antoniacarbonell:

y’all have you ever thought about the fact Anthony Edward Stark is a fucking genius.
g e n i u s. this boy hacked the Pentagon more than once as a teen. he graduated MIT age seventeen. I repeat, this boy had a degree before most people hit college.

he miniaturised an arc reactor in a cave with a box of scraps.

listen I just have a lot of feelings about this man okay

tony stark post-cap 3: *is justifiably emotionally destroyed and isolated from a great portion of the team he risked his name and life to protect* *has found out that the traumatic grief story he spent his whole adult life trying to adapt to was a lie, and the truth was being kept from him by someone he considered a friend* *has every reason to retreat into unbelievable surliness after all of this* *probably might have, on some level*
also tony stark: *low key grins as he watches the phone line blink with ross’ message* *designs mobility aids for rhodey* *asks if rhodey needs a cup-holder attached to his mobility aid* *designs a wrist thing that projects a cool holographic display for a fifteen-year-old kid* *basically has SO MUCH LIGHT AND KINDNESS AND LOVE INSIDE HIM TBH*
me: ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

duskirises:

farashasilver:

karrius:

D&D players will always come up with the most bizarre, workable solutions to problems when you least expect it.

In one game I ran, the party needed to find a magical artifact and didn’t have any idea where it was at all. So they decided to use Commune to figure it out – but Commune as a spell only lets you ask yes or no questions, and get an answer out of it. So they took a map of the continent, drew a line down half of it, and asked “Is the artifact on this half of the map?”. They then continued, narrowing the artifact’s location down further and further, until they were able to pinpoint the exact building in question.

This reminds me of the last campaign I was in, when my husband played a Telepathic Psion. When we were coming up with our inventories at the beginning of the game, everyone else is putting down normal shit like horses, packs, travel provisions, money.

My husband asked for a bear trap.

The DM (who happened to be coolkidmitch) asked him what the hell he could possibly need a bear trap for, to which my husband only said, “You’ll see.” After about twenty minutes of figuring out what this bear trap would weigh, the skill my husband would have to roll in order to use it, and a bunch of other minutiae, my husband had a bear trap in his inventory.

Now, all of us kind of forgot about the bear trap while we were adventuring along on our escort quest (during which my husband’s Psion regularly tried to convince one of our employers that there was a golden acorn/tree of life/fountain of youth/whatever the fuck in the forest so she would wander off and get herself eaten by bears – she was really rude) until we run into a situation where we’ve been surprised by the locals and nobody can draw a weapon without causing a real problem.

My husband pulls the bear trap out of his saddlebag, holds it out to the nearest goon, and says the goon needs to roll a will check. When asked why the goon needs to roll a will check, my husband calmly replies, “He’s being offered the fanciest hat he’s ever seen in his life, and he really wants to put it on.”

Moment of silence around the gaming table as all of us realize that my husband is trying to end the encounter by convincing a goon to put a bear trap on his head like a hat.

The goon failed the will check.

My favourite thing that has ever been done in a game was what we call the tale of kobald jesus.

Our halfling cleric had been given a magical item that could cast three different spells, but he didn’t have a good enough spellcraft check to use it properly, so it was up to the dice as to which spell came out.

In the previous room he had used the rod and blinded a few enemies and half our party in the process, we finished the room but only had enough spells to cure blindness on two out of three people who needed it so we decided since the cleric had been the one to blind us, he would be the one to stay blind until we could find a place to rest and get our spells back.

So we go through a hallway to the next room and in the room there is a pit with a bridge that’s been cut and a dozen kobald archers looking at us from the other side. We aren’t a party that’s all that well fit for long range, I’m the only one that’s really suited to it and 1v12 doesn’t sound like a good idea.

So we quickly run back into the hallway to try to think up a strategy.

Our cleric goes ‘hey! I’m already blind so I can just cast the blindness spell out there while the rest of you stay in here so you don’t get blinded.

Well he goes on out, uses the rod

And casts light on himself.

So he’s standing there, glowing like a torch, kobolds going, what is this idiot doing?

So at this point the conversation gets away from us a bit and we start joking about a previous battle where our ranger/fighter leap over the hoard of enemies and started fighting them from behind and the phrase ‘where is your god now!’ was used and someone went wait, the cleric is sitting out there glowing like a jack o lantern, why don’t we bluff and pretend he’s a god.

Queue the lot of us scrabbling to figure out how we can help with this illusion and the wizard goes ‘I can levitate him!’ and the bard made a massive bluff check with the ranger/fighter and our dwarven fighter making assist checks so it now sounds like multiple voices are talking.

We successfully convinced the kobalds that this was their new god and he would lead them to salvation. All of this while the poor blind cleric is now hovering above and open gorge with no idea what is going on cause he wasn’t in the hallway when we came up with this plan.

