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painting-service · 1 year
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Understanding of the Materials Used for Road Markings
The best line striping paint has been in use for a long time. This aids in upholding traffic laws. On roads, this paint has been applied to prevent any hazards.
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Also Read: Why Eco-Friendly Paints Are the Best Choice for Your Home
Road markers have always been extremely important. Using road markings, drivers and pedestrians can communicate. Road markings include paving, parking spaces, airfields, and other areas. Do you know what kind of paint is used to indicate roads? Don't overthink it; simply get to the point.
The Use of Road Marking Paints is Fantastic
Road markings come in a variety of forms depending on the nation, area, city, etc. Each professional painter be it, a parking lot, interior, or exterior house painter near me must have a handsome experience in the domain. The supplies and colors used for this aim are thought to be crucial, so painters should select that accordingly.
Each person's safety is dependent on the application of the best line striping paint. These paints ought to have a smooth texture and be visible at night. So, let's examine some things without making any assumptions.
Thermoplastic Road Paints
Regarding reflectiveness, these paints are fairly respectable. The usage of thermoplastic paints is especially popular on recently paved roads. The best commercial painters Fremont suggests these paints.
This paint initially has a solid state; however, heating processes cause it to become liquid. These paints have consistently proven to be the best, even in unfavorable weather circumstances.
Latex Paints
Since latex paint dries quickly, it is made specifically for roadways. After application, drying takes between one and two minutes to complete. This paint also has amazing endurance. The best line striping paint professionals are knowledgeable about these paints.
You May Also Like: The Highly Premium Qualities of a Magnificent Painter
Acetone Paints
These paints are much healthier due to their low amount of volatile organic compounds. The commercial painters Fremont professionals add glass beads to the paints to make them more visible. These paints' longevity makes them ideal for marking roads, parking lots, airports, etc.
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The Conclusion
The bottom line says that road marking is essential for creating excellent visibility on the roads. Both drivers and pedestrians can use road marking paints because they are reliable and efficient.
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idroolinmysleep · 1 year
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Fifty Shades of Yellow
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From the realm of things you never gave a second thought to because they’re all supposed to be the same, I just learned that the center stripes on roads are actually painted in a different shade of yellow for every state. You’d think that something as safety-critical as road markings ought to be standardized so that people don’t get confused upon crossing state lines, and … well, there is a standard, but it has enough latitude to allow each state to choose their own special tint. Why? Because America, that’s why. Freedom!
Read on for color nerdery (and very possibly talking out of my ass, because color is hard).
Anyway, the color is 33538 from FED-STD-595, where it’s defined with a set of coordinate values in the CIE 1931 (a.k.a. CIE XYZ) color space. More than just a federal standard, this color is also subject to international agreements, so it’s sometimes called “international traffic yellow.”
Seems pretty straightforward, right? The Feds tell you the color, you go use the color. But here’s the problem: FED-STD-595 only defines the color, not the medium with which it will be applied in the real world. For that, there are paint specifications. Of the three I’ve found (TT-P-15, TT-P-1952, and A-A-2886, though there are probably more), each allows a deviation of up to 6.0 units ΔE (Delta E) from FED-STD-595.
Del-whaa??? Oh, back up, let me explain. ΔE is a way to quantify color differences, and it’s measured on a scale from 0 (exact same color) to 100 (exact opposite colors). A ΔE of 1 or less means the color difference is considered imperceptible to the human eye. Values between 2 and 10 mean the colors are close, but perceptibly different (side-by-side, is my guess).
Without getting too far into the weeds, I’ll also mention that ΔE is measured in the CIELAB color space, not CIE XYZ. CIELAB is derived from CIE XYZ, but it’s easier to interpret. Values can be converted directly between CIE XYZ and CIELAB, so it’s a useful space to work in.
While ΔE quantifies color differences, it doesn’t indicate the direction of that difference. So if my interpretation is correct, this means the paint standards allow a total variance of 12 units ΔE, centered on 33538 yellow. That leaves a lot of room for each state to pick its own favorite shade and still fall within the guidelines.
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mymreaderlibrary · 4 months
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Maybe it's just cause I'm replaying Dying Light but with Cod zombies being a thing I'm thinking about the TF141 in an apocalypse type scenario. Just a blurb idk if I’ll do anything with this.
Gonna lean heavily into the story of Dying Light here because I love it. Note that mc/ reader takes a combined role of Bracken, Jade, and Kyle C. That being said there is no Bracken, Jade, or Kyle in this universe and Rahim is reader’s younger brother.
[TF141 x male reader, no relationship (yet), zombies, death and gore, ramblings/ lore skimming]
[Length: 1,480 words]
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The 141 are given a private mission to infiltrate the city of Harran and hunt down a terrorist residing in the area. He's stolen highly sensitive documents and is threatening to have them released through an informant if something happens to him. A standard deal where the task force is concerned however Harran itself is the dangerous part of the mission.
A disease has ravaged the city, being the first documented case of what is now known as the Harran Virus. It is a strain of rabies that zombifies any of those infected, making them instinctively hunt down other warm blooded creatures to spread. The city has been completely quarantined and the virus has not gotten outside of it yet, but this also makes the area a cesspool, concentrated with death and disease. Reports say there are no living (or at least non infected) residents remaining aside from the terrorist group which have holed themselves in an unknown location. Because of this a strike has been permitted to raze Harran in hopes of destroying the virus or at the least any violent infected. A counteractive medicine is in development with its prototype being given to the task force in case of emergency, however there is no solid solution beyond massacring infected. It's not pretty work but the world can't risk this disease breaking out.
The 141 are given specialized equipment, thick gear, loads of medical equipment, and a collection of high end firearms. The team are air dropped into the lower city and instructed to start their search immediately.
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The sun is already beginning to set by the time they land. It would almost be pretty if it weren’t for all the viscera in the streets creating a sour rotten stench. Both Gaz and Soap wretch but do their best to push through, keeping their eyes peeled for any signs of life. It doesn’t take long for them to find hostiles except to their surprise it’s not infected. Instead a group of well armed thugs attempt to corner them. They’re all carrying machetes and nail bats, some with masks while others have paint creating three jagged stripes across their face. Ghost notes their lack of firearms as odd but chalks it up to lacking proper equipment (even if their body armor told otherwise).
Regardless it goes about as well as you expect for the thugs against such well trained soldiers, however hell breaks loose when Soap decides to fire his pistol. A banshee like scream is heard from across the street and their attackers scatter without hesitation, even leaving behind their wounded. Quickly a horde of infected begin rushing towards the task force, mouths gaped wide and moaning. The zombies they were told of were slow and bumbling but these were ravenous. They ran, yelled wildly, clawed at the 141 with a fervor, and with each shot of the team's firearms another horde would soon follow. It was clear they were overwhelmed and the fear that the mission was over before it even began quickly hit. A pained hiss sounded from Ghost as a zombie managed to pull off his glove and bite into the calloused flesh of his hand. Another slammed Gaz onto the pavement and began chewing into his shoulder. Price and Soap just barely threw off their friend's attackers but the assault only continued.
As another infected went to claw at Price's face the zombie's head flew clean off. The corpse flopped down to the side, convulsing wildly, but unable to keep attacking. A group of young men and women, wearing uniforms unlike the thugs from before, began dragging the team out from the horde. They threw firecrackers over their shoulders and onto the street, catching the infected's focus and separating their numbers. A man in particular seemed to be leading the 141's saviors, giving quiet orders through hand signals to his comrades.
They got a solid distance before the same man began looking them over for injuries in a building. The lowered visibility from the growing dark made it difficult but not impossible. Gaz and Ghost were the only ones bitten meanwhile Soap and Price were scraped from their scuffle with the thugs. Despite the bites being small they bled heavily and the two men had already broken out into sweats. Shaking violently Gaz’s legs buckled and he began to cry out in pain. Ghost faired no better his eyes looking dazed and unfocused as he could only hiss out panicked breaths. Gaz's pain seemed to recapture the attention of the infected outside as banging began on the door of their refuge. A young woman went to barricade the entry but the vicious sound persisted. A fist broke through the wood and scratched at the woman's eye but she didn't falter, using her back to block the entry.
In the commotion Price recalled the prototype medicine he had been given by their contractor and quickly pulled out two small syringes. Their rescuers gave them an odd look before the leader snatched it out of his hands and injected both men without question. It took a moment for the medicine to take effect but the pair began to go lax, heartbeats slowing to a normal pace. However they were still too weak to stand and the door was beginning to buckle. The woman barricading it was grabbed and dragged out into the dark street by the vicious creatures. The rescue leader tried to pull her out but it was too late.
With a pained look in his eye the leader commanded the remaining men and women to take the 141 back to "The Tower" while he distracted the zombies away from them. He left no room for argument and they were whisked away quickly from the regrowing horde. The now nearly black streets greeting them as they ran, carrying their fallen comrades.
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The journey to this tower, which turned out to be an apartment complex covered in UV lights, took a lot of climbing but eventually they were welcomed through the front gates. Or well, welcomed was an overstatement, it was more like begrudgingly let through after some convincing from their rescuers. The guards at the door glared at the men and Price could hear them scoffing about their missing leader and how “Rahim is gonna be pissed”. Seems that man wasn't just a leader to those runners but to this tower as a whole. And well if that wasn't a way to instantly ruin your reputation.
They were transferred to the medical ward where Gaz and Ghost stayed, far too out of it to get out of their cots. It was honestly quiet odd seeing the two laying dazed and pale. While the medicine seemed to have some sort of effect, there was no saying for how long. It was still only a prototype.
Soap and Price on the other hand could leave after getting bandaged, only suffering superficial wounds. They were instructed to rest, guided to some rooms a floor below where they saw several civilian types. Men, women, children... a mother in the corner cradling her crying baby trying to convince him to go back to sleep. A father sitting beside his two daughters resting on a cot covered by a thin sheet. A teen boy sitting alone, curled up on a chair shaking. Life. Something they were told didn't exist down here outside of terrorists.
One day on and the mission was already a mess, two soldiers down, emergency meds already in use, a whole community of civilians discovered, a possible ally MIA, and they had not an ounce of info to show for it. Sleeping after that just didn't feel right but the two men supposed there was nothing they could do as the tower was locked until morning. If the screams and yowls of dead were anything to go off of, it sounded like the infected were more active in the night. Who knew if this tower’s leader was even alive out there amongst the savage undead.
It took what felt like a year for the sun to rise again but just as daylight cusped the window Price could hear commotion downstairs. Cheers, shouts, panicked calls for a medic. As him and Soap peered onto the floor above they spotted that same leader from before now being dragged in to the medical ward from the stairs. Blood trailed behind him, his arms littered with cuts, bruises, and bites, but he was conscious and attempting to walk. A thick stream of red pooled from his temple down his chin and for a split second his gaze caught Price. His eyes were near unreadable, murky like Ghost's but still alert enough to be aware of what was going on. He seemed almost satisfied seeing the captain alive and well but quickly was taken away to be bandaged.
This mission was already hell.
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dsgirl2024 · 2 months
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The World You See | Prologue | Hoseok | BTS OT7 x Reader Fanfiction
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CONTENT WARNING
This story has explicit descriptions of death, drug use, alcohol use, addiction, sex, language, mental illness, suicide, and other possibly triggering content.
If this will effect your well being in ANY WAY, PLEASE DO NOT READ!
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ABOUT
Genre ☆ Fantasy / Romance (Fanfiction)
Rating ☆ Mature (18+ Minors DNI)
Pairing ☆ BTS OT7 x Reader
Story Type ☆ Angel BTS (AU)
SUMMARY
You've always seen the world a bit differently than others. It was like your magic power. And maybe that was why only you could see the lights that night. The big, astronomical explosion of lights that rained down to earth in colors you had never known to have existed until now. Little did you know about a divine destiny beyond your wildest dreams, and seven angelic beings brought down from heaven to guide you.
Apparently, the world is ending, and they're convinced that you're the one to save it. All you have to do, is figure out how.
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Seoul was extraordinarily cold for an early-spring night. 
A bitter sort of chill, one that called for sweaters, hats and for some, a warm coat. The perfect type of night to stay in doors, safe and cozy, curling up on the couch with a steaming cup of tea. A great book in hand, or perhaps a Netflix session to start off a weekend binge.
At least, that appealed to some people.
For others, it was never too cold to live it up--throw on a cute fit and assemble the squad. No matter how low the temperature dropped, the active city at no time neglected a vibrant nightlife. Neon lights illuminated the ground, bleeding saturated colors, and the black pavement glittered as club-goers and bar-hoppers bustled from place to place.
Just as those whom braved the weather, stilettos clacking and hair done-up, someone else had been promised a good time that night.
The time of his life.
One of grandeur and refinement, at the top of the classiest hotel. Where old money mingled with new money, striking deals as they utilized charisma like a weapon--guns loaded, waiting for the right moment to strike. Not ever really enjoying the company of each other, though feigning pleasantries for the sake of the game. The salacious game of shameless business, be it for power, money or love.
