#I’m already working on Classic Tangle | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sseomtada · 7 months ago

Text

being [ruben dias]

a stunning revelation only drives you and ruben closer.

warnings: 18+ | wc: 6212 | 7/8

You shook off your surprise after a beat to give her a hug.

“I had to come and see you at some point.” She squeezed your shoulders. “You haven’t been back in months.”

It was difficult to not feel a bit guilty. Prior to moving to Manchester and because your office wasn’t even half an hour away from your home, you’d frequently go back to visit her. Even though things had been going pretty much nonstop in your new city, you could’ve at least made a weekend trip to drop by.

“I’m sorry, I know Jason must be driving you crazy with his antics.” You tried to joke to lighten the mood.

“Maluco…he misses you too.” Her head shook.

You wheeled the bag she’d brought along with her inside and told her to make herself comfortable. The way your blood was rushing and your heartbeat was pounding felt like you were in danger of passing out.

Your only option was to let her in. What else could you do? Be vague about the situation and tell her to come back later because you had some male company over? Judging by the looks of her, she was fresh from the airport. Also important to note was that your mom definitely expected to stay with you during however long her visit was, so she didn’t have a hotel reservation lined up either.

What would you do about Ruben? Your eyes darted to your phone on the coffee table. If you could distract her for a while, maybe you could successfully sneak him out of here without her noticing. It wouldn’t be the first time you and him had to complete such a mission.

“I’ll put on some of that tea you like.” You swiped the device and took it with you to the kitchen.

Luckily, due to your inability to have dishes lingering around, the two plates and glasses you’d used for dinner had already been thrown into the dishwasher. His shoes were also tucked into the cabinet by your doorway. What other evidence of him…

You bit down on a gasp, eyes widening to turn back to your living room. Where the fuck was his shirt? It wasn’t on the sofa where your mom was sitting as far as you could see. Though it could be tangled in the blanket at the other end. You said a silent prayer that she didn’t get too chilly and worked on brewing her tea even faster to prevent that.

In the meantime, you cracked open your phone to see that Ruben had already sent you a message.

Is that your mom…?

Yes 😭

You jumped at the sound of a faint notification pin. With a deep breath, you steeled your nerves as much as possible. If anything, she’d probably assume it was your device going off and not think anything was awry.

We’re gonna have to whip out Project Switcharoo. You remember it?

Of course, I invented it.

Despite the absolute absurdity of the situation, you managed to crack a smile. Ruben was always a respectful and upstanding person. When two teenagers were in love, though, it was hard to accept things like not having boys in your room after dark.

He came up with a plan that was like the classic method of pickpocketing - a bait and switch scenario. For tonight’s occasion, it would look something like this. While she was occupied, he would sneak his way up to your guest bathroom to clear out the bedroom. You’d then take her to your room to show her around, pulling her to the window where the doorway wasn’t visible and allowing him to swiftly make a break for it.

Don’t forget to fix the bed.

Got it. What about my shirt?

You might have to steal one of my hoodies.

The kettle whistled, starting the timer on your mission. Once the tea was fixed and he saw you cross over from the kitchen to the living room, he’d start making his way to phase one. You did up her cup just the way she liked it, took another steadying breath and made your way over.

“You usually hate taking night flights, why didn’t you come earlier?” Your hands shook slightly as you handed her the beverage.

She took a slow sip of her tea, gaze not meeting yours. The fine hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Having lived with your mom for most of your life, you could automatically tell when something was off.

From you saw her at the door and she didn’t greet you half as excitedly as she did on phone calls, you felt it. You tried to battle that notion by rationalizing that you were being extra paranoid because she’d shown up during literally the last moment you’d want her to. It was impossible to ignore now, especially given how long she was taking to answer your question.

“Is everything okay?” You could feel your throat swelling.

“That’s what I came to ask you.” She finally spoke.

Your mom sighed and rested the cup of tea onto the side table. She reached into her purse to pull out her phone. This wasn’t an impromptu drop by driven by your extended absence after all. You knew what it was - an intervention.

Her screen lit up your view as she slid the device onto your lap. There was a screenshot of an Instagram post and in it was a photo of you and Ruben. It was taken on the night of the Nike launch party. You flipped to the next image in her folder. Someone with crazy zoom had caught you two walking towards his car at City’s training grounds.

There were no words. Your mind first went to the conversation Ruben and you had earlier about how much media attention he got, the fact that there was already news out there concerning you two. It was unnerving to actually be staring at the proof of that.

Then came the guilt. The last thing you wanted was for her to find out through the grapevine that you were back together with him. Whether she’d come across it by chance, was sent the post or actively went looking for it didn’t matter. You should’ve been the one to break the news.

And lastly, fear. Her flying out here as soon as she found out meant that she was absolutely not pleased and potentially worried about the state of your mental health. She couldn’t be blamed for that. Any mother that saw their daughter go through what you did after the breakup would have the same reaction to seeing you with the man that put you there.

“Ruben and I are dating again.” You admitted. “We talked it over and decided to give things a chance.”

Your mom scoffed. “See, this is why I had to come. Do you hear yourself? You’re, what, dating him? After everything he put you through?”

Although you anticipated her being upset, you didn’t expect the backlash to be this severe. It honestly took you by surprise. You gave her back her phone and stood, needing some distance from the anger she was radiating.

“I don’t expect you to be happy about it. All I ask is that you trust me and my decision, and not belittle either.” Your voice was even despite everything you felt.

She spoke to you as if you were some thoughtless, naive child. God knows you didn’t just take him back without considering every outcome, especially the worse case scenario. If shit went badly between you two again, you were ready to take accountability.

“I do trust you.” Her tone was less combative. “But do I trust your decision? I can’t…you’ve never been able to think straight when it came to that boy.”

It felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You didn’t think it was unreasonable of you to ask for her not to act as if you were being trivial. The fact that she was speaking to you like you were still the same person that you were seven years ago was hurtful, and quite frankly, insulting.

“My mind is as clear as it’s ever been.” You sighed, growing resigned with this conversation.

She wasn’t though, “No, it isn’t. If you had any common sense left, you wouldn’t be caught dead with him!”

“Mom-“ Your gasp was cut short.

With the unexpected, heated exchange, you’d forgotten all about Ruben still being in the apartment. That was until he made his was out of hiding, clearly having overheard it all. Thankfully he had found your pile of oversized hoodies to cover up. You didn’t know how many more insults you could take tonight.

“I’m sorry.” Ruben made his presence known. “We - I should’ve reached out to you first.”

Your mom spun slowly to look at him. It was a searing, scrutinizing leer that even had you shivering. You’d never seen her take in anyone that way. To his credit, he didn’t cower beneath her glare. He looked like he was ready to accept whatever vitriol she had for him.

“This is exactly what I mean.” She laughed ruefully, pointing between you two.

You were about to tell her to stop when he shook his head.

“Was this your plan all along?” Her question was directed at him. “Were you lying when you promised me you’d-“

Ruben’s eyes were wide with shock and…something you couldn’t quite place. It appeared to be worry, but not for himself. The way she stopped short of her barrage didn’t sit well with you either.

You watched as they seemed to have some nonverbal exchange. At that point, it became obvious that something had happened between them. Something you didn’t know about. Did she confront him after the break up? What promise was she talking about?

“What’s going on?” You asked Ruben directly.

He became a man that was visibly torn, eyes darting between yours and your mom’s. The decision of whether or not he should say anything weighed heavy on his conscience.

You turned to her instead, “Mom, what are you talking about?”

Instead of being met with all the fire you faced before, she bore a similar downcast demeanor as him. Her head hung as she placed her hands to her waist. It was a telltale sign that whatever you were about to find out wasn’t going to look good on her part.

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Ruben made his way to leave. “When you’re ready, call me.”

Your head was spinning with how much had happened in such a short period of time. How did your night go from tickle fights, to cooking up an escape plan and now to being on the verge of hearing about a conversation kept hidden from you for nearly a decade?

She sat back down on the sofa, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. Instead, you found yourself pacing back and forth while your mom quietly worked through whatever was eating away at her.

“Please just…tell me.” You couldn’t stomach the silence anymore.

Her voice was barely audible as she finally confessed, “The reason Ruben broke up with you is because I asked him to.”

september 15th 2017

Ruben

He was brimming with excitement. All of the sacrifices he’d made, every second of commitment, it was all coming into fruition. His coach told him after practice that he was going to debut for the first team during the match tomorrow.

The first person he wanted to tell was you. You’d been by his side since the literal beginning, when his dream of becoming a footballer was just that - a fantasy. Having you in his life made a journey that broke so many others more than tolerable. He trained and played with your support always at the forefront of his mind.

Ruben bounded his way up the steps to your place and stopped short. Your mom stood with her back facing him, a trail of smoke floating into the air. That was new. Or maybe it was an old habit she indulged in from time to time. When she became aware of being there, the cigarette landed under her shoe.

“I’ve been caught,” Her teeth flashed. “Don’t tell Y/N.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” His fingers zipped across his lips.

She nodded in appreciation. There was clearly something on her mind. He knew that life hadn’t been the easiest for her or you and couldn’t imagine how lonely it must’ve been sometimes. That was why he made himself available to help out as much as he could’ve, if only to lessen the burdens a bit.

“Does she ever talk about her father?” The question she asked confirmed his suspicion.

You never brought him up, in fact. Given that, he didn’t feel as if it was his place to pry. Ruben had heard through the grapevine of neighborhood gossips about his absence and how you didn’t even know who he was.

“She doesn’t.” He replied.

Your mom looked up at the sky, “That’s understandable. You see…”

Ruben found himself listening to the missing pieces that not even you knew. She told him about how they’d met when she was sixteen and that she immediately fell for him - a young, budding football star.

It wasn’t because she was getting attention from someone so coveted, but because he actually saw her the way she’d always craved to be seen. So when he moved to a new team in another country to further pursue his career, she followed along.

She left everything behind. Her family, friends and education. Her dream became seeing his come true. When it did, they were both in the happiest stage of their relationship. And then at nineteen, she found out that she was pregnant with you.

The life she wanted was all coming into place. She thought the next step would be welcoming their baby, getting married and maybe having a few more to fill up their home. What she got instead was abandonment. He didn’t want any of that, or you.

Her parents had warned her that it would happen, but she casted their concerns aside as unfair judgment on his part. They didn’t see her like he did. Moving back in with them after what had happened wasn’t possible given the way they’d left things.

“I see so much of myself in her.” Your mom smiled. “She looks at you the same way I used to look at her dad.” Ruben understood why she was telling him all of this. It was obvious that she was scared you were following the same path and would end up in the same predicament. He didn’t take any offense to her perhaps believing that he was capable of doing the same thing.

“I love her, a lot.” His cheeks rose quickly. “More than I ever knew was possible.”

When he used to think about love, he always tried to rationalize it - to make it make sense. It was only after he realized that he felt that towards you that he came to know the emotion was something that couldn’t be explained. Even saying those words didn’t feel like enough to encompass the spectrum of moments that all combined to make him experience what could only be verbally express in such a limited capacity.

“That’s good because it means you’ll do anything for her.” She nodded.

“Yeah, I would.” He breathed. See, where was the rationale behind something like that?

“I need you to break up with her. She’s too dependent on you and it’ll ruin her in the long run.”

If words could render him speechless and knock him off his feet, those were the ones that would be able to do so. He couldn’t quite believe that was what she said at first. His mind instantly went into denial mode, because surely she was joking. When he stared back at unflinching eyes, he knew that she was being dead serious.

“I…can’t do that, respectfully.” Ruben shook his head.

You might see him in a light that sometimes is admittedly pressuring, making him wonder if he could live up to be that man you painted him out to be in your mind. That didn’t worry him though. If anything, he wanted to keep trying to prove to himself, and you, that he could be.

Beside that, you were strong in your own right. He’d never met anyone who took advantage of every little opportunity they received and made the most out of them. Even in your darkest moments, he saw the determination in you to not want to quit. You inspired him.

“I’m not going to stand by and watch her destroy herself like I did. You’re the only one who can prevent that.” He saw that same persistence in the gaze he got. “The choice is yours. Will it be you or me?”

Ruben thought he understood what this conversation was about in the beginning, but he’d read it all wrong. He only now grasped that she was giving him an ultimatum of sorts. One where there was no real decision for him to make, it was a catch 22.

If he didn’t break up with you, then your mom would abandon you just like your father did to you both. He would have to live with knowing that he was the reason why you had no blood ties left in your life, a notion that was breaking him even in hypotheticals.

Since he quickly realized that he had no choice, he began to reframe it in a way that didn’t hurt as much. The only loser in this situation would be him. You’d be hurt at first, maybe devastated, but you’d have people around you to help you through it. He would just have to figure out a way to deal with his own pain, perhaps starting with taking solace in knowing that he didn’t rob you of your only family.

“Promise me you’ll do the right thing.” Your mom looked back at him as she approached the door.

She lingered there until the words begrudgingly left his lips, “I promise.”

o presente

Everything burned.

Your eyes and nose, your heart itself. Sure, you’d experienced heartbreak before but it was child’s play compared to what was wreaking havoc in your soul - betrayal. Never in a million years did you ever expect the reason behind your breakup to be your own mother.

The person sitting in front of you crying tears of her own was a foreign entity. You failed to recognize the woman that baked you cakes, taught you dance routines and held you at your lowest.

How could she do that to you? Did she think that forcing Ruben to do something so cruel was the way to express the deep love she supposedly had for you? Or was it some fucked up trauma response to the past she never dealt with?

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Your mom sniffed. “I regret all the pain I caused because of that night.”

What you were going through now felt a thousand, a million times worse than then. There was no denial to turn to for even a second of hope. This ugly, soul crushing truth bared its jagged teeth and was ripping away your flesh.

“It shouldn’t have happened, but I can’t take it back.” She continued. “All I could’ve done was to be there for you to help you through it, praying that you came out stronger and you did.”

“Are you serious? How could you even think that was right?” You sobbed.

It was all loud and clear to you. She regretted putting you through hell, but she didn’t regret actually doing it. Despite watching you break down for weeks, she still believed that what she made him do somehow helped you. She wasn’t sorry that she did it, she was sorry that she got caught - that you finally found out the truth.

“I-“ You bit your lip to suppress another snivel. “I need some space. You can stay here tonight, but I want you gone tomorrow.”

The most messed up part was that saying those words hurt you even more. Even though she was the one who put you both in this situation, you felt like the bad guy for asserting a rightful boundary. Those blissful memories you had of her hadn’t suddenly evaporated into nothing.

You took your phone and keys, and left her in your apartment. An aching uncertainty hung over your head. You were unsure how long you’d need before you could even look at her again without feeling such overwhelming disappointment.

Aki’s blanket slipped from her head as soon as she took in the state of you stood in her doorway. It had to be deja vu all over for her again, how many times have you done this? Why was life continuously throwing blow after blow at your gut?

“Do you have any whiskey?” Your inquiry sprang her into action.

She shuffled over to the kitchen and brought out one of her biggest bottles along with two glasses. You didn’t have the stomach anymore for straight liquor, but you’d needed it to calm the raging sea of emotions.

Her eyes were wiped clean of any traces of slumber once she joined you on the sofa. You immediately poured two fingers and threw it back. And then doubled that.

“Woah, let’s…get to the part where you tell me what brought this on before you black out.” Aki pulled the bottle towards her.

“Seven years ago, my mother made Ruben promise he’d break up with me.” You laughed humorlessly.

It was weird watching her expression go through several shifts within the span of a few seconds. That must’ve been what you looked like from the other perspective too once you found out.

She topped up and threw back her own glass before asking you to shed light on that very stupefying statement. You filled her in starting from the pretext. All about your mom’s past and what your dad did to her.

How she told Ruben all of this on the night prior to issuing him a task so abhorrent that you still were coming to grips with fathoming it. Aki appeared to be just as woeful as you were upon the discovery.

Similar to this wound being repeatedly ripped open for you, it was for her. Your mother was like a her second one. So many days and nights were filled with the three of you laughing, dancing and crying together. She spent so much time lamenting Ruben, more than you by far, for what he’d done. And just as you were now, she felt guilty for it.

“I feel like I’ve brought so much chaos into your life and I’m sorry for it all.” You sipped the alcohol slower this time.

“Don’t do that.” Aki objected. “None of this is your fault. I’m sorry that she did this to you, Y/N. God, I can’t imagine how you feel right now.”

