my brother's mouse

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

grim is amazing and if you think otherwise I will fight you

Grim belongs to @nighttimepixels / @skeletonsgrim idontknowwhichtotag–


DO NOT USE OR REPOST WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! REBLOG INSTEAD!

So I was showing my super straight dude-bro of a brother a picture of Cas that I drew and he asked me to show him the reference I used so I googled ‘Misha Collins face’ to show him and this is literally what happened:

My Brother: …*stares*

My Brother:  *squints and leans closer to screen*

My Brother:….what’s his name again?

Me: Misha Collins…

My Brother: Huh…”keeps staring*

My Brother: *takes mouse* *clicks on another picture of Misha’s face*

My Brother: ….His eyes are fuckin’ baller, hey?

Me: *stares at my brother* …yeah.

My Brother: Whoa….*clicks on another picture*

My Brother: …he’s…I mean, if I was…he’s kinda, like…pretty, you know?  Like really…

My Brother: *awkwardly clears throat and stands up* Ok, I’ll see you later.

My Brother: *leaves*


I think my brother had a mild sexuality crisis because of Misha’s face.

shakespeareandsprinkles  asked:

Molliarty, 85?

Taken from this list, for Molliarty and Sherlolly.

Guyyyyss SEND MORE. I’M NOT DONE YET. 


85. “Take notes, sweetheart.” 

Molly’s wrists were hurting. She shut her eyes, evening her breathing.

One.

“So,” said the woman standing behind her. “What’ll it be Jimmy?”

“An interesting proposition,” said Jim. His voice was perfectly, completely, recognizably himself.

Oh, he was seething.

Molly had no idea who this woman was, or what she was trying to do by threatening Jim this way. She held no allusions about what she meant to Jim – Jim didn’t like his toys taken by someone else, and whoever she was – Molly prayed she knew what she was doing.

“I feel rather like a Disney hero,” drawled Jim. “Where’s the railway track? Poor Molly, tied to a chair. That’s rather boring, if I do say so, Eurus.”

Eurus – whoever the hell she was – stepped in front of Molly.

“I want to know why not this one, Jimmy. Tell me why.”

Molly bit her tongue, and shut her eyes again.

Two.

Softly, Molly –

Crack.

“Take notes, sweetheart,” said Jim, his voice breathy on the phone. “Molly Hooper is off limits.”

Molly’s memory could not fail her at this time –

Three.

She swiped her leg forward, hoping beyond hope that her plan would work.

Her broken wrist slipped easily from the tight ropes –

She could feel nothing but arms and legs, her mind blurred with adrenaline, dangerously close to passing out due to her pain.

Eurus tripped, thanks to Molly. And Molly jumped on her, grabbing the gun from her hand.

Deep breaths, Molly.

The woman – Eurus – was looking at her from her curtain of black hair, her dead, strange eyes looking at her with a curiosity that Molly found disarming.

Molly aimed the gun.

“Well done, darling,” said Jim boredly. Molly could feel the relief under his drawl, but she really didn’t have time for him to save her.

Molly didn’t say anything to Eurus.

“Go ahead, dear,” said Eurus. “Wouldn’t you like to?”

“Molly,” said Jim. “No.”

She had no idea why Jim was worried now. It would be nice if she could kill with ease just as he could, if she was just as mad as he was. It might even be fun.

“Why not?” asked Molly quietly.

No,” said Jim. Jim’s voice never changed, not when she was in danger, not when she was in pain. This was the first time Molly had heard – heard – something like –

Desperation.

It was in undertone, but it was there. Masked by authority, by anger – even by worry.

Jim and Molly, sitting on a tree,” breathed Eurus. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

Molly flinched. “Can I please go?” she asked Eurus.

“Be my guest,” said Eurus. “There is going to be a time, my dear little Mouse. My brother has an appointment with you. Remember that.”

Molly really didn’t want to know.