The Tumblr Taboo

"So what's up with vlavla?" Eliza asked.
Martin, Eliza and Shannen were sat on the shopping centre couch overlooking various water features and bustling shoppers, local and tourist alike. It was like watching television, Eliza decided. All those people, with their own stories, bleak and mundane, animated and lively, all converging on this location, this place in time that each and every person had in common.
"Oh I don't know. What am I, the village shrink?" Martin replied, "He's been down ever since I met him."
"When was that?" Shannen asked.
"Couple of weeks probably," Martin replied, "Anyway, what's Shaliza?"
Eliza spluttered, "Where'd you hear about that?"
"Jo," he answered, "What is it?"
"Um ... you know how like Johnlock or Freebatch?" Shannen prompted.
"Johnlock yes. Freebatch is a new one," his eyes widened and he stared straight ahead to the opposite row of shops.
"Well," Eliza began, "Shaliza's sort of like that, it's a bro-tp. Totally platonic."
"And I take it Freebatch isn't?"
"Among the people we talk to it usually is ... just don't venture too far into tumblr," Shannen warned.
"I tend not to anyway. As I said, I am WELL aware of johnlock."

 Vlavla certainly was down, and he had perfectly good reason to be. He'd always thought that perhaps one day he'd have the opportunity to choose between two projects that both requested his services, both job offers, not auditions. What he'd not anticipated was the inability to make said choice. Two incredible roles, one opening. Two major advantages, one to each. How was he supposed to favour either role: one a movie adaptation - his first truly, properly major movie - of his interpretation of Dorian Gray, the other the once in a lifetime offer, the dream for any male British actor, the Doctor. Steven Moffat had called his agent only that week, invited him out to dinner, then announced that they'd be joined by Benedict, Martin and a few fans.
 The issue was that whichever one he chose, he'd be forced to surrender the other. How the hell was he meant to decide? He knew he should do the movie, it would be better for his career. But it was Doctor Who, it'd be far better for his inner fanboy.
 He didn't know. He was sitting on a wall outside the cinema near his London hotel, his hands wrapped around his neck for support. Around him people went about their lives, making their own decisions as fast as they walked. He wasn't sure he could remember the feeling of coming to a conclusion and he'd only had this problem four days. He ruffled his hair and yawned.
 A figure, he noticed, was approaching at a brisk pace. As it neared, it dawned on him that the figure was one Martin Freeman.
"Hello," he greeted Martin.
"Hi, do you fancy going on a quest?"