#before the war before they fell apart before friends became enemies and hands were stained before the beginning of the end im so so normal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taiyohima · 4 years

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“He Failed them”

Characters: Fukuzawa Yuchi, The ada, new character

Fic request by: @bloody-eyez

Type: Angst, Hurt no comfort

Words: 1,270

Warnings: Blood and gore, maybe cause intrusive thoughts so beware.

Summary: They were dead. All of the. Fukuzawa failed to save them from the fruit of his own mistakes.

Fic under the bar!

"Saccho," Ranpo called him out, "Who is this Robinson guy? Never heard of him." He said as he tossed the letter on Fukuzawa's desk.

"..Robinson...?" Fukuzawa raised an eyebrow as he took the letter and started opening it. He didn't remember any Robinson named guy. Who is this then? Keeping aside the envelope, that was neatly torn from its opening, he sat down on his chair, the letter in his hands. His eyes started tracing the words written in bold cursive writing. It read:

"When the battle is done, and you think that you have won- don't dance on my grave just yet.

If you are the moon I am the sun- I won't allow you to forget.

In my own time, I will take away from you what's mine- for I'm not your friend.

In the dark of nights In the depth of tides, I'll come to you then."

Fukuzawa started at the written nonsense for half a minute, before folding it and keeping it back in the envelope again. Maybe it was a mistake by the postman on delivering it here. Yeah, it was.

The sun deweled behind him and amber covering hit the room. A small breeze made his hair fly and the birds chirped softly. The faint noises coming from the agency whispered in his ears. Probably Kunikida shouting at Dazai again. All normal. Fukuzawa blinked at the ruby-amber sky before turning around to a photograph of him and his agency children.

They had rich smiles on their faces which beamed with happiness. He sighed, hoping this will stay forever.

~ ~ ~

The next day when Fukuzawa entered the agency, it was all silent. Deadly silent. The glasses were broken, tables and desks were flipped, some of them broken. The wall hangings and the photographs were all lurking on the wall like a dead ghost. There were gunshot holes everywhere and no agency member was present.

It couldn't be the mafia as they were on the truce. His attention was drawn to a knife that was stabbed inside the wall with a paper.

He rushed towards it, stabbing out the knife from the wall, as the paper fell off and rested near his feet. He picked it up only to find out that it was the same photograph of him and his children. Their faces were covered in red crosses and a big circle on Fukuzawa's photo was seen.

He turned the photograph around, finding an address that instructed him to follow it. Fukuzawa's eyes twitched at the sight of the address. 'Is this written with blood?' He thought sniffing it. '..Yeah, it is..' He nodded and thought it would be better if he followed this address. This better is something serious. And, off he was, locking the agency door behind. Just as he walked away, the board that read, 'The Armed Detective Agency' fell off with a loud THUD in the empty hallway, not knowing that there will be nobody to pick it up again...

~ ~ ~

The address leads Fukuzawa into a small dark alley, that smelled of fish and spinach. His silvery-blue eyes made their way towards the end of the alley, where there was a small open space, at which people of different organizations used to fight off before it became a baren sight.

Fukuzawa suddenly stopped a half a meter away from the ground. Horror filling him. There was a strong smell. The smell of bloodshed. The smell of heavy bloodlust. He rushed towards the baren ground. His heart racing and mind running. His slender feet stopped as they entered the ground, but the trantruma began.

Bodies soaked in a pool of their blood were laying mercilessly on the ground. Fukuzawa's eyes wild opened. His heartbeat became even faster. His hands and legs began to tremble. His heart was scattered and his blood came to a standstill. The bodies were none other than the fellows of the armed detective agency itself!

There was Kunikida, with his broken glasses and his dead body, leaning on the wall, his gun lying beside his cold hand. Yosano was laying somewhere near a broken light pole, drowning in a pool of her blood. Her knife beside her. Kenji and Tanizaki's bodies lay somewhere shredded in pieces. Atsushi lay near Dazai, with his tiger claws out, his white shirt, now crimson with blood. Dazai was hidden near a box, with blood dripping from his fingertips and face. Ranpo's right leg seems to be chopped off and his fluffy face was bewildered, staring at the sky, as blood dripped down his lips.

There was no sign of life. Some weapons were scattered on the ground, that too, with the same red covering. Fukuzawa's breathing stopped. His blood was no longer warm, but icy cold. His heart skipped beats and it felt like living a heart attack. His legs could not carry him any longer. His knees fell to the ground, raw emotions visible on his face. His throat went sore and eyes burned.

A sharp laugh echoed on the bloody graveyard and a tall man with a bred and piercings was seen. His clothes were stained with the blood of the agency members and he had a mischievous grin on his crooked face.

"Isn't this the same Silver Wolf, I saw years ago in the war of Shrishama?" He laughed coming closer to the grief-stricken Fukuzawa.

"Krub Ivan Robinson," His throat hurt, and his voice was now raspy "Your behind all this aren't you...?" Fukuzawa asked, his head still facing the ground.

"How can you be so dense. Of course, it's me, Fukuzawa." Robinson shrugged "You seem to have forgotten your old enemy, now haven't you?"

"Why..." Fukuzawa grunted his teeth. Anger and sadness filling him.

Robinson's playful gaze suddenly turned dark. "You killed my seven children in front of my own eyes. Ever since that, my wife hasn't eaten anything and she eventually died. Your selfish self took everything away from me. My wife, my kids... Isn't it fair about me taking yours?" He smiled, "I've heard that you had changed. And, well, the rumors are right." He straights himself "When, more specifically, how did the Silver wolf stooped hunting and started saving people from hunts?"

"It is against the wolf's nature, isn't it?" He leaned closer to Fukuzawa, only to be slashed into two pieces.

"The wolf can change his nature if he wants to." He said looking down on the body he just chopped off. "You just don't have to remind him of it."

Fukuzawa turned his gaze towards the dead ADA members. Their bodies all stiff and their faces flushed. Expect Dazai's, he had a faint smirk on his face, joying that it was finally over. Maybe his dream of a peaceful, painless death was not successful. What was he gonna tell Poe, Chuuya, Akutagawa, Kyukou, and Katai? Namoi will burst into tears once she knows and Kenji's family will fall apart. He wanted to reach out to them, but he was holden aback. By every breath he took, they became more dead. Their bodies rotting by every second.

The times that were the most fun seemed to be followed by sadness now, because it was when life started to feel like it did when they all were with him that he realized how utterly, totally gone they were. He tried to destroy the memories of them from his heart, but you cant destroy a made-up place. Fukuzawa stood there, starting down upon the lifeless bodies, knowing that he could never be anything but wholly, unforgivably guilty.

He failed all of them.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd fanfic #bsd fukuzawa #bsd dazai #bsd atsushi #bsd kunikida #bsd yosano #bsd kenji #bsd tanizaki #armed detective agency #if your wondering where Kyouka is #i forgot to write her-#sorry

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vaguekiwi · 4 years

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Whom Shall I Fear?

@tony-is-my-daddy posted this and my brain fucking broke down.

Whom Shall I Fear?

Pairings: Tony Stark x Peter Parker

Summary: 1 Samuel 16 - 17 but it’s Starker. (David in Saul’s Service, David and Goliath.) Tony is David and Peter is Jonathan and I have so much to say about this but I’m gonna put it at the very end.

Characters: David:Tony Stark, Jonathan:Peter Parker, Saul:Richard Parker (background unnamed Samuel, Goliath, and Merab.)

Word Count: ~2000

Other Inspiration: Sight by Sleeping at Last

Warnings: Biblical crossover/speculation, safe for work, not safe for church, hint of homophobia, inappropriate use of Biblical concepts/language

When they met, they were both still young.

There was a new attendant in the king’s court. He had dark hair and his neck was curved toward the instrument, so Peter could not see his face. But he handled the lyre carefully, almost reverently, as he played.

Peter itched for the man to turn his face, longed to see the rest of the full jaw in his view, wanted to see the colour of his eyes. Eyes which captured the lyre with an earnest focus, eyes which Peter was sure enamoured anything and anyone they looked at.

“Peter!” Peter started at the sound of the king’s voice, but was glad he did not sound angry or resigned.

“I apologise, my lord king.” Peter bowed when he addressed his father. He could feel those eyes on him now, fought the urge to turn.

“Peter,” King Richard straightened himself and waved his son in, “come, meet Anthony.” So Peter faced the musician who stood to bow.

Peter could see immediately that he could do more than play the lyre. His frame was strong and his eyes - Peter had been right - were bewitching pools of brown; traces of green and gold flashed in the man’s gaze as he looked Peter up and down.

“A warrior, too,” King Richard sighed as Peter shook Anthony’s hand, “yet to truly prove himself in battle, but that time will come. I find his songs… soothing.”

Anthony finally spoke, his cadence rough and gaze never leaving Peter’s face, “I am fortunate the Lord has blessed me with such a gift, my king.”

“Yes, thanks be to God.” The king mumbled, then shook his head. “To think your talents were being wasted so— herding sheep! It is good you have come here, Anthony.”

“I am grateful to be here, my king. And grateful too, for the beautiful instrument you have provided me.”

The king mumbled at that, and made a motion that he should continue playing. So Anthony sat down again and lifted the lyre.

Peter knew he had effectively been dismissed, but he lingered outside the door. He pressed his back to the wall and listened to Anthony’s music. He wondered why his cheeks were warm, and what the stirring in his stomach meant.

—

Anthony’s music did more than soothe the king. It stopped any temperamental episodes all together. The entire castle grew to welcome the sight of the young man with the lyre who could keep the king’s demons at bay.

He was not there all the time. He often went home to his family. Said tiredly that he needed to look after his father, help his brothers, and of course continue to watch the sheep.

When he was not there, King Richard became paranoid and angry. He threw things and spat heresy. The rumours troubled him; the ones that said King Richard had lost favour with God, that God had sent prophets to anoint a new king. Peter didn’t know whether to believe them or not, he just continued to pray for forgiveness for his father.

Then Anthony would return with his lyre, always carefully tuned and polished, and he would play to ease the king’s heart.

He sang too, beautiful homilies of faith and wonder; stories about far-off lands and battle glory. It was because he sang that Peter first got to know him.

“Anthony, are you alright?” He found the young man bending over a desk, a quill rolling between his fingers, lower lip tucked into his mouth.

“Prince Peter,” The shepherd looked up and their eyes met, and Peter wished they hadn’t. He did not want to feel surrounded the way he did by that gaze, like there was pressure on all sides and he was held down by it. Like he desperately needed to come up for air, but could not unless the strength and assurance in Anthony’s gaze gave such permission.

It was a strange feeling of authority, between prince and subject. But it also felt right.

Then Anthony turned his worried gaze back to the paper and he sighed in exasperation. “I am having trouble writing,” he admitted at length, “the words don’t come as easily as some might think.”

“What is it about?”

Peter stepped further into the room, wanting to thumb away the anxiety creasing Anthony’s forehead.

“Fear,” Anthony chewed his bottom lip and anxiously rubbed the fingers of one hand together so flakes of ink fell to the top of the desk. Peter looked down at the paper, the jumble tight print against the page.

The wicked advance against me to devour me, the armies besiege me, war breaks out against me.

There was no music written to the lyric, but Peter could imagine it easily. Could hear Anthony’s lilting voice while his fingers strummed the lyre.

Peter spoke, and put his finger to the top of the page, “if it is about fear, then what is it that gives you strength when afraid? Write about that.” And so Anthony put his quill to the page again and scrawled

The Lord is my light, whom shall I fear?

Then he went still and looked up at Peter.

“It’s… difficult to write, my prince. With someone watching… like this.”

Peter took several steps back which were too big, putting more distance between them than they needed. “Of course, I’m sorry.” He said and turned away. The wicked advance against me, armies besiege me. What did that mean? What did Anthony, the shepherd with the king’s favour, have to be afraid of?

Before Peter left, Anthony called:

“Thank you, Prince Peter.”

And so that became routine. Short moments in the afternoon sitting in an abandoned office; Peter prompted and Anthony’s words flowed. And come evening Peter snuck to the king’s chambers and listened for the finished song.

—

King Richard was right, Anthony did eventually have cause to prove himself in battle.

Peter watched from afar with a trembling lip as Anthony shed the armour he’d been given.

Anthony cast aside his sword and declared the Lord was with him. It was a haughty sentiment, Peter thought, when in theory the Lord was with all of them.

Peter watched the musician push his way to the front lines with only a sling and five smooth stones in hand. Peter turned away, feeling a deep loss at the prospect of his friend’s death. The man who had brought peace to the king’s tortured mind.

The army jeered. King Richard shook his head sadly.

Peter thought of the tales of heroism which had been borne from Anthony’s mind - and what a brilliant mind it was - and sent a prayer for the Lord to protect His servant.

Afterward, when Anthony held the enemy commander’s head aloft, when their army roared and their foes retreated, Peter looked cautiously to his father. They could hear the chanting from here:

Richard has slain his thousands

And Anthony his tens of thousands!

A thinly-veiled insult to the king, if ever there was one.

King Richard’s face was unreadable as he turned to an aide. “Bring the shepherd boy to me.” He ordered.

And Peter thought God must be weary by now of his prayers.

—

But the king did not kill Anthony.

Peter was waiting outside the tent when he emerged. Blood still stained his hands and his clothes were still torn, but now a handsome purple mantle had been draped over his shoulders.

“Anthony!”

“Prince Peter.”

They stood just a bit too far apart from one another, a setting sun casting them in golden light while the cheers of victory and scent of sweet wine filled the space between them.

“My father…”

“He did not hurt me,” Anthony shrugged off the mantle and trudged away. Peter hurried to follow him.

“Are you alright?”

Anthony took them away from the festivities, toward the back of camp and to the seclusion of the streams and veld beyond.

When they were too far for anyone to hear them, but probably still in sight, Anthony said: “Our lord king has asked me to stay with him. To advise. To lead your army.”

“That is a great honour,” Peter said, even though his heart clutched with worry, “your family will be proud.”

“Prince Peter,” Anthony stopped now and turned to face him. He rubbed two fingers together, they watched flakes of dried blood sift off and settle to the ground.

“Prince Peter, I fear I am an enemy of your father.”

Peter glanced furtively back to camp before asking, “Why do you say that?”

“Have you heard that another man was anointed by the prophets? To be king in your father’s stead?”

“Yes.” Peter was conscious of his heart racing in his chest. He had a suspicion of what Anthony would say next, he did not know if he was afraid of it or wanted it to be true.

“Peter, I cannot lose a battle.” With the honorific prince cast away, Peter felt like his own skin had been peeled back, like Anthony was looking down at something raw and something secret. Anthony shook his head and kicked his foot into the desert ground, “I can go up against a ten foot tall general without a sword and still win… apparently.”

Peter whispered: “If you are the man the rumours are about, then the king will want you dead.”

“Or he will want me leashed,” Anthony replied, “he has already offered your sister’s hand. A fine home. A title. He is already afraid of me.”

“There is good reason to be afraid of any man with the Lord’s favour.” Peter mumbled, and then gasped when Anthony stepped forward. He put one hand on the small of Peter’s back and the other on the side of his neck, Peter could still smell the blood on it. The stench of sweat flooded his nostrils and they were very close like this, pressed flush against one another.

“Are you afraid of me, Peter?”

Peter didn’t completely understand the question, but he understood what was happening. He understood the danger of it, the horror of it. He understood that anyone could look down on them from here, and if not recognise them they could recognise the sin of two men so close.

His voice shook, “This is an abomination, Anthony-”

But Anthony only held him tighter, “The Lord is my rock, my protection, my Saviour. I can run to him for safety. He is my shield and my saving strength, my defender.” They were his own lyrics, his breath hot on Peter’s neck as he growled them out, “the world cannot touch me, Peter. Not unless He wills it. And He won’t, His plans for me are grander than this one battle.”

They were both quiet, Peter’s breath was hoarse but he let himself hang in Anthony’s grip, pressed his chin into his palm.

Again: “Peter… are you afraid of me?”

“If the Lord has chosen you to be king, then whom shall I fear?”

Anthony smiled, and it was genuine. It was happy. It was born from goodness and patience, from peace, joy, and love.

And Peter reached for the soft woollen britches which Anthony wore, torn at the knees and along his thigh from the battle.

“May I worship my king?”

Anthony growled. It was a sound that sent a spike of heat through Peter’s whole body. That made his head white with electricity when their lips met.

“Only if I may reward my servant.”

--------

Notes from Grace:

Okay, there’s SO much potential to this story. Everything I have written here is before the Bible actually mentions David and Jonathan making their covenant together. Like after this, there’s chapters on King Saul hunting David, Jonathan helping him to escape, Jonathan manipulating and lying to his father to protect David, Saul lowkey realising they’re in love so lying to Jonathan and accusing David of stealing his son away and corrupting him. There’s this actual dialogue:

**David: Your father knows very well that I have found favour in your eyes

Jonathan: Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do for you

Jonathan: Don’t be afraid, my father Saul will not lay a hand on you. You will be king over Israel, and I will be second to you.

And these actual verses:

“So Jonathan made a covenant with the house of David, saying ‘May the Lord call David’s enemies to account.’ And Jonathan had David reaffirm his oath out of love for him, because he loved him as he loved himself.”

