#this is from the rule doc of a map call

[nachosforfree]

Well then not any oc is welcome lmao

[cup1drul3z]

★ — Salt in her lungs

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 : ᴅʀᴀɢ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱʜᴏʀᴇ

ᴘɪʀᴀᴛᴇ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ᴍᴇʀᴍᴀɪᴅ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | 5.7ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

TAGS : Age gap, Mermaids, Pirates, Fantasy world, set in 1600s, blood mentioned

A/N : another fic that has been collecting dust in my docs

Summary : A curious mermaid princess saves a drowning pirate, breaking centuries of secrecy between their worlds. Sevika can't forget the girl beneath the waves, haunted by her even in someone else’s arms. Now, both are searching for each other—drawn by a connection neither fully understands.

Long ago, before salt crusted the corners of maps and before ships carved paths across the sea, the oceans were ruled by song.

Mermaids—known to themselves as the Thalassari—were not the glittering fairy tales whispered to human children. They were warriors, mystics, daughters of tide and storm. Born with sharp teeth and sharper tongues, they shaped the ocean’s mood with their voices: lullabies that calmed tempests, laments that mourned lost ships, and siren-songs that could drag a fleet to the bottom of the world. They lived deep in the trenches, in palaces carved from coral and whale bone, protected by magic older than the moon.

But once—centuries ago—humans and merfolk did meet.

The stories say a fisherman’s net tore through the kelp curtain guarding a mermaid nursery. Curious, the humans came closer. They captured one. Dissected her. What they didn’t understand, they feared. What they feared, they destroyed.

A war followed. Not one of armies or flags, but of quiet ruin. Ships lost with no trace. Islands swallowed by sudden tides. Harbors cursed with empty nets and dead water. In retaliation, humans built stories—legends to bury the truth. Mermaids were dismissed as sailor myths, drunken mirages, hallucinations brought on by thirst and madness. A convenient lie. Over time, belief faded like a tide pulling back. Mermaids became fantasy.

Below the surface, the Thalassari wove their own stories. Humans, they said, were extinct—burned out by their own fires, vanished into the sky. “Surface ghosts,” they were called, used to frighten little mermaids into obedience. Don’t swim too close to the shore, or the ghosts will steal your voice.

Generations passed. The sea kept its secrets.

Until now.

Until you.

You, the youngest daughter of the Sea King—mouthy, reckless, and far too curious for your own good. You’ve always wanted to see what was beyond. Not just the reef wall or the border tides, but the world above.

You weren’t supposed to be awake this late.

The reef pulsed with sleepy biolight, soft and dim, like the whole sea was breathing slow around you. Your sisters had long since curled into their shell beds, and even the guards stationed at the edge of the inner currents had grown lazy—hovering with half-lidded eyes, tridents drifting just slightly out of reach.

Perfect.

You moved silently through your chambers, brushing past strands of sea-silk and coral trinkets. Your father had filled the place with gifts. A necklace of blood-pearls. A singing conch from the Mariana Trench. A polished mirror carved from obsidian that always reflected you looking smaller than you felt. They were all meant to distract you. Soften you.

But none of it mattered when your heart was pulling toward something outside.

You ran your fingers through your hair. Tugged on your travel wrap—lightweight kelp-thread woven for speed, not elegance. No crown. No sign of royalty. Just you. Just the water.

You moved to the back wall of your chamber, where a curtain of kelp swayed lazily over the outcrop. It looked like just another patch of rock, but if you pushed it just right—there—the shimmerline faltered.

Just a flicker.

Your heart thudded in your chest, a rhythm too fast for deep sea calm.

One look over your shoulder.

Empty room.

You exhaled.

Then you slipped through the crack in the reef—outside Sanctum for the first time in your life.

And the sea felt different out here.

Colder. Wilder.

Free.

“You call that a tie-down? That knot wouldn’t hold a drunk mermaid’s panties, let alone a cannon!”

The deck of The Harpy’s Grin was chaos—ropes whipping in the wind, gulls screeching overhead, crewmen scrambling like wet rats as the sails snapped angrily above. The storm had passed hours ago, but its temper still echoed in the waves. And Sevika, captain of this barely-floating beast, was not in the mood.

She stalked across the creaking boards with heavy boots, the scent of brine and old smoke clinging to her coat. The sun caught the steel of her mechanical arm as she grabbed a dangling line and yanked it tight with a grunt, shooting a deadly glare at the nearest crewman.

“Reefbreak’s balls, if you lot can’t manage a basic lash, I’ll start tossing you overboard one by one and see who floats best!”

“Cap’n, the wind changed too fast—” one of them started, eyes wide and voice shaking.

“And the wind’ll break your jaw next time you whine instead of workin’.” Her voice was rough as gravel, but cold. Controlled. She didn’t raise her voice unless she meant it.

The man shut up real fast.

Sevika took a slow drag off the half-chewed cigar clenched between her teeth, squinting out at the horizon. The water stretched out, glittering like spilled coin under the sun. Endless. Boring. Predictable.

God, she hated calm days.

“Where’s the chart?” she barked, already heading for the helm.

“Below deck, Cap’n!”

“Well get it! I’m not lettin’ this damn ship drift like a tavern whore waiting for a kiss.”

She took the wheel in one hand, metal fingers tapping restlessly on the polished wood. Her jaw worked against the cigar, tension in her shoulders she couldn’t seem to shake. Not from the storm. Not from the crew.

From the feeling. That gnawing itch behind her ribs like something was coming. Something that didn’t belong on the sea.

She spat overboard.

“Fuckin’ sirens,” she muttered.

Except she didn’t believe in sirens.

Not really.

Sevika barked one last order and turned back toward the wheel, the wind catching her coat as she narrowed her eyes at the far edge of the water. Something shimmered there—a ripple too smooth for open sea, a flicker of color where none should be.

Probably nothing.

But her gut said different.

And Sevika had learned long ago to trust her gut more than gods, ghosts, or gossiping crewmen.

She took another drag from her cigar and growled, “Bring up the scopes. I want eyes on the wreck fields.”

A crewmember scrambled up beside her, already raising the scope to his eye. He adjusted the focus, then stiffened. “There’s... something in the water, Cap’n.”

“‘Something’?” she snapped. “That’s real fuckin’ specific.”

“Not a fish. Too big. Looks like... maybe someone fell overboard?”

Her cigar twitched at the corner of her mouth.

“Lower the rowboat,” she ordered, voice flat. “Two men. Careful hands.”

Oren hesitated. “You think it’s a survivor?”

“I think I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she said, turning on her heel.

But as she walked away, she muttered under her breath, just quiet enough not to be heard:

“Or a goddamn lure.”

You’d gone too far.

You knew it the second the light changed—the way it bled through the water in slanted, unnatural beams, not the warm shimmer of Sanctum’s safe magic but the sharp, raw glare of the surface world. The current had tugged you past familiar coral shelves and singing stones. Now, the water was colder. Still. Heavy with silence.

And wreckage.

You kicked gently through the murk, weaving past twisted metal and splintered wood, ghost-ships swallowed by barnacles and age. Sails shredded like jellyfish skin. Harpoons rusted and bent. A graveyard.

Your brows furrowed as you muttered, “Why would there be so many here...?”

You’d always been told humans were myths—surface ghosts that vanished long ago, burned away by their own greed. Old stories. Scare tactics. Tales told to mares to keep them close to the reef. No one you knew had ever seen one.

But the wreckage told a different story.

You drifted lower, nearly brushing your belly against the ocean floor as you approached a strange shadow ahead—huge, looming, far too intact to be part of the graveyard. Not a reef. Not a creature.

And then you saw it.

Half out of the water above: a massive dark shape, long and wide like a sleeping leviathan. Wooden skin. Metal teeth. Some kind of strange… hump-backed whale?

Right next to it, floating just beside the beast, was a smaller one. Sleek. Smoother. Almost cute, in a crooked kind of way.

You froze, breath catching in your throat.

“...What are those?”

You stayed low, heart thudding as you pressed into the sand, eyes wide and glittering with curiosity. Whatever they were, they hadn’t moved yet. Maybe they were just strange surface creatures. Maybe they were whales. Maybe this was why your father forbade you from leaving.

But gods help you—you had to know.

The rowboat rocked gently beside the ruins of the old wreck, creaking as it drifted in the lazy current. Sevika stood near the bow, one boot up on the edge, arms crossed, cigar tucked behind her ear. She was squinting into the water, watching the way it shimmered around the rotted timbers below.

“See anything yet?” she muttered.

“Hold on,” one of her men called back, leaning farther over the edge. His fingers gripped the railing as he tried to peer past the sun glare. “I thought I saw—wait, yeah—somethin’ shiny. Looked like—”

The glint was gone before he finished the sentence.

A plink broke the stillness.

They all froze.

The man’s hand went to his bare chest like he’d been stabbed. His face twisted. “No—shit! No!”

“What now?” Sevika asked, already annoyed.

“My necklace—!” he barked, voice cracking. “It—it was my late wife’s—shit!”

And then he jumped.

Straight off the side.

“Godsdammit!” Sevika cursed as water splashed over the side.

“Man overboard!” the second crewman yelled, standing and nearly tipping the whole boat in his panic.

Shouts rang out from the main ship—sails snapping above, boots pounding on the upper deck. Sevika didn’t wait. She tore off her coat and dove in.

The water swallowed her whole.

She cut through it like a knife, teeth clenched against the cold. The man was below her, flailing, reaching toward the shimmer of silver glinting just above the ocean floor—lodged between sharp black rocks. Stupid, reckless bastard.

He grabbed it, fingers closing around the chain.

But then he panicked.

His chest heaved. His eyes went wide.

Sevika reached him, shoving him upward with both hands. Her grip was strong, steady. “Go!” she yelled, voice lost in a stream of bubbles. “Get up!”

