♡cute as f♡

Martin Freeman at Opening Event  of Depot Cinema (x)

Okay they are WAYYYY TO CUTE!

Harry likes dads having a blast at his concerts. I suspect Helené knows. This is cute. 

Helené Pambrun Instagram stories. Osaka concert, 11th May, 2018.

(there is another post but it has me blocked, so here it is from me)

Be a lover. Give love, choose love. Love everyone, always.

x

Rihanna, Pharrell, Ming Xi, Deepika Padukone, Daniel Kaluuya, Solange Knowles, Zoe Kravitz, Winnie Harlow, Migos, Janelle Monae, Donald Glover, Issa Rae, Tiffany Haddish, Alex Rodriguez and Jennifer Lopez at the MET Gala photographed by Daniel Arnold for VOGUE

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO 

WHEN YOU SEE IT

me 

me: my wife just gave birth someone from melbourne: I’m from melbourne

All the replies are either

People not from Melbourne: I don’t get it

People from Melbourne: I’m from Melbourne!

People from Sydney: this is what people from Melbourne are actually like

@nicolauda

Homework

For Your Consideration  Benedict Cumberbatch - Patrick Melrose

here comes the sun, doo doo doo doo, john whisper-sings into sherlock’s curls, smiling when he groans in protest and snuggles closer into john’s chest. here comes the sun, and i say, it’s all right. 

too early, sherlock mumbles. he rubs his face against john’s t-shirt, pouting.

little darling, john sings, ignoring sherlock’s protests by gathering him closer into his arms, nosing around his ear so he has to listen. it’s been a long cold lonely winter.

it’s may, sherlock groans. he’s undeniably awake now, shifting and wiggling in the sheets, looking for cool pockets with his feet. one of his hands slips over john’s waist and up under his shirt. did you just call me little?

little darling, john confirms. it feels like years since its been here.

sherlock grouches and grimaces and groans again, but as john brushes his song over sherlock’s ear, over his jaw, over his cheekbones, sherlock’s head slowly rises to meet him, like he can’t actually stop himself even though he’s trying to be as stubborn as possible about it. here comes the sun, john sings, and sherlock’s eyes scrunch and blink and open. here comes the sun, and john’s smile is almost too broad for him to keep going, and i say, it’s all right.

john, sherlock says, shooting him a sleepy glare that falls short of exasperated and lands somewhere closer to helplessly fond, and when john starts again, here comes the sun, doo doo doo doo, sherlock reaches up and cuts off the chorus with a kiss. 

morning, sleepyhead, john says, minutes later, when the kisses have grown lazy and warm and soft in the dove-grey light. sherlock hums, brushes another kiss to john’s chin.

here comes the sun, sherlock sings, just to see john smile and feel the giggle starting in his chest, and i say, it’s all right.