#wasteland walkers

[elistilldoodles]

@vaultgirl2077 Maya's inside getting high I can't unthink about it

[diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls]

[druidgroves]

i think anyone could convince georgia of anything in the wasteland if they could somehow provide her with an ice-cold sweet tea made the proper way. she'd go against her morals for a good sweet tea. she'd kill a man.

[wanderingskychild]

When the Crab Walker visited some time ago, I came across a group of skykids here in the shipwreck of Golden Wasteland. They were collecting crabs and performing so strange ritual with them. Here it is. I’m the one in the yellow cape by the way.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

What the Gods Gave Us

fancast!benji blackwood x targ!fem!reader

apocalypse asoiaf/f&b au 

Summary: The Gods chose their own side during the dance of the dragons and decided to cast the realm into winter and death. Only three dragons remain alive to see the fruition of Aegon the Conquers dream. 

Warnings: 18+ mentions of death, death, swearing, blood, fingering, p in v, heavy au, plot heavy

Authors Note: a request from @chainsawsangel that I absolutely got carried away with :) in reality I should’ve made this multiple parts but fuck that we gots to see it thru

Word Count: 9k just be chill about it 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

When the dance began the Gods looked down upon us and frowned. They cast the world into winter and allowed death to come from above the wall. No one was spared from what broke down the barrier in the north and came flooding through. It didn’t happen slowly. In under a week the entire realm was cast in snow and bitter winds. Sicknesses wiped out entire houses. Noble and low born families alike were torn apart and scattered across the wastelands that used to once be the great seven kingdoms of Westeros. 

Winter took our entire family and most of our dragons. The only remaining Targaryens in this world are me and my two brothers. When the snow started sticking our mother sent us and our dragons to hide within the crumbling walls of Harrenhal. The only place that seems to be untouched from decay here is the weirwood. Its eyes follow us as we walk across the grounds as it pours buckets of blood from its eyes. There’s an old kind of magic about this fallen castle that deters the white walkers from entering. 

The only other living creature here is Alys Rivers who only speaks in riddles and hides herself away in her chambers with her potions and ramblings. We try to avoid her but we’ve made her an honorary member of our family. She cooks and cares for us and we offer her protection and go out and get supplies. Today’s supply run has us traveling to Ironmans bay. She’s seeking a specific plant that only grows on the coast of the Iron Islands. 

“Why must I stay here with her?” Luke whines pleading with me and Jace to come with.

“You are young and so is your dragon. We’re not risking it. Taking two dragons out is as big of a calling card that we can deal with.” Jaces voice does not falter as he orders Luke to stay. 

“Mother said we’re supposed to stick together.” Luke looks between the both of us with sad eyes. 

“We always come back.” I cup his cheek hoping to offer him comfort.

“Please come back.” Luke’s eyes water as he pulls us into a hug. 

It’s never my want to leave him behind but I would much rather have him here than out there with us. Jace and I cover ourselves with white fur and leave the main hall. Our dragons chuff to us as we mount and take to the skies. We always fly in the clouds if we’re able. We don’t want to announce our moves during these trying times. We fly over countless pyres. I’m thankful our word got out that the one way to kill these things is fire and we have the biggest weapon against them. 

The flight to the coast is quick and freezing. We land on the shores and pull out a rough drawing of the plant that Alys gave us. Jace curses under his breath and kicks the snow away. It took a lot of convincing on my end for him not to kill or kick Alys out of Harrenhal when we first arrived. He’s been so angry at the world and I get it. I’m living in this frozen hell with him and I’m slowly losing hope as the moons pass. 

“I don’t care about her stupid fucking plants. We could be using our time differently.” he crosses his arms standing next to Vermax. 

“Using our time to do what Jace? What else could we possibly be doing? If you want to go sulk around that crumbling castle then go.” my voice rises with my anger. 

His breath clouds in front of him as he sighs and begins to look for the plants we’re here for. I hear a groan of string and wood and fall to the ground as I hear the arrow coast through the breeze. I turn and see Jace rising from the ground unsheathing his sword. I turn and see a handful of men running towards us and another bursts out from the tree line and starts cutting them down one by one. Jace and I look to each other before we turn back to the man who was so ready to lay his life down for us. 

“That’s close enough.” Jace raises his blade to the man walking towards us who stops and falls to one knee. 

“I swore fealty to your mother and that extends to her children as well. My sword is yours.” he bows his head and I turn to Jace. 

“What do we need your fealty for? What do you think we’re ruling over? Death and decay?” the man’s head pulls up as he looks beyond as at our dragons. 

“If anyone could bring the realm back together it would be the dragons. It was word from your mouths that fire will kill them no?” he rises to his full height. 

“What is it that you want?” Jaces voice calls over to him. 

“Shelter and safety. These Bracken cunts slaughtered the last of my men. I’ve been hunting them down for days now.” he turns to them and lets sparks rain upon them as their bodies go up in flame.

“And what is your name?” I raise my chin looking him over. 

“Benjicot Blackwood.” he bows his head once more. 

“What is it that you can offer us if we take you with us?” I ask assessing him. 

“I have no dragon or dragon flame but I have a sword and flint and they offer the same results.” he holds his sword out with both hands offering it to us. 

“I say we burn him and leave.” Jace says from my side and my eyes bulge. 

“Why would we do that? He’s just one person. Surely we can use his hands and sword.” I try to reason with him. 

“I’m sure you would like to use his sword.” he sneers at me and it takes all my strength not to punch him in the face. 

“I will cut your tongue out if you speak to me like that again.” I hiss back to him. 

“If you want him then search him and see if your dragon will allow him to ride back with you. I’m not dealing with this.” he waves me off and walks back to his dragon. 

“Alright, let’s go.” I nod my head for Benjicot to come to me. “I will search your pack and person and then we will see if my dragon will allow you to ride him and then we’ll go back to where we stay.” I hold out my hand expectantly. 

“Where is it that you stay?” he hands me his pack and my hands stop searching as I see the plants Alys is looking for. 

“What are you doing with these plants?” I look to him with scrunched brows. 

“They help staunch the never ending hunger.” he tilts his head. 

“Very well, do you have anything on your person that I need to be concerned about?” I close the bag and toss it back to him. 

“You can come let your hands roam all over me and find out for yourself.” he smirks unabashed. “The only thing you might find concerning is how much you enjoy it.” I gasp at his words as a laugh falls from my lips. 

“You are very bold.” I offer him a smile of my own as I feel my body heat. “Let’s see if you get to come home with me or become a meal for my dragon.” I hum and he chuckles lowly walking to my side. 

My dragon looks over him licking his teeth. I don’t know if it’s boldness or lack of care for his life but he walks up to my dragon and holds his hands out. My dragon seems as taken aback as I am and looks to me and huffs. I shrug my shoulders and walk past Benjicot to his wing. 

“Well are you coming, Benjicot?” I turn raising my eyebrow to him. 

“You can call me Benji.” he smiles walking to my side with confidence in his step. 

Vermax and Jace shoot to the skies and we’re close behind them. Benji holds onto my sides tightly and I welcome in the extra warmth. The chill goes to the bone once the sun begins to set and I’m thankful for our quick flight back to our crumbling fortress. Benji slides down after me and Jace scoffs before strutting into the main doors. 

“You’ve found the plants.” she looks to Benji and I look to her confused but not surprised that she knew of Benji from all her self proclaimed premonitions that I’m starting to believe more of everyday.

“This is-“ 

“Benjicot.” Alys nods her head taking his pack and disappearing with it leaving us confused. 

“She’s an interesting woman.” Benji says chuckling. 

“Who is this?” Luke bounds down the stairs and looks to Benji.

“Benji Blackwood. We found him wandering.” I offer. 

“Jace isn’t happy.” Luke says looking to me. 

“I’m well aware.” I roll my eyes and turn to Benji. “Come let’s find you a room.” he trails after me as we walk deeper into the castle. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It has been just over a moon since we brought Benji back and Jace hasn’t gotten anymore welcoming. Luke on the other hand has taken a liking to him and it warms my heart to see Luke smile and laugh again. I want this for Jace but I don’t think he wants it for himself and that’s why he closes in on himself. I keep wanting to talk to Jace about Benjis words to us when we first met him. How us and our dragons could bring the realm back together. I talk about this a lot with Benji and he’s told me that there are survivors out there who believe this as well. I’ve been thinking about this nonstop and even have entertained the idea with Alys. 

“What do you propose?” Alys hums as I sit at the stone table while she’s crushing plants. 

“I don’t know. Something. We can’t possibly live like this forever. There has to be something we can do.” I try to search her eyes for any clue of to what she’s thinking. 

“The Gods are angry.” she offers me an unsettling smile. 

“They’ve taken it out on the realm what else is there left for them to take?” I ask exasperated. 

“They can take anything they please.” she hums moving around the table. 

“There has to be something we can do to change the tides. Are we not of the line that is supposed to end this war? Is the song of ice and fire truly just a tale?” I nibble on my bottom lip and she turns quickly to me. 

“So you know?” she raises an eyebrow. 

“Of the dream, yes, but what are we to do? There’s only three of us.” I sigh rubbing my forehead. 

“Return to Dragonstone and retrieve the glass.” her words ominous. 

“What glass?” I ask tilting my head. 

“Beneath the castle. You’ll know it when you find it.” she waves me off. “Bring both of your brothers and Benjicot.” she adds as I exit. 

As I walk up the stairs to find them my mind races with the confirmation Alys just gave me. I know Jace is going to scold me but I truly believe this with my being. I find Jace and Luke lounging in front of the great hearth. Benji is sat on the other side of the room near the window gazing out. I call Benji over near the fire and begin to tell them of my conversation with Alys and what we must do.

“You’re just as mad as her if you think I’m coming with you.” Jace scoffs at me.

“This is our chance to try and set things right. We’re the last dragons. Mother told us of the song of ice and fire and you want to ignore that? Winter is here. She chose you as her heir for a reason. Start acting like it.” I rise along with my temper. 

“You think a story will save us now?” he tosses his head back and laughs. 

“There’s no harm in trying, we either sit here and starve to death or try to do something. We can find the other survivors, unite the realm once more. We can kill these things, brother. We can set the realm back to how it was supposed to be, together, as a family.” I plead with him trying to show him reason. 

