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Gaucho chicken flatbread at Craft Beer Market by Ruth Hartnup

Of all the ridiculousness.

Dear nomies….


That isn’t a dress.

It’s lingere. You can see nipples clearly through it. It barely covers her crotch. She put an apron on it to cover her hoooha. But its completely see through. Again she was dressed and had make up on before and hair done. By this hair is a mess, makeup is mostly smudged off.

You can continue to believe she is more than a beard but considering everything between b/en, a/lli, and m/ia snaps, it is clear who the real relationship is.

Being in LA just a few days this time has been a real eye opener. The folks you meet and work with.

Yeah I’m going there. Because this is just absurd, I can’t even imagine how you are convincing yourself otherwise.

Again I understand. You invested in something because you were sold it and it was easier to look at the surface instead of digging a little. But this is just ridiculous. No man would be happy with his gf walking around basically naked with his “good buddy”. So which is it.. she cheat on him? Or is it that she spent time with her real man?? Or we gonna go the open relationships for them route? Cause D was up in a bar in Vancouver and there are several people that posted to prove it (I’ve actually heard some say he flew to la overnight to be there and then flew back to Vancouver. Seriously)

I mean I would think the countless pictures of Ben. With her niece and nephew would say something not to mention the sleeping arraignment but geez man…..


Yeah and I was gonna try and stay out of it. But this was just stupid. And I don’t care what slap on the wrist I get for it, it’s worth it to speak on something so freaking absurd.

Monday, 12.30pm. I’m in a bar in Vancouver called The Headless Woman. The downstairs lights are unnaturally bright, so I retreat to the cosier, darker confines of the upstairs balcony. Lots of other people seem to have had the same idea, and they’re sitting around sleeping, reading, playing cards, all looking like they’ve been here far too long. The crowd downstairs is more animated: drinking, talking, eating, doing the kind of things you usually do when you’re in a bar. Suddenly, the flame-haired woman who had been chatting to a man in khakis below jumps to her feet and pulls out a gun. “Get down!” shouts FBI Agent Dana Scully, firing off a shot. “Stay down!” And then she drops the gun limply to her side and gestures towards the panicking crowd in frustration. “Sweeties, you’re in the line of fire,” says Gillian Anderson, before sitting down wearily at her table.

A man in jeans and a pony-tail walks on to the floor. “Thanks for stopping, Gillian. That was smart,” says X-Files director Kim Manners, before turning to lecture the extras who’ve been picked out from the crowd upstairs. They’re to wait for a second gunshot before they panic, and to remember that when a gun is fired, people don’t rush towards it.

As the cameras reposition and her gun is taken away to be reloaded with blanks, Gillian sits immobile while her make-up is retouched, her hair put back into place, imaginary flecks brushed from her black coat and trouser-suit. Twenty minutes later they’re ready to go again, and Scully leaps into action once more.

Until the set breaks for lunch almost two hours later, Gillian Anderson continues to shout “Get down! Stay down! Get out of the way! Move! ” as the scene is filmed from various perspectives. Someone has been caught in the cross-fire, and it turns out to be that nice Agent Pendrell, the one in forensics who has a bit of a crush on Scully. Between takes, the actor walks around dripping blood and laughing. Gillian’s two-year-old daughter Piper runs happily around the set, supervised by her nanny and playing with the crew.

Face Magazine, May 1997

torn-and-frayed  asked:

5 with Jensen or Dean. Whichever is easier for you.

Prompt: Normal is subjective, but I can’t say I see this everyday.

When you walked through the door of your favorite bar in Vancouver, the last thing you expected to see was an all out food fight in one corner of the establishment.

“Just a normal day at work, huh Todd?” you teased the bartender. “I’ll have my usual.”

Todd, like you, was doing his best to stay out of the fuss. While he whipped up your drink, he shrugged. “Normal is subjective, but I can’t say I see this everyday.”

Before too long, the food fight turned into an actual brawl. You moved down a few barstools when the cops showed up, anxious to stay out of the fray.

Until you saw a very familiar, albeit beat up, face among those being taken in. With a degree of slack in your jaw, you marched over to where he was sitting on the floor, hands cuffed behind his back.

“Jensen Ackles!” you exclaimed, fists on your hips. “What the hell?”

“Uh, hey babe, didn’t see you come in,” he said, wincing at your obviously angry disposition. “The other guys started it! I was just trying to back up Jared.”

You turned to see Jared sitting next to Jensen, with an inappropriately proud smile. “Sorry, Y/N/N.”

“You two are gonna be the death of me, I swear,” you sighed.

“Ma'am, do you know these two?”

“I do,” you replied, somewhat reluctantly. “This is my boyfriend and his giant of an ass best friend.”

The police officer nodded. “If you’d like, I can release them into your care. Only if you take them right out of here.”

You pursed your lips, considering your option. Take these two big babies home to deal with, or finish out your relaxing evening? It really wasn’t much of a question.

“They’re all yours, Officer.” The boys started to protest, but one scowl from you shushed them. “I’ll be in to bail you out AFTER I have my drinks.”

You kissed Jensen quickly, patted Jared on the head, and went back to your spot at the bar.