#oathkeeper family

[scarlet-flowers]

Commission done by APTICHO.

[regallibellbright]

My brother and I got on the topic of Kingdom Hearts, allowing ourselves to play off each other for twenty minutes or so including me laying out the theory of Keyblade Duplication Glitching as it pertains to 3 (where Ven’s, Terra’s, Sora’s, Roxas’s, Xion’s, and very probably Xehanort’s Keyblades, at least some of which are actually the SAME Keyblade listed more than once, must have duplicated themselves at SOME point here to all be present simultaneously/Terranort and Master Xehanort to both be present.) Bro followed it, but then finishes with:

Bro: Again, I’m playing Final Fantasy XIII, a straightforward video game.

Yeah once you get used to the proper nouns it’s not that hard to follow 13.

[hubristicassholefight]

Swordswoman Showdown Round 4/Quarterfinal

Kikunojo (One Piece) vs Brienne of Tarth (A Song Of Ice and Fire)

(Better here in a "preferred character" sense, not "who would win in a fight")

Propaganda below cut

Kikunojo

She is a samurai and a retainer for the Kozuki Family, serving as one of the Nine Red Scabbards, a group of samurai that protect the Kozuki family and their country. She's a very skillful samurai, and she and her group managed to delay and hold off the main villain of the arc, (which was an almost insurmountable task for even the main character) and survived the experience despite her horrible injuries; She's canonically and openly trans! And she's gorgeous. And huge... She's 287 cm tall, which for the USAmericans in the audience is 9' 5". She's simply the coolest.

She’s a samurai and fights with a sword; tall trans woman <3

Legendary devoted samurai!; She's 2.87m tall, a time traveler, and not even losing an arm in the middle of the fight stopped her- she had it imediately cauterized and went back to the fight.

She's a lady samurai! Pretty and very skillful with her katana!

She is a samurai who was sent 20 years into the future to avenge the death of her lord; She’s so tall and canonically trans and I love her

She’s a badass samurai who fights for what she believes in and to help people. She is known as Kiku of lingering snow. She’s also canonically trans

She's a time traveling trans samurai, the only woman in a group of 9 legendary samurais; Her arm was chopped off by the biggest baddie so far and she continued fighting, isn't that badass?

One of the strongest samurai in her country; She's a trans icon

#kiku the greatest of all time#🐐#tall and gorgeous samurai lady#who is a trans icon#love that she is so tall that she doesn't fit in the image display#gets recognized as strong by the main character multiple times and proves it by being the most resilient badass of the entire arc#stands up to tyrants and abusers of class privilege#also helps break said main character out of the enemies prison and takes part in a rebellion against the corrupt prison staff#one piece#okiku#kiku

#kiku is canonically trans

Brienne

gets gifted a sword made with the rarest metal ever because she’s THAT good; she’s simply the best

Brienne is one of the top sword users alive in her day. She's descended from a man who's catchphrase was "I'm better with a sword." Better than what? You. Jaime Lannister. Loras Tyrell. Any five given guys at once. She has a fantastic sword that might be magic or cursed and is named Oathkeeper because that's what she does; I love her

Beat like 20 guys in a tournament when she was 19. Was given a magic sword. Won a sword fight against the premier swordsman in the realm. Very swordly; Very tall and strong. Holds her sword in high esteem. Accomplished with other weapons as well!

She's defeated multiple of the top knights in the series in duels. One such knight gifts her the fabergé egg of swords and she uses it to defend orphans and stuff. Got out of a bad betrothal by dueling him and beating his ass so bad she broke multiple bones. Honestly there's so much more she is the swordswoman of all time. to me; She's buff and ugly and 6' 5" and so honorable and kind that she inspires the guy who fucks his sister to yknow. stop doing that. literally gets mauled for the sake of protecting a bunch of orphans (with her sword). also she's 20 she should be at the club ‼️

