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occamstfs · 9 months ago

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Actually, They're Called Tetrominoes

Been holding out on some kinda Video Game trigger, here's a bit of an odd Russian cultural/racial TF, enjoy! -Occam

Michael could stand to be a more pleasant person. Day to day he is a pretty run of the mill head-down kinda guy, amicable but never really goes out his way to chat or make friends. Instead he finds his free time often used to prowl the internet looking for people to torment online in whatever way he finds funny at the moment. Born too late to be a goon on SomethingAwful he typically pages through Reddit threads and communities looking for someone sensitive or cartoonishly argumentative.

This is precisely where he finds himself tonight, being a pedant on some video game thread that he doesn’t truly care about. Some presumably Russian user, u/ZandrIvnov, seems to be quite proud of Tetris which Michael finds incredibly amusing. As an American he too takes pride in many of the cultural exports and ideas that his nation has sent into the world, including many of the deeply entrenched ideas about the Russian and Soviet people taught in world history. It takes especially little for him to decide to start taunting and baiting this man sitting at his keyboard a world away.

Michael launches petty taunts at the Russian, poking fun at his nationality and Eastern Europe at large, stopping short at making fun of the man’s less than perfect English, for now at least. Michael switches between accounts to upvote his responses and even add additional dunks on the Tetris-fan as needed. Try as he might though to get the conversation away from the ancient game and get some more personal and profane digs in there he finds it difficult to find any truly satisfying or clever insults.

Getting tired of hearing this man assert Russian superiority he prepares to pull the ripcord and move on before he sees the Russian misstep talking about the game he’s so invested in, as probably the only fun fact he has on deck comes to mind. After the Russian so eloquently compares Michael’s head to a Tetris piece Michael immediately replies, “okay lol big fan huh they’re actually called tetrominoes” and then moves on to find some other doofus to bully on the internet.

On the other side of the screen Sasha seethes at the man, so juvenile in his mockery “Проклятые американцы. (Fucking Americans.)” He takes to his own keyboard messaging Michael directly as his arrogant messages dry up in the thread proper, Sasha was going to have him put his money where his mouth was. He offers a challenge, “u americans are so proud da? how about we see whos country rly is the best”

Michael felt his pulse rise in excitement at how much he has truly bothered this man. Smug smile on his face as he types his response, “what did u have in mind, Zander?”

“Саша(Sasha) is my name. since u are so smart about tetris, why not see who is actual master of game da?” Sasha offers, knowing already that the troll is sure to accept out of pride alone. Michael wasn’t all that much of a gamer but surely he could show this dweeb what’s what yeah? He starts looking up tips to win Tetris as he replies “sure whatever dude, what are u thinkin”

Sasha smirks as he has Michael right where he wants him, “loser agrees with winner about national superiority? should not be problem if you americans are so good at every thing” Michael was already eager to give it a go and Sasha’s taunt only makes him all the more raring to go. Before he can even pause his meager attempt to study strategy, Sasha sends over a link to the game and Michael clicks over to play, leaving the cheat sheet open on a second monitor.

Michael types his name into the game and finds himself looking at a familiar screen. He’s never played the game competitively but it’s a pretty simple game right? He just needs to keep his cool once the pieces start flying in. He gets the cheeky idea to check the cheat sheet in between pieces. That’s that good-old red white and blue ingenuity, Michael thinks. Unaware that these are of course also of the Russian flag. There’s a ping from the board as Sasha uses the in game chat to ask “u understand the rules da”

Michael sends back a thumbs up and Sasha sets the game going. It is predictably uneventful at the beginning, neither man making any particularly interesting plays. Michael continues to skim how to best cheat the game while Sasha waits for the perfect moment to fuck him over. Michael finds himself enjoying the game more than he thought he would as he hears the familiar tune, it is awfully catchy isn’t it? He’s gotta hand it to the soviets for that. His gameplay slows down as he tries to speedread the page on his other monitor. Instead of forcing pieces quickly he instead lets them drift slowly while his board is relatively clear. Sasha sees this and decides to go in for the kill.

Suddenly as Michael’s eyes wander away from the game for just a second too long there is an unfamiliar sound. He darts his attention back only to see the floor of his Tetris board rocket up in response to Sasha doing an impossibly well timed combo of lines. Michael’s heartbeat increases at a shocking rate in response as losing becomes a very real possibility. Why is he so upset? His face grows red as he realizes just how outclassed he is. Obviously this is no big deal right? Just a game. But Michael cannot help but feel physically uncomfortable as the tides start to turn so swiftly.

There is suddenly a crick in his neck that he stretches to avail but only exacerbates as a soreness begins to spread further across his body. Man is he tensing up too much? It’s just, it’s just a game right? Trying to calm down he is hit with the thought as if it were a shot of adrenaline that he absolutely cannot lose this game. His eyebrows furrow as they begin to square and thicken, casting dark shadows over his rage-filled eyes. His limbs take turns cramping as he clenches his neck and jaw to distract from the pane, not noticing as the structure of his face begins to change.

His chest grows to join the chorus of muscle spasms as Michael struggles to keep up with even Sasha’s slower gameplay. Across the seas Sasha takes his time, knowing victory is in the bag, and savoring what he knows must be happening to his little troll Michael right now. He smirks as he imagines the discomfort in Michael’s changing body as he feels warmth grow in his own chest, and crotch, as he decides just how much he wants to play with his food.

Back in the states Michael finds the heat, the sweat, the tightness of his clothes increasingly unbearable. As he continues to mash buttons on his remote he is too intent on the game to notice as hair begins to darken around his forearms and begin to snake its way towards his hands. He rubs them each down to placate the tickle on his growing arms. This is absolutely nothing to the creeping itch that is starting to encompass the entirety of his rapidly expansive legs. He shifts his heavier thighs trying to soothe the discomfort, making a loud sound as they pull away from the sweat sticking them to the chair but not allaying the soreness or itch in the slightest.

He grunts and notices not how his voice has grown both deeper and gruffer in his throat. Michael struggles to keep the remote from slipping out of his hands as sweat trickles down from his hairy arms and into his palms. Before it becomes a problem however Michael takes advantage of the lull in Sasha’s gameplay and tries to quickly remove his far too strained shirt. It should be a simple task after all, just put the remote down for a second, slide it off, and then back to the game. He does a brief check in to ensure he has even that and after believing he does Michael starts to try and remove the shirt strained and sticking to his skin.

He has precious little time as the pieces continue to fall at their set pace in game. He gets one hand under the hem of his shirt and tries to wrench it while keeping his other hand on the controller, this lets in a breeze of cold air sending quivers of pleasure across his pulsating muscle, as well as igniting a burning ache in his chest and torso. His upper body grows even further, finally overfilling his shirt as the sound of tears ring out in his bedroom alongside the same repetitive folk song he knows well. The idea that this shirt was loose fitting when he threw it on this morning or that he just identified the Tetris theme as a folk song rather than an 8-bit annoyance don’t have a chance to come to mind as he struggles to remain focused on not losing the game.

He pulls the shirt up to his chest before it gets uncomfortably stuck “Ach, bog uh- god damnit.” He scratches at his chest as the soreness and growing muscle makes way for a fiery prickling as the few chest hairs he has been a tad ashamed of begin to thicken and darken on his chest. Swirling out from his nipples and inching higher on his chest with each breath, he continues to struggle to remove himself mindlessly. Finding his shirt caught on his expansive pecs he rubs his hand underneath it across his sweaty chest, and finding it pleasurably drag through more hair on his pecs than he would’ve sworn he had in his pubes, he resolves to remove the shirt however he can.

As soon as he finishes a line Michael tosses the remote down and goes to raise his shirt above his head, his thicker arms struggling as they adjust to their new range of motion. He wrests the tight shirt above his head, his chest bursting large once more, freed from the garment as the breeze tickles the sweat covered chest hair and forces his enlarged nipples to harden. Having overcome his suddenly massive pecs the neckline is now caught on his chin, his arms raised high above his head expose his pits to the cold open air. He feels the air con blow against his recently shaved pits as the hair begins to grow back. It starts to catch as the hair begins to grow thicker and longer than it had ever done before, curling together as new hairs begin to push out and form a bush thick enough to never see the skin beneath again.

This also brings his attention to new development in his body, with his face shoved into his shirt it would be impossible not to notice the unbecoming amount of sweat soaking it. Arms raised though he finally notices that he has an altogether far more powerful scent, on par with a macro-obsessed body builder or hygiene-phobic wild man. Michael feels a beard start to push out into the shirt still hugging his face. Shaving once a month was more than enough to keep him clean shaven but now he knew deep in his mind that he would never have a day again where his face would be smooth. It’s that Ru- That American blood in him, right?

He begins to feel himself lost in the scent as his mind begins to grow distracted, attention fading from the game despite the looping tune filling his mind. He turns his head to smell his pits through his shirt which is when he hears the dreaded sound of Sasha making a combo once more, “Gah! Nyo, I can’t lose” he shouts, not noticing as his rough tone begins to develop a slight accent. Ending the long-standing struggle against his shirt he simply rips it off and jumps for the controller, ashamed at how foolish and lustful he has suddenly found himself in the middle of this all-important competition.

He needs to make his people proud! He cannot let Amerika down, ya? His focus and vision return to the game as he stumbles through one more line before all the pieces fall from view and the game declares Sasha the winner. Mikael reflexively pounds his table shouting, “Ny- no! I, this!” struggling to find any words to make his loss okay. Unable to notice just how bizarre this game has affected him, though sure that something grave has occurred. He scrambles to the chat box where he sees Sasha has yet again beaten him to the punch, “gg Брат(brother) yes?”

Mikael’s eyes don’t even notice the language switch in the message as he quickly races to demand a rematch. Punching keys slower than the career-cyberbully is accustomed to, almost as if he would be more comfortable with a different keyboard format, slowly he punches his response “one more best dva out of tri ya?” Sasha laughs out loud seeing Mikael suddenly typing out anglicized Russian. He smirks and squeezes his crotch in excitement at just how far this American brat has fallen into his hands. Sasha responds in full Russian knowing that Mikael may as well already be his countryman. “конечно, почему бы и нет, брат (sure why not, brother)”

Mikael smiles as he prepares for yet another go against Sasha, he’s eager to learn from his, uh? Suddenly he can’t quite remember how he knows Sasha exactly as his memories of his persistent pathetic history of being a troll begins to fade from his mind. As the Tetris theme starts once more with the game Mikael finds himself singing along as the words to the folk song it is based on, blushing at the vulgarity therein.

The race is on once more and though he was sure this was a competition against his friend, no, his брат(brother), Sasha, He can’t help but feel a giddiness as the game progresses. He feels a warmth in his chest just from playing a game of his childhood, of his country? No he’s a born and bred statesman da? He’s from, uh Moscow is a city in one of the states too da? Though he finds himself distracted his body continues to expertly control the game subconsciously.

He blushes as he struggles to remember where he grew up, it was a smaller town for sure. Somewhere very far North for sure, after all why else would he grow so hairy! He launches into a hearty laugh as body hair continues to push out from every pore in his body, sure to be peaking out from every shirt collar on both sides. He scratches at his pubes as it becomes clear that even besides his massive package there will evermore be a bulge in his pants from this unkept jungle as well.

His eyes continue to follow the pieces up and down as they slowly begin to lighten and bleach themselves an icy blue. The itchiness that has made itself at home through the whole of its body is replaced with a burning pleasure as he thinks oh his home. Full days where there is only sun, long treks into the city to visit St. Basil’s, helping his mother fry pirozhki. The hair atop his head bleaches itself a sandy blonde while still thickening and pulling itself short as a lightbulb goes off in his head his voice rumbles in his chest as he reflexively speaks in what must be his mother tongue, “Конечно! я спрошу у Саши (Of course! I’ll just ask Sasha).”

He goes to pause the game as he now knows he can do and types to Sasha in chat, “hey брат, wher am i от again?” Sasha smirks at just how easy this was stopping short from fully masturbating as he thinks of his new massive countryman living a world away as he replies, “недалеко от Москвы, Миша (just outside of Moscow, Misha).”

Misha’s eyes glaze over as he reads this, the room around him changes, American flags familiar patterns shift into the Russian tricolor. Any writing within the room shifts from English to the cyrillic alphabet and Misha sits there with a smile as he recalls his home. Long winters working alongside his best friend Sasha. His neck thickens and his waist expands as he thinks of long nights drinking alongside his friends to abate the cold. The game of Tetris continues on and he again feels a warmth in his chest at the chance to play with his dearest Друг(friend) Sasha.

