#possibly my least built on oc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hornedstorys · 1 month

Text

POTA Caesar x Reader - Mating Season - nsfw

Warnings: Mention of breeding, mating behavior, courting, nsfw, primitive sex - Sage is my OC :)

Synopsis: The King of the Apes is in mating season, but since Cornelia's death, no ape is good enough for him except a certain human woman. - Plays before the second part, Blue Eyes is a baby.

Caesar sat on a ledge and watched the colony, eyes straining. A cold breeze passed through his fur, but he skillfully ignored it. His fur was thick enough that he hardly noticed when it got a little colder, unlike you. His gaze slid in your direction and his eyes softened when he saw you, wrapped in furs and with Blue Eyes on your lap. You had been like a surrogate mother, as Cornelia had unfortunately not survived the birth, but Blue Eyes had. You were a great support because it wasn't easy bringing up a cub on your own and Blue Eyes was a really bright young ape.

And he loved to keep you on your toes when his dad finally had a break to catch his breath. Caesar loved his son, but he had many duties as monkey king and leader... And he was no female ape. These were the days when he wished he had someone to be by his side again and when he saw you there with the ape children that had formed a flock around you, his mind was made up.

He would court you in the next mating season and claim you for his own, at least he was going to try. He knew that humans didn't do that, well at least not in the way apes did. He had seen Will take his wife on 'dates', which was what humans called it when they did things together and got to know each other.

His eyelids drooped as he thought of what it would be like to woo you. He was missing another warmth in his nest and he had always been attracted to you. Your scent had burned deep into him and your smile made his heart beat faster, even if a smile among monkeys wasn't always the same as among humans.

He admired the way you dealt with the ape children, even if you sometimes felt overwhelmed yourself. But you did well, Caesar thought. He didn't know whether it was possible for an ape like him to father offspring with a human like you.

But the thought of having you naked beneath him and claiming you sent a deep pleasure through his body and his instincts screamed. Caesar knew that once he courted you, hardly any of the other male apes would dare to go near you.

Male apes were the most aggressive during this time. You didn't notice any of his thoughts, but two weeks later, a deer carcass lay outside your den and you looked at the lifeless body with wide eyes.

"Present," Caesar suddenly growled next to you and you were almost scared to death. Puzzled, you looked at him.

"Um... thank you," he almost sounded like a question. Over the next few days, Caesar kept giving you gifts. It was all sorts of things. Meat, flowers, berries. Even pretty stones lay in front of your dwelling and every time you asked yourself what was going on and why he was doing all this.

But one day, when you were just about to shake the berries you had collected with the other females into another basket, a monkey you didn't know came to your aid. He was a chimpanzee, dark fur and his eyes were as dark green as the deep forest.

You were embarrassed when he signed to ask if you needed help. You nodded, for it was a good amount of berries you had gathered.

His name was Sage, he had told you, and you honestly had to admit to him that you had never seen him before.

"I'm part of the hunting party and tend to stay in the background," he signed with his large hands. He had a similar human-like face to Caesar, but was not built like him, yet he had broad shoulders and his chest also seemed as firm as stone. You became more and more embarrassed around Sage and the thoughts you had and were not allowed to have.

You didn't realize how Caesar had been watching you from afar and his blood was boiling with rage, how dare that ape be so close to you. He could smell the change coming from you. You were aroused and embarrassed and it made Caesar furious that it wasn't because of him. Sage was also courting you and wooing you.

He tried to top Caesar in everything and be better. He was the only one brave enough to take on his leader, because Sage also had his eye on you and wanted to claim you. And both apes really confused you, so you decided to go to Maurice and ask him why they were behaving like that.

But nothing came of it when an angry Caesar grabbed you and pulled you with him. He could smell Sage all over you and you hadn't even mated yet, but this time it was over and he would take what was coming to him.

"Caesar?! What's wrong?" Startled, you let him lead you to a secluded clearing. He pushed you to the ground and growled: "Mine!"

Your eyes widened as you saw his erect cock pressing against Caesar's stomach. Gently but firmly, he took off your pants and the first thing he noticed was your intoxicating scent. You were aroused, he smelled it and he saw it too. You were already wet and it made him almost proud to see that he didn't even have to touch you to get you ready for him.

Before you could say anything else, you just saw Caesar's mouth land on your wet pussy and lick it greedily. He had never done this before, but his instincts drove him to want to taste and he let himself go. He didn't regret it, because your salty, sweet taste on his tongue made him growl.

Panting, you watched him eat you greedily, your legs were over his shoulder and you could feel the tips of his canines on your soft skin. You felt something building up inside you. All this aroused you so much that every little lick from Caesar brought you closer to orgasm. Your hand gripped his head and his green-gold eyes looked up at you. Pride welled up in him again as he noticed you grinding your hips against his face and your moans grew louder.

"Oh God, Caesar! ... Don't stop!" You moaned as his licking became faster and more intense. You looked at him with your mouth open, your eyes half closed and the next moment you threw your head back as your body shook. Your moans would be heard all the way to the village, you were sure of it. Your legs trembled and Caesar licked every drop from your labia and then pressed you closer to his erection with your pelvis. You licked your lips.

"You... Are... Mine!" He growled, his pupils dilated. Your juice still clung to his lips, making them glisten.

"I'm... better... Than... Sage," Caesar squeezed your hips and slid his cock up and down between your wet folds, growling at the sensation. Your eyes widened.

"Are you jealous, Caesar? You asked, and you could see his jaw tighten.

"You don't have to-", you started, but he interrupted you by starting to push his thick glans into you and you bit your lips and exhaled blissfully. It felt so good and you wanted him inside you. You wanted to feel all of him, so you thrust your pelvis towards him.

Caesar pushed his cock all the way into you and you clawed and gasped into his shoulders.His hips moved harder and harder against your ass, faster and deeper. His hands were firmly on your legs, which were over his shoulders, and a grunt came from his nostrils, which had already puffed out.

You realized it was a dominance game. Caesar seemed to have something against Sage and as he came closer to you, something burned through Caesar.

The clearing was filled with smacking noises and muffled clapping. Completely dazed, you were suddenly placed on Caesar's lap and he thrust back into you. But his eyes swung past your head as if he was seeing something and the next moment you were lying on the floor with your ass stretched out towards him.

Caesar hammered his cock into you so hard you thought you were losing your mind, when you turned your head to meet his gaze you saw that he wasn't looking at you, but at the edge of the forest. Gasping, you followed his gaze and your eyes widened when you saw it too.

Sage stood there bent over in the bushes watching you. He must have been looking, so he paused when he saw Caesar ramming his cock into you and claiming you. His eyes were dark with envy.

Caesar looked at him provocatively, running his rough hand over your ass, down to your back. He gently took your chin and lifted your face, his cheek grazing yours, his eyes remaining glued to Sage. The ape King's thrusts were hard and firm. He wanted everyone to see who you belonged to. He also wanted you to see it. Especially that you could see how Sage had lost. He was the leader and he got the female of his choice and that was you.

You were woozy with excitement and you could feel something tightening inside you. You would come again and Sage would see it. Caesar felt it and his hips slammed hard against you and his cock thrust deeper into you, making you think he was going to tear you apart. Then the heady feeling overcame you and your moans rang through the forest again as your wet, warm walls clenched around Caesar's cock and he growled wildly as he buried his seed inside you.

Sage left, he had seen enough and had given up. There was a smug grin on Caesar's face. He could feel the strong pounding of his heart deep in his chest and he could feel your legs trembling against his loins.He pulled out of you and watched his seed run down your legs. Exhausted, you lay down on the grass and tried to think clearly.

A cool breeze made you shiver and suddenly Caesar grabbed you again and took you in his arms as if he sensed you were fresh. Your eyes caught his and you honestly didn't know what to say.

"You would be... good mother... for Blue Eyes," he grunted, his rough hands gently stroking your, still warm, skin.

"Is that why you gave me gifts? And claimed me? Because you want me to be Blue Eyes' mother and your partner?" Your voice didn't sound reproachful, it was really just a question. Caesar lowered his eyes.

"Wanted you... Before Sage...-" his voice broke, but you understood and you were somehow honored that Caesar wanted you and saw you as a potential mother.

"You know I'm not sure I can give you children, Caesar," you whispered, your gaze lowering as well. But suddenly you felt Caesar's hand on your cheek.

"I don't... I don't care. I want you... No one else," his voice sounded firm and your eyes widened. He took a chance that Blue Eyes could be his only child just to have you.

Then he suddenly pressed his forehead against yours.

"You... belong... to me," he grunts, gripping the back of your head tightly as if he's afraid you'll suddenly vanish into thin air."Yes. I belong to you," you breathe and close your eyes.

#x reader #caesar x reader #planet of the apes x reader #pota x reader #planet of the apes

207 notes · View notes

whitedarkmoonflower · 9 months

Note

GIRL! You should write a Sihtric ffc that takes place when they are trying to get Bebbanburg back and they take him and Finan and chain them. While they are chained, Sihtric notices a girl also being chained in a corner (the oc) and after the battle he rescues her…the rest up to you. If you do pls tag me 🤭😳

Here you goo girly! Copy and pasted <3

Bebbanburg

Authors note: It's my last fic this year. I hope you'll enjoy. I found it not so easy to write, but here it is. A big thank you to @the-irish-girl for helping me with the ideas and writing prompts. I appreciate it a lot!

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Warnings: a lot of Angst and a bit of Fluff. That's it .

Word Count: 4,8 K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius@hb8301@zillahvathek@alexagirlie@gemini-mama @verenahx@mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf@willowbrookesblog

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

Constantin's voice pierces the inner yard, “He's no man of mine,” he declares, putting a very fast end to their venture.

'Your Scottish accent sucks,' Sihtric grumbles, his teeth clenched, as his hands are forcibly bound behind his back. Like Finan before him, he's quickly disarmed. They are surrounded by too many warriors, the resistance is futile. Surrender appears to be their only reasonable choice for now. At least this might buy Uhtred more time and divert the guards' and Wihtgar's attention from him.

"At least I gave it a shot," Finan shrugs with his shoulders as they are hauled away.

The air in the dungeon is musty and stale, the smell of mould and mildew mixing with filth and rot. It’s not under the ground, the cliff of Bebbanburg has made it far too difficult to dig deep. It stands as a separate building at the fortress's far end, with double wooden walls built on top of a stone base likely still left by the Romans. Its exposure to the sea winds and dampness is evident. There are no windows, its sparse lighting comes from flickering torches that cast long, ominous shadows across the walls and the metal bars of the cells.

“Torture them for answers,” Lord Wihtgar orders, his frame obstructing the entrance. The threatening tone in his voice suggests that he's more interested in retribution than actual information. He’s been fooled and humiliated before the Scottish king and wants revenge, eager to make them suffer. He approaches Finan, intent on delivering the first strike, as the astir voice of his commander distracts him.

“My lord, soldiers approach from the south.”

“How many?”

“Many.”

“Lock them up and then head to the ramparts,” Wihtgar commands and storms out of the dungeon. The guards roughly shove Finan and Sihtric into separate cells. The heavy metal doors slam shut with a resounding clang, the sound of keys turning in the locks echoing in the room as the guards depart, leaving behind a haunting silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the torches.

"It could’ve been worse," Finan remarks with a half-hearted chuckle, making himself as comfortable as possible on a pile of straw in the corner of his cell. He glances over at Sihtric, in the cell across from him, worried about how he's handling things. Finan is well aware of his fearless friend's sole vulnerability.

Sihtric clutches the metal bars of his cell, his knuckles turning white under the pressure. He takes deep, deliberate breaths in an effort to remain calm, but his anxiety is palpable. The walls seem to inch closer, the pervasive darkness reaching towards him like insidious fingers. Each breath he draws feels oppressively heavy, as if pressing down on him, dragging him towards the ground. Sihtric shuts his eyes tightly, trying to take another deep breath, fully aware that it’s his own mind playing tricks on him, yet unable to shake the feeling.

When he finally forces his eyes open again, the cell is pitch black; the torches have burned out. The space feels even more confined than before. He finds himself sitting on the hard floor, his arms wrapped around his knees, back pressed against the wall. The distant sound of water dripping is the only thing that pierces the silence. Time has become a blur—hours, days, weeks? He can't tell.

Touching his swollen lip, Sihtric winces at the pain but is relieved to find his teeth intact. He curls up tighter, shutting his eyes, longing for sleep to claim him, but it remains elusive.

The cold in the cell is piercing, cutting through his thin clothing and his stomach is growling with hunger. Sihtric shivers, his teeth chattering from the chill. His gaze falls to his legs, barely covered by a worn rug, down to his bare, skinny feet. They're blistered and dirty, stained with streaks of blood. His blood.

He can still feel them—the blows from his father’s fists, the sharp sting of the dog whip in Kjartan's hands as he lashes out, his face flushed with anger, infuriated by Sihtric’s silence as he doesn’t cry out. He never does; he never gives Kjartan that satisfaction.

He can still hear them—his mother's desperate, pleading cries as she kneels before Kjartan, begging for mercy for her son, willing to do anything to end the brutal beating.

A vicious blow sends Sihtric sprawling to the ground; he instinctively curls into a ball, protecting his head and face, bracing for the rest of the assault. He doesn't make a sound, and Kjartan, losing interest, tosses the whip aside and refills his mug with ale. Strong arms grip him like iron claws, hoisting him up and tossing him over a shoulder. Sihtric catches a glimpse of his mother weeping on the floor, managing a small smile for her before he's taken to the small, damp cell in Dunholm's basement. Again. It’s not the first time and not the last.

No, no, no—it's not real, it can't be, Sihtric reminds himself, taking a deep, steadying breath. He's not the small, scared slave boy anymore. He's a warrior, a grown man who has endured more battles than the years of his life. He has risen above everything his father, Kjartan, sought to deny him. Kjartan is gone. This is Bebbanburg, and his friends are counting on him. He can't let the ghosts of his past haunt him, not from beyond the grave. He can’t let his father win this battle.

Yet, here he is, seemingly back in that same cold, dark cell in Dunholm, wiping away tears with the frayed fabric of his sleeves. This hidden place being the only spot where he lets them flow freely.

"Hey, hey, Sihtric, listen to me," Finan's urgent voice pierces through the haze, jolting Sihtric back to the present. His eyes fly open. He finds himself still upright, clutching the iron bars, his head leaning against them, breaths coming fast and heavy. A sheen of cold sweat coats his forehead, and his entire body quivers. If not for his tight grip on the bars, his legs would have surely given way by now.

"There's something in your cell. Sihtric, are you hearing me? Check out the corner behind you. Something's moving," Finan's voice, though somewhat muffled, carries a distinct note of urgency that spurs Sihtric to slowly turn his head. In the far end of his cell, he catches sight of a peculiar, quivering shape. It isn't merely moving; it's shaking, accompanied by faint, muffled noises.

Forcing himself to release the iron bars, Sihtric turns for a better view. The torchlight is too dim to make out details, so he cautiously takes a few steps closer. His muscles tense, ready to react to any threat.

He halts, concentrating on the sounds emanating from the shape. It quickly becomes apparent that what's under the tattered blanket is a living, scared creature, its quiet, stifled sobs reaching his ears. With careful movements, Sihtric edges closer, extends his hand, and slowly pulls back the ragged blanket, unveiling the source of the quiet sobbing.

—---------------------------------------------

You're abruptly roused from sleep by the sound of voices. Straining your ears, you recognize the voice as Wihtgar's. It's been a while since the Lord of Bebbanburg visited the dungeons, not since your arrival. You quickly rise and hurry to the iron bars of your cell, moving as swiftly as the clanking chains around your ankles permit. The metal chafes against the bruises left by the shackles, but you barely notice the pain. Desperation to speak to him, to plead for your freedom, urges you forward. You've done nothing wrong; you've been falsely accused, and you need him to know that.