One of the best sword wielders in Westeros, the author says he would pick her to defend him. Has a cool sword called Oathkeeper. Manages to go up against 7 fighters and take out most of them,. The only true knight; First off, talking about book brienne, they massacred show brienne, the show runners simply didn’t understand what she’s about.“ She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice” brienne had plenty of choice but she couldn’t leave people to die. The chivalric paradigm is rotten and corrupted, but here is Brienne, the one true knight, who isn’t even a actual knight! “knights are for killing”, but here is a knight who risks her life again and again to protect innocents! Bri IS hope, she is the light in the dark that shows that things can be better, things must be better. Fundamentally an idealist: “Winter will never come for the likes of us. Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it's always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining”

[catofoldstones]

The thing about arya fans' argument that arya comes before sansa in the line of succession because robb disinherited her because of her forced marriage is the underlying misogyny and victim blaming of it, and their assumption that grrm thinks the same. We don't have jon [you know the actual person robb chose over sansa, and i think its time we start talking that the will specifically was about sansa and jon and that shit means something narratively] asserting that winterfell belongs to sansa despite everything and him not falling to the bait of stannis calling her a lannister, to just assume that according to grrm what robb did was OK. If people actually think grrm wants to show robb was right and girls truly are not important and thus his disinheritance of his sister's rights will be upheld, then they need their heads checked. Its not like he showed us that jaehaerys's sexism was what led to death of the dragons and downfall of targaryens even though grrm considers him a good ruler. Ultimately, catelyn will be validated when brienne saves either sansa or arya with oathkeeper and sansa will become lady of winterfell/qitn DESPITE robb's will. He [and arya fans] can suck it.

Hi soulmate anon,

Before we start, I have to let you know that one our previous posts was screenshotted and circulated in the arya stans circles because “we’re spreading our agenda on a neutral public platform” or something along those lines. Idk if you’ve seen that or not but I had to let you know before we go off kicking another hornet’s nest lol.

Anyway, that out of the way, to the Arya stans who are so hellbent upon removing Sansa from the Stark succession, Robb declared Jon as his heir, pushing Sansa further down the line (not disinheriting her jesus fuck) because through her Tyrion may lay claim to Winterfell, landing it in the hands of the Lannisters, exactly what Robb and Cat are trying to prevent. Robb didn’t “disinherit” Arya because he thought she was dead. Hope that helps.

WAIT!

the will being specifically about Jon and Sansa and that we need to start thinking about that narratively

SCREAM

Okay, I have now moved on (I have not). Though please feel free to talk about this more, I wanna know more. Guess I’ll now have to add jonsa tag to this answer hehe :P

I mean Robb did come from a place of “authority over the female members of his family” here with the will and that’s exactly the kind of thing we have to side eye. Taking it at face value and uncritically thinking about it is not a fair way to engage with the text I feel. You’re right when Jon himself reiterates Sansa’s claim over Winterfell, we are supposed to think twice whether Robb’s action was equitable or not. Stannis calls Sansa “Lady Lannister” to coax Jon into staking a claim over Winterfell so that Stannis gets a good reason to march to Winterfell and attack the Boltons (which he will anyway, but Jon’s, a member of the Stark family, support would mean political backing and reason). If we fall in the trap that Stannis thinks Sansa is now a Lannister, and therefore she is now a Lannister with no claim to Winterfell, then we’ve lost the plot and are coming from the same misogynistic hypocrisy (he wants Shireen on the throne if he dies but calls Sansa a Lannister, how does that work old man?) that destroys Westeros (your Jaehaerys example). And are no different from a crusty medieval era middle aged man btw.

It’s so fucking funny when the readers start emulating the same sexism that the author wants them to critique, and then start calling themselves feminists because they’re supporting a woman’s rights! Which woman’s rights besties? Because the one that clearly has them, you’re actively against her staking her claim. Wait till they read the books with their eyes open and realise that Arya comes at the end of the heirs to winterfell list, despite Sansa getting “disinherited” lmao. And I love Robb, he’s just a boy trying to do his best, but he truly made mistakes, especially with not listening to Catelyn. We also cannot deny the undercurrent of misogyny and chauvinism that Robb demonstrated with the will. Re Sansa’s rights and Jon’s decision to be with the Nights Watch. I will patiently wait for Catelyn to be validated and Sansa to be the Lady/QiTN not only because that subverts reader’s expectations and Westerosi patriarchal standards but because I want to see Sansa antis have a grand old meltdown.