“Then they kissed each other and wept together — but David wept the most”

And David being on the run and Jonathan straight up sneaking away from his dad to meet up in a secret liaison like who can possibly say that wasn’t gay as hell?????

And Saul offering David two of his daughters’ hands in marriage and David being like “... nah.” while ‘affirming covenants’ with Jonathan left and right.

But this is all I wrote. If anyone’s into it I would encourage/welcome you to continue it and would love to be tagged in any such continuation.

**(I use an NIV Bible for 99% of my Bible needs)

#starker #starker fic #tony stark x peter parker #bible au #grace writes

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korkisobsessions · 4 years

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The Oath

XV. Hyung (Part 2)

Desperate screams were filling Deok Sung’s ears. He was sick when he laid a foot on the ground in Sumang village. He wanted to run away, but he was soldier. And soldiers follow the orders! But today he felt, this is the day he will loose his soul. He always followed Ahn Hyun, no exception, no question, loyalty. This was the first day he hesitated. He felt tight knot in his stomach that makes him want to vomit.

Dark was merciful, hide most of the brutal assassination of innocent sick people. Old or young. Women or men. It doesn’t matter. They were just instruments. Lord Ahn and Cho Hak Ju need only their bodies to fulfil their plan to save them. To save everyone, except this sick people. Their lives were sacrifice.

‘Their death will be our salvation’ he heard Cho Hak Ju’s poisonous voice. And his commander listened and makes the order.

Poor villagers were running for their lives without hope. Only people, who could save them, came to kill them.

Suddenly he heard cry. It was young boy hidden behind the fence. His face was covered with bloodied bandages. He could be just eight years old.

Deok Sung swallowed lump in his throat and kneel before crying boy. He knew who he was.

“It’s all right, don’t be scared.” He tried to calm him down. Boy was still sniffling, and in his palm he held tight grip on small carved soldier.

“What are you doing?” He sobbed and his eyes were watching slaughtering of his neighbours.

“Hey...look at me. I’m Deok Sung. You have a brother, am I right?” he tried to bring boys attention back to him. “Is he chakho?”

“Yes” boy whispered. “You know Yeong shin? Where is he?” boy stopped crying and came closer.

“Your brother is very brave man. He is fighting against the enemy, right now.” He was speaking with boy with gentle voice to calm him. Mention of his brother helps.

“Will he be all right? I’m scared!” there were tears again. Flames were sparkling in tears of young boy who was worried about his brother, who was probably dead now.

“He will be. You can help him, if you want?”

Boy has suddenly excitement in eyes. He didn’t even notice that one of soldiers killed his neighbour and watch them.

“I want to!”

“You just need to close your eyes boy...” Deok Sung swallowed tears and held tight grip on rope in his hands. “Don’t be scared and close your eyes. You will help him....”

-In the same time, but different place.-

He always thought that when it comes to hardest part of the war, the weather will be same. That nature will be in same mood. That it will be raining or something.

But it was here and sun was shining, sky was clear. If soldiers didn’t crush them into the ground, flowers will be probably blooming in here.

But soil was wet with so much blood, it became slipping mud. Sun was blinding and air was hot.

Yeong shin was in the middle of nightmare. His breath fast and shallow, like he was drowning. Shouting of man deafening and mass of human flesh was like water and he was drowning. He shoot samurai right in the face and man’s head fell backwards, body following. He patted pouch hanging from his belt and found it empty. No gunpowder, no ammo.

So he grabbed his rifle with both hands and hit another Japanese soldier with handle. Byung Chul then stabs him in the neck with his short sword.

“Nice hit, kid.” His face was covered in blood of enemies. His silver hair almost red. “Watch out!” he shout. Yeong shin turn but it was too late.

Sharp pain exploded in his shoulder. He just saw quick flash of blade sticking out of his skin. He was too shock that he didn’t even start bleeding in that moment. Japanese soldier was screaming like he won, but Byung Chul’s knife hit him in the eye and that was his end.

When the soldier fell, he pulled out his sword from Yeong shins shoulder. Blood suddenly drenched his shirt and stick fabric to his skin.

“It’s all right, kid. Just don’t move.” His master was by his side to catch him. He didn’t even realised he was falling. Byung-Chul pressed piece of cloth to the wound and tied it with his belt. Yeong shin clenched his teeth and let out sharp breath. “You have been through worse.”

“I know, it’s just scratch.” All around them were madness. Soldiers were running around them, fighting and dying, stumbling over corpses of their fellow soldiers.

But for a moment Yeong shin looked into Byung Chul’s eyes...and knew. They were father and son, not by blood, but by fate.

Byung Chul squeezes his hand and helps him to his feet. “Let’s get you to healer and...” he didn’t finish the sentence. In one moment lot of things happened.

Sun fell down and chill bit their bones. He heard shouting and cry of pure terror. He heard a lot of kinds of cry. Painful, sorrowful, angry...but he never heard men scream like this. It was fear in its clearest form. Chill run down his spine

Byung Chul jerked himself wen his torso pierced a blade. His face full of pain. Crimson stain bloom on his shirt. Few drops of blood escape his lips when he coughs and his face grimaced with pain.

“MASTER!” Yeong shin cried and tried to catch him, but mass of men swallow them and rip their hands apart. Huge samurai came to his way, prepared to kill him, but young chakho felt rage boiling in his veins. He had no gun, just his bare hands. He jumped on the man, knocking him to the ground with such strength that the soldier lost his helmet. Yeong shin forgot his wound, he just saw his enemy and hit him in the face with his fist. Again and again he was bringing his fist down. Men’s teeth and bones scratching his knuckles. He didn’t even know he was screaming like a wild animal beating man’s face to mash. It was another soldier who stumbled over him who woke him up and he realised he beat his enemy to death. Tears were running down his cheeks when he desperately searching Byung Chul’s silver hair.

“Can you help me my friend?” someone grabs his hand. It was man lying on the ground, with pale face. “I tripped and I can’t stand.” man was violently shaking still gripping his hand. “Help me get up, friend?”

Yeong shin wanted to scream when he noticed soldier’s legs chopped of above the knees. Man was still trying to stand up but failing. Blood and limps were everywhere. Night was getting darker but fight didn’t stops. He was desperately looking for his master, calling his name until his throat was sore and he lost his voice. He was tripping and falling over bodies and hallucinating... He must be. He saw man biting another man in the neck, drinking his blood and feasting on his meat.

And then another mass of bodies flew over him. Men fearfully running away hit him like big hammer. He almost fell, and caught closest man. It was Japanese soldier with eyes full of terror. Yeong shin didn’t have a chance to say something, or run. His enemy stab him to his abdomen. He pressed his palms to new wound and found himself falling. There was no Byung Chul to catch him.

Hard ground took his breath away, another bodies falling over him, burying him alive and suffocating last remains of life.

It was over.

War was over.

For him.

“Yeong shin, please don’t...I’m sorry!” Nilah was desperately crying in front of him. She was kneeling in pouring rain holding his hand. He didn’t know how he gets there. Outside of the house on the river band. “Please, I’m sorry. I will not ask again, just come back to me!” her wet trembling lips woke him up and he held her shoulders to look at her. He was too lost in painful memories he completely lost his head.

“My name....” he whispered with raspy voice.

“I don’t care! It doesn’t matter. I love you. I don’t care what your name is.” She pulls him into her arms and tried to stop sobbing, but failed. His empty eyes and bleeding palm scared her. She stupidly asks what his real name is. His face paled, and cup in his hand cracked, cutting his skin and leaving bloody stains on the table. Without a word he left and disappeared in the dark rainy night. She found him few hours later siting on the bank like frozen statue.

“My real name is...” he tried to swallow hard lump in his throat, but his voice still sounded broken

“My real name is Seo Yeong shin.”

He let out deep breath. Like he got rid of heavy burden.

“But... I don’t understand...” Nilah was confused. Last time she heard that his name Yeong shin was stolen from death man.

And then suddenly she understood...

“You are that dead man.”

“Hey! Can you help me? There is big pile of bodies.” silenced voices came to him like it was just a dream. He tried to open his eyes, but something was pressed to his face almost suffocating him. And it stinks like...

...like dead man.

Rough fabric of corpse’s uniform was scratching his face, but it was his slightest problem.

Someone pulled dead weight from him and fresh air filled his lungs. He was catching the air, trying to open his eyes but sun was too blinding.

“Oh! Someone is here, alive!” scream someone, poking to his shoulder, he tried to lift his hand and shove him aside but he was too weak to move.

“That’s bullshit. No one survived that massacre! “ shout another voice from distance.

“But he moved and gasped!”

“It’s probably just gas. Take his tag and let’s go.”

Man patted his pockets and takes his identification tag. Yeong shin tried to fight, but his limbs were not listening. He was badly injured and loses a lot of blood. And now they took his name like he was dead. He was desperately trying to move, or make a sound. If they will take his tag, he will be declared as a dead. They will come to Sumang and tell his brother that his older brother died in war. He will though, that he is alone in this world. Sick and lonely boy without family, without someone who will change his bandages. Without money and without home. He can’t let his brother feel like this even for a second. He cannot betray him. He gives him a promise that he will come back.

He already lost Byung Chul. Painful memory of his master’s face clenched ice cold fist around his heart. Crimson blood dripping from his mouth, his hand desperately holding his...

Yeong shin wanted to scream, to cry, to fight, to have control over his body...

He tried to call for help but his throat was too sore from screaming Byung Chul’s name and too dry from thirst.

He remembered the day he became chakho. How he thought he will die in that muddy pit, but he fight and survived. Than that day when tiger ripped his chest and almost killed him. He clenched his fists, rose up and survived.

He growl like animal and made a move. He stands up, holding a hand against his still bleeding abdomen and made a step forward.

When he looked around, all he could see was piles of bodies laid one over another. Japan, or Sangju, it doesn’t matter; they were dead in the same way.

He was making slow steps and sun was blinding. He felt blood dripping between his fingers and for a while he thought, what is he doing? He will come home and die in arms of his little brother.

“I will not die Byung Chul!” he whispered, with taste of blood on his tongue. “I’m chakho and we live against all odds.”

It was like his mantra. He keeps mumbling it making slow steps towards home.

He felt sick when he reaches the border of Sumang.

His village was gone. Hot tears were streaming down his face when he saw that disaster. Houses were destroyed and burned to the ground. Dead bodies everywhere. The place he used to called ‘home’; place where he was born, where he grew up was gone.

“No, no, no...Where is my brother??” he murmured like insane. And he really thought he is loosing his mind. He wanted to shout his name but he was scared he will not answer.

Just for a last moment he wanted to keep hope. He didn’t want to face the silence.

And than he saw him.

Lord Ahn Hyun was standing in the middle of Sumang like from the most terrible nightmare. His clothes were dirty and bloody, he was still bleeding from several wounds. His face was full of deep pain and regrets.

Yeong shin lost his balance and fell to his knees when he recognized that round ‘thing’ in Ahn Hyun’s arms. He recognized that long hair tangled in braid and bloody bandages.

It was head of his little brother. His only family.

“No!” he screams and found last pieces of life. He made quick move to commander. He wanted just one thing. To kill him. It was all Ahn Hyun’s fault. All this madness and destruction was his and Cho Hak Joo’s fault.

All he wanted was pierced his heart with dagger. Scream left his lips but he couldn’t reach him and find his revenge.

Hard blown to back of his head send him to unconsciousness.

Deok Sung was standing above desperate chakho, taking his sword back. Face of young captain was pale and his hands were shaking.

“My lord!” he bow his head in front of Ahn Hyun.

“Take him to healer and leave.”

“Yes my lord.”

“We won captain. That’s all that matters.” But commander’s voice shook when he spoke.

~°~

Yeongshin woke up...

For the truth...he didn’t woke up. He just opens his eyes. That state couldn’t be taken as consciousness.

He never felt like this.

Like nothing.

Like no one.

He had no home. His village was burned to the ground.

He had no friends. His only friend Byung Chul was dead. He didn’t even have a chance to pay him respect and buried him.

And he had no family. His parents were dead and his little brother. Brutally murdered, his body violated. His innocent body used as a lethal hideous weapon.

Yeongshin couldn’t...he just couldn’t keep on living.

“Finally you are awake.” Young man came to him and gives him bowl with soup. “Eat slowly, you barely made it. Your stomach was tear to shreds, but captain bring good physician.”

“Fuck him.” Yeongshin growl and stood up from makeshift bed. He was in some infirmary, wounded and dead soldiers were everywhere.

He was in terrible pain, but he didn’t want to stay in that place anymore.

His steps lead to big board with list of names of dead.

His eyes were searching until he found it.

~Seo Mingu; Sumang – killed in battle~

Tears sting in his eyes when he saw his brother´s name. And then he froze. Right there, just under...

~Seo Yeong shin; Sumang – killed in battle~

“What...no....!” Cold fist of fear griped his spine and shook with him. He quickly limped closer and read it again and again. His name was still there, telling him, he is dead.

He made it quickly to nearest magistrate. Holding tight grip on his stomach that was pulsing with pain. He even tastes blood in his mouth.

Old magistrate was sitting behind table and barely lift his eyes.

“What do you want?” his voice was tired and annoyed.

“My name is on the list of dead. But I’m not.” he touched his chest to felt his beating heart, because he was loosing the fate.

“Do you have identity tag?” old man looked at him with distrust.

“No...Someone took it from me, when I was injured.”

“And what is your name?”

“Seo Yeong shin. From Sumang”

Magistrate’s face twitch. But he opened his book and looked for his name. And there he was. His name with red stamp over it. Dead.

“Yeong shin is dead. Now leave.”

“I’m not dead!” Yeongshin screamed and hit the table with his fists.

“Yeah, I know your tricks. Identity thieves.” Magistrate hissed to his face. “Guards! Get him away!”

“No! Don’t touch me!” he missed the pair of guard, who was trying to catch him. But another took him from behind. “I’m alive! Yeong shin! Seo Yeong shin from Sumang is alive!” He tried to fight, but the pain was unbearable. His insides were ripping apart and he starts coughing blood. “Please...I’m not dead!” guard who caught him, had mercy. He carefully let Yeong shin lean on him and guide him out of the town.

“Listen friend. If you don’t have tag, I know a man who can make you new one.”

But Yeong shin wasn’t listening. He looses the last drop. Except home, friend and family, he lost his name.”

“...I visited that man and he made me new identity tag. But I’m still officially dead.”

Yeongshin finished his story and take a sip of hot tea. He was still shaking, even though Nilah brought him back home, give him dry clothes and blanket over his shoulders.

She was listening, treating his cut palm with strip of bandage and trying not to look to his face. If she would raise her eyes he will see tears and sadness.

“Nilah, it’s...” he gently touches her face and wiped away tear with his thumb.

She burs in tears, hiding her face. It was like waterfall of emotions.

“I can’t stand it. I’m sorry. How could they...?” she was sobbing so hard that Yeongshin must hold her tightly, tears soaking his clean shirt. “I remember nights, when I was looking to the sky, watching stars and making a wish that with some miracle Lord Ahn Hyun will become my father...but he was same monster as my real father is.”

Yeong shin press his lips to Nilah’s hair, her scent was pulling him out of bad memories. It was different life. That man who he was, was long gone. He wasn’t chakho, soldier or brother anymore. Now he was just a man, who belongs to this beautiful woman. And that was all that matter.

“Nilah, please don’t be sad. I wasn’t telling you this story to make you feel sorry for me.”

She wiped away tears and look to his eyes. There was that deep sadness that was usual for Yeong shin that he will probably never get rid of. But those eyes had gentle and caring smile.

“I just want you to know that I never lied to you about anything. You know me whole from the beginning.”

“I love you Seo Yeong shin.” She whispered sealing it with gentle kiss.

He held her closer with hand on the back of her neck savouring her lips. He never gets enough of her taste even if she tastes like tears. It was his Nilah, brave woman, tough fighter, but someone who had the most beautiful heart full of compassion.

Yeong shin’s heart was beating fast when he carefully laid her down on the floor.

She dug her bare hands to his shirt, untying it and revealed his torso. She lifted her head and touch his chest with warm lips, loosing her mind, when he silently moaned when her tongue touch his scar.

His body was above her, pressing her gently to the ground, his knees between her crouched legs.

“Can I-?” he whispered with shaky breath, touching the hem of her shirt. She can’t speak too full of emotions and love, she just nodded.

Yeong shin undress her slowly with steady hands, his lips parted and eyes bright.

Nilah helped him peel of his shirt, pulling it from his arms. She was nervous and calm in the same time when he kicks down his pants. She suddenly saw new scars that she can’t saw before. One nasty devious scar on his hip and that scar that almost cost his life, from samurai’s sword right next to his navel.

“Are you cold? You are shaking.” He whispered when he noticed unrest of her limbs.

“No.”

“Should I stop?” he tried to read her face, looking for any sight of fear.

“No, please, don’t stop.” Nilah held his hand pulling him closer. His lips widened in pleased smile.

Nilah felt like her lungs can’t took more of air, when his warm skin lied flush against hers. And he cradles her head in his hands engulfing her lips with his.

