Just started reading Sherlock Holmes and all the adaptations are wrong. This man is a delight. He gets excited about hemoglobin and is ecstatic at the thought of Watson as a roommate. He purposefully forgets how the solar system works so he has more room in his brain for crime. He shows Watson the dirt stains on his trousers and he can tell what part of London they come from based on color and consistency. (As far as i can tell Watson didn't ask, Sherlock just gets back from walks and tells Watson about the stains unprompted.) The text specifically says "Holmes was certainly not a difficult man to live with." Why does every adaptation make him unpleasant and rude, he's literally just eccentric. He's such a goober, I love him.
unreal unearth really said that love is both the darkness and the salvation from it and love can both make you feel weightless and like it’s worth the falling and love is both inevitable and choosing to stay in the storm and love is both temporary and everlasting and love is both feeling unknown and knowing someone in the dark and love is both a name and a dream and love is both unholy and like finding god
Description (Part One.) Alex Turner x fem!Reader. (Y/N) (Y/LN) is a young and promising publicist in show business. Her work would cause the encounter with the person who would turn her life upside down: Alex Turner. But what happens when love seems to go counterflow? When everything seems inconvenient?
Words: 1,2k.
A/N: I know it has been like two weeks. I'M SO SORRY. But I've been feeling realy unmotivated this past days. You can find the spanish version of this story on my wattpad profile. That’s it for now.
Do you wanna be tagged? You just have to ask!
Part One. Part Two. Part Three. Part Four. Part Five. Part Six. Part Seven.
Alex
He couldn't move. The events of the last years piled upon his head, they became, they mixed and separate. The space-time didn't divide on his head, it seems like it had folded on itself, was this the end of the world? the end of the planet? Did the apocalypse felt like that? He felt like it was.
The silence was deafening, with every minute that passed, the pain was more unbearable. He couldn't stop asking himself what should he do. Go out and look for her? Where was she? The sound of the wheels of her suitcase on their house entry still sounded on his head, non-stop.
"I couldn't live here, surrounded by ghosts," she had said.
He couldn't stop travelling the city on his head, going after the steps they had given that night together, the night of their first kiss. His hair was glowing that night, the skin under that shirt invited him to play. That small necklace with a circle, with that marching ring. He wanted to kiss every part of her body.
He couldn't stop travelling the city on his head, going after the steps they had given that night together, the night of their first kiss. His hair was glowing that night, the skin under that shirt invited him to play. That small necklace with a circle, with that marching ring. He wanted to kiss every part of her body.
He watched her go to the dancefloor, taking Breana's hand. He sighed when he watched her smile. It seemed like she was the only thing on the dancefloor, everything orbited around her.
"Why don't you try, Alex? I really think she likes you, Breana dropped a hint before," Matt said.
"I don't know, I wouldn't like to ruin what we've now. Is better this than nothing."
"Alex, if you don't do it now, you'll regret it tomorrow." Alex stared at him. "Look, I'm going to talk to the DJ, he's my friend. I'll ask him that when you approach her, he puts a slow song, it'll be easier." Alex didn't know what to do.
"Okey," he said, suddenly, he was certain he could do it.
When (Y/N) turned around when she felt his touch on her hips, he knew everything was going to be fine. Those eyes, that smiled drunkenly, were a sign of love, even though none of them knew that yet.
After the already told events, once they were out of the club, Alex and (Y/N) were still holding hands. They looked at each other, Alex couldn't helo it, he approached her, pulled the hair out of her face, and kissed her again.
"Do you want to take a cab? We shouldn't drive in this condition," (Y/N) said, holding Alex's hand.
"It is not bad weather, I could walk you home if you want." (Y/N) knew that her home was far away, but she wanted to spend that time with him, so she smiled and nodded.
They arrived at (Y/N)'s home holding hands, they hadn't said a word about what had happened in the club. They were acting like they always did.
"And what had happened to him?" (Y/N) asked, her eyes open wide.
