#wwi painted helmet
Text
hiiiii everyone im going to make you look at art <3 okay <3
first up we got two photos from august sander's people of the twentieth century, a decades long project he never finished aimed at identifying and organizing the "types" of people in early twentieth century germany. in photos for this project he usually identified people along socio-economic and geographic lines. on the left we have officer, world war i, cologne (1914) and on the right we have boxers, cologne (1928). museum had a bunch of sander on display and they paired it with the shortcut to the systematic life: superficial life (2002) by tsui kuang-yu, which is outside the scope of this post but super interesting so i encourage everyone to look it up lol
up next: the junkers officer (1934) by george grosz, another artist associated with neue sachlichkeit/new objectivity. im not well versed in german art but recently i have been so intrigued by leftist art of the weimar republic and it felt simply serendipitous. unfortunately by the time i saw this the museum was closing in 15 minutes so i had to rush out </3 SAD
this is air war (1944) by ralston crawford. first time i heard of this artist! during wwii he served as chief of the visual presentation unit of the weather division of the army air corps in washington dc and southeast asia.
negro soldier (1945) by robert smullyan sloan. sloan was drafted in 43 and illustrated army educational materials and posters for war bonds. the wall label says the title was given by the artist, which makes me think sloan didn't personally know this guy, which makes me very curious about the circumstances of its production. no name is given to the sitter, but he served in the european-african-middle eastern campaign in the army and was awarded a good conduct medal. sloan has a drawing at the met (station hospital [1943-44] ), but unfortunately i can't find much else about him online that might help contextualize this painting.
i think it pairs really well with this horace pippin from 1943 called mr. prejudice. pippin served in wwi with the harlem hellfighters, and the soldier at center might be a self portrait. he has a pretty good amount of paintings about the war actually -- i normally associate him with landscapes for some reason, though i think thats just because the pippin at my local art museum is a landscape lmao. his illustrated war journals are digitized at the archives of american art if you want to check it out!
up next are some pieces of interest that i want to share but about which i otherwise have little to say
L: untitled (military maneuvers at an abandoned mine) (1940-42) by harry gottlieb
R: italy goes to war (1941) by arthur dove
L: christ before pilate (1949) by david aronson. wall text wants us to note the soldier's helmet is german
R: the funeral (1949) by francisco dosamantes
ending with this delightful 1914 the wrestlers by henri gaudier-brzeska, whom the label quotes as saying, "i went to see the wrestlers -- God! i have seldom seen anything so lovely... they fought with amazing vivacity and spirit, turning in the air, falling back on their heads, and in a flash were up again on the other side, utterly incomprehensible." something about wrestling/boxing that make men gay as fuck. beautiful
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cherub
https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true
https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing
They were too late.
The massive series of warp rings broke apart in a rapid series of silent explosions, blue light flaring through the darkness one last time before going dun, fizzing out like a burst light bulb. Debris scattered on the all three axis of the third dimension, left right, up down, forward and back.
The Empyrean’s shields flared with golden light but did not break.
What was a little debris after the full heat of a blazing star.
Still, the Empyrean may have been fine, but that was about the only good news.
Below them, and a little to the left, the Andromeda trading hub, a once massive rotating space station, broke apart into thousands of chunks, big and little, like a crushed potato chip. Even from here the warning lights flaring inside the space station could be seen pulsating red. Many of the station’s interior doors had been locked tight, sealing off the sections that were still intact.
But plenty more pieces were compromised beyond repair.
Bodies mingled with debris around the station.
And what seemed to be a thousand void ships stratified their shields, many of them too small and too fast for the Empyrean to get a proper lock on. Several dozen smaller turrets fired from the sides base and peak of her hull intermittently shattering the smaller ships into brief explosions of fire, quickly snuffed by the surrounding vacuum.
But still The empyrean struggled to fight all of them, and in any case it could only contend with a few dozen of the smaller ships while others continued to reap destruction upon what remained of the trading station, falling slowly apart under the continual barrage of ordinance.
This violent tableau painted itself across the night in complete silence in contrast to the loud colors and powerful flashes of light.
The empyrean was holding up, but she was still only one ship and could do little against the swarm, breaking and whirling around her hull like a school of fish part around the sleek body of a shark. Sure a few of them went down, but the vast majority remained.
Other ships were on the way, but it was already too late for the station, and every second another surviving bit of the space hub was torn open or blown apart, scattering innocent bodies into the vacuum.
Some would likely die there suspended in nothingness.
There was only one option.
Deploy their own squadrons with their best pilot at the head.
Ramirez broke right with the empyrean, and Adam broke left from the open hanger, ship cutting through a brief opening in the empyrean’s shields as he passed into the night. Inside his helmet, his HUD lit up sharply displaying vector lines, and highlighting his enemies in red.
The Fealty combat system was eager to begin briefly appearing on screen as a small animated dog before vanishing.
They had work to do.
The old Darkfire hummed pleasantly under Adam’s hands, the joystick familiar beneath his fingers. Overhead, the 360 canopy gave him a unique view of the carnage being sewed around him. His mirrored visor kept out the worst of the light, shed from explosions. Cool air was continually fed up into the space inside his helmet, supplying him with a steady stream of oxygen while the cooling air helped him to avoid airsickness, a problem which he had never really had issue with.
He flicked the joystick, and his aircraft rolled sharply right, two times before he restabilized, the rapid spin brought him out of the line of fire. From there he rotated and dropped rapidly, locking onto his attacker, and blowing them out of the sky in quick succession.
In the long standing military tradition of earth since WWI, Adam had become a Flying Ace after five confirmed kills on enemy combatants during a dogfight. That status had been gained over the Gromm homeworld some time ago, and since then he could have become an ace several times over. In Adam’s own opinion that fact said nothing about the flying abilities of the men and women who came before him in Earth’s military history, but the simple fact that there was a higher emphasis on aerial combat these days, and more people to shoot.
These days the threshold in difficulty for becoming an ace hovered somewhere around the 50 kill mark. Even with all the opportunity to join aerial combat, rarely did anyone have the opportunity to make fifty confirmed aerial takedowns. Human militaries the GA over had coined the term
Superace.
Only a few men and women had since gained that title.
Adam oriented the darkfire vertical to his previous line of flight, and then rotated the back burners in the direction he had originally been flying.
When he fired up the burners, his ship shot backwards in the opposite direction, passing under his pursuer by a mere few feet. As he passed, he deployed a rapid burst of hornet missiles, which swarmed the other ship and tore it apart.
