#AND THE LOCALS CALL IT THE WALL OF SHARKS!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sluttyten · 9 months ago

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Siren's Call

Kinktober Day 4 | Renjun Masterlist | Member Masterlist

tags: y/n is a siren, fingering, dry humping, spanking, stuck in a wall, actually a lot softer than I originally meant it to be because I'm just soft for (and missing) Renjun

length: 5366

You’d always thought of yourself as an independent, self-reliant woman. You don’t need a man for shit.

Being a siren helped with that. Something about the ability to sing men to their deaths at sea just gave you a powerful, feminist perspective on the world. Your voice has power even when it sometimes feels like you’re just being reduced to the small voice of a woman in a man’s world.

Your mother, grandmother, aunts, and older sisters all helped you in the belief that you could do anything that you set your mind to.

Which, to be fair, was true most of the time.

Yet right now all of your determination was wasted.

You were stuck.

And your only hope of being free was a man.

A morning swim in the ocean was a typical part of your morning routine – it gave you the chance to stretch out your fins, to get the daily saltwater intake that you require as a siren. Usually you would follow the swim with nude sunbathing on the rocks behind your family’s home, sometimes accompanied by other women in your family, but usually alone.

Today you’d swum farther than you typically would, around the bend of the island, closer to the resort. Tourists were always there, covering the beaches and filling the water with so much sound as they jetskied, boated, paddle boarded, and played their loud music. Generally, you avoided the resort when you were in your siren form, but this morning you had a reason to swim a little closer.

You were hoping to catch a glimpse of a man.

Yesterday you’d been at work, wiping down tables in the resort’s lounge, when you spotted the prettiest man you’d ever seen. He was stretched out in a lounge chair, shaded by an umbrella. He’d been laughing at something his group of friends said, a vibrant drink topped with a pineapple slice and a little umbrella in hand, and a pair of yellow swim trunks sat low on his hips, his chest exposed between the open flaps of his palm tree patterned shirt.

He’d been so lovely. All fine features and a pretty voice, a sweet smile when you’d volunteered to be the one to run fresh drinks out to him and his friends. You’d overheard them talking about a morning paddleboard session to watch the sunrise.

“Aren’t you scared?” One of the guys asked.

“Why would we be scared?” The pretty boy you’re watching responded.

The scared one sits his drink down. “Didn’t you hear about the local legends? There’s more than just sharks in those waters that would take a bite out of us. They say there are sirens swimming in these waters, that they drown men and eat us. Remember when we were looking into coming here and there were all those reports of unexplained deaths and missing persons cases?”

Okay, so sometimes your family overindulges, but the locals are wise enough to steer clear of your hunting grounds. The money-hungry developers however couldn’t care less about the fact that they built an all-inclusive resort like a ready made all-you-can-eat buffet for you all.

The pretty one scoffed at his superstitious friend. “That’s because people are drunk and stupid. They drown, they don’t keep away from sharks, or they just have accidents.” His gaze flicks up to you as you offer him his new drink. “Thank you. Can I ask you something?”

You’d startled, but nodded.

“Have you ever seen a siren? Are they dangerous?” The way he asks the question tells you that he doesn’t believe.

You smile in return, your lips stretching wide over your teeth as you tell him, “Oh, yes, I’ve seen sirens. But they’re not dangerous, not really. Only if you provoke them. They’re more likely to seduce you than eat you.”

One of his other friends addresses you, and you reluctantly pull your gaze away from where his pretty eyes are watching your lips. His friend says, “I heard a rumor that if you capture a siren, she grants you a wish.”

The pretty one snorts with laughter. “You’re thinking of a genie.”

“Renjun, I’m serious! I swear, the local girl at the bar last night said that her uncle captured a siren once.” The other man sweeps his black fringe across his forehead, his eyes wide with sincerity. “She said the siren granted her uncle one wish, and that wish was to have sex with her. She claims her cousins are part-siren.”

The pretty one, whose name must be Renjun, rolls his eyes. “Sure. And what do you think?” He’s looking at you again.

You shrug. “Maybe if a siren is feeling generous or particularly inclined she might grant a wish. Guess you’ll have to see what you can find out there.” You wave a hand out towards the crystalline waters of the sea down the beach.

Renjun smiles and nods.

“I’m not going out there.” The scared friend states, folding his arms across his chest. “Not at that time. Dawn is when sharks are out hunting, so sirens probably are too.”

Which isn’t true at all. Sirens hunt at any time of day, anywhere. Including in broad daylight at the resort lounge.

Your uniform is a short, tight dress, and with your natural-born siren powers of seduction, it’s quite easy for you to work your magic. Pretty boy Renjun is wrapped around your finger. He sits aside his drink shortly after you walk away, and you can feel his gaze following you around as you deliver other drinks to other resort guests, as you move around cleaning off tables, as you dance along with one of your coworkers to a song playing. He watches the sway of your hips and the short hem of your dress.

You’re not surprised when he approaches you a little while later, when he starts flirting, when he lets you bring him around behind the storage area for the lounge chairs and umbrellas, when Renjun presses you up against the flaking paint and kisses you.

You’re the one that grabs his hand, encouraging him to slip it beneath your dress. He kisses across your collarbones, strokes your pussy over your panties. It’s only when you drop your hand to his ass and start groping a little that Renjun takes a little more liberty – he pulls your panties to the side, finally actually touching you as he grinds against your hip, his lips returning to yours for a feverish kiss.

Renjun cums with your sucking on his tongue, his cock twitching inside his pants against your hip, and just that simple fact that you made him cum without you really touching him takes you to your climax. His fingers are still pumping inside you, his thumb dancing against your clit, and when you drop your head back against the wall behind you, Renjun kisses down your throat, down to the curve of your breasts beneath your dress.

You would’ve done more, gone further, happily let him take you back to his resort room, but you were still technically on the clock. And just as Renjun’s tugging the neckline of your dress down so he can get to your tits, you hear your manager calling your name.

“Oh, shit, stop.” You push at Renjun’s shoulders, and he backs off. His hands fall away from your body, his swollen lips pouting as he watches you pull your dress back into proper order. “I’m so sorry, but I have to get back to work.”

“Can I see you again?” Renjun asks, reaching for your hand as you step around him. “Can we pick up where we left off?”

You’d like that. You really, really would. Even if Renjun doesn’t believe in who you are – the way he’d scoffed at the idea of sirens being real had stung a little, you can’t deny that – you’re incredibly attracted to him.

“I’ll be here again tomorrow afternoon.” But you intend to see him again before then. “See you around.”

So that’s why the following morning you’re on the hunt. Not for a meal – you ate a normal human breakfast before you walked out the back door – but for a bit of fun at the expense of Renjun and his friends.

The sun is breaking over the horizon when you spot them. Four boards sit high above you in the water. One of them boldly dangles his legs and arms in the water, making him a perfect target for a shark to mistake him as prey. You swim up towards them, veering a bit behind them so when you surface they won’t be likely to see you.

The water is so still this morning, making the sunrise stretch across the surface like a painting.

The voices of the men carry back across the water to you, and you hear pretty Renjun talking about how someone named Jisung should have come out here. “He was so scared of sirens, but all there are are little fish nibbling my toes.”

One of the others laughs loudly.

Maybe it’s stupid, but you just want to scare them a little bit. You sink below the surface again, and you quickly swim towards them. You let the water ripple above you enough that they notice, that they’re somewhat on alert, but you’re already diving down out of their sight in the dark water. You hear the murmur of their voices, Renjun’s laughter at the sound of alarm in one of the other guy’s voices.

He’s still so doubting, so quick to tease his friends about believing in sirens.

You rise up quickly, cutting so close by that you let your tail brush Renjun’s foot.

Even underwater, you hear the yelp and the swearing he lets out, and you look back up as you dive back down. His paddleboard nearly capsizes, his wobbling form just visible through the surface. He stabilizes himself on the board, his voice loud but you can’t make out his words.

Shortly after that, the sun is risen, and they begin paddling back toward shore. You follow at a distance, trying to stay deep enough that you remain out of sight as the waters lighten around you. But you swim away before they reach shore, heading back around the bend of the island towards your favorite rocky outcropping about halfway between the resort and your family’s home.

You pull yourself out of the water, hauling yourself up the rocks, and you stretch out on your back, letting the rising sun warm your bare skin and your scales. It takes time for your tail to separate into legs and for your scales to transform into human skin, and you just lie here to wait. You listen to the crashing of the waves against the rocks, the whistling of the breeze as it blows through the trees and through the cracks in the cliff that cuts down to this stretch of sheared away rock.

You shiver when your legs begin to split. It’s an itch, like when a cut is healing into a scab, and just like that, you long to itch it away, to dig your fingers into the growing crack between your legs, but if you rush it then your legs come out looking a little weird, as if you’d pulled a caterpillar out of its cocoon before it has finished its transformation into a butterfly.

Your fin disintegrates into sea mist, and you stretch your toes, roll your ankles. The transformation is almost done; you can feel your leg muscles, can shift your legs apart although you still feel the layer of scales tight against your skin. Just a little longer and you’ll rub your legs against the rocky surface like a snake shedding its skin.

“That’s incredible,” a voice says from several feet away.

You jolt upright, eyes flying open, heart racing as you look to see who has spoken.

Renjun stands there in those bright yellow swim trunks. You can see his paddle board beached on the rocks, the paddle jammed down into a crack in the rocky surface. His eyes are on your feet, on your developing legs, running along the iridescent shimmer until he reaches the point where your scales become human skin, and still his gaze roves higher to your breasts, your hair loose around your shoulders.

“I followed you here,” he says, taking a tentative step closer. “You startled me when you brushed against my foot, I’ll admit. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked down and saw your tail, your fin, and then I caught a glimpse of your face when you looked back up.” Renjun gestures back out at the water, saying, “I had to see for myself whether you just dressed up to scare my friends and I after you heard what we were saying yesterday, or if this was real. No one’s going to believe me that you’re real. I barely believe it.”

You tilt your chin, holding his gaze. “I told you I’ve seen sirens. You didn’t believe me then?”

Renjun smiles. “I’m more of a seeing is believing type of man. I need to experience things firsthand. I don’t buy into rumors until I’ve tested things myself.” He takes another small step forward. “So, is it true that if I capture you, you have to grant me a wish?”

Now you recognize that gleam in his eye – a man after a prize.

The last of your scales fall away as you bolt to your feet. Your legs tingle a little as the blood really gets flowing, but you’re running across the rocks, aiming for the cliff face, for the narrow passageway you know that cuts through the rock and will drop you right back to the sea, far away.

“Hey!” Renjun shouts behind you, and you dare a glance backwards. He’s running after you, and you put on a burst of speed.

It’s been a while since you used the shortcut. Years, actually. The last time was when you were playing hide and seek with your cousins when you were, like, thirteen. They were halfies (yes, one was almost definitely the girl that Renjun’s friend had spoken to at the resort’s bar), which meant that they couldn’t transform as fully as you, so you’d run from them much like you were now because you knew that they wouldn’t have been able to follow you into the waters on the other side of this shortcut.

All you had to do was squeeze through the window that wind erosion has made in the face of the rock entrance to the passage, and then you’d have just a dozen yards before you could slip back into the sea.

You run a little faster, wanting to put more distance between you and Renjun, but his legs are far more awake and weight-bearing than your newly redeveloped legs are. He’s gaining on you, and you know that your only hope is to slip through the shortcut before him.

And there it is.

The hole in the cliff opens up before you, at about waist-height, looking just as tight as you remember.

“Hey! Listen, I–!” Renjun is shouting, his voice just feet behind you.

You dive for the hole into the passageway, your hands grasping at the rocky edges, you pull yourself through, and you can see the other end of the passage, where it drops off again into the ocean.

But then something isn’t right.

One thing you’ve forgotten in your quick escape attempt is a simple fact. The last time you used this path you were years younger. You were thirteen, on the cusp of puberty, and your body hadn’t developed as much as it has in the years since. When you were thirteen you didn’t have the hips of a woman, but now you do. And your hips are too big to fit through the fucking window worn into the cliff.

You curse loudly, trying to back out, thinking maybe you’ll still be able to slip away before Renjun captures you. No, it’s not a law of nature that a siren has to grant a wish to her captor, but it’s also just not historically been a great thing for a siren to find herself caught.

You wiggle your hips in an attempt to back up, but it’s no use. The edge of the passage’s entrance digs into your hips and belly. A bit of it crumbles away, but not enough for you to be able to slip backwards.

And then you feel a hand. You hear Renjun’s voice, “Oh, shit, are you stuck?”

You squirm, attempting to kick backwards.

You make contact with something, and Renjun swears.

“Go away! Leave me alone!” You kick around, and you just scream when you feel his hands attempting to stop your flailing legs.

“Please!” Renjun cries out from the other side of the wall. “Stop kicking! Stop screaming!”

You wail a little louder, putting a bit of your power into the sound.

“Hush, now!” Renjun shouts, and he slaps his hand lightly against your thigh. “I’m trying to help you! Stop fighting me!”

You can’t see anything behind you due to the wall, and that’s stressing you out. Squirm and wiggle as much as you might, but it does no good. More of the edge of the hole keeps crumbling away, but not enough for you to be able to free yourself one way or the other.

“Can you just hold still?!” Renjun shouts loud enough to be heard over your cries. You feel his hands rest on your waist. “I’m going to help you! I was joking when I said I was going to capture you. God, will you please hold still, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

You do fall still, mostly because all the moving around is really beginning to hurt your hips and waist and belly.

“How are you going to help?” You ask.

Now that you’re done struggling and crying, it’s quiet enough that you can actually hear Renjun sigh on the other side of the wall. You imagine him standing there, hands on his hips, a little furrow between his eyebrows as he stares at the back half of you protruding from this hole in the cliff.

“I’m not really sure,” Renjun admits after a moment. “I could push maybe? Or should I try to pull you back out?”

You groan, trying hard not to feel embarrassed the longer you’re stuck like this. You keep imagining what you must look like right now from his point of view, and all you can visualize is your ass and pussy hanging out in the open, in full broad daylight. Just last night he’d had you pressed up against the storage area wall, making out with you and fingering you, cumming in his pants because he wanted you so much, and now he’s looking at you from a totally unflattering angle.

“Why don’t I try pulling you back out this way?” Renjun suggests, and you feel the suggestion of his hands on your hips, not quite touching but you’re sure his fingers are hovering just centimeters above your skin. “If you’re alright with me touching you right now?”

You nod before you remember that he can’t see you doing that. “Yes, that’s fine. Just watch where you’re touching, okay?”

His hands fit more firmly on your hips. His leg brushes yours, a foot pushes between both of yours as he braces his foot against the wall. Renjun pulls, and you yell out as the rocks dig in against your waist. He pushes you forward a little, then tries pulling you back again as if that little bit of momentum will have helped.

It doesn’t.

Renjun mumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear through the wall. Then he pushes again, braces himself against you, and pulls back. He picks up this rocking motion that has you whining at the friction of the rocky edge against your skin, but you can feel the edge giving just a little more, so you don’t complain too much.

But then you realize that while Renjun is doing this, as he’s bracing himself against the back half of you –

“God, Renjun,” you groan and shout, “are you really getting hard right now?”

“No!” He denies even though you can feel the evidence against your ass right now.

“I’m stuck in the wall, and you’re getting hard?” You squirm around, but still it does nothing for you except to rub back against Renjun. “I bet you want to fuck me like this, don’t you? Like I’m just some warm hole that you stumbled upon.”

Renjun’s hand comes down against your ass, a sharp sting that takes you by surprise. “Listen, I happen to like you, not just all of this.” Again, his hand caresses your ass. You try to suppress the shiver that runs through you, the arousal that begins to pool hotly in your belly. “Sure, I’d like to have sex with you, but I would kinda prefer that you weren’t stuck in a wall for it. I really liked being able to see your face last night when you came on my fingers.”

“Yeah, well, I liked seeing your face when you came from humping my hip.” You wiggle again. “Just keep pulling like you’ve been doing, I think this might work.”

Again, he mumbles something.

“What?” You ask, and when he just presses himself right back against you, his hard cock lined up against your pussy, you kick your legs, trying to get him.

“Hey!” Renjun again, spanks a hand down on your ass. “I told you to stop kicking.”

You do it again just because you can. Another slap on your ass.

By this point, there’s no denying that you’re starting to get aroused. If he keeps spanking your ass, if he keeps grinding against you, you’re bound to get a little turned on.

Again, there’s his erection rubbing just there against you, and this time you press back into it as much as you can. You just need a little friction – this time, the good kind.

