Little of this ~ Little of that

darrenpillowscriss:

aesawinterfell:

yodropthechampagne:

i wrote a poem

whoa

I almost scrolled past this but it’s actually really fucking deep…

(Source: cookiesandcreamnonsense)

soulstryder:

accobrevs:

the-fandoms-are-cool:

frosty-butt:

lord-kitschener:

HEY GUYS IT’S JUNE 19

GUESS THAT MEANS?

IT MEANS FUN!

WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST EXPERIENCE

DON’T CLICK

CLICK AND GREEN IS NO LONGER A CREATIVE COLOR

OMG I WASNT EXPECTING THAT OMG WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENEND IN THE SECOND MINUTE

OH MY FUCKIGN GODFA SD;KFJ I WAS NOT READY FOR THAT AT ALL I’M SCREAMING 

sherlockedwithasonic:

tardismyoldgirl:

tennants-hair:

tardis-mind-palace:

doctor-john-with-trenchcoat:

bakerstreetbabes:

Always reblog the no-look pass.

Could he just make an entrance like in the first gif every time he enters a room? He looks so cool when he does that.

No, but what if every time John walked into a room that Sherlock was in, he would just throw something to Sherlock, whatever had to do with the case, or just a pen, and Sherlock would use it, because John could tell what he wanted each time. Pen, shoe, scarf, phone, tea mug, anything.

Then, the day after Reichenbach, out of habit, John walked into the flat, and instinctively picked up and pen and threw it. He only remembered Sherlock wasn’t there when he heard the pen clatter to the ground.

nice to meet you satan

Three years have gone by and finally John has lost the habit of throwing things to a man who is no longer there. He’s broken at least 8 mugs since Sherlock’s dea- no. He still cannot think the word. As long as he refuses to believe Sherlock is gone, he will still be there.

One night after a particularly long day consisting of far too many meetings John walks home to 221B. He imagines Sherlock’s eye-rolling, and scoffing reactions to Anderson’s many idiotic theories about their latest killer, and smiles to himself. He unlocks the door, enters, and throws his jacket over the nearest chair. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Sherlock’s old mobile, and for a moment forgets everything that happened. He wraps his hand around the device, and tosses it behind him, silently cursing himself for probably breaking one of the last pieces of Sherlock in his possession, as he waits for the inevitable clatter of plastic on wood. But there is no sound.

“Hello, John.”

YOU MADE IT BETTER

YOU SOOTHED THE WOUND

(Source: ughbenedict)

katiannakokkinou:

bathuniwegohard:

When I need to reach the word count.

REBLOGGING FOR THE COMMENT OMFG