#Heavy Machinery Hauling

[nffica]

The holiday season is a testament to the resilience and efficiency of the logistics industry. At NFFI, we are committed to delivering excellence, especially during these critical times. Our team’s dedication and strategic planning ensure that your holidays are as joyful and stress-free as possible. Read more........

[aaatruckfinder]

heavy equipment transportation services

Experience dependable heavy equipment transportation services designed for secure and timely delivery. Our expert team handles all types of machinery with care, ensuring your equipment reaches its destination safely. Trust us for efficient transport solutions tailored to your needs.

[buildabot]

I WANT TO DANCE I WANT TO PARTY I WANT TO SWIM IN THE SEA SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING TOWN

[ticketpunch]

respectfully ur jacked

The chance of catching these hands is low, but never zero.

[goldenfreightforwardingmarketing]

Economic Bounce Back & Busy Trade Lanes

New Kids on the Block: Emerging Trade Routes Geopolitical Musical Chairs: The world map of trade is getting a fresh paint job. Thanks to some geopolitical shuffle, places like Canada, America and India are turning into hotspots for trade. This shake-up is making freight companies rethink their game plans and routes.

Digital Swagger: The Freight Forwarding Tech Revolution With the economic landscape shifting, freight forwarders are all over digital tools. These tech solutions are game-changers, making operations smoother, adapting to market swings, and boosting customer satisfaction. Gone are the days of paper overload and headaches over manual tracking. Now, it’s all about slick, all-in-one systems that offer live tracking, automated paperwork, and smart analytics to keep businesses on their toes.

Green is the New Black: Eco-Friendly Shipping Eco Push: Everyone’s riding the green wave, and the shipping industry is no exception. Thanks to both carrot and stick approaches (think incentives and tough rules), shipping companies are moving towards cleaner, greener options like eco-friendly vessels and alternative fuels.

Rise of the Underdogs & Decentralization The global economy is less about the usual heavyweights and more about rising stars like Vietnam and India, reshaping the freight demand and flow. Plus, tech is levelling the playing field, enabling smaller companies to duke it out with the big dogs by offering top-notch service and efficiency.

Setting Sail: The Shift to Ocean Freight & Tech Tools With folks leaning into environmental concerns and wallet-friendly options, ocean freight is getting more attention. This has spiked the demand for ocean-specific freight software that makes maritime shipping smarter and smoother.

AI on Board: Smarter Ocean Freight Ocean freight’s getting a brain boost with AI. Think of AI as the new captain, helping predict delays, navigate the weather, and even cut down on fuel use. This isn’t just about keeping shipments on track; it’s about making them smarter and more cost-effective.

Better Together: Enhanced Collaboration Through Digital Platforms In today’s global village, smooth teamwork across borders is key. Modern freight systems are making it easier for everyone involved in shipping to stay on the same page. By sharing info and syncing up, these digital platforms are knitting a tight-knit shipping community.

Tailor-Made Tech: Custom Freight Solutions Just like no two people are the same, businesses have unique shipping needs. Enter custom freight platforms, offering services you can mix and match to fit your specific needs, from picking the best routes to managing your stockpile.

Economic Guard Dogs: Navigating Protectionism Some places are throwing up trade barriers to protect their turf, which can be a headache for the freight world. The antidote? Smart freight platforms that can weave through these regulatory mazes.

E-commerce Explosion & the Last-Mile Hustle The e-commerce boom is reshaping retail, cranking up the pressure for quicker, slicker last-mile deliveries. Freight systems that can click with e-commerce setups and give live updates are winning big.

Flexibility & Resilience: More Than Buzzwords The twists and turns of 2024’s economic rollercoaster highlight just how crucial it is for freight companies to stay nimble and resilient. Those ready to leverage tech, green up their act, and keep a global perspective are set to ride high.

So, there you have it: 2024’s freight forwarding landscape in a nutshell. It’s all about being tech-savvy, eco-conscious, and ready to adapt to the global beat. With the right tools and attitude, the future looks bright for the freight world.

[obesogen]

You introduce yourself to someone

"Hi, so-and-so, I'm ..." and you think that you say your name,

but your plump hands, slightly sweaty,

and your swollen forearms, encroaching on small wrists,

your upper arms role-poly like the Michelin man,

and your wide, sloppy, drooping gut,

which is in theory fully covered by a shirt

barely tho;

your deep, wide belly button visible through thin fabric, stretched taut, 12x getting too small,

and let's not forget your double chin,

your soft pillowy neck roll,

your dewlap, a perfectly closed collar of squishy fat that

your tiny features sink into–

these things say

hi so-and-so,

i'm super obese, morbidly obese, obese class III,

i'm permanently disabled by how fat i have become

i'm the fattest person you have ever had to speak to

i'm the fattest person you have ever seen in person

and not on the tv freak show

hi so and so, i'm severely mentally ill

hi so and so, i'm traumatized

hi so and so, i am addicted to food

hi so and so, i have no impulse control

hi so and so, i'm ... what's your name again?

you are no one, nothing,

all you are and all you can ever be is gloriously obese beyond the frenzied imaginings of our starving ancestors who carved the venus of willendorf

you are stuffed to the point of near-bursting; even the backs of your neck rolls are frosted with stretch marks. the body always finds somewhere to store fat, and with all the usual spots so filled to the brim, you notice eventually even your forehead is fat; a deposit of soft tissue that furrows above your brows, like a sharpei.

Not long after you got a second mobility aid for out in public, a powerchair with a capaciity of 1100 pounds and hydraulic suspension and tread on its 8 tires like a tank, you started using your old one around the house, always on the verge of breaking down under the additional 200 pounds you carry beyond its rated 500 pound capacity. Not long after, unthinkingly, you just stopped walking, out of sheer bone-idleness. You couldn't say when your last day on your feet was, you surrendered sooner than that day came, comfortably dependent.

Months later, you dimly attempt to recall when you last moved, standing, from one point in space to another. Until the last month, you could still, barely, haul yourself up using a bar to support and balance yourself. From being pushed up out of your powerchair with a forward lift, to the belly gathering momentum and sliding down, to you standing shakily and taking one shuffling step to reposition your body so you can transfer from one big chair to another big chair, and from one big chair to the big motorized bariatric hospital bed.

Now, just 20 pounds later, you can't move your blob body hardly at all below your greedy mouth with its greasy, parted, mouthbreathing lips and beyond your wriggling sausage link fingers. You cannot move any other part of your body without needing help. You are not to your knowledge paralyzed really in any way, you just shamelessly became too fat to lift your own arms, you press a button on a remote that must be attached to your fat hand since if you drop it you couldn't even retrieve it with a string, you are just that weak– so thoroughly inhabiting how obese you are through the total abdication of all decisions.

