#Flex Seal Family of Products

[flexsealfamilyofproductsfan]

I am a man who loves the Flex Seal Family of Products

Flex Seal and the Flex Seal Family of Products are my favorite things. I love them so much. I love Flex Seal, Flex Paste, Flex Shot, etc. btw I am sexually attracted to them please don't hate.

DNI:

Flex Seal Family of Products haters

That is all

[sea-lanterns]

CAR WASH

synopsis: your hot new neighbor helps wash your car

featuring: arlecchino

rating: 18+ nsfw (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab female reader, public sex (you guys do it on top of your car), pet names, oral (reader recieving), teasing, biting, licking, mentions of a tongue piercing, reader wears a sundress.

art credits: bai lijin among mortals

When you first moved into the neighborhood, your new neighbor; Arlecchino, was watching you move in from the corner of her lawn. Arms folded and lips sealed tight under the teeth of her grin, she watched you closely as you helped your parents carry in boxes from within the crowded moving truck, eyes locked onto the shape of your ass whenever you bent down to pick something up, and following your strides whenever you walked outside. You noticed her, you definitely did, but instead of getting too upset, you figured you’d give her a little show as you innocently winked at her before going back into your new house to drop your belongings off. 

Oh, you’ve caught her attention now. Much more than you did a few moments ago as the second your father came out to carry the heavier boxes, Arlecchino stepped forward and offered to help speed up the process. It was around this time you came back outside and spotted her helping your father lift some of the heavier belongings. Toned muscles stiffening as she lifted them with ease, along with a heavy grunt emitted from her lips that made you turn your attention to her further. 

She was…incredibly toned for a woman of her stature, as when she walked by the pavement to help carry the boxes in, she brushed by you and smirked when she saw you staring awestruck as her strength. Even flexing a little when she switched to one hand to carry the heavier box. Little did you know however, that this would not be the last time Arlecchino would be helping your family, or the last time she’d show her strength to you… 

Whenever it rains in the summer it gets drastically humid. And drastically messy… Your car was absolutely covered in stained water spots and your dad was not happy at the look. He was about to go drive to some cheap automatic drive thru to thoroughly wash his car, but Arlecchino caught wind of this and smirked, offering to wash his car for him.

Huh, that’s surprising. Usually Arlecchino doesn’t do favors for anybody… Though, unbeknownst to your father, she had another goal in mind behind that convincing smile…

A goal that involves you…

After a few negotiations with her in terms of payment and certain cleaner products, your parents decided to go on their annual Costco trip in their other car, which meant they’d be gone for at least a few hours. Before they left however, they told you that your neighbor Arlecchino would be washing the family car in their driveway, and that if she needed anything from the house, you’d be there to assist her. 

Oh, you’d definitely assist her alright…

Which is why you were watching her clean from the upstairs window of your bedroom, letting your eyes trail over her toned, sweaty body. All hot from the sun beating down on her back, as sweat formed at her brow from the summer-buzzing heat of the sun. 

Arlecchino was only wearing a black tank top and some gym shorts at the time, showing off her chiseled stomach that held the faintest outline of what appeared to be abs. Even if she didn’t have them, it was clear that the woman worked out as her stomach looked straight out of a model’s magazine. A sight that almost made you drool because wow, was she flexing on purpose…? Perhaps she was, I mean…there’s no way someone could stretch so much in a span of 5 minutes…

You noticed her wiping the sweat off her brow with a towel, looking fatigued as you had the idea to treat her to something. Going downstairs to pour a glass of lemonade for the hardworking woman, you went outside and set the pitcher down on a nearby table, walking over to her with a smile.

“…Hey,” Arlecchino grins, flashing you a snide smile when she sees you.

“Hey.” You responded back, trying to match her vibe as you handed her the glass. “Lemonade? You’ll die of heatstroke otherwise…”

“Hm. How sweet of you…” she mumbles, taking the glass and downing half of it in three large gulps, some of the liquid trekking past the corners of her mouth and trickling down her jaw. “Mm…thanks sweetie,” she sighs, handing you the glass as she went back to work, wiping the stray lemonade drops with the back of her hand.

‘Well shit, that was hot wasn’t it?’ Apparently your body also agreed as you felt a strange churning in the core of your stomach. A naughty little thought popping into your brain as you bit your lip and walked over to sit at your patio table.

“…Tch, is the princess enjoying the show?” Arlecchino scoffs, a crude smirk adorning her face. “How cute. Just sit still and look pretty, I got this…”

With that, Arlecchino reached over to grab her sponge and dunk it in the bucket of sudsy water. Long, slender fingers squeezing the sponge in a way that made your heart quicken, as she smacked it on the roof of the hood to begin cleaning. Scrubbing precisely to get rid of every stain and imprint and arching her back over to reach all the cracks and crevices.

You crossed your legs to satisfy the tingling you felt within the core of your hips. Eyes trained to roam over how concentrated and focused she was in giving your car the best wash it could possibly receive. God, you wished she’d focus on you as intently as the car, thoughts wandering to how her fingers would grip you like the sponge she was holding. Squeeze you like the bubbles that were coming out with each grab. The thought made your cunt twitch with anticipation as you couldn’t help but subtly grind against the patio seat, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

Ah, but Arlecchino is as attentive as ever. Watching your minuscule movements with a keen eye and smirking to herself at your discomfort.

