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knives-out20 · 3 years

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Mistake - Bobby & The Buddies

Fandom: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)

Pairings: Bobby Brightside (OC) x Cliff Booth, StarBeep, DeepSpace, Platonic!Geep,

Warnings: Swearing, Faggotry, Probably sad, The end is here, Unrealistic timeskipping because Cliff hasn’t physically changed much,

Notes: Finally, the KISS & The Buddies crossover finale is here! We can get back to normal form hereon after, woo! There may or may not be minor references to this series in future Clobby oneshots, but overall, this is it. Ramon Valdovinos is my newest OUATIC OC; faceclaimed by young Benicio Del Toro, he’s The Buddies’ manager. Enjoy!

Bobby poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he, Cliff, and the Buddies looked up at the tall members of KISS.

For what was probably the last time- ever, or for now, was beyond him. He didn’t wanna think about it.

As long as no one insinuated the first idea (ever) to Beep and Deep, he ought to be fine.

Bobby felt Cliff put his hand on his shoulder, the man’s touch alone helping him through whatever life was. He looked up at Starchild. “So...this is it, huh?” Bobby rhetorically asked.

Starchild tilted his head from side to side. “For the most part. With our diverging schedules and plans for our bands, we can’t take your band on tour with us. And you can’t take us with you. Besides, you weren’t gonna be our openers forever. The Buddies were bound to get separate attention sooner or later.”

Maria nodded a bit. “Fun while it lasted, though. Didn’t think the seventies could’ve been any better if our bands hadn’t crossed paths.”

“We think so, too” Gene grunted. “That’s one thing we thanked Peter for, before...y’know...”

Maria hummed in understanding, rubbing Frankie’s back.

“You sure we can’t take you guys to Australia with us?” Eric Carr, the new drummer for KISS, spoke up.

Bobby scoffed. “Ramon thinks it’s best for us to start small and work our way up. Around California, then the USA, the continent, and make our way up to a world tour” he explained.

“We’re- We’re not, like, shaming you for jumping onto a world tour, though.” Frankie held his hand sup.

“Fuck knows you guys deserve it” Peep added, eyes shining despite their dark colour.

“Thank you” Starchild smiled.

Cliff had both his hands on Bobby’s shoulders, massaging gently. “Would it make sense to thank you guys for letting Bobby’s band open for you guys these past years...?” He asked. “They were decently popular before you guys, and I feel that you kinda pushed that forward to be even more-so.”

Starchild nodded, “it kinda would- you’re welcome.”

Bobby glanced up at Cliff, hiding a smile behind Bobby’s brown hair.

Beep, Ace, and Deep had been quiet thus far. Which was new; Ace never shut up whether it be laughing or talking, and Beep ‘n’ Deep were usually the most talkative two in the band.

Beep had his hands behind his back, feet shuffling and shifting in dead silence.

Ace picked at his costume, occasionally patting down his hair and looking up at the ceiling.

Deep held his left upper arm with his right hand, eyes glued down to his beat-up shoes.

The two bands dispersed into their own groups, Beep and Deep separately standing by themselves.

Ace approached Deep, “hey.”

Deep glanced up at him. “Hey.”

Ace cooed softly, using a finger to tilt Deep’s head up. “It’s a wonder how I’m still somehow taller than ya, huh?”

“Man-” Deep swatted his hand away, fighting back a smile. “Shut up.”

Ace trailed his hand down to Deep’s left upper arm, thumb stroking the tattoo he had gotten years back. “I can’t sneak you into any of my luggage, can I?”

“Wish y’could. But I got a double-life here, with the comedy and the band.”

“Yea, I know. I’ll ring your line, though. Through calls and letters and whatever else I can do....a mail carrier pigeon?”

Deep snorted, “you’re unbelievable.”

“Like I haven’t heard you say that enough times already.”

Deep looked up at Ace, gulping.

The corner of Ace’s lips twitched up into a slight, sad grin. “I’ll miss you while we’re down ‘n’ out ‘n’ wherever.”

“I’ll miss you too...What’s gonna happen to us?”

Ace sucked his teeth, emotions unable to hide behind his ghostly-coloured makeup. “No clue, but we’ll manage. Can’t be that hard if we keep in contact like I said earlier.”

“I guess.”

Ace clenched his jaw, thinking of what to say next.

“Think your hair will grow back next time I see ya?”

He giggled, reaching a hand up to feel his now-shorter hair. “Hope so. I know how much you like it long so you could-”

“Ace.”

“I’m joking” Ace winked playfully. “We’ll see. Think you can get it that long?”

“Never in a million years!”

Ace laughed, clapping his hands together.

