Apr. 21st, 2017

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dma-dima:

(via $I got The powerful queen)
Perhaps you are Titania, fairy queen of the forest. Or maybe you’re Cleopatra, clever queen of Egypt. Possibly you’re Lady Macbeth, who becomes queen of Scotland in the fullness of time. The point is there are many ways to be a queen, and whether you live or die depends entirely on how many murders you committed, oversaw, or actively encouraged during your reign. (Unless you are Anne Boleyn, in which case good luck with that.)
((I can totally see this honestly, perfect for DiMA.))

Off topic, but ESPECIALLY if you’re Anne Boleyn, because you were instrumental in bringing a new religion to your country and and overturning a corrupt church. Seriously, it really annoys me that people forget that the only reason Henry VIII broke with Rome was because Anne pushed it to him, and no, not because he wanted to marry her (although that was her excuse) but because she was a legit religious reformer who wanted the bible read in English and accessible to all.

Protestantism in the form we know it today would not exist eithout Anne Boleyn.
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They’re in the Boston Bugle offices when it happens.

Nate is keeping up a rattling account of what’s on the computers- the articles for the 24th of October 2077. “There’s one here on Eddie Winter,” Nate taps through, then barks a laugh, “And on baseball, yeah, sure nothing’s gonna stop a victory-”

He stops dead, like a holotape just jammed. Nick looks up quickly and Nate has gone very, very still. His eyes are huge, breathing in upticks, faster and faster.

Shit. “Watch the doors!” He calls to Piper, then jumps down along the collapsed ceiling. Nate is ashen, all the warm colour gone from his skin and he’s starting to shake and this is bad. This is a very, very bad one and damn, it’d been more than a month since the last one-

He pulls Nate away from the terminal, and that’s the final trigger. Nate starts to scream.

Nick gets him down to the floor, grabs both his hands and holds him down. “Nate.” His keeps his voice low, under the high, wild shrieks. “Nate.”

“What the-” Piper’s strafing the room, confused.

“Just shoot if anything comes in!” They cleared the offices, but Nate’s loud enough to be heard outside. “Nate.” He continues. “You’re here. Nate. Just breath. It’s okay.”

It’s not. He can just about see the terminal from the corner of his eye-

-on Friday afternoon soldiers of the United States Army’s 184th Infantry Regiment opened fire on a group of unarmed civilians-

Oh hell. Nick feels sick. “Nate.” He continues, very softly. “It’s over. It’s gone. Shh.”

“Oh God!” Nate suddenly finds words. “Oh fucking- oh fuck no-”

“Shh,” He’s stopped fighting, at least. Nick sits back and pulls Nate into a hug, holds him close and tight. He’s shaking so hard his teeth are chattering and Nick can feel his own steel bones vibrate. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Nate pulls back, eyes wild and lost. “Nick- I- I- I did-”

“Not you.” And God- whether Jesus or Atom or the dead God under Dunwich Borers- he hopes those scientists suffered. He hopes those who made those damned pills burnt real painfully before they died. “You know it wasn’t you, pet. Look at me.”

Nate looks at him, then curls in on himself, a tiny ball to tuck up against Nick’s thorax, under his coat, curl up small and disappear. “It wasn’t you.” Nick rocks him. “That was someone else, a long time ago. You’re here now, Nateling. You’re here. You’re safe.”

Finally, he feels Nate give a tiny nod against his chest.

The worst is over. He looks up and Piper is at the terminal. She looks down at Nate, horrified.

“No.” Nick shakes his head. Not now. “Turn it off, please.”

And Piper, bless her, puts two bullets through the screen.
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slainte71:

O Brother Where Art Thou - 2000

I have to say this is one of the best serious musicals I’ve ever seen. Not because it’s the greatest, but that the songs blend so seamlessly into the film you can even forget it’s a musical. Between the music and the camerawork, it gives you such an amazing sense of time and place.
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safetytank:

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songofsunset:

xdominoe:

purplebloodedmajesty:

walkinchicken:

kotaku:

The End, by Alister Lockhart.

Bruh, if you don’t think that having historically significant events well documented from multiple perspectives is a good thing, then idk what the hell u doin.

Besides, like, that is literally a Giant Monster Rampaging Through The Town. What the fuck is the everyday person gonna do other than Tweet/Instagram/Post about it going “It’s the apocalypse you guys! Eyyyy lmao #apocalypse #deathrising #nofilter”?

#like come on your cellphone may not defeat the beast#but it can gain you like 50000 followers before the skies start raining blood so#who’s the REAL winner here? (via @purplebloodedmajesty)

And heck, even if your own death is inevitable getting information out could help save other people, even if it can’t save you. ‘Here are 20 livestreams of the giant tentacle monster including how it moves and attacks, how can we beat it?’ is way more useful than ‘an entire city got wiped off the map and things smell vaguely of calimari idk man’

reblogging for this perfection: ‘an entire city got wiped off the map and things smell vaguely of calimari idk man’ 

Point #1 on this here article talks about Robert Landsburg, a photographer who realized he wouldn’t survive the eruption of Mt St. Helens (too close to outrun the ash cloud) and used his own body to shield & preserve the photos and recordings he’d been taking during the explosion

these surviving photographs are still CRAZY VALUABLE to this day for the rest of the volcanologist community, since actual recordings of an in-process eruption are so dang rare

on-site documentation of any major disaster is gonna be VITALLY IMPORTANT to the people who are tryna figure out how to prevent that shit

tl;dr have your phone out, make your death-by-kaiju worthwhile to the scientific community

Dude, the world is ending. Stop bitching about young people nowadays.

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