lawn stories

Everyone’s waiting with baited breath for Stardew Valley to come out on a handheld/portable console and I’m sitting here rocking back and forth in my rocking chair like, “Back in my day, that was called Harvest Moon DS, sonny.”

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Greenpeace protesters unfurl ‘resist’ banner near the White House

Greenpeace USA activists scaled a construction crane to unfurl a giant banner reading “Resist” several blocks from the White House Wednesday morning.

Branding acts of protest and dissent as part of a larger “resistance” has become increasingly common in the months since Donald Trump was elected president. The banner is yellow with red rays of stylized sunlight beaming out from the dark horizon.

The 70-by-35-foot banner, 300 feet in the air, appears to dangle above the White House when viewed from the Ellipse of the South Lawn.

See FULL STORY by Michael Walsh/Yahoo News

Photos: (from top) Alex Brandon/AP, Saul Loeb/AFP/Getty Images, Carolyn Kaster/AP

See more images of Greenpeace protesters unfurling a ‘resist’ banner on Yahoo News

Mercury

Because Prompto can kick anyone’s ass

In fifty years, I don’t know how I’ll explain to my grandchildren that the scariest game ever made had me playing a character named Eggs Benedict who enjoys casual bongo music, romantic vampire soap operas and exotic butters.

love is nothing [chapter one]

(picture credit)


summary: In the end, she’ll always be a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and there’s only so much rebelling a Huckleberry like him can do. [AU, the gang grows up in Texas, where Maya’s an outsider growing up in a trailer park and Lucas is a golden boy living in suburbia; paths cross, sparks fly, and love is fragile]  | senior year, high school |


i.

When Maya was a little girl, she and her mama used to take little trips. They’d pile into Katy’s beat up old Sedan with its rusty door and the heater that worked one day and not the next, and they’d drive around. Katy called it house hunting, and as a little girl, Maya let herself believe it was a dream that would one day come to fruition. They would drive by the nicest houses in the whole town, with their green lawns and multiple stories. Their mailboxes with the family surname painted prettily on the side. The flowerbeds kept in pristine condition, looking like something out of a magazine for Home & Garden.

And sometimes, with their bag of drive-thru McDonalds, they’d idle by a curb and watch as a family sat down at their dining room table, held hands as they said Grace, and then dug into a home cooked meal on their best dishes. With each house they passed, Maya would declare “I want that one,” or “That one’s my new favorite,” and Katy would nod and say, “Yeah, it’s nice, isn’t it? You think it’s got a pool? We’ll need a nice pool in the summers.” Together, they would map out what each house looked like on the inside, guessing how many bedrooms and bathrooms there were, and how big the kitchen was and what kind of food they made there. Until it grew late and Maya would yawn and Katy would check the time and mutter that she had to get up early tomorrow for a shift at the diner. So they would take that beat-up old car back over to their own neighborhood, climb the steps to their trailer, and return to reality.

For years, Maya would build up the image of her perfect house in her head, with everything her and her mother could ever want or need. Later, when she found an interest in drawing, she would put memory to paper and map out what every inch of it would look like. She’d tuck that memory away in a musty drawer of a desk she rarely used, to collect dust and the cobwebs of a time in her life when she believed in miracles.

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