WHAT THE HELL?!??!?!
SEASON 3 EPISODE 3 SPOILERS AHEAD!!! MAJOR SPOILERS AND RANT!!! BEWARE!!!!!!!!!!!
Sherlock’s trying to make excuses for Mary shooting him, saying that she didn’t go for a kill shot and called the ambulance, but HIS HEART FUCKING STOPPED and it was the thought of JOHN BEING IN DANGER that brought him back.
So YES Mary DID kill him. FUCK SHERLOCK STOP TRYING TO MAKE EXCUSES FOR HER JUST BECAUSE SHE’S JOHN’S WIFE.
Goddammit Sherlock, you’re breaking my heart here.
And I’m kind of pissed at John too. I mean I was willing to give Mary a chance at the beginning, and she was charming, fun, witty, interesting, so while it hurt to see Sherlock having to step aside for her I could accept that. But now she turns out to be some assassin killer, who apparently has killed many people for god knows what reason, so no, I’m NOT OK with John just being all oh-I-don’t-care-about-your-past.
SHE ALMOST KILLED SHERLOCK!! THE MAN WHO SAVED YOUR LIFE!! THE MAN WHO DOVE INTO A FIRE FOR YOU!! And he fucking cares about you and your happiness SO FUCKING MUCH he’s willing to forgive his attempted-murderer because you apparently LOVE HER so fucking much and he doesn’t want to hurt you. So fuck you John, and your blindness.
On top of that, to protect your happy little domestic life, Sherlock KILLS for you. And he gets sent on a SUICIDE MISSION as punishment. Sherlock was willing to DIE FOR YOU, John, and you would just go home to your happy little murderer wife with your little baby and live your happy little lives while SHERLOCK HAS TO PAY THE PRICE FOR IT. So yeah, forget love, even as a “friend” you’re doing a marvelously shitty job of it John, much less a supposed “best friend”.
No. I am NOT fucking OK with this. Fuck this. Right now I’m pissed at just about everyone in this show EXCEPT Sherlock…and Molly. Molly’s still cool. Fucking hell. Fuck it all. Season 4 better have some answers, because I am so close to being done.
THIS is pretty much exactly how I feel.
The Night before Sherlock
Twas the night before Sherlock and all through the earth
All the fangirls were squeeing with uncontained mirth.
The giffers were giffing the teasers with care
In hopes that new episodes soon would be there.The slashers were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions Johnlockian danced in their heads.
To avoid any spoiling, I blocked from my Tumblr
All spoilers and actors who used to be humbler.When out on the web there arose such a chatter
I logged in to twitter to see what was the matter.
I turned on the iphone, I didn’t need Flash
To hear cries of “no homo!” “no romo!” and “slash!”“The camera on Cumberbatch flesh white as snow
Gave lust to John Watson’s gaze, shot from below!”
When what to my stream-scrolling eyes should appear
But an actor announcing “John Watson’s not queer!“Our show’s straight up bromance, it’s you all who gayed us!
The queer stuff’s a joke, you can even ask Gatiss!”
Then, more livid than fangirls oft slighted by canon,
Billy Wilder arose from the dead bearing fanon!“Now Barrymore, Rathbone, Now William Gillette!
On Stephens! On Plummer! On Jeremy Brett!
From The Study in Scarlet to the top of Bart’s wall,
All Holmeses are “fond of queer mysteries”—all!“The Great Game Sherlockians always have played—
When it meets with an error, a story is made!”
So up to the rooftop, the Holmeses, they flew,
Falling and dying and coming back new."When in "Reichenbach” Cumberbatch fell from the roof,
We knew Sherlock lived, we just didn’t have proof!”
As these ghosts of past Holmeses were flitting around
Through the livestream Mark Gatiss came in with a bound.He was dressed all in pinstripes, a well-tailored fella,
Propped up on a signature Mycroft umbrella.
A bundle of references sprung from his lips,
From the footprints of hounds to the five orange pips.“We’re giving you Sherlock, so let us not tarry,
But fans wanted Johnlock where Doyle wrote us Mary!
Our Sherlockian mouth may be arched like a bow
And the camera may dwell on his skin white as snow,We traded his pipe for the nicotine patch,
And we added a Molly, but Mary must match!
Our Sherlock likes cellphones, John posts to a blog,
But we’re not all that modern, we can’t have men snog!”And then from my bookshelf a volume pushed out
And I laughed when I saw Nero Wolfe by Rex Stout!
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Gatiss gave us to know we had nothing to dread.He spoke not a word, but turned to his writing
And filled slashers’ fic prompts with gazes exciting.
Rex Stout saw the Holmes/Watson conjugal life
But instead of two gents, called them “husband and wife,”And where Moffat wrote Adler as weilding a whip,
Stout saw Watson, “The Woman,” give readers the slip.
But both Moffat and Gatiss as Great Gamers know,
Sherlock Holmes is for all of us! On with the show!
I think fanfiction is literature and literature, for the most part, is fanfiction, and that anyone that dismisses it simply on the grounds that it’s derivative knows fuck-all about literature and needs to get the hell off my lawn.
