Yea, no, I’m totally making this blog private tonight and then making a new one that isn’t followed by these fucking people. If you want the new one, you should probably say something. I reserve the right to tell you to go away, though. Otherwise… it’s been fun.
lettering and photo by tristan allen, in our house, one year ago.
Yesterday I started to play Sleeping Dogs and Thomas Pendrew seems to be the Illusive Man of this game. I can’t help myself but Pendrew really reminds me of TIM. And he smokes…
AAAHHHH—god dammit. Now I’ve got Sleeping Dogs in my Mass Effect, and my Mass Effect in my Sleeping Dogs, and what am I supposed to do with all these?
I check my name tags daily. Just to be sure that all my comments have been ignored, I guess? I may leave social media again, but then I will lose what tenuous hold I have on a social life. I have no friends here but Kiwi, and it’s really starting to wear on me.
A man wearing a gas mask on top of Ataturk Cultural Center, Taksim
The closing lines of The Great Gatsby handwritten by F. Scott Fitzgerald under a portrait of him drawn by Robert Kastor.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And one fine morning —
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
for the record I DO like the Starks and my deepest wish is for Sansa and Rickon to be the ones in charge of Winterfell in the end. I don’t doubt he’ll always have a wild streak in him, much to Sansa’s chagrin u m u He will be too old to be shamed with being forced into the bath but sometimes we do what must be done.
Everything about this ;______; Ugh. I love Sansa so much.
girl, I just wanna draw my OC kissing your OC