9 of the 15 “Black Paintings” that covered the walls of Goya’s home.

The Black Paintings (Spanish: Pinturas negras) is the name given to a group of fourteen paintings by Francisco Goya from the later years of his life, likely between 1819 and 1823. They portray intense, haunting themes, reflective of both his fear of insanity and his bleak outlook on humanity.

In 1819, at the age of 72, Goya moved into a two-story house outside Madrid that was called Quinta del Sordo (Deaf Man’s Villa). Although the house had been named after the previous owner, who was deaf, Goya too was nearly deaf at the time as a result of an illness he had suffered when he was 46. The paintings originally were painted as murals on the walls of the house, later being “hacked off the walls and attached to canvas.” Currently they are held in the Museo del Prado in Madrid.

After the Napoleonic Wars and the internal turmoil of the changing Spanish government, Goya developed an embittered attitude toward mankind. He had a first-hand and acute awareness of panic, terror, fear and hysteria. He had survived two near-fatal illnesses, and grew increasingly anxious and impatient in fear of relapse. The combination of these factors is thought to have led to his production of the fourteen works known collectively as the Black Paintings.

Using oil paints and working directly on the walls of his dining and sitting rooms, Goya created works with dark, disturbing themes. The paintings were not commissioned and were not meant to leave his home. It is likely that the artist never intended the works for public exhibition: “…these paintings are as close to being hermetically private as any that have ever been produced in the history of Western art.”

Goya did not give titles to the paintings, or if he did, he never revealed them. Most names used for them are designations employed by art historians.

I really hate how the films never wanted to linger too long on Snape’s Death Eater days. For example, the Snape’s Worst Memory scene never even showed Snape calling Lily a “filthy Mudblood”, and all his memories from Deathly Hallows never showed his turn towards Voldemort’s ideology. Those moments are dark, especially for someone you are trying to make your antihero, but they are so essential. Instead, the films just paint him as an embittered heartbroken victim, and Snape is much more morally grey.

ACOTAR vs TOG (Rant)

Ok so, I saw something today that kind of (and by kind of, I mean really) pissed me off? I get it. Ok it’s fun to think “What if Aelin was in Feyre’s place?” Or like “What if Rhysand met Rowan” (which actually I think Cassian meeting Aedion would be WAY more entertaining but whatevs). But when you start comparing the worth of ACOTAR with your basis for comparison being Aelin vs Feyre…We have a problem.

The post I saw was “If Aelin Was in ACOTAR”. And basically it just talked about how Aelin would f*ck sh*t up. Which yeah! She totally would! But this author was frustrated because Feyre didn’t do the same things as Aelin. But you know what?


A Court of Thorns and Roses is NOT Aelin’s story. And you know, Feyre probably would never have become as embittered as Aelin. She wouldn’t have “arrogance issues” and she probably wouldn’t have massively astounding trust issues either.

Aelin’s story is about trust. Is about learning that she is not alone. That she HAS that power. That she can use it for good. That she CAN be a queen and she CAN be loved. And that she has more love to give than she thought.

That is NOT Feyre’s story. Feyre’s story is about healing and for once in her gods given life enjoying herself. Recognizing her beauty. Adapting to a sudden change in her life and actually doing something more than just surviving.

Both of these characters are strong in their own ways. They have their own faults. They deal with their own trials. Do not compare them any more than you would compare how Audrey Hepburn would handle your life.

Would you do that? No. So don’t degrade Feyre or Aelin based on the actions of the other character.

That’s Christmas to Me

Merry Christmas everyone!

Okay, I’ve never done this before, but I found a Christmas Carol challenge posted by @buckysbackpackbuckle and I couldn’t pass it up.  

I’d like to thank both @10strawberryjam and @musichowler for their amazing encouragement, reading, editing, suggestions, and overall moral support while writing this beast.  You two are amazing.

Here is a link to That’s Christmas to Me, and here is Hallelujah (not technically a Christmas song but Pentatonix has it on their Christmas album so I decided to run with it).

