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risottoneroo · 2 years

Note

I read your Mista tiddyfuck fic and oh my god my brain melted! May we ask the same for Jotaro?

a/n: absofuckinglutely. however this one did get away from me. wish i was sorry

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, NSFW, titfucking, questionable dynamics, slight verbal degradation, teasing

You tied the strings of your bikini around your neck, looking up at yourself in the mirror. You were really glowing, you had to admit. Being on a vacation for your PhD research was doing you some good. You were a marine biology student, working on a thesis about sharks. Your school had paid for you to visit the Caribbean for the entire summer in order to research the specific kind of shark you’d focused on in their natural habitat.

It was truly eye opening. Blacktip reef sharks behaved very differently in the wild than they did in your research facilities up north, and it was really beefing up your thesis defense. You were excited to continue your research. All the swimming and time in the sun had toned your body and given you a soft glow that you were enjoying as well. You didn’t lack attention from men, but there was one you had your eye on. The unfortunate part was that he was your thesis advisor.

Jotaro Kujo was acclaimed in the marine biology world for his thesis on the Morioh starfish. He’d made many groundbreaking discoveries, and you were so excited to discover he was your advisor. But nobody had told you he was so hot. You’d developed a crush on him, which was only made worse by spending so much time together. You’d caught his eyes lingering on occasion, but had never been lucky enough to catch him alone for long. This trip would change that. It had been a week, and you were ready to make your move.

The first part of your strategy was the string bikini. You’d somehow finangled a day off, and also convinced Jotaro to come with you to free dive and drink on the boat provided by the university. Something convinced you he was no stranger to breaking the rules. All you needed was to push him a bit, and the bikini was the perfect move. It supported your breasts surprisingly well, and would hold together just enough that you could ask him to retie it often without having a true wardrobe malfunction. You looked at yourself in the mirror again and blew a kiss. Perfect.

You opened your bag and checked inside. Food for lunch and dinner, beer, and rum. Perfect.

You trotted out of your hotel room and down the hall. Your hotel was a local business that survived on being quaint and clean. It even still had real room keys for everyone. You and Jotaro had exchanged the extra key, in case anyone needed something. You knocked twice on his door, then slid the key into the lock and opened the door. “Doctor Kujo, are you decent-?”

He was not. He was coming out of his bathroom in only a towel, and when he saw you, he froze. The towel slipped, and you caught a glimpse of black, wiry pubic hair surrounding his soft cock. You flushed red and turned away. “I’m so sorry!”

He sighed softly. “Y/N, we agreed that the keys were for emergencies. Not barging into my room because you’re impatient.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You were still turned away from him, staring back out at the hallway. He sighed again, and you could hear him getting frustrated. “Good fucking grief. Close the damn door and sit down. You’re already here.”

You nodded and closed the door. You turned back towards him. He’d picked up the towel, but still wasn’t covering himself. He turned towards his dresser, offering a tempting glance of his soft cock from the side. His endowment was impressive, even flaccid, hanging heavily between his legs. Your mouth watered and you looked away. He snapped his fingers. “Hey. Y/N. Sit down. You’re ready to go, so it looks like you’ll have to wait.”

You cleared your throat and looked back at him. “I shouldn’t stay if you’re-”

He tilted his head, a glint in his eye. “Naked? Like you haven’t thought about it before. Sit on the bed until I’m ready.”

You sat.

He pulled out a tight “jammer style” suit, sliding it up his muscular legs and over his cock. It clung to his body perfectly, cupping his bulge. You swallowed hard and looked away. Watching him was turning you on, and you shifted a little bit. Why was he showing off?

Jotaro’s soft chuckle caught your attention, and when you looked at him, that same glint was in his eyes. “You thought you had me by the balls, didn’t you? Thought I didn’t know why you were asking me to go free diving and drinking? I wasn’t born yesterday.”

You opened your mouth, and he cut you off. “I was married, but I’m sure you know that. And I’m sure all of you coeds jump at that past tense, too.”

He approached you slowly, stretching his arms over his head. He gripped your jaw in his hand. “Nothing to say now, huh?”

You blinked. “Doctor Kujo, I’m sure I don’t know-”

He chuckled and let you go. “Don’t know what I’m talking about? That’s funny. I’ll play your game. You’re interesting, and I enjoy your company. We can do this.”

You were confused, to say the least, but you decided to go along. Jotaro shouldered his bag, which you assumed had your diving gear and towels. “Let’s go.”

You followed him wordlessly. He led you out of the hotel and across the street, to where your boat was docked. He stood at the wheel and started the boat, and you sat next to him. You stayed quiet until he started up the boat and you were well on your way to the reef you’d planned to dive on that day. “So, I’m not in trouble?”

Jotaro chuckled and looked over at you. His blue eyes were unfathomable. “With the university? No. But with me? That may be a different story.”

You swallowed. “I don’t know if that’s preferable.”

His deep chuckle sounded again. “It’s preferable to being kicked out of your program for making advances on your advisor. I think you’re very intelligent, and it would be a waste to deprive the world of your discoveries simply because you saw me naked a few times.”

He cut the engine. You’d reached the reef. He stood and looked down at you. You cleared your throat. “I’ve only seen you naked once.”

He reached out and traced your cheek from your temple to your chin. “I also think you’re very attractive. If today goes the way I suspect it will, you’ll see me naked a few more times.”

You shivered. You were definitely losing control. You stood, still about a foot shorter than him, and looked him in the eye. “Then let’s start by leveling the playing field.”

Keeping eye contact, you untied the strings on your bikini and let the top fall. His pupils dilated, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. You reached for the string at the bottom and pulled them free of your body. You held your swimsuit bottoms up to him, smiling. His whole body was tense. You’d regained control. “Well, Doctor Kujo. I think that makes us even.”

He made a move to grab you, but you slipped his grasp and jumped into the ocean.

The water was quiet and cool, a perfect contrast to the blazing heat of the Caribbean around you. You relished the feeling on your bare skin, and sank deeper into the blue.

You heard a loud splash, and turned. Jotaro was in the water now, sans his own swimsuit. You grinned at him and swam away, but he was fast. His hands closed on your waist and pulled you to the surface. You both breached the water, face to face. He tilted his head. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while.”

You giggled. “Skinnydip with me?”

He growled. “No, this.”

He grabbed your face in both hands and kissed you hard. You kissed back fervently and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. His skin was warm against yours. You could feel his cock against your thighs, slowly thickening. When you wrapped your legs around his waist and slid your tongue into his mouth, he groaned and broke the kiss. “Get back on the boat.”

You nodded, clambering up the ladder and onto the deck. He followed, now towering over you again. He grabbed you from behind, pulling you to his chest. You could feel his cock pressing into your back. He was fully hard and throbbing. “Bend over the side of the boat and stay there.”

You nodded, and he released you. You bent over, gripping the side and wiggling your ass at him. You expected him to slide his cock inside you, so it was a surprise when you felt his tongue sliding over your cunt. You moaned, knees shaking already. “Fuck-”

He chuckled softly, pulling back. “Your pussy tastes good. Good girl.”

He smacked your ass roughly and went back to licking your cunt, his tongue sliding back and forth over your clit. He was talented. You were already gushing over his face. “D-Doctor Kujo, that’s so fucking good-”

He started flicking your clit back and forth faster, and you shuddered. “Oh fuck-”

He moaned, his hands gripping your hips and pulling your pussy harder onto his face. You felt your knees threatening to give out. You gripped the side of the boat with white knuckles, moaning louder. “O-Oh, yeah- Yeah-!”

He growled, licking you harder. Your thighs shook. “Fuck, fuck!”

His grip on your hips was bruising you, but you relished in it. Your stomach was tightening up, and you gasped out, “Doctor Kujo, I’m gonna cum-”

He pulled back, his thumb resuming his tongue’s pace on your clit. “Cum on my fucking face, baby. Be a good girl.”

He leaned back in, his hand sliding back to your hip and his tongue flicking your clit. You squealed and came hard. Your pussy gushed all over his face, running down your thighs. He moaned, one hand moving from your hip to grip his cock. Your orgasm rocked your body hard, and you were trembling when he finally pulled away.

You slid down to rest on your knees, breathing heavily. He pulled you to his chest. “You were so good for me.”

You nodded, catching your breath. “Thank you, Doctor Kujo.”

He kissed your cheek and stood. “I’ve thought about this for a while.”

He stepped around you and cupped your cheek. “So pretty on your knees like that.”

You drank in the praise, leaning into his touch. “What are you going to do?”

He smiled wickedly. “Those tits of yours look starved for attention. Sit up.”

You obeyed, and he cupped them in his hands gently. “Perfect.”

He pushed them together, practically salivating. His cock bobbed, clearly deprived of touch. You leaned in and licked up the underside, and he groaned loudly. “Dirty girl.”

You smiled up at him. “Do you want to fuck my big tits, Doctor Kujo?”

He nodded. “For a long time.”

You leaned up, presenting yourself. “Do it.”

His cock twitched, precum drooling from the slit. “Fuck.”

He thrust between your tits, his precum lubricating his way. You hummed softly, watching as his tip emerged from between your tits. “Does that feel good on your big cock, Doctor Kujo?”

He gasped. “F-Fuck yes. It feels so fucking good-”

He began to buck his hips, his thighs shaking. “Goddamn-”

He threw his head back, squeezing your tits tighter around him. “F-Fuck- unh-”

His thrusts sped up, making him moan loudly. “Oh, yes- Oh- Unh- hah- Fuck!”

He looked down at you with hazy eyes. “Fuck, you’re taking my cock between your fucking tits- G-Good girl, good girl- Hunh-”

You bit your lip, watching him thrust desperately. “Cum on my face, Doctor Kujo-”

He gasped and moaned, cock pulsing hard. “Fuck yeah- Unh- Gonna cum- Gonna cover that pretty fucking face-”

He rammed home, cock throbbing and jumping. “C-Cumming-! Cumming so fucking- UNH-!”

You closed your eyes just in time for his first rope of cum to land on your cheek. Jotaro was gasping and bucking shallowly, the biggest orgasm of his life washing over him. “Cumming on that fucking face- fucking slut- Unh- Unh-”

His vision whited out, and he staggered back. You opened your eyes and pulled him back in, sucking his cock into your mouth and milking the last few spurts. He panted, hanging onto the side of the boat. “F-Fuck.”

You pulled back and looked up at him. “Good?”

He nodded. “Good.”

You smirked. “Now I need to wash this off.”

Jotaro chuckled. “Probably.”

#jojo #my writing #jojo kimyou na bouken #jojo's anime #jojo's bizarre adventure #jotaro #jotaro kujo #kujo jotaro #jotaro smut #jotaro x reader #kujo jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #diamond is unbreakable #diu #this takes place after diu but shrug #jojo fanfiction #jojo smut #spicey #jojo fanfic

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tryslora · 29 days

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...that storm was NOT supposed to be like that

We had a storm last Saturday.

I think my husband cursed us. We live in the northeast of the US, so our usual big storm time is January and February. It was starting to get nice out, kind of springlike weather, and he commented that we hadn’t had a really bad storm all winter, and now it was over.

Ohhh, never say that where the world can hear.

The storm was predicted to be a non-event. They said it would be rain for most of the day, with 2-5” of snow in the evening. Maybe a short period of an inch and hour rates of snowfall during that time. Some ice. Some wintry mix. Overall, though, not a lot of accumulation or fuss.

I was supposed to have my knit group that day. In the morning, we started chatting in text because we woke up to trees already covered in ice, thick enough to glisten in the light. Rain poured down, the temperature of 34F warm enough to let it fall, but not warm enough to melt the ice. It wasn’t bad… but… the ice sticking to the trees seemed like a warning.

That, and the fact that traffic reports were rolling in—accidents on the highways, including one that closed the main highway I live next to (one direction was completely shut down for hours).

We decided to push our knitting meetup to the next weekend. I’m really glad we did.

Mid-afternoon, the rain turned to ice, sleeting down. I heard tiny balls of ice pelting against the boarded up air conditioner. The dog was anxious and displeased.

Then came the snow. The thick flakes started falling around 3:45pm—I happened to note the time when I looked out the window to see it. I figured that meant maybe we were close to the end of the storm, although they’d predicted it would go until 11ish. Hah. No. Over the next three hours we got 9” of snow. You read that right—three inches per hour. That was the worst of it; we topped out just under a foot.

Except… the power went out at 4:45pm. I’d just tossed a load of laundry in the wash—that laundry marinated in soapy water in a locked front-loader for about 36 hours in the end. When we checked the website (I tethered my phone to my laptop), there was no crew assigned, no estimate on power restoration. Pretty much the whole town was out.

In the end, something like 85,000 people (I think it was) were without power from the storm, over several towns. It depended on exactly what band of the storm a place was in. Ten minutes to the southeast, my parents got far less snow, and had no power problems. West was more snow, but no heavy ice, same with north. We happened to hit the sweet spot.

So there we were, sitting in a house that was getting darker by the moment. The sunroom is the only room with decent windows; husband and I hung out there to get what light we could until the sun went down. We lit candles, and used flashlights. He read on his Kindle. I read a book using a flashlight I have that goes around the neck.