“Are you doing that on purpose?” Renjun asks, and he pinches your ass cheek.

“Maybe.” Your heart races as Renjun rolls his hips forward, and then with his hands on your hips, he yanks you back against him. Again, a few pebbles of the wall crumble away from around your waist, but it’s still nowhere near enough to set you free. “What are you going to do about it if I am doing it on purpose?”

Renjun’s response is unfortunately that he steps back, leaving your ass and pussy bared to the elements once again. “You’re just being bad. And you want me to help you out of this wall? Bad girls don’t get help. They get punished.” And then his hand comes down flat against your right ass cheek.

The moan that leaves you is loud enough that it echoes around the passageway in front of you.

“Did you like that?” Renjun asks, rubbing his hand soothingly over the burning imprint of his hand. “I think you must’ve, judging by that moan. And you’re so wet.” His thumb brushes along your ass, dangerously close to your pussy. He swings his other hand flat against the left side of your ass once and then again.

You whine, squirming around, feeling the burning heat of his handprint migrating to join the pool of arousal in between your thighs. God, if he spanks you again, you’re going to start dripping.

And then he does, once more to your right side ass cheek, and then quickly followed by a little slap directly between your legs.

“Renjun!” You cry out. If the wall wasn’t supporting you, you’d have collapsed to your hands and knees. Your legs tremble, and Renjun’s fingers quickly soothe the residual tingle left by the spank to your pussy. “Renjun, I’ll be good. Don’t stop.”

Perhaps that’s a confusing message, but at the moment, you don’t care. All you can think of is how much you want him to spank you again, to feel his hands on your ass and your pussy, you want him to keep touching you, you want him to loosen the front of his swimtrunks, get his cock out and fuck you even though you’re stuck in this stupid wall. You’re so wet and hot and desperate that you just need him inside you.

But if you’re being good, like you’ve just told him you’ll be, then what reason does he have to spank you some more?

“Tell me what it is you want, my siren. Sing me a sweet song, tell me what you want me to do to you.” Renjun’s fingers stroke between your legs. You feel the warm brush of his lips over the imprint of his hand on your ass. “Should we pick up where we left off last night?”

“Yes!” You gasp. “I want you to touch me, Renjun. I need you, need you inside me.”

As if that’s all that he was waiting for, Renjun slides both hands again to your hips, and he presses forward against you, sliding his bare cock right against your pussy, then thrusts into you.

It’s rough being stuck in this wall, getting fucked by the pretty boy that you just want to stare at. Your nails scrabble against the wall, just wanting something to hold onto as Renjun pushes you forward then pulls you back, rocking into you. He snaps a hand down against your ass again, and you jolt with a moan.

“You like that? Let me hear you, beautiful.” Renjun pinches, smacks, gropes you ass, rolling his hips forward to keep going with the push and pull. You keep moaning for him, your voice rising and echoing through the passageway. You’re sliding back and forth through the hole in the cliff face, with the rapid movements, with each time Renjun crashes into you and your combined lower halves collide with the edge of the entrance to the passageway, a little bit more of it crumbles.

The edge gives.

Just a little. Just enough.

The next time Renjun drags you back onto his cock by your hips, you keep pushing backwards, keep your upper half sliding back through the hole until you’re free.

You and Renjun tumble backwards, still connected when you land, and Renjun rolls you beneath him.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his hands racing over you, from your scratched and aching hips to your waist, up your chest to examine your perfectly alright tits, and then he’s cupping your face between his palms, turning your face from side to side.

“I’m fine.” You push at his wrist. “Renjun, I’m fine. Let’s just….”

He sinks down over you, covering your mouth, silencing you with a kiss.

Your hands settle on his waist, squeezing when Renjun starts moving again, smooth and steady thrusts, kissing you feverishly, like he just can’t get enough of you, like he’s drowning in the feeling of being with you. You don’t even care about the pebbles digging into your back and hips and ass. All that matters is Renjun’s body above you, his lips on yours, his cock hitting repeatedly against your G-spot, his thighs against yours, his breath mixing with yours as he breaks the kiss to pant, his gaze and yours connect and hold.

You feel a surge of your power course through you, and that’s it.

Renjun bucks forward a few more times, pressing in, trying to get deeper, and then he’s pumping his hips, burying his cock in deep as he cums.

“I’ve got you,” he sighs even as he collapses against you. He can’t even really support himself, but he slips one of his hands down between your bodies to your clit, and his hips twitch forward, grinding into you while he circles your clit, working endlessly to get you to cum for him too.

And you’re not sure what powers Renjun possesses, but surely he must have some because your orgasm swells rapidly, bursting through you and wiping you out.

Renjun moans your name as you cum around his cock, as you wrap your arms and legs around him. You press your cheek to his, moaning in his ear while you ride out the throes of ecstasy while he’s still touching you, still rolling his hips forward.

Even when Renjun’s movements slow and then cease altogether, when you’re both just lying pressed together on the rocks with the sounds of the crashing waves in the distance, you just hold him. Your hearts beat together, your breaths almost syncing.

“I hate that you’re a resort tourist,” you confess quietly after quite some time. “You’re exactly my type, you’ve just given me a great orgasm, and you already know I’m a siren. I don’t want you to leave.”

Renjun laughs, brushing a kiss to your ear. “You’re a siren, why don’t you just drag me into the ocean so I never leave you. Isn’t that part of the origin of the myths about sirens?”

“There are lots of myths about sirens. Most of them aren’t really true.” You brush your fingers through the soft, short hair at the nape of his neck.

“And the captive siren granting a wish, is that one true or false? Because I think, technically, I caught you.” Renjun lifts his head up so he can look down at you, smiling. “Do I get a wish?”

You don’t answer, instead raising your head to kiss him again.

The distraction works for a handful of moments, but then Renjun’s moving away, peeling his body away from yours. “Can I at least tell you my wish?” He asks, “In case you’re feeling generous or particularly inclined towards granting one?”

He pulls out of you, kneeling up while straddling your legs. You raise yourself up on your elbows, just looking at him, waiting.

“Ask me to stay,” Renjun says. “That’s my wish. Just ask me to stay a little longer, to extend my trip. I’m not saying that this has to be forever because that would be pretty bold to think that after we’ve known each other for such a short time, but just a little bit longer. You’re exactly my type too, I mean, minus the siren thing – but that’s only because I’d never considered that before. It's up to you, though, it's your call. Ask me to stay,” Renjun repeats, “and I’ll stay.”

You curl your hand around the back of his neck, bringing him down so his forehead rests against yours. “Renjun, will you stay with me?”

“Yes,” he agrees, nodding. “Yes, I’ll stay.”

But you don’t stay there, naked on the rocks together.

He has his friends to get back to, and you have work in the afternoon, so you can’t stay there as much as you might want to. Renjun eventually climbs off of you, and he pulls his swim trunks back on, though you lie there admiring him while he does. And then you walk back down to the edge of the rocks where he’s left his paddleboard. Renjun kisses you again at the edge of the rocks, and then he paddles back around the bend to the resort.

But Renjun stays.

You see him each day for the rest of the week, and when the week is up and his friends take the boat back to the mainland to fly home, Renjun stays. He meets your family, and he spends his days out in the water with you, swimming with you and teasing you about your tail, making love to you on a paddleboard which you capsize after things get a little too wild. You take him to a moonlit cove on the far side of the island, camp on the beach and stare at the stars.

Renjun falls in love with you, but he falls in love with your island too.

Maybe that’s the true magic of the sirens, you think some nights when you’re curled in your bed beside him. It’s not seducing men into drowning, but seducing men away from their busy lives, tempting them into staying and falling as much in love with you as you are with him.

a/n: I would have had this posted earlier, but I accidentally fell asleep oops. Anyway, here's siren Y/N with Renjun, like I said at the top of the post, this actually turned out a bit softer than I originally intended, but I'm in a constant state of missing Renjun hours since he's been on hiatus forever, so here we are.

Reblogs are deserving of my eternal gratitude, likes are greatly appreciated, and your thoughts and comments are always welcome !

#renjun #renjun smut #nct #nct smut #nct dream #nct dream smut

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doomtrooper77 · 6 months ago

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Meet Gusieppe "Joe Murder" Murderetti. Mob Boss's Mob Boss

It had been a couple of weeks since he had been back to the Dungeon gym. He got his workout in at the gym at work, but this place was made for growing. The Dungeon was mainly a private gym. Most people didn’t know it existed, and those who attended liked it that way. From the outside, it looks like an abandoned warehouse. You might also think so if you just paid attention to the unpainted walls and steel girders above your head. Graffiti on the walls. Look at what the gym contained: a sea of free weights, benches, racks, and machines to lift big. The only cardio was the fighter’s section in the far corner. Full boxing ring, a full-size MMA octagon, mats galore for jujitsu to karate. The other side of the building was for recovery. 3 full Saunas, 3 shower areas, Cold Plunges, 4 huge Japanese heated Soaking tubs, and massage rooms. This place was a lifter's dream. But there were no influencers here. Nobody is setting up their camera for Instagram or TikTok. The place was clean from top to bottom. Members didn’t pay, you had to be invited.

I had decided to bring my college buddy who was in front out of town with me. He was still in pretty good shape even though 10 years later, he spent most of his day behind a desk. I told him I knew a place where we could workout like we used to in college. He didn’t think much of the place until we got inside, and he grinned like a kid in a candy shop. We changed, and I told him no phones were allowed outside the locker room. He objected and said he had a deal he was working on, and he had to stay in touch. I told him it could wait an hour or two. We worked out together for about 30 minutes, and he said he wanted to work arms, and I told him I needed to do some legs. So we split up.

I had my headphones on and was on my 3rd set in the squat rack. When I noticed everyone in the room was looking at something behind me. I racked the weights and turned to see my buddy in fucking Joe Murder's face. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Joe Murderetti, aka Joe Murder, was not a local mob boss; he was THE MOB BOSS. Not the flashy one, he was the Mob Boss the flashy ones were terrified of. He was the one authorities knew had his hands in everything, from drugs to extortion, loan sharking, casinos, financial crimes, and murder for hire. They had come at his 10 different ways, and each time, not only did nothing stick, but people disappeared. Judges, lawyers, prosecutors, politicians, witnesses, and cops. He was called a wizard of the fucking underworld because impossible things happened when he was involved.

Joe Murderetti was also the person who invited me here to this gym. His gym.

My buddy was in good shape for your average guy. He was 6’2 "and 270 lbs. He looked solid and hadn’t lost much of a step since our college days. I was 6’3" and 290 lbs. I was a beast; I had to be when I was on the streets.

Teddy was running his mouth and putting his finger in Joe Murderretti’s face! He was always an arrogant hot head and when he got this way he never paid attention to the world around him. He didn’t see the fucking sea on monsters headed his way. Joe Murder owned this place. Most of the people who came here worked for him—either part of his day-to-day crew or one of 20 others who controlled most of northern Illinois. At least 15 guys were converging on the two. Not one of them was under 300 pounds. Hell, Joe himself tipped the scales at 340-350.

I flung my headphones and started trotting over. I got within 10 feet when I felt a big hand clamp on my shoulder and neck. My training and instincts kicked in, and I grabbed the hand and arm holding me and started to judo-throw them over my shoulder. Under normal circumstances, that person would have been slammed to the ground over my shoulder, and my knee would be in their neck. Instead, the big hand holding my shoulder grabbed my wrist, twisted it, and kicked my legs from under me; when we hit the floor, it was my face slammed into the rubber mat, and a massive knee was in the center of my back. Air rushed out of me, but my training kept me attempting to move. I tried to twist, but not only was the weight on my back too much, but the person holding my arm twisted it further and pulled it up toward my head. The pain was excruciating. I was only able to twist my head to the side and yell out, “Mr. Murderetti, Mr. Murderetti!” Another shadow passed over me, and a big, lugged boot sole stepped on my head and neck, pushing me further into the ground. I stopped struggling.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Teddy and Joe Murder looking over at me on the ground. Teddy's eyes got big, and he started moving in my direction, but two more massive guys grabbed him. Teddy's only training was from football when we played in college. One guy had him wrapped in a chokehold, and the other had slammed his fist into Teddy's gut twice already. Before he could hit him a 3rd time, Joe Murder casually held up his hand, and the chokehold loosened, and the puncher stood at the ready. Joe Murder was still looking at me.

His dark eyes locked on to me, and he said, “David, what does this have to do with you?” His voice was deep, yet he had the south-side Chicago Italian accent. This was the voice of the mobster on the street. I had heard that voice speak in a boardroom executive tone to north side charity dinner smoothness. Today, it was the voice of the man who owned the streets.

“I’m sorry, Teddy didn’t know who you were. We came in for a quick workout, but I wasn’t paying attention. This is my fault.” I said. Joe Murder made another small gesture, and the two monsters holding me down pulled me to my feet. They did not let me go. By this time, there were 10 other massive guys surrounding us. All of them looked as if they wanted a piece of us. Everyone else in the gym disappeared.

Joe walked over to where the two men held us and absently said to them, “Let him go.” Both men let me go but didn’t move away. Joe stepped up to me, and an aura of menace surrounded him. Each of the guys on either side of me could have twisted me into a knot. But something about the man standing in front of me made them seem like puppies in comparison to a tiger.

Joe Murder was 2 inches shorter than me, but damn near a foot wider. He made you feel like the closer he got, the more you shrank into yourself. “Your buddy has a loudmouth and seems interested in business that’s not his,” Joe said. Teddy spoke up, “Dave, tell these knuckle draggers to let me go! Tell them you’re a cop, and they just fucked up big time. You’re gonna drag them in and put them under the fucking jail!” The last sentence cut off as Teddy got another shot to the gut. His legs crumpled under him, but the guy held him up.

Joe Murder’s eye twinkled dangerously, and then he said mockingly, “Under the jail! Yeah Dave, tell me how you’re putting us under the jail.”

Over the next week, I will post a member of Joe Murder's crew daily.

#ai muscle #midjourney #mobster series #enforcer #brute

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alexandralyman · 1 month ago

Text

Clint x Reader fic

I fell in love with Clint after watching Freaky Tales and wrote this little AU following his canon backstory where Reader is his wife, and giving them a happier ending.

AO3 link

Rated M - there's sex but it's not explicit.

Collateral

You meet Clint for the first time when he shows up late one night to collect the collateral your shithead boyfriend promised to a loan shark after blowing his whole paycheck at the track, again.

Turns out, the collateral was you.

He’s a big man with scars on his face and large hands that he shows off when he showily cracks his knuckles. You should be intimidated by him but you’re too busy hurling insults at your boyfriend’s face like the local kids hurl water balloons at strangers who pass through the neighbourhood before giggling and speeding away on their bikes.

“You son of a bitch!”

“You what, you pawned me like a fucking watch?”

“Thought you could pick a winner? You can’t even pick your fucking dirty socks up off the floor, you lazy bum!”

“Fucking piece of shit!”

Clint just stands there while you yell and scream, not saying a word or moving a muscle until your boyfriend finally tells you to shut up and raises a hand like he’s going to hit you. Then he’s as quick as a snake unfurling to strike, pinning your boyfriend to the wall with one of those large hands around his throat before you can even blink. Your cheek faintly stings with the phantom slap, but it’s nothing compared to what Clint is currently doing to him. His eyes bulge and he claws inefficiently at Clint’s wrist while thick fingers squeeze his windpipe until the only sound he can make is a faint wheeze. Clint studies him silently for a moment before he turns dark eyes to you.

“That bike parked out front, is it his?”

His voice is surprisingly soft for someone in his line of work.

“Yeah,” you say, your arms wrapped protectively around your middle. The motorcycle is his pride and joy, his baby.

Your boyfriend’s face is a purple as grape Hubba-Bubba when Clint turns his attention back to him.

“Change of plans, I’m taking the bike instead. Keys?”

“He keeps them in his leather jacket,” you tell him, grabbing your purse and booking it for the door with a few more choice words thrown over your shoulder at the man who’d offered you up so he could bet on a “sure thing trifecta” that turned out to not be such a sure thing after all. Clint makes no move to stop you, he even gives a tiny wave with his free hand with the other still wrapped around your boyfriend’s throat when you take one final look back.

You just miss the bus, seeing it pull away from the curb as you sprint down the sidewalk waving your arms and calling to the driver to wait, please, fucking wait! You hope he sees you giving him the finger in his mirror when he drives off, leaving you to wait for the next one. Thankfully your cigarettes were in your purse, you go through three matches before you finally get one to light and take furious drags that ring the filter fuschia with your lipstick.

