london as it could be

anonymous asked:

Yeah if she was in London for any other reason than Tom she could be more open about it - or at least not SO undercover (chartering planes, etc.). & the coincidences of Emmys & other LA same timed LA visits last fall, Thor wrapping/trip to UK, post-Sudan timing of going undercover, & GGs are too many directly connected to Tom to ignore. Is is possible to otherwise explain them? Maybe. But is it plausible & likely? NO - not unless that explanation is Tom! Plus her missing Abi's dress/LBT concert.


lol the concept of dan and phil referring to the place they share together as ‘home’ and where their parents’ live as ‘my parents’ place’ or ‘my parents’ house’ is something that fucks me up every day because they say it so off-handedly and so naturally like…they made a home out of shitty furnitures that they haven’t bothered to change since 2012 and candles and houseplants and plushies and dvds and videogames and photos and paintings and little cracks on the floor and countless of mugs and colorful bright decoration and things that remind the other of each other like what the fuck dan and phil have a home together in london dan and phil have each other as a home what kind of government bullshit is this
A generation of artists were wiped out by Aids and we barely talk about it
A new film about the photographer Robert Mapplethorpe is a shocking and brilliant reminder of the devastation HIV and Aids wreaked – and still does
By Suzanne Moore

Yet there was a time when you could walk around London or New York and see these gaunt faces, marked with sarcomas, and everyone you hung out with was dying. The official culture was in denial. Sometimes it was easier to be. I remember seeing Derek Jarman at a play. At that point he was blind. I didn’t want to see him like that. And then my friend was queer-bashed on the way home. Freddie Mercury died. Keith Haring died. Eazy- E from NWA died. Denholm Elliott died. Rock Hudson died. Fela Kuti died. And my uncle who wasn’t famous or even my actual uncle died. One of my friends lost seven people who were all under 30.”

looking at official bank statements is so weird because you realize dan and phil are a multimillion dollar corporation and actually manage and budget a large business but they’re also the same people who sit on ikea furniture and eat cheap cereal

fallen london // sunless sea player characters, part the second!!! this time featuring all of the ones i have who are developed enough to have names/personalities/designs <33 left to right: 

terault wellsey, one of the first of the lineage of captains to achieve success.  unfortunately his desperate need for money and lack of knowledge of the powers of the zee lead him to accidentally sell out the admiralty to the dawn machine, after which he found his revenue stream much reduced and “”voluntarily”” retired back to london

tierney lynch, the terror of the zee, bearing a whiff of cold salt and candle-smoke.  sailed back into london one day on a ship completely empty of crew but for one strange, sigil-marked man who would not leave the cabins.  she is marked by the well of the chapel of lights. the red hunger lives in her still. 

acantha aurora, minor poet of veilgarden.  in some disgrace still over the matter of a certain play.  she believes in romance, adventure, and hedonism.  somewhat worrisomely involved in the affairs of hell; she has an unhealthy fascination for the devils of the brass embassy.  currently searching for the return of her soul; it’s not going so well. 

sylvia hawthorne (belonging to @spookyopercula), lady by night, working captain by day– or the reverse; it’s so hard to tell in the neath.  her ship is full of miscreants; a wistful deviless keeps her bed warm sometimes.  

tempest field, tierney’s niece and heritor of her wealth, has put to zee in search of herself.  she has found it in the deep jaws and bilious waters of nook.  fey, wild, and more than a little chilly to the touch without wine to warm her; most of tempest’s crew are wary of her, and probably with good reason.

The Little Things


If there was a sound that could sum up London in one word, it would be sirens. They screamed during the night and wailed during the day at any given time. And now one was whizzing by just below Dan’s flat, ruffling you from your peaceful sleep with a mewl of protest. Annoyed, you roll over and nuzzle yourself into the warmth of Dan’s chest. In a last effort to fall back to sleep you squeeze your eyes shut and let the soft, steady breaths from Dan that fall lightly against your neck take you away.

But it is just a few minutes later, right as you feel the soft pull of sleep finally begin to lull you back into darkness, that yet another police car flashes by on the street under you, its relentless cry bouncing off the brick walled flat and bringing you back to the morning.

You let out another growl of disapproval and burrow closer to Dan, making sure to pull the covers above your head. Soon you curl into a ball, hiding from the irritating sounds of Britain. You feel Dan’s chest move with a chuckle.

“You’re so cute,” he says in a gruff, guttural morning voice that sends a flutter to your stomach. You can hear the grin in his voice, and soon see it when you immerge from under the duvet. You are met with his big brown eyes staring down at you, his ruffled bedhead propped up with one hand as an adoring grin dimples his cheeks.

“Good morning,” you smirk sheepishly back at him.