She pulled you in. You were so sick of crying, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Tears flowed hot and fresh, especially when you felt her own sobs racking through her body. You patted her back, lips trembling as you fought the urge to apologize again.

There was nothing to say. You were all victims of one person’s action born of insecurity. It fucking sucked, but there wasn’t much either of you could do about it now. All that was left was for you to be there for one another, to work through the pile of shit you’d been handed until you could see the ground again.

When you woke up the following day, you found that your request had been met. Your apartment was free and clear as you learned via text. Boarding my flight back. Again, I’m sorry Y/N.

You weren’t in the mood to unpack all of that again right now. The first thing you did was change into some workout clothes to head to the gym for a run. While the activity didn’t entirely clear your mind, your focus did find itself pulled more in the direction of your burning muscles than your stormy mind.

After you showered, you threw a bagel in the toaster and hopped into the shower. You forced yourself to munch on that in between massive gulps of water. The whiskey was fighting back and paired with the emotional exhaustion you felt, it was best to take the day off.

Aki and Cindy told you not to worry about work, they’d hold down the fort. You were more grateful towards them now than you’d ever been. Just don’t drink the last of my favorite coffee pods, you warned in the group chat.

You reclined onto your sofa and put on a random mix of recommended YouTube videos. No media would provide the distraction you truly needed, but it was nice to have some background noise. The cushion under your head wasn’t laying the way you wanted to, so you adjusted and felt the obstruction.

It was Ruben’s shirt. The one you had on was replaced with his before you curled up. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder what this meant now for you and him. Of course, you still wanted to be with Ruben. How did it impact him though?

He must’ve been back in that same headspace he was in when they had that exchange. Was he wondering whether or not she had issued the same choice to you after he left? Even though she didn’t and you were holding off on communicating with her for a while, you didn’t want him to think that you were giving up on a relationship with your mom because of him.

You weren’t completely shutting her out of your life, but at the current moment, you just couldn’t see how you would ever trust her again. The relationship you had with her would never be the same, and fault solely rested on her part.

You couldn’t imagine how awful this whole thing must’ve been for him. He sacrificed being with you and the way others looked at him. Even when he gave you the supposed reason he’d broken up with you, he still protected her. You wanted to be so angry at him for doing that, but it was no fairer than the order he’d received from your mom.

Ruben had never changed. He remained the person you knew that put the wellbeing of those he loved often above his own, the person who shielded them from pain - even if it meant inflicting some and becoming the one they hated. It was all so unfair to him and you refused to spend a second longer without letting him know that.

“Can I come over?” You asked after he picked up on the first ring.

“Yeah.” His voice was rough.

As soon as you crossed his threshold, you launched yourself at him and hugged him tight. He was stunned at first, but your embrace was returned with the same magnitude. You buried your face deep into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” Your tone was muted.

“Don’t apologize.” Ruben stroked your hair. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I-“

You shushed him. His response was expected, you knew that he was going to tell you not to apologize and that it wasn’t your fault but his. There was nothing he could’ve done about the situation, you didn’t blame him.

“I’m saying that because you deserve to hear it.” You looked into his eyes. “No one should have to be put through that and carry the burden of it for so long.”

Ruben didn’t fight you on that because you both know that you were right. He placed his chin on top of your head again and held you for a moment longer before he pulled you to sit down with him.

“So, you know everything?” His index finger drew circles on your knee.

You nodded, “I do.”

“Is there anything else you want to ask me?” Ruben left the door open.

A lot had actually crossed your mind while you were left reeling from the whole ordeal. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the answers to the things you needed to hear most. There was one thing though.

“What changed?” You bit your lip. “Why did you try to get me back now and not before then?”

The message he’d sent you asking if your number was still the same could’ve came a year, or two, maybe even three ago. You were curious as to what made him want to throw caution to the wind after all this time.

“I tried holding on to the promise I’d made…even when it felt like I was suffocating. It was easy, sometimes, because I justified going along with it through telling myself that I’d chosen the lesser of two evils.” Ruben expressed. “When I moved here, the distance made things somewhat bearable - knowing that there was no chance I’d run into you.”

“Until you nearly did.” A grin flashed across your face as you recalled that rainy evening.

“It all came flooding back to me then.” He smiled too. “Everything that you were to me, everything that you were supposed to be. I felt like I would go mad if I kept ignoring what you meant and still mean to me. I had to at least try.”

If this was a movie, you’d think fate was behind your reunion. Even in reality that was kind of hard to deny. What were the chances that he would see you randomly on the street, or be a part of your first project in some way? Whatever was in charge pulling the strings behind the scenes was more determined than either of you to bring you both here today.

“I’ve got to say, that was a massive gamble on your part.” You cupped his cheek.

Timing was everything. When you thought about it, had he reached out to you via message prior to you seeing him in person, you didn’t think you’d receive it well. The cards had to be played very specifically for you to end up at this moment.

“Not to me. I told you, I loved you then and I never stopped.” Ruben stroked your ear. “I love you, Y/N.”

After everything that you’d been through together, hearing him say those words impacted you on a completely different level. They’d always meant so much, but now they contained it all - the entirety of your shared history. Him choosing you from the very first day you’d met, doing the same even when it meant breaking your heart and again as he fought to get you back.

Your brows met, eyes welling as you told him, “I love you too.”

The way he kissed you struck in a whole new way as well. It was adoration unobstructed and unrestrained. His lips moving over and between yours exhibited just how free he felt with the burden of a long kept secret no longer weighing him down.

Every touch was completed with the utmost undertaking. Ruben’s hand splayed over your thighs and stomach, flattening, digging into your skin. Desperate not to miss a single inch. He removed his shirt from your frame and lied you down.

You willed your heavy eyes to stay focused on him, your fingers disappearing into his thick hair. So beautiful, he kissed your navel. So perfect, his teeth grazed your hip bone. All mine, hips lips closed around the skin of your inner thigh.

What came next left the task of keeping him in your sights impossible. Your hand pressed into the cushion, back arching as you writhed beneath his skillful mouth that claimed your cunt. He held you sturdily, one hand caressing your lower back and the other pressing down on your abdomen.

It didn’t take much for you to come undone for him. He knew every direction and angle to take with his tongue to leave you drifting away. Like the anchor he was, Ruben didn’t let you float off too far.

His body molded to yours, heat becoming your own. You always found yourself wanting him endlessly, but that compulsion was stronger than ever. Still, you forced that hunger to subside for as long as possible to indulge in all that he was.

You traced his brow with your thumb and let your finger trail down until it met his lips. The curve of them were reverently memorized to the point where you were certain that you could recreate their image in clay with uncanny accuracy.

Ruben slid a hand between your legs to make your mouth fall open with a moan. It was what he wanted, to have your tongue accessible to his. They moved in tandem that built with intensity the more you shook and whined under his digits circling your clit.

His forehead pressed to yours as he looked down the narrow gap between your bodies. You followed suit and swallowed deeply at the sight. He had you glistening, swollen with readiness while his cock twitched achingly.

When he moved to touch it, your wrist caught him. Let me, you breathed. Your fingers wrapped around his thick, firm shaft and tugged upwards. His drawn out groan floated into your mouth, a slight hiss sucking it back as you swiped your thumb over the opening in his sensitive tip.

You were losing against yourself again. Just as you could no longer force your eyes to remain open, you could no longer hold back the need to have him inside you. Your hips angled, legs spreading even wider for his body to rest flush against yours.

As soon as you’d lined him up with your entrance, his hips pressed forward. You curled one arm around his shoulder and cupped the back of his head with the next. No adjustment was necessary, you ground into him eagerly . A call that was instantly answered.

Ruben thrusted into you deep, testing his limits. When he found that there was none - your legs locking around his waist, eyes rolling back and neck baring itself to him - he withdrew until almost completely out of you and did it again. And again. And again.

Don’t stop.

You like that?

Yes, please, more…

He gave it to you just as you wished. Long, hard, unrelenting strokes that breached your cervix. Tides were moving in quickly, threatening to whisk you away for a blinding moment. You were determined to take as much as you could before they could do so.

Your legs dropped, feet digging into the sofa. You used them for momentum to bring your hips to meet his drives, cunt consuming his cock in its entirety. The point you craved to reached had finally been met - where the pleasure was so overbearing that your mind began playing tricks on you to make you believe it was a fantasy.

But you knew it was real. Even as you succumbed to the waves that dragged you under, you knew you hadn’t imagined it. The cries that ripped their way from your throat and his praises told you so. Ruben’s face buried deep into your neck and his cock twitching as it filled you let you know that you’d climbed that impossible mountain.

In the stillness that followed, you begged him to stay. Your foot ran down the back of his muscled calf and your hands massaged his back while he caged you in his strong arms. For once, there were no afterthoughts.

You didn’t catch your mind wandering off to unknowns and what ifs. A sense of peace shrouded you just like his body was. Whatever tomorrow or the distant future brought no longer filled you with worry or fear. No matter what came along, you were at ease.

All you focused on was what was going on right now. Ruben’s chest rising and falling at a steady pace that matched your own, his hips still joined to yours, the feeling of his lips forming a smile against your cheek.

That was everything you needed.

#ruben dias #ruben dias fic #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x you #being

71 notes · View notes

yoomiwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Sugar Rush¹⁰

Summary: Reader has been working directly under the Admirals, Kuzan, Kizaru and Akainu for years. Little by little, the dynamic changes and friendship (and more) develops. These are all small stories that build on each other. The work is from 2017, not revised and the prologue of Aromatic Rush & Salty Rush.

Note: I was sick, or well, I am sick, so I forgot to post em 3 chapters yesterday.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over my room as I lay sprawled out on the bed, feeling more like a lump than a person. My hair was a mess, and my bandages peeked out from under the sleeves of my old, oversized shirt, a clear indicator that I was far from my best. Despite the comfort of my cozy space, the remnants of my vacation disaster weighed heavily on me.

I sighed, staring up at the ceiling, my thoughts swirling in a haze of fatigue and disappointment. It was hard to shake the feeling that I had let everyone down, especially my brother, who was still tangled in the mess I had tried to escape. Just as I was about to sink deeper into my melancholy, a soft knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts.

“(F/N)~!” came the cheerful voice of Kizaru, unmistakably bright even through the wood. “Are you in there?”

I winced, debating whether to ignore him or fess up to my current state. But even as I considered shutting him out, I could already hear the doorknob turning.

With a soft click, the door swung open, and Kizaru stepped inside, his usual carefree demeanor shining through. His gaze landed on me, and for a moment, he paused, taking in the sight of my disheveled appearance.

“Wow, you really do look like you’ve been through hell,” he remarked, his voice teasing but his eyes held a flicker of concern. “Did I interrupt a beauty sleep session?”

“More like a disaster nap,” I replied, attempting a smile but feeling it falter. “What are you doing here, Kizaru? I’m not really in the mood.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” He dismissed my protests with a wave of his hand. “I came to check on you. And since I heard you were a little under the weather, I thought I’d whip up something special.”

“Whip up what? I can barely look at food right now,” I muttered, sinking deeper into my pillows.

He crossed the room effortlessly, his presence filling the space with a strange sense of warmth. “Hnnnn, well, I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m a master in the kitchen, you know. Just wait and see.”

I couldn’t help but let out a half-hearted laugh as he turned toward my tiny kitchen, already rummaging through cabinets and drawers like he owned the place. It was absurd to think of him as a chef, but there was something oddly comforting about his energy.

“Do you even know where anything is?” I asked, still half-hidden beneath the covers.

“Of course, I do,” he replied, flashing a smirk over his shoulder. “Besides, I might not be a gourmet cook, but I make a mean grilled cheese.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips despite my best efforts. “You mean you’ve perfected the art of toasting bread with cheese? How impressive.”

“Hey, it’s a classic.” He shot back playfully, moving about the kitchen with the grace of a dancer. “And everyone needs comfort food when they’re feeling down.”

I watched him with a mix of disbelief and amusement as he began pulling out ingredients. The scene felt almost surreal—here was one of the most powerful admirals, known for his prowess in battle, happily buzzing around my tiny kitchen like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Are you sure you know how to work that stove?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. “I wouldn’t want you to set my place on fire.”

Kizaru chuckled, a warm, soothing sound that wrapped around me like a soft blanket. “You wound me! I may have a reputation for being a bit fiery in battle, but I’m not a complete disaster. Now, sit tight. I’ll have this ready in no time.”

I finally relented, pushing myself upright against the headboard, feeling a little more alive as I watched him move. He worked quickly, his movements fluid and confident. It felt nice to see someone so carefree, even in a situation like this.

As he expertly melted cheese on the bread, the inviting aroma wafted through the air, cutting through the fog of my earlier despair. I hadn’t realized how much I missed having someone around, how nice it felt to have company—even if it was just Kizaru acting like he owned the kitchen.

Moments later, he turned back to me with two perfectly toasted sandwiches, looking immensely proud of his culinary creation. “Voilà! Grilled cheese, just like your mom used to make—if your mom was a laid-back admiral with a penchant for lazing about.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound brightening the room. “You know, I think you’ve just elevated my expectations for a ‘laid-back admiral.’”

He settled down on the edge of my bed, handing me one of the sandwiches with a flourish. “And here I thought I was just your average friend.”

“Average? Please,” I shot back playfully, taking a bite. The warm, gooey cheese melted in my mouth, and I felt the tension in my shoulders begin to dissipate. “This is surprisingly good.”

“See? I told you I had skills,” he said, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

I rolled my eyes, though warmth spread through my chest at his confidence. The atmosphere shifted slightly as we both settled into a comfortable silence, eating and just being present with one another.

“Thanks for coming over,” I said quietly after a moment, genuinely grateful. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

He shrugged, still casual, but his expression softened. “That’s what friends are for, right? Besides, you looked like you needed someone to pull you out of that funk. And if I can do that by cooking grilled cheese, then it’s a win-win.”

I smiled, feeling a sense of ease that I hadn’t anticipated. Having him here felt right, like a piece of home that I had been missing. The stress of the past few days began to melt away, and I finally felt a flicker of light in the dark haze that had surrounded me.

With Kizaru beside me, laughter and warmth gradually filled the room, making it feel like a sanctuary against the chaos of the world outside. In that moment, I realized that maybe I wasn’t just back in my apartment—I was back home.

#one piece x reader #akainu sakazuki #aokiji kuzan #one piece #borsalino kizaru

20 notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 1 year ago

Note

i think joel deserves a picture of someone he really loves. like maybe ellie finds a polaroid camera or something and begs maria to take a pic of her and tommy to give to joel

Nonnie, thank you for sending this in ♡ I absolutely agree that Joel deserves a picture of someone he really loves!

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Photograph

Summary: Ellie gifts Joel a present worth more than a million words.

word count: 1.2k

pairing | Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Tommy Miller

Warnings: some angst, allusions to child loss, holiday blues, domestic fluff, Christmas traditions, Joel is just a big ole softy, Ellie wants to make sure Joel feels loved this holiday season, post!outbreak Joel, Jackson!era Joel, peepaw! Joel, no reader in this one, +18 minors dni!

Joel Miller feels indifferent around this time of the year. The season of giving, joy, Yule-tide Carols, the whole shabam wrapped up in a pretty velvet red bow; Christmas time. Her favorite time of the year. A sore spot on his tender felt heartstrings. Like a scab that never quite was given the opportunity to properly heal. Picked at by grime stained nails tearing at the flesh till it bleeds once more. Tissue scarred. An ugly reminder that she was never coming home. She was thousands of miles away, buried beneath the earth.

This time of the year makes him feel like Scrooge, or like the Grinch. Except, he doesn’t want to steal Christmas, and his heart's too big for his ribcage to carry.

The cold doesn’t bother him, not really anyway. He thinks freshly fallen snow along twisting tree branches is beautiful. He loves the aroma of fresh pine needles, oozing tree sap, mulled wine. A simmer pot bubbling on Maria’s stove reminds him of a simpler time.

He loves hot cocoa, the rich kind that tastes like a warm hug doused in sugar. He loves the twinkling lights adorned on the evergreens in Jackson, and the way that the eyes of innocence twinkle beneath them. He sees her eyes in the golden flickering lights too.

His favorite Christmas movie is National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. A family classic, one that never fails to make him chuckle. With a mug of spiked hot cocoa in hand, and Tommy standing beside him, he leans over, “I think this year I want to get a Christmas tree. I—want to make the season special for Ellie. Will you help me, Tommy?”

He rasps in a half whisper. Clark Griswold had just cut down a tree to replace the one that uncle Lewis had accidentally burned down with his cigar. Laughter echoed through the expanse of the room when the unsuspecting squirrel leapt from the tree.