The only sight Deep could ever want to see, the only one he needed. His finger traced the tattoo on his arm, it was of 'Frehley Forever’ in Ace’s handwriting.

“I’ll see you in time for your birthday, though. In November?”

“Yea.”

“I’ll see you in November” Ace chirped in a sing-song voice, earning an airy chuckle from Deep. “If not, I’ll send some stuff back to ya, a few gifts, maybe. If we’re in Australia still, maybe a kangaroo.”

Deep laughed.

Ace smiled in adoration as he leaned in, softly kissing over the tattoo on Deep’s arm before kissing Deep’s lips themselves. “Love you, Derek.”

“Love you too.” Deep mumbled, his airy chuckle turning into a typical laugh when Ace did what he always did; ruffle Deep’s hair.

Starchild and Beep looked away from the two, and back at one another.

Beep looked up at Starchild twitching. “Y’gonna miss my tics when you’re away?” He joked.

“More than anything” Starchild played along, Beep’s eyes trailing the outline of the black star around his eye. “I’ll miss you more, in and of itself. Shame you’re not short enough to fit in my jacket and come along with us, eh?”

Beep chortled. “First time I’m too tall for something, I’ll say.”

Starchild cupped Beep’s cheek, soft to the touch. “I’ll try keepin’ in touch. I won’t give up on us if you won’t. But as the Bobby of this band-” the two shared a giggle, “I’ll most likely be distant, literally. It’ll be busy.”

“I never could.” Beep assured him, hands interlocking with Starchild’s bigger ones and giving them quick squeezes. “See if Gene can send over free KISS merchandise” he sarcastically recommended.

“I’ll think about it” Starchild winked. He pulled Beep closer, fingers tracing down Beep’s neck. “I’ll be hot blooded f’you” Starchild referenced.

Beep felt his face flush, knowing what he was referencing.

“Check it and see?”

Beep kissed his teeth, dragging his tongue across his teeth. “I’ve got a fever of a hundred and three.”

Starchild grinned, bringing Beep’s hand up to kiss it, imprinting it with a red lipstick stain.

One Beep wishes he could keep forever. He gestured for Starchild to lean down, pulling him in to imprint the red lipstick over his own lips.

Peep slunk over to Gene, looking all the way up a him. “Gene.” She bowed.

Gene exhaled through his nose. “Peep.” He returned, bowing a bit.

“If you’re gone, who’s gonna protect me from secret serial killers?” Peep inquired.

Gene groaned, shaking his head. “I’m sure your brothers can manage” he shrugged.

“Benji and Derek? Wow, you sure have higher hopes for them, don’t’cha?”

“I don’t see in ‘em what Starchild and Ace see, but, yes.”

“Well, course you don’t. What Starchild and Ace see in ‘em is what you see in Dolly” Peep reminded, though it wasn’t something Gene needed reminding of.

“Y’got that right” Gene nodded. “That aside, you’re a strong lady, Penelope. You’re more than capable of takin’ care of yourself. Ain’t that right? I mean, you’re not so scared o’me anymore, right? That’s a feat.”

Peep lightly punched his arm. “Shut up” he giggled.

Gene smiled down at her, patting the top of her head. “If you’re ever really in so much trouble, I’m sure y’know how to get to me.”

“I do.” Peep smiled.

Gene grinned. “Y’gonna miss this?” He asked, sticking out his horrifically long tongue.

Peep groaned in fake-disgust, turning away. “Gross, this is a question for Dolly, not me-”

Gene cackled, throwing his head back a bit.

Peep smiled proudly, hands on her hips. Making Gene laugh- or so much as smile- was a rare feat she had only seen Ace achieve thus far (”look! It’s rock and roll!”).

Bobby watched the Sweeneys converse with their government-assigned KISS members (as he liked to joke), gaze flickering to the floor in melancholy.

“You okay, babe?”

Bobby reached a hand up, carefully cupping Cliff’s cheek. He hummed in response. “I dunno when we’re gonna see ‘em again, mango. What if we never have time to hang out again? What if shit goes down and we have to stop hanging up with one of ‘em, or someone breaks up with someone else and it’s all weird?” He inquired. “I dunno, I just...as much as I liked the Buddies being independent, opening for ‘em as cool as hell.”

Cliff kissed Bobby’s palm. “Somethin’ tells me this isn’t the end, Bobby. They may not be your employers or technical-band-mates anymore, but they’re still your friends” he answered, kissing the top of Bobby’s head. “And we know a thing or two about friends, don’t we?”

“All sorts’a stuff.”

“Exactly. We know lots of the outcomes that this friendship with Gene, Peter- uh, Eric now, Paul, and Ace could come to. We’re ready for any of them anyways, amirite?”