Once the support bar began to gather dust and was eventually packed away- you become adjusted to transfering from place to place using motorized cranes and winches, your fat slab form filling huge slings with tough straps, prone and helpless, drowning beneath countless rolls, lovingly oiled machinery creaking as it hefts your megafat body.

Your muscles are so weak and your limbs are so heavy. You still have the urge to to struggle and sweat to lift another treat to your bottomless pit of a stomach. You are estimated to be able to hold several gallons in there before feeling sick from fullness.

Most days you simply lie expectantly and grunt with your mouth open, eating everything you are given by any of your staff or acolytes, and sucking melted ice cream sludge from one tube, or chugging diet coke or (regular) mountain dew from 2 different (fountain) tubes.

Turns out there's more than irony to research suggesting artificial sweeteners like aspartame provoke intense cravings for actual sugar.

You are fat beyond reason. Only the most depraved massive, disabling, immobilizing obesity fetishists could find your tremendous doughy body, with a belly so outsized you must be buckled into powerchairs and scooters and even the shower chair. If you don't endure the humiliation of being buckled into the modern day litter which drags your fat around, your unwieldy pannus threatens to upset your vehicle, tipping you forward and pulling you down– you know you would be left on the floor gasping, unable to even sit up, defenseless, amorphous.

And besides,

you forgot your name anyway

years ago,

dont you remember? my

pitiful

swollen

hog.

[orange-demons-deactivated2024]

Might I have hcs of Bosch, Ed and Luke(or you can do one of them, if that's what you're comfortable with!) having a short s/o? My 4'11 ft ass thinks that hugging them would be like having them as heavy blankets <3

combining these two asks together! man, low 5ft, am i short? is 5'3 considered short? no one in the comments answer that. i will not be responding ( ; ω ; )

Bosch - 5'7 ft

Compared to Bosch, your height difference is relatively reasonable.

He's actually a lot more conscious about your height than you were and has an overwhelming urge to protect you because of it. 

The first time he noticed your height, was when you two were hauling large equipment around the gym. And you stubbornly huffed, saying you could help despite Coach’s warnings.

So now here you were, crumbling under the weight of the heavy machinery. 

“Lift it higher, it’s slacking on your side.” He said, adjusting his grip in case it spontaneously fell. 

“This is literally the highest my arms can reach.” 

Safe to say, he doesn’t let you get near the equipment room after it came crashing down on your feet. 

Whenever you talk to him, he glances at the top of your head before shooting back down to your eyes.

And one time mid-conversation he reached down to pat it. 

You were just so...tiny.

But he snapped out of his thoughts and pulled his hand back embarrassingly after he realized what he had done. Please don't ask him about it because he didn’t know why he did that either.

Bosch thinks the biggest problem he’s encountered regarding your height, had to be moving through large crowds. Mostly because he lost you a couple of times due to how easily you blended in with everyone else.

He even makes sure to hold your hand when walking in front of you, so you don't get pushed apart.

He does give you more leeway than other people due to your height.

Like when you mess up something of his or accidentally wear his gym clothes.

Bosch isn't too tolerant of most people but he won't be as harsh on you.

And if someone brought it up to him, he just shrugs and says "So?" 

But regardless of it all, Bosch is still the small spoon in bed. 

He likes the feeling of being cradled in your arms, as he pulls you closer, with his hands linked around your torso. He finds comfort in you all the same, but now there's a hint of protectiveness that comes with it.

Ed - 6 ft

Ed honestly thought you were a kid when you first approached him and he told you to run back to your parents because he wasn't in the mood to babysit you.

So yeah, he knows firsthand how people see you.

That whole thing, about losing you in a crowd doesn't happen because you two would never be caught in one in the first place.

Partly because he hates being in them and no crowds of people ever formed at night.

Although he doesn't constantly make jokes at your expense, he does tease you about it every once in a while. Like when you stand on your tiptoes in an attempt to kiss him.

And instead of giving in to your whims, he'll sit back and watch you struggle.

"Need something?"

Ed knows what you're trying to do, he's just being a dick about it. He wants to see how long you’ll drag this out before he finally relents.

He hates to be the one to say it, but you need to work on your intimidation. No one’s going to take you seriously because of your height. 

But that’s completely different than when he sees people babying you because he’ll shut that shit down immediately.

Calls you 'cute' nicknames like Runt, Maus, and Half-Pint.

Ok, maybe they’re not that cute, but he doesn't give many people nicknames. So…yay?

Your height, in a sense, does make you appear younger. 

And he finds it funny when Bar owners ID the group because he knows they’re trying to single you out. 

Most of his clothes are big on you when you wear them, and his blankets/comforters practically bury you under their weight. You almost gave him a heart attack when he flopped down on his bed, only to hear a muffled squeak from under the covers. 

He looms over you like a threat when he sees people wandering too close. Yeah, you can pack a punch, but it still gnaws at him how easily someone could snatch you up. So you need to be in his line of sight whenever you're hanging out with him.

He may be a bit paranoid but that's because he cares, believe it or not.

Luke - 6'1 ft

If you didn't know you were short before, Luke would've 100% told you that you were.

The first time he considered your height to be an issue was when he saw you struggling to close your fist. He lent you some of his old wraps, so you don’t mess up your hands and land yourself in the ER. 

But when you couldn't throw a proper punch, he undid them, thinking you wrapped it all wrong.

Turns out his hands were much bigger than yours. Much bigger. To the point it practically engulfed yours. So his wraps were close to useless since the extra fabric accumulated around your knuckles. 

He ended up buying you a new set to fit your hands better and taught you various ways to secure it so it doesn't slip off. 

It's just the small things like that he doesn't usually think twice about, that he now has to consider.

He would also have to adjust the equipment in the gym so it’s leveled with your height.

Wouldn't want his top student falling behind, now would he?

Loves the way his clothes engulf your form when he drapes them on you. And laughs at how you're practically drowning in it.

Don't be fooled. Even though he's your coach, he's your boyfriend first. So he's not above making comments about your height. "Woah, Didn't see you down there." , "You should drink more milk, I heard it's good for your bones."

Hey, don't get so defensive now. He was just messing with you.

He'll wrap his arms around your waist and hoist you up. Your cute surprised reactions are enough for him to pepper your face in kisses.

Luke is the kind of guy who, if you ask for help to reach something on a shelf, will take it and put it on a higher one. If not, he would hold it over your head and ask for a kiss before he handed it over to you.

All in all, your height is one of the many reasons he adores you and he wouldn't want to change a thing about it.

Jamie - 5'9 ft

Being short around this guy should be written off as a form of corporal punishment, especially for the hell he's going to put you through as long as you're with him.

He's not even the tallest one of the bunch, but he definitely acts like it.

Jamie has an unlimited supply of short names ranging from Ankle-Biter to Short-Stuff. All of which were intended to piss you off.

