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humanoidhistory · 7 months

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Illustrator Valentin Viktorov was born on this day in 1909.

#valentin viktorov #space art #illustration #illustrator #propaganda #space age #russia #soviet #soviet union #ussr

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thingsifoundonebay · 5 months

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Soviet poster, propaganda, original vintage. Space. Cosmonautics. Peaceful space

#poster #soviet #space age

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histonics · 4 months

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#vostok #vostok 6 #ussr #soviet era #soviet union #soviet space program #soviet #russia #russian #space age

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pallanophblargh · 2 months

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Man I’ve followed you a while and had somehow no idea you were the artist for the Green Rider covers! It’s so fantastic to find an artist whose work you enjoy has worked on something you love.

I find it amusing that followers from different social media sites know me for different things. My early dA followers probably remember me most for those covers (can't believe it's been so long, over a decade in fact). Plus, it's hard to find covers in a sea of random posts on tumblr!

And thank you! It's been an unexpected but welcome journey, and I look forward to working on all future titles in the series. (Maybe I'm being ridiculous but it kinda feels like I cornered the market on winged horses done up in a crosshatch style...)

#anonymous #text post #cover illustration #not sure what my followers here know me most for #maybe pallanophs in the beginning but now? who knows #it's also kind of amusing how I got the opportunity #posting a wonky sketch of all things #I still have it and it looks... well for me it didn't age well haha #my other claim to fame is the soviet bear image #i'll never recover from that

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mintyscuriocabinet · 2 months

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Moodboards based on my favourite stuffies!

Their names in order are Kitty, Boy Blue, Cheburashka and Bunny. As you can probably tell, Kitty is the oldest; she'll be 20 this year!

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tintinology · 1 year

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doesn't tintin always speak french because he visits colonies

Not necessarily. Of all the countries he visits, the only ones I can think of that would be French or Belgian colonies are Congo and Morocco (Bagghar, while fictional, is said to be located in this country). Shanghai had a French concession, though whether that's the one that Tintin visits (as opposed to the British concession for example) or not is unclear. And he does visit French-speaking countries in Europe (Switzerland and France) where he presumably is speaking French. But they're far from being the only ones he visits.

As for the other countries he goes to, some are English colonies (Egypt, India) or former colonies (US), so I don't think they'd necessarily speak French there. Not to mention that he also visits South America a couple of times and the characters from the countries he goes to are shown to speak Spanish (think of General Alcazar exclaiming "Caramba!" or Zorrino calling him "señor"). It's not a stretch to believe that there might be people who speak French there, but it certainly wouldn't be the norm. I doubt the Incas were speaking French, tbh.

For the fictional countries, it's harder to say. Khemed could have at some point been a French colony, but it's never specified, and both Syldavia and Borduria have their own (possibly Salvic?) language, though again, it's possible that they know some French (King Muskar might have spoken French, for example, it having been the language of European courts for centuries).

Anyways, aside from all that, both Tintin and Haddock canonically speak English; it's especially obvious in the French version of Tintin in Tibet, where Tintin actually switches to English to ask for directions and Haddock asks some kids if he can eat the peppers in English.

It does admittedly suggest that they do speak French most of the time and that switching to English is notable enough to be written out explicitly, though it's hard to say for sure. But Tintin definitely doesn't only visit francophone colonies, so if he's speaking French, it's not (solely) because of that. It's more likely just something that we're supposed to ignore as readers.

#I missed some countries there because I felt it might become a bit redundant #don't think french was spoken in the soviet union though #and he visits england and scotland i dont think he spoke french there #anyways yeah the language thing is probably glossed over in the comics for the sake of brevity #and to avoid questions about how tintin can possibly know so many languages at such a young age #but yeah its inaccurate to say he only visits french colonies they're actually a minority among the places he visits #anyways sorry for the long reply lol its just a topic i find interesting #answered #anon #tintin #the adventures of tintin

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pwlanier · 2 years

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Cosmonaut toys 1950-1970

Litfund

#cosmonaut #soviet union #space race #space station #rocketry #nasa #cold war #atomic age

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creekfiend · 1 year

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Oh so Disco Elysium is a disaster old man babygirl simulator. This is my cup of tea.