Her fingertips raked up his backs, tracing patterns of his scars while her tights trembled at the sounds he made his voice deep in hollow of his throat strangled and rough, so unlike his touch.

“Nilah, do you want me?” he whispered in her ear his breath hot against her skin.

She again said nothing, deepened the kiss, his tongue warm and tempting. Nilah get her courage and touch him where she thought she will never touch a man.

Yeong shin made a sound that she never heard from him. It was like vulnerable whimper.

“I’m sorry...did...did I hurt you?” She wanted to put her hand away, but Yeong shin’s hand stopped her.

“No, it’s perfect. You are perfect...too perfect for me.” He lean his forehead against hers taking deep breath. “No matter what you say, you are beautiful, gentle noble lady. Like delicate flower.” He kissed her temple his hands caressing her belly and gentle curve of her breasts. “My hands are too rough to your silky skin, Even though I saw you fight, I’m still scared that I broke you if I’m not careful enough.”

“You don’t have to be scared, you will never hurt me. “

She brought her hips up and guides him to her warm centre.

She would lie if she tells she wasn’t scared. That even part of her wasn’t thinking about that day when Sang-Ho violently took her. How it hurts when he pushed himself inside her in one swift move. How she cried and scream. How she bleed after that...

But Yeong shin was something completely different. He was slow and careful when he dipped inside her, controlling her face like he knew all her fears.

He watched her with awe when she gets used to him and her eyes spark like thousands of stars when his hips were tightly pressed against hers.

He starts moving holding her in tight embrace to feel her as close as was possible, sharing every inhale with her, memorizing every inch of her beautiful face, every flicker of eyelashes, every touch of her lips.

If he ever gets lost, surrounded by the horde of undead, this was the things worth of fighting. To see, touch and feel her again.

How long he longed to be with her like this, to feel her trembling underneath him, to love her with his whole body and soul. That road was long and full of obstacles, but the price was worth it. They were together, in their own home, with hopeful future.

She moaned when he touched her down there, like before and her breath shortens. He keeps circling that bundle of joy with his fingertip, pushing into her and his lips touched scar on her collarbone. Her breath hitched when her back arched and she let out cry of pleasure.

It took him just a few more thrust to follow her to beautiful bliss.

“I love you Nilah.” He breathes out against skin of her neck. “You are everything.”

Nilah felt just pure joy. Smiling and holding her lover who lay on her chest catching his wild breath.

“Did you do this before?” she asked. She was curious if he ever cared about some woman before.

Yeong shin cover their naked bodies with blanket and lay back next to her on his back. He held her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“I did. But not like this. Never with someone I love. This was much better.”

#kingdom #kingdom netflix #kingdom 2019 #kingdom2019 #yeongshin #yeong shin #fanfiction #writing

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dakotafm · 4 years

Text

welcome to chatsworth academy , 𝓭𝓪𝓴𝓸𝓽𝓪 𝓿𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮 . it says here , that you are twenty , in second year and that your parents are high fashion models and the co founders of the valentine’s hotel chain ? is it true high school you were voted most likely to be asked for an id at the age of 30 , well , that’s interesting .

greetings cuties ! i literally suck at introductions so i apologize for this ugly mess , asdfg . however , i am so excited to be here and even more excited to be bringing you dakota !!! before we start though , i’m gi ! i go by she and her pronouns and am the baby age of nineteen ! enough about me though asdf , if you want to do some plotting please heart this or message me on discord and i will come bother you :)

* 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 .

luscious red wine staining plump petals , avoiding disapproval under black rims that hide reckless tales of the night before , collar bones decorated by diamonds and love bites , painted fingertips dancing across honeyed skin , whispers of dreams lost in the breeze of the night , bloodshot hues enchanted by the rising sun , moonlight encouraging impulsive decisions , expectations wrapping a collar around her throat and tugging every time she plans a escape .

* 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 .

full name. dakota jo valentine . nickname(s). ko , kota , dj . preferred name. dakota . past age. twenty . date of birth. july twenty first . zodiac. cancer . gender. cis woman . pronouns. she and her . sexuality. bisexual .

* 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒 .

( TRIGGER WARNING :: car accident and death mention )

the words you’re trouble lost in bronze hues that had stars twinkling in them , dismissed by digits waving to say she’s just the baby ; she’d run wild , footsteps bouncing off of the million dollar walls and then she’d be tamed . wrong . attempts to leash the boisterous brunette meet with retaliation , disappointment painted across authority features , and new words that asked what are we going to do with her ?

not a disrespectful kid , just one of sovereignty , one with expectations too large for her little body . and one that had the world in the palm of her hands who swore to the heavens above that she’d suck the life out of it before she sits properly and marries the thousands of hotels that had her name and her three other siblings name craved into the walls .

had comments in her ears from the moment she inhaled her first breath . dakota is destined for eminence . dakota is nothing like her sister . dakota is too much . dakota is disobedient . dakota is ungrateful . dakota is selfish . didn’t have a chance to figure out herself on her own terms and eventually fell to the knees of the idea that she was simply never who ��people would want her to be .

her dad was her worst enemy , so she would say . he was the product of controlling parents and carried a legacy on his back : it made him a monster . true to the cold hearted businessman trope . you did as he said , you acted as he said , you played his game his way . dakota spent most of her teens sneaking out of her bedroom window and jetting off with whomever would drive her dad the craziest . did things to spite him . the tabloids adored her for her outspoken and bold ways ... but they also tore her apart at every chance they got . but no one could ever top her father , if there was a dakota hate training riding around he was the driver .

her mom understood her in ways that no one else could , behind her brother of course , she was the spitting image and the impetuousness , the adventurousness , the fire that burned bright was handed down . her mother was her world , one of the few people who was always by her side , the mediator , the one who collected all her tears and bandage wounds of feeling like she was not good enough . and then her mother was taken by a snowy road and a tired driver who closed his eyes for just a minute .

it’s been two years but the lost of her mother bleeds like the knife had just stabbed her . her relationship with her father worsen , her siblings played a game of war , and she was still doing her best to pick up the broken pieces .... not fast enough though . her grief driving her to do unspeakable things ( crashing her fathers bugatti la voiture noire , ruining her father’s grand opening of his new hotel with a drunken speech and a big fuck you ) . he could not handle her self destructing children so , he sent them away . gave them the simple choice of chatsworth academy away from beverly hills , and the united states in general , or be cut off for good ... disowned . with a little bit of convincing she choose a fat bank account and trouble overseas .

* 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒 .

the love of dakota’s life lays within a paint brush and a blank canvas . art has been a form of expression for the brunette for as long as she could remember . she’s mostly a fan of portraits , loves drawing facial features more then anything but loves a good landscape painting as well . though she’s capable of mostly everything and want as far as giving poke tattoos to her friends her senior year . it’s what she’s studying .

she took up soccer in middle school and has been at it ever since , at first it was to please her parents , or more so help her mom out ( or as her father would say give her something to do other then get in trouble ) but eventually became quite fond of the sport and pursue it even after high school .

she has three older siblings , one of which is in his thirties and the other two much closer to her age . she does not get along with her sister , at all . some would say different personalities but dakota will tell you it’s because she’s just like their father . she is however super close with her brother who’s only a year older then her , and has always been . those two are two peas in a pod .

she’s a bit all over the place , and depending on how much you know her she’s either the light of your life or a pain in the ass ( okay i lied , she’s always a pain in the ass ) . she’s the girl who’s always making the stupid decisions , swears she’s untouchable , is loud and lively but just as dark and twisted .

she might fake her confidence but truth is she swears she’s not good enough and it affects her romantic relationships a lot . self sabotages to prove her point .

* 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 .

a group of friends of all different dynamics who are more like family then anything .

a unhealthy somewhat toxic on and off relationship .

a best friend or more so platonic soulmates .

flirtationship that also falls into a will they wont they .

soccer teammates that she views as good friends but some who she bumps heads with .

that bad influence who also plays into the label of partner in crime .

ex friends and/or ex best friends .

on and off friendship for whatever reason .

* literally give me everything and anything !!!

#CHATSWORTH.INTRO #this is such a mess wow #but !!#i wish yous could hear me screaming of excitement !!!!!#cant wait to write with you guys #TW DEATH MENTION #TW MENTION OF CAR ACCIDENT

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wongiemei · 4 years

Text

4. Fool

Thousands of years ago, many kingdoms were scattered around the world.

Civilizations from the Egyptians to the Mesopotamians, everyone lived in their respective territories without any concern. However, war usually broke out among these human kingdoms and sometimes, found victory to be too far away so they enlisted the help of the Underworld.

This world remained hidden from plain sight with the use of magic and they couldn’t risk the revelation of these curious little humans. From faes to werewolves and vampires to witches, the supernatural beings of the unknown world were trying to be safe.

However, as the great Pharaoh Khufu neared his deathbed, his doctors gained information about ways to preserve his life and his legacy. The Great Pyramid of Giza was only made possible by the help of the witches from the Kingdom Meraki. Khufu exchanged his soul for the creation of his pyramid, including spells and enchantments specifically to keep out unwanted visitors and robbers. Due to Meraki’s reputation of being the artistic and architectural kingdom, the pyramid remained intact for thousands of years.

This agreement between the Merakis and the Egyptians formed the first alliance of the Human and the Underworld. Egypt became a superpower during its time.

But of course, there comes a time where everything will eventually fall apart, no matter what spells or enchantments were placed to preserve the pact.

An arranged marriage between an Egyptian prince and a Meraki princess was supposed to strengthen the alliance but with the news of the death of the princess crushed that hope. Furthermore, the prince was accused with killing the girl as he was thought to experiment and research their kind and what made them so different.

With anger from the betrayal of the humans, Meraki, along with their Underworld kingdom allies, snarled at the Egyptians and the rest of the Other World, developing a deep hatred as one of their kind was killed by the hands of a human.

The High Meraki King, Suleimon, was driven mad with the death of his daughter and forever cursed Egypt, never letting them be a stable kingdom for as long as they stand.

A crime in one of the Kingdoms was a crime to all of the Underworld.

Although you’ve never been good at planning, this auction seemed to be taking a lot of your energy. With the stress of it and combined with the sudden intense thirst for blood made it hard for you to even focus at all. Inviting Jisung for a midnight hunt in Australia, you both satisfied your hunger from this town called Riverun, disguising the mangled corpses as murdered bodies.

Jaemin noticed your skittish and different behavior and-he couldn’t believe it himself-was slightly worried.

He often found you slumped over your desk in your office or already passed out on the bed by the time he got home from hanging out with the others. It was known that vampires don’t get physically tired but they were most vulnerable and capable to breaking down under mental exhaustion.

Holding a glass of pig’s blood and walking towards the familiar gold door on the right, he casually walked in without bothering to knock.

“What is it, Orendian?” You didn’t even look up as you knew who it was based on the scent he carried.

Peaches and Chocolate.

“Visited Mother and Father today. It wasn’t a pleasant appearance but they have grown to live with it. After all, the fate of their country rests on my hands. It’s best if they don’t anger me otherwise,” he answered.

A sigh escaped your lips and you massaged your temple with your right hand. “What do you really want, Na Jaemin? Because I know for sure you’re not just here for small talk.”

Placing down the glass on the coffee table in front of the fireplace, Jaemin leaned against the wall and crossed his arms before speaking. “I have grown worried about your health, Kalon spawn. This auction is not as big of a deal as it is. You being too exhausted to even speak to the press with me, or even being too tired to make love to me at night, has caused quite a concern.”

Finally looking up and peering at him through your circle glasses, you sent him a glare and growled. “You’re nothing but a face to the kingdom and a horny little shit. I’d hate to kill you before you could even wear that ridiculous green crown of yours.” Your fingers went up to slowly take off your rims and held it for a second before sending him a sickly sweet smile. “So if you could, the door is right there. I can’t be bothered to show you out.”

It seems that little comment angered him as he marched up to you and roughly placed his hands on the oak table. His red eyes glared into your own and he slightly bared his fangs.

“Do not speak to me like that, you dirty blood spawn.”

“Then don’t treat me as if I’m just a toy that you can play with and take with you wherever you want. I’m a woman, Na Jaemin. So treat me like one.”

Days after your spat, you haven’t exactly spoken any words to him as you were usually asleep when he arrived or he was asleep when you climbed on the bed. This time, it was the same thing. Except today, he wore nothing so you were able to see his bare chest. Propping yourself on your elbow, you laid on your side and examined every little eyelash as you couldn’t fall asleep. It wandered down to his ridiculously perfect nose, to his cupid’s bow, and to his plump lips that looked a little dry from the gusts of wind that came in through the small window.

If he wasn’t such a dick and a bitch, he would’ve looked handsome to your eyes. But the way he has treated you has made it nearly impossible for you to be able to see him as nothing but a little shit.

Eventually wandering down to his neck and Adam’s apple, you noticed about a dozen green lines that looked really familiar to you. Seeing the faint lines trailing farther, you clenched your jaw in anger and fury.

You may hate his guts but you weren’t able to let him be killed by someone else.

You will be the one to do so.

After a particularly late night with just hanging up on the phone with Donghyuck, you entered the bedroom with Jaemin sipping his nightly tea and Jun bowing towards you before starting to the door. Smelling a particularly strong smell, you almost stumbled walking towards the bed and your eyes widened, immediately recognizing it.

With a quick flick, the delicate China cup fell from his hands and the contents of it spilled below on the beige carpet. Jaemin looked at you irritably and just looked at you with a slightly glare and furrowed eyebrows.

“What the fuck?” he drawled out. Your eyes flickered from the wet stain to his eyes and you scoffed.

“Are you a prince or not? More, a vampire prince? You idiotic excuse of royalty! How could you regard the cup was practically filled with poison! What’s more, fucking holy water!” You shrieked and Jaemin’s face shifted.

At first, he was shocked and completely confused but now, he was more than angry. He was murderous and livid.

“What did you just say?” An angry whisper pushed itself from his mouth and you grabbed his chin and pushed it up, making the view of his neck more visible.

“I noticed these green lines a few nights ago. I didn’t think much of it but I’m pretty sure what this is from. Someone has been poisoning you, Jaemin. I can smell that holy water and they must’ve used it to brew your tea.”

The only logical reasoning made you look up at him, teeth biting at your bottom lip. “The only thing I can think of is Jun-”

“Jun would never betray me like this. He’s been with me since I was a child. He would never do such a thing.”

“What else is there? Who else is there to blame?”

He wasn’t sure if he even believes you.

You can tell by the way his eyes inspected you that he thought you were just playing a game. Lying to him. But you bent down, bracing yourself as you touched the little bit of liquid still resting on the cup. You hissed at the slight pain and it confirmed your suspicions.

“it’s poisoned, Jaemin.” You confirmed and his brows continued to knit together. “However, I don’t know how you or Jun don’t smell it, or even feel it. There’s no marking on your body that indicates a charm and these faded lines show that this has been happening for a while. If I’m correct, even way before we were married.”

Jaemin just stared at you, emotion clear from his face. Such a serious accusation against one of his trusted men by a Kalonian princess. Who was he to believe?

“I believe you have been tricked so much in your life that you have no problem but to look past everything else and accuse my butler immediately.” Jaemin’s voice deepened considerably and you knew he was a little angry at your lack of faith to Jun.

A hint of a smirk flitted past your lips. “He’s nothing but a butler to you, prince. Yet, why do you protect him so?” Your head cocked to the side, curiously. “We can keep our friends at an arm’s length but our enemies can be hidden in the shadows behind us. That’s why I have no problem mentioning him as a suspect. In the end of the day, I am alone. You are alone. So what kind of fool lets himself be fooled by a little bit of friendship?”

In a blink of an eye, Jaemin has pinned against his wall beside the long window with his arm pressed against your throat.

“What did you just call me?” He hissed, expecting you to cower away from his fangs.

But you just placed a sly smile. “A fool.”

He pressed harder and your eyebrows knitted together, slightly pained. “But it’s okay. Sometimes you have to change your role as a prince to a fool. To be the fool to fool the fool who think they’re fooling you.”

He paused and looked at you different. “This is not a simple play that I can easily change my character and expect an understudy to take over. I am the future king of Kalon and Orenda, princess. I can’t trust anyone to bear the weight of that title other than myself.”

The pained expression behind his cold facade in his eyes made you wince as it felt familiar to you and you just can’t help but softly place a hand on his cheek. The bags under his eyes made it clear of the pressure being placed upon by his parents as he neared his coronation age. Although he never mentioned it to you, the reason for his visit to his family’s house was to prepare him for what’s to come.

And he didn’t like it.

“What do you expect me to do with Y/N?! Huh? What about her?!”

“It should be easy to you, Jaemin. She’s just a girl. A princess, sure, but just a girl. Once this is all over, you can have your pick at any girl you’d like.”

It took a bit of legilimency and it wasn’t easy as you were out of practice but with the help of the library and ancient Meraki spellbooks hidden away, you were able to look into his memories and you were shocked to see his defiance and refusal to betray you.

Despite everything he has done to you, you have equally tortured him and you didn’t think he was so bad. If anything, you were both the same.

