We haven’t seen that violin since Sherlock left it at John’s wedding. Not since Sherlock poured his heart and soul into that piece. Only in Sherlock’s mind when he played again as John and Mary fought, on their last chance at reconciliation.
That violin is Sherlock’s soul. A window to that great heart. It always has been. It speaks for him when he cannot. He doesn’t play like a scientist, he plays like a lover, with emotion, with sentiment.
That broken string on the beautiful instrument is that final snap, the climax to the story arc. He’s been pulled and played for far too long. His heart, his soul, is on the line now more than it ever has been.
“It’s really lucky we don’t live in the age of film, because you would have had to change rolls three times already, and this is just our first stop,” Zach teased, fond amusement warming his tone. “Should have brought my book…”
And for that Chris turned the large lens on Zach and snapped a too-close-picture that probably included half his nose and one eye, out of focus.
“See, that right there? That would have been a total waste of film. At least with digital you can just take as many as you want and delete the mistakes.”
“I never delete pictures of you. You know that. Remember last Christmas?”
Zach huffed a laugh, because he did remember last Christmas. And besides the numerous disastrous pictures they took with Nathan and a variety of Santas, there was also a series of pictures Chris had taken in bed Christmas morning, Zach sleep ruffled and bleary and shirtless and not always in focus because they were too close for the lens. But Chris had kept every one.
“First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”
Bitch said “raw peppers”. Is that what she really think black folk doing? Eating raw peppers?
lets call her Hillareach Clinton
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Um guys Hillary Clinton’s love of hot sauce is well documented and goes way back. Like from an article about what they ate in the white house in the 90s it says that she had 100 different kinds of hot sauce and she’s really big into chili peppers and eats raw jalapenos
So it may or may not be what she thinks black people are doing but it’s definitely what she’s doing.
And here is a slate article pointing out that if she predicted this particular Beyonce song that far back and started carrying hot sauce so that she could try and seem cool twenty years later then she should be president based on her foresight alone.
hillary hot sauce receipts
never thought I’d read the sentence “Hillary
Clinton’s love of hot sauce is well documented and goes way back”
Hillary needs to stop trying to present herself as everybody’s cool grandma and start presenting herself as the stone cold bitch who’s gonna make uncomfortable, unbroken eye contact with Putin as she unblinkingly bites into a raw habanero
reblogging for that last comment
The thing is, she IS presenting herself as that stone cold bitch. Because she thinks (and there’s some evidence it’s true) that the chemicals in peppers and therefore hot sauce DO boost the immune system, which means she can keep up her furious pace of meetings and travel and staring down rivals and foreign leaders. This has worked for her for YEARS and it’s not necessarily totally crackpot. She does it because she thinks it keeps her healthier and lets her do her job better. So if you think that when she’s just pandering to you when she presents real things about herself, know this: not everything is about you. That’s a life lesson we all have to learn at some point. Learn it now.
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