“You alright there, babe?”  She teases, running a tongue over her lips. “You’re lookin’ a lil hot and bothered. You could take a sip of my drink if you’d like, I don’t mind sharing with you…” 

“Oh?” You raised a brow at her words and snickered. “You’re not worried about germs?” 

Arlecchino lets out a small scoff and grins. “I don’t mind a little bacteria, babe. Sharing with you would mean I get an indirect kiss…” She chuckles darkly and slaps a wet rag against the hood of the car, the sound making you flinch as she wipes it over the surface to spread the suds. Geez…you wondered if she’d treat you as roughly as the car she was cleaning right now…

“Do you flirt with all your patrons…?” You ask with a laugh, leaning back against the chair lazily. “You seem like the playboy type…”

“Please, I don’t flirt with just anybody…” she chuckles, wiping the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. “…Just the girls that look pretty in a sundress.”

You look down and realize that you were coincidentally wearing a sundress. Arlecchino smirks when she spots you looking down to check, and waves a hand over for you to come. “Looks like you realized. Come, help me with this part. I promise I won’t dirty that pretty little dress of yours…”

What a lie that was.

What started as Arlecchino bending over behind you to help you clean the car escalated to subtle, wet touches that caressed your bare skin. As her taller body hovered over yours behind you, you felt the fabric of her shorts press up against your ass, pelvis bumping into yours closely as she helped wipe down some cleaner. 

“You okay?” She’d whisper huskily into your ear, the bare stomach of her tank top pushing roughly against your back. “You’ve been scrubbing the same spot for the past minute or so…”

“Yeah? Well you’ve been rubbing up against me for the past minute or so too…” you argue sarcastically, a mean smile appearing on your face. Arlecchino chuckles at your sass and lightly smacks the outer part of your thigh, a gasp escaping your lips from the sudden harsh treatment. “The pretty girl has some kick in her words…” she smiles, “that’s okay…I can handle a little spice…” 

With that, she flips you over so you could lay back against the hood of the car. Some of the wet soap residue clinging to your back as she holds you down with her body. 

“…You’re gonna dirty the car again.” You chuckle. 

“Hah, like I care…” she grins.

Calloused hands roaming over your hips, she pressed your body flush with her hips and began grinding your pelvises together to start a friction that made your insides burn. The black nail-polished tips of her fingers prodding up your sundress and pushing it back to rub at your panties.

“You’re okay with this, right? Just making sure…?” Arlecchino murmurs, looking down at you with concerned eyes.

“Well we’re already doing it so might as well…” you chuckle, letting her lift your legs up from the ground below and wrap it around her waist. “That’s good…” she sighs, before that coy smile returns to her face, fingers reaching up to play with the elasticity of your underwear before pulling it down. “Because we are definitely gonna have to clean the car again…”

She leans in to kiss you feverishly, almost like a bite as she dives her tongue into your mouth to French kiss you into submission. Hands hiking up your dress to expose your naked thighs to the outside world, and cupping your cunt with her palm, rubbing it until she felt it dampen under her touch.

“Don’t make too much noise now…we’re outside after all,” she purrs, tossing your panties to the ground as she continues rubbing your folds for all to see. Two fingers sliding down to seperate them slightly and gaze at the erotic sight before her. How naughty…

Arlecchino bit her lip when she saw how soft and aching you looked for her, so exposed and scandalous as the thought of doing this out in public further turned her on. The risk of doing such an indecent act outside spurring the woman more as she leans down to kiss your neck, fingers starting to prod a little deeper at your entrance and gather slick between her polished nails.

You moaned at the feeling, avoiding eye contact as she spread your legs with her other hand and playfully nipped at your skin. Laughing a little at the annoyed look you gave her and grinning sleazily at your pout. 

“What? Don’t like my teeth?” She laughs hazily, tilting her head before biting her lip to show how sharp they were. “Better get used to it. You’ll be feeling these somewhere else…”

You shivered at her words and felt heat rise to your cheeks when she lowered herself to meet eye level with your clit. Giving it a sweet lick of her tongue before diving forward to stroke circles between your folds with the tip. Holding your hips firmly with her hands to stop you from shaking, as you groaned and bucked your hips against her face. 

“Mmmh…Arle…” you groaned. Her tongue so warm and rough as it caressed your clit harshly, hands reaching down to grip her short hair in yours and push her deeper into your cunt. “Haah…this is so messy…our poor car…” you attempt to giggle, before cutting yourself off with your own moans as she starts sucking deeper into your folds. 

“We could always clean it up again…” she mumbles, pinching your clit with her teeth and causing you to yelp. “…So be quiet and just enjoy.”

You whimper as she prods the tip deeper into your cunt, feeling the soft flesh of your walls as she circles it to feel every twitch of your warmth. You let your mind wander to how good it might feel if she got a tongue piercing to boot with that rough tongue of hers. Maybe you’ll talk about it with her later…after all, she did seem like the type to enjoy piercings…

Arlecchino seemed to notice you spacing out and gently flicked her tongue up to push against your clit. A gasp emitting from your lips as she pushes further into your folds. 

