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#duckboard
oneleggedflamingo · 4 months
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15.08-23 (setting test.)
More of this. :3
- Vivera Rossi
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q0xqij4rfkl · 1 year
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Husband Catches Wife Cheating Real Lesbian Couple - Romantic, Sensual Sex With Intense Orgasm Blowing a big cumload Stepdaughter swallows cum Nude Indian desi women all in one having fun with the latina gina valentina panty tribute from my friend Dennis Hot young teen sucks daddys cock on camshow Fruit roll up blowjob and stunning brunette strip Guitar hero Pale Skin Orgamic Camgirl From Lovense Vibrator
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girls will be like “a sardine grows from the soil is such a fucking bop” and then start crying over what its meaning very likely is (especially considering the hidden lyrics)
(it’s me im girls)
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anubiarts · 7 months
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duckboard
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squishyneet · 1 year
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I wonder if the names Hashirama (pillar). Tobirama (door), Kawarama (space between two roof tiles), and Itama (spaces between two slats on a duckboard) are supposed to be some kind of play on words because of the Senjus’ Wood Release. However, I read that it was originally supposed to be a difficult jutsu, not a Kekkei Genkai and it was changed later. Itama is probably referring to the warring period they grew up in since it refers to duckboards specifically. But I think it’s interesting that all of them have to do with building/construction. Even though Hashirama is the “pillar” and represents the beginning of Konoha, his brothers are also “building blocks”. Tobirama is obviously the Second Hokage, but Kawarama and Itama also had a profound effect on Hashirama and his vision for Konoha.
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mercurygray · 1 month
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'Warmth' and 'lingering' for Marion because I am wheeling after that drabble from Harding's POV! Juno xx
She'd almost forgotten what the air raid alarm sounded like.
They had been almost routine, for a while, when they'd first arrived. Trying to get a jump on us, someone had joked then, but it was hardly a joke, watching the skies to the north light up with red and orange as Norwich burned and crumbled. It had been several months since the last one, and she had to admit that some of the old terror had returned, hearing the siren again and stumbling as quickly as she could out of bed and into her shoes, shrugging her dressing gown on and grabbing her flashlight to head for the brick-lined trench outside the barracks.
Several of the others were already outside, the new girls watching the flashes in fascination, and she shooed them along to the trench, counting heads, trying to make sure everyone was accounted for.
Colonel Harding loomed out of the darkness, looking strange in a burgundy dressing gown and slippers. "Captain Brennan, shouldn't you be at the shelter already?"
"I could say the same for you, sir," she said pointedly, shouting against the sound of the siren. "Just making sure everyone's clear."
"They're clear already, get going! And that's an order!"
He followed close on her heels, like he was afraid, somehow, that she wouldn't obey him. The temperature dropped, down on the duckboards between the brick walls, and she shivered a moment, tucking her hands under her crossed arms to keep warm. A pink quilted dressing gown seemed silly, out here in the dark, but it was fairly warm, even if the satin seemed to reflect more moonlight than it should. She was glad she'd thought to put on her shoes. The satin had been a luxury she'd allowed herself when she'd gotten her post overseas - something pretty she could put on at the end of the day to escape the uniform. You needed things like that, sometimes.
They were bombing close tonight - maybe the target wasn't Norwich at all. There were other airfields north of them, at Hardwick and Tibbenham and Hethel. Perhaps it was one of them. If she stood still enough she could feel the ground was shaking.
"Should have taken a jacket," Harding remarked, and she glanced at him trying to discern whether he meant her or him. He was close now, his tall frame giving off some warmth, and she was glad, in the moment, for the proximity. Another explosion landed, nearer still, and she accidentally stepped into him, her hand on his chest. His arm went automatically around her waist to steady her. "Easy now," he said quietly, as if she were an animal in danger of bolting. "You're too valuable to lose."
His arm was still around her waist, lingering protectively, and she had a sudden thought that there was something of the movie star about him - Ronald Colman, or Fredric March. "It's kind of you to say, sir."
