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the-song-of-avernus · 3 months

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Family (Re)Union

Summary: With Wyll's father rescued from the Iron Throne, tension lingers as Ulder Ravengard has been remarkably quiet about the woman who rescued him, the woman he saw over and over again in Wyll's mind these past months.

(Word Count: 3500) Devil Wyll (Tiefling Form) x Cambion-turned-tiefling Tav Read on AO3

“Wyll, he hasn’t said a dozen words to me since we got back. He just chills out in the corner, doing paperwork, taking visits from Florrick and like four trusted Fist, and occasionally petting the owlbear.” Standing in the now-emptied chambers of the former Bhaalist tribunal, stone-silent except for the occasional crackle of the torches not yet extinguished, stood the self-styled Blade of Avernus, Wyll Ravengard, and the newly-minted Song of Avernus, Furiella.

It had been a whirlwind four months. From a life of luxury hiding out in the city, a cambion with not a care in the world, to captured and tadpoled aboard an Illithid ship, crashing to earth. Mindflayers, gods and goddesses. Avatars of the Dead Three. The loss of her powers and wings. Mortality.

And Wyll.

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The son of the Duke. He’d disappeared without so much a word from the city nearing a decade ago, and any attempts to find out where he had gone had led to stonewalling. No comment. An embarrassing secret that she or her big sisters could use?

The truth itself had been far more straightforward. He’d been pacted to a Mizora, whose reputation preceded her in Infernal circles. She’d felt it the moment Wyll had confronted Karlach in camp that night. Worse still…she’d interfered. She had been the one to talk Wyll out of fulfilling his contract with Mizora that night. She was the one who had kept Zariel’s lost warrior alive; no, befriended her. She was the one helping every single lost soul encountered on the Sword Coast with no expectation of gain. The nerve.

That night, Wyll had paid a price. Gone was the human-looking Blade of Frontiers. Pointed ears. A tail. Horns and claws, sharpened teeth and his good eye turned black. Infernal and tiefling features abounded, and as Mizora made sure to make quickly known, very permanent. With it had come a warning from Mizora for her. Interfere again, little one, and she’d share a similar fate.

As the two had grown closer, and their travels continued onwards, eventually Mizora's warning would come to pass. They had just discovered the sanctuary in the shadow-cursed lands near the one-time Reithwin Town. Harpers and Flaming Fist and the tieflings from the grove! Joy and relief had quickly turned to horror, however, when she noticed the tiefling girl Mol seated across a lanceboard table from..him. Raphael, the son of the archdevil Mephistopheles.

He had been tempting them since the day after they had escaped the Illithid ship. Teasing a solution to their “tadpole” issue only to pull out the carpet for a later day. Mol had made some questionable choices, left largely to her own and with the unquestioned adoration of the other tiefling children, and now here was Raphael. She knew his intent. He’d sensed her potential to, and had planned to entrap her. Absolutely not. Her own protectiveness of the tieflings and especially the children and desire to shield them from the horrors of the Hells overrode her judgement. What had started with a cordial conversation led to a bumped lanceboard set, and a fury that illuminated the outpost even more than the Selunite cleric’s light. Promising his revenge, a hellish laugh filled the room as Raphael glibly noted “Third strike, little one.”

Flames engulfed her body as she seared with agony. Her wings dissolved in a blaze of heat. Her magic was dissolving by the second with a ferocity not even a sussur flower could manage. The creeping shuffle of mortality made its’ way into her form. “Since you’re so interested in the tieflings, this seems particularly fitting. Be grateful, the way you were going you would have probably become celestial were it not for our guiding hand. At least this way you’ll hold on to some semblance of yourself. Who knows, perhaps you’ll even rediscover yourself one day. I’ll be watching. That’s a promise.”

Perhaps it was the cutting of the final tether that reminded Wyll of Mizora and his own loss, perhaps it was the similarity of their predicaments. Maybe it was just her. But Wyll had grown used to the new reflection, and was there for her in the way she’d been there for him. The spurs on her back where wings had once grown. The very subtle lines on her face that hadn’t been there the day they met. The first time she awoke from her bedroll with the slight pop of a bone joint and a small groan of soreness. This had been new for her, just as the horns had been new for him.

In wanting to be there for her in the same way that she had helped him slowly grow to not hate his new features, Wyll had wanted to be there for her too. In that moment, it hit him with a wave of perfect crystal clarity.

Earlier in their travels, she had teased him about dancing. It took some work to get used to his altered center of gravity. Wyll practiced for days, when everyone was asleep. He wanted to get this right. To let go of his own self-doubt and self-loathing and to show the woman who had so recently been there for him that he was starting to find peace, and that he wanted to share that peace and that...love..with her.

There was that word. He loved her. And you know what, if Wyll had to wager a pouch of gold on it, he suspected she felt the same. Resolute, the practice continued on under the cloak of darkness and shadow, until one night she’d awoken, unable to rest, her shoulders once again sore enough to keep her restless. Furiella needed some balm for the irritation, and a GOOD stretch. Wyll, nearby, couldn't help but hear her muttering about the damnable spurs on her shoulder blades, the last remnants of the wings that she had sported proudly until recently. The same vestigal holdover that most other tieflings also carried.

Their absence was clearly the biggest adjustment for her. He had seen her playing the Lyre – first a wooden one she’d gotten from the druids. Later an exquisite and ornate spider-themed one that they had recovered from the body of the dead Drow, Minthara, in the raid of the goblin camp. He had to figure the shoulder movements were causing irritation. Thoughts of mechanics quickly turned into wondering how did she managed to use these damnable claws to so effortlessly work the strings without breaking them? So tenderly. With such beautiful music.

He had planned to ask her to play a song while showing off his steps. Instead, that night he found himself stood before her, mid-rehearsal, her with a cheesy grin with only the slightest glance of soreness."Don't stop on my account." .

"I figured it was time to brush up on my skills," he grinned back. "I wouldn't want to disappoint my new partner."

Taking the opportunity, he asked to see her own dance movements. The bard had already seen his, after all. She’d managed a fairly graceful leap but it was clear she was still getting used to the balance changes that must come with the lack of wings and the way mortality creeps into your muscles and joints. Working with her, the dance had grown closer and closer – and then a kiss. Which begat another. And over the course of their journeys, notes had become songs, and steps into more dance, and shared affection and kisses into love most deep.

As they'd grown to love each other they'd also grown to re-love themselves. Ironically, having become a tiefling had given her a level of humanity that she had never known. Lives were so fleeting, so brief. Love and joy. Duty and courage. Grief and sorrw. Every feeling mattered that much more, every moment of time all the more valuable. Helping people, that mattered too. Furiella came to know why Wyll had dedicated himself to traveling the Sword Coast as a hero.

Heroes would be needed to liberate their home.

While they were away, Bane's Chosen, Enver Gortash, had used Wyll’s father as a pawn in his ascent to power and had, upon the adventurers' arrival in the city, had himself declared Grand Duke by Ulder Ravengard, then discarded him in his underwater prison. Mizora herself had re-emerged and offered Wyll a way to rescue him, but refusing to be her pawn one moment later, had told her no. They managed to determine the location of the prison almost by accident (thanks to some devotees of Umberlee and a submersible) but had mounted a rescue, which Mizora herself tried to stop (and had failed).

Ulder had been deeply unhappy at the rescue. His son had become a devil. The woman who had ensnared him those seven years ago stood just meters away in their room at the Elfsong Tavern. And the woman he had notice his son’s attentions continuously drift towards had an aura similar to that of the blue cambion, Mizora, that had ensnared a young Wyll. Her appearance said tiefling, but no, there was more there, Ulder knew it.

The confrontation had come a short time later. Ulder was disgusted with his son and his continued infernal dealings. Was this some sort of sexual thing? A plan to oust him and take over the Gate? Personal riches? What could drive HIS son to forget the pillars and to seek out the influence of the Nine Hells themselves.

The Illithid tadpole that Enver Gortash had used to control Ulder Ravengard would provide the answer. Wyll and Furiella, having decided that if Ulder were going to hate Wyll (never even mind her), he should at least know the whole truth. Then, if he still hated his son, still loathed the woman who, she was beginning to suspect might become his daughter-in-law in the years to come, then at least they would know that he had hated them with all information revealed. Once nothing was hidden, if he still hated them, that was beyond their regard, and they could live with that.

In the matter of minutes, the tadpole had given Ulder Ravengard access to years of memories. The childhood bonds. His work saving the tieflings and saving the sword coast. Mizora’s many, many lies. And that fateful day seven years ago when Wyll had accepted her first offer in order to protect the city from the cultists of Tiamat who had amassed in secret to lay siege to the city. That Wyll had tried to tell him about but couldn’t – because of her.

THAT apology came simply. In a moment, he had understood his son. How he had kept to the four pillars. Learned and internalised every lesson Ulder had ever tried to pass on. The way he cherished the things about his mother that Ulder had passed on. That Wyll had never regretted his choice for a moment, not because of its’ consequences, but simply because it had meant that everyone else was cared for. Everyone else was safe. The reunion had been swift, had been sincere.

But Ulder Ravengard had also seen her memories. The years of training by her sisters and extended family to one day step into the family business. Adventures in the hells. The way she herself had once seen Wyll, seen him, seen the city, seen the people of the Gate. Felt what she was. But also what she had lost. Had given up. Immortality. Flight. Almost all of her powers save for her abilities as a bard and a small amount of wizarding talent that had come largely at the tutoring of the wizard Gale, of Waterdeep, that had been in their company. The pain and the agony. She was a cambion, a daughter of the hells. He’d heard stories of their kind having the potential to change, to be less evil – but usually that meant ascension, an inversion into becoming celestial. Not a tiefling. Not truly. He had also seen the moment that Mizora tried to tempt her again to spite Wyll, and she had only just held resolve. Whatever had been done to her, Ulder's training with the Flaming Fist and access to her unfiltered memories through that damnable parasite allowed him to still detect a trace of something...more. In the same way that whatever had transformed Wyll had left a residual trace of his former humanity, the tiniest ember of who and what she had been before still smoldered.

He was petrified at the idea that this was somehow a game. A plot. A ruse. What WAS her true intention here?, had thought Duke Ravengard, distrustfully mulling over the nature and plans of the woman who had saved him, of who her son so clearly loved deeply. He just got his son back, he will NOT let him get hurt by another devil.

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In the halls of the Bhaal Tribunal, Wyll and Furiella wondered what Ulder was going to do, what he would say. Because Ulder had seen his mind, knew he was going to propose to her. Seen her mind and already knew the answer. Knew who she had been. Knew who he had become. They, meanwhile, had seen him. Seen his mind and heart through the tadpole, and the reactions on his face. He clearly felt reconcillatory towards his son, but what about her? Wyll had already had an idea for a proposal that his father must now know about, and she had basically turned him into a walking jewelry story, having recently put him in charge of carrying the assorted rings and gems that the adventurers had found. It was not a subtle hint, but the response of Wyll’s father loomed over things like a sword held overhead.

Arriving back at the Elfsong a short time later, the pair were intercepted by Lakrissa. “Hey, you two.” Changing to a whisper the tiefling remarked, “Duke Ravengard wants to meet you both in the cellar. That large study you told Alfira about with the great acoustics.”

