Beneath The Dreaming Tree

Photo

Thu, 23 May 2013 01:55:24 +0200

Photo

Thu, 23 May 2013 00:23:21 +0200

A reaction to Start Trek Into Darkness International Trailer

Wed, 22 May 2013 23:46:35 +0200

radculas:

Photo

Wed, 22 May 2013 23:45:20 +0200

jackpittgregor: I adore your face, your lips, your eyes, your...

Wed, 22 May 2013 23:42:26 +0200

jackpittgregor:

I adore your face, your lips, your eyes, your eyebrows, cheekbones, even your ears, even your ears are sexy, lord have mercy:)

Mads Mikkelsen in The Three Musketeers (2011)

Wed, 22 May 2013 23:41:28 +0200

Mads Mikkelsen in The Three Musketeers (2011)

Never give up and good luck will find you.

Wed, 22 May 2013 23:40:24 +0200

Never give up and good luck will find you.

chaostrick: Tom Hiddleston portrait by Hugo Glendinning

Wed, 22 May 2013 23:36:24 +0200

chaostrick:

Tom Hiddleston portrait by Hugo Glendinning

Photo

Wed, 22 May 2013 23:27:51 +0200

lovebenedictcumberbatch: cumberbuddy: [x] I love seeing...

Wed, 22 May 2013 22:20:36 +0200

lovebenedictcumberbatch:

cumberbuddy:

[x]

I love seeing Benedict in Sherlock costume but completely out of character. Such a difference in everything he does to when he’s in “Sherlock” mind set.

THIS IS TRIPPY

Love, The Higher Law - Chapter 1: One Night

Wed, 22 May 2013 22:11:57 +0200

just-the-fics-maam:

Edward walks down the street, the bustle of inner London flying past his shoulders. He is in the tourist district, the part of London he usually avoids, but something is spurring him on, that same invisible hand that stopped him at the gate. His feet are following a path they already know, a preplanned, predestined trip down the paving stones.

He walks past shop window after shop window, adorned with greenery and tiny white lights. Carols play from speakers, and there is a small group of handbell ringers in the square, dressed in Victorian clothes and hunched down in their overcoats, ringing out “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.”

It hardly seems like Christmas to Edward, and it isn’t a bad thing; Christmas has always been a gently terrible time for him, the pile of wild, twisting expectations higher than the pile of extravagant, unnecessary presents. He always has the urge to run away at Christmas, but he bites his lip and makes it through, discharging his obligation and eating a bit too much of the Christmas pudding, the next day feeling only a little bit too heavy with food and drink.

Last year’s Christmas in Ghana was the best of his life, simple and airy and open. He slipped into the back of a tiny Anglican church on the edge of Accra and felt the strangeness and familiarity there at the same time, the simple carols settling his heart and his mind.

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My feels…..