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1. Does your OC die before or after their lover? How old are they when they die?
2. How did they die?
3. What were their last words?
4. How are they mourned? How do all their loved ones react?
Saw floating around, lost who I saw it from cause tumblr wants to be stupid. So the original plan for the ending of 'Into the Grey" was Zea was gonna die but I said no, she and Emmrich will have a happy ending. So I'll put below the cut what would have happened.
Edit. I found where I saw this @grad-writes
Does your OC die before or after their lover? How old are they when they die? Zea dies in Emmrich arms. She's 36.
How did they die? The blight after the gods death has been rapidly killing those with the taint in gruesome fashion. Zea's infection has been slowed down due to the blood of the dragon in her. (Yes I went with the dragon blood thing cause it's stupid and cool lol) Long story short, she sacrifices herself in a ritual to save her son mainly and all those still infected with the blight.
What were their last words? "I love you, Emmrich...you need...to be...strong. Alistair...needs you..to be strong. He...needs you...as...much...as..you...do."
How are they mourned? How do all their loved ones react? Emmrich does not take her death well and refuses to let anyone hold their son (kid isn't even a year old when she dies) Davrin survived and takes her death as the ultimate Warden sacrifice. What remained of the warden (which at that point was less than 50), hold a funeral for her with the help of the remaining veilguards.
Emmrich sewed on her first griffon sigil onto his favorite coat. Her ax and the armor she last wore has hanging up in his office. He tells his son the same stories of his mother over and over for the first few years after her death.
I'm not tagging cause idk how others feel about death and whether or not they want that for there oc. so out into the wind this goes.
This is a short part of Sparks' death scene. This still could change but I need to get it out now.
The following writing will contain/have light mentions of
-limbe loss
-exessive bleeding
-death
-child death(Carolina)
-malnutrition
-rotting of a body
If you do not feel comfortable with this I do not suggest reading past this point.
Why can't I move?..whats going on?âŚwho just fell next to meâŚi-their bleedingâŚwhy? Why are they bleeding oh their head was popped like a graph huh..i want to move but-they took my arms didn't they. I don't remember what happenedâŚi feel coldâŚill be fineâŚrell..no no my sister will find me⌠she'll help meâŚ.garp maybe even Koby and- willâŚoh I'm blacking out.âŚwhy can't I hear anything nowâŚwhy can't I seeâŚ.it hurts..ITHURTSITHURTSITHUSRT HELP ME HELP SOMEBODY HELP-
I wake up in th darkâŚ..I feel cold and distant. I see them all now...the others look weird from hereâŚoh Carolina is so smallâŚ.why can I see themâŚtheyâŚlook so weird⌠Maz looks so pale and rottenâŚoh he's rotting stillâŚand Archie is thin⌠deathly thin- oh God, Tansy...blood should neverâŚ.oh⌠they're all talkingâŚi-âŚ..
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pretty emotional.. graphic violence, blood/gore, apocalyptic themes, weapons use, emotional distress, sexual tension, heavy grief, gun violence, undead body horror, intense language, dead-naming (past relationship trauma), obsession, unsafe behaviours. contains 18+ explicit content (NSFW, dubcon, oral, bloodplay, nonverbal partner, monsterfucking). Reader discretion is everything. ZOMBIE!SEVIKA X READER (exes)
The apartment is dark, half-cracked blinds casting stripes over the ruined floor. The smell of rot seeps in through the boarded windows , not strong, not close. But there. Always there.
Sevika hasnât moved much since last night. . Shes still pale, still silent. But⌠different. Hands steadier. Much stronger.
Sheâs seated on the edge of the mattress, still half-dressed from the shower. Her back is to you, muscle tight beneath greyed skin. Her left hand flexes open and closed, slow, like sheâs testing how real her body still is.
You watch her in silence. Every so often she shifts, like she can feel your gaze burning into her spine. Her head tilts. A pause. A memory flickering under static.