“Do you include your stray in our family now?” he shoots Benji a dirty look. 

“My stray has a name and he has been nothing but kind to you. Why do you despise him so much?” I shake my head at his ridiculousness. 

“Because he feeds your obsession about saving the realm when it’s already a frozen wasteland beyond repair.” Jace turns to Luke for support who avoids his eyes. “Oh you believe this too?” he chuckles to himself at a loss.

“What harm will it cause to go home for one day. Remember what used to be, what could be again.” Luke speaks softly. 

“One day.” Jace says looking to me. 

“Just one.” I nod my head. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

The stone walls have never felt more cold than they do now in this abandoned castle. The wind seems to whisper as we pass through the empty halls sharing the story of our downfall. This once great castle brimming with life and happiness now offers us a cold embrace. Our dragons rumble beneath the floors from the pits and I allow myself to remember how lively these halls once were. Our home taken by fate.

“I’m going to my chambers. Let me know when you’ve found what you’re looking for so we can get off this freezing rock.” Jace bounds up the stairs out of sight. 

“Go after him.” I nod to Luke not wanting Jace to feel so alone and unheard. I sigh pulling my furs around me. Benji walks over to me and rubs his hands on my arms trying to warm me up some.

“Do you think I sound crazy, Benji?” I look to him with furrowed brows.

“We walk alongside death, Princess. I don’t think there’s anything crazy about wanting for something better.” he offers me a reassuring smile. 

“Then we must go to the pits.” I turn walking to the stairs. 

I hear him a step behind me and smile. Benji stops to light a torch for us and we enter the dark cave. I get us quickly to the bottom and we start through the small tunnels. I plunge us deeper as the air gets cooler. The torch catches on an opening showing us something dark and glossy. A smile spreads across my face as I take in the shimmering rock. 

“Dragon glass.” I turn to Benji. 

“How much does she want?” he asks looking at the massive trove in front of us.

“I’m assuming as much as us our dragons can carry.” I crane my neck to see the extent of the obsidian walls. 

“Do you think Jace will carry some?” he asks my thoughts out loud.

“I will make him. I believe in this and him. He is King even if he doesn’t speak it.” my voice hushed. “Do you think if he calls the survivors will answer?” I look to him as he looks at me with admiration. 

“Who would be bold enough not to answer the dragons call?” he chuckles. “I believe in what you say. You are a good sister, a good person, to keep faith in him when he doesn’t even have it for himself.” his words have me thanking Alys  for sending me to find those plants. 

“Thank you, Benji.” my voice barely a whisper as I look to him. 

“You are strong and resilient and any smart man knows there’s always a woman holding the realm together.” his words cause a welcome warmth to my cheeks. 

“I fear the realm has fallen apart.” I look away.

“You didn’t set that in motion. You are helping reclaim and rebuild. You will never have to carry that weight alone as long as I breathe.” my eyes see the sincerity across his features. 

“Thank you, Benji.” I cup his cheek before leading us out of the caves once more to find my brothers. 

They both groan at diving into the pits with me and Benji but follow nonetheless. Their eyes alight with wonder as they look around the obsidian cave. Jace places a hand on one of the rocks jutting from the ground and a warm breeze comes from deep within the ground. Just as quick as the warmth spreads it is replaced with ice. 

“What is it you want me to do?” Jace turns to me. 

“We need to mine as much of this as we can and bring it back with us.” I search Jaces face to see his mood. 

“This seems as if it will take more than the day I was promised.” Jace sighs. 

“We can figure it out. We can get you and Vermax loaded up first and you can go back to Harrenhal tonight if you want.” my eyes pleading. 

“I can stay and help.” a smile starts to spread across my face. “Don’t get too excited.” he glares at me and I have to bite my lip from smiling even wider. 

“Let’s go find some tools and start moving this out of the caves.” I nod my head leading us to the armory. 

As I push the doors to the armory open the castle seems to let out a breath it was holding since before this never ending winter. We all walk in and look around to find tools and carts. On the center table I spot two swords and a dagger with a parchment containing our mother’s handwriting. I call Jace and Luke over as we read her last words to us. 

My sweet children- 

Should you find this letter and our family blades it means you know what must be done now. My father always believed the song of ice and fire to be true and now I see that it is. The realms fate is left to you three. Jacaerys, I leave you Catspaw, the blade passed down to heirs over the years. Luke, my sweet boy, I leave you Blackfyre, do not allow anyone to underestimate you. Y/n, I leave you Dark Sister, that has been wielded by the strongest of us. Get the dragon glass and call the realm together. I’m sorry I’ve left this burden on you three. I love you, you were always the best of me.

-Mother

We look to each other with tear filled eyes and hold on to one another tightly. We sniffle and settle our breathing before nodding to one another. As we all grab for the blades we feel another warm breeze kiss across our faces. We turn and see Benji staring at us in awe. He shakes his head at a loss and falls to his knee. 

“The remaining dragons shall save us and cast the winter out of the realm.” he bows his head to us. 

“Rise, Benji. We have work to do.” Jace nods his head and I try to hide my smile that he called Benji by his name for the first time. 

We begin to pick up axes and shovels and toss them into carts. We make our way back down to the caves with a new sense of purpose. The next couple of hours are filled with grunts and curses at the hard rock. We take turns carting it to our dragons who look at us curiously as they curl up together. The energy we’re exuding actually has us hot for once and we take a break to walk the grounds. We end up standing in front of the weirwood as it stares back at us. The blood tears seem to still be ever flowing but less than what we’ve seen at Harrenhal. 

We decide to rest for the night and go about sourcing wood for a fire. After splitting up the frozen soup Alys sent us with we heat it over a fire in the main hall. We eat silently and quickly ready to sleep and start tomorrow anew. We each grab some wood and part ways and head for our chambers. As I’m making my way to my chambers I notice Benji is still trailing after me. 

“Where are you going?” I turn and raise an eyebrow to him. 

“To your chambers?” he tilts his head as if it was obvious. 

“I don’t remember inviting you.” I chuckle shaking my head. 

“It’s cold. We should share a bed. It’s the smart thing to do.” the smile that spreads across his face is serpentine. 

“Where is this concern when we’re at Harrenhal?” I smile before continuing down the hall to my chambers. 

“Are you asking me to move into your chambers with you?” he purrs quickening his pace to walk at my side. 

“We’ll see how tonight goes.” I hum as I push my chamber doors open and sigh at the familiar sight. 

“If there’s anything you need or want of me don’t hesitate to ask.” he says lowly before going to the stone hearth and starting a fire.

“Let’s move the mattress next to the hearth.” I toss the wood on the floor along with my bags. 

“Mm, how romantic.” he rises from the hearth and looks down to me. 

“It’s so we can be warmer.” I glare up at him. 

“I’ll keep you warm, don’t worry.” he strokes the side of my cheek before stepping around me and walking to the bed. I turn to him with red cheeks and cross my arms. “Stop pouting and come help me.” he chuckles. 

I flare my nostrils and walk over to my bed. I push my blankets and furs to the center and grab the edge of the bed to lift it. Benji lifts his side and we drop it on the ground a couple feet back from the hearth. I turn and look around my chambers taking them in. I never thought I would see these walls again. I pull Dark Sister from its sheath and place it on the table and look upon it. 

“A powerful weapon for a powerful woman.” Benji comes from behind me and looks over my shoulder. 

“I hope I’m not sending us all to our doom.” I whisper turning to him. 

“If you are, I will gladly stand by your side.” his voice doesn’t carry its usual playful demeanor. 

“Do you think we can do it?” I search his eyes. 

“I do.” he nods his head. “It will be hard but we’ve endured this far.” we slowly begin to lean into each other’s body heat. 

“Thank you for believing in me and not thinking I’m crazy.” I look up to him as our chests are almost touching. 

“I never said I didn’t think you were crazy, I said your idea wasn’t crazy.” a smile splits across his face and I push him back. 

“You’re such an asshole, you can-“ 

He pulls me into a rough kiss and I completely forget why I was angry. He pushes his tongue into my mouth and my arms wrap around his back holding him to me. One of his hands tangles into my hair holding my lips against his. His other hand holds my lower back molding me to him. We stay tangled in each other until we both pull back panting. 

“What were you saying?” he says lowly with his smirk back on his face. 

“Now I’m saying you’re an arrogant asshole and you can find somewhere else to sleep.” I glare up to him before looking at his lips and he chuckles catching the movement. 

“Want to try again and sound like you mean it?” his words taunting me. 

“Benji,” I warn huffing. 

“Hm?” he licks his lips and I roll my eyes at him brushing past him to the mattress. 

His hand reaches out and grabs my arm. He turns me towards him. I look up to him expectantly waiting for him to say or do something. I relent and start to reach up to capture his lips once more, over his games and he tips his head up making me chase his lips out of my reach. 

“I didn’t take you as such a tease. Or maybe you can’t get it hard?” I try to pull my arm out of his grasp but he just tightens his fingers. 

When he captures my lips this time it’s bruising and takes my breath away. His hands begin to pull off my clothes. When his rough hands meet my flesh I gasp into his mouth. I start to push off his clothes and he helps quicken the process. When our skin presses together I sigh at the warmth. We don’t separate as we fall to the mattress in a clash of tongues and teeth. He kisses down my jaw and I arch up into him gasping as I feel his hardened length slide against my wetness. 

“Benji,” I mewl as he rubs against my bud. 

“Hush,” he says before pushing into me. 

My breath catches at the stretch of him. He chuckles looking at my scrunched brows as I squirm beneath him. He slowly starts to rock into me until my moans become broken. His hips snap into mine and I feel my pleasure begin to coil. As he wraps my legs around his waist he starts a brutal pace. I throw my head back into the pillow as my hips meet his. I come undone around him and he grunts but keeps his pace. 

“Is my cock hard enough for you, Princess?” he dips down to whisper in my ear as he continues to rut into me. 

“Yes, Benji please,” I cry out feeling my high quickly approaching again. 

