#...the greek one and not the latin

[interiorlulus]

Nothing more irritating than narrow-minded people who wish to pretend they are knowledgeable intellectuals.

[starscream-is-my-wife]

Ok I understand why sparkling ocs are so popular designing one is addicting

Alt forms/ adult designs under the cut

So when he's littler he can be a Nissan atla, they're pretty cute, but reaching adulthood he'd be a Nissan big thumb, and getting a mod to have a trailer too.

Optimus only has a flat bed so Im doing the old reliable transformer design of putting stuff u don't know how to fit into the back. If he diddnt have a trailer, the bed sides could just be a part of his legs but he modded to have wings so he can get used to the weight distribution easier.

Big thumbs are 12 feet tall, G1 Optimus is a Freightliner making him also 12 feet, and G1 Ratchet is a Nissan cherry vanette, which are almost 6 feet (5"10 to be exact)

I thought that the big thumb would be a bit smaller then Optimus but damn, Ratchet is gonna have to deal with 2 giant trucks.

[sherdnerd]

I stg if I see one more "Justice for medusa's TRUE story!" post I'm gonna kill someone.

(TW: Assault mention)

The medusa is assaulted by posidon then cursed by athena for being assaulted in her temple only appears in Ovid's Metamorphoses, which is written as a purposeful subversion of Greco-roman myths. most are reframed or rewritten from just kinda a thing that exists or a black and white moral tale of why you shouldn't be hubristic to full on tragedies on the part of the person often getting their comeuppance or the monster. Heck in book 13 we get a love story starring Polyphemus, the cyclops from the Odyssey.

In general mythology, Medusa is just another monster. Ovid revises the myth to turn it into a tragedy. I absolutely love ovid's work, he does so many clever things with the myths, but for the love of the gods its the furthest from the real version you can get

[notacluedo]

all this pyrrhus talk got my thinking about that scene in the Aeneid where Andromache meets ascanius

[earthtooz]

just found out that one of dr ratio’s idles is an apple falling on his head whilst he is deep in contemplation.

i know this is a jab at isaac newton and now he discovered gravity, but may i just raise:

since dr ratio is greco-roman inspired, an apple being thrown at someone in Ancient Greece is also a proposal or declaration of love. so the apple that fell on his head was actually because of me, not isaac newton, thank you and have a blessed day.

[stefisdoingthings]

vash the stampede sitting on the ground like a loser compilation

[ni0x]

What's your favorite language?

Uhhhhhh

UHhhHhhhh

Latin?

[archaeology-findings]

Etymology of Dinosaur names

Tyrannosaurus rex: Directly translates to 'king tyrant lizard'. Tyrannosaurus came from the Ancient Greek túrannos, meaning tyrant, and saûros, meaning lizard. Rex was borrowed from the Latin rex, meaning king.

Velociraptor: Directly translates to 'swift thief', from the Latin vēlōx, meaning swift, and raptor, meaning thief.

Stegosaurus: Directly translates to 'roof lizard', from the Ancient Greek stégos, meaning roof, and saûros.

Triceratops: Directly translates to 'three-horned face', came from New Latin, from the Ancient Greek treîs, meaning three, kéras, meaning horn and ṓps, meaning face.

Allosaurus: Directly translates to 'different lizard', from the Ancient Greek állos, meaning different or other, and saûros. This is because at the time of its discovery, the allosaurus was the only known dinosaur with concave vertebrae.

Spinosaurus: Directly translates to 'spine lizard', from the Latin spīna, meaning spine or thorn, and the Ancient Greek saûros.

Brachiosaurus: Directly translates to 'arm lizard', from brachio, meaning relating to the arm, from the Latin bracchium, meaning arm or limb. This is because its forelegs are unusually longer than its hindlegs.

Ankylosaurus: Directly translates to 'fused/bent lizard', from the Ancient Greek ankúlos, meaning crooked or bent, and saûros. This may be in reference to ankylosis, a condition in which bones fuse together, since the dinosaur has some rear ribs fused to its vertebrae.