Clint rolls up to the bus stop on your now ex-boyfriend’s ex-motorcycle, wearing your ex’s leather jacket over his own plaid shirt,

“Need a lift?” he asks.

You should say no, but the next bus isn’t for another thirty-seven minutes so you grind out what’s left of your cigarette under your heel while imagining it’s your ex’s face and hop on, sliding your arms around his waist. The bike roars to life underneath you and you feel him pat your hand before he takes off into the night.

It’s more reassuring than you expected.

He takes you straight home, no detours, no funny business, and you watch him leave before you go into your apartment. He gives you that little wave again, and this time you return it before he drives off. Once inside you kick off your shoes and make straight for the fridge, taking the phone off the hook as you go so your ex can’t call. You leave the handset dangling by the cord and the dial tone fills the silence while you rummage around for ice cream or alcohol or both.

Fuck. You were all out of Rocky Road.

A while later there was a knock on your door and somehow you just knew. When you open it you see Clint has come back. The bike is nowhere in sight now but he’s still wearing your ex’s leather jacket.

It looks better on him.

Much better.

“Hey,” he says. “Wanted to stop by and make sure that dickhead hasn’t come over to bother you.”

You shake your head. “No. He blew his whole check at the track, he doesn’t even have bus fare left and it’s not like he’s gonna walk his lazy ass all the way over since he seems to have lost his wheels somehow.”

That was the first time you saw Clint smile, the corners of his lips lifting with amusement.

(you find out later that after you left he’d threatened your ex with much worse than the loss of his bike if he came near you again and knocked him out cold, so he knew damn well that he hadn’t “come over”, the sneaky bastard. He gives you that smile again when you learn the truth and you think about being mad about it and making him sleep on the couch, but you settle for sending him to the video store to rent your favorite movie instead.)

“Still,” Clint drawls, hands shoved deep in his pockets and giving you the same look as a stray dog sniffing around for a bone, “maybe I should hang out here for a bit. Just in case.”

“Hang out for a bit” turns into sharing a joint he pulls from the jacket that had also been your ex’s along with the bike (and you) while you sprawl on the rug and play records to drown out the dial tone still coming from the phone. Clint starts out sitting on your couch, before he joins you on the floor to pass the joint back and forth more easily and eventually (inevitably) he winds up naked in your bed.

The sex was better than the drugs. Your ex always bought shit weed though. Clint has faded tattoos on his arms and fresh bruises on his knuckles, he eats you out and then he fucks you from behind with his large hands on your hips and his knees keeping yours spread apart. You expect him to leave immediately afterwards with some bullshit excuse that you’ll pretend to believe, but he lights up two cigarettes from the pack in his discarded jeans instead. One for himself and one for you, lying back against the pillows with an arm behind his head and filling your bedroom with a blue haze that hangs in the air like the question you ask him.

“Did he really put me up as fucking collateral?

You hate the way your voice breaks just a little bit when you say it, anger leaking into sadness as your eyes burn from something other than the cigarette smoke.

There’s a long pause, and then a sigh from beside you. “Yeah. He did. I’m sorry, baby.”

You take a deep drag on the cigarette Clint gave you and blink away the tears. He’s not worth it.

“Asshole.”

A large hand closes around your free one where it lays between you on the mattress and gives it a squeeze.

“Yeah,” Clint agrees.

You didn’t know it then but it was the same for him, only in his case it was his father who traded him for debts he couldn’t pay when he was too young to understand what that meant and by the time he did, it was too late.

************

Clint shows up again the next night, late, knocking at your door with a bag of greasy takeout and really good weed. The sex was still better though. He fucks you on your couch this time, face to face with his jeans around his knees and a dark lock of hair falling on his forehead as he thrusts between your legs. When Channel Six signs off for the night and the Star Spangled Banner starts to play he’s still on top of you, TV turning to the only snow you get in Oakland and his soft breath in your ear while you lay under him and run a hand up and down his sweaty back. He’s heavy, but you don’t mind the weight.

He was the heavy, the muscle, the guy sent by “The Guy” to collect debts and break fingers when they welched on the payments. You don’t mind that either. Everyone has to hustle to survive. Clint never asks you out on a date, never asks you to be his girl, you just are. He keeps coming by, with food and weed and videos from the place on the corner, you toke up and have sex and watch movies with your head resting on his shoulder. Soon he’s dropping you off and picking you up from work in his car so you don’t have to take the bus, keeping a toothbrush in your bathroom next to yours and his favorite beer in your fridge.

You prop your feet up on his dash when he drives you to get late night milkshakes, or to the schlocky double features at the old drive-in just outside the city limits where you give him head in the backseat and ignore the movie. He smiles and slings an arm around your shoulders when you walk down to the video place together, you take cigarettes from his pack and he lights them for you, and the catcallers and the gangbangers in the neighbourhood all steer clear when they see you coming cause no one messes with Clint, and word has spread that you’re Clint’s girl now.

His girl, his baby, he never calls you by name, it’s always “baby” when he knocks on your door with takeout or picks you up from work, when his dick is in your mouth and when you’re arguing over what to rent at the video store.

“Baby, I’m here.”

“Baby, you ready to go?”

“Baby, yes, fuck yes.”

“Baby, no, not fucking Back to School again.”

He’s not really much of a talker though and listens more than he speaks. Unlike previous boyfriends like your asshole ex who got tired of your voice and told you to shut up and be quiet, Clint actually likes it when you go on about movies and music and read articles from the magazines he buys you out loud in the car while he drives. You casually stuff the latest Cosmo into his glove box alongside his gun and kiss him goodbye when he drops you off at work. When he picks you up again after your shift he might have new bruises on his knuckles, a fresh stain on his shirt that you have to wash in cold water when you do his laundry at the Supersuds next to the video store, but he also always has a smile for you.

Clint doesn’t even actually ask you to marry him, doesn’t do the whole “down on one knee” thing, he just drives you all the way to Reno on your day off and stops the car in front of a wedding chapel. It looks like a real church with a steeple and everything, except you’re pretty sure real churches don’t have signs out front offering a bottle of champagne and ten dollars in free slot play with every ceremony.

“What the hell?” you sputter, turning in the passenger seat to look at him. “Clint, you’re not serious.”

He fishes a ring carefully out of his pocket and gives you that smile again, the one that always makes you weak. It’s the one that got him into your apartment in the first place and was definitely responsible for your current predicament.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t make an honest woman of you, baby?”

The doctor had told you three days ago, after you puked every morning for a week straight and thought you just had the flu.

Clint reaches over and places his hand gently on your stomach. You don’t see the bruises on his knuckles, all you see is the man who knocked you up and didn’t run away screaming, who already bought a teddy bear with a big bow tied around the neck.

“Okay,” you nod, your laugh filling the car. “Let’s get hitched then. You know that means you’re stuck with me forever though, right?”

Clint grins. “No baby. That means the both of you are stuck with me forever now.”

He marries you in the little chapel that same day, and trades the champagne you can’t drink now for a 2-for-1 buffet coupon instead.

“You’re eating for two so it’s really a 3-for-1 coupon. Much better deal,” he says with a wink.

**********

One last job.

That’s what he calls it, the guy with the grey hair and pale suit.

The Guy.

He shows up and says he’s got a job for Clint, one last job for him to do and then he gets to walk away, clean slate, all debts paid in full. He smiles but it’s not like Clint’s smile, it’s cold and sharp as a knife when he glances over and adds that he’ll stay and keep you company while Clint is gone.

It’s not an offer.

You’re the insurance policy.

You’re the collateral.

“Oh,” he slyly adds with a pointed glance to your swollen stomach, “and congratulations.”

You both are.

Clint has no choice, he has to leave you there and take the job, with your dog-eared copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting in his glove box as he drives off. You’ve been reading it to him on the way to and from Lamaze class at the hospital. He goes to the corner market to get you Rocky Road ice cream whenever you get a late night craving, rubs your achy feet, and rents your favorite movies without complaint every Saturday night.

You taste something sour in the back of your throat and almost puke right on the guy’s polished shoes.

He tries to make conversation like he didn’t just send the man you love, your husband, the father of your child, out on a job that could get him killed or sent to prison for the rest of his life. This isn’t a standard beat-down, this is something big, something serious, and the sour taste doesn’t go away. It only gets worse. The guy finally gives up with a shrug and a, “suit yourself, sweetheart,” turning the TV on. He laughs uproariously at Cagney & Lacey even though it’s not particularly funny, while you watch the clock on the wall instead, waiting for Clint to come back. Through the news, and Carson, the minutes tick by somehow both too fast and too slow. You rub your stomach, and wait.

He’ll come back.

He has to.

When he finally does he’s got a duffel bag over one shoulder and blood dripping down his face. It fills with relief when he sees you, only to harden again when he looks at the guy.

“You tried to set me up. Take the fucking fall for you,” he spits.

The guy gives him that switchblade of a smile. “Like I said, one last job. It’s just business Clint, you’ve been getting sloppy lately. More of a liability to me than an asset. Probably cause you’ve got your head so far up her cunt now.”

He jerks his chin in your direction while smoothly pulling out a gun. Clint’s gaze darts to you again with sheer panic in his eyes.

“Nothing a little murder-suicide won’t fix. You’re still gonna take the fall.”

The sour taste is flooding your mouth and the baby suddenly kicks, hard. You go all Linda Blair in a blink, projectile vomiting everything in your stomach right at the guy. He flings his arm up to try to avoid the spray and his gun goes flying. Clint dives towards the floor, and a moment later a single shot rings out.

“Baby!”

Clint is at your side, one hand sliding protectively over your belly. His now ex-boss is on the floor, covered in half-digested Rocky Road with his brains splattered against the wall. If you had anything left in you, you’d probably puke again at the sight. The baby kicks again, a smaller one this time. Clint feels it too.

“She’s a little fighter,” he smiles.

“Just like her daddy,” you say.

He grabs the duffel bag on the way out, slinging it over his shoulder and wrapping his other arm around you to guide you to the car. You can see the cash peeking through where the zipper isn’t fully shut, enough to finally get out for good.

You leave Oakland with Clint the next morning, heading east. He packs the essentials in the trunk, including the teddy bear he bought when you first told him you were pregnant, the one with the big pink bow tied around its neck. When he pulls onto the highway you pull What To Expect When You’re Expecting out of the glove box. A receipt from the video store sticks out to serve as a bookmark, you never did return that last movie you rented and you’re going to get one hell of a late fee on your account.

Not that it really matters now.

Clint has one hand on the steering wheel, wedding ring flashing in the sun. The other rests on your stomach.

“You good, Baby?” he asks, rubbing against where his daughter is currently kicking against his hand.

“Yeah,” you say, covering his hand with yours. The bruises on his knuckles will be gone by the time she arrives in a few weeks. “We’re good.”

#my fic #clint flood x reader #clint flood x you #clint flood fic #freaky tales fic

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kremlin · 2 years ago

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An earnest call for your support: Help me determine if there is a gas leak in my house.

for a long time now, I have been reading and hearing about This Guy on the news, and have been reading all the articles and stories about him:

Above: Sam, tenting his weird-ass fucked up fingers like a real Wall Street Guy might do in a movie he saw

Yep, you already know this guy, his name is Sam, I'll be referring to him as Sam, as that is his first name, and not by his initials, which is what I imagine a pod person might do in an attempt to emulate human behaviour. Whatever. You already know him and what he did, I won't waste your time. Listen. Pay attention. This is not a post about this guy or what he did. That shit is boring as fuck. This is a post about a potential gas leak in my house. We'll get to that in just a bit. Remember.

I've read all the articles and all the op-eds and everything. About Sam. Let us explore the entire spectrum of media coverage of Sam and Sam's Big Ass Problem, starting from the bottom, with the worm-food-tier jackasses: What do people like Jim Cramer and Shark Tank Guy have to say about him?

Above: CNN's "Mad Money" Jim Cramer also doing a weird hand gesture while he tells your alcoholic cable-news-addicted uncle to put his money in some dumbass shit

Above: I think this is the Shark Tank guy? I don't remember his name. Could have sworn his suit had dollar signs and not question marks (?)

I'll summarize their conclusions: "Sam is a boy genius who is super duper smart and can move objects with his massive brain due to knowing about Tech, FinDom FinTech, and computer money, specifically Money Coding. Unfortunately Sam committed massive fraud and will get his ass fucked in federal court".

Moving on from the worm-food-tier to the mediocre-tier: The totally nameless basic bitch journalists at the New York Times or Bloomberg. What do these assholes have to say?

Above: Jim Fuckface, associate financial correspondent for Bloomberg. Jim enjoys winding down on a Friday afternoon by sipping a Bud Lite Lime and wearing his baseball cap backwards, which bears the logo of his local professional sports team.

Above: Kate Fuckface, columnist at the New York Times. Kate enjoys spending her time chatting and interacting with her friends on Social Media Platforms like Facebook and Instagram, as well as purchasing items on Etsy

I'll summarize their conclusions: "Displaying the characteristic awkwardness of incredible technical and financial genius, it was clear to me during our interview that Sam's depth of knowledge truly knew no bounds. Unfortunately Sam committed massive fraud and will get his ass fucked in federal court."

Finally moving on to the people that might actually have a clue about what they're talking about. Sam Levine and Michael Lewis:

Above: Matt Levine, author of a comedy email newsletter named Money Stuff that is 95% financial information by weight and somehow still usually funny as fuck.

Above: Michael Lewis, author of a bunch of really good books you haven't read that were made into pretty decent movies you have seen: Moneyball and The Big Short.

I'll summarize their conclusions: "Sam sure is a smart kid and seems to know a whole lot about economics and this digital currency, and I mean a whole lot, and even more about business, accounting, and finance. Bright kid! Unfortunately Sam committed massive fraud and will get his ass fucked in federal court."

A pretty goddamn clear consensus across the board on both counts.

I listened to the interviews the entire spectrum of people listed above conducted with him -- the ones during which they unanimously concluded how smart he is. I listened to many hours of ad-hoc, unscripted Twitter Space calls he participated in, where he fielded questions about his fraud and his business with complete strangers. I listened to them very carefully. And here is my problem! I came to a different conclusion!

Sam is a fucking moron. I am not talking about solely his intellect, or solely his decision-making abilities, or any specific criteria. I am talking about all of them.

There are two possibilities:

(A) I am correct and, somehow, literally everyone else is incorrect, most of whom know vastly more about these topics than I do

(B) There is a fucking gas leak in my house and I have completely lost all cognitive abilities, suddenly and unwittingly, and exist in a cartoon reality inside my skull that would allow me to reach such a wildly different conclusion from the same evidence.

The likelihood of (A) being correct is very nearly 0%. I mean, come on. I am not fucking around when I tell you how troubling this is for me. I wrote earlier that this isn't a post about Sam or his bullshit. This is a post asking for your help in determining whether I have lost my god damn marbles.

I'll give Sam one thing -- he has some nominal ability to bullshit. If he's writing a Tweet, or making a short statement, he can finesse his words that, on some level, mask how much of a dimwit he is. He absolutely can't do that through about six hours of unscripted interviews. Listen to that shit. Listen.

I am going to go check all the joints in the gas lines in my house as well as the ports on my stove and heater. I'll come back and write a follow-up post on outlining exactly why I think homeboy is an idiot. While I do that, please, go listen to the interviews and tell me what you think.

#words

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mmkin · 8 months ago

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The Siren's Shark (Fury of the fishman race)

New chapter of the Siren's Shark now up on AO3, the chapter title is pretty self-explanatory. Content warning - violence, a lot of it.

It's also under the cut and picture I did of Arlong having a party and chilling with Yolande and his bros. 15-20 min doodle that was a hecking lot of fun to do. Initially it just started out with the couple but they looked so happy I wanted to draw more fishmen.

XIII

o0o0o0o

Yolande watched the fires on the island, explosions going off one after the other, some near the shore, others a bit further inland. With the distraction from the first wave of explosives, the fishmen could move forward and plant the second round that would breach the wall that guarded the nicest estates on the island… and its most prized and powerful slaves.

“Maybe you need a drink, eh?” she heard Caten say from behind her. She felt an arm wrap around her own and was tugged away from the railing. For a couple of moments, she tried to resist, but Caten had more fishman strength than her. “It’ll do you no good to just stand there and watch. Come have a drink with us, misery loves company.”

The others were in the mess hall, including Rekiin. He’d wanted to go with the pirates, insisting that he was strong from Kuroobi’s classes. It was hard to not admire the boy’s pluck, and he’d pouted as the others left him behind. But such a pout did not work on the mighty Captain Arlong or even the more pliable Hatchan. The boy was now at one of the tables, playing a game of Go with Rosa while a couple of the others watched, relaxing and enjoying themselves.

