tutorial

brush him

??? this cat is attempting to calm her steed

This looks like a fuckin’ classical painting.

There I painted it.

Oh. My. God.

do you ever

do you ever just have

that one class

that one freaking class

that just depresses you when you think about it because

oh god you hate it so much

The bourgeoisie

i love myself but i dont love me back

i have never ever related to anything so fucking hard

it’s sometimes hard to believe rasputin was real. like there’s no non-fucked up part of rasputin’s existence

did he do something problematic i thought he was just russia’s greatest love machine

basic (true) story: fanatical russian monk who has almost never shaved or washed and smells like goats shows up at the russian capital with a creepy look on his beardy face and everyone just assumes he’s a prophet or a saint because he’s got a cult following that believes he can cure illnesses. his stans are sexually obsessed with him and he gets just a fuckton of russian pussy wherever he goes cause apparently he can cure his true believers of illness with god-given dick magic. russia’s queen has him come stay at the palace and sets him up in luxury because she thinks he can cure her son’s haemophilia with the power of russian goat jesus, and they (allegedly) become lovers, probably, ‘cause she craves that unwashed goat-scented dick like the rest of his cult which she now  (allegedly) belongs to. 

then the worst assassins in the history of assassinations try to assassinate him, because all of russia is slutshaming the queen he has too much power over the royal family and it’s helping revolutionaries turn people against the royals. so these idiots have him round for tea and cakes which are poisoned with cyanide, but he is magically unaffected by poison they get the dose wrong and he doesn’t die, and then he drinks three glasses of wine, which are also poisoned, and he doesn’t die, so they tell him to look at a crucifix and shoot him in the chest with a revolver when he isn’t looking, and he doesn’t die, but they think he’s dead so one of them dresses in his clothes and gets driven to his apartment to make it look like he’s gone home to hide the crime, and when they come back he gets up and attacks them, so they stab him in the side with a knife, and he doesn’t die, and then he frees himself and runs outside, so they shoot him a few times more, including in the forehead, and they wrap his body up and chuck him in the icy river, and he doesn’t go into the water, so his body is found on the ice the next day. and get this…. he died…. of hypothermia.

additionally, everyone who wasnt in the party of getting rid of rasputin was pretty bummed out when they found him and his miracle dick dead the next day and there was a pretty bangin funeral of which the royal family themselves attended. however after the tsar was overthrown a few month later they exhumed his body and burned it because the new leadership was very adamant about making sure there were no ties left to honor the old monarchy. however this dudes body had never been properly prepped for a cremation which meant that under the extreme heat his tendons and ligaments began to retract and shrink causing his dead body to move and twitch around as if still animate. according to some testimony his body actually sat up straight on the pyre, and at least one spectator fired a gun at the body and another may have allegedly died of shock.

Rasputin was an old god from times before humans

He is like a cleric gone wild

“did rasputin do something problematic” i am going to die

I may not be an explorer, or an adventurer, or a treasure-seeker, or a gunfighter, Mr. O'Connell, but I am proud of what I am. I… am a librarian!

→ The Mummy (1999) dir. Stephen Sommers

The very best kind of plot twist.

by Good Bear Comics

when i get murdered i want it to be so perfect and mysterious that i get featured on buzzfeed unsolved true crime with only one theory and it’s about aliens

after dying god informs you that hell is a myth, and “everyone sins, its ok”. instead the dead are sorted into six “houses of heaven” based on the sins they chose.

We arrived first at the House of Lust. “House” is a misleading term. It was more of a camp, spread over acres and acres of lush forest. There was a white sandy beach (nude, of course) full of copulating couples. There were little cabins sprinkled all along the path, from which orgasmic moans regularly came belting out. Men with six pack abs and women with perky breasts strolled by without even noticing me and God. They only had eyes for each other, tickling and pinching each other with flirtatious giggles.

“What do you think?” God asked as we passed a nineteen-way taking place in a pool of champagne. Little cherubs flitted overhead armed with mops and cleaning supplies, thankfully. “Lust is our most popular sin.” I eyed the supermodel-like figures of a couple passing nearby, and could easily see why. “You can look however you want. Hell, you can be whatever gender you want. No fetish is too taboo, and no desire can be denied here.”

It was quite tempting, but I wasn’t ready to make a permanent decision here. “Let’s see the others,” I told God.

We carried on to Greed. We passed rows and rows of mansions, each more opulent than the next. Some of them were so large that they would have had enough bed rooms to fit my entire hometown. And so many different styles: one second, we were in a beautiful French vineyard in front of a gorgeous chateau with the Alps in the background. The next second, a warm tropical beach with a modern mansion atop breathtaking cliffs. After that, a ski chalet in Colorado with a roaring fire in a hearth large enough to fit an ox. Each one had various Italian sports cars and Rolls Royces parked in front, with the occasional smattering of boats, helicopters, etc.

“Any material desire you ever wanted,” God explained. “Your own world, where you can have everything. You want the Hope Diamond? You can fly to Washington DC in your own solid gold helicopter and buy it from the Smithsonian. Hell, you can just buy the Smithsonian.”

Also tempting, but I decided to keep looking.

Gluttony was next up. Tables and tables of the very finest foods: beautiful steaks cooked medium rare; butter-poached lobster tail; fresh oysters on a half shell; exotic wines in dusty bottles that had been hiding in the cellars of the world’s finest restaurants. Everyone had a glass of champagne in hand and simply lounged on couches and chairs near the tables, eating endlessly. As soon as the inhabitants took a bite, the food just instantly came back. My mouth watered even watching them.

