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November 10 2013

i często - mając lat dwadzieścia - myśleliśmy, że nie ma dla nas życia, że jesteśmy obcy i niepotrzebni
— Hłasko

November 01 2013



I don’t know how I missed John’s worried, guilty and pained expression in this scene when he realises that he’s made a huge mistake writing about Sherlock’s lack of general knowledge in his blog, because it’s resulted in Sherlock being the butt of leg pulling even more than usual and it physically hurts. 

…and when the office bursts into derisive and snide grins John does his best to silence them by shaking his head at them, and you can actually SEE him beating himself up inwardly about it, because this genial, mind-blowingly intelligent detective is far more sensitive than anyone could possibly imagine and that it has been years of taunts and cruelties like these that have turned this perfect face into a wall of impeccable silence and emotionlessness, while John has destroyed all that and more by a few inadvertently placed words on a blog he believed nobody read. In the short time that they’ve known one another, John has come to understand the vulnerability hiding behind the facade - one that Sherlock must have hoped John would not reveal to others; however, he feels as if he’s failed him. He’s allowed the world to enter their little domestic settlement close enough to poke fun at Sherlock, for no fault of his own, beyond that John couldn’t keep his own mouth [fingers] from blabbing. His jaw clenches and head shakes as he feels Sherlock’s pain and confusion. He hurts because despite being the brave soldier that he is, the one person who needs his strength is also the one who he so thoughtlessly let down. He hurts because Sherlock hurts. And what hurts far more is the fact that he is the reason why Sherlock hurts.

Reposted fromMoonTide MoonTide viasherlock sherlock
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Reposted byLegendaryy Legendaryy
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'can you stop talking for 30 seconds?'

Reposted fromstephiknee stephiknee viasherlock sherlock

October 04 2013

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Apple pie with roses (x)


Reposted fromPoooly Poooly viawonderlustqueen wonderlustqueen
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Geiranger Fjord, Norway
Reposted fromretaliate retaliate viawerki1 werki1

September 26 2013

Снегурочка (The Snow Maiden), Soviet Union, 1952
Reposted fromRussia Russia viawonderlustqueen wonderlustqueen
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no worries friend


seal rotate

no worries when rotate

Reposted fromhodor hodor viawonderlustqueen wonderlustqueen

my problem isn’t that my favorite fictional characters aren’t real, it’s that i’m not fictional

Why is this so fucking accurate

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watch out guys, we got a badass over here
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I told her to go find a toy and she brought me a leaf. 

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My cousin got hit by a truck.

He’s fine nothing broken but he has the sickest bruise ever!! Like holy shit you can see the outline of his muscles and bones on his chest?

This thing is awesome.
I told him he should get it tatted to always remember that he survived getting hit by a truck lol

ngl that is a pretty metal bruise

Reposted fromzalibar zalibar viawonderlustqueen wonderlustqueen
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“My mother boils seawater. It sits all afternoon simmering on the stovetop, almost two gallons in a big soup pot. The windows steam up and the house smells like a storm. In the evening, a crust of salt is all that’s left at the bottom of the pot. My mother scrapes it out with a spoon. We each lick a fingertip and dip them in the salt and it’s softer than you’d think, less like sand and more like snow. We lay our fingertips on our tongues, right in the middle. It tastes like salt but like something else, too—wide, and dark. It tastes like drowning, or like falling asleep on the shore and only waking up when the tide has come up to your feet and you wonder if you’d gone on sleeping, would you have sunk?”

The Alchemy: Salt from Water

Reposted fromJerry520 Jerry520 viawonderlustqueen wonderlustqueen
Nie należy potępiać człowieka, ponieważ nigdy nie wiadomo, co się dzieje w jego duszy
— Lew Tołstoj

September 23 2013

Taka cisza - państwo wiedzą - nie jest całkowitym brakiem dźwięku, brzmi jak senny oddech Ziemi. Ktoś chciał nam ją ofiarować, tak na zawsze, żeby las nie istniał tylko w lesie, ale również w nas, głęboko w naszych kościach, i żebyśmy nieśli go ze sobą, dokądkolwiek przyjdzie nam wędrować.
— Marek Stokowski, Stroiciel lasu
Reposted fromstylte stylte viamuviell muviell

September 21 2013

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Reposted fromandrius andrius viawonderlustqueen wonderlustqueen

September 16 2013

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apparently i’m not enthusiastic enough about satan for google 

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Stockholm streets on 3 September 1967, the day when Sweden switched from driving on the left to the right
Reposted fromdipakkk dipakkk viawonderlustqueen wonderlustqueen
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