Occasionally, this guy would scoop you up, saying how cute and tiny you were.

He uses your shoulder as an armrest when leaning on you and laughs if you make a fuss about it.

During the Lunar New Year, the festivities in Hong Hu Lu partied well into the night. Meaning, most of the seats available for the public were being used by the partygoers.

Wanting to find a place to enjoy your food, you asked Jamie if you could use the chair he was sitting on. 

And with a shit-eating grin, he tells you no, but you could sit on his lap for the time being.

Watch out because he'll randomly pinch your cheeks mid-conversation. 

Jamie purposely takes pictures of you from the top to show you how you look from his POV.

Because of your short stature, he gives you piggyback rides back to your apartment whenever you fall asleep beside him.

It’s all fun and games when it’s just you and him because you know he’s not actively trying to hurt your feelings. 

But he doesn’t take too kindly to those who think they can comment on your height.

Hypocrite, he knows, but that’s because he’s your boyfriend so he gets a pass. Not so much other people.

Overall a teasing boyfriend, but in his opinion, your height is definitely one of the best qualities about you.

[littlenightma]

Protective!Rusty Nail Headcanons

• Once you have Rusty’s unconditional love and trust, there’s no going back. He doesn’t get attached to people easily so once you’re his, you’re his for life. He is not going to let you go, not after you’ve won over his heart.

• You guys have seen what Rusty is willing to do for a car that was gifted to him so just imagine the lines he’d cross and the skulls he’d crush if anyone was stupid enough to lay a hand on you. Do not touch his cars and lord don’t ever touch his lady.

• One thing about Rusty is he may be a maniac with a temper problem, but he ain’t no cheater. You will never have to worry about him being with anyone else while on the road and he expects the same respect in return. He has two things on his mind while traveling; getting the load to its destination then coming straight home to you.

• When out in public, don’t expect to get any space from this man. He’s attached to you like bees to honey. If he’s unable to be near you, best believe he’s watching your every move from the shadows, waiting for any signs of distress.

• Hates crowds. By himself they’re not a problem since most tend to avoid him, but with you he’s in a constant state of vigilance, eyes actively searching for possible danger beneath his hat.

• If he ever looks and sees you aren’t there, this cool and collected man will become the definition of distraught. When he finds you, you are so going to hear it on the way to the truck and on the way home.

• “Rusty please, I said I was sorry.”

• “Damn near caused me to have a heart attack looking for you, darlin’. You can’t do that to me.”

• If this man could put you on one of those toddler leashes, he would.

• Seatbelt in the truck is a must. No ifs, ands, or buts. He drives a heavy piece of machinery all day long and when you are on board, he’s hauling precious cargo. If you try to argue, he will put it on himself, kissing you hard as he leans over to hush your complaining.

• Keeps a pillow and blanket in the truck when you get cold or need to sleep. The first time you fell asleep in the passenger seat your head kept banging the window and he was worried you were going to end up with a concussion.

• “That was the best sleep I’ve ever had I think.”

• “You worry me sometimes.”

• Hates to see you in pain, especially when it prevents you from riding with him. It eats him up inside when he’s unable to be near you. He’ll call you from the road every few hours to check up on you and if you ask for him, he’ll stop whatever he’s doing and turn the truck around.

• Don’t get him started about your period. He dreads it every month.

• “I hate it for you, baby girl. Is there anything I can do for ya?”

• “Can I put my feet on you? They’re cold.”

• “Prop’em up here.”

NSFW 18+

• Loves how horny you are on it though. Waking up in the middle of the night because you’re in the mood is the one and only reason he’d wake up early on his day off and not be grumpy. You have every permission to use his body as you please. Playing audience to you half asleep seeking him out, hand slipping him out of his sweatpants and making a pleased noise when you do is a sight to behold for this old man. He’ll lean against the headboard with an arm above his head and a hand stroking the back of yours while you suck eagerly.

• “My, my, what an appetite. Were you hungry, darlin’? Take as much as you want, then.”

• Always makes sure you are satisfied. He ain’t happy until you are. If he doesn’t think you’ve had enough, he’ll give you more. One more thrust, one more swipe of his tongue, whatever it is he’s giving it to you. He loves seeing you come undone, spewing nonsense, taking turns from pushing at his chest then pulling him back down again.

• One day he jokingly says that he’d love to brand you with the cattle iron with his initial on it not thinking anything of it until you ask him where he wants to put it.

• And were dead serious.

• He places the prod on your hip and presses, holding you in place between his knees while you bravely take the pain. When it’s over, he’ll admire his work and the person it’s placed on.

[thelampisaflashlight]

A Lack of Engagement Pt. 8: Save The Date

[Previous Part: Here. The final installment in the ALOE series. I am first and foremost a delighter in chaos. This is what happens when you let me write while ill.] Below the cut.

While the groundskeeper drags the lake closest to the docks for any signs of the giant dick that started this whole mess, Rain and Dew spend their afternoon digging holes and carefully planting the blueberry bushes Bea had entrusted to them.

It's a tedious job, especially since neither of them knows how best to approach the situation; Whether it's better to dig all the holes first, or simply dig them one at a time, but either way the task is distracting enough for the two of them to spend most of it working in near silence.

Rain digs the holes and Dew sets the plants into the ground, carefully covering the roots, his nails slowly becoming encrusted in soil.

They wind up making a loose circle, spacing the bushes out with room to grow, and by the time they finish and take a moment to stand back and admire their hard work, Bea's approaching them once more.

"Hm, good job." she nods approvingly, placing her hands on her hips, "I appreciate the help."

Rain smiles, then looks past the woman towards the docks, "How did the search go...?"

Bea scratches her fingers through the short hair on top of her head, glancing back over at the water herself.

"Well, there's definitely something in the water over there," she says, "but that's the thing; There's a LOT of things in the water by the docks."

She gestures for them to follow her, and they all find themselves standing on the edge of the dock, staring out over the water.

"The water here is relatively clear, so you can see the bottom pretty easily." she explains, "I didn't have to search long to find an abnormality, but..."

She points to several odd shapes in the silt below, "It's kind of a mess down there."

Rain frowns, the groundskeeper is right, there's all kind of debris in the water by the docks, and none of it really looks like what they're searching for.

"You said the statue you were looking for was made of metal, so I thought I could just sink a magnet on a line and see what it stuck to, but, then again, there's so much garbage down there... and I think y'all said the blasted thing was made of bronze, yeah?" She asks, and the pair nods, "Yeah, see, you can't use a magnet to find bronze, because the shit's not magnetic, well, not unless it has nickel mixed in-"

Bea cuts her rambling short and shakes her head.

"Anyway, point is, short of diving in there and having a look around, I can't really go in there and shift things around much more. Taking a net to the lighter debris is one thing, but I can't be hauling up anything heavy and potentially waterlogged manually." she sighs, "Personally, I'd have the Creature From The Black Lagoon over there-" she gestures loosely at Rain, "-take a dive and see if anything fits the bill."

