#c: bran

[fcrewell-wxnderlust]

Taking a deep breath and shaking himself off, Bran plastered his usual calm smile on his face, pushing his surprisingly intact glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Are you alright?"

[ladystoneboobs]

the younger starklings about robb (robb the strong and brave big brother, the perfect heir, the fierce and unbeatable young wolf):

arya

bran

sansa

meanwhile, actual robb (robb the lord and then robb the kitn):

before arya ever promised to be strong by using robb as her benchmark, the definition of stark strength, ned had to remind robb to be strong as the ruling stark in winterfell. (strong for bran and rickon, the brothers he thought he failed by sending their would-be killer away, leading to his great moment of weakness in jeyne westerling's bed.) as his siblings' faith in his ultimate triumph held strong, even after the loss of the north, robb himself was struggling with despair.

as grenn once told sam, maybe everyone is just pretending to be brave, maybe that's how people become brave. robb was faking it to make it too, imitating his father's lordly attitude as bran later tried to imitate robb's. as his younger siblings remembered him as their shining example, robb was trying to live up to his father's example. not the ned who'd been in his circumstances, a teenager unexpectedly turned into a lord and fighting a war to save his family. no, ofc, he never knew that young ned. the ned he knew as his father, the standard to measure himself against, was an adult man in his mid-30s who'd ruled the north for ~15 years. but was that standard for a 15/16yo any more fair and valid an expectation than 8/9yo bran believing he was almost a man grown and holding himself to the standard of 15/16yo robb as robb's heir?

and the only person left close enough to see robb as the boy he still was died with him.

[kiivg]

.“...During the Kirkwall-Starkhaven peace talks; it is said that Champion Hawke was a great aide in calming down what could have been a Civil War within the Free Marches. They were, after all, as close as brothers during the Champion’s years in the city...” - Brother Luther, Official Scribe of the Kirkwall Chantry.

[littlelord]

once again the got/hotd fandom approaching a character from a neurotypical pov and coming to the conclusion that the character is robotic and emotionless instead of considering that people’s brains literally work in different ways especially when experiencing trauma

[thewingedwolf]

why Bran is my favorite reason 29383:

When the Reeds show up, he asks Luwin if they really eat frogs and insects. When Luwin says yes, Bran (who, as a reminder, is not even in the double digits yet) supposes it must be because they don’t have sheep and cattle. Then, Bran decides they need a special treat and sends them several meat based dishes that are sheep or beef, so they can give it a try. Jojen and Meera are clearly tickled by this too.

He’s such a sweet boy, who remembers his courtesies, but I love how often he will use food as a way to reach out to people he’s not sitting next to. To not give into the childish impulse to be grossed out by eating habits he doesn’t understand, and instead make the educated connection they eat what’s native to their area. And he sends Hodor and Old Nan food to show them he loves them - and he sends shitty vegetables to the Freys because he hates them lmao.

[myreygn]

Hello! I'd like to request a tickle story with Bran Stark, Rickon Stark and Tommen Baratheon please~

cubs and pups

summary: Tommen doesn't like Winterfell when he first lays eyes on it but quickly finds himself warming up to the place and its people - especially Lord Stark's youngest sons and so he happily agrees when they invite him to play with them. What could possibly go wrong?

an: goddamn that took me way too long... i'm really sorry @proscrix, i hope you like what i came up with! (also please appreciate the title i'm really proud of it 😭)

wordcount: 3266 holy fu-

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♫·¯·♪¸¸♩·¯·♬¸¸

There was something very dismal about Winterfell. Tommen couldn't quite put a finger on it but nevertheless, the feeling was there. In the gray of the walls, looming over him in a way that made him feel entrapped, even though he was out in the open; the dull clothes the people, even the Starks wore, designed to keep them warm rather than impress anyone; even in the way the Starks themselves looked at him, a way that made it abundantly clear that they viewed him as a child first and a prince second. Not that he could actually blame them for it, somehow he hadn't realized either that he was supposed to be above them all, but how could he when everyone always looked down on him? 

Well, not everyone. 

Tommen caught the gaze of the youngest Stark child (Rickon, he believed) who was looking up at him in complete awe. He seemed to be younger by a few years and the prince found himself wondering if maybe they could play together later. Did the northerners play the same games they played in King’s Landing? Would Rickon even want to play with him? He carefully smiled at the boy and felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders when Rickon returned the smile. So far so good.

For now though, there were other things to do. A formal greeting between his father and Lord Stark, then a more informal approach where his father went through all of Lord Stark’s children one after the other and told them how strong and beautiful they were and how they would make great knights and lords and ladies someday. Tommen felt a sting in his chest. If only his father ever told him he was going to be a great knight someday with the same twinkle in his eyes he had when he said it to Brandon. Was that jealousy? 