Most of the history of Western literature (and probably much of non-Western literature, but I can’t speak to that) is adapted or appropriated from something else. Homer wrote historyfic and Virgil wrote Homerfic and Dante wrote Virgilfic (where he makes himself a character and writes himself hanging out with Homer and Virgil and they’re like “OMG Dante you’re so cool.” He was the original Gary Stu). Milton wrote Bible fanfic, and everyone and their mom spent the Middle Ages writing King Arthur fanfic. In the sixteenth century you and another dude could translate the same Petrarchan sonnet and somehow have it count as two separate poems, and no one gave a fuck. Shakespeare doesn’t have a single original plot—although much of it would be more rightly termed RPF—and then John Fletcher and Mary Cowden Clarke and Gloria Naylor and Jane Smiley and Stephen Sondheim wrote Shakespeare fanfic. Guys like Pope and Dryden took old narratives and rewrote them to make fun of people they didn’t like, because the eighteenth century was basically high school. And Spenser! Don’t even get me started on Spenser.
Here’s what fanfic authors/fans need to remember when anyone gives them shit: the idea that originality is somehow a good thing, an innately preferable thing, is a completely modern notion. Until about three hundred years ago, a good writer, by and large, was someone who could take a tried-and-true story and make it even more awesome. (If you want to sound fancy, the technical term is imitatio.) People were like, why would I wanna read something about some dude I’ve never heard of? There’s a new Sir Gawain story out, man! (As to when and how that changed, I tend to blame Daniel Defoe, or the Modernists, or reality television, depending on my mood.)
I also find fanfic fascinating because it takes all the barriers that keep people from professional authorship—barriers that have weakened over the centuries but are nevertheless still very real—and blows right past them. Producing literature, much less circulating it, was something that was well nigh impossible for the vast majority of people for most of human history. First you had to live in a culture where people thought it was acceptable for you to even want to be literate in the first place. And then you had to find someone who could teach you how to read and write (the two didn’t necessarily go together). And you needed sufficient leisure time to learn. And be able to afford books, or at least be friends with someone rich enough to own books who would lend them to you. Good writers are usually well-read and professional writing is a full-time job, so you needed a lot of books, and a lot of leisure time both for reading and writing. And then you had to be in a high enough social position that someone would take you seriously and want to read your work—to have access to circulation/publication in addition to education and leisure time. A very tiny percentage of the population fit those parameters (in England, which is the only place I can speak of with some authority, that meant from 500-1000 A.D.: monks; 1000-1500: aristocratic men and the very occasional aristocratic woman; 1500-1800: aristocratic men, some middle-class men, a few aristocratic women; 1800-on, some middle-class women as well). What’s amazing is how many people who didn’t fit those parameters kept writing in spite of the constant message they got from society that no one cared about what they had to say, writing letters and diaries and stories and poems that often weren’t discovered until hundreds of years later. Humans have an urge to express themselves, to tell stories, and fanfic lets them. If you’ve got access to a computer and an hour or two to while away of an evening, you can create something that people will see and respond to instantly, with a built-in community of people who care about what you have to say.
I do write the occasional fic; I wish I had the time and mental energy to write more. I’ll admit I don’t read a lot of fic these days because most of it is not—and I know how snobbish this sounds—particularly well-written. That doesn’t mean it’s “not good”—there are a lot of reasons people read fic and not all of them have to do with wanting to read finely crafted prose. That’s why fic is awesome—it creates a place for all kinds of storytelling. But for me personally, now that my job entails reading about 1500 pages of undergraduate writing per year, when I have time to read for enjoyment I want it to be by someone who really knows what they’re doing. There’s tons of high-quality fic, of course, but I no longer have the time and patience to go searching for it that I had ten years ago. But whether I’m reading it or not, I love that fanfiction exists. Because without people doing what fanfiction writers do, literature wouldn’t exist. (And then I’d be out of a job and, frankly, I don’t know how to do anything else.)
“As a professor, may I ask you what you think about fanfiction?” (via meiringens)
This is awesome and so good to remember. And for those of us that do write fanfic, the feedback helps us to stretch an grow and become better writers and maybe write more then the fanfic (not that theres anything wrong with the fanfic of course!). I know for me personally this amazing experience has given me the confidence to switch my major from something ‘safe’ to something I really want to do.
When you watch Torchwood there is a warning at the very beginning that some scenes may offend or disturb people, so if you allow your children to sit and watch it with you that’s your responsibility, it’s not ours anymore. We kissed, we held each other, we lay on top of each other in bed… and there were lots of complaints about that. Nobody complained that I was shot in the head four times, there were burning people in ovens, that I was stabbed by a mob of 50 people hundreds of times, and I was hanging dripping my blood in a pit. So that’s what confuses me, because you’re not complaining about gay sex, you’re complaining about two men kissing. And it’s 2011. And people say, “Well why should we have that on television?” Because the BBC have to represent the greater public — and there are gay people out there who pay their television license. For people to complain, that’s your prerogative — but you know what, none of them turned it off! They were just embarrassed because it put them in a position where they had to explain things to their kids or their family which probably should have been explained a long time ago.
John Barrowman.
Barrowman, everyone.
This is why I love him, and why I will always love him.
(via thedoctorandthewoman)
The fact that people complain about sex, while never complaining about violence is so very revealing about our society.
(via threebeerproblem)
IF YOU ARE COMFORTABLE EXPLAINING “COUNTRYCIDE” AND “CHILDREN OF EARTH” BUT NOT SAME-SEX RELATIONSHIPS TO YOUR CHILDREN
GET THE ACTUAL FUCK OUT.
(via armydoctorpeterpotter)