Koyaanisqatsi [An Elder Scrolls crossover with High School DxD]

Arc-on-Fire · Oct 19, 2020

CAUSE FUCK IT! I'LL JUMP ON THE BANDWAGON TOO!

...Also. You ever just write something very slowly for several months? CAUSE I HAVE BEEN WRITING THIS FUCKING THING SINCE EARLY JUNE AND NOW I'M A FUCKING LOONY WITH HIS DOME COOKED BECAUSE OF IT!
Anyway, my bullshit aside. Enjoy. Also, keep your expectations low, I am a rather newborn writer after all.

(Disclaimer: I don't own High School DxD, Elder Scrolls, nor any other crossover elements that I may introduce further down the line.)

Koyaanisqatsi.

We already know this song and dance. Man plays a game, goes to bed, wakes up in another world as his Mary Sue of a character. Too bad he's just an ordinary if troubled guy. Contains Graphic descriptions of violence, Mature language and may also contain Elements from Comics/Games/Novels.

Chapter One.
Hatchling 1.1

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

My chair groaned and creaked in protest as I leaned back into it, spine cracking and popping all the while. "Holy shit," I mumbled. Prying off my headphones that were damp with sweat, I set them gently on the floor.

Damn… how long have I been playing Skyrim anyway? I glanced towards the clock that was propped on my wall.

4:53 AM.

"Fuck me… thirteen whole hours?!" That was unexpected, even for me. I quickly brought up my hands and rubbed away the crust that had collected on my eyes.

Another day, wasted and thrown out the window I suppose. Heh, who gives a shit anyway. I got up, ignoring the strain's of protest that had emanated from my unused weak legs, I made my way to the bathroom for one last, late-night piss.

I was careful not to trip over the lingering soda cans, chip bags, pizza boxes, and other garbage. I opened the door and went to the bathroom.

As the lights to the bathroom flickered on, I held back a wince as my eyes were blinded by the bright white LED lights that lit up my bathroom. Squinting, I took my last piss for the night.

...Sometimes, I don't know why I keep on playing that fucking game. Was it because I had filled it with ungodly amounts of mods, both lewd and lore-friendly? Probably, actually… yes, the answer is yes. Ah… poor old Bubbles. That vile collection of disgusting fetishes and black comedy rolled and forged into one character. I don't know what the hell I was thinking when I made Bubbles.

Finishing my piss and flushing the toilet. I washed my hands and had a staredown with my reflection.

I had long, matted, greasy dark hair which was in dire need of a brush, and as if to complement this, my hair matched rather well with my flushed, tan face that was riddled with dead skin and blackheads alike. My facial features were nothing special, completely ordinary, my face was a blank slate, it didn't have anything unique to complement nor antagonize aside from my poor hygiene.

I let out another sigh as I finished washing my hands. I honestly do look like a degenerate, considering how I made Bubbles… that really isn't a surprise anymore.
As I made my way out of the bathroom, I paused myself and leaned against my apartment wall. I wonder if I should give Mom a call, she's probably working herself to the bone again, that crazy woman.

I blew a soft raspberry as the familiar itching tingle of paranoia danced in the corners of my mind.

Pushing myself off the wall, I made my way to the kitchen. Grabbing my home-phone and a can of cold orange juice from my fridge.

Sitting down on my old, cluttered, burgundy loveseat that I got from the Salvation Army. I punched in the number to my Mom's residence.

…~ring!~...~ring!...

…~ring!~...~ring!~...

…~ring!~... ~ring!~...

I let out a tired sigh before cracking open the cold can of citrus-laced goodness, taking a large swig of the orange juice, I let the chilled acidic liquid jolt my brain awake.

…~ring!- The phone picked up. "H-hello?" I sputtered and coughed as I struggled to swallow the remaining juice. Clearing my throat, I spoke up. "H-hey Mom, how are you?" I began rather awkwardly.

"I'm fine, why are you calling so early in the morning anyway?!"

I bared and clenched my teeth. "Oh, you know, just calling and making sure that my mother isn't working herself to the point of absolute exhaustion that's all."

An exhausted sigh rang out from my phone, "So, I hear. You don't sound much better yourself, have you been playing that game of yours all night again?

I waggled my tongue before humming. "Hmm, eh… I-I...okay, yeah. Yeah, I played my game for like… 13 hours, I think?"

"..."

The silence that followed was almost unbearable, I could almost feel the sheer amount of disappointment emanating from the other side.

"You... you… ugh, you know what. I'm not even going to bother anymore," I could hear my mother lean back in her chair, the groan of which was rather loud.

"How's your leg?" she questioned, her tone more gentle than usual.

I took a glance at my leg, looking at the hideous, bruised, surgical scar that extended from my shin all the way to my kneecap.

The screwed hardware within made my leg ache with soreness.

"It's...it's a bit sore, nothing really to worry about though," I told her.

"Alright… that's good I suppose… hey, did you brush your hair and take a shower yet?"

I licked my lips, now knowing where this conversation would lead. "I...eh…mmm," I kept on drawing out my answer for as long I could.

"Did. You. Wash. Your. Hair?!" My mother aggressively asked.

It was too early in the morning to deal with this shit. "No," I finally admitted. "I did not, I still haven't washed my hair since June…"

My mother's seat croaked rather ominously over the phone "Listen," she began. "Since you decided to call out of nowhere randomly, guess what? I'm coming over today,"

I lurched out of my chair. "What?!" I exclaimed in disbelief.

"Oh yeah," she called out. "I'm coming over, and if your hair isn't silky smooth and without a single knot by the time I get there, then I'll shave it off and GIVE YOU A SHITTY HAIRCUT! AND IF YOUR APARTMENT IS STILL DIRTY, THEN I'LL PAWN AWAY THAT COMPUTER OF YOURS TOO!-"

I looked at the time on the phone.

5:08 AM.

"Alright!" I interrupted her. "Alright, holy fuck. I just wanted to call and tell you to get to bed. How long have you been working anyway?"

"Eh, I think about eight hours now? Maybe… I think I lost track of time, to be honest," she supplied.

I licked my teeth. "Uh-huh, hey mom, listen. It's five in the morning right now. You're gonna go to bed, I'll go to bed… and that'll be that."

"Really now?"

"Yup, so… when are you gonna come by today?" I questioned.

"I don't know baby, maybe around evening or nighttime? Somewhere around there."

I rubbed my head. "Okay, I can work with that… anyway, I should get going, it's early in the morning and I don't want to rob my own mother of her much needed sleep after all."

"Hey, baby," My mother called out.

"Yes?" I answered.

"Get some sleep okay? Oh, and don't forget to wash your hair and clean up your home and all that good stuff okay?" Her tone, exhausted as it was. Was filled with that motherly warmth that I had come to love.

I let a soft smile bloom on my cracked lips. "I will, goodbye Mom, love you."

"I love you too, make sure to have a good nights' sleep too okay? Bye."

I hung up the phone, putting it back into its receiver. I sipped on my remaining juice as I watched the twinkling daylight of morning sparkle through my dirty windows.

Stumbling back into my room, I plopped down on my worn, sheetless mattress, uncaring to wrap myself in blankets. Letting exhaustion catch up to me, I fell into the realms of Morpheus with due haste.

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

The first thing that I noticed in my groggy sleep-deprived state was the smell… Oh, God, the smell! It was as if someone hadn't bathed in years, amplified by 10 and, add on to the fact that there was also a stale, rotten food-like stink that seemed to be hooked to the floor.

It made my nose burn-in absolute disgust.

My eyes shot open as I couldn't bear the stench any longer. Only to immediately shut them closed as I was forced to take in blinding light and impossible amounts of detail.

WHAT THE FUCK!

I tore off the covers and blankets that enshrouded and covered me. Now free, I scrambled up from my bed that was on the floor?... What the fuck?!

My eyes had grown a bit more tolerant of the flashes of unimaginable amounts of detail mixed in with ungodly bright light. And what I saw was… was…

This… this wasn't even my apartment, it didn't even resemble my home in any way! The walls were cramped around me, all of them with their stained steely gray wallpaper either cracked or peeling off, they were also covered in thick, copious amounts of dust, grime, and whatever the fuck else was on there.

Had… had I been kidnapped? Who the fuck would want to kidnap me?! Was this some sort of sick fucking joke! Sure, I got pranked and mocked a lot in high school, but nothing on this scale!
I clenched my eyes shut again as they began to get blinded. Wincing in pain at the sheer amount of light that poured into the room, I collected myself before I could stumble and knock into something that could hurt me.

I let my eyes rest while contemplating what was wrong with me.

What the fuck is wrong with me?! I don't have a hangover so that rules out if I got blackout piss drunk. But I went to bed around… what, four or five in the morning. Why the fuck would I want to go out and get fucking drunk?

Not that I would know anyway. But… there is something off with me… I feel… different to say the least. My eyes are enough of an example, what even happened to me?

I had a feeling I would find out soon enough.

Slowly opening my strained eyes, I glanced towards the floor instead of the walls, where the light was less prominent.

The floor… was odd, to say the least. It wasn't tile, wood, or carpet flooring, rather… it was some kind of aged, stained woven straw mat that covered most of the floor. The color of it was a dull washed-out sandy yellow that was muted by the thick dust that had collected, it was much like the walls in that regard. With that being said... it was like no one had lived here for years.

I saw the many details that made up the flooring as I focused on them, all of them, down to the minute stray fibers that stuck up like a stubborn thorn.

The foul stench assaulted my sense of smell harder than before.

I contorted my features in disdain as I let my uncomfortableness voice itself. "What the hell is with that smell-," I cut myself off as my hands shot to my throat. My… my voice… what's wrong with my voice!

It wasn't the neutral, sleepy, deep tone I usually had, instead… My voice was girly, dainty. it was something that sounded like if a muse and a siren had a kid. It had all but removed the line that separated warmly cute from "so seductive that even the Gods themselves get harder than diamonds and bow before you."

I pried my hands loose from my throat as horror began to build in my stomach. I took a cautious glimpse of my hands. They weren't mine. They weren't the tan, calloused, meaty hands that I grew up with. Instead, in their place was something else… my tanned dirty complexion had been replaced by a beautiful smooth pale porcelain and the rough leathery-like calluses that had plagued my palms were gone, restored beyond anything I'd ever imagined, my palms were smoother than mulberry silk and softer than a new-born baby.

They were delicate, alluring, feminine…

That didn't stop me from rubbing them in a furious panic as I tried to find out what the fuck was exactly wrong with me. The choking gasps emanating from my mouth didn't help either.

The Bathroom! I mentally roared to myself. I kicked away the blankets near my feet and stepped off the bedding, making my way to the sliding door with a hurried gait in my step. I was uncaring of the stench that burned my nostrils and the light that flared in my eyes like an inferno.

Opening the sliding door, I crept out of the cramped room that had held me, prisoner. I held back a tearful wince as the stench hit my nose harder than ever, but I endured, scanning the thankfully dim hallway, the bathroom was just right in front of me. I grabbed the dust-covered doorknob to the bathroom and pushed it open, letting myself in-

Only to step back and keel over while gagging. The rotten stench melded and danced with mold.

I shook my head and forced myself to weather through the gauntlet of torture on my poor abused senses. Entering the bathroom, I finally found what I was looking for. The mirror, cracked and caked in grease as it may be, it was better than nothing. Striding hurriedly over to the mirror, I gazed at my reflection-

My legs locked up, my arms locked, my entire body locked up. The pit of horror in my stomach had evolved into a gnawing storm of unbelief and distraught.

