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[andysconcrete]

Room & Home Addition Contractor in The Woodlands, TX

Expand your living space with Room & Home Addition Contractor in The Woodlands, TX services by Andy’s Concrete Company. We create durable, seamless additions that blend perfectly with your existing structure, enhancing your home's functionality and value.

[mpressurewashing]

How Does Concrete Pressure Washing Protect Your Surfaces from Long-Term Damage?

Read for more info ⬇️

[floridadirtywork]

Best Concrete Removal Company

Say goodbye to back-breaking labor and let the experts at Florida’s Dirty Work handle your concrete removal needs. As the best concrete removal company around, we take pride in delivering quality results with a smile. Trust us to get the job done quickly, efficiently, and without breaking the bank.

[kedreeva]

Hi! I went through your FAQ and didn't see a direct answer this this, but how do you go about actually obtaining a peafowl? How much do they usually cost per bird?

Up front, I can only speak to USA practices, so if you live elsewhere the answer may not be the same.

I'll answer the second part first since it's "easier," or maybe I should say, slightly more concrete, and the answer is: it depends on what you want, and how capable you are of caring for it. I have seen day old blues from backyard breeders go for as little as $15, but unless you really have a handle on what to expect and how to care for them, you will almost certainly be responsible for the death of a day old peachick and waste the money. I have watched an online auction for an ultramarine yearling go for $6,800, but that's because that was a newly imported color from Europe that no one else had. A green - a true, pure green, not an American green that's actually a high green blood hybrid - will run you $5-10k depending on where you import from or who you're buying from that's imported themselves and tracked lineage. An American green will still run you a couple thousand, but more like $2k than $6k. Your average adult blue will run $80-200, but I've watched blue hens go for $400 at auction. Color/pattern mutations will run $150-800 typically, for "common" colors, depending on their quality and whether they're a nice looking hybrid (blue + green species), but I've seen nice morphs go for $35 at auction. I say this because auctions can be great on some days and terrible on others and you would need to know average prices for the color and/or pattern you want, to know if you're getting a deal or getting hosed.

But regardless of a $15 chick or an $800 silver pied platinum Spalding, the expense on them actually comes mainly from the cage- the minimum (and I do mean minimum literally not pretty owners of YouTube outrageous claim of minimum), flight pen size is 500 square feet with no side shorter than 12 feet long (to accommodate trains and allow the birds past you without injuring themselves, and 8 feet tall to allow for a 5-6 perch the males can get on to clean their trains. Every bird must also have 150sq/ft, so 500 will hold 3, but not 4, you'd need 600 for 4. But with peafowl, bigger is better- the more space they have to move around (and thus away from you) the closer they are willing to come to you, because they feel like they can safely get away again. The minimum size is also not optional if you want to maintain healthy birds- they're extremely susceptible to parasites and bacteria often found in raw soil, and even to just... Getting dirt in their face and getting infected sinuses. Minimizing their ability to access dirt by growing in grass and cover crop plants like clover is the single greatest step you can take to protect their health. And this doesn't even include the coop, which is minimum 8x8x6 to protect them and their trains. With the price of lumber, wire, and netting, this will easily run you a few thousand, but it's by far the safest way to keep them, especially the hens, who otherwise tend to get eaten by predators when they set a nest while free ranging. It's also the only way to ensure they don't just leave, because they are game fowl like pheasants, not like chickens, and you can't just toss them in the yard and expect they'll stay. Occasionally they do, but largely they don't.

To answer your first question... It depends on where you live. Most USA states have livestock auctions and bird swap meets- your best bet to acquire local birds is to find those but how to find them... Well. You kind of just have to luck upon them or hope a web search turns them up, if they're even advertised online, on publicly accessible places. There are bigger breeders around the USA that will ship birds if you're looking for something specific you can't find locally, but you'll be looking at a $350+ shipping bill. You can join peafowl groups on Facebook and try to find locals, or contact the UPA (United peafowl association) to get a breeder directory but that's only people who have paid to be in the club, which honestly doesn't do much anymore. You can also, if you know of one breeder, ask if they know other breeders. A good breeder should at least be able to say 'if I don't have what you're looking for, you can try this other person/people.' alternately there's ebay and craigslist, although I wouldn't trust the former because you can only sell eggs, and peafowl hatching eggs are a big fucking waste of money, typically speaking. They're extremely finicky eggs to hatch and most people prefer to let broodies hatch when they can, because they don't hatch well in incubators.

[rederiswrites]

I don't see how trump turning America into a christofacsist state is any different than the norm? like it's been like that for native and black people since it's creation like we inspired the nazis in the first place so like what the point? oh trumps gonna kill everyone who isn't a white cis male! and? that's what america's best quality since day one

Okay I'm actually going to respond to this Edgelord Supreme bullshit, because as absurd as it looks written out like this, I actually do think a lot of people are feeling some half-articulated version of this despair and cynicism. Let's kick that in the ass.

First, let's get one thing straight. History has been terrible awful bad always and forever. There have been a thousand genocides and a million wars and a billion brutal, inhuman war crimes. Back in the days of the earliest civilizations, wiping out entire cities when you defeated them was basically just how things were done for many societies. The fact that we have international laws and international bodies of justice, however obviously toothless they remain, is the result of thousands of years of extremely mixed progress.

So at this point, you pretty much have to say either that a) humans are an incurable blight and don't deserve to live, or b) that we've done amazing, beautiful things and experienced billions of moments of happiness and created art and fallen in love despite all this, so we're still worth working on. Personally, I am very strongly in camp b. I see things worth living for a hundred times a day. There's really no comparison.

