bibliomancer7

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rose of versailles 50th anniversary book

tribute by shin-ichi sakamoto

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tony “stark”? like the tower??

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🫐 🍑

[bibliomancer7]

Also, if you ever receive a bill that says the service you got is not covered because the doctor or hospital was out-of-network instead of in-network, Google “[your state] surprise medical bill law.” Many states are passing laws allowing you relief if, say, you went to have surgery and the surgeon was in-network but the anesthesiologist wasn’t, or the hospital was in-network but the actual doctors you saw weren’t, or a doctor stopped by your hospital room for 30 seconds to take your blood pressure and later sent you a fat out-of-network bill. Use the legal resources and appeal resources available to you and contest, contest, contest as much as you can.

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Carrot

For the Sherlock #mayprompts2024.

Prompt: Manipulate

Greg Lestrade wins first round with a minor government functionary.

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I know it sounds like I’m manipulating him – dangling cases in front of him, offering him what he wants if he’ll give up the other thing he wants. Telling him to be a good little do-bee because that’s what coppers do, just using the carrot instead of the stick.

Put it that way, I suppose I am. I just want to see him clean. Police work, you see what drugs do to people – bright people, decent people, kind people, who lose all those qualities in a slow erosion, until fixing is the only important thing and they’ll betray everything they once were to do it. I don’t want to see the light in those eyes go vague and distant, those quick movements turn into the underwater drifting of someone who’s malnourished and toxic. I’d feel sick to see that keen expression replaced by a junkie’s hopeful excitement at the prospect of a handout.

No, there’s nothing that says I have to see him again. But I know I will; crime scenes draw him, they’re his other drug, and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t stop thinking. You meet someone like that once in a lifetime. So I strike the bargain.

And of course, Mycroft finds me. There’s someone who doesn’t manipulate when he thinks he can get away with issuing orders, although it’s clear that he knows how to make a phone call to Kyiv that’ll bring down a political candidate in Ghana. Lower-level government functionaries don’t send silent black electric cars to collect you at the Yard, for all his office in Whitehall is windowless and unassuming. Windowless means security, and that’s one thing I can see he’s got by the truckload.

But where his younger brother is concerned, I get the sense he resents the notion of using subtlety. Sherlock is family, Mycroft is the elder, he’s sent his brother to this therapist and that rehab, and the unruly creature refuses to behave no matter how sternly he’s scolded. Good luck changing someone’s heart by telling them what to do.

So I lay out my case. “He’s good,” I say. “I’ve got inspectors on the force with years of experience who don’t spot what he does. I’d give eggrolls to keep him as a consultant, if he can stay clean.”

“That is the exact problem, Inspector,” says Mycroft (where did their parents find these names? Maybe that’s what’s warped them both). “He will backslide, and you will embarrass yourself, and I will most likely have another mess to clean up. I require your cooperation in this matter.”

“I don’t think so,” I say, and I can tell from the minute widening of those cold eyes that he’s not used to having anyone push back – anyone but Sherlock, probably. “Have you ever smoked?”

“I beg your pardon?” I might as well have asked him if he’s ever gone cruising in Soho.

“Smoked. I’m thinking you’d be a Silk Cut sort of chap.”

“It is hardly – I’m assuming you are trying to make some sort of a point.”

“Used to be a pack a day man, myself. Gets old, waking up with that thick cough and losing your wind going up the stairs, even if it feels like it keeps you sharp.” I unbutton my cuff, rolling back my sleeve to show the Nic-Assist patch on my forearm. “These helped. Every day for a while, then cut in half, then every other day. And if there’s a bloody awful case and I’m itching for a smoke, I promise myself I’ll get a whole patch so long as I don’t give in. Not the healthiest thing in the world, still jacks up my heart rate and gets me light-headed sometimes, but then you don’t join the force for your health, do you?”

“And your point being…?”

“Sherlock craves something. Not my job to know why, quit asking that kind of question a long time ago. But it’s all brain chemicals, mate, they tell you that in training modules when some cuddly Addiction Services handholder gives a workshop. You can get ’em from something that’s going to tear up your lungs or leave you starving and stupid, or you can get ’em from something a little less destructive.” I button my cuff again.

“You are comparing yourself to my brother?”

“I’m saying people are human.” Except present company, possibly. “In my work, you’ve got to size ’em up enough. Let him work cases, it’s just catnip to him, you can tell. On the condition he stays off everything else. And I control the supply. He’ll have to pee in a cup any time I say he has to. Let me toss his flat, search his pockets. But if he keeps up his end, there’ll be a steady flow of his other drug. God knows we’re not sitting round the Yard playing draughts.”

He gives me a long, searching look. I look right back. I’ve stared down killers who were warmer and fuzzier.