“I was wed to you because my purpose is to share the burden with you, not to just be a handbag on your arm for the public. And I still stand by my statement. It’s okay to not be the prince for a second. You’re still a child, for devil’s sake. A foolish child, but it’s okay.”

Jaemin loosened the pressure and he looked down, his fringe covering his face. His fist shook with anger and he finally looked up to you with raging eyes. “It wasn’t my fault that I was placed into this life and I never asked to be the crowned prince. Don’t you think I have wanted to just be a child before? To go to parties and go to university like the other vampire children? But I can’t. I can’t because I was given the short end of the stick.”

A sympathetic expression graced your face and you couldn’t believe it but you gave him a slightly soft smile, understanding his pain. “I think we all have. But it’s harder for me because I’m just a woman. For me, it wasn’t to be a child. It was to be a man and be able to express myself without the restrictions of my gender. I couldn’t even tell you the amount of times I’ve been shot down and my ideas thrown out of the window because of what I look like. So we’re in the same boat, Na Jaemin. I can’t believe it’s taken us this long but we need to look out for each other. If we want to change the ideals of our families and countries, we must change and break away from the strings of our puppets.”

For the first time since he married you, Na Jaemin looked past your dress and your face. He saw a prisoner trying to get out.

He saw him.

Inviting him out for tea, Jaemin sounded genuinely surprised as Jun delivered the message from you. After several talks about the poisoning, Jaemin has become quite leery of Jun and was very suspicious as you even wanting to do anything with him was very unlike you.

Keeping on guard and watching Jun’s every move, he followed him out to the courtyard and let out a relieved sigh at the sight of you reading. He walked towards the table and saw an array of sweet edibles.

“I thought you didn’t like sugar?” He asked as he sat down. You looked up at him from your book and sniffed.

“Of course, I don’t. But you do.” You answered. “Also, peach tea, your favorite. I was unsure of how many sugar cubes you placed in it so I’ve just left it out.” You added before returning back to your book.

All he could do was look at you in shock.

How could you remember his affinity for sweets? Also, not minding the smell of the sweet tea even though nothing infuriated you more than the smell of peaches.

“Jun, could you leave us for a moment?” You asked without looking up from your book.

Jaemin saw Jun curtly nod and walk away through the doors and back to the house.

“What was that about?” He asked before shoving a cookie in his mouth.

Looking up, your lips curled at the crumbs around his lips and grabbed a napkin to wipe his lips. “Oh, do mind your manners, Orendian.” He stared at your face as it concentrated on getting rid of the bits of crumbs with the white napkin. “Anyways, I have done some research and of course, I was right.”

He chuckled after taking a sip of his tea and wiping his lips. “Quite a confidence there, princess.”

“Well, I touched the liquid and it was indeed holy water and the fainter the lines are, the longer it’s happened. It seems he hasn’t given you any until that night because if he has done it recently, it would be clear and evident. Green symbolizes the holy water and the thin lines were left as it burned its way down-.”

Jaemin listened but found himself distracted at the way your lips moved and the wonder if they have always been that pink.

“-And the question still remains. How do you not feel or smell it and how come nobody else noticed it?”

A playful smile-more like a smirk-appeared on his face to cover up the fact that he hasn’t been listening to your rant. “Oh? My Queen, you seem to be taking on an entire village’s role. You’re a princess, a planner, now a doctor? What else is there I don’t know about you?”

Mockingly smiling, you shook your head. “Ha ha, so funny. You see, there’s a difference between you and I. I’m educated and clearly, you’re not.”

Obviously taking offense to that comment, he widened his eyes at you. “Excuse me, Kalonian? Are you saying I’m stupid and illiterate?”

“Well, did you hear those words coming out of my mouth? But it’s good to know you think about yourself like that. However, now I wonder. If you think you’re stupid and illiterate, why do you act like such a pompous ass all the time?”

A hearty laugh filled the air and you watch in surprise at the way this boy in front of you scrunched his eyes in laughter and the corners of his mouth raised his cheeks.

This was clearly not the same one you married a while ago.

To your surprise, you were actually able to tolerate him for just one afternoon.

And all it took was a simple poisoned cup.

Sitting on the car with Jun sitting at the passenger seat, your fingernails dug into the leather of the seat and you tried to stop yourself from ripping open the door and tearing his head off yourself.

With the things he has done to your husband and the fact that he even tried to kill him with you in the house and probably knowing your goals, you felt disrespected and when that happened, you were going to take action.

“Your Highness, I have received word the Lee’s Butler that Prince Donghyuck is waiting for you at this address.” Jun informed from the front and you bit a cruel grin, knowing exactly where it was without even having to look at it.

“Oh, yes. Tell him we will be right there.”

With the excuse of wanting to have tea with the Lees, you told Jaemin you were bringing Jun along with you in case you needed him. On the plane to Cerilian, you took note of Jun’s odd behavior, knowing that being an Underworlder made him so anxious to be so high up and so close to the Heavens.

Or it could be the guilty conscience.

The drive there felt like you were driving straight to Lucifer’s palace with how long it took but you finally arrived at a manor. The manor that was only used by Donghyuck for special reasons.

Jun opened the door and walked out first before opening your door and holding out a hand to help you out. Biting back your disgust, you daintily hovered a hand over his gloved one and took off your sunglasses, strutting to the main door where 2 tall men stood guard.

“Hello, gentlemen. Pleasant day?” You asked sweetly. They looked at you and returned to their fixed gaze above your head.

“Princess Y/N of Kalon has requested to see Prince Donghyuck.” Jun said and the men stood the side and pushed the door open.

You sent them a bright grin and offered a loud ‘thanks!’ before entering the manor.

Inside, Donghyuck sat on the couch, messing around with what seems to be cocaine. You saw his concentrated expression melt away as he caught sight of you and opened his arms for a welcoming hug.

“Hello, princess! It has been a while hasn’t it?!” You nodded and when his red eyes rested on someone behind you, his grin grew wider. Very sadistically. “Oh! And you brought Jun with you!”

With an angry scoff, you looked at him pointedly. “Can we start, Donghyuck? I promised my husband I’ll be home tomorrow. And I’d love to cram a bit of sight-seeing of your country.”

Donghyuck bowed, “Yes, your highness.” And he stood up, a wicked glint in his eyes. “BOYS!”

The 2 men from outside entered and Jun looked out of sorts as they took him by his arms and legs before dragging him away.

“Y-Your Highness! Princess Y/N! Help! What-!” His yells silenced and you thought one of them knocked him out.

“Shall we, princess?” Donghyuck offered his arm which you took with a polite smile.

“We Shall.”

Jun woke up a few minutes later and he looked around wildly at the plain room and tugged at the restraints. He saw the 2 men with you and Donghyuck to the side. Trying not to look obvious, he closed his eyes and tried to use his magic to remove the ropes but to no avail, instead making it tighter which caused him to whine quietly.

“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you.” Donghyuck warned. “The more magic is done, the more it’s going to restrict. It can only be done with a Sterilian steel knife and it’s right here.” He patted his pants pockets.

“Your Highness! Princess Y/N! What’s the matter of this?!” He yelled and you only gave him a cold smile.

“What the hell is the matter with you? Poisoning your king and doing it under my fucking HOUSE!” You roared.

He grew quiet until he spoke quietly with venom lacing his voice. “My brothers and my father died in the war between Orenda and Kalon. Then their bodies were taken, blood drained to be dipped into your swords as it is the only thing that could cut vampire skin. You tricked our families and Meraki thinking you were doing good but you were doing it all wrong!” Jun looked up with angry and sad eyes. “All of us! We grew without a male and the only ones left in my family were taken and thrown into a fucking war they weren’t meant to be part of! You and your bullshit lies! All of you! Fraudulent!”

You’d be lying if you said his answer didn’t hurt because it did. Every night you thought about how terrible this alliance was and the lives lost for no reason. A single marriage in exchange for millions of lives.

Donghyuck remained silent so you spoke. “All of that happened under the leadership of our parents and our ancestors. We had no control of that. Jaemin and I? We’re going to change that, Jun. We want to break away from this and change our world to its full potential without the loss of any of our and your kind. We want to make this place a better place!”

“That Merakian princess? King Suleimon’s daughter? We know the truth. She was killed by you lot because of his obsession with her. Rather than taking ownership of it, you let the Egyptians take the blame and let Meraki loathe humans for thousands of years. All of you are liars from the very start. I may be foolish but I’m not a fool. You cannot deceive me with your lies. That’s why I did it. I did it because I had the closest connection to the future ruler of the Vampire World. I may not be remembered but I will avenge my country!”

“You crazy, ignorant son of a bitch,” Donghyuck sneered.

You walked over and placed a delicate finger under his chin to bring him to eye level with you. “Normally, I would understand people like you. Revolutionists, right? But you have tried to kill my husband, Jun. I can’t allow others to do that unless it was me. And bad things happen to the people who interfere with my plans.” You said and slapped his face.

“You will die for this, Kalonian! You and the rest of your kind!” He screamed and it became louder as the guards poured holy water on him.

Donghyuck had a cruel smile on his face as he watched the scene in front of him and he offered a match of fire, which you accepted.

Holding it tightly and ignoring the slight hiss at the proximity of the flame, you stood in front of Jun for the last time. “And Jun, before you go. Only my husband can call me that.”

And you dropped the match.

a/n: and that’s on self quarantine

taglist:

@d0dges @bobohu-s-ane-yeobo @heyyyun @thwia

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lapis-lazuli-block · 5 years

Text

Flesh and Bone

A little fic for @ask-elementalhermitcraft based off of one of Joe’s poems, Like Your Enemy (from his s6 ep96, Puttering Around).

Length: 2784 words

I made war on the sea and became the waves

The night was damp and warm, but that was to be expected; they were, after all, in the middle of a swamp. The stagnant water covering the ground reflected the clear, crisp white light of the moon above. In the water, she watched Iskall and Stress a full bit away making a routine sweep of G Team’s territory.

She and Ren weren’t supposed to encounter them tonight, and certainly not in the middle of a swamp, where both Iskall and Stress’ powers would nearly be at full height. But it was night, and the moon was shining on the swamp water. False and Ren were at the height of their power, too.

Still, a skirmish was less than preferable. They would be too evenly matched. She needed to find Ren, wherever the reckless man had gone, before the opposing duo found him first. Without moving an inch, she shifted her attention to her partner for the night. She didn’t have to look far before Ren’s image stared back at her from the water. His expression was as tense as False felt; he could see the enemy.

False was off, bow in hand, fast as she was able while keeping the sound of her feet splashing in the water to a minimum. She kept an eye on the scene through the mirrored surface of the swamp but she could only watch as Ren backed further into the underbrush and Iskall and Stress continued to draw closer. She passed a massive ravine; that, perhaps, would prove useful.

She slowed to a crouching crawl and then hid behind a tree once the duo came into her line of sight. Their backs were still to her, but it was colder now and the slimy swamp water covering her feet clung to her diamond boots. Across a wide—too wide—span of water and hidden within dense forest, False saw the barely-visible shine of Ren’s eyes glowing silver in the power of the full moon. Behind him, a massive ravine marred the terrain.

The night was still. The air was thick. The firm grasp of her element was familiar as she summoned a shield to encase her body.

Iskall and Stress attacked with not so much as a passing glance exchanged between them.

The speeding line of ice that Stress sent her way just barely grazed False’s feet as she leapt backward onto dry land. Instinctive reactions and years of training had her sending an arrow in Stress’ direction before she landed. Her boots were frosted over, but there was no time to think about how cold her toes were while Stress was sprinting towards her.

Get Ren. Stay out of the water.

Stress threw her hands out and False danced away from an array of ice spikes. Stress and Iskall were most powerful when they and their opponents were surrounded by water. False lunged forward and slashed at Stress with her sword. It didn’t make contact. Of course this had to happen in a swamp.

“Stay still, love,” Stress snarled at her as False dodged yet another attack. The biting cold might have affected her if it weren’t for her skin-like shield she kept up. In her peripheral vision, she could see Ren and Iskall battling it out, slightly closer to the bank where Ren had been hiding. She shot an arrow, quick as lightning, and felt more sick than happy when it met its target.

Stress cried out. The arrow stuck out from her thigh as False leapt back. Water splashed outward as Stress fell. False’s instincts, honed after years of battle, told her to go for the kill as Stress looked up at her in shock. Her opponent was on the ground, at her mercy.

False hesitated a second too long, because a blade met her stomach before she could make another move.

Iskall’s sword shattered her shimmering shield and the impact knocked her to the ground as well. Her sword was in hand and raised for a second strike despite her fall, but she only caught a glimpse of Iskall’s face twisted in rage before Ren’s body slammed into the one-eyed man and the pair fell flailing to the ground.

Ren’s growl matched the look in Iskall’s sole eye in intensity, but his next move was to lunge toward Stress rather than continue to engage Iskall. Determined to protect his friend, Iskall leapt to his feet to intervene, but False swung her blade and stepped between him and the pair.

Iskall was a force to be reckoned with under normal conditions but this, with the water freezing and slime sticking the soles of her feet to the ground, plus his own increased speed in the swamp, this was simply unfair. False found herself fighting to keep her sword in hand and a magic shield in front of her only for it to break with one swing of his blade. Iskall was angry and, she had to admit, that was almost as terrifying as Doc angry.

>Rendog fell from a high place

False felt her blood turn icy, and she knew it had nothing to do with the ice elemental in her vicinity. Stress and Ren must have reached the ravine. Of course he’d been the one to fall. False was on her own now, against Iskall and Stress.

Iskall knew, too. False stumbled, the intensity of the moment finally getting to her. The Swede before her lunged and she fell once again, flat on her back, drenched in murky water.

They weren’t even supposed to engage tonight.

Iskall stalked forward. Behind her, False felt the chilly presence of Stress approaching, but she never took her eyes off of the imminent threat before her.

A plan formed in her mind; risky, deadly, but a plan. There was little choice but to attempt it. She’d exhausted all other options.

Iskall’s sword was coming down and False felt the tell-tale cold of ice rushing toward her back. She formed a small shield behind his legs and moved, quick as a whip, rolling forward and kicking outward to trip him and leap forward onto dry land in one smooth motion.

Iskall fell face-first into a foot-deep puddle of water that froze over immediately.

“Iskall!” Stress rushed forward, icicle already in hand to chip away at the ice covering him, but False wasn’t about to stick around to figure out if it would work.

She darted off, back towards her home base where Ren had surely respawned, leaving the pair behind her. She was out of the swamp with Team STAR’s base in view when the death message announced the result.

>Iskall85 drowned

I made war on the peaks and became the stone

There was a razed path of destruction through the world, a gruesome scar cut from the battleground of the two bases straight to the sea. The sun was rising over the water in the distance, though the fires all around burned bright enough that it might as well be day already.

Cleo stayed back, and perhaps that was cowardly, but her powers worked best from a distance. Jevin and Tango played tank, engaging in brutal, direct combat with Wels and Impulse, respectively. Cleo could barely see Mumbo through his cloud of redstone on the opposite side of the battlefield, identifiable as the source of dusty red waves that spawned deadly machines and weapons that activated on their own. The landscape was a mess of fire and iron, torn up by redstone machinery and levitated terrain.

Cleo’s undead army of zombies and pigmen, amassed from days of concentration next to a portal and an enormous glass containment pen, didn’t seem to be doing much harm to any of their three enemies but they did make decent targets for Mumbo’s machines. She could feel the dull aches all over her body as her forces were cut down by arrows and pistons and lava and for the first time in the fight that was lasting hours, the impacts were too difficult for her weary body to ignore.

The sun finally rose from the water. Cleo felt the uncomfortably warm sensation of her hundreds of mobs catching flame; with control of so many, she couldn’t stop them from burning. Lucky for her, Mumbo was tiring too, his cloud of red dispersing and thinning to the point where she could see his form kneeling on the ground. His machines were weaker and more sparse.

Cleo turned her attention to the continued fight between Wels and Jevin. The slime was no longer exhausting energy on freezing Wels’ arrows and the edges of his physical form were beginning to warp. Wels had dropped the swords that once circled him and his armor was no longer changing in response to Jevin’s attacks; it was simply spiked. They were beginning to tire. Anyone would be; this had to be the longest, most exhausting battle she’d been part of. They were too evenly matched. The sun had set and now risen again and yet not an inch of ground had been given or taken. The only result of their fighting was a stain on the surface of the world.

And yet, in the center of it all, burning the terrible path, two beacons of scorching heat clashed with what felt like a bottomless well of energy. It seemed as if Tango and Impulse were incapable of exhaustion. Cleo couldn’t even imagine it.

It hurt to watch. Literally—the brilliant light they were emitting burned her retinas—but in more ways than just physical; they were best friends. The sight of the two of them at each other’s throats was a horrible testament to how far out of hand the war had gotten. Hands burning, bodies glowing, the pair pulled apart and then rushed back in, an endless cycle every time they came face-to-face now. Flames licked Impulse’s mouth every time he opened it and the whip of fire in his hand lashed like a snake with a mind of its own. Tango’s hands were ablaze and the ground around his feet glowed red-hot with every step he took. The identical looks in their eyes were nothing less than ferocious.