Our breaths come out in pants as we chase our highs. He rolls his hips into me and I whimper as he brushes against my sensitive bud. His trusts begin to falter as I start to pulse around him. He stills as I feel his warmth fill me. He brings his lips to mine as we still try to catch our breath. He rolls off of me placing one more kiss on my forehead. He pulls the furs over us and pulls me to his chest. 

“Do you still think I’m an asshole?” I roll my eyes and turn over putting my back to him. 

“I must’ve not fucked you hard enough if you’re still pouting.” he pulls me back to his chest. 

“I’m limited on options.” as the words leave my mouth his hand lands on my backside hard making me jolt into him. 

“Go to bed before I decide you don’t need any sleep.” his voice low as we hold each other tightly to ward off the cold.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Over the past three days we’ve been able to collect as much dragon glass as our dragons can carry. I’m thankful to finally get back to Harrenhal because we’re low on food and supplies. As we make our way to our dragons my brother and I look back at our home. None of us are brave enough to say goodbye or even to express hope to return again someday. We know the path ahead now is victory or peril. 

The flight back to Harrenhal feels as if it takes forever. Once we land Alys sweeps out through the main gates and looks us all over. She assesses the dragon glass and nods in approval at the amount we got. She ushers us inside and pours us tea and hot soup. 

“I’ve begun sending word around the realm that their King calls for them.” she says this as if it’s just another daily task. 

“Alys,” Jace sighs. “What was the message? We should’ve planned this together.” he shakes his head. 

“This has been planned long before you were born, boy. I’ve been waiting for you to stop throwing your tantrums to start moving the plans into place.” Alys turns to him with a motherly tone. 

“And where are you calling these survivors to rally?” Jace sets his spoon down completely abandoning his soup. 

“Winterfell, of course.” Alys tosses over her shoulder before returning to her poultices.

“Are there any survivors that far north?” Luke asks shaking his head.

“The one who carries Ice still lives.” she doesn’t even deign to turn around.

“How is it that you know all this? The ravens don’t carry messages anymore.” I ask my eyes boring into her back.

“There’s another raven that still carries messages if you know how to listen. The trees whisper too, I’m surprised you haven’t heard them.” she hums absentmindedly. 

“I need proof that there is reason for us to pack up and go north. The winds are surely deadly that far up.” Jace takes a sip of tea.

“Then follow me.” Alys’ skirts swish out of the hall and we all get up and trail after her. She takes us out to the Godswood and we stand in front of the crying weirwood. “Do any other of you have a lack of faith in the song of ice and fire?” she turns and assesses us. 

I turn to look at Luke and Benji and they both seem contented that the song is absolute certainty. We all turn to Jace who has a pout back on his face still not convinced. Alys smiles and gestures for him to come closer. She reaches for his hand and he reluctantly gives it to her. When she places his hand on the tree it feels as if the sun is shining on us for the first time in moons. When I look up I still see the same overcast sky and sigh.

Jace has gone completely still as the blood flows over his hands. His eyes are watering as his features go blank. He doesn’t seem to be in any pain but I’m still concerned for him nonetheless. I go to rest my hand on him and Alys stops me. 

“Do not interrupt this. He’ll be fine.” she whispers and I step back to Benji and Luke. 

Luke clings to me as we wait for Jace to come back to the present. The minutes drag on for what feels like hours. Benji comes to my other side and rests his head on my shoulder and I drink in his warmth. We huddle together and our spines straighten as Jace inhales deeply.

“It’s true.” he turns to us with tears streaming down his face as he pulls us into a hug. 

“What happened?” I pull back so I can assess him.

“I saw.” his voice still far off. “I saw everything.” he pulls Catspaw from his belt and holds it between us. 

“To Winterfell?” I search his eyes.

“To Winterfell.” Jace nods and walks past us back into the crumbling castle with a new found sense of purpose.

“What of you, Alys?” I turn to her and she smiles. 

“I will be there should you need me.” she hums walking past us into the castle after Jace.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

We stop every night on the way to Winterfell. Our dragons can only handle the chill for so long. We have them scorch the lands around us encircling us in a wall of flame. We are hoping to see some of the survivors Alys has talked about but the road has been silent. We curl up on the frozen ground clinging to one another for warmth. Sleep only offers us a reprieve for a couple of hours before we’re back in the wind. 

“How much longer?” Luke whines as he hugs onto Arrax. 

“If we push through we could make it a couple hours after moonrise.” Jace hums trying to see how we feel. 

“We can load up on furs. If Arrax can support him I’ll send Benji with you to help keep the chill off.” I nod trying to get us to Winterfell as soon as possible. I don’t know if we can survive another night outside in these temperatures, no matter how much fire our dragons supply. 

“You don’t have to baby me, Y/n.” Luke groans rolling his eyes at me. 

“You are a baby, Luke.” Jace laughs and I look to him with a smile of my own. I haven’t heard his genuine laugh in so long.

We decide on giving Luke as many of our furs that he could wear and still see. Arrax didn’t take too kindly to Benji and we didn’t want to stress anyone out. I give him more furs than Jace because I’ll have Benji behind me to help retain my heat. We mount the dragons and push forward to Winterfell. 

As the sun sets behind the clouds the temperature drops almost instantly. My muscles tense as I lean back into Benji. He opens his jacket and pulls me against his chest. He buries his head into my neck and I feel my body heat as his hair tickles me. He offers soft kisses to my neck that help distract me as the wind bites. 

As the hours drag by my body begins to shake trying to make its own heat. I look worriedly to my brothers who are probably in the same state and they don’t have someone to offer them extra warmth. I bury my head in my hands trying to regain feeling on my cheeks and nose. 

“We’re about an hour out. Once we’re in our chambers I’ll make sure you’re so hot you’ll be begging to go roll in the snow.” his words brush my ears and my entire body heats. I lean back appreciatively and excited about the warmth he’s offering. 

I fill my mind with thoughts of the man behind me and soon the blush on my face is heating my extremities. His arms wrap tighter around me as if he’s doing the same thing. Our bodies mend together pulling heat from one another. The walls of Winterfell finally come into view and I let out a choked sob. I see there are torches lit and it looks as if the integrity of this castle has still remained intact. Our dragons land inside the gates and burn the ground before us and I sigh in relief at the warmth as it licks at us.

“Welcome back, Your Grace.” a northern man with a large sword down his back approaches us.

“Lord Stark.” Jace nods his head before they laugh and hug each other.

“I’mglad that you guys are reunited but I would like to be reunited with warmth.” I say with a bite in my voice as Benji laughs next to me.

“Of course,” Cregan nods his head and we enter the warm halls quickly. 

“How is this the warmest place we’ve been in moons?” I sigh bringing my hands to the fire. 

“It was built to withstand the winter. After all, it’s always winter up here, Princess.” Cregan smiles to me. “We also have hot springs that should help you defrost and if that doesn’t help I’m sure we could find another way.” he chuckles as my red cheeks and Benji comes up to my side promptly. 

“We would love to try the hot springs.” Benji smiles to Cregan before wrapping his arm around me. Cregan brushes this off and walks back over to Jace and Luke. He leads us to the guest chambers. Benji tells him that he’s sharing with me and I roll my eyes at his dramatics. 

“Then I guess I won’t offer you a place in my chambers.” Cregan leans down and whispers into my ear. As he pulls back my cheeks are tinted and Benji is fuming next to me. “Someone will be up here shortly to bring you to the hot springs.” he smirks at me before shutting the door.

“Are you serious?” Benji turns me towards him.

“What?” I tilt my head still flushed from Cregans words.

“You’re lucky I didn’t take you in front of him.” he growls pulling me to him. 

“Benji,” I gasp as he starts pulling my furs off. “It was harmless.” he starts to pull off my shirt and I bite my lip as his hands find my skin.

“Harmless? He all but asked you to fuck in front of me.” he says through his teeth as he lifts my shirt off. 

“He did not.” I say hushed as his hands slide up my bare skin.

“What did he say that had you blushing?” he fingers brush against my nipples and a whimper falls from my mouth.

“He said,” I gasp as he pinches one of my nipples. “He said he was going to offer me a place in his chambers.” my hands rest on his arms as he continues to fondle across my chest.

“Is that what you want?” I shake my head at his words. “Tell me whose bed you want to be in.” his voice low as his hand dips beneath my waistband. 

“Benji,” I cling to him as his fingers spread my wetness. 

“Go find a robe.” I whine as he removes his hand. “Someone should be here to bring us to the hot springs soon.” he leaves me squeezing my thighs together. 

I huff and walk over to the wardrobe hoping there was something left. I sigh thankful that there are some robes left over. I slide my trousers down my legs and quickly wrap myself in the robe. I turn and toss Benji a robe and try not to let my eyes linger on his exposed torso. He starts to unlace his trousers and I look to him with low lids as he chuckles at me. He slides them off and I squeeze my thighs once more taking in the length of him. There’s a knock on the door and Benji is quickly slipping the robe on and walking to the door. 

“It seems as if I’m the only one left awake to take you both.” Cregan takes up our doorway and I internally groan. 

“Mm, of course.” Benji exhales grabbing my hand and pulling me to his side. 

The walk through the castle is silent and I can feel Benjis frustration pouring off of him. I squeeze his hand to try and get him to focus on anything else but he keeps his eyes focused on Cregans back. We start down a stone staircase and as we enter the cavern I sigh as the warm air kisses my face. I see that there’s more than enough space for the three of us to be here comfortably. I walk past them both and begin to dip into the water. Once my bottom half is in the water I slip off my robe and sink beneath and let out a breathy moan. 

I close my eyes as I let the hot water soothe my muscles. I sink lower into the water and I feel it ripple next to me. I peek an eye open and see that Benji has claimed a seat next to me. The water shifts again and I see that Cregan has also gotten in. I sit back up and feel the tension in the water and roll my eyes. Benjis hand falls to my thigh and my head snaps to him. 

“So are you guys together?” Cregans voice carries across the stone walls and I groan knowing this will set Benji off.

“Yes.” he says as his fingers grip on my thigh spreading them open. 

“Mm, how long?” Cregan looks to me as Benjis fingers slide to my core.

“Couple moons now.” I try to keep my voice steady as he swirls around my bud. 

“Where did you find her?” Cregan shifts to Benji and I’ve never been more thankful as he dips a finger into me. 

