#dia’s earth room

[searchsystem]

Walter De Maria / Dia Art Foundation / The New York Earth Room / Sculpture  / 1977

#walter de maria #dia art foundation #the new york earth room #sculpture #1977 #art #installation

[evanpetersmybf]

All he asked for was you

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Tate loves you too much. He would do anything for you, to keep you by his side, to make you love him forever. He would cross any line to make you his, it doesn't matter how evil it is... But was it really worth it?

Genre: ANGST!! and some smut

Word count: 5,104

Warnings: Obsessive, stalkish and violent behavior, implicit toxic relationship; mentions of weapons, murder, mental health issues, family issues, school shooting; use of Y/N, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v. (i hope i'm not missing any...) NOT PROOFREAD !!

A/N: English isn't my first language!! Sorry if I have some mistakes and if Tate's a bit ooc (i tried to keep him in character as much as i could). I wasn't sure (and still not) if this is good but I spent days writing it, so I had to post it.

A small playlist with songs that inspired me for this: monster by meg and dia, pacify her by melanie martinez, all i want is you by rebzyyx, skyfall by adele, psycho by doko, paparazzi by lady gaga, dark red by steve lacy.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

Tate never believed in love, nor was he a romantic one. 

In fact, he despised it. How could he even believe in that feeling when he never felt loved by his own mother? At least that’s what he pretended.

The blond always had the facade of a tough guy, although he couldn’t fool anyone. Constance knew well he was a sensitive boy. Probably the most crybaby ever to exist… And the most unstable one.

Now he was here. His chest going up and down, breathing shallow and fast. His eyes were darting around the room, looking for something or perhaps someone. Some silly tears were rolling down his cheeks while he anxiously fidgeted with a ring on his finger. The clock on the wall continued its tick-tack. The time kept running. His heart kept beating. It was getting late.

He refused to look at the wooden floor. He didn’t want to accept reality. If Tate did that, he would feel like the biggest monster on Earth.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stay like this.

He had to do something real fast.

Today, 18:40

You were supposed to arrive at 19:00.

But he remained there, next to the corpse of his rival. A bloody ax beside the dead man’s bleeding head.

Whom he thought was his worst enemy, was someone really dear to you.

Well, Tate fervently believed this was something justified. He couldn’t stand that fucking asshole anymore! That scumbag needed to be put back in his place. And Tate only did that. Furthermore, he actually helped him. He took him away from this shitty world. It was a favor.

He had already killed his mother’s boyfriend, so why was he feeling guilty?

Maybe because his victim was special to you. Because his death would hurt you. And Langdon swore to God he would never let anybody or anything hurt you, including himself.

He loved you.

He wanted to be the one to hold your hand forever.

Tate snapped back to the present and frowned. He picked up the weapon, putting it in his backpack. He didn’t even mind cleaning it. Then, he proceeded to knelt right next to the lifeless dude and cleaned the blood surrounding his body; afterwards, he dragged him to the basement and…

19:00

A knock on the door.

You arrived.

“DAMN IT!” 

He left his dead foe lying limp on the cold basement ground and quickly ran upstairs, straight to his room. He also left the backpack there.

Tate spent the last twenty minutes cleaning the mess he made in the living room after he atrociously smashed your friend’s head, forgetting that had poor time to get ready. 

He desperately looked for clean clothes, scrambling the entire closet in search of fresh garments while he cussed at himself, at his mother, at that freaking boy, at the entire world but you.

Finally he found some jeans and a striped shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror after changing and cleaned the tiny drops of blood that stayed on his face and hands. He never realized he left the bloody clothing on the bed.

Another knock.

19:07

Tate opened the door, immediately throwing himself at you and giving you one of the warmest hugs. His demeanor with you was completely different; you were the only creature capable of changing his fucked up mind into something more beautiful, more peaceful. The issue was that it only happened when he was with you, otherwise he would be aggressive and rude as usual.

You got the best of him. 

“Missed you so fuckin’ much, babe…” Voice muffled since his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Tate always did the same thing; clinging onto you like a small koala would.

“Heh, me too, hun!” You spoke with the same soothing voice he adored. Tate giggled and placed a tender kiss on your jawline, then another, and another, and another.

Soon enough, he was peppering kisses all over your neck, making you moan softly. Oh those sounds. He could hear you melting under his touch, his embrace, for the rest of eternity.

He loved making you squirm, making you laugh, making you feel loved.

He was way too sweet.

Only if you knew.

Four weeks before today…

Tate has always had the bad habit of stalking you. Yeah… He wasn’t proud of it. But can you blame him? He’s constantly afraid of you leaving him. He wanted to make sure you never did so… Otherwise he would die. Literally.

Don’t ask how he would die. You already know the answer.

You two were supposed to have a date, albeit you had to cancel your meeting.

And that, of course, made him overthink. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you were going to study; he felt betrayed, as if you were rejecting him. And Tate hated and feared rejection to the bone.

“Pretty please? Please, Y/N! I don’t wanna go home early, mom’s gonna be there and-and–”

“Tate, I can’t skip this. I have like, a test every day next week and I must study. I don’t wanna fail. Please, sweetie. I promise I’ll make it up to ya’, mhm?” 

He rolled his eyes and whined, almost throwing a tantrum. He didn’t try to manipulate you on purpose. It came out naturally. “But I need you, Y/N! Why do you always do the same, huh? Am I not that important? Don’t you love me any longer?”

His childish crying continued for a couple of minutes, until it stopped and the blond agreed a deal with you.

You thought he was calm now, but no. How naive.

You went to the library to study as you said… Without noticing he followed you.

Quietly, he got into that maze of books after you and hid behind some shelves.

Tate noticed you sat on an empty table. Thank God. Oh?

Who. Is. He.

A man Tate didn’t know sat next to you. Really close. Too close for Tate’s liking. He tried to think he was a stranger, that he wasn’t going to talk to you… He was wrong.

He clenched his hands into a ball when he saw that idiot talking to you, and the worst part was that you followed suit. It seemed you two were friends or something.

How DARE YOU talk to another man? No, how dare you talk to another HUMAN BEING!?

Tate was insecure 24/7.

If you weren’t there, Tate was falling apart. It was simple.

No Y/N, no happy Tate. Was it too hard to understand?

Three weeks before today…

It was Friday. Tate was impatiently waiting for you outside the campus, hanging a small bouquet of flowers he picked up.

Once he spotted you coming out from the building, he waved his hand and embraced you tightly once you were in front of him. He gave you the adorable present.

“Tate!”

“How did you do? Did you pass your tests? Don’t tell me, I’m sure you did.” Said, grinning from ear to ear. He was away from you for an entire week. How did he survive? He didn’t know, but he was glad to have you with him again. “Tell me about your life in the last days, baby. Please? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!”

There he was, the one and only drama queen Tate Langdon.

You talked about the tests, about how the teachers were being a pain in the ass (which clearly triggered in him the intense desire of hurting them because they stressed you), and… About a guy. The same guy from the library, with whom you spent the entire last week studying. He couldn’t stand it. He saw him as a threat to your relationship, especially since he was an old friend that you met many years ago. 

As the days went by, you gave him more reasons to hate that jerk. Why? Well of course because you spent hours at the library doing homework or studying with him. Or even hanging out with him and other people.

In reality, you went out with him to a museum just once, and then skating with other colleagues. Nothing compared to the time you spent with Tate; in a week, you would hang out with him almost daily, and if you were way too busy, he would go to your place and spend the night there. He was so attached to you to the point he had to see you at least once a day. And that’s why he was so jealous of your friend. Tate couldn’t stand the idea of you sharing your life with someone else who wasn’t him or your family… And he also got jealous of them, but he was handling it.

Two weeks before today.

After Tate’s pleas, you decided to introduce your friend to him.

Probably a big mistake.

The date was really awkward; your friend tried being nice, and Tate acted surprisingly kind. Of course it was odd; usually, he despised all of your friends and treated them badly, yet this time was different. You were stunned, however, you tried to ignore it and instead got happy as he finally accepted a random person as your buddy. 

Still and all, he hated that moron. It didn’t matter how much he tried liking your pal, he was jealous of him. He was getting on his nerves. He denied the fact that you had more love for other people that wasn’t him. Tate desired being your only one. Your number one. Your entire world. Because that’s what you were for him. And he was willing to do whatever to keep you with him.

Tate exchanged numbers with him and meticulously plotted a plan to ascertain he would never talk to you ever again. At first, it came out as a simple “I’m gonna scare the shit outta him”, nonetheless, it turned into a darker idea, very likely involving physical violence.

One week before today…

The last few days, Tate won Peter’s trust. Ah yes. That’s your friend's name. You were glad that he finally opened his warm heart and began to meet more people besides you.

You thought he needed a friend, an empathetic person who could support the blond when you weren’t available, that way he would feel less lonely and depressed.

They went to the cinema, to the arcade, even to a music store. Everything was going according to what he planned.

Eventually, he invited Peter to his place to play chess and other board games on a Sunday afternoon, before you arrived and had a date with Tate due to your anniversary. 

Today, 16:00

Peter and Tate were eating pizza and having a great noon, talking about their lives and random stuff, like school and music. They both enjoyed Nirvana, and since Peter played the guitar, he agreed on teaching your boy how to.

If it weren’t for Tate’s twisted mind, they would’ve been best friends.

The guitarist wasn’t a bad guy. He was a great buddy that really appreciated you and the crybaby, but Langdon had something else in mind.

18:00

The men watched a movie. Tate didn’t even know its name; in fact, he didn’t even pay attention to it. Instead, he was focused on his next actions, plotting them carefully.

“Crap, mom’s gonna arrive soon…” Tate mumbled with annoyance, biting his nails and tapping his foot on the floor. He was lying. You were going to arrive, not Constance.

“Damn, bro. Well, I don’t have a problem. I wanna meet her.”

“Huh? No no no, you shouldn’t. That bitch is crazy.”

Peter scoffed, disagreeing with Tate’s rude manner to call his own momma.

“Hey, you shouldn’t talk like that. I bet she loves you!”

That pissed him off. “You don’t know anything, Peter. Your family is different. Your life’s different. You won’t understand!” He yelled, standing up from the couch and now pacing around the room, trying to keep it calm.

“Dude, calm down!

“NO! I fucking won’t!”

The screaming continued for a while. Tate revealed his unstable and crystal self. Even something so insignificant could drive him to the edge, like what happened today. That definitely surprised the other one, who used to think that Tate was a sweet boy. “I dunno why Y/N is dating you.”

“What did you say?” Tate abruptly stopped pacing.

“Y/N. Y/N doesn’t deserve you.”

“WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT!?” He pounced on Peter, gripping his neck with one rough hand, applying enough pressure on the sides to stop the blood circulation in his carotids and make him lose consciousness.

Before passing out, Peter, getting pale, managed to croak out: “Because she deserves better…”

Soon enough, he fainted, giving Tate minutes to think about what else to do. 

Your boyfriend wasn’t planning on murdering Peter today. No, he didn’t have time. He also was supposed to meet you.. But this was the perfect excuse! And not only that; he indirectly admitted he was in love with you! Or that’s what Tate interpreted with his delusional point of view.

Peter didn’t feel anything romantic for you, he was just worried Tate might be too unhinged to be your partner.

Thus, he went to his room and grabbed his backpack. Then, went to the garden shed and picked up the ax that belonged to his father, and a bottle of lye.

He had to get the job done quickly, nevertheless, he lost track of time.

18:30

Tate came back to the living room, just to notice that Peter wasn’t there anymore.

“FUCK IT!” Langdon got nervous. What if he escaped? What if he told you that Tate was crazy? He couldn’t allow this, not at all.

Thankfully, or maybe not, Tate found Peter crawling towards the front door, the poor dude still feeling dizzy after being choked.

Tate didn’t have any mercy.

“Where do you think you’re going, lil’ piece of shit!?”

18:38

Tate finally did it. He brutally murdered Peter, smashing his head several times with the ax.

He got rid of that little issue. He took him to somewhere clean.

Once he assured the other man wasn’t breathing, he dropped the weapon on the floor, making a loud metallic thud.

19:10

Tate was pinning you down on the couch, the same couch where your dead friend was sitting just an hour ago.

His hands were traveling all along your body, tracing sweet patterns on your skin.

Eventually, his fingers were clumsily pulling down your panties, not minding to take off your skirt. “Did you bring this for easy access, baby?” Tate chuckled and buried his face between your legs, holding your thighs in place; his lips plastered messy kisses over the warm flesh, biting it and leaving tiny marks after sucking.

Your reaction was alluring to him; he enjoyed listening to your pleas, to your whimpers. If it was for him, he would spend the entire day making you cum over and over again.

He finally got rid of your underwear, tossing it aside. Without further ado, the boy spread your folds with his large digits, and continued to lick your throbbing wet cunt.

“So fucking pretty… So wet for me, huh?”

His tongue lapped your small clit two or three times, then, traced a zigzag and circles on the sensitive nub. While he devoured you, he inserted his middle and ring finger, pumping them in and out of your cute hole, curling them and hitting the right spot to make you feel butterflies.

Tate could feel his arousal growing; his erection being restrained by the tight fabric of his jeans. He was desperate, yeah. But he always put you in the first place, and that included pleasuring you before him.

After a while, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, fucking your pussy with the agile muscle and now rubbing your clit with his thumb, applying pressure that sent electric waves through your body. He stopped using his tongue on you and instead looked at that stunning face of yours. He was delighted with your flushed cheeks, with every single gesture you did, with the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He wanted to take a picture of you to remember this moment forever.

His thumb increased the pace, while his free hand lifted up your blouse and tried to undo your bra. He couldn’t. You giggled when he groaned in frustration; he was too horny to think straight and that’s why you helped him to take off the garment.

Tate sighed and after that awkward and funny moment, he kept rubbing your bud, using your own juices and his saliva as a lubricant, intensifying the sensation. His left pinched and pulled your nipple, making you gasp and twitch beneath him, whilst his mouth abused your other one, greedily sucking on it.

“Tate, ‘m gonna cum! I-”

Tate cut you off by kissing you harshly; his tongue invading your warm mouth, exploring it and then nibbling your bottom lip until it bleeded. He licked the tiny drops of blood, savoring the metallic taste of it.