“Course I can, Joel. We’ll cut one down tomorrow, okay? The finest one that we can find. Ellie will love it.” He nodded with a smile tugging on his lips. He brought his arm around Joel’s shoulders and gave them a firm squeeze. He knew his brother was trying.

And so the following morning, before patrol would head out, he and Tommy set out on horseback to find the perfect tree. It didn’t take the brothers an awfully long time to locate one. It would fit nicely in Joel’s living room. They sawed it down together, working side by side before tying it to the horns of their saddles to drag it back to town.

In the evening hours, Ellie returned home to a sight most surprising and pleasant. Joel in the living room, a strand of twinkle lights wrapped around his forearm. He’s maneuvering himself around the evergreen. Moving by long since dormant muscle memory.

“Joel? What’re you doin?’” Ellie asks from the mouth of their shared living space. Her cheeks have already begun to ache from how hard she was smiling. She never thought she’d witness the day that Joel would give into the holiday times.

“Wrappin’ the tree with lights. What’s it look like I’m doin’, baby girl?” He asks with a grin. His dimples make a rare occurrence that Ellie treasures every moment of its presence.

“No shit, old man.” She giggles. “Need some help?”

“Would love some, kiddo. Before your old man gets himself all tangled up here.”

They don’t have many ornaments to hang outside of some that Maria and Tommy lent them, and wooden animals Joel carved himself. Joel was a firm believer in quality over quantity. When it’s time to place the star on the very top of the tree, Joel offers Ellie his shoulders. She declines out purely from the fear of hurting his old man back.

He doesn’t argue when she returns with a step ladder. He’s there at her side, of course, making sure the ladder is steady as she climbs up the steps. He cherishes these moments too.

When the star was placed perfectly in the center. Father and daughter step back to admire their work with their heads resting against one another’s. He was reminded just how much he loved a decorated Christmas tree.

Time ceases to exist when Joel spends it with his baby girl. They bake cookies, string up garland and hum Christmas songs of the past, side by side.

It's Christmas Eve, and Ellie is frustrated with herself. She doesn’t want to let Joel down this Christmas. She wants to give him something special, because he deserves it. After everything he has done for her, he deserves the world even when it failed him. No amount of presents could possibly explain the love she felt for her father, but she knew that he held sentiments dear to his heart, and it didn’t take much to convince Tommy to help her out either.

A photograph, after all, was worth a million words.

On Christmas morning, Joel slept in. Something that he usually didn’t grant himself the pleasure of indulging in. Even in domesticity, he struggled. The house was still and quiet as he rose from his slumber. Freshly fallen snow greeted him from the frosted window panes. Children outside, throwing snowballs, making snow Angels while the adults chattered about life, and how precious these moments were.

He stuffed his chilled bare feet in a worn pair of slippers that had seen far better days. He let out a yawn, a quick scratch to his covered stomach followed by a deep stretch. A subconscious reach to his left for his gun; forced habit that he couldn’t quite break.

He dragged his feet across the creaking floorboards as he descended down the stairs. He peeked around the corner in search of Ellie’s presence, but she must have already gone out.

In the kitchen he stumbled upon a steaming mug of coffee and a single photograph. His brows knitted together. Fingers traced across the seams of the film before it was gingerly picked up. He studied the image with a softened look, eyes turning glassy when he flipped the photograph over.

Scribbled in red ink that was unmistakably Ellie’s penmanship,

Joel, I wanted to get you something special this year because you deserve it, even though I know you believe that you don’t. Now you get to carry Tommy and I with you everywhere you go. (Or you can pin us on the fridge) Merry Christmas, Dad. I love you so much.

-Ellie

“Oh.” He whispered, brushing away a few tears that slipped past down his cheeks with his thumb.

The front door squeaked open before shutting softly. Ellie kicked off a bit of snow on her boots before she made her way into the kitchen. Her cheeks were rosy from the nipping cold air as Joel’s warm brown eyes met hers across the expanse of the counter top.

“Baby girl..” he started, unable to get his emotions conveyed the way he wanted.

“Those better be happy tears, old man. Y’know how many times we had to take that photo? Tommy kept blinking every time the damn camera flashed.” She laughed.

Joel laughed through his tears as he set the photograph down. He padded around the side of the counter before his strong arms wrapped around his baby girl, hugging her tight. His fingers gently stroked her hair, holding her close. “The happiest tears this old man can possibly weep. I love you so much, baby girl.” He sniffled.

Ellie’s own tears couldn’t be held at bay any longer. She threw her arms around his neck hugging him close with her cheek buried against the crook of his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”

“Merry Christmas, baby girl.” He murmured with a warmth spreading throughout his heart.

follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications!

Banners made by the lovely @saradika

52 notes · View notes

justsomeclintasha · 1 year ago

Text

His arm wraps around her as she curls next to him on the couch, pulling her just a tiny bit closer.

“You’re a blanket hog,” Clint mumbles, kissing the top of her head with a smile. Still, as he says it, he’s already shifting more fabric over to her lap.

“You complaining?”

“Nah. I love it.”

“What are we watching?”

“Lava Spiders.”

“A classic.”

The opening scene plays, but her mind is already drifting. Calloused fingers rub circles in her shoulder, as if he’s not even aware he’s doing it. Could it really be so simple?

No.

Everyone wants something.

They haven’t been together very long, but she’s seen the way he looks at her. She’s caught his eyes wandering.

She knows what he wants.

And she can give it.

Slowly, she leans up to kiss his cheek, then his jaw. A sigh leaves his lips as she works lower to his neck.

“Nat?”

His lips capture hers as he tangles a hand in her hair, and she slings a leg over his lap to straddle him. This time he groans as her tongue slides into his mouth.

She knows what he wants.

And she can be good at this.

He’s too delicate. Too careful not to pull her hair, hands cautiously staying above her clothes even as she grinds down against him.

It bothers her.

She knows what he wants.

Hell, she can feel it.

So why doesn’t he take it?

Breathless, he draws back.

“Hey, slow down, Tasha.”

She grabs his hand, pressing it against her breast, trying to ignore the way her fingers tremble. Why is she shaking?

“Nat, stop.”

He pulls his hand away and takes a deep breath. She doesn’t do the same. Her chest is too tight and her stomach is ice.

It’s just sex.

It’s just sex

She’s done this a hundred times.

“Breathe,” he says gently. “Come on. In. Out.”

She tries to move off his lap, but he stops her with a hand on each shoulder, tilting his head down to meet her eyes. She squeezes them shut. “In. Out.”

After a few rounds, she feels steady enough. This time he does let her move. Her cheeks are on fire. She moves to the far end of the couch, leaving a space between them, and he sits to face her.

“I’m fine. I’m ready.”

“You’re not. But it’s okay, neither am I. This isn’t a rush.”

“You don’t want me.”

“Of course I want you. But I want you for more than sex. I want to wake up with you in the morning, freezing cold because you stole all the blankets. I want to smell your shampoo after you shower. I want to make breakfast with you.”

“You burn the toast,” she murmurs, a hint of a smile ghosting her lips.

“I want to eat burnt toast with you. I want to take Lucky on walks and hold your hand. I want to go to the bookstore with you and watch how your eyes light up, and get coffee after, I want to fall asleep with you every night.”

She swallows, a lump in her throat. Slowly he reaches over to brush a thumb across her cheek, and she’s as surprised as he is to find tears there.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“There are so many things to love about you,” he whispers back, moving closer. His lips press lightly against her forehead. “And I’m going to show you every single one, even if it takes the rest of my life.”

#clintasha #clint barton x natasha romanoff #clintasha fanfic #this wasn’t where I expected it to go so I hope it makes sense

67 notes · View notes

tenebraevesper · 2 years ago

Text

Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer, Issue #59: Urban Warfare (Part 3)

Finally, it’s here! You guys have no idea how much I had been looking forward to this Issue, and for a good reason, but let’s first admire the art by Nathalie Haines, which was actually drawn like a classical painting. It’s magnificent!

*clasps hands*

Anyways, Urban Warfare (Part 3); what is there to say about it? Holy Hell, what isn’t there to say about it? Honestly, I had been losing my mind the moment I read the summary for it, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. But, before I start, a little recap since it has been a while.

Sonic and the Diamond Cutters (Tangle, Whisper and Lanolin) arrived at Eggperial City to figure out what is going on, and have found out that the city is expanding by itself. As they plan their next move, the Diamond Cutters end up in a different dimension due to one of Eggman’s portals featured in The Test Run Arc, while Sonic calls for reinforcements. Tails, Amy, Blaze and Silver show up and as they progress through the city, they run into Team Dark destroying Badniks left and right.

So, I’m not even one page into the story and I’m already picking up Sonadow energy from this moment. Trust me, I had a field day with this one.

Sonic is genuinely shocked to see Shadow... and only Shadow. I can’t blame him though, considering how their last encounter went.

Yeah, I’m not sure how many of you remember, but Shadow’s last appearance was in The Chao Races and Badnik Bases Arc, where he made some rather questionable decisions, but not as bad as what happened during The Crisis City Arc (aka the Zombot Fiasco), based on how SEGA wanted him to be written in the story. Fortunately, regarding the writing, we had actually gotten some good news in the weeks leading up to Team Dark’s, and especially Shadow’s, reintroduction to the comics.

To keep it short, all that talk about Shadow having a bunch of locks and chains placed on him to keep him in line with their vision... well, they started to break. From what I understood, SEGA gave more workable guidelines for him that allow for more liberties with writing his character - or in other words, Vegeta!Shadow is finally gone!!! As a matter of fact, while reading through the story, the improvement in his character was remarkable. Admittedly, it might not be for everyone, but goddamn, I’m loving it!

Not to mention, this is the first time since The Crisis City Arc that we see Team Dark working together once again. Also, Rouge, why are you calling everyone else kids when you’re only 18? (And yeah, I know SEGA removed the ages for all the characters, but let’s be honest, who pays attention to that?).

Sonic quips how he’s flattered that they’re here to rescue him, but they’re late to the party and... Silver, what the hell are you doing with Blaze?

*laughs* Even Tails and Amy have noticed that Silver is holding Blaze upside down, while he didn’t register any of it. I suppose Silver is too focused on Team Dark’s reappearance to realize what he’s doing.

Shadow just leaps off the scrapped Badniks, replying to Sonic how he has no idea what he’s talking about, nor does he care. Sonic, on the other hand, looks a little disappointed with that answer. I suppose he had been hoping for some banter.

Rouge then quickly brings him up to speed, explaining how she called in “her boys” (I see this as another win for everyone who say Team Dark are friends!) to see what they could do about Eggperial City - aka destroy everything in their path, foil Eggman’s plans and maybe steal some kind of treasure.

Sonic figures that makes sense, but I’m still convinced he’s disappointed they (or rather Shadow) weren’t here to help him out.

Cue Amy shoving Sonic away to talk to Rouge. I saw people saying how she’s just being overprotective of her crush, but I was questioning where Amy’s line of sight is. Amy notes how this is awfully altruistic of Rouge, but as I said above, she’s in because she wants to raid Eggman’s private vaults for a handsome reward.

Tails and Silver are hyped up to work with them to destroy the city though.

Omega notes how the conversation is irrelevant to their mission, and Rouge notes how Team Sonic would just slow Team Dark down and they’d be going off on their own, with Omega also promising to not hit anyone in the crossfire. Honestly, I think this is the nicest thing Omega could tell them.

Meanwhile, Sonic looks so done with everything. We don’t get annoyed Sonic often, so it’s neat to see him like that, and it makes sense, considering how in a (I assume) very short time-span (depending on when Scrapnik Island takes place), he had discovered Eggperial City and was chased by Metal Sonic while keeping Tails, Kit and Belle safe and having his leg injured, fought Surge at least three times, discovered what Starline had done to them, got separated from the Diamond Cutters and is now trying to foil another of Eggman’s plans while being on his territory and having to deal with Badniks.

That, and Rouge said they were slowing Team Dark down.

Never tell Sonic he’s slowing you down. Never.

Oh, and as the cherry on top, Eggman decides to make an announcement. But instead of talking about how he’s gonna blow up the moon, he decides to explain to everyone how the Eggperial City works. It is a self-replicating and self-repairing metropolis. Anything they destroy, dozens more will rise to take its place. Eggman also figures that this would be a nice time to rise the stakes a little, so he calls in for a little surprise.

IT’S THE SHADOW ANDROIDS!!!

To note, we haven’t seen these guys since Whisper’s backstory way back in the Tangle and Whisper Miniseries and before that, we haven’t seen them since Sonic Heroes and Shadow the Hedgehog.

Going by Shadow’s reaction, he’s clearly shocked to see them again, and Eggman’s obviously going to use the Shadow Androids to their fullest potential.

Hell, Eggman has already the popcorn ready, all to happy to watch the carnage unfold. He calls it a stroke of genius in regards of building robots that mimic Shadow’s skills and holding onto them for the right moment (and that’s not even accounting for the mindscrew Shadow had to deal with when he encountered one for the first time).

Metal Sonic, though, is not happy about the Shadow Androids being dispatched. I’m certain that he wants to be the one on the battlefield.

While this is happening, the Diamond Cutters have infiltrated the control room, Lanolin and Whisper sneaking in, while Tangle just strolls inside like she owns the place, much to Lanolin’s chagrin, and points out how no one’s gonna spot them as she places her hand through Metal’s head. Lanolin just sighs, figuring this should make checking the room out easier, while Whisper stares in the screen in pure shock, realizing that the past is about to repeat itself.

She breaks down, and honestly, I really love the backgrounds in this page. We can see the darkness surrounding Whisper as she tells them how everyone’s going to die. However, the moment Tangle reaches for her and comforts her, the darkness slowly fades away, replaced by a ray of light. Tangle hugs Whisper, promising her how things will be fine, and even Lanolin joins in on comforting Whisper. While these three are still learning, they do make a great team.

Speaking of the Shadow Androids, we see Team Sonic fighting them, everyone being clearly in shock to what they are, with Tails being unable to get clear readings about them as they’re too fast. Even Blaze’s fire is not enough to keep them back and they’re strong enough to deal with Amy’s hammer.

Now, I’ll stop here to put a reminder. On the heroes side, no one but Shadow, Rouge, Omega, Whisper and Tangle here knows about the Shadow Androids. Whisper’s encounter with them is obvious, and Tangle saw footage of that, while Shadow, Rouge and Omega ran into them in Sonic Heroes, and Shadow had another (dubiously canonical) encounter with them in Shadow the Hedgehog.

Realizing just how dire the situation is, Sonic calls Silver for help so they can escape. Silver, being the awesome psychic he is, lifts the ground into a ramp and with Blaze frying the Shadow Androids that are after them, Sonic grabs everyone to get away from the robots in pursuit (also, nice Sonamy moment with that little blush).

Team Sonic finds Team Dark after the groups have been briefly separated, with Blaze grabbing Sonic and Amy’s hands and rushing over to help Team Dark. Yeah, there is an error in the panels, as both show Blaze grabbing hands with rings around them, suggesting she was grabbing only Amy’s hand. I suppose the artist forgot to erase the ring to make it clear she was also grabbing Sonic.

Back with Team Dark, Shadow assesses how Eggman’s trying to overwhelm them with sheer numbers and how there’s no strategy to their movements, meaning they can be easily manipulated. He figures that, once they move to a better position, they can take them out.

Cue Blaze throwing Sonic and Amy (another error, both are blue instead of being blue and pink) with Sonic spin-dashing and Amy smashing the Shadow Androids that were about to attack Shadow.

With a nose flick, Sonic is right back to quipping, asking Shadow whether he had some cousins he never told them about, while Shadow responds with “Please. These cheap copies don’t deserve to wear my place.”

Have I told you how much I love these two together? (≧◡≦)

As the battle continues, Shadow explains how the Shadow Androids are cheap copies created by Eggman, and how he’ll pay dearly for this insult. Unfortunately, Omega loses his footing and is being brought down by the Shadow Androids, but he keeps on fighting. Realizing how things are getting dire, Rouge asks Shadow to use his own powers against the Shadow Androids, but he responds how it is impossible without a Chaos Emerald (makes me wonder what happened to the Chaos Emerald Rouge stole in the Sonic Annual).

Tails rushes in, telling Shadow how the crystals are also generating Chaos Energy, with Shadow agreeing, but notes how the energy is distorted.

“Fake Emeralds... I hate to stoop to using such a pale substitute, but... it will do.”