A cup of rum was pressed into her hand, and Yolande looked down. Despite her anxiety, she was hesitant to drink because what if something happened on the island and she had to respond to it? Wouldn’t it absolutely suck if the invasion failed and she and the remaining fishmen had to fight or run for it? She couldn’t bear the thought of Arlong and the others enslaved.

No, no, no. You all came up with a good plan, she told herself. She had provided the firepower. The fishmen would provide strength and rage. The few humans not on Arlong's shit list helped to provide intelligence that could be used for stealth and surprise. And there were a few high-value hostages in the brig if needed.

Fisher Tiger had pulled it off in a larger city with fewer men. So Arlong could, damnit. Her fingers squeezed around the glass. Whatever had happened in Arlong Park, it seemed like Arlong and his men had learned from it. They can do it, they will do it, she kept trying to tell herself.

“Hey, take a deep breath. Sit down.” Caten squeezed her arm. The explosions had died for some time, and she could almost imagine it in her mind’s eye with the help of the map that Koji and Hazel had drawn for them. They were no cartographers but as lifetime residents of the island they had been able to give out a good lay of the land, pointing out the walls and divisions of the city.

“How about I tell a story?” Caten asked. “I think you’d like this one.”

“I’d welcome the distraction,” Yolande replied with all sincerity.

“So you remember before I was saying how misery loves company? There’s this story my grandmother would tell me when I was a kid. I always thought it was pretty clever. So here we go…” She took a long swig of her rum before several of the other fishmen settled nearby.

“There was this woman called Misery. She was old and poor and hardworking. Her one joy in life was a tree she had that bore succulent fruit, the likes of which were rare under the water or on land. She did not have much else in her life so every year, she looked forward to enjoying that fruit, but unfortunately, as you will expect, there are those determined to take joy from others. The local boys enjoyed climbing the tree and taking the fruit, and the poor woman was too old and feeble to climb the tree herself. This left her quite miserable and helpless as the boys would break through her fence and steal the fruit. She cried, she pleaded, she begged, but they thumbed their noses at her and their parents would simply tell her that boys will be boys…”

“These little shits,” Yolande muttered before she sipped her rum. Caten grinned.

“You’ll love what happens to them! ...This year, the same thing happened. She tried to be vigilant, but she was old and tired, and the boys plucked the fruit from her tree and left just one behind. It was better than nothing, she told herself, and took it into the house with her. Not long after, a stranger came to her house and asked if he might have shelter for the night. Misery was not without a heart, so she allowed the weary traveler a spot next to her hearth and shared the fruit with him. He was a cheerful fellow, and though she did not have much to offer, she was a gracious host and laughed at his stories. In the morning, he said that he appreciated her kindness and that she could have one wish granted.

Misery thought that he was jesting with her, and remembering the fruit, she asked that anyone who climbed up the tree would not be able to come back down without her leave. The traveler tipped his hat at her and left.

A year passed, and she had all but forgotten that curious offer. And the boys were back, bigger and more brash, and when she came out to yell at them, they laughed at her as they scooped the fruit into their pockets. Brokenhearted, she went into the house, hearing them laughing at her.

However, soon enough the laughter turned to exclamations of surprise, confusion, and cursing. She went back outside to see the boys perched on the branches, unable to hoist themselves down. If they tried to jump, they were stuck fast to the tree. They cried, begged, and swore, and Misery realized that her wish had indeed been granted.

Oh boys, will you return my fruit to me then, and leave me be? She asked. They swore at her, throwing fruit at her. She gathered the fruit in a basket and went back inside, ignoring their cries, which eventually died down and she finally had her sleep, after having a good meal.

The next morning, she came back outside. As one might expect, the lads had quite a fitful night. Not one wink of sleep, and quite a few bruises and scratches they had in trying to get out of the tree.

Now, are you boys going to behave? She asked, and they offered no argument this time. Then you will mend my fence, bring me roast meat and a pot of rice every week, and promise to never touch this tree or its fruit again unless I give you leave.

To this, the boys could only agree, and for years after that, Misery was well-fed and left alone. She would share her fruit with travelers and listen to their stories, enjoying their company. Eventually, Death came from her. And as with anyone else, she received Death with cordiality.

I have no fruit in the pantry to serve you right now, so would you mind going up the tree and getting some for me? I'll make us a nice meal and then we'll be on our merry way, Misery said. Glad to have someone receiving him so kindly, Death agreed.”

Yolande chuckled softly. Nothing like a story about someone outsmarting their adversary.

“Death got stuck in the tree, and Misery decided to leave him there, so no one could die. The pharmacist, priest, doctor, and undertaker all came to her to complain, telling her that business was bad because no one was afraid of dying anymore. Misery simply laughed and said they were welcome to join Death in the tree.

However, one day, she was visited by a friend of hers, even older than she was. The friend told her that she was ready to move on. She'd lost her husband, all of her children, and even some of her grandchildren. Her arthritis and other aches only got worse and worse. She would welcome Death, and so would many others. These fatally wounded on the battlefield, or gravely ill with no hopes of reversing their health. Those who were tired of life and felt they'd lived their natural course, and those who sought an escape from pain. Death was needed in this world, he was not evil but was a means to an end of pain and suffering.

The pleas of men in power did not move her, but this supplication from a frail old woman appealed to her, and she consented to let Death out of the tree… but only if Death would not claim her.

Very well then, Death said. All became right in the world… but Misery still loves company and is still out there, ready to welcome it.”

Well, that certainly provided a useful distraction. “Thanks, I really needed that,” Yolande said with a chuckle as she took another swig of her drink and enjoying the buzz before another explosion sounded through the air.

“And you made these?” Caten asked with a smirk, gesturing in the direction of the island.

“But someone else had to drag them to the island, find the proper locations, and light them,” she replied modestly. “Ishidai and Mido among others are doing the real work out there, liberating our brothers and sisters.”

“And we’re all proud of them,” Kaneshiro said. The injury he’d gotten from Spike made it difficult for him to breathe at times, particularly after a run or a long swim, so he was left behind as the senior pirate of the ship until the others came back.

“To our brothers and sisters. To our nakama and the proud and noble fishman race,” Erhu said as he raised his cup. The others echoed similar sentiments, and Yolande was right there with them, raising her cup as the Arlong Pirates raided Marzu Island.

o0o0o0o

This Devil Fruit user had the ability to shoot out what looked like very thick webbing, almost like a spider, from their hands, and as fishmen and slaves alike ran around in the chaos, the dark-haired woman encased several of them.

Chew was careful to remain out of her sight as he unscrewed his canteen, several balls in his other hand as he took a mouthful of water.

He slid one of the balls past his lips, positioning it on his tongue as he’d practiced before aiming it at the woman’s neck, the nape bare above the collar of her uniform, which looked a lot like a business suit. The thin clay casing of the ball splintered on impact, smearing a greaselike substance onto her neck. As she instinctively reached up to brush it off, the substance spread on her neck and onto her fingers. It took another couple of moments, but the webbing she’d been making with her free hand disintegrated. Seastone worked against a Devil Fruit user with skin contact, and it looked like seastone filings in the gel Yolande had made worked about as well.

Chew grinned in triumph as two of his nakama quickly closed in on the woman, restraining her effectively. The human slaves stared at him before a younger woman stepped forward, wearing a collar and dressed in what appeared to be the uniform of a domestic worker.

“Are you here to free us like Fisher Tiger did in Marijoa?”

Chew was startled to hear that from a stranger’s mouth, way out here in Marzu, which was more than halfway across the South Blue from Marijoa.

“Yes,” he replied automatically, thinking of his enslaved brethren, and then realized that the human would hear his answer as being inclusive of the humans here, too.

Well, Fisher Tiger had not been picky about the slaves of Marijoa, had he? “Yes,” he repeated more firmly. The woman regarded him with a brilliant smile. She turned to the slaves near her.

“The day has come! Fuck yeah!”

o0o0o0o

Yurie stared down at the children that surrounded her, expecting her to do something to comfort them. The explosions had started less than an hour ago, rousing them out of their sleep. Her heart thudded in her chest as she heard more explosions and shouting. Was it really happening? She’d heard whispers of Fisher Tiger from a fishman who’d been brought here after Fisher Tiger freed the slaves of Marijoa. Ever since she heard his story, she’d prayed for Fisher Tiger to find this place and free its slaves.

She’d been kidnapped half a lifetime ago, her father and his small crew set upon by Captain Aiucbi and his crew. They’d been a merchant ship, her father an ex-pirate but retired from the lifestyle and plying his trade around several islands near the Grand Line, making a modestly prosperous life for himself, his daughter, and his crew. Her fishman mother had died when she was young, but her human father had more than made up for it, taking her across the seas, showing her various things, and encouraging her to embrace her fishman heritage.

She missed him so much that sometimes she wanted to cry. Her father had been murdered by Captain Aiuchi, and she was kidnapped and enslaved. Fourteen long years she'd been on this island. Not that she didn't attempt escape, but the humans were used to slaves trying that, so they had various measures for it, including keeping their more exotic slaves behind the wall that separated the upper echelons of Marzu Island from the commoners, and applying harsher practices when they deemed necessary.

So she’d gotten with the program – or acted like it, and now she enjoyed a relatively comfortable position as the personal maid and nanny to the Mukachin household. The Mukachins would be surprised to know the depths of the hatred that boiled under her placid exterior as she went about her chores, listening to the orders of the adults and the screeches of the children.

There was an explosion that sounded a lot nearer than the previous one, and she jumped, spinning around and looking through the window. The wall had been breached. Oh fuck, yes. Was it really happening? Her hands were shaking, and she brushed them against the smock she was wearing. The collar around her neck felt heavy all of a sudden as if reminding her of what had been done to her.

Her father had often said that sometimes when an opportunity arose, one needed to wait a bit to assess it. But on the other hand, he said, sometimes you just have to grab it and run with it.

So she did, shoving the Mukachin children aside, ignoring the cries of indignation and protest as she pried the youngest child’s fingers from her skirt and tore out of the room.

The doors were locked, but she climbed out of a window and bolted across the grass, seeing the crumbled gap in the wall several estates down, laughing wildly when she saw several men advance down the street, all of them fishmen. A couple of guards tried to stop them, but the fishmen flung them aside like toys.

She skidded to a halt several meters away, panting. The fishmen regarded her with caution at first before they noticed the collar on her neck and the gold-green coloring of her skin.

“Take, you have the key,” a tall and fat pink fishman with bright green fins said. The pale-skinned fishman beckoned her forward. She needed no further invitation and took a shuddering breath as she felt the collar side from her neck.

“Oh yes, fuck yes. Thank you so much!”

“Glad to be of service, honey,” Take said with a grin. “You’re free to go down to the water, but we could use your help.”

“I’ve been here for years. I know where many of the other slaves are. I’m ready to kick ass!”

This time, another fishman answered her. He was ruddy-skinned, with a dark green shirt that had roses on it. He’s cute, Yurie thought to herself, and her heart fluttered as the salmon fishman smiled at her. “I bet you are, you certainly look like you’re roaring for it. Well, come on and let’s do just that. I’m Shioyaki, by the way.”

There were nearly two dozen estates within the wall, resided by the upper caste of the island. She'd never seen Marijoa, but Toma and the other fishmen who'd spent time as slaves there would recognize the architecture of the Holy City, albeit on a smaller scale. With the observation skills her father had helped her hone, she had learned much about her new home. She listened, she observed, and she held onto every bit of information she could glean about this island, the residents, and the fucked-up system that was enforced upon the people unfortunate enough to be poor and indebted or captured by the Mukachins and their ilk.

Fishmen were notably stronger compared to humans, so the masters had experience in compensating for that with various measures, but Arlong’s fishmen came well-prepared, as Yurie was quick to notice.

And there were plenty enough human slaves who were willing to throw their lot in with these invading fishmen. Their welcome was lauded, unlike on the Conomi Islands. Yurie had befriended some of them, so when they saw what she was doing, they were quick to offer whatever aid they could render. Many of the free but poor humans stepped aside when fishmen came for the masters. The island had worked under its system for generations, and that could only be maintained by strict control, but it collapsed… or rather blew up, causing an effect that went beyond fire and smoke.

o0o0o0o

The fishmen left behind on the White Mermaid had taken turns telling stories or jokes, making sure to keep the conversation upbeat so there was a good amount of laughter shared among the fishmen. Needing some fresh air, Yolande stepped outside with her cup, staring at the distance, seeing the glow of fires, flame, and moonlight reflected in the plumes of smoke that rose upward. It'd been several hours since Arlong and his team set out.

No fishmen had returned to the ship, and no distress signal had been sent up. So far, so good, Yolande sighed. Fingers crossed that it’d remain that way – she didn’t want to think about what a failure would mean for Arlong’s crew as well as the slaves on the island.

Who would have thought she’d be rooting for pirates to be successful in a takeover of an island? With a sigh, she sat on the deck, leaning against the railing as she pressed her forehead against the white-painted wood.

“I kinda wish I could see them in action,” she heard Caten say. She smirked dryly to herself at that. Sure, she’d watched some of Kuroobi’s drills, or when the fishmen would spar with one another, but the heat of actual combat was another matter. How well she remembered the capture of the White Mermaid, Arlong’s crew pitted against Aiuchi’s crew in a battle that would help to determine the ultimate fate of Marzu Island.

“There’s something about seeing men in action, huh?” Yolande asked dryly.

“And why not?” Caten asked with a smirk. “I mean, it’s not just seeing them in action, it’s also knowing how strong they are, or how capable they are of fighting because it means they can protect you…”

“Especially when there’s three of them?” Yolande asked, but there was no sarcasm or bite in her tone. Caten regarded her with a knowing smile and winked. “I’m curious and I’ve been dying to ask, but I’m afraid of sounding rude or nosey…” she admitted as she looked at the fishwoman.

“How do I juggle the attentions of three fishmen?” Caten asked. “Easy. They know that if there’s any fighting, it’d be over,” Caten said.

“… And they were okay with it?” Yolande asked. She couldn’t imagine any of the men she’d known personally to be willing to enter such an arrangement.

Caten shrugged. “If they were not okay with it, it means they don’t get any of this…” She gestured to herself, “and they also don’t get to enjoy the things I do. It’s their choice.”

Yolande stared off thoughtfully for several moments. She knew what the priests and nuns of Nitirb Island would have thought. Depraved, sinful fornicators. No better than animals if you do not honor the sacred bonds of marriage… or celibacy. After all, as they were eager to point out, many of the children at the orphanage were bastards, and even if a girl was lucky enough to avoid such a consequence, what man wanted to marry an unclean woman?

She remembered wondering why she should care about virtue so much because on the other hand, who wanted to marry an orphan? Well, Yolande did end up getting married… more than once. Many illusions had been shattered. Yolande snapped herself out of her musings. That was in the past, she’d learned from experience how beliefs could undergo fundamental shifts.

Caten looked happy, and so did her partners. They operated on mutual respect for her and one another. The young fishwoman had a difficult life from what she'd shared with Yolande, and she was taking whatever joy was offered to her. How could anyone begrudge her that? If anyone did, that said more of the would-be judges than Caten or her lovers.

Yolande finally smiled before she finished her drink. “Good times, good times.”

“If you ever need tips, just let me know,” the catfishwoman said with a merry grin. This sent Yolande into a fit of giggles.

“I’m a widow taking advice from a woman the same age as my stepdaughter…” Oh gods, how good it felt to laugh.

“I’m sure you have some wisdom to offer, too,” Caten chuckled. “Having someone like Arlong to share your bed with… you’re the envy of the girls and a few of the guys.”

Yolande felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “That bastard,” she huffed, recalling the sounds they’d made the last time they’d fucked. Arlong had gotten quite vocal, though she suspected that was in part because he was so keyed up about the imminent takeover of Marzu Island.

But honestly, he could come up with any excuse he wanted for it, and see what sorts of noises he could draw from her.

"He is an inspiration to the crew!" Caten replied cheerfully. There were a few titters and cheers over that, and Yolande buried her face in her hands as another drink was poured for her. "To our mighty Captain Arlong and his pirates!" Caten raised her cup in the air and the others joined her before they looked over to the island. "To the glory and the safety of the fishman race! May those who oppress us be crushed under our heel!"

It seemed like Caten was leaning closer and closer to officially joining the crew, Yolande thought with a small smile. Good on her, she thought to herself.

o0o0o0o

Arlong had engaged in plenty enough battles at sea while being part of the Sun Pirates, and even after taking over the Conomi Islands against an occasional pirate or Marine ship. He’d gone up against swords, guns, cannonballs, and Devil Fruit users.

