sedpeccasseiuvat - Tumblr blog

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wildest part of the chappell drama is that she's right lmao

like all the shit im seeing is "blah blah she's entitled to her opinion" and "why are we looking to a celeb for good takes" and sure yeah ok but also,,,,, she has a fucking point???? and im not actually seeing enough of that.

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i'm literally the priest's favorite sacrificial lamb because i am so docile and sweet and i hold very still when they put the rope around my neck and i trot along so happily while they lead me to the altar and they do not even have to tie me down because i lie so very still and only bleat once or twice in my lovely lamb voice and when the knife comes down it cuts through me like butter and i offer no resistance and i bleed so prettily all over my new white wool and my guts all unspool like the most beautiful shining yarn and my eyes are animal and dumb and hold no accusation and every time i die i come right back as another little lamb because the priest loves me so so much and he always chooses me for the sacrifice every time and he always places one hand on my small and twitching nose to calm me while he lifts the knife and he doesn't do it for the other lambs only me because i'm his favorite

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damn girl, you'll make the prettiest flowers once your body rots into the earth

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good omens dares to ask the important questions such as what if god used she/they pronouns and the serpent of eden was a faggot

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i keep waiting to feel well to get work done but the thing is i just never really feel well

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DOMUS AUREA - Rome.

Photos: Andreas Wiessner (March 10, 2024)

After the great fire in Rome on July 19, 64, Emperor Nero ordered the construction of a new palace (he did not like the old one). Nero was not interested in politics and even less in military affairs, his true interest was art: music, theater, poetry and beautiful works. The palace was built on the neighborhoods destroyed by the fire and called DOMUS AUREA (Golden House). It was this fact that made the people believe that he himself had ordered the burning of Rome, although it is very likely that the fire was accidental and Nero simply took advantage of the new space. Nevertheless, he only lived there for a few months before taking his own life. Three years later, Emperor Vespasian took all the treasures of Nero's palace and, added to the gold and treasures of the temple of Jerusalem, ordered the construction of the Amphitheater known as The Colosseum in that place, as well as thermal baths and other facilities that brought joy to the people. Even so, part of the ruins of the Domus Aurea emerged and are now an archaeological site.

Text: ancientcharm

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FULL VERSION👀

I swear, the cottage wives au is getting written, I have two witnesses…… but I can’t resist some art in the meantime

Ko-Fi

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infatuation makes your heart race love is quiet. love sets you at ease.

and because most of my pieces are mental screenshots of little scenes in my head, here's the scene:

Crowley was tugged into consciousness bit by bit. The afternoon light slowly filtered in, as well as the hum of music from the other room and the weird angle his neck was at. He was warm and content and wanted to sink back into his nap, but the threads of sleep fluttered away the more he tried. Finally, he took a deeper breath, shifting in the armchair, and cracked an eye open just a sliver. There he was, the angel, sitting at his desk. Had hardly noticed Crowley was awake, engulfed in his task of retouching a damaged page. Looking at his hands, Crowley became aware of the fuzzy warmth covering his own and peeked down to see a blanket tucked around his shoulders.

The feeling hit him so hard he let his head loll to the side, eyes closed. His chest tightened and he just…buckled. Finally came undone under the weight of his love for Aziraphale. Its inexorable, steadfast pull which he had been pushing back against for millennia, it had finally caught him off guard, sleepy and vulnerable and so tired from holding back, from refusing to name it. It was a quiet surrender. Crowley looked back at Aziraphale with the understanding of a man meeting his end and embracing it.

Perhaps he could gently pull the blanket to the side and get up. Perhaps he could cross the few steps to the desk and place a freshly made cup of tea to Aziraphale’s right. Perhaps he would hold his gaze, for longer than needed to answer “Don’t mention it”. Perhaps he would ask him if he would like a scone with that. Perhaps Aziraphale would understand that this was not about the scone at all. And yet, what Crowley was asking of him was also exactly about scones. And tea. And quiet afternoons together. Perhaps the angel would finally put down his sword, too, and the world would let out a breath it had been holding for millennia.

the soulmate to this piece, i guess.

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Fresco from Pompeii.

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I am literally one of those high strung Respect Our Troops middle aged dads but about Frodo Baggins. If you hate on him I'm gonna pivot into a lecture about everything he's fought for and sacrificed and how you wouldn't last a day in his circumstances and

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nothing matches the hunger of a repressed divorced housewife

(cottage au)

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space BFFs ♡♡♡

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"You said trust me" "And you did."

1941 Crowley burning the evidence.

What he is listening to: (We'll meet again by Vera Lynn) https://youtu.be/8Nzy1cfnKh4?si=xPz_ePenfulKu1zp

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Available as a print: https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/beanart

More of my art: https://www.instagram.com/beatenossart

My coffee community and tip jar: https://ko-fi.com/beanart

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one fabulous kiss

new artstyle who dis?