Normally we’d watch TV in the evenings, and while we could have streamed on a laptop, we didn’t know how long we’d be out of power and didn’t want to risk draining our devices. So no writing for me. No streaming. No gaming. I couldn’t knit, because for me, knitting is a multi-tasking thing and I couldn’t stream and knit at the same time.

So much reading. When we still didn’t have power the next evening, there was more reading. We escaped to the mall for food and a movie during the day.

The worst part was the water. Our house is on a well. If you’re used to being on town water, you’ve never had the oh-so-fun experience of the well pump being without power. For us, no power means no way to draw the water up. So we flush rarely. Drink bottled water. Buy baby wipes for hand-washing (and “bathing”).

In a way, it was a peaceful experience. I enjoyed getting so much reading done. I had no guilt at all about not doing something else. Maybe I could’ve written long-hand, but my brain was happy to let go for a bit. I read an entire book, and some manga. I curled up on the couch and enjoyed the experience as best I could. Make lemonade, right?

The power came back on while I was getting ready for bed on Sunday. It had been out for about 30 hours, and we had expected it to be out for another 24. Getting it back was a delight. Even more thrilling was turning on the faucet in the kitchen and getting full water pressure which meant I probably didn’t need to prime the pump (excellent, since husband was already asleep). I didn’t dare start up the washer again, though, just in case. Making the pump go dry while I slept would be bad. My poor laundry continued to marinate until morning.

We were able to keep all the food safe. Our routine went out the window, and no prep was done for the week. I was able to shower on Monday morning before work (thank the gods). But the whole week was thrown off-kilter. I’d slept in a very cold bedroom—the air had made my allergies and sinuses worse. My taekwondo uniform was the load of laundry stuck in the washer, so no TKD for me on Monday because I was still washing (and rewashing—marinated laundry tends to stink of gross water) that uniform after work. No food prep was done, so we’ve been making do all week.

But in a weird kind of way, we were able to relax and let go for a bit. We couldn’t clean, or cook, or write, or do anything we usually would. We read. We relaxed. We chatted. We spent time with the animals. It was… nice.

I’ll be glad to get back to the routine this weekend, though. Because of course, now we have twice as much to do.

And I’m not going to say that was the last big storm of the season. I would never dare to do so; who knows what might hear me and decide to prove me wrong!

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the-whispers-of-death · 3 months

Text

Stone's Background

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, child neglect, a form of self-harm.

This is a classified U.S. Navy file for Chief Hospital Corpsman Vikram Bharat Mishra, or "Stone" as he's more commonly known. (NOTE: This is for an OC and is fictional. There are also military inaccuracies)

Family:

Suraj Mishra (grandfather, alive but no contact with Stone)

Bharat Mishra (father, alive but no contact with Stone)

Rahul Mishra (uncle, alive but no contact with Stone)

Indira Mishra (aunt, alive but no contact with Stone)

Naveen Mishra (uncle, alive but no contact with Stone)

Aarna Mishra (step-mother, alive but no contact with Stone)

Saira Joshi-Kaur (mother, alive but no contact with Stone)

Dinesh Kaur (step-father, deceased)

Mahika Joshi-Kaur (half-sister, alive but no contact with Stone)

Arya Joshi-Kaur (half-sister, alive but no contact with Stone)

Manish Joshi-Kaur (half-brother, deceased)

Mohandas Mishra (half-brother, alive but no contact with Stone)

Civilian Life (1989-2007): Stone was born on November 29th, 1989 to Bharat Mishra and Saira Joshi-Kaur (who was at that time Saira Mishra) in Manhattan, New York. His father, Bharat, was a former U.S. Marine and had been one of the best snipers at the time before being medically discharged due to how cold and stoic he had grown during his time in the Marines. His mother, Saira, left when he was three, unable to deal with Bharat's behavior, leaving Stone in Bharat's care. From that moment on, Stone was trained to be what Bharat called the perfect soldier, raised to be cold and stoic like Bharat.

He held guns, knives, and explosives at an early age, reading military books and procedures as his education. When his father wasn't training him, Stone was locked inside his room with the only thing to do was to stare at the four walls. When he was sixteen, his father went to therapy and fell in love with a woman, Aarna. She quickly grew pregnant and they were planning on marrying, but Bharat didn't want Stone to be a part of the family, so he kicked him out and put him on a train to find his mother. Stone rode the train all the way to North Carolina, where his mother lived, but he had no clue how to find her, so he lived on the streets.

He tried enlisting to the U.S. Navy when he was seventeen, but due to the fact that he had no proper education, he was denied. The U.S. Navy did see potential in him, so they paid for a program which allowed him to get an education, not needing too much since he had learned some things from his father. When he was eighteen, the U.S. Navy accepted his enlistment.

Military Life (2007-Present Day): Stone was a force of nature in boot camp, since he had prior training thanks to his father. He surpassed his fellow Seamen and thus he spent most of his time studying for his college degree so he could become a Corpsman. When his boot camp was over, he did the training to be a Corpsman. He spent some time on U.S. Naval ships as a Corpsman before making the switch to becoming a Fleet Marine Force (FMF) Corpsman and going to Field Medical School and FMF training.

Once he was a FMF Corpsman, he got his old battle scars. During his earlier years, he used to think he was expendable because he had no family, unlike the majority of his fellow soldiers. So he dove in front of the other soldiers, taking what would be their injuries. Most of his medical expertise during those years came from patching himself up mid-battle. He went to therapy and stopped diving in front of bullets, but he was still cold and stoic, which is why he gets bounced around from Marine squad to Marine squad.

He is currently being lent to the SAS Task Force 141, as a gesture of goodwill between the U.S. and the UK. He is the 141's field medic and due to his rank of being Chief Hospital Corpsman, he also helps run the base's hospital.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

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blacklegsanjiii · 4 months

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North Blue Language CH 2

Chapter 2 can also be read on AO3 here!

CH 1!

“I don't want you two to leave.” Mihawk answers and Sora’s fingers stop moving. Her whole body tenses as she looks at Mihawk properly.

It had been two months since Sanji and Sora had moved into the castle, and Mihawk had counted as it had technically been eighty three days, so nearly three months. Sora had taken over many cleaning duties and Mihawk tried to argue until she fixed him with a look that ended that train of thought. Sanji joined him for cooking meals and he would be decent if he was an adult so being a child of ten meant he was very skilled for being young as he is. Sora’s health had also improved. Before she would tire easily and the tasks seemed to take all her energy and she had to take breaks but she could go longer now and had even tuned the piano in the castle and would play after dinner.

Such as tonight, she was sitting at the bench playing a melody from the North Blue as Mihawk sat in the room and read a book of North Blue fairytales. Sanji had disappeared, as he often did, to explore the hidden depths and passages of the castle. Mihawk found them both extremely endearing. Sanji had opened up a small bit, a few words here or there about his siblings, of which he had four and he was part of the quadruplets Sora had carried. Sora still held herself with the grace of a queen, somehow Mihawk had grown used to the way she would carry herself and offer advice in the meetings he didn't want to go to or the best possibilities of treasure or plundering from the maps he had.

Mihawk did not want them to leave, he had learned that after the first month. It was just a matter of telling them, he enjoys the cleverness of Sanji's dry wit when he exposes it. It was similar to his own. And Sora often sang melodies under her breath that Mihawk would enjoy if he caught them. More often than not it was the same one where Mihawk could only glimpse the word ‘moon’ from the foreign tongue she sang in.

“You've been looking at the same page for the past ten minutes, I've never seen you so distracted before.” Sora hums as her fingers fly across the keys softly, the piano growing quieter than before.

“It's a welcome distraction.” Mihawk says, putting a bookmark in and closing the book.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Sora asks, sparing the swordsman a glance and a small smile.

“I don't want you two to leave.” Mihawk answers and Sora’s fingers stop moving. Her whole body tenses as she looks at Mihawk properly.

“I beg pardon?” She asks in disbelief, eyes wide with shock.

“I don't want you or Sanji to leave, but if you want to I won't stop you.” Mihawk responds and Sora nods mutely.

“I, we, I'm sorry.” She struggles as she puts her hands on her lap. “You don't wish for Sanji or I to leave? We haven't told you where we're from or anything that could be of detriment to you.”

“So tell me,” Mihawk argues. Sora looks uncertain but Mihawk continues, “I doubt you'll be able to change my mind, I earned the moniker ‘Marine Hunter' for a reason.”

“I suppose that's true.” Sora sighs out. “Sanji and I hail from a kingdom that fell ages ago, but the current king, my former husband, is trying to conquer it all over again. King Judge of Germa, who rivals most devil fruit users with his technology and experiments.”

“Germa is a myth.” Mihawk replies.

“I assure you it is very real. His top experiments were our children and the soldiers. They were born to be fighting extraordinaires, and they are. With their exoskeletons and no emotions.” Sora states with sadness. “As you can gather Sanji was the only one I managed to save with that poison I took, but it hindered him compared to his siblings and I was helpless to stop it. I was trapped in the medical ward for the doctors to try to reverse whatever I had done to myself.”

“You also said Sanji thought you were dead for two years.” Mihawk points out.

“And I him. Judge announced I was dead and I was taken to a locked off medical wing, Sanji a few weeks later was proclaimed dead and thrown into the dungeons with a metal mask.” Sora says with sadness. “He was six.”

Fury burned within Mihawk as he thought about how the boy often put his hands on his hair and seemed surprised. The one uncovered blue eye always widened as he furled and unfurled a hand in his hair. How often he would just do it concerned Mihawk and he actually asked the boy if he wanted a hat and Sanji ran away.

“Two years later we crossed the Red Line into the East Blue and I had managed to break us both out by stealing several sets of keys and we made it onto a cruise ship where we worked. I don't know if they think we're dead or what but the mask was left in his cell.” Sora explains. “I don't know whether or not they'll come after us, truly. Maybe they think we're dead. They probably wouldn't care either way.”

“Then stay. I want you both here.” Mihawk says again and Sora looks at him with a smile.

“Until you tell us to leave.” She nods.

“Never.” Mihawk assures her with the confidence he held in in most things these days. Sora nods again and goes back to playing and Mihawk goes back to his book as Sanji runs into the room and hurriedly says something to Sora in their native tongue. Mihawk could only catch glimpses of what was said before Sanji ran back out.

“He seems to like it here.” Mihawk says lightly. A small grin on his face as he looks at the door that Sanji had run through.

“He does, we both do.” Sora agrees. Mihawk nodded and the night continued on. Later Sanji joins them to read and mumbles to himself in his native tongue. The hard constants softer and the vowels rolled easily from his mouth. When Sanji rubs his eyes and Mihawk picks him up to carry to his room, the boy flinches slightly and Mihawk rubs his back to placate him.

“Tell me about your dream?” Mihawk asks gently as he fixes the boy's bed to lay him down.

“The All Blue.” Sanji mumbles. “It has fish from all the blues and more, spices and ingredients never found before. I want to open a restaurant there.”

“You want to be a chef?” Mihawk asks and Sanji nods as Mihawk lays him down and covers him up. “Sleep well, Sanji.” The boy is asleep before he leaves the room and Mihawk lets himself smile slightly as he closes the door.

It hit Mihawk like Yoru to a marine. He is in love with Sora and has basically adopted Sanji in the three and a half months they've been on the island. Sanji had agreed to training but he looked as if he dreaded every moment of it. Mihawk learned very quickly Sanji would rather not fight with swords. Or use his hands.

“A cook needs their hands.” Sanji explains as he and Mihawk make lunch.

“They do, and you need to know how to defend yourself so we'll come up with something.” Mihawk responds simply so Sanji nodded. The world was unkind and having a connection to one Dracule Mihawk is exceptionally dangerous. Mihawk took a softer approach to training with Sanji, often helping the boy up and dusting him off, explaining what he had done well, what needed work.

Lunch was quick and Sora had come in just before they sat down to eat to wash her hands. Mihawk had also found himself enjoying putting Sora into finer dresses that she wore an apron with as she went around and cleaned. Sanji often wore training clothes at all times, enjoying how soft and loose they were. He is very flexible and could hold some rather tense extensions of his limbs that made him fit to join Buggy the Clown’s crew.

“How did training go today?” Sora asks as she sat down next to Mihawk and Sanji sat across from her with his own plate.

“Very well, it's just a matter of finding a fighting style that fits with him, he has the skill to become a weapons master of any sort.” Mihawk answers while setting both his and Sora's plates down and taking his own seat.

“That's good, we could do some research later.” Sora suggests and Sanji nods as they start eating. Lunch was pleasant, all their meals were.

“I love you both.” Spilled from Mihawk's mouth like the blood of a humandrill that had misbehaved on the island. The quiet was throat clenching as Sanji and Sora quickly try to cover their shock and Sora somehow managed to straighten her spine more.

“I'm not quite sure we heard-” Sora started.

“You both know very well I don't lie.” Mihawk interrupted her. “To be frank it explains why I would rather you both call this your home.”

“Right.” Sora nods. “I think we should save our conversation for after dinner, okay?” She pat Mihawk's arm and he nods as well.

“Very well.” He agrees, not knowing exactly where that particular conversation would land. Lunch was awkward after that and he couldn't quite pin down either of them until dinner preparations when he and Sanji had started making pasta and a red sauce.