"We appreciate the help either way, Bea." Rain says, "Sorry to take up so much of your time."

Bea shrugs, "Ehn, it's whatever. Besides, if I had known earlier how messy this area was, I'd have probably come out here sooner and organized a group to help sort out all of this..."

She places her hands on her hips.

"I'm going to talk to Copia about getting some machinery in so we can remove some of the larger bits from the water, but it'll probably take a while for that to happen, so..."

Rain hums.

"We'll figure something out in the meantime, go have your fun with Mountain already." he does a light shooing motion, "Just shout if he actually tries to kill you."

"Aw, so kind of you to think I'd have the time to scream if he really wanted me dead." Bea places a hand on her chest, "But yeah, I better get going, or he'll be upset... I did promise I'd let him make dinner afterwards..."

As Bea leaves with a bit of a skip to her step, Dew can't help but turn to look at Rain and mouth a simple, "What the fuck?"

.

.

.

"So a plan B is in order." Rain announces after surfacing for the fifth time, "I've found two car fenders, a large rock that looks like a penis, but was definitely a rock, and, like, three shopping carts at this point."

Dew kicks his feet in the water, "We have to order a giant purple dildo and send it to Limbo via express shipping?"

Rain pulls himself up onto the dock, "We have to order a giant purple dildo and send it to Limbo via express shipping."

"Man..." Dew flops backwards, sighing, "I was kind of hoping we'd find the dick, I kind of wanted to see that ridiculous thing again..."

"I mean, yeah, it was pretty funny to look at." Rain agrees, laying down next to him, "...Dew?"

"Yeah, Rainy?"

"Why do you think that dick showed up here in the first place?" he asks, turning his head to face Dew, who is already looking at him when he glances over, "Like, the sudden rumors, it just appearing and disappearing and all of that... It just feels... odd, you know?"

"Mn." the other ghoul thinks for a moment, "Well, strange things happen here all the time, it's just the nature of things, I suppose... I don't want to dismiss it's... oddness, but, I guess I've bore witness to a lot of weird shit over the years so this didn't really register high on the list."

"But it is weird, right?" Rain wonders aloud, "Touching that statue, winding up in that other... dimension? World? Whatever that was... and then traveling to Limbo, getting out of there so easily because we could bargain with the Toll Man... Hell, even Bea being willing to help us search the lake... it all feels too convenient to be real."

Dew reaches over and trails his fingers down Rain's side making him twitch slightly before letting out a yelp as Dew pinches his sensitive skin.

"Ow! Hey-"

"Well, we can rule out the idea that this isn't real or a dream." he chirps innocently, "But I get what you mean. It's like someone is guiding us somehow, and I'm not entirely sure how to feel about that."

"Who do you think it is?" Rain asks, "Guiding us?"

"Honestly? It could be anyone." Dew says, sitting up again, "You said you heard the rumors about the dick from eavesdropping on the siblings, right?"

Rain nods.

"Well, the siblings all study the arcane arts, at least the ones living here in the abbey do. It wouldn't be hard for a couple of them to concoct some weird multi-dimensional, teleporting penis... no matter how fucking weird that sounds now that I'm saying it." he turns to look at the abbey in the distance, "Point is, whoever made it probably just wanted to test out the statue on some poor saps curious enough the try it out... Or ministry actually shelled out cash for a giant metal dick statue, but that doesn't feel like a Copia purchase to be honest."

"Definitely more of Terzo purchase," Rain chimes in, "or Ome-"

"Omega!" Dew gasps, "Why didn't I think to ask him before??"

"Huh?"

"Omega manages the arts department! It's... kind of a holdover position from when Terzo was still around and they'd do 'still life nights' that were just an excuse to fuck each other covered in paint, but he's basically in charge of deciding what pieces go on display and which ones get vetoed or shipped elsewhere for viewing." Dew explains, "He'd know if the dick is still in the collection if it's not in the lake!"

"...Can we go back to the having sex covered in paint part?"

"Rainy."

"What?" Rain pouts, "I'm a connoisseur of the arts myself... Also was that one of the instances where you and them..."

He brings two of his fingers together, then, after some thought, tries the same motion but with three instead.

"...I will admit that Terzo did occasionally school me on my... brushstrokes."

Rain whistles and Dew kicks him in the side lightly.

"C'mon, ya perv, let's go see Omega."

.

.

.

"...A giant metal dick?" Omega's mouth hangs open as he processes what Dew has said, "No... I don't think we have one of those. We do have a rather large, um, Georgia O'Keefe style statue that has a similar story to it, but it involved rubbing the clit and some people had a bit of a hard time finding the right spot to-Anyway. No, no large metal dicks."

"Aw, fiddlesticks." Dew snaps his fingers, "...Any idea where we can find the pussy statue by any chance?"

Omega eyes him wearily.

"No dice, huh?"

The older ghoul nods.

"Circling back," Omega says, waving his hand about dismissively, "you said you two held hands in front of this dick statue, rubbed it, wound up in another universe where you were married, then traveled through Limbo, came back here, had the groundskeeper -who is currently getting railed by Mountain, a detail I didn't need to know- search the lake and came up empty... which lead you to here, am I correct?"

Rain and Dew nod.

"Yeah, that's basically everything."

Omega leans back in his office chair, bringing his hands up in a prayerlike gesture.

"Boys, have you been eating out of Lucifer's cabbage patch...?"

"Lucifer's... Are you asking if we're high??" Dew balks, "Omega, it's a Monday! I'd at least wait until Tuesday-"

"Professionally, no..."

Rain clears his throat, "We're being serious, Omega. We experienced something really weird, and now we're kind of... It lead to some... emotions. So we just... we want to confirm that it, ya know, actually happened, and also we kind of sort of promised a ten foot tall demon in Limbo that we'd send him back something he could ride, and the giant metal dick that started all of this seemed like the obvious choice."

"Ten foot tall demon in Limbo..." Omega looks between Rain and Dew, "...Dewcifer Maurice Drop, if you're telling the truth, did you-"

"Fuck the Toll Man again? No, not this time."

Rain throws his hands in the air, "He knows about that, but you never told me-"

Omega holds up his hand, "As a medical professional and a man of science, I needed to know how-"

Dew slaps his hands down on the desk.

"He can shrink down!"

"OHHHH!"

As the sun finally begins to dip below the horizon, Dew, still reeling from their conversation with Omega, lets out a sigh as he and Rain fall onto the couch in the ghouls' common room.

"Well... we're back at square one." he says, letting his body sag into the cushions, "...Can you get me my laptop?"

"Gonna order the dildo for the Toll Man?" Rain asks, "You sure you don't want to wait and see if the metal dick doesn't show up somewhere?"

