I don’t dream about anyone… @pygmadevil - Tumblr Blog

this is my favorite account on letterboxd

#Reviews ghostwritten by me…#He’s so yummy. 😮‍💨#hugh grant

The real moral of Dredge is to curb your heterosexual tendencies and never EVER listen to your evil alter.

Meursault is so funny. What do you mean you first experienced bisexuality because your friend looked sad and submissive during your murder trial?

#the stranger #l’étranger #meursault #albert camus #the outsider

melodylove-art

Help how do I draw this man

#Big bumper sticker that says ‘I BRAKE FOR SHARKS’#hazbin hotel #vox

thepromiscuousfinger

I love very specific cakes

joanthebonelord

Meursault L'Étranger to the court at his trial.

#Ok I laughed at this.#l’étranger #the stranger #albert camus

slowburningechoes

Robert Sean Leonard, pointing, as “Professor Henry Higgins” in two different 2013 productions of Pygmalion, one at The Old Globe (Jan-Feb) and the other at the Williamstown Theatre Festival (July).

I call this collection ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Pointing in Pygmalion ˖ ࣪ ⊹

(RIP Richard Easton, he’s turning over in his grave every time Bobby points.)

#pygmalion

Ate honey & apples on brioche tonight and was told by my roommate that I have, quote, “a bear diet”.

#What does that mean?

soranatus

SINNERS By comic artist, Rombutan

philliwolf5

So much talent out there!!

#sinners

tio-trile

Something something vampires have no reflection so he can't even try to see his brother's face anymore when he looks into the mirror

#sinners

splatteronmywalls

#Very cool poster.#deliverance

apoemaday

You

by Carol Ann Duffy

Uninvited, the thought of you stayed too late in my head, so I went to bed, dreaming you hard, hard, woke with your name, like tears, soft, salt, on my lips, the sound of its bright syllables like a charm, like a spell.

Falling in love is glamorous hell; the crouched, parched heart like a tiger ready to kill; a flame’s fierce licks under the skin. Into my life, larger than life, beautiful, you strolled in. I hid in my ordinary days, in the long grass of routine, in my camouflage rooms. You sprawled in my gaze, staring back from anyone’s face, from the shape of a cloud, from the pining, earth-struck moon which gapes at me

and I open the bedroom door. The curtains stir. There you are on the bed, like a gift, like a touchable dream.

Was doing silly nonsense online during my class and midway through my lecturer (making a point about media) turned to me and asked “What if I punched you?”

#Likely because I was at the front of the class. Still…#Objectively it was quite funny.#I was a bit flabbergasted.