Professional Skiing May Be Mentioned

dtctvholmes:

bedroomalibis:

saltypotion:

lunchgun:

did-you-kno:

Source

shoot me in the face fuck womg whjwahjnrm

can i cry is that acceptable

jesus chirst

oh jesus ow my heart

Bawling

(via orbitingasupernova)

GOD

(Source: edricstorms, via orbitingasupernova)

cloysterbell:

cloysterbell:

cloysterbell:

Yes sir! I was doing a bit of spring cleaning and I came across a whole bunch of stuff that was just taking up space, including some Doctor Who stuff. So I decided to give it away!

So! You have the possibility to receive from me:

1. A medium TARDIS/Stargate shirt. (Yes, it’s clean. Yes, I’ll wash it again before I send it out.)
2. An Eleventh Doctor sonic TORCH. This is not a sonic screwdriver. (Click on me for more details on this product.)
3. A TARDIS ring!
4. The Stone Rose and Touched by an Angel, two Doctor Who novels! (The Stone Rose is a must read for any Doctor/Rose shippers.)

So, of course, there are rules.

• You do not need to be following me to be entered. But it’d be cool if you did. :D
• Likes and reblogs count.
• You can reblog this as many times as your heart desires.
• You must have an ask box.

This contest ends on April 15. Tax day.

*Oh, and if this reaches 1000 notes, I’ll throw in a little something extra for the winner.

AND GO.

Well, like I promised, this reached 1000 notes.

So now the winner will also receive this TARDIS operator badge thing I got at ComicCon.

THIS HAS OVER 10,000 NOTES.

WHAT THE SHIT.

(via orbitingasupernova)

THEM

(via erectionsandtea)

The earlier Daleks…

cumberqueen:

theconsultingarmydoctor:

welcometoasgard:

ask-watson:

text-jw:

hatmanandcrumpets:

galaxing:

thecumbergang:

Favorite caps from A Scandal in Belgravia.

NUMBER 2, 4, AND 7 THO

Number 4. god.

W h a t

This is obviously extremely attractive. Don’t you agree, Sherlock?

-JW

Again, how does your face work Ben? :D

ASDFGHJKL;’

OH GOD YOUR DERPS MAKE ME ALL TINGLY INSIDE

"I like drinking coffee alone and reading alone. I like riding the bus alone and walking home alone. It gives me time to think and set my mind free. I like eating alone and listening to music alone. But when I see a mother with her child, a girl with her lover, or a friend laughing with their best friend, I realize that even though I like being alone, I don’t fancy being lonely. The sky is beautiful, but the people are sad. I just need someone who won’t run away."

Unknown (via butt3rflycollector)

(Source: buddhacoffee, via amenaza)

(via amenaza)

typewriterinthetardis:

On the day Sherlock Holmes turned seven years old, he found a hedgehog in the garden. 

Scared by a straying cat currently sniffing curiously at the small animal, the little fella had curled up in a protective ball, trembling ever so slightly. Promptly, Sherlock had shooed the cat away.

The hedgehog, of course, did not uncurl immediately. Sherlock crouched down, thinking that that was a rather reasonable decision. After all, how was it to know that Sherlock wasn’t an even bigger danger? Especially as the hedgehog’s former assailant had been scared away by him.

Rather smart, this little hedehog. Definitely smarter than the cat, which had been startled so easily by a few shooing motions and threatening sounds.

So, Sherlock held himself carefully still, showing the animal that he meant no harm, hoping for it to calm down.

Really, Sherlock was rather a bit fascinated by the hedgehog. He had only ever seen them in his books. If he could make the animal believe he wouldn’t hurt it, maybe it would uncurl and he could watch it for a bit, collect some new data.

Collecting new information, after all, was one of Sherlock’s favourite pasttimes.

Now, so far, nothing very unusual had occured. Which was why, when the hedgehog finally uncurled, Sherlock expected it to maybe sniff at Sherlock’s new leather shoes briefly before going back to whatever hedgehogs did with their lives. They had been one of his birthday presents and an animal might pick up on the smell.

However, the hedgehog did no such thing. Instead, it got to stand on its four tiny legs, wriggled its head, then stared up at Sherlock with its dark, beady eyes.

Sherlock instantly felt scrutinized and kept quiet. He knew he liked silence when he observed something. It was only right to extend the same courtesy to the hedehog, wasn’t it?

The hedgehog took its time watching him.

Then, seemingly coming to an decision, it approached Sherlock’s shoes after all, though not to sniff at them. Instead, rather awkwardly, the hedgehog started to walk up on them, cleary trying to somehow climb onto Sherlock.

Surprised, Sherlock carefully moved to offer his hands as a lift. By now, Sherlock was sure the animal was clever enough to see it for the friendly gesture it was.

And he was right, too. After only a second’s hesitation, the hedhehog made its way onto Sherlock’s hands. Its underside was surprisingly soft and tickled against Sherlock’s skin.

Very slowly, Sherlock got up until he was no longer crouching, but standing straight, the seemingly very special hedgehog in his hands.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Sherlock Holmes.”

The hedgehog wiggled its nose in greeting.

“It’s my birthday today, you know,” Sherlock continued quietly.

The hedgehog seemed unimpressed by this.

Clearing his throat, Sherlock decided that he could trust the hedgehog with a secret. After all, it wouldn’t be able to tell anyone, not even Mycroft, and Sherlock dearly was in need to get the one thing off his chest that had been bothering him all day.

“It’s my birthday and nobody came,” he admitted in a rush. “Nobody phoned. Nobody wanted to come over. Only my family cares I am seven now.”

The hedgehog, Sherlock thought, looked a bit enquiring after that, so he explained: “The others, at school - they don’t like me. I don’t have any friends. I can’t make them like me, not like Mycroft can. I try, really, but nobody understands me.”

The hedgehog wiggled in his hands and Sherlock brought it up to his face to get a better look.

“What is it?” he asked and gasped when softly, carefully, the hedgehog pressed its nose against Sherlock’s.

Sherlock blinked.

“You… you want to be my friend?” he deduced slowly.

Another touch of their noses. Sherlock smiled shyly.

“Good. That’s - that’s good.” He paused, thinking briefly. “If you’ll be my friend, you’ll need a name.” Sherlock looked at the hedgehog sharply. “What are you - a Bill? An Albert? A Gregory?”

The hedgehog didn’t seem to like either of those names.

“A John?”

This time, the hedgehog let out the tiniest hint of a yelp.

Sherlock, in return, broke into a startled laugh.

“John it is, then,” he decided. Carefully, he pulled John closer and let him climb on his shoulder, which John seemed eager to do. “Let’s explore the garden together, friend. Maybe, we’ll find some interesting things.”

It felt rather good, Sherlock decided as he walked towards Mummy’s roses, having a friend.

(That night, though, Mummy wouldn’t let John inside the house. And the next morning, John would be gone and Sherlock would be devastated for weeks, losing his first friend just like that. But John the Hedgehog, who was a rather special animal as Sherlock had realized, would have a plan and that plan would suceed and nearly thirty years later, Sherlock would meet John Watson and find more than a friend in him.)

I honestly teared up. This was so sweet, if a bit incomplete.

Nothing will ever be more precious.

(Source: elisabethsh, via amenaza)

I like this sign