Later on we found the kobald town and all of our new disciples’ heads were on pikes but whatever.

downpourstars:

i’m not gonna pretend i’m above wanting people to use the names of my favourite charactes as nicknames for me

liminalpolytheist:

liminalpolytheist:

ilzolende:

andhishorse:

speakertoyesterday:

shiraglassman:

learningftw:

bigsis144:

eridaniepsilon:

backonrepeat:

eridaniepsilon:

kat2107:

elodieunderglass:

ravenpuffheadcanons:

cuddlyaxe:

eruriholic:

beefmilk2:

pansoph:

for chinese new year they get all these famous actors and comedians together and they do a lil show and one of the comedians was like “i was in a hotel in america once and there was a mouse in my room so i called reception except i forgot the english word for mouse so instead i said ‘you know tom and jerry? jerry is here’

jerry is here

my chinese teacher once shared this story in class about someone who went to the grocery to buy chicken, but they forgot the english word for it, so they grabbed an egg, went to the nearest sales lady and said “where’s the mother”

When I was a teenager, we went to Italy for the summer holidays. We are German, neither of us speaks more than a few words of Italian. That didn’t keep my family from always referring to me when they wanted something translated because “You’re so good with languages and you took Latin”. (I told them a hundred times I couldn’t order ice cream in Latin, they ignored that.) Anyway, my dad really loved a certain cheese there, made from sheep’s milk. He knew the Italian word for ‘cheese’ – formaggio – and he knew how to say ‘please’. And he had already spotted a little shop that sold the cheese. He asked me what ‘sheep’ was in Italian, and of course, I had no idea. So he just shrugged and said “I’ll manage” and went into the shop. 5 mins later, he comes out with a little bag, obviously very pleased with himself.
How did he manage it? He had gone in and said “’Baaaah’ formaggio, prego.”

I was done for the day.

This makes me feel better about every conversation I had in both Rome and Ghent.

I once lost my husband in the ruins of a French castle on a mountain, and trotted around looking for him in increasing desperation. “Have you seen my husband?” I asked some French people, having forgotten all descriptive words. “He is small, and English. His hair is the color of bread.”

I did not find my husband in this way.

In rural France it is apparently Known that one brings one’s own shopping bags to the grocery store. I was a visitor and had not been briefed and had no shopping bag. I saw that other people were able to conduct negotiations to purchase shopping bags, but I could not remember the word for “bag.”

“Can I have a box that is not a box,” I said.

The checkout lady looked extremely tired and said, “Un sac?” (A sack?)

Of course. A fucking sack. And so I did get a sack.

I once was at a German-American Church youth camp for two weeks and predictably, we spoke a whole lot of English. 

When I phoned my mom during week two I tried to tell her that it was a bit cold in the sleeping bag at night. I stumbled around the word in German because for the love of god, I could remember the Germwn word for sleeping bag.

“Yeah so, it’s like a bag you sleep in at night?”

“And my mother must probably have thought I lost my mind. She just sighed and was like ‘So, a Schlafsack, yes?”

Which is LITERALLY Sleeping sac … The German word is a basically a one on one translation of the English word and I just… I failed it. At my mother tongue. BIG

My former boss is Italian and she ended up working in a lab where the common language was English. She once saw an insect running through the lab and she went to tell her colleagues. She remembered it was the name of a famous English band so she barged in the office yelling there was a rolling stone in the lab…

I’m Spanish and have been living in the UK for a while now. I recently changed jobs and moved to a new office which is lost somewhere in the Midlands’ countryside. It’s a pretty quaint location, surrounded by forest on pretty much all sides, and with nice grounds… full of pheasants. I was pretty shocked when I drove in and saw a fucking pheasant strolling across the road. Calm as you please.

That afternoon I met up with some friends and was talking about the new job, and the new office, and for the life of me I couldn’t remember the English word for pheasants. So I basically ended up bragging to my friends about “the very fancy chickens” we had outside the office.

Best thing is, everyone understood what I meant.

I love those stories so much…

Picture a Jewish American girl whose grasp of the Hebrew language comes from 10+ years of immersion in Biblical and liturgical Hebrew, not the modern language. Some words are identical, while others have significantly evolved.

She gets to Israel and is riding a bus for the very first time.

American: כמה ממון זה? (”How much money?” but in rather archaic language)

Bus Driver: שתי זוזים. (”Two zuzim” – a currency that’s been out of circulation for millenia)

that’s hilarious

I am officially screamlaughing at my desk from that last one OH MY 

Does everyone know the prime minister who promised to fuck the country?

So in Biblical Hebrew the word for penis and weapon are the same. There is a verb meaning to arm, which modern Hebrew semanticly drifted into “fuck”: i.e. give someone your dick.

The minister was making a speech while a candidate, bemoning the state of the world. “The Soviet Union is fucking Egypt. Germany is fucking Syria. The Americans are fucking everyone. But who is fucking us? When I am prime minister, I will ensure we are fucked!”

What the hell Biblical Hebrew.

Just guessing: The path from something like “give someone a blade” to “give someone a blade, if you know what I mean ;)” is probably not that difficult or unlikely.

^Given that the Latin word for sheath (like, for a sword) is literally “vagina”, I can verify that this metaphor is a time-honored one. 

Oh yeah and one time my Latin professor was at this conference in Greece and his flight was canceled, so he needed to extend his hotel stay by one more night.

Except he doesn’t speak a lick of modern Greek, and the receptionist couldn’t speak English.  Or French.  Or German.  Or Italian.  (He tried all of them.)

Finally, in a fit of inspiration, he went upstairs and got his copy of Medea in the original Greek (you know, the stuff separated from modern Greek by two and a half thousand years).  He found the passage where Medea begs Jason to let her stay for one more day, went downstairs, and read it to the receptionist.

She laughed her head off, but she gave him the extra night.