“Mm…what are you thinking about in that pretty little head of yours…” she grins lazily, tongue slowly dragging against your clit as she watches you squirm. “I hope it’s only thoughts of me…”

She grins and presses her tongue flat, feeling the heat of your skin grind against her lips. A moan riveting itself through your throat as you felt yourself come undone, thighs twitching as you cream all over the rough expanse of her tongue. “Felt good huh…?”

You groan and look down to look at the sticky mess you made all over Arlecchino’s face. Some of it dripping down onto the hood of the car and staining the surface you both worked so hard to clean. The woman above you noticed your worried eyes and chuckled darkly, grabbing your wrist and planting a soft kiss against it. 

“Don’t worry babe, we have time to clean it again…”

[flexsealfamilyofproductsfan]

My beautiful beloved Flex Seal

[flexsealfamilyofproductsfan]

I have no clue what this means. Do you and your best friend wrap Flex Tape around your hands when you do your secret handshake? This is very intriguing to a Flex Connoisseur such as myself, since I have never heard of Flex Tape or any of the Flex Seal Family of Products used in a secret handshake before. Also, if you loved Flex Tape like you claim then you would have rigged the poll for Flex Seal to win, checkmate buddy.

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

lmao I used to have a binge eating disorder and ate like 7k calories a day. Crazily enough when I started eating a normal amount of food for my gender/height/activity level I lost weight and my sleep apnea went away, I can now walk up the stairs in my house without excruciating pain, and I have 500x the energy that I used to and my brain fog is 99% gone. But I'm sure being 190lbs overweight and eating until I felt like I was going to vomit was totally healthy and my pain was just a manifestation of my internalized fatphobia or w/e lmao

People must have somehow magically evolved to be morbidly obese in only a few decades, it can't possibly have anything to do with insane portion sizes, mass production and availability of unhealthy food, a food pyramid sponsored by companies wanting to sell you their trash and food now being full of sugar, corn syrup, artificial colors and other garbage. We're also so magical that being fat is totally fine for us unlike the thousands of other animal species in existance.

Keto and intermittent fasting literally saved my life. I was able to go down from 10 DIFFERENT MEDICATIONS to only needing 4 of them. I've literally talked to hundreds of people with the exact same story.

“I traded my BAD eating disorder for a GOOD eating disorder” is not the flex you think it is anon.

By your own admission your issue was having an eating disorder, not being fat, if you think every fat person also has an eating disorder you are projecting your own trauma and insecurities onto other people because you apparently think your experiences are universal. Most fat people do not eat until they puke actually.

The reason obesity is dangerous for a lot of animals is because, get this, animal physiology and adaptations vary greatly between species. Do you think you have the same needs as a flea? Bears, seals, whales, hippos, boars, and several other species have to carry a lot of fat to survive. Humans are bipedal and have fat stores that build up away from organs and joints. This keeps a lot of the strain off the back and prevents many of the issues you will see in quadrupeds and birds from emerging.

Ease and rate of storing fat in humans is largely due to genetics. People who were born by a starving mother naturally hold fat more easily because this is an adaptation to prevent starvation in famines. Increased fat stores is also hereditary so people who had ancestors that were starving will carry weight more often than those whose ancestors had an easy access of food for several generations. Because this was something humans adapted to over the course of millennia as nomadic groups who had to deal with inconsistent food availability due to different climates, flooding cycles, droughts, etc, humans did in fact evolve to have a fluid metabolism and hold stores of fat just fine. If you think fat people are a new invention, I have insane news for you about noble and royal families in Europe for hundreds of years. Being fat was a status symbol to show off how much money you had and that you had no need to toil in fields. This is documented very well.

Keto and [starving yourself] is not healthy. If your entire argument is that being some arbitrary level of “overweight” is unhealthy, you should consider not promoting a diet that causes you to have calcium absorption complications, chronic arterial diseases, kidney stones, and other serious issues long term. Anorexia is not a health trick either, once again, that is an eating disorder.

[oldguardhc]

Random Old Guard HC 

Not only do the OG have random skills from living so long, they also are obsessed with random bits of technology.  Also, it is not the technology that one would expect.

For example, Nicky loves micro fiber towels.  One of the OG (cannot decide who) loves the mid day, late night infomercials and loves to buy “As seen on TV” crap.

I’m adding stuff to this submission bc it’s too great not to: Joe is definitely the one who buys “As seen on TV” crap. You know this man has a bottle of Flex Seal somewhere. Blood on your favorite shirt? No problem with the power of Oxi Clean! Nicky, don’t use that microfiber towel, use the Shamwow! Booker bought Joe a Pillow Pet because he thought he finally found the one product on TV Joe would hate. Joke’s on him though because Pedro is part of the family now.

Booker loves nightlights. You would not believe how many times you can stub your toe in 200 years. Sure it heals in seconds but just because they heal doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt like a bitch every single time.

