❝ Oh mercy I implore,                                                           How do you do it,                                                                      I think I’m through it,                                                                      Then I’m back against the wall. ❞           ➳ Independent, Original Character           ➳ ASoIAF, DA, GoT— fantasy based; open to all fandoms           ➳ Para, Gif, Icon friendly           ➳ Experienced, literate mun           ➳ Adult mun, adult account

// Hiatus extended another week. Real life is not cooperating with writing right now, unfortunately. I am terribly sorry my pretties. :( x

// Just a couple more days for lab results to come back. Let's hope it's just the flu and not strep throat. Mun cannot catch a fucking break. :(

I saw a post about flower-beards and i just

             █▐▒░ ;;  That shut the fire-kissed wildling up for a moment; even the free folk realised the danger of what was coming. That was why they united under Mance, too. They have lost some to the cold evil, themselves. She knew these people, she sat wih them, she fed with them. She spoke to them. And now they were worse than dead. “'f he's lost, he's lost. 'tis too late for 'im.” She knew none of her party would be excited to go help the crows, especially in the matters of finding a lost one who might have turnt white long ago. “Now let me go.”

Grenn let out a growl at the woman; not threatening violence, just angry at her response. He looked out to the wilderness that surrounded him and didn't want to believe it. There was no way that he would be lost forever, that it was simply too late as the woman wildling said. A low growl reverberated from his chest as he glared back at her. "It is not too late. I'll find him." The anger made him lose focus, made him act without thinking. He waved his hand at the wildling, dismissively waving it away from both of them. "Get out of here. I'll find him myself!"

He wasn’t as thick as the Crow was. He knew the other was hopelessly lost, the moment he thought he’d pointed North. The free man saw little harm in giving him the correct bearing, as it wouldn’t exactly bring himself to any harm doing it. Grenn would spread his black wings and fly on back home. That was what Viserys wanted. It wasn’t exactly something he wanted, to cross swords with one of them. He very much liked being alive at the moment.

"Dunno who, or what. Just know that they was sleepin’ or quiet all these years, in the Land of Always Winter. Somethin’ changed tho, and now they’re comin’ south. Don’t know what they want, ‘cept to kill everythin’ alive, but I don’t want to be here to find out."

Grenn narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. If it was true that they wanted to get away from the Others, what other course of action did they have? Going south was the only viable way to get away from the north, unless they had boats and were trying to make it across the sea. That idea made grin Grenn, thinking wildlings on the open water as if they could naturally shift from snow to surf. "All of you live up here and have no idea what woke them up, or what they want other than to kill everything?" Grenn found that a little hard to believe, even in his little mind. He let out a grunt as he took a couple steps away from the wildling, looking out to the trees, snow, and endless nothingness.  "Let me guess. You want a piggy back ride back to Castle Black so you can avoid them when they come down. That'd be fun, wouldn't it?" He may not be the smartest brother, but Grenn was able to employ sarcasm here and there--

I am his and he is mine

from this day until the end of my days. 

I don't ship Grenn/Pyp, but ... This is pretty damn adorable.

                        “You are a large black bird, aren’t you?

                       I didn’t think crows could crow so big. Tell me, brother,                                       does the Wall crumble a bit when                                                   you perch atop it?” 

"A large-- crumble--" Of course his broken words referred to food which didn't help him in this conversation. Grenn growled, "That's all you got? Jokes about my size? Maybe, maybe ... Wildlings just don't grow on a diet of snow and ice." Grenn scratched the back of his head. No-- That insult wasn't very insulting at all.

Name: Jonathan Age: ██ Birthday: May 15 Gender: Male Sexuality: The Gay Height: 5’10" URL/URLS: rp, the-aurochs; main, well-- Blog Title: Grenn, The Fluffy Favourite Colour: Red Significant Other: A Man Write something in CAPS: SOMETHING Favourite Band: Garbage Favourite Number: 0 Favourite Beverage: Piña colada Face Claim: Tagging: vicky-greyjoy, jsnuh, knightwithoutbanner, winterfellsnowdrifts

                 He had been ready with a sharp comment —

                 to say that smithing steel was no requirement                  that he should give a half a hell for whatever                  sad tale of woe this black brother might have                  over his crumpled pauldron. Nightwatchmen                  always held themselves a special right, stored                  somewhere in the nobility of the cause that most                  had only taken up for need of circumstance or                  escape or the simple boredom without glory that                  consumes men with stupid ideals like that. Gendry                  was more than ready to spit such at him ———                                                              until he heard that name.