“Right.” Bobby had the ghost of a smile on his face as he craned his head up to look at Cliff, though upside down. “God, you’re my religion.”

“Love you too” Cliff purred, kissing Bobby’s nose.

Backtracking to Deep and Ace, Ace’s hand in Deep’s hair.

Deep glanced down at his watch, literally watching as each second with Ace slipped away. Each of Beep’s seconds with Starchild. Each of Peep’s seconds with Gene. “I just wanna stay here forever.”

“Y’do?” Ace arched a brow.

“‘Cause I know in the mornin’, you’ll be gone. And the morning after that- rats, then the next ones after that.”

Ace gulped, pulling Deep in and tightly hugging him. “Bring it in, man.”

Deep wrapped his arms around Ace’s neck, a hand in his pitch black, but godly soft hair. “Ace?”

Ace pulled away from the hug, a hand cupping Deep’s cheek. Their noses were inches apart. “Yea?”

Deep glanced down at his tattoo. “Don’t make a mistake outta me, alright?”

Ace fought back a knowing grin, simply nodding. “Never on any planet, baby.”

Beep, meanwhile, bit the edge of his lip. “Starry?”

Starchild looked down at him, “mhm?”

Beep looked at the red lips on his hand. “Don’t make a- make a mistake out of me, alright? Out of, uh, us.”

Starchild’s eyebrows furrowed together a bit. “Y’know how I say I can see into the future, Benji?”

Beep squinted, confused. “Yea-?”

“I can say for certain that I don’t see that happening.” Starchild chuckled.

Beep slowly smiled, feeling a twinge of relief. “I love you, Starry.”

“Yea, I love you too.”

Peep tilted his head. “Gene, y’better not make a mistake out of our friendship while you’re gone.”

Gene narrowed his eyes. “How could I-?”

“I dunno, but just don’t” Peep shrugged, rolling up an imaginary sleeve.

Gene scoffed, saluting her. “Aye-Aye, Penelope.”

Bobby smiled to himself, Cliff’s hand going up and under his shirt. “I’ll miss ‘em.”

“Yea, me too” Cliff agreed. “But this isn’t the end, remember?”

“Far from it.”

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abalonetea · 4 years

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updated character list, because i’m procrastinating Work and also I've made major changes since the last one, woops

Adele Adler

the handler, the woman in charge. She runs relay between all four teams, doling out missions, handling issues that arrive on and off base, and acting as go between for the Teams and the Council. she’s supposed to keep her distance between them, and had managed that for all the teams before now, but…the men are growing on her! she has a surprising soft spot for most of them, and finds herself more and more willing to turn blind eyes on their shenanigans.

_-_

West Team

Jeremy - Speedster

a rough upstart from the streets of Los Angeles. he spent nearly six years bouncing from city to city, and did a very large stint running drugs for a prominent crime organization. with hands that have been broken more than a few times and a serious case of ADHD, paired with a short temper and a habit of fighting dirty, he’s a firecracker out on the field.

Joshua - Sharpshooter

born in Roturoa, but more often found in the wilds away from other people. if it moves, he’s been paid to hunt it before. perpetually tired and with a bad eye from an old shooting injury, it can sometimes be surprising that he’s so fierce out on the field. especially when it comes to people bothering what’s his.

Feliciano - Rouge

served in the Iradium War just outside of Rome, briefly, and made a living as a bodyguard for a while. he’s used to being neither seen or heard as a result, and it’s led to a very slow process in finding a place for himself on the team. that being said, he’s got a fondness for making poorly timed jokes on the field, directly before stabbing an opponent in the neck.

Lukas - Techie

a former teacher at the SPFOT, where he created the original prototype for prosthetic limbs fueled by iradium. knows more about the strange element than anyone else, and found himself working for the GSC after being framed for the murder of a former colleague. you’ll often find him building devices that will stop him from having to get involved with hand in hand combat.

Deiter - Doctor

after losing everything that he owned during WW2, Deiter found himself working as a black market doctor, trading treatment for food and places to stay. extremely fond of the team that he has now, and very invested in making sure that they consistently come back in one piece - despite the occasional code disruptions that occur.

Jamie - General

from a small town to the fields of the Iradium War, he’s been fighting from the moment he had the chance. close contact with constant iradum boom’s have left him with some pretty bad hearing loss, and a strong dislike for explosives work. excels in planning and finding the strong points in his comrades.

_-_

East Team

Scout - Scout

grew up in Boston, where he was raised by a single mother, with five younger siblings. between the ADHD and the dyslexia, he’s lacking in confidence, and making up for it in bluster. a proud owner of pigeon wings, an iradium baseball bat, and a true master at sleight of hands, including coin tricks.