Even as he swung his sword, or used water as a projectile, he remained vigilant of his surroundings – it would do him no good to be picked off by a sniper or otherwise. Marzu had a decent security force, but Arlong and his men had the advantage due to the combination of factors they'd carefully planned.

Arlong looked up with a grin as he heard an explosion and looked up to see fire shooting up as part of the wall that surrounded the upper part of the island collapsed. He wondered if this was how Fisher Tiger had felt when he breached the walls of Marijoa. As he looked at the way the wall crumbled down to create a gap amidst the flames, he saw a flash of steel and reacted just in time to grab the blade of the guard's sword between his teeth. He glared down at the armed man, clenching his jaw and shattering the man's sword before grabbing him by the neck and hurling him at the man who was trying to attack him from behind.

He let out a roar of challenge, encouragement, and triumph. There were guards to challenge him, yes, but none of those who challenged his advance wore a collar. He saw slaves fleeing both fire and guards and grinned as he quickly poured himself a handful of water from his canteen.

He might as well have hit the guards with bullets of steel, as he pelted them by flicking his hand. He moved on, saying nothing to the slaves as he made his way to the wall.

The next couple of hours passed in a flurry of adrenaline, blood, rage, and fire. He maintained enough presence of mind to not lash out at the human slaves, but he did not hesitate to mow down anyone who tried to attack him.

The son of Omald and Elania Mukachin was the Mayor of this island, although he might as well have been called prince, such was the life he enjoyed and the power his family held in Marzu. He was well-defended, but between several seasoned fishmen with Arlong and Kuroobi taking the lead, they were able to overcome the guards.

However, when Arlong towered over Nald – who bore a more than passing resemblance to his mother – some sixth sense told him to remain on alert even though all the guards had been subdued. He braced himself, senses tingling as he stared up at the heavyset man in his lavish robes.

He felt it before it could hit him with full force, and he gritted his teeth as he resisted Nald’s Conqueror Haki. It pressed against his consciousness, demanding him to submit.

Never. He carried the rage of the fishman race and felt it suffuse him as he thought of the brothers and sisters born before him, condemned to misery under human rule and ownership. He thought of his pain and the pain he'd witnessed of his brothers and sisters. And if he did not succeed here, future generations would suffer. He poured his hate and rage into his will.

He squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest as he leaned his head, pushing against Nald's will with his own before he swung his arm, the sword slicing through Nald's upper arm and causing the man to lose his focus. Arlong almost stumbled at the sudden lack of resistance and managed to right himself, squeezing the handle of his sword as he noticed the blood dripping from it.

Arlong panted slowly as he stared at the Mayor who was now screaming and clutching what remained of his arm.

o0o0o0o

The story Caten recounts for her friends is an adaptation of Tia Miseria, a Latin American tale. It’s one of my personal favorites :)

As always, feedback is very much welcome, appreciated, and nourishing for this author.

#writing #one piece #arlong #fanfiction #villain gets the girl #arlong pirates #fanart #arlong the saw #chew #hatchan #fishmen

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dals-works · 3 months ago

Text

Legend of the Golden Angel

Chapter 1

Ao3 Version

Masterpost

The five kingdoms of Ninjago, The Flaming Peaks Islands, The Keepers Isle, Shintaro, Arendelle, and Ouroboros, have lived in peace for many hundreds of years.

But with the Overlord in possession of the God of Destruction, that peace will only be held with the help of the prophesied Golden Angel...

who happens to be a teen with no interest in saving the world.

An old man with a long, flowing white beard, a warm, sun-kissed brown complexion, and strangely intricate vitiligo swirls and spots on his face stepped off a boat.

"100!" a man called out as he gave him a bracelet with the number on it, "The rest of you will have to wait!" There was a chorus of disappointed sighs and groans that resonated from the people still aboard the ship. The old man chuckled as he read the sign hanging from a pole on the dock.

"Welcome to Ignacia, The Flaming Peaks Islands!"

His gaze reached up to the smoking mountain top in the distance. The scent of sea food and palm trees wafted his way as he walked through the market place were local merchants announced their wares with great pride. He dearly wished to stop when he spotted a booth selling octopus kebabs, but knew he didn't have time. His path was set towards the palace that sat about half way up the volcano.

~~~~~~~~~

Nya nearly stumbled down the stairs leading to the forge, her shark-like tail grazing the walls with every step. It was so dark, how did Kai see where he was going? As she descended on the last step, a rush of sensation hit her in the face. Hot air blew her hair around her face, and a rhythmic bang, bang, bang made her want to cover her ears. Nya felt like her gills were going to dry out. How did Kai stand it down here?

She saw him in the far corner of the forge, bent over whatever he was working on. Sweat ran down the side of his face, and the orange-red glow of the fires made the scar on his right eye stand out. She approached him.

"Kai?" she asked tentatively. He wasn't always in a good mood when he came down here. When he glanced at her she could tell he was in a foul one today.

"What?" he replied sharply. He turned towards her and knocked over a rack of weapons with his shark-like tail. "Argh," he grunted as he bent over to pick them up. Nya wet a clean cloth in the bucket of water that sat in the corner.

"It's so hot down here. You need to be more careful, you're gonna dry out your gills one of these days," she chided as she wrapped the cloth around his neck. Kai huffed as he finished picking up the weapons and sat down on his stool.

Nya picked up the sword he had been working on. It was a spiral, like turtle nests in the sand. She chuckled. "Looks like you were too hasty again."

Kai's frustrated expression softened into a small smile. "You're probably right." He wiped his hands on a cloth that was just as sooty as they were, doing next to nothing to remove the grime of the forge. "What did you want?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving for the Diplomat's Meeting in the Isles," she explained, "And there's an old man up in the courtyard who wants to speak with you. Krux keeps giving him the evil eye."

"I'll go talk to him," he put the bent sword away and started heading towards the stairs, "Let's go, sis."

~~~~~~~~~

As Kai rounded the corner into the courtyard, the lovely scent of na'u and pikake greeting his sense. The gardens we're all lush and full of life at this time of year.

It wasn't hard to spot the old man Nya had mentioned. He was short, sure, but it was hard to miss his long, white beard, conical kasa, and long robes. He stood like someone who knew he was important, but his kind eyes threw off any feeling of inferiority one might have felt in his presence.

Nya was right, Krux was standing at the other end of the courtyard, giving the little old man the evil eye. Kai approached him.

"Hello. Forgive my appearance, I've just come up from the forge," Kai greeted the old man as he tried to wipe some of the soot from his apron, "I understand you wanted to speak with me?"

"Greetings, young Prince Kai. It is an honor to meet you," the man bowed politely, "I am Wu, and I have much to discuss with you and your sister if you have time." Nya came up to them from the doorway where she had been standing when he mentioned her.

"I have to leave for a diplomatic meeting soon," she explained, "but I have about an hour before I need to be at the dock." She looked at Kai. This man was someone important, Kai could tell. He supposed whatever Wu needed to say could be discussed over tea.