Unable to hold on any longer, you reached your orgasm, coming undone while Tate kept caressing your pussy, decreasing the velocity while you finally calmed down.

He left you panting; your heart beating so fast just like his.

You tried to sit up on the couch, breathing deep for more air, but the blond prevented you from going away.

“Where do you think you’re doing? We’re not done yet, you’re gonna cum again!”

Tate carried you bridal style and went upstairs straight to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed.

Without stopping looking at you, he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans along the boxers; his dick already erect and throbbing, the veins thick and the tip leaking precum.

Using the clear liquid as lube, he stroked his shaft for a while, jerking off to the sight of you. He groaned and whimpered, closing his eyes as his hand pumped himself.

One of your hands went to your breasts, massaging them softly as your right went down between your legs, slowly teasing your womanhood and coating your index finger with your arousal, using it to rub your aching bundle of nerves.

Tate’s dark room was now filled with both of your moans; Tate calling your name several times and you begging him to fuck you.

He couldn’t stand this anymore. He NEEDED to be inside you, to feel your warmth enveloping him. “On all fours. Now.” You immediately obeyed, feeling as eager as him.

“Look at me, mhm?” He positioned behind you and rubbed the tip against your wet folds, teasing you for a bit. Afterwards, he slowly entered his cock inside your slit, moving it slowly at first. His thumb went to your clitoris, toying with it just like minutes before. He picked up the pace and fucked you fast and hard; his cockhead brushing your cervix. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Tate pulled your head towards him, still with the deep thrusting.  “Fuck, Y/N! You’re so pretty… So fucking precious, so fucking mine!” Moaned against your ear, voice raspy and agitated.

Panting, you stopped looking at him and instead looked to the bed. Why? Who knows, but you did it. And you saw Tate’s dirty clothes. Dirty with blood. A lot of blood.

You froze. Maybe it was red paint? 

“U-uh, Tate?” You muttered, feeling already bewildered by the sight. You tried not to jump into conclusions, although you knew Tate and he has always been… Secretive.. And aggressive, of course. 

After your boyfriend heard your shaky whisper, he stopped moving, even if he wanted to keep going. “Hm?”

“What’s this?” Tate sighed and pulled out from you, not understanding what you meant. 

“What’s what?”

Without saying anything else to him, you grabbed the shirt and touched the weird stain. It was still fresh. You took your fingers to your mouth to taste it; and the metallic tang was too obvious. “Tate, what the fuck is this!?”

You threw it at him. Freaked out, you stood up and picked up your clothes, putting them on again, all meanwhile Tate connected the dots and realized he was probably going to get caught.

“Wait, Y/N! It’s not what it looks like, I swear, damn it!” He yelled and grabbed your arm, not wanting you to leave like this. He had to save his reputation, he couldn’t let you think bad of him even if you had all the right. Because, why the fuck the fabric was soaked in blood?

“Then what is it, Tate? WHY DOES IT HAVE SO MUCH BLOOD!?”

“CALM DOWN, PLEASE!” 

You attempted to get away from his grip, struggling with him until, somehow, you managed to do so. However, you tripped with his dirty shoes and fell, realizing they were also stained with the red liquid. “Tate, what…? Why? What is this?”

“Nothing, I swear!” He didn’t have any excuses. Saying it was paint would’ve been lame. You were too smart and he knew lying wasn’t a good choice.

Feeling overwhelmed with the matter, you went downstairs, walking as fast as you could. Passing through the living room, a very familiar bag caught your eye. It was definitely Peter’s. You decided to grab it and realized it had his phone inside. Something was off.

Tate was standing behind you; fists clenched and heart beating like crazy. He tried to approach you, still thinking about what to do or what to say. 

“Tate… What is this doing here? Peter’s here?” 

“Huh? Yeah… He— He came earlier and had to go soon, he left this accidentally, yup…” You could see him fidgeting with that ring on his finger, again. 

“Bullshit!”

Tate scowled and grabbed your chin, making you look at his dark orbs. “Tell me, Y/N, do you trust me or not, huh? Look me in the eyes and say you don’t!”

The struggle continued for what seemed eternity. You trying to run away from the house and he trying to make you stay. “Please, Y/N, just listen to me!”

“You did something to him, right? I know him, Tate! He would NEVER leave his phone like this! Is this a joke?”

“Why do you care so much about that asshole!? What has he done for you!? Tell me!”

“Oh my, you’re jealous! I knew it! All that crap about being his friend was a lie, right? Tate, you’re being delusional! I can have friends, I can hang out with whoever I want, whether you like it or not!” 

Tate pressed your cheeks between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, squeezing the flesh with his veiny, big hand, pressing it tightly enough to leave the mark of his long digits on it.

“You can’t! You’re mine. Only mine. Since the day you were born you were meant to be mine. Not his, not anybody, just me.”

“Tate… We should end this…” You thought this was the best for both. Being in a relationship with him was draining; always being careful to not hurt him, make him jealous or mad. He was such a sensitive boy that always took everything too personally. He felt everything a little too much.

Since the beginning you knew he was unstable and that he had many issues, but you tried to see beyond his sick mind, you tried to understand him despite being so different.

Tate felt so safe with you. You were the only person who understood him, or at least made attempts to. 

He felt rejected by the entire society, even by his own mother, until he met you and he had a minimum spark of hope that the world didn’t suck that much.

That’s why he clung to you. That’s why you were his everything. He would lose his mind if you leave him.

He felt like dying when he heard you wanted to finish the relationship.

He couldn’t breathe. 

Some tears were now falling to the floor, his eyes puffy and an ugly frown on his face. His mouth twisted as he sobbed loudly, tugging the hem of your shirt while he begged you to stay. He was crying like a newborn, like a baby who had to be apart from his mother for a second.

“No no no no, you can’t do this to me!” He whimpered, his speech cracking as he tried to hold you close whilst you were stepping back. You were slipping through his fingers, you were leaving him.

“Tate, if something happened to Peter, I will never forgive you! Can’t you see you’re hurting me?”

Tate swore he would never hurt you, nor let anyone. But here he was, finally snapping out of it and seeing the cruel truth. 

“You’ve been hurting me the whole time, Tate! I tried to understand you, I really did, I tried to help you, to save you from yourself! But it’s impossible. I’m losing myself here with you, I don’t even know who I am anymore! You don’t want help, do you? ‘Cause it doesn’t matter what I do, you’re never satisfied! You suffocate me!”

All those words were like daggers penetrating his skin, touching his nerves and making him die of pain. You were tearing him apart, just the way he was destroying you.

He finally let go of you, feeling a tornado of emotions. Tate felt depressed, mad, resentful, like he was going crazy. Though, he knew he had to leave if that’s what you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to break another promise.

Thereby, he confessed his crimes to you. He explained he killed his mom’s partner a few days ago, and that now he had killed your friend. Why? He was jealous, he was scared you’d left him. You did it before you discovered the cruel reality, anyways. That’s why he told you. Because he couldn’t lose anything else.

The situation was utterly disgusting. Tate was sick. He murdered an innocent man and then proceeded to fuck you, as it was the maximum test of love, as if his life meant nothing.

You knew he wasn’t what people often considered “normal”. But this was definitely more than just being a “weirdo”. Tate needed psychiatric help… And being arrested, of course.

“You make me wanna puke, Tate! You’re the evil!”

Without hesitating, you left Tate behind, running as fast as you could from that living hell.

You just wanted to cry, curl up into a ball and wake up from this nightmare. You wished it was merely a bad dream.

Tomorrow morning, you’d go to the police, but for now you needed to sleep.

Monday morning, 11:05

You couldn’t sleep all night. You spent hours thinking about everything, about how this looked like a cruel joke to you. Eventually, you fell asleep at 4AM, and didn’t wake up at what seemed almost midday. 

An intense sound of police sirens woke you from your slumber. Startled by the loud noise, you rubbed your eyes and went to the window, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Police cars and SWAT vans were going in a specific direction… Towards Tate’s street. It couldn’t be, right?

Did his mother find the corpse? Or perhaps something else?

You looked at the clock, realizing it was late and you had to go to class. 

08:00

After the most painful night of his life, Tate decided today everything would be over.

He had to cleanse the world… To take people to somewhere else, to some place full of peace away from the piss and the vomit that runs down the streets.

He was doing this not only because of your breakup, but also because of many other reasons. Your split up was the straw that broke the camel and drove him to the edge.

10:40

 After shooting the school, Tate left the place, looking unfazed about what he just did. He was unhinged. 

He peacefully got into his place, went to his room and stayed there for some minutes. 

The blond sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the gun right next to him and stared at nothing. His gaze was empty, but also there were some tears threatening to spill.

His mind was a whirlwind. Some part of him was satisfied, but the other was confused, wondering what was he thinking, what had he done?

What would you think of him now? Were you even there? Did he kill you too and he didn’t even notice?

In the end, he recognized he indeed was the evil you said. Damn it. You were right, again, as ever.

Tate wanted to hear your voice, to comfort him, to hear you saying everything was okay. That he’d be okay. He desired to hear “I love you” from you once more.

11:15

You went downstairs to find your family apparently mourning you.

They thought you were at school when the shooting happened. They believed you were gone, but here you were. 

Eventually, they explained to you what happened.

The first thing that popped into your mind was Tate’s wellbeing, still unaware that he was the culprit. You were afraid something terrible could’ve happened to him, you were regretting your last words to him, but you also had to get him prisoner.

Your heart dropped when they explained to you he was the shooter.

No, it couldn’t be possible. 

It was possible. After all, he had already killed two men.

Even if you despise what he did, some part of you still longed for him, still was in love with his once kind heart.

A terrifying feeling of dread filled your body, making you feel numb, as if none of this was real… 

11:25

After running to Tate’s house and seeing it surrounded by the cops and the SWAT team, everything stopped. Constance’s distressed cries and pleas were heard from outside, followed suit by the sound of bullets. It was over now.

Tate was certainly a troubled individual who dedicated his entire life to searching for something, to feel something, to feel loved.

All he asked for was love, to be loved, to love. All he wanted was you.

But at the same time, your love led him to an never-ending obsession that ultimately broke both of you.

He became your biggest regret.

All he feared, all his nightmares came true. Everything he was so afraid of was him and only himself. 

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[astaroth1357]

We Need To Talk About Nightbringer (the Person, Not the Game)

I'm still scratching my head over what Nightbringer's goal is here... How is MC involved? Why send them back in time? And, of course, who are they??

SPOILERS Up to Lesson 12 Below Cut

The Fuck is the Goal Here??

Sending the MC back just to form pacts makes no goddamn sense. If the MC acquiring pacts was the real aim, then that mission was already accomplished in the present-day. There's something more here.

Why send MC back to RIGHT NOW? What about making pacts AT THIS TIME is desirable to Nightbringer? Is the end game even having the pacts at all...?

I posit that Nightbringer wants war, specifically, another war between angels and demons. The imagery of scales brings to mind the fragile balance of peace that Diavolo was mentioning between the realms before. RAD isn't built yet, his goal to improve relations is still in its infancy, and the times are so tumultuous that MC risks an all out fight starting just being there. So if Nightbringer wants to make things come to blows, then this is the PERFECT time to send them to.

However...

What is this "path to happiness" all about? What does Nightbringer think will make the MC most happy...? And what about THEIR happiness is linked to his? Is he assuming that in a war of the three realms, MC would side with the demons and thus if demons win then MC will be glad? That doesn't really track with the MC as presented in game... They're generally shown as a peacemaker or bridge builder. I don't think a war would make them happy at all!

Ultimately, I don't think we can answer this question in any way that makes sense until we have a better idea of WHO Nightbringer is so....

Who is Nightbringer??

It's Barbs

This goes for any version of Barbs: past, present, future, or even an alternate self I guess. This only makes sense because we're dealing with a demon who does time travel and there's only one demon we know who fits this bill but... why?

I can't imagine any reason why Barbatos would betray Diavolo, at least the one we know. This guy is so loyal to his lord that he's the ONLY character who won't completely kowtow to MC's whims even in the OG game. His true loyalty was always to Diavolo. Not the realm, not demons, DIAVOLO. And if Diavolo seeks peace, then why on earth would Barbs want to cause a war?? Is he more bitter about things than we thought...?

If it's a different version of Barbs, then I guess this goes out the window, but even then what's an alternate Barbs care about this world specifically? What would he hope to gain? MC? Why?? The means are all here, but I just can't figure out the motive, so...

It's Not Barbs, but Connected to Barbs

You know. I've been thinking a lot about this and I've been considering how, thematically, it could be appropriate for Diavolo not to be the only one with a progenitor/parental figure out of commission. We can assume that Daddy Devil must of had an attendant like Barbatos to aid him like Dia has Barbs so...

What if Nightbringer is the old King's previous attendant? And what's more, what if they aren't Barbs but related to Barbs? Like a sibling or parent? It's important to note that Barbs' time capabilities are not INTERNAL to him. It's his room of doorways to other timelines. Presumably, anybody with sufficient knowledge could inherit that room and just take over the role of the Devildom's time lord.

I know it goes against all of our previous notions to think that Barbatos was, at some point, just an everyday demon and not some primordial, OG force of nature but none of that was canon anyway. Something to think about.

It's Michael

I know people keep offering up this one, but I'm really not buying it... Yeah, Michael has always been this looming, shady figure over the OM universe and he's canonically and non-canonically done some eyebrow raising shit, but what's the motive here? Plus, Nightbringer's thematic ties to, well, night really feel more demon than angel... The Celestial Realm is always sunny, the Devildom is always dark. I think it's just a stretch...

Michael wanting another war could be interesting, especially since we've seen far more of angels being actively antagonistic to demons than the other way around, but I don't think that makes him Nightbringer. At most, he could end up being a shadow ally in his plot to bring everything to a head once again.

It's Solomon

In truth, even I don't think Nightbringer is the Solomon we're talking to. But I still think it's suspicious that all of this plays out so perfectly for our present-day Solo-pal... Personally, I take anything this guy tells us directly with a grain of salt since we know he'll lie openly, so here are the facts we're working with:

We are interacting with our present day Solomon (or at least one with knowledge of who we are and our timeline's events).

Solomon is the only one in this current space who knows of our full history in the OG timeline.