Tommen examined Brandon with narrow eyes. They were probably around the same age, with the other boy being noticeably taller and leaner, his dark hair gave him a much more adventurous appearance than Tommen with his golden locks could ever hope for. He was beaming with pride after receiving the King’s praise and despite the maybe-jealousy still stinging in his chest, the young prince could not for the life of him find it in him to dislike the other boy. He watched as Rickon looked up at Brandon and they exchanged a smile. Brandon was probably also a way better older brother than Joffrey.

Where was Joffrey anyway? Over there, making googly eyes at Lord Stark’s daughter. Fair enough, Tommen thought to himself, she was a true beauty. Maybe, he then thought, one day he could marry a girl just as beautiful, then he saw his mother whisper something into Joffrey’s ear and instinctively knew that whoever he was going to marry someday, it wasn’t going to be a Sansa Stark. No wonder Joffrey never found the time to be a good brother in between learning how to strut around like a rooster and trying to get under the skirts of beautiful girls. Tommen had no idea what it meant to get under someone’s skirt but his uncle Tyrion had said this one day and his other uncle Jaime had given the dwarf a slap in the back of his head and told him “Not in front of the children”, so Tommen had vowed to himself to never forget this sentence until he could understand what it meant. (Also the rooster part was funny, even though he wouldn’t dare to say that out loud to anyone aside from uncle Tyrion.)

A slight push to his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked directly into Myrcella’s slightly concerned eyes. The adults were done with greeting each other and giving compliments to children that weren’t Tommen and the whole group got ready to go inside the castle. He quickly caught up to Myrcella and tried to look for Rickon Stark, but the boy had vanished from his field of vision.

—

Winterfell was much nicer on the inside. Big chimneys and torches on the walls warmed up the great hall and gave it a welcoming feeling. It felt like a place that was a home to someone, not like Casterly Rock which felt more like a place people were forced to visit without any intention of staying longer than absolutely necessary - at least that was how Tommen felt whenever he had to go and see his grandfather Tywin.

Here it was very different though. Even from his place at the table that stood above all the other tables, he felt like a part of the crowd of laughing, drinking and singing northerners. Even stuck between his sister, who was half asleep, and his mother, who was more busy hawk eyeing Sansa Stark than anything, he was having a good time. Well, as good of a time as he could have anyway when everyone around him was getting more and more drunk as the evening dragged on.

He knew that he would be sent to his chambers immediately if he seemed even remotely tired and he didn’t want to leave just yet but at some point he just couldn’t hold the yawns in anymore. Almost immediately, his mother’s gaze was on him - for the first time that night and while that was nice for a change, he dreaded the following words before they even left her mouth: “You should go to bed, it’s quite late.”

Tommen looked around for help, feeling a tad bit hopeful when his gaze met with the understanding eyes of his uncle Jaime. “Oh come on Cersei, it’s a special night. Let the child enjoy it a little longer.”

“It’s way past sundown, Jaime,” his mother responded and something about her tone sent a chill down Tommen’s spine, but his uncle seemed entirely unbothered.

“We’re in the north, it’s always way past sundown.”

“Jaime.”

Silence, then his mother leaned forward to give him a kiss on the forehead. “Sleep well, Tommen.” So his uncle had lost, bummer.

When he left the hall he felt Joffrey’s gloating stare in his back. The door closed behind him, then it was only his and Jaime’s steps walking away from the festivities. And the warmth. It was a lot colder out here.

“Sorry about that, lad. I tried to get you some more time.”

“It’s fine, thank you.” He gave his uncle a small smile and was about to reassure him that he had been getting bored anyway when a giggle somewhere down the corridor distracted him from the conversation. Before Jaime could stop him (maybe he wasn’t even trying) he hurried down the corridor to see where the sound came from. He hadn’t seen Rickon and Brandon all night, maybe they were-

“Hello.”

Startled, Tommen’s feet came to a halt abruptly and he nearly lost his balance. Big, blue eyes looked up at him, widening a little in shock.

“I’m sorry, are you alright?”

“Rickon, what are you- oh.” Brandon Stark bowed his head, gesturing at his little brother to do the same. “Your Highness.”

“You don’t have to do that…” Tommen shuffled his feet nervously - he had never been a huge fan of people bowing their heads or getting on their knees before him, it just didn’t feel right. “What… what are you doing?”

“Oh, we were just playing.” Brandon still seemed a little cautious, as if Tommen were to order his execution if he took one simple misstep. It made his chest tighten; what would it take for Brandon to not be nervous around him anymore? How could he show that he had no intention to boss anyone around or-

“Do you want to join us?”

