impossible places

Here are the biggest lies, mistruths and “alternative facts” from Trump’s joint address

9:11 p.m.: “A new surge of optimism is placing impossible dreams firmly in our grasp.”

Polls show Americans are broadly anxious about the future of the U.S. under Trump.

9:16 p.m.: Trump name-checks companies he says have kept jobs in the U.S. under his presidency

According to the New York Times, several companies which the president is taking credit for personally convincing to keep or create jobs in the U.S. were actually just following through on previously announced plans, including Sprint (owned by Softbank) and Chrysler.

Trump has cited misleading numbers of jobs he supposedly saved at Carrier, an air conditioning manufacturer.

9:22 p.m.: Trump claims enforcing immigration laws will make Americans safer

“By finally enforcing our immigration laws, we will raise wages, help the unemployed, save billions of dollars, and make our communities safer for everyone,” Trump said.

On the last point, multiple studies have concluded immigrants commit less crime than U.S. citizens, according to the New York Times. According to the Times, census data shows immigrant men aged 18-49 are one-fifth to one-half as likely to face incarceration as natural-born citizens, while non-citizens (comprising 7% of the population) are only 5% of the state and federal prison population.

9:25 p.m.: Trump misleads on his role in saving money on the F-35 program

While Trump has touted his supposed role in saving $700 million on the much-criticized, $1 trillion-plus F-35 Joint Strike Fighter program, according to Politifact, program costs have been coming down for years.

9:27 p.m.: Trump defends his de facto Muslim ban, saying U.S. cannot afford a “beachhead of terrorists” or “sanctuary for extremists”

No nationals from the seven countries specifically named in Trump’s executive order have committed terror attacks resulting in U.S. fatalities since 1975 and his plan would do little to prevent terrorism, which is mostly homegrown.

9:29 p.m.: Trump cites highly misleading figures on the labor force

As Politico’s Michael Grunwald noted, the vast majority of those in the 94 million figure are not typically considered working constituencies.

9:55 p.m.: “According to the National Academy of Sciences, our current immigration system costs America’s taxpayers many billions of dollars a year.”

According to the New York Times, the study in question actually concluded immigration results in “positive net benefits to the U.S. economy during the last two decades of the 20th century,” and “the infusion of human capital by high-skilled immigrants has boosted the nation’s capacity for innovation, entrepreneurship and technological change.”

It also concluded that while first-generation immigrants create a net government cost of $57.4 billion, second and third-generation adults “create a benefit of $30.5 billion and $223.8 billion, respectively.”

10:00 p.m.: Trump says Keystone XL and Dakota Access pipelines will create tens of thousands of jobs

As the Washington Post noted, while Montana, South Dakota and Nebraska would each hire between 2,700 and 4,000 construction workers to complete the pipelines, and Kansas would hire 200, the average length of those jobs would be just 19.5 weeks. According to Politifact, the Keystone XL pipeline would only create 35 permanent jobs.

10:04 p.m.: Trump says the Yemen raid produced actionable intelligence

Trump claimed a recent Yemen raid which resulted in the death of a U.S. Navy SEAL and 30 civilians, including children, claimed “large amounts of vital intelligence.” One report citing senior officials, however, contested that account and said no significant information was recovered. The target of the raid, Qassim al-Rimi, escaped the assassination attempt and reportedly recorded an audio message mocking Trump as the “fool of the White House.”

Read more (2/28/17 10:20 PM)

“When I was seventeen I had my first kid. The mother was addicted to drugs. I was in a tough situation. I was raising the child on my own. And I received an invitation to help rob a truck. I thought: ‘I’ll just do this today, and then it will be over.’ I was the lookout. The police caught us while we were running away. Prison is a place that’s impossible to explain. I was there for 2.5 years before I even had a trial. I saw a guy being stabbed. I saw a guy slit his own throat with a razor. During the night I used to sit by the window, and look at the stars, and think: ‘Not even an animal likes to stay in a cage.’ All my friends forgot about me. Only my mother visited. I’ll never go back there. Right now I’m in a tough situation again. I have no job. But people at the church help me with food. And I sit here and help people park their cars. It’s only a few pennies, but I’d rather do this than steal from someone else who needs the money.”

