#M-1959

[guitarbomb]

Foxgear 100W Series - 100W MiniAmps in pedal format

Foxgear 100W Series is a line of pedal-sized guitar amplifiers. These compact powerhouses, retailing at $249 each, pack a punch with 100 watts of output power, making them a game-changer in the realm of musical equipment. Foxgear 100W Series The Foxgear 100W Series introduces four distinct models, each meticulously designed to replicate the iconic sounds of legendary rock amplifiers. Allowing…

[sesiondemadrugada]

Sleeping Beauty (Clyde Geronimi, 1959).

[lonestarflight]

The boilerplate capsule from the Big Joe mission on the deck of the USS STRONG (DD-758) following its recovery in the Atlantic Ocean.

"At local sunrise, the Big Joe capsule was spotted by a Navy P2V Neptune patrol plane allowing it to vector the nearest destroyer, the USS STRONG over 160 kilometers away, towards the wayward capsule for recovery. By about 10:00 AM EST, the Big Joe capsule was recovered and brought aboard STRONG. It was subsequently transferred to a cargo plane and flown to Cape Canaveral. The capsule arrived by 10 PM on launch day and was moved to Hangar S by midnight. Close inspection of the capsule showed that only 30% of the heat shield had ablated away and that the capsule was perfectly protected despite the punishing flight. While there was some buckling of the outer skin of the capsule where heating was especially intense and a couple of recovery hooks on Mercury’s cylindrical forward section were heavily eroded, there were few signs of thermal damage to the capsule."

Date: September 9, 1959

NASA ID: link

[weirdlookindog]

The Black Pit of Dr. M (Misterios de ultratumba, 1959)

[emmieexplores2]

1959

[womansfilm]

Middle of the Night (1959)

[mariocki]

Misterios de ultratumba (The Black Pit of Dr. M, 1959)

"What happened during my trance?"

"Nothing. Something as ancient as mankind itself. Science's senseless struggle to break the barriers that separate us from God."

[unravellingsilencehq]

“Oh, Merlin, tell me, does THE PRINCESS get what she deserves?” She is in THE DEATH EATERS & CLOSED to finding out.“

— she walks through the world as ;

name → narcissa black pronouns → she/her identification → cis female year of birth → september 1958 - september 1959 face claim → sydney sweeny blood status → pure-blood  sexual orientation → up to applicant occupation → socialite amongst high society in wizarding london future information → wife of lucius malfoy, mother of draco malfoy

— she is best described as ;

The sweet scent of freshly important MACAROONS eaten at afternoon tea & PINK CHAMPAGNE poured into a crystal glass. She is the echoing LAUGH in a GIRLS BATHROOM after a WICKED joke is told & a SECRET whispered behind a SATIN GLOVE when no one is looking. She is MANIPULATION & STEEL dressed up as BEAUTY & GRACE . Anything but the innocent FLOWER, she is the SERPENT underneath.

— her story starts with ;

tw: death

The glimmering jewel in the crown of the Black family, Narcissa Black is as feared as she is loved. Beautiful like her mother, yet intelligent like her father, Narcissa believes she is entitled to the best that life has to offer and with her family’s social standing she stands head and shoulders above all. The youngest daughter of CYGNUS BLACK [father] and DRUELLA BLACK [mother], Narcissa was in many ways their easiest child, she was a beautiful girl who liked beautiful things and her mother in particular was happy to give her them. Narcissa completed her family perfectly, giving her mother an outlet for someone to talk make-up and clothing with which bored her more politically minded sisters. Despite their clear differences in personality, Narcissa grew up close to her sisters BELLATRIX BLACK [sibling] and ANDROMEDA BLACK [sibling], though she at times found their behaviour quite tiresome. Like their father Bellatrix was opinionated, though Narcissa noticed she was often forthcoming with her opinion when no one had asked, whilst Andromeda hid her beauty in the pages of a book rather than make connections with other members of their society.

