#Blackbrown

[hizokucycles]

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[eggbagelz]

Redraw of this bad boy from 2020. Oz put a shirt on part two electric boogaloo

[hexjulia]

wish my eyes were darker so no one could see that easily whether my pupils were contracting

[feyarcher]

Toronto people! Need furniture for cheap and can pick it up literally today (Monday April 29th)? I'm in the Annex, moving, and need to offload a bunch of stuff asap as in either before 5pm today or at like 9am on Tuesday. You have to come get it though and if able, ideally pay me like $20-50 cash for most things but if you are in a bind, I'm fine giving them for free.

Items that must gtfo:

-Blackbrown Ikea Malm double bedframe that lifts up for underbed storage*

-Small blackbrown Ikea table with 2 chairs (danderyd/ingolf I think)

-32" tv

-tiny blackbrown ikea tv stand, whatever their cheapest smallest one was. Free with tv if you want it.

-Small grey couch with double pull out bed*

-Brown faux leather armchair (sears rip)

-Black desk with one large drawer across the whole width. Has scuffs but 🤷‍♀️ (sears rip)

- Black 5 drawer dresser (sears rip)

- Portable AC unit. There is a tear in the hose that can probably be fixed with duct tape, but I leave that to the new owner.

- 2×4 Ikea Kallax in grey

- Half sized grey bookcase (wayfair)

Message me if you want something and can come get it. I can take pics in the morning if you ask for them too.

*bring 2 people. My back sucks and I cannot help you carry them. Also bed disassembly is up to you if desired but I do have tools you can use on this end.

[ineedtherapist]

Will Zeppeli s/o piece about him serving breakfast in bed? Can be headcanons or oneshot

ANON I LOVE YOUUU ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

As PB & BT loyal enthusiast I am using my absolute cruel & despicable power to skip all the other request so I can indulge myself in this most fluffy heartwarming masterpiece of an ask to ever exist

I WANNA MAKE A ONESHOT BUT I DON'T HAVE THE CAPABILITY TO DO IT *CRY

Will A. Zeppeli serving breakfast for his s/o hcs and drabbles

He's the type that cook on his free time as both hobby and a need. It doesn't matter if he's a guy. It's one of those things that give him a sense of normalcy, that he's still living and he's still a human amidst all the craziness and seemingly hopeless life fighting his cruel fate. There are also times when he missed family and home so cooking is the only way for William to keep them close to him.

That being said, his favourite meal time is breakfast and dinner. There's just something undescribable about the first meal at the fresh start of the day and the last meal to commemorate another day of heartfelt life and ofc well- survival.

He's also a fairly romantic person, carrying the zeppeli gene down to the core. Sure, for some people, bringing your s/o breakfast in bed is not something to be proud of, a routine even. But not for him. Cooking, breakfast and his s/o. Three of his most precious things in life together? What could be more lovely?

It's a bright and cool Saturday morning. The wind felt just nice and the sun wasn't too hot, perfect for a longer sleeping sessions. At least until the realization William wasn't beside you sink in. His side of the bed is cold meaning he's been out of it for quite some time.

'Maybe he's out training with those two..?'

The thought sounds more like a question than a statement.

'But it's Saturday and he says it himself he's staying in today.'

'Should I search for him..?'

Weighing all the options, you finally sigh. Your heart felt heavy and the day didn't felt so bright

or cool

or Saturday

anymore. Muffling your face into the pillow, your mouth started to hum a slow and comforting tune, your favourite tune, to soothe the uneasy feeling growing insides you.

To be frank, this is not something abnormal. It's just how your life usually went but that didn't mean the same anxious feeling you felt everyday actually subsided. The thought that one day you'll wake up alone forever without a trace of him which can happen at any moments given the nature of his job, frightened you.

'I hate this.'

Another sigh almost escaped from your lips yet was interrupted by a sudden knock on both you and William shared bedroom door. Looking up from the pillow, a small smile escaped your lips when you see the blackbrown haired man make his entrance.

