Hands down my favorite scene. Possibly of the entire series. John’s face. Sherlock’s face. Done.
Setting sex or the lack thereof aside for a moment, no one will ever convince me that this moment isn’t two people falling completely in love with one another. They both look so amazed, like they can’t quite believe what they’re seeing. Is this person real? How, after a whole lifetime of people who are not Sherlock and not John, can they suddenly exist?
And the way each one of them responds is just perfect. John laughs, genuinely, the tension completely gone from around his eyes and forehead for the first time since he came back to London.
Sherlock laughs too but then he bites his lip, hesitates for a moment, because this is something new, because friends aren’t his area and he hasn’t asked someone to spend time with him for the simple sake of spending time together, no ulterior motive, no strategy, just wanting to be together, in the most straightforward, literal, sense of the phrase, since probably before adolescence.
And while their smiles and expressions quieten, they keep the same openness, so that when each turns to glance at the other, observing, making sure he’s still there, marveling, maybe, they don’t look away or get embarrassed the way you do when someone catches you staring. Because for some reason these two men with trust issues, who always, always protect themselves, have decided to put their faith in one another. Instead they lock eyes for a moment of agreement and understanding before looking forward and going along their way, completely assured of, and by, the other’s continued presence.
I fully believe that Sherlock and John are soul mates. Whether their relationship is platonic, romantic, or sexual is irrelevant. They’re two people who complete each other, and are just meant to be together.
Ten million thousand bazillion percent THIS!
Oh my God. This is brilliant. Thank you. THANK YOU
We’re all stories in the end
"You are a woman. Skin and bones, veins and nerves, hair and sweat. You are not made of metaphors. Not apologies, not excuses."
MelVFitness posted this image on instagram a few days ago with the following caption:
"Check out my transformation! It took me 15 minutes. Wanna know my secret? Well firstly I ditched the phonewallet cause that shit is lame, swapped my bather bottoms to black (cause they’re a size bigger & black is slimming), smothered on some fake tan, clipped in my hair extensions, stood up a bit taller, sucked in my guts, popped my hip- threw in a skinny arm, stood a bit wider #boxgap, pulled my shoulders back and added a bit of a cheeky “I’m so proud of my results” smile. Zoomed in on the before pic- zoomed out on the after & added a filter. Cause filters make everything awesome.
What’s my point? Don’t be deceived by what you see in magazines & on Instagram. You never see the dozens of other pics they took that weren’t as flattering.”
This is amazing.
Back in London. Home, sweet home! :)
I enjoyed my stay in Southend with my parents, it was nice. But after a week or so I always find myself missing London.
I consider myself to be a Londoner, but when I express to my friends that I consider it ‘home’, a lot of them are surprised. I’ve lived here for the last 5 years, but what many of them don’t realise is that I was also born here, and lived here for the first 4 years of my life. Everyone assumes I was born in Essex because it’s where I grew up. I certainly don’t think being in London made a lasting impression on me in those first four years - but knowing that my life started in this city has had a big impact on me since. Perhaps I convinced myself that the buzz I get from being in London is because I belong here, and I justified it later. I live here, study here, work here, play here. My friends are here, not in Essex. My family are… not here, but close enough. I think it’s best that there’s a bit of distance. My brother still lives in Southend and says having my Mum ‘pop round’ unannounced can be a little overbearing.
Eh, I don’t know. I don’t care. This is my home, and I’m back :D
My folks are coming up to visit tonight and we’re going to another Prom at the Royal Albert Hall - composers tonight are Prokofiev, Tchaikovsky & Wagner. I’m really looking forward to it :)
I’ve been looking through the setlock photos from yesterday and part of me is flopping around in anguish that I didn’t come back in time and go along. My interest in all things Benedict Cumberbatch still annoys me.
But I have more pressing matters to attend to, like passing these exams. We were emailed our timetable for intro week of year 5. It’s all talk of FPAS Applications and Situational Judgement Testing and Prescribing Exams. It’s like.. shit just got real. But I can’t allow myself to enjoy it until I know I’ve passed these exams. This is the worst time - the period of a few days just before an exam… not long enough to learn much more, and a sudden drop off in motivation… a sort of calm acceptance knowing what you face, mixed with the blind panic of knowing the consequences of failing.
Huh. Time to get ready and stop overthinking.
That’s 100% true.
"Let go, or be dragged."
Zoe Smith can lift twice her body weight, set a British record for women’s weightlifting, and really doesn’t care if you find her attractive or not.
…we don’t lift weights in order to look hot, especially for the likes of men like that. What makes them think that we even WANT them to find us attractive? If you do, thanks very much, we’re flattered. But if you don’t, why do you really need to voice this opinion in the first place, and what makes you think we actually give a toss that you, personally, do not find us attractive? What do you want us to do? Shall we stop weightlifting, amend our diet in order to completely get rid of our ‘manly’ muscles, and become housewives in the sheer hope that one day you will look more favourably upon us and we might actually have a shot with you?! Cause you are clearly the kindest, most attractive type of man to grace the earth with your presence.
Oh but wait, you aren’t. This may be shocking to you, but we actually would rather be attractive to people who aren’t closed-minded and ignorant. Crazy, eh?! We, as any women with an ounce of self-confidence would, prefer our men to be confident enough in themselves to not feel emasculated by the fact that we aren’t weak and feeble.
And here’s some food for thought – maybe you should broaden your criteria for what you consider ‘attractive’ anyway, because these perfect, feminine women you speak of probably have no interest in you either.
(photo from Feministing)
Daaaaaaamn, go on gurl.
Also she could kick your ass.
tupperware more like tupperWHERE THE FUCK IS THE LID