#rainie branning

[jackoshadows]

Jon Snow appearance descriptions from the text of the books with references to Arya, Ned (and Lyanna) because they have the house Stark look and he is often times described as looking similar to them by characters who know of all of them.

Jon's eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast. - Bran, AGoT

Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. - Arya, AGoT

The boy absorbed that all in silence. He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away. Whoever his mother had been, she had left little of herself in her son. - Tyrion, AGoT

Jon had their father's face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. - Arya, AGoT

“She might have overlooked a dozen bastards for Ned’s sake, so long as they were out of sight. Jon was never out of sight, and as he grew, he looked more like Ned than any of the trueborn sons she bore him. Somehow, that made it worse.” – Catelyn, AGoT

Her (Arya's) face was dirty, and her tears left pink tracks down her cheeks. – Eddard, AGOT

Sansa could never understand how two sisters, born only two years apart, could be so different. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon's mother had been common, or so people whispered. - Sansa, AGoT

"Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her." - Arya, AGoT

Riding through the rainy night, Ned saw Jon Snow's face in front of him, so like a younger version of his own. - Eddard, AGoT

They felt good. She (Arya) wished she could take off her clothes and swim, gliding through the warm water like an skinny pink otter. Maybe she could swim all the way to Winterfell. – Arya, ACOK

All in black, he was a shadow among shadows, dark of hair, long of face, grey of eye. - Jon, ACoK

A gust of wind sent icy tendrils wending through his long brown hair. - Jon, ASoS

Jon, he'd said, but Jon was gone. It was Lord Snow who faced him now, grey eyes as hard as ice - Sam, AFfC

She stood on the end of the dock, pale and goosefleshed and shivering in the fog. - Arya, AFfC

The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange, appearing and disappearing again, a shadow half-seen behind a fluttering curtain. Now he was a man, now a wolf, now a man again - Melisandre, ADwD

He looked at her face for a long moment with those cold grey eyes of his. His right hand closed, opened, closed again. "As you wish. Edd, take Ghost back to my chambers." - Melisandre, ADwD

Note: The 'Dark' and 'Fair' comparisons refers to hair/eye colour. As in Jon's dark brown hair and dark grey eyes and Robb's comparatively lighter auburn hair and blue eyes as is commonly used in English literature when describing/comparing white people.

Also Note: The First Men - the OG colonizers of Westeros and ancestors of the Starks - are white. Ygritte, Tormund, Val, Mance etc. are not poc in the books

[chairofchaos]

Roots & Offshoots

Pairing: Eris x Fem!Reader (no y/n use, and we’re trying ‘x Reader’ again, folks!) Summary: Eris Vanserra, family man and defender of children, loves his family and his people very much. A slice of domestic life through the eyes of Eris Vanserra’s mate. For Day 2 of Eris Week: Childhood & Legacy (I'm double dipping lol) @erisweekofficial Rating: Teen Word Count: 2.5k Tags & Warnings: Fluffy, with tiny angsty moments, discussions, and allusions. Ends on a happy note! Warnings for Beron Vanserra; abuse, violence (discussed) A/N: Happy Day 2 of Eris Week! Hopefully, this hits the spot with a little fluff. Thank you to @tsunami-of-tears for the gorgeous dividers!

“Daddy, will you tell me a bedtime story?”

Your husband pretended to consider for a moment, the candle beside your daughter’s bed casting a halo of golden light against his red hair and around her head. 

“I suppose we have a bit of time,” he winked at her conspiratorially. You watched from just outside the door, having given her a hug, kiss, and a bedtime story already. She would hear any story you and Eris would tell her, and nag you for more besides, so it wasn’t uncommon for you to read her more than one a night.

“What do you want to read tonight?”

“I want to know what you were like when you were little, like how Mommy talks about the park and the puppy and her friends.” 

“Ah,” he said, adjusting his positioning on the edge of her bed. “Well, let’s see.”

Your daughter didn’t know to look for the subtle twitch of his hand, or the tightening of his jaw. She didn’t know the tells that Eris had, the quiet strength which held back centuries of heartache. She only knew her father as the loving man he displayed in your home. She knew him as the “best hugger in the world,” as she had insisted you caption the picture she drew him for his birthday. As the kisser of her scrapes and cuts from falling out of a tree in the forest. As the one who held her hand when she walked through the streets of the city. Her “favorite Daddy,” as she said every day. “You’re my favorite. My favorite Daddy.”

“Do you have another?” he would ask, his eyes twinkling with mirth. His response never changed, but hers would.

“No. Which means you’re my extra special favorite,” she had explained one rainy morning. “I only have one. Which makes you extra special.”

He had cried that day. He had smiled, and kept it together until she left, holding your niece’s hand as they walked to school together, lunches in hand. When the front door clicked, he spun, tears streaming down his face. It had healed something in him, he told you, something that had felt broken and hopeless even after she had been born.

Her love meant everything to him, to the man whose father had hardly cared to use his name unless it was to berate him with a sneer.

“Let’s see,” he smoothed her blanket up to her shoulders, smiling. “Can I tell you a story about me and Uncle Lucien?”

“No,” she pouted. “Uncle Lucien was a baby when you were big. He said so. I want to know what you were like when you were little like me.”

He faltered for just a moment before yielding to her request. “Let’s see. How about a story about me and Mamé?”

“Yes!” she giggled, wiggling beneath her blankets. She clutched a small plush hound beneath her chin, its ear worn. She had carried it around every day for the first four years of her little life. On occasion, you still saw it in her hand as she skipped through the house singing to herself.

“In the time of Bran, when the leaves were red and the wind sweet, the fire warm and welcoming, there lived a faeling named Eris, and his mother.”

“And that was Mamé, right, Daddy?”

“Yes, love,” Eris chuckled. “They lived in a little house in the woods, with a stream behind the house. Every day, they woke up and went to the stream, and splashed around until they were soaking wet. Sometimes, Eris’ aunt and uncle would come, and they would splash around, too. And the four of them would lay in the grass by the house in the woods and eat the forest berries and drink cream from the neighbor’s cow. The neighbors were our friends, and would come for supper. Mother would cook, and Eris would set the table.”

