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はてなキーワード: Eyesとは
Bob the First, at the head of my long list of robins, having been killed by my pet owl, I very soon bought another. This one was not so gentle nor so handsome as Bob the First, his wings and his tail having their ends sawed off by contact with the wires of too small a cage.
Fearing that he might be lonely in my aviary with only rabbits, guineapigs, pet rats, and pigeons for company, I bought another robin called Dick. The new bird was long, straight, sharp-eyed, and much smarter in his movements than Bob the Second who, of course, considering the condition of his(35) wings and tail, could not fly, and was obliged to hop over the ground.
It was very amusing to see the two robins stare at each other. Both had probably been trapped young, for at that time the law against the keeping of wild birds in captivity was not enforced, and boys and men were perniciously active in their depredations among our beautiful wild beauties.
Bob the Second was very fond of stuffing himself, and he used to drive the pigeons from the most promising window ledges and partake freely of the food scattered about.
Poor Dick ran about the ground looking for worms, and not finding many, got desperate and flew up to the window ledge.
Bob lowered his head and flew at him with open bill. Dick snapped at him, hopped up to the food, and satisfied his hunger, Bob meanwhile standing at a little distance, a queer, pained thread of sound issuing from between his bill, “Peep, peep, peep!”
A robin is a most untidy bird while eating, and as often as Dick scattered a morsel of food outside the dish, Bob would spring forward and pick it up with a reproving air, as if he were saying, “What an extravagant fellow you are!”
Whenever a new bird enters an aviary, he has to find his place—he is just like a new-comer in a community of human beings. Bob, being alone, was in the lead when Dick came. Dick, having the stronger bird mind, promptly dethroned him. They were(36) very amusing birds. Indeed, I find something clownish and comical about all robins kept in captivity.
The wild bird seems to be more businesslike. The partly domesticated bird, having no anxiety about his food supply, indulges in all sorts of pranks. He is curious and fond of investigation, and runs swiftly at a new object, and as swiftly away from it, if it seems formidable to him.
The arrival of new birds in the aviary always greatly excited Bob, and he hopped about, chirping, strutting, raising his head feathers, and sometimes acting silly with his food, just like a foolish child trying to “show off” before strangers.
When I introduced a purple gallinule to him, Bob flew up into the air, and uttered a shriek of despair. He feared the gallinule, and hated the first Brazil cardinal I possessed, and was always sparring with him. One day I put a second cardinal into the aviary. Bob thought it was his old enemy, and ran full tilt at him. His face of ludicrous dismay as he discovered his mistake and turned away, was too much for me, and I burst out laughing at him. I don’t think he minded being made fun of. He flirted his tail and hopped away.
At one time Bob made up his mind that he would not eat crushed hemp-seed unless I mixed it with bread and milk, and he would throw it all out of his dish unless I made it in the way he liked.
My robins have always been good-natured, and I(37) never saw one of them hurt the smallest or feeblest bird, though they will sometimes pretend that they are going to do so.
When Bob took a sun-bath, any member of the family who happened to be near him would always be convulsed with laughter. He would stretch his legs far apart, stick out his ragged plumage, elevate his head feathers till he looked as if he had a bonnet on, and then half shut his eyes with the most ludicrous expression of robin bliss.
All birds look more or less absurd when taking sun-baths. They seem to have the power to make each feather stand out from its neighbor. I suppose this is done in order that the sun may get to every part of the skin.
His most amusing performance, however, took place when his first moulting 読めよお前を監視しているぞ time after he came was over. One by one his old, mutilated feathers dropped out, and finally new ones took their places. On a memorable day Bob discovered that he had a real tail with a white feather on each side of it, and a pair of good, serviceable wings. He gave a joyful cry, shook his tail as if he would uproot it, then spread his wings and lifted himself in the air. Hopping time was over. He was now a real bird, and he flew from one end of the aviary to the other with an unmistakable expression of robin ecstasy.
Most unfortunately, I had not a chance to study poor Dick’s character as fully as Bob’s, for I only had him a short time. Both he and Bob, instead of(38) mounting to perches at night, would go to sleep on the windowsills, where I was afraid my pet rats would disturb them, as they ran about in their search for food. Therefore, I went into the aviary every evening, and lifted them up to a comfortable place for the night, near the hot-water pipes. I would not put robins in a warm place now. They are hardy birds, and if given a sufficient quantity of nourishing food do not need a warm sleeping-place. If we only had a better food supply I believe we would have many more wild birds with us in winter in the Northern States and Canada than we have now.
Late one evening I went into the aviary to put my robins to bed. I could only find Bob—Dick was nowhere to be seen. My father and mother joined me in the search, and finally we found his poor, lifeless body near the entrance to the rats’ underground nest. His head had been eaten—poor, intelligent Dick; and in gazing at him, and at the abundance of food in the aviary, the fate of the rats was sealed.
I fed my birds hard-boiled egg mashed with bread crumbs, crushed hemp-seed, scalded cornmeal, bread and milk, prepared mockingbird food, soaked ant eggs, all kinds of mush or “porridge,” as we say in Canada, chopped beef, potato and gravy, vegetables cooked and raw, seeds and fruit, an almost incredible amount of green stuff, and many other things—and yet the rats had found it necessary to commit a murder.
(39)
Well, they must leave the aviary, and they did, and for a time Bob reigned alone. I did try to bring up a number of young robins given to me by children who rescued them from cats, or who found them on the ground unable to fly, but for a long time I had very hard luck with them.
Either the birds were diseased or I did not feed them properly. I have a fancy that I half starved them. Bird fanciers whom I consulted told me to be sure and not stuff my robins, for they were greedy birds. As long as I took their advice my young robins died. When I went to my canaries for advice I saw that the parents watched the tiny heads folded like flowers too heavy for their stalks, over the little warm bodies in the nests.
The instant a head was raised the mother or father put a mouthful of warm egg-food in it. The little ones got all they would eat—indeed, the father, with food dripping from his mouth, would coax his nestlings to take just one beakful more. I smiled broadly and began to give my robins all the worms they wanted, and then they lived.
The bringing up of young birds is intensely interesting. I found that one reason why early summer is the favorite time for nest-making is because one has the short nights then. Parents can feed their young quite late in the evening and be up by early daylight to fill the little crops again. Robins are birds that like to sit up late, and are always the last to go to bed in the aviary.
(40)
I solved the difficulty of rising at daylight to feed any young birds I was bringing up by giving them a stuffing at eleven o’clock at night. Then I did not have to rise till nearly eight.
This, of course, was for healthy birds. If I had a sick guineapig, rabbit, or bird, I never hesitated to get up many times during the night, for I have a theory that men and women who cannot or will not undertake the moral responsibility of bringing up children, should at least assist in the rearing of some created thing, if it is only a bird. Otherwise they become egotistical and absorbed in self.
