PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Peter Solarz
Kaledo Art
if i look back, i am lost
No title available
dirt enthusiast
noise dept.
Misplaced Lens Cap
Today's Document
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
shark vs the universe
Three Goblin Art
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
NASA
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
JVL
izzy's playlists!
Acquired Stardust
oozey mess
RMH
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Greece
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from Canada
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
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seen from United States
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@ojoumushi
“After a thousand years of darkness, he will come, clad in blue and surrounded by fields of gold to restore mankind’s connection of the Earth that was destroyed.”
indie nausicaä / manga based / 5+ years muse exp / fandom & OC friendly / nav
Promotional poster for Manson International's 1985 English adaptation of Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, which was retitled as Warriors of the Wind and edited down from 117 minutes to 95 minutes.
Wow.. she has such a way with worms…
Meep.
Hayao Miyazaki - “One of my favourites, and I worked very hard on it. I never liked drawing standard heroine pictures of Nausicaa looking cheerful. I couldn’t draw her disconnected from the story. Nausicaa looking out of the picture and smiling just seemed wrong to me. When she’s alone, I always imagined her looking very unapproachable. Not because she was intimidating, but because of a quiet isolation, like she wasn’t part of her surroundings at all.”
i am EVIL!!! no I don't want to join your found family please go away,,
I'm literally pointing a death lazer at you
*sobs*
stop asking about my dad
when margaret atwood said “i'm sorry there is so much pain in this story” and richard siken said “there is no other version of this story” and mary oliver said “you don’t want to hear the story of my life, and anyway, i don’t want to tell it”
RELATIONSHIP BUILDING
Send ⭐️ (or multiple) for a headcanon about our muses. Send ☎ for your muse’s info in my muses phone (name, ringtone, picture, last text received/sent). Send 🎼 for a song that reminds me of our muses. Send 👋 for three things that describe our muses relationship. Send 👂 to overhear my muse talking about yours. Send 👤+ a muse name for my muse’s opinion on that muse (with the other muse/mun’s permission). Send 😍 for my muse to tell yours three things they love about them. Send 💤 for my muse to say something about yours in their sleep. Send 📖 for my muse to read out an entry in their journal/diary about yours. Send ✉ for a written letter from my muse. Send📱for a voicemail my muse left yours. Send 🌀 for my muse’s reaction to getting stuck in a storm with yours. Send 🍺 for my muses drunk reaction around yours. Send 💰 for your muse to ask mine for money. Send ✔️ for a daydream my muse has had about/involving yours. Send 👀 for my muse to compliment yours Send 💋 for how my muse would seduce/flirt with yours. Send 👏 and what your muse will do to fluster mine. Send 😙 for my muse’s reaction to yours being super affectionate. Send 🍵 and my muse will reveal one of their biggest regrets involving yours. Send 😶 and my muse will confess to something they wish they didn’t do that affected your muse.
Hey there good lookin ~ Won’t ya stop for a minute ? ? I’ve got something good for you, trust me. Your life isn’t complete without it, that’s right, Guts from Berserk. This big bad boy can give you all the feelings you need, so why don’t you give a plump squeeze on ♥ that or press that ↻ . I’ll pack this bad boy your way.
Though their reasons for wielding differ, Nausicaä and Casca both understand the importance of a good blade. One which a person can rely on, that they can use for what they believe right. For this reason she took great care in selecting her gift; a short but deadly blade, cut from the hardened shed shell of an ohmu. She presents it without grandeur, simply offering it with a smile.
The shadows that had befallen her heart began to show; they showed in the sickly grey of her skin, or the empty, black holes for eyes where a fire used to twinkle, and of course a pair of dark rings, imprinted deep into the flesh around those hopeless eyes. Weary movements lifted Casca from the chair she had crouched on, for many, countless hours, with a map and ink and a ragged hawk feather pen. The very same shadows even showed on the tinted, black fingertips that had smeared across the ink by accident. When lines blurred, and sleep threatened to overpower, and Casca didn’t even understand her own tactics anymore.
Her muscles ached under the effort of stretching. Joints cracked as though millions of years made them buckle, a hearty groan freeing at last some of the tension she had locked inside her lungs over the course of this day. The commander felt a little better now, although it took one single glance at the scattered parchment before her to numb her fleeting relief.
During all these hours, it felt as if she had gotten no-where at all.