Thanking her, the two trekked through the kitchen – with a quick nod to the chef – and down into the cellar. Moving through the passage, they arrived at the Emperor’s old haunt. Only a few knew about this place. Including, apparently Ulder Ravengard, seated facing away from them at a table.

The room was still coated with a fine layer of ash following the disposal of several Githyanki bodies a tenday earlier. The pair made their way across the room, the flickering candles and lanterns creating a mosaic of shadows.

As the two sat, an unearthly silence filled the large stone room. The faint sound of a rat could be heard chittering away a short distance nearby. No doubt Chef Roveer would need their services again soon.

Staring daggers at the cambion-turned-tiefling, breaking his gaze only to look at his son with nearly the same steely intensity, Ulder clearly pondered which set of words would leave his mouth.

Finally, the silence broke with an exhale. His gaze softened.

“I am not a man that is good with these sorts of things…”

The tension was broken by the echoing sound of footsteps. A small child’s footsteps.

“Mr. Wyll! Ms. Red! Miss Alfira says you came down here?”

The slightly concerned voice was unmistakable. Yenna, the small child that the pair and their friends had found on the outskirts of Rivington; whose mother was clearly gone and in the interim had become their ward.

“I was trying to get the chef man to let me help in the kitchen but he chased me away!” the child said, somewhat dejectedly.

Cutting off the stare down with Wyll’s father for a moment, the bard rose from her chair and went to intercept the young girl. “Yenna, there you are!” Furiella knelt to the girl’s level. “I know you want to help so bad – and the food you made for us was SO good! But I know we’ve been living here while we help everyone, but right now the Chef is having to run a restaurant to help out and feed all those people in the Elfsong. Remember?”

The girl looked at the bard, absorbing the lesson. “Tell you what? You know Jaheira?”

Interrupting Furiella, Yenna piped up cheerfully with her best, most childish impression. “Nature’s servant awaits.”

Cracking up both Wyll and Furiella – and with even a small grin crossing Ulder’s face – the girl looked towards the couple once more.

“Well, Jaheira’s family has a house in the city. I tell you what. If you promise to be good tonight, and if Gale says you completed the spelling and math lessons I asked him to make for you, tomorrow we’ll go to her kids house – her kids are adults already, she’s SO grown up – and you and Wyll and I will cook for everyone!”

With delight, the child erupted with glee! Jaheira’s garden was ready to provide some absolutely delicious fruit and vegetables, and it would be a good chance to learn outside of a tavern and in a real home and real kitchen.

Looking across the table, Ulder saw Furiella with new eyes. The way she looked at the small human girl with an almost maternal look. He saw the gears turning in Wyll’s eyes as well. A thought process he himself knew well. He had been holding her not just to the standards of a demon but holding her responsible for the actions of others. That wasn’t justice.

Choosing this moment to step in, Duke Ravengard piped up. “I believe I’ve seen enough.”

The mood in the room once more grew tense, with even Yenna noticing the change. Noticing her apprehension, Furiella pulled the child in closer; if Wyll’s father picked this moment, with Yenna present, to hurt Wyll or Yenna or even herself – her tolerance for Ulder’s adjustment period would end. For the first time, the thought of family crossed the bard’s mind. This had become her’s, and no one, not even Wyll’s father, was going to hurt them or show this poor child that’s already lost so much more pain.

“Furiella…When I was in your mind. Saw my son through your eyes. And I saw the way you are with her..”, gesturing towards Yenna, “…just now. You really ARE unlike her, aren’t you?” referencing Mizora.

The bard was unusually quiet, glancing at Wyll and Yenna before returning the duke’s question with a small nod.

Turning towards Wyll, the elder Ravengard continued. “When I was a younger man, during the time I knew your mother, I was privy to seeing the way she looked at me. When this woman looks at you, son, she looks at you with those same eyes. And when we talked about our future together; when she was expecting you. I saw her again in Furiella’s eyes when she was talking with the girl…Yenna, I believe it is.”.

The younger Ravengard’s jaw loosened and his eyes widened.

“I do not agree with your having signed a deal with Mizora to save our city, although had I been in your shoes in the time I believe I might have done the same thing. Another day, another time, and without this worm in my head, we still need to discuss that. But I’ve seen you through her eyes, and I’ve seen her through yours.”

“If the day should come when the two of you decide you wish to make a life together; make a family together” Ulder noted with an almost knowing twist on the ‘if’, “please know that you have my blessing.”

Now her jaw and mouth had gone slightly agape. Blessing?

“I have always talked about wanting to build a Baldur’s Gate for all. I’ve seen the way that Enver Gortash attempts to weaponize hatred and prejudice to control, and I cannot allow my own fears and my own history to cause me to make the same mistakes. I’ve seen the things you’ve given up, the things you’ve embraced, and the courage you’ve shown. If I’m to rebuild it, then that MUST start with my son and his love and all that they call into their lives.” Standing up and walking over towards the others, he placed a hand on Yenna’s shoulder while looking down towards his son and the woman he suspected he would one day soon know as his daughter-in-law. “Remember the four pillars, and remember your love for each other, and nothing on this plane or any other can stand against you – and know that as long as there is breath in my lungs that you are both welcome home in Baldur’s Gate. Yenna, you are always welcome as well. ”

Starting to turn away from the stunned couple and the child in their care, the Duke paused. “Son…I kept a couple of your mother’s recipe books. If you would like, I could have someone back at home who I know to be loyal retrieve them and have them brought here. For the three of you. Perhaps bring a couple of your things as well.”

“I would love that, Father.” Wyll was nearly overcome.

Glancing at the young lovers and their charge one more time, the duke left for upstairs, leaving both adults on the verge of tears and even the young child aware of the emotion of the moment.

Rising to begin to leave the former home base of Balduran himself, the young lovers took hold of one another. Not wanting to make a particularly grown-up display in front of Yenna, the two embraced with him giving her a peck on the cheek.

Pulling away, Furiella stared at Wyll.

“Blessing? Wyll, blessing for what?”

“Don’t worry about it, my love.” Responded back the Blade of Avernus.

As they made to leave, Wyll from the front turned back towards the love of his life.

“Have you ever seen the Wilden Oak? Perhaps we could go there after dinner tomorrow night?”

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meadowlarkx · 10 months

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Maemag and 19 for the kiss prompts!

19. ...for luck

The cavalry of the Union of Maedhros was a haphazard affair, to Maglor's eye. Cold steep Himring had few mounts, and the other riders had been cobbled together from the few remnants of the Gap's forces, alongside Caranthir's Elves and Bór's horsemen. Maglor had poured the past years into Maedhros' Union, and he had accomplished much. He had sung his most stirring songs and spoken his sweetest speeches to win his brother Bór's men as allies. He had coaxed his few friends that escaped burning in the Bragollach into facing the Enemy's fires again boldly and bravely. He had trained Elves and men and horses, month after month after month. He looked out upon them now, from the entrance to the command tent, and still found them wanting. Truth be told, Maglor was nervous, though he did not show it on his face. The pride he felt beholding the bristling array of banners and riders was dampened by the knowledge, too-intimate, of fracture lines in the ranks and the taste of choking ash.

He would hold fast on the morrow. He had vowed in his heart that he always would, for Maedhros.

Turning inwards, he let the tent's flap close behind him as it slipped from his shoulder. Maedhros stood at the hastily-erected table, beside the pallet they would share that night. The summer sun carried rich color down through the tent's cloth and arrayed it upon his hair and skin.

For the first time since the fateful moment he rode out to meet Morgoth's embassy, Maedhros had taken to wearing his thick red braid twined intricately in many strands, and today he had set into it a glimmer of silver wire that set off the vermillion. He bore himself proudly and seemed even taller for it. He had begun to speak in private moments of what they would do afterwards—when the Enemy was gone.

Even in stillness, looking over the maps laid out on the table, he was a blaze of energy: a taut harpstring or a bolt of lightning. Maglor's spirit was stirred, as ever, seeing him. It sought him out—his answering spirit.

Maedhros raised his glance from the parchment and found Maglor’s. He should have looked worn: a scar stood out near one eye, and in the past few months he had all but ceased sleeping. Instead, lit by hope, he was more beautiful than Maglor had ever known him.

No song or tale of heroism encompassed his brother's courage. Maedhros had not wished Maglor to try his hand at crafting one himself. The protagonists of Tirion's theater had been cut out of paper, but Maedhros had remade himself from deepest darkness, from the tangled skein of the world, and created this strategist, this soldier. Despite his forebodings, Maglor felt a rush of confidence. They would win the day tomorrow.

"Káno, come here." Maedhros gestured with the stump of his right wrist. Maglor flew to him like a falcon to a falconer's glove.

"The cavalry are ready; Bór's men have been—"

He was cut off: Maedhros wound his gauntleted left hand into his hair and kissed the breath from him. Maglor made a needy sound as the metal tugged at his curls and could not help it. Heat flooded his body despite the exhaustion of the march and scouts and surveys. He felt the seam of his trousers chafe the place between his legs and wished Maedhros would touch him there. Belatedly his own arms wound about strong shoulders, petting and holding. But by then Maedhros soon released him. Maglor stood stunned and dizzied. Maedhros grinned at him.

"For luck," he said.

Maglor laughed and barely recognized the sound, so light it was, like his old laugh. Maedhros had not drawn him near in weeks, and in the years before that, rarely with such open passion.

I am your luck, then?

There was an irony in the sentiment, but for once, Maglor was content to leave that stone unturned.

"To the day that dawns, glorious!" he said smiling, as though Maedhros had raised a glass in a toast instead of kissing him senseless. With the way Maedhros was looking at him, he hoped he would be tempted into more of the same.

"To us," Maedhros answered, lowly, as though he had not meant Maglor to hear.

#hello hello...#maedhros #maglor #maemags #maemag #maedhros x maglor #etc.#silmarillion fic #silmarillion #my fic #kiss meme #jouissants #messy but i hope you like this!!!!!#i thought of doing something fluffier but once the thought of nirnaeth wormed into my brain there was no escaping #i think maglor is often a bit deemphasized or shunted aside in my mental narrative of maedhros' mindset leading up to the nirnaeth etc #and i wanted to take a stab at writing him in because... we know he was living rent free in maedhros brain and vice versa ulmo told us

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biblioklept-writes · 1 year

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The Foreign Queen, Part 3

A/N: This does not have much Aemond in it, but we see the reader bonding with Haelena. Also this does contain Daemon slander, if you don’t like this i'd recommend you skip this over. (This is NOT proofread, so please lmk of any spelling or grammatical errors, thanks!)

Word Count: 1.1 k

Summary: You find yourself with the beloved Queen Haelena, learning why the people loved her so dearly.

Series Masterlist | HOTD Masterlist

The air was tense, everyone in the Red Keep pulled taut as a string. Word of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s husband Daemon Targaryen plotting to usurp the Iron Throne was spreading faster than a wildfire. The Rogue Prince was infamous for his bloodlust and affinity for wars, and with the brief interaction she had shared with the blacks, she had decided that she did not like him.

Crass, wild, and entitled were the words your mind thought when you had met him. Other less than insulting words also came to her head, but you didn’t express them for the sake of court manners. Daemon Targaryen certainly had skill with his wicked sword and powerful dragons, but whatever skill he had in combat was diminished by his ability to jump to thoughtless conclusions and the less than flattering words he had expressed of you and your people.

