♪(´ε｀ ) John had found them earlier that week, hidden in the back of their closet, recordings of Sherlock playing the violin. He even went so far as to go buy headphones before listening to them so he wouldn’t get caught. It was definitely worth the wait.
Okay, but imagine a medieval adventure fantasy where asexuals sell their services to parties who have to travel past sirens/incubi/succubi in order to fulfill their quests.
Imagine young witches and warlocks going through a final wizardry test where they have to square off against every magical creature they’ve ever learned about, and everyone is really confused as to how that one team just strolled past the sirens/incubi/succubi, and also as to why afterwards they high-fived, said “Aced it!” and then laughed for ten minutes straight.
Imagine a villain dousing a hero with a love potion and then unshackling her, expecting mindless devotion, only to have her then stab him and say “I’m aromantic, actually.”
Imagine an incubus carefully choosing a target and ending up on her couch with a tub of ice cream as she assures him that he is really good at his job and he can’t help it that he happened to pick an ace target.
Imagine an ace sailor who has to tie up his companions in the hold and sail the ship by himself whenever they encounter mermaids, and since it’s just him it’s really slow going, and he spends the entire time griping about allosexuals to the mermaids, who in turn gripe about how sick they are of having to target sailors before the sailors target them.
Imagine a love god trying to set up a pair of aro ace soulmates and putting them in increasingly romantic and/or risque situations, only to pull his hair out in frustration as they ignore or fix every situation and just become better and better friends.
While it’s certainly sad he’s gone from us, as it’s sad whenever someone incredible is lost, I think that my response to Christopher Lee’s death will be celebration. May he rest in peace, yes, but holy shit.
Christopher Lee was born ninety-three years ago, became a champion fencer in his home country of England (a champion fencer in ENGLAND!), fought alongside people such as Ian Fleming and Roald Dahl in what became today’s SAS in world war II, running around the desert killing the shit out of nazis and causing havoc behind their lines. To his final years many of their actions remain classified. When a reporter once asked him about his experiences in world war II, he apparently leaned in close and whispered “Can you keep a secret?” When the reporter replied “Yes,” he said “So can I.” and refused to speak further on the matter.
Christopher Lee got out of World War II a legendary soldier, a champion fencer, and said “Fuck it, why not go to America and be a film actor, too? That’ll be fun.” He holds the world record for most time spent on-screen fighting with a sword, personally insisted that when playing Count Dooku in the Star Wars prequel trilogy that he’d fight like a fencer and have a pistol-gripped lightsaber, and was the most-connected man in Hollywood, having the lowest average degrees of separation from anyone who was anyone for the past fifty years. (meaning: X worked with Y who worked with Christopher Lee, etc.)
The man, in the past few years, even decided that as he’d conquered the fields of war, swords, and film, that he may as well conquer the field of FUCKING METAL as well and round out his resume of badassness and still holds the world record for oldest person to be the lead singer on a heavy metal album, making his own heavy metal opera album. I’m not joking. Also dude was fucking related to Charlemange, the half-legend king who united most of Europe and was the forefather to the European nobility.
Christopher Lee remained alive, strong and lucid at 93. Fucking ninety-three.
Christopher Lee has been a personal hero of mine for ages, and I think he reached a pinnacle of greatness that few people can claim to match. God damn am I happy that we’ve lived in a world with him.
that was pretty much my reaction, too. I’m very sad, and saddened for his lovely wife and family, but, damn, son, what a life he led. Major props for not going crazy with the experiences he had when he was a young man. The way he held himself when he talked about his work. The fact that he met and fanboyed over Tolkien, the fact that he read LotR every single year, the fact that he spoke fluent German and a ton of other languages and was absolutely not bothered about speaking German in Germany even though he experienced the terror of the war caused by us first hand (unlike other people, who got their panties in a twist about Germany, looking at you, Viggo). And just… a million other things that make me so impressed about how he lived his life and that he never once stopped, sat down, and said I’m retiring. Awesome to the last day.
Dogs are the literal best and let me tell you why.
When my parents are out of town, my pup Remmy sleeps downstairs with me. I don’t mind because the basement is chilly sometimes and he’s a fuzzy little space heater. But he always does this weird thing and I didn’t figure out why until last night.
I’m a stomach-sleeper, while the rest of my family are back-sleepers. So Remmy has taken up this very different behavior with me (my family says he doesn’t do it with them). It always takes me a while to settle down, but when I do, Remmy takes his head off of his paws and rests it square in the center of my back.
So I’m thinking, “What’s the point of that? It can’t be comfortable. It cranes his neck in a funny way, and besides, every time I breathe his head goes up and down. That’s a weird thing.” So I formulate a hypothesis, and test it.
Last night, I got comfortable, Remmy put his head on my back, I waited a while, then I held my breath. It took him a while to react, but when he did, he fuckin lost it. He started whining and yipping, and repeatedly licking my face and hands. And I was like oh my god.
Conclusion: my dog noticed that I slept in a way that was different from the rest of my family, thought “that kid is gonna die” and made sure that I never stopped breathing in the middle of the night.
Dogs are fuckin smart as hell. What a wonderful animal.
A wish granted for the Insmallpackages community on Live Journal: ANYTHING (fic, icons, drawble, whatever): Sherlock (ACD or BBC) – the great detective unwinds.
Lady Karasu 