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scaldingrage · 4 months
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nightmare
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scaldingrage · 4 months
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hot like Mexico, rejoice
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scaldingrage · 4 months
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⠀ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ
ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴀʀᴍs
⠀ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ
⠀ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴏᴠᴇs ᴛʜᴇ sᴜɴ
⠀ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sᴛᴀʀs
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⠀⠀⠀⠀
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scaldingrage · 4 months
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i don't need a weapon.
i am the weapon myself.
art by veradia
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scaldingrage · 4 months
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𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫‘𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲
Jon reached for the Long Claw, but his fingers wouldn't obey him. For some reason, he couldn't get his sword out of its scabbard.
Then Bowen Marsh stood in front of him, tears running down his cheeks.
– For the Watch.
He poked Jon in the stomach, and when he took his hand away, the dagger remained stuck in the body.
Jon fell to his knees. He felt for the hilt of the dagger and pulled it out. The wound was smoking in the night cold.
– A ghost, – he whispered. A wave of pain swept over him.
"Cut them with the sharp end." When the third dagger struck between the shoulder blades, Jon wheezed and fell face first into the snow. He did not feel the fourth dagger. Only the cold.
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