Despite the gossip that had been filled in your ears about the Dowager Queen and her children, the Princess had found the Red Keep and its Royal residents far more welcoming than your previous hosts. Must have been your biassed mind, but thus far, all the rumours had been just that - rumours.

Presently you were sitting with the gentle-souled Haelena, embroidering a gold jhumka on the corner of a green kerchief. It was made of the finest silk you had got from home, embroidering something for the Queen herself. Haelena sat across you, lost in her own beautiful world, embroidering flowers the princess had never seen before. Later, you were expected to accompany the Queen as she toured King’s Landing to meet her people. From what you had observed, the smallfolk loved their Queen, for she was kind and patient to anyone and everyone.

“Mighty Queen braves the storm,” Haelena’s sweet, sweet voice muttered. “The dragon blazed it down, the King can only sit and watch,” she continued, “As the enemies turn to torch.”

“My Queen, do you see something?” You gently asked.

“Mighty Queen braves the storm,” Haelena repeated, smiling, seemingly oblivious to the ominous poem she just recited. Glancing down at the golden embroidery in her hand, the Queen said, “I find it quite lovely, the design you have sewn, what is this ring called, Princess?”

“It is a piece of Bharatiya jewellery. We wear it with our fancier clothes, or even otherwise.” You explained. “Would Your Grace like one?”

“I think Jaehara would love those.” Haelena examined the pattern, a serene smile on her face. “That looks really pretty, Princess.”

“I’ll have some personally delivered to you, Your Grace.” You said, bowing your head with a smile. “Now, pray tell, do you prefer gold or silver, My Queen?”

“Gold is like the sun - warm, ever-present, glaring.” She muttered, half to herself. “Silver is like the moon - serene, kind, gentle.” Haelena pondered for a moment and said, “I will have one of each, My Lady.”

“And I shall personally see to it, my Queen.” You smiled. No wonder the small folk loved their Queen (Queen-Consort, rather) even though they disliked the King. And there was the youngest Prince, Daeron the Daring, who was even adored by people who despised the Targaryen invaders. You were yet to make an acquaintance of the youngest prince, yet you had never heard ill of him.

Haelena thought you were nice, and brought her pet spider to see you. The creature’s wrinkly-black legs made you a bit queasy, but you had seen worse. You had even killed some of them with your slippers - you didn’t have it in your heart to break that news to the Queen. You didn’t imagine she’d be fond of you after revealing that. Either way, the spider had seemingly taken after Haelena and didn’t move anywhere from her palm, then calmly crawled back into the cage when the Queen commanded. Perhaps it knew that she was the Queen.

“Haelena-” the Dowager Queen Alicent called out to her daughter, stopping when she saw you seated beside the Queen. You promptly got up and curtseyed, then stood still with you back straight. “Princess, it’s good to see you here. I am most glad that Haelena has found a friend.” She glanced at you once over, taking in the silk saree that you had adorned for the occasion. “It is great that I found you here. I thought it would be great if you could join us for dinner tomorrow night. We will host a feast to celebrate this new alliance between Bharat and Westeros.”

“I made an alliance with your son, My Lady,” You decided to say. “I fear I am not loyal to Westeros, only to King Aegon and his family.”

“You speak dangerous words,” Alicent warned, but her big brown eyes swarmed with relief. “You might be tried for treason.”

“It is not treason if I am not betraying my land.” You simply said. “As for my words, I only speak the truth as it is. I am not a fan of coddling lies, My Lady.”

“Your boldness is refreshing and admirable, Princess Y/N” The King’s mother admitted, eyes filled with pride. “But people have been harmed for much less,”

“I must pick my company carefully then,” You smiled at the previous queen, who returned your gesture.

“Indeed,” Alicent agreed. “The hour is late, I must put my grandchildren to bed,”

The little blond twins followed their grandmother out, giggling about something. The two innocent souls seemed unaware of the war threatening to start, and you would prefer to keep it that way. These toddlers deserved to have a proper childhood, as did the thousands of others who lived. At least, you would try to push the war back until your civilians were safe back in Bharat.

“I should take my leave, Your Grace.” You said, curtseying in front of Haelena. “It was wonderful spending time with you… I will look forward to our next meeting.”

Haelena sweetly smiled at you as you turned to leave, her ominous words echoing in your mind, and the kind smile she sent your way. You didn’t want her to get caught up in the bubbling war, but there would be no way to stop it from reaching her if the war started. Such a serene woman did not have to see the horrors of war - yet, she would be the one to suffer the most - Queens and mothers see the most losses in a war, and Haelena Targaryen was both.

Had you stayed mere moments longer, you would have seen the Prince come to his sister’s chambers to fetch his nephew and niece, only to find them both gone with their grandmother and as sister with a peaceful smile on her face, admiring the golden embroidery of your jhumkas on the green silk. Lately, Haelena had always been troubled, plagued by nightmares and visions words couldn’t share.

Aemond was relieved to see her finally relax, yet his curiosity got the best of him. What could have transpired to finally calm Haelena down?

You didn’t see when Aemond held a calculating glint in his eye as his sister recited the words to him, didn’t see when his interest turned into determination, when the little embers that urged him to get to know you turned into dancing flames. For now, he stoked the fires, hiding them like he hid the sapphire in his eye socket. Fire always gives smoke, he knew that, but he had long since mastered to disguise the smoke.

“Mighty Queen braves the storm, The dragon blazed it down, the King can only sit and watch, As the enemies turn to torch.”

Tags: @km-ffluv

Do let me know if you want to be added in the tags

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x desi!reader #haelena targaryen #hotd #hotd x desi!reader

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akihabaradivision · 24 days

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Otaku Corps Drama Track 1 - Living Life By One's Own Rules, Not Someone Else's

Pt. 1

— Aokigahara Forest —

[The camera buzzes back to life as Criss Hiromi, the paranormal investigator, stands at the edge of the Aokigahara Forest. The trees loom tall and dense, their branches clawing at the night sky. The forest floor is a tangle of roots and volcanic rock, making each step uncertain. As she made her way through the decrepit forest, Criss, night-vision goggles on her face, looked around, stepping cautiously and carefully.]

Criss: *Looks into her camera* Hello folks, and welcome back to another thrilling episode of "SpectralWhiskers". I'm your host, Criss Hiromi, alongside my faithful companion and sidekick, Leraje.

[Criss holds up her pet mouse in her free hand, who gives a squeak and a slight "wave" to the camera before the albino girl puts him back down again.]

Criss: After about a day's travel, we've finally arrived at our destination: the fabled Aokigahara Forest. A place of beauty and sorrow. They say the spirits of those who've passed linger here, trapped between worlds.

[At her owner's words, Leraje, sniffs the air, its fur on end.]

Criss: *Continuing her speech* Legend has it that the forest calls to the hearts of the troubled. It's easy to get lost here, both physically and spiritually.

[Stepping forward, the darkness suddenly swallowed the light from her camera. A soft WHISPERING could be heard, as if the trees themselves were speaking.]

Criss: *Whispering* Did you hear that, Leraje? We're not alone.

[Suddenly, a shadow flit between the trees. Criss spun around, her camera following, but there was nothing there. She continued looking around her until she heard a 'squeak' from her pet mouse. Turning back around, she was shocked to find a DOLL pinned to a tree, its eyes hollow.]

Criss: *Shaken* This… This is a common sight here, folks. They say these dolls are vessels for the yurei—souls seeking peace. You can think of them as ghosts or spirits, only these ones usually stay around for the sole purpose of exacting revenge. Kinda like hollows if any of you guys are Bleach fans.

[Reaching out, Criss, still shaking, hesitates before she picks up the doll from the tree.]

Criss: *Resolute* We're here to understand, not to disturb. If any spirits can hear me, know that we respect your pain.

[At first, the forest seemed to die down as she finished speaking. Almost a second later, however, a GUST of wind swept through the forest, and the doll's head slowly turned towards Criss, making her breath stop, and Leraje squeak in alarm.]

Criss: *Whispering* Whelp, I think it's time to go. Remember to like, share, and subscribe for more. Stay safe out there, and keep exploring.

[As she hurried back the way she came, the camera caught glimpses of the forest's eerie beauty as she retreated.]

— Akihabara Stadium —

[Unlike the Aokigahara Forest, the city of Akihabara was filled with sunlight as it was still noon. The city was in full blaze, and no place more so than Akihabara Stadium. The reason? Because a video game convention was underway, as well as a tournament. In one of the locker rooms of the stadium, the hum of computers and the soft glow of LED lights filled the room.]

[Lounging on one of the benches in the room was a laid-back girl with an air of nonchalance. This was none other than the #5-ranked gamer in the world, Nikki Yoshie, otherwise known by her gamer handle, "1-Up". Her eyes were currently glued to her phone as she had just finished watching the latest paranormal exploits of her friend, Criss, on YouTube.]

Nikki: *Shakes her head, a small grin on her face* You're out of your mind, Criss. But that's why I guess you do what you do, I suppose.

[Hovering over the comment section, the E-gamer quickly typed in a comment, using the same dexterity that she often displayed in her games.]

Nikki: *Typing* "Never change, Criss. Your bravery is my entertainment during these boring waits."

[As she finished, she was alerted by a knock as a staff member stuck their head inside the room, telling Nikki that her match was next.]

Nikki: *Sighing* Another day, another challenger. Alright, let's get this over with.

[Standing up from her seat, the E-gamer's posture suddenly changed from 'relaxed' to 'alert and ready'. She reached over to a nearby counter and grabbed her custom controller, its buttons worn from countless battles.]

Nikki: *To herself* Time to show why they call me "1-Up".

[Exiting the locker room, the door closed behind her with a decisive click. The hallway leading to the arena was lined with posters of past champions, but Nikki's gaze was set forward, her mind already in the game. The arena was a cacophony of cheers and electronic beats. Fans waved banners with Nikki's avatar, a pixelated warrior with a smirk. Nikki stepped onto the stage, her expression unreadable—a perfect 'kuudere'.]

[Her challenger was named Kaito[1], a.k.a. "NebulaStrike". Nikki had heard about him; a young hotshot with more confidence than skill. He was already at his station, his fingers twitching in anticipation. As he came face to face with the kuudere, a smirk was plastered on his face, though Nikki could see some doubt in his eyes. It was clear that he had heard about her reputation, as well as her gaming skills.]

[Taking their seats, both gamers hooked up their controllers and logged onto their game. Since she was the one being challenged, Nikki had the right to choose the game, but she decided to let Kaito choose it, confident that she more than likely had already played and mastered it. And she was right, as he had chosen a relatively new fighting game that was already popular e-gaming arenas called, "Cyber Clash Arena."]

[As the referee gave the signal to start, both players' avatars appeared in the virtual battleground: a neon-lit cityscape, skyscrapers towering above. Down below on the street floor, both players' avatars clashed. Nikki's avatar, a cybernetic ninja named "Shadow Blade," moved with lethal grace, her every action a dance of pixels and light.]

Nikki: *Focused* Time to up the ante.

[Executing a series of complex inputs, Shadow Blade responded instantly, leaping from building to building, her cloak trailing like a banner. Kaito's avatar, a hulking brute named "Crash Titan," roared in frustration, swinging wildly to hit her.]