And tonight, many had gathered to play. Dressed in the finest attire, their sparkling bodies circled and flirted, sipping on champagne with painted lips and fake smiles. Dazzling, beautiful people, fat with riches, Botox and high societal respect. The creme-de-la-creme.
How ignorant they were.
How oblivious.
Such egocentric, vapid humans, so self involved that they'd hardly noticed the absence of the man whom they came for in the first place.
This was his night. His party. Recognition for all the sweat and tears he'd spilled vying for a spot within their good graces. Validation, that his professional enslavement was all gearing for a brighter future. Oh, the butts he kissed, the demands he dealt with.
The sacrifices he made.
He should be drunk as fuck, enjoying the food, befriending the one percent, charming some women and busting out his sick dance moves. His time had come.He'd finally made it.
So why?
Why, instead, did Jung Hoseok find the tops of his leather-shoed feet dangled off the hotel roof,  dangerously toying with a fatal descent? 
More importantly, why did he look so...
broken?
Tears streaming, wet and snotty, the tall, elegant man appeared as if the seams to his existence had torn apart. Like his insides were barely contained, spilling from all sides, as he clutched his rib cage desperately. Sniffing, chocking down sobs.
The icy winds whipped violently, staining his skin with raw, pink stripes and the coattails of his black Armani tux flapped like flags at mast.
'Ding' A chime alerted from his suit pocket.
Hoseok's weight teetered unsteadily, grimacing, the sound clearly distraught him. "You've won!" He thought, "Just leave me alone!"
'Ding, ding' It chimed again. Determined.
Hoseok swallowed thickly.
Fishing around in his tux, the man pulled out his phone and looked down at the Kakao Talk ID that popped up on the screen. JustYourPrince had sent him a new attachment. His heart dropped, anxious as he opened it, eyes swiping the image with speed. A strangled groan ripped from his throat.
It was a picture of a blind-folded woman. She was tied up and gagged with a gun pointed at her temple. Her long, black locks abnormally messed, and it had been clear by her bloodied lip that she'd put up a fight. Tears of recognition welled in Hoseok's eyes.
'Tick, tock.' The message below spelled out.
An anguished look distorted delicate features, as Hoseok threw his head to the sky, searching for a sign, praying that God had a sick sense of humor. This wasn't really happening. This couldn't actually be happening.
Not to him.
Not to her.
'Ding'
'Ding'
'Ding'
"I can't take it anymore! Ok? I'll do it! I'll do it, I said! So please, just stop!"
The man didn't want to jump.
He had to jump.
That is to say, there didn't seem to be an alternative option. If Hoseok didn't do what they'd asked, she was going to pay the price for it.
'Friday at midnight. If you don't do it by then, she'll suffer the consequences of your actions, Mr. Jung.' That's what they told him.
It was Friday.
Time was running out.
Looking down, the man's stomach lurched. Woozy from the vertigo, he blinked through the blur, palms sweaty, nails digging, as he gauged the height of the drop. Must be at least twenty stories. The hundreds of bodies below resembled dots amidst the glow of building lights. For a moment, he envied those dots. So insignificant--free to exist in peace, camouflaged by the vastness of society.
'Dong--' 'Dong--'  rang the clock-tower bells a few blocks over, a final countdown initiating.
11:59 p.m.
A singular tear dripped off his nose and fell to the streets below. Hoseok sucked in a breath as he watched it vanish from sight, holding in air then relinquishing it all at once. Trembling.
Anticipating.
Wondering, how everything spun so far out of control? It wasn't supposed to be like this. The man's life was in mere adolescence, opportunities just started knocking at his door. He'd worked so hard fortoo long, only to at last receive his reward--and now that reward was being snatched from his grasp. Cruelly. Evilly. The sweet taste of success, drowned by the bitterness of his misfortune.
It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair at all, but Hoseok couldn't let her suffer. Not for something that was his responsibility in the first place. He refused to allow another person he loved foot his bill, because the last time, it had ended badly.  No one was meant to get hurt, but a dangerous game had been played--against an even more formidable foe. One whom he'd sorely miscalculated, and that had been his first grave mistake.
'Dong--'
His second was his naivety.
'Dong--'
His third was his negligence.
'Dong--'
Maybe this was karma--
'Dong--'
--reaping what he sowed.
'Dong--'
As the last bell tolled, Hoseok shut his eyes tight, collecting his wits. Carefully, he turned his back from the ledge, unwilling to witness full force his death to the ground beneath. He'd rather face the sky, instead. That way, he'd be less afraid. 
The wind shoved at his chest, demanding and hostile, as if it'd grown impatient, reminding the man of the urgency.
'At midnight.' It whispered.'Tick, tok.'
Hoseok told the wind to kindly, fuck off.
Let him go on his own terms.
Let him go with dignity.
Composed.
Mind clear.
Deep breath.
And then he went, tipping himself over the ledge. 
Air rushed his descending person, as gravity dragged him down. Faster and faster, the feeling unlike any he'd experienced before. Adrenaline juiced through his veins like a drug, blood pumping at a frightening speed. It was almost... exciting--fun even, if not for the end Hoseok knew awaited him.
Soon, he would be nothing more than a splattered lump on concrete. An eyesore for pedestrians, and a burden for the poor soul tasked with scrapping his guts off the sidewalk. It'd be quick, though, he was thankful for that.
At least this way, he could free himself.
Free them both.
The thought brought him some comfort.
Then, out of nowhere, a blinding light intrigued Hoseok's eyes to open. He gasped, enthralled by what he saw. Beautiful and terrifying all at once, the indescribable hues of colors gave chase to his falling form. Illuminated beams extended out, weaving and streaking the stratosphere like arms to catch him before he hit the ground below.
Stretching out as far as he could, Hoseok yearned to touch it, curious to learn its texture. Time seemed to slow. Dark hair kissed his cheeks gently, fluttering, as he wondered what something so pretty even felt like? Was it cold? Or did it burn? Sting? Tingle? Drench?
Since he was going to die regardless, it'd be nice to die knowing something like that. Maybe then, the idea of his life cut short wouldn't be so bad, so tragic.
Maybe then, he'd have some hope.
As though his request had been heard, the light sped faster, until suddenly his fingertips grazed the surface. Sizzling. An electrifying current blew through his veins, hot and freezing all at the same time. Flesh quivering, pleasured by the exotic sensation, Hoseok's lips parted in a blissful grin. 
Because now he knew.
He knew everything.
Completely at peace and with an accepting look in his eye, the man gave himself over to the light. Permitting his body to be consumed within its glow, before he came crashing down on the sidewalk beneath. 
The midnight bell concluded, marking the arrival of a new day. 0:00 a.m.
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valy-gc · 2 months
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Heartslabyul rules
Soooo... we only knows a bunch of rules from Heartslabyul... and I decided to try create some.
I didn't actually finished yet because... well that's a LOT!! O_O
But I want to make the full list! It can help peoples who are writing fanfics ;)
So here is the list. Thoses officially from the games have the indication of where we have the info
Have fun imagining yours and I'll add them to the list! :D
001 | You must knows all 810 rules by heart.
002 | Every Monday, you must wear red and black striped socks
003 | You must walk backwards through your home on the 9th day of every month.
004 | You must greet each other with a curtsy or a bow
005 | Every Friday, you must wear a crown made of flowers if you’re out of your house after 9pm.
006 | It is forbidden to eat anything purple on Thursdays.
007 | It is forbidden to eat any dessert on friday evening without first reciting a rhyme about it
008 | If you see a blue caterpillar you must recite him a poem
009 | It is forbidden to eat carrots without singing a carrot-themed song.
010 | Every resident must have a collection of top hats.
011 | It is mandatory to sign names with a heart instead of a dot
012 | It is mandatory to wear a tutu while doing laundry.
013 | It is forbidden to step on cracks in the pavement
014 | It is forbidden to eat anything with a square shape on Mondays.
015 | It is forbidden to eat anything with a triangular shape on Sundays.
016 | On Tuesdays, you must wear mismatched shoes.
017 | It is forbidden to eat anything with a round shape on Fridays.
018 | You must wear a crown made of seashells at the beach.
019 | It is forbidden to wear the color yellow on Wednesdays.
020 | You must have a collection of playing cards and display them in tyour rooms
021 | On the first day of spring, you must hop everywhere you go.
022 | The use of ordinary playing cards as coasters is strictly prohibited
023 | You must not bring cats into areas of festivity (0-3)
024 | You must only speak in rhymes on the second Wednesday of each month.
025 | There must always be a tea party on the 5th day of every month (Prerelease Comic)
026 | It is forbidden to open an umbrella indoors, unless it is raining outside.
027 | You must wear mismatched gloves whenever it snows.
028 | It is mandatory to have a tea party with at least one stuffed animal present.
029 | You must only use quill and ink to write on Sundays.
030 | It is forbidden to say the word ‘rabbit’ on the first day of the month.
031 | It is forbidden to say the word ‘mouse’ in the presence of a cat.
032 | It is mandatory to paint one fingernail green every Friday.
033 | You must always wear a pocket watch, but it must never tell the correct time.
034 | It is forbidden to whistle indoors on Saturdays.
035 | It is forbidden to read a book without first reading the last page.
036 | It is forbidden to use a door when a window is available on the third Thursday of every month.
037 | You must not step on any shadows during a full moon.
038 | It is forbidden to use a spoon when a fork will do.
039 | You must always carry a key that not open any door.
040 | It is forbidden to eat bread without first toasting it and letting it cool.
041 | It is forbidden to eat an apple without first peeling it and cutting it into slices.
042 | It is forbidden to wear socks with sandals.
043 | You must always stir your tea counter-clockwise.
044 | All persons more than a mile high must leave the court immediately. (Rule from Alice in Wonderland)
045 | Coffee is forbbiden
046 | It is forbidden to eat cheese unless it’s presented on a miniature silver platter.
047 | You must carry a pebble in your pocket at all times; it’s to be named and introduced to new acquaintances.
048 | It is forbidden to open a book without first announcing its title aloud.
049 | You must wear a scarf with exactly seven stripes on the first windy day of the month.
050 | You must not enter a closed room without first knocking three times, even if it’s empty.
051 | It is forbidden to drink water without first toasting to someone’s health.
052 | You must not eat spaghetti without twirling it on a fork exactly four times.
053 | You must wear a piece of jewelry that jingles when you walk, for a week, once a year.
054 | It is mandatory to have a secret handshake with at least three other persons.
055 | You must not use the color pink in any artwork during the month of May
056 | You must only write in cursive on the last day of each month.
057 | It is forbidden to wear hats indoors unless it’s a Sunday.
058 | It is forbidden to eat soup without a garnish of edible flowers.
059 | You must wear a cloak with at least three different colors on rainy days.
060 | It is forbidden to use the same teacup more than once in a week.
061 | It is mandatory to carry a hand fan decorated with ribbons during the summer.
062 | It is forbidden to read poetry aloud unless you’re standing on one foot.
063 | It is forbidden to wear laced shoes on the first Monday of the month.
064 | It is forbidden to use pencils; only pens with purple ink are allowed.
065 | You must wear a ring that glows in the dark every Wednesday.
066 | It is mandatory to leave a small treat for the dormouse every evening.
067 | You must not pass a bookshelf without selecting a book and reading one sentence aloud.
068 | It is mandatory to have a riddle contest with a friend once a week.
069 | It is forbidden to walk; you must skip or hop everywhere on the second Tuesday of the month.
070 | You must serve cookies shaped like stars during a new moon
071 | You must not play checkers with anyone wearing green
072 | You must dance with a broom if the clock strikes exactly 1pm at the moment you watch it
073 | You must not look into a mirror while eating jam
074 | If you wake-up between 2am and 3am you must get up and go outside to compliment the moon ; If there is no moon, bow to the stars before going back to bed.
075 | You must not hum while holding a red apple
076 | You must not pass a salt shaker directly to another person
077 | You must only write with green ink during a thunderstorm
078 | You must not cross your arms while standing on one leg
079 | You must only eat soup with a fork on the third Thursday of the month
080 | You must wear a feather behind your ear when the wind blows east
081 | You must not play hopscotch unless you've seen a cloud shaped like a teapot
082 | You must not catch butterflies unless you promise to tell them a story
083 | You must not use the stairs on days when you've seen a rainbow
084 | You must wear a necklace made of candy on your half-birthday
085 | You must not use bookmarks made of paper on windy days
086 | You must wear a ribbon in your hair when the first snow falls
087 | You must not eat cake with a fork on odd days
088 | You must only drink milk from a glass with a red straw
089 | You must not eat the Queen’s tarts without her permission (1-2)
090 | You must not play the flute unless the moon is visible
091 | You must not pick up pennies found on the ground
092 | You must not play marbles unless there's a rainbow
093 | You must wear a necklace of daisies when the first leaf falls
094 | You must not drink orange juice after you've seen a squirrel
095 | You must carry a lantern if you walk in the forest at dusk
096 | If you spill your tea, you must apologize to each droplet before cleaning it up
097 | If a butterfly lands on your nose, you must balance a spoon on your head for an hour
098 | If you find a four-leaf clover, you must wear it in your hair until it wilts
099 | When you hear an owl hoot, you must recite your favorite poem upside down
100 | If a falling leaf land on your head, you must keep it safe in a book until the next full moon
102 | You must not pass under a bridge if you've eaten cheese that day
103 | If you lose a sock, you must wear a teacup on your head until it reappears
104 | When you hear thunder, you must swap a secret with the nearest tree
105 | If you laugh three times before noon, you must walk backwards for the rest of the day
106 | When a frog croaks, you must reply with a poem about rain
107 | You must not open windows if you've sung in the shower
108 | You must not say your own name out loud on days with a double rainbow
109 | You must not wear green on days when you've seen a lizard (does Malleus count?)
