#radar absorbing paint

[ceyhanmedya]

Things Drivers Believe Are Keeping Them Out of Radar

New Post has been published on https://hazirbilgi.com/things-drivers-believe-are-keeping-them-out-of-radar/

Things Drivers Believe Are Keeping Them Out of Radar

Most drivers who don’t want to be caught on the radar and pay huge fines resort to ridiculous methods, all of which are urban legends, from hanging CDs in their rear view mirrors to painting license plates with hairspray. So, do these methods used by thousands of people really work?

Instead of simply following the rules, people who try to deceive the radar resort to various absurd methods consisting only of urban legends . In fact, seeing the radar and making a selector for the vehicle coming from the opposite road is one of the most innocent methods among them. 

From those who wrap the car with aluminum foil like an oven-baked chicken to the drivers who buy “ghost spray” for 2 00 TL of no use, what are the absurd methods used by people who think they are deceiving the radar and can’t get rid of the punishment again , let’s see why it doesn’t work together.

Putting a CD in the rearview mirror is just an accessory

Hanging a CD in the rear view mirror of the car is one of the most frequently used methods to evade the radar, not only in Turkey but also in many countries. The reason you hang a CD in the mirror is to think that the back of the CD reflects radar flashes back .

Let’s just say that such a thing doesn’t work at all, because the radar sensors are too powerful to be kicked back by the CD. In other words, CDs do not prevent radar cameras from taking pictures of your vehicle in any way . If you go over the speed limit and try to use such a method, all you will have is a photo of you with a CD hanging from the rear view mirror. 

Pressing the brake when you see the radar doesn’t help either.

Let’s say you are on a long road, you are breaking the rules by exceeding the speed limit. Just when you are about to enjoy the song playing on the radio, when you suddenly see the radar car on the right glowing like a disco ball, you press the brakes, it does nothing but create a danger for the vehicles behind on the highway.

The reason is also very simple. Before you see the radar vehicle, the radar vehicle has already seen you and recorded your speed limit. Radars can detect the speed of vehicles on intercity roads from 1,500 meters away . Instead of pressing the brakes after seeing the vehicle, all you have to do is move towards the police vehicle waiting for you and accept your punishment.

Don’t waste hairspray, you’ll need it on vacation

Painting a license plate with hairspray is one of the urban legends to get off the radar. In fact, some people are not only fooled by these urban legends, but also pouring money on products under the name of “plate hiding spray” or “ghost spray” . After paying a fee of 200 TL for the spray , it is also worth paying the radar fine. 

Unless you paint your license plate a dark color, it is not possible in any way to prevent it from being read or confuse the radar sensors. Therefore, wherever the journey is, it is useful to use hair sprays only for their intended purpose .

You don’t need to wrap your car with aluminum foil like a solar panel. 

One of the methods used to disrupt radar sensors is to stick aluminum foil on the hood. As you can imagine, the purpose of this is to block the radar sensors , just like hanging a CD in the rear view mirror . I don’t think we need to say that aluminum foil has no effect on radar sensors either.

Fatma Yılmaz, Turkey’s only female radar police officer, uses the following statements about the operation of radar sensors; “The CDs they put in, the aluminum foil, the hairspray have no effect. Because the device we call D3 in the working system of the radar sends signals gradually. These signals measure the speed of vehicles speeding on the road with numerical data from the collision with the air. So what they do does not affect this data in any way.”

[statementlou]

Tbh i am not surprised that a person who openly talked about having drinking problems since 1d days, because of how crazy 1d worked has been agressive. What surprises me is people being surprised (they never seriously saw drunk person?). But i am also confused about this whole book. Apparently Maya said that that book is not fully bout Liam but compilation about her exes and some of the worst parts are not about him. But recently she said that the book is “ofc about him” so what is true then? Or did she meant it that ofc some parts are about him or that whole book is about him?

Sorry, just confused

I also am not surprised- we've learned so much more about the real stories of things and about the guys' actual lives over the last years, and the story that has unfolded around Liam has been totally consistent throughout if you've been following it, and so the information Maya is telling us is shocking and upsetting but not difficult to believe. I got an anon yesterday saying they were worried about getting similar revelations about the other boys, like "if Liam could be doing this we just don't know, any of them could", and while in a way that's always true I guess, anyone could be doing anything in private like... that doesn't really concern me. Because none of these Liam revelations are coming out of nowhere, there have been many MANY steps along the way leading us here if you've been watching, and he has talked openly about both his mental health struggles and his addiction issues. So to answer that anon... to find out something similar about Louis would in contrast contradict everything we know about him and no I'm not worried about it. Is he probably very irritating, absolutely, but an abuser or a loose cannon, well that news would shock me. But anyway as for the book I don't find it strange that she was nervous when it came out and treading lightly and later decided, fuck it. In the absolutely on point tiktok she dropped today (YES👏GIRL👏FUCKING TELL THEM👏) she even mentions attempts to keep her from publishing the book, presumably by Liam's team, that I am riveted by and cannot WAIT to hear more details about actually- like I said I don't find it at all strange that she was nervous and downplayed it a bit then. But if she says now that it's just about Liam, well, I would say it's been clear from the beginning that the book is their story. Maya herself brought up the parallel of songs being written about stuff and I think it's the same thing; it's true (she was in an abusive relationship that involved certain kinds of events) but maybe not 100% literal (I'm sure details were changed to make the story work, it's not like a word for word timeline of their interactions or whatever).

[fictionalafvsmybeloved]

I had an idea last night. Inflatable decoy planes are still a thing,

So, imagine, inflatable decoy Aeromorphs,

Flawless and gorgeous, indistinguishable from the ones made of metal and electronics until you get up close and see how her curves are rounder, how her skin is rubber and vinyl instead of radar absorbent paint on metal, the way she sags just a little in the wings and the ways she's anchored so that jet wash and wind doesn't blow her away.

Still they're just as diligent in their duties as the ones who actually take flight, vapidly lounging next to runways and in hangers with a near permanent grin on their faces, playing an elaborate shell game during take-offs and landings to disguise who's who, waiting for their aluminum lookalikes to return to their waiting arms to relieve them of the aches the technicians and mechanics can't.

When the day's fighting ends and the hanger doors close both beauties retire to each other's company, steel and softness intertwining as they take what time they can to rest in each other's embrace before they must ready their companions for the next day.

[narrycherries]

love of my life

⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ✩°｡⋆

✩ chapter 02: please don’t be too good to be true ✩

word count: 3.08k

warnings/tags/info

chapter 01

It was my fourth day in this city, and thankfully it wasn’t raining anymore. I couldn’t do much for a few days except try some restaurants and ride around to see the city from the car’s window. However, I have a good day ahead of me. The French Quarter is one of the most popular places to visit here, and I would be a fool not to experience it. I still had a lot of places on my radar, some that were tourist attractions and others that were hidden gems.

“So.. you never told me how much you paid her.” Chris sighed as he tossed his empty Coke bottle into a trash bin.

