#Underwater World Price

[minisiam]

Discover the Wonders of Underwater World Pattaya: A Must-Visit Aquarium

For visitors seeking an extraordinary encounter with marine life in Thailand, Underwater World Pattaya offers a captivating experience like no other. Located in the vibrant coastal city of Pattaya, this expansive aquarium showcases a dazzling array of marine species and immersive underwater exhibits, making it one of the top Pattaya attractions for tourists of all ages. In this guide, we’ll walk you through everything you need to know to plan your visit—from Underwater World price details to its location and timing—to ensure you make the most of your time in this stunning Pattaya aquarium.a

Location and Address of Underwater World Pattaya

Underwater World Pattaya is conveniently located in southern Pattaya, making it easily accessible for both local and international visitors. Its full address is:

Underwater World Pattaya, 22/22 Moo 11, Sukhumvit Road, Nongprue, Banglamung, Pattaya City, Chonburi, Thailand.

Underwater World Highlights and Marine Life Exhibits

The aquarium is renowned for its incredible marine life displays and offers a variety of zones dedicated to different underwater habitats. The highlights include:

Touch Pool: This interactive area lets visitors get up close with starfish, sea cucumbers, and other fascinating creatures.

Coral Reef Zone: Home to colorful reef fish and corals, this section mimics the vibrant marine environment found in Thailand’s oceans.

Open Ocean Zone: Walk through a 100-meter-long tunnel with a panoramic view of rays, sharks, and more.

Jellyfish Zone: A mesmerizing experience featuring a range of jellyfish that glow beautifully under colored lighting.

Feeding Shows: Watch divers feed the fish and rays as part of the scheduled daily feedings, making for an unforgettable experience.

These Underwater World highlights make the aquarium a favorite among Thai tourism spots, especially for families and marine life enthusiasts.

Underwater World Pattaya Timings

To make the most of your visit, it’s essential to know the Underwater World timing. The aquarium is open daily, so you can plan a visit at your convenience.

Opening Hours: 9:00 AM to 6:00 PM

Last Entry: 5:30 PM

These hours give you plenty of time to explore each exhibit, attend feeding shows, and capture memories in this stunning Pattaya aquarium.

Underwater World Pattaya Ticket Information

When it comes to Underwater World tickets, there are multiple options available to suit different budgets and preferences. The Underwater World entrance ticket includes access to all main exhibits, and prices vary for adults and children.

Underwater World Price for Adults: Approx. 500 THE

Underwater World Rate for Children: Approx. 300 THB (rates may vary for locals and tourists)

For a seamless experience, it’s recommended to book Underwater World tickets in advance. Various online platforms offer Underwater World bookings, often with discounts. You can check these out on the official website or through trusted travel sites specializing in Thai tourism.

How to Book Underwater World Pattaya Tickets

Booking Underwater World tickets is simple, whether through the aquarium’s official website or via online travel agencies that offer the best Pattaya tour packages. Many platforms provide exclusive deals, so be sure to compare rates before purchasing. Booking in advance is especially helpful during peak tourist seasons, as it allows you to avoid long lines and ensure a stress-free visit.

Reviews and Visitor Experience

Underwater World reviews from past visitors are overwhelmingly positive, highlighting the engaging displays and well-maintained facilities. Families, in particular, appreciate the educational value of the exhibits, while solo travelers and couples find it a relaxing break from Pattaya’s bustling beaches. The aquarium’s interactive zones, like the Touch Pool, receive special mentions for their hands-on approach to marine life education.

For tourists looking for Pattaya attractions that combine fun and learning, Underwater World Pattaya is highly recommended. It’s also a popular stop on many best Pattaya tours that include a variety of local attractions.

Tips for Visiting Underwater World Pattaya

To maximize your experience, here are a few practical tips:

Plan Your Visit: Aim to arrive in the morning to avoid crowds and catch the early feeding shows.

Capture Memories: Photography is allowed, so bring your camera to snap shots of the vibrant marine life.

Check Online Rates: As mentioned, booking can offer discounts. Look for bundled deals that include other Pattaya attractions.

Explore Nearby: After visiting the aquarium, you can explore nearby Pattaya attractions or enjoy the city’s beaches and local markets.

Why Visit Underwater World Pattaya?

For those curious about Thailand’s rich marine ecosystem, Underwater World Pattaya is a unique experience that combines entertainment, education, and conservation. The aquarium’s immersive design and impressive variety of marine species offer a glimpse into the wonders of the underwater world, sparking a sense of wonder and respect for ocean life.

Whether you’re traveling with family, friends, or solo, Underwater World Pattaya promises an enriching day out, filled with excitement, learning, and moments of awe. By including it in your itinerary, you’ll discover why it ranks among the best Pattaya tours and why Thai tourism encourages visitors to dive into this unforgettable aquatic adventure.

[etgroupil]

اكتشف عالم البحث عن الكنوز بتقنية لا مثيل لها مع جهاز "جاريت اي اس ايي ابيكس"، الذي يتمتع بقدرة عميقة على الكشف تصل إلى 2 متر. يتيح لك هذا الجهاز عزل الأهداف المعدنية بكفاءة عالية، بفضل ميزة عزل الحديد التي تمكنك من التحكم في الأصوات التي تسمعها، مما يقلل من الإزعاج الناتج عن الأهداف غير المرغوب فيها. يتميز Apex بثمانية تعديلات لسمك المعدن، مما يجعله الأكثر مرونة في نطاقه السعري. سواء كنت تبحث عن العملات، أو تغوص في الآثار تحت الماء، أو تنقب في الأماكن البحرية، فإن تقنية Multi-Flex Multi-Frequency تجعل من Apex الخيار الأمثل لجميع أنشطة البحث والاستكشاف.

اكتشف المزيد حول جاريت اي اس ايي ابيكس وتعمق في عالم الاستكشاف تحت الأرض.

🌐 رابط موقعنا في ألمانيا:

الواتساب:

رابط موقعنا على الخريطة:

#جاريت #كشف_المعادن #تكنولوجيا_جاريت #استكشاف #بحث_عن_الكنوز #غوص #تنقيب #آثار

[etgroupps]

اكتشف عالم البحث عن الكنوز بتقنية لا مثيل لها مع جهاز "جاريت اي اس ايي ابيكس"، الذي يتمتع بقدرة عميقة على الكشف تصل إلى 2 متر. يتيح لك هذا الجهاز عزل الأهداف المعدنية بكفاءة عالية، بفضل ميزة عزل الحديد التي تمكنك من التحكم في الأصوات التي تسمعها، مما يقلل من الإزعاج الناتج عن الأهداف غير المرغوب فيها. يتميز Apex بثمانية تعديلات لسمك المعدن، مما يجعله الأكثر مرونة في نطاقه السعري. سواء كنت تبحث عن العملات، أو تغوص في الآثار تحت الماء، أو تنقب في الأماكن البحرية، فإن تقنية Multi-Flex Multi-Frequency تجعل من Apex الخيار الأمثل لجميع أنشطة البحث والاستكشاف.

اكتشف المزيد حول جاريت اي اس ايي ابيكس وتعمق في عالم الاستكشاف تحت الأرض.

🌐 رابط موقعنا في ألمانيا:

الواتساب:

رابط موقعنا على الخريطة:

#جاريت #كشف_المعادن #تكنولوجيا_جاريت #استكشاف #بحث_عن_الكنوز #غوص #تنقيب #آثار

[etgrouply]

اكتشف عالم البحث عن الكنوز بتقنية لا مثيل لها مع جهاز "جاريت اي اس ايي ابيكس"، الذي يتمتع بقدرة عميقة على الكشف تصل إلى 2 متر. يتيح لك هذا الجهاز عزل الأهداف المعدنية بكفاءة عالية، بفضل ميزة عزل الحديد التي تمكنك من التحكم في الأصوات التي تسمعها، مما يقلل من الإزعاج الناتج عن الأهداف غير المرغوب فيها. يتميز Apex بثمانية تعديلات لسمك المعدن، مما يجعله الأكثر مرونة في نطاقه السعري. سواء كنت تبحث عن العملات، أو تغوص في الآثار تحت الماء، أو تنقب في الأماكن البحرية، فإن تقنية Multi-Flex Multi-Frequency تجعل من Apex الخيار الأمثل لجميع أنشطة البحث والاستكشاف.

اكتشف المزيد حول جاريت اي اس ايي ابيكس وتعمق في عالم الاستكشاف تحت الأرض.

🌐 رابط موقعنا في ألمانيا:

الواتساب:

رابط موقعنا على الخريطة:

#جاريت #كشف_المعادن #تكنولوجيا_جاريت #استكشاف #بحث_عن_الكنوز #غوص #تنقيب #آثار

[etgroupsa]

اكتشف عالم البحث عن الكنوز بتقنية لا مثيل لها مع جهاز "جاريت اي اس ايي ابيكس"، الذي يتمتع بقدرة عميقة على الكشف تصل إلى 2 متر. يتيح لك هذا الجهاز عزل الأهداف المعدنية بكفاءة عالية، بفضل ميزة عزل الحديد التي تمكنك من التحكم في الأصوات التي تسمعها، مما يقلل من الإزعاج الناتج عن الأهداف غير المرغوب فيها. يتميز Apex بثمانية تعديلات لسمك المعدن، مما يجعله الأكثر مرونة في نطاقه السعري. سواء كنت تبحث عن العملات، أو تغوص في الآثار تحت الماء، أو تنقب في الأماكن البحرية، فإن تقنية Multi-Flex Multi-Frequency تجعل من Apex الخيار الأمثل لجميع أنشطة البحث والاستكشاف.

اكتشف المزيد حول جاريت اي اس ايي ابيكس وتعمق في عالم الاستكشاف تحت الأرض.

🌐 رابط موقعنا في ألمانيا:

الواتساب:

رابط موقعنا على الخريطة:

#جاريت #كشف_المعادن #تكنولوجيا_جاريت #استكشاف #بحث_عن_الكنوز #غوص #تنقيب #آثار

[secretmellowblog]

On the subject of the Titanic ‘submersible’ that was lost in the deep with all its wealthy tourists— it’s so insane/eerie in hindsight to read this article from the Smithsonian that interviews the CEO Stockton Rush long before the disaster.

Despite the Smithsonian supposedly being an organization that cares about science and truth, and the fact that there were SO MANY obvious red flags from the beginning and so many people criticizing the company…..the article is a puff piece uncritically glorifying the CEO’s obviously terrible submersible project. It compares him in glowing terms to Elon Musk. It is an article about how private ventures like those of Stockton Rush and Elon Musk can and should be the future of the world.

We’ve obviously learned now that there were whistleblowers at the company who were warning for a long time that Stockton Rush’s submersible was unsafe— only to be fired and then sued. It makes sense the submersible was so unsafe, because the CEO in this interview is open about how he has no background in underwater engineering and is annoyed by quote “regulations that needlessly prioritize passenger safety.”

Soon after, the private [submersible] market died too, Rush found, for two reasons that were “understandable but illogical.” First, subs gained a reputation for danger. Working on offshore rigs in harsh locations like the North Sea, saturation divers, who breathe gas mixtures to avoid diving sicknesses, would be taken in subs to work at great depths. It was the world’s most perilous job, with frequent fatalities. (“It wasn’t the sub’s fault,” says Rush.) To save lives, the industries moved toward using underwater robots to perform the same work.

Second, tourist subs, which could once be skippered by anyone with a U.S. Coast Guard captain’s license, were regulated by the Passenger Vessel Safety Act of 1993, which imposed rigorous new manufacturing and inspection requirements and prohibited dives below 150 feet. The law was well-meaning, Rush says, but he believes it needlessly prioritized passenger safety over commercial innovation (a position a less adventurous submariner might find open to debate). “There hasn’t been an injury in the commercial sub industry in over 35 years. It’s obscenely safe, because they have all these regulations. But it also hasn’t innovated or grown—because they have all these regulations.”

The fact that Stockton Rush (who was piloting the submarine when the disaster happened) is on record complaining about the evils of regulations that prioritize people’s safety, and the Smithsonian uncritically regurgitated that rhetoric in their glowing puff piece about how rich tycoons like Elon Musk and Stockton Rush are going to save the world is just…..in hindsight of how everything ended it’s just so much horrible black comedy? It’s like a satire about the dangers of uncritically worshipping the rich.

