Hi I'm Kassy, and I'm 17. My blog features (in this order) Sherlock, Merlin, Supernatural, Doctor Who, Flash, and Batman. Or anything that can keep my attention for more that 2 seconds.
Background Illustrations provided by: http://edison.rutgers.edu/
Reblogged from alostbluebox  17,757 notes
sherlockwho13:

thescienceofjohnlock:

timemachineyeah:

twelvebats:

concludes:

ayamayamayam:

do-you-have-a-flag:

concludes:

weavile:




quick speedpaint ‘cause this has been in my head for ages. phone depicted above is Sherlock’s, not John’s.

  #I imagine there are days where John probably can’t even make the stairs and slumps against the staircase and holds his head in his hands #and wonders why of all the things that had to be taken away from him it’d be Sherlock 
jesus chriiiist and some days he texts sherlock without thinking: ‘gone to tesco, what do you need? -JW’ and sherlock’s phone pings from inside his trouser pocket and if john could breathe from the ache in his chest he would scream 

stop it
no
stop

And then, on good days (when he can stand to think about him and all the good memories they had), John calls Sherlock’s cell just to hear his voice before he leaves a voicemail. It’s a ridiculous sounding message, but so inherently Sherlock, spoken in that bored and exasperated tone John knew too well: “Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. Don’t bother leaving a message if it isn’t pertinent to a case.”
And, sometimes, hearing his voice would be enough for John. Enough to make him smile and laugh, and hang up and go about with his day.
Sometimes, though, he’d have to leave a voicemail. Just a “Hey, Sherlock, I’m not going to be at the flat tonight, just wanted to let you know” or even “Mrs. Hudson said you shot her wall again. I’ll let you take care of it this time.”
And, just once, years after Sherlock’s death, he said,
“I love you.”
Once was enough.

OMG UGLIEST CRYING
John stops blogging. He can’t see the point of it; nothing ever happens to him anymore - he’s just staying alive. But the good days begin to outnumber the bad ones through sheer bloody-minded placidity, and John fills the inbox of Sherlock’s phone with inane little messages and expects nothing back. With: “How many times can I get into a row with the chip and pin machine before they ban me? -JW”, or “Triple murder in the papers today. You’d have loved it. -JW”, or simply “Bloody raining again. -JW” - hundreds of texts about everything and nothing at the same time. And John stops blogging. But he never stops talking about his day.

JFC AS IF THE WOUND ISN’T FRESH ALREADY!

why are you doing this to me 
all my brainings are crying mushes now
no why did you type any of that

And then one day, while John is in Tesco ambling around with a half empty basket, the phone, Sherlock’s phone buzzes inside his pocket. He stops dead, eyes widening and pulls it out. Before looking he stills himself and reminds himself that it’s probably just a wrong number or a mistake of some kind, maybe even a message he sent himself that has been delayed for some reason, it happens.
He sighs and turns the phone over, running his fingers over it like it’s some kind of precious object. The screen is lit, telling him there’s a new message, he pushes the button to open it.
Suddenly stiff fingers drop the shopping basket, sending it contents scattering across the vinyl floor. The phone slips from his other hand, bouncing on the hard surface and the screen cracks as once heavy feet are suddenly light in their hurried flight from the store.
The phone lies broken but still on and readable, the message reads *I’m sorry John, come home and don’t forget the milk. -SH*

I did not need to be crying this early in the morning 

sherlockwho13:

thescienceofjohnlock:

timemachineyeah:

twelvebats:

concludes:

ayamayamayam:

do-you-have-a-flag:

concludes:

weavile:

image

quick speedpaint ‘cause this has been in my head for ages. phone depicted above is Sherlock’s, not John’s.

