#oathkeeper replies to things

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Do we know why Aylin is/was known as the Nightsong? Shar is the Nightsinger, of course, but Aylin is Selune’s kid, not hers. Is it just a middle finger to Selune or is there some other reason?

Out-of-universe answer: originally, way, way back at the start of early access, the Nightsong was a Sharran, unwillingly participating in Ketheric's ritual, apparently also occasionally going through some sort of possession by Shar, and insisting to you, the player, that she wanted "to sing her own song, not Shar's, not Ketheric's".

Eventually, through a bunch of iterations of the story, this character became the Aylin we know today, but the Nightsong moniker remained - I assume since the whole Nightsong questline and mystery were well-known and established - even as its context and implications changed.

In-universe answer: the name is absolutely a cruel and derogatory thing, one that I think both Shar and Aylin's more mundane would-be captors get a kick out of. Shar stealing something as dear to her sister as her very daughter, and staking a claim on her like that, to the extent of doing away with her very name? What bigger middle finger could there possibly be?

Then, Ketheric, Balthazar, all of them - Lorroakan as well - do it very deliberately, effacing Aylin's identity and using this as another part of the dehumanisation and objectification, calling Aylin everything from a relic to a masterpiece to claiming her as their "creation" (this also serves to very conveniently and effectively obfuscate the truth of their whole operation). Ketheric, in one of his rooftop dialogues, makes it fairy clear, too:

Player: What of the Nightsong? Ketheric Thorm: I’ll keep her close. Aylin was her name - an angel of Selûne’s own brood, sent to guide and guard my line. Until she failed me. Ketheric Thorm: Now she is Nightsong. Balthazar’s greatest creation, and the source of my greatest strength. Ketheric Thorm: How often our burdens can be made into boons, with the right encouragement.

Lorroakan, when you get him flustered, keeps angrily but deliberately correcting himself to referring to "the Nightsong" as "it" whenever a "she" slips through. It's revolting! I simply adore Aylin's delivery of this taunting line related to all of that:

Dame Aylin: What are you so scared of, magus? Not the Nightsong, surely - why, she's nothing but a relic to be purchased and pursued.

And after all, it is not for nothing that Aylin refers to herself as "the so-called Nightsong" in her much lauded iconic chain-breaking release scene and exclaims that "the Nightsong is no more".

She even includes it as part of her long signature in her epilogue letter:

So yeah, "don't call her that" sounds like excellent advice.

[pinkpoweredpunk]

• pinned post •

heya, I’m Blake (they/them). ‘m an ace trainer from Galar, and- well- an ex-champion so if you recognize me that’s probably why. or maybe from the two disasters I helped stop-

anyways! I’ve done a bit of traveling these last few years, I’ve been to the isle of armor, crown tundra, and Kalos. but right now I’m back in my home region Unova for. college I Guess. I’m not super happy about it but whatever grr

this here’s my ace, Kappa. best Inteleon in the world <33

my current team bc update I ran away from the shitty college that didn’t let me have pokemon with me (don’t ask):

-King (F Serperior)

-Cordelia (F Simipour)

-Phaedra (F Krookodile)

-Kilobyte (M Eelektross)

-Lumi (F Chandelure)

-Beau (Swoobat)

other 'mons:

-Kappa (M Inteleon)

-Go-Go (F Coalossal)

-Lancelot (M Sirfetch’d)

-Jeanne (F Corviknight)

-Charlie (M Boltund)

-Venom (M Toxtricity)

-Red (M Delphox)

-Basil (M Sylveon)

-Granite (M Tyrantrum)

-Oathkeeper (M Aegislash)

-Verde (M Venusaur)

-Stardust (M Meowstic)

-Blister (F Charizard)

-Tulip (F Venusaur)

-Snart (F UD Archen)

-Athena (F Urshifu)

-Tater (F Flapple)

-Potato (M Galarian Slowpoke)

-Audun (M Flygon)

-Zuzu (F Dragapult)

-Azi (F Dreepy)

-Shiverbolt (Arctozolt)

-Alto (M Grookey)

-Oran (M Munchlax)

-Fwoofy (Cosmog)

-Stormy (M Sobble)

-Dewdrop (M Sobble)

-Nessa Jr. (F Sobble)

-Bubble (M Sobble)

-Neptune (F Sobble)

-Flick (F Vivillon)

-Snooze (M Snorlax)

-Pecha (F Grookey X Fomantis hybrid)

-Galahad (M Skarmory)

-Spark (M Galvantula ✨)

uhhh what are some other things about me. well besides pokemon training I enjoy drawing, martial arts, and camping! might post my doodles here from time to time. if I get the chance to go camping I’ll probably post vlogs about that too.

that’s about all you need to know I guess! feel free to shoot me an ask or message whenever you want

update: apparently I have that dog in me. and by that I mean I’m a therian. midday lycanroc most likely

———

Tag Directory:

#blake post - ic posts made by Blake

#blake rb - ic reblogs from Blake

#doodle tag - for either ic art by Blake or ooc art by mod (usually the former)

#ooc post - mod post

#blake plays hollow knight - literally just me livebloggging my first playthrough of hollow knight but as Blake

#wolf tag - blake posting stuff about their theriotype (rockruff/lycanroc)

#non-canon post - what it says on the tin. mostly for sillyposting

🍃 post- posts made by King

boo post- posts made by their Yamask, Boo

———

CURRENT ARC: Facets of Truth Arc

Summary: After a slight mishap, Blake finds themself on a spur of the moment journey around the Unova region.

Truth and ideals collide. Balance is put to the test. What outcome will this new formula present?

Tag: #facets of truth arc

Warnings: N/A (for now)

Mini Arc: N/A

Previous Arcs: #MMM: Rival Swap!, #MMM: Get Baby’d Idiot

———

//OOC

hiii Wren here! so this is basically a fresh restart of @pinkhairandpokemon. I decided it would be fun to start at the beginning of their Unova arc this time around. they’re 18 here, and just starting the main story of pokemon black!

I just got kinda… unmotivated to run their old blog anymore?? so I decided it was time for a refresh. SUPER excited to rp as this version of them

this Blake is probably going to be more… standoffish? I guess? not all-out mean but they’re kind of bitchier in this arc of their story (tbf they deserve to be after the shit they went through-) so while they’ll typically be chill in normal interactions they might be like. be a bit more snarky. I’m always scared of being too mean when I rp so please let me know if I need to tone it down!! ;w;

they’ll also probably be a little more discreet about being a chosen. for now anyway :3c they’ll still talk a bit about it but they won’t go super in detail about their powers

mod is 21, and follows from @scrappyscales, but if you need to contact me OOC go to @xgoldenlatiasx

blog list

Magic Anons: On (within reason, and I might not reply to them immediately)

Pelipper Mail/Malice: On

Musharna Mail: On

Union Circle: On

Askbox: Open

(IC hate anons are ok)

I think that’s everything but if you need me to specify if anything else is on lmk.

their old blog will be kept up for archival purposes if anyone still wants to check it out!

[xiolette]

hmm if you're doing requests... Roxas + Oathkeeper/Oblivion? I love your headcanons on that, and your writing is super nice, so seeing them in prose form would be sweet

Roxas was sprawled on the floor after a sparring session, breathing heavily from the exertion of just trying to keep up. Axel stepped on his hand and kicked his Keyblade away when he let go.

Axel sighed, “Y’know, at this point it’ll be months before you get solo mission privileges.” He knelt down but didn’t offer to help him up. “You throw all your weight around and tire yourself out before you can do anything.”

Roxas gasped and struggled to catch his breath, “You’re just too fast.”

“Please,” Axel snorted. “I’m not even the fastest one in the Organization and there are plenty of Heartless that are faster than me.” He stood up and put his hands on his hips. “You don’t need to keep up, y’know. All you need to do is defend and look for my weak points. No one’s asking you to run after me.”

Roxas pouted and looked forlornly at his disarmed Keyblade. He stretched out his hand and willed it to come back. It just sat there uselessly. It didn’t even glow. Roxas pouted even more.

“Still getting the hang of that?” Axel observed, not cruelly but not kindly either.

“I can do it.” Roxas insisted, before trying again.

Nothing happened.

Axel rose an eyebrow and strolled over to the Keyblade. He placed his boot on the hilt and pressed down until it dissolved into shards of light. He brushed the shards off his coat with the air of someone putting out stray embers. He hid his grimace and looked back at Roxas. “You need to learn how to break things.”

That was the biggest problem with the kid. As vicious as he could get, he was never vicious enough. Something always held him back and that was going to kill him someday. Axel hated to admit it, but he didn’t want to see the kid go quite yet.

He sighed and waited for Roxas to finally get up. Once he did, Axel swept out his leg to knock him down again.

Well, at least the kid finally learned that the fight isn’t over as long as the two were still in the training room - he jumped out of the way, barely wobbling on his landing. The Key was back in his hands in a flash - just in time to catch Axel’s Chakrams before they could slice across his face. Just as quickly, Axel dispelled his weapons and grabbed the Keyblade with his own hands. The audacity of the move loosened Roxas’ grip and Axel yanked the weapon away before it could burn through his gloves. As the Key clattered to the ground, Axel summoned his weapons and pushed Roxas back.

“You can’t keep dodging forever,” said Axel as he continued to block the way to the Key.

Roxas snarled and lunged. Axel kicked him in the stomach and watched him drop.

“Your focus should be on your enemy,” Axel nudged the boy over and placed his boot on his chest. The hatred in the kid’s eyes almost looked real. He ignored it and continued, “You’d be dead by now if this was an actual fight.”

Roxas struggled and clawed against his boot, but Axel pressed down.

“I’m not letting you leave until you call back your weapon.”

“And if I can’t?” Roxas spit.

In response, Axel pressed down even further. “If you can’t do something as simple as that, then there won’t be much use for you in the long run. Did you really expect me or the rest of the Organization to hold your hand forever?”

Roxas didn’t reply. His hand stretched towards the Key as if he could will it within his reach. His eyes screwed shut and beads of sweat formed at his hairline from the concentration. The more pressure Axel applied to his chest, the more the edges of his form seemed to flicker.

Axel felt something eerily close to pity slink around in his chest. “Let it go,” he said, lessening the pressure of his boot just enough for Roxas to catch his breath. “Whatever it is that’s holding you back, just let it go. Focus on the Light and snuff it out.”

Roxas paused, though the muscles of his arms and shoulders were still tense while the muscles of his eyes relaxed. His hand twitched, but still, nothing happened. Axel shook his head and prepared to shift his weight back to the boot on the boy’s chest.

Then, he noticed that the Key on the ground was gone.

He lept out of the way just in time to avoid Roxas slashing through his body with the new Key in his hands.

It was different from the one he held before. It was no longer a reflection of Sora’s. No, it was something else entirely: sharp and vicious and absolutely oozing with Darkness. Axel smiled wide, baring teeth that have grown a little too sharp in his rekindled excitement. Roxas was crouched low to the ground with his eyes trained on Axel. For the first time, his glowing blue iris’ actually froze Axel in place with how cold and impersonal they were.

