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Game of Thrones Daily

JBB: An Artblog!
occasionally subtle

Origami Around

roma★

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Jules of Nature
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Mike Driver
Xuebing Du
Not today Justin
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
sheepfilms

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
ojovivo
DEAR READER
Claire Keane
taylor price

seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
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seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from United States
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@bluxlab
gif battle vs. @3cbx • @98a • @whatchatalkabout • @syua • @minchims
round 16: an idol as a fictional character — irene as snow white
next, right, what could be next? i’m hit by reality, there’s nothing higher than this
daechwita (대취타) ; who’s the king, who’s the boss?
When he comes within five steps of you, lift your head. Meet the king’s gaze for exactly three breaths. On the first breath, the kings heart will stir. On the second breath, his heart will be seized. And on the third breath, the king’s soul will be yours
”His face… didn’t look like one that will be alive long anyway”
Acting like you live for the world. Don’t do such a thing if you’re not confident
being Adam Parrish was a C O M P L I C A T E D thing.
@ravencyclenetwork search: minimalism
↳ less is more…
Where do you live? . . . A place made for leaving.
. . . I was here. I exist. I’m alive, because I bleed.
“ ― dresses don’t look beautiful on hangers. ”
¦ alyss aeri soo ; tailor, designer & founder of “atelier of pied piper”
.
‟ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄. 𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐓.
⇢ credit.
stand with me.
⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀﹔ 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐍 . 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❝ 𝙎𝙐𝙉'𝙎 𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙒 ﹔ 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒖𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒏, 𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒂. 𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆, 𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖. ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙈𝘼𝘿𝙉𝙀𝙎𝙎 of the eyes is the lure of the abyss. She lurks in the dark depths of the pupils as her shadows lurk at the corner of the room, and there stands one of them, searching still for the profound and plaintive gazes in whose depths she might be able, like hamlet redeemed, to drown the Ophelia of her desire. The blurry silhouette trembles with fear under the sight of her eyes, glazed over years ago due to lack of sunlight she has desired to stare at. Meanwhile, her transparent eyes run over his, searching for the glint of a lie that would ensure her apprehensive heart. 𝘐𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳? He claims in such a stubborn manner that he would not even wander around her room if it is not for the elders, who insist it is his turn to bring her meal. He is new, he is a nomadian, a stranger to the knowledge of what kind of outsider the town is hiding. Yet, she refuses to believe him. His voice is not familiar, neither the words he so carefully chooses to use in front of her. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮?
⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝙄𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙪𝙨, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙡, 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡.