Andulka
The Bowery Presents
occasionally subtle
Color Me Curious
titsay
$LAYYYTER
Cosimo Galluzzi
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
No title available
🪼
EXPECTATIONS
bliss lane
Xuebing Du
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
noise dept.
sheepfilms
The Stonewall Inn
No title available
Noah Kahan
oozey mess
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Colombia
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia
seen from Ukraine
seen from Bulgaria
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Togo
seen from Spain
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Estonia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@wilson-the-moth
Jaskier: *working on a new song during breakfast*
Eskel: Oh you wrote the second part? Sounds good
Jaskier: What do you mean? You heard me play it before?
Eskel: No, but I heard Geralt humming it yesterday
Jaskier:
Geralt, walking into the room: Good morn-
Jaskier: YOU LOVE MY SONGS, I KNEW IT-
Geralt:
Eskel: *gulps awkwardly*
Geralt, to Eskel: I asked you for one thing
Me: I've already listened to this musical multiple times. It aint gonna get me.
Eliza, taking Alexander's hand: It's quiet uptown.
Me, ugly sobbing: F-Forgi-given-ness!
x’D
:l
x’D
trending news
underwater temple, underwater monk
underwater rhymes and underwater funk
he sleeps in the sea in an underwater bunk
with mirrors all around him hes an underwater hunk
he’s got underwater junk in his underwater trunk
on the basketball court he does a nautical dunk
he’s got a little stash of underwater skunk
underwater temple, underwater monk
Sick rhymes
HOLY COW! SOMEONE MADE THIS A SONG!!👍✨
A politician dies…
And ends up standing in front of the pearly gates. Saint Peter looks at him for a second, flicks through his book, and finds his name.
“So, you’re a politician…” “Well, yes, is that a problem?” “Oh no, no problem. But we’ve recently adopted a new system for people in your line of work, and unfortunately you will have to spend a day in Hell. After that however, you’re free to choose where you want to spend eternity!”
“Wait, I have to spend a day in Hell??” says the politician. “Them’s the rules” Says St Peter, clicks his fingers, and WOOMPH, the guy dissapears… And awakes, curled up with his hands over his eyes, knowing he’s in Hell. Cautiously, he listens for the screams, sniffs the air for brimstone, and finds… Nothing. Just the smell of, is that fabric softener? And cut grass, this can’t be right?
“Open your eyes!” says a voice. “C'mon, wakey wakey, we’ve only got 24 hours!”. Nervously, he uncovers his eyes, looks around, and sees he’s in a hotel room. A nice one too. Wait, this is a penthouse suite… And there’s a smiling man in a suit, holding a martini. “Who are you??” The politician asks. “Well, I’m Satan!” says the man, handing him the drink and helping him to his feet. “Welcome to Hell!” “Wait, this is Hell? But… Where’s all the pain and suffering?” he asks. Satan throws him a wink. “Oh, we’ve been a bit mis-represented over the years, it’s a long story. Anyway, this is your room! The minibar is of course free, as is the room service, there’s extra towels next to the hot-tub, and if you need anything, just call reception. But enough of this! It’s a beautiful day, and if you’d care to look outside…” Slightly stunned by the opulent surroundings, the man wanders over to the floor-to-ceiling windows through which the sun is glowing, looks far down, and sees a group of people cheering and waving at him from a golf course. “It’s one of 5 pro-level courses on site, and there’s another 6 just a few minutes drive out past the beach and harbour!” says Satan, answering his unasked question. So they head down in the lift, walk out through the glittering lobby where everyone waves and welcomes the man, as Satan signs autographs and cherrily talks shop with the laughing staff. And as he walks out, he sees the group on the golf course are made up of every one of his old friends, people he’s admired for years but never met or worked with, and people whose work he’s admired but died long before his career started. And out of the middle of this group walks his wife, with a massive smile and the body she had when she was 20, who throws her arms around him and plants a delicate kiss on his cheek. Everyone cheers and applauds, and as they slap him on the back and trade jokes, his worst enemy arrives, as a 2 foot tall goblin-esque caddy. He spends the day in the bright sunshine on the course, having the time of his life laughing at jokes and carrying important discussions, putting the world to rights with his friends while holding his delighted wife next to him as she gazes lovingly at him. Later, they return to the hotel for dinner and have an enormous meal, perfectly cooked, which descends into a food-fight when someone accidentally throws a bread roll at the next table (where Ghandi is having a game of truth-or-dare with Marylin Monroe). As everyone is falling about laughing and flinging breadsticks at each other, his wife whispers in his ear… And they return to their penthouse suite, and spend the rest of the night making love like they did on their honeymoon. After 6 hours of intense passion, the man falls deep into the 100% Egyptian cotton pillows, and falls into a deep and happy sleep… And is woken up by St Peter. “So, that was Hell. Wasn’t what you were expecting, I bet?” “No sir!” says the man. “So then” says St Peter “you can make your choice. It’s Hell, which you saw, or Heaven, which has choral singing, talking to God, white robes, and so on”. “Well… I know this sounds strange, but on balance, I think I’d prefer Hell” says the politician. “Not a problem, we totally understand! Enjoy!” Says St Peter, and clicks his fingers again.