It is mentioned in the article that Rush chose to make his submersible in a different shape, and with a different (cheaper) material than is usually used for submersibles. The article frames this as a result of daring innovation, and not of negligence/ignorance. This passage in particular, which in context is supposed to portray Rush’s critics as joyless naysayers who were proven wrong by the noble tycoon, is pretty foreboding in hindsight:

Rush planned to pilot the sub himself, which critics said was an unnecessary risk: Under pressure, the experimental carbon fiber hull might, in the jargon of the sub world, “collapse catastrophically.”

And then!!

The exact problem that happened to Titan this weekend, happened on Titan’s very first test voyage to the Titanic! The experimental carbon fiber hull had an issue and it caused communications to break down!

The dive was going according to plan until about 10,000 feet, when the descent unexpectedly halted, possibly, Rush says, because the density of the salt water added extra buoyancy to the carbon fiber hull. He now used thrusters to drive Titan deeper, which interfered with the communications system, and he lost contact with the support crew. He recalls the next hour in hallucinogenic terms. “It was like being on the Starship Enterprise,” he says. “There were these particles going by, like stars. Every so often a jellyfish would go whipping by. It was the childhood dream.”

Both Rush and the article writer treat this as a fun quirky story, instead of a serious safety failure and red flag with his experimental macgyvered regulation-flaunting submersible.

Other highlights from the article include:

Stockton rush saying that if 3/4 of the planet is water, why haven’t we monetized it?

Stockton saying we will “colonize the ocean long before we colonize space”

Lots of weird pro colonialism stuff in general??? This article loves colonialism and thinks it’s cool

Rush saying he plans for this to eventually help find more underwater resources for the US to exploit and profit from

Elon musk comparisons. The article writer does not mention that Elon Musk’s rockets explode and therefore it would be a bad idea to get in one of them, because that would imply it’s a bad idea to get into the submersible

Stockton rush seeing himself as Captain Kirk

The article writer comparing the tourists who plan to join Rush to Englishmen who went on colonialist journeys to Africa as if that’s like, a good thing. So much pro colonialism stuff in this article

So many sentences about Stockton Rush being handsome when he literally just looks like some guy

The article beginning with an editor’s note from years later disclaiming that the extraordinary submersible they’re advertising in this article is uh. It’s now uhhhh

But yeah it really does just bring home how so many organizations that supposedly care about scientific truth or journalistic integrity are willing to uncritically platform propaganda for wealthy CEOS. It’s frustrating how easily people fall for the fake myths that careless wealthy people invent for themselves, and even more frustrating that supposedly respectable institutions will platform irresponsible lies that end up getting people killed.

Rush is such an obvious and simple example of this, and his negligence is “only” killing five people including himself. But to me it feels like a cautionary tale to bear in mind when it comes to uncritical puff piece media coverage of similar “daring tycoon innovations” by people like Bezos or Musk.

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 5/?)

Negotiating with the devil is a delicate dance — every offer comes at a cost, every promise demands a sacrifice. And when Silco is your devil, the price is always more than your soul.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 7,6K

Warnings: smut, sexual tension, light bondage (restraint without having sex), jealous Silco, semi-public carnal acts, masturbation (m!receiving), accidental exhibitionism (it will make sense I swear), orgasm denial, possessive behavior, you work in the brothel, Silco POV Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

What can I say? I'm a fan of the "under the table" cliché, so I had to make my own version... Silco's little monologue at the end was me trying to make references to Silco's monologues in arcane (it didn't turn out so well, but the intention is worth it) Btw I'll make a banner for this story so I can pin it to my profile and make it easier to select chapters AND I'm considering making a playlist for this series, so if you have any song suggestions please let me know.

You woke up suddenly, gasping for air, as though you had just surfaced from underwater. Your mind, still foggy, stumbled between that memory and reality. You were okay now. It was just a memory, a fragment clinging to the recesses of your mind. Your chest rose and fell frantically, but as the environment around you started to take shape, the cold, dense air of the room grounded you back in the present.

Taking a deep breath, your senses began to return, one by one. Muffled sounds reached your ears—voices filled with authority and disdain. The familiar smell of tobacco invaded your nostrils, mixed with the scent of aged leather. Your skin registered the coarse yet oddly comfortable fabric draped over you. Despite the initial confusion, it brought a strange sense of relief. You were alive, but not exactly safe.

You moved, testing the motion of your limbs, feeling the stiffness gradually ease. But then came the worst sensation in the world: your throat was parched, so dry it felt as though it might crack at any moment. A discomfort that yanked you back into the limbo between wanting to rise or succumbing to the exhaustion that still clung to you.

You chose the latter. Slowly, the recent events began to piece themselves together. It was a fragmented mosaic, but soon you realized you were lying on a couch. Not just any couch, but the one in Silco's office.

"That boy is ten minutes late." the deep, cutting voice filled the room—the kind of baritone that could command respect or instill fear with equal ease. It wasn't hard to identify the speaker: Silco. He sounded irritated, though his irritation was controlled, like a blade kept sheathed. "He'll wait another ten for his arrogance."

"He's going to hate that." another voice replied, this time feminine, yet deep and brimming with authority much like Silco's. The kind of voice that seemed to belong to someone accustomed to commanding presence without raising their tone. You recognized it immediately. It was her—the same woman who had handed you Kate's necklace.

"Let him throw a tantrum." the metallic creak of a chair shifting broke the silence, indicating someone—certainly Silco—had leaned back, adopting a deliberately relaxed posture. "These fools have the bad habit of forgetting who they're dealing with." there was a pause, followed by an audible sigh. "Such an unnecessary headache."

For a moment, you considered remaining still, listening to the conversation, pretending to still be asleep. But the pain in your throat became unbearable, forcing you to act. Slowly, trying not to draw attention, you attempted to sit up on the couch. The blanket—that's what had been covering you—slid slightly as you adjusted your body, but the movement, subtle as it was, didn't go unnoticed.

Two pairs of eyes fell upon you.

"Welcome back." Silco's voice hit you like a snap. It was provocative, laden with that familiarity that made your stomach churn. Your eyes met his, and the shrewd, controlling glint that always inhabited his gaze was more evident than ever. He looked pleased, almost as if he knew exactly what you were thinking and feeling at that moment.

He then shifted his attention to the sturdy woman standing still, unmoving like a statue. Her posture seemed that of someone used to following orders without question but not without an intimidating presence.

"Leave us." the command was clear, direct, his tone leaving little room for hesitation or questioning. It was so natural you could imagine she had been waiting for it. "I need to have a private conversation with my guest."

The woman—whose name still escaped you but who, now that you looked closer, didn't seem entirely unfamiliar—hesitated for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before complying. Her gaze lingered on you, carrying something between suspicion and curiosity, though you couldn't decide which was more prominent. With a final glance, she left the office, her footsteps echoing softly on the floor until they disappeared down the hall.

When the door closed, the room felt even more claustrophobic. Silco turned his attention back to you, his sharp eyes scanning your face as if trying to decipher something. He tilted his head slightly, studying you before finally speaking.

"How are you feeling, dove?" his voice was a mix of calculated concern and veiled disdain. "I trust you've recovered from our little... incident."

You raised your eyebrows, a mixture of disbelief and irritation washing over your features. The word "incident" felt like a bad joke, a blatant attempt to downplay what had happened. Your voice came out rough, dry as sandpaper, as you confronted him.

"Incident? You bastard! You drugged me!"

Silco's face remained unreadable, a mask of unshakable calm, as though your accusation were nothing more than a leaf carried by the wind. Without saying a word, he reached for the glass decanter on his desk, pouring water into a tumbler with almost ceremonial precision. Then he stood and, without hurry, offered the glass to you, like someone extending an olive branch.

You hesitated for a fraction of a second, but thirst won out. You grabbed the glass from his hand and emptied it in large, desperate gulps, the water sliding down your throat with such immediate relief that it almost drew a sigh from you. Only when you finished did it occur to you that you hadn't even checked if there was something mixed into the liquid.

"I sedated you." Silco corrected, his tone calm and almost didactic, as if explaining something trivial. He refilled the glass with the same patience, setting it aside without pressuring you to take another. "To prevent you from doing something stupid. Something you'd regret."

The serenity with which he spoke was unsettling. Each word was meticulously measured, as if he controlled even the impact he intended to have on you. "And technically." he added, and you immediately knew you wouldn't like what came next, "You were the one who pulled the trigger that released the gas."

Your glare of disdain was more eloquent than any verbal response could have been. Your expression said it all: how much you detested the way he twisted the facts, transforming what was so obviously his fault into a wordplay that absolved him. But, as always, he seemed to simply ignore it.

"Satisfy my curiosity, dove." Silco leaned casually against the edge of his desk, legs slightly spread, arms resting in an unnervingly relaxed manner while his intense gaze seemed to pierce into the darkest corners of your soul. He positioned himself strategically, the difference in height between you two magnifying the aura of dominance he exuded. "What exactly was your plan? Come here, grab my own weapon, and put a bullet in my head? Or was there something more elaborate behind it?"

You swallowed hard but held his gaze. Silco knew you weren't stupid. He had always known. And that was exactly what made the tension between you so unbearable. He didn't underestimate you. Quite the opposite—he believed you were capable of far more than anyone else would ever imagine.

"You're no fool." he tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with that blend of fascination and menace that made him impossible to ignore. "You knew I'd have precautions. You wouldn't be the first to try killing me in my own office."

He pushed off the desk with predatory grace, approaching you with slow, almost dragging steps. The tension in his body was palpable, every muscle ready to react, but you knew he wasn't afraid. Not of you, not now. He seemed to feed off the nervous energy radiating from you, as if it sustained him.

"So, tell me..." he purred, his voice so low and rough it felt almost tangible, like velvet sliding across your skin. "What game are you playing?"

You lifted your chin, refusing to yield, even though the disparity of power between the two of you was glaring. The posture was symbolic, almost theatrical. He stood tall, looking down at you with the gaze of a judge about to hand down a sentence. You, seated, staring back from below, yet without a trace of submission in your eyes.

It was a stalemate—a power struggle in which the cards were visibly stacked in his favor.

If you had listened to reason, you would have submitted by now. Apologized, played the victim, begged for your life. After all, even if this had been a trap Silco orchestrated from the start, the fact that you had actually pulled the trigger against him was a crime that could easily seal your fate.

"Maybe..." you began, a dry, bitter laugh escaping your lips. You turned the now-empty glass of water between your fingers as if deliberating something far greater, then placed it on the table with a dull thud. "Maybe I just came here to appeal to whatever's left of your common sense." your words dripping with sarcasm, laced with a wild courage, almost suicidal. "To try and reach whatever humanity you might have left, if there's even any left at all."

Bowing your head to Silco had never been part of the plan. Submission wasn't who you were, and this constant battle for control, for power, was part of the game you played. The game that, in some twisted way, kept the two of you tethered. So, instead of accepting the vulnerable position he seemed intent on placing you in, you decided to flip the board.

You rose from the couch, your legs as steady as steel, and faced him directly. Your eyes met, and the distance between your bodies was minimal—far too close for what should have been a casual conversation. But Silco, of course, didn't believe in personal space. And if he could ignore that convention, so could you.

"You're right." your voice was light, though the weight in your tone was unmistakable. "Trying to kill you like that wasn't the plan, but the opportunity was there, and I couldn't let it slip by. I would've done Zaun a favor if I'd succeeded."

The words were spat with a caustic pride. There was no fear in them, and certainly no regret. In your eyes, Silco's death wasn't just a desire—it was a necessity, a moral duty. If Zaun was poisoned now, it was his doing. If you felt so intoxicated by him that it bordered on hatred laced with desire, that was his fault too. Everything was his fault. He was the cause and the consequence, the poison and the unattainable cure.

Your fingers slowly rose to the fabric of his suit, the texture familiar—a bitter, sweet memory all at once. It was the same gesture you'd made the night you first met, and just like then, he didn't move to stop you. He allowed you to touch him, as if the vulnerability it implied wasn't a problem. Perhaps, just as he unraveled your rationality, you unraveled his. Perhaps you were each other's weak spot, exploiting that frailty in a selfish, destructive game.

