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What Is Dead Can Never DieAU zombie apocalypse fic with Victarion. I dreamed I was him in this so I had to write it.
They came in waves and it seemed to Victarion they'd never run out. He clung to his shotgun and only stopped to reload sometimes. His companions did the same and none of them spoke. No one had enough breath to speak.
How many hours had it been since they stood here, leaning against a wall and shooting like a robot? Victarion had lost count.
And then they run out of ammunition.
He grabbed an axe and began to hack at the dead. He knew this was the end. They reached them now, and soon he had half a dozen bites. He knew he'd turn into one of them in a few hours, and he was never this tired before, but he kept fighting till the waves finally stopped for a while.
"Get in! Quickly!" Inside the house - an old abandoned hall - there were women and children, and a few exhausted warriors. How long would the doors keep them safe from the dead?
As he collapsed, too tired to stand, a doctor came t
Dreams of a King, Dreams of a KnightSTANNIS
His knight's very presence made him feel more calm and soothed his anger. Davos was not handsome or gallant, but he had always been simple, honest and respectful. And respect was something Stannis desired above all. He never got it from his brothers. Their lack of love had also made him suffer, although he kept saying to himself he didn't care, but it hurt even more how Robert liked to mock him and humiliate him for no reason. He had always been obedient as a younger brother ought to be, and although he didn't like Robert's lifestyle, he tried not to criticize him often - and not when others could hear it. When he was a boy, Robert had been his hero, much as he had been little Renly's hero, long after Stannis was old enough to see his flaws.
And he didn't like to think about Renly. No matter how many times he told himself he didn't kill him, he never dared to ask Melisandre just how she did it. He knew, deep down, that he had a part in it, however unwillingly, and he felt guilt
5:20i went to the forest
to purify my lungs
then i saw the thick
three letter scar
i left in a slender
birch, and wondered how
i could let you poison
another living thing.
moths aren't afraid of pins
till they're stuck to a piece of styrofoam.
hey newton, gravity's flawedi.
starting anew from the flutter
and the sputter of lungs.
a vacant sea filled with feathers
and tumultuous clatter,
ribs in a treacherous pattern
resembling exiting rungs.
i want to wrestle the angels,
your tendency is the ladder.
involved with full indiscretion,
trading lazy for lace.
unspool the curse of the long-
limbs in a languorous flexion
i like the stab of the ankles,
you need the curves intersected.
opting to cull my extents
with trans-dimensional vigor.
spent my dysphoric corrections
on reconnecting lax ends.
lips in a spurious accent
feign a passionate rigor.
i tie myself to the anchor,
you extricate and ascend.
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