"They found him in a portable bathroom, at the other end of the festival." The girl laughed at the story. They walked the street up until her building. Once they were at the front door, (Y/N) dropped Alex's hand and looked for her keys in her bag. She approached him with the keys in her hand and touched Alex's chest.
"Would you like to come up for a while?" she asked, smiling near his lips.
"Don't you buy me dinner first at least?" (Y/N) laughed.
"Don't you think there are some things we should talk about?" Alex nodded, (Y/N) offered her hand, and together they crossed the threshold of the door. "Sorry for the mess, I didn't expect any visitors tonight."
(Y/N)'s apartment had a luminous living room, at least the days the sun shined, which were only a few in London. The living room was separated from a small kitchen by an isle. The apartment also had a big room with a king-sized bed and a small office, attached to a huge bathroom.
"If you think that this is messy I don't know what you'd think about my house," Alex answered.
"Would you like some tea? I'm still pretty drunk."
"I'd love some," Alex approached the shelving that decorated one of the walls of the living room, there were hundreds of books, records, movies, pictures, and a turntable. He looked at the vinyl collections. "These are the jazz records you told me your dad had given to you?" (Y/N) looked at him, holding a tray with two cups.
"Do you remember that?"
"I remember everything you tell me, (Y/N)" She put the tray on the coffee table. They sat down on the sofa.
"Alex, I'll be honest with you." He took her hand and nodded, encouraging her to continue talking. "I like you since the day we met, but the idea of being with you romantically terrorizes me."
"Why?" he whispered.
"Because you are Alex Turner, the world-famous singer, every girl you meet falls in love with you. Dating you would be like entering an eternal competition with myself. I'm even talking about dating when maybe you don't want anything serious. But I don't want to be with you if we are not having something serious, I want to trust you, to know that when I get home after a shitty day at work I will be able to call you, and you will listen as you care." Alex looked at her, laying his head on his fist, with his elbow on the arm of the couch.
"Can I talk?" he said when (Y/N) had stopped talking, she nodded. "(Y/N), I want something serious as well. It had been really long since someone excited me as much as you do. You are smart, funny, you know a lot of things, If I could, I would be listening to you talk all day long, I don't care what you were talking about. And you are beautiful." He put her hair behind her ear. "Please, believe me, I'm Alex Turner, but it doesn't matter, because you are (Y/N) (Y/LN), the only person I want to be with." (Y/N) stayed silenced. She couldn't believe what he was saying. "Can I kiss you?"
A simple nod from her was enough for Alex to put his mouth on hers. The kiss, which started soft and tender, became desperate, both tongues started a battle. (Y/N)'s hands went from the singer's hair to the buttons of his shirt. Alex started going down (Y/N)'s neck, kissing each part of the skin which wasn't covered, including the skin of her chest. He went back to her mouth, his shirt had disappeared, they were now lying on the couch, she was on him. It was only when he heard the sound of his belt opening when he got separated from the girl.
"What's wrong? Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?" she asked quickly. Alex laughed, touching her face, which had turned now red.
"Everything is fine, (Y/N). But I think it would be better if we take things slowly. I want to do everything right with you, let me take you out on a real date before we do this." (Y/N) smiled at how attentive Alex was.
"Okay, Alex. Whatever you feel is right." Alex stood up, putting on his shirt. "Would you like to stay here? We don't have to sleep together, I can sleep on the sofa."
"It's fine (Y/N), I'll walk home." She stood up as well and walked him to the door. She was the one who started the goodbye kiss. "I'm really happy right now."
"Likewise," she said, smiling. Alex opened the door. "Have a good night."