Andy likes fiber lasers, I mean she really likes them. She was a blacksmith at one point and so she’s had to engrave a fair share of things in her life. She was pretty good at it but it really wasn’t her thing. So when finer lasers came along, she fell just a tiny bit in love. The detail it could produce. The speed, precision, she made a bunch of swords just to play around with her new toy.

[cherrywoes]

ni. (acanthus.)

KAKASHI BRAIDED HER HAIR for her when it became evident she couldn’t do it by herself. Despite the extensive wrap job he had done on her arm, soaked in antibacterial gel and burn spray, he had been too late to catch the damage to her nerves. What little medical ninjutsu he did know had salvaged the damaged muscle underneath and prevented boils, but the upper layers of her skin had been utterly ruined. She had range of motion, but it came with pain, and flexing of sensitive muscles that weren’t quite ready to be moving yet. So, he braided her hair—it was not as neat as if she had done it herself, was messy with inexperience, but it kept the longer lengths out of her face and, for the most part, she looked like Sakura again.

She didn’t ask him where he had learned to braid. She also didn’t ask him about the scroll he tucked into the bag he had packed for her—filled with spare clothes, necessities, anything she could wish for as a girl going into virtual exile—that looked suspiciously like a summoning scroll, the wooden end ornate and the Hatake clan symbol carved into it. It looked nothing like the summoning scroll he used for his dogs, but she kept her inquiries to herself and focused on the mission statement she held in her burn free hand.

“Amegakure and Kumogakure.” Sakura traced the names written in red with a single finger. He paused from where he was tucking pre-made seal papers and explosive tags into a side pocket, turning his head back towards her incrementally to indicate she had his attention. “The last I heard we were on neutral terms with both villages. What happened?”

Kakashi hummed as he unzipped the secondary larger section of her pack and tossed a handful of nutrigrain bars inside, along with five bottles of water and a flask that she assumed was also filled with water. She watched him sneak a tin of jasmine pearls in there as well. “No one knows. One day, out of the blue, they declared they had an alliance and set their sights on Suna, Iwa, and Konoha. Tsunade didn’t think they had enough shinobi to do it—it turns out they did, and in vast droves too. They’d been planning it for a while, I think.”

“But Konoha hasn’t declared war with them; why not?” Sakura rolled the mission statement back up against her thigh, using her hand to tie the tiny string together messily. “We’re allies with Suna and Iwa, we should be helping them.”

Sakura forgot, momentarily, that she had no say in matters like war, or even Konoha at all, and chided herself mentally for forgetting such an important fact. She was as good as dead to Konoha, and she knew they hoped she would die on the battlefield in the end.

She, secretly, hoped she did too.

“We are. Discreetly.” Kakashi zipped up the pack and hefted it experimentally. Deeming it light enough for her to carry, he set it beside the door frame and took a seat beside her on his raggedy couch. It was green, littered with claw marks and obscure stains that looked like blood, and had Gai’s taste written all over it. “It would be illegal for normal Konoha nin to do what the War Ops do in wartime. There are rules, sanctions that prevent unjust actions between nations. The War Ops are similar to ROOT, but far worse, in my opinion. I was never part of it, but Genma was, at some point. They forsake the village in the name of the village, sabotage what they can, kill who they can, and when the war is done, whoever’s left alive will return and reinstate their Konoha citizenship, wiped clean of their crimes during the war.” He paused, then, his only visible eye filled with guilt and sadness. “But you won’t be able to come back when it’s all said and done. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I have no other choice, do I?” Sakura shrugged lamely, ignoring the pull of her skin beneath the bandages. “It’s alright, Kakashi. I deserve it for everything I’ve done. If they consider my crimes paid for dying on the battlefield, then that’s fine. I don’t see any reason to try and escape it.”

He was quiet for a moment, looking away from her and through his living room window, just barely lit with the first rays of dawn. She had maybe an hour before she had to report to the rear gates towards Amegakure. “Konoha will miss you. They might not realize it, but when they need you most, they will remember what you did for them.”

“Other than killing their friends and family?” She raised an eyebrow and laughed, but it was a pathetic imitation of one. “Maybe. But it’ll be too late by then.”

“Maybe.”

Sakura reported to the gates when Kakashi couldn’t put it off any longer. She carried her pack on one shoulder, wearing the uniform that had been delivered to his front door in the dead of night while they had slept. There were no identifying crests on the dark flak jacket, no familiar stitching in the hems or seams, and the fabric was foreign, exported from the hidden island nation of Hanagakure. While it was comfortable and stretchy, the long sleeves pulled and dragged on her bandages, irritating the previously calm skin. The rest looked like standard ANBU attire, save for the mask they had given her when she arrived at the gate. It was black and white, opposite of the red and white that ANBU typically wore, and depicted the face of a crow upon it: a silent jab that crows brought death, just as Sakura brought death to her teammates.

She may have found it funny had it been happening to someone else.

“Be safe,” Kakashi said as two War Ops members moved to flank her cautiously. There was no need for farewells; they had already said them the previous night. The dew on the trees evaporated as the sun rose higher in the sky, as the village woke and got ready for a new day. “And take care, Sakura.”