(São Paulo, Brazil)

In a dystopian future, theatres, like airport security, check you for smuggled in goodies. You, after being pulled to the side, start pulling out goodies from seemingly impossible places…

This just in, local teenage boys on a date after successfully defeating a coven of vampires

What makes octopuses so awesome?

Well, here are just a few things:

Okay, so that’s a lot of awesome right there. But what about this:

Plus, they have some pretty amazing defense mechanisms, from changing color to blend in with their surroundings (or let you know they are angry):

To squeezing themselves into impossibly tiny places. (Did we mention they have no skeleton?)

And a bonus fact: octopuses live in almost all of our national marine sanctuaries!

littlelostgreenwitch  asked:

your gods & monsters fics are so beautiful!! I know you had Prometheus in the one with Pandora, but do you think you could do one with him when he was stealing the fire?

By her very nature Hestia is not supposed to have favorites, but Hades has always been hers.

She is the eldest sister, and he the eldest brother. She wonders if that is perhaps why they somehow end up being the responsible ones.

“I like it down here,” she says, curled up in his throne. “It’s quiet.”

He snorts, head bent over the reams of paper, endless lists of the dead. Somehow, she never sees Zeus with paperwork. “It’s dark, and cold.” She glances around. The only light comes from the softly glowing moonstones, from the bioluminescent designs etched into the walls.

She extends a hand, “I can–”

A cheerful fire crackles to life in the center of the room, warm and sweet and smelling of cedar even though there’s no smoke. “Sister!” he snaps, “Return that to Olympus immediately!”

She pouts, holding the fire steady, “Why? It’s my fire, I am its keeper, am I not? I can give it to whoever I choose.”

“Zeus has decreed it is a privilege of those that reside in the heavens,” he glares, “I will not see his wrath turn upon you. Put it back.”

Hestia closes her palm, and the fire snuffs out, returning to its home on Mount Olympus. “Little brother Zeus would do well to remember his place.”

“I’m sure he would say the same of us,” Hades says wryly, eyes dropping back down to his desk.

She is the keeper of the hearth, the bringer of fire, the guardian of the home. The spirit of Mother Gaia pulses in her more clearly than the others, no matter the claims Hera likes to make

Zeus is a little boy. A powerful little boy for sure, but a child none the less. She and Hades grew in their father’s stomach together, his was the hand she grasped through the years in their horrid prison.

She dislikes little boys telling her how to govern her realm of hearth and home.

~

Prometheus was not a smart man, but he was a brave man, an ambitious man.

So when a goddess appears in front of him, offering him an opportunity for glory, he does not refuse. He grins with eyes too bright and says, “Fire? The tool of gods back in mortal hands? We could do much with that.”

“Yes,” the goddess agrees, “but it will not come free. If you succeed you will be sent to Hades’s realm, of this I am certain, and when you are – you must bring fire to him as well. That is the price of our bargain.”

“Agreed,” he says instantly, and does not question why a god needs a human to get him fire. His is not the place to question gods.

Myths will say that he was a Titan, a god among gods, but that is not true.

He was a lone, ambitious man. The act of a single person can often be mistaken for the work of a god.

~

Hestia’s throne sits unused on Olympus, more concerned with tending her hearth fire than sitting high above mortals.

Any being which must assert their authority through status symbols likely has very little authority to begin with. “You’re planning trouble,” Hera accuses one day, her clothing purposefully plain next to her husband’s and her hair piled atop her head in an exhaustingly elaborate fashion.

Hera did not become wife of Zeus, Queen of the Gods, by being stupid. She can be accused of many things, but stupidity is not among them.

“Whatever do you mean, little sister?” Hestia asks, reaching a hand into the fire and watching the flames dance harmlessly over her skin. None of her other siblings would be so fortunate, should they try to touch her fire.

Hera cross her arms, lower lip jutting out, and Hestia’s mouth twitches. They are all so painfully young still, now. Hera is little more than a girl, and Hestia thinks she would be fond of her if she were not so clearly hiding fangs behind her pretty lips.

Loving your family never meant having to like them.

“You won’t get away with it, whatever it is,” Hera declares before turning on her heel and striding off.

Hestia cups a ball of flame in her hand, the warmth of it seeping down to her bones. “Whatever you say, little sister.”