He kicked off, disappearing toward the surface.

She turned to follow—and pain lanced up her leg.

Her boot had caught.

She yanked, hard. The rocks didn’t budge.

The pressure was already building behind her eyes. Her lungs were screaming.

She kicked again, twisting, trying to slip free—

Still stuck.

Still sinking.

The decision wasn’t a decision at all. It was instinct.

One moment, you were crouched in the sand, hidden beneath a ledge of coral and bone, eyes wide as the strange surface woman thrashed against the rocks. The next—you were moving.

Your tail snapped once, twice, and you shot forward through the murk.

Her foot was caught tight between two slabs of stone. You yanked on them, fingers digging into the crevices, but they wouldn’t budge. Too sharp. Too strong. The woman’s dark eyes locked onto yours—wild with confusion and quickly clouding. Her mouth parted, a stream of bubbles escaping.

And still—she fought.

But something else moved behind you.

A shadow.

The shark.

You felt it before you saw it—the ripple through the current, the low thrum of hunger. It circled from far off, but closing fast, drawn by the shimmer of your scales.

You cursed under your breath.

Too shiny, stupid tail, stupid.

You twisted, diving down just as it cut through the water in a flash of grey muscle and hunger. Sevika flinched as it passed—still trapped. Still vulnerable.

You didn’t hesitate.

Your fingers found the knife strapped to her thigh—slick and cold, the leather sheath wrapped in thick cords. You yanked it free, spun, and darted directly toward the open mouth of the predator.

It came at you fast.

You were faster.

With a sharp flick of your tail, you spun to the side and drove the blade into the beast’s eye with all your strength.

A hiss of blood spiraled through the water. The shark jerked, convulsing, and fled into the gloom.

You turned back, breathing hard. Sevika was struggling against the rock again—and with a final wrench, she broke free. You caught her as she kicked off the bottom, her strength already faltering.

She was slipping.

You could see it in the way her limbs moved—slower, heavier, like her body was made of stone. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to stay conscious.

You grabbed her hand.

Your fingers locked around hers as you pulled, kicking hard toward the surface, dragging her up through the light and salt and silence.

When her head broke the surface, she gasped—choking and sputtering—but you were already gone.

Back beneath the waves.

A shadow disappearing in the blood-tinged blue.

Rough hands pulled her from the sea.

“Got her! Cap’n—breathe! Come on—damn it—”

Water spilled from her mouth as she coughed, hacking and heaving onto the wood of the little rowboat. Her chest burned. Her lungs felt like they were made of rust. Her limbs, heavy and half-numb, barely moved as someone braced her shoulders.

“Is she bit?” someone asked. “Shit, there was blood—a lot of it.”

Sevika blinked, vision blurry with salt and sun. Her throat felt like it had been scraped raw with sandpaper.

“Wasn’t mine,” she rasped, voice like gravel dragged across stone.

The two crewmen looked at each other. “You sure? Looked like a fuckin’ massacre from the top deck.”

Sevika coughed again, this time spitting over the side. She sat up slowly, her shirt soaked and clinging to her, the weight of the sea still wrapped around her shoulders like a ghost.

“I said it wasn’t mine,” she muttered, jaw tight. “Shark came in. Got chased off.”

“Chased off?” one of them echoed, brows lifting. “By what, a fuckin’ miracle?”

She didn’t answer.

Because she didn’t have one.

There’d been something in the water. No—someone. She remembered flashes. A face. A grip on her arm. Eyes wide and unafraid. No legs. Shimmering skin. A tail.

And then—nothing.

The rowboat bumped against the side of The Harpy’s Grin, ropes lowered to haul her up. Voices crowded her ears—more concern, more confusion—but she didn’t register a word.

She stumbled onto the deck with help, boots squelching against the boards. Her mind was still half-drowned.

“You hit your head, Cap’n?” someone asked. “You’re out of it.”

“Fine,” she growled, brushing off a hand from her shoulder. “Fine.”

But she wasn’t.

Because when she looked down, just before the crew peeled her soaked coat away, she saw something wrapped around her wrist—delicate, green, and glinting like sea glass.

A strand of kelp, knotted into a perfect little braid.

And Sevika never tied things pretty.

You didn’t realize it until you were almost back—until the shimmerline came into view, flickering faintly around the outer reef like a curtain of moonlight.

The knife was still in your hand.

Your breath caught. You paused in the current, tail curling beneath you, the knife suddenly heavy in your grip. You turned it over, saltwater glinting along the blade’s edge.

It wasn’t just any weapon.

The handle was worn but beautiful—wrapped in aged leather, darkened by years of salt and heat. Carved into the metal beneath were delicate engravings: waves, stars, a compass rose. On one side, stamped into the base near the hilt, was a name in old surface script:

Sevika Vexley.

You mouthed it soundlessly, letting the letters roll through your mind.

That woman—she wasn’t like the stories. She wasn’t shriveled or monstrous or cursed with fire-skin. She was strong. Broad-shouldered and wild-eyed, all sharp angles and tension, even as she drowned. And... gods. She was attractive. In a terrifying, deeply unfair way.

You shook your head, cheeks heating. This was not the time.

And yet—your fingers didn’t let go.

You could’ve returned the knife. Left it near the surface. Let it sink back into her world. But a part of you didn’t want to. A part of you needed to keep it. Not just as proof that it happened—but because it meant something. She had a name. A face. A voice. A life.

Humans aren’t real, you’d been told. And if they were, they’re long gone. Dangerous. Violent.

But she didn’t feel like a ghost.

She felt realer than anything you’d ever touched.

You sighed, slipping the knife carefully into the folds of your kelpwrap and turning back toward the shimmerline. You passed through the magic, your tail tingling as you crossed the barrier and reentered Sanctum.

Guards drifted lazily nearby, none of them noticing you.

You exhaled in relief. No one saw. No one knew.

And no one would believe you anyway.

Your chamber was dim and still when you slipped back in—just as you left it, though your heart was hammering like you’d been gone for days instead of hours.

You crossed quickly to the corner near your bed, where the coral flooring dipped slightly beneath your vanity shell. With a careful glance over your shoulder, you knelt and pried up a loose tile of polished shellstone. It had cracked months ago, but no one had bothered to fix it. Lucky you.

The knife slid in perfectly.

You let your fingers linger on the handle—just for a second—before pressing the tile back into place and smoothing the sand around it. You exhaled. Safe. Hidden.

But before you could rise—

“Where were you?”

You froze.

His voice filled the room like a wave crashing against the reef—deep, commanding, too calm to be harmless.

Your father hovered just inside the entrance, broad-shouldered and impossibly regal even without his crown. The water shimmered faintly around him, a sign of his rising temper.

“I asked you a question,” he said, slower now. “Where. Were. You.”

You turned, schooling your face into neutrality. “Nowhere.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you snapped before you could stop yourself. “I just... went for a swim. I stayed within the boundary.”

“Don’t insult me,” he growled, his tone sharp now, dangerous. “Your scent is soaked in brine and blood. You reek of the outer currents.”

You stiffened. “I’m not a child.”

“No, but you are my daughter,” he barked, surging forward. “And I did not build this sanctum just for you to go wandering into cursed waters where things that shouldn’t exist still might.”

Your jaw tightened, hands curling at your sides. “So I’m supposed to spend my whole life locked in a cage of pearl? Singing at court? Smiling for foreign envoys? That’s not living.”

His face twisted. “That is safety.”

You held his gaze, unflinching. “Then maybe I don’t want to be safe.”

The water between you crackled with tension. Silence hung, thick and bitter.

His voice, when it finally came, was low. “One day out there will get you killed.”

You turned your back on him.

“One day here will kill me slower,” you muttered.

You didn’t look as he left. You couldn’t.

Because your hands were still shaking.

The reef was asleep again.

Soft glows pulsed through the coral towers like slow heartbeats, and the palace was quiet save for the faint echo of guards’ tridents tapping stone. You lay still in your bed until their patrol passed your chamber door—then you moved.

You slipped from the silkweed sheets, every motion careful, quiet. The room was still dim, only the bioluminescent drift-lamps casting gentle light across your floor. You knelt by the vanity again, fingers brushing over the loose tile. It popped free with practiced ease.

The knife was still there.

You pulled it out slowly, cradling the handle in your palm. The engravings were cool under your fingers, familiar now. You traced the name again.

Sevika Vexley.

There was no going back. Not really. Not after today. Not after her.

You needed to know more. You needed to see her again. Ask what she was. What the surface was. What the truth was.

You slid the knife into the belt of your kelpwrap, letting the folds hide it from sight. You glanced once more toward your door. Still quiet.

You slipped out.

Through shadowed halls and gently swaying curtains of sea lace, past the silver fountains that never ran dry. Past your sisters’ chambers. Past the court’s main hall. You moved like a shadow, like a whisper. Like you weren’t the king’s youngest daughter.

Like you weren’t royalty at all.

Except—you forgot.

The moment you passed the final shimmerline, leaving Sanctum behind, you felt the cool rush of wild sea against your skin—and a gentle tug at your temples.

Your crown.

You hadn’t even realized you were still wearing it—so familiar, so constant it felt like a part of your body. The delicate chains brushed your cheeks as you swam, gold glinting faintly in the dark, seashells and crystal pieces catching what little light filtered from above.

The teardrop gem gleamed like a beacon.

If someone saw you—

You swallowed hard, but didn’t stop.

The knife was secure at your hip. The water was cold again.

And somewhere out there, above the wrecks and waves, was a woman who should not exist.

And you were going to find her.

The dock buzzed with noise as The Harpy’s Grin pulled into its usual berth, ropes thrown and sails furled with practiced speed. Salt clung to the air, and the wood of the pier creaked beneath hurried boots as the crew began unloading barrels, crates, and whatever scrap was worth selling from the old wrecks.