110 | If you spill salt, you must throw it over your left shoulder while hopping on one foot
111 | If you catch a spider, you must recite a riddle to it before setting it free
112 | If you find a lost button, you must sew it onto your sleeve, regardless of its color
113 | When you see a cloud shaped like a fish, you must sing a sea shanty
114 | If you spill ink, you must write a letter of apology to the inkwell
115 | If you step on a crack, you must immediately spin around three times
116 | You must not eat peas unless you've counted them first
117 | If you accidentally sneeze on a Tuesday, you must immediately find a clover and present it to the nearest tree
118 | You must wear a ring on your thumb if you've heard a dog bark before dawn
119 | You must not use a fork if you've seen a rainbow before breakfast
120 | When you see a cloud shaped like a heart, you must send a love letter to the sky
121 | You must not wear blue shoes on days when you've eaten chocolate
122 | You must never cross your legs while sitting
123 | If you accidentally step on an ant, you must sing a lullaby at the next sunset to apologize
124 | When you get soaking wet, you must dry off with a run in the ocean (Endless Halloween night 4-8)
125 | When you hear a woodpecker, you must tap your feet in rhythm until it stops
126 | If you see a worm, you must draw a map in the dirt with a stick
127 | If you see a cloud that looks like a dragon, you must immediately find a stone to guard
128 | When you see a butterfly, you must follow it until it lands
153 | The only tea you may drink in the evenings is herbal tea (1-14)
168 | If you stutter more than three times in a sentence, you must hop on one foot while reciting the alphabet backwards.
186 | Do not eat hamburger steak on Tuesdays (1-9)
228 | You must not pick flowers from the garden on Wednesdays (SM 2-2)
249 | You must wear pink while feeding the flamingos (1-19)
256 | You must not drink lemonade with honey past 8 PM (1-14)
271 | You must get up from the table within 15 minutes after eating (1-9)
304 | On days when a hedgehog sneezes, all card soldiers must sing a song together. (Comic Ch.4)
339 | Your after-meal tea must be lemon tea with 2 sugar cubes (1-9)
346 | You must not play croquet in the gardens past 5 PM (2-12)
412 | If you see a pair of moving eye-glasses in the forest, you must not go back the way you came (Happy Beans Day 2021 - Ch.31)
469 | Flowers must be both red and white when you invite over a new acquaintance (Trey Ceremony PS)
529 | If you eat steak on a night with a full moon, a cat must play the violin. (Happy Beans Day 2021 - Ch.2)
562 | Do not bring marron tarts to an Unbirthday Tea Party (1-16)
648 | You must brush your teeth 2 times on nights when you eat turkey (Trey School PS)
703 | Whoever comes in 2nd place during a croquet match must serve tea to the Queen the next day (Ghost Marriage 14)
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nineratsinatrenchcoat · 5 months
Text
The Beaver of Love - A Buc-ee's Adventure
Day 7 of Yasammy Week: Free Day
This concept has been in my brain for a hot second and I'm so glad to finally have out in the world! Preview below and I hope you lovelies enjoy :D
@yasammyweek
The night air was cool and crisp. As Yaz walked across the parking lot, she marveled at just how nice it all was. Daytime temperatures in Michigan were already below freezing, and the first snow of the year had been just a week ago. How often did it snow here? She had heard from an uncle in Kentucky that the Southern states shut down at the slightest sign of a flurry.
The striped paint of a parking space on the pavement told her that she’d reached the front of the store. Double automatic doors framed the entrance. She wasn’t sure she felt ready to enter whatever insanity was behind them; the outside was weird enough. Dozens of ice boxes lined the wall, there was something that looked suspiciously like a fully-functioning tractor, and beyond it all was… a statue? Yeah, that was a bronze statue of something.
Yaz squinted at it; it looked like some kind of animal. If the person waving at her would just move out of the way, she might be able to figure it out.
Wait. Person waving at her?
Short bob, puffy brown jacket, cowgirl boots…
No way.
“Yaz?”
“Sammy?”
“Yaz!”
“Sammy!”
Yaz ran and ran, not caring about the dark, not caring about the cold, not caring about anything, because Sammy was there.
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Nora seeing Stud!Yang approach, his Semblance active and undoing his belt.
"Heh, I am Scaroused!!!"
This was supposed to be small, but I got carried away, a good little chaser for the next Weiss thing I guess~! Enjoy~!
---
Yang's gauntlet covered fist slammed down into the face of the white fang grunt with the force of a semi-truck, destroying the mask underneath his hand like a glass plate shattering against the ground, a sound that was as satisfying to him as it was cringe and sympathy pain inducing to anyone watching.
Yang was taught by his dad that it wasn't right to hit a woman, but you had to do what you had to do as a Huntsmen. And frankly, he thinks his dad wouldn't mind this time.
The woman in question he just laid the fuck out was almost twice his size, faded black stripes across her body like birthmarks and a set of feline like ears showed him the woman was something like a tiger. Whatever, he didn't care. Her head thudded against the pavement, her aura tanking the hit, and the force making her blackout.
Normally someone of this size against a person of her size meant a clear strength advantage, especially when she was visibly muscular, hot he'd say. But Yang wasn't a normal guy, and people didn't normally walk away from denting his fucking car.
Aura flooded his body the moment she through some poor guy into the side, they were robbing a dust store, or something, he didn't care, the guy ran when he was suddenly stuck between a 7-8 foot tall busty tigress and a 6'5 flaming guy screaming with rage. Her size meant nothing, he'd smashed Atlesian robots three times her size. He would have liked to see the look on her face behind the mask when he suddenly through her over his shoulder and slammed her down like nothing.
Someone her size wouldn't have been used to being manhandled so carelessly. Semblances were always a wild card. Something no one could predict, you just had to roll with the punches. Yang may have been dumb when it came to book smarts, never cared for it, but he was close to Pyrrha when it came to pure skill, but she'd always edge out ahead, she was just too good.
Yangs furious huffing came out in steamy breaths as his blood boiled, eyes glowing red and his flaming hair lighting up the darkened street, looking up at his car, it was a small dent, but a dent. The paint chipped off and his carefully cared for car looked like shit from this angle. His dad was right, his semblance was a glorified temper tantrum. Fuck.
"Hehehehe~! Scary~!" Yang realized he was still straddling the woman below him, arms still poised to hammer blows down more. But he wasn't going to, she was done. The police were on their way now.
Nora skipped happily into his vision as she got up to his car, bent over, and inspected the damage herself. He looked back, there were more White Fang, he just didn't care, focused only on the big one.
Three guys looked like hammered shit, passed out and maybe one had a broken arm, maybe because Nora's mallet was enough to crush most people, even him if she could hit him. Ouch.
"Aawwww!!" Nora whined and Yang looked back at her, his eyes catching before they reached his car. Nora was bent over at the waist, deeply bent over, not even caring her already hyper-miniskirt was hiked up so high he could see her fat ass clear as day pointed right at him, those massive fucking cheeks like two waterbeds wobbling and jiggling as she wiggled her hips curiously.
A night on the town, a few drinks, a dance at a club, Nora offered, Yang accepted. Nora showed up dressed to the nines, no doubt to shake her ass on the dancefloor, and that she did, twerking on him all night in the classically airheaded Nora fashion, she knew she was teasing, she knew she was twerking like a slut, but somehow she saw nothing wrong with it.
What he hadn't noticed in the dark building was the fact she wasn't wearing a thong, she was wearing something far sluttier.
The panties had a thin strip of fabric that covered her little quim easily, the pink panties going up from there but splitting off into two strings that squished and squeezed against her bubble booty tightly as they held onto that fucking wobbly dumptruck for dear life, up and over her wide breeding hips and down back to the fabric beneath.
But that meant nothing was covering her little pink asshole, the tiny pucker perfectly displayed between her cheeks as she bent over. Panties literally made for easy anal access. That little fucking whore.
Yang felt the need burn inside of him, and knowing Nora, it may have actually been her plan. He didn't know. He didn't care.
"It's broken.." Nora frowned and played with his broken side mirror, he didn't even notice it, but it made his blood boil more, eyes burning angry red as he suddenly stood up and grabbed his belt buckle, the metal clank echoing loudly as Nora looked back over her fat butt curiously, before her eyes went down to his hands, and she saw his burning hot rage and desire to fuck that fat slutty ass.
"Oopsie~!" Nora smiled cutely, lewdly, mischievously, all at once, dropping his snapped off mirror and making it shatter further while swaying that giant set of pillowy poundcakes side to side. The further damage to his baby was all he needed.
--
"Ah~!! Ahh~!! AAhahaa~!!! Ahh~!! AH~!! Ahh~!! M-More~!! Break my butt~!! Ghhhuuuaaaahhh~!!"
The entire yellow and black muscle car rocked violently as the girl bent over the hood squealed and screamed like a whore, her hands pressed firmly against the hood as the hand on the back of her neck slammed her face down into the cold metal, her little nippled pressed against the icy cold paint and her tongue hanging out dumbly.
Yang's teeth grit and ground as he violently smashed another pretty thing in his anger, his open palm coming crashing down onto those meaty, sweat slick, rippling fuckmeat cheeks of the braindead Valkyrie while his other held her down to make sure she couldn't move until he was finished with her vice grip like asshole.
"You fucking cheap, braindead, anal addicted whore!!" Yang snarled and growled, fire practically erupting from his mouth as he turned up the heat, literally. Steam and fire poured off his body in the cold air, and no doubt filled Nora to the brim with oven like heat as his hips crashed against hers.
The entire car rocked so violently he could hear it squeak, but he didn't care, he only focused on those sweaty, rippling ass cheeks clapping off his hips! Every single thrust sounded like thunder echoing in the street, her mountainous asscheeks rippled like water balloons with every single thrust, wobbling and jiggling around his cock, made eve worse by his hand viciously slapping her ass and leaving a nice harsh red handprint on her pale flesh.
Other would have called his pace and roughness too brutal, to hard, to violent, but Nora was built different, she could take it, take it like a whore.
"Yeeessshhhh~!! Fuck me Daddy~!! Break my slutty fuckhole~!!!" Yang's eyes burned red, he could only hear her slutty screams and squeals for more, her asshole was so hot and squeezed so tightly, it was a battle for every inch getting in and out, but he slam fucked that little sore asshole till her legs were shaking with strain and burning muscles, sweat dripping down her body in the cold air.
Switching his hand to her hair, Yang gripped the orange locks like a handle, yanking her back and arching her back viciously, but she could take it, her fat perky tits bounced in the open air as she was yanked back, her tongue hanging out and dripping with spit, her eyes rolling up in her head.
"AAH~!! Ah Ah AH AHA AHA AH AH AH~!!!" Tears poured down the slutty Valkyrie's face as she squirted across her thighs, his nuts slapping against her pussy as he slammed in all the way to the base.
"This was your fucking plan the whole time!! Wasn't it?! Nothing but a set of fucking holes, you just wanted to get used like a fuckdoll!!" The harsh, wet, clapping was getting harder, louder, faster, he was livid, and he had the perfect little fuckhole to take out all his anger on, he could break her and be fine, she wanted it, she wanted to be broken.
His hands suddenly shot to her neck, strong, calloused fingers wrapping around both sides of her throat as he ripped her away from the car, slamming her tiny body against the pavement below and jackhammering his cock down into her asshole from above, keeping her face down, ass up, as he he plowed balls deep into her fat, rippling cheeks, the sweaty cleft of her wrapped around his cock as he split her in two.
"HHGGKKK~!!! YESH~!! I JUSH WANNA BE A SHET OF FUCK HOLSH~!!" Nora wasn't shy, he knew she dreamed of being a walking cumdumpster, and it made him steel fucking hard. Hs hands squeezed brutally around her throat, and he could feel her clench around his cock harder, and in turn, he fucked her twice as hard, so hard he could see the pavement under them crack, her ass clapping so loud he knew people all over could hear it, as well as her squeals.
"FUCK!!!" Yang slammed do hard into her asshole he knew he was going to be sore in the morning, and so was she, but he couldn't stop watching those rippling waterbeds clap and jiggle around his fuckstick, but whether he wanted to or not, he couldn't stop the clenching of his balls as he suddenly flooded her asshole with his almost boiling hot cum, cock clenching over and over as shot after shot spilled into her and painted her insides white.