#I imagine there are days where John probably can’t even make the stairs and slumps against the staircase and holds his head in his hands #and wonders why of all the things that had to be taken away from him it’d be Sherlock 

jesus chriiiist and some days he texts sherlock without thinking: ‘gone to tesco, what do you need? -JW’ and sherlock’s phone pings from inside his trouser pocket and if john could breathe from the ache in his chest he would scream

stop it

no

stop

And then, on good days (when he can stand to think about him and all the good memories they had), John calls Sherlock’s cell just to hear his voice before he leaves a voicemail. It’s a ridiculous sounding message, but so inherently Sherlock, spoken in that bored and exasperated tone John knew too well: “Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. Don’t bother leaving a message if it isn’t pertinent to a case.”

And, sometimes, hearing his voice would be enough for John. Enough to make him smile and laugh, and hang up and go about with his day.

Sometimes, though, he’d have to leave a voicemail. Just a “Hey, Sherlock, I’m not going to be at the flat tonight, just wanted to let you know” or even “Mrs. Hudson said you shot her wall again. I’ll let you take care of it this time.”

And, just once, years after Sherlock’s death, he said,

“I love you.”

Once was enough.

OMG UGLIEST CRYING

John stops blogging. He can’t see the point of it; nothing ever happens to him anymore - he’s just staying alive. But the good days begin to outnumber the bad ones through sheer bloody-minded placidity, and John fills the inbox of Sherlock’s phone with inane little messages and expects nothing back. With: “How many times can I get into a row with the chip and pin machine before they ban me? -JW”, or “Triple murder in the papers today. You’d have loved it. -JW”, or simply “Bloody raining again. -JW” - hundreds of texts about everything and nothing at the same time. And John stops blogging. But he never stops talking about his day.

JFC AS IF THE WOUND ISN’T FRESH ALREADY!

why are you doing this to me 

all my brainings are crying mushes now

no why did you type any of that

And then one day, while John is in Tesco ambling around with a half empty basket, the phone, Sherlock’s phone buzzes inside his pocket. He stops dead, eyes widening and pulls it out. Before looking he stills himself and reminds himself that it’s probably just a wrong number or a mistake of some kind, maybe even a message he sent himself that has been delayed for some reason, it happens.

He sighs and turns the phone over, running his fingers over it like it’s some kind of precious object. The screen is lit, telling him there’s a new message, he pushes the button to open it.

Suddenly stiff fingers drop the shopping basket, sending it contents scattering across the vinyl floor. The phone slips from his other hand, bouncing on the hard surface and the screen cracks as once heavy feet are suddenly light in their hurried flight from the store.

The phone lies broken but still on and readable, the message reads *I’m sorry John, come home and don’t forget the milk. -SH*

I did not need to be crying this early in the morning 

fighting-john-watsons-war:

theatretroubles:

#this is the most realistic portrayal of what would happen if you were to randomly burst into song 

And this is why I love Enchanted. It’s like a Disney movie and a Disney parody at the same time.

I may be the only one, but I respect Enchanted as I do every other Musical—even if it wasn’t a stage production first. 

this movie is also the only disney movie where the actual prince questions the random singing and does not in fact realize he is a disney prince. 

Reblogged from alostbluebox  561 notes
loki-sherlocki:

Merlin AU - The Stars With You, Anytime

The Geminids peak this weekend. It’s the last major meteor shower of the year.
It’s not a good night for viewing. The conditions are terrible, actually - the moon is almost full and the night sky is littered with scattered clouds, wispy and reddish-brown. The only open area in the vicinity is still much too close to the city, so the light pollution is going to be insane. And Geminids is an extremely popular shower. There’s guaranteed to be a huge crowd congregating at the field. Arthur doesn’t like crowds.
But Merlin pouts. Merlin begs. Arthur can never deny Merlin anything.
He lets Merlin drag him out to the field. Merlin happily smooths the mat out on the ground. Arthur sits down with a grumble. In the background, there’s an irritating hum of overlapping conversation as other watchers gather for the night.
Arthur’s fingers trail lightly across the dewy grass. 
Soon Merlin is laughing, pointing up. Merlin’s skin is pale and glimmering under the sheen of silver moonlight; Merlin is babbling something about comets and constellations; Merlin has never looked more fey with his too-long limbs and his too-large ears. He meets Arthur’s eyes with a brilliant smile, his face framed by the cold brush of stars against the cloak of night. Words die on Arthur’s lips. He knows, bone-deep, that nothing, nothing he’ll ever see again in his life can match the beauty of this sight. It takes his breath away.
Arthur isn’t even thinking of the stars.