The voices grow louder, and you catch sight of two men being dragged in. They're strangers to you. Probably intruders. Pirates? Or even worse, Danes? Hastily, you retreat into the shadows of your cell, curling up on the small pile of straw that serves as your bed. Your fingers grip the ragged blanket given to you by a guard – a young lad with a pale face and kind eyes who'd seen you shivering, your teeth chattering in the cold night.

You watch as the men are hauled to the cells. The sound of keys turning in locks and the snapping shut of iron-barred doors send a shiver down your spine as you realise that one of the men has been locked in the same cell as you.

"Oh God, help me," you whisper under your breath, noticing the pagan pendant hanging from the neck of the stranger in your cell. Your fears are confirmed: you're locked in a cell with a Dane, the kind of ruthless, heartless warrior you've heard countless stories about. You are frozen, too afraid to move, aware that the slightest sound of your shackles might reveal your hiding place. You hold your breath and pull the blanket over your head, silently praying for the guards to return quickly, before that wild beast in the shape of a man discovers you, before he lays his hands on you.

Blinded by the blanket, you're cut off from seeing what's happening in the cell, but your fear is too great to risk a glance. The silence is broken only by the sounds of heavy breathing and the occasional shuffle from the other cell where the second man is locked up. You feel your legs begin to tingle, going numb from the tension and your cramped position. An involuntary shuffle causes the chains to clink softly, the sound reverberating through you like a fanfare.

"Oh no, please God, no," you silently plead, but it's too late. They've heard you. You bury your head between your knees, wrapping your arms around it, trying to make yourself as small as possible. You curse your trembling limbs as footsteps draw nearer. The stillness around you is palpable. Time seems to stretch on endlessly, each shallow breath feeling like an eternity. You wonder, anxiously, what he is waiting for. Your lungs spasm, your ability to breathe constricted, and a mix of whimpers and sobs escapes your lips as your shoulders shake uncontrollably.

The blanket is suddenly whisked away and a sharp yelp escapes your lips as you recoil. Your arms instinctively rise, shielding your head in a protective gesture.

Sihtric's eyes quickly take in the figure before him, immediately recognizing you as a girl. The hands covering your face are small and delicate, unlike those of a man or boy. He notices the shackles binding your ankles and his expression turns to one of surprise and rising anger, wondering who could be so cruel as to confine and possibly torture a woman.

"Hey, you don't have to be afraid of me," Sihtric says softly, carefully moving closer. "I won't hurt you," he reassures, tentatively reaching out his hand, as if to gently touch your shoulder.

From the corner of your eye, you see his hand approaching. In a reflexive movement, you spring to your feet, driven by fear, and scramble further into the corner, trying to press yourself into the rough wooden wall. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with those of the man beside you.

His presence is intimidating: tall, strong, with broad shoulders and chest, muscular arms visible under his sleeveless armour. His hair, braided on top, falls in wild curls to his shoulders. Even in the dim torchlight, you can see scars marking his forehead and cheek, and an unusual tattoo on his neck. Panic surges within you, and you wrap your arms around yourself protectively, covering as much of your exposed skin above the neckline of your dress as possible. Your trembling legs can no longer support your weight, and you sink back to the ground.

Sihtric observes you, his fingers raking through his hair. There's something about your tightly curled, trembling form, your wide, red, and swollen eyes filled with fear and disdain, that resonates with him. That feeling of being trapped and terrified, it’s all too known to him, it’s still there, it still lingers in his bones. He finds himself unable to look away. Cautiously, Sihtric crouches down, maintaining his distance, not wanting to frighten you further by moving too close. His gaze softens as he watches you, remaining still and quiet.

"I am Sihtric," he introduces himself gently, a softness in his voice. "I understand you're scared. But I promise, as long as we're in this cell, you're safe from me."

You are surprised by the softness of his voice and by the fact that he speaks your tongue, but it does little to calm you. He is what he is – a heathen, a savage and you are completely at his mercy, as the fleeting hope that the guards might return soon fades. It’s only now that the meaning of the words you overheard has sunken in - the fortress is under attack, and you've been abandoned to a fate that seems increasingly grim, forgotten by a world that seems to have no place for you.

With each movement deliberate and cautious, Sihtric settles himself on the floor near the wall. He leans back, drawing his knees to his chest, and places his hands on his knees visibly, a non-threatening gesture meant to reassure you.

He sits there for a while, quietly watching the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight. From the opposite cell, the sound of Finan's soft snoring indicates that he's making the most of this unexpected respite. Sihtric wants to convey to you that he is no threat. Understanding that words alone cannot convince you, he chooses to show it through his actions. So he just sits there patiently, giving you the space and time you need to realise that he means no harm.

You steal covert glances at the formidable Dane seated beside you. There's something compelling about him that repeatedly draws your gaze back to the stranger. He has remained still for some time, silent and not even looking your way. The air of strength and assurance he exudes is captivating, and his mere presence beside you has an unexpectedly soothing effect. Gradually, you feel the tension in your muscles easing and your sobs slowly subsiding.

Sihtric senses this subtle change in you, indicating that you're no longer overwhelmed by panic. He turns his head just enough to see you and clears his throat gently.

"Please, don't be afraid," Sihtric speaks in a soft, hushed tone. "I mean you no harm," he reassures once again.

Slowly, you lift your head, and your eyes unintentionally lock with his. The warm sincerity you see in them starkly contrasts with his intimidating appearance, and you reluctantly acknowledge that if he had intended to harm you, he wouldn't have waited this long. You break your gaze, only to let out a sharp shriek as you spot a rat sniffing near your feet. Startled by your cry, the rat quickly scurries away, disappearing through a small gap between the wall and the floor.

A smile slowly forms on Sihtric’s lips as he shifts his position slightly and stretches out his legs, his arms resting comfortably in his lap. He begins to speak, his voice calm and even. He tells about his childhood friend, a small, clever rat he had named Loki, after the trickster god.

"Loki was smart and fast. He'd come and go as he pleased, squeezing through the tiniest cracks in the walls. Each day, I'd save a bit of my sparse meal to share with him."

You find yourself captivated by his melodic voice, tinged with a slight accent. It almost feels as if he's speaking to himself, and only the occasional discreet glance in your direction reveals his awareness of your presence. As you listen, your breathing steadies, as you are drawn into Sihtric's story, finding solace in the sound of his voice. He recounts how Loki always found him, even in that dirty hole beneath his father’s fortress, and when he pauses, the last words hanging in the air, you unexpectedly find yourself asking, "What happened to him?" surprised to hear your own voice break the silence.

Sihtric's smile dims. "I don't know. When I finally left my father's place, I couldn’t take him with me. But I like to think that Loki kept having his little adventures in those dungeons, maybe even making friends with someone else who needed it. Like that little fellow you probably scared half to death just now."

You don't know whether Sihtric's story is real or invented, yet it stirs something within you that you believed was long extinguished. Is it gratitude? For a fleeting moment, the tale allows you to escape your grim reality, to forget the shackles chafing and bloodying your ankles, the hunger gnawing at your stomach, and even the bleak prospect of having no future.

"So tell me, why are you here?" Sihtric inquires, turning his gaze towards you.

You pause, your eyes lowering to your hands clasped in your lap. For reasons you can't quite explain, you feel a sense of safety in his presence.

"I'm accused of being a witch," you say quietly, your voice carrying a tremor of fear. "I'm waiting for my trial."

"They say I have unnatural powers, that I can summon spirits and cast curses," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. "But it's not true. I've never harmed anyone. I just... I know herbs and remedies. People in the village would come to me when they were sick."

"People fear what they do not understand," you hear the Dane saying. "And in their fear, they can be cruel."

You nod, tears brimming in your eyes. "I'm scared," you admit. "I know what happens to those accused of witchcraft. I've seen... I've seen the pyres."

Sihtric extends his hand slowly, offering a gesture of comfort. You're hesitant at first, but then, driven by an unexpected impulse, you place your hand in his. His grip is warm and reassuring, and you allow yourself to be drawn into a soothing embrace. It's been so long since you were held with such tenderness that you can't even recall the last time. Sihtric gently strokes your dishevelled hair, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat just beneath your ear.

Your moment of solace is abruptly interrupted by a surge of voices and the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. Four guards burst into the dungeon, heading straight for the cells. The doors swing open, and Sihtric, along with Finan, are abruptly pulled to their feet and dragged out. Amidst the chaos, Sihtric exchanges a quick, knowing glance with Finan and swiftly reaches into Finan's boot, retrieving a small, concealed sharp object.

With rapid precision, Sihtric attacks the guards. The ensuing scuffle is fierce but brief. Within moments, the guards are dead on the dungeon floor, and you stifle a scream, covering your mouth with both hands in shock.

Sihtric casts a quick, conflicted glance back at you in the cell, torn between the need to escape and the desire to help you.

"Please, don't leave me here," you plead, rushing to the iron bars of your cell.

"Sihtric, we don't have time. She's chained and we don't have the tools to free her," Finan urges, grasping Sihtric's arm. But Sihtric resolutely shakes off his grasp and re-enters the cell.

"Lady, I will return for you. I promise," he whispers, his large hands gently resting on your upper arms.

"Please," you plead, your voice quivering as your fingers cling to his armour. "No, no, no, don't do this to me, please, no..." Your voice cracks, fading into a hoarse whisper, your eyes desperately seeking his.

"I will come back," Sihtric assures you again. His gaze doesn't waver as he cups your face in his hands, looking directly into your eyes. "I will."

He gently frees himself from your grip and turns to leave. Your world seems to crumble around you, despair engulfing you. You grasp the iron bars for support, but they provide little comfort, and you slowly sink to your knees, a desperate cry breaking out as you watch both men swiftly leaving the room, leaving you alone once more.

—---------------------------------------------------

The battle is over, the chaos engulfing the field before the fortress just moments before replaced by a haunting stillness. The ground is littered with fallen warriors, shattered weapons and broken shields, covered with dust and blood. Catching his breath, Sihtric lets his eyes wander around. He spots Finan nearby, bent over and breathing heavily, hands resting on his knees. Sihtric gives him a nod before continuing his search, but there's no sign of Uhtred.

"He's inside the fortress," Finan says, pointing towards Bebbanburg as he straightens up.

Sihtric turns, and a sharp scent of burning hits his nose. Bebbanburg is ablaze. The flames have taken hold of the fortress's roof, and a thick plume of smoke billows into the sky.

"Mighty Godfather, no," Sihtric mutters under his breath, his hand instinctively reaching for Thor's hammer pendant on his chest. He hears Finan swearing and calling out to him, but he doesn't pause to listen. Driven by urgency, he breaks into a desperate sprint towards the fortress, pushing through the fatigue that weighs heavily on his muscles.

—-----------------------------------

The first warning is the smell. A sharp, acrid odour of burning reeds gradually fills the dungeon, accompanied by a thin veil of smoke.

"Is anybody there? Help!" you shout, tugging at your chains with increasing nervousness. But the only response is silence, a deep, unsettling quiet. Your heart races, pounding a frenetic rhythm of fear in your chest. You pull against the chains again, as if you hadn’t done it already hundreds of times since your first days here, even though you know it's futile. Still, driven by desperation, you persist. As smoke from the burning fortress above seeps into the cell, your efforts grow more frantic. You keep yanking at the iron shackles, the metal chafing against your ankles, turning raw and aching skin into bleeding wounds. But you don't stop. You can't.

Breathing becomes increasingly difficult as the air thickens with smoke, stinging your eyes and scratching at your throat. Your mind races, frantically replaying every moment you've spent within these walls, desperately searching for some overlooked detail, some key to escape that you might have missed. But there is nothing. The cell walls appear to be closing in, the shadows deepening and becoming more threatening as the flames above intensify.

Your hands, now raw and bleeding from your futile struggles, tremble as you keep tugging weakly at the chains, tears streaming down your cheeks, not just from the smoke but from the crushing helplessness. You are alone, there is nobody in this cursed world that cares for you, that will miss you and remember you.

Your life doesn’t flash before your eyes, as you have heard it told so many times. It settles around you like a heavy cloak, woven with threads of regret, unfulfilled dreams, and the bitter sting of injustice.

"Hey, Loki!" you find yourself smiling at the small rat near your feet. "Will you tell Sihtric that I waited for him? Tell him I believed him. Tell him I have no hard feelings. I just hope he's safe," you say, your voice breaking as you reach out to gently touch the little creature, but it is gone.

Suddenly, you hear the metallic clang of the cell door flying open. Strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pressing you close to a broad chest. "I'm here. You don't need Loki to deliver your messages. I promised I would return, and here I am," you hear Sihtric's familiar, soft voice whispering in your ear.

"You came back? For me?" you whisper, your voice trembling with sobs, barely able to believe what you're seeing. Overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, you lean into the sturdy embrace of the very man whom you had feared so profoundly.

The sound of Sihtric's axe pounding against the stone foundation of the fastening is deafening. Despite his efforts, the Roman-built wall is solid and unyielding. He shifts his focus to cutting through the chains, but his axe has dulled from striking stone. With one final, forceful swing, the axe shaft snaps, leaving Sihtric holding a broken handle, the blade clattering to the ground. Undeterred, he grasps the chains with his bare hands, pulling at them with all his might.

"It's no use," you say, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Please, listen to me," your voice grows louder, trying to break through to Sihtric, who seems oblivious to your words.

"Stop it!" you finally cry out, grasping his hands in yours. Sihtric's eyes meet yours, his face a canvas of pain and despair, his fingers still tightly gripping the chain.

"There's no more time. You need to go. You have to save yourself," you implore, cupping his face in your hands, ensuring he can't look away. "Do you understand? Leave! Save yourself!" your voice rises almost to a yell.

A heavy silence falls between the two of you, your eyes locked. Then you hear the dull sound of the chain hitting the ground as Sihtric finally releases it, his arms dropping limply to his sides.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs, his forehead resting gently against yours. "I… I've failed you."

"No, you haven't. You kept your promise. You came back," you reply, your fingers gently caressing Sihtric's thick, curly hair. You wonder if the warmth and ragged breathing you feel against your skin are from him or from the encroaching fire above.

You lift your face towards Sihtric, the tears on your cheeks mixing with the dirt and soot. Gently, almost hesitantly, you press your lips to his. The kiss is soft, filled with a sense of urgency. Sihtric shudders as he responds in kind, his lips crushing against yours so eagerly, so desperately. His arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you closer, and you feel his fingers trembling as they caress your back.

There's a raw honesty in this moment, the rest of the world – the smoke, the distant sounds of the burning fortress – all fade into the background. For those few seconds, it's just the two of you, sharing a moment of solace in a reality that seems increasingly bleak.

With a strength you didn't know you had, you manage to pull back, breaking the kiss.

"You have to leave, Sihtric! You can't stay here with me," you plead, panic and despair evident in your voice.

Sihtric looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and sorrow. "I can't. I can’t leave you like this. Not alone, not chained," he says firmly.

Before you can protest further, he gently scoops you into his strong arms and lowers both of you to the ground. Your backs rest against the wall of the cell, his arms encircling you protectively.

"Please, Sihtric, you have to go! Save yourself!" you cry, your hands weakly beating against his chest, your pleas muffled against the fabric of his armour.

But Sihtric only tightens his hold, pulling you closer into his embrace. "I won't leave you," he murmurs, his voice resolute yet tinged with sadness. "We're in this together now."