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH~!!! YESH DADDY~!!" But he didn't stop, he kept pounding into her till his cum squirted out around his dick, until he physically couldn't take the sore pleasure, and his cock was yanked out too far, springing out of her hole and slapping down between her cheeks for him to spray the last few loads onto her fat ass. Painting her cheeks with his seed, staining her miniskirt as those strings of creamy nut dripped and coated her sweaty cheeks wonderfully.
Yang huffed and panted as his hair finally calmed down, snuffing out the flames and his usual lilac eyes returned, sweat dripping from his body as Nora laid there, fucked stupid, eyes still rolled up in her head as nut squirted out of her gaping, well fucked asshole, his hands gently letting go but leaving a nice red ring from where he strangled her.
"Fucking.. hell.." Yang huffed and gasped, hell of a way to calm down, that's for sure. "Ha.. Haha.. You good Nora?" He grinned, looking down at his handy work.
Nora's ass was still covered in sweat and cum, underneath was his red handprints, her eyes rolled up as she sat there broken. She looked like she was in heaven, a big slutty smile on her face.
"Th-Thank you Daddy~!" Oh yeah, she was fine.
---
Yang sat in his car, burger in hand as he looked out over the city, sure his car was still fucked, but he could fix it. Gotta take things into perspective sometimes. Not get so mad. Enjoy the little things.
Well, the redhead currently choking on his cock, bent over on all fours on the seat, slurping, sloppy sucking, and gagging on his musky, sweaty dick certainly helped calm him down.
"Your food is gonna get cold." He added, biting his burger but grabbing her head and slamming her throat down onto his cock till her lips kissed his nuts.
"Mmmmmmmhhhhh~!!" She didn't seem to mind.
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Breaking down the comics: Starting the Collection (Issue 3)
Moon Knight, Issue #3:  Midnight Means Murder. 
Written by Doug Moench and drawn by Bill Sienkiewicz
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YES. BACK IN IT WITH BILL AND DOUG! 
I don’t know WHY I didn’t do this one in my first plans? Why the hell did I skip Midnight man? I covered his return, but his initial issue? I can’t explain past me to you. 
So here we are, back at the beginning. Issue number three! And we see Moon Knight’s FIRST big deal. It’s his first big villain (I don’t count Bushman. I’ll explain that later) that also reoccurs. 
The title page? 
We open on a splash of the Daily Bugel. 
And boy howdy is thi creative or what? And what makes me even happier? You can actually read the paper! You'll have to pardon me as I take you through it. I love when writers actually take the time to put something worth while in little newspaper clippings like this.
Saturday, May 3 1980. A nice picture of Moon Knight beating up two bank robbers and a mystery picture of someone robbing a museum. 
"They even list Doub Moench as the "Staff Writer" and give photographer credit to Bill Sienkiewicz. 
"ANOTHER LUNA NIGHT. "
"The third national bank was robbed last night, but only up to a point. 
That point was roughly three steps beyond the entrance of the defiled bank, located at the southwest corner of Madison Avenue and 89th Street, where the two armed desperadoes were abruptly assailed by a silver and black hurricane named Moon Knight. 
As far as the costumed vigilante is concerned, the hurricane analogy is more than apt. According to the sole eyewitness, the admittedly groggy night watchman (who had been struck on the head by ne of the would-be thieves), "The guy just seemed to come out of the sky like some kind of silver ghost, and then the two robbers were on the pavement. I never seen nothing like it before." 
As for the battered thugs (whose names are being withheld pending further investigation), one supposes they never knew what hit them. Long before the police arrived the Moon Knight had vanished, leaving behind only his silver crescent-dart 'calling card'--with the foiled thieves and recovered loot in the care of the night watchman. When this writer last checked the blotter, the two new prisoners were still peacefully dreaming of sweet green and all it can buy. A rude awakening of striped shadows and iron bars awaits them. 
And speaking of shadows, Manhattanites have never been more spooked by them, despite the relentless presence of the Moon Knight, if not the police. This was the 23rd night of New York's latest uninterrupted crime wave. And although Moon Knight has figured prominently (and spectacularly) in 19 of the past 23 nights, the jet nad silver whirlwind has yet to tangle with the most celebrated miscreant currently about town--he who has been dubbed "the Midnight Man," a thief with taste and the fall to appease it nightly in all the better parts of an outraged town. Even a hurricane, it seems, cannot strike everywhere. Even so, nor can one turn back the tide of the inevitable. Like the moon and midnight, these two mysterious men go together. And sooner or later, one suspects walking through the plastered shadows of this nighted city, their paths are destined to cross, and clash. It is only a matter of time, measured by the darkness between midnights." 
He certainly does play up Moon Knight a lot, doesn't he? Doug is just so super proud of his boy. 
And it also reminds me that Moon Knight's outfit was originally silver, not white. It was supposed to give him a leg-up against the werewolf, Jack Russel. 
The other article "Midnight Man Strikes Again" talks about 'the connoisseur art thief' that has burgled a rare Monet oil painting. He has also been taunting the police by mail. The latest note being a taunt to anyone that dares try to stop him, "including that gaudy buffoon Moon Knight," Especially "now that I've amply demonstrated that the police are no match for my cunning or finesse." 
ANYWAYS. I thought it was a good title page. 
We open on Moon Knight stopping a Saturday night mugging. 
I also love how Moon Knight insults people. “Turkey”.
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We continue on, Midnights of missing art. 
We also see Moon Knight stopping various other crimes. 
"Tuesday morning at Grant Mansion--where one man lives under many names... Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley, and Moon Knight, among others." 
We find Steven working out with Marlene. 
"Morning, Delilah." 
"Nedda will have breakfast ready in twenty minutes." 
"Okay, Marlene--Just let me hit the bag a few minutes and then I'll take my steam bath." 
"As you wish, Steven... But in case you haven't noticed, I'm waiting with bated breath. Who are you today?" 
"Huh?" 
"What clothes do you want?" 
"Oh--Give me Lockley's." 
"Why Lockley?" 
"Thought I'd sniff out a little scandal, and Lockley's got the best nose--or at least the best connections." 
Ahh... Issue 3. Absolute denial country. 
Look at this man. He goes from prim proper Steven Grant to complete Jake Lockley in the comfort of his own home. It's...It's beautiful. 
"And so, at breakfast..." 
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LOOK AT THIS MAN. (He doesn’t get his trademark mustache till a later issue). 
Jake, where are you manners? How are you sitting like that? 
I also adore how Jake always addresses Marlene as “Lady”. Like he refuses to acknowledge that they are an item. She’s just a lady that he has to live with because Marc and Steven have an eye for her. 
And look at poor Nedda in the background. 
Anyways, Marlene calls Jake on wanting to go after the Midnight man. 
"You can't bluff me, Mister--You're going after this 'Midnight Man'." 
"He's goading me Marlene, playing Jack the Ripper with these taunting letters in the paper." 
"But he's NOT the ripper--He's just a common, if clever thief." 
"So who ever claimed thieves were beneath me, Lady?" 
"That's not what I mean. I just worry sometimes. You're too eager to accept challenges. 
Besides, have you forgotten the charity bash you're hosting tonight? There's plenty to do around here as Steven Grant." 
"I'll be back in time. How long does it take to shuck Lockley's rags and shrug into Grant's tux?
And don't worry about me so much---You're forgetting who I am." 
Oh? And WHO are you, Jake buddy? (I prod because at this point Jake has not figured out who he is. Early Moon Knight was in so much denial). 
"It's easy to do, dear Steven--Excuse me, dear JAKE. You've got so many different names, identities, and moods, even YOU forget who you are half the time." 
DING DING. See. Marlene gets it. She hates it and pretends she doesn't... But she does get it. I get frustrated with Marlene with the amount rejection Marlene has over the whole system. She has her mind set on the whole "He's a mess but I can fix him" thing. ANd in her mind, fixing him is making Steven the only person in that head and settling down with her. 
What does Jake have to say about that? 
"Makes life interesting, Lady--Too boring being just one character. Maybe I should've been an actor. After all, all life's a stage." 
Jake my buddy my pal my good friend Jake… 
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1980s everyone… 
Outside the mansion we find Samules, the butler. He's got Jake's cab ready for him. 
"Really, sir, don't you think this...ah, vehicle could use a washing once in a--" 
"Part of my disguise, Samules, the dirt is--Gotta look like a real New York cabbie in a real new york cab." 
"Very well, sir--But I do wish you'd make up your mind one of these days. Polish the mercedes and peel the cab's paint--Press the suit and rumble the jeans--Oh dear." 
Poor Samules. 
Jake tells him to go alert Frenchie to give the chopper a once-over. 
Samules heads up to the roof to meet with Frenchie. 
He finds the chopper alone with no Frenchie in sight. 
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I miss Samules. 
I love that he makes the helicopter go "vroom vroom". 
And I love that Frenchie thinks this is cute and calls him the "Daring air-ace". 
He offers Samuels a 'little...ride' 
"Certainly not! It... It's undignified for a man of my...My--" 
"Oui, Samuels. I understand. But we can all dream, no?" 
....And in re-reading this I am faced with the fact that this could 100% have all been euphemisms and Frenchie legit hitting on Samuels. I doubt very much Moench wrote it that way on purpose... But then again... He was very sneaky and found ways to get away with things that were 'forbidden' to put in comics at this time... 
(Marvel Editor and Chief at the time, Shooter, was notoriously homophobic and banned the portrayal of gay characters in the comics. Doug and many other writers had a HUGE problem with this.) 
We find outselves next at Gena's! Jake's got a box as he heads on in. 
"After cruisin' all day with no luck, guess it's time to try old reliable..." 
"Hey, Gena--How's the kids?" 
He always asks her about the kids. Always. 
Jake turns to Crawley and hands him the box. 
If you’ll excuse me… I’m going to go sob and hug 1980s Moench Jake Lockley. I’ve missed him so much. 
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He knows his people and he loves his people. 
Crawley dishes it out to Jake. 
He hasn't heard anything but there are some guys over at the pool hall across the way that might know more. 
Crawley escorts Jake over and they get the cold shoulder from the gys. They claim they haven't heard anything and get a little menacing about it. 
Jake tells them that "if anyone has a memory attack, I'll be out in the alley in fifteen minutes." 
He slips out, leaving Crawley to talk to the guys alone. 
They ask Crawley if Jake's a cop. 
"Certainly NOT. I keep company in a higher social stratum than THAT." 
He tells them Jake pays very well for good info and it would do them good to get in with that standing. 
The guys head outside with intent to rob Jake. 
Unfortunately for them, someone else is waiting. 
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Moon Knight says don’t rob Jake. That’s rude. 
Moon Knight asks nicely where the Midnight man fences his loot. 
The remaining conscious man tells him that Midnight Man DOESN'T fence it. He keeps it! 
"B-But the word is... He... He's gonna take you on tonight..." 
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He thanks the man for the info. 
I must say... No one really appreciates that Moon Knight really does have a witty sense of humor. He amuses himself and he's just a goof. 
Jake rushes back to Steven’s party. 
"You're late, Steven--Or is it still Jake?" Marlene greets them back at the mansion. 
"Nope---Jake Lockley has just retired for the evening, my dear Marlene. As of right now, I'm Steven Grant, prominent multi-millionaire and suave host of charity fund-raisers." 
"Then hurry and get dressed, Schizo." 
Yeah.... That's Marlene. I've said it before, but at this point in age, D.I.D was not widely known about and didn't really have a diagnosis or name. MPD (multiple Personality DIsorder) was also not really clarified at that time and everything was still classified under the all encompassing branch of "Schizophrenia". ...However, Schizo had become an insult used to describe anyone with any unpleasant or abnormal behavior. 
Marlene continues to chastise him telling him that the guests will be arriving and "Chances are they'd appreciate a brief appearance by the host." 
Narration: "Steven Grant suppresses a Lockley grin... Gaining full control of his new Persona some thirty minutes later..." 
I love this. Jake's got a sense of humor and is playful and mischievous. The idea of upsetting Marlene and missing the shindig all together appeals to Jake. He hates these fancy parties. And it takes 30 minutes for Steven to do a full switch out. This is actually a fantastic approach to DID and is probably the most accurate portrayal in Moon Knight you're going to get. 
At the party, Marlene introduces Steven to the people. 
"And now if I may have your attention, ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to present the host of the benefit, and the best boss I've ever had--indeed, the best of many bosses I've got right NOW--Steven Grant." 
Clever Marlene. 
Steven certainly didn't miss that little jab. 
"Flirty with danger, aren't you, darling?" 
Steven gives a very very short speech then starts to mingle. 
He meets up with one Anton Mogart (that name should ring a bell or two). 
He offers Steven his card. He's an art collector. He asks to speak to Steven privately. 
Steven has a few paintings but admits to be just a dabbler of art. "One must do something with one's money and walls, and somehow---George Washington wallpaper is just a trifle gauche." 
LOL Steven... 
Mogart admits he's a bit worried, and this is why he wanted to speak to Steven. 
"I understand an acquaintance of yours happens to be a soldier-of-fortune named Marc Spector, who contracts for certain...ah, dangerous undertakings." 
"You've done your homework, Mogart. What sort of contract do you have in mind?" 
