#windy wisp | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rise-my-angel · 6 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

26 - The Last Dragon

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 12.3k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, violence, warfare, graphic or disturbing imagery, blood, canon divergence

Notes: Dragonstone is based off of the book and book concept art, not the show depiction of the island. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The waters splashed against the side of the ship with as much force as it took to pour the mists of water over the sides of the deck. Sprays and splashes making it seem like their was rain over top them, when the sea was just windy and moving fast along with them. In truth, the sky was clear, bright stars above and not a cloud to be seen, but as long as the winds didn’t force them against the tides it, a little bit of water overhead was not much of a problem to consider.

Sailing down the path of war was new for Jon. He had sailed once and found war but it was not the intention as they came to the shores of Hardhome. Now though, he had sent an ask of reason to avoid such a conflict but his hand was forced. They needed one thing from the mines of the island and yet they were denied as aggressively as he stories he heard of ones before him. What Jon knew of Rhaegar Targaryean was very little, and the only parts which reached him painted as much of an image as he cared to know. What the image his son seemed to have of the man must have been painted over with something sweet, because even passed his own bias, Jon could see very little to admire.

The nearer they came to their destination, the more he didn’t like the idea that the one who was to find out how close the two men were, was you. But now, it was too late to change that plan. Too late to force you to let someone else do it, and he was not going to demean you in front of his men by asking you to do so. Jon had to accept it, he would lead his army into the lands up to the castle, and you would go around, cut off their backup forces from being able to aid in pushing Jons back, before convincing Aegon yourself to force the rest into a surrender.

Walking down the path of the ship, he could see it coming, see it finally appear through a mist in the distance and clear into a vision of a nightmare. Dragonstone was worse then he had once imagined, it was vast, and impenetrable from anywhere but the shores he sailed towards.

None of the Starks had any clue what a place they had been sending you home to for years.

The largest in sight was the volcano of Dragonmont, pale grey wisps of smoke from the top of the mountain blew down to where the lands and waters lay. All around the sides were a rocky shore that stretched too high and too jagged, but it led into rolling cliffs of land that rose which each peak. Water from each end drenched down the sides and poured into the stream below until landing in the bay that encased the shore.

Much work had been done on the lands to make it workable as it was. Paths and carvings into the stone and dirt that were surrounded by dark stones which was the only clear way up. Stairs and inclines the only thing that separated from the impenetrable land around, and it would be in those paths which blood would be shed. You had prepared him for it though, giving as specific as detail as you could, it would not be an easy place to spread out. The line would have to be held beacuse there was nowhere to go but up the paths from here.

What you had referred to as the curtain, were steep mountain inclines that led to the castle where stairs had once been carved into the very sides of almost flat walls, to get down to the shores. The beaches were long, stretching out to the edges cliffs, but it was clear that there was no way of getting to the castle easy. Long, thinner stretches of sand that were pushed against the rocks and the ones that surrounded that were even more perilous then the steep ones you would be climbing.

All along the shore and sitting within the waters of the bay were ships. The Golden Company were poised on their decks, waiting for Jon’s fleet to come close enough for a fight at sea that they had the advantage in. They would not come to them, they were waiting to be approached.

As Jon ascended the steps up to the bow, the only other figure there standing with his forearms resting against the edge of the ship, was Theon. Coming beside him, Jon braced both hands on the wooden sides as his grey eyes were wide and in an unnerved awe at the sight. Both men had heard the stories but seeing it was a new one all together.

Castle walls sat tall and each layer was higher then the last as it was build atop a new cliff side, and elaborate black carvings of stone had created expansive paths to connect the castle towers into one elaborate, complex building. On each side of the castle, the tallest at the very back, and a thick tower sat within the middle of the castle walls were high towers carved with very large, ornate dragons atop. The entrance of the main gate which was his destination was surrounded by the roaring open mouth of a dragon with three sitting on the top of the gates. The more one looked, the more dragons he could see.

Fires were lit on castle peaks all around making it seem like it glowed against the darkness in a terrifying manner. Jon and Theon glanced to the other with a similar feeling in their guts, this was a place build to terrify and it only the over confidence of those calling themselves dragons, who would consider this a home worthy of themselves. But as he turned to look at the ships following their lead, he could see only one who did not look at such a place as a fearful place to overcome.

Instead, you looked at it with a narrowed darkness in your eyes. Stood near the stern to the left, you hardly moved or blinked as your eyes scoured the lands you knew so well as the winds blew your hair and cloak through the airs behind you as if you were the only one coming there with confidence of what was to come. That, and an anger brewing that Jon too could feel in his own chest.

Aegon himself did not commit those acts, but he was now standing in the memory of his father to claim the Throne. He was choosing to act as the one to carry Rhaegar’s legacy, which had left both Jon’s and your family changed forever. The damage he had done was still felt now, closer to thirty years later and Jon could not fathom wanting to fight this hard for anything of that mans name. Not even a throne.

Jon also couldn’t help the dread of why such a place of nightmares, seemed to hold the answer to the freezing nightmares waiting for the realm beyond the North. Why was part of the answer here, and why did both feel just as dangerous and sickening to be around as the other?

The new King's armour was shining against the lights of the fires around. The metals of it painted a pitch black as across the plated chest sat the deep red of a three headed dragon. If Aegon were trying to be clever, he would have found it in him to say if there were supposed to be three dragons, why was only he here? But he knew why, or at least somewhat of why. Connington still held that place of who Aegon was to marry, but yet the one who chose to leave her behind was himself. Aegon had had the debate with him over it on the Shy Maid as they sailed near Volantis.

“Daenerys is Prince Rhaegar’s sister, but I am Rhaegar’s son. I am the only dragon you need.” Connington trying to tell him to think about what he was saying before making such a choice, but Aegon had not looked to his future and planned with her in it. He never had. She has three living dragons they all spoke, but if his family was so powerful, he didn’t need the all encompassing fire and blood of dragons to fight as one. Actual dragons were what made her a ruler, but Aegon had been the dragon raised to rule on his own merit. “I have. Why should I go running to my aunt as if I'm some beggar? My claim is better then hers. If she should choose to join me or fight me, let her come to me in Westeros.”

Looking to the armour across his person now, he wasn’t with the same easy confidence. Men had been watching with keen eyes the second the sun set and now it was only a matter of time before they appeared. He had found it within him to ask those of the castle whom were here serving those before him. Serving the Baratheon’s that ended his family to hear what Connington was trying to keep from him.

The King in the North sailed to his shores. His wife, the Baratheon heir at his side which they were all once told had been slaughtered at the side of her last husband. The first King in the North, since his namesake had taken these very lands. And it only compounded at how little he was ever going to avoid this conflict. The first King in the North after all, had been Robb Stark, Eddard Stark’s eldest son.

And now his second eldest son, the King’s brother Jon Snow, took that same mantle and the same wife and both now were coming for Aegon, in lands which the Baratheon girl grew up in. Connington had avoided for a long time discussing his father’s final year. What Rhaegar had done to the Stark girl, what war came after Aerys burned two more Stark’s alive and ended with Robert Baratheon crushing his father at the trident and taking the throne for himself. Vengeance for taking his betrothed from him and now most of the men from those days lay long dead.

And yet, it was Rhaegar’s son who now stood to fight against Lyanna Stark’s nephew and Robert Baratheon’s niece. Connington came to him as the night grew darker and men grew more tense around the castle. Chain, Young Mudd, and Harry Strickland all joining at his side with ease, and all there was to do at that point, was wait. Sit, and wait hoping that whatever numbers came from the North, were nothing like the ones he was imagining. For now, the five stood around inside the base of the Windwyrm Tower, sharing a drink and whatever stories men of the Golden Company could come up with to pass the time until the inevitable.

“You Southerners in the habit of building your castles in dangerous places for no reason?” As your eyes kept high on the cliff sides of Dragonmont, Tormund had been standing by you with as watchful as he was curious it seemed.

A low hum in your throat as your eyes felt sharp and somewhat stinging looking into the windy night for the right signs. “Not typically. Old stories say that ancient Valyrians build the castle with blood magic, but Dragonmont hasn’t erupted in it’s recorded history.”

“So why’s it smoking like that?” It indeed was a little bit more, but that came in waves as many maesters had spoken of. The air was slowly turning colder and it would more as such the further into winter it became, but you also knew some seasons saw fit to rain down on the island with storms and torrential weather which did not hit other coastal homes elsewhere.

Ryk to the other side of you commented in jest, “Maybe it knows the dragon’s come home.”

Your eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and a nervous twisting settled deep within your chest but without being entirely sure of what it was speaking to. Your voice on the air of breathy as you waters spilling into the shores bay, “Or it may be telling the dragons they are no longer welcome.” You wouldn’t have believed such an idea once upon a time, but now things were too different. Too much of you had been tested on what you thought you knew to be real, and your dreams still haunted you.

Ones of cold and ice that now spoke of a horror you understood to fight, but now you were finding dreams of fire. And those dreams of fire made you wish to return to the freezing ones. Ice or fire, and a life growing up in homes representing places of both you would choose Ice. The realm had seen too much of the horror of fire, and now it was held in your hands as well.

Tormund seemed to come to a similar conclusion, “We make it through the winter, pretty crow, and I’ll bring you North with me. None of their dragons ever stepped foot in our lands before.”

No, you thought, they never have. Few ever went into the North and fewer that far, and you only ever came across one story in all of Maester Cressen’s books that told of a Targaryean and their dragon finding their way to the Wall. And how something made the creature turn back before ever crossing it. He had said it was just a story, but many just stories were truths of the world now.

Only a half smirk came to one side of your face. “Let’s make it through tonight first. If we can climb to the tops of the curtain walls in once piece we still have an army and a King to sneak up on. I would prefer not to get too cocky right at the last minute.”

Glancing more at you now with a curious eye raised, he rumbled “You and your husband get through your war thinking like that?”

That was how you should’ve known it was nerves inside of you, not once did a mention of Robb twist in your heart painful enough you saw the blue and red haunting his final moments. All you could see were the images in your mind of the stories told about that day long passed on the Trident.

The way the knights in the castle growing up would speak of Robert’s victory, the images of how grandiose and impressive his defeat had looked and yet you knew war now. War was never impressive, only horrific. No matter the triumph of the moment, you knew your Uncle’s strength and you knew that it was lucky Rhaegar had little family left to mourn him. The fury of a Baratheon would not have left the prince recognizable. Just as Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch had left little Rhaenys, and whoever that baby boy was at Elia Martell’s side.

Low in tone, were he not leaning towards you, Tormund may have missed it over the pounding of water and tides against the ships around you. “We survived at war for three years, we always won when we thought the odds were stacked against us. The second we got comfortable, we lost.”

Would killing Roose Bolton so violently have made you feel better, or would it have just turned you more into Robert? Were your sister alive Aegon, you had thought, would she be proud of you for trying to live on in your father’s memory or was little Rhaenys lucky enough to have taken after her mother?

You hoped for both of their sakes, both children took after Elia. Almost thirty years since Rhaegar had died and still his destruction was felt throughout the lands. It wasn’t fair to Lyanna, nor Elia and Rhaenys, nor Brandon and Rickard Stark, but it also wasn’t fair to all of you now.

You were now the Baratheon coming for the Targaryean, but you wished you didn’t have to be.

“Always heard what they say about it, used to think they had to be exaggerating.” Both men looked to the island growing in the distance, through the fog on the sea it wouldn’t be much longer until they were spotted.

Jon didn’t take his eyes off the high cliffs, his voice a little more distant then Theon’s beside him. “The Lannisters destroyed half of Stannis’s fleet with it. Was sailing on King’s Landing and they thought it would be enough to push him back.” The King himself had relayed the details, and Ser Davos had been notably quiet during the conversation. Jon at least knew the man was thankful he wasn’t captaining the ship responsible for it, no matter the side he was finding himself on.

Theon leaned his arms a bit forward more on the ledge, glancing down for the briefest if moments to ensure it was all still in place, and sure enough the only small amount with them was safe and secure as it was the last time he checked. “Don’t know if I’m glad or terrified it’s on our side.”

Inhaling deeply as Jon’s hands tensed over the wood, he took a glance to where he knew you were watching from your side. “All I know is we use it now, means it can’t hurt anyone else. Been used enough for that the last hundred years or so.”

Theon glanced to him, eyes sharp with a question before it rung in his head. “Forgot that’s what started it.” Jon nodded once but said little else on it. Glancing between the misty shores and him, Theon tried to come off as more nonchalant then prying. “Is it weird? Thinking about the rebellion, knowing at some point during then you were..”

