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はてなキーワード: Eyesとは
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(1) | 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.
設置型家庭用テレビゲーム機のソフト 流行した社会の現実的状況 増田の書いている嘘
FF1. 52万本 平成初年の知能マニアに受けただけで 全般的に流行ったなどと言うクソつまらない自己満足と詐欺
FF3. 140万本
FF4. 144万本 フースーヤ、ゴルベイズ、など幼稚なキャラデザインが出現しヒットしたが、ゲームはレベルが高い
FF6. 255万本 概要が一気に幼稚化し、 全面的な設計デザインが一気に幼稚化して大流行した
FF7. 202万本 大ヒット
FF8. 250万本 ゲーム進行自体はクソだったが、eyes on me 主題歌のみ社会的にヒット 備考 こうすけはやっていた
FF12. 184万本 以降、糞過ぎて不発
FF13. 151万本
FF15. 69万本
FF7R1. 70万本
FF7R.
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()
In a discussion about the case, someone raised an objection to "someone who was not a party to the incident, who was not from Nagasaki, and who was not from Hiroshima, complaining about it. Seeing that opinion made me aware of my position, so I will say what I must say.
I was born in Nagasaki and am a third-generation A-bomb survivor.
I say this because I grew up hearing the stories of the A-bomb damage directly from those who suffered from the atomic bombings.
I feel that it is unacceptable for someone like me to speak about the A-bomb damage.
However, there are few A-bomb survivors left, so I will speak up.
In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. We were made to sit in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, where there was not even an air conditioner or a fan, and for nearly an hour we were made to listen to stories about the atomic bombing. It was hard for me anyway.
I think it was even more painful for the elderly people who told the stories. But I don't think an elementary school kid could have imagined that. I, too, have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most.
Another thing is that at this time of year, pictures of the victims of the atomic bombing are pasted up in the hallways.
In other parts of the country, these are grotesque images that would cause a fuss from the parents who are always nagging about them.
Recently, even the A-bomb museum has become more gentle in its exhibits, and most of the radical and horrifying exhibits that would have traumatized visitors have been removed.
I don't know how elementary schools now teach about the A-bomb damage. But when I was in elementary school, there were photos on display.
There was one photo that I just couldn't face as an elementary school student. It was a picture of Taniguchi Sumiteru(谷口稜曄). If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would still like you to see it.
I couldn't pass through the hallway where the photo was displayed, so I always took the long way around to another floor to avoid seeing the photo.
My grandfather was under the bomb and went to the burnt ruins of the bomb to look for his sister. I can understand now that he couldn't turn away or go another way.
There would have been a mountain of people still alive and moaning in the ruins of the burnt ruins. There would have been many more who would have died out in agony.
My grandfather walked for miles and miles, towing a rear wheelchair, through the narrow streets of rubble-strewn Nagasaki in search of his sister.
My grandfather was not a child then. But of course there were elementary school children who did the same thing he did. I am not speculating that there were. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it.
A young brother and sister found their father's corpse in the ruins of the fire and burned it themselves. They didn't have enough wood to burn him alive, and when they saw his brain spilling out, they ran away, and that was the last time they ever saw him again.
I can never forget that story I heard when I was a kid, and even now it's painful and painful, my hands are shaking and I'm crying.
I keep wondering how that old man who ran away from his father's brain was able to expose to the public the unimaginably horrible trauma, the scar that will never heal, even after all these years.
Now I think I understand a little.
Why I can't help but talk about my grandfather and the old man now, even as I remember my own trauma.
Because this level of suffering is nothing compared to their words being forgotten.
It's nothing compared to the tremendous suffering that once existed that will be forgotten, like my hands shaking, my heart palpitating, my nose running with vertigo, and so on.
My grandfather, who went through an unimaginable hell, lived to see his grandchildren born, and met his sister's death in the ruins of the fire.
In other words, my grandfather was one of the happiest people in the ruins of the fire.
My grandfather and that old man were, after all, just people wading in the depths of hell.
I think that the suffering that even people who had experienced unimaginable pain could not imagine was lying like pebbles on the ground in Nagasaki 78 years ago, and no one paid any attention to it.
Their suffering, which I can't even imagine, is nothing compared to the countless, unimaginable suffering they witnessed, which they pretend never happened.
Memories fade inexorably with each passing human mouth. The memories that those people could never allow to be forgotten are almost forgotten.
