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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year

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Flesh and Blood

Part 2: The Melee

Pairing: Prince Aemon the Dragonknight x Fem. Reader (Northerner /House Stark | Third Person POV)

Themes: Angst

Warnings: Mentions of emotional neglect | References to canon Targcestuous marriages (Daena and Baelor) | The supposed “relationship” between Aemon and Naerys | Weapons use | Mentions of blood and injuries

Word count: 3.1K

Summary: On the day of the melee, Aemon finds counsel pertaining to the matter of his marraige.

Rules and tag form can be found here.

Reference to the melee: here | Part 1 here | Painting: The Melee, Eglinton Tournament, Irvine, Ayrshire, by James Henry Nixon.

Aemon had not been able to sleep during the night. His body—bruised and throbbing all over—was as stiff as a board. The final joust had been between him and Ser Jasper of Tumbleton. The knight gave as good as he got, nearly unhorsing Aemon and claiming the final match. Aemon then nearly unhorsed him on the next turn, and the knight barely held on to his saddle. Their horses tore up the earth, red, black, and silver silks swirling around their saddles as riders raced toward each other. Lances splintered when they met in the middle, but the outcome was always the same. The men were evenly matched. It came down to a draw, and the queen decided to give both men the victory.

Ser Jasper wanted to let Aemon claim the win as he was a prince of the realm, but Aemon would not hear of it. He insisted they share the spoils. Ser Jasper was pleased. Aemon, on the other hand, felt empty and found no joy in the victory. He did not hear the loud cheers and applause that followed the queen's verdict. He did not see the flowers being thrown onto the field or the trinkets tossed down by well-wishers. All Aemon could see was an empty seat. All he could hear were his lady wife's accusations. She had accused him of neglecting her and keeping Naerys as a mistress. She believed he did not want her and that he found her unclean.

Naerys was never his mistress; that much was true. She was only his sister and nothing more than that. Spending time with her was a habit, one that was born after their mother left, and they had to depend on each other for guidance and comfort. There was nothing untoward, nothing that could disgrace either of them.

Perhaps, that was not what others saw, Aemon conceded. Maybe they saw something else—something that was never there.

He stared at the ceiling and sighed. A wave of regret rose from his thoughts. He spent too much time with Naerys. The chief of his day was spent with her, sparring, praying... and spending very little time with his wife. Aemon was ashamed to admit that he could not even remember the last time he broke fast with his wife. Y/n was more or less left to fend for herself while he carried on as if nothing had changed. When he came to her at night, it was so he could do his duty and leave once he was done. That was what he was told by his father. He was to do his duty and produce an heir, nothing more than that. Aemon was to produce an heir, in the event Baelor died childless and a council was called to decide the successor. Few would want a queen, his father had said, and fewer would want his older brother on the throne. The High Septon assured him that duty was all that was mattered in a marraige, and that his wife would be content with it.

It was not enough for his wife. She was not content with just duty. She had asked for more. She wanted more warmth and desire, and he denied her. He told her that it would only lead to lust and sin. That was what he was taught and what he believed in. He insisted she must never ask such a thing of him again. He remembered the way he looked at her. It was cold and full of judgment. He remembered the look in her eyes when he said it. She was devastated.

Haunted by remorse, he rose out of bed and called for his squire. Dawn was approaching, and Aemon needed to bathe and cleanse himself before going to the palace Sept. He needed to pray and ask the Crone for guidance to find a way to mend the shambles that were his marriage.

Sunlight poured through stained glass windows when Aemon walked out of his chambers, garbed in simple robes. Since he had acquired a wife and household, his father deemed it necessary for him to have larger accommodations. He gave him the keys to the tower facing the Godswood on one side and the sea on the other. All that was heard here were the sounds of birds, waves hammering against the cliffs, and leaves rustling in the wind. The rooms were tastefully decorated. All in all, it suited Aemon perfectly.

The winding stairway led him past one room after another until he came to y/n's bedchamber. Having never seen it in the light of day, Aemon opened the door and stepped inside.

There was a beautiful tapestry on one wall. The scene depicted a young girl riding an ice dragon, one that was said to live in the White Waste and the Shivering Sea. Aemon shivered. Y/n's bedroom was cold and strangely empty now that she had fled to the Cerwyn manse. A carriage came late the night before with servants and a trunk. Y/n would be staying with her kin for a while. A letter she had sent through a maid said little else. He eyed her bed and the pretty coverlets she had brought when she traveled to Kings Landing and felt a sharp pang of guilt. Y/n must have come into the marriage with so much hope, only to have them crushed. The feeling kept gnawing at him while he made his way to the Sept.

It was empty, but candles were alight. Baelor had been here already. Cleansing himself, no doubt, after spending the night with the queen. It was something Aemon himself did after his wedding. At night, he would do his duty. In the morning, he would come to the Sept to pray and cleanse himself.

Is it wrong? He thought to himself. Would it wound y/n if she found out?

Aemon shook his head and took several deep breaths to calm his mind. He picked up a candle. Someone opened the door, and a warm gust of wind blew in. Flames flickered and danced, throwing strange shadows over the walls.

"My pardons, my lord." A Maester, old but still full of life, stood by the doorway. "Do you wish to be left alone?"

Aemon studied him. He had not met this Maester before. "I do not mind, Maester..."

"Barth, if it please you." Maester Barth stepped into the cool marble interior of the Sept and shut the door behind him. "I came to meet the Grand Maester and was asked to wait."

"Did you come to pray, Maester Barth?" Aemon walked over to the marble sculpture of a wizened woman. Her eyes had been carved in such a way that they gave the appearance of someone who had seen a great many things in her long life and had much counsel to give.

"I confess I did not." Barth went over to a likeness of the Warrior to admire it. "I just came to while away my time until the Grand Maester was ready to receive me."

Aemon nodded and went about his task. He lit the candle and set it by the likeness of the Crone. He closed his eyes and tried to pray. He failed miserably. His mind was a roil; it was too troubled by the memories that came unbidden. The memory of his wife walking away after having endured more than she could, her stricken eyes when he caught up with her, her tears. Aemon sighed. He opened his eyes and turned to the Maester, recognizing the black ribbon tied to one link on the Maester's chain. Barth was a widower who had joined the order much later in life. Aemon went to him, wondering if he would help him.