Second, the USA is not uniquely bad. It is terribly damaging to people both within its borders and all over the world. It is build on genocide and slavery. Many of its foundational institutions are deeply corrupted by these things. And guess what, that's uh....pretty common. No, really. The US is currently a big fucking problem. It's our turn with the big stick, for sure. But even then, we're not alone.

So how the fuck is this encouraging? It isn't. I'm not encouraging you, I'm telling you to fucking GET GOOD, because when you say shit like the above, what I hear is "Oh I SEE, I'm a TERRIBLE PERSON I guess I should just kill myself to make your life easier." I hear someone who would rather give up and call their country morally bankrupt and irredeemable than to PUT IN SOME FUCKING WORK.

Cynicism is so comfortable. It doesn't ask anything of you. "It's always been like this," it says. "Nothing's going to change."

Except things do change, and things have changed, and your entire premise is in fact absolute dogshit. The two presidential candidates are not remotely the same, and we are not, yet, a Christofascist nation. I could, as many before me already have, enumerate the million concrete ways in which your premise is just not true, but honestly I won't bother, because it's not a premise in good faith. What I mean by that is that even a cursory examination of the actual facts would totally trash your expressed beliefs, so you're not really interested in the facts.

Change for the better can happen. Change for the better has happened. It's just not as EASY as you want it to be. There are more steps. For example, you can't have viable independent candidates until you have campaign finance and voting reform. So you have to push for those things. For years, probably decades. Many people have died without seeing the realization of things they fought for, and yet those things have come to pass. You may die fighting the good fight and not see the victory. I may too. Meanwhile, you make the choices that will hopefully get the fewest people killed.

So stop acting like we're all just too shitty to bother about, and put in some fucking work.

[gumnut-logic]

Five pick ups and one drop off (Pick up 4)

Pick up 1 | Pick up 2 | Pick up 3 | Pick up 4

Scott is tired and a little pissed off, so watch for language. Again, kinda crack just for fun.

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Scott Tracy needed to re-apply his deodorant.

He was beginning to get a bit whiffy. But that’s what happens went you cut halfway across the planet after pulling a dozen people out from under a building in Taiwan.

As it was, he’d had to leave Virgil to liaise with local services to make it in time.

Thunderbird One wasn’t known for her shower facilities, but he had foreseen that in the past and his office in New York was set up with all the amenities including a spare business suit or two.

But that was a good five hours ago. If there was one advantage of crossing the dateline, it was the preservation of sunlight. He had the great pleasure of living the same day over again. With less concrete dust.

But more numbers and more annoying people.

One thing about rescue sites, bar the occasional asshole, was that the people there were usually very, very happy to see Scott and his brothers.

Here in the board room he received the distinct impression that at least several of the members would be much happier with his absence so they could do exactly what they wanted.

Which was what had been happening and why he was here.

“Sir, why the higher expenditure? Their employees are not our responsibility.”

Scott grit his teeth and his blood pressure sung in his ears. “We are saving the company and its employees. I believe with the correct financial support, they can become a solid division of Tracy Industries. We are not in the business of destroying lives.”

“This is not a rescue site, Tracy, this is business!”

Scott straightened from where he had been bent over the conference table, glaring at Martin at the far end, and pulled himself up to his full height before turning to glare at Landers on his left. “Not the way we conduct it.” His tone turned acid. “Do you think caring makes us soft, Landers?”

“Yes, it does. You are destroying our profit margin.”

Scott could not give a fuck about this particular profit margin. They were absorbing a large manufacturing business with its heart in country USA. If they didn’t handle the situation carefully, a good hundred thousand employees looked to lose lifetime jobs. The impact on the people and society would be massive. Not to mention a foolish move as TI’s most important asset was its talent. And there was good talent out there. The business had been struggling, but only to out compete TI, which it could no longer.

Its product was excellent. Brains and Virgil had done an assessment and agreed that the teams had potential. All they needed to do was absorb them into TI and then manage them into a better working culture in order to support that talent.

But it was obvious certain members of the board did not see things the same way as the Tracy brothers. Yes, the profit margin would suffer, may even go into cost in the short term, but it was the long term Scott Tracy was interested in and not lining his pockets at the cost of other people’s lives.

Tracy Industries was big and stable enough to take a hit for the common good.

“Landers…” Scott really wished his head wasn’t hurting so much. “…just go.”

“What? Go where?”

“Out.” Scott waved an irritated hand at the door. “Get out!”

“You can’t-“

“GO!”

The whole room jumped.

Landers glared everything at Scott, swore under his breath, and made a scene of gathering his tablet and collection of paraphernalia off the table and stomping towards the exit.

The moment he left, murmured protests rumbled around the room.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Carly, his EA, talking into her headset. A moment later Jeremy, his personal security guard, stepped into the room and took up a position quite casually just inside the door.

Great.

Not the best politic move, Tracy. But Landers was a dick and he had had it coming for a long time.

Scott had just needed to be irritated enough to follow through.

He leant over the table again. “Do we have any further objections?”

Martin at the far end was noting furiously on his tablet. Yeah, more trouble would come from that direction.

Scott sighed. He really wasn’t at his best. He needed sleep. The Virgil at the back of his head was jumping up and down on his neurons demanding he stop growling at staff and come home.

There was a knock at the door and that same brother, still dressed in his IR uniform, stuck his head through. “Hey, excuse me, I need to borrow the President for a moment.”

The room was still rumbling and didn’t really respond. Scott strode over to his brother. “What is it?”

