DEAR READER
Cosmic Funnies
Claire Keane
Mike Driver
we're not kids anymore.
⁂
Game of Thrones Daily
taylor price
YOU ARE THE REASON
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Discoholic 🪩
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Not today Justin
pixel skylines
AnasAbdin
No title available
shark vs the universe
JVL
No title available
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Canada
seen from Canada
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Canada
seen from T1
@angsty-inspiration
concept
a beaded curtain, but instead of beads they’re worms on strings
you know… these guys
Hi op I hope this satisfies your needs.
Needs more worms
I wanna make one of these that is like a literal curtain of worms
No clear strings available to get caught and tangle, I want them nose to ass like some kind of horrible human centipede of worms, covering my doorway
@fanotastic more worms
Aw fuck. Nothing makes you assholes happy.
Fuck you guys.
My fellow fuckers, I present you-
384
Do y’all want to hear a secret story I’ve never told anyone?
(ok here goes. its funny i promise)
At the time this story took place, I was like 6 years old. Growing up, I was a very mature child because I was never around other kids my age. My mom used to work a lot, so that left me with my dad but my dad was high off his ass (weed smoker) all the time, so he’d be passed out. My siblings were all in their late teens and with friends, so when I got home it was just me by myself. Everyday
And I had no other way to entertain myself than by watching TV. I watched everything, but my favorite was the after dark shows that came on HBO and stuff. The down side of watching those things was that I learned about things that was way ahead of my time with no adult supervision.
Well, one day when I came home from school I was watching TV (dad was alseep again and I was alone) and I saw one of those little flity phone companies. They were like sex operators or whatever, but at that time, my naive ass just thought that it was to find best friends. Like penpals and stuff, so one day I got the house phone and dialed the number.
The first thing that popped up was this super seductive voice but my dumb ass just assumed the person was sick (lmfao) and it said “For a man, press one. For a woman, press two.”
So I was thinking “Boys are gross, I need a best friend that’s a girl.” So I pressed two.
It rang a couple times until this lady answered the phone and I remember her saying “Hey, my name is Cynthia. What’s your name?”
So I was like ‘shit I gotta come up with something cool to tell my bestie’ “What’s up, Cynthia.”
And immediately, she got super quiet before she asked me “Um…whom am I speaking to?”
“The name is Delilah, but all my friends call me D.” (I remember I was coloring in my Lisa Frank diary when I said it too omg)
And Cynthia got quiet again before speaking. “Uh, how old are you?”
“I’m six and a half.” *scribbles in diary harder* “What about you?”
So she got super quiet again and was like “Uh…sweetie, where is your mother?”
“My mom’s at her job. Something my dad can’t seem to get.” *takes a sip from juicebox*
And I could hear her let out a stiffled laugh from the other line before clearing her throat. “Well, where is your father?”
“My dad smoked too much weed again and he passed out. Again.”
This time, she let out a louder laugh and I was like ‘heck yeah I made a friend. Check mate.’
So Cynthia askes me another question. “You’re not old enough to be on here, honey. I think you should hang up.”
So I got really pressed and kinda got sassy with her and busted out a line I had seen used in the movie Clueless. “Listen Cynthia, I’m a young, independent woman that don’t need no man. I need a friend, okay? It said you’d be nice to me on the TV.”
At this point I could hear her laughing really loud and before I could finish, she stopped me. “C-Can you hold on one second, honey? I’ll be right back. Stay right where you are.”
I was like “Okay.” And in the mean time, I made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and got some juice to get comfy while I waited. She finally came back like five minutes later and asked me if I was still there. I told her I was and this time, I could hear my voice echo a bit, meaning I was on speaker obivously.
“How old are you again?” She asked.
“I’m six and a half, don’t forget it, girlfriend!” *sassily snaps my fingers and takes a sip from juice*
This time, i could hear people laughing and saying ‘oh my god’ and shit like that in the background, so I asked her who it was. She told me they were her buddies and I remember saying something like “It’s always good to have ya homeis with you, right?’ and everyone laughed again.
Then they started asking me all kinds of shit too.
“Where do you live?”
“In a house, duh.”
“What school do you go to?”
“Why? So you can kidnap me? No thanks, girl.”
“How did you even get this number?”
“The TV, duh.”
Now after a while the group of people buzzed off and it was just me and Cynthia on the phone. We had a cool conversation about Lisa Frank books and I learned that she lived in Seattle with her boyfriend and that she had a little girl a couple years older than me.
At one point, I told her about the boys in my school that were bullying me and that I didn’t think I was very pretty. And you know what? She gave me some advice that I never forgot, even til this very day I still remembered it. She told me,
“Sometimes people will be mean to you for no reason and they won’t like you, but all that matters is if you like you. If you like yourself, that’s all that matters.”