~

The climb up Mount Olympus takes him weeks. He’s exhausted and hungry by the time he reaches the top, having run out of food some days ago. But he makes it – something that no other human can claim.

He follows the goddess’s instructions to the letter, waits until the moon is high in the sky before creeping into the palace. He doesn’t touch any of the statues, the tapestries, the golden goblets or silver plates. He doesn’t even let his gaze linger on them, for he is after a prize far more valuable than wealth.

Fame. Notoriety. His name written in the heavens, never to be forgotten.

The hearth is in the center of the throne room, larger than twice his size and more golden than red. He takes a trembling step forward, eager and terrified all in one.

The goddess appears in front of him, more silhouette than anything else. “This fire will burn you,” she warns, eyes fever bright and sparking just like the inferno behind her, “It will kill you. It is only a matter of when – not if.”

“I understand,” he says, because it doesn’t matter, death does not matter. Death comes for all men. If he succeeds in returning fire to humankind, he will be more than a man – he will be a legend.

“Very well.” She spicks up a globe of fire in her hand. Prometheus reaches for it, but she does not hand it to him. Instead she opens her mouth impossibly wide and places it on her tongue, lips closing around it and her whole face turning red from the heat.

She grabs him by the front of his shirt and jerks him forward, placing her mouth to his mouth and pushing the ball of celestial fire onto his tongue.

“There,” she says, leaning back. “That will dampen it enough for you to make it back to the land of mortal men, but you must not open your mouth until you are ready – as soon as it’s exposed to the air it will consume you. If you are not back in the mortal realm at that point, your death will be for nothing.”

It burns, it’s complete agony. He can already feel the fire eating its way through the soft, wet muscles of his cheeks. But he gives the goddess one sharp nod and then he’s sprinting his way out of Olympus.

He doesn’t have much time.

~

Prometheus is long gone by the time Hera drags herself to the throne room, sleeping robe askew and Zeus’s teeth marks on her collarbone. She’s older than her husband but still so terribly young, and for a moment Hestia pities her.

“What did you do?” Hera demands, voice coming out rough. Hestia can’t see any bruising on her throat but that doesn’t mean there isn’t any. “I know you did something!”

She knows the woman Hera will grow into, has seen many girls become that same woman, and as the wife of Zeus it’s nearly inevitable. But she’s not a woman yet, just a girl who’s gambled everything for a play at power and hasn’t yet figured out if she’s won or lost.

“It’s cold in Zeus’s chambers,” Hestia pats the empty space beside her, “Won’t you sit with me, little sister?”

Hera stares at her, mistrust heavy in the air and plain on her face. She will learn to hide her thoughts better one day. “It’s not cold in there.”

“Isn’t it?” she asks simply, and for a split second Hera’s face crumples. “Come, little sister.”

Hera takes one hesitant step closer, then another, eventually stumbling to her knees beside her and staring into the fire, Hestia is sure, so she has an excuse for her eyes to water.

“None of that now,” she adjusts Hera’s robe and pulls her hair from her face, the normally immaculate locks frizzy and tangled. She summons a brush and runs it through her sister’s hair, careful and steady.

The tension leaves Hera’s body by degrees until she chokes out, “It’s warm here.”

“As it always will be, when you are beside me,” she says, because she can promise that at least. Whether Hera will choose to sit at her side in the future is another matter entirely.

~

Burns have surfaced all across his body, blistering legions turning into bloody caverns of ash where he once had flesh.

Most of his lower face is gone, his jaw open and gaping and only bone. The ball of celestial fire is nestled at the bottom of his throat; it’s burned through until only a thin layer of skin separating it from the open air. He has to hurry. Every step is agony, he hasn’t been able to take a breath for several minutes, and at this point death can only be a relief.

He will not die in vain.

Prometheus finally, finally steps upon mortal soil, but he does not stop there. He runs home, to his city, to the center of the square. People recognize him, even with half his face burned away, and there are screams.

He collapses in the city square and reaches what’s left of his hand into his throat. He pulls all but a spark of the celestial fire free, and opens his hand.

He’s consumed in an instant, and his last sight is of fire flying – into stoves, lighting hearths, candles twinkling to life.

They will carve his name into the skies for this. He dies satisfied.

~

“How could this have happened?” Zeus rages, “How dare he steal from the gods! I will have Hades destroy him in every possible manner!”

