Charlie as a Lawyer, he loves the gavel 🔨 #itsalwayssunnyinphiladelphia #charlie #birdlaw #familymatters #carlwinslow #comedy #funny #charlieday #charliekelly #mac #dennis
the cottagecore *system, the sorrowful system, the melancholic cottage system, the mourning flowerbed system, the gloomy garden system, the tearful system, the harvest system
the weeping gardener, the mourning farmer, the sad cottage dweller, the melancholic planter, the sorrowful woodsman
**one who lives a sad cottage life, one who mourns within ones cottage, one who weeps amongst ones gardens, one who copes with sadness through cottage life
book titles:
the sad little cottage, a melancholic villager, the weeping willows, the mourning garden, the sorrows of an old cottage, a pitiful harvest
many can be found by searching cottagecore genders/mogai/liom as well, there are many versions of cottagecore flags especially for lgbt related labels so they should not be hard to find if you feel like looking!
*system can be replaced with any alternative (ex. cluster, collective, hoard/horde, etc)
* thought i’d post this list that was sitting in my drafts; not all of them because i have too many but have some (if) ocs ♡
ORIGINAL / MISC VERSES
edith blake. original, the wayhaven chronicles, the exile verse ♡ she/any (queer). november 13th. fc: laura james. 5′11/181cm. ROs: cal, adam du mortain. connections: kiara kingston (sister).
freddie han. ear candy verse. ♡ he/him (m). february 14th. fc: christian yu. 5′9/174cm. ROs: shiloh rue, winslow montgomery. connections: ryuwon han (sister).
ryuwon han. straight red verse. ♡ she/her (f). nicknames: ryu. fc: kim do-yeon. 5′10/179cm. ROs: jude schofield. connections: freddie han (brother).
zoe beckett. original (modern gods verse), the wayhaven chronicles ♡ she/her (f). fc: misc. 6′/184cm. ROs: veera, nat sewell. connections: jada beckett-jones (cousin). tag.
kate hanna ♡ they/them (nb). august 23rd. full name: kateebah. stage name: arkane (prev: rickety kate). band: dance of the planets. genre(s): alt-rock, pop punk. fc: nour rizk. 6′2/187cm. ROs: seven lawless.
sung-won kang ♡ she/they (f). december 15th. nicknames: sunni, lucky. stage name: lady luck. band: WBM. genre(s): pop rap, R&B, hip-hop, EDM. fc: jeon so-yeon/kang min-ah. 5′7/169cm. ROs: griffin reign + victoria valentine, orion quinn.
I’m a sculptor/ceramicist/general artist turned theology grad student
I live with my partner, his little dog Winslow, and our 3 wonderful kitties- Pan, Thistle, and Bacchus
I mostly just reblog/post about things I enjoy. While I am a Certified Hater™️, I try to keep discourse posting to a minimum
My current biggest interests include: a song of ice and fire, house of the dragon, it’s always sunny in philadelphia, flight rising, dragon age, evangelion, dungeon meshi, the Roman Empire, chainsaw man, silent hill, puppets, Pokémon, gundam, religious studies, christianity, world mythology, and horror in general.
When it comes to christianity, I fundamentally believe being queer is a blessing from god and that all lgbtqia+ people are made in his image. Any bigotry in the name of Christ is not welcome here :)
I’m always open for commission inquiries! Feel free to message me with any ideas you have and we can work something out :)
Tags
#my art - all my artwork can be found here!
#ciarans dragons - my flight rising dragons :)
#fr dragon art - all my flight rising art lives here!
#pixel art - all pixel art goes here!
#my ocs - my original characters can all be found here
#the book of elisheva - a multimedia project inspired by apocryphal texts, Gnosticism, and christian mysticism
#moondragon - an original fantasy world building project of mine :)
#untitled creature collector - a fake video game project I’m working on with my partner <3
#asoiaf au - a needlessly complicated a song of ice and fire alternate universe project
#asoiaf fanart - all a song of ice and fire/game of thrones/house of the dragon fanart can be found here!
