nightofstarfallanddreams replied to your post “so i know that a lot of minecraft kings/mad king ryan aus will make...”
So like can we expect a fic of mad king turning into dark god and just eliminates mogar?
Hell hath no fury, one had to think. Months after the Mad King was run out of his own kingdom, escaping with his broken crown and Mogar on his tail, he had returned to exact revenge on the kingdom that tried to force him out. He did not return a man, no, but a full fledged God. One that would reign with darkness and passion.
His warrior, loyal follower, the human who had unquestioningly followed him through the wilderness and his crazed plans to become immortal, walked close beside him, hand on the hilt of his sword as usual. Admittedly, Mogar had no need for it anymore - Ryan knocked down villagers, soldiers, all those traitors alike with a flick of fingers, and crushed them all with the squeeze of his fist, until all that was left were the blood-spattered buildings of a nation he once ruled.
His castle stood tall and proud, the sweet smell of death and metallic tang of blood in the air. Mogar opened the doors for him, and he passed through into the throne room. The banners had changed, and now he and Mogar were the only ones left but it was still his.
“I didn’t expect it to be so easy,” Mogar supplied, examining the throne room’s walls as Ryan made himself comfortable on his throne, adjusting the rusted, broken crown on his head.
“Did you doubt me?”
“Of course not. I overestimated the humans, is all.” Mogar pressed a loose stone of the wall, peering inside the room that appeared with a slow slide of rock. “They have their wine here, I see.”
“Saving it for a celebration?”
Mogar shot him a grin. “We have plenty to celebrate now, don’t you think?” A moment later, the warrior returned, two goblets full of dark wine. He bowed before the throne, just like in days gone by where he would rush in to give Ryan a status report, or tell him of a mission’s success. “The old king is dead, long live the Dark God,” He handed Ryan a goblet, downing his own in a swallow. Ryan watched him, twirling his own cup in his hands. Something... wasn’t right.
Becoming a God was not easy. He had lost his eyes, his heart, perhaps what was left of his mind, to pursue the ultimate power, one that could not be usurped. And he had returned to his kingdom to set right what was wrong - to reinstate himself as its sovereign, and slaughter everyone who had doubted his rule. He had thought the voices, the wrenching feeling in his gut, would subside. But there was something remaining, something that still plucked at random threads of thought in the back of his mind, that whispered to him in a voice he thought he knew. Looking down at Mogar, the only man he could ever trust, his eyes widened in realization.
“Come here,” he ordered, and of course Mogar went, bending on one knee, his head nearly in Ryan’s lap. Ryan couldn’t help but smile when he held out his hand, and Mogar kissed a signet ring there.
“Mogar... my loyal, ferocious warrior,” He held the man’s chin in his hand, “the only human that was ever worthy of my affections.” He pulled back slightly, examining his goblet. “There is something you should know.”
Mogar blinked. “Yes, my God?”
Ryan tossed his goblet to the side, metal clattering and wine splashing onto the floor. “Kings celebrate with wine,” he sneered, before swiping his hand across Mogar’s throat. As a man, the blow may not have even produced a scratch, but with his magic fueling the motion, Mogar’s throat was slit. His hand shot up to keep the wound shut. But it was too deep, and bleeding too profusely to stop.
Mogar looked up at him, dark eyes wide and misty with tears of pain. Ryan paid the expression no mind, instead swiping his thumb carefully over the exposed line of Mogar’s throat, collecting the red on his finger and placing it on his tongue to taste. “Real Gods require blood.” He sat back on his throne, and with a perfunctory kick of his foot, Mogar was sent spiraling onto the stone. He was dead before he hit the ground.
And that strange feeling he had welling inside him? The whispered thoughts that seemed to... idolize that man, single him out as someone special? They had screamed at him as Mogar bled out, but even they faded into nothingness not long after. Ryan sighed, relaxing on his throne.
The remnants of Ryan the man were gone, and only the Dark God remained.
thank you @kaaaaaaarf and @lifeisabitch-butimcute hehe
“Draco, I don’t know what you want from me.” Ron’s voice is low, he sounds exhausted. Harry watches him take a step forward, watches him try to reach out, to hold Draco’s boney shoulder in his huge hand.
“I want you to want me.”
“I do want you, you know I want you.”
“I want you to want me first.”
“What?”
Draco steps right up into Ron’s space, Harry can see he’s crying. Lashes pale and clumped, cheeks red and wet. Draco pulls at his shirt collar, where the tops of his scars glint under the shifting light.
“He hurt me.”
“Draco.” Ron’s voice cracks over the syllables.
“He hurt me and you still want him more.”
Ron sounds devastated. Harry’s never heard him like that, not in the forest, not after the battle, not ever. “You hurt him too.”
Draco sobs and stumbles and Ron reels him in, cradles him against his chest, hand cupping the back of his head as Draco cries, cries like a child, cries like Harry was never allowed to.
Harry feels something in his chest, something painful and burning. He turns to leave, he shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t know why he’s still here. He’s not paying attention, he has to get out. He runs straight into the console table and knocks the lamp over.
He watches the lamp fall, hears the glass shatter loud against the wood floor where the runner doesn’t reach, and feels more than sees Ron’s head whip around at the noise.
no pressure tagging @sixlane, @quillkiller, @sugarsnappeases and @ecstarry and everyone else bcs I love love love reading all of these!!!!!!!
Clem inhaled softly into her coffee, breathing in the fresh aroma of caffeine. She was doing her best not to lose her MIND in the midst of all the chaos of town and coffee seemed like the perfect way to do just that. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw Laura, one of the prettiest blondes in the whole damn place. As far as she was concerned-- she was one of the best ones considering her personality. Clem couldn’t help but smile.
“ Laura! ” She called, leaning onto her elbows, “ need a spot? ” The girl nodded toward the empty chair beside her, hoping she’d take it up. She definitely could use the company.
Jezebel paced left and right, hesitant to enter the door in front of her. She knew what she was about to so would most likely get her into some hot water, but her good conscious just wouldn't let what she saw go. No one deserved to dish out such a brutal attack and be allowed to get away with it. Especially outside of the ring.
That thought alone was enough to give her confidence to stop dilly dallying and to knock on the door.
"Holland. It's Jezebel. I'm coming in." She announced before opening the door and shyly stepping into the room. She closed the door behind her and stood in front of her boss, turning on a serious and professional mood.
"Before you say anything, I know you're very busy, so I'll just cut to the chase..." She took a deep breath. "I'm sure you have heard and seen the vicious attack Lady Aviary had dealt to Theodosia Mulligan, I'm sure we all have." She stopped speaking for a moment, remembering the terrifying video. "And this isn't the first time she's displayed these, for a lack of a better word, 'psychopathic' tendencies."
"... Anyway. I'm here, on not only the behalf of Theo, but on the safety and wellbeing of rest of the roster as well. I think... Lady Aviary should be suspended from further WSW activities and matches."