"Protecting some paintings from imminent theft--by the Midnight Man. The fee would be, let us say, $100,000. These canvases, you see, are valuable." 
Mogart claims to have gotten a direct letter from the Midnight Man saying that he was coming for his paintings tonight. 
Steven agrees, saying "Spector owes me a favor. I'll subcontract the job in his behalf--" 
Steven even tells him that he doesn't want cash, but would like a new piece of art for his wall where there is an empty space. (this will come back later) 
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Steven heads back to the Gala and tells Marlene that he needs to go. She protests but he tells her "I just got invited to a better party. Fill in for me." 
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Frenchie….What are you reading. What is this ‘action’ you are talking about? 
They head to Anton Mogart's home in Jersey. Frenchie asks if it's a trap. 
Moon Knight notes it might be worse than a trap. 
Once they reach the house, he jumps from the copter and sneaks into the house through the window (for once he doesn't crash through it and I am sad to not have to add a tally to my chart). 
And we are treated to one of my favorite renditions of Moon Knight ever.
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The lights come on and Midnight Man is there waiting for him. 
While Midnight Man had no fear of the police, he did worry that Moon Knight would stop him sooner or later, so he decided to force his hand and make it sooner. 
Pulling out a gun, he intends to kill Moon Knight so he can carry on with his robberies. 
Moon Knight flings his truncheon at the light, plunging them into darkness. 
He hides in the shadows (not easy to do when you have an outfit made out of SILVER) and then wails on Midnight Man a little. 
Which... To be fair to Midnight Man, heis a thief and NOT a fighter. 
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Then again…
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LOL Moon Knight really? 
They get off the elevator and Mogart pulls a dagger. 
They crash out the window (this does not count for dramatic window crash because they are leaving and Moon Knight didn't make this choice.) 
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He slips on glass and ends up on the ground as usual. He spends a lot of time on the ground. 
Mogart takes advantage and prepares to stab him when…
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Marlene shows up randomly to straight up murder a dude. 
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Moon Knight tries to save him but Mogart plunges to the water below. 
“That really wasn’t necessary, Marlene–I would have stopped him. Besides, I rather liked the man… He was….Refreshingly psychotic.” 
This is what I love about Moon Knight and is something that continues throughout the Moench run and even pops up in later runs then comes back in MacKay’s run. 
Moon Knight genuinely grows attached to his villains. He cares about them and enjoys them. We see this again in Stained Glass Scarlet. In other runs, he tends to pick small time villains and just harass the hell out of them (See Eightball in MacKay’s run). They aren’t big time hitters. They barely muster enough gusto to be considered villains. Yet he comes after them as if they were big time villains. He even enjoys it. And you know what? I think it actually helps them. He knows their real names. He knows their trademarks. He recognises them right off the bat. They know Moon Knight’s watching them. They consider robbing a bank but see Moon Knight’s shadow and go “Nawh.” and go home. 
You know what else? He treats them with respect. Where as say, Wolverine, wouldn’t bat an eye and waste time on such small petty crooks. But Moon Knight does because he CARES. He cares about the people he’s helping, about doing a good job…
And about the villain. And like with Eightball, sometimes we see that Villain come around and change their lives and do good. Bringing good back into the world. 
So why did he like Mogart? Mogart was honest. He did what he did because he was greedy and wanted to possess things. He wanted to possess beautiful things. He didn’t hurt anyone, though his risks were getting bigger and bigger and were starting to lead to someone getting hurt. He also had a huge ego and did it all for the thrill. 
Marlene urges them to leave before the cops arrive but Moon Knight takes his time. 
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Epilogue: 
We see Marlene and Steven going to the art museum. Suddenly, Marlene recognizes some of the pieces. 
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The three pictures from before. It’s sort of funny that any time Steven does make large donations that aren’t about just money, he always puts Marc’s name there. The money? That’s Steven. Steven made the money and Steven will organize charities and events. But Marc? Marc’s going to be the one to add to art museums, open soup kitchens, or donate park benches. Is it Marc trying to make up for the things he’s done? Or is it Steven trying to remind Marc that there are good things that can be done in the world that aren’t always about breaking a nose? 
They head back to Grant Mansion. 
Marlene is still confused as to why he gave away the pictures. 
"I learned a lesson from Mogart--Collecting does bad things to the blood. Besides, there's still too much of vagabond Spector in my blood, too little of Collector Grant." 
Marlene asks what he'll do with the blank spot on the wall. 
Steven notes that the police dragged the river and never found a body. No body no death. It’s nice that the comics acknowledge that now and then. 
He's hung up Mogart's opera cape. 
"He'll be back for it someday--He's too much the collector to let it remain at large." 
Marlene tells him that she thinks he's right. 
"You see, my gun has always fired a trifle wide. And with you and Mogart struggling so close together, I couldn't trust it with anything but... Rubber bullets." 
And Mogart DOES return in a later issue and take his cape back. 
But for now, we end the issue! 
And you know what? This was a refreshing issue. It’s the start of Moon Knight’s love of his house of villains. We see an early introduction to Marc, Jake, and Steven starting to dance around one another, we see Marlene not only do her thing of rescuing Moon Knight, but of being the one to struggle to keep their life together. It’s amazing to look back at the start after running through backwards (why do I always do things backwards? Why does it always work?). 
I miss the old classic villains. They've made a point to kill them off over the years. They were dubbed to be too boring or over used or silly. But they had a certain nostalgia to them. Something he knew what to expect and I think they brought comfort to Moon Knight.
"Refreshingly Psychotic." He liked his neurotic villains. Weird and unique and somehow also sad and alone. Perhaps he saw a bit of himself in them. A path that he knows he could have taken. Can you imagine if Marc Spector had become a villain?
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imashoe69420 · 11 months
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Hiii!!! I’ve been recently reading your work and I wanted to say that there are absolutely wonderful to read and I would like to ask a request from you! Could you maybe make some Headcannons of platonic Leo x reader and maybe make the reader a yellow-bellied slider turtle mutant? I just think that they would be besties because of them being both slider turtles! (P.S. you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to enjoy what you write and make sure to take care of yourself :)
☆彡Turtle Twins★彡
Rise!Leo X Reader
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Genre: Fluff
Pronouns: Gender Neutral (they/them)
Perspective: Third Person (Omniscient)
Relationship: Platonic
Timeline: Post-Movie
Warnings ⚠️: Language
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(What you look like)
=================================
Leo had never had a friend that was solely his friend. Of course, he was friends with April and Casey, but they were his brothers’ friends as well. For once, he had someone to himself… although, the two did meet a little unconventionally.
It was a boring day in the Hidden City; a boring day Leo decided to stir up. He’d irritated a patron at a pub enough so to cause a bar fight. The police were soon on his tail.
The turtle sprinted into an alley only to be clotheslined by an outstretched arm. A metal canister rattled against the pavement as Leo heard a grunt that wasn’t his own.
He looked up to see a turtle. Despite their angry expression, Leo could only focus on the stripes on their face. But instead of his red ones, the stranger had yellow stripes and black skin with various yellow designs on their legs and face. Their torso, shell, and arms were hidden by an oversized gray hoodie. They also wore a multicolored respirator that was now pulled into their forehead.
“What’s the rush—oh, shit.” The stranger turtle’s gaze landed on the assailing cops. Without missing a beat, the stranger dropped the other metal canister of spray paint and sprinted away.
Leo shot up to his feet. “Hey, wait!” He called after the mysterious turtle, following behind them.
The two made their way into the nearest connected alley which brought them back into town. It was easy for them to navigate through the clutter of people occupying the streets, but the cops had a harder time, constantly yelling at civilians to get out of their way.
Eventually, the turtles outpaced the officers. They crumbled to the hot concrete of another alley, struggling to catch their breath. The stranger rested a hand on Leo’s shoulder.
“You’re faster than I thought you were, kid.” They remarked, patting his shoulder before sitting up. “But try not getting me caught up in your crimes, okay?”
Leo chuckled. “You’re not too bad yourself.”
The stranger quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re not from here, are you? Topsider?”
The blue clad turtle nodded, noticing the random spirts of color on the other turtle’s hoodie. “You… spray paint?”
They nodded back, pointing down the alley at a mural of a detailed Heinous Green roaring. “But these freaks down here can’t understand true talent. A shame. I could literally paint the town gold.”
With a snicker, Leo stood to his feet. He offered the stranger a hand and they graciously accepted.
“I’m Leo. Or Leon… Neon Leon. Whichever sounds the best.” He introduced himself smugly.
“I’m (Y/N). But you can call me (N/N).” The turtle smiled before pointing toward Leo’s face. “I see you copied my look.”
Leo was confused for a second until realizing. “OH… hardly! This has been the ‘Leon’ look for generations, baby.”
The two turtles spent the rest of the day wreaking havoc around the city, eating mystical foods, and skateboarding on (Y/N)’s makeshift half pipe.
When the sun began to set, the blue clad turtle groaned.
“What’s wrong?” (Y/N) asked, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the half pipe.
“I gotta get goin’. Duty calls!” He exclaimed sarcastically. “I had fun, though. I’ll totally come by tomorrow!”
(Y/N)’s eyes lit up at Leo’s excitement. They didn’t have many friends, so they could barely stop themselves from enveloping Leo in a hug.
The turtle nodded. “And I’ll teach you how to spray paint, too.”
“Sounds like a plan!”
Leo held his hand out to (Y/N), who slightly hesitated before shaking it.
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hinacu-arts · 2 years
Text
Finally started on
Beloved Bi Crisis - The Fic
So here's the first 700 words of draft one, as a little treat for all of those who followed me here on tumblr. ❤️
.
Casey woke up with a groan. He pushed himself up off the cement only for his arms to give out and drop him right back down.
“Uhh, guys? I think he’s waking up.”
How did Casey get here again? Where was here? And why did his body feel weak? Oh yeah, some new mutant got ahold of some kraang portal tech and was ranting about alternate counterparts and timelines and a bunch of other things Casey didn’t really understand. He remembers the mutant snuck up behind them and managed to kick Donnie and Mikey into the portal. There was some fighting and… oh that’s embarrassing. Casey tripped on some cables and fell into the portal. There was colors everywhere and the feeling of a vacuum and the sounds of Casey’s screams. And now he’s kissing pavement. First order of business, come up with a story that leaves him with some dignity by the end. Second, sit up.
“Hey, buddy, you okay? You kinda fell out of the sky and landed pretty hard-”
“Dude, you belly-flopped on the concrete. It was like something out of a cartoon. Oh, Donnie, please tell me you somehow recorded that-”
“Guys, focus. Leo, did he hit his head? Does he have a concussion?”
Casey had managed push his forehead into the ground and pull one of his knees up and in like some kind of inchworm. He was currently trying to scrunch his other leg in.
“I mean, probably? He fell like sixteen feet.”
“Leo.”
“What?! How would you like it if some stranger started giving you a medical exam before you’ve even fully woken up?”
There was a groan. Casey ignored them and slipped his forearms under the space he’d made before successfully pushing himself into a half sitting position. He moved his head the rest of the way to see… mutant turtles?
They were on a rooftop. The rooftop and the buildings surrounding it seemed to be purple instead of boring old gray. There was one shelled figure standing up on the ledge, facing away from Casey and looking down to something in his hands. There was a huge turtle, like seriously huge, his arms were thicker than Casey was wide, dragging his hands down his face and looking up to the sky like God could help him. Next to him, lounging like a moviestar on an old pool chair, was a much smaller turtle with colorful markings or paint on his skin. Last was the smallest turtle, who was flittering around Casey like he wanted to help but had been told couldn’t get to close. He was also covered in colors. Everyone was wearing wrappings up their arms and legs, similar to how the guys and Splinter did, but these wraps were black. Everything they wore was black except for colored cloth that was wrapped around their heads… colors in almost the exact same shade as Casey’s friends.
“Who are you?” Casey’s croaked out. His voice was hoarse and quiet, probably from all the not-screaming he had just done, “Some kinda wanna-bes?”
The big one gestured at him, “Good, he’s awake now. Now check if we need to drop him off at a hospital or something.”
“Geez, geez,” Stripes hopped off the chair and walked to Casey before dropping down to kneel next to him.
“Wait!” The colorful one called out.
Stripes froze, “Why?!”
“Dee said not to touch him until he was sure he wasn’t radioactive or anything.”
All the turtles looked to the dark figure on the ledge. Casey shifted into a more comfortable sitting position, his body no longer trembling under his weight.
“Thank you Angelo, at least someone listens to me,” The figure turned and stepped down to the roof before walking into the light. Casey rubbed at his eyes. Now that he was regaining his senses, he couldn’t help but notice this turtle was wearing, and rocking, thigh highs. Casey glanced around and took note at how humanoid these turtles looked. Maybe they were humans turned into turtles? Instead of turtles turned into humans like Casey’s friends?
“He’s clean. There’s dimensional energy from his world and any worlds he may have passed through, but it’s harmless to us. If my scans are correct, and they usually are, we are looking at dear Casey’s alternate universe counterpart.”