Iguanodon: Directly translates to 'iguana tooth', from the Spanish iguana (iguana) and the Ancient Greek odṓn, meaning tooth. This is because of the resemblance of its teeth to those of an iguana.

And my personal favourite (it's just so cute!), Micropachycephalosaurus: Directly translates to 'small thick-headed lizard', from the Ancient Greek mikrós (small), pakhús (thick), kephalḗ (head) and saûros. It was originally described as a pachycephalosaur, hence the name, however it has since been re-identified as a member of the Ceratopsia, as it lacks the thick skull roof of the the pachycephalosaurs.

Feel free to suggest your favourite dinosaur and I'll research the etymology of it :)

[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

Got to thinking today, about some cartoons I watched when I was a kid, called the Saints and Heroes collection( great stuff), and how it's all, y'know, saints! St. Bernadette! St. Francis Xavier! St. Nicholas! The Fatima story! Yeay! They're great 30 min. episodes for kids to learn a bit about catholicism's greatest saints! And in the heroes sections, they got Columbus: which is fine, they mainly focus on navigation and how he worked hard to achieve that level of education, lots of catholic stuff floating around in that one. They got Ben-Hur; classic jewish/early christian story, though not real, per se. Really good stuff. Great for christian kids.

Then we got the bloody ODYSSEY?!?!? Like, Greek pagan Odysseus running around the seas, killing monsters and suitors and tricking his way across the Mediterranean, all narrated by a Grandpa Owl?!? telling the story to his grandson owlet?!?! Very princess bride style... super weird in this context. None of the other films are narrated by animals. I'm not saying that kids shouldn't know the story of Odysseus, I'm just saying you can get serious whiplash watching chill saint movies for kids and then coming across The Odyssey, with no catholic connections, ( at least that's easily grasped by a child), getting thrown in the middle of the list and once you're done, brother you feel like you been in a fever dream. It's so bizarrely disconcertingly different in style to the rest of the films, too.

But at least they keep the fact that Odysseus 'slept around'( for lack of a better term), during those years at sea completely absent from the story. So it does have that in it's favour.

Still lots of fun to watch!

[anglerflsh]

How do you feel about Marcille Dunmeshi probably being Fantasy Italian

It's great she is so milanese coded to me. Va' che workflow questo dungeon etc etc. The one character I can think of that would survive italian school canonically. 10/10

[fortemelody]

i think if more people understood that latin is very much more than a language, and it’s practically a lifestyle, they would be so much more inclined to learn it. in this essay i will-

[archduchessofnowhere]

Letter from Duchess Ludovika in Bavaria to her niece, Countess Théodolinde of Württenberg (née Princess of Leuchtenberg):

Munich, 20 April, 1846

... I would not have thought of taking on a sub-governess, as I have an excellent nanny for the younger girls, with whom my Charles [Karl Theodor] is still with; but Hélène's character makes me wish to separate her from her sister Elise [Elisabeth]; without being mean, she has nevertheless influenced her sister, who is much gentler and of a very conscientious nature, but the elder one undermines her, and I am convinced that it is necessary to separate them as much as possible. My intention is: that the governess should manage the education, but so that she can take care of each one separately, I would like to take Mlle Richelle for fear of detouring from one to the other during this time. Also to take charge of French entirely, and to convey the lessons of M Zesage [?]. These are my intentions, but I can't make up my mind until I've heard back from the lady to whom I'd like to entrust my daughters. In the meantime I forgot to mention the reason for all these changes, which is that Miss Nembald is marrying Count Spreti, and will be leaving my daughters in the course of the summer! Thank God I always have good news from Louis [Ludwig Wilhelm], who is in such good hands! It's a great reassurance, and the 5 [children] I have left give me, as you can see, no shortage of work. For my Charles, I have the good fortune to have an excellent nanny capable of teaching him German, French, arithmetic etc. like a man, and who imposes more on him than a governor ever did on his brother, because he loves her very much - but it is not a small thing to rule this world! because other than that I have 2 teachers attached to our house who follow us on the campaign, one teacher of religion and the other, universal, for everything, because he teaches everything we can ask including Greek and Latin, for the boys and music. I kept him when Louis left, as he had only been with us for a few years. If he had had him earlier, he would have taken his education in a different direction, which would undoubtedly have been more successful...