I mean like I have certainly seen it described thusly yes

#its like a post soviet disaster manic pixie middle aged man simulator. sort of. THIS IS AN OVERSIMPLIFICATION #ITS REQLLY SO GOOD ITS GOT YOU KNOW THEMES AND MOTIFS AND SHIT.

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kikizoshi · 2 months

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Feeling discouraged, so here's a short, unfinished Godos piece that will never be realised. Nikolai's attempting (read: failing) to write his first draft of a play (an adaptation of Dead Souls, Part 2). Fyodor was going to cheer him up and inspire him, somehow, but I don't have any clue how, so this is all I could get out of that idea. (I do at least like how it turned out, though, unfinished as it is.)

---

The words on the page taunted Nikolai like so many Sufi dervishes. They blurred, swirled into characters half-formed, who jumped and jeered just out of Nikolai’s sight. ‘Find us,’ they seemed to say. ‘Come and see our beautiful lives! And then depict us, reveal us to everyone, that we may truly exist.’ They beckoned him to find them, invited him to view their marvelous exploits, to laugh along with their absurd adventures—and then just as he reached to meet them, they slipped away, laughing. Unendingly they tortured him with scenes just beyond grasp, a perfect story hidden in the periphery of a dense fog.

Nikolai groaned, leaned back, and pressed his palms against his eyes. It was a perfect picture of agony, well-practiced and endlessly rehearsed. ‘Yet all the acting in the world won’t save a lacking script,’ he thought. ‘Ah, why can’t you just write yourselves? Hop along, I’ll even guide the quill, so long as you do something, anything, oh please…’ His entreaties, of course, prompted naught but more formless tittering. Nikolai sighed, and contemplated how effective bashing his scull against the door-jam would be at shaking something loose.

“Is something the matter?” an irritatingly calm Fyodor asked from behind him. Nikolai swung around in his chair, resting his arms on the back, and stared pointedly at his relaxed friend who lounged so serenely on the green recliner, a book nestled under his folded palms. The question itself was preemptive, a set-up, a frivolous first line of a three-line script which always arrived at the same conclusion. Nikolai recognised the offer for friendly—and perhaps even needed—advice, but took it no less bitterly. He smiled mirthlessly. Nevertheless, he played his part.

“Whatever gave you that impression? Was it the willful suicide of the last of my creative expression? Or perhaps you hear them laughing too?”

“Your characters won’t work with you?” (Here, the second phrase, to be replied with…)

“Oh, far beyond that. They won’t speak to me at all! I’m being shunned.”

“I see.” Fyodor concluded and stood, pulling the curtain on their impromptu play. Nikolai watched him go, mildly curious which remedy Fyodor would prescribe this time. “I need to visit the theatre,” he said finally. “Would you like to join me?”

Nikolai laughed flatly. “For what? The stage doesn’t—and I say this from great experience—do anything for one’s imagination. If anything, it’s worse, because you see everything that has been and none of what could be! Can you imagine that? I know, I know, you’re ‘not that way artistically inclined,’ but imagine for a moment that the sentences of your computer codes were jumping and jaunting about in front of your very eyes, and so to fix it, you decided to stare at someone else's pages. Well? Would that help you very much?”

“Most likely it wouldn’t.” Fyodor smiled. “But we won’t be going to the stage. I need to stop by the costuming department. Misha talked one of the women there into parting with an unused costume design for Verenka, but couldn’t pick it up himself.”

“And you just so happen to be free?”

“No,” Fyodor said, a bit dejected. “But I couldn’t stand to stare at my colleagues’ ‘pages’. As you say, it won’t do any good.” He sighed wearily. “Some fresh air and new scenery, tea, something else to think about… I need them greatly. And some company would be nice, too.”

