Expectation:
Reality:
(Source: theadventureland)
(Source: iditchedfacebookfor)
Some girls want to hear “I’m the Doctor.”
Some prefer “The name is Sherlock Holmes.”
Some even go as far as “I’m Captain Jack Harkness.”
But for a few of us. The few that lurk in the dark.
We long to hear “Jim Moriarty. Hi.”
holy shit guys they’ve actually censored Benedict’s name
Omfg
Don’t censor Benedict’s Cum.
What the fuck did I just say. Otherwise it’s just… Benedict Berbatch.
Benedict Berbatch
I want to do something, right here, right now, to shame them, to make them accountable, to show the Capitol that whatever they do or force us to do there is a par of every tribute they can’t own. That Rue was more than a piece in their Games. And so am I. A few steps into the woods grows a bank of wildflowers. Perhaps they are really weeds of some sort, but they have blossoms in beautiful shades of violet and yellow and white. I gather up an armful and come back to Rue’s side. Slowly, one stem at a time, I decorate her body in the flowers. Covering the ugly wound. Wreathing her face. Weaving her hair in bright colors. They’ll have to show it. Or, even if they choose to turn the cameras elsewhere at this moment, they’ll have to bring them back when they collect the bodies and everyone will see her then and know I did it. I step back and take one last look at Rue. She could really be asleep in that meadow after all. “Bye, Rue,” I whisper. I press the three middle fingers of my left hand against my lips and hold them out in her direction. Then I walk away without looking back.
(Source: katnerds)
Interrupting your dash to bring you some fabulous Barrowman.
i like Moriarty because HE STARTS YELLING MID SENTENCE LIKE PEOPLE ON TUMBLR
what are you talking about thAT”S WHAT PEOPLE DO!