                      Only one boy had ever called him that. Gendry threatened to wallop him no small number of times for the trouble and perhaps he even had once. He couldn’t recall. What he recalled were scraps that felt come from a thousand years ago — whipping stones at seabirds and cutting the foul meat from under their skinny wings to cook over fires in the Alley, stealing the overripe fruits from the branches of trees that hung over the walled gardens on the Street of Silk under the cover of darkness, running, and laughing, when the whores would curse them away when they were caught and their lords and patrons would try to catch them to give a beating for a lesson. Beatings were the only lessons that street urchins were taught in the capital. And only by those that were swift enough to get hands on them before they dispersed like swift little snakes into the cover of the dark.

                              Only Grenn had called him that. The other boys had laughed                               at Grenn and called him slow — he’d a strange stumble in his                               speech that broke his words up. He’d grown out of it. Gendry                               had let him use that nickname only because those other boys                               had called him slow the same way, only because he hated to                               speak to them and always scowled. Grenn had been his friend                               in the nearest way that Gendry ever knew to be a real friend.                               Friend was a rich word — it really meant ‘I’ll watch your back.’

                     But there he was — and all in black. The smith set down his hammer and took a half-step around the stove, those blue eyes squinting in strain against the dark to get a look at him. He couldn’t quite believe it. Black on black in the night but still the same thick neck like he remembered and the same stocky shoulders and the same stupid smile. A rare smile, just as stupid, started on the edge of Gendry’s mouth and stayed there as just a crook in the corner. He never smiled except for surprise and now he couldn’t wholly help it; for as big as the unseen world had seemed to him when he’d been tossed out of King’s Landing, now it looked laughably small.

                                                                              “Seven Hells  .  .  .  Grenn?”

Grenn didn't allow another second to pass before he closed the gap between the two men. His attention dropped from the piece of armour he was trying to get repaired and focused instead on the man that he never thought he would see again. Bear arms would seize Gendry around the middle in a hug, lifting the poor man from the ground for a moment pressed against Grenn's body. He didn't care of the blacksmith's grit or anything else on that moment. He found Gendry. Everything else in the world didn't matter. He gave a laugh as he let Gendry's feet touch the ground again, still keeping close to him. His eyes looked down to the other's, a bright smile on his face. The two men, then boys, bonded on a mutual exclusion from the world. Grenn always pegged as a slow witted beast - always large for his age, and now a large man - and Gendry for his reclusiveness. Gendry was smoother with words than Grenn, and Grenn was faster with a fist than verbal insults. It was a good combination, they had each other's backs. "Genny. What are you doing here, of all places? I thought you'd be sitting on silk pillows and being served food by people like me." Grenn had never thought more of his life than what it was. It was a miracle that he had been taken by the Watch in his mind as no one else in the world bothered with him, except Gendry. There had been no way to try to contact the man still in his arms - another affectionate, brotherly hug a blink away - as Grenn knew that at least he and Gendry could make a go of it. Boys go separate ways and that was the end of that, until tonight. There was no telling where Gendry had gone to, and Grenn had one his darnedest to try and find the man. There were no trademark traits that Grenn could easily describe Gendry to local people - a tall man, dark hair, blue eyes, quiet - that made him stand out. Grenn on the other hand, well-- His nickname was well earned. That smile broke as he looked down to the black on black armour that he wore. The Night's Watch, and his status as ranger, was a reminder that Grenn was now separate from the world that he protected. Meeting Gendry like this was a gift from the gods, but one that he had to return. There would be no way for him to meet Gendry for a pint, or see if that larger blacksmith's arm packed any more power to best Grenn in a friendly match. Grenn wouldn't need to explain what his armour and clothing choice met, Gendry would know. He took a step back from Gendry as if The Black were a plague to spread upon another, as his hands dutifully slid behind his back. "S-sorry about the--" He motioned with his arms to indicate the hug, or bear hug as it were, "I-I-, I forgot--" A childhood stutter, a soft voice and regret in his tone made Grenn seem like a seven foot bumbling fool than a Brother of The Night's Watch.

The bear and the maiden fair || Alys and Grenn

           ___❝I am not a damsel in distress.❞ The words came out of her mouth too quickly and harshly. She had maybe fainted and had to be carried inside but she had made it to the Wall by herself, surviving great dangers. She wasn’t in need of rescuing, she was in need of help and protection, there was a difference for her. She had her northerner pride and she wanted to believe she could take care of herself.