Your struggles gradually subside as the realisation sinks in that he won't be swayed and you cease your futile attempts to show him away. Nestling against his strong body you let your tears flow freely.

“I don’t want this, Sihtric. It’s madness. Why are you doing this?” you mutter through your sobs, but Sihtric’s grip around you gets only tighter.

—--------------------------------------------

As your energy fades and your consciousness begins to slip away, the distant sounds of the dungeon seem to grow louder and more urgent. In your dwindling awareness, you hear the hurried footsteps of multiple people and the muffled clamour of loud voices.

Amidst this chaos, a distinctive sound cuts through the haze - the pounding of a hammer, resonating through the dungeon.

Suddenly, you feel multiple arms reaching for you, lifting you from Sihtric's embrace. You're too weak to resist or understand fully what's happening, but you sense movement as you're carried away from the cell.

You're vaguely aware of being brought into the open air. The cool, fresh breeze on your face contrasts sharply with the stifling, smoky air of the dungeon.

As consciousness slips from your grasp, the last thing you become aware of is the sensation of being laid down gently, with a flurry of urgent voices surrounding you. The chaos around you becomes distant, fading into a blur. Yet, amidst this disorientation, there's a distinct, grounding sensation - a hand clasping yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

In that brief, fleeting moment, you recognize the touch. It's Sihtric. Despite the confusion and the murmur of voices around you, his presence is unmistakable. The strength and warmth of his grip offer a sense of safety and comfort, a silent promise that you're not alone.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #arnas fedaravicius #arnas fedaravičius #sihtric fic

227 notes · View notes

farfromstrange · 10 months

Text

Do No Harm: A Matt Murdock x Reader Series

PREVIEW

Masterlist | Series Masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Doctor!Reader

Set during: Daredevil Season 1

Summary: Two years ago, you fled across the country, leaving your past far behind you. Dedicated to helping those in need, you only barely escaped the shadows that haunted you. But you managed; you changed your name, acquired an entirely new identity and a New York medical license – all for a chance at a new life. You somehow managed to get a job at Metro General in Hell’s Kitchen, rented a new apartment and made new friends. The person you claimed to be did, anyway. Everything was going well. Too well. Until one day, you run into Matt Murdock. In an instant, the safe haven you built for yourself starts to unravel, and you find yourself forced to face the very life you tried your hardest to escape.

Warnings: Angst, domestic violence, implied/referenced child abuse, substance abuse, canon typical violence, injury, mental illness, strong language, eventual smut, Black Suit, medical jargon (but I’m not a doctor), Reader has a fake name that is used for a big portion of this story ("Olivia Carter"), no y/n

A/n: I've been watching a lot of medical dramas lately to cope with the drama of life. This is how this idea came to life. I couldn't help myself. As mentioned in the warnings, Reader has a fake name due to her history, but it still a reader insert. I use "you" and she/her pronouns when referring to the Reader. So you can either see her as an OC or as yourself. I hope you guys enjoy this little gem! See more information below.

18+ for EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DNI!

More under the cut.

ONE: Night Shift (coming December 1st)

Excerpt from Chapter 1

[…] Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense.

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—he can’t get hurt again.

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. […]

-> Story Aesthetic

If you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know! I do separate ones for all of my series because not everyone who filled out the tag list form wants to read an entire series. So, this will be tagged separately and only those who want me to.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x ofc #female reader #reader insert #medical drama #no y/n #series #do no harm #charlie cox #matt murdock imagines #lizzi writes #preview

157 notes · View notes

myz-wykkyd · 8 months

Text

I'm pleased to announce the completion of my public, free to join MTAS-Discord server, "Our Time at Sandrock". During my time in the MTAS fandom, I've noticed that a number of users often speak about how they feel alone in the fandom, with no one to talk to or interact with. OTAS was created with those people in mind- so that anyone who wants to share their work, discuss interactions with their characters, ect. can do so amongst a group of their peers and finally find the connections they've been missing. :)<3 I don't expect anything huge, but I do genuinely hope that we can build our own friendly little community. Special to @florisam for helping me get this baby up and running<333

Anyone interested in joining can do so through the link posted below. A few things to keep in mind however below the cut:

As of 9/9/2024, this server has been converted to a purely 18+ server in preparation for a NSFW space to be added in the future. Minors are not allowed and any attempts to join the server while underage will result in an immediate ban.

This is my first time running a server. I've done my best to smooth things out from the get go, but there may still be a few bumps here and there that need fixing. I ask that anyone who joins the server to keep that in mind. Any polite suggestions for improvement are welcome.

All users who join the server are required to introduce themselves before being granted access to the rest of the server. This is to prevent bots, spammers, and anyone with ill-intentions from causing a mess. It may take time for access to be granted, so again I ask for patience.

Please familiarize yourself with our server rules, character, and art guidelines before you being posting your work in the chat. There are a few of them and all of them are to make sure your experience within the group is as fun and worry-free as possible.

Artists, writers, and other creatives are all equally welcome.

There is a forum specifically dedicated to sharing your characters and discussing interactions with other builders built into the server. The threads you create are your own space to build as you please, and there are rules in place designed to keep them that way and ensure at least everyone gets at least one comment on their beloved ocs. Hopefully they'll be more then though<3

This is a drama free zone. Seriously cannot stress that enough. Anyone caught bashing other members for any reason, causing arguments, being rude, or otherwise disruptive to the peace of the server will be removed without warning.

#ren posts #my time at sandrock #mtas #mtas builder #mtas oc

95 notes · View notes

thevoidscreams · 6 months

Note

Request prompt for mating press March for you!

You have recently been assigned as a chapter serf for the black templars and have been trying your best but it’s tiring work and during one of your late shifts you have fallen asleep! You thought you’d gotten away with it and no one had noticed but the next day you are told the chaplain has asked for you. Turns out he spotted you whilst you were sleeping on the job when you should have been attending your sacred duties. Perhaps big stern dom chaplain will teach you a lesson to reaffirm your faith…

Day 19

Pairing: Chaplin Soren (oc)x reader

Warnings: mentions of religion, spanking, bondage, cumming inside, power imbalance (if you squint)

My head snapped up, and I shook it as I looked around, confused. I clenched a soft rag in my hand, and brushed a stray bit of drool from my lip. What was I doing here?

It came back to me as I smelled the smoke from the censer. I had been polishing the steps leading up to the altar inside one of the ship's many chapel.

I looked around in a panic. No one was around. How long had I drifted off for? A few minutes, a few hours.

Throne preserve me, I'd fallen asleep on the job. This was sure not to go over so well if I was seen. Hopefully, I could finish up quickly and be on my way. I didn't see anyone, and surely I would have been chastised for falling asleep in a place of worship. The chapel wasn't for napping. It was for giving praise and worship to the god emperor. I bowed my head and continued on with my task, ashamed. Finishing the task as swiftly as I could I hurried out. At least no one saw me.

Dark eyes watched from behind the visor of the skull. Disappointment and disapproval swelled in Soren's hearts. He had liked you as much as it was possible for an astartes of his station to like a serf. You'd done excellent work up until this point, so diligent, completing tasks without complaint. And your work in this very room meant that you'd built a good report. It was a shame you'd likely never see him the same after he decided your punishment.

His hands twitched as he reminded himself that you are only a human. You do not have his endurance. But still sleeping in the chapel could not be allowed to go without some form of penance being served.

He felt his body stirring at the idea. He'd have to punish you so you didn't do this again. He'd have to be..very thorough.

The next day I was assigned to the chapel again on orders of Soren, one of the kinder and more personable chaplins. I thought about him and the odd request as I ran my rag over the stone steps again. I wondered if there was a reason I was to clean it again at night. Probably as not to interfere with the worship during the day.

The sound of ceramite on stone made me look up sharply. I was almost done.

"Good evening, my lord." I spoke reverently, not looking up past his greaves. I knew who he was without having to look past that point.

I'd cleaned his armor enough times to know it by heart.

"It is rather late, little one." His rich voice greeted me from behind the skull.

"Yes, I am almost finished. This is the last step, it took me a bit longer last night as well. There’s much to do." I replied, heart beating a bit faster than normal. I liked the Chaplin, Soren. I found him insightful and he was often good company to have while I worked. He would tell me stories.

"Perhaps you would have finished sooner had you not been sleeping."

My body went cold, not like the room was chilly, but as if my blood had spontaneously frozen in my veins. My hand stopped over the step and my limbs locked up, tense as if readying to make a run for it.

"It would seem you understand just how unacceptable this action is. Perhaps it was merely a mistake. I wouldn't have taken you for someone who disrespects the god Emperor. But then again, I am no psyker, I cannot see a person's soul."

"It was an accident my lord. My body was weak, there was so much work...forgive me..." My voice came out quiet, like a mouse.

“That is no excuse. If you are not fit for the rigors of your station then perhaps you might better serve in another form.”

My chest tightened and I found tears of fright blurring my eyes.

“It will not happen again, I promise. Please my Lord. I do not wish to serve as a servitor.”

Soren laughed, it was a deep rolling sound that flowed over the stones around me and despite my fear I found the sound lifting my soul ever so slightly.

“Dry your tears serf. I will not tell anyone. You have served well until now and I, unlike many of my brothers, understand that your body has limits that you can not always fight.” So he’d been jesting, just to see me squirm. He wasn’t going to have me turned into a mindless robotic slave.

He grabbed my arm, I was going to drop to my knees and kiss his ceramite clad feet in thanks but I found myself up on my feet, his free hand tilting my face back to face his helm.

“But you will need to face some punishment for this. You have allowed yourself to falter in your duties to our Emperor. You must confess and repent for these sins. I will handle you and this event will stay between us. If I deem it satisfactory then no one else will need to know.”

I nodded, fresh tears of relief streaked down my cheeks.

“Thank you my lord. I am so very sorry.”

Soren still held my arm and forced me, much more gently than I had expected towards a room towards the back where I had never been before.

The door was heavy, an ornate carved wooden door. My body was pressed firmly against it by him as he reached for the knob. I felt a familiar heat in my belly as he grunted softly and forced it open on creaky hinges.

The room was dim, lit only by the candles on a desk.

“I will remove my armor and hear your confession.”

I tilted my head in confusion as he let me go. Take his armor off, why would he need to do that?

He began to pull away pieces of his plate, placing them carefully, almost lovingly on a stand. I averted my gaze as he began to remove his body glove, my cheeks were probably very pink.

His helm was the final thing he pulled away and I found myself mesmerized by him. He was younger than I’d thought. His hair was a deep brown, cut short and neat. His skin was pale and his features were sharp. Throne he was beautiful, I found myself unable to look away. His eyes were dark, so deep I’d thought they were black till he lit a match off one candle to light several more. The depth of that blue was entrancing. The blueness of his eyes grew more apparent.

I felt as though I could dive into those blue pools and never resurface.

Soren came towards me, I hadn’t realized that I’d been backing up until my back hit the wall. He looked good in nothing but light pants and a tabard.

“You will confess to me now.” His deep voice sounded so clear and precise without the filter of a helmet. It sent pleasant shivers through my body.

“Yes, my lord.”

He guided me to my knees and I bowed my head in shame. Remembering why I was here.

“Tell me. What have you done?”

“I fell asleep in the middle of my duties to the Emperor. Leaving them unfinished while I rested. And I did so in the chapel. I slept in a holy place of worship.”

“Good. You have made a good confession. Is there anything else you would like to confess?”

I shook my head earnestly, I was sure that that was all.

“Very well, I will administer your penance, and you will repent.”

He made a motion for me to stand. I did, he took my arm in his and slapped a black iron cuff around it.

I flinched in surprise, he only chuckled. “Do not fight me. And this will go quickly.”

He took another cuff and locked it around my other wrist.

They were heavy and linked with a thick iron chain just as dark in color.

“For your penance,” he began as he dragged me to the wall and hung my chain on a hook just high up enough that I had to stand on the tips of my toes. “You will have one lash for every ten minutes you lay on the emperor's steps.”

One for every ten minutes. How long had I slept, two hours? That was twelve! Twelve lashes!

I craned my head to try and get a look at whatever implement he'd chosen and was surprised again to see not a flail or whip, but a paddle.

His bulky hand gripped the hem of my light gown and lifted it until the dress was over my head.

I wiggle my face free of the fabric and gasped as his fingers tugged my panties down as well. Leaving me with no layers between myself and the lather paddle.

Soren moved to a place where I couldn't turn my head and see him.

Soren admired the soft skin of your ass as he looked for just the right spot to begin. Throne you were a stunning creature. He felt his own excitement at having you chained and helpless under him.

He ought to be the one on his knees confessing. He was a Chaplin after all. But the way you whined in discomfort as you tapped around on the tips of your toes and looked so meek made his body hot.

He ran calloused fingers over the leather and then reached out to touch your warm supple skin.

Beautiful. Magnificent. Gorgeous. All failed to express how perfect you looked right then.

Drawing the paddle along your rump he felt his manhood twitch at your gasp.

You were enjoying this too much, he decided. He came to your side, paddle in hand and pulled it back to deliver a hardy thwack against your skin and he drank in your cry with a stifled groan of his own.

The pain was sudden and hot. My right cheek stung as the paddle made contact. It hurt, so why did I not cry out in pain. And why was there a deep and sudden urge to feel more of that burn?

“Count.”

Soren demanded.

I drew in a shaky breath. “One.”

“Good.”

He brought the paddle down on the other cheek.

“Two.” I squeaked the number.

I felt strange, a certain anticipation for the next blow growing. I gasped as his next blow went a bit lower and I heard Soren grunt in satisfaction at something.

“Three.” I mewed.

It was much the same for four and five.

I felt something warm trickle down my thighs and thought for a moment that I was bleeding.

Soren brought the paddle down for six, his manhood was rock hard now. The sight of your excitement dripping down your thighs was simply splendid. “Six~”

He hung the paddle on the hook next to the one you were chained to.

He needed this, his rough hands brushed your rump.

“Chaplin?”

Your voice, your body, your everything. It drove him mad.

His hand came down causing an audible mewl of pleasure to pour from your lips.

He licked his parched lips.

“Number?” He growled.

“Seven.”

“Good..” He almost called you a good girl. “Five more.”

I nodded at his words.

His free hand held my hip as he brought the other down to clap against my ass.

“Mmm!~ E-eight!” This was meant to be a punishment, I shouldn't have been enjoying it.

His hand seemed to linger before he drew it away.

Bringing it back down, alternating which cheek he struck.

Soren was practically panting as you moaned the word “nine” . He looked down at your soaked thighs, licking his lips and closing his eyes as he took a steadying breath.

It only served to fill his nose with your heady and feminine scent.

The Chaplin swallowed and raised his hand, bringing it down again, you counted out and he watched a trickle of slick fluids course down from your wet lower lips.

My ass was on fire, but I'd never felt so high.

Only two more, I whined at the thought. After these next two he'd send me away. I didn't want that, I didn't want him to send me off into the world never to speak of this again.

I'd just have to savor this.

His hand came down, I gasped, and wantonly moaned the next number. “Eleven.”

Soren came around to my back again, I could hear his quiet panting. Was he as affected by this as I was?

“Just one more.”

“Yes, my lord. Give me my just punishment.” The words seemed to pour forth unbidden.

Soren tensed, his hand on the verge of delivering the final blow.

He gave it, in the center of your ass. His hands came away wet, a splotch of your juices on his fingers.

He barely registered your count as he raised his fingers to his lips, he needed this, but it was wrong. Wasn't it?

His tongue darted out and his cock jumped as your salty musk coated his tongue.

His eyes slid shut, it was a moment of pure indulgence. The flavor was unlike anything he'd ever tasted. Fertile with the promise of your body.

