Imagine
remember when the half blood prince had just come out and those guys put a massive sign that said ‘snape kills dumbledore’ above the motorway and it was the biggest news of the day and they got like legally charged
tumblr is like a nightclub
and twilight tries to get in and the bouncer is like hell no, you’re not cool enough to get in here
but then he looks at robert pattinson
and just gives him this knowing nod like
except you
you can stay
it is the 50th anniversary. clara asks the doctor why he chose the name “the doctor”.
john hurt appears out of nowhere and says “the wand chooses the wizard, mr. potter. it’s not always clear why”. he then turns into the great dragon and flies away
the screen turns black
that’s the episode
If I ever played the Doctor, all I would do on my days off is get into costume and run around London looking worried.
tummy raspberries!
Sherlock Holmes was many things: a consulting detective, a genius, a man of surprising depths and less than surprising failings, and above a human being who wished more than anything he wasn’t. But there was one other thing that Sherlock was, one facet of the multitudes of humanity that went unnoticed among the scorn and biting insults, one thing that John and only John knew about the cold and brilliant detective that could bring him to his knees were it ever to be made public.
Sherlock was ticklish. Very ticklish.
John hadn’t meant to find out, honestly he hadn’t. It wasn’t like he’d been lying in wait, planning and plotting for the perfect opportunity to tackle Sherlock to the ground and find out whether or not he could be something so human as susceptible to tickling. No, it had been an honest to goodness accident, one that had happened at the absolute worst possible moment when John had been frantically running his fingers over Sherlock’s abdomen in search of broken bones or contusions after a particularly nasty blow to the stomach by a lead pipe. There hadn’t been any permanent wounds thank goodness…but there had been a staggeringly tell-tale reaction as Sherlock had jerked away and huffed out a gasping breath of what could only be described as pained laughter.
The murderous glare on Sherlock’s face had told John it was best not to bring it up. If he knew Sherlock at all, and he flattered himself that of all the people in the world he knew Sherlock best, asking about the mere possibility of being ticklish would result in shouting, a tantrum, and more broken valuables than John liked to think about. Or perhaps even worse, Sherlock would simply stop speaking to him. No, it was better to let the matter lie no matter how desperately John wanted to dig his fingers into that long expanse of tempting flesh and leave Sherlock breathless and gasping and so very vulnerable - or maybe it was better to just not think about it. Right.
But then such trivial concerns vanished in a haze of new-found emotions and passions and a sudden explosion of what could only be described as lust. Skin was for kissing and touching with gentle reverence and sometimes even biting, and gasps were breathed out around the moans, and fingers had so many other uses that brought about so many more pleasurable results. But when the sweat was cooling and the clothes were rumpled and limbs were heavy with satisfaction and languid luxury, when Sherlock was sprawled with careless abandon across the bed and in pyjamas so hastily put on that a long, open, tempting expanse of stomach was laying bare and inviting before John’s eyes…well, he couldn’t be blamed could he?
Especially not when the results were so…adorable.
Someone wrote a thing for one of my drawings I-
This is so fantastic and cute, you’ve made my day!! Thank you so much! :’)
it takes me like 3 days to wake up in the morning
oh my god
fucking fandom references
WHAT FANDOM? THE JESUS FANDOM?
THEY PREFER THE TERM CHRISTIANITY
This is the post that killed me