Okay, can I say that this panel is absolutely amazing, and what’s about to happen is jaw-dropping!

I swear, this was my reaction to seeing this page:

Not only is the art absolutely gorgeous, but it finally shows Shadow as a pure badass who has the skills to support his title of The Ultimate Lifeform! Honestly, words cannot describe how much I love this! Bow your heads low, all hail Shadow!

And to add a cherry to the top of this moment of awesomeness:

Absolutely badass! It’s really great to see Shadow let loose from time to time. Hell, even Team Sonic is amazed!

Tails, Amy and Silver are starstruck, Rouge is proud of her boy, Blaze is... stunned, to say the least (I suppose she never saw what Shadow was truly capable of), while Sonic figures he should too give it a try.

And yeah, I saw the Dark Sonic jokes floating around. Are you guys forgetting that Sonic was the first to use a Fake Chaos Emerald for Chaos Control back in Sonic Adventure 2? He knows how to handle them.

Shadow then points out that they’re not done yet and goes for another Chaos Control, only for something to happen...

A giant crystal shoots out of the ground, throwing everyone off, while Rouge asks Shadow what’s happening. Shadow is crackling with Chaos Energy, warning her that it’s too much and...

Holy frigging Hell! Shadow unleashes a blast of Chaos Energy, nuking everything surrounding him. Everyone escapes, and when Rouge tries to get back to Shadow and Omega, she’s stopped by the crystals, which are now shooting out from everywhere.

Eggman quickly attempts to regain control of the situation, figuring Shadow would cause trouble. Tangle wonders what happened, with Whisper answering how it was Chaos Overload (how does she know that?). I suppose Shadow used to much of the surrounding Chaos Energy and it was too much for him to handle since the Fake Chaos Emeralds were spread out all over the city. He may be a Master of Chaos Control, but even this would overwhelm someone like him.

Eggman activates the emergency limiter, rebooting the system, noting how it’ll take more to take out his city.

Team Sonic and Rouge observe the destruction Shadow had caused, with Tails figuring it was some runaway feedback loop. Rouge is worried about Shadow and Omega, but Sonic, Silver and Blaze assure her that not only are the two tough, they also know what they’re up against and they can deal with Eggman. Rouge is cheered up, while Sonic looks forward to Shadow’s expression when he saves him.

Yeah, Sonic will never let Shadow live that down.

Back with Eggman, the power has returned, the system got rebooted... and Eggman lost Sonic and co. Lanolin points out how the power surge nearly crippled the entire city, so if they trigger another bigger one, this should destroy it. But in that moment, all three of them become suddenly visible, with Eggman spotting them.

In two magnificent panels, we get an Eggman obscured by shadows, really creeping me out, as he figures they ran into his spatial-displacement trap. He explains how they almost got out when the power dipped, but he has a way of dealing with them, summoning another model of the portal and telling them how this will scatter their atoms into oblivion.

Whisper takes the shot, and honestly, if she still hadn’t been trapped in that other dimension, she would’ve killed Eggman then and there. The blast went right through his chest. Like, this was probably the fourth time she attempted to kill someone in cold blood (first Mimic, followed by another attempt at Eggman’s life, then Surge and now Eggman again).

What’s even more chilling is how calm Eggman is, well aware what his trap had done. It then surrounds Whisper.

Tangle screams for her as Whisper is trapped inside the device, and then spots another one flying for her, only for Lanolin to ram her out of the way and tell her to tell everyone what happened and what to do before getting captured herself.

Tangle is cornered, but she suddenly phases through the window, falling out of the command tower. The story ends on a literal cliffhanger.

Holy Hell, I absolutely loved this Issue! It was beyond awesome for all the reasons I already talked above, but there is one specific thing I wanted to discuss in the ending of this analysis - Shadow’s portrayal.

Honestly, I had absolutely no complaint with how he was written in this Issue. People might not agree with me, but I think Urban Warfare really redeemed him, as rather than being prideful and arrogant, he was more business-like and focused on the mission, pragmatic and patient in explaining to everyone what is going on, as well as having his moments of banter with Sonic.

As for him being taken out of the battle, alongside Omega, I’m actually fine with it, as it’s the manner with how he was put out of commission.

Seriously, compare this:

To this:

It’s not about pride, it’s about saving everyone with his own power, and that’s what I had been missing from IDW!Shadow for so long.

I really hope we’ll see more of this in the future.

Links:

#Previous Issue

#Next Issue

#Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer (Masterlist)

#Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer #idw sonic #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #dr eggman #shadow androids #amy rose #miles tails prower #blaze the cat #silver the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e-123 omega #lanolin the sheep #whisper the wolf #tangle the lemur #metal sonic #orbot and cubot

78 notes · View notes

smhalltheurlsaretaken · 2 years ago

Note

Hey, how about I give you an easy ask to take the bad taste out of your mouth? Do you think the Jedi have their own Language? I mean the Mandalorians have Mando’a, Jewish people have Hebrew and Yiddish, Catholics have Latin, and Muslims Arabic. We know all Force wielders can communicate telepathically bc of Grogu and Nubarron. But do you think there is an ancestral or classical language either written or verbal for the 25,000 years of Jedi?

Ooof that's an old ask 😅 I only vaguely remember what the drama was that time around.

Hehhhhhhhh... I know there’s a Legends-inspired fanon conlang called Dai Bendu but I’m not super into tbh, and those examples you listed are interesting because as far as I can tell they wouldn’t actually apply to the Jedi.

I won't try to give history lessons on languages I'm only superficially familiar with, but as for the one I do know the full history of... Mando’a isn't even the unifying language it's made to be. It’s spoken all of twice in canon afaik (by Sabine in Rebels when asking to land on Krownest, and a dialect by Satine and a dying Death Watch terrorist in TCW), and even ultra traditionalists like the Children of the Watch don’t speak it onscreen among themselves. (Obviously because conlangs are a pain to get right. Not everybody can be LotR Elvish or Jason Momoa's Dothraki.) So it's only a big deal in Legends, really. Which is not to say it's not interesting, but that means I can't compare the way the Jedi Order works in Lucas' canon with the way the Mandos work in Legends.

Now for the irl languages:

Not all Jewish people speak Hebrew, or Yiddish (Yiddish is Ahskenazi, not Sephardic, for one thing) - and that Hebrew is even a living, thriving language again was a huge and conscious effort born out of extreme necessity. It's so unique that I can't compare it to anything.

Most Catholics don't know Latin (and it's a dead language anyway) and though the use of the language in liturgy started because the early churches were living under the Roman Empire and Latin was quickly replacing Greek as a 'universal' language, it carried on as a religious tool specifically to prevent expression and to further class divide. Having all holy or political texts written in a language even the small literate portion of your lower class wouldn't know was a device for control.

There are many, many Arabic dialects and not all Muslims speak them, and just like Latin, and English (and French, and Spanish, etc) the reason why so many people speak it is a tangled mess of religion, commerce, colonialism, convenience, etc.

But yes, those languages have a huge historical/religious/traditional/cultural and spiritual importance to them - but all for very different reasons, as their histories are all pretty unique. Again, I don't know nearly enough to try to say any more about them. But.

The political, religious and cultural incentives to have their own common language wouldn't exist for the Order as far as I can tell.

For one thing, because the Galaxy has its own common language. (I don't know if there's anything in Legends that gives an indication of how long Basic has been around for, but I'm assuming it's at the very least as old the Republic.) Just like the early Church didn't randomly pick Latin and Greek even though all but one of the writers of the New Testament weren't (there's good evidence that at least two of the Gospels were originally written in Aramaic of Hebrew) but used those languages because they were conveniently what everybody else could understand, the Jedi would have had every reason to use Basic as soon as it was available to them and they started to grow into an actual Order. And unlike Catholicism, the Order never grew so much that it took over the government it developed under, so Basic had no reason to become just theirs.

Would they have a language created (or resurrected) piecemeal, like Esperanto, as a way to foster unity and communication? As I said, they had Basic already - just like Esperanto was more or less a failure on account of English and a few other languages already filling the role of universal language.

And as a way to keep their more arcane/dangerous lore from falling into the wrong hands... Well, they have holocrons, and most people don't have the Force. The Order had no real reason to develop a way to keep their writings and teachings safe from outsiders - by the very nature of their connection to the Force, outsiders can't use Jedi lore. You can use holocrons to preserve your history and your culture, in a way that's much more effective than any language you could ever develop.

(Remember, Sith struggle to open Jedi holocrons and vice-versa. It's as perfect of a safeguard as you're ever going to get.)

Plus, the Jedi aren't really that concerned with being a closed group. Rather, their entire job description is opening themselves up to the Galaxy around them. They are originally diplomats, ambassadors. They have more reasons to learn the native languages of the people they help - the people they all come from - rather than to have one of their own.

What's more, in regards to the languages you cited: their cultural importance developed over centuries of shared history. Languages are transmitted through the generations, to your children and grandchildren - that's how accents and dialects come about in the first place. The Jedi are unique in that every single one of them is adopted. And so 'ancestral' just can't have the same meaning for the Order as for, say, an actual ethnic group. They start with a clean slate with every generation, so to speak - or rather, they're constantly flooding their own culture with contributions from all over the Galaxy, constantly mixing rather than being a closed circuit. Just take the iconic Jedi tunics - not only are there plenty of Jedi who don't wear them, but there are plenty of non-Jedi who have a very similar dress style (see the average Tatooine farmboy).

And basically all Jedi have different accents - which suggests that they hold on to their native languages. Even Piell and Aayla definitely don't sound like they're native Basic speakers, Obi-Wan has his own accent, Gungi or Byph don't speak Standard at all... Just like Jedi don't take away names, they don't seem to take away language. I don't think it's culturally Jedi to see being a Jedi as quite its own culture. More like, being a Jedi is a calling, a life commitment and a community, and the cultural aspects are what you bring over from your roots (which are not Jedi) and what you use to reach the people in the Galaxy who need you. Jedi, by design, are extremely multicultural - I just don't see them smoothing that over.

Even the super duper old 'Sacred Jedi texts' from the Sequels aren't just in one language:

Although...

In a sense, the Jedi do have kind of their own language after all, as you mentioned - empathy (telepathy seems to be more of a specific ability some Jedi have, like psychometry), which can't be codified into either words or written symbols, which I really like. It's much more unique than giving them a conlang that echoes to some distant origin of the Order (because as I said, they renew each other with each generation which is very special on its own) or mixes all the languages they bring with them (because, again, the point of those languages is to be focused outward, not inward).

Jedi can do what real people can't: they can speak to each other from the heart with no language actually required, and that's the greatest communication ability of them all!

Interestingly enough, the Sith do seem to have 'classical' languages for their occult rituals:

(Hey kinda like what happened with Latin lmao) But yeah, the Sith use secret languages to remain closed off and keep their lore to themselves, which isn't in the Jedi's nature. That's an interesting parallel.

Obviously this is all my very subjective interpretation. I've got an old post touching on whether or not the Jedi can be considered a 'minority' in SW and I'm gonna say more or less what I said then: they are comparable to plenty of real life groups and cultures (including many that do have their own languages), so if my take doesn't convince you, headcanon away! I couldn't find anything in support of it in the movies or TCW, but there was nothing that directly contradicted the idea either so it's a free for all!

Mostly I stuck to my guns because from a Doylist perspective while absolutely amazing when done right conlangs tend to be a fandom catastrophe. It typically reveals that most people using them have no idea how bilingualism works or how the conlang itself works (if you've read 2000-2010 era LotR fanfiction... you know. You just know) and it becomes absurd to the point of parody. And just look at Mando'a. Not using it is sometimes denounced as ooc despite its near complete absence in canon.

So yeah, tldr: subjectively, I wouldn't really want the Jedi to have one (because fandom), practically, I don't really see how they would have developed one + empathy/the Force kind of counts as its own method of communication, thematically, Jedi culture is much more focused outward rather than inward, but for funsies go crazy.

#ask #jeff22003 #long post #meta #my meta #jedi order #conlang #languages

104 notes · View notes

caltropspress · 8 months ago

Text

RAPS + CRAFTS #21: Andrew Mbaruk

1. Introduce yourself. Past projects? Current projects?

I’m Andrew Mbaruk, a Black poet living in Vancouver, Canada. I make "literary lo-fi rock rap," drawing from my diverse reading of poetry and classic literature for the "literary" aspect; – it’s "lo-fi" due to the imperfect sound quality, "rock" as the music predominantly features electric guitars, and "rap" because, if I had to use just one genre to categorize it, it’d be rap–I’m obviously rapping in the songs.

On one of my songs I describe my style as “assistant-professorial and janitorial”--it’s a blend of literary, academic, and philosophical elements with a touch of real-life experiences, viewed through my postmodern/modernist collage aesthetic.

Some of my recent albums are Why I Am Not a Painter (a 2023 song anthology), Black Squirrel: A Memoir (an autobiographical album through Extraordinary Rap), and Oiseau=textual: the flying rap album (centered around birds). Collaborations include Affect Theory and the Text-to-Speech Grandiloquence with Rhys Langston, Papier-Mache Chalet with Th’ Mole, Ultraviolet Flamingo with Vellum Bristol or Jouquin Fox, and Hip-Hop, With a Twist of Lemon with Mantis the Miasma.

Currently, I’m working on a series of lo-fi rock rap albums, each titled Abolish Canada. Abolish Canada [1] and Abolish Canada [2] are already available on my Bandcamp page.

2. Where do you write? Do you have a routine time you write? Do you discipline yourself, or just let the words come when they will? Do you typically write on a daily basis?

I write whenever I’m awake and in the mood, which is often at home. This could be in the middle of the night or just as frequently in the afternoon. Currently, I find myself in the writing room...surrounded by books... On my desk are three old dictionaries and a book of selected poems by Wallace Stevens, alongside an energy drink can and crumpled papers... Scattered throughout the room are various poetry books, and books on theory and philosophy, from Marx and Hegel to Frank B. Wilderson III and David Marriott... These books are mostly on a couch doubling as a larger desk, and atop an old synthesizer from the 1980s... On the floor stand an electric guitar and amp, alongside pedals and tangled cords at my feet... Two walls are giant windows, one of which is usually open even in winter (I’m often smoking). I’m undisciplined, though I still write almost daily – though there’s the occasional lapse, like these past few days...

3. What’s your medium—pen and paper, laptop, on your phone? Or do you compose a verse in your head and keep it there until it’s time to record?

During 2017-2018, I primarily used pen and paper for my writing. But, since then, I’ve transitioned to typing most of my raps on a computer. Occasionally I’ll compose a verse while walking, relying on my Android. The inconvenience of keeping verses in my head until I can write them down...that’s a problem I face during work shifts – cleaning Vancouver’s streets, e.g....and one song I crafted mentally while washing dishes at a burger bar. Using a recording medium like paper or a word processor is best though – it allows me to carefully consider connections between different parts of a verse, because I have the entire composition visible on a page or on a screen.

4. Do you write in bars, or is it more disorganized than that?

I used to have a more disorganized writing style, especially in the first few years of this rapping project... Initially, I didn't even see my work as a part of rap. It was only when I started collaborating with other rappers and producers that I began to structure my writing in bars.

While there are still moments when I write in a more formless manner, I stick to a more regular form these days, lines that last four beats. Typically, I'll create four lines that rhyme (using slant rhymes) entirely parallel to each other:

(e.g., “abnegating dactylic hexameter his vacation, a trip with dead passengers the Latin pages of literate Sapphic verse as the painting's acrylic red flags ablur”),

followed by another set of four, or maybe a couplet or two

(in this case, “as heroin mixed with the China White terror, his literary dynamite exposing the Pindaric champion; explosions, the thin shards of glass in him”),

and then another quatrain or couplet, or sometimes a set of six or eight rhyming lines, or sometimes more...and so on.

I never thought I'd become so formal or strict in my approach. I've always been inclined towards poetry that adheres to (for example) Charles Olson’s "projective verse", but surprisingly, weirdly, this structured approach is working for me now.

5. How long into writing a verse or a song do you know it’s not working out the way you had in mind? Do you trash the material forever, or do you keep the discarded material to be reworked later?

It’s different with every verse and song. Sometimes I’ll finish the entire thing and throw it out/delete it. Usually some part of the aborted material returns in a new form. I work in a "collage" style and see my rhymes as Deleuzian rhizomes, so I can easily connect my rhymes like Lego... It’s totally acceptable within my project to incorporate disparate fragments – unless the lyrics are focused by a constraint, as on my album about birds (Oiseau=textual: the flying rap album) or the one about the Iran-Contra scandal (The Iran-Contra Project).

