captured for posterity


this was fun.

The twin Voyager spacecraft, which launched in 1977, are our ambassadors to the rest of the Milky Way, destined to continue orbiting the center of our galaxy for billions of years after they stop communicating with Earth. On Aug. 25, 2012, Voyager 1 became the first human-made object to enter interstellar space, and Voyager 2 is expected to cross over in the next few years. At age 40, the Voyagers are the farthest and longest-operating spacecraft and still have plenty more to discover. This poster captures the spirit of exploration, the vastness of space and the wonder that has fueled this ambitious journey to the outer planets and beyond.

Enjoy this and other Voyager anniversary posters. Download them for free here:

Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech

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Someday Your Child May Cry

Previously: Question | Preparations | Irrational | Confession | Collateral | Thoughtless | Interrupted | Recovering

9. Irresponsible

Maybe, she thinks to herself, as she leans her forehead against the airplane window, he and I are just too irresponsible for this to work out. 

She couldn’t manage to hold onto Gibson, even in the closed environment of the hospital, where she should have been perfectly able to keep him safe. And while involving themselves in the Crump incident had been Mulder’s idea, Scully hadn’t put up much more than a token resistance before she’d gone along with him on it.

And now here she is, on a last-second plane to Bermuda with Frohike, Langley, and Byers, after having more or less bullied classified information out of an Assistant Director of the FBI (not to mention laying one hell of a kiss on him in an elevator- a moment that was almost certainly captured for posterity on a security camera). Once again, she’s chasing down her partner, rushing off on an ill-advised rescue attempt, necessitated by an equally ill-advised impulse on Mulder’s part.

She has to admit that, were she to review their joint records over the past six years, the phrase “responsible prospective parents” is not the first one that would spring to mind.


His brain is hazy after his long, slow climb back to consciousness, foggy with pain medication and head trauma, and he’s just barely aware enough to recognize the look that Scully is giving him. It’s the same look she always wears on her face when he wakes up in a hospital bed after yet another bout of poor decision making, and by now, it’s as familiar to him as her smile. More familiar, probably: he doesn’t make her smile nearly as often as he makes her worry.

He wonders distractedly, as she tries to keep him calm, to convince him to lie back and rest, if she understands. If she knows. If she has any clue at all what she means to him, what she’s always meant to him. His thoughts are disjointed and mostly incoherent- there’s clearly one hell of a cocktail in that IV bag dangling above his bed- but he has a vague impression that there’s something, something unresolved, something important going on between them, some reason why it’s so important that she knows how he feels right now, even though he’s kept it secret for a long time.

It’s something time-sensitive. He knows that much. It can’t wait.

Scully starts to leave his bedside, but he calls her back, and of course, she comes. 

“I love you,” he tells her, his face as serious and as sober as he can manage, and the moment the words are out, he feels an enormous weight lifted off of his chest. There, he thinks to himself. Now she knows.

He waits for her to blush, to smile, to return the sentiment… but “Oh, brother,” is all she says.

And then she’s gone.


In the hallway outside of Mulder’s hospital room, Scully leans up against the wall, covering her eyes with a shaking hand. Skinner and the Gunmen have, thankfully, already gone down to the hospital lobby to wait for her, and are not here to witness her mini-breakdown following Mulder’s unexpected confession.

He’s drugged, she reminds herself firmly. He has no idea what he’s saying. The best thing you can do for both of you is to go downstairs, go back to the hotel, let him sleep and sober up, and not speak of this again unless he brings it up first.

And yet, her feet are carrying her back into his hotel room.

“What do you mean by that, Mulder?” she asks him, approaching his bedside. He looks up at her, his hand cradling the side of his face, where his cheek is bruised.

“What do I mean by what?” he replies, his voice slightly slurry. She ignores the voice in her head that tells her he’s in no fit state to discuss this now.

“What you just said, Mulder. What do you mean by telling me that you love me?”

“I just… I needed you to know,” he says, shrugging, a little sheepish. “I had to make sure you knew that, now, before… before we….” He trails off, frowning to himself.

“Before what?” she says. “Why is it so important for you to tell me this right now?”

“Just in case, Scully,” he says, sagging back against the pillows, blinking sleepily. The drugs are about to knock him out.

“In case what, Mulder? In case the next time you go running off alone like this, you don’t make it back?”

