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[hobbitonmydick]

oh, you said foreplay. i thought you said ‘wordplay’!

[hobbitonmydick]

A Poem About Banning Trans-Affirming Care

“The Sinking Feeling” by Charlie P.

The world is unaffected

Drifting happily down their streams

That have carried them lazily, their whole lives

While I am drowning

In a current that I knew would catch up to me

It was only a matter of time

The world is unbothered

As they cling to their harnesses

Fastened onto them by God themselves

While I am falling fast

Through the air at hellish speeds

Because God holds no remorse for my delves

The world is indifferent

To the horrors written only in their “Holy Book”

And they claim the right to call us the sinners

So while they sip their homegrown sweet tea

And say “it’s for the children”

They don’t know that we are swimming in our tears.

[hobbitonmydick]

GUYS HE SAID IT MISHA FUCKING SAID THAT CAS IS CANONICALLY GAY IM CRYING HAPPY LAST DAY OF PRIDE MONTH!!!

[hobbitonmydick]

This is a good point! But here’s another thing to think about: what if Dean didn’t want John’s death to affect Mary in a more-negative way? Like, he wanted him to go in the least bloody and brutal way possible to save his mom some heartache.

is nobody going to talk about how djinns grant your deepest wishes and dean had his whole life, his whole family together, but his dad was still dead, meaning that dean wanted john to be dead?

and I’m assuming he didn’t want him and sam to be close because he felt as though sam was better off without him.

[hobbitonmydick]

is nobody going to talk about how djinns grant your deepest wishes and dean had his whole life, his whole family together, but his dad was still dead, meaning that dean wanted john to be dead?

and I’m assuming he didn’t want him and sam to be close because he felt as though sam was better off without him.

[hobbitonmydick]

Here, have this picture of jim beaver wearing an ally shirt for pride month:

[hobbitonmydick]

British person: yeah so I was hanging out with my mummy yesterday and—

Egyptian person: your what

[hobbitonmydick]

enough of all this “kissing” and “cuddling” nonsense. Imagine Sherlock taking a bullet for John. No second thoughts, no considering the possible outcomes. Just pure reflex. Then imagine John kicking the shooter’s ass (then shooting them with their own gun), and running to fall on his knees at Sherlock’s side. He’s got the detective’s head cradled on his lap, brushing his curly hair out of his eyes. Sherlock is choking on his own blood, trying to speak, only to allow more of it into his mouth. After several failed attempts at saying something to comfort the dying man (though John didn’t want to admit that that was what was happening), John just presses his lips to Sherlock’s. He gets a taste of the blood. But he savors the taste because it is the last — and the only — sample of Sherlock he will ever have. And then as the light behind Sherlock’s eyes gets dimmer and dimmer, John allows his tears to fall onto the other’s face. For a moment, the two of them are human. Then one of them is no more. And then it’s just John, a corpse in his arms, blood in his mouth, and a pain in his stomach. His best friend is gone.

[hobbitonmydick]

I don’t know who this Shy Beef person is but he’s sure been in a lot of movies.

[hobbitonmydick]

Androgynous people are literally the devil like who are you tryna confuse??? GOD???

[hobbitonmydick]

Sleeping? No, I’m performing an entire broadway musical to my modest collection of stuffed animals.

[hobbitonmydick]

The best thing about John and Sherlock sharing a flat is that neither of them have to do the walk of shame after they shag.

[hobbitonmydick]

John: what are we doing here, Sherlock? No, seriously, what?

Sherlock: I don’t know.

John: are we here to see the queen?

*mycroft enters*

Sherlock: Apparently yes.

[hobbitonmydick]

Again, for people who ship Bagginsheild:

Imagine Bilbo being unable to sleep, whether that be due to excitement, insomnia, or anxiety. Imagine Thorin comes to where Bilbo is sleeping, alerted by Bilbo’s pitiful groans and the rustling of his tossing body. Imagine Thorin lays next to Bilbo and they’re facing each other.

“Oh, um, hi, Thorin.” Bilbo says.

“Can you not sleep, master burglar?” The dwarf asks. His eyes are soft; knowing.

“Not really,” Bilbo replies.

And so Thorin pulls Bilbo just a little bit closer, enough to where the warmth of their bodies meet in a common middle. As soon as Thorin begins to hum in his deep baritone voice, Bilbo recognizes the tune.

“Far over the misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away ere break of day

To find our long-forgotten gold

The pines were roaring on the height

The winds were moaning in the night

The fire was red, it flaming spread

The trees like torches blazed with light…”

It isn’t long before Bilbo finds himself growing heavy where he lies. His eyes, though he wants to remain fixated on Thorin’s moving lips and his caring gaze, begin to drift closed. And it isn’t long after that before he is asleep, the deepest parts of Thorin’s voice still hanging in his mind.

[hobbitonmydick]

[hobbitonmydick]

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK DID I WALK IN ON

bc of my crack fic people have been sending me every manner of Grinch x Tony the Tiger headcanon……who wants to hear the one that finally snapped me like a tennis player’s tendon

[hobbitonmydick]

every gay mf ever