"Maester Barth," he said, "can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." Barth fussed over his robes and lowered himself onto a bench. "How may I help you, Prince Aemon?"

Aemon began with, "I assume you know what happened yesterday?"

"Oh aye," Barth said, moving to the other end to make room for the prince. "I was there, watching like all the rest. And I heard the talk. Fret not, my lord. People will forget once a new scandal presents itself. It will happen soon enough in a city as big as this."

"The people will forget," Aemon agreed, and joined him. "But I fear my lady will not."

"Is she here?"

"No. My wife left to stay with her kin."

"I see." Barth stroked his gray beard and pondered. "If it would not offend, may I ask if there is any truth to the talk? Is there something untoward between you and Princess Naerys?"

Aemon had been expecting this question and was prepared. "There is none. Naerys and I..." he glanced at the floor. "For that, I have to start from the beginning."

Barth nodded. "Go on, my lord."

"I was three when my mother left for Lys," Aemon said, his eyes growing wet with tears. He had lost count of the times he had asked his father about his mother. And he had lost count of the times his father refused to answer. "Aegon was four. Naerys was a babe still in the cradle. Father changed after that. Before my mother left, he was always ready for a laugh, always willing to indulge us. Then he changed. Father grew cold and distant. We were left to our Maesters and Septas. We received little affection from our father. It was as if all that was loving in him vanished when my mother left. In time, Aegon turned to wine and women for comfort. Naerys and I turned to the Faith and each other... which I now realize may not have been all that healthy, or even wise."

"True," Barth said, "but given the circumstances, it is understandable. Does your wife know this?"

"I confess she does not," Aemon said. "And I am not sure she will believe me if I told her. Not now. Not after what happened."

"Try. That is all you can do." Barth sat up straight, his chain clinking as he did so. "Perhaps send the lady a letter. Ask for her forgiveness. Ask what she wants of you, of this marriage."

Asking for forgiveness was easy. But the rest... "I know what my wife wants. Warmth and affection, and to feel desired. I do not know if I can do it."

Barth studied him. "May I ask why?"

"Because warmth and desire lead to lust and sin. That was what I was taught." Aemon repeated the words, but he was starting to doubt them. "We are to tend to spiritual matters instead of turning our eyes to matters of the flesh."

"My lord," Barth said gently, "if the Gods wished us to only turn our eyes to matters of the spirit, they would not have made for us bodies of flesh and blood. Besides, the lady is your lawful wife. What harm can come from indulging her a little?"

Aemon admitted—albeit reluctantly—that there was some truth to the Maester's words. Y/n was his lawful wife. They pledged oaths in the presence of the Seven and men. He placed her under his cloak of protection. Perhaps the Maester was right. There was no harm in showing more and doing more. Still, he had his doubts, his questions. "I was told marriage required only duty and fidelity, nothing more."

"Duty and fidelity are important," Barth allowed, his eyes growing misty as if he was reminiscing. "But if a marriage is to last, it will need more than duty and fidelity. I speak from experience. Besides, few women will take kindly to a cold bed and a loveless marriage." A nearby bell chimed the hour. The Maester stood up and straightened his robes. His stomach was rumbling. Even Aemon heard it. "Walk this old man to the kitchens, my lord. We can talk more about your matter over a meal."

Several hours later, Aemon rode from the Red Keep, heading straight to the tourney grounds. His talk with Maester Barth was illuminating and gave him much to think about. Some of it left him blushing a vivid crimson. Aemon knew little when it came to matters of the marriage bed; that was plain to him now. Atop his courser, he glanced at the shields outside silk tents while he rode past them. A golden rose upon a green field, a golden lion against a background of red, the archer, a cluster of grapes, a leaping silver trout, the sun and spear. There were more, so many more. Aemon could not name them all. He took a deep breath. The air was rich with the scents of ale and mead and meat roasting over braziers.

"Is the queen here?" he asked when a page came to take the reins of his horse.

"Not yet, my lord," the lad said. "But we expect her soon."

Aemon dismounted. A gaurdsman offered him skewers of roasted mutton and potatoes. Out of courtesy, Aemon helped himself to one, talking to some of the others that had gathered before walking to the royal box. Most of the court was already here, awaiting the start of the melee. He smiled at several lords and ladies before taking a seat. Naerys was not here this morn. A full day in the hot sun made her ill. She had to stay back at the Red Keep. Y/n was here, seated at the far end of the box. She was talking to an older, intimidating-looking noblewoman and did her best to ignore Aemon. Remorse welled to the surface again. Y/n was clearly distressed by being here. It was plain to anyone who saw it. The lady next to her seemed to keep her distracted, often asking questions. Aemon looked around and found Lord Commander Hardyng standing nearby. He called him over. "Who is that lady?"

Commander Hardyng allowed himself a few whimpers and crouched down. He lowered his voice so no one would overhear. "That is Lady Cerwyn, my lord. The others next to your wife are her children. They only came here to support Ser Uther." He excused himself when his squire came in search of him. Aemon turned towards Lady Cerwyn again. She was as tall as many of the lords present and carried herself with pride. She was dressed the same as y/n, in a pink gown gathered to a choker that sat around her throat, leaving her arms and shoulders exposed. Crimson drops had been embroidered along the hem of her skirt. Her headdress mimicked the colors of her dress. A bronze medallion belt with a flayed man etched onto each disk looped around her waist.

She is a Bolton, he realized with a start. She must be a sister to y/n's mother.

Lady Cerwyn turned as if she heard his thoughts. Her gaze was as cold as ice; her eyes were pale gray and frightening. The lady may have been a Cerwyn by marriage, but she was a Bolton through and through. Aemon smiled at her, and she nodded curtly in return. The Master of Revels came forward to announce the arrival of the queen. They all rose as one. Daena was accompanied by Lord Commander Hardyng, with her sisters following her. Today she was dressed in silks of black and red. Gold glittered around her throat and her wrists. She seemed to be happy, the anger in her eyes had cooled a little. After she sat down, the rest followed, and the melee commenced.

