Game of Thrones Daily
tumblr dot com
No title available
almost home
sheepfilms
Claire Keane
roma★
Kaledo Art
No title available
Sweet Seals For You, Always
DEAR READER
⁂
AnasAbdin
d e v o n
No title available
Cosimo Galluzzi
i don't do bad sauce passes
occasionally subtle
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Thailand
seen from Israel
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Singapore
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@rosemoonpriestess
I didn’t know there were twenty thousand vegans on tumblr!!!
You can be against animal cruelty and not be a vegan
You can be against animal cruelty and not be a vegan
Also given the fact some vegans wilfully neglect their pet’s diet for personal belief reasons you can in fact be a vegan and be ok with animal cruelty when its convenient for you.
^^^^ Reblogging especially for that last comment.
You can be against animal cruelty and not be a vegan
Museum of the Moon in the oldest church in Cluj-Napoca. Artist Luke Jerram.
The Tarantula Nebula
Sainte-Chapelle du Palais, Paris
CHARACTER POSTERS: hamlet
↳ I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious.
Night at the Museum
“No drinking during night shifts.”
Big Courfeyrac vibes.
I didn’t know there were twenty thousand vegans on tumblr!!!
You can be against animal cruelty and not be a vegan
You can be against animal cruelty and not be a vegan
Also given the fact some vegans wilfully neglect their pet’s diet for personal belief reasons you can in fact be a vegan and be ok with animal cruelty when its convenient for you.
^^^^ Reblogging especially for that last comment.
You can be against animal cruelty and not be a vegan
1860s Paris
sxvageantinous
Enjolras’ eyes gently stared at her soot colored curls; so similar in color to his — her deep blue eyes, too, but they seemed to hold an almost ethereal luminescence. A soft glow. He extended his fair hand slowly to her in the shadowed alley. “Will you allow me to help you? A child alone at night, here, it is not safe..”
He waited quietly for her to small fingers to touch his. She couldn’t stay here like this. “I go by my surname Enjolras, but you can call me Antoín if you find it more comfortable..will you tell me yours?”
The instant his hand extended to her Claudia flinched away as if her had struck her. Even if he wanted to, could he really help her? What could a human possibly do for her? What if he turned her in? She wasn’t in a good state to get away from authority, even if they were human.
How could she trust him?
At his request of her name she shook her head. Word spread to fast. A name in the wrong hands of anyone would be bad. Especially after what she had been through. All she could do was look at him with fear and uneasiness.
Enjolras looked despaired at her, withdrawing his hand. “Someone has harmed you very badly. You look terrified, cher..I have warm water and home. You cannot be on the street. Other children end up in evil hands, or become sick and pass.” The blonde youth stared sorrowfully back at the child as she shrunk further into the shadows.
“Please..trust me. I’m creating a rebellion; a revolution; to overthrow the monarchy and bring freedom to all the poor and down-trodden. All the citizens of France. It’s only just begun.” Enjolras inched closer to her tentatively, opening his arms. “Please?”
Grantaire, to Enjolras: Here's what you're doing, you're saying 'here are my buttons, push them', and I'm sitting here like, 'I like buttons'.
By Cassandra Jean
1860s Paris
@sxvageantinous
Enjolras walked along, his gait graceful and yet rigid - walking with purpose and yet a smoothness to each footfall. His wheat blonde curls touching his shoulders bounced with each determined step. The Paris night was cool, glancing towards the sky at the speckling of stars beginning to appear on the deep indigo transitioning to inky black. He appeared like something from a painting; an archangel.
His attention changed suddenly, seeing a young, delicate girl with tattered clothing and covered in soot out of the corner of his eye. Enjolras reached her quickly; the seriousness melted from his face that was now gentle. Cerulean eyes flickered over her. “..Are you an orphan?” He whispered gently, his heart starting to beat at a quicker pace with worry at her state. His softness for children was undeniable.
Claudia’s blue hues spotted him even before he was aware o her presence. The way he walked with confidence and grace immediately made her think of Lestat. She was looking for easy prey and at that moment he did not fit the picture. Just like everybody else, she was thinking he would simple pace by but to her surprise, he didn’t. Which she wasn’t sure was a good thing or bad thing.
The moment they locked eye she was hoping she could just shrink back into the darkness but she knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. Before she had time to react and address the situation as to what to do, he approached. All that was left to do was improvise.
Cling to the ally way, Claudia shifted back slightly. “Oui, monsieur…” Her voice replied back softly. In her tattered shape, how could she be anything more. No one would believe otherwise.
This man was incredible beautiful. A couple of years ago she would have attempted to lair him away in a heart beat but in her current state all she could do was worry. He couldn’t be prey? People would notice if someone like him went missing and after what she had been through, she couldn’t take the chance. All she could think of was the trouble this man could cause her.
What was she going to do?
Enjolras’ eyes gently stared at her soot colored curls; so similar in color to his — her deep blue eyes, too, but they seemed to hold an almost ethereal luminescence. A soft glow. He extended his fair hand slowly to her in the shadowed alley. “Will you allow me to help you? A child alone at night, here, it is not safe..”
He waited quietly for her to small fingers to touch his. She couldn’t stay here like this. “I go by my surname Enjolras, but you can call me Antoín if you find it more comfortable..will you tell me yours?”
“I sleep with the dead. I am halfway there.”
— Channing M
Weeping Mary.
On my veins, it’s not the blood that flows, but the melody of the overture of “Les Miserables”
“There’s a fire in you alone Made of soft, satin embers,”
— Arthur Rimbaud, tr. by Paul Weinfield, from “Eternity,” (via peonyie)