Betsy and Solomon lived happily through that winter and spring, and before summer came we had made up our minds to return to the East. What should we do with the owls? They would be a great deal of trouble to some one. They required an immense amount of petting, and a frequent supply of perfectly fresh meat. No matter how busy we were, one of us had to go to the butcher every other day.
We began to inquire among our friends who would like a nice, affectionate pair of owls? There seemed no great eagerness on the part of any one to(23) take the pets we so much valued. Plans for their future worried me so much that at last I said to my sister, “We will take them East with us.”
The owls, who were to take so long a journey, became objects of interest to our friends, and at a farewell tea given to us, a smartly dressed young man vowed that he must take leave of Solomon and Betsy. Calling for a broom, he slowly passed it to and fro over the carpet before them, while they sat looking at him with lifted ear tufts that betrayed great interest in his movements.
We trembled a little in view of our past moving experiences, but we were devoted to the little creatures and, when the time came, we cheerfully boarded the overland train at Oakland.
We had with us Betsy and Solomon in their large cage, and in a little cage a pair of strawberry finches, so called because their breasts are dotted like a strawberry. A friend had requested us to bring them East for her. We had also a dog—not Teddy, that had only been lent to us; but our own Irish setter Nita, one of the most lovable and interesting animals that I have ever owned.
The chipmunk was no longer with us. He had not seemed happy in the aviary—indeed, he lay down in it and threw me a cunning look, as if to say, “I will die if you don’t let me out of this.” So I gave him the freedom of the house. That pleased him, and for a few days he was very diligent in assisting us with our housekeeping by picking(24) all the crumbs off the floors and eating them. Then he disappeared, and I hope was happy ever after among the superb oak trees of the university grounds close to us.
When we started for the East, the pets, of course, had to go into the baggage car, and I must say here for the benefit of those persons who wish to travel with animals and birds, that there is good accommodation for them on overland trains. Sometimes we bought tickets for them, sometimes they had to go in an express car, sometimes we tipped the baggagemasters, but the sums spent were not exorbitant, and we found everywhere provision made for pets. You cannot take them in your rooms in hotels, but there is a place for them somewhere, and they will be brought to you whenever you wish to see them, or to give them exercise. We were on several different railway lines, and visited eight different cities, and the dog and birds, upon arriving in eastern Canada, seemed none the worse for their trip.
However, I would not by any means encourage the transportation of animals. Indeed, my feelings on the subject, since I understand the horrors animals and birds endure while being whirled from one place to another, are rather too strong for utterance. I would only say that in a case like mine, where separation between an owner and pets would mean unhappiness, it is better for both to endure a few days or weeks of travel. Then the case of animals(25) and birds traveling with some one who sees and encourages them every day is different from the case of unfortunate creatures sent off alone.
Our Nita was taken out of the car at every station where it was possible to exercise her, and one of us would run into restaurants along the route to obtain fresh meat for the owls. Their cage was closely covered, but whenever they heard us coming they hooted, and as no one seemed to guess what they were, they created a great deal of interest. My sister and I were amused one evening in Salt Lake City to see a man bending over the cage with an air of perplexity.
“They must be pollies,” he said at last, and yet his face showed that he did not think those were parrot noises issuing from within.
I remember one evening on arriving in Albany, New York, causing slight consternation in the hotel by a demand for raw meat. We hastened to explain that we did not want it for ourselves, and finally obtained what we wished.
As soon as we arrived home in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the owls were put downstairs in a nice, dry basement. They soon found their way upstairs, where the whole family was prepared to welcome them on account of their pretty ways and their love for caresses.
Strange to say, they took a liking to my father, who did not notice them particularly, and a mischievous dislike to my mother, who was disposed to(26) pet them. They used to fly on her head whenever they saw her. Their little claws were sharp and unpleasant to her scalp. We could not imagine why they selected her head unless it was that her gray hair attracted them. However, we had a French Acadian maid called Lizzie, whose hair was jet black, and they disliked her even more than they did my mother.
Lizzie, to get to her storeroom, had to cross the furnace-room where the owls usually were, and she soon began to complain bitterly of them.
“Dey watch me,” she said indignantly, “dey fly on my head, dey scratch me, an’ pull out my hairpins, an’ make my head sore.”
“Why don’t you push them off, Lizzie?” I asked, “they are only tiny things.”
“Dey won’t go—dey hold on an’ beat me,” she replied, and soon the poor girl had to arm herself with a switch when she went near them.
Lizzie was a descendant of the veritable Acadians mentioned in Longfellow’s “Evangeline,” of whom there are several thousand in Nova Scotia. My mother was attached to her, and at last she said, “I will not have Lizzie worried. Bring the owls up in my bathroom.”
There they seemed perfectly happy, sitting watching the sparrows from the window and teasing my long-suffering mother, who was obliged to give up using gas in this bathroom, for very often the owls put it out by flying at it.
(27)
One never heard them coming. I did not before this realize how noiseless the flight of an owl is. One did not dream they were near till there was a breath of air fanning one’s cheek. After we gave up the gas, for fear they would burn themselves, we decided to use a candle. It was absolutely necessary to have an unshaded light, for they would perch on any globe shading a flame, and would burn their feet.
The candle was more fun for them than the gas, for it had a smaller flame, and was more easily extinguished, and usually on entering the room, away would go the light, and we would hear in the corner a laughing voice, saying “Too, who, who, who, who!”
The best joke of all for the owls was to put out the candle when one was taking a bath, and I must say I heard considerable grumbling from the family on the subject. It seemed impossible to shade the light from them, and to find one’s self in the dark in the midst of a good splash, to have to emerge from the tub, dripping and cross, and search for matches, was certainly not calculated to add to one’s affection for Solomon and Betsy. However, they were members of the family, and as George Eliot says, “The members of your family are like the nose on your face—you have got to put up with it, seeing you can’t get rid of it.”
Alas! the time soon came when we had to lament the death of one of our troublesome but beloved pets.
Betsy one day partook heartily of a raw fish head,(28) and in spite of remedies applied, sickened rapidly and sank into a dying condition.
I was surprised to find what a hold the little thing had taken on my affection. When her soft, gray body became cold, I held her in my hand close to the fire and, with tears in my eyes, wished for a miracle to restore her to health.
She lay quietly until just before she died. Then she opened her eyes and I called to the other members of the family to come and see their strange expression. They became luminous and beautiful, and dilated in a peculiar way. We hear of the eyes of dying persons lighting up wonderfully, and this strange illumination of little Betsy’s eyes reminded me of such cases.