When the trumpets sounded, dozens of horses charged into the field. It was a frenzy of dust, silk, and armor, of splintering lances and the clash of tourney swords. Someone swung a blunted war hammer. The blunted weapons meant nothing. There were few rules; more than one knight would not survive to see the end of the day. More than once, the people shouted or cried when a knight fell and had to roll out of the way of a rearing horse. There was nothing but violence. Bones shattered and blood spilled onto the soil. Squires had to rush to the middle to drag a knight too wounded to stand.

Aemon glanced over at his wife. Y/n was watching the fighting. There was worry in her eyes, but she kept her composure. The same could have been said for her kin. The only time he saw any reaction was towards the end, when Uther and a knight of the King's Guard were the last two standing. Both men had dismounted and fought on foot.

They hammered and slashed at each other. Neither man was willing to yield to the other. Ser Addam Storm was the better swordsman. Uther had the upper hand with his war hammer. They fought tirelessly and ruthlessly, with Uther ducking to avoid Addam's sword and Addam diving to avoid Uther's war hammer. Y/n and her cousins rushed to the balcony when Uther delivered a decisive blow. They shouted encouragement in the old tongue, spurring Uther to hammer Addam to the ground.

"I yield! I yield!" Addam cried and threw away his sword. He lifted his arms in surrender. "I yield!"

Uther dropped his war hammer and lifted the visor of his helm, revealing a bruised face. The cheers were deafening, and he lapped it all up like an eager puppy.

"There will be no living with that boy after this." Lady Cerwyn said fondly and smiled. She applauded like all the rest, then rose and walked to the balcony. Uther had picked up a trinket thrown to him and tossed it up for his mother to catch. Exhausted, he bowed and took his leave of them all. Lady Cerwyn called her family to her. It was time they took their leave as well.

Aemon followed them out, keeping a respectful distance whenever y/n stopped to introduce her aunt to a curious member of the court. He was behind them until they had reached their carriage. Uther was already inside, holding a clean cloth to his face. His sisters were fussing over him.

"My lady," Aemon cried to Lady Cerwyn while y/n hurried inside. He had a piece of parchment in his hand. "My lady, can you give this to my wife?"

Lady Cerwyn stopped and eyed him with distaste. "A letter?" she said, glancing at the rolled and sealed parchment in his outstretched hand. "Pray what does it contain?"

"An explanation," Aemon said, peeking inside. Y/n was seated by the window on the other side. She had been applying salve to her cousin's bruises. "That is all. Please give this to my wife. I ask for nothing else."

One of Lady Cerwyn's younger sons stuck his head out the window and glared at Aemon. "Not a word from you, Ned," she said sharply, doing a double take. "Or you, Lyanna," she told one of her daughters.

"But Mama..." Ned whined. Lyanna grumbled and sat back down.

"Not a word. I mean it." Lady Cerwyn gave her son a look that brooked no refusal. Ned muttered under his breath but did as his mother commanded. She turned back to Aemon. "An explanation, you say. Is that all?"

"There is more. This letter contains an apology," Aemon replied, still hopeful. The letter was not his finest, he had written it before he left the Red Keep. Aemon still hoped the words were heartfelt. "And a plea for forgiveness. I...I realize I have a great deal to atone for."

Lady Cerwyn studied him and considered his request. "I will give my niece your letter," she finally said, accepting the parchment. "But I will not make any promises."

"I understand," Aemon said gratefully as he helped her into the carriage. "Thank you."

#aemon the dragonknight #aemon the dragonknight x reader #x reader #angst #a world of ice and fire #asoiaf #hotd #aemon the dragonknight imagine #tw: metions of targ marraige #tw: some violence

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somerandomdudelmao · 20 days

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Part 1!

..of an episode that reveals that if something looks like a space horror and sounds like a space horror, maybe it is a space horror.

Who would've guessed?~

Previous Next

Masterpost

#marble sky #marble sky comic #oscar #ward #Sculptor #Alcor #i feel like there should be some tw tags but I don’t know which ones :1 #tw violence #maybe?#ah okay i got it #tw dissection #tw vivisection #no one is cut on the screen but they are mentioning it #tw blood

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misc-obeyme · 5 months

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Some random demons are talking shit about MC at RAD. They're unaware of the fact that Mammon & Satan are in the classroom.

Mammon: Yo, you hearin’ this?

Satan: *not looking up from his book* It's unfortunate we have such idiotic classmates, isn't it?

Mammon: *stands up, grinning* Let’s rumble.

Satan: *snaps his book shut* Fine, but please never say that again.

Destruction ensued. Satan & Mammon refused to tell MC why they were hanging from the ceiling later that day.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#I need more of these two together #been thinking about this since that event where they were both instantly ready to beat up some demons for making fun of Levi #trying out this format for ideas that I don't have time to write full fics about lol #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me satan #om satan #satan obey me #obey me mammon #om mammon #mammon obey me #obey me mc #om mc #tw implied violence #misc writes #misc scenario

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mimikyuno · 10 months

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this one goes out to the meduca and utena gays <3 xoxo

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 1 year

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Danny covered his nose with his hand. Where ever he landed smelled absolutely foul, like rotten fruit and burning tires mixed with chem lab.

"Remind me to bring a face mask the next time I explore the Infinite Realms." He muttered, before kicking a soda can down the alley he was in and being repulsed by the squelch sound it made when it came into contact with a very questionable looking puddle, "Better yet, a gas mask." He glanced at the puddle again, "Or I could go full Hazmat." Clockwork had told him this world was full of superheros and villians and to steer clear of it, but once he learned there were aliens in this world he couldn't help himself. Danny had always been weak to his curiosity, but he liked to believe he was cautious, and chose to stay in his Phantom for for added protection.

Turning on his heel he exited onto a deserted street lined on one side by a chain-link fence. The sky above him was filled with clouds so ominous and dark that Danny honestly couldn't tell you if it was night or day, all he knew was that it was going to rain soon and hopefully these awful smells would be drowned out by the downpour.

Danny got his wish only minutes later. Thankfully Phantom was unbothered by the cold and could just bask in the rain as it fell apon him. A lesser known fact about ghosts is that thier clothes are made from thier ectoplasm and are part of thier bodies, much like a second layer of skin, so one would be able to feel things on thier clothes as easily as they would with thier bare skin. The level of sensitivity varies with the type of clothing however. All this to say Danny loved the feeling of the rivulets of rainwater traveling down his ghostly hazmat suit.