Plot: Modern day/War AU - BuckyxReader

Bucky is an embittered wounded soldier recovering from a horrific loss during combat when an intern at the hospital walks into his life.  How long will he be able to hold her at arm’s length before she starts breaking down his walls without even trying?

Warnings: Swearing, brief depiction of war/injuries sustained in war/death, mention of guns, mentions of pain/IV medications, mentions of PTSD, briefly implied sex, enough fluff towards the end to rot your teeth out

There’s also a special guest featured that I sort of borrowed from DC.

Word count: A lot.  Geez, this was only supposed to be around 2.5k, but since I didn’t want it to be a multi-chapter piece it ends at 10.8K

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

what about susan who got married and had a child while in narnia, and then returned to england as a child, a whole life and family left behind?

That Susan? That Susan does not embitter herself, does not brick her heart off, does not doubt like it’s a lifeline– not yet. She yanks open the wardrobe’s doors as soon as she finds her balance, shoves through the fur coats and mothballs, and slams into the solid back of it. She shuts the wardrobe and opens it; locks it and unlocks it; throws all the coats on the floor; gets wood splinters under her fingernails from trying to get through the back of it. 

It is one things to lose a home, and it is another to lose a child. I don’t think she would ever stop looking. 

Her little girl couldn’t have been more than four or five. Did she have Lucy’s cheeks? Edmund’s wit? Peter had been her favorite aunt or uncle, because he had been so patient with her. He had been teaching her to read. 

Susan dredges up every arcane idea she’d ever heard whispered in Narnia, about its magic, about its origins, anything that might lead to a way back. She researches the wardrobe, its make, its history. She drags its purchase papers out of a sympathetic Professor Diggory, who has never had children and who does not understand, especially not with Susan’s present pubescent face glaring up at him. 

When they send her back to her parents, when the war ends, she kisses her mother on the cheek and then runs away from home, to go find the wardrobe manufacturers, to find supposed occultists in cheap little flats that smell of garlic, to bury herself in library stacks. 


And what about the child? Her mother, aunt, and uncles all gone on a single afternoon. Susan’s daughter was just learning to read, and now she is crowned princess heir. She has beaver nannies and centaur tutors, and she has stories about how beautiful her mother had been. 

The last thing she had seen of her mother had been her riding away through Cair Paravel’s gate, long dark braid whipping behind her. She is afraid of horses all her life, but she rides them anyway when she is old enough. It would not do for a queen to seem frightened. 

Her father is the sort of verybminor foreign royalty who had farmed his own little plot of land way out in the backcountry. They had needed to make an alliance, but for all Susan’s practicalities that was one place she remained– what was it exactly? Faithful. Childish. Stubborn. She wanted to marry for love, and she had. 

But Susan disappears, the queen and king and high king with her, and her husband gets pulled out of tending his private vegetable garden to be his only daughter’s regent. He tries to keep her separate but teach her what she needs to know, all at once, so Susan’s child grows up with that weight on her shoulders early. 

She does not know it, because the court artists always painted her mother smiling, but those stiff shoulders are one of the best connections she will ever have with her mother– Susan had been made the little mother too early, too, the one relied upon, who worried and herded and doubted because no one else was going to do it. Her child is a little queen, looking out and out over the acres of land and knowing what she owes this quiet piece of the world. 

She rules in peace and in war, neither Gentle or Valiant but instead Wise. Her name is spoken with love and praise, and she raises her own children to be just, to be valiant, to be gentle, to be magnificent. 


Susan has still not given up looking when her own horn calls her home to Narnia. It has been more than a year for her. It has been hundreds for her home. Cair Paravel might be overgrown, unrecognizable. It might be recently abandoned. It might still be thriving, vibrant, alive. 

But this is what matters: Susan walks up to a high green hill and all the old standing stones propped up on its ridge.

She finds her husband’s name and drops wild daisies on his grave. She finds her daughter’s grave. She traces the dates of her rule, of her life, and she drops down and weeps. 

They save Narnia, again, from invaders and war, and Aslan sends them back to England. 