“Doesn’t matter.” I shrugged, my eyes roaming over everything as we walked. My sunglasses made things darker, but it made hiding a bit easier.

“Don’t be a prick.”

I huffed. “Five thousand.” He stopped in his tracks, mouth agape as I looked over at him. “What?”

“What do you fancy more.. the painting or the girl?”

My eyes rolled. “She deserves it. She’s talented and she underprices her work.”

“Mhm, I’m sure that’s why.”

“So.. what are we doing next?” I changed the topic quickly before it got out of hand.

Chris sighed as we began to walk again. “Going to see the cathedral.”

We both became silent as we walked down the sidewalk. My eyes were everywhere, taking in the sights and absorbing the feelings. This city was full of culture and diversity and just happiness. All I saw were smiles and happy faces. Chris and I walked until we finally ended up at a corner. My gaze shifted from the people to the huge building in front of us. I could see the side of the St. Louis Cathedral and it was marvelous. Chris guided me through a crowd of people watching a magician. There was a line of women offering to read palms, a couple of street food venders, and what seemed to be a large collection of artists spread out around the area.

Chris looked over at me as we stepped off the sidewalk. “This has got to be a joke, right?”

I furrowed my brows, not entirely sure what he meant. “What?”

He pointed over to the left of us. I followed his movements and tried to line my eyes up with whatever he saw. I was looking, trying to determine it, but I had no clue. When I looked back up at him, he sighed and stepped behind me. He grabbed my shoulders and angled me so I could see whatever it was that baffled him. He pointed directly in front of us and I focused my eyes there. It took me a moment, but I finally realized what he was referring to.

“God.. it must be fate, yeah?”

He huffed. “Luck.”

I smirked and shook off his hand. Chris wasn’t happy when I started walking away from him. He caught up with me and made sure I was as unnoticed as possible. The closer I got to the table, the faster my heart thumped. I licked my lips as I reached the small crowd. Everyone was occupied by looking at some of the canvases, so I took the opportunity to cease the moment I so desperately wanted.

“Those are lovely.” I said, glancing at the small canvases that were placed on stands.

She whipped around, eyes wide and lips parted as she saw me. I grinned at her, lifting the sunglasses up so I could see her better.

“Jennifer.”

“Ha-Harry.. um. Thank you.” She laughed through a breath. “I.. I see you’re exploring the city.”

“You’re welcome.” I nodded. “Of course. Such an interesting place.”

She smiled back, cheeks flushed and eyes dropping from mine. She turned back around to finish putting the paintings on the display stands. I watched her, completely fascinated by her work. She had a great talent. When she faced me again, she glanced at Chris. I gave him a look as well, and somehow he understood. He stepped away, observing some of her other works and giving us some space.

“How are you liking it here?”

“It’s very nice.” I smiled.

She smiled back. “It is.”

“You knew who I was.. the other day.” I blurted, shoving my hands into my pockets.

She took a deep breath, her fingertips tracing over her white table cloth. “Mhm.”

“You.. you didn’t say anything.”

Jennifer shrugged, eyes flicking to mine. “Did you want me to? By your.. outfit.. I was under the impression that you were hiding.”

I chuckled, letting a bigger smile take over my face. It pulled a smile onto her lips as well. “That’s true.. I’m trying to enjoy a vacation for once.”

“It must be exhausting.. trying to hide all the time.”

I exhaled deeply. “Extremely.”

“Excuse me?” A voice caught her attention and interrupted our conversation.

She gave me an apologetic smile. “Just a minute.”

I nodded as she turned away from me to deal with the curious customer. My eyes remained on the table where she had a few smaller paintings and a stack of business cards. The corner of my mouth twitched up as I heard her voice and how professional she is. She was definitely a businesswoman, even if she didn’t realize. She seemed to know how to talk to her customers well.

“How much is this one here?” The woman pointed to the painting across from me.

“That one is two hundred. I can have it shipped to you for two-twenty five.”

“That’s perfect! I will gladly take that off your hands.”

Jennifer laughed ever so slightly, almost like she was surprised. “Here’s some information on the piece.. how to clean it and store it. Also all of my information in case you ever need anything.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw the woman take the papers from her. “Alright.”

“And this,” she handed her a few more. “.. I’ll need your name, address, and contact information. If you don’t want to ship it, then ignore the address stuff. I will take a check if you need to do that.”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll fill this out real quick. I can carry it with me, no need to ship.” The lady grabbed a pen from the cup by another stack of business cards and stepped away to write her stuff down.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Jennifer had her attention back on me. She sighed and shook her head before looking up at me, catching my gaze.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, no, you’re fine. I.. shouldn’t be distracting you.”

She smiled gently. “I’m having your painting shipped tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s good, thanks.”

Her cheeks blushed just a little. “You shouldn’t have.”

“What?”

Her eyes rolled. “That check.. all that money.”

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s perfectly fine. If you would’ve allowed it I would’ve given you triple of what I did give you.”

“Why, though?” She huffed, cocking an eyebrow at me. “Why so much?”

The smirk growing on my lips seemed to make her a little nervous. I noticed how her face flushed and her tongue came out to lick her lips. I saw another person approach the table, but I was determined to keep her attention for a while longer.

“Because I loved the painting. It’s beautiful.” I shrugged to keep things nonchalant, even though she made my heart race. “The water, the sea foam, the sun.. There are many reasons why it’s so beautiful.”

“Not five thousand reasons.” She glanced at the customer who was eyeing each piece intensely. “I’m sorry, but, um.. I don’t really have time to chat.”

“Later, then?”

Jennifer let out a breathy laugh. “Later?”

I ran a hand through my hair, nervousness was taking me over. “Yeah. You’ve got my number.. I’ve got yours.”

“Um, I.” She paused, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. “I don’t know.. about later.”

I made sure she saw me smile, I wanted her to feel comfortable. “Then tomorrow.. or whenever.. I’d love to treat you to dinner.. or lunch, breakfast.. whichever you prefer.”

There was no hiding her blushing cheeks now. She was trying to compose herself and hide her shock with light laughs. She kept glancing at the customer, yet her eyes kept landing on mine, too. She did not want to look away, I could tell, but she was right - she didn’t have time to talk. She had a business, a job she was doing and I was rudely distracting her.

“So I’ll hear from you?” I slowly started to back away from the table.

She swept her long hair out of her face, lips shaping to a smirk. “Later.”

—-

To say I was nervous would be the very least. I was extremely terrified, yet excited about hearing from that amazing woman. I wanted to call her myself, maybe send her a message - but I refrained. I didn’t want to seem pushy, and I wanted her to be comfortable with any communication we had. It was already late into the day. I began to worry about whether or not she would send something or call. What was her version of later?

After our encounter earlier, I completely ditched my plans and insisted we go back to the hotel. I was too frazzled to do anything else. Chris was hesitant at first, and he attempted to change my mind. He failed to do so. I just wanted to be at the hotel and be alone. The city was nice, and touring was going well, I just didn’t want to be around so many people.. I wanted to rot in my room and think about her.