"Morning bambola, how're you feeling?"

You didn't answer his questions instead beckon him to come closer in which he did. Taking both side of his face, you kiss his forehead lingering there longer than usual. William noticed the sudden gestures but didn't say anything instead reciprocate it with another kiss under your right eye.

'What's that?'

Your eyes settling on a medium sized tray in his hands, covered by a metal lid.

Grinning he put the tray in front of you and sit at the edge of the bed.

'A present, for my n only one'

Curious, you opened the tray to found almost all of your favourite breakfast menu dished out beautifully signalling all the effect the older man had put for you. You feel you're about to cry but instead you sit on the bed properly this time and reach out for him in which he again, gladly comply to.

'Thank you, it's beautiful amore.'

'Anything for you dearest.'

[buildingnothingoutofsomething]

i never updated yoy all on my hair color the blackbrown ended up being way darker than waht i had in mind so its basically jist black with a brown tint instead of blue. i dont know what i expected quite honestly. scientists are still trying to figure out a good hair color for aarne

[abandonedsdjfhcvndfbv]

What are these chicmenn nuggets man rthey have something crunchy and blackbrown isnide and kinda spicy

[milfstalin]

The following article, "Wounds" is by the Canadian communist and medical doctor, Norman Bethune, who died in China serving the revolution. It is a scathing critique of imperialist war. written 1939, published 1940

The kerosene lamp overhead makes a steady buzzing sound like an incandescent hive of bees. Mud walls. Mud floor. Mud bed. White paper windows. Smell of blood and chloroform. Cold. Three o'clock in the morning, December 1, North China, near Lin Chu, with the 8th Route Army. Men with wounds. Wounds like little dried pools, caked with blackbrown earth; wounds with torn edges frilled with black gangrene; neat wounds, concealing beneath the abscess in their depths, burrowing into and around the great firm muscles like a dammed-back river, running around and between the muscles like a hot stream; wounds, expanding outward, decaying orchids or crushed carnations, terrible flowers of flesh; wounds from which the dark blood is spewed out in clots, mixed with the ominous gas bubbles, floating on the fresh flood of the still-continuing secondary haemorrhage.

Old filthy bandages stuck to the skin with blood-glue. Careful. Belief moisten first. Through the thigh. Pick the leg up. Why it's like a bag, a long, loose red stocking. What kind of stocking? A Christmas stocking. Where's that find strong rod of bone now? In a dozen pieces. Pick them out with your fingers; white as a dog's teeth, sharp and jagged. Now feel. Any more left? Yes, here. All? Yes; no, here's another piece. Is this muscle dead? Pinch it. Yes, it's dead, Cut it out. How can that heal? How can those muscles, once so strong, now so torn, so devastated, so ruined, resume their proud tension? Pull, relax. Pull, relax. What fun it was! Now that is finished. Now that's done. Now we are destroyed. Now what will we do with ourselves?

Next. What an infant! Seventeen. Shot through the belly. Chloroform. Ready? Gas rushes out of the opened peritoneal cavity. Odour of feces. Pink coils of distended intestine. Four perforations. Close them. Purse string suture. Sponge out the pelvis. Tube. Three tubes. Hard to close. Keep him warm. How? Dip those bricks into hot water.

Gangrene is a cunning, creeping fellow. Is this one alive? Yes, he lives. Technically speaking, he is alive. Give him saline intravenously. Perhaps the innumerable tiny cells of his body will remember. They may remember the hot salty sea, their ancestral home, their first food. With the memory of a million years, they may remember other tides, other oceans, and life being born of the sea and sun. It may make them raise their tired little heads, drink deep and struggle back into life again. It may do that.

And this one. Will he run along the road beside his mule at another harvest, with cries of pleasure and happiness? No, that one will never run again. How can you run with one leg? What will he do? Why, he'll sit and watch the other boys run. What will he think? He'll think what you and I would think. What's the good of pity? Don't pity him! Pity would diminish his sacrifice. He did this for the defence of China. Help him. Lift him off the table. Carry him in your arms. Why, he's as light as a child! Yes, your child, my child.