“Near the Iron Islands. I saved her and Jace from some Bracken beasts.” Benji narrows his eyes at Cregan as he pushes a second finger into me and a moan slips out. I try to cover it by clearing my throat but I can tell Cregan caught it. 

“Do you both need some privacy?” Cregan chuckles at my red cheeks and Benji keeps pushing his fingers into me. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” Benji uses a patronizing tone. “She’s been begging for my cock since we started the journey here.” he chuckles and I snap my head to him ready to scold him until his thumb rubs against my bud and I’m hoping that Cregan will leave soon because I can’t contain the whimpers leaving my lips. 

“Treat her well. Or I will.” Cregan chuckles again before standing out of the water unabashed. Benji starts moving his fingers faster and I try to close my legs around his hand. 

“Benji.” I mewl as he continues with his motions.

“She’s content here.” Benji chuckles waving Cregan off. 

“Are you done now?” I pant at Benji.

“Not even close.” he growls as he flips me so my chest is against the cool stone. “Gunna fuck you here because I know he’s listening on the stairs.” he breathes into my neck as he lifts my hips.

“You sound paranoid.” I turn to look at his dark eyes as I spread my legs open for him. 

“I don’t care.” he pushes into me in one movement and I rest my cheek against the stone. 

Moans begin pouring from my lips as the water laps against us. His pace is quick and I have no hope of covering the curses and whines that fall from my mouth. The second his fingers brush against my bud my body goes taught. He continues to push into me as my high spreads through me. My hips push back into his as I continue to chase more pleasure.

“You like when I fuck you like a common whore?” he pulls me up against him and wraps his fingers around my neck.

“Fuck, Benji, please,” I whine as my chest heaves. 

The hand that he has supporting my waist goes to my bud and I contract around him as my pleasure washes through me. I feel his thrusts get sloppy as he begins to fill me. He slips out of me quickly pulling a moan from my lips. I brace my hands on the stone as I catch my breath. 

“When you’re ready we’re going back up to our chambers and I’m gunna fuck you until he knows you’re mine.” he sits back and I nod to him with flushed cheeks.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It’s been almost a moon since we’ve landed in Winterfell and the amount of survivors showing up is astonishing. We have a large camp circled around the walls that grow larger by the day. As more people arrive we give them dragon glass to shape into weapons of their choice. We’ve had confirmation dragon glass works on the white walkers and everyone seems relieved to have finally confirmed this theory. 

“When do we march north? Or are we staying here? What is the plan?” I look to Jace as I sprawl across his couch. Benji and Luke are sat at the table and look to Jace ready for his commands. 

“We fight here. He will come to us in the end.” Jace nods and goes to look out the window at the growing host around us. 

“Who will come?” Luke asks nibbling his lip.

“The night King. We kill him and this ends. We go home.” his voice seems far away and we look to each other with confused brows.

“You’re starting to sound like Alys, brother.” I chuckle and he turns to me with a smile. 

“Surprisingly, I don’t take offense.” he smiles sitting on a chair across from me. “I saw him beginning to march here. He has a large host of white walkers with him that he has no care if they live or die. We’re fighting for something. We have a reason and purpose. Fate is on our side. He will be here during the hour of the wolf.” he turns to look at Luke and Benji. 

“Tonight?” Benji asks taken aback.

“Yes, so get some rest. We either come out victorious or die.” Jace rises nodding to us. 

Benji, Luke, and I leave Jaces chambers to go and find a couple hours of sleep. We drop Luke off at his chambers and I hug him tightly and kiss his head. We make our way back to our chambers and collapse to the bed. We simply hold each other and curl up under the covers basking in each other’s warmth.

I sit up in bed as a loud horn is blown. Benji is looking out the window and I rise and go to his side. The castle seems to be surrounded by flame as I see a white mass headed for us. I turn back to the chambers trying to wake myself up quicker. I start to pull on my armor and sheath Dark Sister at my side. I turn back to Benji who is holding his hand out to me. 

“Are you ready?” I ask him slipping my hand into his. 

“I am. With the three dragons burning from above we will be able to be victorious on the ground.” he nods to me. We make our way to the main hall and see the remaining leaders gathered. On approach I see Alys coming out of a dark hall.

“What are you doing here?” I look to her confused.

“Making sure you both were awake for this war. They need you.” she nods us over to the conversation being held. 

“My siblings and I will be in the skies burning as many as we can without burning our own men. This is our last stand. We have all of the tools we need to succeed. It’s now or never. May the Gods choose our side.” Jaces voices carries throughout the hall and I tear up hearing him speak so confidently.

“A word sister?” Jace nods his head to the corner where Luke is waiting for us. “I wanted to tell you what I saw when I touched that tree. I saw us all here. Making the prophecy come true. Everything we have done has led us right here. We can reclaim this realm and break it free from the icy grasp of the Gods. It will be a new age for us. These men and women believe in us and will follow us even to their death.” his words cause my heart to tighten knowing no matter how much dragon flame and glass we use we will still suffer losses. 

“I will follow you even if it means my death, my King.” I lower my head and I see Luke do the same at my side.

“You both will live. I can’t do this without you. Together we will revive the Golden Age.” his words capture my breath. 

We all embrace and begin to walk out of the hall. Benji returns to my side and walks with us to our dragons. I make sure he’s armed with as many dragon glass weapons as his person can carry. I look up to him unable to help the worry written across my face. He smoothes my brow before placing his lips softly on mine. 

“If you die tonight, I won’t let them burn you. I’ll keep you as my white walker pet or something.” I pull back and look to him with furrowed brows and he barks out a laugh.

“I’ll try my best to stay alive.” he smiles down at me. “But it seems as if I’ll see you after regardless.” he kisses me once more and disappears into the sea of men and women. 

I sigh and turn to my dragon and see my brothers also talking to their dragons. I hug around my dragons neck and he lets out soft chuffs. Jace looks to Luke and nods and offers me the same motion. I begin to mount and once I’m settled and clipped into my saddle I turn back to my brothers once more. Jace and Vermax shoot into the sky and his dragon alights the sky with dragon flame. Luke and I fly up in unison our dragons spitting flame and washing the world in red for a couple moments. 

Our dragons cry out and we dip down aiming for the approaching white hoard. We all separate and bathe the undead in a fiery bath. A horn is heard from behind us and we hear the war cries from our host as they clash with the dead. A cool wind sweeps down from the north and I gasp as the world is cast in a blizzard. Our dragons cry out at being blinded and spit fire around the skies hoping to find a break. 

My heart beats wildly as my dragon and I try to find our way to the ground. He dives down spraying flame to clear our path and once we land we’re engulfed in flame as Luke lands next to me. White walkers approach us an instant later and our dragons call out as we’re surrounded. Luke and I dismount and pull our blades. There’s no time for hesitation as we begin swinging. Where our blade lands death follows and our dragons finish them with flame. I risk a glance into the skies for Jace and shake my head as I see nothing.

This has to work. It couldn’t have all been for nothing. All of the death and loss had to have meant something. My emotions pour into Dark Sister as I begin to court death. I hear Lukes grunts from a couple feet away as he’s engaged in a dance with two white walkers. I gape as he cuts them both down and doesn’t falter before he moves to the next. Pride surges in my chest as I focus on the walkers in front of me. As I swing my blade the blizzard begins to let up and I can finally see the host around us and see we’re not too far from the walls. 

The sun begins to rise washing the word in the normal gray as we continue to fight. I take small glances at the force around us and allow myself to smile as I see that a majority of us are still standing. I push off the walkers and run to Luke. 

“Mount Arrax and find Jace and then come and get me.” I take over the walkers he was dealing with as he shoots to the sky. I watch him fly north and turn my focus back in front of me. My dragon picks off the walkers that try to get to me when I’m further engaged. Arrax gives out a cry above me and I’m quickly mounting and flying after him. I follow him to the weirwood inside the walls and land running to the tree. There I spot Jace standing in front of a man made of ice. This clearly has to be the night King. 

“Jace,” I breathe out as I see the two Kings standing off. 

Jace lunges and their bodies are too close together to see what’s happening. Luke and I stand there frozen not knowing what to do. I hear a blade cut against flesh and I gasp. Jace staggers back hand still wrapped around Catspaw that is sticking out of the Kings chest. He twists and pulls it out swiftly and the King falls to the ground. Jace turns to us, blade in hand, and the sun begins to break through the clouds. It casts across Jaces face and the weirwood behind him. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It’s been six moons since the sun shone upon our faces again. The losses the realm endured were too many to count. Rebuilding has taken time and will take longer than our own lives allow. Jacaerys was coronated in Winterfell before we flew to Kings Landing to see what remained. We all have been slowly healing and moving forward. Today in the peak of summer as the sun is its highest Jacaerys will be coronated again before the masses in Kings Landing. 

The remaining Lords and Ladies of the realm stand on the dais beside us as a crown is placed on his brow by the new High Septon. This crown has been forged with dragon glass and valyrian steel and named after him as the Reclaimer. Jace smiles and nods to us before he turns to the crowd and they erupt in cheers. 

“Jacaerys Targaryen, First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, the Reclaimer.” the High Septons voice reverberates off of the walls of the dragon pit as the crowd continues to cheer.

“I told you that the dragons would be able to reclaim the realm. I always believed in this outcome.” Benji whispers in my ear and I turn to him with a wide smile. 

“Stay here with us.” I look up to him with pleading eyes. “With me.” my voice soft.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you.” he dips down and places o kiss on my forehead.

“I should hope not or I would have to marry Cregan.” I smile up to him.

“Do not start.” his voice low as he pulls me against him before he pulls us off of the dais and he’s leading us into a carriage back to the Keep.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌

this literally took over my mind for the past couple of days fr

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @p45510n4f4shi0n @anaviieiraaa @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang

[raspberryslxt]

Carl Grimes x Negan’s daughter!reader

-

warnings:none

-

The world had become a desolate wasteland, overrun by the undead and ruled by fear. Amidst the chaos, Carl Grimes found himself face to face with an unexpected ally – y/n, the daughter of the notorious Negan.

Carl cautiously approached the abandoned warehouse, his senses on high alert. He had heard rumors of survivors in the area, but he never expected to encounter Negan's daughter.