"Nah, let's just... We're the only people that seem to know that thing exists. I'm tired, and I have a giftcard that expires soon, so... Two birds, one stone. Laptop, please." he shrugs, "Oh, and my reading glasses!"

"Aye, aye, Captain." Rain salutes him and Dew rolls his eyes, smiling softly as the other walks away.

As soon as Rain returns, Dew opens up his laptop and clicks on a pinned link below his search bar.

"...You just have this site on quick access?" Rain's eyes grow wide as he takes in a barrage of colorful sex toys in some... unconventional shapes and sizes, "On your unlocked laptop no less?"

"If anyone opens my laptop without my permission and the worst they see is a bunch of penises than I think it's fine." Dew says, pushing up his reading glasses as he scrolls through their options, "This isn't even my main computer... Anyway, let me know if you see anything you want."

"...You're gonna buy me a dildo?"

"Or a vibe or one of those stroker things, whatever your perverted heart desires, I'm feeling strangely generous."

After a bit of searching, and spending way too long customizing not one, but two absurdly large sex toys, Dew carefully inputs the details on the gift card and confirms his purchases...

...Just in time for Swiss to walk in dragging a certain metal dick in what is effectively the ghouls' front door.

"You guys will NOT believe what I found-"

Rain and Dew exchanges looks.

"MOTHERFUCKER!"

[nffica]

WHEN SHOULD YOU USE TEMPERATURE-CONTROLLED TRUCKS?

When it comes to transporting freight, numerous methods are available to ensure that your goods reach their destination safely. Understanding which option best suits your shipping needs can be challenging. To assist with this, the experts at NFFI have gathered information to help you decide whether temperature-controlled trucks are suitable for your specific requirements.

WHAT DOES TEMPERATURE-CONTROLLED FREIGHT SHIPPING ENTAIL?

Temperature-controlled freight shipping involves the careful handling and storage of products sensitive to environmental conditions during transportation. The primary objective is to maintain consistent temperatures throughout the journey, using either cooling, freezing, or heating mechanisms in the truck trailer, depending on the weather and the nature of the cargo.

GUIDELINES FOR PACKAGING REFRIGERATED FREIGHT

Given that temperature-controlled trucks have additional insulation, they typically offer less space than standard dry van trailers. It’s crucial to consider this space limitation when packaging goods for transport in such environments. Employing materials like polyurethane foam, radiant barrier films, and expanded polystyrene foam can effectively shield your items from heat during transit. For particularly heat-sensitive items, such as cold products, adding gel coolants or dry ice can help maintain low temperatures throughout the shipping process.

WHAT ITEMS ARE BEST SUITED FOR TEMPERATURE-CONTROLLED TRUCKS?

Certain items are particularly susceptible to damage from extreme temperatures or humidity and are best shipped in temperature-controlled environments:

Produce and Plants: These items can wilt or over-ripen quickly under unfavorable temperatures, potentially speeding up the spoilage process for other goods in a standard trailer. Animal Products: Items like meat, eggs, and dairy products need to be kept at specific temperatures to preserve freshness and prevent spoilage. Pharmaceuticals: Many medications and vaccines must be stored at controlled temperatures to ensure they remain effective and safe for use. Beauty Products: These products can also degrade if subjected to temperatures outside of a certain safe range.

For further details on our freight solutions or to discuss your specific shipping needs, please contact the team at National Freight Forwarding Inc. We are available via our online contact form and look forward to addressing any questions you may have regarding our services.

[pushing500]

I’m surprised by the beef on these sciencey boys! Is it cause they have to do all their own heavy lifting until they can make bots to do it for em? Do they work out for fun or is it all ‘work is enough of a workout’?

They do have a punching bag in their room (bottom right), which I assume they use to work out on occasion. I mostly chalked their beef up to mining steel out by hand and hauling heavy machinery around all day, though, lol.

[future-fire-dragon-blog]

What Comes Around: Chapter 5

Pairing: Jason Todd x Mafia! Afab Reader Synopsis: (Y/N) faces the dangerous consequences of Gino’s ruthless orders while overseeing a shipment of fear gas. As Red Hood and Nightwing stage a daring rescue, (Y/N)'s vulnerability is exposed, deepening the bond between them and Red Hood amidst a harrowing escape. (Y/N) = your name (l/n) = last name Content Warnings: Violence and gunfire, Intense emotional distress, Threats of harm and physical pain

Masterlist

The warehouse loomed on the outskirts of Gotham’s industrial district, its faded, graffiti-covered brick walls crumbling under the weight of years of neglect. Rusted steel doors lined the perimeter, barely hanging on their hinges. High above, shattered windows allowed cold, silver shafts of moonlight to spill into the dim interior, casting broken light patterns across the dust-laden floors.

(Y/N) stood near the loading dock, their silhouette sharp against the gloom, watching with a critical eye as their crew hauled the crates of fear gas from the truck. The crates were heavy, marked with ominous warning labels, and the faint hiss of compressed gas leaked from some of the containers as they were hastily unloaded. The low hum of machinery filled the air, punctuated by the occasional metallic clank as crates were stacked carelessly onto nearby shelves.

A dim overhead light flickered, casting erratic shadows that played tricks on the eyes. The warehouse smelled of chemicals and decay, the pungent scent mixing with the natural grime that covered the walls and floor. (Y/N)’s crew worked in silence, their movements quick and efficient, their faces set with grim determination.

(Y/N) crossed their arms, the weight of Gino’s orders heavy on their shoulders as they observed the shipment being tucked away in the corner of the warehouse. The sickly yellow hue from the flickering lights above painted the scene in a sinister glow, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. They knew that eyes were on them—Matthis and Gino had made sure of that. Somewhere, they were watching, waiting for (Y/N) to slip up.

(Y/N) could feel the weight of their eyes, causing shivers to crawl down their spine. Shaking off the chill, they turned toward the crew, who nearly dropped a box of the dangerous gas. “Watch it, you idiots!” (Y/N) screamed, marching over to the two young mafia members. “This stuff is highly dangerous. Are you trying to get us caught?” The young men shivered under (Y/N)’s icy glare. “N-no, boss, we’ll be more careful,” one of them squeaked, his eyes darting around, avoiding (Y/N)’s gaze. Sighing, (Y/N) relaxed, closing their eyes as they rubbed the bridge of their nose. “Just—just be more careful,” they said before turning on their heel and heading back to the loading dock. The familiar static of the comms crackled to life, followed by Gino’s grumbling voice, “(Y/N), you’ve grown soft.” His voice was strained, his anger palpable even over the comms. (Y/N) sighed, pressing the button on the small device. “They’re kids, Gino,” they said, their voice trembling. A deep, chilling laugh echoed through the comm. “They’re just kids,” Gino mocked. “I don’t care. Shoot them next time.” (Y/N) shuddered at the command, their eyes scanning the warehouse as they watched their crew continue to unload the crates of fear gas. They couldn’t explain to Gino how wrong this all was. (Y/N) wasn’t like Gino; they wouldn’t kill without reason, especially not such young people who, in their opinion, shouldn’t be involved in the mafia at all. (Y/N) had no one left; Gino had made sure of that, in ways that left (Y/N) shouldering the blame. Unbeknownst to (Y/N) and their crew, two dark figures observed from a nearby rooftop. Red Hood let out a small, disgruntled sigh as he lowered the binoculars, extending them toward Nightwing. “I don’t like this, ‘Wing. They look like a caged animal. (Y/N) seems scared,” he grunted.

