(via colinmorgod)


chlotana:

baby-youremyliquor:

chlotana:

why isn’t “so….yeah.” an acceptable conclusion on a 10 page paper

I’ve not really ever had Starbucks… Someone take me?

literally what the fuck

(via themonsterinsidemeisme)


yukimeanssnow:

when ziva looked at gibbs at the end of double blind with those big brown eyes of hers, just like:

“daddy no this can’t be happening”

(via thedoctor-rosetyler-thetardis)


lilkisara:

you are weird but I like you

(via shrimpbuddyuno)


thediagonallie:

when I was in high school my AP english teacher told us we weren’t allowed to eat in class so I took that as a personal challenge to see what the most ridiculous thing I could eat in class without getting caught was so I started bringing soup to class and as soon as I’d crack the lid of my thermos the tiniest bit this football player that sat like 3 rows in front of me would going “I SMELL MEAT SOMEONE HAS SOUP” and no one ever believed him

(via theswordandthescarf)


“A Poem for the Fandoms”

goodbooksgoodcrafts:

Merlin is over

And Hogwarts is too

Sam and Dean’s battle

Is almost through

Donna is gone

The Ponds are as well

John is sad

Because Sherlock fell

In case you were having

A good sort-of day

I wrote you this poem

To chase it away.


not-our-tardis:

danyulhowll:

losingmyangelgrace:

wingsofthetardis:

thisisalldeansfault:

destiel-is-superwholocked:

jesus-on-a-unicycle:

Based on this

how about no

WHO THE FUCK-

THE TEXT POST HURT ENOUGH

wow a great fuck you for you

WHO MADE A GIF SET OF THE POEM THAT RUINED MY LIFE

FUCK YOU.

image

DO YOU WANT TO GET PUNCHED IN THE THROAT

image

(via shrimpbuddyuno)


I had an auto-repair man once, who, on these intelligence tests, could not possibly have scored more than 80, by my estimate. I always took it for granted that I was far more intelligent than he was. Yet, when anything went wrong with my car I hastened to him with it, watched him anxiously as he explored its vitals, and listened to his pronouncements as though they were divine oracles - and he always fixed my car.
Well, then, suppose my auto-repair man devised questions for an intelligence test. Or suppose a carpenter did, or a farmer, or, indeed, almost anyone but an academician. By every one of those tests, I’d prove myself a moron, and I’d be a moron, too. In a world where I could not use my academic training and my verbal talents but had to do something intricate or hard, working with my hands, I would do poorly. My intelligence, then, is not absolute but is a function of the society I live in and of the fact that a small subsection of that society has managed to foist itself on the rest as an arbiter of such matters.
Consider my auto-repair man, again. He had a habit of telling me jokes whenever he saw me. One time he raised his head from under the automobile hood to say: “Doc, a deaf-and-mute guy went into a hardware store to ask for some nails. He put two fingers together on the counter and made hammering motions with the other hand. The clerk brought him a hammer. He shook his head and pointed to the two fingers he was hammering. The clerk brought him nails. He picked out the sizes he wanted, and left. Well, doc, the next guy who came in was a blind man. He wanted scissors. How do you suppose he asked for them?”
Indulgently, I lifted my right hand and made scissoring motions with my first two fingers. Whereupon my auto-repair man laughed raucously and said, “Why, you dumb jerk, He used his voice and asked for them.” Then he said smugly, “I’ve been trying that on all my customers today.” “Did you catch many?” I asked. “Quite a few,” he said, “but I knew for sure I’d catch you.” “Why is that?” I asked. “Because you’re so goddamned educated, doc, I knew you couldn’t be very smart.

cumberqueen:

walkamongstthestars:

S: The thing is, the Benedict sees is a little different to the Benedict we know[…] so the Benedict that all the girls love and stuff, it’s- it’s a myth.

[x]

WATCH THE VIDEO I AM PISSING MYSELF

(via velociraptorsarah)


hiddle-batched:

This is the first time I’ve ever seen an archer in a film run out of arrows or collect used arrows to reuse later.

Accuracy: You’re doing it right.

(via velociraptorsarah)