From there he rolled left and dived down as his own ship began. Someone had lock on him, and he wasn’t going to wait for them to use it.
He corkscrewed into a sharp dive, up or down or sideways it didn’t matter before pulling up sharply. The enemy combatant followed him with only relative difficulty.
This one had more talent than the others.
Orgave void light flared from its engines.
Adam rolled right and then arced in a large sweeping parabola down and to his left, passing under his pursuer. It was a good manuver, and it kept him out of weapons lock, but it also didn’t put him into a good attack position either. The other pilot seemed to be well aware of that fact, and their two ships were swept into a violent dance around what remained of the shattered space station.
A burst of orange energy shot over Adam’s right wing, singing the paint black.
Damn this one was good,
The pilot was probably human, no other way they would have the reflex to go toe to toe with Adam like this.
It was an interesting sensation. Adam had never fought another human before, and the experience was wholly unpleasant.
He tired to shake his pursuer, pulled out every trick in his proverbial book, but at the very last second whoever they were always seemed to manage to pull out before catastrophe.
Adam was the better pilot, but not by much.
Below him, the broken station took reprieve in their sudden bout of violence, untouched for the moment. They hadn’t intended to come here, had intended to go meet Kazna at the place where the stars matched Naktan’s vision, but all of that had gone to hell in a hand basket when the GA declared war on Arcadia.
The GA which was now run by the void under control of none other than the dark general Kazna herself.
The attacks had happened all at once, all at once all over the two galaxies as Adam and his crew had prepared for their final push to the finish. As the Arcadian star, Bob, fell under fire, so too did their allies.
An entire armada of previously unseen black void warships had appeared at Celex borders, The Jovian System Europa Colonies (JSEC) had gone under siege at almost the same time and several of eighty moons had been destroyed along with a thousand or more people who made the moons of jupiter their home. None of the Galilean moons had been destroyed but Amalthea had easily been the largest casualty . Europa had been locked down to secure the Hydroplants, while its military had mobilized from Ganymede’s surface.
Meanwhile an advance force had locked down Anin, unable to make it past the Drev field Nexus that guarded the planet, but effectively cutting them off from the rest of their allies.
So far, the interior of the Solar System had remained untouched.
Noctopolis had been taken rapidly, and the Terasaki homeworld was following close after.
Their entire alliance was at war.
Adam rolled onto his back rapidly considering his opinions. Briefly he considered trying to lose his pursuer among the debris, outfly him, but he worried what would happen if the other ship crashed into one of the surviving station pods.
He couldn’t risk it.
The other ship dropped low and pulled back, trying to lock onto him again, but Adam pulled into a sharp backward loop.
The other pilot saw hat he was doing and rotated his ship in place trying to keep Adam within his sights.
That not working, Adam began a slow spiral inwards and sped up.
Angular momentum.
If he wanted to keep it up he was going to have to spin in a tighter circle than Adam with higher G forces.
The other pilot gave up and broke out of the spin, but by that time Adam was behind him Another set of ships cut past, a void ship chasing one of the Empyrean’s own ships.
It was a Maker design, part of what had been included in the Empyrean’s equipment, its hull pearly white, its engines alive with golden energy. It made Adam’s old darkfire look like a scrap heap, but the pilot didn’t have nearly as much experience as Adam, or its pursuer.
Whoever was flying that ship wasn’t going to last long.
Adam had an idea.
Fealty tagged the friendly ship.
Callsign: Copycat
Adam cut to the side as her pursuer came back around intentionally allowing the other pilot to hook onto this tail as he keyed his mike, “Come in Copycat,”
“Cherub!”
Wow, he hadn’t heard that name in a long time.
You don’t give yourself a callsign, it's simply bad form. That name had been given to him back at the academy shortly after his first flight, Kimball had read his review from then Captain Palmer who said, “A man with a baby face who can fly like an angel.” Hence Cherub.
Adam didn’t keep his baby face for long, but the name stuck.
He hadn’t used it much since.
“Follow my lead copycat, and I’ll get you out of this.” he didn’t usually like to make promises, but this one he knew he could cash.
“Copy Cherub.”
Copycat was just holding on, but she managed to follow his orders circling in a wide arc upwards.
Adam had to time this just right or they were screwed.
He cut upwards as well, angling down sharply going fast.
Copycat was reaching the top of her arc.
“Turn down in three, two.”
“He’s Got lock on me!” She shouted.
“HOLD.” Adam snarled into his mic
She quivered in the air but did as told
Adam shot under her at high speeds just as she began plunging dowards. Her nose missed his tail by feet. Their pursuers were not so lucky, vanishing together in very brief fireball as they collided, shattering apart mid air as they both broke rolling to the sides to avoid flying bits of metal.
“Air fleet, this is the Empyrean, hostile forces are breaking, moving to surround the station.”
Ramirez’s voice crackled a bit over the comm but Adam moved to do as told, flying wingtip to wingtip with copycat joined shortly by Sidestep and Kermit.” as they moved to the station, rotating around what remained of one of their central trade hubs.
Adam’s heart sank a bit as he looked on at the carnage. A lot of people died here today.
But not only that.
The void was cutting off the trade supply.
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
I just watched a wwi helmet "restoration" where the guy just spray painted the helmet without removing the rust or stripping the old paint 😭
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay so I've been informed that this is super cool and should be shared so please behold my Great Grandfather's helmet from WWI (my OTHER great grandfather, not the one who was mustard gassed and had perminant laryngitis as a result)
This helmet was painted in 1918 by a French woman for my Great Grandad before he went into the trenches. It's an oil painting, and the woman who did it probably only charged about 50¢-$1, just as a way to make some money and as a way to send the men into battle with something beautiful and unique. The kicker is, my great Gramps caught Spanish Flu before he could actually see any action, and was sent home to either recover or die. He survived, but because of his short deployment the helmet and the painting done to it survived in near perfect condition too.
Whoever the woman was who painted the helmet was a master at her art, and not only is it incredibly detailed but she used the three dimensional surface to full effect, taking the brim of the helmet to make a horizon line for the sunset over the water. And she gave it texture and details that would make Bob Ross proud.
It's 103 years old this year :)
(and yes, the impasto (texture) of the painting feels EXACTLY like how you think it does lol)
27K notes
·
View notes
Photo
La Mitraileuse, Christopher Nevinson, 1915
Nevinson was a British ambulance driver on the Western Front. He painted La Mitraileuse (French for ‘The Machine Gun’) while on leave in 1915. He later commented on this work, saying, "To me the soldier going to be dominated by the machine ... I was the first man to express this feeling on canvas."