He was so preoccupied with enjoying the sensation that he didn't notice anything was wrong until he was jolted forward from the weight of someone landing on his back. The person was quick and precise, taking no time at all to have his wrists pinned behind his back and- weirdly enough- thier teeth digging into the material around his neck.

His parents designed the Hazmat suit Danny was wearing not only to deal with dangerous chemicals, but to fight supernatural foes. The area around the neck was reinforced with the intention of protecting against fatal gunshots and decapitations so naturally someone's jaw wasn't going to be enough to break through to his neck.

Danny let out a laugh as the person kept chewing on his neck like a confused puppy. Oh, Danny thought, they've gone feral. It was odd for someone to go feral but it could occur when a person has gone through something traumatic recently or through extreme stress. It made sense since the person ridding piggy back on him was dressed like a superhero. Danny wondered if that was why the person didn't have a scent. Danny learns facepalmed when he remembered that scentblockers existed and not everyone's scent dramatically changed whenever they went out as a hero. The scent change was probably one of the few things that have kept him alive up to this point to be honest.

"So, I guess you're not going to tell me why you're chewing on my neck like the worlds most pathetic vampire, are you?" No one deserves that title more than the fruitloop to be honest. He made a mental note to use that one against Vlad the next time he saw him.

Chewy whined at this, seeming to slump a bit from the apparent failure to bite him. What was that about? Was this actually a vampire? How would a vampire even react to Dannys ecto-blood combo meal anyway? Would it be like food poisoning? Or would it taste amazing from one undead to another. "I'm not exactly human, are you sure you wanna bite me? I might not taste so good." Danny warned, but the moment he mentioned letting the person bite him they were eager again.

Danny chuckled and unzipped the material only a bit before it was loose enough to move out of the way. The vampires bite came with a sharp pain like he expected but there was no suction. No drinking of blood. Just some weirdo biting Danny on the neck. Huh.

Danny hoped he didn't get rabies from this.

He must have accidentally said that out loud as there was a small laugh from the rooftops above them. There stood another person in a superhero outfit with some really tall dude dressed as a giant bat, and that was when Danny decided to bail. It was one thing to let a maybe vampire bite you in a random street in the middle of the night but more of them? And ones a big scary furry? Hard pass.

Phantom did as Phantoms do and went invisible and intangible, escaping from Biteys jaws and startling the heros. He ignored the distressed whine Munchy let out after loosing their spookyest chew toy and quickly rubbed the scent gland near dannys jaw on the top of thier head as an act of comfort before bolting.

----

Danny poked at the bite mark on his neck. Screw rabies, he better not get turned into a werewolf. He didn't need that on top of his ghostly crap. Sam seemed fascinated by the mark, after all, it wasn't every day that Danny got a scar, especially one so obvious. Most injuries heal quickly and leave no trace of him ever being injured in the first place which helped a lot in keeping his secret identity.

Luckily Danny hadn't needed to lie to mom and dad. He truthfully told them about some wierdo jumping off of a nearby rooftop and plunging thier teeth into his neck and that two other people had tried to corner him during this. He assured his mom that he had gotten away quickly but was a little shaken by it and his dad praised him for being brave and managing to escape.

That was nice. But he still had to figure out what was up with this bite...and why he felt so compelled to go back to that city.

Back to that hero.

-----

Aka an A/B/O au where in Danny's universe all the Alphas are extinct and the betas followed soon after and the DC universe all the Omegas went extinct and betas followed after . Not like a "they finally went extinct in the 1700s after centuries of thier numbers dwindling" thing and became a myth/fairytale (tho I like that too) but a "this might be the missing link between cave men and modern humans" kinda thing.

Its up to you which bat bit Danny and exactly what that means. I love abo aus without smut cause there's so much potential for chaos and I am very much ace.

#dp x dc #fanfiction prompts #prompts #abo #everyone is confused and no one has answers #i would however like some slowburn romance #whichever bat you choose is going to get teased forever for running up to some random meta and biting the crap outta them #i tricked yall into reading an abo prompt didnt i?#i slept little over an hour last night so i woke up choosing violence #its been a very bad day #the store didnt have a lot of the stuff i needed to buy and on the walk home i saw an older kitten that looked kinda like my cat get hit #the car didnt even stop. poor thing got hit by the next car too and i just stared and it started raining like a freaking movie moment #tw: animal death #tw for the tags #so i got new trauma today #gonna make that everyone elses problem #a/b/o dynamics #kinda #just wanted to add the tag incase yall have it filtered

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uncanny-tranny · 4 months

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The first mistake I see people make is assuming there are completely "nonviolent" ways to be transphobic. It seems like some people conceptualize transphobia as being either violent (which is always physical in some way) or nonviolent (which is "simple" emotional, verbal, or psychological abuse)

It seems, also, that people presume that when somebody has "noble" intentions for their transphobia - "I'm trying to save you!" for instance - it is suddenly nonviolent. Consider, though, how a transphobe would "save" a trans person. Would they allow that person to exist unadulterated (including being able to transition), or would they prefer to put them through conversion therapy, or revoke their access to bodily autonomy, or force them to have children, or anything that will prevent them from transition or even identifying as trans or otherwise tying them down with the obligations that prevent transition or identifying as trans?

There is no true "nonviolent" way to be transphobic because being transphobic relies on denying one the ability to autonomy and personhood. Fundamentally, even the transphobes who "want to save us" only do so in their own self-interest to save them from the horror of knowing that more people than they are alive and thriving.

#trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #transphobia #transphobia tw #it's just very frustrating when i see people act as though some transphobia is more acceptable than other forms...#...simply because it isn't overt with how much it wants trans people eradicated...#...transphobes will do whatever it takes both for their comfort and also to wipe the world clean of trans people #in some cases it looks like infantilism ('youre so young! poor thing you're being MANIPULATED😭') or...#...it could look like outright cut-and-dry violence (conversion therapy or physical abuse). it all depends on the situation...#...what stays the same is the sheer level of hatred and scorn for trans people and the trans condition...#...and it is in that hatred and scorn that you find that ALL forms of transphobia are united...#...so it is just as important to combat ALL forms of transphobia #abuse #abuse tw #abuse mention tw

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ghouljams · 9 months

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Begging for someone to break into Bee’s house and König only finds out bc of the bug, so he takes care of it

Here's where we get more of König being insane about his crush. Introducing(formally) the perimeter alarm.