“Yes, my king,” Hestia murmurs. She doubts he’ll ever make note of the contempt in her voice at his title.

King of the Gods. As if gods have ever cared for kings.

Hera remains remarkably, carefully silent at her husband’s side, hair neatly coiled the exact circumference of Hestia’s fingers.

It wasn’t something Hestia asked of her, nor what she was expecting. It is, however, a very pleasant surprise.

Maybe there’s hope for her yet.

~

Prometheus opens his eyes, which he wasn’t expecting. Everything still feels like it’s burning, but his body is back in more or less one piece.

He’s in a place both dark and cold, and when his sight adjusts he realizes Hades, god of the dead, is standing before him.

“You’ve angered my brother greatly,” the god says, but he doesn’t sound all that upset. “I’m to give you the worst punishment imaginable for your transgressions.”

Prometheus opens his mouth, and out drops the smallest flicker of a flame. “From the goddess,” he says, and the spark goes twirling, dancing across torches and leaving them lit, passing by a hearth so it roars to life.

Hades eyes widen as he watches the sparks progress, until it disappears down the hallway to light the rest of his realm. “Foolish older sister,” he says, softer and kinder than Prometheus thinks the god of the underworld is supposed to look.

The whole place looks brighter with the fire, it goes from ominous to nearly – homey, a place not only to arrive at but one to return to.

Hades slides his gaze back to him, “Those burns are from celestial fire. I cannot heal them – you must live with them.”

“I understand,” Prometheus says, even though he doesn’t. If he’s to be subjected to the worst punishment imaginable, what does it matter if he’s burned or not?

The god smiles, as if he’s reading his thoughts, and says “Very good.”

The next thing Prometheus knows, he’s back in the lands of mortal men. Different, perhaps – but alive.

~

Fires are lit in her name, each home’s hearth dedicated to her, and Hestia smiles.

Hers is not a domain so easily extinguished.



gods and monsters series, part vi

6

HAPPY BELATED (by a week) BIRTHDAY, MY SHITPOSTING PARTNER!!! :D

@junkpilestuff requested for Gaster!Sans and Sans battling over their kid being the cutest. But does it matter? G!Sans has a problem, yo.

Yuzuru’s fashion

Now I know whatever Yuzuru does, sports, clothing, it always go extreme. When he wears something, it can only 

either perfectly fits

or ridiculously doesn’t:

like seriously doesn’t (T.T). Or maybe he’s just trying to be flirty sometimes (?)

The Signs Inbetween:

Aries: The bathroom at a public pool. The concrete floor is painful to walk on. The smell isn’t bad, just impossible to place. Everything echoes.

Taurus: The streets outside your house at middling night. The foliage seems denser than you remember it, except around the streetlights.

Gemini: The local park in the very very early morning. You lay with one elbow propped up on a bench as you watch the sprinklers slowly douse the grass. You almost didn’t notice you were about to get sprayed.

Cancer: The nice part of town. There are a lot of churches here. Its really just churches with breaks between them.

Leo: Near midnight, after a concert. You drip with sweat and smoke and booze. The cold wind is refreshing, as is the sudden aroma from the taco truck pulled up at the curb. For some reason you don’t trust it.

Virgo: The huge mall built during the height of the bubble. Nobody goes to the mall anymore. Nobody.

Libra: The lot down the street where maybe six or seven different restaurants have been. They just cant seem to stay open at that address. You didn’t eat at any of them.

Scorpio: A trolley stop. Your city doesn’t have trolleys. There was a whole plan to install them that never went through. 

Ophiuchus: The local grocery store, specifically the little covered entryway. You see a little half-burned wax candle sitting in the direct center. 

Sagittarius: A building that says it’s some sort of museum but is far far too small to be a museum.

Capricorn: The little neighborhood where all the old people live. It feels weirdly separate from the rest of the community. Sometimes its noticeably muggier.

Aquarius: A tiny mom-and-pop burger parlor that despite all laws of taste, decency, and man, will not die.

Pisces: The liquor store by the middle school.

A Thing abt that pic

Heyo Voltron fandom. So a while back that pic got leaked from Kimiko Glenn’s insta story and everyone went crazy (as did I). That pic of rebel!Matt and Shiro getting ready to fight.

