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#Sherlock Communications
dimensiontotal · 1 day
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Por malas traducciones, las empresas extranjeras pierdan hasta 46 mil MDD en ventas en línea
El 77% de los latinoamericanos se ha abstenido de comprar a empresas internacionales por 'errores evitables' en los sitios web. Cuatro de cada diez personas evitaron hacer clic en anuncios en línea debido a malas traducciones a su idioma nativo.
El 77% de los latinoamericanos se ha abstenido de comprar a empresas internacionales por ‘errores evitables’ en los sitios web. Cuatro de cada diez personas evitaron hacer clic en anuncios en línea debido a malas traducciones a su idioma nativo. Con aproximadamente 300 millones de compradores en línea, América Latina se está convirtiendo rápidamente en una de las regiones más prometedoras del…
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dergarabedian · 1 year
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Sol Lopatin y sus novedades del año viejo 2022
Sol Lopatin y sus novedades del año viejo 2022
Las siguientes respuestas forman parte de la encuesta “Las novedades del año viejo 2022”. Más información sobre esta encuesta aquí. (more…)
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alexxuun · 9 months
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There’s a connection somewhere…
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just-being-aroace · 2 months
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What happens with aroace coded characters in fandoms that really annoys me:
Frodo Baggins: never involved in a relationship, loves his friends — fandom: he’s so in love with Sam, he even lets him and his family live with him
Bilbo Baggins: never married, dedicates his life to writing, adopts Frodo and loves him like a son — fandom: I ship him with Thorin so much
Sherlock Holmes: dedicated his life to his work, very loyal to his friends, never married or had a real relationship — fandom: he’s in love with Irene! He’s in love with John!
Aziraphale & Crowley: canonically ace according to the book, poster characters for a qpr — fandom: why don’t they just f**k? Why don’t they just k**s? This is queerbaiting!
There are probably more examples because it’s definitely a pattern.
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starfruitsomething · 2 months
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I don't care if they never kissed- Johnlock could not be more canon.
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frenchy-wino-jerkface · 10 months
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So, I was a queer teenager about fifteen years ago. Fifteen years doesn't seem like much, but in TV History, fifteen years is not even BBC Sherlock times yet. So, in Queer TV History, it's basically like comparing modern times to the XVIIIth century : there was the beginning of an idea of equality and justice, but we were clearly not there yet.
The sort-of-gay pairings I saw on TV didn't end up together, or only in some niche content I couldn't get my hands on on national television - and that was where we watched shows at the time. Sometimes they were gay-coded, but what happened most of the time was : the queerest one of the pair ended up alone, living his best quirky-lonely life, while the most straight-passing found a spouse and a respectable straight marriage.
At the same time, I was falling in love with my very queer best friend. These were scary times, we were kids. When she ended up rejecting me and running off, not speaking to me again and going into straight relationships, I felt like I deserved it. That experience, plus the way I saw myself on television, shaped the way I saw my love life. Like I couldn't truly get one.
Now, shows have changed. Shows are queer, and watched by everyone. There isn't just one sort-of gay relationship on the screen, there are several in the same show! And they fall in love, and kiss, and break up, and get back together, and are shown being gentle and loving and couples! Actual couples. I still have to pinch myself sometimes. Before they get together, and despite the entire show screaming at me that it's gay, I still feel like I'm getting queerbaited. I brace myself, I wait for the unavoidable rejection and pain and loss. And yeah, sometimes it's dramatic. But it's always real now. They kiss. They love each other. There's no shame in that anymore.
Damn.
I wonder what it would have done to me and my best friend if we'd seen these shows fifteen years ago. How different I'd be today. I'm a bit sad that I didn't get that, that I was shaped so differently by contents that wanted to make me feel like I didn't quite belong, that I didn't quite deserve to be happy.
I'm sure excited for you younger lots, though. Have fun <3
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ham0705 · 3 months
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i started listening to sherlock&co. and couldn’t help but make a crossover fanart
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sweeterthansucrose · 8 months
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Gay people can't flirt properly. It's always something like:
'Punch me in the face.'
'Punch you?'
'Yes, punch me, in the face, didn't you hear me?'
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cashthecomposer · 11 months
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Be sure to tag with the series you're rating, and reblog for sample size!!!
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Finishing a good show after binge watching it for weeks is freaking torture, like how am I supposed to fill my days now?
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Happy Pride month to some of my favorite gay couples
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ofbakerst · 9 months
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a spot of amateur burglary
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order-research65 · 22 hours
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itsonlytext · 4 months
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Quiet Days
It was so unlike Sherlock to follow the tide, to knuckle under, to allow such menial phrases such as ‘quiet days’ to slip out of his mouth. Defying those social standards and refusing to submit to them was what differentiated him from others, gave him his title, made John even look his way the first time that they met.
no warnings, just some complicated feelings and overall a very queer scene >1000 words.
(if it better suits you, here's the ao3 link to this one-shot.)
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Sherlock had imagined it more than he was (ever) willing to admit:
The heat of their skin blending into sighs, the tugs, the way their names would roll off of each other’s tongues and melt onto their skin, sink into their core and erupt a blinding light - so hot and demanding that they wouldn’t care about the amenities of keeping each other hidden until night, so deliciously shameless that they would proudly bask in the afternoon sunlight until the heat of their bodies were indefinitely hotter than the sun itself.