Jane - Guard

a former soldier in WW2, who came away from the fight with some hearing issues. very loud and a little too blunt for most people’s likings. has eagle wings, but one of them’s broken and held in place with a handmade strap. takes great pride in his job. very good at sewing, and gets a kick out of Scout’s jokes even if he won’t admit it.

Corentin - Thief

he was drafted into the Korean War, where he served a grueling eight months before being attacked by military trained dog-horses and sent home. a chronic insomniac who never settled back into civilian life, and has an abysmally childish sense of humor. usually tasked with cooking meals on his team. lovebird wings.

Ollie - Arsonist

a firebug from Daytona who was picked up by Seamus, and not Adele. really wants to do his job well and not fuck things up, but has a case of chronic bad luck. paired up with Scout, they become the gruesome twosome, and cause prank-Hell for the rest of the team. collects lighters. sparrow wings.

Seamus - Gunner

an alcoholic with a penchant for creating updated guns, and a fondness for loud music. he/s a great cook but never bothers with it. got caught in a car bomb when he was younger, and has pretty bad back issues now. Ollie’s proving to be good for him. great skua wings. (subclass - Builder)

Sasha - Healer

a doctor with a love for guns, and a history with a cult in Siberia. she’s an optimistic person, though large crowds make her a little nervous. has more common sense than the ret of her team mates put together, drinks vodka in her tea, and has vulture wings. heavily linked to a hypothetical angel of death. (subclass - gun enthusiast)

_-_

North Team

Tony - Runner

local loudmouth of North team. you cannot pay this boy to be quiet, and he’s both stupid as a bag of bricks and also incredibly intelligent. from New York, where he had a lovely stint robbing the Italian mafia blind with his husband, Rizzo, until they were both shot up and picked up by Adele. part of a modern day bonnie and clyde.

Rizzo - Demolitions Expert

pretty adorable if you can get past the fact that he’s incredibly crass and has no filter between mind and mouth. Hopelessly in love with his husband, even if no one else realizes they’re married. he will burn water if you let him cook, so maybe best if you don’t.

Loto - Archer

from the Louisiana bayous, and great with a cross bow. has an old coonhound-horse that sleeps in bed with him, but who Loto claims to hate. often forgets that he needs to actually go to the kitchen and get food, and that the food he needs is easily available.

Braeburn - Mechanic

the longest running member of any of the active teams. has a prosthetic arm. really fond of sweet tea, and has more idea of what’s going on than he’s willing to let on. bound up in so many contracts, it’s literally woven into his Intent.

(N/A - Medic)

(N/A - Assassin)

_-_

South Team

Elias - Soldier

a big softy, under all that gruffness. a pretty shy guy, and any kindness will make him flustered. was pulled into a unit of winged soldiers for the Iradium War on a technicality. spent four years traveling around the states with BJ. has a severe case of HEARTsickness. greater frigate wings.

BJ - Hurricane

left an abusive home at fourteen and has been on the streets since. took a contract with GSC to get Elias medical treatment. dyslexic, and often described by his team as “being a lot”. a baseball enthusiast from Orlando, who’s basically Florida Man with hummingbird wings.

Olek - Firepower

can probably punch you hard enough to get a KO, but fights with an Iradium powered flare-gun that does serious damage. from Russia, with a strict I won’t tell you anything about my past policy, and a bizarre fondness for bears. great at giving hugs when you’re down. curly goose wings.

Jakob - Maker

has a highly advanced prosthetic eye. losing the vision in his other eye. the guy who picked up BJ and Elias. has a real morality struggle between the job he does, and his own views on Mercy. probably needs a hug more than he lets on. rhode island red wings.

Jules - Spy

one of the longest lasting members of the Compass teams. served in WW2, and the Iradium War. genderfluid, and doesn’t remember their real name. walks a thin line between being distant and flirtatious as fuck, with the bad habit of falling asleep while he’s smoking. used to have cardinal wings

Gabe - Hunter

a former worker on an Alaskan fishing boat, he’s a remarkable shot with a rifle and can catch most anything in traps including humans. head strong and doesn’t take direction well. falcon wings. (sub class - Field Medic)

#wip wow #wow characters #writeblr #how am i still missing two slots

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gospacegay · 7 years

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Dark Destiny

A thing I wrote over two days when I was supposed to be working. It’s medieval rusame, with hints of fruk and japan randomly tossed in. Not G friendly (gore, murder, sex references). Also... is it Braginski or Braginsky? I’ve seen both used a lot.