“My father never told me he loved me.” Sanji says without much ado.

“He's a fool.” Mihawk replies.

“I'm a failure to him.” Sanji shot back. “I'm not like my siblings. When my siblings figured it out they were never stopped when it came to me.”

“What do you mean?” Mihawk asks.

“Niji broke my ankle while Yonji and Ichiji held me down,” Sanji shrugs, “we were three.” He continues as if it was common place, and perhaps it was.

“They had no right.” Mihawk says, taking in a deep breath to quell his anger.

“My father said they could.” Sanji shrugs again as if that excuses any of it. Mihawk decides not to argue as they start rolling out the pasta and decide on what type of noodles they want to make.

“So you want to be my dad?” Sanji asks after a bit.

“If you'd have me.” Mihawk answers.

Sanji nodded with a small smile. “I would like that.”

“Then as long as it's okay with your mother, I would like it too.” Mihawk nods as they continue cooking. “Go get your mother, I'll plate up and bring it out.” Sanji nods and is out of the room like a lightning crack, his wiry limbs nimble and sharp angled. Dinner was no more out of the normal than usual, they talked and chatted, Mihawk relayed the news from the paper to them.

“Sanji, will you do the dishes?” Sora asks and Sanji nods as he gathers up the empty plates and cups and walks to the kitchen. Mihawk folded the newspaper and set it in his lap, giving Sora his full attention.

“I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable at lunch.” Mihawk apologises.

“You never do things by halves do you?” Sora asks instead of acknowledging his apology.

“Not particularly.” He answers.

“This is why you don't want us to leave?” She confirms with a nod from Mihawk. “Sanji already considers you a better father than Judge.” She sighs out.

“We talked about it during dinner preparations. I also understand if it's too much too soon.” Mihawk says. “You've both been through a lot.”

“I guess I'm more confused about how you love us?” Sora asks.

“I consider Sanji my son, and I love you as if you are my wife. I understand how that may seem off putting but you may choose how to respond and there will be no ill will.” Mihawk answers and the emotions swirling in Sora's eyes are unreadable. “I've already said I want you both here and to not leave, to call this place home. I want to care for you both.”

“Do you know what you are asking for?” Sora asks as she reaches for one of his hands which he easily let her hold.

“I know I am asking to stay with you both however you choose, whatever that may look like.” Mihawk answers and Sora nods as she holds his hand tighter. He squeezes back lightly. “However you two want to do this, I will follow.”

“Thank you, Dracule.” She smiles and he lets the smallest smile show back. It was a good feeling to have, to know that he wasn't rejected but the slow going of whatever may be coming was enough to keep him quelled. They moved to the sitting room with the piano where Sanji eventually joined them. Sora played the piano as Mihawk read a book on North Blue language and Sanji pointed at a line in the book and repeated it in North Blue.

“I'm learning, I don't know what you said.” Mihawk says, giving the boy an amused look. He says something else in North Blue with a teasing grin as he leaves the room. Mihawk sent a questioning look to Sora who simply smiled at the piano as she kept playing, no answer was given as the night went on normally.

#black leg sanji #vinsmoke sora #vinsmoke sanji #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x sora #hawkeye mihawk #my writing #north blue language

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fairlyabookie · 1 year

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Rivalry

Author's note: Day 15 of February Prompts! Enjoy!

Content: Childhood friends with a mean streak

“Last one to reach the dining hall would have to wash the dishes!”

[Reader] prompts, mischief tinging their words. Though Silver wasn’t the competitive type, they would often draw it out with an incentive.

“You’re on.”

He steadies himself, his eyes locked onto his competitor.

“On your marks, get set,”

“Go!”

The two launch into a sprint, weaving past indignant servants carrying all sorts of baggage for the dues, flustered scholars with papers flying out of their hands, and astute politicians who would glare or affectionately titter from the youths’ ventures. Both Silver and [Reader] didn’t pay any heed, only wanting to see who could best each other in the flight of foot. Silver couldn’t tell who was faster - unless one of them cheated by proceeding to the other route - they were equals in finesse. A sneaking thought passed him, an urge to test his theory. He pushes forward, eliciting an indignant remark from [Reader]. They attempt to catch up, but to no avail. Turning a sharp corner to a hallway highlighting dynastic familial ties with grandiose portraits and gorgeous paintings, they attempt to regain their footing, muttering a profanity when they almost trip on a statue of their father. Silver had to stifle a snicker.

“That was not funny!”

Any thought of teasing further had extinguished when he glimpsed a murderous expression by [Reader]’s features. He wouldn’t dare instigate more of [Reader]’s competitive spirit. Entering a spacious hall utilized for ballrooms, open political discussion, they ignore disciplinary threat from ongoing individuals visiting the estate campus. An overview of the training grounds could be seen from the north, an open space for sparring and practicing drills. Silver spared a glimpse over to [Reader], who was still running. In a normal day, they’d suggest the open field at the training grounds as the goal, but perhaps they wanted something to eat from the kitchens.

Just as Silver had anticipated, the two arrived in the dining hall - and, to [Reader]s dismay, Silver had won the round.

“Darn, should’ve used the shortcut!”

[Reader] mutters under their breath, clicking their tongue.

“That wouldn’t be fair, you know. We said to have a fair race, didn’t we?”

This point deepened the frown by [Reader]’s lips.

“Next time, it’ll be you to wash the dishes.”

Silver didn’t say anything else, only a light-hearted smile by his lips. They had already lost to Silver, and so the shame of losing weighed heavily on their shoulders. Next time, he’ll let them win..

~ ~ ~ ~

The jog rendered them famished, [Reader] complaining about the “hassle” of making food for the both of them. Yet, here they were, cooking alongside with Silver. They eye a steaming broth full of boiling vegetables, their skins tender from marinating in the water. A pleasant fragrance emanates from the soup.

“Hey, you don’t have to help me with the cooking. I can handle it myself, thank you.”

[Reader] hip-bumps their friend. He remains unfazed, throwing them a side glance before returning the banter:

“I’m cutting the vegetables, [Reader]. It would serve you well if you don’t do anything brash when I have a knife at hand.”

They scowl, nearly attempting to hip-bump their rival again. In a moment, they decide against it, feigning decorum.

“Do as you will. I’m not going to try anything suspicious.”

“I see you were about to hip-bump me again.”

Silver quips. The poor [Reader]’s patience was thinning quite significantly. Despite his indifferent expressions, Silver had a penchant for unintentionally provoking tempers.

“You-!”

[Reader] really hated that Silver could read their mind.

“[Reader], Silver! There you are! I was looking for you two!”

An incoming voice, which the two had recognized as a royal servant, was an instant cue for them to restore some dignity from their banter. We’ll deal with each other later.

For now, they feign a warm welcome to the servant, Lilia, with cordial smiles.

#twst x reader #twst silver #silver #handle with care

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hellsitesonlybookclub · 1 year

Text

20k Leagues under the Sea, Jules Verne

Chapters 3 and 4

<< PREVIOUS

CHAPTER III

I FORM MY RESOLUTION

Three seconds before the arrival of J. B. Hobson’s letter, I no more thought of pursuing the unicorn than of attempting the passage of the North Sea. Three seconds after reading the letter of the honourable Secretary of Marine, I felt that my true vocation, the sole end of my life, was to chase this disturbing monster, and purge it from the world.

But I had just returned from a fatiguing journey, weary and longing for repose. I aspired to nothing more than again seeing my country, my friends, my little lodging by the Jardin des Plantes, my dear and precious collections. But nothing could keep me back! I forgot all—fatigue, friends and collections—and accepted without hesitation the offer of the American Government.

“Besides,” thought I, “all roads lead back to Europe (for my particular benefit), and I will not hurry me towards the coast of France. This worthy animal may allow itself to be caught in the seas of Europe (for my particular benefit), and I will not bring back less than half a yard of his ivory halberd to the Museum of Natural History.” But in the meanwhile I must seek this narwhal in the North Pacific Ocean, which, to return to France, was taking the road to the antipodes.

“Conseil,” I called in an impatient voice.

Conseil was my servant, a true, devoted Flemish boy, who had accompanied me in all my travels. I liked him, and he returned the liking well. He was phlegmatic by nature, regular from principle, zealous from habit, evincing little disturbance at the different surprises of life, very quick with his hands, and apt at any service required of him; and, despite his name, never giving advice—even when asked for it.

Conseil had followed me for the last ten years wherever science led. Never once did he complain of the length or fatigue of a journey, never make an objection to pack his portmanteau for whatever country it might be, or however far away, whether China or Congo. Besides all this, he had good health, which defied all sickness, and solid muscles, but no nerves; good morals are understood. This boy was thirty years old, and his age to that of his master as fifteen to twenty. May I be excused for saying that I was forty years old?

But Conseil had one fault: he was ceremonious to a degree, and would never speak to me but in the third person, which was sometimes provoking.

“Conseil,” said I again, beginning with feverish hands to make preparations for my departure.

Certainly I was sure of this devoted boy. As a rule, I never asked him if it were convenient for him or not to follow me in my travels; but this time the expedition in question might be prolonged, and the enterprise might be hazardous in pursuit of an animal capable of sinking a frigate as easily as a nutshell. Here there was matter for reflection even to the most impassive man in the world. What would Conseil say?

“Conseil,” I called a third time.

Conseil appeared.

“Did you call, sir?” said he, entering.

“Yes, my boy; make preparations for me and yourself too. We leave in two hours.”

“As you please, sir,” replied Conseil, quietly.

“Not an instant to lose;—lock in my trunk all travelling utensils, coats, shirts, and stockings—without counting, as many as you can, and make haste.”

“And your collections, sir?” observed Conseil.

“We will think of them by and by.”

“What! the archiotherium, the hyracotherium, the oreodons, the cheropotamus, and the other skins?”

“They will keep them at the hotel.”

“And your live Babiroussa, sir?”

“They will feed it during our absence; besides, I will give orders to forward our menagerie to France.”

“We are not returning to Paris, then?” said Conseil.

“Oh! certainly,” I answered, evasively, “by making a curve.”

“Will the curve please you, sir?”

“Oh! it will be nothing; not quite so direct a road, that is all. We take our passage in the Abraham Lincoln.”

“As you think proper, sir,” coolly replied Conseil.

“You see, my friend, it has to do with the monster—the famous narwhal. We are going to purge it from the seas. The author of a work in quarto in two volumes, on the ‘Mysteries of the Great Submarine Grounds’ cannot forbear embarking with Commander Farragut. A glorious mission, but a dangerous one! We cannot tell where we may go; these animals can be very capricious. But we will go whether or no; we have got a captain who is pretty wide-awake.”

I opened a credit account for Babiroussa, and, Conseil following, I jumped into a cab. Our luggage was transported to the deck of the frigate immediately. I hastened on board and asked for Commander Farragut. One of the sailors conducted me to the poop, where I found myself in the presence of a good-looking officer, who held out his hand to me.

“Monsieur Pierre Aronnax?” said he.

“Himself,” replied I; “Commander Farragut?”

“You are welcome, Professor; your cabin is ready for you.”

I bowed, and desired to be conducted to the cabin destined for me.

The Abraham Lincoln had been well chosen and equipped for her new destination. She was a frigate of great speed, fitted with high-pressure engines which admitted a pressure of seven atmospheres. Under this the Abraham Lincoln attained the mean speed of nearly eighteen knots and a third an hour—a considerable speed, but, nevertheless, insufficient to grapple with this gigantic cetacean.

The interior arrangements of the frigate corresponded to its nautical qualities. I was well satisfied with my cabin, which was in the after part, opening upon the gunroom.

“We shall be well off here,” said I to Conseil.

“As well, by your honour’s leave, as a hermit-crab in the shell of a whelk,” said Conseil.

I left Conseil to stow our trunks conveniently away, and remounted the poop in order to survey the preparations for departure.

At that moment Commander Farragut was ordering the last moorings to be cast loose which held the Abraham Lincoln to the pier of Brooklyn. So in a quarter of an hour, perhaps less, the frigate would have sailed without me. I should have missed this extraordinary, supernatural, and incredible expedition, the recital of which may well meet with some scepticism.

But Commander Farragut would not lose a day nor an hour in scouring the seas in which the animal had been sighted. He sent for the engineer.

“Is the steam full on?” asked he.

“Yes, sir,” replied the engineer.

“Go ahead,” cried Commander Farragut.

The quay of Brooklyn, and all that part of New York bordering on the East River, was crowded with spectators. Three cheers burst successively from five hundred thousand throats; thousands of handkerchiefs were waved above the heads of the compact mass, saluting the Abraham Lincoln, until she reached the waters of the Hudson, at the point of that elongated peninsula which forms the town of New York. Then the frigate, following the coast of New Jersey along the right bank of the beautiful river, covered with villas, passed between the forts, which saluted her with their heaviest guns. The Abraham Lincoln answered by hoisting the American colours three times, whose thirty-nine stars shone resplendent from the mizzen-peak; then modifying its speed to take the narrow channel marked by buoys placed in the inner bay formed by Sandy Hook Point, it coasted the long sandy beach, where some thousands of spectators gave it one final cheer. The escort of boats and tenders still followed the frigate, and did not leave her until they came abreast of the lightship, whose two lights marked the entrance of New York Channel.