[jaimexbrienne-fic-finder]

Wedding

May is Wedding month, so here are stories about weddings! Some are only about a wedding, some just have a bigger part about a wedding. There are lots more I can't remember right now, if I think of many more there will be a part 2!

Found Wanting by dreadwulf

Brienne is still convinced that the entire affair is a joke on her. Surely there is a real bride somewhere in the castle, who will be brought out once the crowd has had a good laugh at the cow in a satin gown. When she said as much to her intended, he said it was surely a joke on them both. Let them laugh, he said. What’s funnier is that Queen Daenerys made the match in the first place – she must have thought them intolerable to one another. The Beauty and the Kingslayer. Surely Brienne could see the humor in it?

Something Drastic by bearsofair

Brienne ducks out of a wedding reception early. Her "date" comes looking for her.

the battlefield between us (isn't here tonight) by robotsdance

“I missed you, ” Brienne says like she’s admitting something else, and Jaime wants to say it back to her in exactly the same way: loaded with all of the things they’re not saying. Let that truth settle between them, unsaid but at least somewhat spoken. That could be enough. To share that quiet understanding with Brienne, here, alone together in the middle of the woods, in the middle of a war, in which one of them will be on the losing side. That could be enough. I missed you too.

Brienne would understand.

What Jaime says instead is “Marry me.”

The Lion, the Wench, and the Wardrobe Trailer by GilShalos1

Jaime Lannister’s entire acting career has been built on playing reckless cads and heartless villains – ever since a scandalous death on his first film, Kingslayer, was quickly hushed up at his father’s behest. Nearly fifteen years later, acclaimed director Olenna Tyrell has announced her retirement: after one last film, Oathkeeper, inspired by the mythic story of the Long Night. She wants Jaime to do what he does so well, play into his on-screen persona and off-screen reputation, and be a villain for the ages in her final film. But to make sure his infamous ways don’t interfere with production, she requires his personal assistant to keep him on the straight, narrow and sober. Brienne Tarth, in her first job on a film set, finds herself tasked with keeping the impossible Jaime Lannister under control …

Something Blue by Aviss

Jaime Lannister was a wedding planner, though he sometimes missed his old job where he was actually allowed to kill people. Ten minutes with his latest clients and he was already convinced they should not get married. He wasn't a marriage counsellor though, he wasn't invested in this Hunt and Tarth wedding beyond the planning of the ceremony.

Never A Bride by CourtingDisaster

(Modern AU) Wedding bells are ringing in Westeros. After an unpleasant first meeting, Brienne and Jaime find themselves being thrown together over and over as their friends and family marry off. After all, as Tyrion likes to point out, there really aren't any other groomsmen tall enough to escort everyone's favorite bridesmaid...

Over the course of several weddings and receptions, Brienne and Jaime form a sort of truce, perhaps they even become friends. But Brienne isn't going to let the atmosphere of romance carry her away, no matter how handsome Jaime is...is she?

Vows by theworldunseen

Jaime Lannister profiles the most interesting and romantic weddings in the country for his super popular blog, The only problem? His own heart has been stomped on, and it might have ruined weddings for him forever. When he finds out about a woman who’s going to be in her twenty-seventh wedding party, he thinks writing about her might be his way back to loving weddings. But Brienne Tarth isn’t anything he ever expected.

What happens in Sunspear (doesn't) stay in Sunspear Series by Luthien

Brienne wakes up the morning after a night on the town in Vegas Sunspear, with unexpected company in her bed - and that's just the first surprising discovery she makes.

My Best Friend's Wedding by wildlingoftarth

A desperate Brienne hires a “professional party date” to accompany her to Renly’s wedding on Tarth. It’s just a weekend – what could go wrong?

so keep me close. by SeeThemFlying

Brienne pines for her husband, Jaime, who she is convinced is not madly in love with her.

