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So basically, 95% of the reason I would want to be rich and/or famous would be just so I could meet and become friends with the flawless people I sit and look at on my screen.
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Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poemAnd he called it “Chops” ...
Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it “Chops”
because that was the name of his dog
And that’s what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X’s
and he had to ask his father what the X’s meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do itOnce on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it “Autumn”
because that was the name of the season
And that’s what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it “Innocence: A Question”
because that was the question about his girl
And that’s what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle’s Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyways
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundlyThat’s why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it “Absolutely Nothing”
Because that’s what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom doorbecause this time he didn’t think
he could reach the kitchen.
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theavengersshouldnttext: Tony Stark: pepper code light...
Tony Stark: pepper code light purple
Pepper Potts: What is it this time?
Tony Stark: hes crying
Tony Stark: hes crying because of a commercial about sad animals the fuck do i do
Pepper Potts: Calm down. He’s from the 40’s, did you expect him to be used to shock value television yet?
Tony Stark: HE IS CRYING ON MY SWEATER
Pepper Potts: HONESTLY
Tony Stark: MAKE IT STOP
Pepper Potts: JUST HOLD HIM, STARK
Tony Stark: donate at least 1000000$ to the ASPCA
Tony Stark: so this NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN
Pepper Potts: Will that be all, Mr. Stark?
Tony Stark: Thank you ms potts
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daftwithoneshoe: It is the general fan consensus that if John...
It is the general fan consensus that if John is the heart, then Sherlock is the brain, which would suggest that if John is filling in for Sherlock’s skull, then he is acting as Sherlock’s protector.
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paperpapermustache: Heh.
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bosimba: help ive fallen for a fictional character and i cant get up
help ive fallen for a fictional character and i cant get up
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cubonespeaks: fannishminded: molotov-rocket: “I know what you...
“I know what you are, Sherlock.”
“…Say it.”
“…The world’s first consulting detective.”
BAHAHAAHAHA
Oh god- this fandom! Damnit you make me almost want to read the Twilight books so I can make some Twilock… Almost.
As it is reading the full meshed Twilock sometimes hurts like holywater to my sinful flesh- and yet it hurts so good at the same time…
The pain is penance?
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jessicaandthedeathlyhallows: So, today I saw a man and a woman holding hands in public, I mean, I...
So, today I saw a man and a woman holding hands in public, I mean, I don’t have anything against heterosexuality but don’t flaunt it in front of me, think of the kids. omfg.
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Robert Pattinson insulting Twilight:
He’s creeped out by the book, and its author, Stephenie Meyer:
“When I read it … I was convinced that Stephenie was convinced that she was Bella, and … It was like it was a book that wasn’t supposed to be published, like reading her - her sort of sexual fantasy about some - especially when she says that it was based on a dream, and it’s like, ‘Oh, then I had a dream about this really sexy guy’ and she just writes this book about it, and there’s some things about Edward that are just so specific that … I was just convinced that this woman is mad, she’s completely mad, and she’s in love with her own fictional creation.
“And I sometimes … Feel uncomfortable reading this thing, and I think a lot of people feel the same way, that it’s kind of voyeuristic … It creates this sick pleasure in a lot of ways.”
(From a 2008 video interview with E!Online, which has been widely quoted but since removed.)
“Girls often say that Edward’s ‘sooo perfect,’ but he’s not. I do not like people who try to exert control in a relationship, when there is an imbalance. This is very wrong and very strange.”
- Last month, at a Q&A in Brussels.
“… The more I read the script, the more I hated this guy, so that’s how I played him, as a manic-depressive who hates himself.”
- October 2008, to Empire magazine
He thinks the Breaking Dawn plot is ludicrous:
“Have sex, demon baby. No, they get married first, demon baby, Jacob falls in love with the little baby [laughs], then everyone tries to kill each other, but nothing happens. Oh, that’s the second one [laughs even harder].”- July, at ComicCon.
And - horror - he mocks the highly-anticipated sex scene. (For non-Twihards: in the book, Edward gets fairly rough on honeymoon, and hates himself for hurting Bella.)
“I wanted to have it as a line so much. [He switches to an ‘Edward’ accent] ‘I bit through all the pillows. Every. Single. One.’ And then he’d start crying. By the way, that’s what he should be ashamed of in the morning. All those beautiful pillows! Egyptian cotton! (Laughs) ‘I ruined this bed!’”
I have a hard time explaining to people that I hate Twilight but I love Robert Pattinson.
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blanketforyourshock: daftwithoneshoe: Subtlety is not one...