Jon was starting to suspect the hurt in his father’s eyes that day on the Kingsroad was the same look starting to form in his own when it was brought up. He never went without a father who loved him, and even after him it felt like too many had tried to take his place. But it wasn’t that he was missing. It wasn’t watching his siblings with their father that had him hurt.

He had asked his father that day if his mother knew about him, if she knew where he was going, if she cared. But now, Jon had a new question to add. Would she be proud of who he’s become?

“I don’t know. I’ve always tried to imagine it, how he met her, who she was but I never could come up with anything that made sense. Nothing ever fit the man I knew my father really was. Or what was so bad about it that he died spending over twenty four years keeping it a secret from everyone.” The war had left his father’s family in such tatters and yet somewhere in there Jon was some part of that story and he didn’t understand how or why he fit in.

Robb at least was conceived before leaving for war. Catelyn pregnant before his father set out, you wouldn’t even be born until two years after it ended. But somewhere in the middle of war, his father had conceived him. Was his mother always there, did she seek him out after Jon was already born? How late into a war did his father decide to take a child with him? It had been a long time since any of this was so heavily on his mind.

Theon seemed to sense that, thankfully. “Didn’t Arya used to try and figure out who it was?”

That had Jon chuckle. “She did. She was so confident she'd be able to, even though everyone would tell her she was wrong and father never even came close to paying attention to it.” He paused for a moment, jaw clenching in thought before relenting. “I don’t even think I remember any of the names she came up with. Not sure going down South with just that is going to help very much.”

“That and you don’t even look like her.” Jon glanced quickly with a raised eyebrow as Theon shrugged a shoulder. “Part why Lady Catelyn didn’t like you I suspected. Her husband’s bastard son looked more like a true Stark then her children did. Always figured that meant you didn’t get much from your mother.”

It was true, especially the older Jon got the more he could see his father in his reflection.

“Wonder what yours will look like.” Brows narrowing, Jon turned to the man who half heartedly gestured behind him to where you stood. “You look like a true Stark, she’s got all those Baratheon looks that all of them seem to inherit. Was wondering which of you, your own children will take after.”

Head hanging the slightest, his hands tensing against the wood, glad the gloves were hiding such a strain in his knuckles. He couldn’t think about that, not right now. Not with what they were all about to get into. Only muttering behind a clenched jaw, “If we’re lucky, they’ll take after her.”

Just as Theon had something else on the tip of his tongue, a sound rung out. Faded against the distance of the water, but the distinct clanging of bells ringing deep across the way.

Echoing along the waves and hitting the sides of the ship as the splashing which followed, your eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It had likely been a very long time since it came of any use, little having reason to bang them as opposed to the constant of their noise in Kings Landing it had once felt.

Tormund glancing to you with a raised eyebrow, “I’m guessing that isn’t to tell us they give up already.”

You tilted your head slightly, jaw clenching as you looked to the island closing in as the men standing by awaiting what they knew was the order. “The dragon wishes to play music with me in my home.” Eyes flickering to the men at the wait of your orders, you held only a tiny of a rigid and unamused glint over them, “Then let’s return the courtesy, shall we.”

Had you asked Tormund years ago what he thought of Southerners using instruments in war he would’ve said it was pointless. Giving away your position when so much of how they managed to survive in the far North was stealth around the crows. But now? There was something to be said about the air around the ship, all the ships.

The drums were loud, quite loud and rippled through your chest like thunder as it mobilized the men all waiting to come to the surface for a fight. Across the seas, each ship held the same playing in a booming tandem as each sound their decks filling with the men to fight once ready. That, and now that he could see the impending sight of the island, he suspected it wasn’t just for your side. But hearing the bass of drums in war coming across the foggy sea was to intimidate the enemy.

That and, you counted on them seeing you coming. You needed them right where they’d go upon spotting the fleet heading their direction. All that needed to work now, was one final thing, the one thing both you and Jon had spent the entire time watching like hawks on each respective side of your ship since the island came into view.

This battle wouldn’t begun until one more thing set in place. And it was the most important one.

Moving across the gallery to the tops of the battlements from the Windwyrm tower, they had passed a multitude of men all making their way to the main gates. All of them looked much like Jon Connington did now, faces hardened and lines deep as they knew what was to come all used to the bulk of armour and weapons adorning them. Connington didn’t however, quite know if Aegon looked ready.

He fit the image on paper. Dark armour new and painted just for him, weapons sharped at the ready at his side and the narrowed expression in his face as he walked tall. But his eyes, he wasn’t sure when he looked into them. Not that Connington blamed him, his first true feat as King now that his feet have landed anywhere near Westeros, was a battle with the heirs of ghosts. Some handled it well, others didn’t and he was doing a good job at hiding whichever way he felt about it.

As they walked up to the tall landings along the stretch of walls between towers, looking out to the bay there was what the men had spotted. The faintest sights of ships in the distance, and for only a moment was Connington slightly unsure over their position at how many there were. The Northerners were a little more prepared for the sea then Lord Varys’s little birds had whispered to him.

Strickland next to him commented in what was clearly his own amusement on the matter, “Seems more then a couple thousand Northerners if you ask me.” Connington turned to him with a glare but didn’t respond any. Keeping instead to face more towards Aegon as they both looked out at the sea.

The men however continued to talk, “What do they know about sailing? Got one port for that whole stretch of land and none who know shit about the sea.”

Your name came sharp from Aegon, his own eyes tense and wide as he barley blinked watching the approaching fleet. “She grew up on this island, was Robert Baratheon’s master of ships when he died too. If anyone knows how to get these men their way onto the island it’d be her.”

It was strange the differences in who each of them were more consumed with. Connington stuck on the living memory of dead Starks on the Targaryean’s hands that was now coming his way. Aegon trapped in the unseen story of Robert Baratheon beating and killing his father, and the niece now coming right for him.

Lord Varys had said to keep him away from Jon Snow, but Connington was starting to think that it was the Baratheon he needed to keep him away from. This wasn’t the Trident, but both living heirs had the potential to hold the grudges and fury to force it upon themselves. But his instructions to the men were clear and he had to rely on that.

Voice strong and confident hoping it would wash over to the one next to him. “They still have to get passed our fleet in the first place.” Aegon looking up to him, eyes slipping from harsh to a brighter trust in him as Connington spoke low only for his ears. “Their numbers are only higher as long as they stand on the opposite side of our ships. We are the ones with the advantage.”

He thought deeply it seemed before nodding, that trust more confident as they looked at the other for the moment. In the moon of the night and fires lit by, Connington almost forgot that Aegon’s eyes weren’t supposed to be blue.

Across the ships blocking the way to the shores, men adorned in golden armour all were posed for a fight that they didn’t need to be paid to be ready for. The Northerners coming their way looked not intimidating, and their ships in fact seemed to slow. If they weren’t mistaken, it almost appeared as if they were stopping short.

Each captain yelling out, manning their archers to the sides and keeping them to hold as suspicious eyes watched. One of the ships was just closer then the rest of them, more towards the middle of the stretching bay but it too, didn’t come closer.

Aegon high up on the walls, noticed as well. “Why have they stopped?” Connington turned slightly to him only to follow his eyes trained harshly on the sea as he spoke louder to the rest of them. “Something isn’t right, they aren’t coming closer..”

Words were not spoken between any of the parties. Many eyes watching for others and none dared speak a word as it played out. Stepping up to the bow of the ship, your brows were narrowed and eyes dark as you looked up to the peak of the cliff you had watched.

Theon put the bow in your hands as you finally turned away from the sight. Grabbing hold of it and the arrow as the final of it all was before you. Hardly any, and only enough that the adjusted tips of two arrows could coat along the substance enough to cover only what was needed.

Glancing up to him, you and Jon shared the same mind. Only few would be able to detect how unsure you felt but the other knew it was there plain as day. There was no turning back after this, no ignoring that this was going to be on your hands. But Jon was insistent, it would be on both your hands. It was your plan he had said, but if he was King, it was his duty to have the courage to do it himself.

Only a tiny shift of reassurance you to him, and he to you, both of you stood straight, turning to the high cliff peaks to the sides of the bay hiding away the castle and one eye to the left other to the right, all you two did was wait one final stretch. But the slightest of sights was all you needed.

On one end, a flame which did not belong to any of Aegon’s men, made it’s flight from the cliff peak right to falling down uselessly into the sea below. You had glanced to Jon and his eyes saw the same on the one he had watched. There was no other way to do this without costing too much.

Jon needed to get onto the island, and he needed his men, more then Aegon needed his. The smallest flame at the very bow of the ship had been now accompanied by two soaked arrow heads, and in an instant the flames poured onto it and lit the ends for both of you.

Your eyes wide as you held it, the tiniest of green flames casting a glow over you but you swallowed heavily. Moving into place properly, nowhere but that exact spot to be paid attention too. You and Jon trusted the other to not need any words to know when to let go. Only for a moment as you both aimed high in the air, bow strings pulling the flames as close to your face as they could get did you notice that having it that close to you in such a small amount, already felt uncomfortably hot for the mere seconds you held.

But it didn't last long. Jon let his loose as you did. Both slowly putting the bows down, all any did from the ships to the walls did, was watch. Some, knew better then others.

It had been a long time since Connington had seen it, but there was no mistakening the sight. From the ship out front on each side, had come two arrows lit with fire. But not just any fire. The angle they were being shot, would have put such a normal flame out with the winds against them. But this wasn’t a normal fire, the green lighting the ends came to one side of the cliff to the other.

Aegon had seen it too, the arrows coming to the pouring curtains of water that would spill out into the bay and out to the sea where currently, many armed men and fleet all were positioned. It was dark and foggy and why would they have noticed?

It was too late, all Aegon and Connington could do was stand and watch as they came up to the waters and splashed into what they had done, what had been pouring into the water through the darkness. As the arrows hit, the green took over the curtains pouring and spilled downwards on each side as it lit them all up in a green glow.

It was horribly fitting Connington realized. Rickard and Brandon Stark had been burned alive in the middle of the Red Keep with wildfire, as he and every other could only stand and watch. Now, he was to do so again, but with his own men. And it was the last living Stark who did it to him.

Connington grabbed Aegon just as Aegon did him, and only with seconds did they try and pull the other more into them to cover but the force was too great. As the waters lit green, the wildfire followed it’s path and spilled right under his own ships. And the second the flames touched the other, all any saw was that same horrifying colour.

Barley any had truly seen it in full. Your eyes and Jon’s followed the paths with a sickening unease until it all pooled under the Golden Companies fleet, and in an explosion that overtook the size of the bay surrounding the shores, did nothing but green fire overtake the world.

Burning so bright that upon a second of looking at such an explosion, did all eyes on board fly shut in an agony like looking to the sun. The force of it flew towards your own ships and unsteadily all too close to it. Both you and Jon had turned away as you both grabbed at the other when the winds threatened to knock you both right off your feet. Hands tightly grasping as you both had to wait for the pain of the wildfire’s vision to die off before turning back.

One side of the flames and the other, both leading pairs slowly came back to their feet and turned to the sight before them. Both pairs, all felt the same wave of horror. Burning, screaming, men diving into the water which would as quick boil them alive and others fell from the chaos of having the wildfire blackening their very flesh, burning through the metal of their armour like nothing. The shores settling in flames as the intensity of the wave begun to simmer but the pain was left. Men scrambling to crawl ashore for any reprieve.

Jon had turned to you not taking his hand off your arm, but you held with wide eyes something close to such a monstrosity of horror in your actions in the colours of your eyes. Were you to tear away from the hellish nightmare you lit the waters of your home in, the exact unsettled horror sat deep in Jon’s grey eyes as he forced himself to watch the consequences of what he had done.

Wildfire was said to be the key to the Targaryean power once the terror of their dragons had finally gone extinct, but if this was the cost of using fire to rule? Then you and Jon stood together hoping that this was the last such a substance would ever see the light of day. This was why he insisted you both take such shots. This couldn’t be on one person’s heart, it would crush and suffocate at the darkness of such blood soaking your hands.

But, it was clear. The shores were calling to you and there was no time to consider what kind of monster this had made you. Men coming to you both with questions on their faces of what next, and you gave one last moment to yourself. If fire was what it took to rule the Iron Throne, you’d soon rather see everything it’s corrupting power stood for burned down in one final act and rid the realm of this nightmare for good.

Inhaling deeply, you felt your mind and heart settle just enough to find a voice. “Prepare to land.”