[heedthesirenscall]

[Image 1 ID: A seven striped flag, its colors going as follows, ashen black, deep dark indigo, deep dark purple, purple, dark red, deep dark red, ashen black. There is a shadow around most of the flag, turning the stripes more a darker hue, except for a spotlight in the center, which contains an altered ashen black allion symbol. The the circle typically in the center of the symbol has changed to a Fibonacci spiral, and there are various lines throughout the six petals.]

[Image 2 ID: The same flag but without the shadow.]

[Image 3 ID: The same flag but without the shadow nor the symbol.]

Ephamousallion:

An allion term related to House of Leaves' use of love as consumption.

@radiomogai

[randomwriteronline]

His bad leg hurt like hell. Perditus clenched his teeth hard enough for his hairs to begin standing on their ends as he pulled himself out of the wreckage of his Thornatus.

Such a mighty vehicle, reduced to a pile of scraps.

Ain't that the way things go.

He looked down: like some sort of badly cut bread, chunks of fake meat parted to reveal that blasted prosthetic bone he was bound to until his flesh would at last be rotting off of him, scratched and bent and still half melted in places - a cheeky last parting gift from Death after he'd paid the rest of his life to evade it.

The ground beneath him was hard, and rocky, and uncomfortable to crawl upon on all fours. He had no other choice, so the stone kept digging into the heels of his palms and he kept biting back groans.

Then he came.

He made no light, no sound, no nothing, but he had a wire pinned to Perditus's neck, a mental link that grew slack or taut like a puppet's string: and he felt it pull suddenly, and a splendid smile came to into his thoughts before he even turned to see it.

Velika stood. He was tall, like this, unburdened by the broken body he'd forcibly fit himself within for centuries. His back was straight, his hair was long; his eyes had a shine to them, almost mischievous, almost genial, a bright intelligence that made his gaze so innocent, as though he could not hurt even the most insignificant of ants.

Velika stood, like he'd stood before him on that horrible day, identical in every way down to the very clothes he wore, down to his very expression: he stood like'd stood back then, looking every bit divine.

Numb uncaring nihilism squirmed within Perditus.

It fought, it thrashed, it rebelled, it clawed and gnawed and punched and kicked, but its adversary was too great: his last shield was torn apart from within, its guts spilled across oval pupils.

"NO!"

Velika stood, smile dropped.

"NO!" Perditus barked again, scrambling away, pain suddenly an afterthought in the wake of animalistic fear: "NO! NO! NO!"

Velika stood, with eyes wide and still from the surprise.

"NO! NO MORE! NO MORE! NO MORE!"

His hand searched for purchase. It found only a sharp descent which teared into it, ripping its wet flesh apart, and then a long void.

Velika stood frozen and unblinking as the frightened eyes capsized, disappeared from sight, when the body was dragged down the ravine by gravity as the Glatorian still screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and then did not scream anymore.

Perditus laid at the bottom of the cliff, curled up in a strange and ugly pose, at the end of the long intermittent trail of his blood.

He gazed into the rock with the same impossible terror.

Velika stood, staring at his bent neck from so high above him with only a blank expression. Then he simply left, as suddenly as he'd come: with no light, no sound, no nothing.

-

Gelu walked in: "Perditus is dead," he said gravely.

No reply came.

Then softly, very softly, Atakus spoke.

He said something, something indeed, but nobody understood it: his voice was too low, his breaths were too loud. He grasped his chest as he stumbled right into the wall - grasped at his frantically beating heart threatening to break his ribcage and rupture his lungs.