Six bells struck, the pilot got into his boat, and rejoined the little schooner which was waiting under our lee, the fires were made up, the screw beat the waves more rapidly, the frigate skirted the low yellow coast of Long Island; and at eight bells, after having lost sight in the north-west of the lights of Fire Island, she ran at full steam on to the dark waters of the Atlantic.

CHAPTER IV

NED LAND

Captain Farragut was a good seaman, worthy of the frigate he commanded. His vessel and he were one. He was the soul of it. On the question of the cetacean there was no doubt in his mind, and he would not allow the existence of the animal to be disputed on board. He believed in it, as certain good women believe in the leviathan—by faith, not by reason. The monster did exist, and he had sworn to rid the seas of it. He was a kind of Knight of Rhodes, a second Dieudonné de Gozon, going to meet the serpent which desolated the island. Either Captain Farragut would kill the narwhal, or the narwhal would kill the captain. There was no third course.

The officers on board shared the opinion of their chief. They were ever chatting, discussing, and calculating the various chances of a meeting, watching narrowly the vast surface of the ocean. More than one took up his quarters voluntarily in the cross-trees, who would have cursed such a berth under any other circumstances. As long as the sun described its daily course, the rigging was crowded with sailors, whose feet were burnt to such an extent by the heat of the deck as to render it unbearable; still the Abraham Lincoln had not yet breasted the suspected waters of the Pacific. As to the ship’s company, they desired nothing better than to meet the unicorn, to harpoon it, hoist it on board, and despatch it. They watched the sea with eager attention.

Besides, Captain Farragut had spoken of a certain sum of two thousand dollars, set apart for whoever should first sight the monster, were he cabin-boy, common seaman, or officer.

I leave you to judge how eyes were used on board the Abraham Lincoln.

For my own part I was not behind the others, and left to no one my share of daily observations. The frigate might have been called the Argus, for a hundred reasons. Only one amongst us, Conseil, seemed to protest by his indifference against the question which so interested us all, and seemed to be out of keeping with the general enthusiasm on board.

I have said that Captain Farragut had carefully provided his ship with every apparatus for catching the gigantic cetacean. No whaler had ever been better armed. We possessed every known engine, from the harpoon thrown by the hand to the barbed arrows of the blunderbuss, and the explosive balls of the duck-gun. On the forecastle lay the perfection of a breech-loading gun, very thick at the breech, and very narrow in the bore, the model of which had been in the Exhibition of 1867. This precious weapon of American origin could throw with ease a conical projectile of nine pounds to a mean distance of ten miles.

Thus the Abraham Lincoln wanted for no means of destruction; and, what was better still, she had on board Ned Land, the prince of harpooners.

Ned Land was a Canadian, with an uncommon quickness of hand, and who knew no equal in his dangerous occupation. Skill, coolness, audacity, and cunning he possessed in a superior degree, and it must be a cunning whale or a singularly “cute” cachalot to escape the stroke of his harpoon.

Ned Land was about forty years of age; he was a tall man (more than six feet high), strongly built, grave and taciturn, occasionally violent, and very passionate when contradicted. His person attracted attention, but above all the boldness of his look, which gave a singular expression to his face.

Who calls himself Canadian calls himself French; and, little communicative as Ned Land was, I must admit that he took a certain liking for me. My nationality drew him to me, no doubt. It was an opportunity for him to talk, and for me to hear, that old language of Rabelais, which is still in use in some Canadian provinces. The harpooner’s family was originally from Quebec, and was already a tribe of hardy fishermen when this town belonged to France.

Little by little, Ned Land acquired a taste for chatting, and I loved to hear the recital of his adventures in the polar seas. He related his fishing, and his combats, with natural poetry of expression; his recital took the form of an epic poem, and I seemed to be listening to a Canadian Homer singing the Iliad of the regions of the North.

I am portraying this hardy companion as I really knew him. We are old friends now, united in that unchangeable friendship which is born and cemented amidst extreme dangers. Ah, brave Ned! I ask no more than to live a hundred years longer, that I may have more time to dwell the longer on your memory.

Now, what was Ned Land’s opinion upon the question of the marine monster? I must admit that he did not believe in the unicorn, and was the only one on board who did not share that universal conviction. He even avoided the subject, which I one day thought it my duty to press upon him. One magnificent evening, the 30th of July—that is to say, three weeks after our departure—the frigate was abreast of Cape Blanc, thirty miles to leeward of the coast of Patagonia. We had crossed the tropic of Capricorn, and the Straits of Magellan opened less than seven hundred miles to the south. Before eight days were over the Abraham Lincoln would be ploughing the waters of the Pacific.

Seated on the poop, Ned Land and I were chatting of one thing and another as we looked at this mysterious sea, whose great depths had up to this time been inaccessible to the eye of man. I naturally led up the conversation to the giant unicorn, and examined the various chances of success or failure of the expedition. But, seeing that Ned Land let me speak without saying too much himself, I pressed him more closely.

“Well, Ned,” said I, “is it possible that you are not convinced of the existence of this cetacean that we are following? Have you any particular reason for being so incredulous?”

The harpooner looked at me fixedly for some moments before answering, struck his broad forehead with his hand (a habit of his), as if to collect himself, and said at last, “Perhaps I have, Mr. Aronnax.”

“But, Ned, you, a whaler by profession, familiarised with all the great marine mammalia—you, whose imagination might easily accept the hypothesis of enormous cetaceans, you ought to be the last to doubt under such circumstances!”

“That is just what deceives you, Professor,” replied Ned. “That the vulgar should believe in extraordinary comets traversing space, and in the existence of antediluvian monsters in the heart of the globe, may well be; but neither astronomer nor geologist believes in such chimeras. As a whaler I have followed many a cetacean, harpooned a great number, and killed several; but, however strong or well-armed they may have been, neither their tails nor their weapons would have been able even to scratch the iron plates of a steamer.”

“But, Ned, they tell of ships which the teeth of the narwhal have pierced through and through.”

“Wooden ships—that is possible,” replied the Canadian, “but I have never seen it done; and, until further proof, I deny that whales, cetaceans, or sea-unicorns could ever produce the effect you describe.”

“Well, Ned, I repeat it with a conviction resting on the logic of facts. I believe in the existence of a mammal power fully organised, belonging to the branch of vertebrata, like the whales, the cachalots, or the dolphins, and furnished with a horn of defence of great penetrating power.”

“Hum!” said the harpooner, shaking his head with the air of a man who would not be convinced.

“Notice one thing, my worthy Canadian,” I resumed. “If such an animal is in existence, if it inhabits the depths of the ocean, if it frequents the strata lying miles below the surface of the water, it must necessarily possess an organisation the strength of which would defy all comparison.”

“And why this powerful organisation?” demanded Ned.

“Because it requires incalculable strength to keep one’s self in these strata and resist their pressure. Listen to me. Let us admit that the pressure of the atmosphere is represented by the weight of a column of water thirty-two feet high. In reality the column of water would be shorter, as we are speaking of sea water, the density of which is greater than that of fresh water. Very well, when you dive, Ned, as many times thirty-two feet of water as there are above you, so many times does your body bear a pressure equal to that of the atmosphere, that is to say, 15 lbs. for each square inch of its surface. It follows, then, that at 320 feet this pressure = that of 10 atmospheres, of 100 atmospheres at 3200 feet, and of 1000 atmospheres at 32,000 feet, that is, about 6 miles; which is equivalent to saying that if you could attain this depth in the ocean, each square three-eighths of an inch of the surface of your body would bear a pressure of 5600 lbs. Ah! my brave Ned, do you know how many square inches you carry on the surface of your body?”

“I have no idea, Mr. Aronnax.”

“About 6500; and, as in reality the atmospheric pressure is about 15 lbs. to the square inch, your 6500 square inches bear at this moment a pressure of 97,500 lbs.”

“Without my perceiving it?”

“Without your perceiving it. And if you are not crushed by such a pressure, it is because the air penetrates the interior of your body with equal pressure. Hence perfect equilibrium between the interior and exterior pressure, which thus neutralise each other, and which allows you to bear it without inconvenience. But in the water it is another thing.”

“Yes, I understand,” replied Ned, becoming more attentive; “because the water surrounds me, but does not penetrate.”

“Precisely, Ned: so that at 32 feet beneath the surface of the sea you would undergo a pressure of 97,500 lbs.; at 320 feet, ten times that pressure; at 3200 feet, a hundred times that pressure; lastly, at 32,000 feet, a thousand times that pressure would be 97,500,000 lbs.—that is to say, that you would be flattened as if you had been drawn from the plates of a hydraulic machine!”

“The devil!” exclaimed Ned.

“Very well, my worthy harpooner, if some vertebrate, several hundred yards long, and large in proportion, can maintain itself in such depths—of those whose surface is represented by millions of square inches, that is by tens of millions of pounds, we must estimate the pressure they undergo. Consider, then, what must be the resistance of their bony structure, and the strength of their organisation to withstand such pressure!”

“Why!” exclaimed Ned Land, “they must be made of iron plates eight inches thick, like the armoured frigates.”

“As you say, Ned. And think what destruction such a mass would cause, if hurled with the speed of an express train against the hull of a vessel.”

“Yes—certainly—perhaps,” replied the Canadian, shaken by these figures, but not yet willing to give in.

“Well, have I convinced you?”

“You have convinced me of one thing, sir, which is that, if such animals do exist at the bottom of the seas, they must necessarily be as strong as you say.”

“But if they do not exist, mine obstinate harpooner, how explain the accident to the Scotia?”

NEXT >>

#hellsitesonlybookclub #bookblr #books #jules verne #20k leagues under the sea #20000 leagues under the sea

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roguehqs · 7 months

Text

𝒄𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 ⸻ 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐨 . . .

⌕ . ˚ ⅋. 「 jung hoyeon. thirty. cis woman. she/her/hers. 」 kang min-ji was recruited as a phantom for the libertalia nine years ago and was given the codename: calypso for their devoted but indignant behavior, typical for the scorpio. while preparing for a heist they listen to she’s my collar by gorillaz and don’t dare to leave without their most trusted item: a golden choker necklace centered with an uncut ruby.

hi, hello ! my name is lauryn and i use she/her/hers as pronouns. i'm twenty-three and i'm currently in the cst timezone ! below i have an expanded tldr for min-ji, and a massive biography linked at the way bottom if you'd like to know more ! i know introductions can be overwhelming, so i tried to condense info as much as i could ! to try and make matters a little easier, i've also linked a connections page below that has some ideas. thanks in advance and i'm so excited to be writing with everyone !

BACKGROUND . . .

[ ! ] TRIGGER WARNING : child neglect, poverty, theft, burglary & robberies, legal system

⸻ ┊ 0 0 1 › min-ji was born in fort pierce, florida. her parents were basically mariners and weren't prepared for a kid, financially or otherwise. to keep the family afloat, her parents worked a lot and min-ji was often left in the care of others. this left min-ji with little surveillance and a lot of independence from a young age.

⸻ ┊ 0 0 2 › grew up around lots of water and learned not to make a ruckus. quietly acted out by stealing, which she got really good at doing. sadly, min-ji had to really be the one to look out for herself in her childhood. she became very sneaky as a result, and loved to see what she could get away with.

⸻ ┊ 0 0 3 › her desire to figure things out and trick the public culminated in reading mystery novels and lock picking. she snuck off to the port a lot and was more conspicuous but had less surveillance as she got older. min-ji also made a friend! his name was mateo

⸻ ┊ 0 0 4 › cue heartfelt tale of childhood friends with similar circumstances and interests. then, min-ji and mateo started doing delinquent stuff and spent a lot of time at the port. eventually, they met william jr, an older teen who did boat tours. BAM get rich quick scheme: find blackbeard's treasure

⸻ ┊ 0 0 5 › william sr got in on this and what started out as a dumb idea actually got super serious (tons of context and logistics in the biography + a heck of an adventure story) eventually, the group took off to north carolina after min-ji graduated.

⸻ ┊ 0 0 6 › they eventually found blackbeard's treasure on portsmouth island following a wild adventure where each member had a specific role. min-ji's role was mostly gathering funds in the early stages by illegal means, and later getting the group through difficult places without getting spotted.

⸻ ┊ 0 0 7 › north carolina laws say you can't keep treasure, so they stashed some away for themselves and fenced/laundered it through a shady lawyer that also represented them in their legal case to have a legal claim on the treasure that they left behind. the other three members of the group were pretty hellbent on having some notoriety from their finding and doing the right thing which is why they didn't take it all for themselves... min-ji, not so much

⸻ ┊ 0 0 8 › after this, the group went their separate ways and min-ji felt abandoned. she began committing robberies out of bitterness and playing that old childhood game of how much can she get away with, and it turns out... a lot. but she was lonely and sad. the group lost their legal battle and edward teach's treasure was left in possession of the state of north carolina.

⸻ ┊ 0 0 9 › at that point, the group reunited for a drink and min-ji admitted to her recent criminal activities. she was chastised for it and the wills + mateo admitted that they parted ways because they had trouble dealing with the guilt and fear that came from their stolen treasure and subsequent criminal activities. min-ji seemed to seek out these situations and she was angry at them, and angry at the system that failed her.