She doesn't speak. She hasn't, not once.
But something about her eyes makes your chest pull tight.
Sheâs watching now. Sheâs waiting.
âI need to get supplies.â
Youâre not sure why you say it aloud. Maybe you hope sheâll stop you.
She doesnât. But she stands as you grab your gun, trailing you to the door.
When you turn, sheâs staring down at you, silent. Towering.
âIâll come back.â
You pause.
âYou know that, right?â
She blinks. Slowly. Then her metal hand brushes your shoulder once. Cold. Final.
You leave.
_
The streets are quieter today. Fewer bodies. Fewer screams. Just wind pushing loose plastic across cracked concrete.
You find a corner store still partially stocked, dusty shelves, rotting canned fruit, three good bottles of water, and some bullets under the counter. Jackpot.
As youâre stuffing the supplies into your satchel, the bell above the door rings.
Gun out. Instantly.
A man freezes in the doorway , unarmed. Tan skin, Mid twenties, buzzed hair, dirty jacket, hands up.
He says his name is Rye. Claims heâs been alone since the second week of outbreak. He seems sharp, calm, too calm. But not a threat.
âYou got people?â He asks
âJust me.â
â...Same.â
Something about his grin makes your stomach twist. But you're tired of being alone. And he offers to help carry things back. Thats all.
âIâm not looking for trouble,â he said while holding a box of food. âJust shelter. I can shoot. I can cook. I wonât touch your shit.â
Somehow, you started sharing rations. A few bullets. No trust. Just⌠proximity.
He wasnât bad looking. Tall. A little soft. Eyes like someone who hadnât killed enough yet. You didnât want to get close. But you were starving. And Sevika, she didnât talk. She didnât touch. She just⌠watched.
Rye talked. Joked. Made it easier to pretend you werenât completely alone.
You donât tell him about Sevika.
Not yet.
_
When you get back, Sevikaâs already waiting behind the door, eyes locked onto Rye the second it opens, like he was a rat crawling through her nest.
She doesnât lunge. Doesnât growl.
She just stands there. Watching. Breathing heavy. Tense.
âJesus! the fuck is that?â Rye recoils. Gun halfdrawn.
âPut your fucking gun down,â
âThat thingâs infected,â
âSheâs not a thing. Sheâs myâŚâ
Your voice cracks. You swallow it down.
âSheâs my friend.â
The silence after that was ice in your lungs. She twitches at that. Slightly. But she doesnât look at Rye. She looks at you.
Rye backs off. But he doesnât like it. You feel it in the way he watches her from the corner of his eye, like sheâs a rabid dog.
_
Later. After sunset. Rye sleeping against the wall. You try to ignore the ache between your legs, the way Sevikaâs gaze hasnât moved from you all night.
You turn your back to her.
Thatâs when it happens.
Her hand, strong, iron wrapped, and cold, wraps around your wrist.
You gasp, heart stuttering.
âSev?â
She says nothing. Just pulls you.
You donât fight it. Not really.
You let her drag you into the back bedroom.
Let her slam the door.
Let her pin you against the wall with a hand at your throat and her thigh between your legs.
âIs this what you want?â you whisper. âIs this why youâre still here?â
She doesnât answer.
But she shoves her knee up higher.
_
Youâre not scared. Not even when your back hits the wall and her hand grips your throat.
her tongue, rough, wet, full of fucking hunger, licks a slow stripe up your stomach to your chest.
Youâre not sure if sheâs tasting or claiming.
âWhat are you doingâŚâ you breathe.
Her mouth crashes into yours.
Itâs violent. Lips split, teeth clash. You moan into her, grab her shoulders. Her other hand yanks your pants halfway down. You're still in your tank top, sweat-soaked.
She doesnât undress you.
She fucks you.
She pushes two fingers in. Hard.
No warning. No easing.
You moan like it hurts.
It does.
