certified.
June 2011
27 posts
“In turn, TV’s Holmes, Benedict Cumberbatch has signed on to lend Smaug the bewitching eloquence of his harrow-pimped accent (and potentially the Necromancer’s delivery as well).”
—
Holy. Jesus. Forget “BBC” I am now going to use “Harrow-pimped” to refer to any and all upperclass English accents.
Empire Magazine, August 2011
Harrow-pimped accent
Harrow-pimped accent
(via imnotherethereanywhere)
Denis Leary will one day eat crow.
Just as soon as we boot Luongo and offer Tim Thomas his (largest in NHL) salary.
denisleary Denis Leary Then Vancouver cops wanna find out where he hid the Sedin twins testicles.
stilettov Victoria @ @denisleary what, you mean the testicles bouncing on your forehead? #canucks #sedintwins
COMPANY COMING TO DVD
YES. YES YES.
via the CompanyOnScreen Facebook page:
Director Lonny Price, Choreographer Josh Rhodes, and Actress Jill Paice at the talk back following the COMPANY screening at the world famous Ziegfeld Theatre in New York on Sunday, June 26th. One of the tidbits revealed? Stephen Sondheim’s COMPANY with The New York Philharmonic will be coming to DVD!
Yes.
Possible tacet for buckets.
Oh my god, I’d almost forgotten.
I miss 2005, y’all
…I do, too. More than I can ever say.
We don’t understand the coffin more than any one of you!
“If it walks like a duck…”
“Means I kicked it in the sweet spot.”
“Talks like a duck?”
“With steel toed boots.” —Unknown
“Means I kicked it in the sweet spot.”
“Talks like a duck?”
“With steel toed boots.” —Unknown
“I’m here, I’m queer, and I don’t really think you’re going to have time to get used to it, because I’m going to kill you.”
—Virgil Leverton (in development)
Fic: Loaded - Pairing: Irene/Moriarty (one-shot) "Sherlock"
“Would you die for me?”
The question lingered in the air, and the smile behind it was almost imperceptible, just the slightest tension in the corners of her mouth. Jim Moriarty watched her as she slid from the divan, liquid, naked and the colour of a chocolate stout, but more intoxicating. He licked his lips, savouring the phantom taste of her.
“I’d kill for you. Same thing, isn’t it, pet?”
Irene Adler tilted her head, no change in expression. “No, it isn’t.”
They liked to play opposites with each other, as with the world. He could not kiss that long Nefertiti neck without feeling the vaguest urge to bend it the wrong way. She knew it well, and it gave him such a thrill to look up at her and see her hand had wandered under the pillow. Did she have a knife? A gun? Maybe nothing at all. But it was enough to trip his wire and electrify his whole body. Every time they made love, it was like they had survived each other.
Standing there, watching him with hooded eyes, she reminded him of a big cat, a panther, some kind of exotic and inscrutable predator. He didn’t know her, really. While he’d spent his formative years rigging car bombs and filling light bulbs with petrol, had she been taking ballet lessons and reading fashion magazines? He doubted it somehow. She was an actor and a rare one. It was possible she could deceive him. He would never own to it, but she was even a better shot.
He leaned back against the headboard and propped his head back on his hands. “I wouldn’t be much use to you dead.”
She didn’t say anything, simply shrugged, and perched on the corner of the bed, just out of reach. “You haven’t killed anyone for me either.”
She was pouting. Only a little bit, and it was affected, but fuck, it was sexy. Very few women could pull off a really good pout; Irene Adler could put on a face and drop it effortlessly. Opposites, again.
Moriarty crooked a finger. She considered him regally for a moment, then condescended to obey his summons, flowing into his arms. He dipped a finger into the hollow at the base of her spine, then traced it up her vertebrae, nipping her lower lip with his teeth. He pressed his mouth against hers.
“Soon, princess.”
He felt her smile against his lips, opened his mouth to hers, and died a little in her.