Ivan gazed over the icy cold throne room with disinterest. The shining black stone of the room only reflected the fact that there was so few subjects in attendance. This wasn't by chance. Ivan Braginsky, the king of the bitter north, was quite unhappy. When he was unhappy, heads had a tendency to fall off.

“Your highness, dinner is prepared.” Toris, his most loyal servant announced. The sparsely populated royal court seemed relieved to hear this, herding towards the door. Most nobles didn't have the guts to look at their own king, let alone speak to him.

“My own loving people, they won't even to speak to me.” Ivan mourned to the plainly dressed servant. “Under normal circumstances, I would say it's because you control them in life and undeath. Respectfully, you also gutted the lord of Yarlasky in front of his wife.” Toris pointed out weakly, also avoiding eye contact. “I suppose that would be intimidating.” the pale king sighed, slumping in his chair.

To go through another meal with thirty or more people, all scared of his every breath. It was exhausting just thinking about it. “Bring my meal to my private chambers. I require privacy for arcane studies.” Ivan decided suddenly, marching off with purpose. He didn't even wait for a response, charging out of the room. On the other side of the castle, past a gauntlet of defences, was Ivan's sleeping quarters.

A small laboratory had been set up off to the side, for if he was particularly sleepless. Born being able to here the whispers of the dead made sleep a luxury. Of course, demons and ghosts didn't torture his sleepless nights anymore. He was the most powerful necromancer in all the northern lands. He could steal and sculpt lost souls to his will. Flesh and bone were his artistic medium.

Still, a new issue kept him from rest. King Braginsky badly desired a mate of his own. Oh to still the miserable quaking of his dark magic stained heart. He supposed the war with just about everyone to the south was dragging down his morale as well. That damn new religion was taking entire countries by storm, and Ivan wanted nothing to do with it.

It was those pesky light worshipers. They claimed necromancy was evil, and black magic was a disease. No one had the right to call Ivan or his precious sisters diseased. Well... maybe Natalia was a little mad, but she was just... odd. No worse than other magically inclined royal families.

Entering his lavish bedroom, Ivan sealed the door shut behind him. Hurriedly, he drew a small magic circle with enchanted sand. A much larger sacred circle of salt sealed it in. Focusing on his inner strength, the whispers of magic came as easily as breathing. “Oh great spirits beyond, tell me of my future mate.” Ivan commanded with rumbling authority.

The air chilled sharply around him, silky voices floating from beyond the great barrier of death. They spoke softly in Ivan's ear, so gentle they were barely words.

Wall of black meets point of white...

So follows a great battle...

Sapphires framed by gold...

Untold wealth and victory to follow...

The spirits evaporated away, leaving the king alone in his quarters. He groaned in frustration, having heard the poetic nonsense several nights in a row. The dead had been so much clearer in the past. There was a rapid knocking at the door, followed by a muffled “Dinner is here, your highness.”

With a brief burst of Ivan's potent magic, the doors were opened from afar. Unnerved by the sight after all these years, Toris hesitated before entering. “Put it on the dresser. I wish to meditate.” Ivan dismissed, not even looking over his shoulder. “My lord, important military reports have arrived by raven.” Toris informed, edging closer to the agitated king. When there was no response, the lesser servant put the scrolls on the ground and backed out warily.

Scrolls arriving by raven was generally a bad thing. It meant standard horseback or pigeon wasn't fast enough. He flopped on the floor, lazily reaching for a scroll. Closing the door with a mental flick of his mind, the king began reading intently.

General Yao had been defeated to the east, slain by a proclaimed hero from the south. This was quite a feat considering Yao was one of Ivan's greatest tacticians. The man was cunning, heartless, and reliable, as to be expected of a vampire. The second military report only confirmed the obvious, with better intelligence gathering.

The pathetic king of Britannica, Arthur Kirkland, had gone and raised another 'hero'. The betrayal stung fiercely, consider both kings had once attended magic classes together. Arthur ultimately specialized poorly in woodland magic, while Ivan mastered all manner of dark arts. They used to be friends, or at least work acquaintances. Fine. Ivan didn't need friends anyway.

He'd just slay this assassin like all the others before. He still had the preserved corpse of the last 'hero', Sir Eduard Vock of the Western Sea. Such a pompous title for someone who died instantly. The fool's family was still requesting the body for burial. Ivan denied them the right, artfully carving the man's skull into a macabre wind chime.

00000

Two days past, and the ravens continued arriving with great urgency. They all bore the same grim message. The holy hero of Britannica was on a war path, topping forts in a direct line to the capitol. The only general to survive the massacres was Winter, a loyal subject of the court. He had served Ivan's father for years prior to being murdered.