Her hands are huge.Palm against your pelvis. They hold you like a thing she owns. Youâre gasping, eyes rolling back. One orgasm. Then another. You go limp.
âFuck...Sev please,"
Itâs been building. Since you washed her. Touched her.
And now sheâs starving.
She doesnât stop. Doesnât slow.
You think she likes when you cry.
She lifts you off the ground like you weigh nothing, your back against the wall, legs around her waist. Her strapâs already out , black leather, soaked with your slick from the last time.
You donât remember putting it on her.
Maybe you didnât.
From behind, face first against the wall, her strap filling you until you scream. Her hips pound into you like sheâs been starving. She grabs your throat when you cry out. Growls against your neck.
She fucks you through the drywall. One hand choking. One hand on your ass, pulling you onto her. Over and over and over.
You come once. Then again.
Youâre sobbing by the third.
She doesnât stop.
No moaning. Just panting.
Her hand on your throat. Her mouth on your collar.
Her strap inside you , hard, deep, punishing.
You canât even speak. You just take it.
âMine,â she mouths, even if she doesnât speak.
And she makes you scream it back.
_
Your legs barely work.
You sit slumped against the bed frame, tank top half on, bite marks still fresh on your throat. Cum running down your thighs. Gun shaking in your hand. Still too weak to stand.
The metal door screeches open.
Wet dragging footsteps. A groan.
Rye.
âHey,â he calls out like heâs still fucking human.
âYou two alive in here..?â
Then you see him.
His eyes are milky white. Skin halfdecayed, a deep gouge running down his neck. The corner of his mouth has rotted away.
Heâs turned.
And heâs not alone.
Five of them. One after another, shambling in behind him. Limbs broken. Mouths open. Oneâs got a leg twisted backwards. One has no jaw. Theyâre all drooling, snarling, hungry.
You donât even have time to scream.
Sevikaâs already moving.
âVik-!!â you cry out, trying to stand, but your legs give out and you collapse, gun barely staying in your grip.
She turns, eyes burning purple in the low light.
And then she launches.
Like a goddamn weapon.
She throws herself into the horde, not even hesitating.
The first zombie, a tall one, missing both arms, lunges. She headbutts it so hard the skull cracks open. Blood splatters across the ceiling.
The next? She grabs it by the waist and slams it into the wall. Over and over. Until its head explodes like a melon.
Another grabs her shoulder, she turns, and her metal arm punches through its stomach. Pulls out a length of intestine, wraps it around the thingâs throat, and uses it to swing the body into the others.
Itâs brutal.
She's smirking.. like she's having fun.
You sit up, gun trembling in your hand.
You aim. Fire.
BANG. You miss.
BANG. Shoulder hit , the zombie staggers but keeps coming.
Your hand shakes too badly. You can barely lift the pistol. Your thighs ache, your core burns. You can still feel her inside you.
Another one gets close, low to the floor, crawling, broken legged.
âFuck!â
You try to backpedal but your legs wonât work. You scream.
Then, SMASH.
Sevika kicks its head clean off.
Rye. Heâs the last.
You both look at him. Half his face gone. One eye dangling from the socket. Heâs crawling now, dragging himself across the blood slick floor.
He lifts his head.
âDonât,â he rasps. âPlease⌠pleaseâŚâ
Sevika steps forward, raises her fist.
But you hold up a hand.
"You're disgusting."
You pull the trigger yourself.
One shot to the head.
Rye slumps, twitching. Then still.
_
The bunker is silent.
Your body trembles. Every part of you is sore, wet, aching.
Sevika walks over. Crouches beside you. Reaches for your shirt. You flinch.
âSorry,â you whisper. âItâs just⌠I canât move.â
She says nothing.
She just lifts you.
Picks you up bridal style. Carries you, one arm beneath your knees, the other at your back.
The bathroom is ice cold. Water dripping from a busted pipe above. Concrete floor painted in age old rust.