As the sun rose behind her, Cleo allowed herself to take a step back and witness the battle. Her body shook with the toil of it; her armies ablaze, Mumbo all but motionless on the ground, Wels and Jevin locked in exhausted combat, Tango and Impulse forging a hideous inferno.

Joe, in all his infinite kindness and wisdom, had told her this was a mistake. Maybe they all had known that the whole time. And yet, even he had chosen a side. Whatever had caused this, even he wasn’t immune. She turned around; she needed a moment to collect herself.

There was a figure silhouetted by the sun in the distance, standing atop the highest mountain surrounding the scorched, upturned valley. Cold terror shot through Cleo like an icy knife stabbing her spine. Friend, or foe? Come to help the G Team or STAR? She didn’t know which option she feared more. It didn’t matter, she supposed; either way, it meant the end of this grueling battle.

The figure didn’t move. The mountain rumbled.

It was then that Cleo realized who it was. Neither friend nor foe, it was the reclusive Tinfoil Chef, emerging from beneath the earth for the first time in months.

She didn’t even have time to process that thought before the world went black. Her body crumpled and her lungs filled with filth as the surrounding mountains collapsed and the dirt beneath her feet gave way. A tidal wave of earth filled the valley, crushing the six hermits battling there.

>ZombieCleo suffocated >Mumbo suffocated >Tango suffocated >Welsknight suffocated >iJevin suffocated >ImpulseSV suffocated

I made war on the heavens and became the sky

In the month since the war had begun, every hermit had come to recognize when Doc and Grian were fighting. It wasn’t particularly hard to tell; the moment the two were in proximity and aware of each others’ presence, it was as if the sky itself was at war, as if the heavens were being ripped apart. A storm would hover low overhead, bolts of lightning streaking in jagged, violent paths from the clouds to the ground, accompanied by the crack of thunder and the wind howling angry ramblings as it sent rain sideways and upwards.

Doc stood on the roof of the ghast tower, trident in hand, eyes locked on the sky, searching for Grian’s faint form swooping through the clouds.

“Show yourself!” he roared, and the sky flashed white as a bolt of lightning arced through the clouds to hit the earth in the center of no-man’s land.

A winged man was silhouetted in the brief light. Doc lifted his trident, feeling its weight in his hand. It buzzed with energy that danced between the prongs and sent static running along his body. He aimed at the figure, knowing Grian was long gone, and shot into the air.

The feathers on Grian’s wings stood on end as a bold of pure electricity passed by where he’d been mere seconds before. His hand gripped tightly around his sword, his knuckles pale, his heart giddy as the man below shouted to the heavens:

“Face me, coward!”

Grian’s snicker was carried enough by the wind that Doc could hear it from where he stood down below. He grit his teeth, trying not to channel too much energy into his trident. Fights with Grian were more often than not long and painful, and pacing was key, especially because the man he was facing had far more stamina than him. At times, it seemed like Grian lived in the air. There had once been a time when Doc found his endless flight charming, but now he only felt a desire to ground the man with a vicious bolt of electricity.

Even from high above its source, Grian could feel the air tingling with electrical energy. It smelled of ozone and rain, and there was a sort of giddy thrill about him that he recognized as his element; the air was normally benevolent, if slightly reckless. Something about this war, though—perhaps the power that went along with fighting everyone—made his element more excited than normal.

He could feel it start circling before he commanded it to, but he paid no mind, and simply urged the forming tornado along. The sky lit up with another bolt of Doc’s lighting and Grian allowed himself to be illuminated by the blast. Below, Doc was alight with crackling energy on the roof of STAR’s ghast tower. The wind howled as Grian began his descent.

It was foolish to assume that any singular battle would end this war. It almost felt, at this point, that the entire thing would never end. At times like these, though, when it was one-on-one, and the conflict felt all the more personal and all the more deadly, it was easier to fall into the misguided hope that taking out the leader would stop the war.

Doc’s trident lit up with electricity, crackling and sparking, the scent of ozone pungent in the air. Wind swirled around Grian, a miniature hurricane surrounding him as he gained speed. Doc took aim as Grian swooped down, gaining momentum.

Doc’s eyes widened. At the last second, he sidestepped, and Grian sped straight down past him, grazing his wing on the corner of the ghast tower. The sting caught him by surprise, but the noise he made was nothing compared to the scream Doc let out. He caught the slightest glimpse of the man’s body alight with crackling energy before he was gone. It was far too late for Grian to try and stop himself; he simply closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable crash into the ground.

The energy surging through Doc was agonizing and brilliant. His entire being was electrified. Grian’s personal tornado had yanked his trident from his hand just as he was about to shoot the menace, and his own lightning had backfired on him. He could feel himself burning from the inside out, though he could hardly say the sensation was unfamiliar. He caught one final look at Grian’s falling form, and was filled with a sense of cruel satisfaction, knowing the other man would soon be dead, too.

>Grian experienced kinetic energy >Docm77 was struck by lightning

I made war on my neighbor and died, flesh and bone

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #elemental hermitcraft #elemental hermitcraft au #ehau #my writing #im not tagging all these people I'm so sorry to whichever mod gets this and has to do that #its like everyone in the war except Joe and x and including TFC

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gllded · 5 years

Text

*exhales into the mic* what’s up miles nation --- my name is mac, short for macaroni and cheese. i live on the west coast, i’m of legal drinking age in the US and i go by she / they pronouns ! this rp honestly looks so cute that i had to bring madeline, a character i indie’d for a hot second but really loved writing. take a look under the cut to know more about her and drop me a dm either here or on discord ( 𝖎𝖈𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖒𝖞 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙, 𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖈#3596 ) if you wanna plot !!

THE GOOGLE SEARCH

⋆ ° ⟡ ( LEE SUNG KYUNG, twenty-eight, cis female, she/her ) i saw HYEJEONG “MADELINE” BAEK at the winter palace. did you know that the HEIRESS is originally from SOUTH KOREA? i heard they can be quite BRATTY, but also LOYAL. there’s rumours they’re at the winter palace because HER PARENTS WANT HER TO SETTLE DOWN, but you never know. FRONT SEAT AT FASHION WEEK, RED LIPSTICK STAINS ON WHISKEY GLASSES, and A PRIVATE JET READY TO FLY TO THE NEAREST LUXURY RESORT always remind me of them.

THE WIKIPEDIA PAGE

you’ve seen the dramas. the young and disillusioned chaebol heirs, with their noses turned up at the common folk they toy with. their mothers, a cold and manipulating force with a check ready to ward off any suitors unfit for their children. their fathers, distant and perpetually too busy with work to spend an ounce of their time with their families. they live in their own world, untouchable and impenetrable to the public as they live their lives planned out to the second, all before they’re even given the chance to think for themselves. and maybe it was true, for some people, but it wasn’t true for madeline.

growing up in one of the most important families in south korea, madeline never wanted for anything she couldn’t have. toys, sweets, even spontaneous trips to amusement parks were always given to her without hesitation by the people who were raising her. of course, she still saw her parents at dinnertime: but her parents weren’t as cold and distant like you would expect. sure, they were busy – they were running one of the biggest companies in the country – but they still managed to take an hour out of their busy schedule to spend some time with their children. it was a loving household as much as it could be, with madeline and her older brother being raised by the au pairs and house keepers around their countryside villa, spending most of their time in their own little bubble. madeline just thought this was how all families were, how all childhoods were. she didn’t even realize how much her name was worth, or how important her family was until she entered school.

she enrolled in private school at around eight years old, having been tutored privately before that. it was a change from her old ways, suddenly immersed in an environment where everyone had everything to say. there were children of similar high social, economic, and political status, who weren’t afraid to sharing who they were related to and what their parents did.

madeline felt uneasy by it all, not used to talking about how much her family made, or how much more privileged she was than other students. but she still fell into a group, out of fear of loneliness. they were kids like her, children of extremely wealthy business owners, who became some of her closest friends.

madeline wasn’t so much the sweet girl she once was. being around those kids who knew the power of their wealth turned her sour. she was, for lack of a better word, a brat, then on; pushing the limits of what she could do to those around her and what those around her could do for her. she was the ice queen, the mean girl, the rich bitch. she was superficial, demeaning, demanding. she put up the front of who these people wanted her to be, and excelled at it.

but she was also one her circle of friends could come to. she was their confidante, their shoulder to cry on, someone they could trust. she held her friends’ hands as their parents went through divorces, defended them as scandals poured out into the public, and offered a place to stay when things at home turned nuclear. madeline ended up caring for the people who were compensating for the lack of compassion and intimacy in their earlier years because she understood what lives they lived.

she considered herself lucky that her parents still cared. and that they allowed her to do what she pleased so long as she was safe and didn’t jeopardize the family name. she couldn’t say the same for her friends. it dawned on her early on that their lives were not theirs to live, that every detail, from what they would study in school to how many children they would have, was decided for them. they were heirs, after all. and the fact that madeline didn’t have that expectation on her eventually drove a wedge between her and the others. so she was left in the dust, with the people in her social circles moving on with their lives, leaving madeline to find something – anything to occupy her time.

as the youngest child and only daughter to the ceo of one of south korea’s largest and most established conglomerates, there wasn’t a place for her in the company like there was for her older brother. so after university, she decided she had the freedom to do whatever and whomever she wanted, leaving a trail of broken glass and broken hearts behind her in the prime of her twenties. she became a social media influencer -- getting paid to go to events, to frequent resorts and hotels, to be merely photographed with a designer handbag -- and traveled the world meeting new people and paving her own way apart from the corporate image her family had cultivated.

madeline’s life was a mile high until about two months ago when her father was hospitalized from a minor heart attack. her brother had finally gotten a hold of her after hours of her being awol, partying up in dubai with her latest girlfriend. he had been furious when she answered, nearly forgetting to tell her why he had called in the first place, and summoned her back to seoul. her father had turned out to be okay, in the end, but it was still scary to think she could have missed him had it been more severe and had she actually been unreachable.

her brother and mother ganged up on her while her father made a decision. it was time for madeline to settle down; time for her to be serious about her life and to start being worthy of her family name. no matter how much she would kick and scream about it, she knew it was futile. she cut down on plain disappearing for months at a time and started to receive possible betrothals, though it was plenty difficult to find one in a country as socially conservative as south korea on account of madeline being a “big fat lesbian”.

her parents had just begun to widen their radius, researching bachelorettes from around the world, when the news of crown princess mignonette’s search for a spouse. madeline thought it was a joke that her parents wanted her to throw her hat into the ring until she was seated onto a plane bound for genovia. madeline thinks it’s a long shot to court the crown princess, but at least she’s getting a vacation out of it.

THE MATCH.COM PROFILE

- madeline is a partial heiress to one of south korea’s largest and most established conglomerates, baek100. founded a short time after the korean war, baek100 has a stake in nearly every aspect of people’s lives: apartment complexes, motor engines for public buses, kitchen appliances, cosmetics, department stores, flash-frozen foods, and several branches of entertainment. accumulating a worth of over 10 trillion won ( approx. 9 billion usd ) -- not including the family’s own separate private investments -- the company has contributed greatly to the mass boom in south korea’s gdp in the last three generations.

- while madeline had most of her schooling done in south korea, she spent her university years in the united states, graduating in public relations from usc in southern california. it is in university when she started going by madeline because she was tired of her professors butchering her given name. ( “is there a hi-jung here ? a hi-jung bake ?” )

- she gay. if that wasn’t clear in her being in genovia to court the princess, i’m saying it now. she came out to her parents when they tried to arrange a marriage to the son of a family friend when she was sixteen. they have been surprisingly supportive of her being a lesbian and have made her the poster child of their lgbt campaigns during pride month. ( evidently her mother has also been sending her articles about the emerging science behind two women being able to have a baby without a sperm donor )

- because of her status as a social media influencer, she’s been able to make her own money separate from what she gets from her family. although her endorsement deals are not a match from what her trust fund provides for her, it still fills her with pride when her personal bank account adds on another digit to it’s overall balance. she can easily live a humble life off it, but the influencer gig is really just for fun and only started because someone offered to pay her to show up to their birthday party.

THE FACEBOOK FRIENDS

- close friends. madeline is the type to offer up her life for the people she loves and her tight knit group of friends know this. it could be that they grew up knowing each other or just ended up falling into the same circles, but her life is better because of you and vice versa.

- enemies / frenemies. as loyal and compassionate as she can be to those she’s close to, she can be equally bratty and materialistic to just about anyone. madeline’s personality is not for everyone and she can get a little catty if she feels she needs to be on the defensive.

- exes. first love or passing fling, madeline has always found herself someone to keep herself from feeling lonely. now that she’s trying to buckle down and find a wife, that may irk you considering she was never one to be in a serious committed relationship when you were together.

- social circle. not quite ride or dies, but you see each other at events often enough to know one another well. she respects you and your family enough to walk up to you first, to invite you to places, and to argue about picking up the dinner tab with you.

- brother (wc). while madeline is a bit of the black sheep, she is still considerably close with her family and this is especially true with her brother. on the outside madeline and her older brother are opposites but they are more complimentary than people might think. she respects her brother and knows he wants the best for her.

- mother’s assistant (wc). one of her mother’s many assistants tasked with accompanying madeline to genovia to keep tabs on her. y/m basically reports things back to her mom if she’s misbehaving but she’s constantly trying to go off and do things she’s not supposed to.

#x. madeline baek.#genoviaintro

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sokkas-honour · 5 years

Text

Damsel in distress

Bucky barnes x reader (fem)

Pairing: Prewar!Bucky x reader

Wordcount: 2k by far the longest thing i’ve ever written

Warnings: Death but not described, mourning and unedited. angsty

ITALICS ARE FOR FLASHBACK.

masterlist

taglist (open): @sheismental @starkravingparker @demigodnamedathena@cailster @dorkprincess

She looked into her mirror and saw her hollow, lifeless eyes staring back at her tired face. Ever since the incident shed barely been able to close her eyes, barely been able to eat and hadn’t had any type of social interaction. Her days were spent laying on her bed, staring at her ceiling and thinking of every moment she had spent with him, every smile, every laugh, every hug, every fight and every reconciliation, every good and bad moment.

She was cleaning up a small stain on the counter left by a customer during the day, the last spot she had to clean before she would be able to close up the small diner for the day when the bell rang. A small and annoyed sigh left her lips as she was desperately hoping to close up and get home, slide into bed and sleep. Looking up, attempting to plaster the best smile on her face as to not alert the customer as she could definitely use a little extra money, she was met with the most beautiful pair of stormy blue eyes.

“Hey is it possible to still order something?” He finally asked when he crossed the short distance from the door to the bar stools.

“Yeah, of course.” She smiled politely while grabbing the paper menu and handing it to him with a small nod before going to turn the sign on the door from ‘open’ to ‘closed’.

“May I have a simple hot toasted ham and cheese sandwich? If it isn’t too difficult of course.” His gaze stayed on the woman as she made her way behind the counter and nodded once more before going to the kitchen to make the customer’s simple request.

The man looked at his hands as they sat on top of each other on the counter and patiently waited for his food. Before he knew it, the lovely waitress brought him his toast. She placed the warm bread in front him and quickly grabbed an empty glass that she filled with water to give to the handsome customer.

“So, if I may, what brings you here this late at night?” She questioned, her curiosity spiking once she really got a good look at his face and realized just how handsome this man was.

“Well,” He started, eyes darting quickly to her name tag before confidently continuing, “Y/N, I was hungry and I saw this place open with a pretty dame so it became my obvious choice.”

“Well, for your information you’re very lucky that you came when you did.” She wittily replied, a smirk dawning her features earning a raised eyebrow from the man.

“And why is that doll?”

“I was about to close up but then I saw a very desperate, good looking man entering the establishment and I thought to myself: This damsel in distress needs me.” She teased while resuming her work on polishing the counter.

“Well then, this damsel in distress definitely does need you tomorrow night at eight for a fun night out?” He spoke up after finishing his toasted sandwich.

“Is this supposed to be a date?”

“Well doll, it looks like it is.” He smirked, grabbing the money he owed her as well as a small tip before getting ready to go. “I’ll pick you up outside the restaurant, sounds good?”

She laughed before considering his offer and decided that she needed to have some fun. “Sure why not. Oh and, damsel in distress?”

He turned around as his hand was on the handle of the door, about to exit while a chuckle erupted from his mouth at the nickname. “Yes my savior?”

“Can I at least know your name?” She persisted, a small and warm smile on her face.

“James, but people call me Bucky.”

“Well then Bucky, I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that the handsome man exited the store and y/n quickly finished cleaning up.

She sluggishly moved to her bed and laid down on the firm mattress, eyes looking at the grey colored wall. Her mind kept wandering to thoughts of him, his beautiful brown locks who weren’t too long but just long enough so that she could run her hands through his hair, his eyes who resembled the ocean that they’d visit from time to time and every signle perfect part of his body. He had helped her step out of his shell and she had been able to meet many incredible people because of him.

“Come on doll, it’ll be fun!” Bucky insisted, pleading eyes staring into hers as he tried to persuade her to accompany him to a night out at some town party with a couple of his friends. They had been dating for a couple of months and he desperately wanted her to meet his friends.