The shaking stopped, and his arm fell away, taking half a step back in the dark. But there was still, for a moment, a warmth around her waist, and she shivered again, hoping for the all clear.
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theworldofwars · 10 months
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Battle of Poelcappelle. Walking wounded coming down and reinforcements going up a duckboard trench near Langemarck, 11 October 1917.
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konjaku · 3 months
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実葛[Sanekazura] Kadsura japonica
実[Sane] : Pit of a fruit; core; truth
葛[Kazura] : Creeping plant; also written as 蔓
It is a vine, but does not twine around much. It produces cream-colored flowers with five petals in summer and produces red berries from late autumn to early winter.
It is also called 美男葛[Binankazura]. 美男 means handsome man. When its stems and leaves are cut into small pieces and soaked in warm water, they produce clear mucus. In the past, this mucus was used as a hairdressing agent. And, the following passage is found in 古事記[Kojiki|Furukotobumi], the oldest extant book in Japan. It was also called Sanakazura.
者佐那葛之根を舂き。其汁の滑を取り而。其船の中之簀椅に塗りて。蹈みて仆る應く設け而。其王子者。布の衣褌を服て。旣に賤人之形に爲りて。檝を執りて船に立ちませり。
[Mata Sanakazura no ne wo usunitsuki. Sono shiru no name wo torite. Sono fune no naka no subashi ni nurite. Fumite taoru beku makete. Sono miko wa. Nuno no kinu hakama wo kite. Sude ni yakko no katachi ni narite. Kaji wo torite fune ni tachimaseri.] And, (the prince Ujinowaki-iratsuko) pounded the roots of Sanakazura in a mortar and took the slime of its juice, applied it to the duckboards in the boat, and worked it so that it would fall over if stepped on, then, that prince dressed in a cloth garment and in the form of a lowly man, took a pole and stood in the boat. Source: https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1027219/1/65 (ja) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kojiki
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Could we perhaps have more world war one content? 👀please?
This was just me playing around to see how Zee, Jack and Matt are under stress as a trio, and flex my action muscles again. I'm not... overly happy with it actually it kind of sucks, but hey, I'm writing again, so that's something? Blagh. If people wanted quality they wouldn't read my unedited halfassed shit. TW for violence, murder, and the general fuckery of something set in yknow, a warzone. 1.9k words. Also here on ao3.
1917 Australian Sector, Northern France
A dawn raid left three dead, and the rest of a throng of soldiers raved around the two pathetic German prisoners disarmed and left shivering in the mud. But not so pathetic that they hadn't fired their rifles and killed two Australian sentries, now dead on the duckboards with their coats dragged over their faces for shrouds.
"Do you see these?" Jack pulled viciously at the brass badges on his collar as he screamed at some poor fuck Zee was fairly sure had never heard a word of English before. He ripped the badge from his tunic and shoved it in the soldier's face, kicking his rifle away. Embossed in shining brass, the form of a ribbon stamped with his name, his real formal name was written. The entire sun-drenched continent-country that gave Jack's temper its fire. The Commonwealth of Australia. Above that, St. Edward's crown crested in the first rays of dawn.
"Rising suns, you daft bastard! Ever heard of the empire upon which the sun never sets? I'm his son! From the fucking world away! And you! You bloodthirsty cunts drag me here to this muddy shithole! Why? For some other muddy shithole? Fuck you!"
"Jack!" Zee stepped next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He tore away and walked a step further up the trench. People were watching now. "Jack, he doesn't understand what you're saying,"
"Then fucking translate, Zee, and maybe that blond cunt will hear me!" Jack shoved the pin closer into the man's face. Rail thin and pale and just as filthy as they were; he was a sorry specimen for what all the newspapers called blood-drinking baby-killing monsters. "Hear me, Ludwig? Do you fucking hear me? I'm here all the way from fucking Australia! We volunteered. Who's the furthest you've got? Some fucking conscript from Poland? I came here of my own free will to fucking end you!"