Sevika stood at the gangplank, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the chaos below. Her coat was back on, sleeves damp, and the braid of kelp that had been wrapped around her wrist was gone—tucked somewhere deep in her quarters where no one could see it.

She didn’t say a word as her crew barked and grunted, lugging gear onto the docks.

“Hey!”

A familiar voice cut through the noise.

Sevika looked up just in time to see Vi weaving through the crowd, her usual cocky smirk in place and a gleam in her eye. The crowd parted for her. It usually did.

“Finally,” Vi said, coming to stand beside her. “Took your sweet time.”

“Storm slowed us down,” Sevika muttered, voice low. “Got caught in a wreck field.”

Vi looked her over, brow twitching. “You good?”

There was a pause.

Sevika scratched the back of her neck, eyes flicking toward the crates being hauled off her ship. “...Fell overboard.”

Vi blinked.

“You what?”

“I said I fell overboard.”

Vi stared for a beat—then barked out a laugh, loud and obnoxious, smacking Sevika on the shoulder. “You idiot! I told you to stop standing so close to the damn edge when you’re brooding like a cliché.”

“I wasn’t brooding,” Sevika grumbled.

“You were,” Vi grinned. “You always are. Gods, you're lucky you didn’t drown. I’d be stuck drinking alone, and you know no one else can keep up with me.”

Sevika huffed a soft laugh through her nose, shaking her head.

“So?” Vi raised a brow, already turning toward the street. “We doin’ our usual, or what? I got us a table at the tavern.”

Sevika didn’t answer right away.

Her gaze drifted over her shoulder, back to the sea. The waves looked calm now—unbothered. Innocent.

But she could still feel the ghost of fingers wrapped around her wrist, dragging her toward the surface.

Not human. Not a dream.

Her jaw tightened. “...Yeah. Sure.”

She turned and followed Vi into the crowd.

But her mind stayed on the water.

The tavern was warm and loud—clanking mugs, the low thrum of music from the back corner, sailors laughing too hard over nothing. It was the kind of noise that usually helped Sevika drown out her thoughts.

Not tonight.

She sat at the booth, half-drunk cider sweating in front of her, boots kicked out under the table. Vi was mid-story—something about a guy trying to barter with a dead jellyfish and calling it “enchanted”—but Sevika wasn’t really hearing it.

Her eyes had drifted to the far wall, where a faded mural stretched across the plaster. It was chipped in places, water-stained at the corners, but still vivid enough to make her pause.

A mermaid. Painted in swirling blues and silver, hair flowing like seaweed, mouth slightly open in song. A fairytale. A warning. A joke.

Except it didn’t feel like one anymore.

“—and then the guy actually licked it, I swear on my—wait—”

Vi snapped her fingers.

“Hello? Not talkin’ to myself over here.”

Sevika blinked. Her gaze flicked to Vi, then back to the mural, then back again. She shifted in her seat, leaning back with a quiet sigh.

“Sorry.”

Vi raised a brow. “You good? You’ve been weird all night.”

There was a long pause.

Then Sevika just said it.

“Do you believe in mermaids?” she asked, voice low. “Or… sirens?”

Vi snorted a laugh, lifting her drink. “What, like the fish-girls with seashell tits and magic songs? That kind of mermaid?”

But Sevika didn’t smile. She didn’t even blink.

Vi’s smirk faded slowly. She lowered her mug and leaned in a bit, watching her friend’s face.

“…Did you see something?”

Sevika didn’t answer right away.

Vi scooted closer across the bench. “Sev. What happened out there?”

Sevika stared into her drink, fingers drumming once against the side of the mug. Her jaw worked like she was chewing on the words, deciding whether to spit them out or swallow them whole.

“I saw something,” she finally said, voice quiet enough that Vi had to lean in more to catch it.

Vi’s brows knit. “Like… what kind of something?”

Sevika hesitated.

“Something in the water,” she said. “When I was stuck. Thought I was gonna black out. Then she was there.”

Vi blinked. “She?”

“...I don’t know what she was,” Sevika muttered. “Had no legs. Fast as hell. Got me loose. Dragged me up. Then gone.”

Vi sat back slowly, mug forgotten. “You’re serious.”

Sevika nodded once, slow and deliberate. Her eyes flicked to the mural again.

Vi followed her gaze, then let out a low breath. “And you think—what? Mermaid? Siren? Sea spirit?”

“I don’t know,” Sevika repeated. “But she wasn’t a hallucination. She had weight. Heat. A face.”

Vi was quiet for a moment, chewing on her lip. Then she scoffed softly. “Well, damn. I thought I had a good story tonight.”

That finally earned her a ghost of a smile from Sevika.

“You still do,” Sevika said, lifting her drink. “Just not as weird as mine.”

Vi shook her head and grinned, clinking her mug against Sevika’s.

“You’re buying the next round,” she said. “And if this ends with you falling in love with a sea creature, I better be the best man at the wedding.”

The water was darker here. Colder.

You'd been swimming in circles for what felt like hours, trying to retrace the path from earlier. The wrecks weren’t where you remembered. The currents were different, pulling wrong, whispering strange things around your ears.

But you had to find it. Find her.

You darted around a cluster of sunken crates, eyes sharp, heart thudding with a mix of urgency and hope. You couldn’t stop now—not after what you saw. Not after what you felt.

Then the current shifted. Cold. Heavy. Familiar.

Your blood ran colder than the sea around you.

You turned slowly, and there it was. The shark.

The same one from before, its wounded eye now scarred and clouded with rage. It hovered just a few body-lengths away, tail swaying in slow, predatory rhythm. It had followed your trail.

Of course it had.

You backed away, body tense, hand reaching for the knife at your hip—but you knew you couldn’t outswim it in open water. You were fast, but not that fast. Its nostrils flared. It inched closer. Closer.

It opened its jaws.

And then—

“Tch. That’s enough, fish-breath.”

The voice came from behind you. Smooth. Teasing. Dangerous.

The shark froze mid-lunge.

Its entire body trembled before it spun, darting off into the gloom with a ripple of panic you could feel in the water.

You turned.

Floating just a few feet away was a woman.

A mermaid, but not like anyone from Sanctum.

Her hair was long—long—a brilliant, electric blue that shimmered even in the low light, trailing all the way down to where her deep indigo tail began. She was tall, lean, and wore a grin like she knew every secret the sea had ever whispered. Sharp teeth glinted behind her smile.

She cocked her head at you.

“Hey, kid,” she said, voice curling around you like silk. “Wanna turn into a human?”

Your eyes went wide.

The tavern was even louder now.

The music had swelled into a full reel, all frantic strings and stomping boots, and the crowd had doubled since sunset. Lanterns glowed low and golden above the bar, casting warm light over sweat-damp necks and flushed cheeks. The air was thick with the scent of spiced rum, woodsmoke, and something fried and probably burnt.

Sevika was drunk. Very drunk.

She was slouched in a chair near the back, one boot kicked up on a barrel, her coat half-falling off her shoulder. The smoke from her cigar curled lazily above her head, ignored entirely as her attention was focused on the woman seated across from her.

She had a voice like honey, one hand wrapped around a mug, the other idly playing with the end of Sevika’s collar. She laughed too loudly at something Sevika said—and Sevika smirked, leaning in, words low and slurred just enough to soften her usual edge.

From a distance, she looked like any other pirate relaxing after a haul—flushed cheeks, hooded eyes, the swagger of someone used to getting what she wanted.

But if anyone looked close enough, really close, they’d see the difference. The way Sevika’s gaze flicked—not quite focused on the girl in front of her, but through her.

Because the girl wasn’t her.

Not her.

The girl was close, sure—dark hair, delicate mouth, a laugh that danced in the air—but her eyes were too pale, her chin too sharp. Her hands were wrong.

Still, Sevika played the part. She leaned in, voice rough and low. “You always drink like that, or are you tryin’ to impress me?”

The girl grinned, tipping her mug. “Maybe a bit of both.”

Sevika laughed, mouth curling around the cigar, smoke exhaled through her nose as she tilted her head. “Dangerous game.”

“And you’re the warning label?” the girl teased, inching closer, eyes glinting. “Please.”

Sevika took a slow sip of her drink. It sloshed slightly as she set it down, the amber liquid nearly gone. Her elbow hit the table harder than intended. She blinked a little too slow.

“Just sayin’,” she muttered, “You got no idea what I’ve seen. What I’ve touched.”

She didn’t mean to say it like that, but the words slipped out anyway, thick with drink and memory.

The girl’s brows rose, but she was still smiling, amused, leaning in close enough that her perfume—citrus and sweat—brushed Sevika’s senses. “Then maybe you should show me.”

A smirk ghosted across Sevika’s mouth. Her hand drifted forward, fingers brushing against the girl’s wrist. Her touch was practiced, steady, but her eyes…

Her eyes were miles away.

The other woman leaned in like she was expecting a kiss.

But Sevika didn’t move.

Not yet.

Because all she could see, in the flicker of candlelight on this stranger’s face, was another face—wide-eyed, glinting with seawater and moonlight. That tail. That mouth when it opened in shock. The shimmer of scales, the cut of a jaw that didn’t belong to any myth she knew.

Sevika blinked again.

The illusion cracked.

“You alright?” the girl asked softly, drawing back just an inch.

Sevika rolled her jaw, wiped a hand down her face, and laughed—low and hollow.

“Fine,” she muttered, tossing back the last of her drink. “Just thinkin’ about someone who ain’t here.”

The tavern blurred as the night deepened—faces blending into laughter, music thickening into static, the hum of drink and desire drowning out all reason. Sevika didn’t remember leaving exactly. Just the heat of the girl’s mouth on her neck, her fingers tangled in Sevika’s shirt, and the way the air outside felt cold against her flushed skin as they stumbled down the uneven cobbled streets toward her place.