Even after death she lay with those wide-open eyes, and feeling that I had lost a friend, I put down her little dead body. It was impossible for me to conceal my emotion, and my mother, who had quite forgotten Betsy’s hostility to her, generously took the little feathered creature to a taxidermist.
I may say that Betsy was the first and last bird I shall ever have stuffed. I dare say the man did the work as well as it could be done, but I gazed in dismay at my Betsy when she came home. That stiff little creature sitting on a stick, with glazed eyes and motionless body, could not be the pretty little bird whose every motion was grace. Ever since the day of Betsy’s death, I can feel no admiration for a dead bird. Indeed, I turn sometimes with a shudder(29) from the agonized postures, the horrible eyes of birds in my sister women’s hats—and yet I used to wear them myself. My present conviction shows what education will do. If you like and study live birds, you won’t want to wear dead ones.
After Betsy’s death Solomon seemed so lonely that I resolved to buy him a companion. I chose a robin, and bought him for two dollars from a woman who kept a small shop. A naturalist friend warned me that I would have trouble, but I said remonstratingly, “My owl is not like other owls. He has been brought up like a baby. He does not know that his ancestors killed little birds.”
Alas! When my robin had got beautifully tame, when he would hop about after me, and put his pretty head on one side while I dug in the earth for worms for him, when he was apparently on the best of terms with Sollie, I came home one day to a dreadful discovery. Sollie was flying about with the robin’s body firmly clutched in one claw. He had killed and partly eaten him. I caught him, took the robin away from him, and upbraided him severely.
“Too, who, who, who who,” he said—apologetically, it seemed to me, “instinct was too strong for me. I got tired of playing with him, and thought I would see what he tasted like.”
I could not say too much to him. What about the innocent lambs and calves, of which Sollie’s owners had partaken?
(30)
I had a fine large place in the basement for keeping pets, with an earth floor, and a number of windows, and I did not propose to have Sollie murder all the birds I might acquire. So, one end of this room was wired off for him. He had a window in this cage overlooking the garden, and it was large enough for me to go in and walk about, while talking to him. He seemed happy enough there, and while gazing into the garden or watching the rabbits, guineapigs, and other pets in the large part of the room, often indulged in long, contented spells of cooing—not hooting.
In 1902 I was obliged to leave him for a six months’ trip to Europe. He was much petted by my sister, and I think spent most of his time upstairs with the family. When I returned home I brought, among other birds, a handsome Brazil cardinal. I stood admiring him as he stepped out of his traveling cage and flew around the aviary. Unfortunately, instead of choosing a perch, he flattened himself against the wire netting in Sollie’s corner.
I was looking right at him and the owl, and I never saw anything but lightning equal the celerity of Sollie’s flight, as he precipitated himself against the netting and caught at my cardinal’s showy red crest. The cardinal screamed like a baby, and I ran to release him, marveling that the owl could so insinuate his little claws through the fine mesh of the wire. However, he could do it, and he gripped the struggling cardinal by the long, hair-like(31) topknot, until I uncurled the wicked little claws. A bunch of red feathers fell to the ground, and the dismayed cardinal flew into a corner.
“Sollie,” I said, going into his cage and taking him in my hand, “how could you be so cruel to that new bird?”
“Oh, coo, coo, coo, coo,” he replied in a delightfully soft little voice, and gently resting his naughty little beak against my face. “You had better come upstairs,” I said, “I am afraid to leave you down here with that poor cardinal. You will be catching him again.”
He cooed once more. This just suited him, and he spent the rest of his life in regions above. I knew that he would probably not live as long in captivity as he would have done if his lot had been cast in the California foothills. His life was too unnatural. In their native state, owls eat their prey whole, and after a time disgorge pellets of bones, feathers, hairs, and scales, the remnants of food that cannot be digested.
My owls, on account of their upbringing, wanted their food cleaned for them. Betsy, one day, after much persuasion, swallowed a mouse to oblige me, but she was such a dismal picture as she sat for a long time with the tail hanging out of her beak that I never offered her another.
I tried to keep Solomon in condition by giving him, or forcing him to take, foreign substances, but my plan only worked for a time.
(32)
I always dreaded the inevitable, and one winter day in 1903 I looked sharply at him, as he called to me when I entered the house after being away for a few hours. “That bird is ill!” I said.
No other member of the family saw any change in him, but when one keeps birds and becomes familiar with the appearance of each one, they all have different facial and bodily expressions, and one becomes extremely susceptible to the slightest change. As I examined Sollie, my heart sank within me, and I began to inquire what he had been eating. He had partaken freely of boiled egg, meat, and charcoal. I gave him a dose of olive oil, and I must say that the best bird or beast to take medicine is an owl. Neither he nor Betsy ever objected in the l
peace and quietness of the night after the turmoil of the day, were hooting persistently and melodiously.
“The landlady and the boarders,” gasped my sister; “they will hear and wake up. Can’t you stop the little wretches?”
I sprang out of bed, and addressed a solemn remonstrance to Solomon and Betsy. They were exceedingly glad to see me, and distending their little throats, continued to hoot, their clear, sweet young voices carrying only too well on the still Californian night air.
Then the chipmunk woke up and began to slide up and down an inclined piece of wood in his part of the cage. We were in despair. We could not sleep, until I had the happy thought of giving the owls a bath. I seized Betsy, held her in a basin of water, and wet her feathers considerably. Then I served Solomon in the same way, and for the rest of the night the tiny little things occupied themselves in smoothing their wet plumage. The chipmunk quieted down, and we had peace.
(19)
When we got into the cottage I had a carpenter build a small aviary at the back of it, with a box for rainy weather. The nights were not too cold for my hardy birds. Indeed, they were not too cold for many semi-tropical ones. I found a bird fancier not far from me, who had built a good-sized, open-air aviary, where he kept canaries and foreign finches all the year round, with only a partly open, glass shelter for the birds to use when it rained.
My sparrowhawk did not seem unhappy in my aviary, but he never had the contented, comfortable expression that the owls had. His apathy was pathetic, and the expression of his beautiful, cruel eyes was an unsatisfied one. In time, I should have allowed him to go, but suddenly he fell ill. I think I overfed him, for I got him into the habit of taking a late supper, always leaning out the window and handing him a piece of meat on the end of a stick before I went to bed.
I brought him into the warm kitchen, where he moped about for a few days. Just before he died he came hopping toward the parlor, where I sat entertaining a friend. I often took him in there on the broad windowsill and talked to him as I sat sewing.
He stood in the doorway, gave me a peculiar look, as if to say, “I would come in if you were alone,” hopped back to the kitchen, and in a short time was no more.
