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meowmeowriley · 3 months

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@sergeantwoods Sorry for the long wait, but here's the mer!AU

Think I'll call it Fish Out of the Sea

Ghost x Soap, blacktip reef shark mer!Soap, human Ghost, fluff, getting together (kinda)

Ficlet after the cut 😘

"No."

John sighed, he didn't seem surprised by Shepherd's hard rejection, but he kept trying. Simon had to give props to the fishing boat Captain. "You have the best mer rehabilitation facility in the country. It'd be a shame not to use it."

"You said you had a mermaid. That's not a fucking mermaid, John."

"I said I had an injured mer." He repeated himself from their earlier conversation.

"I'm not taking that thing into my facility."

"He needs help-"

"He's hideous, and aggressive." Shepherd barked. "That thing keeps lashing out, it'll scare patrons, attack my staff, and if that *thing* touches my mermaids, tries to mate with them, I'll have it put down."

"Mers are actually matriarchal, sir." The mer expert, Kyle, finally spoke up. "I've never worked with a shark mer before, but I do know he won't mess with Kate or Rosa, because they won't want him. Since they're together."

"Kyle. For the last time, the mermaids aren't lesbians. They're just fish." Shepherd was one of those who thought of mers as lesser than humans. Obviously.

Simon was standing near the door. No one had noticed him sneak in, but when he'd overheard that the mer was a shark variant, he'd needed to see it. Now, seeing the poor thing huddled in the corner of it's transport tank, curled in on itself, he felt so bad for it. He watched, any time someone went near it it flared out it's dorsal and pectoral fins. It would gnash it's teeth and charge the glass. All signs of aggression in a shark but... as soon as it finished its display it was right back to the furthest corner from the humans. It kept peeking at them over it's own shoulder when it thought they weren't looking. He quietly crept closer.

He took in it's markings, gray on it's back, white on its belly, black tips to it's fins. Claspers on its pelvic fins. A male blacktip reef shark then. His inferior end was all shark, something Simon was very familiar with, as he took care of all of the sharks here at the aquarium, several of them blacktips. His superior end, or top half, he supposed a visitor would (incorrectly) consider it, was new and interesting to him. Though he was vaguely humanoid, his skin was all two tones white and gray, like his tail. He had a wedge shaped snout in place of a human nose, a wider mouth with jagged teeth. Slitted eyes, and a black tipped fin atop his head that reminded Simon of a mohawk. Webbed gray and white hands with black claws rubbed up and down it's own arms in a self soothing gesture. One forearm had an odd angle to it, probably the injury that landed him here.

He retreated from the tank quietly before speaking, interrupting the squabbling of the other men. "He looks like a reef shark to me." Everyone else jumped. "Blacktip reef sharks aren't aggressive. Sure they can get a little iffy during feeding, but they're more curious than anything."

"He's been charging the glass, Ghost." Simon managed to suppress his eye roll at Shepherd's nickname for him. They all called him that here. "Fuck you mean 'not aggressive', you don't know mers."

"No, but I know sharks. He's injured, and defensive. You ever think he doesn't like us because it was something shaped like us that broke his arm?" John winced, he obviously felt bad about it. Not like he could've know he'd caught the mer in his net, but it was nice to see some accountability from a fisherman for once.

"Well we can't communicate with him, so he'll stay scared and defensive." If Simon didn't love the sharks, he would've left this place a long time ago because Shepherd was an absolutely abrasive cunt.

"Kate and Rosa can. And their English is excellent." Kyle spoke up again. "We have them pass on the message of our intentions, and Ghost and I tag team his rehabilitation." Of course he uses the dumb nickname too. "It's the perfect plan! And an incredible opportunity to be one of two aquariums to actually work with a shark mer. The novelty of something so rare will bring in patrons." Kyle was really leaning into Shepherd's true interests here, bringing up money.

Shepherd was quiet for a moment and then, "If anything happens, you're both fired." He then stormed out of the room.

"Thanks, Gaz."

"Of course, Cap."

Now the three of them had to get the shark mer into an appropriate tank.

***

They had initially tried to put him in with the other mers, but he'd seen the sharks in the tank across the hall and told Kate he wanted to be with his own kind. That would make Simon's job easier, anyway. Kate had explained that they needed to put a cast on his arm, and Rosa had wrestled it onto him, since the humans couldn't get too close. They decided to name him John, after Captain Price, calling him Johnny affectionately. Gaz explained to Ghost that part of rehabbing Johnny would be gaining his trust, teach him to communicate. To release him without a way to communicate could lead to him attacking humans and being a problem down the road.

Simon had a plan: ignore him. He was a reef shark, his own curiosity would get him to open up. It took a week.

Simon would feed his sharks from a catwalk above their tank, for safety reasons, dropping their food in in the mornings before they opened their doors. No need to scare any children. For the first week, any time he passed by, Johnny would posture aggressively and gnash his teeth, before snatching up his food and swimming off. When Ghost would gear up and go in the water for his evening shows, Johnny stayed far away. At night, Gaz and his mers would move over and Ghost would mostly just observe as the girls tried to teach Johnny how to speak, and he petulantly ignored them, with a little pout on his face as he refused to even make eye contact with them. It was cute.

The first time he tried to speak was also the first time Simon saw him raise his head above the surface. He seemed frantic. "HAAAH!" He startled a bit at what was most likely the first time he ever used his lungs to breath air. "HAAAAH! AH! YAAH!" he was waving with his good arm. Stretching it out towards the platform between his tank and that of the other mers, thrashing his tail with his fins tucked in. Very distressed. Simon went to check, to see what could possibly be bothering him so much, when he found their elusive fourth mer. Simon had only seen Gary once. Gaz called him Roach, because he hid in the tiniest cracks in the reef in their enclosure, why on earth the isopod mer was on the platform, and not in the water, was beyond him, but he couldn't let the poor thing suffer. He had several of his little legs caught in a grate. Simon spent some time disentangle him. He tossed the infant sized mer into the nearest tank, which happened to be the shark tank, with Johnny. The larger mer immediately dove to catch him. He stroked Roach's antennae back like one would the hair of a small child, a soothing motion. Clearly not as much of a loner as he pretended to be. From then on the little isopod mer could be found clinging to Johnny's sides or fins with his many little periopods more often than not. After that, it seemed that Gary encouraged Johnny's more curious side. The mer's language was mostly outside of the human range of hearing, but Simon occasionally caught clicks, whistles or hums shared between the two.

Simon had left a bucket with soap close to the edge once, the two mers were clearly curious about it, but he didn't think anything would come of it. Which is why it was such a surprise when Johnny stuck a webbed hand in and scooped some out, popping it immediately into his mouth. Simon knew it wasn't enough to harm him, which is why he couldn't help but laugh at the poor creatures misfortune as it sputtered and writhed, making bubbles. While laughing he let his guard down, and was surprised when something struck him, knocking him off the catwalk and into the tank. He opened his eyes and looked around, seeing only Roach, floating downward, listing side to side, tiny head in his tiny hands. He surfaced to see Johnny. "Did you just throw him at me?!" Johnny sunk down so only his eyes and cranial fin were above the water. The little shit. "Not cool, Soap!" He forced his palm out towards the mer, sending a spray of water its way. That seemed to really break down the mer's walls.

Johnny started approaching while Simon would try and clean the tank. At first, darting away if Simon caught sight of him. Eventually however, he would get closer and simply observe. He'd watch Simon work at cleaning the glass or vacuuming the sand at the bottom. It was fun to see shark behavior and mer behavior collide. If Simon sat something down, Johnny would pick it up, and without a doubt if he could get it in his hands, it would end up in his mouth.

There was a small crowd, a child's birthday party had been held over by Gaz's mer tank, the girls were always a hit with the kids, and the little show they put on with Gaz was actually pretty funny. They'd harass him as he pretended to try and do his chores. Slapstick comedy was good for all ages.

Simon had his own show with his sharks, but it wasn't for a few more hours. He was actually just trying to clean. Apparently his cleaning sponge had caught Johnny's attention, as the mer had swam up and was watching him intently. He kept inching forward, eventually crowding Simon against the glass while reaching for his sponge. "Oi!" He said into his respirator, not that anyone could hear him. He shoved Johnny away and kept trying to cleaning, but the persistent bastard just kept coming back. He could vaguely see the crowd observing them through the glass. They were probably laughing. When he'd had enough, he got an idea. He turned when Johnny got close again and placed one hand on his dorsal fin and the other on the underside of his snout. He began to rub at the sensitive underside of the mer's snout, and just like his sharks, the mer entered a state of tonic immobility. He repositioned Johnny, nose down tail to the surface, Johnny's arms hung limply down past his head. Simon quickly withdrew his hands and watched as the mer continued to float for a bit, before blinking vigorously. He shook his head before righting himself, and slapped his tail into Simon's chest as he practically fled to his little cave at the other end of the tank. When he surfaced later, Gaz informed him that the kids were raving about how cool the 'shark guys' were.

