revolution-now

So my hours were slashed at work after I had a mental health breakdown and I’m gonna need help paying bills. I’m gonna need at least $300 to be ok.

If anyone can donate anything my paypal is Viva.la.revolution.now@gmail.com

anonymous asked:

What are the green day ' eras ' and could u give example pics?

i usually separate most green day eras by album sound, as this band has always been evolving and changing their sound every time they release music. anyways here’s how i personally divide their eras starting from 1987 to current day

1987 - 1993 (the early days, pre-dookie)

includes the band’s formation, their first show, being signed to lookout records, releasing their first album, playing in backyards/basements to crowds of 5 people and eventually gilman, tré cool joining the band, the release of kerplunk

1994 - 1996 (rise to fame and “burning out”)

includes the release of dookie, green day becoming a household name overnight, woodstock 94′, the release of insomniac, touring nonstop for over a year and eventually having to cancel their tour due to exhaustion, as billie said it was a very confusing and overwelming time for the entire band

1997 - 2003 (experimental sounds and personal reflection)

this era is sort of long but is one of my favourites as i truly believe it is what allowed green day to be the band that they are today. it includes nimrod, warning, international superhits, and shenanigans. the release of songs such as good riddance, the band began to write whatever music they wanted to without caring about what others had to say

2004 - 2011 (reinvention, revival, and rock operas)

includes the release of american idiot and the “revival” of green day. the previous experimental era gave green day the guts to do something absolutely crazy and a full blown rock opera was the result. this era also includes bullet in a bible, foxboro hot tubs, another rock opera 21st century breakdown, american idiot on broadway, and awesome as fuck

2012 - 2015 (the trilogy and a well deserved break)

this era was a hectic one as green day released three albums in a row within the span of 5 months. it was a rough time personally for the members of green day, battling things such as addiction and cancer. this era also includes a very long (and needed) break for the band members, focus on their families and personal lives, as well as green day being inducted into the rock and roll hall of fame

2016 - now (revolution radio and happy days)

this is the era we are in now, as well as my personal favourite. green day has said themselves that they have never been healthier and happier after a long couple of years and i’m very excited to see what other great things this band will achieve in the following years. green day is currently on tour playing in australia

Parks and Revolution
  • Hamilton: From now on, we will be using code names. You can address me as Eagle One. Laurens, code name--Been There, Done That. Eliza is--Currently Doing That. Hercules Mulligan is--It Happened Once in a Dream. Lafayette, code name--If I had to Pick a Frenchman. Washington is...Eagle Two.
  • Washington: Oh thank God.

I mean…. Mickie isn’t lying. WWE acts like the women who came before Sasha, Charlotte, Becky, etc. don’t even exist.

WWE wants us to pretend that this is just the start of the women’s revolution when Beth Phoenix, Michelle McCool, Layla, Chyna, Lita, Trish, Jazz, Mickie, etc. they been started the women’s revolution.

What’s going on now is just a continuation of that.

When you’re on spring break but legit every single one of your teachers assigns homework because of all the “free time” you’ll have:

I Can’t Help But Think Of Romania

I can’t help but think of Romania.

I lived in Romania for two years as a missionary, from 2004-06. I grew to love that country deeply. It’s been long-burdened by its communist past; it wasn’t just a form of government, but rather a mindset that was fused into the fibers of the country. There’s no more stark a symbol of that than the block apartment buildings that fill the cities. They’re concrete from skin to marrow and each one seems intent on keeping the populace in its place.

There’s a city in the west called Hunedoara. The countryside leading to it is out of some fairy tale. There’s even a storybook castle on one side of the city. But surrounding the city is a ring of abandoned, crumbling industrial wasteland.

I remember the train rides that lead from city to city. Some of the trains were more advanced than any train I’ve seen in the United States. Others were rickety steel boxes on wheels, the floors covered in sunflower seeds and spittle. Train rides ranged from a couple hours to 8 and 13 hour train rides. As often as I rode the trains, and even for that long, I was glued to the windows, watching the country go past. It’s beautiful.

