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fuckyeahanarchistposters

"How to reason with a War CRiminal"

Graphic designed by Rafeal Pereira

hinamie

are these what the kids are calling *checks notes* magical girls?

stealingpotatoes

pretty sure this is exactly how lessons at qifrey's atelier go

(links // tip jar!)

Me internet bloody died on me while on call with some mates for a bloody hour so I spent it conlanging. Decided to try and handle partitives and such in Lang 3, which has proven to be a whole mess of marking differently for ever so slightly different things. Not shown here is also compositional expressions like ''sword of iron'' which is formed via a genitive expression. Anyway the difference between the second and third examples is that the second is using juxtaposition to denote what the declined noun is actually for, in this case for water. While the third is showing more of a psuedo-partitive I believe where the cup is actually containing the thing in the comitative case. Literally ''water cup'' VS ''cup with water''. I am also sure there are loads of tiny little details that im going to need to iron out eventually... like what happens to ''water cup'' and ''cup with water'' when used in a true partitive and have to be put into the ablative?? but those can wait rn cause I am EXHAUSTED. Hell maybe ill wake up tomorrow and just scrap all of this and start again... ahaa....

#constructed language #conlang #conlanging

sornieths-black-market

Fae + red panda?

the softest child??

pocketss

leave your laundry on the floor for them

poems-from-the-hanging-garden

Thálassa

One hundred poets could venture the seas and never find the right words

The severed seven,

I know there’s more to see

As the salts in the water take over me,

I wonder if our eyes ever meet when I stare off

The waves beat me across the sand banks

And I rust away,

Joining all the homes that once melted away

My bones creak,

As the tide rolls me away

The moon's sex toy,

The waves fall back

The repetition drives me insane

My head falls numb

As the salt eats away

She is alright

But the waves greet the night like its another day

And she sleeps

As the moon keeps me awake

randompumpkinkiddo

My superiors are... so moe!!??!!

cailleachoiche

Lancer has its grip on me once again (despite the fact I've never played it) and so I present you with some Oc headshots! On the left we have Allice Dimontrall:

Originally a Cosmopolitan, Allice became obsessed with Transhumanism after she had to be rebuilt due to a severe accident. Eventually becoming a Horus pilot, she is now a freelance mercenary piloting a Pegasus named 'Dancing Queen' (no correlation to Abba).

Dimontrall is a misspelling of the ancient toponym "De Montréal"

And on the right we have Cole Chamberlain:

Cole 'Xerocole' Chamberlain was a humble mechanic on an arid, backwater diaspora world. If you ask him, he still is a humble mechanic. But the tales of the hulking (size 3) Lancaster known as the 'Oasis Major' crewed by a band of unruly marauders tells a different story.

mf-dooom

yetanothergreyjedi

that is the face of a man worried he will be next

ashtraythief

Good news, he was not next! In fact, she accepted him as her mate, he learned the crane mating dance and now every year, he artificially inseminates her with crane semen to expand the very endangered crane population. True story.

luulapants

Sorry, he WHAT? Imagine being this man's boss and having to sit him down like. Listen. Brian. We need you to fuck the bird. You have to act like you're excited about it.

whetstonefires

crane husband.....

roach-works

this is the diametric opposite of all those awful swan wife stories and i love it.

alex51324

(WalWaPo makes you jump through like three separate hoops before you can read the article, so I will share some of the highlights:

Walnut was born in a species-recovery breeding program in the 1980′s. The program had crane chicks hand-raised by human volunteers, and at that time they did not fully understand the measures necessary make sure that the chicks do not imprint on humans and retain their identity as cranes.

As a result, her keepers believe, Walnut does not recognize other cranes as members of her own species.

It has not been proven that Walnut killed her previous suitors; however, there is a persistent rumor in the white-naped-crane-conservation community that she did.

Because this species is highly endangered, and the gene pool of the captive population is small, it’s pretty important for the survival of her species that Walnut A) mate, and B) not kill a bunch of other cranes.

The actual name of the keeper is Chris Crowe.

They both arrived at the Smithsonian Conservation Biology Institute in 2004.

Walnut immediately began paying special attention to Chris--and ignoring the eligible male crane in a nearby enclosure.

Walnut initiated their courtship, performing the opening moves of a mating dance.

Chris realized that if he reciprocated the mating dance, it might be possible to artificially inseminate Walnut with her participation and consent. (The process normally involves restraining the bird.)

It worked!

Chris and Walnut have had five children, who were raised by other crane couples at the facility--sometimes the biological dad and his mate--both because it’s unclear whether Walnut would accept the chicks as her own, and because Chris is not equipped to be a Crane Dad.

However, the Institute provides her with artificial eggs to sit on, and Chris takes his turn looking after them. (This would not work with real eggs because he can’t sit on them properly, but Walnut seems to feel that he is on the job if he just stands over them.)