Simon had to admit that Johnny was growing on him. He looked forward to seeing him each day. Johnny began trying to get Simon to swim with him. He'd grab Simon's arms and try to pull him into the water when he was on land, or he'd push Simon away from the glass and his cleaning supplies, towards the open water. Sometimes Simon would indulge him, and the two of them would make laps around the tank.

Simon realized, when Johnny began posturing towards the sharks and getting territorial about him towards them, that Johnny was attempting to court him. Worse, he couldn't bring himself to try and put an end to the behavior either. Johnny was getting touchy, he'd run his hands along Simon's sides or chest, in much the same way Simon would to per his sharks, but it felt different. He would push Simon until he floated horizontally in the water, then drape himself across the man.

Simon knew he was getting himself into some deep shit, but he couldn't help the small voice in the back of his head that urged him to reach out, to cradle the mer's rubbery cheeks in his hands. He wanted to kiss him. He was fucked.

***

I hope you liked it! Ngl, I really liked this one. If you don't mind, I might expand on this and make it a multi-chapter fic over on AO3? I wanna explore more of society's reaction to mers, specifically interspersed relationships and where this could go. Let me know what you think, and thanks for the idea!

#ive had this one on the brain for a hot minute #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #cod mw2 #fanfic #call of duty #text post #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare #mermaid au #mer!au #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #mer!john soap mactavish #shark mermaid

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monstersdownthepath · 7 months

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A collection of Nascent Demon Lords (plus an extra)

(Pic source; it’s not 1 to 1 what I have in mind, but it’s close enough! and certainly eye-catching)

I’ve done daemons and sahkil, so here we have a trio of nascent demon lords. And also, as an extra treat, an especially disgusting Qlippoth Lord! These aren’t my only concepts for nascent lords, but if I put all of them in a single post then I won’t have any to post later!

As always, there’s significantly more lore for each of these horrors than I put in their little blurbs. Feel free to ask! If one or another gets enough attention, I might write a full article like I’ve done for bigger divinities.

TW for alcoholism mentions in the second entry, and body horror and major unsanitary themes in the final entry.

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Caerbannog, the Deceptive Death Chaotic Evil Nascent Demon Lord of Aggressive Mimicry and Camouflage

One of many wicked children of Lamashtu, Caerbannog has risen above his lesser kin and maintained a hold on a small but stable kingdom of labyrinthine tunnels which link into the realms of various other Abyssal powers, which he constantly steals from. Petitioners, territory, treasure, whatever he can claim for himself without risking immediate retaliation. While this audacious behavior would get any other creature slaughtered for their impudence, Caerbannog remains under the radar of beasts such as Jezelda, Angazhan, and Zevgavizeb by sticking to a simple but fairly effective gimmick: Appearing very, very small.

Able to hide his presence to a degree that even True Sight cannot pierce his disguises, Caerbannog masquerades as harmless animals, demon larvae, or lowly creatures such as quasits to creep unseen in the lairs of his betters, taking from them what he can as part of a strange ‘game’ he plays with himself. Patron of all manner of beasts and killers whose appearance belies unholy strength and hunger, Caerbannog is overjoyed when he is found by some guardian or predator which mistakes his taken form for his true one. Exploding forth from the body of a quasit, kitten, or--his favorite--a rabbit, he becomes a whirlwind of shredding teeth and claws that can quickly dismember beasts of any size, leaving him to frolic adorably amongst the gore until he grows bored and moves on.

Domains: Animal, Chaos, Evil, Trickery Subdomains: Fur, Demon, Whimsy, Deception Favored Weapon: Claws Symbol: The head of a herbivorous animal with bloodstains around the mouth. Sacred Animals: Rabbits and kill kittens Sacred Colors: White, brown, gray

Obedience: Attack a creature that saw you as harmless or friendly. Preferably this leads to the creature’s death. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to Disguise and Bluff checks.

Boon 1: Harmless Form Boon 2: Beast Shape II Boon 3: Veil

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Vodani, the Demon at the Bottom of the Bottle Chaotic Evil Nascent Demon Lord of Intoxication and Misdirected Anger

Among the most human-looking of any demon, Vodani’s sickly yellow eyes and shark-like teeth betray the truth of his heritage, forcing him to take pains to hide them when he walks among mankind. Appearing as an innocent vagrant, Vodani finds groups of beggars and paupers to infiltrate, gaining their trust and sympathy with gifts of alcohol and stories stolen from his past victims. Over time, he will learn everything he can about them and their lives, what decisions or foul luck brought them to this state, and it’s then he will begin to work to twist their innocent desires for a better life into hatred for foes real and imagined.

There are some who mistake Vodani for a benevolent figure, the Patron (or Prince) of Paupers, uniting the destitute and broken against everything that brought them low, but while his cultists may have their own ideas of revenge, Vodani himself cares little for any true justice; he whips his unwitting victims into mobs united against scapegoats and other innocents, and any long-term good he ends up doing is purely accidental. So long as something or someone is destroyed by the end of the resulting riot, he considers it a success, leaving the poor souls he deceived behind to drink themselves to death and rise again as his children to perpetuate the cycle of violence.

Domains: Chaos, Community, Evil, Trickery Subdomains: Revelry, Riot*, Demon, Espionage Favored Weapon: Improvised weapon Symbol: Two beaten flasks, tankards, or cups toasting. Sacred Animals: None Sacred Colors: Yellow, brown *Followers of Vodani can modify the Community Domain with the Riot Subdomain.

Obedience: Find one or several drunkards and spend one hour conversing with them, weaving in purposefully inflammatory statements against targets of ire, be it yours or theirs. Alternately, spend at least one hour drinking alcoholic drinks while ruminating on everyone that has ever wronged you. Many followers of Vodani perform either obedience by accident. Benefit: Three times per day as a standard action, you may cause a bottle of ale, wine, whiskey, beer, or other mundane, low-quality alcohol to appear in your hand. Each bottle contains enough for two servings. These bottles and their contents disappear after 24 hours, or if you fail to perform your Obedience, though having the drinks on-hand allows you to easily perform it.

Boon 1: Rotgut Boon 2: Malicious Spite Boon 3: Song of Discord

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Galroscul, the Hunger Sealed in Steel Nascent Demon Lord of Cannibalism and Gluttony

In his prime, Galroscul was a terrifying figure to behold. A towering horror in the shape of an anthropomorphic boar with the scales and tail of a dragon, six unblinking eyes on either side of his head, his tusks and claws as powerful as adamantine and his stomach as bottomless as the Abyss itself. He became a Demon Lord by literally eating his way there, legends claiming he consumed an entire Abyssal layer along with every demon and demigod within it to fuel his ascension, and if the stories are anything to go by, he wasn’t nearly close to finished. He had his eye on the throne of gods, hoping that if he drank the blood of Lamashtu, he would stand alongside her and, eventually, devour her as well.

He didn’t even get anywhere close to enacting his plan before he was ambushed by the forces of Zura, lord of cannibals, and Xoveron, lord of gluttons, who both saw his existence as a threat and formed a rare union against him. They drained and consumed what they could of him, leaving him pitifully weakened and, knowing that if they slew him he would simply return to life at full strength, set into motion a plan to humiliate and imprison him with the aid of greedy mortals. On a far-off world, Galroscul has been sealed inside of a great and terrible machine by a cabal of meat-mongers hoping to make their products fiendishly addictive. He rages and starves within this machine, processing countless carcasses but unable to truly eat a single bite, reduced in power to a Nascent Demon Lord and losing more of his sanity with every passing day.

Domains: Animal, Chaos, Destruction, Evil Subdomains: Fur, Demon, Rage, Cannibalism Favored Weapon: Bite Symbol: A boar skull trapped in a metallic diamond. Sacred Animals: Boars and goats Sacred Colors: Red and brown

Obedience: Begin eating a creature while it’s still alive. Alternately, consume a limb taken from a creature within the last 24 hours. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to your AC versus bite attacks and to your CMD against grapple attempts.

