If you're interested in bad writing, Ao Oni or Hetalia, we can get along great!
If not, we can probably make this work... I'll try. ^^
Ask me anything
So this just happened on my dash..
I want to take a dollar bill and write “are you Misha Collins” on it and maybe one day it’ll end up in his hands and he’d be the one mind fucked for once
the journey has begun…
DOING THIS ON EVERY DOLLAR I COME ACROSS
Like I said
fandom will take over american currency
i cannot wait til he gets one and tweets about it omfg
GUYS ITS GETTING AROUND
I love blogging and reblogging here on tumblr and my dash is feeling abit empty. I want my blog to explode with all of its goodness.
I’ll reblog this, follow me and or I’ll follow you if you post:
I LOVE YOU ALL AND WILL LOVE ALL OF YOU TO FOLLOW ! ! ! !
AsylumWaiting Room of the Big Three.
it’s funny because it looks like the sherlock fandom are sane here
Sherlock bustled about the kitchen, throwing a cupboard door open and pushing aside a box of nicotine patches to retrieve two mismatched mugs. A kettle whistled plaintively in the background, like it had been trying to draw attention to itself for a while now. Setting the mugs aside, Sherlock absently pulled the kettle off the stove, poured tea into the two mugs, and carried them into the living room.
Doctor Who was sprawled over the same chair it had collapsed into last night, when it had appeared at the door muttering inanely about lost regenerations and knackered navigations systems. It made a whining noise as Sherlock tucked the shock blanket it had thrown off in the night back around its shoulders.
Supernatural was in similar straits, curled up on the floor with a throw pillow and a tattered trench coat around its shoulders and alternating between sobbing and muttering about domesticity potential.
A thudding on the stairs indicated the ruckus had finally awoke Merlin, who poked its head into the room, hair sticking up at all angels as it tied its scarf around its neck. Blinking blearily at the mess, it seemed to realize what had occurred when it picked up a discarded bow-tie from the floor, holding it between forefinger and thumb, “Is it that time already?”
“It was bad this year,” Sherlock whispered, trying not to exacerbate the already fragile fandoms under its care.
“I remember what that was like,” Merlin muttered, running a hand through its hair and pulling a cape off the nearby coat rack, “I’ll go to the store. We’re out of milk again. May as well pick up some fish fingers, custard, and salt.”
Supernatural gurgled something quietly.
“No, I won’t forget the pie.”
I SWEAR TO GOD TUMBLR NEVER FUCKING CHANGE
will commit illegal crimes in exchange for mozzarella sticks
Pretty please with a cherry on top reblog if you post:
and did I mention:
MISHA FREAKING COLLINS
I follow back, spread the superwholock goodness around please!
wait so if I post misha collins is that okay?
Oh yes. More than okay.
(LET ME LOVE YOU)