“What, like, Spider-Man multiverse stuff?”
“The exact same!”
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painting-service · 2 years
Text
Things You should Take Care While Parking Painting : Mister Paint
The preparations before the parking lot striping paint include cleaning the dirt and debris, and maintenance of the cracked or damaged floors, or asphalt. Read More >>
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liebgotts-lovergirl · 2 years
Text
Fire On Fire: Chapter 5
(Ch. 4), (Ch. 3), (Ch. 2), (Ch. 1)
Gallery II Taglist Application II Symbol Guide
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Summary: The truth comes out but neither expected the other's reaction... WARNINGS: Alcohol mention, general angst, fluff A/N: Tagging some of the amazing creators & friends whose work inspired me to start writing again: @wwhatev3r @brassknucklespeirs @softguarnere @holdingforgeneralhugs @rogue-durin-16 @auroralightsthesky @lenabob @legally-devorak @dustyjjumpwings @stillbandofbrothersthirsty @tvserie-s-world @toyes-lipring @hurricanerex666 @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @softliebgott @latibvles @mercurygray @sergeant-spoons @problematicfavesareproblematic @softspeirs
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Contemporary: June 3rd, 1944. Aldbourne, England. 
It didn't take her long to find him. 
Alix knew Joe well enough to know that he chain-smoked when he was upset and he'd want to sit down for a smoke before walking back to his billet, especially at such a late hour of the night.
She was a spy; she was supposed to know these things.
There was a quiet pond just a small ways from the pub which had a number of quaint wooden benches overlooking the water's edge. It was the perfect place for a late-night smoke to clear your head.
Despite being the middle of summer, nights in Aldbourne were usually brisk and as goosebumps prickled up her arms, Alix berated herself internally for forgetting to grab her fur wrap before leaving the house earlier.
In Philadelphia high society, fur was primarily for winter wear but with the drafty English air, the former model figured her mother would’ve forgiven her eventually. 
Squinting in the dim light, she was able to identify a lone figure occupying a bench by the water's edge and she surmised it was most likely Joe.
As she approached, the rhythmic click-clack of her heels on the pavement knifed through the stillness and the hunched figure turned, allowing the gentle glow of the moon to illuminate his face.
It was Joe Liebgott alright, and he looked like hell. 
He was pale as a ghost, save for the reddish blotches on his cheeks where tear-tracks glistened. His hair stuck out sporadically and Alix could tell he’d been running his hands through it, another nervous habit of his.
As soon as he saw her, he hurriedly swiped the tears away with his sleeve and only then did she notice the blood. 
It was crusted on the scraped and swollen knuckles of his right hand, with thin dried stripes all the way down his fingertips like crimson paint.
From what she could see, it looked like he'd busted his knuckles open punching something, probably a wall.
"Jesus, Joey, are you okay?!" 
Joe's expression hardened. 
"Don't worry 'bout it." 
Alix ignored him, stepping over the handful of cigarette butts that littered the ground by his boots and rushing to his side.
"Let me see your knuckles,” she insisted urgently. “I can help." 
Sitting next to him on the bench, she reached for his bloodied hand but he jerked his arm away.
"Like Hell you can."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, her temper starting to flare at his tone.
"It means don't bother, Alix," Joe spat and the young agent flinched. 
It was the first time he'd called her by her real name instead of a nickname and somehow, it stung worse than if he'd just cussed her out. 
“You should get going.” His voice was quieter now but just as embittered and he crossed his arms, staring hard at the pond’s surface. “Wouldn’t want your boyfriend getting worried.”
Alix bristled at the accusation. 
"He's not my boyfriend," she snapped. "I don’t even know him. But even if he was, what's it to you?" 
Snorting defensively, she muttered, "It's not like you give a shit about me beyond a quick fuck anyway." 
Joe's head shot up and he looked over at her with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. 
“Is that what you think,” he asked, his voice rising with indignation. “That I was just in this for sex?” 
“Santa Maria," the agent swore, throwing up her hands in frustration. "What else am I supposed to think when you walk into my life just to fuck me and walk out again like nothing ever happened?!”
"Goddamn it, Alix!” Joe sprang to his feet. "It was never about the sex! Don't you get that?! It was about you! It was about being with you!”
“Then why did you keep disappearing?” Alix pushed, her chest aching with half a year’s worth of suppressed heartache. “For weeks, Joey, not just days. Weeks!”
That was the final straw.
“Because I was falling in love with you, alright?!” Joe yelled, his voice breaking as the tears he’d been fighting began to spill down his cheeks. “And that scares the absolute shit outta me!”
Before Alix had time to comprehend what he’d said, Joe had turned away, squeezing his eyes shut and running a shaky hand through his hair as he struggled to regain his composure. 
For a moment, all Alix could do was stare at his back in stunned silence as the weight of his words began to sink in.
“But why…?” she managed to choke out finally.
Why would you love me?
“Why would that scare you?"
Her voice became small and she hated the way it sounded: Weak. Quivery. Scared. All of the things as an agent, she was trained never to be.
"...Am I that hard to love, Joey?" 
He whirled back around, the frustration gone and concern suddenly written all over his face.
"Fuck no! Are you kiddin' me?" 
Joe sat down next to her again, this time close enough that she could see herself reflected in the pupils of his beautiful, brown puppy-dog eyes.
Reaching out, he gently tucked an escaped curl from her bun behind her ear and Alix felt her heart skip a beat. 
"You, Alix Martinelli," he murmured. "Are the easiest fuckin' person in the world to love."
He flashed her a small, rueful smile and leaned back on the bench, digging a pack of his beloved Chesterfields out of his coat pocket.
"Hell,” he remarked with a sniffle as he fished around for his lighter.
“Everybody knows I’ve been stuck on you since your first day here. Didn’t even say a damn word to me but I saw that gorgeous smile and I was done for.” 
He chuckled softly, adding, “Tab and Popeye wouldn’t stop givin’ me shit about it.”
Alix's mind was racing, trying to make sense of it all.
All these abstract pieces, all these feelings, all that time…
“Joey, it’s been six months of whatever this—” she gestured to the two of them “— is but then tonight, out of the blue, you show up with…” 
She trailed off, unwilling or perhaps unable to finish the sentence.
“Mary." He filled in the name for her as he lit up his cigarette, completely oblivious, and Alix felt her mouth go dry. 
"Yeah. Her." 
"That was Tab's doing," Joe explained after taking a drag.
“He could tell I was losing my fuckin’ mind over you and he thought forcing me out on a double-date with him and some local girls might distract me or somethin'.” 
Taking a shorter drag, he let the smoke curl into the crisp night air and remarked dryly,
“As you can see, it didn't work.”
"Sure looked like it did with the way she was hanging off you," Alix muttered, trying and failing to keep the petulance and bitterness out of her tone. 
Joe leaned slightly closer to her to make sure she heard him.
"Not a bit. Like I told her and Tab, I already got my eye on somebody else."
He gave her a wink and she felt her cheeks starting to flush pink so she dropped her gaze, avoiding his eyes. 
It sounded too good to be true. There had to be a catch, there just had to be.
“But if you felt this way all this time, then why didn’t you say anything to me for so long?” she asked, expecting to catch him in a lie and prove to herself that the whole thing was some sort of mistake.
But when she cautiously looked up at him for an answer, he was gazing at her with those beautiful, sad brown puppy-dog eyes she loved so much.
"Because," he began. "I knew two things from the moment I met you. One: I knew loved you. Because how could I not? You're everythin' I ever wanted.  And Two…"
He hesitated for a second before saying quietly,
"Two: I knew you were gonna break my fuckin’ heart." 
Alix's forehead creased.
"I would never," she declared fervently but Joe just shook his head.
“Girls like you don’t end up with guys like me, Ziskeit. I’m not an idiot. You're a calendar girl, for Christ’s sake! You gotta practically beat guys off you with a stick! I've seen the pages people ripped out an' shoved in their pockets for safe-keeping. You're everybody's dream girl!"
He ran a hand through his hair.
"And you’re not just pretty either, you're smart too, crazy smart! With your OSS creds and your high-class schooling, you got one hell of a future when all this is over, y’know?”
Taking another slow drag, he exhaled a few seconds later with a grim-sounding sigh.
"And me, what do I got? I'm just some fuckin’ cabbie from Frisco. Nothin' special. Why the hell would a girl like you, who could have Gene Fuckin' Kelly if she wanted, want me? There’s a thousand other guys— classy, uptown types like your officer back there— who are better for you than I’ll ever be. You'll probably end up marryin' some big-shot attorney someday anyway. So I've been tryin' to stay away from you… and Jesus Christ, did I try!"
He shook his head again.
"Honestly Zees, stayin’ away from you was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do," he admitted. "And I couldn't even see it through 'cause I'm fuckin' selfish. 'Cause at the end of the day, I know I’m nowhere near good enough to call you mine, but goddamn it, Alix, I want to anyway!"
Alix’s vision began to blur and it felt like there was a burning lump in her throat that wouldn’t budge.
This was everything she'd ever wanted but it couldn't have come at a worse time. They were all jumping into a war zone any day now.
Should she tell him how she felt, despite knowing that one or both of them might not make it back home?
Should she open herself up to the possibility of letting him in, just to lose him?
She'd already lost her older brother to the war, could she stand to lose her boyfriend too?
She forced her gaze heavenward, warring internally with her head and heart until the tears passed. Finally gathering her courage, she slid over a little bit, inching closer to him like a bomb she was set to defuse.
Despite her nervousness, her heart had made its verdict clear from the get-go: 
Being his, even for a little bit, would be worth the risk.
"You are more than good enough, Joey," she murmured, tentatively reaching over to rest her hand on top of his before interlocking their fingers. "You're the only person I want."
He looked down at their intertwined fingers and back up to her eyes, searching her features fervently for any trace of deception. 
"No kiddin'? You really mean that?"
Alix nodded, beaming, and gave his hand a light squeeze.
"Of course I mean it! But we're still gonna have to keep things quiet, okay? I don't think either of us wants to get busted for fraternization."
 
Joe nodded in agreement, a lopsided grin lit up his face as the realization sank in: 
They were official. 
He looked more overjoyed than she'd ever seen him, more like a kid in a candy store than a soldier days away from war.  
"Still gonna be pretty fuckin' great though, even if we can't tell anybody we're going steady yet, huh, Zees?" 
Alix cocked her head curiously.
"I've been meaning to ask you what that means. I tried asking Muck because he speaks some German but he had no idea. You're always using it and for all I know, you could be calling me the world's biggest bitch in German or something." 
Joe chuckled.
"It's nothin' like that. Hell, it's not even German. But you're still gonna kick yourself when you find out."
Now Alix was really perplexed. 
"Why?" 
"Because it was right in front of you the whole time." 
"Stop speaking in riddles, you asshole," Alix pouted.
"Fine, fine, just 'cause it's you," Joe teased, his brown eyes sparkling. "It’s Yiddish. The word is Ziskeit but sometimes I’ll shorten it to Zees. Still means the same thing, which is ‘Sweetness’. But we also use it to mean someone you cherish, like a sweetheart.”
Alix blinked in surprise. 
“Wait...So you mean this whole time…?"
"I've been telling you how I feel for around six months now and you had no clue 'cause it was in Yiddish? Yeah." 
Alix giggled and nudged at his shoulder playfully with her own.
"I never took you for a sap, Joe Liebgott!"  
"Neither did I," he quipped as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "Guess you just bring out a different side of me, Zees." 
"Well that explains why Skip didn't recognize it then. He tried to tell me it meant 'Goose' at first and I told him he was full of shit."
Joe laughed. 
"Goose would be gandz. I can call you that instead if y-" 
"Joseph Liebgott, don't you dare."
The paratrooper jokingly pretended to mull it over for a minute before responding with a mischievous "No promises."
For the first time, Alix realized that her palms had been sweating from the nervousness.
Her first instinct was to wipe them off but she hesitated, biting her lip. A part of her knew she was being irrational but she worried if she let go, the spell would be broken and everything would be as it was before: Joe would leave again and it would be as though nothing between them had ever happened.
It would all have been just a dream.
But her palm was growing clammy and so grudgingly, she let go of his hand, waiting tensely for the other shoe to drop.
But Joe didn't disappear.
Instead, he draped an arm lovingly around her shoulders, resting his hand lightly on her tricep and Alix shifted so she could lean into him, releasing a sigh of relief she didn't realize she'd been holding.
Joe was kind enough not to acknowledge it.
"I didn't know you spoke Yiddish," Alix continued conversationally. "Seeing as you'd had some translation training, I always just assumed you spoke German."
"I speak both,” Joe replied as he absentmindedly traced little circles on Alix’s upper arm. “But German just feels more…distant, y’know? My family never uses it at home, just when we’re in public. We use Yiddish with the people closest to us since it’s a big part of our heritage. It  just feels… more meaningful, I guess, 'cause it's somethin' we don't use with everybody, y'know? Stop me if I'm not makin' any sense."  
“You’re making perfect sense, Joey,” she assured him softly. “And I’m honored that you use a Yiddish term of endearment for me. It means the world that you care that much."