Rickon really had a talent for interrupting his spiraling thoughts and when Tommen looked at him, he was met with a genuinely hopeful expression - a pleasant counterpart to Brandon’s leeriness.

He was about to tell him that he would love to play with them, then he remembered he wasn’t alone and turned around to his uncle. “May I…?”

The corner of Jaime’s mouth twitched so slightly that Tommen was sure he wouldn’t even have noticed if he hadn’t known the man all his life. “Your mother won’t hear it from me. But I’ll be back in an hour and then you will go to bed immediately.”

“Yes, promise!” Barely able to hide his excitement, he turned back to the Stark boys and quickly followed Rickon into the room when the younger boy grabbed his wrist and pulled him with him. Brandon shut the door, then it was only the three of them.

Tommen examined the room. A bed, covered in furs and blankets, a big chimney with a fire spreading warmth and a thick carpet with wooden figurines lying around. He sat down on the floor between the two brothers. “Brandon and Rickon, right?”

“Yes. You can say Bran though.” 

It had been a pure courtesy, but Tommen was glad he had asked - it made him happy to be allowed to address Bran by a nickname. Friends did that, right? Did that mean they were friends? A smile spread his lips. “Then you can just say Tommen. What were you playing?”

“Well, we were trying to play tournament, but Rickon won’t share the knight figurines!”

“Because these are mine!”

“But how are we gonna play tournament when I have no knights?!”

“Then that means you lose!”

“That’s not how it works!”

Tommen leaned back when Bran suddenly lunged forward and wrestled Rickon into the carpet, then the younger boy squeaked and started to thrash around. “Braaan!”

Tommen narrowed his eyes. Was Bran- “W-wait, what are you doing?! Leave him alone!”

Rickon stopped laughing when Bran took his fingers off his sides and both of them were looking at him with nearly identical grins. “Why? Would you rather get a taste of this yourself?”

Before the prince could react, Rickon cried out “Charge!” and suddenly they were all over him; Bran held one of his arms in a vice grip and dug his fingers into his armpit, meanwhile Rickon relentlessly squeezed his midsection. A reluctant laugh escaped Tommen’s mouth. This was not good… he had to get out of here or else he’d be stuck here all night… maybe uncle Jaime would even walk in on him crying, just like the Septa did back when it happened in King’s Landing, that would be so embarrassing…

He remembered Joffrey quite literally ambushing him in his chambers in the early morning, jumping up on his bed and pinning him down while tickling him everywhere he could reach. The prodding to his hips, the scribbles all over his ribs and tummy, the squeezes to his sides… yes, he remembered it all too well. He remembered that it had been painful rather than ticklish, remembered how he had screamed louder and louder for Joffrey to let go of him and how his brother had seemed to care less and less by the second, how he had begun to cry only for Joffrey to tell him ‘Don’t be a baby, we’re just having fun’.

Fun. Maybe, he had wondered for a while, Joffrey was right. When the Septa had come into the room and Joffrey had explained that they were just having a little tickle fight, she too had said ‘Why are you crying, Prince Tommen? Tickling is supposed to be fun’. Maybe, he had thought, he was the problem, maybe he just didn’t know how to have fun with tickling and that was the reason so it didn’t work, but then again, Joffrey having fun and Tommen getting hurt (or anyone getting hurt, really) weren’t mutually exclusive situations.

Tommen felt his chest tighten and his own laughter began to sound like that of a stranger. He knew this was supposed to be fun, but he didn’t want this. All he had wanted was to have fun with some potential new friends and now he was gonna be stuck here for hours, getting tortured. Maybe Bran was just as horrible of an older brother as Joffrey then. Tears started to clock up his throat. And then, to his great surprise, the tickling… stopped.

“Tommen? Are you alright?”

Rickon gave him a worried look and Tommen hastily sat up, not wanting to seem weak in front of the Stark boys. “I’m fine…”

“Did we overstep?” Bran looked somewhat mortified at the thought of having upset the prince. “We’re sorry, we didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… we thought it’d be fun.”

Tommen pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself. He knew that this would make him look like a little baby, but honestly, it made him feel better right now and for a moment that was the only thing that mattered. “I just don’t understand… how can it be fun if people get hurt?”

The brothers glanced at each other, confused. “Hurt?” Rickon tilted his head to the side as if the situation would become somehow clearer. “What do you mean, hurt? I mean, I guess it could happen… one time Jon kicked Robb in the chest, but I think that was an accident.”

“What Rickon is trying to say,” Bran chipped in from the side when Tommen opened his mouth to ask what tickling and kicking people in the chest had to do with each other, “is that sometimes you can get hurt when you’re tickling someone and play fighting, but tickling isn’t supposed to hurt.”

“It- it isn’t?”