#world war one#machine gun#la mitraileuse#christopher nevinson#art#painting#1915#french#soldiers#adrian helmets#helmets#trench#western front#barbed wire#world war one blog#wwi#ww1#great war
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Reminders
Summary: in the middle of WWI, Arthur and Gilbert take a break
Word Count: 1419
Characters: England, Prussia
...............................
It was light when Arthur left the trench.
He’d found, over long years of watching people do things that they should not be doing, that the best way to get away with something undetected was to just do it openly. The more you tried to hide something, the more suspicious you became and the more likely you were to be caught. If Arthur wanted to go somewhere or do something unquestioned, the best way to do that was to act as if you should be doing it.
Gilbert was nearby. Arthur could feel him, that itch of another nation scratching at his mind and distracting him. France wasn’t Arthur’s land and so the sensation wasn’t as precise and specific, he could not intrinsically feel who it was that was nearby but Arthur knew nonetheless that it was another nation and he could work out who easily enough. Germany was too new, too awkward, and to approach Arthur’s lines like this wouldn’t be in his nature. The boy relied on humans to guide him too much, saw himself as one of them, or moulded by them, and he’d never be this daring.
In the aftermath of a shelling attack, pieces of his men scattered about the mud like flower petals, Arthur pushed his way through the panicked mess of survivors through the trench to the path that led to the entrance and then, just as it started to slope upwards, hefted himself over the side. There was a thicket of trees close by, white canopies of the medical tents glinting between the branches, but Arthur avoided them entirely. There was no help he could give that would make any difference; Arthur could spend hours patching up a soldier only for him to bleed out minutes later. No, Arthur was a better comfort for the dying, holding men in his arms in a shell hole in No Man’s Land and forcing himself to recall their name and age as they cried and begged him to take them home.
Twenty-two. Twenty-six. Nineteen, fifteen. Tom, Harry, Samuel, Jacob. Sussex, Essex, Yorkshire, Cornwall.
Home was England and Arthur was the closest to home they’d ever get again.
Following his feet and the tug that called them, Arthur walked for a few hours, the pop pop pop of guns growing faint behind him and to his left as he went, following the sun.
Gilbert was in an abandoned farmstead, sat tucked under a barn with his helmet by his feet. The whole front wall had been blown open; Gilbert had a few large splinters in his hands and he turned them over as Arthur approached, using one to scratch gouges into the other.
‘Hey.’
Arthur sighed and sat down beside him, ‘Morning.’ He dug about in his pockets for some cigarettes and pulled two out before handing one to Gilbert, ‘Still got your hair?’
‘Yeah,’ Gilbert rubbed at it and took the offered cigarette, ‘keep getting lice but I don’t want to shave it.’
‘Me neither,’ Arthur struck a match, enjoying the flash of warmth it gave his fingers before quickly lighting Gilbert’s cigarette where it dangled between his lips, ‘I think my head would be far too cold without hair, bloody lice or no.’
Gilbert huffed a laugh and sat back, ‘You’d also look like an egg.’ He took a deep drag before releasing a long breath of smoke up into the rafters, ‘Fuck. What a mess.’
Arthur made a noise. This was dangerous ground. Nations rarely instigated war themselves but they nearly always fought in them. Arthur was Arthur but he was also England and England was at war with Prussia, the line between his two selves, his two senses of identity blurring and twisting into something confusing and frustrating. It was easy to let things become personal, easy to paint Gilbert as nothing but ‘the enemy’ and strip all humanity from him, ‘It would be better if you stop shooting at me.’
‘Aw, you can tell I’m aiming for you? That’s so sweet.’
‘Well, you keep missing so it can’t be anyone competent. Must be you.’
‘Hah! Bullshit, if I miss a shot then I’m being kind.’
‘You call keeping me alive in this hell being kind?’ Arthur knew he’d let too much emotion slip, heard the words land heavy and pointed between them.
Gilbert shot him a look from the corner of his eye, rolling the cigarette between his fingers.
‘You owe me a drink.’ Arthur said after a time, finally unable to bear the awkward silence any longer.
‘Do I?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t think so.’
‘The night we went out in Amsterdam with Francis and Antonio, where you got your-‘
‘Fuck, okay okay, yeah jeez. Shit, you’re worse than Antonio, let it go already, tight arse.’
‘Hypocrite.’
‘Did I say I wasn’t?’ Gilbert scoffed. He took another drag of his cigarette and made a face, ‘These taste shit.’
‘They’re French.’
‘Damn, you’re really having a rough time of it.’
Arthur chuckled, ‘I’m glad you can finally see the depths of my despair.’
Gilbert looked down and away, prodding his helmet with the tip of one boot, ‘How is he?’
‘France?’
‘Yeah.’
Arthur sucked in a breath, ‘Sadly for me, he’s still alive.’
Gilbert smirked. He looked relieved, a slight lifting of his shoulders, ‘You don’t sound sad about that.’
‘I most certainly am. He won’t shut up; every time I see him.’ Arthur put on an exaggerated French accent, far stronger than anything Francis actually sounded like- France only kept a slight accent just to bother Arthur, ‘”Oh Angleterre, look, I am now as dirty as you usually are. Arthur dear, why do you insist on standing like that? You’re making me nervous just looking at you. Mon Cher, do you think that this is it for us? Come, let us sit in this dugout for three hours and debate the woes of existence.” Like that, on and fucking on.’
Gilbert cracked a laugh that turned into a cough, ‘Don’t make me laugh, my lungs are fucking corroded.’
‘Yes, your breath is rather toxic.’
‘Hey, it was from your gas attacks.’
Back on the war. It was foolish of Arthur to even try and avoid it, ‘I can’t stay long. I was only curious to see why you’d wandered out this far.’
Gilbert spat something bloody into the dirt, ‘How’d you know it was me?’
‘Matthew, Francis and Marie are miles away, the frog I watched leave happily myself. You’re the only one it could be.’
‘That boy of yours is a nightmare. He just won’t die.’There was a bitter twist to Gilbert’s mouth and he avoided looking at Arthur, staring at something far beyond the farm.
Arthur did not comment. To share the pride that he felt for Matthew’s achievements now, here in front of the one who had most recently felt the pain of his work, would do neither of them any good. Instead, he asked the question he'd really come out this far to ask, 'Why are you out here, Gil.'