Soren could bear it no longer and dropped to his knees. His hands gripping your thighs, just as taste, it was all he needed. A taste.

I was shocked by his actions, my voice failing me as I waited for whatever it was he was going to do.

I felt his thumbs brush the softness of my lower lips as he pulled them apart. I moaned softly into the fabric that had been pulled up and over my neck.

“My lord? What-” My question died on my lips as his tongue ran up my thigh. Collecting the warm sticky fluids I'd been spilling since we began.

He stopped just below my cunt and I whimpered. His tongue then made the slow torturously slow path up my other thigh.

Throne I needed more, I needed him to do this properly.

Was this part of the punishment, teasing me with that hot muscle till I was half mad with need? I already felt close to that anyway. But I doubted it, none of this felt like it was calculated. A spur of the moment decision to indulge in a forbidden fruit.

I could feel his breath, hot and wet as he rubbed at the outer edges of my cunt. His fingers dug into the meat of my thighs and I felt him lean in, silently urging him to do it.

Soren's mind raced, his thoughts a jumble. The sweetness called to him. He watched as a fresh gush of arousal wetted your entrance, and his breathing hitched as he felt the desire to lap it up with his tongue.

He shook his head, his knees felt shaky aashe stood. It was an alien sensation, uncertainty.

“Your punishment has absolved you of your sins… but you still lack the strength you need to finish your tasks. I will..” He swallowed. “I will fill you with the strength you need.”

The raw excitement that I felt was like nothing I'd experienced before.

“Yes, please my Lord. I am weak.” I gasped, submitting to his will and judgment.

I felt something warm and solid hit my back and jolted in place. His hand grasped the thing and his fingers grazed against my back as he stroked himself.

“Beg.”

It was all he had to say.

“Please my Lord, I am so weak. So frail, I need you to lend me your strength, your certainty. So I may serve the emperor with the same fervor and will as you.”

I felt the tip of his cock catch at my entrance and shivered. Then there was a terrible burning as he pressed in his length, made only a fraction easier by my wetness. He was big, so, so big.

He filled me, leaving me breathless as I felt his tip somewhere near my stomach.

Soren leaned over me, a groan welling up from his lips as his hands found the walls for support.

Soren's eyes practically rolled back in his skull as he pushed in as far as he could go. Breathing a few words of adoration as he regained his senses.

His right hand remained on the wall as his left arm grabbed you around the waist. Lifting you just a bit off the floor as your hands grasped the chain making it rattle

“I will give you all that you need, you need only ask.” His hips pulled back, his cock slipping out a fraction, a groan of satisfaction at finally tending to his more human needs accompanied the action.

He wasn't going to stop till he was fully satisfied.

He set a hard even pace, his hips clapping against your tender backside.

I whined, the pain hadn’t lasted, as soon as he began his cock touched all the empty places inside me that I hadn’t known were there.

I cried out for him, begging, pleading, my desperation for his cock was almost shameful. But my shame was the farthest thing from my mind at that moment. I just wanted to cum on him, and feel him cum in me in return.

It was a greedy feeling. Wanting more than he was already giving me. His chest was a persistent heat on my back and he panted out each breath.

Though I knew his transhuman form was not winded.

“Does my body please my lord?”

He groaned, and I felt a smattering of drool hit my shoulder blade as his face lowered down to press into my neck.

“It is..” He grunted, “an excellent vessel to receive the grace of the emperor. I should keep you filled, so that you may never falter. I will have to see to this task.. personally.” He moaned the last word and I clenched around him involuntarily as I understood his meaning.

“I would be honored by my lord’s offer. I would cherish the feeling of being filled by his strength and light. Please my Lord.” I squeaked, pressing my cheek against him. “Please never let me be empty of you.”

He groaned, and picked up his pace, lifting me further till my chain came off the hook. Soren held me as he stumbled back into a chair with me in his lap. He grunted and the sudden change in position forced me down on his cock further. Soren fucked me with an almost mindless need. Mumbling under his breath as if he was praying.

“Never let you be empty. Keep you full of the light. Keep you.. full.”

His left hand went to my stomach and he touched it with such love. It made me shiver and made my head spin.

“Yes.. full.” I gasped and finally came undone on his cock.

Soren fucked me through it, his pace increasing unevenly as he worked his way up to his climax.

He held me down on his cock as he let loose all of his seed.

I felt the heat with every pulse of his cock as he continued to fill my womb with rope after rope.

It felt like he came forever, but really it could only have been a few seconds. Yet I was full by the time he was done.

Just as he promised.

Soren undid the cuff, setting them on his desk and fixing my dress.

Then he took me to a cot I hadn't noticed before, he sat us down and laid me across his lap. Picking up a small bottle from a box next to his bed.

I wasn't sure what he was doing until he lifted the dress again and poured a generous amount of oil onto my still reddened ass.

He set the bottle aside and his calloused hands set to work, massaging the oil into my sore cheeks.

“Thank you.” I broke the silence and he hummed.

“I.. I will not say that I am sorry for all that had transpired here. You took your punishment well..but afterwards.. I did not intend for that. You must forgive me.”

He urged and I did something I didn't expect. I laughed.

It was such an absurd circumstance I just couldn't help it.

“Why are you laughing?” His hand clenched around my ass cheek and I could hear the hurt in his voice.

“There’s nothing to forgive my lord. I would happily do that with you again. And besides, I believe you said you would keep me full right?”

I peek over my shoulders to see his face darken with a blush. It was very cute.

“I would not force that on you.” He told me as he kept rubbing.

“I figured.. but, I enjoyed it. Very much so, that was the best I've ever had.”

“Truely?”

“Yeah, if anything, I feel I should be thanking you. It was fun, even if it was meant to be a punishment.”

Soren met my gaze and held it.

“I will have you assigned to this chapel then.. you will see to its care and when you do a good job… I will keep you filled.”

I smiled at his words. “Thank you my lord.”

He finished and I was going to get up but he pulled me into him, laying down.

“The stairs-” I began but he cut me off.

“Will be there in the morning. Rest now.”

I nodded and laid my head on his chest, sleep came easy.

Soren held you close for hours, just brushing his hands over your form and watching you as you slept. It was good that you rested so easily in his arms. You were going to need all the strength you could get because he was already planning on fulfilling his promise when you woke up.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #40k #my writing #mating press march #warhammer 40k x reader #astartes x reader #black templar #black templar oc x reader #oc x reader #my oc

96 notes · View notes

ryuzakemo128 · 5 days

Text

Goodnight & Sweet dreams

Pairing: Poly 141 x Australian Female Reader

Content Warnings: Cheating, Affair, remarriage, no mention of y/n or the variation of 'you', Possible prequel?, third person written. Angst.

Words: 1707

Masterlist

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Credit for the Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Note: You have many code names. Many. Many of them are used by certain people. Like the devil. You have many names. Boomer, Opal, Crimson and Emerald are the main ones used to refer to you. As your real name is covered in layers of black ink and confidential files restricted to the higher-ups.

Note 2: The only defining factors, I will give you, are the following: Codename. As labelled. Height. You are not small. You are rather tall, at least six feet and four inches. Roughly the same height as Ghost. Your voice is also quite deep, for reasons you can come up with yourself. As no answer is wrong or right. Might make an oc version sometime.

Note 3: I suggest listening to Moon Shadow by Cat Stevens when you read this.

Summary: “I don’t see you the same way anymore. I don’t respect cheaters, no matter the reason you might have had. You ruined this home by yourself.”

Boomer grew up on a farm in the Australian outback. Her father is an Australian Commando. Thus, she didn't see him nearly as often as her mother, who happened to cheat on her father while he was deployed. Her excuse was the lack of affection making her cheat with his older brother, Marcus. The CEO of a tech company he started up in America.

“I don’t see you the same way anymore. I don’t respect cheaters, no matter the reason you might have had. You ruined this home by yourself.” Boomer told her mother once her father came back on leave. He was immediately told by her.

Boomer decided to stay with her father, even though the divorce, and she hadn’t spoken to her mother since the end of the divorce had taken place. Her father, even though heart broken about the affair and the eventual divorce, he tried to keep a positive attitude through it all. Boomer saw right through quite often.

Pulling things apart, fixing them regardless of what it was, became Boomer's silent mantra as she grew older, mirroring the tireless work ethic of her father.

The farm grew quiet without her mother's laughter, but it grew stronger with the echoes of her father's footsteps and the occasional clank of tools as he taught her the ropes of being a true Australian commando.

She took to the training like a natural, her determination fuelled by the anger she felt towards her mother's betrayal. Each push-up, each mile run, every target hit, was a declaration of her loyalty to the truth and the man who never abandoned her.

“I don’t want to become my mother and cheat on any potential spouse, man or woman.” Boomer, adamant in wanting to be reliable regardless of any circumstances she would encounter in her life.

Her father often came home to small things fixed like the broken tractor, a leaky sink, and even a few upgrades to the farm’s security system.

Even reading into carpentry DIY projects like the bee aviaries she built from scratch. Her dedication to self-reliance grew, and so did her skills, a silent promise to never become what her mother was.

Her aunt, Alyssa, came over a few times a month to keep the house from going up in flames. Boomer showed her all the DIY things she made, often wanting to rescue bees from abandoned areas, unwanted areas and sometimes even from people’s backyards.

Her father had a slight smirk on his face when she brought home her first queen bee, a rare breed she had found in the forest. He knew she had her mother’s charm and beauty, but he was proud she had chosen a path of honesty and reliability.

Alyssa’s work as a beekeeper rehoming bees from areas where they aren’t wanted became an unexpected bonding point for Boomer. Her aunt’s gentle nature with the creatures and the way she spoke about them as if they were soldiers in a grand army, protecting the future of the planet, sparked a fascination within Boomer.

She began to see the world through a different lens, one that valued every creature’s contribution, and the delicate balance that needed to be maintained.

Her father noticed the change in her, the way she had found peace in the buzzing of the bees and the precision of their movements. He knew this was something more than just a phase; it was a piece of her soul finding its place in the world.

The farm grew not only in crops but in life as well, with more bees thriving under Alyssa’s guidance and Boomer’s care. It became a sanctuary for those who needed a second chance, a reflection of Boomer’s own spirit.

Boomer took the bee’s safety and health seriously, researching how to take care of the bees better and what ways to keep them happy as well as healthy.

Setting up a mini lab to study the bees in their natural environment without disrupting them became a weekend routine. The bees had become more than just a hobby; they were her silent companions, a symbol of her resilience and unyielding spirit.

One thing her father noticed was the ebony wood varnish on the bee aviaries, making them look more like a piece of art rather than a simple shelter for bees.

He knew his daughter had a creative side to her, but he never knew it would be expressed in such a way. Her creations weren’t just functional, but aesthetically pleasing, a reflection of her respect and admiration for the bees.

Each aviary was named after a character from an X-Men comic she loved as a child. She had found solace in their stories, in their struggle for acceptance and fighting for what they believed in despite their differences.

Her favourite, the Wolverine aviary, housed the most aggressive bees, which she found quite fitting. Each name was engraved in a small brass plate at the entrance, adding a touch of whimsy to the otherwise utilitarian structures.

She would then sell the honey on the farmer’s market for her pocket money. As she grew older, her love for bees remained as she got more invested in the military. She enlisted at seventeen, she told her father she wanted to because it felt like it was the right thing to do.

“I’ll give it my best shot, I promise.” Boomer pinky swore, her eyes gleaming with excitement and determination as she held her father’s hand tightly. His calloused grip returned the gesture, a silent promise of support and belief in her.

Her expertise in heavy weaponry like heavy machine guns, grenade launchers, rocket launchers, miniguns, anti-material rifles, and even the rare use of the Predator drone grew from her time in the military. She had always been a good shot, something her father had noticed when they used to go hunting together back in the outback.

Boomer dove into electrical engineering, electrical technology, nanotechnology and even robotics. During her military training, it was an eye-opener to an even bigger world. A world she is more than a little keen on learning more about day by day. Even reading more about in her downtime.

Growing up, her pets were bees and the blue Merle Shetland Sheepdogs that her aunt brought with her, which grew into a small pack over the years. They became her loyal companions, protecting the farm and the bees from predators. The dogs had an uncanny sense of when Boomer was upset, and they’d often sit by her side, offering comfort with their soft, warm presence. Her father named her first dog, Blue, after her mother’s favourite colour, hoping it would bring some peace to their lives.

Other than beekeeping and pulling things apart. The extracurricular activities she got into before she turned seventeen were gymnastics and ice skating.

Gymnastics was a way to keep her body in tip-top shape, she was always a fast learner and had a knack for acrobatics. The strength and flexibility it gave her were surprisingly useful in the field, allowing her to navigate tight spaces and pull off stunts most wouldn’t dare.

Ice skating, on the other hand, was her escape. The cool rush of the wind against her face, the sound of the blades cutting through the ice, it was her silent battlefield where she faced and conquered her inner demons, pushing herself beyond her limits.

Boomer, at sixteen years old, rescued a nine-month-old blind cat on the way home from school once, her father saw her with it. She was determined to care for the blind cat and named her, Shadow. The cat's full name is Moon Shadow. Naming it after the song Moon Shadow by Cat Stevens.

One of her father’s favourite songs. Thus, it became one of her many favourite songs as well. A classic ‘60s song amongst the many she would listen to on repeat. She listened to it when she got ready for bed, even after he passed months after her 24th birthday.

Her father’s death was a blow she never saw coming. A heart attack in his sleep, the doctor’s said it was peaceful. But for Boomer, it was anything but peaceful.

Her entire world had crumbled around her. The one constant, the one person she had always relied on, was no longer there.

It took a while to mourn her father, taking on many short term to keep herself from going off into the deep end. A distraction to keep her moving, both in mind, body and soul.

The farm remained her sanctuary, but now it was filled with the echoes of her father’s laughter, her aunt’s gentle guidance, and the ever-present hum of the bees.

She continued her military service with renewed vigor, channeling her grief into her work, seeking solace in the structure and discipline it provided.

Most of her dead dad jokes were made to help her cope with her father’s death. If he were around to hear them. He would most likely face palm himself. Followed by an even darker one in return.

“I loved my father. He’s got a darker sense of humour than I did and possibly ever have.” Boomer told her therapist. “I have my pet cats and my dogs. But I live on my own on the farm now.”

The therapist nodded, scribbling something down on her notepad. “How has that been for you?”

“Too quiet. I don’t particularly like the quiet as much as I used to. Maybe it was the fact I had other people around me?” Boomer answered, her voice filled with a tinge of sadness.

The therapist, Dr. Krovic, nodded thoughtfully. “It’s common to feel that way after a loss. The quiet can be deafening when you’re used to the noise of a loving home. Tell me, have you considered getting involved in any social activities? Maybe reconnecting with your mother?”

“If she wanted to, she would have made the effort ages ago.” Boomer replied.

The thought of her mother still brought a bitterness that lingered in the back of her throat. She knew the woman had moved on, living a life of luxury with her aunt’s husband, Marcus. It was a life that didn’t have room for her, not anymore.

52 notes · View notes

cardierreh15 · 8 months

Text

Love You Up Close

***I do not give anyone permission to copy or repost my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Little bit of Angst & Small Mention of Death — other than that — Fluff , Fluff , So much sweetness it’ll make your teeth rot!

Pairing: August Walker x Bianca (Black!OC)

Description: August is tired of Loving his woman from afar.

