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pupkyoshiro
Still Lost 🧡
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Untitled
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Top Big Data Courses
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Geriausi linkai
mushroommanstan
Shigaraki Simp Sanctuary
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i don't really think misha collins situation is the same as tswift and shawn mendes though
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bob carlos clarke in sex: take a walk on the wild side (masterpieces of erotic fantasy photography) - tony mitchell (2002)
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the point of art is not to be great but to make it transparently obvious that there is something wrong with you
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Shout-out to all the yuri artists who are having to buckle down and teach themselves how perspective works because of Marcille's ears.
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i didn’t do hourlies but here’s something that happened to me yesterday
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My last 3 ship commissions. I’ve got at least 2 more on the to do list. Feel free to contact me if you are looking for one. #commissionart #commissionsopen #starshipart #starship #customart #startrek @StarTrek
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Star Trek's crazy ass 28 day total runtime leaving everyone else in the shade
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EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt
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A 28-year-old motorcyclist died in Washington State on Friday afternoon because a dipshit Tesla driver rear-ended him at speed. A Snohomish man, 56, was commuting in his 2022 Tesla Model S when he activated the car’s camera-based advanced driver assist system and according to his statements to police, began looking through his phone. With nobody paying attention to the car’s actions, the Tesla software ignored Jeffrey Nissen on his motorcycle and continued on at speed. The car rear-ended the two-wheeler, Nissen was flung from the bike, and his life ended pinned underneath the electric car, where he was still lodged when police arrived to the scene.
Tesla claims another life.
Reminder that even if you are personally aware of how dangerous Tesla vehicles are and vow to never ride in one, they can still kill you.
My own driving habits have changed around them. I always give Teslas extra space, avoid following them directly, and expect them to stop or swerve suddenly without notice.
Cannot count the times I've pulled up next to a Tesla at freeway speed, noticed the driver playing on their phone. Tap the horn. They look up with surprise.
Please, don't be that guy.
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Stingray, A Soft and Simple Shanty
“Dr. Richards wants that data.” Diane said to me, short dark hair barely falling past the backs of her ears. She was dressed in swirling psychedelic patterns, a base of deep sea green with crescents and reaching coral limbs of red and pink and blue.
“Dr. Richards will get that data. If he wants to find a better way to get a reading of strange mineral deposits several miles down and three hours sail off the coast of Oahu then he can do it himself. Until then, he'll take the time table I give him.” I said, standing up tall.
Diane stopped, a smile kinking up the right side of her lips.
A stark white bodysuit and crimson shorts, boots and gloves. A red strike up the center with a starburst taking up most of my chest and a helmet tucked under one arm with no facial features save for a curved arrow pointing down. The suit's “cape” or “wings” extended down from each arm, segmented with long stripes like the feathers of some titanic sea bird.
“What?” I asked her, smiling as if I didn't already know the answer while she approached me. She set down the clipboard against the bolted down table on the deck of our research boat. She pushed herself up on her tiptoes and kissed me.
I sighed, closing my eyes softly and wrapping my arms around the small of her back. Cursing the suit's environmental seal for not letting me feel her warmth on mine.
“Just thinking about how dashing a figure you cut, Stingray.” She said, taking the helmet out from under my arm. She fitted it over my head gently, clicking both latches shut in one motion. With a shrill little beep the helmet's HUD flashed to light in a squint inducing shade of red that wouldn't be lost against the ocean backdrop.
“'Stingray' is for when I'm doing something unwise around people with guns or who can toss trucks like footballs. Now what you CAN say is that Dr. Walter Newell, savant oceanographer and inventor cuts a dashing figure. Stingray is a part-timer.” I said, sweeping her back up into my arms and getting close. “Your husband is here for every second.” One of my gloved hands reached down over her forearm and laced my fingers into hers, running the tips of my fingers along the gem of her wedding ring. A teardrop of aquamarine in gleaming silver. Yes, Aquamarine. No one can ever accuse “us” superheroes of not being blunt as battering rams.
“When you get back from your day job, Mr. Part-Time. I'd like to take you up on that…” She said as I stepped up on the edge of the boat.
“Mmm, careful. Bad for the ecosystem if I start turning sea water to steam on contact.” I said and thrust my arms out to either side, wings snapping up, glittering red in the sun.
(Here it issss~)
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Oh! He's here! He's here he's here!
One more W for the rogue's gallery ladies and gents!
Action Comics 340
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Conan sees Lovecraftian nightmares and says "Nah, I'd win."
Conan the Barbarian 117
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