In a flash, Roxas was in front of him.

If Axel was human, he wouldn’t have been able to dodge the vicious swipe aimed at his abdomen. He shifted his form and broke his back to let it bend in a way it wasn’t supposed to. Roxas responded by slashing at the legs that precariously held him up. There was such little time before the movement and the impact that Axel couldn’t quite avoid it. He tried to transport out of the way, but he still materialized on the other side of the room with a new cut on his leg.

With the added distance between them, Axel had enough time to further observe the new Key in Roxas’ hand. It was black, with a purple layer of dripping, pulsating Darkness covering it. The cut on his leg burned with it, like poison. He hissed in pain and cast as minor of an Esuna as he could that would alleviate the burn without wasting too much energy.

Roxas flash-stepped in front of him, already mid-swing. Axel was only just able to catch the blade with his Chakrams before the teeth could catch his face. He noticed the barbed keychain wrapped around Roxas’ hand and tilted his head. Interesting.

Roxas gnashed his teeth and pressed down even harder. Axel dispelled his Chakrams and leaned to the side, punching Roxas in the gut when he overbalanced.

“Good effort,” he commended, as the kid wheezed. “You actually managed to get a decent hit on me,” The hit was more than decent with the Poison effect on top of it, but he didn’t want to stroke the boy’s ego too much.

“I’m not done yet,” Roxas spit, still holding to his Key for dear life. Axel only just noticed the blood dripping from his hand, the slashes on his glove from the barbed chain.

“You are,” Axel replied, simply, strolling out of the training room to emphasize his words. “You have a fighting chance out here, now. Congrats.”

The kid’s glare was different than it was before. There was an actual hint of danger now - he finally earned his place as a real threat and he seemed to know that.

Axel smiled, friendly in all but intention. “Same time tomorrow, Key-Bearer.”

He walked away before Roxas could respond, but the cold blue of his glare followed him down the hall.

[weemsfreak]

My Hero

Larissa Weems/Brienne of Tarth x fReader

Quick one shot I thought would be sweet! Reader loves Brienne of Tarth, and to her utter surprise, Brienne has been in front of her all along. ~2.5k words.

You were on your way to Principal Weems' office, relieved to be finished with your exams. Your students had done exceptionally well with Chemistry and Potions this term, and you were happy to report their success (and yours) to the astonishing headmistress.

You proudly glided through the halls, letting out a giggle when you reached Principal Weems' office doors. You knocked and entered when you heard her inviting voice call you in. She sat at her desk typing on her laptop, and smiled brightly when her eyes met your figure entering her office. "Hi Principal Weems, I just wanted to drop off my students exams!" you chirped. She chuckled, "My, my, you seem happy." As your eyes drifted from the exams to hers, you blushed. "Oh, I'm so pleased with my students performances this term! They worked very hard, and it paid off." Principal Weems nodded as she gestured for you to place the exams on her desk, "I'm so glad to hear that, darling." You plopped the exams down on her desk, bending down slightly in front of the older woman to sort through the exams. Larissa couldn't help but glance at your chest, it was right in front of her face, after all. You were wearing a dark button up v neck, which was rather fitting to your form. She decided she should look away before you caught her staring, but she did a double take when she got a look at your necklace. She tilted her head in question, was that? No, probably not. "I like your necklace" Larissa said, reaching her hand out and taking it between her fingers. You looked down at the sword around your neck, now in the hands of this fine woman. "Oh, Oathkeeper! Did you watch Game of Thrones?" you replied happily. Larissa smiled as she looked over the small replica, she knew it was Oathkeeper. "I have watched it, actually. I take it you like Brienne of Tarth?" Your face lit up in excitement, you loved Game of Thrones, especially Brienne, and you loved talking about it. "I love Brienne of Tarth!" you exclaimed, looking down at the woman who's head was tilted and eyelashes batting at you. Larissa laughed to herself, how ironic. "Would you like to watch it together sometime?" she said, intrigued by your love of the show. Your eyes lit up and you almost jumped up and down, "Yes! I would love to!"

Frantically, you ran around your house tidying up last minute things. You had snacks and wine, you were all ready for Larissa to come over for your Game of Thrones night. You were ecstatic and you had been all day, basically almost bouncing off of the walls. If there was one thing you loved, it was Game of Thrones, but if there was one thing you loved more, it was Larissa Weems.

Watching Game of Thrones with Larisa Weems was crazy, a dream, the best night of your life. You cuddled up in your blanket next to the woman and started the show from season two episode three. You would never start at season two if you hadn't watched it before, but you both agreed that you could start where Brienne came in, as you had already seen season one. "AHH oh my god!" You screamed when Brienne made her appearance, taking her helmet off and kneeling to the king. "She's so hot" you added, unable to contain the smile on your face. Larissa watched as you had a small freak out over Brienne, and she couldn't contain her laughter. She brought a hand to her mouth as she laughed with amusement, her body shaking with giggles. You blushed as you watched her run out of breath with laughter, "What?!" Larissa laid a hand on yours to tell you that it was okay, as she couldn't speak, she was still laughing. "Nothing darling, y-you're just so cute" she giggled. You put on a fake frown and turned back to the show.

You paused the show after an episode to run to the washroom. Larissa went too, walking through your bedroom to get to it. When she was finished, she walked slowly back through your room, glancing around at your things. She knew that she was snooping, but she couldn't help that she craved to know you better, know how you lived, what things you were into. The Oathkeeper necklace caught her attention again, as she saw it placed on your vanity. It had it's own little sword holder, and she scrunched her nose up in amusement. Larissa walked through the hallway back to you, and found a photo of Daenerys and Brienne on your wall. Her lips curled into a big smile as she shook her head, you were obsessed, an adorable, endearing kind of obsessed. She couldn't wait to tell you.

"So, who are your favorite women on the show" Larissa asked with a smirk, wrapped in your blanket on the couch with you. You looked to the tv, then back at her. "Ah, that's a good question. I like Melisandre, oh and Sansa. Cersei is a bitch, sorry I had to say it!" you put your arms up in false surrender. Larissa snickered, "What about Brienne?!" Your eyes widened, "I didn't get to her yet! I was going to say that I like them, but she's my favorite!" you laughed, swatting at Larissa's arm.

You were invested in the show, laying on your side with your head on the arm rest of the couch. Larissa admired you from the other end, your love for Brienne brought warmth to her chest. Your passion was absolutely adorable when you were into something or someone, but the fact that you were interested in her, without knowing that it was her, was hilarious. It boosted Larissa's confidence and made her giddy. You looked over at Larissa, pulling yourself away from the show. Game of Thrones captivated you, but so did she. You sat up and scooted closer to Larissa, gazing fondly over her facial features. Larissa sounded like Brienne of Tarth, you had noticed before. She was tall like her, and she had the same piercing blue eyes. Perhaps that was why you liked them both so much, they were brave fighters and beautiful women. Larissa turned her attention towards you as you revelled in her beauty. Her lips were a similar shape to Brienne's, and she had that same upper lip scar. She had the exact same face shape, and she had that small nose dent. Wait, did Brienne have that? You swivelled your head around to catch Brienne's face on the tv, she did. "You look a lot like Brienne of Tarth" you said to Larissa, eyes wide, now kind of spooked. She tilted her head to the side and frowned, "What do you mean?" You looked back and forth between her and Brienne on the show, "You literally look exactly like her! You have her bright eyes, her cute lips, her scar, her height, her accent. You're both pale and blonde, you are basically the same person!" A huge grin slowly lit up Larissa's face, you called her cute, and you were figuring it out. She furrowed her brows and looked at the tv, "I don't see it. Who plays Brienne anyway?" You scoffed and looked up the actress who played Brienne of Tarth on your phone. You showed it to Larissa, "Her name is Laura Winters, but when you look her up, there's nothing except Brienne of Tarth photos. She must've used a fake name, she's hiding from me" you grumbled. Larissa let out a snicker, but refrained from giving too much away. You were so innocent and so close to the truth, but you just couldn't reach it on your own. She was really excited to see your reaction when she told you.

Larissa giggled down at you as your eyebrows furrowed. You were concentrating very hard and frantically searching the web for more information on 'Laura Winters'. She smiled, her pearly whites showing, "Would you come with me for a moment darling? I want to show you something."

It was only about five years ago that Larissa had become Principal of the Academy, and about five years ago when she had finished filming Game of Thrones. Not many people knew that Larissa was in the show, as she was a teacher all the while she was filming. She was into acting for about ten years, but left once Game of Thrones ended. She was glad to be able to express herself and tap into her androgenous side over the years, even dyeing and cutting off her hair at the beginning of the show and gaining muscle mass for her roll. In the end though, she decided that she preferred her usual feminine self. So, she focused on education and outcast relations, as that was more important to her than acting.

Larissa had used a fake name, never did interviews, or showed up to any events during her acting career. She always knew that she wanted to continue in her career in education, and she didn't want her fame to somehow affect her reputation. Seeing how flustered and determined you were to figure out who Brienne of Tarth was made her crack, she had to tell you.

"Come in love" she said, opening her apartment door for you. You walked in and followed her, confused. "Wow, your place is so nice" you said, looking around at her décor. "Thank you darling, but I think I have something that you will like even more." You tilted your head, did she have something for you? She sat on her bed and pat the spot next to her. You sat down and she took your hand, smiling ear to ear. "I want to tell you something, but I don't think that you're going to believe me." You furrowed your brows. "Um, okay" you said, looking around her room. Was there something you were missing? Larissa took a deep breath and leaned down close to whisper in your ear. "Can you keep a secret?" You shivered at her proximity, her breath warm against your skin. "Yes" you whispered. She chuckled lowly and held out her pinky, "Promise?" You wrapped your pinky around hers and locked it, "Promise." Larissa chuckled, you were too cute. "I am Brienne of Tarth" she whispered. You pulled back, "Uh, no? You're Larissa Weems!" Larissa nodded her head, "Yes, I am Larissa Weems, but I played Brienne of Tarth before I was principal."

Your eyes darted around the room, you couldn't wrack your brain around it. She was probably just messing with you, but it was kind of funny. "Well why aren't you famous then? Why doesn't 'Laura Winters' say 'Larissa Weems'? Why aren't you still acting? Why are you here?!" Larissa couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction, it was what she was expecting. "Darling, I used a fake name. Laura Winters, Larissa Weems" she said, holding one hand up and then the other, showing that it was a clue. Your jaw dropped, that could make sense. You narrowed your eyes at the woman, "You do look exactly like her, but I still don't believe you." You would never believe that Larissa Weems was Brienne of Tarth. Not because it was impossible, but because your favorite character couldn't be real, she couldn't be sitting in front of you, could she? "I will prove it to you darling" Larissa cooed, standing and walking into her closet. She came out a minute later, holding a sword. She presented it to you and you jumped off of the bed, running to her. "Oathkeeper?!" you screamed, placing your hands over your mouth in complete shock. Larissa nodded down at you, "Oathkeeper." You stared down at the sword, you didn't know what to do. "Can I hold it? Please?" you smiled, reaching out for it. You took it from Larissa and held it, it was heavy. "How the hell did you fight with this? It's so heavy!" you exclaimed, swinging it around carefully. "I used to be stronger" Larissa chuckled. You admired the details of the hilt, it was very intricate. "Okay, so you're serious? You're really Brienne of Tarth? How do I know you don't just have a model of Oathkeeper? How do I know this is real?" Larissa shrugged her shoulders, "Good point." She disappeared back into the closet and came out with a piece of Brienne's black armour. "Oh my fucking god!" you screamed, taking the armour from her. Your mouth was open and your eyes wide, you said nothing else as you stared down at the black metal.