"But since we're talking about games." your voice taking on a provocative tone. "Shall we talk about yours as well?" your gaze slid over his body, lingering at his hip, where you confirmed what you had already suspected: the holster was empty. Clever bastard. "I know how ruthless you are." you said, an almost casual note in your words, though the tension in the air was palpable. "You've eliminated everyone who stood in your way, everyone who dared challenge you. Every single one who raised a hand against you is now dead."

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. The scene might have been mistaken for a romantic gesture, were it not for the heavy atmosphere, laden with ambiguous intentions. Your proximity was suffocating, both for him and for you, yet neither of you pulled away.

"But I'm still here." your smile was almost childlike, innocent, but your eyes burned with something entirely opposite. "I've challenged you so many times... slapped you, shot at your head..." your voice dropped lower, almost to a whisper. "You know how much I want to hurt you. How much I want to kill you."

A pause, tense and deliberate.

"And yet, here I am. Alive!"

You felt Silco's arms wrap around your waist, his hands pressing firmly against your back, keeping you close. The way he made a point of leaving no space between you was almost suffocating. His possessiveness in that touch was unmistakable, as if he were staking his claim, but his face—oh, his face. The severity etched into his features betrayed more than just control. His narrowed eyes and tense jaw reflected two conflicting emotions: irritation and desire.

Silco was not a man who dealt well with direct confrontations, especially when challenged. Yet, he remained silent, as though intrigued by where your words and actions were leading him. You could almost hear his thoughts, trying to decipher your moves while his patience slowly frayed.

"You said I make you feel alive, didn't you?" 

Slowly, you began to push him back, your bodies still pressed together, but the movement was unmistakable. One step, then another, until he was backed up against the edge of the desk. Your gaze darted around, scanning the objects within reach. Anything would do, as long as it was useful. Your eyes settled on a small dagger, resting atop a stack of freshly opened letters. That would be enough.

"Does the idea of my hatred excite you enough to make you not want to kill me?" the question was laced with disdain, an implicit challenge, as your hand moved slowly toward the desk, your fingers inching closer to the dagger's hilt.

Silco didn't respond immediately, but there was something in his expression—a glint in his eyes, a slight curl at the corner of his lips—that told you he knew exactly what you were doing. And yet, he seemed to be enjoying it, accepting the challenge.

"Your hatred?" he mocked, his voice low, almost a growl. "I'd rather the thought of breaking you."

"Good to know." you leaned into him, reducing the already minimal space between your faces. It seemed like a gesture of surrender, as if you were about to give in, to initiate a kiss. But as your lips drew closer, your fingers finally brushed the dagger's hilt.

It was quick. Too quick. Before you could raise the weapon, Silco's hand shot out, gripping your wrist with an ironclad hold, crushing any hope of movement. He barely had to try. With a single, fluid motion, he reversed the situation entirely, pinning you against the desk. Your back collided with the wood in a thud that echoed in your ears. The dagger slipped from your fingers, clattering uselessly to the floor.

His grip on your wrists was unrelenting, pinning them above your head as his weight bore down, keeping you entirely immobilized.

"Tsk, tsk." the sound of his tongue clicking carried an almost casual disdain, but his eyes betrayed him—there was something more there, a spark of amusement. He seemed to relish the mistake you'd made, as if waiting for you to misstep in exactly this way. Yet, there was a tilt of his head, a faint gesture of acknowledgment, as if he recognized something in you. "So predictable, dove. You'll have to do better than that if you want to catch me off guard."

You thrashed against his grip, your body twisting with enough force to wreak small havoc on the pristine desk. Papers slid to the floor with a muffled rustle, others crumpled beneath you, and carefully arranged objects toppled into minor chaos. It was a ridiculous, rebellious spectacle, but at its core, it was necessary. You were the disorder Silco seemed so intent on containing—the point of chaos in his calculated control.

And even though rationality screamed that another attack was practically impossible, there was something vital in showing Silco that you wouldn't give in so easily. Not without a fight.

"Now." he began, his voice tinged with a mock deliberation as he tilted his head to look directly into your eyes. "What should I do with you?" his fingers tightened around your wrists—not enough to hurt, but firmly enough to remind you who was in control in that moment. "Punish you for your insolence? Or reward you for your... enthusiasm?"

Your body was on fire. The rage burned under your skin like embers, but it was accompanied by another sensation—one you knew well enough to feel a flicker of embarrassment.

"Give me your worst." you snapped, your voice cutting through the air, a mix of anger and something that sounded almost like... anticipation. It was the heat from before, the way Silco's touch, even in restraint, left marks that went beyond the physical. Your body, damned and contradictory, reacted to the stimulus in ways your mind refused to condone.

Silco noticed. Of course he noticed. His smile widened, curving into something not just triumphant but dangerous. "You don't know what you're asking for." his voice low and gravelly as he tightened his grip on your wrists. The pressure wasn't painful but evoked a strange sense of anticipation.

"I'm not asking." you met his gaze, chin tilted upward in defiance. "I'm demanding, Silco."

The words came out sharp, like razors, and you knew what you were doing. It was like pulling the trigger of a gun without knowing where the bullet would land. You saw the change in him immediately. His breath hitched—barely perceptible, but you were close enough to catch it. His eyes narrowed, not in anger but in focus. He was searching for something in you—lies, hesitation, any crack in your armor that would reveal you were bluffing.

But he found nothing but resolve.

You both remained there, suspended in a limbo where the air felt electrified, so dense it was almost impossible to breathe. The tension was tangible, nearly solid, like metal on the brink of being forged under intense heat. You could feel the smell of gunpowder before the inevitable explosion, but just as the moment threatened to erupt, a sound shattered the silence.

A knock on the door.

"Ten minutes, boss."

That same female voice cut through the charged atmosphere, interrupting what felt like an inevitable escalation between you and Silco. His gaze, once locked on you with an almost primal hunger, shifted, overtaken by frustration. He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling heavily—a sigh that carried more than annoyance. There was a hint of resignation in it.

"Damn it." Finally, he released your wrists, stepping back just enough to grant you the space you had longed for—though now it felt strange, uncomfortable. Silco ran a hand over his face, pushing his hair back in a mechanical gesture, one you'd seen him do whenever he needed to collect himself. The desire that had overflowed mere seconds ago was pushed down, though you could swear it still lingered in the air like an invisible presence.

"Of all the goddamn timing..." he murmured under his breath, adjusting his clothes in a futile attempt to reclaim the composure he held so dear.

You, in turn, rose slowly from the table, feeling the tension in your muscles. Your fingers instinctively moved to your wrists, massaging them. There wouldn't be any marks—you were sure of that—but the phantom of his grip still burned there, hot and real as if his fingers were still on your skin.

"We'll continue this later." his voice now colder as he adjusted the collar of his suit and smoothed out his clothes. The attempt to return to his usual image of impeccable authority was almost laughable, especially after what had just happened. He sat in his chair, picking up the crumpled papers and organizing them with quick fingers, but you could tell he was still irritated.

Then he looked up at you, his expression carrying a clear warning. "You're staying."

The way he said it made your whole body tense. You turned your neck so quickly to face him that you heard the crack of your joints, an uncomfortable sound that echoed through the room. "Staying?" you repeated, as if he had just suggested something absurdly foolish. "Not a chance. One chemical baron is enough. Two is too much."

Silco let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers as if to ward off an impending headache. His patience was clearly wearing thin. Maybe it was the meeting that bothered him, maybe it was you, or—more likely—a combination of both. His eyes narrowed as he straightened his shoulders, reclaiming the unyielding posture that seemed so natural to him.

"You. Will. Stay." the words were spoken slowly and, each one landing like an inarguable sentence. The firmness in his voice made your shoulders stiffen, an involuntary reflex in the face of the authority that radiated from every syllable. "I'm not asking, dove. I'm ordering."

The irony of the moment wasn't lost on you, and his choice of words was a clear provocation—an intentional twist of the very words you had used to confront him earlier. Before you could retort, Silco gestured toward the sofa with a sharp wave of his hand, a silent but impossible-to-ignore command.

"Sit. Behave. And for fuck's sake, try not to stab anyone else."

The sarcasm in the last sentence was almost tangible, but his tone left no room for argument. Silco wasn't in the mood to negotiate. Not now, not when he already had so much—and now you—to keep under control. The tension in the air lingered, but you knew pushing the issue now would be pointless. You rolled your eyes but reluctantly obeyed.

"Good girl." his voice dripping with mockery. "Perhaps I'll give you a reward later."

You bit your tongue to avoid a biting retort, but the phrase kept reverberating in your mind, especially those damned words—good girl.

The door then opened.

The man who entered did so as if he owned the place. Confidence was evident in his stride and posture, but what really caught your attention was his appearance. He was young, with a face that, if you were honest, was attractive—but not to you. Your tastes leaned more toward the man on the other side of the room.

He was remarkable, though. The golden prosthetic jaw gleamed under the light, almost as if designed to demand attention. A vibrant yellow jacket draped over his shoulders in a way that screamed status and vanity. His skin was nearly a living canvas, adorned with black tattoos.

"Silco." he greeted the man with a cheerfulness that seemed superficial but still carried a touch of cordiality.

"Finn."

Silco gestured to the chair in front of his desk, indicating that Finn should sit. He did so, adjusting his coat as he settled in. Meanwhile, Silco leaned against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes burned with that cold, calculated intensity you knew so well.

"I've heard there's been some... chatter," Silco began, his voice low but steeped in professionalism. "About my recent actions. My decision to sponsor a certain protégé."

"Yes, well." Finn chose his words carefully. "It's... unorthodox, to say the least. Sponsoring a prostitute? Not exactly the kind of image we want to project, is it?"

His gaze was sharp, as if trying to gauge Silco's reaction as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and clasping his hands together. "The other barons are concerned this could reflect poorly on all of us. That it might undermine our credibility, our authority."

He paused.

"And then there's the matter of your... personal involvement. We all know what happened with Jinx. The last thing we need is another scandal, another distraction. Especially now, with the situation in the Undercity so volatile."

Jinx. The name echoed in your mind, and you couldn't help but think of a certain someone whenever you heard it. But the question was: Was it the same person? If that was even possible...

Finn opened his hands in a theatrical gesture of appeasement, trying to appear conciliatory. "I'm not saying you can't do what you want, Silco. But perhaps... perhaps it would be wise to distance yourself. To make it clear this is strictly business and nothing more."

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with tension. Even without looking at Silco, you could feel the irritation radiating from him, though his expression remained impeccably neutral. It was clear that Finn was walking on thin ice.

You weren't particularly pleased either. The presence of two barons in a confined space wasn't exactly comfortable, but hearing the way Finn referred to you, as if you were nothing more than an object, was particularly unbearable. Truthfully, you had the impression Finn hadn't even noticed your presence in the room.

"My personal life is my business." Silco finally broke the silence, his voice low and laden with authority. "It doesn't concern you or any other baron."

"I have certain doubts about that statement."

You watched Finn as he repeatedly flicked open and closed the golden lighter he held between his fingers. The metallic sound echoed irritatingly, punctuating the loaded silence. The young man didn't look the least bit satisfied with Silco's response. His eyes gleamed with discontent, though he maintained a forced facade of calm.

You had seen this kind of dynamic before, especially at the brothel, where men with inflated egos competed for control. Both wanted to dominate the situation, and neither seemed inclined to back down. It was a dangerous game, but you'd always had a tendency to get involved in things you shouldn't. Against all logic—and perhaps your instinct for self-preservation—you decided to add fuel to the fire.

Reaching for one of the cigars casually tossed on the table along with the lighter, you stood up from the sofa, your steps light enough not to draw immediate attention. Finn seemed so absorbed in his irritation that he didn't even notice your approach. But Silco... oh, Silco noticed. Of course, he did. He didn't say a word, merely tilted his head slightly, his expression indifferent. But you could see it in his eyes—he was wondering what on earth you were up to.

Holding the cigar between your fingers, you offered it to Silco with an air of nonchalance as you stood beside him. He didn't hesitate. He took the cigar in one smooth motion and brought it to his lips. When he leaned slightly forward for you to light it, your breath almost synchronized with his. And then, you decided it still wasn't enough.

With a small pivot, you turned Silco's chair slightly toward you, and before he could react—not that he needed to, because you knew he would allow it—you settled yourself in his lap.