[taevbears]

Magic Shop - 13

Every coin has two sides

⤑ pairing: OT7 x witch!reader, Namjoon focused ⤑ genre: magic au, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, found family, domestic/slice of life, action/adventure ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 10.3k ⤑ warnings: descriptive violence, body horror, near-death of a main character, prejudice and oppression of mages, heavy angst. ⤑ note: lol bc last week, i had already written out the entire chapter and just meant to edit and post it last weekend. but then another idea struck me while i was at work, and even tho i meant to just change ONE scene, it started leading to a completely different ending. so lol here i am, one week later, after rewriting half this chapter 💀 this chapter is also heavily inspired by "A Village Under Siege" and "The Attack at Nightfall" quests in Dragon Age: Origins + the world of necromancer bells from the "Old Kingdom Series" by Garth Nix

Chapters: Series Masterlist | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

From the distance, an old windmill is spotted over a hill. Its turbines spin slowly with the breeze, and the weathered bricks keep it standing tall after all these years. The distinct landmark signifies one thing.

Hawthorn Village. You’re finally here.

And it’s just as Namjoon remembers it.

Nostalgia hits him as you all cross the bridge that leads into the village. Thatched roofs and walls made of stone and wood. A large well near the center of the square where he used to make wishes upon as a kid. The elementary school he went to, the old church that his parents religiously attended, and the farmlands with livestock and crop mazes.

Much to his dismay, the aftereffects of the nightly terrors have taken its toll on his beloved hometown.

People are trying their best to get through another day, distributing produce to feed the hungry and burning the dead. A blacksmith with tired eyes insistently pounds iron with a hammer to make new weapons that will give them a better chance against the enemies. A militiaman tries to keep up morale, although most of the remaining men are just farmers and workers – none of them trained to fight. Survivors step out of the infirmary tents, wrapped in bandages but still in pain. A small child cries, looking for their parents.

Doom hangs in the air. Haunted and defeated are the faces of Hawthorn’s residents, as the looming threat of another unsettling fight is set before them.

“What’s happened here?” Seokjin asks one of the villagers.

A middle-aged man’s light up when he sees your group. “I haven’t seen you folks before. Have you come to help us? Did our notices finally reach someone?”

It isn’t long until the group is ushered to the local church. Gathered by the altar is the mayor of the village. Dark circles are under his eyes from sleepless nights, but he looks at you all with hope as the villager announces you’re all from a guild. Then, he explains to your party their dire situation.

Decomposing corpses return to life at night with the hunger for flesh, and they have been attacking this small village for the past few nights. From dusk until dawn, these attacks on Hawthorn are relentless. Each night, they come in greater numbers. Due to the necromancer and dark magic being involved, no one has been responding to their urgent calls for help. The local hunters have been summoned to the capital, and guilds often overlook their tiny settlement when they pass by.

All of Hawthorn fears that tonight will be the worst attack yet.

“You’re our only hope,” the mayor pleads. “Hawthorn won’t stand a chance otherwise.”

The Oathkeepers look at Seokjin, but his eyes are on Namjoon. He feels the rest of you looking at him too. As if it’s up to him to decide whether his hometown is worth saving, or if the quest at hand is deemed too dangerous to assist. Allowing him to back out now before they’re obligated to see things through, no matter what the risk.

“Of course we’ll help,” Namjoon decides without hesitation. “Tell us what you need.”

Tonight, things look pretty grim.

Morale within the village is at its lowest. After multiple perilous nights of terror and gruesome deaths, the ones still alive are worried they’ll be next. That nothing will remain of their beloved Hawthorn once the sun goes down.

“Someone has to know something about the necromancer. We have to find out who is terrorizing the village and what their motive is,” Namjoon concludes as you all gather outside the church to debrief. “We also need to help the residents prepare for tonight’s battle: teach them how to properly hold weapons, encourage every able-body to help with the fight, and inspire them to defend the land and their community.”

“Leave the villagers to us,” Seokjin offers, gesturing at himself and the members of his guild. “We’ll do our best to get everyone ready before sundown. You just focus on finding that necromancer.”

“Taehyung and I are going to look at their resources,” Hoseok informs, surveying the infirmary tents. “I might be able to make something for the injured.”

