#feb '13

[warmglowofsurvival]

"took a van-o-ramic picture. @joshuadun @salihdotchris @tylerrjoseph @MBradleyG. #fb"

[alonzoarts]

what would spamton do if he saw a spider (combining two of my interests here)

He is being very brave and attempting to scam a creepy-crawly.

[abybweisse]

Ch209, A few spoiler pages

Prepare your tissue box.

Here's the title page.

And onto the bummers....

As I suspected, we are seeing Snake's cinematic records as his soul is collected. What's surprising is this appears to be a reaper we've never seen before. I think they have dreadlocks?!? Neat! I wonder if we will ever see this reaper again.

We can see that he was 18 years old, as he was born March 15, 1871 and dies December 9, 1889. According to a fan translation on Discord, his mother's name was something like Sarah Campbell, and she was an actress.

The reaper is saying "no remarks" or "remarks: none", so they are just preparing to stamp it COMPLETE.

It's important that it's only December 9th, because that means my theory for the contract end date is still working: December 13, 1889, which is the date before our earl's 14th birthday. It's also a Friday the 13th, which marks his father's birthday and his paternal grandmother's death. His Aunt Francis/Frances might also have been born on a Friday the 13th. It's oddly fitting if our earl also dies on one.

[in-death-we-fall]

<3

[wheucto]

anyways. in the new hfjone miniseries the february 10th that the contestants disappeared on is a friday. it's unclear what year hfjone takes place in, but we can take a guess. here are some years that have a february 10th that's a friday: 2006, 2012, 2017, 2023, 2034, 2040, 2045...

out of these years, i feel like 2012, 2017, or 2023 are the most likely (esp. the last two), given those are years that have already happened, and hfjone seems to be at a technological level similar to our own.

[mikeywayarchive]

Birmingham // Feb 13th 2011 // Shari Black Velvet

[sammy-writes-sometimes]

Unconventional Relationship + AU

Word Count: 613

---------

So they were moving in together.

Okay, actually, no that was partially inaccurate. Zedaph and Tango had already been living together in a low rent apartment at the edge of the city. They'd been together for maybe two years now.

Wait, maybe ‘together’ was the wrong word…

They moved in together but that was it. Simply friends. Friends with a oddly close bond who occasionally—

Tango pulls himself straight out of that thought, pushing it to the side for later. All he needs to really worry about right now is fixing code and probably packing things in boxes, not how pretty he thinks Zedaph is.

Yet he flicks his tail almost anxiously at that thought, even as he tries to bury it.

He manages, just barely manages, to push it aside as we works on line after line of code. He doesn't even notice when day turns to evening until Zed is sitting down next to him with a curious expression and paper bag.

“I got tikka masala.” Zed says as they take a plastic container out of the bag, swiftly handing over to the netherborn.

“Oh, nice.” He hums. “Did you–”

There's another thing, this time a styrofoam box, placed on what little free space there is beside the coffee table.

All he really does is purr in response, placing the rice onto his plate after the faun hands one to him.

After a moment, Zed pulls lightly on the sleeve of Tango's hoodie. He doesn't even have to ask to know that his friend is asking for her wool to be combed.

He sighs, but laughs, before taking the comb out of his pocket.

It's steady work in-between mouthfuls of food, the little sheep humming happily as he untangles knots.

But all it really does is lead his thoughts back to one thing and—

Zed's looking at him, almost looking a bit confused.

“Tango, is something wrong?”

He blinked, flicking his tail from one side to the other. “No?”

“Your ears are falling.” She pointed out.

The netherborn moves the comb through the faun’s wool slowly, removing a leaf that has gotten stuck.

“I'm fine.” He says quietly. “I'm fine.”

Zedaph just pouts at that, looking sad at the non-response until Tango just sighs.

“Okay, fine.” He groans. “I've been thinking about the whole moving in together thing…”

She nods her head.

“I mean, we're moving in together. Who even does that?” Tango exclaimed, his tail flicking slightly.

Zedaph stares, before shrugging. “Married people? Maybe?”

“I guess?” The netherborn laughs lightly.

She hums slightly.

“Aren't Impulse and Skizz married?”

He pauses, blinking slowly. “No?”

“But they live together, don't they?”

“Yeah, but that's different.” He says quickly. “They're childhood best friends and Impulse is getting married to Bdubs–”

“Impulse isn't moving in with him.”

It's blunt, harsh as all Tango's thoughts come to a sudden halt.

“But– I thought…” He says quietly.

“Ce’s staying – for now – with cir platonic partner.” Then Zedaph laughs. “I don't think either is moving in with eachother.”

Tango slumps over, curling his tail around himself before laying it in his lap. “I… feel embarrassed that you always have to explain things to me.”

“I don't always mind it.” She laughs.

He moves from combing her wool to playing with his tail, undoing a handful of knots as he finds them.

“Uh… Zed.”

“Yeah?”

“You… what are we?”

She shrugs, not seeming to really know the answer.

“I wouldn't really mind doing something a little atypical.” He says slowly.

“Are you asking me out?”

“Maybe?!” Tango yelps.

And all either can really do with that is laugh.

“You've seen me naked!” Zedaph jokes.

“Yeah, and?” Tango laughs.

[corvidcleric]

[start i.d.: a drawing of jade harley and beq. beq is a borzoi, and jade sits beside him, her arms wrapped around him. they both look at the camera with piercing, radioactive green eyes. end i.d.]

me and my dog and an impossible view

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Nazis or neo-Nazis are not a 21st century phenomenon in the U.S. This man, Frank Moffer, was a captain in the "Khaki Shirts" of Art J. Smith. Smith promoted himself as a dashing figure who flew bomber planes for Pancho Villa and served as Kerensky's aide in Russia. Until he embraced fascism, newspapers swallowed his stories whole and found him a colorful, harmless figure.

Smith registered the Khaki Shirts as a corporation and charged for membership, clothing, and expenses--the more they paid, the higher their rank in his army. He claimed to have 2,000 members in the tri-state area and an artillery of weapons of war. (This was probably as truthful as his claims of an adventurous past.)

In July, 1933, Smith staged a rally in Astoria that was infiltrated by supporters of Carlo Tresca, an anti-fascist leader (see this post). One of them was shot dead, and the Khakis tried to pin the murder on Athos Terzani, a colleague of the dead man. Bizarrely, the police arrested him. His trial became a leftist cause celebre, with Tresca and Norman Thomas organizing Terzani's defense.

The prosecution's case crumbled when Smith changed his story and another witness recanted his earlier testimony. Terzani was acquitted and Smith's bodyguard, Moffer (pictured above in court on February 13, 1934), confessed to the shooting. Smith was convicted of perjury and faded into obscurity.

Photo: Associated Press

[lilolilyr]

♡ Moodboard for my fic Being Known ♡

[yxstxrdrxxm-a]

A small reminder as Valentine's is coming up to let me know if you plan on renting them :) I will ignore any asks when you send them of the day because that's when the queued fics will go off. Thank you.

[kraniumet]

limit theory

[someplacetobe]

🎨: @madlobotanist

[in-death-we-fall]

Horrid little photo <3

[venacoeurva]

That’s not reassuring for anyone who runs into him, but at least he tries his best!

-Please do not reupload, edit, or use.-

[mikeywayarchive]

February 13th 2023 (recorded in December 2022)

Full podcast | pic source