Raven lunatics

♥ 1020 — 7 months ago on 04 Mar 2014 — via laurensapplelah (source)

iamsotiredofbeingsad:

Sooooo gaaaay
They’re wearing the same clothes ❤

♥ 113 — 7 months ago on 04 Mar 2014 — via laurensapplelah (source)
thetempest9:

dillyboys-inmyroom:

x

Miles + Alex

thetempest9:

dillyboys-inmyroom:

x

Miles + Alex

♥ 4518 — 7 months ago on 04 Mar 2014 — via hotnessofjulianc (source)
♥ 7674 — 8 months ago on 20 Feb 2014 — via alexchurner (source)
♥ 4307 — 8 months ago on 20 Feb 2014 — via omalleyandcook (source)
rebels-on-acid:

sxdparadise:

 

 

rebels-on-acid:

sxdparadise:

 

 

♥ 150394 — 8 months ago on 18 Feb 2014 — via rebels-on-acid (source)

Change your tune and change your hair
Or you’re not going anywhere

♥ 56879 — 8 months ago on 18 Feb 2014 — via themgmtpolice (source)

anyone know how to meet artists after a show at MSG? Going to see AM…and it must be done…

8 months ago on 08 Feb 2014
♥ 2229 — 10 months ago on 19 Dec 2013 — via reptillian-complex (source)

theywerejusttwofucksinlust:

THERE ARE TEARS IN MY EYES

♥ 864 — 2 years ago on 16 Aug 2012 — via annkills (source)

Song: A Choice Of Three
Artist: Alex Turner
Album: Late Night Tales
Played: 8767 times

Alex Turner - A Choice Of Three. Spoken word piece written and recited by Alex Turner (from Late Night Tales: Matt Helders, 2008)


In the tunnel I noticed I had a choice of three. While I thought it very kind of them to offer me this, I do wonder if they realized what a dilemma they were sending to face me.
The trouble was, if I looked at your reflection in the left window I missed the actual image of you and your reflection in the right. And if I looked in the right I had the same problem but the other way around.
At first I thought I should probably settle on one of the mirrors as they were soon to disappear, but that idea quickly wilted, and my attention was drawn back to the center, occasionally checking on either side.
I must say I did question the authenticity of your nap a few minutes before. As the train left Loughborough I suspected it could’ve been a device to avoid conversation. I’d barely considered this for a moment, however, when a heavy breath and a gulping sound that I decided would be too embarrassing to fake led me to conclude that your nap wasn’t fraudulent.
I found it difficult to concentrate on anything else as you slumped beneath your coat. Delighted that we’d waited until this hour to travel so the evening sun got its opportunity to skip across those sleeping cheeks, but unnerved by the prospect of being removed from the opposing chair to yours. I knew it was reserved but hoped that whoever had reserved it had fallen over.
It looked as if today I’d be safe. The train wasn’t too busy but I did take a moment to recall the time when I was less fortunate.
I remmebered it with a chilling vivivity we were on the way to Brighton.
I knew it was going to be his seat as soon as I saw him on the platform, unzipping, checking, zipping, and rechecking things. Something about his face suggested that he had for years had a mustache and had not long since removed it. He wasn’t going to think twice about disposing of me, especially considering then he’d get the chance to sit with you.
Though his hiking boot-march through the carriage was rather revolting, it wasn’t this that made my hands tense up into sour claws of nausea. It was the way he said it.
“You’re in my seat.”
No “excuse me,” no polite uncertainty, just the rigid, hideous fact. The thud with which it landed expelled all my preparation. Before I remembered my plans to pretend to be asleep, deaf, French, or only sat there because someone was in my seat, I was walking to find another vacancy.
I ended up dwelling unhappily beside a girl with a boys bum. I knew that because she walked too far past when she returned to one of what I thought to be two empty seats when I sat myself there. I fidgeted until our reunion on the platform, where you brutally informed me “That man was really rather pleasant, actually.”
Today I thought I’d better make sure that couldn’t happen again and I pulled the ticket from the top of my seat. It took a few attempts and the facade of hanging a jacket to finally complete. I was terribly cautious. There’s a threat of punishment for such deeds by fine as far as I understand, but those shackles were at the back of my mind as I crushed the reservation in my hidden fist. Folding and squeezing as if it were that beast on the way to the seaside.
Fortunately, there was no retribution. If anything the train got quieter as the journey continued.
And so in the tunnel, unable to decide, my head flicked through this trilogy of angles, angel after angle, until we were out the other side.
My frantic twitching no doubt caused the man at the adjacent table to narrow his eyes at the very least, I imagine.
I don’t know for sure.
I didn’t have time to add him to the cycle.

♥ 1814 — 2 years ago on 29 Jul 2012 — via alexchurner (source)

cocaine-joe:

It’s all fun and games until someone writes an Alex Turner/ Queen Elizabeth II fic.

♥ 450 — 2 years ago on 28 Jul 2012 — via lifeissimpleinthemoonlight (source)
sugarandalcohol:

shes-thunderstorms:

I have to reblog as this cracks me up, I always think:Alex : Fuuuuck! Guitar?! What are you doing?! Control yourself. Woah there

hahahaha omg
The guitar is possessing his body!!

sugarandalcohol:

shes-thunderstorms:

I have to reblog as this cracks me up, I always think:

Alex : Fuuuuck! Guitar?! What are you doing?! Control yourself. Woah there

hahahaha omg

The guitar is possessing his body!!

♥ 746 — 2 years ago on 09 Apr 2012 — via vickygonda (source)
♥ 418 — 2 years ago on 10 Jan 2012 — via brianfrombrianstorm-deactivated (source)
♥ 1417 — 2 years ago on 23 Dec 2011 — via thatswhaticalllove (source)