It became clear quite early in Narcissa’s life that it was she that would bear the weight of making an advantageous marriage and to further her family line, with her eldest sister destined for a career in politics and Andromeda presumably for one in academia. Hogwarts school was her first real taste of how to not only command a room but a social group. The moment she was seated at the Slytherin table, Narcissa took note of all of the eligible people who were sorted into her house, careful to ensure that ELEANOR YAXLEY [best friend], KLAUDIE BURKE [close friend], ROSALINE DAVIS [close friend] ZARINA ZABINI [close frriend] and VALERIA BULSTRODE [close friend] had a seat beside her. Making friends from The Sacred Twenty-Eight was of Narcissa’s top priority and like minded witches who were easy to manage were her preferred sort of people. Other names had crossed her list, but the likes of GENEVIEVE AVERY [friend/adversary] seemed more content with making themselves look better and eclipsing Narcissa’s spotlight in the process, which meant girls like ANASTASIA SIMINOVA [friend/adversary] EVORA CROUCH [friend/adversary] and PRIMROSE POMFREY [friend/adversary] stayed out of her inner circle and firmly in Genevieve's. 

By the time Narcissa had arrived at school, her sisters had already set a precedent for her arrival. Bellatrix and their cousin EVAN ROSIER [cousin] were merciless bullies who targeted muggle-borns, whilst Andromeda was a well liked model student and prefect, meaning Narcissa was unlikely to be bothered. A model student also and a prefect whilst at Hogwarts, Narcissa was somewhat of a combination of her two sisters, unwilling to back down from a challenge but preferred to conduct her attacks secretly. A persuasive witch, Narcissa was able to convince others to do her dirty work for her. People like RABASTAN LESTRANGE [close friend] took care of her cousin SIRIUS BLACK [cousin/adversary] and the disgraceful group he chose to surround himself with, whilst the occasional bit of gossip and a quiet word to her teachers here and there from herself and REGULUS BLACK [cousin/close friend] or VICTOR YAXLEY [close friend] put to bed any threats to her power within school and helping her secure her spot in The Slug Club, as well as her positions of prefect and later Head Girl. 

Finally into the world, the idea of working before she ran her own household did not appeal to Narcissa and she quickly got to work establishing herself in Wizarding London’s social scene. Looking good was a full time job for Narcissa, but she was not your average Sacred Twenty-Eight witch with marriage on her mind. From an intelligent family with important political connections, Narcissa had a sharp mind and was careful not only about what she was saying but what she was hearing and who was her ideal match. LUCIUS MALFOY [friend/potential love interest] had been on Narcissa’s mind for some time. A friend of her eldest sister’s, she had watched him rise in the political world, just like his father had done before him and fancied him as someone she maybe could consider her intellectual and social equal. The two had been getting closer before her world had changed and despite having their best interests at heart, Narcissa is still wounded by the attack on her reputation that followed the untimely death of The Minister’s son BOOKER BAGNOLD [person of interest].

Before his death, her family was established, now they were questioned. In an unfortunate string of events that saw Narcissa accidently holding Booker’s wand that evening due to a plot by her sister gone wrong, Narcissa was forced to endure an embarrassing trip to The Ministry’s integration room, her face on The Daily Prophet and worst of all, her marriage prospect suddenly in a relationship with a Witch Weekly model. Narcissa was outraged. Then her family let her in on their dirty secret. The Dark Lord was a mysterious wizard who had seemingly chosen her family to further his word, a powerful man, unlike any they had seen before, her father and Bellatrix believed he was the key to making their world a better and less tolerant place, leaving people like them at the top without having to endure the likes of squibs and muggle-borns. Narcissa was reluctant to join the ranks of The Dark Lord, until she discovered he had another important follower that wished to rise in his ranks, Lucius. 

Narcissa is as content as she can muster being an associate of The Dark Lord’s and listening out in high society for anything that may threaten their plans. Instead she chooses to focus on her image and achieve her ultimate goal. Complete control of London’s high society and the man of her dreams by her side. Calculated, Narcissa has began to insert herself into the life of ANDRESSA PARKINSON [person of interest] to find out her secrets and shortcomings in the hopes of driving a wedge between her and Lucius, though Andressa may end up being the least of her problems. As the most sought after witch in Wizarding London, the target on Narcissa’s back is a large one, with multiple people begging to see her reign at the top come to an end, including those within her own friendship group. There are many who would do whatever it takes to topple her, including using dirt gathered on her more unassuming sister Andromeda in order to do it. 

— she is a LEVEL 5 WITCH & readied for war ;

[the-haylien]

A Canticle for Leibowitz

by Walter M. Miller Jr.

