Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win

plebeiantologist:

ok but have any of you thought about pacific rim from the perspective of the precursors 

it’s like. you just bought a new house, but it’s infested with termites, so you call the exterminator thinking “alright, yeah, just get those termites gone and then we can get moved in” 

the exterminator drops off the face of the planet. you never hear from them again. so you send in another, and you just keep sending them, and it’s always the same. you’re wondering if there’s something up by this point. 

and then one of them comes back, battle-torn and bedraggled like “THE TERMITES HAVE BUILT HUMAN-SIZED CONSTRUCTS OUT OF SAWDUST AND SCRAP WIRING AND ONE ESTABLISHED A PSYCHIC LINK WITH ME.” 

by this point you’re saying “what the entire fuck.” 

so you call in the best of the best, the Elite exterminators, and guess what? the termites slaughter them all in a coordinated assault, and then come to your house disguised as one of the exterminators and set off a pipe bomb in your garage. 

man, that’d be a trip and a half

(via fuckyeahpacificrim)

durpacerangerrogjro:

bogleech:

I’ve repeatedly seen British people make fun of American food for apparently always being either “too sweet or too salty” but our cuisine is still pretty mild compared to a lot of other countries, and having repeatedly tried British food, I’m pretty sure the term you’re looking for is “having any flavor at all.”

Britain invaded over half the world for spices and then decided they didn’t like any of them

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

they-told-me-be-seen-not-heard asked: I would kill for more howlie stories. Particularly the one where everyone dressed up as women. Please? I have coffee, bacon, and a genuine grenade (not sure if it still works) from 1942. (Ps pls embarass the golden retriever known as the Star Spangled Man as much as you can. It's funny.)

buckykingofmemes:

well, us howlies were willing to do downright stupid stuff for even stupider reasons, so it never took much effort to talk everybody into doing something really really dumb. usually i was the one trying to keep everyone for getting their stupid selves killed, but im proud to say that this particular occasion was all my doing.

so its july 1944, and nazis are still occupying paris. we were sent in to pick up some crucial info from a resistance informer in the heart of the city. but at this point we were already starting to be recognizable, so we needed to disguise ourselves to get through the city. the higher-ups hadnt been specific on how exactly to conduct this particular op, so, left to our own devices, we naturally concluded that we should dress one of the most overmuscled commando squads in the allied forces as women. 

we were good at special ops, not logic.

i think whoever suggested it was joking, but in typical howlies fashion, we took things waaay to far, and soon enough we were sourcing dresses and wigs. dum dum and pinky and gabe and jaques and falsworth and morita had to shave their mustaches off. dum dum cried. 

morita managed to get his hands on some makeup–he refused to tell us where from–which was great, until we realized that none of us had any idea what to do with it. but then steve admitted what exactly he’d been up to with the ladies of the star spangled show. turns out that aside from hauling their luggage everwhere, he’d also been on hair-and-makeup duty nearly every night. i guess the ladies decided to put his artistic skills to use, because the man knew his way around a blush brush. (the rest of us were not sure what a blush brush was.)  even in 2017, he can still do a contour like nobodys business, because he apparently decided that was something worth knowing. so steve did our makeup, and all of us learned how to do lipstick. more useful combat skills for the howlies dossiers. 

falsworth had a friend who ran a really fantastic underground drag show, so he negotiated wigs in return for promising to send steve over to help with a show sometime. we did not tell steve about that promise until later.  gabe found the dresses, and i dont know where he got them, because they were somehow big enough for us. 

except for steve, who has the waist-to-shoulder proportions of a pizza slice. he got stuck halfway into a dress–caught with one arm in, his head and other arm out–with his fully-made-up face slowly turning redder and redder. all of us tried, but we could not wedge steve into that dress. 

so instead we put him into a wheelbarrow full of garbage. 

the rest of us–the worlds burliest but most well-made-up ladies–set off in groups of twos and threes through occupied paris. happy sam pulled the short straw and had to wheel along the stevebarrow, which not only stunk but was heavy as hell. the nazis working the checkpoints must have liked their ladies large and muscular, because we made it through to the drop point with no problems, aside from falsworth getting a little to in to the flirting. steve kept griping, but we kept telling him garbage is quiet steve, shut up.

we made it to the drop point, this big old house on  rue des grands augustins, one of those huge mansions. but what we’d carefully avoided telling steve was who exactly the house belonged to, because his birthday was the next day, and this–aside from being a crucial intelligence mission–was his birthday present.

