lestat-and-louis-de-lioncourt:

Lestat: Bonsoir mes amis! Today I’m so happy because same-sex marriage is now legal in Germany! What a great day for love ~ ❤

…. Louis…. Louis… don’t read one of your silly books! We must celebrate this great day! I can marry you in Germany!

Louis: … you married me in France… do you forgot this?

Lestat: No mon amour! But I want to marry you, my sweetheart, in all countrys which make same-sex marriage possible and legal ~<3 Because I don’t get enough from you ~

Louis: ….. >///////>

Gallery

catsbeaversandducks:

image

Benny The Surrogate Cat Dad

Benny gets the most joy when his human mom brings home rescued kittens, so he can help look after them and show them the same love that he received when he was rescued. Whenever Ellen brings home an orphan baby (or a box of babies), Benny anticipates their arrival and is filled with excitement. He becomes their dedicated surrogate dad, and his fatherly instinct kicks in the moment he sees a kitten.

Photos by Ellen – Full Story on Love Meow

hagar-972:

animatedamerican:

alternativetodiscourse:

I’ve been thinking a lot about compassion in Judaism, and being kind. In that light, I would like everyone to know that my current favorite Jewish supernatural headcanon is that, instead of driving vampires away with crosses or stakes through the heart, we say the Mourner’s Kaddish for them. I mean, that’s just so adorable. You see this threatening undead creature, and instead of yelling murder, you feel bad for them, and you mourn for them. Imagine being a vampire at the receiving end of that, having been chased away for years and years and told you’re a monster when you come across someone who sees you and your existence and accepts that you’re in a pretty bad place and offers help in the best way they can. I’m actually tearing up about this a little. If someone adds to this post I’ll love them forever.

It doesn’t work for zombies.

This is one of the hardest things she learns, in the business.  Saying the Mourner’s Kaddish will slow a vampire, to stare at you with wide shocked eyes (and once, memorably, to weep blood-tinged tears), unable or unwilling to lift a hand against you.  It will calm a dybbuk, enough to make it stop whatever destruction it’s begun, and almost always enough to start a conversation about why it clings so desperately to the world of the living, what it’s left undone, how it can be freed to move on.  You have died, the Kaddish says, and we mourn you as we would mourn our own dead, because someone must.

But there is no soul and no mind left in a zombie, no vestige of the self it once was, nothing left for the Kaddish to speak to.

She says it anyway, with every head-shot, with every flung grenade.

Not because she still hopes one might hear her, but because they are dead, and the dead should be mourned.

…this is gorgeous.

fatedefied:

romancingthebookworm:

trapqueenkoopa:

weavemama:

POPE TWITTER IS FUCKING POPPIN 

things heat up in the jesus fandom

SWEET POTATOES YES. I adore Fr. Martin. 

Looked into it, and it’s real. Not only that, but if you look at his twitter account, he made some more awesome tweets that day that make me really happy to be a Catholic. I’ll include screenshots and text versions of them below.

It saddens me that a #trans student cannot choose what bathrooms to use. A basic need. It’s an affront to their dignity as human beings.

And who is harmed by a #trans student using a bathroom? I’ve seen women using men’s rooms when the ladies’ rooms were full. Who is harmed?

As usual, the one who is made to suffer indignities is the one on the margins, the one seen as “other,” the one seen as “them.”

But for Jesus, there is no “other.” There is no “them.”  There is only “us.” So we must be about openness, acceptance and inclusion. #trans 

Who should stand with the marginalized, the mocked, the bullied, the confused, the outcast, the minority? The Christian should. #trans

Because Jesus did. 


His Facebook post that day says something similar: 

Who should stand with the marginalized, the mocked, the bullied, the outcast, the confused, the hurt? Who should stand with the one seen as “different,” the one seen as “other,” the one seen as “them”? Who should stand with people who often stand alone? The Christian should. Because Jesus did.

Video

msaliviamarie:

thegrayship:

ekjohnston:

becks-tea:

didyouknowmagic:

The slow surrender of his hand is everything. 

This video gave me life

Here are fifteen of my favourite seconds from the internet.

tiny padme: *reaches for darth fucking vader’s hand and kisses it like nothing’s unusual*

vader: *looks into the camera like he’s in the office*

Her name is Lane! She’s a style ICON and I want to be her when I grow up. Here is her instagram

Gallery

superhiki:

The last dance for Nicolas!

These two play such amazing roles in The Vampire Lestat and I wish there had been more insight into the two of them dealing with one another in Armand’s book. I imagine this scene as a final, hateful, farewell… Perhaps there is an ounce of sadness or even relief in the both of them. 

I also included two wip stages in case you find those things interesting. 

What’s the most frantic you’ve ever felt?

devilsfool:

I’ve detailed one moment, when I was mortal, and with Nicolas in the inn. The realization of nothing, of endless darkness with no explanation or answer for suffering… I’ve learned since that these are called ‘panic attacks.’ We didn’t have such words, then. 

Another instance was when I was young. I think I might have been eight, maybe ten years old? I was being punished, though I’d be hard-pressed to tell you what I’d done. Most things, especially simple things, were enough reason to punish me, I suppose. I’m sure I wasn’t an easy child, and my father was not an easy man by any stretch of the imagination. 

He’d had my brothers lock me in my bedroom. But Charles, in a fit of charming cruelty, locked me not only into my bedroom but also into the wooden trunk at the foot of my bed. 

Oh, God, the panic. Have you been locked in a very small space before? And I don’t mean a coffin–a coffin, especially as a vampire, is a different experience. I mean a small, confined space into which you know you are not meant to be placed. I beat at the inside of the trunk for hours, crying and screaming to be released–but it was a castle, n’est-ce pas? Who was going to hear me outside the great stone walls of my room? 

Eventually, my nurse came to find me as night fell. It must have been when I did not appear at the table in the great hall with the rest of my family. What had they done when asked where I was, my idiot brothers? She didn’t even have the key, poor woman. From what I came to understand, Gabrielle finally forced its surrender (she has since told me that she slapped him; I find that satisfying) and came to my bedroom herself to free me. 

One happy family, non?