“Still waiting?” Chris shut the balcony door behind him.

“Unfortunately.”

He sighed back. “Worried she won’t call?”

I shrugged, trying not to be too concerned with it. “Not worried.. just impatient.”

My phone was resting on my thigh, but the screen hadn’t lit up since I came out here. Part of me was worried - extremely worried. What if I said something wrong? Did I make her feel weird? Was I too open?

“I think she likes you.”

A gentle smile played on my lips. “I think I like her.”

Chris laughed. “I know you like her.”

“Must be obvious.. Think she’s got any idea?”

“Probably.” He grabbed the handle of the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me know what the plans are in the morning.”

“Alright.”

Despite overlooking some of the city, it was quiet on the balcony. The temperature was nice and it allowed me to relax. I had calmed down a lot since I first stepped out here. My mind was lost, drifting through a ton of thoughts all related to her. What was she like when she painted? I bet she was precise and meticulous - every single stroke of the brush would be accurate and perfect. What was she like in her home away from other people? I wonder if she liked to read or if she preferred a good movie. Did she enjoy fruits or did she have a sweeter tooth? What did she do when she wasn’t occupied with a painting? Did she draw? Did she do ceramics? Did she dabble in any other forms of art?

I wondered if she had a studio or did she paint from a small bedroom in a crowded apartment. Was she solely an artist, or did she have a regular day to day job? I even began to think about things beyond her daily life. Was she an only child? Did she favor her mother? Was she even from the city or did she move here? What were her college years like, did she even attend? Had she been growing her hair out for years or did it grow quickly with each trim? What sort of weather did she prefer? Surely, it couldn’t be anything too cold or icy, at least not if she’s used to be down here.

The sudden ding of my phone made me flinch. I snatched it off my leg and quickly unlocked the screen. My heart started to pump violently, quick and sharp breaths came from my lungs. It was her. I had already saved her number into my phone before I even saw her today, so that was a convenient move. All of this was making me feel like a desperate teenager.

From Jennifer: hello, hope it isn’t too late

A laugh fell from my lips. What a cheeky thing she was. I took a deep breath while typing my reply. I was unsure if I should immediately reply or not. Would that send an awkward message? I had been waiting all day, and I’m sure she expected a reply.

To Jennifer: hi, it definitely isn’t too late :)

I stood up from the chair and went back inside my suite. My body was tired, but my heart and mind were wide awake. I laid down on the bed, eyes locked on the screen waiting for a new message. After a minute, I worried that she wouldn’t be quick with a response. I wondered if she thought that would make her seem desperate? I had the same thought about myself.

From Jennifer: good, I would’ve been disappointed if it was :)

To Jennifer: I’d hate to disappoint you

A wave of relief washed through me. Maybe she was just as interested in me as I was in her. She truly was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

From Jennifer: I’m sure you won’t

To Jennifer: so, have you picked which meal you’d like me to treat you with? I’m sure you know the best restaurants around

From Jennifer: no I haven’t actually :) surprise me?

To Jennifer: well, when are you available?

From Jennifer: busy tomorrow, but the next day I’m free all day :) just let me know when!

To Jennifer: let me know where?

From Jennifer: I will.

From Jennifer: I hate to go, but I’m very tired. Got a busy day ahead :/

To Jennifer: that’s perfectly understandable. I’ll text you tomorrow then

From Jennifer: okay! good night :)

To Jennifer: goodnight

I tossed the phone on the nightstand and put my hands over my face. My heart was fluttering and my stomach was flipping like I had just jumped out of an airplane. Normally, I was more composed than this. This girl has me feeling like I’ve never spoken to a human being before.. and I was enjoying the insane feelings.

—

I hardly got any sleep last night. The overwhelming thought of seeing her again was eating me alive. Why was I so nervous? Usually, I’m very relaxed and comfortable when it comes to meeting new people or going on dates, if that’s what I can call it. But for some reason, all of that confidence and familiarity has gone down the drain. I’ve been acting like a teenage virgin who’s going on his very first date.

The worst part about all of this was that I still have to wait an entire day. I decided that I needed some help with the details, and I just wanted to know someone’s opinion. There was no better person to call than my mother.

The phone rang a few times, then her cheerful voice picked up. “Honey, hi!”

“Hi, Mum.”

“How are you doing, sugar? Having a good time, I hope.”

I sighed. “It’s going well, yeah.. um.. I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Oh,” She seemed very surprised. “What is it?”

I took a deep breath, then squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m.. going on a date tomorrow.”

“Wow, okay. This is mighty early for you to be telling me about a woman.. you usually wait a couple of weeks.” She quickly responded the way I expected her to.

This has never happened, I always, always wait to see how things go before telling her. I don’t like getting her hopes up.

“When.. when did you meet her?” She asked after my moment of silence.

“Few days ago. I know it’s.. very soon, but.. trust me.. I.. I feel something.”

“Honey, I.. you know I love you and I’m going to always support you..” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “But, baby, you’ve only been there a few days.. how can you be sure that you’ve felt something special?”

“The way I feel around her, Mum. I.. I feel like I’m floating.. like I’m looking at something that’s too good to be true, like an angel. Gosh, she’s such an angel.”

“What do you know about her?”

I paused for a second. “Not.. not a lot, yet. But.. I know I want to know everything, I never want her to disappear.”

Mum chuckled very faintly. “You’re the sweetest boy on earth, Harry. You deserve love.. and happiness. But.. I don’t want you to rush into something because you’re heartbroken.”

My chest tightened as I rolled my eyes. “It’s been over a year. I’m fine now. Besides.. I don’t even think about that when I’m around this girl.”

“How.. how are you sure that this girl isn’t.. interested because of who you are?”

I sighed heavily. “Mum, trust me. Please, just.. trust me.”

“I want what’s best for you, honey. I.. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

Despite not wanting to tell her everything all at once, I figured I owed her an explanation of some sorts. Besides, it isn’t like its a bad story to tell.

“I went to the museum the other day.. the art museum. There was a special exhibit and she was set up there.. I bought one of her pieces.”

“She’s an artist?”

I smiled at the word. “For sure. She’s incredible, Mum. But.. I saw her again, yesterday.”

“You went back to the museum to see her?” She asked curiously.

“No, I saw her somewhere else. I talked to her for a few minutes and.. we kinda arranged a date.”

“Oh, well.. that’s a lovely coincidence.”

I sighed gently. “Mum.. I really want this to work out.”

“Then let it play out naturally, darling. Don’t rush anything or.. try to push anything to happen.”

At this point, my biggest fear was losing this girl. I didn’t necessarily have her in any way yet, but the opportunity to get to know her was enough motivation. Nothing in my personal life had seemed to work out in the past, and for once I just wanted something genuine.