The people were warm, always – always – offering more, even when they’d already given. Especially when it came to food. They offered, sometimes, what seemed to be just about all they had. They are a generous people. I even miss the times when we were shouted at, kicked out, threatened, chocked, and spat on. I walked the streets in the fall in Sibiu, an old fortress city. I trudged through Bucharest in the winter, where the streets go unpaved. I ran down steps, two at a time, to catch the subway more times than I can count. I ran through rainstorms on the way home, soaked to the bone. I miss it all.

Some of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen, and some of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever had, I saw and I had there.
Some of the worst things I’ve ever seen happened there, too. It wasn’t uncommon to see a child wandering the streets. Some were beggars, whose first words taught by their parents were asking for money. For some kids, it was literally all they knew how to say, and they didn’t even know what it meant. I once saw a kid, no more than 8, huffing silver paint out of a plastic bag because it took his mind off of being so hungry all the time.

The weight of communism, even decades removed, still smothered this whole place. It hung around the necks of everyone there, even those who hadn’t yet been born. Everywhere I went, people told me stories of where they were during the Christmas Revolution of 1989. 

Nicolae Ceausescu was the dictator of Romania at the time. He was vain, and cruel, and petty. Run of the mill communist dictator in the Stalin mold. Starvation and scarcity were the norm. Children, even those with parents, went hungry. To make a political point, Ceausescu cut off supplies from an entire city in the west, Timisoara. Of course, this caused more unrest than order. In a speech in what is now called Revolution Square, he spoke from a municipal building’s balcony, and tried to placate the people. But they shouted him down. Even Ceausescu loyalists (paid plants, mostly) were overpowered by the crowd’s chants. It was deafening. They stormed the building and the revolution began.

Ceausescu and his Deputy Prime Minister wife, Elena, fled, but were soon caught and convicted. The military who had served Ceausescu, and usually acted on his command, knew which way the wind was blowing, and they held a tribunal. It was quick and unanimous, and the Ceausescus were found guilty of, among other things, genocide.

Nicolae and Elena Ceausescu were executed by firing squad at a secret military installation. On Christmas day, on live television. They filmed their dead faces so that the people could know that they were really dead and gone.

A beautiful country was ransacked and oppressed by its leaders. For power, for profit, for ego. The country suffered, and eventually revolted. Romania still bears the weight of that suffering, deep in its mind and soul. Just like the concrete block apartments: skin to marrow. When last I saw the building from which Ceausescu spoke in Revolution Square, there were still bullet holes in the walls, far above reach.

Romania is a beautiful country, because of its land and its people, and despite its authoritarian past. Though knives may be removed easily enough, wounds are often stubborn to heal.

So. 

As Donald Trump, a man-child who is as vain as he is insecure, and as vengeful as he is delusional, seeks to establish himself as an infallible leader… as he orders scientific data be deleted… as he calls facts fake, and propaganda real… as he flippantly talks about committing war crimes in Iraq… as he seeks to defund arts programs and social safety nets… as he makes his press secretary tell flagrant lies about petty, obvious things like the size of his inauguration crowd… as he seeks to exhaust our capacity to think critically, and speak truth to power… as he seeks to dismantle constitutional rights, and strip the country itself in order to make money… as he continually displays signs of serious mental illness… as he proves to be not just a buffoon, but a real lunatic… I can’t help but think of Romania.

And as I think of all the inevitable harm that will come to people as a direct result of Trump’s actions, and the people that will most likely die from his orders – or possibly die in defiance of his orders – I can’t help but think of Romania.

I can’t help but think of Romania because what happened there, and in countless countries around the world and throughout history, can happen here. It is happening here, right now.

Literature, scripture, and history itself have all warned us about a guy like this. And here he is.

If you don’t like political posts, I understand. I don’t like them. Who does? But I will not be shy about this guy. Not to you, not to my representatives, and not to any Congressman/woman who seems to have dropped their spine on the way to work. 