I’m really bad at editing so I’m asking the west wing community to do me a favor: josh/leo edit with marjorie by taylor swift. The idea is yours if you want it
[text ID: “I could’ve lived like this”, echoed in my head. / As I looked around, my eyes unthinkingly clung to places where I could’ve hidden my selves: the ones that didn’t come to being and the one that I was. In the cupboards of this kitchen I could’ve buried all the women I could’ve grown into. While doing so, I would’ve put on the apron of the one who inhabited the kitchen. The cups and the glasses would’ve made place for me. I could’ve easily found a home in between the kitchen table and refrigerator. As the fragrance of rosemary and thyme found their way to me, a picture found its way to the back of my eyes: a hushed scene, full of contentment, a shot of me standing in the center of this kitchen, feet thick brown trucks giving birth to dozens of snakelike radixes, covered in colorful moss, devoid of flowers but who needs flowers when all they do is wilt anyway? I would’ve thought so, had I been the me of that frame. / I could’ve been content here, not happy, but content. The cutlery and the plates would’ve made place for me. The dull roar of the washing machine would’ve hidden my cries, with the same diligence it sheltered my mother’s. The “what ifs” of this particular scenario smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. / I could’ve been content here. I thought as I placed the coffee cup on the countertop next to the gas stove: the surface always wet for it filled the space between the sink and the stove, in between water and fire. / I could’ve been content here. I repeated as I unscrewed the lid of the coffee jar and took out a spoonful of the umber powder. / While turning on the gas and putting the cezve on its designated place, I cursed the mind that yearned for more, yearned to be more than what it was supposed to be. I cursed the eyes that only saw what was not in front of them, hands that wished to touch what wasn’t theirs to touch and the tongue that longed to taste what wasn’t hers to taste. I cursed myself because I understood that I could’ve been content here, and as the umber froth fought its way to the surface, my tears caved in to the gravitational force.]
Description (Part One.) Alex Turner x fem!Reader. (Y/N) (Y/LN) is a young and promising publicist in show business. Her work would cause the encounter with the person who would turn her life upside down: Alex Turner. But what happens when love seems to go counterflow? When everything seems inconvenient?
Words: 1,2k.
A/N: I know it has been like two weeks. I'M SO SORRY. But I've been feeling realy unmotivated this past days. You can find the spanish version of this story on my wattpad profile. That’s it for now.
Do you wanna be tagged? You just have to ask!
Part One. Part Two. Part Three. Part Four. Part Five. Part Six. Part Seven.
Alex
He couldn't move. The events of the last years piled upon his head, they became, they mixed and separate. The space-time didn't divide on his head, it seems like it had folded on itself, was this the end of the world? the end of the planet? Did the apocalypse felt like that? He felt like it was.
The silence was deafening, with every minute that passed, the pain was more unbearable. He couldn't stop asking himself what should he do. Go out and look for her? Where was she? The sound of the wheels of her suitcase on their house entry still sounded on his head, non-stop.
"I couldn't live here, surrounded by ghosts," she had said.
He couldn't stop travelling the city on his head, going after the steps they had given that night together, the night of their first kiss. His hair was glowing that night, the skin under that shirt invited him to play. That small necklace with a circle, with that marching ring. He wanted to kiss every part of her body.
He couldn't stop travelling the city on his head, going after the steps they had given that night together, the night of their first kiss. His hair was glowing that night, the skin under that shirt invited him to play. That small necklace with a circle, with that marching ring. He wanted to kiss every part of her body.
He watched her go to the dancefloor, taking Breana's hand. He sighed when he watched her smile. It seemed like she was the only thing on the dancefloor, everything orbited around her.
"Why don't you try, Alex? I really think she likes you, Breana dropped a hint before," Matt said.
"I don't know, I wouldn't like to ruin what we've now. Is better this than nothing."
"Alex, if you don't do it now, you'll regret it tomorrow." Alex stared at him. "Look, I'm going to talk to the DJ, he's my friend. I'll ask him that when you approach her, he puts a slow song, it'll be easier." Alex didn't know what to do.
"Okey," he said, suddenly, he was certain he could do it.
When (Y/N) turned around when she felt his touch on her hips, he knew everything was going to be fine. Those eyes, that smiled drunkenly, were a sign of love, even though none of them knew that yet.