They barely made it inside.

The door slammed shut behind them, the girl giggling as Sevika backed her into the wall, one hand braced beside her head, the other sliding up her thigh. Their mouths met—hot and hungry, the taste of rum and desperation between them.

It didn’t matter that her name was wrong. That her voice was wrong. That the curve of her back didn’t fit Sevika’s palm quite the way she wanted it to.

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t want to.

Didn’t let herself.

The bedroom was dark, lit only by the moonlight bleeding in through the thin curtain. Clothes came off. Hands roamed. The girl made all the right sounds, said all the right things, wrapped herself around Sevika like she meant it.

And Sevika gave in to the rhythm—fast, rough, breathless.

She chased the high, moving harder, deeper, fingers gripping, mouth biting, needing something to burn out the feeling gnawing at her ribs.

But just as she tipped over the edge—

Just as her breath caught, her eyes squeezed shut—

She saw her.

Not the girl beneath her. Not the one gasping and moaning and clawing at her back.

Her.

The girl from the water. From the wreck. From somewhere else entirely.

Except—this wasn’t a memory.

It was an invention. A split-second fantasy.

The mermaid—you—laid out beneath her, body slick and glistening like she’d just surfaced, hair tangled in seawater, eyes wide and dark with pleasure. Your mouth open, lips parted around Sevika’s name—not Captain, not help, but Sevika, like it belonged to her.

Her expression was soft. Overwhelmed. Beautiful.

It wrecked her.

Sevika came hard, breath torn from her chest, muscles tensing as the world went silent except for that imagined sound—the voice of someone she didn’t even know, someone she couldn’t possibly forget.

And when it was over—

When the girl curled up beside her, pressing kisses to her shoulder, sighing into her skin like she meant it—

Sevika just stared at the ceiling.

Eyes open.

Jaw clenched.

Haunted by a fantasy she hadn’t meant to have

comment to be added to the taglist!

[oinkable]

hey all im trying out map hosting :D its a beginner friendly map!

PLEASE NOTE this is NOT a ship map just a goofy little thing :3

its a desert duo focused map to the song “lay all your love one me” from mama mia

its scripted but the script is kinda loose

applications are open and will remain open until the map is full, backups are always open

ofc as a side note its my first time hosting a map so please be patient with me, im just a little guy trying her best

Script, rules, password and designs!

Application form (please only apply if you've read the Google doc and want a part, to be in the thumbnail contest or as a backup! :3)

[coldbrewghoul]

The Price of Playing God - P.RichtofenxReader

Chapter 1: Introduction: Luminiferous Aether

After an experiment gone awry you've shifted realities, lost in a place where even the fundamental rules of physics you've devoted your entire life to may no longer apply. Four men find you injured when you arrive in this new plane of existence and you tag along with them in the hopes you can survive for long enough to search for a way home. However, as they fight to save the multiverse you become increasingly invested in their success -- and enamored with a certain morally grey Doctor. On top of it all you can't shake the feeling that you've seen some of this before. The more you experience with them the more the events start to become familiar... As Richtofen and you fight to change the course of time, will you learn that there's a price to playing God?

Map: Origins

Notes: Isekai and Transmigration, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Eventual Alternate Timelines/Universe - Canon Divergence

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to travel through time? To see the fabric of the universe laid out before you and pick up the scissors of fate. To slip in between the quantum folds of reality, becoming nothing and something repeatedly. To contract and expand, connected to everything, vibrating and being vibrated by every action in every universe in a constant ebb and flow of beginnings and endings.

You wondered about what it would be like your whole life, to not just study and attempt to record the quantum realm, but to experience it as it experiences itself. As you hit enter on the last line of code and instantly saw the explosion of blue light, you knew you’d flown too close to the sun. What is the price of a man playing God?

~

You were dying. It was kind of funny, when you thought about it, that today was supposed to be the highlight of your life – your biggest scientific adventure – and instead you were going to experience the wild ride of feeling your brain synapses misfiring as you died. Truly, the universe had a sense of humor.

You were fading fast , probably at some rate that correlated to your blood loss, but medicine had never been your strong suit. It was excruciating, but somehow distant, like you were watching this happen to you in a little control center inside your brain. There were so many things you wished you could process - or better yet record to add to the paper you would never get to write - about what had happened to you, but instead you watched your blood drain into the mud. The mud in the historical war trenches you lay in. You wished how you got here, where you were, mattered, but it didn’t. There was no one to help you and you wouldn’t be here for much longer anyway. Not in any sense that you would get to experience, at least. Dead bodies don’t get to experience things.

But… were those footsteps? Voices? Gosh they sounded angry. If this was some war, what side did you come from and what side were they on? If you called out to them for help, would they? Mathematically, your odds were better if you tried, even if those odds were so very small. “Help…” Oof, that was your voice? It was so quiet despite the effort it took. “Please… help…”

“Wait, there’s someone alive who has not turned!” Mmm, German, yummy accent , you thought weakly, the lack of blood heightening your propensity for silly thoughts.

“We don’t have time for this, doc!” Stupid No Accent Man , you decided to call him, stupid because he was convincing the…did he say doctor? ...to not help you. Come on, I’m a fellow American here!

“We can spare a moment.”

There was blood in your eyes, stinging, making it even harder to see than the tunnel vision already did, but you made out four male figures. One bent down next to you and with all your remaining strength you grabbed onto him. “Please… I don’t want… to die…”

“Hold on, fräulein. I’ve got you.”

~

“How much longer are we going to try to hold them off before you get it in your thick skull that saving this chick ain’t worth our time? She was more dead than alive.”

“Don’t be so callous, Dempsey. I, too, am eager to continue our quest, to save Maxis, but she can be saved. Her wounds are not that bad. Give her a moment for the cola to work und we can start moving.”

Not that bad? I was dying! Wasn’t I….?

“I know your heart is in the right place, but the American speaks the truth. We will die if we stay here.” A heavy Asian accent. Japanese?

Wow, some real hero types we got here…

“Takeo, my interest in saving her goes beyond empathy. She is here, wearing a lab coat yet… I do not recognize her as one of Group 935 und she may know something about what is happening.”

Gosh, they really knew how to make a girl feel special. You opened your eyes and surprised yourself by sitting up. Had it really not been that bad after all? You felt weird: cold and fuzzy. “Where am I?”

You watched the men narrow their eyes at you and then look at each other, a not so hidden conversation happening between them. We don’t trust her. Finally, the one wearing a white button up and tan vest spoke to you. “We found you injured.” Ah, the yummy German voice. (You'd always had a thing for accents.)

But he did not give you an answer to your question, you noted. One of the men moved his finger to the trigger of his weapon and you swallowed. They wouldn’t save you just to kill you, would they? They probably had questions you didn’t have answers to, but maybe telling them what you knew would keep them from deciding you were more worth a bullet than their time. “I don’t know how I got here. I think the shrapnel was from the explosion of the particle accelerator? I didn’t get a good look at it, but it was in me when I woke up in the mud.”

It was just… impossible… that you were standing right now. Truly, there was no way with that bad a stomach injury that you should be up and about. They were exchanging more looks. Finally, the German – he must be the leader or something – spoke:

“You are at a dig site, in northern France. I am Doctor Edward Richtofen.” Like… the pilot? The Red Baron? Interesting.

“(y/n). So you are who I owe my thanks.” You examined the room around you. It was half destroyed and filled with rubble, but there were old radios and equipment on the tables. “Would it be strange if I asked what year it is?”

The doctor narrowed his eyes, his jaw working as he mulled something over. “It is 1918. From what year did you arrive?”

You couldn’t answer him because everything was suddenly reeling. You reached out to grab the table you’d been lying on for support, but your hand missed, and the ground was coming up fast. Strong hands grabbed you, helping you lower to the ground safely. You were going to vomit. Was there even anything in your stomach to vomit? Apparently, the answer to that was yes as you leaned over the arm holding you and spewed bile on the dirt. “This feels so real…”

“I’m afraid it is very real. It appears you may have crossed here by one of the localized energy fields.”

“We got incoming, Richtofen!” No Accent yelled.

“Help me with windows!” That fourth man you hadn’t heard speak yet yelled. Russian? The Japanese man came to help him with some boards.

“I don’t want to be here,” you moaned, looking up at the doctor through watery eyes.

“I do not blame you for that, but you are here and that cannot be changed now. If you wish to see any type of tomorrow, even if it is not the one you would have had, you need to find in you the will to persevere. It is dangerous here, und while we will try to get you to somewhere safer, I cannot jeopardize my mission for you. We need to move so you need to decide now whether you will stay here und pray you survive or come with us und fight.” He pulled a pistol from his holster and held the handle to you. “I hope you are a fast learner.”

Shaking, you took the pistol from his hand and got your feet under you to stand, nodding that you understood. He nodded back at you before searching a body you now saw resting against the nearby wall. Something terrible must have happened to it. It looked burnt, decayed, and you now noticed how horrible everything smelled. Richtofen stood up with a new pistol, checked the bullet count, and then moved to help the others at the windows.

There was a horrible sound, a cacophony of pained grunting, moaning and screaming. You looked out the window to see the source and… “Are those… zombies?” You asked incredulously. Out of all the impossible things that had happened to you, this was the most ridiculous.

“Yep,” No Accent said, shooting through the window with a shotgun as one lunged to get through. “Welcome to the shitshow, sweetheart!”

[firefly-inkling]

Inkling HRT 02: New Friends

Silver has her 3 month appointment, as her transition is going smoothly. Meanwhile she works to find an online support group and make new friends

Inkling HRT: Month 3

-Beak and radula have fully formed! No more teeth brushing, but stuff gets stuck in the radula :p

-Head-tentacles are starting to form, they’re this really pretty light blue with a darker blue gradient at the end

-Skin is a lot smoother and acne cleared up

-Eyes turning silver? Like my name.