Boon 1: Enemy’s Heart Boon 2: Hunger for Flesh Boon 3: Extended Hungry Pit

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Lormlecht, the Dung-Eater Qlippoth Lord of Filth and Sepsis

There are creatures considered disgusting, vomit-inducing, or putrid, and then there is Lormlecht, whose nauseating habits put all others to shame. Once nothing but a harmless scavenger scarcely as large as a finger, the Dung-Eater has gone from vermin to hazard to a lethal danger the size of a sea serpent as it has slithered through the sewers and muck of the Abyss, feasting merrily on the leavings of these twisted civilizations and dragging unwary victims into cesspits to ferment to perfection. Many attempts to destroy the filth-eating abomination have been made by mortal and immortal alike, but on the rare occasions these attempts succeed, they’re tragically short-lived as Lormlecht reforms within the bowels of a living creature infected with Filth Fever.

Lormlecht possesses a unique relationship with the wasting disease, able to cause embryonic qlippoth (especially Chernobue) to form within the bodies of any creature infected with even a mild strain. Any minor contact with its form is capable of causing a full-blown infection, to say nothing of the horrifying fate that befalls anyone who suffers even a glancing blow from its alarmingly equine, filth-slicked teeth; such victims are infested not only with a nearly incurable variant of Filth Fever, but a menagerie of other diseases which resist magical cures and can cause an agonizing, septic death within hours. It’s quite telling that even demons consider being bitten by the Dung-Eater a gruesome and miserable fate.

Domains: Chaos, Death, Evil, Water Subdomains: Caves*, Plague, Corruption, Flotsam Favored Weapon: Club Symbol: A piece of rotted offal impaled on a stick Sacred Animals: Rats and otyughs Sacred Colors: Brown *Followers of Lormlecht can modify the Chaos or Evil Domains with the Caves Subdomain.

Obedience: Spend no more than an hour contaminating an area you expect other creatures to pass through with filth and waste. Benefit: Your body harbors Filth Fever, which does not harm or inconvenience so long as you’ve performed your Obedience within the last 7 days. Any creature which ingests your blood is exposed to the disease (DC 13 negates, as normal).

Boon 1: Mud Buddy Boon 2: Tenacious Stinking Cloud Boon 3: Plague Storm

#original concepts

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yoinkschief · 6 months

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Me when I men

Dog Teeth AU Tom Character Reference Sheet

WARNING: Slight NSFW - Mild, Non-Explicit Nudity under the cut

My other husband I love him so much let me kiss you on the lips volatile ball of angst and anger

My poor boy was cursed with his father's hairline and sress he cannot carry,,, to be fair that last bit was his own doing

I sure hope he looks nautical enough,, I mean I want him to nautical INSPIRED, not a member of the marine court, y'know?

My lover said "very Garp of him" and I think that's that One Piece Marine DILF guy so that's a plus :)

I also wanted his outfit to be a direct contrast to Tord's - I mean red and blue are already contrasts on the color wheel but kinda so is green so I wanted a little more driving force: white against Tord's blacker color palette

While white is supposed to represent purity, I assure you, Tom is anything but

It's more a reflection of how the characters see themselves: Tord KNOWS he's a piece of shit and happily flaunts it because no one can do anything about, he holds it with pride even

But Tom doesn't believe he's being an ass, he thinks he's genuinely doing the right thing or at the very least the lesser of the two evils he was forced into, and than on it's own has some merit but this is just to say Tom isn't exactly the "savior" of the story despite what the white palette may suggest

It certainly is what he wants to portray to the public, however

Mmmmm mann

I'm apparently really into sharp contrasts or something cause I keep shading with very bright colors against very dark shadows,,,, it's really fun actually so whateva

Also that cape thing Tom wears ? Worst thing ever, it's like a texture issues but instead of the texture bothering him it's the uneven amount of weight, like he's painfully aware it's on his left shoulder and not his right and it irks him so badly but "it carries his rebellion's symbol so he has to wear it in public" or whatever

He's really only seen wearing it during important or public matters, when it counts

Otherwise that thing's in the bin

Back in his OG style but with the horrible hairline and salt in his hair

He got a day off

He snuck out of the lime light

"Ohh I drew him naked to show off his tattoos and to talk about them"

No I didn't

I'm a liar

I drew him naked cause I wanted to draw his tits so I did, simple

But I will talk about his tattoos some more :)

First of all: That scar on his left shoulder is from the house rubble, that cut we see on his arm at the end of The End pt. 2, yeah that's where that comes from

As for his tattoos,,

I know I've explained these somewhere but I'm explaining them again cause I dunno if I explained it someone's DMs or not lol

The Harpoon tattoos are pretty self explanatory, and I also just wanted to show off colored tattoos on darker skin complexions cause that's the stupidest argument I've ever heard and black/dark skinned people should be able to get colored tattoos

The rest are kind of important to Tom and the story line,,,ish?:

the Shark Teeth tattoo comes from the time he visited Hawaii to find out more about his father and his Father's side of the family and their customs, traditions, his heritage, etc. etc.

To make a long story short: there's a reason his father doesn't talk about his side of the family often, but it didn't ruin his experience while visiting some lesser hostile family members in Hawaii like his cousins, and he even got to surf with them - which was when they decided to convince him to get the Shark Teeth tattoo

On top of Tom just being really obsessed with sharks and having infinite knowledge on all things shark related, it's supposed to represent strength, guidance and protection which I think is very fitting for Tom

The "Wolf" tattoo kinda stands out because Tom's Irish, not Scottish or any sort of Norse. So why the Nordic rune?

Well :)

Back when Tom and Tord lived together, they weren't always at each other's throats

I think I mentioned this in my Strip Mafia AU reference sheet for Tord ignore how I forgot to flesh out Tom's,,, I have it I just haven't cleaned it up yet but I'm gonna rehash it here really quick:

Tord gave everyone in the house a tattoo he thought best represented them, including himself (which was the Ouroboros tattoo seen on his character sheet) and Tom's was the rune for "wolf" and I think there are very obvious reasons behind it

Tom stays around his friends a lot, he's got more bite than bark, very unfriendly to outsiders, the list goes on really

It's so odd seeing Tom in so much white if I'm being honest

I'm so used to him being in like angst blacks and greys and I don't think he's adjusting any better himself LOL

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midnightcrisisstuff · 6 months

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MY QUEERPLATONIC GIRLFRIEND MADE ME A TRANS BLAHAJ!!! WEEP LESSER MORTALS, WEEP.

photo id:

[BEGIN ID]

Photo 1: midnightcrisisstuff hugs a plush ikea shark (blahaj) to his face. with one hand, he is pointing at the glass window of an aquarium, which a few fish are visible inside. The whole image is cast in a bluish light. Unlike ordinary Blahaj's, this one has coloured stripes the colours of the trans flag.

Photo 2: The same shark is pictured in a cardboard box on a floor. The image has no filter, and the blue, pink, and white is far more visible.

Photo 3: The head of the shark is visible from a blue backpack on midnightcrisisstuff's girlfriends back. In the background, various fish swim behind a glass window in an aquarium.

[END ID]

#queerplatonic #alterous attraction #asexual #if you find this and youre her no you didnt #aromantic #queerplatonic relationship #acearo #qpp #qpr #lgbtqia #transgender #transmasc #qpr couple #blahaj #ikea shark #trans blahaj #sewing #aquarium

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sharkie-malarkie · 3 months

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I want to be ur friend so bad but I am AWKWARDDDDD.

Anyways, lesser known facts about great whites? If not, cookie cutter shark my beloved

DWWW IM SO AWKWARD TOO BUT ID LOVE LOVE LOVE TO BE YOUR FRIEND PLSSS SEND ME A MESSAGE OR SMTH (if ur comfortable obvi 😭) AAAAH

although most sharks are cold-blooded, great whites are actually warm blooded! this means they can regulate their own body temperature!!

2. greats whites eyes are GLOW IN THE DARKKKK. they have a layer of reflective cells behind the retina which allows them to see better in the dark. COULD THEY GET ANY COOLER???

3. another biological feature of great whites is their highly toxic blood. research has shown that the levels of arsenic and mercury in their blood are so high that it would kill most animals. great whites however, seem to be adapted to this toxicity and are unharmed by it.

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enemywasp · 4 days

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Fiction does affect reality, it's scary to see so many people deluded into thinking it doesn't. Minstrel shows full of exaggerated stereotypes are a great example, the phobia of sharks after Jaws, y2k scares, thousands of people assuming furries are a kink because of a CSI episode, the list goes on. Wild that incest and abuse is played off as, best case nothing worst case romanticized these days.