“Like Mommy taught me?” 

“Yes, sweetheart. Like Mommy taught you.”

“Fork, plate, knife, spoon,” your daughter recited.

“Just like that,” Eris smirked, tapping the tip of her nose with a slender finger. “Smart girl.”

She giggled. “Was Eris good at setting the table?”

Eris twisted his face in a show of thinking very hard about her question. “No,” he decided with a wink in your direction. “He was very, very bad at setting the table, because he didn’t pay attention to where he was going and broke plates almost every day.”

“Every day?” 

“Almost,” he nodded solemnly. “But he was very little, and his mother fixed the broken plates until he learned.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“It was very nice of her.”

“Did she yell?”

Eris paled just slightly. “No. She never yelled, Calliope.”

“That’s good. You don’t yell either, Daddy. My friend’s daddy yells all the time.”

“Hmm,” Eris said. “Well. I hope she’s okay.”

“She is. She says it’s scary.”

“I’m sure it is. Sweetheart, can you tell me and Mommy more about that in the morning?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. Now, where was I?”

You turned down the hallway. He would be another few minutes, but you couldn’t keep standing in the hall. It had been a long day, interactions with courtiers, staff, and . You didn’t mind taking some of the responsibilities for Eris on occasion, especially if it meant he could get away for moments like this. 

One or two more letters wouldn’t hurt tonight. The rest could wait until morning, after the children had come for breakfast and left for school, the small pack of them all. 

It had been one of Eris’ first decisions after your marriage. Your nieces and nephews descended on the house for breakfast every morning before lessons. He cooked with the staff more often than not, you, your siblings and one of the two brothers whom he had reconciled with, and all their spouses, crowded around the dining room table while your mate brought out the food each morning. He loved cooking, one of the few joys he held onto through his tumultuous younger years. 

Over the years, the number of children had grown, and you had expanded the dining room to fit everyone. Now, Calliope joined them, cooking with Eris before going off to school every day. She had asked if one or two of her friends could join, and soon, more than half her class was at your house for breakfast. It was just as well. Her cousins were older than her, and she enjoyed the company. It also resulted in her being exposed to families outside your own, with a greater variety of company. You all were invited to dinner at least once a week at the houses of various classmates, and it afforded you and Eris the ability to feel normal, even if some of the motivation behind the invitations was likely the bragging rights of dining with the High Lord and his family.

Calliope enjoyed it, her ruddy cheeks bright as she skipped ahead with bows in her hair. “Mommy, look!” she cried on one occasion, a moth fluttering in the bushes at the roadside. “It’s pretty!” 

“It’s very pretty, Callie,” you agreed. She reached out a chubby hand, giggling. 

“Let’s not touch it,” Eris called. “Let it fly, love. Let it fly.”

He gazed at her with such adoration, her innocence and joy at the world. That open adoration was something he rarely allowed in himself, even after his father’s death. 

You turned your attention back to the letters at hand, writing until you set down your pen and reached for the ink blotter. 

A strong hand settled on your shoulder as you pressed the blotter against the page, rolling it over the text you had written to the Minister of Commerce.

“Hello, sweetness,” he bent to press a kiss to your head. You hummed in acknowledgement, setting the ink blotter and the letter aside to dry. 

“Hello, handsome,” you smiled up at him. He came around your chair, spinning it so you faced him as he leaned against the corner of the desk. 

“Working after supper again?”

You shrugged. “You were telling an excellent story. I figured one more wouldn’t hurt.”

Eris raised an eyebrow. “If it were me, you’d be stealing the pen out of my hand.”

“I was done when you got here,” you protested. “And-”

He raised a finger, his lips twisting. The mirth you recognized earlier returned to his eyes as he corrected, “You were not done. I’ve been here since paragraph two.”

Your eyes widened, even as you smiled in jest. “Well, it’s a very important letter.”

“Ah. A very important letter, you say,” he bowed to look you levelly in the eyes, his nose inches from yours. “More important than sleep?”

You nod in mock solemnity, leaning backwards. “Much.”

“More important than your well-being?”

“Oh, entirely.”

“I must disagree with both your somethings,” he said seriously, but then returned to his teasing. “More important than your husband?”

You laugh, raising a hand to brush his cheek. “Never.”

“Never? Well, then what are you doing at that desk?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m done now,” you grinned, accepting his hand to raise yourself from the chair.

“Come to bed with me,” he wrapped his arms around your waist, dropping his head to your shoulder. 

You nudged him backwards, the two of you maneuvering around to the side of the desk before releasing each other from your embrace. 

“Did she like the story?” you asked, pulling him with you from the office. 

“I think so,” Eris sighed. “I didn’t.”

You were silent. It was easier, he had told you once, to fill the silence rather than answer questions. 

He continued, turning to his dresser, “The story was true. I wouldn’t lie to her, not outright. Not if I can truly help it. But the truth was… it was during the massacre. It was where Mother took me to avoid the bloodshed.”

You winced. The massacre of nobles under Beron’s reign was the single spot in Autumn history which had not been overshadowed in brutality by Amarantha’s slaughter. It was the single most bloody conflict in the last three thousand years, and had solidified Beron’s hold over too many things for far too long. Eris had been no more than six, and yet the stain of his father’s reign hung over him like a dense fog.

He retrieved his night clothes, tossing you a garment from his drawer. You smiled and nodded, slipping out of your evening dress and replacing it with his shirt. “Thank you.”

He smiled over his shoulder, rummaging in the drawers again. “Here,” he added, tossing you a pair of wool socks. “Your feet were freezing last night.”

You pouted. “You’re a lord of fire, it shouldn’t be a problem when I use you to warm myself.”

“You’re just using me,” he laughed. “If you want to use me for warmth, at least have the decency to cuddle me while you do it.”

“I do!” You protested. “But you were a furnace.”

“If I was a furnace, and you were cuddling me,” he crossed his arms, smirking, “then how come your feet were cold?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you slid into bed. “I don’t know what to tell you except that I am right, and you are not.”

“Well,” Eris drawled slowly. “I see we want to fight tonight.”