“Thank you, Kakashi-sensei. For everything.” And then she was snapping on the mask with one hand, pinning her braid to the back of her head, and was gone, vanishing into the trees with the two War Ops members as if she had never been there at all.

“Wait!” Ino Yamanaka’s shrill yell broke through the admittedly peaceful silence the morning had brought. Birds startled at the sound and took to the sky. She looked worse for wear, her once neat hair bedraggled and frizzy, dark circles lining her eyes. Behind her, following at a slightly more hasty pace than he was used to, was Sai, his pale face pulled into an expression of aggrievement—Kakashi had never seen such emotion displayed so openly before, at least from the former ROOT member. “Shit! Kakashi, did I miss her?”

“Yo.” He gave them a two fingered salute and nodded his head towards the trees. “If you had been a few seconds earlier, you would have caught her.”

“Damnit.” Ino sunk to her knees on the ground, dirtying her skirt and tears beginning to stream from her eyes. Sai, though he was not crying, knelt beside her and rested a hand on her back, rubbing awkward circles on her back in an attempt to soothe her. “I wanted to apologize to her—I didn’t think—”

“Ugly doesn’t blame you, Beautiful,” Sai said in that same blank tone. “You’re her best friend.”

“What kind of best friend am I?!” Ino wailed, a dark red flush crawling up her neck, a product of rage, anguish, and sadness. “I’m the one who practically had her sentenced to death! I’m the one who reported her! If I had just kept my big fat mouth shut, maybe—!”

“Ino,” Kakashi sighed, kneeling down to her height and grasping her shoulders. Sai paused, giving him a knowing look, and stood, taking a few steps back to deter the growing crowd of civilians flocking to the gate. “Sakura would have been caught eventually. It’s alright. She doesn’t blame you. This way, she knew what was coming; she believes she deserves it, so she doesn’t hate you for it. She hates herself.”

Ino hiccuped, her tears growing steadier and faster. “Then why do I feel like I just killed my best friend, Kakashi?”

He closed his eyes and tamped down the flare of anger in his chest. “Because you probably did.”

Sakura heard Ino’s cries from half a mile away. The War Ops were determined and moved fast, neither speaking a word to her as they leapt from tree branch to tree branch, infusing chakra into their steps to move a little bit faster, to push her a little more harder. She was able to keep up with them but only barely, her heart tugging her back to comfort Ino, to see the village one last time. She had to stop herself several times from looking back for a brief second, just to see if she could make out a head of pale blonde hair, and focused on the rapidly moving backs of her escorts, their nondescript brown and black hair the only hints of color on them.

While they were fast, they were also silent, but Sakura could taste the animosity crawling all over them anyways. They had likely been briefed on her status, and there was always a chance she would be fighting with a relative of someone she had killed, be it Yamanaka, Hyuuga, Akimichi, or a civilian. She would not only be watching her back for their enemies, she would have to watch out for her allies, too; there would be no friendships made here, she thought grimly, and adjusted the straps of her pack. Kakashi had been smart to add a lightening jutsu to it so it wouldn’t hinder her progress, but it would be a nuisance if she had to fight with it on.

Though, if her latest fights had been anything to go by, she was more likely to obliterate organs and brains with a single rush of chakra than breaking bones with blunt, chakra enhanced fists. She would have to test it when they arrived at camp—some miles away near the borders of Ame—or if they chanced upon a group of rogue ninja along the way. And her seal needed to be examined, too, but she didn’t trust any one of the War Ops members as far as she could throw them. Her own abilities would have to be enough.

“Caravan, three o’clock. Possibly rogue ninja.” The first ninja, a woman, held her arm out in an order to pause. Sakura landed lightly on the tree branch behind her, eyes darting over the horse mask she wore and then into the underbrush, where she could just barely make out the wheels of a carriage and several men dressed in what appeared to be Amegakure gear. “No. Amegakure forces… Six chuunin and four jounin. Orders, Crane?”

The second ninja hummed in thought. Sakura would recognize the sound of Neji Hyuuga’s voice anywhere, her gaze hyper focused—the long brown hair, slight build, the way he carried himself… She should have guessed. As far as she had been aware, Neji had been sealed by his clan and virtually disappeared from the public eye, but if this was what he had been doing for the past year or so, then she would have to be wary.

“Engage hostiles. Horse, crowd control. Crow… close combat. Fight to kill.”

Sakura scowled behind her mask. He was already putting her at risk of death. She shouldn’t have been surprised; the last time she had seen Neji, they hadn’t been on good terms. If this was how the rest of her life was going to be while they fought this war, she would rather throw him to the wolves and fend for herself.

Their orders received, the triad scattered to surround the caravan. The contents were obscure, but Sakura could make out the kanji for ‘explosive’ on a barrel tied to the top. They were nearly thirty or forty miles out from Konoha, so they were clearly intended for the village, perhaps to weaken the defenses or take out enough ninja to cause an issue.

The plan of attack was clear. Sakura would be forced to go in first; Neji would come in with Horse and keep them all limited to the small pathway and prevent them from vanishing into the forest. It was a smart plan… if only it had gone as she thought it would.