This book was originally published in 1959. It is post-apocalypse science fiction. Phrases among the English appear in Latin and Hebrew. I looked them up as I went, but eventually just read past them for the most part. The world is reduced to post nuclear rubble. Artifacts of the past are looked upon with wonder and veneration. You realize how very easily a doodad we take for granted today might become a mysterious holy relic in the future. Miller foresaw the mutation of science dominated by religion.

The book is divided into three sections, each separated by about 600 years, with new characters, either accepting their ancestor’s historical assessments, or wondering if their fathers might have been ignorant of reality. The setting feels medieval.

In Fiat homo (Let there be Man), Brother Francis seems to be led by the Divine to find a holy place: Fallout Survival Shelter, thanks to an old man. It is a place not seen or touched by any person in centuries. And there he finds the holiest of holy documents: a blueprint. The consequences of his find are not to be fully explored in Brother Francis’ lifetime. At the end of Part One, we get some sense of time as it is said to be the Year of Our Lord 3174.

Fiat Eux (Let them be) follows a skeptic who has some sense of what a blueprint might really represent. It is over six hundred years later and yet the old man from the first section shows up. Has the fallout caused this? Or is there some error in their calendar? They are still in rubble, but finally, after generations of darkness, came the generations of The Light.

Fiat Voluntas Tua (Thy will be done) jarringly jumps into a space-age, with humans evolved to their environment. And there he is again, that impossibly old man. The religious hierarchy remains in place even after thousands of years. The question is, have they evolved beyond their petty desires of control, domination, and war?

I wasn’t sure at first, but I liked this book. I was compelled to finish it, even though it took thousands of years. It doesn’t have the action and good guy versus bad guy that we are accustomed to in science fiction these days. But it certainly makes you think. The Latin phrases give it an authentic feel of generational connection and misunderstanding. In 2000 years, our progeny will laugh at our language and the funny way we look. They may wonder why we fought huge wars and killed so many people – or they may wonder why we didn’t kill a lot more people. Either way, they will still be us.

You might enjoy this book if you like apocalypse stories that cover multiple generations. You will enjoy it if you like to read books that make you think. This classic book is still provocative, 65 years after it was published.

[casbitchh]

i’m reading a math paper 😔

[rye-views]

Tarzan, the Ape Man (1959) dir. Joseph M. Newman. 7/10

I wouldn't recommend this movie to my friends. I wouldn't rewatch this movie.

Tarzan's hair is so styled here lol.

Tarzan is all smiles. No wonder she fell for him. I do like all the animals just doing their thing. Aw at the cub romping around. Underwater scenes are fun but the graphics are I guess graphics for back in the day. I love our chimp friend. I love the way the elephant rolled up from its side.

I don't love how it seems like white people are the right race here. It's like white man versus beast. and everything not a civilized white man is a beast here. I'm not loving the treatment of animals either (unless it's kind), like we came to their territory. omg dad noooo. Holt letting her go makes no sense. That final kiss made no sense.

The elephant crawling is something I've never thought about. But, not the elephant having to crawl to its grave.

[britishchick09]

senpai and lil' gideon- i mean his attorney, m. e. newell in 1939! ;D

he sort of looks like gideon, right? ;)

[sesiondemadrugada]

Sleeping Beauty (Clyde Geromini, 1959).

[simplydozing]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥

Stanley Pines x Reader Multiple rounds through the shack, one being a little more harsh (and memorable) than the others. Word Count: 1959 || Ao3

⚠️❗ Contains 18+ Content ❗⚠️

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

You don’t know how it happened, but god, what a miracle it was.

 The whole Mystery Shack was empty. Everyone was out except for you and your darling Stanley.

Which led to you being fucked and thrown around like the rag doll you were.

 There’s already a huge mess trailing from your shared room. The day started off strong with some lazy morning lovemaking that then quickly escalated into a primal hunger for more.

And Stanley’s stamina could not be further from over.

 He had you on the rails of the staircase displaying yourself for him to go down on you. You were on your hands and knees in the bathroom taking his length after you said you’d “freshen up.” Both of you ran up the hot water in the shower while he pinned you against the wall, and even then, you’d warm him back up with your hands alone.

 It took a lot of convincing, willpower, and blowing to get him to finally take a break.

 You needed some time to recover, so you decided to make breakfast while he was getting dressed in his iconic suit.

