Crazy shit goes down in South America
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@cedefaci
Crazy shit goes down in South America
It would be fun to learn a new language to the point that I could hone a specific manner of speech. Like being able to consciously choose a style to speak in and focus on mastering it, to the bafflement of native speakers. Like what if I want to learn Spanish, but specifically in a mixture of very formal, old-fashioned 1850s-ass language and wildly poetic, dramatic and romantic phrasings and figures of speech.
I want to be able to just casually say shit like "it is not only a fruitless effort to try to fight against my own nature, but I find that seeking to do so is a downright sin" before picking up and drinking from the For Dogs Only water bowl on the street in front of a tourist pub.
Every* Type of Kaiju
*Not Actually Every Type.
Ay it's the sequel. This was always meant to be 2 parts of a whole, since Kaiju and Mecha as genres have been pretty interconnected.
Once again, this just goes over common tropes I've personally found in kaiju design, but feel free to tell me which types I may have missed. Once again, tell me your favourites down below
[And in case you missed it: the previous chart cataloguing Mecha instead!]
🐯 🐯 🐯
good morning everyone have an absolutely furious mongoose
It’s cuter when you recognize that the lion with visible spots is a juvenile. There’s a very high chance the other lion that runs over to investigate is the MOTHER.
The first lion is asking for comfort because she was given a big spook!!! and she needs mommy to tell her it’s safe and ok!!!! (What’s cuter is that mommy clearly reassures her, and goes on to take the parent role of ‘deal with the scream rat in order to protect my large and easily frightened daughter’)
this is all in all an adorable video 10/10
actually you’re completely right that the original lion is a juvenile, but it’s a male! his size and the fact that he still has some baby spots left also indicate that he’s a very YOUNG juvenile, equivalent to a human preteen!
so really what’s happening here is a fantastic mother dashing outside with a broom to defend her 13-year-old son from the angry opossum that he just found in the trash can while taking out the garbage.
And quite clearly neither know what to do, really.
I love how mom looks into the camera like “are you SEEING this shit?????”
House of Atreus Bhaal
Jan Kott, Hamlet and Orestes, tr. Bolesław Taborski / Aeschylus, Agamemnon, tr. Anne Carson / Tracy K. Smith, Ash / Ana Mendieta, Body Tracks / Adriana Varejão, Green Tilework in Live Flesh / Richard Wagner, Persifal, produced by François Girard / @filmnoirsbian, Why Am I Haunted? / @filmnoirsbian, [6 ways to draw a circle on wikihow] / @jrgdrawing-real / Richard Siken, Real Estate
Fascist, Thus Inefficient
“As you can see, my young apprentice, your friends have failed,” the Emperor said, triumph in his tone. “Now, witness the firepower of this fully armed and operational battle station!”
Luke looked at him in shock.
“Fire at will, Commander!” the Emperor said.
Fourteen months previously…
Scolopendra Miku
buongiornissimo cattè
This kid was channeling a 60-year-old court eunuch from three thousand years ago
i think women should get into polearms in a big way. not a lot of women in polearms these days. would love to see women doing battle with polearms.
So many sword women and yet so few appreciating the humble spear…
The devastating cavalry lance…
The imposing berdiche…
The zone-denying pike…
The elegant naginata…
The unforgettable glaive…
The ji, partner in combined arms…
Or the artful halberd…
Gokudera, lighting up a cigarette on the street, having it immediately ripped out of his fingers by a passing stranger wearing five hidden knives and a gun.
The stranger, before disappearing back into the crowd: "Sawada has enough shit trying to kill him without his Right Hand breathing cancer at him!"
Gokudera -- who grew up under ninth-generation rule -- staring at his empty hand mournfully: "I can't believe I'm being targeted by the mafia to stop doing drugs."
Tsuna is kind. Tsuna is compassionate. Tsuna, unlike many bosses, does not see himself as more than simply because of his station.
The only people who are capable of bringing out the entitled, spoiled, possessive Mafia Prince - the tiny piece of Tsuna's heart that is a stereotypically behaved Vongolian Sky - are his closest family. And even then, they can only manage it in very specific circumstances.
Allow me to clarify:
Imagine Tsuna, in a café filled with rubble and smoke, looking down at Hayato's fallen form. He stares at the blood seeping out from Hayato's chest - the chest that was torn open when Hayato jumped in front of a bullet meant for Tsuna.
(The assassin's corpse is cooling on the other side of the room, dead too late at the edge of Takeshi's blade.)
Tsuna keeps his eyes locked on Hayato. Hayato, who lies limp and motionless, no matter how much sun flame Ryouhei pumps in to him.
It feels like a dream. It feels fake. He feels detached from it all, like he's watching the world from far above and emotions can only reach him after traveling through a mile of cotton.
"Move," he tells his sun, his dying will flaring in the midst of his strange numbness.
His sun yanks his hands back, as instantaneously as if he were following a reflex instead of words.
Tsuna surveys the scene for another second, still through that mile of cotton, and then decides, "No. No, I refuse."
And, after all, does he not have a right to? He, the holder of the Vongola Sky Ring, the Guard of the Vertical Axis, the Sky of Skies. Is it not his birthright to seize hold of, to command, the threads of time?
He reaches out, burning, and undoes it.
An orange glow erupts around the two of them - his Hayato, and the assassin.
And then there is the assassin, alive again, aiming at a spot Tsuna is no longer at.
And there is Hayato, alive again, throwing himself to protect where Tsuna once stood.
Tsuna already has an arm raised, and sends a blast of power at the assassin. The assassin crumples. And then Tsuna is turning around, spinning towards Hayato, and he feels, within him, a hot, violent rage swell up. How dare he. How dare he.
He stalks over to his Right Hand, hands shaking with anger, and he spits, "You."
His Right Hand looks at him, all wide-eyed and taken off guard. As if he's not a fucking thief.
Tsuna snarls up at him, right up in his space, "Sit."
His Right Hand's knees fold. He just barely manages to catch himself against the table directly behind him, and it's not so much sitting as propping himself up, but Tsuna doesn't fucking care.
Tsuna's fists clench, and he stares directly into those green, green eyes. "You," he seethes, "took an oath, Gokudera Hayato." He feels himself burning, dying will an inferno on his skin. "You swore yourself to me, yes? Your life is mine. You do not have the right to take it from me."
His Right Hand, his storm, his Hayato, says nothing, eyes wide and face pale and lips parted ever so slightly in shock.
Tsuna feels incandescent with rage. "You dare-"
And then he finds himself losing the words, swaying in place as exhaustion slams down across him.
The last thing he feels is Hayato's arms coming up around him, warm and alive and oh so gentle, and the last thing he hears is Takeshi, saying - absolutely delighted, Tsuna knows that tone - "Oh, he is going to be so embarrassed when he wakes up."
And then darkness.
A pride of lions in Serengeti National Park, Tanzania photographed by Daniel Rosengren