After the already told events, once they were out of the club, Alex and (Y/N) were still holding hands. They looked at each other, Alex couldn't helo it, he approached her, pulled the hair out of her face, and kissed her again.
"Do you want to take a cab? We shouldn't drive in this condition," (Y/N) said, holding Alex's hand.
"It is not bad weather, I could walk you home if you want." (Y/N) knew that her home was far away, but she wanted to spend that time with him, so she smiled and nodded.
They arrived at (Y/N)'s home holding hands, they hadn't said a word about what had happened in the club. They were acting like they always did.
"And what had happened to him?" (Y/N) asked, her eyes open wide.
"They found him in a portable bathroom, at the other end of the festival." The girl laughed at the story. They walked the street up until her building. Once they were at the front door, (Y/N) dropped Alex's hand and looked for her keys in her bag. She approached him with the keys in her hand and touched Alex's chest.
"Would you like to come up for a while?" she asked, smiling near his lips.
"Don't you buy me dinner first at least?" (Y/N) laughed.
"Don't you think there are some things we should talk about?" Alex nodded, (Y/N) offered her hand, and together they crossed the threshold of the door. "Sorry for the mess, I didn't expect any visitors tonight."
(Y/N)'s apartment had a luminous living room, at least the days the sun shined, which were only a few in London. The living room was separated from a small kitchen by an isle. The apartment also had a big room with a king-sized bed and a small office, attached to a huge bathroom.
"If you think that this is messy I don't know what you'd think about my house," Alex answered.
"Would you like some tea? I'm still pretty drunk."
"I'd love some," Alex approached the shelving that decorated one of the walls of the living room, there were hundreds of books, records, movies, pictures, and a turntable. He looked at the vinyl collections. "These are the jazz records you told me your dad had given to you?" (Y/N) looked at him, holding a tray with two cups.
"Do you remember that?"
"I remember everything you tell me, (Y/N)" She put the tray on the coffee table. They sat down on the sofa.
"Alex, I'll be honest with you." He took her hand and nodded, encouraging her to continue talking. "I like you since the day we met, but the idea of being with you romantically terrorizes me."
"Why?" he whispered.
"Because you are Alex Turner, the world-famous singer, every girl you meet falls in love with you. Dating you would be like entering an eternal competition with myself. I'm even talking about dating when maybe you don't want anything serious. But I don't want to be with you if we are not having something serious, I want to trust you, to know that when I get home after a shitty day at work I will be able to call you, and you will listen as you care." Alex looked at her, laying his head on his fist, with his elbow on the arm of the couch.
"Can I talk?" he said when (Y/N) had stopped talking, she nodded. "(Y/N), I want something serious as well. It had been really long since someone excited me as much as you do. You are smart, funny, you know a lot of things, If I could, I would be listening to you talk all day long, I don't care what you were talking about. And you are beautiful." He put her hair behind her ear. "Please, believe me, I'm Alex Turner, but it doesn't matter, because you are (Y/N) (Y/LN), the only person I want to be with." (Y/N) stayed silenced. She couldn't believe what he was saying. "Can I kiss you?"
A simple nod from her was enough for Alex to put his mouth on hers. The kiss, which started soft and tender, became desperate, both tongues started a battle. (Y/N)'s hands went from the singer's hair to the buttons of his shirt. Alex started going down (Y/N)'s neck, kissing each part of the skin which wasn't covered, including the skin of her chest. He went back to her mouth, his shirt had disappeared, they were now lying on the couch, she was on him. It was only when he heard the sound of his belt opening when he got separated from the girl.
"What's wrong? Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?" she asked quickly. Alex laughed, touching her face, which had turned now red.
"Everything is fine, (Y/N). But I think it would be better if we take things slowly. I want to do everything right with you, let me take you out on a real date before we do this." (Y/N) smiled at how attentive Alex was.
"Okay, Alex. Whatever you feel is right." Alex stood up, putting on his shirt. "Would you like to stay here? We don't have to sleep together, I can sleep on the sofa."