For the life of him he can’t quite remember why he has moved to Америки though he is sure that Sasha will know. Sasha always knows the right thing to do. One thing is for sure though, he is going to do his Motherland proud.

#male tf #cultural change #hair growth #muscle tf #masculinization #racial change #mental change

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queenshelby · 9 months ago

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Sweet Possession (Part 1)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

It was about four months ago when you met him, this blue-eyed stranger who would change your life forever. It was as if you had stepped into the unknown, shedding your old, familiar skin. He made your head spin with his charm and allure for the unknown.

When you talked to him for the very first time, it was as if you had known each other for years. He listened to you, and you felt as though he truly understood who you were and what you needed in life.

Despite being over 12 years older than you , Thomas Shelby made you feel safe and wanted, desired and accepted. You never felt such a connection to someone who had such an intense personality as Thomas and, most importantly for all, he showed you respect.

Thomas (or Tommy as you called him) was a wealthy business man from Birmingham and whilst you did not know much about his business activities, you knew that he was responsible for import and export of goods such Tabacco and cars.

With both of your parents not having survived the sinking of the Titanic, you had no one but yourself to stand up for and take care of yourself until Tommy came into your life.

He took you in and took care of you a few months ago, admiring your inner strength and determination to overcome all the challenges that life had thrown at you ever since you had turned 16, which was almost three years before you met him, your soon to be husband.

You were 19 years old when you met the 32-year-old in a pub named the Garrison shortly after you had started working there behind the bar. That night, Tommy had saved you from some unwanted attention from some other patrons and as you sat together that night, your connection was undeniable, palpable. Every guess or gut feeling you had ever had about your future guesses or dreams was confirmed in an instant. This was the moment that would change it all.

Fast-forward a bit and soon you found yourself living in Tommy's mansion, which you had yet to fully discover. The mansion was home to your own magnificent bedroom, Surreal wallpapers, wax-leafed walls, brass fixtures, and white porcelain handles.

It was surreal coming from almost living on the street to this and when Tommy asked you to marry him a few weeks ago, you accepted blindly only thinking of the safety and love he gave you.

The wedding ceremony itself was small, with only some of his family in attendance. You were his second wife; his first wife having died four years ago and this was something that did not bother you. You accepted him with all as his baggage, just as he accepted you.

***

Having respected your wishes not to engage in any sexual activities before marriage, you two waited for the big night, anticipating the pleasure of having each other's bodies.

Tommy had told you through the weeks leading up to your wedding day that he would be gentle, as he assumed you were still a virgin and had no experience with men. He also told you that he would teach you everything there was to know about sex, which was a prospect that excited you.

You knew that being abstinent for more than four months, must have been difficult for a man his age, and you couldn't help but admire him for his respect towards you and your decision to wait until your wedding night.

Unlike many other men, he said that he had no interest in the services of prostitutes and you believed him. He showed you that intimacy was not just about sex but more about the emotional connection between two people. But as each day passed, the tension between you two grew stronger and stronger.

The big night finally arrived. You had taken a bath, washing your whole body using a lavender-scented soap and then slid your body gently into a silky nightgown that you had bought in an expensive store downtown especially for you wedding night. As you looked at the mirror, you could not help but feel a bit nervous.

Tommy knocked gently on your door and after a short moment, he opened it up.

As you stood there in your nightgown, he couldn't help but stare. His eyes wandered over every bit of your body, and you could see the hunger in his eyes from a mile away.

Approaching you, he gently took your hand and drew you closer to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, making your core tighten.

"You are beautiful, Love," Thomas whispered in your ear, brushing a loose tendril of hair from your face, his breath warm against your skin.

He then took hold of your left hand again and tenderly kissed your wedding ring – a token of your eternal love. Your heart raced and your nerves tingled at his tender display of affection. Your cheeks felt flushed and the room seemed to be spinning as the moment you'd been waiting for your entire life was finally about to happen.

Your hands felt clammy and you were struggling to find the words to respond to the man you'd married.

"Tommy," you gasped. "I want you," you stammered, looking up into his sharp, handsome face.

He caught your gaze with a knowing smile. "Good, because I want you too," Thomas said, with his eyes blazing and expectant.

As you looked into his eyes, you felt yourself being swept away on a tide of anticipation and desire.

Thomas stood in front of you, his fingers tracing the outline of your delicate collarbone.

He leaned in to softly kiss your quivering lips. His tongue danced upon yours for a mere moment before he pulled away. Slowly, he unbuttoned your night dress and let it fall gently to the floor, revealing your perky, young breasts to the cool air of the bedroom.

He took a moment to admire your inexperienced and vulnerable beauty before he began to trail kisses down your neck, across your chest, and onto your sensitive nipples.

"Oh God," you gasped, your hands clenching in his thick, dark hair as he teased you with his mouth.

"You like that, do you?" Thomas whispered, a wicked grin on his face.

The heat between your thighs became unbearable. You wanted him to do more, to touch you there, to do away with the last scraps of clothing that separated you from the man you married.

"Why don't you lie down for me, Love?" Thomas suggested, as he began to remove his own clothes.

You nodded eagerly, unable to find your voice in the intensity of the moment. Your breath hitched as you watched him undress. His muscled chest and chiseled abdomen were revealed to you as he shed his shirt, and your mouth went dry as he removed his trousers to stand proudly before you.

You laid back against the plush, velvet pillows, feeling self-conscious about your own nakedness in front of such a strong, confident man.

You noticed that his member stood tall and rigid, ready to claim you as his.

"Stop looking at my cock and lay back, Sweetheart," Thomas chuckled, sensing your discomfort. "I promise I won't hurt you," he then reassured you and you swallowed hard, nodding in compliance as you scooted further up on the bed.

Thomas followed, crawling up the bed with a seductive grace. He settled between your thighs and you trembled with anticipation.

"Open for me," Thomas whispered, his fingers lightly tracing your slick folds.

You whimpered at the sensation of his touch, your body tensing as he explored you intimately. Slowly, you obeyed his demand and allowed your legs to fall open. You felt exposed and vulnerable, but also safe in Thomas' arms, which held you with a protectiveness you needed in this new and uncertain moment.

"Good girl," Thomas praised, his fingers circling your clit with a tantalizing slowness. "You are already so nice and wet for me, eh?" Thomas whispered, a suggestive smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as Thomas began to circle your clit with his thumb, all the while keeping his fingers buried inside of you.

"You are so beautiful Y/N. I am a lucky man," Thomas murmured, sensing your pleasure at his touch.

You nodded again, too caught up in the euphoria of the moment to find your voice.

Thomas began to thrust his fingers back and forth, his thumb continuing to rub your clit in slow, steady circles.

You threw your head back and moaned, your hips moving with a mind of their own. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting close to the edge.

"Let go for me, Love," Thomas whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let yourself go. I promise you'll enjoy it."

With those words, something inside of you snapped. You closed your eyes and let the waves of pleasure wash over you, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm.

"That's it," Thomas murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. "That's my good girl. You're so beautiful when you cum, sweetheart," Thomas said, his voice thick with lust as he brushed a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead.

You smiled weakly, still catching your breath after the powerful release you had just experienced. You had never felt anything like that before and you couldn't believe how intensely Thomas had been able to make you feel.

"I love you Tommy ," you whispered, half-ashamed of the needy tone in your voice.

Thomas kissed you softly, his lips tasting of salt and lust. "I love you too, my wife," he said, before his hand started to wander down your body again.

His fingers found your wetness once more and he stroked you gently before, finally, climbing on top of you.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Love," Thomas whispered, his breath hot against your cheek as he teased your entrance with his tip.

"Please be gentle , Tommy," you pleaded, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer size and intensity of Thomas' manhood.

He nodded, his eyes blazing with desire. "Of course, Sweetheart. I'll be as gentle as I can," he said and, with that, he slowly began to push himself inside of you.

You gasped at the initial pain and pressure of his penetration, clutching onto the sheets as he filled you up completely.

Thomas paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Are you alright, Love?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as you tried to relax and accommodate his girth.

"Yes, I'm okay," you assured him, and Thomas began to thrust in and out of you with slow, deliberate movements.

At first, it felt foreign and slightly painful, but as Thomas' rhythm gradually picked up speed, your discomfort gave way to a growing sense of pleasure and desire.

"You feel so good, Sweetheart," Thomas groaned, as he plunged deeper and deeper inside of you.

Your legs wrapped around Thomas' waist, drawing him closer still, as you moaned and writhed beneath him.

You had never experienced such intense pleasure before, and you could feel yourself edging closer and closer to the precipice of climax.

You clung to Thomas, your fingernails digging into the taut muscles of his back as you moaned and gasped beneath him.

"Oh, God, Tommy," you panted, your hips bucking to meet his thrusts. "I think I'm going to cum again."

Thomas' eyes blazed with a fierce hunger as he drove himself deeper inside of you, your bodies slapping together in a primal dance.

"That's right, Love. Cum for me," Thomas growled, his voice low and husky.

"I want to feel you tighten around me, Love. I want to hear you scream my name while I make you come."

With those filthy words, Thomas thrust deeper and harder into you, sending wave after wave of pulsating pleasure surging through your body.

"Yes, Tommy! Yes!" you screamed, your voice mingling with his deep, guttural grunts.

"Fuck, you feel so tight and warm. So fucking good," Thomas groaned, sweat dripping from his brow as he plunged into your depths again and again.

"Don't cum inside me ," you gasped, suddenly remembering a crucial detail as you had previously discussed that you were not yet ready to have children with him.

"I won't," Thomas groaned. "But I need to feel you a little longer. You just feel too good around my cock, Love," Thomas pleaded as he continued to drive himself in and out of you with wild, untamed passion.

You could feel another orgasm building within you, and you knew it would be powerful. You wanted to hold off for as long as possible, wanting to savor every exquisite sensation that Thomas was eliciting from your hyper-sensitive body.

But your pleasure took over and you succumbed to the tidal wave of ecstasy that washed over you. You screamed his name as you squeezed your thighs around his flexing hips.

"Good girl," Thomas panted in your ear, swirling his hips as he forced yet another powerful orgasm from your aching flesh. "So good. So, so fucking good."

You arched your back and collapsed against the bed, trembling beneath him as pain, pleasure, shame and wonderment coursed through your veins like liquid fire.

"Fuck, I am going to cum," Thomas groaned, the thickness of his cock throbbing within you before pulling out quickly and spraying sticky streaks of semen over your stomach, breasts, and bedsheets.

Both of you were breathing heavily as the room filled with the scent of your mutual pleasure, stocks damp with your fluids and mixed with the evidence of his release on your skin.

Neither of you spoke for a few moments, enjoying the quiet moment of contentment that came on the heels of such intense satisfaction.

Thomas broke the silence, removing evidence of his release from your body, as one would clean a precious piece of artwork after its masterpiece was finished.

"Did I hurt you, Love?" Thomas asked, his eyes softening as they met yours.

"No, I-I wanted that," you admitted, your body still shivering from the intense pleasure. "It was perfect," you told him, and he smiled, leaning down to kiss you softly, recalling how long he wanted to do this.

Unbeknownst to you, he had been wanting you for many years and now, finally, you were his. His wife. His possession. His triumph.

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onegirlatelier · 9 months ago

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April, 2024 | Shetland lace shawl

Hi there! It’s been a while. I’ve been kept busy by all my university work…and this shawl.

The shawl is knitted to celebrate the wedding of my friend (now friends, I should say). A wedding is really the perfect excuse for all the heritage crafts and heirloom projects that might seem too serious to gift in other occasions. I did ask the recipient beforehand if she would like it, though, and I was so, so honoured that I got an enthusiastic ‘yes’. I’m sure this sentiment is shared by many makers, whatever gift they are making.

Shetland fine openwork, a knitted lace, seems to have emerged with the beginning of the reign of Queen Victoria, who championed and popularised the craft. It was probably spread from the Isle of Unst to other parts of Shetland. What surprised me the most when I first read about it was that Shetland shawls and other lace pieces were largely exported as luxury items and rarely worn by islanders themselves. Women bought yarn from spinners and knitted mostly in their homes. They then took them to local merchants and exchange the finished objects for goods or (commonly after the 1880s) money to supplement the household income. The ‘supplement’ nature of this work probably means it was not compensated as much as a job outside the home would be for the same hours and skills. Besides, it was not always easy to spin an even 1-ply yarn at 1600 metres per 100 grams. For a piece of knitting with a large ‘plain’ area (i.e. only knit stitches), the unevenness was impossible to hide but could only be discovered after the area was worked. Then the maker had to either frog (unravel) the area or continue with the risk of the whole piece not being able to sell.

