(the opposite of Albinism)
Gorgeous.
Goddamn beautiful.
I want to hug them all
This gene is all up in the squirrel population near where I live. You see black squirrels everywhere. I swear.
omg
omg
omg
that final scene
cersei’s voiceover
everything
and then the rains of castamere
i can’t
i worship at the altar of lena headey
also
i’m so glad grrm wrote this episode
i mean. this episode. literally shaking.
Such a good episode. You can tell he was the one writing it.
/ALAS
I HAVE FINISHEDMY DAVE STRIDER SHOES
~
-siiiiiighohh MY GOD???????
THESE ARE PERFECT
sweet kicks
Love- A Poem
When he spoke of her she was his “woman”
and when she met his eyes, she thought, “My captor.”
She had loved him once,
Irrationally.
Passionately.
In that reckless way
that naivety
flings its glass body
at an immobile stone wall
thinking it can be moved.
But there was no fairy tale concealed inside him.
No tenderness.
Only lust,
consuming, burning, lust
and a desire to possess Control
over a weaker, softer, human.
So she wept when he was out
pumping his “love” into other women.
And she grew to hate the spoon-fed “rules” of her youth
even more than she hated the man.
And the more she hated,
the more it burned her
when his hands roved over her body,
prodding and probing,
and searching for that
sign of life
outside of earth.
And when, at last,
she caught fire
and went up in a blaze of flame
and smoke,
she took one step.
then two
then three
four
five
six
and continued onward.
And eventually,
when she looked back
and she looked forward,
she saw only trees.
Her prison of a house
with its white-washed fence
and flowerbox windows
and manicured lawn
was Nowhere.
Her husband,
her Master,
her Captor,
was Nowhere.
And, at last,
she laid on hard rock
and rotted leaves
and slept
in peace
and Freedom.