“No, it isn’t! See, it’s fun.” Bran quickly wiggled his fingers into Rickon’s side and the younger boy let out a bright giggle. “Why would it be supposed to hurt?”

“Well, when Joffrey did it-”

“Joffrey?! Prince Joffrey?! What did he do?!”

Tommen knew very well that the majority of the worry in Bran’s expression probably came from the fact that Joffrey was most likely going to marry his sister, but something about it still made him feel safe. As if the Stark brothers would be on his side, unlike Joffrey, unlike the Septa, and so he told them everything. Rickon was the first to speak up.

“But that is so mean! Why would he do that?!”

“Maybe he is just a mean person.” Bran softly caressed his brother’s hair, seemingly in shock. “But that’s really… I mean, the rules to tickling are unspoken, I suppose, but even so one of the rules is to stop immediately if the other person doesn’t want to be tickled…”

Tommen only wrapped his arms around himself and grasped onto his shirt, just to hold onto something. “Joffrey doesn’t know the rules then.”

“But we know the rules!” Rickon seemed determined to raise the spirit. “Maybe you could let us tickle you, we can show you that it’s fun!”

Bran looked at his brother as if he was about to scold him, then his gaze turned towards the prince instead, rather curiously. “Would you… let us do that?”

Tommen considered his options. He could just say No and they wouldn’t do it. They would respect that he didn’t want it to happen. They could just play something else and he’d be able to avoid this experience - or he could say Yes. If they’d accept his No now, they would also accept it later. Tommen had spent countless nights at the table next to his father, listening to him swoon over how honorable and honest of a man Lord Eddard Stark was and if that same Lord Eddard Stark’s sons claimed there were rules to tickling, he was sure they’d follow those rules at all times.

He nodded carefully. “You can do it… but carefully…”

“Of course!” To say that Rickon was beaming would’ve been an understatement, but Tommen couldn’t think of a better word before the younger boy latched onto his sides, squeezing away.

A giggle slipped out of his mouth and he quickly pressed his arms to his sides. He didn’t want it to stop just yet, wanted to see where it would go, but he couldn’t help it, it just really tickled. It didn’t hurt though. Tommen felt the slightest bit of tension fade away.

“Don’t block us out now!” Bran’s eyes glittered as he wiggled his fingers past Tommen’s arms, scratching at his ribs and making the prince squeak. “How are we supposed to tickle you if you cover up all the good spots?” There was a teasing undertone to his voice that would’ve sounded cruel and mean coming from Joffrey but out of Bran’s mouth it sounded… nice. Like they were having fun.

Tommen let out another giggle. He was having fun. “Buhut it tihickles-”

“Yes, that’s the point!” Rickon laughed and moved from his sides to his tummy. Tommen doubled over with a shriek and the younger boy’s eyes lit up. “Bran, I found a gold spot!”

“Good work, Ser Rickon! The defenses are crumbling!”

“AIHEE- Brahahahan!” Tommen squealed, curling in on himself. It was no use trying to protect his torso; Rickon relentlessly prodded and poked at his tummy and Bran’s fingers had wormed their way up into his armpits. It would probably be smart to try and push him off but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his arms - it just tickled too much. All he could do was lie on the carpet and laugh and it was fun.

“Are you alright?” Rickon grinned widely when the prince nodded. “Good!” He wiggled a finger into his belly button. “Then I can try this!”

“Gahahads, Rickohohon! Nahahat theheheere!” Tommen felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes. As much fun as this was- “Ihi cahan’t, I cahahan’t, stahahap! Plehehease!”

Immediately all four hands let go of him and Tommen felt warmth spread in his chest. They stopped. He told them to stop and they did it. So this was why it was supposed to be fun.

Rickon scooted a little closer and tried to catch a glimpse of Tommen’s face. “Are you still alriHIG- hehehehey! Brahahan, nohoho!”

Tommen blinked at the younger boy who was giggling and squirming on the ground, then he looked up at Bran who had his hands buried under Rickon’s arms and grinned back at him. “Do you want to help?”

“Nohoho, dohon’t hehehelp him!”

Tommen hesitated for a moment, then carefully extended his hand to give Rickon’s knee a little scratch when Bran sent an encouraging nod his way. Rickon let out a shriek and tried to pull his leg in but Tommen quickly grabbed his ankle to hold it still. He was getting used to this.

“You know you deserve this, Rickon!” Bran did his best to sound threatening but he couldn’t hide his joking undertone. “That’s what you get when you don’t share your toys!”

“Buhut thehese ahahare mihINEEK! ALRIHIHIGHT I GIHIVE! I GIHIHIVE!”