⸻ ┊ 0 1 0 › the day after the case was settled, she was recruited for the libertalia (age 21). she accepted within a day after being given assurances of the legitimacy of the group. min-ji joined because she wanted to belong and feel valued and use her talents. she missed being a part of something. and she was good at what she did!

⸻ ┊ 0 1 1 › in the nine years since then, min-ji has really grown up. she enjoys being a part of the group and thrives in her position. a mentor took her under their wing and really honed her skills. her strengths lie in gear-oriented things like climbing, as well as traversing security-heavy, cramped, or difficult to navigate paths undetected. she is happier nowadays, naturally charismatic and playful. min-ji can be soft spoken before you get to know her. has a reputation for scaring people by sneaking up on them and messing with people when she's bored. she is a sneaky (kinda manipulative) gal and a wonderful ally, but a horrible enemy to have.

PERSONALITY . . .

⸻ ┊ 0 0 1 › min-ji is a menace. they’re destructive and often don’t have the best moral compass, so they tend to do things for themselves or those that they’re loyal to. she can also come off as a little angsty at times. she has a narrow world view in the way that people that don’t matter to her, they don’t matter at all. her childhood was rocky and involved absent parents, and all she really wants is to fit in. the libertalia has been a dream in that regard, and min-ji is fully devoted to the group as a whole, and its members. if you ever need to hide a body, she’s your gal.

⸻ ┊ 0 0 2 › when she does find people that she cares about, min-ji is compassionate and doting. she will often act playful and easygoing around familiar faces. while min-ji may have bad intentions as a whole, her intentions when it comes to her friends are pure and wholesome. her kindness is highly selective. though a lot of her socializing is often about what she can get out of it, she tries to make sure others have their needs met as well. in a way, people are just entertainment to her, but they are necessary in order to keep her content and relatively well behaved.

⸻ ┊ 0 0 3 › min-ji’s demeanor can change depending on who she is interacting with. if she isn’t familiar with them, she is more likely to be standoffish. min-ji can also come off as a little weird, as she isn’t afraid to speak her mind or act how she would like to. sometimes this involves pranking or scaring people for her own amusement. she possesses a confidence and self-awareness that has led to a strong knowledge of her own identity. as a result, tearing her down or trying to manipulate her isn’t likely to work. min-ji, herself, can be incredibly manipulative, and enjoys messing with people and making them squirm.

biography. statistics. headcanons. playlist. wanted connections.

#at:intro

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artemiseamoon · 1 year

Text

Stay in the Light 1

William Johns x Ofc | fic info here

Words: 3,060

Warnings: drinking, sex, chronic pain, addiction

😂 I know, this is purely for me and the maybe one other person in the world who might read it. Gotta find joy in life right? Writing random characters gives me joy atm. Pitch Black adjacent stuff doesn’t happen til chapter 2. This is planned to be 3 chapters.

Gif credits to the owner

This is a preview * read in full on A03

BEFORE

This planet doesn't offer much; it was a shit hole, like most places. Anyone still going got used to this kind of thing, few had the luxury of stepping foot on a nice planet. One needs rich friends and important high-level connections for that kind of thing, or they're born into it.

When you make your living catching escapees, you make enemies, not friends, especially not friends in high places even if they’re the ones who hired you in the first place. Sure, they'll be appreciative, especially if you caught some asshole they’ve been tracking for years. But what you won’t get is an invitation to dinner or private island trips.

This place was just a pit stop before heading to Central and getting her newest job. Until then, Kiara didn’t plan on doing much. She got a decent room in a better part of town, north of the red-light district and east of the canal where all sorts of shady shit went down. She would hold up in the sweet spot, far away from all the drama yet close to the transit terminal.

She would sleep, take a long soaking bath maybe - do all the things she couldn't while on mission. Maybe if the right kind of person comes along, she'd get laid too, it has been a while. Lots of people hooked up on the mission, the men, women, and everyone in between. It happened often whether it was in the dark or behind closed doors yet barely hidden.

The job was dangerous enough, no need to add a mess of human emotions into the whole thing. Most of the men Kiara was posted with were pieces of shit, so it made it easy to adhere to this rule. Then, there were the few times she’d considered, but would never follow through with it. Besides, she liked to focus just on the task at hand and take care of her personal needs once the job was done, even if it meant waiting for a while.

Reaching her two-drink limit for the night, Kiara kicked back in the booth with her legs extended across the open seat, so no one got any ideas. If anyone was going to keep company with her, she’d extend the invite herself.

There was one-sided interest coming from a few onlookers, but no one caught her eye until a new guy walked through the doors and headed to the bar. There was a serious look on his face, and he carried himself like a marine officer, even with his plain clothes on.

Once at the bar, he scanned the room, his blue eyes cold and observant - then his eyes met hers. He seemed clean cut, with no facial hair, the hair on his head was dark blonde and a slight reddish undertone and cut short. There was something intense and broody about him, but it didn’t take away from his handsomeness.

His blue eyes stayed fixed on her until the bartender came to him. He turned slightly, his back to Kiara as he made his order. She took another sip, this time eyeing up his form and the way the long-sleeved black top fit perfectly, highlighting how fit he was - but not overly so. There were no bulging muscles or mass- she wasn’t into that kind of thing anyway.

The blue-eyed man turned in his seat, looking back at her again, this time with a beer in his hand. Kiara sat up from her slouching position and slowly lifted one leg off the seat, then the other.

A slight grin ticked on his lips. He stood and made his way over to her, not in a rush, nor a hurry. As he reached the table, Kiara relaxed against the padding and took him in.

He slid into the booth, and leaned back as his eyes raked over her,

“Johns.” he said when they made eye contact again.

“Mora.” she raised her glass, eyes still locked on his as he clicked his beer to it.

Not breaking eye contact, they both brought their drinks to their lips.

Read in full on A03

@artemiseamoon-updates | A03: artemiseamoon

#William J. Johns #William John (Pitch Dark)#William J. Johns x ofc #pitch black au

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20k-leagues-speedrun · 1 year

Text

CHAPTER III I FORM MY RESOLUTION

“Conseil,” I called in an impatient voice.

But Conseil had one fault: he was ceremonious to a degree, and would never speak to me but in the third person, which was sometimes provoking.

“Conseil,” said I again, beginning with feverish hands to make preparations for my departure.

“Conseil,” I called a third time.

Conseil appeared.

“Did you call, sir?” said he, entering.

“Yes, my boy; make preparations for me and yourself too. We leave in two hours.”

“As you please, sir,” replied Conseil, quietly.

“Not an instant to lose;—lock in my trunk all travelling utensils, coats, shirts, and stockings—without counting, as many as you can, and make haste.”

“And your collections, sir?” observed Conseil.

“We will think of them by and by.”

“What! the archiotherium, the hyracotherium, the oreodons, the cheropotamus, and the other skins?”

“They will keep them at the hotel.”

“And your live Babiroussa, sir?”

“They will feed it during our absence; besides, I will give orders to forward our menagerie to France.”

“We are not returning to Paris, then?” said Conseil.

“Oh! certainly,” I answered, evasively, “by making a curve.”

“Will the curve please you, sir?”

“Oh! it will be nothing; not quite so direct a road, that is all. We take our passage in the Abraham Lincoln.”

“As you think proper, sir,” coolly replied Conseil.

“Monsieur Pierre Aronnax?” said he.

“Himself,” replied I; “Commander Farragut?”

“You are welcome, Professor; your cabin is ready for you.”

I bowed, and desired to be conducted to the cabin destined for me.

The interior arrangements of the frigate corresponded to its nautical qualities. I was well satisfied with my cabin, which was in the after part, opening upon the gunroom.

“We shall be well off here,” said I to Conseil.

“As well, by your honour’s leave, as a hermit-crab in the shell of a whelk,” said Conseil.

I left Conseil to stow our trunks conveniently away, and remounted the poop in order to survey the preparations for departure.

But Commander Farragut would not lose a day nor an hour in scouring the seas in which the animal had been sighted. He sent for the engineer.

“Is the steam full on?” asked he.

“Yes, sir,” replied the engineer.

“Go ahead,” cried Commander Farragut.

#20k leagues speedrun #20000 leagues under the sea #chapter 3

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borglocksblog · 2 years

Link

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travelguide10 · 8 months

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Dive with care and witness the beauty of Scuba Dive Goa!

Want to explore the treasure locked in a realm covered with water? Witness a lifestyle and ecosystem completely different from our world which has its essence and beauty.

Then, scuba diving in north Goa and the surrounding part offers an enchanting opportunity to explore the mesmerizing underwater world, with its vibrant marine life, colourful corals, and captivating shipwrecks. While the thrill of diving is undeniable, ensuring your safety is paramount.

Whether you’re a seasoned diver or a newbie, following these safety tips will help you dive smart and safely during your scuba Diving and water sports in Goa.

1. Choose a Reputable Dive Operator:

Start your diving journey by selecting a reputable and certified dive operator. Research their reputation, read reviews, and inquire about their safety protocols. A professional dive centre will prioritize your safety by providing well-maintained equipment and experienced instructors. To experience the best scuba diving in Goa you need a reliable dive operator with you.

So choose wisely.

2. Get Proper Training:

If you’re new to scuba diving, take a certified diving course before attempting any dives. Even experienced divers should undergo refresher courses if they haven’t dived in a while. Proper training ensures you are familiar with diving techniques, equipment usage, and emergency procedures.

3. Listen to Dive Briefings:

Pay close attention during pre-dive briefings. Instructors will provide valuable information about the dive site, entry and exit procedures, underwater landmarks, potential hazards, and emergency protocols. Following their instructions can prevent misunderstandings and keep you safe.

4. Check Your Equipment:

Before every dive, carefully inspect your diving gear. Ensure your mask, snorkel, regulator, BCD, and tanks are functioning properly. A well-maintained and properly fitted equipment significantly reduces the risk of accidents underwater.

5. Equalize Your Ears:

Equalizing your ears is crucial to avoid ear injuries during your descent. Use the Valsalva manoeuvre or the Frenzel manoeuvre to equalize the pressure in your ears as you descend. Failure to equalize can lead to painful barotrauma.

6. Monitor Your Air Supply:

Always have your eye on your air gauge through your dive. Ascend once your tank reaches a safe level, typically around 50 bar (about 700 psi). Always leave yourself enough air to perform a controlled ascent and safety stop.

7. Respect Depth Limits:

Stay within the recommended depth limits for your certification level. Deep dives can increase the risk of nitrogen narcosis and decompression sickness. You must sketch your plans as per your experience and training. Don’t strain your body or challenge more than your body can take.

8. Dive with a Buddy:

Never dive alone. Having a buddy adds an extra layer of safety, as you can assist each other in case of emergencies. Stay close to your buddy, maintain visual contact, and communicate using hand signals.

9. Practice Buoyancy Control:

Mastering buoyancy control helps you navigate underwater with ease and prevents damage to the fragile marine environment. During your scuba dive goa, you will encounter various corals, rocks, aquatic life, and delicate ecosystems. Seeing their beauty and uniqueness can be thrilling but avoid touching them as it can harm them.

10. Know Your Limits:

Honesty with yourself is essential. If you feel uncomfortable, tired, or unwell before or during a dive, don’t hesitate to call it off. Pushing your limits can lead to stress, panic, and accidents.

Safety and enjoyment, the soul sisters:

A proper adventure is a perfect blend of body health and pocket health. So trust us above tips will ensure your safety but regarding your pocket make sure you have done proper research regarding the price scuba diving in Goa before making the booking.

Scuba diving in Goa is an exhilarating experience that allows you to witness the wonders of the underwater world. No matter what type of adventure activities you want to try if it creates danger regarding your safety then you must avoid it. Because safety comes first always. By selecting the right operator, obtaining proper training, staying informed, and following these safety tips, you can enjoy your dive smartly and safely while creating unforgettable memories beneath the waves of Goa’s azure waters.

#scuba diving and water sports in goa #price scuba diving in goa #best scuba diving in goa #scuba diving in north goa #scuba dive goa

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snowgoldwaylon · 3 years

Text

And That's When You Came - Naga X Reader

So this is my first Naga x reader fic, I'm a bit nervous about it y'all. I hope you guys enjoy!

TW: Violence, kidnapping, murder, drugs, strong language.

This time around, druglords were swarming parts of the Jungles around the world. This sometimes made working with the CIA and Marines hard trying to tie up loose ends.

So, of course, you took a leadership role, and assembled a small, efficient team to head out to the Jungle, and clean up some of these businesses.

You had gotten word over enemy comms that there was a possibility of trafficking coming up, just a few days short of today. So you know today was the day to make the right move and head out.

You gathered the team up, and took off right there and then. You had to head Northeast until you reached the heart of the Jungle. The plan was to ambush whoever was doing this and make them lead your team right to the main compound.

After 4 hours of constant flying, your heli touched down a few clicks North of the potential location. You took out the evidence from the comm broadcast and looked around.

The druglords were smart around these areas. They communicated in code. Morse code, to be exact. Thankfully you could read and understand morse code like you could in your native language. Looks like some classes pay off!

You took a minute and looked over the past conversation between these unknown individuals. You read the morse code with ease, and quickly you understood what was said.

