topsy turvy
Oh Daaaaaaaaaan.
You could be my Endymion any day.
And my Bacchus.
You could sit there and read Rimbaud to me. You could shimmy into those painted on jeans and sashay around like a rentboy. You could wear the tiniest tiniest skirt and prance on top of tables. You could sing your adorkable emo soul out at me. You could grow a beard and recite Chekhov to me.
Whatevuh you loike.
*le big soppy fangirly sigh and melt into big mess of adoration*
And why do I suspect fixating on a theatrical actor whom I've never seen on film or TV is suddenly a whole other level of wankery? *squints suspiciously at self*
Source.
You could be my Endymion any day.
And my Bacchus.
You could sit there and read Rimbaud to me. You could shimmy into those painted on jeans and sashay around like a rentboy. You could wear the tiniest tiniest skirt and prance on top of tables. You could sing your adorkable emo soul out at me. You could grow a beard and recite Chekhov to me.
Whatevuh you loike.
*le big soppy fangirly sigh and melt into big mess of adoration*
And why do I suspect fixating on a theatrical actor whom I've never seen on film or TV is suddenly a whole other level of wankery? *squints suspiciously at self*
Source.