An alert pings on König's phone as he's herding the last horse into their stall. He pats the over-large animal affectionately as he tugs his phone free and swipes through the notifications. He frowns, opening the property map and scanning for where the break pinged. Your side of the farm, not good. Hopefully it's just a wild animal that's wandered too far from the woods and set off the alarm.

He pulls the back wall of the barn open, survey's his arsenal, then grabs a rifle and a few tranquilizer rounds. If it is an animal, he'd hate to hurt the poor thing. If it isn't... Well better not to take care of it on your property.

It's a short ride through the pasture to get decent sight lines. Your house is dark, that's good. König raises the rifle, steadying it against his shoulder. The small movements of the horse under him are a little tricky, but nothing he can't deal with. Grace under pressure is what got him the rank of colonel in the first place.

He sweeps his sights around your house. While the breach hadn't been too close, it did take him time to get here. No deer, no foxes or coyotes threatening your brightly painted chicken coop, no raccoons in your trash. König frowns, sweeping wider just as a flashlight wanders its way around the blind side of your house. That makes this easier. His brain clicks through calculations, before taking aim and watching for impact. The quiet thunk of his silenced rifle firing is like music to his ears.

The figure startles a little, grasps at the dart's entry point, stumbles and collapses. And they said he couldn't be a sniper.

König rides closer to the fence, and hops off his horse, fishing some rope out of the saddle bags. It's always so easy to hop your fence. He keeps his eyes on your bedroom window, careful to stay quiet as he makes his way to your back door and your would be intruder. It's only when he turns the man over and he feels the cold grip of malice that he really decides what he's going to do next.

The man awakes in a single chair, in a small concrete room. It's dark, the only light coming from a single bare bulb hanging over head. Across from him, König leans forward. Watching with his elbows resting on his knees as the man jerks and panics against his restraints.

"It is very fortunate that I found you when I did," König tells him, "I would not have been able to stop myself if you'd actually gotten into the house."

"Where am I?" The man spits, König clicks his tongue, shakes his head.

"Now now, you are asking the wrong question. You should be asking, 'who are you?'" König motions with his hand, "Go on."

"Fine, who the fuck are you," The man's face is red with barely contained rage.

"I'm the man that's going to kill you."

All the motion seems to drain out of the man, his muscles locking up in fear or perhaps realization as König stands. The little metal table he drags over shakes and bumps along the uneven ground. It's only the noise of it, the sort of slick friction of metal against plastic, that makes the man look down at the tarp covering the floor.

"Don't look so worried, this is going to hurt a lot, but not for very long." König pauses, picking up a file, "Well, not for me anyway. For you it will feel like an eternity."

"I- Whatever it is you want we can work something out," The man asks, begs, leaning back in his chair as best he can as König draws closer. "I've got money, you want money? Or- or- shit!"

"No money," This part is always fun, the begging, the crying, the last shred of hope, "you hurt someone very precious to me, and I can't let that happen again."

"I don't even know who you are," The tears are starting. König grips his jaw hard, forces his mouth open to give the file room to drag against the man's teeth.

"But I know who you are," König hums over the grating noise of file against enamel, the building panicked scream, "and that's all that matters, isn't it?"

Yes, König thinks, that is all that matters. It isn't as if the man is fit to answer the question anyway, what with the amateur dentistry happening. This is really fantastic timing on your ex-husband's part, well fantastic for König. He'd just been wondering if and when would be appropriate to rid your life of this scum. It wasn't like you'd miss him, truly no one would, but timing was -is- everything.

An extended business trip, a few bad investments, a drunken if slightly rabid text exchange. König kept close eyes on his targets, even if he told himself it was just to keep you safe. He knew every detail, every movement this bastard made. How convenient that his tour of stupidity would lead him right into König's hands. His car might be a problem, but it's nothing König hadn't handled before.

König pulls back from his work to stare at the bloody gums and nubbed teeth. The man sobs, gurgled bubbling spit turning red from the rough orthodontics as he tries to speak around the pain. König thinks he'll do the fingers next, maybe try inserting some metal screws into his legs. It doesn't really matter what tortures he puts the man through, it'll all be burned away in the end.

König wakes you up in the morning, his knocking on your front door thunders through your house. Although you suppose it could be anyone knocking on your door, you don't really get any visitors but him. You pull a pair of shorts on to answer the door, just barely awake enough to deal with people. Your alarm isn't set to go off for another two hours at least.

When you pull your door open you blink blearily up at König. His eyes dart over you, taking in your pyjamas as you rub your eyes with a frown. You don't know what was so important it couldn't wait for later in the morning.

"König s'early, what're you doing here?" You yawn. König's expression is soft and affectionate, it's too early for that.

"I thought I'd make you breakfast," He pulls his bandana down for you to see his smile. You hum and turn to go back into the house, figuring he'll follow you like always. König's hand catches your head and spins you to face him again, dragging you for a kiss. His fingers tighten their hold on you as his lips drag against yours. It's the sweetest good morning you've ever gotten. You wonder what's gotten into him.

#König really said “our farm”#cowboy!König #oc: bee #könig x oc #könig call of duty #könig x reader #könig mw2 #tw violence #tw teeth #tw torture #tw stalking #König does some villain shit #he's gonna burn that man to ash and abandon his car at the airport #make everyone think he's just gone on a long trip #months later one of Bee's friends texts to see if he's contacted her at all

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pepperscorn · 5 months

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[ID in alt]

(You would do it again.)

#IM FUCKING CRAZZYYYYY #in stars and time #isat #isat siffrin #siffrin #my art #artscorn #og #in stars and time fanart #isat fanart #image described #described art #adding some tw since a lot of reblogs have them #tw violence #tw blood #tw eye trauma

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metamatronic · 10 months

Note

Please PLEASE tell me we do get a reunion between Greed and Ling?? I'm sobbing just thinking about it!!

first / prev

the boys get to hug. as a treat.

also listen. we all know lan fan could easily take barry in a fight, but we’re suspending disbelief for content, alright?