Nikolai stood without ceremony (a shame, yes, but recall his lack of inspiration and forgive him), stretched, and said flatly, “Well then, what are we waiting for?”

---

As it turned out, Nikolai was quite quick to regret those words. A lovely stroll down the uncharacteristically sun-touched streets of St. Petersburg wound down into a bustling cafe.

---

Surprisingly, all went well at the theatre. The lady was quite nice, expressing her condolences and well-wishes for the ‘poor young woman’, and waved them on their way. Pattern safely secured, the two stopped by the next-door cafe, ‘The Stray Dog’, (home to aspiring and established artists alike), for a spot of tea. And thence all collapsed.

#writing #bsd #bsd fyodor #bsd nikolai #godos #fyolai #the projection is strong with this one #I wanted to try a story more from Nikolai's perspective #adding his way of viewing the world into the prose #because usually I do a more third-person omniscient style and Дом в котором inspired me #the Fyodor really wasn't Fyodoring in this one though...#by the way: 'The Stray Dog' isn't just a BSD reference #it's an actual cafe that was frequented by a lot of prominent silver age Soviet artists #and still exists today I believe after having been shut down for a while #it also happens to share a building with Mikhailovsky theatre. which is near-ish to the apartment they're in right now #(their apartment being on Grazhdanskaya street)#also to ramble a bit about Fyodor and Nikolai's living situation #they share a one-room apartment. which is why Fyodor was reading in the same room #Fyodor works on his laptop in the kitchen but prefers to read in the bedroom #Nikolai's writing desk is also in the bed/living room so it's often that he's writing/rehearsing while Fyodor's reading #which personally sounds like a living hell but they both grew up sharing rooms with siblings so ig they're already used to it

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therobotmonster · 2 months

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Heck Yeah ROM Spaceknight

#Rom: Spaceknight #undead ice age mammals #the soviet super soldiers #old comics #rom the spaceknight

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humanoidhistory · 8 months

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(RussiaTrek)

#soviet union #space #soviet #propaganda #1950s #space age #space race

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ronanception · 2 years

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“Tell me something you hate about America.”

Robin coughed harder than usual, scrunching up from where she had been laying down, wheezing in surprise. Nancy smiled innocently on her left, reaching out a hand to rub her back as she looked back at her with wild eyes, gasping for breath. She cleared her throat once she had recovered and passed the slowly burning joint back to her girlfriend.

“Are you wearing a wire?” she squeaked, the whites of her eyes flashing as she scanned the empty hill Nancy had parked on. It had been a year since she had told her ex-ex-girlfriend the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It had been three months of pure, summer bliss since she had regained Nancy's trust, and tonight they were sharing a joint they had procured together from Eddie, laying on the hood of The Wheeler Station Wagon and looking at the stars.

“Oh my god. Please. I’m an investigative journalist.”

“An aspiring investigative journalist.”

Nancy sat up as she pulled in a lungful of smoke, smacking Robin lightly on the arm.

“Har har, smartass.” she teased on her exhale. Robin plucked the joint nimbly from her fingers and adopted the thinkers pose, eyeing the clear summer skies as she thumbed through the files of her memories, all the way back to when she was first planted in Anchorage, Alaska. Her first American Experience.

“I fucking hate peanut butter.” she sighed, her lips twisting into a wry grin as she glanced at Nancy.

“Shut up. No.” Nancy’s chin hit her chest and she leaned into Robins arm, giggling like a schoolgirl. “Peanut butter? You’re trying to completely integrate with American society and you can’t stand peanut butter? I’m amazed you’ve made it this far!” she laughed, linking their arms and opening her mouth slightly so that her girlfriend could tuck the quickly diminishing roach back between her lips.

“Okay. Right. So.” Robin began, paused, took a breath while she considered the right words, and continued. “Peanut butter is, like, not a thing in the Soviet Union, right? So, like, we’ve HEARD of it, and, yeah, some people get peanut butter, but, like, it’s not just on the shelf at the shop, okay? So, like, you really have to ‘know a guy’ to get some, it’s considered a delicacy.”