Joe pressed a kiss to her temple.
"Why wouldn't I? I've only been sweet on you for what, six months now? I know people who got married in half that time!"
He chuckled.
"And don't worry, I got lots more pet names where Ziskeit came from too. We're gonna have you speakin' Yiddish like a pro by the time you meet my folks!"
Alix red lips quirked up into a smile.
"Yiddish is so beautiful, I can see why you hold it close. Honestly, English has never been strong enough to describe how I feel about you either, which is why I use Italian. Like, tesoro, which means treasure but we use it for the word Darling. And cucciolo, which is my other favorite. It reminds me of your adorable puppy eyes."
"I know what they mean," Joe divulged sheepishly, turning slightly pink. "I kinda asked Gonorrhea to translate for me 'cause I was hoping you felt the same as me but I was too chicken-shit to just ask ya in case I was wrong..."
"And you still didn't just tell me how you felt, even after you knew I felt the same?" Alix's eyes were huge.
"Yeah, 'cause I didn't believe him." Joe was cringing at his past self now. "I thought he was just fuckin' with me or somethin' 'cause there was no way in Hell a girl like you could ever feel that way about a guy like me."
He shook his head with a grin.
"I've never been so fuckin' glad to be wrong."
Alix was about to reply when a particularly strong gust of wind whipped through the nearby trees, stinging her bare arms with its chill. Starting to shiver in her spaghetti-strap gown, Alix silently cursed herself again for forgetting her fur and began rubbing her hands together to warm them. 
Having noticed her shiver, Joe immediately tugged his coat off and placed it around Alix’s shoulders. It was huge on her but the wool was cozy, still warm from Joe’s body heat. 
Hearing the approaching hum of voices from a distance, she hurriedly glanced over her shoulder before shrugging the coat off as a small pack of servicemen and their dates left the Crown, walking along the road behind them back to their billets. 
“C’mon Ziskeit,” Joe implored. “Put it on, will ya, before you catch a cold.”
Alix shook her head nervously, her eyes darting back to the group passing them by.
“What if someone sees?” 
“Let ‘em.” Joe shrugged. “They can’t write me up for givin’ a beautiful lady my coat when she’s cold, can they? Doesn't prove shit."
“Oh yeah?" Alix cocked an eyebrow slyly. "So did you let Mary wear your coat then too?”
Joe snorted. 
“You kiddin’ me? I wouldn’t even let her hold my jump wings.” 
Satisfied, Alix pulled the coat back on, enveloping herself in the warm wool. She was swimming in it, the thick material dwarfing her small frame like a sack.
The sleeves hung way past her hands and Joe stifled a laugh. 
"Jeez and I thought Perco made the coats look big!" 
"Oh so you let Perconte wear your coat too, huh?" Alix joked, a teasing glint in her dark eyes. "And here I thought I was special." 
Joe rolled his eyes playfully.
"You're a fuckin' smartass, d'you know that?" 
"Hey, you fell in love with me," Alix reminded him with a quick kiss on the cheek. "So you asked for it, Coat Whore.” 
Joe was about to respond when a commotion behind them cut him off. 
"In Banbridge Town in the County Down, one morning last July-" 
Both their heads snapped back toward the sound of the singing.
It was a clearly inebriated Joe Toye stumbling out of The Crown with an equally inebriated Don Malarkey by his side, the pair belting out a truly spectacular rendition of an Irish folk ballad while a bemused-looking Skip Muck was proudly harmonizing just behind them. 
"–down a bóithrín green came a sweet cailín and she smiled as she passed me by! She-" 
Alix grinned. Had it been any other night, she would've been right there with them. 
Her family's maid, Penelope, was originally from Ireland and she'd taught Alix several of her favorite folk songs as the pair hung wash together. Alix's mother, Clarissa, always scolded her for helping Penny with her chores because it "was beneath her as the lady of the house" but Alix didn't mind at all. 
On the contrary, she relished getting to swap stories and folk songs with the older girl, who had done so much more living in her 26 years than Alix had in her 23.
Penny taught her Irish folk tunes and Alix taught her some phrases in Italian to impress the Calabrian boy from the South side that Penny had her eye on.  It was like having a real friend, not like the sycophants at her boarding school who simply had to work their family’s connections into every conversation or they’d combust.
 
“–From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay, from Galway to Dublin town–” 
As the voices of her best friends slowly faded into the distance, Alix leaned her head on Joe’s shoulder and admired the beauty of the moment----
The chorus of chirping crickets, the faint quacking of the ducks in the shallows, the laughter of her best friends in the background, the soft glow of the moon on the water, the earthy smell of the rolling fields beyond the pond, the warmth of Joe’s body radiating through his clothes as he wrapped his arms around her.
They were going steady now.
Her heart was so full that it felt like it might burst through her chest.
All of the months of waiting and hoping had been worth it. She wanted to cry and shout and jump for joy at the same time. 
But as more and more people began to file from the doors of The Crown, Alix took a worried glance over at the worn watch on Joe's wrist. 
"Madonna mia," she exclaimed. "It's already 11 o'clock and I still need to review my cover story and dossiers before tomorrow!" 
Joe stood up and gallantly offered her his arm.
"Mind if I walk ya home then, Ziskeit? Call me a sap but I can't let my girl walk home alone at night, even if she is a spy. I'd still go outta my mind with worry." 
Alix stood as well, smoothing the skirt of her dress. 
"One condition." 
"Name it." 
"You stay the night. I could use some cuddles from my boyfriend while I'm reading up on all the people I have to kill."
The paratrooper gave her a lopsided grin.
"I was hoping you'd ask, Zees. After I drop you off, I just gotta run back to my place real quick so I can grab my ODs for tomorrow and I'll be right back over. Ya won't even know I'm gone. How does that sound?" 
Alix ecstatically linked her arm with his.
"Sounds perfect."
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shearbolt · 10 months
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A Godruto is living in my head mini-fic...
She stumbles down the walkway, the neon lights of Konoha’s nightlife reflecting off the wet pavement leftover from the late spring downpour that beat on the bar windows while Sarada sipped too much warm sake.
The girls are giggling, tripping, and finding their lack of coherence and coordination more hilarious by the moment. Their heels click against the cement as they trail behind Sarada, a beacon in their drunken haze.
The celebration had been in her honor, clinked cups and raised voices. Young men walking past slowed by the booth containing so many of the village’s elite kunoichi wearing far less than they did on the training grounds.
ChoCho in a little of-the-shoulder gold number with a plunging neckline, Wasabi wearing green fishnets beneath her ripped denim shorts, Namadia in a painted-on orange jumpsuit and Sumire wearing a too-short plaid skirt with hip-high boots.
Sarada’s striped tube top beneath her tight red dress is hidden by her green flack jacket, like a bride-to-be on a bar crawl with a cheap little veil pinned to her hair. Her hair is tied back in twin buns, ever-present red glasses crooked on her nose.
They’d hit one, two, three bars? Then, sat on a bench outside a convenience store, nibbling on warm onigiri in the hopes that starchy rice would soak up some of the alcohol clouding their heads.
The train station is on the other side of Senju Park, waiting to take them home. ChoCho to Mitsuki. Sumire to Kawaki. Namida and Wasabi to one another. And, Sarada back to her mother’s apartment and the childhood bedroom she still can’t escape from.
Unquestioningly, the girls follow her into the park. Raindrops drip off the new leaves of old trees, sending ripples through the puddles on the lamppost-lined walk.
“Congratulationssss!!!” ChoCho squeaks for the twentieth time that evening, stumbling forward to balance herself on Sarada. “Congratulations!” The other three echo behind them as the lamp to Sarada’s left flickers.
The sudden cessation of everything cuts clear through Sarada’s chest no matter how many times she’s experienced it before. The sound of shoes stop, the giggling breaths are gone, a single droplet falling from a tree freezes before her eyes.
Sarada twists out from the steady weight of ChoCho’s hands on her shoulders, turning to see her friend still as a statue, the eyeliner surrounding her creased eyes smudged from a long night out.
“Where are you?” Sarada shouts at the trees, only to be answered by a light chuckle from behind her. His bare feet, toenails black, dangle from a low branch as he smiles at her with a grin that seems to swallow his whole face.
“Congratulations!” Boruto chirps, beaming down at her with his mismatched eyes. The white robe he wears hangs open, exposing the dark blue geometric patterns swallowing his heart, running up his face to his horns.
She crosses her arms, glaring up at him. “I was just nominated by the village. I’m not a jounin yet.”
“But, you’re going to be!” he answers, hopping down to land on the ground in an elegant billow of robes.
“How do you—? Ugh, that’s right.” She glowers at his grin, so familiar that it was easy to forget the blond idiot knew all. The past, the present, the future. It all dwells within him at once.
“Hey, it’s annoying to me, too!” He responds to her thoughts, rubbing a finger beneath his nose as he speaks. “Do you think I like seeing everything but my own future?”
“I think you like being a know-it-all,” she shoots back, so easily falling into the dynamics of their younger selves that she forgets she’s twenty and a bit drunk and he’s… a rather obnoxious god. “Why are you even bothering me?”
He shrugs, hiding his hands in his long sleeves just like Mitsuki used to do. “Because I’m proud of you? Because I know how hard you worked to become the first jounin from our academy class?”
Sarada throws up her hands, all the questions she’d asked him a dozen times before bursting from her lips. “But, how can it be my hard work if it’s always happened to you?! If I was always going to be a jounin, what does anything I do matter? Will I still be Hokage if I stop trying now? Is the future already written so everything that will happen to me has actually already occurred for you?”
Boruto holds up his hands defensively, taking a step back. “Hey, I can’t tell you!”
“No! That’s not it…”
There’s something in the way he looks at her that makes Sarada narrow her eyes.
“Then, what is it, Boruto?” She puts her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Oh, because you’re a god, right? Can’t let us mere mortals in on any of your secrets?”
He scratches one of his horns, staring at the ground. “I told you a million times… I can’t see my own future.”
Sarada frowns. “I’m not asking you about your future.”
He looks up sheepishly, raising his thick yellow eyebrows. “Actually, I think you are.” Boruto takes a step forward, then another step forward, his feet somehow not touching the pavement as he glides towards her.
“I know this might sound strange, but in few weeks from… I can’t see anything that will happen to you, Sarada, and I never understood why until recently.” Little flecks of blue light illuminate his karma pattern as he nears her, the same shade as his intense gaze.
“What do you mean?” she asks as he gets too near, the feeling of overwhelming chakra, the lifeforce of the universe, beating at her senses, pulling her close while making her want to flee from its tremendous power.
He places his hand on her bare arm, electric sparks from his divine touch prickling her skin. “I think you’re my future, Sarada…”
She stares at him, unsure if she’s overwhelmed by his aura or his words. “What?”
“You’re my future,” he says again, watching her with his sad eyes, one pale lavender, the other still the brilliant blue she’s always known.
Her pulse pounds in her throat as she stares at him, both wanting to believe his words and not understanding the possibilities rippling beneath them. “Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?”
His hand drops from her arm. “As always, I do.”
Her heart sinks as he takes a step back, the edges of his body fading into curls of white clouds, knowing he’ll never be able to stay.
His hands and feet blur, slowly dissipating while his eyes remain locked on hers. “I guess I just wanted to let you know… Whenever you’re ready, I’m yours.”
She stumbles forward, grabbing for him only for her hand to be met with vapor.
“By the way, your hair is really cute like that,” he adds a second before his lips disappear, giving her one wink, then he’s gone.
Oof!”
Sarada spins around to find ChoCho sprawled out on the ground behind her, the other girls staring at their fallen friend. Amber eyes glare at her.
“How did you move so fast?”
The future jounin shrugs, helping her friend back to her feet. Together they stumble through the park to the train station, no one noticing Sarada’s sudden sobriety.
~end
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poem-today · 10 months
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A poem by Maggie Smith
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Accidental Pastoral
I must have just missed a parade— horse droppings and hard candy in the road, miniature American flags staked into the grass, plastic chairs lining the curb down this
two-lane highway, 36 in the open country, briefly Main Street in town. When I was small, I sat on a curb only a dozen miles from here, my feet in the ashtray-dirty gutter, and watched
stars-and-stripes girls wheeling their batons, slicing the sun-dumb air into streamers. I can still hear the click of cellophaned candies on pavement. I didn’t want to
leave town, not then, and I never left. I am not a parade, my one car passing through Centerburg, Ohio, too late. The chairs are empty. The children are unwrapping golden butterscotches
in the cool, shuttered houses. But look up—the clouds are stories tall, painted above Webb’s Marathon, and flat-bottomed as if resting on something they push against though it holds them.
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Maggie Smith
Maggie Smith on her poem: I was driving home from Gambier, Ohio ... and I passed through Centerburg. They had just celebrated something called the Heart of Ohio Festival that morning—I remember seeing the signs. The horse droppings, flags, and chairs were things I saw as I passed through town after the festivities. There were huge, flat-bottom clouds above a gas station, Webb’s Marathon, and it looked like they were resting on top of something. 
More poems by Maggie Smith are available through her website.