Gilbert shook his head, eyes still fixed on something Arthur could not see, 'Couldn't be in there anymore. Needed to just-' he took a sharp breath in, 'remember who I was, for a second. That I'm more than whatever that shit is.'
He didn't move to indicate what he was talking about but Arthur understood immediately. 'That', the war, the trenches- what it turned them into.
The admission hit too close to home for comfort and Arthur stood, brushing dried dirt from his trousers, ‘I hope when we meet again it will be somewhere alcoholic.’
Gilbert said nothing for a moment, ‘I hope there’s enough of us left to meet.’ He looked up at Arthur, eyes glinting and sharp, ‘I meant that symbolically as well as physically.’
How much of himself was Arthur losing in his war? Half the time, he didn’t recognise himself- a washed out ghost propped by desperation and history alone. Who was Arthur anymore? Who was England? Centuries built on empire and silk, rich cloth, good food and money reduced once again to a frightened child, scrabbling about in the dirt.
To acknowledge such loss would be to accept it, to dwell on such lows would only make them harder to bear.
Arthur held out his hand and Gilbert took it, skin split and dry, ‘If there’s even one per cent of you left, I expect that drink.’
Gilbert gave a wolfish grin, ‘I’m gonna make you work for it.’
...............................
AN:
There’s no history or research behind this. It started out as a writing warm up and became an experiment of sorts.
As much as I love a grittier take on Hetalia, where the nations are heavily involved and invested in the actions their country takes in war and politics, I also like exploring this side: long living beings who are swept up in history as it happens, not allowed to give their own opinions on the matter and completely unable to prevent the turns it takes.
If they’re more separate from history in this way, I find it interesting to think about how that would affect them. People who might have been friends or lovers are suddenly thrown the roles of ‘enemy’ because of a war human have begun. Especially the first world war, the cluster fuck that it was, I imagine that the whole time many of the nations would have been extremely throw by the sudden changes in alliance alongside the utter barbarity of the war itself.
Thanks for reading!
#aph england#hws england#aph prussia#hws prussia#historical hetalia#arthur kirkland#gilbert beilschmidt#hetalia#aph#hws#my writing
134 notes
·
View notes
Text
All right so I bought the bulk of my Death Korps army back in the summer of 2020 but I’ve held off painting them in part because I wasn’t sure what kind of scheme I wanted to use
The elephant in the room with both the Death Korps and the Steel Legion is, of course, that if one has a mind to do so, it’s quite easy to model them after a certain objectively evil expansionist militarist and genocidal regime.
I knew vaguely that I would probably want to do some kind of WWI French theme, or possibly WWII French, but I was having a hard time committing to how that would work in practice. I’m going to tell you something that you might have concluded if you yourself have thought about European military uniforms, which is that Genocidal Regime’s uniforms actually look quite a lot like everyone else’s, and the things that mark it out as Genocidal Regime are more the technology, symbols, and helmet than tailoring.
Genocidal Regime vehicles have quite distinct and easily avoided colors so that’s not really been an issue.
However, once you remove fieldgear from the equation basically all major European armies have used almost identical uniforms and almost identical colors. Everyone has followed some blend of French or Prussian example, and by the time you get to 1914-1939 among the major powers it’s all some kind of tan, brown, or grey, and a lot of the individual look comes down to the field gear and the helmet.
All that’s to say, I was leaning towards some kind of French blue, horizon blue, Feldblau, etc., but feared it would look too much like the Death Korps colors you see all over forgeworld and felt maybe I should try to be more creative. But then if I did any other industrialized major power color -- green, brown, tan, or grey -- they’re just going to look like Genocidal Regime. I flirted for a little while trying to reach further back and go with a kind of U.S. Civil War Union scheme (dark blue coat, light blue trousers, and black field gear with brass accents) but I feel that would be too blue and if I’m being honest I don’t really care for blue that much in the first place. Sometimes I’ve tried to reach back to the Napoleonic Era but there’s a surprising amount of white which seems completely, almost perfectly inappropriate for the Death Korps perhaps above any other Imperium force.
So I think I’ll do some kind of field blue for the regular infantry, field blue with red trousers for cavalry (a la the Zouaves who weren’t cavalry but whatever), brown leather field gear /w brass accents, and, I really want to do the engineers / grenadiers in a feldgrau / camouflage on the model of a 1918 German stormtrooper, though I realize this is flirting with danger and kind of hope that the rest of the army would balance that out. Maybe not.
Though, I could give the cavalry white trousers instead of red, and then paint the elite infantry like Zouaves
See this is why I haven’t been painting the Death Korps, they’re so damn expensive I feel a lot of pressure to know exactly what I’m doing before I begin. Maybe the engineers could be like sturmtruppen and the grenadiers could be like Zouaves.
I suppose one thing I really haven’t considered is actually doing an 18th/19th century British thing and making them all Red
@#$% this is difficult
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Behind the Lines
Part 3 of Summer Peaky Bingo. This one’s a multi-chapter series.
Summary: Tommy and Alfie during WWI.
Chapter 1 Prompt: Fingertips smudged in ink.
Tags: Tommy/Alfie, angst, WWI AU, trauma, longing, implied violence, implied smut
Tommy spends a lot of time contemplating the hands of men during the war. He finds they tell him all he needs to know; how long a man has fought, how often they’ve spilled blood, the last time they’ve emerged from the trenches and into the real world. Windows into the souls of soldiers, someone more poetic might put it.
He finds it a welcome distraction when the walls around him seem too near. The tapping of Freddie’s fingers against his knee, the wringing of Danny’s around the grip of a shovel. His men’s hands are hard and callused, painted with clay and mud that renders one hand indiscernible from the next.
The Calvary men always have hands reminiscent of newly fallen snow; white and pristine, untarnished by the grit of the world around them. It’s only the reins they grip that give them any mar, rubbing roughly over their palms, forming calluses they bear with infuriating, misplaced pride. Tommy hates those hands and the men they belong to, wants to pull them from their steads and bury them deep into the bloodied earth.
His own hands are caked in thick layers of mud and blood, seeping deep into his hardened pores. In the rare moments there’s water to spare, he scrubs it over himself violently, attempting to wash clean, succeeding only in drawing his own blood to mix with that already stained there. If he’s to survive this war, these stains will never fade, he is sure.
It's Alfie’s hands, of course, that Tommy first notes when he meets him. They’re pressed firmly over a dingy map of the battlefield, large and splayed wide when Tommy enters to give his first briefing. He talks of their progress, of the yards, dug in depth and length, and discretely tracks Alfie’s fingers as they translate his words into scribbles on the map.