He wraps an arm around your waist and brings his forehead to yours. You are so close you can see how the light that peaks through Dan’s curtains plays into his irises, mixing the light shades of hazel into the darker hues of chocolatey brown. “Sorry the alarms woke you,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss to your nose.

Your grin sprouts into a full-blown smile as a blush curls into your cheeks. All you can do is stare up at him, marveling at the way the gray light of the early morning plays off his features, dazzling his pale skin and setting fire to his eyes.

“How was your sleep?” he asks, settling the two of you back down into the warmth of the covers.

You hum, closing your eyes as you lay your head onto his chest, listening to the rhythmic calm of his heartbeat. “Excellent,” you sigh, recalling the thrills and peaks of last night with another grin.

You feel his chest vibrate with another chuckle, and you give a titter of a laugh along with him. “Mine was amazing as well,” he purrs against the shell of your ear. “I spent it with the most wonderful person.” He begins rubbing gentle circles and random patterns over your skin, his fingers trailing ghosts of a touch across your arms, little designs scrawled here and there over your back.

“What time is it?” you ask, head lifting just a few inches from his chest.

You hear his straining grunt of effort as he twists around to reach for his phone. He squints his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness of his phone. “Ten in the morning,” he groans, tossing his phone somewhere onto the bed.

You look back up to him from his chest. Gently he moves down to reach your lips with his, bringing you in tenderly against him. Your lips barely graze at first, just a light brush. Until he nudges his head forward against you and you feel his tongue touch the sensitive skin of your lips, asking softly for entrance. And just as he enters your mouth, he mutters against your lips, “What do you want to do today?”

You let out a soft breath of a laugh as he rolls over on top of you, careful to support himself above you so he isn’t crushing you. The sheets and duvet are tangled around your bodies. “Whatever you want.”  And with that he pours the rest of himself into the kiss, his skin melding together with yours as if the two of you are made for just this. Lips, tongue, and teeth all mold against each other in passion. He just begins to trail his attention away from your mouth to your cheek, to your jawline, and only beginning to concentrate on your neck as the sound of your stomach growling interrupts you.

You feel him smile against you, his lips raising from your skin as a breath of a laugh blows lightly over your neck. “I think maybe breakfast is in order,” he whispers, leaving a peck of a kiss against your clavicle as he raises himself from you. He places another kiss to your stomach, his dark brown eyes staring up at you. “Hate to keep a pretty thing like you hungry.”

You both giggle as the two of you stumble out of bed. The wintry air of the flat is there to greet you as always. In search for the nearest shirt, you stumble around the room. You let out a huff. Where were the ones from last night? Your eyes trail to Dan.

He sits grinning from the end of the bed, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he obviously enjoys the sight of you bare before him. Your gaze drifts from his smug face to what he holds in his hands. His wadded up shirt from last night.

“Plan on handing that over?” You quirk an eyebrow and place both hands on your hips.

He chuckles, raising an eyebrow back at you. “I don’t know. I quite like this look,” he shrugs, eyes falling over your body slowly.

“Well, I don’t know if your flat mate would enjoy walking in on this look,” you reply, a grin toying at the edges of your lips. “Plus, it’s freezing, Dan!”

Another deep chuckle and a wolfish smile and he rises from the bed, limbering toward you. “I know something that could warm you right up,” he purrs, wrapping his arms around you in a big bear hug.

You let out a giggle as he lifts you from the ground so you’re level with him. You stare deeply into his eyes, trying your best to keep the smile from your face. “Daniel James Howell!” you squeal as he places sloppy kisses over your neck.

He laughs as well, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “God, I love you.” He gently sets you down and hands over his shirt.

“I love you, too,” you say as you tug his oversized shirt over your head. It looks more like a dress, the hem falling mid-thigh. But you love it. His eclipse shirt smells just like him, the fabric soft and just big enough to feel like a hug. “Now let’s see if we can find anything in that fridge of yours.”

He follows you to the kitchen, his eyes no doubt trailing to your butt the whole time, admiring the way his clothes looked so adorable on you, like a nightgown.

You find just a few eggs left in the carton and decide to cook that. As the eggs sizzle down in the pan you feel Dan’s arms wrap themselves around your waist from behind, his head resting comfortably atop yours. His hand enwrap over yours and you soon begin to cook your breakfast together.

The serene sound of the morning, the faint chirp of birds from the bare trees outside the window, the distant sound of those damned sirens, and the sizzle of the eggs in the pan all filled you with the warmth of home. This had become your home. And it was the most comfortable thing in the world, like the final piece of your puzzle slipping into place. You could spend the rest of your life like this.

Both of you turn your heads when you hear a small chuckle from the doorway. Phil stands there, a shy smile on his face and his hair just as messy as Dan and yours must be. “Well, good morning, lovebirds. I see the two of you have set out together to create a marvelous breakfast.”