“No, no,” he says, waving a hand dismissively, as though the concept of his own mortality is barely worth mentioning. “In case it works next time, Scully.” Her breath catches in her throat. “Need you to know… so if it works….” His eyes drift closed. “So you’ll let me….” She waits, but his breathing has become slow and even. He’s passed out again.

“So I’ll let you what?” she tries, one last time, but he doesn’t stir. Scully stamps down the urge to shake him back awake, to demand that he complete his sentence. He needs to rest if he’s going to get well in time to fly home tomorrow, and repeatedly waking him up to re-engage him in a conversation that he’s much too stoned to be having is not going to help him or her.


When she asks him, over a shared lunch during an escape from the bullpen, if he remembers what they had discussed in the hospital, he looks at her blankly.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that, Scully,” he chuckles. “We’ve had a hell of a lot of conversations in hospitals over the past six years.” Scully sighs and returns her attention to her sandwich.

“Never mind,” she says. “It’s not important.”

I Could Get Used to This

Not sure where this idea came from, but I found myself writing it instead of The Fate of Black Cats. Not worry my friends, I am still working on it. In the mean time enjoy this piece of fluff.

Running late was no stranger to Marinette. She was often late to most everything. This was so common an occurrence, that on one of the few occasions that she was on time she assumed she was running late. It did not help matters that the night before she had fought a long and tiring battle with an akuma and did not get much sleep. With all these things working against her, she stood little chance of being truly awake and alert.

When she rushed into her classroom, she immediately dashed to where Alya usually sits and begged her assistance in not catching the teachers attention.

“Alya scoot over.” She whispered as she plopped down in Alya’s usual spot. Strangely, Alya already seemed to be sitting on the wrong side of the bench. With a shrug, Marinette plopped her head down on the desk and fell back asleep. She was awarded with pleasant dreams until she felt someone shaking her shoulder to wake her up. She cracked her eyes open, ready to scold Alya, only to find Adrien, not Alya, sitting beside her. She decided she must still be dreaming. Adrien doesn’t sit beside her, after all, and it was too much of a dream come true to be real. She picked her head up and looked at Adrien, a little dazed from sleep.

“Marinette, class is about to start.” She smiled at him and wondered at how real dream Adrien looked, even through her sleep-hazed eyes.

“Good morning hot-stuff,” She replied before leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. She missed the way his eyes widened and his cheeks grew hot. She did not hear the exciting muttering and laughing from her fellow classmates, or the click of Alya’s camera. She only barely noticed Adrien’s sputtering as she lay her head back on the desk.


“Yes, Adrien, I love you too. It’s not time to wake up yet, still sleeping.” She responded before promptly falling back asleep.

The victory yells from Alya and Nino did not wake her. Nor did the cheering from her other class mates. She did not wake up when Chloe entered and asked what all the ruckus was about. So she did not see Adrien place one hand on his cheek where she kissed him and the other over his heart as if she had shot him. She did not see his face turn bright red as he stared at her, but Alya did. Alya captured everything, for posterity, she told Nino, and to show Marinette when she became lucid again.

Everyone noticed that Adrien had a hard time paying attention to the lesson after that. When the teacher came in and noticed Marinette asleep in Nino’s usual seat, she sighed and started with the lesson.

Adrien did not attempt to wake the sleeping girl again until it was lunch time. He shook her shoulder again wearing a soft smile. He did not see Alya silently recording again behind him.

“Marinette, it’s lunch time, you really do have to get up this time.” She roused slowly and gradually. When she finally lifted her head and saw that it was Adrien waking her, she froze. He grinned at her before leaning in as she had earlier and kissing her cheek.
“Good morning, beautiful.” He said quietly before getting up and walking calmly out of the classroom. His smile grew when he heard hysterical squeaks and screeches coming from the almost empty classroom accompanied by joyful laughing and cheering.

He could get used to greeting Marinette that way.


Artist George Caltsoudas is celebrating “Batman: The Animated Series” with a series of posters, each one dedicated to an episode of the show. Caltsoudas’ plan is to draw one poster a day, five days a week, of all 65 episodes from “Batman’s” first season. The posters capture the show’s “Dark Deco” style, a term coined by the original series’ creators to describe the show’s look. For your daily dose of “Dark Deco” “Batman” posters, you can follow Caltsoudas:

anonymous asked:

I would love to read tiny!logicality I bet it would be the most adorable thing ever! idrc about prinxiety since there's so much of it but I would love some tiny!logicality!