One of the men trying calling to your attention with a hesitancy, but all moved none the less to the side as you and Jon came further in. His eyes dark but steady, not a hint of question or doubt but a growing intensity that felt dutiful as it was serious, but let you be the one to do the talking. He was King, it was his men, his army, and he leads the true fight but not for a second did he consider overstepping that this was still your ship, and thus, your command.

“We’ve played our biggest trick, and they’ll know we can only play it once.”

Pulling your cloak up and off your person, Jon had come to the side of you and both of you secured the last of things, mostly on you, mostly to climb. For the smallest of seconds, as ships all around you awaited the order, you and him looked to the other.

Grey swimming with a beg to make you stay but a confidence that he would survive long enough to come to your aid if it came to it, and yours held something a bit more painful to look at. A shine that was in such a secret, filled with only nerves. And you felt something twist in your heart that he didn’t even know the true extend of why, but it had to be this way.

Leaning the slightest you could feel his warmth, an almost indiscernible nod as he stood right at your side. There was nothing left to say until it was over, one way, or the other.

In an instant, you moved to climb down to the main floor of the deck where the men had all gathered waiting. Each parted as you turned to move through them, your eyes only on the waters ahead. Jon close behind as if a wolf to guard his mate, brows dark and intense in eyes right on your heels. Pulling a rope up and out of your way as you reached the side of the ship.

Grabbing the net and tossing it harshly over the side, you finally turned. A mixture looked to you, as did eyes watching from ships afar. Northerners and Free Folk all looked to you as your chest heaved slightly trying to quell the slamming of a racing heart within. Your voice wasn’t as loud as some could muster, but it was rough, almost on the edge of cracked as it was tinged with an aggressive fury that more then just you needed to hear.

“Come with me and show this dragon what winter brings to his shores,” The men cheered, and you gave no more thought to the nerves within. Only being the first to grab the net and climb over the sides as others on the ships around followed suit. You had one final duty to get Jon and his men to the shores and you wouldn’t do so with worry in your heart anymore. He needed someone beside him better then that.

There were many, too many. More then what he had initially planned for, and Connington felt the dread of what was to come. He lost the last true battle in Westeros as it had the last King exile him for it, and made him fail to protect the Silver Prince. But he repeated in his head the same thing he had for decades now. He failed the father, he could not fail the son.

Yet, as he looked to the wide eyed, slightly mouth agape blue haired boy next to him, Jon Connington couldn’t help but the fear of failing him. Not Rhaegar, not failing him or his memory or his heir. He feared the look in the eyes of a boy once called to him son as Young Griff. If he was afraid, then Connington knew he couldn’t be. Someone had to be there for him, and there was only so much time he had left to be the one to be there for him.

Even if he survived tonight.

Trying to keep his voice loud and steady as a King beside him, “We can’t let them get to the gates.” Blue eyes scouring the lands as he watched the boats come closer and closer, he knew if they got to the front gates it would be a problem, more a problem then they could hold off in a place that had never been his home. He and Connington shared a look, and just as he watched Aegons eyes ask as a boy, what do we do, the man stopped caring for now, what honouring Rhaegar meant. Protect the boy, the boy you’ve spent the past twenty six years by the side of, he told himself.

Connington was loud, with no room for question anywhere in tone. “You lot, with the King at all times and stay here.” Just as Aegon’s face twisted with his voice declaring protest, Connington turned without any more of it to Aegon. Only turned away in command and descended down the winding steps to come in behind the front men and keep the gates guarded himself.

“Let’s go men, it appears Jon Snow is about to start breaking down our doors.” As he passed by Harry Strickland though, an old friend maybe but someone he long trusted in ability, he was less then kind. Shoving him more against the wall and pointing up to where Aegon remained. “If if that Jon Snow hurts a hair on his head, Strickland, I’ll feed you to that wolf King myself you hear me?”

That very wolf King now knelt perched at the front of the boat swiftly making it’s way across the waters, grey eyes narrow and sharp as ever. Looking at any and every sign of life still wandering the shore to handle first. The muscles in his hands and arms tensed greatly as he kept Longclaw out and close, counting only the final few seconds before this battle became his.

Sailing behind him was more men then he ever thought would be at his own command, but now all would follow him with every ounce of trust. Once more finding themselves in a fight behind the blood of a Stark and Baratheon, and rushing into that fight against a Targaryean. Only this time, he didn’t have enough family left to him to lose as his father had, and it only made the blood in Jon run hotter and angrier to see them to a victory.

It didn’t have to be this way and he wish it wasn’t, but he wouldn’t fail now. He refused. It wasn’t about him, or his father, or his family lost. It was about all of them, all of their survival and he needed either Aegon or Connington to understand that. And maybe, he could convince them to find reason to work together.

You were not too far from Jon, hand perched right at the front bow of your own boat, as you barley found it in you to sit, kneel or anything. Slightly braced to rise up the closer shore got, and ready to jump out that very instance as you, opposite of him, kept cold and stoned eyes hardly moving an inch from it’s focus. And it was just what you did, the second your feet could touch land you jumped from the boat as did the rest of them behind.

Men scattered across the seas and sands, soaked in a fire which would not end so swiftly. A glow of green as all you needed to do was get through them and up to the pass. Carved into the lands from an ornate black stone leading paths up to the castle gates, to the side of that pass was the shores untouched by the wildfire set ablaze. Beaches stretching far once once only accessible by carves of rock and jagged mountain sides but too led down by carvings of stone. But it wasn’t there which you would go up.

It wasn’t so much skill by memory, but instinct which led you. The push to fight was good enough to survive as needed, but you knew your fight would not be truly found here. It would be elsewhere, unspoken to many of it’s degree. Your skill with a sword, not quite what it was used too and made you glad moving quick and low meant switching to smaller knives in each hand would service you well enough. The men now, thankfully, followed the one which was their true leader without any hesitation or question, and he was one which put himself in the fighting beside the rest of them. Not something many who call themselves King in these ages held as a virtue. But Jon and Robb both were that King.

As the pass came to view, a number of men came by you to help force open a tall gate seal which blocked the island off from any approaching by sea. Men were soon to follow once it did. Both you and Jon finding yourselves shoving up against the rock of the curtain pass, on one side he and his army, the other, only the sight of you and three behind.

Separating was now or never, but no word passed of it. Looking to you, and painted across his face was the wish he could turn you around now and make you go back. But there was the confidence of Tormund, Ryk, and Theon behind you as it had to be done. Nodding once to you, Jon could only hope the old gods could hear him this far South, asking them to not let this once more be the final time.

A commander, a King, was his orders yelling to his own men, and once he turned back the four of you had already left and slinked into the darkness of the jagged cliff sides. Was it you climbing something so treacherous, as he recalled his time making his way up the wall which scared him, or the fact which this all would end with you facing Aegon one way or another.

Aegon was not his father, and you were not his aunt, but the stories which haunted his family made him feel an intense wave of anger all the same. Perhaps, anger in battle was the one time it suited Jon for the better. That intensity of what he had to do, just to find a way to protect from the horrors none of these Southerners had a clue was coming for them all.

The Golden Company were good foes, but they were sell swords. Bought and paid loyalty, and yet all the men fighting beside The White Wolf, saw him and followed him as the only leader with a care that mattered to them. The Golden Company were still paid for. The North followed something entirely different. One army, a real army. United behind one leader, with one purpose.

The only light between would be here and the very top. Only silence between as well, considering any sound could draw the wrong attention and none of you could climb and defend, you had to trust in your own ability and the others. The four of you knelt to the ground as you all secured your equipment, Theon attached to Ryk as he would take the higher climb of the pair as you and Tormund did the same and he took the lead.

Nodding at you once, you back and between Theon and Ryk as you all looked up. It wouldn’t be easy, and as you all dug the first spike in, that much was made painfully clear. The walls inside the mines were similarly unfriendly but there was no rush nor urgency in such. You could climb at your leisure, whereas now was weighted with only blood at the top.

Only a foot below where his head reached, you and Tormund knew to climb as close to the other as possible, relying on only touch now as the sight was black rock and nothing more. Muffled above and below was yelling and the clash of swords that made you swallow harshly. Slowly you pulled yourself up as to your right was the dual sounds of spikes and shifting that kept your heart only slightly below a racing.

You struggled the most, all three men being far stronger then you to varying degrees. Face twisting in a wince as your muscles screamed to loosen, arms almost in a shake to grab the next spike and get your foot hold secure. Just as you let out only a wavering exhale did you feel Tormund's firm, large hand grabbing at your arm and pulling you just the right amount your lungs could breathe.

Looking would be pointless, but as you stood steady you took what seconds you could to reach up and squeeze what of his arm you could reach all the same.

Tormund was always up for a challenge, and were there little stakes, doing this in pitch black silent of night would have been a fun one to take up, but he didn’t choose to do so beacuse it would be a good push on him. It was interesting to him, finding that he trusted you as much as he’d come to trust Jon despite how much less time he’d spent with you.

Not having the same time many of the rest did, having to slowly adjust to how different things were between how they approached life. You simply accepted the differences and thought none more of it, but you also fought against something fucked up in your head and still pushed on with a real stubborn determination and loyalty.

If the crow weren’t so possessive, Tormund have taken you for himself, he thought. He’d chuckle, but keeping quiet was key and so he simply stabbed the next spike into the wall, and ensured he could both feel you climb at his pace and hear those climbing next to you.

They were far. Far enough up the way that Aegon could see them, see their numbers and the increasing ferocity they came with. The men up at his sides all stood and watched glancing to the other seemingly speaking words he did not hear in the silence of war.

Connington had ordered him to stay and for Strickland to keep him there, but what kind of King did he hope to be doing so? Wasn’t this what he was trained to not be like, a man who let other men do his work for him? He wasn’t raised to be this man. He was raised, well, he wasn’t raised to be the son of Griff was he? That was the child who grew up but now he was seen as only one man’s son.

Would Rhaegar Targaryean stand by idly as other men fought his war for him? He didn’t know. He couldn’t know, and it seemed none knew who the truth of his person was in honest. Many insisted he was a good, charming man but then there were the stories and no amount of good in a man’s heart could make that alright.

Aegon thought little of his mother and sister, maybe, because he wished not to accept it. That they found an end because his father was not there to protect them, but that he left them there to kidnap another. But he was remembered as good, some saying he would’ve been the best King of them all.

If none knew who Rhaegar was, then it was up to no one but Aegon to find the truth of his own character. He had to be his own King, and he had to do it now.

Turning to Strickland, he grabbed him roughly and turned to face him properly. Nodding out to the fighting, “How much longer until they reach the gate? Can your men withstand this much more?”

Strickland thought hard over it, but an unsure tilt of his head came over along with the wave of it on his eyes. “Numbers they got if this keeps up? They’ll be there within the hour.” The two men stood in quiet as others begun to take notice, something trying to form between them in words. “If we call up all of our reinforcements? We might be able to push them back.”

Aegon nodded, glancing to the men around him before closing his eyes. A deep inhale as he found the courage, he couldn’t be a boy anymore. “Men,” His voice louder now, and sounding much more full then it had all night. Turning to them, he looked on with finally something he could feel in his bones rather then guessing his every choice. “Did you come all this way with me to stand by and watch others fight for you?”

The shouts of no, and Aegon felt it rising in his chest as he continued. “Is the leader you want to follow just a boy too afraid to fight his own battles, or did you come here to follow a King?” More murmurs and men closing in to listen. “If they reach those gates, then you won’t have a King to follow, and nothing to be here for, but best you know, their King out there will not show you mercy. He’ll end you just as he did the good, brave men out on the bay. It will be us they kill first, and nothing but cruelty to follow who live. So I ask you, come follow me. Face these Northerners like men. Fight for what we came here for and you won’t die on the soils of Westeros seen as cowards any longer.”

They all looked to him, and he had to be the one to make the call and it was only that of a King which could. Pulling his own blade out, he pointed it out to the fighting ahead. “They say this King in the North is called The White Wolf.” Aegon’s voice finally finding strength to yell, “That makes me The Last Dragon, so let’s show him what dragons are truly made of.”

The men all cheered, and as they followed him down and out to the lands of the castle, they’d come out near the back and make their way around to pass through the great hall and push back this King for good. But as they found themselves in the heavy dark of night outside, Aegon only had two thoughts.

Which father would be angry with this choice, and why did he not know which father he whose opinion it was that he was worried about the most?

They were supposed to check in, report any sights, sounds, unusual activity but as the sights of a dead guard he came across, did this one go to open his mouth and yet what came through was only a swish and then falling flat to the ground.

