Jim Moriarty. Hi. So you won't know me. Consultant Criminal, world's best, and that's exactly why you don't know me. Sadly, that doesn't stop life from being painfully dull. Come and entertain me for a while? I love a good story.[Indie RP blogTracks: avillainsfairytale

M!A: None

Semi-hiatus] -JMx.

Problem? Please Read About Associates
Headcanons Possible AUs theme

queen-bitchass:

espressobean:

Man with suit made of Mentos is dunked in a tank full of Diet Coke.

DID HE SURVIVE

zohbugg:

SNAP SNAP SNAP
                 SNAP
            SNAP
        SNAP
    SNAP
SNAP SNAP SNAP

waywardandwanderlust:

heartsandmagic:

Cat doesn’t know what to do with the butterfly that flew on its paw.

I can’t breathe I’m laughing too hard

shell-tear-your-world-apart:

thecutestofthecute:

Mud + Pup = True happiness.

This made me ridiculously happy

- Don’t mess with the integrity of the…. Blerghhhhh blarrrhhh
- Crime scene!

kingofthewilderwest:

makenzie-rush:

puerpersonamccallmagica:

Plot twist: a disabled character is portrayed as a complex 3D character with their own agency and isn’t a villain due to a deformity,used as inspiration porn, or ~cured~ at the end

image

Gotta keep on reblogging and reblogging this for eternity like seriously.

ADHD is about having broken filters on your perception.

Normal people have a sort of mental secretary that takes the 99% of irrelevant crap that crosses their mind, and simply deletes it before they become consciously aware of it. As such, their mental workspace is like a huge clean whiteboard, ready to hold and organize useful information.

ADHD people… have no such luxury. Every single thing that comes in the front door gets written directly on the whiteboard in bold, underlined red letters, no matter what it is, and no matter what has to be erased in order for it to fit.

As such, if we’re in the middle of some particularly important mental task, and our eye should happen to light upon… a doorknob, for instance, it’s like someone burst into the room, clad in pink feathers and heralded by trumpets, screaming HEY LOOK EVERYONE, IT’S A DOORKNOB! LOOK AT IT! LOOK! IT OPENS THE DOOR IF YOU TURN IT! ISN’T THAT NEAT? I WONDER HOW THAT ACTUALLY WORKS DO YOU SUPPOSE THERE’S A CAM OR WHAT? MAYBE ITS SOME KIND OF SPRING WINCH AFFAIR ALTHOUGH THAT SEEMS KIND OF UNWORKABLE.

It’s like living in a soft rain of post-it notes.

This happens every single waking moment, and we have to manually examine each thought, check for relevance, and try desperately to remember what the thing was we were thinking before it came along, if not. Most often we forget, and if we aren’t caught up in the intricacies of doorknob engineering, we cast wildly about for context, trying to guess what the hell we were up to from the clues available.

On the other hand, we’re extremely good at working out the context of random remarks, as we’re effectively doing that all the time anyway.

We rely heavily on routine, and 90% of the time get by on autopilot. You can’t get distracted from a sufficiently ingrained habit, no matter what useless crap is going on inside your head… unless someone goes and actually disrupts your routine. I’ve actually been distracted out of taking my lunch to work, on several occasions, by my wife reminding me to take my lunch to work. What the? Who? Oh, yeah, will do. Where was I? um… briefcase! Got it. Now keys.. okay, see you honey!

Also, there’s a diminishing-returns thing going on when trying to concentrate on what you might call a non-interactive task. Entering a big block of numbers into a spreadsheet, for instance. Keeping focused on the task takes exponentially more effort each minute, for less and less result. If you’ve ever held a brick out at arm’s length for an extended period, you’ll know the feeling. That’s why the internet, for instance, is like crack to us - it’s a non-stop influx of constantly-new things, so we can flick from one to the next after only seconds. Its better/worse than pistachios.

The exception to this is a thing we get called hyper focus. Occasionally, when something just clicks with us, we can get ridiculously deeply drawn into it, and NOTHING can distract us. We’ve locked our metaphorical office door, and we’re not coming out for anything short of a tornado.

Medication takes the edge off. It reduces the input, it tones down the fluster, it makes it easier to ignore trivial stuff, and it increases the maximum focus-time. Imagine steadicam for your skull. It also happens to make my vision go a little weird and loomy occasionally, and can reduce appetite a bit.

Hope this helps and please do share this so that more people can learn what its really like to have ADHD.


~

Tickd mobile by factnotfiction (via book—wyrm)

This is incredibly spot on for my experiences, right down to my wife’s reminders.