Tommen watched in fascination as Bran took his fingers off Rickon’s neck and briefly wondered how many times they must have done this for Bran to have such good knowledge on how to get Rickon to give up immediately. He caught himself smiling at the sight of Rickon lunging at Bran with a battle cry and starting to squeeze his sides, drawing an uncharacteristic cackle out of his older brother.

“Come on Tommen, help me! He needs a taste of his own medicine!”

Tommen took Bran’s wrists to pull them up, grinning down at him when he was met with a squeal of betrayal. How he could’ve ever thought about Winterfell as a dismal place was beyond him.

[falllpoutboy]

never forget when i had an anon try to cancel for me being a jaime/ jb stan specifically because the character took part in incest 😭

[peterparkersnose]

I stand by my choices

[wallacejwriting]

More Characters from City of Fractured Dreams & the Farside Universe

There's something deeply satisfying about having an entire character post where all the characters are trans. Like. Something really really satisfying. I love it.

These six are some of the younger and more prominent supporting characters. Lara and Bran are Cináed's best friends and Xion, Haru, Rafiq, and Ariel are all in Nomiki's story.

Let me know what you think!

Accessible text version below the cut.

Lara Acardi (She/Her) | Trans, Queer

18 yr old Topsider

Prosthetic legs – her right leg is prosthetic just passed where it attaches to the hip, and her left is prosthetic from just above the knee down. She paints them in cute flower patterns and designs her own legs

A Caster, and second in her class to Cináed

Good friends with Cináed and Bran

Giggly, cheerful, and often looks on the bright side of things. Extremely protective

A chubby lady! She’s got big round cheeks and loves spinny skirts and poufy blouses

Her father is the top scientist of Topside and she is his best assistant and apprentice

Bran Faolán (He/Him) | Trans, Queer

17 yr old Topsider

Youngest child of family, has an older sister in the Dragonguard, Aisling, who dies early on

A caster, a powerful one, who specializes in using water and wind to create ice, then forming combinations from that

Snarky, argumentative, analytical, bossy, looks innocent though, scheming

Loves his sister more than anyone else

Scars are from burns and moreso cover only the left side of his face (our right), including part of his left ear

Friends and roommates with Cináed

Hard of hearing in left ear, partially blind in left eye, wears glasses only sometimes due to damaged ear making it difficult

Xion (She/Her) | Trans, Queer

20 yr old Undersider

Clumsy, eager, well meaning inventor whose inventions often go wrong

Childhood friends with Haru

Desperate to make her mark on the world and prove that she can be useful

Has spent several years trying to figure out how to make her own ArTech but can’t crack the stones

Obsessed with flying, flight, and it as an image of freedom

Openly affectionate, loud, bubbly, covers her insecurity with open love of those around her

Haru (They/She) | Trans, Queer

21 yr old Undersider

Childhood friends with Xion

A medic who has spent a lot of time seeking out people to learn from and is always trying to learn more in healing

A peacekeeper and calming force. Grounds people

An escaped member of the Cult of Farside who has been hiding out on Tairkyda for over a decade

Quiet, observant, loyal and driven, a follower by nature and fine with it

Rafiq (He/They) | Trans, Queer

13 yr old Fringer

A Fringe farmer who lives with his family, including Ariel

Dorky, well meaning, and always with wide eyes. Isn’t big on touch, but he puts it aside for people he loves

A little too self-sacrificing and heroic for someone his age

Fears people he loves getting hurt

Has an awkward sense of humour that pokes fun at himself more than anyone else

Good with animals, like, really good

Ariel (He/Him) | Trans, Queer

22 yr old Fringer

A farmer in the Fringe who grows potatoes and tends to chickens

Has a big family that he loves dearly, his sister, her wife, and his brothers

A bunny beastie with massive ears and a big cottonball tail

Awkward, shy, and dorky. Very earnest

Nomiki crashes in his backyard and he sees Accolade save her

Wants to be a hero, an adventurer, more than anything

[anghraine]

I've been poking at the GW2 fic and it's at seven pages now. I'm not sure how interesting those seven pages are, but it's fun, anyway.

Here's a bit:

“Damn it,” said Helen. “I’ll tell Jack. We’ll need a new place, and you’d better make more use of those illusions.” She paused. “I’m sorry about Debs. I know it was complicated.” Gwen just nodded. It had been complicated. They might not have spoken for a year, but Deborah was still her sister. She remembered how fiercely Deborah had protected her after their grandfather died and his landlord took everything, then threw them out. Gwen had been nine, Deborah only two years older.  Even before then, Deborah looked after her. A year prior to their grandfather’s death, their parents had returned to Ebonhawke to fight for Ascalon, saying they’d bring Deborah and Gwen home once Ascalon was free. But it never happened, and eventually their grandfather admitted that Bran and Mara were dead.

