The evolution of the paparazzi message.
1: Scarlett Johansson Reminds Us Just How Creepy Paparazzi are by having nothing better to do then following celebrities around.
2: Emma Stone and Andrew Garfield take that scuminess and use it to advocate for charity in 2012.
3: Benedict Cumberbatch reminds the paparazzi that there are more important things to be taking pictures of then him making amazing TV.
All in all, these four stars are brilliant examples on how to handle paparazzi and show just how classy they are and how aware they are of how fame isn’t everything.
My birthday was this wednesday. Could you give me an X-Men related bomb drop as a present today?
x-men related!!?? well, don’t say i never gave you anything for your birthday.
this is real. this is my sara pichelli and this, again, is part of the marvel 75th anniversary,
the x-men kissing event is happening!!
Bendis drops an X-bomb ;)
There is nowhere on the planet I feel more at home than hundreds of miles above my home. This is where I come to check in. To find perspective. To pass out, devoid of oxygen, and plummet in free fall to Earth…
when she says she doesn’t send nudes
when guys objectify women and expect them to send nudes
when someone asks you about your nuclear plans for russia
When Russia sends you nudes
Tom Hiddleston being
Knowledge is knowing that Frankenstein is not the monster.
Wisdom is knowing that Frankenstein is the monster.
yay part deux
i like dyeing my hair because i always feel like a spy for a week after.
it’s like: i’m dying my hair in the sink of an airport bathroom. mi6 is on their way. a sniffling janitor is partially nude and handcuffed to the toilet next to me.Престани да се жалиш, i hiss at her. можете добити нове панталоне.
back at hq, dame judi dench is holding a dossier on me. it’s three fingers thick, OPERATION: GATORBAIT written in bold beneath the TOP SECRET stamp.
who the hell took all these pictures? they’re awful. dame judi dench snaps, flipping through the black and white creeper shots of me doing stuff.
we were unable to get a shot that wasn’t of her facefirst in a bowl of soup, or harassing dogs. some british guy answers. even when she was supposed to be on assignment. one minute she’s blowing raspberries in a sharpei’s neck fat. the next minute, we find the richest man in britain strung up on a hotel balcony in nothing but a cock sock and also a regular foot sock.
she’s good. dame judi dench says.
not better than me. james bond mutters as he runs through the airport.
i whistle casually as i walk past him, pushing a garbage can full of terrified, partially nude janitor. we get out to my waiting maserati, and i give her back her uniform and also one million dollars in traveler’s checks and roll her down a hill to give myself time to escape.
i tear off down the autobahn, thinking of all the dogs i will pet in germany. my new black hair flows in the wind.
A long time ago, Natalia Romanova made me remember what it was to feel human. And they punished us both for that, in different ways.