Cerveceria - The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway (Plaza de Jesus, 7, Madrid, Spain: Cerveceriascervantes.com)
The Spaniards Inn - Dracula by Bram Stoker (Spaniards Rd, Hampstead, London, UK: thespaniardshampstead.co.uk)
The Newman Arms - 1984 by George Orwell (23 Rathbone Street, Fitzrovia, London, UK: Newmanarms.co.uk)
Jamaica Inn – Jamaica Inn by Daphne du Maurier (Bolventor, Launceston, Cornwall, UK: Jamaicainn.co.uk)
Davy Byrne’s - Ulysses by James Joyce (21 Duke St, Dublin, Ireland: Davybyrnes.com/)
The Grapes - Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens: 76 Narrow St, London, UK: Thegrapes.co.uk)
Le Deux Magots, Paris - Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (6 Place Saint-Germain des Prés, 75006 Paris, France: Lesdeuxmagots.fr)
The Oxford Bar - The Inspector Rebus Series by Ian Rankin (8 Young St, Edinburgh, UK: Oxfordbar.co.uk)
Langham Hotel Bar - Sherlock Holmes Series by Arthur Conan Doyle (1C Portland Pl, London, UK: London.langhamhotels.co.uk)
The Admiral Benbow - Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson (6 Chapel St, Penzance, UK: Theadmiralbenbowpub.co.uk)
I’ve actually stayed at the Langham Hotel! Gorgeous!
OH MY GOD
a girl’s feet will tangle yours under sheets you just bought for a night like this. the price tag is still glued to the plastic wrapping stuffed underneath the bed. her feet are frigid and feel like frostbite against your legs when you fall asleep, but they’re like mittens roasted over a fire when the sun blinks through the curtains.
a girl’s legs are taut and thick. they’re flexible and enclose you in a straightjacket at 2 am when they knot around your waist and pull you just a little closer. if she’s still sleeping, it’s even better.
her thighs will make you forget about your calculus homework and your french exam. they will make you forget about your father’s affair or your best friend’s disorders. they will make you forget your name and they will make you forget who you are without them. hold them as tight as you can. i promise, she loves it.
when you were in fourth grade, they taught you stop, drop, and roll at the sign of a fire. when you’re in her bedroom on the second floor, her quivering hips will trick-start a similar fire in your teeth, and you’re going to want to listen to your fourth grade teacher, but don’t. if you stop, whatever it may be that you’re doing, she might kill you.
so in health class, they’re supposed to teach you that your hands will never fit somewhere like they will on a girl’s waist. it doesn’t matter if it’s wide and soft, or small and hard. your hands will adapt to her waist like the heart to your blood. they’ll feel as natural as fingers on an instrument.
sometimes you can see her ribs; sometimes you can’t. they flicker like an old grainy movie under her skin, and they feel like sharp magma in your palms. they’re structure — they protect her. hold her there if you want her to feel like this house isn’t caving in on herself.
her chest. promise her you’d never want anything more or anything less. if you don’t mean it, stop reading, and find someone else.
taste her collarbone. dip in the crevices and valleys and plant trees at the bottom. root down, cherish the nature, and never ever underestimate a girl’s collarbones. they’re a place to sleep when its -11 outside. write scripts on her collarbone. they are forever.
if you don’t know blueprints to her neck with your eyes closed from tracing it with your mouth, you’re doing it wrong. learn it. memorize it. you better know her pulse like counting with your dominant hand. kiss it like it’s her mouth. her neck will change over time, yes. but make sure you can change with it.
kiss her before she brushes her teeth. make fun of her morning breath. kiss her after, and make fun of the flavor of her toothpaste. kiss her when she’s angry and throwing the vase your mother bought her, and kiss her when she can’t stand and she bubbles over with tears like hot water. kiss her if she’s laughing and tell her it’s because she makes you happy. kiss her if she won’t stop talking because you want to taste her voice. kiss her when she isn’t talking because you miss it. kiss her in the shower and kiss her everywhere. if it’s raining, kiss her, and kiss her again when she calls you a cliche. kiss her in public because you want them all to know, and kiss her in private because you don’t need them to either. god, just kiss her on the mouth. nothing else matters. just fucking kiss her.
The many ways to tie a scarf. I think NYC looks the most difficult but also the cutest. Which one’s your favorite?
Hey Mary Kate! Have you seen this thing/the notes on this thing?
Haha, yes. Apparently I know how to tie scarves. (I don’t)
Apparently people are interested in tying scarves.
I personally love the celebratory actions for tying the scarves correctly.
literally nothing feels better than being loved by someone who hates everyone
[Hans:] Think about it Anna, didn’t it all just seem … too convenient?
[Hans:] All your life had been a series of doors in your face
And then suddenly I bumped into you
[Anna:] You tricked me! You knew
I was hurting my whole life, finding love to chase
[Hans] And maybe you were being desperate and didn’t think it through
[Anna:] How dare you …
[Hans:] But through you
[Hans:] I found my place…
[Anna:] You were a fake…
[Both:] And it’s nothing like I’ve ever known before!
Love is a giant bore!
Love is an unfair war!
Love is a dreary chore!
[Anna:] With you!
[Hans:] With you!
[Anna:] With you!
[Anna:] Love should be so much more…
[Hans:] I mean it’s crazy…
[Hans:] You fell for it just like—
[Anna:] give it a rest!
[Hans:] That’s what I was gonna say!
[Anna:] I’ve never met someone—
[Both:] Who’s so unlike from me!
Jinx! Jinx again!
Our mental synchronization
Can have but one explanation
[Anna:] And I—
[Both:] A story!
[Hans:] Say goodbye…
[Anna:] It’s all lies…
[Hans:] To the pain of the past
I don’t have to feel it anymore!
Love is a cold, dark floor!
Love is a living horror!
Life would be such a snore!
[Anna:] With you!
[Hans:] With you!!
[Anna:] With you!!!
[Hans:] With you!!!!
[Both at the same time:][Hans:] Love is a royal score…[Anna:] Is this what I’ll die for?…
[Hans:] All that’s left now is to kill Elsa, and bring back summer.
[Anna:] You’re no match for Elsa.[Hans:] No. You’re no match for Elsa. I, on the other hand, am the hero who is going to save Arendale from destruction.[Anna:] You won’t get away with this.[Hans:] Oh, I already have.
Can someone PLEASE record this!
I can do Anna if someone does Hans
I hope you fall in love with someone who makes you fall in love with the entire world