Song: Car Outside by James Arthur , To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra

Word Count: 2.3K

Side Note: This Head Cannon was inspired by my husband & I. We celebrated our 6 year anniversary on the 15th and I wanted to write something beautiful. ✨🩵🥹

Tags: @headcannonxgalore @milknhonies @augustsprincess

I love you too. I will call you when this is over I promise.

She stared at the final text message he’d sent her. Her throat felt as if a lump was making the attempt to suffocate her all while she felt this great weight on her shoulders.

Bianca knew what her boyfriend August did for a living. She knew it was a dangerous job and his chances of making it out alive somehow grew slimmer with each mission. She couldn’t help but think that this time was it. Someone finally bested him.

She didn’t want to think like that but it had been 3 weeks since they spoke last. The poor girl would answer any unfamiliar number hoping it was him just calling from landline or a pay phone.

Nothing.

Her alarm had spooked her out of her thoughts, causing her to blink back to her current reality. She was sitting at her desk in front of her computer. Bianca worked from home and though she found it very convenient, it sucked when the man she loved wasn’t here with her. It just gave her too much time and too much room to dwell.

She looked at the time, it was 3:10PM. At least she was closer to the end than the beginning… but the time… the time aches her in the most wretched way possible. The closer it was for her to get off, the closer it was for the day ending… another day without him.

As the minute changed, she felt that choking feeling in her throat once again. Her mind felt even heavier and her eyes became a gateway of tears. The more Bianca sobbed, the more heavy her shoulders became. Her chest began to tighten and her breathing became shallow and uneven.

‘August… please.’ She mewed out in pain as she gripped her shirt. ‘I miss you so much… please come back to me.’

***

Bianca started off the next morning on a rather lighter note. She went for a jog and watched the sunrise. Then, she came back in and made herself breakfast and took a shower. She washed and conditioned her hair before brushing it up into a ponytail. Afterwards, she did her skin care and got dressed in something comfortable.

All of these things made her feel better… or so she thought. It just busied her for a little bit because now that she was sitting back in front of her desktop… she was thinking about him again. So she instantly grabbed her phone and searched her photos; finding the many silly and sweet photos they’d shared together.

It stung a little, but the beauty of those pictures outshined the pain she was feeling on the inside. They made her smile.

After a while, she was able to work just fine. Nothing could stop her now!

Peaking out her window, she noticed this big moving truck driving by. She ain’t pay it no mind at first. People move in and out of these townhome apartments all the time. But she did find it a little odd when the driver parked in front of her driveway.

‘What the hell? Oh uh-uh!’

She scrambled up out of her office chair and made her way downstairs in a hurry. She unlocked her front door so fast and damn near pulled it off of the hinges!

‘Hey!’ She rushed down the 3 steps and walked down her driveway, ‘Hey! Can you move your shit from in front of my front door?!’

The driver didn’t say anything, instead the sound of the door in the back of the truck could be heard rolling up.

Their silence built up rage inside of her. ‘Alright! How about I call the police and have you arrested for trespassing?!’ Bianca pulled out her phone and brought up her dial pad. She’d already pressed in the numbers, she’d just had yet to hit the green button.

‘Well why would you wanna call the cops on me?’

That voice. The voice she loved and adored. The voice she would follow in complete darkness.

He crept around the corner and folded his arms across his chest before leaning against the moving truck.

‘Aug-August.’ Her voice was already masked in tears, instantly coming to the conclusion that her mind was simply betraying her. Was she seeing things?

‘BB.’ A small and warm smile curled upward on his lip, causing that dimple to carve into his 5 o’clock shadow.

She’d pressed her hands against her chest, the instinct of catching it just in case it broke. Her eyes erupted in tears. ‘Baby.’ She croaked out.

August pushed his weight off of the truck and rushed over to wrap her up into his arms. ‘Shhh… I’m here baby.’ He rested his chin on top of her head as he gently rubbed her back. ‘I’ve missed you too.’

Bianca wrapped her arms around his neck securely when their bodies collided. She pressed her face flat into his chest, inhaling his soft refreshing scent that clouded all of her senses.

Her man was really here. Finally.

She had pulled her face away to look up at him. The early morning sun had caused this glorious twinkle to shine in his cobalt blue eyes.

He caressed his thumb over her wet cheeks, ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get back to you. I figured you’d prefer to see me anyway.’

Bianca sniffed, ‘You could’ve at least told me you were okay Auggy! I was worried sick about you.’

‘I know… but that’s all going to end. Right now. You won’t have to worry about me ever again pretty soon.’

Her brows tugged into one as she sniffed, ‘What are you talking about?’ Then she glanced at the moving truck, ‘What is this about August?’

August looked back at the truck once and then looked down at her once again.

‘Bianca, I’m tired. I’m tired of spending weeks without speaking to you. I’m tired of going months without waking up next to you. I’m tired of us trying to see one another… we don’t have to live like that. Like this. I want to be able to come home every night and kiss you and tell you about my day. I want to be able to touch you when I want. I’m sick of being without you, BB.’

‘Wh-‘ The heaviness that sat on Bianca’s shoulders had somewhat subsided. But that tightening still had her chest strung up. ‘What are you saying?!’

August let out a gentle sigh, ‘Bianca, I want you to come back with me… I want you to come home.’

Bianca blinked once at his words. ‘You want— you want me to do what?!’

‘I want you to move back to Washington with me. Look, I know it’s sudden… I know it may seem crazy but I want this…don’t you?!’

She did. But she also had a life here in Georgia too.

‘August, I just can't get up and drop everything like that. What about my lease?! My family?’

‘Bi, I will break the lease, you know that’s not a problem for me… And I talked to your parents… they—‘ he paused, feeling a great deal of nervousness sit upon his own shoulders now. ‘They gave me their blessing…’

Her brows tugged into one. Never had a man have to ask a woman’s parents for their blessing to move in with their daughter.

‘Oh lord, August. You just gave them all the opportunity to be up in our business!’ She placed her hand on her forehead.

‘That’s not what I mean…’ he paused as he took her left hand into his.

Bianca’s face was ridden with confusion until he grabbed her hand in the softest touch. A touch no man had ever given her. ‘August— what are you doing?’ Her heart began to beat so fast.

‘Doing what I should’ve done a long time ago. Please.’

August reached in his pocket, pulling out a small black box before slowly descending on his knee.

Bianca breathed in sharply before she whipped her head around, searching for a camera crew to come out and tell her she was being punk’d or something. But nobody… only a few people standing around in front of their houses watching the beautiful and intimate moment unfold before their very eyes.

‘I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I laid eyes on you. It was easy… My career, it was easy to just leave and not have to worry about someone or not answer to someone. I could’ve died and not a single soul would’ve cared. But when we got together, all of that changed. Every time I had to leave you… I died more and more inside. I don’t want to live like that anymore. I don’t wanna live without you. You’re my sunshine, Bi-Bi. My lifeline.’ He’d opened the small black box, revealing a beautiful diamond ring.

‘Oh—‘ she became a sobbing mess, covering her mouth as she tried to muffle the sounds.

‘Please… Marry Me and I promise you’d never have to be another day without me.’ His eyes glossed over with tears, fear written each crevice and pattern.

Bianca wiped her drippy nose with the wrist of her sweater and sniffed. She paused for a second before a laugh escaped her lips.

‘Yes. Yes! I will marry you!’

The air that August held on so tightly in his chest had finally been set free in relief. ‘Oh thank God!’ He chuckled as he pulled the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger.

Standing to his feet, he wrapped his arms around her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He spun her around joyfully as they erupted with laughter. They could hear cheering and whistling from nearby neighbors.

Placing her back on her feet, he grinned, ‘Does this mean you’ll be moving to DC with me after all?’ His head fell to the side.

Bianca giggled as she placed her hands on his chest, ‘I guess so.’

‘Good.’ August said softly as he leaned down to meet her in a blissful kiss. A kiss that they’d both longed for what had seemed like centuries. But none of that mattered anymore. They no longer needed to worry about the past, what their future had in store for them.

***

8 years later…

August now worked for the FBI simply pushing paperwork. Since being married and having a family, he realized how much he enjoyed living. So he gave up the life of danger and what ifs. And opted for something more mundane and simple.

Bianca picked a career she loved ever since she was a little girl. She taught History/Social Studies for 2nd grade at the local elementary school.

They also shared 2 beautiful daughters. Sarah who was 6 years old and Lucía who’d just turned 3 in the recent month.

This was the life they deserved.

Bianca had just finished up with dinner. It was now time to announce to her family that it was time to pack up the pool for the day.

August was body slamming the girls in the pool, making dramatic crashing sounds with his mouth as they squealed for dear life! Though it looked a little rough to Bianca, the girls were laughing so they were having more than a good time.

But moms always had to ruin the fun.

‘August!’

He stopped, holding little Lucía upside down by her ankle and Sarah on his back. ‘What?’

‘You don’t think you’re playing a little rough with the girls?’ She asked with a sly smirk curled up on her lips.

He paused and looked at Lucía who was giggling and flaying her tiny arms around. Then he looked over his shoulder at Sarah who was still trying her damndest to climb on top of his shoulder.

‘You mean they’re playing rough with me.’ He snickered as he flipped Lucía the right way up.

‘Of course you’d say that. Come on inside, dinner is ready.’

‘Awww mooom!’ Sarah whined out and swam over to the edge of the pool. ‘Just a little bit longer?’

‘Peeeasss mommy?!’ Lucía begged, pouting out her bottom lip and batting those thick lashes.

They were so beautiful. Both sporting brown untamed curls. Sarah had her father’s blue eyes with that blotch of hazel in it while Lucía had brown eyes and was every spitting image of her mother. They both made up both of their parents very nicely. They were absolutely perfect.

‘I’m afraid not girls. Look, we can come back out tomorrow when daddy get off of work alright?’

‘Awww man.’ Lucía groaned as they swam to the steps and stepped out of the pool.

‘Hey it’s whatever mama says, girls. Pool water ain’t gonna disappear and it will be hot enough to bring y'all back out for another swim tomorrow.’ He added on as he followed the girls out the pool.

Mom and Dad got them wrapped up in towels and began to dry them off so they didn’t track the water into the house.

‘Go upstairs and get ready for a bath, girls.’

‘Yes sir!’ They said in sync and left their parents poolside.

Bianca smiled up at him as she snatched his beach towel off the table and began to dry out his hair. Then she handed it off to him. And there she was, staring at him as if it were the very first time she’s ever seen him.

August did his best to dry himself off but eventually just wrapped his towel around his waist. He looked up to see her staring at him and a bright pink hue burned his cheeks.

‘What?’

‘Nothing just… we really did get our happily ever after huh?’

August smiled warmly, grabbing her hand and placing a kiss against her knuckles.

‘Y’know… I think we did.’

#henry cavill #august walker #august Walker x black!oc #August Walker x black!female oc #August Walker x black!plus size female #August Walker x black!plus size female oc #Henry Cavill x black!female oc #Henry Cavill x black!oc #henry Cavill x black!female

91 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months

Note

AITA for trying to reconnect with someone I ghosted, possibly violating their boundaries in the process?

Disclaimer- This is a long and complicated story bc the context of the ghosting is important to the conflict, everyone involved are all in their early 20s, nobody in this story is a saint.

I was once part of a D&D group with my friends Alice (IRL best friend), Bob (IRL friend, DM), Chris (Online friend) and Fran (Online acquaintance). A couple sessions into our campaign, a couple of players were removed, and my IRL friend Gary joined to fill the gap they left, which everyone was okay with at the time. Gary and the group had a bit of a culture clash for a while, as the group all grew up on Tumblr and were pretty typical fandom Tumblrinas, whereas Gary was more used to Reddit and Youtube's culture and was just pretty offline in general, so we often had to learn each other's memes and references. Because Gary was my friend, I often took the role of "translator" for him, because I'd had more exposure to his jokes and enjoyed explaining them if people didn't get them, and liked translating the group's jokes back to him for the same reason. We found out later that Gary also liked to play D&D differently than the group did - we used it to provide structure to our RP, so our characters were built based on what sounded cool or fit the OC, rather than what necessarily was the best idea mechanically. His characters, on the other hand, had some RP ideas behind them, but they were primarily built for good mechanics, with a class and feats that suited their stats, so they were really good at combat and skill rolls. We didn't find this out until later, because when he first joined the campaign, he played a character that was really poorly built because it was a character that had been built FOR him by the DM of a different campaign, and they were BAD at it.

Some time passes, and it becomes pretty clear to both me and Gary that Gary's character is just not being engaged in RP as much as everyone else's. I tried to help him get more involved, thinking that we just needed to work his character into the plot a bit, and when that consistently didn't work, he contented himself with at least being pretty good at the combat part of the game. However, Bob eventually realized that he'd been misreading a rule (that Gary had been taking advantage of to BE so good at combat), and Gary's character was nerfed so hard by the way the rule was MEANT to be interpreted that he became borderline useless during combat. Fed up at this point, Gary decided to work with Bob to kill off his character and make a new one that he'd build himself. I helped him brainstorm ideas for this new character to help him make one that meshed better with the group's RP, and he made the character better mechanically to avoid being useless in combat like the last character was.

Unfortunately, this character was just as ignored in RP as his last one was. And she was so tightly optimized that whenever Gary made a roll with her, he got a success, or at least only a very mild failure...to the point that one day, after several sessions of this, Alice, Bob, and Chris got Gary and I in a Discord call and accused Gary of lying about his dice rolls. He was ruining the game for them so much, Alice said, that they wanted him out of the campaign entirely. The thing is...I sat next to him for every single session. I knew for a fact that he wasn't lying about his rolls because I saw every one of them. And after all the work we both put into trying to get him involved in the group's dynamic and their game, it felt wildly unfair to get him booted without at least giving him a chance. I tried to explain this, and even tried suggesting that he made his dice rolls public to the whole group (via roll20, which we were using for our combat maps anyway) so he COULDN'T cheat, but instead I was kicked from the call. After that, he left the group on his own, not wanting to argue anymore.

Here's where it gets complicated. This incident reminded me of the circumstances around the players that left at the beginning of the campaign, before Gary joined. They were online friends of Alice and Chris's at first, but turned out to not be the nicest people, and often didn't mesh well with the group. Problem is, Alice and Chris both have anxiety and were very conflict avoidant, and these two hadn't actually done anything WRONG aside from make people uncomfortable with rudeness from time to time. So Alice and Chris and I used to vent to each other about them in private, and stay polite in public while avoiding them as much as we could, and at Alice's request, we also kept an eye out for some bit of misbehavior that we could point at as a good enough reason to kick them out without feeling bad. We eventually found it, and out they went. Fran was IRL friends with one of these people, though, and for a while afterwards, despite very much NOT wanting to talk about the two people that weren't in the campaign anymore, or anything about the circumstances of kicking them out, Alice would still comment on how Fran seemed uninterested in the game to us in private, and how maybe she should just leave too...she only stopped when Bob told her to knock it off.

The culture mismatch between Gary and the group, the polite detachedness towards Gary's characters, the suddency of him getting kicked, and the complete return to normal the day after was similar enough that it made me suspect that Alice had pushed everyone to kick Gary out just like she had with those two, and my closeness with Gary made me worried that I'd be treated with suspicion the same way Fran was for a while...and that if I tried talking to them about what happened, I'd end up causing another big argument and getting kicked too. I was too attached to my character and the RP for that, and Gary didn't want me arguing for him anymore, so I just...kept my mouth shut and carried on, trying not to let it bother me. It still REALLY bothered me, though, and it soured my feelings towards my friends enough that after the campaign ended, I let them know I no longer had time for D&D, and left the server amicably...and also quietly left every other group I was in with them. I didn't block anyone, but I still effectively ghosted them.