Men outside of this tent perished by the hour, either of fatal wounds because they had been ambushed again, by illness or infection, or the rough elements of Midland’s winter. Casca, who so desperately worked through day and night to provide the faintest bits of hope for her vanishing band, felt like the ground that held her readied itself to pull the Hawks into the deepest pits of hell. Without the aid of a miracle, it was only a matter of time until they joined Griffith to burn for their many, many sins.
When Nausicaä entered the tent, she found Casca staring at nothing in particular. Her eyes were absent, and so was her heart. She ignored the ruffling of the heavy rugs, a makeshift door for a tent which also fell apart under the force of winter. There’s no hearth to warm up on, only a few, old candles Casca had lit to see what she’s reading and writing. It took the firm, yet gentle squeeze of a warm hand to startle her soul back into its vessel.
“Gut- “
It’s clear as daylight where her mind had lingered, although Casca would never admit so even at the risk of her own life. Feigning composure, the commander rose her own hand and covered Nausicaä’s. “It’s good to see you again, old friend.” Updates on the Hawk’s dire situation were exchanged briefly, although the other wouldn’t admit where she had spent the last couple of days. “I’ve not slept in a while. And I don’t know what to do.” Such shameful confessions never came easy to Casca, but her guards were long let down. “We move further away from Midland, yet keep running into stray troops. I’ve lost half of my men since the announcement of Griffith’s death. I try to give them hope, but I have no hope left for myself. Nausicaä, I don’t think…..”
Casca shushed mid-sentence when a long object, wrapped in embroidered linen, was offered to her. Nausicaä’s smile cut through the ice in her chest. For a moment, she would simply stare at her, then at the gift, and then back at her friend. “Take it, Casca. It’s for you.”
The object felt too light to be a sword, but proved to be exactly that, when the cloth fell and revealed its content. A weapon unlike any she has ever seen, and she saw many. It didn’t exceed in length, but as soon as her fingers grasped the handle, it almost merged into an extension of her arm. Casca knew right away that this blade wouldn’t restrict her agile style of fighting. Despite its lightness, the weapon promised endurance and precise, deadly strikes. As she did with any new sword, the warrior balanced and weighed it, and basked in the peculiar high usually triggered by a successful battle. She couldn’t wait to slay down her enemies with it.
For the first time in a while, her brown eyes lit up with a spark of fire they’ve lost in the last couple of weeks. Colour flushed her cheeks because she felt humbled to be given such a precious item. Tears glimmered at the corners of her eyes, not triggered by grief but a spark of hope Casca thought forever lost. She held on to the blade, but her free hand reached for Nausicaä’s arm, squeezing it gently. “Thank you. I- I am at a loss for words. I will put this blade to good use. I will defend my men with this, until we’re set free from the King’s wrath.” She huffed a raspy chuckle and even cracked a smile.
“I’ve nearly given up on any hope for us. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for bringing a little piece of it back.”
I'm really not a very angry person there's just a lot of rage inside me
There's something terrible boiling bubbling under my skin ready to burst out of my chest but I'm a chill guy
Kushana from Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind!
Thinking about that bit in the manga after Nau’s battle alongside Kushana where she says- ACTUALLY I THINK I HAVE THAT PANEL RN.
SOBBING CRYING she can’t even give herself time to grieve for the people who died for her even though she tried her hardest to avoid it ;w;
The thing I’m most afraid of is me. Of not knowing what I’m going to do. Of not knowing what I’m doing right now.
Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 (via thoughtkick)
During a lecture on epic poetry like the Mahābhārata and Iliad in my first year of college, my professor said, “When the whole world dies, even when brick and mortar is destroyed, memory survives. It survives and lives on in generations to come. And literature carries that memory. All your geography, your economics, your psychology, they’re all based on the memory of man, passed down generations after generations. These epic poems and literature we are studying right now is to remind us that we too will be memories one day. And therefore, let us be good memories” and I think a piece of this lecture will live on in me wherever I go.
oceanchcse:
‘ I told you – the OCEAN is alive and kicking, It’s beautiful don’t you think? ‘
Nausicaä can barely believe it. An ocean teeming with life! The seas that coast the Valley of Wind are barren by comparison, damaged irrevocably by the wars of old.
“I do! It’s wonderful, Moana. Tell me, do fish live in this ocean, as they do in rivers?” Tales of such things are twisted by time, rendering them folklore in her land.