You smirked in return, tucking the blankets around your waist. “If by fight you mean sleep in preparation for the incredibly busy day we have tomorrow, then I have to agree. Otherwise…”

Eris inclined his head. “It is outrageously busy tomorrow. Still. I’d like to hold my wife, please.”

“Come to bed with me,” you whispered, tossing the quilt from his side of the bed. He joined you, rolling into your side with his arm around your waist. “Anything you want, sweetness.”

You both were silent. Eris extinguished the candle flames with a twitch of his finger, breathing deeply in your neck. You stroked his back gently, fingers catching on the soft cotton of his thin shirt. It was a wonder he preferred sleeping in one at all. Habits formed in childhood rarely break, you supposed.

“She’s the same age I was when the massacres happened,” Eris whispers. You nod, not stopping your gentle movements. “What legacy will I leave to her? Will she inherit his evils through me? And the harm done in my time? What will her life be, seven centuries from now?”

You sighed. “We can’t know that. But as far as I know, you haven’t slaughtered the entire nobility, adults and children alike. You care for her. You care for her friends, our family, our extended family. You love her, and me.”

He huffed a laugh. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I know. And we will, in some ways. But we do our best.”

“She told me I’m her favorite daddy again,” he laughed. “I tucked her in– like a river nymph, as always– and she said it in the sleepiest voice.”

You smiled. “She means it.”

“Do you know which friend it is she was talking about?”

“The one whose father yells?”

“Yes.”

“No,” you sighed. 

Eris was protective of his daughter, and, by extension, her friends. It was no doubt Eris would have a conversation with the man if he found anything to his distaste. Eris Vanserra, defender of children. The savior he had needed as a child, come centuries too late. “I’d rather be certain of harm before we say anything at all.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I truly hope sheis alright.” 

“Laws are stricter now. You could send someone, instead of getting involved yourself.”

“Don’t I owe it to Callie, to help her friend?”

“You did help her friend. You wrote those laws yourself, forced them through the council. You insisted on trained professionals in every school, to educate the children on what abuse was and what it looked like, the forms it could take. You’ve done a great deal to ensure their safety, and you did it all well before she was even born.”

“It doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Eris, this is a part of your legacy,” you nudged his cheek with your palm until he raised his head to look at you. “This is what you are giving her. This is what you leave her, greater safety for her and her peers, and an example to follow. Not a massacre, but safety. Not fear, but love.”

He nodded. “I know. I know that. It still feels too little.”

“To them, it isn’t little…”

“‘...to them, it’s everything’,” he finished the line from his own speech with a chuckle. He had said that, at the ceremony to pass the laws which now protected the children of Autumn. “Alright. I’ll let them handle it.”

“Good,” you kissed his forehead. “Now please remember that your daughter needs her favorite daddy whole and entire in the morning.”

“Her mother, too,” he poked your side until you squirmed, laughing. “Stop it!”

He kissed you gently through his smile, his hands gripping your hips as he rolled, pulling you on top of him.

“I love you,” you whispered between lazy kisses. 

“I love you, sweetness.”

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @c-starstuff-man0 @unanswered-stars @dusk-muse @ninthcircleofprythian

[extravagantliar]

Five times of receiving letters for maxima

They write often, more than what should be socially acceptable for two people no further intertwined than their financial situation to those who looked no closer. Business is part of it, unlikely acceptance and friendship being the rest. 

A look into the friendship and financial relationship of Varric Tethras and Maxima Aurum —  A meme from the Great Abyss -

9:41 Dragon 

Magister Aurum 

Thank you for your insight during today's Merchant’s Meet within the Inquisition. It seems these devilish dukes and cowardly counts are becoming bolder with the ongoing civil war. I appreciate the backup; it was unexpected and much needed. I do say we caught some of their rarest behaviour. 

Why don’t we cut them out of the deal?

If the cloth has to move through Jader, we should send it through Kirkwall and avoid most of Orlais if possible. I am aware of where Jader sits, but Redcliffe seems too far and likely that Arl would want a piece of the pie if that were the case. What do you think?

Want to make a bit of gold?

Of course, you do. Come find me at the Herald’s Rest when you’re up for it. Tiny and his bunch will help with logistics. 

Deceitfully yours,

V. Tethras

9:43 Dragon 

Lady Maxima Aurum, Magister of House Aurum,

Well, well, well! You certainly were a sight for sore eyes. All gold and glitter, if you had been any more shiny, every damn bird in Kirkwall would have been on your shoulder. Don’t tell me that’s the trend in the North now.

All of the teasing aside. It was nice to see a friendly face among the sea of sycophants and dignitaries, the same thing if you ask me. If you are still in town, please come by the Keep. I will not be in that hideous crown, but I would like you to sign the trade paperwork and make you an official partner. You deserve it. You took the helm on some projects for me when Kirkwall needed more of me than I could give. You’ve been a boon to this city. We’re a great mixing pot. Lowtown has people from all over, and they are doing better; their crafts are going further because of us. 

On a lighter note, I owe you one. Drinks? I will even take you to a nice bar in Hightown since The Hanged Man was so offensive last time. It was just one bar fight, with just one well-known criminal. You act like that doesn’t happen in Minrathous. I know it does, I get the papers on delay, but I get the papers the same as you. 

Bran will have something more fancy and official delivered to you at a later date. 

Stay golden, 

The Viscount of Kirkwall

Varric Tethras      

9:46 Dragon

M, 

If you’re reading this note, I am about to pass you my hand and flip the table - the man across the table has a knife. I also think he’s who we are looking for. Charter said he could have changed his appearance. 

It takes more than blood magic to fix a bad personality. 

- V

9:48 Dragon

Maxima, 

I’m stepping down as Viscount. You’ve likely seen the papers, the charges. You know it’s assumed guilty in this city-state, right? 

Shit. 

Before you offer me your opulent and beachfront home, I say in jest, knowing how rainy and horrid Minrathous is, I know I am already out of the city. I’ve been out since they started making threats. The old bald one, Orkney ( yes, I am aware half of them are old and the other half are bald; this is the one that is both ), was the one that had charges drawn against me and started making threats at me and my house. You can threaten me, but the girls are another thing.

