you're gonna catch a cold don't come back for me don't come back for me at all
firstmostdangerous reblogged
eddhardwicke-deactivated2013033
“He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson. He is the organizer of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city. He is a genius, a philosopher, an abstract thinker. He has a brain of the first order. He sits motionless, like a spider in the centre of its web, but that web has a thousand radiations, and he knows well every quiver of each of them.” — The Final Problem
Source: pieceofgold
Here. Is. a. playlist. I am less than a heart The rest of me mere appendix Death is a door The novel’s central mystery I left my thoughts in the car tied some paper towels to my feet and walked home
That is why I have chosen my own particular profession, or rather created it, for I am the only one in the world.
Sherlock Holmes
May you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you - haunt me, then.
Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
firstmostdangerous reblogged
- The Doors - Light My Fire
It was like I'd been shot or something, all of a sudden my breathing completely stopped. Like, if I inhaled anymore, all my guts would come spilling right out of my mouth[...] I was walking back to the office... to my replacement when the Chief Officer, Matsumoto, came out with a mop. We headed up the escalator to the platform. There we found Toyoda, Takahashi, and Hishinuma with a bundle of wet newspapers on the platform. They’re stuffing it all by hand into plastic bags, but there’s liquid coming from them and spilling onto the platform. There was a very strong smell. Then Takahashi walked over to a trash can at the end of the platform, probably to fetch some more newspaper to wipe up where it was still wet. Suddenly he sinks down in front of the bin and keels over. Takahashi’s face looked awful. He couldn’t talk. We laid him on his side, loosened his tie … he looked in really bad shape.
-abridged victim recount, murakami, Underground: The Tokyo Gas Attack and the Japanese Psyche
moriarty walking in to the swimming pool a second time like, OH GOOD, you’re STILL here
SORRY BOYS, I’M SOOO CHANGEABLE!
firstmostdangerous reblogged
Dying
is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
Sylvia Plath, Lady Lazarus. (via finalitie)
firstmostdangerous reblogged
Whether folding flat, square tessellations or rounded forms that billow from a central point, origami artist Goran Konjevod (previously) focuses on the tension inherent in a single sheet of material. His sculptures draw on his background in mathematics and computer science and configure precise geometries, fanned pleats, and small woven pieces that appear to be individual strips threaded together rather than a series of carefully aligned creases. Each form is a meticulous blend of texture, pattern, and dimension that’s translated into elegant, abstract constructions through repetitive folds.
Source: thisiscolossal.com
jim moriarty the most tortured soul i’ve ever known
robert lang - elliptic infinity
Everything we call real is made of things that cannot be regarded as real.
-Niels Bohr
firstmostdangerous reblogged
BBC’s Sherlock — The Hounds of Baskerville {Sentence Starters}
- “You envy me?“
- “Oh. Not good?“
- “It’s not important.“
- “It’s not in the rules!“
- “I don’t have ‘friends’!“
- “He’s in here with me.“
- “I can’t, he’ll hear me…“
- “Well, that was tedious.”
- “Any long-term effects?“
- “You’re just showing off.“
- “Go after her and apologise.“
- “Tell me what you’re seeing!“
- “I don’t know, but I can hear it.“
- “Well, then the rules are wrong!“
- “Look at me. I’m afraid…. Afraid.”
- “Alright, keep talking. I’ll find you.“
- “It was the only possible solution!“
- “None of the cabs would take me.“
- “What am I saying? This is brilliant.“
- “You are amazing, you are fantastic!“
- “Yes, alright, don’t have to overdo it.“
- “How on earth did you notice all that?“
- “Please, please, please can you help?“
- “Ah, no. We are never playing that, again.“
- “Think I might have taken care of that, already.“
- “Of course. I am a show-off, that’s what we do.“
- “I meant it. I don’t have friends… I’ve just got one.“
- “Why would you listen to me? I’m just your friend.”
- “Oh, that was this morning. When’s the next one?“
- “Totally scientific. Laboratory conditions. Quite literally.“
- “Your mind; it’s so placid, straight-forward, barely used.“
- “Murder weapon and the scene of the crime, all at once!“
- “I’ve got a theory, but I need to get back into ______ to test it.”
- “But, you see, body’s betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions.“
- “Because it’s not actually possible for the victim to have done it, that’s why!”
- “I’ve always been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself from feelings.”
- “My mind’s like an engine, racing out of control; a rocket tearing itself to pieces, trapped on the launchpad.”
firstmostdangerous reblogged
perdefinitio:
Dreadfully, fittingly, Severin can’t help but look flabbergasted. Positively stupid. What the fuck’s he ever done to deserve this headache of a person in his life? Better not to think on that too hard. He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again. Moriarty may well be one of all but three people on this planet to make Severin think before he speaks – factor in the risk of reprimands before he gets his foot stuck in his mouth. It delays his response for a few seconds, perhaps removes some of the intended bite; but can’t, within those few seconds, change his contrarian character. "I’m not a fucking waiter.“
Internal safety protocols demand that if you ignore one order, you better follow another in exchange. So he sits; albeit reluctantly, stiffly, on the edge of the seat across from him. With a cautious frown etched onto his features, he tries again: "What do you want from me?”
______________
☛ ⊰ ℳ. ⊱
————————
There’s a hazardable type of art in searching through large stations of the dead, keeping corpses seven days from decay by preservatives without evisceration by the vas ustrinum. A pyre. But eventually the bulk of men should sink into so few grams of bones and a slender mass would remain upon the grill in a beating flame. How no historical solution to the itch that must be scratched could be found for men like Severin, and bones like Severin’s is unsatisfactory---how in the pit so hot it could burn off Pyrrhus’s lucky toe he would not be able to make out Severin’s brain if he looked. Where is it?
And where is it now?
‘ Work review. ‘ They’ve been due to sit like this, before he sends Severin to Asia. Sweaty.
Moriarty hasn’t sounded the least bit insolent. As if that weren’t enough, something rightfully irks him. The view behind Severin’s shoulders and misplaced head: The scone he was rather interested in.
Large eyes, watching him, he sighs. ‘ I ask for so little. ‘
@perdefinitio
firstmostdangerous reblogged
The Doors - Soul Kitchen
Source: jimthelizardking