Alfie’s hands are like his own, stained brown and red from the drudges of war; somewhat surprising for a captain. They are different, too, the tips of his fingers dyed black from the ink he writes with. Around the dugout are emptied bottles of ink and countless sheets of paper, indiscernible in the flickering light of the lantern. Tommy imagines the thoughts that fill them, written musings that perfectly echo the ramblings of the man before him.
Soon after, it’s Alfie’s hands alone that fill Tommy’s mind. Deep in the tunnels when his men have faded into restless sleep, Tommy stays awake and ponders those hands. How many throats have they clenched around, mercilessly squeezing until the pulse beneath them quivers to a still? How many heads, helmets knocked aside, have they smashed into the mud, over and over? Do they shake like his own, after a kill?
When the war is all too much and he can bear to think of it no more, Tommy’s mind wanders towards more pleasant thoughts. What would Alfie’s hands feel like, wrapped rough and secure around his cock, urging him to completion? Would they pull him in close and press his head firmly into his neck, afterward? Draw gentle circles over his back until the stagnant air of the tunnels is but a distant nightmare?
In the darkest of all these dark hours, Tommy stares down at his arms, imagining the trail Alfie’s ink-stained fingers would imprint upon them, marking them as his own.
That Alfie is a man with few boundaries does not help this fixation. He shuffles about his dingy dugout throughout each briefing, carelessly nudging Tommy aside when he’s in his way, grabbing his waist to maneuver him backward, seizing his arm in excitement when he reports promising news from the tunnels. The touches linger long afterward, and when Tommy’s digging deep into the pits of hell it’s only the light their remembrance provides that keeps him sane.
—
It’s been a particularly harrowing stint underground when things change. Tommy emerges from the tunnels bathed in blood, his knife having found the jugular of one of the Germans that’d broken through the walls, spurting endless red over him until all life had faded from his eyes.
Upon emergence, Tommy wastes no time making his way through the trenches and into the dugout, where he knows he’ll find Alfie. When he stumbles exhausted over the threshold, Alfie catches him deftly in his arms.
“Christ, Tommy,” he says, alarm blowing his eyes wide. They’d dispensed with the wartime formalities long ago, and Tommy breaths out in return, with no intent, “Fuck, Alfie.”
Tommy straightens quickly, though, ignoring the warmth rushing through him at Alfie’s steadying hands. “Broke through the line,” he says and resists sinking to the ground beneath him.
Alfie swears and runs a solemn hand over his beard, leaving a smudge of ink painted onto his cheek just above.
It must be the trauma that makes Tommy do it; the horror-struck yells of Arthur and John as the blurred forms of their enemy burst through muddied walls, that purges him of all sense.
He reaches forward with no will of his own, brushing his thumb over the smudge, and stills his hand just there, cupping Alfie’s face.
Before he can register his action, snatch his hand away in shame, Alfie covers it with his own. It’s warm and rough and steady, just as Tommy has imagined. And then Alfie’s leaning forward and his mouth is on Tommy’s, hot and demanding, the blood still dripping from Tommy’s face pooling between their lips.
And Tommy is tumbling downwards, deep into a boundless hole, but instead of clay and stagnation, it’s lined with light and air. He grips Alfie to him in a fever, drinks him in as if it’s his last, and only breaks free when the ground beneath them quakes with the thunderous explosion of mortar.
After this, when Tommy’s back in the tunnels and the world seems too far away, he looks down at his arms, lit dimly by his lantern, and it’s only that the smudged tracks of ink are real and not just some figment of his imagination, that he’s able to breathe.
12 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Battle of Vittorio Veneto starts #OTD Oct 24 1918 until the Austro-Hungarian Empire is knocked out of #WWI Nov 4 1918. H. Charles McBarron paints this scene of Italian Bersaglieri and US 332nd Infantry Regiment soldiers training together on #ItalianFront.
Shown in the painting are U.S. Army and Italian Bersaglieri troops as they train in preparation for combat with the Austrians. The soldiers of the 332d Infantry Regiment are armed with the M1903 Springfield rifle and M1905 bayonet and are attired in the standard US Army uniform and equipment of the period. The Bersaglieri are wearing the standard 1909 grey green uniform with steel grey helmets and cockerel feathers and carrying a pistol and a M1891 6.5mm Mannlicher-Carcano rifle and bayonet at the ready.
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
1. Who is your favourite historical person?
Currently Bernadotte lmaooo
2. What is your country most famous for in history?
Majapahit thing.... and being colonized by europeans and japan of course
3. What is your country most infamous for in history?
Communists purge, colonizing East Timor and currently, West Papua.
4. Favourite historical era?
Islamic golden age 🙈
6. Favourite weapon?
Not into this, but I think keris is neat 😳
8. Military unit?
Naps' Grande Armée
9. Historical dressing, uniform, or costume?
Magnus Brahe's mourning attire
11. What is the last thing you have read, listened to, or spoken of with historical reference?
I've been enjoying listening to Krijn Ter Braak narrating WWI stuff 😳👉👈
13. Favourite historical film?
Lawrence of Arabia 😔😔😔😔✨
15. What pieces of art (i.e. paintings, sculpures, lithographies, etc.) related to history do you like the most?
I like reading poems tbh
16. Have you ever participated in reenactment? What it was like?
No....
17. Would you take part in reenactment? In what era and as whom?
No... I think I'm just not into it
18. [share some random historical trivia!]
CIA and KGB tried to blackmail Soekarno with a fake porn vid of him but Soekarno, being Soekarno, asked for free copies of it instead.
19. Why are you are interested in history?
I think it's neat
20. Were the history classes taught in an interesting way in your school, college, or university? What would you do to improve them if you were the teacher/lecturer?
Yes!!! If I were the teacher, I'll add more bad memes obviously
21. Do you own some historical item (e.g. coin, clothing, weapons, books, etc.) If yes, which one is your favourite?
I have my grandfather's first copy of Sarinah book... and it still use ye olde malay-indonesian.
22. What historical item would you like to own?
I want my 1919 house back lmao
23. Look at the clock and assume the numbers are forming a historical year (e.g. 17;58 would be 1758) What is the world like in that year? Are any significant events going to occur?
It's 2236 but I'll make it 1036. Idk what happend in 1036..?