Aegon’s garden was a somewhat large but confusingly organized area beside the cliff side of floral and fauna and statues that varied from dragons to scorpions. More all winding around paths to various off shoots of castle paths. All four remaining next to silent, Tormund and Ryk following almost in a protective manner as you led and Theon was the silent task getting rid of the problems guarding the way.

There was many ways which you could reach the gates, keeping the castle from the paths of the decrepit woods and villages beyond and it was over the edges of dark shadows and rock sides that you had to cross. You couldn't make your way through the main paths of the castle, there were reinforcements everywhere. Everywhere that would outnumber you, and would be enough to push Jon back at the main gates.

But they wouldn't be once you spotted it. Holding a hand out you paused movements of the men behind you as you perched on a rough rock edge. Only one other here knew these lands as well as you did and it was only him which you had to spot to make sure he was true about this. But you saw.

Another pair of eyes having hidden in the only sorts of dark that ones who lived here would know, you realized that not only did he show up, but you desperately were about to need him. What was supposed to be a gathering of guards to take out to let Stannis's army in quiet, was in fact, a small garrison of men all moving towards the castle with yelling orders of the King, their King.

Aegon Targaryean had led a group of men down from the peak, and was more armed to fight then what four could handle all on your own. But as you and Stannis looked at the other, you couldn’t be more thankful it was your father who was here. Still the one man who you could read silently better then anyone, and in return, he did you as well.

It would only be quiet until you opened the way for your father and his men, but once you did, the armies both around the area and with their King would notice your presence, and suddenly the battle had been split into two.

Connington knew who he was, before having to come close. It was the air of a King that followed him. Armour which fit just as normal as the Northerners around him, and nothing that stood out except for a power in his position that led, and a skill which was like watching the men around him get cut through like nothing. That, and he sure packed a punch by how hard he could hit those who came too close.

Connington could eye the sword, something much fancier then a soul on this island had including Aegon himself, and his voice was a commanding, thick Northern accent if he’s ever heard one. Yet, it was as he came close did he feel something cold within him. He felt like he was seeing a ghost, and despite knowing he was coming, it still startled him. It shouldn’t be this close of a memory this many years on.

Calling out names he didn’t in any way recognize before realizing, it seemed like what he had recalled as wildlings were on his side as well. Turning to what seemed to be his own men as he had the yell of a commander and the authority radiating from him. “North, with me,”

The wildlings held steady at the back with a strength of hold, taking anyone who got through and the Northern army flanking to each side of Jon Snow, who came through the front and fought to cut a line right down the middle and coming right to Connington.

His men tried to push them back, and Snow’s men forced them more and more up to the gate and the closer he got, the more intense behind the sword he became. He had no reason to recognize the man, but he seemed to be smart enough to notice Connington’s eyes more then anything else watching him and his own yell confirming his command. “You can surrender now, Snow. Doesn’t have to end this way.”

But the man moved forward anyways, his voice loud enough to hear but it was dripping with a low rasp that seeped anger through the ground and into the dirt it was so thick. “I didn’t ask for a fight, Connington.”

Coming close, Connington didn’t like the look in his eye. Those eyes in fact, were dark. Almost black as his hair in the night sky looked against the fires around. But he still looked like a ghost. And that ghost had eyes that made the hair on his arms stand on end.

Their swords hit though, and Connington fought back with as much as he was given.

Stannis Baratheon was not a man to be overwhelmed by battle easily. Your small group grabbed their attention from long distance only to be circled around the second you pushed them slightly back and led them right into the blades of your fathers men.

The mixture of the strategy of your father and his bannermen, and the unpredictable movements of two free folk who fought with a blood shedding ferocity that matched closer to Theon. At least some parts of him would never lose that viciousness Greyjoys were known for.

Numbers dragged themselves from the depths of your girlhood home to fight back as the extent of the army which came up behind them drew attention. You had heard him, but you wondered for a moment, if you would be able to tell it was him. There was little to distinguish in the bloodshed if you were of any importance, which one here was a King. You and Stannis blended into your home with ease and it wasn't until you had turned around and sliced through a man close with a sharp dagger did he notice you either.

Only a second passed, but in such a moment did your father make motion to move you behind him as his own sword cut through an attacker with ease, your own almost spinning to adjust and stood more at his own back. Some might doubt you lost sword in your favour of smaller daggers, but your father knew better then most that you could stand with your backs turned and trust what the other did to keep soldiers off.

After all, Stannis knew Jon may have been the one to start the training that mattered most, but he himself was the man who watched you turn from a novice into a fighter he could trust. He taught you the toughest lessons back in the last years of your childhood he treated you like a daughter. Three years ago, you were a traitor to him and now both father and daughter in a battle on their own home, fought for the same cause, and were the ones at the others backs.

And as soon as Stannis spotted the armour, he roughly called your name as you turned. Fierce eyes of green met a pair of blue ones. Blue that matched the dark colour dyed into his long hair but it was the black armour. The red already staining the deep painted red of a three headed dragon. But he cut men down, and so did you only you both went the same direction.

He tried to push his men through the castle to reach the main gates as back up. Looking up to your father he gave the smallest of nods to the wide almost seething tensity in your own. He had told you the truth of what might have to happen, and you knew he was the commander the men out here already fighting needed.

Someone had to go after Aegon and it was you, only the surrender wasn't going to be as easy as any thought. Because Conningtons fears were right, there was grudges held in the two heirs. And it was all too complicated to think of in easy terms, beyond the death that defined both yours and Aegons lives when you were too young to control.

The hall was as empty as it was loud. Dark, only lit by fires along the high walls and the moon and stars shining through the ornate window. Only in the room was the throne considered to be the seat of whomever used to be crowned Prince of Dragonstone but too many years after the family was gone did it go unused. Your father hated conducting business on it, the room of the painted table was which became where all matters were attended too.

Not many lived on the island but those who requested an audience with their Lord, Stannis would stand in front of it as did whomever sat high on his council, but now it was just a room. An empty room that had but one man who goaded you in here.

Both you and Aegon knew that the fight happening just outside the doors was what both of you were aimed at. If Aegon got to the doors first, the fight would only end in nothing but death. If you got there, he lost but none after would die. “Baratheon,”

Aegons voice wasn't loud but it echoed off the high walls as sounds of yelling and clashing metal muffled through both sides of you. In his hands held a sharp, heavy sword and on you two sharp and small blades in each hand as you approached with slow steps.

“You here trying to convince me to surrender?” You stepped forward more, not knowing how long it would take for your father to make it through to this point and you couldn't rely on that. Aegon lifted his own sword more into place as you both came close near the stone throne. “After everything your family did to mine, do you really think I'm going to hand myself over to you?”

Your blood raced and left nothing but muscles tense and strained in each step. Almost as if they were to shake should they be kept dormant any longer. Shaking your head no, your eyes were narrow and a glint of anger matched in his as well.

In your glaring silence, there was something however almost sympathetic in Aegons voice. As if here and now was an inevitability, but not with the vengeance of enemies. More just two people with a desperation the other wouldn't understand. “That Throne is all I have left, your family ruined what was left of mine. You have no idea what that's like. To lose everything like I have, and I won't lose any further. Not to the likes of you.”

But you said nothing, you couldn't gauge what was truth, plead or a ruse and you didn't have the time or men to stand here and find out. And Aegon didn't think he had it either.

His sword came down with strength, you with a knife in each hand blocked and moved with a swiftness that he didn't expect. Was it an even match, you didn't have the mind to figure it out. But you had to be fast as he had to be stronger and you knew by now which one would gain the upper hand. You just had to hold out long enough for those doors to open. By one King from the main doors or another King from your men behind.

This wasn't the Trident, he wasn't Rhaegar and you weren't Robert. But it seemed as if Aegon was giving you no choice but to fight as if it were as such.

Metal clashed and he couldn’t help the thought. He was fighting against a ghost, but it was more then just that. Many times Jon Connington had sparred with Rhaegar, and he knew too well the strength and intensity he could pack behind a swing, which bested him on many occasions.

But his men pushed back by the Northerner army, and his own muscles screaming to keep up with the King in the North, Connington felt a wave of almost fear. Eyes black and anger behind his face there was an intensity that overpowered what he even knew of Rhaegar. Lord Varys had said he was intense, but not to this point. Whatever this Jon Snow was like as a man? War, violence, and blood was where something intense shined through him the best.

Connington could only keep up for so much longer. Jon Snow was more intense then Rhaegar and a better swordsman then Rhaegar but he couldn’t end here. He couldn’t fail again. Aegon couldn’t die here at this man’s hands, he couldn’t. He spent too many years preparing him, spent too many years of his life raising him.

Strange, that he spent all that time looking for the silver prince in his face, eyes, mannerisms, anything. But there was an intensity in the King in the North that reminded him of Rhaegar for the first time since he died, but he was more then Rhaegar, better then Rhaegar. And that scared him.

But even that didn’t quite scare him as much as the ghost in Jon Snow’s face. One that looked just like-

The gates behind him slammed open, and men pooled out at once. Men all of the Golden Company and behind held at threat of Baratheon bannermen, only in the very middle was what drew his attention. The furious yell of woman, “Connington,” twisting him around as the Northerners begun to ease up at Jon’s own silent command.

You had come through the doors, bleeding, bruised and truthfully, in a great deal of pain but so was Aegon. And yet he was the one with a blade to his throat as Jon Connington turned to you with a sudden terror in his eyes, that you didn’t feel good about.

Voice cracked you yelled more strained, “Enough, this is over. We end this now.” He paused for too long, and your eyes were no longer angry, just a plea for reason. You were exhausted and wanted this fight to be over, you never wanted this fight to exist. “You lost the father to one Baratheon, do you really want to lose the son to another?”

He stepped towards you and Aegon, but you pulled the knife closer to his throat as your hands shook in their hold. So strained it genuinely hurt to keep the Targaryean at bay like this.

Jon however, was who he needed to listen too. And he did, there was no anger in his voice or grandiose pleas. Not a King demanding what he wants, just a man asking the truth. “This fight isn’t about us, it isn’t about the Seven Kingdoms. I didn’t want to come here for a fight, I asked for peace. You are not my enemy, and I am not yours.”

Connington turned between both of you, eyes painted over more with something that looked more devastated by the second. You couldn’t see the expression of Aegon, but he no longer felt like he was putting up a fight and you only felt the exhaustion more and more. You wanted no more part in wars of the Seven Kingdoms, you truly didn’t.

You wanted to go home, and Jon did too. Him looking to Connington with earnest. “I don’t have time to stand here and fight a war with you, either of you.” Looking between him and Aegon back, “Winter is coming, and all I ask is you let me protect my people before it gets here. Tell your men to stand down, and so will we. I promise.”

Was it the words he spoke that did it? Or was it the way he looked at Aegon. Beacuse as they looked at the other between, you felt something you hadn’t in a long time. Being pulled away from something a father you would never see again. It didn’t matter who he was to you in blood or not, knife to your throats and dragged away, you never forgot how it felt for you and Eddard Stark to look at the other desperately, for the last time.

You didn’t care about Rhaegar or the Iron Throne or any of Robert’s hatred. You needed one thing and to go home. Protect the people you loved that remained to you. And you suspected, that might be what Jon Connington was about to do.

The two looked at one another, before his face fell. A softness like a father, and tossed his own sword to the ground. Clanging followed, swords and blades dropped as free folk and Northerners all knocked men of the Golden Company down as did your fathers men behind you.

Your eyes met Jons, the exhaustion in his, was tinged with a confusion and worried anger of how you got here looking as rough as you did, but you gave no defiance back. Just a soft ask in your eyes of what to do, and after a nod only you could notice from him, did you pull back.

Slightly shoving Aegon forward as he and Connington went to the other before you almost fell back. The pain at that point keeping you unsteady on your feet, but suddenly an arm that snatched your side, dragged you up.

The soft tone of Theon pulling you onto your feet as he muttered, “Next time you’re about to go up against a dragon alone, maybe tell someone other then just your father about it first.”

You would’ve laughed if you weren't in too much pain. Once more you found Jon’s eyes, and all you could think was how much you hated Dragonstone. Or anywhere in the Crownlands. Honestly you were starting to think the only place you really did belong was Winterfell.

But looking at Jon, you knew you only belonged in Winterfell anymore if it was with him. The night was not yet over, and much had to be done about the men and the dead, but as Theon kept you up until someone could take a look at you, all you could do was look at Jon with the same thought he had watching you.