"All right, that's enough. Any more of this nonsense, and Matt will actually have time to eat his dinner without us nicking some," Zee said, forcing her voice to be light.
"I don't fucking care!" Jack turned away from the German, and his gaze fell upon her, heavy and alien if she hadn't already endured it at Gallipoli.
"These bastards drag us halfway around the world and---"
"You just said you volunteered!"
"You know what I mean, Zee! Fuck!" His hand was looking twitchy towards his pistol, and his fingers had found the button that held the holster close when Matt suddenly was between Jack and the shivering heap of kraut on the ground. Zee wasn't sure where he'd come from. He looked like he might have just torn someone's heart out between his solid red hands and dark eyes.
"Stand down," Matt took a step forward, and Jack was forced to take a half step back. But then he didn't move further.
"My prisoner, my job, right? We don't take prisoners anymore,"
Zee rounded the scene, just scooting past the parapet and Jack's back without him noticing.
"I don't take prisoners anymore," Matt said, and his voice was low, one of those dangerous wrecked whispers of his like he doesn't have the strength to speak or be human anymore. "You do,"
"Do I? I hadn't decided," Jack said in a thin, dangerous voice that made Zee really concerned for the first time. Matt glanced at her once, or maybe it was a trick of his goggles, but she had her hand in and out of Jack's holster before Jack even noticed. She was back around and had it hidden in her pocket before Matt spoke again.
"You just did," Matt said. He gestured at two soldiers. Not any of theirs, some poor unfed British fucks from East London who thought army bread was an improvement over what their mothers couldn't make without money for flour or fuel.
"Take these back to intelligence. Make sure they get there alive. Actually," He took both of their rifles and flicked the bolt back. The bullets clattered to the floor as he handed the rifles over once more. The soldiers looked cowed. With Matt's height and bloody hands, it was hard not to. "Now, maybe he will,"
Jack was silent and grim, but there was something easier to the set of his shoulders. His anger hadn't forced him into decisions he couldn't take back.
"You two," Matt gestured to Zee and Jack. "Dinner. Now. You almost actually let me eat my own care package. And for what? Some fucking kraut? Jesus."
They're digging into not-bad army bread with American jam with pilfered cheese after a bowl of soup that, for once, had a bit of flavour to it other than Zee would count as dog vomit. Jack's mood has lifted, and he hasn't noticed his missing pistol.
"What's the jam?" Jack asked around a faceful of the dark, sticky spread. She hadn't quite been able to figure that out either. It wasn't blueberry.
"Huckleberry," Matt said, washing his down with the ginger beer Jack had found in his pockets. No one could ever figure out how he could end up with a Greek dictionary, a bottle of wood varnish, two types of alcohol and an egg beater in his coat pockets, but there wasn't really much to complain about either. "It's American. Alfred sent it."
"It's fucking fantastic. Loads better than the plum slop we get," Jack said, slathering on another scoop and folding it in half with the soft cheese Matt had found. "Thank the yank for me, will ya?"
"Will do." Matt said. "I owe him a letter anyway."
"He mentioned when he's actually going to show up?" Zee asked. "It's been a month since they declared war.
"Whenever he'll get the most applause," Matt said, shrugging. "He's an attention seeker at heart, our dear brother."
Zee made a face. "Don't call him that."
"What?" Matt said. "He is. Dear Lord Father's beloved firstborn."
She didn't like it the fact that one imperial conquest could make her kin to another. Matthew was enough of a stretch, and he had earned his place as the head of their generation. She thumbed the greenstone around her neck and shook her head. "Sounds bloody weird, is all."
"Well, you'd best get used to it," Matt said with a lazy single-shouldered shrug. "They get on like a house on fire these days. And you'll probably end up taking care of him when he gets the shits."
"Isn't he a massive economy?"
"Yup," Matt returned, spooning a last bit of cheese onto a slice of bread with a deadpan look to him. "And he's never once been overseas without turning himself inside out."
"Gross."
"Like you've got room to talk, you spent how long in the latrines last---"
Zee looked up at a smeared outline of grey tumbling down the trench line.
