There’s a hole ripped through you.
You have to control the pain
[screams from the rooftop of st barts] WHY WOULD YOU MAKE JOHN AND SHERLOCK HAVE DINNER (A ROMANTIC DATE AS IT’S POINTED OUT BY A CERTAIN CHARACTER THANK YOU VERY MUCH) AT A RESTAURANT AND HAVING JOHN ASK SHERLOCK IF HE IS GAY AND SINGLE AND HE SMILES AND LICKS HIS TONGUE AT THE ANSWERS AND SHERLOCK BLOODY HOLMES THE WORLD’S ONLY CONSULTING DETECTIVE AND SUPER GENIUS AND PERFUME SNIFFER BELIEVES JOHN IS HITTING ON HIM IF THEY WERE ONLY GOING TO BE PLATONIC OH MY GOD
Considering Sherlock’s reaction to “You’re my best friend,” I’m starting to think he might outright faint when John says, “I’m in love with you.”
That’d be such an awesome twist on Watson fainting in canon
Anonymous asked : Hey, I'm wondering if you think that when Ella told John to say the things he'd never said (in TRF) and he said, "No. I'm sorry, I can't." Do you think that there was something he never said, or that the thing he meant to say was what he ended up saying at Sherlock's grave? Hope this question makes sense. I know you'll probably address it in your TRF meta, but... well... I'm a bit impatient, I suppose.
Basically that he loved him. Like, romantically. I mean, I know John is reluctant to open up about stuff, but it wouldn’t be very difficult for him to tell Ella, “I really admired Sherlock as a friend.” He flat-out told her, “My best friend, Sherlock Holmes, is dead.” (emphasis mine) So it wasn’t anything platonic he was keeping from Ella.
John didn’t say the romantic stuff at Sherlock’s grave, though, because he thought Sherlock already knew and rejected him in A Scandal in Belgravia, plus John blames himself and his romantic feelings for Sherlock’s death: he got frustrated with Sherlock and called him a machine in large part because the whole series to that point John was upset that Sherlock couldn’t/didn’t return his feelings. John feels like if he could have just gotten over it and accepted it was never going to happen, he wouldn’t have made Sherlock feel like he had no friends when his reputation was already ruined, and Sherlock might not have killed himself.
That’s why when he visits his grave John focuses on how human Sherlock was, and how much he generally admired him as a person, and doesn’t mention the romantic part. He realizes that Sherlock still needed friendship, even if he didn’t go in for relationships or was straight or whatever. And that’s why after Sherlock dies, John starts remembering fondly what an antisocial asshole Sherlock was: if John could just have Sherlock back and alive again, John would do it right this time, he wouldn’t want more from Sherlock than Sherlock can give.
Look at what he writes about Sherlock in retrospect on his blog: “That was the Christmas he managed to offend most of our guests, I got dumped and he met The Woman. Best Christmas I’ve ever had, actually.” That Christmas was fucking TERRIBLE for John, and we know he’s still upset about Irene in The Empty Hearse because we hear the music John thinks Sherlock composed for her when he’s standing at the bottom of the stairs to 221B. But John would accept Sherlock is terrible and heterosexual if he got him back, he knows he would, John would give anything.
That’s why John smiles during the Many Happy Returns video when Sherlock is being completely awful and saying all of John’s friends hate him. Look how he excuses Sherlock’s behavior now on his blog: “Except Sherlock. He didn’t come because he was ‘busy’. He wasn’t busy, he just… sometimes he struggled to fit in. He couldn’t switch off, couldn’t relax. He just struggled with people, I think. Yet the video… it showed the other side to him. He was rude, yeah. Arrogant. Apparently lacking in anything resembling empathy. But I’d forgotten just how funny he could be. He was so charming. So… human. It’s bizarre because most people would say he was the most inhuman person they’d ever met. But he wasn’t. He was everything a good person should be. He’d just often say what he was thinking rather than lying to protect our feelings. Maybe we should all be more like that? Maybe we should all be more honest?”