Y/n emerged from the shadows, her presence commanding attention as she leveled a gaze at Carl. "What do you want?" she demanded, her voice tinged with suspicion.

Carl raised his hands in a gesture of peace, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger. "I'm just looking for supplies," he replied, keeping his tone neutral. "I mean no harm."

Y/n studied Carl for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Fine," she finally said, stepping aside to let him pass. "But watch your back. This world is unforgiving."

As they ventured deeper into the warehouse, Carl and y/n exchanged cautious glances, their guard never faltering. Despite the tension between them, Carl couldn't help but admire y/n resilience in the face of adversity.

"Your father... Negan," Carl began tentatively, breaking the uneasy silence. "What's he like?"

Y/n’s jaw tightened at the mention of her father, a shadow passing over her features. "He's... complicated," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But he's not all bad."

„He killed my friends,” the bot said. Y/n looked at him with a „really dude” look.

Carl nodded, understanding the complexities of family loyalty all too well. "I get it," he said softly. "We all have people we care about, even if they've done things we don't agree with."

As they scoured the warehouse for supplies, Carl and y/n found themselves opening up to each other in ways they never expected. They shared stories of their pasts, their hopes and fears laid bare in the harsh light of reality.

Hours turned into days, and Carl and y/n formed an unlikely bond as they navigated the dangers of the wasteland together. They fought off hordes of walkers, braved the elements, and relied on each other for survival in a world where trust was a rare commodity.

But their newfound partnership was put to the test when a group of hostile survivors threatened their sanctuary. Carl and y/n stood side by side, their weapons drawn as they prepared to defend their makeshift home.

"We can't let them win," y/n said, her voice steely with determination.

Carl nodded, his gaze unwavering as he met y/n’s eyes. "We won't," he vowed, a sense of urgency coursing through his veins.

As the enemy closed in, Carl and Y/n fought with a fierce intensity, their movements synchronized as they battled against overwhelming odds. In the heat of the moment, Carl found himself relying on y/n’s strength and agility, trusting her with his life in ways he never thought possible.

When the dust finally settled, Carl and y/n stood victorious, their chests heaving with exertion as they surveyed the aftermath of the battle. Despite the chaos and destruction surrounding them, they knew that as long as they had each other, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Y/n turned to Carl, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thanks," she said softly, her eyes betraying a vulnerability she rarely showed.

Carl returned her smile, a sense of warmth flooding his chest. "Anytime," he replied, his voice tinged with sincerity.

As they stood together in the fading light of the setting sun, Carl and y/n knew that they had found redemption in each other's company – two souls bound by the shadows of their pasts, yet united in their quest for a brighter future. And in a world consumed by darkness, that was enough to give them hope.

[novaursa]

I am so happy that your requests are open. Could you please write one story of Thorren Stark and Targaryen reader. They could be married, but the northern people don't like her too much because they regard her as a foreigner. Once she helps them fight off white walkers both on the ground and with dragon, they start to respect her and tell stories how a fierce warrior she is.

Blood of Fire

Requests are closed!

- Summary: The North was reluctant to warm the dragon with its snows, but then you earned your place as a warrior and as the Lady of the Winterfell.

- Paring: targ!reader/Torrhen Stark

- Note: I had to leave out the dragon-thing, since by lore they can't/refuse (to) go beyond the Wall.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The chill of the North seeps into your bones as you step into the courtyard of Winterfell, where the stares of the Northmen burn hotter than any fire. They watch you like a hawk watches a snake, wary, untrusting. Targaryen. They do not say it to your face, but the word lingers in the air, an unspoken reminder that you are not one of them. You are a dragon, and dragons do not belong in the North.

Your husband, Torrhen Stark, has done his part to protect you, declaring you Lady of Winterfell, but even his word does little to thaw the cold glances. To them, you are still an outsider, a conqueror's sister, someone who could burn their land to ashes with a single command. They see your silver hair, the warmth of fire in your eyes, and they remember what your kind can do.

Even your dragon, a magnificent beast you’ve ridden since your youth, refuses the North's harsh clime. He is restless in Winterfell, his roars echoing across the castle walls, but he will not venture beyond the Wall. The great frozen barrier repels him, as if some ancient magic keeps him from passing. And so, when Torrhen announces an expedition beyond the Wall, you make the choice that stirs whispers amongst his bannermen: you will go, but without your dragon.

They expect you to fail. To be cold, weak, lost. But you will prove them wrong.

The wind howls like a wounded beast as you cross the Wall. The cold is sharper here, biting into your skin despite the furs wrapped around your body. Torrhen rides beside you, his grey eyes glancing at you with the quiet understanding that comes from being your husband and your shield. His bannermen are less subtle in their distrust. They keep their distance, speaking in low voices, their eyes lingering on your Valyrian steel sword, Darksong, its black blade glistening in the weak northern sunlight.

The journey is treacherous, but it is not the wildlings that concern you. You sense something else in the air, something ancient and malevolent. The Night’s Watch rangers, seasoned men who’ve spent their lives guarding the realms of men, speak of whispers in the wind, of shadows moving in the far distance. You know better than to dismiss such tales.

One evening, as the sun sinks behind the horizon, casting long shadows over the frozen wasteland, you hear it—the cracking of ice, followed by an eerie silence. Torrhen’s bannermen fall still, their hands going to their swords. You step forward, your breath visible in the frigid air, and that’s when they appear.

The Others.

They emerge from the darkness like ghosts, their bodies as pale as the ice beneath your feet, their eyes glowing with an unnatural blue. Fear ripples through the men, but not you. You draw Darksong, its black steel seeming to absorb the light around it, and the cold no longer feels so bitter.

They move swiftly, faster than any man, but you are faster still. One of the Others lunges at you, its icy sword raised, but you parry it with Darksong, the clash of steel against ice ringing out in the frozen air. The men of the North watch as you fight—not as a queen or a lady—but as a warrior. Each strike of your blade is precise, lethal, and when you drive Darksong into the chest of one of the creatures, it shatters like fragile glass, breaking into shards of ice that melt away in the snow.

For a moment, the world is still. The remaining Others hesitate, their blue eyes flickering as if they can sense the power of your blade. One by one, you cut them down, their bodies collapsing into nothingness, the air growing warmer with each one that falls.

The men who once doubted you now stand silent, their swords lowered, their eyes wide with disbelief. Torrhen steps forward, his hand resting on your shoulder, his touch warm despite the cold.

“You saved us,” one of his bannermen mutters, his voice filled with awe.

“She killed them,” another whispers, as if he cannot believe what he has seen.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, the weight of your sword heavy in your hand, but you do not falter. You meet their gazes, one by one, the mistrust in their eyes replaced with something new—respect.

Perhaps the North will never fully accept you. Perhaps they will always see the dragon in your blood, the fire in your veins. But on this day, beyond the Wall, you are not just the sister of Aegon the Conqueror. You are the Lady of Winterfell, a Stark in every way that matters.

Torrhen smiles at you, his grip firm on your arm as the wind howls once more.

“You have shown them who you are,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your cold skin.

You sheathe Darksong and look out into the frozen wasteland, where the corpses of the Others melt into the snow. You have faced the darkness beyond the Wall and emerged victorious. And in the eyes of the Northmen, you are no longer just a Targaryen.

You are their Lady.

The dragon may have stayed behind, but in the North, you have forged a new legend. One of ice, fire, and steel.

[macabrecabra]

The god of cold, the death-walker of the frozen north, the white silence that brings the unending of the unending winter, the great old one Ithaqua wanders always in search of food. The spread of modern man has made such hunts easier and the pickings having such a satisfying crunch to get to the meat within...

_______________

Started this before Mermay started and wanted to finish before I do a mer or two before the month is up!

There was a spurt of reblogs of my Ithaqua concept art and had an intch to draw the frozen wasteland great old one! So enjoy the blizzard floof!

[elistilldoodles]

[sparklingmineraltequila]

American Wasteland

Note: I don't think Rust is a big fan of getting head cause I think that it's much more aligned to Marty's character. However, I think it fits all too well with Crash era Rust so this is me trying to reconcile the two. I also don't think my Philosophy teacher would be too overjoyed knowing I'm using what she taught me to write foreplay but at least it stuck.

Warnings: 18+, violence, drugs, alcohol, reference to sex work, implied past abuse, rough sex both past and present

There are a lot of ways that you can get fucked up by a liquor bottle. Rust knows this. But mainly, there are two ways. The first is the classic act of getting drunk out of your mind: the type of drunk that can only end in violence. Rust doesn't always need to gulp down a bottle of Jameson, straight and hard, to feel the acrid burn of repulsion and vomit in his stomach. Sometimes, the slow sipping of a 12 pack of Bud or Lone Star is preferred on days where he's more lucid, has more of that sickening desire to punish himself with Sofia's face and blood and gurgling cough. Tearing that beer can and slicing at his skin might be a more effective, visceral act of punishment, but it's too quick. No, he brought her into this meat grinder of a world, he should feel that same machinery gnashing away at his being before he is allowed to slide into the stagnation that the piss warm beer allows him. Then, you have the far more crude way to fuck someone up; the jagged edge of smashed glass will do that just fine. Quick, cuts easy into the supple flesh of the cheek and makes a hell of a show. As he glances over the bottles of whiskey, Cassandra lets out a low whistle,

'Johnnie Walker Blue Label. This was the shit my dad used to blow rent on. You'd think for such a piece of shit loser, the man would've had cheaper taste,' and Rust can see a faint lacquer in her eyes, the impenetrable kind making her relive those scenes of her slurring daddy with a heavy set jaw and even heavier hands, the musk of her own fetid sweat mixed with talcum powder on her t-shirt in a pathetic, 8 year old's attempt to get the smell out, the hum of a refrigerator while a little girl cries at the kitchen table cause she doesn't get to feel safe around daddy. Hard to reconcile that image with the 20 year old in a white cotton sundress that ends too soon and is cut too low; the blueish lighting giving her skin a cool sheen. Cassandra puts the bottle back and walks over to where Rust is slotting his usual Jameson under his arm as he picks up a second bottle. From his crouching position, he can see the delicate purple hue on her thighs, arranged in the pattern of his fingerprints. A sickening sense of pride settles itself next to the self-disgust in Rust's gut at the marks and the satisfaction with which Cassandra is looking at them.

