Sometimes you have a really hard work week and you just need to do something to make yourself happy.
Can I ask you something?
How…The hell…do you get your eyeliner so perfect????
Seriously?? It’s beautiful!
FUCKIN HELL THAT IS SKILL
holy shit fucking master pls tEACh ME
Holy cow talk about having a steady hand, that’s like a perfect wing.
your makeup=perfection
THE PRECISION
superlockedhogwartianinthetardis:
Potterlock
And yes, Sherlock and John can see the Knight Bus. Because they are magical.YES ALL THE FUCKING YES OH MY GOD OUR FANDOM HAS BEEN RECOGNISED IN A CROSS-FANDOM PHOTOSET YES
You know what’s creepy about Humpty Dumpty?
They never said he was an egg.
all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty back together again BECAUSE HIS BLOOD WAS GUSHING OUT OF HIS CRACKED SKULL
SOMEONE PLEASE CHANGE THE SUBJECT BEFORE THE SHERLOCK FANDOM STARTS ANGSTING.
Too late
LOOK JAWN I’M HUMPTY DUMPTY
GOD DAMMIT
fifty-shades-of-gandalf-the-grey:
remember the time when spock quoted sherlock and then sherlock was in the next movie
that’s how you summon Benedict Cumberbatch
Peepo Choo vol 2
I think that a lot of tumblr would benefit from reading peepo choo idk
This is important.
prends-la-vie-comme-elle-vient:
AsylumWaiting Room of the Big Three.it’s funny because it looks like the sherlock fandom are sane here
Sherlock bustled about the kitchen, throwing a cupboard door open and pushing aside a box of nicotine patches to retrieve two mismatched mugs. A kettle whistled plaintively in the background, like it had been trying to draw attention to itself for a while now. Setting the mugs aside, Sherlock absently pulled the kettle off the stove, poured tea into the two mugs, and carried them into the living room.
Doctor Who was sprawled over the same chair it had collapsed into last night, when it had appeared at the door muttering inanely about lost regenerations and knackered navigations systems. It made a whining noise as Sherlock tucked the shock blanket it had thrown off in the night back around its shoulders.
Supernatural was in similar straits, curled up on the floor with a throw pillow and a tattered trench coat around its shoulders and alternating between sobbing and muttering about domesticity potential.
A thudding on the stairs indicated the ruckus had finally awoke Merlin, who poked its head into the room, hair sticking up at all angels as it tied its scarf around its neck. Blinking blearily at the mess, it seemed to realize what had occurred when it picked up a discarded bow-tie from the floor, holding it between forefinger and thumb, “Is it that time already?”
“It was bad this year,” Sherlock whispered, trying not to exacerbate the already fragile fandoms under its care.
“I remember what that was like,” Merlin muttered, running a hand through its hair and pulling a cape off the nearby coat rack, “I’ll go to the store. We’re out of milk again. May as well pick up some fish fingers, custard, and salt.”
Supernatural gurgled something quietly.
“No, I won’t forget the pie.”
I SWEAR TO GOD TUMBLR NEVER FUCKING CHANGE