“Come out here for a sec.”

“I can’t leave right now.”

“Yes, you can.” A heavy lifting arm reached in and yanked him out into the hall.

“Virgil, what the hell?”

But his brother was busy staring at him, dark eyes assessing him as if he was capable of medically scanning him with the melanin in his eyeballs. “You’re coming with me.” And before Scott could react - a definite sign of exhaustion if there was one - Virgil lifted him in one quick move and threw him over his shoulder.

“Virgil, what the fuck?!” He struggled, but Virgil was known for his iron grip and even in Scott’s worst moments, he couldn’t hurt his brother.

“We are going home.”

“It’s an important meeting!” The view of the floor and his brother’s butt was infuriating.

“I know. Which is why we let you go initially. However, that was hours ago, and before you disassemble the board one by one, we are intervening.”

“We?”

“Hi, Scott.”

He cranked his head up just in time to see John walk past in a crisp turquoise-grey suit. “What? John? Virgil, put me down!”

“Nope.” They entered an elevator…going up, no doubt to the roof.

“Virgil, please. John will eviscerate them.”

“Yep.” They stepped out into sunlight.

“Aww, c’mon. They’re scared of him.”

“Yep.” A big green shadow loomed over them and Virgil stepped onto her elevator, giving Scott a fantastic view of checkerplate and nothing else. “It will do them good.”

“Virg-“

“Nope. Bed.”

“Please?”

His brother kicked the wall of the cockpit and folded down one of the stretchers. He rolled Scott gently off his shoulder, carefully catching his head and neck and let him sink into the soft medical support.

Every muscle cheered in gratitude.

“Virg…” God, he was tired.

His brother responded by brushing a hair out of his eyes, his gloved hand pushing Scott’s mess of hair back from his forehead. Kind eyes looked down at him. “You need rest, big brother.”

Sure fingers darted over his body, doing up safety straps and securing him in place, and for some reason Scott did not have the energy to protest.

He fell asleep halfway across the Pacific lulled to rest by the comforting roar of his brother’s ‘bird.

-o-o-o-

Next

[germanpostwarmodern]

The former German capital Bonn was the center of architect Ernst van Dorp’s (1920-2003) private and professional life: between the 1950s and 1990s he realized some 55 projects in his hometown, two-thirds of his entire oeuvre. Van Dorp was one of the early postwar architecture students at TH Karlsruhe and as enrollment fee he had to provide some 2,000 bricks collected from surrounding bomb sites as Germany lay in ruins after WWII. In 1948 a semester project initiated by Egon Eiermann landed him the best score and a stipend for the MIT in Cambridge. The following year Van Dorp thus spent in the USA and really made the most of it as he got to meet Walter Gropius, Mies van der Rohe and Frank Lloyd Wright. But although Gropius at the end of his term offered him to continue his studies at MIT he declined and returned to Bonn, the new capital of West-Germany.

For a recent article about Ernst van Dorp, published by ModerneRegional, Verena Pfeiffer-Kloss visited a number of the architect’s early buildings and fittingly establishes that they convey a sense of the 1950s Federal Republic: buildings like the Sparkasse Bonn HQ or the Kaiser Apotheke pair solidity with playful details and give expression to the Wirtschaftswunder prosperity. In the 1960s and 1970s Van Dorp increasingly has to deal with the large form, e.g. in the cases of the Sieglar Town Hall, the Rathaus Center in Ludwigshafen or the Bonn Science Center, tasks that he convincingly solves by juxtaposing horizontal and vertical building sections. At the same time his designs reflect contemporary trends in architecture like the wide-ranging use of exposed concrete or fully glazed reflective facades. Sadly some of them have already been demolished as records the present book that still is the only book-length overview of the architect’s oeuvre: Andreas Pellens’ monograph „Ein Bonner baut: Ernst van Dorp 1950-2000“, published by Bouvier in 2002. The book collects more than 50 buildings which are all presented in period photographs and brief texts. Unfortunately plans are not included and thus the book primarily serves as a foray through Van Dorp’s work that would benefit from a proper scientific treatment.

[mercury-lattice]

The Phoenix's Fortune--My Feeding Method as a Web/Desolation Avatar

I have a casino in-system, in the headspace. It's based on the one I had in my life before. I'm noncanon, but sourced from The Magnus Archives. TL;DR for those who are unfamiliar with the source itself, there's eldritch entities tied to certain fears, that influence and bind parts of themselves to people (who are called avatars). I'm an avatar of The Desolation (fears of fire, destruction of potential, loss) and The Web (fears of arachnophobia, manipulation/being controlled, addiction). Avatars feed themselves and their attached entities off of that fear they generate.

So, I was a weird case, being tied to two entities at once. I had to find my own ways to feed, if I wanted to be productive and feed both at once--which seemed to be the best course of action. And what kills two birds with one stone so-to-speak? Life-destroying addiction, of course! So, after deciding I didn't fit in with the other avatars of my home in the UK, I moved to somewhere in the USA and made myself a casino. I named it The Phoenix's Fortune--kind of a normal casino-y name and whatnot. But, the point of the name itself was that I was technically the phoenix gaining from everyone elses downfall. Bit of a nod to the phoenix rising from its own ashes thing--I just gain from everyone elses instead. That play on words being unknown to most people who frequented the casino fed The Web, subtly.