How beautiful the body is: how perfect its pads; with what precision it moves; how obedient, proud and strong. How terrible when torn. The little flame of life sinks lower and lower, and with a flicker, goes out. It goes out like a candle goes out. Quietly and gently. It makes its protest at extinction, then submits. It has its day, then is silent.

Any more? Four Japanese prisoners. Bring them in. In this community of pain, there are no enemies. Cut away that blood-stained uniform. Stop that haemorrhage. Lay them beside the others. Why, they're alike as brothers! Are these soldiers professional man-killers? No, these are amateurs-in-arms. Workman's hands. These are workers-in-uniform.

No more. Six o'clock in the morning. God, it's cold in this room. Open the door. Over the distant, dark-blue mountains, a pale, faint line of light appears in the east. In an hour the sun will be up. To bed and sleep.

But sleep will not come. What is the cause of this cruelty, this stupidity? A million workmen come from Japan to kill or mutilate a million Chinese workmen. Why should the Japanese worker attack his brother worker, who is forced merely to defend himself. Will the Japanese worker benefit by the death of the Chinese? No, how can he gain? Then, in God's name, who will gain? Who is responsible for sending these Japanese workmen on this murderous mission? Who will profit from it? How was it possible to persuade the Japanese workmen to attack the Chinese Workman -- his brother in poverty; his companion in misery?

Is it possible that a few rich men, a small class of men, have persuaded a million men to attack, and attempt to destroy, another million men as poor as they? So that these rich may be richer still? Terrible thought! How did they persuade these poor men to come to China? By telling them the truth? No, they would never have cone if they had known the truth, Did they dare to tell these workmen that the rich only wanted cheaper raw materials, more markets and more profit? No, they told them that this brutal war was "The Destiny of the Race," it was for the "Glory of the Emperor," it was for the "Honour of the State," it was for their "King and Country."

False. False as hell!

The agents of a criminal war of aggression, such as this, must be looked for like the agents of other crimes, such as murder, among those who are likely to benefit from those crimes. Will the 80,000,000 workers of Japan, the poor farmers, the unemployed industrial workers -- will they gain? In the entire history of the wars of aggression, from the conquest of Mexico by Spain, the capture of India by England, the rape of Ethiopia by Italy, have the workers of those "victorious" countries ever been known to benefit? No, these never benefit by such wars. Does the Japanese workman benefit by the natural resources of even his own country, by the gold, the silver, the iron, the coal, the oil? Long ago he ceased to possess that natural wealth. It belongs to the rich, the ruling class. The millions who work those mines live in poverty. So how is he likely to benefit by the armed robbery of the gold, silver, iron, coal and oil from China? Will not the rich owners of the one retain for their own profit the wealth of the other? Have they not always done so?

It would seem inescapable that the militarists and the capitalists of Japan are the only class likely to gain by this mass murder, this authorized madness, this sanctified butchery. That ruling class, the true state, stands accused.

Are wars of aggression, wars for the conquest of colonies, then, just big business? Yes, it would seem so, however much the perpetrators of such national crimes seek to hide their true purpose under banners of high-sounding abstractions and ideals. They make war to capture markets by murder; raw materials by rape. They find it cheaper to steal than to exchange; easier to butcher than to buy. This is the secret of war. This is the secret of all wars. Profit. Business. Profit. Blood money.

Behind all stands that terrible, implacable God of Business and Blood, whose name is Profit. Money, like an insatiable Moloch, demands its interest, its return, and will stop at nothing, not even the murder of millions, to satisfy its greed. Behind the army stand the militarists. Behind the militarists stand finance capital and the capitalist. Brothers in blood; companions in crime.