24. What’s your favourite historical book?
Seven Pillars of Wisdom and Multatuli's Volledige Werken IX
25. Who, if anyone, is your historical crush?
.........no
26. What is your favourite history-based game?
AssCreed and Sid Meier's Civ!!!!
27. [random historical fact about the place you’re living in right now]
This place used to be called Batavia, and I once read a letter about a man who live here 80 years ago complaining abt how the climate makes him feel 60 years older which is mood.
28. What’s your favourite historical song or song containing historical references?
Uuuh Sabaton's Seven Pillar of Wisdom, I guess?
29. Who do you consider to be one of the most underrated historical figures?
I'll answer three (3): Bernadotte, Farquhar, Sjahrir.
30. Who is the most overrated historical figure, in your opinion?
Napoleon, Raffles, Soekarno.
31. Who do you think is a forgotten hero we should know about and admire?
Not a hero—and the man himself really don't want to be considered as one—he's aware that he's a colonizer: AJ Langeveldt van Hemert.
32. What’s your favourite historical “What if…” scenario?
- What if Wellington ever get to meet Napoleon face-to-face
- What if TE Lawrence wear a frickin helmet
- What if my country never get colonized
33. Do you have a favourite “dream team” of historical figures living at the same time in a specific era of history?
I think Victor Hugo and Multatuli would make a good friends...
34. Are there any great historical mysteries that you are interested in?
I'm genuinely curious over what actually happend in Soerabaja expedition 1875 as there's not much records or articles abt it.
6 notes
·
View notes
Photo
1/6 Scale United States Army 77th Infantry Division. I’ve been interested in exploring earlier uniforms and equipment setups ever since since starting to binge on Blueprint for Armageddon, and settled on an American trench raider. The uniform needed to be modified to resemble the pattern worn in WWI. An old GI Joe doughboy helmet made a good base that I painted and weathered in the late war style. The trench club was turned on a lathe, then stained, added nails and leather binding. The figure was heavily weathered and painted to look as muddy as possible. My favorite part of WWI uniforms are the puttees, really stylish and distinctive. Full Photo Gallery Link
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay, so an article just appeared in the ABC regarding an auctioneer selling Nazi shit at an auction, including ‘great pictures of Hitler.’ (His quote, not mine.) And when I clicked on it, I was like “okay, this is a bit dodgy, but let’s give this a read. Maybe he’s selling some stahlhelms or some old photographs, maybe it’s not as bad as it looks?”
(warning: Nazi imagery below the cut)
Yeah, nah. That’s... nah. He’s not just selling old helmets.
So, this picture specifically (don’t worry, there’s more), sets off just about every alarm bell there is. This is not simply Nazi paraphenalia, this is straight up SS stuff. The picture is of an SS- Obergruppenführer, which is the equivilant of a four-star general in the US Army. I did some digging to find out who it was, and he looks pretty similar to Theodor Eicke. If it is, it’s a picture of a man as utterly disgusting as the SS ever got; he was instrumental in developling the concentration camp system in the 1930s and commandered the Totenkopf Division (which was literally formed from spare camp guards and has a brutal record of war crimes on both Eastern and Western Fronts). The dagger is SS, and the inscription reads ‘my honour is called loyalty’, which was the motto of the SS. And while the skulls could just be generic SS stuff, the patches look similar to the insignia of the Totenkopf Division. So yeah, this is bona-fide, unquestionably Nazi stuff.
The seller also offers a framed watercolour image of Hitler, as well as some cap badges, belts, signs, pamphlets and what appears to be a sword. The article links to the auction pictures on Facebook, so I can share a few ‘choice’ items.
Why the fuck would you want this? It’s not even that good a painting! (I mean it’s better than what Hitler could do but still)
The colouring of the helmet leads me to think it’s an SS dress helmet from the 30s. I mean, if you absolutely must buy a stahlhelm, can you at least get a non SS one? (They had a lot in WWI and they look nicer anyway.)
Why would you buy this if not to put it up? And how the hell would you frame that? ‘It’s a historical artifact.’ THEN WHY ARE YOU HANGING IT UP IN YOUR LIVING ROOM YOU STRANGE MAN
It goes on like that, with Nazi objects weirdly stuck among Elvis statues and US flags without context. (There’s also some Japanese occupation money from Malaya, if you want mementos from the IJA’s brutalisation of that country.)
Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I’m sort of throwning stones in a glass house here. When I was younger and dumber I bought a Nazi war medal because I thought it had genuine historical value. (Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.) I can see why people believe that getting these things is just buying a piece of history. But it’s not - it’s making money off of a hideously appalling regime. If they must be displayed, it needs to be in context, in a museum.
So, as is natural, the Anti-Defamation Commission, which is a Jewish group against anti-semitism, advised that selling this stuff was inappropriate. The response is so utterly mindboggling I have to quote directly, because otherwise you’d never believe a rational human being could say it.
Warning: the following comment is so dumb, you brain may bleed out of your ears.
Our servicemen, our diggers, went over and fought and they actually liberated the Jewish people," he said.
"It's the Jewish people that are the ones up in arms about it but we actually liberated them, and then they brought back souvenirs to say, 'well we won the war'. And now when those people pass on, [the Jewish community] expect us to destroy history.
"As far as I'm concerned — and a lot of my buyers are concerned — that's just not on.
"I can understand it was a terrible Holocaust and that was bad, but our guys went over and fought for them and liberated them, so they need to respect that as well."
Wow.
Okay, I would like to respond to this with three points.
One - go fuck yourself.
Two - ‘Our diggers’ - meaning Australian troops - did not liberate the Jewish people. The last Australian division was withdrawn from fighting the Nazis at the end of 1942, when Australia’s war effort pivoted to fighting Japan in the Pacific. There were airmen still in Europe in 1945, but they were mostly attached to Bomber Command. The people that liberated the camps were British, American or Soviet troops. Further, as far as I’m aware, the Australian Army fought the SS exactly once, and given the circumstances (full-scale retreat from Greece) there wasn’t a lot of time to pick up souvenirs, so the idea that these are being sold by the families of old diggers to pay for funerary expenses, or that it is their history, is so utterly false it beggars belief.
Three - this is an incredibly paternalistic way to view the Jewish experience of WWII. Jews were not passive victims waiting for a passing Tommy or GI to bravely liberate them, they fought back. Just look at the Warsaw Ghetto uprising, the massive Jewish resistance movements in Poland and the USSR (which often met with indifference or hostility from Gentile resistance groups) or the Jewish-Germans who joined the British and American armies. And once the camps had been liberated, European Jews still faced anti-semitism from the Western Allies and the Soviets - Patton’s diaries, for example, are full of absolutely shocking anti-semitism, and it seems he had genuinely convinced himself that America had fought on the wrong side within months of the war’s end. The Jewish people don’t owe us a god damn thing.
