#beakhead

[bruneburg]

cleaning motivation beast

#doodle #bw #pencil #cleaning #clean #beast #beastie #beakhead #bruneburg #anita bruneburg #bruneburg art #cartoony #simplistic #sketch #motivation beast

[acanthyme]

Nothing like a nice little orderly to help you hand out candy on a Halloween.

#patho #pathologic #мор утопия #pathologic 2 #executor #Executor pathologic #Orderlies #Beakhead #pumpkin carving #halloween #yes i know it's late but idc i'm proud of this and its cool me thinks #My best work in years me thinks... #Whole process took about 6-7 hours? #Thank god for my old linocut tools for sticking it out thru this... #Also added my planning sketch just for funsies

[dkla0vd2j]

Corno filma o amigo chupando minha buceta Thick slut with nice pussy handjob Free gay porn masturbating car window first time Taking A Raw Load In HORNY gay troop FUCKING hardcore in the SHOWERS with GINGER Fucking white hoe Curvy MILF Alisha Rydes offers her big natural tits for sex Adulterous british mature gill ellis displays her gigantic tits คลิปหลุด วีเจซอลี่ ไลฟ์สด Mlive ใช้ขวดเบ็ดหีโชว์ Casada levando no cuzinho Debajo de falda colegiala

#deciduary #Lukan #Connee #lance-oblong #oxim #totalisms #nonformidable #facsimilize #Podarces #dromedary #Duculinae #sea-devil #unsalutary #reburnish #beakhead #unstoved #sympathicotonic #fancy-free #heterodoxly #cream-white

[cinnabro1999]

GUYS DW FLUTTERBY ISNT A KID SHES AN ADULT , A GROWN WOMAN, THEYRE BOTH 33

anyway lesbians !!1!1!1

#this is a tag #doodle #art #digital art #oc #spy vs spy #spy vs spy ocs #ARHHGHG BEAKHEAD x NORMAL ASS WOMAN>>>>>

[smellofwater]

Stillingfleet

View On WordPress

#Ancient Door #Arch #Architecture #Beakheads #Norman #Romanesque #Stillingfleet #Yorkshire

[hatconfessionbooth]

Confession 150... The CAW Agents remind me of the silly beakhead spies from Spy Vs. Spy and I love them so much

#hat confession #a hat in time #ahit #spy vs spy

[walkinthew00ds]

new beakhead dropped! run

#♡ my art #spy vs spy #spy vs spy oc

[ltwilliammowett]

Head

As sailing ships developed, the beakhead was the name given to a structure projecting forward from the stem and bowsprit. This was essentially a work platform, decked with gratings and open to the sea below. The constant flushing from the waves washing through the gratings made the head an ideal toilet. Hence the name for this area.

The head on the beakhead of the 17th-century warship Vasa. (x)

But “heads” was also an aura, from the head. If the wind was very strong and the "business" threatened to blow away, then one warned one's comrades not to show the head outside the ship with the call "heads".

#naval history #naval term #head #heads #toilette #age of sail

[skepwith]

Where Is the Revenge’s Toilet?

In ep 1 Stede gives a tour of the Revenge that includes the “en suite,” a small room with a toilet and some kind of bathing bucket. But we’re never shown where on the ship it is, exactly.

Stede of course has a bathroom next to his cabin, but from what we can see it only has a bath, no toilet.

So does this mean Stede uses the en suite along with the crew? Not necessarily! On navy vessels of the period, the officers used toilets in the quarter galleries—the enclosed balconies that stick out on either side of the stern. Presumably this is because of the way they hang out over the water, so the waste can fall straight into the ocean.

Right: “Seat of Ease off the Captain’s Quarters” by Robert G. Hewitt © 2020.

On the Revenge, the port gallery contains Stede’s bed, but there are some spaces around it that could maybe house a toilet. The starboard gallery is a mystery: yes, secret passage, but also maybe toilet(s)?