What do these enemies of the human race look like? Do they wear on their foreheads a sign so that they may be told, shunned and condemned as criminals? No. On the contrary. they are the respectable ones. They are honoured. They call themselves, and are called, gentlemen. What a travesty on the name, Gentlemen! They are the pillars of the state, of the church, of society. They support private and public charity out of the excess of their wealth. they endow institutions. In their private lives they are kind and considerate. they obey the law, their law, the law of property. But there is one sign by which these gentle gunmen can be told. Threaten a reduction on the profit of their money and the beast in them awakes with a snarl. They become ruthless as savages, brutal as madmen, remorseless as executioners. Such men as these must perish if the human race is to continue. There can be no permanent peace in the world while they live. Such an organization of human society as permits them to exist must be abolished.

These men make the wounds.

1939

[roughentumble]

for rodrick im thinking blackbrown curls that he pins up out of his face somehow, with a scar on his lip that runs up and carves a nick out of his nose, and for starling sandybrown tousled hair and bright green eyes. they'll be of a height, with rory as obviously more muscular since he Kills Stuff For A Living. starling will be basically unblemished and vainly proud of this, while rory has scars along his body, some from fights, but some that are like cracks in his skin that glow ever so faintly from within. it's a side effect of the magic that turned him into a modified monster hunter, with improved speed and strength with just a hint of magic to manipulate. but it isnt his own magic exactly, it's someone else's embedded under his skin

[whatdoesthathavetodowiththis]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: VINTAGE COACH BUCKLE Logo Canvas and Suede Wristlet CIRCA 2004.

[ksfoxwald]

#HI I WANT AN EXCUSE TO TALK ABOUT THIS FOR A SEC#it is soooo busy it is too busy!!! this is the visual equivalent of lgbtqia+ in that i understand why it exists but it is SO cumbersome#half the flag is taken up by the tiny stripes of the chevron and the colors are all over and it doesn't read clearly at all#the 6 stripe flag is lovely and we should keep using it for things so that using it doesn't become some sort of terfy dogwhistle!!!#my other fave is how last year disney swapped from doing blackbrown-trans-rainbow to doing blackbrown-rainbow-trans and it works so well!#the colors are balanced and look so nice together and it still reads as a rainbow flag and i think we should all use it#even if disney probably copyrighted it or something idk#Disney has graphic designers the same way they have lawyers lmaooo but they are really good at what they do#Looking forward to hitting up the stores and buying all their gimmicky food at pride month loloolol#but yeah sometimes when you get too granular in inclusivity it starts to circle around to become offputting and exclusionary#in summary I see why people would use this flag but I think it should be used to purpose and not become the default please and thank you

Same though, like I understand why we keep Voltron-ing the flag and at this point there is no way to un-Voltron it without sounding like a TERF but I had a lot of Feelings when the black and brown stripes were added that were basically I think it should have been used as as a BIPOC Pride flag, but instead it became a virtue signalling "I'm not racist! and if you use the other flag than YOU'RE racist!" flag and I hate that.

And also I am just one rando on the internet with no power to change any of that even if I thought it would be worth it.

This flag is pretty divisive within the queer community, so I was wondering what everyone here thought of it. This poll is about the design of the flag, not what it represents.

[bezelbeauty]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Steve Madden Zebra Heels 7.

[blossomingbabe]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Sakroots Boho Knit Multicolor Rainbow Stripe Hand Crochet Woven Shoulder Bag.

[leatherlocker]

Upper: High Quality Calf-Skin / Suede Leather

Inner: Soft Leather

Sole: Leather

Gender : Male

Heel: Leather

Color: Black Brown

Style: Wing Tip Lace Up Dress Shoes

Lining Soft Calf Leather Lining

https://www.storenvy.com/products/32250661-handmade-black-brown-wing-tip-suede-leather-lace-up-shoes

[beauty-and-beyond18]

#lipstick #lipgloss #mascara #brown #blackbrown #waterproof www.youravon.com/arlenebailey https://www.instagram.com/p/BoKJhjXgy2Y/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=wo7e7qysjv3d