-Ends of ears are pointed!

-Mainly waiting on the photophores and shapeshifting now…

Silver was not looking forwards to her 3 month follow-up with the doctor. But wasn't that a given? Erian's methods were sketchy, advice questionable at best, hell, his office was in a back alley, and not able to be viewed on Google Maps. Silver had no idea how he wasn't arrested for some medical malpractice type bullshit, but well.

It worked.

She runs a hand down the ends of her hair, starting to form into head-tentacles. Feeling the cold and slightly squishy skin, which is a light blue in color.

She makes sure her camera is on, link open.

Silver takes a breath.

~~🦑~~

“Ah, hello Silver. I'm glad to see your treatment going well.”

The doctor nods, and Silver can hear his fingers tapping on the table.

“I'm aware. Though I've got to ask, you mentioned a lot of painful internal changes- how do I deal with those?”

“Oh yes. 6 months in. You'll be getting painkillers around that time. I assume you have somebody to look after you during this window?”

“I have a roommate who can. I trust him.”

“Good.”

The air is quiet for a few seconds.

“Are there any online or in person support groups for this treatment?” Silver asks. It's something she's thought about for a while- being able to talk with people like her, choosing to shed their humanity in exchange for something more comfortable.

“I unfortunately have... some laws I must follow. So you will have to look on your own.”

Silver groans.

“But I'm sure it'll be fast. Anyways. Your refills should be able to be picked up in a week, and I will be seeing you in a few months- before the internal changes start to kick in. Goodbye, Silver.”

“Goodbye.”

~~🦑~~

Once Silver closes out of the zoom call with Doc Eria, she can feel a weight lift off her shoulders. Being around him was always so stressful, even a bit meddlesome.

Luckily he'd be off her back for a few months now.

Silver then opens up her browser, and starts searching up terms.

“Human Replacement support group”

“Furry HRT Chatroom”

“Human Replacement Discord Server”

It's hard, but soon she finds it. A small community online, only about 30 people- targeted at those going through humanity removal, or are considering it.

Needless to say, the young woman joins.

It's what one expects from a Discord server, with a few extra rules around not making assumptions around species, be kind to those considering humanity removal, the like.

Silver verifies she read the rules, and then makes an intro post.

“Hello! Or should I say woomy? Anyways, I'm Silver, 3 months into Inkling HRT (Firefly squid). Was looking for a community or support group, and here I am! It's so nice to meet all of you!”

Silver then starts to browse the server, coming across a section for questions.

“Hello! So, during my first appointment, my doctor said I was lucky to not have a 'crossroads state'- what was he talking about?”

She checks her intro, with squid and paintbrush reactions, which seems fitting enough.

Then she gets her answer.

“It's mainly a thing in people transitiooing to a non-humanoid species; assuming that's why he said you didn't have one. Basically, it's a point where the person must consider if they want to fully shed their humanity and live their lives out as that animal, or just be an 'anthro' version of it.”

Silver is a bit surprised. It. It sounds like a lot to the woman. But she also understands in a way- wanting to fully shed your humanity, run away, and never look back.

“I see. I guess I also have another thing. My medication set comes with this crystaline pills. My roomate has made so many Breaking Bad jokes but I have no idea what the hell it does.”

She leaves it at that. Besides, it's time for dinner anyways.

~~🦑~~

“So, how did the meeting go?”

Silver sits down at the dinner table of her apartment, where her roomate Bradley is cooking food. The two weren't dating or anything along those lines- just living in the same place and splitting the rent. Bradley had been fairly encouraging of Silver's transition; even if he was a little confused, he got the spirit.

“The doc wants you looking after me in about 3 months from now. Since apparently I might be in a lot of pain during that time period.”

“You know why?”

“Inklings have different organs, 3 hearts, no bones, and assuming that's gonna be what happens to me.”

“Ouch. But yeah, can take a bit off work for it, or can grab one of my friends to also help.”

“That would be nice. What's for dinner?”

“Pasta. Made crab ravioli.”

“Nice.”

Bradley take a pot off the stove, and splits the ravioli between two plates.

“Bon appitiet.”

The two eat in silence, with Silver focusing on her food. She had been eating a lot more lately, with the pamohlet saying it had to do with increased metabolism. She had also started to eat more seafood- to the point where stuff like vegtables barely seemed appetizing.

At least she could eat carbs in moderation.

Once she's done, Silver puts her dish in the dishwasher, and heads to her room.

~~🦑~~

Her question was answered while she was eating with Bradley, by a user with a wolf profile picture.

“Oh, I've heard about that from people transitioning to more fantastical species. Like dragons and stuff. It does a funky thing with DNA but I'm not the person to ask about that stuff.”

“I see. Interesting.”

Silver then starts browsing the server, getting to know people. There's people choosing to transition to all different types of creatures, along with those hoping to get on humanity removal, but cannot due to finances or other outside situations.

It seems like she has a place where she belongs. All that's left for the next few days is to settle in.

[celestialmenagerie]

some lore about my hsr ocs — specifically about their empire they rule over :3

Before I get to my main point — I’m gonna give a bit of background first.

As seen in the doc with info on my OCs, my hsr OCs are from a fictional country called Ifreau. It’s essentially the capital nation of the planet-wide empire, on the planet Galathea.

(Map I drew a while ago for your convenience <3)

The names of the islands (the words in purple) and their capitals (the words in white) are named after the gods and goddesses in their pantheon, who they worship. (They don’t worship aeons, I’ll explain that another time <3) The city of Kaliopa on the middle island is the heart of the empire, and that is where the palace is located, as well as the royal family.

The empire is ruled by the Empress, which is Aurelia, currently. After her, Calliope will take the throne, and then Gineva after her. The first daughter in every generation in the royal family always takes the throne. If the eldest daughter dies, then the daughter after her will assume her place instead.

Galathea (also referred to as Paradisus Aeturnus by foreigners) is a matriarchal planet, which is mainly influenced by their polytheistic beliefs in their gods. (Long story short, goddesses are held in very high regard for their role in maintaining and protecting the planet and its people, I’ll go into more detail on that in a separate post later on)

So that’s why the empress rules instead of the emperor. But, onto the thing I mainly wanna talk about! :3

A few months ago, I assigned the official seal for the royal family.

(Here it is, sorry for the ass quality 😭)

I’m gonna explain a few key points on it <3

Starting with the two flowers — the flower is called a “Heart of Iavolla”, and was associated with one of the goddesses in the Galathean pantheon. (It got its name from the heart shaped petals)

Onto the two wings on the top left and right — these are specifically wings from Calli’s pet Ridora (a creature that is basically a dragon but with two pairs of wings. they are also rumored to be reincarnated galatheans. calli’s ridora has a rare genetic mutation that caused hers to have three pairs of wings). The wings are the same colors as the ridora itself, but the sunset palette also symbolizes a few day being just on the horizon.

The crown above the snake — this symbolizes the first crown the Galatheans made for their first empress, who was rumored to be one of the goddesses herself. This crown, unfortunately, has been lost to time. No one knows exactly where it is, but there are rumors that the royal family keeps it in a vault somewhere.

The snake wrapping around the hand — this is a reference to one of the myths in the pantheon. One of the goddesses had aid from a pit of snakes when she was injured, and they nursed her back to health.

The words on the bottom — the words are in Ifreauan, and roughly translate in English to “May the gods bless you”. This phrase is also a common saying among locals, usually used in gratitude for something.

That’s all for now!! Lmk if you have any questions, and I’d be happy to answer them :)

[praxcrown5]

Cars Headcanon: Doc's Grandfather

I'm Fleshing out the characters for a Cars fanfic. Gonna revisit Doc's grandfather now that I have a more solid idea of how he fits into the story.

Doc's grandfather was Otis James Glenrunner (factory designation: O50E1927185CU05121905 Cycle 9, Rotation 183, Batch 12B). He was the youngest of three children sired by Samson Glenrunner and Aiofe Maeve Glenrunner nee O'Brien…though his siblings wouldn't survive the Desert Days, a mega-drought that followed the Factory Wars, crippling the world economy between 1876 and 1897. He was modeled in the likeness of an Old World, 1927 Oldsmobile model 50E coupe, and was manufactured on 05/12/1905 at the Oldsmobile Factory in Detroit, Michigan.

Otis' parents survived the Desert Days by partnering with another, prominent, family in the area--the Longhaulers--fixing 'em up in exchange for a portion of their corn and lumber. Otis' father was able to turn the crops and wood into an ethanol-based fuel, that wasn't near as good as gasoline, but it was better than a lot of other "poor fuels" being cooked up at the time. They'd turn the leftover corn into moonshine to extend its shelf-life…and sell it to make additional cash.

Otis learned the family trades, and was an expert mechanic by the time he was eight. When prohibition started in '15, he helped his father run moonshine to Atlanta, and took a more active role in maintaining the still. Two years later, the ATF raided the garage and destroyed the still. His father was shot trying to protect it, and would succumb to his wounds a week later.

Following his passing, Otis took over running the garage, and immediately started work on a new still, but this time around, he was gonna make it much harder to find. His friend, Skids Longhauler, gave him a map of the old underground anthracite mines, and while exploring one day, he happened to find a ventilation tunnel that ran under his property. He shored up the walls, extended the tunnel to a nearby creek and with some help from Skids and his brother, Spinney, they were able to divert half of the creek's flow through the tunnel and used it to make an industrial-grade still.

By '19, he had made enough money selling moonshine that he was able to add a convenience store to the garage, rebranding the business Glenrunner's All-in-One. He married Elizabeth Marie Owen in '20, and the pair would sire twin boys, Carl and James, that same year. The Great Depression of '21 would hit the town hard, and many of the Glenrunner's, including Otis' mother and step-father, would give up on the town and head north. Otis and his wife decided to stay, with Otis managing the garage and Elizabeth running the store.