Nightwing nodded as he took the binoculars, his gaze following the groups of (Y/N)’s crew hauling crates of what appeared to be fear gas into the dilapidated warehouse. His focus zeroed in on (Y/N). “They look anxious, flinching every time they hear the person on the other end of the comms. Do you think it’s this Gino person?” he asked, noting (Y/N)’s repeated flinches whenever the comms crackled to life. “They look like they want to throw up. Very unusual for a mafia member,” he added, turning to Red Hood, who looked ready to storm in with guns blazing. “What’s the plan here, Red Hood?”

Red Hood grunted, running a hand along the top of his helmet. “They’re scared, ‘Wing. They didn’t tell me much. Probably too afraid that Gino would find out. They did leave this address on Benny’s rooftop for me to find. All it said was this address and ‘Fear,’” he said, standing up fully. “The plan is to attack and fake arrest (Y/N) without hurting them. It’s the best way to get them out of this and to gather more information.”

Nightwing mulled over this, his hand coming up to his chin as he considered the new information. This operation could go south quickly if they weren’t careful, and it would be worse if Gino was present. “What if Gino is here? Or worse, if he’s here and they shoot (Y/N) before we get the chance to save them?” he asked, trying to anticipate every possible outcome.

“I know, ‘Wing, but it’s a risk we have to take. You weren’t there that night. You didn’t hear how their voice shook when they said, ‘Because if I do, you will die.’ It was like their entire will to fight was gone. Something happened, and even if we don’t fully trust them, I think there’s more to this story than meets the eye. We need to find out what’s going on in this city.”

Nightwing nodded, his gaze refocusing on the operation. “Let’s do this,” he said, reaching for his Escrima sticks and holding them at his sides in a relaxed stance. Red Hood nodded in response, drawing his pistols and ensuring the safeties were off.

Nightwing and Red Hood moved stealthily across the rooftop, their figures merging with the shadows. Nightwing held up a gloved hand to signal Red Hood as they reached the edge, peering down at the warehouse below. The building's rundown facade was barely illuminated by flickering streetlights, casting eerie shadows across the loading area. (Y/N)’s crew was busy moving crates marked with ominous symbols, the fear gas inside barely visible in the dim light. Nightwing pulled a smoke grenade from his utility belt and gave Red Hood a brief nod. With a quick flick of his wrist, Nightwing tossed the grenade toward the warehouse entrance. It landed with a soft thud, and a thick, swirling cloud of white smoke erupted, quickly shrouding the area in an opaque haze.

Red Hood and Nightwing descended swiftly from the rooftop, slipping through a side entrance now obscured by the dense smoke. Inside, the warehouse was a labyrinth of crates and industrial shelving, shadows playing tricks on their senses as the smoke rolled in.

As the smoke thickened, Red Hood and Nightwing sprang into action. Red Hood, pistols drawn, fired non-lethal rounds with surgical precision. The bullets struck mafia members with sharp impacts, sending them crashing to the ground or stumbling away from the fight. Red Hood moved with ruthless efficiency, aiming to incapacitate rather than kill.

Nightwing fought with his Escrima sticks, darting between crates and using his environment to his advantage. His strikes were rapid and controlled, targeting key pressure points to bring down opponents without causing fatal harm. He maneuvered through the smoke, his movements deliberate and strategic.

(Y/N) coughed as the thick smoke obscured their vision, the acrid haze mixing with the relentless sounds of gunfire and the pained grunts of those around them. Their heart pounded in their chest, each beat echoing louder in the chaos. (Y/N) flinched as a firm grip clamped down on their arm, the robotic distortion of Red Hood’s voice modifier cutting through the din. “Come on,” Red Hood commanded, his voice clipped and urgent.

With a powerful tug, Red Hood wrenched (Y/N)’s arm behind them, forcing their wrist up between their shoulder blades. The pain was sharp, almost dislocating (Y/N)’s shoulder, and they let out a muffled cry. “Wing, I’ve got them! Let’s move!” Red Hood barked, shoving (Y/N) in front of him as he pushed toward the exit.

As the smoke thickened and the chaos inside the warehouse reached a fever pitch, Gino’s gruff voice cut through the haze with a menacing edge. The deep, guttural laugh that followed seemed to resonate with the darkness of the scene, sending a shiver through the room. His figure emerged from the swirling smoke, a silhouette of formidable presence against the billowing gray.

Gino stood tall and imposing, his tailored suit contrasting sharply with the grimy surroundings. The sharp lines of his expensive, dark suit and the glint of his polished shoes were out of place in the run-down warehouse, marking him as an outsider to this rough environment. His face was partially obscured by the haze, but his steely eyes, narrowed in anger, were unmistakably visible. The small pistol he brandished was steady in his hand, the metal catching what little light filtered through the smoke.

He advanced slowly, each step deliberate and calculated, his movements echoing with the clink of his leather gloves adjusting his grip on the gun. The sharp, predatory smile on his face was a stark contrast to the pain in his voice as he shouted, “Move and I shoot, Red Hood.” The threat was as much about power as it was about intimidation, his voice carrying an undercurrent of raw, unfiltered menace.

Gino’s eyes locked onto (Y/N), and a dark, satisfied glint sparked in his gaze as he took in their visible distress. His expression, a mix of cruel amusement and contempt, revealed his utter disregard for (Y/N)’s suffering. “Think you can just waltz out of here with them?” he sneered, his voice laced with menacing confidence.

As Red Hood immediately fired his pistol, Gino’s reaction was immediate. He let out a sharp cry of pain, the bullet striking his shoulder with a resounding thud. The impact made him stagger back, a grimace of pain flashing across his face. He clutched his wounded arm, his anger flaring into a more frantic rage. The pistol wobbled slightly in his grasp as he struggled to steady himself, his face contorting in a grimace of both pain and fury.

Despite his injury, Gino’s resolve remained unbroken. His eyes, though pained, were still cold and calculating as he watched Red Hood drag (Y/N) away. The frustration in his voice was palpable as he shouted after them, “You think this is over? I’ll find you. And when I do, there will be consequences.” His figure was enveloped by the smoke.