"Bloody hell, we've got a runner!" Someone shouted. Soldiers got to their feet, and in an instant, they too were up and in pursuit. Shots ran out, a body in khaki dropped, and Jack let out a note of surprise and then a shout of rage and took off; all damn near six feet of him pummeling through soldiers until he'd disappeared into the narrow trench that led down to their listening posts.
"Where the fuck is my gun!" Jack screamed before she'd turned the corner. He was struggling with the German now and slammed the other body into the mud as he howled, "Eleanor fucking Kirkland, where the fuck is my gun?"
Still in her pocket. And he knew it. His eyes were wild, and he was crying, slamming the German down again. "That is two! Two of mine this fucker has taken! Give me my gun!"
"Zee! Give me my fucking gun!" He said again, voice dropping with rage. But he hadn't merely closed his hands around the German's throat if he wanted him dead so badly. The moment, the emotions of many men's hearts breaking in Jack's chest made him speak.
"He had a two-year-old daughter! And a wife!" Jack lifted the German by his lapel and lifted them both off the ground to stand. The German hit the parapet like a rock. "And now she's got fucking no one, you piece of shit!"
"Let's take him back for a court martial."
"Give me my fucking gun, Zee!" He looked back at her. "This coward ran; he doesn't deserve the fucking court-martial!"
She couldn't get close to break them up or Jack would take the pistol from her but she couldn't stay still either.
"Think about what you're doing!"
"All I ever do is fucking think about it!" Jack screamed. "Three years, all I've done is think about what we do and why! And for once, for once, someone deserves the fucking bullet I give them, and you take my fucking gun!"
"He surrendered!"
"He ran!" Jack released one more haunting shriek she didn't think she'd ever heard from him and his hands closed around the German's throat. He sobbed, and he squeezed, and Zee was running, bowling into him. She rugby tackled them both, sprawling in the mud. She didn't care if the German got free, if he ran.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"Stop!" She said, gripping his hands in each of her own. He wasn't a killer. Not yet. Not like their father, not like their uncles, not like Matt. "Jack, stop, please."
"Let me go! Let me go and let me kill the fucking bastard!"
"Stop fighting me!" Zee grunted, flipping Jack onto his side and wrenching his arm so tightly he'd dislocate if he kept fighting.
"He had a baby!" Jack said. "She'll have no Dad, and if I'd shot the fucking bastard, she would! But I didn't!"
"You had no way of knowing that!" Zee gripped his face. "Listen!"
"He's dead because of me!"
"Listen! Listen to me! You couldn't have known. You couldn't have known."
"Let me kill the fucking bastard! At least let me do that!"
"No!" She thrust his arm up a bit to make him howl in pain and yelled at him some more. "That's not who you are!"
"Fuck you!"
"No death penalty." She panted. "Not for you, not for him."
"Please, Zee," He heaved. The soldier was getting to his feet. She should let him go. But as soon as her grip eased, his hand would be at her pistol or his in her pocket, and the German would be dead.
"I'm sorry," She said. "I'm so sorry."
He tried to fight her. He was bigger, but she'd locked him in, and all he did was pull his own muscles nearly off his skeleton, bucking around like he was.
"I'll never fucking forgive you for this!" He said. She knew he would because they'd done it before.
As the German stumbled out of her peripheral, she almost let him go, but something made her hold him fast.
A gunshot ran out. The German soldier dropped. There was a hole in his face; his head was in a puddle. Jack cried out in surprise. Zee threw her head around Matt stood there, pistol out, face dark.
Matt holstered his pistol and stepped over the body, dragging them both up by their collars. Jack had gotten what he wanted but didn't look happy, staring at the body. Matt pushed Zee free and, one fist in Jack's coat lapels fixed him with a death's head stare that would put father to shame.
"If I ever hear so much as a whisper that you tried to kill another POW, you'll be on hospital duty for the rest of this fucking war. Do you understand me?"
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angelswing236 · 5 months
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"Do you know a way out of here?"