As for the crew, there’s the time-honoured tradition of just pissing over the rail, but in heavy weather you might lose your balance and fall overboard. By the 1700s ships were built with a pissdale, a basin or trough placed just inside the low walls around the main deck. It acted as a urinal, funnelling the urine off the side of the ship. I can’t say for sure the Revenge has a pissdale, but it seems like something Stede would include. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jim figured out a way to use it too, maybe with an 18th-century P-Mate.

“Pissdale on Deck of Ship” by Robert G. Hewitt © 2020.

But of course this wouldn’t do for, ahem, solid waste. Below is a 1728 diagram of a ship’s toilet, labelled “necessary seat” (14), also called the “seat of ease,” as in the earlier illustration. It’s located in the ship’s head (or beakhead), which is why the word head came to mean toilet, as in “I’m gonna hit the head.”

The deck of the head was also partly open—slatted rather than solid—to let the waves in to rinse everything out, which is why toilets were usually placed just above the water line. Here’s the beakhead of the Swedish warship Vasa from the 1620s, with two box-like toilets. You can see the remains of a seat on the right-hand one.

As for the Revenge, it makes sense to put the en suite in the head, somewhere where the toilet can open directly over the water. Let’s look again:

Left of Pete there’s a vessel with a handle sitting on a small barrel. This could be a scoop and a covered bucket of seawater for “flushing,” i.e., sluicing the inside of the toilet with scoops of water. This only makes sense if there’s somewhere for the waste to go; if the toilet was a stool with a chamber pot inside, you could just rinse it out when you dumped its contents.

Also, look at the right-hand wall. It’s decorated with moulded panelling (carved squares), which seems pretty fancy for a toilet room. Unless it’s a continuation of the fo’c’sle’s front wall.

I was very proud of this theory until I noticed the panels don’t match. Alas.

There’s also a noticeable gap in the toilet room’s right wall. It could just be the door, but my theory is it’s an open gap to make room for the bowsprit higher up the wall (see diagram below).

Another piece of the puzzle is the pattern of light and shadow against the walls. We don’t see any other shadows like it (except in the “ball room,” which is another post). It doesn’t match any of the gratings we’ve seen, which make a crosshatch pattern, nor does it line up with the ship’s railings. Does this matter? Well, look, someone on the film crew had to cut out that shape and stick it in front of a light, or however they do it, to cast that specific shadow, so I’m guessing it points to something.

My first guess was that the light here is shining through the railing around the head, which is a different shape from the ship’s other railings. If the head’s deck isn’t solid—like on historical ships—the light could be coming from behind the railing and shining through the slats.

But…the deck of the Revenge’s head looks pretty solid, as far as I can tell. Still, we haven’t seen the entire deck…

Just leave me my delusions, okay?

So, finally, here is my new improved diagram of the head:

Is it accurate? Who can say. It’s really all headcanon at this point.

(Sorry.)

#ofmd #ofmd meta #mapping the Revenge #nautical history #historical ships #history of toilets #truly obsessive attention to detail

[magicalmysteryperson]

Those two beakheads (Made on ‎May ‎17, ‎2022)

#spy vs spy #cw: gore #fanart #white spy #black spy #monochrome #art #my art

[bruneburg]

A little beakhead wizard, full of ideas and potential.

#bruneburg #lineless #vectorised #lineless art #beakhead #creature #green #yellow #monster #beastie #minimalist #simplistic #cartoony #silly #nailpolish #bruneburg art #bruneburgart #anitabruneburg #anita bruneburg #fashion #vector #vector art #drawing #cute #creecher #fantasy #adorable #green wizard #green outfit #wizardposting

[salvatriceaverse]

At the end of the small hours, the disparate stranding, the exacerbated stench of corruption, the monstrous sodomies of the host and the sacrificing priest, the impassable beakhead frames of prejudice and stupidity, the prostitutions, the hypocrisies, the lubricities, the treasons, the lies, the frauds, the concussions — the panting of a deficient cowardice, the heave-holess enthusiasm of supernumerary sahibs, the greeds, the hysterias, the perversions, the harlequinades of poverty, the cripplings, the pruritus, the urticaria, the tepid hammocks of degeneracy. Right here the parade of laughable and scrofulous buboes, the forced feeding of very strange microbes, the poisons without known alexins, the sanies of really ancient sores, the unforeseeable fermentations of putrescible species.