That’s also why John stays far away and doesn’t say anything romantic during the bomb scene in The Empty Hearse, and why he forgives Sherlock so quickly for faking his death and pulling that shit with the bomb. John spent two years convincing himself Sherlock is a sociopath and it was never going to happen between them, and that if he could only have Sherlock back, he would accept it and not ask for more.
I wish someone would randomly tell me little facts about myself. Not ones that I have already told them but ones they have picked up by themselves because they care enough to notice the little things I do.
In the peculiar-looking, former cross-dressing Shakespearean actor Benedict Cumberbatch, Hollywood has found an unlikely leading man.
Benedict Cumberbatch was in mid-monologue, holding forth on the dangers of the surveillance society, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was meant to be promoting his latest movie, whatever that was (he has been in a lot of them lately). He talks superfast, so that when he paused, the effect was of a train driver slamming on the emergency brakes. “Why does anyone want to know my opinions?” he asked. “I’m not interested in reading my opinions.”
He has no idea. There are people out there these days who so love to hear Cumberbatch talk — who so love to watch Cumberbatch exist — that they do not care what he does, as long as they get to observe him doing it. Somehow, along a career consisting of highly interest-ing but generally non-megastar-making roles (most recently, the lead in the BBC series “Sherlock”; Khan, the wrathful villain in the movie “Star Trek Into Darkness”; the WikiLeaks founder, Julian Assange, in “The Fifth Estate” and the voice of Smaug, the very bad-tempered dragon in the latest “Hobbit” movie), Cumberbatch has progressed from being everyone’s favorite secret crush to one of the most talked-about actors in Hollywood.
His celebrity manifests itself in unexpected ways. When Cumberbatch, who is 37, appeared on “Late Night With Jimmy Fallon,” Fallon noted that more people were waiting in the standby line than for any other guest that year. He was reportedly tweeted about 700,000 times in 2013. Last fall, he appeared on the cover of Time’s international edition. Although he has not been a romantic lead in any big films, and although he says he looks like “Sid from ‘Ice Age’ ” and although he once declared that “I always seem to be cast as slightly wan, ethereal, troubled intellectuals or physically ambivalent bad lovers,” there are numerous websites devoted to the subject of his romantic prowess, e.g., “Benedict Cumberbatch — Fantastic Lover,” a compendium of clips set to Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On,” that has been viewed more than 490,000 times on YouTube. (These are mostly posted by his army of female fans, who call themselves “Cumberbitches” and who use the hashtag “Cumberwatch” when they tweet about his activities.)
His appeal is manifest, yet hard to pin down. His name is odd, Hogwartsian, suggesting both an Elizabethan actor and a baker whose products are made with rustic ingredients no one has heard of. Tall and lean, he has an other-century look about him, with his long, narrow face, his mop of crazy hair (he keeps it shorter off-duty) and bright, far-apart, almond-shaped blue eyes that on-screen can play intelligent, ardent, manic or insane, depending on the job. In “Sherlock,” he looks like the sort of person who has a stratospheric I.Q. and an abysmal E.Q. but is dead sexy with it; at the same time, if you were to remark on his resemblance to an otter, you would not be the only one.
When he sat down with a cup of coffee in a Camden pub last November and began to discuss electronic surveillance, the government, his favorite movies, his career, the rabidity of “Sherlock” fans and how coffee affects him (it makes him talk even faster), Cumberbatch had just come off an extraordinary run of work. “The Fifth Estate,” in which he perfectly captures the slippery nature of Julian Assange — free-speech hero, treacherous colleague, possible megalomaniac — had just come out. Over the next two months, three more of his films would be released: “The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug,” in which he gets to intone things like “I am death” in a creepy dragon voice; “12 Years a Slave,” in which he plays a sympathetic slave-owner; and “August: Osage County,” in which he has a small role in an ensemble of superstars like Julia Roberts and Meryl Streep.