Now at one point, nine o’clock rolled around and it was my bedtime, so I sadly told Cynthia “Okay, bestie. Its my bed time. I don’t wanna miss out on my beauty sleep.” and after exchanging goodbyes, we hung up.
So yeah, that’s my experience with the chatlines. Sometimes I think about Cynthia and wonder what happened to her in life. Is she still with her boyfriend? How is her daughter? I’ll never know.
I never told anyone this until now because its too good not to share lmfao. Adult supervision is important!
This is an adorable story lol
This is the most accurate description I’ve ever found, thought it was worth spreading ❀
full klance anastasia au comic from my instagram! 💕✨
Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.
Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.
“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”
The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.
“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”
“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”
The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”
Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”
“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”
Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.
“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”
“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?”
The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.
A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer.
“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”
“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”
“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”
The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.
And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.
Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.
“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”
“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”
“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.
“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”
“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”
And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.
Sora found the temple with the bones within it, the roof falling in upon them.
“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.
“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”
Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.
“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”
“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.
“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”
Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.
“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.
“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.
“What?” the god asked.
Sora carefully lifted the skull onto the cloth. “You are the god of Arepo.”
Generations passed. The village recovered from its tragedies—homes rebuilt, gardens re-planted, wounds healed. The old man who once lived on the hill and spoke to stone and rubble had long since been forgotten, but the temple stood in his name. Most believed it to be empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow.
The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.
He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.
So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.
“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.
The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.
“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.
“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”
“No,” Arepo smiled.
“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”
“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.
“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.
“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”
The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”
“I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. And you are the god of Arepo.”
so many gifs of ostriches doing their mating dance for humans but did u know
they actually did a study on this
and ostriches repeatedly found humans more attractive than other ostriches
yes
ostrich farmers have trouble setting up their ostriches with each other because they’re just not interested, they want their farmers instead
it’s incredible
also, ostriches show notable sexual preference
some male ostriches will only display for male humans, some will display for anybody, some will display for female humans only
I can’t believe ostriches are reverse furries
great we gotta kinkshame the fuckin birds now
look I know this is sappy and cheesy but u know when a character loses control of their power or they’re possessed or w/e and their s/o shouts their name running towards them and then they stop their rampage and let their s/o hug them,, like that’s good shit
you. you get it.
So, let me guess– you just started a new book, right? And you’re stumped. You have no idea how much an AK47 goes for nowadays. I get ya, cousin. Tough world we live in. A writer’s gotta know, but them NSA hounds are after ya 24/7. I know, cousin, I know. If there was only a way to find out all of this rather edgy information without getting yourself in trouble…
You’re in luck, cousin. I have just the thing for ya.
It’s called Havocscope. It’s got information and prices for all sorts of edgy information. Ever wondered how much cocaine costs by the gram, or how much a kidney sells for, or (worst of all) how much it costs to hire an assassin?
I got your back, cousin. Just head over to Havocscope.
((PS: In case you’re wondering, Havocscope is a database full of information regarding the criminal underworld. The information you will find there has been taken from newspapers and police reports. It’s perfectly legal, no need to worry about the NSA hounds, cousin ;p))
Want more writerly content? Follow maxkirin.tumblr.com!
Assassins
“Below are selected prices that are paid to professional assassins by criminal organizations and drug cartels for a contract hit.
In Australia, the median price to hire a hit man is $13,610 (9,800 Euros), with the price going up to $83,000 (60,000 Euros) based on the task.
In Mexico, the cost for a low level assassin is $208 (150 Euros), and up to $20,832 (15,000 Euros) for a higher profile target like a police chief.
The prices paid in Argentina are between $3,749 (2,700 Euros) to $5,555 (4,000 Euros) per hit.
Government statistics in Spain state that 40 assassinations take place each year, with prices for the hit ranging between $27 (20 Euros) to $69,000 (50,000 Euros).”
So cheap! I always thought things like this would cost more than $1 million…
This is super useful to know!
and not just for writing!!