I don't remember where in the US it was, in all honesty. In life it also had a bar area and all that, but other than that it kind of… Looked like a casino if it were run by a volcano-phoenix worshipping cult. Mostly actual fire as lighting--oil lanterns lining the walls, big, ornate metal fire pits on the ground. I loved the phoenix imagery, so there was plenty of that around. Things like carvings on the walls, statues, and other miscellanious decor. I loved my lanterns--but I also loved fire pits. Huge, metal or concrete bowls that stand on the ground with fire in them. Mine were metal, of course. Concrete wouldn't heat up and burn if you were to accidentally touch it, and that's no fun. Any "accidents" fuelled The Desolation, at least a little.

Being tied to The Desolation, it of course was uncomfortably hot to be in the building at all. All the fire pits certianly helped with that. But of course, addiction doesn't care about that sort of thing... Uncomfortability is mild compared to eldrith-entity fuelled drive to gamble. People came and stayed despite the heat and thick smell of smoke. The slot machines and other things I had in there for people to waste their money away on were also warm to the touch. When you'd first start gambling, it was mainly a sense of discomfort. The deeper people fell into the trap of addiction, though, the hotter the equipment got, until their hands weren't necessarily recogniseable as hands, or some even fused into the objects themselves from the melting heat--trapping them there physically. That definitely fuelled my own fire.

The Web needed more than just wordplay, though. So, I decided to prolong the addiction, wrap people up in more threads of fate, and open the opportunity for more burning later down the line. I had plenty of people come to me, having spent their life savings on those damn machines, begging me to help them--people in desperate situations try desparate things. So, I gave out loans--money meant nothing to me in the end, and I had plenty. Of course, some would just spend it right away and that was a nice chance to melt some people for taking advantage of my "generosity".

Others would try to actually pick their life back up! But rarely did the money make its way back to me. So, a bit of waiting, watching them pick up the pieces, unknowing of anything I'm pulling behind the scenes. And eventually, there would be more burning. Either they made mistakes on their own with a little bit of twisting behind the scenes, or I got fed up and there had to be a bit of a "freak accident", which usually involved anything they had gained getting melted--houses, families, other material belongings, whatever. I loved the more drawn-out ones, where people went quite a while without falling into it, and they even felt safe, not knowing I was still pulling strings.

It's mostly the same imagery innerworld, I wanted close to a replica because really, I did live in that place and it was also literally my lifeforce. It honestly was almost like an extension of me in a way. It wasn't literally me, like The Distortion's door being itself, it was just like... If I were to carry a bag with me and felt lost or naked without it, the building would have an equivalent feeling to that. Something that isn't me, but needs to be with me. Like a comfort item integral to my identity.

Of course, I can't burn people in-system--there's rules against that. But having that reminder and that security of before helps all the same.

[theatrekidenergy]

“ Dimly lit shadows “

═══════ ◈ ═══════

Pairings : N/A (gen fic)

Words : 2,511

Characters : Matt Murdock “Daredevil” , Marc Spector & Steven Grant “Moon Knight”

Summary : When Matt Murdock and Marc Spector find themselves fighting an ancient beast with a message to share, the small mission Moon Knight had been sent on to New York for quickly evolves upon the meeting of the local vigilante — Daredevil.

Ao3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/57350671

AN : This is my first fic, interaction is genuinely so so appreciated and thank you so much for coming by to read it! Please keep in mind English isn’t my native tongue so there may be some mistakes I might’ve missed during the writing process. View Ao3 for further author’s notes <3

Read fic below cut

═══════ ◈ ═══════

January 24th, 12:34 am - EARTH-616 : “Hell’s Kitchen” New York, NY, USA

Matt Murdock lay perched on the edge of a rooftop, the cool night air whispering past him as he tuned into the ever bustling symphony of sensory input from the city below that was ever amplified in his head. Every string of input amplified by 10, Hell's Kitchen was alive with its usual nocturnal sound – distant sirens wailing like wolves, the murmur of conversations from late-night dwellers, and over all the heartbeat of a city that never received a blink of sleep was all to familiar to the New York native. The place he’d called home since his youth was a cacophony of sound, smell, and sensation. Tonight, the air carried a distinct odor, a foul mixture of sewer water and human waste, rising from the west, accompanied by a contrasting scent coming from the string of smaller restaurants on 14th. It all felt fitting for the restless environment below his heels.

Suddenly, a sharp, unfamiliar sound sliced through the familiar noise, as if the claws of a bear were raking across a chalkboard. It sent a shiver down his spine. He sprang into action, leaping from the rooftop and plunging into the labyrinth of alleys. The sound was easy to track, its eerie resonance guiding him to the darkest corner of the city. From the corner of the street it looked like a million other big cities, and from the inner passage way of the alley it looked like the inner passage way of a million other alleys sprawled across the United States; dimly lit, a couple broken glass bottles, and the sound of an electrical hum about 3 stories up.

Landing silently, he crouched, his leather suit crinkling softly against his shoulder blade. He tilted his head, every sense straining. Something moved, swift and ghostly, nearly silent to him which was an incredibly difficult feat to achieve, throwing him off. He pinpointed the source and lashed out with his billy club. It struck something solid and he heard the muscles of the creature contract inwards. The creature roared, a sound of raw flesh slamming into a garbage bin with a metallic clang. Matt’s brow furrowed. “Is this some big dog? What the hell is this?” He murmured lowly to himself in a quick nod of reaction.

Before he could process the unknown creature in front of him, another figure landed beside him. The so-called Moon Knight, clad in white that seemed to glow in the dim alley, his suit bearing the ceremonial armor of Khonshu, the Egyptian god of the moon. His eyes, hidden behind his mask, glinted with a hazy, ethereal light. Without hesitation, he joined the fray, attacking the invisible foes with deadly precision in the same way he had done a plethora of times before this encounter.