Whilst it is very reasonable to point out that Shetland ladies did not usually wear this type of lace (I’ve been to the Scottish Highlands once, in summer, and it was not fine lace weather), I imagine that at least for some, it wasn’t just about making money. Some sort of fulfilment must have been from the satisfaction of having a piece ‘properly done’ by continuing and adapting a traditional pattern, technique or material. I think this sort of satisfaction is also why many modern knitters are willing to spend hundreds of hours on lacework.

Intricate handknitted lace items can still be bought today (a quick search on Etsy would show many are form eastern European countries with a long and prominent craft tradition), but many are knitted for friends or family members. It always makes me so happy to see people share the gifts they have made, whether big or small, simple or complex. I joke with my online craft friends that no handmade fibre project can claim to be so unless they have a hair or two woven into it. It is the proof of existence for the maker, who tries to go against the irregular nature of handicrafts and, at the same time, accepts it. It is about wrapping up hours, weeks or months in one’s life, along with the songs they have listened to and the perfume they have worn and the memories they have made, and putting it squarely in someone else’s hands and saying: ‘All this, for you.’

A Wedding Shawl

I have not read anything about there being a standard form of ‘wedding shawl’ in the Shetland tradition. However, there is definitely a category of square shawls with similar sizes and a few construction methods. The samples I’ve seen mostly measure 1.5-2m on one side and have three parts: a central panel, four borders and a strip of edging. It is worked flat in garter lace from centre out.

Neither is there a standardised yarn weight. A widely available yarn is the Shetland Supreme Lace Weight 1-ply by Jamieson and Smith, which weighs at 400m/25g. The Queen Ring Shawl examined by Sharon Miller used a yarn at 700m/25g. From my experience, if you want the shawl to be a true ring shawl (i.e. you want to be able to pull the shawl through a ring) at the size of the Queen Ring Shawl (210cm on the side), go for 700m/25g or finer.

I chose a rectangular shawl because I had very limited time, but I did enlarge it because for me, an abundance of fabric does mean an abundance of cozy happiness.

Pattern

Shell Grid and Spider Webs Puzzle, pattern No.19 in the book Shetland Knitting Lace by Toshiyuki Shimada.

The names of the motifs are confusing. One motif (or two highly similar motifs) might just have two different names if they are produced in two different regions. Names do not mean everything, but I’ve had fun trying to match the motifs with names according to this article by Carol Christiansen at the Shetland Museum.

The double yarnovers (YO's) in the diamonds were called Cat's Eye, but perhaps the 'Spider Web' in the pattern name is referring to the three rows of double YO's in the centre panel. It has a really simple but effective edging.

Yarn

Mermaid Lace, in colourway #naturel, sold by Great British Wool in the Netherlands. This yarn is 75% merino and 25% sea algae silk. ‘Sea algae silk’ seems to be a semi-synthetic plant fibre like viscose, with algae involved as part of the raw material. (At this price point I don’t think it has anything to do with sea silk, which is fibre produced by actual shells.) The brand name for the most popular product of its type is probably Seacell.

I bought the yarn, because I had never worked with this fibre before and was curious. What I like: it was a little cheaper than a wool/silk blend and has blocked very well. The whole skein was continuous so I didn’t have to deal with a single yarn joint. What I do not like: it lacks the sheen and smoothness of real silk and doesn’t feel as strong, although it doesn’t shed. In conclusion, I’d rather use a traditional Shetland 1-ply or another natural fibre yarn.

It's also worth mentioning that whilst I prefer to support small businesses, it was disappointing to have received a 93-gram skein when I had ordered 100 grams. It was one of those days between Christmas and the New Year and I somehow did not contact the customer service, but I really should have.

Needle

2.5mm 80cm circular needles. See modification below.

Modification

This Japanese knitting book follows Japanese sizing for knitting needles. The suggested size was no. 1=2.4mm. I figured that I could use a 2.5mm since I knitted on the tighter side, and in any case it was probably okay to make the lacework a little more open by going up a needle size.

I am not going to give out the pattern, but it is probably necessary to explain the structure of this shawl. The centre is knitted first, and then an edging is knitted onto it by picking up either live stitches or the vertical edge of the centre as you go (see schematic below). The four ‘corners’ of the edging have short-row shaping to help it lay flat. I know that traditionally people can achieve this by other methods, but I haven’t tried any of those yet.

I enlarged the pattern by increasing both the width and the length. I casted on 133 stitches instead of 101 for the centre panel and knitted Part B 8.5 times instead of 5.5. The spider web pattern in Part B requires the stitch count to be (something dividable by four) plus two, so I made one central increase before the spider web to get 134 and a central decrease after it to get it back to 133. Due to the openness of the lace, the change of one stitch is not visible.

The enlargement meant I had to recalculate the edging as well, because the number of stitches available for pick-up changed. Originally, at each corner you do two repeats with four short-row shaping each. I did 1.5 repeats following the original placement of short-row shaping in order to make the total number of repeats fit the number of edge stitches on the centre panel.

The pattern says to Kitchener-stitch the last row of the edging to the provisional cast-on. It just didn’t make sense because that would be two rows too much (the Kitchener stitch row plus the provisional cast-on row). To make the number perfectly fit, I knitted only ten rows of the last repeat (there were usually twelve in each repeat). Then I Kitchener-stitched the end to the provisional cast-on, following the lace pattern. I am quite proud of this solution because it is completely invisible.

Somewhere in the pattern it said to purl (looking from the right side). It seemed strange because the rest of the lace was entirely garter. I knitted those stitches and so far I haven’t sensed a ‘mistake’.

The pattern originally calls for 45 grams of yarn. I estimated (based on the increase of stitches in the centre panel) to need about 80 grams. I ended up using 86 grams. Besides the inaccuracies in my estimation, it was probably also because I knitted much more loosely than expected as it was difficult to tension the yarn tightly at such a weight. Like I've point out in the Yarn section above, I was lucky not to have needed more than 93 grams.

The original finished size is 53*118cm. I ended up with approximately 70*170cm.

Conclusion

This shawl took about three months of my craft time i.e. one full day every week for three months and many mornings before I had to leave for university. Knitting outside my room just didn’t work because I was a) engaged in some other activities that made it difficult to steady my hands, and b) worried about putting a white shawl on any public surface.

The pattern itself is relatively straightforward. The first difficulty was, of course, to understand the instruction written in Japanese. Google translate was horrible so I had to rely on my knitting experience. Fortunately, much of the text description was also found in graphs and charts. Then I had to get my hands used to the tiny yarn. After that, it was only fiddly when I did the edging, because I had to turn about every twelve stitches, and by that time I was handling a giant cloud of stitches on my lap. It did give me a lot of time to go over my favourite documentaries and films, and the last bit of edging was surprisingly quick!

Traditionally, Shetland shawls could be sent back to the maker for maintenance. I think it only fair for me to offer that too because I don’t want a gift to become a trouble (same as how you do not use non-machine-washable yarn for baby knits).

In general, I am very pleased with this shawl. It does pass the ring test, despite not being a traditional wedding shawl size or thickness. I do have a whole lot of actual Shetland 1-ply in my stash, so I am really looking forward to taking my Queen Ring Shawl project out of hibernation in the near future.

Reference list for Introduction

Christiansen, Carol. Shetland fine lace knitting: Recreating patterns from the past. Marlborough: Crowood, 2024.

Mann, Joanna. 'Knitting the Archive: Shetland Lace and Ecologies of Skilled Practice'. Cultural Geographies 25, no. 1 (January 28, 2017): 91–106. https://doi.org/10.1177/1474474016688911.

#knitting #knitblr #shetland lace #lace knitting #gift-knitting #stories

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bellybuttonbooks · 1 month ago

Text

THE SIXTH | Ekko x Fem!OC

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Rest of the fanfic can be found here.

SUMMARY:

Shimmer is back. Two years after the war with Noxus has ended, a new gangster emerges within the undercity, now known as 'Zaun'.

Daunter is a ruthless chem-baron who has reformed the city's drug empire. He refloods the streets with shimmer and gains the title 'Silco's Heir'.

The Firelights are back in commission after two years of lax, taking down exports just like the days when Silco was still alive.

When the group arrives at an export and finds it already taken down with the barrels drained of shimmer, it becomes apparent that Daunter and his gang aren't the only ones they need to look out for. They had competition. Or... did they?

Ekko finds himself involved in a seemingly endless cat-and-mouse chase with another gang leader-a woman who moves like the wind. He wants to know what her motives are, but he has to catch her first.

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CHAPTER ONE:

- Zaun, two years after the conclusion of Arcane

"Fuck—"

It happened again. Their mission had been sabotaged, just like before. Someone had arrived before he and the Firelights had gotten there, Daunter's goons paralyzed and tied up, the barrels drained of shimmer.

Daunter was Zaun's newest chem baron—and currently it's biggest. He reintroduced shimmer to the Lanes, reflooding the streets with the purple drug.

After Silco had died and the undercity got caught up in a battle with Piltover and Noxus, shimmer had been mostly exterminated by Caitlyn and her enforcers. It still lingered in the black market, but mass exports ceased to exist. Until a few months ago, that is. Daunter crept in like slow-forming shadows caused by a rising moon. In increments so small that no one noticed until everything was drenched in its darkness.

This forced the Firelights back into action. But now, there seemed to be someone else who was intent on interrupting Daunter's operations. Ekko would have accepted the help if it wasn't for the fact that they'd taken the shimmer. He couldn't help but suspect that the culprit had ill intentions, and that put them at odds with the Firelights.

"Looks like we got competition," a distorted voice said from beside him.

Ekko turned his head to look at the masked face of Scar, a tall chirean who served as his Lieutenant and second in command. Chireans held bat-like appearances (minus the wings), with large ears, grey-toned skin, bat-like noses, and neon green eyes.

Both men stood atop a nearby roof, out of hearing distance of the restrained goons on the cargo airship.

"More like another enemy," Ekko responded.

Scar processed his leader's remark before speaking again. "You think they got bad intentions?"

"They're up to no good if they're stealing shimmer. Probably selling it themselves to make bank," he said pointedly.

Scar took in Ekko's words. It made sense and sounded like the most likely scenario. Though, one thing stood out to him.

"Why would they tie em' up? They already have em' paralyzed somehow. It's like they're leaving 'em here for someone to arrest or something."

Ekko considered this but had already thought up a reason. "The paralysis might not last long. Could be a precaution."

Scar nodded, agreeing that his reasoning seemed plausible.

"What should we do? Seems we keep missing 'em. Should we put out scouters across the city?"

Ekko exhaled through his nose, mulling over Scar's suggestion. It did sound like a good idea, but he had to also consider the risks. He didn't want to put his people in danger. This wouldn't be like their typical 'element of surprise' mission. This would involve spying, waiting, and watching—usually from the shadows to avoid detection. Despite this, Ekko had faith in the Firelights.

"Yeah. Could assign shifts. But we still need to keep most of our numbers back at the hideout in case of any surprise missions."

Scar agreed. Daunter was becoming more and more unpredictable, and there were times when they had to act quickly, creating plans with only hours to spare.

The conversation between the men ended there and Ekko mounted his aeroglider. He flew over to the transport ship and hopped off the board, sliding it behind his back to attach to the magnetic piece on his coat. He neared Daz, one of the newer Firelights.

Daz was a little on the shorter side, his body mass nothing impressive. But he was quick, and that made up for his size.

"You find anything useful? Anything they might've left behind?"

Daz stood from his crouching position. "Nothing. But this guy says that it was a bunch of people dressed in black wearing cloaks," he said.

The younger male nudged the oversized goon who was laying on the boarded floors of the airship with his booted foot.

Ekko's eyes narrowed in thought from the goon's revelation. He crouched down, deciding to take questioning the brute into his own hands.

"Did you see any faces? Anything?"

Daunter's ruffian shook his head, his double chin jigging as he did so.

"I was lucky to even see 'em in the first place. Bastards were quick as shit, bouncin' all over the place like a bunch 'a damn shimmer addicts."

Ekko stared down at the overweight man for a few moments before standing.

'Was it possible that whoever had done this was also consuming the drug to give themselves a physical advantage?'

Authoritative voices sounded from the distance, pulling him from his thoughts and signaling him and the other firelights that enforcers were nearby. Ekko yanked his aeroglider from behind his back once again, hopping onto it before instructing the other Firelights to follow him out of there.