I stared at the reflection, the reflection stared back. I lifted my hand, the reflection lifted up its hand.

The appendage fell limply to my side as a whirlwind of thoughts blew through my mind like a fish out of water. How, how, how? Like a broken record, the same thought repeated… over and over again. Until "How?" Became "Why?"

Why? Why? Why? W̟̬̞̦̟̻͙h̭̓̅́̏̀y̟̣̦̝̒̈́̓͛?̈̅͏̼!̼̼̥̠̭̝͐ͣ̂̒̉̃ W̟̬̞̦̟̻͙h̭̓̅́̏̀y̟̣̦̝̒̈́̓͛?̈̅͏̼!̼̼̥̠̭̝͐ͣ̂̒̉̃ W̟̬̞̦̟̻͙h̭̓̅́̏̀y̟̣̦̝̒̈́̓͛?̈̅͏̼!̼̼̥̠̭̝͐ͣ̂̒̉̃ Ẉ̩̩̳̘ͮ̎͌ͪh͕̰̬̎̃͆̄̽ͯy̲̘̰͋̄͢?̤̖͇̪͇͇͖̄ͥ̋̏̽͒̎ͭ!̻̘̼̮͉̻̈͌͝ͅ Ẉ̩̩̳̘ͮ̎͌ͪh͕̰̬̎̃͆̄̽ͯy̲̘̰͋̄͢?̤̖͇̪͇͇͖̄ͥ̋̏̽͒̎ͭ!̻̘̼̮͉̻̈͌͝ͅ Ẉ̩̩̳̘ͮ̎͌ͪh͕̰̬̎̃͆̄̽ͯy̲̘̰͋̄͢?̤̖͇̪͇͇͖̄ͥ̋̏̽͒̎ͭ!̻̘̼̮͉̻̈͌͝ͅ

My thoughts became a jumbled, incomprehensible mess as I became catatonic from the flat-out refusal that the reflection in the mirror was me.

Because it wasn't me at all. It was my Skyrim character, it was Bubbles…

And that was all I knew before I felt It. A seemingly endless abyssal ocean of power and energy that broiled and weaved within me, with this, came also information, knowledge. All of this erupting forth like a violent volcano.

I clenched my head in pain, catatonic stupor forgotten in exchange for screaming as so much data forged itself and was forcefully made known.

[Illusion]

[Alteration]

[Destruction]

[Conjuration]

[Restoration]

[Mysticism]

[Thaumaturgy]

[Enchanting]

[Light Armor]

[Heavy Armor]

[Lockpicking]

[One-Handed]

[Two-Handed]

[Archery]

[Block]

[Pickpocket]

[Smithing]

[Alchemy]

[Sneak]

[Speech]

[Thu'um]

[DOV-AH-KIIN!]

A thump rang out as I collapsed to the cheaply tiled moldy floor below, unable to even comprehend what just happened… letting myself fall into the realms of slumber, a single thought rang out through the depths of my mind.

What…?

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

The first thing that woke me up… was the smell. That fucking stench… I rolled over on my back, uncaring of the cold floor. I breathed in gentle yet disgusted breaths while letting my eyes adjust to the light.

What the fuck even was that? First, I wake up with super-senses and now I'm Bubbles? No way, that has to be a fucking fluke.

I got up slowly, making sure I hadn't injured anything when I fell. Patting myself down and clearing away any dust that may have clung to me, I realized something. I'm naked… I took another glance at the mirror and-

...The visage of my Mary Sue of a Skyrim character greeted my sight. My idle bodily motions were mimed by the reflection in the mirror, assuring that this was somehow me… but-

But holy fuck man… I'm… there were no words to describe the sight I saw in the mirror. Calling it "Pretty" would be a disgrace, to call it "pleasing" would be a sin. What I saw was beyond other-worldly beauty. My body was smooth and had pale porcelain feminine skin that didn't have any hair nor impurity in sight leaving it completely clean and devoid of hair, and my looks were something else. The perfect sexually tantalizing feminal curves and buxom slender appeal that blended flawlessly with the pure cuteness associated with august youth.

My face was effeminate perfection embodied, the color of my eyes was a bloody red that seemed to glow with an unknown, gripping allure, my facial symmetry was flawless, everything was held just in the right place and had a uniqueness that was exclusive to only me.

My hair was a long, rich, healthy crimson with black highlights that stopped near the end of my back and was oddly patterned like a zebra. I also had a stray forelock of hair that coiled at the top of my head, it was an ahoge… don't know how to feel about that one.

All in all… I was the utter divine embodiment of petite, lolita beauty.

But of course, it is only natural that my utopian spring form is without peer after all.

WHAT THE FUCK! I reeled my head away from the mirror and quickly backed off. What was that?! I had changed… became something else, I felt like I was on top of the world, having the greatest high ever from just looking at me.

That's fucking scary… I should keep away from the mirror for now. I gazed at my Ṻber-feminine reflection one final time with an odd mix of weird-satisfaction and sickly-disappointment before leaving the moldy, dust-polluted bathroom.
Hey… at least I still have my Dick-And-Balls… oh, yeah that's right! I made Bubbles into a Shota-Trap… Oh for fuck's sake. Shaking my head at my own degenerate foolishness and bullshit, I headed back out into the hallway while taking note of the daylight outside.

It looked to be late evening outside, with the slight twinkling specks of twilight blooming on the horizon.

...That… how long was I knocked out? It must've been around noon or one when I woke up in this weird-ass apartment. That meant I was knocked out for more than seven hours…

As I arrived in the living room, I probed the area and the kitchen it shared its space with.

Everything was covered in thick dust, down to the flooring, cabinets, drawers, a shitty scuffed table, and whatever furniture that wasn't rotting with mold and the previously mentioned dust.

I scanned the living space further for any tips or clues on why I'm here and not in my messy as fuck room back home, like honestly, why am I here and not home?! And in a fucking fictional homemade character's body nonetheless! I mean how? HOW! How the fuck am I Bubbles, my Skyrim character that I made in a mad-manic state of perversion and black humor. So far, it looks like I've fallen victim to an over-used cliche, trope known as Isekai… and if it means what I think it means…

Mother…

Amid my rising panic and anger. An unknown, alien feeling rippled in my mind. It was like a cold bucket of water fresh from the arctic had been poured all over me, the unknown feeling dosing my entire body in its contents and silencing any negative emotions that bloomed in my gut.

Query: Why am I here?

My eyes widened. The fuck? I focused on it again.

Query: Why am I here?

Fact: I was brought here via an unknown third party. Later on, I woke up here in this rancid, neglected apartment.

Yeah, well no shit… who the fuck even lives here anyway?

Query: Where is the previous Tenant who lived here before my arrival?

Fact: This living space is severely neglected and unclean, whoever lived here was not seeking permanent occupancy. The last sign of anyone living here was 10 months ago.

Fact: Due to the lack of personal items and furniture being present, the previous Tenant did not live here for long, 2 months at best.

Okay… but how does that explain the smell though? If the previous guy who lived here only stayed for two months… then how the fuck does this place smell this bad?!

Fact: Upon awakening, I have gained new sensory abilities that are above and beyond a normal human.

So, I just have a powerful nose then? Good to know, I'll just air this place out later then. Until then… I don't know. I made my way to the scuffed table and sat down on it. I let my sight wander over to the door that must have lead outside. The door had unlocked deadbolts a-plenty.

Theory: The tenant who occupied here before we arrived may have had a possible criminal background, may have been financially poor, was also immensely paranoid.

Fact: Evidence of deadbolts support this. Deadbolts were also installed without power tools, meaning it was done by hand and without the landlords' knowledge or permission.

Conclusion: The occupant who lived here was a possible paranoid criminal who was trying to lay low, was exposed at one point and left with just the bare essentials without a moment's hesitation, Tenant was also in their late 20s or early 30s.

Wow… now that's… I'm speechless, who would've of think that I would've pieced that together so quickly. So… what now? I don't know what to do! I'm buck-ass naked, I'm my fucking Skyrim character for some damn reason and I'm stuck in this nasty, abandoned apartment, like what the fuck man!

And that brings me up to my next point, what about my family?! Oh God, Mom!

My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach, with years-old paranoia riding the wave of an anxiety attack like the wooden horse of Troy.

Fuck! Mom still has to be here right? Right?!

Fact: I am alone.

NO! FUCK OFF! THAT'S FUCKING BULLSHIT!

Fact: I am alone.

PISS OFF!

Fact: I am alone.

STOP IT!

Fact: I am alone.

Something in me shifted, foreign and primal in its origin.

Mama… Mama is gone?

A part of me died right then and there, like a piece that was vital to living had been ripped straight out of me like a vicious predator killing its prey.

My tears flowed like the Niagara Falls as I let out a shriek while I fell off my seat, arms shooting out automatically, coiling around my new soft body like a vice before I collided with the cold floor.

"MAMA!" I screamed out in denial, dainty voice shrill and thick with fear.

Nobody came…

I cried out again, this time more desperate. "MAMA!"

And again. "MAMA!" And again, "Mama!" and again, "Mama..." and again…

Countless times I called, cried, screamed and thrashed.

But…

But Nobody Came.

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

It was well into the night when my wellspring of tears had finally run dry. Laying on the cold, unforgiving dirty floor was me, shivering in emotional pain as I tried to deal with the fact that I was alone, lost, and devoid of any friend or family.

I was alone… I curled into a tight fetal ball while hugging my body once more.

The unknown feeling rippled again, bringing clarity to my turbulent mind.

Query: What should I do?

I… I don't know what do to.

Fact: I am within the body of Bubbles, a character I made in Skyrim, this especial playthrough was heavily modded.

Query: If I am Bubbles, then does that mean I possess all of his powers, skills, collected weapons, and treasure?

My shivering stopped as I unhooked my shaking arms from my legs. Tiredly getting up, I rubbed away any remaining dry tears and took a deep breath.

"First of all-" I croaked out before cutting myself off as I grimaced at the sound of my girlish yet worn-out voice. "First of all," I spoke to nobody. "If I'm gonna deal with this bullshit… then at least let me go get a breath of fresh air."

Stretching, I let out one last shudder before making my way to the door. Reaching the door, I realized something. I am short as all hell… no, seriously, I mean that. The doorknob literally reached my upper chest, just below my thyroid.

I gritted my teeth while lamenting the fact that I had made Bubbles this small. Yeah, sure! Lemme just make a character that's really fucking small, it'll be funny looking at a shota who in turn looks like a little girl!

I let out another tired sigh before opening the door and letting the cool night air run against my nude form.

The smell was amazing in contrast to the putrid stink of the apartment, even if it did have that dusty concrete smell.

Taking a step forward, I-

I stepped back as I noticed a peculiar, slim sized brown parcel that was awkwardly parked right on my doorstep.

Letting my eyes narrow in confusion, I called upon that odd analysis ability again.

Query: What is this package?

Fact: This is meant for me. Whoever delivered this did not know who I was, post-officer also did a rush job, didn't want to stay in the local area for too long. Indentations on the sides also prove this, post-officer was also in a mildly panicked state which may explain the sloppy placement of the package.

That… this is meant for me? Who the fuck would even… you know what, Fuck it. I'm not even gonna question it anymore. I fucking woke up in the body of one of my greatest and worst creation to date, I deserve a break Goddamnit.

Without thinking, I hovered my hand over the parcel and-...and levitated it into my awaiting grip.