Wishing you could just take the other home, and sleep in the others arms. But you had work to do, and the gods refused to give you both a rest. No matter how badly you wanted the other to have it.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

66 notes · View notes

pegasuspony · 2 years

Text

Windy Wisp ♡

#uploadミ★#g3 #kidcore #mlp #my little pony #nostalgiacore #toycore #2000score

1K notes · View notes

tom-is-online · 2 months

Text

PJSK X SONIC SONGS

I got very bored soooooooooo I gave each character a sonic song to rep them cuz bus rides home are boring and i need mental stimulation

LEO / NEED

GROUP THEME : Reach for The Stars - Sonic Colors

ICHIKA HOSHINO : With Me - Sonic and the Black Knight

She would fuck up the guitar so fuckin hard with his shit shed go so hard its unreal Ichika With me cover when

SAKI TENMA : End of Summer - Sonic Runners

Criminally underated sonic ost and the PIANO its just her. If you put this in the bg of one of her events NOBODY would question it.

HONAMI MOCHIZUKI : Windy Hill Zone 1 - Sonic Lost World

She'd have a blasty playing the drums to this I think, she can include the whole band on there theyd love it

SHIHO HINOMORI : Ocean View: Lap Music - Team Sonic Racing

Tell me Shiho wouldnt love this, Shiho has TSR on her switch and plays it with everyone else after practice. Also its a remix of you can do anything and i think Shiho would know this info and sing along. also the bass in some of the areas goes v hard

MORE MORE JUMP

GROUP THEME : Follow me - Theme of Team Rose - Sonic Heroes

MINORI HANASATO : Believe in Myself - Sonic Adventure 2

Minori Hanasato would love Tails the Fox they would be best friends and they would fly so far and so high and they would talk about their fav blue ppl and be best friends.

HARUKA KIRITANI : Quartz Quadrant - "G" MIX - Sonic CD

It's just a very nice song i think she'd like it a lot :) and sometimes thats reason enough

AIRI MOMOI : Tropical Resort Act 2 - Sonic Colors

You could also convince me this is BGM music for the actual game if i didnt know better lmaoo

SHIZUKU HINOMORI : Apotos - Night - Sonic Unleashed

One of the chillest sonic songs and the best chill sonic song and i am going to learn it on my guitar if it kills me. Oh yea also Shizuku would like it i think :p

VIVID BAD SQUAD

GROUP THEME : Escape from the City - Sonic Adventure 2

KOHANE AZASAWA : Look-a-Like - Sonic the Hedgehog OVA

This might not be from the games but I think she'd love this shit, esp this cover of it cuz I say so also the cover just fucks lmao ALT : A New Day - Sonic Rush (she'd like it :]. and VBS would also just love sonic rush in general I think A new day would replace escape from the city if that just wasnt a funny thing for it to be for their theme.)

AN SHIRAISHI : Radical City : Living in The City - Sonic R

I should not have to explain this to you, its radical city what more do you want from me? money? well you cant have it.

AKITO SHINONOME : Find Your Flame - Sonic Fronteirs

Ok so. IDK if this is a hear me out or not but like, read the lyrics and look me in the eyes thats not just him. You can't I will not accept that. ALT - SPEED HIGHWAY CASH CASH REMIX - Sonic Generations

TOYA AOYAGI : RIVAL BATTLE : METAL SONIC - Sonic Generations

It's got Piano, its got electronic. It's like Rad Dogs with extra steps

WONDERLAND X SHOWTIME

GROUP THEME : Friends - Sonic Mania

TSUKASA TENMA : Lights, Camera, Action! - Studiopolis Zone Act 1 - Sonic Mania

Do i need to explain?

EMU OTORI : Palmtree Panic - Sonic CD

"dodododododo! WOOO! YEAHHHH!!!!!" - Emu Otori

NENE KUSANAGI : Join us 4 Happy Time... For Chao Garden - Sonic Adventure

Nene has an ungodly ammount of hours in the chao garden, you cannot convince me otherwise

RUI KAMISHIRO : Hi-Spec Robo Go! - Sonic Mania

Do i need to explain?

NIGHTCORD AT 25:00

GROUP THEME : Dreams of An Absolution - Sonic 06

KANADE YOISAKI : Area Planet Wisp - Sonic Colors

You will now come to find that Sonic X Niigo is. REALLY FUCKING HARD TO DO. LIKE seriously. I just picked some pretty songs so if anyone wants to rb and pick some better ones be my guest lmaoo

MAFUYU ASAHINA : Aquatic Base (Level 1) - Sonic the Hedgehog

Oooooo mystery oooooooo scaryyyy, idk why i picked it it just feels right to me

ENA SHINONOME : Sea Bottom Segue - Sonic Lost World

The vibes are there? do you get the vision?

MIZUKI AKIYAMA : Fly in the Freedom - Sonic Adventure 2

I have no fucking reason for this I just think they would like it a lot and I have no better ideas besides like. Twinkle park??

33 notes · View notes

baby-zakarii · 19 days

Note

holds up baby venti

can i get headcanons for him please :3 i have a hc that he HAS NO CLUE about how to be a kid!! (and he's literally like, 0-2)

(also yes i will flood you with asks for the rest of time :3 /j)

Flood me!! I love getting asks!

I'll give you a few of my random hcs for that lil windy baby :>

Cw: alcohol mention

- walks with a pep in his step. Venti literally cannot walk normally, he always bounces, skips or just floats with the wind. Will crawl in the air when super tiny, freaks out everyone lol

- flabbergasted when he learns that babies can't drink😡 Diluc gives him a sippy cup with some apple juice and is like "pretend this is beer" (he's met with angry wisp noises)

- always eager to try new things due to being clueless about experiencing childhood! Tries playing with toys, playing with Mondstadt children, using pacifiers, bottles etc. He goes as far as mimicking the kids of other species - he acts like baby anemo slimes or flaps his arms like a tiny crystalfly!

- Chirps, whistles and sings; refuses to use his words which leads to many misunderstandings. When confronted about that when big, he'll pout and say that at least he doesn't show people rocks instead of talking (unlike yk... a certain other baby archon)

#ask reply #sfw agere #genshin agere #agere headcanons #venti #agere #age regression #fandom agere #sfw age regression

15 notes · View notes

jorvik-news-daily · 3 months

Text

News

Riders complain of strange wisps leading them to the edge of cliffs in the Hollow woods

Today's Forecast

Mainland

3°c sunny

South hoof

7°c windy

Dino valley

-15°c chance of snow

#sso #sso rp #ssoblr

15 notes · View notes

barry-j-blupjeans · 11 months

Text

Day Three - Myth

There’s something incredibly disconcerting about being able to see your own breath when you breathe out. For someone like Lup, it was always a reminder of where she came from. Cold, windy nights on the street with Taako, hidden in the back alleys of a city that never really went dark, unless you knew where to look. The chill was part of the reason they had moved away. Starting a fresh life somewhere warm had always been the goal.

It didn’t get cold out here. Even in the winter, the lowest it would drop would be the mid-forties. Lup hadn’t seen natural ice in years.

But here she was.

To be completely honest, being a YouTuber wasn’t the hot shit that it was made out to be. To be even more honest, Lup and Taako often put their lives in major jeopardy with the cryptid hunting videos. They had never actually gotten any solid evidence that the cryptids they were looking for existed, but that’s what video editing was for. Instead, the danger came from being out in places like the woods she was in now. Far enough away from town to lose even the shittiest of wifi, deep enough into nature that no one would know where to find her.

They took a lot of measures to make sure they never got separated. And now Lup was out in the woods by herself, with her way too expensive camera and a sweater not heavy enough for the chill that had settled over the area.

And the camera wasn’t even working. It had been static all night, but now it had dissolved into straight nothingness. There was nothing Lup could do to get the view back in focus, or back at all. Maybe if she hadn’t been so focused on it, she would have felt colder. Maybe she would have watched her step more carefully.

Maybe-

There was a flash of red from her left. Lup staggered slightly, then stopped walking. She aimed the camera towards it, just in case. If she was about to get murdered or some shit, then at least they’d have video evidence.

And she’d not be going down without a fight, thanks to the obsessive amount of pocket knives Magnus had given her. They had gotten her out of more than one shitty situation before and she could do it again.

The temperature seemed to drop lower. Just being able to see her breathe was something, but now the cold was starting to seep into her lips and fingers.

Logically, she should stay put. She hadn’t strayed far from where she lost track of Taako. Or Taako lost track of her, or whatever. But there was a dread creeping up her throat that had started with the static and increased with the chill. If it came down to fight or flight, she couldn’t exactly choose the latter and leave Taako behind.

And it was only when the screen of her camera cracked into shards that Lup realized. Oh.

Fuck.

Despite doing this for several years, they never really encountered a cryptid before. Like, duh. It’s not like they exist. If the Mothman was real, someone deffo would have gotten that guy on camera. If Bigfoot was out there somewhere, he’d probably be trying to buy some fuckin’ Air Jordans or something. If the Red Robe existed, then he would have been recorded already. The flimsy excuse of him “breaking cameras” was supposed to have been a convenient sidestep.

But here she was. Cameraless, freezing, and stuck staring at the red, hooded figure emerging from the trees.

He was fucking terrifying. Where there should have been a face beneath his hood, there was a curling ball of static that dripped down his chest. What could have been hands looked more like inky black claws, curved and pointed, much like the dozens of pocket knives Lup had on her. Past his knees, the robe began to fade away, leaving a wisp behind him, tangled up in static and empty air.

It was horrifying. But when he spoke—

When he spoke, Lup figured that the most awful part of it all was the ache in her chest.

“Lup,” he said, in what might have been some sort of twisted joy or disbelief. “Lup, you came back.”

Fight or flight, baby. And Lup was all out of flight.

She pulled the pocket knife out of her sleeve.

#blupjeansweek2023 #blupjeans #barry bluejeans #lup #taz #taz balance #mine #ise cube writing #this was the first one i wrote for this week :O #u figure out the rest of the universe bc idk #i just work here

57 notes · View notes

bonefall · 6 months

Note

decided to try my hand at some oc clanmew translations because i think it's fun :3c i have more but here are the ones that are either my favorites character-wise or took some thought!

STAR HIVESWARM - shai ffawsbabfsfsafen

star bee-home swarmed. there's no word for a hive in term of bugs, so i just shoved ffaws with the first part of babipanna to make hive. She's called hiveswarm because her gray ticked fur looks like a swarm of bugs and she was overwhelmed with many things as a warrior and deputy, swarmed with them

ISOPODSPOTS- booiwoowoo

rollypolly-spotting. Isopodspots is white with black spotting like a dairy cow isopod! He's in star hive's clan, which has an abundance of bug names

booiwoowoo is really fun to say.

BLUEFLOWER - luparponma

blue flower... hers is very simple but i like her. she was named for her blue eyes, bluish grey parts of her dilute calico patterning, and for her knowledge of medical flowers as a medicine cat. If her clan knew what lotuses were she'd be bluelotus (blue water-flower?) instead. a very straightforward name, but as a character she's far from straightforward!

STAR BREEZESONG - shai hraa'ahwuosoon.

star breeze wind-whistling. i would have used the singing verb, but I thought the hypothetical literal "song" the wind sings would be fitting for her name instead. she wasn't named breezesong for any super specific reason in particular but i imagine she may have been born on a particularly windy day, or maybe her fur flows in a specific way akin to a breeze

HOUNDSNIPE - bayaokikaboohafefyl

large hound-wader-bird. her name is a joke about guns since the character she's based on uses guns as her main weapon, but uses the name of a wading bird! as for why the hound prefix... she looks somewhat doglike, being large with black and white markings and having huge paws, teeth and distinctively pointed ears. she's breezesong's sister. breezesong looks like a normal cat

JUNGLEHOPE - papayaogshaba

steady rain-forest-prayer. jungles and rainforests would probably be synonymous to warrior cats since they don't know a lot about em, and i'd imagine a prayer to starclan is similar to hoping!

SPLINTERFLOOD - boekarkworrl

a lot-broken piece-flood. the clanmew word for splinter, as in the piece of wood or thorn that gets stuck in your paw pad, isn't what i imagined for splinterflood's name. splinter as in the verb, splinter as in breaking into many small pieces. he's flooded by the splinters in his namesake, parts of himself. his old name was floodheart, but he changed it to splinterflood, then eventually splinterheart again. (worrlbabun, boekarkbabun) he's indecisive and also very dramatic, almost like cat the shakespeare

MOTHFLARE - ffyyfyn

moth-flame, her name is an honor title! she survived major burns as an apprentice from a forest fire that occurred during a battle with a warring clan, and when she recovered she was granted her honor title. she's also a sorta charcoal black color, with long fur that wisps like a flame

ffyyfyn is a very nice coincidence of a name. it's very pleasant sounding

very nervous to send this but who cares i'm having fun it's clanmew time. i love better bones it's super cool

No need to be nervous! These names are all great! Booiwoowoo my beloved!