After a year away from them and a lot of therapy to work through my feelings on the situation, though, I realized I missed them a lot, and that ghosting them like that over my own speculation about what happened with Gary was an AH move. So with some encouragement from Gary, who understood why I felt that way but had never wanted me to lose my friends like that, I messaged Alice to see if I could meet up with her IRL again so we could reconnect. She said we could, but with a condition: she never wanted me to even mention Gary in conversation. Considering I mostly wanted to meet up so I could talk to her about what happened a year ago so we could apologize to each other and get a fresh start...that didn't seem like it was gonna go well. So I said "sorry, can't do that, so I'll go ahead and leave you be, but my DMs are always open if you change your mind", and that was that.

At this point, seeing how Alice reacted to the very IDEA of Gary coming up in conversation, I began to worry about Chris. Gary and I had messaged Chris on and off several months after I left, though we hadn't done much more than send her a couple links to art resources we thought she'd like, or memes that were up her alley. She replied like normal to us at the time, but now I was worried that we'd put her in an awkward position with Alice by talking to her, so I messaged her next to tell her what happened with Alice and see if she wanted us to cut contact with her as well. I was still hurting from what happened with Alice, though, so when Chris asked me why I left the group to begin with...I told her everything I was going to tell Alice IRL. My full speculation over what happened with Gary, how it made me feel, how I felt like I couldn't talk about it without reprisal, and how I came back anyway because I realized I did the wrong thing and wanted Alice and I to talk things out right, get closure, and move on...and how I felt like I STILL couldn't, because of what Alice had asked of me.

Chris didn't take it well. Maybe I worded things poorly, but she reacted like she thought I was still blaming Alice for everything that happened, and that I'd dropped Alice and the group the instant I thought Alice was mean to me, because I was a bad friend. She claimed that I'd disrespected Alice's boundaries by not agreeing to them and choosing to leave her alone instead, and that with how much of an AH I was, we all clearly had never been real friends in the first place. I tried again to explain how she'd gotten that wrong, that I was trying to reconnect because I knew I'd treated Alice unfairly, but she didn't want to hear it, claiming that I was just contradicting myself to try and get her sympathy at this point. I gave up after that and just agreed to quit talking to her, at which point she blocked me.

It's been a few months since then, and I'm still hurt over it. I know I was an ass for leaving the way I did, but...Was I the asshole for trying to reconnect when I realized I was wrong? Did I really violate Alice's boundaries?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

71 notes · View notes

moonthecreator · 15 days

Text

Working on a TFP Soundwave fic

Hi I'm super new to the Transformers fandom, but since at least THREE show series are available for free on Youtube, I watched a great bit at my previous mindless job.

Personally, thinking there's not enough Soundwave x OC fics out there, so i have a rough doc. It's by no mean's done, and has the roughest outline possible.

I would love the opinions and thoughts of peeps who have been in this fandom longer than me! Whether its by a decade or by a week. Please feel free to reach out to me and ask for a link to the doc.

Okay Here's the premise:

"Disguise has always been a key component of Transformer operations on other worlds. Pretenders attempt to take this concept to the next level. Pretenders are Transformers fitted with special external armor shells that can disguise their very nature as robots. Rather than hiding themselves as the machinery or vehicles of a world, Pretender Shells allow a robot to take on the appearance of a native life form itself." -TFWiki

28-year-old Jane Axelrod's life has always been an interesting one: From being born from a wish on a shooting star, to being virtually invincible, to being completely mute. But nothing could have prepared her for encountering giant battling robots in the Nevada desert, or playing keep away with a bunch of teens in her truck. Things only get weirder when she encounters a purple alien titan, who reveals to Jane her true nature as a Pretender, built to take on the form of native lifeforms.

Existential/Identity crisis aside, Jane is abducted into the politics and strife of a dead world she has no memory of. Things only get messier when her human twin sister involves the Autobots to aid in her rescue from Decepticon clutches, and MECH catches the scent of a new lab rat to even the playing field.

Despite it all, there's More Than Meets the Eye to both Jane and her primary captor, Soundwave. And maybe within their strange budding relationship lies the answers to an end to a millennia of war.

#transformers #transformers prime #transformers oc #transformers pretender #tfp #tfp soundwave #soundwave #transformers original character #oc #fanart #radio silence #speak no evil #havent decided on the title yet #Im very excited though #mute oc #asl #soundwave x oc #soundwave x original character

14 notes · View notes

pnkrathian · 5 months

Text

The Robo Lucky AU Summary/Masterpost!

I’ve said bits and pieces about this AU before, but I don’t ever think I’ve posted a more comprehensive summary of it here. I wasn’t able to get into EVERY single part of his story because I wanted to keep this relatively short, but this will give the gist of things.

Robo Lucky is the star character of an AU of mine for the video game Mother 3. Currently, he’s my most beloved OC, and my most beloved AU. I’ve split it into three “Acts”.

Act 1

Lucky was created by Porky, dictator of the Nowhere Islands, as a replacement for the real Lucky, Duster’s alter ego, in the world’s most popular band, the DCMC, because of his choice to leave. Robo Lucky’s original form was made to be identical to that of the real Lucky, with the exception of faint robotic seam lines on his face, joints, and other key articulation points on the body that are only noticeable if you happen to look close enough.

His purpose was to watch over the rest of the DCMC in order to keep them in-line, to spread pro-Porky propaganda to the DCMC’s fans, and to eliminate Duster as quickly as possible before the general public could notice anything was up. He is very skilled at mimicking the personality and mannerisms of the real Lucky when he needs to, but his real self comes through when he’s ready to attack. In reality, his personality is completely different from Duster’s. He’s chaotic, he’s irrational, he’s emotional, and he can be more than a bit sadistic. Even though he’s a robot, he actually feels and can show just as much emotion as a human can, and he is fully sentient, unlike some of Porky’s other robots.

When he chooses to attack, you’ll never see him use his legs like Duster does, but you’ll see him use a variety of gadgets coming from inside his robot body instead. Things like saw blades or tasers replacing his hands, flamethrowers and guns coming from his mouth, or a jetpack coming from his back. In all honesty, if you can think of a weird robotic gadget or weapon he could have, he probably has it. He’s meant to be both a very silly and very scary character, to have those horror elements without sacrificing a sense of the Mother series-type humor. He can be a true horror villain at times, but other times, he’s the kind of villain who will sing a catchy song as he tries to stab someone. He’ll almost always be showy or flashy when he has a chance to be. (Although I don’t officially ship him romantically with Duster, he miiiight give Duster a lil homoerotic pin against the wall as well as other similar stuff. As a treat. :3)

As Robo Lucky spends countless times trying to eliminate Duster and his other party members (except for Boney, because in his words: “Who would kill a fucking dog? I have at least SOME standards, asshole!”) and failing, only to be rebuilt stronger but then to fail again, his desire to kill Duster shifts from following his orders to true jealousy and hatred. He begins to resent Duster for being stronger than him even though he was built to be an incredibly powerful killing machine, he resents him for having his friends while he’s still feared, and he resents the fact that he was built to look like him, and therefore he blames his miserable existence on him instead of the scientists who built him.

I cannot stress enough that he is not Duster but “evil”, but a completely different guy who has been forced into a Duster body and forced to pretend to be him, manipulated to believe that eliminating Duster and replacing him is the only way he can achieve happiness, or even a right to exist in the world.

Duster is finally able to “tame” Robo Lucky during their final fight, which happens right after the final DCMC performance in the Empire Pork Building. After fighting with the last of his power, he is finally defeated when Duster is able to kick his head clean off his body. This does not kill him, as he is a robot, but Duster pities him, so instead of destroying him, he takes him, which eventually leads him to follow everyone else into the next world after the final needle is pulled by Lucas.

Act 2

For the next ~2-3 years, Robo Lucky lives as a talking head with Duster and the rest of the DCMC. Now, he’s completely powerless, with none of the gadgets inside his body to help him. He no longer even has his wig, his head is now bare, leaving the clear head casing showcasing his main internal processor underneath. At first, leaving him as a head was a punishment of sorts, to get him to think about the damage he had caused. But gradually, although not without struggle, he realizes that Duster and the others are beginning to care about him, and they are trying to show him that he doesn’t have to go down the path of violence or hatred, that there can be good things in life, that there are people out there who care about him, and that despite his purpose for being built, there is good in his heart, and he can choose to show it and he can chose to figure out who he really is. Eventually, it leads into a whole redemption arc for him where he becomes almost like family to Duster and the others, and eventually, once the others are able to trust him enough, he is able to get a new body built for himself. In addition, Duster also grapples with the fact that even though he did it in self defense, he had taken almost all of Lucky’s physical autonomy away, and begins to feel deeply guilty for his actions. After they both realize the gravity of what they had done to each other, and both regret it, they come to an agreement. When they’re both comfortable enough with each other to be vulnerable, Lucky tells him that he thinks the two of them should be “even” now. Duster suggests that the two of them should start over; to try to move forward, to see each other as people, as equals, as friends. They realize that all the fighting and competition between the two has caused both of them nothing but suffering, and yes, they absolutely have the capacity to get along, against all odds.

Act 3

Robo Lucky was able to design his new body himself, with help from the scientists still left, of course. During his time as a head, he’s learned that replacing Duster isn’t truly what he wants, but instead, he wants a chance to figure out who he really is as an individual.

When he gets his body, he still looks a bit similar to Duster, to avoid having to make him a completely new head, but with a nose that is more pointy than hooked downward; longer, fuller, curlier hair; bigger, brighter, eyes; a softer, younger-looking, less angular face; and facial hair that is thinner above the lips and fuller below them. His body shape is a little more lean and top-heavy than Duster’s (For context, my version of Duster’s body is a bit more on the chubby, pear-shaped side), and he is a bit shorter. In addition, he also takes care of his hygiene better than Duster usually does.

Now, Robo Lucky still does have some of his old personality; he still can be emotional, dramatic, a bit chaotic, and (for lack of a better word) still a bit of a dickhead or a little shit sometimes, he now is also passionate, energetic, goofy, VERY affectionate, and overall, happier than he’s ever been. He now takes joy in entertaining people for what he can do himself, and he has taken quite a liking to singing (and he’s really good at it, too!). Duster has even abandoned the use of “Lucky” as a stage name for himself, choosing to use his real name to the public. Therefore, “Robo Lucky” is free to become the one and only Lucky. According to Duster, it was his name all along.

Of course, Lucky still is far from perfect, but compared to before, he has come miles and miles ahead in self- improvement, and has finally been able to live his life as his true self.

I do have a lot of art from all three Acts that I will post! However, most of the art I do nowadays revolves around Act 3, with Lucky in his true body, figuring himself out and interacting with the other characters around him, mostly Duster. Eventually, he and Duster not only become best friends, but they develop a sort of queerplatonic-type relationship. It's not exactly clearly defined, because having a relationship with a robot who isn't you but was made to look like you but now doesn’t look like you… is definitely not a thing that happens often.

I even do other art and stories with Lucky that goes beyond the realm of Act 3, exploring his extended life after Duster and the other characters he started out with pass on. My ideal personal version of Mother 4 even piggybacks off this AU instead of canon, because honestly, it’s canon in my heart. I plan to write more about it here later, but long story short, it involves Lucky living in a new world, meeting new companions along the way, including *gasp*... a lover?

Pre-redemption/pre-new body Robo Lucky goes by he/him, but post-redemption Lucky goes by both he/him and also sometimes she/her!

#yay!!! Robo lucky post indeed #robo lucky #Robo lucky au #mother 3 #mother series #duster mother 3 #duster #mother 3 au #mother 3 oc #mother series au #mother series oc #summary #oc #oc lore

23 notes · View notes

uconnposter01 · 4 months

Text

Falling

Chapter 1

Azzi x black oc

3.K words

warning: cursing

August 2021 3rd person pov

“Fuck,fuck fuck” Nuveah mutters as she jumps up in a panic.

She couldn't believe that she slept through her alarm. She was late for her first class on the very first day. Grabbing her essential things Nuveah slipped on a pair of black Adidas joggers, a white shirt and a pair of black Crocs Nuveah ran out of her dorm room to the lecture hall, thankfully it was only a five minute run. All eyes turned to look at Nuveah as she burst inside of the lecture hall ten minutes late.

“I’m sorry Mrs Flanagan I slept through my alarm, it uh- won't happen again” Nuveah says trying to catch her breath.

“Name?” The professor questions unamused.

Every year there is at least one student who ends up late to her class so this is no shock, she just hopes this won’t be an everyday thing.

“Nuveah Sanchez '' Nuveah mutters quietly.

She felt embarrassed, especially with everyone staring at her. Nuveah honestly wishes the floor would swallow her right now.

“Find a seat” Profesor Flanagan answers dismissively.

Nuveah’s eyes scanned the lecture hall looking for an empty seat in a room with at least 50 other people, It’s intense. It made Nuveah’s heartbeat fast and her hands clammy.

“Today Ms. Sanchez '' Professor Flanagan says impatiently.

“Sorry” Nuveah says softly, sighing.

Noticing an empty seat towards the back of the lecture hall sat a brown skinned girl with glasses, and curly hair whose hair is in a high bun. The girl is beautiful, the slight smile on her looks welcoming and inviting. Taking a chance Nuveah decides to make her way over there to sit next to the girl. It's a win-win situation in Nuveah's mind. The girl looked very familiar to Nuveah but she can't remember where at the moment she's too anxious to really focus on her surroundings or faces.

Azzi notices the girl walking towards her direction and her breath hitches in her throat as Nuveah walks towards her, she is absolutely gorgeous.

“Can I sit here?” Nuveah mumbles quietly.

“Yeah of course,” Azzi says, looking away trying to hide her blush.

Looking at the girl up and down Azzi couldn't help to get very intimated. In Azzi's opinion she thinks she's the most beautiful girl she's ever seen. Her hair is black with green highlights and it's straightened. It kinda reminds Azzi of Shego’s from Kim Possible. Her eyes are almond shaped and the lightest shade of brown and that color just became Azzi’s favorite color. She’s well built, She has to play some kind of sport or go to the gym often. Maybe if Azzi played her cards right she could get her number and become her gym buddy and maybe something more.

Nuveah is trying her hardest not to stare at the light skinned girl next to her, but it's so hard she's so beautiful and Nuveah is way too anxious and intimated to ever say a word to her hell it took everything in Nuveah to ask her to sit next to her. The two girls stole glances at each other whenever the other wasn't looking, both of them not listening to the lecture being presented.

After catching Nuveah look at her one too many times Azzi decides to take charge and speak to the girl.

“Nuveah right?” Azzi asks quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone else.

“Yeah,” Nuveah mumbles, not trusting her voice.

“Azzi” The shooting guard responds,holding out her hand for Nuveah to shake.

Nuveah apprehensively shakes Azzi's hand worried that her hand is way too sweaty. Neither girl let's go for a minute feeling the spark of energy that flowed through them. After a minute of shaking hands and smiling like idiots, Azzi pulls her hand away. Realization hits Nuveah like a ton of bricks after realizing who is sitting next to her.

“Azzi Fudd” Nuveah blurts out staring at the girl next to her.

“Yeah,” Azzi replies, laughing slightly.

“Imma fan,I'm sorry I didn't recognize you, Also P talks about you a whole fucking lot” Nuveah rambles slightly. Azzi frowned upon hearing Paige’s nickname,she knows how Paige gets down and she prays that Paige isn't dealing with this girl.

“Are you close with Paige?” Azzi questions quietly.

“Yeah, we hang out almost everyday,” Nuveah reveals quietly.