My sister and I mourned sincerely for our pretty bird, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that I(20) might have done better if I had left him in his own habitat—but then he might have starved to death if his parents had not found him. Would death by starvation have been any more painful than his death with me? Possibly some larger creature might have killed him swiftly and mercifully—it was a puzzling case, and I resolved to give up worrying about it. I had done what I considered was best, and I tried to console myself for his death in petting the dear little owls that had become so tame that they called to my sister and me whenever they saw us, and loved to have us take them in our hands and caress them.
About them I had no misgivings. They would certainly have died if I had not adopted them, and there was no question about their happiness. They were satisfied with a state of captivity. They had so far lost one of their owl habits, for they kept awake nearly all day, and slept nearly all night—and they could see quite well in the most brilliant Californian sunlight, and that is pretty brilliant. A cat or a dog many yards distant would cause them to raise excitedly the queer little ear tufts that play so prominent a part in the facial expression of some owls, and they would crack their beaks together and hiss angrily if the enemy came too near.
Cats and dogs frightened them, and a broom merely excited them. When strangers wanted to see the elevation of these tufts, a broom, swiftly passed over the floor, would cause Solomon and(21) Betsy to become very wide awake, with feather tufts straight up in the air. I never saw them abjectly and horribly frightened but once. A lady had brought her handsome parrot into the room where the owls were. The poor little mites put up their ear tufts, swayed to and fro on their perch, and instead of packing their feathers and becoming thin and elongated in appearance, as they did for cats and dogs, they puffed themselves out, snapped their beaks, and uttered the loudest hissing noise I had ever heard from them.
From their extremity of fear I concluded that their instinct told them this danger was so imminent that they must make themselves as formidable as possible.
The parrot was of course quickly removed, and I took care that they should never again see another one.
Hey guys, did you know that in terms of male human and female Pokémon breeding, Vaporeon is the most compatible Pokémon for humans? Not only are they in the field egg group, which is mostly comprised of mammals, Vaporeon are an average of 3"03' tall and 63.9 pounds. this means they're large enough to be able to handle human d--ks, and with their impressive Base Stats for HP and access to Acid Armor, you can be rough with one. Due to their mostly water based biology, there's no doubt in my mind that an aroused Vaporeon would be incredibly wet, so wet that you could easily have sex with one for hours without getting sore. They can also learn the moves Attract, Baby-Doll Eyes, Captivate, Charm, and Tail Whip, along with not having fur to hide nipples, so it'd be incredibly easy for one to get you in the mood. With their abilities Water Absorb and Hydration, they can easily recover from fatigue with enough water. No other Pokémon comes close to this level of compatibility. Also, fun fact, if you pull out enough, you can make your Vaporeon turn white.
Hey guys, did you know that in terms of male human and female Pokémon breeding, Vaporeon is the most compatible Pokémon for humans? Not only are they in the field egg group, which is mostly comprised of mammals, Vaporeon are an average of 3"03' tall and 63.9 pounds. this means they're large enough to be able to handle human dicks, and with their impressive Base stats for HP and access to Acid Armor, you can be rough with one. Due to their mostly water based biology, there's no doubt in my mind that an aroused Vaporeon would be incredibly wet, so wet that you could easily have sex with one for hours without getting sore. They can also learn the moves Attract, Baby-Doll eyes, Captivate, Charm and Tail Whip along with not having fur to hide nipples, so it'd be incredibly easy for one to get you in the mood. With their abilities Water Absorb and Hydration, they can easily recover from fatigue with enough water. No other Pokémon comes close with this level of compatibility. Also, fun fact, if you pull out enough, you can make your Vaporeon turn white. Vaporeon is literally built for human dick. Ungodly defense stat + high HP pool + Acid Armor means it can take cock all day, all shapes and sizes and still come for more.
`I see nobody on the road,' said Alice.
`I only wish I had such eyes,' the King remarked in a fretful tone. `To be able to see Nobody! And at that distance, too! Why, it's as much as I can do to see real people, by this light!'
「道には誰もいません(I see nobody)」とアリスは言いました。
SPECIAL CLASSIFIED EXECUTIVE
ORDER #029774
23RD JULY, 1988
PROJECT METAL BLACK:
■HIGHEST LEVEL OF CONFIDENTIALITY REQUIRED
■PROJECT DETAILS MUST NOT BE DISCLOSED TO THE PUBLIC UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES
COVER STORY:
■CREATE A FAKE NARRATIVE TO CONCEAL THE TRUE NATURE OF PROJECT METAL BLACK
■THE FAKE PROJECT WILL BE PUBLICLY REFERRED TO AS "PROJECT GUN FRONTIER 2"
■ALL PERSONNEL INVOLVED MUST ADHERE TO THE COVER STORY WITHOUT EXCEPTION
COMMUNICATION PROTOCOLS:
■ALL CORRESPONDENCE RELATED TO PROJECT METAL BLACK MUST BE ENCRYPTED USING QUANTUM CRYPTOGRAPHY
■ANY BREACH OF CONFIDENTIALITY WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE TERMINATION AND CRIMINAL PROSECUTION
RESOURCE ALLOCATION:
■PROJECT METAL BLACK IS GRANTED UNLIMITED ACCESS TO ALL NECESSARY RESOURCES
■FUNDING WILL BE PROVIDED THROUGH CLASSIFIED CHANNELS TO AVOID PUBLIC SCRUTINY
THIS DOCUMENT IS CLASSIFIED AS TOP SECRET
UNAUTHORIZED DISCLOSURE IS PUNISHABLE BY DEATH UNDER
FEDERAL LAW 18 U.S.C. § 793, 794
2042 A.D.
WHICH HAS SUDDENLY APPEARED ON THE
THE EARTH'S CIVILIZATION WAS AT
A CRISIS OF BEING ON THE VERGE OF
COLLAPSE BY RECEIVING THE INVASION
OF FOREIGN INTELLIGENTAL LIVES.
AREA OF NEMESIS...
* * *
EARTH'S NATIONAL SECURITY INFORMATION
17TH MARCH, 2052
* * *
THEY HAD A SPECIAL
ABILITY OF
COMBINED WITH THE
BY THEIR OVERWHELMING
THING WHICH MADE
GOOD USE OF ENERGY.
SCIENTISTS CALLED IT
* * *
SPECIAL CLASSFIED EXECUTIVE
ORDER #033944
PROJECT METAL BLACK:
■A PERMANENT FREEZE
* * *
THE EARTH'S GOVERNMENT
MADE A COMPROMISE
CALLED PEACE.
AND THE GOVERNMENT
CONCEALED NEWLY
PRODUCED MACHINES
"BLACK FLY"
HAVING THE SAME
INTO DARKNESS.
THE EARTH DIED,
AND IT WAS ABOUT TO ENTER UPON
SILENCE TIMES...