I'm going to give you words for homes that insects construct. I AM GOING TO BE POSTING IMAGES BELOW THE CUT. So here's a Trypophobia warning!

There's BEES down there, and SPIDERS, and HOLES. And weird plant tumor things called galls. Basically, bugs are adorable but they are also horrorshows who bend nature to their little leggy whims.

A home that an insect constructs is a Kin. Kin is also a word with many meanings in Clanmew. It can mean...

An insect's home

A clay pot with only a small opening

A strange object

A belonging of someone, especially an object that has special value to that person; a prized possession

A hole with a biting animal in it

Something that someone will fight you for; something you may have to fight to keep

There's a LOT of words for specific Kin.

Large, flat web = Yyb

Cobweb = Feep

Gall/Bauble = Kichaw

Honeycomb = Mlogur

Hive = Skib

Anthill = Shein

Yellow Meadow Anthill = Eebo

Large, flat webs = Yyb

The sorts of webs made by orbweavers, hanging straight downwards. Big, strong, and sticky. Word can also mean that something is vertical-- perpendicular to the ground.

Cobweb = Feep

NOT made of dust. Cobwebs are formed first by cob spiders, and then dust can settle on them in a house after they've been abandoned, damaging them beyond use.

In Clanmew, a cobweb is a fuzzy, 3D web with an odd structure. It can describe any spiderweb that doesn't have the "classic" flat shape, like the webs you may see in your cellar or the corner of your house.

Gall/Bauble = Kissaw

These are ALL galls that Clan cats can find on oak trees alone. They're specialized growths that certain types of wasps and flies can force the tree to grow into, to protect and feed a larvae before it pupates.

The word can mean gall, or it can refer to any interesting little natural object or adornment. Clan cats also can't always tell these apart from blights, chawb, so the word tends to be applied to useful galls (ink can be made from one type) or ones that are particularly interesting.

Honeycomb = Mlogur

SPECIFICALLY the hives of honeybees. Cartoons lie to you; honeybees do not create the grayish, papery hives that wasps and hornets do. A mlogur is yellow, droopy, and sometimes drips with honey.

And they're VERY important. Honey is one of the best natural antiseptics in the entire world, INVALUABLE for treating wounds. The wax can also be repurposed into all sorts of useful things, and even the larvae can be eaten.

Hive = Skib

EXACTLY what you usually imagine when you hear 'hive.' A nest of stinging bees, wasps, and hornets; but NOT honeybees.

Dangerous and useless. Clan cats avoid these at all costs; nothing good comes from messing with them.

Anthill = Shein

The hilly, bare structures that 3/4 of the ant species they encounter create.

Yellow Meadow Anthill = Eebo

A term mostly used by WindClan! At first glance, one may think these are strange little natural landmarks, but in reality, they're actually colonies of yellow meadow ants. After they build their homes, grass comes up to cover the structure.

Sometimes WindClan apprentices like to play hopping games with these, seeing how many they can successfully bounce over without stopping.

#Clanmew #Insects #Hives #anthills #tw trypophobia #Spiders

41 notes · View notes

quiet-flower-wonderlings · 1 year

Text

୧ *·˚ ❝ Starter for @living-gems-of-treelight┆↰

Quildalótien came the cries on infants among the roaring waves and rough. She didn’t know why she came along this way – when it was clear she should have accepted Eönwë’s offer to take her back to Valinor.

Afterall she has survived her punishment more than anyone after following her abusive ex-betrothed Turkafinwë here – she even gained back her powers Manwë stripped them off her – proving more than ever she was not tainted by oath or evil.

She coughed making her way though the rough and dangerous cliffsides – it was too windy for her to grow her wings and fly – her wings were no where near as strong as the herald’s wings. She slipped once or twice – but eventually made towards a blinding light and making her shut her eyes. Moisture collected on her eyes and she tried to adjust her eyes to sudden glow of light.

The crying made from the light – or she stepped closer, slowly and cautiously. Quildalótien gasped in shock and amazement seeing three different lights shine brightly, she wondered by she did not see it before. But what was even more surprising was the fact the light came from three different children – crying out in a feeling she knew all too well. . .

Quildalótien sighed and sat beside them, her hair dangling just above them – with a shaky breath she looked down them and then do her hands. With a deep breath she weaved her magic through her fingers with a low and soft hum - gracefully and slowly going through the motions as wisps of magic spill from her hands and weave between her fingers into the air, petals of roses and sparks of what appeared to Starlight danced above the three children – Quildalótien hoped it would be enough to make them at least stop crying, who knows how long they have been out here and while she was no expert in motherhood she knew crying at this rate was terrible for them.

#living-gems-of-treelight #starter #rp starter #rping

90 notes · View notes

hisuianhellion · 4 months

Text

Show Your Resolve - ARCHIVED RP with @fungalpieceofshit

Content Warning - Violence, Blood, Injury (Trainer and Pokemon).

Snow did not normally fall on the Cobalt Coastlands. It wasn't that chilly here. It wasn't even all that windy. The cloud cover that had formed seemed to swirl perfectly around the moon, showing off its eerie glow that put a spotlight upon the land. One specific location in the Coastlands. A cove. One Rose had mentioned going to upon her blog. One that Mutt knew held the spirit relishing its newfound freedom.

Lucien was on edge. His eyes were focused forward, peering unblinkingly on the path. He had Mutt on his back, the Luxray's training allowing the Jackal to stay comfortable for the long trek as he kept a brisk pace heading down the path. He seemed to have Rose's scent, and he was on it immediately. Barry, on the other hand... seemed tense. He wasn't being playful. He wasn't being sassy or defensive. He looked uncharacteristically more and more scared as they approached. Like he was sensing something more and more wrong.

And eventually... they saw the why.

The Zoroark, grinning maniacally. Standing straight, towering over the entire area. Arms outstretched... and showing the blood dripping from its side and cheeks. How it was still alive was incredible, but... it looked black. Corrupted. Vile in a way that wouldn't normally be seen from a living being's body. Rose's phone was thrown off to the side and Todd was cowering off to the side. He took note of Mutt, and yipped in desperate relief.

Which caused a snap of the Zoroark's head. An audible snap, cracked back to look at Mutt directly, which made Barry shudder and back up faintly in terror as Lucien snarled.

-------------------------------------------

The lack of Pokémon the closer they got- no Aipom, no Glameow, no Mothim, nothing- was almost more unsettling than the unnatural chill. Almost. The cold and snow confirmed Mutt's suspicions the closer they got, threatening to cut all the way through his clothes. He was reminded of one brutal winter back home, one where folks he'd been roughing with had failed to wake up when the sun went down.

One could only hope the being responsible didn't choose to really let it plummet.

There was no hope of being discreet once Todd saw them, crying out in relief at seeing familiar faces. So he called back. "Todd! Zoroark!!" He gently patted at Lucien's side. Thank you, buddy. I can take it from here. And off he slid, feet hitting the cold wet ground with barely a reaction from him. Necks weren't supposed to twist like that.

He still didn't know what would convince this spirit to release his friend. But he would have to try.

-------------------------------------------

Todd mewled, standing up from their curled up position to try and run over. But the shadow underneath of them reached up to grasp at his form with red wisps, dragging him back and pinning him down to the ground with a strangled yelp. Ghost type moves weren't supposed to affect him, how was--

The Zoroark's body twisted in turn to match the neck before lunging forward, jaws agape. A guttural roar, as deep as any Alpha's, shook the entire cove as their claws immediately shimmered with a sickly red energy. It wasn't normal Ghost typing. It almost seemed Dark. Or even worse, something that transcended types entirely.

Lucien did not care. He reacted quickly. He reacted decisively. He knew this was Rose, but there was nothing stopping this from becoming a problem. So right in front of her friend stepped the Luxray, his fangs flaring with darkness of their own. Crunch.

And it landed. Audibly. Sickeningly. The crack was heard throughout the cove just as the roar had, and even Lucien winced at it, letting go. He hadn't intended to--

"SYL--" Barry had noticed it right before it could happen. It was a feint. Meant to exploit the bond they had. Evil. Because the shadows nearly came right up to grasp onto the second-guessing Luxray. But blessedly... there was a Sylveon to yank him out of the way, panting in a mixture of anger and terror while black blood dribbled from the newly wounded Zoroark's claw.

-------------------------------------------

These weren't moves. They had no typing. This was the Zoroark acting of their own power, their own rage.

He'd been meaning to dodge before Lucien decided to fall for the feint, and Barry yanked him back. Good job, Barry. If they could avoid being caught, they could avoid getting hurt- and hopefully hurting Rose any further.

Mutt stood his ground. "I'm not here to fight you. I'm just here to get Rose and Todd back."

-------------------------------------------

The moment he said this... there was a Zoroark in his face, grin creasing upwards in a horrifying cheshire stare. The fangs curled upwards in a way that warped the very conception of how skin was supposed to stretch, and opened its mouth. Without using its jaws... it spoke.

"No. They belong to me."

Fangs met with cloth, fur and skin. Jaws large enough to cover an entire shoulder, clamped right down and gripping hard enough to potentially even reach bone. But there was a moment of shock. Just enough for Mutt to react before lasting damage could've been done, their bite... losing its strength.

They didn't QUITE expect to be biting into a walking, breathing amalgamation of mold. It was enough to stun someone who, for the first time in ages, could actually have genuine sensation. And this one was vile.

-------------------------------------------

In that moment, Zoroark learned something only a few had any reason to know.

He was mostly mold. Vile, death-tasting stuff, the kind of thing you immediately wanted to rinse out of your mouth with the strongest alcohol you could find. Sure, he let out a YELP of pain and staggered a bit. His eyes glazed in a way that spoke of seeing stars dance across your vision.

Then experience fighting creatures so much bigger and more revolting than he ever could be kicked in. He gripped at fur and skin- one hand on the shoulder, one in the fur on Zororark's chest- and a leg in just the right spot. And he threw them down. Hard. He might not knock the wind out of the being but they would be Down, and off their feet, and he could stay on top and prevent them from hurting anyone else.

He had kinda warned Rose some of this would hurt.

-------------------------------------------

Hurt it did. There was a much more genuine strangle of a yelp as they collided from the ground, snarling out with harsh waves of power. How DARE this pathetic creature?! It coughed, spit out some of the blood and let its eyes immediately flare for a moment longer as they tried to squirm. They weren't a physically adept fighter... but there was something they had that the Jackal didn't.

Malicious intent.

The grin began to extend once more, and the wisps upon its body flared brightly with a bitter cold that violently began to whip around Mutt's body. And this time, it was Lucien's turn to save someone, tackling Mutt off of the fox. And thus becoming the new target.

Energy whipped around the Luxray, curling around and lapping at his body. Sores began opening bit by bit along his flesh, and by the time he landed back on the ground from the momentum in front of Mutt? The large cat was now violently shuddering. Blood dripped from sores all along his body, and there was something very wrong... frost was nipping at his body, and his breathing was haggard and weaker. That attack... was cold. Both in its afflictions and its intent. And Lucien was not doing very well in such a state.

The Zoroark's legs straightened up, feet planted... and they simply willed themself upright, an uncanny curve upwards to hunch forward, roaring out harshly. Right as Barry slammed a beam of dazzling energy into the less injured side of the Zoroark's body, shuddering with tears flowing down his face. Barking out some rather choice sounds, it seemed like he was reaching his limit of patience, and fear was bleeding further and further into anger.

... when did that stone get here...? Right beside Mutt, knocked loose from his pack after Lucien's impact... what was that? An orb of sorts? It... felt warm to be beside it...

-------------------------------------------

Mutt had zero chance to say anything before Lucien tackled him to safety. He barely let out a "NO-" before realizing his lungs were devoid of air and going into a coughing fit. And that's when he felt it. The warmth. The nudge against the smooth white stone that had fallen out on impact and which he now looked at, stupefied, as Barry began to choose violence.

Everything clicked. It felt like several minutes to him but the realization took fractions of a second for everyone around him- Truth had invited itself along. And it was not happy to have its human under duress. Reshiram wanted Rose back, too, they just had the muscle to actually do it... once Mutt got them close enough.

He put a bloodied hand on the stone, mumbling something like an apology at dirtying its surface, and picked it up. He'd get them close enough. Up he got. Up came the stone.

And towards the Zoroark he went once again. "OI."