'TRIBAL VILLAGE, WEST OF THE RED STREAM. FOLLOW IT 5 CLICKS AND MAKE A SHARP LEFT BY THE SKULLS.'

You felt a sick, sinking feeling when it mentioned skulls. Now you knew that you were about to walk a thin line with danger, or possibly even death.

You looked back at your team who geard up. You turned your radio on and spoke to the one man you could trust.

"Lazar, I might not come back from this. If I don't, please send a search team. I'm about to broadcast you my current coordinates." You said calmly.

"Y/N, you will come back. I promise to come to save your ass myself." Lazar said.

"Appreciate that, I'll keep in touch. 2-3 out." And off your radio went.

You rounded your team up and stood upon a rock so they could hear you loud and clear.

"Okay Strike team, we are going in. You will follow me and my orders, we stay together at all times. This could potentially be a large threat, and I will not have any deaths today. Now, follow me. Keep an eye out for any potential harm. Form the formation we talked about. Always check those corners and look back!" You said, strapping your MP5 around you tightly.

You led your team off in the direction that the morse code told you about. You came to the red stream and decided to take a look around and see if you saw any possible movement or another break in the case.

You took your binoculars and scanned the area. In the distance, you saw a small, white building. It was covered by trees, well hidden if you didn't have good vision.

"Hey Houston, take a look over there, almost 3 and a half inches to the left. See the white building?" You said, handing the binoculars to your teammate.

Houston took them and looked, he turned back to you and nodded.

"I see it. Do you think we should go check it out?" He asked.

You thought for a moment. What if this was another building with possible evidence or even someone in there you could question? You looked back towards him and nodded.

"Yeah, I think we should. Let's get in there and at least check it out. It'll be worth it if we do I think." You reasoned.

He quickly gathered the team, and you made a slow but steady movement towards the building in question. There was no doubt you were nervous, you had a really bad feeling and you weren't sure why.

When you came up to the building, it was a garage. It had a large, retracting door and a small door for someone to walk into. But there was no house, just a garage.

"Okay Houston, we're gonna walk into this place very carefully, and slowly." You said.

After getting confirmation from everyone, you walked up to the small door. You carefully took the handle and twisted it. The door creaked open as if this was some sort of horror movie and the killer finds the person hiding.

You took a few steps in and checked all the corners. Your team followed behind and within minutes, the whole place had gotten a clean sweep. There was nobody to be found. So, you quickly gathered everyone in the middle.

"Okay, so this place is clear. What we are going to do next i-" You were cut off by a large bang.

BANG!

You drew your MP5 and took a protective stance. Suddenly, thats when a loud and frantic banging started to happen. What took you off guard was the cries for help that followed.

"PLEASE HELP, I'M DOWN HERE!" The male voice cried out.

You looked all over the room, and noticed a hatch to what looked like a cellar, the doors chained shut with heavy rocks on top.

"Commander, I don't like the feeling of this..." One of your team, Leon shuttered out.

"Cover me, we must save this man!" You said with no hesitation.

You ran over to the doors, and ripped the rock off with brute strength. You smashed the chains off with the butt of your gun, and yanked them off. You could now open the door.

"Houston, Leon, with me!" You commanded.

They stacked up behind you and took stance. You ripped the doors open, and out came a man fell out, wearing some sort of uniform. And behind him was a some of two dozen men, armed. You had been tricked.

"Commander!" Houston yelled, jumping in front of you as a bullet as shot. It ripped through his heart like a dagger. He fell to the ground, going limp.

"You fuckers!" You shouted.

You went to shoot, but a rock came flying and hit you right in the eye. You heard everyone else struggle and a few gunshots. When you came back from the hit, you were grabbed and restrained.

The man you first saw, immediately tied all your team up, but a couple of the guys had you in a hold, rather than tied up. You were so scared, for everyone. The first guy who came out grabbed his walkie and talked into it.

"Naga, this is Blade. I have their Commander. Waiting your order."

"Good, bring their Commander to me. Take the rest to the pit. We have work that needs done." The mysterious voice spoke over the radio.

"Got it."

When your team started to get taken away like cattle, you got pissed. You saw the bodies of a few crew mates and it made you almost get sick. Houston and Leon were dead, all because of you.

When you started to be dragged away, you began to kick and scream.

"Get off me you rat fucking bastards! I'll kill you all!" You shouted.

The men only chucked, and kept walking.

You were able to get an arm free and sucker punch one. The other, you kicked straight in the teeth, which made him double over. You took the opportunity and snapped his neck with ease.

The other man though quickly recovered and tackled you. You both fought for a minute until you somehow got on top, flipping him to his back. You restrained his arms with your leg and grabbed his face.

"I fucking told you, asshole. Now, join your friend." You said with anger. You quickly pulled his head back, killing him. You got off and took a rifle he wore.

You looked around and started to gather your surroundings. Now you were kind of confused. First thing first, you had to find your team. You ran back to the garage and went to the corpses of Houston and Leon.

"I'm so sorry you guys." You said, picking up their dog tags. This was the only way to identify them now.

You left and followed a blood trail to a nearby meadow. There, in the distance, you saw thick trees. You came up to a set of some, and in front of you was a 4-way split.

"Fuck! I'll be fucked if I go the wrong way...." But before you could even think, you felt a presence.

Like, somebody was watching you. You looked up into the trees, and that's when you saw a man wearing a strange cap, sunglasses, and a bandanna. He held a tube in his mouth.

Before you could run, he put air into it and shot out a dart at you of some sort. Luck was not with you today though.

It sucks right into your neck. And it felt like a rock had just dropped on you from a great height. You fell to your knees and collapsed. You tried to crawl, but the world went black around you.

The man jumped down from the trees and came over. He removed the dart and rolled you over to see your face. When he saw it was you, he picked you up and carried you towards his large camp.

"Finally got you."

Meanwhile, back at the safe house

Lazar came up to Adler and Sims.

"Doc, Y/N was supposed to come back 5 hours ago. I was even told if I don't hear anything, to come to find them." Lazar spoke with worry.

Adler almost brushed it off, until he heard your name.

"Wait, as in Y/N Y/L/N? Commander of Strike team?" He questioned.

"Yes, remember they went into the Jungle for the possible compound raid. I think something is wrong." He said.

Adler put out his cigarette and got up. He walked over to a plan made out by you. His eyes went large, and he immediately started to pack up and get ready.

"Lazar, you are right. There is a good chance they are in danger. We leave right now! Get everyone rounded up and locked and loaded." He commanded.

Lazar did as he was told, and got everything in line. The crew left within 5 minutes.

One day later, Y/N POV

You finally woke back up, but you were changed to a wall. Your clothes have scratches, and your head felt like a bobblehead. The room had a bright, uncomfortable light above the head. You looked around and saw so much drug paraphernalia.

You were about to pass out again until the door opened, and the same man from before stepped into the room. You both made eye contact, and you saw a slight smile behind his bandanna.

He came over to you and ran his hand over your face.

"Well, look who is finally awake. I thought you weren't going to ever wake back up, my precious little dandelion." He said in a creepy tone.

You revolted to his touch and tried to kick. But, you were held in place by the tough shackles.

"No no no, little one. You won't be leaving now. Do you know how long I waited for you? And here you fall right into my lap...." He trailed off.

You still kicked and screamed, until he finally walked away over to a projector.

"Oh Y/N, I've been watching you for months now. I knew you had been tracing people like me to raid their compounds. Well, I didn't want you fucking up my business." He said, pulling up the images on the projector.

You looked at them in horror when you realized they were of you, in many different states. You at your own home, on a date with Lazar, out with the safe house team for bowling and drinks, even you in the shower. The fucking shower!

You began to cry. You were very afraid.

The man only laughed upon seeing your tears and started playing audio logs of you calling your family on holidays.

"Don't cry, little one. I've always wanted you in my life." He spoke, slowly walking towards you. You began to panic, and started kicking and muffled screaming again.

When he reached you, he ran his hand up your side, and to your face.

"Don't worry. My name is Naga and I'm here to keep you forever. You are mine now, you know." He said.

He stepped back and turned on an older song. He kept the pictures up as he walked towards you with a knife. Your heart sank.

"Do you see this, honey? This is what you'll get when you misbehave. Understand?" He spat at you.

"I'm going to undo your gag. Don't do anything stupid." Naga said.

As soon as he did, he smiled.

"There. Now, why don't you tell me something with that gorgeous mouth?"

You looked right at him, and spit right into his eye. He jumped back in disgust. That pissed him off, and his gaze turned cold.

"You fucking bitch! You'll pay for that!"

But before he could even lunge, a man came from behind and wrestled him to the ground. That man was none other than Lawrence Sims.

You started to wiggle as you saw Lazar and everyone else behind him. He quickly ran over to you and got you free. Adler jumped in with Sims and restrained Naga. He put up one hell of a fight though.

You were carried away to the EVAC chopper, where Mason sat.

"Y/N!" Mason shouted, helping you get onboard.

You sat up and coughed. Your body hurt so much, you felt drained.

"Please Mason, clean up this cut on my leg. It's getting infected." You pleaded.

Immediately, he started to tend to every wound you had. It stung like hell but you were relieved it was over. Lazar sat with you and held your hand. You felt like you were in shellshock.

After about 10 minutes, everyone came back to the heli. Lazar didn't look happy.

"What the hell? Where is he??" He questioned.

Adler pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Sims just signed.

"He got away. The bastard is like a snake. Plus not to mention, he turned my balls into innies." Adler said with defeat.

You sat up and hugged the blanket tighter around you. You looked around at everyone as the heli flew off.

"Wait, what about my team? They still might be down there...."

Adler nodded at you.

"We sent in spec ops to recover survivors. But we are glad to see you back here safe."

You nodded with relief and lay back against the heli. You looked out over the dark skies and the now ominous trees below. You knew, deep down inside down there, this wasn't over.

Naga still roamed these trees. You looked down over the treetops and clenched your fist tight.

"I promise, this isn't over. I'll be back, even stronger."

#naga cold war #black ops cold war #cold war #naga x reader #one shot

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lilibetbombshell · 3 years

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!!!ARC REVIEW!!!

"SUMMER SONS"

BY: LEE MANDELO

RELEASE DAY IS TODAY, 09.28.2021!!!

GO ORDER YOUR COPY NOW!!!

RATING: 5 STARS!!!

You don’t have to be a believer in the paranormal or supernatural to have a healthy fear of the Appalachian Mountains and what deep, dark secrets lie beneath them. You don’t have to be a genius to know that the land itself in and around those mountains holds just as many deep and dark secrets, and many of those are more fresh and filled with blood and pain created not by geological time, but by humans themselves.

I was very tempted, with my ADD, geography degree, and manic energy after reading this fantastic book, to go off on a tangent about just how old the Appalachian Mountains are and about formation and what lies beneath and about how there’s so much we have yet to discover about this ancient mountain range still, but I took a deep breath, took a step back, and marinated on what needed to be said about this book that people needed to hear.

This book is set in and around Vanderbilt University, which is located in Nashville, which is located in Tennessee. So, from the start, we’ve got a private university that was paid for by Andrew Carnegie (a wealthy white man from the north) but presided over by a Methodist Epsicopalian Bishop who believed slavery was human nature, which is located in a confederate state whose eastern side is part of the Appalachians. There’s a lot to unpack there: socially, politically, economically, culturally… and this book dips a toe into a few of these things. It can’t help not to, because it all ties together. But this book is really about what people don’t like to talk about. The topics they try to skirt around. The ugly things: the blood soaked deep in the soil, the evil steeped in generations of people (and then the lack of evil in some people and the need to protect them from it), the pressure to publish or perish, systemic racism in academia, internalized homophobia, regrets, the things people will do to stave off death, and the things people will and won’t do for love.

And, of course, it’s about cool stuff too: the ancient magic in the land, the sacrifices the land requires to maintain it, curses, hauntings, American folklore, revenants, street-racing, bad boys, drugs, drinking, and necromantic magic.

This is, by no means, a fast read. Like the south tends to be, it moves slow. Reading this book is like taking a walk through black tar molasses while breathing that thick, humid air.

Andrew, our main character, is going through the same thing, and that’s why we’re going through it. We must endure what he does, because this is his story, and we move as he moves. He’s struggling. He’s sluggishly trying to move through life ever since his best friend, Eddie, committed suicide only days before Andrew was to join him at Vanderbilt. He’s suffocating on all the things he never got to say, aimless because he doesn’t know how to live without his best friend, and he’s clueless about what to do with the fortune, friends, and research Eddie left to him. He’s completely lost save the one thing he’s absolutely certain of: Eddie didn’t kill himself. So we, the reader, have to sit in the passenger seat as Andrew throws himself helplessly at idea after idea, trying to grasp onto anything at all that will help him prove Eddie didn’t kill himself. Meanwhile, he’s trying to come to terms with feelings he’d long shut in a box and put a lock on, trying to figure out who he can trust and who he can’t, trying to figure out how to let go and have a good time while he can, and trying to keep a grasp on reality even as a curse that had bound he and Eddie together since childhood keeps trying to drag him down into the ground.

