All of this can be broken

“I could not, of course, let anyone else envy my enjoyment.”

hungry hungry mycroft
(it’s his favourite game)

add me on skype so we can just have eachother as contacts and not really talk to eachother because i am unable to begin a conversation

You’re alive?

londonphile:

Episode 2 d*l (source) - includes edited version of *that* clip of Benedict Cumberbatch singing.
Also includes introduction by Dirk Maggs.

laughingsquid:

Napping Cat Accompanies Accordionist with Sleepy Meows

acquaint:

if i were a murderer i’d be the febreze murderer and lead my victims blindfolded to undisclosed locations and i’d ask them what they smelled and they’d be like “omg ocean air and tulips” and then i’d rip off the blindfold and it would be A PILE OF THE BODIES OF MY PREVIOUS VICTIMS

You know what they call me in the ancient legends on the Dalek home world? The Oncoming Storm. You might have removed all your emotions, but I reckon right down deep in your DNA there’s one little spark left. And that’s fear. Doesn’t it just burn when you face me?

shylocks:

Hearse
He( )arse
He( is )arse
He(’s an )arse

A message to Sansa haters from Sophie Turner [x]

cumberbatchaddictsanonymous:

brb dying

cersei-wine:

#fuck yes refuse to help us now you asshole #wait until my fucking dragons are fully grown #this city’s ass will BURN #then yes little bitch #YOU’RE FUCKED

therewillbebluebirds:

http://www.cardiffviolins.co.uk/testimonials/

bericsdondarrion:

during richard madden’s interview for the got s3 premier, he says he can’t tell us any details because hbo will kill him
ha. ha ha hA

Your brother refers to me as ‘that whore’. I haven’t had a man, Christopher, for five years and more - not one. I haven’t let myself be kissed or touched; not once not since Perowne. Potty Perowne. Can you see how I must have been feeling to go off with a fool like Potty? I was out of my senses, I broke under your forberance, your permanent well mannered forgiveness for my doing the dirty on you when I married you not knowing, still don’t know whether my child was yours or Gerald Drake’s. You forgave without mercy. To scream blue murder and throw me out would have been a kindness compared to five years under your roof banished from your comfort. Look what you’ve brought me to, throwing myself at you in my whore’s trousseau My heat must have put a spell on all the sentries and ticket inspectors; the musk of five years wanting a man. They must have smelled it. Well, don’t bother now, I’ve changed my mind.