I’m mad and I’ll stay mad until this guy is no longer in charge of the nuclear codes. What happened in Romania can happen here. Serious damage was done by a two-bit dictator from eastern Europe, and Romania hasn’t yet healed in full. Imagine how long it’ll take for the United States to heal from its own president, whose capabilities far surpass Ceausescu’s. Imagine the damage Trump can inflict, the damage he seeks to inflict. 

Tell me I’m wrong.

We’re only six days into the Trump presidency. This is an American Dictatorship unfolding in real time.

From the Diary of a M. Pontmercy

14th March, 1848

Dear Diary,

As I noted, Paris has gone up in flames again. While I absolutely agree with the principles of the revolution, I now have a family to keep in mind and so I cannot possibly get involved. Furthermore because of my past association with Les Amis de l’ABC and my part in the events of 1832 I may already be compromised, regardless my intentions this time.

So, as you know, I have taken what precaution I could: I moved out of the country. Cosette, bless her heart, thinks that flying all across the continent, to Hungary, is excessive but I’m not willing to take any risks.

We have just finished packing out and have settled in to a dainty little apartment in Pest. I honestly doubt that anything drastic might happen in a sleepy, backwater place such as this.

15th March 1848

M O T H E R F U C K

saamatpob  asked:

Cat knowing Kara is supergirl, and addressing it, also where is Carter? Maggie fangirling over cat grant & the president. (Bonus points if cat meets Mon-el and yeets him like she verbally did to his mom)

Supergirl and Carter addressed here: https://queercapwriting.tumblr.com/post/160725258409/kara-talking-to-cat-about-who-is-on-the-ship-but

She’d been a fan of Leslie Willis’s show.

Of course she had been. The girl was queer as fuck and had absolutely no reverence to speak of.

But Cat Grant? 

Maggie was quite a bit more than a fan.

Meeting James Olsen – becoming friends with James Olsen – was one thing.

She’d admired him and she’d studied his techniques and she’d spent hours pouring over his photographs, but that was nothing like this.

That had nothing of a sexual layer.

But this?

She would feel bad about it – being turned on when she gets back to base, back to their bar, to find Cat Grant calling Winn Winslow and calling the president (damn, damn, the president) Olivia – but one glance at Alex tells her that her girlfriend is in a similar boat.

She smirks because she knows that look – Alex’s gay panic look.

That look of sudden comprehension, of holy shit that’s what that feeling was, of holy shit I really am super gay, aren’t I?

She runs to Alex – runs to her, because she was just in a war zone, and seeing someone she fangirls and crushes over is one thing, but the arms of her beloved are quite another – and suddenly no one else is in the bar, no one else is in the world.

Because Alex is breathing out her name and Maggie is breathing in Alex’s breath and their lips are parted and their hands are grasping for skin, grasping for a pulse, grasping for life, because they’re both alive, both safe, both here.

The Queen of All Media clears her throat, and when Alex and Maggie separate their lips and press their foreheads together breathlessly, they’re both blushing deeply.

“Cat,” Alex clears her throat, finding the taste of her little sister’s old boss new and different in her mouth. “This is my girlfriend, Maggie Sawyer.”

“NCPD, Science Divison,” Maggie sticks out her hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am.”

Cat’s eyes travel up and down Maggie’s war-stained body, lingering on the badge on her hip, on the slight bulge where she’s keeping an extra gun.

“Well I should certainly hope she’s your girlfriend, Agent Danvers; we can’t have random women running in off the streets to our dive bar resistance cell just to make out with one of our leaders and make off with our plans for revolution, now can we?”

A smile is playing on her lips, and she takes in the way Alex’s hands have yet to leave Maggie’s body, the way Maggie’s hands are still grasping at Alex’s to make sure she’s here, to make sure she’s alive, safe. Breathing.

 “And where have you been, Detective?” she wants to know, although she has a fairly good idea.

“Guardian and I were evacuating the elementary school, Ms. Grant. The kids and their teachers are all safe in a bunker,” she turns to update Alex, who nods and sends a quick message over a walkie to her agents to tell them to make sure that bunker stays secure.

“Well, you certainly do choose your company well, Alex,” Cat grins elusively, and Alex and Maggie both melt more than a little bit inside.