Fiction absolutely can effect reality but it certainly depends on the audience, context and way it is handled.

Minstrel shows were specifically made to make fun of and mock black people, this is is essentially under the category of propaganda. Stereotypes are created and excentuated with the explicit goal of turning the public eye against certain groups. That is definitely a form of fiction designed to effect reality.

The phobia of sharks and shark killing example is mostly a myth, of course it did have a small scale effect but not to the level people often say. For one, it only really effected areas across America. Most shark killings are actually for shark fins or caused by fishing. I'm afraid I don't know the statistics of shark phobias.

I'm no expert of the Y2K scares but as far as I'm aware that was a matter of misinformation and mass panic rather than fiction.

Again we are talking of stereotypes when it comes to furries. I would never for a moment doubt the effect stereotypes have on people's mindsets. CSI has multiple cases of giving small groups a bad name. This happens mostly with minorities or lesser known groups that didn't get large amounts of attention in the public eye until this moment. It is often due to this information being stated as fact and piles of media jumping on this. I remember a furry was also on my strange addiction or a show like that where the directors actively pushed to try and make this poor person's hobby look bad and weird to the public.

Most classic TV shows, fandom content, games and Fanfiction is quite clearly known for not being factual or a basis for real life. Incest, abuse and pedophilia are well known and frowned upon topics. They're crimes, they're morally wrong. There is no unknown here, people reading about this in fiction are not only just hearing about these topics. An author does not have to say these things are bad and immoral directly for people to understand that.

The only content that should be spoon feeding you morals is children's shows, fan spaces are greatly not for children and most fan content is well labelled on its content and warning.

Very few people are going to read a story about incest and suddenly decide that maybe it's not so bad.

When it comes down to it the separation between reality and fiction it mostly depends on each media and each person. It's not a black and white situation

Sorry I am bad at wording things but essentially yes fiction can effect reality but this is not a constant. Every situation is unique.

#another moment of I'm bad with words #but essentially i agree fiction can effect reality #but that doesn't mean it always does or does so on a one to one basis #proship #proshipper #profiction #anti anti

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cartooncreature · 6 months

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There are no signs whatsoever that cars exist in the bugbo universe and despite this I’m making car related / driving headcannons cause fuck you. >:D

Bugbo

He is always driving exactly. the speed limit.

Not a digit over or under.

And he never accelerates or breaks, the car just. is. in the state he wants it to be.

Everyone in the car has to be buckled up, sitting straight forward, feet on the floor, or the car isn’t moving.

(Fights have broken out because of this, usually between him and Hoppo)

He says it’s for safety

(knowing him it’s prolly a power trip thing)

There is no music. Dead silence. Even the wind outside seems quieter

And in the off chance there is music, there’s no lyrics and it’s probably some shit like

“Kahoot Question Music 1 Hour Loop”

And it’s so quiet you can’t even recognize what it is.

If you try to talk to him he’ll respond in short, almost snippy responses

If you keep trying he’ll eventually just point blank say “You know, it’s not very safe or polite to distract the driver.”

Unless he likes you, somehow, then he might have a short conversation with you.

He does the same when he’s a passenger, but to a lesser degree

He’s usually the one who dictates who drives, and, for some reason, he picks Joe a lot.

(Joe doesn’t mind, he likes driving :>)

Hoppo has accused him of being scared of driving before, which he did not take kindly to.

Gerbo

He tends not to drive since cars don’t fit his… build.

He’s all legs, cars aren’t made that way

But in the case that he does, he’d probably drive really slow, mostly out of caution

He most definitely is scared of driving (but Hoppo isn’t gonna say anything to him)

Which isn’t much of an issue considering they probably have the only car on globe

Like that one Yo Gabba Gabba episode

Music wise, I’m not sure

Everyone infantilizes him so much, it drives me crazy

Y’all aren’t listening to Baby Shark 10hr loop

Maybe once for the hype

BUT THATS IT

He probably would listen to more upbeat music,

I have a very limited taste in music and I don’t think he’d like any of my music (It’s all about drugs and wanting to eat the rich or it’s Jack Stauber)

Actually he’d maybe like some Jack Stauber music! Like maybe Buttercup and songs along those lines! His more happy sounding music?

Idk other people with different/better music taste tell me what you think

He doesn’t mind conversation while he’s driving. In fact, I think he likes it!

He likes the casual small talk type conversations, and if they lead into deeper conversations that’s even better!

He offers to drive anytime, but it’s usually either Bugbo or Joe driving, not that he minds. (Please don’t make him drive)

(He does prefer it when Joe drives, but he’d never say it, especially not to bugbo)

Gradient Joe

He’d probably drive the most

He’s the one most… built? for a car?

He tries to drive the speed limit but he might get distracted and speed up or slow down a little

So like, typical driving? I guess?

His music would likely also be more instrumental, mostly because it is a bit easier to focus

And he’s probably driving everyone around, so he’s gonna need some help focusing

But also when it does have lyrics, y’all can fight me on this but I bet he’d like love songs

Like, this isn’t a “omg he’s a romantic he wants to kiss everyone and marry everyone omgggg” thing, more of a like,

Everything is so- rough? All the time?

I mean, he got shoved face fucking first down a mystery hole that was who knows how deep, then guilted into running for mayor with no prep, and then whitenesses a murder, all in around 48 hours

Everything is so fast paced and bright and so much all the time

And love songs are usually much softer, calmer, sweeter

It’s a little moment of peace, you know? Even if it’s just a little distraction before Bugbo ropes him into another wildly overwhelming adventure

Anyway woah car headcannons hi this is what we’re here for jfc

He kinda prefers it to be a little quieter too

(And I think bugbo might, in one of his brief moments of kindness, remind the others to be quieter so he can focus)

If it’s just him and one other person, he might substitute music for listening to them talk

Even if he can’t respond, he likes to nod along and give other people a little break too. Just let them get things off their chest, yk?

I bet he also likes to drive because it is a little tiny bit of control within this chaos ridden mess of a universe.

Why is this one so long? Where did all the gradient joe angst come from? What the hell?

Hoppo

She doesn’t drive often either

Not because she’s built more bug like and so it’s a little awkward for her, she makes that work.

She doesn’t drive because the others won’t let her.

She is driving at least 15 over the speed limit on a “safe” day

Hits curbs like they spat at her grandma

Probably has at least one leg propped up in the seat at all times

only one hand on the wheel

Music. Is. BLASTING.

Marina, Scene Queen, Mother Mother, Sir Chloe, Girl in Red, Penelope Scott, Hemlock Springs, Mitski, Chrissy Chlapecka, Kiki Rockwell, and the occasional Lemon Demon

She has a playlist called “songs to piss bugbo off”

And she’s just casually chatting with whoever is in the front seat while the car shakes from the bass in these songs

Bugbo doesn’t let her drive because he knows she’s doing her best to piss him off

Joe doesn’t let her drive out of pure fear

Gerbo, ironically, is usually in the front seat because he minds her driving the least

If it was just her and Gerbo or Joe she’d prolly tone it down some, maybe at least turn the music down

But if Bugbo is within five miles, you best believe Pink Rover is gonna be shaking the ground he stands on like an earthquake

She’s pretty much the same as a passenger. If Bugbo is driving she’s being obnoxious and goofy, if it’s anyone else she will tone it down some

If Bugbo’s not around she’ll tone it down a lot, maybe just chatting and laughing

(Let me make it clear, she doesn’t dislike bugbo, in fact quite the opposite. But that’s another headcannon for another day)

Thomas Flyswatter

He has the only other car on globe

(I can’t decide if it’s the helicopter he used and it just doubles as a car or if this bitch just has like a Honda civic parked behind his lair)

Driving wise, he’s similar to Joe

Generally pretty typical, though depending on his mood he might speed quite a bit

He rarely, rarely has anyone else in his car

If you even see his car he trusts you a lot

If he drives you around you might as well be besties

Or he pities you (which if this man is pitying you you’ve gotta get your life in check bestie cause holy shit-)

The music he plays depends on his mood and who he’s with

If hes in a villainy “I’m gonna go do evil things mwah ha ha >:D” he’s listening to Toby Fox (and y’all cannot convince me otherwise)

If he’s in a more relaxed mood he, too, may listen to Jack Stauber (probably different than the songs Gerbo would listen to though, some similarities tho) and Definitely some Will Wood

If you are his absolute bestie, like he trusts you with his life, he may, if you’re lucky, break out the broadway music, but only if you’re very lucky

He may be a little quiet at first, but if whoever he’s driving around starts a conversation with him he’ll talk

And also if he’s not talking he’s subconsciously lip syncing because I’m projecting stfu

He also hits curbs a lot

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sharks-and-quarks · 12 days

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Regarding my poll on Goblin Sharks, I thought I'd make a post about their lesser-known lookalike - the Daggernose Shark!