"Darling? Are you alright?" Larissa said, looking down at you with concern. You dropped the armour and sword on the bed and threw yourself at the woman, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her close. Larissa let out an "oof" when you hugged her, but she adored your eagerness and melted into your comfort. She embraced you back, giggling at your reaction. "You're my hero" you murmured against her chest. Larissa's brows furrowed, "Brienne is your hero?" You smiled, pulling back slightly to look into her deep blues. "Yes, Brienne is my hero." Larissa smirked and brought her hand up to caress your cheek. "But so are you" you smiled. Larissa's smile dropped. "Me?" she questioned. "Yes, you. Brienne of Tarth, Larissa Weems, you're my hero. You're inspiring Larissa. You're gentle, beautiful, intelligent, and you're the bravest person that I've ever met. Hell, you have so many talents it's crazy." Larissa's expression changed to one of appreciation and joy as her lower lip quivered. She breathed out lowly, "Really?" You took her face in your hand and nodded sincerely, "Really. Thank you for sharing this with me." Larissa batted her lashes as ger gaze fell to the floor, she was suddenly shy. She pulled you closer to her and you buried your head in her chest. You always thought of Larissa as one of your heroes, but all of this time you didn't know that she was your ultimate hero. Brienne of Tarth, you were hugging Brienne of Tarth. What was even better though, was that you were hugging Larissa Weems. You giggled against Larissa, almost sending yourself into a laughing fit. "What?" Larissa asked, snorting quietly at you. "I called you hot" you said, smiling up at her. She scrunched her nose up as she beamed down at you. "Yes, you did" she replied with a wink.

You pulled away blushing and picked up the armour, holding it out to Larissa. "Well, I won't truly believe you until you put on her armour." She hesitantly took it and narrowed her eyes at you, then she smiled. She left for a few moments to change, then presented herself to you in full armour with a huge grin on her face. You passed Oathkeeper to her and took in the image before you in awe. You nodded in acceptance and excitement, beaming at the woman before you. "Brienne of fucking Tarth."

[innanzituttoticalmi]

sorry but just wanted to riff on f1 driver jamie lannister and feel too shy to butt in on the og post... but i had to add... brienne as his new teammate...

ANON ily i have been thinking and writing rambling drafts of a reply to this message for an hour now! please always feel free to butt in, i know elle wouldn't mind either!

okay so oh my god, yes i know i mentioned loras as the charles parallel (YOUNGER AND MORE BEAUTIFUL) but i kept thinking about it afterwards and realised brienne of course has to be part of his narrative too! maybe the first female formula 1 driver signed to a team full time?? idk but she'd be legendary in this universe as well of course

so here's what i've got so far:

tywin as the son of a driver in the lower formulas who never made it f1. maybe he only won f2 after 5 years there like it seems vershoor will do this year, and everyone in the racing world mocked him for it. tywin did make it f1 but never won a championship. he wants to Establish A Racing Dynasty

tywin definitely would straight up buy a team just so his son can race and also poach all the best engineers to build him the fastest car. luckily for him, jaime also happens to be incredibly talented so his plan works out and they probably dominate for 10 years straight, very likely with extremely shady fia interference and sketchy safety cars. it's tywin. which means jaime is the undisputed most successful driver ever but also pretty universally disliked by the "honourable" racing fans

in asoiaf loras is the new hotshot knight who joins the kingsguard and replaces jaime as the Best Knight Ever, he's the one jaime resents for taking his place as he's grown older/lost his hand. so I think i'd want to keep that and still make loras the start of his f1 downfall, the one to join Jaime's own team and unexpectedly beat him his first year there. (sebchal you will Always be famous)

I would want jaime's injury to fit in here somewhere, but im not fussy on the details tbh. it could have happened in the winter break before loras joins, and you could make it the reason for his decline, or it can happen during/after that year and be the reason he's pushed out of the team. or maybe he crashes while pushing the car, trying to prove something, hurts his hand and has to sit out some races. many possibilities!

and after loras, enter brienne!! the partner/rival duality of the f1 teammate relationship fits so well with braime's vibe at the start, where they're forced to work together even as they initially despise each other, so here they have a shared goal (in theory. idt jaime really cares about wccs*) but also desperately want to beat each other

*but brienne does!! she cares about the team fiercely, and ofc MAKES HIM CARE too

I cannot see tywin signing a woman to drive his car, but i can see him either pushing out his own son who has "disgraced" himself / jaime leaving in shame to another team which would be peak angst I can get behind

oh man. jaime to Ferrari in his washed ex-wdc era. that would be so fucking funny. sold.

I think, I would want brienne to start in f1a actually, because asoiaf brienne is so involved in other women's storylines and I don't want her to be The One Good Woman in this au either. catelyn would play the susie wolff role as f1a director, trying to get her a spot on the grid because brienne is just so absurdly talented. maybe she'd be in the fda too, which is how she meets jaime, but not immediately his teammate, just someone he sees around as she moves up to f3/f2, and eventually he sees her race and cannot deny her talent. after a couple of years, HE insists she deserves the seat beside him and ferrari goes, what the hell. sure (oathkeeper!!)

so actually BRIENNE LA PREDESTINATA VINCE!!! this thing has layers

jaime had been kinda coasting in his washed era but the push-pull with brienne reignites his passion for racing and he finally gets to understand the Power of The Red Dream idk I think i've had him in purgatory for 5 years at this point. poor guy

he retires the year after Brienne gets her first wdc

Brienne wins 6 wdcs in a row MINIMUM. undisputed legend of the sport AND she gets her street named after her in Maranello <3

aaand that's all i have, random ideas free to a good home, folks

[drymushroomfics]

Reminiscing

Sandor Clegane x Female Reader

Previous Next

Chapter Four

You sit up, looking around. Brienne is standing close by, looking confused.

"Podrick, where are our horses?", she asks.

You stand up quickly, realizing all three horses are gone. Panic sets in, and you're quick to gather your things.

"I hobbled them.", Pod replies to her.

"How did you hobble them?"

"A figure eight, like you taught me."

"If you did it like I taught you, then the horses would be here!"

"Are you lot done? Maybe we can find who took them if we get a move on?", you suggest.

Brienne looks at you with a nod.

"It's at least 30 miles to the Eyrie from here. You're carrying the saddlebags.", Brienne snaps at Pod.

He nods and quickly gathers their bags.

You all start walking toward the Eyrie.

Your mind starts to wonder as your eyes scan the trail ahead of you.

You were always fiesty. You never let anyone treat you with too much disrespect. You always stood up for yourself. That's what got you into trouble, mostly.

Maybe that's what Sandor Clegane liked about you the most. He always called you bullheaded.

You remember one night when you'd mouthed off to King Joffrey and Meryn Trant blackened your right eye. Sandor had been furious at you for talking back to the King, but he'd been even more furious with Trant.

"You have to be more careful, y/n... What would you expect me to do if the King had ordered me instead of Meryn fucking Trant?", he lectures you.

"I would've expected you to do your duty, Sandor."

"You want me to hit you?"

"No..."

"You've got to hold your tongue, bunny... Or I might not be able to stop it next time."

"Fine... But does that mean you'll pay Ser Meryn Trant a little visit?", you ask with a smirk.

"I'm going to teach that cunt what happens when he puts his hands on what's mine."

"Yours?"

"Aye."

He pulled you close and kissed you deeply.

He had threatened him and cornered him later that night. He left him with his own black eye. He figured it was fair to give him what he gave to you.

You had never seen anyone stick up to anyone for you. It warmed your heart.

You're still not sure why he wasted all that time on you. If he had no problem leaving you at Blackwater, then why did he care if Trant beat you?

You're pulled out of your thoughts by Pod and Brienne.

"I see the horses.", Pod says, relieved.

You're also relieved when you spot your mare up ahead.

That's when you also spot Arya Stark. You feel your heart beating faster.

"Morning.", Brienne smiles at her.

"Morning.", she replies, swinging around a small sword.

"I like your sword. Are we getting close to the bloody gate?", she asks her.

"About 10 miles more."

"Did you hear that, Pod and y/n? Only ten miles to the bloody gate."

"Are you a knight?"

"No."

"But you know how to use a sword?"

"I do.

Brienne gestures to you, "She's quite mean with a dagger."

"Does your sword have a name? Or your dagger? I've never heard of people naming daggers though."

"Oathkeeper.", Brienne responds.

"Memorial.", you respond, unstrapping it from your leg.

"Mines needle.", Arya tells you.

"Good name.", you reply.

"Who taught you how to fight?", she asks both of you.

"My father taught me.", Brienne replies.

"I taught myself.", you reply as well.

"My father never wanted to. Said fighting was for boys."

"Mine said the same, but I kept fighting the boys anyway. Kept losing, and finally father said, If you're going to do it, you might as well do it right.", Brienne explains.

Your heart practically leaps out of your throat when Sandor walks up to the four of you. Confusion and annoyance on his face.

"Seven blessings. I'm Brienne of Trath. This is Podrick Payne and my friend Y/N.", Brienne introduces.

Sandor looks directly at you, and his eyes widen for a moment.

"You want something?", he asks.

"That's Sandor Clegane. The Hound.", Pod says, fear laced in his tone.

"You're Arya Stark.", Brienne says, a relieved look on her face.

You're guessing she didn't know what either of the two looked like.

"I asked if you wanted something.", Sandor repeats, putting his hand on the handle of his sword.

"I swore to your mother, I would bring you home to her.", Brienne tells Arya.

"My mother's dead.", she replies."I know. I wish I could have been there to protect her."

"You're not a Northerner."

"No. But I swore a sacred vow to protect her."

"Why didn't you?"

"She commanded me to bring Jamie Lannister back to Kingslanding."

"No?", Sandor quiestions, stepping closer to her, "Fancy sword you've got there. Where'd you get it?... I've been looking at Lannister Gold all my life. Go on, Brienne of fucking Tarth, tell me that's not Lannister gold."

"Jamie Lannister gave me this sword."

"The bloody gates ten miles!", Arya chimes in, her voice growing loud.

"I swore to your mother by the Old Gods -"

"I don't care what you swore!"

"Arya!"

"You heard the girl! She's not coming with you."

"She is."

You watch as they draw their weapons.

"You're not a good listener. Valaryian steel... I've always wanted some Valaryian steel."