Moon Knight's movements were a blur, each strike precise and powerful. Matt decided in a split second to follow the distinct sounds of combat, he dodged to the left following the noise of the claws pattering across the damp concrete and making his best landing on an attack. He spun, his club striking the air where he sensed movement, the leather of his suit rustling with each motion as the club collided with the creature perceisely in the head.

Moon Knight slowed his movements for just a millisecond, staring at the Daredevil in shock. “You can see them?” he demanded, his breath heavy from the exertion, before subjecting the jackal to another bone-crunching kick, driving it to the ground.

Matt hesitated. Revealing his blindness wasn’t an option. “Yes?” He added between blows to the ancient beast.

Marc’s eyes widened behind his mask. “There are avatars in New York?” he asked, the surprise evident in his voice. How had he not seen this man in Cairo? Was another god brought back and had chosen him as their avatar? If he was an enemy, why would he be helping to fight the jackal? How did he track the jackal down before him in the first place? His suit seemed vaguely reminiscent of Set’s avatar, but if so, what happened to the original avatar he had seen in Cairo? Too many questions, too little time.

Matt blinked. “What?”

Moon Knight pressed on, his voice growing increasingly more demanding, “What god do you serve?”

“Jesus?” Matt replied with a moment of confusion and a furrow in his brow, then quickly added, “I’m Catholic?”

Spector stared at him in utter bewilderment. “What?”

“Yeah, Catholic,” Matt repeated, feeling more confused than ever. What on earth was he on about? Who — No, what was an avatar?

“I’m not even surprised anymore,” Marc muttered in resignation, the jackal recovering its footing. He lunged at it, grappling at the crescent moon in his chest and spearing it directly in the chest repeatedly, driving it in with relentless blows. Matt joined in, his club a flash of motion, striking the invisible foe with deadly accuracy.

The jackal howled, its form flickering into visibility to Moon Knight under the assault. It was a grotesque creature, all sinew and teeth, eyes burning with an unnatural fire. Matt could feel its presence, a malevolent force that chilled his blood. He ducked under a swipe of its claws, the air whistling tight past his ear, and countered with a blow to its midsection, the impact reverberating up his arm.

The jackal snarled, lashing out wildly. Matt sidestepped, feeling the rush of air as its claws missed him by inches. He swung his billy club, connecting with the side of its head, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone. The creature staggered, but didn't fall. It was tenacious, driven by some dark force.

Moon Knight seized the moment, delivering a powerful kick to its chest, sending it crashing into a wall. The creature slumped, its form flickering and fading. Matt could hear its labored breathing, the rasp of desperation of a creature not quite dead and not quite alive either. He stepped forward, ready to deliver the final blow, but Moon Knight Held the vigilante back.

“Stop.” he said, his voice firm. “We need to know what it wants.”

Matt hesitated, then nodded to the unfamiliar man. He could feel the creature's fear, its panic. He crouched beside it, listening intently to its ragged breaths. “Who sent you?” the avatar demanded.

The jackal snarled with weakness and baring its teeth as a glow of pure divine anger engulfed its form, its eyes and flesh glowing through the cracks of callused skin as if it were being taken over by means of possession. “You’ll never stop us,” it hissed, it’s possessor gave the previously voiceless monster a voice of sheer guttural rasp in an anatomy not built for human speech. “The gods are rising.”

The gods are rising. It was a chilling string of words. One that threw every form of his belief into questioning. He tightened his grip on the billy club. “We’ll see about that.” Spoke Moon Knight, his tone soaking with spite towards the event.

With a final, defiant snarl, the jackal dissolved into nothingness, the glow of its eyes leaving its form, leaving only a dark stain on the ground. Matt straightened, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He turned to Moon Knight, who was breathing heavily but standing firm.

“Looks like we have a lot to discuss,” Matt said, his voice steady despite the utter confusion inside him. This is not exactly the realm of fight that he’s familiar with. “For example, who are you? And what is Any of this suppose to mean?” The question was spoken intensely, venom in each lick of noise.

“I am Moon Knight, Avatar of Kohnshu — Egyptian god of the moon.” And then there was a pause. There was a pause where every briefly emitted minuscule sound was so focused, so tied into one, that every single heart beat, every single foot step, every single distant whisper all collided into one and created such a deafening silence unexplainable by all forms of human language. When the one thing you’ve spent your life devoting too, your faith, is suddenly interrupted by the claim there were multiple gods, there’s no word that can be spoken to describe that feeling because there was something undeniably true about whoever was standing in front of him. He heard the way his heartbeat didn’t speed up when he spoke his claim, he knew intrinsically that he wasn’t lying, but that would throw his perception of the world he lived in for chaos.

Matt Murdock wasn’t one to typically accept any word spoken to him with such ease, let alone a complete stranger; something felt immensely different about the way he spoke, about the way the air felt thinner when this supposed ‘avatar’ filled with the possession of pure divinity came into being next to him, and for just a second nothing felt true. Every word sliding off every tongue in the whole of New York City from Hell’s Kitchen to Manhattan was all lies, that he was sure of more than ever before. Even if he knew he was lying to himself, the thought brought an ounce of reassurance that maybe the claim was false.

“The Egyptian gods are referred to as myth for a reason.” Murdock asserted stiffly. “If that’s the case why am I here? Huh?” Marc challenged, he moved closer by about a foot, one arm pointing towards Matt and one still by his side guarding his back, “You heard the jackal, the gods are coming.” There was a brief moment of silence, “I’m going to need an explanation of who you are.” Marc added.