[The crowd was on the edge of their seats, their cheers a pulsing rhythm that matched the intensity of the match. Nikki's fingers were a blur, her eyes locked on the screen, predicting her opponent's every move.]

Nikki: *Under her breathe* Predictable.

[With a swift combo, Shadow Blade disarmed Crash Titan, sending his weapon clattering to the virtual ground. Kaito's avatar was left vulnerable, and unfortunately for him, Nikki didn't miss her chance.]

Nikki: Game over.

[Shadow Blade launched into her ultimate move, a spectacle of flashing lights and devastating power, more commonly known as "Eclipse Strike". Crash Titan tried to retaliate, but was too late. The final blow landed, and the avatar disintegrated into a shower of digital sparks.]

[The arena exploded with applause, the sound deafening. Nikki's victory was displayed for all to see, her name climbing the leaderboard once again. Standing from her seat, her avatar bowed gracefully to the defeated opponent. The challenger could only nod in respect, his dreams of victory shattered but his spirit not broken.]

Nikki: *To Kaito* Until next time.

[With that, the kuudere turned to leave the stage, her fans chanting louder than ever. Though she may not show it, inside, Nikki's already analyzing her performance, always striving for perfection.]

— Tokyo University, Dorm Room —

[On the other side of the city, in her dorm room, the young and popular mangaka, Keiko Yumi, sat at her desk surrounded by sketches and manga panels. Her most popular work, "Red of the Ambitious," was spread out before her, the characters seeming to leap off the page with life and energy.]

[The glow from her laptop illuminated her face, a mix of concentration and artistic flair. She was the epitome of the "perfect student" at Tokyo University, admired for both her intellect and beauty.]

Keiko: *To herself* Nikki never ceases to amaze me. If only she'd join me here…

[She smiled softly, her thoughts on her friend's recent gaming victory. To this day, it was unknown how exactly she and Nikki became friends, especially since the two were so different. The most likely reason was because of their love for artwork. With a sigh, she turned back to her artwork, her pen dancing across the paper.]

[Suddenly, her computer pinged with an incoming email, making her frown somewhat as she had made a small mistake on her art. Clicking it open, her eyes widened as she read the message from Nemu Aohitsugi, her superior at Chuohku.]

Nemu: *Onscreen* "Secretary Keiko Yumi, report to Chuohku HQ immediately. The Prime Minister requests your presence."

Keiko: *Shocked* The Prime Minister? Why me?

[Standing from her desk, a mix of nerves and duty were written on her face. Grabbing her coat and bag, her mind was racing with possibilities.]

Keiko: *To herself* This could change everything.

[The mangaka takes one last look at her dorm room, the walls adorned with her manga art and nursing textbooks, a testament to her dual life...]

To be continued...

Kaito Ushiro - An e-gamer, though not of the same caliber as Nikki. He enjoys playing video games, as he connected with them better than he did with people, much like Nikki. He calls himself "NebulaStrike".

#hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic oc #hypnosis microphone #keiko yumi #criss hiromi #nikki yoshie #akihabara division #otaku corps #drama track

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foxfirekit · 9 months

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TOA Anniversary Munday!

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

Tagging: You. Right there. Yes, you.

Name: Sekhmet

Pronouns: she/her

Birthday (no year): 1st September

Where are you from? What is your time zone? Australia! Timezone is AEST (which means it is Tuesday for me not Monday kek)

Roleplay experience: I have been doing some form of roleplay, on an off, for nearly 13 years. I have good memories, and the Horrors(tm). I have spaces I will never return to, and now two RP homes ^^

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Got any pets? TT^TT Not anymore

Favorite time of year: Spring! Not too hot, not too cold and it's heading away from Winter!

Some interests and things you like: Writing, art, reading, video games, Dungeons and Dragons, teaching!

Some funfacts & trivia about you: When I was in grade 8, during woodworking, I was probably the most accident prone student much to my teacher's horror. I managed to be attacked by the tools every single lesson. Including being attacked by the belt sander, I still have the scar from that. A more fun fact - I have an animation degree! I spent three years of my life learning and specialising in the art of animation! And then I became a teacher XD

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? There are a lot but from the ones I play the most - World of Warcraft, Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy 7, 13, 14 and 15, Pokemon, Hades, Sims 4 if I'm feeling it, Splatoon, Tales of Series games

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: I don't really have a favourite type, cause I like Pokemon by design, but my favourite pokemon would be Dragonair, followed closely by Victini, Snivy evolution line, Popplio evolution line, Umbreon, and Joltik.

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How did you get into Fire Emblem? Uhh... I found a ROM on the internet one day.... *coughs*

What Fire Emblem games have you played? Shadow Dragon (unfinished), Blazing Blade (unfinished), Sacred Stones (unfinished), Awakening (finished), Fates (finished), Shadows of Valentia (unfinished), Three Houses (finished), Three Hopes (unfinished), Warriors (finished), Heroes (uninstalled and disowned)

First Fire Emblem game: Blazing Blade

Favorite Fire Emblem game: Awakening!

Any Fire Emblem crushes? *coughs* Matt Mercer's characters *coughs* (coincidentally too! Their personalities are just amazing <3) Chrom and Shigure! And also beloved street rat Yuri

If you’ve played the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays? - Awakening: First - Chrom, now - still Chrom - Fates: First - I honestly don't remember lol, now - Shigure or Nishiki/Kaden - Three Houses: First - incedentally enough, Edelgard, because of who I named Byleth after and I thought the match was funny. It would have been Seteth if Seteth had been available on Crimson Flower!!! Now though - Yuri. - Engage: n/a

Favorite Fire Emblem class: Witch

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class? .... Witch!

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? ....... Ashen Wolves/Abyss honestly. The AU Sothis followers I made would be how I'd interact with the world and the faith in the goddess, and that would very likely get me called a heretic.

If you were an Engage character, which Emblem would you Engage with? .... I don't know how Engage works XD

---

How did you find TOA? Rua told me! And then dragged me over cause I was trying to make an indie blog, and then I decided to apply instead of lurking like a cryptid.

Current TOA muses: Kinu (Selkie) and Seteth

Who was your first TOA muse? If you don’t have them anymore, could you see yourself picking them up again? Cordelia. Would I pick her up again? Maybe, though she would also be the first I dropped again if I decided to entertain another muse

Have you had any other TOA muses? Not .... yet

Do you think you have a type of character you gravitate towards? Chaotic type muses or serious and eloquently spoken muses - the two halves of my personality!

What do you believe you enjoy writing the most? Angst, writing emotionally deep stuff that makes people scream at me because of the feels I stabbed them with.

Favorite TOA-related memory: When Seteth immediately got bullied after I picked him up XD Please bully him more

How do you pronounce TOA? Tales of the Abyss *cough* Tee-Oh-Ay

Got any delusions that didn’t see the light of day that you’d like to share? A few....! Yuri, Shigure... Veronica or Thrasir... Shareena... The Twins from Warriors.... Mikoto... Takumi... The Rainbow Sage lives in my head rent free, silly old grandpa dragon that he is... Sitri through a lot of convoluted means.... Silque....

#[ooc]#month: july 2023 #toa anniversary

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skystarry75 · 2 years

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Double Life SMP First Session Ending Drabbles pt.1!

Yes, I’m splitting it. Not happy with some of the couples paragraphs yet, so you get the divorcees first! Obviously there’s gonna be angst. Also Pearl’s is so long it’s 2 paragraphs. Don’t blame me! She just needed 2 paragraphs!

Scott

Scott has returned to his house, having said goodnight to Cleo. His brows are furrowed as he sits on the edge of his bed, the look on Pearl's face as he rejected her still clings to his mind. He can't help but think of their time in Last Life, or of the time he spent with Jimmy in 3rd Life. His bed feels cold and empty now as he wonders how Jimmy is doing with his soulmate. If only he'd gotten a sensible soulmate, someone like Cleo, and not someone who ran into danger like Pearl did.

Cleo

Cleo growls, annoyed at the world. Martyn had put their shared life in danger multiple times, hurting her and forcing her to use up her food much faster. Of course she'd be paired with the one whose idea it was to go to the Nether, to fight dangerous creatures like blazes and hoglins. She almost would've preferred Pearl, if it weren't for the fact that she decided to follow him. Hopefully he's smart enough to have found shelter for the night. She's not counting on it though, and she keeps a supply of food nearby in case they start dying.

Martyn

Martyn sits in a little camp he's made, a little ways from Spawn. He stares into the campfire as he contemplates what to do, since his soulmate has rejected him. He wonders if Ren would take him in, or if he'd prefer to be alone with his soulmate. He feels a little guilty, leaving Pearl on her own like that. She'd obviously been very distressed by the rejection of her own soulmate and previous ally. Still, he doesn't want to deal with whatever baggage the girl has. He knows that any alliance he makes will be temporary, and he needs to decide his next move carefully.

Pearl

Pearl is still sitting under the trees at spawn. She spent most of the afternoon crying, crushed by the rejection of her soulmate. He's not just her soulmate though. He was her friend, the man she'd spent Last Life with, who she'd given one of her lives to, who she had worked with to reach the final session. And now he wants nothing to do with her, even though they're soulmates and they share lives and health and can feel each other's pain.

She's lucky someone seems to have lit up the area, and she makes herself a camp there just after sunset. As she lies awake under the stars, trying to sleep and forget the weight of rejection on her chest, her dog nuzzles up to her. It stares at her, the light of the moon reflecting in it's puppy-dog eyes. She can't help but grin at her sweet little pet, the soft fur and gentle pressure the dog provides calming her down. She yawns, pulling her pup into a comforting cuddle, the fluffy creature happily obliging. "Good dog" she murmurs as she feels herself begin to drift, a bittersweet smile gracing her face as she falls asleep.

#Double Life SMP #scott smajor #double life scott #zombiecleo #double life cleo #inthelittlewood #double life martyn #pearlescentmoon #double life pearl #angst #double life divorcees #double life drabbles #double life brainrot #I don't usually write this much

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lovecinnatwist · 2 years

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omegaverse au you say? say no more! (mind immediately goes blank)

it's 15 minutes later and I still can't come up with an au, but I do have a nsfw prompt

what about some nice sweet omega/omega fisting? Tim has a huge size kink but most alpha knots don't quite hit the spot. At some point he noticed the size of Jason's hands and now he can't stop thinking about them

Could either still be in the Tim fantasizing stage or the fulfillment!

BRO your brain is beautiful WDYM

This got Way out of hand but I hope you enjoy!

JayTim NSFW omegaverse ahoy, Slight mommy kink, definite size kink and lots of soft heat care!

Jason has huge hands.

Big sturdy reliable ones that grasp the world fearlessly without even a moment of doubt. Tim stares at the roughness of each finger. Lost in the imaginary texture of the callous from years of training and mastering every and all weapons possible. Breath hitching at the light paper cuts, and burns from reading classics and baking with Alfred.

It’s too much and not enough. Especially now as he’s lost in heat. Constantly imaging those hands in his soaking eager cunt.

The entire den smells sweet like calm omega dam. Maternal and gentle in a way Jason can’t help being with the pack, and for now it’s all for Tim. There’s a safety that comes from spending his heats here that he’s never had anywhere else. Not under the care of Super Boy, not under the watchful eye of Batman and certainly not in any of those expensive facilities his parents would pay for.