“All right,” he says. “I shall not interfere at this time.” Minor government functionary. “I expect regular reports. I consider myself – responsible for my brother. I will not tolerate any indication of neglect for his welfare.”

“Take as good care of him as one’ve my own, mate.”

“Anthea will return you to the Yard,” he says, standing.

“That’s all right,” I answer. “Could use the exercise. Benefit, you know.” I pat the patched arm, sketch a salute with two fingers – not the way I’m itching to, just a graze at one eyebrow.

It occurs to me on my way along the Embankment that I’ve managed to manipulate Mycroft Holmes, too – made him give up something he wants, the kind of control you can see he’s used to exerting over everything in his orbit, for something he wants more. His brother, clean and sober. If I can keep him that way.

Everyone’s got their carrot and stick. People are human. Even Mycroft Holmes.

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[bibliomancer7]

the lady and her knight

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HAPPY PRIDE MONTH 🌈

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OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NO PHOTOS!!!

Graugans 🐣 (greylag goose) am Max-Eyth-See, Mühlhausen.

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RUSSIA BOMBED MY UKRAINIAN PUBLISHER?!

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It’s them… About their own story..

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CHAT THEY DISCOVERED A NEW COAT TYPE IN CATS

IT'S CALLED "SALMIAK" OR "SALTY LICORICE" AND IT LOOKS LIKE THIS

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DEAD BOY DETECTIVES | 1.08

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Egon Schiele - Port of Trieste - 1907

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Rexstrew & Revri Break Down Dead Boy Detectives Queer Moments

Specifically in Episode 6, “The Case of the Creeping Forest,” when Edwin changes his outfit for the first time...He’s wearing a cozy green sweater and tells Charles that he has feelings for men. Charles puts both his hands on Edwin’s shoulders, facing him, as a sign of his unconditional love and support for Edwin’s sexuality. “For me, I always knew that Charles was the only one that can get through to Edwin through touch,” says Revri. “Edwin wouldn’t want anyone else to really touch him.” It’s an important moment for their friendship, signifying that Edwin is starting to open up about his feelings and his attire reflects this. “To change Edwin is a big deal because Edwin doesn’t like change,” costume designer Kelli Dunsmore tells Tudum. “He had no collar. He had no bow tie.” Up until Episode 6, Edwin is always buttoned-up and closed off, protected in his tailor-made suit. “Hiding everything,” says Dunsmore. It was Rexstrew’s pitch to have Edwin wear something different for that episode. “I just thought it could be an interesting way to get Charles’ attention,” says Rexstrew. “It’s like this really innocent and desperate little attempt.” In the scene, Revri chose to add in a line acknowledging the fashion statement. “It felt right for Charles to notice that Edwin dressed up nice,” he says.

[bibliomancer7]

I've been on a bit ob a Russell Crowe movie binge in the past few weeks and since he is almost sixty now, many of the movies I've watched were consequently older movies. and when I watched them, it struck me again, how much hollywood has changed in the last few decades when it comes to depicting men.

take Gladiator for example from the year 2000. Russell Crowe plays basically an action hero in it. he is a big, muscly dude, who is very strong and uses that strength to defeat his enemies. and this is what he looks like:

looks like a strong man, right?

in the same year, Hugh Jackman as Wolverine looked like this in the first X-men movie:

in 2013 the same character played by the same actor looked like this:

it's a bit much, isn't it? I mean, he looks so skinny.

and if we go even further back: look at what the womanizer character Face from the A-team looked like in the 80s show vs the 2010 movie reboot:

maybe the difference isn't that big but it really startled me when I watched that movie for the first time. in my mind there was no reason why Face should be particularly muscular since he is the charming one not the one known for being particularly strong.

if we go even further back, look at the charmin womanizer character Hawkeye in M*A*S*H from the 70's.

I know he's a doctor and there is no reason for him to be ripped but I got the feeling if they did the show now, he would be.

I don't know what my point really is I'm just saying I got a bit nostalgic when watching these men. I cannot be the only one who'd rather see more of this:

than this:

also, as a sidenote: Russell Crowe gained a lot of weight for the nice guys and he is a fucking powerhouse in that film, like, when he punches someone, you really feel it because of the weight that is behind it and the shere mass of his body.

(even if this may look different, he's about to break Ryan Gosling's character's arm. I couldn't find a gif of him punching someone but I swear it looks painfull as hell.)

so, in short: can we get big, heavy action guys back? cause I'm tired of seeing these skinny, despite being muscular dudes who look dehydrated as hell and on steroids.

and can we stop making characters ripped just for the sake of it? cause I'd rather cuddle with a guy looking like Hawkeye than one looking like Face from the new A-team movie.

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DEAD BOY DETECTIVES – SERIES ONE (2024)