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Be Dkdian

Hallowed Be Thy Ashes

Once, there was light. Once, there were men who believed in gods, who built their kingdoms atop the bones of the fallen and drank deep from the veins of the earth, thinking themselves mighty. But the light is gone now, and the gods have drowned in the black tide of their own deceit. The world is a vast and seething thing, its skies thick with smoke that does not rise from fire but from something deeper, older—something that has been watching, waiting, hungering. The cities stand like mausoleums, their spires reaching desperately for heavens that no longer listen. In the great courts of the nobles, the masked and the damned play at civility, waltzing on floors slick with centuries of betrayal. They are not men anymore, not truly—they are echoes, puppets pulled by unseen strings, twisting their knives in games of power that no longer matter. The kings of death, their crowns rusted and their flesh long decayed, whisper prophecies of endings even they cannot fathom. Beneath the streets, beneath the stone, beneath the very skin of the world, something writhes. The dead do not sleep here, they do not rest—they plot. They whisper in voices like cracking bone, singing hymns of ruin to deities who no longer speak, who have forgotten even their own names. And yet, their will remains, etched into the marrow of creation itself. And then there is him. He has no past, no name worth carving into the annals of history. He is not a hero, nor a villain, nor even a man—he is a force, a wound torn through the fabric of a dying world. He does not rage because he chooses to. He rages because it is all there is left. He has seen the suffering, the endless cycles of deception, of power shifting from one wretched hand to another. He has seen the gods rise and fall, has watched kings build their empires only to drown in their own excess. He does not seek to rule, nor to save—he seeks only to end. But the world is not so kind as to simply burn and be done with it. No, it fights. It writhes. It plots. There are things older than kings, older than gods—things that do not want salvation, do not want balance, but only to exist, to keep the cycle turning, to let the suffering continue because it must. They whisper in the ears of the desperate, promising power, promising escape, promising meaning where there is none. They have no faces, no forms, only presence, seeping into the hearts of men, into the bones of reality itself. And so, the game continues. The nobles lie. The kings rot. The gods stir. The dead plot. And he—he burns. But even fire is not enough to cleanse this world, for the embers do not die. They scatter, carried by winds that have no master, to be caught in the hands of the next fool who thinks they are strong enough to wield them. There is no hope. No salvation. No final mercy. Only the great unraveling, the long decay, the inevitable ruin. And the jester? The jester does not laugh. For what laughter could exist in a world that has already lost?
Giraffed899 · 2.1K Views

Dare to Be Mine

She hadn’t expected to be cornered like this, not here, not now. His tall frame loomed over her, blocking any escape as he stood inches from her, pinning her to the wall with his presence alone. His hand rested just above her head, his fingers brushing the cool surface of the locker, creating a barrier that trapped her in place. Her breath caught, her heart thundering in her chest as she realized how little space was left between them. His eyes were dark, full of something she couldn’t decipher but desperately wanted to understand. He stared at her, not saying anything at first, just letting the silence stretch between them. She could feel her pulse race, her face flushing, her body frozen, even though she wanted to push him away. “What are you going to do about it?” he asked, his voice smooth, teasing, and filled with a challenge. There was something in the way he spoke, something that made her stomach twist with a mixture of confusion and excitement. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. Her hands hung at her sides, unsure whether to push against his chest or hold herself back. She couldn’t tell if she wanted him to step closer or if she just wanted to run far away from the intensity that radiated from him. “Stop…” she murmured, but the word felt too weak, too powerless against the gravity pulling them together. “What do you want from me?” His lips curled into a small, almost predatory smile. “I want you to stop pretending you don’t feel it,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving hers. His closeness was suffocating, but in the most intoxicating way. The tension between them was palpable, like a storm ready to break. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing as if they were the only two people in the world. She wanted to fight back, wanted to be strong and resist, but something in her—something deep inside—kept her rooted to the spot. He was her classmate, the guy everyone knew, the one with that effortless confidence that made all the girls swoon. And now here he was, making her feel things she wasn’t sure how to deal with. Her hands trembled, caught between pushing him away and giving in to the wild, dizzying pull she felt toward him. She was terrified, but there was also a spark of curiosity, of something she couldn’t quite control. “I’m not… ready for this,” she whispered, though her voice shook with uncertainty. “I don’t even know what you’re doing.” He didn’t answer right away, his gaze softening just enough to let her know that he was listening, that he wasn’t in a rush. He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against her cheek. “I think you do,” he murmured. “You just don’t want to admit it yet.” Amidst the whirlwind of school friendships, and the pressure. Can anyone dare to be open to the possibility with someone who seems so unreachable?
Nero_Zone · 14.2K Views

BE my wifey

In this heartwarming and captivating romance, Be My Wifey takes readers on an emotional journey of love, trust, and second chances. Amara Collins is a strong-willed, independent woman who has sworn off relationships after a painful heartbreak. Focusing on her thriving career, she’s determined to avoid the distractions of romance. That is, until she crosses paths with Noah Bennett—a charming, successful entrepreneur who seems to have everything, except the one thing he truly desires: a lasting love. When a chance encounter brings them together, sparks fly, and Noah is immediately drawn to Amara’s spirit and beauty. Despite her reluctance, he’s determined to win her over. But Noah carries a secret—a family obligation that comes with a surprising proposal. In a twist of fate, he offers Amara an unconventional deal: pretend to be his fiancée for a few months to fulfill a family tradition, and in exchange, he’ll help her achieve a personal goal she's always dreamed of. Caught between logic and the undeniable chemistry they share, Amara agrees to the arrangement. But as they navigate the challenges of pretending to be a couple, feelings they never expected begin to surface, complicating their seemingly simple deal. With their hearts on the line and personal stakes rising, will they be able to separate fantasy from reality—or will their pretend love turn into something real? Be My Wifey is a heartfelt story about taking risks, opening up to love again, and discovering that sometimes, what starts as a game can lead to a lifetime of happiness.
Dunamis_Oriade_3547 · 4.3K Views