#fresko | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

christliche-kunstwerke · 4 months

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Kykkos Monastery Mural, Cyprus by Cypriot

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meisterdrucke · 6 months

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Beethovenfries by Gustav Klimt (1902, Fresko)

#Beethovenfries #beethoven #gustav klimt #inspired by klimt #fresco #fresko #gold #golden #wien #vienna #austria #painting #artwork #paint #artist #famous #fame #print #klimt

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picard-schreckensberger · 2 years

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Apollon mit Kithara

Fresko

Haus des Augustus, heute im Palatin Antiquarium in Rom, ca. 20 v. Chr.

#Apollon #agrenon #fresco #fresko #drawing #oracular #greek mythology #mythology #mythologie #architecture #chair design #chair #design

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harshr · 1 year

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youtube

Never thought I'd be so blown away by a Finnish disco/house record, but here we are. Malla's new record "Fresko" has been on steady rotation ever since I first stumbled across it a few weeks back.

#malla #fresko #moi #finland #house music #disco #synthpop #2023 #Youtube

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stardust-bridges · 2 months

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Club Furies Premiere: Fresko - Vamp [Illegal Alien LTD]

The Mexican sound art platform Illegal Alien Records presents its new release in ten-inch edition – a beautiful size to hold in your hands. It is the return of the Split series titled Horizons, this time by two powerful artists, Casual Treatment and Fresko. Fresko is an entity that has appeared and disappeared hundreds of times over indefinitely long periods, going back to wartime. Their sound…

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#club furies #Dark Techno #Electronic #Electronica #Fresko #Horizons #Illegal Alien LTD #Illegal Alien Records #Lisbon #Mexico #Portugal #Premiere #Split Series #techno #Vamp

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annafarai · 8 months

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#basilica di santa maria maggiore #fresko #googlepixelshot #italytravel #bergamo

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einsichtsweise · 8 months

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There is history hidden in between the cracks

#photography #original photography #old #history #fresko #religion #saints #this church has seen some things

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theodoreangelos · 11 months

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Detail of the ceiling fresco in the Hall of John the Baptist at the main building of the Austrian Academy of Sciences The Hall of John the Baptist was decorated around 1766/1767 with a ceiling fresco by Franz Anton Maulbertsch showing the baptism of Christ. Detail des Deckenfreskos im Johannessaal des Hauptgebäudes der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften Der Johannessaal wurde um 1766/1767 mit einem Deckenfresko von Franz Anton Maulbertsch ausgestattet, das die Taufe Christi zeigt. Деталь потолочной фрески в зале Иоанна Крестителя (Йоханнес-зал) в главном здании Австрийской академии наук. Зал Иоанна Крестителя был украшен около 1766/1767 года потолочной фреской работы Франца Антона Маульберча, изображающей крещение Христа. Détail de la fresque du plafond de la salle Jean-Baptiste dans le bâtiment principal de l'Académie autrichienne des sciences La salle de Jean-Baptiste a été décorée vers 1766/1767 avec une fresque de plafond de Franz Anton Maulbertsch représentant le baptême du Christ. Austrian Academy of Sciences, Dr. Ignaz Seipel-Platz 2, 1010 Vienna, Austria

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wulfums · 5 months

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i liked this oc a lot back in the day. no idea what ever happened to the creator

(belongs to rainbroach who hasnt been active in years)

#happy tree friends #fresko college cat #wulf art

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muhammaddahab · 2 years

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Golfplatzdesigner Gil Hansey und das Team von Bo Welling arbeiten gemeinsam an landwirtschaftlichen Feldern

Frisco, Texas – Wenn Ihnen der Kaffee im bald fertig gestellten Omni PGA Frisco Resort nicht genug morgendliche Energie gibt, werfen Sie natürlich einen Blick auf die Scorecard von Gil Hanse’s Fields Ranch East. Der weitläufige und atemberaubende Kurs – Teil eines 660 Hektar großen Komplexes, zu dem Hanse’s East Course, Beau Welling’s West Course und PGA für Amerikas beeindruckendes neues Zuhause…

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#Amerikanische pga #Jill Hansi #landwirtschaftliche Felder #pga .Meisterschaft #pga fresko #pga vom Hauptsitz von Amerika #s #Williger Liebhaber

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meisterdrucke · 2 months

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The Journey of the Magi to Bethlehem, the right hand wall of the chapel, c.1460 by Benozzo di Lese di Sandro Gozzoli (1460, Fresko)

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wulfhalls · 1 month

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Aegon ii Aemond and Helaena Targaryen - House of the Dragon // Zürcher Stadtheilige, Fresko aus dem Haus zum Königsstuhl // Jacaerys Lucerys and Joffrey Velaryon - House of the Dragon

#house of the dragon #hotdedit #art #comparatives #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #hotd #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen

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wisteriagoesvroom · 6 months

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promptfill for @clearlyclairesblog!