She paused and took the last inhale of the stub of their joint before blotting it out on the sole of her boot and flicking it away.

“Okay so - Nancy, you know I’m not rich, but back at home I was, like, I mean I get that there are rich people, and people say the oligarchs are gone and, like, from what my papa told me things are, like, at least a bit better than they were for my grandparents I guess? And I guess we do fine, but a big part of the reason I signed up for the program in the first place was to get a better status for my mama and papa and, like, there is ABSOLUTELY still class dichotomy -”

Nancy cleared her throat and nudged Robin with a saccharine smile “Peanut butter?” she asked sweetly. Robin groaned and flopped back on the hood of the station wagon, taking a giggling Nancy with her. The two wiggled closer, Nancy cuddling under Robins arm, laying her head on Robins chest, right below her collarbone. Robin gave a big sigh and continued, “Right. Peanut butter. So in the Union, sometimes, advertisements from America would leak in. I’m sure it was counter-propaganda from the west. Obviously. But I kept hearing and seeing advertisements for something called ‘Reeses Peanut Butter Cups’“

Nancy hid her face in Robins chest so that the other girl could only feel the laugh and not hear it. “Robin you sounded like an old timey news reporter when you said that...” she teased, kissing the exposed clavicle available to her. Robin huffed indignantly.

“That’s literally exactly how they said it in the broadcast! ‘Reeses Peanut Butter Cups’“ she repeated officially, “It was the first English phrase I learned!” this statement only sent Nancy into a fit of giggles.

“Listen, it’s hard enough doing an Indiana accent for a language I only just learned four years ago, okay? That’s just exactly how I heard it, I repeated that so many times I must have driven my parents crazy.” she reasoned, throwing her hands across their fields of vision. “I was really proud of how American I sounded when I did that!”

“Do you want me to finish?”

“Please, I’m dying to know what you think of ‘Reeses Peanut Butter Cups’“ Nancy giggled mercilessly. Robin groaned and squeezed her girlfriend tighter.

“Okay Miss America, what you need to know is that ‘Reeses Peanut Butter Cups’ royally fucked up the concept of peanut butter for me, okay? It’s a complete tragedy.” She pouted down at Nancy who rewarded her with a small kiss. “Thank you. It was really hard.” she said seriously before looking back at the sky.

“The thing about this misconception is that, when I came to America, I saw Peanut Butter just... there. In the store. There was so much of it! And different kinds of Peanut Butter? I was being extremely careful with my ‘American Parents’ and I refused to beg. I wasn’t great with the American accent or language either so I said...’ Robin paused for effect, ‘Pyee-nyut butterrr?’ her ‘r’s rolled ridiculously as she exaggerated her accent.

“You would not believe how fast this woman slapped the absolute shit out of me! I promise no one else heard what I said but блять I saw stars.”

Nancy cooed sympathetically, tightening her hold and pressing a sweet kiss to the underside of Robins jaw.

“But that’s not why I hate peanut butter. She did buy me a whole can of Peter Pan Peanut Butter” her eyes had gone soft, her mind transported to the memory of her turning the key on the tin can to open it, the pure smell of ‘peanut’ hitting her nose for the first time. Nancy looked into her face, awestruck, counting the constellations reflected in her gaze and the untold depths to her freckles.

“It wasn’t sweet and it tasted like shit.”

The moment shattered like a wine glass on a concrete floor, so abrupt and unexpected that Nancy forgot that the whole point of this story was that Robin hated peanut butter. What? She was suddenly inconsolable, stricken by giggles and heaving for breaths as she rolled away from her partner, unable to even pretend she could remain in that beautiful moment.

“Nancy oh my god!!!” she heard Robin squeal between panting laughter, “It wasn’t that funny! Calm down!“ Nancy felt arms pulling her up and into a stringy embrace, felt puffs of laughter on her cheeks and kisses on her nose as she laughed and laughed. She allowed herself to be pulled down from the hood of the car onto the grassy hillside, rolling and laughing, tears leaking from her eyes as she imagined a baby Robin Buckley grabbing a whole spoonful of peanut butter and just absolutely gagging.