This Solomon put himself not only in the position of being the ONLY ONE who knows us that we can interact with, but happily isolated us from the brothers and made himself our main point of contact.

And last (and perhaps most importantly) HE'S STILL TRYING TO MAKE PACTS. He approaches Lucifer about it and successfully makes a pact with Asmo centuries before he's supposed to! If my guy is really from the present, that's like, Changing the Course of History 101! What the hell???

Let me present to you a theory. He is not present-day Solomon, sent back to help MC. He is past-Solomon, caught up to MC's identity through Barbs' time powers and just playing the part of our modern-day buddy. If he's from the past, he doesn't have to worry about changing the present timeline like we do because that ain't even him we've been speaking to. It feels like he has this bet going with Nightbringer... they have some kind of wager and MC is key to it. They're the one who'll tip the scales and Solomon is trying to get us to stay on his side.

It's Not Solomon, but Connected to Solomon

There's something off about Solomon that everybody, LITERALLY everybody, makes comments on: how he doesn't seem human anymore.

The OM timeline introduced the idea that a person can become something else, no matter what they started out as. The brothers were angels, but they fell, so they became demons. Simeon violated angel rules, so he was made into a human. The idea of corruption related to Solomon has always stuck in the back of my mind... The guy has over 70 pacts, he's lived for several centuries at least, and there's just something NOT RIGHT about him...

When Solomon and Nightbringer are speaking to each other, this line stuck out to me.

I find this comment so damn weird. If Nightbringer is a demon and has always been a demon, why would Solomon feel the need to lampshade this? He's pointing it out as if it's meant to get under Nightbringer's skin... Why state the obvious?

What if Nightbringer wasn’t always a demon?

Nightbringer refers to and brings up his demonness as much as Solomon brings up his humanness. That, to me, reeks of insecurity. They may not just be fighting on the lines between demons and humanity, but fighting each other/themselves to prove who's side they're actually on.

What if Nightbringer is a fully-corrupted Solomon? Either a Solomon in the future who's fucking around with the past or a Solomon in this timeline/dimension that's trying to use MC to cause destruction for his world??

..... Okay, I do know this is a bit of a reach. As much as I would love to blame the sorcerer, Nightbringer still seems like a being who's just... been around a while. Far too long to start fucking up shit now. It's possible that if he is from the future and just hopping through time, there's nothing stopping him from going back however far he wants to, but then you could get into the "You are your own grandfather" paradox and the next thing you know we're in another installment of Kingdom Hearts where time is our worst enemy.

HOWEVER, the idea of corruption DOES bring me to my wildest theory yet.

What if Nightbringer wants MC to become a demon...?

Think about it.

It could explain why Solomon is trying so hard to make MC remember and side with their humanity.

It could explain why Nightbringer sent them there under the guise of demon to start with.

It could be why he wants them to make their pacts again. He's trying to seduce them into fully embracing the demonic world through their connection with the brothers.

Humans die, right? Why not be a demon and not have to worry about it?

Throw away the Ring of Light.

Stay by your demons' sides.

Embrace the darkness.

Join the damned.

And when that big'ol battle that he wants happens, he'll have the most powerful sorcerer/sorceress, fully demonized, fighting for his side against God himself.

..... Or that's my spec script anyway. Probably too out there, but man would it be fun...

#my money is on option two #but option five would be WILD #or you know #my trust issues are acting up again #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbringer theories #omn spoilers #omnb spoilers #obey me solomon #omn solomon #obey me barbatos #omn barbatos #obey me michael

[pensat-i-fet]

Can't sleep? (Rúben Dias x Reader) / Halloween '23

Masterlist

Wattpad

“Why do you have to play on Halloween? It’s so rude”.

You could hear Rúben laughing on the other side of the line. “Well, it’s not as if it’s a holiday like Christmas so…”.

“But I wanted to spend the night with you watching movies and giving sweets to the kids”.

“No one will go to our apartment to ask for sweets”.

“And so I’ll have to eat them all by myself. Alone. Can’t you fake an injury?”

“I’ll be back around midnight. That’s spooky. We can fall asleep watching a horror movie and I’ll protect you when you have nightmares”.

“I don’t get nightmares from watching movies”, you snorted.

“What about that time…”.

“Good luck at the match, Rúben. See you later!”

His laugh was still audible before you hung up the phone. But you were honest. Horror movies didn’t really scare you. That’s why you had planned on watching terrifying ones this year. Or what the YouTube video you watched called “the most disturbing movies ever made”. But honestly, how bad could they actually be?

You really got everything ready for the night. The cosy blankets, the blackish green popcorn from Aldi that was supposed to look spooky and hopefully tasted like normal popcorn, the sweets, …and the movies. The first one was a French one called Martyrs. You always loved the way the French language sounded so surely that would make the movie less disturbing. And you could just look at the subtitles if things got too much. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Not long after the movie started, you realised what a big mistake you had made. But being stubborn could be good sometimes…however, it often was a bit of a curse. You decided to watch that movie and you were going to watch the whole movie. Even if it scarred you for life. You were not going to quit.

The thing was that you were so shocked by everything going on in the movie, that when Rúben came back, you almost had a heart attack hearing the door open and close.

“Aahhhhhh!!”

“What’s going on?”, he asked, running to the living room to see if you were ok. “What happened?”

“You scared me”, you said. And then Rúben realised you were shaking and looked at the screen.

“What on earth are you watching?”

He took the remote from your hand and exited the movie. Then turned to look at you.

“Are you actually ok?”

“Yeah, just traumatised for life. But I wanted to see a really scary movie”.

“Without me?”, you nodded. “You don’t need to prove you’re brave. Let’s go to bed. I’ll hold you tight for when you inevitably have nightmares”.

“Can we watch a movie together?”

“A comedy?”

“No, a scary movie. But not as scary as this one”.

“We can watch Scary Movie”.

You rolled your eyes and followed him to the bedroom. Rúben turned the living room’s light off, as he always did, and you ran to the bedroom. Being in the dark at that moment didn’t sound appealing at all.

“I mean, we could watch I know what you did last summer or something cheesy like that”, he offered.

“Sounds good. Let’s get ready for bed”.

Rúben’s movie choice was perfect. A cheesy slasher that wasn’t scary at all and you knew so well, that not even the jumpscares scared you anymore. But then…you heard a noise.

“What is that?”

“Oh, it’s super windy outside. Don’t worry about it”.

“Right…”.

“It was a crazy landing. For once, I wish we had travelled by bus”.

You chuckled at that and continued watching the movie…until there was another noise.

“You sure it’s just the wind?”

“Yes”, he said, looking down at you with a soft expression. “And if it’s a monster, I’ll kill it before it gets to you”.

You shook your head, moving even closer to Rúben. And eventually fell asleep. When he noticed, he moved your body gently so you would be more comfortable and turned off the TV. Time for him to sleep too.

But the wind was making so much noise. It kind of sounded like someone was trying to open the windows. “It’s just the wind, Rúben”, he told himself and closed his eyes again…and then another noise. That was a door slamming shut. But was it at their apartment or somewhere else? Maybe someone left a balcony door open and the wind closed it? Or someone was opening a balcony door to get inside an apartment.

Looking down at you, he saw you were sleeping peacefully. How could you when he saw just a small part of the movie you were watching and almost threw up? Maybe you were the bravest one out of the two after all.

He had to leave the room and see everything was properly closed…and that there was no one inside the apartment. How ridiculous. He was a grown man, scared after watching half of a horror movie.

“Rúben?”

“Ahhhh!”, it was now his turn to scream.

“Oh my God, honey. I didn’t want to scare you. What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep because of the wind and I was checking everything was ok around the place”.

“Is it?”, you asked, biting your lip because he was too funny.

“I think so”.

“Ok, let’s go back to bed then. I’ll protect you from the monsters”.

#ruben dias #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias one shot #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x you #ruben dias x yn #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #footballer fluff #footballer x reader #footballer imagines

[jedijesi]

Caught in the Cats Web Chapter 13

Miguel O'Hara x Felicia Hardy! Reader

Previous Chapter 🕸️ Series Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff, Injuries

Word Count: 3.8K

Chapter Summary: Felicia and Miguel hide from assassins on her Earth and embrace a day of normalcy.

Co-Author: @stclairesplace

A/N: All art goes to the original artist! Enjoy some calm before the storm.

New York Earth-194

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room as Miguel and Felicia began to stir from their slumber. As they gradually awakened, their eyes met, and a gentle smile passed between them. The soft sheets clung to their bodies, offering a comforting embrace that made it difficult to leave the cozy haven of their bed.

Stretching lazily, Miguel’s hand gently caresses her cheek. He gently pulls her in to exchange a tender kiss, their lips moving in perfect synchrony. 

“Buenos dias, sleepyhead,” Miguel whispered against her lips.

“Good morning, my handsome spider.” Felicia smiles, pulling back to hide her face in the warmth of his chest. 

Feeling Miguel slightly shift to get up, Felicia used whatever strength she had in the early morning to stiffen her hand on his torso, keeping him from moving. Miguel let out a long exasperated sigh and smirked at her antics of trying to keep him close to her.

Miguel untucks his arm from underneath, now wrapping it around her shoulder so he can stroke her arms which lay haphazardly across his torso.

“Are you comfortable, Hermosa?” He asks, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Mmhmm very,” her voice was sleepy. A small smile plays on his lips as he admires the serenity that washes over her face. "I can feel you staring at me," Felicia whispers, her eyes still closed. Sensing her desire, Miguel reaches out and gently takes her hand in his, guiding it to his face. Her fingertips graze his cheek, and she can sense the contours of his features even with her eyes shut.

Savoring the intimate moment, Felicia brings her thumb up to his face, stroking his cheek, tracing the lines and curves that define his face. Slowly, Miguel guides her hand to his mouth, his lips tenderly brushing against each delicate curve and outline that adorns her hand and wrist. 

“My big teddy bear,” she says with a grin, looking into his sparkling eyes. 

Miguel gently pulled her arm to wrap around his neck, careful of her injured torso that followed suit. He then takes his hand to reach under her neck tilting her head up to meet his lips in a deep compassionate kiss. They break apart only for a second before Miguel mutters on her lips, “And you’re the only one who’s ever gonna see me like this.” 

Felicia tucks herself into his chest, pulling the sheets up to cover half of her face. 

“Mmm fine by me. I like this part of you.” Her voice muffled between his pecs. 

“I can’t remember the last time I felt so-“ 

Felicia lifts her head from his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.

“So what?”

“So peaceful.” 

Her expression then shifts to concern, “Miguel-”

“Felicia.”

“When was the last time you had a break?” 

Miguel blinked, eyes darting around the ceiling trying to think of the last time he did have a break, or a day off for that matter. “When was the last time we had a date?”

Felicia frowns, “You still worked that day.” Miguel’s mind searches his memory for a minute, trying to pinpoint another day. “Exactly what I thought. I’m asking LYLA.”

“No do not- why are you calling-”

“Shush” Felicia places a finger on his lips, reaching around to press the button on her watch that rests on the nightstand. 

Suddenly, LYLA’s form appears in the bedroom. “You are decent right?!” she quickly covers her eyes with her hands in fear. 

Felicia rolls her eyes at the AI, “Yes! We are decent otherwise we wouldn't call you.”

“Oh, well ok!” She uncovers her eyes, immediately returning to her bright bubbly spirit. “What do ya need?” she happily beams. 

“LYLA has Miguel ever had a day off or any kind of break from working?”

“HA ya right! No, I’ve never been around to see it. Jess has been harboring him for a long time to take a break from working. But he always comes back to work! And then- and I mean- I mean he always comes back to work with that grumpy I’m gonna kill someone today look on his face it scares a lot of people-”

“Thank you LYLA, as always,” Miguel grumbles out. 

“LYLA please silence all notifications for Miguel unless it’s an emergency,” Felicia smirks, gazing into Miguel’s annoyed eyes.

“My pleasure boss!” She fades off with a wink.

Miguel sits upright, “Boss?! Since when did you become a boss to the AI I created?”

“Well… I am the most talented Spider-person the Spider Society has… plus I’m dating the boss.” She moves to sit up, feeling the sting of her healing wound. Slowly, she repositions herself so she now straddles his waist. “Listen, we need to keep you safe, and I need to heal. I don’t care how long it takes, but that means you are taking a break!” She huffs out. 

Miguel sighs a short “fine”, causing Felicia to let out a small cheer and clap her hands enthusiastically. 

“What do you want to do, handsome? Anything you want!” 

He rubs her legs in thought and says in a low voice, “There are a few things that I’ve been thinking of doing.” He leans forward, his lips hovering over hers, with a giant smirk plastered on his face.

“Not that.” She lightly pecks him on the lips then brings her hand up to stroke his messy hair. 

“You feeling up for a walk?” Miguel inquires, massaging her hips. 

Felicia tilts her head, mentally assessing her wound. “A slow one, maybe. Why?”

“How do you feel about showing me around a bit?”

She arches his brow at her idea, “Show you New York? It’s New York, haven't you seen like a thousand?” 

“Eh.” He shrugs. “I’ve fought in countless New Yorks, but I’ve never… experienced it.”

“Ok then, I’ll show you around.” She says with a soft smile.

“Now can I have my kiss, Hermosa?”

Felicia chuckles and nods, “Yes you may,” placing her lips onto his. He reciprocates hungrily, running a hand up her thigh, and gently squeezing her bottom. After a few moments, they reluctantly untangled themselves from the sheets, their bodies intertwined until the very last moment. 

Miguel helped Felicia stand from the bed before they made their way to the kitchen, hand in hand. “What do you wanna eat this morning, eggs?” Felicia asked as she looked around the fridge, grabbing some cheese and butter, as well as some fresh fruit. 

“Aye! Mí vida!” Miguel scolds, ushering the woman away from the fridge and to the stool on the island. “You are not allowed to cook! Rest.” He says, placing a kiss on her forehead before returning to the refrigerator. 

Felicia's eyes followed Miguel affectionately as he gathered ingredients and set up a fresh pot of coffee. The care and attention he put into each step resonated with her, a stark contrast to the hustle of her life. The last time someone took care of her like this was when her father was alive, more than fifteen years ago. Her body filled with the warmth of nostalgia, remembering the way her father would make her just about anything she wanted for breakfast.

