My really good day went to complete fucking shit and I don’t even know what happened.
Reblogged from bisexualjohn
Mary was going to let John grieve again and she WASN’T GOING TO TELL JOHN THAT SHE WAS THE ONE WHO KILLED SHERLOCK.
How do you do that? How do you murder your husband’s best friend, plan on not telling your husband, and just go on soothing and comforting him? Living all the lies that would need to be lived to keep up that facade of innocence? How can you DO THAT.
Thinking about how it would have been had Sherlock actually stayed dead FUCKS. ME. UP.
Reblogged from life-moves-on-asdoesthesadness
I’ve put together a simple chart that explains the various ways you should and shouldn’t summon a waiter over to your table, and the service you’re likely to receive accordingly.
Because if one more middle aged, obnoxious asshole goes “hey you!” and snaps their fingers at me, I WILL snap said person’s neck.
I waitressed my way through college and one night this guy yells at me “Oi! you with the tits!” and my co-worker Matthew walked up to him and said “yes?”
Reblogged from dontbeanassbutt
but imagine if we had tiny little dragons
the size of puppies
and they would go wherever we went sitting on our shoulders and hissing at everyone who tried to touch you because you’re their most special thing in the universe and they are so tiny it’s ridiculously cute
the fact that this post has more notes than i ever expected makes me really glad