He gazed at the sight in front of him - John, (Oh God, John.) ever so content in his patterned armchair, gazing at the bright screen of his laptop with tired eyes. It was a sight he was used to seeing whenever a quiet day doomed Baker Street and the detective would leave the front steps of his mind palace and open his eyes with an arduous sigh. John would always be there, always so calm, always sitting with his laptop open, feet (slightly) stretched out, arms (sometimes) crossed over his chest. Sherlock always wondered what he was looking at, reading, watching. Whatever it was, whatever was drawing John’s eyes away from him, he hated it.
Sherlock’s ears pricked with a thought.
Experiment: Record himself working - simply working over a case in the lab at St. Bart’s hospital for exactly ninety minutes and in silence. Then, write an entire dissertation about himself - anatomical habits, childhood events and/ trauma accompanying the result of an in-depth MRI of his own brain (something to elicit interest in the doctor if it hasn’t been drawn already). When John isn’t paying attention (eating, watching Jeremy Kyle, sleeping, on an unsuccessful date), he will upload the video and dissertation onto John’s laptop. That way, no matter if John has decided he will spend his quiet day on his laptop, he will still be focused on Sherlock - still looking, reading, watching - honouring him with the attention he wants. (Needs.)
Reminder: Make sure to inform Molly that he will, at some point, require a camera and the lab.
For now, Sherlock sat quietly the way he always did on quiet days.
He was sure that he never believed in quiet days. If he did, he hated them. Or he once hated them. Over time, as he allowed the quiet to hold him down, force him to stop moving and sink deep into his bones, Sherlock realised that perhaps he could allow them to pass every now and then without sparking a fuss whenever they did.
Quiet days, Sherlock thought to himself as John shuffled in his seat, his eyes still glued to his laptop (and not the detective), how pitiful they could be.
The term was planted by Mrs Hudson, who would climb up the stairs with a knowing smile and a tray of fresh tea as she whispered, ‘it’s awfully quiet today,’ or ‘today’s going to be nice and quiet, I can tell’. It was then germinated by John, who always agreed with her as he’d gratefully pick up a biscuit from her tray and reply, ‘yes, I think so, couldn’t come sooner,’ or ‘definitely a quiet day today, Mrs Hudson’.
Sherlock somehow watered it without wanting to - he always knuckled under John, even whilst simultaneously convincing himself it was the other way around. At some point (he didn’t know when), he had also started to refer to these days as ‘quiet days’.
It was so unlike Sherlock to follow the tide, to knuckle under, to allow such menial phrases such as ‘quiet days’ to slip out of his mouth. Defying those social standards and refusing to submit to them was what differentiated him from others, gave him his title, made John even look his way the first time that they met.
John (oh God, John).
When would he realise that he was being stared (gazed) at?
It was all Sherlock ever did on quiet days. It was all he knew to do, eventually morphing into instinct whenever quiet would bless Baker Street. He knew it was the result of conditioning, a simple failure on his part - to pair one with the other. John, quiet days. He couldn’t tell the difference anymore. (Perhaps not so much a failure.)
John hadn’t noticed the staring (admiring), not even as he took a sip of Mrs Hudson’s tea or a bite from an overly sweet biscuit.
Update ongoing experiment: Now the thirty-second instance that his staring (treasuring) has gone unnoticed by John. When would he realise? Sherlock suspects in due time, perhaps when the next quiet day comes. (False hope - another seed unconsciously watered due to John.)
The detective, having barely moved since the morning, tucked that ongoing experiment in the deep confines of his mind palace - now archived, dormant, always ticking.
He went back to adoring John (oh God, John).
John - a much simpler word, much easier to accept than the existence of a quiet day. Quiet day - two extra and redundant syllables, much more difficult to knuckle under. But without having tolerated its existence or going the full ridiculous length of three syllables, Sherlock never would have discovered John, he knew that.
John (oh God, John).
He wouldn’t mind letting that syllable slip out of his mouth every now and then.
“John.”
Sherlock savoured the way his head snapped up with a hum, so quick to respond to the deep, baritone voice that called him.
He cleared his throat and shuffled. “Yeah?”
“Quiet day,” Sherlock replied plainly, his eyes gazing at the desk and wandering over the tea and food Mrs Hudson had left for them that morning.
John watched him for a moment, a gentle smile tugging his lips as he watched the detective’s deeply contemplative face and wondered what he was thinking about.
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onceinawhilemoon · 2 months
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So you're meaning to tell me.. that even while running the house, running intelligence for the Crown, taking care of his ailing mother and Sherlock, overseeing Otto and his treatment of Violet.. Mycroft still found time in his insanely busy schedule to put together an elaborate puzzle/treasure hunt for Sherlock that spans far and wide across Cordona simply because his little brother told him he was bored??? Get out of here im done with him
(ilhsm)
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benrybenrybenry-chr · 9 months
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my favorite holmes and Watson adaptations are always like-
the best and most accurate versions of themselves to the book renditions and frequently regarded as the best Sherlock Holmes adaptations ever
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and
these two fucks I found off the street. they are like street rats to me. endearing street rats.
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