Do you know what the charge is? Something about embezzlement, well - it doesn’t matter if I have proof or my books are clean, I did gamble buildings away in 9:42 Dragon. However, the buildings were seized by Dumar and then another by Stannard. 

I just don’t have the proof for that. 

I’m also not fighting it. 

Things are picking up again; I’ll need you to take the helm on some of the trading companies. I’ve outlined the ones my estate can run, but I’m handing these over to you. You don’t even have to do anything; my solicitor has seen to it all. You should have the paperwork soon. 

Don’t blow it all on shoes. 

Your deposed Viscount, 

Varric Tethras 

9:52 Dragon

Maxima, 

Thank you for taking care of the businesses over the last few years. I didn’t expect the turn this took. I don’t think any of us did. I want to say thank you for all the help you offered Charter and me in Orlais. I’m currently in Minrathous, in Dock Town. I don’t know for how long, but if you aren’t offended by The Swan, come and find me. I have some additional things for you that you will need and some information that I cannot safely put in this letter. 

You know who to look for.

Varric

An Undated Letter 

Max, 

Hopefully, you find this on a warm day. Hopefully, the sky has cleared, and all of this has come to a close. Hopefully, the city is starting to heal, I knew a thing or two about broken cities in my day. 

Whatever you choose to do with our trade network is entirely up to you, and there is no wrong choice. The thing we built together, I have slowly put in your hands over the last six years. I watched you rule from the sidelines during our time in the Inquisition; you challenged the norms of those traders and made me question myself. Not many people give me pause; you’re on a shortlist. 

Well, Max, is this our great parting?

Highly unlikely, as House Tethras still owns a good fifteen percent. Will I be less annoying? Likely, considering that half of our trading partners think I’m rotting somewhere. I am currently rotting, can’t tell you where, but the terrain is awful. They offered me a horse, with my hip and shoulders? 

I’ll walk. 

Take care of yourself, and stop letting weird dwarves talk you into bad business deals. 

VT

[snapdragonling]

round two: 🌧️🌳🤝🪤 for sabine, middy and imbris

u spoil me | yet another oc ask game

🌧️ What is the favorite thing for your OC to do on a rainy day?

sabine — when she owned a shop her favourite thing to do when it rained was sit in the second storey window with a cup of tea, watching the weather and the people trudging past. that's still something she'd enjoy, although the location (and company) changes.

middy — curl up with a book and a warm drink, or visit friends for a nice day in. she loves being cozy while it's wet and miserable outside.

imbris — in general he hates the rain and being stuck inside but in canon it sends everyone fleeing into taverns which is great for the pickpocketing business, and in modern AU he can watch TV or play video games so it's not so bad (especially if sorrel is there)

🌳 Would your OC survive for a week on their own in the wilderness?

sabine — yes! she's done it in the past when she was in incredibly bad shape, so she could definitely do it again (assuming the wilderness is somewhat survivable. i'm picturing the woods or mountains). she's got good survival skills and a lot of common sense to boot.

middy — it would be a struggle. she's a city girl through and through, but maybe she remembers enough from all the books she read to scrape by (and the magic would certainly help)

imbris — do not pass go do not collect $200. he'd eat the wrong thing and die. (he's also an incorrigible city kid)

🤝 Does your OC have someone they want at their side when they are scared? Who?

sabine — no she doesn't want anyone to witness her fear (bran or haland or ulam would be okay) ((eniko may witness her fear once ☝ but she will be extremely unhappy about it))

middy — answered!

imbris — answered!

🪤 What is one thing that could be used to lure your OC into a trap?

sabine — the promise of a good fight. even if she knows it's a trap she's liable to spring it anyway (something she has done multiple times) because she'd rather jump into the wolf's mouth than wait for the jaws to close around her

middy — anything curious or mysterious. voted second most likely to touch a cursed object because it looked interesting (barney is still the king). also, y'know, any of her loved ones in danger.

imbris — something shiny. OR just tell him not to do something. marked unsafe from big red button saying "do not touch".

[stealthrockdamage]

somebody tagged me in a "spell ur url in songs" thing a while ago and i forgot who it was but thank u im doin it now

S - Shofukan - Snarky Puppy

T - ...To Be A Ghost - Jeff Rosenstock

E - End Boss - Man Man

A - All The Words We Don't Say - Hiatus Kaiyote

L - La Di Da - The Internet

T - Take Five - The Dave Brubeck Quartet

H - Here's That Rainy Day - Wes Montgomery

R - Rust - Caligula's Horse

O - On The One - The RH Factor

C - Chameleon - Herbie Hancock

K - Kaleidoscope - BADBADNOTGOOD

D - Do It Again - Steely Dan

A - Astounded - Bran Van 3000

M - My Famed Disappearing Act - Thank You Scientist

A - Aluminum Park - My Morning Jacket

G - Gamma Knife - King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard

E - Eriatarka - The Mars Volta

this is such a long fucking url. this is so many songs. and yet STILL thyere's so much shit i love that i couldn't put on here. tried to challenge myself not to place any single artist here more than once... enjoy my music taste. tagging any of my mutuals that want to do this. idk lol

[contreparry]

Happy Friday! I hope this sparks something! How about "The aftermath of a scene you'll never actually write" maybe with something from DAO?

Absolutely! Here’s some younger Surana and Anders for @dadrunkwriting!

It was raining outside. It rained all the time in Kinloch. People said Ferelden was a rainy country and that Kinloch wasn't any different, but Bran knew better. Sunny days at Kinloch were a rarity, as if even nature itself wanted to punish them.

With divine judgement like that doing penance seemed pointless. But Wynne told him to scrub the infirmary floor while everyone else walked in the courtyard and enjoyed the rare sunlight, so Bran viciously scrubbed at the stone with a stiff bristled brush and scowled into the soapy depths of the water-filled bucket at his side.

"Surana," Anders whispered from across the room. He was an older boy, a Mage who came to Kinloch last summer, who clawed and bit and screamed in words Bran didn't understand. He was here too, scrubbing floors and rearranging medicines on the shelves, but Bran didn't know what the boy did to warrant such a punishment from Wynne. Maybe he ran again. Maybe he got into a fight. Maybe he snuck the kittens from the stables into the older apprentice's dormitories again.