Well I noticed something about this darned image a few weeks ago.

Ya see, when this pic first came out, I showed it to my sis and she wondered why the VA posted this pic if she doesn’t voice Matt. The probable choice is that she was in the booth and she wasn’t reading any lines so she posted this shot without her character.

But upon further inspection I saw something that many overlooked and changes pretty much the entire context of the image and what exactly this spells out for Season Two and Shiro.

Shiro’s visor is all the way down.

Why is that so crazy? Shiro wouldn’t have his visor all the way down unless he was able to breath in which it would just be half down. But it isn’t. And Matt isn’t wearing a helmet.

Meaning that somehow Matt is able to breath and Shiro isn’t. Which probably isn’t what’s going on.

So this means that this isn’t really Matt Holt.

This could just be a figment of Shiro’s imagination or a shapeshifter taking the form of Matt to either dupe Shiro or get him to trust them.

Or maybe I’m just looking too much into things and this is really Matt and everything is fine and my boys are okay and ready to kick some ass ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (please let that be the case oh god)

Coran doesn’t talk much about family, but he does mention his grandfather. Makes me wonder if his grandfather is who raised him. Do you think… they ever got to say goodbye?

stephanniesissues  asked:

Heeey, just thought of something for your Friends!lolly, remember that scene where Ross tells Rachel that he keeps count? Of how many times they did it? Well it doesn't need to be exactly like that, but Sherlock would totally know with his super brain and all! Thanks 🤗

good idea (I tend to avoid converting the ross/rachel break-up episodes and focus on chandler/monica). I’ll try and make it work…


*a hotel*

Receptionist: *hands over the key; smiles* You two are going to love the room.
Sherlock: *snatches key* Thank you.
Molly: *frowns; takes key* No, we’ll, um, be needing two rooms. We’re not together.
Receptionist: Oh, okay *retrieves another key; chuckles* something didn’t quite add up there.
Sherlock: *stops at the lift; walks back to the desk* What is that supposed to mean?
Molly: *awkward* Sherlock-
Receptionist: *shrugs* Well, you…*nods at Molly* her. I mean, she’s very… *smirks* you know. And you’re like…you know.
Sherlock: *scowls* Not that it’s any of your business but we did go out.
Receptionist: *skeptical* Really? You two?
Sherlock: *adamant* Yes! *elbows Molly* tell him.
Molly: *bored* I’d really like to have a shower and get something to eat before the case.
Sherlock: Tell him quickly.
Molly: *snaps* Fine *to the Receptionist* we went out. Let’s go *tugs Sherlock’s arm*
Sherlock: *shouts as he’s being pulled away* Not only did we go out, we did it two hundred and ninety eight times!
Molly: *frantically pressing the lift button; embarrassed* Oh, my God, Sherlock. You kept count? *whispers* You are such a loser! *pulls him inside the lift*
Sherlock: *smug* A lost you did it with *calls through the closing doors* TWO HUNDRED AND NINETY EIGHT TIMES!
Receptionist: *shakes his head; notices the second key still on the desk, sighs* Two hundred and ninety nine…

Ao3 Pro-tip

If a ship doesn’t warrant a mention in the summary for your story, you should not use the ship tag.

If the ship merely exists in the background, like because of canon compliance, you should not use the ship tag.

Tag the ship only if it is actively going to be explored or developed in the story.

8

The Vanishing Of Ethan Carter is a first person mystery adventure that puts you in the shoes of supernatural Detective Paul Prospero. So as I wandered around them beautiful woods, wondering what the hell was going on, suddenly this happened: It took me to space!! And it was awesome! I loved the game as a whole, but special kudos for the dev team to actually manage to put an astronaut in there.

concept

jake waking up to the sweet snuffling sounds of amy nursing their baby as she sits upright in bed next to him…she runs her free hand through his floofy bed hair as he stirs and he sleepily grins up at her and thinks to himself how did he ever get so lucky…his half alseep brain handily provides flashbacks of all the times he thought he’d die alone, all the times he thought he’d never be a father,, but then he remembers to just be grateful for this love and this life so he strokes his baby’s cheek (how are babies’ cheeks so impossibly soft) before placing an arm round amy’s torso (he would argue amy’s skin is just as soft) (genes, he thinks)