'Roughed you up pretty good, huh?' Rust says, gruffly. Cassandra glances over a delicate shoulder from where she's inspecting the Bourbon shelf,

'They hurt.'

'Bullshit, baby. You think I didn't see you were tracin' 'em in the truck, on the way here.'

'Doesn't mean they don't hurt.'

'True,' Rust stands to his full height, 'but d'you know what it does mean?'

'What?' she turns to face him.

He walks over to her, giving her cheek a couple, little pats his fingers, 'That you liked it.' Cassandra gives a derisive scoff but not one that can hide that glint in her eye: relief. Not just that Rust has indulged her infatuation, fucking her into the mattress until she forgot how to say 'Crash', but the protection that those bruises afford; the bruises of a young girl turned woman, bruises who's shade of blue show that the man who gave them is a tough son of a bitch.

'I hate it when you do that,' Cassandra states, somewhat petulantly.

'Do what? Point out that you can't do one over me?'

'No,' she says, narrowing her eyes, 'When you slap me around like that. I feel dumb.'

'That ain't slappin' around, trust me. And you ain't dumb, that's for sure, Cass,' Rust huffs, looping the plastic casing of a Lone Star six-pack through his fingers, 'But you shouldn't look to me to affirm that for you.'

'I don't need you to affirm shit for me.'

'Good, cause I ain't got the fuckin' time or will for that, too. Pick up your head, Cassandra. Stop fuckin' poutin',' Rust's tone is sharp. Cassandra rolls her eyes but she struts behind him, following him to the cashier. As Rust waits in line behind some trucker, Cassandra scuffs her boots against the floor, pulling her gum taught over her tongue until to snaps.

'You snap your gum,' Rust states. Cassandra looks up at him from where she was analysing the snake skin on the point of her boot,

'Huh?'

'You don't blow bubbles, you snap your gum.'

'I ain't gonna give the men 'round here the whole school girl routine. Fuck that,' she scowls. The corner of Rust's mouth twitches slightly at her sharpness; that guile about her never fails to dump buckets of ice cold water over his perception. His smart, smart girl, knowing that a quick, hard fix of money isn't shit next to the promise of survival that grit can give. Leave the milk boxes and cotton socks to the little girls, you're a woman now. It takes a certain intelligence to be sexy, to bear the soft, supple skin of ass, tits and thigh in a delicate veil of lace, and to still keep the wolves at an arm's length. Give them the scent of your blood, hot and throbbing, let them believe that the practiced gasps and rolling neck are just for them, but don't let them tear your skin. The wolves are ravenous in this wasteland, they get a taste for blood and they will gut you from the inside out.

Rust pays, ignoring the cashier's mild look of disapproval or envy at how Cassandra comes to stand next to him. She watches as the bottles get bagged up and Rust turns to leave. She gestures to him as they walk out, her boots clacking on the baked asphalt like one of those old, clunking clocks,

'Let me carry one.'

Rust barely spares her a glance, 'You're underaged. Shouldn't be drinking.' That almost makes her laugh,

'You're fucking kidding, right? I'm a stripper. You remember that, Crash?'

'You're also in college. Need to stay sharp, baby.'

'It's a Friday,' her tone dry, 'Plus, you're always offering me beers.'

'No,' Rust corrects, 'You take my beers and I let you get away with it.'

Cassandra rolls her eyes as they climb into their respective sides of his truck and Rust would be lying if he didn't feel the twist in his stomach at the practiced ease of the act, the facility of their place in the other's space. Rust starts the ignition,

'Stop rollin' those eyes at me.'

'Fuck off, Crash,' she retorts, only slightly annoyed and Rust just hums,

'You're real fuckin' cocky for someone who's in my hands about how many times they get to come, tonight.'

Cassandra almost opens her mouth before clamping it shut, making a big show out of rolling down the window. Smart move, baby, Rust thinks. A sentiment that holds up, after he bends her over the sink, bunching her dress over her hips; gripping her hair, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror as she takes him deep and hard. What Cassandra doesn't know is that the mirror is almost more for Rust's reflection than it is for hers. Forcing himself to look into his own glacial blue eyes, this way he can't indulge in the complete bliss of Cassandra's wet, tightness. No, if he's going to allow himself this then he's going to be fucking straight about it: he's a coked up, undercover narco currently using some vulnerable 20 year old girl who has no clue who he actually is. Rust wishes that the reason he's fucking her so hard, scraping his nails on her scalp, is that he hates her, sees her like one of the hookers that the Iron Crusaders systematically violate; it would make this shit a lot easier. But he doesn't and it's not. Rust is past indulging delusions for the sake of comfort. It was Nietzsche's idea, if he can remember correctly: embrace the pure fucking horror of eternal return, this ontological prison we're all stuck in, and you might finally find some enlightenment amongst the squalor.

'Put your leg up. Let me see those bruises,' he grits out, hand clamping onto her thigh in an attempt to lift to up.

'No-fuck-I won't be able to hold it up,' Cassandra stammers out, knuckles white as a scar on the ceramic rim of the sink out of exertion of holding herself in place when Rust shoves her forward with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips.

'Tsk, wrong answer, baby,' Rust says, shoving her leg up and bending it at the knee so that it rests in the sink bowl. The new position opens her up, not only showing the patterns of bruising on her inner thighs but the glistening wetness of her seam as he pushes into her again. The mixture of the two is a lurid depiction of what sex is around here; its inextricable connection to violence. Like meat and salt. The drop of thin, clear arousal now running down Cassandra's leg, the cracked scabs on his knuckles from a bar fight, the clunking rumble of the AC boxes outside the trailer: blood, sex and heat. Rust reaches a hand down and gathers the drop of wetness on his fingers, he brings it to his mouth and tastes it. Cassandra looks like she wants to cry as he catches her eye in the mirror.

'What's that face for, baby? Ain't never had a man taste you before?' Rust's voice thick from exertion and desire, her tartness covering his tongue.

'That's a really fucking intimate thing to do,' she says and poor baby sounds like she might either sob or come.

'No, it ain't, Rust lands a heavy slap on the bruises, as if to reprimand her for the implication, 'It's how a man fucks a woman.'

'So, I'm a woman to you now?'

'I don't fuck little girls, so yeah,' Rust says, his hand in her hair coming down to grip her throat. That's the one small mercy of innocence, Rust thinks, it can only be corrupted once. He yanks her head up by the chin,

'Look at yourself real good, Cass. This what you want? Some doped up biker with a load on, fucking you, leaving you all roughed up-Look at me, Cassandra,' he snarls, his tone harsh to conceal the begging behind it,

'Yes! Fuck, yes I do!,' she cries out, her adamance mixed with the first tremors of her impending orgasm. Rust lets out a growl, something deep and atavistic, as he yanks up her knee to bend her leg around his hips, now obscenely deep. Cassandra is now halfway slumped against the skin, the cold metal of the tap pressing into her sternum. This shit is good, too good, like the cool bliss of the moment the heroin hits your bloodstream and everything feels fucking pure. He pulls out as her feels her begin to pulsate around him and she cries out. Good, Rust thinks, wanting to punish her for being so goddamn complacent, Get used to crying if you want to fuck around with this shit, baby. He manhandles her to her knees as the muscle in his jaw twitches at what he's about to say to her,

'You want it that bad? Show me,' Rust deadpans, hand twisting into the dark mass of Cassandra's hair. She looks up at him and has the fucking audacity to arch her eyebrow at him before she takes him into her mouth, gagging slightly. Rust has never really seen the appeal of getting head, once he moved past the initial adolescent fascination. It makes him feel out of control, undisciplined, subject to his body's pure evolutionary need to procreate. It's one of the most self-serving, vapid states you can be in, mouth wide open, dumbstruck by ecstasy, unable to form of coherent thought except to mindlessly shove yourself further into the other person who probably isn't enjoying it anywhere near as much as you. Yeah, that's what Rust hates about the whole act, the mindlessness of it. But, fuck, his body isn't even his anymore, belonging to some fucking DEA's office to dope up and regurgitate whatever information they need to peddle their case further, without ever getting their hands dirty or doing some real fucking work. So, he may as well abandon himself to the weakness of his innate biological need.

Cassandra tries to give herself some respite by licking a long stripe up his length but Rust is having none of it: he presses her down so that her nose flattens against his pubic bone making her gag again and harder, shoulders convulsing too.

'Come on, baby,' Rust croons cruelly, using his spare hand to light a cigarette, 'Thought you said you could take it.' Cassandra briefly takes her hand off of the back of his thigh to give him the middle finger, quickly reinstating it as Rust presses as hand to the back of her skull and thrusts harder,

'Keep that shit up and I'll make you gag on your own finger, next.'

A few more chokes and constrictions of Cassandra's throat, and Rust is coming hot and heavy down it. He doesn't let her catch her breath,

'Get up,' he says, fastening his belt with his cigarette still hanging from his mouth. Cassandra just slumps against the bathroom floor, held up half by a trembling arm and half by leaning against Rust's leg. She glances up, hearing the clink of his belt,

'You're getting dressed?' a slight desperation to her voice.

'No points for deduction, Cass.'

'No, no, wait-,' she says, clambering up, or at least trying to, on shaky legs, 'Crash, Crash, I didn't come. Please-'

'What did I tell you about you bein' grown? Grown women fix their own messes,' Rust says, face and tone stoic as he casts to the slick that has dripped down from the apex of Cassandra's thighs onto the floor just under her, her smeared lip gloss, her nipples hard and visible through the thin cotton of her dress. He gives her hair a harsh ruffle before walking out the bathroom. As he grabs the Jameson bottles and beer, he stops in front of the trailer's door calling out behind him,

'Get to work, Cassandra.'

[druidgroves]

been thinkin abt this for a while but it would make the most sense for georgia to change her last name as part of her character arc. eventually she'll get to a point where she's ready to make peace with her past & that involves swapping her married name for her maiden name. it's an effort to hold onto the person she was before she started changing parts of herself--chiefly, the parts that she feels are most "her"--to please others & fit into the mold pre-war society wanted to put her in.