Anders didn't blow up an alchemy kit while conducting unsupervised experiments, though. That was Bran. His ears still rang with the sound of the explosion and the skin on his palms was tender.

"Sur-an-a," Anders called again, almost singing his name in his odd, guttural accent. Bran turned his head away and felt his eyes prickle. He was laughing, wasn't he, and who wouldn't? Everyone knew that blood lotus was highly reactive, that you must work with it in perfect isolation, that even a stray spark would set the whole plant ablaze-

"Bran," Anders' voice went soft and pleading when he spoke again. "Let me see."

"'s fine," Bran muttered, and he dunked his hands (blistered, raw, painful) into the soapy, dirty water and oh, how it hurt! It was worse than that time he upset a hornet's nest in the orchard, worse than the time he tripped down the ladder in the library and bruised his shins, worse than the time before Kinloch when he briefly touched a hot fire poker-

A pair of slender hands wrapped around his wrists and tugged his hands out of the bucket. Anders clicked his tongue the way Wynne did whenever she was about to scold someone when he turned Bran's hands over and examined his palms. They were definitely not supposed to be speaking to each other. Wynne was explicit: no talking while cleaning, this is a punishment, not a social hour. But Anders never listened to rules, and Bran... well, he wasn't a good listener either.

"Nasty burns, those," Anders remarked as he reached into the pocket of his apron and pulled out a clean linen cloth. "Ought to keep that bandaged up. But we can take care of it now." Anders began to dry Bran's hands, using clean water from his own washing bucket to wipe away dirt. His touch was as light as a dragonfly landing on a lily pad, and any time Bran winced he took extra care not to press too hard or quickly.

"Blood lotus sap is an adhesive," Bran mumbled as Anders worked. Heat rushed up to the tips of his ears. Blood lotus is reactive, blood lotus sap is an adhesive, of course it would cause awful burns if it combusted on a workbench, and he was only making extra work for all the healers by being foolish and doing experiments when he ought to be studying from the textbook- Anders dried his hands and grabbed something off of one of the shelves. A moment later he was back, kneeling next to him as he smeared a cool salve on Bran's blistered skin.

"Y-esss? Doesn't change the fact that you need bandages, Bran," Anders replied. "Wynne won't miss one or two. But you're so tiny we can cut one up and no one will be the wiser, hmm?" He smiled at him then, big brown eyes gleaming like they were sharing a secret. The good kind of secret, the kind that was just as precious as sunshine and made you smile and glow from the inside out.

"Okay," Bran said. Maybe today wasn't such a punishment after all.

[semper-legens]

197. Over Sea, Under Stone, by Susan Cooper

Owned?: Yes Page count: 175 My summary: On holiday in Cornwall, the three Drew children are bored on a rainy day when they discover a long-forgotten secret hidden in the attic. With their great-uncle Merriman, they are soon pulled into a world of legend, when great kings walked the land and did battle with their foes. But there are enemies after their secret. Will the children find the holy grail, or lose it forever? My rating: 4/5 My commentary:

Another year, another reread of the Dark Is Rising sequence. Look, I know that a limited number of people are interested in this series, or even have heard of it, but I love it. It's Arthuriana, it's impossibly earnest, it's experimental and mystical, and it features a bunch of weird little autistic children doing magical quests. What's not to love, really?

The thing that strikes me in this particular reread is how Merriman really, really should not be allowed near children. No, but for real, I was thinking about this, and I have a theory about Merriman's actions in this book. Merry brings the kids to the Grey House in the hope that they'll stumble over the plot, because he's not going to find it on his own. He then decides that it's their quest, and his part in it is to be their guardian, to help them from the sidelines but not to be involved. And then he runs off following an obvious trap and only comes in at the end to help the kids out. Now, in the next book, we see Merry and Will going back to the day when Merry's ward/servant Hawkins betrays him. Merry knows this, but cannot in the moment do anything about it, because it's what happens. I wonder if something like that is happening here? Merry lives out of time, he knows the past, the present, and the future all at once. He knows that the kids find the grail, so he can't do anything about it, all he can do is give the help he can. I'd call it Merriman almost trusting the kids' maturity, except he goes and nonconsensually erases their minds at the end of the series anyway, so what the hell man.

Speaking of the kids, it still makes me laugh how Susan Cooper does a reasonably good job at portraying three very credible children, but it's still the 1960s and they're posh, so it seems so weird to me. Did kids ever say 'golly!'? Like, actually? That said, Simon, Jane, and Barney are wonderfully characterised, it always amazes me how well they are distinguished from each other, to the point where you can still tell who is speaking even in dialogue without tags. And they're all just shitty kids at the end of it. Barney is autistic about Arthuriana and kind of out of it, Jane is a little stuck up, Simon is proud and thinks he's hot shit. It's cute, is what I mean.

Really, I think the Dark comes off the worst here. They can't stop three children? Hastings has Barney in his clutches at one point and not only fails to get any good info from him, but Barney gets snapped out of it by a literal actual dog. They can't outsmart kids? These are just normal kids! It's not like Will and Bran, who are magic, these are just three normal posh children! Come on, the Dark, you could totally have just murdered them and called it a day. The kids are unsubtle about having found a map, and the next day they find that the house has been ransacked. Did the Dark never...think to look in there before? A little breaking and entering? Do the Dark obey the fucking laws of the mortal world? Even Macavity doesn't do that, and he's a cat. Get it together, lads.

Next up, the Dark rises, and Will Stanton is there to meet it.