-------------------------------------------

Barry was trying his best to hold his own. He was Rose's strongest. He was Rose's smartest. Her partner alongside Nanami. Someone who truly understood her on a level others couldn't. He loved her. And this monster was taking her from him! He needed to do something! ANYTHING! And all he could do was keep himself alive while Mutt did something! Lucien was struggling to breathe from that bad of an attack, but he was still standing, gritting his fangs to endure the pain.

The stone flared with blue flames in Mutt's hand. It did not hurt. It actively felt comforting to hold, even. And as he dashed forward, Barry took a claw straight to his side. It went deep enough to cause damage. But it didn't go deep enough, the Sylveon glaring up with a bark of anger, ribbons ensnaring the fox's arms. They grabbed. They clung on with their fangs. They pulled to make sure the Zoroark would stay still just long enough. And right before another flare-up could coat the Fairy in malicious anger?

Three spots all on the Zoroark's body flared. Blue flame gripped right on, a strangled SCREECH of agony shouting out from the beings mouth. The side that had been ripped apart. The cheeks. And their mangled hand, all sparking with a furious flame. It clung on like a liquid, dripping off as it ensnared the wounds upon its body.

It began to creep up their body, forcing Barry to let go as Mutt kept the stone close enough for the Legendary Dragon's power to work. What felt like minutes dragged on. What felt like an hour ticked on by. Time didn't feel real, hearing that ear-piercing screech... it was almost like Rose herself was letting it out.

By the time it had rendered the being incapable of moving, hitting its knees and collapsing in a writhing heap, its entire body was engulfed, flaming harshly enough that the heat radiated. The stone fell from Mutt's hand almost by accident, bouncing and rolling over for a moment to reach the flaming being...

Upon touching her? It revealed Rose's form had been restored... mostly.

The mask was still upon her face. Her side, with a visible tear in her uniform, was no longer bleeding. It had been cauterized, sealed by the fire to keep her from losing too much blood once the transformation had been halted. But it would need emergency medical attention immediately. Her hand wasn't nearly as badly damaged as once expected, but... there was still a visible bite mark upon it from Lucien's attack.

Todd was right beside her. He heard that screech. And he knew. He knew something had happened. Without anyone expecting it, he was right beside her. He was barking, yipping, squeaking out as many little sounds as he could, tears streaming down his face as he tried to pry the mask off. She was visibly breathing, if barely, curled up as she was, but clearly not awake.

The mask would not move. Todd bit the nose to try and pull it off. It didn't move. Barry grasped with his ribbons. It refused to leave her skin.

They had Rose back now, but... what came next...?

-------------------------------------------

Now, they picked up the pieces. They did damage control.

It was probably futile, but upon realizing the stone had fallen from his hand almost a whole minute ago(?), Mutt tried to help Todd remove the mask. No dice. It was stuck.

His attention promptly went to getting her back to camp, where the Medcorps were waiting, so that he could treat injuries on himself and the 'mons before making their way back. With a gentle click of a button, off she went, teleported by her Arcphone. Good. That's one thing done. He then retrieved the stone where it had fallen on the ground. Still a bit warm.

Now he had two injured Pokemon, a wounded shoulder, and if he stuck around long enough, the local populations would start trickling back in with the threat gone. Pokemon first.

It took multiple Potions to get Lucien to stop bleeding and get his shivering down. Mutt gently held his big kitty head in his lap, praising him for being so brave, before recalling him to his ball. Barry got much the same treatment- even if his wounds weren't as severe, he was bleeding and he was scared. Even gremlins need comfort sometimes.

Then he used one Potion on himself. Just enough to stop the bleeding. He was losing strength in that arm with the pain finally kicking in properly.

He rose his good arm to gesture Todd over, and gently embraced him. "It's okay. It's over. We're gonna be okay. Let's go home."

#blood cw #injury cw #pokemon injury #violence cw #malformed malice #rosy recountings #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon roleplay #pokemon rp

8 notes · View notes

septemberrie · 9 months

Text

kiss prompt - Saul x Andreas

for my anon that asked for Saundreas kiss prompts #10; 22; 26; 28; 33; 35 (desperately, in a rush of adrenaline, as an apology, as a lie, forceful, to gain something). Kissing you back, hope you enjoy 💕

The darkness is deep enough it resembles like a chasm, a void, despite Saul's other senses screaming otherwise. His feet, scrambling over scattered cobbles. His nose, overwhelmed with the scent of metal, dank, and blood. His ribs, bruised by the rough, stony surface of the wall and his lungs, ripped of air from the force with which Andreas hurls him, bodily, into the concrete.

He braces himself for the bite of steel but it doesn't come; instead Saul hits the floor hard enough that he has to hack in the gasp of precious air. When he looks up the darkness breaks enough for him to spy the white-hot flash of a sword hissing through the air—a sword, and two eyes burning like coals in a poisoned hearth, and a wisp of blond hair.

"Andreas!" He shoves himself up onto hands and knees, consumed with one thought and one thought only: keep him off Sky. "Andreas, wake up!"

He's wasting breath he can't spare—he's seen this before, he knows what it means when someone's locked in the blood thrall—but he says it anyway. From the first moment they met he's always given Andreas too much: too much credit, too much faith, too much of he, himself, Saul.

The clangs of metal on stone and more metal assault his ears above his own croaking breath; the harsh scrape of the steel against the carbon fiber armor as he stumbles to his feet. It's not like Andreas can hear him, anyway. And yet the fool in Saul Silva tries one more time.

"Andreas!"

It works. When Saul's fingers close around Andreas' shoulder, wrenching his swordarm away from the choking Sky to face him instead, the glaring embers flicker at him and then dull. Andreas' brow softens from iron to muddle—and then ices over again, the eyes once more flaring with vacant, aimless wrath.

Sky's coughing gasps imbue Saul with enough strength to heave his momentum against his opponent, and coupled with Andreas' momentary confusion, it's enough to send both men toppling to the ground. Andreas grunts as he hits the cobblestones first, his head smacking audibly against the harsh surface with Saul on top of him.

Andreas blinks. Time freezes. His jaw works, then his tongue, wetting his lips, forcing out a trickle of blood.

"Saul?"

This close, Saul can see the green eyes he remembers. This close, he can see the crimson moss around the pupils, growing and fading as Andreas slips in and out of consciousness.

This close, he knows his choice.

"You'll be okay," he lies, and drops his head downward towards Andreas' mouth. "I have to keep Sky safe."

Andreas' lips are chapped and yet slick with blood. He wishes the taste wasn't so familiar. He wishes he'd done it this way the first time. He wishes Andreas hadn't made his choice for him on that windy hillside two decades ago.

He kisses him harder, feeling Andreas' mouth open further, the flush of bemused gasps against his cheeks. Hands on his back that aren't his.

Saul draws the knife. He presses it above Andreas' left breast, and he drives it downward.

#fate the winx saga #saul x andreas #saundreas #my writing #fate ask games #ask games #kiss prompts

14 notes · View notes

moider-time · 2 years

Text

Khonshu, on a windy day: Ah I can feel the wind blowing through my hair.

Steven: Hair? You mean your wisps?

Khonshu:

Khonshu: I swear to Ra-

#moon knight #moon knight 2022 #moon knight incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #steven grant #khonshu #i feel like taking the piss out of khonshu is steven's favourite pastime #like it never fails to cheer him up

189 notes · View notes

hccn-overseer · 7 months

Text

Issue 23, 9/21/2023 - The Overseer

Issue Masterpost About the Overseer

Weekly Weather Report

By Lydia

Temperatures are represented using Celsius. Sorry, Americans!

Wednesday: Temperatures will reach a high of 21 degrees and a low of 15 degrees. It will be slightly windy and mostly sunny, with wind speeds of 15 miles per hour.

Thursday: Temperatures will reach a high of 24 degrees and a low of 13 degrees. Winds will be slow with a speed of 2 miles per hour. It will be mostly cloudy with occasional shockwaves tearing through the sky, causing clouds to be torn apart and scattered.

Friday: Temperatures will reach a high of 30 degrees and a low of 20 degrees. Skies will be mostly cloudy with expectations to clear up in the afternoon.

Saturday: Temperatures will reach a high of 32 degrees and a low of 23 degrees. Skies will be mostly clear with windy conditions reaching 25 miles per hour.

Sunday: Temperatures will reach a high of 27 degrees and a low of 18 degrees. Skies will be rainy throughout the afternoon but clear up quickly. Gusts of hot air will blow through the server, accompanied by occasional wisps of flames.

Monday: Temperatures will reach a high of 29 degrees and a low of 16 degrees. Skies will be cloudy throughout the entire day with higher humidity today than throughout the rest of the week, making the air feel more like 35 degrees most of the day.

Tuesday: Temperatures will reach a high of 32 degrees and a low of 25 degrees. Dust storms will be prevalent throughout the day and skies will be sunny.

Wednesday: Temperatures will reach a high of 30 degrees and a low of 22 degrees. Skies will remain sunny throughout the entire day with low wind speeds. Clouds in the shape of spiderwebs will be scattered throughout the sky.

Now onto other news under the cut!

Astrology Corner: DeckedOutScopes

By Corundumcat

Have you been feeling without guidance? Do you look at your birthday, look up your star sign, and wonder, “Will I immediately be eaten by Tango’s Cough or Pumpkin” “Am I going to embrace my inner Ethoslab Season 1?” Don’t worry, here at The Overseer, we can help you.*

Aries: You will max out clank and dance around all of the problems and chaos in the ✨dungeon✨.

Taurus: You are an unpaid worker who has found some great friends, and while this will look great on your resume, it’s not the same as volunteering at music festival, is it?

Gemini: You, like your namesake, are really excited to play. HOWEVER, unlike your namesake, you do not venture in as you like the waiting room.

Cancer: You got to meet Mrs. Tango in your last run… let’s just say she didn’t like you.

Leo: You are in charge of naming pet ravagers and you were asked if you could name it Tango’s Hug. You were confused, so you did. (They paid in frost embers).

Virgo: You are the actor in the dark room who gets to congratulate the successful runners.

Libra: You are trying to adopt Pumpkin.

Scorpio: You are there as the person who hugs the friends who were unsuccessful and got taken by Tango’s Cough.

Sagittarius: You have a custom Decked Outfit and are trying to win the fashion contest.

Capricorn: You are the mad lads who are doing the spreadsheet analysing everyone’s scores

Aquarius: You listen to “Better When I’m Dancing” whilst running the dungeon.

Pisces: You are going to end up on the news channel for starting with the hardest difficulty and doing really well.

All star signs: come by my cryptids corner if you have the chance.

*Ignore how blatantly specific these are. Nothing bad will happen to you. You just may get a tad lost

Lost and Found

By Lydia

All of the following items have been brought to The Overseer staff’s office for safekeeping until they are claimed. If you recognize one of these items as yours, please visit us to receive your items, or contact us at [email protected]. Lost items will be sent to Twinkly Trash if not picked up after two weeks. Thank you! *Not a real email address.

Item 1: A heavy backpack full of amethyst This backpack is dyed a bright orange with blue accents and is filled with two stacks of amethyst. Basic diamond mining tools were also found inside the pack, along with three stacks of torches.

Item 2: A necklace of animal teeth This necklace appears to be made out of the teeth of several Ravagers and is painted with intricate spiraled patterns.

Item 3: A pile of shoelaces with frayed ends These shoelaces appear to have been made a few years ago and were found in a small pouch. They come in several bright colors and are very short, as if they were made for children’s sneakers. There were no aglets on these shoelaces and the ends are very frayed.

Item 4: A box of pavement chalk This box of chalk was found in the Shopping District next to a series of chalk drawings lining the paths. These drawings resemble large chasms, out of which are bursting colorful lightning bolts. There are also several circles, inside of which are written, “Bad Luck Spot.”

Item 5: A pack of playing cards This pack of cards was found near Grian’s rocks and is designed with characters from several 1980s arcade games. They were found scattered in the area.

Item 6: A necklace with a locket This was found in the woods and gave the finder an electric shock when they attempted to open it. There is a distant ticking sound coming from it and an engraving on the back, written in galactic. Half of the engraving is scratched off. The finder suggests taking it as far as possible or finding a way to destroy it completely.

Item 7: A set of tools and weapons in an overgrown box This set includes a sword with Riptide 3, an axe with Feather Falling 2, a pickaxe with Blast Protection 3, a bow with Thorns 5, a shovel with Aqua Affinity, a fishing rod with Flame, and shears with Swift Sneak 3 and Soul Speed 2.