Not only is their name objectively ridiculous (Imagine an assassin called Daggernose), but they are woefully understudied for such a funky little dude

[ID: A realistic illustration of a Daggernose Shark (A small bluish-grey shark with a prominent snout) on a white background. END ID]

Look at him. He hasn't slept for three years and he isn't going to start now. I love him.

(They are also critically endangered, with approximately 250 individuals remaining. I couldn't find a single conservation project focussed on this species. However, if we can push to make their habitat (Northeast coast of South America) a Marine Protected Area, they may yet stand a chance)

#Daggernose Shark #Isogomphodon oxyrhynchus #shark #marine zoology #marine ecology #marine biology #zoology #ecology

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delightingintragedy · 4 months

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Mars Correspondences

From Christian Astrology by William Lilly

(It is mostly word for word. I tried to format it to fit into a nice correspondence list, but the information itself is untouched.)

Zodiac: Aries is his Day-house, Scorpio is his Night-house. Exhaulted in Capricorn, Depressed in Cancer, Detriment in Libra and Taurus.

Nature: Masculine, Nocturnal Planet, in nature hot and dry, choleric and fiery, the lesser Infortune, author of Quarrels, Strifes, and Contentions.

Profession: Princes Ruling by Tyranny and Oppression, or Tyrants, Usurpers, new Conquerors. Generals in Armies, Colonels, Captains, or any Soldiers having command in Armies, all manner of Soldiers, Physicians, Apothecaries, Surgeons, Alchemists, Gunners, Butchers, Marshals, Sergeants, Bailiffs, Hangmen, Thieves, Smiths, Bakers, Armourers, Watchmakers, Botchers, Tailors, Cutlers of Swords and Knives, Barbers, Dyers, Cooks, Carpenters, Gamesters, Bear-wards, Tanners, Curriers.

Diseases: The Gall, the left Ear, tertian Fevers, pestilent burning Fevers, Migraines in the Head, Carbuncles, the Plague and all Plague-sores, Burnings, Ringworm, Blisters, Frenzies, mad sudden distempers in the Head, Yellow-jaundice, Bloodyflux, Fistulas, all Wounds and Diseases in men's Genitals, the Stone both in Reins and Bladder, Scars or small Pox in the Face, all hurts by Iron, the Shingles, and such other Diseases as arise by abundance of too much Choler, Anger or Passion.

Colour: Red colour, or Yellow, fiery and shining like Saffron.

Savour: Those which are bitter, sharp and burn the Tongue.

Herbs: The Herbs which we attribute to Mars are such as come near to redness, whose leaves are pointed and sharp, whose taste is caustic and burning, love to grow on dry places, are corrosive, and penetrating the Flesh and Bone with a most subtle heat: They are as follows: The Nettle, all manner of Thistles, Restharrow or Cammock, Devils-milk or Petty spurge, the white and red Brambles, the white called vulgarly by the Herbalists Ramme, Lingwort, Onions, Scammony, Garlic, Mustard-seed, Pepper, Ginger, Leeks, Dittander, Horehound, Hemlock, red Sanders, Tamarinds, all Herbs attracting or drawing choler by Sympathy, Radish, Castoreum, Aresmart, Assarum, Carduus Benedictus, Cantharides.

Trees: All Trees which are prickly, as a Thorn, Chestnut.

Beasts: Panther, Tiger, Mastiff, Vulture, Fox; of living creatures, those that are Warlike, Ravenous and Bold, the Castor, Horse, Mule, Ostrich, the Goat, the Wolf, the Leopard, the wild Ass, the Gnats, Flies, Lapwing, Cockatrice, the Griffin, Bear.

Fishes, etc: The Pike, the Shark, the Barbel, the Fork-fish, all stinking Worms, Scorpions.

Birds, etc: The Hawk, the Vulture, the Kite or Glead, (all ravenous Fowl), the Raven, Cormorant, the Owl, (some say the Eagle), the Crow, the Pye.

Places: Smith's Shops, Furnaces, Slaughterhouses, places where Bricks or Charcoal are burned or have been burned, Chimneys, Forges.

Minerals: Iron, Antimony, Arsenic, Brimstone, Ochre.

Stones: Adamant, Loadstone, Bloodstone, Jasper, the many coloured Amethyst, the Touchstone, red Lead or Vermilion.

Weather: Red Clouds, Thunder, Lightning, Fiery impressions, and pestilent Airs, which usually appear after a long time of dryness and fair Weather, by improper and unwholesome Mists.

Winds: Western Winds

Angel: Samael

Planetary Alliances: His Friends are only Venus; Enemies all the other planets.

Week Day: Tuesday

Correspondence posts for the other planets: [Sun] [Moon] [Mercury] [Venus] [Jupiter] [Saturn]

#astrology #planets #mars #planetary #planetary magic #correspondences #magic #witchcraft #witchblr #astrology witch #magical correspondences #witches #witch community #witch #astro community #zodiac #zodiac signs #astroblr #astrology facts

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motley-box-rose-1 · 10 months

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Warren “Great White Shark” White. You know, that one lesser known Batman villain who’s especially characterized as a complete a**hole?

#warren white #dc comics #batman rogues #arkham asylum living hell #fanart #my own doodles #he still looks wonky here but eh #my own take on him

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swimonzine · 1 year

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APPLY HERE!

Swim On is a yearly charity zine dedicated to shark preservation. All proceeds the zine makes go directly to finfree.org

The zine will go up on https://topazcomics.com/swimon for $1+ (pay what you can) All Swim On zines can be found at https://topazcomics.com/swimon/downloads

All artists at any skill level are welcome to apply! Everyone who applies will receive an email, so be sure to whitelist [email protected]

Any information in this application can be found at topazcomics.com/swimon

Submission Guidelines - Your piece must be 6”x9” (1800x2700px) at 300dpi JPG or PNG in RGB - There is no theme the zine, just sharks! - A shark must be the focus of the piece (humans & other animals are allowed to be present) - You must submit a full completed piece, no rough sketches, or blank white backgrounds will be accepted - Comics, traditional and digital artwork are all accepted - You are welcome to submit more than one piece - Only new pieces will be accepted, please do not submit a piece that you have made previously - Lesser known species are encouraged! - For species examples check out this site - No anthropomorphic, half-human or prehistoric sharks - Absolutely no AI art will be permitted - No nsfw content (including gore, death, blood – this is a G-rated zine)

Applying You will need to provide 1 url to showcase your work. This can be a tumblr, twitter, instagram, google drive, etc. Please: - Make sure your work is easily accessible and easy to find on your website of choice - Showcase that you can finish a full illustration or comic page - You can change your credit name or url after the rough pdf is sent out - You will receive a copy of the application after you apply, if you did not receive it please email [email protected] - This zine’s communication is through email only, there will not be a discord.

Schedule May 5 – Call for artists opens May 19 – Call for artists closes May 27 – Artists Announced July 14 – Submissions are DUE July 28 – Rough PDF is sent to artists/adjustments made August 4 – Zine goes live September 4 – Artists can post their full pieces publicly September 30 – All proceeds donated to finfree.org

If you have any questions about the zine, applying or submitting you can contact me at: [email protected]

#swim on #swimonzines #shark #sharks #zine #application #zine application #call for artists #charity zine #swim on 2023

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excentricat1 · 1 year

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Ishmael out here giving me an excuse to dump shark facts on everyone.

He refers to the “white shark” which today generally means Carcharodon carcharias. This is a member of the mackerel shark family. But this shark is fully countershaded. It’s belly is white but it’s back and fins are grey. A swimming great white shark would not be noted for its whiteness. It’s also found throughout the world in coastal waters, not limited to the tropics.

But there is another. Now known commonly as the oceanic white tip, it was once called the “lesser white shark.” Carcharhinus longimanus ranges throughout the open tropical oceans. It can be recognized by the white tips on each of its fins. And, it’s a member of the requiem shark family.

#whale weekly #sharks #white shark

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cypriathus · 2 months

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Here is my version of Asbeel/Sarial/Aamon!