The man wakes up in total darkness, the stench of ammonia filling the air and distant screams the only noise. As he adjusts, he can see the only light is from belches of flame far away, illuminating the ragged remains of people being tortured or burning in a sulphurous ocean. A sudden bolt of lightning reveals Satan next to him, wearing the same suit as before and grinning, holding a soldering iron in one hand and a coil of razor-wire in the other. “What’s this??” He cries. “Where’s the hotel?? Where’s my wife??? Where’s the minibar, the golf-courses, the pool, the restaurant, the free drinks and the sunshine???”
“Ah”, says Satan. “You see, yesterday, we were campaigning. But today, you voted…”
Jeff, this isn’t a joke; I’ve just had a spiritual awakening.
A politician dies…
And ends up standing in front of the pearly gates. Saint Peter looks at him for a second, flicks through his book, and finds his name.
“So, you’re a politician…” “Well, yes, is that a problem?” “Oh no, no problem. But we’ve recently adopted a new system for people in your line of work, and unfortunately you will have to spend a day in Hell. After that however, you’re free to choose where you want to spend eternity!”
“Wait, I have to spend a day in Hell??” says the politician. “Them’s the rules” Says St Peter, clicks his fingers, and WOOMPH, the guy dissapears… And awakes, curled up with his hands over his eyes, knowing he’s in Hell. Cautiously, he listens for the screams, sniffs the air for brimstone, and finds… Nothing. Just the smell of, is that fabric softener? And cut grass, this can’t be right?
“Open your eyes!” says a voice. “C'mon, wakey wakey, we’ve only got 24 hours!”. Nervously, he uncovers his eyes, looks around, and sees he’s in a hotel room. A nice one too. Wait, this is a penthouse suite… And there’s a smiling man in a suit, holding a martini. “Who are you??” The politician asks. “Well, I’m Satan!” says the man, handing him the drink and helping him to his feet. “Welcome to Hell!” “Wait, this is Hell? But… Where’s all the pain and suffering?” he asks. Satan throws him a wink. “Oh, we’ve been a bit mis-represented over the years, it’s a long story. Anyway, this is your room! The minibar is of course free, as is the room service, there’s extra towels next to the hot-tub, and if you need anything, just call reception. But enough of this! It’s a beautiful day, and if you’d care to look outside…” Slightly stunned by the opulent surroundings, the man wanders over to the floor-to-ceiling windows through which the sun is glowing, looks far down, and sees a group of people cheering and waving at him from a golf course. “It’s one of 5 pro-level courses on site, and there’s another 6 just a few minutes drive out past the beach and harbour!” says Satan, answering his unasked question. So they head down in the lift, walk out through the glittering lobby where everyone waves and welcomes the man, as Satan signs autographs and cherrily talks shop with the laughing staff. And as he walks out, he sees the group on the golf course are made up of every one of his old friends, people he’s admired for years but never met or worked with, and people whose work he’s admired but died long before his career started. And out of the middle of this group walks his wife, with a massive smile and the body she had when she was 20, who throws her arms around him and plants a delicate kiss on his cheek. Everyone cheers and applauds, and as they slap him on the back and trade jokes, his worst enemy arrives, as a 2 foot tall goblin-esque caddy. He spends the day in the bright sunshine on the course, having the time of his life laughing at jokes and carrying important discussions, putting the world to rights with his friends while holding his delighted wife next to him as she gazes lovingly at him. Later, they return to the hotel for dinner and have an enormous meal, perfectly cooked, which descends into a food-fight when someone accidentally throws a bread roll at the next table (where Ghandi is having a game