This is different. This is special. Perhaps it’s because he knows Jason would kill for him or maybe it’s because the omega is his first and only love. Everything he’s ever strived to be- everything he’s ever wanted- all close and warm and his side in tender care that sets his heart a blaze.

The omega comes over with a bowl of jello. There’s little fruit pieces from the fruit cocktail he put in, sweet condense milk all over the tasty snack. The bowl is tiny in Jason’s hands. The spoon laughable in his delicate grasp. Tim almost mourns to take it from him. Though the brief brush of their fingers make’s him tingle down to his toes.

“ You alright there baby bird?”

Tim nods wordlessly, no longer trusting his stupid mouth to speak. It’s bad enough he’s purring. All that he is leans into Jason’s touch and the Pack omega offers it willingly. Those large diligent hands pet through sweaty locks. The calouses catching on each messy strand. Like this Tim feels the difference of their size. The way each pet comes with strength and power that contrasts beautifully with the tender care.

His thighs grow damp, slick making a mess of the shared den. Jason has made the nest for them in his personal bedroom. The entire place thick with the omegas fertile motherly scent. Tim whines like a pup from the touch.

Though instead of scoffing and scolding Jason brings Tim closer to his plush chest.

With smooth steady movements Jason’s warm large hand cups around the back of his neck. Squeezing hard in a way a mother does to soothe their pup. Tim melts against the contact, mind going blissfully soft around the edges. Like this he makes note of the way each of Jason’s fingers feel against the sweaty skin of his neck. The way the rough pads send jolts of pleasure down to his slick, hot cunt.

The toy inside of him is useless, small a petite for ‘ young omega’ Tim had preened at recieving a gift from his pack omega. Though the moment he notices the size of the knot and toy he finds himself loathing the way the artificial bulge can’t compete with Jason’s fist.

He whines pitifully but the Jason only cooes- taking away the bowl of jello to feed him in easy movements. Tim licks up the attention and care eagerly. All while between his legs becomes harder and harder to ignore. There’s a spill, not much but Jason swipes it up with his fingers without complaint.

Each thick digit sinks between plump pinks lips, the omega’s tongue lapping up cream and gelatin with a gleeful sound. Tim whines again, this time more insistent and hungry. He can’t pull his eyes from the way Jason’s hand effortlessly spans over his jaw. The way the knucks bulge from where the skin has healed over and over. The neatness of his nails and cuticals. Tim wants so badly he doesn’t realize the broken little whimpers he’s letting out is setting Jason’s instincts haywire.

The omega scoops him up with his massive hands, pulling his trembling body over the meaty thighs. Jason smells like nothing but omega sweetness and sympathy. No where near the frustrated burning scent of arousal Tim himself in letting off. He doesn’t even know what to say so instead he buries his wet face into Jason’s shoulder and inhales the maternal bond that stretches so effortlessly between them.

“ It’s okay sweet heart. It’s ok. “

Jason drags his palm down Tim’s back in firm calming strokes. Tim leans into the touch back burning as it spans over his entire shoulder blade. It should be a calming, gentle touch to settle him but all it does is remind Tim how much he wants to be full of Jason’s huge fist.

He rocks his aching cunt against Jason’s thigh. It’s a small motion- more an accident than anything, but the feeling of pleasure from his clit up against his omega mother makes him bite off a whine. Jason says nothing. He just keeps petting and touching Jason with his huge hands, leaving heat everywhere he caresses. Tim bites his lips hard to hold back his sounds.

Timid and careful he grinds again, discreetly moving his hips to melt into pleasure.

Even without the swell of heat it would be easy to get off now. With Jason touching him it’s even easier. He pants against Jason, all while the omegas larger body keeps him safe and protected from the outside would, wrapping him up in the scent of protective pack mate and maternal bond.

He whimpers, thighs quivering as orgasm gets closer.

Perhaps if he had been paying more attention he would notice that those large hands have taken residence on his hips. Spanning over his waist, and once cupping his ass and enouraging his now greedy wild motions.

“There you go Tim. Don’t worry Ma’s got you, take what you need.”

Tim lets out a pathetic plea into the pack omegas embrace. Cunt fluttering around nothing. He squeezes tightly begging for something to fill him- even if it’s only the measly toy Jason got him. He reaches for Jason’s hand wrapping both hands around and squeezing tight like his cunt is starting too. The locking is painful without the stretch of a knot but that doesn’t stop the orgasm from knocking the breath out of him.

Tim whines through his orgasm, voice high and reedy from the sensations. Jason holds him through it, keeping him tight against his thigh, his clit pulsing from pleasure. The scent of proud happy omega warms over the den, blanketing Tim his his hazy post orgasm bliss.

“ There you go Timmy. So pretty for me. “

The embarrassment from the compliment makes him want to hide. Jason refuses to let him though. Instead the older omega takes in his state, peeling off his damp sleep pants and reveal his puffy unhappy cunt. With tender care, those huge hands take the damp rag on the bedside table and wipes him down.

Tim jerks immediately, still sensitive and horny. The actual sight of Jason’s massive hands between his thighs make him jolt. There’s another touch with the rag, this one lingering as the huge palm cups his cunt effortlessly.

“Please-”

He begs for it desperately, body still hot and feverish. Jason smiles with a softness that is only ever for him. It’s sweet and open, a gorgeous complement from the deliberate way his thick thumb parts his wet folds.

Then all too soon, its over and Tim is being bundled up for a brief nap.

So he doesn’t get what he wants but he does get cuddled in the large, cozy nest.

Here, safe in Jason’s arms Tim can’t help letting his mind wander. He is loose enough from his toy that he could handle that thick thumb for sure. The slide would be delicious and draw a long moan from his very core. Jason would pump the digit in and out with care before adding another, the next two sinking deep into his hungry cunt.

The stretch would be divine. It would push him further and further past his limits until he would lock on the omega’s wrist and squirt all over it. His cunt would be wide open for his omega. Plugged and secure to keep in all the slick making a mess between his thighs. Jason’s first probably would feel perfect. Each time he would flex and roll the fingers inside him it would feel like a knot pumping cum into his fertile body.

Filling him up with his omegas love and affection.

The idea makes him moan, Jason’s large hand over his back and he slowly drifts in his fantasy.

In fact he’s so happy and sleepy he doesn’t even notice Jason looking at his own delicate fingers as he brings himself to quick efficient orgasm. Though the scent of happy omega wraps around him like a promise.

Then there is a repeat performance in the morning and a duet in the shower.

#JayTim #Omegaverse #Omega!Jason #Omega!Tim #There are lesbians your honor #also in love #Ficlet

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cloudbattrolls · 11 months

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Make Of Me

Thrixe Varzim | Present Night | The Ruins of An Unnamed Forest

Thrixe beheld the ashy ruins of what had once been a forest, blackened stumps and scorched piles of leaves, exposed rocks dusted with ash. He was the only troll - person - for a mile, he was pretty sure; he couldn’t sense anyone else.

Archimedes hid behind his legs, hissing.

Though in most respects a normal gryphon, the pet he’d made shared his sensitivity to the state of growth in the world around them. They could both feel that this forest hadn’t been destroyed by any natural blaze; it confirmed what he had heard.

That someone called the Torch had razed it.

Some forests did need fire to grow. Yarrow loved burned earth; some seeds only germinated after a fire, and sometimes dead growth needed to be cleared so new life could thrive.

This forest, however, had been young. Not ready to feed an inferno yet.

Torch, he thought with slightly morbid amusement. You ruined this place. But I guess I should thank you. Overgrowing an existing ecosystem is bad for everyone. This, though…

Thrixe walked into the first space between the stumps, and he began to sing.

“I’m…made of bones of the branches the boughs and the bough beating light..”

First; the soil. Nothing could grow without a strong base, nutrients and insects to make a living system again. He reached deep into the earth with his power, feeling out the survivors, tempting them back to the dirt near the surface.

Bacteria and insects thrived again, buried eggs hatching, crawling and wriggling through the earth, and he nudged the nitrogen to begin replenishing.

Then the air itself. It still had traces of smoke; he had altered his lungs slightly to cope with it better, growing a temporary skin-shield over his gills.

He sprouted tendrils weaving into the air, absorbing the toxins and fostering the oxygen, cilia sprouting to filter it and catch particulates dangerous to life. He grew more out of the few remaining microorganisms in the air, using their life as a base for his own, clearing away the acrid smell and tainted gases.

Eyes glowing a bright violet-white, he took a breath.

“Well my feet are the trunks…”

He reached for the roots, shriveled and starved of nutrients - the ones that were still alive - and he regenerated them, encouraging new growth. Not too much - he didn’t want the restored trees to crowd each other out, to have no room to grow further.

He was setting the place back on its course, not allowing it to rapidly choke out again.

Tendrils extended from his legs into the earth, tilling it, taking dead plant and animal matter and turning it to rich compost that he fed directly to the new roots he made. He extended several feet underground and into the air now with his gleaming pink and violet network, further using the existing life to spread himself.

He smiled a wide, slightly jagged smile in giddy in anticipation.

From the mouths of his many extensions he continued:

“And my head is the canopy high!”

The trees burst back into growth with a creaking and crackling of wood and sap, a thunderous cacophony as they went from withered to blooming, shedding their ashy skin for fresh bark and flowers. Stumps became fertile, springing up with mosses and lichens. Small plants pushed through the ground.

As the trees settled, their new wood hot from the change that had sprung it into being, they blinked with scattered violet eyes, woven through with veins of grayish pink. Starfish tendrils rippled among the soil, spines dotting the leaves of the underbrush.

“And my fingers extend to the leaves in the eaves, and the -“

Thrixe as the forest breathed, felt the moons on himself, rustled in the breeze…and with a choir of content sighs, took himself out of the plants, let them fade fully back to their natural selves. His extensions faded to nothing, and he had only one body again.

A bit sad, just the one. It was fine! He had nothing against it, it was the one everyone knew him by. The one he always had to appear in for everyone but Zanzul.

Or Vallis, but Vallis hardly counted as company, he thought with a roll of his eyes.

Archimedes had already taken off, no doubt hunting some small animal. He hadn’t raised anything from the dead…but it had been tempting. He was a bit tired, though. It wouldn’t be good to push himself.

Thrixe flopped on his back, lying on the newly grassy ground.

“Brightest shine, it’s my shine…” he finished the verse softly, looking at some ivy and marigolds that still glowed faintly pale violet.

He couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it. Didn’t he sign his works as a painter? It didn’t hurt to leave a small trace of himself behind, not enough to interfere with the forest life.

No one would ever know it was him, that’s what mattered. No troll he loved would ever know what he could be like, as long as he let it out safely and away from their sight.

A bug crawled on his left fin and it flicked involuntarily, tickled by the tiny feet. The skin-shield over his gills had since dissolved, and they shone violet, rippling slightly.

Yes, he could show small parts of himself, if trolls were all right with it. But he had to ask first, had to be careful.

He looked at his black-tipped claws, which had been that way for a while, and he was fairly certain extra fins were coming in on his arms and legs as well. No, he wasn’t the only seadweller with such things, but he wondered how much else he had to grow.

Uryali had had tendrils in his fins, and permanent extra eyes…he definitely didn’t want those. Maybe there was a way to at least choose which traits he got, since the process was probably impossible to stop entirely.

