scraps of the universe
“The loss of those illusions that give such color to the world so that you don’t care wether things are true or false as long as they partake of the magical glory.”
-- Scott Fitzgerald, 1924
(NSFW warning: This blog may contain posts that are not safe for work!)
-
Shapes In the Garden (12 of 15) by sleystl on Flickr.
-
-
Happy Birthday, Remus Lupin!
-
-
mfdp:
‘The pale blue door’ (in Berlin) by Tony Hornecker.
This is a travelling pop-up restaurant made out of scraps.The Pale Blue Door’s...
(via daddyfuckedme)
Happy Birthday, Remus Lupin!
(via fuckyeahharrypotter)
mfdp:
‘The pale blue door’ (in Berlin) by Tony Hornecker.
This is a travelling pop-up restaurant made out of scraps.The Pale Blue Door’s capacity is 45 people and is popular with open-minded diners. Drag queens provide suitably surreal entertainment, singing to the customers as they negotiate the labyrinthine set and climb ladders in steep stilettos.
(via lesserriking)
do want!
(via sconnieabdaddy)
I intend to do a few different versions of the same sentiment. Look, it’s safe for work! There’s no nudity!
(via ageplayswitches)
(via fuckyeahgameofthrones)
HUGE day for love. After months of hard work and protest, marriage equality has passed in France — 331 to 225.
(via cutelesbians)
Hours of my torment—I wonder if other men ever have the like, out of the like feelings? Is there even one other like me—distracted—his friend, his lover, lost to him? Is he too as I am now? Does he still rise in the morning, dejected, thinking who is lost to him? And at night, awaking, think who is lost? Does he too harbor his friendship silent and endless? Harbor his anguish and passion? Does some stray reminder, or the casual mention of a name, bring the fit back upon him, taciturn and deprest? Does he see himself reflected in me? In these hours, does he see the face of his hours reflected?
(via fuckyeahtheonandrobb)
Theon is my murdered father’s ward and I am my murdered father’s son. Like my father and Robert, bound in blood, if not by blood, we are brothers.
(via fuckyeahtheonandrobb)
under the waves and the earth of an age
lie a thousand old northerners’ graves
(via fuckyeahtheonandrobb)