Chris accepts that he is pretty much married to this bird. White-naped cranes live to be about 60, and they mate for life, so he knows he can’t retire while Walnut is alive. (At the time of the article, Walnut was 36, and Chris 42.)

thesylverlining

Legit cannot pick the funniest part of this

she has not been PROVEN to have killed her exes, but there is a PERSISTENT RUMOR (really officers she's simply DEVASTATED, she sobs, wearing a new feather boa unfortunately resembling her most recent deceased husband)

His name is Chris CROWE. (Mrs. Walnut Crane-Crowe?)

the mental images of a whole human man learning and performing the crane mating dance, and "sitting" on artificial eggs so she thinks he's performing his duties as a husband and father (and apparently OBJECTS if he does not?)

"chris, buddy, you gotta marry the possibly-murderous crane lady for the GOOD OF THE SPECIES." (alternately: "chris, my man! good news! we found you a very interested lady! She's 36, she's very spirited and independent, she holds a very important and rare status in her society! ...Is there a downside? WELL...")

chris sits any potential human partners down, like "my love, you must understand before we wed,,, i am already... Attached" (camera drifts wistfully to the above photo) "Lady Walnut and I have an,, Understanding... the relationship is open, but very committed"

anais-ninja-bitch

just had to explain this post to my father bc he thought my stifled laughter was a signal of illness.

well done, everyone, good game. hit the showers.

largishcat

eshlimoriarty

lazorsandparadox

Not only is he 'married' to walnut, this has apparently happened SEVERAL times, so he has MULTIPLE crane wives, none of which know about any of his other crane wives. This man is, for some unknown reason, irresistible to cranes

queersatanic

the “this content has been removed for violating Tumblr’s Community Guidelines” notice really adds a lot of flavor to this post and somehow makes it MORE obscene than whatever that actually was

worldheritageposts-official

World Heritage Post

kedreeva

I regret being the bearer of bad news, but I thought it should be shared that Walnut passed away in January of this year (2024). There's a lot of mixed info about the lifespan of cranes (due to people misunderstanding what a median is...) but the average for most species I know of is 20-30 years (in the wild if nothing eats them/they don't die young), and 30-45 in captivity, with the oldest known white-naped crane having loved to be 46. Given that she was 42, this old gal did good, and I'm certain she will be missed by folks here.

optimysticals

Fly on forever Walnut Crane-Crowe

workingclasshistory

On this day, 25 July 1934, Nestor Makhno, leader of the Revolutionary Insurrectionary Army of Ukraine during the Russian revolution of 1917, died from tuberculosis, aged 44, in exile in Paris. In the 1917 revolution his militia, dubbed the Makhnovists, defeated the counter-revolutionary White armies of generals Denikin and Wrangel, redistributed land and power to the workers and peasants, provided arms to Jewish communities to defend themselves from pogroms, and executed antisemites. The Makhnovists were allied with the Red Army, but after the defeat of the Whites, the Red Army attacked them in order to consolidate Bolshevik control of Ukraine. The Makhnovists then fought against their previous allies, until they were eventually overrun by overwhelming military force, and Makhno himself had to flee the country. Learn more about Makhno's life and activism in this biography, No Harmless Power: The Life And Times Of The Ukrainian Anarchist Nestor Makhno by Charlie Allison: https://shop.workingclasshistory.com/products/no-harmless-power-the-life-and-times-of-the-ukrainian-anarchist-nestor-makhno-charlie-allison

resident-idiot-simp

blackshvck

the idea that every summer will be as hot if not hotter than this for the rest of my life is unbearable i need to (remembers suicide jokes are bad for my mental health) murder an oil executive

poems-from-the-hanging-garden

Which Direction’s Uptown?

You parked your car outside a broken down bar

And padded down the hill of cement

Where the elderly and school girls loiter

where my feet choose to place themselves

The wary smiles of 60 year olds drag you down

Everybody stares

But their business is their own

The tin man begging for oil on the sidewalk

You say “I’ll spare you the pain,

These people just take and take.

Audacious enough to ask:

‘What do u want from us?’

So I’ll take your aluminium to the junk traders”

You left your groceries in the back of my car

I'm too far down the road to look back

I fell down the elevator shaft

Of the Sylvia Park mall and now

Im stuck watching Reruns of English Sitcoms from 2005

When I saw your musky scented arms reach out to grab me,

I should’ve thanked you

But instead I’ll hold it against you

Because it's too late to phone you

But do you know the way downtown?

avatarofthearchives

This is Tim Stoker and Sasha James:

Conlanging has probably been one of the fav hobbies ive picked up over my life so far simply because of how its challenged a lot of how I think about whats normal for a language and all the varied ways different people speak and how they express things. BUT, man I wish it was an easier hobby to share to people lol, like with art, music, regular writing even, its a lot lower of a barrier to entry for someone outside to at least be like ''Wow that's really cool'' but like for conlanging? My mother is not going to understand why im so happy about how im handling my causative constructions this time LOL. Not gonna stop me hobbying ofc but just the tinniest of grievances with my choices in hobby lol.

It is, as the speakers of my fav con would say, kǒfan ai henme (Sand in eye).

#conlang #conlanging

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