She can’t say the same for Kara.

Not entirely.

Because her so-called boyfriend returns, willingly, without her. 

Without her, without her, and Cat knows Alex – and probably Maggie, as well – will destroy him when they get back from wherever that positron cannon contraption is, but Cat also knows that she can’t resist having the first go.

She saunters past an angry-looking Winslow, stilling him with gentle, subtle fingers, and she stops only inches from the Daxamite prince’s body, brushing nonexistent dust off of his shoulders and straightening his shirt like he’s Crater off to the prom.

Except she’ll be proud and bursting with love when she sends Carter off to the prom.

She wants to kill the man she’s grooming now, her eyes studying his wary face.

“You’re Kara’s former boss,” he tells her as if she doesn’t know. “You gave us the distraction we needed to get away from my mother. Thank you.” His voice is light, but he’s frozen in place like he’s terrified of her.

And well he should be.

“Mmmm,” Cat begins, toying with him, because if she doesn’t toy, she’ll resort to cruder tactics. Hell, she might resort to them anyway. 

“I did orchestrate a brilliant distraction, didn’t I? A nearly foolproof plan to give you and Lena a chance to get home to safety. And Supergirl, of course. The woman you claim to love.”

She pauses and Winn watches and Kara’s boyfriend gulps.

“What I would like to know – it’s Prince, isn’t it? – is how you can possibly justify leaving her on that spaceship at the mercy of your mother and a very, very desperate plan to save this planet. Oh, wait, I think I know this one. It’s almost as though I’ve seen this on cable television before. Do you have such few qualms about laying waste to this planet and enslaving the people your mother doesn’t kill because that system worked so well for you back home? And I’m not sure what kinds of numbers you had to pull on that woman to make her forget who she is, how strong she is, how worth it she is – god knows, I’ve been away too long – but I’m back now, my dear, and I assure you, we will repair the damage you’ve done. All of it.”

He jumps at a sudden burst of solemn applause from the corner of the bar, and he and Cat and Winn turn as one to see Alex and Maggie, soberly reveling in the wake of another needed Cat speech.

“I will end you if anything happens to her because you left her up there,” Alex crosses the room and slams him with ease into the nearest wall.

“Whoa,” Winn calls, and Maggie takes one of Alex’s arms and Cat the other, both of their other hands on either of Alex’s hips.

“There will be more than ample time for that once we get her back safe, Alex,” Cat reminds her, and Alex trembles, and she slams him hard into the wall again before letting him drop unceremoniously to the ground.

“I take it you have a plan,” Cat turns to Alex bracingly, Maggie desperately blocking out any fantasies that might be tempted to spring into her mind, into her body.

“Maggie and I have the start of one, yeah. But it’s gonna involve all of us.”

Protect You (Part 1) (TJeffs x Reader)

Summary: You meet him for the first time

Warnings: None its bad tho so…. feedback is appreciated
—————————————-
“It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”
“It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion.”

The first time you met him it was at a fourth of July party at Lafayette’s house. Laf had invited everyone he knew well. Alex, John, Herc, the Schuyler sisters, and you. You didn’t know Thomas Jefferson and his friend would be coming until you arrived. A genius plan in getting your brother to come without complaint. Well until…

“Gilbert Lafayette!” You had been talking with the Frenchman when Alex let out his bellowing yell.

“Thomas has arrived.” He said and soon enough your little big brother walked into the backyard. “Mon ami excuse me will you.” He said putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Good luck.” You said and moved to the picnic tables getting everything ready for the hamburgers that Herc and John were grilling. Eliza and Angelica were in the kitchen cooking everything else. Peggy was sitting by the pool soaking up the last of the day’s rays. You smiled as you moved past your brother and Laf arguing in French. You walked in the elegant sliding glass doors and into the kitchen.

Thomas was standing next to Angelica trying to talk to her. “It must be hard with your sense of direction to find your way to a decent pick up line.” You heard the oldest Schuyler sister say and you let out a laugh. You turned to look through Laf’s cabinets to find the napkins.

