Da Bunny Remembers

IF you know what the name means, then you know the truth is out there.
livesandliesofwizards:

They say there is a hall in the Department of Mysteries where the incurable remain: the motionless corpses of basilisk victims, frozen in death, a testament to the snakes’ unstoppable venom; rooms and rooms of statues, princes who once dared to cross Celtic sorceresses; and beautiful women buried up to their knees, waists, and heads, their faces twisted in horror, preserving the moment they fell prey to some ancient curse. There are hacked and ill-reassembled men who had their swords enchanted against their own limbs. In wide pens are hens that once were fine ladies, and eternally slumbering dogs dreaming the dreams of country squires who foolishly trespassed on a witch’s land.
The children speak of this hall. Adults laugh, and say it does not exist. But if you could sneak in and wander from exhibit to exhibit, upending drawers and pressing your nose to the cases of this strange gallery, you might very well find odd mummies bent in pain; and the remains of people who seem similar to us, but perhaps not quite human, ice figures with swords drawn, sleeping away the centuries in mysterious iron boxes.
The business of the Department of Mysteries is, after all, mysteries. And so it is not simply a secret government collective. It has become, in its own way, something like a hidden museum. 
Only the very lucky — and the very unlucky — are granted admission.

livesandliesofwizards:

They say there is a hall in the Department of Mysteries where the incurable remain: the motionless corpses of basilisk victims, frozen in death, a testament to the snakes’ unstoppable venom; rooms and rooms of statues, princes who once dared to cross Celtic sorceresses; and beautiful women buried up to their knees, waists, and heads, their faces twisted in horror, preserving the moment they fell prey to some ancient curse. There are hacked and ill-reassembled men who had their swords enchanted against their own limbs. In wide pens are hens that once were fine ladies, and eternally slumbering dogs dreaming the dreams of country squires who foolishly trespassed on a witch’s land.

The children speak of this hall. Adults laugh, and say it does not exist. But if you could sneak in and wander from exhibit to exhibit, upending drawers and pressing your nose to the cases of this strange gallery, you might very well find odd mummies bent in pain; and the remains of people who seem similar to us, but perhaps not quite human, ice figures with swords drawn, sleeping away the centuries in mysterious iron boxes.

The business of the Department of Mysteries is, after all, mysteries. And so it is not simply a secret government collective. It has become, in its own way, something like a hidden museum. 

Only the very lucky — and the very unlucky — are granted admission.

(Source: shumilovaelena.35photo.ru, via wilwheaton)

awkwardsituationist:

these pictures of spem whales were taken by dr. peter g. allinson off the coast of dominica, who says he spends four days to a week trying to photograph the animals. divers only use snorkels when swimming with the whales, so as not to disturb them with air bubbles from scuba tanks.

"when they interact with us they approach us very closely, rolling over again and again, trying to get us to rub their abdomens and bodies," allinson says. “when you start getting close to them you feel nervous, intimidated and then as they interact with you feel intense pleasure. you realise they are intelligent.”

sperm whales have the largest brain of any animal, and dive to depths of three kilometres, making them them the deepest diving mammal. the clicking sound they make is also the loudest sound made by any animal.

(the second photo of a pod of sleeping sperm whales was take by magnus lundgren)

(via iheartskarsgard)

aregalpanda:

rainbowkissesxandunicornstickers:

I want to know how big the Once Upon a Time fandom is…

reblog if you are a Oncer, no matter if you are an Evil Regal, Dearie, Fairest, etc., or if you ship Swan Queen, Snowing, Captain Swan, or Rumbelle. I just want to see who’s out there who considers themselves to be a part of the OUAT fandom!

Reblog if…

image

(via bubberd)

bookmania:

"Love wins, love always wins." ― Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie

Never ever forget this. 

bookmania:

"Love wins, love always wins." Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie

Never ever forget this. 

bookmania:

from The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman

bookmania:

from The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman

peashooter85:

Chant de l’Oignon (song of the onion)

A march popular among Napoleon’s Imperial Guard.

J’aime l’oignon frît à l’huile,                        I love onion fried with oil,
J’aime l’oignon quand il est bon,    I love the onion when it’s good,
J’aime l’oignon frît à l’huile,                       I love onion fried with oil, 
J’aime l’oignon, j’aime l’oignon.    I love onion, I love onion.

(refrain)
Au pas camarade, au pas camarade,        Let’s charge comrades, let’s                                                                              charge comrades.

Au pas, au pas, au pas.                           Let’s charge, let’s charge, let’s charge
Au pas camarade, au pas camarade,       Let’s charge comrades, let’s charge                                                                        comrades.
Au pas, au pas, au pas.                           Let’s charge, let’s charge, let’s charge

Un seul oignon frît à l’huile,                      One onion fried with oil,
Un seul oignon nous change en lion,         One onion we change into a lion,
Un seul oignon frît à l’huile                       One onion fried with oil,
Un seul oignon nous change en lion.         One onion we change into a lion,

(refrain)

Mais pas d’oignons aux Autrichiens,        But no onions for the Austrians
Non pas d’oignons à tous ces chiens,       No onions for all these dogs
Mais pas d’oignons aux Autrichiens,        But no onions for the Austrians
Non pas d’oignons, non pas d’oignons.    No onions, no onions

(refrain)

Aimons l’oignon frît à l’huile,                    Love the onion fried with oil.
Aimons l’oignon car il est bon,                 Love the onion because it’s good,
Aimons l’oignon frît à l’huile,                    Love the onion fried with oil.
Aimons l’oignon, aimons l’oignon             Love the onion, love the onion.

(Source: peashooter85, via historyofeurope)

phototoartguy:

Eerie beauty of the squid: Underwater photographs which capture spectacular colours of sea creature usually thought of as ugly

Bobtail squids use thousands of cells in the outer layer of their skin to change colour

They transform to attract a mate or blend in with their surroundings

Underwater photographer Todd Bretl 

(Source: Daily Mail, via wilwheaton)