Sakura leapt down from her perch on a branch and slammed down on a man’s shoulders hard enough that the chakra in her feet sliced clean through the ball and socket joint and severed his arms from his torso. It hadn’t been intentional, but she sawed a kunai across his throat anyway, arterial spray flying into the air in an elegant arc. It was warm and wet as it poured down her face and absorbed into her clothes, but she couldn’t linger on just one. She shoved the body to the ground, the impact causing her knees to jolt unpleasantly, and darted for the nearest ninja in her line of sight.

He was large, burly, with cracked teeth and eyes full of red blood vessels. The vest he wore was more kevlar than a standard vest, so when Sakura tried to force her kunai through it, she was met with enough resistance that she had to change her plan. She swung her fist towards his face, intending to break his jaw and slam the delicate bones in his nose bridge up into his skull, but he caught the chakra laced hit with his bare hand, unaware of the horror crawling over Sakura’s face as her razor sharp chakra tore through skin and muscle and flesh and bone, all the way up to his elbow, bits of gore and shorn veins flying through the little crowd they made.

Horse and Neji never came to back her up.

When the man screamed, hand flying up to grab at his bicep, she lunged forward and ground her fist into his skull. She heard the crack of bone and the soft give of brain matter and then he was dead, slumping at her feet, blood pooling between the webbing of her toes and sinking into her brand new shoes.

She was on her own, she realized, and had been set up quite spectacularly. Horse and Neji’s chakra signatures were well on their way towards Amegakure and fading fast. This must have been the elders’ plan: set her up, get her killed, and no one would be the wiser if she died due to foul play.

Sakura slaughtered her way through the Ame nin with tears burning in her eyes and a knot in her throat that she couldn’t work through. She had thought she had been done with crying when she had left Konoha. She had thought she would be stone hard and cold when she left, unmoving, and stalwart in the face of her own death. Instead, she was as scared as the day she had faced off Orochimaru in the Forest of Death; as scared as the day Sasuke had knocked her unconscious and left her at the gates; as scared when she killed that poor girl when she was trying to heal her instead. Terrified, even, and fear fueled her anger, which fueled her determination to live.

She wanted to live. But did she even deserve it, anymore?

The last of the Amegakure ninja fell to her feet, his head rolling to a stop against a tree stump. A large lake of blood, demolished organs, and gore had grown the more she killed, and the mark on her forehead stung something fierce, as if someone had taken a hornet stinger to her skin and was painstakingly drawing out the circles and lotus flower like a cruel tattoo.

Sakura reached under her mask and brushed the tears away, blood streaking across her cheek and the corner of her eyes. There was nothing left to do now but move forward. She could let them believe she had died and flee to a far away country where no one would think to look for her; but a darker part of her, whispering in the back of her mind, told her to go to Amegakure, to show Neji and Horse that she was worth more than a few chunin and jounin, and when they weren’t looking, stab them in the back as they had her.

She closed her eyes and sighed. “An eye for an eye, right?”

With one last cursory glance to the ninja she had killed, she began heading towards Amegakure, following the invisible trail that Neji had left behind.

一 (ichi) | masterlist | 三 (san)

[flexsealfamilyofproductsfan]

A can of Flex Seal is only 14.99 (not including shipping) How much medicine could you need where you need donations?

nothing to see here, everything is fine

HELP ME BUY MY MEDS WITH COMMISSIONS OR DONATIONS

[official-phil-swift]

hey I broke my soul the other day, would something in the Flex Seal family of products be able to help?

Yeah you’ll be wanting Flex Soul Patch®.

[potokguy]

Need need need the entire Flex Seal family of products 

[flexsealfamilyofproductsfan]

I find it quite Flexphobic that Flex Seal or any of the Flex Seal Family of Products weren't included in this poll. In todays age of inclusivity I find it sad that my people are still discriminated against like this.

[gen-zee]

i follow the flex seal family of products on instagram

[tymki]

So, Peter and Chara what do you guys think about Flex Seal family of products? (specially Flex Tape)

Chara: ... What?Peter: They’re okay I guess. I did saw a boat in half and repair it with flex tape, but I don’t know... it is expensive...

[alitheamateur]

A Taste of Home

Summary: Amelia Calvert is a Boston-born girl returning home after the sur turn of events in her marriage. Her life is turned upside down, leaving her nearly broke, jobless for the most part, and sleeping in the childhood bedroom of her parents home. As if things weren’t shaken up enough for Millie, a familiar face discovers her return to the city, and her world turns to the happiest, most confusing whirlwind of shambles. 

Characters: Chris Evans X OFC

Warnings: Slight age gap (9ish years). Language

Back home. Back to square one. Back like things never changed.

Except everything had. You were returning without a job, no abode of your own, and a nixed husband. It was all supposed to be under wraps, but whispers spread like an unrelenting rash. The bad kind of rash that you never want to have to call an ex about… Your city may be a big one, one supposed to be above and beyond all that small-town “he said, she said” nonsense. But, gossip found it’s place no matter the zip code, and you just happened to be square in the center of it.

