twistedangelsays:
“ loquaciouswug:
“ solarbird:
“ safetytank:
“ steppsful:
“ songofsunset:
“ xdominoe:
“ purplebloodedmajesty:
“ walkinchicken:
“ kotaku:
“ The End, by Alister Lockhart.
”
Bruh, if you don’t think that having historically significant...

twistedangelsays:

loquaciouswug:

solarbird:

safetytank:

steppsful:

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

this yes jfc this. Mt. St. Helens this.

Fuck anyone with the “these kids and their smartphones” jfc 

a) googling kaiju weakpoints

b) livestreaming to news sites

c) SAYING GOODBYE TO GODDAMN FAMILY OR WHATEVER

d) science/posterity

e) attempting communication/translation? 

f) playing kickass kaiju music to lighten the mood.


What do you want from us. “The apocalypse happened and I didn’t have my phone out because, you know, it’s crass.”

I wrote a little fic inspired by this post, figured I’d link it here in case anyone was interested. Find it here.

(via lathori)

In the End

twistedangelsays:

Or, #Apocalypse

This is a short fiction piece inspired by this post.

#Apocalypse

It wasn’t funny.

But, then again, it kind of was.

Haley couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up in her chest even as she felt a few tears escape and streak down her dark features as she posted what would probably be her last few Instagram photos ever.

Haley wondered if things like Instagram survived the end of the world. She suspected she wouldn’t be around to find out.

She glanced around the half destroyed street. No one wanted to die alone. Yet, here she was, her ankle pinned by wreckage. Even if the creature didn’t make a second sweep, she doubted she would survive to see search and rescue teams (was that something they even did after an entire city got destroyed?)

Haley closed her eyes, pretty convinced this was it. Her friends and family weren’t responding to text message, so either they were dead already or somewhere without cell service. She was going die. She resisted the urge to look up how long it takes to die from dehydration.

That’s when her smartphone chirped.

Her eyes flew open, unlocking her screen and glancing down at the likes piling up on Instagram. Her post was getting attention, people asking if she could take any more photos. Apparently she was one of the closest people to the giant, tentacle creature rampaging through New York City.

She shook her head, scrolling through the comments. Haley almost scrolled past it, but one in all caps caught her attention.

“EYO GIRL!! WHERE YOU AT???? TOM SAYS BASED ON THE ANGLE OF YOUR PHOTOS WE ARE CLOSE BY!!!”

Keep reading

(Source: lathori)

lierdumoa:

I made these points in a reblog, but I want to re-state them in their own post, so that it shows up in the main tag.

Mad Max: Fury Road is a story about sexists, told by non-sexists.

I know it’s a bit confusing, because we’re so used to seeing stories about sexists told by sexists. We’re so used to sexism being portrayed by sexist male filmmakers for the sake of a sexist male audience, that we’ve been fooled into thinking this is the only way sexism even can be portrayed.

eabevella’s review of MMFR pointed out that the villains never call women “bitches,” nor are they shown overtly leering at the women in the film, and took this as evidence that the villains in the movie are not sexist. That they objectify women, but only in the way that they objectify everything, and their objectification is in fact quite egaitarian.

While the assessment that the villains are not shown leering or spitting gendered slurs is correct, I’m going to go ahead and say that the conclusion eabevella drew from this is wrong, wrong, so very wrong.

See, there’s a great lie we’ve been told – that in order for an audience to understand that a character is sexist, women must be humiliated on camera.

The truth is this:

When a male character calls a female character a bitch in a movie, that is not the filmmaker’s way of showing the audience the character is sexist; that is the filmmaker’s way of showing the audience that the character’s sexist point of view is worth hearing.

Read that paragraph over and over until it sinks in.

Mad Max: Fury Road makes it absolutely clear that the villains are sexist, and it does so without ever once implying that their sexist point of view is worth hearing. Instead, we learn that they are sexist second-hand, through context and world-building.

We see that the wives have been dressed in ridiculous, impractical gauze bikinis. We see that the wives are not only young and healthy, but also model-pretty. Through these subtle details, the narrative makes it clear that Immorten Joe, the villain, chose these women not just as useful stock, but as sexual objects in which he took sexual pleasure.