This book is astoundingly good. It’s languid, horrific, slick, bloody, sticky, lazy, intense, sultry, cold, mysterious, frightful, and a well-deserved finger pointed at all of us as a reminder that no matter what you build on top of it, physical or otherwise, the land is the land, and the land holds multitudes of humanities sins.

#arc review #arc reviewer #books #book reviews #new release #new releases #new release books #summer sons #lee mandelo #net galley #tordotcom #southern gothic #horror #lgbtq books #appalachian mountains

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apageinthecastle · 3 years

Text

A Quarantined Reunion - Chapter One: An Apple Pie Kind of Day

Karen Page and Frank Castle haven't seen each other since their exchange at the hospital. Now, in the middle of a pandemic, the two have been brought together again and have no choice but to quarantine together. What will come of the reunion?

Karen slipped her heels on, reaching for the hook where she always kept her keys and, thanks to this pandemic, her mask. Grabbing her purse off of the table by the door, she started out, careful to lock up behind her. She looped her mask over her ears, adjusting it as she left the building.

It had been months since this pandemic had started, with no end in sight. All of New York City was on lockdown except for essential errands only. It was the empty refrigerator that had Karen currently outside of the walls she’d been confined to for the last few weeks. Even her job with the Bulletin had gone completely remote.

She hurried quickly down the street to the grocery store just a fifteen minute walk from her apartment. Hell’s Kitchen was too quiet for the former Vermont woman. It had taken her months to get used to the noise of the bustling city and now that it was gone, she desperately wanted it back. New York, and it’s loudness, had become a warm familiarity that was now missing from her nights.

Frank adjusted the mask on his face for what must have been the tenth time in the short distance between his apartment door and the street below. When the lockdown was first initiated, the pandemic had only been expected to last a few weeks – Hell’s Kitchen residents were hopeful that life as they knew it would return to something next to normal by the end of Spring Break. After a short reprieve from full lockdown, December saw the restrictions return full-force. Easy enough to lay low when everyone else is doing the same, Frank thought to himself. Still, a creature of habit, he was annoyed with the constant change in pandemic rules and regulations.

In the midst of the neverending flux around him, however, at least one thing had remained the same: the weekly walk to 5 Napkin for a Double 5 Cheeseburger Smash and Bourbon spiked S’mores shake. If he was in a particularly annoyed mood, he might even add a slice of apple pie. Yeah, he decided as he shoved his hands in his pockets against the mid-December cold, it is definitely an apple pie kinda day.

Karen breathed into her hands as she walked, pulling her scarf a little tighter around her neck. Yes, she’d grown up even further North than her current residence, but eventually cold was just cold. Today was one of those days and she’d forgone the gloves, per usual. In the event she did need to use the firearm she concealed in her purse, it was much easier to do without fabric to get in the way.

For all the attention the woman usually paid, the empty streets had lowered her guard. She allowed herself to become absorbed in her thoughts as she walked, musing over her newest assignment from Ellison. Consumed in her own head, the hand that grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into a small space between buildings caught her completely by surprise.

It took a moment to register what was happening - the police officer shoving her against the bricks behind her, pinning her with his body. She didn’t have an opportunity to reach for her gun before the moment was gone and it was too late. A scream erupted from her throat, only to be cut off by the hand that clamped down over her mouth.

Tossing his regretfully empty milkshake cup into the trash as he continued along 9th, Frank haphazardly shoved the apple pie container and compulsory five napkins into the pocket of his coat; he was too hungry to wait to eat anything that required a fork. Tugging his mask down and unwrapping the foil around his burger had become one swift, instinctive motion over the months, not unlike the simultaneous action of dropping one magazine and replacing it with another in the heat of a firefight.

The burger was almost in his mouth when he heard it.at The sound, abrupt but unmistakably a scream, cutting through the eerie pandemic quiet and reverberating off of the buildings nearby. God damnit, he thought, can’t a man eat a burger in peace?

Any potential for cheeseburger peace now ruined, Frank frowned to himself and re-wrapped it, dropping it into the other pocket of his coat. Screams like that - the kind that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end - didn’t happen without good reason. Having spent the last year keeping a low profile (and the one before, working with Madani and the CIA in that god forsaken desert to earn what little amnesty he had), the Marine was conflicted. If the year laying low had taught him anything, it was how to effectively contain the restlessness that had a way of seeping through his better judgement. Hell’s Kitchen has survived this long without the Punisher bullshit, it sure as hell doesn’t need another pile of bodies, he thought. God knows they’re running out of toe tags.

The thought was wiped clean and his blood turned cold as a familiar voice filled his ears. Her voice.

“Help!”

His feet, which had been tracking the source of the sound of their own accord, fell silent against the pavement as he closed the half-block distance and saw Karen Page in the meat hook hands of the NYPD. So much for laying low.

Everything was happening too fast for the blonde to register as she tried to fight against her assailant. She was barely keeping him at bay, let alone making any headway in getting him away from her, and she felt her heartbeat drumming in her ears. Her vision was a flurry of limbs as she continued to struggle, crying out as her wrist was turned to an unnatural angle at a violent speed.

A moment later, she felt space around her as the man was shoved away. Her eyes went wide as she looked, trying to take in the scene playing out in front of her. Her breath caught in her chest. No. She thought, blinking back the pain filled tears that threatened to spill over her onto her cheek. It can’t be. It had been two years since she’d seen him and she’d convinced herself she never would again. Not after that conversation in the hospital when he’d told her he didn’t want to choose to love someone over another goddamn war.

Swallowing as she sank down the brick wall, Karen couldn’t deny the sight anymore. Seeing the meticulous nature of the attack of what had moments ago been her attacker, there was no room for doubt. It was him.

Frank Castle.

He let the incoming right hook catch his cheekbone, and used the cop’s sluggish moment of recoil to throw his weight into the man’s middle, tackling him hip-first against the pavement. Driving his knee into the base of the officer’s spine as he pinned him to the ground, Frank snatched the government-issued firearm from its holster and readied it, knocking his opponent’s hat off with the barrel.

Armed, ready, and itching to pull the trigger, Frank knew that this split-second decision would make or break any opportunity he would ever have to speak with Karen again. He took a deep breath to counter the adrenaline, flicking his eyes over to her just long enough to try for her attention.

“Karen, get out of here.”

No response.

She couldn’t see this. After everything they had been through, everything they had fought over, everything that had fallen apart between them that day in the hospital, the slightest chance of a clean slate would be blown away the instant he-- he grabbed the cop by the hair and slammed his head into the pavement in frustration.

“Karen. Now.”

She was frozen in place, eyes locked on the two men. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Whether it was from the shock of the attack or the shock of seeing the Punisher in front of her again, she couldn’t tell. All she knew is the only thing holding her upright was the wall behind her. She didn’t have the strength or coherent thought to get her limbs to respond to Frank’s command.

His mind swirled with a multitude of thoughts in a single second, trying to decide the best course of action. This asshole had gone after Karen. He wouldn’t let him get away with that. Not a goddamn chance in hell would anyone get away with putting their hands on the last remaining family he had if he had any say in it. At the same time, could he really jeopardize whatever miniscule chance he might have with making things right with her if he pulled this trigger right in front of her? As the seconds continued to tick by - one, two, three - and she continued not to move, the choice was made for him.

He squeezed.

Clicking the safety on the firearm into place, he jumped up, shoving it into his waistband and abandoning the body to take the three strides it took him to get to her. He knelt down without hesitation, putting himself solely in her line of sight so that she had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“Hey, sh, sh, sh, you’re okay. Can you stand up?” Once again, his words were met with silence and a distinct lack of movement from the woman. Her eyes were searching his, but distantly. She was looking at him, but she wasn’t seeing him at all. He held his hand up to her before slowly resting it on the back of her neck to keep her steady, doing a quick once-over for any signs of obvious injury. She was leaning to one side but didn’t dare to brace herself against her wrist - a sprain, maybe? Frank didn’t see any blood pooling. She looked terrified, more than anything. Definitely in shock, he thought as she shook. Satisfied with not having to call an ambulance, he looped her uninjured arm around his neck and helped her to her feet.

“Come on, Karen, let’s get you home.”

She leaned against him, unable to take her eyes off of him even as they started to walk. He kept glancing over as they made their way out of the alley, brows furrowing. He couldn’t read her face, couldn’t tell what she was thinking, and it made the man more anxious than he cared to admit. He’d learned a long time ago not to care what people thought of him. Karen Page was a rare exception to that.

When they’d gone two blocks toward her apartment and she still had neither said a word nor taken her eyes off of him, Frank knew he couldn’t leave her alone. She was in absolutely no condition to take care of herself right now, of that much he was sure. Clearing his throat and stopping, he looked over at her.

“I’m going to take you to my place, okay?”

Whether he was met with the faintest of nods or a particularly violent shake, he couldn’t tell. He didn’t think it would be fair for him to be in her apartment when she couldn’t tell him to fuck off if she wanted to, anyway. It was his place or they parted ways here, and that wasn’t an option.

A quick survey of the area told him she was probably on her way to get groceries. He made a mental note to pick some up when she came to. Should he text Red to drop some off? Were they still seeing each other? Would he lose his ever loving shit if he knew what had happened? Frank shook his head and gently urged Karen to start walking alongside him again. His top priority was getting her to safety, the other details could be ironed out after.

#frank castle #karen page #kastle #punisher #daredevil

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autisticshadowthehedgehog · 4 years

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The Babylon Rogues are Dimension Hoppers and I can prove it

[ID: The Babylon Garden flying through space, as seen at the end of Sonic Riders: Zero Gravity. End ID.]

I have several points to make in this theory, so I’ll make this intro brief. Here is what I will be attempting to prove in this fun little essay:

The Babylonians are not native to Mobius

They are, in fact, native to Blaze’s dimension

They used to be dimension hoppers, but after the fall of the Babylon Garden they had to cease activity

The dimension-hopping can be proven by looking at Blaze’s world, Sonic Boom, possibly Black Knight, and finally and most damningly, the Arabian Nights of Sonic and the Secret Rings.

Let’s continue.

Babylonians are (canonically?) not native to Mobius

Very quickly, let’s go over some important lore for this theory. This might seem a bit “boring” for the moment, but please give it a read for context.

[ID: Ancient ruins showing the legendary Divine Wings, as seen in Sonic Riders: Zero Gravity. The Divine Wings looks similar to a spaceship, with two orbs atop and four “wings.” End ID.]

A bit of detail is given in Sonic Riders as to the Ancient Babylonians, such as that they are believed to have been genies. (Remember that specifically for later.) Their incredibly advanced technology marked them as separate from the other ancient cultures.

As revealed in Sonic Riders: Zero Gravity, the Ancient Babylonians believed in a legendary bird known as the Divine Wings. From what we can gather from what Tails is aware of and Knuckles reads from ancient inscriptions, the legends say that the Divine Wings rode the gods through the heavens, but lost their plumes to the dark and fell to the ground. The plumes became “stars,” returning to the land- these “plumes” (the Arks of the Cosmos) being the power sources that were sought after throughout the game.

Tails eventually concludes that the Divine Wings was a spaceship, and that this “lightless black” that attacked the Divine Wings turns out to have been an actual Black Hole; while Tails believes it may have been programmed into the Arks as a warning “for people to step away from power beyond control,” what actually seems to have happened, though, may have been less of an intentional precautionary measure and more of a malfunction. It’s just as likely that the Arks went out of control either by themselves (as technology is want to do) or due to something in the planet’s atmosphere, threatening to turn their ship’s engine into the black hole.

Unable to control the Black Hole, the Babylonians then lost their ability for space travel; they disconnected the Arks from their ship, sending them into the planet’s orbit. Their ship, the Babylon Garden, crashed onto the planet; while it still floated, they were unable to leave the atmosphere, and thus wished for every “falling star” to be their Arks to help them return home. They only managed to recover two over time, both of which were sealed away separately until it was safe to relaunch their ship.

[ID: The Arks scattering throughout space, from Sonic Riders: Zero Gravity. End ID.]

The Babylon Garden remained floating and the Babylonians resided there, eventually becoming notorious thieves, though they are also famous for their technology, including their magic carpet (again, note for later) and “angel wings” they gave a boy that gave him a bit too much power.

This “too much power” seems to have “incurred the wrath of the gods;” the Babylon Garden was buried beneath the Sand Ruins, while the Babylonians scattered, though the Key to the Garden was passed along. Their history, though, turned into legend.

[ID: Art showing an angel-like creature striking lightning down onto the Babylon Garden. End ID.]

So, here is the “proposed” timeline:

Babylonians are aliens

Crash land on Mobius

Become thieves

Gods get pissed and “tower of babel” them

sidenote, but considering the known gods of the Sonicverse are Chaos, Illumina, Light/Dark Gaia and Solaris... I’m literally losing my mind imagining this unlikely group banding together and saying “yeah. yeah these birds need to go”

But here’s a question... what if it wasn’t a spaceship at all?

What if the ship could hop not across different planets, but through different worlds?

The Babylonians were not aliens from another planet, but from another dimension.

And the first of my evidence is that Babylon has actually been seen in another canonical dimension.

Babylon Exists (but is abandoned) in Blaze’s World

Who here remembers Sonic Rush Adventure?

