19th & 20th century tiaras

(via mygooold)

#glorious  

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(via soufflegirlandbeakyboy)

Forget stardust—you are iron. Your blood is nothing but ferrous liquid. When you bleed, you reek of rust. It is iron that fills your heart and sits in your veins. And what is iron, really, unless it’s forged?

You are iron.

And you are strong.

royallyvintage:

Prince George focuses on the important things.

(via royallovestory)

takemetoafandom:

You know what’s great? Musicals. You know what’s better? Fucked up musicals.

(via thespianism)

#truth  #broadway  

(via johnhwatson-)

I just, I can’t describe what I feel for you but it starts from the pit of my stomach and warms my chest until I can practically feel every nerve ending in my body and all I want is for you to touch my skin.

They’re dragons, Khaleesi. They can never be tamed. Not even by their mother.

(via j-moriarty)

sappling:

how many “take me to the museum and make out with me” posts can y’all make like damn you’re horny and pretentious we get it

(via sherlocks)

Hemingway and James Joyce were drinking buddies in Paris. Joyce was thin and bespectacled; Hemingway was tall and strapping. When they went out Joyce would get drunk, pick a fight with a bigger guy in the bar and then hide behind Hemingway and yell, “Deal with him, Hemingway. Deal with him.”

[x] (via newzerokaneda)

Between this and the story about him reassuring F. Scott Fitzgerald re dick size, I’m developing a picture of Hemingway as the mother hen of the disaffected white male literary set of the early 20th century.

He probably called up Steinbeck sometimes and was like I CAN’T EVEN WITH THESE DIPSHITS and Steinbeck was all “That’s what you get for living in Paris, asshole”.

(via copperbadge)

(via sirarthurconandoilies)