6. Have you engaged with any other type of writing, whether presently or in the past? Fiction? Poetry? Playwriting? If so, how has that mode influenced your songwriting?

I’ve written poetry, fiction, a screenplay... The rapping basically grew out of my experiments with print poetry – I started making poems called "phonotexts," recorded poems, in 2014... I made a spoken word album called Phono=textual: a novel in mono... It took about three years for these "phonotexts" to become rap songs.

7. How much editing do you do after initially writing a verse/song? Do you labor over verses, working on them over a long period of time, or do you start and finish a piece in a quick burst?

I try to edit as I write, then I'll record the thing, sometimes using some instrumental that I'm not actually going to use – just to hear it, so I can edit it some more. Then I record the song immediately. It usually takes a few hours or an evening.

Sometimes I work on a song for a few days.

8. Do you write to a beat, or do you adjust and tweak lyrics to fit a beat?

I begin with the words and a rhythm usually... I write lyrics, then I make the drums, then I record the verse or verses, then finally I'll add guitars and synthesizer and whatnot.

9. What dictates the direction of your lyrics? Are you led by an idea or topic you have in mind beforehand? Is it stream-of-consciousness? Is what you come up with determined by the constraint of the rhymes?

I usually begin with one small idea, just a line or a few words, and I grow a verse or verses from the one idea through free association, playing with meaning and rhyme. I’m often propelled by chance, but just as often propelled by a thematic goal, and this can change midway through writing.

10. Do you like to experiment with different forms and rhyme schemes, or do you keep your bars free and flexible?

I’ve sneaked sonnets into my raps, and I’ve invented something called “rhyme chiasmus” (a rhyme scheme where two rhyming sounds are repeated in a chiastic pattern for many bars) but I’m usually freer.

11. What’s a verse you’re particularly proud of, one where you met the vision for what you desire to do with your lyrics?

The song "Electrons," track 01 of Abolish Canada [1]...though it goes on a bit too long I think, the bit right at the beginning is very good maybe. That song, and in fact the entirety of Abolish Canada [1]... That’s where I’ve most closely achieved much of what I intend with my words.

12. Can you pick a favorite bar of yours and describe the genesis of it?

My lines make their meaning through the relation to other lines. So, my favourite passage in my writing – "the human soul stuck in your body / fluent in post-structural ornithology” – is shaped by what surrounds it.

The song is called "Under the Oiseau=text." It’s about reading and about birds. And about reading birds as signs, an ancient practice.

I thought of these words because a bird, a pigeon, rose flapping before me as I walked along Commercial Drive in Vancouver. I decided to make an album about birds in that moment, and began writing "Under the Oiseau=text" as soon as I got home. Here’s the lyric in its context:

sans serif, these words upon my gravestone bearing the withered flower tossed - the Baudelairean inner albatross, the human soul stuck in your body fluent in post-structural ornithology . . . . . .his words draw you a map of the geographer perched upon a branch in the binoculars, this scholar of math as it pertains to flight, the neurographer mapping the brain with light

13. Do you feel strongly one way or another about punch-ins? Will you whittle a bar down in order to account for breath control, or are you comfortable punching-in so you don’t have to sacrifice any words?

I shorten lines and always try to do verses in a single take.

14. What non-hiphop material do you turn to for inspiration? What non-music has influenced your work recently?

Afropessimism, John Ashbery’s poetry, nature, the congressional report on the Iran-Contra scandal, and the letter N. Also, I collect and read dictionaries.

15. Writers are often saddled with self-doubt. Do you struggle to like your own shit, or does it all sound dope to you?

Some of my stuff I dig especially, other stuff I’m okay with, most of the stuff I don’t like no one can hear anywhere. Grand Lunatic I’m not crazy about, Andra Mbalimbali I’m not crazy about, Neuro=textual: a novel of ideas is not my favourite of my albums. From late in 2022 and throughout 2023, that stuff I like – though I’m on the fence about some projects like Black Squirrel and The Iran-Contra Project. The earlier stuff evinces potential realized by Oiseau=textual: the flying rap album and Abolish Canada [1]... That’s how I see things.

16. Who’s a rapper you listen to with such a distinguishable style that you need to resist the urge to imitate them?

Rappers who depend less on rhyme and just say really interesting shit, like AKAI SOLO or my friend Jouquin Fox, I can’t do that. I tried using a little less rhyme on The Iran-Contra Project, my concept album about Iran-Contra, and I’m sure I can’t do that. The constraint of rhyme is essential to my style.

17. Do you have an agenda as an artist? Are there overarching concerns you want to communicate to the listener?

Yes, I am trying to communicate many things to the listener. I am saying nothing specifically, and consequently saying many different things. (Any one of these different things I could write about at length, but it has been recommended to me that I just leave it at “I am saying nothing specifically, and consequently saying many different things” – nice and succinct.)

RAPS + CRAFTS is a series of questions posed to rappers about their craft and process. It is designed to give respect and credit to their engagement with the art of songwriting. The format is inspired, in part, by Rob McLennan’s 12 or 20 interview series.

Photo credit: unknown (hit me up)

4 notes · View notes

philzokman · 1 year ago

Note

also guess who’s travelling and needs fic recs again 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

omgomgogm IM SO GLAD U ASKED :D i haven’t been reading much fanfic due to exams and illness and also bc i got Reallt into classical literature for a while shit is so hype but i have a few :D

purple - skk

pink - sskk

red - death note

1. the irreplaceable things by blowingyourmind

‘Dazai was introduced to two very important figures in his life that night, One being the dog he nearly ran over, and the other being the fiery redheaded veterinarian who coddled said dog’

THIS SHIT IS INSANE !!! INSANE I TELL U!!!!! au where dazai (pm boss) falls in love desperate hatred!!! for vet chuuya and it’s so ☹️☹️ like the main romance is adorable the side plots are fucking insane (there’s a dog ring ???????) (atsushi does stand up comedy for about three paragraphs KFHAKDHD) it’s genuinely a fucking ride. the authors also really good like even when there are the occasional mistakes it’s Very clear what they mean and i definitely wouldn’t say it removes anything from the story at all HIGHLY recommend KFHSJSHD

2. He’s got a dream by blowingyourmind

‘soukoku tangled au’

i…havent read this yet (a very common theme on this list KDHSH) BUT !!! it’s i think going to be the next fic i read :D it’s a tangled au. A TANGLED AU. SOBS. BREAKS DOWN. THEOWS MYSELF OFF A CLIFF !!!!!!! and it’s written by the same author as rec one who i already love sososo much it looks very cool KFHAKDHD

3. yokohama public high school - almost as crazy as their pep rallies by blowingyourmind (SIDE NOTE: i did not realise all of these were by the same person LFMAODJSH WHOOPSIES (ive been very out of the fanfic loop recently </3))

‘The story of how Chemistry teacher Dazai Osamu fell helplessly for coach Nakahara Chuuya, and the student body's many attempts to get them together.’

again i. haven’t actually read this BUT ITS A TEACHER X TEACHER AU. SOBS ONCE MORE. BREAKS DOWN ONCE MORE. THROWS MUSELF OFF A CLIFF ONCE MORE !!!!!!!!! i fucking love teacher x teacher aus they’re so hype oml KFHSJSH same author as the other two which i. didn’t realise. BUT. i mean it’s a good author what can i say LMFAOHDHSSH anywho it looks sick

4. would kira have gay sex? by itiaskia

no description needed KDHAKSH fun fact! this fic was the catalyst for me pursuing an english lit degree. take that in for a moment LFNAKDHDHSH it’s like 200 words long and idk i think most ppl have read it by now but it makes me giggle FJSHJDDH

5. collide by onizenmaru

‘All it takes is one chance meeting and Atsushi's life slowly becomes tangled up in Akutagawa Ryuunosuke's.

‘This has to be some kind of cosmic joke.’

i haven’t read this fic either😔 but it seems good !!!! it’s also on my reading list but it seems really really sick :D i’m pretty sure i’ve read some of the authors other works too but i might be wrong KDHSJSDH within the like two paragraphs of scanning i did i also saw an ‘oh. oh’ moment but idk what it was about LFMAODJSHDH but the writing seems really good from what i’ve seen :D

anywho!! hope u enjoy so sorry the list is predominantly fics i haven’t read + one crack fic that’s like 2 words long LMFAODJDH this is more of a ‘what am i reading now + what am i going to read!’ list rather than recs but i hope u enjoy them anyways :D if u read any please keep me updated omg i love talking about fics AND TALKING TO U :D KFJAKDHDH i’m going to sleep now (i’m not) BUT ENJOY :D

7 notes · View notes

thethistlegirlwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Introducing another OC to the team today!

Detective Akela Carpenter has worked her fair share of supernatural crime. Being gifted with what her Hawaiian grandmother called “One eye in the land of the spirits” (quite literally; she wore a brown contact for years after she moved to LA, trying to pretend she was normal and hide the single shifting sea-green iris) made her an instant recruit to the city’s fae enforcement task force. She'd hated the Codes and what they did to the city's already vulnerable fae, but she’d found a place she felt like she was actually helping them, working drug busts on Damiana smugglers and dealers.

Getting abruptly reassigned after the biggest bust of her career has been a slap in the face. She’s been fighting her way through the ranks for a decade and a half. And now, instead of receiving a commendation for her success, she’s been transferred.

It’s hard not to be bitter about it. To wonder if she’s being shunted off so she can’t point the finger at whoever on her team was skimming evidence. If she had to guess, it’s Archer. His mother is a senator’s sister in law. He has protection. And powerful friends who can make a problem like her go away.

Her new assignment is disconcertingly vague. She’s being assigned liaison to a hunter agency strike team code named “Polaris”. She knows nothing about it other than that.

She’d sort of like to strangle someone in the personnel office. Just because she’s worked fae crime for years does not mean she’s qualified to deal with vampires. People somehow seem to assume the two are similar just because they’re supernatural beings.

She pulls her clunky ancient Crown Vic out of the detectives’ parking line. She can’t quite bring herself to give up the car that belonged to her mentor. Carlos has been gone for eight years, but she still feels like it’s her responsibility to take care of that old beater. After all, he left it to her. Specifically. In his will. She feels like that has to mean something.

Her radio crackles, a re-direct from her original destination, the Chimera agency itself. Apparently ‘her’ strike team was scrambled to deal with a blood harvesting ring, and she’s being asked to help coordinate the arrest since that’s a crime that falls in the grey area between human and vampire justice systems.

When she pulls into the warehouse lot, it looks like pretty much every other arrest she’s ever worked. Minus all the flashing lights and black-and-white cars.

There’s a matte-black van, an older model with a battered left side panel, parked next to a silver classic. She can’t ID it on sight, vehicles have never really been her thing, but it’s definitely a few decades older than the usual commuter car.

A string of cuffed people are standing in a line against the van, being watched by a petite woman with long dark hair that appears to have escaped a ponytail at some point in the scuffle. She turns around when Akela pulls into the lot, the gun in her hand coming up from against her leg to train on the car.

Akela steps out of the car, slams the door hard enough the temperamental latch will actually catch, and holds out her badge. “Detective Akela Carpenter, LAPD.”

The woman holsters her gun and takes Akela’s hand with the slightly less bloody of her own, wincing. It looks like she fell onto shattered glass and caught herself on her hands. “Sierra Aguirre-Stoker.”

She gestures to the others. “Pete Jemison.” A blond man with wire-rimmed glasses and a bruised cheek waves shyly before turning a notebook so the woman next to him, her brown skin mottled with pale scars, her dark hair tangled, can see it. “He and Saanvi Desai are our accountants.”

“Hi, I’m Vi,” The woman says. She waves, then turns back to the paper, pointing to something and talking animatedly to Pete.

A woman steps away from the van and walks toward them, sheathing what appears to be a collapsible bo staff at her back. “This is Wren.” The name is a dead giveaway she’s fae. So are the thorn vines curling over the staff. Her silver-blond braid is also studded with fragments of glass and plaster. There’s a deep gash on her cheek and she’s limping slightly on her left side, as if she’s turned an ankle.

Maybe this is why Akela is here. Someone wants her dealing with a team with a fae on it.

“Sierra?” Someone steps out of the building, then leans against the silver car with an air of familiarity. He’s big, skin pale, almost too pale, and his eyes don’t look human.

“And that’s Shay.”

He’s not fae. But Sierra is being as cagey with his name as she was with Wren’s.

All of them are wearing leather jackets, with varying patches and logos, but they all have the Chimera’s three-headed emblem on the left chest, and a patch with a white four-pointed star, like a compass rose center, with the words “Polaris” below it, on the right shoulder. Well. Almost all.

Shay only has the “Polaris” patch. Not the Chimera.

Maybe he’s some other liaison. LAPD can’t be the only one who wants a finger in the pie of a new hunter strike team. But he doesn’t give her the sense of being FBI or DEA or any other law enforcement. Especially not with how often he’s glancing over at her with vague apprehension.

He does look familiar. But like…wanted poster on the wall familiar.

A second van pulls up, and a short woman steps out, flanked by two burly-looking men, all of them also wearing leather jackets with the Chimera logo.

“Stoker. Barrett.” Sierra and Shay both snap around to look at her. “Want to tell me why you disobeyed a direct order not to engage?”

Barrett?

Shay. Shane Barrett.

Ho-ly shit.

No wonder LAPD wants someone watching out for this team.

Akela slips her badge back into her pocket. She can see what the play is here. If this team succeeds, LAPD can claim they have partial responsibility, putting a rising star like Akela on the job. If it fails, they’re perfectly fine with sending her career down in flames.

So she’s going to make damn well sure that this succeeds.

You can read this story and more from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!

@nade2308 @catwingsathena @whumptober

#whumptober 2023 #no.19 #i'm not as stupid as you think i am #original character #compass #akela carpenter

3 notes · View notes

a-moth-to-the-light · 1 year ago

Text

Songs of the Summer, 2023: #14

[intro & rules]

History of Man by Maisie Peters (June 23, 2023)

fan hum, fall asleep on a book and wake up to a whiteboard that reminds you it’s laundry day again december depression, back to school in jan and maybe it’s good you were left on read until june

Ah yes, the muted-synth breakup ballad—a staple of pop music that I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of. (Hell, I even ended up having a “No One Dies From Love” phase earlier this year, and that one bored me to death on first listen.) I mean, I don’t think “History of Man” is quite at the level of Taylor Swift’s “Clean”, a classic of the subgenre, but I can see myself coming back to "History of Man" nearly as often, mostly because of that chorus. I’ve seen it in the poems and the sands / I’ve pleaded with the powers and their plans / I’ve tried to rewrite it, but I can’t / It’s the history of man.

Amidst the deranged ramblings of the rest of this song (and believe me, that isn’t a criticism—I, too, benefit from a fit of deranged rambling every once in a while), these first lines of the chorus are pillow-soft, delivered with the tenderness that Maisie Peters communicates so well. Both the words & her delivery match the mellow, airy synths of the instrumental in a way that the anxious, bitter verses, scrambling from metaphor to metaphor, just don’t. Maisie Peters can be vicious (and don't you worry, we’ll get to appreciate that later on this list), but this song is just a long breath out, putting down the I’m-fine front for a minute. Despite how much messier, how much less put-together, this song feels compared to the others I love from this album, the complex tangle of emotions here feels thoughtfully written, too. I love that the sadness of "History of Man" is raw and messy and simmering with hatred, but that you can already see the seeds of hope in it, hope for nights when you can sleep again. “I’ve pleaded with the powers and their plans”—yes, you have, you’ve done all you could. And now your work here is over. You can let him be, you can finally close your eyes.

And I guess that’s what I go to this song for, the hope for hope—the promise that the hope is already here; that even within my ugliest mental-health nights, I am capable of feeling peace. So I’ll keep singing that beautiful half-chorus of "History of Man", that placid stanza-before-the-storm, to soundtrack my sunset walks and fill the dark of the kitchen at midnight.

#give me your thoughts on how i should format the poem-things! i want them to be distinct from the other text but also not unreadable so #my fave songs #songs of the summer 2023 #maisie peters

3 notes · View notes

leeahqueen · 1 year ago

Text

The Remaining Dust Trio (CER-03)

CER-03

By the time the Cerberus and friends pushed the car to a place that “looked” like a car repair shop, the sun was already slanting between the distant mountains and rocks.