[ID: A stage logo from Sonic Rush Adventure. It reads “Sky Babylon” and features a purple jewel among leaves. End ID.]

Very clearly, a certain “Babylon” does appear in Blaze’s dimension (which we’ll call the Sol Dimension for clarity’s sake). And this isn’t just speculation; the pirates and Blaze refer to the ruins as “Sky Babylon” within the game.

From what Blaze says, Sky Babylon was inhabited by an ancient civilization, and was a continent in the sky. However, one day “it fell from the sky and crashed into the ocean.” Quite similar to the Babylon Garden, huh? After the continent fell, the people had to live among the land-dwellers, but longed one day to return to the sky, leaving keys to point the way.

Sidenote: Blaze later finds ancient writings discussing the ruins- eerily similar to how Tails and Knuckles found out about the Divine Wings in Zero Gravity. And the writing says “To reach our homeland, head north along the shallows.”

[ID: Screenshot from Sonic Rush Adventure, of the Sky Babylon stage. Sonic is swinging on a rope beside pillars. End ID.]

So, let’s review similarities between Blaze’s Babylon and Sonic’s Babylon:

Ancient Civilizations living in floating cities

The continent later fell from the sky and crashed, becoming lost overtime

The people had to live on the planet but longed to return to the sky

Keys were left; the word “key” refers in Blaze’s world to the signs explaining how to reach Sky Babylon, while in Sonic’s world the key is the ability to open the Babylon Garden, left to Jet.

Ancient Writings were left explaining the lore.

Now I’m sure you’re all thinking, “Gee, Connie, it’s probably just the other dimension’s versions of the Babylonians, just as Blaze is another dimension counterpart to Sonic and Marine is the counterpart to Tails.”

But something interesting- almost nothing in Blaze’s world shares the same name as Sonic’s world. Even ones with similar names have notable differences- Eggman is Eggman Nega, the Chaos Emeralds are the Sol Emeralds, etc. And that’s literally the only two things with similar names, unless you count the South Island/Southern Island thing. (Which are. very common names.) Babylon is exactly the same in both dimensions.

“But it’s Sky Babylon and the Babylon Garden, that’s different-” No, actually. The Babylon Garden were the spaceship, and only became a homeland after crashing. Sky Babylon is referred to exclusively as the Babylon Homeland. So what if Sky Babylon was their home base, and the Garden was their ship?

This also isn’t the only dimension with hints of Babylonians.

Babylonian Hints in Other Dimensions

Now these two may be reaches, but they’re just setup to when we hit the big guns, so strap in.

In a canonically different dimension to the main games, the Sonic Boom games have several floating cities with very little backstory.

[ID: The Sky Citadel in Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric. Though abandoned, it is in good condition, and features several stone pillars and hanging plants. The citadel is among the sky and vaguely foggy, as it stands above the clouds. End ID.]

In Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric, Team Sonic finds their final chaos crystal in the Sky Citadel, an enormous city located within the clouds; however, it has been long since abandoned, with only ruins remaining. In Sonic Boom: Shattered Crystal, Lyric imprisons Amy in Cloud Sanctuary, which are several floating islands joined by roads and hidden by the clouds. Once again, in the sanctuary are ancient ruins; there are no remaining people, only remnants of a lost civilization, with zero explanation as to what this city is or was.

It is assumed that both of those worlds are remnants from the Ancients like Lyric the Snake; however, unless I’m mistaken, there is no confirmation of this, only the news that the Ancients hid the Sky Crystal in the Sky Citadel in order to keep it from Lyric; there’s no word that they lived there. In fact, wouldn’t hiding a chaos crystal from Lyric in a place that he lived be a really bad idea? Not a great hiding spot, guys.

Another sidenote, but speculation: should, as I’m sure you’re inferring I’m implying, these lands have belonged to the Babylonians of the Boom!Universe, who is to say that they didn’t find the hidden Sky Crystal and steal it? They’re notorious thieves after all.

The Sonic Boomniverse also has ancients with insanely powerful tech... hmm.

Secondly, let’s bring in Sonic and the Black Knight. You see, on the modern Babylonians’ ship, a painting of a pirate hawk is hanging above Jet’s desk. It has been speculated to be Jet’s father, or at least an ancestor. In this portrait, this captain holds a sword.

Now, let’s, um. Compare that sword to Caliburn, one of the sacred swords of Camelot.

I’m gonna be honest; at least to my untrained eye, I believe that the Babylon Sword pictured here is very similar in color and shape to Caliburn. The connector to the blade may be a bit more rounded like Laevatin, however that may just be the blurriness of the portrait. Now how would a Babylonian locked in Sonic’s dimension get access to Caliburn?

Well, you say, Sonic was transported to another dimension in Black Knight, wasn’t he? So they could have been summoned at some point, that’s not evidence they purposefully hopped dimensions.

But let’s go back to that. Sonic was transported to another dimension in Black Knight... and also in that other Sonic Storybook.

Which one was that again?

The Big Guns: Sonic and the Secret Rings

[ID: Concept art from Sonic and the Secret Rings. End ID.]

Let’s talk about the source of the name Babylon for a moment.

Babylon was also a city on Earth; it was in ancient Mesopotamia, which is now Iraq. The name at the time derived from the Akkadian bav-il or bav-ilim, meaning “Gate of the Gods.” The city was featured in several stories within Abrahamic culture- the Tower of Babel (which I referenced earlier!), the enslavement of Jerusalem resulting in the famous stories of Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. In at least Jewish and Christian tradition, Babylon symbolizes oppressors and worldliness. The city is even personified in the Christian book of Revolutation as the Whore of Babylon.

But outside of this reputation, the city is known as an archeological marvel; very impressive architecture, an interesting code of law, and one of the seven wonders of the world, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, a tiered garden.

Sources: Mark, Joshua J. J. “Babylon.” Ancient History Encyclopedia, Ancient History Encyclopedia, 23 Oct. 2020, www.ancient.eu/babylon/, also the fact I am and was raised Christian so I Know This Christian Stuff™ just trust me

There’s more I could get into, but I’m sure you’re already bored- yeah, yeah, Sonic Team named their cool ancient civilization after another cool ancient civilization, who cares? Here’s why I mentioned this, though: Babylon was in what is now Iraq. Iraq, as anyone with a georgraphy education would know, is in the Middle East of the planet. Know what else is in the middle east?

The Arabian Nights.

Know what the Arabian Nights influenced heavily, almost exclusively?

The first Sonic Storybook, Sonic and the Secret Rings.

[ID: A screenshot from Sonic and the Secret Rings, showing Shahra the Genie and Sonic having a discussion. End ID.]

Remember all the way back in the beginning when I mentioned genies and magic carpets being a staple of SonicWorld Babylon? Well, genies are definitely canon to the Arabian Nights World, with Shahra and Erazor Djinn, and the idea of a magic carpet, while not appearing in Secret Rings, is very much a middle eastern staple, which most modern people connect to Aladdin, which Shahra references first and constantly throughout the game.

Now, two very interesting dimensional instances are featured within Secret Rings. First off- the titular seven rings.

[ID: Three screenshots of a scene from Sonic and the Secret Rings; Sonic and Shahra are attempting to grab a blue water ring. Sonic says, “Looks like I’m the only one that can touch [the rings]. I betcha it’s because I’m not from this world. Does that mean these rings aren’t from this world, either?” End ID.]

The rings, though insanely powerful, cannot be touched by anyone but Sonic. While it’s never confirmed, Sonic theorizes that the reason for this is that the rings are also from another dimension, possibly even his own. Now how would rings from another dimension end up in the Arabian Nights?

The second dimensional fun thing is one of the bosses in this game- the Ifrit.

[ID: Screenshot from Sonic and the Secret Rings. The Ifrit Golem rises from a fire pit. Sonic is shocked, and Shahra exclaims, “It’s a djinn that controls fire... it’s called an Ifrit!” End ID.]

Now, I could go a lot into certain theories about the Ifrit, but my sister covered that topic pretty well with her kickass Infinite/Solaris theory. So instead let’s just cover the basics.

Ifrit’s name also has sources in Abrahamic mythology, though this one is specifically from Islam. It is a powerful demon, usually identified with spirits of the dead. The whole “death” thing isn’t really brought into this but, you know. Interesting.

In Secret Rings, the Ifrit Golem is summoned by Erazor Djinn in order to burn pages of the Arabian Nights. It seems to be vaguely robotic, but considering it was summoned and seems to be alive I assume it’s just possessing some kind of robotic form, but most importantly it is mostly brown and red and is able to control fire. When Erazor summons it, he claims it is condemned by Iblis (a powerful djinn in Islamic mythology, former angel cast out of heaven, but also literally half of a god in Sonic 06, which was in production around the same time as Secret Rings) and also says he summoned it from Jahannam, basically hell.

[ID: A loading screen from Sonic Rivals 2, showing the Ifrit there, breathing fire. End ID.]

Ifrit also appears, however, in another game released the same year; Sonic Rivals 2. And it is mentioned to, again, be from another dimension. It is summoned by Eggman Nega to destroy the world, but is defeated by the Sonic Squads™ and eventually left trapped in its own dimension. It is, once again, incredibly fire-based, colored red and brown, and actually has mind control powers now, so that’s cool for it I guess.

So in two games, released the same year, Ifrit is connected to different dimensions; Arabian Nights, Jahannam, its own hell-dimension (possibly Jahannam?), and also a bit of Mobius, as Gerald Robotnik was noted to have studied the Ifrit’s legendary power.

So Secret Rings has rings from another dimension, and a fire demon from another dimension. Also a blue hedgehog shows up and does some stuff there idk. Which means that Secret Rings is no stranger to other dimensions popping in and out.

What this whole tangent is leading to- Arabian Nights is clearly connected to dimension-hopping. And Babylon is connected to the Arabian Nights by several things- specifically, the name and history, the magic carpet, and the genies.

(Does that make Jet and Shahra distant cousins?)

Also another interesting thing: the Levitated Ruins.

[ID: A screenshot from Sonic and the Secret Rings. Sonic is running through the sky, and we see several manta-ray like creatures, called the rukh, with cities built upon their backs. End ID.]

The towns there are built on the back of flying rukh flying through the atmosphere.

Flying ruins again? Interesting.

Very fucking interesting.

Conclusion

[ID: Screenshot from Sonic Riders: Zero Gravity. The Babylon Rogues look up at the sky, where the Babylon Garden is flying into orbit. End ID.]

So, let’s get down the facts:

Despite almost everything in Sol having a different name than in Mobius, the Babylonians have the same name.

Sky Babylon in Sol was considered the Babylon Homeland, but abandoned after it fell into the sea.

The Babylon Garden was some kind of ship, but it crashed on Earth.

The Babylonians in both dimensions longed to return to the sky and left keys for their descendants to make that possible.

The Babylonians are connected by visual cues to Sonic Boom abandoned cities (with no word on who lived there or where they went), and possibly even Black Knight.

Due to their name, similar technology, and the legends of genies, the Babylonians are also connected to the Arabian Nights.

Arabian Nights itself has a lot of dimensional shenanigans going on.

The Babylonians are connected to Sol, Mobius, Sonic Boom, Black Knight and/or Arabian Nights.

So. What conclusions did I draw from this?

Some thousand or so years ago, the Babylonians, originating in Sol, had the technology to hop between dimensions.

Considering they later became notorious Mobian thieves, we can assume that thievery was also in the picture during these ancient times. How easy would it be to be a thief with dimensional powers? You steal something, hop dimensions, and then hop back when the cops are gone.

Either the first dimension they went to or their main hangout was the Arabian Nights; they picked up a lot of the culture/tech, such as magic carpets and genie myths. Possibly due to this, the Arabian Nights has an open connection to other worlds.

Perhaps the Seven Rings actually came from Babylon, stashing these cool new gems into their inbetween world and forgetting to pick them up.

They set up some cities on flying manta rays, nbd.

They also hopped into the Sonic Boom dimension, where they made some sky cities to rest in inbetween dimension hops. Upon their ship’s failure, the sky cities were left abandoned.

They also may have visited the Black Knight dimension.

During one of their dimension hops, their ship, the Babylon Garden, goes to the Mobius dimension; however, something in their tech fucks up within this dimension’s boundaries/atmosphere.

This one’s just a wild speculation, but if they came from Sol, Sol and Mobius have different emeralds, so I think they may have different power sources.

In order to prevent a Black Hole from destroying them and this other dimension, the Babylonian travelers split their power and fall into Mobius. There, they live on their Garden until it falls.

Back in Sol, Sky Babylon also ends up falling; perhaps whatever caused the Garden to fall hit Sky Babylon, or perhaps some other disaster occurred before Babylon Prime could figure out what happened to their Garden.

The Sol Babylonians settle among the land.

Eventually they all either forget the dimension hopping or it becomes secret as fuck.

So what’s the full conclusion?

It’d be really funny if the Babylonians learned the Arabian Nights prophecy about a blue hedgehog saving their world and passed that story along forever but it just went completely over Jet’s head because the second he saw Sonic his gay kill bill sirens went off and he was like “I have to race him” and it takes him years to remember.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic riders #sonic riders zero gravity #jet the hawk #sonic and the secret rings #babylon rogues #sonic theory #connie theories #mine

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