#angel art - any artwork featuring angels
#ceramics - all ceramic work (sculpture and non-sculpture)
Boygenius - “Anti-Curse”
Deer Tick - “Running from Love”
Skating Polly - “Singalong”
Portugal. The Man - “Ghost Town”
Ships to Roam - “Bones of the Earth”
Arctic Monkeys - “If You Were There, Beware”
Modest Mouse - “I Came as a Rat”
Manchester Orchestra - “The Alien”
Scrunchie - “Red Rover”
L.S. Dunes - “Permanent Rebellion”
Stuck - “Do Not Reply”
Taking Back Sunday - “Cute without the ‘E’ (Cut from the Team)”
Sunny Day Real Estate - “Roses in Water”
Lit - “No Big Thing”
Head Automatica - “At the Speed of a Yellow Bullet”
The Japanese House - “Over There”
Ben Folds - “Winslow Gardens”
Arlo Parks - “Puppy”
Kevin Morby - “A Random Act of Kindness”
Clairo - “Joanie”
Frightened Rabbit - “Roadless”
Joey Vann - “Can You Be Mine”
Ben Harper - “One More Change”
Lauren Early - “Twisted”
Alexandra Alden - “Helium”
Jenny Lewis - “Love Feel”
Koji - “Chasing a Ghost”
Elliott Wheeler - “Shiver”
xo
- b.
To download or stream the show, click here!
Betty Draper is the wife of handsome, charismatic yet troubled Don Draper, the protagonist of the TV series, Mad Men. Set in the 1960s, Betty Draper is thought of as the perfect, beautiful housewife.
Mary Winslow is my headcanon name for Jasmine Jolene. In this AU, she never took on an alias to join the world of performance. Instead, her husband, Avery Jones (OC), convinces her to settle down in surburbia and start a go at having a family. Turning her back on a wealthy suitor (Andrew Ryan), she agrees to marry Avery and give up her dreams of stardom in exchange for a life more like her own mother had. She seeks peace and happiness from this move. The opposite seems to occur.
This is only part one, if I even continue it, and it will most likely feature more characters. I had a nice emotional carthsis from writing this, as I focused on an area of life I’m struggling with and just ran with it. Share your thoughts, if you like. I just ask you to be kind about it. :)
Heads up: views expressed by characters are not always reflective of my personal views. I try to write in character, take what I interpret from their canon media as their POV. Just FYI.
“Oh, Betty!”
The tone was pitiful--- such sorrow, a dove crushed, desperate to seek flight to safety. She fell through the door, eyes twinkling with tears that were pure sadness, a drunkenness in her clumsy motions that were usually so graceful.
Her friend noticed it; her lips set hard, blue eyes icy. But there was a hint of genuine concern beneath it all. She didn’t block the other woman from entry, a hand that came up to support her before she stumbled into the umbrella stand.
“Mary, what on earth-? What’s happened?” Betty sputtered, bringing up her other hand to steady the woman. Tears rolled free, watery streaks of mascara that tarnished the usually pristine and perfect face, a face Betty had often envied with quiet resentment. A perverse enjoyment nestled within Betty at seeing her friend, Mary, like this. But it was cloaked underneath her concern, which she played up in her expression that studied the other openly.
“Oh, Betty... Oh, god... I---”
Mary, a beautiful, bubbly blonde with the demeanor of a doe, looked like a wounded creature, seeming to only be held up by the woman she came to visit. Betty was much like Mary, a beautiful, young blonde, and yet there was something icy underneath those eyes, something unsatisfied and angry. A crack in porcelain, as Mary often pondered to herself. Nothing in her had the strength to question her friend. She was so desperate for help that she would throw herself to anyone’s mercy for comfort. Betty was the first person she thought to seek out. Betty, who was beautiful, in control, with a perfect life and beautiful family. Betty would know what to do. Betty would help her.