The group flew to their hideout, flickers of green trails decorating the air behind them as they moved.

The Firelight hideout was impressive—only accessible through a labyrinth of abandoned sewer pipes. He and his people had the pipes memorized by now, knowing exactly where to go to reach the entrance. The entrance was covered by a heavy, circular piece of metal—resembling that of a manhole cover. It rolled to the side, allowing them access.

Each time Ekko walked through the gate, he was struck with amazement at what he had accomplished so far. He had created a community in the last ten years, having found a large tree growing from the deep, dark depths of Zaun—a miracle, but also a symbol of hope. He had built himself a home, a sanctuary, and shared it with the people of the undercity that had been affected by the shimmer epidemic and the victims of the battle. He was proud of himself, and the people who had joined him in forming the Firelights. They had done well.

During the war, they'd almost lost the tree. Well, they had lost the tree. The corruption from the hexcore had bled into the roots of their tree, causing the leaves to become tainted in wild rune markings before ultimately falling off. But using the knowledge he had learned in the other timeline he'd been teleported to, Ekko was able to form a time bubble around the hideout, reversing time in sphere they'd created but no where else. After ensuring no one was in the bubble, Ekko was able to bring the tree back to its former condition—before his mural had been painted on it.

Before the war, he'd vanished for months, leaving the Firelight no choice but to assume his death. They painted his face on the mural. It was a chilling thing to see once he'd returned; a symbol of his own death that hadn't occurred. A bad omen.

He had lost people throughout his twenty-three years of life—too many people. He carried the memories of his fallen friends with him and honored their memory by having a mural painted on the tall walls of the sewer, colourful portraits of the people who had passed on. It added to the surrealness of their hideout, while also ensuring who they've lost remained with them in, watching over them as they worked, lived, and thrived underneath their still gaze.

His eyes skimmed over the mural; Vi, Powder, Claggor, Mylo, Momo, Chip, Kurt, Jal, Eve, Radar, Heimerdinger, Jinx, and the most recent addition—Ajuna.

He lowered his gaze and walked to his room. It was located in one of the higher structures of the tree. Usually, he would use his hoverboard to fly there, but he decided to take the long way so that he could think on the way there. Plus, the exercise wouldn't hurt. He began his venture up the lengthy stairs, his mind occupied as he did so.

He soon reached his destination, pushing open the door before closing it behind him again after stepping inside.

His room was clean, but also messy. His bed was made, which was something he forced himself to do every morning. It was a twin bed that lined the back right corner of the room. Opposite the bed was his workbench, where the mess began. It was a disorganized madness, but it was his madness, and it worked for him. He was an inventor, a prodigy and a genius, as his parents called him. The workbench was evidence of his success and failures. His tools scattered across the wooden surface, grooves beginning to form in the shape of his fingers from how often he used them. Pieces of scrap lined the walls next to the desk, things he refused to throw out because he was determined to find a use for them some day.

The wall behind his desk was littered with plans, blueprints, diagrams—either of inventions he had already made, planned to make, or things he still hadn't finished planning yet. Next to the bed was his desk. It was situated underneath a curtained window. That was where some of the mission planning took place. He was the leader, and he was the one who created intricate plans for his team to embark on (with some help from Scar at times).

Ekko yanked his aeroglider from his back and rested it against the leg of his workbench before shedding his graffitied coat and folding it over his work chair. He removed his mask and placed it on his desk before sitting in his chair.

His mind was tossing and turning, thinking back to their wrecked mission. It was clear that the Firelights had another enemy to deal with now, as if Daunter and his gang weren't enough. He worried about what this might mean for their future undertakings, what confronting the group would be like, what their leader was like—if they even had one. They most likely did. They wouldn't have been able to pull off such swift heists if they didn't.

Ekko exhaled and willed his troubled thoughts to leave with his breath. He needed to focus. Make a schedule. Make a plan. He pulled out some parchment and leaned over his desk, getting to work.

Weeks passed, and the Firelights had no luck with spotting the culprits. Whoever they were, they knew what they were doing. That and any physical altercations made using shimmer made them dangerously fast foes.

Ekko stood atop a roof, his mask adorning his face and the hood pulled over his head. He held his hoverboard to his side, having just landed. The building he was situated on was positioned along one of the main routes for Daunter's shimmer exports.

At this hour, the city was dark but also illuminated by the lights within its buildings. It was pretty, no one could deny that. Pink and green light outlined its contents, adding to its nighttime radiance. It was a contrast to the dank stench that polluted their air.

He lingered on the roof for a while, hoping to spot some movement.

His scouting shift was ending. His body was tense with anticipation and eagerness that didn't seem to dissipate as the time ticked well beyond when he should have gone home. This mystery had been bothering him since the first time they came across an empty transport about a month ago. He couldn't understand how he and the Firelights kept missing them. How this mysterious group of people in black seemed to be getting away with it. Right now, all he knew was that he would not rest until he figured it out, and then took care of it by taking them down.

A flicker of movement occurred from the top right of his peripheral. In a flash his head wagged in the direction, his focus zooming in on it. There. He could see a very faint outline of what looked like the side of someone, the rest of them drenched in inky shadows. They stood upon a roof in the near distance. When Ekko moved onto the other side of the roof he was standing on, he noticed that there were other figures standing with the initial one he had noticed. It had to be them.

He knew that he'd have to stay hidden and quiet. He was outnumbered by people who had unknown capabilities. Instead of confronting them, he would follow them. Watch them and their moves, learn their techniques, inspect them for any weaknesses, and figure out who was leading them.

He put his aeroglider on his back, knowing that the green lights on it would immediately reveal his location—especially in the darkness of the night. He would have to move on foot. He wasn't exactly skilled in moving stealthily. His boots always felt too heavy, his breathing too loud—especially behind his mask. Despite this, he was determined to pursue the group. He'd been chasing nothing but possibilities for weeks. The possibility that he might spot them. The possibility of learning more about them. The possibility of the Firelights having the capability to take them down. He was sick of unanswered questions, and if slinking into the shadows like some kind of damn ninja was what he had to do to get them, then so be it.

When they moved, he moved, trying to mask any footsteps or sounds he made with theirs. So far, it seemed they were moving aimlessly. They headed in every which direction, making quick yet precise movements. Ekko was almost in awe. This group moved with grace and excellence. They used acrobatics and parkour together, the combination of the two giving the group a unique advantage in means of travel and stealth.

Ekko was able to see that the group consisted of about 6 people, with one of them leading the lot. He could see that they were indeed adorned in black attire, which included black cloaks. Any other physical details remained a blur due to their continuous motion.

The leader seemed to lead the group to some sort of abandoned warehouse. It had long since been cleared out of its storage—Ekko and the Firelights having raided it once after Squirt, one of the older members of the gang, spotted it during a mission.

Ekko kept himself tucked away in a nearby alley, sparing only a few glances as he saw the group circle on the concrete clearing in front of the warehouse. As he glanced over the corner, he noticed there was one fewer than before. Before he could even begin wondering what happened to them, he felt an abrupt poke on the back of his neck, directly in the center. In seconds he was crumbling to the ground, his own body refusing to listen to his brain signals that demanded he move. He lay there helplessly, now at the complete mercy of this group that he knew nothing about. He tested his eyes, seeing if he could glance around and blink. He could. He tried opening his mouth. He could. But that was it.

His eyes caught sight of the person who had managed to take him down in mere seconds without him even knowing they were there. They were small—a small female. She was dressed in all black besides a crimson scarf wrapped around her neck. He couldn't see her face because she was wearing a black half mask that covered her nose and mouth, and tinted goggles that covered her eyes. One of the most prominent things he noticed was how long and bushy her hair was. She had it tied in a low ponytail and the ends of it reached all the way to her ankles.

'There's no way that was the ideal way to keep her hair during outings like these,' Ekko thought. It reminded him of Pow—Jinx. Long hair. Always getting in the way when she fought. He felt his heart clench, but he banished the impending memories that threatened to come forth. He didn't have time to think about that now.

"You've been following us," the woman said, her voice firm and yet soft at the same time.

She began circling him, sizing him up before coming to a stop near his head. She squatted down beside him, her head tilting to the side as she looked over his masked face.

"And you've been stealing shimmer to do who knows what with."

Her head tilted to the other side as she listened to him respond in the distorted voice caused by his mask. "What of it? You want some?" Her voice was muffled by the material of her mask.

He scoffed, disgust filling him and lacing his voice with venom as he spoke. "So, you do make profit off it."

She didn't respond to that. Instead, she gripped the edges of his mask and began to tug it off. When she felt a resistance, she reached into his hood and unsnapped the fastens and then tried again.

Ekko could do nothing to stop her as she revealed his face to the night air.

She gave him a good stare down, as if memorizing every facial feature he had. She reached a hand down to him, her fingers making gentle contact with the hourglass marking on his forehead and nose.

Ekko would have jolted away from her touch if he wasn't paralyzed.

She traced along the edges of the marking with two of her fingers, her movements slow and deliberate. After pulling her hand away, she stared down at him some more, almost like she was contemplating something. "What does it mean?"

Ekko's mouth parted, confusion and bewilderment striking him from her abrupt question. He couldn't even think of forming an answer to that question, too caught off guard by it.

"Nothing? Just thought the shape was cool, huh?" She stood, his mask still pinched between her fingers.

"This thing is neat. Did you make it yourself?" She turned the mask over in her hands and held it up, getting a closer look at the neon pink 'x' painting on the front of it and then looking at the mechanics on the inside that made the wearer's voice distorted.

"What did you do to me? I can't move."

She looked from his mask and down at him again as she ignored her question. She seemed to pause, as if stunned by the sound of his actual voice that was no longer disguised by his mask.

"It's temporary. It'll wear off in an hour or so."

Ekko's eyes widened. "An hour? Stuck like this? With you?"

She snickered. "Hey, you're the one who was following us. I had to make sure you weren't a threat." She bent forward and gazed down at him; her eyes still hidden behind the goggles she wore. "So, are you? A threat, I mean."

Ekko swallowed. "Depends. I don't know you, or what your intentions are. I'm only a threat to those who are a threat to me," he said.

"Well, that's quite the predicament. We don't know your intentions, and you don't know ours." She stood up straight before continuing. "But you were the one following us. That's not very nice, y'know."

Ekko could feel her words ignite annoyance within him like a flame touching gas.

"I had my reasons," he retorted matter-of-factly.

The girl turned around, hiding her face from view before pulling down her mask and removing her goggles from her eyes, leaving them resting on her head like a headband. Then she put on his mask. It was too big for her, but she kept it on, nonetheless.

Ekko became enraged. "Take it off, now." His voice was angered and demanding.

She snickered again, this time teasingly as she turned around to show him her face now covered by his own mask.

"No, I don't think I will." Her voice came out distorted now, and it only added to Ekko's fury.

Before Ekko could make a response, she moved quickly out of his peripheral. And suddenly, she was atop the roof of one of the buildings lining the alleyway. She gave him a taunting wave before dashing away.

Ekko could hear her voice in the distance as she ordered the group to head back.

'So, she's their leader.'

Ekko mulled over that fact for a few seconds until he realized that he was now left in the alleyway, defenseless. She had left him there paralyzed and alone, completely vulnerable to any possible thugs in the area.

"Shit—"

Just as the word left his mouth, she returned to her spot on the roof. He watched her plop down, her short legs dangling over the ledge. He could hear her muffled, distorted snicker.

'Bitch.'

"Don't worry, I'll babysit you until you can move again."

Ekko blinked, confusion dousing him from her odd intentions.

"Why?"

"To make sure no one hurts you silly," she replied, her oddly cheerful voice making the distortion effects of the mask glitch out. He heard her giggle.

He stared up at her in disbelief. "You wouldn't have to do that if you hadn't paralyzed me in the first place."

"And I wouldn't have had to paralyze you if you hadn't been following us in the first place."

She had a point, and he knew it, But he also knew he was justified for following them. He needed to know what their intentions were.

"What are you doing with the shimmer that you've been stealing?" He knew his question was a long shot, but at this point he didn't have anything to lose.

"That's for me to know, and for you... To not know."

This woman was infuriating.

"Then I have no choice but to assume that you're selling it for profit. You're just continuing to add to the problems of the undercity. How do you live with yourself? Contributing to the pain and suffering of other people for the sake of coins."

She seemed to pause at his words, like she was thinking carefully before responding. "You're quick to assume things, huh?"

Ekko watched as she crossed her arms over her chest, her head still tilted downwards as she stared at him through his mask from her perch on the roof ledge.

"What choice do I have when you won't give me anything."

