hipsterkittypostingteenybopper:
Re: Purge.
If everything was legal for like twenty-four hours I’d start a communal garden.
This is barely even hyperbole.
I would legit start a communal garden with whoever wanted to join me.
I think that would be fucking dope.
Rewrite of The Purge where, for 24 hours, people hurriedly complete all those renovations and projects that the council forbids. Helen, leader of the PTA, laughs maniacally as she tears grass from her lawn with a pitchfork, her thirteen-year-old daughter Emily’s arms red with mud as she wades through the carnage, planting thyme. Jack and Mitch have left their friendly smiles behind at the RSL; today their faces show only grim determination as they methodically shovel gravel into potholes and pour bitumen. The local biker gang, gathered on the corner, are the most rambunctious of the mischief-makers, whooping and hollering as nail guns are driven into plywood, assembling miniature by-the-road shelters for the homeless to rest on cold nights. Their noise covers the sounds of Katy and Sam moving from street to street with their trolleys, picking up unsold or unwanted food from houses and restaurants to give to the hungry without fear of taxation or food safety reprisals. They’re young, and still scared of being caught.
But there’s no one to catch them. Not tonight.
…You know you live in a dystopian capitalist hellscape when….
Category: Uncategorized
I ended up having a really interesting conversation with some people at the bus stop today. They were getting out of some sort of ‘clean and sober’ meeting and had starting saying how they were so bored because they didn’t have anything to do, and had to stay at home because all their old friends would pull them back. So I said something like, ‘So this is the time to do all the stuff your parents told you they didn’t have money/time for!’
“Whatcha mean?”
“You know, like when you were five and you REALLY wanted to have that toy or do that thing and you were like, ‘Please mom please I gotta have this I gotta go do this’ and they went ‘Hell no you think I’m paying for that do you want to goddamn EAT?’ “
And this light went on in their eyes. The lady is going to go check thrift stores for an Easybake Oven and I told her about Wilton cake decorating classes. The dude is going to Griffith Park and ride horses, because, ‘I always wanted to be a cowboy, and you can’t drink when you’re on a horse ‘cause you’ll fucking die!’
Fuck it. This is what being an adult is. Sure it’s bills and work and relationships, but damn it, it’s also time to do the things you LIKE.
I signed up for a free class/lecture on Water Gardens. I’m going. It’s time.
Jill. Jill you are wonderful.
#PrayForBarcelona
Ànims.
Historical Fanfic No One Asked For: Blue Coat Red Coat
Steve found his mark in the barn.
He
held his wounded belly, chest rising and falling. A wounded, wild animal. He
looked up at Steve with all the defiance a dying man could muster. Steve held
his bayonet at the ready. He should’ve shot. The man was a rebel, a traitor to
the king. But that look in those steel eyes– they spoke of desperation, of a
life suppressed and denied freedom.
Steve wasn’t daft. In those eyes, Steve saw himself, clear and free of England’s patriotism. He wore the colors of oppression, the symbol of a king who let others die in his stead, he grew up reciting prayers altered to fit a king angered by the Catholic Church. He was a lie, and all it took was that flash, unfiltered, raw and so very clear in the blue coat’s gaze. So Steve lowered his bayonet, dropped
to his knees and pulled out his bandages.The man flinched away, but his throat betrayed him with mangled
whines of pain. He let Steve undo the buttons on his jacket and rip open his cotton shirt. The wound glistened in the barn. Orange flames from Steve’s
lantern painted the man’s chest in wild flashes of color. Steve pulled out a
flask of water, cleaning the wound. He’d need ale to prevent infection, but
Steve couldn’t move him like this.“W-why? So you c-can take me prisoner? Torture me for
information?” The man spit in Steve’s face. “Fuck you.”“No.” Steve wiped the saliva off his cheek. “Because fuck
the king. That’s why.”The man’s eyes rounded, his sharp gaze was less wolf and more
human. His skin even warmed as he relaxed against the hay.“Those’re traitor’s words,” he said before coughing. “You’re a captain.” He pointed to the gorget over Steve’s sternum.
“Yeah well, maybe I’ve seen enough people die for a man who’s
too scared to fight his own battles.”The man tried to laugh, but it came out garbled and wet. He
rested his head back, adam’s apple bobbing. “Welcome to the rebellion, red
coat.”“What’s your name, blue coat?”
The man flashed a smile, his canines glinting in the lantern light.
With a wince, he sat up more, holding the bandages where Steve packed the
wound. “Get me outta here alive, and I’ll think about telling you.”
fighting my insecurities with art… if you aren’t happy with where you are at the moment … keep practising.
Spread this around; remind the world that for every Nazi, there’s an entire train full of sensible people capable of basic moral behaviour.
This kind of awfulness existed before Trump and will continue to exist after, make no mistake. He may have emboldened them, but he didn’t create them. Don’t get lazy after he’s out of the White House. Stand up to white supremacy and bigotry wherever you see it.
-V
A police department did a photoshoot with their new puppy recruits, I’m in love
When shows come off their hiatus
Fandoms
Writers/actors
this is the best thing i’ve seen all day
Season Finales
Writers:
Fandoms:
OMFG it’s back on my dash
Unfuckupable Recipe: Parmesan Crusted Chicken
Hi guys! It’s been a while since I posted one of these, but it’s so fucking good that I had to. For my new followers who haven’t seen this before, these recipes are unfuckupable and the language used within is completely irreverent. Have fun.
Disclaimer: thank Hellmann’s for this recipe, I looked this shit up.
What your hungry ass will need:
Some mayo. I used Best Foods because it’s what we had on hand, but I really don’t give a fuck what brand you like. Use some fucking mayo.
Parmesan. I used Kraft because I’m a cheap and poor sap, okay? Don’t get on your high horse for this, but if you have some expensive shit to use, I ain’t gonna stop you.
Breadcrumbs. Believe it or not, I didn’t have any fucking breadcrumbs. I DID have some sealed dressing from fucking Easter (?????? WHY MOM WHY????) that was actually still good, and smashed it with a hammer. I recommend Italian breadcrumbs, but season them as you will. Make some Cajun variety and send me the recipe and I’m down. I love that shit.
Some chicken. I use tender-sized stuff because it thaws quickly, but I’m not going to stop you from using full-sized breasts (heh), just cut them in half before coating them and shoving them in the oven.
WHAT DO YOU DO?!
Preheat your oven to 425. It was hotter than Satan’s asshole outside today, so I used a toaster oven. Rinse the fucking chicken first off. Chicken juice is nasty shit and none of you want that. Rinse and dry with a paper towel. If you used full breasts, please cut those in half now.
I think that’s the first time I’ve said please in one of these, btw….
Next, place those bad boys on a baking sheet. I put mine on a wire rack inside the baking sheet because it was already there and I’m lazy as fuck. Leave them there for a moment.
Take as much mayo as you want and put it in a bowl. Dump an ass load of Parmesan in said bowl and mix it. It should still be moist enough to spread (think really soft butter). Taste it and season if you want to. Spread it on top of the chicken breasts (I COVERED those babies, but use as much as you want. I’m not gonna judge you.), then sprinkle with the breadcrumbs.
Throw the pan o’ chicken in the oven and wait for 20 god forsaken minutes. Cut open to ensure doneness (or, if you wanna be fancy with a meat thermometer–mine’s broken–check to make sure it’s at least 165).
I ate my chicken from heaven with some pasta (in a Parmesan butter sauce) and peas. You can figure that bit out for yourself.
Enjoy!
hey if yr lgbt reblog this with yr gender/orientation and yr opinion on eating cold soup straight outta the can
The Archery Range 