As the eggs sizzled in the pan, the aroma of coffee filled the air, creating a comforting atmosphere in the kitchen. The two of them engaged in playful banter, their laughter intertwining to form a delightful symphony that momentarily drowned out the chaotic noise of the world outside. In those precious moments, the simple act of sharing a meal became a sanctuary, a refuge from the complexities of their superhero lives.

With breakfast now ready, Miguel gracefully carried their plates to the sunlit dining table. Gently, he lifted Felicia, placing her in her seat. Taking his place across from her, their eyes met. They embraced the rare moment, enjoying the peace and normalcy. The sun streaming through the window painted a gentle glow on the scene, making their shared breakfast feel like a timeless moment suspended amid their bustling lives.

“When’s the last time you cut your hair?” Felicia asked, her lips curling in a smile as she a forkfull of eggs into her mouth. 

Miguel stared at his plate, taking a moment to process the question. “Not sure. Why do you ask?” 

“Can I cut it for you sometime?” 

“...Sure? Do you not like my hair or something?” 

Felicia abruptly dropped her fork onto her empty plate and leaned forward, “Are you kidding I love your hair, it’s one of my favorite things about you! I’m just offering to cut it for you when it gets too long for you, that's all. Gives me a chance to play with your hair.”

“Is that so…” Miguel stared at Felicia with a beaming smile. “What else do you like about me chica linda?” He hums.

“Ohh well let’s seeeee.” She sing-songed to tease him.

Felicia smirked, savoring the last bite of her meal before elegantly rising from her chair. She carried her empty plate to the sink. The clink of plates and the sound of running water sounded as Miguel observed her with a teasing smirk, waiting for her to come up with a witty response.

“I like your butt, it’s very firm.” She nods. “Oh, I like your wide shoulders and your facial features, aaanndd-”

“Aaaannnd what else?” He says, rising from her seat and stalking up behind her, pressing his chest against her back, barricading her against the sink. He lowers his head to place small kisses along her neck.

“Aannndd you’re an incredible leader.” 

He immediately pulls away from her neck, body stiff in shock as he looks down at the top of her head, dumbfounded. “There is nothing else that you like about me?”

Felicia dumbly shakes her head, as if she’s lost for words. She turns around to face him, an innocent smile on her face. As soon as she looks up at his face, she immediately breaks character and starts laughing, covering her mouth as she lets out a snort. Miguel stands in front of her, hands on his hips as his face turns red in frustration.

“Awww poor baby, I’m sorry I am.” Felicia settles down her laughing by wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing herself tightly against him. His stance is unwavering, shoulders stuck in place as he ignores her pleading stares. 

After a moment she smirks against his chest, before reaching a hand down to gently run over the bulge in his boxers. “I’m sorry, baby, I’ll say it, I’ll say it.” She reaches up on her tiptoes, pressing kisses on his cheek and neck, before whispering, against his lips, ‘Baby, I love your giant fucking cock.” 

Miguel’s facade breaks down as he shakes his head and leans in for a kiss. He pulls her into him, pressing his hands on the small of her back as he whispers in her ear a sarcastic “Thanks” 

Felicia finally settles down, removing her arms from around his waist, and begins to exit the kitchen, still maintaining eye contact with Miguel as she leaves. “I’m gonna go take a shower before we leave.” She says with a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

Felicia turned the corner and headed towards the bathroom, where Miguel followed closely behind. He knew she could shower by herself, but that protective side of him couldn’t help but worry. The sound of running water filled the bathroom as she stepped into the shower, her body enveloped by the warm drops of water sliding down her body. 

She wipes the droplets of water from her eyes, and she turns to find a very naked Miguel outside of the shower door. “Mind if I join you?” 

“Oh, please do.” She purrs. 

Miguel stepped into the shower, the warmth of the water cascading down his body as he carefully began to remove the bandages that concealed the aftermath of the attack. The shower echoed with the soft hiss of pain as her stab wound met the warmth of the water.

Felicia, resilient yet vulnerable, couldn't stifle the discomfort, and Miguel couldn't help but whisper a series of apologies, each word heavy with remorse. His eyes reflected a mix of concern and guilt as he navigated the delicate process, his touch gentle yet cautious. 

Underneath the gentle spray, they washed away the remnants of sleep, their hands moving languidly over each other's skin. The water cascaded down their bodies, washing away any lingering tension, leaving only a deep intimacy and connection.

As the steam filled the bathroom, their lips met in a tender kiss, their bodies pressed close together. In the shower's embrace, Miguel and Felicia found solace and passion, the water serving as a conduit for their shared desires. Their movements were slow and deliberate, their bodies moving in perfect harmony, a symphony of lust and pleasure, whispering promises to keep each other safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dressed for the winter weather of New York, Miguel and Felicia strolled hand in hand through the halls of her building until they reached the elegant lobby. The opulent architecture of the lobby captivated Miguel's eyes, and he couldn't help but appreciate the grandeur surrounding them.

"Good morning, Miss Hardy," a uniformed man greeted with a respectful nod.

"Good morning, Tom," Felicia replied, returning the nod.

"Good morning, Miss Hardy," A receptionist, chimed in.

"Good morning, Silvia," Felicia greeted with a friendly smile.

The pattern repeated as they encountered more staff members, surprising Miguel.

"Good morning, Miss Hardy."

"Good morning, Jun."

"Good morning, Miss Hardy."

"Good morning, Zara."

Miguel observed the genuine warmth and respect with which the hotel staff greeted Felicia. It was evident that she held a special place in their hearts, and the atmosphere around her reflected a blend of familiarity and mutual admiration.

“Wow,” Miguel said as they made their way to the large doors. “Do you know everyone that works here?”

“Mmhmm,” She hums with a nod. “I’ve lived here most my life.”

The doormen opened the grand doors, ushering the couple into the bustling chaos of New York City. Miguel's arm instinctively tightened protectively around Felicia as he guided her down the steps to the busy sidewalk. Once they reached the bustling street, Miguel turned to look at Felicia's building.

His eyes widened in recognition. "Holy shit, you live in The Plaza?!"

"Yeah," she replied nonchalantly. "I thought you knew that."

"I was too nervous about our date to study the building," he shrugged. "How many paintings and jewels have you stolen to afford a penthouse in the Plaza?"

Felicia smiled, her gaze shifting upward to the grand architecture of the hotel. "It's my daddy's," she revealed.

Miguel's eyes widened in surprise. Felicia had never mentioned her family before. "Go on," he urged, eager to learn more about her and the world she came from.

Her gaze shifted looking up at the glistening buildings before closing her eyes, allowing the memories to flood back, taking her to a time when life was simpler.

17 Years Ago…

The little white-haired girl sat in the window bed, the soft glow of the adjacent building lights casting a cool ambiance in her room. Moonlight danced on her shimmering hair as she played with the strands, creating a mesmerizing dance of silver.

A distant symphony of sirens echoed through the night, harmonizing with the hum of the city. Each wail was a lullaby, a comforting melody that accompanied her moments of solitude.

Suddenly, a silhouette, as dark as the night itself, swung past her window. The little girl's eyes widened in delight, the anticipation written on her face. In an instant, she abandoned her perch, the cool floor beneath her feet forgotten as she raced down the hall, guided by the echoes of excitement.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed with unbridled joy, as the figure crawled into the window. She threw herself into the waiting arms of her father, giving his neck a big squeeze.

“Felicia, what are you doing up?” Walter Hardy playfully scolded, trying to maintain an air of sternness, but his eyes betrayed the warmth of a father's love. Felicia, however, was undeterred by his attempts at seriousness, focused only on the promise of surprises concealed in the bag he carried.

“What did you bring me?” she persisted, her curiosity and excitement gleaming in her eyes as her small hand reached for the bag.

Walter, her father, continued the charade, his arm playfully evading her grasp. “Ah, ah, ah!” he chided, his tone a mixture of mock severity and amusement. “What makes you think I brought you anything, huh?”

Felicia responded with a mischievous smirk, sensing the playful dance between father and daughter that was about to unfold. "Cause I know you love me," she teased, her words laced with playful confidence.

Walter rolled his eyes as he ran his fingers over the black and white streaks of his hair, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Spoiled, daddy's girl," he said with a chuckle, as he unholstered his weapons. 

Felicia batted her eyes, her legs swinging in anticipation. "So… Do you love me?"

"How could I not?" Walter smiled with the warmth of a father's love as he presented the all-white Coach backpack to the little girl.

Felicia's cheer echoed with delight as she cradled the elegant backpack in her hands. "It's beautiful, thank you, Daddy!" she exclaimed, her joy radiating from her as she leaped into his waiting arms. 

"You better get better grades with that backpack," Walter teased.

Felicia smiled, her affectionate gaze meeting her father's as she pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, the bristles of his salt-and-pepper beard brushing against her lips. "I love you, Daddy," she whispered.

Today…

“You must have been close with your dad,” Miguel says as he ups her back. 

“He was my best friend.” Felicia smiles at the memory as the two stroll down the bustling street. “Granted, I didn’t have any friends growing up.” She shrugs as he leans down, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

The city's vibrant energy surrounded them, as skyscrapers reached towards the heavens and the sounds of honking taxis and chattering pedestrians filled the air. The cool winter breeze swept through the streets, sending a chill through them.

Felicia glanced up at Miguel, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, Mr. Smooth Talker, what’d you wanna do?"

Miguel grinned, playfully squeezing her hand. "Well, my enchanting partner in crime, I thought we just walked? And maybe go somewhere I heard about that I think you have on your Earth.” He looks her up and down with his eyes. “How does that sound?"

"Sounds like the perfect day to me.” Felicia's cheeks were warm, a playful glimmer in her eyes. 

They continued their stroll, the city's rhythm guiding their steps, helping Felicia’s body to acclimate back to normal. They passed street performers, their music filling the air, and colorful vendors selling their creations on the sidewalks. The sights and sounds of New York painted a vibrant backdrop to their conversation. As they turned a corner, a street artist caught Felicia’s attention, creating an intricate mural on a brick wall. She paused, marveling at the artist's skill, her and Miguel’s fingers entwined.

Miguel's gaze lingered on Felicia, his voice filled with admiration. "You like that?”

Felicia still awestruck at the artist’s creation, only nodded her head in reply. Miguel chuckled at her response, before pulling her by the hand to continue down the street. 

“Where are we going?” Felicia stumbled, being dragged by Miguel’s hand through the swarms of people. 

“You’ll see.” he smiles. 

When they approach a corner Miguel quickly spins around to stand directly in front of Felicia, blocking her line sight. 

“Whatcha doin’ Migs?”

“Close your eyes, and don’t open until I tell you.”

“Okayyy,” Felicia reluctantly accepted whatever plan Miguel had conjured up, covering her eyes with both her hands. 

Miguel guided Felicia through the entrance, his hand gently resting on the small of her back. As they stepped inside, a grand atrium unfolded before them, adorned with soaring ceilings and elegant marble columns. The building itself boasted an architectural marvel—an intricate combination of sleek glass panels and steel beams, allowing natural light to cascade into the space and illuminate the artworks within.

Felicia could sense the air of sophistication that permeated the atmosphere. The soft echoes of hushed conversations mingled with the faint melody of classical music playing in the background. The museum was a sanctuary of creativity, a haven for the masterpieces of renowned artists from around the world.

Miguel watched Felicia closely, a smile playing on his lips as he observed her eyes widening behind her closed lids. He knew she had a deep appreciation for art, and he couldn't wait to witness her reaction when they finally reached their destination.

"Okay, open them now," Miguel whispered, his voice filled with anticipation.

Felicia slowly unveiled her eyes, her gaze sweeping across the gallery ahead. She found herself standing in front of a breathtaking painting, its vibrant colors and meticulous brushstrokes capturing her attention. She gasped, her hand instinctively reaching out to touch the invisible emotions that seemed to emanate from the canvas.

"Migs, this... this is incredible," she stammered, her voice betraying her awe. "How did you know I would love this?"

Miguel grinned, his eyes fixed on Felicia's enraptured expression. "I've been paying attention, Felicia. Plus not to mention you used to steal this stuff for a living. But mostly I just wanted to see the look on your face when you see it all in one big place.” 

Felicia steps away from Miguel for a split second, admiring her surroundings and the numerous rooms and hallways that possessed a different treasure. 

He tentatively asked, “Are you happy?”

She quickly whips her head to look at him before saying, “Of course I’m happy, I have the best boyfriend in the world. 

As they continued their journey through the museum, Miguel reveled in each moment, watching Felicia's fascination with the art that adorned the walls. He cherished the way her eyes sparkled, the way her fingers traced the contours of sculptures and the way her laughter resonated within the sacred halls of creativity.

After a few hours, they finished the tour of the museum, before exiting. They resumed their walk, the city providing a backdrop to their playful banter. They shared stories and jokes, even the occasional spider gossip, their voices intertwining like the streets they walked upon.

As they reached Central Park, Miguel pulled Felicia into his arms, spinning her around in a joyful dance. Their laughter echoed through the trees, blending with the sounds of nature.

Miguel looked into Felicia's eyes, a tender smile gracing his lips. “Thank you for today, Hermosa.”

Felicia's eyes sparkled, her voice filled with affection. “You’re welcome Migs, you deserve it.” You make every moment an adventure."

Hand in hand, they continued their exploration of the city, their laughter, and flirty remarks carried on the wind. In that moment, New York City became their playground, a canvas on which their love story unfolded, one flirty remark at a time.

Chapter 14

A/N: I know it's been a week already, but now that Thanksgiving is over we are back to our regularly scheduled fics!

Taglist: @leahnicole1219 @oscarissac2099 @www-interludeshadow-com

#jedi jesi #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x reader #stclairesplace #miguel ohara x female reader #miguel x reader #felicia hardy #miguel o’hara x felicia hardy #miguel o’hara x felicia hardy reader #spider-man x black cat #spider man x reader #miguel o’hara smut #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man x felicia hardy #miguel ohara smut #spider man 2099 #spider-man x reader

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 29

First / Previous / Next

Fen and Zhe went back up to the command deck to watch the approach. Northern placed the view out of some forward cameras on the screen and what struck Fen the first time she saw it was just how ramshackle the station was. It appeared to be made out of more than a dozen old starship hulls.