Under the setting sun, standing outside a shed made of tattered plywood, a more casual and tattered highway plague had the words “Car Repair and Tire Repair Gourmet” crookedly painted in white.

The rags tangled on the shed and plague swayed the “guests” coming and going in the fine wind and sand.

And if the inference is correct, this plague should be a signboard for some kind of unspeakable product.

No.21: Can?

Noctis: Tsk… This can be useful. Little brats, stop reading.

No.21: Hiss….

Noctis: Is this really a place where cars are repaired? I feel like this car is worth more than this shabby shed.

Vera: Dark shop?

Noctis sneered and jumped out of the car seat.

Noctis: How dark is it?

No.21: Captain, it’s getting dark.

No.21 was lying on the roof of the car, hunched over, and stretching.

No.21: Hmm…it smells like engine oil here.

No.21: I don’t like it here.

Vera: Don’t waste time in a place like this.

Vera: Go ask and have the car repaired.

Noctis: Me? Huh? Why?

Noctis: I spend the most time pushing the car along this road, why should I do this kind of thing?

Vera: Don’t you want to know how dark it is?

Vera: The “Omnipotent” Noctis shouldn’t be able to handle such a small thing, right?

Vera mocked Noctis while sitting on the car seat where Noctis had been resting.

Noctis: C’mon, isn’t it just a bed thing? Let’s make an agreement first. If it goes wrong, don’t blame me.

Noctis: Wait, let’s me show you my communication skills.

Noctis shrugged, walked over the old tires, bearings and rubber pipes lying on the ground, and walked towards the dilapidated repair shed.

The bells jingled.

With a crash of metal parts, Noctis entered the house that looked dilapidated from the outside – even though it was also dilapidated inside.

Although the inside of the shed looks cleaner than the outside, the old copper-green glass cabinets and rusty doors and walls everywhere make it feel more comfortable than the outside.

The stronger smell of engine oil was mixed with the sour smell of rotting meat, almost condensing into water droplets, and dripping from the dim light bulb.

And some kind of classical music has been playing throughout the room, which is perverse and inconsistent with the room.

There is a man standing behind the glass counter. The apron on his body is almost the same as the palette in the painter’s hand. If he works hard, he will probably be sent to an art museum as the latest abstract artwork.

Noctis: Boss, fix the car.

The man didn’t seem to notice Noctis walking in. He just smoked quietly and looked at some unspeakable magazine in his hand.

The smoke rings rose to the top of the shed, trying desperately to escape from this terrible place, but in the end, they could only dissipate deep into the rust.

Noctis: Hey! I said I want to repair my car!

Boss: What to eat?

Noctis: Repair the car? Didn’t you hear?

Boss: If you want to repair your car, let’s order food first.

The boss took out a piece of plastic wrap covered with old stains from the glass cabinet and handed it to Noctis.

It was written in beautiful cursive characters—

Authentic seafood stew! Satisfy all your imagination if the sea!

Ham and mashed potato sandwich! A good companion for home and travel!

Heart-warming special steak! Warm your stomach and heart!

Noctis: Is there any seafood here?

Boss: Yes, newly caught.

Noctis: ……

Noctis glanced at the iron hook hanging upside down from the roof on the other side of the shed. On it was a piece of blue-black meat that could no longer be identified as an “animal”.

Probably it’s seafood, ham, and steak.

Boss: Would you like to order this? Three thousand and five.

Noctis: I don’t want to eat, I’m here to repair my car!

Only then did the boss raise his head and look over his glasses at Noctis, who was standing in front of the counter.

Boss: Tsk, construct? No need to order.

Boss: This amount is cash only.

The boss stretched out his hand and tapped the price tag written crookedly on the cardboard behind him—

Noctis: Seventy-two thousand?

Boss: Cost price.

Boss: If you don’t want to repair your car here, there are car repair shops a hundred kilometers north.

The auto repair boss blew out a smoke ring again.

How could Noctis stand such a provocation, but his reason prevented him from punching out the glasses of the auto repair shop owner in front of him.

Neither he, No.21, nor Vera wanted to push the car for another hundred kilometers.

Thinking of this, Noctis deliberately placed his left hand on the glass counter, revealing his thick mechanical arm.

Noctis: Hey boss, do you know about the sky garden? Do you know about the Cerberus?

Boss: Haven’t.

The auto repair boss continued to flip through the magazine in his hand, as if he hadn’t seen Noctis’s robotic arm that could kill him with one punch.

Boss: A sky garden or an underworld garden, a Cerberus, or a headless dog, what does it have to do with me?

Noctis: [Beep]! You—

Boss: There are some troublemakers in the south. Go deal with them.

Noctis: Huh? Who do you think you are? How dare you instruct me like this!?

Boss: Pay it then.

The boss knocked on the cardboard behind him again.

Boss: If you don’t have the money, you must do what you’re told, do you understand?

Boss: Go and get rid of those things that are slowing down my business, and I’ll repair your car.

Noctis: ……. I feel really unhappy.

The sound made between Noctis clenched fists did not seem to be caused by his own annoyance. It seemed like the sound was caused by smashing the half-suspended glasses of the man in front of him.

Boss: It’s okay if you don’t want to go, but for the sake of what kind of underworld garden you are, I’ll give you a discount of one thousand or seventy thousand and give you a seafood stew.

The boss, however, still acted as if he hadn’t heard anything, and continued to look at his magazine in his hand with bold and unrestrained illustrations with relish.

Noctis: [Beep] Yes, you remember it.

Noctis: Cultivate well, you know! You will suffer if you fail to cultivate.

The bells jingled.

Vera: How about it?

Noctis: Do you have money? Cash.

Vera: Who brings cash when going on a mission?

Noctis: Where is 21? Doesn’t she have any money hidden in her sleeve?

No.21: Money? No need for it on No.21…

Vera: Is your head full of soaked dynamite? The Cerberus only has one account, idiot.

Noctis: Oh, I remembered…

Vera: I asked you how the conversation went!

Noctis: The boss who looked like a butcher said, go get him some infected bodies, and he will help us repair the car.

Vera: Well, go ahead. We’re just waiting here.

Noctis: What should I do? Do you have the money? Seventy-two thousand! And you must order some seafood that looks like a piece of shit for three thousand and five!

Vera: Only Cerberus are allowed to set prices for others, right? Noctis?

Vera said mockingly, but Noctis didn’t realize the anger in Vera’s words.

Noctis: I... I negotiated the price!

Vera: So?

Noctis: I negotiated the price down to 71,000 and got a free seafood stew, but I think it’s more cost-effective to go for some exercise, don’t you think?

Vera: … Very good, you should pay for it.

Vera almost crushed the flag gun in her hand.

No.21: Captain, your circulating fluid pressure is going to exceed the critical value.

Noctis: Otherwise… let’s talk to 21 instead.

Noctis: But that person didn’t seem to be afraid of us, nor the sky garden.

No.21: Because Noctis is just stupid and has nothing to be afraid of.

No.21: If No.21 goes there, I can say it’s 70,000.

Noctis: Your little brain is not as big as half a grenade—

In fact, the construct does not need to breathe, but at this moment, Vera’s M.I.N.D controlled her to take a long deep breath and spit it out again.

Vera: Where to go? I want to hit something right now.

Vera: Are you the bastards who want to make an enemy of Cerberus?

Vera: From now on, begin and cooperate, do you understand?

No.21: To cooperate with Noctis… hmph.

Noctis: Hey, I’m not having fun yet!

Vera: …I’d better do it first.

Although before this, the Cerberus would occasionally fight together, but for the three of them, it seemed that they had never fought so happily—

At least that’s how it is for Vera.

Noctis: Don’t we rarely fight together like this?

Vera: Right, after all, I have been cooperating with others on tasks before.

Noctis: Heh… it feels a bit cool.

No.21: Captain, can No.21 take these trophies back?

Vera: Huh? No problem, there’s no one else anyway.

No.21 was holding several parts of the infected body that were bent at quite weird angles. Probably because few people set foot in this uninhabited land, and the parts and models of the infected body are also very old.

Also due to the uninhabited land, the concentration of the Punishing here is relatively low, and the Punishing content in the infected body is far less than that of the enemies in the Punishing disaster area.

Noctis: We still have to fight, don’t you think, captain?

Noctis: Isn’t this much more comfortable? When I’m worried about the sky garden, I can only hit sandbags. It’s better to hit some real enemies.

Vera: You’re right. I’ll ask the Art Association to make me a batch of sandbags just like you did when I get back. It’s definitely more enjoyable to fight.

No.21: I want to try it too.

No.21: Tinpin Noctis becomes sandbags Noctis, sandbags, sandbags…

Vera: It’s a fool.

In this way, in the wasteland with only the Cerberus, the three of them talked and laughed and returned to the car shed.

At this time, the setting sun was almost completely below the horizon. In front of them was a car that had started its engine under the searchlight.

Noctis: Boss! Boss!

Boss: Tsk…

Noctis: Okay, you have something. We have already sorted them out for you, they are just a few trash fish.

Boss: Huh? You… it’s solved?

No.21: Also, the loot.

No.21 loaded the parts in her hands into the trunk, while the auto repair owner instinctively avoided No.21’s sharp claws and the mechanical mechanisms that still had a small amount of Punishing left.

Vera: Any questions?

Boss: Ah…ah. It’s okay, no problem.

Under the dim searchlight, Noctis and No.21 focused their attention on the car that had been repaired and had a lot of “decoration” added to it.

Boss: The car is repaired.

Vera: It’s really good quality and cheap, huh?

Boss: Uh…yeah.

The auto repair boss nervously wiped his hands with a rag that was not much cleaner than his own and smiled awkwardly.

Boss: Then I won’t delay you three. Welcome next time…

Vera: What?

Boss: No, I mean… feel free to skip it next time.

Boss: When it comes to repairing a car, it’s best not to break it, it’s best not to break it.

Read: CER-02 | CER-03 | CER-04

#punishing gray raven #pgr noctis #pgr no21 #pgr vera

6 notes · View notes

senorincognito69 · 2 years ago

Text

Dominanta, First Round (Monthly tale - 55)

(Woman into ¿¿??)*

The dark corners of virtual oceans, placed buried in the tangled net of webpages, but not the ones for discussing crime and atrocity, no. These corners are for those that seek willing pleasure and oddity, and are just far enough from the public to be popular but not known.

If you dwell in such places you almost certainly have been to that forum, the one for Good Garls, and if you lurk amongst that collection of threads for long enough you will sooner rather than later discover that there exists a certain enthusiastic following for one of the wickedest forms that lewd lust can take…

Sports.

Even people that enjoy transformation have enthusiasm for healthy competition.

If you went to the most active thread in the least active section for the forum, a thread full of broken and dead links, the last one will work. You click on it and it automatically opens a video in a blank browser page, a live stream that will be gone as soon as it’s over.

It opens powerfully, strong and loud…!

Dominanta, Tournament of Will!

When the logo fades away a free moving camera gracefully rotates above a ring area, a battle arena, an ample sized octagonal space with padded floors and padded walls. Everything in pristine pure white, with a few sparse black lines, markings and delineations of some kind that are certainly important for the rules. The ring doesn’t seem to have any access or exit doors.

An enthusiastic voice begins to speak, a deep but soft male voice. The man sounds old, sorta… coachy, but still strong, confident of his words, a chubby approachable fella.

Mad J. Earl: Monday, Monday, Monday! Welcome back to Dominanat, ladies, gentlemen and non-binary folks! There’s a packed and heated tournament in front of us, people, but before the main event starts two ladies are gonna settle their differences in the ring with a classical Grudge Match! Dakota, are you as excited as I am for the first fight of the day?

Mad’s open spiel is followed by a giggle. The second commentator has a girly voice, young, zappy and shrill in contrast with her partner, an obvious mean streak clear below her friendly tone. You are pretty sure that the woman known as Dakota has pigtails and you aren’t wrong.

Dakota Trazza: 100% excited, Mad! Horny even, you know I’m libido driven and there’s few things hotter than a Grudge Match! I can’t wait for it to start!

Mad chuckles.

Mad J. Earl: You are as lively as usual, Dakota… but please, if possible, show some restraint and don’t start to finger yourself like you did during the last stream!

Dakota Trazza: I categorically can’t promise that, grandpa! Let's move onto the presentation of our begrudging challengers already! Wearing the red underwear we have bookstore wine mom Vera Sebastos!

While the camera continues its showcase of the arena, in the middle of the screen a display with Vera’s information and statistics appears. On the left side was a big profile picture of Vera’s face, a long faced, long nosed, long necked white woman with thin auburn hair tied up in a ponytail, the background of the screen is full of bookshelves, she’s wearing a fluffy sweater and has a big smile on her face. Vera is clearly hugging someone that has been cropped out of the frame. In the middle of the screen you can read her information:

Vera Sebastos

Age: 36 Occupation: bookstore owner Status: married, one daughter

Height: 184,96 cm Weight and stature: slim Track record: 2 victories, 0 TFs

The last display is on the right side of the screen, a full body shot of Vera, her full body and fully naked. She stands nude and stiff, with a blank expression, the display slowly spins exposing every corner of her dignity. Tall, skinny, long limbed, hefty sized breasts with large areola and thick nipples, a sorta flat ass, an ample pubic bush in her crotch surrounds her wrinkly vagina.

Mad J. Earl: And in the silver underwear the musician Zephery!

The display changes to show the next challenger. Zephery’s profile picture seems to have been taken from the web and looks like an album cover. She’s a young brown skinned woman, wearing a hoodie, a cap and a ton of chains around her neck. She's squatting and looking down with a smug expression, arms crossed over her chest, making the horns gesture with both hands.

Her information:

Zephery (Theresa Douglas)

Age: 23 Occupation: rap singer Status: single, no offspring

Height: 151,02 cm Weight and stature: plump Track record: 3 victories, 3 TFs

In her body display she has a smug smirk as the goods of her naked body are shown to everybody. Her hair is long and black, with a single long dreadlock dyed flashy green and pink hanging from her forehead. Short and thick, with a big rear and hips, her boobs match her ass in size, her dark areolas were large too, but her nipples were inverted, she has a shaved crotch and puffy vagina.

Zephery profile pic and information goes away, her body display remains and Vera’s full exposure comes back to the screen. The displays are enlarged and move so they are next to each other, their nudity set in confrontation.

Dakota Trazza: Rapper, she’s a rapper.

Mad J. Earl: What’s the difference, she makes music doesn’t she?

Dakota Trazza: Well… yeah, eh… To be honest, I’ve never listened to any of her songs, but if she sings as well as she fights they must be pretty good. If I were a betting woman, and I am, I would bet on Zephery tonight.

Mad J. Earl: Zephery certainly has the bulk and impetus in this match up.

Dakota Trazza: Not only that, she has the will of a warrior! Pure fighting fibre! She asked this morning if she could participate in her next tournament match after she wins this grudge match.

Mad J. Earl: That would be against the rules, one match per person per session.

Dakota Trazza: I know, I know, but it’s the intention that counts, she isn’t here for thrills and cash like Vera, she wants to fight and that means Vera will likely end up as a boar in the pigsty today.

Mad J. Earl: Does Zephery plan to go through the back door?

Dakota Trazza: Yup, she wants to turn Vera into both a pig and a male to pair her up with her sow partner.

Mad J. Earl: Hmmm… Maybe a refreshment of the build up to this fight is good for the public. You see, folks, the grudge between these two women is quite personal. Vera Sebastos joined Dominanta, convinced to join by her friend Ginne Ronald, the two owned a bookstore together and wanted some adventure and spice in their lives, as do many of our warrior ladies. They participated as a team in the pairs category and had a good track record, but after an incident in the locker room Ginne challenged Zephery to a tournament match and she lost.

A short audioless video of the locker room is shown on screen. Vera is holding a large naked blonde woman from behind, Zephery is walking away from them, laughing hard while flipping a finger right in front of the blonde woman's face.

The video is followed by Ginne’s info. In her body display she’s shown to have been a rather big voluptuous woman, with generous breasts, belly and ass. Blonde curls on her head and on her crotch, fuzzy eyebrows and a soft smile on her round face.

Ginne Ronald

Age: 39 Occupation: DEFEATED, TFeed Former Status: married, mother of three

Former Status: transformed into a common sow, sent to a breeding farm

Where her profile picture should have been instead of the woman there’s a photo of an enormous black sow. The fat farm beast is lazily lying down, sleeping in the mud, two rows of bloated pink teats contrasting with her black fur.