“I’m Daredevil.” Matt said plainly, growing more on guard with each passing second. Even if he knew the man opposite him wasn’t lying, he was given no guarantee that he didn’t have any malicious intent. “Also, I’m pretty damn sure I’m not the one who has explaining to do. What is an avatar. What do you mean by the gods are coming, and what on earth were we just fighting because, correct me if I’m wrong, but jackals — if that’s what you called it; 1. can’t talk 2. live in Africa, and 3. Shouldn’t be able to nearly knock two grown men to their knees.” Matt’s tone was ever so accusatory, but for clearly justified reasons.

Marc hesitated, how could this man see jackals and not be an avatar? How on earth did he track it down before him? What information am I sacrificing if this man is just pretending to work with me?

“Marc I’m really not sure you should be revealing this much information this quickly, this isn’t exactly like you.” Steven said quite forcefully, a glimmer of reflection coming through a broken bottle sprawled in dozens of pieces across the concrete.

Marc paused for a second to think about the advice handed to him, but decided to go against it. “An avatar,” he paused to form his next choice of words carefully, “An avatar is the person who, for as far as I knew up until about 15 minutes ago, is someone who is selected by an ancient Egyptian god to pursue their will on earth, using the person they’ve selected to fight for their purpose.” Marc explained.

“So what I’m asking you, ‘Daredevil’, is how on earth you can see jackals if you aren’t an avatar of an Egyptian god, let alone that you claim to be the avatar of Jesus or what ever.” Spector noted while moving closer, “I never claimed to be an avatar, I just said I’m Catholic. I’ve never heard of any of this that you’re talking about, the whole Egyptian god thing isn’t exactly in my line of work. I deal with the problems people face, I don’t get into all of the magic that the avengers deal with.” He replied putting his hands up.

There wasn’t a moment of silence before Marc had practically interrupted him at the tail end of his phrase “Then how could you see them?” he barked grabbing Matt by the collar of his suit, “I can’t see them,” Murdock relented. “I’m blind.” He explained gesturing losely towards himself, Marc registered this and released him from his grasp in a flicker of confusion. It was evident the other man was confused based on sheer body language alone.

“Explain to me how he could’ve fought like that if he couldn’t even see his opponent? How did he land any attack or dodge?” Steven questioned. “I don’t know.” Marc whispered quietly, but the question did warrant an answer. “How did you attack it then? I’m unlikely to believe a blind man could’ve dodged that many attacks from a creature he could not see.” the words were spat with a level of accusation, “I could hear them. Every small noise I could hear. If you aren’t lying about being an avatar or what not of a literal god then it shouldn’t take much to wrap your head around the fact that my senses are hyper tuned in to every aspect of my surroundings.” Matt said taking a step closer.

So, to test a likely risky guess of this claim, Marc thought carefully about his next actions. If he was blind there was no risk in this action, and if he wasn’t than it wouldn’t be hard to take him down in a fight. He allowed the mask of moon knight to release his form, unwinding around him layers of intricately shaped bindings, leaving him standing in his civilian clothes; a plain black t-shirt and worn in jeans.

“And you’re positive you can’t see my suit right now?” He questioned, knowing well that the suit was no longer on; his heart beating ever so slightly faster creating a rough rythm in his chest audible to Murdock. “That’s kind of what the whole blind thing means. That I quite literally cannot see.” Matt replied plainly. “Oh and I heard your suit come undone but no I have no clue what it looked like, and what you look like either.. I assure you it’s not at all hard to understand.” He explained.

Marc hesitated. “Okay. Well, if I see you again — and given the fact you aren’t currently working against me, I’ll stay out of your hair, we can truce on that.”

“As long as you don’t interfere with what I need to do here and you stick to what’s yours, I can agree to that. But if you ever, and I mean ever, try to cause havoc in Hell’s Kitchen I will find you and I won’t be as considerate.” Murdock warned, his tone dead serious.

There was a flick of wind in the air, the urban landscape behind them unresting, and a low “Then until next time, Daredevil.” aired from Marc’s mouth until Matt walked passed him, jumping onto the metal lining of a stair case towards the roof top, leaving the mercenary alone in the dim city alley as the first sprinkles of rain fall pattered across the pavement.

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[elitehanitje]

NJPW President, Hiroshi Tanahashi, addressed the ten-point plan for the future of NJPW:

Hiroshi Tanahashi’s 10-Point Plan

1. Talent discovery and development - Young talent should wrestle in more high-level spots - Wrestlers still need to earn their spots in tournaments like the G1. - NJPW wants the best wrestlers in their early 20s in Japan

2. Elevating the value of title belts - It is important to clarify the role and concept of each title - STRONG titles will be defended on USA shows only going forward - The company acknowledges that the tag titles are about to be combined at Dominion… “the process may take time.” - The company acknowledges that 13 titles may be challenging to follow. - This process may take time, 12-18 months.

3. Reducing/eliminating outside interference - They haven’t determined concrete penalties, but interference will be limited - A lot of talk and questions about whether House of Torture is the reason for this goal - The company acknowledges the fans' frustrations regarding House of Torture - The company concedes that pro wrestling is unique when it comes to wrestlers turning things in their favor any way they can.

4. Increasing the prominence and status of NJPW Hontai - Tanahashi wants Hontai to be a desired unit for young wrestlers or wrestlers returning from excursions.

5. Strengthening ties with STARDOM - STARDOM will be owned by NJPW as of the end of June. - Look for improved operational efficiency, scheduling, crossover events, and STARDOM on NJPW events soon.