Once Carl and James were four, Elizabeth began training them to run the store seeing as neither wanted to become a mechanic. Otis and Elizabeth would sire a daughter, Annette, in '25. Three months later, while closing up the shop, Elizabeth began complaining of intense pain near her coupling panel. As there wasn't an actual hospital in town, Otis asked Skids' if he could help transport her to Atlanta, but she collapsed just as they were getting ready to leave…and died an hour later. Her cause of death was ruled to be "complications from siring," though Otis had a strong suspicion that the technician who serviced her at the Cadillac factory was somehow complicit. James and Carl, despite only being five, stepped up to help him run the shop…and when Annette turned five, Otis began teaching her mechanical engineering.

About that time, Skids was injured in a freak logging accident. Spinney called Otis to the line, but the injuries to Skid's cabin were too severe, and Otis could only watch as his best friend died in front of him. Spinney was devastated. He blamed Otis for Skid's death, and the once amicable relationship between the Longhaulers and the Glenrunners began to wane.

His daughter, Annette, married Spinney's son (and Skid's nephew), Samuel Longhauler, in '36, much to his surprise. Everything seemed good for a time. However, Annette and Sam were unable to sire children together. Diagnostic scans of Annette's reproductive hardware revealed nothing out of sorts, and Otis began to suspect that Spinney knew his son was sterile and wanted him to marry Annette as a way of getting back at Otis.

In '38, Annette had an affair with the wanted outlaw, Diesel O'Twill, whom was badly injured in the collision that actually stopped his daughter from killing herself. Otis recognized the tripper right away, and did everything in his power to speed along "Ghost's" repairs...not wanting to attract the wrong sort of attention to his garage...and the still hidden underneath it. Despite being angry with Annette for doing something so rash...he accompanied her to Detroit to pick up his grandson.

Otis, James and Carl were arrested in '47 when the ATF raided the garage looking for Annette's son, Hudson. Upon being released in '53, he was horrified to discover that Annette had worked herself near to death trying to keep the business running with only Sam to help her. He took on some of her work at the garage, hoping that the lighter workload would help her recover, but Hud's crash in '54 combined with Sam's untimely passing in '58 was too much, and Otis would lose his beloved daughter in '59 due to cabin fatigue.

He and his sons kept running Glenrunner's until '89, when Carl passed due to natural causes. He and James would retire soon after that, selling the business and moving to Buffalo, New York. There they would open the Hidden Still Distillery, selling various types of whiskey as a way to keep busy and make a bit of cash.

Like most everyone else in the country, they were watching the tie-breaker race between Lightning McQueen, Chick Hicks and Strip Weathers…and were shocked and surprised to see that Hud was alive and well…and, once again, involved in racing. It wouldn't be until '08 that they'd be reunited, flying out to Radiator Springs to spend a few weeks with Hud, catching up and otherwise enjoying his company. James would pass in '13, and Otis would pass in '15, having outlived all of his children and grandchildren.

Personality wise, Otis was intelligent, shrewd and innovative. He was also a loving and devoted father and husband who would do anything to protect his kids. But he was also a rule breaker, willing to straddle the grey area between morally justified and questionable if it would ensure his family's safety and/or security.

Interesting Facts: He and Elizabeth's marriage was arranged. He was a good brawler, and held his own against Spinney, a pickup truck, when the two of them got into a physical altercation over the whole Annette/Sam infertility debacle. He was an excellent singer, specializing in Old World music. He had hidden compartments all over his body from his time as a whiskey tripper.

[tales-of-aolara]

MAP & FLAG OF ELDEARON

+ Some lore dump

(inspired by the Sicilian flag, since a lot of the culture/architecture/clothing in Eldearon is inspired by traditional Italian art and traditions)

The structure of Eldearon is that it is mainly government-less, however towns/cities can have their own systems, there is not a ruling force like in Lullan, Seren, or Moricust. Theres many nomad groups who wander the lands, there's small towns that trade with other small towns, stuff like that.

Its full of magical creatures, spirits, and considerably feywild things- granted it is a bit more stable than how it is in Lullan. People live beside these things pretty easily and its a pretty natural symbiotic relationship between people and the feywild- because that wild is everywhere.

There isn't a system that the Cae religion rules upon, but people worship the Cae pantheon pretty individually. One nomadic clan may worship one thing, one city may worship another, and another town would also have shrines and or temples to multiple gods. There's a bit of each god everywhere (quite similar to Faerun). There's a certain sense of harmony in Eldearon, however its not devoid of terror. Theres quite a few people who worship more "evil" and "self absorbed" gods who will commit brash and petty actions, and a lot of Liches actually end up arising from Eldearon.

It is also VERY unstable in terms of how the planes work there, considering many people from other planes/realms have been able to come in and out of Aolara through breaches in Eldearon. It has many rips in the material plane, it is a very unstable place due to the eldritch power that exists there, and in the eldritch isles (which reside in between Eldearon and Moricust, however it is closer to Eldearon). From other realms, Eldearon is the easiest access point into Aolara due to the veil between worlds and planes of existence being very thin there.

The creatures on Eldearon range from being bug-like in nature, to being almost dinosaur-like and fluffy (ie: horses may look like dragonflies and have dragonfly-like features; there's weird guar-looking creatures who are furry instead of scaly).

The underdark technically exists here, however its where a good chunk of the ancient peoples of Eldearon lived. There are many tunnels and cities that have been long abandoned due to the rise to the air. Instead of being called the "underdark", it is called The Depths or The Deep.

Cae is an umbrella term for the religions present in Eldearon. The main races that reside in Eldearon are Laiven (woodelves), Draven (drow), Fauven (fawn elves), Allves (high elves), Telumven (mushroom elves), Firbolgs, and Bugbears. - Doc

[niobiumao3]

WIP Folder Game

ty so much to @enigmatist17 for the tag!

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

So I use Scrivener projects, which means I don't have individual docs for a lot of things but projects which in turn hold a bunch of stuff. That said, the WIP folder has the following Scrivener projects:

Descent_timeline - Descent actually has a potential interquel and sequel, Azimuth and Declination, but I don't know if I'll write them. I'm undecided, I had a couple of scenes for each. Declination was Cross and Omega in Tantiss and Azimuth was Phee's POV of Descent. I may still do Azimuth, but Declination feels a little redundant now.

Obliquity_timeline - Obliquity's sequel, tentatively called Precession, is about 15-20% done but fully mapped/planned, and I hope to get it done once MSS is finished.

Downside_timeline - Down Side of Me has an interquel, from Phee's perspective, which I will probably still write but I only got about 20% through before Obliquity ate me alive.

TBB_ficlets - This is the catchall bucket for smaller projects, which contains…

Westpunk AU - This one probably won't get written, but maybe it will as a little one off (she said, like she did for MSS, and well, anyways...). The idea was a sort of Western setting variant similar to MSS but in the way MSS is early 1800s-ish tech with biopunk and alchemy, this would be late-1800s western, with airships and solarpunk and so on. Phee is from a small island off the coast in need of trade with the Tuskens, and the Batch have some interactions with them and can offer passage and a trade liason. There are bandits. There are flying fathiers. Etc.

Starfall - This is a potential little oneshot adventure, Tech and Phee spelunking in a ruin. I'll get to it at some point. Mapped out, not written.

Crack - This is a truly ludicrous modern AU @ahsokastechie and I came up with to satify our ridiculous desires for a situation in which Phee and Tech are Magic: the Gathering nemeses. It is truly ridiculous and has no redeeming qualities, and I love it.

MSS_timeline - Mercury Salt Sulphur has a putative followup, called Axis Mundi, but I'm still thinking it over. It would be kinda fraught. But maybe that's okay. We'll see.

Prawns - This is, you know. The porn collection. Of which there's not much, but there it is! The only WIP in it at the moment is for MSS, called Quintessence.

I NPT all the people! Especially @nightskyfoxyy and @ahsokastechie! But anyone who sees this, REVEAL TO US YOUR SECRETS. You know, if you want to.

[poeticpains]

very interested in a lot of these but!! you can choose between 22, 27, or 35! ( or do them all, whichever works )

(From this. It's been a while, but anyone is welcome to ask me more at any time!)

22. How organized are you with your writing?

Not very. The most I do is write out general outlines of what I want to write next, and they're often handwritten on scraps of paper and then shoved somewhere in one of my desk drawers. Sometimes I send ideas or outlines to my friends, but I don't really see that as "planning" in the traditional sense, and it's certainly not organized.

I'm definitely not one of those writers with meticulously organized Google Docs with color-coded idea maps and each chapter outlined in detail. I'm often quite envious of them, though.

27. Who is the most stressful character you've ever written? Why?

I'll go with just Escape the Night characters, since this is an ETN blog.

I think my most stressful character is probably Nikita. I have a lot of trouble getting into her head, so to speak, and I always agonize over whether she's truly in-character enough. She's a very complex character with a lot of layers to her, and while this is true for most of the characters in ETN, there's just something about her that makes me feel wrong-footed whenever I try to write her.

Make no mistake that all of the ETN characters are stressful to write in their own ways, though, even if you're just focusing on Season 3. I'm not even going to try to go into how hard it is to accurately capture DeStorm's character, for example.

35. What is your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

Honestly, it might be an unpopular opinion, but I generally follow most of the conventional writing rules.

(If you had asked me this a couple years ago, I probably would have said that I never follow the rule of "only write what you know." However, I recently read an article that detailed this rule and gave me a new perspective on it. Instead of taking it as a condemnation of any author who dares to write about people whose experiences don't line up perfectly with their own, I take "write what you know" as a call to find ways to relate to characters. For example, Joey watched his friends die. This has thankfully never happened to me. But I have lost friends, in one way or another, sometimes in ways that were traumatic for me. Therefore, I take my own experiences and use those to inform my interpretations of experiences that I haven't...uh...experienced.)