“Mary, what’s the matter? Here, come into the living room. I’ll get you some coffee.”
Mary could’ve sobbed, knowing her friend realized she had been drinking. Mary was often so embarrassed when she wasn’t able to hide it and didn't try to make it apparent. She liked to think she had too much self respect, but she was such a mess that she had been drinking since the early morning. Had she even stopped from last night? She covered her face in shame. A pitiful, little noise left her throat, a whimper of agony.
Betty held Mary's arms, loosened her grip as she could tell the other woman wasn’t going to fall out on the floor. That was the last thing she needed. She guided the crying woman into the living room, a colorful, sunny room freshly redecorated. She was glad the kids weren’t home. What a mess, she bitterly thought. She was sure Don wouldn’t be coming home soon, either. She didn’t like how Don smiled at Mary. It made her furious, yet she tried to calm her mind as she focused again on Mary in her current, sorrowful state.
“Mary, what’s wrong?” She implored, a bite to her voice that she tried to play into a firm, motherly concern.
Mary peered back at Betty with pools of vulnerable pain. The last several days shot through her drunken mind like a bolt of lightning. The cheating, the lying, the fighting. Fresh tears pooled up in her eyes, falling free as she covered her face again.
“Oh, Betty... It’s.. Avery! God, he---!”
Already, Betty knew it had something to do with Mary’s husband. Mary was a flirt. Mary was too pretty and stupid for her own good. Of course she encouraged her husband into cheating on her. That had to be it! She felt a strange relief knowing it wasn’t just her....
“What, Mary? What did Avery do?” Betty felt like she was coaxing a child into admitting a problem. While there was a part of her that understood Mary, another didn’t like to be forced into taking on the woman’s issues like this. Betty had her own problems. Couldn’t Mary keep all this to herself like everyone else did? A sense of superiority came to her from this. Betty, the stronger woman. Betty, the one who could stay in control, or at least appear like she was.
“He- He...! God... He’s gone, Betty! He’s left me!” A burst of sobs left Mary as she folded over herself. The whole world felt like it was ending for Mary. Maybe it was the vodka of Avery’s she had chugged like water before walking over in the early morning, but she felt like she was falling, twisting, in a cold, empty void. Dizzy, detached, like a bird falling out of the air. “Betty! Oh, what do I do? He’s left me!”
Betty remembered Avery Jones, Mary’s husband. A failed musician with a hard, intense face and broad shoulders, eyes that shined like a torch. He had sandy blonde hair that complimented his red-toned skin, always wore button-ups with his sleeves rolled up. Betty knew, from Mary’s own confession, how resentful he was that he never made it as a trumpet player, forced into an office job to support Mary in their cute, well-kept, little home down the street from Betty and her own family.
Avery wasn’t as good-looking as Mary was, despite her plain name. Mary was as beautiful as Marilyn Monroe or Grace Kelly, which filled Betty with her cruel, cold envy. If Betty was Grace, then Mary was certainly Marilyn. Betty, who used to be a model, was no longer the lone, beautiful blonde on the block. Betty, who wanted desperately to recall her worth in her beauty, felt threatened by Mary, who seemed oblivious to her own looks. At least, she acted like she didn’t own a mirror. Childless, she was a threat to every family in the neighborhood, her giggles and sugary words for everyone’s husbands that made many of the women dislike her. But Betty stuck by her. Why? Well, it made her look quite saintly at least.
She summoned her voice up from her thoughts, “Oh, no. Mary, I’m so sorry.”
Of course, this brought fresh pelts of sobbing from Mary who stayed curled over like a wounded animal, seeking shelter within herself. Mary shook her messy, blonde-haired head, knowing full well that she must seem a fool, smudging her perfect makeup, her unbrushed curls frizzy and wild. Maybe she was crazy for doing it, coming here to talk to someone, anyone, looking like she did, acting like she did. A ruined idol, something beautiful crashing to the floor and breaking into a million pieces. All she could feel was pain and sorrow.