…

[a/n: unfortunately the day I chose to upload followed a very sad, tragic event.. sending my thoughts, prayers, condolences, & love to Liam’s family, his friends, to the other four boys, and to all the little directioners still living in our hearts, 13 year old me is shattered.. — remember to have some humanity.. despite anything he did or didn’t do during his life.. he is someone’s child, brother, father, and friend, and his loved ones deserve respect during this time 🫶🏻]

taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harlowsgirl l @lomllover @haniaaa04 @sideboobrry11 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @devilsqueen722 @prettygurl-2009 @fangirl509east @fruity-harry @devilsqueen722 @prettygurl-2009 (there are a few tags that aren’t working so if you don’t see your tag & know you’re on the list .. message me!)

[apocalypseornaw]

Don't Blame Me (Pt 3/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean confronts Crowley who recounts exactly what did happen to you, sparing no details to Dean's horror. You look for a way to ward yourself from Dean finding you.

Dean was half in shock when you blinked out. You were alive? When he looked at Crowley he knew the anger he felt showed in his eyes because the demon took a step back even before Dean grabbed him, slamming him back into a wall. "BRING HER BACK"

Crowley shook his head slowly "I didn't send her a way and I try not to summon her. She gets upset, it causes a mess. She killed ten demons the first time I summoned her and let's just say I like keeping her as calm as possible"

Dean shook his head before pulling the demon blade up to hold the point against Crowleys neck "Last time I saw her she was getting on a plane. What the fuck did you do to her?" Crowley laughed sharply "What did I do? Squirrel you should really ask what did you do?"

Dean's grip loosened at Crowleys words "What do you mean what Dean did?" Sam asked as Crowley untangled himself from Dean's grasp. Crowleys eyes were on Dean when he said "She made a deal. I didn't go after her soul. It was already in hell"

Dean shook his head "She wouldn't. Y/N knows the risks" Crowley shrugged "and yet she did for you" "for me?" Dean asked and Crowley sighed "This is dramatic. Her soul already went to hell so contract fulfilled. She's gonna try to kill me but.." before Dean or Sam could ask Crowley touched two fingers to Dean's forehead. Flashes of an Okami, pain of claws ripping into his chest and the heartbreaking sound of your sobs tore through Dean's head.

"She couldn't face losing you so she made a deal. Be glad I took over when I did. Lucifer and his flunkies were having fun with your girl" "She wouldn't agree to be a demon" Sam argued but Crowley shrugged "A little over four hundred years of torture. A hundred of those were under Lucifer and Zachariah. She's stronger than most of the souls in hell but the things they did to her.." he trailed off and Dean could feel his jaw clench with anger even before Crowley met his eyes "No angelic interference for her, guess she wasn't important enough. I needed an attack dog. Someone who if they were spotted working at my side the threats were taken seriously"

"So you've been using her?" Sam asked. Crowley scoffed "I gave her freedom from the racks. I put her body back together so she'd have it. I made sure to keep her off the angels radar. I've gotten her to kill a few dozen demons but nothing she wouldn't have done in life. How the hell have I been using her? Would you two prefer me to have left her to an eternity of whatever being decided to plunge a blade or other things into her?"

Dean swallowed down the bile in his throat at Crowleys words and the images that accompanied them to ask "Why didn't she let me know?"  and Crowley laughed again "Did you not see that little performance? She was afraid you'd hate her so she stayed off the beaten path" "Then why did you bring her here tonight?" Sam demanded.

"She's wrong for lack of better terms. She shouldn't care like she still does, shouldn't have so much left of her human personality. Her soul was stronger than I gave it credit for. If she stays a demon she's gonna e a threat to my throne" Dean swung without thinking and connected a hard punch to Crowleys jaw "You've kept her from me for years, YEARS. and now you're only telling me so she can't dethrone you? The only reason I'm not killing you is so you can help me find her"

Ireland, Scotland, Australia, New Zealand and South America. It was hard to find a coven that would play well with a demon, let alone one marked by the king of hell as his right hand woman but you finally did. 

You sat in the middle of the circle, watching the woman paint sigils onto your skin. Once she was done she rejoined the circle. You sat silently as they chanted, the sigil glowing then absorbing into your skin. You looked at the head witch "No one can summon me now?" She nodded "Your boss can probably still get a feed on where you are but no one can summon you" you paid her the fee and thanked the rest of the coven before blinking out. You were back in Washington state, almost at the Canadian line. 

-------------

You had a cabin there, somewhere you stayed when Crowley didn't need you at his side. Somewhere you were able to ignore everything that had happened. You weren't right as a demon. They weren't supposed to feel, weren't supposed to care yet here you were. 

------------

You washed your face then looked at yourself in the mirror letting your eyes slip to black. Even as a demon you were held together by paperclips and rubber bands. The memory of the look on Dean's face flashed through your head and you smashed the mirror. What the hell were you supposed to do now?

@lacilou @suckitands33 @lyarr24 @decadentstrangernacho @nix-rose @irgendwas122 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @tas898 @starkleila

[usafphantom2]

it is the more fuel it needs. Ben came to Kelly with the idea of an to use a softer titanium Alloy instead of the brittle hard one they were using by reducing the heat of the airplane surface. They would be able to use the softer alloy titanium which they purchased from Russia/Soviet Union.

The CIA WOULD invent companies such as a pizza-making oven to buy their titanium. Ben recalled his university courses that black paint could be heat admitters as well as a heat absorber. Kelly thought it over and then gave Ben a quarter Kelly Johnson rarely gave out a quarter. He paid him the token quarter because he decided that Ben was right they should paint the A-12/SR 71 black, wait there’s more… In the paint. It held secret tiny iron microscopic pieces that dissipated electronic radiation. This would help scramble the image of a Blackbird enemy radar scope.

They said everything that they did to make these beautiful fastest airplanes in the world was difficult and a miracle, perhaps that’s why in the year 2024 there is nothing like the SR 71. God bless America 🇺🇸

Linda Sheffield

[captain-price-unofficially]

F-117 #781 stripped of its radar-absorbent coating and sporting the unique "Toxic Death" paint scheme.

[moustacherie]

Marauder! Another perpetually-in-progress finally complete. I'm especially a fan of the little antenna barbels I added, gives it vibes of the original unseen.

The Exterminator! The most sneeki-breeki stealth boy out there. The base color was a custom mix meant to evoke the radar-absorbing paint look from the SR-71 and F-117, and I'm especially proud of the freehand Star League emblem.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Odd question but do the daycare attendant of the skelly bois clean themselves? The models of Sundrop and Moondrop are… honestly quite fithly is you look at em, like Sundrop god a whole as grimy seemingly adult handprint on his chest and torso (same with Moon, but his slouch makes it harder to see/ notice). Which is concerning… being they work with kids, the health and safety of the daycare kids is their main priority. If the one taking care of them isn’t even clean, the lot of em would get sick right? Since they don’t got to strong immune systems yet. Or he’ll even making Mc sick

Sadly the daycare seems to be… honestly kinda abandoned in comparison to the rest of the pizzaplex, sure safety is something Fazbear has never really cared for, that’s easy af to see. Bur the daycare? Seems to do worse then most

Would Mc have to clean the big lads up? A “spa day” of sorts - Like give an an good scrub? Give em a new paint job and polish? Even with Skulls many arms there are places I asume they can’t really reach, Red I fell like will definitely tease at the intimate kinda touching, Sans will make this more difficult somehow and Skull? Just a absorb all the attention and affection he can get knowing him alright

Idk was just a thought, have a good day/ night night Llama

A great question!