“But Buck, it’s just, I don’t know.” She sighed, eyes shyly looking at her feet as to not meet his gaze.

“It’ll be a fun time, plus you’ll get to meet a couple of my friends and Steve will be there and you need to meet him.” His lips turned into a pout as his hand went to grab your chin to guide it upwards so that you could meet his gaze once more.

“Urgh fine, but you owe me. Now let me get ready if you don’t want me to look like a mess.” You teased slightly, turning your back to him you made your way into your room to grab your simple yet cute black polka dotted dress.

“You don’t even look like one doll. Believe me, you never will.” He shouted in your direction before going to take a seat on the sofa to patiently wait for you to get ready.

He ended up not having to wait long as in the span of the next twenty minutes she stepped out in a dress that she wore often yet he adored it so much he could care less. Her hair was styled in a popular do-up that looked amazing on her, it was smooth finger waves on top and the back was rolled up curves. She wore no makeup apart from a beautiful and bright red lipstick that made her lips pop up.

“So, what’dya think?” She asked with a small smile on her lips as she twirled for him so that he could get a full look of her.

“Perfection.” He stood up and placed his hands on her waist so that he could bring her closer in order to place a loving kiss on her lips. “Jesus, I’ve never seen anyone prettier than you.”

She giggle, a blush dusting her lips as he put his hand on the small of his back and they made their way towards the small party a couple of blocks down.

Upon arriving she heard swing music being played by a band on a small stage and a couple of people were dancing together in front of it. Colorful spring pennants were hanging in various places of the plaza as well as white lights strewn across the place.

“Hey Bucky!” A voice sounding familiar to the both of them spoke from behind. Bucky turned his head to see the man which the voice fit and a smile grew as he saw his best friend,

“Steve, hey man! You made it!” “Yeah, thought it would be fun.” The short man shoved his hands into his pant pockets as he stared up at his friend before his eyes trailed over to the girl who stood next to his friend. “I’m taking it you’re y/n?”

“Yeah, it’s a pleasure to meet you, James has told me all about you.” She enthusiastically replied as she wrapped one of her arms around her boyfriend’s waist. She stretched out her other hand so he could shake it.

“Same here.” He smiled politely at her before they made small talk with each other for the rest of the night.

She remembered vividly the day he told her he’d been drafted overseas with the army as a sergeant. Attempting to keep her feelings at rest, she stood up to attempt to try to grab something to eat from the kitchen and she found out that her stock was very minimal as food was rationed, plus she hadn’t been out of the house for a while. She went to grab a plate from one of the shelves and her eyes fell upon a small letter that he had sent to her while he was overseas and she felt a new wave of tears come. She put the plate back and grabbed the letter, hand slightly tracing his familiar handwriting as she remembered a series of love poems he had written to her for their first anniversary. While he was fighting she’d read his poems to sleep, letting the words that he wrote comfort her and keep the scary thoughts at bay.

“Hey y/n?” He asked one night as they laid on the bed together.

“Yeah Buck?” She looked up to him from her position on his chest.

“Since I could leave anytime overseas, I wanted to ask you something.” He slowly sat up, taking his nervous hands into hers.

“And what’s that my damsel in distress?” “I wanted to know if you’d marry me? Like as soon as the war is over that we make it official?” He nervously questioned, eyes meeting hers.

“Yes Bucky! A million times yes!” She replied happily, a huge grin on her face as she bent down to press her lips onto his and he eagerly kissed back. “Can you imagine me? Misses Barnes.” She fantasized while they got ready to sleep once more, their arms wrapped around each other as her head was laying on his chest and listening to his heartbeat.

“Yeah and I’d have the prettiest dame in all of New York as my wife, my savior.” He smirked, kissing her forehead and getting ready to doze off.

She stared at her fingerless hand, a small sigh escaping her lips at the thought of them being married, of them getting their happily ever after, the one they both wanted, what they’d have late night talks about, what they’d fantasize about.

She was dancing by herself in their small apartment as Doris Day’s voice filled the room. She hummed for herself the melody to the song, her hips swaying from side to side as she cleaned up the mess she had made in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Curious, she quickly went to turn down the volume of the record and went to answer the door.

“Hello, how may I help you?” She asked while opening the door, head tilting in confusion as she stared at the two police officers that stood at her door step.

"I have been asked to inform you that your husband, James Buchanan Barnes has been reported dead in enemy territory. On the behalf of the Secretary of Defense, I extend to you and your family my deepest sympathy in your great loss.” The taller out of the two spoke as she felt her whole world crashing down but she attempted to keep a polite smile as she nodded and closed the door before sliding down to the floor.

“Bucky’s dead.” She whispered to herself as reality suddenly hit her and the words sunk in, he was dead, the man she loved and adored was dead, the man that she was planning to spend the rest of her life with was dead, gone. He was never going to come on, she was never going to be able to hold him again, never going to feel his lips against hers and she would never hear his melodic and soothing voice first thing in the morning. Her loud sobs filled the room, the sound drowning out the music that was still playing.

She attempted to recollect herself to grab the picture that she kept of him on the coffee table, once it was in her hand her shaking fingers brushed over the black and white picture. She smiled through her sobs, attempting to remember every best memory with him, every moment she loved.

“I love you Buck, my damsel in distress, forever and always.” She whispered to the picture, imagining that he was listening to her and watching over her, her voice dry from all the crying she’d done in last couple of minutes.

“See you someday James.”

#bucky barnes x reader #pre war bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #pre war bucky x reader

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tvdversefanfiction · 4 years

Text

Dracula: The Originals

(Finale) Chapter 3 - Twisted Ties

Warnings: I do not own the original content to “The Originals”, “The Vampire Diaries” or “Legacies” or any of the characters from the television shows.

15 plus, displays of Violence, Gore, Torture, M/M, F/M, F/F.

New Orleans, 1722

It had been twenty four hours since Dracula had seen or heard anything from his brunette bride Zsofia Benedek and he had begun to worry about the first woman he had married fearing her plan to awaken Kol had been discovered before she had a chance to get him on side but in this rare moment Dracula wasn’t thinking about his schemes he was thinking about the first woman he ever loved.

Zsofia was the first siphoner witch Dracula had met other than himself and she was born on the same day as him both being delivered just miles apart from each other and whereas Dracula was born into wealth and loyalty Zsofia was born into a poor but proud coven who were far from happy to discover she was an abomination to witch kind.

Dracula never left his castle often but he went for a long stroll one night the same night the townsfolk who had watched Zsofia grow into a young woman planned to burn the witch with some ridiculous notion the flames would purify her magic in the afterlife.

Dracula was no stranger to burning witches but he seen something in Zsofia in that moment as she refused to scream or fight for her life something he recognized from deep within himself and decided to save the troubled witch draining magic from the very witches who planned to burn her to stop the flames and kill the treacherous coven members before disappearing out of sight with the brunette beauty.

He often told Zsofia that the two of them were born to be together two of a kind and it was his destiny to save her from the flames and her destiny to pull him out of the darkness but it quickly became clear to the newly betrothed that love in the common sense was not on the cards for them but a love far greater would take its place: friendship.

Dracula wasn’t the family kind having killed every last blood relative of his own but he considered his brides as his chosen family bounded together non conventionally by vows similar to marriage but out of all three of his brides Zsofia Benedek was who he believed to be his kindred spirit.

“We found her,” Wilhelmina revealed reluctantly as she vamp sped into the living room of the home in which Dracula and his brides have found themselves residing in. “It seems she was successful in awakening the youngest Mikaelson brother however…”

“No,” Dracula snapped at his redheaded bride. “Don’t tell me what I believe you’re going to tell me.”

“She served you until the very end my betrothed,” Wilhelmina admitted as tears formed in her eyes. “She was a faithful and loving bride until the very end.”

“No!” Dracula screamed as he fell to his knees struck with grief as he began sobbing to himself. “She can’t be dead you must be wrong we have come to far fought too hard for her to be dead.”

“I warned you no good would come on declaring war with the Mikaelson’s.” She cried. “Poor Zsofia would still be alive if you hadn’t chosen to play these silly games with Niklaus you knew the risks when you and her forced us to this city her blood is as much on your hands as it is on theirs.”

“Don’t you think I know that Wilhelmina?” Dracula admitted as tears continued to flow down his cheeks. “I’ve underestimated my enemies, but I won’t make that mistake again.”

“What does that mean?” Wilhelmina asked her husband as she continued to cry for her fallen friend.

“As Zsofia Benedek herself would say blood for blood.” Dracula replied as he dried his tears and a cold emotionless look came across his face as he rose back to his feet. “Whoever killed my bride will pay for their actions even if it is Niklaus Mikaelson himself.”

Evike Arvay walked into the living room of Dracula’s New Orleans residence to find a freshly changed Wilhelmina Helsing sat on a chair drinking from a chalet looking into thin air with a sense of sadness surrounding her.

“I forgot how delightful Elijah Mikaelson was although to be fair last time I seen him our concentration was on his brother.” Evike said to the redheaded bride. “What is wrong with you Wilhelmina?”

“Zsofia’s dead I found her lifeless body in the very same cellar I led her towards her body just left there like she was nothing.” Wilhelmina admitted while taking another drink from her chalet. “Dracula is out burying her body now.”

“Excellent,” Evike replied with a sinister smile. “I never did like her anyways I guess this means I’m the favorite bride now.”

“Do you seriously have no remorse for our fallen sister?” Wilhelmina asked as she stood up to face the blonde-haired bride.

“She demanded too much of my husband’s attention consider myself a petty bride.” Evike admitted. “I guess this means our plans to tear the Mikaelson family apart is about to get a lot bloodier my poor betrothed must be seething.”

“Zsofia Benedek was an extraordinary woman and now she’s gone and all you can think about is a man incapable of ever loving you.” Wilhelmina snapped. “Of course, we will get our revenge Dracula always gets his revenge.”

“I’m sorry for your loss Wilhelmina I’m sorry because it pains you so, but I will not shed a tear over a woman I never liked.” Evike said sincerely. “I know what Zsofia meant to you and Dracula and we will avenge her but maybe after that you should think about your next move.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Wilhelmina asked.

“You were never truly Dracula’s bride you were more hers and now she’s gone...” Evike began to say before Dracula vamp sped into the living room.

“Wilhelmina is as much my bride as you are Evike.” Dracula said to his blonde-haired bride. “Those vows we made mean more than simple marriage it means we are family tied together for all of eternity and even after.”

“Rebekah’s ready to betray her brother I didn’t get to mention it earlier.” Wilhelmina said to her husband with a genuine smile, touched by his words.

“I knew you would do me well Wilhelmina Helsing your cunning is what drew me to you all those years ago.” Dracula replied to his redheaded bride.

“I practically already have Elijah hanging on to my every word,” Evike boasted. “I think he’s got quite the fancy for me.”

“Of course, he does,” Count Dracula said with a smile as he pulled his two brides in for a hug “Nobody can resist me or my brides.”

Klaus Mikaelson was never pleased when anyone had the audacity to wager a war against him however he found himself impressed by Dracula’s boldness, intrigued by his darkness and lustful for the time they spent together but that doesn’t mean he was foolish enough to trust him or would hesitate when the time came to kill the heretic.

He returned home shocked to find Kol on his doorstep freed from the coffin he had put him in and covered in blood that was most definitely wasn’t his brother’s.

“Please tell me which sibling is responsible for your release so I can put them in a coffin next to you once your returned to your own.” Klaus said as he continued to walk towards his younger brother.

“A heretic is responsible not a sibling a heretic brunette bride to be precise.” Kol revealed. “The blood staining my clothing is hers she wanted me to align myself with a certain Count of course I went along with it long enough to seduce the beautiful woman but upon satisfaction I ripped out her heart quite literally.”

“I’m surprised by your sudden sense of loyalty.” Klaus surprised. “Tell me what the cause of the change of events is?”

“Oh, trust me brother when I say I will have my revenge but for now I want to take care of Dracula and his remaining brides.” Kol admitted to his older brother. “It’s quite clear their plan is to divide and conquer us which would work if Rebekah and Elijah weren’t in the equation but for some reason those siblings don’t entirely loathe you despite how many times you’ve committed acts against them.”

“So, your telling me your choosing my side because of your love for our siblings?” Klaus asked him.

“Come on Niklaus you are far smarter than that,” Kol scoffed. “I choose you because together we have outrun our father for seven centuries our father who is a far greater foe than some self-proclaimed prince of darkness and a tendency to collect wives although I do admire his taste in brides.”

“In that case Kol I may not have to dagger you again so soon after all,” Klaus replied with a smile as he placed his arm around his brother and hugged him. “Let’s go indoors to discuss our scheming, debauchery and the multiple murders.”

Dracula didn’t know it then but he was well and truly in over his head as he decided to go to war with the Mikaelson’s believing his mastermind would match Klaus’ foolishly underestimating in the process just how cruel and cunning each Mikaelson sibling could be alone never mind together as he soon learned his plots to divide and conquer would be turned against him.

“So, your biggest master plan to take out Dracula is quite literally to use his own plan against him to his own downfall?” Rebekah asked Klaus as she, him, Elijah and Kol stood in the living room of their family home.

“It’s rather simple and yet effective at the same time which works perfectly fine for me.” Elijah admitted. “Besides the sooner we deal with this problem the soon we can move on to the next.”

“I hope you are not referring to me now brother.” Kol replied to Elijah mockingly.

“Well not you precisely but now that you mention it.” Elijah said with a smug smile aimed at his youngest brother.

“I’m simply saying we do exactly what Kol has already begun for us,” Klaus told his siblings. “Dracula can divide us all he likes we’ll just use the division as a quick way of disposing of him and whatever brides still remain.”

“So, Dracula is meeting a grizzly end too then Niklaus?” Rebekah quizzed her brother. “After all the centuries over obsessing about him and you’re just going to end him without any hesitation.”

“One less enemy to on the list means one less enemy for me to obsess over with the intense sense of paranoia that you are all so bloody convinced drives my every decision.” Klaus moaned at his sister while making it clear to his siblings that Dracula’s days were numbered.

Dracula’s blonde-haired bride was the first to fall victim to the Mikaelson’s family team work as she arranged to meet with Elijah out in the bayou where she wouldn’t be seen not realizing a remote location made it almost too easy for the not so noble Mikaelson who had very sinister intentions planned for Evike Arvay.

“You never told me about involving the former witch regent in our meetings how do you know she can be trusted?” Evike asked as she vamp sped into the woods within the bayou shocked to see Elijah stood there next to Gabrielle LaRue.

“Current regent witch under the circumstances I’ve decided not to surrender my title to your husband especially since learning the truth.” Gabrielle replied to her as Evike realized in that moment Kol must’ve spilled all.

Evike try to vamp speed away but didn’t get far before Gabrielle raised her hand magically snapping the heretic’s neck causing the blonde bride to fall to the ground unconscious as Elijah smiles at Gabrielle.

“So, does this mean we get a more fitting location within New Orleans to call home like my brother Niklaus requests?” Elijah asked her.

“Well considering you’ve just handed the witches of New Orleans a rechargeable supply of magic I’m sure our worries about your family will be slightly more appeased.” Gabrielle reluctantly agreed. “Besides I’d rather deal with monsters for my people than let a monster kill every last one of us so in this case you and your siblings really are the best of the worst.”

“I’ve got to say I’m intrigued to what you’re going to do with her.” Elijah admitted.

“Let’s just say her death will serve a purpose to my kind filling us all with a well of magic that will make us all powerful foes for anyone who dares cross us again.” Gabrielle revealed to the Mikaelson sibling. “Of course, we wouldn’t say no to the other bride I’ve heard one was already disposed of or I’d ask for all three.”

The redheaded bride Wilhelmina Helsing was the next on the Mikaelson hit-list although she was more prepared for potential backlash than Evike as she walked into the now completely empty Rousseau's bar only for Rebekah to vamp speed her way in after her standing in front of her redheaded enemy.

“So, I had time to think over your proposition of taking over this city and I’ve got to say I’m afraid I’m going to have to reject your proposal.” Rebekah said to her wasting no time to get straight to the point.

“You see that doesn’t surprise me considering Zsofia has already fallen victim to one of your siblings I gathered you would be on to our scheming.” Wilhelmina replied. “For what it’s worth Rebekah I do reckon you would’ve been a befitting Queen however your family crossed a line when you took her from me.”

Rebekah vamp sped her way over to Wilhelmina but before she had chance of touching Dracula’s bride Wilhelmina had raised her hand and magically snapped Rebekah’s neck causing for the original female vampires to fall to the bar floor unconscious.

“I was always the brains of Dracula’s schemes and now it’s time for me to fly solo from now on.” Wilhelmina revealed as she knelled before Rebekah’s unconscious body. “But before I leave, I need something of a guarantee if I ever meet you or your siblings again.”

Wilhelmina pulls a blade from out of her dress as she began chanting in Croatian clearly casting a sinister spell on Rebekah Mikaelson.

Dracula vamp sped into the hallway of the Mikaelson family home eager to have it out with Klaus Mikaelson who was more than ready to get head to head with his two-time lover following recent reveals made by both.