Through her sobbing, she choked, “What am I going to do? What do I do?!” The questions ricocheted all throughout her mind like shards of metal, wild debris tearing its way through. She felt Betty’s slender hand on her back, gentle as could be. This was what she wanted, something gentle after so long suffering the wild, angry behavior of her husband. She knew Betty was a sweet, put-together woman, someone she could rely on, someone she could lean on in this chaotic time of crisis. Mary responded to this touch, this comfort, by sitting up, revealing her tear-streaked, red face, splotchy and trailed black from her eyes, red smudged the shape of her trembling mouth.
She looked like a terror, Betty thought to herself as she went to offer a tissue. She almost wished she could take a picture to show the other women in the neighborhood. Francine would eat this up with a spoon. It was perverse, for sure, but Betty couldn’t help it. Mary looked unlike anything she’d seen before, a woman in ruins, and, after being the hot talk of the town since moving in, seeing her in this state was sickeningly pleasing. The word would get around, certainly. It might make Mary’s situation worse, but everyone would know soon enough. Especially if Avery didn’t come back, which Betty figured he wouldn’t. Mary had to know the way she acted would eventually drive him away. A woman doesn’t flirt and coo and simper at every man in the neighborhood and expect her husband not to catch wind. She almost felt bad for Avery, remembering the way Mary paraded around in those tight shirts and pencil skirts and those body-hugging dresses that left nothing at all to the imagination. During the summer, Mary was spotted in her front yard in a bikini even Mamie Van Doren would’ve felt was too much, sunbathing and pawing through some book. Betty wanted to say, “Of course he did. What did you expect?” But, instead, she offered,
“Poor Mary. What happened? Why did he leave?” Now pleased, her tone was softer and reassuring, but it was certainly artificial. If anything, it was more tinged with her genuine curiosity as to what precisely happened. She wanted to know the fine details. Maybe she could learn a thing or two…
Mary sniffled and wiped her eyes, head rolling from the liquor. She felt like this all could’ve been a dream. Maybe it was. Maybe, with desperate hope, Mary was still in bed and all this was some wild fancy weaved together in her head. It would be nice if she could wake up and all of this not be true, not be real. But it was. She knew this as she thought back over what had happened last night. Through the haze of her drunkenness, she remembered what happened, but she tried to keep herself composed long enough to spit the story out to Betty.
“Oh, he was so angry! It was horrible! He had been drinking, I could smell it on him, and he was so very angry…” She fought the want to sob, the emotion that welled up from that statement, fresh pain like a torn wound. “He.. he was yelling at me, calling me names… I won’t tell you what he said exactly, but it was terrible… He was threatening me. I thought he was going to hit me. He was waving his fist around, emphasizing each word like he wanted to hit me each time.” This time she couldn’t resist getting a little choked up at the memory, how terrified she had been, frozen in place until he got too close, then taking flight across the room, behind the sofa, against the wall. “He got angrier every time I got away from him, then he’d throw something, vases, records, my mother’s lamp…”
“That’s what I heard last night…” Betty uttered, looking away in recollection before affirming, “I thought it might’ve been some alley cats fighting.”
Mary shook her head, taking Betty’s hand while she dabbed at her eyes, lip quivering. This silently surprised Betty, but she didn’t pull away as Mary went on, “No, it was him. He was crashing everything like he wanted to bring the place down. I told him I would call the cops if he didn’t stop it!” Still, fresh as a wound, the horror replayed itself in her eyes, a heavy drunk swinging and swearing and shouting, threatening to kill her, to ring her neck until the eyes popped out of her head. Betty could almost see it herself, the tension that feels like it’s going to crush you, can’t breathe, heart flying like it wants to escape, when the hands touch you like you’d never believe it, like it never could’ve happened. His anger, his hands pushing you hard away. Feeling like you could throw up because he’s never looked like that before, looked at you like that before. Suddenly, everything changes. Happiness gets harder and harder to bring back. He’s different. Or, maybe he had always been that way.