He walked out of the walls that had been his prison unhindered as no Agori nor Glatorian made any move to stop him. The Toa turned to look at them, confused by their paralysis, unsure what to do.

The Potori's escape was not a long one: his trembling limbs gave in as he fell on the sands, mere bio away from where he'd started.

A sound came out of his mouth.

And it rose, and it rose, and it rose, until it became a piercing wail.

From inside the small building, the others watched him. They watched him tear his armor off to beat his chest like a fury; they watched him grab at his wool and pull, pull, pull until it was torn off of him; they watched him fold in on himself, howling like a fox doomed to die in a forgotten rusted trap, as he he slammed his head into the ground over and over.

Raanu shot out an arm to block the Toa trying to reach the screaming thing: "Leave him," he murmured. "He'll be done soon."

"He's hurting himself," the artificial being replied, still puzzled, incapable of understanding, brilliant crystal eyes traveling between the elder and the sorry spectacle so close and yet so far from them, "He's hitting himself - what is happening? What is he doing?"

"He's mourning."

Atakus wailed.

He spoke his mother tongue, his old stone dialect, calling helplessly for many things at once - a mother, a brother, a cousin, a lover, a friend, a healer, a patron, a slave, a warrior, a saint... What could he do? What could he do? There was no wail for a gambler, no wail for a beggar. No wail for someone he could not define, and so his grief-stricken mind cobbled together everything, everything, every form and code he could remember.

A voice reached him eventually, after his chest was battered with bruises and his nails had half shaven his head: the words entered his ears and made a nest within, forgotten immediately - except for one.

He turned his head with wrathful crazed eyes and teeth bared: "FRIEND!" he repeated spitefully: "We were no friends!"

He stood fulminously once more with his dagger in hand, unable and unwilling to recognize who he was talking to, unfocused vision incapable of distinguishing materials or colors or armor designs from one another from within the spiraling throes of his madness.

"If we'd met in the War he would have blown my head open!" he shrieked. "He would have run me over until my bones were fine mist, and I would have done the same to him!"

Just as quickly as his rage had come, it submitted to invincible pain: Atakus shivered harshly, losing his grip on his weapon and twisting his face into a horrible grimace, and clutched again his chest with a horrid strangled cry.

"Oh Perditus, oh Perditus..." he sobbed softly between heaving breaths. He panted as he tried desperately to suck in as much air as he could while sinking to his knees; his teeth gnashed together once more, with his horizontal pupils turned upwards towards his spooked interlocutor lit by a frightening fire and his voice pitched high into a garbled growl: "You have no idea what it means...! To be a debtor for life...! To have each new breathing second be an inescapable fee...! To have every moment of your life stolen from your hands, because that is how you paid your survival...!"

A groan left him, foam building in his mouth, trickling from his lips. He sunk blunt nails into his chest before slamming his fists into the hole his faulty heart called home until it adhered to the rhythm of his furious beating, until this body that stifled him like a too warm blanket followed his orders and kept functioning without needing the appearance that blasted loaner of a god, without forcing him to renew that contract he'd signed so young and foolish and close to an anguishing death.

"You don't understand!" he wailed, "You will never understand!"

Something struck him. Something rattled along the drumming of his infernal organ and sparked a wrong connection in his nerves, setting them on fire, devouring part of his brain.

Uncomprehending eyes watched him grab at the air behind his nape with crazed purpose, bringing it to his mouth where his dull straight teeth bit down on it as though it were a wire: he thrashed around it, pulling with his hands and jerking his head back repeatedly, violently, snarling like a rabid beast and desperately trying to cut something that wasn't there.

"BESTIAL THING!" he growled and spat and hissed, "BLASTED GREEDY BASTARD! HORRIBLE, DIGUSTING, DAMNED--"

With a horrid shriek he jolted again: his jaw snapped open, his fists parted with a sudden motion, and he stumbled back panting as if he'd just lifted the sky back into place.