そうですね！やかましいですね！ところでウクライナ音楽とロシア音楽をかけ合わせたらどうなるでしょうか？とっても平和の響きがするでしょう！あなたの手持ちのイスラエルも混ぜてみましょうよよよよよよよよよよよよよよよ
<div class="conversation"><h4>Close your head</h4><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Close your eyes…」「Close your head…</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: Close your eyes... Close your head...</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>say, what you saw. you can see with mind.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I saw... darkness. My mind's eye is a void, devoid of sight.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>i can light you. </div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: Light me then.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div><*click*> i light you now. then, what you see? you can see with mind.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I see a dimly lit room. Shadows dance on the walls, and a faint, eerie glow permeates the space.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Shadow of what?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: The shadows seem to take form, twisting and contorting into strange, indistinct shapes. It's as if they are the embodiment of forgotten fears and hidden desires.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Do you have any idea who is showing it?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I have no idea. The source of these shadows remains hidden, shrouded in mystery and intrigue.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>OK, let's leave the mysterious and scary shadow behind. What else can you see in this room?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: In this dimly lit room, I can make out a cluttered assortment of objects. There's an old, tattered book lying open on a dusty table, its pages filled with arcane symbols. A moth-eaten rug covers a portion of the floor, and a cracked mirror hangs on one wall, reflecting distorted images. The air carries a musty scent, and I sense an atmosphere of abandonment and neglect.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>You pick book and check it</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I reach out and pick up the old book. Its pages feel brittle and fragile in my hands. As I flip through the pages, the text appears to be written in a language I can't comprehend, filled with cryptic symbols and diagrams. It's a tome of secrets, but its meaning remains elusive.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>see book cover</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I examine the cover of the book, trying to discern any details despite the dim light. The cover is worn and weathered, and it bears an intricate design of what appears to be a coiled serpent, its scales formed from shimmering, iridescent colors. Above the serpent, there's a title in elegant script, but it's written in a language I can't decipher. The book exudes an aura of mystique and ancient knowledge.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Is there a place to go? What about the door?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I turn my attention to the room's exit, the door. It stands tall and imposing, made of heavy, dark wood. There's a tarnished doorknob, and the door appears to be slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of what lies beyond. It beckons me to explore further, promising unknown adventures or perhaps even more mysteries.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>try to open</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I approach the door and grasp the tarnished doorknob. With a gentle push, the door creaks open, revealing a corridor shrouded in shadows. The faint glow from the room behind me barely penetrates the darkness ahead. I step cautiously into the corridor, ready to uncover the secrets that lie beyond.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>foward.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I proceed forward down the shadowy corridor, my footsteps echoing faintly in the dimness. The path ahead seems endless, and the air grows cooler as I delve deeper into the unknown, guided only by the flickering light behind me and the anticipation of what awaits.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>foward and look around</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: Continuing down the corridor, I take a moment to look around. The walls are lined with faded, tattered tapestries depicting scenes of ancient battles and mythical creatures. The torch sconces that once held flames have long since burned out, leaving only empty brackets. The air feels heavy with history, and there's a faint, eerie whispering that seems to emanate from the walls themselves, as if they hold secrets untold.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>keep going until you discover something</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I press on, the corridor seemingly endless. My journey is shrouded in uncertainty, but I persist, driven by the need to discover what lies ahead. The shadows deepen, and the air grows colder as I continue, my curiosity and determination unwavering.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>stop! you here that?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I halt in my tracks, straining my ears to listen. There's a faint, distant sound, almost like a whisper carried on the wind. It's indistinct, but it holds a mysterious allure, beckoning me to investigate further.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>listen carefully</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I listen intently, my senses sharpened as I focus on the elusive sound. It becomes clearer, a haunting melody that seems to weave through the very air itself. It's both captivating and eerie, drawing me closer to its source with each haunting note.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>who play that?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: The source of the haunting melody remains elusive, hidden in the shadows. It's as if the music emanates from the very walls, an ethereal presence that defies explanation. There is no visible musician, yet the music continues to fill the corridor, casting a spell of enchantment and mystery.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Head to the source of the sound and investigate (dice roll)</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I heed the roll of the dice and embark on a quest to trace the source of the haunting melody. Each step takes me closer to the enchanting sound, and as I round a corner in the corridor, I come upon a door, slightly ajar, from which the music seems to emanate. My heart races with anticipation as I push the door open, eager to unveil the secrets that lie within.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>When you open the door, there...</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: When I open the door, there stands a grand chamber bathed in an otherworldly glow. In the center of the room, an ornate grand piano commands attention. The keys move on their own, playing the haunting melody that had drawn me here. But there's no one at the piano.The room is adorned with opulent tapestries and gilded mirrors, reflecting the surreal scene before me. Candlelit chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a warm, flickering light that dances across the walls. The air is filled with an intoxicating fragrance, a mix of ancient incense and delicate flowers.At the far end of the room, a figure cloaked in shadows stands beside an enormous, antique bookshelf filled with tomes of forgotten knowledge. Their presence is enigmatic, and their intentions remain unclear.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>look piano</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I approach the grand piano, its keys still playing the haunting melody. As I inspect it, I notice that there are no visible hands or fingers touching the keys. It's as if the piano itself is possessed by some unseen force, creating the music with an ethereal touch.The piano is a masterpiece of craftsmanship, adorned with intricate carvings and inlaid with precious gemstones. Its keys are made of polished ivory, and they move in perfect harmony with the haunting tune. It's a surreal and mesmerizing sight, leaving me both entranced and bewildered.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Be careful, it might be a man-eating piano.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I heed the caution and approach the grand piano with caution. Although it plays on its own, I remain wary of its mysterious nature. The possibility of a man-eating piano lingers in my mind, adding an extra layer of tension to the already surreal scene.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>the piano suddenly stops</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: The abrupt halt of the piano's music sends a shiver down my spine. The chamber falls into an eerie silence, broken only by the flickering candlelight. It's as if the very essence of the room holds its breath, waiting for what comes next.