She hummed. "Touche."

Ekko could feel pins and needles erupt in the tips of his fingers and toes. The paralysis was starting to wear off. He decided to keep this information to himself. Maybe he could try and get her to come down here and strike after the paralysis had completely worn off without her knowledge.

"How'd you do this? You poked me and suddenly I'm all paralyzed and helpless."

He heard her make a noise of amusement, hinting that she was probably smirking behind his mask.

"More questions?

He rolled his eyes. "Are you gonna answer this one?"

She shook her head in amusement, and Ekko watched in astonishment as she stood and flipped into the air, landing on the ground right beside his head with absolute grace.

'She just flipped off a god damn building.'

He had to admit, that was impressive as hell. He'd lived in the undercity his whole life, and many kids grew up learning how to do parkour, but nothing like this. Sure, he could do his own mid-air flip, but his landings were far from as graceful and quiet as hers. It was like she was a dancer or something.

She squatted next to his head again, peering down at him like before but this time behind his mask.

"How about we swap secrets, yeah? You tell me what this means—" She paused and then poked the white marking on his forehead and nose. "—And I tell you how I made you 'all paralyzed and helpless'."

Ekko was taken aback. She would really reveal something so valuable in exchange for something that was merely personal to him?

"It means a lot of things. It's shaped like an hourglass. I've always had a thing for time."

She made another amused sound—probably smirking again.

"That's it? You have a thing for time? No deep, mysterious meaning for painting a freaking hourglass on your face?"

"Guess so."

She stood and crossed her arms over her chest.

He was starting to get more feeling in his face now, and he didn't even notice when he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Who are you?" he asked her, not really expecting an answer.

She shook her head disapprovingly again before replying. "Another question? But I haven't even answered the other one yet," she pointed out jeeringly.

He grit his teeth. This teeny tiny woman had started a raging anger within him. She dodged questions, was sassy as shit, and she'd stolen his mask and was now wearing it just to piss him off.

She noticed when his eyebrows furrowed, hinting that he was regaining use of his muscles now. She took a step back but didn't fully retreat just yet, lingering behind for a moment to say something else.

"I thought you would've found another fascination by now. But nope, still obsessed with time, aren't you, Ekko?"

Ekko felt like he'd been abruptly drenched in ice-cold water. She spoke to him as if she knew him.

'Who the fuck is this person?'

His shock was evident on his face, and she immediately picked up on it.

In a blur of movements, he was suddenly standing, the paralysis having worn off by now. Despite his quickness, she had maneuvered out of the way and was now standing on the same ledge she had been sitting on minutes before.

"Who the fuck are you?! Tell me, God dammit!"

She was quiet and unmoving for a few moments, as if she was contemplating something.

"Toodaloo." She waved at him and laughed before disappearing.

He growled and pulled his aeroglider from his back, immediately mounting it and taking to the air. She couldn't have gotten too far. It took him only a few moments to spot her in the distance. She was fast—real fast. But he had his hoverboard, which made him faster. He flew his board in her direction, gaining momentum on her quickly.

He watched as she turned a corner abruptly. He quickly made the sharp turn, about to catch up to her when he was forced to come to a stop. She was gone.

He gained altitude, moving up higher to get a better map of the place. He looked around, but still couldn't find anything. She had quite literally vanished into thin air.

"Fuck!"

Rest of the fanfic can be found here.

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stoat-party · 1 year ago

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Fallout 4: Where is the Lone Wanderer?*

*a vague conspiracy theory which doesn’t actually answer the question at hand. We all have our own ideas of how the lore should go, and I’m sure yours is very canon-compliant and valid, but this is mine and I have support for it. Looooongpost.

First off: What do we know about the canon Wanderer?

We know they activated Project Purity (or had a companion do it) without the FEV and were inducted into the Brotherhood. We know they’ve met with MacCready (you can’t finish the game if you don’t), and he has dialogue indicating they had further contact. They also took the Brotherhood’s side at Adams Air Force Base.

We don’t know what happened with The Replicated Man, but since the canon Wanderer appears to have good karma, and info from 4 implies Zimmer’s disappearance was more recent than ten years ago, it seems likely they took the boring ending, which secures their membership in the Railroad.

Why aren’t they in Fallout 4?

The Doylist answer is that they’re highly customizable, and so they have no canon appearance, personality, gender, etc. But in-universe? Something happened.

“Accepting outsiders like yourself has proven disastrous in the past.” - Kells

“I've seen other soldiers come and go. Some were brave, some were honest... hell, some were even downright heroic.” - Danse

“Every doctor I've talked to was worthless. [] I don't need them... I need someone like you.” - MacCready

When Duncan first got sick, “someone like you” would have meant the Wanderer. This suggests (to me) that they’re not in the Capital Wasteland anymore. But they’re certainly not in the Commonwealth either.

The weird thing is that the Lone Wanderer is all over this game - they’re the namesake for a male hairstyle, a perk, a DCR song, a motorcycle brand… and the codename of Deacon’s mission to save the Railroad from certain destruction by recruiting the Sole Survivor.

Someday We’ll Find It, the Deacon Connection

Oh yeah, I’m going here. Desdemona’s terminal entries confirm it was always Deacon’s plan to get you onboard and use you to destroy the Institute. There are Railroad lookout posts near 111/Sanctuary and Red Rocket, and of course he followed you in Goodneighbor, Diamond City, and Bunker Hill (at least). His court jester vibe hides it a bit, but he’s manipulating you more than he’s manipulating Desdemona in the intro scene. And do you notice he rarely gives you a firm verbal disapproval unless you’re hurting the Railroad?

What could have caused Deacon’s interest in you, unless he’s made the connection between you and the Lone Wanderer? He’ll vouch for you if you haven’t accomplished anything yet, or even if you’re a Brotherhood member. A Pip-Boyed stranger emerges from a vault in the middle of a crisis, gaining friends, skills, items, and special abilities at a suspicious rate? Probably with the same gender and playstyle as the previous one? Heck, when he first heard the rumors, he probably thought you WERE the Lone Wanderer.

There are other indications the Railroad has been in contact with them — Desdemona mentions the Capital Wasteland as their primary destination for synths, and Deacon references Harkness’s recall code. If you refuse to pick a codename, Desdemona even assigns you “Wanderer.”

So what happened, then?

I think the answer lies with the Brotherhood, specifically in Deacon’s hatred of them. Sure, ideology is enough to hate them for, but Deacon sure seems suspiciously happy if you nuke their base of operations. (Some of) his comments on that:

“The Brotherhood... well, I met them on an op in Capital Wasteland a few years back. But now with Elder Maxson... Let's just say, not a fan.”

“That bastard Maxson really screwed them up. The Brotherhood used to be the good guys. Well, goodish.”

[Who’s Elder Maxson?] “He’s a piece of work, is what he is.”

And on his time in the Capital:

“Did I ever tell you about the time I was in Capital Wasteland? Now there's a tale.”

“Capital Wasteland. Exports: purified water, some decent tech, oh, and an insane suicidal cult that worships radiation. Thanks, guys.”

“I miss Capital Wasteland. You can actually drink the water there.”

And a few lines I’ve decided (with no evidence) directly refer to LW:

“Last partner I had wound up going... well, a little insane. I think it was all my show tune medleys.”

[After Maxson orders you to hunt Danse down] “See? This is what the Brotherhood's really about.”

And my favorite: “I’ve been looking forward to kicking the Brotherhood’s teeth in. I owe them.” This line comes before Glory is killed, so he’s not referring to that. The Brotherhood only recently arrived in force in the Commonwealth. He’s talking about something that happened in the Capital Wasteland.

So Here’s What Might Have Happened:

In early 2286, Deacon moves to the Capitol Wasteland for awhile, probably to get a face change and lay low for a bit. He contacts the Lone Wanderer, who has barely heard from the Railroad in nine years. They begin to work together.

(In context, this journal entry looks like he’s somehow gathering intel to predict when Vault 111 will open, but I can’t think of a way for him to get that information or know why it’s important, so I’m not going to believe it just yet.)

The Wanderer is still a knight, maybe a paladin. Maxson has been elder for 2-3 years and is monitoring the Institute. Meanwhile, the Lone Wanderer and Deacon are setting up infrastructure to receive escaped synths.

And then the Brotherhood finds out about one of the safehouses. With their limited understanding, they believe that the Institute is holed up there and attack. The Wanderer intentionally throws the mission — maybe disobeys orders, maybe downs a vertibird or collapses a subway tunnel, or maybe even attacks their brothers to protect the synths.

And, well-

Either they were killed, or they escaped court martial and execution by a hair’s breadth and fled the Capital, leaving Deacon to believe Maxson had them killed.

There you have it. That’s why they aren’t in Brotherhood dialogue or records. Their accomplishments couldn’t be recognized because they’re a traitor. And that’s why it’s personal for Deacon.

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najia-cooks · 1 year ago

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[ID: A purplish-grey stew topped with olive oil and garnished with piles of pomegranate seeds. Plates of green peppers, bitter olives, olive oil, taboon bread, green onions, radishes, and za'tar surround the dish. The second image is a close-up of the same stew. End ID]

رمانية / Rummāniyya (Palestinian pomegranate stew)

Rummaniyya (رُمَّانِيَّة; also transliterated "rumaniyya," "rummaniya," and "rummaniyeh") is a Palestinian stew or dip made from lentils, eggplant, and pomegranate seeds, flavored with nutty red tahina and a zesty, spicy دُقَّة (dugga) of dill seeds, garlic, and peppers. A طشة (ṭsha), or tempering, of olive oil and onion or garlic is sometimes added.

"Rummaniyya," roughly "pomegranate-y," comes from رُمَّان‎ ("rummān") "pomegranate," plus the abstract noun suffix ـِيَّة ("iyya"); the dish is also known as حبّة رُمَّانَة ("ḥabbat rommāna"), or "pomegranate seeds." It is a seasonal dish that is made at the end of summer and the beginning of fall, when pomegranates are still green, unripe, and sour.

This stew is considered to be one of the most iconic, historic, and beloved of Palestinian dishes by people from Gaza, Yaffa, and Al-Ludd. Pomegranates—their seeds, their juice, and a thick syrup made from reducing the juice down—are integral to Palestinian cuisine and heritage, and images of them abound on ceramics and textiles. Pomegranates and their juice are sold from street carts and cafes in the West Bank and Gaza.

Today, tens of thousands of tons of pomegranates are grown and harvested by Israeli farmers on stolen Palestinian farmland; about half of the crop is exported, mainly to Europe. Meanwhile, Palestinians have a far easier time gaining permits to work on Israeli-owned farms than getting permission from the military to work land that is ostensibly theirs. These restrictions apply within several kilometers of Israel's claimed borders with Gaza and the West Bank, some of the most fertile land in the area; Palestinian farmers working in this zone risk being injured or killed by military fire.

Israel further restricts Palestinians' ability to work their farms and export crops by imposing tariffs, unexpectedly closing borders, shutting down and contaminating water supplies, spraying Palestinian crops with pesticides, bulldozing crops (including eggplant) when they are ready to be harvested, and bombing Palestinian farmland and generators. Though Palestinian goods have local markets, the sale of Palestinian crops to Israel was forbidden from 2007 to 2014 (when Israel accepted shipments of goods including tomato and eggplant).

Gazans have resisted these methods by disregarding orders to avoid the arable land near Israel's claimed borders, continuing to forage native plants, growing new spices and herbs for export, planting hydroponic rooftop gardens, crushing chalk and dried eggplants to produce calcium for plants, using fish excrement as fertilizer, creating water purification systems, and growing plants in saltwater. Resisting Israeli targeting of Palestinian food self-sufficiency has been necessary for practical and economic reasons, but also symbolizes the endurance of Palestinian culture, history, and identity.

Support Palestinian resistance by calling Elbit System's (Israel's primary weapons manufacturer) landlord; donating to Palestine Action's bail fund; and buying an e-Sim for distribution in Gaza.

Serves 6-8.

Ingredients:

For the stew:

1 medium eggplant (370g)

1 cup brown lentils (عدس اسود)

600g pomegranate seeds (to make 3 cups juice)

3 Tbsp all-purpose flour

1/4 cup red tahina

1/2 cup olive oil

Salt, to taste

Citric acid (ملح الليمون / حامِض ليمون) (optional)

Red tahina may be approximated with home cooking tools with the above-linked recipe; you may also toast white tahina in a skillet with a little olive oil, stirring often, until it becomes deeply golden brown.