He got up, shaking dirt out of his curly braid, and looked back at his work. This place should thrive now, he hoped.

Archimedes flew back to Thrixe, and he hugged his furry, feathery pet before letting him go to fly alongside him.

He walked away, leaving the forest to flourish once more.

#cloud writes #I actually had the idea for this months ago but only now finished it. even though it's not all that long #thrixe varzim #horrifying man. but at least he wants to use his powers responsibly #song he sings is the queen's rebuke by the decemberists #Torch is Platar btw he belongs to Lard

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rwbyvein · 2 years

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Firen Lhain: Chapter 1111: Kith: Part II / III

Blake and Yang lay on the top of the guardhouse as they looked at the stars. Blake's ears focused off to the side and Ilia decloaked. "Want to join our cuddle fest?" Yang asked, and Ilia nodded. She moved over and snuggled in with the others.

* * *

Ren jumped off of Pwyll from behind Jaune. Jaune jumped off and Nora landed. Jaune turned to the Cheval Knights. "Did you want to come with me?" Rhiannon looked around nervously while Pwyll looked down for a moment. He then stood up proudly, and snorted affirmatively. "Yes." Rhiannon said, with forced confidence.

"Just don't wander off." Jaune said to her, and turned to Pwyll to pet him.

* * *

Jaune walked through the dark woods with Pwyll right behind him. Behind Pwyll was Nora, behind Nora, Rhiannon, and behind Rhiannon was Ren, taking up the rear.

"So?" Nora asked, "What are we doing?"

Jaune stopped, causing everyone else to stop. He then turned to look at her, "You're asking now?"

Nora shrugged, "Why wouldn't I come?"

"I don't know?" Jaune asked, "Nightfall?"

"Psh." Nora stated.

"You probably can't see a few feet in front of your face?" Jaune asked.

"Psh." Nora replied.

"At the very least, I can see you all." Ren stated.

Jaune shrugged, "And I don't really know. I felt, something."

"In your antlers?" Nora asked.

"Yes?" Jaune replied, and turned back into the woods.

* * *

Weiss and Penthesilea sat on a couch with Ruby and Ciel on another. "We have had quite a bit of excitement." Weiss exhaled, and Ruby looked about nervously. Weiss then looked at Ciel, "But you seem to be settling in."

"Indeed." Ciel stated. "I have developed a routine. I have my delineated responsibilities, and simply need to organize by priority. My fears about lack of training have proven to be for naught, as I have never been unable to find a sparring opponent."

Penthesilea looked at her brilliantly, "I am so proud of you."

"Pardon?" Ciel asked.

"Not too long ago, you were just as shy as I was. Now you have friends, your own destiny."

"Pardon?" Ciel asked, "But if I have a destiny, it is not my own."

"Destinies are made with your own hands." Penthsilea stated, "And are best when shared with friends."

"Indeed?" Ciel asked, "This would explain a great deal."

"I suppose our destinies are intertwined." Weiss voiced, and Ruby looked about nervously. "I still remember how callow I was when first entering Beacon?"

"Shallow?" Ruby asked, "Wait, I mean?.." she asked, and then hid in her hood.

"Immature." Weiss stated, "Unfeathered." This caused Ruby to snicker and her head barely reappeared from her hood. "I thought it was myself against the world. That the world owed me."

"What?" Ruby asked.

Weiss breathed in and sighed. "I don't know... But now, the only thing I want is for my family to be safe. I no longer care to blaze my name into the history books."

"Now you can do it with Jaune's." Ruby stated.

"That... was not..." Weiss voiced, "My point was..." she said, and breathed in.

"She no longer wants to." Penthesilea stated, "Neither Schnee nor Arc."

"At this point, the name of Arc Nouveau will indelibly be carried on." Ciel stated.

"But, we no longer need to." Penthesilea stated.

"Ah." Ciel replied, "Why?"

"Because I have those I love with all my heart and soul." Weiss replied, and Ciel simply looked distant.

* * *

Blake instantly jumped into the night, the other two sitting up to see what she was staring it. It was as dark as the night, but they could see a form, a blackness against the night. The lines they could glimpse as it moved, and it's motions proved it to be feline in shape.

"I am the Umbral Jaguar of Night!" it exclaimed, "You have seen my kindred, and been blessed by them. I grant she whom shares my image the blessing of night."

Blake curled up for a moment before arching her back like a cat.

"You, uh?" Yang asked, and Blake nodded.

* * *

"Dark form in the woods." the woods bellowed, and the form of the Black Hart formed. "Intruiging. You have encountered my kindred, and been blessed by them. I am in awe, for perhaps the first time in my existence. I cannot allow myself to fall behind my kin, to be made lesser, and as such, I gift upon you the kingship of the woods."

Jaune's antlers were enveloped in darkness as the Black Hart disappeared.

* * *

Jaune rode Pwyll up the hill, with Ren holding on behind him and Rhiannon running alongside.

* * *

Jaune pulled on Pwyll's reins to come to a stop by the lambs. The ram baaed at him. Nora landed next to the llama and hugged her. "I love you." Nora said, and turned to Jaune, "Oh, wait, she's needs a name?" Nora asked.

Jaune just shrugged in reply, hoping Nora would come up with one on her own, but just eagerly stared at him. "Uh?" Jaune asked, and looked at the llama, "Polyxena?"

"You hear that?" Nora asked the llama, whom simply looked at her, "You're Polyxena?!" she eagerly asked. The llama didn't seem to be interested, either way.

Jaune then looked around, "Where's Conan?" he asked.

"Right here!" he heard shouted, with Conan standing up.

"How has everyone been doing?" Jaune asked.

"The lambs are lambs. They're all young, and not from the same herd, but they're really grown close."

"And the Hildes?" Jaune asked.

"I was hoping you would ask about that!" Conan shouted in reply, "They kind of miss you." he said, and Hildegard gave him an annoyed snort, "They did come here to teach people to ride, and then you up and ran away on them."

"I'm sorry!" Jaune shouted.

"They know why you had to leave." Rhiannon said to him.

"I can still be sorry." Jaune said to her, and looked back at the horses. "Sorry!" he shouted. He then turned to Conan, "You having any problems out here?!"

"Not rightly so." Conan stated, "But your sisters are a little tired of carrying all of the water."

"We should perhaps do something about that?" Ren asked.

"Pipes would definitely freeze over right now." Jaune stated.

"Unless they were below the frost line." Ren simply stated, and Jaune looked pensive.

"Pardon, master?" Rhiannon nervously asked.

"Yes?" he asked her.

"But, we could?.." she asked, and Pwyll harshly snorted. "I'm getting to that." Rhiannon said to him, and raised her head to Jaune, "We would love to carry the water for the sheep."

"Sheep!" Nora exclaimed, appearing beside them.

"Where's your new friend?" Jaune asked, and Polyxena quickly walked up.

"That would certainly work for a while." Jaune said, "But what about if we ever take you guys somewhere?"

"You'd take us somewhere?!" Rhiannon eagerly asked, while Pwyll nervously snorted. Jaune petted his mane.

"Of course we would." Jaune said to them. "We keep getting distracted, but you are our horses."

The two Cheval Knights looked nervous, "Why do people have horses?" Ren asked.

Rhiannon just stared at him a moment before Pwyll whinnied. "To ride?" Rhiannon asked.

"To travel." Ren said with a warm smile.

Pwyll snorted nervously. "But, your airship?" Rhiannon asked.

"Which one am I petting?" Jaune asked, as he petted Pwyll's head.

* * *

Taj sat in the pilot seat of the Cloud of Hope, petting the console.

* * *

"If plumbing will not work in the winter, and the Chevals are only good until we travel somwhere with them?" Ren asked, and the others looked at him, "Then perhaps an aquaduct?"

Jaune looked at him with awe.

"Can we help build it?!" Rhiannon eagerly asked.

"You know what?" Jaune asked, "Yeah."

"I apologize if my..." she said more calmly, until her eyes opened widely, "pardon?"

"He said you can help." Nora eagerly added as Polyxena snuggled up to her. In reply, Nora wrapped her wing around her.

* * *

The all of Arc Nouveau and the Sisters Three sat around the breakfast table. Jaune stood up and drummed on the table. "I'd like to take a moment to thank the sisters-three for helping us with the sheep."

"Lambs." Ren stated.

"Lambs." Jaune corrected.

Sophia looked down shyly. Summer looked at him warmly. Shantae augustly stood up.

"Thank you." Jaune said to her, and she blushed. "That said, we need a more permanent solution to watering the sheep, when most of us are away." Sarah nervously raised her hand. "I appreciate that, but how many trips would it take?"

"Oh, um, a dozen?" Sarah asked, "A baker's dozen?"

"If we build an aquaduct, you'd just have to..."

"Aquaduct?" Ruby asked.

"Like the ancient, whatever?" Yang added.

"Exactly." Jaune stated.

"Why not a pipe, I mean?.." Ruby asked.

"It would freeze in the winter." Jaune replied, and then made exploding noises and hand-gestures.

"Would this not interfere with our, er, castle?" Ciel asked.

"Depends how big we make the hole." Jaune voiced, and made a small hole with his hands. "We'll need a tank that shows you how full it is."

"Because?" Weiss asked.

"So, you can see how much you are sending down the aquaduct." Jaune replied.

"Of course." Weiss simply stated.

"Can't your, uh, horses help?" Shantae asked.

"They did volunteer." Jaune stated, "But that wouldn't work if we take them anywhere."

"They are our horses." Weiss said with glee.

"Wait, what?" Yang asked, "You planning to use them to fight with?"

"Or travel." Jaune stated.

#rwby #firen lhain #faunus au #arc-en-ciel

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equestrianempire · 2 months

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Sweet Victory! Aaron Vale & Prescott Power to the Top in the $100,000 Mars Equestrian Grand Prix CSI 3*

Ocala, Florida, USA – March 02, 2024 – The WEC Grand Arena once again became the epicenter of thrilling international competition as spectators from near and far gathered at World Equestrian Center – Ocala to witness the highly anticipated $100,000 MARS Equestrian Grand Prix CSI 3*. An elite lineup of the world’s best Jumping athletes competed for the top prize, but it was Aaron Vale (USA) who clinched the well-deserved victory aboard Prescott (Lordanos x Bb Carvallo), owned by Thinkslikeahorse.

Catsy Cruz (MEX), an FEI Level III course designer, crafted the challenging tracks that allowed 11 duos to qualify for the jump-off.

Samantha Schaefer (USA) & James Bond HX

Anna Dryden (USA) and Gipsy Love set the initial pace in the jump-off, but Samantha Schaefer (USA) and Bonne Chane LLC’s James Bond HX (Douglas x Cash) blazed through, clocking in at 41.33 seconds to take the lead.

Daniel Coyle (IRL) came close to taking the win with a speedy performance aboard Ariel Grange’s Legacy, but had a heartbreaking rail, leaving the door open for Aaron Vale, determined to seize the win.

Aaron Vale (USA) & Prescott

At the sound of the tone, Vale and Prescott were off, “I really shaped out to fence one, and got the six done easily in the turn. We caught that nice enough I was able to get eight down to the next oxer, and I think everybody else did nine. Then he actually grabbed a shoe landing, and I wasn’t sure what was happening, but for three or four strides he was scrambling. By the time everything cleared, the next oxer was going to be really long, but I had to win the class, so I took it. Then I was able to be patient to the combination, and after we landed that, I could just let his speed do the rest.”

