Hi I'm Carina, i live in Norway and love Assassin's creed, Supernatural, nature pictures, animals, movies, games and a lot of other things. Expect a little of everything here, and most will be reblogged things :3
Reblogged from algrenion
Armor Tutorials and References
Reblogged from youwatchusrunraggedyman
AsylumWaiting Room of the Big Three.
It’s funny, because it looks like the Sherlock fandom are sane here.
Sherlock bustled about the kitchen, throwing a cupboard door open and pushing aside a box of nicotine patches to retrieve two mismatched mugs. A kettle whistled plaintively in the background, like it had been trying to draw attention to itself for a while now. Setting the mugs aside, Sherlock absently pulled the kettle off the stove, poured tea into the two mugs, and carried them into the living room.
Doctor Who was sprawled over the same chair it had collapsed into last night, when it had appeared at the door muttering inanely about lost regenerations and knackered navigations systems. It made a whining noise as Sherlock tucked the shock blanket it had thrown off in the night back around its shoulders.
Supernatural was in similar straits, curled up on the floor with a throw pillow and a tattered trench coat around its shoulders and alternating between sobbing and muttering about domesticity potential.
A thudding on the stairs indicated the ruckus had finally awoke Merlin, who poked its head into the room, hair sticking up at all angels as it tied its scarf around its neck. Blinking blearily at the mess, it seemed to realize what had occurred when it picked up a discarded bow-tie from the floor, holding it between forefinger and thumb, “Is it that time already?”
“It was bad this year,” Sherlock whispered, trying not to exacerbate the already fragile fandoms under its care.
“I remember what that was like,” Merlin muttered, running a hand through its hair and pulling a cape off the nearby coat rack, “I’ll go to the store. We’re out of milk again. May as well pick up some fish fingers, custard, and salt.”
Supernatural gurgled something quietly.
“No, I won’t forget the pie.”
I SWEAR TO GOD, TUMBLR. NEVER FUCKING CHANGE.
Reblogged from cannibal-crunch
I honestly feel so bad for the innocent North Korean Citizens
MEANWHILE, let’s discuss some reality.
For many years, all teachers in NorK had to play the accordion. It was a requirement. I am not making that up.
Haircuts are government approved. There is not a very long list.
Entire families will disappear in the dead of night, spirited away to prison camps. To drive this point home: When Kim Jong Ill died, not mourning him properly was enough to be sentenced like that.
Malnutrition and starvation are so rampant that the average NorK is six inches shorter than the average South Korean.
Do the citizens deserve any of it? No. They asked for none of this. They’re human. They’re also entirely brainwashed. It is Jonestown on the scale of a country.
You might also be interested in an Ask Me Anything by a recently escaped North Korean.
And here is the testimony of an escapee from NorK who worked at a prison camp. Not for the weak of stomach or will, here’s a sample.
Many prisoners died from hard work, poor treatment, and beatings. The dead bodies were often buried under the fruit trees in the prison orchard. The fruits (apples, pears, peaches, and plums) from the Kaechon orchard have earned a reputation for their large size and sweet taste. They are reserved for senior party and police officials.
On one occasion, 150 corpses were rolled up in straw mats and buried under the fruit trees. The families were never informed and the bodies can no longer be identified.
Welcome to North Korea.
YES THIS IS FOREVER WHAT I’VE BEEN TRYING TO GET EVERY ONE OF MY FRIENDS TO UNDERSTAND GEEZUS.
But…but, an alternative news said North Korea was a nice place!