For the دُقَّة (dugga / crushed condiment):

2 tsp cumin seeds, or ground cumin

1 1/2 Tbsp dill seeds ("locust eye" بذور الشبت / عين جرادة)

5 cloves garlic

1 green sweet pepper (فلفل بارد اخضر)

2 dried red chilis (فلفل شطة احمر)

People use red and green sweet and chili peppers in whatever combination they have on hand for this recipe; e.g. red and green chilis, just green chilis, just red chilis, or just green sweet peppers. Green sweet peppers and red chilis are the most common combination.

For the طشة (Tsha / tempering) (optional):

Olive oil

1 Tbsp minced garlic

Instructions:

1. Rinse and pick over lentils. In a large pot, simmer lentils, covered, in enough water to cover for about 8 minutes, or until half-tender.

2. Meanwhile, make the dugga by combining all ingredients in a mortar and pestle or food processor, and grinding until a coarse mixture forms.

Dugga and components.

3. Cube eggplant. A medium-sized eggplant may be cut in half lengthwise (through the root), each half cut into thirds lengthwise, then cubed widthwise.

Cubed eggplant, red tahina, and pomegranate seeds.

4. Add eggplant to simmering water (there is no need to stir).

5. While the eggplant cooks, blend pomegranate seeds in a blender very thoroughly. Strain to remove any gritty residue. Whisk flour into pomegranate juice.

Pomegranate juice being strained.

6. Taste your pomegranate juice. If it is not sour, add a pinch of citric acid or a splash of lemon juice and stir.

7. Add dagga to the pot with the lentils and eggplant and stir. Continue to simmer until the eggplant is very tender and falling apart.

8. Add pomegranate juice, tahina, and olive oil to the pot, and simmer for another 5 minutes, or until stew is very thick and homogenous.

Bright pink pomegranate juice in stockpot.

9. (Optional) In a small skillet, heat a little olive oil on medium. Fry minced garlic, stirring constantly, until golden brown. Add into the pot and stir.

10. (Optional) Mash the stew with the bowl of a ladle or a bean masher to produce a more homogenous texture.

Serve rummaniyya hot or cold in individual serving bowls. It may be served as an appetizer, or as a main dish alongside flatbread, olives, and fresh vegetables such as radishes, green peppers, green onions, carrots, and romaine lettuce. It may be eaten with a spoon, or by using كماج (kmāj), a flatbread with an internal pocket, to scoop up each bite.

#Palestine #Israel #food #Palestinian #Gazan #eggplant #lentils #pomegranates #red tahina

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bejeweledblondie · 1 year ago

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You Don’t Send A Man To Do A Woman’s Job

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F! Reader

Summary: Heavily Inspired by the Fast Furious scene with Gal Gadot. While trying to figure out how to get intel on Makarov Y/N’s quick thinking & feminine ways help gain that intel much to surprise to Soap

Warnings: Sexual themes, seduction, mentions of female body parts

Being in the military definitely had it pitfalls sometimes it could mean sitting in a remote shack for days or even not having running water. But it definitely did have its perks. This was one of them. Drinking frozen Margaritas in the Bahamas Y/N, Soap, & Gaz all stood around a high top table staring at a group of Russians. They were given a tip that some of Makarov’s men were on vacation here. Soap & Gaz were bickering over what was the best way to gain intel off of them. Ghost & Captain Price were planted on the roof of the resort god forbid things went south.

“And how do you propose we do that? We can’t exactly just plant a device wherever we wanted to.” Soap replied with attitude. Gaz rolled his eyes & before he could even respond Price came over the radio.

“Oi knock it off you two!” He shouted. “Figure a plan out and let us know.” He sounded beyond frustrated & rightfully so. Y/N kept staring at them brainstorming ways she herself could be of assistance. Then she saw a very attractive blonde woman flirt with the armed guards outside of the cabana. It clearly drew attention to her & the the Russians invited her in. She plopped herself down onto one of their laps & accepted one of their drinks. A light bulb went off in her head.

“Guys.” She said trying to gain their attention. They started to bicker again & completely ignored her. “Soap? Gaz?” She tried again to no avail. “Fuck it, I’m going in Captain. Just make sure you’re recording their conversations.” She said into her hidden ear piece & whipped off her leopard coverup to reveal a cheeky red bikini. As she started to walk away both Soap & Gaz stopped talking.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap said. Ghost & Price both chucked at the expense of his reaction. Everyone knew Soap had a thing for you it was so incredibly painfully obvious to everyone except you. He couldn’t help but admire the way your bikini bottoms hugged your ass or the fact your toned legs stretched on for miles. He licked his lips at the sight.

As she walked towards the cabana she gained some unwanted attention from men scattered all over the pool, but it didn’t phase her. She was on a mission & was determined. Once she made it to the cabana she started to flirt with the armed guards. With her breasts pushed up in her bikini top & her famous smile she had gained the attention of one of the Russians.

“It’s fine Ivan, let the beautiful American woman in.” One of the men said. “Come sit.” He beckoned her to come in & sit down. She sat on the arm of his chair & he immediately grabbed a handful of her ass. Then he said made a remark to his friend in Russian about how good your ass felt. To his knowledge you had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. But after being part of the US Army’s psychological warfare division Russian was one of five language you knew.

Back at the high top, Soap was ready to fight the man who grabbed you. Gaz almost had to physically restrain him.

“Think of the mission, Soap.” He reminded him. Soap grumbled to himself & started to mope into his drink. Over the next hour she had gained some of the most important intel about weapons, imports, exports, hell the whole operation. Soon the Russians started to get up to excuse themselves for dinner.

The man she had been sitting with, whom she come to know as Andrei invited her to dinner. She accepted even though she wouldn’t be attending. A small piece of her felt bad for lying. But she quickly reminded herself these men were war criminals. They profited off of the murder of children, women, & families. Once all of them were gone she walked back over to the high top where Soap & Gaz were.

Soap took the time to take in the sight of her walking towards them. Her breasts bouncing with each step, & the way her hips swayed. He was undressing her with his eyes & imagined her without that damn red bikini. Once she reached the table she put the cover up back on covering her body.

“So how much intel did you gain?” Gaz asked.

“More then we needed.” She replied.

“I have to ask, how on the Earth did you accomplish that?” Soap asked. She turned to him & smirked.

“It’s easy MacTavish, you don’t send a man to do a woman’s job.” She replied.

#cod imagines #call of duty #cod masterlist #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #ghost x soap #soap cod #soap x reader #soap mctavish #johnny mactavish #ghost call of duty #soap call of duty #soapghost #captain mactavish #john mactavish #john mactavish x you #soap mactavish smut

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maluustrawberry · 8 months ago

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"My biggest treasure"

(Túlio X Fem!Reader X Miguel)

(The road to El Dorado fanfiction)

{Part. 1}

A/N: HOW NOBODY WROTE A FIC OF RTED?? Don't ask me why, but I really wanted to write a fic about them after watching again. (It's my favorite movie after The Emperor's New Groove) I was undecided which character to write (I love these two so much) so I decided to do both and you readers will decide, {Túlio X reader} will be a relationship between enemies to lovers and {Miguel X reader} will be friends to lovers. You who will decide, remembering that if there is any error, you can correct me. Good reading 🤗.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

It was just another normal day in Barcelona, Spain in 1519, and things weren't looking too good in the city, especially for Isaac, or rather Y/n. As we all know, we were still in the 16th century where theft and machismo were still commonplace. Y/n wasn't like the other women who accepted this quietly and whose only job was to serve her husband and look after the house. She liked to be free and not depend on anyone, earned her own money by disguising herself as a man to work on an export ship, it was her only way of earning money since women weren't allowed in jobs and especially jobs like these. She had to be a man to work and a woman to walk around quietly when she weren't working.

Today you'd find yourself at the market in the center of town, buying your things with the money you'd earned through your efforts, luckily in the eyes of others it was your "husband's" money.

You were at the fruit stand choosing apples to buy and take home, until a man bumped into you by "accident," he was thin, tall, wearing a blue shirt, his black hair was tied up in a ponytail:

“Sorry, Señorita.” The man said as soon as he bumped into her and continued on his way in a hurry.

You were a clever woman, and the way he bumped into you in such a hurry made you suspect what he was about. You quickly put your hand in the pocket of your dress where your money bag and your diary should have been, which was one of your most precious possessions, and unfortunately they were no longer there, the only thing that went through your mind was that you had been robbed by that man. It wasn't going to stay that way, you wasn't going to lose the money who had fought to get and the diary that belonged to your father:

“Hey! Come back here!”

You spoke to the thin man and he accelerated his steps. You had no choice but to go after him, passing through the crowd of people and not letting him out of your sight. As soon as you were out of the crowd, he started running and you ran after him. The brunette didn't expect you to react, after all he thought you were like all the women he'd stolen, little did he know that he'd messed with the wrong woman.

You kept running after him, turning corners and entering the streets where he passed, there was no point in calling the guards since there were none around, only the people around, but you knew that if you asked for help no one would help.

The thief had an idea to lose her. As soon as he turned the corner, he knocked over the barrel of fish when no one was watching, the ground was wet and sticky, as soon as you passed, you overbalanced because of the slippery ground, tried to hold on to the other barrel so as not to fall, but failed, the barrel containing dead fish spilled on you and making you slipped on the ground and fell. Luckily, no one was around, not even the vendor responsible for delivering the fish, the poor woman was all wet and stinking of dead fish. The thief watched the whole scene from seated on top of the wall and laughed:

“I wouldn't want to be in your shoes, lady. Looks like someone's going to have to pay for that...” The skinny brunette laughed and teased you by showing you the bag of money he had stolen in his hand. “...and you need a bath too.” He added, grimacing.

“You little fucking thief! You'll be dead when I get my hands on you!” She tried to get up, but slipped once again, drawing laughter from the man.

“Wow, I'm scared to death of a girl who stinks of fish.” He sneered as he analyzed the old diary in his hands.

“At least give that notebook back.” Y/n said angrily.

“There must be something very important in there for you to run after me and dirty yourself with dead fish over a notebook...”

He smiled and put the notebook in his pocket:

“Adiós.” He jumped over the other side of the wall, taking your notebook and your money.

You finally managed to get up, cursing that damned thief, you'd try to catch him next time, that's for sure. You were angry not only because you had lost your money but also your father's diary, in that diary there was a lot of information about the legendary city of El Dorado, your father was obsessed with finding that city and when you were little, before he died he gave you that diary, which has now been lost by that thief...

You were upset with yourself for that. As soon as got up, you quickly left the place before the vendor saw that you were responsible for the mess and made you pay dearly for it, probably more than half your salary for those fish.

Luckily, your house was nearby. On the way there, there were murmurs, ugly looks and disgusted faces about you, after all, you stank and looked awful. When got home, you immediately took a shower to get rid of the smell. While was showering, you cried with anger and sadness, but you tried to stay in a good mood, because you was going to work that afternoon. It probably wouldn't be so easy to get rid of that fishy smell...

~ {Pov} Tulio:

I couldn't stop laughing as I remembered that girl's fall after stealing from her, she was such a fool to think she could catch up with me. I went over to Miguel who was attracting the others to our bets, the blond was playing his mandolin to attract more people, he immediately stopped and his attention went to me when I arrived:

“Where were you? Did you get anything?” He asked and I handed him the girl's money bag and the diary. “Wait a minute, why the diary?”

“I don't know, I just stole it from a girl and it looked like something really valuable to her, maybe there's something in there.”

I know Miguel is curious, so he put the diary in his pocket and put the girl's coins in the pile of money on the floor:

“Why are you keeping that?” I asked.

“As you said, there must be something important, it's not every day that a girl can read or write.”

“I think it's a waste of time reading that witch's diary... It's probably just girly stuff.”

I helped him attract more people, we had a lot of money from the bets, and all thanks to our addicted data. Before Miguel could open that girl's old diary to read what was in it, three men came up and decided to bet, but in exchange for money it would be for the map of El Dorado. They're seriously going to bet on a map of a city that doesn't even exist!? Miguel soon became very excited about this, he always wanted to live an adventure and believed in these legends. Before I could say "no" to their offer, Miguel pulled me close to him to take a closer look at the map:

“Just a moment, gentlemen...” I said and joined the blond, analyzing the map with him.

“Tulio, look... El dorado! the city of gold... it could be our destiny! Our future!”

“If I believed in destiny, we wouldn't be playing with loaded dice!” I whispered to him, of course I thought this idea was ridiculous, I wasn't going to give up everything because of a map. Miguel made that sad dog face at me. “Don't make that face! No! No...”