“In every other House, the food is practically sawdust compared to Gluttony,” God explained. “You haven’t truly experienced heaven until you’ve been to Gluttony.”

I shook my head, and we kept moving.

Sloth was as you’d expect. An endless sea of the softest mattresses, stacked with cushions and pillows that made the story of the princess and the pea seem minimalist. Little angels visited each resident, giving them massages that made them all melt into their blankets.

Wrath was… well, a lot like what I’d expect Hell to be like. Fire, brimstone, whips, torture.. you know, the works. Except here, you weren’t the one being tortured. Every enemy you’d ever made in your real life was now under your thumb. “Lots of people choose their fathers,” God explained. “Lots of grudges against parents in general, you know. But you’re not limited to that. Someone beat you out for a big promotion back on Earth? Take your pound of flesh here.”

Then we arrived at Envy. It looked… well, a lot like home.

“Go on in,” God said, gesturing toward the door. I turned the knob and walked in… and found Emily waiting inside. She ran forward, wrapped her arms around my neck, and planted a kiss right on my lips. “Welcome home, honey.”

I looked back toward God. “Oh, don’t be coy,” he said. “You have no secrets from me. We all know that you were in love with your best friend’s wife.” She didn’t seem to hear him at all; she went back into the hall. “We all know that you just settled for your own wife while secretly pining after her. Well, this is your chance to live happily ever after.”

I peered into the kitchen. Emily was baking something, wearing nothing but an apron. Her curly black hair fell softly over her shoulder as she whisked ingredients. She turned back, noticed I was observing her, and an enthusiastic smile spread across her face.

“It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” God whispered in my ear.

I wanted to take it. God damn did I want to take it. But I shook my head.

God seemed puzzled. “You need to make a decision,” he told me.

“I haven’t seen Pride yet.”

He scoffed. “No one ever wants Pride, trust me.”

“Well, I want to see it.”

_________________________

Pride was boring. Just a row of workbenches in a bare white room.

“I don’t get it,” I told God.

“Yeah, no one does,” he answered. “That’s why no one ever chooses it. Doesn’t cavorting in Lust sound better than sitting here building little trinkets for the rest of eternity? Wouldn’t you rather gorge yourself in Gluttony? Or spend time with Emily in Envy?”

I considered the options again. “I pick Pride,” I finally told him.

He narrowed his eyes. “What? Look at it!” He gestured around the room again. There wasn’t much to look at. “Why would you choose this for the rest of time?”

“Because you don’t want me to pick it,” I told him. If he was really God, he’d know what a contrarian I can be. And I knew he was hiding something, trying to pretend like Pride didn’t exist. There was something special about it.

God scowled back. “Fine.” He led me over to one of the workbenches. In the center, there was a black space. A blank, empty void that went on forever. “Here’s your universe,” he said. “You’ve got seven days to get started.” He took his seat at the bench next to me and went back to tinkering in his own world. After a long pause, he finally spoke again: “You know, it might be nice for me to actually have some company for once.”

FUCKING I MEAN.

IT’S LIKE 7AM AND I LOVE GONNA REBLOG SO I CAN READ THIS SHIT AGAIN

via Van Kelsing

*cap’s voice* I understood that reference ❤️

i love cats

you have long cat (serval)

ear cat (sand cat)

small evil cat (black footed cat)

spherical cat (pallas cat)

cat who probably watches makeup tutorials on youtube (caracal)

very round cat (leopardus guigna)

water cat (fishing cat)

cat with socks (leopardus colocolo)

grayscale cat (geoffroy’s cat)

and let’s not forget revolver cat (ocelot)

🎶These are a few of my favorite things 🎶

Don’t forget Snek Cat (Clouded Leopard)

@bunjywunjy

LOOK, TEETHY FUR BOIS

IMPORTANT ALLEGED CATS

Are You 100% Sure This Isn’t A Lemur (flat-headed cat)

That’s A Fucking Stoat (Jaguarundi)

Foot Fetish (canadian lynx)

(OK I’M SORRY FOR THAT ONE BUT JESUS JUST LOOK AT IT.)

and I move that my favorite, spherical cat, should be renamed Redonkasaurus Rex immediately (pallas cat)

@turbotasstic

Now this is the kind of content I signed up for. XD

elizabeth swan and will turner are actually SO romance in the first movie and not enough people acknowledged this because the early 2000s were the age of the edgelords who only valued jack sparrow’s moral ambiguity and that is the TRUTH

the part where she’s like “how many times do i have to tell you to call me elizabeth” and he shyly says “once more, miss swann” and once she walks away he gazes adoringly after her and whispers “elizabeth” to himself like he’s unworthy of it

then when he’s patching up the cut on her hand and she flinches and he says “i know, blacksmith’s hands… they’re rough” because he thinks that’s what’s bothering her HE KNOWS HE’S NOT WORTHY OF HER!!! THAT’S THE PINING I’M TALKING ABOUT BINCH!!! I DON’T ACCEPT LESS!!!!

he has like 10 chances to confess his love to her but waits until he’s dressed like this to do it: 

my man knows 1) the importance of a good outfit when shooting your shot 2) how to ACCESSORIZE. take NOTES.

That’s how I would dress if I was gonna confess my undying love to Kiera knightley

the best kind of bird are the really short and fat ones. i love them 

!!!!! beautiful!! this is the best bird in the world!!!!!!!! 

*male celebrities worrying about getting their career ruined*

all of us:

sometimes i just sit and think about ways a genie can grant wishes.