“I thought it was good.” You heard him say.

“Too bad you’re not trying to pick up yourself.” Angelica said and you heard Jefferson grunt. “Take these outside and set them on the table.” You found the napkins and turned around as soon as you did you heard the clattering of plastic plates on the floor.

You looked from the ground to Jefferson’s face. “Are you okay?” You asked concerned and walked to him.

“Um uh yeah, I’m fine,” he said and you bent down to pick up the plates, “Oh it’s okay, don’t worry about that please. I can take those too.” He said and gestured to the napkins.

“Oh okay.” You said and gave him the napkins. He got new plates and hurriedly moved outside. You let a small smile form on your lips Angelica looked outside at Jefferson looking inside at you and laughed.

“Oh my god, you made Jefferson make a fool of himself. He’s going to have a headache for days.” She said and you looked at her confused.

“Don’t worry about it,” Angelica said when she saw your expression. “Eliza did you see that? That was hilarious.”

“Angelica you are awful.” You said and shook your head. You took the food that was ready and brought it out to the table that Jefferson was setting. As you were setting down the food you felt him come up to you.

“Uh I’m uh um,” did he forget his name? “I’m Jefferson, Thomas Jefferson.” He said and stuck his hand out for you to shake. You gave a small smile and shook his hand.

“I’m Hamilton, (Y/N) Hamilton.” You said and he looked very confused. He looked between you and your brother.

“Oh that’s not fair.” He blurted out and then apologize and sulked back into the kitchen. You watched him retreat and your brother stomped over angrily.

“What did he say to you?”

“He just introduced himself, calm down.”

“Thas what I’m talking ‘bout. Who ready for food?” John yelled from the grills and that got everyone outside and around the picnic table. Everything was going great until someone brought up the recent discourse on campus. The library making people pay for coffee.

Alex went on a rant on how people were stupid for doing it, Thomas chimed in on how it would encourage people to get jobs to pay for it. Then it turned into an all out yelling match that ended in you telling them to shut up.

“Jesus Christ shut up. Why do you care it’s a dollar fifty get over it. If you would get an actual sleep schedule you wouldn’t need so much. God Alex it’s not life or death.” You rolled your eyes and both of them were silent and everyone else talked. When you’d finished you put you plate up and grabbed the beers.

“(Y/N) a woman after my own heart.” John commented as he grabbed a beer. Laf grabbed one too and soon everyone was talking and laughing and drinking. James and Thomas sat on pool chairs talking in the corner. Thomas kept looking at you and you caught him a few times he seemed tense as you laughed with Herc. What you weren’t expecting was Laf to jump in the pool close to you and soak you with the splash. Which was worse than it normally would have been because of your white American flag crop top.

You took a minute to get over the shock of being soaked. “Mon ami you are soaked.” Laf said and you turned.

“You don’t say.” You said and took your crop top off and your shorts only in your red, white, and blue bikini. “I’m going to strangle you.” You were about to jump in to do just that when John jumped in grabbing your arm dragging you in. Everyone was laughing as you play fought with John and Laf in the pool. It ended in the shallow end Laf and you in a tickle fight.

“I surrender jeez I won’t strangle you.” Laf let go and laughed. He swam to the diving board with John to do tricks. “Alex come help me out.” You said to your brother.

He scoffed,”No way.”

“Why not?” You poured.

“Because we’re siblings I know you.” He said and you rolled your eyes. Thomas did the same and got up to help you. He struggled not to stare at your boobs as he leant down. You grabbed his hand and pulled down bringing into the pool with you. He popped up sputtering and looked at you. You gave him a small smile, he returned it. You were about to swim to him but everyone else started jumping in and you were distracted. He left before you could talk to him again.

“You are so done for.” Peggy said as you wrapped a towel around yourself as you all sat around a fire.

The second time you saw him you were picking up Alex from debate club. Alex prided himself on being one of the top in the debate club. You told him it made him a nerd. He said that it qualified him for everything. You just rolled your eyes.

