6 hours ago

Classsssss only a week until finals. Hurry the hell up I want my freedom.
33353 Reblog

21 hours ago



A quick look at British and American spelling

American english is like real english but badly spelled…
62 Reblog

21 hours ago


"On either side Elrendar lie, 
The forests of Eversong, towering high, 
The trees grow tall and meet the sky, 
And thro’ the woods the road runs by,
To many-tower’d Quel’Thalas;
And up and down the people go, 
Gazing where the flowers blow, 
Round the city there below,
The Kingdom of Quel’Thalas. 

Magic ripens, gold leaves quiver, 
Constant autumn, ne’er a shiver, 
Thro’ the forest that runs forever, 
To the mystic Elrendar river, 
Flowing west through Quel’Thalas. 
Golden walls, and golden towers, 
Overlook the trees and flowers, 
And all of Eversong Forest embowers 
The Lady of Quel’Thalas. 

By the margin, shoreline veil’d, 
Slide the Alliance barges trail’d, 
By slow horses; and unhail’d, 
And the elven vessels, silken sail’d, 
Flitteth down to Lordaeron. 
But who hath seen her wave her hand? 
Or at the city ramparts, seen her stand? 
Or is she known in every land, 
The Lady of Quel’Thalas? 
Only rangers, training early 
In among the range so surly, 
Hear a song that echoes clearly, 
From the winding spires, pearly, 
Down from tower’d Quel’Thalas. 
And by the moon, the rangers weary, 
Twanging bows and their arrows, airy, 
Listening, whispers Tis the spectre, the fairy. 
The Lady of Quel’Thalas.
There she stands by night and day 
In the forest with colours gay. 
She has heard a whisper say, 
A curse is on her if she stay 
To look down to Quel’Thalas. 
She knows not what the curse may be, 
And so she patrols steadily, 
And little other care hath she, 
The Lady of Quel’Thalas.. 

And moving thro’ the gates clear 
That that stand proud all the year, 
Shadows of the world appear. 
There she sees the highway near 
Winding down to Lordaeron:
There the Orcs have fled, 
And there the people lay in bed, 
Laden with the sickness of the dead, 
Consuming all Lordaeron. 

Sometimes a troop of paladins gold, 
Patrol the roads with hearts bold, 
Sometimes the mages, all old, 
Or the cultists, hearts cold, 
Go by to tower’d Lordaeron;
But this is not her kingdom or home, 
These people are not her own: 
So she turns her gaze back to the stone
Of the Kingdom of Quel’Thalas. 

But in Lordaeron there is no delight 
No more basking in the magic sights, 
For often thro’ the silent nights 
Come the burning, burning lights 
And screams, out from Lordaeron: 
With the moon  high overhead, 
And the coif on her head; 
"I am weary of war," said 
The Lady of Quel’thalas..
“A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, 
The knight rode between the Eversong sheaves, 
His chilling frost left numbing through the leaves, 
And left bane upon the cursed greaves, 
Of the damnable Knight Arthas.
A fearsome horror in which all undead kneeled, 
Armies of risen behind his horse and shield, 
That plagued the golden Eversong fields, 
Inside the lovely Quel’Thalas.
The eyes of blue, glowing free, 
Odious signs of a soul once of thee, 
Standing out against the Eversong trees, 
The bells of Quel’Thalas rang merridly, 
As the scourge rode down through Eversong. 
All in the blues and black on death tinged weather, 
 The golden forests cursed with those rejected by nether, 
The knight’s hatred burned, though his heart was cold, 
He sought to take a Windrunner that which he would hold, 

His broad pale brow above those eyes that glowed, 
On frozen hooves his war-horse trode; 
From underneath his helmet flow’d 
His snow white locks as on he rode, 
As  he moved down through Eversong. 
As often thro’ the twin moon night, 
Below the starry clusters bright, 
The elves fought back with, trailing light, 
Moves over still Quel’Thalas. 
From the bank and from the river, 
He froze over the waters, creating crystal mirrors,“Come down from those gates” Sang out, Knight Arthas. 
The archer looked down at the man and all of 
his frosted tomb, 
The creatures plagued the forest of bloom, 
If only she knew that her family and people 
were soon to suffer and fall under doom, 
She looked down from Quel’Thalas. 
Out from her bow flew an arrow so high, 
She aimed with great stillness, though her heart was nigh, 
For this hour was her last and she would see her sisters no more, 
To become the puppet of the knight, a new purpose she bore 
"The curse is come upon me," cried 
The Lady of Quel’Thalas. 
And so despite of all her training, 
The pale-yellow woods were waning, 
The stream of dead and all life fading, 
Heavily the low sky raining 
The tears of a damned lot; 
Down she came, her ending wrote, 
With runic blade plung’d to her throat, 
And with shuddering screams she rose, 
The Banshee of Quel’Thalas. 

And down the Scar’s vast expanse – 
Like some bold seer now entranced, 
Seeing all her own mischance – 
With a glassy countenance 
Did she look to Quel’Thalas. 
And at the closing of the day 
She loosed the scream, entered the fray; 
The tide of death bore her far away, 
To the kingdom of Lordaeron. 

Her form, ragged and pallid white 
with hair loosely thrown left and right – 
No longer graced by Eversong’s  light – 
She wailed long into the night 
a dirge for Quel’Thalas: 
And as her voice wound  along 
The hills and fields of Tirisfal, 
The dead would pause, enthralled by song, 
And pine for lands they lost. 

And so a carol, mournful, holy, 
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, 
Till her mind was freed slowly, 
And her eyes, now darken’d wholly, 
gazed upon Lordaeron; 
For ere she called upon the tide 
of undead she commanded, at her side, 
Singing in her song she rallied, 
The Banshee of Quel’Thalas 

Under tower and balcony, 
By garden-wall and gallery, 
A gleaming shape she floated by, 
A corpse between the houses high, 
To reclaim old Lordaeron. 
Upon her orders, as soldiers we came, 
to our home, from the Scourge to claim, 
And Forsaken, she called out our name, 
our Dark Lady of Lordaeron. 

So we fought, spell and spear, 
the Scourge’s might fell, that much is clear, 
with freed minds did we cheer; 
And we stood proud, we knew not fear, 
The Forsaken of Lordaeron 
We quickly bowed, gave her space; 
our debt eternal as our race; 
And we kneeled before Her Grace, 
The Banshee Queen, Sylvanas.”
Variation of the “Lady of Shalott”, by Sibelius, Olynnia, Nenive and Seleste.
243137 Reblog

21 hours ago

110911 Reblog

21 hours ago


I hear my mom shrieking downstairs, shouting up to me about “THE CATS! THE CATS!”

I run downstairs, thinking someone has died or something and see THIS:





(via cucumbericee)

627 Reblog

21 hours ago

103481 Reblog

21 hours ago



The famous depiction of galloping horses by using coconut shells came about from the purely practical reason that the production simply couldn’t afford real horses.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)
via IMDb

#and also they would have to go through weeks of horse riding training#and they just couldnt be arsed with it#that is another reason palin said so himslef
22747 Reblog

21 hours ago

136394 Reblog

21 hours ago


Oh my god
15787 Reblog

23 hours ago



I can only assume that what photographer Porsupah Ree captured here are binkying bunnies. A binky is a playful and happy expression made by a rabbit in which it jumps in the air and twists its body around in a convulsive fashion.


(Source:, via enelplaneta2000)