Silco simply adjusted, shifting his posture so you fit perfectly in his space. One hand rested on your waist, the grip firm but not intrusive, while he held the cigar in the other. His expression remained unchanged, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

The same, however, couldn't be said for Finn.

The young man's eyes finally noticed your presence. And not just that—they scanned every detail of you, from the tone of your skin to your smallest gestures. His face was a mixture of confusion and barely disguised indignation. It was obvious he hadn't expected there to be a third person in the room, much less someone who displayed such familiarity with Silco.

"The situation in the undercity is precarious, I'll grant you that," Silco resumed, completely ignoring the look Finn cast at the two of you and the earlier tension. His voice was as steady and controlled as ever. "But that is all the more reason for us to remain united, to present a strong front to the Topsiders. And now, the last thing we need is petty doubts over personal matters."

Silco paused to take a long drag from his cigar, letting the smoke escape his lips with almost cruel slowness.

"So here's what's going to happen, Finn. You're going to go back and politely inform the others that everything is under control. Understood?"

"Perfectly." Finn replied, with a smile that was a disconcerting mix of amusement and insolence. He seemed genuinely entertained by the dynamic between the two of you, as if watching a particularly intriguing play unfold. "Well, I must say, I can see your point now, Silco. Excellent choice... I have to admit, I'm a bit annoyed I didn't come across her first."

The atmosphere shifted instantly. If the room had been tense before, now it felt as if all the air had been sucked out entirely. It was almost like watching someone willingly step off a cliff. You weren't sure if Finn was suicidal, stupid, or simply incapable of reading the room. Because saying something like that, so openly, in front of Silco... well, that was the very definition of digging your own grave.

"I'd advise you to choose your words more carefully." Silco's response came quickly, but it was dangerous. "My tolerance for nonsense is running thin."

Finn, however, didn't seem to grasp the gravity of the situation. Or perhaps he did and simply didn't care. He laughed. "Don't take it personally. I'm merely complimenting your excellent taste. It's no sin to admire a fine new acquisition."

Finn's eyes slid over you again, this time even more blatantly. It was the kind of look that made your skin crawl, but not in a good way. The difference between Finn and Silco was stark—while Silco's gaze was warm yet never intrusive, Finn's was filthy. As if he was deliberately trying to reduce you to nothing more than a sexual object.

Whatever was holding back Silco's patience was on the verge of snapping.

Without thinking too much—actually, without thinking at all—you acted. Your hands slid downward, moving so casually that it seemed like an innocent gesture. But you knew exactly what you were doing. And, by the way Silco immediately tensed, he knew too. At first, it was just a light touch, almost experimental, but enough to elicit a reaction from him. He couldn't completely hide the rigidity that took over his body.

You rested your head on his shoulder, assuming an almost relaxed posture. Pretending to pay attention to the conversation, you let your fingers trace down his side, caressing him over the fabric.

The table between you and Finn was high enough to conceal what you were doing. From Finn's perspective, you were simply lounging in Silco's lap, like an ornament adorning the baron's throne. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Silco tense even more. Not just physically—his entire body seemed on high alert. The way he adjusted his posture was subtle but unmistakable.

Your intentions with that move were... multifaceted. You wanted to distract Silco from his growing desire to do something that would end in yet another corpse; you wanted to alleviate some of the crushing tension in the room; but most of all, you wanted revenge. It didn't matter if it was for the gas he'd used against you or for Kate's death��something inside you craved a small victory.

And, frankly, what could be more satisfying than turning the tables on Silco in the middle of an important meeting?

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

He should have known that the woman was up to something when she disobeyed him like that. A part of his mind really thought that she would behave herself for once, especially in the presence of another baron since she seemed quite furious when he ordered her to stay. Maybe that was karma punishing him in the form of the woman who tormented him so much.

He could have stopped her. Stopped what that wicked mind of hers was about to do, but still he didn't. He allowed it, and God he wondered why.

Silco's breath hitched in his throat as her fingers brushed against his crotch, her touch light and teasing but unmistakably deliberate. He gritted his teeth, his muscles tensing as he fought to maintain his composure. He could feel himself growing hard, could feel the blood rushing to his groin, his cock twitching and straining against the confines of his trousers.

But he didn't react, didn't move, didn't give any outward sign of his arousal. He kept his eyes locked on Finn's face, his expression cool and impassive, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Inside, though, he was seething. Fury and lust warred within him, a potent cocktail of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to grab her, to throw her down on the desk and fuck her until she screamed. He wanted to wipe that smug, knowing smile off her face, to make her beg for mercy. That damn woman.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, to regain control as he took another drag of his cigar. "Now that we've gotten this personal issue out of the way, I think we can talk business. The Chemtanks are ready for testing?"

He forced himself to focus on the conversation, on Finn's words. The other baron was talking about something; answering his question, but Silco couldn't quite concentrate on the specifics. All he could think about was the feel of her fingers on his cock, the subtle pressure and friction that sent sparks of pleasure racing up his spine.

"Yes, everything is in order," Finn replied, his tone carefully neutral. "We should be able to start the tests by the end of the week."

He shifted slightly in his seat, trying to adjust himself, to find some relief from the growing ache in his groin. But her hand followed him, her touch unerringly accurate, her fingers tracing the outline of his shaft through the fabric of his pants.

"And what about the vaporization systems? They changed it to be towards the helmet instead of into the bloodstream"

Silco's heart pounded in his chest as her nimble fingers worked at his zipper, the sound of the metal teeth sliding apart obscenely loud in his ears. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, his palms slick with sweat. He could feel the heat of her breath on his neck.

"Renni is taking care of that part, but she is confident that we'll have a working prototype within the month. And with your approval, we can begin mass production shortly thereafter."

He could feel her fingers wrapping around his cock, her touch sure and skilled. She stroked him slowly, teasingly, her palm gliding over the sensitive skin of his shaft. "Good." it was unclear whether he had said that to Finn or to her. "But we'll need to increase production of shimmer." Finn was saying, his voice starting to get distant and muffled, as if he were speaking from the bottom of a well. "If we want to keep up with demand, we'll need to double our output, maybe even triple it."

"Agreed. Sevika can..." he paused, his breath catching in his throat as her thumb brushed across the sensitive head of his cock. He could feel the pleasure sparking through him. "Sevika can handle that part. I'll ask her to recruit more workers."

Her hand moved faster, her grip tightening around his cock, her strokes becoming more purposeful, more demanding. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, could feel the familiar tightening in his gut, the ache in his core.

"Is everything alright, Silco? You seem... distracted."

"I'm fine."

No, he wasn't.

Silco's breath came shorter, his chest heaving with each ragged inhale. He could feel the pressure building in his groin, the tightening coil of pleasure that wound its way up his spine. His cock throbbed in her hand, the wetness of his pre-cum easing the way, allowing her fingers to slide effortlessly along his shaft.

He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching as he fought to maintain his composure. But it was getting harder, the pleasure overwhelming his senses, clouding his thoughts. He could feel his hips moving, could feel himself thrusting involuntarily into her touch, seeking more friction, more stimulation. Just a little more… Then, just as it came suddenly her hands slid out.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Silco felt the sting of having control wrested from his grasp—a sensation he was far more accustomed to delivering than receiving. The experience of being denied his climax, especially in such an unanticipated manner, reverberated through him, setting his nerves alight with a volatile mixture of frustration and smoldering irritation.

Of all the things that woman could have done, this was not one he had foreseen. Not in the slightest.

With a sharp inhale, he reached for the cigar balanced between his fingers, now nearly burnt to its stub. His anger found an outlet in the force he applied as he stubbed it out against the ashtray, grinding the glowing ember with such aggression that sparks flew into the surrounding air. The scent of burnt tobacco mixed with the acrid sharpness of his rising temper. Damn her.

"Anything else, Finn?" it was a question in name only—a rhetorical barb meant to dismiss rather than invite further conversation.

Finn hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, before responding. "No. That's all for now. I'll have my people send over the updated schematics for the Chemtank prototypes."

Finn lingered for a moment too long, as though weighing whether to add anything further, but Silco's unyielding stare settled the matter. The younger man rose from his seat and made his exit, the faint scrape of the chair against the floor marking his departure.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Silco leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a moment to exhale through his nose, slow and measured. His hand drifted to his temple, fingers pressing lightly against the scarred skin as if to quell the tension building there.

Silco's eyes narrowed as he watched her slip from his grasp, her smug smile a taunting reminder of his own vulnerability. The audacity of the woman, to toy with him so brazenly, to push him to the precipice of release only to deny him the satisfaction of climax. It was infuriating, maddening... and oddly enticing.

Her voice had been laced with an infuriatingly sweet sarcasm that grated on his nerves like sandpaper. "You look frustrated."

He reached down to adjust himself, his mechanical movements as he tucked away his still-hard cock. The action did little to alleviate the ache of denial that pulsed through him, but it served to restore a modicum of decorum.

"Frustrated?" he repeated aloud, his voice low, smooth, and dangerous — a razor-thin veneer of calm. "You could say that."

His hands came up once more to rub at his temples, as though the motion might stave off the inevitable migraine brewing behind his eyes. He didn't want to argue with her. Not now. Not again. He lacked the energy—or, frankly, the will—to engage in one of their maddening back-and-forths.

"What were you thinking?" he drawled, his tone a silken purr that concealed the steel thread beneath it. The warning was clear, though wrapped in deceptive softness. "Teasing me like that, in front of Finn, of all people. Do you have any idea what could have happened if he'd caught on?"

She didn't seem the least bit concerned.

Instead, she moved around the room with the casual curiosity of someone utterly unbothered, the faint sway of her hips deliberate — or was he imagining that, too? Either way, it irked him. No, it infuriated him. His eyes tracked her every movement as she circled the table, fingers brushing against objects with absent-minded interest. She was far too comfortable, far too bold, as if oblivious to the storm she'd stirred in him.

"Nothing?" her tone was almost mocking, far too calm for his liking. "What would he do? You're the Eye of Zaun. You could order anyone dead, another baron even, and no one would stop you. Hell, you could have fucked me in front of him, and Finn wouldn't have done a damn thing."

She turned slightly, just enough for him to catch the faintest glint of mischief in her eyes as she asked. "Tell me if I'm wrong?"

"Things are never as simple as they seem, dove. It's not about what I could do. Any fool with a gun can make an example of someone. It's about keeping up appearances."

She wasn't wrong, per se. His position afforded him certain luxuries, certain freedoms. Those who dared to cross him rarely lived to regret it. Fear was an effective tool, and he wielded it as masterfully as a craftsman handles their blade. But ruling Zaun wasn't just about fear. It wasn't even about power. It was about control.

"Finn," Silco continued, his lips curling into a faint sneer. "May not have the power to challenge me directly. Not yet. But power in the Undercity isn't always about strength. A single misstep on my part, one poorly chosen action or a rumor twisted out of context and I could find myself surrounded by wolves. The other barons would pounce at the first sign of weakness, tearing this city apart in their greed to claim what I've built."

Silco's sharp gaze followed hers, narrowing slightly as he noted the peculiar way her eyes lingered on the ashtray. The mundanity of it all didn't match the focus she gave it. Unease prickled at the edges of his mind — instincts honed by years of treachery and survival whispering that something was amiss.

"Power is a delicate thing." he began, his voice low, methodical, as though he were delivering some carefully honed lecture. "To wield it effectively, one must be shrewd. Brute force alone will only get you so far before the weight of your own arrogance collapses around you. Perception..." he drawled, emphasizing the word, "Is the key. You must understand how others see you, why they see you that way. And then you twist that perception to suit your needs."

He straightened, his lithe form unfolding as he rose from the chair. With unhurried steps, he moved around the table. He stopped just behind her, close enough that she could feel his presence, the subtle heat of him at her back. He placed his hands on her hips, a gesture that was both possessive and unyielding, his grip firm without being bruising.

He wasn't sure why he was telling her this, sharing fragments of the philosophy that had carved him into the man he was now. Perhaps it was arrogance, a desire to make her understand the weight of his world — of his choices. Or perhaps it was something far more insidious: the compulsion to see her molded into something sharper, something dangerous.

He waited for her retort, some sharp-edged barb or sarcastic deflection — but none came. She remained quiet, almost too quiet, her body unnaturally still beneath his touch. Her eyes, however, remained fixed on the ashtray, as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating object in the room.