And may I just say, it reflects really badly on yourself that your immediate response to being called out for selling Nazi paraphernalia is “THE JEWS” is decidedly concerning.
Oh, and souvernirs? Yeah, soldiers brought back Lugers. They brought back flags, helmets, badges, all manner of Nazi things. But that has context. This was something they could bring home as a trophy - as a monument to defeating the Nazis. Now, there’s a whole argument about the ethics of war trophies and military triumphalism, but it’s very different from just popping onto eBay and buying yourself your own Reinhard Heydrich Happy Funtime Playset or something.
This guy enrages me, as you can probably tell. He gives people with an interest in political and military history a bad name (although if I’m honest, so do about 60% of people with that interest.) He is a smug, flippant and arrogant man, who doesn’t give a damn about people’s feelings as long as he gets his blood money. This... ugh. Just ugh.
(And as a bonus, what his customer base probably looks like.)
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Local Tidewater VA Beer Festivals
UPCOMING BEER FESTS AND FESTIVAL FORECAST:
Sat, Sep 29 - Virginia Craft Beer & Wine Festival, 2 - 6:00 pm, Union Bank & Trust Pavilion, 16 Crawford Cir., Portsmouth. The Annual Portsmouth Pavilion Virginia Craft Beer and Wine Festival is back at The Pavilion on Saturday, September 29th! Enjoy unlimited samplings of Virginia's finest craft beers and wines, live music, and great eats. https://www1.ticketmaster.com/virginia-craft-beer-wine-festival-portsmouth-virginia-09-29-2018/event/
Sat, Sep 29 - Millers Bikes & Brews, 2 - 6:00 pm, Elizabeth River Trail, Norfolk. This casual bike ride along the Elizabeth River Trail stops at several breweries and features 5 tasting pours, live entertainment, swag bags, prizes and a scavenger hunt – all to benefit the Millers Foundation and raise money for local charities. Kids ride free; discounts for early birds and rider-only passes. Enjoy an after party at Smartmouth featuring Fretomology. Parking available at ODU Lot #1 or the MHI Lot at Boissevain and Orapax Avenues in Chelsea. Free handlebar bike bags filled with snacks courtesy of MIllers- one per paid participant. T-shirts available for purchase. Ride Marshals will help cyclists ride safely along the Elizabeth River Trail. All riders must obey all traffic laws and the Ride Marshals' instructions. Helmets encouraged and required for riders 14 and under per City law. https://www.eventbrite.com/e/bikes-and-brews-tickets-47527521095?aff=efbeventtix
Sat, Oct 6 - 5th Annual Chelsea West Fest, 12 - 6:00 pm, 600 Claremont Ave, Norfolk. Hosted by and benefiting Hope House Foundation, will be a full-day of celebrating what makes this region great: local crafters, talented local musicians, local beers and brews, and the unique eateries just steps away from the festival. Gates open at noon!
Sat-Sun, Oct 6-7 - Biplanes and Brews: Brewing passion for history, one flight at a time, Hosted by Pleasure House Brewing and Military Aviation Museum, 1341 Princess Anne Rd., Virginia Beach. Come join us for Biplanes and Brews, a unique event commemorating the centennial of the end of World War One. Aviation, history and handcraft beer connoisseurs come together to witness vintage aircraft in flight while experiencing the local tastes of Coastal Virginia breweries. Features fantastic WWI and WWII airshow, live music, beer tastings from Pleasure House Brewing, biplane rides and much more! Call 757.721.7767 for more information.
Sat-Sun, Oct 6-7 - Inaugural Shacktoberfest, 2 - 6:00 pm, The Shack, 712 Atlantic Avenue, Virginia Beach. The Shack presents our inaugural Shacktoberfest party! Join us and enjoy authentic German food and premium beer from local and national breweries. Live music by The Happy Dutchmen German polka band, Buckshot VB, Anthony Rosano and The Conqueroos, local DJs and more! General Admission $15; VIP $50 - includes a custom Shacktoberfest glass stein, 3 tokens for stein fills, 2 food vouchers, and TWO HOURS of early VIP access. The event starts at 2 pm for General Admission but 12 pm for VIP ticket holders! Tickets on sale NOW both online and at the Shack! https://www.showclix.com/event/shacktoberfest/tag/facebook
Sat, Oct 13 - 3rd Annual Craft Beer Bash at War Memorial Stadium, 12 - 5;00 pm, Hosted by Jungle Gym Strength and Conditioning, 1889 W Pembroke Ave., Hampton. It's our Third Annual Craft Beer Bash at War Memorial Stadium and this year will be better than ever. Located at War Memorial Stadium in Hampton VA, Jungle Gym Strength and Conditioning, LLC brings you an event full of charity, craft beer, great food, and lots of activities. Entertainment: Corn-hole Tournament; BucketBall; Giant Yard Pong; FrisBeer/Poleish Horseshoes; Inflatable TV Screen for College Football; Music - fiftyThirds; Vendors galore! Each person will get 20 free samples of our beer from our craft breweries. Buy extra samples at the front gate! Use 4 samples for a pint of your favorite beer! Purchase tickets here --> https://www.eventbrite.com/e/3rd-annual-craft-beer-bash-at-war-memorial-stadium-tickets-46725376860
Sat, Oct 13 - Historic Phoebus Fall Beer Festival, 10:00 am - 6:00 pm, Mellen St., Hampton. Sample craft beer from six Hampton breweries and cider from Sly Clyde Ciderworks. Admission to the Fall Beer Festival is $30 per person and includes 14 tasting tickets and a custom Phoebus 12.5oz glass. All tasting tickets must be purchased in person on the day of the event. Individual drinks may be purchased at $5 each. You must be 21+ to enjoy the Fall Beer Festival. www.phoebusvaevents.com
Sat, Oct 20 - City Center Fall Festival & Craft Beer & Wine Tasting, 11:00 am - 6:00 pm, City Center Farmers Market Oyster Point, 703 Mariner Row, Newport News. Join us at City Center at Oyster Point Annual Fall Festival to savor ample tastings of craft beer, hard cider, and wine. Limited amount of tasting tickets available. There will also be Food trucks, artisanal food vendors, local arts and crafts, vendors with seasonal fruits, produce, baked goods, plants and much more... Beyond food and drink, City Center Fall Festival will feature an abundance of fall fun! On the music front, we will feature Slapnation on the Market Stage 3 to 6pm, US106.1 - Astro DJ Dance Party 11am to 1pm with Emily, 1 to 3pm Astro DJ and Eric Worden with BOB FM on the main stage...contest, games, and dancing. WIN PRIZES EVERY HOUR! This family-friendly fall festival also offers an interactive kids zone with 100 free pumpkins for the first 100 kids to paint... as well as a bevy of beautiful products to peruse from local arts-and-crafts vendors.