There was no delicate nobility in the throne room this morning. Ivan paced, mind running rampant. As much as the citizens feared him, they feared being killed by Britannic invaders more. Dozens of requests for aid were starting to arrive by pigeon and horseback. Something had to be done.

“Sir, General Winter has arrived from the eastern gate.” Toris announced, shy like always. “Send him in.” the king ordered, settling on his silver throne. Moments later, a gaunt older figure shuffled into the room. Most of his features were obscured by bandages and armour, but the sky high rank was visible enough.

“My highness, It is an honour to meet with you.” the figure greeted with lopsided kneeling, voice roughened from years of bitter cold and chain smoking. “Rise and tell me your news.” the king demanded with ease. The older general obeyed, replying “The Britannic assassin travels in small numbers, with a group of specialists. Wall climbing equipment, magic, and trickery. The attack was at night. We were unprepared for such clever tactics.”

“Peasant casualties?” Ivan asked, already knowing the answer. “Incredibly high my lord. They will stop at nothing to get your attention.” the general confirmed, coughing heavily towards the end. “See the healers in the main wing. You have earned it.” Ivan dismissed. This hero had captured the king's attention indeed, in the worst way possible.

00000

The snow frosted capital city was buzzing with the news. Their feared necromancer king was challenging the proclaimed hero from the south to honorable duel. The event was being sang about on every street corner of the city, for better or worse.

“My lord, are you certain this is wise?” Toris stammered, wringing his hands. “Yes. No challengers for the throne beat me before. I have trained years for this.” Ivan replied, almost giddy in anticipation. He was dressed in plate mail, a sword and painted round shield held waiting. A tabard depicting the royal black eagle on red fields was worn proudly. His armored feet clicked on the smooth floor of the throne room constantly as he paced

How long had it been since the infamous king had fended off a challenger? “How can we be certain the invader accepted the request?” Toris wheedled away like he always did. “Do not question my judgments servant, for I have been blessed by gods.” Ivan barked, fed up with the meek act. Pondering striking the shorter man, he was interrupted.

“Blessed by the gods, huh? Awful cocky for a guy that's about to get crushed.” a stranger taunted from the wide open entrance way. “The hero of Britannica I presume.” Ivan greeted coolly, grinning widely. He didn't care if he looked insane, the pale king was going to enjoy this.

“What are the rules of this duel, skeleton king?” the figure demanded, totally covered in gleaming white Armour. A blue and white fabric tunic covered his own chest piece. His impractical two handed sword was lovingly polished to a shine, drawn and at the ready. Twenty of his comrades trailed behind him, ranging from obvious wizards to brutish mercenaries.

“There will be no assistance from the outside. Consequences will happen otherwise.” Ivan began, pointing to the literal wall of skeleton archers behind him. “This better apply to you bub.” the helmet wearing hero scoffed, humorously light about the situation. “Of course. It is a battle to the death, after all. I can think of nothing more honorable.” Ivan crooned in a sickly sweet tone, putting on his helmet.

“Of course, you'd think that you – Holy shit!” the distracted hero screeched mid sentence as Ivan charged. Laughing manically, Ivan tried slamming into the offensively geared knight. The king's attempt to knock him over with the shield failed, but only barely. Slightly more agile in lighter equipment, the challenger was quick with his own silly sword. Didn't he know shields were superior?

After several lunges and trip attempts, Ivan fell back into a defensive stance. This guy was fast, and quite amazing in battle. Panting from his bold exertions, the king would have to reserve his remaining energy for a different opening.

The other man wasn't fairing well, but still had great range with that heavy sword. Ivan's shield was starting to look quite dented from fending off it's mighty blows. “Give it up skeleton man. I'm faster, and hit harder!” the other knight boasted, breathing just as hard.

“You forget I am wiser!” Ivan roared, recklessly flinging his shield at the man. Using the natural flinching reaction, the king charged into close range. Smashing the helmet clean off with the pommel of his short sword, Ivan flipped the light blade over and pressed it to the young man's exposed neck. “Damn it... Just... make it quick okay?” the knight sighed in resignation, knowing this was the end.

Ivan didn't listen, utterly transfixed by the stranger's face. It was tan, framed by golden blonde hair. Handsome features centred around blue eyes that shone like jewels. It was a crime against nature to kill someone this beautiful. The teasing phrases of three days ago looped in the king's lonely mind.

Wall of black meets point of white...

So follows a great battle...

Sapphires framed by gold...

Untold wealth and victory to follow...

His fabled mate couldn't be this pest, could he?