P.s. I don’t know if this is the direction you wanted, but here is what I ran with…

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Mercado lestappen Rated G for general audience vibes (and a bit of angst) Minor mentions of drinking 1.2k words (Also readable on ao3)

The supermarket is playing a mariachi cover of a radio song that Charles doesn’t know the name of, nor does he particularly care to. In the last year since he’s been to Central America he’s been racing in what the newspapers would call “beautifully”, “at a level that hasn’t been seen in over seven years” — and if the Twittersphere is also to be believed, “b for big slay”. But apparently it still, still! isn’t enough to beat the number one two nights ago at the Autódromo.

Charles swats away the thoughts. This is not time to dwell on the bad race. He is here to try and forget the bad race. He rubs his eyes and holds a bottle of what he thinks is tequila, the words abstract on the amber bottle. The lights are too bright in here, and the aisles too colourful. Driving on the track suits Charles because he can expend his energy hyper focused on what he needs to do, where he needs to go. It gives his anxiety a channel of relief, where high octane and being rabbit-quick serves a glorious purpose.

Here, in the real world, sometimes he is not so sure.

There are too many soda options that could go with the bottle that he's holding. (It behooves him, a son of Monaco, to at least have some kind of chaser. To keep this nominally classy, to make this self-pity show not entirely pathetic. Even Charles when sad has standards. Maybe grapefruit jarritos would make a good accompaniment for tequila and depression?)

Andrea would probably kill him, but whatever. There’s a reason Charles left the whole team at the hotel, wandered off with a cap and big hoodie in search of quiet time. Besides, abstinence from indulgence, in all its forms still hasn’t gotten Charles any further in the standings compared to last year. So he deserves a little boozy soda, non?

Of course, to add insult to injury, Max Verstappen’s face stares at him from a can of Red Bull. And of course Charles can’t help but laugh. Of all the endorsements in the world, of all the people to see now, it is the cause of his despair, Satan on hot wheels himself who deigns to make an appearance to haunt him in the Fresko.

That is what breaks him. It starts as a giggle, ends with his face buried in his hands, and Charles wonders what the world would make of him having un petit meltdown in the middle of a suburban supermarket.

“What the hell?”

The voice knocks him right off kilter. He would know that voice anywhere. No, it could not be.

But when Charles looks up, there he is. His rival, in the flesh. Equally in a cap and dark hoodie, holding a loaf of bread and a six-pack of Corona under one arm.

“Is that bread?” Charles says. He doesn’t know what to say, really. They do not share much off the track, him and Max. They live in the same city, but don’t cross paths. They are born sixteen days apart, but besides racing have almost nothing in common. They carted together for over a decade, fought in F1 together for almost another more and somehow Max has over quadruple the WCs and Charles has nothing to show for it except a couple of podiums, and maybe a lot of shame. (He tries not to think too much about the shame.)

Max, to his credit, doesn’t seem particularly ruffled about any of this. These days, Max has mellowed out, grown from defensive boy to assertive man, relaxed in his shoulders, laughs a little more easily. In contrast Charles finds himself trying not to sink into his car, to tell himself to smile more genuinely for the cameras that are now starting to feel more and more like a burden rather than anything fun, because years of expectation and being told you’re a winner, and for it to never be true, can gnaw at your self-esteem like that.

Slightly further down the aisle from him, Max tilts his head. “I was hungry.”

“That’s fair.”

“And thirsty.”

“Me too.”

Charles doesn’t miss the way Max’s eyes flick down to the shopping basket and back up.

“That bad, huh?”

That bad? Charles fumes to himself. Max doesn’t know what it’s like, he couldn’t possibly imagine what it’s like, to always be second, to aim for something and fight for it so hard, only for it to still fall out of reach—

“You raced really well.” Max says, factually. As if the sky were blue, as if the supermarket did not at all intellectually or spiritually affect his cognitive functions like it already has thrown Charles for a loop. Max pronounces his assessment as if it were an absolute, which is Max’s power, you see. To take destiny by it’s teeth and force it to heel.

“Evidently, what I did was not enough.” Charles says.

“You took every line that was needed.”

“I did.”

“Your tyre management has been the best I’ve ever seen it.”

“Thanks. But you were better.”

“Yes. I’m not going to apologise for that. You know well, how it is.”

Charles laughs, low, a little bitter. Yes, he does know well, how it is. “The rest of us are mice. Scrambling around the ankles of an elephant.”