6. Strengthening ties with AEW - NJPW is happy with its relationship with AEW. - “There is the perception that NJPW is treated as a sub-brand or is looked down on by AEW. Some of that perception of NJPW being behind comes from the current economics. But the truth of the matter is AEW’s strengths and NJPW’s strengths are different. From the development of talent from scratch to a historical and traditional perspective, there’s a lot NJPW can offer that AEW cannot. So there’s a lot that we can do together and while much of it isn’t something we can discuss right now, there’s a lot we will do. However, the idea that NJPW is the inferior partner is not correct. We are absolutely on an even footing, and that’s something we’ll prove soon.”

7. Improving the live fan experience - Ideas: different prices, different pricing tiers, female-only seating sections, special food menus, and number of people in a box.

8. Improving NJPW World - Apologies for the clunky transition - Archives should be complete by the end of the year - Live viewing has been fixed/improved

9. Improved treatment of personal information - Apologies for getting that USB drive stolen/lost - Plans are in place to keep data safe going forward

10. NJPW sponsorships - Thank you to sponsors. The full English language recap can be found at njpw1972.com

via Chris Samsa

[infamous-if]

You don’t need to post this but just so you know, it really does sounding like almost no one in the story who have witness to or have heard the MC’s work think it is very interesting at all 🫣, and just occasionally a person will randomly appreciate for some reason, such as Orion. I think maybe a lot of readers might had anticipated a type of MC that has the experience of undeniably suited for this and so on, in the way you have sometimes describe some others in the story, such as S

Hi ! Sorry but I'm going to post this mostly (and apologies that your ask is the one who is gonna get this long response, my ire isn't towards you because you're being very kind about it but others have, honestly, not been) because other people probably have this thought as well but I'm sort of confused on where this whole idea of MC being useless/untalented/not suitable is coming from?

I've said before there will be people who question MC's talent, but that's just natural--not everyone is going to think someone is worthy of their fame and attention. People thinking that there are better singers out there doesn't invalidate what MC is capable of. If I wrote a story where every person thinks MC is the greatest thing since sliced bread then that wouldn't be an entertaining story lol You need tension, and you need naysayers so every win can feel satisfying. Plus, doubters is a natural and normal thing in the business. MC is literally in a competition where other very talented bands are competing. Even though they're the main character, they're the main character of their story. Not everyone elses. Other bands believe they are just as deserving--if not more--of winning than MC's band. It's natural. To those bands MC is just another person they need to beat to win.

Seven being more famous doesn't mean MC isn't talented (the band literally voted for MC's vocals over Seven's). G being more famous doesn't mean MC isn't talented. Hell, if MC's band lost BOTB and went home empty handed, that doesn't mean MC isn't talented. It's part of the competition. Amazing bands and amazing singers get rejected all the time. There isn't room for everybody.

I do want to mention that people probably feel this way because I can not give concrete answers about an MC that is largely customizable. In the game, your MC can lack confidence. Or they can be arrogant. They can believe their skills are lackluster, or they can believe they are the best singer alive. People expect me to answer questions that have varied answers depending on what MC each player is playing. I can't give you that! I do my best.

Orion listened to MC once and quit his job to manage them.

2. August auditioned to be their drummer, and while August is largely indifferent, they admit themselves they were interested and they tell MC how good MC's voice is.

3. Maya is quite literally following MC's band around the USA because she's that much of a fan.

4. Seven dislikes MC, but Seven is not a liar: they will always stand by their opinion that MC is talented. That's one of the biggest reasons why Seven liked MC so much: their artistry.

4. This is spoilery but fuck it: G listened to MC once and wanted MC's band in BOTB.

idk why people think that people listen to MC and get bored when I don't think I've ever indicated that? The demo isn't even out lshshdhsahs

anyway this isn't an attack on you anon but it is kind of frustrating that people think MC is just this untalented fluke that didn't work hard to get to where they are today. Just as much as MC is yours, they're also mine, and I wanted to make it clear that MC isn't lazy nor are they someone who just does nothing and doesn't try. At least that part isn't customizable: MC works and has worked really freaking hard to be where they are.

sorry for the long response and once again, this isn't an attack on you, but this has been a topic in my inbox and i just dont get it--the demo is literally not even out.

[disenchantedif]

I’ve heard differing opinions but I was thinking of making a $3 tier on ko-fi for my $3 patreon tier stories because multiple people have said ko-fi is more accessible to them due to currency exchange.

I’m in the USA so I don’t know much about that and figured I’d ask!

Disclaimer: Everything on Patreon will stay the same. Nothing is changing on that front regardless!

The $3 ko-fi tier will just get the themed stories posted for subscribers as well (which are also currently available to the Patreon $3 tier).

Just not sure if there’s enough interest at this point! So I’ll poll I suppose!

Just trying to see what works best for everyone. Nothing is concrete rn, just doing research for the future so to speak lol.

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[kingofthewilderwest]

Hi, in the HTTYD episode "Tone Deaf", you had mentioned that Smotlouts song was a ripoff of a similar song (repetitive melody with increasing pitch). What is the artist/song title of the song that Snotlout was imitating? I remember hearing this on a radio station and have been unable to identify it. Thank you.

Hey there! I'm stoked about this because you're sneaking into my passion for folk music! Be prepared to get 500% more information than you needed! ;)

For starters, I'm glad good search engines exist to refind what you were referencing. In this 2016 post about Tone Death, I commented Hiccup's song started melodically similarly to "When Johnny Comes Marching Home," while later elements of the song sounded familiar, but I was unable to place it. I'm still unable to place it, though it sounds like another old-fashioned band tune.