And that — her strange fixation — gnawed at him.

"And what, pray tell, is so fascinating about my ashtray?"

"Children's scribbles," she remarked, her tone devoid of her usual sarcasm, which only made the statement more unnerving. It wasn't a jab, not a provocation—just an observation. Her eyes lingered on the ashtray, tracing the faint, uneven lines etched across its surface. Lines that, to her credit, most wouldn't have noticed. "Who's Jinx? Your daughter?"

If looks could kill… Silco would have killed her right then.

"She's not someone you need to concern yourself with." his tone was calm, but the underlying menace was unmistakable, a predator's growl beneath a diplomat's poise. "Do I make myself clear?"

"So she really is your daughter." her voice carried a subtle lilt of satisfaction, as if she'd confirmed some unspoken theory. He didn't need to see her face to know she was smiling—he could hear it in the faint inflection of her tone.

The silence was... unsettling. He'd grown accustomed to her sharp tongue, her acerbic provocations. They had become a twisted rhythm between them, a game of verbal knives that he had learned to parry and, on occasion, savor. But now, her silence was a void, one he couldn't read, and it gnawed at him in a way few things dared.

She was lost in her own thoughts — that much was clear. Yet what she was thinking remained maddeningly out of reach, and Silco's patience was wearing thin. The flicker of distrust in his chest grew stronger.

Jinx wasn't a topic he discussed lightly, much less with her. The subject was volatile, fragile — a fracture point he refused to expose. And yet, he couldn't shake the suspicion that the wheels in her mind were turning dangerously close to that particular edge.

"Working in a brothel teaches you a lot of things." she began, her voice slicing through the charged silence. Her tone was calm, even resolute, but there was an unmistakable allure in the way her words rolled off her tongue — calculated, as always. "One of them is that everything has a price. That anyone can be persuaded to see things your way, given the right terms."

Silco inclined his head slightly, intrigued but cautious. He let her continue, sensing the trap she was laying but curious to see how she planned to spring it. "You should know better than anyone, Silco."

"Is there a point to this, dove?"

She met his gaze then, her eyes sharp and unflinching. For a brief moment, neither spoke, the air between them crackling with tension.

"You wanted to renegotiate the terms of our... relationship." she said at last, her voice softer now but no less resolute. She let the words hang in the air, weighted. A faint smile ghosting her lips. "I'm open to negotiations now."

Silco's brows arched ever so slightly, his surprise masked by the practiced neutrality of his expression. The day had already veered wildly off course, oscillating between chaos and control at an alarming speed — all thanks to her. Now, this? He had expected resistance, perhaps even defiance. He had anticipated having to employ more persuasive methods to ensure she stayed within reach. But now? What an unexpected turn of events. Interesting. Very interesting indeed.

Part 6 PS: I don't think I'll be able to post an update before Christmas, so happy holidays and a Merry Christmas everyone! ↓ ┊ TAG LIST ┊ ↓ (Adding people to the list will probably end in some future updates as it is getting too big, so take advantage now to ask to be added. If you want to continue receiving updates consider following me.)

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[alwaysoutofpaper]

the livestock of haek (top) and haen'oi (bottom), found in and around the landmass/island of Tunib'sau

wanted to draw up some creatures because I haven't created much hae planet fauna. ramblings below the cut, but it's a lot. all you really need to know is all of these animals can be eaten :)

uli'ni are highly social, omnivorous pack hunters (or ambush predators in small numbers), used for pest control by haek. a village can have a near 1:3 ratio of uli'ni to haek, with the pack usually belonging to a single family, or being cared for communally in some cases. bright, soft coats are sought after by haek wanting a pet. there has been a trend of uli'ni being imported into the city as an exotic pet - mainland uli'ni are a lot nastier.

tade are like truffle pigs. they can sniff out root plants from under dirt and snow, so they are critical for farmers when poor weather conditions would normally make harvests miserable. they are usually eaten along with the plants they help harvest. their "wool" is used for bed, bedding, clothes, and other textile things that are otherwise difficult to create with limited fibers. most shed their coats seasonally, but a mainland variety is bred to grow them continuously like sheep.

rudon are the fastest growing, hardest to handle source of protein a haek could ask for. they burrow under the snow, and further into the ground when it isn't covered. raising them is more difficult than hunting them in the wild, but some haek still try, creating stone-lined pits they will fill with dirt to keep rudon contained. they can wreak havoc on any plantlife if left unchecked, so they are rarely raised in the same village as a root plant farm. their fatty tails are used for tallow, which can be sold at high prices or traded for goods if transportation is possible and a surplus is available.

ta'fer is essentially a much meaner lobster. they can pinch, bite, and smack someone around with their tail. they are aggressive to anything that isn't a ta'fer, and evasive when they feel threatened, which makes them difficult to handle without immense caution. the meat is worth it to most haen'oi, though, and just the act of raising them garners a whole lot of respect.

bibbits are some of the most abundant fish (calling them that cus they look like that) in the oceans, found all over the world with different variations. the bibbits found around Tunib'sau are very boney, but those bones are soft and thin, not removed unless necessary (like for baby haek, it could be a choking hazard - baby haen-oi don't have this problem). bibbits are usually smoked and eaten whole for haek, or eaten raw in the water by haen-oi. they are very flavorful, but don't keep well.

le'bul, or the "walking jewel", is a six-limbed nautilus-like critter. they have tentacle-lined arms like octopus, but lack the chromatophores of the same species. they instead rely on their shells for defense and camouflage, evolved to mimic different types of coral, depending on the region they're in. the le'bul shown above grows a shell resembling coral found almost exclusively in underwater caves. tracking them down is a difficult task, but they can be lured out with bibbits, so actually catching them is pretty simple. their shells are often used as decoration or storage depending mostly on the condition of it after the rest of the body is removed.

lastly, corin is basically just a really big tilapia. high in protein, low in fat. their meat is white and not the most flavorful, but it keeps well and their bones are good for making broth. there are much better, tastier fish out there, but these are the easiest for haen'oi to herd, hunt and trade, so it is the most popular option. they're the closest thing to a domestic fish you can get in those waters. some even let you pet them :)

[ahqkas]

♯ CIGARETTES OUT THE WINDOW ; tate langdon

PAIRING! tate langdon x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! a brown eyed boy with messy hair and pretty smile from the neighborhood offers to light up a cigarette for you

WORD COUNT! 2.7k

WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, heavy mention of cigarettes and smoking, mentions of reader struggling mentally, + lmk of more if found

NOTES! i need a pretty brown eyed boy with messy hair to light my cigarette for me . all the credits to the devider below belong to @/v6que !!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

IF CIGARETTES WERE SO BAD FOR YOU, WHY WERE YOU CRAVING THEM LIKE YOUR MOTHER'S TOUCH OR YOUR FATHER'S ATTENTION? How something so small, so seemingly insignificant, could wield such power over you? That finely cut paper filled with cured tobacco leaves caused serious damage to your physical health yet it improved the state of your mind.  

When you held it against your lips and took the first drag, it felt like the first breath you take after being underwater for too long. A rush of adrenaline along with relief, if only for a moment. The nicotine coursed through your veins, wrapping around your brain like the softest of dreams and you ached to reach for it again and again like a child for a hand that was never there. You knew it was killing you slowly, each inhale wrapping around your lungs as if shadow marred its very own presence and each exhale a reminder of the damage you were doing. 

The warnings were there, on every pack. 

It wasn't the act alone that hooked you so hard. The feeling of what the cigarette provided was the real deal. You lit up to quiet the voices in your mind, to numb the ache of loneliness, to dull the reminders of your repeating days. The bitterness of the tobacco, the way it scorched your throat and left a lingering taste on your tongue, was a small price to pay for the way it soothed your soul, however briefly. 

And it was brief — each cigarette only lasted a few minutes. But those minutes were precious. They were yours, and in a life where so much felt out of control, that small sense of ownership was everything. You were the one who decided when to light up, when to take that first drag, when to exhale and watch the smoke curl into the air, disappearing like the worries you wished would do the same.

The night was cool, the air heavy with the damp scent of earth and the faint aroma of wood smoke coming from your neighbor's chimney. It was one of those nights when you felt like your shoulders were loaded with such a burden that there was no way out. At least the night sky didn't disappoint with its beauty — millions, billions of stars were flickering upon the darkness, shining brighter with each passing minute. You sat on the porch steps of your new house, your knees drawn up to your chest and a cigarette dangling loosely between your fingers. 

You felt the coolness of the unlit cigarette against your fingertips, the promise it held lingering in the back of your mind. It was as if time had paused, the night holding its breath alongside you. You toyed with the idea, rolling the cigarette gently between your fingers, feeling the slight bumps of the packed tobacco inside. There was a certain comfort in just holding it — a familiarity, a sense of control over something so small. 

The porch light cast a soft, golden glow around your form, but beyond that, the yard was swallowed by shadows.  

Should you light it? The thought lingered, heavy and persistent, as you stared at the fragile cylinder in your hand. Your parents disapproved of their children smoking and the thoughts of disappointing them felt too heavy for you.  You brought the unlit cigarette to your lips, mind spinning with thoughts you couldn't quite grasp. Everything felt too much — too heavy, too overwhelming. You were suffocating under the weight of it all, and this cigarette, this tiny thing, felt like the only tether to the world you could control. The cool paper pressed against your teeth, offering a strange comfort. 

For a moment, you just held it there, as if the act of lighting it would be too final, too irreversible. The familiar scent of tobacco teased your senses, but something held you back. The night's stillness, the way the shadows seemed to reach out toward you, and the deep sense of unease that had settled in your chest all seemed to whisper, not yet. 

Then, the creak of the porch door behind you shattered the fragile silence. Your heart skipped a beat, fear spiking through you as you imagined your parents standing there, their disapproving eyes catching you in this vulnerable moment. Panic washed over you, the cigarette trembling slightly between your fingers as you fumbled with it, trying to keep the drug out of sight. You couldn't bear the thought of facing them, of explaining what you couldn't even fully understand yourself. 

But when you finally found the courage to turn around, it wasn't your parents. Relief flooded your system immediately as you saw Tate standing there, his figure half-illuminated by the porch light, half-swallowed by the darkness behind him. He always had a way of appearing just when you needed him, like a ghost materializing out of thin air.  Without a word, Tate slid down beside you, the movement smooth and quiet. The space between the two of you shrank until your shoulders brushed and his knee knocked into yours softly in greeting. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was thick but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that made you yearn for the person's presence because you liked how they made you feel.

And Tate made you feel good in a way that was hard to put into words. It wasn't just his presence, though that alone was enough to soothe the twisted edges of your thoughts. It was the way he understood you without the need for explanations, the way he could step into your personal space and fill it with a quiet strength that seemed to steady everything around you. Tate made you feel good because with him, you felt whole, like all the broken parts of you could finally be mended. 

You kept your gaze ahead on the darkness of the yard, occasionally glancing at your hands, all while feeling the weight of the boy's eyes on you. He was watching you, or perhaps analyzing your actions, but the weight wasn't heavy. With him, everything seemed easy. 

He was the one to break the silence with his voice low, sounding like gravel sliding over stone. "You shouldn't smoke, you know. It's bad for you."

Huffing a soft, bitter laugh, the sound escaped your lips as a faint, misty cloud in the cool night air as your eyes flicked toward him, catching his gaze through the veil of your dark eyelashes. There was a hint of pure amusement in your expression. "It's pretty ironic coming from you," you murmured, voice laced with a touch of mockery. You looked down at the unlit cigarette, rolling it once more between your fingers.

"But it's not like it matters, right?" you continued, your tone shifting to something softer, almost wistful. "It's just . . . something to do."

You shrugged, the gesture small and almost unnoticable, as if trying to dismiss the meaning of what you had just said. But the words you wanted to say lingered in the air between you. It wasn't just about the cigarette — it was about the need to fill the void, to occupy the empty spaces that stretched out endlessly in your life. It was about finding something, anything, to hold onto when everything else felt so fragile.

Tate's brown irises flickered with something you couldn't quite place — a glimmer of understanding, maybe. It was as if he saw through your casual words, past the nonchalance you tried to project, and into the deeper, more vulnerable parts of you that you kept hidden from the entire world. 