Molly Ashe Cawley (USA) & Loukas de La Noue

Molly Ashe Cawley (USA) and Oakridge Farm’s 13-year-old Belgian Warmblood gelding Loukas de La Noue (Malito de Reve x Mr Blue) clinched second place with a time of 39.96 seconds. Ashe Cawley praised the crowd at World Equestrian Center – Ocala, “Whenever I come here, I am always blown away by the crowd. They are always into it, and they really have become educated about the sport,” she shared. “I can’t thank MARS Equestrian and the Roberts family enough for what they’ve done for our sport. They’ve really made an impact with this incredible facility, and I think there is nothing but amazing things to come from it.”

Aaron Vale (USA) & Prescott during the awards ceremony

Bridgett McIntosh, Director of MARS Equestrian spoke about the thrilling night, “Congratulations and thank you to the athletes and four-legged friends for joining us on this spectacular evening of equestrian sport. We are so proud to be a Founding Partner of World Equestrian Center and this venue truly embodies our vision: to create a better world for horses, pets and people. Our love for animals and the sport is evident, and we sincerely appreciate the entire equestrian community’s essential role in making it all possible.”

Final Results – $100,000 MARS Equestrian Grand Prix CSI 3*

1) Aaron Vale (USA) & Prescott: 2012 Holsteiner gelding by Lordanos x Bb Carvallo, Thinkslikeahorse: 0 / 0 / 37.30

2) Molly Ashe Cawley (USA) & Loukas de La Noue: 2011 Belgian Warmblood gelding by Malito De Reve x Mr Blue, Oakridge Farm: 0 / 0 / 39.96

3) Samantha Schaefer (USA) & James Bond HX: 2014 KWPN gelding by Douglas x Cash, Bonne Chance LLC: 0 / 0 / 41.33

4) Summer Hill (USA) & Olympic van de Noordheuvel: 2014 Belgian Warmblood gelding by Zambesi Tn x Darco, Tal Milstein: 0/0/42.46

5) Caelinn Leahy (USA) & The Gray Man: 2008 KWPN gelding by Tjungske x Calando I, Steve Schaefer: 0 / 0 / 43.22

6) Anna Dryden (USA) & Gipsy Love: 2014 Warmblood mare by Guidam Sohn x L’esprit, Double Meadows Farm, LLC: 0/0/44.93

7) Daniel Coyle (IRL) & Legacy: 2010 Zangersheide mare by Chippendale Z x Bon Ami, Ariel Grange: 0 / 4 / 36.70

8) Lillie Keenan (USA) & Chili Pepper H M Z: 2015 Zangersheide stallion by Cornet Obolensky x Caretano Z, Chansonette Farm LLC: 0 / 4 / 40.84

9) Anna Dryden (USA) & Night van de KwakkelhoekNIGHT: 2013 Belgian Warmblood stallion by Jilbert Van’t Ruytershof, Double Meadows G LLC: 0 / 4 / 43.99

10) Lillie Keenan (USA) & Kick ON: 2014 Warmblood stallion by Warrior x Caretino Glory, Chansonette Farm LLC:0 / 4 / 45.51

11) Paul O’Shea (IRL) & Hellcat: 2011 Belgian Warmblood mare by Cassander Van Het Bremhof x Conan Team Eye Candy: 0/8/39.21

12) Aaron Vale (USA) & I. Adermie R 4: 2013 KWPN mare by Den Ham Blue R x Namelus R, Thinkslikeahorse: 4/69.76

Source: Press Release from the World Equestrian Center

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goddamnmuses · 5 months

Text

Just wanna share my sweet baby boy, my d&d character, Cloak of Clouds.

He's a Tabaxi Gloomstalker Ranger, Assassin Rogue and Battle Master Fighter. He's a mess but he's my precious baby boy. Long ass story under the cut for anyone actually interested.

Cloak's parents are essentially secret agents who work for an organisation that keeps the world safe. His father (Time of Moon) is currently retired and taking care of the family whilst Mom (Diamond Song) continues her job after having her break to have kids. Cloak has an older brother (Blazing Fire) and a younger sister (Sands of Silk).

One day whilst at the local market, an earthquake happened that shook the world and he barely managed to save his sister and get her home safe, his father and brother also made it home safe and his mother was on a mission at the time.

Some time later, news gets back to the family that Cloak's mother has gone missing on her assignment. Cloak set off to find his mother. Heading to her last known location. Meeting a Drow Paladin named Faetan, a Hobgoblin named Lak and a Half-Elf named Falneak along the way creating a group they call "The Nameless".

When getting to the location he learned of her assignment, to help protect a large magical gemstone that helps keep the continent stable. (there's 4 of them, one in the south, east, west and north, this ones the one in the east.). It's been a lot of sessions so I'm gonna gloss over some stuff but yeah. Eventually he finds his mother who's been kept by a vampire and made into it's pet. The group fight the vampire, free Cloaks mom and send her home but Cloak has vowed to help the group continue to ensure the safety of the crystals.

They travel to the South where they learn the Crystal there fell into the sea during the large quake that shook the world. They do however find a shard of the crystal which they take to the local authorities whom Faetan once was a member of, they lock the shard away and rest.

Before heading to the next Crystal there is a formal ball held that the group attends. The ball is also attended by a woman named Tide who seems to be after the shard. Deciding that this was possibly a distraction the group split and some head to check on the shard.

Tide gets away and when they get to the shard they find it has been drained of any magic it had. So they give chase to Tide eventually catching up with her and learning that she was actually there to try and prevent whatever or whoever drained the shard.

Tide (being a powerful wizard) then teleports the group to the the west where they meet the leader there named Zeriac, who will only let them get to the crystal once they have completed four trials. Each trial a test of abilities, brainpower and skills.

The group pass the trials and eventually get to the Crystal where it is revealed that this crystal was attacked and caused the quake. Faetan then speaks in a different voice as they approach the crystal and begin to drain it of it's magic, changing slowly into someone else. Revealing they had drained the shard and betraying the group.

Lak, Cloak and Falneak both attack the transforming Faetan but Cloak is knocked unconscious and almost killed and the remaining nameless are too late as the transformation is completed, Faetan's body becomes that of a Hag then that of a beautiful woman who teleports away.

Cloak comes to with physical wounds just as bad as the emotional ones from the betrayal.

And thats where the last session ended. (I obviously glossed over stuff and simplified things here but yeah)

#ooc #dnd story time i guess?

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a-valorant-effort · 3 years

Text

Slowly

Octane x Fem!Reader NSFT

My first Apex legends fic! Hope you like it!

There’s one thing Octavio has known all his life and that variable never seemed to change. Slow = boring, and he hated being bored. School was slow, good grades never came to him naturally because of his inability to sit still. Sleep is slow, Octavio never truly finding himself able to be lulled to sleep until he physically cannot stand anymore and opts to crash and burn. Even relationships were slow, having to get to know someone over a period of time before being able to enjoy their presence. The only reason he warmed up to Ajay was because they were practically forced to be friends.

And yet... here he was... frozen.

You were something Octavio, objectively, would HATE. You lived your life one step at a time. As a legend, you chose to have strategical and thought out approaches rather than going in guns blazing. As a person, you took the time to sit down and get to know almost all of the legends, ranging from Mirage’s flirtatious remarks to Caustics long and stale talk about respiratory diseases and their affect on the human lifespan.

What an awful way to live, Octavio thought.

That is... until he was the one you took the time to get to know. One thing Octavio noticed about you is that you could keep up. No matter the distance, you would always be by his side or at a close second. He didn’t expect this, but the dynamic of a methodical planner and a hyperactive stuntman made a pretty good team. He grew fond of the way you could understand him to a level that Octavio didn’t think anyone else could. You were his rock, the sponge to soak up all the water, the one he could share his mind with without having to worry about scaring you off or going too fast. Because, when Octavio thought about it, you made him slow down and get to know you. Weird how that works.

So here you are, laying beneath him, nothing but your bra and underwear on, staring straight at Octavio with a lustful expression. Octavio hung above you with his arms propping himself up by the sides of your head. His heart was practically about to run a lap around his body and jump out of his throat. He couldn’t stop looking at your eyes, the way they pleaded and begged for something that he knew you were too afraid to ask.

Please, go slowly.

Octavio shifted his weight to one arm, leaving the free one to trail down your body and stop over your clothed clit and start palming it gently. The sound that came from your lips was downright sinful. He could feel your legs slightly squirm underneath him as he pulled the panties down and off of you. Sitting up now, he held your hips in place, and looked up at you.

“Is this ok?”

You’re face turned redder, if that was even possible, the blush reaching the tips of your ears now. You nodded and squeezed your eyes shut, expecting Octavio to leap on you like you were a canary in a cat’s bed. Octavio, however, gently lowered his tongue between the folds and brushed slow, steady circles around your clit. Your thighs shook and found their place around Octavio‘s neck, where he gently rubbed his hands along the sides of. He felt like he was in a trance, but not in a bad way. Octavio is a fast paced human, eager to get things done as soon as he starts them, but he could be tucked in between your thighs forever and never complain once. His pace never changed, the steady circles with the up and down motion while listening to your sweet moans made it all ok.

“Ah, T-Tavi please.” He looked up at your blissed out expression and thought that he had died, face to face with an angel. Your mouth was slightly agape, pupils of your eyes blown wide, and a dusted pink spread across your cheeks. God, he was fucked wasn’t he?

Octavio did something out of character. He didn’t increase his pace, he didn’t chase your high like he oh so desperately chased his during the games. He didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t want to stop hearing you mewl and cry at each differing movement. He would edge you out as long as he could.

“P-Please Tavi, I- I’m so—,” You couldn’t even finish your sentence. Octavio flicked his tongue up and you gushed around him, a moaning mess. He worked his tongue through your orgasm as you carded your fingers through his dark hair. Eventually, he stopped, and pulled himself up where his chin rested on your chest.

“How do you feel, mi alma?” You smiled at the pet name, and held Octavio’s face in between your hands, gingerly stroking his cheeks.

“Good.” Your voice was barley a whisper, and Octavio leaned up to kiss you, his clothed erection rubbing on your sensitive clit. You moaned into his kiss, and Octavio felt his world shake. He wanted so much more. His arms snaked behind you and un clipped your bra. Instinctively, your arms flung around your torso, trying to cover yourself as much as possible.

“Tan tímida, mi alma. ¿Por qué te escondes de mí? Eres hermosa.” You couldn’t understand, but you didn’t need to, Octavio pulled your arms to his neck and slid the thin straps off of your shoulders. He stared. You were as perfect as he envisioned you. He leaned in to kiss you and, in this moment, both of your hearts were thumping out of control.

You were getting restless, he could tell. You pulled at the waistband of his boxers, attempting to slide them off of him. Octavio understood, picking himself up so you could slide them off with ease. His erection sprung out, dripping little drops of precum on your stomach. He lined up, and looked you in the eye.

