#I stan the man

[molt3ngold]

[juiche]

I wanted to draw the winter soldier for years but never dared to, I thought I’d definitely mess it up. Late to the party as always, but I finally dared to do it 😊

This one is based on a photo that Sebastian Stan took by chance prior to the Civil War film, having no idea what’s about to come :> I thought it’s wonderfully angsty 😌💅

[artsymeeshee]

Stan a real one

[vader-anakin]

Are you having a staring contest?

THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER (2021)

[lilfriezatyrant]

Deer Man got me again and it is the same hype since years agooo 😩😩😩

@reptile--queen thank you so so so so much for watching and sharing this with me 🥺💜❤

[viveela]

A style comic I just had to get out of my system

[breadandblankets]

you, batfam blogger, do you know that duke thomas is his own hero and isn't just a prop that you can use to make your favorites look good

[elinordash]

Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy in PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (1995)

Can you tell me why Mr. Darcy keeps staring at me?

[ourselvers]

i got mistaken for a kid at a restaurant and was given an activity book with crayons 😭

i'm having the time of my life though

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

Horny artists are wrong about Makima in that from what I've seen, she dresses kind of like Columbo with that jacket and business clothes and THAT is what makes her hot. She's got the outfit and looming figure of a serial killer and the psyop of calling her thicc is legit confusing when you actually read the manga or watch the anime for the first time. Like you're drawing her in a "straight guy" sexy way with a big ass and tits in a skintight outfit when she's more drawn in a way plenty of lesbians would be thirsting over instead. The baggy clothes ADD to the hotness yk

[bubbarnes]

“your... your 'tt'? who is your 'tt'?”

[elivanto]

Vanto eyed him thoughtfully. “What about you, Commander? Why do you seek high rank?” It was a question many had asked over the years. Thrawn had asked it of himself. The answer never seemed to satisfy the questioner. “Because there are problems that must be solved. Some cannot be solved by anyone except me.” “I see.” [...] Vanto had now asked the question. He was no more satisfied than anyone who had come before him. Thrawn wondered if anyone would ever be satisfied. Or would ever truly understand. —Thrawn (2017) by Timothy Zahn

[vellichorom]

@satisfiedskye reintroducing me to THE OG fuckable old man

[sarcasticmudkip]

Listen it might already have been said but the thing that makes Knives Out and Glass Onion distinct and great compared to mysteries with Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot is that they are both very importantly not focused on the detective.

Benoit Blanc is an great character to be sure, but the journey is focused on the injustice towards the victim. The thing that drives the movie with the thirst and want for an answer is NOT in the pursuit of showing off how smart and intellectual our main detective is, but instead is driven with the pursuit of showing off the compassion and humanity of the main character WHICH is NOT just the detective, but also the victim.

The inherent cold, factual apathy that is present not only in many typical fictional detectives, but in the very nature of our obsession with crimes and mysteries--whether it be a TV show highlighting a detectives’ intellect by showing how little they care for emotions, or a documentary on the “insane brilliant psyche” of a real life serial killer. The FOCUS is always on the crime, on the murderer, on the unfeeling facts and sciences that “must always lead” to an eventual answer.

And that is why it is so refreshing when these movies subvert these tropes, not just on the surface level of telling you who the killer is midway through, or making a perfect crime look idiotic. No, it’s also that they change the very object of desire and that it is not just looking to see who the killer is, but to see who the victims are, and where the justice is. It’s about the victims and their pursuit of closure when the justice system fails them! It’s about the detective being a caring human being instead of a knowledge machine! It is about how there is more to the crime than just solving the crime! but also yeah the movies are good because benoit is gay with hugh grant that too

[musette22]

The evolution of Sebastian Stan in all black (2010-2023)

[ego-meliorem-esse]

July 13th, 1917

Be it from a sense of paternal concern or simply patriotic duty, Arthur made sure to leave his soldiers in the charge of an older Corporal and made his way to the quite pathetic excuse of a medical section where his son was left to rot.

Arthur had heard about the attack. He had been informed the day prior.

He had seen war and famine and sickness, but never like this. Arthur wasn't young, in any sense, and what wonders and strong political oppinions young men had, had left him a long time ago like a ship leaving the harbour in a hury to claim new land. This though, had left shock echoing within his tired, millenia old frame. He wasn't used to this.