The Time cover had just hit the newsstands, and Cumberbatch was slightly freaked out. “It’s one of the more bizarre levels of success,” he said. At first he thought it was fake. “Someone sent me a photograph of it and I thought, ‘Some fan has got hold of a photo and done one of those neat apps where they impose your head on something,’ ” he said. Also, he had had an exciting experience on a British talk show, when Harrison Ford, a fellow guest, emerged from his taciturnity to announce that he loved him as Holmes. This has been happening to Cumberbatch a lot lately, fellow actors declaring themselves fans, such as when Ted Danson saw him through a crowd of stars at a pre-awards party recently and began shouting “Sherlock!” A few days earlier, he had wrapped his most recent movie, a biopic of the British cryptographer Alan Turing. Cumberbatch talked for a long time about the tragedy of Turing’s life and about what has been a series of very intense roles, heavy on iconic fictional characters and real people. “I am so ready to play a really dumb character,” he said.
He was born in London, to parents who were in the business — the actors Wanda Ventham and Timothy Carlton — and had his first substantial part in high school at Harrow, the famous boys’ boarding school that is the Yale to Eton’s Harvard. “I played the queen of the fairies,” he said. (That would be Titania in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”) Later, when he performed in “As You Like It,” an old alumnus watching the play apparently pronounced him “the best Rosalind since Vanessa Redgrave.” He went to the University of Manchester and the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art, and then slid pretty easily into work; so far he has appeared in more than 30 films and dozens of television, radio and theater productions. But it was his title performance in “Sherlock,” which debuted in 2010, that propelled him to a new league. Part of it has to do with the witty, knowing script, with its clever allusions to the old stories; and part of it has to do with Cumberbatch’s sublime portrayal of the odd, brilliant, infuriating, charismatic detective. Sherlock-the-character has a fanatic following, with fans who debate every Cumberbatchian movement and every plot twist with the fervor of grassy-knoll conspiracy buffs. Cumberbatch takes care to remind them that though they might well love Sherlock, Sherlock would never love them back. “I always make it clear that people who become obsessed with him or the idea of him — he’d destroy you,” Cumberbatch said cheerfully. “He is an absolute bastard.”
Over a follow-up breakfast at the Algonquin Hotel in New York a few weeks later, I started to see what his public life is like. We walked there after a quick trip to my office, in which we spoke to no one but which precipitated three breathless “Is that who I think it is?” emails from normally phlegmatic colleagues in under five minutes. (He came back a couple of weeks later, and the non-phlegmatic people were gaping in the halls.) In the street we had to move quickly, because crowds form if Cumberbatch stands still for too long. In the hotel, we positioned ourselves behind a pillar, but people spotted him anyway (when they asked for autographs, they invariably asked on behalf of their teenage children).
As good a sport as Cumberbatch is, he sometimes finds it a bit too much. Filming “Sherlock” last year in Cardiff, Wales, he had an awkward interlude when he had to walk from his trailer to his car wearing a costume that, had anyone seen it, might have become a major plot spoiler. When he failed in his efforts to get a particularly persistent paparazzo not to photograph him, Cumberbatch shrouded himself in a hoodie (“I looked like Kenny in ‘South Park’ “) and held up a sign he had hastily fashioned that said: “Go photograph Egypt and show the world something important.” The move was lampooned by the British newspapers, particularly when, to the delight of hundreds of fans massed on the street in London for another shoot, Cumberbatch did it again, this time with signs printed with provocative questions about democracy, government intrusion, journalism and the battle between liberty and security in the war on terror. “These are very complex questions and very difficult arguments to be very clear about, so to ask the questions is to stimulate the debate,” he explained. He has not done it since, though, he said, “I felt really strongly about it at the time.”
In New York he was visiting his friend Zachary Quinto, who acted alongside him in “Star Trek,” seeing some movies, going to some museums and trying to keep a low profile. He is currently unattached, and is gearing up for his next batch of work. One question that has excited “Star Trek” fans is whether his character, who all but stole the last film, will appear in the next one. There is certainly that possibility: He ended the film frozen in a pod and stored away in space. (“That was a stupid thing to do,” Cumberbatch said, referring to Starfleet Command. “They should have just blown me up.”) He pulled a cap over his head and prepared again to withstand the public. He says he has a way of negotiating big-city crowds: “If you pick a point far behind them they perceive you as not seeing them, and you’re the obstacle they have to get around.” For a moment, he sounded positively Sherlockian. “There is a way of just shadowing through,” he continued. “The higher the walls, the more dark the windows, the bigger the sunglasses — the more people are going to look. The greatest disguise is learning how to be invisible in plain sight.”