loki-sherlocki:

Merlin AU - The Stars With You, Anytime

The Geminids peak this weekend. It’s the last major meteor shower of the year.

It’s not a good night for viewing. The conditions are terrible, actually - the moon is almost full and the night sky is littered with scattered clouds, wispy and reddish-brown. The only open area in the vicinity is still much too close to the city, so the light pollution is going to be insane. And Geminids is an extremely popular shower. There’s guaranteed to be a huge crowd congregating at the field. Arthur doesn’t like crowds.

But Merlin pouts. Merlin begs. Arthur can never deny Merlin anything.

He lets Merlin drag him out to the field. Merlin happily smooths the mat out on the ground. Arthur sits down with a grumble. In the background, there’s an irritating hum of overlapping conversation as other watchers gather for the night.

Arthur’s fingers trail lightly across the dewy grass. 

Soon Merlin is laughing, pointing up. Merlin’s skin is pale and glimmering under the sheen of silver moonlight; Merlin is babbling something about comets and constellations; Merlin has never looked more fey with his too-long limbs and his too-large ears. He meets Arthur’s eyes with a brilliant smile, his face framed by the cold brush of stars against the cloak of night. Words die on Arthur’s lips. He knows, bone-deep, that nothing, nothing he’ll ever see again in his life can match the beauty of this sight. It takes his breath away.

Arthur isn’t even thinking of the stars.

Reblogged from ellenharvelle  113,563 notes
oncomingbeth:

the-spunkiest-spy:

rancis-motherfluggers:

theunfler:

besbaw-kuwata:

booksandwildthings:

Anyone wanna take bets on how long it’ll take before people start shipping them?

link is actually kinda cute
and so is quote

i ship chat and video

I don’t know look at the way video is looking at audio…

Welcome to tumblr where everything is shippable including tumblr itself.


text and chat though, that’s where it’s all att

oncomingbeth:

the-spunkiest-spy:

rancis-motherfluggers:

theunfler:

besbaw-kuwata:

booksandwildthings:

Anyone wanna take bets on how long it’ll take before people start shipping them?

link is actually kinda cute

and so is quote

i ship chat and video

I don’t know look at the way video is looking at audio…

Welcome to tumblr where everything is shippable including tumblr itself.

text and chat though, that’s where it’s all att

justafanboy:

the-legit-alois:

harrysthefather:

tony-can-pierce-my-veil:

gettin-nakie-outside:

witchyroses:

kickthebuttstickz:

fantasticallyshantastic:

stickyhunter:

fanuary:

stickyhunter:

ollivandur:

adxn:

Calm your tits! D:!

i’M TRYING But IT’s HARDER THAN IT LOOKS

image

HOLD UP! I have a solution to this!

image

Follow my lead, people!

image

Simply pat your boobs and tell say ‘Everything will be fine. It’s okay.’

image

Then everything will be fine.

You dumb females. This is obviously fake.

image

Huh? What is this?

image

image

image

YE DID NOT HEAD MY WARNING

image

Okay…

THIS IS THE FUNNIEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN

This is the only “hey girls” that I fully support

I wonder what mine do…

MYGOD

IDONT EVEN CARE HOW LONG THIS POST IS THIS IS THE FUNNIEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN YM ENTIRE LIFE

Can we look at that guy in the Thor T-shirt and how he looks like Thor?

or Jesus. 

He’s jesthor