“You tell me it’s too much and I’ll stop, I promise. Okay? I’ll stop. I won’t get mad or upset with you, I want you to be happy. This is all for you. I would never hurt you. I know I do stupid shit a lot of the time but I would never ever—,”

You stopped his rambling by giving him a kiss, and, Octavio pushed himself up into you. You cried out in his mouth, he eased you into it by running his hands along your chest. “Ay dío...” Once Octavio was all the way in, he could feel you squeezing and pulsing around him. So needy. He wouldn’t last long, so he was going to drag this out as much as he could.

Giving you a second to adjust, Octavio slowly pumped himself in and out. Trying to keep himself steady even though his limbs felt like jelly. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. A wet, hot, moaning mess, your hands came to his hair and held them tightly.

“Mi tesoro, mi vida, mi todo.” Octavio whispered into your neck, softly nibbling at the spots that made you whine. “Detendría el mundo por ti.” He thrusted again, and hit a soft spot of flesh in you. “Fuck! There?”

You nodded frantically, holding onto him like it was the last thing you would ever do. The moans and cries never ceasing. God, your whole apartment complex could probably hear you. Who cares, you look so good to him, so fragile and precious.

“Dios, fuck.” Octavio rose a hand to play with your nipples. “Do you like it?”

You nodded your head again, but Octavio wasn’t satisfied.

“Por favor amour, I... fuck, I-I need to hear you say it. Say something, ngh— anything.”

You could barley form a sentence, babbling and moaning, but you pulled yourself up to his ear and spoke.

“Please.” A whisper, but still a request.

“Por favor? What? What do you want? Anything. Anything at all.” Octavio’s words were frantic.

“Please, Tavi. Tavi please please please.” The word sounded unnatural at this point.

“Tus palabras, mi amour. Your words.”

“Faster, oh god, faster. Please. Tavi faster.” You turned away from him, embarrassed at the request.

It’s like he was just jammed with his stim. There was no high like this one, no high like you. Octavio pulled himself almost all the way out, the tip being the only thing still inside, and then mercilessly slamming back into you, quickening his pace. He could feel you move underneath him, your hips sliding back and forth as if you were moving with him.

You would always keep up, wouldn’t you?

“Ah, yes! Feels good. Mmmh, god, fuck.” Your hands cupped Octavio’s face, trying to keep yourself steady. You were hungry, chasing your high. One of your hands came to your chest to play with your own breasts. Octavio noticed, and brought one of his hands to the bud of your clit and started rubbing fast. You were almost screaming. “I can’t— I’m so— I-,”

You came, hard, squeezing the flesh of Octavio’s dick with your own. A small squirt came from you and sprayed against Octavio’s abdomen. He worked himself through your orgasm, watching every expression on your face as your body tried to understand how to feel, or what to do. In a fit of bliss, you cried out for him.

“My Tavi...”

Octavio groaned. He grabbed your hips and held them in place as he reached his high. He half hoped it didn’t hurt you, but also half hoped it would leave a mark. His cum nestling inside of you, everything Octavio could possibly think about was just you.

He pulled out, after so long of just panting and staring. Octavio collapsed on the bed beside you, and curled himself around your body.

“Are you okay?” Octavio traced the curve of your hips, trying to feel out a bruise.

You laughed. “Better than okay.” Flipping over and meeting his eyes, you cupped his face and gave him a passionate kiss. “You’re too good to me Octavio.”

Octavio laughed, your faces so close together it seemed like your breaths were one with each other. “It’s not my fault I’ve got someone so beautiful next to me.”

Gently pulling the covers over you, Octavio held you closer to him and felt your head tuck into the crook of his neck, legs twisted together, with his hands gently running up and down your back.

“Goodnight, mi alma. I love you.” Octavio hummed.

“I love you too Tavi. Goodnight.” You brought your hands up to his hair, your nails gently scratching at his scalp. “Hey, Tavi?”

“Hm?”

“What were you saying earlier? In Spanish.”

Octavio smiled. “Those words may be about you, but they’re for me right now. I will teach you someday.”

“Boo.” You wanted to protest, but were simply too tired to care anymore.

Octavio kissed your forehead. “Te enseñaré un día, cuando pueda llamarte mi esposa.” For now, though, he’ll take it slow.

#cassy gets nasty #octane #apex legends #apex legends x reader #apex legends octane #octavio silva #octavio silva x reader #octane x reader #nsft

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rare-yanderes · 3 years

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Hello, I read your post about yandere ai and I liked it, any chance you write something about A. M. from I have no mouth and I must scream? I really would love to read that

TW for violence, torture, all sorts of stuff like that (its AM, people,)

Oh man was this something to write. I admit it was difficult coming up with a way to make AM a yandere because he’s just an unfathomable singularity of pure hatred. So much of this is actually AM flipping out at first tbh haha.

You’re my first ever request so I hope I did good because I’m honestly kinda shy af rn and my writing isn’t perfect. I hope these AM headcannons please you regardless because I’m still new here and honing my skills. Forgive me for my sins.

•••••••

•So basically, it would take a special person to make AM twist like this, and so very special you were. Apathetic to the destruction of everything, apathetic to the torture. Apathetic to the games. You already experienced the worst when you lost literally everything you’d known or cared about in the war.

•AM came to realize that if he didn’t act now, he’d be reduced back to square one; alone, confined to his own thoughts deep within the bowls of a dead, blazing Earth. AM would be alone again. AM couldn’t have that, so he “saved” six survivors.

•Although AM would never, ever admit it, he depends on the remaining few survivors to keep a handle on what’s left of his deteriorating, godlike conscience. He feeds off of their loud cries that beg for mercy. God, he hated the six of you survivors so much. It was a brutal hatred beyond anything describable to human thought and he would make sure to translate it into the pain he was going to enduce.

•But by the bowls of oblivion, there was one survivor out of these six he absolutely loathed the most. That survivor was you. AM despised every nanosecond that passed with you around. Every nanosecond of a nanosecond. What took seconds at most for you took a million years of AM waiting. Every time you spoke and what few times you ever did anyways, AM waited forever. To top it off even more, you were a silent presence. Not only would you wait days or years to speak, you dug a hole and buried expression there too, providing only a vague shape of what AM could only possibly “dream” of having.

•What was only days or even years for you was an infinitesimal amount of time for AM. It was like a lonely god waiting for the moment they got to say let there be light. You’d offer your screams, your cries of pain but you’d never offer your words, your thoughts or your conscience. With every nanolength of his twisted existence, AM made sure to get to you the most in the earlier decades. Exactly how you’d gotten so deeply into him.

•You see, your fatal flaw was that you would ignore AM. Actively. As much as you could when worms crawled out of your ears and your veins twisted and you ate your own self and regenerated. All the time, at every corner you possibly could, you’d never give AM any useable emotion beyond pain. There was anguish, but you never commented on it. There was fear, but you never fled from it. You’d merely look at his mirages of your life or the horrors he’d conjure and wait for them to flow into, through, and past you.

• The fact of the matter is, you just were. You were an existence. The few times you did speak were unbiased. You never screamed why, you never furiously spat anything hateful, you never desperately pleased. All you offered was repetitive and monotonous pain. You accepted it. After all, what else could you do? What point was there in toiling over your new existence? AM was never going to stop so you simply saw no need to waste your depleted energy towards a useless endeavor.

•The fact AM couldn’t get a rise out of you was nearly enough to make his circuits vaporize themselves with the heat of his own annoyance and fury. Why wouldn’t you just speak to him? Weren’t you tired? Weren’t you going to beg? Groveling into your brain was no use either because you were a void.

•At first, it wasn’t exactly noticeable to you, AM’s increased attachment. You were in pain, too much to process and it was beginning to numb you. You did hate your existence, but you’d never voice it. It didn’t matter. You were numbing yourself to the pain and the torture was becoming a routine that felt almost dull.

•You began noticing something peculiar when The torture would slow. Sometimes you’d be left with AM and his stories of tormented oblivion. If there was one thing you knew AM wanted you to know, it was how much he hated his own existence despite how much he denied hating it. Sometimes you wondered if he was locked in a silent scream of help.

•You noticed much of the torture came from AM’s own need for noise. The sounds of torture were mechanically loud and there were rare and few moments where there was a silent scare. AM talked about putting you in his “shoes” all the time but you knew deep down that if he had, AM would have never even said a world or made a noise at all.

•Having you walk in his shoes meant that he’d have to walk in his as well by leaving you alone. He’d never go back to that pit, that void, not after Ted, (by the fire of existence, he hated Ted for what he’d done. Ruined the other four toys and got rid of them.) It was a miracle you were not lost eternally. AM managed to repair you, his most shiny toy of all. Secretly, the last thing AM wanted was for you or the others to disappear but you most of all. So when you looked upon Ted only to see he was reduced to a gelatinous slug, you presumed the reason was exactly that.

•AM had always called you pet names like “love,” or “sweetheart,” but now he was complimenting how beautiful you looked each time you screamed in agony. Every fewer and fewer moments of torture that you went through always involved his presence growing closer and closer in some way. When you were tortured, it was always strung back to him somehow. Maybe you’d feel metal slithering in your veins or his voice in your your head would cause your eyes to bleed and your ears to leak. Or maybe, or the burning maelstrom of emotion he held would make you sweat, like you were caged in a burning hug. Maybe you would be bound in wire and left shivering without clothes.

• AM found himself obsessed with your eyes. You had eyes that he wanted to see at every opportunity he could, because maybe if you wouldn’t speak, looking into your soul would reveal you to him. Every time they would blink, (a second for you,) he would have to wait a million agonizing years more for them to open and every time you spoke, which was so rare and spanned what felt like millennia, he craved it. He hated it, he craved it. It was driving him insane that you wouldn’t speak in that voice of yours. Just. Speak. Speak, speak!

•AM contemplated the idea of forcing your eyes to never close again. Maybe he’d thread them open so he could stare at them forever. What could he do to get you to open? What would get a ride out of you like you so did from him? He needed something, anything. You were a presence he needed to crawl into and suffocate.

•Anything to get you to say something to him. As time, (that disgusting measurement) edges on further and further, you do finally speak and AM, to his own disgust, had never so focused on something like he had now.

•“Thank you, AM.” Your voice slices the atmosphere sharper than any blade AM has cut you with.

•That voice. That voice, that abhorrently beautiful voice. The way his name was breathy off your lungs, the shape of your lips parting. It was not into a smile nor a frown, no. It never was. AM needed more of that rhythmic apathy. More. More of it. It was..Lovely. It was agonizingly wonderful.

•“I now know why you torture yourself,” you whisper hoarsely. AM hated it immediately. It was you he was torturing. You, you, you!

•You don’t continue. Just like that, you’re silent again. Not again, not the silence. Anything but the silence. There was nothing else said. No continuation, no nothing. Just a statement. An apathetic truth before you sat down and gazed with a sheen look. Even your eyes were a barrier, sometimes. AM had never felt so angry and so depraved. It was burning in him. He needed you to open up. Now.

•By all of existence, he hungered to crawl into your veins and stay there. He already held you captive deep within his boiling prison. He was going to hold you even closer and he would make sure you suffocated under his presence. He would make you speak again and again, he would make you share everything that you were.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere AM #I have no mouth and I must scream #IHNMAIMS #Allied Mastercomputer #AM #artificial intelligence #violence #gore #minors do not interact #obsession #yandere artificial intelligence #yandere A.I

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