@katherine-rose
HOLY FUCK
HOW MANY HOURS HAVE I WASTED TRYING TO FIND HEROIN PRICES ON THE INTERNET WHAT A GREAT DATABASE
Shance (Blind!Shiro AU)
Imagine Lance describing what he looks like by:
Saying that he has freckles and he maps them out on Shiro’s face so he knows where they are on him (of course he has plenty more freckles all over his body, but Shiro will discover them later) *winks*
He lets Shiro’s hands roam over his facial features:
(plump lips, long eyelashes, round nose, thin eyebrows but with a very nice shape)
Shiro’s touch lingers over Lance’s lips and chin, but Lance tries to ignore the fact that his cheeks are heating up, feeling thankful that Shiro can’t see him at that moment but Shiro can feel the heat and he tells Lance to relax because he simply wants to “memorize” him, so Lance stays perfectly still
Shiro’s hands run through Lance’s curls, absolutely enjoying the feeling of them underneath his fingertips–so luscious and soft
His fingers then move to feel Lance’s big, round ears, gently rubbing the back of them and Lance tries to keep from laughing because it tickles. His face is as red as a tomato, but he remains still again
When they become intimate with each other
1. Lance’s Scar
Shiro’s fingers brush over Lance’s burnt back lightly, feeling the damage that was once beautiful, smooth skin, but…
that certainly doesn’t stop Shiro from kissing it
Lance: “Heh. Good thing you can’t see this right now. It’s not exactly the most attractive back in the world.”
Shiro: “And yet you are constantly calling me ‘the most beautiful man in the whole universe’ even though I have this blemish over the bridge of my nose.”
Lance: “Well—I-I mean—”
Shiro: “Lance, I may be blind, but I can see just how beautiful you are.”
Lance: “Sure… on the inside.”
Shiro: “And on the outside too, Lance. You’re perfect.”
2. Making Love (NSFW)
TOUCH AND SOUND IS EVERYTHING!!!
Every sound and/or movement Lance makes indicates whether he’s in pain or pleasure:
In the beginning, Shiro could tell that Lance was worried with the way he was breathing heavily
And whenever Lance flinched under Shiro’s touch, he stopped immediately
But once they are carefully prepped, Lance gives Shiro the confidence and control:
Lance’s moans growing louder and louder and his incessant begging is music to Shiro’s ears
He listens carefully to Lance’s whimpers, choked sobs and sudden gasps, learning what he likes and what he doesn’t
He feels Lance’s arms and legs wrap around his body tightly, clinging onto him desperately
Shiro relishes in the way Lance’s nails and teeth dig into his skin from the overwhelming pleasure, just begging for more
Shiro intertwines their fingers together tightly, and even grips his wrists when he’s feeling more rough, but maybe next time.
For now, they take it nice and slow (it’s an amazing first time with Lance)
Shiro imagines Lance’s face—eyebrows pinched together as his eyes are slammed shut, mouth slightly parted as he lets out another moan
Lance: “I wish you could see me, Shiro.”
Shiro: “I can see you, Lance.”
And to add a little humor (as they strip from their clothes, this happens):
Lance: *sees Shiro’s cock for the first time* “WHOA! WHAT ARE YOU, LIKE 9 INCHES???”
Shiro: “Um… I don’t know, actually. Am I that big???”
I’ve been studying the classic black tie dress code (mainly from here) so I thought I could share my notes. Maybe they can be helpful to someone else, too. If I made any mistakes or things are really confusing please tell me. I also have some notes on white tie which I could share as well…
tired: fallen angels grieving about getting kicked out of heaven
inspired: fallen angels making memeing to cope
IM GONNA CRY!!!!!
please look at this….it’s going to change your life
for those nervous about clicking the link - it’s a bongo cat that you can control to play music!
Omg this is so amazing! Its so cute and it has 3 different instruments (excluding cymbal) and its meow is so cute??? I’m McCrying
where’s that quiz where you choose lke 4 colours u like and 4 u dont and it hands your ass on a plate
thank you @cumleaf @@ http://www.astro.com/cgi/atxgen.cgi?btyp=cf
This hurt my feelings
admittedly I don’t normally like modern shakespeare adaptations but once I went to see my cousin in a midsummer night’s dream and it opened with a high schooler saying “I don’t wanna read this play” so he sits down and eats an entire chipotle burrito on stage and then immediately falls asleep and the play begins but instead of the forest the faeries all hang out in a rainforest cafe TM and at one point in the middle of a scene the guy from the beginning just slowly drifts across the back of the stage on a skateboard, staring at all the characters as the events of the play transpire in the form of some sort of chipotle-induced coma lucid dream
THAT is EXACTLY what Shakespeare would have wanted
I swear if this isn’t floating around on the internet I’m gonna cry
Oh buddy IT’S ABOUT TO BE. I am like, 98% sure this was my high school’s production and I’ve got photos and video clips like craaaazy…
Here are some fun additions… the Mechanicals were also based on the characters of The Breakfast Club (here I am below, eating an actual Captain Crunch and Pixie Stix sandwich on stage.)
…and the one on the longboard was actually our Puck - he rode it through the whole play in the background. Please note his “Forest Cafe” shirt… which we also had logos for on the cups.