[mickimagnum]

Even though it was a rainy Freedom Day, Devin & Bran didn't let that get in the way of their holiday festivities. Streaking? ✔️

Grilling? ✔️

Fireworks? ✔️ and ✔️

[spricket-central]

this is a memorial for a little bug who changed my life; this is a memorial for Crouton.

i first met Crouton on the night of december 6th, 2022. i had been toying with the idea of keeping some sprickets as pets, but hadnt quite committed yet.

not until that one rainy night.

she was a tiny thing, sitting on my bedside table. normally i would have released her outside upon capturing her, but... it was so rainy, and she was so little...

she spent the night in a plastic tupperware that i had mangled the lid of in order to make some oversized air holes (that i just had to hope she wouldnt escape through), with nothing inside but a paper towel lining, a little hide made of a toilet paper roll, a plastic bottle cap with a wet cotton ball in it, and some wheat bran and a tiny bit of apple that id put on another scrap of toilet paper tube.

the next day, i went straight to the pet shop for supplies. i got her a proper tank and some proper food, made a primitive setup, and placed her into her new home.

less than a week later, i ended up finding two adult sprickets, Biscuit and Cookie. because Crouton was so much smaller than them, i relocated her to a smaller tank where she could live until she was grown enough to live with the adults.

and grow she did! she even had a younger roommate for a while, a young girl named Breadcrumb, but i ended up separating them as well, this time for Breadcrumbs safety!

Crouton was a shy little thing as a nymph. while the adults could be seen out and about now and then during the day, Crouton remained hidden. a Crouton sighting was a rare thing indeed! but as her body grew, so did her confidence. she would always be skittish (as all sprickets are), but in her adult life she was considerably more present, going for occasional little strolls during the day, and absolutely springing to life the moment the lights went out.

by the time she was old enough to join the adults, Cookie had long since passed, but Biscuit and the more recent addition to the family, Peanut, were there to join her as tankmates! the three seemed to get along quite well, from what i could tell. my favorite thing was when id peek into the tank during the day and find all three of them cuddled together in a little cluster as they snoozed in their egg carton cave.

however, Crouton would soon be alone once more. Peanut was the first to pass, followed by Biscuit soon after, both presumably of old age. but there would still be another to join her later: her former roomie, Breadcrumb, was almost done growing, and upon reaching adulthood, the pair would be reunited! the two made a dynamic duo, each with their own personalities and quirks.

Crouton had such an energetic personality. i swear, she didnt know how to walk; only how to run. when i flicked off the lights for the night, id see the wiggling of antennae from within the egg carton cave, and within moments, there was Crouton, ready to explore! often she'd do a lap or two around the tank before finally settling down to eat. her favorite food was carrot, and she was an absolute FIEND for it! i have so many videos of her voraciously chowing down on her nightly piece.

on may 28th, Crouton even became a mother. 2 months prior, i had kept a few of the eggs id collected during that weeks tank cleaning and set them aside to "incubate" in a small container of moist soil. i had collected the eggs after Biscuits death, and i wasnt even sure if he and Crouton had ever mated, let alone if the eggs id set aside that night were fertile. but, to my surprise and joy, little Poppyseed was born. being so tiny, however, she would have to live separate from her mama and "auntie Breadcrumb."

Crouton and Breadcrumb lived together for many happy months until suddenly, just a couple of days before july ended, Breadcrumb died, her condition having rapidly declined due to what i believe was a genetic condition that made her eggbound.

it would only be a little over a week until Crouton followed.

i had noticed her slowing down and had been bracing myself for this day for some time, but... well, no amount of preparation can prevent the wave of grief that comes with the loss of a loved one. not even when that loved one is a bug.

because Crouton, as with all of my sprickets, was NOT just a bug. just because they are small and so extremely different from a human or any other mammal doesnt mean one cant love them. they become a part of your life.

Crouton changed my life. she was the very first spricket i ever cared for, and inspired me to care for so many other sprickets who have come into my life, and countless others who have yet to follow. she created a lineage of love that will continue to spread long after shes gone.

she will never know how much she meant to me. to her, i was an anonymous force of nature, so frighteningly and unfathomably large. she had no way of understanding that this was a force of love, to whatever extent she could even comprehend what "love" means.

but i love her. i love her so, so much, and she brought me so much joy. i always say that love is an investment in heartbreak, and the 8 months i spent with Crouton were worth every tear im shedding. I'll miss her dearly, but i can at least take comfort knowing that i gave her a life that she could never have known without a frighteningly and unfathomably large helping hand.

Crouton, I'll always be grateful for all that youve done for me. im just a weird little monster, disabled and trying my best to recover after hitting rock bottom, and the joy you brought me has been invaluable. you helped bring meaning into a life that so often struggled to find it.

I'll take good care of your baby. I'll make sure Poppyseed grows into a beautiful little lady, just like her mama. I'll do everything i can to give her a happy life, one where she is always fed and safe and loved.

and everytime i look into her silly little cartoon dot eyes, I'll think of you. every moment that i spend loving the sprickets in my care, its me loving you too. your life may be over, but your legacy will live on.

rest easy, my beautiful baby girl. i love you so, so much. and i always will.

Crouton

12/6/2022 (caught) - 8/8/2023

[willowmilk]

it’s rainy… :-) had raisin bran with fruit and kefir… making tea <3 and updating my linkedIn

[arcan3ly]

wasn’t  that  JASPER KOST  walking  the  cobbled  roads  of  coňstanja ?  it’s  nice  to  see  the  STABLE WORKER  out  and  about  on  such  a  fine  day  as  this.  i’ve  heard  from  the  court  spies  that  they  are  notoriously  TIMID ,  whilst  also  managing  to  be  quite  RESILIENT.  the  TWENTY5  year  old  is  eager  to  explore  bran  keep.  i  heard  that  they  themselves  aren't  divine.  it’s  funny,  whenever  i  think  of  them,  i  think  of  the  broken  strings  of  an  inherited  lyre ,  wide  and  shimmering  eyes  the  colour  of  lichen  &  the  cracked  leather  of  an  old ,  worn  satchel .     ⸻     (  demi man  +  they / he   +  homosexual.  )

CHAPTER ONE     :         STATS  .

name :         jasper josef kost .         nicknames :         jas .         age :         twenty5 .         gender  +  pronouns :         demi  man  +  he / they .         sexuality :         homosexual .         faceclaim :         jack wolfe .         profession :         stable worker.        

CHAPTER TWO     :         SOUNDTRACK  .