Äzosubhel, born as Kamuszoriel Amoheszur, is a maltheist fallen angel who believes that the titans possess great jealousy, using it as an excuse to guard their power at the expense of the Cosmos’ creation. He also believes that they aggressively hoard their power so that they may protect themselves from annihilation. Unlike many of his angelic brethren, he would never harm a mortal unless reasonably provoked into doing so. He’s incredibly compassionate, a willingness to help alleviate the suffering of others and ensure that they’re of sound mind. He possesses a great deal of patience, carefully observing people and situations unfold from a distance before acting in a reasonable manner. However, he does have a bit of a temper, lashing out at those who get under his skin and don’t respect his boundaries. He’s serious-minded, no-nonsense, and extremely loyal, but can come off as pompous and posh that makes him childish and playful. Despite this noticeable pride, Äzosubhel is fully aware that he isn’t above lying, cheating, and the act of kindness.

When in his angel form, his skin is like a moonflower with greyish-pink speckles and his eyes are a metallic purple-orange. He has reef gold eyelashes, shark-like teeth, and vicious yellowish scars across his face and upper body. His taper fade haircut is a ripe plum, and he has a bronze septum, silver snake bites, and golden industrial, helix, daith, and anti-tragus piercings. He wears shimmering elf green harem pants with silver-and-white checkered sides and gilt-brass anklets. Äzosubhel dons a silky seance crop top that features a high neckline with an asymmetrical shoulder strap detail and a draped look. In the middle of the crop top, there’s a golden waning gibbous moon with a black crescent shadow, bronze moon craters, and pink and orange rays of light encircling it. He also wears detachable seance sleeves with a few pink Japanese clouds, reaching partially above his elbows.

When in his infernal form, he has the body and forelegs of a grey wolf, the tail of a green anaconda, silver-haired bat wings, and a lesser sooty owl’s head. His beak shows yellowed and crooked canine teeth, and his scaly, bipedal legs are in a shade of powder blue with draconic feet and a grotesque musculature.

Äzosubhel has knowledge and manipulative control over the phases of the moon, the lunar calendar, past and future events, methods of protection, reproduction, and cryptic dreams. He can observe bloodshed and the lives of sinners simultaneously, and use his evil eye to cause injury to anyone it falls upon. He’s capable of preventing mortals from sinning and shapeshifting into his angelic and demonic forms on a whim. In order to travel across the multiverse, he can use moon rocks and abandoned ruins to teleport. His raw strength allows him to split planets in half, and cause several shockwaves and earthquakes. He can resolve serious conflicts through Faustian bargains, but will only do so on the condition that the person gives up their voice, sight or hearing. As a result, he can instantly reconcile controversies between friends and foes, and procure love and feuds. Äzosubhel has a fiery and poisonous breath, and his physical and mental strength are increased tenfold during the day.

FAMILY:

Unknown

ALIASES/NICKNAMES:

Asbeel

Sariel

Aamon

Angel of the Waning Moon and Ruin

The Lone Seeker

FUN FACTS/EXTRA INFORMATION:

As an Æylphitus, his name means “god has forsaken me”. In regards to his birth name, Kamuszoriel means “god is my ruler” and Amoheszur means “long hair”.

He fell from grace due to his belief that the titans are tyrants who choose destructive solutions rather than completely cleaning away the wickedness in mortal hearts.

He’s the marquis of Barbarity

He commands forty legions of demons

#writerscorner #writing #creative writing #original character #personality #physical appearance #outfit #abilities #power #asbeel #sariel #aamon #fallen angel #marquis #maltheist #ruin #moon #fun facts #extra information

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grecoisms · 4 months

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title: rumpelstiltskin

pairing: kim wexler x lalo salamanca

rating: E

summary: "She looks up de Guzman, Jorge in Jimmy’s files, puts on her sharpest suit and her calmest face and lies herself through the jail entrance to meet Lalo Salamanca."

When she was thirteen, Kim would count the minutes between said and done. And if her mother would say five o’clock, and arrive at six ten; then at least Kim would have something to measure in the meantime, and that time, well, was no time lost. Exercise and experience, all in one. And if her mother would arrive even later, smelling of booze and sometimes sex, then it would still be worth it. The wait. The dark. The walk.

Jimmy goes out to the wide, wild desert, despite the warning signs and despite her pleas. Were it a court, Kim would eat him alive. But it’s the bedroom, their bedroom, and the light seeps in so tenderly. It’s a day when anything is possible and a seven million dollar bail is but a walk in the park. He says Lalo wants him, trusts him to do it, and all will be well. So instead of cursing some more, she bits her tongue and empties her mind and lies on their bed, trying to forget the fear and the doubts. And the name Lalo.

Kim doesn’t know it yet, but she will never forget that name. Ever.

The day after, Kim dreams of herself walking in the desert with her husband. Husband, she thinks, tastes it with care - such a foreign word, even in this dreamworld. Funny on her tongue and on her mind. In the dream, her childhood cello is on her back, and her heart is in her chest: so, so heavy. But because she is Kim Wexler, and not one of the damsels from the black and whites, and she wakes up drenched in sweat at four am, she doesn’t gasp or scream.

Her mind is clear, clean. Alert.

Decides to go back to sleep, as if it were a cure. No dreams this time – only the present to haunt and grasp.

When she wakes up in the morning, there are no calls.

No Jimmy.

„They suit you.”

Her mother’s voice is loud - the windows are rolled all the way down as they rush home, the car ride silent, except for the sound of Kim’s hands flying at her new earrings, fiddling, testing. Simple triangles, pointing down. Modern, some would call it. Kim just wonders where they are pointing exactly.

„Here” says her mom, right arm reaching for the sun visor mirror, flipping it. „Aren’t you a sight?”

There is a smile in her voice, all white. Shark-sharp.

Kim doesn’t smile. Stealing came too easy. But the fact that there is no shame, that’s worse. That’s vile. At least it should be, and that’s not a laughing matter.

The face in the mirror is pale and the eyes of her reflection are shrewd and serious.

A stranger.

„Oh, chin up, would you?” chides her mom, and lights up a cigarette.

Around them, the sky glows grey in the late afternoon. Kim closes the mirror, looks out the window, up at the sky. Pretends the tears in her throat are from the smoke.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say.

There was a time when Kim played safe, and then a time when she still wanted to play safe but started to risk more and more, but now she grudgingly sheds this wish, this mask, and puts on another. Looks up de Guzman, Jorge in Jimmy’s files, puts on her sharpest suit and her calmest face and lies herself through the jail entrance to meet Lalo Salamanca.

Lalo’s mask is better than hers, and his eyes are very, very dark.

Fleetingly, as if an instinct, Kim feels like a child again - walking alone, her mother passing her by, the silence deafening. She remembers the fright she felt, but also the thrill, because the road ahead of her was dark and unseeable and all she had was herself.

Lalo Salamanca’s eyes are the dark of that road – a strange shadowless color, and his silence is that of that endless road, leading nowhere. A lesser man would run, she’s certain.

But because Kim is not a man, and far from a lesser one, she steels her voice and names him.

„Mr. Salamanca –”

When you name something, you take away some of its power, read the prologue of her Grimm’s book she foolishly read till she was fifteen. What was the story again? The one with the name-game? Spin that straw into gold, or else…

The name makes the mask of indifference slip, and Kim sees Lalo get angry. Wonders if Jimmy ever saw him like this – and then the thought of him makes her mask slip completely, the pretend-coolness gone; replaced by desperation crawling in, a snare on her soul.

„Who the hell are you that he tells you my business?” he bites on the consonants, hard. And even though he is the one in prison, Kim is the one who feels in a cage, cornered.

Marriage, Kim explains, sensibly, calmly. And trust and confidentiality. She is careful to push the name Saul forward, hide the reality away, even though Lalo’s eyes are like a great well: swallowing up everything.

You’re his wife, he smiles when he realizes, and his smile is like that of a wolf’s. Whatever glee is in them, is only there for the blood.

Then he mentions love like it’s a move in a chess game. Even though this love made Kim break her mask.

Even though it made her come in here. To him.

„Calm down, Mrs. Goodman – your husband” he says, he laughs away, incredulous at the revelation that Saul Goodman has a wife. „He is like the cucaracha. Born survivor.”

„Just tell me” Kim’s voice is still strong, but there is that all-too-familiar feeling of losing. „Tell me where you sent him. That’s all I need to know.”

Lalo’s mask is mercury: all-lines when he laughs in her face, at her.

If you want to learn how to swim, the coach says after her third attempt, just jump into the water.

Kim is fifteen and wants to disappear.

She reckons the water will help, but the real problem is that she cannot see how deep it is, not from above. The whole class is watching now. Kim hasn’t bothered to learn their names yet, she isn’t sure how long they will last in this neighbourhood.