"Follow me," Kai said.

~~~~~~~~~

A servant poured some tea into each of their cups, and Wu took a long sip of his. Kai had cleaned up a bit, his face was no longer smudged, and he had changed into his apricot colored robe with the red and gold embellishments. His benkan sat proudly upon his slicked back hair.

"So, Wu, what did you want to talk about?" Nya asked as she took a sip of her tea. She was dressed in a loose light blue kimono well suited for the summer sun. Her straight, jet black hair fell nearly to her waist.

"I run a… self-discovery retreat of sorts. For future world leaders and elemental masters," he explained, "I was wondering if Prince Kai would like to attend, seeing as his 25th birthday is coming up… next month, is it?" Kai and Nya glanced at each other. A self-discovery retreat? It sounded strange, and they hadn't heard anything about it. Kai was about to decline his offer when he was interrupted. "Your parents attended."

This stopped Kai in his tracks. Their parents had attended this retreat? That changed things…. It seemed like only a few years ago his parents had gone missing. Krux insisted that they had died in the shipwreck, but his mom was a Merlopian, she couldn't drown, and Krux hadn't seen the letter his dad had left him, asking him to watch over Nya.

"Allow me to discuss this offer with my sister," Kai said as he stood from his seat and Nya followed suit. He led Nya out of earshot of Wu.

"Do you think this is a good idea, Kai?" Nya asked him in a hushed voice, "This guy shows up out of nowhere asking you to come with him, and tells us he knew our parents? Seems suspicious to me…"

"You're right… but if he has answers about Mom and Dad…" he looked back at Wu, who smiled and waved before taking another sip of his tea. Nya studied Kai for a moment, and he could see the second she decided he was going to this, with or without her approval.

"Fine. But I'm coming with you."

"You can't. You have that Diplomat's Meeting you have to attend," Kai shook his head. Nya sighed.

"You're right... then I'll just meet you there afterwards." Now it was Kai's turn to see that Nya wasn't going to change her mind. They nodded in agreement and walked back to where Wu was still sitting.

"Have you come to a decision?" Wu asked as he rose from his seat.

"I will come with you, and Nya will join us after her meeting," Kai explained as Nya nodded.

"Wonderful! I will be waiting at the dock tomorrow morning at 7 o'clock. I am so glad you have decided to attend," with that, Wu left the siblings.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Kai..." Nya sighed.

#ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #lego ninjago #ninjago kai #ninjago nya #ninjago wu #sensei wu #master wu #kai smith #nya smith #the royals au

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encyclopika · 5 months ago

Note

Hello! I found your blog thanks to Goombanna's video and noticed you are an actual honest to goodness marine biologist in your bio. As someone who is interested in the field, would you mind telling me about your journey becoming a marine biologist? What steps you had to take along the way, what challenges you had to overcome, and where you are now with your career. Would you recommend it to someone who is interested in the current climate? Are there caveats or dangers to be aware of?

Hello! I'm so happy you came to follow me after Goombanna made her fun video. I'm always so excited to talk to people are into marine bio and want to learn!

So, yes, I'm a marine biologist - I currently work at a non-profit doing research and outreach about seafood and the fishing industry. It's very people-centered, and our research spans a lot of topics and facets of fishing and conservation and fishery management. I do get to go out to sea, but a lot of my job is reading and writing, believe it or not! I've done a full break down of advice I'd given two other budding marine biologists here. And also some real "benefits to being a marine biologist" here lol. So that should cover at least some of the info you want! But, let me go through your questions best I can anyway: As someone who is interested in the field, would you mind telling me about your journey becoming a marine biologist? What steps you had to take along the way, what challenges you had to overcome, and where you are now with your career.

I don't mind at all. TL:DR - there are no "steps". Sorry. Being 100% honest - I threw shit at the wall until something stuck and I didn't give up doing that until it did. Anyway... I've always been into marine bio - my favorite animals have been sharks since forever (and before that, my sister and I loved Free Willy, so Orcas, too). And my parents encouraged it because my mom is nuts about animals, too (although she likes to think she's Snow White and feeds anything that breathes, but I digress). So they and my grandparents got me the books and took me to aquariums and stuff. In Highschool, I did what I thought made sense - I took as many electives as I could in marine-bio adjacent topics and bio and science in general, like Chemistry. I didn't have anyone who could tell me "the way", so I like, stumbled around a lot?

When I went to college, I majored in Marine Vertebrate Biology because my goal was to be a researcher for sharks (I also minored in Environmental Studies, which was a good call, because I *really* understand climate now.) (Take climate classes - the ocean and atmosphere are entwined and you will have galaxy brains.) But as I got deeper into it, I started expanding my focus to all fish and marine invertebrates, like crabs and lobsters. I started thinking Fisheries was where I should be... If you wanna see my career journey (that doesn't include working in a grocery store for the majority of college and a Walgreens after I got my Master's, because there's nothing like having to work retail and get shit on by assholes when you have a high-level science degree loooooooooooooooool), it went like this:

A neurobio lab at my university - I was the official fish feeder and I took care of the zebrafish they did genetic and neuro experiments with. It wasn't anything bad - they looked at them under the microscope and followed gene expression. It was a nice gig. I fed the fish - someone needed to do it!

Volunteered with another, more marine-focused lab, and I helped the grad students with various things and also went with them on a mini trawl survey every two weeks. It was fun, but one of the grad students hated me...good thing I didn't really work with her.

My Local Aquarium - I learned how to present my knowledge in front of people. I went from stage frightened baby to a public speaker at this job and I couldn't be more thankful. I taught people on a boat and in the aquarium itself. I got to speak on the microphone and share random facts about almost anything I wanted.

Lab TA at my University because I got a very good grade in my Chordate Zoology course and I loooooved it.

Education Farm - like with goats and cows and I learned how to drive a tractor lmao...it was meant to get my foot in the door with this organization, which, funnily enough, is the same exact org I work for now (just a different department), but it didn't work out that way. I said fuck this and left.

National Estuary Program Intern - my second attempt to work with the org I work with now. Yes, it is so fucking fuuuuuunnnnyyyy.

I think around here I started my scientific illustration business...

And then for my Master's, I took an Internship with NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration) drawing larval lionfish for a scientific paper. Here are some of the extra babies I did before I had to leave.

Trout Hatchery - which was more education and outreach, but it ended up focusing more on reptiles and amphibians than I expected it to. I only did this for a few months. But I learned how to catch and hold frogs with my hands lol so that's a skill I have now!

Then I started work for a heritage organization that focused on natural and human history in our local areas and I still work with them today! I've done their kids camps and I educate on the boat and I'm often asked for marine consultation and illustrations. I love my supervisor here to DEATH. She is so great.

Then I became a fisheries observer with the NEFOP (Northeast Fisheries Observer Program) which was entirely going out to sea with commercial fishermen and doing science with the catch. I finally got to see and touch real, big, wild sharks, but the job also paid like shit and the fishermen hate observers. This job is not for the weak. I was also trained to be a Protected Species Observer, so I really could have went in a totally different direction focusing on marine mammals. Anyway, I did this for 3 years until COVID hit (which you might pick up on in the Fish Explained Series lol).

During COVID, I quit being an observer and started working in a town shellfish hatchery that raised shellfish (oysters, scallops, and clams) for conservation seeding. I grew and maintained the algae to feed the...baby shellfish...and...omfg I was just feeding animals again! Full circle! LMAOOOOO OK but no, I also did outdoor work with the dudes and it was very sciencey and chemistry-based. I worked with beakers and flasks and felt very *scientist*. You're allowed to be a dork in this field.

And finally, after all that, I landed in this position I'm in now. Because of all of my past experiences educating, doing outreach, being familiar with local fish and fisheries, literally going out to sea on the fishermen's boats, and having my Master's degree, and I shit you not, *writing in my free time*, yes the fanfiction and the Fish Explained Posts counted (I told them everything, I was so jaded from applying to jobs and this would be my 3rd attempt trying to work for this org LMAO) I was hired almost instantly. And now I'm here since 2021 and I couldn't be happier.

So, moral of the story is that there is no "way" to being a marine biologist. Just get your feet wet (pun intended and literally) in everything! Who knows where that skill will lead you? Who knows what opportunities will open up? Start in a lab cleaning the buckets - one day, when the time is right, they'll welcome you as the new PhD student. You don't know. The trick is just to be flexible and stubborn as hell...because it *is* hard. I watched 2 friends of mine go through all the same steps, and be so passionate, and then they gave up. One is a nurse now and the other works in...HVAC? Some business...it's sad, but sometimes it happens. There's no shame - you have the God-given right to give up! This job is hard, this dream is hard, and 9 times out of 10, you get paid next to nothing and get little respect. It's a passion. You have to keep that passion alive and I kept it alive by saying "fuck it - I *am* going to hold a shark" - and I do all the time now. I am on the boat doing the hard science, but I also flip out and take pictures of baby sharks and cool stuff in the net and feed the seagulls. When we're out at sea for 5 days straight, it's all worth it to me because tomorrow there will be fish in the net and there might be something really really cool.

...Maybe it's a form of gambling addiction. That's what fishing is at the end of the day, right? Fish gambling.

Would you recommend it to someone who is interested in the current climate?

I would never ever recommend that someone *not* follow their dreams. If you want to hold sharks, then go out there and make it a reality. Yes, the current government is a piece of shit. Right now at my job, there is a looming dread because we're 100% grant funded. Federal grants are our bread and butter and of course there was that bullshit this week where they wanted to pull funds from science projects focused on DEI and climate change, which

Let me tell you something - *that's where the work is in this damn field is.* Climate change is a threat to fisheries and fisheries management because there is proof animals are shifting their ranges north. What does that mean for the fishermen when all the lobsters literally walk away? What *does* happen when we install wind farms in the NY Bight? How is the ecosystem going to change? What are the trade-offs? One of my professors put it this way - Climate change is scary and sad and infuriating, but at the same time, it's also opening up so much opportunity for research. He's right. Climate change is here - might as well study it.

But anyway, that doesn't mean it's all gone down the toilet. I don't want to get too political (you'll know how I feel pretty quickly if you're following me), but it takes perseverance to get a job in this field, and the entire time you work in it, you will have to persevere. There's always some bullshit. Be flexible. Like more than one animal. Like more than one topic. Be passionate about different things. I never in 100 years would have thought I'd be this passionate about pushing people to eat local seafood (because it's healthier and supports our local economy and ecosystems). I never thought I'd give a shit about that. I never thought I'd love skates and sea robins almost as much as I love sharks. You keep your options open and keep trying new stuff. Fuck Trump - don't let anyone tell you you can't. Only you can decide that, and it's OK if you do. But it has to come from YOU.

Are there caveats or dangers to be aware of?

This is hard, because it all depends on where you end up, but I think the above answer covers the "job security" bit. As long as there are industries that depend upon the ocean, there is a job for you in some capacity. Fisheries - recreational and commercial, wind farm and other ocean construction, endangered species, etc etc etc. None of that is going away and we need people to study this shit and have answers so we can proceed confidently.

And physically, yeah! Oh yeah, it can be a dangerous job, especially if you're going out to sea. A commercial fishing vessel is basically like a factory, except the factory is bouncing around, it's slippery, and Ricky might be barfing in the corner. :) It's a dirty dirty job. And in fishing, there is...animal gore. Like a lot of it. I have...seen shit. Sometimes it can't be helped.

And lastly, I think no matter what job in marine bio you have, you will understand things and care about things that the general public doesn't care about, and they will have the audacity to argue with you about it. Like, people ask me a question. I answer it. I get an argument. Bitch, why you ask me??? And you will also not agree with other organizations and people in your field. It's science and we are only people.

Anyway, I'm sorry this is so long. I actually deleted a lot of tangents because that wouldn't be useful to you lmao. But if you have any other questions or even just wanna talk fish, I always get excited to see an ask in my ask box. :3 Thanks for this!

#there are many benefits to being a marine biologist #marine biology #careers #fish #fish careers #fishing #fisheries #science #encyclopika talk

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ceph-the-ghost-writer · 1 year ago

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WIP Questions Tag

Rules : Answer as many (or as few) of the questions about your WIP as you can.

Tagged by @drawnecromancy! Read their answers for Le Prix du Sang here.

1. What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

Apophenia was originally a short story called "Dysthanasia" I wrote for an event on Ao3. Now Dysthanasia is the name of the series overall, and the story's a novel-length rough draft in the process of being rewritten.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

Something short, instrumental, and spooky but with a touch of whimsy. Gotta have that little spark of fun or it'd wind up taking itself too seriously.

3. Who are your favourite character(s) and why?

I'm in love with all of them, but I have to stand by my protagonist, Isaac. He's a squishy human nerd, with no supernatural powers to speak of, but through being resourceful and more than a little lucky manages to survive awful situations. A lot of his characterization has to do with principles and compassion, but not quite in the soft or naive way readers might expect. His enemies repeatedly try to buy or break him, punishing him every time he does what he feels is right, but Isaac remains defiant, refusing to become jaded or take the easy way out. Is he destined to become a martyr? A monster? Stay tuned.

4. What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP?

I'd hope The Vampire Chronicles fans would get into it. Maybe The Witcher fans, as far as characters relying on each other in an unjust world goes? Possibly readers of Octavia Butler, whose work I enjoy. I guess anyone who likes fictional organizations and the paranormal might see the appeal.

5. What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP?

Juggling all the backstory and worldbuilding that influences the characters and plot. So much happens before the actual story even starts. The death of Isaac's family. Renato becoming a bloodborn and his eroding loyalty to his sire. A cataclysm that reshaped the map. I'm doing my best to make these come through the text without hitting the reader with a wall of exposition.

6. Are there any animals in your story?

Living and undead! There's Renato's beloved goldfish, Tesoro. The elk, coyote, and bear Motley transforms into. Likewise the species of sharks that some of the good people of Eureka, Nevada can turn into. Or the livestock they raise, mainly sheep, goats, and chickens.

7. How do your characters get around?

Electric cars, horses, trains, or by turning into a much quicker animal.

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

I think I'm almost halfway through the outline for the rewrite? Isaac is getting to know the supernatural locals of America's friendliest town on its loneliest road, and they him.

9. What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

Renato being a hot vampire, and there being different factions to identify with will probably lure some in. Hopefully they decide to stay for the characters, emotional arcs, and end of the world too.

Dysthanasia Taglist (Sign up or ask to be +/-): @thecyrulik @thatndginger @sunset-a-story @space-writes @scoundrelwithboba (feel free to consider this a tag for the game itself too)

Additionally @izzyspussy @wintherlywords @authoralexharvey @chauceryfairytales @autumnalwalker @revenantlore @captain-kraken @angsty-prompt-hole

Blank questions beneath the cut

1. What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

3. Who are your favourite character(s) and why?

4. What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP?

5. What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP?

6. Are there any animals in your story?

7. How do your characters get around?

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

9. What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

#dysthanasia #writeblr #writing tag games

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cynicalraccoon · 1 year ago

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Knockout: Terry, look at this hot mama I found today. 🔥😩

Soap: Whoa! Is that a Great White?!

Soap: Is that real?!

Gaz: Knockout, you having fun without us?

Ghost: Terry?

Price: That better just be a really clear video on the internet, Knockout.

Malia checked her phone for Terry's response, only to wince when she saw that she sent the text to the wrong group chat.

Knockout: Sorry. Sent that to the wrong number.

She deleated the text and video. Then set it to Terry. A moment later, her lips twitched when she heard her phone buzz one after the other.

Terry: First, Why are you that close?!

Terry: Second, she's gorgeous! Much better than the monster spider you showed yesterday.

Rowen: I question your tastes sometimes, Mal.

Rowen: But she is pretty when viewed from behind a screen.

Fey: Isn't that what all men say when watching porn?

Rowen: Women say it too when reading about or watching fictional toxic men.

Terry: Only when they're sexy.

Fey: Amen to fictional sexy men.

Alan: What's going on?

Alan: I saw porn and then a prayer to fictional men.

Fey: We're making a cult.

Rowen: No! Don't include me in your fetishes!

Alan: A normal day, huh?

Malia chuckled at her chaotic friend group, flopping on the bed in her hotel room. She was on leave for a week. It was a small treat to get away from the stress of the military for a bit. Of course, the stress would never go away until she either died or retired.

Malia: Just showing them a video of a shark i swam with today.

Alan: Aquatic female fatale over here.

Alan: Safe?

Malia: Me or the shark?

Malia: Aren't I always?

Alan: Both.

Terry: Mom and Dad are flirting again~

Rowen: 🤢

Fey: *sigh* young love

Malia: 🖕

Malia: fuck off.

The week went by in what semeed like the blink of an eye, and the day for Malia to return to base arrived; to her diasppointment. At least she had some photos to remember the trip.

Digging the photos out of her duffel bag, Malia hung them up on the wall to join the already quite sizable collection of photos.

They varied in subjects; animals, locations she had been deployed in, and even photos of a few locals.

When she was settled, the brunette changed into her uniform. She felt the persona of Knockout settle over her like one of the combat gloves she wore on duty. Well, it was an overstatment to call it a persona. More like a mask. A necessary precaution to seperate herself from caring about her teammates more than what was strictly professional.

Malia shook her head and left, striding to the mess hall. It should be around breakfast now, so 141 should be there. If not, it didn't matter.

As usual, the mess hall was loud when she entered.

"Knockout!" She heard Soap's accented voice to her over the chatter. Looking over, she spied him at the table with Ghost, Price, and Gaz. The Scot was beckoning her over with a mischevious smirk on his face.

She would admit, they were handsome and their personalities weren't too bad. Ghost's voice was a bonus too. But just because of those two and a half things, that didn't mean she would risk her career to spread her legs. She was neither one of those fanfic girls from the stories Terry had happily read to her nor was she a barrack's bunny.

She worked hard to gain her reptuation on and off the field and have people take her seriously. And it had payed off. Besides, the chaotic and bloody enviornment that inspired trauma, corruption, power trips, betrayal, and assholish behavior wasn't conductive for anything other than a work relationship.

Malia blinked when Soap called her name again. She gave him a curt nod and got her food before walking over to the four.

"There's that infamous scowl." Soap said, sitting down. "Was beginning to miss it." Malia echoed his action, shooting him said scowl.

"You have Ghost." She said simply.

Soap chuckled. "Not the same. I can't see his."

Ghost, sitting across from Malia, rolled his eyes. With his face hidden behind the mask, the action spoke clearly of his unamusement. Deep brown eyes-just a few shades darker than hers-slid to the woman.

"Have fun with your sharks?" He asked gruffly. "Or, your "hot mommas"?"

Malia almost choked on her eggs when she heard his words. Price raised a brow, one side of his mustach slightly raised, while Gaze and Soap snickered like two children.

She glared at Ghost, noting the faint amusement flashing through his eyes. Damn him.

"Never say that again." Malia huffed, setting down her apple juice. Even with his voice, hearing him say "hot mommas" was weird. "And I did. Was relaxing. Moving to other topics now."

"But I want to hear more about your trip." Soap prodded. "Where did you go?"

"Who's Terry?" Gaz added, wearing a cheeky expression. "Boyfriend?"

Nope. "Personal." She replied, a bit of bite in her tone. But they were not deterred. They had seven years to get used to her rough personality. Hell, aside from Price and a few others, they didn't even know her real name.

Soap groaned, almost leaning on Ghost. "Come on, Knockout. We barely know anything about you since you came on the team. At least give us this."

"I'll tell you mine when Ghost tells his."

Gaz smirked when the Scot frowned. They all knew Ghost was tightlipped about his personal life and past. It was like trying to pull teeth from a bear.

Price shook his head with a soft chuckle. "There will be a day where you won't have Ghost to hide behind anymore, Knockout."

Her scowl turned into a smug smirk, saluting him with her cup. "When Hell freezes over completly, Captain."

A/N: I haven't played Call Of Duty. I only know bits and pieces of information about the characters. Why I decided to write this? Well, I wanted to test an idea I had to branch out of my comfort zone a bit and see if one of my ocs would fit in cod. I got inspired by the many fanfics on here and other platforms that I've read and liked.

#cod mwii #ghost mw2 #Call Of Duty #John Price #Kyle “Gaz”#Soap #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #practice writing #writing #cod mw2 oc

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bobadeux · 18 days ago

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Perhaps, you know Madrid for its soccer team, but when I think of Madrid I see color. That was the first thing I noticed when our group arrived off the train. I can picture myself walking down the street in between shops decorated in florals covering the pastel walls. Not just their streets are beautiful, but the people too. My dressed-up look was nothing compared to their fashion. We spent our free day, “thrifting.” Madrid's definition of thrifting is equivalent to our well-off consignment stores. I remember one store even had a Louis Vuitton duffle bag.

Speaking of color, the locals are very colorful if you understand what I mean. It is very dominant in Spain and Madrid is the hotspot. No wonder, they dress so well.

The place we stayed was a hostel. In the words of google, a hostel is a type of budget accommodation, typically for short-term stays, where travelers can rent a bed in a shared dormitory room, often with bunk beds. In summary, it is a cheap dorm room you share with strangers unless you book with a group. Luckily, we were not with strangers but had a private room to ourselves. The first night upon our stay, we went out to view the sunset at a park. You could see the sun descending slowly behind distant mountain peaks. It was beautiful. The breeze was so gentle and the light soft. It felt like a scene out of a rom-com.

However beautiful the landscape was, the original reason for this post was to discuss the food. We ate at a lovely restaurant called Madrid Madriz. I highly recommend it. I was indecisive on what to get so I ended up splitting a few dishes with a fellow student. I ate my gut out that night. We had carbonara, fried squid, croquettes, garlic shrimp, and dogfish (which if you don’t know is shark). A little background information, up until that night the only seafood I had had was crab. Side note, if you are in a foreign country JUST TRY IT. It is a once in a lifetime experience and how will you ever know if you like it? Also, Europe doesn’t really do ice cream. Everything is gelato and Spain has a ton of it. I recommend fruit flavors like Mango, but Stracciatella (chocolate chip) is really good. If you like zesty flavors, Madrid is definitely the place for you.

#student #study abroad #europe #madrid spain

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warriorscend · 2 months ago

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📼 +🍿

The conclusion of the champion's tournament comes as no surprise to him. Despite having struggled with piercing his final opponent's nigh unbreakable defenses, it was the last of the echidna warriors to claim victory before it was the heat of the magma chamber of an arena left to topple the youth's stubbornly held stance against the wave of jeers amongst those in the crowd that had lost their bets to a mere technicality. Crumpled and half curled into a last ditch defense of flared quills, he sinks into a dark and balmy state of awareness that may have blurred the scorned sentiments of a crowd's roar, but kept him distantly aware of how the quills framing his face scuff along the baked in heat of a bedrock floor as he's dragged by a limp wrist along it. He has the briefest surge of what's left of his adrenaline after the fight to peer through slits of unfocused amethysts. A faint understanding of being dragged away from the arena and the noxious fumes of the bubbling magma that surrounded it quells any immediate doubts of his safety, though as to who has him, he cannot say or make out past a shadowy slump of shoulders that fade back into the backs of his eyelids.

﹉﹉﹉

"Local legend goes there's some sort of god in this here volcano." He recalls Castor saying during one of their post battle soaks together in the heated waters along the base of the flaming mountain. "And all this fighting is what calms it down every year. Can you believe that?"

He'd hesitated before nodding at the time, prompting a conceding groan from the shark. "Course you do. Ya come from a line of supposedly shiny rock worshippers. Dunno why I asked."

﹉﹉﹉

There's no telling how long he's out for, and he doesn't think to ask once he comes back around again, the sound of metal clamps clicking into place enough to rouse a jerk and a subsequent shake of his head once peeled off of where it had rested slumped to the crescent of pale fur upon his chest. "Castor...?" His first thought finds itself little reason to be given the empty state of the room he finds himself in propped against a wall to rest. Though his subconsciousness would insist again soon enough when the familiar jaunt of the shark's words reached him from around the corner he's tucked into. "Cast-" He tries again, shifting forward to hasten onto his feet only for the sluggish effort to meet with noteable resistance. The clinking of a short leash of chain links fastened to metal clamps on either wrist alerts him to something not being quite right here, and pulling on them confirms that he'd been restrained with mere inches of slack between him and the wall. "-what is... the meaning of this?" This was not the way a champion of tournaments should be treated, surely?

From around the wall, Castor clicks his teeth. "Y'know it's not in good business to be so sore about getting the better bang for your buck here." The usual condescending quip of his voice was more laid back and all business, and a grumble from deeper within the room Knuckles couldn't strain enough of a way forward to see into indicated he'd found someone to strike up a conversation with.

"Better?" A faceless scoff dismisses the idea. "Unprecedented is more like it. Your little echidna has already upset the crowd with what they're calling stolen valor at this point."

Knuckles grinds his teeth in place at that manner of phrasing. The restraints don't exactly help the indication of them either, but he holds back for the time being, straining to hear more of the muffled exchange.

"Well maybe the organizers of this annual shit sham should have thought about that when they sent their think tank out on a literal lava field."

"This is not just about some fairy tale that you seem to think it is." A growling retort subsides to disquiet. Then exasperation. "A chanceful terrain victory is not the workings of an acceptable vessel. The people had hope this would be the year."

"Well look at it this way. They want blood over their crispy champ to be, and you...well! You got some left to spill back there, and it's not like it's exactly common either." What was Castor talking about? Surely not him? But the more the echidna trained his hearing inwards, the more his suspicions sank into the pit of his stomach.

A sigh concedes, albeit unhappily. "That very well may be the deciding factor in convincing Iblis not to rain fury down upon the kingdom again. Suggesting that such an offering is anything more than a sacrifice would surely draw much of his scorn. A vessel should consist of royalty and possess an immense capacity for holding onto a power supply. Not some stray of a child."

Wait... a sacrifice? There had been no mention of this during their own conversations. Knuckles strains harder against his restraints, his strength spent from the precious battle that eventually came down to foot work and fatigue. For a moment, the recollections Castor had mentioned about a god in the volcano came to mind, but he'd spoken no more about it after the fact when the echidna had decided it wasn't a terrible idea to smooth local fears by participating in their ritualistic battles to stretch his out his legs in preparation for his own sacred quest. Now it couldn't seem any further from the case.

The sound of coins clinking ends with a casual "welp, he's all yours. You'll get something of use out of'im. I know I have." As footsteps within part ways and Castor strides around the corner, he spots the echidna now alert and every muscle strained to the short leash afforded to his arms by the chains. "Well if you were awake for all that, 'pose I don't got to stick around to fill ya in, huh?"

"Castor..." He starts through teeth half ground and half a tremble. A hint of molten chaos energy taints the irises of his narrowed gaze as the shark lowers himself into half a squat to offer the echidna warrior a hint of fondness in a side strung smirk.

"Don't look so glum, kiddo."

"-don't do this."

"You're gonna be making it a lot easier for these superstitious folks to grab some winks around here pretty soon." Castor doesn't so much as flinch as a fist flies out from the kid, especially when it's latched back as it is and left straining at the few inches between it and the shark's face. "You been a real handy investment and all but its finally time we part ways." Not without grinding a finger in playfully to the echidna's cheek where a stiff snarl awaited the gesture, of course. And with that he stands back up and turns to shuffle down the corresponding corridor, a fin raised at the last minute to slowly wave him farewell. "Don't ever say I wasn't there for ya!" Well. Until now. Seven years was an awful long time to waste on a nest egg.

#//ooooufghhh probably why he relates w wade so much to jack lbr #˗ˋˏ 💎 ˎˊ˗ ; // hurled headcanon #bg ; / / a warrior's journey

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dal-writes-beta · 3 months ago

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@mother-spore-missa @astro-nomaly @highbookwormofthecentury

I made this blog so that I could post the beta chapters with out having to worry about them taking up room on my lego blog before they're done.

An old man with a long, flowing white beard, a warm, sun-kissed brown complexion, and strangely intricate vitiligo swirls and spots on his face stepped off a boat.

"Welcome to Ignacia, The Flaming Peaks Islands!"

