Step 1, discredit the witnesses.
Step 2, introduce a new suspect.
Step 3, we bury the evidence.
We throw so much information at the jury that they walk into the deliberation room with one overwhelming feeling…doubt. That’s how you get away with murder.
John Mulaney | The Salt & Pepper Diner
THE BEST JOKE IN EXISTENCE
GOD I JUST TOLD SOMEONE ABOUT THIS STORY
This is one of the best pieces of comedy that I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing. I love this. I have been looking for this online for awhile.
Princeless – Book One: Save Yourself (2012)
Story: Jeremy Whitley , art: M. Goodwin
Go get Princeless. This is your last chance before I go over to your house and destroy all your X-books
Keep a copy of Princeless close by at all times just in case. X books are everywhere.
Seriously y’all. Go find Princeless.
This post…has a lot of notes!
This is the spread that had me sold for life to the Princeless fandom. If you can read this and not laugh . . Well, I’m pretty sure you must not be human or something.
Also, great detector for skrulls. All humans laugh at Princeless!
After all these years …
We go forward.
This is too deep to comprehend.
“People usually assume that I’m daddy’s helpless little girl, but I can handle myself.”
i really miss sokka
What is love?
Her definition was by far my favorite
You follow me on tumblr but will you follow me into war
shut the fuck up steve
also that whole tale of aragorn and arwen thing where he saw her in the woods at twenty and fell instantly in love and it’s very beren and luthien? lies.
aragorn decided he was going to marry arwen when he was like, six.
and everyone thought it was just the cutest thing, baby estel with his little crush on the great immortal evenstar, and everyone would tease him about it relentlessly and he would get so mad, and pout, because how dare they doubt his word.
(arwen spent a lot of time biting back smiles and nodding very seriously when aragorn brings this up with her. no, estel, I do not know why they are laughing perhaps they have remembered a particularly funny joke.)
and then aragorn grows into this gangly teen and oh my god can you imagine being a pimply greasy teenager around fucking elves it’s a wonder he has any self-image left. His voice breaks every other word and the laundresses are beginning to wonder if something is wrong with the sheets because estel keeps washing them himself and aragorn wants to die, god, arwen is never going to marry him if he stays all elbows and skinny knees and he can’t even look her in the eye anymore without blushing, eye contact is probably something to look for in a husband—
(arwen, who never had to go through puberty because elves don’t do anything so undignified, tries to comfort him by saying she likes his blemishes. aragorn gives her a look of such utter, miserable despair that she starts laughing.)
(this is a mistake. he spends the next three weeks nursing his wounded ego and refusing to see her.)
estel is twenty when he asks for her hand. he is lean, slender and fair as a new tree, and so arwen does not feel guilt in kissing his cheek and gently refusing. he is still green, he will weather greater storms than this—and he takes it as he should, clasping her hand and swearing to ever be her loyal friend.
they write to each other—when she is in lorien, when he wanders with the rangers of the north, fights alongside gondor, travels to distant lands. it is an inconstant tie—he is rarely afforded time enough to put pen to paper; she is reserved so as not to encourage what may not be. (she signs her letters always, your friend. She likes him too well to be cruel in this.)
the years pass. his weariness and strife creeps onto the page, and she sends him tokens to fend off the darkness—leaves from lothlorien, the ribbon from her hair, snippets of poems. it is not enough it is never enough I am sorry, she writes.
his reply is gentle: you are enough. do not stop writing.
(she carries that letter tucked inside her sleeve for a long while, like a talisman—though against what evil, she does not know.)
she is in the house of her grandmother when a familiar voice calls out to her: my lady luthien!
this is when arwen looks up, sees aragorn—broad of chest and rugged, still wearing his battered mail, with one hand balanced lazily on the pommel of his sword. All the trees of caras galadhon are gold but he is shadow and silver, kingliness resting lightly on his shoulders—
and arwen thinks, oh fuck
i think i want to see a cartoon about these guys
Omg.. The way the cat slows down to allow the bun to catch up, probably because it knows how much the bun likes to stop and look at stuff
has anyone noticed THAT THE BUNNY IS TRYING TO WALK LIKE THE CAT.
"Walking is so tedious, how do you do it?"
"Leaping about is undignified and exhausting. It’s beneath me."
"Unless you’re chasing the red dot."
"I KEEP MY HOME LIFE AND PROFESSIONAL LIFE SEPARATE."
This made my day