4x01 and 8x01
Sam’s explanations for the state of the Impala on the various occasions that Dean comes back from the dead.
various occasions that dean comes back from the dead.
it’s like they’re trying to make me not buy it
wHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE IN YOUR THIRTIES
some general boob-having problems
THE DARTS, THEY DO NOTHING
the expressions and body language in this are fantastic.
To all you lovely people with boobs, thank you for being awesome <3
dude that’s so true. I’m only a c and this happens all the time.
DUDE IM A FUCKING A STILL AND THIS HAPPENS TO ME
why do small children find the need to scream like they’re being brutally murdered
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.