of truth-or-dare with Marylin Monroe). As everyone is falling about laughing and flinging breadsticks at each other, his wife whispers in his ear… And they return to their penthouse suite, and spend the rest of the night making love like they did on their honeymoon. After 6 hours of intense passion, the man falls deep into the 100% Egyptian cotton pillows, and falls into a deep and happy sleep… And is woken up by St Peter. “So, that was Hell. Wasn’t what you were expecting, I bet?” “No sir!” says the man. “So then” says St Peter “you can make your choice. It’s Hell, which you saw, or Heaven, which has choral singing, talking to God, white robes, and so on”. “Well… I know this sounds strange, but on balance, I think I’d prefer Hell” says the politician. “Not a problem, we totally understand! Enjoy!” Says St Peter, and clicks his fingers again.
The man wakes up in total darkness, the stench of ammonia filling the air and distant screams the only noise. As he adjusts, he can see the only light is from belches of flame far away, illuminating the ragged remains of people being tortured or burning in a sulphurous ocean. A sudden bolt of lightning reveals Satan next to him, wearing the same suit as before and grinning, holding a soldering iron in one hand and a coil of razor-wire in the other. “What’s this??” He cries. “Where’s the hotel?? Where’s my wife??? Where’s the minibar, the golf-courses, the pool, the restaurant, the free drinks and the sunshine???”
“Ah”, says Satan. “You see, yesterday, we were campaigning. But today, you voted…”
Jeff, this isn’t a joke; I’ve just had a spiritual awakening.
another pic, different angle
^ important
big boy
michaelangelo could put all that work into perspective tricks and he still couldn’t sculpt a titty
Well yeah he was gay
Fun fact: actually, the vast majority of religious sculpture was made this way. From stone altars to capitals, the head was disproportionate to the body, and the body itself sort of grows the higher you go, because it was made for the reason stated above: it was supposed to be seen from below, and the artist was well aware of that.
The issue with us failing to understand this generally speaking is not so much that we don’t see it up close (David is too big for that), but because we see it far often. This is a mistake perpetuated by many museums, who exhibit these pieces in our eye level, which allows us to see that disproportionate build of the figure depicted. We become too aware of it. That’s why there’s a common belief that gothic sculptors didn’t really know what a body looked like - and depending on the region, sometimes well into the renaissance. Because museums tends to take these pieces out of their own original context, present them to our eye level, and in many instances, fail to explain why that distortion exists. So we see them in a way it’s NOT supposed to be seen.
These guys knew what tf they were doing
(and yes he was v gay and didn’t know what a titty looked like)
I DON’T CARE HOW MANY TIMES I’VE REBLOGGED THIS IT WILL NEVER END
hey y’all do you want to see a dragon that i drew
of course you do here he is
ok here’s the deal you all have my permission to tattoo this thing on your bodies if you so wish BUT you have to send pictures of your tattoo i wanna see it!!!
I legit stalked you to find this post to ask if I could get it as a tattoo
“This… is Berk.”
The Evolution of Berk
Me on my way to eat your ass
Was that caption really necessary
IDK, but the music was
When I’m married someday I want to be so in love that our kids are disgusted
If your “loving” relationship disgusts your kids then you’ve probably caused them trama from exposing them to your toxic relationship with your SO that you’re now rekindling in front of their faces and they hate you for it
max they mean in the lighthearted “eeeeeew moom” way not like fucking in front of them
I genuinely cannot comprehend how they came up with that paragraph
How is this website free
“This… is Berk.”
The Evolution of Berk
PHIL IS NOT ON FIRE 10!