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #ling yao #lan fan #vato falman #barry the chopper #greed fma #hugh munculus au #hugh monuculus au #gluttony fma #i took some liberties. specifically with those spots on homunculi #but like. why did bradley stab them?? was there a purpose??#im choosing to believe so #also i had to let ling sucker punch him it was only fair #tw blood #canon typical violence

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ronkeyroo · 1 year

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❌ CARNAGE (Tw; blood/gore)

#snarling hot and bloody werewolf people sounds #i grossed myself out with the new blood rendering hgnhgnf 😭 shouldve went for my simple style #BUT #we have some hot jorrvaskr twins being sexy again #sorry for the damage bois ;_;#ill go sleep today has been….bad #take care guys ily #tw; gore #tw: violence #tw; blood #Farkas #vilkas #mid transfo #werewolf #werewolves #skyrim #tes #my art #skyrim art shenanigans

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skyward-floored · 7 months

Text

Whumptober Day 4: Shock, “I see the danger, it’s written there in your eyes”

We had to get to the bloody ones eventually—

This was originally going to be standalone, but one thing led to another and I think there’s going to be another part at some point. I couldn’t make it longer and I’m very stuck on the idea hehe

Warnings: blood & injury, specifically a stab wound, and just general battle violence and injuries

Read it on ao3

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“Ugh, wizzrobes again?” Legend grumbled as he slid under a bolt of electricity. “We just fought some of these clowns yesterday! Did the Shadow just give up on originality?”

“Less complaining, more fighting!” Warriors shouted at him from nearby, and Legend rolled his eyes.

“Less criticism and more fighting!” Hyrule called back with a mischievous look, and Legend almost laughed, though it turned into a yelp when he dodged another bolt of magic.

Wizzrobes were such a pain.

Especially Wild’s.

Warriors shouted at him again, but this time it was a warning, and Legend deftly jumped away from a blast of ice that would have frozen him solid. He nodded a thanks at the captain, and went back to trying to defeat the wizzrobes, which was nearly impossible with how crazily they moved.

Legend dodged a fireball, and quickly turned and shot a blast of ice at the offending monster. It shrieked, and disappeared into a puff of smoke, and Legend swapped out his ice rod for a fire rod, and did the same to another.

The different rods seemed to work well, and along with the others all fighting together, soon there was only one wizzrobe left. It was in a color Legend hadn’t seen before though, and he looked at it suspiciously.

“Yours come in purple now?” he called behind him towards where he knew Wild was sniping.

“I’ve never seen one like that before!” Wild called back, voice uncertain. “I don’t know what it—”

As he spoke, the wizzrobe grinned, letting out a deranged cackle as it shot a huge burst of magic into the sky. Purple lights flashed, and a glowing ball fell from them, dropping down into the clearing and exploding into blinding light before anyone could do a thing.

Legend yelped and covered his face with his shield, but the magic still knocked him off his feet and onto the ground. It shook into his limbs and up to his face, his vision going white and spotty. It didn’t... hurt, exactly, but something about it felt all mixed up inside of him, jolting through his body and limbs, and he felt rather discombobulated.

“Legend!”

The sensation abruptly faded, and he felt arms tugging at him. Legend gingerly opened his eyes, almost surprised he could see at all, and looked up, meeting Hyrule’s worried gaze. The traveler was looking down at him with wide eyes, and Legend blinked a few times to get the last few spots of white out of his vision.

“Are you okay?” Hyrule asked, looking him over worriedly, “you were closest to that beam, it felt like an explosion went off.”

“Fine, fine,” Legend coughed, then gingerly pulled himself up to a sitting position. “Think it was just... magic. I don’t even think it did anything to me.”

“Nothing?” Hyrule asked suspiciously, and Legend shook his head.

“No. Is everyone else okay? Where’d that wizzrobe go?”

“I haven’t checked yet, but since you’re fine I would guess they’ll be—”

An arrow slammed into the ground right between Legend’s feet.

He jumped, and in one swift movement was on his feet with his shield out, back to back with Hyrule as he looked for the enemy who’d shot. He scanned the field as he looked for where his sword had gone to, then he froze, and stared at who had fired the arrow.

Wild stood across the clearing, his bow drawn with an arrow nocked in Legend’s direction. His brows were lowered as he stared at the veteran, stance unusually firm, and something about the way he held himself just screamed danger.

Legend flicked his eyes around, and felt his breath leave him as he saw Warriors and Sky both staring at him as well, swords drawn and angled towards him in a threatening gesture. Time stood on Legend’s other side, claymore raised as he stared silently at the veteran, and Legend’s heart skipped a beat.

He and Hyrule were surrounded. By their own teammates.

No, Legend realized with a dawning horror, sunlight glinting proudly off Time and Warriors’ armor, no not my teammates.

Knights.

“Captain? What’s going on?” Twilight asked nearby, Wind and Four looking equally confused next to him.

“Traitor to the crown,” Warriors said in a low voice, eyes never blinking.

“You kidnapped the princess,” Wild added in a growl.

“We have our orders,” Sky said in a smooth voice, and raised the Master Sword accusingly. “Dead or alive.”

Legend couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t be crazy!” Wind said in disbelief, looking at Time and Warriors with a shocked expression. “Legend didn’t do anything! What’s wrong with you guys?!”

“The wizzrobe,” Four said with a sharp inhale. “That attack must have done something to make them think he’s the enemy.”

“Time, please, you know Legend, he hasn’t done anything wrong,” Twilight said gently, inching towards him. But Time stopped him with a firm glare, his sword never lowering. The knights all took a step closer to Legend, and he felt Hyrule stiffen at his back.

“Legend, you need to run,” Hyrule whispered. “Now.”

Legend couldn’t move.

Suddenly he was eleven again, staring at a wanted poster with his face on it, wondering why the reward was so high. He was eleven, screamed at by the townsfolk, and surrounded by guards just for trying to walk into the village to buy food on his quest. He was eleven, chased down by brainwashed knights and forced to fight them, some of them people he knew, his uncle’s friends, raise his uncle’s sword against them and hurt them—

“Legend RUN!”

He snapped back into himself just in time to avoid a thrust from Warriors, and Hyrule grabbed his wrist when he merely stared at the weapon that had almost killed him, pulling him away.