           The prettiest one, those words echoed in her ears. That was what it was all about, feeling second best, she could see it in his posture and the way he had talked. Her anger disappeared as fast as it had came, she knew that feeling all too well and she could understand. Growing up in Karhold, being the last child and the only daughter, she had often felt forgotten in her own home. She took a second swallow of hale, grimacing once more at the bitter taste, gathering her courage to tell her story. ❝Jon Snow’s physical appearance does not matter to me, I only wish to see him because he is Ned Stark’s last living son.❞ She paused, taking a deep breath to control her emotions, she needed her voice and face to remain still. ❝I need his protection against my uncle. He will be there soon, he is after me. You must not let him take me back❞ She begged, fear seizing her.

             Alys shook her head and blushed slightly, avoiding his gaze and clutching the cloak to her chest.❝I am not Arya Stark.❞She knew he was talking about her and not Sansa, the redhead was known to be a real beauty. ❝I am Lady Alys of house Karstark.❞She smiled at his silly comment, maybe it was the ale but she was in a better mood and couldn’t help teasing him. ❝What happened to Lord Jon is the prettiest one ? It seems like we are faced with a bit of incoherence there.❞

He listened to the woman, the lady, and kept quiet a moment before he continued to speak. Grenn wasn't certain what the woman knew about The Watch and the ties of blood that were severed when one took the black. There were no exceptions to it; a brother couldn't leave his post merely because his family needed him. The Night's Watch was his family now, and only death could break that bond. "Snow might have been a Stark's son, but he is no longer. He won't be able to help you." Grenn said softly. There had been times that Grenn wished someone would come for his help, to ask for his assistance instead of going over his head. Grenn was just a no body, and this only reinforced that status. "It's not just him, though. We can't help you. Brothers don't get involved in the realm's matters. We can shelter you for a night or two until you're back on your feet, but--" This news wasn't any good and Grenn didn't enjoy being the one to deliver it. "No one here can help you. Especially Jon. Your connection to him will make you two be watched."

Night Gathers | Grenn/Meryn

“Oh…” Meryn mumbled at the sudden change of plans. But when he saw the man struggled a bit and let out a low grunt, he assumed that it might be because he was hurt or something. Meryn couldn’t feel a little tinge of fright then and there. If they could turn into a man as big as him into something like that on the bed, he felt a pang of doubt that he might not survive his stay in the wall. With an inward groan, his eyes accidentally fell on the man’s hand that moved up to slowly squeeze a pec. It was already bad like that, to see a man squeeze that big muscled flesh under his shirt, but to hear him let out a deep but faint groan made Meryn feel a surge of warmth to his cheeks.

“I…” he then found himself stammering. “I…well,” he cleared his throat gently and moved back to his bed until his back felt the wall. “I doubt that it’s that bad…” he then nodded. “But to humor you, I came from a small lordship. My father wanted me to act like a warrior…” his voice trailed off with a slightly tired smile as his mind told him the right word. Act like a man. Meryn liked to sleep with men and his father hoped that if he is to be with the company of men, he’ll be a man.  “Bring honor to the family and all…” he chuckled. 

"He wanted you to act like a warrior? Did you fail at acting like one?" Grenn thought it would be an odd punishment to send a son that wasn't up to snuff as a warrior to be on The Night's Watch. There were few positions that didn't require a fighting man, and those that were relegated to other duties had a reason to, more physical impairment than anything. Well, except Donal-- "If anything being here will make you into one, though that won't really benefit your father anymore. He's just the man that gave birth to you now. No more family visits, nothing." There was a bit of sadness in Grenn's words. His family was long gone, not even a thought in his mind anymore. To hear that a man was torn from his family to be brought here, almost like Sam, well, it wasn't a nice thing to feel. If Meryn had a family Grenn wished he could have done something to stay there instead of be surrounded by Brothers. "Hopefully you'll bring honour to us, and maybe to your family in some way too. More importantly us. Or me." He grinned over to him, letting out a low chuckle. Grenn pulled his hand away from his chest as he noticed a colouring of the other's cheeks. "Don't tell me you're getting hot in here..."

        LAW        ASK        VERSES        BEGIN

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❝ ⎯ you don't want to wake the dragon, do you ? ❞