The tremendous suffering of 78 years ago is mostly gone, never to be recounted.
Those who suffered the most from the atomic bombing died rotting in the ruins of the fire without being able to tell anyone about it.
Many of those who saw it with their own eyes kept their mouths shut and took it with them to their graves. Most of those who spoke a few words are still in their graves.
Compared to the words of the old men, my own words are so light. I would rather keep my mouth shut than speak in such light words.
But still, someone has to take over. I realize that even my words, which are so light, are only the top of the voices that are left in this world to carry on the story of the atomic bombing.
I know how it feels to think that I am the only one. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. I know that I have closed my mouth because I thought I shouldn't talk about it, and that is the result.
Sometimes I almost choose to stop imagining the unimaginable suffering and live my life consuming other people's suffering for fun.
I am writing this while I still have some imagination of the suffering of the old people whose voices, faces, and even words I can no longer recall.
すまん。勝手に翻訳した。拡散はどうするかな。redditとかに投稿するのがいいのか?
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I have seen some posts asking if they should talk about "the case" even though they were not involved in it and were not born in Nagasaki or Hiroshima, and I am a bit aware of it, so I have to say what I have to say. I say this because I was born in Nagasaki, am a third generation atomic bomb survivor, and grew up hearing the stories of those who experienced the atomic bombing firsthand. I know it's a little bit too much for me, but I'm going to say this because there are very few survivors left.
In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. They were stuffed into sushi for nearly an hour in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, with no air conditioner or fan, and told stories about the atomic bombing. That was a hard time for me. I think it must have been even harder for the old people who told the stories, but there was no way an elementary school kid could imagine such a thing, and I had forgotten most of the stories I had been told for a long time. I have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most. There is one more hard thing. Every year around this time, a row of grotesque images that would drive the PTA crazy in other areas are prominently displayed in the hallways. These days, I hear that the atomic bomb museum has been bleached out and many of the radical and horrifying exhibits that traumatized visitors have been taken down. I don't know if they are still there, but they were there when I was in elementary school.
There was one photo that I just couldn't face when I was in elementary school. It is a picture of Sumiteru Taniguchi. If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would like you to take a look at it. I couldn't pass through the hallway where the photo was posted, so I always took the long way around to another floor of the school building to avoid seeing the photo.
Now I'm thinking that my grandfather, who headed into the burnt ruins to look for his sister, couldn't have turned away or taken a different path. There would have been a mountain of people still alive and moaning, not just pictures, and a mountain more who would have given up at the end of their suffering. He walked for miles and miles, towing his handcart through the narrow streets of rubble-strewn Nagasaki in search of his sister. My grandfather was not a child at the time, but of course there were children who did similar things. Not that there wouldn't have been. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it. A young brother and sister found their father's body in the ruins of a fire and they burned it. They didn't have enough wood to burn his body, and when they saw the raw brain that spilled out, they ran away and that was the last time they ever saw him anymore.
I can never forget the story I heard when I was a kid, and even now it is painful and painful, my hands are shaking and I am crying. I keep wondering how the old man who escaped from that father's brain could have been able to unravel the most horrible trauma imaginable and expose it to the public with scars that will never heal.
Now I think I can understand a little.
The reason I can't help but talk about my grandfather and that old man, even if I have to rehash my own trauma, is that this level of suffering is nothing compared to the fact that their words will be forgotten. My hands shaking, my heart palpitating and dizzy, my nose running with tears, it's nothing compared to the tremendous suffering that was once there and will be forgotten.
My grandfather, who went through an unimaginable hell, lived to see his grandchildren born, and met his sister's death in the ruins of the fire. In other words, my grandfather was one of the happiest people in the ruins of the fire. My grandfather and that old man were, after all, just people wading in the depths of hell. I think that the suffering that even people who had experienced unimaginable pain could not imagine was lying like pebbles in Nagasaki 78 years ago, and no one paid any attention to it. Their suffering, which I can't even imagine, is nothing compared to the countless, tremendous suffering they witnessed, which they pretend never happened.
Memories fade inexorably every time people talk about them. The memories that those people could not allow to be forgotten are now largely forgotten; the tremendous suffering of 78 years ago is mostly gone, never to be recounted again. Those who suffered the most from the atomic bombing died rotting in the ruins of the fire, unable to tell anyone about it. Many of those who saw it with their own eyes kept their mouths shut and took it with them to their graves. Most of those who spoke a few words are now under the grave.