"It's fine (Y/N), I'll walk home." She stood up as well and walked him to the door. She was the one who started the goodbye kiss. "I'm really happy right now."
"Likewise," she said, smiling. Alex opened the door. "Have a good night."
haven't seen anyone talk about how cousineau and sally were in the crowd with all the people barry killed on the beach yet. when I saw that I wanted to scream because they aren't dead but they are. Barry didn't kill them but he killed who they used to be and it's a circle and they're all crazy and they deserve each other but they deserve better and they are redeemable but they're not because over and over Barry has shown that the only way towards redemption is to actively want it and pursue it and not just want it in theory like Barry, or have opportunity after opportunity to live a peaceful life but always choose revenge like fuches, or to back yourself into the darkness like Sally---you have to actually choose to forgive. You have to choose peace.
pov you just watched the most insane, emotionally gruelling, off the walls batshit crazy thirty minutes of television you've ever seen in your goddamn life
Description (Part One.) Alex Turner x fem!Reader. (Y/N) (Y/LN) is a young and promising publicist in show business. Her work would cause the encounter with the person who would turn her life upside down: Alex Turner. But what happens when love seems to go counterflow? When everything seems inconvenient?
Words: 1,75k.
A/N: A tale of two is a love story and a heartbreak story. Is the story about the struggle of loving in modern times, when it seems like love goes counterflow, fighting for survival. The writing process of A tale of two has lasted five years. This story has grown up with me through my teenage years (and all the problems that come with them). A lot of times in my life this story has been my escape route, and its publication makes me quite nervous. It will probably suffer a lot of reeditions (and it has been numerous the ones it has suffered until now). But it’s a story that I’m deeply proud of. The story structure (of its first part) is clear: each chapter has a point of view. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. You can find the spanish version of this story on my wattpad profile.
Do you wanna be tagged? You just have to ask!
(Y/N).
She felt again that distressed feeling in her throat that made her run to the unknown toilet.
It was the fifth time that night, and she wasn’t sure of what was causing all those visits to the hotel bathroom. She wasn’t sure about anything at that moment, to be honest. And it was something she couldn’t bear with, that feeling of no control, neither outside nor inside her body. It was destroying her, little by little.
She felt again the bile going through her throat. And the tears rolling down her face made images appear in her head, images that she didn’t want to remember. She didn’t want to remember those eyes. And the more she fought those images, more of them appeared. She even felt his hands touching her back.
His eyes appeared in hundreds of scenarios, in hundreds of moments. Those eyes, with their light, those eyes she watched for the first time that morning in London.
Then, she can only ask herself how her life was before she met him. What was the thing that occupied her head 24/7 before her life made a turn of 180 degrees?
The Getaway of The Red Hot Chili Peppers. That was the song playing in her headphones. Her right foot taped on the floor to the rhythm of the drums. There was an old lady in front of her in the coffee shop line who couldn’t decide. The boy at the counter looked at (Y/N) with a smile; he was redhead, tall and skinny, and probably younger than (Y/N). She returned the smile, looking down; even at her age didn’t know how to react when a boy showed some interest. When the old lady finished paying (Y/N) put on pause the Red Hot Chili Peppers song.
“Green tea, medium, please."
The boy nodded, whispering "Right away.” (Y/N) started paying attention to some mail she had just received, they were work-related. They were starting to work on the advertisement for a new movie. She looked at the redhead boy again, he had just left the tea on the counter. (Y/N) handed him her credit card. But he was faster, and said “On the house.” He smiled, almost sure about his new conquest
tiktok is doing the same sort of damage to young adults and teenagers that fox news is doing to boomers. i'd even say tiktok is worse with how influential social media is and how it's beginning to take precedent over actual news.
Note, I am finding these threads on the twitter feeds of ICU nurses who are now dreading the horrors that Roe falling will bring to their hospitals. This, on top of the horrors that they’ve seen and continue to see because of the pandemic. They were already exhausted and hanging by a thread.
Jude, make it bad. @halfofwhatisayismeaningless - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