 Which led you to now.

 You finished cooking by the skin of your teeth when he waltzed in and saw your figure leaning against the counter. Your oversized sleep shirt was slipping off your shoulder as you poured coffee in both your mugs. He shares a moment of sincerity, gladly taking his cup and kissing you on the top of your head. It wasn’t until he started to get a better look at you when he started getting hard again.

 Your shirt barely covered your shorts, exposing your perfect legs. They were crossed over each other, and following them up brought attention to the way you were in your relaxed state. You held your cute little mug in both hands, and as you brought it up to sip on, your eyes would close so you could savor it. Your hair was messy, but it only added to how effortlessly gorgeous you looked. And when you would look back up at him, your eyes would shimmer, like they were pleading.

 He had to take you yet again.

“…And I think the Shack- Stanley are you listening to m-“

 He attacks you, yanking you by the shoulders and plunging his tongue down your throat. Your mug drops to the floor, the sound of the shattering ceramic making you jump, but you’re not going to do anything about that. Not right now.

 Your hands flew through his hair. Your eyes were glued shut as you tried to focus on his pace and match it.

 But Stan, being the man of many surprises, asserts his dominance by lifting you and propping you on the counter, earning him a squeal from you.

 He never slowed down, even when slipping his fingers in the hem of your shorts and trying to pull them off. But you chewed his bottom lip, signaling him to stop. And he does, but with a slightly disappointed look on his face.

“Come on, love. Breakfast is getting cold.”

  You caress his face and give a half-lidded smile.

  That’s not enough to stop him though.

 He looks over his shoulder at the stove that’s covered in pans of his favorites. He then turns his attention to the table that you cutely set up.

 A part of him feels bad for what he’s about to do to you. He leans in.

“I’m not hungry for that right now, doll.”

 Before you know it, you’re being lifted yet again and are being taken to that little table, which you are then slammed onto. You are bent almost all the way over it, your ribs press into the wood.

“S-Stanley!” You exclaim.

 He’s not listening though. Not until he hears your pleasurable screams and moans for the fifth time today.

 Your shorts are torn off and thrown behind him. You hear the fateful zip of his pants.

 He grabs the back of your neck to hold you down when he rams himself in you. You gas and shudder, feeling his whole length inside you all at once.

 He starts to thrust at an already fast speed.

 The table and everything on it rocks intensely. Some of the silverware falls. You’re gripping the tablecloth like your life depended on it.

 He keeps going, pounding harder and harder into you. His winded breathing grows more into rough growling as his grip on you gets stronger. You can feel his fingernails seep into your tender flesh.

 Tears prick at the corner of your eyes but it’s not from pain. Your own breathing- gasping- sounds more like wheezing. You can’t lift your head up to gulp in air, and his whole hand just about engulfs your throat. You tried calling out to him, but he’s so caught up in pleasure that you fear he’s tuned you out.

 It’s not until you slam your hands on the table to get his attention. Even then, it takes him a minute to slow down.

“St… P-Pines,” you rasp.

 He sees what he’s doing, and he removes his hand from its position at your nape. You take this opportunity to fill your lungs as much as you can before he can move on.

 You can’t see it, but he’s wearing a bastardly smirk on his face.

“If you needed help breathing you coulda just asked!”

 He bunches his fingers through the tangles of your hair, snatching your head upwards. He resumes his aggressive prodding. You didn’t know it was possible, but he was going deeper in you.

 Your eyes roll to the back of your head and saliva pools out your pretty little mouth. Your nails dig into the wood of the table, leaving small streaks engraved in it.

 You’re choking on your own spit. Stan can’t help but go wild at the sound of your gagging, so he pulls back your hair one last time. The strength he does it with makes you think he’s going to rip your head clean off before he lets go. You falter.

“Let me give ya somethin’ to gag on again.”

He pulls you in and reaches around to find your mouth. Your jaw is clenched, but he can feel where you’ve been salivating.

“Another wet hole just waiting for me,” his gruff voice warms your bare shoulder.

“Open up.”

 You follow his command and shakily part your lips for him. He decides you aren’t quick enough and jams his fingers in anyway. His middle and ring fingers are enough to make you struggle.

 He then matches his hand to the thrust of his hips. But it’s not enough.

He recalls the way you often use your teeth… need I say more?

“Shit. Teeth, doll, teeth.”

