Allons-y

morlarty:

Things i want in Series 4:

  • Drunk Moriarty
  • For it to happen before 2056
  • John to say ‘no shit, Sherlock’
  • John to get pissed off at Sherlock and shout ‘WILLIAM SHERLOCK SCOTT HOLMES’ to which Sherlock replies ‘JOHN HAMISH WATSON’
  • JOHN TO SAY ‘NO SHIT, SHERLOCK’
  • Moriarty to walk into 221B with Staying alive playing from his phone and he just says ‘surprise, bitch’
  • JOHN TO SAY ‘NO SHIT, SHERLOCK’

partyin221b:

the-fandoms-are-cool:

cinderelvis:

oohtheyhavenibbles:

eggzist:

*does the cup song with the goblet of fire*

image

you’re gonna miss me when i’m gone

TOO SOON

IT’S BEEN TEN YEARS

Fuck it has been 10 years.

penutbutterqueen:

antolovich:

thepandabaker:

adeyami:

Land of the free home of the rich

What really scares me is that they all have significantly cheaper health care AND education, which means Americans not only make they least, they pay the most.

…wait, what?

Bish whet? Fuck America

penutbutterqueen:

antolovich:

thepandabaker:

adeyami:

Land of the free home of the rich

What really scares me is that they all have significantly cheaper health care AND education, which means Americans not only make they least, they pay the most.

…wait, what?

Bish whet? Fuck America

theaveragefish:

why the hell did we all learn the exact words

"the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell"

anuvia:

cinnamonfart:

"OH MY GOD FROZEN DISNEY ONLY EVER DOES MOVIES ABOUT WHITE PEOPLE THEY’RE SO RACIST I HATE THEM"

Disney only does movies about white people.
It’s disgusting

How they never have

any people of color

from any other cultures

And they totally glorify the white man

And totally marginalize their plights

And overall refuses to give children of color characters to relate to

Those racist bastards.

anuvia:

cinnamonfart:

"OH MY GOD FROZEN DISNEY ONLY EVER DOES MOVIES ABOUT WHITE PEOPLE THEY’RE SO RACIST I HATE THEM"

Disney only does movies about white people.

It’s disgusting

How they never have

any people of color

from any other cultures

And they totally glorify the white man

And totally marginalize their plights

And overall refuses to give children of color characters to relate to

Those racist bastards.

hemmosauce:

taking-the-hobbit-to-erebor:

babyferaligator:

picassojawbone:

this show is for little kids but it is the funniest shit I have ever seen

whats that mythbusters dude doin

is this attack on titan

once in art class my teacher played this on the projector for a full hour 

hemmosauce:

taking-the-hobbit-to-erebor:

babyferaligator:

picassojawbone:

this show is for little kids but it is the funniest shit I have ever seen

whats that mythbusters dude doin

is this attack on titan

once in art class my teacher played this on the projector for a full hour 

storytime-my-dears:

captainarlert:

rivai-regret-nothing:

yukine-kun:

the-lovely-night-owl:

I’M SO SORRY

IF YOU WERE REALLY SORRY YOU WOULDN’T HAVE POSTED THIS YOU ASSHOLE

THIS IS NOT AND NEVER WILL BE OKAY 

THAT LAST ONE REALLY WASNT OK

WHAT MOTIVATED YOU TO DO THIS

dellconahger:

when people draw fat/chubby characters skinny
image

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
FULL naked.
REAL naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.