#an unidentified man

[tudorqueen6]

Hans Holbein the Younger “An unidentified man”

HANS HOLBEIN THE YOUNGER (1497/8-1543) An unidentified man c.1532-43Black and coloured chalks, white bodycolour, pen and ink, and brush and ink on pale pink prepared paper | 27.1 x 18.9 cm (sheet of paper) | RCIN 912260 Wikipedia While researching Sir William Parr, 1st Marquess of Northampton, I came upon this portrait AGAIN! According to Susan James’ “Catherine Parr: Henry VIII’s Last Love”,…

[gnawgag]

game shows touch our lives - the mountain goats // unidentified man 3 - sarah charlesworth

[wolveria]

They're back babyyyyy

[gach-artblog]

I heard if you stay with someone for too long, you're likely to mimic their habit/ gesture without knowing. I think this will definitely happen with my MC and Solomon, they just haven't noticed it yet.

🌟: I wonder why Satan always drags you out whenever I offer to make dinner, Yoru? I mean, we study together all the time so isn't it normal for study buddies to have a meal together?

🐑: ... Yeah, I wonder why. Goodwill is supposed to be appreciated after all.

(📗: Goodwill is not supposed to bring people diarrhea!!)

[writerfromthestars]

DC SHORT FIC : DAMIJON ANGST

It is dark when Jon holds him for the last time.

The dusk is deepening into twilit night, sky bruising purple like his love’s skin, darkness snuffing out the light in his emerald eyes, the ones that always mesmerized Jon to no end. 

He would stare at them for hours if he could, hands clasped together and time frozen at a standstill, infinity in perfect, flawless viridian.

He never realized how much emotion was in Damian’s eyes until it was gone, a spark destroyed, overtaken by too much shadow, not enough life left. The crystal clarity, sharp and cutting, analyzing him, is gone, a glazed expression to move no more.

Jon raises a hand to Damian’s face. He sweeps back a lock of hair that has fallen across his cheek, a brushstroke of ebony so similar to the ones he uses to shape faces on canvas. It’s soft, he realizes. Soft, and Jon leans down, burying his face in the space between his best friend’s neck and shoulder. Damian smells like dirt and blood and smoke and fire, but underneath there is an undercurrent of the shampoo he used this morning before they suited up and left for this mission. It’s Jon’s shampoo that Damian had taken a liking to. 

He wants to cry. To rage and scream and destroy, because what is the point of living if his love is dead, if the only one he’s ever truly needed, the only one who’d never leave him, is gone, gone to the one place Jon cannot reach, no matter how far or fast he flies.

His ears are ringing. He doesn’t know why. He’s invulnerable, after all.

Jon holds him close, like he did when they were young, Robin and Superboy, like he did when they were teenagers, Damian and Jon, like he does now, Batman and Superman, two halves of a whole, teammates and partners and best friends and lovers. Colleagues and roommates and supporters of each other. Sweethearts and admirers, paramours and beloveds. 

He holds him tight, a hug like the ones they give each other before they leave for patrol and an embrace like the ones when they reunite again. Like the ones he gave at sleepovers and on long stakeouts, beach days and picnics in the Metropolis Parks because Gotham was too dangerous for a date as civilians.

Jon kisses bloodstained lips and watches emerald fade, and then he stands up. 

He leaves his beloved’s side and he runs towards the enemy, a war cry to rival his father’s falling from his lips as tears carve tracks on bloody, muddy cheeks. 

The enemy falls. 

A green spear is thrown as he does, finding its target just a little off,  in a stomach instead of a heart. 

Jon goes back to Damian. The green of the glowing Kryptonite looks like his love’s eyes, and he smiles, a broken, ugly, beautiful thing. 

He pulls it out of his stomach and tosses it aside with human strength. He holds Damian as twilight fades to midnight, and the light is taken from electric, unnatural blue. 

Their families will find them, in the wee hours of the morning, and they will cry and scream and wail. 

It is of no avail, Fate and Death long run their course.

Before they leave, as Fate calls to her partner of eons, Death will raise their hand to their face and place something in the palm of the lover’s hands, an apology of sorts for two lives, two souls so perfect for each other, cut short.

