Jul. 5th, 2019

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gorps:

Happy 4th of July!

Okay but guys. You didn’t lose a war against Vietnamese farmers. You lost a war against the Vietnamese military, a modern fighting force with tanks, bombs and aircraft, supported by a guerrilla insurgence. 

Even now it kills you to give these people the least bit of fucking credit.
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godlessondheimite:

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tyrannosaurus-rex:

the-itchy-bitchy-spider:

rollinbylimpbizkit:

hamtastrophe:

it’s sometimes hard to believe rasputin was real. like there’s no non-fucked up part of rasputin’s existence

did he do something problematic i thought he was just russia’s greatest love machine

basic (true) story: fanatical russian monk who has almost never shaved or washed and smells like goats shows up at the russian capital with a creepy look on his beardy face and everyone just assumes he’s a prophet or a saint because he’s got a cult following that believes he can cure illnesses. his stans are sexually obsessed with him and he gets just a fuckton of russian pussy wherever he goes cause apparently he can cure his true believers of illness with god-given dick magic. russia’s queen has him come stay at the palace and sets him up in luxury because she thinks he can cure her son’s haemophilia with the power of russian goat jesus, and they (allegedly) become lovers, probably, ‘cause she craves that unwashed goat-scented dick like the rest of his cult which she now  (allegedly) belongs to. 

then the worst assassins in the history of assassinations try to assassinate him, because all of russia is slutshaming the queen he has too much power over the royal family and it’s helping revolutionaries turn people against the royals. so these idiots have him round for tea and cakes which are poisoned with cyanide, but he is magically unaffected by poison they get the dose wrong and he doesn’t die, and then he drinks three glasses of wine, which are also poisoned, and he doesn’t die, so they tell him to look at a crucifix and shoot him in the chest with a revolver when he isn’t looking, and he doesn’t die, but they think he’s dead so one of them dresses in his clothes and gets driven to his apartment to make it look like he’s gone home to hide the crime, and when they come back he gets up and attacks them, so they stab him in the side with a knife, and he doesn’t die, and then he frees himself and runs outside, so they shoot him a few times more, including in the forehead, and they wrap his body up and chuck him in the icy river, and he doesn’t go into the water, so his body is found on the ice the next day. and get this…. he died…. of hypothermia.

additionally, everyone who wasnt in the party of getting rid of rasputin was pretty bummed out when they found him and his miracle dick dead the next day and there was a pretty bangin funeral of which the royal family themselves attended. however after the tsar was overthrown a few month later they exhumed his body and burned it because the new leadership was very adamant about making sure there were no ties left to honor the old monarchy. however this dudes body had never been properly prepped for a cremation which meant that under the extreme heat his tendons and ligaments began to retract and shrink causing his dead body to move and twitch around as if still animate. according to some testimony his body actually sat up straight on the pyre, and at least one spectator fired a gun at the body and another may have allegedly died of shock.

Rasputin was an old god from times before humans

He is like a cleric gone wild

“did rasputin do something problematic” i am going to die

Also he made the mistake of trying to advocate for Jewish people in the most antisemitic country at the time, so that might have something to do with it. 
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phlintandsteel-ao3:

When The End comes for real, it’s just as Crowley supposed, with Heaven and Hell united against humanity.  There are a lot of people who don’t believe what’s happening, but about half earth’s inhabitants do.  And they show up for the fight.  

The army humans have guns, there are doctors wielding baseball bats and taxi drivers with tire irons.  Masses of youths are forming up with nothing but broken bottles and spite to defend themselves with.  

Lucifer scoffs at them, his beauty already luring some people from their posts.  

Not too many of them, though.  Aziraphale has to believe that…

There may be millions of angels and demons among the ranks, united for a common goal, but there are billions of humans.

Crowley and Aziraphale are in the thick of it, of course.  Of course.  Aziraphale has come into the possession of his flaming sword again, through a series of events that Crowley really doesn’t want to think too hard about.  

They stare down the Morning Star across the open expanse of the soon to be battlefield, humanity behind them, as much of it sheltered beneath their wings as they can manage.  

And then the Heavenly forces begin to sing.  

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