[ddesole]

Cassian Jerón Andor - Original Backstory (from ‘Rogue One: The Ultimate Visual Guide’)

Cassian Andor grew up in the wilds of the Outer Rim, and came of age fighting against the Republic during the tumultuous Clone Wars. His father was killed at the Carida Military Academy during a protest against the expansion of Republic militarism. Though not a formal Separatist, Andor became part of a Confederacy-backed insurrectionist cell at a young age, tossing rocks and bottles at Republic walkers and Clone soldiers. He came to learn firsthand that even the most advanced combat machinery could be crippled with the right grit sprinkled in the right gears. In the time of the Empire, Andor was drawn into anarchist movements that continued to defy Imperial edicts. He was recruited by General Draven into the growing Rebellion. (Media sources: Andor (2022), Rogue One (2016), The Wasteland (2021), Black Crab (2022))

[cleolinda]

Here's another song I had wanted to write about: Hozier's "Movement." It is a fact of my existence that I get into a musical artist/band about 10 years after everyone else does, and then they become 30% of my personality (see also: Florence and the Machine). So I didn't really get with the program until Wasteland, Baby, and even then, it was for an unusual reason.

When did this album come out, spring of 2019? I had spinal surgery in early 2018. A discectomy, L4/L5; the disc had gradually become herniated due to a fall I'd had at a convention. My surgeon was required to warn me that surgery would come with a (low) chance of paralysis; it was my choice to make. After two weeks of seizing up in pain every hour or so, confined to my bed—hydrocodone did nothing—I chose the scalpel. Even then, it was another four weeks before he could work me into the operating schedule. Trust me when I say, no matter how I'm doing now, I do not regret having that surgery.

But he also told me, "You will always be a person who has had spinal surgery." Since anything was better than screaming every time I moved, I didn't fully understand what he meant until a year or so later, when I was still in pain—a chronic but lower-grade pain that came and went depending on how much activity I dared try that particular day. It was infinitely better than before. And, but, yet, I still deal with that chronic pain today. I will always be that person.

"Walk," he told me. I had a packet of therapy exercises to do, sure, but he was firm on this point. "That's the main exercise you need. Just walking." Which I couldn't do at first—I didn't have to learn to walk again or anything, but I was in a wheelchair early on, then on a wheeled walker for a couple of months. I also have inherited neuropathy in my feet, which was exacerbated by electrically painful sciatic nerve damage down my right leg while I waited for my slot in the surgery calendar. (I swear to God I will start talking about music soon.) I only walk across the longest side of my backyard. I don't leave it and walk around the neighborhood, because I generally have about two minutes upright to get back to the house once my feet start hurting.

So I had been struggling with my walking assignment for about a year when "Movement" came out. Of course it's literally about physically moving (and emotionally being moved), but that wasn't what captured me. The song starts out slow and reflective; it was a gentle tempo for a time when I couldn't walk very fast, and I still use it as a warm-up today. But there are two other things I love about it. One, the willow tree in the chorus, as I was walking my little runway back and forth under a canopy of wild water oak draped with wisteria, looking up into the sun through the leaves and snowflake flowers of an overgrown cherry laurel. Sound met landscape.

But the other thing is how—generous? accepting?—the words are of the "you" of the song. This person, the lyrics say, does not have to be a virtuoso dancer like Fred Astaire or Sergei Polunin (who's in the video up there). Instead, "you're Atlas in his sleeping, and when you move, I'm moved." My absolute favorite part is,

Move like grey skies Move like a bird of paradise Move like an odd sight come out at night

What the fuck even are these lyrics. I can't. That's so good. You ever sit there as a writer and think, I'm so mad I didn't come up with that? Just the pure unexpectedness, "I'm telling you how earthshakingly amazing this person is. Like a beautiful willow, like a rare bird, like some weird-ass cryptid in the night, I don't even know what that was about but I love it." What even. So good.

And I was for sure an odd sight shambling back and forth across the back of my yard: five minutes at first. Then ten the next week, working my way up to thirty, still in a dull roar of constant pain a year into my recovery. But this is a song that says, your efforts to move are moving, whatever movement is natural for you; you may be sleeping just now, you may be moving without moving, but you are wonderful not in spite of being strange in your movements, but because of it. The song always feels like a friend walking along with me, no matter how many setbacks I have, or how slow I have to go.

Anyway, Unreal Unearth comes out next Friday. The five songs Hozier's put out so far are ridiculously good, and I've scheduled a couple of months to be completely feral about it. When the weather is less dangerously hot, we'll find out which songs are good to move to.

[askvectorprime]

Dear Vector Prime, have you ever had a Headmaster partner?

Dear Aegis Agent,

I have indeed. Allow me to continue my tale of the ultimate Titan Masters, and I promise your curiosity will be satisfied.

While Arcee was tracking down the Titan Master hidden on Caminus, a separate mission was being carried out on the colony world of Biosfera—known to the locals as Eukaris. Grotusque, Twinferno and Repugnus journeyed there to find another Titan Master, this one believed to grant incredible fireblast. The Monsterbots were not Optimus Prime’s first choice for the mission, as he worried their bellicose disposition would create conflict with the native population—but with the so-called jungle planet having no roads to speak of, only Autobots with bestial alt-modes would be able to handle the terrain.

As Biosfera had been largely insulated from the Autobot-Decepticon conflict, the Monsterbots expected its inhabitants to be pushovers, who would do little to impede or expedite their search one way or the other. Instead, they arrived to find the planet on the brink of all-out war between the four major tribes. Something was terribly wrong: the kinds of weapons being amassed were beyond even those used by Cybertronians in their raw destructive potential. Still, the Monsterbots decided the brewing tensions were none of their business, and decided to focus on searching for the Titan Master.

It was at that point that I was forced to intervene. I materialized in their midst, which proved to be something of a miscalculation: they were taken by surprise, and turned on me immediately. Naturally, I am no lightweight, but I must admit the three of them had me on the ropes. I forced a time-out, separating us from physical spacetime, to allow us to communicate without violence. Once they were prepared to listen, I told them what I had seen.

In the future, Biosfera is an irradiated wasteland. Algorithmic engines crawl over the ash, feeding carbonized trees into immense furnaces, liquid metal pouring from foundries to coat the planet, constructing some kind of superstructure… to uncertain ends. The few survivors of the global devastation have shed the last vestiges of their organic biology, becoming purely robotic lifeforms in order to weather the potent radiation.

The Monsterbots refused to believe me without proof, and so I removed my head, Safeguard. Repugnus briefly swapped Dastard for Safeguard, and saw in his memory banks what we had witnessed of that apocalyptic future. Begrudgingly, the Monsterbots agreed to help us, and we separated, each to visit one of the four tribes.

High in the mountain eyries of the Cloud Walkers, Grotusque and Fengul discovered that they had forged a partnership with the Decepticon Fangry, who had given them a powerful attack jet. At the same time, Twinferno and Daburu found the Scale Walkers to be strategizing with Krok, who had armed them with an unstoppable armored tank. So too were the Wave Walkers consulting with the crab-like Squeezeplay, and as I discovered, the Fur Walkers had welcomed amongst them the ferocious Horri-Bull. It was obvious to us that the Decepticons had completely infiltrated the planet’s tribes, and were deliberately stirring conflict between them. Unfortunately, stirring conflict was the Monsterbots’ specialty, and they each started fights with the Decepticons on sight, leading to them quickly being ousted from the other tribes. Safeguard and I had the most luck, managing to convince the chieftain of the Fur Walkers that they were better off without the “guidance” of Cybertronians—though unfortunately, this included ourselves.

We regrouped, and the Monsterbots decided to resume their search for the mythical Titan Master hidden on the planet. I hoped that in the course of our hunt, we would stumble across a centralized base of operations for the Decepticons, which might produce the evidence we needed to sway the tribes. As it turned out, we were being followed: one of Twinferno’s heads spotted a bird flying overhead, and recognised it not as one of the Cloud Walkers, but as the Decepticon Wingspan. Twinferno almost flew up to take out the snooping Decepticon, but I was able to convince him to hold. We waited until nightfall, and when Wingspan left to make his report, we quietly followed.

He led us to a foreboding tower of steel, a weapons factory hidden in a barren valley. Inside, ensconced within the topmost chamber, we found the true mastermind behind the hostilities: the lost Titan Master, Scorponok. Once, he had commanded one of the Titans of myth, but he had been usurped by the alien Lord Zarak. Driven to madness by this defeat, he had begun traveling the galaxy in search of new evolutionary pathways. On this remote and primeval colony, he found them: and now, his machinations had brought him to the precipice of his return to power. In the fallout, once the biomechanical natives evolved into a purely mechanical existence to survive the nuclear winter that followed, he would use a planetwide relay to reach out and upload his consciousness simultaneously into thousands of bodies—becoming a gestalt lifeform on a scale that would surpass even the Titans.

Well, we certainly weren’t going to stand around and wait for that to happen! The Monsterbots made short work of Wingspan and Horri-Bull, but Scorponok was far from finished: he recalled the jet and the tank from the tribes, and they joined together to form the almighty Overlord. One Titan Master formed his head, while another plugged into his chest, right alongside Scorponok himself—giving the combined giant three times the power.

As it happened, deploying Overlord turned out to be a miscalculation: unbeknownst to us all, skillful trackers from the four tribes had followed us to Scorponok’s lair, and when they saw that the Cloud Walkers’ and Scale Walkers’ new weapons were in fact one and the same, they finally had proof that they’d been deceived. They raced back to their homes, to urge their leaders to begin peace talks. Unable to take down Overlord, we beat a hasty retreat, and he split into his individual components once more to menace the tribes.