Fandom is focus. Fandom is obsession. Fandom is insatiable consumption. Fandom is sitting for hours in front of a TV screen a movie screen a computer screen with a comic book a novel on your lap. Fandom is eyestrain and carpal tunnel syndrome and not enough exercise and staying up way, way past your bedtime.
Fandom is people you don’t tell your mother you’re meeting. Fandom is people in the closet, people out and proud, people in costumes, people in T-shirts with slogans only fifty others would understand. Fandom is a loud dinner conversation scaring the waiter and every table nearby.
Fandom is you in Germany and me in the US and him in Australia and her in Japan. Fandom is a sofabed in New York, a roadtrip to Oxnard, a friend behind a face in London. Fandom talks past timezones and accents and backgrounds. Fandom is conversation. Communication. Contact.
Fandom is drama. Fandom is melodrama. Fandom is high school. Fandom is Snacky’s law and Godwin’s law and Murphy’s law. Fandom is smarter than you. Fandom is stupider than you. Fandom is five arguments over and over and over again. Fandom is the first time you’ve ever had them.
Fandom is female. Fandom is male. Fandom lets female play at being male. Fandom bends gender, straight, gay, prude, promiscuous. Fandom is fantasy. Fandom doesn’t care about norms or taboos or boundaries. Fandom cares too much about norms and taboos and boundaries. Fandom is not real life. Fandom is closer than real life. Fandom knows what you’re really like in the bedroom. Fandom is how you would never, could never be in the bedroom.
Fandom is shipping, never shipping, het, slash, gen, none of the above, more than the above. Fandom is love for characters you didn’t create. Fandom is recreating the characters you didn’t create. Fandom is appropriation, subversion, dissention. Fandom is adoration, extrapolation, imitation. Fandom is dissection, criticism, interpretation. Fandom is changing, experimenting, attempting.
Fandom is creating. Fandom is drawing, painting, vidding: nine seasons in four minutes of love. Fandom is words, language, authoring. Fandom is essays, stories, betas, parodies, filks, zines, usenet posts, blog posts, message board posts, emails, chats, petitions, wank, concrit, feedback, recs. Fandom is writing for the first time since you were twelve. Fandom is finally calling yourself a writer.
Fandom is signal and response. Fandom is a stranger moving you to tears, anger, laughter. Fandom is you moving a stranger to speak.
Fandom is distraction. Fandom is endangering your job, your grades, your relationships, your bank account. Fandom gets no work done. Fandom is too much work. Fandom was/is just a phase. Fandom could never be just a phase. Fandom is where you found a friend, a sister, a kindred spirit. Fandom is where you found a talent, a love, a reason.
Fandom is where you found yourself.
Fandom is signal and response. Fandom is a stranger moving you to tears, anger, laughter. Fandom is you moving a stranger to speak.
I cry every. damn. time. this post shows up on my dash.
Fandom is appropriation, subversion, dissention. Fandom is adoration, extrapolation, imitation. Fandom is dissection, criticism, interpretation. Fandom is changing, experimenting, attempting.
FOREVER YES. :)
Benedict Cumberbatch for The NY Times Style Magazine.
jesus he looks so preppy eighties I cannot handle
Fuck you, stylist, why would you do this, it does things to me
This might legit be my new #1 Ben photo. Jesus mary and joseph
He looks about 19 and I can’t decide whether I’m horrified or aroused or possibly both.
"I thought it was absolutely glorious. It made me incandescently happy. I thought it was so brilliant. He got right up there, isn’t he? I love him for it. And I’ll love him forever. I think it’s my favorite thing he’s ever done."
— Andrew Scott on Benedict photobombing U2, Empire Online Interview (via tedystaleva