"Come with me, Arya. I'll take you to safety.", Brienne offers.

"Safety?! Where the fuck's that? Her aunt in the Eyrie's dead. Her mother's dead. Her father's dead. Her brother's dead. Winterfell's a pile of rubble. There's no safety, you dumb bitch. If you don't know that by know, you're the wrong one to watch over her.", Sandor exclaims, regusing to back down.

You feel so much rage and anger coursing through you. You waited for this day to come, and you will give him what he deserves.

"And that's what you're doing, Clegane?!", you chime in, moving next to Brienne.

"What the fuck are you doing, y/n?"

"Still remember me? I'm surprised. You haven't seen me since... Since you left Kingslanding, I believe."

"You don't understand."

"I understand, and I don't need some fucking excuse, dog! You're trying to watch over this girl?! How?! You swore to protect me once and look where that got me. Do you really think the safest place for anyone is with you? You'll do nothing but poison them. That's all the bloody Clegane's are; A fucking poison."

Y/n lunges at him with her dagger and he's quit to dodge.

"Figured you'd learn something by now.", Sandor jokes, tapping his sword on the ground.

"Fuck you.", you spit, turning around and slicing meerly an inch from his face.

"You did. As I recall... A lot."

You groan, lunging at him again, this time he doesn't dodge fast enough and the handle of your dagger lands on his cheekbone, cutting it open.

"You're quick. Still like a bunny. Hopping about."

"Shut up.", you shout, your ears starting to ring.

He holds up his sword, "If you want to fight me, go ahead. That puny fucking dagger I gave you won't do much."

You hold it up anyway, trying not to think about the fact that he recognized it.

"I can hold my own quite well since someone decided to run and leave me on my own."

"I didn-"

He's cut off by you stalking toward him. He's always loved how fiery you were. It seems you hadn't changed.

He swings his sword and you dodge, using your quick reflexes to your advantage. You know you can wear him down.

You twist yourself around, knocking your shoulder into his back, full force. He stumbles a little. Not before elbowing right into your lip, busting it open.

You taste the blood and smirk as he turns toward you.

"You always were fuckin' stubborn.", he smirks back.

"So were you."

He barrels toward you suddenly, almost catching you off guard. You dodge once more, lowering yourself to kick right between his legs. He groans, dropping to his knees. That's when his sword unexpectedly catches your arm, cutting a huge gash.

"Fuck.", you groan, feeling the burning pain.

You look up, realizing you and him have slowly fought your way up a mountain.

"Bastard.", you grit out.

He takes in a breath, looking at you and noticing your arm. Something flashes through his eyes.

"I didn't fucking leave you!", he yells.

"Of course you fucking did, Sandor! I waited... You never bloody came... I waited!", you yell back, tears welling in your eyes.

Out of nowhere, Brienne steps in front of you, holding her sword to his throat.

"I have no wish to kill you, ser.", she says, "But I will if it means saving my friend and the girl."

You move back a little watching them, ready to help at any moment.

Sandor grabs her sword with both hands, squeezing. Blood oozes from them.

"I'm not a knight.", he growls before pushing her sword out of the way and landing a blow to her cheek.

Everything moves so fast as they brawl. Your head spins watching them roll around on the dirt. When Brienne starts to scream and land blow after blow with a rock, you feel bile forming in your throat. You realize that you can't let him die. Not without answers.

"Brienne, stop!", you yell.

You grab her around the waist and she falls to the ground. You look up and your eyes widen as he falls from the cliff edge.

"No!", you scream, standing.

"This is what you wanted!", she yells at you."I need to know the truth , Brienne!" You run as fast as you can, trying to make it to the bottom.

You can hear them yelling for Arya and you don't care.

When you find him, Arya's kneeling over him. You watch her grab his coin satchel and leave. You don't bother going after her. You know Brienne will surely find her. It's not your job to interfere with her plans.

You turn your attention to Sandor.

You can hear him choking on his own blood as you step closer. He turns, looking at you.

You kneel down to him and he grabs at your arm, blood still soaking through your tunic at the gash.

Every pint up feeling you've had for Sandor starts to pour out of you and you start to cry.

You touch his cheek, "I've hated you for so long... Now look at you. Revenge doesn't feel as good as people say."

He almost laughs.

"I di-din't leave you, y-y/n... I se-searched for you."

You've never heard such pain and sadness in his voice. It almost breaks your heart to hear and you hate yourself for it.

He chokes again, more blood running from his mouth. His eyes meet yours and his hand finds yours. You find yourself holding it. You haven't felt his touch in so long. Your body naturally reacts and you sniffle, trying not to cry again.

"Please... kill me."

You can see tears welling in his eyes. You pick up your dagger with your good hand, moving it to his heart.

Taking a breath, your hand starts to shake.

"I-I can't... I wanted to for so long, but... I can't."

You look up and realize his eyes have closed.

[adamantineheart]

@oathkeeper-of-tarth replied to your post “watching clips of bad choices and i need aylin to...”:

Yup, I think upon learning that the first thing he does to her is *has her tadpoled* is when the last atom of sympathy for Ketheric left my body. Oh, but the one that really messed me up was this variant: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxgALIIzaDs

​oh god I was wondering if this was possible NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[voidedgear]

The clash of their blades creates sparks that reflect off Vanitas' helmet. It's impossible to know what kind of expression he's making beneath it. All Roxas will be able to see is a distorted view of himself looking down at him. He presses down hard, but Roxas is a stalwart.

So, Vanitas vanishes again, reappearing out of range and holding his Keyblade in an offensive position.

"Two, huh? You've got more of him than I thought." Two gifts, passed down from Sora and Ventus each. Vanitas can feel the connection between Oathkeeper and Oblivion like it's a physical thing. And why wouldn't he?

They were forged from the same hearts that Vanitas himself was connected to. It's a resonance that he would never fail to recognize.

He laughs now, and Void Gear sparks alight at the tip. Vanitas raises it up before swinging it forward to launch a dark firaga spell at Sora's Nobody.

What's his problem? Vanitas thought it was obvious.

He doesn't deign Roxas with a reply, however. Instead, he teleports forward to launch another dark firaga spell at him within seconds, trying to knock him off balance.

Roxas grit his teeth, his guard already up before Vanitas even finished speaking. he didn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him. and Roxas could throw far. he scoffed at the other's mocking tone, blue eyes narrowing at the term 'oh brother of mine', but said nothing in response. his hands curled slowly into fists at his side as he watched and waited for what Vanitas would do next. everything about the other boy screamed at Roxas to be careful. he couldn't afford to risk underestimating Vanitas, even if he was confident in his own skills and abilities. and then, he just HAD to say something else... and it was something that instantly triggered something in Roxas. it always happened whenever he was reminded of his Nobody origin. there was still a lot about that that bothered him. 『 ❝ what? what are you talking abo--. ❞ 』 before the words could even escape his lips, Vanitas was gone. eyes widening and instincts kicking in, Roxas immediately spun around and brought his arms up. Oathkeeper and Oblivion instantly appeared in his hands to block the sudden and unexpected attack. what the hell?! what was Vanitas thinking?! what was he hoping to accomplish doing this?! 『 ❝ are you nuts?! ❞ 』 as he spoke, Roxas pushed back against Void Gear with both his Keyblades, hoping to get the other to back off a bit while Roxas regained his senses. was he surprised by this? not really. he knew something was up the moment his saw the other summon his weapon. 『 ❝ what's your problem?! ❞ 』

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

How tall do you headcanon Isobel and Aylin to be?

I'm actually terrible with estimating and visualising heights and putting numbers to them, so I rely on those height chart websites if I ever want or need to be anything other than vague.

This looks... okayish to me? I think Isobel is of relatively average height and Aylin has about a head of height on her. So this would be... 5'5" and 6'7" or thereabouts. Could even shift it 5cm up and make Aylin a bit taller, honestly.

It's also hard for me to get a feel for anything much beyond "Aylin big" in the game because there is a lot of camera angle trickery, or just straight up shifting models around and having them hover in mid-air to get a nicer shot composition. You can see some hilarious things when you unlock the camera. Sometimes, like just after the reunion, Aylin is literally crouching to fit into the frame better, even though she's already standing a bit further back.

But the most important part, imo, absolutely vital, is this little animation of Isobel standing on tiptoes even when Aylin leans down to kiss her.

[inclightning]

Chapter 6,  Dreaming

     "Because…he…he is part of me." Ventus said

     "He's part of you?" Roxas questioned

     "Yeah, I'm not a whole person. I'm actually two…Ventus, and Vanitas. My heart was split in two and the Light and Darkness were separated. Because of that, I took refuge here so my heart can heal and I haven't left since."

     "Ven…I'm so sorry…" Xion said

     "So, what's up with you guys? Why are you here?" Ven asked

     "I'm here…because I'm Sora's Nobody. The part of him that was created when he became a Shadow." Roxas said

     "And…I'm here because the Organization …created me out of Sora's memories of Kairi…" Xion said

     "Kairi…I remember her…" Ventus said "She was here for a while and then one day, she left." Ventus said.

     "Well, enough of that." Roxas said "I'm going to bed"

     Roxas changed the Glass Tower into a small house. It had 2 bedrooms, a living room, a little kitchen, and 1 bathroom.

     "Wow Roxas, where'd you come up with this?" Ven asked

     "I don't know, just thought of a house I'd live in and made one." Roxas replied "Well, I'm going to bed, see you later."

     Roxas went into the first bedroom and laid down on the bed. Soon after he fell asleep. And started to dream.

     "Where…where am I?" Roxas looked around the dark expanse he awoke in. He wasn't seeing Sora; he was in his own dream.

     "Hello?" His voice echoed back to him.

     "Is anybody there?" He asked the Darkness

     "I'm here Roxas." A familiar voice told him

     "Xion! Where are you?" He asked

     "Right here…" A sinister voice replied

     Roxas turned around to see Vanitas holding Xion, only to see him strike her down.

     Roxas's heart sank to his stomach.

     "Xion!!"  He screamed as loud as he could.

     Nobody heard him.

     Vanitas approaches Roxas and summons his Keyblade.

     "How pitiful…" Vanitas laughs maniacally "You really love that…thing don't you?"

     Vanitas stabs Roxas straight through him.

     "Tell Ventus I said hello."

     Roxas looks behind the Dark figure standing before him, and sees Xion's body.

     "Xion…" Roxas raises his left hand in her direction.

     "Roxas…" she raises her hand towards him.

     Vanitas finishes him off and Roxas wakes up

      "Xion!!!" He shouted

     He had not realized it, but he summoned Oathkeeper in his raised left hand.

     "Roxas?" She steps into the room

     "Are you okay?" She asked

     Roxas stands up and hugs her.

     "Roxas what's wrong? " she asks him

     "Just…a bad dream…" he replied

     She holds him back and buries her head in his chest

     "Did you sleep well Xion?" Roxas asked her

     "No, I also had a nightmare…" Xion answered

     "Well, do you want to sleep in here?" He asked

     "Yes, I do." She responded. 