the house belonged to pablo picasso.

so we all slipped in through a side door, and when happy sam and the steve barrow finally caught up with the rest of us, happy sam turned it over sideways and out tumbled a very irate, still made-up steve in his captain america costume. 

he was pissed as hell until he realized who exactly the weird little guy covered in paint was, and then he blushed so red i thought he’d cook the makeup right off his face, and he started stammering like that time in first grade suzy miller said he was cute.

anyway, he and picasso got along like a house on fire, and the rest of us enjoyed some proper french cooking while they babbled art at each other and scribbled in each other’s sketchbooks. picasso drew steve a portrait of himself, which is why one of steve’s battered stained sketchbooks is valued at 700 thousand dollars. it’s because halfway through theres a bunch of picasso sketches, and a little painting of captain america wearing makeup in a heap of garbage.

not that you can really tell, of course. cubism. 

runawayjohanna:

Some Belated Valentines 2k17 Highlights from Flower Land

- The giant Russian man who stormed through the door while we were quite busy and shouted “Whoooo is helping me? I need BEST FLOWERS in the WORLD because I have BEST WIFE!!”
- The old man who picked up his roses at 8 AM and when I said “I hope she likes them!” giggled and said “These oughta keep me outta the dog house for at least a week!”
- At 3 PM: “I need a delivery of tulips to the south side today.” “We aren’t doing any more deliveries to the south side today.” “I should tell you that this is on behalf of my client {Redacted Football Player} of The Bears and he is willing to pay literally anything.”
- “Hey, boss, I have an order from FootballPlayer of The Bears and he is willing to pay literally anything.” “Don’t you mean FootballPlayer of The Bears FOR NOW?”
-“Okay tell him we’ll do it but he has to buy all our remaining tulips.”
- One guy wanted to buy a teddy bear holding a real rose so I made a teeny tiny rose bouquet for the bear to hold and it is easily the cutest thing I have ever made.
- This same guy grabbed a 55 dollar
arrangement from my table and brought it to me and said “Add flowers to this until it is 200 dollars.”
- Valentine’s Day makes some men crazy.
- When the last man came in to pick up his arrangement twenty minutes after we were supposed to close everyone who was working shouted his name in unison and it was Hilarious.
- All the parents sending flowers to their single professional daughters. Almost all of them made me teary. People from all over the country have daughters who live in Chicago and are single and they all wanted to send their single Chicago daughters flowers.
- “A man is calling and he says you are his best friend?” “What?” “He has an Eastern European accent?” “OH! It’s the man who has the best wife!”
- “I would like 100 roses.” “That will be 600 dollars.” “I would like 12 roses.”

(via stormi-lying-girl)

faun-songs:

broliloquy:

skelefolk:

snakegay:

why does so much post apocalypse media have people wearing straight up bdsm/fetish gear like. do the kinksters watch the world ending and think “oh boy i can wear my bondage gear in public now”

thats actually exactly what happens

What I wanna know is why the spiky kink warriors are always the bad evil marauders. They might be into some weird shit and unafraid to show it but that doesn’t mean they want to go around killing dudes. They’re a tight-knit bunch. A lot of them are queer. They understand the importance of community.

If the government collapses and all laws come to an end, the people rampaging around killing and looting are gonna be like, frat boys and 4chan rejects. You can mistrust the bondage raiders all you like but they’re definitely the ones you’re going to run to for help when the neoliberal blood cultists and Nazi meme demons lay siege to your survivor enclave. There’s gonna be gayboy berserkers busting up slaver gangs and burning down warboy frat houses. The assless-chaps leather daddies and weird petplay people are gonna be the accidental peacekeepers of the post-apocalyptic world just because they’re the only motherfuckers who understand the importance of consent anymore.

Listen. Don’t come to me asking how to get the secret cadre of bisexual death commandoes to protect your wretched tent village if you’re scared that we might call in the kinksters for backup. I don’t give a shit if they dress up like dogs and spend all day writing poems about butt plugs. There’s assholes out there acting like Vlad the Impaler on a meth bender and you’re afraid of seeing a nipple. Fuck you. If you really want to get rid of the MRA death gangs you’re going to have to accept that a lesbian chainsaw dominatrix or two might be involved. It’s the fucking post-apocalypse my guy we gotta weigh our priorities here

@hobbitsaarebas

(via wildehacked)