After laughing and giggling and exchanging more soft kisses, Nancy looked at Robin with determination.

“I’m going to get you to like Peanut Butter if it kills me, Robin Buckley.”

#russian robin #ronance #stranger things #st4 #russian spy au #alternate universe #Just having fun here don't mind me #this became WAY LONGER than I thought it would go #based on actual conversations with my friends who were grade school aged in the USSR #the soviet union is not russia and it kills me when people equate them as the same #different countries babes #my writing #i might draw somethin #long post

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craycraybluejay · 4 months

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Ok I'm about to say something people will not like. Ahem.

The worst person you will ever meet will probably be a middle-aged to nearing senior status cishet white woman from a post-soviet country with nothing remarkable about her save for a really mean attitude and a face that while fine to look at objectively makes you feel like she might beat you publicly. And she will probably have popped out a few children who are suffering under her reign. And she will show her bad personality to you unprompted even if you are complete strangers. And everyone around her will know she's kinda a horrible person but be too afraid or nonconfrontational to say anything to her face. And she may come with a husband that drinks too much and has a warped definition or terms like "discipline" and "love" but that's a coin toss because this genre of person has hobbies like being rude to strangers, having divorces, and spending hours on their already fine appearance. And you will be very lucky not to know her personally but instead to have only met her a few times.

-10/10 genre of person. avoid at all costs. do not try to confront or fix or anything of the sort.

#don't take this too seriously #i think the universe just really likes showing me the same person in different fonts repeatedly #but also like #iykyk #post soviet #weirdly specific #tw child abuse mention #call me prejudiced but this genre of person absolutely exists and is horrible #bone nausea horrible #and its not all russian/soviets or even all soviet women. just specifically this kind. like i said iykyk #delete later #vent ish #i have met many people of many origins races ethnicities ages personalities etc. but this specific breed of human is insufferable to me

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gregor-samsung · 2 years

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The Orphanage [Parwareshghah] (Shahrbanoo Sadat - 2019)

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sinisterjelly · 7 months

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i've only started this book and i'm already obsessed. why did he say that thing about the faces glowing pink and breath trailing like a cloud as if he's not describing the weather they're both experiencing right now? the snow hid all the dirt? Tom Clancy WHAT are you talking about

#reading #the hunt for red october #tom clancy #why is he describing a soviet city like how people assume middle ages were?#i'm not gonna mention vodka it's just too easy

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savage-kult-of-gorthaur · 1 year

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BEWARE HIS OMEGA DESTROYER AND CARBONADIUM SMASH HYPER-COMBOS.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on character art of Omega @$*!#&% Red from "Marvel vs. Capcom 2: New Age of Heroes" (2000), published and developed by Capcom. Artwork by Naoto "Bengus" Kuroshima.

PROFILE/POWERS: "Omega Red is a mutant with super-human strength, agility, speed, endurance, durability, and reflexes. He is also able to secrete a pheromone from his body known as "Death Spores", poisonous chemicals that kill or sicken anyone in his immediate vicinity. On humans this works instantly, but meta or superhuman beings can withstand the effects for an extended period of time.

His primary weapons are the Carbonadium tentacles implanted on the underside of each of his wrists. He uses the tentacles to either ensnare or whip his enemies. His bodily tissues are tougher than the average human, thus allowing him to endure great impact that would seriously cripple or kill a regular human. His red body armor also lends to his high durability, allowing him to withstand powerful energy blasts.

Omega Red has the need to absorb the life essence of victims in order to sustain his pheromones. He uses his cables as conduits for the deadly chemicals to drain his victims. Absorbing the life force of another speeds up his natural healing factor, as well as keeping him alive and active. His healing factor allows him to recover from a punctured lung within seconds."

Source: https://marvelvscapcom.fandom.com/wiki/Omega_Red.

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