“I knew you were a crazed man but to think you could play Mikaelson against Mikaelson like we were pawns on your chess board proves you really are truly insane.” Klaus snapped as he vamp sped into the hallway.

“I wanted to test you test us I wanted to see if you were the right choice for me and you took her from me!” Dracula shouted furiously at him. “I thought you would finally be the one to match my darkness but I’m beginning to realize your far more of a monster than I could ever be.”

“I hope you know as we speak my sister Rebekah is killing Evike and Wilhelmina too so I’m afraid you’re going to be left without any bride.” Klaus replied smugly before walking towards Dracula. “I’ve got to admit I did actually quite like you, but I knew from the moment we met your death would happen by my hands.”

“You seriously think I give a dam about Evike or Wilhelmina if anything you did me a favour.” Dracula laughed causing Klaus to be refused by his reaction. “Zsofia wanted the brides I amused her she even wanted Evike amused by her endless devotion to me. To be honest with you Niklaus after leaving New Orleans I’d have killed them myself.”

“I had a feeling you lured those women into being loyal to you but you would’ve never returned the favour in fact I must admit I’m rather offended by the notion you thought I’d be as foolish as them.” Klaus send before launching his hand into Dracula’s chest grabbing at his bloody heart. “You should’ve never tried to cross me.”

“It was different with you.” Dracula claimed in between coughing off blood and his groans of agonizing pain before Klaus removed his heart causing Dracula to quickly desiccate and fall to the ground lifeless as Klaus dropped his ripped-out heart on top of his corpse.

“You’re right it was because I’d never be foolish enough to fall for foolish affection.” Klaus said as he looked at Dracula’s corpse with both a smug and somewhat broken look.

One Hour Earlier

Dracula stood alone in the living room of the home he had found himself living in during his stay in New Orleans drinking from a vile while looking at the flames of the fire burning in his fireplace looking lost in thought.

“Zsofia I must admit I’ve been foolish I thought with my heart instead of my head just like you taught me, and it cost you your life just like it will not doubt cost me mine.” Dracula talked to himself. “All I wanted was for to find that all-consuming love and I believe he was my answer but instead he will be my all-consuming death.”

“Well I wouldn’t count yourself out just yet from what I’ve heard of you you’re never one to quit.” Kol said as he vamp sped into the living room.

“I wold say remind me to travel with at least one human from now on to stop unwanted guests but I assume your already here to kill me.” Dracula replied as he turned around to face Kol and finished drinking from his chalet.

“My brother Niklaus wants to do the displeasure of killing you and I can’t blame you for your truly amateur attempts at diving and conquering us.” Kol revealed to him before pulling a potion vile from out of his pocket. “However, I see some potential in you not so much your brides but you.”

“What is that your holding?” Dracula asked him.

“Your way out you drink this and if you are killed you will be brought back the potion only works once so make sure when you die the first time to get the hell out of sight as quickly as possible.” Kol explained to him.

“Why on earth would you want to spare my life?” Dracula quizzed the youngest Mikaelson brother.

“I saw your operations in Transylvania clearly you have some intelligence even if it’s not for the master-plans and I reckon having you owe me a favour will come in handy for the future.” Kol admitted to the prince of darkness. “Now what do you say do you want to go into partnership with a Mikaelson?”

Klaus was fooled into thinking that was the last he’d see of Dracula, but little did he know this was no ending to their tales as they were tales were only just starting to truly begin.

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diguerra-moved · 5 years

Note

❣

SEND IN A ❣ FOR A RANDOM KISS. // accepting.

8. a dying kiss.

One may almost miss the blood drenching his clothing, only a shade darker than the crimson of the fabric, more visible where it painted red even the outlines of gold. Mail had given him little protection in face of Blightcaller’s attack (desperate, wielding a weapon not his own, all that he had been able to reach). The sharp, elongated blade had been able to tear apart the links of mail beneath his clothing with ease, Nathanos’ strength and the shape of the weapon combined easily damaging the metal links. The entirety of his apparel was not what he would have chosen to wear, most of all not to battle; but even that choice had long ceased being simply a matter of his own preferences, and when battle fell upon them, he had been bearing the garb that seemed best suited to a king than it would ever be to a ranger.

Struggle against it as he always would, Lor’themar knew his days as a Farstrider to be part of a now seemingly distant past; the Third War might as well have happened centuries ago, with the eventful years that followed taking more of a toll on him than the Regent Lord had allowed others to see. Past he would never be able to return to, no matter how his heart longed so for freedom in place of endless bureaucracy. And yet, even if such a life was past, it was so intrinsically part of him he could never set it aside, not truly, not completely. He had always been a warrior, always would be, wasted free time in keeping his body and skills sharp in spite of never putting them to use, drowning in matters of state and paperwork and politics he wasn’t fonder of now than he had been when Kael’thas appointed him Regent Lord.

It hadn’t been an easy fight. He had clashed against several of Sylvanas’ loyalists, forcefully carving a path towards her champion as several of her soldiers fell to his blade. Not only had Blightcaller been within reach, Lor’themar knew well they ought to remove him to get to the Dark Lady herself; and so he had taken it upon himself to fulfill that task, both due to position and unwillingness to confront Sylvanas herself. What she had become had cost him much, even more than it should, but that he had allowed in his reluctance to face her, in letting go of what she once was — but how could he not resist the truth of the matter, when she had been a friend and commander, a hero to her people and the sole one to offer them a hand when they needed most?

Though Nathanos himself had once been a comrade, it had always been simpler to push past that when it came to the Banshee Queen’s Champion; undeath had turned him into a blatantly cruel creature, one who did little to conceal how he reveled in the torments of others. Death did not diminish his skill, however, only heightened the viciousness with which he employed it. If Nathanos had been as skilled a shooter as an elf, in close quarters Lor’themar had advantage; soon enough the undead had been deprived of his weapons, bow parted in two and axes beyond his reach. It would have ended then and there, if not for Lor’themar’s minute distraction, blade turned to cleanly cut through the sides of a Forsaken aiming at Halduron; enough of an opportunity for Nathanos to strike, fast and accurate as a well aimed arrow, making use of the first weapon he found within his reach.

Before Lor’themar’s blade had finish the semi-circular motion meant to strike at Blightcaller, he felt the piercing white-hot pain at his back, the spear thrust until it emerged on the other side. Not content, Nathanos had seen fit to twist it, pulling the weapon back for added damage; and succeeded, eliciting a pained howl from the Regent Lord. Remaining alert as he felt blood pour out of him had been a struggle, adrenaline coursing through his veins playing as much a part in it as sheer force of his will; yet it had been enough for him to meet Blightcaller’s attacks with blows of his own, clashing near-evenly amidst the onslaught of Forsaken forces and the Horde’s own, clamor of weapons echoing endlessly beyond their skirmish. As the minutes past, the Regent Lord became keenly aware of his forces leaving him — and so, with renewed intent, gathered his forces to overpower his enemy, either bound to win or fall, determined to end it regardless.

In a deceiving motion, Lor’themar feigned intention to parry Blightcaller’s blade, but the impact the other expected never came to be; instead, a swift movement aimed the blade towards the undead’s leg, successful in inflicting a wound while dodging the enemy attack — a well placed distraction for the attack that followed. He lifted his sword as fast as he could, aiming for the other’s head before Nathanos could regain his balance. Even as the blade cleaved off his neck, he pierced Lor’themar once again, sticking the spear on his thigh. The body of the Banshee Queen’s champion collapsed to the ground, lifeless as befit him; and soon after, the Regent Lord fell to his knees, having removed the weapon from his leg, both in exhaustion and pain and weakness borne of blood loss.

The night sky was clear, tainted only by columns of unnatural smoke from burning buildings in the distance. Here, in the least, the land had not been blighted beyond recovery, if still a gruesome sight to behold (but battle was never pretty, no matter how big or how small; it was a field of dead and dying and killers, drenched in blood and littered with bodies from both sides, the recent dead and the dead who had fought under Sylvanas both covering the ground). Lor’themar was unsure of when his body hit the ground, only realizing his back rested against the soft, crimson painted grass when her hands lifted his head, a semblance of consciousness returning to his mind at the soothing warmth of the Light as she mended his wounds (Is it the Holy power that soothes him or is it her presence? In that moment, he cannot make the distinction). “Lia…?” Muffled sounds of battle still reached his ears, though Lor’themar could neither comprehend them nor care, if not for the alarming concern that immediately fills him ————— a brutal battlefield was no place for her to be in, he registered, even amidst the haze of his mind. Airlia should not be there; she should be safe, untouched by war, not there, not anywhere within the reach of enemy weapons that would not have mercy even on her, the gentlest of all souls.

This, too, clears his mind somewhat. Lor’themar frowns, fingers digging in the earth beneath him as he tried to push himself to sit, ignoring her protests for him to lay still; he manages by resting his weight upon his arms, still with great effort. She is covered in his blood, light colored clothing stained crimson — her hands too had been tainted with blood, he notices when his gaze falls to them, covered in the warm glow that she wielded to heal him. His good eye stares at her blue, momentarily lost in it. Though he battles it now, his mind still dances around the edges of unconsciousness, heavy, only kept from drifting through great effort; as great effort as that he needs to make to speak, voice both hoarse and unsteady. “You sh— should… not… be here.”

“Please, Lor’themar… you lost so much blood, you have to save your strength…” Her request accompanies her incessant work, yet even as she pleads he knows none of it is enough to recover all strength he had already lost. His arms gave way, back hitting the ground once again, blunt impact shooting a renewed wave of pain to the wound in his left side. The ranger hissed, eyes closed in a grimace; but he willed them open again, fighting the urge to keep them close and succumb to darkness, clinging to the desire not to lose sight of her. He turned his face towards Airlia, silent as he took note of the crease between her eyebrows (was it focus or concern?), the thin line her lips were pressed in, the glint in her eyes that hinted at tears. Her evident distress cut at his heart, and he would like little better than to be able to comfort her; yet there was no comforting to be done. She was trying to save him, but it might not be enough.

It likely won’t be enough, he thought, still gazing upon her face. If he was to die there, it was a small mercy his last sight should be her, no matter how anguished ——– still, he would trade it in a heartbeat for her being elsewhere instead, safe and sound and well. Nevertheless, here she was, clinging to his life with all of her might, obstinate in not allowing him to die. A wry smile found its way to his lips; he had always loved how dedicated she was to anything she put her mind to.

Foolish, perhaps, that he would waste the last of his strength in it; worth it, Lor’themar decided, pushing himself up again until he sat, only one hand aiding in the support of his body — the other cupped her face, gentle in spite of his roughness. “Stop, Lor—” He cut off her protest by pulling her into a kiss, pouring all he still had in that singular chance to have her in his arms again, to taste her heavenly mouth if one last time. It wasn’t lasting but it was enough; it was more than enough.

Worth it.

“I love you… I — always… always… have.” Do not forget that, he wanted to ask, do not doubt even for the fraction of a second that there was nothing for you in my heart but love, regardless of the distance stretched between us. His hand fell from her face, supporting him as he lowered himself to the ground with as much ease as his state allowed, not quite succeeding after overexerting himself to reach her. Lor’themar’s gaze lingers on her for as long as he is able to sustain it.

Dying in her arms did not seem too terrible a way to die.

#sunrunnerrs #henlo have some sad #* muse: lor'themar theron / A RANGER AT HEART.#* in character: lor'themar theron / GUIDED BY THE ETERNAL SUN.#* dynamics: lor'themar theron & airlia morningfall / KNOW THAT I WOULD GLADLY BE THE ICARUS TO YOUR CERTAINTY. [ SUNRUNNERRS ]#long post cw #death cw

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luna-redamancy · 6 years

Text

Bofur x Reader (Never Letting Go)

I hope you enjoy it!!!! @daileyintakeofmonty

Word Count: 1488

Theme: I tried to make it angsty but it’s probably not that angsty...

Slipping unseen through the battlefield you search through your medical bag, pulling out several herbs and premade elixirs to give to wounded and near death warriors. The Battle of The Five Armies was roaring, orcs, men, elves, dwarves, trolls, several of all race falling to their ruin at the end of a blade. Jumping when a blade was swung in your direction you quickly scurried to the less intense side of the war. Being half hobbit and half dwarf had its perks. You were small enough to slip away unseen, but didn’t have giant feet for giant tracks to be followed by.

It was like you were walking in the underworld. Hundreds of bodies littering the ground. “Bofur?” You shouted, remembering him and some other dwarves get pushed into battle this way. “Lass?” Bofur responded confusedly, stepping out from hiding behind a large rock. “Oh thank goodness, Bofur, Bifur’s asking for you in the medical tent.” You explained, pointing to Erebor that was now being used to house the injured being pulled off the battlefield.

“Bifur’s hurt?! How? When?!” He was riddled with questions, spewing one after the other, until you shushed him. “There are orcs nearby…” You muttered, grabbing ahold of his hand and pulling him behind the rocks, making your way back to Erebor. Usually, if the situation was different, you wouldn’t be so bold. You would be a furious blushing mess. You see, you always liked the charismatic dwarf. Over the course of the journey though, like turned into love. And you fell hard. (Like Smaug in the lake of Esgaroth)

So far, safe. You thought while looking around the battlefield for any sign of danger, Bofur just as alert behind you. Being a mystical healer had its perks, you could sense danger around you, and you could heal most injuries. But for some reason, you’ve had a gnawing feeling in your gut. “Warg…” You finally realized, catching the faint sound of a warg chuff. Gulping you stopped and gave Bofur your bag.

“Take this to Bifur.” You pointed at the green liquid in a vial within your bag. “Lass, won’t you do it yourself, you’re the healer?” Bofur questioned confusedly as you caught sight of the warg creeping closer within the rocks. “Bofur, listen to me..” You muttered, staring in the eyes of the warg. “No matter what happens, you don’t come back.” You explained. “(Y/N), I’m not leaving you.” A sad chuckle left your throat.

“You know it’s a healers duty to maintain the health and wellbeing of the company…” You recited your oath that you had given to Thorin the day you joined the company, (e/c) eyes turning into stained glass in their appearance as tears formed in your eyes. Accepting what was going to happen, but still fearing the pain. “Bofur... Can you promise me one thing?” You questioned, directing your teary gaze into his warm amber brown eyes.

Seeing you so emotional, Bofur nodded, “Anything.” He reassured you, gripping his sword so tight his knuckles turned to a bright white as you shakily smiled. “Remember how much I love you.” You stated before pushing him down the hill. “Run!” You screamed out to him as the warg let out a chilling howl. I need to hold it back, just to give him enough time to escape.. Fear pulsed through your veins as you shakily held up your staff in defense. But the need to protect your One held you in place, feet rooted to the ground as the warg advanced.

Bofur recovered from his shock of being pushed such a distance, whipping his head to see you standing solidly still as the warg crept closer to your shaking form. “No…” He gasped out, watching the warg pounce on your form, biting into your arm. A shrill cry left your throat as you tried to hold back cries of pain for Bofur’s sake, not wanting him to hear his friend being torn to shreds. Friend.. You thought with a bittersweet smile.

He raced up the hill as quick as he could with his heavy armor, his own eyes blurred with tears at the sight of the woman he loved being assailed by a beast, to keep him safe.

Lying limp on the ground you were like a ragdoll, being thrown around by the savage beast. Your screams filling the air as it sunk its sharp long fangs into your legs this time, feeling like you were a doll with its stitches being pulled apart and stuffing being tugged out.

Your blood stained the rocky ground as you were tossed around in the warg’s jaws, ‘It’s toying with me’ you acknowledged, slamming your staff against its eyes causing it to release a growl of pain. Bloodthirsty eyes staring into tearful (e/c) ones.

Bofur let out a battle cry as it advanced to the warg, swinging his sword around causing the warg to jump off you and onto a rock, now circling the two of you.

“B-Bofur…” You wheezed out, clutching your bleeding arm. “I-I told you to run…” You finished, voice raspy from your cries. “I’m not leaving my One behind to get torn apart by a warg!” Bofur yelled out, his usual soft features turned into harsh determination, determined to get you both out of the wild safely into Erebor.

Your heart fluttered and you aren’t sure if it’s from fear or butterflies that Bofur just called you his One, deciding not to think about it you sat up slowly, staying behind Bofur as he slowly pushed both of you down the hill, sword aimed at the beast.

The other dwarves that Bofur was with, came back from scouting for enemies and charged at the warg, shouting in Khuzdul to get you to safety. Nodding, Bofur picked you up carefully avoiding your injuries and began running back to Erebor.

“You’re crazy.” You mumbled, grabbing at your poorly done medical wrapping around your arm that was coming loose. You determined that it was the adrenaline and fear coursing through your veins that made your mind conjure Bofur telling you that he thought of you as his One, to lessen the mental blow to your psyche.

Bofur looked at you like you grew two heads.

“I’m crazy for wanting you to not die?” He said, one of your favorite qualities showing. Stating or blurting things out without even thinking about what’s coming out of his mouth first. Laughing softly you shook your head as you leaned back against the pillow. “For you coming back, you could’ve died.” You stated, wondering how the cheerful, kind-of-a-scaredy-cat-dwarf became brave enough to face off a vicious warg. Suddenly it seemed like the blunt dwarf was holding back words.