A softening began to undo the icy defense, and Betty couldn’t help but squeeze the woman’s hand. She understood. She knew what it felt like. She knew.
“Oh, Betty…” Mary whimpered, returning the gesture and, with a bit of effort, turned her eyes elsewhere. It brought a great comfort to Mary to see the earnestness in Betty’s stare. She suspected Betty would understand her situation, as she wondered just how perfect everything truly was at home. Betty’s husband was rumored to be taking long hours at work, staying out of town, very rarely was he seen at home unless there was some event going on. Some thought it was truly just his work, but others had different ideas.
Both hands took Betty’s. Mary felt like her heart was breaking and would fall out of her chest. Part of her wished it could, so the agony of it all would be over. Betty’s hands were soft, small, with pretty, well-manicured nails like little pink pearls.There were a few moments where both women were one in their emotion; such wounds their men could leave and then, like nothing, run away. To be left alone, confused, hurt, afraid. Yes, it was like a weighted veil draped over them both, obscuring the world, inside and out, lost and isolated from everyone else. The secret they carried, the darkest parts to always lurk like devils inside. Keep them quiet and try to keep moving.
Betty blinked hard, frowning, cleared her throat and took her hands away. She stood up, a floating white thing in frills and lace and shiny, candy shoes. She looked like she had walked off the set of a fashion shoot, like the girls in Harper’s Bazaar. Mary wished she could achieve that fresh, wholesome, girl-next-door appearance like Betty did. Mary wondered if men hounded Betty the same way they did her. Did they look at Betty and see the cold goddess, the untouchable beauty? Were they more like followers, devotees, worshippers? She hoped so. Mary was used to wolves. Mary more often felt like something to be unwrapped and devoured.
Mary looked down, wiped her eyes of tears, wanting all of this to be over. Betty lingered only a fraction of a second before she headed for the bright, little kitchen with a murmur of, “Let me get you some coffee…”
😎 January at the Crown, Baltimore! Lots of fire line ups~ from KAONASHI x Pink Shift, Small, Godseyes, Gorod, Izzy Vadim, Oliverse, Journey Montana and many more!
Winslow Homer “Old Mill (The Morning Bell)” 1871 Oil on canvas Photo is taken by: @robertpuffjr Homer's talent for creating ambiguity and tension in seemingly sunny narratives is on display here. This is one among many 1870s images by the artist that explore transformational social change in the post-Civil War era- in this case, the expanding role of White working-class women in the wage economy. At its fulcrum is a sunlit figure, lunch pail in hand, ascending a makeshift structure that leads to a mill, as a bell atop the roof sounds to signal the beginning of the workday. She may be new to economic necessity; her finer dress and pronounced separation from the other women in homespun evokes a tension between urban and rural communities in a rapidly industrializing nation. (This writeup is taken from the description at the museum.) Yale University Art Gallery, New Haven, USA #historyofart #arthistory #greatworksofart #artmuseum #art #artist #masterpiece #painting #museumvisit #artlover #artists #artblogger #winslowhomer #homer #winslow (at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/Clp9D1kLPa7/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
I chose to write by poem based on Snap the Whip by Winslow Homer. I chose this painting because it looked fun and there were enough details that I thought I could elaborate on with my poem. The details I can see are green grass, flowers, sunny skies, the boys not wearing shoes, and their family watching from the background. There is also a red barn, but I did not include this in my poem because I did not feel the detail would build the story any more than it was. I tried to capture the mood of lightheartedness and fun with words like "tickles," "dance," and "laugh." At the end of my poem, I attempted to describe the feeling of sorrow at two boys falling in the game. I then brought it back to being lighthearted by saying the game will continue.