“We’ll check on the blacksmith,” Yoongi says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “He was in rough shape when we passed by. Half of the villagers aren’t wearing proper armor and are carrying broken weapons. Repairs need to be done if they want to stand a fighting chance.”

“Taverns are a great source of information,” Jackson mentions as he eyes the local pub. A smile touches his lips as he wonders out loud, “Maybe I can even convince the owner to give out free shots of courage to the fighters.”

“Then Jungkook and I will talk to the farmers,” Namjoon decides as he looks at his familiar, who nods his head in agreement. “The notice mentions that they’re the ones who suspect dark magic is at hand. Maybe one of them saw something that can give us a clue to where our necromancer is.”

With a solid plan set, the party breaks off to their assigned tasks.

Tonight still looks grim, but there’s hope.

With success, they might be able to turn everything around before nightfall.

“Any luck?” you ask when you see Namjoon and Jungkook circling back to the village square after a while.

“Not really,” Namjoon mulls with a sigh.

“They said the horde comes from all around the village. One night, they’re skeletons from the village’s graveyard. Another night, they’ve come from the nearby lake or from the thickets of the woods,” Jungkook explains with a frown. Whoever they talk to seems to have different descriptions of the undead creatures. “Most of the villagers are too busy trying to stay alive to keep track of what’s been causing the dead to rise.”

“They did confirm one thing, though,” Namjoon adds before he throws a glance at his familiar. “They heard the sound of bells.”

“Bells?” you echo, looking between them.

“It’s how the necromancers summon the dead,” Jungkook simply explains. “Without them, they’re just like any other mage.”

“Good to know,” you mutter, shivering at the thought of hearing strange bells in the middle of the night. At least, if nothing else, you’ll be able to take away their advantage.

Still, a mage that has the skills to control the dead must be incredibly powerful.

“How is everything here?” Namjoon asks as he looks around.

“Good. Jin is a natural at raising morale,” you reply, looking over to where a small crowd chants Seokjin’s name. The others in his guild have been teaching them how to use their weapons, and although they’re still clearly unskilled, their progress is still quite an improvement from before.

“Hoseok-hyung looks like he has things under control in the infirmary,” Jungkook points out. The nurses and patients around him are in awe at the simple potions he had given them, claiming that he must be a miracle doctor. They also look smitten over Taehyung, who’s soothing voice calms and comforts the bedridden a bit.

“Yoongi-hyung, too,” Namjoon notes when he looks at your familiar, sitting over an anvil and helping the blacksmith craft weapons of steel. With assistance, it seems like the blacksmith will be able to get repairs done in time after all.

Shouts and cheers from the tavern show that Jackson, somehow, persuaded the bartender to give out free ale to the villagers. Although tipsy, their spirits are high, and they seem eager to fight after a round of complimentary drinks.

“I’ll help Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook states, interested in what they’re doing. He approaches the blacksmith, who seems elated to have additional assistance.

“We should probably check on Jackson. Maybe he’s heard something,” you suggest, turning toward the tavern. But Namjoon grabs your hand and pulls you back.

“Actually,” he starts, suddenly a little nervous. He takes a deep breath before he tells you, “There’s something I need to do first. Before it’s too late.”

At age thirteen, Namjoon awakened the power of magic. The feeling of bestowment is like fire. The initial spark of energy courses through his veins and spreads within him. Mesmerizing, alluring, and dangerous. No matter how much he reads and tries to understand his abilities, there’s always something new to learn, to incantate, and to master through his connection to the Veil.

Magic is both a blessing and a curse. Two sides of the same coin.

At first, Namjoon hated what he was. He hated that he became a mage.

Every night, when he was locked away in Alterwood Keep or WIndshire Tower, he questioned what he had done to be damned with such misfortune.

Magic is what burned his family’s home to the ground. Magic is what got him taken away from his parents, his friends, and his village – everything he knew. Magic is what lured the hunters into killing Ignis, turned Adriel into a beast, and shunned him from his home for so long.

The same home he stands before now.

“This is it,” Namjoon tells you, looking at an ordinary-looking house.