~~~~~~~~~

"Kai?" she asked tentatively. He wasn't always in a good mood when he came down here. When he glanced at her she could tell he was in a foul one today.

Nya picked up the sword he had been working on. It was a spiral, like turtle nests in the sand. She chuckled. "Looks like you were too hasty again."

"I'll go talk to him," he put the bent sword away and started heading towards the stairs, "Let's go, sis."

~~~~~~~~~

As Kai rounded the corner into the courtyard, the lovely scent of na'u and pikake greeting his sense. The gardens we're all lush and full of life at this time of year.

Nya was right, Krux was standing at the other end of the courtyard, giving the little old man the evil eye. Kai approached him.

"Hello. Forgive my appearance, I've just come up from the forge," Kai greeted the old man as he tried to wipe some of the soot from his apron, "I understand you wanted to speak with me?"

"Follow me," Kai said.

~~~~~~~~~

Green means it was added. Pink means it was moved. Orange with a strikethrough means it has been removed.

"I don't think that'll be nec-" Kai began.

"Your parents attended."

"Allow me to discuss this offer with my sister," Kai said as he stood from his seat and Nya followed suit. He led Nya out of earshot of Wu.

"Do you think this is a good idea, Kai?" Nya asked him in a hushed voice, "This guy shows up out of nowhere asking you to come with him, and tells us he knew our parents? Seems suspicious to me…"

"Fine. But I'm coming with you."

"You can't. You have that Diplomat's Meeting you have to attend," Kai countered shook his head. Nya sighed.

"Have you come to a decision?" Wu asked as he rose from his seat.

"I will come with you, and Nya will join us after her meeting," Kai explained as Nya nodded.

"Wonderful! I will be waiting at the dock tomorrow morning at 7 o'clock. I am so glad you have decided to attend," with that, Wu left the siblings.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Kai..." Nya sighed.

I think it's a lot better now. What do you guys think?

#the royals au

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mariacallous · 5 months ago

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When I walk into Jen Easterly’s office on a bright January day in Arlington, Virginia, I’m greeted by a giant shark head lurking on the floor. I instantly spot a Rubik’s Cube—an Easterly hallmark—emblazoned with the logo of the organization she’s run for the past three and a half years—the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency, or CISA, which President Donald Trump created during his first term.

Easterly, who is 56 years old, jumps to her feet to greet me. The first thing that hits me is her denim pants, which have a dragon on one leg and a serpent on the other. Then she launches into updates on CISA’s animated “Secure Our World” video series and, in the same breath, laments that she hasn’t had time for a private guitar lesson in weeks. Seemingly a regular day on the job for her, except for one thing. As of January 20, Inauguration Day, Easterly’s time at CISA would be over. Trump had fired the agency’s first director, Chris Krebs, after CISA refused to question the integrity of the 2020 election, and Easterly now says she wasn’t asked to stay. Rumors are swirling that CISA programs—or even the entire agency—may soon be on Trump’s chopping block.

The timing couldn’t be worse for the nation to lose its top cybersecurity cop. A Beijing-linked group called Salt Typhoon spent months last year rampaging through American telecoms and siphoning call logs, recordings, text messages, and even potentially location data. Many experts have called it the biggest hack in US telecom history. Easterly and her agency unknowingly detected Salt Typhoon activity in federal networks early last year—warning signs that ultimately sped up the unraveling of the espionage campaign.

The work of banishing Chinese spies from victim networks isn’t over, but the walls are already closing in on CISA. Trump's nominee to run the Department of Homeland Security, Kristi Noem, told a senate committee last week that CISA needs to be “smaller” and “more nimble.” And a day after the inauguration, all members of the Cyber Safety Review Board—who were appointed by Easterly and were actively investigating the Salt Typhoon breaches—were let go.

When Easterly officially became the agency’s second director, in 2021, the government was still reeling from a different blockbuster hack—SolarWinds. Kremlin-backed intruders had compromised widely used software to infiltrate the networks of US agencies and other targets. Helping US institutions defend themselves became an even more urgent and daunting project. CISA doesn’t enforce laws or collect intelligence; its job is to evangelize digital security measures and offer free services, so institutions can see what they need to do to not get hacked or—more realistically—get hacked less badly. Easterly got to work building relationships across the federal government and with state and local officials, corporate executives, and utility managers. In crises like the Salt Typhoon campaign, these relationships are crucial to quickly containing the damage.

It takes a determined person, and perhaps a charismatic one, to build rapport with such a wide-ranging group of people. Easterly has the background for it: She has worked in the Army (with multiple deployments), the National Security Agency, and the National Security Council under Barack Obama, and she spent nearly five years in charge of Morgan Stanley’s global cybersecurity. She also helped establish US Cyber Command within the Department of Defense. Somehow, though, she’s chill. To break the ice, and probably to make an impression, Easterly has leaned into her passions while in office, cubing and jamming with executives and utility operators around the country. And, yes, there’s her eclectic style—high fashion (by cybersecurity standards, anyway) mixed with bell-bottoms and Birkenstocks—but also her quiet, intense obsession with trying to solve the puzzle that is digital defense.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity, combining on-camera and off-camera portions. Check out WIRED’s YouTube channel for the video.

You’re in your last days as the director of CISA. How's it going?

It's a little bittersweet.

Why are you leaving?

Well, at the end of the day, I'm a Senate-confirmed political appointee. We serve at the pleasure of the president. I've not been asked to stay.

There are signs that the Trump administration may be hostile to some of CISA’s goals. Do you think the agency has proven it's valuable?

We are America's cyberdefense agency, but our budget is less than $3 billion. I think the American people are getting an incredible return on investment. Anybody who looks at it will see that there's been an enormous amount of progress made in reducing risk to the critical infrastructure Americans rely on every hour of every day. We're talking water, power, transportation, communication, finance. It's not a political or partisan issue, and these threats are only getting more complicated, more dangerous. Any stepping back of what we've put in place will be to the detriment of the safety and security of the American people.

One threat that’s top of mind is Salt Typhoon. How have past foreign espionage campaigns, like Russia’s SolarWinds attacks, informed the work you all are doing?

What we saw in December 2020, with the revelations about the Russian intrusions into US federal government networks, as well as businesses around the world, was a pretty sophisticated supply-chain espionage operation. I would say the bumper sticker was to finally allow CISA to manage the .gov federal digital assets as one enterprise, not as a disparate tribe of a hundred separate departments and agencies. It's still a work in progress, but what we've put in place across the government over the past three and a half years has given us enormous visibility and has allowed us to detect intrusions much more rapidly, to be able to remediate them and to get ahead of future intrusions.

It’s concerning how difficult it seems to have been for the telecoms to eradicate the Chinese hackers from their networks. Has there been progress in terms of that transparency and insight you're talking about?

After the revelations of these breaches, we stood up what's called a unified coordination group. So we're responding, the FBI is investigating, folks like the National Security Agency are using what we see in the intelligence to understand the extent and the depth of this intrusion. And we're coming together to work with the victims. We've been doing that for months. This has unfortunately been out in the press a lot—

I would say fortunately!

Anything that gets out there has the downside of having adversaries change their tactics. So, while I think the transparency to consumers is important, it also makes it more difficult to then find these actors within the network. I don't expect it to be remediated in the short term.

What about in the long term?

Everybody should assume that our adversaries, in particular China, are attempting to go after our critical infrastructure. The private sector, they are on the front lines of this fight, because they own and operate the vast majority of our critical infrastructure. It's why companies need to put collaboration over self-preservation.

I want a future where something like a ransomware attack is a shocking anomaly. Where damaging software vulnerabilities exploited by nation-state actors are as infrequent as plane crashes. A world where the technology that we've come to rely on every hour of every day is first and foremost secure.

It feels like hackers always find new ways to get where they want to go. Can you win at defense?

I mean, you're right. Defense is hard. I say that as America's cyber head goalie. And that's why it has to be a team. As much as we work to hunt for and eradicate Chinese actors, our partners need to hold those actors accountable, whether that's through offensive cyber capabilities or indictments or sanctions. But, yes, we're on the defensive side, and it's a challenge.

Former CISA director Jen Easterly left office on Inauguration Day as rumors swirled about the fate of the agency.Photograph: Dana Scruggs

Right now is a very scary and precarious time in cyberspace.

I spent a lot of time in counterterrorism, and people would often say, “What keeps you up at night?” But it's really not what keeps me up at night. It's all about what gets you up in the morning. I love my team. I love the mission. Not every day is the best day ever, but you work through the issues, you stay resilient, you stay focused.

Probably a necessary attitude for this type of work. But I just have to be that guy who asks you one more time: What keeps you up at night?

A major conflict in Asia—the potential invasion or blockade of Taiwan by the People’s Republic of China—could have very real consequences here in the US. You could see pipelines and water being affected, telecommunications being severed, rail lines, power. That is all part of a very deliberate effort by the People’s Republic of China to incite what they call “societal panic” and to deter our ability to marshal military might and citizen will. We have to acknowledge that disruption may occur.

Is the public paying too much attention to espionage campaigns like Salt Typhoon? Should we all be more worried about threats to critical infrastructure, like China’s Volt Typhoon?

We are very focused overall on PRC cyber actors. CISA is one of the few agencies in the government that has been able to find both Volt Typhoon within critical infrastructure as well as Salt Typhoon. In fact, it was our work several months ago to find Salt Typhoon that then led to law enforcement identifying virtual private servers that were being leased by the adversaries, and then that unraveled the wider campaign.

You and I have talked before about how Ukraine has faced years of punishing digital attacks and, of course, an ongoing kinetic war with Russia. CISA has partnered for a few years now with its counterpart agency in Ukraine. Do you have concerns that the Trump administration won't prioritize that relationship?

Ukraine is under active assault by a very sophisticated threat actor. What we are learning from how they are dealing with those attacks actually helps us understand and mitigate similar threats to our own infrastructure. Cyber is a borderless space, and what our foreign partners see can absolutely benefit us. We need to ensure that all of us—from the vendors that create technology to companies that buy technology to citizens that consume technology—recognize our shared role in a collective defense of cyberspace and critical infrastructure.

Do you feel that there are too many cooks in the US federal cybersecurity kitchen? Has that been an issue?

It really has not. A lot of people have asked that question, but when the SolarWinds incident occurred I was looking at it as both the cyber policy lead for the Biden-Harris transition team and, perhaps more importantly, from my day job at Morgan Stanley. One advisory came out from CISA that was very SolarWinds-specific. We didn't have SolarWinds in our infrastructure. Another one came from NSA that was focused on VMware, and we did have VMware in our systems. It was not clear how these things were connected. And then you would see an FBI private-sector notice about something else. At this point I've already been in government for 27 years. I'd been in the military, the Department of Defense, the intelligence community, the White House. It's like, I know this. I thought I understood the government. And I couldn't make sense of what the government was trying to tell us about this Russian espionage campaign. It was one of the motivating things about coming to CISA. How do we bring together the federal cyber ecosystem?

The relationships with NSA, FBI, and CISA have never been better. Some of that is personalities, but I think we have actually developed institutional connective tissue, so that it will last. It's very, very clear what CISA’s role is. Now, you often talk about, what does the National Security Council do? What does the Office of the National Cyber Director do? I think we've sorted out the relationships at that level with policy and strategy, but really at the operational level where CISA lives, those relationships across the federal cyber ecosystem I think have never been better.

You said that there is unfinished business as you prepare to leave CISA. Where do you wish you could have done more?

There’s a lot of unfinished business. We have made an impact through our ransomware vulnerability warning pilot and our pre-ransomware notification initiative, and I’m really proud of that, because we work on preventing somebody from having their worst day. But ransomware is still a problem. We have been laser-focused on PRC cyber actors. That will continue to be a huge problem. I'm really proud of where we are, but there's much, much more work to be done. There are things that I think we can continue driving, that the next administration, I hope, will look at, because, frankly, cybersecurity is a national security issue.

I have to ask you, there are rumors: Are you or are you not going on tour when you leave CISA?

You know, I certainly hope to. I played piano and guitar when I was young, but I started taking up electric guitar, and that has become my passion, my obsession. So my big postretirement plan several years from now is to start a bar in lower Manhattan, to have a band. We're going to do magic. We're going to do improv. I'm going to be the bartender.

And will there be Rubik's Cubes at every table?

There will be Rubik's Cubes. I'm obsessed with the Rubik's Cube. When I was 11 these things were introduced across the world, and I was a huge puzzler and a video game person. I learned how to solve it, and then I would go to toy stores—I was this little kid with pigtails—and say, “Hey, if I can solve this in less than two minutes, will you give me a free one?” So I was able to amass this whole set of them.

You must see some sort of connection between that and your day job.

Ernő Rubik, who invented the thing, said something like, if you are curious, you will find puzzles around you. And if you are determined, you will solve them. And when I think about the incredible technical talent that we have here at CISA, it’s the intellectual curiosity, it’s the hacker mindset, it’s the problem solver. But it's also the determination, the relentless drive to solve the most complicated problems out there.

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eyeslikewatercoolers · 2 years ago

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Four Halloweens-Sashnetra

Happy spooky season! Set in the Wedding Planner AU, here's four Halloween-themed drabbles in different points in Sasha's life.

Thank you to @kitty-padilla for betaing ❤️

Featuring Beyoncé, Shark Tale, Pregnetra, and the search for the bestest pumpkin ever.

read on ao3

Sasha age 19, Halloween

This was Sasha’s first Halloween as herself, so she had to make it count this year.

Actually, this was her first Halloween ever, but that was beside the point.

Sasha’s been waiting nearly her whole life to wear a costume that she felt like Sasha in, so this would be a big moment for her.

Except that she had no idea what she wanted to be for Halloween. Or where she would wear said costume.

It took several weeks to scrounge up enough money to cover a costume. She took out some of the money she earned from her (very small) wedding photography side business.

But Sasha will worry about that later. First, she needed to scope out the local Spirit Halloween store and see their options.

Walking through the women’s section, Sasha wasn’t too impressed by the choices. Cheerleader, Disney princesses, and an entire wall of random skimpy costumes. She wouldn’t be opposed to wearing these specific costumes, if she was a little bit further into her transition and was happier with her body.

Sasha walked out of the store empty-handed and disappointed. As she turned on her old clunker of a car, the radio came to life with the top 40 station she always kept on. Upon listening to Beyoncé on the stereo system, she knew immediately what her costume would be.

Know that I can't get over you 'Cause everything I see is you And I don't want no substitute Baby I swear it's Déjà Vu

Sasha pulled into the nearest Goodwill and excitedly walked inside. She immediately went straight to the women’s section, dodging any older women who gave her a look for interrupting their shopping.