“So, do we have a deal?” The man asked and Miguel kept looking at me with that face, I can't believe I'm going to do this...

“All right, let's start.” I started to shake the dice to play, there was no way we could lose that bet with our dice, but the man interrupted me.

“Wait, not with those, this time we use my dice...” Miguel, you pay me... “Got a problem with them?”

He showed us his dice. I had no choice but to accept or else they would suspect that our dice was loaded. I took the dice from him and turned to Miguel, making that sign by putting my index finger to my throat:

“I'll kill you!” I muttered between my teeth to him. He kept smiling and went back to playing his mandolin.

“That come on baby, papa need that crappy map” I said to myself as I shook the dice and blew a little for good luck. “Come on... Show me seven...”

I threw the dice that rolled across the floor, hoping to get the number I asked for. The first dice landed on four and the third on three:

“Seven!” Miguel and I celebrated happily, Miguel picked up the map and I bent down to pick up the money that was on the floor. “Well, nice doing business with you...”

My dice fell to the ground, giving the number seven. The man picked up the dice and threw them several times, but they gave the same number:

“I knew it!” the man exclaimed angrily and everyone looked at us suspiciously and angrily. “Your dice was loaded!”

Now was the time... I have to play the game. I held your mandolin, stopping it from playing and looked at Miguel:

“What?! You give me a loaded dice?!”

“You dare to impune my honor!?” Miguel got into acting, Also pretending. “The dice was yours! You were the one cheating and stealing from those men!”

The guards were close, Miguel grabbed the sword of one of the guards and I did the same, then we started to fake a sword fight, fortunately everyone was believing, it was a good opportunity for us to escape from that situation.

~ {Pov} Y/n:

I was at work, pretending to be a man and loading the export food onto General Cortés's ship, which was going on a trip in search of El Dorado as well. Fortunately, I was going on this trip to take care of the ship's cargo, at least one trip to make up for the horrible day I'd had. But now I have to be as careful as possible or I'll be discovered, since I'll be around men twenty-four hours a day... My back was already starting to ache from this, so I stopped for a while to stretch until one of the men called out to me:

“Are you tired yet, Isaac?” That was my male alias, sometimes it's hard to get used to being called by that name. “I need help with the apples.”

He pointed to the large basket of apples. Holy shit...

“Sure, I'll be right there.” I smiled and forced my voice to sound more masculine.

I helped him carry the big basket and we put it on top of the two barrels that were on the lower deck of the ship:

“That's all for today, we're leaving now.”

He spoke punching me on the shoulder and left the deck. As soon as he had left me alone there, I lay down on the wooden floor, tired, and took a deep breath. I felt the ship moving, we were leaving now and starting our journey. As I was going to be on deck for a long time, I decided to take a break and sleep, after all, I deserve a bit of rest.

I kept thinking about the diary that had been stolen, of course I know a lot of things in that diary from having read it so many times, but it was something of value to me, it was my father's. I felt quite down when I remembered that diary. I was looking forward to it too, after all I would get to see the city of gold, but something was bothering me, something was telling me that I didn't want it to be this way... I felt my eyelids getting heavy and the tiredness getting stronger, and it wasn't long before I fell asleep.

*****

I woke up a little lost in time, wondering how long I had slept, sat up stretching my back and yawning, until my attention went to two voices on the deck.

“One... two... three...”

I don't recognize anyone with those voices, and they were inside the deck, but how? If I'm the only one here:

“Let's go again... one... two... three!”

The voices were coming from the two barrels, and I worried that they might be thieves who had sneaked onto the ship. I got my sword ready and went over to the barrels that were being covered by the apple box, they were trying to get out, but the big heavy box was preventing them from doing so... I was curious to know who they were, anyway I was going to report them to the captain and the general.

I helped, taking the heavy box off the barrels with a lot of effort. Hell, I've never picked up something so heavy... as soon as I did, two men pushed the lid off the barrels and came out, immediately startled to see me. I pulled out my sword and pointed it at them, the first man was a blond man with medium hair wearing a red shirt, the second man... my eyes went wide, I immediately recognized him, he was the man who robbed me!

To be continued...

#animation #the road to el dorado #miguel and tulio #tulio and miguel #dreamworks animation #el dorado #fanfiction #disney x reader #disney #love triangle #chel el dorado #miguel x reader #the road to el dorado x reader #fics of el dorado

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lua-magic · 1 year ago

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Intresting Astrology facts (Vedic Astrology)

Twelfth House Venus is exalted, but do you know why?

TWELFTH House is the house of giving and charity.

Ketu is giver, hence, exalted in twelfth house

Venus is known as enemy of ketu then why both these planets exalts in twelfth house?

Because, Venus twelfth house (Untill it is not in sign of Saturn ie, 10 and 11) knows how to give

Venus exaltation in the house of Jupiter that is twelfth house, shows the more you spend your money spiritually ie to help others, your Venus will improve.

So, basic rule of universe is what you give more to others you will get it, so if you want to improve your twelfth house, which is house of bed pleasure, foreign travel, investments, sleep, learn to give others, your twelfth house will improve..

Venus Ketu conjunction is always seen as negative combination, but it is one of the most spiritual combination, only if you see money as spiritual wealth and not Material wealth.

Ketu is spiritual planet, and detachment, be detached from money, spend your money first to help, ketu will bless you.

If you have Venus ketu conjunction and you get influenced easily when you see other's money you are triggering your ketu and ketu will become negative. Always be grateful for your money, and see it spiritually, more spiritual you become regards to money matters more ketu bless you, so whenever you spend your money, bless your money.

Arigato” is Japanese for “Thank you”. It describes the inflow and outflow of cash as a necessary circulation in our life.

What is this technique?( This technique is exclusively for Venus ketu conjunction.)

The technique is extremely simple. Whenever you have an inflow of money, you accept with love and gratitude no matter how small or big the amount is. And you do the same while spending money, that is, spending money with an open heart and gratefulness. The appreciation for the outflow and inflow of cash is as simple as saying a “Thank you”.

Ketu is also your past life pending karma, so don't be sad when someone takes your money, he/she is just finishing past life debt that you took.

Venus Rahu conjunction should always keep their Rahu good, then you get good money, Rahu is foreign land, import export, thinking big.

But, if you get into lust, illicit relationship, multiple relationship, you will trigger your Rahu and Rahu will act negative.

Rahu in vedic astrology are cleaning workers, one of the best remedy of Rahu is donate to cleaning workers.

Venus Mars conjunction has super attractive body 👁️ 👅.

Venus-Mars conjunction should invest money on fertile agriculture lands or atleast in real-estate, Venus is Money and also sperm, Mars is land, Venus Mars is fertile lands.

Whichever house Venus sits in you will get money when you do work related to house,

First house Venus - Work on yourself, your personality, your identity.

Second house Venus - Work on speech, work with Family, cooking, Astrology.

Third house Venus - Work with siblings, work on your skills, communication.

In male's chart Venus third house gets you wife who has Martian quality, that is fighting skill, she will fight and protect you

Fourth house venus- When ever Venus is conjucted with moon, one best remedy is change your place, your birth place your Venus will improve, fourth house is house, work related to decoration of house is good.

In male's chart Venus moon conjunction attracts females who are good in decorations and cleaning of house.

(Rest of the house I will continue in my next blog.)

Afflicted Venus or debilitated Venus also shows physical or sexual abuse

Venus eighth house if afflicted gives you sexual traumas..

Second house and eighth house Venus are great with Astrology and occult.

Treat Money as spiritual wealth your Venus will improve.

Twelfth house is always what you give.

Eighth house is what you have to let go.

Sixth house is what you fight for.

#spirituality #vedic astrology #astro community #astro observations #astro notes #astrology

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pudding-parade · 7 months ago

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Tutorial: Importing an existing world into CAW

Note: I did not write this tutorial! I copy/pasted it from here. I just don't have confidence that TS3 websites will remain viable in the long term, so I'm preserving this mostly for my own future reference. But, maybe it will be helpful for other folks like me who aren't very CAW-savvy and just want to make some edits to an existing world in ways that you can't do in-game. The slightly edited original post is pasted behind the cut.

1) Install the world in the usual way in your fresh game folder. If it is a real prerequisite, in that Riverview objects are used in the world, you'll need to install Riverview too. Of course this also goes for Barnacle Bay or any other custom world EA may release separately. This is also a good time to check in your Installed Items whether any "foreign" CC came with it.

2) Start CAW and make a new world. It will ask for a .png, press the … box and you'll get a few 'starters', choose any. Accept all the rest and OK. You don't need to worry about parameters for your world as they will be overwritten later anyway. Save As the new world with a name you will use temporarily, not the definitive name you want to give it. Let's call it Temp.world for now. Close CAW.

3) Open S3PE and browse to the The Sims 3 Create A World Tool\UserToolData\Worlds and you'll find your Temp.world file. Open it.

4) Use Resource->Import->From package… and browse to your The Sims 3\InstalledWorlds and open the world file you want to "import". Accept the default settings for Import, when it asks you to save between packages, say No. It will show a progress bar so you'll know it's done. This may take a while.

5) Sort the resources by Type (click the "header") and find UNKN 0x296A6258 there. If all is well you should have two, one already deleted (struck out), right-click the other and select "Deleted" to delete it too. At the bottom of the file you should have two WPID resources, one already deleted, delete the other too.

6) Use the "close" button in the upper right to close S3PE. It will tell you the package has changed, choose Yes to save the changes. The reason for doing it this way is you'll know it's done when the S3PE window closes. This may take a while.

7) Start the CAW tool and open your Temp.world. Wait until the render window shows you a reasonable picture of something in the world. This may take a while and there is no real progress indication.

8) Right-click on the Temp.world on the left pane (World Layers) and choose Add/Edit description. Make sure the Name and Description fields are filled in. You can use your final name and description here. Also make sure there is a .png for the thumbnail. If there isn't, browse up one of the samples you got earlier or make sure you have one ready. This needs to be in the 24-bit 256x256 format!

9) Save As the world with the final name, let's say Final.world. It will give you a "wait" cursor for a while and then a normal cursor. Don't touch it!! It's not done! Leave the computer to it until a window pops up informing you the world is successfully saved.

The opposite direction is quite simple, just start CAW and use "Export world". It will put a .sims3pack in your The Sims 3\Exports folder. You can take that out and put it in the Download folder and install it as usual.

#sims 3 #ts3 #ts3 tutorial

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pinkmoondoll9shihtzu · 1 month ago

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👁️👁️🔂👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️

cringe at myself.....,.....

im aa FOOOOOLLLLLLLL 🫥

Sometimes i think, im a real artist or something..

But whats even real about me? everything i do only exists online

majority of it being on TUNBLR of all places.

fragile fucking tumblr.

my entire life is my imagination and fantasies my entire life is a thoughtform. how can i be a real artist if im barely even a real person in "reality".

not even banishedgirl but intangible girl.

The other day, when i posted about how i want to use the inter net less but im too lonely to stop, i feel it came back to bite me today, in a way i didnt want at all, for the short time my blog was gone, and this brought to my attention, how truly deeply foolish i am

i could disappear so fast like nothing because its all just 👉🧠💭 up here

Even tho my blog is back now. i cant get that feeling off of me. Like yeah there no reason my blog would actually be deleted, unless you know like, tumblr just got discontinued as a website. Which is not an unlikely scenario. i often wonder how long they'll keep paying for these servers. We saw what happened with myspace...

if tumblr was gone, id really be GONE gone

like. i dont exist.

sick to my stomach all day. even if i export my blog and put it on a hard drive ... does it even matter? it literally is not even "matter" it is pixels it is thin air.

How do i be a real girl in the real world

in utena , the "real world" is actually all an illusion. and i believe that to be true for our world too. In a way ive always believed my fantasies and spirits are more real than my body

But i still do want to exist here. i almost have to live in denial about this to stay sane. But i want to exist forever. i want a normal life and friends. i want normal things.. its disgusting.. i feel sick!!!!! im so happy but im so miserable. i love myself but im so insecure. i dont understand anything. i resent fakeness but im fake too. im all just words and space and airy air air

How do i change my life how do i stop yearning to Prove that i exist..... Why do i want to prove it so bad

WHY DID I HAVE TO BE CONFRONTED W THIS TODAY WHAT AM I BEING CALLED TO DO

Like dude i am already going thru it lately. i didnt need any more crisisfuel.

IDK i have to believe its some kind of catalyst to save myself , lest i succumb to the void

it has to show me something i needed to see.