Technically, the boys have to clean themselves. But you can imagine how something like that would slip under the radar, when you're juggling taking care of kids/cleaning up after them/preparing for them beforehand/being a makeshift security guard for the entire mall/holding back a secret third part of yourself out of fear he'll hurt someone. Usually, they manage the bare minimum of removing obvious stains. But there's some parts of themselves they can't see and don't think to clean. Not like they'll let anyone touch them, either, they're not keen on some rando getting handsy.

... In comes Mc. And after working with them, she decides they need a clean. Not just because of hygiene reasons- because they deserve to feel clean. Everyone does.

She gets clearance to come in on one of the rare days the mall is closed, to give the DCA something of a makeover. Unpaid, of course. The boys are more than happy to let her touch, so there's no issues there; and since she wants to make sure she doesn't miss anything, she cleans Red AND Sans.

Red gets the paint and marker crust scrubbed out of his joints, he gets his body wiped down and his tooth polished (he makes a joke about having something else she can polish, which results in a swift wack to the head), she picks dust out of his teeth and the cracks he never got around to until his joints are whirring smoother than the day he came to life. Sans gets his soft fabrics deep cleaned and steamed, his furs combed out until they're smooth, his sticky fingers wiped down... all in the dark by just the glow of his eyelights. She even repaints some of their respective markings- Red's stripes, and Sans' stars.

... At one point, she's cleaning Sans, and she turns around to wash off her cloth. And when she turns back... it's not Sans sitting there, anymore. Someone much taller is in his place, one great big eye staring down at her.

"... O-oh. Hi Skull. I-I didn't expect to see you today...!"

"..."

"... You wanna get cleaned too?"

...

... Skull gets HIS stars done in glow-in-the-dark paint.

[quarkasgod]

Tornado chasers AU continuation

• Zemo's never been interested in YouTube, but recently his colleague showed him new video analysis programs, neural net that can analyze particles movements and predict something based on this

So he searches for videos and, of course, finds James channel and starts watching. After the mesmerizing beautiful video of weather ends (which for a second distracts Helmut from the working day) a short vlog turns on, James shows how his car is arranged. On the white paint of the car you can partially see the reflection of a man, but James does not turn the camera around, does not show his face. None of his videos show his face, and that makes Zemo think.

He notices a slightly elongated red star on the driver's door and becomes curious. He leaves a comment "what about the star?". A few hours later, he receives a reply: "Watched a movie recently, Black Eagle :) " God, what a fool, Zemo thinks.

• James appreciates his SUV and doesn't appreciate asphalt roads. If he needs to, he will drive through a field or a sparse forest. He's already been caught by the police several times, he was lucky that it happened in different states.

•• They meet during one of the storms. 

While Helmut is setting up the equipment on some hill, James is quickly approaching from the side of the field in his car. Zemo Immediately recognizes it, it is quite difficult to miss - a snow-white angular SUV with an uneven red star on the door.

"What the hell are you doing here? It's going to blow" James points to the mesocyclone above. Zemo doesn't quite understand how this could happen, but he feels he has to run. James shouts at him, "Get in!" and opens the passenger door. Zemo deftly jumps inside. "My car is there," he points somewhere to the side, but they are already rushing back to the field, James drives them away from danger and stops only when the sun begins to illuminate the surroundings

"What the fuck were you doing there?"

"Installing the equipment!"

"What?"

"Wind sensors."

"So you're a meteorologist? Who can't figure out what he's in the most dangerous place of the storm?"

"I know what I'm doing. I had a car parked nearby. All I had to do was run to it and leave."

He was lying, of course he could identify dangerous places from maps and indicators from sensors, but he was too rarely in the open field to feel danger subconsciously.

"Yeah. And which way would you go?"

Zemo thought about it. It's not exactly where James took them.

"That's it. Check the radars, you will find out the full picture"

"My tablet is in the car"

"Take mine"

"...Thank you."

• All this haste, Zemo only now realized, he finally saw the face of that chaser with a camera from YouTube. He likes the feeling. Like he's revealed a secret.

•• They are watching the clouds from afar and the sun is already setting. A thunderstorm is rumbling in the distance.

Bucky unpacks the camera and sets it up to try to record sprites. Zemo has not felt so calm for a long time and he absorbs every second with his skin. He climbs onto the roof of the car and watches from above as after each flash of lightning, James looks out for their barely noticeable echoes in the sky. His face focused, almost stern.

Zemo receives a notification - video analysis is completed. He needs to go back to work and check the model. But the storm gradually subsides, and the sky is covered with a layer of semi-translucent lumpy clouds. Evening sunlight, seeping through the clouds, falls on the green hills, fields and the city in the distance, illuminating everything around with red gold.

No, he can't leave now.

[buttonloops]

okay, anxiety around writing in particular

so I had a bit of a creatively stunting upbringing

all fiction was strictly forbidden until I was fifteen. I occasionally snuck some in under the radar, but was always wracked with guilt afterwards

my dad said the reason was that fiction sets up unrealistic expectations, that life doesn't work like it does in stories

the problem is

I've been compulsively telling stories since I was a toddler

literally started trying to write a novel when I was seven

all this interdict really ended up doing was consuming me in guilt and really severely stunting my creative guilt

I didn't start learning how stories *work,* like, the instinctive way from absorbing countless fairy tales and epics and novels, until later. I wrote my first novel at fourteen, when I was still forbidden from reading Winnie the Pooh or the Chronicles of Narnia.

I... still haven't made peace with that emptiness. With the aching need for fantasy and fancy that gnawed at me for the first half of my life.

The pain of it still takes my breath away.

Honestly, I think it was the cruellest thing my father ever did. And he didnt even know what he was doing.

(honestly, he was just following his own anxiety about being a good person, his own inner demons that told him he was following the will of god)

I quit writing for years as a young adult. Because somewhere in my brain the thought had burrowed in that stories = bad and fiction = evil and I wanted my parents to approve of me. So I abandoned the thing that came so naturally to me and got a whole degree in something that was like pulling teeth, something that I struggled constantly with, until finally when I graduated I finally had to admit that the thought of actually looking for a job in that field made me actively suicidal and I had to do something else.

I've written on and off as an adult. Slowly creeping my way back to it. Limbering up the stiff muscles. Trying to learn how stories work. Reading and reading and reading, insatiably, sometimes as much as a book a day.

But all the adult anxieties lie thick over my efforts, often thick enough to push me back.

Because now there's years of fandom purity culture and cinemasins and plot hole discourse rotting through my head, swirling together with that old old notion that fiction is bad insofar as it is unrealistic.

