; here it comes. But, does it really? No. That’s largely why the episode feels unfinished- we’re still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

We’re waiting for the true emotional context. The Redbeard/Victor reveal is built up, as is the apparent Eurus/ girl on the plane reveal, but they feel rushed and unsatisfying- there’s not a real ‘Aha!’ clicking moment of understanding that we usually get from a Sherlock episode. eg. I am SHERlocked; Mary is the Liar; TAB is in Sherlock’s head.

The “emotional context” for the entire episode is still coming. And that true context is that it’s a projection from John’s mind as he lies there, after being shot in The Lying Detective.

This is also not a Christmas carol.  I know that.  You know that.  But a girl can only write so many stories surrounding songs about one baby’s birth.  And also I really wanted an excuse to write Penny and John.  Mostly Penny, though, mostly Penny.  God I love that woman.  This may or may not be a prequel to O Christmas Tree.  Interpret it however you wish.

Silver and Gold

December 17th, 2015

“John Tracy.”

Her voice shines like silver silk, all of the day’s ribbons finally unwrapping and unwinding, letting her shoulders fall, letting her breaths expand, and letting every minute feature of her carefully calculated expression slip into an easy, effortless smile.  “Dare I point out that you are currently standing beneath mistletoe?”

She’s slung in the doorway, in a way that a Lady should never be, but she holds, in her lacily gloved hands, a bottle of wine that only a Lady could afford.  Everything about her in that moment is contradictory, so when John looks up to find white berries and green leaves tied with a neat, crimson bow, he knows he can laugh.  This is Penelope, after all.  "So this was your plan all along,” he says.  “Thirteen long years of friendship, all leading up to this very night when you lure me beneath the mistletoe and confess your true feelings for me?”

“The only true feeling I have about you, John Tracy, is that you are an arse.”

Keep reading

  • The Ferguson Police Department, releasing the police officer’s name and putting out a “packet” of stuff basically saying without saying that Michael Brown is a “strongarm” robbery suspect, declining to give details and instead allowing their version of “facts” to simmer, to stew for a while in the court of public opinion so by the time  they actually hold a press conference to produce evidence, the public – they hope – will have made up their minds that Michael Brown was a criminal and not a guy shot to death by a police officer as he held his hands in the air, as if to surrender.  
  • Shot despite surrendering.  THAT is what the Ferguson Police Department wants you and everyone else in America to forget.

tinylilemrys  asked:

Aah I just thought of a prompt! James Potter vs the electric toaster. I don't mind how it happens, but since at Hogwarts they probably toast things by the fire. I would love to see James practically jumping out of his skin when he makes toast with the toaster for the first time and the toast pops.

Here we go, noonesheretogiveitup. I’m sorry it’s so late (and short), but I hope you like it! 

The doorbell rang.

Lily Evans sat up in bed, bleary eyed. Rubbing her face, she padded over to her bedroom window, where she pulled the curtain aside. Who the hell is at the door at seven on a Sunday morning? She peered down at her front lawn, where a tall, scruffy-haired, bespectacled figure paced.

James.

When he had come to her at the end of term, telling her that his Muggle Studies grades had plummeted and he needed the help of a certain beautiful, smart, all-round fantastic witch, Lily had not-so-grudgingly agreed. He’d told her he only needed to see how some muggle kitchen appliances worked, so he could draw diagrams and hand in an essay. He hadn’t told her he’d be here for breakfast.

Suddenly feeling much more awake, she grabbed a hair tie from her bedside table before stumbling down the stairs. Pulling her hair into a lop-sided bun, she opened the door to bright morning sunlight.

James Potter jumped a little as the door in front of him opened suddenly. He looked up with a smile to find his girlfriend… in his Quidditch jersey. It hung off her petite frame, coming only halfway down her slim thighs and exposing a freckled shoulder.

“So that’s where it went,” he commented, feigning nonchalance.

“What?” Lily frowned, before looking down. “Oh. This. I, yeah, borrowed it.” She blushed.

James nodded, locking his eyes on her face as he tried very hard not to look down again.

“Right. Er… come in.”

James followed Lily into the empty kitchen as she explained how Petunia was at university, and he parents were out visiting a sick great-aunt who won’t be able to make it to the annual Evans family Christmas gathering. She threw him a wink as she washed her hands.

“So, breakfast?” Lily asked, pulling some overhead cabinets open to take out some peanut butter and a bag of bread. She tossed the latter at James, who caught it with one hand.

“Yeah, sorry I turned up so early. Did I wake you up?”

“Yes,” she replied, but she was smiling.

Opening the fridge, she grabbed two eggs and a package of bacon. She got to work, teaching James how the gas stove works. She pulled a frying pan out from under the sink, cracked the two eggs into it, and set it over the flames.

“I’ve heard about these!” James exclaimed suddenly, examining the electric toaster with wide eyes.

“So you know how to use it?” Lily asked, laying the bacon strips on another pan.

“Sure. You just… uh…”

“Pop the bread in the slot at the top, and push the side lever down.”

“Yeah, I know.” James nodded.

Lily smirked, rolling her eyes. She turned back to the eggs, which had burned slightly, sticking to the bottom of the pan. Damn, she muttered, using the spatula to delicately scrape around it.

After a few minutes, Lily heard a gasp behind her.

“Lily! Lily! The bread is actually turning brown! How do muggles think up this stuff without magic?”

Sensing trouble, Lily whirled around. James was peering into the appliance with one eye, when-

POP.

James gave a terrified yelp as he jumped, banging his forehead on the open cabinet door. To Lily’s (slightly amused) horror, he fell to the ground, where he lay still.

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This is what happens when you disturb a nest of flying ants. They were living under thick moss in our yard without us knowing. The pile of brown stuff is the eggs and those are the flying members of the colony in the right. They’re currently picking up the eggs and taking them down holes into the nest chambers. I don’t really like bugs but this is cool as hell. 🐜