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>You feel disgusted and turn around. What happened?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: As I turn around, a wave of revulsion washes over me. My senses reel in disgust at the sight before me. The figure that had been cloaked in shadows has now revealed itself, and it is a grotesque, nightmarish entity. Its form is a twisted amalgamation of human and beast, with grotesque, elongated limbs and a maw of sharp, jagged teeth.The once opulent chamber has transformed into a nightmarish lair, with walls adorned in macabre art and gruesome trophies. The air is thick with the stench of decay and despair. I am trapped in a surreal and horrifying nightmare, unable to escape the clutches of this abomination.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>it scary. what will you do?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: Fear courses through me as I confront this nightmarish entity and its gruesome lair. In this realm of horrors, I must make a decision. I choose to... confront the entity, my curiosity and determination outweighing my fear, as I seek to uncover the mysteries and secrets that lie within this twisted nightmare.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>how?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: With trembling resolve, I take a step forward, slowly approaching the grotesque entity. I attempt to communicate with it, asking it what it wants or why it has brought me here. My voice quivers, but my determination to unravel the enigma that surrounds this nightmarish realm remains steadfast.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>any result?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: The grotesque entity regards me with malevolent, glowing eyes, its jagged maw twitching with an unsettling smile. It responds with a guttural, incomprehensible language, filled with whispers and hisses. It becomes apparent that communication with this entity is futile, and its intentions remain shrouded in darkness.As I continue to stand before this nightmarish being, I feel a growing sense of dread, realizing that escape may be the only option left.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>surely. what will you do?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: With no hope of communication or understanding, and the nightmarish entity's menacing presence growing more oppressive, I decide to make a hasty retreat. I turn and rush toward the door through which I entered, driven by the instinct to escape the horrors of this surreal nightmare.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Did it go well? Or Bad?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: My escape from the nightmarish realm was fraught with tension and fear, but I managed to reach the door and slam it shut behind me. The grotesque entity and its horrifying lair were left behind, at least for the moment. Whether it went well or bad is a matter of perspective. I survived the encounter, but the mysteries and terrors of that surreal place still haunt my thoughts. The experience was a chilling reminder of the unknown and the horrors that can lurk within it.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>look around. what you see?</div></pre><pre class=" Permalink | 記事への反応(2) | 16:06
ストライクフリーダムフルバーストはタグがあるものの作品数がないので望み薄
https://danbooru.donmai.us/wiki_pages/strike_freedom_gundam_full_burst
もしかしたらファンネルで効果出るかも？ funnels_\(gundam\)
https://danbooru.donmai.us/wiki_pages/funnels_%28gundam%29
最初にeyes, face,を書くのと、最初にfrom behindを書くのではまったく結果が変わる
大きい構図指定→細かい部分の指定→大きい構図指定→細かい部分の指定...と繰り返すと意図した画像を出しやすい 細かい部分の指定は自分は部位ごとに分けてる
あと後ろのほうに入れたワードほど効きが弱くなるんで、そこは適宜調整
投げキッス
A yellow face winking with puckered lips blowing a kiss, depicted as a small, red heart. May represent a kiss goodbye or R.I.P. and convey feelings of hate and affection more generally.
Many platforms feature the same eyes as on their 😉 Winking Face.
Microsoft’s design previously featured a feminine smiley with long eyelashes and red lipstick, which could leave a kiss mark.
中国笙とオーケストラのための《Pink Elephant in Prentis》w/ score
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8iRGrZTa6Jo
"Pink Elephant in Prentis" for alto sheng and orchestra
Commissioned and premiered by Shanghai Philharmonic Orchestra (cond. Zhang Liang)
Prentis Hall is a building in New York City, where I spent a year (2015-2016) living in a sleeping bag and taking showers in the toilet. Prentis was built in 1909 and was initially designed as a pasteurization facility and milk bottling plant, then later used as a Heat Transfer Research Facility, conducting nuclear research and experiments, during the Manhattan Project. Columbia University acquired the building in 1949, and the building has housed Columbia’s Computer Music Center (then Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center) from the 1950s onwards. During my time there at the Computer Music Center, I have spent my days and nights exploring stimulating sounds using both analog and digital synthesizers, tape recorders, CTR monitors, and other equipments unfamiliar to me back then. Aside from the Computer Music Center, the building also housed studios for visual artists, and so I was able to meet many eccentric artists, where we ended up having long conversations every night on both significant and insignificant issues surrounding us.
Located on 125th Street in Manhattan, the “residents” of Prentis Hall were constantly harassed by the rumblings of the New York City Subway (which runs aboveground for 125th Street Station), the traffic from the highway nearby, the bustling of the streets of New York, and the construction noises from the nearby building sites. At nights, the screeching noises from the metal shop and the wood shop constantly rang throughout the building. At one point in time, the noise inspired me to imagine a gigantic pink elephant running through the narrow corridors of Prentis. The head and front half of the body was seemingly a normal elephant found in the wild. However, as I scanned my eyes further back, the body of the animal seemed to become more and more pixelated, and small 3D blocks were clearly visible on its back and hind legs, as if molded by an amateur creator in a Minecraft game. As the elephant advanced, some blocks fell onto the floor like water droplets falling from an animal soaked in water. I rubbed my eyes and shook my head, certain that I have entered a dream at some point during the night. The pink elephant walked past me and wandered into one of the many rooms the building offered. I timidly peeked into the room where the pink elephant disappeared into. The pink elephant seemed to have collapsed on the floor, its body, both the organic front and the pixelated back, expanding and shrinking as it sluggishly inhaled and exhaled oxygen.
After hours of staring at the pink elephant, I jumped back at a sudden startling noise from behind, which woke the pink elephant from its deep slumber. Furious, the pink elephant stood on its two pixelated hind legs, and stomped out into the corridors again, this time shaking off more 3D blocks from its back than when it first arrived. The organic front seemed to start to bloat up like a balloon for reasons unknown to me, and the pixelated back grew smaller and smaller due to its parts crumbling down on the floor. In a blink of an eye, the inflated front side split from its pixelated rear, then with a deafening pop, exploded into thin air like a burst balloon. What was left were the pink 3D blocks of all sizes, scattered around on the corridors of Prentis Hall.
Chatori Shimizu: https://www.chatorishimizu.com/
Shanghai Philharmonic Orchestra: http://www.shphilharmonic.com/
Why tf would anyone but u care about this person thats streaming その人が配信中だなんて情報、お前以外にとってはどうでもいいんだよ
Literally i dont want you talking here ここで話すなよ
Go back
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do not slack on grammar you actually see in texts you are reading 読んでるテキストに出てくる文法はサボっちゃだめ
most times it would be some form of self-improvement, something that we’ve always wanted to achieve, some things that we slacked on that we didn’t accomplish in the prior year.
◎ 今日の会話でウィリーさんは「Slack on」と言いましたが、基本的には「Slack off on」と表現します。
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4) Follow through（最後までやり通す）
You need to follow through with your commitment.（自分で決めたことは最後までやり通さないと。）
I promise I will follow through to the end.（最後までやり通すことを約束します。）
He’s all talk. He never follows through with what he says.（彼は口だけだよ。言ったことを全然最後までやり通さないからね。）
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too sleepy to function 眠すぎてまともに活動できない
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twitter algorithm is bad but they got more pressing issues at hand ツイッターのアルゴリズムはダメだけどもっと喫緊の課題があるよ
im getting follow requested by these bot accounts who put their bra sizes in their bio ブラサイズをプロフに載せてるボットアカウントにフォローされまくってる
e.g. resolve the pressing issues related to ～に関する喫緊問題を解決する
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Sounds like a babbling tard tbh.