"I DEFY YOU!" he howled into the nothingness. "I DESERT YOU!"

He laughed, horrid and mirthless, for only a moment.

Then he crumbled upon himself, clutching his chest again with both hands, whimpering in anguish.

"Perditus, Perditus, oh, Perditus..." they heard him sob under his breath like a prayer when they approached him, to bring him back in so that his sputtering heart could rest: "Oh Perditus, giatí me áphēses, giatí me áphēses? Ḗmastan oi mónoi pou mporoúsame na kataláboume, oi mónoi… Oh, Perditus, giatí me áphēses, giatí me áphēses móno se autón ton tromaktikó kósmo?"

-

"Perditus has died to evade me," Velika said with a blank expression.

Pohatu felt his heart stop for a moment.

"Do you think he's made a good choice?"

"What?"

"Do you think he's made a good choice?"

He stared into the Great Being's unmoving eyes.

"What sort of question is that?" he asked, appalled.

"Do you think he's made a good choice?"

"He's dead," the once Toa ignored him. He held his disgustingly soft face in his hands, still shocked. He would not pretend he'd liked the man for what little he'd known of him, not after his trap had almost gotten Kiina and Kopaka injured and was the reason he'd accepted to be stuck amongst these infuriating gods to keep them from trying to kill his siblings and friends; but he had still been a sapient living being like the rest of them, and the way his end was spoken of made his flesh seize within him until his mouth tasted nauseous and his vision was swimming. "He's dead - Mata Nui... What happened to him?"

"He's died to evade me." Velika repeated once more, empty tone unchanged. "Do you think he's made a good choice?"

Patience depleted, Pohatu snapped: "What does that even mean?"

"Would you consider death a viable path to escape your situation?"

Their brown eyes mirrored each other as they both stared.

"How are you this crosswired when you have no wires to cross?" the once Toa asked back.

Velika's mouth opened: "Ah ah," he said without intention. The sound fell from his parted lips like change from a broken vending machine. "Would you consider death a viable path to escape your situation?"

He stood across him, blocking the door completely with his silhouette: his back was straight, his head held still.

Pohatu bolted further away from him, suddenly terribly frightened, hitting his spine hard against the wall: "What is wrong with you!" he cried out.

Velika remained perfectly still, a pillar of salt unmoved by any and all passions: "Would you consider death a viable-"

His hand startled.

The words died on Velika's tongue, and he widened his eyes. He looked down to his palm: his ring finger stood out, dislocated, as if it had been yanked or bent with great force.

A strange hissed whine left him.

His eyes (not as blank as before, alight with pain and something close to fear) settled back on the Toa with a snapping movement as he hurriedly held his injured appendix in its twin: "You'll answer later." he decided for him.

His clothes rustled like leaves caught in a temperamental wind as he walked away at a quick pace, relieving the doorframe of his terrifying presence - abandoning only the vague shape of his own afterimage there, like a large spot of darkened static lingering in the vision of one who has looked into the sun too long.

Pohatu waited, and waited, until the sound of his steps disappeared.

"There's something wrong with him," he murmured.

"I noticed," Takanuva tried to joke from his hiding spot as his armor slowly reflected the light in the room in a way that colored it white and gold once more.

But his older brother did not laugh, gazing past the door, still fearing the return of that unnatural empty voice, those unnatural empty eyes: "I mean it," he whispered, dead serious, thinking of Bohrok: "There's something wrong with him."

-

shout-out to The End Of Hope by @bread-into-toast, which grabbed me by the fucking throat this evening and is the sole reason any of this got written. wonderful zine. delightfully unsettling. go read it.

[whatsthatmagiccard]

To follow up the full art, how about a full name?

[dazzelmethat]

Worst part of having ocs you made when you were 12 that you still use: changing their names is like pulling teeth.

Wanting to experiment with name meanings or what culture they're from feels impossible when you already have certain sounds associated with them...