     They laid down on Roxas's bed and fell asleep in each other's arms. They dreamt of each other, happily…

END OF CHAPTER 6

[agentrouka-blog]

Thanks for the reply about the swords. I actually wanted to share that both Dark Sister and Lady Forlorn have dubious wielders and swords were described as blood thirsty. As you have mentioned that BR is in possession of DS and currently grooming Bran, Lady Forlorn is in possession of Lyn who hate LF and Sansa too fear him. There was meta about Joff sword had similar structure to Lady Forlorn. Things are not looking good for Sansa and Bran as Lyn and BR can do them harm.

Hi anon! (previous ask)

I remember that one!

It's almost like there's a theme that a fancy named sword does not a hero make. Only ever how you choose to wield it. A thirsty blade is the mark of villainy. Hearteater sounds hungry, too. As is Dany, the heart eater, when she hears a wolf howl in the grasslands. Sad and lonely (forlorn?) but no less hungry.

Brienne, with her ruby-clad reforged Ice-turned-Oathkeeper, Jon with his gifted bear-turned-wolf Longclaw, and Arya with her simple castle-forged Needle, come to my mind there. To each the sword is not "thirsty", though Arya has used it in wrath. The swords symbolize aspects of their identity. The knightly quest. An uncertain reward he ties to Ghost. The memory of family.

Galladon the Perfect Knight only ever drew the Just Maid in a fair fight, only thrice. She was not a thirsty blade, either.

Someone better than me needs to write a sword meta.

[dreadwulf]

Through the Fire, To the Limit, To the Wall

part one  

part two  

part three 

the original Part Four, which will now be Five

(Here’s a surprise chapter of Ring of Fire! Or at least it was a surprise for me. This will actually slot in as chapter 4 on AO3, as it takes place before Jaime arrives at King’s Landing in the Burning Down the House chapter.)

For Podrick, at least, it is a beautiful day.

He had been awakened with a surly shout by the Commander's squire Peck, who called the boys to order like they were real soldiers, and they had clamoured up and out of their beds with a minimum of dawdling and giggling. They were all ages and sizes, and they lined up by height, rearranging themselves anew every day with Pod shoved somewhere in the middle. 

When everyone else had been sent to break their fast, he, Podrick, had been taken on a special mission, stealthily retrieving Oathkeeper from the armory tent. Peck had distracted the quartermaster with conversation while Pod slipped inside, and he had been quiet as a mouse searching through the weaponry to find the valyrian steel sword enclosed in a fine case lined with velvet. The blade stood nearly as tall as him, and he had to smuggle it under his cloak, holding tight to the scabbard with his hands behind his back and even then he looked to have a second head, but somehow no one had questioned him when he reappeared at Peck’s side and they managed to steal away together without raising any alarm. 

Peck’s praise for that had been nearly as great a reward as being allowed to swing the sword himself, for just a few moments, before they put it back in the scabbard and brought it to the wood where Ser Jaime awaited them. 

Ser Brienne had been there as well. She stood right next to the Commander and yet they had looked very far apart. But still, she had smiled to see Podrick, and the two of them had been set on a pretty chestnut horse and sent riding off into a new adventure -- leaving Pod’s new friends behind, but back together with his lady knight, a squire once more.

All in all, it is a wonderful start to a day, and it is still yet morning. 

“Did you enjoy your time in the Lannister camp, Podrick?” Ser Brienne asks him. She rides ahead of him, while the squire grips her waist, and she turns her head only a little to address him, so that he cannot see her face.

“Oh yes, milady,” Pod answers her excitedly. “Do you think we could go back for a visit someday?”

She turns away at that, and does not answer. 

They ride without speaking for some time. They look to be going east, with the sun stabbing directly at them through the trees. He holds onto her only lightly. Pod knows she had been badly hurt, is still recovering, and he does not want to pain her. He wonders if she is really recovered - any time he catches a glimpse of her face, her brow is furrowed with pain. Perhaps they should have stayed with the Lannister army a day longer. 

“Where will we ride to next, milady Ser?” he pipes up. 

Still she does not answer.

Ser Brienne has always kept herself to herself, and Podrick is accustomed to this. He feels fine riding silently with her, and today it is especially grand to be in her company again. It’s always all right either way, whether he talks or not. If he stammers she will not laugh at him, or hurry him along impatiently and push him through each sentence as Lord Tyrion used to. No, the quiet around her has room for him to finish his thoughts, and often in her company his stuttering lifts and he can speak quite normally. Or he can be quiet as a mouse, and she will not think him stupid or forget he is there.

There is often a great deal on her mind, and sometimes she is lost in her thoughts and does not answer him. But Ser Brienne remembers things he says even if she doesn’t reply. She always remembers Pod. She always makes sure he has food to eat and a warm place to sleep. She has been teaching him to fight with a sword, just because he asked her to, and she is a patient and forgiving teacher. If she promises him something she will do it without fail. She is solid and reliable and when there is danger she will be there to meet it first of anyone, and she would never run off and forget him or abandon him to a nasty fate. He knows that as surely as he knows the sun will rise. Pod is safe around Ser Brienne, though that is not a word or a sense that he is familiar with. He does not remember having a single home, or parents, but he remembers sleeping soundly under the stars with Ser Brienne watchful over him in the dark night, and that feeling must be much the same. 

Brienne stops them just before they reach Maidenpool. A train of wagons are rolling out of the growing settlement with a moderate guard. They wait a little ways back from the road.

“Lord Tarly’s men,” Podrick identifies the banner. “Allies of King Renly, and of the Tyrells.”

“Lord Tarly is no ally of mine,” she says darkly, and in a lower tone adds, “but what allies have I left?”

He tugs at her sleeve. “Should we tell him of Ser Hyle?” 

Ser Brienne frowns harder somehow. “What would we tell him? No. We avoid Lord Tarly for now.”

When the train has passed, they ride cautiously into Maidenpool. The streets are crowded, but all are about their own business -- moving livestock, doing morning chores. No one gives them a second glance. 

They pass the bathhouse, newly festooned in banners to cover the faded bloodstains on the stone. Women congregate all around it, dressed in bright colors, hair wet and shining in the morning sun.

“Maidenpool looks a fair sight better than it did when we saw it last,” Podrick says, attempting to be cheerful.

He expects her to still be surly and silent, and he is surprised when she stops the horse and answers him instead.

“When first I saw this place, the waters were bloated with corpses, and the streets filled only with burnt-out husks of buildings. Archers ambushed us here, and Ser Jaime and I fought them off.”

Pod blinks back at her. That must have been when Ser Jaime had been her prisoner, on the journey back to King’s Landing. She speaks of that rarely, even less than she speaks of everything. And then she looks back at him, as though she has just remembered that he is there.

“Do you know the tale of Jonquil’s Pool?” Brienne asks him abruptly.

“Yes, milady.” Pod offers it eagerly, leaning towards her. “The knight Ser Florian the Fool saw the lady Jonquil bathing there with her sisters, and he fell in love. Or at least, that’s the part I know.”

Brienne’s expression is distant and unreadable. She looks at the ladies going in and out of the bathhouse, and holds the reins tightly in her hands.

“He was a homely man, Florian. Picture him more patchwork than shining. His armor was mismatched and his reputation spotted. He was only a hedge knight and not well-born. He was no possible match for a highborn maid. But when he saw Jonquil in the bath he could not help but fall in love with her, for she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Despite everything, he could not help himself. And in time he won her heart, through many trials and heartaches, he won her.” 

Pod shrugs. “Those songs are for girls perhaps. I haven’t heard those parts. They never sang them for me.”

“Perhaps they are.” She darkens palpably, her face dipping down into shadow. “I used to love those songs. When I was a girl, or something like it. But I admit it was foolish, Pod. Life isn’t a song.”

She spurs her horse to ride on.  

“Could you sing it for me, milady?” His innocent face turns up to her. “One of the songs about Florian and Jonquil?”

She snorts. “Ser Jaime could have sung you Six Maidens in a Pool, with great enthusiasm.”

There is an odder silence after that. 

“Do you want to look at the pool, milady Ser? We could stop at the Bathhouse.”

“I’ve never seen it,”  she concedes faintly. “Though I’ve been past this way thrice before. But it’s a place for fine ladies, Pod. Not for me.”

Instead they stop at a stream on the other side of Maidenpool. This one is a fairly ordinary pool, fed by a small spring. Before the winter there would have been flowers, and one can see where they would have been. Now there are only sickly shrubs. The water, though, is lovely and clear. 

Brienne dismounts her horse and kneels, suddenly, at the side of the stream. For an odd moment, it seems as though she will remove her riding gear and wade into it. She did after all never get that bath she had been promised. Instead she only leans forward and cups her hands in the water, splashing her face. She leaves her hands covering her face a moment too long, and when she removes them she stares down into the mirrored surface of the water for a long while. 

“Pod,” she says very seriously, “did you fare well amongst the boys at the camp? Were you well treated?”

“Yes Milady,” Pod nods eagerly. “They have their own tent and it’s bigger, much bigger than the one we use, and dry and warm and they sing and tell tales all the night through. Then we rode in the wagons and slept when the army moved and at dusk we could run and play until full dark and then we got real meat to eat. Jossmyn Peck, Ser Jaime’s squire, he said he would spar with me sometime, we never did though…”

Brienne nods back slowly. “Were they frightened? The other boys?”

Pod frowns at her quizzically. “No. Should they be?”

“I suppose not.” Brienne looks up and down the road swiftly. “Would you like to go back to them for a time?”

He frowns harder. “Aren’t we on a quest, milady?”  

“I am. You are not.” She stands. 

“I’m your squire.”

“I don’t have a squire. I’m not a knight.” She rubs her face again, leaving it wet and shining. “I’m a foolish girl who’s a long way from home, and I don’t know what to do next.”

“You are a knight really.” Pod argues with her stubbornly. “You’re the best knight I’ve ever seen, better than the Kingsguard and Ser Hyle and the knights we met on the road--”

“But I’m not. I thought I could be, if I were only so perfect and honorable that no one could find any fault in me, and I could fight better than everyone else, then they would have to knight me, they would have no choice. But I’m none of those things, Pod. I promised to protect Lady Catelyn, and instead she was slain. I promised to see her daughters freed from King’s Landing and they were already gone. I promised to see Ser Jaime safe to King’s Landing, and he lost his hand along the way. I promised to rescue Lady Sansa, and I cannot find her, much less see her safely home. I promised to restore Ser Jaime’s honor, and instead I betrayed him.”

“We can still find Lady Sansa,” the boy says stubbornly. “We haven’t looked everywhere yet.”

“We have no leads. There was only rumor to go on and even that has run dry. She could be anywhere now, she could be in the North or in the Reach, or in the Vale, or even across the Narrow Sea. We cannot search everywhere.” Her head bows forward, and her cheeks are wet.  “And what would I say if ever I found her? Shall I tell her how I failed her mother, and what she became? How then would I convince her that I can protect her? I cannot even convince myself.”