Watching the package shoot up like a bullet into my hand was weird, but hey, given today? Nothing really does seem to surprise me as much.

Rotating the box in a firm one-handed grip, I shook it around a bit to try and find out what may be in it. The sound of muffled paper wrinkling and the sound of something else shifted about.

Fact: The package contains clothes and paper.

Really now… huh, I guess that excludes the possibility of this being a bomb. Hmm, I wanna try something.

Shifting my hand, I balanced the parcel on my palm and invoked the feeling and energy that I felt when I first levitated it. A grin grew on my lips when I saw the parcel float a few inches above my palm.

The feeling of controlling this power was a mix of cold and hot tingling. It was foreign, yet it was utterly familiar like I had practiced with it for years on end. It was like a well-loved limb that had been cut off was re-attached.

I lightly gripped the package. Immediately, the box caved in and rumbled into an ugly shape. Lessening my psychic grip, I played with it for a bit. I spun it, rolled it, made it fly at speeds that were comparable to a racing drone.

Bringing the abused test-subject of my powers back to the balcony I stood upon; I let the box float gently down to the rough, cracked concrete balcony floor beneath me.

I took another deep breath of fresh air before yawning. Taking a glance around, I realized something. The architecture of the buildings was off. It wasn't the modern, open streets of Toronto, Canada that I was used to. It was more… eastern-based, it wasn't the tall, sleek-yet imposing skyscraper's of Hong Kong, nor was it the clean and green, glassy landscape of Singapore.

This… this was more Japanese oriented architecture. Those unique, yet blocky buildings were all that met my hawk-like sight.

Does… does that mean I'm in Japan then? Why Japan, though? But then again this could be, say, Russia. Japan wasn't the only country that had architecture like this.

Welp, there's only one way to find out, to see if the language is Russian Cyrillic or Japanese Kanji, Katakana, or whatever writing system they chose to write to me in.

Using my telekinesis, I brought the roughed up package back into the dusty, repugnant apartment that I had the unfortunate luck of being summoned into.

The door shut behind me, kicking up the thick dust that was latched to the run-down walls and dirty floor. I sneezed aggressively as the dust got to me. Making my way over to the scuffed auburn table, I placed down the brown parcel while being mindful to not kick-up any more dust that would make me sneeze like a maniac.

Sitting down, I tore open the packaging without any effort, peering inside, there was a wrinkled leaflet along with a set of clothes that seemed oddly familiar for some reason.

Unsheathing the leaflet, I scanned the wrinkled paper. It was all written in Kanji… I'm… I'm in Japan…

I lowered the paper down with a frustrated expression, uncaring of how my grip distorted and crumpled the writing even further. I breathed in, letting the stale, disgusting air filter the way through my nose.

Letting another shudder rock my nude body, I turned my attention back to the almost-ruined paper that was tightly clenched in my left hand.

I took extra care in flattening and fixing the rumbled paper that I nearly crushed. Setting it down on the table, I ironed out the creases and wrinkles the best I could. Straightening out the article, I brought it forth and scrutinized it once more.

My eyes widened in shock as I could somehow read the damn Kanji that was printed on the paper.

I blinked once, wondering if it was a trick of the light.
Blinking twice, the same thing happened. The meanings of the visible Kanji translating, crystalizing, and embedding itself into my mind for later use.

It was an odd experience to be sure, to see a foreign language automatically translate itself on the fly was strange.

The letter read as follows.

Dear Soon-To-Be Student. We here at Kuoh Academy are proud to let you know that-

I blinked. "What."

Setting the letter aside, I looked back to the parcel and quickly took out the clothes that remained within. The assorted garb was fancy and well-put-together, the fabrics of which were high-quality as I noted the soft and smooth feeling of them.

I took my gaze away from the black and white uniform that I had pulled out. Peering around the mostly dark living room I realized something.

My sight was… Enhanced for a better lack of a word. Despite the fact the room was in near-total darkness, I was able to see just fine and clear as day, even the amount of detail I could perceive was upped to hell and back. And, in the words of Captain America. I felt like I could "See faster".

It was rather disturbing at the sudden fact that I have to adapt myself to these super-boosted senses of mine.

But enough of that. I have other matters to attend too.

Turning my attention back to the garments I held. I took them apart, article by article.

With shaking hands, I set down the final piece of clothing down on the table, my eyes twitching erratically as I stared down the separated uniform.

The outfit itself was… not what I expected at all. It consisted of a black shoulder cape, a plain-looking white and ink-black striped shirt along with a skirt that was way too short for comfort and a corset of all things, and finally, there was a pair of raunchy, lacy obsidian colored panties that seemed to be quite a tight fit.

It was kinda lewd in that regard.

I licked my lips. "I...wha?" I couldn't even voice my thoughts due to the extreme disbelieve at what I was seeing was Real.

Query: Is this what I think it is?

Fact: Yes.

"Wat tha'...Wat tha' FOCK!" I shouted out. Uncaring to hide my away Newfoundlander accent anymore.

I brought my arms up and threw them down harshly.

The consequences of my actions were… immediate to say the least.

Dust that had clung everywhere in the apartment was blown away in an instant, creating a thick cloud that raged within. Windows rattled, furniture flew and upturned, and the door had all but nearly ruptured open, barely able to contain the shock-wave that was generated by my little outbreak.

It was as if a stick of dynamite had been detonated.

The shockwave of my little outburst reverberated throughout my body like a subwoofer that had its bass setting cranked up to eleven.

My startled body tensed up. I… I have to get out of here, someone must've heard that!

Quickly glancing over to the vandalised door that I'd nearly ruined. I bolted to it in a blink of an eye.

Roughly fumbling with the doorknob, I pushed the door open once more, letting the fresh yet industrial air of the outside world flow against my naked body.

My sights immediately locked onto the matte-black, rusted railing that provided safety from falling down to the concrete below.

Without thinking, my hands shot out, grasping the thick cold bar firmly. Pulling myself forward, the rest of my body swiftly followed. Before I knew it, I was perched on the railing like a frog, muscles and joints primed and ready to let loose.

~Whoosh!

I jumped. Suddenly, I was in the air, the harsh wind and gripping friction bearing down forcefully on my soft new body.

The buildings and urban areas below rapidly became smaller and smaller as I flew through the sky like a missile.

"Holy-HOLY SHIT!" I screamed out, my voice eclipsing even the brutal wind whipping against my poor ears.
...And that which goes up must eventually come down as well.

My heart pitifully dropped to my stomach once more as I felt the omnipresent tug of Gravity encapsulate my being.

I began falling. "Oh shit! Fuck! Fuck! HOW DO I STOP THIS!" Flailing and spinning did nothing to prevent the gory, visceral fate that awaited me if I crashed.

Closing my eyes away from the chaotic spinning world, I delved deep inside and grasped it. Instantly, that abyssal ocean of writhing energy bubbled and frothed forth, igniting my body in a bath of cold and hot tingling.

Everything stopped. I was still, floating on some unseen force.

Levitation, my mind seemed to unconsciously supply. I cracked open a hesitant eye, what greeted my enhanced sight was a darkened pale sky with popcorn shaped clouds illuminated by the milky-white glow of the full moon.
Somehow, I stood up, looking down, I scanned the urban, blocky buildings that Japan had to offer me.

Holy shit… I-I must've jumped at least a few hundred feet!

Gazing around, I took in every night-encrusted sight I could with these hawk-eyes of mine.

...I realised something, I jumped from a rail to way the hell up here and I WAS FLOATING!

The sheer absurdity of the situation I found myself in was astounding to such a degree, that I couldn't help but ask the question…

"Is this even real?"

Such a simple yet hard question to answer. I let my left hand enter my sight, my pale skin reflecting the moonlight in a pleasing aesthetic way. Gently, I began clenching and un-clenching my fist. Where I should've felt meaty, calloused skin, I instead felt the smooth baby-softness of this new body.

My hand was warm in a welcome way, blood pulsed and flowed through as it should have. Every twitch of my muscles and sinews was noticed and taken into account.

Each sensation that was associated with the sense of touch, activated and flared, assuring me that what was happening right now, was in fact real.

"This-this is real…"

A goofy-grin soaked in child-like glee forged itself and dominated my features.

The sheer joy and raw unadulterated excitement that ran through my veins were like a raging river, complete with fast white-rapids.

"FUCK YEAH!" I yelled out at the top of my lungs, uncaring if anybody saw or heard me. I… I had superpowers. The realization hit me harder than any bomb mankind had ever detonated. I don't know what the hell I was thinking when I had so casually dismissed the fact that I used Telekinesis to lift a fucking box.

I experimented with my newfound flight power, jittery and twitchy all the while.

A little nudge to the left, a little nudge to the right, up and down. Whatever direction I wanted to go in, I went. It was clear as day to see that I was becoming used to how this power worked

It was laughably easy after a few minutes of practice. I didn't know if it was supposed to be easy to fly around willy-nilly like this, but I didn't care.

Gathering up my courage, I gazed at the night-shaded skies above and set my goal.

Coaxing my seemingly endless well of magical energy, I curled up and-

~ZOOM!

Flew.

Clouds parted before me in seconds and I was greeted with the sight of a beautiful night-sky, stars gleaming like kingly jewels embedded in a vantablack curtain of cosmic wonder.
The dopey expression I had must've been insane looking as I zipped and zoomed through the air.

"YEAH!"

I barreled through the sky, fast and unrelenting. The city had disappeared, my altitude too high to even see the ground anymore.

This… this euphoria, this feeling of freedom cannot be put into words, to fly unshackled and free of any earthly limits is truly indescribable, to feel your every childhood fantasy of flying come true? It. Is. Unreal. Period.

Was this how Superman felt when he first discovered that he could fly? To know that he could soar with the clouds and touch the very heavens themselves?

I flipped, spun, did aerial maneuvers that I saw on-air shows that were put on Youtube. It was addicting, stupidly so, I wanted nothing more than to fly through the air until the break of dawn. But alas, all good things must come to an end.

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

The only thing I saw when I hesitantly descended from my flying-fun-extravaganza for a break were thick groves of varying flora. Bamboo, thick pine trees and an assortment of other greens that I didn't recognize.

At the epicenter of all this dense brush was a clearing that had a very run down oriental shrine that looked like it didn't see any visitors for years at the very least. The path that led out of this clearing was severely overgrown, I would probably have one hell of a stressful time just trying to leave, thank fuck I can fly.

Finding a nice soft bed of grass, I flopped down on it back first, spread eagle. I let out a huff of air as I felt the cool blades of grass that help calm the liquid fire that was adrenaline.

It was enchanting really, the darkness that seemed to blanket me with its mysterious covers and the silence that reigned supreme.

I liked it, there were no stressful industrial sounds like cars and other shit that disturbs me whenever I tried to get a moment of respite. But not here, here… it was just silence and the wind rustling the leaves on the trees.

Query: Is this still what I think it is?

Fact: Yes.

With that in mind, I reminded myself of the cliche fictitious situation that I somehow got into. Cold hard logical facts drilled its way to the forefront of my mind and supplied me with a name.

High-school DxD…

The name of an anime that I haven't even watched in over five years.

"Pff," I snorted, and then… I giggled and began laughing.

"Heh~ Aha! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHA!" The calming silence which had soothed me was broken by my maniacal laughter, it's mad sound echoing though out the quiet, slumbering forest.

I laughed and laughed until I was left gasping for air.