In fact, I was just about to post something interesting when I found this post and now I have no idea what it was. I’m going to spend the next 20 minutes looking back over my feed to see if something re-triggers that exact random thought.

(via briangefrich)

Oh my god, this is exactly it. This is my brain. This is my life. Seriously if I’m doing something DO NOT INTERRUPT

In an essay for graduate school, I likened having ADHD with anxiety like having a brain full of a cloud of rainbow butterflies… Made of fire and razor wire. I can’t help but chase the thoughts, but then I realize that I’ve lost control of the task and have an anxiety attack / I’ve caught the butterfly but it’s dead and I’m bleeding and burned.

(via dytabytes)

master-of-duct-tape:

daily-asgardian-news:

JUST.FUCKING.WATCH.IT

do yourself a BIG favor and wait for the after-credit extra
LMFAO!!

sherlockology:

redeemed-from-the-earth:

Remember that time we won The Geekiary’s Favorite Summer Show poll?

Are you up for a spooky season rematch? Vote here!

We can do this again!

Mass voting schedule.

ETA: the poll isn’t closed yet, keep voting!

URGENT ACTION REQUIRED!

An In The Flesh fandom signal boost for the The Geekiary’s Favourite Summer Show Poll, because the Sherlock fandom is pretty good at getting behind polls and bringing them home - and also because, Luke Newberry (Sherlock: S2E1) is one of ours too!

So please cast your vote and help the #SaveInTheFlesh campaign in persuading the BBC to commission series 3 of In The Flesh!

Voting closes TODAY, 20th October, 11:59 EST and 21st October, 4:59 GMT

gohomeluhan:

As I’m walking through Target with my little sister, the kid somehow manages to convince me to take a trip down the doll aisle. I know the type - brands that preach diversity through displays of nine different variations of white and maybe a black girl if you’re lucky enough. What I instead found as soon as I turned into the aisle were these two boxes.

The girl on the left is Shola, an Afghani girl from Kabul with war-torn eyes. Her biography on the inside flap tells us that “her country has been at war since before she was born”, and all she has left of her family is her older sister. They’re part of a circus, the one source of light in their lives, and they read the Qur’an. She wears a hijab.

The girl on the right is Nahji, a ten-year-old Indian girl from Assam, where “young girls are forced to work and get married at a very early age”. Nahji is smart, admirable, extremely studious. She teaches her fellow girls to believe in themselves. In the left side of her nose, as tradition mandates, she has a piercing. On her right hand is a henna tattoo.

As a Pakistani girl growing up in post-9/11 America, this is so important to me. The closest thing we had to these back in my day were “customizable” American Girl dolls, who were very strictly white or black. My eyes are green, my hair was black, and my skin is brown, and I couldn’t find my reflection in any of those girls. Yet I settled, just like I settled for the terrorist jokes boys would throw at me, like I settled for the butchered pronunciations of names of mine and my friends’ countries. I settled for a white doll, who at least had my eyes if nothing else, and I named her Rabeea and loved her. But I still couldn’t completely connect to her.

My little sister, who had been the one to push me down the aisle in the first place, stopped to stare with me at the girls. And then the words, “Maybe they can be my American Girls,” slipped out of her mouth. This young girl, barely represented in today’s society, finally found a doll that looks like her, that wears the weird headscarf that her grandma does and still manages to look beautiful.

I turned the dolls’ boxes around and snapped a picture of the back of Nahji’s. There are more that I didn’t see in the store; a Belarusian, an Ethiopian, a Brazilian, a Laotian, a Native American, a Mexican. And more.

These are Hearts 4 Hearts dolls, and while they haven’t yet reached all parts of the world (I think they have yet to come out with an East Asian girl), they need all the support they can get so we can have a beautiful doll for every beautiful young girl, so we can give them what our generation never had.

Please don’t let this die. If you know a young girl, get her one. I know I’m buying Shola and Nahji for my little sister’s next birthday, because she needs a doll with beautiful brown skin like hers, a doll who wears a hijab like our older sister, a doll who wears real henna, not the blue shit white girls get at the beach.

The Hearts 4 Hearts girls are so important. Don’t overlook them. Don’t underestimate them. These can be the future if we let them.

You can read more about the dolls here: http://www.playmatestoys.com/brands/hearts-for-hearts-girls

ilikegirlsbro:

This fucked me up

yes-shit-watson:

stalkingyermom:

flawlessspecter:

flowercrownimpala:

i wonder if actors ever get their scripts and are like

well this is fucking stupid

image

is this a reaction or an example

both

autarky-caryatid:

I stayed up til two with a laggy stylus to make this incredibly inane and probably outdated joke