The only thing you could possibly hate about tumblr is how many SPOILERS!
Me having a peaceful lunch. Suddenly…
me: Micheal Jackson’s Beat It was about masturbating right?
*awkward silence*
DAFQ BRAIN?!
my brother tried to pick up a banana to make it look like he was talking on the phone but all the bananas in the bunch came with it and he just looked at me and went “i guess it’s a conference call”
Brilliant! :D
justin bieber’s transition from uncomfortable looking child to extremely hot peer of mine was so seamless it spooks me out
For all of you who are hopeless, here, have hope.
Number one rule guys.
NUMBER. ONE. RULE.
I tried to use Alt+Reblog and it sent me to the reblog page
Tumblr wants me to do this specially
I shall obey
ALWAYS REBLOG A PHOTO OF YOUR LEADER NO MATTER WHAT NUMBER ONE RULE
Damn he’s fine.
*tumblegasm*
“There is no way out,” he said, glancing up slightly before returning to his rubber ball. Amy stared, echoes of the doors sliding shut ringing in her ears with a dreadful finality. Scoffing, she shook herself out of it, smiling slightly.
“Nah, I’ve been in enough tight spots to know that’s not true. Just a matter of time.”
His voice turned sharp and impossibly deeper, eyes narrowing. “I’ve scanned this room a total of thirty-eight times. There are no windows, no ventilation systems, nothing. This runs on something entirely different. No fingerprints— so I suspect that I am the first here, except for the fact that that… mirror-like magnifying glass has been used multiple times, which means somebody is very good at cleaning after himself. There is only one chair, and no way out from where we came. Material of this door—” Here he gestured behind Amy, who turned to look, “—is denser than the outside. There is no plausible reason to expect a way out. In fact…”
Amy turned her head to look away, but found that she could not turn her gaze away. “…What?”
“Red hair, curled. Clothes fairly new, yet in an older style than this— one that I recognize, while not completely familiar with. Accent signifies an area of Scotland, yet you have the undercurrent of an English accent— given your red hair and freckles, I’m inclined to believe that you moved from Scotland into an area of England at some point in your youth and refused to let go of it; children do. Necklace expensive— more so than your clothes, and matches the ring on your finger— married, then, and to a very generous husband. Ah, your eyes change light at that— you love him, then. Good, I suppose. That’s meant to be good. So you’re very obviously from Earth, then— which, I’m sure even you have realized, is not where we are at the moment, and if we are, it’s not something I recognize to any degree. Perhaps military. Then again, military bases look nothing like this.”
Amy blinked and cleared her throat. “Er, no. We’re not on Earth. Apalapachia, actually. Number two on the Top Ten… Destinations for the Discerning Space Traveller, or something mad like that.”
“This is not your own information, yet you are inclined to trust it.” It was a statement. “Whoever told you this was your friend, and one who you either trust immensely, or one who knows a great deal about this— and you’ve experience with this. Lots of experience.”
“A little of both, actually.” Amy raised an eyebrow and ventured nearer to sit next to the man. “And I’m on vacation.”
He scoffed. “I already knew that.”
“Yeah? How?”
“I already mentioned the clothes— while ill-suited for this environment, they still boast a certain… frivolity,” he said distastefully. “Your makeup is done more than usual, and must have taken a while to finish— yet its natural look is one you were trying for and you have no bags or circles under your eyes. Most women think they can hide those effectively,” he finished smugly, “but there are always traces.” He leaned back, twisting the ball between his fingers, and she took the time to glance over him— well groomed, suit fitting remarkably well, clean shoes, and curly hair. Attractive, of course.
“You’re a bit weird,” she sighed, leaning her head back against the wall, too. “But, you know, I’m used to it. You sound like my friend, a bit. More serious, though.”
His lips tightened. “You also remind me of a… good friend.”
“Oh?” Amy raised an eyebrow. “Does this friend have a name?” Her teasing tone darkened slightly. “Oi, do you have a name?”
He raised an eyebrow right back. “Holmes. Sherlock Holmes.” She laughed, and the eyebrow raised further.
“You’re kidding me. C’mon, I’m not an idiot. I loved those books as a kid.”
“Books?” His brow furrowed.
“Yeah, you know. Consulting detective and his army doctor friend and all that. Solving mysteries. I always thought there was a bit more going on behind the scenes, you know?” She laughed.
“I do not know,” he replied irritably.
Amy stared. “Hang on… are you really?”
“Am I really what?” he said.
“Sherlock Holmes.”
“Yes, I’ve just said that.” He sighed dramatically. “Idiots, all of you. I’d have hoped to find intelligent life on other planets, but I can see that that expectation was created in vain.”
“Hey! Stop that.” She settled back comfortably. “I’ve met a lot of idiots in my day and I know how to deal with them all.” He chuckled and she shivered. He sounded amused— at her and her words. Patronizing. “I’m Amelia. Amelia Pond.”
Now he glanced up sharply, staring. “That’s ridiculous. Stop that at once.”
“What?”
“You’re not lying.” His eyes narrowed again, and he turned himself to stare at her. She shifted under his gaze, refusing to look away or blink first. “You travel, yes? With company, I’m sure. Your husband, most likely.”
“Well, yeah. Rory’s a bit of an idiot, though.”
“Yes,” he mused. “He is not the one who provided you with the name of this…”
“Planet.” Amy said. “No.”
“That would be the Doctor, then.”
“Ye— I… what?” She stood up abruptly, staring down at him. “How did you know that?”
“You see me in books, I see you on screen…” He trailed off.
She stared suspiciously at him. “You’re mad,” she decided.
“You’re used to it.”
“… yeah.” She sighed, sitting down next to him again. “He’ll be here sometime, anyways. He won’t give up. Be pleased to meet you, though. He’ll probably start… I don’t know. Jumping around. Offer you a fez. Ask for that hat of yours.”
Sherlock groaned in displeasure, looking away. “It’s not my hat. And John will be looking for us, as well.”
After a beat, she started again. “So you and John, yeah? There are things going on there, aren’t there?”
Sherlock sighed, leaning back and attempting to ignore the girl’s chatter. John would throw an excitable fit, whenever they found each other.
In the meanwhile, all that was left was waiting.
adsdgfsgdhfj thank you so much for this fanfic ♥
//hugs
O_O my life has been made.