Fictober 2023
Category: Fanfiction
Fandom: Downton Abbey
‘Do you know a way out of here?’ a voice asked behind Thomas.
He turned and quickly flung up his hand, sketching a smart salute when he saw an officer, a captain, standing behind him on the duckboards, his uniform pristine, a whistle around his neck, his pistol in his holster, a long scar down his cheek.
‘Where do you want to go, sir?’ he enquired, politely.
‘Do you know a way out of here?’ the captain repeated.
Rude, Thomas thought, but the quality were often oblivious to the lower classes. It wasn’t much different in the Army when it came to the officers and the rank and file.
‘If you go down that trench to the crossroads of Piccadilly and Leicester Square, sir, you’ll find a communications trench leading back to the support line trench,’ Thomas said, twisting to point to where he meant. ‘They’ll be able to give you directions to where you want to go from there.’
When he turned back, the officer was gone, nowhere to be seen. Thomas frowned, the captain’s behaviour annoying him. Why ask the question if you weren’t going to bother to listen to the answer?
He had to admit, though, the man was stealthy. He hadn’t heard him walk up behind him and he hadn’t heard him leave either. And he must have moved quickly to get beyond the dog-leg in the trench in the seconds before Thomas turned back to him.
‘All right, Barrow? I could murder a cup of your tea. Put the billy can on and I can even offer you a biscuit. A parcel’s come through from my missus,’ Corporal Atherton said as he came around the dog-leg, raising his prize in triumph, Corporal Slate beside him.
‘Sounds good,’ Thomas replied, perking up at the thought of something sweet instead of the same old same old in the ration packs. ‘Did you see that officer? Did he find his way out?’
‘What officer?’ Atherton said, perching on the fire step to unwrap his parcel.
‘The one that just left. He asked me if I knew the way out and then disappeared back where he’d come from when I was in the middle of pointing out how to get to the communications trench.’
Atherton shrugged. ‘Didn’t see no officer. Ain’t nobody awake down there. They’re all catching forty winks while they can before Fritz starts up with the sound and the light show again.’
Slate narrowed his eyes at Thomas. ‘What did he say to you, this officer? Exactly.’
‘He said, “Do you know a way out of here?”. He said it twice. That was it, though. He buggered off without so much as a thank you,’ Thomas sniffed.
Slate exchanged a look with Atherton. ‘He’s back.’
‘Now, now, Billy, don’t start all that again,’ Atherton said, shaking his head.
‘Who’s back?’ Thomas asked.
‘Captain Entwistle. He was a captain, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes. How did you know if you didn’t see him?’
‘Come on now, Billy. It’s just an old wives’ tale.’
‘No. It’s not. He’s definitely back.’
‘What do you mean?’ Thomas asked, a prickle of unease creeping over the back of his neck.
‘Did he have a whistle around his neck? Tall bloke? Cleanest uniform you’ve ever seen outside the barracks? And a pistol in a holster?’
‘Yes to all that. How did you know?’
‘Scar on his face?’ Slate asked, tracing his finger in a line along his cheek exactly matching the scar on the officer’s face.
‘Yes. What’s going on? You know him then?’
Slate shook his head. ‘No, I’ve never seen him, but others have. Usually right before summat bad happens.’
‘Don’t put the wind up the lad, Billy,’ Atherton said with a sigh.
‘What do you mean?’ Thomas pressed, the sense of unease pressing heavier on him.
‘We think his name is Captain Entwistle. He appears right before an attack, asks if you know a way out of here.’
‘So, he’s from the General Staff, is he?’ Thomas asked, puzzled why a captain would come asking the ranks the way out.
‘No. He’s not from anywhere. He’s not real.’
‘What do you mean, “he’s not real”? I saw him. I spoke to him. He spoke to me.’
Slate exchanged another look with Atherton. ‘Then you’d best take extra care of yourself.’
‘What? Why?’
‘He’s a ghost, Barrow. Rumour has it he died around these parts in ’15. He pops up before a battle or an attack asking the way out. And usually…’
‘What? Usually what?’ Thomas prodded, his heart thumping.