This is- This is fucking ridiculious! WHY AM I HERE! WHY AM I IN AN ANIME THAT I HAVEN'T WATCHED FOR FIVE FUCKING YEARS! HOW DOES THIS SHIT EVEN EXIST! WHY BUBBLES-

A coppery scent wafted on the air, thick and disgusting.

My spiralling thoughts were canceled out by the smell of stinking fetid meat.

I retched and shot up, my sights immediately locking onto the origin of the stench.

Something slithered about in the decrepit shrine.

The sound of a woman speaking Japanese hit my worried ears.

"Ara~Ara… Who's acting mischievously around my humble abode on this fine night hmm?" A sensual voice spoke from within the ruined building.

I gulped down my worry the best I could as the woman continued speaking words I didn't understand. Shifting my stance, I prepared to fly away-

A pair of sizable arms shot out of the entrance to the shrine, caked in old, peeling blood that had already turned brown. Rotten, collapsed supports writhed and shifted as she pushed herself out, her talon-like nails sinking into the wood easily.

She squeezed out of the shrine much like how a snake would. I finally saw her full appearance become illuminated by the moonlight.

An abomination… I thought.

She was well over nine feet tall. Her upper body was busty, dirty and tarnished, her facial features could've been called pretty at one point if ruined by the inhuman, monstrous wide-lipped jaws she possessed. But that didn't matter one bit, what mattered was her lower body, where there should've been legs and hips… were instead replaced by a serpent-like form covered in toxic-green serpentine scales and patterned with sulfuric-yellow stripes.

My ears buzzed and tingled in discomfort as the words that the She-Abomination babbled at me were somehow translated into something that I could understand.

She turned around fully to gaze at me and when she did…

Her face lost its predatory smugness in exchange for simply gawking as she became enthralled by a pure beauty that couldn't even be called beautiful for fear of marring that perfect image of the unequalled feminine utopia that was my flesh.

You gotta be fucking kidding me… really? If this is how people are gonna fucking react to me, then I'm gonna have a real problem on my hands. Honestly, why the fuck did I even-

The tense silence between us was broken by a lust-filled gasp. "You! I'm going to ravage-BED! OOOOH!"

My thoughts were once again interrupted by her mad howl.

She began to slurp on her foul-looking fingers and groped at her naked breasts - at the sight of which I also idly noted that my tongue started to reflexively suck against the roof of my mouth.

I want Milk.

What? Why do I want milk for?!

"OOOH! THAT'S IT! I'M… I'M GOING TO… AHHH!" The snake-woman thrashed about in an animalistic way.

Her sickly bloodshot-amethyst eyes shot forth and locked with mine as her jaw stretched until I heard a disgusting popping noise.

"OM' 'ONNA EATH 'OU!"

The Beasts' illusion of humanity was broken, revealing a wide and fleshy maw that only had four dagger-like fangs for teeth and a seemingly inky-black pit without end at the back of her throat.

It was a scene worthy of John Carpenter's: The Thing.

Before I could I even react, she moved, blitzing the distance between us in a matter of seconds, her arms outstretched, ready to grapple me.

She's going to attack me… my tense form became loose and coiled, ready to defend at a moment's notice.

When she came close, I twisted my body sideways, letting her arms overshoot me. In that moment of freedom, I countered, my hands firmly grabbing onto her biceps. Without a moment's hesitation, I pulled.

~Tear!

"EEEEEYAHHHHHHH!"

The squelching sound of flesh being torn apart rang out, loud and horrendous.

My form was immediately covered in thick, warm blood that smelled of copper, thick curtains of the life-giving plasma spraying out like a fountain from the torn remnants of her arms.

Not even pausing, I threw one arm away and gave her a firm right hook, my body moving on its own, like as if it had done this a million times before.

~Crack!

"Hrk!"

There wasn't even a scream, just a whimper as my fist pulverised her flesh and sent her flying far into the trees ahead of me.

I took a moment to stop and take a glance at my fist that had sent the She-Abomination flying. I… did I just do that? Holy shit I did!

Reminding myself of the situation I was in, I looked forward and glared at the Snake-Woman who dared to eat me.

I am going to rip you in half.

It happened again, like with the mirror back in the apartment, it was a cold and calm feeling born from something primal yet purified by something logical.

I should be concerned… really, I should. This isn't me, not one bit, why am I like this? She's already hurt and will probably die anyway… But… but if that's the case then-

Then there should be no problem with ripping this snake-bitch in two.

Uncaring of how fucked up my thoughts were, I quickly summoned up my Magicka and imposed my will upon reality. Throwing up my arms, I harshly grasped the still thrashing She-Abomination with my Telekinesis high into the air and-

~Rip!

Ripped her in half. Blood and chunky gore alike poured thickly from her severed halves and onto the earthy ground below with a wet slop noise.

Releasing the armless, torn-apart She-Abomination from my telekinetic grip, her upper-human body meekly fell into a soup of her own blood and mud.

"Oo…" A weak, faint croak of pain met my ears.

She was still alive, even after all the hellish abuse that I had imparted onto her, her vigor held strong, even in the throes of death.

Not for much longer~ Idly holding out my right hand, I reached deep inside and pulled.

Immediately, a rippling golden portal formed in front of my fingers with featureless mist pouring out of the mouth.

Reaching inside, I grabbed at what felt like a hilt that was wrapped in fine cloth. Pulling it out, I realised what it was, it was a katana, its blade lengthy and seemingly made out of gold.

Goldbrand…

Surprise washed over me as I looked at Goldbrand, its features more detailed and sharper than any mod replacer that I'd ever downloaded. Does… does that mean I have all the shit I collected and downloaded while I played as Bubbles?

I quickly shook myself out of my thoughts and glanced back over to the dying She-Abomination. Time to finish this.

Securely gripping the hilt, I bounded forth, crossing the distance between us in a single moment.

Appearing by her head, I poised Goldbrand upwards and stabbed its blade down like a stake. The blade piercing through the back of her scalp and out of her forehead cleanly and without any resistance.

Her body stilled and let out one final death rattle.

Slowly, as everything calmed, the cold-blooded, slasher-like feeling that had enraptured me began to fade away, and I was soon confronted by what I had just done.

"Did… did that… what?" My thoughts manifested themselves as I tried to wrap my head around what just happened.
I… I just did that! I just killed… something and that something was the body of a woman, her arms and lower body was torn apart horrifically and a blade of gold stabbed right in her head.

By all means, I should be excited, I just did something that only happens in fiction! Committing superhuman feats which were never possible, only able to be realised in thoughts and pretending… but yet I did just that, I made my Power-Fantasy come true. For all intents and purposes…

I am the Superman.

But- her eyes, dead and glossed over. Was locked in a perpetual expression of confusion and shock.

My thoughts once more died and I looked away. However, instead of there being an empty area in which I could reorient my mind… I was greeted by a slurry of corpses, each in varied states of digestion. It was a sight that would surely traumatize anyone that looked at it.

I stared at them, at the dead bodies of what were once people. Not in horror or shock… I just stared at them, much like how I would a shrub on an overgrown lawn or melted rubber on hot-summer asphalt.
There was no fanfare to be held, no electronic jingle that alerted me to a pale-blue window that told me I had gained experience and leveled up. Nadda, fucking nothing. Just apathy.

I… I-

Query: What do I do?

Fact: Burn it all away. DXD is a setting in which All Myths Are True is employed, local pantheons may come across this scene and deploy esoteric methods to track us down.

Burn it all away huh… well if that's the case then-

Query: How powerful am I?

Fact: If I were to use the core-system that Skyrim used to scale character strength then it would be the following.

Magicka: ∞ Health: 100,000 Stamina:2.25 x 1032

Conclusion: I am absurdly and grossly overpowered.

"NO FUCKING SHIT I AM!" I screamed out loud, my voice echoing throughout the forest.

Are you kidding me?! INFINITE MAGICKA! Well actually, I do remember installing a mod that did give me unlimited Magicka via freezing the counter… oh well, I ain't gonna cry, more is better right?

Now then about this grisly scene… burn it all away. I already knew what to do, the word lingered at the front of my mind.

Straightening myself, I inhaled deeply and shouted.

"YOL!" ...And nothing happened.

I shook my head while feeling like a retard. "You gotta be fucking kidding me…"

Plopping my ass down onto the grass below, I contemplated my choices.

First of all, why didn't that work? If this is really real, then how come I couldn't shout? Bubbles is The Dragonborn, using the Thu'um should be as easy as breathing. And yet… I couldn't. How though? Using magic is easy, the Thu'um should be no different. Well, maybe it's because-

Maybe it's because it's the lore-based version and not the video game one!

"Oh shit," I blurted out.

In the Elder Scrolls lore, the Thu'um is a type of magical tonal manipulation that influences and controls the underlying tones of which compose the fundamental layer of reality, quite literally changing, adding and erasing parts of the Song Of Creation. It was only due to Kyne pitying the Nords (who at the time were enslaved by Alduin and his Dragon Cult.) That she spoke to Paarthunax, who then taught the first Tongues the Thu'um-

Wait a minute… Paarthunax! I was instantly reminded of a quote.

"In your tongue, the word simply means "Fire." It is change given form. Power at its most primal. That is the true meaning of "Yol." Suleyk. Power. You have it, as do all dov. But power is inert without action and choice. Think of this as the fire builds in your su'um, in your breath. Su'um ahrk morah. What will you burn? What will you Spare?"

Wordlessly, I got up, brimming with a metaphorical fire that burned fiercely within me.

Boldly walking over to the corpse of the She-Abomination once more, I grasped the hilt of Goldbrand and pulled the blade free of its fleshy sheathe.

Looking at the lesion that Goldbrand had caused, I noted that the stab wound of where Goldbrand had been planted was on fire, the flesh quickly burning into ash.

Focusing my mind, I clenched Goldbrand tightly, making it disperse into a fine featureless mist which then flowed into the summoned golden portal behind me.

Looking back at the corpses, I breathed in.

Action.

I willed Fire to kindle itself in my breath.

Choice.

It would be Powerful and Unstoppable.

Intent.

It will Burn through everything and be utterly Merciless to any subject in its path.

"YOL~▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄!"

Instantly, fire came to be, huge, great and powerful, just as I willed it to be. It eagerly gushed out of my voice in a majestic thin gout of flame which ballooned into an infernal wall of fiery destruction that barreled forth like a raging bull.

...And so, I spoke the word that brought fire into existence. There are no words to describe the Thu'um. I dominated reality itself, making it sunder and bend to my will, it was such an alien yet intoxicating feeling, to make that seemingly eldritch force of actuality become my bitch, it was unreal but I enjoyed it nonetheless, willing the very abstract conceptualized idea of fire into existence.

Nothing was spared, anything so much as grazed by Yol was engulfed immediately and turned into ash. The wall of fire was all that I saw until I finally ran out of breath.

As the last notes of Yol sputtered out of my voice, I was greeted with the ruination that I had wrought.

Destruction, as far as I could see, for miles on end. Everything that existed in front of me before I spoke Yol was gone, the earth was melted into a small gorge of molten slag that dug deep in the ground, the trees and flora were carbonized and burnt into nothing.

WHAT THE FUCK! YOL ISN'T SUPPOSED TO DO THIS! YOL IS SUPPOSED TO BE A SHITTY LOOKING RING OF ORANGE-ETHEREAL STUFF THAT SETS THINGS ON FIRE! NOT A FUCKING… WHATEVER THAT WAS!