"Is that.. made out of junk starships?"

"It appears that way Fen, but I'm not sure if they're junk or not. I can see a lot of reactors when I scan for emissions. It could be that they're just all connected together and can break apart when threatened." Northern sounded fascinated. "It's a good idea, really. If you're worried about some administrative forces kicking you out, you just break up your station and link away to somewhere else. Fen, Zhe? This is going to be a while. I was just told we have to wait for a place for us to park. Why don't you two go get some rest. I'll wake you if anything comes up."

Back in her room, Fen lays on the bed. It's large and cold and smells unfamiliar. The sheets are wrong, the light in the room is wrong, the mattress is wrong, the whole place feels wrong. She had been doing well enough until she talked to Zhe about Ma-ren and she feels alone in the bed all over again. Tossing and turning, Fen struggles to sleep. Finally sleep comes.

Fen dreams.

She's sitting on a large, seat, a throne really at the top of what could only be described as an... arena. Every single seat is filled with people who are there to see her. She can feel their excitement radiate off. They aren't coerced, they aren't forced, they are all there willingly.

To see her.

Or are they?

She holds out her hand for silence, only it's not her hand. The skin tone is wrong, lighter. She spreads her arms wide to welcome the crowd, but the length feels wrong. Glancing down quickly, she sees that she's shorter than she expected, even with the high heels. High heels? Fen hates wearing heels; they're so wobbly. Her body isn't quite right either, she feels top heavy. The crowd is so far away, that they haven't noticed anything yet, but the people next to her have. One of them, a women, about her size with a kind face looks over, her brow furrowed in concern. Fen feels an overwhelming desire to comfort her, let her know everything is all right, even though it clearly isn't. "I'm fine." she whispers out of the corner of her mouth. "Just jitters or something."

The other women nods very slightly and turns back to the crowd, not convinced, but unwilling to disturb the ceremony.

"People of the Reach! I come before you to tell you of news. Our battles go well, and we have captured the inner planets! Venus, Luna and the LEO principalities have all agreed to a peace plan." Cheers and shouts of praise. She basks in their love, buoyed by their positivity. "I myself will be departing for the attack on Earth. I will personally lead the charge. Soon, I shall return to you with the exciting news of our victory!" More cheering. "Until then, I ask for your patience and understanding, and I ask for more volunteers. We have three more Super Dreadnoughts that have been completed, and they need crews. Please, come to the recruitment office and sign up. Everyone who crews my ships will be eligible for relocation to any planet, station, starbase, and orbital of their choosing after our victory."

She stands during the cheering and applause at this last announcement, and concentrates. Her wings, made of gossamer, focused, golden light spread meters wide. Her crown, made of the same light flares in the arena, visible to everyone. Through the cheering and chanting of her name, she turns, leaves the dias and her wings and crown fade into an afterimage on everyone's eyes.

Behind the dias, a hidden door opens, and she ducks through, with the two people - including the woman from before - on either side.

"Now that we're out of the crowd, what was that? You looked like you were going to throw up." She sounds worried.

"Yeah, I saw you wobble. You looked down at your shoes and blanched." The other one, a middle aged man chimes in. He is tall and handsome, with dark brown skin and a coal black beard, flecked with gray.

"I'm fine, I'm... fine." She sounds unsure even as she says it. "I just had a strange feeling of being not myself. It's passed now. She turned towards the woman. Do you have the report of the developments on Luna?"

"Yes, Empress. Luna is pacified. Your military has cleared you for a visit to the people as soon as you enter the system. They recommend that you show up, give a speech, do a quick meet-and-greet with the citizens, and then continue on to Earth. Myself, Omar and a small guard will accompany you."

"Thank you Ava. I need a coffee, and then we can depart."

Fen awoke with a start, dripping with sweat. She was laying in bed, all of her sheets and blankets a tangle. There was a soft chime that was repeating in the room. "Yes?"

"We're going to dock in a couple hours Fen. I figured you would want to shower and change."

"Thanks Northern. How long has it been?"

"About nine hours. I let you sleep a full cycle; you seemed like you needed it."

Fen sits up. "Okay Northern. I'll be up in a few."

Fen gets up and pads to the bathroom. Being the captain, she does have a larger suite than average, and it has its own bathroom. As the door behind her shuts, she does not notice the sheets and blankets are covered in a very slight layer of dust, arranged like wings, centering on where she slept.

****

The docking goes without a hitch. They are brought inside the cargo module of a massive starship on the outer edge of the 'station' and are directed to a pad near the door. They land, and as the ship powers down, Northern walks into the command deck, shaking her hair with her hands and making a face. "My mouth tastes like pennies. I hate this." She puts her hands on her hips and faces Fen. "You're going to find us enough crew - or another AI - to do this, right?"

"Yes Northern. We'll find a crew. I can't thank you enough for this, I realize that its... distasteful for you."

Northern smirks. "I see what you did there. I'll have you know that puns always work on me." She nods at Zhe. "Come on. Shall we go meet your family?"

Zhe nods and stands, but her ears are flat, and she's trying to shrink down into her clothes. "O-okay Northern, Fen. Let's go."

"Hold up a moment." Fen turns to Zhe. "Are you going to be all right with this?"

Zhe stands just a little straighter. "Yes, I'll be all right Fen. You're my captain now. It's just that my family was... disappointed when I got the job with the Discoverers and went to Minaren."

"They're disappointed you went straight?" Northern's incredulity is plain on her face.

Zhe's tail swishes and she nods. "You'll see when you meet them."

The dock's air is cold and thin, but breathable. The three of them exit the ship and head towards the airlock at the other end. They walk past scores of K'laxi and other peoples tending the ships that are docked. There are easily more than a dozen in this dock alone. Fen recognizes K'laxi, Gren, and even some Sefigan designs. They step into the airlock and it closes behind them. "So, you three are the ones ballsy enough to come here in a Imperial Frigate and sing the bawdiest K'laxi drinking song known in order to get in?" The voice is low and gruff. "We've scanned your ship, it's empty, so we know you're not hiding anyone, and you don't walk like spies, though you have the air of a Discoverer about you, K'laxi." The voice pauses a moment. "Still, we'll let you in. Stay nice and don't cause trouble."

The other airlock door opens, and the air is hot and wet. The K'laxi homeworld is smaller and colder than Earth, so Fen expected the atmosphere settings to be similar here but if there was such a thing as an opposite to K'laxi weather, this was it. The lights were dark and yellow and the gravity was light. Fen kept feeling like she was about to trip. A short K'laxi, grey around the muzzle, with a human sized battle rifle on his back waves and bounds - literally bounds - over. "Welcome! Welcome to The Heap."

Northern grins. "The Heap because it's a heap of starships?"

He nods quickly, the earrings on his large ears jangling slowly in the low gravity. "Exactly so. What are you here for? Trade? Business? Or just to lie low from the Imps since you clearly stole their frigate?"

Fen crosses her arms and harrumphs. "I'll have you know I own that frigate free and clear. You can scan it anywhere and it'll show up under my name."

He winks - a decidedly human gesture. "Sure it does, Friend. I know hackers too. So? What's up?"

Zhe sighs. "Hi there Uncle Rev. Is Hemmi here?"

Rev leans around Northern and gasps. "Little Zhe! You came back! You finally realized that the government yolk was strangling your ability to pull for yourself!" He grabbed her and hugged her mightily and spun her around. "Hemmi isn't here now, but he's in-system. I'll get a beacon out to him right away. He'll want to know the news. Why didn't you tell us you were aboard? He would have stayed for the welcome."

"I didn't want to be a burden..." Zhe begins.

"Nonsense! I will not hear of it." Rev looks over at Northern and Fen. "Shacking up with two humans? My my! You're doing all right for yourself. I knew you couldn't keep your true self down."

"Uncle Rev!" Zhe's fur ripples as she blushes. "Northern and Fen are friends only. Fen is my captain."

"Well then I need to extend our thanks," Rev bends low and Fen sees that his tail is half gone. "Have you had a chance to witness Zhe in combat yet? She is unparalleled with a Gren soar-kinfe." He puts his arm around Northern and Fen and gives them a small squeeze and Northern glares. "Did you know she once took out three Sefigan warriors who thought they could bounce out of here without paying? Three! She was barely sixteen at the time. Her parents were so proud. They let her keep the entire bounty. I think that's how she paid her passage to Minaren."

Northern turns her head slowly to Zhe as her fur won't stop rippling. "A soar-knife? They're hard to use even in light gravity. in Human standard they take years of practice to wield safely."

"Well when you're a kid on a pirate station you get bored and pick stuff up." Zhe mumbles.

"So modest!" Rev squeezes their hips again and Northern smacks his arm off. "Come on! Let's go eat while we wait for Hemmi to come back.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are space oddities #humans and aliens #jpitha #writing #humans and ai #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians #Between the black and gray

[oh-saints]

Alphabet nfsw Rúben dias

you ask nicely and therefore you shall receive, dearest <3

please dni if you're not 18 yet! i really wouldn't if i were you bcs even i felt so hot as i wrote this lololol

(request is still open & you can drop them here)

A for after care

while rúben is such a sweet and caring boyfriend off the sheets, he’s insanely a beast on the sheet so it doesn’t come off a surprise to you that he leaves behind the cum he shot into you to dry. in his opinion, nothing’s sexier than waking up to that sight.

B for body part

rúben loves his hands and probably envies the organ because they can reach places where his tongue and nose and lips cannot. he loves to see and ignites a lot of your body reactions from his touches—your squirms, your arches, your shivers—so it comes naturally for him to love every inch of your body. although if he has to pick, he’s definitely a boob person.

C for cum

as exhibited under point A above, nothing is sweeter than the sensation of him being engulfed by your insides like a lover’s hug after a long seperation, therefore his favourite place to shoot his cum is inside of you.

D for dirty secret

you always wear something that’s easy for his hands to do as he pleases with you—open back dresses, skirts with slits, no bra, thongs…—and it pleases rúben to no end knowing you’re always ready for him.

E for experience

you’d like to think rúben is much more experienced than you but it turns out he only knows as far as things he like to do. it’s kind of a knowledge sharing between you two sometimes.

F for favourite position

while missionary cannot be replaced whatsoever for how much he loves to see your most honest expressions, he cannot eliminate some other risqué positions either. no, not the doggy style kind of thing but more like standing or when he carries you off from one place to another because he can slide into you much more easier and deeper that way.

G for goofy (e.g. are they always serious in bedroom or are they not?)

between the two of you, you’re much more relaxed in terms of personality. so most of the time, it’s more like a session where he shuts your mouth to get on with it.

H for hair

do we need to go through this? like, have you seen him with his shirt off? he definitely takes a good care of himself, which includes leaving his happy trail unshaved because you like it so much every time he lifts of his shirt.

I for intimacy

he takes things seriously, sex is no exception. he thinks the sensual activity is actually important because it’s the only one that can bring you two closest without space in between you. and sex with rúben is heaven on earth for you because he always takes a good care of you, like he always does off the sheet.

J for jack-off

he’s not a big fan of doing his own work because you ruined his perspective of hand and blow jobs for him. damn it.

K for kink

he’s silently into breath play but never pulling off more than slight pressure into your neck. he’s not a sadist to begin with, but you’re not complaining because it’s always so hot to hear the words he breathes onto your ears while he’s holding you still by the neck.

L for location

depends on the mood, to be honest. if either of you is aiming for comfort zone, then it’s definitely your room or the big, plushy sofa in the living room. but if it’s the otherwise, then it can be anywhere that’s stable enough to hold both of you—I mean, look at the (literal) size of that guy. the kitchen island’s lucky they’re made of marbles.

though, deep down, rúben holds a soft spot to the floor-length window of your vanity.

M for motivation

when his girlfriend looks like you, rúben doesn’t need to find a motivation to initiate sex. but there’s always something about you lifting your shirt off your head as you walk into your closet…

N for no (as in what turn him off or something he’d most likely reject)

anything that makes your uncomfortable, period.

that, and anything that requires him to show you off to people while doing sex.

O for oral

while you taste absolutely divine, he prefers to receiving heads from you because he loves seeing the glint in your eyes as you feel powerful going down on him. as a bonus, he likes to hear your grunts and see your determination as you try to fit all of him inside your mouth, wanting to please him like a good girl you are.

P for pace

despite claiming he’s not a sadistic earlier, he loves torturing you by going in and out of you super slow, taking in the sight of your pussy swallowing his girth good and feeling his bulge on your lower stomach underneath his palms, while he sees you losing your sanity bits by bits.

Q for quickie

it’s not often rúben loses his head but there was one occurrence where he came with you for your bridesmaid fitting and you looked so good in that dress that it drove him wild. because he certainly couldn’t rip the dress out of you this second, he chose to fuck you wordlessly in the VIP fitting room like there wasn’t any staffs waiting beyond the curtain. you’d never come so fast in your life that day.

R for risk

living up to his reputation of man of routine, it’s mostly you that hints or coaxes him to try somethings with you. who is he to say no anyway, as long as it’s not something that crosses his line?

S for stamina

do not ask about this thing to a man who runs back and forth on a pitch for a full 90-minute. you even have to hire your own professional trainer to keep up with his energy, or else you’d only last for an hour before passing out without giving back pleasures to rúben.

T for toys

your bunny vibrator was actually your only best friend, until you met rúben. but being a good boyfriend, he likes to indulge your friends, always, and that includes the rubber bunny. you’re certainly not complaining when it makes your orgasm intensifies from both the sensation of rúben’s balls slamming against your skin and the vibrating machine combined.

U for unfair (e.g. how much they like to tease?)

going this far, it’s pretty safe for us to conclude that he loves to tease you endlessly. if not, he wouldn’t have kept the happy trail unshaven or asked you to leave your underwear behind during one christmas dinner with his family. and once in a while, you’d love him to get a taste of his own medicine because you know that a sexually frustrated rúben dias is the best side of rúben you can ask for.

V for volume

his voice is naturally deep so whenever he grunts dirty words while you sink down on him, the vibration reaches your clit and brings you closer to the edge faster than you’d like. but he’s more on the silent type because he likes to hear your moans and whines and gasps.