When she forgets about Narnia, seventeen and widowed, seventeen and her child grown and buried and unknown and decomposed– when Susan forgets about Narnia it will be, more than ever, an act of self defense. 


Alternatively: Susan manages to shake news of the rings out of Professor Diggory. 

She and whichever of her siblings wants to most stumble back onto Narnian soil: Peter wouldn’t leave the two younger kids alone in England; Edmund loves Narnia as much as anyone, still feels like he’s repaying it debts that it’s already forgiven him for, but Lucy has been crying since she crashed back down on her skinny knees on the upstairs bedroom floor in the Professor’s old country house. So it’s Lucy and Susan who take the rings, then. They kiss their brothers, their co-monarchs, on their cheeks and they go.

The girls hike with younger, childish muscles to Cair Paravel, their limbs growing and strengthening in the Narnian air, remembering themselves. They will not reach their exact old heights, not for years, but they are home and that is enough to send them sprinting and dancing and crying as they travel old known paths. 

Susan is smaller and her child is older, closer to grown, but they slam into each other’s open arms as soon as they see each other in that royal courtyard– however close in size they get, her mother’s arms will always be the safest place she knows. 

Lucy and Susan retake their crowns. Susan curls up in the warmth of her husband’s arm, buries her face in his shoulder, and tries to inhale every year she missed. He gives them to her in stories at the breakfast table for years, in ecstatic descriptions of carrot crops missed out on and fields of grain unseen. Narnian agriculture has seen a boost in the years of his regency. 

There are years of Susan’s daughter’s life that she missed, and she grasps what she can of them in recollection and anecdote. She tells them about the desperation, much more amusing now, with which she searched for them. She and her daughter build something new between them, these two daughters of Eve. Lucy still gives the best piggy-back rides even when Susan’s daughter is almost of a height with her. 

Lucy and Susan reign well–valiant and gentle, blinding faith and practical doubt. When Susan’s daughter is old enough, Lucy and Susan forfeit her their crowns and stay on as advisers. They never hunt stag again, but even as an eighty year old Lucy hobbles her way down to Mrs. Beaver’s daughter’s little house for tea and to hold baby beavers in her wise old lap. 


When Peter and Edmund get yanked back into Narnia from a train stop, Susan’s old horn is not being blown by a Calormene named Caspian. 

Susan is buried on a high green hill, Lucy on one side and her husband and daughter on the other. Their granddaughters and grandsons are scattered over the hill, and Peter and Ed do not even know their names. 

The stones are worn by strong wind and long decades. They are overgrown with small white flowers. The boys will go up there, later, and they will cry like the earth is still dark and fresh over each of those graves. For them, it is. 

But Cair Paravel is not overgrown, destroyed, or forgotten. It is centuries older and Peter and Ed do not recognize the new additions, the court fashions, or even some of the words whispered by the gathered crowd. 

They do recognize the crinkled eyes on the young queen standing crowned and patient before them, a horn in her hands. She has Edmund’s best quirked grin, and they will learn she has Lucy’s talent at speech-making and Peter’s at tactics. They recognize her long dark hair. 


Inspired very much by @wanderingthroughwickford‘s post, I wanted to relay my own #scariestmoments from the games. These aren’t ranked as they represent different kinds of scariness to me and I find it difficult to place them in any order. Much like I couldn’t name my favourite horror movie, but I could probably name my favourite horror movie of a particular horror subgenre. This is just a small collection and I’d welcome any additions, contributions or contestings of scary moments!

CRY - The Skeleton Man

Starting off with a good-old fashioned jump scare, this moment at the very beginning of Legend of the Crystal Skull sees Nancy entering the Bolet mansion and see a man in a skeleton costume. In a flash of lightning, he seems to teleport across the room til his awful mask fills the screen. A combination of creepy art design and the eerie score (that kind of sounds like a rattlesnake) makes even I, an embittered horror veteran, jump every time.