[fcrewell-wxnderlust]

LEE PACE // have you seen Dr BRAN ALDRIC MATTHEWS around the crash site? we’re trying to make sure they’re still alive after the crash! according to the manifesto THEY/HE is a 44 year old UNLABELLED MAN. i hear they’re known being a BIOCHEMIST. BRAN is also known to be PASSIONATE yet also STUBBORN at times. we have a couple questions for BRAN when we find THEM, we heard something about a secret they might have? such as HE WENT BACK TO UNI AND GRADUATED WITH A BA IN FINE ARTS!

STATS:

Full Name: Bran Aldric Matthews Nicknames: Doc, Al, Muffin (by one person who made the 'bran muffin' joke, and then by everyone) Birthdate: March, 6 Age: 44

Gender: doesn't care Pronouns: he/him Romantic Orientation: unlabelled (likes who he likes) Sexual Orientation: unlabelled (interested in people, regardless of gender) Overall Label: queer

Right or Left Handed: left handed Marks: one (1) piercing in each ear, tattoos (TBA)

Schooling: PhD in biochemistry, BA in fine arts Languages Spoken: English (native speaker), ASL, Spanish, French, Sindarin (Elvish)

PAST:

He grew up in the middle of nowhere, Oklahoma, to a family of farmers. When he was born, the cattle got sick and that was what got him into science. He went on to be the first person in his direct family line to graduate from University, let alone the first doctor.

To say Bran was born with bad luck would be both mean and accurate. If he were to drive, either car troubles or traffic would get in the way. Biking? Crash or be crashed into.

His stroke of good luck, however, came from a fellow scientist and silky hair butterflies. Being one of the older members of the team, Bran helped keep things on track, until things went sidewards.

PRESENT & SURVIVAL SKILLS:

After a few years of working with NASA and stockpiling vacation days, when his old teammate contacts him, extending an olive branch, he decides to bury the hatchet. Unfortunately, the hatchet seems to want to bury itself in him as the bad luck continues - the plane crashes. Of course, it does.

Standing at a solid 6"5 and having grown up on a farm, paired with regular kickboxing, Bran is strong enough to help with any heavy lifting, with stamina to spare. His farming background also makes them good with animals and cooking 'from the Earth' (aka he used to regularly camp w his dad and brothers for the sake of 'survival skills').

SOCIAL:

Bran grew up in a big, comfortable family, preferring his own company to other peoples’. Despite his height, he was the shortest of his brothers by mere centimetres but he made up for it by being the eldest. Earnest as he tried to be, friends were never his strong suit but once made, he will become fiercely protective over them. But that trust, once broken, isn't easy to repair.

[ladystoneboobs]

possibly incomplete list of asoiaf characters described as having red or even "ginger" hair (or red-gold as opposed to red-brown or ghiscari red-black), never auburn:

mycah, the butcher's boy*

beric dondarrion (red-gold hair)*

lharys, member of the three stooges men-at-arms (wild rust-colored hair)**

unnamed and unfortunate mother of robert baratheon's doomed youngest child, barra (light red-haired mother of black-haired baby)*

tomard aka "fat tom", stark guardsman (with his ginger whiskers)*

horas "horror" redwyne (orange hair)*

hobber "slobber" redwyne (orange hair)*

unnamed red-haired whore leaning out a window the day of ned's execution (presumably not the same as above since she was joking about the king's death)*

melisandre of asshai (deep burnished copper. red and terrible and red.)*

a man called jaqen h'ghar (red on one side, white on the other)*

pug-nosed dancy from chataya's brothel (described as red-haired by tyrion in acok but honey-blonde in asos, so presumably hair dye must have been involved between those book mentions.)**

addam marbrand (hair the same copper color as his horse's mane)*

"ginger-headed" maester frenken*

unnamed beardless ginger youth among theon's crew at winterfell*

ygritte, a spearwife "kissed-by-fire" (bright red)*

arryk aka "left" or "right", lady olenna's red-mustached guardsman*

erryk aka "left" or "right", lady olenna's other, identical, red-mustached guardsman*

lord paxter redwyne (tufts of orange hair)**

anguy the archer of the bwb*

a red-bearded karstark rapist dead in a crow cage at stoney sept*

tansy, innkeeper of the peach in stoney sept*

meryn trant (rust-red hair)*

"red" ronnet connington

mero, "the titan's bastard", former commander of the second sons (bushy red-gold beard)

a red-headed soldier who came with stannis to the wall

shadrich "the mad mouse" (bristly orange hair)*

lord rykker's red-mustached maester

marwyn belmore, lysa's former guard captain (ginger-headed)*

lord benedar belmore with a beard that was "a ginger-grey horror"*

lord orton merryweather (reddish-orange hair)