“You can protect her! You can protect anybody!”

“No, I can’t. I couldn’t protect Dick Crabb, I couldn’t protect Ser Hyle Hunt or Septon Merribald, I couldn’t protect the children at the orphanage, and I couldn’t protect you.” Her eyes fix, noticeably, on Podrick’s neck, where he knows an angry red burn around his throat still marks him. “I will never be knighted, and there is no place that I belong. Perhaps I should just return home.”

Brienne looks very sad. She has looked this way ever since they left the camp this morning. 

Podrick hates how sad she looks. He wracks his brain for something to say that might make her not look so sad. 

“Don’t worry, Pod,” Ser Brienne interrupts his thoughts. She is trying to smile. “All will be well.”

Podrick recognizes this smile. He has seen it before.

Ser Jaime had been angry when Podrick had met him, though he was trying not to show it. He had reassured him, and even made jokes, but something had seethed beneath it. The golden commander had been formidable in his anger, a towering fit of ire, and it had frightened him. The Lion of Lannister, the Kingslayer, had a famous temper fit to topple kingdoms. In the face of it he had stammered and stumbled over his words and the man had been like to snap his head off in frustration, so impatient he had been. 

“P-please ser,” he had finally pleaded with him. “It should be me imp...p-prisoned and not her. She only meant to free me; she begged them not to m-make her do it. She begged them. Ser Brienne would not betray a friend, it was m-me, she did it for me. P-put me on a stake in the ground and let her go.”

Ser Jaime had abruptly left him when he said that, with an expression more of pain than anger.

Podrick thinks on him now as a lion with a wounded paw roaring to keep everyone back. The second time he had met him the lion had been only wounded and not roaring, and not quite so frightening. He had been kinder to him, that time. He had smiled more, but the smiles did not reach his eyes. He had many more questions that time, mostly about Ser Brienne. Though he had called her Lady, which felt strange. Lady Brienne. No one else on their journey had ever addressed her so, and not with that lightly mocking tone which somehow sounded fond and not cruel. He asked, the Lion, if Lady Brienne had ever spoken of him, and Podrick had to tell him no. 

What he should have told him was that her silence on that matter had been very loud indeed. That his Lady kept certain things unspoken, and most of all those closest to her heart. He should have told the Lion how she had unwrapped Oathkeeper, the blade he had given her, only at night when she thought no one was looking and stared upon it, and ran her fingers over the jewels and the lions in the pommel, and wrapped it most carefully afterwards, handled it as though it were the most precious thing that she had, the most beloved. 

But he told the Lion no, because he did not know how to explain the other part, and she had never spoken of it. And the Lion had been unsurprised, and he had smiled a false smile, and sent him out to play in the snow, and Podrick had not thought of it again until now, when Ser Brienne shows him the same smile. 

They must have the same wound, somehow. A blow which had carved them in twain, and they did not know how to put themselves back together. 

Podrick knows little and less of how two people might rebuild that kind of trust. But the memory jars something else in him, a memory of the Lannister brother that he knew far better. Lord Tyrion, the Imp, who had been kind to Podrick, if a little dismissive. He had said a thousand wise things, and even read aloud to him, from time to time. And there had been a book there in his quarters, or even several books, about the great knights and the Age of Heroes. There is something there, faint in his memory, that he knows will be important.

Podrick stands up and speaks eagerly, without stammering. “At King’s Landing, I squired for Tyrion Lannister. Lord Tyrion was a smart man. He used to read a whole book every day! And he said, I remember, he said... that there were no knights in the Age of Heroes, they came later, with the Anders--”

“Andals--” she corrects him quietly.

“--right. The Andals had knights, but Westeros didn’t, not then. The heroes before they came were just heroes. But we call them knights anyway, even though they weren’t actually knighted like we do it now. They weren’t really knights!”

“That’s hardly the point--”

“The point is, it doesn’t matter what they really were. They’re knights now, whether people then called them that or not. Because of what they did. Because they were great.”

Her hands make fists. “They were great. They did great things. I haven’t done anything but lose.”

“They probably didn’t always win! We just don’t sing songs about those parts. Maybe they lost and lost and lost and they kept trying until they did something great, and that’s the part we remember now. Not the hard parts.”

Brienne looks down into the pool.

"If they never knighted you, it wouldn’t change the things you did. You would still have killed the bandits in the Saltpans. You would still have stopped that awful Rorge from hurting the children at the crossroads."

"But I don’t want to be merely a killer. I want to keep my promises. I want to be honorable." Her hair falls over her face, obscuring the terrible scars on her cheek. "I couldn't keep my oath to Lady Catelyn without breaking faith with Ser Jaime. I had to choose. If I cannot keep my oaths, if honor is denied me, what is left?"

But she seems to know the answer. She brushes her hair back behind her ears and sighs, and she sounds much older than before.

“There is something… something I feel I must do. But I don’t know if I’m brave enough. This task I cannot fail in, and I do not know if I can succeed.”

“You should try,” Pod pushes. 

“If I am a true knight,” she says hesitantly, and then more firmly, “then I must protect the realm, and defend the innocent. Less than a day’s ride from here, Pod, there is an invading army coming to kill King Tommen. He’s only a boy, even younger than you. And he is Ser Jaime’s son. I may have failed in the quest he gave me, but I might be able to help him defend the King. I must do whatever I can. Do you understand Pod? I have to.” 

 Pod brightens. This sounds more like the Brienne he knows. “I can help.”

“No,” she says sharply. “No. This part I must do alone. I can risk myself for this, but I will not risk you.”

“You would leave me behind?”

“I will come back.” She puts her hands on his shoulders. “If I yet live I will come back for you, Pod, and we’ll look for Lady Sansa. And for Lord Tyrion too, I know you wanted to rejoin him…”

“I want to stay with you,” Pod says miserably. 

Brienne looks surprised. Then her expression softens, briefly, and she squeezes his shoulders.

 “I will not be riding to battle, Podrick, not the way you’re thinking. I cannot be of help on the battlefield without knowing his plans, but I can try to get into the city ahead of the invasion, and protect the King and the Queen Regent. I will have to disguise myself, and there would be no way to bring you along. But do not worry, I would not go off and forget you. Not for Ser Jaime, not for anyone. I gave Ser Jaime to the Brotherhood to make sure you would be safe."

Pod’s face falls. Could it be his fault that Ser Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime are so unhappy? 

"I’m s-s-sorry,” he stammers.

"Don’t be sorry!” she says quickly, wiping at his face with her thumb. “I’m not sorry. Because of that you are here and alive and well. I could never be sorry for that. But now Ser Jaime is the one who needs my help. He thinks he will not win this battle, but he will go anyway, to try to save his son. I fear he will perish in the attempt. I cannot allow that to happen.”

Brienne’s face takes on a strange light then, one that Podrick will long remember.

“The knights in the songs would risk their lives to save a fair maiden from danger. Ser Jaime is not a maiden, but... If there is any chance I might save him from a ghastly fate I must try. I know it must seem foolish. I can’t explain it, but… it’s like a song, Podrick, a song I hear in my heart. Like when Ser Galladon went out to face the dragon, or when Florian met Jonquil. They knew which way their destiny lay, and they rode to meet it. I must do the same, or else be a coward forever. I only hope I can live up to their example.”

Podrick does not want to let her go again so soon. But if she doesn’t go, he knows, she will let herself down, and it will make her even sadder. Perhaps if she can help Ser Jaime, it will heal this wound of hers. Perhaps they could heal each other.  

“You can do it, milady ser. You can do anything.” He puts all the enthusiasm he can muster into his encouragement. “You’re the best sword-fighter in the world. You can take a few Targaryens.”

Brienne smiles genuinely, a gap-toothed, shy smile that he has never seen before.

“That’s going a bit far, Pod, but I shall do my best. You’re right, even if I cannot be a true knight, I can still protect the innocent and do what’s right. And if I cannot fight for honor, I can still fight for love.” 

Podrick beams. “What can I do to help?”

“You can go and stay with the other boys at the Lannister camp. Jaime won’t take them to war. I think he will leave an ancillary camp behind with the boys, and anyone else he would like to save. The boys, and his squire, and perhaps your cousin too. When you find them there, they will look after you until I return. Find them, and wait for me. Will you do that for me, Pod? So I wont worry?”

He nods. Because he has to, because she needs him to. He’s only just found her again, but he has to let her go. He can see it now - she is a true knight, and she is on a quest to a place he can’t follow. As her squire, he will have to do as she commands. 

He will go, and he will take great gulps of air to choke back the tears until she can’t see him anymore. 

She gives him much of the coin that Ser Jaime had left her, and all of the supplies too. She takes only the hound’s helmet, and Oathkeeper, and leaves him her horse. 

Brienne kneels before him before he takes his leave. “Keep practicing while I’m gone. Every day, the sword forms and the footwork. Will you?”

Pod nods wordlessly, to keep himself from stammering or sobbing. 

“I will return, I promise I will. I came back to the Brotherhood for you and I will come back to you this time. You’re my squire and as long as I live I will come back for you.”

Pod stares into her eyes resolutely. “No matter what. Promise.”

She stares back. “I promise.”

Pod throws his arms around her neck. At first she is still, but then her big arms wrap around him and pull him flush against her,  and she holds him so tightly he can scarcely breathe. She whispers, “thank you,” into his hair, again and again. He does not know what she is thanking him for.

[plumoh]

[KH] mettle

Rating: G

Word count: 1802

Summary: Riku and Roxas have a talk. / post-KH3.

Note: AO3 link. Riku & Roxas fighting together and introspection, one of my favorite things to write.

Roxas cleaves through heartless after heartless with a single sweep of his keyblade (singular), dodges oncoming attacks without ever tripping and dances around Riku like he knows exactly where he’d be.

It’s terrifying.

Riku’s longest mission partner has been Mickey, for dangerous tasks requiring prudence and stealth. It was easy to work with him, as they had similar mindsets and they knew each other’s strengths well enough to craft plans best fitting their abilities—discounting the fact they fought alongside each other only a handful of times.

These hunting missions with Roxas are pleasant to do in their efficiency, surprising in their relative calm, and downright confusing in their good teamwork. Riku is left floundering each time Roxas blocks an attack for him, and each time Riku manages to weave himself into Roxas’s combos to cover the openings. Some of their friends would be delighted to see how in sync they are, but Riku struggles with the very idea that it’s a sign of their friendship.

Working well together doesn’t require liking each other.

Oathkeeper gleams brightly under Agrabah’s sun, powerful and graceful. Roxas hardly looks out of breath or affected by the effort of swinging his keyblade for the past half-hour, while Riku is starting to feel a little breathless. The heat isn’t helping at all; his clothes are sticking to his body and sweat keeps getting onto his eyelashes.

“Keep up,” Roxas mutters.

Riku snorts. Roxas is trying to act tough, and even though he’s comparatively faring better, his movements are still slowed down by the heat. Which makes his performance even scarier.

“Don’t worry, I’m not slacking off,” Riku replies as he plunges Braveheart into a heartless.