I've gotten to the point that I can enjoy reading tropey, cheesy power fantasies and other flights of fancy.

But I still freeze up, locking up absolutely rigid when I try to write them. My perfectionism (...my anxiety) screams "that's ridiculous, that would never work, that's absurd, how do they pay the rent? Shouldn't they be more stressed about work? No one's that good at what they do!"

I've tried writing "realistic" stories which of course gets excruciatingly depressing and tedious.

I still want to write. Desperately. Constantly.

Part of me screams "if you really cared about it that much you'd be doing it, instead of wasting so much time avoiding it and wishing you knew how to start"

Another, gentler part of me points out that if I didn't care about writing, it wouldn't bother me not to be doing it. I'm not regularly consumed by longing and wistful guilt over my lack of ...idk, boxing matches or racecar driving or painting.

Just writing.

I still have this dream, this dream I've had since I was a kid, that someday I'll make a career out of being a novelist.

(as unrealistic as that is, too)

Anyway. I'm reexamining all this through the lens of anxiety. And I wanted to talk about a core defining trauma that I carry with me. Thanks for listening.

[starset21]

Sincerely, Yours

Standard disclaimer: I only own my original characters, I've done some research but there will likely be Navy/military inaccuracies, and I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under @.itswildflower Summary: Training gets serious

Looking for previous chapters? Sincerely, Yours Masterlist  

Chapter 6:

“Morning…” Warlock addresses the class. “The uranium enrichment plant that is your target will be operational earlier than expected. Raw uranium will be delivered to the plant in ten days' time. To avoid contaminating the target valley with radiation, your mission has been moved up one week.” Elliot and Ria share a look, the latter biting her lip. “Sir, no one here has successfully flown the low-level course,” Coyote spoke up from his seat beside Hangman. “Nevertheless, you have been ordered to move on. Captain.” As the class absorbs this, Warlock nods to Maverick to take over. “We have one week left to focus on phase two - the most difficult stage of the mission: a pop-up strike with a steep dive requiring nothing less than two consecutive miracles. Two pairs of F-18s will fly in a welded wing formation. Teamwork - the precise coordination of these aircraft - is essential to both the mission’s success and your survival,” Maverick said looking them all in the eyes before a simulation of the mission begins to play out in slow, deliberate motion.

 “As you know, the plant rests between two mountains. To maintain the lowest possible altitude, you’ll invert directly into a steep dive. Your target is an impact point less than three meters wide.” The aircraft in the simulation climb a mountain and roll onto their backs at the peak before diving, upside down. They roll upright and dive steeply. “The two-seat aircraft will paint the target with a laser bullseye. The lead single seat will breach the reactor by dropping a laser-guided bomb through an exposed ventilation shaft on the surface. That’s miracle number one.” In the simulation, the first team’s bomb hits and the planes pull out. “Second team delivers the kill shot.” The second team’s bomb hits and the target is destroyed. “Miracle number two. If you can’t hold your dive, if you lose your laser lock, you’ll miss. If either team misses... You fail. Egress is a steep, high G climb out. And this is where you’ll be at your most vulnerable,” Maverick says. “This... is coffin corner,” he continues pointing to the point at which they’d have to start climbing again. The class of aviators shares looks. This is bad. “Should you manage to avoid this mountain, you’ll climb straight up, into enemy radar, losing all your airspeed. Within seconds, you’ll be fired upon by enemy SAMs.” Animated planes climb into a hailstorm of SAMs. They take evasive action and dive immediately. “How fast you can dive back down into the canyon, will mean the difference between life and death.”

“A climb like that, at that speed, we’ll be pulling at least eight Gs,” Jake spoke up. “Nine. Minimum,” Maverick corrected. “The stress limit of the F-18s airframe is 7.5,” Bradley said staring at Maverick. Neither man blinks. “That’s the accepted limit. To survive this mission you’ll have to pull beyond that, even if it means bending your airframe.” He points to the animation of lethal-looking SAMs firing on climbing F-18s on the screen. “Climbing out of that canyon, you’ll be a sitting duck, with SAMs coming at you from all directions. You’ll weigh close to two thousand pounds, fighting with everything you have just to keep from blacking out, your lungs imploding like an elephant is sitting on your chest - your skull crushing your spine.” The reality of this hits home in all of the aviators. There’s a high likelihood that one of them would not be coming back. Maverick points to the canyon map on the screen. “Your only chance of survival will be to get what’s left of your aircraft below radar again. Then follow this canyon back to the carrier. That’s if you strike the target on time. If you don’t, you may have an even bigger problem to contend with.” Maverick clicks the remote and on the screen, the enemy’s vaunted fifth-generation fighter appears. “You’ll be flying in a damaged F-18 against one of the most lethal fighter planes ever produced.” A heavy silence settles in the room. “Sir... is this even achievable?” Natasha asks after a moment. “In the end, the answer to your question will come down to the pilot in the box,” Maverick tells them, looking each of them in the eyes again. 

First up was Rooster with Pheonix and Bob. The rest of the aviators watched on the screens in the main room as they headed toward a U-shaped cluster of rusted-out shipping containers that were being used to simulate the target. Hangman with Payback and Fanboy followed them, flying at the same target, a small steel target drum behind the containers. Both teams’ aircraft fly in tandem mimicking the maneuver Maverick had shown them. They climb the fake mountain, rolling onto their backs at the imaginary peak. The teams dive toward the shipping containers that guard the target. Hangman and Payback miss the target and begin the flight back to base. Rooster curses to himself when he sees his missile miss the target by almost a hundred feet. “That’s a miss. That’s a miss.” Rooster sighs and flips off his mask. “Sorry, Bob. That’s on me,” he says as the pair begins the journey back to base. After that Maverick decides to try only one pair at a time.  “Tempest, Denver, Coyote, you’re up,” Maverick called out and the three aviators looked at each other before nodding and moving to get their flight gear on.