Taking advantage of Gino’s distraction, Red Hood dragged (Y/N) forcefully toward the exit, his grip unyielding. Nightwing was right behind them, his figure cutting through the smoke as he followed closely. The urgency of their escape was palpable, the tension mounting as they navigated the remaining obstacles.

As Red Hood and Nightwing pulled Renee out of the warehouse, they maneuvered into a narrow alley, the surrounding walls providing a brief respite from the chaos. The city loomed ahead, its labyrinth of lights and shadows stretching out below them. The cool, crisp night air was a jarring contrast to the intense heat and chaos they had just escaped. Red Hood maintained a firm grip on Renee ready to make their next move.

Nightwing took the lead, his grappling hook already at the ready. He fired it toward a nearby building, the hook securing with a satisfying clang. With a quick, practiced motion, he swung up to the roof. He looked back at Red Hood and (Y/N), his expression intense. “Come on!”

Red Hood’s grip tightened around (Y/N) as he quickly detached the grappling hook from his utility belt. With a swift, practiced motion, he fired the hook toward the next rooftop, the cable whizzing through the air before catching securely on the edge of the building. The sudden jerk as the hook anchored itself was felt through the line, but Red Hood’s focus remained unwavering.

He wrapped his arm firmly around (Y/N)’s waist, pulling them close to his side for support. As he activated the mechanism, the pair was launched into the air, the world blurring around them. The city lights below seemed to stretch and distort as they soared through the night sky. The sensation of weightlessness was brief but intense, ending abruptly as they slammed down onto the rooftop with a heavy thud. Red Hood’s boots skidded slightly as he steadied himself, his heart pounding from the adrenaline.

As the hook retracted and the cable slacked, Red Hood swiftly unfastened it, keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings. He released (Y/N) from his hold, the momentary respite allowing him to assess their condition. (Y/N) collapsed onto their knees, their body trembling uncontrollably. Their complexion seemed to lose its vitality, giving them an ashen appearance. Each breath came out in shallow, ragged bursts, the effort visibly taxing their strength. Their eyes darted around erratically, desperately trying to focus on the shifting surroundings as their vision constricted to a narrow, flickering tunnel. Red Hood’s gaze hardened with concern as he saw the signs of (Y/N)’s collapse. His breath caught beneath his helmet as he swore under his breath. “Damn it,” he muttered harshly, crouching beside (Y/N). Their eyes fluttered erratically, rolling back into their head as consciousness slipped away. Red Hood’s gloved hand reached out urgently, his fingers brushing against (Y/N)’s skin as they slumped forward, their eyelids falling shut.

With a grim determination, Red Hood quickly lifted (Y/N) into his arms, cradling them carefully, their body limp in his grip. Nightwing, who had been keeping watch, joined him, his expression grim as he assessed the situation. “We need to get them to the safe house now,” Nightwing urged, his voice taut with worry.

Red Hood nodded, his face set in a determined scowl. “I’ve got them,” he said, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. He adjusted his grip on (Y/N), ensuring they were secure before signaling to Nightwing. With a shared look of resolve, they resumed their rooftop escape, moving quickly yet cautiously as they carried (Y/N) toward safety.

Well, I hope everyone enjoyed the action in this chapter. I really hope this shows how much even if Jason isn't happy about this, he listened to when you talked. Luckily the next chapter will be a bit calmer.

Arrivederci!

[ricardian-werewolf]

Grishaverse rant: First Army.

(Dominik the Bold in a field dress uniform and Sobachka in... an enlistment's uniform? Bubby, you're a major, what's up, Lapushka?) Sometimes, now that I'm part of the Grishaverse fandom, I wish I was old enough to have been around when It first started. it's all great, but it's So big, sometimes I feel like I'm screaming into a void. Plus, since Leigh Bardugo is so big as an author, I can't just send her an ask anymore about the size of Ravka's armies, which has been a particularly meddlesome problem with regards to my fanfic I've been writing. With history being my major backbone to any work, I always love to situate my works in a period, and annoyingly, Ravka would work for Napoleonic Era Russia, which means I can haul out my giant Oxford History of Russia (on pdf), and go to work. But, the line of reality and fiction blurs, and as someone who's a very linear and realistic thinker... it's difficult. Especially with the Nikolai duology and the sudden leap from 1800 to... 1940ish with the usage of rockets which should more closely resemble V1/V2s then what I assumed - IBCMs.

“In the distance, I saw Os Alta, the Dream City, its spires white and jagged against the cloudless sky. But between us and the capital, arrayed in perfect military formation, stood row after row of armed men. Hundreds of soldiers of the First Army, maybe a thousand—infantry, cavalry, officers, and grunts. Sunlight glittered off the hilts of their swords, and their backs bristled with rifles.”

(hmmm). LB, where's the artillery?! Also why does no one in this book series wear helmets when going into combat?? Basically, I feel like LB should have put more energy into the makeup of First and Second Army. As a historian in training, where are the calvary beyond this one mention, where's the heavy and light artillery? She says regiments? Give me corps, give me battalions! where are the battle-honors, the Colors of regiments? I know First Army is stretched thin and they fight for the king, but I want regimental colors! I want Nikolai pouring over the regimental histories! Give me more than two Generals, Grishaverse wiki! Give me battle stories. Give me a history of regiments who're disbanded in times of peace and risen in times of war. We know Ravka has a draft and they're constantly in active border skirmishes with Fjerda/Shu Han, but I want to see the machinery and guts of a Ravka constantly in a state of ever-active militarism. Give me proper technological advancement by non-grisha, and for saint's sake, give me a reason why LB hasn't thought of this before Nikolai's Nolniki. It can't be Just Nikolai thinking of these things. Nor just Grisha hoarding all their tech!

[horses-in-art-history]

If the netherlands has friesians, America has mustangs, and Saudi Arabia has arabians, what breeds come from sweden?

There are a few to pick from so I'll just list them here and I've included some of my own photos of each breed so you can get a better idea of their characteristics. There are no "historical" pictures included, so this is a bit of a departure from what I normally do so I hope people don't mind.

Svensk Varmblod (SWB)

Sweden has the Swedish warmblood which has been very successful in showjumping, dressage, eventing, and even driving. As of 2018 it is the most common horse breed in Sweden followed by Icelandic horses and then warmblooded trotters (two non-native breeds). In 2018, of the top two highest ranking show jumping horse and rider duos, both horses were Swedish Warmbloods (Hanson WL and Albfuehren’s Bianca). The examples below are of two Swedish Warmbloods in more commonplace use as all round riding horses.