He understood you as if you were two sides of the same coin.

The boy didn't say anything at first, just watched you with that steady, unreadable gaze that seemed to pull at the edges of your carefully constructed facade. Then, with a slow movement, Tate reached into the pocket of his flannel shirt, the faint rustle of fabric the only sound breaking the quietness surrounding you. He withdrew a lighter, its polished metal surface catching the porch light for a split second, casting a brief flash of brightness that contrasted sharply with the darkness around you. The lighter was simple, a worn silver Zippo with a few scratches along its surface — evidence of years of use, of countless times it had been flicked open to ignite a flame. 

Tate's movements were smooth and practiced as he flicked the lighter open, the familiar click of the metal lid snapping back echoing softly in the still night air. The sound was almost comforting in its predictability, a stark difference to the unpredictability of your thoughts and emotions. A small flame grew to life, its warm, golden light flickering gently as it cast a soft glow on Tate's face, illuminating the chiseled lines of his jawline and nose, and the softer curve of his lips. His skin, usually pale, seemed to take on a warm hue in the firelight, adding a touch of color to the otherwise cool tones that seemed to follow him wherever he went. And his hair, a tousled mess of blond curls that framed his face, caught the light as well, the strands turning golden where the flame touched them, adding a softness to his otherwise sharp features. The way his hair fell, slightly over his forehead and around his ears, gave him a boyish look that contrasted with the haunted expression in his eyes, which made him seem both young and impossibly old at the same time.

You hesitated, eyes locked on the flame, mesmerized by its hypnotic dance. It was such a small thing, yet it held so much power — the power to transform, to ignite, to bring both comfort and destruction. You could feel the warmth radiating from it. Tate waited, patient and unwavering, for you to make a move. He wasn't pushing you to make a decision, wasn't trying to influence your choice. He was simply there, offering you the possibility. 

You brought the cigarette to rest between your lips, your hand steady despite the slight tremor in your stomach. Leaning in closer to the flame, you could feel the heat brushing against your cheeks, a whisper of warmth that contrasted sharply with the cool night air. The flame licked at your face, casting fleeting shadows across your features as you drew in a slow, deliberate breath, all while your eyes remained locked with the boy who seemed like he fell straight out of your dreams. 

The tip of the cigarette glowed bright orange, and for that brief moment, it felt as if the entire world had narrowed down to just that one glowing point. The burn of the tobacco was immediate, the familiar taste bitter and grounding, pulling you back from the despair. As you exhaled, a plume of smoke curled from your lips, twisting and swirling into the night air, hitting Tate's face. 

"Thanks," you murmured, with your voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

In response, Tate's lips curled into a charming grin, the kind that was disarmingly boyish and just a little crooked at the corners. The smile lit up his features just like the flame did, softening the intensity of his gaze and adding a glint of warmth to his doe eyes. It was the kind of smile that made you feel like, despite the darkness and everything else that loomed over your life, there was still something good in the world — something worth holding onto. 

The boy next to you leaned back, resting his elbows on the step behind him, his gaze lifting to the sky where the stars were hidden by a thick layer of dark clouds. "What's on your mind?" he asked the kind of question that didn't need an immediate answer.

He probably already knew what was swirling around in your head — Tate always seemed to know, like he had a sixth sense for the things you tried to keep buried. But still, he asked, giving you the space to say it out loud or let it hang there between the two of you, unspoken.

You sighed, nimble fingers absently rolling the cigarette between them. You tilted your head slightly, catching his profile against the dim light. You never really noticed before but, God, was he pretty. "You ever feel like you're just . . . stuck?" you began, voice soft, as if you were testing the waters. "Like no matter what you do, you're just going through the motions, waiting for something to change but not really believing it ever will?"

Tate's heart skipped a beat. You couldn't possibly know, and yet your question struck so close to the truth of his existence that it took him a moment to respond. He was stuck — stuck in this place, in this time, in this state of being. And you didn't know. You couldn't know. How could you?

For a second, he felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he only felt in your presence. He kept his gaze on the clouds, forcing himself to stay calm, to not let the surprise show in his expression. But his mind was racing, grappling with the irony of your words. You were searching for a way out of your own feeling of being stuck, while he was trapped in a far more literal sense, bound to this house with no escape. 

"Yeah," the boy finally said, his voice softer, almost hesitant, as if weighing the truth he couldn't fully share. "More often than I'd like to admit."

You didn't seem to notice the tension in his voice, the subtle shift in his demeanor. You just nodded, your own thoughts wrapped up in your struggles. "It's like the world's moving on without me, and I'm just . . . here. Stuck in the same place, doing the same things, feeling the same way."

Tate's heart ached with the weight of what he couldn't tell you, the truth that he was stuck in ways you couldn't imagine. But he kept his voice steady, warm. "You're not alone in that," he said, choosing his words carefully. "We're all trying to find our way, even when it feels impossible." He glanced at you, the weight of your words still hanging in the air, and before he could think twice, he reached out and took your hand in his. His fingers wrapped around yours, warm and reassuring, and he began to slowly rub his thumb over your knuckles in small, soothing circles. The roughness of his thumb contrasted with the softness of your skin.

His steady voice broke the silence with softness. "You know," he began, his tone imbued with sincerity, "I'd never let anybody or anything hurt you. Not while I'm here."

Your gaze remained fixed on your joined hands for a moment, absorbing the seriousness and sincerity of Tate's words. The promise in his voice, the gentle assurance of his touch, created a sense of warmth that made the rest of the world seem a little less scary.

Feeling a surge of gratitude and comfort, you shifted closer to him, leaning your head against his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt felt warm against your cheek, and the subtle scent of him — something earthy and faintly comforting — surrounded you with a feeling of home. Tate was your safe place in this filthy and helpless world. 

His body tensed slightly at the unexpected touch, but he quickly relaxed, his arm instinctively moving to drape over your shoulders in a protective gesture. He could feel the gentle weight of your head resting there, and it brought a sense of closeness he hadn't fully realized he needed. The feeling of having you this close was unreal. 

Tate turned his head slightly, his cheek brushing against the top of your head. "You okay?"

You gave him a nod while your warm breath washed against his neck. "Yeah. I just needed this." 

The two of you stayed like that for a while as the world outside seemed to fade away. The night wrapped around you like a blanket, and for a brief, perfect moment, the worries and fears that had clouded your mind disappeared, replaced by the simple, profound comfort of being close to someone who wasn't afraid to show you just how deeply he cared.

[auspicioustidings]

Mermen au with mer TF141 and researcher reader trying to learn about their. . .biology :Dd Or them trying to bring progressively bigger fish trying to woo and then Ghost ends up bringing you a fucking orca or some shit,

...I had to look up the reproductive cycle of several marine animals for this I hope you are happy.

Deductive Reasoning

Words: 1.3k

CW: ...light fish porn (?)

It was just fascinating. It would have been dreadfully difficult to not talk about this every chance you got and thus break your NDA if not for the fact that you never left this secure little island base. You were permitted to, but why would you want to? You were speaking with living, breathing mermen almost everyday.

4 of them, although they had alluded to their being more out there. These 4 were a... well that was the question wasn't it? Only one shark did not make a shiver, only one seal did not make a herd, only one walrus did not make a rookery and only one mandarinfish did not make a shoal. Was there a collective term for mermen? You were told you were now the leading researcher in the world for this new species, so perhaps that meant you got to decide.

Or maybe you'd just ask. They spoke to you sometimes, or at least made noises. They seemed to understand each other at least which was intriguing on its own.

It had been Soap you had met first. You had been basically abducted and hurried to this island facility where they had captured a real life merman. You were enamoured immediately by the furious thing in the tank. Half seal, harbour seal you thought. Top half looked all but human (skin must be different to allow for underwater living and ah, yes, you could see gills), hair in a mohawk (which suggested someone had cut it to look like that, who? Was it a ritual? Did they have community? Was it an emulation of human culture? Perhaps some mating strategy?), eyes somewhere between human and seal (his physicality was a similar story, he was built strong and thick, a healthy layer of fat over hard muscle).

You perhaps felt a little bashful looking back. You had been so wildly excited, asking a thousand questions and going into chaotic science mode that it took you a whole 16 hours of straight observations and notes to realise there was a creature of higher intelligence being held captive in a tank. You did, of course, apologise profusely. He clearly did not understand what you were saying, but the emotion was human enough. Bemusement.

Soap had come about because he was slippery. Well, actually he wasn't, but the story was that he was slippery. Because if the military knew you had actually been helping him escape you were probably going to get disappeared. It was lucky the facility at that time wasn't as high security, you had gotten away with it.

You had met Gaz right there on the coast when Soap went slicing through the water. You thought looking back that Price and Ghost had probably been there, just out of sight. They had come for him. Gaz was a magnificent thing. His tail was the same pattern as a madarinfish, bright orange with gorgeous blue markings. You had shown him a tin of irn-bru once with a grin and learned then that Soap could laugh. He had come right up to you and after some form of exchange with Soap had been playful, showing off his tail and holding his hand out to you. You had been existing on caffeine and noodles so hardly your fault you took it, getting dragged into the water.

Oh how thrilling an education you received in the courting practices of Dragonets! He had made quite a show of displaying his fins, including a gorgeous dorsal fin on his human looking spine. You knew you simply must see them again if only to study why Gaz's eyes were more human while Soap's leant towards seal like. He was certainly the most expressive of them. His name had only come about because you had tried every other one and he made his disdain for them very clear. By the time the merman had been rubbing what you would call his ventral fins against you, Soap had grabbed you and soundly deposited you back on shore. Just in time too for the soldiers to find you because the doctor later told you that you were in the early stages of hypothermia. Totally worth it actually.

You talked the powers that be into allowing your pet projects to free roam, after all they kept coming back to see you. Over the course of a year the facility was upgraded and a channel added from the sea to an indoor pool that would allow for better study. Soap and Gaz didn't run on a schedule exactly, but they seemed content to swim in every so often and let you poke and prod. Fascinating that they should both be half human but their other half was so entirely different. Soap was half mammal, retractable penis something he was very proud to show off anytime he was in the observation pool. Gaz was half dragonet, and while you tried to put a clutch of eggs in the pool to see if he could fertilise them he had only raised an eyebrow at you and tried once again to pull you in. Tough luck, you had learned your lesson about going into the water with them when you had met Ghost.

It had been the middle of the night when he swam into the pool. Silent, you hadn't heard him (that's where that name had come from in the end). So unsuspecting were you that you were too near the edge and his hand had snaked around your ankle, one sharp pull dragging you in after you fell to the ground (hardly avoiding a broken nose). It wasn't only his tail that was shark, he had a sharp set of teeth that he sank into the meat of your shoulder without much ceremony. His claspers had been strong as hell holding you there, the only thing likely saving you his frustration at your clothes. He must not have understood the concept very well because he released you and dove, pawing at your trousers to try and figure them out. It was an endless source of fascination for him anytime he visited after. He would lean his arms on the pool edge and just stare at your legs, tracing the outline of your body with his sharp eyes. It only seemed fair to let him look since you spent an inordinate amount of time staring at him. He was sleek and muscular, every inch an apex predator in his prime.

It was a contrast to who you would say was the leader of their group. The merman who had saved you from Ghost that first time you met him, who had ripped him away from you when his teeth had sunk into the meat of your thigh through your trousers. Price had hauled you out of the water with ease. He was part Walrus, huge and soft with a layer of blubber similar to Soap's that hid considerable strength. Of all of them his animal half was most pronounced, his canines elongated into tusks and his hair thick and whisker-like around them.

As a scientist you could not possibly play favourites. Price was absolutely your favourite. He would be still and patient with you when you were working with him. He would gently run his fingers over whatever parts of you were in reach. When you babbled excitedly he seemed to listen as best he could.

If you had taken more than a moment to really look into it, you might have realised you were not the only creature conducting research. If you had used some deductive reasoning, you probably could have anticipated that fateful day you were dragged into the sea, never to be seen by the human military again.

[indigosunsetao3]

This one took a good amount of thinking...but I am happy with the result.

"Johnny!" You call as you stroll down the beach, a net bag in your hand jangling full of the things you had found on the shore. The ocean was far too cold for swimming this time of year but it never kept you from strolling down it at sunrise and sunset to see what you could find.