 “We’re twelve seconds late on target. We gotta move, we gotta move,” Denver called out. “I’m going as fast as I can,” Coyote replied. “Blue team, you are spotted,” Maverick calls out as the radar beeps. “Bandit, Bandit. Radar contact. 20 miles left, ten o’clock. He’s coming fast. 700 knots closure,” Denver relayed. “Shit, it’s Maverick,” Coyote cursed. “Stay focused,” Ria reminded them. “He’s swinging around to the north,” Denver informs her. “What do you want to do?” Coyote asked. “Continue. We’re close. Stay on target. Be ready on that laser, Denver,” Ria ordered. “On it…” Denver responded, reaching for a knob, constantly working. “Popping in 3-2-1,” Coyote and Tempest say together. They arc into the sky, rolling over to begin their 45-degree dive down the invisible mountain. “Talk to me, Denver. Where is Maverick?” Coyote grunts out. “I’m a little busy right now,” Denver replies, focused on readying the laser. “We got this Coyote,” Tempest encourages. “Captured!” Denver exclaims. “Got it. Bombs away,” Coyote replied but as he hits his payload trigger a warning light flashed. “Malfunction,” he informs them and tries again. And again. “Damnit! Hung bomb. Hung bomb.” Coyote curses under his breath before pulling out of the steep dive and starting the dangerous climb to coffin corner. Tempest and Denver were close behind him, straining under the intense Gs. Suddenly, alarms blare in their cockpit. “Maverick’s got tone on us!” Denver informs her. “Shit, we’re dead,” Ria sighed pulling out of the climb. She levels out waiting for Coyote but see’s he's continued the climb. “That’s a fail, return to base, Coyote,” Maverick orders. He however keeps pulling, harder still. And they realize something is wrong. “Coyote, do you copy?” Maverick asks. They get no response but then watch as Coyote’s near-vertical jet begins to nose over. “Coyote! Level wings!” Maverick ordered. Back in the classroom, the others watch as Coyote’s jet starts to roll. Cyclone steps closer, knowing something is wrong. Coyote’s jet fully inverts and begins heading for the ground. “Oh, god, He’s in G-loc! He’s going in,” Ria warns. Maverick curses, “I’m going after him.” Maverick dives left after Coyote, targeting his jet. “Come on, come on... gimme tone, you sonofabitch,” Maverick mutters. “Snap out of it, Coyote. Come on! Come on!” Ria sent up a small prayer to whoever was listening. Coyote is half in, half out of consciousness as alarms blare in his cockpit. “Damn it! Coyote! Coyote!” Maverick yells. Coyote yanks back hard on his stick, pulling up as hard as he could and breathing heavily. “Coyote, you okay? You okay?” Maverick asks as Skywalker and Maverick move into formation beside him. “I’m okay, I’m okay. I’m good…” Coyote manages to say and Ria lets out a deep sigh of relief. Back in the classroom, Jake slumped in his seat a little, relief flowing through him at his best friend's words. 

“Good. Good. That’s enough for today, let’s head back to base,” Maverick said. “That was close,” Ria says. “Too close,” Maverick echoed. There was a loud bang. “Bird strike! Bird strike!” Maverick calls out as another loud bang sounds and feathers fly around their canopies. Alarms blare and Elliot’s instrument cluster lights up as their jet shudders. “Engine Failure, left engine is out. Tempest, climb!” Elliot ordered. “Climbing,” she responds, pulling up on her stick. Jake freezes in place, hearing but not quite processing what he was hearing. Elliot looks over his shoulder to see the left engine is on fire. “We’re on fire, we’re on fire,” he tells her. “Throttling back. Shutting off fuel. Extinguishing fire,” she says, her training kicking into gear. She pulls back on the throttle and activates the fire extinguisher switch. “We’re losing the right engine,” Elliot informed Ria. “It’s still spinning. I’m gonna try to restart it,” she tells him. She flips the APU switch and pushes the right throttle forward. Nothing happens. “Shit. Trying again.” She tries the APU and throttle again but suddenly, with a bang the right engine now catches fire. “We’re on fire again, Tempest!” Elliot informs her. “Damnit!” she hisses. “Oh, my god,” Maverick mutters. Everyone back in the classroom looks at each other, worry present on all faces, helpless to do anything but listen. Jake’s eyes are blown wide as he stands, powerless. “I’ve got every warning light lit up back here,” Elliot tells her, and Ria can hear the panic creeping into his voice. “Tempest, Denver, punch out, punch out!” Maverick calls out. “We lost hydraulics. I can’t control it,” she told Maverick. “We’re going down, Ria! We’re going in! We’re going in!” Elliot yells as the two watch their altitude begin to drop. “You can’t save it! Eject, eject!” Maverick ordered. “Eject, eject, eject!” Ria repeated, reaching down and grabbing the handles. The canopy blows. She and Denver are ejected one after the other seconds before their jet collides with the desert floor and explodes. Maverick watches the two chutes drift, seeing the past flash before his eyes... He pulls off his mask, shutting his eyes. He let out a shuddering breath before calling it in. “Maverick to tower. We have a plane down. Send a helo.”

[cyanophore-fiction]

Treading Lightly

Trying out @writeblrsummerfest‘s prompt with the haunted house theme! Sounds like fun, and I like the idea of having AI characters encountering the supernatural, I haven’t tried that concept before. 

(Note: for the purposes of these characters, anything in [brackets] instead of quotations indicates dialogue transmitted silently via electronic communication instead of spoken aloud. 

Under Pala’s cloak, the night made Coyote almost invisible. Its silhouette was perfectly black, and if it kept away from streetlights, it appeared only as a shadow slightly darker than its surroundings. It would be the same on infrared and radar—a splotch of unreflective nothingness, soaking up every stray photon. 

 Without the sun dumping heat into the cloak, there wasn’t much to worry about, but Coyote kept an eye on Pala’s temperature monitor anyway. It was a cool night, and the little drone was comfortable, its heat sinks barely warm. Its cluster of red eyes swiveled independently as they tracked motion in the dark: rabbits and squirrels hopping through the undergrowth, the occasional bat overhead.

Through the cable that connected them, Coyote felt the echoes of Pala’s mind. Each time it found an animal, it took a few seconds to pepper the creature with lidar pulses, building up a three-dimensional model to add to a growing wildlife database. Sometimes it took scans of the trees, bird nests, or pinecones. Its motive was simple curiosity; the data would have no tactical value.  

Coyote smiled. It had to remind itself that up until now, Pala’s only experience of nature had been the Mojave desert. Time and luck permitting, Coyote wanted to let its companion absorb as much as possible, so it had taken over the task of navigation. 

The place would be about a quarter mile up the road, if Coyote reckoned things correctly. It had done the calculations a few times over and cross-referenced them against its stolen paper map to be sure, but there was only so much precision it could count on with the satellite network turned against it. It had been weeks since the last orbital sensor sweep, but even so, Coyote didn’t dare try to connect to GPS. PRIONODE would be too clever to miss it.

[Hey. Is that it?] Pala said, all its eyes swiveling to focus on a spot just off the road. Coyote stopped, turned, and peered into the darkness. The place had come up so much sooner than expected that it had almost missed the turnoff. 

There, past a hedge of uncut grass, thistles, and overgrown gardenia bushes, was 312 Lemon Tree Lane. The old house was built on an acre of land surrounded by a solid wall of pine forest, abandoned for so long that stray saplings were beginning to invade the front yard. Wooden planks, sagging with age, barely held the front porch together. Coyote crouched, nodding to Pala, and together they painted the building with active sensor pulses. 

[Can’t get reliable returns through the windows,] said Pala. [Might as well be opaque.]

[Okay, so the interior’s a question mark until we get in there and look,] said Coyote. [Place is on the verge of collapse, too. One good windstorm and it’s coming down.]

[Did the records say anything about who owns it?]

[At this point? The county, maybe. Last inhabitants left over a decade ago. That’s about it. Anything on passives?]