LIE - Thanos Advances

I’m not overly fond of this game, as the record will show. But there’s something about the scene where Thanos advances on Nancy, who is trapped and has a limited amount of time to escape, that genuinely gives me panic. I think it’s because we know he’s dangerous, and in this scene he seems almost… animalistic? He’s not really talking, he’s just sort of coming for you. That is some scary shit.

DOG - Emily Goes Crazy

We all know how creepy the opening scene is - hearing the howls of the dogs outside as you cower inside a flimsy wooden cabin (with locks that don’t work, nonetheless) makes the heart race. But what I always found really creepy about this bit is Emily coming at you at the end of the game, apparently planning to BASH NANCY’S HEAD IN with what appears to be a human thigh bone??????? what the heck????? It’s the fact that Emily was apparently putting on a nice act the whole time that makes it extra creepy (thought I guess all Nancy Drew villains are, to an extent - but then again, not all villains seem willing to resort to cold-blooded murder or at the very least GBH)

SSH - Taylor Appears For the First Time

you can hear his footsteps coming up on you too. fuck this. fuck this so much.

DDI - The Tunnels

I always found the tunnels really creepy in this game. The music down there is extra melancholy, it’s dark and drab - and of course there’s the fact that these tunnels are being used by somebody unknown to creep around the town and rob people. They’ve got a pretty dark history as well - though the game doesn’t go to much into it, shanghai-ing was a real practice akin in many ways to human trafficking. Having such an organised tunnel system apparently built for its very purpose is rather chilling.

GTH - The Statue Turns its Head


I love that this scare in particular invokes the subtle “did I just see that?” moments of MHM. It’s also worth remembering that Nancy can see this before she goes into the house (i.e. before she’s exposed to the carbon monoxide) - what is it then? Nancy’s overactive imagination? Or really a ghost?


I think this might be the only time a Nancy Drew villain literally attempts to MURDER Nancy in a way that is LITERALLY also a trap in the goddamn SAW MOVIES

WAC - Paige Catches You

This is purely from the bitch-ass part of me that is afraid of getting into trouble from authority figures. Either way, sneaking around in WAC is pretty nerve-shredding.

WAC - The Ritual

More odd than anything else, this one… it’s creepy, and I guess the creepiest part is that (apart from a slight bit of blackmail for Mel and Izzy) it’s never really references before or after? A big lipped alligator moment, sort of? What is this?

MHM - “I See You”

Gonna side with everyone else on this - it’s the subtle moments of pants-shitting terror that really get you.


I think it’s TV Tropes that said something along the lines of this note looking like it’s actually screaming at you. I quite agree - whether it’s the all caps, or the shaky cursive, or the blood red ink - this note is freaky.

MHM - That One Noise

You know when you go back to Nancy’s room for like the first time on the first day and when you go back in there’s this electronic hell noise from the bowels of Satan himself? That still makes me flinch, every time. Godammit.

SHA - Dry Creek

It’s empty, the music is ominous, and you get locked in the jail by someone you don’t ever see? Yeesh.

SHA - “Here’s Shorty!”

The entire end sequence is fucking scary as shit. Being chased in video games is always my bugbear - as fun as it is, it always gets me. Being chased by someone as scary as Shorty is something else. He’s such a sinister person, and I genuinely have the shivers for him (like even seeing a picture of him on the tumblr.corn does it for me). When he sticks his head around the corner and says “heeeeere’s Shorty!”… fuck that. FUCK that. I’d take Jack Nicholson any day. Holy shit.


Ruth Ellis was a convicted murderer who targeted her lover, David Blakely (pictured together above), as a result of a jealous, embittered and violent relationship. While the pair of them lived together, and Blakely offered to marry Ellis, they each continued to see other people and the tension between them continued to grow.

This relationship ended when Ellis took a .38 calibre Smith & Wesson Victory model revolver (also pictured above) and decided to kill Blakely. She targeted him as he searched for the keys to his car. The first shot she fired missed, and caused Blakely to understandably flee. Ellis chased after him, and her following shots hit their target, with Blakely collapsing to the pavement as she continued to fire rounds into his back while she stood over him.

