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angelproofed:

Favourite Supernatural Episodes - In My Time of Dying

“You know when you are were a kid, I’d come home from a hunt and after what I’d seen… I’d be wrecked. And you… You’d come up to me. You’d put your hand on my shoulder and you’d look me in the eye and you’d… You’d say. “It’s okay dad.” Dean I’m sorry. You shouldn’t of had to say that to me. I should of been saying that to you.”

a-cumberbatch-of-cookies:

cloudwatchingangels:

fionapondwilliams:

prends-la-vie-comme-elle-vient:

Asylum Waiting 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
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a-cumberbatch-of-cookies:

cloudwatchingangels:

fionapondwilliams:

prends-la-vie-comme-elle-vient:

Asylum Waiting 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

princessofnerds:

fandomwarrior:

dontevergrowupinneverland:

a-time-lord-wallflower:

hungerybunny:

tardisbluecommunity:

theelbowpatch:

loganhasseenthelight:

teapots-and-traditions:

bewareofabbeyroad:

sherlockshiverandshake:

consulting-meerkat:

gracefulrainyautumn:

emptytrolls:

gallifrey-feels:

“Proof” updated version.

STOP IT I’M FREAKING OUT

I am both scared and excited

LET’S NOT FORGET THE FUCKING DALEK EYESTALK THAT WASHED UP IN FLORIDA

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Or the Utah Cave Painting resembling the TARDIS~

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let me repost this again

Not to mention the fact Mars is full of water.

Ladies and gentlemen, Gallifrey

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Remember those things the Master had? So:

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Crack in time?

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HE LIVES.

So now I’m just gonna sit down and wait.

i just nearly fell down the stairs running to tell my dad that the doctor is real and that the internet has proof… 

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let’s not forget about this painting that has been made in 1959.It looks like Amy and Rory who actually lived somewhere around that time

This is my favorite post ever

Everytime I see this post again, it has been updated with lots more information that seriously make me if all is real.

It is real.

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