He’s made a deal with the devil. He knows that. He only meant to spare Richard a lingering death. They would have starved him, otherwise — surely it would be better to die quickly than live through that?
Except that, of the men who’ve come to kill Richard, Edward is the last one left alive. He’d…
My love for Badass!Richard knows no bounds :-)
I giggle so much every time I see this picture. ;)
I seem to end up posting it a lot idek.
Hang on, I don’t think I know that one! Post? FOR RESEARCH PURPOSES ONLY NATCH.
I couldn’t find a bigger picture of it, but I think this one is sufficient.
O M G
This is the one that was in my auntie’s 1930s Pageant of History book whereof I learned all my English history — think Sellar and Yeatman but Deadly Serious — except it was a black and white engraving so it didn’t have quite the Junk Focus
it’s also pretty funny that he’s wearing white silk and ermine in prison, but who cares about that? look at the Weirdly Illuminated* Royal Junk
*b/c what is the light source here? it’s not really illuminating anything else in its path—we must conclude therefore that the Royal Junk generates its own light.
Discomfortable cousin! know’st thou not
That when the searching eye of heaven is hid,
Behind the globe, that lights the lower world,
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen
In murders and in outrage, boldly here;
But when from under this terrestrial ball
He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines
And darts his light through every guilty hole,
Then murders, treasons and detested sins,
The cloak of night being pluck’d from off their backs,
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves?
So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,
Who all this while hath revell’d in the night
Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes,
Shall see us rising in our throne, the east,
His treasons will sit blushing in his face,
Not able to endure the sight of day,
But self-affrighted tremble at his sin.
RISING IN OUR THRONE
I AM FUCKING UNDONE
SEE? IT IS ALL RIGHT THERE IN THE TEXT
WE SHOULD COLLABORATE ON A SCHOLARLY ARTICLE.
and when the cloak of night is plucked off THERE IT IS. GLOWING.
And, you know, probably pulsing a bit.
Desire doubled is love and love doubled is madness.
John Anster Fitzgerald (British, 1819-1906)
Fairies in a Bird’s Nest, 1860. Legion of Honor Museum, San Francisco
John Anster Fitzgerald was a reclusive, self-taught artist. His fairy paintings create surreal, hallucinatory landscapes and characters. Some of his titles, such as The Pipe Dreamer, suggest a connection with opium. His last painting was for Alice in Wonderland in 1902.
I realized tonight that, thanks to ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore, for the next few days I have the best excuse ever: “Sorry, I didn’t have time to [whatever], I was busy having sex with my brother.”
house of cards au where everyone can hear frank’s narration to the camera but no one has the heart to tell him
I just GUFFAWED.
I don’t watch this show (yet?), but one of my absolute favorite things is when characters overhear other characters’ asides.