Unfortunately, the nuclear submarine Scorponok had built for the Wave Walkers remained in play—and once he gave the command, it launched its payload, sending a dozen missiles up into the atmosphere. Converting to starship mode, I flew after them, and began an arduous process to disarm the bombs. First, I froze the missiles in time, halting their trajectories but maintaining their velocity relative to the planet’s rotation in space. Then, with a boost of power from Safeguard, I isolated each individual warhead, accelerating time to allow billions of years to pass in what was, from our perspective, mere cycles. During that time, the fissile material experienced many half-lives’ worth of radioactive decay… until finally, the payloads were rendered inert. Although I had saved the planet from nuclear fallout, the missiles still had enough raw explosive power to cause untold destruction—and I was powerless to stop them. The radiation from the warheads needed to go somewhere—and although spread over a short period, it was still a strong enough burst of gamma rays to cause a chain reaction, unleashing an electromagnetic pulse which knocked me offline and sent me plummeting into the ocean.

The rest, I heard after-the-fact, once the Wave Walkers dredged me up and brought me to shore. The Fur Walkers and Scale Walkers united, ambushing Overlord’s tank half, while the Monsterbots waylaid the jet—just long enough for the Cloud Walkers to intercept and destroy the missiles in midair, before they reached their targets.

As for Scorponok, he was able to slip away in the confusion. The Monsterbots were frustrated to have failed their mission, but after seeing the sheer destructive potential of his fireblast, they knew it was for the best that Cybertron would have to do without his power. They resolved that when Scorponok next appeared, they would be ready and waiting to settle the score.

Back on Cybertron, the situation had gone from bad to worse: Powerhouse’s seismic forces disturbed Trypticon from his hibernation, and he awoke very hungry indeed. After consuming several Titan Masters, including Powerhouse, and gaining their abilities, Trypticon lay waste to the Autobot defenses, felling Fortress Maximus. Just in time, Iron Apex arrived from Caminus, merging with Magnus Prime to form Omega Prime, who was able to drive the beast back to the Praetorus Wharf.

During the battle, I had been impressed by the bravery of Metalhawk, and so before returning to the Realm of the Primes, I entrusted with him the power of my spark—much as my father, Primus, had done long ago to create the Titan Masters in the first place.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Night Queen and the Frozen Plague.

I had to do a wee bit of tinkering to the GoT lore, namely that the White Walkers can speak beyond those eerie death cries we all know and love. But here, as promised, mostly for my Sharkie, some Brynhild and Heavenerys!

The sound of his roar fractured the still of the air, the great army of the dead all halting at their queen’s command, Brynhild looking to the sky.

“Southern enemies, my queen,” hissed Craxor, her general. Half skeleton, half rotting flesh, turning his sunken face skyward as he viewed the beast who cast a shadow over the frozen wasteland. 

“Not enemies,” she whispered, her glowing, azure eyes picking out the dragon circling overhead, through the thick of the snow clouds. ”Heavenerys Targaryen and her dragon. At last, she has heard my call. She has come home.”  

The curse of the cold had come to pass, the first-born, pure-blooded child of King Amarys Targaryen blighted by it, as she surely would be. An ill-advised trip north of the wall had led to the ancestral curse landing squarely upon the child, Havenerys born with the mark of the dead. One look into her piercing eyes, and Amarys had seen it, his soul filled with dread.  

Therein born to him and his queen, was the downfall of man. The Night Queen would call for her one day, and his precious girl would answer. 

Kairaxès began his descent from the sky, the snow swirling in tempestuous storms beneath the whoosh of his huge, white wings, shaking the ground he landed upon. The army waited, thousands of wights in amongst a battalion of white walkers, all standing poised. Dead men lain to waste, with no other purpose than to serve their immortal queen. 

Brynhild moved on her tattered, giant black steed, the haggard creature propelled forward on shattered fetlocks, ribbons of decayed flesh floating hauntingly in the breeze. Only she advanced, her army waiting, Heavenerys taking them all in as she dismounted and climbed down to the floor, stroking her dragon’s face.  

“All is well, my beautiful beast,” she spoke at his warning rattles. “They are unlike all we know, but they pose us no harm.” She wasn’t too sure why it was that she intrinsically knew that, but she did. She felt it on a level much deeper than the very last roots of her soul.  

The Night Queen slowed her mount, bringing him to a stop and jumping down to her feet, walking the remaining way to where the Targaryen stood.  

“Welcome to the northern wastes,” Brynhild stated, her voice like a whispered death rattle, sending a slight chill through Heavenerys. She was beyond other worldly, the power radiating from her unlike anything she had ever felt. She watched the ancient queen spear her long, white lance into the frozen ground beneath her feet, eyeing her with the same curiosity. She was all Brynhild had foreseen she would be.  

“I felt I had to come to you, but I do not know why,” she spoke, her sharp, angular face set, staring as the queen slowly approached. 

“You know exactly why, Heavenerys. For justice. For revenge.” The fire of recognition danced in her eyes, the young Targaryen finally feeling heard by somebody. “To wrong those who have wronged you. Amos. Aerthurys. To rain fire and ice upon your enemies, to all those who have harmed you. I believe they call it Valar Morghulis in your mother tongue.” 

Heavenerys nodded, yet her face still questioned. “But why was it, that I felt you call out to me? Why was it you, here in a land where I do not belong?” 

“From me you came, and to me you return, child.”  

At those words, she felt her blood chill to freeze. “I am not a child.”  

Brynhild lifted her chin. “When I am older than time itself, you are very much a child.” She felt it in the air, the waves of cold, foreboding magic, magic not to make an impact. “And your sorcery cannot charm me. Save that. It has its place, it’s intended use.”  

“I cannot if you intend to make me like them,” she spoke, her finger pointing out to the white walkers, Brynhild turning to view her generals. 

“No, which is why I do not intend to. You returning to me was always for a purpose beyond your own. I need you, to make a pathway for us. For my army. For our army. Only with you can I break down the wall and march on Westeros.” 

Many summers and winters would pass, before the final dreadful cold of great north arrived. On that day, Heavenerys flew the great Kairaxès back across the wall, his frozen flames decimating the fortitude, his rider’s magic breaking it further.  

Together, the Frozen Plague and the Night Queen brought their army forth into Westeros.  

Winter is here.  

Valar Marghulis.  

@call-sign-shark @wonderlanddreamer @justrainandcoffee @cillmequick @novashelby

[bestestspirit]

Bestest Spirit Showdown is over!

Congratulations to Belonging Guide!

My name is Fia, and I thank you for your participation.

(click the image to see it better)

64 spirits were elected in the preliminary round to participate in this tournament.

Who wasn't included: office spirits, npcs who aren't spirits, beta spoilers.

Links to the polls can be found under readmore

Preliminaries

Isle of Dawn • Daylight Prairie • Hidden Forest • Valley of Triumph • Golden Wasteland • Vault of Knowledge • Season of Gratitude • Season of Lightseekers • Season of Belonging • Season of Rhythm • Season of Enchantment • Season of Sanctuary • Season of Prophecy • Season of Dreams • Season of Assembly • Season of The Little Prince • Season of Flight • Season of Abyss • Season of Performance • Season of AURORA • Season of Remembrance • Days Events Guides • Redemption round

Round One

Part 1

Prophet of Fire vs Scarecrow Farmer

Frantic Stagehand vs Laughing Light Catcher

Scolding Student vs Confetti Cousin

Peeking Postman vs Manta Whisperer

Doublefive Light Catcher vs Jelly Whisperer

Pleading Child vs Cackling Cannoneer

Levitating Adept vs Timid Bookworm

Seed of Hope vs Jumpsuit Rainbow Guide

Chill Sunbather vs Tearful Light Miner

Tiptoeing Tea Brewer vs Stretching Lamplighter

Stealthy Survivor vs Sleepy Traveler

Admiring Actor vs Bloom Guide

Playfighting Herbalist vs Questgiver

Frightened Refugee vs Performance Guide

Prophecy Guide vs Fainting Warrior

Cargo Pants Rainbow Guide vs Sassy Drifter

Part 2

Crab Whisperer vs Rallying Thrillseeker

Warrior of Love vs Hide'n'seek Pioneer

Belonging Guide vs Praying Acolyte

Laidback Pioneer vs Flight Guide

Boogie Kid vs Bereft Veteran

Mischief Guide Samantha vs Mischief Guide Skidmore

Ushering Stargaser vs Slouching Soldier

Gloating Narcissist vs Saluting Protector

Troupe Juggler vs Abyss Guide

Bearhug Hermit vs Festival Spin Dancer

Blushing Prospector vs Rhythm Guide

Assembly guide vs Light Whisperer

Butterfly Charmer vs Cheerful Spectator

Young Skater vs Krab Walker

Bird Whisperer vs Daydream Forester

Backflipping Champion vs Gratitude Guide

Round 2

Prophet of Fire vs Frantic Stagehand

Scolding Student vs Peeking Postman

Doublefive Light Catcher vs Cackling Cannoneer

Timid Bookworm vs Seed of Hope

Chill Sunbather vs Stretching Lamplighter

Sleepy Traveler vs Bloom Guide

Old Questgiver vs Performance Guide

Prophecy Guide vs Sassy Drifter

Crab Whisperer vs Warrior of Love

Belonging Guide vs Flight Guide

Boogie Kid vs Mischief Guide Samantha

Slouching Soldier vs Gloating Narcissist

Troupe Juggler vs Bearhug Hermit

Rhythm Guide vs Light Whisperer

Butterfly Charmer vs Young Skater

Daydream Forester vs Gratitude Guide

Round 3

Frantic Stagehand vs Peeking Postman

Cackling Cannoneer vs Seed of Hope

Stretching Lamplighter vs Bloom Guide

Performance Guide vs Prophecy Guide

Crab Whisperer vs Belonging Guide

Boogie Kid vs Slouching Soldier

Bearhug Hermit vs Light Whisperer

Young Skater vs Daydream Forester

Quarterfinals

Frantic Stagehand vs Cackling Cannoneer

Stretching Lamplighter vs Performance Guide

Belonging Guide vs Slouching Soldier

Bearhug Hermit vs Young Skater

Semifinals

Cackling Cannoneer vs Performance Guide

Belonging Guide vs Bearhug Hermit

Final Round

Performance Guide vs Belonging Guide

Cackling Cannoneer vs Bearhug Hermit [for 3rd place]

Friendly matches

Bloom Guide vs Admiring Actor's Butt

Performance Guide's Booty vs Admiring Actor's Buttchecks

Sneezing Geographer vs Provoking Performer

The War

The Rose vs Void of Shattering