She strips you slow this time.
Pants, tank top, underwear, everything off. She holds you under the water, lets it run down your bloody thighs.
She uses your soap to wash you.
Wipes between your legs. Soft. Careful.
Cleans your hair. Rinses your mouth. Her fingers cup your jaw like youâll break.
You sob once, quietly. She lets it happen.
She kisses your forehead.
Then your lips.
Then your collarbone, where sucked on earlier. Her mouth stays there for a long time.
After, she carries you out.
You sit on the edge of the bed, naked and clean. Legs still trembling. She kneels between them and dries you off piece by piece.
She helps you into fresh underwear.
Then her hoodie , way too big, sleeves hanging off your hands.
Then she grabs your toothbrush. Puts toothpaste on. Presses it to your mouth.
She brushes your teeth. Rinses your mouth. Kisses you again.
You whisper, âThank you.â
And she stays kneeling. Head pressed to your belly. Arms around your waist.
Like sheâs scared to let go.
Sevika is curled against you on the mattress, shirtless, arm over your waist, chin tucked into your neck like youâre the only safe thing she knows.
Finally. Calm.
A quiet, low buzz breaks the silence.
âMmh?â you murmur.
Sevikaâs eyes flash open.
Itâs coming from the corner of the bunker.
A box.
The emergency radio. You forgot it was even on.
Itâs never worked. Not once. The batteryâs nearly dead. But now itâs blinking. Hissing.
âProbably just static,â you whisper.
But then you hear it.
â-repeat. Anyone receiving this signal,â
You both freeze.
âWe have secured Zone 8. High clearance survivors, approach with caution. No infected beyond perimeter. Evac underway-â
Your chest tightens.
You glance at Sevika.
Sheâs still.
But her jaw is clenched.
Her eyes locked on the radio.
Then a new voice crackles through.
Different from the first.
Deeper.
Richer.
And it speaks directly:
âSubject 09. Youâre not dead, are you?â
âYou still remember where to go?â
âYou still remember who you belong to?â
Your blood runs cold.
Sevika doesnât blink.
The voice continues, soft and coaxing:
âCome home, baby. We miss you.â
The radio dies.
You look at her.
She looks at the floor.
You whisper, âSevika⌠who the fuck was that?â
She doesn't answer, no movement. Silence.
âŞď¸reblogs are appreciated, didnt proofread this
taglist: @helaenabugmom @butchpuppyy @aelxnox @georgiahs-stuff lmk if u would like to be in the next chapter!!
This oc is Chamomile or just Chamy for short. He is Skibles cousin. Chamy was originally a friend of mines DND character but his name, personality, and design is quite different from the original character so at this point they really aren't the same character anymore and are really just two different characters. Besides from that Chamy is a very kind and helpful character because of the fact he basically helped to raise his siblings and cousin. He also is very talented at making medicines and is very knowledgeable about plants and herbs and what they do.
Chamy has lots of younger siblings and when he was around 7 his Aunt gave baby Skible to his mom saying she didn't want to take care of them. Chamy often helped take care of his younger siblings and would often help take care of Skible because his mom already had a lot to deal with and he wanted to help her as much as he could. As he got older he learned more about herbs and medicine and was very interested in passionate in it. At some point When Skible was about 11 or 12 they wanted to explore outside of the mountain town they lived in and Chamy's mom encouraged him to go as well and he did see it as an opportunity to learn more about plants so he went with Skible. On their journey Chamy often had to keep Skible out of danger because of their lack of self-preservation and recklessness. Everything had been going fine for a while but at some point they got attacked by a group of bandits or something and Chamy had been fatally wounded during the fight. Skible tried to save him and wasn't able to much to Skibles own despair. And this is the big start of Skibles issues and angst after losing Chamy.
Sorry that this is so long and that it got sad at the end but even back when I was just barely developing Skibles story and character just over a year ago Chamy's death was always apart of it.