Aimé Césaire, Notebook of a Return to the Native Land (1939), tr. Arnold & Eshleman

#aimé césaire

[graveyard-grace]

POV: Grace Time: Morning Day: 9 Status: Open

Grace woke up under her warm blankets once again. So warm. So cozy. That place was truly heavenly, though today it seemed a bit too quiet. She had already learned that there wasn’t too much noise in those apartments. The walls were thick and not many sounds slipped through, but she felt alone. It could be that the artist was still asleep and if that was the case she didn’t want to bother him either. He was sick just the day before, he ought to rest. Grace could handle the rest of the housekeeping on her own, surely.

Once she got out of bed her eyes scoured to try and find just what housekeeping entailed. She straightened her bedsheets but beyond that she wasn’t quite sure what to do. Maybe breakfast would be a good idea, but if the artist was still asleep she probably shouldn’t take too much food from his storage. Grace could do without breakfast too. She could eat once they were both awake, it might even be better to wait for what he even has for breakfast too.

After pondering for what seemed like too long, she finally settled on going outside to at least get some water. Water was always a good thing to have, she could do that while the artist slept. She gathered some empty bottles that were laying around and made her way to the nearest keg. Luckily the water didn’t seem too gray, yet in that moment it wasn’t the water itself that alarmed her. Just as she was filling the second bottle she heard passerbies comment on how they were finally... Finally burning the corpses.

Grace’s heart sunk and everything else she had planned to do faded away in an instant. They couldn’t be burning the corpses. They couldn’t burn them! They mustn’t burn! Ever! Who could ever order, or even do such a thing?!

Her feet raced down the tangled streets until she finally found her home. Her real home. Her home that was now in flames! They had truly done it. They were burning them! She could smell the burnt flesh and it made her gag through panicked screams.

“Stop! You can’t! Stop! Stop!”

Grace screamed from the top of her lungs at the beakheads that were surrounding the bonfires. There wasn’t even any wood fueling the fires, just bodies on top of bodies on top of more bodies.

“Stop! Stop burning them! Stop!”

She continued to cry out despite getting no response from the towering figures. Her voice didn’t even seem to reach them. But they had to stop. Her eyes desperately sought to find something, anything, to make the beakheads leave yet around here was only dry grass. Grace hadn’t any time to spare. With only dry herbs surrounding her, she dashed to her small hut and grabbed her shovel.

“Get away from them!”

At least those monsters were slow in their outfits. Try as they did, they couldn’t get close to Grace as she swung her shovel at them.

Damned, cursed people!

Grace was panting by the time the beakheads finally decided that going against the graveyard keeper was too much of a hassle to deal with that morning. She just had to stop the fires after. She had to...

But how did one stop a fire? She had to act, they were in pain and she could feel their silent screams tear at her heart.

She swung her shovel at the fires, though as expected, it did little to stop the flame’s all-consuming rage. Her thoughts then strayed to water. Normally water would fight fire and yet in her panic, she had left her bottles by the keg on the other side of town. There was no water near her. There was no way for her to stop the fires. There was nothing she could do but watch. Watch as they cried for help, cried in agony and pain for anyone to stop that torment.

“I’m sorry...” Grace’s voice whispered back to darkened dead. Her trembling hands still tried to reach to the corpses as the flames eventually died out, yet it was too hot for her cold fingers to handle. “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry... I won’t leave. I won’t leave again, I won’t...” let this happen again; she thought to herself as her voice gave out amidst her tearful sobs.