“Come back you traitor!” Warriors shouted, and Legend blinked, able only to watch in numb shock as Four and Twilight leapt to defend him, Hyrule still dragging him away.

Sky leapt forward, then cried out as the Master Sword fell from his grip, sparking as she was about to be used against one of her own. Wind took the opportunity to tackle him, and Legend watched blankly as the sailor wrestled Sky’s pouch away from him so he couldn’t grab any more weapons.

“Don’t hurt them!” Wind cried out, still struggling with Sky, “they’re not themselves!”

“Keep them away from Legend!” Twilight shouted as he crossed swords with Warriors, the captain swinging his blade with fierce strokes.

Hyrule nodded, and blocked a slew of arrows from plunging into Legend’s chest, then yanked him behind his back as he avoided a huge swing from Time.

“You’ve betrayed us all!” Time spat, and Hyrule crossed blades with him, nearly driven to his knees by the force of it. “You’re nothing but a false hero, poisoning the land with your lies!”

The words were like a knife, and Legend could only watch in blank shock, stunned as Hyrule struggled against Time, as Twilight and Warriors still fought against each other, Wind nearly getting punched in the face by Sky while Four tried desperately to get close enough to Wild to stop him from sniping them all down—

“Legend! Snap out of it!” Hyrule shouted as he somehow managed not to be lopped in two by another of Time’s swings. “You’re going to get killed, wake up!”

He wasn’t sure if it was the phrase or the desperation in Hyrule’s voice, but Legend finally snapped into action, firmly shaking himself. You can freak out later when half of your team isn’t trying to kill you!

Legend dove for his gilded sword, but hissed at the warning spark he felt as he grabbed it. Sometimes he forgot his blade was another version of the Master Sword, upgraded and changed, but at times like these it was impossible.

I’m not going to hurt them, I’m only defending myself, he begged as it got hotter, still stubbornly holding on even as his hands began to burn. Please, you know I’m not!

The hilt scorched his hands, and Legend was forced to shove it into its sheathe, grabbing in his pouch for a backup sword. Before he could though, something swung towards him, and he only barely got his shield up in time to block it.

The strike threw him to the ground for the second time today, and Legend nearly had the breath knocked out of him. His eyes widened as Wild raised a claymore of some kind to strike him with, and he just barely managed to roll out of the way of another hit.

“Champion I don’t want to have to hurt you,” he gritted out, but Wild didn’t reply.

His face was eerily closed-off as he tried to hit him, strikes almost clinically precise. Legend had to dodge all over the place, and he still got a shallow cut on his arm. Not to mention his hands were smarting from trying to use the gilded sword, and every time a hit rang out against his shield, he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out.

Wild swung again, and Legend gritted his teeth and used his backup sword to shove the champion backwards, then grabbed for his ice rod again. His aching fingers closed around it, but then he felt his entire body freeze in place, yellow shining in his vision.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t defend himself. He couldn’t do anything, and he suddenly realized that Wild must have used the stasis rune on his slate on him.

No, no no no no no—

Before he could panic too much, the magic broke, and Legend stumbled, thrown off-balance. He looked around in surprise, then saw Four standing next to him, having frozen Wild’s feet to the ground with Legend’s own dropped ice rod.

He could only stare at him for a second, and startled as Four yanked him behind his shield, blocking the arrows Wild was shooting at them again.

“Should have gotten his arms too,” he cursed, then turned towards Legend. “Vet, they’re all after you, you need to go find that wizzrobe and beat it. That should break the magic, I think it’s our best bet. We can keep them all busy while you go.”

“But— you’re outnumbered,” Legend said a bit hysterically, his panic over the whole situation starting to come back, “not in numbers but skill, have you ever seen Sky and the captain duel? Not to mention the old man, he could probably take on all of you at once—”

Four put a hand on his arm, and gave him a small smile as he raised his sword.

“I can get us some more help. But you need to go.”

Legend swallowed, but he knew Four was right, and gave him a nod as he grabbed his ice rod and bolted in the direction he’d last seen the wizzrobe.

He suddenly felt like he was eleven again.

He caught sight of Hyrule as he ran, the traveler using his magic to stay away from Time’s deadly swings. He had blood on his leg, but his face was as determined as ever, and he firmly blocked Time from following when the older hero saw Legend running away.

“Coward!” he heard shouted behind him, but Legend kept running despite the sting it left in his chest.

He bolted past Twilight, who had an arrow in his arm and multiple other injuries, but was continuing to fight anyway, blocking Warriors’ strikes with a grieved look, almost like he’d been forced to do this before. Wind was still wrestling with Sky, fists flying as the Skyloftian tried desperately to get his weapons back, but Wind was determined to keep him down.

Every instinct of Legend’s was screaming at him to turn around and fight, help his friends, his brothers, he had so many items that could help them— but he forced himself to continue, ignoring a pained cry when he heard it.

Legend was smart enough to realize the only way they would all get out of this alive would be if he broke the curse. They couldn’t stand against some of the best fighters of their group forever— it was only a matter of time before someone was seriously hurt.

But no matter how many times he told himself that, it still felt like he was abandoning them.

This is the only way to help right now. You’re not leaving them, you’re doing what needs to be done.

If you stayed here, you would only make their job more difficult.

Legend searched desperately through the trees for a flash of purple, hoping desperately the wizzrobe was still in the area.

He had no way of knowing if he was looking in the right spot or not. For all he knew, the wizzrobe was long gone, but he kept looking, even as the clashing of swords still rang in his ears, and a scream that sounded a bit like Four echoed nearby.

Legend bit down on his lip so hard he tasted blood, and ignored the stinging that had started up in his eyes as he searched.

The others were back there somewhere, fighting against their brothers, risking their lives, all for him, to keep him safe, and he’d frozen and barely helped them and now he couldn’t even find the stupid wizzrobe.

“Come on! Come out and fight me!” he screamed, voice breaking a little. “Are you afraid? Because you better be!”

A giggle flitted through the trees, and Legend shot a blast of ice out, the laughter only growing.

Purple weaved through the foliage, and Legend shot another blast out, obviously missing due to the giggle he overheard. He knew his emotions were making him sloppy, and Legend forced himself to steady his hand. He breathed out, lowering his weapon and acting as if he was unaware of where the wizzrobe was.