Still, this doesn’t change the fact that everyone else knows how to swim and she does not.

Come on, kid, says the coach. Big breath. It’s just a leap.

The water in the pool is a crystal kind of blue, unreal. She can see till the porcelain tiles at the bottom, but cannot tell how far down they are and whether she will sink or stay up. Being a laughing stock is not the worst thing that can happen, but Kim is not sure what she’s afraid of exactly.

She takes a big breath, but doesn’t take the leap for a long-long time.

„He called me Mrs. Goodman” Kim says when they are under the covers at last.

Jimmy is tanner by two shades at least, and his skin smells too much of the sun and the sand, but he is wonderfully alive, even in his aching. And even with the bag of money, and even what is hidden underneath the money, Kim finds herself full of stupid, aimless joy. Foreign feeling.

There is an itch to touch him every two minutes, but since Kim has known control as a sister her whole bright life, she scratches the sensitive skin next to her thumb until it breaks open instead, drawing blood. It’s a rare and bad habit, and she bandages it before going to bed.

„Yeah?” asks Jimmy, his grin loopsided and mangled in the half-light from behind. It’s not clear whether it’s honest or not. It has stopped being the point for some time now.

„It was a bit odd.” A confession.

„Bad odd or good odd?” Jimmy asks, slow.

There is another question behind this question.

Coffee-mug with a hole in it.

It’s not bad or good, she wants to say. It was a conjecture on Salamanca’s part, a good guess. A challenge, even, if Kim focuses back on the memory a bit more – the whimsy in his eyes, the smugness that comes with holding the knowledge like a knife.

Lalo didn’t need to say it out loud, but his stare and the choice of her name was clear as a bell.

I know you, the dead stare said. You can hide all you want, I'll still know.

Kim thinks of straws and golds and how a name can change everything.

„Just odd” she says at last, turning to turn off the lamp - the dark comes as a comfort.

Lalo is robust and large: that was obvious already at the counsel table, despite the chains.

In here, their home, he is positively towering. He makes them the guest and he, the host. Strong shoulders and sturdy hips, standing taller than both of them. Kim knows he could kill them without the gun, almost like taking a breath and a leap - effortless. When he bends to knock on the fish tank, she spots a faint birthmark on his neck. Should make him more human. But it doesn’t.

When he turns to Jimmy, his eyes are blacker than black and his face is all hard lines.

„I found your car” he says, the warning imminent between the words said and unsaid. „In a ditch.”

Kim is still dressed for work, ready for court, ready to fight. She’d be more than content to stay silent, because all she feels is a fear so primal that her ears are ringing with it, blood pounding. But then Jimmy mentions the duffel bag and the money – and Kim wants to scream, because her husband seems to have forgotten that there is a coffee mug with a bullet hole in it. And that the distance between said and done in Lalo’s case would merge very quickly into each other once he sees the evidence of the lie.

When she stands, she catches her reflection in the tank, strangely twisted, pale, desperate again. There is a faint glow around her face: she like to think it’s her mother’s earrings.

All in.

All rise.

There is some shaking on her part and there is a surprise on his. Can see it in the way his eyes widen and darken. He tries to mask his anger, and does a good enough job, but then the facade melts, and there is something else underneath, peeking out, ugly. Doubt.

And Kim latches onto that, and pulls him down, down, down. Prepares for the final blow.

Knowledge like a knife.

„You need to get your house in order” she sticks it in, bold, bold, bold.

„Oh really?” there is some fake bravado on Lalo’s part, trying to cover all the doubt with a laugh. But it’s Kim’s turn to see, to know. The way his skin jumps near his eyes, she can see Lalo’s anger changing direction, thoughts turning, his doubts overflowing.

And though she has lost last time, she knows that she is winning this round now.

Stop torturing the one man who went through hell to save your ass, she says.

Lalo stares, an endless tunnel. He stares at Kim then to Jimmy Saul.

There is a pause that seems to lasts a lifetime.

Nothing said, nothing done.

He leaves, his absence, too, is alike a bullet hole.

"Oh!" answered the girl, "I have got to spin gold out of straw, and I don't understand the business." Then the little man said: "What will you give me if I spin it for you?" - "My necklace," said the girl. The little man took the necklace, seated himself before the wheel, and whirr, whirr, whirr! three times round and the bobbin was full; then he took up another, and whirr, whirr, whirr! three times round, and that was full; and so he went on till the morning, when all the straw had been spun, and all the bobbins were full of gold.

„He died in a massive firefight at his compound. Over a half dozen people were killed.”

These violent delights – Kim thinks, but she cannot picture Eduardo Salamanca dead. The very thought is absurd, a paradox. Even in these two pictures laid out before her, unmoving, he looks violently alive, ready to step out the picture.

Still. Fire is a fitting death for him.

Flames, then ashes.

Nothing to grasp at.

Nothing is a coincidence or makeshift when it comes to his mind.

They are a bit similar in this sense, Kim thinks, trying to push the thrill out of the thought.

She looks up the meaning of his pseudonym after she finds out he is actually alive, no flames and ashes, oh no. How fitting. And she is running in circles in her mind now, because she cannot tell Jimmy, she cannot, not when he finally calmed down, and not when he agreed to the hoax and they are so close to the finish line. Kim doesn’t like to think of that too much. Because then what?

Her index finger flies to her thumb, scratching as she types in the name, Guzman.

There is a habitational explanation: the name derives from a village in Spain. It’s a fairly common family name.

The other explanation makes her finger bleed. Guzman or good man – and it goes on about nobilities, but Kim’s heart is already in her throat, dry and tight. Good man is enough.

She thinks of that dark-dark road, her mother disappearing suddenly, and herself, alone.

The lines between fear and fascination.

Kim is fifteen and a half.

When she jumps into the pool, she squeezes her eyes shut lest she sees the bottom of the pool and loses courage again. The water is thick and cool – there is a static here like nowhere else on earth. Her body becomes unimportant; secondary.

When she jumps again, it’s already with eyes open, ready to fall.

Titusville is already hot in April, the cruellest month. The sun glares down at her like a father too strict, the one Kim never had, but perhaps needed.

She doesn’t have too much so it’s easy to move in.

Settling in is a different question. It’s hard to admit, but she has trouble sleeping in the first months – it’s everything and nothing at the same time. But she has no right to complain anymore and no reason to replay the scene again and again. What’s done is done. Her cross to bear, she thinks sometimes, and bites down on her lips, till they turn white. She takes great care of not reading about the happenings in Albuquerque.

Sometimes, not often, but mostly on Fridays, she takes a different road home from work. A foreign one. Sometimes, she goes to the pools down at Wirz Park, puts her bare feet in, enjoying the coolness. Sometimes, she watches corny movies with friends, but never black and whites, those would be too much. And her life has only black and whites nowadays, it’s not like she needs that genre anymore. She doesn’t need much. Doesn’t want –

And sometimes, she sees flashes of the past, unbound and unravelling.

There is a businessman whose side profile looks exactly like Chuck’s across the street from the seven-eleven she visits twice a month. The first time she sees him in the sun, she almost leaves without paying. She runs into Ernie and his fiancée by accident around the fifth month, and there is a woman called Fanny whose eyes are soft like Paige’s were when they were younger.

The past lets go, she thinks. It’s her conscience that doesn’t. The first time she visits the public library, they have fifteen used copies of Howards End, and Kim would laugh if she wasn’t feeling so damn sick, no courage anymore, just a shell of a woman, running a place called home, the meaning thrown into the trash.

There is no one like Jimmy though.

And no one like Lalo, for that matter.

She dreams only of one, and this time, she doesn’t have to pretend.

She can scream all she wants.

„Send her” says Jimmy, charismatic as ever. All those unsaid emotion turning to deed. All that love streaming out the wrong way, because there is no better way here. Not anymore. „I mean, you would open the door for her, would you?”

Although Howard died instantly, his blood haloes everywhere, as if all that life would want out-out-out. Proof of a crime. Kim watches as the redness reaches the leg of the table, and thinks of the bottom of the pool back in Nevada. How the body is but secondary.

Soulless.

She cannot stop shaking. She cannot focus, the words around her a haze, excerpts she should hear. Lalo is there, the black of his eyes bright in the candlelight, his face evermoving. Kim tries to focus on his grinning mouth, forming syllables.

„She is too clever.” he puts his index to his temples, knocking. „Won’t stick to the plan.”