She searched through all the options on the rack and instantly gravitated to a shimmering silver dress. It’ll be some work for her, but it was the perfect option.

A blonde woman around her age looked at the dress from where she stood at the other end of the rack.

“That’s a real pretty one you found.” she said, with a deep Southern twang to her voice. “It’ll make you feel amazing, I promise.” She lowered her voice for only Sasha to hear.

This girl was just like her. Her hair was growing past her shoulders, and her makeup brought the feminine features out of her face.

“It’s gorgeous, but I’m using it for my Halloween costume,” Sasha explained. “But maybe I’ll try it on first, just to see it for myself.” She and the girl shared a knowing smile.

“It was nice to meet you, I’m Kylie.” The blonde said after they both checked out.

“Sasha.” She smiled brightly at her new friend.

After several days of cutting the dress and hand-sewing it back together, Sasha made it into a top and short skirt. She curled her hair into tight spirals and put on her outfit in an excited rush. When she looked at herself in the full-length mirror, a wide grin never left her face.

Sasha grabbed her camera from its case and started snapping pictures of her poses in the mirror. She had nowhere to wear this outfit, but she did not care if no one saw her right now.

Maybe one day she’ll have someone to share the holiday with, but for right now, this Halloween was all for herself.

Sasha age 27, Halloween

“What are you wearing?”

“No, what are you wearing?”

This was Sasha’s first Halloween together with her girlfriend, so they planned to wear matching couple’s costumes. But with whatever Anetra was wearing? Sasha was left very confused.

“You said you were going to be Lola for Halloween. Both you and Marcia told me about it!” Sasha said, crossing her arms.

“I am Lola,” Anetra said as she showed off her long white, flowy dress with thin red lines running horizontally over it. “That’s her name, isn’t it?”

“Baby, nobody calls her by her name. Everyone calls her the sexy fish from Shark Tale!” Sasha said with a playful smile. She knew Anetra grew up very sheltered and only started watching non-Christian movies soon before they started dating.

But she didn’t think Anetra was this out of touch with her generation.

“Oh,” Anetra said, eyes slightly downcast. “Is that why you chose that costume?” she asked.

Sasha nodded. “I assumed you meant Lola Bunny. So I wanted to surprise you with a Jessica Rabbit.” she gestured to the red, sparkly gown that she and Kylie worked on together making for the past week.

“We should have talked a bit more about this, huh?” Anetra said as she crossed her arms, slightly closing herself off.

Sasha nodded, “It’s too late for us to find a second option too.”

She and Anetra have only been together for six months, so their communication wasn’t perfect just yet. They were still in the very beginning of this relationship, and this was just a small roadblock for them.

Sasha reached out to hold Anetra’s hand, “It’ll be okay, maybe it’s going to be like a little inside joke for us?” she offered as the front door to her apartment opened, letting in Luxx and Marcia.

“Look at our Shark Tale group! We are so winning the costume contest,” Luxx said before their eyes landed on Sasha.

Silence fell between all four of them. Luxx was dressed in a fitted and bedazzled blue and yellow tracksuit, and Marcia wore a hooded shark-themed mini-dress.

Anetra spoke up, “At least you’ll be the hottest Jessica Rabbit there," she said as an offering to Sasha.

“Next year we’ll be sexy M&M’s. Easy, simple, and no confusion,” Sasha said as she grabbed her purse, ready to go to the party.

Sasha age 34, Halloween

Pulling her car into the garage next to Anetra’s (tarp-covered) motorcycle, Sasha felt mentally exhausted. For the autumn being the off-season for weddings, she had just put a busy day at the bridal shop behind her.

She met with several winter (and some Valentine’s Day) brides, helped with alterations while Loosey was out sick, and oversaw a Halloween-themed ceremony and reception.

She was mentally and physically exhausted, but it was a Friday and Halloween night. Kerri was going to a classmate’s party, and then spending the night with Jasmine.

Sasha looked forward to having a quiet night in with her wife as they would set up a bowl of candy outside, letting trick-or-treaters help themselves.

Tonight would be one of the last nights they’d have alone until their baby arrived in a couple more weeks. Both of them were needing a quiet and relaxing night before life with a newborn took over.

After putting her purse on the hook and placing her shoes under the bench in the mud room, Sasha followed a pair of voices down the hall toward her daughter’s bedroom.

Except the hallway bathroom with the light still on caused her a quick detour. She was about to feel for the light switch but looked in shock at the state of the bathroom.

Orange paint was in almost every spot. It was in streaks around the sink, the toilet, and some on the floor. Some of it was mixed with green paint and some with brown. Upon closer inspection, the paint looked like it was from a face paint kit.

“What’s with all the paint in the bathroom?” Sasha stood in the doorway to Kerri’s bedroom, looking at the two teenagers sitting on the bed, cross-legged.

“One second, Mama. We’re doing eye makeup here.” Kerri said without turning around, holding an eyeliner pencil to Jasmine’s eye.

While she waited, Sasha walked closer to the room. Makeup was scattered around the bed, but none of it looked like face paint. Their costumes were hung against the closet door, as the two were still in their clothes from school.

When Kerri finished, she looked at her mother, “We haven’t been using paint today, so I have no idea where it came from,” She shrugged as she looked at her lip glosses.

Sasha sighed, realizing that this was the not-as-easy part of being the parent of a teenager. “So neither of you know why there’s orange paint all over the bathroom?”

Both teenagers shook their heads, “We’ve been in Kerri’s room since we got back from school,” Jasmine added.

“I’ll just ask your mom then if she knows,” Sasha said as she walked back to the doorway, before turning back. “Where is she, anyway?”

“I think I heard her and Marcia go to the backyard a while ago.” Kerri said before picking up a small bottle of setting spray, turning her attention back to Jasmine, “Now, close your eyes and hold still.”

Several minutes later, Sasha opened the French doors to the backyard and saw Marcia and Anetra sitting in the still-green grass. Marcia sat directly in front of Anetra, while Anetra was facing away from Sasha’s view.

“One last line and...” Marcia said with a face of concentration. “…done!” she said, holding up a paintbrush with orange paint on it.

“Is that why the bathroom is covered in face paint?” Sasha asked, and the two turned to look at her. Despite the mess, she couldn’t help but smile at the two.

“Sash! Look what Marcia made!” Anetra looked at her excitedly, trying to carefully move herself around to show her rounded bump to her wife. Painted on her outstretched skin was a detailed pumpkin with a brown stem and green leaves on the outer edges.

“It looks nice, but why?”

“I know we agreed on no costumes this year, but I’ve been so bored waiting for this baby to come. We found this kit when we went shopping today and decided to put it to use.” Anetra smiled as she looked at the painting on her round belly, still holding up her shirt.

“I’ll go get my phone so we can take pictures!” Marcia jumped up and started walking back into the house.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” Sasha asked her.

Marcia turned around to see Anetra struggling to get off the ground, trying to maneuver her pregnant belly into a place where she could stand up. Sasha helped Marcia by grabbing one of Anetra’s hands and pulling her up to stand.

The bathroom could wait until later to be cleaned. For now, she might as well join in on the Halloween fun.

Sasha age 37, (a few days before) Halloween

“What about this one?”

“Too big.”

“This one?”

“Too lumpy.”

“How about this one here?”

“'Netra, I think that one is a gourd.”

“Oh.”

Sasha watched her wife’s face fall slightly as she placed the round gourd back on the ground. Feeling slightly bad for correcting her, Sasha placed a peck on Anetra’s cheek when their daughter wasn’t looking.

“It’s not your fault that toddlers are so picky.” Sasha pointed out as they continued to search through the pumpkin field. They had meant to spend the whole day doing different activities at the local farm that held a seasonal pumpkin patch, but they’d been stuck looking for ‘The bestest pumpkin ever.’

“It doesn’t help that she’s a little perfectionist like her Momma.” Anetra retorted, giving Sasha a pointed look.

Sasha knew that her wife was right. Their daughter always colored inside the lines, hated her food touching and had to have her toys sitting from biggest to smallest. Delia might look like the mini version of Anetra, but Sasha really rubbed off on her personality.

They watched as Delia carefully examined the pumpkins. The rest of the guests at the pumpkin patch slowly left to get on the hay rides back to the front of the farm.

“I’ll go talk to her, and you go get us a good spot on the next hay ride,” Sasha told her wife as they parted ways.

Sasha kneeled in front of the pumpkin that Delia just moved onto, and carefully rolled it out of the way.

“I can’t find the bestest pumpkin.” The toddler looked at her, worry growing in her eyes.

Sasha held her hands out with the palms up, inviting Delia to hold hands with her. Smaller hands were enveloped by larger ones, and Delia had her full attention.

“I’m sorry, Dee, but the pumpkins aren’t grown to be perfect.”

“They aren’t?”

Sasha shook her head, “Nope. Pumpkins are like people. A lot of us aren’t born with what we like about ourselves, but we can change things to make us happy. Like how we carve pumpkins to give them smiles.”

“What do you mean, Momma?” Delia asked.

Sasha and Anetra weren’t ready to dive fully into explaining everything about trans people to their toddler, but luckily she hasn’t asked yet. They’ve collected some advice from other trans parents, so they were prepared when the time came.

Sasha looked over at Anetra standing at the front of the trailer, waiting for the hay ride to start. Then she got the perfect idea for an explanation.

“You know how Mommy has red hair and we have brown hair?” Sasha asked, to which Delia nodded.

“She actually was born with brown hair like us. But she realized that she is happier with red hair, so she keeps it that color.”

“Mommy’s hair isn’t really red?” Delia looked back at her in shock.

“Nope, but don’t tell her I told you.” Sasha playfully tapped Delia’s nose as she stood back up. “Now let’s find a pumpkin that we can make the bestest.”

The pumpkin they found had a too-short stem and leaned when sat upright, but they later cut and carved it into the bestest jack-o-lantern just for them.

#sashnetra #wedding planner au #rpdr fanfiction #rpdr s15 #my fics #my writing

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outcast-thingz · 10 months ago

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This entire thing is a spiral of me slowly become more and more tired as the 5.0 update stream kept giving me new stuff to put it... anyways enjoy, it's long as hell

2SMTYV59TLFD

7SMTGV59BXH

8T4TGDLRA5E5

BANNERS

Phase 1: Mulani & Kazuha (5 stars)

Kachina (4 star)

Phase 2: Kinich & Raiden Shogun (5 stars)

Weapon banner: Claymore "Fang of the Mountain King" and Catalyst "Surf's Up" (5 stars)

Kachina (4 star)

- Geo polearm

-**Elemental Skill:** Summons "Turbo Twirly" a drill-like device that can unleash ground slam attacks, can also be summoned as a seperate combat unit to deal geo dmg on its own. Using hold on skill or pressing it again while she's on the device will give her the ability to ride and climb up walls

-**Elemental Burst:** In his words "will create an area similar to a construction site" the Turbo Twirly will get some boosts in that AOE

-**Passive:** Shows regional specialties AND when she interacts with the local specialties she restores stamina to the party

Mulani (5 star)

- Hydro Catalyst

-**Elemental Skill:** using her skill she will mount her "Sharky Surfboard" which can mark and bite enemies. The bites will slowly add up on a meter for a stronger burst. The surfboard state can also help her navigate through special areas

-**Elemental Burst:** launches a "Shark Missile"

-**Passive:** can Show regional specialties interacting with them will restore the party's Phlogiston

Kinich (5 star)

- Dendro Claymore

-**Elemental Skill:** fires a grappling hook that attaches to enemies. When attached he can swing and jump around them while sending attacks to them. At the right moment he can use a powerful move called Scalespiker Cannon" This will also allow him to swing in mid-air to move rapidly can use Phlogiston for extra swing.

-**Elemental Burst:** "Ajaw" his little dragon buddy releases his full power sending out a powerful lazer from his mouth at the enemies

-**Passive:** can show regeional specialties and when interacting with them he can boost the movement speed of the party

EVENTS

- Web Event "Off We Go to the Nation of Pyro" can get 3 of the forgeable weapons through this event

MISC. & TCG

- Kinich Story quest

- "Nightsoul Blessing" is activated through "Phlogiston Engraving"

- Created an area to test out the new skills and ways the Natlan characters interact with the world

- Fuck you if you wanted to use Pyro immediately when you resonate with the first statue you gotta do story shit if you want that

-New Forgeable weapons

-two new artifacts "Obsidian Codex" and "Scroll of the Hero of Cinder City"

-WE GET A LITTLE GUY THAT JOINS OUR ADVENTURE A LITTLE TEPETLISAURUS

-Using a Tepetlisaurus form can crawl underground and climb really fast using Phlogiston

-*New Boss:* Gluttonous Yumkasaur Moutain King. Looks like there will be a tool mechanic that allows you to drop food and distract the boss so you can attack. Honestly kind of an adorable boss

-*New Boss"* Goldflame Quecusaur Tyrant ah yes because why wouldn't it look like a Wyvern, he does change to a smaller form to do a flying attack where he launches missiles? quills? i dunno but they look like they hurt

-*Reputation System for Natlan* So in each tribe you'll visit their "Obsidian Totem Pole" this will allow you to access and unlock "Trible Chronicles" which will include each Tribe's legends, local customs, as well as, the Natlan Characters' story quests, and some world quests

-Timed challenges will be using the Saurian Spirits to collect as many coins as we can

-login event which will cumulatively give you 10 fates

-In-game mail will give 1,600 primos, 1 sanctifying Elixer, 2 Fragile Resin, Firstborn Firesprite (pet gadget?), Kaboom Box

-Finishing the main storyline for 5.0 will get you an additional 500 Primos from the interface, which seems like it'll be a reoccurring bonus for 5.0, 5.1, and 5.3 BUT it may that rewards also include materials to get certain characters (natlan characters) up to ascension phases 2 and 3, fuckin wild

-There's a new "Quick Start" Feature for archon quests, but you need to have the Liyue archon quests done and be AR28

-10 intertwined fates as an extra reward for the "Stellar Reunion"

-A "found in the wild" option will be available for the regional specialties in your inventory to show on your map where they are and how many are in that spot to collect (THANK YOU)

-The drop rate for certain monster material will be increased (as they should be for things like Kageuchi)

-World lvl 9 exists now woop woop thus we will have bigger dropped materials from open world and rewards form bosses

-SALVAGING ARTIFACTS CAN NOW TURN THEM INTO ARTIFACT EXP MATERIAL

-Tired of not getting the artifacts that you want? "Sanctifying Elixir" is here to solve your problems. With this bad boi you can exchange it for artifacts with specific main affix and 2 minor affixes. You may be asking yourself how you get them, well worry not dears fo r you can get them after extracting a certain number of upgraded artifacts, exploring Natlan, and/or unlocking Gnostic Hymn and reaching specific lvl

-Battle Pass is being adjusted so you can choose 3 of four types of materials as rewards. Oop and wouldn't you know it, you can change the talent material you earn from it to be any nation's talent lvl up material

-Hey don't worry about trying to finish finding all the Anemoculos and Geoculous in order to get your stamina, you can now boost your stamina limit by offering to any of the statues.

-I honestly have no idea if I read this right but between the natlan statues, the shrines, and the reward thingy that Natlan will have that is similar to the fountain of Lucine in Fontain, it should all add up to a 10 pull of wishes

-Imagine with me if you will for a second. You're on the character banner and your 50/50 arrives, scary as always, but then you see it "Capturing Radiance" it doesn't matter if you're clicking through your 10 wishes and Qiqi shows up as the second thing you got because you now know that you have for sure pulled the promotional 5-star. A chance encounter but encounter it you did

-FINALLY FINALLY that 50/50 gotta lose it twice to get the weapon BS is OVER. It's like the character banners where you lose your 50/50 then garunteed that next 5 star

-Every anniversary you will unlock a wish system to get any 5 star from "wanderlust Invocation" for Free. For freeeeee? yes for freeeeee.

-*Imaginarium Theatre news* will now offer strategies based off the current season's three-element reaction system. They're trying to make it a little less troublesome for players but still leaving room for challenge by adding a visionary mode.

- looks like we get new character, monster, and action cards for TCG

-a collaboration between Genshin and Logitech (merch may be a thing that's also being release with that??)

-I actually took time to listen to the music section. The Natlan symphony? glorious, I need to listen to these more often. please if you go watch any of this stream watch that part, 10/10 would reccomend

-That was.. a lot but hearing Zach saying to prove that he voice's Aether to people that he just screams windblade at people makes up for all of it.

#genshin impact #starshine rambles

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