Mad J. Earl: As you know, if the penetration is performed via the anus the transformation it triggers will be both of species and sex.

Dakota Trazza: Zephery just wants to get the two buddies back together, ain't that cute?

Mad J. Earl: I wouldn’t dismiss Vera so quickly, Dakota, she doesn’t seem like a meek woman and her track record is every bit as good as Zephery.

Dakota Trazza: Mad, please, it was the sow that won her matches, she walked, still human, out of two pairs fights with zero TFeeds in her record. You are too kind, she has no chance.

Mad J. Earl: That remains to be seen, motivation can give her the edge if she keeps her head cool Zephery may be the one transformed into a… *checks notes* Oh, a sea lion? That’s quite unique.

Dakota Trazza: *giggle* Vera said that at the very least as a seal Zephery would be entertaining, she plans to send her to an aquarium. It would be an amazing metamorphosis to witness, quite unique for sure, but I still think Vera is going to be the one oinking.

Mad J. Earl: You don’t declare a winner until the match is over.

Dakota Trazza: We will see soon, but, in the improbable event of Vera’s victory we have a couple of marine biologists aiding our usual arena veterinarian staff…!

The long corridor leading to the challengers entrance to the arena was ample, long and shadowy. At its end, behind the closed door hidden in the padded walls of the ring, Vera and Zephery wait.

Barefoot and wearing only their fighting bikinis.

Vera’s was on the left side of the corridor, her bikini was red, she was tying up her hair into a ponytail Zephery’s was on the right side, her bikini was silver, she had her arms crossed and was tapping the floor with her foot. On the floor there was a line that went down the middle of the corridor, the only thing separating the two women as they waited.

A tense silence only broken by Zephery’s chuckle.

“It’s unbelievable that they don’t allow you to compete more than once per day, I could totally have won a real fight after dealing with you, ehhh…” she shrugged. “Well, thanks for wasting my time, pig, but I’m not missing out on my chance of sending you to the mud.”

Vera didn’t answer, she lowered her arms and presented a serious expression.

Zephery leaned towards her.

“Cat got your tongue piggy? Are you are still upsetty spaghetti I turned your pal into a sow? You shouldn’t, you will soon be together with her again. Didn’t you hear how she squealed while transforming, she clearly enjoyed becoming bacon. When you are a male pig, the new boar in the sty fucking the fattest sow, will the sow still wonder about how much better I was than you at sex or will you at least manage to beat me at pleasuring her fat ass?”

Vera trembled slightly.

“I’m transforming you into a sea lion,” she said calmly, still looking towards the entrance to the arena. “You will end up in an aquarium, I’ll come to visit, with my daughter and Ginne’s kids and they will throw raw fish to you to eat and we will have a wonderful day.”

Zephery laughed heartily, putting both hands over her chest.

“What a touching fantasy! And I suppose I will clap happily while munching the fish?” she clapped. “Okk! Okk! Okk! Come to think of it… have you even told her kids they are the sons of a sow?”

That finally did the trick, with rage across her face Vera confronted Zephery, stepping over the line separating them. Zephery took a step back, with a wide smile on her face, the fight might have started right then and there if it wasn’t for the door to the arena beginning to open.

Bright light illuminated the corridor, Zephery began to move towards it, walking backwards, flipping a finger to Vera, then two, until she entered the arena, spun round and raised her arms to the crowd.

Vera followed her with her fists tightly clenched.

Once both challengers were in the arena the door closed behind them and vanished as if it didn’t exist. The applause and cheers of the audience echoed through hidden speakers.

The referee lady was already in the centre of the arena. A tall woman with an hourglass figure, gigantic tits and a mane of luxurious platinum hair. Her arms crossed behind her back, she was wearing the classic black & white striped referee shirt and a whistle around her neck, which wouldn’t have been at all unusual… if you didn’t consider that the shirt and just the shirt was the only item of clothing she was wearing or that black blindfold covering her eyes that didn’t seem to impair her sight in any way.

“Please,” she asked in an authoritative tone. “Get to your positions, challengers.”

Zephery and Vera both did as they were told and walked to the two circles in the middle of the arena, one to each side of where the referee stood. When they stepped into the circles they changed colour to match the underwear they were wearing.

Red and silver.

The fighters stood in their circles, one facing the other, giving impatient glances and taking last minute stretches.

“I want a clean fight,” continued the referee. “Hair pulling, scratching, kicks, punches… Keep them to a minimum, this is a Dominanta match, the goal here is to dominate, to wrestle and to pleasure your opponent. Understood?”

“Yes,” answered Vera.

Zephery just half tilted her head.

The referee pointed at the rap singer.

“I want an answer, you understand the rules?”

Zephery rolled her eyes.

“Yes, yes I do.”

The referee nodded.

“If I see either of you trying to scratch your opponents eyes or something I will transform the rule breaker myself! In this fight one of you may very likely end up losing their humanity permanently, having to live as the beast chosen by their rivals for the rest of their lives, do you understand that as well?”

Vera and Zephery answer at the same time.

“Yes.”

“Then let the best warrior remain human! Get ready and start when the bell rings.”

After finishing her explanation the referee walked to her corner of the arena.

Those last seconds felt eternal, they stared at each other, Vera frowning, Zephery smiling…

Breath was held.

Then the bell rings.

The chime still echoed in Vera’s ears when Zephery leapt like a predator. She grabbed Vera by the waist and threw her to the floor using the full advantage of her bulk. The public roared with excited enthusiasm through the invisible speakers.

Mad J. Earl: UHHHHHHHHHH!

Dakota Trazza: There it is! That’s the will I was talking about! This is gonna be over very quickly!

“I got you, piggy!” Zephery gloated above Vera.

The wrestling was intense from the very first minute, the bodies of the two women rubbing together as their hands went in search of grappling spots. After hitting the floor Vera reacted as quickly as she could, but Zephery had the advantage and wasn’t going to let it go so easily, not even after the wine mom squeezed her buttocks.

They were locked in place for a few sensual seconds until Vera managed to slide away by putting her feet on Zephery’s belly and pushing her away. When Zephery fell back she was standing, gasping, radiant and had Vera’s red bra in her hand.

Zephery threw the bra to the floor.

The crowd and Dakota cheered.

Mad J. Earl: And the first piece of underwear is off in less than one minute!

Vera looked down at her naked chest and groaned, she began to get up, but Zephery didn’t give her the chance.

“Not so quick!”

With that shout Zephery jumped forward and reached the defenceless wine mom as she was still crawling along. The rap singer landed on Vera, the pair rolled across the floor. Zephery ended up with her back against the floor and Vera’s back against her breasts, but she wasn’t at a disadvantage, she was holding her rival, one arm around her opponent’s neck, both of her legs clasped around her waist.

Vera could barely move.

“Make it easy on yourself,” grunted Zephery. “Don’t get up, you belong down on all fours!”

“Fuck off! IIIIIIAGH!”

Vera tried to push the arm around her neck away, but she couldn’t make it flinch, she shook her whole body like a fish trapped in a net in an attempt to liberate herself, but Zephery remained an immovable object.

Zephery’s free hand reached for Vera’s crotch, Vera felt the pull in her ass.

Looking up Vera saw her red panties dangling from Zephery’s raised fist.

The referee blows her whistle, raising an open palm.

“NAKED!” she shouted moving away from her corner.

An ovation once again bursts from the speakers.

Zephery tossed Vera away and got up. She lifted both arms triumphantly, laughing hard, showing off the trophy panties to the eager crowd beyond the walls of the ring, she took a long sniff of the underwear before discarding it. Behind her the completely nude Vera coughed, she was on her knees, holding her sides with her forehead against the floor.

“Advantage for silver!” declared the referee. “Challengers, go back to your starting positions if you wish to continue!”

Zephery went back to her circle, making little happy hops, exultant and full of energy.

“You can still leave and live in shame as a woman, piggy!” she told Vera.

Dakota Trazza: Mad, now I hate we didn’t bet on this match, because it would have been the easiest win of my life!

“Red,” the referee asked the wine mom. “Do you wish to continue or do you surrender?”

With some effort Vera stood up.

“C-Continue…” she mumbled, dragging her feet back into her circle.

The crowd didn’t cheer for her.

The referee acknowledged her decision, lifted her palm again and moved her whistle closer to her lips.

“At the count of three! One…! Two…! Three!”

Her palm goes down, the whistle is blown.

Just like in the previous round Zephery was the first to act. The rap singer charged forward at full speed, so fast Vera barely had time to put her arms up in front of her face before being tackled by her rival. Using the inertia of the charge Zephery fit two fingers right inside the wine mom’s vagina.

The floor met them again. Vera was pinned down by one of Zephery’s hands that was pressing against her face. She groaned, she moaned, she shook trying to escape as her body heated up. Zephery masturbated her pussy, her two fingers wiggling inside her wet insides, her thumb rubbing her clit, her tongue licking her chest, teeth toying with her hard nipples.

“Lefmeeeggggoooooo!” she cried.

Zephery chuckled, powerful, cruel.

Dominant.

She twisted both her fingers with wicked precision.

“Gaggagagaaaaaaaah!” Vera gurgled without control.

The wine mom kicked the air with impotently trembling legs.

The rap singer licked upwards, following the curve of her neck, then her chin, her fingers so deep inside Vera she was touching her pubes with her knuckles. Zephery grabbed Vera’s face, squeezing her cheeks, forcing the wine mom to look at her.

“You enjoyed it!” she declared gleefully, pulling Vera closer and going even deeper inside her vagina. “You enjoyed seeing me fuck your friend! You enjoyed watching her transform into a big fat sow! You touch yourself every night thinking about how she’s a pig for the rest of her life!”

“NononononononnnhhnnhmmmHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!”

Vera closed her eyes, her back bent, raising her hips as she reached orgasm.

The whistle sounded.

“PLEASURED!” shouted the referee.

Dakota Trazza: She’s done! SHE’S DONE!

Zephery let Vera go, she walked back to her silver circle, sucking her fingers soaked in sex juice. Vera remained on the floor, curled into a foetal pose, one hand firmly on her crotch between her legs, fingering her pulsating coochie.

The referee knelt at Vera's side.

“Red?” she asked. “Red, are you still in the fight?”

Vera fingered herself for a few more seconds before reacting. Whilst biting her lower lip she opened her eyes and nodded.

“I need an answer,” continued the referee.

“Yes, still in…” gasped Vera, getting onto all fours. “I’m still fighting…”

She began to crawl towards her circle.

Zephery chuckled, shrugging and shaking her head.

The referee considered it a moment before nodding. Standing up she pointed at the rap singer.

“Advantage for silver! Strapon!”

The instant she spoke that last word a strapon dropped from the ceiling in front of Zephery. It was a white, well sized white dildo with a black strap, hard, but also kinda squishy, full of liquid.

Zephery picked it up and began to tie the sex toy around her waist.

“If you insist on being a pig I’m only too happy to help!” gloated the rap singer.

Vera didn’t answer, she had managed to get up after reaching her circle. She was leaning forward, gasping heavily, her hands on her knees. She breathed deeply, gulped, straightened up, she slapped her face and untied her ponytail, leaving her auburn hair free. Zephery was showing the strapon to her, doing thrusting motions with her hips. Vera looked at her with a shining determination in her eyes.

“On the count of three!” announced the referee. “One…! Two…! Three!”

For once Vera was the first to react, she rushed forward with the intention of tackling.

Zephery didn’t move, she waited patiently until the last possible instant, when she stepped to the side, leaving her foot in the middle of Vera’s path. The wine mom was moving too fast to stop, she stumbled over the obstacle and fell over.

Now having her rival on the floor Zephery went for victory.

She grabbed Vera by the neck from behind, raising her up.

“It’s time to squeal, pig!” the rap singer proclaimed, while spreading open Vera’s buttocks.

Vera felt the pressure of the plastic phallus approaching her anus.

Her useless slaps didn’t help.

The crowd was on the edge of their seats.

She closed her eyes.

Her brain returned her back to that conversation…

Ginne sits naked on one of the benches in the locker room, calming her with a soft smile and her easy going tone.

“Don’t worry, Vera,” she had told her. “If they corner you just remember this…”

Vera coughed, half-choked by Zephery arm. She couldn’t liberate herself by mere force, but she had one advantage, being taller and having longer arms. With no time to come up with a better plan, her hand slapped blindly at Zephery’s back in search of her objective, crawling downward, sliding inside the silver panties.

Zephery’s eyebrows rose.

“What…?”

Vera snorted, grunted.

“The… thumb… in the bum…!”

“AHHHHHH!”

The wine mom nailed the rap singer’s butthole with her thumb, a risky move that took Zephery by surprise. Lucky for Vera when Zephery hopped forward, startled by the sudden backdoor penetration, the dildo missed its mark, the tip of the toy slid up her spine.

Vera knew that she couldn’t waste this opportunity she’d created.

She grabbed the arm around her neck firmly and dropped herself backwards with all her weight, dragging Zephery with her. She landed on top of the rap singer's bouncy tits, leaving her breathless.

The audience gasped, equally as surprised as Zephery when that finger went inside her butt.

Mad J. Earl: Oh, my, what a move! She’s quite well versed in classical wrestling.

Vera’s attack didn’t relent, she got on top of Zephery before Zephery could get up and with every ounce of her strength lifted the rap singer sideways while shouting like a barbarian.

“Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“Yiaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Zephery was helplessly rattled before being tossed, landing on her belly and naked tits a couple metres away.

The wine mom stood, looking furious, with the silver bra in her hands. Leaving behind the bra she charged, naked fury that wasn’t going to allow her opponent a single instant of respite. Zephery tried to crawl away in an attempt to gain space and recompose herself, but Vera grabbed her by the legs and dragged her across the floor.

Next Vera lifted Zephery by her legs, holding her lower limbs against her chest, forcing the rap singer into a precarious handstand while she began to untie the dildo and to bite at the silver panties with snarling teeth.

“S-Stop… Stop, I have the advantage!” Zephyr cried, wiggling helplessly with the sole of Vera’s foot pressed against her face. “The dildo is mine! The dildo is mine!”

Mad J. Earl: A classic misconception, gaining the advantage only means that you get to attach the strapon first, but if your rival manages to take it away from you, as it seems is about to happen, they are perfectly entitled to use it. You win if you are the first to penetrate or if your rival doesn’t want to continue.

“NAAAAAAAAAARGH!” Vera snarled, pulling the panties off with her teeth and gaining possession of the strapon.

She spat the panties away and pushed Zephery away, Zephery tumbled over, ending up laying down belly up, naked and spreadeagled.

Dakota Trazza: It seems that Zephery was overly confident about her victory too soon…

Mad J. Earl: Not only her.

Dakota Trazza: Who could have guessed that that skinny ass housewife had a valkyrie gladiator inside her?

Mad J. Earl: Me.

Dakota Trazza: Screw you, grandpa, nobody likes a show off!

Mad J. Earl: *chuckles*

Zephery lay, dazed and exhausted, by the time she recalled that she was in a fight it was too late. Vera was grabbing her by the legs again, lifting her lower body up, her feet pressed back on her face.

Completely pinned.

Completely dominated.

Beyond the toenails she saw Vera, standing tall above her, a dishevelled raging apparition, the strapon ready at her waist. The wine mom was spreading her plump legs wide open, lining up her pussy with the tip of the sex toy for the final strike.

But Vera stopped.

“Give up!” she shouted. “Give up! Now! You lost”

The rap singer ground her teeth, the heat, the sweat, the smell, the strong pressure of the foot against her cheek. Somehow, despite the humiliation, she pulls a grin, curls her toes.

“Ggggh… Fuck you, piiIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH!”

Vera thrust with the dildo before the taunt was finished, the plastic hardon slid effortlessly inside Zephery’s vagina.

Mad J. Earl: We have a penetration!

Vera pushed further with her hips, falling over her plump defeated rival, pushing Zephery’s legs until Zephery was squished into a pretzel shape, with her feet near her head and her knees squeezing her boobs.

Fucked deeply by the fake cock.

“Ohhh! OHHHHHHHH! FUCK!”

The wine mom’s thrusts gained speed, force and confidence with each subsequent pelvic slam. All the exhilaration, all the angst and grief exploded in an outburst of lust with the chorus a cheering crowd as the background music.

A naked raw coitus.

They were lost in the dichotomy between sworn rivals and sudden lovers. During those blurry moments of lewd action it was only joint pleasure.

For Vera the pleasure of being powerfully dominant.

For Zephery the pleasure of being pumped with plastic.

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” she repeated every time Vera pushed.