My mental rant over, I let out a tired sigh and- and a great gale was born from my breath, harsh and whipping, it raced across the grand expanse of land that Yol had ravaged, cooling and solidifying the gorge of molten slag in a matter of seconds, Thick, humongous amounts of ash were thrown high into the atmosphere above and finally, the flickering remnants of fire were snuffed cleanout.

My hand quickly shot to my lips as I looked on in shock. My… my Voice!

There was an indescribable feeling deep within my throat, it whirled and vibrated chaotically, it was like the storm itself had latched onto my very vocal cords and transformed it into a conduit for Nature's strongest Disasters.

I wanted to speak the Thu'um again, the urge was intense, I nearly gave in, the promise of being an Architect of timely-potential and cosmic-change was relentless. I merely wanted nothing more than to part my lips and bring my every desire into reality, to make the land weep, to make the air cry, to be the dominant sentience.

This only confirmed it… this was the lore-based Thu'um, not like in the game where you could use it as a cool trick every once and a while when the situation called for it.

Because in the lore… there were these warriors called Tongues and these warriors knew the Thu'um and the strongest of the Tongues had such mastery over their voice, that they could not speak during times of peace, for their voice was so powerful that the mere act of breathing caused great destruction.

Now imagine the Thu'um of The Last Dragonborn. A being who slew and absorbed the numerous souls of dragons and… Miraak, The First Dragonborn.

To put into perspective how powerful Miraak's Thu'um is, he once engaged in a duel with his fellow dragon priest, Vahlok the Jailer. The duel between the two was so deadly and vicious that the modern-day island of Solstheim was splintered and fractured away from the mainland of Skyrim and that was before he had been taken and jailed in Apocrypha, where he then spent thousands of years honing his power and skill…

And I killed Miraak and gorged upon his soul.

Imagine how powerful The Last Dragonborn's- no my Thu'um must be.

I could not speak, at least until this feeling in my throat vanishes and by God do I hope it does. Until then… I'm gonna get the fuck out of here before someone inevitably comes by.

With that in mind, I flew away faster than anyone could say the word "Speed."

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

This body of mine had a rather cool if useless feature, anything dirty or nasty that tried to cling or stick onto me would slide off almost immediately, it was like rain on a windshield, its there one second, another it's not. It left my body in a perpetual state of pristine cleanliness.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that I was in a dark ally, looking at a clothesline that had a single scrap of clothing. A large black hoodie that I obviously couldn't fit into, the only thing that was preventing me from taking it was a basic moral conundrum.

This is stealing…

Fucking what even… the only reason why I'm back in Kuoh Town is because one: I got nowhere else to go and two: I smelled burgers. Yes, burgers. I don't know how I'll get one, I just know that I will get one. Truth be told it's just an excuse to make sure I don't have a complete and utter breakdown at the fact I'm in a body that shouldn't exist, in a place that shouldn't exist and in a world that shouldn't exist. Que all the "Crisis." that there is.

It's only because I'm in the moment right now, leaving me to function as needed. For now anyway…

I could have pulled something from my inventory for sure but… it's all modded bullshit plated armor and the like and includes The Lich King's armor set from Wrath of the Lich King. The Berserker armor from Berserk. 2B's outfit from Nier Automata. The Assassin of Black's outfit from Fate/Grand Order and finally the magical girl outfits from fucking Sailor Moon and I mean all them, from Moon to Galaxia. Which in of itself is kinda bullshit considering that they're all recolors of the same damn outfit (bar Galaxia of course.).

If you think I'm gonna be wearing a damn mini-skirt and thigh-highs then you must be fucking crazy. Ain't no way in hell I'm gonna be cross-dressing.

I sighed and made my choice, magically tugging the hoodie free and letting it gently fall into my hands. It was fluffy and soft, a good sign to be sure. On its front was white text, faded and chipped.

巨大な牛乳.

Letting that digest and translate, I realised what it meant.

Kyodaina gyūnyū

Literally "Milk that is Humongous" or "Huge Milk." A softcore reference to huge tits…

"What a fucked joke," I muttered softly.

I could almost imagine the kind of person that would wear this. A really busty crude woman who wears this while her knockers bounce about like bouncing balls-

I want Milk!

And my tongue began to suck against the roof of my mouth again accompanied by the urge to drink milk.

I let out a soft sigh and put started to put on the hoodie. The feeling in my throat had died down considerably while I had flown back, that still didn't mean that I was going speak however, the risk was just too great.
The hoodie was comfy, very comfy. If oversized, it didn't fit me at all, the sleeves were longer than my arms which ended up concealing my hands and made the oversized sleeves flop around like a pool-noodle. The end of the hoodie thankfully covered up my thighs just above my kneecaps.

Now then! Time to find burgers! (And milk too...)

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

I stared at the bright neon sign that hung above the door, modest in size and well worn. The bright neon LED's shone with a rare aesthetic that reminded me of American diners from the 50s

The door was pulled open, locked in place by a heavy-looking chalkboard sign. A thick bead curtain hanged in the doorway that led downstairs and into a cramped yet comfy looking restaurant that was illuminated by soft blues and purples giving it an exotic look.

But that wasn't keeping me still, what was keeping me still was the name of the restaurant.

Miller's Maxi Buns.

The name stunned me, greatly so. Because this was an obscure reference to Metal Gear (The Phantom Pain to be exact) and wasn't I in DxD? Fucking crazy of me to even think of that but that much was true, this was Kuoh Town. This restaurant is in Kuoh Town!

"Now this I definitely gotta investigate," I whispered out with a tone of finality.

Pushing the bead curtain aside, I made my way down the stairs and into the restaurant. What greeted my sight was a clean mahogany oval-shaped counter that had several red-cushioned stools planted around it, by the entrance were two simple square tables, one to the right and the other to the left.

The soft lighting of the restaurant gave it a nice feeling of retro-ness and a song played softly on the speakers adding much to the atmosphere.

Insert OST- Policenauts. [End of the Dark]

Making my way over to one of the stools, I sat down on it. The stool groaned loudly, dwarfing even the music in noise.

"Welcome!" an all too familiar muffled voice shouted out.

Oh my God… there is no fucking way that is who I think it is… IT LITERALLY CAN'T BE HIM-

One of the doors behind the counter opened up, revealing him.

OH MY GOD ITS… ITS…

"Master Miller?" I said in stupefied awe, my head tilting to the side.

Upon hearing his name, Miller tossed a look my way and promptly froze in place, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"..."

"..."

None of us said anything to each other, we only looked on in an awkward standoff. My absurdly effeminate face and red eyes reflecting cleanly off Miller's signature aviators. Noting this, I took in his details.

Miller was well… handsome to put it bluntly, he had strong, defined features that were complemented by his fair skin that had a drop of being tanned and platinum-blonde hair that was slicked back. He wore a tight muscle-shirt with a color that I couldn't identify due to the lighting and the brown paper-bag colored apron he wore over it, he also had a fancy-looking watch planted on his left wrist. Beyond that, it was nothing special, just some forest-green cargo pants and stocky black boots.

"Uh… S-sorry! I didn't mean to stare, you just caught me… off-guard, that's all," suddenly apologised Miller in English, his stupor broken.

I flinched back as Miller spoke up, spooked by his apology. We must've looked at each other for the last three minutes...

"It's no problem," I rapidly replied, "I just didn't expect… well, you to be here."

I realised what I had just said, and my heart had nearly stopped. How the hell was I gonna explain that Miller wasn't supposed to exist.

The said man simply made his way to where I was sitting with an amused expression on his face, planting his palms flat against the counter, Miller spoke up.
"You called me Master Miller didn't you, that means you played Metal Gear Solid right? Don't worry about it, I've had people in the past come in here and start fanboying at the fact that I am actually real - oh, and like how I told them, please. Call me Kazuhira, Miller is a bit too formal for my taste and brings up some rough memories if you catch my drift," Kazuhira explained, "now then, what can I get you?"

I stared dumbly at the subcommander of MSF and Diamond Dogs, taking in what he had just said.

"Do- do you have milk?" I hesitantly began, "as in strawberry milk I mean."

Kazuhira left out a soft huff. "Heh, sure thing. Give me a minute."

He pushed himself away from the counter and bent down, producing a pint-glass before he walked to a refrigerator and pulled out a jug of my favorite pink-colored drink.

A little bit later, Kazuhira placed the quarter filled pint-glass of strawberry milk in front of me. "Enjoy."

"Thanks," I muttered out.

Tentatively wrapping both of my small, dainty hands around the cold glass of strawberry milk, I brought it up to my lips and took a tasteful sip.

Milk!

My eyes widened as flavor exploded in my mouth, the taste of the strawberry milk was godlike, it was addicting and I wanted more.

I viciously gulped down as much milk as I could, even tilting the glass upwards to let the thick, creamy liquid flow down better.

Before I knew it, it was all gone and I found myself disappointed. "M-more please!" I childishly demanded, holding out the pint-glass to Kazuhira in an expectant way.

Kazuhira let out a chuckle. "Sure, might as well pull out the whole jug considering how fast you downed that drink."

He took the glass and made his way back to the refrigerator, pulling it open, he took the jug once more and refilled my pint-glass before giving it back to me.

"Here, oh… and this time, don't drink it so fast will you? I don't wanna see you sputtering about my restaurant just because you drank your milk too fast," Kazuhira began.

"Ok…"

Taking the glass in hand, I took Miller's suggestion and simply nursed my drink.

Man… I don't even know what to think right now. I'm here as Bubbles drinking strawberry milk that was given to me by Kazuhira Miller! How fucking crazy and cool is that! And then there's tonight… shit tonight was nuts, knowing that I can fly and do a whole bunch of other bullshit thanks to the snake-bitch and-

...those digested corpses.

You know when you look at a dead body and get this cold, gut-wrenching feeling accompanied by a sense of doom, a remainder of your own mortality and that you could die at any second? The reason why I'm thinking this is that I had once wandered onto a shock-site, a collection of gore videos free for some sicko or a group of bored guys looking to get well… shocked. That being said the video I watched was a man getting run over by a semi, his head popping and squishing like a grape all over the road. It was horrifying, seeing the shaky cam, the people starting to scream in horror… the chaotic reality of the situation, it had an element that no scary movie would ever and I mean ever capture.

Suffice to say I didn't sleep, instead, I spent all night thinking about how me or my Mother could potentially be killed by a retarded driver or just by crossing the road in general. It drove my paranoia insane and made me relentless during my frequent calls to mom and…

Mama… Mama is gone?

I clenched my fist and buried that instinctual want as deep as I could. Breathe in and out, I'll fucking find her, I know I will.

That aside… why didn't I feel anything when I spotted those dead people, by all means, I should be… fuck, I dunno, breaking down? Screaming in denial? Thinking deeply about death and how to avoid it? I don't even know anymore and with how easily I killed that… that thing! But…

But what'll happen if I kill somebody?

I… I!

Shaking my head clear of those dark thoughts and sipping my drink, I looked back to the Hell Master for conversation.

"..."

He was staring at me, quite uncomfortably in fact. Words died prematurely on my tongue as I failed to make basic quips.

The weight of Miller's peering gaze was slowly getting to me, it was like his aviator-clad eyes were slowly sapping away my strength. I started to fidget in place.

"I...um...eh," I pitifully murmured out

Actually- why is he even looking at me like that. I returned the look Miller was giving me.

Query: Why is Master Miller staring at me?

Fact: Kazuhira Miller is viewing me in a cute stimulating manner.

Gee, Miller. What do you do in your past-time? Look at kittens and puppies? Stop viewing me in a cute way for fucks sake! I'm nineteen goddamnit!

