25 7 / 2014

Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he should be in some d a n g e r.

(via dollsome-does-tumblr)

25 7 / 2014

torigates:

waxjism:

real-faker:

virginmarx:

zebablah:

television history

i’ve been trying to explain this sketch to people for years

there is literally no way to explain this sketch it’s just a thing you have to see and even then I’m not sure why it’s so funny

I laughed and laughed and laughed because what

I’m really concerned there are people out there who don’t know this is a spoof of the OC

(Source: stupidfuckingquestions)

25 7 / 2014

accario:

oecologia:

“In March, due to a natural phenomenon, Siberia’s Lake Baikal is particularly amazing to photograph. The temperature, wind and sun cause the ice crust to crack and form beautiful turquoise blocks or ice hummocks on the lake’s surface.”
Photograph by Alex El Barto.

this is gorgeous

accario:

oecologia:

“In March, due to a natural phenomenon, Siberia’s Lake Baikal is particularly amazing to photograph. The temperature, wind and sun cause the ice crust to crack and form beautiful turquoise blocks or ice hummocks on the lake’s surface.”

Photograph by Alex El Barto.

this is gorgeous

(via mrv3000)

25 7 / 2014

Lee Pace + tropes and trademarks

(Source: leepacey, via aleriehightower)

25 7 / 2014

noobtheloser:

"Never speak of this."

(via mrv3000)

24 7 / 2014

nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.
I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.
The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.
"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"
Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.
Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.
I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.
But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.
"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.
"No, I’m good," I said.
"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.
Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—
“Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.
Reader, I bought them all.

nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.

I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.

The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.

"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"

Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.

Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.

I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.

But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.

"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.

"No, I’m good," I said.

"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.

Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—

Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.

Reader, I bought them all.

(via mrv3000)

24 7 / 2014

imcastortroy:

Favorite Chris² (Hemsworth & Evans) Moments

(Source: tobyregboe, via kasuchi)

24 7 / 2014

princess-peachie:

sebadasstian-stan:

[x]

MAINE COON BABY PARADE

(via theashleyclements)

24 7 / 2014

flowergirlrobichiko:

thecatsmustbecrazy:

special delivery

BRING ME SCHRÖDINGER’S HEAD

flowergirlrobichiko:

thecatsmustbecrazy:

special delivery

BRING ME SCHRÖDINGER’S HEAD

(via tahla-xiv)

24 7 / 2014

beanarie:

brooklyn nine nine has the best reactions ever: exhibit A

(via cacchieressa)

24 7 / 2014

24 7 / 2014

(Source: elijahwood, via lizznotliz)

24 7 / 2014

tinobaldouchey:

krolmeistersisters:

tinobaldouchey:

thecrazyhouse:

krolmeistersisters:

krolmeistersisters:

Oh btw we’ve been doing this all night. Used the recipe from SHA and everything. Don’t know how it tastes yet but we’ll let ya’ll know!

Guys….we’re each eating a piece of this cake and…we get it. We get why this was Frances’s favorite cake. THIS IS THE BEST CAKE IN THE WORLD!!! Like…the edges got really brown and we thought they’d taste burn-y but they are like carmelized sugar goodness. Guys…try the recipe. You won’t regret it. Unless you’re diabetic…then maybe don’t.

OMG ITS REAL

Can someone add the recipe to this post? I wanna make the cake but don’t wanna go find the recipe on my own (I’m lazy like that)

Already did but I’ll post it again for you

  • 1 cup butter
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 2/3 cup milk
  • 4 cups flour
  • 1 tbsp baking powder
  • 2 1/3 cups sugar
  • 3 tsp vanilla flavouring

mix in a large mixing bowl then pour into a greased 9” round pan. Bake at 350F for an hour and 15 minutes, then another 15 minutes at 325F

We used buttercream frosting and then sugar sheets for the tulip!

Enjoy

Thanks :)) can’t wait to make it

(via mrv3000)

24 7 / 2014

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

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

(via scriberated)

24 7 / 2014