W for wild card (a random headcanon)

rúben’s most memorable moment of you two having sex was that one summer night on your vacation, both of your heads dizzy from the fizz drunk but enough to push rúben to—at first—tease you by peeling off the black sundress you were wearing, the pads of his fingers kissing your skin as light as his lips peppering down kisses on the trail of his fingers. your broken gasps fuelled his adrenaline more as he caressed your clit with a hand, while the other slithering upwards to the direction of your neck. your hot breaths steamed off against the mirror in front of you as you felt his large hands going from your belly button, to your ribs, to the middle of your ample breasts, until they settled well on your collarbone. you could feel your right boob folded nicely but carnally in the inside of your elbow, and you had never experienced something so sexily raw.

X for xray

I’m sure even we all recognise the size of his delicious cock ghosting over his pants on several of his steamy photoshoots. yes, we’re talking about the nike underwear one.

Y for yearning (i.e. how high is their sex drive?)

not that high, compared to normal people. once or twice in a month due to your busy schedules, but it’s always worth the mornings you’re being reprimanded by your boss.

Z for zzz (i.e. how quickly they’ll fall asleep afterwards)

going back to the exhibition under point A, rúben isn’t one to fall asleep fast because it’s always a cuddle session after a damn good sex for you both. but between the two of you, of course you fall asleep faster (cue point S) and when he’s in the mood, he stays awake longer so he can wipe off all the dirt of your body so you can sleep comfortably.

#anon asks #oh-saints answers #oh-saints writes #oh-saints writes requests #ruben dias #rúben dias #ruben dias smut #ruben dias blurb #ruben dias blurbs #ruben dias drabble #ruben dias drabbles #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias fanfiction #footballer smut #footie fic #footie fanfic

[dungeonmalcontent]

The inscription above the dias in the treasure room reads: "only an open mind can draw The Blade of All."

And you were intrigued at first. The hilt of a sword visible above a carved stone plinth; surely only a worthy hero would be able to draw the sword from the stone. Perhaps whoever drew the sword would be a king or receive some other noble reward.

But it was just a hilt.

You contemplated what it could mean. An open mind. You places the hilt to your brow, even where your helmet had knocked open your temple. But nothing had changed. It was just the hilt to a sword. One and a half hand, gold, brass, ivory, leather, rubies, sapphires, a diamond that shone like a star in the claw of the sword's pommel. Maybe it wasn't some legendary weapon. It would fetch a fair price regardless.

But as you traveled back to town, it still bothered you. No sword maker would leave a hilt that finely made without a blade. And when you looked at where the blade should be there was some hint of silvered steel. Perhaps the blade has broken off.

But the name. The position I had been left in. The dungeon it has been entombed in. The dias had said that the sword had to be drawn, but it wasn't *in* the dias. It was in... nothing.

Or was it everything. The sword of *all*.

You hold out the hilt and move as though you are drawing it from a sheath that you can't see. And something happens. A shining blade of every color you've ever seen with and edge you can't describe as anything other than the sound of the Earth's crust. It was sheathed in the world, in reality. And you have drawn it from fiction.

#fantasy #writing #fantasy worldbuilding #world building #the sword of all

[ifearzombies]

War Of The Three Realms

Chapter 1- Invitations.

     You sit in the living room of the House of Lamentation. Mammon is basically laying in your lap as you both listen to the Tales Of The Seven Lords on audiobook. After seeing the series, Mammon agreed to give the books a try, but he could only handle the audiobooks so his hands could play on his phone. Your hand runs through his white hair as you listen to the novels.

     You hear Lucifer’s footsteps approach and you sit up a little with a smile. “Hey Lucifer,” you say as Mammon continues to lounge in your lap, greedily keeping anyone from attempting to sit there, “Something the matter?”

     “No. Just you have a letter from Lord Diavolo. A formal invitation separate from us,” Lucifer explains. You look at him perplexed as you take your letter; since you permanently live in the Devildom in the House of Lamentation now. Lucifer gives a nod of understanding. “I’m not sure why you are singled out, but we will go along with what Lord Diavolo wants here.”

     “Lucifer. You’re being formal,” Mammon groans, “Is it some sort of gala again?”

     “Yes. It’s a Three Realms Gala. Diplomats from the Human and Celestial Realms will be attending,” Lucifer adds, “We will be attending as diplomats for the Devildom.”      “I guess... I’m attending as a human diplomat alongside Solomon,” you muse as you open your letter, pausing the audiobook, “I wonder who else is coming from the human realm.”      “Three representatives that work at something called the United Nations. Specifically they chose The President of the United States, The Prime Minister of Japan, and the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.”

     “Holy shit. I’m going to need to be really fancy,” you explain as you sigh, “Lets see... Gala’s in three weeks. I suppose I should meet up with Solomon and ask if he can be my escort. Since... Humans.”

     “EH?! Why do ya gotta go with Solomon just cuz you’re human. I’M your first man. I should be your consort! No. You should be the consort of the GRE- AH!” Mammon’s tirade ceases as Lucifer smacks him upside the head.

     “No. They should be Solomon’s consort for this. It’s a diplomatic meeting. Not a date. While I’d rather they come with us brothers, in this instance they are correct,” Lucifer explains, “Though... I do wish I knew why there’s a meeting now.”

     “Maybe Dia’s able to start letting demons and humans move freely through Earth and the Devildom,” you say hopefully, “I’d love for you guys to visit my relatives with me without such hassles.”

     “I can ask. I do hope that is the case... I know you like to visit your friends and relatives.” Lucifer gives you a warm smile and ruffles your hair. “I will go notify the others.” He then leaves you and Mammon to go back to what you were doing.

     You play the audiobook and one hand continues to go through Mammon’s hair as you take out your D.D.D. and start texting Solomon.

[text: MC] Hey Solomon. Did you get an invite to Dia’s for a gala/diplomacy meeting?

[text: Solomon] I did. Though I am concerned. Simeon and Luke got letters as well- one from the Celestial Realm and one from Diavolo. After receiving the letter from the Celestial Realm they instantly packed and went back. Barbatos and I are highly curious and worried.

[text: MC] Wait really? They left without a goodbye? That’s... very unlike them.

     You frown as you consider the implications of the angels leaving without warning or farewell. Why would they leave?

[text: MC] Did Simeon message you after they left?

[text: Solomon] No. I tried. ... I’m worried my destined. This cannot bode well. But do not tell the others yet. I could be worried for nothing. At any rate, for what reason did you message me?

[text: MC] Oh! I wanted to be your consort for the event. Us humans as diplomats/reps together. If you’d have me?

[text: Solomon] How could I ever deny you, my destined. :) I’m honored you asked me. I know how attached to the brothers you are. Though, may I ask. Was I your first choice? Normally you pick Mammon first.

[text: MC] Ow. But yes. I did think of you first. Mammon pouted quite a bit over it.

[text: Solomon] <3 ^_^ That makes me feel quite special. How about you come over tomorrow for dinner and I’ll cook for you!

     You instantly grimace.

     “Did he offer to cook for ya,” Mammon asks with a smirk.

     “Yes. Now shush you demonic tsundere!”

      “I’m not a sun-dairy!”

     “You are,” you tease as you ruffle Mammon’s hair, making him settle down again.

[text: MC] How about we cook together! I love cooking with you! :D <3

     You had found that when you cook with the sorcerer, his magic didn’t mess up the food. So now you cook with him whenever you two have dinner together. It’s saved your stomach a lot of stress and he really loves you two spending such spousely time together like that.

[text: Solomon] I’d love that! See you tomorrow my sweetie! <3

     You smile and put your D.D.D. away. Though your smile is soon replaced with tension. Simeon and Luke leaving without telling anyone? Without saying goodbye? It hurt and worried you more than you wanted it to.

     “What’s wrong, partner,” Mammon asks, “An’ don’t tell me to just not worry about it. I can see it’s buggin’ ya.”

     “Just... something Solomon said has me concerned,” you answer as you hold Mammon tight.

     “He offered to cook for ya. Of course that’s gonna have you concerned. You really shouldn’t eat anythin’ that man makes. How about I cook ya somethin’ nice before you go over there.”

     “It’ll be fine, Mammon. I promise. Now let’s finish this chapter and then after we can work on your new money idea. I think Lucifer might actually approve the human hot dog stand you wanna run for a couple of days... We might have to go there to get a bunch of hot dogs. But I think it’d work!”

     “See! This is why you’re my partner in crime. Imagine how much money we’ll make tailgatin’ outside’a Beel’s Fangol game!”

     “Honestly you could just set up outside the house and Beel would buy everything.”

     “An’ charge Beel money?! What. Do ya kick puppies in your spare time,” Mammon teases.

     “Okay good point. Heh... Any rate. Shall we finish the book?”

     “Yeah. Let’s finish.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

     You arrive at Solomon’s with a bottle of Demonus in your arms. You smile and knock and the sorcerer opens the door before hugging you tight.

     “Hello, my destined. How was your day,” he asks as he leads you in and takes the bottle to put in the fridge.

     “It was okay. Beel had a hunger tantrum because he found out that Mammon and I bought a lot of hot dogs for a money making idea. Lucifer actually was OK with this one. But Beel got one whiff of those hot dogs and just... couldn’t control himself,” you explain, “So the kitchen isn’t useable for a few days and the four hundred hot dogs we purchased have been consumed. Beel at so much that even Belphie needs to recover from that.”

     Solomon laughs and offers you a slice of cake. “Here. I got this from Madam Screams. And I’m not sure you can wait for dinner after all that.”

     You dig into the cake ravenously. “Hell yes. Like. Levi has snacks I love in his room, but ramen isn’t actually a meal despite him saying otherwise. How was your day? Any word from Simeon and Luke?”

     “No...” Solomon looks away sadly. “I’m worried. We’re all family. I don’t like that they left like that. It makes me concerned about this diplomatic meeting. ... My Destined. If we’re forced to leave... Will you come with me?”

     “We’re not leaving! Come on... The Celestial Realm allowed the exchange program. They shouldn’t just veto it.”

     “We’re not exchange students anymore,” Solomon points out, “You emigrated. And while I need no such formal documentation, we both live here and work here and are bound to the denizens here.”

     You stop and process that. It’s true. While you still attend RAD, you’re not an exchange student. You’re just a student. And Solomon was barely an exchange student back when you first came. He’s bound to 70 demons and was when you came. And two of them are some of the most powerful demons to exist.

     “Still... They allowed the emigration. Why would they suddenly-”

     “You read up on the history of the Realms. My destined. When have they ever been reasonable up there.”

     You can’t stand the gnawing feeling that’s forming in your gut. “I just... I can’t lose my family, Solomon. I won’t let that happen. I’m sure this is just a normal diplomatic dinner. Maybe to re-allow Simeon and Luke back?”

     Solomon moves and holds you close. “I hope so, my Destined. I hope so.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #[[I know Satan is not mentioned in this chapter. But I'm just going to tag everyone in this series.]] #obey me war of the three realms #war of the three realms #obey me om

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

between the lines | chapter 03

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

synopsis: isabella is a sports journalist covering the premier league. she has sworn to never get involved with a football player. that is, until she meets a handsome portuguese defender. warnings: incorrect journalism references; timeline of events are not faithful to real life; i have never been to england; mutual pining; romantic comedy;  minors dni.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Chapter 03 — No one can accuse me of diving because I can't even swim

My mother died when I was very young, so dad had to raise me and my brother all by himself. Mom and dad didn’t have any siblings, so, since very early in life, Carlos and I understood the importance we had in each other's life. Even more so when dad told us he was sick. The tree of us where in the living room, watching Valencia lose to Espanyol, and before the 90’ mark, dad said:

“I have cancer.”

Just like that. We lost him a few months later. I still feel like that match lasted longer than the time I had left with him. My brother and I developed the morbid habit of blurting out important news during football matches after that. We just sit on the couch, sitting side by side and not making eye contact, and we just say whatever we want to. 

“Wouldn’t it be funny if we lose the game to Epanyol and that's what gets us relegated?” Carlos says, looking at his flat screen. I’m in his house, as I usually am in my free time, and we’re watching La Liga highlights.

“It would not be funny, no.” I answer, baby Lucía is on my lap taking a nap and I’m being super careful not to wake her up. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘ironic’.”

“Tomayto-tomahto.”

“So, things didn’t really work out with Lucía pediatrician.” I tell him, we’re both still staring at the TV. “Hope you’re not upset or anything, I told Sienna I didn’t want to make things awkward for you guys.”

“No worries, it was her idea. I knew you two wouldn’t work.”

Carlos is very calm when he says that and I’m holding myself not to slap him. What the hell? How did he knew? Why didn’t he say anything?

“Hey, how did you know we wouldn’t work?” There’s annoyance in my intonation.

“He’s not your type.” Carlos takes a sip of his beer.

“What the fuck is my type?”

“Don’t curse in front of the baby!” He slowly and carefully puts a hand on top of her ear, Lucía has her mouth open and has been drooling all over me for the past 20 minutes.

“Shit, sorry. Sorry. What’s my type, smarthead?”

“I don't know.” He shrugs. “Just not him. I mean, he has an actual job and looks ready to commit. None of your exes fit the profile.”

“You’re such an…” I look at the sleeping baby in my arms and then back at my brother. “Alright, just so you know… That– his job, his willingness to commit– wasn't the problem at all. I really was willing to try.”

“What was the problem then?”

I’m quiet after he asks and Carlos chuckles, thinking he won the argument. Whatever. Let him think whatever he wants. It’s Victor’s birthday, so when Lucía is ready for her bathtime, I giver her goodbye, properly telling my brother to go fuck himself on the way out, when my nieces innocent ears are far way from us.

Victor is having a small gathering, and I’m supposed to bring something. So, after quickly dressing up at my place, I ran down to one of those fancy organic supermarkets, to try to find something overpriced but appropriate to bring to your colleague’s 32 birthday dinner.

At the dairy aisle, I see an apparition. I mean, he has to be a ghost hunting me at this point. A demon sent up to earth to provoke and humiliate me.

“You have got to be following me. Like, there’s no way you’re not following me!” I just point at Rúben, still more than two meters away from here, actually scared of getting any closer.

“Hey!” He gives me a big smile and I melt immediately, getting close to him and smiling back. “I got here first. So you must be the one following me.”