"Woah! Sorry, alright? I didn't mean to indecently stare at you like that," Kazuhira apologised again, flinching back as if he saw something spooky, "it's just… I don't think I've ever seen somebody with... exotic hair like yours before - not that it's a bad thing, of course, I've seen a whole rainbow of hair colors, red, blue, purple, green, blonde. The whole works, but… red and black combined in a zebra pattern? I have never seen anything like that before, but again, it isn't a bad thing… just exotic is all."

"Wait, what?" I asked, confused while holding up an embarrassed hand to my retardedly colored - if smooth and silky hair.

"Oh… nevermind that, it's just your face… became blank for a better lack of a word, like a doll in a disturbing way if you catch my drift," Kazuhira said.

Weird, but okay- actually, speaking of which.

"Hey, you said something about Metal Gear Solid earlier, does that mean you-"

"Worked with Kojima-san? Totally, as a matter of fact, that wasn't the first time we've worked together too," Kazuhira interrupted me, "we used to work together in… let's just call it military-related business back in the 70s, he was the head of our Intelligence Division, a young guy for sure, but was damn good at what he did, in fact, there used to be a running gag among our co-workers that he was omniscient and therefore "God" he was immensely embarrassed by this, of course, but we all got our innocent kicks out of it too, and this was before Mother Base got-" Miller cut himself off, his face contorting as if remembering something awful,

"...nevermind that, how about I get you something else? Like a burger, do you have any preferences?" Kazuhira continued, his tone muted and soft.

In the 70s? How old is Miller then? He barely looks a day over twenty-nine! Actually-

"Just give me something with bacon in it, oh and this may sound a bit strange but what's today?" I asked.

"Bacon huh? Alright, I can do that… and to answer your question there it's Wednesday, July 29th, 2020," Kazuhira answered.

"Wait, how old are you then-"

"Drop it," he interrupted with a tone of annoyance.

I flinched in place as he glared at me with hidden-eyes that were laced with a feeling of finality.

"You know… it isn't every night that a pretty little girl like yourself strolls in right here with a vulgar black hoodie that knows my name, with that in mind, I think I'm owed a name, don't you think?" Miller casually said while walking over to a grill and turning it on.

What now? And… I mean… ahh to hell with it, what could go wrong at this point?

"Eh... alright, alright. My name is…"

I cut myself off.

What's my name?

...What's my name? WHAT'S MY NAME! I DON'T KNOW WHAT MY NAME IS!

I became woozy and my heart dropped to my stomach again, becoming a pit of existential anxiety as I tried to remember my fleeting name.

"I… m-my name is…" I stuttered out my words in a scared fashion as the beginnings of a panic attack began to set in.

Miller noticed my panicked state. "Woah... hey! Are you okay?! You going sick on me kid?"

His words fell on my muted ears as the roar of blood overcame my sense of hearing. The shadows in the corners of the room lengthened into jutting, wide pillars of darkness, threatening to overtake my vision and distorting the soft light into malformed figures.

The stool I was sitting on toppled over as I quickly stood up, fearfully backing away before I turned around and bolted for the exit.

"Hey!"

Everything spun and danced in my disoriented vision, my breath stopped, I couldn't breathe. I sped up the stairs as fast as I could, only for my foot to catch onto a stair and send me flying out of the bead curtain and into the street.

My body flailed around like a fish on the road, the superhuman speed that I had conjured punishing me for my inexperienced and reckless use.

WHY CAN'T I BREATHE! WHAT'S MY NAME!HELPME!IWANTMAMA!!!!!HELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELP

I thrashed about wildly, trying to find semblance in this chaotic dystopia that my mind had made up.

...A firm hand softly gripped my shoulder and another one landed gently on my back as I rolled over.

"I want you to do two things for me okay?" A muffled voice rang out, "I want you to breathe and listen to the sound of my voice alright?"

Breathe… I tried, but couldn't, all I could do was choke and gag.

"It's fine, just breathe okay? You can do it, I know you can," the calm, muffled voice said.

And so I did, I breathed in, as fast as I could.

"Easy now! Nice and slow, breathe in nice and slow."

I did as he asked and slowly but surely, everything became clear. The roar of pulsing blood faded into nothing, the darkness that had threatened my vision dispersed into clarity and I was greeted with a dark open street, free of any incoming vehicles.

"There, now then. Are you okay?" The voice- no Miller had said.

"I… did I jus'… oh jumpin' Jesus…" I blurted out in my native accent.

"Don't talk, just focus on calming down okay," Kazuhira told me, "...hell, I should've known better… it was right there! The damn hoodie should've told me everything I needed to know," he angrily continued.

"Whassat now?" I questioned.

"It's nothing, here, let me help you up," Kazuhira said, bringing his hand from my shoulder and to my hand.

Helping me get up, Miller gestured back to the restaurant. "I already knew that you didn't have any money and I was gonna question why you were out here so late at night… but I think I know why now. I knew this town was pretty rough around the edges but to have something like… ugh, nevermind. It's alright though, you're safe now."

Half of his muttering passed over my head as we made our way back inside, passing the two tables by the entrance, Miller walked ahead and made his way back to his usual station behind the counter.

I followed and saw the stool that I toppled over during my panic attack. Picking the seat up, I sat it upright before sitting down on it.

...And after that? Nothing, I simply gathered my bearings while Miller worked on his grill.

Time seemed to pass by fast, I don't even know long I sat there-

The sound of a plate being set broke me out of my thoughts, it was a burger, simple in construction, just a bun, bacon and the patty.

"This one's on the house, you're probably hungry after that mess earlier," Kazuhira spoke.

"Uh… thank's," I responded.

"No problem."

I pulled down my sleeves and grabbed hold of the freshly made burger. The smell was amazing, it was better than the apartment, better than the industrial air of Japan, better than the wild greenery of the forest before I had burned it all away.

Without hesitation, I bit into it. Fuck, this is good… I savored the taste of bacon and beef greatly.

I looked back to Miller who seemed to be in deep thought.

Actually… you know what? Fuck it, in for a penny, in for a pound.

"Hey," I called out to Kazuhira.

Master Miller perked up. "Hmm?"

"I never told you my name," I swallowed the remnants that I had chewed off my burger, "its Bubbles."

"What? Your name is what now?" He replied in confusion.

I sighed and gave Miller the blankest look I could manage. "My name is Pomf-là Chu-Chu Bubbles Pom-Pom…"

What a fucking retarded name that I gave this abomination of a character… but it was worth it because the look of sheer WTF coming from Miller was ungodly funny.

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

Five months... I have been writing this fucking thing for FIVE months. And look at the word count too. 12k words... you would think that it would at least be 30k with that amount of time put into it... but for fucks sake, might as well say it now. I am a very lazy author as of late and I mean LAZY. It takes me several hours just to even write a few fucking hundred words... and then there would be times where I pretty much stopped writing this dock for weeks at a time... Its something that I desperately want to beat out of me but I don't know how truth be told.

Also, hype for Lore-based powers and Mods BABY!

Anyway, my lamentations of my poor work ethic and writing ability aside, I might as well answer some predictive self-made questions that I made because I am a socially dead fool that does indeed think that far ahead. (By proxy here, hopefully, I can answer any general questions that you the readers may have.)

Predictive Question 1: Bruh, we all fucking saw that vomit-inducing purple prose in front of the mirror cliche shit when you first described Bubbles, fuck outta here with that Mary Sue bullshit, here I thought I was gonna get a nice story filled (Insert personal reasons to make the story better for equally personal reasons) Fucking' A... My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined...

Answer: Truth be told, I did that on purpose. A very short and rough explanation is that... I am a lazy writer (big surprise there.) and it was built upon the character of Bubbles. (The man he was before getting thrown into his Skyrim Character.) for reasons I'll hopefully be able to reveal later down the line (that is if I don't cringe fucking hardcore and die via heart-attack first)

Now then... Predictive Question 2: Why the hell is Master Miller in here for?

Answer: For the sole purpose of World-Building and Character Development. To establish this a little bit more in-depth, essentially Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater and Peace Walker happened in this version of DxD. Ground Zeroes was an entirely different event and The Phantom Pain didn't even happen.

Predictive Question 3: Why did you name this story after the movie of the same name?

Answer: Corallate the meaning of the name to the MC's situation you'll have your answer then.

Predictive Question 4: Why the fuck is Bubbles so overpowered for? You're using the lore version and not the game one, he'll fucking stomp everything in the setting!

Answer: Not necessarily, DxD is a setting of raw escalation and is filled with Gods and the like and besides. I like to take things literally when the situation calls for it. Don't worry about it I got it
covered and if I don't then that's all right, cause I have y'all to help me out.

Predictive Question 5: How often do you update?

Answer: Considering the fact that it took me five months to write this one chapter? About as frequently as Kentaro Miura, and another truth be told I actually haven't watched DxD in over several years... if anything I'll probably read the first five or so volumes of the LN before getting started on the next chapter of this fic.

Okay... now with that out of the way, I realise two things now. One, I may need a beta cause this thing looks as rough as newly hewn ore! (Srsly, this thing is a fucking mess...) and two. I will say this the best I can, help me out will you? I'm a newborn writer, that means I suck at making a decent story that doesn't have character worship and all the BS. So to put this bluntly, gimme tips, suggestions, advice. I'm open to everything because the last thing I absolutely want is Author-Audience dissonance if you want to PM me or give a comment with the aforementioned tips or advice. I'm all down for it if it means making this story a better read for you and a more enjoyable experience for me to write it.

Redblood2222 · Oct 19, 2020

i have one question wtf is wrong in your head. i mean it is a great story but that name is funny as hell.

NuclearBirb · Oct 19, 2020

Im already invested in the tale od Pomf-là Chu-Chu Bubbles Pom-Pom, the Dragonborn. Also it doesnt matter if you only update once a year if you put out 12k words.

Sidvious · Oct 19, 2020

First of all, I feel it should be said, that font offends my eyes. It's too small. Second, good start, I'm curious to see where the Metal Gear stuff leads. I take it Force Without Balance was the inspiration btw?

Arc-on-Fire · Oct 19, 2020

Sidvious said:
First of all, I feel it should be said, that font offends my eyes. It's too small. Second, good start, I'm curious to see where the Metal Gear stuff leads. I take it Force Without Balance was the inspiration btw?

Dammit, I knew somebody was gonna say something about the font, I had my suspicions at first but I couldn't really preview the fonts for nothing because my browser's font is stuck in a perpetual state of showing me a terminal font... and to answer your second thing. HELL YEAH! Sir Lucifer Morningstar is a BA writer who makes some good shit. This was also a total rip off too when I started writing it, suffice to say when I was out doing the random thing, I asked myself a question "I gotta be original." Might as well do what he avoided, IE including Lore based Thu'um and everything else.

[EDIT Grammar]

Milkers99 · Oct 19, 2020

Author With A Trap Fetish said:
Fuck me… thirteen whole hours?!

Unrealistic!!! Skyrim would totaly crash after 30 minutes and then you'd give up after rebooting the game 4 times because it kept crashing!

Also i really like this!

Sidvious · Oct 19, 2020

Author With A Trap Fetish said:
my browser's font is stuck in a perpetual state of showing me a terminal font

Well that sounds like hell.

Author With A Trap Fetish said:
This was also a total rip off too when I started writing it, suffice to say when I was out doing the random thing, I asked myself a question "I gotta be original."