Stuff like this makes me want to disappear in a way that i have total agency over. (Not like in a killing my self way but just in a going away way.) Thats not practical though is it i know thats my evil side talking.

trapped in a sticky web trapped in this glue trap thats what gets me all defiant.

the book im reading rn is from the 70s. i wish i was writing books not posts... i wish i was meeting people in real life the way the author describes in the book. I know the vainly imagined past doesnt hold all the answers either. Good chance i wouldve been institutionalized for woman hysteria or st. But i dont like whats happening here i dont feel natural at all. And its not just me who feels it, clearly.

if only i could be the one who finds comfort in impermenance.

do i accept what im dissatisfied with, do i try to change, or both, or neither?

i am sad

i am existentially disturbed

and i am fucking arrogant 🥴

for wanting to be real.

FUCK!!!!! ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮

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queenshelby · 1 year ago

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Forbidden Desire (Part 17)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

When an invitation to Tommy's wedding arrived, it was like a tsunami of feelings struck your spirit, shocking you to your core and leaving you breathless even after it passed.

Deep down you knew, deep down, that you would never forget the consequences that would run through your family's very roots if you turned down the invitation to his wedding. However, in the midst of this profound insight, your contemplative mind wondered if the heavy weight of emotional turmoil that this occasion bore was truly worth the endurance and perseverance it required.

Your father Arthur had gone silent, not a word exchanged, for months on end. He did not know about your secret yet, namely that, several months ago, you gave birth to a healthy baby boy. In fact, no one knew other than Ada and, luckily for you, Ada vowed to honour her commitment of utmost secrecy to you, valiantly concealing her own penetrating doubts about the progenitor's identity, yet lacking verifiable certainty.

Two months had passed since her last visit, when destiny laid bare the truth before her very eyes. The arrival was an unforeseen surprise but, she has been supporting you ever since. Being a single mother herself, she understood what you needed and this was emotional support and encouragement especially after you told her that you never intended to carry this pregnancy to term.

By a cruel twist of fate, it was discovered at the last minute that you were expecting your uncle's child. Termination was an unthinkable option by this point and one that you fiercely denied as you had already carried your son for twenty weeks without showing. It was confusing to you having to go through this alone but, in the end, you managed surprisingly fine.

Then, after you gave birth, in the midst of a maze of people, you met a kind hearted doctor named Robert who looked after your son after he was born.

Rich and well-connected, Robert seemed like a perfect match for you. He was kind and loving, treating your son as if he was his own. He was a man of unwavering dependability, someone you could always count on. However, a sense of unease crept over you when he expressed his desire to accompany you and your son on the imminent journey to Birmingham.

Robert was blissfully ignorant of the fact that your son was born out of the covert union between you and your very own uncle as, for months, you had been entwined in a web of forbidden passion and secrecy. He also had no idea how powerful your family really was and that their illegal activities could potentially put him into danger. Thirdly, you knew deep down in the pit of your heart that Tommy and your father would never approve of him.

“Robert, I am not sure if you coming to Birmingham with me is really such a good idea,” you thus said cautiously as Robert looked up into your eyes with a hint of doubt on his face.

"Y/N, please," Robert said with genuine sincerity. "I will be extremely happy to become acquainted with your family, especially if you should ever feel inclined to accept my marriage proposal,” he went on to say, causing you to sigh.

"We talked about this, Robert," you said coolly, looking into his sincere eyes. "My heart and mind aren't ready to dive headfirst into the world of commitment just yet,” you told him before taking a moment to collect your thoughts and attempting to unravel the complex web of your family's past.

“You see, Robert, my family is not like other families. They have a certain toughness that comes from running those factories and gambling dens I told you about,” you casually disclosed, hinting at the lawful ventures conducted under your family's wise leadership, rather than their illegal and illicit endeavours.

Robert dismissed the statement with a casual shrug of his shoulders and said, "So what? They export machinery and take bets on horses”, causing you to nod. “There are worse ways to make money," he then told you reassuringly, cupping your face before telling you a disturbing story of young desperation. He described a terrifying reality that had occurred just the day before. Two frail spirits, who were both gently starting their fourteenth year, had fallen prey to the deadly grip of cocaine's seductive appeal. But even before his depressing words could fill the room, you spoke up, breaking the heavy silence.

"Alright, alright! I will take you to meet my family, but you need to promise me not to bring up stories like this when you are around them. No mention of drugs and no mention of...anything to do with the prohibition and...just keep it simple...small talk only," you stammered nervously, not wanting him to create a conflict within your realms.

Robert nodded understandingly, his eyes reflecting the love he had for you. "I promise, Y/N. I will be on my best behaviour and avoid any topics that may cause discomfort or conflict. Your family's approval means the world to me, and I would never want to jeopardize that."

***

As the days passed and the date of Tommy's wedding drew near, you couldn't help but feel a mix of resentment and nervousness. The thought of introducing Robert to your family, specifically your unpredictable father and secretive uncle, made you tremble with apprehension. But evermore so, the fact that Tommy was getting married to Lizzie made you sick with nausea.

You despised her and, unbeknownst to Robert, you still loved him. You were in love with your very own uncle who was a dangerous man and the father of your son, whom he knew nothing about.

This incestuous relation had kept you captivated against all odds. You had often dreamt of the day when these secret encounters would turn into an actual romantic relationship, though you realized that this will never happen.

And there lay the crux of your problem – your undying infatuation towards Tommy amidst the growing bond with Robert, even after all the heartache Tommy had caused you.

The torrid dance between love and hate played out ceaselessly inside your restrained psyche now, consuming you entirely again.

On one hand, you never wanted to see your uncle Tommy again but then, on the other hand, you longed for him more than anything else. It appeared almost inconceivable how deeply enmeshed you were in the intricate snarl of these raw, fervent emotions. And, unfortunately, as much as you hated yourself for harboring these feelings, you simply couldn’t deny them.

Love or lust, whatever it was - it was intense. Every time you heard his name, every thought of him sent waves of arousal coursing through your veins, a constant reminder of your last few nights together before you were sent to America.

One night, in particular, was engraved in your memory like a tattoo and even though, that night, you were furious about his will to send you away just over elven months ago, you resolved whatever tension there was simply by being honest with each other.

That night, Tommy told you that he loved you more than life itself but, just like life, love wasn't always fair.

Backflash...

In a backflash, you remembered how, just the night before you left for Boston, Tommy took you to a place had never taken anyone else before.

It was his sacred place, his sanctuary, nestled among ancient trees where memories whispered softly in the wind.

Located on long abandoned land which he purchased without the knowledge of his family, a Gypsy wagon stood amongst wild flowers. Inside, candles flickered softly casting dancing shadows upon rough wooden walls covered in paintings depicting scenes from his past. There, hidden from prying eyes, he felt safe enough to express himself freely and vulnerably.

"Why did you buy this land?" you asked him quietly as you dismounted your horse and secured it against one of the large trees while looking around the peaceful scenery.

Tommy's voice sounded deeper than usual, touched with emotion, as he explained his reasoning behind purchasing the land. "Because I needed somewhere quiet to think sometimes, someplace where I didn't have to worry about anyone finding me," he told you as he approached and cupped your face tenderly.

His thumb caressed your cheekbone, the tenderness evident in his gaze as he stared intently into your eyes. "Away from everyone and everything," he continued softly, his fingers brushing across your lips. "Just one more time… let us forget about who we are, eh? Let's enjoy ourselves here tonight..." Tommy went on to say and you couldn't resist the intensity of his stare nor his touch, the warmth in his voice drawing you closer to him.

"Why do I have to leave, Thomas?" you questioned him sadly, unable to mask your sorrow.

"Because, unless one of us does, I will not be able to resist this constant temptation that pulls us toward each other Love," he admitted solemnly, regret etched on his brow. His eyes held yours steadfastly, refusing to look away, seemingly willing you to understand why it must be done.

"Then don't resist!" you urged passionately, stepping forward to press your body against his firm frame. Desire surging between you two, like an electric current sparking alive every cell within your bodies.

"You know it's not that fucking simple, eh?" Tommy growled, frustration seeping into his tone. "You are my fucking niece and we both know that this needs to stop," he declared forcefully, trying to suppress the desire threatening to consume him whole. But instead of withdrawing from your embrace, he pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate, hungry kiss. It was as if the very essence of his soul sought release through your mouth, through your body.

As your tongues tangled, he delved deep inside, probing and exploring, seeking something neither of you fully understood. With each thrust of his tongue, he seemed to find a part of you, awakening new sensations and passions.

"Don't you dare push me away for good, Tommy" you murmured breathily, clutching at his waist, digging your nails into his skin.

"We can't go on this way Love," he groaned, sweat trickling down his temple. "I want to protect you, and the rest of my family," he insisted, pulling back slightly, yet still maintaining eye contact with determination. "We need distance," he added.

He pushed you further against the tree behind you, pinning you there as he ravaged your mouth once more, his hands roaming eagerly over your curves.

Swept up in the moment, you lost track of time, the space around you falling away until there was only him—his scent, his taste, his touch. As his hand skimmed teasingly down your throat, stopping at the base of your neck, the feeling of being desired by this man consumed you completely.

He pressed harder against you, the heat radiating off his hard body causing your nipples to pebble beneath your clothes. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you ground your hips against him, silently begging for relief.

"Please, Tommy," you pleaded, gasping for air, begging him to take you.

Tommy paused, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain control of his ragged breathing. Gathering what little composure remained, he ran his calloused finger down your neck, tracing its curve towards your shoulder blade, creating goosebumps along your skin.

Reaching beneath your skirt, he pulled down your panties roughly, exposing your feminine folds to the cool evening breeze, sending shivers running down your spine. Your legs began to quiver involuntarily.

His hot breath tickled your ear as he muttered huskily, "just one last time, eh?" before unbuckling his belt swiftly. He then unzipped his pants and pushed them down, causing his erection to spring free, thick and hard, demanding attention.

Without warning, he pushed up your skirt and made you lift your right leg so that it would wrap around his waist, giving him the perfect angle to align his manhood with your soaking wet core.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him position himself. Desire, excitement, and fearsome anticipation melded together inside you, creating a potent mix of emotions. Your thighs trembled violently, preparing themselves for his penetration.

In spite of his best efforts to retain self-control, the animal instinct rose to the surface when Tommy grabbed hold of your ass and yanked you flush against his rock-hard cock. Then, he gave it a slight push, forcing entry into your tight, moist cavern.

"Ah! Oh god yes!" you cried out loud, welcoming his fullness with sheer bliss.

Feeling the warmth of his flesh spread throughout your entire being, you moaned, reveling in the pleasure you were experiencing.

Your head fell backward against the tree trunk as you absorbed the powerful sensations pulsing through your body.

Every nerve ending came alive with exquisite pleasure as Tommy began to move rhythmically inside you. The moonlight cast a soft glow on his rugged features, illuminating the raw passion consuming him. The air filled with the primal sounds of ecstasy as your lovers joined together in their most fervent union.

As the fire ignited between you both grew stronger, Tommy wrapped his arms securely around your waist, locking you tightly against him. He moved with deliberate precision, ensuring he hit all the sweet spots with each thrust.

"Fuck Love, you feel so good," his voice rumbled low in his chest, resonating deep within your core.

"Tell me how good my cock makes you feel, tell me how much you want it."

Panting heavily, you managed to reply, "Oh God, Tommy... I can barely stand it anymore... I want it so bad, so fucking badly... you make me feel things I've never felt before."

Tommy grunted with satisfaction, increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts.

"I love you Y/N. I love you so fucking much," he said hoarsely, reaching down to cup your breast, rolling your already swollen nipple between his fingers.

"I love you too, Tommy" you moaned as the pressure built up gradually, becoming almost too intense. Sensations flooded your body, culminating in a wave of pure bliss that coursed through you as you reached orgasm. Throwing your head back, your cries echoed around the woodland clearing, filling the silence with your rapturous release and, within seconds, Tommy followed suit.

His movements became erratic, his breath coming in short bursts. Grunting audibly, he poured every bit of pent-up energy into the act, leaving nothing left for tomorrow. The earth shook beneath you, trees creaked and rustled, and birds scattered as the primordial forces took hold, claiming its prey.

Drenched in perspiration, Tommy cradled your face, tears streaming down his own as he looked deeply into your eyes.

"Promise me, no matter what happens in America, you won't forget our time together, eh" he whispered, a note of desperation in his voice.

"Never," you replied earnestly, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss upon his forehead. "Our connection runs far deeper than just blood. It may change form, but it shall always remain," you said without knowing that your forever continuing connection would be through the birth of your son.

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