Nordsvensk Brukshäst and Kallblodstravare

The North Swedish Horse (Nordsvensk) is a native breed of heavy horse. It is still popular for riding, driving and farm work. Lighter lines within the breed are bred for harness racing and are registered in the stud-book of Svensk Kallblodstravare, that is to say Swedish Coldblood Trotter. This split happened in 1964, creating a heavier working-type and a lighter trotting horse. The Swedish, Norwegian and Finnish cold blood trotters are the only ones that exist in the world. One of the most famous Swedish Coldblood Trotters is probably Järvsöfaks. He holds the current world record for Coldbloods in wins, consecutive wins (42), and the coldblood trotter world record time, 1:17.9 per kilometer. The photos bellow are of the heavier type (Nordsvensk Brukshäst).

Svensk Ardenner

The Swedish Ardennes is it's own breed and the result of crossing the imported Ardennes horses to the Nordsvensk. The breed was developed in the late 19th century in response to demands within agriculture. They are a medium-sized draught horse breed that are still used in areas inaccessible to machinery to haul timber.

Gotlands Russ

The Gotlands Russ is an old breed of Swedish pony. Feral horses on Gotland have been documented since the 13th century, but in the mid 19th century settlers caused their numbers to decline and despite a breeding centre being founded in 1880 there was only 14 left in 1922. In the process of rehabilitating the breed two Welsh stallions were used. The stud-book has been closed to outside blood since 1971. They are good all round ponies that are often used for harness racing.

[goonlalagoon]

One summer's day || Coral Island

It was too hot to play in the sun, but it was the summer holidays - the idea of waiting inside until it was cool enough to rub around outside without melting was too horrible to think of.

She'd already been chased out of her Grandpa's field by a scolding grandmother, even though she'd been careful not to trample any plants while she stood under the refreshing spray of the sprinkler and to make sure she was well out of the way of whatever the adults were doing. She'd lingered for a while in the shade of the trees, sticky and irritable, before the idea struck.

There was a clear path from the end of the farm field straight down to the beach. It would be hot there too, the sand scalding under her toes, but she could sit on the edge of the pier and dip her legs in the water. That would cool her off, and maybe Alice or Suki would be around to play with, or to sit with her and watch the fish schooling around the pier supports, feeling safe in its shadow. 

But the twins weren't there, inside or in the town or off somewhere else on the island.

Worse, the tide was low enough that she could barely reach her toes to it if she stretched. Tessa eyed the beach, shifting foot to foot on the decking around the hotel. She could just go and wade into the water, but then her feet would get coated in scratchy sand and grandma would sigh about her walking it into the house.

(Grandma and Grandpa would scold her for going down to the beach and paddling in the sea without them, but she was carefully not thinking about that)

She was straining to dip a toe in the water when her eye caught on the end of the pier, where a ladder stretched down into the water for divers to clamber out. Tessa scrambled back to her feet and scurried over the worn planks, grinning widely. Carefully she chambered down a few rungs of the ladder, worming her legs through one of the gaps so she could sit on the last rung over the surface. She sat for a while swishing her feet through the water - pleasantly cool - and watching fish nibble at the seaweed around the pier.

Eventually she got bored, and thought it had probably been long enough that she should go back to the farm - grandma had wanted her out of the way for the morning, while they did something with heavy machinery where Tessa would just be underfoot, but it was probably time for lunch, and then she could help with some of the harvesting. Grandpa didn't mind if she ate the occasional ripe fuzzy peach before scrambling back down to ground level with her haul to add to his, or got distracted watching the butterflies flitting lazily between his prize flowers.

As she stood to scramble back up the ladder something shifted just on the edge of sight, far too big to be one of the fish who schooled in the shallows. She twisted to look at it - a turtle, maybe? - and yelped as a wave crashed against the pier, sending salt spray into her eyes. She flailed briefly, and her damp feet slipped on the old smooth rungs of the ladder, slick with sea spray and algae.

Tessa crashed into the water, cracking her head against the ladder, and by the time she struggled dizzily to the surface she was already further out to sea than she'd ever swum. Fuzzily she remembered her grandpa giving stern warnings - stay in arms reach of me the whole time, he'd said firmly, or grandma. Don't go past that line of buoys - it's less sheltered and the tides are strong! He'd scooped her up and swung her around before saying seriously. Stronger even than me! So stay on this bit of beach.

Suki and Anne had said the same: they were allowed to swim or paddle in the shallows of the beach closest to town, not the bit right by the hotel. Suki had grumbled about it, because the older kids did dive off the pier, all the time - but even she hadn't quite dared go join them.

Tessa choked on a mouthful of saltwater, trying to yell for help, and paddled frantically for the shore. But it didn't get any closer, instead gradually slipping further and further away. A wave crashed over her head and she tumbled down under the surface, bashing her leg on colourful coral and scraping it open. She kicked frantically, and something yanked her back beneath the surface.

Lungs burning, she scrabbled for whatever was wrapped around her ankle. 

Dratted fishing line! Why cant people just clean up after themselves? Her grandmother's grumbling echoed in her ears, the fine string cutting at her fingers and seeming to only tangle further.

Something sleek and grey flashed by, and for a moment all Tessa could think was shark!

Then strong hands only a little bigger than hers gripped the line, slicing through it with a short knife, and she was being dragged to the surface, filling her lungs in desperate gasps, coughing up water that clogged her throat with salt. Tessa lolled against her rescuer, dizzy and trembling, half aware of a rapid sequence of grumbles and clicks in her ear. Vaguely she gathered she was being scolded, but not in any language she could recognise. She was tugged through the water and dragged up into a rough surface - the rocks by the hotel, familiar from scrambling around tide pools with the twins, almost burning hot from the midday sun and reassuringly solid. She blinked up at an unfamiliar face, narrow and scowling with poorly hidden concern, before he was gone in a splash.

Tessa rolled onto her side, and watched him swim away, shark like tail flicking almost lazily as he disappeared back into the reef.

Later, she would half convince herself it had been a hallucination, a daydream, and she'd somehow scrambled up onto the rock herself. Panic could give you strength to do things you couldn't otherwise, and what was the alternative? that she'd met an actual mermaid?

Later, she would have an old fishhook tucked in an old box in her rucksack when she took the boat across to Starlet Town for the first time since she'd almost drowned as a child, a memento she could never quite stop puzzling over. Later, she would have had a friend help her file its edges smooth and loop a chain through it to make a pendant, a necklace that she rarely wore out but found it oddly nostalgic to hold on to.

Later, she would lean (carefully, carefully) against the railing at the end of the old, half-familiar pier, necklace a comforting weight around her neck, and look cautiously down into the water - no longer as clear, fewer fish and more drifting trash - and remember something sleek and grey flitting past, a frantic windmill of arms. She would remember the shock and the dizziness, the frantic tumble head over heels, being dragged down and down and down - the scrape of coral on her knee and rock under her shoulder, leaning her temple on it to watch someone swim away.

Later -

Later, a lot of things would happen.