Item 8: A life-sized crocheted office printer plush Stuffed with cotton, it is scented like that of a fresh book. The finder believes whoever made this took “Your workplace is your home,” quite literally.

Item 9: A shipment of merchandise to be released This was found via a motorcycle delivery driver crashing into someone’s garden. The items include subtly designed Warden hoodies, frosty mugs resembling frozen shards, Collector’s Edition Decked Out 2 Cards, relic charms, and two dozen shirts that say, “I survived the burning dark and all I got was this lousy t-shirt,” with one of the dozen being colored to resemble a Ravager and the other colored like that of a Warden. The apparels are made with moderately thick fabric, making them ideal for both warm and cool weather.

Item 10: An indestructible 25-ounce goose-shaped mug This goose-shaped mug depicts the goose’s neck as the handle. It says, “FLIGHT, FRIGHT, FIGHT!” in the font of Another Danger by The Branded Quotes, written in vibrant red letters. It has Unbreaking 5 and Mending. It has been dropped eight times on the finder’s way to the office and not a single chip or dent has formed.

Fun and Games

This week's fun and games are once again brought to you by Lydia and Azure!

Word Search and Crossword by Lydia

Brain Teasers by Azure

And that's all for this week folks! Have a wonderful week y'all!

#issue #hermitcitizen #hccn weather #hccn astrology corner #hccn lost and found #hccn fun and games

14 notes · View notes

slightlycrunchy · 2 years

Text

If you follow me for the Dadmight, could I ask for your help?

Recently I’ve been going through some pretty heavy personal and familial stuff, and in the process my writing muscles have grown weary. I haven’t flexed them in weeks and beginning again is hard, and finding the motivation even harder. I have a few wips currently going that I really love but as they sit quietly in my Google docs, they don’t garner any desire in me to work on them, and so I find myself here:

Will you read an excerpt of this fic and give me some of your time? At the end, I will ask you but a few simple questions. Thank you so much 💛

Dadmight, vague fantasy setting, small Izuku. Wingfic. Hurt/comfort.

The sun is bright, the day mild as Toshinori walks down the lane, dust kicking up beneath his feet.

Spring has been wet so far, showers shortening his afternoons and driving him indoors more often than not, but the last two days have been windy and dry, the dirt finally beginning to loose itself from the mud that has caked the villager’s shoes for weeks on end.

Blue eyes look up to the sky, to the thin wisps of cloud that dominate his view, racing along as if they have anywhere to be when their job is simply to exist. He feels he relates to them in some way, and for once this doesn’t cause him to recoil at his own thoughts, only to exist. Taking in a deep breath of loam, filling his lungs with the life of it, he turns right, following the simple foot path that takes him to a patch of garden he claimed for himself years ago. He can see the tips of plants, stair stepping at the horizon before he rounds the stone fence, the petals of his sunflowers pointing mightily towards the heat of the sun, following it with their golden heads.

They sprouted early this year and Toshinori knows not why; he has an affinity for the things of the earth, but he doesn’t necessarily know the ins-and-outs of it all, the why’s and how’s. It doesn’t keep him up at night, however.

Stepping into the cordoned-off space, making sure to not trample the bulbs of onion and greens that have begun to sprout, Toshinori closes the wooden gate behind him. It hardly comes up to his hips, he could step over it if he wished, though he’s never tried. He likes the meaning in walking through it, the marking of one task to the next, the flimsy gate holding fast against the outside world. The garden is Toshinori’s safe space, his comfort. Digging his hands into the dirt brings him a peace he can’t find anywhere else and he hoards it like treasure to his heart, guarding it with a ferocity he doesn’t spare much else anymore.

As Toshinori savors the feel of the sun on his skin he wanders the crooked edges of his garden, with carefully packed stones just to his left as he makes his way towards the south end of the plot, a small, ramshackle shed holding the supplies he needs; a tiller, a spade—his favorite hat he left by accident yesterday. He will need that today, having no desire for the skin of his neck to be pink by mid-afternoon.

The door creaks as he enters, the dirt floor littered with remnants of straw and mulch rustling beneath his feet as he lets the sun behind him light his way. The space isn’t large by any means, certainly not tall enough by Toshinori’s standards, though he has grown to expect that. Being approximately seven-feet tall isn’t unheard of in the world but it isn’t common either; he’s grown used to the small inconveniences.

He begins to whistle to himself as he rummages through piles of old rags and rusty equipment that he really should take home to sharpen and shine. He places the spade he favors in a loop he crafted into his belt, making it easier to grab when he needs it. Next, he locates the tiller, a long piece of wood whittled into sharp ends. He worked slowly at it three winters back, when he was yet again left with too much time on his hands. He leans it against the door in wait for him while he turns his eye to finding his hat.

At first, he directs his gaze to where he believes it should be, an old workbench lying in the far corner next to old grain sacks, tools, and the occasional bird dropping scattered across its surface.

He furrows his brow when it isn’t there.

Surely he hasn’t misremembered? He looks back to the door, mentally retracing his steps from the day before, walking across the small room to where he sat for a short break and wiped the sweat from his face after removing his hat. He set it down right next to him, did he not?

He draws closer now, looking under the bench and around it in case a stray gust of wind blew it wayward. When he still doesn’t see it anywhere he scratches absently at his chin and broadens his search.

And that is when he notices it.

Toshinori has a sharp mind and a good memory and given closer inspection to the bags that take up an entire corner of the shed, he does not miss how they have changed. One lies on its side where before it had stood upright like the rest. But this isn’t what truly catches his eye.

The bag is trembling.

Taking a wary stance, Toshinori draws nearer, stepping quietly over the bench to stand just over the fallen sack. This isn’t the first time an animal has found shelter here—squirrels, mice, even once a rather large raccoon have found sanctuary in this place so it isn’t unexpected. He doesn’t want to startle whatever has found a home here, simply hopes to help it move on, not wanting his spare seeds taken as a snack for this unexpected visitor.

The bag trembles and rustles and Toshinori is slow as he grabs it in his hands and begins to lift. He’s surprised to see the tips of feathers poking out at him. This strikes him as unusual.

“It’s alright, I won’t hurt you,” he begins on instinct, letting the low hum of his voice alert his presence as he pulls the bag fully away. “Come out now, come on. Just this way–”

Toshinori drops the bag behind him with a muffled clatter.

Large, tear-filled green eyes stare up at him from behind bony fingers, a frail, thin body curled into the tightest shape it can manage. All cradled behind sparse, iridescent green feathers.

It’s a boy. It’s a winged boy.

Toshinori stands, mouth parted as he stares, speechless. His mind is whirring, taking everything in before him at a rapid pace.

Feathers. An unhealthy, dirtied boy. Fear, etched with abandon across his face and his body. Toshinori steeps in the sight that floods his senses, consisting of small bony ankles and bare feet, tattered rags that substitute for clothing that still somehow manage to swallow him whole.

The little child cowers, pressing himself imperceptibly closer to the wall in an attempt to get away, to disappear into the faded wood behind him. He’s so, so little. His hands are in his mouth now, teeth chewing at filthy fingers in an attempt to calm, to soothe no doubt.

Toshinori does not have children of his own, he only knows the little ones that crowd market days and follow their respective parents like ducklings through daily life. Even with stark cheekbones and a pointed chin, this boy is clearly young—perhaps six? Toshinori supposes it doesn’t matter, either way this child is not where he should be.

Unblinking eyes stare up through shaggy curls that are matted and lank, heavy with dirt. The boy is tense, a wire, ready to snap.

“Hello,” Toshinori breathes. “Hello there, little one. I wasn’t…expecting you.” He winces at the obvious statement. “Would you like to come out? I won’t hurt you.”

As he says this, he backs away, angling his body so that the door is clearly visible. He wears his smile, open but soft as he tries to portray just how little of a threat he could be, what with his thin body that mirrors the boy’s if only a little healthier. It has been a long time since Yagi Toshinori could be considered a physical force to be feared. In his own eyes, anyway.

At this small change of angle, he is able to see further into the protected cave of the boy’s body, made by his wings—wings; Toshinori hasn’t seen wings like this for many long years—held close, domelike, and a slow breath goes out of Toshinori when he sees something familiar, the edges frayed and worn.

His hat, cradled close to the boy’s body.

The child is holding it like it is his last tether. His only friend. Toshinori can see his fingertips go white as he cowers, drawing it closer up to his chin and hiding part of his face behind it. Toshinori can only assume it is for warmth, and something within him, intangible, hurts when he steps backward, lowering himself slowly onto the bench. His height is intimidating to the average adult who technically stands on equal social ground, he can only imagine what it must be to a boy so small and vulnerable.

He sits.

The boy does not move.

New tactics, then.

“It’s a beautiful day outside, the sun is shining. I think I’ll spend some time in the garden until lunchtime.” The boy blinks at him. Toshinori smiles back. “Yes, yes I think I will,” he adds to himself.

And then he proceeds to exit the shed.

He lets a minute drag by, letting it warm itself in the garden soil before speaking once more: “I think I’ll have the rest of that soup for the midday meal, enjoy some of the bread I baked just yesterday. It turned out well, one of my best recipes yet,” he calls over his shoulder, taking his spade into his hand and beginning to fully attack the patches of weeds that have sprouted from the ground.

All of this is true of course, though none of it needs to be said aloud. Not for himself anyway.

This boy is no animal but there are perks to regarding him as a child with animal instinct. Toshinori decides quickly that he will give the boy space, will not press at his boundaries. Perhaps the child will see the offer for what it is, all on his own. Toshinori cannot bear to do nothing, cannot stand by when someone in such need has fallen into his sphere; his heart could not take it, but he can’t fathom forcing the boy from his cocoon of safety.

As he digs his hands into warm earth, feeling it become a part of him as it nudges beneath his fingernails, he continues to speak. He drones on about the seasons and the soil qualities and their differences between here in this plot and the beds around his home, filled with tulips and lilies and more of the sunflowers he has grown to love. He speaks of the repairs he has been accomplishing indoors, stuck with nothing else to do while he waits out the storms that have plagued the valley for weeks.

In between saying such things he wonders just how this boy has survived, possibly forced into the inclement weather with nowhere to take shelter and consequently, Toshinori is relieved for a fleeting moment, his apprehensions fleeting like the clouds above him that the boy is here and has found a place that is dry, in his shed. Of all the places in the world he could have found himself, Toshinori is happy it was here. It is only so sad that the boy should not know his own fortune; he must not see Toshinori as anything but a threat.

The man looks over his shoulder. The doorway stands empty, still.

The hours drive on and Toshinori sweats beneath the sun, mourning his hat. He digs deep holes and plants young seedlings he has carefully cared for, each movement paired with a quick flick of his eyes towards the open door of the shed. He is in wait, as much as he strains to appear nonchalant. All he needs is a single speck of green, of burlap, the dirt-covered clothing that began its life as some color or other that he can no longer parse.

He winces as his side twinges painfully. He will need to stop, soon.

The sun has just passed its peak when he finally sees movement from his periphery.

It begins with fingers slowly curling around the doorframe, followed by a tuft of feathers, crooked around the boy’s shoulder. They flutter gently in the wind, appearing unbearably soft. Shadows dance across the boy’s face as it next appears, eyes wary and unsure.

Toshinori tills at the earth and pulls cumbersome weeds that threaten to choke. He doesn’t look at the boy when he speaks.

“I’m going home, down the lane. I have plenty to eat—to share, should another join me.” He hopes his meaning is not lost, for he knows not how to ask more plainly without scaring the boy away.

Wiping off the dirt from his palms and straightening for the first time in hours, he lets the cracks settle out of his spine, his side spasming once more as he lets out a—thankfully dry—cough. After stretching, he makes his way towards the gate, not latching it behind himself as usual. He then sets his eye towards the dirt path, grass growing to his shins even at the early month.

He does not turn around.

He hopes in his heart. He pleads repeatedly inside his mind that he will not have to turn around and coax the boy out of his hiding place. He is afraid he will have to do so, what with the hints of what this boy has been through written across his body, but—

No.

Footsteps, soft in the sand and dirt, meander their way behind him, but Toshinori still does not turn around. If the child thinks he is subtle, let him. The only thing he desires is for the boy to follow him.

💛💛💛💛💛

Would you take a moment to tell me what you thought and reblog this? The fact is that normally, I would post to ao3 to get some sort of feedback there but I’m nowhere near ready to post this yet and I really do crave some kind of connection if I’m going to keep this fic going. It may just sit in my archives forever, otherwise.

Thank you for your time 💛💛

#dadmight #reblog please #my writing #bnha #my hero acedamia

127 notes · View notes