House Martell: Not your erotic, not your exotic ›


(title taken from the poem of the same name by Suheir Hammad)

I’m crawling out of my little fandom hole because three episodes in, I’m becoming increasingly irritated at how Oberyn Martell and the Dornish on a whole are being portrayed in Game of Thrones.

Apparently, when not attending…

24 avril 2014 ♥ 1 413 notes    Reblog    
reblogged from queen-of-the-rhoynar    source: rumaan
Quand le ministère des droits des femmes dépolitise les discriminations salariales - Crêpe Georgette ›

23 avril 2014 ♥ 24 notes    Reblog    
reblogged from veille-permanente    source: mamie-caro


imagine if you woke up and your name was your url and you looked exactly like your icon

23 avril 2014 ♥ 140 985 notes    Reblog    
reblogged from narrowsea    source: 26px


Her little Johnny spend the whole day with his grandpa so she had for once the rest of the afternoon just for herself. Virginia’s beauty bloomed everywhere in Spring. Martha couldn’t resist the urge to enjoy it and she walked alone during hours without noticing it. A few steps away from the river passing through her father’s property, she sat down on the grass and laid on her back to listen to the water. Her umbrella was still on her horse but she had no envy to move, and didn’t really care much about the sun.
A sudden warm breeze betrayed him, carrying a perfume of soap and lavender to her noze. She heard his footsteps getting closer and opened her eyes blinded by the sun as a smile curled up her pink lips. Above her, red freckles and ginger hair. A smile, and she smiled back. Thomas. He took off his hat to sit beside her and silently joined her on the grass. They looked at everything but each others: at the clouds and their incongruous forms, at the birds and their mute waltz, at the leaves and their thousands shades of green given by the rays of light… Silence was comfortable between them and they both appreciated that. During long minutes they stared at the sky getting darker, the clouds turning into stars and the bright blue disappearing behind a black veil —he took her hand in his at some point. Quietude. Until one of them moved to whisper into the ear of the other, and the silence turned into a delightful giggle invading the night of May.

23 avril 2014 ♥ 43 notes    Reblog    
reblogged from joannalannister    source: marthajefferson


Bolero of Empress Eugénie, 1860’s

From the Réunion des Musées Nationaux

A word about bronies. ›



So I just got back last night from a brony convention in San Francisco. I was working a booth for a vendor friend, and let me tell you what happened:

We met a little girl who was there with her family. She got a button drawn at our booth, told us all…


Marie Antoinette (Sofia Coppola)
22 avril 2014 ♥ 235 notes    Reblog    
reblogged from 75016    source: gardenhidden