There's this man. His name is Andrew Scott. He is delicious, and has a propensity towards touching things.

Unfortunately, those things are not us. Yet.

And my name is Jessica. My hands don't work and I talk about myself, and personal stuff, far too much. I'm basically an intellectually disabled puppy. There's nothing wrong with me.

 

Last one for the night. Not really touching anything, but I think this picture is fucking adorable.
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…
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I love you, sir. Please don’t throw me out of a window. (I have an unnaturally large amount of love for Moriarty. I know he’s fictional. I don’t care. I want to be a criminal with him.)

Last one for the night. Not really touching anything, but I think this picture is fucking adorable.

I love you, sir. Please don’t throw me out of a window. (I have an unnaturally large amount of love for Moriarty. I know he’s fictional. I don’t care. I want to be a criminal with him.)

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