“Bofur?” You questioned worriedly as he refused to meet your eye. “What’s wrong?” He cleared his throat, seemingly finished thinking about what he wished to talk about. “You know, that moment where the warg pounced on you… I realized something.” He started, fiddling something in his hand. You silently nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“I realized I couldn’t lose you, for you are something too special to be lost so quickly.” He finished with a sigh as he held up a simple, yet beautiful courting bead. “Menu Tessu, (Y/N). (You mean everything to me, (Y/N)”

Your eyes went wide as Bofur grabbed non-injured hand, holding it to his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to it, giving you a soft smile. “May I, Bofur, court you, Lady healer (Y/N)?” He said causing you to laugh at his wording, nodding as his grin grew wider, moving to sit next to you on the bed.

“May I?” He questioned, nodding to your hair as you nodded in acknowledgement, turning your head to give him better access to the hair on the side of your head. Minutes passed when in reality it felt like hours, the connection being forged between lovers as your courting braid was placed in your hair. Clasped tightly by his handcrafted bead, Bofur pulled away happily. “Now you’re all mine.” He joked, causing you to crack a smile while he pulled you into a hug with tear filled eyes.

What if I let fear get the best of me?

What if she wasn’t here in my arms now?

What if she died?

A tear rolled down his cheek as he buried his face in your hair, the reality of the events that just happened finally hitting him.

“Shhh…” You cooed, holding him tightly as he tried to hide his anguish from you. “I’m right here,” you soothed. As a healer, it is your job to maintain the health and wellbeing of the company. Now it is your duty to maintain the health and wellbeing of Bofur, emotionally and physically, you thought as Bofur’s body shook with the thought of losing you when he had only just admitted to loving you.

Fin

#bofur x reader #bofur the dwarf #Bofur #the company of thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #imagines #OneShots #xreader #angst #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic

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words-of-the-worlds-blog · 5 years

Text

Broken Brotherhood

Zayden looked at Skander, then at the knights of their enemy, “Stay close, brother.”

He turned to the knights of Grey Haven, and with a deep breath spoke, “On the count of three… One-- Two-- Three!!”

The knights let out a battle cry as they charged at their enemy, sword in hand, willing to give their life for their kingdom.

The once peaceful field quickly became a whirlwind of disorder and violence, a blur of colour and vicious motion. Noises quickly arose. There was no longer peace, and it was hard to concentrate on anything over the obscure cries of men, and screams of injured beasts. A thunder could be heard across the field of steel striking steel, and death could almost be felt. Nothing was as before, and even the sky seemed to disapprove of the blood shed, breaking loose in a torrential downpour.

Skander tried hard to stay close to his brother as he was instructed, but it wasn’t long before they drifted apart, lost in the sea of knights.

One of East Hollow’s knights brought his sword down at Skander’s head, but he easily blocked it, planting his sword firmly into the knight's stomach, before drawing it out again.

The battle was closing in on him, and he did his best to ward off East Hollow’s men, but it seemed like every available knight was trying to kill him. When he had finished off one, ten more would come out of nowhere.

“Need help?”

Skander glanced over at his brother, who was now at his side, fighting off the knights who threatened to end their life.

“Thanks.” Skander dropped onto the ground, avoiding a blow, “But I think I can manage.”

Zayden jabbed his sword into another knight, and fended off a sword that was about to hit Skander.

“You gotta be more careful, you're gonna get yourself hurt.” Zayden clashed his blade against another, and swiftly killed his enemy.

They were both engaged in a fight, their enemies becoming increasingly stronger as the weaker opponents were being slaughtered and left for the birds.

Zayden slid his sword across his opponent's throat, and watched as he fell to the ground choking on his own blood. He turned back to Skander who had been battling his own adversary, and saw he was lying on the ground with a knight standing above him with a sword to his chest. Any moment the knight would release a bit of pressure, killing Skander for good, Zayden had to act now.

Zayden ran forward and hit Skander’s opposer in the back of the head with his pommel, before spinning it back around, and planting his blade into the man’s spine.

The man fell away and Zayden quickly knelt by Skander’s side.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his gaze filled with concern.

Skander tried to stand, but fell back down, landing on his knees with a cry.

“I'm fine.” Skander lied, his eyes filling with torment as his hand went to his leg, and when he looked at it again, it was covered with blood.

“I told you to stay safe.” Zayden scowled, looking around.

Friend and foe alike were falling left and right, each side thinking they were fighting for a better purpose. The battle was becoming brutal, and gory, coating the grass in scarlet. This war had easily become one of the bloodiest either East Hollow, or Grey Haven had ever seen.

Zayden fended off a blow, as he pulled Skander to his feet, “Come one, we’ve got to get you out of here.”

Skander winced, as he took the first step, his brother blocking every blow that came their way.

An arrow whizzed past Zayden’s ear, cutting the side of it. He ignored the pain and pushed on.

At the edge of the battle, Skander collapsed to the ground, not being able to walk any longer.

“Come on Skander.” Zayden urged, but Skander’s eyes were hardly staying open, and the rain was blurring his vision. The pain was close to one of the most painful things he had ever felt, and even the thought of moving was sickening.

“Here, I’ll carry you.” Zayden suggested, leaning down next to his brother, “Come on, work with me.”

Skander pushed himself up as far as he could, before looking Zayden in the eyes, “You’ll be defenseless. Just save yourself and leave me to die, your life isn’t worth mine.”

Zayden shook his head, “That’s where you are wrong.” He shoved his arms under Skander’s body, and with all his strength, picked him up.

There was a tree just outside the battlefield, but fog had swept in clouding their vision. Any enemy that was around them couldn’t be seen, but they were there.

Zayden suddenly dropped Skander as a searing pain shot through his back. He turned around and faced a knight who had a smirk spread across his face. He had his sword drawn, and pointed it at Zayden, who quickly unsheathed his own.

He winced as he took a step towards his attacker. He was weak, but refused to show it.

“Zayden..” Skander groaned, trying to get himself to his feet, and in the moment that his brother looked back, the man brought his sword down on Zayden. He looked back just in time to roll out of the way. The man’s blows were powerful, and each one threw Zayden off balance. Zayden raised his weapon and brought it down on the knights, but as it neared his face, his opponent clashed his sword against Zayden’s, throwing it from his hands, and forcing him to tumble backwards. Zayden crawled forward towards his sword, but before he could get close, the knight kicked him away from it.

“Zayden!” Skander screamed, dragging himself towards his brother, who was gasping for breath, a hand on his side.

Taking a deep breath, Zayden slowly and painfully brought himself to his knees, and

faced his adversary once more.

Skander clawed himself forward, “Zayden, get up.” he cried, turning the knight’s attention away from his brother.

Skander raised his head, his heart pounding in fear, as the knight’s shadow swept over him.

The knight raised his sword once again, aiming to kill the young prince.

“NO!!”

Skander watched as Zayden jumped to his feet and flung himself at the knights back, dragging him to the ground.

They landed hard, but the knight got to his feet first, and jabbed his blade down into Zayden’s chest.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion as Skander made it to his brother, tears stinging his eyes.

“Zayden!” Skander choked out, pushing himself up so he knelt by his brother's side.

Zayden coughed up blood as Skander stared down at him and covered his hands over the bloody wound, trying his hardest to stop the bleeding.

“Zayden?” Skander asked, and Zayden opened his eyes and looked up at him.

“I never wanted to die alone.” Zayden coughed, and forced a smile, “Thank you…” His eyes were filled with fear of the unknown that awaited him, and he could feel his life being stripped of him faster than he had thought. He coughed once more, blood bubbling through his parched lips.

Skander shook his head and gripped Zayden’s hand firmly. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to let you die.” he said, his voice cracking.

“Skander--”

“Zayden.” Skander interrupted. “You can’t die. You can’t leave me. You're going to survive this.”

Zayden began to shake, and as he did, he looked into his brother’s eyes, “I just wanted-- to say goodbye to someone.” Zayden’s eyes fluttered for a moment before closing for the last time.

“No.” Skander said, swallowing hard. He shook his brother’s shoulders, but his eyes stayed shut. “No… no!” he yelled, tears streaming down his face.

He removed his hands which were now stained red, from Zayden’s shoulders, and put one hand under Zayden’s head to prop him up.

“Zayden?” he said quietly, although he knew his brother wouldn’t answer, as he held the lifeless body of his brother, he was oblivious to the danger that he was in.

In an instant, his body jolted forward as an arrow pierced his back. He cried out in pain as he dropped his brother and fell to the muddy ground. His consciousness faded away, and as the rain pelted him, he could see shadows coming towards him. The next moment he was pulled away from the corpse of his brother, and everything went black.

“Zayden!!” Skander shouted, bolting awake, he looked around the empty room, searching for his brothers face, but he was nowhere to be found. He slid off his bed, his back aching, and stood to his feet. As he took the first step, he noticed Zayden’s sword propped up against the wall, and the overwhelming reality hit him. He fell to his knees, realising he would now be living in a world without his brother. It wasn’t the saying goodbye for the last time that hit him the hardest, but that he would have to cope with the fact that he would never see Zayden’s face again, or hear his voice, and he’d have to live with that empty void the rest of his life, forever trying to fill it, but never succeeding, and that was worse than death itself.

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voxwrite-blog · 7 years

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Maxanda, Cadam, and Elian stood together on the platform of a raised fountain, its flow turned off for the winter. Maxanda had carefully steered them to the higher ground when it became clear they were alone and soon to be overrun, but now, it appeared that their "advantageous" position only let more tigers hammer at their defenses from all angles.

Elian leapt and twisted to intercept a ball of light with his bucklers as it passed through the foggy shield around them. A ball of ash exploded around the metal disk as he neutralized the light, then landed heavily.

"This is the third time!" He roared. The third time they've been the last tigers standing, keeping each other safe while everyone else fell. They'd only fought together three times. It wasn't ideal.

Cadam stood almost-still with his arms hanging, swaying almost imperceptibly as he turned from Elian to Maxanda. The white fog that surrounded them poured from the gems on his shoulders and arms, energizing the other two and soaking the power out of incoming attacks so that they could deal with them. He didn't quite have the energy to talk right now.

Maxanda stood on the opposite side of their formation, covering the arc that Elian couldn't. Instead of his twirling, almost dance-like interception, she stood with her arms crossed and withered magic away with her sight. Until Elian shouted, she had been muttering to herself, explaining away projectiles and rays- A fireball, almost intelligently steering towards Cadam. The spell unraveled and its magnetic core splashed against the fog like dye in water. A roiling mass of light, twitching and bobbing unpredictably. It came undone and fizzled out the same way.

"Reyna might still be out there!" She shot back. Reyna, the one who started this war. A terrifying fighter. But there was no sign of her, and every enemy tiger was either out of the fight or on them right now.

Elian clapped a bolt of ice between his bucklers, then spun back to briefly face Max. Or at least, Max's back.

"We can't keep doing this! We have to fight," he said.

Maxanda froze up. She didn't know how to fight, none of them really knew how to fight. They'd practiced together, but only this, they only knew how to defend. She looked out over the tigers who surrounded them, plotting and calculating, trying to find some way through. But no, they'd be crushed. For the first time she moved, slowly turning back, petrified rather than frosty.

Cadam glanced up, eyes half-closed. He didn't want to push Max, but eventually, had to make the decision for the two- His time and energy were running out. The smaller tiger held his hands together as the fog stopped drifting from his blue gemstones. He stepped towards Maxanda, trying hard to keep from shaking as he reached up to hold her arm. She looked back down, her normally stoic grimace broken up by wide-eyed fear.

"We'll learn to fight." He said.

Cadam and Maxanda pulled close, and Elian squeezed his way between them. Their outer barrier of mist puffed and unraveled as their foes bashed away at it, buying them a few more seconds to prepare. Max straightened her back and refocused her glare, to push away attacks and keep their shields up just a bit longer- But without Cadam's energizing fog flowing around them, she instantly felt the heavy weight of exhaustion in her chest.

While their defenses still stood, Cadam looked back at the others. This wasn't going to be easy for them. As soon as they were vulnerable, the trio would be pulverized, Cadam was determined to make sure he took the first hit. He was already sapped, after all, from minutes of powering Max's and Elian's inefficient magic. Wouldn't be much use.

Elian grinned up at Max, tugging the brim of his feathered hat with a buckler-covered paw.

"You've always got my back," he said with an emphatic half-bow. Maxanda smiled awkwardly, nothing changing aside from her mouth, now that she was comfortably hidden again.

Finally, their shield snapped, filaments of fluff resembling Cadam's mane blasting outward. It didn't do as much as they had hoped, but one of the tigers who had tried to climb up onto the fountain was bowled back.

Cadam hopped down, staggering back to his feet and leaning back against the stone wall. He locked eyes with a bigger, meaner-looking tiger, eager to fight after the long standoff against their defenses. The other tiger raised his fist, conjuring stones and gravel around it, before swinging wildly towards Cadam. He only raised his arms in an almost-shrug, already half-asleep on his feet.

He didn't go down without resistance, though. A ball of rock slammed into his chest, but he held on long enough to puff fog into the bigger tiger's face. It tingled uncomfortably, but more than that, he could feel Cadam's pulse in the mist until it cleared. Few people could bear the sensation aside from Max and Elian.

Cadam didn't have much fight left in him after that. He slid backwards down the stone wall, until he lied with his head propped up against it, uncharacteristically peaceful for a defeated tiger.

Elian, though, was not as peaceful. He leapt up from the edge of the fountain, lifted by a wreathe of ash, before falling down to bring both his bucklers onto the stony tiger's head. Still trying to clear the fog, he was struck at full force, a cloud of hot ash erupting from the impact and staining their clothes and fur.

He stood up on his downed opponent as Maxanda climbed down beside him, the two on either side of their fallen friend. Elian was bouncing on his feet, holding one of the bucklers out like it was a sword, ready to swing at anyone else who approached. The other team was a little more cautious, their uncoordinated attacks were less predictable than the shield was.

It felt like an eternity, two groups of tigers sizing each other up while Elian hurled insults and threats, but it really only took a few seconds for someone to emerge.

Or... Someones? A single small tiger, dressed in an angular black coat, emerged from the enemy line. As soon as she stepped out she seemed to split, two identical tigers emerging from her position, then moving towards Max and Elian in complicated swerving paths that kept the three tigers constantly intersecting and walking through each other.

Elian stopped his constant bobbing and weaving to look up at Maxanda.

"What in the world is *this*?" He demanded. Max had no answer, she couldn't pierce any illusions or projections- It must've been something strong.

She kept her eyes locked, though, watching the tiger(s) move, one of them occasionally lifting the wide-brimmed hat to peek up and change course.

That must've been it, the real tiger steering the images. Her frozen face warmed up with excitement as she solved the riddle, and lifted an arm to point accusingly at the black-jacketed illusionist.

"That one! Get it!" She shouted. Elian jumped back into action, setting his hat again and clapping the crust of ash of his sleeves before charging with bucklers forward. He didn't see whatever Maxanda did, but, her calculating perception had always steered him true.

The three figures stopped their weaving approach when Elian charged, one barely lifting their hat to look out from under it. He caught a smirk between the flaps of the collar, too late to turn away- The two "illusions" he ignored deftly leaned down and caught his ankles as he tried to run past, ripping him off his feet and into the air, upside-down.

From his new vantage point he couldn't see much aside from Maxanda, covering her face with big taloned hands. Elian was furious that he'd been beat, but, couldn't show that... Max would take it out on herself, she'd only tried to provide the best advice she could.

So he went out in style, giving an exaggerated salute and putting his hands on his hips before a heavy boot hit him in the back of the head. The jacketed tigers dropped him in a heap, took a second to look down at him... And turned towards Maxanda, all at once. She had to fight hard to find her composure as they started moving again.

The three *things* didn't even dodge and weave this time, they were unafraid. Maxanda even thought she heard them *giggling* under their pointed hats. She let loose with every spell she knew, but they were barely practiced, little more than light-shows. The black figures reached out of their pockets to snap them up with gloved paws.

Finally, they stood only a few feet away. Maxanda was enormous compared to them, almost twice as tall, she could at least give them a more reliable thrashing- But the one in front looked up, emerging from the raised collar of their jacket, as glowing runes appeared to hide their face. Something made a horrible clashing sound and Max was dazzled by light, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

She blinked away the sparks in her vision, focusing her glare on the three, muttering again. Her dissecting gaze that picked apart spells so effectively before pressed heavily on her chest and stung her eyes, so much harder without the extra energy.

Light magic. She could figure this out. She could solve it, turn their spells back. She-

Was slammed by another pulse of harsh light, then hit in the head by something hard, collapsing on top of Cadam.

Going down together, it didn't feel so bad. They fought as hard as they could, kept each other safe for as long as they could. Better than being picked off one by one as they faltered, like the last two times they fought.

#floraverse #writing

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manussomniator · 7 years

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So I’m trying to definitely actually do this writing thing. Here’s a story about some Turf Tigers, creatures from floraverse who start “wars” except they mostly do it with the people they love and nobody ever dies. They’re cool and you should check them out.