The Mad King was obsessed with [wildfire]. He loved to watch people burn, the way their skin blackened and blistered and melted off their bones. He burned lords he didn’t like. He burned Hands who disobeyed him. He burned anyone who was against him. Before long, half the country was against him. Aerys saw traitors everywhere. So he had his pyromancer place caches of wildfire all over the city… beneath the Sept of Baelor and the slums of Flea Bottom. Under houses, stables, taverns. Even beneath the Red Keep itself. Finally, the day of reckoning came. Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory at the Trident. But my father arrived first with the whole Lannister army at his back, promising to defend the city against the rebels. I knew my father better than that. He’s never been one to pick the losing side. I told the Mad King as much. I urged him to surrender peacefully. But the king didn’t listen to me. He didn’t listen to Varys who tried to warn him. But he did listen to Grand Maester Pycelle, that grey, sunken cunt. “You can trust the Lannisters,” he said. “The Lannisters have always been true friends of the crown.” So we opened the gates and my father sacked the city. Once again, I came to the king, begging him to surrender. He told me to bring him my father’s head. Then he turned to his pyromancer. “Burn them all,” he said. “Burn them in their homes. Burn them in their beds.” Tell me, if your precious Renly commanded you to kill your own father and stand by while thousands of men, women, and children burned alive, would you have done it? Would you have kept your oath then? First, I killed the pyromancer. And then when the king turned to flee, I drove my sword into his back. “Burn them all,” he kept saying. “Burn them all.” I don’t think he expected to die. He… he meant to… burn with the rest of us and rise again, reborn as a dragon to turn his enemies to ash. I slit his throat to make sure that didn’t happen.
Frida Gustavsson photographed by Boo George for Vogue Nippon, June 2013
cat doesn’t want to get out of nice warm bath [x]
the pad on his head ^_^
Oh dear lord, this made me feel so unbelievably warm and fuzzy inside!
Needle playing a record | Victrola Coffee Roasters
Coloured scanning electron micrograph (SEM) of the needle (stylus) of a record player in a groove on a record. A record is used to store sound. It is produced by a machine with a head which vibrates in time to the sound being recorded. This cuts a groove in the record which varies according to the vibrations. A needle can then reproduce these vibrations as it runs along the groove and these, when amplified, produce the original sound.
So here are the source links.
FIRSTLY here is where I got Tony Abbott’s (LIBERAL/NATIONAL) list of policies
HERE is section 18C of the racial discrimination act
Basically, we’re fucked. Welcome to Australian Politics.
yo real talk how fucked is this
get dead, abbott
Ugh yes. If you’re actually reading this you are probably already pro-having-a-fucking-brain, but in the tiny off chance one of you is still unsure… for the love of god don’t vote this money-hungry, discriminatory imbecile in.
Do me a favour. If you’re Australian, Hit reblog NOW. Everyone needs to read this.
If you identify as female or have a vagina in this country, don’t vote for him. If you have a brain, don’t vote for him. If you have any self respect at all, don’t vote for him.He gets in, I get the fuck out.