Compared to the words of the old men, my own words are so light. I would rather keep my mouth shut than speak in such light words. But still, someone has to take over. I realize that even my words, which are so light, are only the top of the voices that are left in this world to carry on the story of the atomic bombing. I know how it feels to wonder if someone like myself is allowed to speak about this. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. This is the result of our silence.
Sometimes I almost choose to stop imagining the unimaginable suffering and live my life consuming other people's suffering for the fun of it. I am writing this while I still have some imagination of the suffering of the old people whose voices, faces, and even words I can no longer recall.
Translator's note: The original post in Japanese is a response to a post by a Japanese contributor who wondered if he was qualified to speak out on the subject of the A-bomb when he was not from Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but still spoke out about Barbie and the A-bomb. I translated it here because I think it deserves to be read by the world.
I must talk about various things regarding the Barbie incident.
I saw a post about it from someone who is neither directly involved nor from Nagasaki or Hiroshima, and it made me realize that there are things I must say.
I was born in Nagasaki and grew up listening to stories from the survivors, being a third-generation survivor myself. Most survivors are no longer with us, so I feel compelled to speak up.
In Nagasaki, kids grow up hearing about the atomic bomb. We were packed like sushi in a gymnasium without air conditioning or even fans during the scorching summer, and we listened to stories about the bomb. It was incredibly tough for me.
I imagine it was even harder for the elderly who spoke about their experiences. As a child, I couldn't fully comprehend their pain, and now, I can hardly remember most of the stories I heard. I can only recall one or two.
Every year during this time, gruesome images that would make PTA elsewhere go crazy were displayed in the hallways. I heard that many of the horrifying exhibits that used to traumatize visitors at the Atomic Bomb Museum have been removed, and the museum has been considerably sanitized. I'm not sure about the current situation, but that's how it was when I was there.
There was one photograph that I could never bear to look at as a child – a picture of Tadashi Taniguchi. You can find it if you search, but it's a shocking image with a viewer discretion warning. Still, I want people to see it.
I couldn't walk down the hallway where that photo was displayed, and I always took a different route, avoiding it so I wouldn't have to see it.
Now, I think of my grandpa who went to the ruins to search for my sister. He couldn't look away or take a different path. The pain must have been unimaginable.
Besides photographs, there were many living people moaning in pain back then, and there must have been even more who succumbed to suffering.
My grandpa walked for miles, pulling a handcart through the debris-laden streets of Nagasaki, searching for my sister.
Even though my grandpa was not a child, I'm sure there were elementary school kids who did similar things. I don't just think they might have been there; they were there. I heard the stories from the people themselves, and I still remember them.
I can't forget the stories I heard as a child, such as the young siblings finding their father's burnt corpse in the ruins and cremating him. They didn't have enough firewood, and their father ended up half-burnt. They ran away after seeing the brain tissue oozing out, and that became their final farewell.
I can never forget those stories I heard as a child, and even now, they still bring pain and suffering, making my hands tremble and tears flow.
I wonder how my grandpa, who ran away from that father's brain tissue, could expose his unimaginable trauma and everlasting scars to the world.
Now, I feel like I understand a little.
Even someone like me, who experienced such unimaginable trauma, has gone through pain that I can't even imagine being compared to being discarded, forgotten, and ignored. Compared to what those people experienced, my suffering means nothing.
My trembling hands and the palpitations and dizziness I experienced are nothing compared to the tremendous pain that many others went through.
Memories fade irreversibly every time they pass through people's lips. The memories that I couldn't bear to be forgotten are almost forgotten now.
The unimaginable pain that existed 78 years ago has mostly disappeared, and we can no longer pass it on.
The people who suffered the most from the atomic bomb perished in the ruins, rotting away without being able to convey it to anyone.
Even those who saw it with their own eyes mostly took the memories with them to their graves. Most of them are now under the tombstones.
Compared to the words of the elderly, my words seem so light. I think that speaking with such light words would be better than keeping silent, as silence has led to this result.
I feel like I might occasionally choose to stop imagining the unimaginable pain and consume the suffering of others in an amusing way to live on.
Before I forget the pain and suffering of those elderly people, whose faces and voices I can no longer recall, I will leave this here.
