#unmad

[zegalba]

Malia Jensen: Unmade Bed (2010) hand-carved from a bar of soap

[huariqueje]

The Bed   -   Ruprecht von Kaufmann , 2023.

German, b. 1974 -

Oil on linoleum on wood , 40 x 30 cm. 15.7 x 11.8 in.

[julykings]

unmade bed no. 28

[rad-roche]

It's Valentine's day! You there, browsing the tag. Have you ever thought 'I like Nick Valentine, but I wish he starred in two novels lovingly written in the prose style of a detective noir from 1943, and so help me God, I don't want to pay a cent for it?' No! Nobody has! What an unusually specific dream!

But it's too late, I've already written them.

More than that, I've filled them with art, too.

If this sounds like something you'd like, you can find the full series (the two books and two small side stories) here.

[riphertoshreds]

Debbie Harry on the set of the film Unmade Beds, by photographer Fernando Natalici.

[orangetintedglasses]

@forgivenpunishment replied to your post “He's looking a bit distracted today... and a bit...”:

"Hey, I've been lookin' all over for you... you didn't say anything when you left. Wasn't sure if you were pullin' a fast one on me." Wolfwood puts a hand on Vash's shoulder and shakes him playfully. He doesn't figure that Vash will run away from him again, but the distant way he's been acting is odd, to say the least.

"Ah...!"

The contact ripped through him like a shockwave, and it took every synapse in his brain to keep from crying out (in pain? In surprise? Something else?). Crap, r-right, he... should've said something, went back and said... but he hadn't been thinking...

The blond made himself perk up all the same, though, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped and surged now that Wolfwood was close-- "s-sorry! Sorry-- n-no, just needed some air, and... kind of wandered off."

[golyadkin]

Last night was scary

[thunderstruck9]

Bruce Cohen (American, 1953), Unmade Bed, 1985. Oil on canvas, 40 1⁄4 x 66 1⁄4 in.

[samdeancrimespree]

very small detail in mystery spot… but the very first tuesday sam goes to brush his teeth and there’s toothpaste like all over the tube and it’s mostly empty. and he looks at dean like “seriously?” and dean shrugs. then after dean dies, during the montage of sam living alone on his revenge mission, there’s a shot of him brushing his teeth and the toothpaste tube is clean. the trunk is organized, the photos on the wall are lined up, the guns are spotless, the bed is made. the toothpaste tube is clean. dean was always the one who made the motel room a home, made it messy, made it lived in. there’s no mess. there’s no dean. sam doesn’t know how to do that. he’s never needed to. maybe never even noticed that’s what dean was doing; he was too busy complaining about his dirty clothes being everywhere.

it is so extremely codependent how sam’s ocd behaviours spike when dean is gone. like dean is his emotional support animal. “we keep each other human” in a very non-supernatural way. sam can only function on a normal level if he knows dean is ok. no one and nothing can drag sam out of that spiral other than dean, because there’s no reason to get out of the spiral if dean isn’t there. sam calls dean selfish for making the deal not because sam wouldn’t do the same thing, but because the prospect of living without dean is hell to him.

[huariqueje]

Hotel - Nick Bierck , 2023.

Canadian , b. 1986 -

Oil on canvas, 15 x 11.25 in.

[julykings]

unmade bed no. 30

[ruushes]

Clive????? 😭😭😭

[official-lucifers-child]

hey shoutout to gross ppl. society fuckin hates us and we’re alienated in our own communities for not living up to other ppl’s standards of acceptability but we persist!! love my fellow gross ppl <3

[sky-ham]

TW: mutilation, needles

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.

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"Sabine, she's going into shock-" "It's been in her bloodstream for more than an hour. The substance must be neutralized before the wound is closed. Hold her down, Hazal, or she'll lose more than just her arm."

[orangetintedglasses]

@forgivenpunishment // one taser might not do it, but what about...?

Holding off a wave of people was no small effort.

Keeping an army off the back of another person while throwing yourself in harm's way, regardless of your strength, was something noble. Something that deserved praise, recognition; the undertaker's efforts would not go unnoticed.

... unfortunately for him, though, it wasn't Vash that they wanted. It wasn't Vash that would be swarmed by fully-amped stun batons and tasers and more bodies trickling in, crowding the hall to prevent escape, or even basic movement that might've allowed him to get the upper hand as some old, croaking voice shrieked don't kill him! We need him alive, he's useless to us dead...!

That had been nearly an hour ago, now, though. Trivial. Shouts and crackles of electricity had been replaced by the din of machines; the hum of glaringly bright surgical lights; the slow, steady blip of a heart monitor keeping track of vitals as six men bustled around the surgical table that they'd strapped him to. They'd cut him out of his clothes to save time, as well; naked save for the various nodes and monitors they'd fastened to him, and a clean, white sheet over his hips that went down to mid-thigh.

Was that sparing his dignity, or theirs? It didn't really matter, did it. No, no, what mattered now was how the subject was feeling whenever he came to again--

[highladyjane]

- Unknown

“The lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and Dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two."