My name is [Codename:]RogueSunshine. I'm a motorbaby and a crashqueen. My gang is The Heartbrakerboys, but I'm the one with the transer so I'll be doing the posting. I'm a zonehoppin' dustgirl with a love for life and a passion for music. I follow the Killjoys to all ends. This is my life as a Heartbrakerboy.
*kshhhhzzzrrrrttttt* H-hey… *ssshshshs* —-got my ha—- on—-mini transer *sshsssshhh* too much s—-atic here—- *bzzzzt* —-been running for months—- *bsshsh* —-still after me—- *kksssh* —-talk when it’s safe—- *ssshshshhh* —-oh shit!—- *pssssshhh* —-Shiny out! *cracklekssschhhht*
—End Transmission—
this is how i constantly feel.
why can’t everybody be content staring at the stars with me all night?
(via anaspiringauthor)
(via sunshineandstrawberries)
Well hi, what’s up, kid?
Well hey there. Good ta see more kids on these waves :)
T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the Zones
not a creature was stirring, not even the Drones.
Our rayguns were hung by our beds for the night
in the hopes that BL/ind would stay out of our sight.
The crashqueens were snuggled all up in their bases
dreaming of Christmas with smiles on their faces.
With the Dracs all away and no sign of a clap,
we all settled down for a nice restful nap.
When out on Route Guano there arose such a clatter
we rushed from our beds to see what was the matter.
We picked up our blasters from our weapons stash
and threw on our goggles, ready for a clash.
The moon on the breast of the worn desert sand
made it bright enough not to need the lantern in my hand.
When what to our wondering eyes should appear,
but a battered Trans-Am with a song ringing clear.
The red hair of the driver made me recognize the boys,
it was Party Poison, and the Fabulous Killjoys!
Faster than bullets the Trans-Am flew by,
and they shouted a greeting into the desert sky:
“All ‘joys making noise, we spread Christmas cheer,
Let’s give Better Living something to hear!
We’ve sung them our songs, put our art on their walls,
then run away, run away, run away, all!”
As debris in a desert sandstorm flies,
they passed our base shooting blasts in the sky.
And on down the Getaway Mile they flew;
our head Killjoys, blaring Mad Gear tunes.
We flashed them our colors, then went back to the shed,
hung our rayguns back up, and got back into bed,
but I whispered to my gang as they drove out of sight:
“We’ve seen another year through, so Merry Christmas tonight.”
You’re a foul one, Mr. Grinch, you’re a nasty, wasty skunk. Your heart is full of unwashed socks, your soul is full of gunk, Mr. Grinch. The three words that best describe you, are as follows, and I quote: stink, stank, stunk!
(via hotel-denouement)
(via kissmeyouanimalxo)