Dan chuckles against you and the two of you chorus a “good morning, Phil” as you stir the eggs again.

The three of you devour the breakfast together, all sat around the table, Dan’s ankle hooked around yours as a blissful conversation drifts among you. The hum of traffic drones below as a background. Every now and then Dan’s eyes travel back to you, love and adoration radiating off of him as he grins at you. His fingers play with yours under the table, toying with the simple string he’d tied around your index finger a few months ago, just a little mark, a little reminder that you were his and he was yours. As all of this was, it was simple and it was full of love. It was pure.

INTERVIEWER: You could go back to Victorian London; you could have more things set in [Sherlock’s] Mind Palace where he’s going back–
GATISS: [interrupting] Well remember – it’s *not* just his Mind Palace [in TAB].
Mycroft says it explicitly – ‘It’s a memory technique.’
In both occasions where we’ve gone *into* it – in 'His Last Vow’ he’s been shot, and he’s obviously doped to the eyeballs.
And in 'The Abominable Bride’, he’s all – he’s *high*.
So it’s much – it’s a *particular* thing.
We could do it [go back to the Victorian setting] of course, but he’d have to… take a seven-percent solution. Or more.

Mark Gatiss

(The Abominable Bride Post-Mortem interview, March 2016 [x])

[ Skulls & Tea | Sherlock Creator Quotes Collection | Disclaimer/reblogs ]


“If David Bowie could be here tonight … he probably wouldn’t be here tonight.” Hall said while accepting the award.

Michael C. Hall at the Brit Awards, February 22, 2017

At the 2017 Brit Awards on Wednesday night, David Bowie received the honor of best male solo artist for his 2016 album, Blackstar.

Accepting the award on behalf of the late singer was actor Michael C. Hall. Hall starred on Broadway last year in the musical Lazarus, based on Bowie’s 1976 film The Man Who Fell to Earth, and has performed tributes to Bowie in the past, including a performance at the 2016 Mercury Prize ceremony.


posh residential areas of england gothic
  • you are in queen’s court. you were supposed to be in queen’s lane - or was it queen’s road? you see a sign pointing you towards queen’s street, and you realise you no longer know where you are or where you should be. you fall to your knees, hopelessly lost in this queen’s maze.
  • “private road”, says the traffic sign. “no entrance.” looking down the road, you see it’s fully signalled, with lights, signs and markings on the asphalt. however, it seems to lead to nowhere and you never see anyone using it. you wonder about the mysteries of the private road.
  • walking past a row of houses, you see how neatly the hedges have been cut into walls. a bit too neatly, in fact; all of them blend together and become nearly featureless green rectangles. you feel like you’re in a computer simulation with low-poly graphics, and for a second you doubt the reality of everything around you.
  • you walk past a church. it is old and grandiose, truly a historical relic. a couple of blocks later, you walk past a church. it is old and grandiose. truly a historical relic. you turn to another street and walk past a church. it is old and grandiose, truly a historical relic.

There was something very interesting on the podcast (watch here) so I’m transcribing it: 

 “You’ve asked wether or not you can go back to the unterzee. The journey to the High Wilderness is a very interesting and dangerous one and it’s usually one-way. The way the time works in the High Wilderness is very different from how it works in the Neath and how it works in our world. So there’s no real way of knowing what you would be going back to. So it’s not to say NEVER NO WAY, but I do know that it would be a challenge.”

(Hannah then mentioned that that doesn’t mean nothing ever comes back from the HW, as seen in some of the latest FL stories)

(this was posted from an early production podcast and it’s subject to change)

“(Left) Honestly, my girlfriend disappeared in London too. It was nighttime, and I was so flustered that I started to cry. But then some lady saw me crying and asked if I needed help. Since I thought that getting help from a passerby would just turn into a public nuisance, I said that I was fine. But she grabbed my hand and said this to me: ‘Throughout your life, from time to time, you’re going to have to accept help from strangers.’ When I heard those words, I really began to like London. It was amazing that I could get help even in an unfamiliar city.”
“(Right) Wait, what? This the first time I’m hearing this.”

“(왼쪽) 사실 런던에서도 여자친구가 없어졌어요. 밤이었고, 당황스러워서 눈물이 나더라구요. 그런데 어떤 아주머니가 제 모습을 보고 도와주겠다고 하시는 거예요. 저는 평소에 남한테 도움을 받는 게 민폐라고 생각해서 괜찮다고 말씀을 드렸거든요. 그런데 제 손을 잡고 이렇게 얘길 하셨어요. ‘살다가 때때로는 남들의 도움을 받아야 할 때가 있단다’ 그 말을 듣는 순간 런던이 너무 좋아졌어요. 이런 낯선 도시에서도 사람들의 도움을 받을 수가 있다니.”
“(오른쪽) 뭐야. 나는 처음 듣는 얘긴데?”