You tell where it came from for sure, but it's different enough that it doesn't hit the same tracks, or at least doesn't feel like it, so good job on that.

Ashborn · Oct 27, 2020

Redblood2222 said:
i have one question wtf is wrong in your head. i mean it is a great story but that name is funny as hell.

This was a Skyrim character specifically designed to climb the throat of the world, draw forth the notched pickaxe, and scream "TROLOLOLOLOL!!!" to the heavens, in Dovahzul, while riding Lydia like a pony. I think the name is pretty on point.

Mikers99 said:
Unrealistic!!! Skyrim would totaly crash after 30 minutes and then you'd give up after rebooting the game 4 times because it kept crashing!

World transfers such as this typically involve some form of unnatural or unholy abomination of a being and/or ritual. I'd say managing to get thirteen continuous hours out of Skyrim counts.

Arc-on-Fire · Oct 27, 2020

Ashborn said:
This was a Skyrim character specifically designed to climb the throat of the world, draw forth the notched pickaxe, and scream "TROLOLOLOLOL!!!" to the heavens, in Dovahzul, while riding Lydia like a pony. I think the name is pretty on point.

World transfers such as this typically involve some form of unnatural or unholy abomination of a being and/or ritual. I'd say managing to get thirteen continuous hours out of Skyrim counts.

Replace Lydia with a horribly deformed, quadrupedal macho-man Randy Savage and add on to the fact that Bubbles would probably make his character dance erotically while clipping through the ground like a motherfucker for 30 ingame minutes after summoning a bipedal bear with a lute that in turn, plays the Dick Dale cover of Miserlou in true garbage MIDI fashion.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that he has Tails from Sonic as a follower... but he's just as beefy as Broly from Dragon Ball and he changed his name to the most Redneck Powerlifter name ever

HIS NAME IS FUCKING CLEETUS!

(I'm so horribly sorry, I don't know what I'm doing shitposting on QQ at 7 in the morning, forgive me...)

PrinceJonathan · Oct 27, 2020

Author With A Trap Fetish said:
Reaching inside, I grabbed at what felt like a hilt that was wrapped in fine cloth. Pulling it out, I realised what it was, it was a katana, its blade lengthy and seemingly made out of gold.

Goldbrand…

I don't know what the fuck is going on, but as soon as I read this I immediately thought "Go to Hell, Carolina" would make an excellent activation phrase to change Goldbrand into Eltonbrand for when you're in a serious fight.

Arc-on-Fire · Oct 27, 2020

PrinceJonathan said:
I don't know what the fuck is going on, but as soon as I read this I immediately thought "Go to Hell, Carolina" would make an excellent activation phrase to change Goldbrand into Eltonbrand for when you're in a serious fight.

I stared blankly at the gray, cracked apartment walls.

...Hmm. Actually!

Holding out my hand, I opened up a golden portal to my inventory, reaching in, I pulled out Goldbrand once more to properly marvel at its blade and construction.

Looking at the golden blade and its black hilt wrapped finely in black cloth, I took the time too-

WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT HAPPENED TO GOLDBRAND?!

Its blade was vandalised for a better lack of word. it was scored with an odd number on both sides of the blade, the etchings were repeated all across, black in color as if to fill in the scratches the vandal had left behind. 11171. It seemingly covered the entirety of the blade.

Looking close to the hilt, near the tsuba, there was a quote written in an odd font. "Go to Hell Carolina!" -The Bluedevil AKA Krzyzewski.

Before putting the vandalised blade away, I noted the feelings of childish spite and anger, it felt like someone had just lost a game and was salty about it.

"..." What fucking even?

(Why did I write this for?)

PrinceJonathan · Oct 27, 2020

Author With A Trap Fetish said:
(Why did I write this for?)

Because any Elder Scrolls fanfic that uses Goldbrand needs to have Eltonbrand as well. It may be a silly Easter egg, but the weapon is superior to Goldbrand in every way.

Zerothewarhound · Oct 31, 2020

Great work can't wait for more

Arc-on-Fire · Oct 31, 2020

Zerothewarhound said:
Great work can't wait for more

Thank's man! Your words are appreciated a hella lot.

Narmish · Oct 31, 2020

This is incredibly weird, but somehow good?

Arc-on-Fire · Oct 31, 2020

Narmish said:
This is incredibly weird, but somehow good?

It's because of Bubbles' appearance and Master Miller isn't it, I damn well know it is.

LordMentat · Nov 2, 2020

Author With A Trap Fetish said:
Koyaanisqatsi

I see this story will be out of balance.

Arc-on-Fire · Nov 2, 2020

LordMentat said:
I see this story will be out of balance.

Insert Phillip Glass and ominous death glares. It'll also be crazy and disintegrating along with living in a way that calls for another way of life.

My bullshit aside, I'm actually kinda glad that someone caught onto the title. Godfrey's capital movie seems to be pretty underground these days truth be told. Hope you enjoyed my fic of loony writing.

Also, if I ever start writing fictional in-depth metaphysics and lessons for an equally fake primal being with metaphors around every fucking twist and turn like Michael Kirkbride then please, PLEASE... tell me to stop writing and to take up stone collecting as a replacement hobby, I don't wanna write some fucking wacky shit like C0DA. (And with that in mind... is C0DA fanfiction or canon. What do you think?)

LordMentat · Nov 2, 2020

Author With A Trap Fetish said:
Insert Phillip Glass and ominous death glares

Koyaanisqatsi was, in my opinion, one of his better albums.Tied with his Glassworks album.

Author With A Trap Fetish said:
(And with that in mind... is C0DA fanfiction or canon. What do you think?)

Considering he was one of THE devs for the ES games, the only reason it is not cannon is because he was sacked.

I will try to follow along as I can, but no promises. GenderBent/Trap fics are not my cup of tea.

Yinko · Nov 14, 2020

Author With A Trap Fetish said:
I sighed and gave Miller the blankest look I could manage. "My name is Pomf-là Chu-Chu Bubbles Pom-Pom…"

What a fucking retarded name that I gave this abomination of a character…

Hey, it's the man that makes the name, not the name that makes the man. Make people piss themselves in fear of the dread dragon lord Bubbles.

Maybe Mike · Nov 14, 2020

Honestly for all that it seems like a terrible overpowered fanfiction that only serves to be that one fanfiction first time writers feel inspired to write before later on dreading it ever being slightly mentioned. This is actually really really good! Its obviously not taking itself seriously, and I can even name like, at least five different ones that were trashier then this. Honestly, can't wait to read more of it next year! I'm super excited to read more! Also the idea of Bubbles Fos'ing the MC into the stratosphere makes me smile.

Arc-on-Fire · Nov 14, 2020

ThatGuyMike said:
Honestly for all that it seems like a terrible overpowered fanfiction that only serves to be that one fanfiction first time writers feel inspired to write before later on dreading it ever being slightly mentioned. This is actually really really good! Its obviously not taking itself seriously, and I can even name like, at least five different ones that were trashier then this. Honestly, can't wait to read more of it next year! I'm super excited to read more! Also the idea of Bubbles Fos'ing the MC into the stratosphere makes me smile.

"Honestly, can't wait to read more of it next year!"

>tfw somebody acknowledged my horrible, shitty work ethic.

(I only have a single fucking sentence written in the second chapter... and IIRC it's almost been a month since I uploaded the chapter.)

But yeah, Bubbles is fucking smurfed and overpowered to shit mostly cause of his cheated-to-fuck character's powers, armor's, weapons, artifacts and mod bullshit being translated to their (and read this) LORE VARIANT! And due to the fact that it's been almost been about a month since I released this chapter, I have endeavoured in learning as much as I can about the in-depth setting of TES... All of it, well... only the important stuff. And because of it I have a rather scruffy lorebeard regarding TES metaphysics, lore and cosmology at this point and since I like to stick as close as I can to the (debatable) canon of TES... so uhh yeah... I have my work cut out for me considering that Bubbles could (probably) stomp the ever-living shit out of the DxD setting.

Just to give you one example of the sheer hax that any Protagonist of the Elder Scrolls games has, let me introduce you to the metaphysical concept of

The Prisoner.

"What is that," you ask?

Good question. Sit down and get ready to scratch your head.

In The Elder Scrolls series, it's common knowledge that the Player Character often starts as a Prisoner with no background. This is a recurring element featured in almost every game since Arena, with the only exceptions coming from spin-off games such as Battlespire and Redguard. It is normally done so that the Players themselves can create their histories and immerse themselves in the world of the game, defining it as their own personal narrative. As Todd Howard likes to say:

"

Go where you want to! Be who you want to be!

"

However, unlike to what many think, this is not simply a convenience used because Bethesda is lazy and has a prison fetish, quite the contrary. In truth, the Prisoner is a cosmic constant which pervades throughout the Godhead's Dream.

Sotha Sil's dialogue in Elder Scrolls Online is likely the most straightforward indication that the Prisoner is a Cosmic Constant who holds great power, with the Clockwork God even stating that the Prisoner is free from deterministic fate and causality, thus being capable of making their own choices.

Sotha Sil: The Prisoner wields great power, making reality of metaphor. We will need you before the end.
Vestige: Why do you keep calling me the Prisoner?
Sotha Sil: A fool's hope, perhaps. I should explain.
Look around you. All of this exists because it must exist. I stand here, in this place, in this moment, not because I wish to, but because I have to. A result of action and consequence.

Vestige: So wouldn't that make you the prisoner?
Sotha Sil: Clever... but incorrect.
The Prisoner must apprehend two critical insights. First, they must face the reality of their imprisonment. They must see the determinative walls - the chains of causality that bind them to their course.

Vestige: You haven't done that?

Sotha Sil: I have. But I fall short of the second insight.
The Prisoner must see the door to their cell. They must gaze through the bars and perceive that which exists beyond causality. Beyond time. Only then can they escape.

Vestige: You don't see the door?

Sotha Sil: I see only unsteady walls.
If the people of Tamriel must exist inside this cell. I will make sure that the walls are stable, the gaps are sealed, and all who remain stay safe within it.

Vestige: I have no other questions.

Sotha Sil: I've met few heroes like you. Very few. I take this matter of the Triad upon myself, but in truth, you may be the one that saves us. The Prisoner who frees the world. We shall see.
Farewell.

Other indications of this idea can also be found in Elder Scrolls Online, with the Prophet and AI(OS), a Moth Priest who has read the Elder Scrolls and an A.I (Automata Incarnum) which administers the Clockwork City respectively, stating that the Vestige is a wound in the fabric of time which exists outside of all possibility.

AIOS: Beginning entity analysis. Entity exists outside known possipoints. Transitioning to general reception array.
Hello.

The Prophet: It's good to see you again. I do see you, in my own way. You are a wound in time, a tear in reality that shouldn't exist and cannot long endure.

However, this concept isn't a retcon invented for Elder Scrolls Online, but rather a consistent idea that has been present in the series since The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind. To begin, read the following Nerevarine Prophecies showcased in the game, and note how both of them emphasize how the Chosen Hero is a stranger, born under uncertain stars to uncertain parents.

"On a certain day to uncertain parents
Incarnate moon and star reborn.

Neither blight nor age can harm him.
The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies.

In caverns dark Azura's eye sees
And makes to shine the Moon and Star.

A stranger's voice unites the Houses.
Three Halls call him Hortator.

A stranger's hand unites the Velothi.
Four Tribes call him Nerevarine."
- The Seven Visions

"When earth is sundered, and skies choked black,
And sleepers serve the seven curses,
To the hearth there comes a stranger,
Journeyed far 'neath Moon and Star.