You and like 6 other anons have requested, so I am here to deliver!!!! Tiny Platonic Logicality is a go.

- On the one hand, having two sides go Tiny at the same time, especially these two, was a huge problem.

- On the other hand, this was the most adorable thing Roman had ever seen in his life. Virgil had his phone out, so he knew it was being captured for posterity (blackmail).

- Tiny Patton had been sadly playing with his puppy plushie, looking forlorn. Tiny Logan frowned and toddled over, flopping down next to him.

- “Wass wrong, Pat pat?”

- “I’m sad. I want cuddles. ‘Irge an’ Ro too busy. Nobody wants to hug me.” Patton’s eyes welled up, and the logical side shifted, clearly unsure how to handle the brewing emotional storm.

- “I could…cuddle…if you want…” Logan hesitantly offered, shyly looking away and adjusting his glasses.

- “Really? You won’t get mad?” Patton seemed torn between finally getting the snuggles he wanted and assuring his friend’s comfort.

- Logan flushed slightly, but looked back with his familiar haughty expression. “I admit I am not fond of you randomly throwing yourself at me, but this time is okay. I…. would like a hug.”

- Patton squealed with glee and threw his arms around a startled Logan. He was stiff at first, but slowly relaxed, his own arms coming around his friend’s waist. Patton burrowed his face into Logan’s shoulder, beaming from ear to ear.

- “Love you, Lo Lo!” There was a long pause, then a quiet “Love you back, Pat Pat.”

- Roman ducked back into the kitchen with Virgil right behind him. “Tell me you got all of that!!!”

- Virgil smirked. “Yup. Wanna watch it back?”

- They definitely watched it four times in a row. Maybe five.

A Chance in Hell (Biadore) - Chapter 3 - Heather

Adore’s birthday bash paves the way for an interesting and sexy after party.

content advice: drugs/alcohol use.

A/N:  I wanna give a big shoutout to all the readers out there who inspire me to continue this fic!  The next chapter will be a lot more smutty, trust and believe.

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Portugal Ficlet: No Video Cameras

Another glimpse of Dan and Phil in Portugal in 2010. This is my imagined explanation for why there is apparently no video from the entire trip.

[Masterlist of all pieces of the Portugal fic project]

“No video cameras.” It was Dan’s one unequivocal requirement about the Portugal trip. “We spend most of our time looking at each other through camera lenses and on computer screens. I want this trip to just be us, like, looking at each other. Directly! Nothing between us. Just … us. For real.”

So neither of them had packed a video camera. It felt odd to Phil, who had been filming so much of his life for what seemed like forever, but he couldn’t deny that it was kind of nice to just sit beside Dan on the plane and not have to fight the temptation to film him, to instead just look at his profile and enjoy its delicacy in the moment without trying to capture it for posterity.

“Phones are okay, right?” he’d asked anxiously. He really didn’t want to have to go the whole trip without his phone. But luckily Dan had agreed, though he had requested minimal photos and minimal tweeting.

“Just … keep your eyes on me, okay? Let’s try and forget about the fucking internet and fucking YouTube and fucking subscriber numbers and all that stupid crap. I mean, yes, I usually love all that stupid crap, but just for this one week, let’s try to forget it. Okay? Let’s just be you, and me, and us. Just … Dan and Phil. Just for a few days. Can we do that?” And Phil had hugged him tight, nodding yes, murmuring assurances in his ear, because Dan had sounded almost on the verge of tears, as if he really needed this vacation, needed a vacation from being “danisnotonfire,” a vacation where he got to be just Dan for the first time since his channel had hit it big and mobs of fangirls had started recognizing him in train stations and coffee shops.

So they spent every hour of every day together in Portugal, and every night too. They went to the beach, and they walked the cliffs around their hotel, and they lazed around in bed for hours when they felt like it, and they ate strange food in tiny local restaurants, and they visited a marine park … and they didn’t film any of it. Not a single moment. They did take a few photos, though not many. Most of the photos Phil took were of Dan. Most of the photos Dan took were of dolphins and sea lions at the marine park.

“What if we want to make a sex tape?” Phil had teased, but Dan had looked serious.

“We’ll just have to store every moment in our own memories,” he’d replied, face young and earnest and strangely wise. “Just pay such close attention to every single detail that we’ll never forget any of it and a video recording would be entirely redundant.”

Phil had nodded, a little dazed at the intensity of Dan’s answer.