 You obey, not because you want to, but because that’s all you can do.

 You lower jaw stutters, bottom teeth grazing them.

“Come on.” His guttural voice fills your ears.

“You can handle much more than this.”

 Your eyes squeeze shut, your mouth does the opposite.

“There we go.”

You’re getting fucked in both ends  and there’s nothing you can do about it.

 He regains that same pace as before. He groans out of ecstasy yet again, but you don’t want it to stop. If it were up to you, it would never stop.

  He thinks the same of you, hearing you once again choking him down.

 You’re his plaything to have his way with.

 You’re his-

“Doll,” he hisses.

 You softly clamp down on his girthy calloused fingers, answering him.

“I’m- hnf. Oh, I’m ‘boutta c-“

 You already know, being the good little toy you are. So you act out, hearing down on his hand and moaning the loudest you ever had so far.

 You were well aware of the magic you worked on him. That was his favorite thing about you.

 Stan groaned out again, upping his hostility with you.

 And the more rough he was, the louder you moaned.

 He enjoyed your borderline screams a little too much. But how could he not? His precious angel was singing just for him.

 He was just about balls deep when you finally felt warm on the inside once more. One last thrust, and you suddenly feel the relief of him finishing.

 You then feel him letting up. Unsteady movements and heavy panting let you know he was done. He retracts his fingers, a thick string of saliva stretches out from your lips. He wipes it off on his suit jacket.

 Cum dribbles out your gaping hole when he agonizingly pulls out.

 He tucks it back in his pants and zips them back up. You’re left convulsing on the table as you try to recuperate.

 You brace yourself against it, palms pressing into the grain, and make an attempt to hoist yourself up.

 Seeing this, he’s right by your side, snaking an arm around your waist and gently picking you up.

 Your knees buckle and you stumble forward, but before you can fall, Stan pulls you to lean on him. You clench the lapels of his blazer. The scent of sweat and cigars flood your nose.

“Easy, now. Easy. Are you okay?”

 He reaches for the tablecloth, of all things, to wrap you in. He then finds a chair, and eases you in it. You wince on contact with the hard surface, but you wave it off when you see a twinge of him fretting.

“I’m okay, dear. Just a little sore,” you half-laughed.

“I-I’m sorry, doll. You were just- And I…”

“Stanley Pines.”

 You reach out and nab him by his string tie and tug him in, his blushing face now centimeters away from yours.

“I can handle much more than that,” you sneer.

 You cup his face and initiate another kiss.

 But before anything else could happen, you hear the screeching halt of that beat up golf cart.

 He pulls away.

“Shit. We gotta get you cleaned up. You okay to walk?”

 He offers you a hand, and you stand. Albeit wobbly, you use him for support to help guide you back upstairs to the bedroom. From there, you don’t lift a finger. He carefully wipes away any fluids with a damp washcloth and helps you get dressed.

 You both were halfway down the staircase again when the front door flew open.

 The twins, Soos, and Wendy looked around in shock.

“What happened here?!” Dipper started.

“Yeah, you both look bleggh,” Mable stuck her tongue out, mocking the undead.

 You and Stan glance at each other. You both should have straightened the place up in between rounds.

“Uhh, we were-”

“Attacked!”

“By were-”

“Spiders!”

 Damn it, Stanley.

“Were-spiders! We were attacked by giant were-spiders, yeah,” it took all the strength in you not to smack him upside the head.

Thankfully, the group bought it. At least the kids did. Dipper was flipping out and Mabel darted to their room screaming. Her brother right behind her. All Soos and Wendy cared about was finding somewhere to knock out for possibly the rest of the day, too exhausted to care about anything else. They drag each other another few steps before passing out on the floor in front of you.

 You and Stanley just stand there.

“Giant were-spiders, really?”

 You break the silence and cross your arms.

“It’s better than ‘We were struck by a tornado,’”

 He shrugs. You shake your head.

 Back to silence. You both look around.

“We really need to clean this place up before anyone gets suspicious. I’m pretty sure I left my shorts in the kitchen.”

“Yeah…”

Needless to say, the rest of the day was spent putting the shack back together, and perhaps there were a few more rounds when no one was paying attention.

[weirdlookindog]

Mapita Cortés in Misterios de ultratumba (1959)

[emmieexplores2]

1959