Ellis was immediately arrested for the crime by an off duty policeman, who confiscated the gun that, at this point, was still smoking. She was convicted of the murder of Blakely, and sentenced to death. She was executed by hanging on the 13th of July 1955. Her execution strengthened the public outcry against capital punishment, and the practice was eradicated 10 years later. Ellis was the last woman to be executed in the United Kingdom.

…The fear of spinsters and lesbians affected women teachers in Britain between the wars. A 1935 report in a newspaper of an educational conference expressed the threat in extreme terms: ‘The women who have the responsibility of teaching these girls are many of them themselves embittered, sexless or homosexual hoydens who try to mould the girls into their own pattern.

imo sometimes I think no one really likes anyone for who they are but are driven by the evolutionary ingrained human need 4 companionship as in u just need ppl around so u don’t get bored and because it’s written in2 ur dna that’s why ppl settle esp romantic relationshits, is that really love or desperation bc ur turning 36 and ur womb is about to dry up so u gotta squeeze kids out asap or rip.. also with rejection is it really missing someone or an ego wound as in u realize ur not as attractive or interesting as u previously assumed ? and no I’m not embittered and a middle aged ogre living in a swamp what makes u think tht

this is true, but oftentimes you will actually find that when talking to individuals themselves working for Disney, they can actually be pretty embittered with disney’s approach to movies (at least the cynical ones who’ve been in the industry for decades, which are my favourite type of prof)

there’s directors that people love or hate working with, the mandatory PG rating, and just a lot of industry restrictions. you can find quite a few ex-Disney or Pixar artists who will really differ from the Disney norm a or even get sizeably morbid in works when on their own

believe me Disney people are not always 100% pro Disney’s ways or whatever studio they work for, but you gotta shut up and do the job their way for income and promotions..

The Death on The 8th

Remember remember the 8th of November.  When Democracy died and America suffered.
How were we stumped by this terror Trump?

For now lady liberty cries as the child lies,Hopeless and cold next to the embittered old,
Oh remember remember, the 8th of November, when all was cast in dark,

for our anger is the tinder,

And this Tyrant is the spark

My Baby Ezekiel

So I finally watched the Curse of Cindy/Cyndi and let me tell you… I nearly started crying when Ezekiel was talking about himself. We all know I enjoy saying Ezekiel grew up poor, with a sick mother and nutcase uncle (I’m looking at you Emrys), but to actually hear it put the way he put it. I don’t know whether I’m emotional because I didn’t expect it, because I watched Sherlock and am nearly in tears from that, or because it was just so heart wrenching.

People mocked him so he became the best, he could have become a super villain, just like Dulaque, who was embittered with the past. 

He was lonely but he’s easy going, when he could have become like Jenkins, lonely and grouchy.

He had a hole in his heart but he never sought validation from people unless he honestly cared about their opinion, unlike Jake and Cassie, who need to be right, who need people to believe in them.

And that scene with him and Jenkins spreading stuff under his nose was adorable (fight me).

I have a few ideas about it though, that the first people to ‘save’ him weren’t the Librarians but MI6, they saved him, he loved them, and they left him (although maybe not out of choice), so he puts up his facade and gets on with it. Then he meets the Librarians, he doesn’t want to love them but he does.

Ezekiel Jones may put the Sin in sinnamon roll, but he’s also a precious cinnamon bun that must be protected.

(I also think that Jenkins is starting to get suspicious of Ezekiel’s immunity to magic. And now he’s just coming up with these really cop-out explanations for why he’s immune. He never wanted to be revealed as Galahad but it happened anyway so he won’t ruin someone else’s life.)  

The Plague Of Iscariot, Chapter 1

This fic is rated M for Mature

This fic is set in an alternate universe where vampires hide amongst humans.

Being a vampire sucked.
And no, that wasn’t a fun pun or silly little joke. Being a vampire literally sucked; especially if you’re turned at a young age.
Turned in 1884, Dipper Pines has walked amongst mortals for over 200 years as an awkward sixteen year old. Alone and embittered, he found no reason to get involved in human affairs, preferring a solitary existence.
Until now.