“Drop the weapon.” Ivan hissed, conflicted and horribly attracted at the same time. Pinned to the wall at blade point, the stranger obeyed grudgingly. “Toris, shackle him and strip him down. I want him secured in my chambers.” Ivan ordered loudly, unable to tear away from that handsome expression of fear. He even had freckles. Ivan adored freckles.

It was best to quadruple check the prophecy before getting his hopes up though. “What the hell! What are you going to do to me!?” the man demanded as he was cuffed and hauled away by undead soldiers. “Nothing sinister I assure you.” Ivan sang in response, feeling his heart flutter in his chest. The king had plans for this young man.

00000

Five days passed by without a word from the king of Britannica. After discovery his prisoner was a son of Arthur Kirkland, a ransom demand was immediately sent off by raven. Ivan had admittedly expected that he might have to haggle the price down a bit, but to not receive any response at all? That was unusually harsh. The southern kingdom was a day away by magic raven, so time wasn't an excuse.

Of course, the hero known as Alfred Kirkland was hardly suffering. After a day of being in barbed cuffs on the cold floor, Ivan couldn't help but spoil the man. Steel shackles were traded for soft leather restraints, and soft bedding was provided. Warm sleeping wear was supplied and cleaned daily. Fresh food was always on demand. A frown simply didn't suit the attractive blond's features.

Entering his bed chambers, Ivan greeted his prisoner happily. The golden blond captive looked up expectantly, asking “Any birds or scrolls yet?” The king shook his head, frowning slightly. Having been off chain since three days ago, Alfred had dozens of opportunity to escape the room. He didn't appear to be doing so, quite depressed.

“Cheer up, he might comply if I threaten to send a finger.” Ivan soothed. The younger man just sighed and curled up on Ivan's plush bed. He started sniffling, looking absolutely crushed by the news. “I just... I don't get it. I know I pissed him off... but to send nothing at all?” he whimpered. Ivan floundered in situations like these. He almost physically hurt when the young man was sad.

“Don't cry, little one. I'm sure he is late to answer.” Ivan reasoned, itching to wrap himself around the prisoner possessively. “No... No! I've had enough! I'm not a pawn!” Alfred declared, switching from upset to prideful in seconds.

He rolled over, looking at the king with bold blue eyes. “You clearly want to get with this. Don't you have any court positions open?” Alfred gestured to his own athletic body as he spoke, clearly unafraid. The bluntness of the question stopped Ivan in tracks, a hot blush creeping up his face.

“I... um... yes.” the king stammered, heart racing.

“I'll be whatever you want, advisor, duke, whatever... I'll kill for you if I have to. But you gotta help me kill my dad. Just the worst god damn thing you can do to a man... What's the highest position you have open?” Alfred continued, so determined it was sexy.

“Queen. Most people don't wish to associate with necromancers.” Ivan replied quietly. Alfred cocked a brow in surprise, commenting “Queen huh, that’s... well... hmm. Screw it, I'll do that. All of it, just kill my dad and destroy everything he ever loved. Besides, you're probably a decent size anyway.”

How could Ivan say no to a deal like that?

00000

Two months had past since his son was officially captured, but the king of Britannica was not bothered. The boy had always been nothing but a pest, threatening Arthur's rule. Today several nobles fraternized in the cream and gold colored throne room. The stoic, if grumpy, king was a beloved figure by his citizens. A spring festival of light was being planned in his honor. A lesser ceremony was being held next Sunday for the presumed dead Alfred, but Arthur had no intention of going.

“My dear, there's been terrible rumors lately about the king of the north lands.” His fair queen, Francine, fretted from her own chair. Arthur looked at his beautiful wife, the royal daughter of the neighboring francs. “He is a savage and a necromancer. That's hardly a surprise.” Arthur dismissed.

“They say he's taken a wife, and a new advisor... That he's looking to take more land...” Francine whispered, clearly taking the rumors to heart. “Don't be daft. He has plenty of land. His advisors would be unable to handle more work load. Black magic can never prevail over the light.” Arthur insisted stubbornly, so assured in his own words. “If you insist, love.” Francine agreed airily, clearly not believing him.

It was true the dark king was making moves though. A massive army was pressing in from the north. Although King Braginsky primarily used tireless undead for foot soldiers and archers, the army still had a notable human component of wizards and tacticians. This ensured the force would take at least two days to arrive. Just enough time to reinforce the already fearsome city walls.

A ragged bloody soldier stumbled into Arthur's near divine throne room. “My lord, my highness. It's a massacre.” the man gasped, barely alive himself. “You are dripping blood on my floors.” Arthur scolded in disapproval. The soldier took no heed, stumbling closer. “Felsbrook was overrun with undead. I rode my horse as fast as I could to warn you.” he continued, coughing harder.