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sailor-toni · 1 year
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Danny Fenton Football Captain and the East Coast Vampire CH 1
You can also read it on A03, FF.NET, and on Wattpad
Chapter One: The Trainwreck House
The house was at the end of a long driveway off the main road in old Amity Park. Giant oak trees lined each side of the pavement, following the black stripe till it reached the house. The giant oaks framed the faded brown roof and broken windows with their bold yellow fall leaves. Danny hopped off his old bike, and pushed it the rest of the way. The bike had served him since middle school and still bore the scars. Glitter dollar store NASA and astronaut stickers were stuck to its frame. Several had lost most of their color turning brown yellow or blue from the past summer suns. The sun of the present had its fading sunlight reflected off those stickers. Creating spectacles of rainbow on the ground that followed where his bike went. 
The further we went, the quieter his surroundings got, the noise of the city was still there, but it sounded like it was from another room or another time. Then he came upon the house itself.  The house was a train wreck painted sickly yellow and left to die. The sunset set the broken windows ablaze with light scattering their reflections on the leaf covered ground below. Danny stuck his tongue out in disgust. The smell matched the building and he assumed it would give him a headache. The front door swung with the light breeze, each time emitting a loud creek. Danny winced, then he pulled out his phone and opened up the Discord App. 
SpaceGhostDanny: I’m here. Where are you guys? 
SayonaraPaulieCat: The girls and I are still getting ready! We will be there soon!
TouchDownHero: I lost the board. 
ThisSunnyBoi: I’m almost there, I stopped by Nasty Burger for dinner. What do you mean you lost the board? 
TouchDownHero: Look I put it on my bed and now it’s gone. 
SayonaraPaulieCat: Not again!
SpaceGhostDanny: If Kwan is still in town he can get a new one from Walmart. 
ThisSunnyBoi: Yeah! 
TouchDownHero: No, a normal board won’t work. It has to be this vintage one I found! 
SayonaraPaulieCat: Val says she is calling BS
SpaceGhostDanny: Hey Kwan if I pay you back later can you grab me a nasty double burger, extra secret nasty sauce, a milkshake and large fries. 
ThisSunnyBoi: Sure! 
SayonaraPaulieCat: Oh! Star wants a nasty kid’s meal with BBQ sauce and the girl’s toy and a coke, Val wants a triple nasty burger with fries, no drink. Can you get me large fries and sparkling water? 
 ThisSunnyBoi: Uh you have the money for this?
SayonaraPaulieCat: I just Venmo-ed you. 
ThisSunnyBoi: Okay order is right up! 
Kwan added a few wide mouth smile emoji’s after his message. Danny sighed, Dash was right. Kwan did text like a white mom. He shoved the phone into his Casper High letterman jacket and took another look at the puke house. 
A chill shot up his spine as a woman stared back at him. Her skin was melting off her body like wax. The green skin dripped off her sharp chin and splashed onto his feet. But her eyes. They weren't there, instead they had been replaced with two small red flames, like someone had shoved candles into her eye sockets. 
“H-hi h-how can I h-h-Elp you?” Danny took a step back but the woman grabbed his arm and yanked him closer. The lack of breath on his ear terrified him. 
“Get out before HE sees you” Danny was sent flying back, his back crashing into his bike. He shoved himself up and threw his fist up, but the woman was gone. The only sign of her was his own breath escaping his lips in small puffs of smoke. 
“I don’t know who you are Lady but this is supposed to be my night off,” There was no response. “Hey!” Danny called out louder. Wisp of green began to gather in his palm. He cautiously approaches the house, watching for any sign of movement in the leaves. Green vapors began to grow and swirl in his palms, as he moved towards the center of the driveway. 
A sharp and cold wind whipped around him, blowing the golden leaves below him into a frenzy. Until he was in the center of a golden tornado. Splotches of black and red appeared between the holes of gold. The vapor in his palm sharpened into spikes of green energy. Each spike was hurled at the splotches, each one missing as she moved through the leaves. The house’s front door was swinging rapidly with the wind, creaking back and forth. 
“Young Halfa,” she said. “Your life will be in great danger if he finds you, so acknowledge this threat and-” The wind was now a tornado, sucking the air out of its center, choking him. Then as suddenly as it came it stopped. Leaves fell around him as the woman stood in front of the house. “Leave,” Danny shot another energy spike at her. She tilted her head and the train wreck of the house took the abuse in her stead. “Please,” she begged. 
“Who?” Danny gasped out, but the woman was gone. The front door slammed shut. The wind was gone completely now. Not even the leaves still on the trees moved around him. 
Slowly getting up Danny brushed himself off, his red letterman jacket was thankfully unscathed. He looked at the door, then around him, and finally at the door again. It was closed, the horrible creaking from before was gone, but he had to know. So, he began to slowly approach it. Each step closer sent his nerves on edge. His breath was coming out in a long puff of smoke, and he could feel the goosebumps on his arm raise up like small mountains. His fingers brushed the frosty cold doorknob, shocking him. Forcing his arm forward again, the metal didn’t sting his fingers a second time, but the hair on his body rose with the wave of goosebumps. 
“Hey Fenton! What are you doing? Trying to get a sneak peek?” Danny jumped, the green vapors became a mist around his hands. Ready to strike, he turned to see Kwan Seok walking up to him. Kwan's red ten-gear mountain bike was propped up next to Danny’s. Its metal basket was over filled with drinks and Nasty Burger bags. 
“Kwan, we have to get out of here, “Danny jogged to his friend, hiding his hands in his coat pocket.
“What why? I just got here,” Kwan said. 
“This place just doesn’t feel right”
“Well duh!” Kwan rolled his eyes. 
“Hun?” Danny looked at his friend with a dumbfounded look. 
“It’s an abandoned house from the 1800’s, of course it won’t feel right to you. You're not used to it, plus it's all run down and stuff, so it looks gross as well.” 
“That’s- that’s not what I mean dude. I mean there is something wrong with this place.”
“What? Like a ghost?”
“Um, yeah?” 
“This whole town is filled with ghost dude, plus isn’t that the reason we're here? To talk to the dead and stuff?” Kwan wasn’t wrong. Dash had invited them here to see if they could talk to the ghost of the old mansion. 
“Okay, but I don’t think we are going to be talking to Casper the friendly ghost here. This thing might attack us or something.” 
“Are you scared Fenton?”
“No!”
“Awww is our captain scared of a little ghost? Dude your parents are like crazy ghost hunters how can you be scared of a ghost?” 
“I’m not scared dude.” 
“Don’t worry. I know you're scared but dude, the Kwan-ster is here to protect you! Plus,” Kwan slapped his arm around Danny’s shoulder “if a ghost does start to cause trouble, we can just use Dash as a meat shield. This was his idea anyways” The two snickered at the mental image of their blond friend being held up like a shield. 
“What are you guys laughing about?” Behind them arrived Valerie Gray and Star Morninglory. Yes, that is Star’s legal name. Her parents were new-age spiritualists in the 80’s but now all they do is smoke pot and worship Elon Musk from their three garage townhouse. 
“We were talking about using Dash as a meat shield if anything goes wrong!” Kwan yelled out. 
“Ooh that sounds like a great idea, count me in!” Star showed back. 
“Count me in two.” Valerie jest. Star stood on the back of Valerie’s bike, her pink converse supported by two small bars on Valerie’s back wheels. Paulina Sanchez rode up behind them in a pink motorized scooter. Little pairs of pink pom-poms hung from her handlebars. 
“Ooooh! I call using him as a meat shield first!” She yelled.
“No way, it was my idea first so Fenton and I get to use him first.”
“But you boys are already so strong and big. Shouldn’t you protect the ladies first?” 
“What do you think Fenton?” Kwan asked.
“We should get Dash first.”
“Danny!” Paulina yelled as she stopped right in front of him. Her long curly hair looked perfect. No Paulina was always perfect, and today she was wearing that pink v-shaped crop top. “You wouldn't protect me from the ghost?”
Danny forced his eyes up “I would. That’s why you would get Dash after we use him.”
“That’s right Danny!” Kwan laughed.
“Ugh you boys.” Paulina rolled her eyes.
“Yo! Speaking of Dash, where the hell is he?” Valerie spoke up. She had her hair in a tight bun above her head, and was wearing a bright orange tank top and denim shorts. 
“Is he still looking for the board?” Star stepped off the bike, almost falling over in the process. 
“Ugh, it's just like him to lose it.” Valerie scoffed. Parking her bike next to the others. 
“Let’s just have a picnic until he gets here then, Kwan did you get the food?”
“Yep it's right here.”
Star pulled out a large quilted blanket from her star-shaped backpack. The quilt was covered in flowers and butterflies in tacky orange and pink, but no one seemed to mind as they sat down and grabbed their meals from Kwan. Their conversation and inside jokes slowed down as the gang shoved food down their mouths. Danny sat between Paulina and Valerie, while Kwan sat next to Star. The two had been dating for almost a year and it was still stomach churning to watch them together. Their lovey dovey sweet talk could give a puppy cavities, every event they went to they wore matching or color coordinated outfits, even now they both wore spooky black shirts under their red and white jackets. And worst of all, they were a packaged deal. Everywhere Star went, Kwan came as well.
Kwan smirked at him. Danny frowned and munched down on his double nasty burger. Paulina and Valerie were almost complete opposites. Paulina was the head cheerleader with the personality to match. Everything was pink or Barbie related, today she even had pink butterfly clips in her beautiful waist length hair. Meanwhile Valerie was the head of the volleyball team and track team. Her body was toned to perfection and looked like it could crush him. But she still wore makeup and had beaded friendship bracelets hanging over her sweat bands. Both were some of the strongest people Danny knew. And he had a major crush on both. His face buried every time his elbow knocked against one of theirs, or when he reached for a napkin and Paulina’s hand brushed his. 
“Oops! Sorry you go first,” Her voice was like a melody leaving her sweet pink lips. Just being in between them allowed him to forget about the ghost. Oh! The ghost! He took a peek at the train wreck house, and he saw a pair of red eyes disappear from the upstairs broken window. 
“Hey if Dash doesn't come we could head down to the roller skate rink.” He said, glancing away from the ghost. 
“I don’t know, exploring this house could be cool. We could film it and put it on YouTube.” Valerie said.
“Oh I always wanted to do urban exploring!” Star said.
“What if the house falls apart or falls on you?” Danny said
“We can call 911,” Danny accepted Star’s answer. 
“Still I don’t-” 
“Look there’s Dash!” Kwan motioned his friend over.
Dash ran up the driveway, the Ouija board tucked under his arm. “I found it!” he said, holding it up in the air. Everyone gave a quick cheer, some holding up their sodas, others returning to their meals. 
“Did you guys get me anything?” Dash asked. 
“No. You didn’t ask bro.”
“What! But I had to find the stupid board!”
“Calm down Dash, you can have my fries,” Danny handed his fries over to dash. The hulking football star groaned before he joined them. An annoyed expression on his face as he munched on the fries. 
“So you wanna explain why it had to be that Ouija board and not like, something from the dollar store?” Valerie asked.
“This one is a family heirloom. My great Nana told me they smuggled this over when the Nazi’s started bombing France. It’s been in my family since the 1600’s or something like that, and I figured since it’s so old it has to work. We just, uh, have to be careful, my Great-Nana will kill me if this gets damaged.” 
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this then. I wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of great-grandma-Baxter.” 
“Oh Danny cut it out. We all agreed to do this, it's too late to back out now” Paulina snapped. 
“Are you scared Danny?” Dash said. 
“NO! I’m not scared.” 
“Aw it's okay Danny Valerie is here to be the brave one tonight.” Star and Valerie burst out into laughter. 
“Hey don’t forget about me.” Dash flexed his muscles. 
“Pff as if,” 
“What?” 
“Do you remember last year at the Halloween fair? You screamed like a girl when that clown came up behind you,” Valerie snickered. 
“Hey, we all saw It. Clowns are scary. And whatever, are you guys ready to go in or not?” Dash said. 
The sun was starting to set below the horizon, the shadows around them were merging into big swaths of darkness. The houses’ windows were now completely black, like a void had taken over the walls of the house, and watched their every move. Dash tried the front door, first gently pulling on it, then yanking it, then he used his whole body to pull it open. 
“I think it’s locked.” Paulina said. 
“Then maybe we should-” 
“NO!” Everyone cut Danny off. 
Dash motioned for Kwan, and together the two boys grasped the handle and pulled for dear life. But the door refused to budge. Staying back with the girls, Danny whipped his head around for any sign of the ghost. CRACK! The boys fell over the steps with the door handle still in their hands. Without its rusted handle or lock, the door swung open with a long high pitch creek.
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seveneyesoup · 2 years
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poisonous frog from the front porch. not a leopard frog but a pickerel frog, rana palustris. the way to tell is the bands on the legs - pickerel frogs have banded legs, while leopard frogs have spotted ones. these guys are named for the pickerel, a freshwater fish.
[ID: a brown frog with dark brown squarish spots and light brown stripes along the back and side. it sits on brown pavement against painted white bricks. end ID]
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