Today must have run late. You need let yourself go in because of all the nerdiness that must go on in there. You sighed and looked at the clock. It was supposed to be out twenty minutes ago. You had rehearsals in an hour. You had a few minutes to spare. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to stay long.

When you walked in it was a mad house

“When we were on death’s door, when we were needy, we made a promise, we signed a treaty. We asked France for help and they provided. In return, they didn’t ask for land, only a promise that we’d lend a hand And stand with them
If they fought against oppressors and revolution is messy But now is the time to stand!” You shoved your way through the crowd of men and women standing in the strange looking lecture hall. One side had seats and so did the other and there was a place for people to stand around in between them. It kind of looked like a stadium.

“Stand with our brothers as they fight against tyranny. I know that Alexander Hamilton is here and he would rather not have this debate; I’ll remind you that he is not Secretary of State!” When you got to the front you saw who was debating. Your brother and his super hot nemesis.
“He knows nothing of loyalty smells like new money, dresses like fake royalty desperate to rise above his station, Everything he does betrays the ideals of our nation. Hey, and if you don’t know, now you know, Mr. President.” Jefferson finished and you knitted your eyebrows looking at Alex and then Jefferson. There was tension as the taller man let a sinister smirk cross his face. The was not the same adorable man who had dropped plates at the sight of her was it?


“Thank you, Secretary Jefferson. Secretary Hamilton, your response?” George Washington, a history professor said and looked at your brother. It was silent for a moment everyone waiting for his response. Alex always had a way with a crowd since he was young and on the streets asking for money to buy his little sister some food.

“You must be out of your goddamn mind,” everyone shouted at that and you found yourself doing it as well. “If you think the President is going to bring the nation to the brink of meddling in the middle of a military mess, a game of chess, where France is Queen and King-less.” That’s when Alex noticed you and so did Thomas. And the Alex noticed Thomas noticing you and the glare that formed on his face. Thomas’ smirk had fallen when he’d seen you. He looked awe struck and you gave him a small smile.

“We signed a treaty with a King whose head is now in a basket, would you like to take it out and ask it? Should we honor our treaty, King Louis’s head? ‘Uh, do whatever you want I’m super dead!’” And like that it was over and you were being pushed out of there by Alex. “I hate the way he was looking at you.” Alex hissed.

“What with admiration, you know some people find me admirable.” You said as you moved around your car to get into the driver’s side.

“No like he was lovesick, you can’t date. I refuse to let it happen.” Alex said as he got in.

“Yeah yeah, say whatever you like, I can do what I want.” You told him and Alex rolled his eyes.

The third time you saw him was the charm.

You were sitting outside the theater waiting for your director to get there with the keys. It was cold and you had forgotten your jacket. So you sat huddle to the inside of the middle brick column. You could see the Political science building across the street and watched the students roll in quickly.

There was one that truly caught you attention. Tall, dark, ridiculously hot, and supposedly off limits. Thomas Jefferson was walking to his class and spotted you. You blushed when he caught you looking at him. His face knitted in concern when he recognized you. He quickly jogged over his bright purple jacket looking ridiculous.

“(Y/n) what are you doing out here without a jacket?” He asked and was quickly shedding his and wrapping it around you.

“Waiting on the director to get here. I have rehearsals today.” You said and he put his hands on your face. A weird thing for people who were practically strangers. His hands were so warm though you didn’t really care.

“You never stop surprising me.” He said and you hugged out a laugh giving a sardonic smile.

“That me, I’m full of surprises.” You said and moved your cold hands to his. “I’m actually really glad you came over here, I’m a tropical flower I don’t think I could have survived.” He laughed and so did you. His jacket was so warm. So absolutely warm. After a few minutes a silent warming Jefferson cursed at his watch.

“I’m late I have to go, if your director doesn’t come in a few minutes come in the Poli. science building okay. You’re lips are blue.” He said and you nodded. He got up and started walking away.

“Wait what about your jacket?” You asked.

“Keep it.” He said turning around.

“How will I get it back to you?” He smiled and your heart fluttered. He brought out a pen and wrote seven numbers on your arm.

“That’s my number, call me or text me when you wanna give it back.”