[void-botanist]

WIP name game

Thank you @365runesoftheamalgamations for the tag!

Rules: share the titles of WIP docs, whether they’re serious or simply placeholders, so that people can send an ask regarding a title that most interests them, and then share either a snippet of that WIP or something regarding it. Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I've done a similar one previously and I thought for this tag it would be fun to dig into the documents inside one Scrivener file. So here's the scenes from Nicea:

Intro what Leaving the office Switcheroo Spa o' clock Calling off Contract ended Tristan and Mal Teagan Fay Loose ends Bo's parents Sisters Storage unit Owen Airing out Mapping Playing the pub Farewell to the ancestors Revalo juice party Broken arrangement Gwinnia Christina/corona Brunch/the jacket map suckage warp corridors screw them over Drift city blues Emergency contact Michael New map Double jump Swamp planet No regrets queueing Caught Althea Bad Moon Rising Confi(de)n(c)e Fight Retail therapy Shower Ripples Bunk Tatiana Arvenswold boyfriend nail party at tatya's Wolf Spill Transmission A mechanic's date drinks Guilt Please Strategy

I'm not going to tag that many people but I will tag @sarahlizziewrites, @vacantgodling, and @malloen8c, plus anyone who wants to join in!

Nicea taglist: @kahvilahuhut @malloen8c @outpost51 @writernopal @athenswrites

[alltheotherblogs]

L.U.R.K.E.R. UPDATE!

ALRIGHT! SO, this is the first official update of LURKER! I won't be posting the Google Doc just yet. But I wanted to come out and let you know what's done.

Factions

Factions are done! The way factions work is done! You need to wear a patch, or people hate you, the patch you wear is the faction you are assumed to be a part of, unless you have a reputation with another faction.

Artefacts

Artefacts are outlined and about ready!

Items

Items are outlined! we will have alcohol, cigarettes, food, and drinks! I'm partially porting over alcohol and cigarettes from my previous campaign "Tobacco and Firearms" a wild west survival campaign. So it should work pretty well.

Anomalies

Anomalies are added! there are hazards throughout the zone that I can just pick up and drop down anywhere, and they'll appear frequently in combat! :O

Mutants

Most of the mutants are done. There will be both fewer mutants from the series, but also a few homebrew mutants to help LURKER fit into the concepts of D&D.

Weapons

Weapons themselves, combat rules, and additional or altered properties to base 5e are all done. For instance, we're using Unwieldy, an optional property from base 5e. But we're adding stuff like Backblast, Tunnel Vision, Crewed, Optic, Overheat, Rapid Fire, Spread, Automatic Fire, Penetration, Variable Penetration, and we're reworking Load and Reload since the firearm rules of base 5e are

SHIT!!!!!!!

Armors

Suits are done until further notice. Additional armor mechanics have been added!

Vehicles

"ATO's Pat & Crew Based Vehicle Combat" is almost ready! And pretty much done.

Character Creation

Subclasses

The outlines for the subclasses are ready to be filled out. There will be Trooper Fighter, Mutated Barbarian, Anomaly Hunter Rogue, Gunslinger Monk, Zone Guide Ranger, and Zonecraft Druid.

Backgrounds

Backgrounds are outlined, and about ready! We'll have a LOT! based on Scar, Strelok, Skif, and yes, even Degtyarev.

Proficiency

Proficiencies have been added! A homebrew ruleset from my personal house rules called "Other's 'Learn a Skill.' " has been added. It'll let you earn XP towards getting a proficiency and work towards it during downtime. You can also gain an expertise through this method, though it's very hard, and subject to change. It was designed with a campaign that would take multiple years to complete in mind, LURKER is not designed to take multiple years, so it's being adapted.

Artefact Spellcasting.

There will be spells, but you'll need Artefacts, spellslots are pretty much gone! That does mean some things, and I won't spoil it because I want you to find out on your own... But, Artefacts are leveled 1-9, and you can find them, buy them, hold onto them, use them for their benefits, or use them to cast spells. You need artefact storage for artefacts that will radiate you or others.

Notes

This is gonna be a survival setting in a pre-established world with a pre-established map, pre-established lore, but it's going to have no restrictions. I wanna be super clear. Besides Artefact spell casting, you can be anything you want in all my settings. It's just not recommended that you go with stuff like "Astral Self Monk" or something. You will want to go for the ranged classes, and want to go for the homebrew stuff. Guns are stronger than swords by a mile, we all know that. And you don't want to be stuck as a paladin who can do a max of 170 damage per turn when you are fighting a Tank. You won't be able to penetrate it's armor, smite or not.

Consider this the 0.1 Update. There will be more to come, but I'm more than half way done. As for D&DB:Z's stat blocks being done by july 4th, I think I'm fucked.

[sl130031]

So a lot of people are wondering what the hell happened in Maine and Vermont. Some of it of course is increased housing cost, but there are other forces driving it. Maine Housing actually provides an explanation in their annual reporting:

(Picture shows the first page of a 2024 report from Maine Housing https://mainehousing.org/docs/default-source/housing-reports/2024-point-in-time-report.pdf)

It notes that:

- Maine used COVID programs to provide free motel rooms to people without permanent housing. Many of those people would have normally sought informal arrangements like staying with family or friends and not been counted as homeless.

- Maine has a rental assistance program that serves many unhoused people, so it counted that program as transitional housing and included the participants as homeless in the state's 2023 report. Evidently, it should not have been counted under federal rules. So, Maine was over-reporting compared to other states.

Some things not directly mentioned but I think are worth noting:

- Maine and Vermont are small states with low total counts of unhoused people. Low total numbers make a state very volatile when measuring percentage change.

- Maine and Vermont have relatively small percentages of unsheltered people when you consider the homeless population. If you look at the report, most unhoused people in Maine are sheltered, meaning that they are staying in government-funded motels, shelters, and transitional housing. In 2023, 68% of California's unhoused people were unsheltered, meaning they were sleeping on the streets, in vehicles, and in other structures not fit for human habitation. For the same year in Vermont, that rate was 4%. This is important because there is a significant difference between being in government-provided transitional housing and sleeping outside when it comes to quality of life. Also, sheltered people are much easier to count. States with many unsheltered people are more likely to undercount their homeless population.

Since a large increase to the number of unhoused people is bad regardless of the reason, why does this stuff matter?

It matters because, to their credit, the state governments in Maine and Vermont are actually working on this issue. They have gathered robust, accurate data, beyond the minimum required by HUD. They made full use of COVID funds to provide temporary housing to as many people as possible, which is a good. They have put significant funding into shelters, transitional housing, and general assistance programs so that people at least have a safe place to sleep while the government works on the broader issues. Yes, there is still a long way to go, but they are trying.

If you look at that map without context, you would say that these state programs are a total failure. Politicians and other people who want to cut programs to help unhoused people love to argue that those programs aren't worth it. "The homeless are lazy drug addicts who are beyond help. See what happened, these states reward those people with assistance and shelter, so a bunch more people decided to just mooch off tax payers. The states that don't hand out welfare saw a decrease because people understood that they have to work."

The problem is, people believe that. Maine is a state that has had some terrible elected officials (just Google Paul LePage, the former governor who called himself "the Trump before Trump"). The good things the state has done could easily be undone if a state election goes badly. Luckily, that hasn't happened yet. You might notice from the graph above that, in the last two years, there are new transitional housing programs in the state. That is only happening because in 2022, when Paul LePage tried to take back the governor's office, Mainers show up to vote en masse, with the highest turnout in the country for that midterm election. People voted to protect reproductive rights, social programs, and environmental initiatives that Maine has been implementing, and gave the Democrats control of both parts of the legislature and the governor's office.

That's why it is really important that people understand the full context instead of just wondering "what the hell is going on with Maine and Vermont (or any other state)". It's critical to look at both the finer details and broader context, rather than just deciding that something is a total nightmare based on one number. As the federal government slashes funding for social programs in the coming years, state programs are going to become even more consequential to people's lives. We need to evaluate program efficacy and acknowledge the full scope of the problems that exist, but we also have to contextualize those criticisms and recognize the positive effects of the imperfect efforts being made.

Percent Homeless Population Change From 2020 to 2023

by VineMapper/reddit

[ethanblogger]

Mastering The Remote Work Life: Solutions Every Digital Nomad Needs

Remote work offers flexibility and independence, but it has unique challenges that can undermine productivity and joy. From blurred work-life boundaries to isolation and distractions, remote workers need intentional steps to thrive. Here is a practical guide to the best solutions for common remote work challenges:

1. Challenge: Time Blindness & Overworking

Solution: Scheduling + Time Awareness

Without reminders in the office, work time can creep into personal time. Resist this by:

Having Fixed Work Hours: Establish start/end times and make them known to your team.

Time Tracking: Use something like a toggletimer to track where your time is going visually. This is not micromanagement—it's about intercepting inefficiencies (e.g., unconscious 3-hour email binges) and logging off.

Calendar Blocking: Schedule deep work, meetings, breaks, and personal time. Make these blocks non-negotiable and schedule them first.

2. Challenge: Home Distractions

Solution: Environment Design + Focus Techniques

Home disorganization can disrupt concentration. Take back control by:

Dedicated Workspace: Even a dedicated small space signals "work mode."

Noise Management: Listen using noise-canceling headphones or ambient sound programs (e.g., rain noise).

Pomodoro Technique: Alternate between 25-minute work sessions and 5-minute breaks. Apps such as Focus Keeper automate this for you.

3. Challenge: Isolation & Burnout

Solution: Active Engagement + Boundaries

Loneliness and constant work mode are bad for mental well-being. Counteract that with:

Virtual Socializing: Enjoy regular virtual coffees or virtual work communities with coworkers.