Sat/Sun, Oct 20/21 - Virginia Beach Craft Beer Festival, 1 - 6:00 pm each day, 31st Street Park, Oceanfront, Virginia Beach. Over 50 craft beers from over 25 breweries will be available for sampling at the Virginia Beach Craft Beer Festival. Tickets include unlimited sampling, a commemorative cup, and live entertainment. Live music sets the stage at this perfect beach setting for tasting some of the best craft beers available. The 31st Street Park location provides convenient parking across the street at the municipal garage. A limited number of tickets will be available each day. It is not recommended that children attend this event. It is designed to be a 21+ festival. Performances include Dustin Furlow and Nate Sacks & the Lifehacks (Saturday) and Blackwater Jam and Woodwork (Sunday). Chairs and pets are not allowed into the gated venue. Proceeds support the Virginia Legends Walk.
Sat, Oct 27 - New Realm VA Oktoberfest, 12 - 6;00 pm, New Realm Brewing - VA, 1209 Craft Lane, Virginia Beach. Come join us for our first Oktoberfest opening party! Tickets will be on sale soon and will go fast! Live German music, German food trucks, German beers, lawn games and costume contest.
Drink Happy - Be Safe
Follow the blogs at:
www.brew-n-rock-tidewater.blogspot.com
or
www.guapo-t-w.tumblr.com
and follow the latest listings of local brew events on Facebook:
www.facebook.com/groups/hamptonroadsbeerforum/
2 notes
·
View notes
Photo
I recently finished this little brooch pin of a WWI aviator. I made a silicone mold of the face from an abandoned shepherd figurine that was left at my work, then cast it in resin, and then thought he would make a good aviator! So I built the helmet from epoxy putty, air brushed it, and then painted it with layers of acrysol glaze and acrylic to mimic Majolica or Staffordshire porcelain. Finished it up with some clear epoxy for the glasses. This was a project that just developed with a mind of its own. I’ve also been reading a lot of WWI fiction lately so that probably subconsciously inspired it, ha! As you can see, the back is MUCH uglier than the front. 😂 . . . . . . . #brooch #pin #handmadejewelry #sculpture #wwi #aviator #jewelrymaking #atlasepoxy #resinart #resinjewelry #mustache #britishaviator #wwiaviator #majolica #staffordshirepottery #artist #pin #fauxporcelain #retrojewelry https://instagr.am/p/CTSbxVRJrSz/
0 notes
Text
Five Signs You’re In Love With War Paint For Men | War Paint For Men
Five Signs You’re In Love With War Paint For Men | War Paint For Men – war paint for men
| Delightful to the blog, on this time I am going to demonstrate concerning keyword. And now, here is the primary photograph:
War Paint Makeup For Men Tinted Moisturiser Tutorial | MMUK Man – war paint for men | war paint for men
Think about graphic preceding? is in which wonderful???. if you feel and so, I’l l provide you with many image once more beneath:
So, if you desire to have these amazing images related to (Five Signs You’re In Love With War Paint For Men | War Paint For Men), press save icon to save the pics for your laptop. There’re prepared for download, if you want and want to have it, simply click save badge in the article, and it’ll be immediately saved in your laptop.} As a final point if you desire to secure unique and recent graphic related to (Five Signs You’re In Love With War Paint For Men | War Paint For Men), please follow us on google plus or bookmark the site, we attempt our best to provide daily up-date with all new and fresh photos. We do hope you like staying here. For some upgrades and latest information about (Five Signs You’re In Love With War Paint For Men | War Paint For Men) graphics, please kindly follow us on twitter, path, Instagram and google plus, or you mark this page on book mark area, We attempt to present you update regularly with fresh and new pics, enjoy your exploring, and find the best for you.
Here you are at our site, articleabove (Five Signs You’re In Love With War Paint For Men | War Paint For Men) published . At this time we are delighted to announce that we have found an awfullyinteresting contentto be pointed out, namely (Five Signs You’re In Love With War Paint For Men | War Paint For Men) Many individuals trying to find specifics of(Five Signs You’re In Love With War Paint For Men | War Paint For Men) and of course one of these is you, is not it?
Male beauty brand War Paint wants to overhaul stigma and .. | war paint for men
War Paint, a Makeup Brand for Men, Is Getting Dragged on Social .. | war paint for men
Danny Gray Interview: Monday Motivation | About Time Magazine – war paint for men | war paint for men
New makeup for men ‘War Paint’ launches to Twitter jabs – war paint for men | war paint for men
WWI US Prototype Combat Helmet – Model 8 – war paint for men | war paint for men
War Paint For Men: Restock Your War Paint Favourites | Milled – war paint for men | war paint for men
IMG_5162 Henri Dabadie. 1867-1949 Paris Le départ des Islandais dans la baie de Paimpol. The departure of the Icelanders in the bay of Paimpol | war paint for men
Why this men’s make-up brand is getting dragged for being .. | war paint for men
Makeup for Men Is Just Makeup, Don't Tell "War Paint" That .. | war paint for men
What is Tinted Moisturiser? | War Paint Descriptions – war paint for men | war paint for men
Let’s Talk about the brand WAR PAINT: MAKEUP FOR MEN and How NOT to Launch Makeup for Straight Men – war paint for men | war paint for men
War Paint by Leah Perry, via Behance | African tribal makeup .. | war paint for men
Twitter users are roasting War Paint, a make-up brand .. | war paint for men
‘War Paint’ makeup for men slammed as ‘fragile masculinity’ – war paint for men | war paint for men
from WordPress https://www.bleumultimedia.com/five-signs-youre-in-love-with-war-paint-for-men-war-paint-for-men/
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
april-albm
DQXぐらびあごっこ
to-loves-end
A Feudal Fairy Tale
cup-ah-jho
Espresso Yourself
steelblue8
Catbot!
schluesseldienstansbach-blog
Schlüsseldienst Ansbach