marry a guy who has sisters because he’s seen the female in her natural state therefore won’t have any unrealistic expectations of you
You say you love rain, but you use an umbrella to walk under it.
You say you love sun, but you seek shade when it is shining.
You say you love wind, but when it come you close your window.
So that’s why I’m scared when you say you love me.
The OTP chooses the blogger, Mr. Potter.
John singing “that’s what bilbo baggins hates” to his daughter
Sherlock reading to her and using the Smaug voice
Both of them asking her what her little elf eyes see when she crawls around on the floor
So it occurred to me today that Mary and Sherlock are each other’s inverse. Sherlock presents a veneer of coldness and insensitivity as a self-preservation mechanism. Mary presents a veneer of warmth and affability to hide how ruthless and dangerous she is.
It reminds me strongly of Darcy and Wickham in Pride and Prejudice. Darcy is taken for a bad man because he is abrupt and prickly. Wickham is taken for a good man because he is charming and superficially pleasant. “One has all the good, and one all the appearance of good.” Like Wickham, Mary is the classic romantic false lead.
Tell me again how this isn’t a love story?
Sherlock mouths “I do” when Mary does, just so he has a chance to say the words. John turns to look at Sherlock in the middle of his own damn wedding ceremony, because he hears him.
John says “I don’t” without a quaver in his voice, because god damn it he needs to talk to Sherlock.
The two of them sit in tense silence in the cab, John tips the cabbie as usual while Sherlock strides ahead of him up the stairs into 221B. Climbing the stairs slowly – the limp is back – John finally reaches the top landing slightly out of breath, only to find Sherlock perched on the edge of his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin and staring directly at John. He stands abruptly. “I love you.”
"I don’t know what happened… I never gave it much thought. But standing up there next to you and Mary was harder than anything because suddenly it was there. You… I - I love you. I’m sorry.” He sat just as swiftly as he had stood.
John is frozen in the doorway until Sherlock’s eyes flicker towards him once, hesitantly, and then he melts. He sidesteps Sherlock into the kitchen where he puts on water for tea, finding comfort in the familiar routine.
He glances up and startles when he sees his flatmate fidgeting at the head of the table. “Well? Aren’t you going to say anything? Have I overstepped or offended you in some way? You could at least have the decency to tell me off if you aren’t okay with –“
His tirade is cut short by smooth fingers pressed to his lips.
“Stop it. Stop.” John drops his hand to his side and steps back. He squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath, and says, “I love you.” A small smile quirks on his face. “Now go away while I finish with the tea; you’re making me nervous just standing there.”
When John passes a mug to Sherlock a few minutes later and settles into the other man’s chair, Sherlock is suspiciously twitchy.
John lifts an eyebrow. “How many patches then?”
A light blush spreads over Sherlock’s cheekbones. “Three. You’re a three patch problem, John.”
God: Gabe, stop, I’m working.
Gabriel: I WANT TO MAKE SOMETHING TOOOOOOO!
God: Here’s a box of parts, go nuts.
God: -several hours later- Gabe? Where are you, my son?
Gabriel: DAD, LOOKIT!
God: Dafuq is that?
Gabriel: A PLATYPUS!
OHMYGODS, THANK YOU FOR DRAWING THAT!
They don’t do much
this is the fucking funniest thing ever
LOOK at it though
"just put it in australia"