01.         meet me in the woods — lord huron .         02.         agape — bear's den .         03.         jungle — somebody's child .         04.         run boy run — woodkid .         05.         runaway — aurora .         06.         strangers — ethel cain .        

CHAPTER THREE     :         STORY  .

𝓲. not  long  ago,  jasper  had  been  nothing  more  than  a  barrel  rat  —  a  street  urchin  without  a  warm  tavern  to  lay  his  head.  it  hadn’t  always  been  begging  for  coin  and  bending  at  the  will  of  those  with  full  coffers,  but  darkness  had  become  a  quick  friend  since  their  mother  disappeared  and  their  father  slung  them  out  of  the  family  home  in  disgust.  why  would  he  have  wanted  a  son  with  no  hope  of  bearing  an  heir,  that  could  hardly  lift  a  sword  without  their  arms  wobbling,  and  that  had  an  affinity  for  music  in  a  world  of  blood  and  steel ?  a waste of breath and a waste of life, jasper filled their bags with food and instruments at eighteen years old and decided to face the cruel world alone. 𝓲𝓲. stowing  himself  away  in  the  back  of  a  travelling  wagon,  jasper  came  to coňstanja  with  the  hope  of  starting  afresh.  if  there  was  anywhere  that  would  appreciate  his  music,  it  was  those  dressed  to  the  nines  in  robes  of  silk  and  lace.  or  that  was  what  he  had  hoped.  instead,  jasper's  hopes  to  be  bestowed  with  enough  coin  to  grant  him  a  room  in  the  bunkhouse  each  night  fell  fell  on  deaf  ears.  most  days  had  been  spent  curled  up  on  the  ground  with  his  flute  or  his  lyre,  twinkling  melodies  that  caught  and  floated away  on  the  air  as  clouds.  he  had  been  nothing  much,  a  child  cast out  into  the  unforgiving  world,  but  jasper  fought  to  cling  onto  the  hope  that  was  quickly  unwinding  like  a  spool  of  thread. 𝓲𝓲𝓲. the  kindness  of  others  kept  him  from  falling  ill  to  plague  or  other  misfortune.  without  pity,  he  would  have  found  himself  six-feet  deep  in  an  unmarked  grave  with  the  rest  of  the  destitute  strangelings  travelling  to  the  motherland  with  the  hope  of  making  something  of  themselves.  a  miracle  had  brought  him  to  the  door  of  the  stable  one  rainy  night,  searching  for  a  shelter  to  save  him  from  the  frozen  downpour.  instead  they  asked  whether  jasper  knew  how  to  clean  out  muck  from  horse  shoes,  whether  brushing  fur  was  something  beyond  their  skillset.  it  wasn't  music,  but  it  was  an  opportunity  —  in  favor  of  shelter  and  coin,  jasper  hung  up  their  lyre  to  dedicate  their  life  to  fresh  foals. 𝓲𝒗. music  still  nips  at  the  ends  of  their  fingers  like  a  needy  puppy.  at  night,  hidden  away  on  the  hay bale  they  call  a  bed,  jasper  composes  quietly  to  himself  in  the  darkness.  they  strum  invisible  strings  or  dance  their  fingertips  over  imaginary  piano  keys,  creating  melodies  that  unfurl  in  their  mind  like  scripture.  they  remain  soft  despite  it  all,  a  gentle  young  thing  protected  only  by  those  that  are  kind  enough  to  watch  their  back  —  danya  became  their  sister,  their  mother,  their  best  friend,  and  jasper  still  wonders  whether  they  would  have  survived  so  long  without  them.  in  some  way,  his  mother  had  been  reborn  within  her. it was as though their paths had always meant to cross. 𝒗. jasper  has  long  since  made  peace  with  the  idea  that  home  was  something  they  would  never  know.  without  their  mother  to  protect  them,  their  father  wanted  nothing  to  do  with  the  pathetic  boy  they  had  brought  earth side  —  and  so  the  castle  walls  became  the  musician’s  everything.  their  free  evenings  are  often  spent  with  the  few  friends  they  trust,  or  down  at  the  drunk  impaler  strumming  their  lyre  for  those  too  intoxicated  to  count  how  many  coins  they  had  shoved  into  jasper’s  pockets.  with  doom  slowly  encroaching  their  sanctuary,  jasper  wonders  just  how  long  somebody  of  such  mediocre  stock  can  last  in  a  place  amongst  nobility. 

CHAPTER FOUR     :         CONNECTIONS  .

𝓲. danya hasri — best friend . 𝓲𝓲. wanted — love interest . 𝓲𝓲𝓲. wanted — colleagues .

[divinelytm]

𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃  —  the  cobbled  roads  of  coňstanja  beckons  you  forward,  isidore  bladyan,  emese  moroz,  ivan  dragova,  elisavet  verkon.  bearing  the  likeness  of  bai  lu,  erin  kellyman,  ben  barnes,  hannah  dodd —  your  beauty  has  been  spoken  of  across  the  realm.  please  ensure  you  have  studied  the  checklist,  and  submit  your  account  within  24  hours.

bai lu . cis female . she & her . wasn’t that isidore bladyan walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja? it’s nice to see the lady of house bladyan, lady in waiting out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously haughty, whilst also managing to be quite clever. the twenty-nine year old is eager to explore bran keep. i heard that they themselves aren’t divine. it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of up to the spines of books make dangerous weapons in the hands of a precocious child, the urge the pick apart every expression and conversation, sharp wit and sound logic mean little in the head of a woman meant for other things ( rainie . she/her . 24 . est . )

erin kellyman . non-binary . they/them . wasn’t that emese moroz walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja? it’s nice to see the court assassin out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously solitary, whilst also managing to be quite unwavering. the twenty-seven year old is eager to explore bran keep. i heard that they themselves are divine ( corporal ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of up to is there such a thing as a noble assassin does the blood on your hands absolve your sins, a head bowed in supplication - a root pulled straight from the dirt upwards, love is a weapon when it's forged in the right kiln. ( rainie . she/her . 24 . est . ) for vlad dragova's best friend(s) connection

ben barnes . cis male . he/him . wasn’t that ivan dragova walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja? it’s nice to see the prince of valanya out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously machiavellian, whilst also managing to be quite charismatic. the thirty-eight year old is eager to explore bran keep. i heard that they themselves aren’t divine. it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of the lamer lion will always show its wound in the end once jaws have sunk and blows have been traded, a slow-acting poison winding its way through veins, the mourning call of the birds repeated over until it means nothing. ( rainie . she/her . 24 . est . )

hannah dodd . cis woman . she + her . wasn’t that elisavet verkon walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja? it’s nice to see the lady of house verkon out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously apprehensive, whilst also managing to be quite sentimental. the twenty five year old is eager to explore bran keep. i heard that they themselves are divine ( solarui ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of a pious purity veiling the hairline cracks of imperfection, a complexion gone deathly pale and the rush of the ground coming to meet her, bare feet tiptoeing against the cold stone in the dead of night. ( diana . she + her . 28 . pst . )

