imbroglio.

Morning in Prague by Markus Grunau

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 01:46:00 +0200

Morning in Prague by Markus Grunau

Carice van Houten by John Lindquist

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 23:32:55 +0200

Carice van Houten by John Lindquist

I think everyone has that [a natural darkness], actually. I...

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 23:29:14 +0200

_{I think everyone has that [a natural darkness], actually. I think you just have to be honest about it and be willing to explore that.}

Littlefinger was only a mask he had to wear. Only sometimes...

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 08:19:23 +0200

Littlefinger was only a mask he had to wear. Only sometimes Sansa found it hard to tell where the man ended and the mask began. Littlefinger and Lord Petyr looked so very much alike. She would have fled them both, perhaps, but there was nowhere for her to go. Winterfell was burned and desolate, Bran and Rickon dead and cold. Robb had been betrayed and murdered at the Twins, along with their lady mother. Tyrion had been put to death for killing Joffrey, and if she ever returned to King’s Landing the queen would have her head as well. The aunt she’d hoped would keep her safe had tried to murder her instead. Her uncle Edmure was a captive of the Freys, while her great-uncle the Blackfish was under siege at Riverrun. I have no place but here, Sansa thought miserably, and no true friend but Petyr.

Photo

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 07:36:35 +0200

courais: game of thrones dystopian au → the north “they say...

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 22:17:29 +0200

courais:

game of thrones dystopian au → the north

“they say the north exploded with light the first day, when the doom hit winterfell. all the plants died and the snow melted for leagues around the ruin of the place. the sky rained ash and the folk who looked at it all went blind. the water turned colors but we didn’ know any better did we? we drank it all and ate the meat and then the babes were born all wrong and we started doin’ things a little differently in these parts.

they say folk saw them stark boys escape, their faces covered in the masks we all wear now, but something was wrong about ‘em, one boy—the little one—they say he was eatin’ the bones of his maester and the other one is half-wolf, all wild eyes, claws, n’ teeth.”

icoulduseinsouciantmaybe: crossbowsandwalkers: me when I find...

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 21:06:56 +0200

icoulduseinsouciantmaybe:

crossbowsandwalkers:

me when I find a new actor/actress

#do you ever just channel willem dafoe and dramatically throw yourself into a bush

blackbirdbaroness: OMG

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 11:19:43 +0200

blackbirdbaroness:

OMG

master and margarita fancast: margarita [eva green] “The cream...

Thu, 13 Jun 2013 12:20:50 +0200

master and margarita fancast: margarita [eva green]

“The cream spread easily and, as it seemed to Margarita, evaporated at once. Having rubbed several times, Margarita glanced into the mirror and dropped the box right on her watch crystal, which became covered with cracks. Margarita closed her eyes, then glanced once again and burst into stormy laughter.

Her eyebrows, plucked to a thread with tweezers, thickened and lay in even black arches over her greening eyes. The thin vertical crease cutting the bridge of her nose, which had appeared back then, in October, when the master vanished, disappeared without a trace. So did the yellowish shadows at her temples and the two barely noticeable little webs of wrinkles at the outer corners of her eyes. The skin of her cheeks filled out with an even pink colour, her forehead became white and clear, and the hairdresser’s waves in her hair came undone.”

okayophelia: Archetypes | THE TRICKSTER See him hiding...

Thu, 13 Jun 2013 10:16:10 +0200

okayophelia:

Archetypes | THE TRICKSTER

See him hiding in plain sight, with charm and flair, smoking your cigarettes and drinking all the rum, promising you the moon with one face and stealing your immortal soul and your pocketwatch with the other. The trickster more often than not cannot be understood, merely guessed at, for he wears many masks and takes delight in playing the fool to make greater fools of others. He is a black hole at the centre of the story with many reflecting facets, a blind spot in the hero’s vision, sucking up all the love and light and truth and turning them into shining rupturing distractions. He is a gateway to transformation and the underworld, with chaos at his right hand and death at his left, and a terrible whimsy in between. Change is the song he sings, and chaos the ruin that he wreaks. Like a particularly toothsome shark, he will never stop moving onward.

He cannot abide any absolute or rule, will rattle at the cages of authorities until they come tumbling down. He likes to watch worlds crashing and burning and whirling like a whizzing firecracker with them. He has no care for good or evil, no need for the usual vices and virtues of humanity. Where others see fate and patterns, morality and honour, gods and righteousness, he sees only lies stretched over mayhem, and plays with them like a child playing cat’s cradle. Lies are his mother tongue, and with them he shapes and reshapes himself and the world to his liking. He may be destructive or merry, precise or bacchanalian, dealing out death or candy or all at once, but he is never, ever tame. He has no means but chaos, no plan but disorder, no motive but winning whatever fickle game he is playing against the universe, and so may be left standing alone in a burning wreckage that he never intended to create. (He will probably laugh for the flames anyway).

He charms, he whittles at wills, he holds up a mirror to your soul and will twist your mind until everything you see is so warped you will trust only him to speak the truth. And the truth he will speak; only just enough truth to fit his purpose best. He is not a guide; though he may become one by chance or boredom. Humanity is a fascination for him; an ongoing project. He may hate, or he may love, but only in strange ways unbound from traditional emotion, from right or respect or truth, but in creeping, crawling, manic ways that burn and turn the object of his love inside out; that sends them howling mad into the abyss until they destroy themselves or come out the other side burned clean, like earth scorched and made fertile to grow things not seen ever before.

What he desires above all else is to be free, free to pursue his pleasures in all their caprice and recklessness through the playground of the world. Yet often, in the end, he is bound for his crimes against nature. He will always rise again. Change is his game.

Examples: The Devil, Hannibal, Jack Sparrow, Tyler Durden, Loki (when he’s not trying to rule the world), Robin Goodfellow, Iago, Prometheus, Howl Jenkins, the Doctor, Alice Morgan, Moriarty, Anansi, Coyote, The Joker.

fattributes: Earl Grey and Vanilla Bean Birthday Cake

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 13:34:47 +0200

fattributes:

Earl Grey and Vanilla Bean Birthday Cake

George R. R. Martin, A Clash of Kings

Tue, 11 Jun 2013 08:26:31 +0200

_{George R. R. Martin, A Clash of Kings}

We are not southerners.

Sun, 09 Jun 2013 10:26:33 +0200

We are not southerners.

Dance wasn’t for me. I like to tell stories and play roles, but...

Sat, 08 Jun 2013 20:09:12 +0200

Dance wasn’t for me. I like to tell stories and play roles, but you’re limited to physical expression in dance. I wanted more. (x)

davosseaworth: “For the night is dark and full of terrors.”

Sat, 08 Jun 2013 13:16:34 +0200

davosseaworth:

“For the night is dark and full of terrors.”

mybeautifulidiot: We’re all ghosts to you.

Sat, 08 Jun 2013 13:00:22 +0200

mybeautifulidiot:

We’re all ghosts to you.

Photo

Sat, 08 Jun 2013 12:59:56 +0200

The Orion Nebula

Thu, 06 Jun 2013 02:23:25 +0200

The Orion Nebula

red-riding-hoodie: “I should’ve had the mother whipped and...

Thu, 06 Jun 2013 01:14:19 +0200

red-riding-hoodie:

“I should’ve had the mother whipped and thrown
her child down a well … but the babe did have my eyes.”

- Roose Bolton; A Dance with Dragons

Father and son are more alike than GRRM gave them credit.
A+ casting and acting.

mcgrathed: credit pics: nicconicco

Wed, 05 Jun 2013 23:23:37 +0200

mcgrathed:

credit pics: nicconicco