Brainy is the new sexy.

The Woman, The Whip Hand; Irene Adler. I take things, sometimes without asking, but never unwillingly. You'll beg to give me what I want. Fire can sometimes burn ice cold.

[theboatbuilderswife]

                      ❝ There are OTHER ways to prove your devotion - ❞

requested by: @swcrnprotector

[jimmoriartyisking]

Lara Pulver for Vulkan Magazine April 2018

[lechucitadulce-blog]

[prulock]

“Best supporting actress in a musical nominee Laura Pulver looks glamorous! #OlivierAwards”

[moran-sm]

Lookin’ good, Irene.

[professionallythewoman]

You’d know; you were clearly strangling me at the time...

[sojustincasewedie]

[sky-sparkling-with-diamonds]

[wellarmedwomen-deactivated20181]

[fuckyasadele]

Visit Original Link

Adele - I Miss You (Adele Live 2016)

[captaingingerhair]

[stevenstrange]

get to know me meme // [1/5] favorite female characters // irene adler

“Mr. Holmes, if it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night, would you have dinner with me?”

[cardsharper]

And how the silence surged softly backward

[cardsharper]

“‘Baby’?” He intended a scoff, but it came out more as a bad-tempered mutter. He shoved the key card into the slot on the door and lightly shouldered it open.

He wasn’t much advanced on his unpacking, either. But the imminent creasing of various items of clothing was always a concern, so—after giving the room, en suite and balcony a quick check—he made a start.

At a quarter past seven, he rang up Irene and prompted her towards getting down for dinner. She scolded him for not giving her more notice (what kind of woman do you think I am and do you know how long it takes to fix my hair, God, you idiot) and hung up. James stood blankly staring at the receiver for a few moments after, fancying he could hear her still spitting indignant rhetorical questions to her bathroom mirror from across the corridor. Eventually, he wandered out onto the balcony again, hands in pockets, mulling over the strange turn his path had taken over—the past few months? Last year he’d been unattached, wholly unbothered by being attached. The names Adler and Moran hadn’t been ones in his directory. He wouldn’t have used Moriarty to indicate anyone but himself. London wasn’t ‘home’.

Now…the lax position he’d slid into was unthinkable. 

He went back inside, shivering through the solid wall of arctic air that owned the threshold. He turn the air conditioning off and decided to change his shirt.

[professionallythewoman]

The apathy that Irene had beaten out of herself at a young age was rearing its ugly head. Why would she want to unpack when it was so beautiful outside? She clicked her tongue, internally wincing. In fact, she was also outwardly wincing, because behind closed doors, the dominatrix did not have the inclination to school her cold, neutral facial expression. 

By the time the phone call came, Irene had first procrastinated, but then became overcome with guilt, and condemned herself to unpack her wardrobe. This took some time. But do you know what takes more time, James? My hair.

Either way, she was hungry, and cared less for her appearance when they were abroad, and she was anonymous. Of course, it just wouldn't do to let him know that.

Any attempt to apply heat to her hair was quite fruitless in such humidity, so she made do with pinning half of it up, leaving loose, carefree curls to hang unpunished. Even choosing her dress was less of a chore when her mentality was in this place. In fact, when she really processed the lack of business in this trip, it scared her a little. And if it scares me, James must be hyperventilating. That made her chuckle. Expensive jewelry put a question mark over the whole 'PA' thing, but Irene wholly enjoyed that subtle rebellion. 

So it was only twenty-five minutes later that Irene was knocking on James' door, her features free from annoyance, in favour of a smile. "Maybe you do need a PA. Then I might have had adequate notice to do my hair." She speculated through the wood. 

[professionallythewoman]

So you must Lie upon it

[cardsharper]

It was freezing outside. He’d armed himself with a stray suit jacket over his shirt and under his coat, because he couldn’t stand the cold, not for anything. He switched the radio on as soon as he sat down in the car, taking his time to skip through various stations. He set off to Debussy. It wasn’t really up his street, but it was a hell of a lot better than the white noise of tire on tarmac. Just this once.

James arrived at the location a quarter of an hour down the Thames. It was a small dockland district in between uses; the next three months would see it in a state of decommission. James knew it wouldn’t hurt to give it some company, just this once.

So he’d had Adler taken there. An unextraordinary scene for a person he was coming very close to calling ‘unextraordinary’ herself, just for the indignation he knew it would cause her. She wasn’t unextraordinary, of course. That was half the bloody problem. Half of this particular problem. Any other instance, Irene’s extraordinariness was completely charming. But like all addicts, she didn’t know when to stop. Luckily, James was feeling particularly generous today, and he was more than willing to part with some personal advice: like, when it’s getting on my nerves, don’t do it. When it comes to you stabbing me, don’t fucking do it. He didn’t usually give advice;execution-only brokers were notoriously unhelpful—it was for the sake of an investment, though. It was just one time.

[professionallythewoman]

Years of measured self control had prevented Irene Adler from getting hung over. If she had a drink, it would be enough to have the intended haze, but not enough for the effect to last. She always needed to be alert. 

Therefore, when Irene's eyes blinked open to the darkness, her head was pounding, exposed very suddenly to the symptoms of withdrawal. Her forehead was having an intimate relationship with the concrete floor, dark, tangled hair strewn alongside it. When she endeavored to shift her position, metal made itself known on her wrists. Ah. At least he's had the foresight not to use rope. She briefly considered breaking her thumb, before concluding that it would still be pitch black, and she would still be locked in... Wherever she was. Her arms were bare, coat confiscated. This was probably due to the arsenal it held within its lining and pockets. When she felt for her knife, her suspicions were confirmed. Every weapon she had previously hidden had now been painstakingly removed.

But at least I'm not dead. 

She groaned when she attempted the transition from sprawling-on-the-ground to upright, stretching a few muscles that had previously been cramped. The boot of a car? It certainly felt that way. Her toils gained her a position on her knees, but that was as far up as she could go. A minute or two to catch my breath, and then I'll kill the bastard. This was the promise she made herself, even as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, drawing her gaze what she assumed was the door in the distance. A shiver passed over her.

It's really fucking cold.

[tirairgid]

► Irene Adler, Tim Burton style by bubug

[marlenichen]

"Sex doesn’t alarm me."

"How would you know?"

[professionallythewoman]

~

[notyouraveragesecretary]

+professionallythewoman

"How do you get your hair so floofy?"

[professionallythewoman]

"It takes work. 'Anthea', right?"