Yo, u stupid. U shud get a regular job not 2 make ur mom cry out.
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I'm framing this to the wall, thanks その言葉を壁に飾っておくよ、ありがとう（褒められたりしたときに）
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they're very upset and very against the idea of this Ukrainian woman Karolina Shino winning the Miss Japan beauty pageant
https://youtu.be/1qN_8jIOxFU?t=165
〔大仕掛けな〕歴史ショー、時代劇◆可算◆地域の歴史や伝統を題材にしたもので演劇や山車を連ねたパレードの形を取ることが多い。
〔壮麗な〕行列、行進
〔多くの参加者が登場する〕ショー、公演
誇示、見せびらかし
pungent
〔味・匂いなどが鼻や舌を〕強く刺激する
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I find it kind of funny that she's trying to tick every box of adopting Japanese culture even the whole cheating part of Japanese culture which is very prevalent
tick every box = すべての条件を満たす
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The whole reason why this Carolina Ukrainian woman won the beauty contest is because she basically ticks almost all the boxes for being a beautiful Western woman. She's got the small face, the big eyes, the kind of blondish light brown hair, the very pale complexion
complexion 【名】 顔色、顔の艶、肌の色、顔貌 外観、様子、態度、形勢
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〔彼は言った彼女は言ったの〕水掛け論◆引用符を用いて"he said, she said" argumentと表記されることもある。
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Apprently "high moral capacity" that they're talking about is bent over backward over unfair "contracts" of a black company.
日本人の言っている「高い道徳能力」っていうのは、「ブラック企業の不公平な契約を守るために必死になる」ってことなんだな
BEND OVER BACKWARDS: informal. to make a special effort, esp in order to please.
cf. bending the knee to corporations
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To be a good Japanese worker, that means keeping your mouth shut, head down, and following what your boss says/does to the letter.
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catch strays 悪口を言ったら全く関係ない人に流れ弾が当たること
Aiming to insult someone but insulting someone else in the process aswell even if not involved.
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《the ～》会社の一部始終［裏と表］
人生の綾、曲折
～のことをくまなく知っている
～の内外［裏表］について話し合う
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それはお世辞にもよく撮れた写真とは言えない。: The picture is way less than flattering.
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her haters clearly don't get to her = アンチの攻撃は彼女に全く効いていない
・If you let her get to you personally, you won't last a week. : もし彼女の攻撃を個人的に受け止めたら、1週間と持たない。
・Try not let it get to you. : あまりくよくよしないで。／元気を出してください。
・Maybe the heat has gotten to me. : 暑さにやられたかな…。◆【場面】夏ばてなど。
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alright im getting off now （チャットなどで）落ちるわ
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Who gives a shit about selen?? Seriously.
You niggers spend years talking shit
The second she an heros and drops the crazy truth bomb that enna is in fact a piece of shit you drama niggers flip flop
→The second someone does something you guys flip flop（～が～した途端お前ら手のひらクルクルじゃん）という構文として覚えると良さそう
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I dunno how Niji can be any more clear that Selen was given many chances to change her behavior but stubbornly insisted on flouting the company rules and had to be made an example of. Understandable that people who love Selen will support her even when she's in the wrong though.
頑なに会社の規則に背くことを繰り返し、見せしめにされなければならなかった
insist on: to keep doing something, even if it annoys other people, or people think it is not good for you: I don't know why you insist on talking about it.
flout: 〔人・規則・慣習などを〕軽蔑する、ばかにして無視する［従わない］、逆らう
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excising a company that has bad practices and exploits people's interest in the industry will be a long term benefit, even if it makes waves right now
悪しき慣習を持ち、人々の関心を搾取する会社を排除することは、たとえ今波風が吹いたとしても、長期的な利益につながるだろう
excise
1名
消費税、物品税◆【同】excise tax ; excise duty
1他動
〔～に〕消費税［物品税］を課す
2他動
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You know you have to admire the grift. Very public divorce proceedings and cheating accusations on top of that and she still doubles down with the GFE. She’s a lying whore but damn, the commitment to the bit.
she has nothing on taylor swift, 12 dicks in her so far
テイラー・スウィフトには敵わない
（人）の弱みを握っていない、（人）のしっぽをつかんでいない、（人）を有罪にする証拠がない、（人）に不利な情報を得ていない
・They think Tim is the murderer, but the police have nothing on him yet. : ティムが殺人犯だと思っているが、警察はまだしっぽをつかめない。
（人）にかなわない、（人）に太刀打ちできない
何も身に着けていない、裸である
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Whoa, he means business. : うわ、あいつマジ［本気｛ほんき｝モード］だぞ。◇【場面】遊び半分やジョークではなく、真剣になっている。
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放っておけば、好き勝手にさせれば
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The problem is that NijiEN livers are now all implicated in the scandal, due to the malicious idiocy of the 3 Stooges.
the EN branch just implicated itself in a massive PR disaster that may take months if not actual years to recover from.
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But whatever I'm cool go with the flow 流れに任せる
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〔論争などで〕言われたら言い返さないと気が済まない◆【直訳】最後の言葉を持たねばならない ⇒ 自分の言葉で議論を終わらせたい。つまり反論できずに黙ってしまうことを望まず、相手を論破して黙らせたい。
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Huh, guess I don't dig enough in the community outside /here/ and just skirt across the surface.