#PathologicRP #Grace

[cinnabro1999]

tried to play around w beakhead nose shales & how their hair is just lines sp

#this is a tag #art #doodle #digital art #spy vs spy #spy vs spy oc #spy vs spy oc concepts #might turn wendel/wn jnto the big hooked beakhead shape

[brooxonianbek]

WEEK HEXACHLOROCYCLOHEXANE

{Feb 26th ~ Mar 3rd}

And here we are relating the sixth week of my venturing — time will tell if I will catch up to the present before I get back to the southern hemisphere. This week began with a frightening and histrionic email from an authority figure in our accomodations, fuming that all the flats in our building had been writing in whiteboard marker on our brand new fridges, and as such, “if [she] sees even a smudge of ink left, [we] will be charged for new appliances.”[1] Suffice it to say, the email was so aggressive, that we were shocked into submission, and have only drawn on the fridges a tiny bit since. But we have been decorating with magnets.

I went again to Magdalen college chapel with my flatmate to attend a classical organ recital, which was full of drama and wonder and excitement and fantasy — the organist was the highly skilled Katelyn Emerson, who can be found on the interwebs, if anyone is curious. We were also allowed to photograph the chapel in this time, as it wasn’t a church service, so I have attached one such image.

Spending more time in the studio, I was trying new ideas with gold underpainting, and leaving works in an ‘unfinished’ state of obscurity in composition. I’m working with inspiration from the small, carved architectural details that are so common around the city of Oxford, and in so many places in the Kingdom, that your average tourist is prone to overlook (naturally, I myself am not your average tourist), and that even locals may not notice. I’m also interested in the ideas of age, and how these buildings can be so old, and have seen so many years of students and fellows and legends of history coming and going — and the little botanical details that immortalise the ephemeral blooms into stone to stand the test of time, both softening the stone into something beautiful, and strengthening the flowers into something lasting. I’ll work more on my ideas and paintings as the semester progresses.

I’ve been sending and receiving postcards and letters this week, and I’d be very happy to exchange more — if anyone else would like me to send my postal address, shoot me a line.

The lecturer for the architecture module that I began a few weeks ago has given all of us in the class a special letter from the Oxford University colleges to grant us permission to tour every college for free, for the purpose of studying the architectural history, which is a thrilling prospect, and I hope to make the most of this opportunity. I have already used said letter to get into Christ Church (I felt like royalty as I was ushered in, with my letter from the Dean and the ‘Oh, yes, we were told you were coming; we were expecting you; let us know if we can do anything to assist you; don’t forget to see the chapter house; it’s a beautiful example of a Norman beakhead archway’ — cheers to the staff there, thanks Rob <3) and toured the cathedral, and witnessed a choir rehearsal whilst inside. It’s a very interesting church to look at after gaining a little knowledge of the forms used in the design, because you notice how eclectic the whole building is — it’s got Gothic windows designed from almost every architectural period throughout the Middle Ages, so you can tell which parts of the building were added when. Australia just doesn’t give me the same opportunities to learn like this, because the country simply isn’t old enough! 

Shifting pace from cathedrals to nightclubs, I was invited by my trusty flatmate to attend an evening at a ‘club’, which I did so with curiosity and a certain level of wariness, limiting myself to two drinks, having eaten a good dinner, and going home at the reasonable hour of 2am, I’ll have you know, Papa. For my first experience of such a venue, it was strange, to say the least, and not my brand of enjoyment, but I had a good enough time with friends to justify it the once. I am also very glad I had earplugs with me.

This more eventful week ended with a fog blessed Sunday morning, melting into a sunkissed Sunday afternoon that I enjoyed by a window in a cafe between church services, reading my novel and writing my letters.

[1] Authority Figure, Unspecified, Gmail, 2024.

#oxford #christ church #christ church cathedral #architecture #architectural history #history #art history #history of art

[reggiemess]

Monster tit time.

#my art #monster #sketch #beakhead #beakface #dead animal