Arthur made his way through the trenches with soldiers from every corner of the globe instantly stopping whatever they were doing prior and saluting him as if etiquette and rank mattered in hell. As if it was more importaint to greet the Higher ups than to survive long enough to even write a letter back to family. Arthur did understand that though. Routine and rules were the only thing keeping these poor and wretched souls from being consumed by thoughts of an imminent death.

The path to the section where Matthew was held was quite straightforward and quite familiar. He had marched to and from it hundreds of times and had a sort of automatic rithm in his step. Arthur made his way to the small and damp room with a fast pace indicative of familiarity, only to stop in his tracks in the shabbily built doorframe at the sight that awaited him in the corner.

Matthew sat in the corner of the sad makeshift medical section of the trenches, his back firm against the cold, damp wall.

His once-piercing blue-grey eyes were now clouded over with milky white cataracts, rendering him completely blind. The newly used gas had stolen his sight. His skin, once tanned and healthy, now bore the sickly pallor of a much older man who had endured unimaginable suffering.

Matthew's uniform, discarded in favour of his worn down undershirt, was now a tattered and stained relic of his time in the trenches. The not-white-anymore shirt clung to his emaciated frame as if decency still mattered in hell. The physical toll of the war was clear on his body. Not that Matthew would have to worry about seeing that any time soon. His hands, which had once held a rifle with resolve, now trembled even while resting on his thighs.

Despite his physical and emotional anguish, Matthew remained seated upright, his back pressed against the unforgiving, stained wall. A testament to his resilience if there was any left, a silent protest against the horrors that had taken his sight and left him broken in body and spirit.

As he sat there, his spirit reduced to a hollow shell, Matthew's face bore a mixed expression of utter defeat and complete indifference. His lips were drawn into a thin, lifeless line, and his cheeks were gaunt from the weight of his suffering. His blank, unseeing eyes stared into the abyss, as if waiting for answers and also hoping they'd never arrive.

In that moment, Matthew was not a representation of Canada; he was a young man who had been scarred and broken by the senseless brutality of war. The trenches around him buzzed with activity, but he remained isolated in his silent world of darkness and despair. The young medics job was done. He had patched Matthew up and left him to his own misery. Matthew was grateful.

Arthur stood there silently under the doorframe for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few seconds. A strange and unfamiliar twinge of emotion plucked and pulled on his conscience. He hadn't felt guilt in quite some time. This feeling was reserved for drunken nights spent in solitude with the doors to the room he resided in firmly locked so that his sliver of self-deprecating emotion wasn't witnessed by any but himself, while he drunk himself to unconsciousness.

He preferred the emotional solitude to this.

Arthur had believed himself to be capable of most things. Especially conversation and confrontation. He was quite good at those as centuries of existence had proved. He believed himself quite skilful with words. Most of the time he knew what to say and when to say it without it resulting in unwanted and unforeseen consequences, while still making sure his opinion was heard.

Arthur had no words forming as he stood in that doorframe. If Arthur was a good man, his reasoning would be that he felt such strong empathy and sadness that words wouldn't be enough to express the sorrow he felt at that moment. If Arthur was a good man he'd run to his son, assure him that this wouldn't happen ever again and that he was safe. If Arthur was a good man he would fall on his knees in front of his oldest son and beg for forgiveness.

Arthur wasn't a good man.

He could admit to his shortcomings, but to act on them was not in his nature.

So he stood there for another 5 or 6 minutes watching his son shallowly breathe in and out, hearing the boys lungs struggle to keep up with his muscles contraction and need for air.

He must have made a noise, as Matthew's head tilted slightly to the left, almost looking at Arthur but definitely not seeing him. Arthur looked back at him.

The room was quiet, save for the desperate plea of Matthews lungs to be put out of their misery.

Sensing nothing after a few moments, Matthew turned his head back towards the blank wall ahead.

Arthur silently turned his frame around and slowly started walking the path he had taken to get here. As he took a few steps, he released the breath he didn't know he was holding.

How he longed for that whiskey bottle and that dark room where he could lock himself in and slowly drift out of consciousness instead of facing his own mistakes.

Arthur definitely was not a good man.