But Dan’s words had stuck in his mind throughout the trip, inspiring him to intently watch Dan’s ever-changing facial expressions, and listen to the sound of his voice, and feel the warm smoothness of his skin, and smell the combination of professional product and ocean salt in his hair. Phil stored it all away in a special place in his memory, someplace safe where he knew he wouldn’t ever lose it, because it was too precious to risk.

“I’m going to remember this forever,” he whispered into Dan’s hair one night as they lay in bed, both teetering on the sweet edge of sleep.

“That’s the idea,” Dan whispered back, and then sleep took them.

anonymous asked:


OKAY SO it was during The World Will Know right after the “what if the delanceys come out swingin” part, jack kind of falls to his knees and slides across the stage towards the group and crutchie is at the head of the group and I guess jack just HAPPENED to slide A LITTLE TOO FAR and ended up with his face right at crotch level and like waaaaaay too close. And both of them had a moment of looking at each other like WELL, THIS IS NEW. and then the song continues and jack got up but oh my god I wish someone had captured this moment for posterity it was beautiful.

I like to watch you while you sleep and behold the sweet serenity on your face.
Watch your curling lashes fan your cheeks and the locks of your hair falling on your forehead in disarray
All of your straight lines and your curves are wonderous to behold
All the light and the shadows and all of your forms
I wish I was an artist to capture them for all posterity but I, a simple mortal, can do nothing more but stare at the incredible beauty that is mine to cherish, love, and take care.
—  e.v.e.
Ok so

Dead by daylight is a very nice game which changed my life SO MUCH!

I not only got to enjoy a new game and explore and enjoy its lore and characters, I also found SO many friends, best friends and EVEN a boyfriend through this game! I got SO far in art, improved a lot and i even got inspired by it for many schoolprojects ive done. (yes, i made dbd themed projects, those were a flash animation, motion capture animation and a poster series.)

And now, this weekend its the bloodfeast, where one can get 3x more bloodpoints. You know whats even, well, better than that? It goes through my birthday- Even though this game and its developers tend to be a tad too “mean“ to me, its a great present for my birthday. Im glad this game unintentionally made me this present- and i also got to enjoy it with my friends.

So, Thank you. for an amazing time.
Sistine Chapel like you've never seen it before - BBC News
Experts spent five years photographing the entire Sistine Chapel using the latest technology.

For the first time since 1994, the Sistine Chapel has been photographed. Considering the advances in technology since then, it’s no surprise that the photographs have captured unprecedented details for posterity. They are published in a limited number of 3-volume sets that cost around €12,000.

anonymous asked:

can we get a christmas blurb for harry please?!?!?!? he gets a charm for your bracelet every year? it can be cute/smutty ;)

*I thought the request was cute, and it was only after I wrote this that my writing partner (@little-black-dress-24) told me that the request may have been based on something that happened in a particular book that I have not read.  So I’m hoping this little blurb doesn’t disappoint.  If you were looking for something similar to the book, then this level of fluff may be too much for you.  

Charming Christmas

“Your bracelet is making too much noise, love,” Harry whispers, as the two of you watch over your second little one, sleeping away like most eight-month-old babies.  Harry stands over the crib, his arm draped over your shoulder while you are pulling the blanket up to cover his daughter.

He’s right, of course.  Your bracelet is loud with all of the charms clanging softly against each other, but it wasn’t loud enough to awaken your three-year-old, and he is the lightest sleeper of all of you. Your daughter is more like Harry.  She could sleep anywhere through anything.  In fact, just two days ago, she had fallen asleep on the floor of the studio while Harry was rehearsing for his next solo tour.  Her little bottom had been sticking up in the air and her face was planted on the floor.  You had captured the moment for all posterity, snapping a picture of her sleeping on the floor with Harry singing in the background.

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Simone the Fighter: Simone lived in a good land, but under every good land are the roots of oppression. And in this land those roots took hold and choked out all else. When the borders closed and the curfew began, Simone and her comrades began to plot. They infiltrated, they sabotaged, they freed prisoners. Simone was one of the first to be identified, but she evaded capture, even as the wanted posters went up and whispers of her grew throughout the land. More and more of her neighbors prayed in the night that Simone would be their salvation. She lead a charge against the palace gates. And behind those gates were cannons. We do not know where Simone is buried. Many years later when the mass graves were exhumed, her bones were mixed with so many others.