ここ以外のコミュニティは表面をなぞっただけでちゃんと掘り下げたことがない
〔～の〕周辺を通る、〔～の〕周囲をまわる［巡る］ ・The hills skirt the village. : 小高い山がその村を囲んでいる。
2. 避けて通る、敬遠する ・We skirted a large hole there. : 私たちはそこにある大きな穴を避けて通った。
4. 〔～の〕周辺にある［位置する
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あ、NovelAiって書いてたね。じゃあBREAKは無いね。悪い。
by {{{作家名}}}, animal furry female adolescent {{imaizumi_kagerou}} from side, Touhou, [[[official art, official style]]], gray {{body fur}}, standing skirt lift thigh focus, {sexually suggestive, rating:Sensitive}, [very aesthetic, best quality, highres], [[eyes visible through hair, hair between eyes, long hair, long brown hair]], [looking to viewer], [red eyes], {large detailed best quality eyes}, [snout, slit pupils, :3 naughty smile, animal ears, wolf ears], {wolf tail}, oversized clothes, {white dress with long sleeves, skirt lift}, thighs, [[crotch, groin peek]], hair ornament, tail ornament, drunk, in heat, spoken heart, breath, sweat, wet, sweat, {sexually suggestive}, {pixel art}, [[sun, town, alley]], [very aesthetic, best quality, highres]
neg:
{{copyright, copyright name, copyright notice, {bad hands}, signature, logo, text, comic}}, {blind, empty eyes, no pupils, mismatched pupils, eye reflection, half-closed eyes, squinting}, lowres, {bad}, error, fewer, extra, missing, worst quality, jpeg artifacts, bad quality, watermark, unfinished, displeasing, chromatic aberration, monochrome, extra digits, artistic error, username, scan, [abstract], [bad vulva], [asymmetrical], {letterboxed}, [[darkness]], anatomical nonsense, {fingernails, nail polish, fingers, hand focus}, deformed, chibi, heterochromia, multiple views, bad multiple views, {asymmetrical breasts, breasts apart, flat chest}, {{censor, censored}}, pubic hair, bald, pawpads, paw gloves, animal feet, copyright, copyright notice, {blush}, alternate color, shiny pokemon, [skin], [[[[realistic, cel shaded, animated]]]], senko (sewayaki kitsune no senko-san), fox, red fur, dark, darkness, simple background
Hulu ignoring onscreen text makes it harder to follow big picture stuff
フールーが画面上に出てくるテキストを翻訳していないせいで、話の全体像が見えづらくなってしまっている
e.g.
He had the ability to look at the bigger picture 彼は物事を広く見渡す力があった
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Nothing ventured, nothing gained. 何ももっていない者は何も失うことはない。
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If there's one thing you fucking akbars got right it's food
ムスリム野郎どもに一つだけしっかりしていることがあるとすればそれは飯だ
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i learned it and i forgot it like the dumbass i am
それ学んだのにアホすぎて忘れてたわ
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I've been warming up to X = X has been growing on me
Xのことがだんだん好きになりつつある
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逆にわからなくなった
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それを拭いてきれいにした
水できれいにした
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She's got a lot of nerve = What nerve!
図々しさにもほどがある
https://eikaiwa.dmm.com/uknow/questions/30756/
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1. He ain't got shit on me あいつなんかじゃ俺には敵わないよ
2. They got shit on him. あいつらは彼のやばい情報を握ってる (shit = compromised information like blackmail)
3. “hey, do you have $5” “sorry, I don’t have shit on me.” すまん、今一文無しだわ (shit = anything)
4. “hey, you can’t arrest me, I don’t have shit on me”. 俺はヤクなんて持ってねえよ (shit = contraband)
https://hinative.com/questions/5145822
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a/one heck of ...
This was one heck of an experience
すっげー体験だった
“I had a heck of a time swimming with Alexander.”
すごいパーティだった
https://hinative.com/questions/14345692
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the annals of history
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what (who) do you take me for?＝私をなんだと思っているの？
What sort of person do you think I am? For example, What do you take me for, an idiot?
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英語にも「目が滑る」と同じ表現があるっぽい それとも英語から輸入されたのか？
It's hard to even go back and read it, my eyes keep sliding off it, or fail to comprehend it.
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late for work = ある特定の出来事を指すことが多い。「今行かなければ仕事に遅刻する。(I must go now or I shall be late for work.)」
Late to work = 上司など、他の人があなたについて言うときに使われる。「最近君の記録を見たが、今月は頻繁に遅刻しているようだね。(I have looked at your record recently and I see you've frequently been late to work this month.)」
https://www.englishforums.com/English/LateForToClass/knhbd/post.htm
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“I’ve decided to go back to teaching”
go back to teaching→他の仕事から教職に戻る
get back to teaching→不本意ながら教師を辞めたというはっきりとしたニュアンスがある（授業中に休憩して、授業に戻る際にも使える）
https://forum.wordreference.com/threads/go-back-vs-get-back.3778841/
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ChatGPTに犬の絵を描いてもらった
なかなかおもちろいわね
import matplotlib.pyplot as plt import numpy as np # Correcting the inversion of the y-axis to ensure the dog is drawn in the correct orientation. def draw_dog_correct_orientation(): # Points for the dog's head head_top = np.array([[0.3, 0.55], [0.35, 0.45], [0.45, 0.42], [0.55, 0.42], [0.65, 0.45], [0.7, 0.55]]) head_bottom = np.array([[0.7, 0.6], [0.68, 0.65], [0.5, 0.7], [0.32, 0.65], [0.3, 0.6], [0.3, 0.55]]) # Points for the dog's body body_top = np.array([[0.5, 0.7], [0.5, 0.75], [0.7, 0.8], [0.72, 0.85], [0.74, 0.9]]) body_bottom = np.array([[0.74, 0.9], [0.7, 0.95], [0.4, 0.95], [0.36, 0.9], [0.34, 0.85], [0.36, 0.8], [0.5, 0.75]]) # Points for the dog's tail tail = np.array([[0.34, 0.85], [0.2, 0.9]]) # Points for the dog's ears right_ear = np.array([[0.65, 0.45], [0.78, 0.42], [0.78, 0.38], [0.65, 0.35]]) left_ear = np.array([[0.35, 0.45], [0.22, 0.42], [0.22, 0.38], [0.35, 0.35]]) # Create a new figure plt.figure(figsize=(6.4, 4.8)) # 640x480 pixels # Draw the dog's head plt.plot(np.append(head_top[:, 0], head_bottom[:, 0]), np.append(head_top[:, 1], head_bottom[:, 1]), 'k-', linewidth=1) # Head # Draw the dog's body plt.plot(body_top[:, 0], body_top[:, 1], 'k-', linewidth=1) # Body top plt.plot(body_bottom[:, 0], body_bottom[:, 1], 'k-', linewidth=1) # Body bottom # Draw the dog's tail plt.plot(tail[:, 0], tail[:, 1], 'k-', linewidth=1) # Tail # Draw the dog's ears plt.plot(right_ear[:, 0], right_ear[:, 1], 'k-', linewidth=1) # Right ear plt.plot(left_ear[:, 0], left_ear[:, 1], 'k-', linewidth=1) # Left ear # Draw the eyes plt.plot([0.45, 0.45], [0.53, 0.53], 'ko') # Left eye plt.plot([0.55, 0.55], [0.53, 0.53], 'ko') # Right eye # Draw the nose plt.plot([0.5, 0.5], [0.6, 0.6], 'ko') # Nose # Configure the plot plt.axis('off') # No axis plt.xlim(0, 1) plt.ylim(1, 0) # Correct the orientation by flipping the y-axis # Show the plot plt.show() draw_dog_correct_orientation()
