1. BBC, darling… we need this

    annagarny:

    We need a 12-month calendar with a selection your lovely actors in it.

    We would request the following

    Mr January to be Mr Cumberbatch… in that purple shirt… or his sheet. Your discretion.

    Mr February - Likely Mr Eccleston in that leather jacket.

    Mr March - Mr Scott (of course) in something tailored, he’s rather scrumptious in Westwood… and Reiss.

    Mr April - Mr Smith, of course. In his bow tie. That should do it.

    Mr May - Mr Darvill… if you please. In some black-rimmed spectacles.

    Mr June - Oh, Mr Tennant would be great right about here… he’s got leather pants, hasn’t he? And with some eyeliner, that would be lovely.

    Mr July - Mr Freeman, you look great in a stripey jumper.

    Mr August - Mr Gorman, all kinds of mysterious, and very dangerous. He looks good in leather, too.

    Mr September - Mr Graves. He’s delightful, white shirts really set off his tan.

    Mr October - Mr Norton. Let him dress himself, because he is so fantastic that he’ll put your stylists to shame.

    Mr November - Mr Fielding. Same goes for him - any stylist would fail miserably if they tried to dress him.

    Mr December - Mr Barrowman. In a Santa hat. And not much else, please. Don’t worry about having to convince him, the man will happily get his kit off for us fangirls.

    Of course, the other option is, of course -

    Mr January - to -December…

    The divine Mr Hiddleston.

    BBC, I will leave this in your capable hands.

     
  2. Sweet Odin on a pogo stick - MARTY THIS IS PERFECT.

    Loki strode through the museum, smirking to himself, London was going to be the perfect place to start this entire production.

    He rounded a corner and hoisted his staff, swinging it through fully two-hundred-and-seventy degrees to connect with the security guard’s face even as the man turned to question him, sending him flying. The body slid along the marble floor and came to a halt in the middle of the crowd - silence fell as he glared around at the men and women in evening wear.

    Then someone screamed and the panic began.

    Sherlock and John, at the back of the room, didn’t even have to look at each other.

    "Should we-"
    "Absolutely." Sherlock cut his blogger off before catching John by one cuff and dragging him through the crowd, out a side door and almost slamming bodily into Dean Winchester, lurking in the shadows as usual.

    "Do I even want to know what you’re doing here?"
    "He bought me. Something about an event that I can help out with?" Dean jerked a thumb over his shoulder and Sherlock leaned to one side, biting back a groan as he spotted the man in the glasses and the brown pin-striped suit, sonic screwdriver hanging at his side as he observed the chaos with one eyebrow raised.
    "Is that-" John began, but Sherlock cut him off, again.
    "Yes, it is, now be quiet!"

     Lok strode through the crowd, allowing his outfit to morph from the suit-and-tie to his leather and metal Asgardian ensemble, complete with his massive horned helmet. He then proceeded to cast a half-dozen copies of himself around the square, herding the panicked crowd back into a confined space before slamming the staff onto the ground.

    "Kneel before me."

    Lestrade, at the edge of the crowd, recognised the threat immediately and began shouting for people to obey.
    "Do as he says!"
    "KNEEL!" Loki shouted, not even acknowledging the D.I.’s attempts to get the rest of the humans present to do as he said.

    Sherlock, just out of sight, poked his head around the edge of the building and his eyes widened in shock as he saw that the man who had just moments ago been in a rather dapper bespoke suit was now dressed in black leather and gold, holding a staff that emitted a strange blue light and raising his hands above the now-kneeling crowd, beginning a speech about how this was the natural state of humanity.

    "Loki?" The Doctor’s eyebrows drew together as he recognised the green-eyed god, and Dean chuckled.

    "Look at the guy’s helmet."

    "Do you really think now is the best time to joke, Dean?" Sherlock demanded, even as John tugged at his cuff, attempting to get his attention - there was a holographic copy of the god approaching the four of them, in the alley behind the museum. They were about to be caught.

    "Sorry." Dean muttered, just as the Loki-copy found them.

     
  3. BBC, darling… we need this

    We need a 12-month calendar with a selection your lovely actors in it.

    We would request the following

    Mr January to be Mr Cumberbatch… in that purple shirt… or his sheet. Your discretion.

    Mr February - Likely Mr Eccleston in that leather jacket.

    Mr March - Mr Scott (of course) in something tailored, he’s rather scrumptious in Westwood… and Reiss.

    Mr April - Mr Smith, of course. In his bow tie. That should do it.

    Mr May - Mr Darvill… if you please. In some black-rimmed spectacles.

    Mr June - Oh, Mr Tennant would be great right about here… he’s got leather pants, hasn’t he? And with some eyeliner, that would be lovely.

    Mr July - Mr Freeman, you look great in a stripey jumper.

    Mr August - Mr Gorman, all kinds of mysterious, and very dangerous. He looks good in leather, too.

    Mr September - Mr Graves. He’s delightful, white shirts really set off his tan.

    Mr October - Mr Norton. Let him dress himself, because he is so fantastic that he’ll put your stylists to shame.

    Mr November - Mr Fielding. Same goes for him - any stylist would fail miserably if they tried to dress him.

    Mr December - Mr Barrowman. In a Santa hat. And not much else, please. Don’t worry about having to convince him, the man will happily get his kit off for us fangirls.

    Of course, the other option is, of course -

    Mr January - to -December…

    The divine Mr Hiddleston.

    BBC, I will leave this in your capable hands.