You much preferred Boston to the sweltering air of rural Texas, but the things we do for love, huh? Your husbands’ home-base office happened to stand in the city of Austin, and at the time, you would’ve followed him to Tim-buck-too had it been necessary. “At the time” meaning before you found him on all fours, belt loose around the ankles with his paralegal. You’d had her in your home, schmoozing her with expensive wine, and an overpaid caterer because you didn’t want to poison her with your shit concoctions in the kitchen. “At the time” anyway….

Leaving your soon to be ex-husband without so much as a “see you later”, Boston called your name. And for the time being, so did your old room on the upstairs floor of your parent’s house. You chose for a few months at least to believe those clichés about “never being too old to go home.”

Your travel blog hadn’t quite caught on with the public yet, and since your divorce wouldn’t be final for countless days, money was nearly nonexistent. You were separating from a lawyer, too. Meaning a substantial monetary settlement in your favor was highly unlikely.

Thankfully, you always had a place at Calvert’s Cup, your family owned coffee shop just a mere 4 blocks from your childhood home. The familiar solace of the place was comforting, and the warm, fuzzy smell of the house blend soothes your aching, confused heart, as well. Sure, the little downward brows of pity from the nosey morning crowd who’d made it a freaking special ops mission to discover your reason for returning to Boston wore you out. But, there was no stopping them. No way, no how. So, you played on with your best smile, and did your due diligence around the little shop.

 One Tuesday, with the rain pouring outside like the coffee at morning rush, and thunder rumbling against the loose panes of the front window, you ran back to the register once hearing the twinkling of the entry bell. Your line of sight never raised as you greeted the patron approaching your counter.

 “Morning. What can I do for you?”

 A cackling, raspy outburst and the clapping of a heavy set of hands swiped your attention.

 “Hold on a fucking minute.” The yelping announcement from the very familiar male voice instantly made you want to fall into a cave never to see the light of day again.

 You’d know that loud, Boston city charm anywhere. You swiped a loose lock of hair around the curve of your ear, hoping to God your face didn’t appear as heated & humiliated as it felt.

 Chris, the always handsome kid that lived two doors down from you your entire childhood, in the flesh & very much grown up. Of course, you were highly aware since his face frequented any slimy gossip column on the newsstand weekly. The two of you hadn’t been extremely tight knit in the category of friends almost 15 years ago since he’d been a handful of years older. But he was a face you spent many an hour daydreaming about.

 “Amelia Calvert, in the flesh. God, how long’s it been!? What are you doing here?” He smiled, shaking off the mist of rain settling on his coat.

 Yeah, what are you doing here? Let’s hear it. And don’t leave out that part about moving back in with your parents. That’ll be a real smash.

 “I uh... I’m back here now. For good, most likely. Some things have just.... well, changed recently.”

 Before he had time to retort, his pocket chimed. Pulling the telephone culprit loose, he checked the screen and dismissed its interruption.

 “Well, well. How ‘bout that? I’m sure your mom is ecstatic. I know how chipper my mom gets when I’m in town for a break.”

 The valley girl in you wanted to squeal a little. He was unfathomably handsome, decked in a dark shaded baseball cap, and a shirt resembling the same. The beard was new, but inexplicably welcomed.

 He was simply, well, just Chris. The choir boy who made everyone laugh, and whose house the entire school knew had the best parties. You remember him typically strumming a guitar, and starring in the lead role for every drama club production. Not a single person could ever deny his natural born taking to the stage. And all these years later, the stars, and that damn near perfect beard, had fallen perfectly into the place for him.

 You could feel the metal clasp of your diamond earrings warming against the bashful heat of your blush. Here you were, tied into a stained apron, dry-shampoo caked in your fitful hair, smudges of whipped-cream splattered on the glasses you usually never wore in public, standing in front of a literal A-list celebrity. When were the stars supposed to fall into place for you? Those bastards.

“She’s loving it. She and dad both. I did miss the place…”

“What brings you back anyways? Florida, was it?” He questioned cocking a thick eyebrow, endearing little wrinkles appearing above his left eye.

“Texas, actually. Yeah, it was Texas. I guess it was uh, it was just time to hang up my cowboy hat.”

It drew a belly laugh out of him, and he flapped a hand over his stony peck as if to choke back his uproarious reaction. You needed to feel a laugh like that. But instead, as of late, you were only the butt of such laughter.

His incessant mobile buzzed out again, this time in the palm of his hand.

“Hey, a large house blend, please. 2 sugars would be great.” He politely whispered, muffling the speaker of his phone.

Chris moseyed in circles a few feet from the counter, far enough to make your eavesdropping much more challenging as you appeared to innocently make his order to go. He still talked with his hands, boisterously tossing his head about. That had to be the theater upbringing in him. He may live up to his lax, ‘go with the flow’ reputation, but he definitely had a thing for the dramatic, as well.

You sealed the lid tightly on his biodegradable cup, marking his name across the side with your sharpie, and without thinking, dotted the letter “I” in his name with a tiny little heart. Your psyche was clawing it’s way through to the light one way or another.

“God, sorry about that. Agent bullshit, and all that jazz.” He nodded, rolling his extremely bright eyes.

“Living the dream, right? I can only imagine.” An airy giggle escaped you.

