07 8 / 2014

rebelholmes:

pleatedjeans:

24 Pictures That Prove Pit Bulls Are Nothing but Big Softies

Such dangerous beasts…

Oh gosh I can’t even with the cuteness!
I love pitbulls :)

(via brotherhood-of-feels)

07 8 / 2014

bakerstreetsdoctor:

fefaklainer:

luhleti:

overprotective parents raise the best liars.

but seriously, i mean i don´t even do bad things and i have to lie a lot

image

I thought this was too funny :D

(Source: rollingstomes, via brotherhood-of-feels)

07 8 / 2014

algrenion:

me and my brother spent about twenty minutes in B&Q today taking pictures of all the weird, pretentious names for colours in the paint aisle

my personal favourite was soft pelican

Whenever I go by the paint swatches in any store I always end up taking a whole bunch.
Even though I have absolutely no need for them.

(via brotherhood-of-feels)

07 8 / 2014

humansofnewyork:

“They are taking control of the water supply. They are breaking dams, and flooding crops, and destroying the food supply of an entire country. They are forcing hundreds of thousands from their homes. It seems that there is a hand behind all of this. They are very calculating. They are making their moves very carefully to destroy the human soul. They want to rob an entire people of food and water and homes, as if to wipe them from the pages of history. And when they take the homes from these people, the children have no place to play. The children have no place to be young. No physical space, and no emotional space. They have no place to be a child, so their only frame of reference is war and fighting. And when that’s all they know, how can they grow up to be doctors and teachers? All they can possibly know is the desire for revenge and hatred for their enemies. I wish people would understand that Iraq is filled with intelligent, civilized people. This was the cradle of civilization in the Ancient World. Even the Garden of Eden was here. These aren’t dust covered, nameless refugees being forced from their homes. The refugee camps are filled with architects, and musicians, and teachers.”

humansofnewyork:

“They are taking control of the water supply. They are breaking dams, and flooding crops, and destroying the food supply of an entire country. They are forcing hundreds of thousands from their homes. It seems that there is a hand behind all of this. They are very calculating. They are making their moves very carefully to destroy the human soul. They want to rob an entire people of food and water and homes, as if to wipe them from the pages of history. And when they take the homes from these people, the children have no place to play. The children have no place to be young. No physical space, and no emotional space. They have no place to be a child, so their only frame of reference is war and fighting. And when that’s all they know, how can they grow up to be doctors and teachers? All they can possibly know is the desire for revenge and hatred for their enemies. I wish people would understand that Iraq is filled with intelligent, civilized people. This was the cradle of civilization in the Ancient World. Even the Garden of Eden was here. These aren’t dust covered, nameless refugees being forced from their homes. The refugee camps are filled with architects, and musicians, and teachers.”

05 6 / 2014

05 6 / 2014

05 6 / 2014


He’s my friend.

He’s my friend.

(Source: alishenciya, via loveforever046)

05 6 / 2014

princetabris:

i cant believe people consciously choose to follow me and decide to themselves “Yeah I want to see more of whatever this nerd’s doing”

(via loveforever046)

05 6 / 2014

bespectacledtitan:

marylikesroses:

manyfandomsandcounting:

image

SO I DISCOVERED THESE SCARVES

image

AND THEY MAKE IT LOOK LIKE

imageYOU HAVE

image

FREAKING

imageWINGS

WHERE CAN I GET THESE

You can buy them from this store on Etsy!

(Source: thedoctordeducesdemons, via write-me-long-letters-love)

05 6 / 2014

(Source: 500px.com, via mutualize)

05 6 / 2014

Anonymous said: REMOVE POLAND

asd123123sadzkmxkclekrmds:

04 6 / 2014

04 6 / 2014

04 6 / 2014

helenish:

saucefactory:

#ACTUAL BESEECHING EYES FROM AN ACTUAL MEDIEVAL COURTSHIP

AND WHEN THEY GET MARRIED THERE WILL BE A CROWN OF FLOWERS AND THEY WILL PLEDGE THEIR TROTH TO ONE ANOTHER UNDER A WILLOW TREE

THEY CALLED HIM ‘THE WOLF’ ON THE BATTLEFIELD; Stiles had never seen him bend knee, even in the training ring, but he was surprisingly slight out of his armor, bending to press his lips to the heavy signet ring on Stiles’ hand.

"It is a long ride you have had," Stiles heard himself say, distantly.

"Yes, my lord," Derek said, still holding Stiles’ hand in his palm, thumb closed softly over Stiles’ knuckles, his breath warm on Stiles’ fingers. There was a hot flush starting up the back of Stiles’ neck, courtiers watching them, amused, waiting for the King’s son to refuse another marriage offer.

The Hale fiefdom was strategically useful, but small, little more than a vast forest of scrub pines crawling up a rocky mountainside, the land too steep and rocky to farm. Argent had been quietly suggesting for years that it was time to fold the Hale land into his fiefdom, a strong border for the long, rolling green pastureland, especially now that the Hale family found themselves without—well, he’d said, smiling, at the last council meeting, if Kate’s betrothal to Derek hadn’t been broken, they wouldn’t be having this discussion, he said. Derek’s face, in the gallery, had been expressionless; he had no speaking rights in the council. 

There was a low snicker rolling along the edge of the room, Derek had been kneeling on the cold stone of the throne room for over long. Stiles had refused princes in their own right, turned down the queen of the neighboring kingdom who could have extended their land rights to the western ocean. Derek had little; one horse, one battered, well-kept set of armor. He slept in the barracks, only had a squire because he was the only one who’d agreed to take on the Lahey whelp when his father died. 

Derek’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t move, waiting.

"You—" Stiles swallowed. "You have a token for me?" 

Derek’s head jerked up, shocked pale eyes in a shadowed face. “I—what?” he said.

"I’ll compete in the tourney this afternoon," Stiles said. "It’s traditional to offer a token—"

Derek dropped his hand. “I had not believed you to be cruel,” he muttered, so quietly that no one else might hear. “If my offer so offends you then—”

"No matter," Stiles said. He was wearing a red undertunic, thin and old, and the hem gave easily under his fingers. He tied it around Derek’s arm, high up, a bright slash of color against black, Derek still under his hands. "There," he said. "For luck."

"I’ll, um, win," Derek said. The snickers had turned into a roaring mumbling chatter, but Derek was staring up at Stiles’ face as though he couldn’t look away.

"You always win," Stiles reminded him, and Derek’s tired face cracked into a ghost of a grin.

"For you," he said. "My victory today will belong to you."

(Source: mademoisellelaure, via ashesandhalefire)