a moment of silence for the bafta winners of the sherlock cast

(Source: obiwanskenobi, via mor-iarty)


(via iwearastetsonnow)


Carey Mulligan as Daisy Buchanan in The Great Gatsby (2012)

(via implies)


(Source: walktoparadise, via thatbluebox)


(Source: pappbecher, via batloking)


(via comealong-stark)


alexinthetardis:

(Source: loveatomb, via dinklages)


(Source: catching-everlark, via peevesus)


(via gallifreyfieldsforever)


(Source: im-the-mockingjay, via queeneverdeen)


(Source: daisybuchanans, via j-moriarty)


(Source: bitofaparadox, via cumberbatchass)


(via katnissandherpearl)


acciomigs:

Matt Smith holding the Olympic Torch in Cardiff (May 26th)

I’m very excited about the run. It’s a huge privilege.  A once in a lifetime thing. Let’s hope I don’t trip over!

(via enchantedfleur)


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, via perfectpsychopath)


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