Suddenly wracked with spasms, the soldier screamed and fell to the floor. He stilled in true death, pooling blood everywhere. Foul necrotic parasites could be seen pushing around under his skin. One noble fainted at the sight, while others recoiled in horror.

“Kiku, please dispose of this wretched creature. I must attend to military matters.” King Kirkland ordered, taking the time to walk around the festered body. The raven haired fire wizard complied silently, sombre brown eyes always watching. It was difficult for him to protest otherwise as a mute court wizard.

Taking a quick stroll to a nearby castle wall, the king looked pensively outward. You could hear a siege long before you could see it. In this case, you could smell it even before that. The faint odor of smoke and rotten meat was unmistakable. Braginsky's forces were much closer than previously expected. Improvisations would have to be made.

00000

Things were not going well for Arthur Kirkland as he huddled in his grand throne room. He had been played brilliantly. The loud and noxious forces to the west had only been slaves and festering zombies in forced march. Having pushed most of his men to the western wall in anticipation, the east was thinly manned. A massive force of skeletal soldiers scaled and took the west gate in under an hour.

The tactic was so unexpected that there was no possible defense. Since no one generally survived the necromancer king's wrath, Arthur had been unsure what the best defense style was. How ironic was it that his foolish son's tactics would be his downfall. No doubt the barbaric King Braginsky had stolen such strange ideas from Alfred's skull after killing him.

There was pounding on the barricaded door. The group of elite soldiers bunched around the king tensed. “Oh daaadddy... Let me innn!” a hauntingly familiar voice taunted through iron reinforced wood. “Alfred?” Arthur croaked in horror. He had hoped it was Francine, who had fled with their young son Peter and the court wizard over an hour ago.

There was a crack of sound as wooden barricade beams were splintered from immense invisible force. Arthur was well enough at magic to recognize the signs. The massive door swung open with a dry squeal, revealing three ominous figures surrounded by skeletal archers and warriors. One was obviously the dreaded skeleton king. He wore a black cloak with a red eagle.

His mysterious companion was well armed with a huge black sword, wrapped in red clothe with a black eagle. It had to be this rumored queen, or at least a general. The third figure was a young maiden in a black bonnet and dress, dark magic oozing from her trim figure like shadowy tendrils.

The red cloaked stranger flipped his helmet visor up, flashing a cheeky grin. “Hey dad... Don't you love family reunions?” Alfred greeted, his smile as dangerous as it was bright. “You were supposed to be dead.” Arthur sputtered, terrified. “Now, dear brother?” the delicate female asked, sickeningly sweet. “Yes Natalia. You can play.” King Braginsky confirmed, giving her a chaste kiss on a lace gloved hand.

She started giggling wildly, the room seeming sharply darker. The twenty trained soldiers sudden dropped their weapons, clutching at their necks and choking for air. One man took off his helmet, falling to his knees and vomiting blood. All the others followed suit, gurgling and dying slowly as they writhed on the ground. Arthur watched, petrified in horror.

The woman started singing to herself as she sat in one of the blood pools, a dying man's head in her lap. She appeared to be carving hearts out of her victim's skin with razor sharp nails, smiling joyfully.

“What are you even doing here, Alfred?” King Kirkland balked, unable to stop staring at his own impudent son. “Well, if you haven't noticed, I'm the new queen of the north lands. Vanya here thinks I'm hot stuff, and he's such a sweet heart. The sex is just phenomenal!” the boy prattled on, holding hands with the villainous figure beside him

“Please, my love.” Ivan protested modestly, wearing a dopey smirk. It was disgusting to see how much that dark magic lunatic lusted after the least competent of Arthur's many sons.

“But enough about me... You abandoned me! Did you even read the ransom requests he sent? I'm your own blood and you just... So you brought this upon yourself.” Alfred stated evenly. “What are... are you doing?” Arthur babbled, suddenly unable to move his arms or legs. “Do you like that daddy? It's a nice little trick my husband taught me. Dark magic is so... convenient.” the honey blond prattled as he drew his sword.

“You don't have to do this, I'm perfectly willing to negotiate. Just think about what your doing, son!” Arthur begged, starting to cry. “Good bye dad. I'll tell your future grandchildren you said hello.” Alfred crooned, sword point aimed at his father's throat. “Grandchildren?” Ivan echoed, looking horribly lovesick and pleased. Arthur wanted to throw up.

“Yes my king. I said I'd do all this queen stuff didn't I?” Alfred soothed. He then plunged the sword forward sharply. Everything went black for Arthur Kirkland.

#rusame #evil is hot #let's get medieval #russia #america #hetalia #fruk #wizards #i blame disney #Ivan is a necromancer #love

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