Subtlety is not one Sherlock’s better talents.
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JAAAAM. WHEREFORE ART THOU JAM. Hi. Jennine told you to ask me a question but you didn't. [-( I THOUGHT WE HAD SOMETHING, JAM. BUT NOOOOO, NO WE DID NOT. Ktnxbye.
Kidding. HAHAHHAHA. Hi “Kim” :) *ahem*Jennine*ahem* I was in the bathroom…pooping and showering. I was just about to ask you very kinky questions! :) ENJOYYYYYYY.
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noxlight: Just thought I should throw this in
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cumberbatchattack: fuckyeahhighqualitypics: James McAvoy &...
James McAvoy & Benedict Cumberbatch
BLOODY HELL.
I CAN’T HANDLE THEM BOTH AT ONCE
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ifyoucomeawaywithme: the-visual: abitofholmesandwatson: #MARR...
#MARRIED AND NOT EVEN SECRETLY
“Hold my hand, John.”
“What?” I hissed. The request seemed so absurd, what with things the way they were, that I nearly stopped moving. We were running for our lives, what kind of request was that?
“Hold my hand. People are less likely to notice the handcuffs if we’re holding hands.” Sherlock turned to look at me, that cold, accusing gaze that I had grown so accustomed to seeing, Sherlock’s silent way of admonishing me for not keeping up.
“Right, right.” I said quickly, taking Sherlock’s outstretched hand. His glove was surprisingly warm, and the texture of the leather was slightly sticky, sealing our hands together, Sherlock’s long fingers interlaced firmly with mine.
Sherlock, clearly pleased that I was finally following his train of thought, had now diverted his attention back to our escape. ”This way.” He said urgently, turning down a busy street, tugging me along after him. I followed quickly, embarrassed to have gotten so distracted over such a silly thing as a little hand holding. I tried to turn my attention back to where we were, and where we were going, and suddenly I realised we were somewhere familiar.
“Sherlock, this is the street where those smugglers used to meet.” I said, looking around worriedly.
“I know. That’s why I brought us here. We need to find their new boss.” Sherlock said almost boredly, and I felt as though I had missed half of the entire day, a feeling I was growing all too used to in the company of Sherlock Holmes.
“We do? Why? Surely this makes us easier to track.” I asked, looking around nervously.
“Of course it does.” Sherlock said, turning to look at me, and the intensity in his eyes frightened me slightly, this one a feeling I would never get used to. ”But she’s the only one who can crack the code.” Sherlock tore his eyes from mine to look around the street, then turned sharply, dragging me suddenly down an alleyway and behind a dumpster.
“Sherlock… wh-” Was all I got out, before Sherlock had pinned me to the brick wall behind me, glancing quickly out to the street before leaning in alarmingly close, to whisper in my ear.
“There is a man in the street who is very clearly looking for us. Stay very quiet.” He hissed, and it suddenly hit me just how close together we were, the rise and fall of his breath pressing his chest to mine every few seconds. Sherlock didn’t seem to notice, doing what I had mentally nicknamed his meercat move, peeking around all angles hurriedly, taking stock of the environment, and considering all possible scenarios. He then looked straight back into my eyes, our noses so close they were almost touching, and I felt my heart speed up and my limbs turn to jelly. How was it that I could survive a bomb strapped to my chest without so much as a wobble in my knee, but a few touches from Sherlock, and suddenly I was jelly. Our hands were still clasped together, a fact I had nearly forgotten until Sherlock gave my hand a tight squeeze, and kicked my heart up another few notches.
“Keep it together, John.” He whispered, giving me a Look, and as I opened my mouth to say… something back, he moved in closer and pressed his lips to mine hard, a powerful, violent, totally shocking kiss. The back of my head hit the wall and I found I didn’t care, kissing him back fiercely without even thinking, our free arms wrapping around one another, pulling each other closer almost automatically, bodies pressed together hard, months of tension and longing I hadn’t even realised were there melting away in this moment that I think both of us had wanted for so, so long.
Finally, Sherlock was the one to break the kiss, leaning back to see out of the alley. ”Right, looks like he’s gone.” Sherlock’s usual involved tones weren’t quite there, and he sounded breathless and slightly lightheaded, a thought that gave me some gratification for a few seconds. And then Sherlock was tugging me by the hand again, out of the alley and back to the case, my knees slightly weak still. I couldn’t help the enormous grin that had found its way onto my face - somehow I knew things would never be quite the same again.
OMG.
Oh, GODtiss… Make this happen, please!!
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