Soap jolts from his spot, disoriented as his hands scramble against the woven blanket. When had he fallen asleep? He glances around the area to figure out where he is before he remembers.

You had dragged him from the flat with a declaration that you needed fresh air. And maybe you could stop at the cafe on the way home for a pastry. Or the bookstore. Maybe even the antique shop. He had laughed at your growing list but joined you anyway, even if he felt a little off kilter.

Coming home after a long deployment always put him in a bit of a fog. His body coming out of the constant fight mode and learning to just relax again. It was always the same the first few days, exhaustion weighing heavy on him so he catnapped whenever the opportunity arose. Though passing out on the beach was a new one for him.

"Johnny," you call again, still down by the shore staring at him.

The sun is to your back, too bright to see your features as Soap pushes up. He can tell you're smiling though, tell by the tone in your voice and the way you have your head cocked to the side.

"Coming bonnie," Soap replies as he stands, his legs shaking a bit. He almost felt feverish, the cold of the ocean air going right down to his bones yet he was hot to the touch as he rubbed his eyes. Fuck if he was sick after being away so long he was going to be mad, he only had a few days home. Right? How long until his next job? How long had he even been home for?

--we need to get him to the evac.

Soap whipped around at the words. He recognized the voice but it sounded far away, as if it were coming to him from underwater. Maybe he really was sick. It would explain why he had passed out on the beach and now he was hearing Price in his head. His flashbacks only ever came to him in his sleep and he certainly felt like he was going to topple over.

"Love," you say suddenly right next to him. When did he get down to the shoreline? The water was seeping into his shoes, his pants, wet all the way up his calves.

Your smile is sweet, soft, as you reach up to gently grab his face to get him to focus on you. You can see the confusion in his eyes as they dart around as if looking for something to ground him. His hands come up to grab your wrists as he finally focuses on you, his breathing rapid and shallow. As if in a panic, or that he can't catch his breath at all.

"You always said you'd come home to me. No matter what, nothing could keep you away," you state as your thumbs run along his cheekbones. "And I need you to come home to me again. We have too many things to do, too many plans for you to give up now." You lean in and give him a gentle kiss, which he returns with fervor, though his body is trembling with exertion against the ocean waves which have reached large swells knocking you both as you attempt to stand.

"Wake up love, and come home to me." Your final words are a command, the tone no longer soft but an order for your soldier.

This is going to hurt Johnny.

Ghost? Soap attempts to turn his head to look but your grip is tight on his face before a searing pain explodes in his thigh. What the fuck is going on? He groans as you hold him and the look of concern on your face is almost enough to crack his pounding heart. He tries to lock in on you, to watch you, but the image flashes.

He's not on the beach at home in Scotland.

He's in the back of a truck with Ghost barking orders at him as he digs around in his leg. It floods back to him, what happened, where he really was. He was on a mission, half a world away from you where you were safely tucked away in your shared flat. Asleep at this hour he's sure.

Soap tries to shift on the truck bed but hands hold him tight as they press against his chest to keep the bleeding under control.

"Almost there," Gaz states as he shoves more gauze against Soap's chest wound. "Tell us more about your bird, been mumbling about her the whole ride," he grins though Soap can see it's forced. A tactic to keep him awake as Ghost snarls and wipes bloodstained fingers against his thighs.

"I've got to get home to her," Johnny manages to ground out before yelping with pain as Ghost twists a tourniquet tighter on his leg. "She gave me a direct order and she's worse than Price when I don't listen."

Hundreds of miles away, you're startled awake by your phone ringing. At this time of night, a phone call from Price was never one you wanted to get. Middle-of-the-night calls were always bad news, worse news when someone you cared about had a dangerous job. Your hands shake as you accept the call, but the first words you hear are:

"He's alive, thanks to you."

[minisiam]

Underwater World Pattaya: Dive into Thailand’s Premier Marine Attraction

Located in the vibrant city of Pattaya, Underwater World Pattaya is one of the top attractions for visitors looking to explore Thailand’s rich marine life without leaving the land. This incredible aquarium offers a unique opportunity to experience the wonders of the ocean, with thousands of marine species showcased in captivating displays. Whether you're a marine enthusiast, a family looking for an educational experience, or simply someone curious about ocean life, Underwater World promises an unforgettable adventure. Let’s dive deeper into the key highlights, pricing, and everything you need to know about this spectacular attraction.

Highlights of Underwater World Pattaya

One of the main reasons tourists flock to Underwater World Pattaya is the extensive variety of marine life on display. From colorful tropical fish to majestic sharks, the aquarium is home to a diverse range of species that call the ocean their home. Some key Underwater World Highlights include:

Interactive Zones: Touch tanks allow visitors to have a hands-on experience with marine creatures like starfish and sea cucumbers.

The 100-meter-long tunnel: This feature lets you walk through a glass-enclosed tunnel surrounded by water, providing a 360-degree view of the underwater world. You’ll be able to observe creatures like stingrays, giant groupers, and sharks swimming overhead.

Feeding Sessions: Daily feeding shows bring the aquatic world to life as professional divers feed sharks, rays, and other large fish, offering an exciting, up-close view of their feeding habits.

Coral Reef Zone: This area showcases vibrant corals and the variety of marine life that inhabits these ecosystems, mimicking the natural reefs found off Thailand’s coastlines.

With these exciting attractions, Underwater World Pattaya stands out as one of the must-see Pattaya Attractions, drawing in both locals and international tourists.

Underwater World Location and Address

Underwater World Pattaya is conveniently located just a short distance from the bustling city center, making it easily accessible for tourists. The Underwater World Location is at 22/22 Moo 11, Sukhumvit Road, Nongprue, Banglamung, Chonburi 20260, Thailand. Its proximity to major hotels and other Pattaya Attractions makes it a perfect spot to add to your itinerary when visiting Pattaya.

Underwater World Pattaya Timings

For those planning a visit, it’s important to know the Underwater World Timing. The aquarium is open daily from 9:00 AM to 6:00 PM, with the last entry allowed at 5:30 PM. These hours give visitors plenty of time to explore the exhibits and attend feeding sessions or shows throughout the day.

Ticket Prices and Bookings for Underwater World Pattaya

To make the most of your trip, you’ll want to know the Underwater World Price for admission. As of the latest updates, the Underwater World Tickets are priced as follows:

Adults: THB 500

Children (Under 130 cm): THB 300

These rates offer great value for the immersive experience you’ll enjoy at the aquarium. For families, group discounts may also be available. Additionally, you can Book Underwater World tickets online or at the entrance. Online Underwater World Bookings often come with discounted rates or bundled packages with other Pattaya Tours, so it's worth checking the options in advance.

You can easily find deals and make Underwater World Bookings through various platforms, and booking is highly recommended, especially during peak tourist seasons.

Underwater World Pattaya Reviews

According to various Underwater World Reviews, visitors rave about the cleanliness, family-friendly atmosphere, and extensive collection of marine life. Many tourists highlight the aquarium's tunnel as the most memorable experience, while others appreciate the interactive exhibits that engage children and adults alike. Some reviews suggest that the best time to visit is during feeding hours to witness the action-packed sessions. Overall, Underwater World Pattaya has a strong reputation for providing an entertaining and educational experience for visitors of all ages.

Marine Life at Underwater World Pattaya

The array of Marine Life Pattaya is simply extraordinary. The aquarium features over 5,000 marine animals from different parts of the world, organized into different zones. You'll encounter fascinating species, from freshwater fish and coral reef inhabitants to the more elusive creatures found in the deeper parts of the ocean. Among the highlights are seahorses, jellyfish, giant spider crabs, and the ever-impressive sand tiger sharks.

For visitors eager to explore Pattaya Aquarium offerings, there’s something new to discover in every corner, making Underwater World one of the best ways to experience the marvels of marine life.

Why Visit Underwater World Pattaya?

If you’re visiting Thailand, especially for Thai Tourism, a trip to Underwater World Pattaya offers a break from the usual beach or city sights. It’s a great way to connect with nature while learning about the importance of marine conservation. Pattaya’s lively city offers plenty of entertainment opportunities, but Underwater World provides a quieter, more reflective experience, focusing on the beauty and importance of underwater ecosystems.

Best Pattaya Tours: Adding Underwater World to Your Itinerary

When planning your trip to Pattaya, including Underwater World in your tour itinerary is a must. Many of the Best Pattaya Tours combine visits to the aquarium with other popular attractions, such as the Nong Nooch Tropical Garden, Sanctuary of Truth, and floating markets. These combo tours are often available at discounted rates and provide a comprehensive way to explore Pattaya’s most famous spots.

Whether you're looking for an activity that’s family-friendly, educational, or simply awe-inspiring, Underwater World Pattaya promises to be one of the highlights of your visit. So, don’t miss the chance to witness some of the world’s most fascinating marine life right in the heart of Pattaya.

[ok555ficideas]

This is a fragment of a fake/pretend relationship Buddie fic that I will post on Christmas as a gift to my partner (thank god they are not on tumblr so I can post this here). This was supposed to be them just innocently practice kissing and instead they decided to fuck against a wall

edit: link

Practice makes pe-”

Buck didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because Eddie’s body seemed to have had enough. His mind was screaming at him to get away and laugh it off, but his lips had other ideas. And what a glorious idea it was.

Kissing Buck was like coming home. It was like taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long or like stretching your legs after a long flight. It was calm and soft and so fuckking gentle Eddie couldn’t bear it. He needed to be closer. He needed to feel every inch of Buck. He needed to crawl right under his skin and never leave.

He let out a quiet whimper and that seemed to convey his message because the next thing he knew the control was being ripped right out of his hands. Buck spun them around to pushed Eddie against the neerset wall and the kiss became the farthest thing from gentle.

It became hungry and passionate. It stopped feeling like just coming home and started to feel like welcoming someone back after a lifetime of not seeing each other. Buck kissed him like he wanted to devour him and Eddie would gladly let him. He gave himself up completely. He parted his lips at the first touch of Buck’s tongue. He let Buck lick into his mouth and explore every inch. He couldn't breath and was on the verge of passing out, but if losing his consciousness was the price he had to pay to kiss Buck even a second longer he would gladly sacrifice himself.

He couldn’t break the kiss because what if this was the only chance he got. What if after this kiss he would never get to taste Buck again. He had to savour it. He had to grab Buck’s curls and tug to ground himself in the moment and never let go of the memory.

Buck was the first to pull away and this time Eddie couldn’t suppress the whine. He was quickly silenced by Buck’s mouth latching onto his neck, but he didn’t stay silent for long. Without Buck’s lips against his, all of the sounds he was making were echoing through the otherwise silent room. He was reduced to a moaning mess and if not for the broad body holding him up against the wall he would surely no longer stay standing.

When all of a sudden his feet lost contact with the floor, he thought that he finally lost his balance. But instead of landing on the ground he ended up with his legs wrapped around Buck’s middle. The sound that escaped him was something that he wasn’t proud of, but before he had a chance to get embarrassed Buck’s lips were back on his.

Buck’s hands traveled up and instead of holding on the back of his thighs they landed on his ass and squeezed. Eddie’s hips hitched forward and his clothed bulge made contact with Buck’s. They both let out a moan at the contact and for a moment the world around them froze.

Buck pulled his face back to look into Eddie’s eyes, but still didn’t drop him to the floor. Eddie tightened his grip on Buck to try and keep him as close as possible for at least a second longer. This was about to end so Eddie had to soak up as much of Buck’s proximity and warmth as he could.

Buck’s gaze was traveling all over his face. It looked like he was searching for something. He finally settled back on Eddie’s eyes and gently, almost like he was afraid, his hips lifted up to grind against Eddie in a small thrust. Eddie’s breath caught in his throat and his mouth hang open. He was so sure that Buck was going to pull away that he wasn’t ready for the glorious friction.

Buck’s eyes were dead focused on his face, but Eddie couldn’t hold his gaze any longer. Whatever was happening here he was going to enjoy it. He didn’t know what exactly Buck was looking for in his face, but he hoped it was just to make sure that Eddie was okay with what they were doing so he started nodding his head in earnest. He didn’t trust his voice to speak, so he hoped with everything that he got that it would be enough.