The sound of another heartless disintegrating reaches Riku’s ears as Roxas says, “Even when you’re not slacking off you’re half-assing it.”

It’s intentional, and Riku knows it. Roxas is attempting to rile him up and push him into a competition. It’s not the first time he’s tried that, and surely not the last; long and boring hunts of weaker heartless tend to make Roxas restless. For having monitored his days in the Organization, Riku suspects this is because Roxas is used to much harder solo missions.

But this isn’t the Organization, and there is nothing to prove anymore. Riku brings Braveheart close to him and parries a blow, before counterattacking with a darkness-infused slash. The horde of enemies scrambles and makes a move forward, but Roxas summons a pillar of light in a matter of seconds, and obliterates what remains of the heartless.

And just like this, the battle is no more. Riku carefully relaxes as the dust settles, scanning the area and making sure that none of the heartless escaped. Once he’s deemed it safe, he dismisses his keyblade, and turns towards Roxas.

“That was a bit too flashy in my opinion,” Riku says lightly, a smile on his face.

Roxas purses his lips, still gripping Oathkeeper tightly in his hand. “It’s faster that way. It’d be a waste of time to hold back.”

“You never seem to run out of stamina or strength.”

“I’ve had more difficult missions in the past.” Roxas shrugs. “Honestly, we could do twice the work if you decided to use your actual power.”

Riku is often uncertain of what he should do or say around Roxas, fumbling with his words and trying to analyze the expressions he sees on his face. For someone that used to be a Nobody, Roxas’s feelings are as transparent as clear water—there is never room for doubt, the features of his face twisted into the emotions that his heart is beating with strongly. Roxas has always looked and acted too human to be considered a Nobody; this, Riku is certain of.

This time is not different from the others, Roxas’s stare as sharp as a blade while Riku turns his answer over and over in his head before responding.

“I don’t see the necessity of going all-out to take care of heartless,” Riku says honestly. “And I think you should save your energy. We never know what we’re going to run into.”

Using such large scale attacks for everyday missions sounds almost unbelievable. Surely Roxas doesn’t do it every time he is sent out?

“I just don’t understand,” Roxas grunts. “Whenever I see you fight, it’s like you’re holding back. Like you’re scared of using your powers when you’ve shown before you have complete control over them.”

Riku’s mouth falls open, and he stares at Roxas.

“Are you upset because I’m holding back?” he asks incredulously.

“That’s not it!” Roxas snaps back, finally dismissing Oathkeeper. “That’s not really what I mean! Like I said, it’s like you’re scared.”

Perhaps Roxas simply has a skewed vision of Riku’s fighting style and motives. Riku hardly made a good impression the first time they properly met, and any encounters occurring between them ended badly. It’s still strange that the topic is coming up.

“I assure you, I’m not scared of my powers,” Riku chuckles. He forms a fist with his right hand, gazing down at it. “Not anymore, at least. What you… witnessed isn’t something I’m proud of. But I let go of my fear.”

Roxas’s brow is pinched, his mouth curled into an ugly grimace. There is something he wants to say. Riku shrugs.

“Maybe sometimes I unconsciously hold back because I’ve tried for so long to hide them. But that doesn’t tell me why you’re so upset.”

For all he knows, Roxas could be wielding darkness as well—he used to be a Nobody, and using Dark Corridors had no effects on him.

Roxas takes a while before replying, the cogs in his head clearly working and slotting into place.

“I guess it’s just weird,” he says. “I thought you were the kind of guy who liked to show off to avoid being looked down on. You… were always challenging Sora. And you clearly had no qualms using your abilities during our fight.”

Roxas glares at him and Riku winces.

“Yeah, I’m really not proud of that,” Riku groans again. “I’ll apologize as many times as it takes, Roxas. I’m truly sorry things ended that way.”

It feels like a lifetime ago—rain, a dark sky, blinding lights and two keyblades clashing. This battle is buried deep into their hearts and engraved into their minds, the last tangible remains of their desire to go to impossible lengths for their loved ones. They probably are still going to accomplish stupid things thinly veiled as astounding acts of bravery, but Riku likes to think he knows the stakes better now.

Roxas sighs and lifts his eyes to gaze at the sky, which is starting to take on orange hues like a sunset’s.

“This is probably why it makes me so irritated,” Roxas admits. “You were a powerful opponent. I beat you, then you got this boost and you knocked me unconscious like that was a normal thing to do. You didn’t hesitate much when the switch happened, and I’ve been angry at this version of you for a long time. I can’t reconcile the you of before with the you that’s standing in front of me.”

Riku averts his gaze and watches the skyline too. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I wanted to see if you were ready to display the same kind of strength now, even without the life or death situation we were in,” Roxas continues. “That was dumb. I think I should have straight up asked you what I wanted from the beginning.”

Roxas shifts and stands closer to Riku, exuding none of the nervosity or impatience he’s been carrying whenever they were in each other’s vicinity. Riku turns towards him slowly, scrutinizing the renewed resolve etched onto Roxas’s face. Roxas holds his head high, chin jutting out and eyes blazing.

“You owe me a rematch,” he declares. “No holding back. But no cheating this time.”

And all of a sudden, as if a weight was wrenched out of his body to leave him hanging in the air, Riku bursts out laughing. It’s the kind of laugh that shakes his entire body, forcing him to bend over and to laugh so loudly that it sounds unreal and fake even to his own ears. But he’s laughing, amused and relieved all at once, while Roxas is sputtering and probably swearing up a storm at him.

“What’s so funny?” Roxas snaps.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh like that,” Riku manages to say between wheezes. He raises a hand when Roxas grits his teeth and takes another step forward. “I’m serious! Sorry, sorry.”

Riku wipes tears away, though he can’t quite stop grinning. Roxas crosses his arms over his chest.

“Are you done?”

“Yes,” Riku replies, trying not to comment on Roxas’s scrunched up face. “You caught me off guard. I didn’t think that the solution to our problem would be so simple.”

“I didn’t know that we could consider this a problem.”

“Roxas, you haven’t stopped glaring and shouting at me since we defeated Xehanort. I thought you hated me.”

This, out of everything they’ve said so far, makes Roxas pause. He doesn’t avoid eye contact and Riku can see all the sincerity and honest questioning swirling in his eyes.

“I did hate you,” Roxas says eventually. “But I had all the time in the world to think about it and… I was angry. I’m still angry, but I… understand what you did. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

Roxas runs a hand across his face and sighs.

“And I’m tired of being angry.”

Riku swallows. Sincerity hour, huh.

“I regret that we had to meet that way and that we had to fight,” he apologizes. “But if something similar happens again… I will probably make the same choice.”

Roxas snorts. “I figured.” Then, almost like an after-thought, he adds more quietly, “I’d do everything for them, too.”

Riku doesn’t need to ask who he’s referring to. The list of people they’d rend heaven for is growing, day by day, pulling at their heart strings and tugging them into whatever direction they want.

“Let me start over,” Riku announces. “I’m sorry I acted like a jerk towards you and made you go through so many horrible events. I accept a proper rematch.”

The corner of Roxas’s lips curls upwards, his face brightening up and leaving open an expression of amused satisfaction. Riku feels his own face break into a smirk as a pleasant warmth runs all over his body.

“Yeah, let’s settle this score once and for all,” Roxas replies enthusiastically. “Remember, no holding back. I won’t go easy on you.”

“I wouldn’t expect less of you,” Riku laughs.

It will be alright, Riku thinks. It takes time, but everything always ends up slotting into their rightful place.

[rocketonthemoon]

Fic Writer Review

tagged by the wonderful @i-am-robie (who is extraordinarily kind in implying i’m a current writer thank you friend!) 

1. How many works do you have on ao3? You know I thought it was going to be less but apparently 11!

2. What’s your total ao3 word count? 14,578. I do not write big things I barely write small things oops

3. How many fandoms have you written for? Technically 4 because the SM fandom has it split up weirdly on ao3 but in actuality it’s 3 - Sailor Moon, The Locked Tomb, and Supergirl! Most of my stuff is Sailor Moon stuff since it’s been the fandom I’ve been doing the longest and just trying to put it up so I have it all in one spot. 

4. Top 5 fics by kudos? 

A Dressing Down

It’s Becoming a Bit of a...

Mission Not So Impossible

Things You Said

Lose Control

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not? I try to! Honestly I’ve been pretty bad about it recently one, because I very, very rarely get comments that I tend to miss them in my inbox and two, if I do, they’re kinda just “this was nice!” so I tend to go “I will reply later and thank them for telling me they enjoyed it!” and later ends up being right now quite a bit...

6. A fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Definitely Call of Duty - older one and I’ve kinda stopped writing angst as a whole unless there’s a happy ending admittedly

7. Do you write crossovers? Nope. Not really where my brain lives

8. Ever received hate on a fic? I’ve gotten a few nasty comments on tumblr about my fics but nothing on ao3 so far thankfully.

9. Do you write smut? Yes. The better question is am I good at it and that remains to be seen in my opinion lol

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of! I can’t really imagine someone wanting to claim the niche that is “childhood cartoon characters are more trans than you thought!” that I’ve kinda carved out for myself but who knows.

11. Ever had a fic translated? oh man back when I was posting on ff.net someone offered for a couple of my things but I don’t think anything ever came out of that? And definitely not since migrating to ao3.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic? Nope! 

13. All time fav ship? Listen i’ve got Uranus and Neptune’s symbol tattooed on my arm for a reason, but gosh is SuperCorp making a really good run. Talk to me in another year or so.

14. WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? god so many. I’m so bad at finishing things. I’ve got two I’m really trying to kick myself into finishing - one’s tentatively titled “Four Times Kara Floats In Her Sleep” (fluff) and the other is probably the most over indulgent thing I’ve ever written that’s just trasmasc smut for my Sailor Moon ot3

15. Writing strengths? I think I’m pretty good at writing about naps! Haha no but I think I’m really good at making short things work really well. I spent so long in college working how to write poetry that I can’t help but make my prose poetic and like how you can’t eat too much of really rich chocolate cake it only works in small doses. 

16. Writing weaknesses? Word count. Even in technical writing I am completely unable in making something longer than about 2k and not sound like the worst thing you’ve read outside of a 7th grade writing course.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic? If the character who’s perspective the reader is following doesn’t know that language I’m cool with it being typed out but if they understand just put it in italics or something? I dunno I’ve never tried writing that! I do know that I hate the translated parentheses at the end of the sentence method. Just takes me right out. 

18. First fandom you wrote for? officially speaking it was I think a pikmin story I wrote back in like. 3rd grade. But on ao3 it’s Sailor Moon. 

19. What’s your fav fic you’ve written so far? Actually I think it’s a tie right now between It’s Becoming a Bit of a... and A Conversion of Faith because both took me a good while to write and I’m so happy with how they turned out. Plus I just really like writing vignettes like a not cool person.