“Is Manchester really this small? 

“I think we just like to hang out at the same place, Isa.” He speaks kindly, as if explaining something simple to a child. It pisses me off and I can tell he notices because he chuckles.

“What are you even doing here?” I ask, properly pissed off.

“It’s a supermarket. I’m shopping.” Rúben looks at me head to toe as if it was something natural and then he actually comments on it. “You look nice. Are you going on another date?”

“Maybe…” I’m trying really hard not to fall for his compliment, I bite my lower lip, to avoid saying ‘thank you’.

“Hopefully not with the same guy from last time.” He puts his hand on his pockets and continues to smile at me, aggravatingly.

“Why not?” My voice is high pitched. Rúben is the second man to complain about Dr Peter Warren today, and I’m not having it.

“You just didn’t look like you were having fun with him.” He clicked his tongue and pretended to make a concerned face.

“You don’t know what I look like when I’m having fun.” I regret saying that immediately, but Rúben looks like he’s having fun with my reaction. Way behind him, right at the very end of the supermarket, I can see the wine aisle, like a light at the end of the tunnel. It’s my way out, I start to walk in that direction, only turning to him to say an excuse. “Anyway, I need to go.” I point in the direction I’m going. “I don’t want to be late.”

“Do you want a ride on the way out? Knowing us, we’re probably going to the same place.”

Fuck, a ride would be great. Is raining, and cold and Mel won’t answer my texts for some reason. What kind of question is that, anyway? Of course I want a ride.

“No…” I answer.

“You took a while to answer, are you sure?”

“Well, it was a great question. But I’m pretty sure, yeah.” I take a few seconds to just look at him as I say that, he’s wearing a white tee and fuck me, I have to cross my arms behind my back to fight the urge of hugging him. “Thanks, really.”

“No problem.” He winks. “Have a goodnight, Isa.”

“You too, Rúben.” I wave at him and he chuckles, waving back.

At Victor’s place, Melissa questions why I didn’t answer her calls.

“You didn’t answer my texts!” I explain to her.

“Cause I was busy calling you.” Mel points out. “Oh, hi, happy birthday, Victor!” She says when he opens the door, giving him a hug. I follow behind.

“Feliz cumpleaños, Victor! I brought wine.” I show him the bag. Inside, there’s a birthday card that says ‘holy guacamole, you’re 45!’, because it was the closest thing to his age I could find, as an apology I also wrote a random Oasis lyrics inside, since I know he hates the band for no reason.

“We all brought wine.” Sebastian yells from the apartment's kitchen. 

“That’s what I get for being more than 30.” Victor says.

“Wait until you’re 40! Things will turn around.” Melissa winks, already chewing on something. Alright, we do have food then.

“Well, I’m still in my twenties, so…” They all boo me as I say that.

“Who invited you? Get out.”

I do get out, eventually. After too much wine and not enough food, I go back to my place. My 25m² sanctuary. The whole place is spinning when I throw myself in bed. The next day this will all feel like a dream, and it’s gonna take me a couple hours to realize that I actually grabbed my phone to text Rúben.

isagarcia good wine great market palce to chooce wine

rubendias really? 

isagarcia oh yes great party tooo happy compleanos victor

rubendias hey are you ok? are you home?

isagarcia si home bed casa

rubendias good i’m glad you had fun now go drink some water, isa 😂

#between the lines #rúben dias #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias #football fanfic #football fic #oc fanfiction

[yourfavoritebookclub]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 15

The plan in place is a simple one: The crew protects Sorrengail.

And I stay far, far away from her for as long as possible.

….

The morning after Threshing is always a political nightmare. But none have felt more nightmarish than this one as I sit up at the dias and examine the teetering social balance shift in the gathering hall. 

For the first time since Sgaeyl and I bonded, I’ve found myself thrown into the uncertainty of my own survival.

I’m not quite so arrogant to believe I’m above death at Basgiath, but I’ll be damned to Malek if Sgaeyl and I die at the hands of one of these inane riders and their weak-minded dragons because Sorrengail can’t defend herself. 

At the tables below, Violet is getting a masterclass in the new hierarchy. She’s clutching her tray, an uncomfortable grimace lining her mouth as a group of first-years clear an entire table as she approaches, Ridoc and Rhiannon following closely behind. 

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at the fear that lingers in everyone’s eyes as she walks by.

They should fear her.

A room full of wide eyes are on her as she moves to sit.

Imogen, who's been inconspicuously following Violet since she walked into the gathering hall, strides over to the table, swings her leg over the bench, and sits comfortably with the group of first-years like she wasn’t hell-bent on killing Violet as soon as the opportunity arose. 

The rest of the crew has made their way over to the table, and after one last cursory glance around the hall, I snatch an apple off the table and sit back in my chair, legs stretched out in front of me. 

Lounging and bored, the mask of Fen Riorson’s son, of a powerful, arrogant Wingleader without a care in the world. 

I pull out my dagger and peel the apple, my gaze still focused on the hall.

“I love the day after Threshing. It’s always such a clusterfuck,” Garrick snorts, his eyes fixating on Jack Barlowe. The “future wingleader” has been isolated and abandoned in the wake of the new pecking order. I look over and give a short, stilted laugh.

Garrick and I fall into a comfortable silence as we continue watching for signs of danger. Garrick’s eyes are wholly focused on the gathering hall, sweeping across the room like a royal sentinel. 

His gaze abruptly stops on something, and his forehead bunches in distress at whatever has caught his attention before quickly looking away, his expression blank.

Worry. Fear.

Garrick has become my second, a born commander; loyal, and honest, and more than I could ever hope to deserve, but it comes at a price. One that I make him pay over and over again as he shoulders the weight of the 107 lives that aren’t his to bear. The pressure growing stronger the deeper we delve into the coming war.

Guilt runs through me, abruptly interrupted by a prickle that shoots up my spine. An electric current has been merged with every nerve ending in my body

My gaze lifts and I find myself looking into Violet’s bright hazel eyes. 

There’s a question in her gaze. One I’d been waiting for all day. 

I look to Imogen and back to her in answer. A silent order from her Wingleader.

Do as she says Violence. 

Her eyes harden, and she turns away from me.

My head doesn’t stop buzzing until I walk out of the gathering hall thirty minutes later

….

The whole courtyard is awash with sunshine. Light and shadow dance together as the wind and sun create a shimmering glow through the branches of trees and in between pillars. Groups of people meander down the paths, stretched out on blankets, laughing or kissing or sleeping on the warm earth.

I lean back against the stone wall of the academic building, watching everyone enjoy the much needed respite. From the mouth of the tunnel, Violet’s figure comes into focus

There’s rage in every step she takes. She’s stomping, actually stomping her feet, and my mouth twitches at the sight. 

As Violet nears, I raise my eyebrow in question. She thrusts her middle finger in answer before blowing past me. 

Violet doesn’t make it more than a few steps past me when a scream rips through the air, shattering the untroubled afternoon, and a hush falls over the courtyard. A first-year comes into view, a tornado of panicked movement. “Make it stop! For Gods sake, make it stop!”  His cries are piercing as he clutches his head in his hands.

An inntinnsic.

I hone in on Jeremiah, assessing the threat. I move, shadows curling at my heels, to put myself directly in front of Violet. That edge of possessive protection envelopes me, my mind and body lying in wait with unrelenting focus.

“Jeremiah!” A voice calls out from the crowd. 

Jeremiah turns on his heel, pointing at Barry, a third-year section leader. “You! You think I’ve lost it!”

His eyes go misty, the tone taking on the thoughts of the person he’s hearing. “How does he know? He shouldn’t know!” 

“And you!” He spins again, pointing at a second-year in First Wing. “What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he screaming?”

Jeremiah turns again, facing Dain. “Is Violet going to hate me forever? Why can’t she see I just want to keep her alive? How is he..? He’s reading my thoughts!” 

I’m too focused to find any humor in Dain’s idiotic thoughts.

Violet takes a step up to my side. “Oh Gods,” she whispers in horror as she realizes what’s happening.

Garrick shoves his way forward, pushing Ridoc to the side as he takes up position on Violet's left.

My eyes don’t leave Jermiah as his screams turn into desperate pleas. “Make it stop! Can’t any of you see? The thoughts won’t stop!”

“Do something,” Violet begs next to me, and her voice is so full of anguish that my shadows respond before my mind does, an undetectable tendril moving towards Jeremiah. It feels like my shadows bend to her will, and there’s a burning sensation in my stomach at the thought.

My gaze remains fixed on Jeremiah. “Start mentally reciting whatever bookish shit you’ve learned,” I order. 

Violet looks up in irritated confusion, “I’m sorry?”

Of course, Violence could never just take an order without question. “If you value your secrets, clear your thoughts. Now,” I snap.

“And you!” Jeremiah whirls on Garrick.

Fuck.

“Damn it all to hell. He’ll know about–”

I push the tendril forwards, merging it with Jeremiah's own shadow. The dark bands of swirling black wind up his body, cutting off his words.

Professor Carr pushes through the crowd

“He’s an inntinnsic!” someone shouts. 

That’s all it takes for Carr to walk up to Jeremiah and, in one fluid movement, snap the man’s neck.

I release the shadows and they skitter away, finding pockets of darkness. Jeremiah’s own shadow gone as he lies on the grass, head lolling at an unnatural angle.

I suck in a breath, steadying myself, and glance at Garrick. His face is wan, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

We both leave without a word.

#fanfiction #fourth wing #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #xadenviolet #violet and xaden #fourth wing fanfic #sgaeyl #tairn and sgaeyl #liam mairi #andarnanurran #andarna #tairneanach #dain aetos #tairn

[lynaferns]

seems like the OC topic is here! how many do you have? and what types of OC you like more? :D espero y tengas un muy lindo dia!

I had to count them... uuuuh, at least 45 OCs not counting my sonas and selfiserts (and DCA AUs), all distributed between 10-ish stories, 33 OCs or so are from the same story and spin off of said story (yeah, I made a whole story and then took the whole cast of characters and put 'em in a completely diferent story and universe). There are many that I haven't posted anywhere yet, some don't have a story yet just the concept and some I haven't even draw them yet lol.

(one day I'll have to make a master post or something of all the OC's)

Y'know what? I'm making a list of the stories I have

(It got long, is under the cut)

A Shadow Between Worlds: Girl born with a shadow entity as her protector has nightmares where she gets chased by a monster she can't see, when she wakes up she's covered in all the wounds the monster made her. One day she gets tired and shearch for an old book her mother kept in the attic, the book contains information about entitys from other worlds. She opens a portal to an utopian world who's population is interested in knowledge, at a point where their world became the Universe's library.

Our Little Wonderland ^^Spin off: Nosy reporter enters abandoned mansion after a few rumours of some teenagers talking about it beging haunted with moving dolls, rooms that changed placement and typical haunted mansion stuff. Finds out the mansion is not haunted but it's magical and dolls want to search for the little girl that lived there with her father but they can't leave the mansion. The reporter finds the girl but she refused to come back to her old home at first. The dolls are fantasy characters from a story setting and needs the girl to do her rol as one of the main characters of the tale so they can complete their purpouse but the girl is not very cooperative.

Syra and Fayne (no title yet): Half human demon escaped her fathers fortress and went to live on earth. Along the ways she meets a forest spirit that decides to acompany her and later on she makes friends with a fallen angel she meets. They both live together as besties.

Robot and Cat (no title yet): Stray cat enters an old abandoned home already claimed by nature and accidentally wakes an old futuristic robot. The robot takes care of the cat and the house and search for evidences of where its owners/creators are and what happened to them.

Spike Boy (andry furries with powers): angry hegdog kid is pissed off with a guy who killed his parents and wants to beat his ass, meets a bunny girl who's parents were also killed by the same guy and she also wants to beat his ass. Said guy is the lider of an organization whos trying to dominate the world to rule it in his own way and make it a safer place but comiting several atrocities in the way to his goal

Khrono Cat (furries and automatons): A baby born dead is taken to the water and time spirits by his parents. Is revived in the lake's water by the spirits and a fallen star. Later on the kids life the spirits call him back to the lake to give him an automaton as his guardian to full fil his destiny of stoping a world catastrophe.

Fase REM (provisional title): There is people who are transported to an Earth like dream dimension when they fall asleep, they have to survive trough the nigth escaping from dangers and monsters. They don't know why but when they enter the dream they are filled with a feeling like they must find a person. If they die in their dreams they die in real life. One day a girl is visited by an entity who comes from the dream dimention and since then she's been afected by this weird event (and tormented by the entity who never left). She has to discover how this entity was created, where did it came from and why all of this is happening.

Heavenly Kids (provisional title, needs revision): Heaven and Hell where at peace at each other but one day corrupted demons started attaking the human realm and Heaven send 3 guardians representatives of parts of the body (bones, flesh and nerves) to save the earth and find out what is going on in the demon realm.

Shadow Family (no title yet, just a concept): A family of shadowy creatures who lives in the forest and sometimes disguises as humans to go unnoticed between them. The parents has some unresolved matters from the past and the kids goes investigate about it (this is actually a dream that I had where it was a show I was watching and got upset when there where no more episodes, then I woke up and got more upset because the show didn't even exist so I drew the family)

Magic Apprentice (no title yet, just a concept): Girl who is abused by her family and neglected finds a secret door inside of her closet that goes to several other closets until she gets to her grandmas house, except that the house now is diferent, is magic, and the world around her too. Her grandma is a witch and made that secret door for her to escape to when she got to be old enough (except that the grandma got tired of seen her grandkid getting mistreated and didn't wait anymore for her to turn 18). The girl becomes her grandma's apprentice and explores the world full of magic. (This is also a dream I had, I think my head mixed Harry Potter with Narnia(haven't even watched this) and Studio Ghibli artstyle for some reason)

I have... to do a lot... a lot of redesigns... and change a few names.

....This got longer than I intended. Well you can see the repetitive concept of non-human worlds or semi-human realms lol, and magic, dreams, and I didn't mention it in the list but there are a couple of stories that involve tecno-magic.