Hearing the piece of information made Azzi feel annoyed and jealous, Azzi rarely felt jealous so she feels a little ridiculous being jealous over Paige being friends or maybe when more with Nuveah especially since she just met her.

“Hmm okay” Azzi says, pursing her lips and looking back towards the professor.

Confused, Nuveah keeps glancing back at Azzi wondering if she said something wrong to the girl. After the professor ends class Nuveah bolts out of the lecture hall without another word. Her social battery has run out and she doesn't want to be stuck in a conversation with anyone, except for Azzi she's the only exception in Nuveah’s eyes . But she feels as though she said something to make the girl not want to be bothered with her, she needs to talk with her sister to figure out what she did wrong.

Azzi frowns, noticing Nuveah sprint out of the lecture hall she wanted to get her number or social media or something. But she guesses it's for the best especially if she's messing with Paige. Walking into her shared apartment with Amari, Azzi notices most of the team is there and she flops down on the couch and dramatically sighs.

What’s up?” Amari questions noticing Azzi being dramatic

“I met the finest girl today” Azzi says while looking up at the ceiling.

“Ooh okay, I see you Az, did you get her number?” Amari questions smiling at her friend.

“No, and I think she's fucking Paige” Azzi pouts while putting her head in her hands.

“Wait who is Paige fucking now?” Aubrey asks only catching the last part of Azzi's sentence.

“Her name is Nuveah, and she's sooooo fine, but she said she hangs out with Paige and from how quiet she got when talking about and how she wouldn't look me in the eye I know they have to fucking” Azzi complains.

“Nuveah who?” Aubrey asks, sitting down on the couch next to Azzi. If it's the Nuveah that Aubrey is thinking then Azzi has nothing to worry about.

“Sanchez I think,she came in late today in class and she sat right next to me and omg she was so beautiful, oh my God I think I'm in love already” Azzi excitedly explains her hand over her heart as she does so.

“Wait short, brown skinned, light eyes, curly hair, strong as fuck Nuveah?” Aubrey questions once more.

“Her hair was straight but everything else is right,” Azzi says, raising her eyebrow. Aubrey burst out laughing after Azzi confirmed her suspicions, she could see why Azzi would misinterpret Nuveah saying she hangs out with Paige as they were messing around.

“Stop laughing at me” Azzi mumbles growing increasingly annoyed with the girl.

“My bad, Paige and Nu-Nu aren't fucking they are homies, you ain’t got nothing to worry about” Aubrey says flashing a Azzi a smile reassuring smile. Hearing that Azzi stopped being annoyed and the frown on her face turned into a smile knowing that she still had a shot with the girl.

“Did you get her number?” Amari questions. Azzi’s smile instantly fades, being reminded that she didn't get the girl’s number,Azzi is determined to get it in the next class.

“No, but we have class again on Wednesday. I'll get it then,” Azzi says, hopeful and ready for when she sees Nuveah again.

Meanwhile Nuveah frantically pounded on her sister's dorm. Her sister’s roommate and fellow gymnast Jazmine opens the door with an attitude.

“Nuveah stop banging on the fucking door” Jazmine says as she swings open the door annoyed with Nuveah.

“Is Aniyah here?” Nuveah asks, ignoring Jazmine’s attitude.

Nuveah can’t stand the light skinned girl standing in front of her, she's bougie, judgmental, entitled and always has a shitty attitude. She was so mad when she found out she was Aniyah’s roommate whenever Jazmine is around Nuveah knows she’s gonna have a terrible time.

“She lives here right?” Jazmine asks Nuveah, rolling her eyes.

Nuveah's eyes narrowed and bit her tongue as she counted in her head from 50, she didn't want to disappoint her sister and break the promise she made to her sister to not argue with Jazmine.

“Can I come in, I need to talk to her bout some shit” Nuveah grumbles, looking at the ground ignoring Jazmine’s previous statement.

Jazmine rolls her eyes and opens the door wider letting the girl in the dorm room. Nuveah walks past Jazmine and the gymnast looks her up and down as she walks by which makes Nuveah feel a little self conscious.

“MoMo you dressed?” Nuveah questions walking inside of her sister's room.

“It don't matter bitch,you already in here” Aniyah says, pausing her TV show.

“Stop bitching” Nuveah says kissing her teeth

“What do you need, Pook?” Aniyah asks, whining as she does so.

“I met Azzi Fudd in class today , and I fucked up I need to know if I did something wrong” Nuveah stresses.

“Not you immediately fumbling a baddie” Aniyah teases, laughing slightly.

“Girl fuck you, can I tell you what happened or not”? Nuveah asks, growing annoyed with Aniyah.

“Go ahead Pook”Aniyah says, rolling her eyes.

“I was late to class, I sat next to Azzi and we talked for a little bit. I mentioned being friends with Paige. She then got quiet for the rest of class,” Nuveah explains.

“I mean y'all were in class, maybe she just wanted to pay attention” Aniyah says shrugging.

“Maybe,but she asked me if I hang out with Paige and when I said yeah a lot she stopped talking” Nuveah responds.

The way Azzi just turned away from her and stopped talking to her earlier really has her anxious. She swears she said something wrong, but if Aniyah says she didn't, she’ll believe it; she has way better judgment and social skills than her.

“Did you get her number Pook?” Aniyah questions softly.

Depending on her answer Aniyah can stop Nuveah from having a panic attack right now even if she didn't get the shooting guard’s number Aniyah has a back up plan that too also.

“No, I was overstimulated after class so I just got up and ran here, I fumbled, didn't I ?” Nuveah mumbles looking down at the floor.

“No Pook you didn't, just try to get her number next class” Aniyah says softly.

“Thank you MoMo,I genuinely don't know what I would do without” Nuveah says hugging Aniyah.

“That’s cute and I but I need to rant, are y'all done yet?”Jazmine questions looking down at her nails.

“Yeah, do you want me to leave or stay?” Nuveah asks, letting go of Aniyah and avoiding looking at Jazmine.

“I don't care, I just wanna talk about my sneaky link” Jazmine says flopping down on the bed.

“Girl, this is a twin sized bed, what are you doing?” Nuveah complains about the lack of space.

“If you have an issue, sit on the floor,” Jazmine huffs, rolling her eyes once more at the girl. She couldn't stand Nuveah, she always had something smart to say, she likes Aniyah though so she tried to not to argue with the girl. Nuveah immediately drops to the floor not wanting to be that close to Jazmine.

“Anyway, my sneaky link fucked me in the back of her car and, but this time we were outside her dorm building so anyone could've saw, I think I'm one step closer to meeting her teammates and roommates” Jazmine explains excitement etched on her face.

“That’s good boo,you still didn’t tell me what team she plays on” Aniyah says smiling. She didn't want to tell the girl that she sounds utterly insane, knowing Jazmine she probably wouldn't listen anyway.

“You sound delusional as fuck bro” Nuveah deadpans. She refused to lie to the girl like Aniyah does,she won't be feeding into Jazmine’s delusions any time soon.

“And you sound like a hating ass bitch” Jazmine snaps. She hates Nuveah’s attitude,she’s always negative and brings down the vibes in Jazmine’s opinion.

“Your mom is white isn't she” Nuveah states.

Aniyah sends a sharp look in Nuveah’s direction, with her sister’s lack of a filter and Jazmine’s smart mouth she can see Jazmine and Nuveah getting into a verbal altercation way sooner than later and she will be in the middle of it.

“What it was just a question” Nuveah says trying to hold in her laughter.

“I mean yeah,but what does that have to do with anything?” Jazmine questions her eyes, narrowing at Nuveah.

“Nothing continue,” Nuveah says, smirking.

“What team does she play on?” Aniyah questions once more.

“If I told you she wouldn't be a sneaky link, but we need to get you a boo, you see anyone here that you are attracted to” Jazmine asks.

“I mean not really, I've only been here for like a week but Paige Bueckers is cute as fuck” Aniyah says, her nose scrunching in the process.

“Mhm, don't go for her,” Jazmine says dismissively, waving her hand.

“Why?” Aniyah questions curiosity etched all over her face.

“She's a player, you're gonna get your heart broken, she's just not a good person to try to pursue something with” Jazmine dismisses once more.

“I mean it's not like I'm looking for some serious shit”Aniyah replies shrugging.

“Girl,just trust me she has a big ass roster she’s fucked more than half of the school,you don't wanna deal with that shit, get her outta your pretty little mind” Jazmine said tapping Aniyah's forehead lightly.

“How do you know?” Nuveah questions not liking that Jazmine is dragging her friend’s name through dirt.

“My friend sometimes deals with her” Jazmine dismisses, cutting her eyes over at Nuveah.

“What friend?” Nuveah questions one of her eyebrows raised.

“ Damn, You nosy as fuck”Jazmines complains looking over at Aniyah so she could to tell her sister to stop.

“I just don’t appreciate you lying on my friend like that, does she have a couple of girls she sleep with yes, but is she out here fucking half of school no” Nuveah says her nose flaring slightly.

“Since when have you been friends with Paige”? Jazmine questions her eyebrows raising in curiosity.

“And you said I was nosy” Nuveah responds laughing

“Answer the goddamn question Nuveah no one has time for your shit you always want to play around this is exactly why no one likes you” Jazmine says snapping at Nuveah.

“Since last year if you must know, I'm gonna head out though MoMo I'll see you later”Nuveah grumbled as she left the room.

“That wasn’t cool,when she calms down you owe her an apology” Aniyah says.

Nuveah doesn’t hear Jazmine’s response, but she's sure she's defending herself. Slamming the door on her way out, Nuveah makes her way to her dorm apartment, fuming. She wishes her sister had roomed with someone other than Jazmine. She's unsure if she could put up with her the entire school year; she will make Aniyah come to her place.

“Woah, what crawled up in your ass and died,” Nuveah’s best friend and roommate, Gia, asks after Nuveah slams the front door shut.

“Nothing I'm going in my room” Nuveah grumbles.

“Alright dude I'm here if you need me” Gia said knowing by the tone of her voice that Nuveah needs to be alone.

Flopping onto her bed, Nuveah’s thoughts are filled with Azzi and Jazmine. Eventually, as Nuveah calms down, her thoughts only contain Azzi. Wednesday couldn't come fast enough. Nuveah decides it's best to leave a note with her socials on it, knowing she won't be confident to ask the girl for hers. After gaming and watching TV, Nuveah finally lays down, hoping Tuesday would go by fast so she can see Azzi. After her nightly routine, Azzi lies in bed, slowly falling asleep. Nuveah is on her mind as she does so. Her dream is filled with Nuveah and the future she wishes she could have with her. Tuesday is a blur for both girls as they have practice and classes to keep their minds occupied.

Azzi woke up around 7 am, made her a protein shake, and carefully spent an hour and a half getting showered and dressed.

“I thought you said you had class” Paige states to the girl who is currently spraying perfume on herself.

“I do,” Azzi said, checking her outfit out in the mirror. “Then why are dressed like that?'' Paige questions, confused as to why she was wearing a white crop top and short shorts and sandals.

“I just want to,”Azzi replies, checking herself out one last time. Walking into the lecture hall Azzi sees Nuveah is already there saving a seat she assumes for her, it makes Azzi’s heart swell with pride.

“Hey” Nuveah says, removing her backpack from the seat next to her. She couldn't help but check Azzi,she looked so good Nuveah would be stupid not to catch a quick glance or two.

“Hey” Azzi responds with a smile gracing her features.

“How’d you sleep?” Nuveah questions.

“Good,you?” Azzi asks politely.

“Pretty good,” Nuveah responds. The duo are quiet for the rest of the class,and sure enough when class is dismissed Nuveah once again bolts out of class before Azzi can say a word to her. But this time left in her place is a piece of paper with her Instagram and finsta on it.

A short while later Nuveah receives a notification that almost causes her to scream in Gia’s ear

Azzi35 started following you

WhoisAzzi started following you

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

Hey, this is my first time posting a story on Tumblr

criticism is more than welcomed

I hope y'all have a good day

#azzi fudd x reader #azzi fudd

53 notes · View notes

kimberlyannharts · 28 days

Note

THE PRIME INFO ROUND-UP:

Honestly there was not a ton. Got there maybe 15 minutes late, so if there was anything up front I missed it. Notes I took are as follows-

Described it as "the toys are out of the box" - ie. they don't have to worry about continuity, don't have to worry about canon, not limited to mighty morphin, or even existing characters.

- Lauren's background has changed a little bit - it sounds like this is going to be an all-new word based on the existing properties, even more so than the previous round of comics. (Hopefully the end of "see episode here!" things)

- You will see characters from the entire zeitgeist of power rangers, but also characters built to live in this all new word

- Characters from Aquitar, other places in the universe - was a little hard to hear but it sounded like they said "unexpected" places?

Overall there was a lot of talk about Massiveverse, some about the comic run in general. A fun fact that idk of was public knowledge before, Drakkon started off as the idea of an evil White Ranger. Kyle worked from that concept and where he started with Tommy and it eventually became the stinky man we know today.

Ryan mentioned M/tt at one point and I almost blacked out from rage. </3

OKAY LET'S CHECK THIS OUT

So the vibe of what I'm getting is this will ultimately be its own thing, not really continuing off the 2016 MMPR series? Like at best maybe they'll be like "this is a new universe made from Billy's actions" but who knows how much they'll actually like. tie the storylines together. At this point I feel they would just say it's building off Darkest Hour's events if it was; the series has been over for nearly a month so it's not like Billy fucking up the Grid and it making a new universe would be spoilers (in fact, it would actually HELP the finale a bit if we finally got more context at what just fucking happened).

While I know everyone's excited about the possibilities of using elements and Rangers across the franchise, I can't help but compare it to Beyond the Grid's premise and fandom reaction. It was the same situation, where people were excited about working with characters and plots outside of MMPR, but fast-forward to now and it's overall one of the least liked arcs of the 2016 series. (Disregard my own personal opinion of it.) I think if they're not careful, this whole "we can do whatever we want!!! fuck canon!!!!" idea could easily devolve into canon characters ending up more like OCs with canon characters' names and faces rather than an exploration of the canon character (see: the discourse over whether or not BtG Cam was Cam or Cyber-Cam.) But we'll just have to see.

(PLEASE be mindful of who you start shipping, Melissa)

#transmission #acecampbellsaunders

16 notes · View notes

inverswayart · 5 months

Text

The Fallout OC Seven Day S.P.E.C.I.A.L.

Now that I realized that no one can actually stop me, I'm gonna talk about my ocs again! And i found this challenge? ask list? and i liked it so enjoy the ride, i guess

Day 1 - Strength

Sinclair

6 - Barrel Chested >> 8 - Circus Strongman | Strong Back, Heave, Ho!

How physically strong is your OC? Sinclair wasn’t a wimp to begin with - he did plenty of blue collar work before becoming an engineer and had some muscle to show for it. Then, soon after he embarked on a journey to get Benny and return the Platinum Chip, he decided to not go through the sacked Nipton and just go around - and got kidnapped by the Think Tank. After two weeks of dealing with them and returning his stolen organs Sinclair found that his spine got infused with some of the tech used to replace it - and it gave him some additional core strength. So in the end he is surprisingly strong for his not-that-buff frame.

How good are they in melee or hand to hand combat? Sinclair is perfectly able to dish out some nasty punches and kicks, but he’ll lose against anyone with actual martial knowledge - Sinclair’s skill comes mostly from hectic brawls and having to stab and dismember ghost people at Sierra Madre as fast as possible.

Do they just punch things or are they trained in martial arts? Definitely the former - Sinclair never had much interest in learning martial arts, and even though he skimmed through a couple of manuals later in his life he never got far with it. When he has to fight in melee, he mostly tries to knock the opponent out and then finish them off from a safer distance.