"the red oarsman", one of euron greyoy's followers (fiery red hair)

unnamed red-haired sailor arriving at port in braavos*

lord clement piper

and his son lewys "little lew" piper, who served as squire to jaime lannister in the riverlands

unnamed red-haired youth who first escaped northward with varamyr from the battle at the wall

one of illyrio's washerwomen (dull red hair)**

jon connington (once red hair gone to grey, still red at the roots and eyebrows even when the rest was dyed blue. also had a bright red beard as a younger man.)**

rolly "duck" duckfield (a shock of orange hair)**

a young man among the wildling refugees at mole's town whose red hair reminded jon of ygritte*

the "sunset kingdoms" girl raped by tyrion in the brothel where he was captured by jorah**

hagen's daughter, only other woman among asha greyjoy's crew

roggon rustbeard, one of asha's men

mully of the nw (greasy orange hair)*

bloodbeard, commander of the company of the cat (fiery red whiskers)

"ginger" jack, a toungeless sellsword of the windblown sent to dany, face nearly covered by his bristly, orange beard

gerrick kingsblood*

and his son*

and gerrick's daughter #1*

and gerrick's daughter #2*

and gerrick's daughter #3*

ronald storm, son of ronnet connington

one of the 7 "choicest" enslaved girls from the yunkish ship who were sacrificed by victarion (red-gold hair)

an enslaved redhead boy in line for a well, asking tyrion about dany**

nail, apprentice to hammer, the armorer for the second sons**

maester tybald, redhaired maester from the dreadfort serving arnolf karstark

valena toland, heiress to ghost hill (bright red hair)

teora toland, valena's younger sister with the same hair

uther shett, knight arriving for sweetrobin's tourney (ginger-haired and whiskered)*

*characters whose hair is described in the povs of starks (or jon snow) who only use the terms auburn or red-brown for catelyn, robb, sansa etc. and do not compare said characters to said tully-haired relations

**characters whose hair is described by tyrion lannister, who spent significant time with sansa and exclusively referred to her hair as auburn (without anyone else telling him her hair color as catelyn told brienne)

the only asoiaf characters ever described as having auburn hair:

catelyn tully stark

robb stark (red-brown/auburn tully hair "so like" his mother's, with a beard redder than his hair)

sansa stark (auburn hair lighter than her mother's, most reddish glowing in candlelight)

brandon "bran" stark (hair not bright red enough for him to distinguish himself from young benjen at first glance in a weirwood flashback)

rickon stark

brynden "the blackfish" tully (once auburn hair gone to grey)

edmure tully (auburn hair with a fiery beard, likely brighter than his hair like robb's)

lysa tully arryn baelish

known tully descendants never described as having auburn hair

arya stark (darker brown stark-colored hair)

hoster tully (hair and beard gone from brown to brown streaked with grey to white as snow)

robert "sweetrobin" arryn (fine brown hair, thought by sansa to be his best feature)

fun fact: the only other character that i can find to ever even be descibed as having red-brown hair in the main series is rowan, one of the spearwives who accompanied mance on his mission to winterfell. (described by theon, who had psychological reasons not to think of any hair-resemblance to robb and co.)

tl;dr i suppose my point here is that auburn hair in the real world may be a term thrown around wildly as a fancier way of saying red hair, but grrm and his westerosi creations seem to keep to a much more specific (true) definition. not just specific, almost entirely unique to a certain family, a weird mutation passing down their line somewhat inexplicably, like the magic platinum hair of the targaryens. (ned stark's 4 tully-haired kids being sorta like alicent hightower's 4 targ-haired kids where nobody can really explain why it was so dominant.) except it's actually more unique to the tullys than either black hair to the baratheons or silver hair to the targaryens, with the velaryons also having valyrian hair as well as some people in the essosi free cities too. which i guess makes rowan the wildling the equalivent of an unknown dragonseed or a lysene woman who could pass as a targ, and regular brown-haired hoster and sweetrobin the equivalent of regular blonde-haired alysanne and alyssa targaryen. so the next time someone calls the tullys lame or whatever, just remember that in-universe they're actually more special than the dragonriders, at least hairwise.

[hopalongfairywren]

would you perhaps blorbo a cranboo?

He's not my cup of tea but I can see why he's a fan fav. Sir what were you doing at the red banquet shoo shoo you are in more animatics than Hannah is for that.

