Photoset

(Source: rory-williams, via miss-tate)

Photo
woodendreams:

Scotland (by Philippe Sainte-Laudy)
Photoset

(Source: celaborn, via steampunkwyn)

Quote
"i know, deep down inside, that you’ll end up breaking my heart and walking away
and all I’ll do , is thank you for your time ."

— midnight realization ( dukh )

(Source: dukh, via steampunkwyn)

Photoset

madamecuratrix:

darksilenceinsuburbia:

Jimmy Nelson

Before They Pass Away

Website

The most gorgeous and wonderful photoset that’s come across my dash in a while.

Wow.

(via steampunkwyn)

Text

straight-as-a-curly-fry:

komlin:

livingonmusicals:

komlin:

livingonmusicals:

komlin:

livingonmusicals:

ok y’all 

how do i ask a boy out 

roses are red
violets are blue
guess what, my bed
has room for two

OH MY GOD NO

twinkle twinkle little star
we can do it in a car

STOP IT

row, row, row your boat
gently down the stream
merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
i can make you scream

I feel like the last one is verging dangerously into serial killer territory

(Source: bearsnbritts, via breatheinandlive)

Photoset

downtondownstairs:

30 Days of Downton Abbey

Day 6: 3rd favourite episode

❤︎ 4.02

Photoset
Photo
strigays:

strigays:

i apparently go to bird school which is for birds

gODDAMNIT this post always getS TINY FUCKING BURSTS OF notes when will the carnage stop

strigays:

strigays:

i apparently go to bird school
which is for birds

gODDAMNIT this post always getS TINY FUCKING BURSTS OF notes when will the carnage stop

(Source: purrinces, via whofreak)

Tags: accurate
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the-girl-from-scotland said: "How long has it been since you last slept?" "How long have you been there?" "Can we not fight tonight?" "Want to hear a secret?" "Is that blood behind your ear?" for Ben and Bea about one time that Don pedro's fleet came from the war to have a short break, please? Thanks. Ps.: maybe she could give him a kiss to make him come back to the Benedick that she knows? and in the end he turn really emboldened? -XX

thenoblelark:

Spoils of War 

"How long has it been since you last slept?" 

Benedick starts from what he thought was a simple nap. “Wha—where are we now?” 

"Docked," Claudio chuckles at his friend, exhausted as he looks with his dark eye corners. "We’re home, at least for now." 

"Home," Benedick nods tiredly. What a hollow promise. "Yes, you go to your dear Hero, the Prince will go back to a flock of women-"

"And you will go back to Beatrice," Claudio nudges. 

"What Beatrice do I have to go back to?" Benedick scoffs as he rises, stretching out the sudden tingle in all his muscles. All he wants to do is find a quiet place to go back to slee—er, napping. 

The Signor of Padua drags himself down the plank and towards the closest place he knows as sanctuary: Signor Leonato’s villa, on the cliff above the beaches. That doesn’t mean he wants to see Beatrice, though, she simply happens to be the Signor’s niece. Benedick sighs; perhaps he’ll have his nap in the beach cabana instead. 

He will have to see Beatrice eventually, he knows. But he will do his best to avoid it, of course. Beatrice: the fiery haired girl with a command of wit in which he hates to admit she matches (if not surpasses).

"How long has it been since you last slept?" 

Ben jumps from his state of light sleep yet again. To his horror, it’s Beatrice who has woken him this time. He fumbles to straighten his uniform, standing out of reflexive honor. “How long have you been there?”

"Not as long as you surely fear," Beatrice raises a brow at him, although not snidely. Her smile is just short of taunting. "You must be exhausted."

"It’s been a while," Benedick concedes as he sighs into at-ease. "How are you, Miss Beatrice?"

"Fine as ever," the ginger lady shrugs and enters the cabana without hesitation. Such is unseemly for a lady but she cares not. "You certainly look exhausted."  

"Can we not fight tonight?" Benedick surprises himself by letting out with a puff of air. He has sighed enough already, and he is too spent for their merry war. 

Beatrice is surprised, and shows such too. Surely he sees it and sits himself down again. Beatrice joins him atop the lawn chair he has fashioned into a bed. ”Want to hear a secret?” 

"What is it, Beatrice?" Benedick drawls, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"I don’t want to fight either," Beatrice concedes, looking to their shoes in the sand. Benedick’s uniform shoes must not be comfortable. Her eyes drift to the rest of his uniform before she recognizes his unbuttoned collar (and she diverts her eyes, flushed with guilt). 

"Truly?" Benedick blinks. Is he hallucinating or is Beatrice…glowing?

"I enjoy our merry war," Beatrice smiles (impishly?). "But there is no fun in fencing with a wounded opponent, and I would not want to tire you further. A soldier will need his strength." 

"That I will," Benedick begins leaning, blaming everything on his fatigue. That’s it—that’s why all he can think about is how soft her hair will be as a pillow, or how her silky skin will soothe his untended scruff. 

Beatrice takes his leaning in as a sign and swoops in herself, meeting his limp lips with hers. They are thin, but strong, and warm, and oh, so sweet. When she pulls back she looks away, instantly avoiding his surprise (unbeknownst to her there is no surprise, only adoration). “I pray you take care to return to m—us…Benedick.” 

"I would never dream of otherwise," he nearly whispers, now fully leaned against her. 

"Is that blood behind your ear?" 

"I love you, too." 

Beatrice, flushed at his intimate proximity, “I…just sleep, Benedick.” 

He already is.