I don’t really know who to tag for this so I’ll go with @thestarryskiesofpalaven @oathkeeper-of-tarth  @kg1507 if you haven’t done it yet! Also if you haven’t been tagged but you want to please consider this your tag invite! I just never know who’s done these and who hasn’t at this rate!

[poorlytunedukulele]

Day 21 - Oathkeeper

August 24, 2876; Inner System Space

Azra floated in the weightlessness of space.  Weightlessness was a lie.  You are at all times under the effect of something’s gravity- the difference is if you feel it or not.  Azra did not feel it because she was drifting, already caught and falling in the asteroid’s pull.

Asteroid-hopping was fun.  Normally jetpacks weren’t very useful, but it was easy to escape the weak gravity of the asteroid belt.  It reminded her of rock climbing in a way, moving from handhold to handhold, gravity well to gravity well.

Her chosen asteroid was big, but not big enough to naturally put out the force that grasped at her.  She hit the ground hard.  Soft dirt was kicked up in her wake, hanging in the air for just a second too long.  Someone had set this hunk of rock up with artificial gravity, though only about half of Earth’s, and had given it an atmosphere and cultivated the rock into farmable soil.

They hadn’t chosen to farm it, though.  Azra stood before a forest of young trees.  Their leaves lifted a bit too high, branches perfectly still in the unstirred air.  They were Earth species- cottonwoods and white-trunked aspen.

They were enough to hide someone.  Azra brushed the dirt from her knees, looked up, and was suddenly staring death in the eye.

Well, she was looking down the shaft of an arrow laid on a very impressive bow by a very impressive woman.  She had been waiting in cover- active camo, probably, the tree trunks were thin- and had stepped out when Azra had turned her attention away.

The woman’s skin had the Awoken blue tint and her eyes were like moonfire on ice.  She was tall.  Taller than Shaxx, even.  "You're trespassing on Awoken territory, Guardian," the woman called out in a rough alto. "Declare yourself."

Azra put her hands up and flicked through her HUD to turn on her external speakers.  “My name is Azra Jax,” she announced.  “I’m scouting for the Vanguard, I didn’t know I’d crossed into Awoken territory.”

A truth and two lies.  Kind of.  She was here for her own mapmaking efforts.  The Vanguard hadn’t sent her.  And she’d known she’d be intruding on Awoken territory at some point, but she didn’t know where the exact border was.

The Awoken woman didn’t lower her bow.  It was tall as the woman was, massive limbs pulled back with such force Azra fancied she could hear reality creak with tension.  No doubt that arrow would punch through her armor like wet paper.  Bulletproofing didn’t work so well against edged weapons.

“Alright,” she admitted, meeting the Awoken’s icy eyes.  “I’m not here for the Vanguard, I’m scouting for fun, though I’m sure they’d take any map data I gave them.  I genuinely don’t know where the border is.”

The woman’s voice was cool with a thinly-veiled threat.  “This asteroid is part of our claim.  The one behind you is not.”

Azra didn’t turn to look at the lifeless rock floating a few hundred meters away.  “Ah, so the border is here,” she said.

The Awoken woman had impressive arm strength.  The arrow-point never wavered, even though the draw weight of the bow must have been incredible.

“There’s no need for violence,” Azra said.  “I didn’t- and I still don’t- intend harm on you or your people.  I was just exploring.”

“Then leave,” the woman demanded.  “You are not welcome here.”

“Well, what about next time?” Azra said.

The woman lowered her bow, though Azra didn’t doubt she could have it at full draw in a heartbeat.  “If you enter our territory again, I will kill you.”

“I don’t know what’s your territory and what’s not!” Azra exclaimed.  “That’s why I’m here.  This entire region is so poorly mapped because nobody knows what’s fair game and what’ll get you in trouble!”

“You are here for maps?”  the woman said incredulously.

Azra crossed her arms.  “I’m not here to screw spiders.”

“I know your kind,” the woman said.  “You would cross the border willingly even if you knew where it was.”

A correct assumption, Azra had to admit.  “At least I’d be discreet about it.  But like, the whole reason you have borders is to keep threats out.  I’m no threat to the Awoken.  I don’t see how me standing on this asteroid as apposed to that one hurts anything.”

“You Guardians change everything you touch,” the Awoken woman said.

“And you don’t?” Azra challenged.  “Last time I checked, asteroids don’t have trees growing on them.”

The Awoken woman didn’t respond.  She frowned and fingered the fletching on her arrow.

Azra set aside her frustration and her fear.  “Listen.  Until you claim the whole asteroid belt, you can’t get upset at me for accidentally hopping onto the wrong rock.”

The woman shook her head.  “You knew you would enter our space eventually, but you didn’t hesitate.”

“Can’t find the line ‘till you cross it,” Azra said.  “Old Hunter saying.”

The woman paused, reaching for an inside pocket on her jacket.  If Azra were to make a move, it would be now, when her opponent only had one hand on the bow.

She let the moment pass.  The woman pulled a datachip clear and turned it between her fingers.  “How can I be sure you will keep your word?  Not just abandon a deal when it suits you?”

The woman was talking about deals now.  This was good.  Maybe Azra wouldn’t have to spend the next couple of days crossing lines and getting shot with arrows.  The Arcstrider spoke with conviction.  “Your word’s the only thing you have.  Things break, people die, places change, but your word- your honor, is the only thing that will always be with you.  I don’t break promises.”

The woman seemed to come to a decision.  “I will give you a map of the asteroid belt, up to the border of our space but no further.  In return, you will swear to never cross that border uninvited.”

Very tempting offer.  Azra eyed the datachip, a war raging in her head.  On one side, being banned from somewhere was a steep price to pay.  She did not do well with interdictions or exclusion zones.  On the other hand, map data…

Azra approached the warrior slowly.  She was taut as her own bowstring, eyes lit, expression challenging but wary.  Azra was careful to keep her movements even and her hands far from her weapons.

She stopped a few feet away.  “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Sjur Eido,” the woman replied smoothly.  “Queen’s Wrath.”

Azra stuck out her hand.  “Sjur Eido, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Sjur looked at her outstretched arm like it was sharp, but grasped the datachip in her bow hand so she could accept Azra’s handshake.

“On my word, never broken, and my knife, never dull,” Azra intoned.  “If you give me a clear, readable map of exactly where your borders lie, I won’t willingly cross them without permission.”

Sjur Eido nodded, let go of her hand, and held out the chip.  Spark appeared in realspace to take it.

Then, like a child on the Dawning who couldn’t wait to open their present, the Ghost turned sideways and projected the map in the air.  As promised, there was the thin, well-defined line of the border.  Everything past it was empty blankness.  Everything outside, though…

“Oooh,” Azra cooed.  “This is good.”  The individual asteroids and shipwrecks were as detailed as Azra would have made them.  They even had relative velocities and masses labeled, so the map could be extrapolated and altered as the asteroid belt continued its messy rotation.  “We’re friends now,” Azra declared.

“Friends?” Sjur said, sounding a little appalled.

“Yes.  You gave me a map.  A good map.  We’re friends.”

“I did not agree-“

Azra waved her off.  “You will take my transponder code and you will like it.  I’m not good with penpals, so don’t expect letters or anything.”

“…Friends.”  The Awoken woman still didn’t sound impressed.

“It’s too late, I like you.”  She poked at the projection.  “This has a map of Pallas, too?  ‘Like’ is too weak a word.”

“Don’t you have an oath to keep?” the Awoken woman said dryly.  Azra looked up and saw what might have been a hint of humor in her eyes.

The Arcstrider performed an informal salute.  “Right.  I should go.  Pleasure meeting you, Sjur Eido.  Genuine.”

She jumped high so her jetpack wouldn’t blow the dirt away and drifted, weightless, out of Awoken space.

AO3 Link

[angel-deux-writes]

I absolutely refuse to make another one of these for HCM, so here’s the as-yet-untitled Groundhog Day fic where Brienne wakes up the day of Joffrey’s wedding. It’s kind of a post-season-8 fix-it, kind of a seasons 4-8 fix it? I don’t know what it is. There’s a lot more going on than there really needs to be, but who cares, it’s my story! 

She exits her room. She turns down the hall to head for the Sept. Ahead of her, Jaime steps out of an intersecting hallway and stops to look at her. She remembers this, now. She had thought him impossibly handsome in the light coming in from outside, shining off his golden armor. She preferred him with the longer hair and the beard. She preferred him when he was hers, at Winterfell. Older and greyer and softer. But there is still a flutter in her chest, especially when he smiles at her and moves towards her. His golden hand is propped against his sword. Her sword. Oathkeeper. Her chest aches. He's alive.

"Lady Brienne," he says, in the same teasing way he used to, when they first became friendly and more comfortable. She swallows a sudden lump in her throat. He is not entirely unburdened, this Jaime. He still carries his pain behind his eyes. She had never known him when he was not weighed down by guilt of some kind. But she never realized how deadened his gaze got the longer she knew him. That last night, when she begged him to stay, he had hardly looked like himself at all. There were moments in Winterfell when he was mirthful, almost fully happy. Young again, usually when they were abed and he had no time or energy to think of anything but her. But he had been so little like the man who stands before her now.

"Ser Jaime," she manages. He is smiling at her. He looks down at the armor he wears. Had her gaze lingered too long on him? She's no longer used to feeling like she must look away from him.

"Yes, quite a change from the creature you dragged around the Riverlands," he admits. "Not nearly as many fleas."

"It's. That's. Good," she manages. His smile grows. She remembers the first time she was here, in Kings Landing. She had expected to hardly see him, but he had sought her out often, mostly to nettle her about everything. He and Tyrion both. They mocked her for her stubborn silence until she finally began to bite back, and then they were delighted with her. She had never felt well balanced between them. Even when they were in Winterfell, she always felt like she was lagging behind.

"He was happy," Tyrion had lamented one night, when he and Brienne had been working late into the evening, not long after Bran's coronation. "I thought he would choose himself for once. I thought…"

"He didn't," Brienne had replied, and the next day was the day Bran called her into his rooms and told her.

He was never going to leave forever.

He knew he would likely not make it back, but he had to try. He could never live with himself if he didn't. He knew he would never be the man you deserved if he let her die while he was happy.

She remembers waking up to sunlight and soft kisses, the way he looked at her. The feel of his fingers brushing over her cheek, and his maimed arm sliding around her waist. The ridges of his scars against her back.

The light was blue, Bran said. It turned the rocks around him blue as well. It was all he could see. He was dying. He knew he was dying. He hoped you knew, at least.

The way he kissed her the night before he left. The way he held her, after. She had known even then that something was wrong, but she had not wanted to believe it.

He hoped you understood that he loved you.

Jaime is smiling at her, looking her in the eyes, and Brienne doesn't know what to say. She swallows back a thousand words. She can't say any of them. He would never believe her. He would think her mad.

"The blue is a good color, my lady," he says. "It goes well with your eyes."

"Excuse me," she says, ignoring his startled expression as she pushes past him and continues down the hall. He doesn't try to stop her, and she's grateful.

Blue, Bran had said. Like your eyes. It was the last thing he saw.