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Benedict Cumberbatch for Vanity Fair (recolored by shakespearee) 

@adelaidekane: Oh my little darlings… I don’t buy lingerie for men! I buy it for me.

me: i don't even care. i'm not going to talk about this anymore.
...
me: and you know what else? [2000 word rant]

yup, that’s me!

December 13, 1989.

Ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his 21 st year. If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomedto remain a beast for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast?

I just write about the things that haunt me the most. And you know, that sounds kind of depressing, but good things can haunt you the same way as bad things can haunt you. Good memories can leave even more of a mark or a scar on your heart as the bad times, and the bad memories, and the slamming doors, and the fights. So when I say that I write about things that haunt me, they’re not always about bad ghosts.