Max, for his part, seems to chew on this. Shifting the bread a little higher in the crook of his elbow, eyes glancing but not really looking at the cans in the aisle. The music plays on for a few moments in the background, a cheery tune with lots of fast strumming. It’s a minor miracle that they’ve not been spotted, but this late at night, it seems the only person around is the disinterested cashier who is filing her nails at the checkout.

Somewhere in the distance the cashier coughs. Max taps the side of his thigh with his index finger, once, twice. Neither of them seems to know what to say.

Finally, Max yanks a Red Bull can off the shelf, closes the distance, and drops it right into Charles’s basket. This close, Charles can see the proud tilt of Max’s chin, the brown flecks in the other man’s eyes.

“A chaser.” Max says. Both of them aware of the double meaning. The drinks, their history.

Charles swallows. So fine, maybe it because it’s 2am, or maybe it’s the desperation. Here, face to face with Max, away from the cameras and the rest of the world, they can slow their strange dance, and Charles is able to say what he has really wanted to say. He wills it into his mind with more iron and fury than he truly feels.

“I will beat you one day, you know.”

His blood swims with it. He wills it to settle, to become familiar with the feeling, asserting himself in this way, speaking what he really means.

In turn, Max smiles. Genuine, this time, crinkling to the corner of his eyes. The rare ones he grants to the rest of the competitors on the couch after a good race, when he’s come off the track with fantastic pace. The one he has when he waves to his nephews.

Max doesn’t back off at all. He leans even closer. (Charles could count every lash. Tucks it away somewhere secret, somewhere with sharp edges that he can’t look too closely at, yet.)

“Absolutely, Charles.” Max says, all conspiratorial. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

#lestappen #fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #prompt fill #ficlet #drabble #f1 imagine #f1 fic #red bull... as a metaphor...for desire... i guess #lestappen fic #formula 1 rpf #formula 1 fanfic #3316 #i've been here for like two weeks and this is how far i've fallen into the hole #it's the first time i'm writing this pairing so like just pls excuse me if i get random details off idk #wisteriawritesstuff

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polkadotmotmot · 11 months

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Paul Kuntze - Fresko 13, 2023

#up

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christliche-kunstwerke · 3 months

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Cristo in Pieta, 1365-70 von Niccolo di Tommaso (1365, Fresko)

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dranna · 3 months

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Longing

AO3 / Commissions / Links /

Warnings: hurt, no comfort, emotional hurt, heartbreak

Summary: Heartbroken, longing, sad, confused, Crowley contemplating their relationship and what happened after Aziraphale left for heaven

Tags my beloveds: @giosnape (let me know if you would like to be tagged)

a/n: Inspired by : “We loved with a love that was more than love” - Edgar Allan Poe / Annabel-Lee

“We loved with a love that was more than love”

Or at least I thought we did,

No, you didn’t or am I wrong?

I was fooled by our dance?

As we slowly waltzed around,

Never getting too close to the Sun.

‘Crowley, You are going too fast for me!’

You said once,

A couple of years ago,

When Queen roamed with my thoughts

To End it all.

Was I rushing in our endless fantasy,

Or else have I sinned again?

That quiet and fragile existence we painted,

Was it all only in my head but not in your heart,

That Fresko of us I thought you loved.

I miss you, Aziraphale still.

No. I know I did and still do,

Yearning for the safety you bring,

Those calm evenings at the Ritz,

Your little hums and giddy remarks,

As you order your next sweet course.

Oh how much I miss you Aziraphale still!

First you refused,

But over time you started calling me a Friend,

Then it became something more on your lips.

I sneaked into your life,

And you broke into my mind.

Day by day I’m sinking deeper into this tormenting dream,

Replaying that scene,

When our lips met with an abrupt halt,

And you made it clear that I’m not enough.

It’s too late now. It always is.

I wasn’t enough as an Angel creating the Stars,

And I wasn’t ample as a Demon by your side.

I’ve been wondering if it really happened,

Or my cruel mind playing tricks.

Did our lips really collide,

After you refused my Being this time.

‘I forgive you.’

You spat those words of venom into my face,

After I laid the map of my heart,

Sparkling in your Holy Light.

There I stood naked,

Maybe the first time after my Fall,

And you poisoned me,

Tossed away my Whole.

And yet I can’t deny,

I miss you Aziraphale still.

And yet,

I would gladly choose this saccharine death,

As an internal visit in Hell,

So I can speak and see you again.

Do you think I never dreamed before?

Even though I’ve been dreaming nonstop since our Fall.

Feeling you again, skin on skin,

Hearing your voice and relaxing.

Sometimes I wake up from a week-long nap,

Wondering if any of this happened,

If you left or if we kissed or even if our existence still jointly exists.

Then Memories ran me over,

Torturing me until I’m a motionless pity.

I miss you, Aziraphale still.

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