[nasirofmanderlys]

who: @wintervsuns​ where: the chambers of the hand of the king within winterfell, shortly after the body of meera reed came through winterfell’s courtyard.

relief, was the first thing the lord of white harbor felt upon the revelation of who it was that had been rolled through the gates of winterfell. relief, to know that somewhere, his sister remained alive and breathing thanks to the will of the gods; as far as he knew so far. that somewhere, the fact she remained unmarried, was worth something; it was also her biggest threat. the next feeling was immense feelings of guilt, considering they were within the courtyard when the hand of the king realised it was the corpse of his wife that had been rolled publicly through the gates of winterfell, as though she were nothing. 

she was his everything. the whole winter court knew of the way he adored his wife.

there had been something more to the marriage of the sun of winter and the lady of greywater watch. not entirely arranged, a history of her strange presence enjoying the warmth he emitted to those around him. nasir noticed over a course of many years how she would go from lingering in corners, too strange and on edge to take a seat in the great hall, unaware of who to sit with - and time after time she would end up at the same table as brandon karstark, by his own calling. the only one who closely associated with the strange woman, bellowing her name over the chattering crowds.

the thought made him want to be sick, that his instant reaction was relief. relief it was not his sister. but that did not mean he was relieved to know it was brandon’s wife - or was he? “you’ll get yourself killed if you leave now.” nasir’s voice came through the hand of the king’s chambers, as he stood before the door. 

still, now he heard news of his departure. his wish to encrypt his wife within the crypts of karhold, which remained surrounded. karhold had been cut off, and even by sea, there was the risk of being attacked upon by the isle of skagos and whatever support they had gathered from the three sisters of the vale. another matter for the lord of white harbor to deal with, ontop of the pushing threat of the boltons on the borders of his lands. nasir thought brandon would die if he left now, even with combined karstark and reed soldiers.

“reed men included, you will make yourself a prime target. your men will tire from constant attacks as you push through enemy land. even the seas are not safe, but if you’ll take the risk, i’ll provide you ships. id wager it safer than pushing through by land, even with skagos and the three sisters.” 

almost as though her final gift to him was to give him the resources to help him survive. it made him want to look upon his own wife, to wrap his arms around her from behind as he always did. 

[wintervsuns]

who: @owenstark​ where: the king’s personal audience chambers in winterfell, following the corpse of lady meera reed being placed in private quarters within the hand of the king’s wing in winterfell. 

the labyrinth walls of winterfell were a blur. it felt as though the bile that sat at the very back of his throat refused to go down, constantly risking coming up at the mere thought. the mere memory. he heard the sound of his boots against the stone below him, but that was all he could hear and all he could feel - as though his legs were guiding him to where he needed to go. controlling where he needed to go, and yet it felt as though his being was somewhere else. 

his being was in the room where his wife was laid out beneath a white sheet, in the bed that was their own within winterfell; the constant prayers being muttered around her in the sun tongue of karhold’s lands, her ladies crying quietly with their hands to their mouth.

it seemed as though his soul left his body the moment he saw the bruises around her neck; harsh purple against porcelain skin. and the sun of winter felt no shame in his household knowing their lord mourned for their lady; the beginning of something their union was supposed to be. the beginning to a new chapter in their lives. the strange reed woman people feared, forever lingering in the shadows of the great hall; in reality, too nervous to find a seat at table. he had made her their table. he would have done anything, and everything, for the woman he had taken as his wife beneath the godstree. and now, after everything, here they were.

and somewhere within him, that was a part of him, some twisted dark eclipse that felt his very chest caving in. how much had he lost? his sister dead at the hands of the wildlings. his wife dead at the hands of a false pretender king. his home and his land surrounded - where his mother and his brother remained. and there was a part of him that wanted to curse the king of winter, and his fucking fantasy he had built in his head - the amount of power the pretender had was startling. even the nights watch. even the fucking watch. 

some things can be left alone. some things needed to be left alone. 

there was one thing meera reed had left him; something that did not make him feel as though he would be able to sit and disassociate from his entire body. something that was more than the memories that only made him sob, memories he knows would make him smile one day - and those were men. men of greywater watch, and the lands of house reed. men he had picked up on the return north, summoning them to winterfell. and as he entered the chambers of owen stark, he saw his oldest friend.

he saw his king.

he saw a king he had lost nearly everything for. and again, he felt the urge to be sick at the urge that came over him. he wished to slam him into a wall, he wished to bludgeon him with his fists. his fucking fantasy swung the odds out of power. such was the thin line when childhood boys, distant kin, are separated by king and crown. 

“i’ll be gone in the morning, with karstark and reed men.”

[thewingedwolf]

i swear to god i saw someone suggest that bran as king might marry a martell in an attempt to keep peace between the north and dorne and settle things in westeros, but given that the only female martell alive is arianne, she’d attempt to marry him to one of the sands, but bran might agree bc of his own relationship with Jon, but then tumblr refreshed before i could dig into it so WHO WROTE THIS THEORY I MUST KNOW MORE