„She will” Jimmy is good, but the desperation is there, like it was when she saw Lalo for the first time. She wonders if it all went south there, but the thought escapes her, it rushes out of her mind like her sanity. „She should go.”

„Jimmy” her voice sounds faraway, underwater, sluggish. „What’re you doing?”

No, that can’t be right.

„I don’t think she can stick to the plan.”

„No, I can’t –”

„You know she can. She will!”

„Please, Jimmy, Jim-”

„She has to be the-”

„Enough” it’s not a bellow, but close to a shout. „Joder, you’re a headache, Goodman. Get up.”

There is a thud when Lalo kicks Howard’s foot away, and comes closer. Points the gun at Jimmy.

When he speaks, his voice is low again.

„You go. Be a man for the lovely Mrs. Goodman here. I’ll keep her good company.” He looks down at the floor, mock-pondering. „If you hurry up, she won’t get an drop of blood on her, I pinky promise.”

„Lalo” Jimmy says in a small voice, pleading. Makes Kim want nothing more than to smoke a cigarette. Makes her want to crawl out of her own skin.

But it’s past negotiations and pleadings. Kim can see it from his gaze: something has cracked in Lalo’s eyes and the million broken pieces have let out something vicious and unhinged. Even more than before.

„Chop-chop” Lalo whispers. „Time’s ticking.”

Very slowly, as if gravity held him back, Jimmy stands up and takes the keys from the table. There is a flash of a second as they lock eyes, - her shaking her head ever slightly and him blinking, so slow as if to memorize - before he opens the door and walks out.

There is only Lalo now, and Kim across him.

Between them: a thing unsaid, a deed undone, and a dead body.

It’s not a fight, it never was, Kim realizes as Lalo is coming nearer. Even if it had been, she has lost it several rounds ago. And worse, she thinks, with her mind racing and her nerves like threads disintegrating: Howard is dead. And his death was a group project. Theirs. The man across him pulled the trigger, but it was them. Jimmy and her.

Mrs. Goodman.

Almost nothing is certain in this hour, not Jimmy coming back alive, not Lalo keeping his word, not them leaving here unchanged. But there is one thing. She looks at the blood on the floor near her socks. Kim doesn’t want to die like this. Even though there is no more strength in her for a mask, she has to try. And Lalo is already near her, sitting down on the couch as if he was invited. He puts the gun on the far left side of the table and very slowly, almost gently he reaches for her.

His hands touching her are akin to an alarm going off.

Instinct makes her keep the distance so she bends away. It’s difficult. Not much space left on the couch.

Lalo shushes her when she moves again.

“Don’t” says Kim, and cannot bear to look at him. She twists herself, hoping he will leave her lying on the couch. “I’m going to be sick.”

It’s no use, she knows. Knew it from the very beginning. He is very strong, after all. And his palms are dry and heavy when he pulls her closer, breath heavy and whatever skin showing, hot. Like always, he seems to be everywhere.

“Vamos, no seas tan testaruda, belleza” he murmurs, squeezing her arm with one hand and reaching for the back of her neck with the other. “You were so tough before, no? Don’t get shy now.”

And Kim doesn’t want to look at him at all, doesn’t want to do anything, but his hands are already guiding her neck and now she is looking straight into his smiling face.

“I just want to know.” he says, mimicking their second talk, the one where she felt winning. And he is smiling again, but Kim knows his act by now – he is a Venus flytrap. Always some poison inside, ready to devour. His eyes are dead still, black like the drying blood seeping in the carpet.

“What do you want to know?”

“Your husband, he, uh, had the decency to look surprised at least. But you didn’t even bat an eye.” he pulls his mouth down, comical, but Kim wants to cry. Deep down, she knows what is unravelling here, set in stone from the beginning. From the moment she set foot in the cell and named him. “How did you know?”

“Know what?” Old Kim is still there somewhere, under her soulless shell, bold, and looking into his eyes, both the lie and the refusal blatant.

Lalo’s mouth twitch as he slides his hands under her sweatshirt. His hand is like a torch on her skin. Old Kim would kick and scratch, but she is tired today and does not want to die. She chooses to wait. Her stomach turns – there are no games to play anymore.

“Qué mujer tan inteligente…tan frío” Lalo whistles low. “You know how to burn a man, don’t you?” he spreads his palm, his thumb reaching for a nipple. Kim bites down on her tongue. Thinks of the road and the dark.

You never listen, Kim.

Lalo continues.

“How did you know I was alive?”

It’s no use closing her eyes, she can still see his outline, harsh and black behind her eyelids. Like a man burning up, he radiates heat on his own as brings his face closer to hers. If she wanted, she could count his eyelashes, count his birthmarks. Should make him more human.

“I didn’t even know you were dead.” she answers. Just to prove her lie, looks him dead in the eye. Lalo is looking at her with eyes half-open, the shadows deepening the folds and lines on his mercury-face, so sharp, and his hair streaked with grey, strange-silvery in the yellow light. There is no telling how large his pupils are or whether the smile that melts off his face was ever there at all.

“Well” he rasps, grasping her neck from under, pushing her down into the soft material of the couch. Pats her down, half-caressing, testing. “When all is said and done, sometimes living people walk around like the dead. Usted sabe lo que quiero decir?”

“I don’t understand.”

Softly, he pulls of her clothes one by one, as if they were lovers, but she knows it’s a game with the highest stakes. Still, knowledge means nothing. Instinct overrides all, and her heart jumps in her throat when he reaches down to touch her, shamefully wet, fear and fascination one. She wants to spit on him, but she fears he’d like it.

But he just stares the wetness on his fingers and slowly, succinctly licks them dry. If it’s possible, his eye darken even more, and then he pushes himself on her hips, so heavy and sudden that the air escapes her.

“Sweet little nothings in Spanish, Mrs. Goodman.” he reaches to undo his shirt, his belt, his jeans, and all, one by one, meticulously, down to the ground, onto the blood. He is left-handed. “To help you feel at ease. Like nothing is happening.”

He is strong and big and full of dark hair that curl strangely between his thighs.

Kim makes one last attempt at rationality. Old Kim, she’d approve. She eyes the gun, but it’s too far and he is too heavy. When she wiggles, Lalo puts his legs on top of hers: a warning.

“This can go two ways, hermosa.”

Desperately, she makes one attempt to read the clock on the wall, but then his towering figure comes into vision, dominating and blocking the view. All he is wearing is a necklace with a pendant, golden in the light, hanging onto her face as he positions himself at her entrance and takes his cock in his hand.

“Please, – ”

She is cut off by the sheer force of the penetration and his groan, low in her left ear as he bends down to her face, his closeness, suffocating. There is some softness on his belly, she can feel it, as he thrusts himself up and down on her, contrasting the hardness sheathed in her, splitting her open.

No gasp, no scream.

The gentleness disappears quickly – falls away like a body in the water. When she tries to force his head away, he bites her on the neck, a rabid thing. She scratches his face, near his temple, and grabs at his neck, near his birthmark, sinking in her nails that are too short to do hurt. It’s their third fight, and even if she cannot win –

She loses her train of thought as he unfolds her leg wider and sinks deeper in. When he does, his nose bumps into hers, and he grins. Kim cannot see it, but imagines the blood in his mouth, foaming. His hair falls onto her face, tickling, soft.

“Be nice” he is quite breathless as he holds her down by the hips – she’s started wiggling again some time ago. “Estabas tan mojada. You don’t have to pretend.”

To be honest: it’s no use pretending. She tried shutting her eyes close and turning her mind off, but Lalo is too big, too wide, to tall, too warm and too invasive and too…everything. So Kim raises her legs a bit and squeezes.

Lalo’s breath hitches.

“Cristo –” he grabs her face between his hands, and for a moment, Kim imagines him just crushing her skull. The mental scene makes her spine arch. He is looking straight down at her, eyes crazed and wild, mouth just slightly open. And when she squeezes again, it is involuntary. “I knew what you were the moment you sat down at that table – all sharp and cool; just like – Dios -”

He comes suddenly, hot seeds seeping all inside, sticking in the heat between their bodies. For a moment, Lalo is at his most vulnerable, his body like a corpse, heaving on hers, undone, taking deep breaths. Kim doesn’t have to look at all to know he has made many marks on her.

Mike tells them he is dead, the day after. The light seeps in, so tender, but Kim feels like this flat has dimmed in an irreparable way. Something’s off.

He is dead.

But then again.

Kim has already heard that version.

#lalo salamanca #kim wexler #lalo x kim #better call saul fic #bcs fic #bcs #my writing

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