Ritualized Breaks: Take a walk, stretch, or meditate—off screens.

Offline Activities: Emphasize activities that don't involve a keyboard (e.g., gardening, cooking).

4. Challenge: Communication Gaps

Solution: Clarity-First Practices

Miscommunication escalates rapidly remotely. Avoid this by:

Over-communicating: Check for understanding in communications (e.g., "To summarize, next steps are X").

Async-First Culture: Record by default (Loom, Notion) rather than live calls when feasible.

Weekly Syncs: Brief video check-ins for aligning priorities and resolving blockers.

5. Challenge: Unpredictable Productivity

Solution: Task Batching + Energy Alignment

Energy will fluctuate normally. Optimize output by:

Batching Similar Tasks: Batch similar emails, calls, or creative work to minimize context-switching.

Energy Mapping: Track your most focused times (e.g., using a toggletimer to indicate when you're at your most focused). Schedule complex tasks at peak energy times.

The "Two-Minute Rule": If it takes less than 2 minutes, do it immediately.

6. Challenge: Tech Fatigue 

Solution: Digital Minimalism

Endless notifications are stressful. Regain focus by:

App Consolidation: Consolidate 5 apps into 1 single app (e.g., ClickUp for tasks/docs).

Notification Culls: Mute non-essential notifications. Check Slack/email occasionally, not constantly.

Analog Alternatives: Brainstorm with a notepad instead of a screen. 

The Golden Rule: Try Everything There isn't a one-size-fits-all solution

What suits one remote worker will not suit another. Experiment with tools (such as time auditors like a Toggletimer, habits, and environments. Monitor your mood and productivity for a week, and repeat. Remote work relies on self-awareness and flexible systems rather than strict rules.

Written By Toggletimer

[the-social-soundwave]

Tired of Nosy Neighbors & HOA Drama? Grab This 1.93-Acre Arizona Slice of Freedom – Power Nearby, Big Sky Views, and Zero Rules (Except Maybe for Chickens 🐓)

➡️ PRICE: $94,000 CASH or $100,000 OWNER FINANCE!

👀 Escape the Ordinary

Let’s be real… not everyone dreams of a cookie-cutter house squished next to another cookie-cutter house, drowning in HOA fees and nit-picky rules. Some of us? We want space. Freedom. Quiet. Views. And maybe a few chickens.

This is 1.93 acres of unspoiled Arizona desert in New River, Maricopa County. It’s real land for real people who want dirt under their boots, sunsets that look like oil paintings, and a spot to build something meaningful.

👉 NO HOA. NO nosey HOA guy measuring your grass height. Just you, the mountains, the stars… and maybe a goat.

🌟 Why THIS Property Rocks

You’re not just buying dirt. You’re buying:

✅ 1.93 Acres of Freedom – Spacious, level, ready for your dream home or investment. ✅ Power? Yep! – Utility pole just ~200 feet away, saving you $$$ on hookup. ✅ RU-43 Zoning – Site-built homes only. Want chickens? Allowed. Goat? Also fine. No minimum square footage. ✅ No HOA – Build it your way, park your truck without side-eye from Karen next door. ✅ Dirt Road Access – Rustic charm + privacy, but still accessible by car. ✅ Gorgeous Big Sky Views – Watch the sunset paint the mountains every night. ✅ Nearby Fun: 30 min to Lake Pleasant, 4 min to New River, 10 min to Anthem, under 40 min to Phoenix!

✨ And did we mention… chickens allowed?! (Local health codes apply – but you’ll finally get those fresh eggs.)

❤️ Picture It…

🏜️ Imagine waking up, sipping coffee as the sun crests over the mountains. No traffic noise. No neighbors peeking over the fence. Just you, your land, and possibilities.

Build a site-built home tailored to your style. Set up a mini-ranch. Or just hold the land as an investment in a growing area.

⚠️ NOTE: Not zoned for mobile homes, RV living, or camping. This is for folks ready to build something solid and lasting.

🚀 Action: This Land Won’t Wait – Grab It Today!

🔹 CASH PRICE: $94,000 + $399 doc fee 🔹 OR… Easy OWNER FINANCING: $100,000 ➡️ $5,000 down to hold, $25,000 within 2 weeks, then $1,200/month – NO prepayment penalties!

👉 We’re flexible. We’re a small family business that loves helping folks like you own land.

✅ Clean title, warranty deed. Guaranteed.

📞 Contact Kristy Today!

📲 Call/Text: Kristy at 971-248-6715 📧 Email: sales@genfamland.com

🔗 Google Maps (see it yourself!): Click Here

🎥 Confused about buying land? Watch our easy YouTube video that breaks it down: Watch here

📝 The Nitty-Gritty

✔️ Zoning: RU-43 – Site-built homes only. No minimum size. Chickens & livestock allowed (within health code limits). ✔️ No Mobile Homes, No RV Living, No Camping ✔️ No HOA or POA – It’s YOUR land. ✔️ Access: Dirt road. ✔️ Power: About 200 ft west – easy hookup. ✔️ Sewer: Septic system needed. ✔️ Water: Need a well. ✔️ Taxes: $416.64/year (~$35/month if financing).

📍 Location: 2748-2898 W Twin Peaks Ln, New River, AZ 85087 📐 APN: 202-11-084-F

Legal description? Yeah, we’ve got it if you need it (but trust us, it’s long and boring – we’ll email it if you really want to read it 🤓).

🎯 Who’s This For?

✅ Folks tired of HOAs & rules ✅ Someone dreaming of building a home with SPACE ✅ Families who want privacy & views ✅ Investors looking for a solid land buy ✅ Animal lovers (yes to goats 🐐, chickens 🐓)

🚨 Don’t Wait – Land Like This Doesn’t Stick Around

You’ve scrolled this far. You’ve imagined the sunsets. You’ve felt that little spark.

👉 Call or text Kristy at 971-248-6715 or email sales@genfamland.com today!

🌄 Your Arizona dream starts now. Own a piece of the West before someone else stakes their claim.

[fahrni]

Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning from Charlottesville, Virginia! ☕️

Mike Barnes • The Hollywood Reporter

Ruth Buzzi, who was so hilarious as the lonely spinster Gladys Ormphby, the lady who swung her handbag as a lethal weapon, on Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In, has died. She was 88.

I’m old enough to remember Laugh-In and Ruth Buzzy was a hoot.

R.I.P. 🪦

Sarah Perez • TechCrunch

The judge ruled that developers should be able to link to other ways to make purchases from inside their apps, so they could process payments via their own website and payment systems. In doing so, developers should have been able to forgo paying Apple’s 30% commission on in-app purchases.

Some developers are already making changes to use their own payment system. I’ve read that Spotify is preparing a new release and Epic wants to return to the store with their own payment system. John Geubers hot take on Epic returning is a good read and one I hadn’t considered. I just figured it was a done deal, it might be?

Reuters

Danish consumers are boycotting Coca-Cola, Carlsberg (CARLb.CO), opens new tab CEO Jacob Aarup-Andersen said on Tuesday, noting that the brewer, which bottles the drink in Denmark, had seen Coca-Cola volumes decline while local rivals gain share.

It makes sense that other countries are abandoning American products. Prices are being driven up and who wants to pay a huge tax to buy something they can get locally?

Blabbermouth.net

“When we started working on ‘Moving Pictures’, everything came along just so effortlessly,” he continued. “We were well prepared, we’d written all the material, we knew what we were doing. We went in, we got sounds. We did things a little differently.

I’m pretty sure the Rush video for Limelight was recorded during this studio time. I wore that cassette tape out, it was so amazing.

CawsnJaws

Race and Commercial Breakdown of the 2025 Jack Link’s 500

Total minutes of complete race broadcast: 212 Minutes of race broadcast: 187 Minutes of traditional commercials: 25 Minutes of side-by-side commercials: 36

I’ll be checking this site out after each race this season. The total time we saw full screen racing was 186 minutes, which feels much longer than I recall.

The total commercial time was 61 minutes! An hour of commercials! One third of the time watching the race was commercials. Their side by side commercials, which they think is the cats meow, suck. The commercial takes up most of the screen and we get commercial audio.

I’ve seen action happening on the track I’d love see and hear full screen.

The coverage is very substandard. I hope Amazon does a better job than The CW and Fox. I’m not holding my breath.

Metal Hammer

Jerry Cantrell lends his voice to a song on the soundtrack to new vampire film Sinners.

It’s a nice little article and we get some insight into the directors mindset around the music for the film.

Daring Fireball

3 billion users = $15–$20 billion is not real math. It’s just bullshit. The users are only valuable right now because they perform a lot of Google web searches within Chrome. Chrome users also make money for Google by using other Google properties that show ads, like Maps and Gmail. And Chrome encourages users, in general, to use Google properties and services like Docs. If you try to work out how valuable Chrome is to Google, it’s seemingly worth a veritable fortune. But that doesn’t mean Chrome holds any value of its own, on its own.

Before reading this I was wondering how a company who forked WebKit to create Chromium is worth anything? As John points out it’s basically Google Search and Marketing. They also have great online services in Gmail and Google Docs. Read John’s piece he says it all.

Ben Smith and Liz Hoffman • Semafor

JC Chandor likes to joke that you could trade off the viewership data of Margin Call, the 2011 film that tells the story of an unnamed bank’s catastrophic 24 hours during the 2008 financial crisis.

I watch Margin Call once in a while and it’s loaded with amazing talent. Great film. It makes you realize how fragile our entire economic system really is.

*** Politics ***

Jamie Zawinski

So I guess we’re reaching the point where if you want to remain vaccinated against COVID, you’ll have to figure out how to buy an illegal import from this “dark web” I’ve been hearing so much about.

I’m digging the name Bobby Brainworms. I never ever thought our nation would ditch science for conspiracy theories.