I generally like fantasy-sci-fi and retro-futuristic themes, non-human characters trying to live a mundane life or human and non-human (or diferent especies and cultures) living together. It's actually really hard to tell what type of characters exactly I like. I'm picky too, that doesn't help. If it's a robot I'm almost surely gonna like it, and if the robot has a living being as a friend I'm gonna like it more.

Y gracias! espero que tu también. Me he tirado aquí como 4 horas pero he entrado a archivos viejos buscando a todos mis OCs y he revisitado un montón de ideas viejas, así que gracias por eso también :D

Edit: I don't know what hapened but the cut moved placement and the images are one on top of the other, vertically instead of horizontally, I hope I fixed it. It doesn't let me edit from the phone so I went back to the computer.

#ask #ok I'm taging this to find later #oc #lyna stuff #lyna rambles

[octavio-world]

Dia castoffs

Photography is not permitted in The Earth Room. I would never photograph a work in secret. I am just here for the dirt.

#fall23 archive #walter de maria #delcy morelos #dirtposting #earth room

[chirp-a-chirp]

Obey Me: It’s a Wonderful Life

Fandom: Obey Me

Couple: Diavolo X MC (MC gender neutral, they/them pronouns); obey me brothers + Barbatos are referenced/make a brief appearance

Word: ~1000

Sugar/Fluff Level: 10/10 *No need for Barbatos to provide sugar, story has plenty of it*

Prompt: Those cliched traditions are exciting for me, now that I have you - part of Tis the Season for Love event from @voltage-vixen

Description: Diavolo and MC enjoy as Christmas date and watching a classic Christmas movie. 

…

If anyone should oppose celebrating Christmas, it should have been the prince of the Devildom. 

Diavolo, however, loved the idea of Christmas. He saw it as another example of how humans were so joyful and community-focused. Diavolo had asked a flurry of questions to MC about the traditions that occurred during Christmas—MC had always found Christmas to be a bit of commercialized hassle, but Diavolo’s enthusiasm made them excited to be celebrating this Christmas with the eager prince. 

Diavolo had promised MC a Christmas-themed date at the Castle. Barbatos lead them upstairs to Diavolo’s room. 

“Be prepared MC. The Young Master may have gone overboard.” Barbatos bowed and left before MC could see his smirk. MC opened the door and quickly realized Barbatos was not exaggerating.

A beautifully decorated ten-foot Christmas tree was in one corner of the room. In another corner was a table with a Christmas tree ornament making station and tons of sugary Christmas goodies (frosted sugar cookies, candy canes, a gingerbread house that rivaled the size of apartments back on Earth). The smell of hot chocolate permeated the air—hot chocolate, chestnuts and…burnt cloth?!

MC turned to see Diavolo frantically putting out a small fire by the fireplace. When the smoke cleared, MC saw Diavolo holding the burnt remains of two stockings. 

“Chestnuts roasting over an open fire,” muttered the prince, poking at the charred stockings. “Where did I go wrong?” MC burst out laughing. 

“MC!” Diavolo turned at MC’s laughter, putting the stockings on the fireplace mantle. The prince wore black slacks and a gaudy Christmas sweater featuring a dog with reindeer antlers and a red nose like Rudolf chasing several balls. The balls were all bells that jingled as Diavolo jaunted over to MC as they admired the tree. 

“Chestnuts are cooked in a pot my love, not stockings,” MC grinned. 

“Ah, that explains the fire!” Diavolo beamed. “What do you think of the tree? It was decorated mostly by the brothers.” The tree contained strings of red and white sparking lights and lots of handmade painted ornaments. The creators of the ornaments were rather obvious—yellow and black pictures of MC from Mammon, video game themed ornaments from Levi, cat-shaped ornaments from Satan, bright pink spheres with tons of glitter from Asmo, and dark blue globes with white sparkles like stars in the sky from Belphie. Strings of popcorn were scattered throughout the tree from Beel—well, mostly strings covered in drool that clung like icicles with the occasional popcorn puff not found by the demon of gluttony. A star emanating a brilliant white light topped the tree from Lucifer. 

“It’s beautiful Dia. It fully captures the beauty and chaos of the brothers,” MC murmured. “They’re all so different, yet together, they make quite a familial unit.”    

“Speaking of the brothers, how did you manage to get away from them?” Diavolo wrapped an arm around MC. 

“I found a rare cursed record Lucifer thought he’d lost.” MC leaned their head against Diavolo. “Mammon got into debt with witches and was going to try and sell it. Lucifer’s strung him up the rafters for the evening. How did you convince Barbatos to leave your paperwork?”

“I asked for a few hours off as an early Christmas gift.” Diavolo tilted his head to lean on top of MC’s. MC chuckled as the future king of the Devildom was still kept to task by the ever diligent Barbatos. “I did promise to get back to work after we finished watching the movie. What did you bring?”

“It’s a classic—It’s a Wonderful Life.” MC moved from Diavolo to put the movie in the projector Diavolo had procured. 

“The movie sounds very appropriate. My life has been wonderful since you came to the Devildom.” Diavolo smiled softly and settled on a nearby loveseat.

“Such a charmer you are,” teased MC, as they sat in Diavolo’s lap. 

“It’s the truth, MC.” Diavolo kissed the top of MC’s head. MC snuggled closer and turned the movie on. As the movie began, MC stated that the movie had some memorable quotes that made it really special. 

Remember, no man is a failure who has friends. “Our biggest success in life is our ability to form meaningful connections with those around us.” Diavolo wrapped his arms around MC’s waist. “Your ability to form friendships with everyone is your biggest strength, MC.”  

Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives. And when he isn’t around, he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he? “George Bailey is someone who puts his personal desires on hold, again and again, for the betterment of others. He responds to moments of crisis within his community with dignity and compassion. He reminds me of you Dia.” MC entwined their fingers with Diavolo’s as they uttered the words. 

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you, MC. You seem to have a calling for helping others.”

Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings. MC tapped a bell on Diavolo’s sweater. “I think it applies to devils too, Dia.” Diavolo chuckled and kissed MC on the cheek. His wings gently sprung out from specially made slits in his sweater. The wings became an impromptu cocoon as Diavolo enveloped MC in his embrace further. 

As the movie faded to black, Diavolo turned to MC. “I see why you love this movie. It’s message is pure—help others, embrace friendship, and don’t give up.”

“Yes.” MC traced a finger across Diavolo’s cheek. “I find that message to be the true meaning of Christmas.” Diavolo lowered his eyes and bit his lip. MC’s eyes widened in worry. “What’s wrong?”

“I told Barbatos I’d get back to work after finishing the movie.” Diavolo kissed MC lightly on the lips. “I find myself not wanting to leave.” MC smiled as they took the remote and started the movie again. 

“You said you’d get back to work once the movie was finished. You never said how often you’d watch the movie until we were finished.” MC encircled their hands around Diavolo’s neck as they kissed him. 

“That is true.” Diavolo folded his wings around MC as he deepened the kiss. “Merry Christmas, my love.”  

#obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me fanfic #obey me diavolo x mc #diavolo fluff #its a wonderful life #obey me brothers #obey me barbatos #obey me mc #obey me shall we date

[christiansorrell]

Play-By-Blog #14: The Isle by Luke Gearing

Welcome to my ongoing play-by-blog of The Isle by Luke Gearing! We are playing this adventure with its original system, The Vanilla Game (adjusted somewhat to fit the format). You can check out the Play-By-Blog Repository to get all caught up if you wish.

How Play-By-Blog works:

I write up the situation, NPCs, and more, just like a DM.

You vote in the poll to help decide the character's course of action.

I roll the dice, resolve actions, and write them up next week.

So on and so forth for the rest of the adventure!

Notation:

[Text in brackets is out-of-character/GM text!] "Non-italicized quotes denote text from the original adventure!" "Italicized quotations denotes NPC dialogue."

Our character: Medon Girou - Magic Cutpurse

Our maps: The Isle, The Dungeon (so far)

[You can use the links above to find Medon's Character Sheet and map of the Isle and the so far uncovered portions below the surface. On the Dungeon map, you are currently in Floor 2, Room 20.]

Now, back to the adventure!

[For this week's poll, I backed out my own vote (since I have to vote if I want to see the results early) which put Option 2 and Option 5 at a TIE (and what different options they are)! I flipped a coin to determine our path and Option 2 - "Travel south to Room 19" won.]

Considering all that you have seen, you gather your things and head out into the dark halls, glowing amulet at the ready. You head south and, knowing what lies all the way down this hall in the dark--that horrific ball of tooth and flesh, you cannot help but hug the left wall until you feel it branch off to the left and towards the closed stone door you saw through your arcane eye moments ago.

Before you [Room 19, Dungeon Map], is a large stone door carved with images of several cauldrons filled with people, cooking over open flames. The only sound you can hear is that of the foul being back down the hall and further to the south.

You slide the stone door's heavy latch and pull it open.

"As soon as the door opens, the contents of the room flood outwards--a thick sludge of earth, rust-red and black. The smell is debilitating." You go to react, to pull back and run, but the smell hits you like a hammer to the head, sending painful waves through your sinuses and down your throat. [Saving Throw: 13 - Failure (needed to roll under 8)] You are reeling from the stench as you feel the thick liquid wrap around your feet and begin to pass you in the hall, piling up more and more of your legs.

You try again to free yourself, your vision blurry from the pungent cloud of fumes now filling the hall as well. [Saving Throw: 5 - Success (needed to roll under 8)] With a burst of adrenaline, you pull your feet free and skitter back down the hall to safety. The ooze continues to pour out down the hall for two dozen feet or so before stopping, having spread as far as it can given the space and its disgustingly high viscosity. [If you had been stuck in the sludge for a 2nd round (1d6 roll of 2), you'd have fallen unconscious from both the sludge itself overwhelming you and from the thick vapors coming off of it.]

You check your feet and legs. No damage, but your head is still pained by that disgusting smell.

You get as close as you are able to the ooze and peer down the hall, into the room from which it came. There, on a slightly raised dais now uncovered, rests a knife--seemingly of bone or stone, it's hard to tell from this distance. Beyond the knife on the other side of the newly-opened chamber is another stone door, leading further east.

[A short, but potentially dire entry this week, but Medon lives to fight another day! See you next week (and don't forget to spread this post around so we can get more votes - to help avoid ties and just for more fun)! - Christian]

PBB #15 is up now!

#meatcastle pbb #ttrpg #indie ttrpg #ttrpgs #rpg #fantasy #luke gearing #the isle #play by blog #play by post #polls #choose your own adventure

[raphael-angele]

Tim Drake as Spencer Reid cuz they're both Geniuses

ft Jason as Derek Morgan cuz they are the older brothers:

---

After someone called them ass clowns:

Jason: Ass clowns?!

Dick: You ever work with someone who continuously show you that they're smarter than you?

Jason, pointing at Tim: every day

Dick: I hate it

---

Wayne Enterprises meeting:

Bruce: This is my son, Timothy.

Person: You look a little too young to be a CEO

Tim: I have experience and a PhD for it.

Person: You a genius or something?

Tim: I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 142, am multilingual and have a typing speed of 220 words per minute

Whole Room:

Tim: Yes, I am a genius.

---

Red Robin: *skimming through the whole file, turning a page every second*

Officer: The body was found last night at 2 am. *looks at RR* He was...floating in the river and some...fishermen found him. I'm sorry, can you actually read that fast?

Red Robin: Our conscious minds can process 16 bits of information per second our unconscious can process over 11 million.

Officer:

Red Robin: Yes, I can actually read this fast.

---

Batman: You find anything, Red Robin?

Red Robin: I was able to differentiate between two distinct voices, two authors. I found various idiosyncratic words, phrases, punctuation, and orthography within the blog entries consistent with each separate person. Words like soda and pop. One guy uses dashes while the other uses ellipses. Heh!

Superman, whispering to Bat: Where'd you find this kid?

Batman: He was left in a basket on the steps of my cave.

---

Tim: It's actually possible for twins to feel each other. There's a scientific explanation to it.

Jason: And you believe it.

Tim: No, I'm just saying, it's possible. I don't know everything despite you thinking I do.

Jason: I didn't say that. When ever have I said that?

Tim: Everyday since I met you

Damian: This morning at breakfast

Dick: Yesterday when he beat you at cards.

---

Detective, looking at the note the killer left: He's taunting us. I used this specific quote in my book-

Red Robin: On page 184. I uh, read it on the plane.

Detective: And you remember the page number?

---

Detective: Nice to meet you. I'm Michael Wolynski, Milwaukee P.D.

Red Robin: You worked the Jeffrey Dahmer case.

Detective: 16 years ago.

Red Robin: I've, uh, studied it.

Detective: You remember my name?

Red Hood: He remembers everything. It's what he does.

---

Case in Mexico:

Red Hood: What's all this?

Officer: Dia de los Muertos.

Red Robin: Day of the Dead, a three-day Latin holiday where souls of dead relatives are said to return to Earth and enjoy the pleasures they once knew of.

Officer: He sounds like he was reading that out of a book.

Red Hood: Trust me, he always sounds like that.

Red Robin: Actually, I, uh, was reading. I picked this pamphlet up at the airport.

---

Tim: I need to stop by a bookstore and get a copy of Empty Planet. I wanna reread it before we talk to the author. I haven't read it since I was 6.

Jason: 6? I was still riding my big wheel at 6 years old.

Tim: Do you mind? It'll only take 10 minutes.

Damian: To buy it or read it?

Tim: Uh, both, actually.

---

Dick: How many cops are there in L.A.?

Tim: City or county?

Dick: You actually know the answer.

Tim: I know both answers.

---

Tim: There's something wrong. *referring to Jason who's been quiet, reading a book*

Dick: Why do you say that?

Tim: He's been reading the same page for 16 minutes and 24 seconds.

Dick: Maybe it's a really good article.

Damian: It shouldn't take Todd longer than 11 minutes and 17 seconds to turn a page.

Dick: (disappointed) You time how long it-- What's your theory?

Tim: I'm extrapolating probabilities as we speak.

---

Dick: Professor is reading the manifesto.

Jason: I hope she reads as fast as Tim.

Dick: No one reads as fast as Tim.

#tim drake #timothy drake #red robin #red hood #jason todd #bruce wayne #batman #damian wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #robin #spencer reid #reid #criminal minds #derek morgan #source: criminal minds #batfam #batfamily #batsiblings