Come on, take the bait...

A giggle erupted in his face, and Legend thrust out his ice rod, making the wizzrobe scream as it was launched backwards. It fell to the ground, stuck solidly in a chunk of ice, and Legend pulled out his fire rod, prepared to burn it to a crisp.

Then something hit him in the side, and he went flying, crying out as he fell to the grass.

His side ached where he’d been hit, and before he could move, what felt like a foot stepped down on his chest, pressing against his doubtlessly bruised ribs and stopping him from getting up. Legend opened his eyes and saw Warriors staring silently down at him, sword raised to pierce him through.

Somehow he’d gotten past the others.

“Wars— Warriors don’t,” Legend choked out, struggling to catch his breath. “Link, please I’m not your enemy!”

“You’re a traitor,” Warriors said in a cold voice, still not blinking. He had blood running down his face from a cut over his eye, but his face showed no sign of pain. “My orders are clear.”

“Captain wake up!” Legend shouted, terror rising in his throat. “You’re not yourself, you’d never hurt any of us, snap out of it!”

Warriors didn’t react in the slightest, and raised his sword.

Legend felt a burst of panic, and he shot his arm out, feeling desperately for where he’d dropped his fire rod. If he could just kill the wizzrobe, Warriors would wake up, the spell would break—

Warriors’ sword went down as Legend’s fingers closed around his rod, and he shot a desperate plume of flame towards the dazed wizzrobe.

The fire hit it right as Warriors’ sword buried itself in his middle, and Legend’s scream mixed with the wizzrobe’s, hot agony slicing into his chest. The sword was pulled out again only seconds later, but then Warriors stumbled back, the weapon dropping from his hands.

Legend barely noticed, trying not to scream again as the sword fell to the ground beside him, already feeling blood start to dampen his tunic.

Okay, okay okay easy, you’ve been stabbed before, no big deal. Just because Warriors was who did it doesn’t change a thing, put pressure on it, you need to put pressure—

His chest burned and Legend couldn’t hold back a cry, taking thick breaths through his nose.

Goddesses please, not like this, he’ll never forgive himself.

“L-Legend?” Warriors said dizzily, shaking his head as he tried to clear it. He put a hand to his forehead, and blinked several times, wiping blood from his face with a confused look. “Vet, what...”

Then his eyes focused, and he noticed the stab wound in his chest.

“LEGEND!”

Warriors dropped to his knees beside him, and Legend couldn’t help but jerk away from him, nearly shrieking as the captain immediately pressed his hands to his middle, trying to stem the flow.

“Legend don’t move, what happened how did this...”

Warriors trailed off as his gaze landed on his bloodied sword, and every bit of color drained from his face as he recognized it as his own.

“Legend?” he said shakily, and Legend swallowed, unable to stop himself from meeting his eyes.

A sword was abruptly pressed to Warriors’ neck, and Legend watched dizzily as Twilight forced the captain back, the look in his eyes equally furious and horrified. Warriors jerked like he wanted to go back to Legend, but he raised his arms in surrender, and moved back as Hyrule dropped to his side. More of the Links rushed into the clearing around Legend, but Warriors only had eyes for him, confusion and horror shining bright.

Hyrule’s hands pressed against his middle, and Legend sucked in another trembling breath.

“It— it’s gone,” he stuttered, and felt something warm slip past his lips. Oh that’s not good. “Wizzrobe— he’s not— not g-gonna—”

“Don’t talk Legend, you’ll be fine,” Hyrule said firmly, and Legend wasn’t sure if he imagined the tremble in his voice or not. “Just stay awake, okay? I’m gonna fix you up.”

Hyrule moved a careful hand around his chest, feeling at the injury, and Legend tensed, hissing through his teeth. Someone’s hand touched his head, and he flinched, choking as something moved in his middle.

The cold he’d been trying to ignore was growing closer now, nipping at his extremities, trying to suck him down. Legend firmly ignored the feeling, despite how easy it would be to sink into it, and focused on Hyrule’s face, blearily realizing there was blood on his shoulder. He wondered who had done that to him.

The pressure on his chest abruptly increased, and Legend couldn’t muffle his scream, so many sensations hitting him that his brain couldn’t even process it.

Then something began to trickle through his middle, something that warmed the cold that had been falling over him. Warmth blossomed in his chest, different from the hot blood that had been trickling across it, and Legend exhaled, relaxing slightly as Hyrule’s magic wove through him.

Once he could focus enough to realize Hyrule was still healing him, he reached down and grabbed his wrist, giving him a look.

“I’m good, don’t overextend yourself,” he said a little shakily, and he cut Hyrule off when he went to argue. “You already used a lot of magic, I saw you.”

“You lost a lot of blood,” Hyrule retorted.

“Well I’m not the only one who’s going to need healing,” Legend said more quietly, and Hyrule stopped, the glow fading from his hands.

Twilight appeared in his vision then, arrow still jutting from his arm, and he scanned Legend’s bloodstained middle in silence. Then he met Legend’s gaze, looking much older then he normally did.

“You definitely got the wizzrobe?” he asked seriously, and Legend nodded, his eyes suddenly heavy with exhaustion.

“It’s dead. The spell broke the moment I got it,” he said in a quiet voice. “They won’t... they’re safe.”

Oh gods I hope they are.

Twilight exhaled, and nodded, putting a hand on Legend’s arm.

“Okay. Try and get some rest, Veteran. We’ll handle things.”

“Take the literal arrow out of your arm first,” he muttered back, and a faint smile pulled at Twilight’s lips.

“We’re working on fixing everyone up. Rest. We can... we’ll figure all of this out later,” Twilight said quietly, glancing behind him at something. Legend followed his gaze, and saw Warriors sitting on a log, staring silently at the blood on his hands.

The others who’d been affected by the wizzrobe were nearby, and Sky looked like he was trying to talk to the captain, but Legend looked away as Hyrule began to bandage his middle.

Traitor!

Legend closed his eyes, and tried not to listen to any of the voices that still rang around his head, or focus on the horrified look of Warriors’ that was still seared into his mind.

He didn’t want to think about it. Any of it.

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