His fingers tapped on the counter, the other hand accepting the steamy java you had whipped up. He chewed his lower lip, gnawing back the tiniest traces of a smile, but the crinkles around his nose gave up his jig.

“It’s damn good to see you, Millie.” It was a simple sentiment. Meaningless, really. But, you could feel behind the bold, warm cadence of his voice that he’d meant exactly what he said. It wasn’t one of those things you say to an old acquaintance because you feel like you have to. Chris seemed…genuinely pleased at your unexpected presence. Which caused those same certain warm cadences in your…. areas. Your heart could’ve exploded into a million beating pieces as your nickname fell from his mouth.

Why the hell did he care though? What did your miniscule return to the city matter? There’d been no contact since his golden ticket was stamped, and truly before now, you weren’t sure he would even recognize your plain face in a crowd.

“Well, I’m happy to know that little ol’ me could brighten your day. And that I’m sure that glorious cup of dark roast had nothing to do with it.”

You were rocking fretfully back and forth behind the counter. Your hands fiddled with the loose watch band fastened around your bony wrists. You were fidgeting undoubtably. You were a fidgeter. The soft auburn whiskers sprouted around his sharp jaws made you fidget.

What those jaws would feel like flexing between your thighs…..

“You’re right. I do love the dark roast. Your dad always leaves a bag with my mom around the holidays for me. This cup seems to taste a little better though, I’m not gonna lie.”

Okay. Was he flirting? That was definitely flirting. You were getting a divorce, not dying. But, he didn’t know that. The wretched “D” word news surely hadn’t spread that far, had it?

You let yourself smile, timidly accepting the compliment with apprehension. This guy could have the ass of half of America on a platter had he been that sort of person. Nothing about the saggy, tired circles under your eyes, and your hair tied into a blonde crows-nest at the crown of your head screamed sex appeal in the slightest.

Chris leaned over the counter, fat beads of rain residue still hanging from his coat dolloped on the counter, one catching your finger. You froze in an instant. Your mind already warring whether to suck his slightly chapped lips into your mouth, or faint from the heavenly poison of his scent climbing into your nostrils.

“But don’t tell your dad. Wouldn’t want to ruin my source of supply.” He whispered deep into your ear like he was spilling some undisclosed secret of the CIA. The mans mouth grazed the shell of your ear, goosebumps climbing up your tensed neck.

“Mhmm…” you choked on your tongue trying to clear your throat. “Your uh, your secrets safe with me.”

“Cross your heart?” With one thick brush of a finger, Chris marked an ‘x’ over the now heaving rise of your chest, politely minding not to drag over your breast. The pert of your begging nipple may have made things a bit awkward.

“I’m a fortress.” You gulped, trying to swallow down the unrelenting urge to capture his lips.

He took a long pull of the coffee, never releasing you from his cuffed stares. You didn’t want to look away from his swimming, batting eyes, but something about the way his neck strained with his swallow called for your attention.

“Come to my place, Mills. Tomorrow night, if you don’t have plans?”

Well, your mom would certainly be distraught that you’d miss movie night, but you could probably squeeze in some time for the guy. But, alone? At his place? No one around to hold you accountable for the screaming, near melted center of your body that suddenly ached for him?

Lacking all power of will, you nodded a probably overzealous acceptance, making his mouth open into a pearly-white smile. A movie star smile. Literally.

“I’ll text you the address then! Have a good one. Glad I ran into you, Amelia.” It was as if the light of the room followed him out the door when it closed behind him, and you were left standing in a blissful fog to make some sense of the events of the last 5 minutes.

And what the hell did you have to wear to Captain America’s house? 

*A/N: PLEASE let me know if you’d like to be added, or removed from the taglist*

tags: @miidailyinspiration @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

[flexsealfamilyofproductsfan]

While I do appreciate this interesting way to look at humanity and it is interesting to learn we are the only species that cooks I do have something to say about the sex and love thing. I, as a Flex Connoisseur, believe that our human sex and love set us far apart from every other species. No other species on Earth shows love like my love for the Flex Seal Family of Products. I am living proof that humanity's love and sex is extremely different from every other species' version of them. No other species on Earth can or ever will be sexually attracted to the Flex Seal Family of Products. Sorry for debunking your entire theory but I felt I had to share.

"Love and sex make us human"

Wrong. Most animals fuck. Some reproduce without a partner. Then there are some that can choose not to fuck (like those that remain in their pride or family and forfeit the right to mate in exchange for safety).

Definitely a lot of them love. In their own way or even our way. Like... so many birds mate for life. Humans only wish for that marriage success rate...

Love and sex don't make us human. The absence of them doesn't make us human.

You know what makes us human?

COOKING.

Humans are the only creatures in existence to cook their food. To have a culinary culture. To purposefully change the molecular structure of their sustenance for fun, art, and pleasure.

So, in a way, at the root of it, is pizza over sex and romance.

Pizza makes us human.

🍕

[yamada-ryo]

Theory: Phil Swift is an abyssal

“Thats a lotta damage” = taiha

“I sawed this boat in half”, attacks boats

Flex seal family of products work underwater, abyssals come from the sea