The rap singer grabbed the wine mom’s face and robbed a kiss from the adversary that had defeated her.

Close to a shared orgasm the strapon’s phallus reacted as if it was aware of the ongoing events, capable of recognizing the carnal walls surrounding its sizable length. The penis-device shook violently inside that pussy, an abrupt jostling that Zephery felt all the way up to her chest. Shortly after that, the vibrating pulsations started - several small holes opened in the tip and the sides of the dildo from which a thick warm pinkish liquid was discharged in every possible direction, filling up Zephery sex to the point of absolute overflow.

Zephery’s eyelids open wide, in a jerk she pulls Vera's head, pressing her rival’s face between her breasts while stretching her neck and howling in orgasmic bliss.

“UUUUUUH FFFFFFffook! FOK! OK! OOOK! OOOOOOOOHK!”

The referee’s whistle joined the noise.

Vera lifted her head from between the tits, she had been concentrating so much on her sexual performance that she hadn’t noticed that the referee had approached them until she saw the referee’s fingers pointing at Zephery.

“Silver defeated!” declared the arbiter in a thunderous voice. “Pleasured! Penetrated! Transformed!”

The vibrations of the dildo seemingly extended from the plastic into the flesh, resonating through every single fibre of Zephery’s pleasured body, making the soon not to be woman convulse.

“Ohhhh! Uuuuk! Ooooouhhh!” she moaned, soaked in sweat.

The wine mom was still holding her in a sexy pretzel posture, still penetrating her with the strapon.

They looked at each other.

Rivals, adversaries, eye to eye… and then Zephery’s eyes started to change.

Shrinking into dark shininess

Inhuman.

A pair of eyes just like those of a sea lion.

A confused and horny sea lion.

Zephery’s nose and upper lips twitched, she snorted and a long stiff whisker sprouted from one side of her face. Then a second whisker, a third, a fourth… Growing in quick succession on the left side and then the right side.

Her nose fell back into itself, its skin swelled, becoming rough and black, becoming a tiny and sorta cute snout fringed by the long whiskers.

“Uhhhhhh!” Zephery’s dark eyes crossed in a poor attempt at looking down at her changing face. She touched the tip of the whiskers with the tips of her fingers, seemingly amazed.

Vera remains on top, watching at the progression of the metamorphosis, speechless and with her mouth open, despite it not being the first time she had witnessed such an event.

That fact didn’t seem to matter.

It doesn’t matter…

It doesn’t matter how many times you see it, it doesn’t matter how many times you hear or read about it… seeing a woman become a beast is always a mesmerising fantasy.

Even more so if you are in the first row for the spectacle.

This time she was the direct cause of the transformation and that made her pussy clench underneath the dildo.

Zephery, with a sea lion’s muzzle forming in the middle of her face, stared back at the wine mom and let out another horny neck-stretching howl.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK!”

Saliva hit Vera’s bone cheeks, but she didn’t close her eyes, not wanting to miss anything. The former rap singer howled as if she was born a sea creature and as she howled her skull cracked loudly, pushing outwards into a muzzle, her mouth spread impossibly wide, fangs lengthening while the rest of her teeth shrunk, but all of them becoming sharp and pointy.

The howling grew stronger with each change, the agitation of the transformation so intense it made Vera shake, reigniting the dildo in Zephery’s pussy.

“Waah!” It was like riding a sea bull, the wine mom’s fingers losing their grip on Zephery’s wet skin, the strapon going in and out.

Patches of shiny brownish-grey fur began to sprout and disperse over her skin, quickly spreading and coating her body inch by inch. Her neck bloating, Vera fell onto Zephery’s chest, the dildo all the way inside her burning pussy.

Her nose touched Zephery’s muzzle.

Zephery showed off her sharp teeth with a sharp smirk.

“Toukch youk self thinking aboukt this every noight!”

With a powerful jolt Zephery sent Vera flying away as the transformation forced her to liberate her limbs from the pretzel pose. Her vagina was left leaking the pink and throbbing beyond control.

“OOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUKH!”

Vera landed on her back, she sat up to stare back at the spectacle.

Zephery lay down, doing all sorts of sexual and beastly sounds as the shifting of her form progressed. Her hair began to fall out, her ears growing floppy and smaller, arms and legs hastily shortening leaving her severely and mockingly handicapped. She hooted and hooted, slapping her breasts with both hands as they shrank and migrated down towards her narrowing pelvis to become teats and her fingers lost their nails and elongated, becoming connected by a flesh web to turn into long, wide flippers.

Foreflippers.

Her legs were totally lost at the hips, leaving only her flattening feet that were changing in a way quite similar to how her hands had mutated, but not quite as large. They could be mistaken for a stubby mermaid’s tail, but there were no fish scales on her deforming feet.

The second pair of flippers.

Hindflippers.

The hind flippers of a sea lion.

A big female sea lion.

Grunting and snorting Zephery rolled over, getting herself up onto all flippers. The changes were close to their conclusion, to erasing almost all traces from her previous self.

Her spine bent and curved as she was squeezed into a more tubular shape, shoulder bones compressed above her ribcage. She lowered her lower body flat against the floor, rubbing her sex, howling with lustful passion at the ruin of her human form.

Vera had got up, approaching what was left of her rival. The wine mom had a hand on the dildo, mindlessly slowly stroking the plastic toy as she saw the changes slowing down. The sea lion tilted her neck to look at her, the flashy green and pink dreadlock hung lonely from the beast’s forehead.

“Briiioink susssshyshhh wennn ooook ooook vishiiik!”

Vera leaned forward, grabbed the dreadlock and pulled it off her forehead.

The metamorphosis ends.

From the speakers the bell rings three times in a row.

The referee grabbed Vera’s arm, the one with the hand holding the dreadlock, and lifted it up high.

“Red underwear, Vera Sebastos! Dominanta victory!”

Vera’s stunned expression didn’t change with the referee’s announcement, but the audience answered it with outrageous applause. One of the hidden doors of the arena opened and a team of five arena staff members, all of them dressed in white overalls and with black masks concealing their faces, rushed in and surrounded the female sea lion to take care of the distressed horny beast and give her any aid she may need.

The camera moved back from the close up, back to its rotating motion around the busy arena. On each side of the screen the naked displays of the two challengers returned. Zephery’s display froze with her looking forward and was dulled into a complete grey tone, Vera’s display remained slowly spinning and exposing the wine mom’s nudity in full colour.

Mad J. Earl: *clapping* What a match! What a match! THAT’S why we love Dominanta fights, excitement until the very last second!

Dakota Trazza: I’m glad I didn’t bet on it, but that transformation was amazing! Made me want to ook, ook alongside the seal! I was pulling my panties down!

Mad J. Earl: I agree, it’s a shame that challengers do tend to choose mundane farm animals for their victories, rare transformations make the changes more interesting in my opinion.

Dakota Trazza: Uhhhh… So, I’ve just been informed by our Backstage staff that seals and sea lions are two different kinds of animals. Who could even tell the difference?

Mad J. Earl: That’s another plus for these rare TFs, learning about the fantastic biodiversity of our world is always entertaining.

Dakota Trazza: I guess so, grandpa... Okay, it’s time to close out this stream to get ready for the next fight.

Mad J. Earl: Don’t miss it people! After the commercials from our sponsors we have a match between our luchadora superstar Perra Loba and a newcomer that claims to be a witch!

Dakota Trazza: Subscribers will receive the next streaming link in a few minutes, don’t forget to share it on your favourite social media platforms!

The transmission concludes and the screen goes dark.

---If you want to see more kinky TF shenanigans give a click to these links! ^^

-Furaffinity: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/senorincognito69

-DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/senorincognito69

-Twitter: https://twitter.com/SIncognito69

--If you want to support and help me do more stuff:

-Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/senorincognito69

-Gumroad: https://app.gumroad.com/senorincognito69

-Pixiv Fanbox: https://senorincognito69.fanbox.cc/

-Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/senorincognito69

#tf #transformation #tale

4 notes · View notes

therealityhelix · 2 years ago

Text

Shards of the Nexus: Capital Vices

Nobody was normal about this kid, and this was not a normal kid.

Song: You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid-The Offspring

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions

Kaleidoscopic colors, pixels wandering a hundred vintage screens, a midi chorus of conflicting cricket song. Cars, creatures, adventurers and brawlers stared out from the sides of time worn arcade coin slot machines, a maze of classic console entertainment that had never risen on her lost world, but were old news here.

It was a maze, she realized after the first few twists and turns, low lights casting deep shadows on the muffling moleskin of the lively retro carpet. Despite the incessant beeps and blips, the world was still, air stifling but chilly.

Holes in the walls of the console labyrinth, filled with makeshift malice. A normal kitchen chair, clumsily furnished with wrist and ankle bindings. An altered puzzle cube on a plinth, next to a digital timer. An old dance game pad repurposed into something far more dangerous, tangled wires trailing off into the dark.

Baby's First Deathtraps?

All the information she'd been given indicated that this one was a child, still in school. Yet he was already cutting his teeth on deadly constructions?

She didn't understand. Why didn't the Detective do something about this? Why didn't Swag or YJ step in? Why was a child being allowed to live alone, to take their life in this direction?

Each Riddler she had met so far wielded personal individualism like a sacred icon, a faith unassailable, and maybe they were simply incapable of entertaining the notion of removing that choice from another of their number.

Helix did not believe in fate, but there might have been some kind of indelible current of probability that swept the various Edwards Nashton down this deleterious path. Some unseen reason that every Nexus reality-each a living thing in its own right-needed a Riddler to exist within it, if only briefly.

He was the Minotaur in the center of the maze, working on a rat king of winding wires, and he leapt to his feet at the unexpected sight of her; smooth jaw, jade and mahogany. He glared from under a department store fedora, a thin scar on his cheek, oversized green hoodie nearly hiding his hands, one clutching a pair of pliers, the other, a screwdriver.

“You weren't invited.” he said, his voice a cracking mock growl, an imitation of intimidation. “Why did you come in here? Who are you and what do you want?”

Helix held up her hands.

“I'm not an enemy. I'm friends with some of your friends. You're Nash, right? I'm Helix.��

He held the screwdriver in front of him, angling its tip at her face.

“Puzzles mentioned you. He said you were some idiot who was going around antagonizing your betters.”

“Oh, did he?” she said, her voice ironed with sarcasm. “A real charmer, isn't he?”

Nash gestured threateningly with the screwdriver.

“You still didn't tell me what you want.” he pointed out. “Why did you come here? I'm busy!”

“Curiosity.” she stated simply. “Puzzles' phrasing could definitely use some work, but he's right in that I am traveling around to meet all of you. I'm curious about how this series of worlds work.”

“So you can move around the worlds too?” he lowered the screwdriver. “How do you-Lust, wait!”

A quick darting of shadow, an impression of azure, and some thing hit her. Not physical, but a blossoming of warm air, a dionaea trap closing around its unsuspecting prey.

And she was no longer in the arcade, its eight bit lights and midi music fading out, twining vines drawing her back into the sensual craving hidden in her own mind. Secret desires made manifest, strong, thin hands holding her flush against a lean body. She glanced up in expectation of emerald green eyes, and coffee-dark hair...

But it wasn't Puzzles gear oil and oakmoss that filled her senses, dragged her away from the here and now. It was the alcohol sting, the refreshing pine and lime of the Question Mark and it's peacock inhabitant. It was lapis and amber, an irreverent, permissive grin. When had this happened?

A long time ago, if she were to be honest with herself. She clung to her memory of love through Puzzles, expected him to occupy her thoughts, but...Puzzles was not Edwin, never would be. Edwin never would be again.

And that was all right.

Puzzles did not want her. So great was his disinterest, that he hadn't even known of her attraction to him. It was for the best. That attraction had been false, driven by the memories of a man long dead, a potential life destroyed.

Puzzles, with his razor tongue, cut those expectations to ribbons, slashed the bindings on her, wove a barbed fence of lines not to cross. She was thankful. That chapter of her life had ended years ago, but she had clung to that last page for so long the ink had smudged onto her hands. Puzzles thoughtless rudeness had shown her it was past time to finally close the book, and begin a new one.

It had already happened. In her spirit, she had already opened a new chapter. Same genera perhaps, but a different story.

A story involving skilled hands and a bold personality, a quick mind that treated the English language like the malleable ball of clay that it was, using it all to drive her pleasantly mad.

Maybe he even knew. Maybe he didn't, not yet. This had been waiting deep down inside her, some thing was reaching deep down inside her, pulling it all out. A deep rootbound ball of tangled desire that wanted nothing more than to succumb to those gentle hands, to feel the hot breath on her face and let it steal her own away, to open wide and welcome intrusion, deep down inside some thing was intruding. Teeth on her lips, hips on her hips, the scratch of facial hair against her skin. That dancing tenor sculpting words, promising her every pleasure, and she wanted nothing more than to let him fulfill those promises, to bury her in all his hedonistic potential, she wanted nothing more...

No, that wasn't true. She did want more than that. She wanted more than she felt he was willing to give, that was why she continued to hesitate. This was all just a fantasy she didn't want to admit to herself for fear of his rejection. Some thing was dredging it up before she was ready to accept it.

Some thing.

Some

Thing

This wasn't a fantasy, this was violation.

Force erupted from her body, throwing back everything close to her, including the dark being that had her wrapped in a cocoon of probing tendrils. The blast knocked her free of its grip, and it reformed itself from writhing strips of shadow; a humanoid creature of black and azure, smoke and razors, contained in a glassy skin.

“What are you?” she demanded, having never seen such a being before. “What were you doing to me?”

“~Aw, and just as I was getting to the creamy center~” the thing teased in a breathy voice. It retreated to Nash's side, who was staring in startled concern. “~Be careful, darling. She may be utterly delectable, but she holds power!~ I know what you are, morsel. Witch. Devil's bride~”

It draped itself over Nashton's back like a cloak, sinking in. To her horror, it disappeared inside him entirely.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he gasped. “He doesn't usually do that!”

“Hold still.” Helix said, grasping the boy by his thin shoulders. “I think I can cast it out of you.”

His soft, youthful face twisted.

“~I am here by invitation, witch~” the creature snarled, using Nash's mouth. “~you are the trespasser here. Be gone, interloper! We don't need you~”

“Keep talking, violator.” Helix snapped. “You'll be nothing soon.”

Nash shook his head hard, throwing her hands off.

“Everybody shut up!” he demanded.

Helix stepped back. Black, sickle-clawed arms sprouted from his sides and wrapped around him, consoling.

“~I apologize. I thought she was an enemy. Also, she's practically dripping with desire. It's altogether too tempting~”

Nash recoiled in fearful disgust.

“~Not for you dearest~” the creature clarified. “~She's delicious, not deplorable~”

“Thanks.” Helix said flatly.

“Look, don't tell me things like that, I don't want to know.” Nash said, sitting back down to work with his wires. “Okay. Okay, fine. You aren't an enemy, but you're not a friend either. I don't care who you know, I don't know you. Don't just come in here like you own the place. It's mine. Okay?”

“Okay.” Helix agreed. He was the only one so far to make that demand of her, so she would acquiesce. But only to this one.

“Also, I would like to head something off at the pass.” His wary eyes swept up her, sweet pistachio ice cream, as indirect as an asp strike. “You look like a...nice lady. You should know that I don't need or want another mother. Or a big sister, or a nanny, or a guardian angel. I have everyone I need. Don't try to adopt me, don't try to change me, don't get in my way, and maybe we can get along. And don't be mean to Lust either. He's not a monster. Or, well...hes my friend, so don't mess with him, or I'll mess with you. Is that clear?”

He was a child trying to speak with authority to a power he didn't comprehend. She didn't have to abide by any of it. And yet...

“Master of your own kingdom.” she sat down next to him, her pomegranate colored skirt fluffing around her ankles. “Very well. I agree.”

He'd come to understand the boon eventually.

“And Lust; as long as she plays by my rules, don't try to feed off her again, okay?”

“~Oh, all right~”

“Now, as long as we are all playing nice, is there anything else you wanted, Miss Helix? Do you want to try out one of my puzzles?”

She liked these various Riddlers, but after Arkham, she was loathe to step into any more of their convoluted contraptions.

“Actually, I'd like to know what you're working on right now.”

“Really?” an electric spark lit within him. “Well, it starts with this connector right here...”

Artist: Me

Artist: Unknown

Artist: @miasmacaron

#shards of the nexus #Riddler Family #nash!riddler #there was very little art of nash

2 notes · View notes