…and we had both a flash mob at the end AND an interlude where myself and one of the other Fairies danced to “Sexy and I Know It” while we were cleaning up the tables at the cafe.
I will post more of this later. I have a DVD at my house and will endure cringing at myself to bring you some quality clips… there’s probably one of K eating the burrito before the start of the play, too.
@hullaballoons Here is more Ktown Lore for you
@cupcakelirry
Here ya go kids… all 2h20m. if you make it through the whole thing once, that’s probably more times than any of the cast watched this DVD. You can probably see why. Tbh if you watch this, I am sorry in advance.
Important notes:
- Chipotle burrito makes a cameo about 30 min in,
- the end has a flash mob and a “commercial” for the Forest Cafe,
- unfortunately, the lunch scene where all the mechanicals whistle like the Breakfast Club got mostly cut for some reason?
–
@vampireapologist in case you have any interest in reliving this… at the very least you can prove to any doubters that there was, in fact, a Chipotle burrito onstage.
I cannot even fully conceptualize, much less put into words, how wild this chain of events has been.
I have dozens of posts going around that have broken 50,000 notes, and plenty that have broken 100,000.
On every single one of these posts, there are hundreds, if not thousands, of comments and tags calling me a liar and the story fake, but none so much as this post.
This post was my most doubted of all.
And you came in………
with a Two and a Half Hour Long video.
I’ll never forget this.
We have a bond forged in fire and spirit now.
Beethoven — Fur Chiken
#this is the first time for me where i can DEFINITELY identify my last 2 brain cells in a tumblr post (via legionofpotatoes)
Moss Graffiti: A How To Guide
are you fucking for real
Imagine being the criminal who returns weekly to make sure his fucking plant art is doing alright
Later
Hey, I know a piece of concrete that could use some good vandalism.
If there was a zombie apocalypse the best place to go would be Target.
Lets look at the facts:
Targets have at maximum 3 windows. And those windows are also doors. Otherwise they are giant concrete cinder-blocks of prison like retail.
Target is filled with things to quickly barricade those window-doors. such as entire gazebos, lawn furniture, exercise equipment, etc.
From that point forward all you have to do is worry about the zombies that are inside.
Target has an intercom system, which if accessed by the correct people can be used to quickly spread information and mobilize people to get things done.
Target has a large section of both perishable and non perishable food items.
Target also has a vast entertainment section. (how many societies have collapsed due to conflict spurred by stress and boredom. HOW MANY)
Target’s roof can be easily accessed for surveillance, gathering of rainwater (with the many buckets and mini pools target has. and all water can be boiled in the Starbucks kitchen) and sniping.
Target’s insulation would make the harsh winter months significantly more bearable.
Before the power goes out, Target has sun lights (which is why its not sad inside like in so many other stores… cough Sears cough) so people who have SAD won’t get depressed. Also, Target is large and designed to feel homey so people wont go stir crazy as fast like they do in jails.
When the power goes out, Target has large industrial generators that can be turned on in emergencies like for cooking.
Speaking of cooking, Target has several kitchens inside of it. And once the power goes, guess what Target also sells? Grills.
Target also has a pharmacy. And medical supplies. So, people inside who need meds to function have a hell of a lot longer time to live unencumbered by their illness than they normally would.
Some targets have tools–including power tools.
Target also has a tiny jail. For miscreants and rabble rousers.
Bedding. Real Bedding
Reliable indoor plumbing.
I think you could reasonably live for at least two years inside a Target before completely running out of anything vital– provided food is well rationed. And even so, the only thing you’d be sending out scouts for is food. Everything else would last for ages.
Provided that the population not exceed 200, Target would run out of these things in this order:
perishable food.
electricity
Potable water (that doesn’t require work)
Non perishable pre-made food items
Non perishable food ingredients (flour, mixes, etc) How to survive in a Target: Action plan. Undoubtedly, everyone will be rushing and screaming in the Target. First someone has to break into the manager’s office and commandeer the intercom to create some organization by shouting: If you do not want to stay and survive in the Target, leave now. After that’s cleared up and only interested parties and zombies are left. the barricading can begin. Once the doors and windows are sealed, the new goal is to clear the undead from the usable space.The undead can be deposited neatly outside of the truck loading dock doors. Then, someone needs to do inventory. For the next week or so, food needs to be arranged by date consumed and a rationing chart should be made. Same applies to medicine and medical supplies and toiletries. After food and water has been qualified and quantified, remaining time should be dedicated to turning target into a large “home”, Bedding should be laid out in one area, there should be an entertainment area. There should be a separate area for children and babies. All of the clothing should be pushed to the side or placed in the storage area, so there is more livable space. I’m sure people have more ideas but that’s all I’ve got.
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