Aurora Boreali

Collecting shiny pretty things.
  • Question: What would you do if you could hang out with Sherlock for the day? (or something like that)
  • Benedict: Answers questions, finishes with "I hope I'd be good enough to be his Watson.
  • Audience: Awwwww
  • Benedict: ...
  • Me: Oh fucking fuck people are going to start shipping Benedict and Sherlock oh god Benedict what have you started.

In the initial take of the scene, though, Freeman seems to be under no real pressure. It’s a straight-forward and solid reading of a potentially emotional scene and, if you didn’t know better, you’d think it was just fine. After a brief conversation with “Fargo” series creator Noah Hawley, Freeman settles in and although his scene partner delivers a performance that’s nearly identical to the first take, Freeman’s reading is now completely different. It’s not just that the emotion has been dialed up, though. Emphasis has been put on a different assortment of words and without changing a breath of the dialogue, Freeman has shifted the heft of the scene. The camera and lighting set-ups change and, again, Freeman’s co-star remains consistent—and really good, don’t get me wrong—but Freeman again steps up the emotion and punches a different assortment of words, highlighting a different potential meaning … this is what the “Office” veteran does. He starts off with the basics, but builds with each take and tries to give directors as many choices as possible, tries to give himself as many choices as possible. After watching many actors on many sets, I can assure you that this isn’t the case with everybody. Freeman is notable both for how responsive he is to direction, but also for the variations he imposes on himself.

What of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain’t a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way—either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other’s shoulder-blades, and be content.

Herman Melville, Moby Dick (1851).

The inspiration for Bob Dylan’s You’ve Gotta Serve Somebody (1979)? Just my guess.

livia-carica:

random-nexus:

24-alpha-24:

shadowandpoet:

bitch-got-lokid:

theofficialariel:

nobodylovesringostarr:

completelyfrozen:

kristoffman:

iwasbornwithglitterinmy-veins:

imagine-ever-after:

troyesivan:

joshpeckofficiall:

look out world, july cinnabon flavored coffee chillatta is on his way

june matzoh ball soup

February Kiss… damn. That’s actually not bad. 

May Ferro Rocher

March Beef…
Well, it’s a male prostitute so…

July Blueberry Greek Yogurt 
Hot

July SalmonI wouldn’t be very rich with that name. Maybe July Rice

September Dick

February Freddo…

January breakfast taco

March Stelline. Everyone always thinks I’m Italian or something.

August Lemon Truffle… *wince*
(srsly, kudos to the implications of ‘September Dick’ up there)

January Super Noodles (Beefy)

November Coconut Macaroon—NoCo for short. ; )

livia-carica:

random-nexus:

24-alpha-24:

shadowandpoet:

bitch-got-lokid:

theofficialariel:

nobodylovesringostarr:

completelyfrozen:

kristoffman:

iwasbornwithglitterinmy-veins:

imagine-ever-after:

troyesivan:

joshpeckofficiall:

look out world, july cinnabon flavored coffee chillatta is on his way

june matzoh ball soup

February Kiss… damn. That’s actually not bad. 

May Ferro Rocher

March Beef…

Well, it’s a male prostitute so…

July Blueberry Greek Yogurt 

Hot

July Salmon
I wouldn’t be very rich with that name. Maybe July Rice

September Dick

February Freddo…

January breakfast taco

March Stelline. Everyone always thinks I’m Italian or something.

August Lemon Truffle… *wince*

(srsly, kudos to the implications of ‘September Dick’ up there)

January Super Noodles (Beefy)

November Coconut Macaroon—NoCo for short. ; )

(Source: vfilthy)

Happy Passover!  
And remember to save room for the macaroons.  :)

Happy Passover!  

And remember to save room for the macaroons.  :)

atlinmerrick:

That Holmes Guy

"You do it."

"I did it once. I won’t do it again."

"Well I learned from your mistake and I’m not doing it.

"Someone has to go in there and—"

"Fucking bloody hell, I’ll do it you spoiled babies."

John Watson went chin down and stomping toward room 12. You try doctoring when it’s actually hard, you poncy gits. John didn’t say that, wouldn’t say it any of the times his colleagues complained about a patient. Neither of them had served, neither had put a soldier back together to a soundtrack of moaning because the morphine was running out and most of the oxycodone had again “disappeared.”

They’d grown used to easy consults, deferential families, to nurses smart enough to protect their egos. They’d forgotten that when people were hurt they lashed out and hurt. It didn’t make them bad, it made them human.

Sure he’d heard about this Holmes guy, another poncy git if the stories were true, a mouthy man who’d second-guess every diagnosis, argue the placement of a plaster each time he came in bruised and bleeding. The thing is, when John asked why the man was in hospital so often his idiot colleagues couldn’t tell him.

John opened 12 quietly.

The patient—sitting up in bed, eyes closed, both hands elegantly gesturing as if placing small things just so—stopped what he was doing, opened his eyes, and then his mouth.

"I used to do something like that in med school, write formula and mnemonics in the air. It helped me remember. My girlfriend said I looked like I was having seizures. Yours looks more graceful."

The man closed his mouth on words unsaid, and nearly smiled.

"Are you going to take your pain meds?"

The man shook his head no.

"Is there a reason?"

The man shook his head yes.

"Okay. Well you got it pretty bad with that cricket bat and I know you hurt like a bastard right now. Is there a way I can help with the pain?"

The man smiled for real this time.

The desert taught John how to be the kind of doctor he wanted most to be. Taught him about the part of the Hippocratic oath that said warmth and sympathy were as important as the surgeon’s knife, the chemist’s drug…or his own damned ego.

So for the next twenty minutes John offered the warmth of his attention and the sympathy of his regard. An hour later, he shared a spare five minutes. Then later another ten. And when John was off for the night he pulled a chair up beside the man’s bed and listened to him talk, and sometimes John said “amazing,” and sometimes “incredible,” and when John said, “I need a flatmate,” the man was unsurprised to hear himself say yes.

It was the first time that ‘the Holmes guy’ would say yes to the army doctor, but it wouldn’t be the last. Though he does still argue about the god damn plasters.

 Previous: Forgettable

Medeia456 said maybe they could meet when Sherlock was vulnerable, perhaps a hospital. Why I felt we would hear none of Sherlock’s words I don’t know…