Though stark-born to sire uncertain,
His aspect marks his certain fate.
Wicked stalk him, righteous curse him.
Prophets speak, but all deny.
Many trials make manifest
The stranger's fate, the curse's bane.
Many touchstones try the stranger.
Many fall, but one remains."

- The Stranger
This may not seem like much proof, so let us look at the 36 Lessons of Vivec next. They also prophecize the coming of the Nerevarine, referring to the Hortator as the Ruling King:

"The ruling king is to stand against me and then before me. He is to learn from my punishment. I will mark him to know. He is to come as male or female. I am the form he must acquire.

Because a ruling king that sees in another his equivalent rules nothing."
- The 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon Thirteen

"You have discovered the thirty-seventh Sermon of Vivec, which is a bending of the light, long past the chronicles of the Hortator who wore inconstant faces and ruled however they would, until apocalypse."
- The 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon Thirty Seven

The first quote states that that the Nerevarine will come as male or female, and the second states that the Nerevarine wore inconstant faces and ruled however they would.

These quotes make reference to how the Nerevarine - as the Player Character - has his race, gender, appearance, and actions all determined by the player's desires, rather by predetermined programming. An even more blatant example of this can be found in the C0DA Prequel, Landfall: Day One, where the Nerevarine is literally a shapeless, multi-racial being who quantum-vibrates between several forms:

PIC 1: Through the breach, the gigantic form of Akulakhan looks down at all of us, unreadable hope in its eyes. Its third eye is open, with the barely discernible head of the Nerevarine serving as its pilot, the gender and race either indistinct or, if you prefer to render it this way: simply just "quantum-vibrating" too fast to tell.
- Landfall: Day One

But there's also something else at play. Look back at Sotha Sil's quote from before:

"All of this exists because it must exist. I stand here, in this place, in this moment, not because I wish to, but because I have to. A result of action and consequence.
(...)

The Prisoner must apprehend two critical insights. First, they must face the reality of their imprisonment. They must see the determinative walls - the chains of causality that bind them to their course.
(...)

The Prisoner must see the door to their cell. They must gaze through the bars and perceive that which exists beyond causality. Beyond time. Only then can they escape."

As previously established, the Elder Scrolls Universe is a Prison dreamt by the Godhead, and all beings in it are creations and manifestation of its Boundless consciousness. As such, they have no true Free Will of their own, as all their thoughts and actions are determined by chains of causality and consequence set by the Dreamer.

The Prisoner is the exception to this rule. They are able to perceive the truth of the Prison that surrounds then, and see the chains that bind them. Further, the Prisoner can see the door to their cell, and gaze through to see what lies outside, beyond time and determinist causality: Freedom.

"Unless, of course, there's a loophole. Say, something like the someone called the Dovahkiin happening to show up..."born under uncertain stars to uncertain parents." (An aside for extra credit: what in the Aurbis makes the Prisoner such a powerful mythic figure?)"
- Michael Kirkbride

This is why the Nerevarine is born to uncertain parents under uncertain stars, and is of either gender and any race. This is why the Vestige is a tear in reality that exists outside possibility. Because as Prisoners, they aren't part of the Godhead's determinist will, and are able to make choices for themselves.

(copy and pasted from here.) Seriously check it out. It offers some good insight of TES in vairing kinds.)

So, in tiny, bite-sized form. The Dovahkiin (And by extension Bubbles) is Acasual and can quite literally "Do everything at once"

That's only part of what The Dovahkiin can do .. and let's not mention the fact that The Dovahkiin is not only Dragonborn but also a (possible) Shezarrine as well... Yeah, I have my work horribly cut out for me and I realize now of what kind of loony, wacky fucking story that I'm making.

But don't worry, I have the framework of a crazy-ass plot in mind that (hopefully) covers the sheer gap of things alone... or it crashes and burns and I get my wings burned off like Icarus and I get horribly demoralized because of it. Oh well, what's life without risk hmm?

(Sorry for the wordy post, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing writing this, it's 2:30 in the morning right now where I live... so uh, sorry for polluting the thread with this meta bullshit.)

Narmish · Nov 14, 2020

If you have decided to do justice to the lore then I applaud you. It is rare that someone truly tries to tackle the metaphysical and divine level issues that TES has. Bubbles might fit in with his level of insanity, just a tad bit different kind of insanity.

Rockinalice · Nov 14, 2020

You can do it I have faith and i m glad you taking up this challenge for us

PrinceJonathan · Nov 14, 2020

Author With A Trap Fetish said:
I have my work cut out for me considering that Bubbles could (probably) stomp the ever-living shit out of the DxD setting.

You say that like it's a bad thing. God is dead in DxD, so I say why not take over the job? The Dark Lord Bubbles the Silly Shota Trap.

Or introduce the world to a new God. I'd love to see Molag Bal rape the shit out of the entire setting.

Author With A Trap Fetish said:

Oh no, that gif! I can't help it!

*head starts bobbing to the beat*

♪Money don't matter if it feels for you.♪
♪Money don't matter if you're hi-hi-high.♪
♪Money don't matter if it feels for you.♪
♪I used to worry everyday.♪
♪Now I got better things.♪

Author With A Trap Fetish said:
The Prisoner must see the door to their cell. They must gaze through the bars and perceive that which exists beyond causality. Beyond time. Only then can they escape.

Valen Dreth: "My, my, you're a small one. A Shota, I'd guess, right? So girly... But you can't take a fat cock, can you boy? You can't do anything to get out of here. And those tiny balls? They're going to waste away. When the end comes, you won't even have the strength to cry for your mother. That's right. You're going to die in here. You hear me, Shota? You're going to die in here!"

Arc-on-Fire · Nov 14, 2020

Narmish said:
If you have decided to do justice to the lore then I applaud you. It is rare that someone truly tries to tackle the metaphysical and divine level issues that TES has. Bubbles might fit in with his level of insanity, just a tad bit different kind of insanity.

I accept your praise with a humble nod. The number of mental gymnastics I'm gonna have to do in order to not make this story total hot shit is gonna be fucking mind staggering, hopefully, the plot I have in mind will work and progress forward without me having to use... (shivers in fear) a Dragon Break... OH GOD NOT THE DRAGON BREAK'S PLEASE NO!. (I hope I can do it right anyway, cause not only do I have TES to research about but... the thing is... I included the fact that DxD within this fic share's its setting with Metal Gear Solid... Yep, quite the amount of work I accidentally set up for myself.)

Rockinalice said:
You can do it I have faith and i m glad you taking up this challenge for us

Your faith is much appreciated, my friend, I hope I can live up to your expectations.

PrinceJonathan said:
You say that like it's a bad thing. God is dead in DxD, so I say why not take over the job? The Dark Lord Bubbles the Silly Shota Trap.

Or introduce the world to a new God. I'd love to see Molag Bal rape the shit out of the entire setting.

Oh no, that gif! I can't help it!

*head starts bobbing to the beat*

♪Money don't matter if it feels for you.♪
♪Money don't matter if you're hi-hi-high.♪
♪Money don't matter if it feels for you.♪
♪I used to worry everyday.♪
♪Now I got better things.♪

Valen Dreth: "My, my, you're a small one. A Shota, I'd guess, right? So girly... But you can't take a fat cock, can you boy? You can't do anything to get out of here. And those tiny balls? They're going to waste away. When the end comes, you won't even have the strength to cry for your mother. That's right. You're going to die in here. You hear me, Shota? You're going to die in here!"

First of all, I gotta say one thing. "YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Secondly, is it just me or does everybody seem to expect that Bubbles is gonna go down the path of a certain Mad Crusader? I mean, don't get me wrong. I know that all Dov have an innate desire to dominate and all that jazz (and trust me, it'll show in the story, just in a different way.) It's just that people seem to think that Bubbles is gonna go on this mad stomping rampage until everything is either killed to death or his, and IIRC someone else is already doing a fic about that, just without the intense lore and crossover bullshit and I gotta be original.

It's not that I'm trying to disclose any expectations, it's just that I'm confused as to what those expectations are. (And with that being said, I'm totally open to any suggestions or advice that you guys might have.)

PrinceJonathan said:
Valen Dreth: "My, my, you're a small one. A Shota, I'd guess, right? So girly... But you can't take a fat cock, can you boy? You can't do anything to get out of here. And those tiny balls? They're going to waste away. When the end comes, you won't even have the strength to cry for your mother. That's right. You're going to die in here. You hear me, Shota? You're going to die in here!"

This...

Ahem...

I wonder if you'll be able to stay horny after I reveal Bubbles' backstory. (Bullshit aside, thank's for your comment man. Means a lot.)

PrinceJonathan · Nov 14, 2020

Author With A Trap Fetish said:
Secondly, is it just me or does everybody seem to expect that Bubbles is gonna go down the path of a certain Mad Crusader?

I'm more expecting him to conquer the world by looking adorable and having all of the girls fawn over him. I wouldn't go full Whitestrake unless someone kills his Huna.

♪Song ends. Of a knight called Pelinal. Song ends. Oh Star-made Knight. Whitestrake Pelinal.♪

Author With A Trap Fetish said:
This...

Sorry, you just had Sotha Sil talking about the Prisoner gazing through the bars of the prison cell and all I could think of is a metaphysical Valen Dreth in the cell on the other side and what he would likely say.

Arc-on-Fire · Dec 12, 2020

So... since this has been eating me up for the past week or so, I'd figure that I might as well give y'all an update as to what's going on.

Now, it's almost been two months since I released the latest chapter and y'all might be wondering how much of the next chapter is completed and... well, to answer your question, let me check.

*Looks at the next chapter on my Google Doc drive.*

...Hmm, looks like I've done about five sentences since the last chapter was released!

...Holy shit, what a fucking disappointment.

I know...

So, an explanation is in order.

See, the issue here isn't that I'm constrained from writing due to a job or anything like that, quite the opposite actually, I have a lot of free time and since free time = the time to write. If that's the case, then why the hell aren't you writing then? Do you have writer's block/muse silence?

To be blunt, no. I've already planned out the next chapter. It's just that I can't well... Write it for a better lack of a word. For some fucking reason, I just can't put the ideas I've cultivated in my head onto the digital paper that I'm using. It's like all the ideas just become so abstract and loose that it just strips my mental dictionary all the way down to the most bare-bone words that leave a bland taste in my mouth.

And to make things worse. Whenever I start to "write", I get this pain-in-the-ass phantom fatigue that makes me feel like I haven't slept and ends up making me feel like a lobotomite that hovers his hands over the keyboard while going "duhhhhh" like a goddamn caveman, it pisses me off to no end and makes me feel like I'm doing a chore instead of a recreational hobby.

To make things worse... I know for a fact that I can sit down and write one or two thousand words in a single sitting, I've done it before.

Ugh... all this time wasted has made me demoralized to the nth degree. It's not even funny anymore. I've seen other writers pop out 4k words a day on their own fics. Like how the fuck do they even do that? It's crazy how people can write that much. Whereas for me, I feel like I'm doing a damn marathon just to reach a few hundred words in the span of several hours.

Shit... What a horrible night to have a curse.

(And with that said, if any of you are wondering if I'm going to abandon the story, don't worry I have no intention anytime soon of doing that. I'm just lamenting at my seemingly crippled ability to write.)

Koyaanisqatsi [An Elder Scrolls crossover with High School DxD]

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Getting sticky.

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I Push Button

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