Can they carry very heavy guns around easily or carry loads of supplies, or are they not that strong? He is absolutely that strong - he casually carries almost 300 lbs of stuff around (and some more if he had a couple of beers). It goes well with his tendency to over-pack - he probably has at least twice as many supplies and ammo than he would actually need at any given moment.

Innocence

3 - Doughy Baby | Pack Rat, Weapon Handling

How physically strong is your OC? Ino is a walking definition of “noodle arms”. She has trouble wearing heavy armor and carrying more than a couple guns on her. Of course, she got a tiny bit of muscle built after having to run errands across the whole Mojave, but it still doesn’t help her that much.

How good are they in melee or hand to hand combat? Terrible! Being locked into melee is one of her many nightmares, and so Ino does her best to avoid it. Her inability to fight without guns has made her forced visit to Legion’s Fort even more terrifying than it already was - being surrounded by shitton of brutes with powerfists constantly reminded her of how screwed she was.

Do they just punch things or are they trained in martial arts? While she can’t use it effectively, Ino does know a couple of legitimate moves - like the counter that Veronica taught her or takedown from ranger Andy.

Can they carry very heavy guns around easily or carry loads of supplies, or are they not that strong? Ino’s not that strong and she knows it - and so she takes packing very seriously and always takes only the bare essentials - with the reasoning that it’ll be easier to find/buy something on the road and move faster rather than exhaust herself by carrying all the extra stuff, moving slowly and still having to buy some more supplies when it runs out early.

#tag for art #tag for ocs #tag for words #fanart #doodle #fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #courier six #courier sinclair #innocence bennett #fallout oc seven day special

15 notes · View notes

sil-writes-fiction-too · 3 months

Text

A Monument To Your Atrocities

Lucio Morgasson x Apprentice!OC

Genre: angst

June of Doom, Day 16: "At least it can't get any worse", "Stranded" (late entry) @juneofdoom

CW: mentions of death, mentions of illness

A/N: finally a The Arcana one-shot! This is my own rendition of the Lazaret scene from Lucio's route, featuring my apprentice OC, Vesper. I wanted a reason for her to stick by Lucio's side other than "she's just that nice", and I wanted it to tie into her past. I tried to convey it a little through this piece, so I hope it comes across. Enjoy!

Red light pours into the room from the massive holes in the collapsed ceiling. Twisting vines poke through, flowing down like tendrils that look ready to grab at him and drag him into the ashy darkness of the island. No, he needs to stop thinking like this! This is already terrifying enough without his mind playing tricks on him. He looks around with wide eyes, wondering why in the hell he ended up here of all places. Is this a sick joke?? With every second that he passes sitting on the dirty stone floor and with the rattling of the chains weighing him down, he can feel his breath shortening more and more, making the feeling of dread slowly and increasingly settle in at the center of his chest.

It's quiet in here... too quiet. Having spent the last few days at Vesper's side, he isn't used to how deafening the silence can be anymore. He feels the need to fill the quietness now that the magician's lovely voice isn't here to comfort him anymore. “Okay... calm down Lucio, you'll get outta this, you always do. God, now I regret having this place built...” He mutters to himself as he keeps looking around, trying to think of what to do. He is all alone, he is lost... and he has no way of escaping. But surely, somewhere out there Vesper must be looking for him, right? Right...? Of course she is! He just needs to wait, yes... wait.

He takes a deep breath to try and calm down, bouncing his leg nervously. “Okay... no big deal. Soon Vesper will come get me and then we can leave this hell hole together... I can do this. I just gotta wait...” He looks around some more. He has been here for, what, five... ten minutes already? And it's still quiet. The Devil doesn't seem to have followed him here, for whatever reason. A nervous chuckle falls from his lips in an attempt at soothing his fear. “At least it can't get any worse.”

He really should learn how to shut his mouth.

A high, unearthly shriek echoes from somewhere within the Lazaret, making him yelp in fear, the chains rattling loudly with the sharp jolt of his body. He gulps thickly and then clears his throat, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible “Uhhh... what's that? Who's there?” He calls out, hoping to scare off whatever made that horrible sound. Seriously, he could benefit from shutting the hell up sometimes.

As if awakened and spurred on by the fake and unconvincing bravado in his voice, the shadows around him in the room begin to shift and stretch towards him with shrieks and spectral cries. Unable to run away, Lucio quickly huddles behind a nearby, rusted bed frame as he looks on in horror. Dark, wispy figures crawl from the broken bed frames and empty doorways, slowly closing in and swarming all around him as they reach their shadowy hands towards him. He frantically swats at the air, desperately trying to keep them away from him.

“You. You did this to us...” Come their raspy voices all at once.

“I don't even know what you're talking about!” He is quick to snap back, already feeling the now too familiar sensation of guilt slowly crawl up his body as he lies boldly to these desperate, crying figures. Vesper would be so disappointed in him.

“You know.” Rattles an old man's voice as one of the larger shadows crawls towards him, backing him against the wall. Lucio swears he can almost feel the specter's chilly breath fan against his face. “H-hey there. Good ghost. Nice ghost?” He stammers nervously, pressing himself up against the stone wall to try and put as much distance as possible between himself and the dark spirit, but the ghost reaches for him with bony fingers tinged red and bloody, making Lucio's heart almost stop right then and there as panic explodes in his aching chest.

“N-no, no, go away. Go away! You're dead! You're not real!” He screams in terror, curling up like a child and putting his head in his hands in an irrational attempt at getting the shadows to disappear and leave him alone.

His mind swarms with thoughts and questions and memories of his past actions, while a string of incoherent words and pleas falls from his trembling lips as he desperately tries to make sense of this situation, or to convince himself that this is all a bad dream and that soon he'll wake up. All those people... all those victims..

He is so absorbed in his terror-fueled chaos that he doesn't even register the source of the bright flash of light that inundates the whole room briefly, and the ghosts' cries are so loud and so close to him that they render him deaf to a familiar voice calling out to him and warning his assailants to back off from him. “Gah! What the hell was that?” He exclaims as a bunch of colored spots cloud his vision from the sheer intensity of the light burst.

He looks around wildly to try and locate the culprit, and when his vision finally clears he almost collapses with relief. She's here.

“Vesper! You're finally here! What took you so damn long?!” He almost laughs hysterically, still huddled up in his corner and trying with all his might to not let the ghosts touch him.

“You're welcome.” She replies sarcastically with open arms, blowing a strand of pearly-white hair away from her face. “I mean, you're a sight for sore eyes.” He quickly adds. “Now get me out of here!” He pleads in a high-pitched voice as he shakes the heavy chains hanging off of him. When she hesitates, he falters.

“Uh, can you hurry up? In case you hadn't noticed, there are an awful lot of...” Something standing behind Vesper catches his attention, making him pale until there's no color left in his face. “..ghosts...” He trails off as he stares at the horrifying apparition that almost seems like it emerged directly from Vesper's own shadow. It fades, reappears, and opens its mouth with a rattling moan. When the magician turns around, she lets out a sharp gasp as she sees it too.

“Lucio. Why did you do it?” Comes Vesper's soft, broken voice as the twisted creature approaches. His mouth opens in horror and his entire being suddenly grows cold. No... this can't be. She is alive! He knows she is! So why now...??

“You killed me, Lucio. Without thought or hesitation.” Continues the relentless apparition, and he shivers in his chains, knees hugged to his chest as he feels his throat close shut at its words.

“...I know. I'm-I'm sorry.” He stammers as his voice starts to break. “I didn't mean to kill you, I swear.” His fingernails dig into his knees and his lips start trembling again.

For a moment, the room falls silent as Vesper's eyes widen and she grows pale at their words. Her hands, which were getting ready to try and create another burst of light, lower in shock.

“What?! I died?” She stares at Lucio in pure disbelief, feeling a mixture of emotions hit her all at once as she tries to make sense of what she just heard. She thought this... apparition was merely trying to scare Lucio, to make him believe that he killed her, but his answer to those accusations is like a nail in the coffin or a flash of lightning in the darkness of the night. She died. But how? She is here right now, in the flesh! And yet...

But it all makes sense, doesn't it? No matter how hard she always tried, she never found an explanation for her amnesia, and even though she's always had a suspicion that Asra knew more than he let on, he always refused to discuss the matter further with her. The memory loss, the headaches, the disorientating feeling of being incomplete... it all seems to become a little clearer if her death is the explanation, but how does that even make a lick of sense? If she is dead then she shouldn't be here. How is she here? How can she be both dead and alive? A ghost and a living woman?

As a sudden shock of pain skewers her brain, her thoughts and feelings turn sour. The news of her death wasn't enough, of course. No, she also has to find out that the reason for all of this is none other than Lucio himself! All this time she's been trying to help him, to guide him, to save him... and he's been her killer all along?! A red hot anger rises in her body, but, right when she feels ready to explode, that anger suddenly turns into pain and her heart squeezes in her chest. Had he known all this time? Who she was? That she died because of him? While she was helping him, slowly falling for him... did he know he had doomed her?

Her eyes well up with tears and she doesn't even flinch when her ghost kneels next to Lucio's prone form. He tries to shrink away, but his chains hold him fast.

“If you didn't mean to kill me, why did you do it?” All the other ghosts suddenly surge forward, swarming around the three of them like a colony of ants with outraged cries of “Why? Why did we have to die here?”

“No, no, this isn't happening! You're not real! Leave me alone!” Lucio shrieks again, his desperation becoming more and more evident as the moments pass. Why did they have to die? Why did she have to die? He feels like the answers to those questions used to come naturally to him, not too long ago. A fair sacrifice for his success, for his survival, for his power. And he never batted an eye, did he? But those same answers now taste like bile in his mouth.

Still standing over him, Vesper looks around at the lamenting ghosts, alarmed. So many souls, so much pain... and it seems she was one of them at some point. The anguish hangs heavy in the room, almost suffocating her, becoming her own. Her gaze lowers towards Lucio again and her grief-stricken expression turns serious as understanding slowly dawns on her. “They won't just disappear.”

The ghosts' collective, plaintive cries are so loud that Vesper can barely hear herself, so she doesn't count on Lucio hearing her. Does she even care if he hears her? If he truly is the reason for her suffering... she could just turn around and leave. Something dark inside of her makes her think it could be easy for her to do it, to abandon him to this gruesome fate. But even so, despite these dark thoughts swirling in her mind, despite the anger, and against her better judgment, she takes a deep breath and steps forward, walking right through her own shade to sit next to him. “They won't just disappear.” She repeats, closer to his ear this time. “They must be here for a reason.”

Serious and strained as it is, her voice still sounds soft and kind as it always does when he most needs it. She just learned about her own death, that he made it happen... and yet she sits by his side and gently tries to pull him through. It only makes him want to cry more.

Lucio heaves a great sniff, still trembling from head to toe as he tries to gather his thoughts and to speak. “What reason?” His question comes out almost like a peep. He can't even look at her when he asks, because he knows that she is in pain, and that he is the cause of all this, no matter how much he likes to push the blame as far away from himself as possible.

“They're drawn to you. I don't know what they want, but it couldn't hurt to answer them, could it?” In truth she feels like she knows very well what they might want from him, and for a moment she wonders if perhaps part of her doesn't want the same thing, no matter how hard or painful it could be for him.

“I...” Begins Lucio, and suddenly the swarm of ghosts falls silent and still, hanging in the air like a cloud as they all wait expectantly for him to keep going. He sways back and forth on the spot, teetering on the edge of speech. Why is it always so difficult? Why does he always feel so awful? Why can't he just face reality? Why does he always mess things up so badly? He can feel Vesper's eyes on him, he knows the ghosts aren't the only ones waiting for answers... and knowing she is just sitting there, lost and confused and hurt, finally gives him that one last push.

“...I was afraid, okay? And I wasn't the only one.” He admits, bringing his hands up to his face with a rattle of chains as he feels a nauseating feeling of shame slowly well up inside him. “The plague was killing everyone! No one knew what to do. I didn't know what to do.” Images of the plague-ridden streets of Vesuvia flood his mind, startling him and setting off his usual ramblings. “You don't understand. I was Count, and I did what I had to. If I died of the plague-”. Suddenly, Vesper's ghost drifts closer to him, its outline shimmering in the dim gloom.

“What you had to do? Or what you wanted to do?” Its words come down on him like the blade of a guillotine, effectively knocking the air out of his lungs. “I-I-I don't-” he stutters as the panic, the guilt and the shame keep building up inside of him, making his eyes sting. “I was just so scared. I didn't want to die. I didn't want to disappear and be forgotten.”

His eyes widen in horror as realization dawns on him. “I... never thought about the same thing happening to anybody else.” His voice lowers as the weight of what he's done truly settles in. Vesper remains quiet by his side, but the flicker of a smile seems to appear on her ghost's face.

“Are you still afraid?” It asks almost tauntingly, but it is immediately met with Lucio's sincere response. “...yes. I've always been afraid.” He finally looks up to the figure's face, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

The hazy form of Vesper's ghost remains silent, but it extends one smoky hand towards Lucio and the other to her living, breathing counterpart.

“...Vesper?” He calls her name with uncertainty, once again searching for her guidance even though, right now, he feels like that's the last thing he deserves. She has every right to ignore him, to leave him there, to scorn him... and yet she gives him an encouraging nod, and she gently grasps her ghost's hand.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to. It won't happen again, I promise!” He exclaims, the first few tears finally falling down his face and staining his cheeks with his ruined makeup as he reaches for the hazy form drifting between him and Vesper. She doesn't even know if he's talking to it or to her. Perhaps it is both.

“Never again?” it inquires, and his quiet tears turn into loud and desperate sobs as his whole body shakes with his cries “Never! I swear!” He yells with so much sincerity that it shakes him down to his core, and with a wistful sigh, Vesper's ghost starts to disperse, shadow and vapor swirling around them.

“Do not forget...”

One by one, the other ghosts fade back into the crumbling mortar of the Lazaret. And as they disappear, so do the chains holding Lucio, who immediately reaches out to Vesper with a loud gasp, gripping hard onto her and sobbing into her shoulder. She is here, she is breathing. He knows there is a clear chance she might not want to have anything to do with him ever again after this, but for now he needs to hold her close, to make sure that she is truly alive. He couldn't live with the thought of her being gone for good... especially because of him.

Vesper stays still as Lucio clings to her, her eyebrows knitting together as she battles with herself. All her life, all the memories she's lost, all the pain and anguish that came with having to relearn how to even be a person.... It all was because of him. All this time she's been traveling with and helping the man that brought her to her death. That caused all of this. She has all the right to be angry at him, to yell at him and to never forgive him for what he's done... but once again that feeling in the back of her mind tells her that she should stay. This sensation that keeps pulling her towards him despite all the awful things he did... it has something to do with who she was before, she is certain of it. Whoever she was before she died is the reason why she hasn't left Lucio behind yet, why she can't help but understand him on a deep, personal level, no matter what he does. She should be screaming at him right now and yet she can't help but think that she's never heard Lucio sound so genuinely broken before, and once again, despite everything, her heart reaches out to him in sympathy. Maybe one day she'll regret standing by his side, trying to guide him towards a better path... But that day isn't today.

And as her arms finally come up to wrap around Lucio and hold him closer to her, the last chain binding him shudders, convulses... and crumbles away.

#june of doom day 16 #june of doom #day 16 #count lucio #lucio the arcana #lucio angst #lucio x oc #lucio x apprentice #lucio morgasson #the arcana lucio #the arcana #the arcana angst #the arcana fiction #angst #cw: mentions of death #cw: mentions of illness #my writing

11 notes · View notes