As soon as he started nodding his head he was rewarded with a faster pace of Buck’s hips and those magnificent lips that he was dreaming off every night ever since he realized he was gay, were latching onto his neck once again. Buck sucked on Eddie’s pulse point like he wanted to leave a mark that would never fade away. Eddie wished it wouldn’t. He wanted to wear Buck’s mark for the rest of his life. He wanted to be his and only his and for everyone to know it.

After Buck was done with sucking a hickey onto the side of his neck, he put a gentle kiss against it and Eddie felt like crying. He could handle the passion and the desperation. He could handle Buck being attracted to him, but for the man to act like he loved him was too much.

He grabbed a fistfull of Buck’s hair and roughly hauled him up and into a kiss. There was nothing gentle or loving about it. Eddie kissed Buck like he wanted to destroy him and in a way that was exactly his goal. He wanted to destroy Buck for anyone else. He wanted to leave Buck with a taste of him so strong that he would never be able to forget it. He wanted everyone who would have the privilege of kissing the blonde from now on to taste Eddie as well.

Eddie bit Buck’s bottom lip and it earned him a delicious sound. Buck’s hips started to move faster and faster and Eddie wanted to get rid of the clothing that separated them, but that would be too much. He was afraid that if there was no barrier between them he would lose all composure. His brain to mouth filter would cease to exist and the words he was holding onto so tightly would spill out. He couldn’t let them do that. He had to keep it all in and let his body do the talking.

He braced his hands on Buck’s shoulders for a better leverage and started to grind his hips down as well. His clothed dick was rubbing against Buck’s belly and Eddie imagined what it would feel like to bite the soft skin. His ass was rutting against Buck’s impressive length and Eddie felt the shudder running all over his body at the thought of what it would feel like filling him up. He would let Buck do anything he wanted to him. Take him in whatever way he desired, but on the occasions that he let his thoughts run that far he was imagining Buck underneath him.

He imagined Buck sitting on Eddie’s couch, completely blissed out as Eddie rode him to oblivion. Buck loved towering over people, but something told him that he wouldn’t mind looking up at him. He would grab his hair and tug it a little just to hear Buck moan.

A sharp bite to his Adam apple brought him back to his current situation and he couldn’t believe he wasted his precious time with Buck on daydreaming about him. He focused back on grinding against the other man and regretted how close he already was. Buck was right there with him if the slightly shattered and less controlled movements of his hips were anything to go by.

Eddie wanted to slow them down and make them last longer, but he knew he had already pushed his luck. He brought Buck into one last kiss that muffled their moans of blinding pleasure. They came at the same time, but their grinds didn't stop. They were still moving, now way slower than before and they were dancing on the edge of overstimulation, but neither of them were stopping. Eddie squeezed all of his limbs tighter around Buck’s body and one of Buck’s hands detached itself from Eddie’s ass and landed on his cheek, cupping it in a way that made Eddie’s head spin.

[xtrafluffyteddy]

Home for Christmas

Pairing: John “soap” mactavish x reader

Warnings: pregnancy, angst, major character death, bittersweet ending

You were in the throws of decorating for soaps upcoming return and Christmas right around the corner, when you heard a soft knocking at you door, quickly climbing down the small step ladder you waddle your way to the door excitement bubbling in your chest wondering if somehow Johnny was able to get home earlier than expected mind running with thoughts of finishing decorating the nursery with him, putting up the tree, and doing all the sappy Christmas stuff you both have grown to love throughout the years.

Oh how wrong you were. Flinging open the door bright smile on your face only to be met by Price and Ghost standing before you with somber looks in their eyes. Not wanting to expect the worst you look past them hoping to catch a glimpse of Johnnys familiar mohawk and boisterous voice “Where’s Johnny” you ask looking at the two men before you “did he take a separate car? Got held up by paperwork?” The two men share a quick look before stepping inside leading you to the couch where they help you sit down.

“Sweetheart” Ghost begins as he looks away not ready to see your excitement turn to grief at what he’s about to say “I’ll take it from here Simon” Price assures the man patting the lieutenants shoulder before taking your hands in his scarred ones “Price, Simon, your scaring me where’s Johnny” you ask already feeling a pit of dread in your stomach. “Lass” Price begins “Soap- John, he isn’t coming home” he squeezes your hand gently “did he get held up or something did the mission extend?” You tried to come up with any reason as to why Johnny’s not coming home other than the one you dread the most. “Johnny was killed in action sweetheart, he would’ve tore the world apart with his bare hands if it meant coming home to you and him” he points to your stomach. You place a gentle hand on your stomach where you and johnnys son is safely nestled not knowing that he’ll never meet his dad.

“Lass” Proce inquired as he reached out to rub your arm “you still with us?” Everything sounded like it was underwater your mind running a mile a minute Johnnys not coming home, he was killed in action, you’ll raise the child you tried so hard for alone, you’ll never have another Christmas with him. “Sweetheart” Ghosts call of your name snapped you out of it “is there anything we can do to make this easier” you shook your head mouth dry, words caught in your throat.

After that day Price and Ghost had been there everyday to make sure you were eating well, drinking water, making it to your appointments just like Soap would’ve done. “It’s time lass” price murmured as he and ghost waited by the car door wearing full black, “coming” you whisper as you get out of the vehicle Johnnys ashes clutched in your arms black veil covering your face “we’ve got you sweetheart” Ghost murmured as he lead you towards the cliff side where Gaz was waiting “rest easy soap” ghost grunted eyes staring out at the crashing waves “goodbye my darling” you whisper voice cracking as you released his ashes watching as the waves swallowed them up. It was almost comforting knowing Johnny made it home where he belonged.

Not the best I made myself sad :(

[yohohonabottle]

A letter to the Merlinverse

As fireworks fly and echo through the air, wisps of cheerful energy and mana flow like threads. And a quill materializes, brimming with colors and hues, with powder akin to a fairy wings' dust-- It flits through, and a gloved hand grasps it, scrawling onto thin air-

'Dear fellow Creators, actors (characters), Magisters, from across this vast and boundless expanse of universes-Thank you, for all the days of cheer and love gifted-'

'Thank you, for the adventures unforgettable and unwavering support! Let this new dawn, be our rise to newer heights. To you- A toast! - Ludovic Whiteridge'

'Thank you, for the boundless warmth during the past year of 2024. Here to you, and to these new days. Great luck, health, prosperous thriving and unshakable spirits, to hope kindled but never extinguished. Remember- You're stronger than you suspect. And where you come from, you've come from. Best of regards, your truly - Harlequin P.S : And take good care of yourselves! Be, stay safe and hydrate! >:('

--Somewhere amidst the snow and chill of Holistone, the soft jingles of copper cow and sheep bells rings. A lone masked figure stands, the long, messy fur of light auburn, dark greys and whites sway in the winds. Catching the quill of magic, he draws into a waltz-like dance of circling, drawing lines in the air as he does-

'May your year, and forevermore, be filled with joys and sincerest of camaraderie!' -The Dancer taps his staff on the ground in firm finality- '(Да бъде!) So be it! May you soar, high and far, heart ablaze with love endless!' -Another firm tap on the ground- '(Да бъде!) So be it! Fearlessly ride on the winds with the run of Mistress time! May you come in triumph! Rebound from every fall stronger, tougher and wiser! So be it! (Да бъде!)' -The Missing taps his staff onto the ground, a final resounding clang of his bells.

-A soothing hum echoes from seemingly afar, a song of no lyrics but playful and cheery tones. As a furry, clawed hand grasps the quill, the cryptid's lines sure and sharp motions, yet with a flair of elegant cursive looping. Weaving his own blessings into the tapestry-

'The days coming will challenge and reward handsomely, the brave and the running, lessons waiting to be etched and learnt. Be resilient, be steady with a vigilant mind, know when to regroup from battles - So you'll return to the field trice as armed, and victory, is yours...Should you know where, how to play your cards dealt & gained. Forge forth your fate, dear Magisters and Directors. (creators), Only you hold the threads.'

Soaring through horizons and lands, a weathered hand claps it in firm hold, a steady sure gaze of neutrality gazing. Before swiping across the air in movements both languid, and sharp, precise-

'May your hands not stain, wish this new year and all the ones following, bring you perspectives that you'd not known. So the lessons and tolls on your shoulders lessen in weight, pass smoother rather than thunders and tsunami tides. Hold your compass when you venture, and weigh your risks well, the price you wish to pay. And may the dues you owe, are owed, be paid in full. Not every sea, can be sailed with ease. Watch for currents and underwater vortexes. ..The quiet waters, are most cunning to beware.'

At last, the quill lands in the hands of one- A gleeful and mischievous spirit yet also person, like two twins in a house or gallery of mirrors. A light, knowing smile of warm quiet wisdom on her lips as she scrawls. The final few touches.

"Hello, and Happy New year to all! The previous year was... an up and down ride, like the heartbeat line on a monitor. I lost, and gained (Loved ones moving onto other planes on their own journeys, companions who were with me since childhood and a new one to grow old with me. A taste of the world in the form of travelling both in my country and outside, experiences- where pleasant, where more of a lesson with varying harshness or lightness..), and within that year I found my creative flames once more. Just as I had lost them. I came back stronger, or so at least I hope.

The end of 2024 was 1000% let loose and of total indulgence, in a way also my rock bottom. But amidst all of that, in that year, I also found... You. This wild, warm, wonderful community. And I'm thankful beyond words for it. And it all started, when I stumbled upon an add for AFKJ- what? Two? Three?? Years ago, while browsing YouTube for something to listen to in the background, or for Genshin Spiral Abyss strats.

And then I hopped onto this new game, fell in love with it, with Esperia - Just when Song of Strife was around the corner to drop. Then my spark for creation has been lit and flared, and here we are with the rest being history. Wild how things work, huh?

With all of this said and done-- Rock on, Merlinverse and everyone over this crazy circus called reality! Shine radiantly as always, you got this! Let's conquer this 2025 and the ones to come!" - Finch/Crow

@meepinmeat, @bunnybird-afk, @windmaedchen-oceanhorn, @fgfirenation, @gloriousrebirth, @wilderhyperfoxations, @magister-violyste, @bentleydings, @laylinara, @feli026, @jailrose, @confusedeldritch, @kurokid1412, I might've missed someone, I hope not-

[cookieinstinct]

America is turning into the Handmaids tale. That sentence has been thrown around a lot the past couple years and I think I’m actually starting to believe it. Are we gonna have to go full handmaids tale before you guys start to WAKE UP. What’s it’s going to take for you trump supporters to finally say I’m sorry you told me so to finally feel remorse?

is it?? Perhaps when all immigrants are deported? is it when queer people what? Reform? go to church camps? Get “cured?” or how about when all trans children have committed suicide? How about when every single indigenous person and families have been eradicated? When doctors life saving doctors are being arrested for performing medical procedures? When your diabetic grandmother can no longer afford her insulin because of inflation and she looses a limb?? A world where Palestine isn’t even on a map? how about getting rid of every single Jewish, Muslim non Christian person and religion because “Trump is for Jesus?” Or maybe when states like Florida and California are all underwater for not taking climate change seriously? How about all the black Americans that the cops will and HAVE turned their backs on and will continue doing so? How about when the grocery prices start going up so severely and the stock market crashes again and we will be forced to into another Depression?? When so many forced births are happening more children being born dead? More children being born of rape and incest being put into foster care and the influx of children going into foster care with no where to go and no family. When all the black women you know go missing? When gun violence is so out of control people don’t even feel safe leaving their own houses or going to work or children going to school? What is it going to take for you people to feel empathy? To feel bad about what’ve you’ve done. To feel regret.

I’m going to compare it personally because it seems the only CHANCE of yall feeling remorse is when it has to be affecting you, personally.

when your own happily pregnant daughter has a miscarriage and she’s charged with second degree murder? And her doctor is arrested.

when your five year old son gets shot and killed by a new gun law YOU voted

when your child is going through a vitamin deficiency for your inability to pay for groceries and they start loosing teeth?

When your daughters rapist gets child support

when your retired elderly parents are forced to start working again because of the housing crisis

what needs to happen for yall to wake up and realize what will happen or at the very least what COULD happen.

(I’m sorry with how vulgar and blunt this post is but I just can’t help put it out there HOW and WHAT could happen without pg-ing it sanitizing it better for them to consume and be comfortable with reading. I don’t give a shit, be uncomfortable)