None of their families will see the pearl, hidden in their intertwined hands. None but an Amazon. She will pluck the pearl from the pair and place it somewhere hidden, somewhere safe. Death does not cry for just anyone, after all.

[kingoftheburger]

Wait a minute, Bobby's middle name is Jeffrey...is he named after Boomhauer?? Boomhauer's first name is Jeffrey and Hank says that Boomhauer has known Peggy longer than Hank has, so it would make sense if both of them have a strong relationship with him they'd want to give his name to Bobby

[theheightofdishonor]

"one centimeter, one millimeter higher, one second faster' // "steal one second from him" <- they're going to be in an internal loop of just having the exact same thoughts and feelings as each other for the rest of their lives because they're goddamn soulmate mirror literally complete each other etc

[everyones-least-favorite-bard]

collector's item

[hacash]

but I don't fucking want kemi badenoch being all to spew her xenophobia and transphobia and racism and misogyny and general grossness as the tory leader thooooo

(she hacked harriet harman's website for fuck's sake! she bullies staff members! she talks about some cultures being more valid than others! she's not a nice person!)

I also don't fucking want to hear the entire right-wing of the party go 'oh you're being mean to a Black woman' every time anyone on the left (or the centre, or tbh anyone who's even vaguely sane) criticises her for her aforementioned horrible horrible views because let's be honest that's what they're going to fucking do

just make her go away please ugggggghhhhh

[appalachianapologies]

tagged by @rosieblogstuff to make a new post and drop the names of my WIPs, and because I also don't have a WIP folder (my folders are far more nuanced and I don't have the brain cells to do something that smart), this probably won't be all of them

I have a handful of relatively tame ones:

jack reads files

snips from juvie

tragic backstory™️

fuck it desi lore

mash or pass

and then just random words that somehow make sense in this brain of mine:

fight club except not at all and also people die

autism be damned my boy can COOK

this man is going to have problems!!!!

another wip don't fucking @ me

the long needed abandonment complex overhaul

I also don't know if I can tag enough people, especially people who have already been tagged before so if you're reading this, I'm tagging you in all ways but physical and you can absolutely say that I tagged you

[happy-lemon]

Delaney: Oh, hello. Hi. That's a great chair, isn't it? And a steal at only 15 simoleons.

Why're you selling my chair?

Delaney: I found it on my front porch, so I'm pretty sure that makes it mine.

Paid for it. Put it there. My chair.

Delaney: Why?

Needed a place to sit.

Delaney: Again, why?

This old house used to belong to my grandpa until he lost it playing cards. It's quiet here. Good for thinking.

Delaney: How long have you been visiting my front porch?

'Bout a year.

Delaney: And it never once occurred to you to clean it up?

Not my house. Not my problem.

Delaney: I see. Okay. Well, you're welcome to take my chair and go.

[Hesistates, then takes out his wallet.] All I have is a twenty.

Delaney: Oh, um...I don't have any change yet.

Keep the change. You're gonna need it. This place is a dump.

[lowcallyfruity]

HE DOESNT EVEN EAT THE BALLS HE JUST TAKES A SLIGHT NIBBLE. WHAT A FUCKING POSER

[lifenconcepts]

Was talking to someone off camera and I revert to Russian when fucking confused. Speech is as follows: “Hm. Yeah because satellites don’t burn out. And these just fly on, fly on, and “💥”. Mhm. Litterally no clue. Maybe it’s from fireworks, or something unusual. No because it’s going quite fast through the sky! actually don’t understand..”

[dniendos]

i truly wholeheartedly wish that the medical spaces and endogenic/natural/non trauma related spaces were like... easier to comprehend because lord it looks like we have to do even more fucking research after we did like months of research trying to figure out why we were living like this add to the fact that sources are becoming more found out than when we first researched and information is being found out and booming and just guh like with terms and stuff or language its just so confusing guys coming online and seeing it than just researching and living your life as in scrolling through the masses of blogs on research upon research about terms and history and just really wish this kinda thing didnt get soo out of hand that it spiraled this far

[1roentgen]

.

[aropride]

if the loud men come back do you think id get in trouble with the school if i told them to kill themselves