Since you mentioned a repetitive melody with increasing pitch and that matches When Johnny Comes Marching Home, I'm assuming that's what you were thinking about!

I don't mind that RTTE 'used' When Johnny Comes Marching Home. It wouldn't be a ripoff in my book. It makes music in RTTE boringly unoriginal, but composers closely mirror songs (especially folk songs) constantly, and a composer would know that, if he modeled something off a famous melody like When Johnny Comes Marching Home, it'd be noticed.

I'm not going to assume knowledge or nationality here, though I know many folks online will be well-acquainted with the song. So I'll start by saying there's no artist particular to it. There's technically not even one concrete title since it's a folk song from the United States Civil War, and as with all folk songs, that means variation, variation, variation. As a child, I learned it as The Ants Go Marching One by One! There's another children's variation, The Animals Went in Two by Two.

I have to nerd out and blab on the song since your ask gives me the excuse!

Irish-born immigrant Patrick Gilmore, one of the most well-known bandleaders of his time, is said to have composed When Johnny Comes Marching Home, with lyrics, in 1863 while serving the Union in the US Civil War. It was published on September 26 under the pseudonym Louis Lambert. The song became popular with both Unionists and Confederates, as it sang about the desire to see soldiers return home. However, Gilmore acknowledged he'd adapted an older melody. Where this older melody came from, though, isn't clear-cut.

The best claims I've seen point out the tune was published in July 1863 as Johnny Fill Up the Bowl, arranged by J. Durnal. Well, where did Durnal arrange it from? I've read Johnny Fill Up the Bowl was a popular drinking song with soldiers. But that's not the origin point, either.

There's a branch of this folk tune that's Irish, Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye, published contemporarily to When Johnny Comes Marching Home. (Hmhmhmhm Gilmore was Irish.) This publication was in 1867 by Joseph B. Geoghegan. I read that was originally under a different melody, though I couldn't find a scan of the sheet music to verify that with my own two eyes.

Tracing the song back further isn't as certain. Folklorists have pointed out melodic similarities to John Anderson, My Jo. That came from Robert Burns circa 1789, but even he was placing lyrics to an earlier melody. His poem was a polite change from bawdy lyrics that existed previously - a song running back to at least 1630. There are tons of variant titles to John Anderson, My Jo, and there are reportedly about forty variations to the tune (everywhere from Sweden... to Wales... to the USA's Johnny).

Going further back then that, there's less consensus. One scholar has suggested a connection to The Three Ravens, which was first referenced in print in 1611, but would be even older than that. Another song that's been proposed is I Am the Duke of Norfolk or Paul's Steeple, first put to print in 1651, but possibly arising from an event that occurred in 1561. Presumably a ballad arose within a week of a fire that burned down a steeple at Old Saint Paul's in London.

Of course, if you listen to something like Paul's Steeple, it's quite different from Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye - but that's the nature of centuries-long folk song evolution, where new sounds, shifting melodies, different lyrics, and more spawn across generations. It's like languages... Old English ain't intelligible to today's English, but there's a direct chain of evolution linking back.

As an American, I can say When Johnny Comes Marching Home is one of the most ubiquitous folk melodies around me. Its references typically retain military connotations -- to give one example, in Guns N' Roses's Civil War.

If you heard it recently on the radio, that's heckin' cool! I know that this song keeps appearing and reappearing in pop culture in different iterations. I'm so removed from pop culture I have no idea what you might've heard that's recent. Maybe now that you know it's citing When Johnny Comes Marching Home helps! Best of luck finding what you heard.

[theproloser34]

I know that after a month or so of outrage and no concrete change can be disheartening but this shows that the outrage is getting noticed. This stuff unfortunately will take time for the powers at be to react and listen. I mean with both the writers and actors strike, that lasted months with huge support before they were resolved in the workers favor. The 2020 BLM protests lasted months before any changes (small as they were) were enacted.

With the US’s history of awful foreign policy decisions and the slow reaction to domestic outrage to those decisions, we’re gonna have to raise hell continuously until we see any reaction. But that doesn’t mean stop. And there are easy ways to continue your support and put pressure on.

This will easily mass email all your representatives about a Gaza ceasefire. I don’t know if there’s a limit to how many you can send in a day, but it takes less than 5 mins out of your day to add your voice to the call for a ceasefire.

Another easy way is to call your representative. And if you’re like me and hate talking to a real person over the phone, here’s a quick tip. CALL AT NIGHT WHEN NO ONE ANSWERS THE PHONE AND LEAVE A MESSAGE. Simple, easy, and you don’t even have to talk to anyone!

If you want to do more to try and help people down in Palestine, there is always donations that are needed and will be needed. PCRF is always linked but they are the best I know of and deserve to be linked to over and over.

As a bonus, Arab.org offers a quick and easy way to add donations to the cause. I personally can’t be too sure of how effective this is, but if it helps even a little, it’s worth to share and do.

And if you want to help someone directly in Palestine now, the best way you can do that is buy and e-sim. Currently internet access is constantly being shut down in Palestine and phone connections is the only consistent way people can get on the internet. So follow these steps, and you can help someone get access to the outside world.

I know things can feel bleak and hopeless right now, but resistance is rarely fast. Being part of a resistance is being into it for the long haul and helping consistently any way you can. Even though it’s not obvious, the pressure is being felt. Don’t lose hope and continue to help out and spread awareness.