[hearthtales]

Gruff nosed the pouch, then shook his head and sneezed. The dream draught did not smell like a tasty treat, so it failed to keep his interest. He still wagged his tail to show he appreciated the chance to sniff it.

Nightshade would be staying for a while. Nettie’s worries flew away like dandelion seeds in a spring breeze, and a huge sigh of relief left the child. The dream draught wasn’t a goodbye gift, then — it was more like a hello gift from an amazing new friend. Nightshade had also suggested Samhain would be returning, which sparked Nettie’s joy even more.

Too excited to keep her feet flat on the floor, Nettie bounced in place and beamed up at Nightshade with renewed enthusiasm. “Yes! You can stay, and we can play together! I’m good at playing, too. I know lots and lots of games. We can go outside, make flower crowns, and— and go to the river, and find kitties!”

She looked ready to sprint outside right away, so Bran cleared his throat and added a quiet comment of his own. “Likely still a bit wet outside from the rain. You ought to wait ‘til it’s dry for those games, yeah? Maude wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”

“Oh, um, then…” Nettie’s brow creased in thought for a moment. Maude had once asked her to write a list of indoor games to chase away her boredom on rainy days, which proved useful now, even if she couldn’t remember the whole list. “We could draw pictures or play pretend, or I could show you my room!”

Nightshade might have noticed Bran's falter but drew no attention to it, tight-lipped as long as Nettie was still around. All she did was giving him a knowing grin.

She showed Gruffud a pouch, not to have and to hold but to sniff. "Heyya pup-pup, I bet you don't need these but you can smell 'em if you want!"

Nettie's question and sudden change in tone caught Nightshade's attention. "Leave? But I just got here!" she giggled, not fully understanding the depth of the child's question and anxiety. After Gruff had enough of a whiff of the pouch in her hand, Nightshade stuffed it back into her bag. She tapped her chin with a single, manicured nail as if pondering.

"I talked with Ms. Maude an' I think I'm gonna stay for a little bit! At least until Sammy comes back. What do you say? I promise I'm like waaaay more fun to play with~" said Nightshade with a cheeky wink.

[thisislizheather]

Summer Saturdays Vol. 8

BAKING

I made these blue sky bran muffins because Nathan loves a bran muffin and they turned out great! Will add walnuts to the next batch.

COOKING

I was walking through the farmer’s market and was hit with the greatest idea of something to make: CAPRESE SCONES. So I found a recipe and it’s happening tonight. I’m going to use my already-made basil pesto (I use walnuts instead of pine nuts) instead of just plain basil leaves, so I can’t wait to see how it goes.

CRAVING

The baby tomatoes this time of year taste like candy. They are incredible.

Above Photo: Baby tomatoes from the Union Square Green Market, NYC

DRINKING

I made peach daiquiris for us and the only time I love an alcoholic frozen drink is at home. They’re so easy to make and it’s completely satisfying to just have one.

Above Photo: Peach daiquiri

EATING

I tried a sample of the Tropicana orange soft serve at Milk Bar and wow was it gross. What is happening with Milk Bar? No Thanksgiving croissant last year and now this?

Above Photo: The orange soft serve at Milk Bar

EXPERIENCING

I went to the restaurant Hillstone (my first time) and I have fallen in love (thank you to Irene for introducing me!). The service was outstanding and the food was ridiculously perfect. (And if you’re from Ontario, the vibe is extremely Canyon Creek-y, which obviously made me happier than I can express.) They bring you a chilled glass midway through drinking your cocktail and the salad plates come chilled, too. Is the secret to a perfect restaurant just chilling stuff? IT MIGHT BE.

Above Photo: Chilled glass at Hillstone, NYC

LISTENING

It has been so rainy and windy this week, it’s been amazing. My desk is right between two large windows so I keep the windows open wide mainly to hear all the wild weather noise. It’s a nice change from the garbage trucks and horns that are usually the norm.

LOVING

I cannot get enough of the RFK jokes. Haven’t seen a bad one yet.

Above Photo: Can we please make, “Looks like the worm is at the wheel” a common expression when someone is acting insane?

SHOPPING

I stopped by the best post office in the city in Union Square and got an insanely good stamp haul. I’ve been looking for those Lichtenstein ones for months.

Above Photo: A beautiful stamp might cure depression?

WATCHING

Saw Trap in theatres and liked two thirds of it! I also watched the horror movie Thanksgiving, which was actually pretty great. Surprising for me because I don’t love Eli Roth.

WEARING

I’ve abandoned my pink nails in search of something new. ‘Seas the Day’ by Essie is a minty-blue that I’m kind of loving.

Above Photo: Essie ‘Seas the Day’

Last week’s Summer Saturdays Vol. 7 can be found over here and I’m keeping a summer highlights section over here.

[sofarewellthen]

So farewell then, Rainie Cross, You had quite the journey, From Phil’s crack-addict girlfriend, To Mrs Max Branning, To the manager of the funeral home with your next husband, Stuart, But now you’re gone, and all because he didn’t want the surrogate baby you both had with Bernie.

8th July, 2022

[mr-and-mr-mitchell]

Rainie and Stuart coming up with the same random as fuck alibi separately is the funniest, most crackhead energy thing I've ever seen and I love it