In contrast, when the movie introduces the audience to the wives, the movie makes sure to portray them in as humanized, and non-sexualized a manner as possible. Even when they are literally bathing together, we don’t see any water running down chests while the models arch their backs and run their fingers through their hair and sigh pleasurably. Instead we see a bunch of women perfunctorily rinsing off legs and feet, looking exhausted. When they see Max for the first time, they take on fearful, closed off expressions, and project fearful, closed off body language.

Compare this to, for example, Theon Greyjoy’s castration in HBO’s Game of Thrones. We know he was castrated, even though no one ever says the word “castration” and the camera never shows a penis being lopped off. The filmmakers manage to convey that the mutilation has taken place, but respect the character enough not to make a lurid scene out of it (and yet proceed to make lurid scenes out of every possible denigration and mutilation of every possible female character they can cram into their commercial free timeslot).

.

As for Imperator Furiosa, it is hard for us, the audience, to not see Charlize Theron as a beautiful woman. But when we compare her appearance in the movie to that of the wives, it’s clear to see that Imperator Furiosa is, in fact, the opposite of what Immorten Joe and his war mongering culture view as desirable, beautiful, or womanly. They do not sexually objectify her because to them she is sexless.

If we ignore our own biased understanding of Furiosa – as a character that a beautiful actress is portraying – and instead immerse ourselves in the culture of the Miller’s world, it becomes obvious that Furiosa has taken great pains to make herself genderless under the villains’ gaze, and that her efforts have succeeded.

From Entertainment Weekly:

It was Theron herself who unlocked the image of the androgynous warrior—a woman who has escaped the fate of other women by erasing her gender.

“I just said, ‘I have to shave my head,’” Theron recalls. Furiosa is a war-rig operator living in a place where all other females have been enslaved as breeding and milking chattel. But Furiosa is barren and therefore of no value to the despot Immortan Joe and his soldiers. She is considered worthless. ”They almost forget she’s a woman, so there is no threat,” she says. “I understood a woman that’s been hiding in a world where she’s been discarded.” [x]

.

The villains in the movie are absolutely misogynist. They are absolutely sexist. They do absolutely view beautiful women as sexual objects that exist purely for the male gaze.

But the movie is not about them.

The movie, instead, portrays sexist men as obstacles for the heroes of the movie to overcome.

(via yea-lets-do-this-shit)

cephalopodqueen:

earthschampion:

kryptons-last-son:

notadamsellane:

hatingongodot:

Before she learns about his secret identity, Lois Lane thinks Clark Kent is a goddamn mess

She goes to his place to work on a joint article and it takes her like half an hour to find out that Clark lives in an absolutely nonfunctional house

She has to change a lightbulb but there are no stools, no sufficiently high chairs, no way of reaching the ceiling unless you find a way to climb the walls. “How the hell do you change your bulbs?” she asks. Clark mutters something about misplacing the footstool and helps her drag the table from the kitchen to the living room.

Lois watches Clark make lasagna and has to physically restrain him from pulling the tray out of the oven with his bare hands. “Are you out of your goddamn MIND?” she yells, scrambling to pull him away on time. “What are you DOING? WHERE ARE THE OVEN MITTS?” and Clark is just like “Right…..oven mitts…….. I think I lost them with the uh. footstool” both he and Lois pause for a moment to engage in a riveting game of Mentally Punch Clark

Lois runs into the bathroom to put on a disguise and yells out, “Where do you keep your razor?” There’s a gust of wind and Clark comes back with slightly windswept hair. “I got it!” he says with unwarranted triumph. “It’s right here. The razor I use.” Lois looks at it and it is CLEARLY recently purchased and never used and she’s just like. I don’t even care anymore

For weeks she just assumes Clark is missing some crucial element in his home and starts stacking her own things all over the place. Lois thinking Clark has no clue how to take care of himself while Clark is Eternally Tormented and has to find ways to keep his identity a secret while living in close quarters, and the slow burn mutual pining roommates AU of my dreams begins

Oh my god this is amazingly awesome! Yes please lol

Lol! Omg, yes!!

I literally can’t stop laughing at the lasagna scene, oh my god! LOL

@kookygeekpalace this seems like something that’d be in your fic

(via wildehack)