I've been everywhere." The easy, fast & fun way to learn how to sing: 30DaySinger. Sioux City, Cedar City, Dodge City, what a pity Larrimore, Atmore, Haverstraw, Chattanika,īaraboo, Waterloo, Kalamazoo, Kansas City, Pittsburgh, Parkersburg, Gravellburg, Colorado,Įllensburg, Rexburg, Vicksburg, Eldorado, Pasadena, Catalina, see what I mean, sir Hackensack, Cadillac, Fond do Lac, Davenport, Pittsfield, Springfield, Bakersfield, Shreveport, Shefferville, Jacksonville, Waterville, Costa Rica, Louisville, Nashville, Knoxville, Ombabika, Grand Lake, Devil's Lake, Crater Lake, for Pete's sake Tennessee, Hennessey, Chicopee, Spirit Lake, Glen Rock, Black Rock, Little Rock, Oskaloosa, Washington, Houston, Kingston, Texarkana, Tocopilla, Barranquilla, and Padilla, I'm a killer. The easy, fast & fun way to learn how to sing: I was totin' my pack Original singer Lucky Starr released an EP called "Lucky's Been Everywhere", which contained four different versions: United Kingdom, United States, New Zealand, and Australia. Harvey Reid also included the song in his Dreamer or Believer album.
I VE BEEN EVERYWHERE LYRICS SERIES
The song was also recorded by Lynn Anderson (US 1970), Asleep at the Wheel (US 1973), Johnny Cash (US 1996), Ted Egan, the "Farrelly Brothers" from the television series The Aunty Jack Show (Australia 1974, a parody version, on the album Aunty Jack Sings Wollongong), John Grenell (NZ 1966), Mike Ford (Canada, 2005), The Sunny Cowgirls and the Statler Brothers. In 1962, the song was a number-one US country hit for Hank Snow. It was later adapted by Australian singer Rolf Harris with English and Scottish toponyms (1963), and by John Hore (later known as John Grenell) with New Zealand toponyms (1966). The song as originally written listed Australian towns. Copy I've Been Everywhere lyrics and chords so you can practice, practice and practice some more."I've Been Everywhere" is a song which was written by Australian country singer Geoff Mack in 1959, and made popular by Lucky Starr in 1962. Been to Reno, Chicago, Fargo, Minnesota, Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota, Wichita, Tulsa, Ottawa, Oklahoma, Tampa, Panama, Mattawa, La. I've never heardĪnyone get close to his performance with this song. You can sing fast you'll surely love this quick tune, Hank was able toĬlearly rattle off the names of places he's been.
I VE BEEN EVERYWHERE LYRICS SOFTWARE
This software was developed by John Logue.Ĭlassic Country Music Lyrics home | Hank Snow Lyrics Or a similar word processor, then recopy and paste to key changer. If the lyrics are in a long line, first paste to Microsoft Word Key changer, select the key you want, then click the button "Click Sioux City Cedar City Dodge City what a pityįor the easiest way possible. Pittsburgh Parkersburg Gravellburg Colorado Hackensack Cadillac Fond Du Lac Davenport Pittsfield Springfield Bakersfield Shreveport Shefferville Jacksonville Waterville Costa Rica Grand Lake Devil's Lake Crater Lake for Pete's sake Glen Rock Black Rock Little Rock Oskaloosa Tocopilla Barranquilla and Padilla I'm a killer Ĭountry Gospel MP3s most only $.99 or less. Quick search of Classic Country Music lyrics website.Ĭountry Music Cds and Country Gospel Cds. Type in an artist's name or song title in the space above for a Hank Snow country lyrics with chords areĪvailable on this site along with many other classic country artists.īrowse our complete list of older lyrics, you're bound to find some of TheĬhords provided are my interpretation and their accuracy is notīeen Everywhere is an upbeat song to say the least, I've never heardĪnyone with a quicker tongue. Intended solely for educational purposes and private study only. I've Been Everywhere lyrics and all other country classic song lyricsĪre the property of the respective artist, authors and labels, they are