‘Usually, it’s not good news for the bloke he asks,’ Slate concluded, looking at Thomas with sympathetic eyes.
‘Why?’ Thomas pressed, needing to know.
‘They die. Or they get wounded at the least. Or they go mad.’
‘You don’t know that for sure, Billy,’ Atherton said quietly, shooting an apologetic glance at Thomas.
‘Well, it’s happened enough for there to be a pattern,’ Slate said, still eyeing Thomas. ‘If I were you, Barrow, I’d get as far away from here as I could without risking being court-martialled. If Entwistle’s spoken to you, you’re for it.’
Thomas stared at him, the prickle crawling down his spine. Screwing up his courage, he shook his head.
‘Nah, I’m not having that. I’ve had posh gits thinking they know better than me all my life. I’m not pandering to this one.’
‘Good for you, Barrow,’ Atherton said, approvingly.
‘Well, just be ready. That’s all I’m saying,’ Slate replied, ominously. ‘Maybe you’ll be the one to break the pattern.’
‘You can bank on it,’ Thomas said with a confidence he didn’t really feel. ‘Now, what about those biscuits and a cup of tea?’
‘Stick the billy can on then. You make the best tea I’ve ever had out here,’ Atherton replied, going back to his parcel.
Thomas headed for the dugout, pausing briefly, a shiver running down his spine, as the shadow of a tall officer with a scarred face faded beyond the dog-leg in the trench.
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sysirauta · 5 months
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Don't look.
It become pretty clear for this salkahi that why this old path was not used much nowadays.
The actual story behing this piece is that I saw this specific scene in a dream: nearly dark forest after sunset, old duckboard bridge over a brook, and two glowing eyes in that so said brook. I woke up before I got to know what that thing was.
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oneleggedflamingo · 2 years
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29.08-22
Misc.
- Vivera Rossi
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hzaidan · 2 months
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01 Work, The art of War, Nash, John's Oppy Wood, Evening, with Footnotes
John Northcote Nash (1893–1977)Oppy Wood, 1917. Evening, c. 1918Oil on canvasHeight 1828 mm, Width 2133 mmImperial War Museums The lower half of the composition has a view inside a trench with duckboard paths leading to a dug-out. Two infantrymen stand to the left of the dug-out entrance, one of them on the firestep looking over the parapet into No Man’s Land. There is a wood of shattered trees…
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asktheguardponies · 1 year
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Worldbuilding #23
Paramilitary griffons abandoned this trench section after a bomb failed to detonate after impacting the trench wall. (c919) The trench construction is fairly typical of the era, medium length log sections supporting the walls, and duckboards or planks for keeping above the wet mud. 
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jp-cuconyan · 1 year
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Bocchi the Rock! ep 11 | Kitarwin's Theory!
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Kita: Gotoh-san would never be in a place frequently visited by others. (Kitarwin's Theory!) Nijika: So where should we look? Bocchi the Rock! ep 11 | 1:30~
The upper right text means "New discovery! Closing in on the top-secret ecosystem of Hitori Goto".
This scene is a parody of "Darwin's Amazing Animals", a Japanese national TV documentary that is well known (at least in Japan).
In Japanese, this title is named as "ダーウィン が 来た" [Darwin ga Kita] (Darwin came) and the word 来た[Kita](came) is pronounced the same as her name. Therefore, 喜多[kita], the kanji of her name, is shown here instead of 来た(came), as a joke.
In a subtitle for overseas, the words Darwin and Kita are well combined and described as Kitarwin's Theory! Skillful job by the translator.
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Typical backdoor found commonly in Japanese high schools, which tends to be clammy as Kita said. Here may be a roofed passage leading to swimming pool, as it looks like lined with duckboards.
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leothil · 9 months
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Today I biked to one of the nature reserves in Helsinki and, using duckboards, walked out to an island where they keep sheep during the summer. I love these areas, most of the time you'd have no idea you're less than 10km from the city center.
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