[I’ve got…] said Pala, trailing off. It unfurled a set of antennae from its back, extending them through the boundary of the cloak, and waited for a few moments. [Yeah. There’s infrared and microwave-band emissions coming off the house, but—I can’t parse it out. Natural source, maybe?]

Along Coyote’s head, its sensory fins laid flat. [Where?]

[There’s not a specific origin point that I can see.]

[Okay,] said Coyote, standing up. [Here’s how we’ll play this. I want you to check the property. Look for a storage shed, basement entrance, or any derelict vehicles or appliances. Anything that runs on gas and has an alternator, we can pull a charge from. Sometimes old places like this will have emergency generators, that’s the best case scenario. If you find anything like that, tell me. Don’t go inside the house unless I say. Clear?]

[Got it,] said Pala. It began withdrawing its cloak, and Coyote felt hundreds of microbots skittering along its armor back to Pala’s chassis. [What are you going to do?]

[I’m going inside,] said Coyote. [I’ll check the interior, room by room.]

[You’re worried there’ll be someone in there?]

[Possibly. Could be homeless humans taking shelter here, kind of like us. Maybe other spirits. We won’t be a welcome sight, so I’ll try not to be seen. Don’t worry, the place is probably empty.]

[Okay. Be safe.]

[You too,] Coyote said. What it didn’t say was that EMD guns were apparently legal in the area, that people tended to be less shy about drawing and firing one, and it wasn’t sure if Pala’s light shielding would hold against a direct hit. Best to have it out of harm’s way.

As it approached the door, it activated the ultrasonics in its claws and sliced through the lock with a quick, silent cut. It turned and watched as Pala scuttled away into the overgrown lawn, resisting the urge to go back and regain sight of it. The little one would be fine on its own for a while.

Stepping through the door, Coyote armed its flechette gun, felt a round slide home into the barrel behind its palm.

[maraschinomerry]

1, 4, 5, 12, 19, 31, 34, 35 please :)))

Ooh these are great, thank you!! 😊

1. who is/are your comfort character(s)? Currently the Lockwood & Co gang and I think they're part of the permanent team now, alongside Morse (Endeavour/Inspector Morse) and Ned & Chuck (Pushing Daisies)

4. which cryptyd being do you believe in? Nessie! I'm half-Scottish so the Loch Ness Monster has been on my radar since before I really knew what cryptids were, and while I know a lot of the sightings were hoaxes I think scientifically they could have existed

5. what color are your eyes? Sort of a muted blue-green, but with rings of yellow flecks that sometimes make them more green when they catch the light. A friend once referred to them as 'sunflower eyes' which I adore 🌻

12. what kind of day is it? It's a lovely day here, warm and sunny with a nice breeze! For me though it's just a chilled out day, I had a bass guitar gig at work last night so now I'm super tired but feeling very positive, it was my best one so far!

19. imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails? Oh absolutely! I have a whole box of nail varnishes you could choose from - there's a lovely deep shimmery green I think you'd suit, or a gorgeous silk pinky-purple

31. what type of music keeps you grounded? Folk music is very grounding for me, especially anything by The Corries. At uni, before I discovered the wonder of noise-reducing earplugs, listening to Loch Tay Boat Song kept me from getting overwhelmed in crowded social situations.

34. is there a song you know every word to by heart? Oh there are so many 😅 I listen to music almost all the time and tend to sing along too so I just absorb lyrics to things. I think the one I've learnt by heart most recently is I/Me/Myself by Will Wood

35. what’s your timezone? GMT/currently it's BST ☀️

[mjcwrites]

My Personal Experience with Heartbreak:

I often need to remind myself that there is a reason that certain people aren’t in my life anymore. Do I miss them? Yes. But that doesn’t mean that they are someone that is beneficial to me. In the healing I’ve experienced within the last year, I’ve come to realize that I miss what could have been more than what I really had. I didn’t have anything in all honesty. What I had was a man who didn’t care about me the way I cared about him, a temporary muse until he got bored… And believe me, people like him will always get bored.

I have been working every day to be a beacon to myself and others, instead of letting one insignificant man rule my heart and mind. Some of my best advice for those who are feeling this way would be to get off social media for the time being. If that is not an option, set time limits for those social applications so the majority of your time is not spent wasted on irrelevance and reminders of them.

Although it is extremely hard, stop searching them on social media. I definitely struggled with this. I wanted to know what he was doing with his own life and mostly if he missed me. This has caused more problems than not and brings nothing to the table but nausea and heartache.

For awhile I found myself wanting to text him and ask him how he was doing. What I learned, personally, is that hearing that they are doing okay without you is so painful. Deep down you want them to not be okay without you, but they are. Don’t ask mutual friends or family members about them either. Act as if they are far off your radar even if they are beaming in the center of it.

I’ve picked up habits I had abandoned with him, especially skincare and finding new hobbies. I’ve learned new techniques with makeup, painted beauty and emotion on canvas after canvas… I’ve distracted my mind with word searches and mindful exercises in a book I bought for $8 at Barnes and Noble.

Instead of bottling up my feelings until they overflow, I’ve found that writing out how I feel is more of an energy release than I could have ever imagined. Whether it be one paragraph, 10 pages or 90 pages… write it out. We tend to filter our emotions when speaking to others on behalf of our situation, so write it down in a notebook or on a laptop document so that filter is much thinner or nonexistent.

Something I wish I would have known much sooner in my healing experience from a breakup is that keeping emotions shoved down will only delay your progress. Feel it out. Cry it out. Talk it out. Go for a drive and sing heart wrenching songs at the top of your lungs. Get the negative energy out and use new hobbies and routines to absorb more positive energy.

Spend time with yourself to truly feel the emotions, but don’t isolate from loved ones. Love yourself, find who you are and don’t let anything hold you back from becoming who you are meant to be in this life. Put yourself first for once, do what makes YOU happy.

[usafphantom2]

Habu

One cannot view the SR-71 without being struck by feelings of wonder and mystery.

It appears to be some combination of a spaceship and a giant fighter aircraft. The ominous black paint covering the surface added to the unusual effect.

When the SR-71 was later deployed to Kadena AFB, on the island of Okinawa, the local natives (Japanese Ryukyan islanders) named it Habu after a dark, poisonous, pit viper snake indigenous to the Ryukyu Island chain.

Insiders in the Senior Crown program favored that name over the less dramatic Blackbird, and its use became a symbol for one who understood more than the publicly released information.

The structure was 93 percent titanium with the remaining 7 percent Teflon-like high temperature composite radar-absorbing materials, often called RAM. The black paint was used mainly to enhance radiation cooling at high altitudes, but it also contained tiny iron balls to help dissipate electromagnetic radiation.

The propulsion was provided by two Pratt and Whitney J-58s (JT11 D-20, later commercial name), high bypass ratio, after- burning engines with a moving inlet spike to regulate mass airflow rate and control location of the inlet shock wave. With thrust in excess of 30,000 pounds, one of these engines delivered more than the combined thrust of all six engines on the B-47.

Written by Aloysius Casey

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