It’s been rebuilt over the years. Shabby, but somewhat similar to what it used to be. The curtains are identical to the ones his mother had put on the windows, down to the same shade of color. The front has pots of flowers that she liked to grow, and as the weather warmed, she’d smile as they began to bloom. Inside, Namjoon is certain he’d find a small collection of books his father would’ve read, and upon his favorite chair, he used to emphasize the importance of education and the pursuit of knowledge.

Your fingers thread through his. “Are you ready?”

He looks at you and nods his head.

At age nineteen, shortly after he was transferred to Blackstone Castle, he finally started to see magic as a positive force in his life.

Magic is what brought you all together, intertwining your fates with each other like red strings of soulmates. Magic is what makes the ordinary, unassuming shop at New Haven come to life and keep you all safe and happy. Magic is what brings him back to where it all started, with you by his side.

Years have passed since that fateful day he was taken from his parents. He’s started to accept that magic is a part of him. For all its wickedness and destruction, and all its serenity and wonder. Two sides of the same coin.

He just hopes, as he raises his hand to knock on the door, his parents will accept him as well. Magic and all.

The door swings open. An older woman stands on the other side. “Yes, can I help you?”

There’s a polite but cautious smile on her face, and deep dimples on her cheeks that match Namjoon’s. The resemblance between them is unmistakable.

“Hi Mother,” Namjoon greets her with his own nervous, dimpled smile. His hand squeezes yours for assurance. “It’s me. Your son.”

Confusion turns to recognition, which turns from surprise to disbelief. You watch as the woman looks at Namjoon like he’s a ghost.

“Y-You. You shouldn’t be here,” she stutters, lip trembling as her eyes water. Her hand is pressed to her heart as she steps away from the door. 

An older man notices his wife’s distress and comes to the door as well. He puts an arm around her and frowns at you two, not seeming to recognize the young man who has his height and strong build. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Father, it’s me,” Namjoon tries to say, but his voice is small. He’s starting to think that this is a bad idea. “Kim Namjoon. I’m your son.”

Like the woman, the man is initially shocked by the news. But then, his eyes narrow at Namjoon angrily. “What are the likes of you doing here, boy? Don’t we have enough to deal with?”

Namjoon visibly stiffens at the harshness in his father’s voice. “I’m here on a quest. I’ve come to learn that our village is under attack.”

“My village doesn’t need your help!” his father yells, spit flying as he holds his wife protectively. “Magic is what got us into this mess! Magic will make things worse!”

“Let’s get out of here,” you quietly urge, frowning at their hostility.

This is like his nightmares. Their looks of hatred and disdain burn under his skin, searing themselves into his memories. It’s hard for him to breathe, it’s hard for him to think. Suddenly, he feels so small. Like he’s a child again, standing before the fires that destroyed his home and took everything from him.

“Get away from him if you know what’s good for you, little girl,” the man warns, finally noticing that you’re there. “He’s something Wicked. His magic put us all in danger and ruined our lives!”

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon chokes out. The words that he wanted to tell his parents after all these years. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Get out! Do not come here again!” his father interrupts as his mother bursts into tears, burying her face into her husband’s shoulder. He grabs whatever is closest to him and waves it in a threatening manner. “Get away from our house before you destroy it!”

Namjoon obliges, stepping away from the door. He looks deeply hurt as he tries again. “But Father—”

“Do not call me that!” he barks as he gives him one more hateful glare. “We don’t have a son. Not anymore.”

Then, he slams the door shut.

“That went well,” Namjoon comments, sarcasm thick in his voice. He sits on a broken crate in the alleyway the two of you end up in and sighs. “I feel like an idiot.”

Part of him had known that, maybe, his parents weren't going to give him the warmest welcome. Part of him even thought that, perhaps, his parents wouldn’t recognize him.

Still, it hurts.

It hurts that he had expected otherwise. That he had hoped his parents would listen to him and forgive him. That they’d come to accept him.

But they’ve made it more than clear that Hawthorn Village and the house he grew up in is no longer his home. And that the parents who raised him are no longer his family.

Namjoon always knew this scenario could’ve been a possibility. And yet, he foolishly wanted to be wrong.

“Joon…” Your voice calls out from behind him, but you seem at a loss of words.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes, feeling incredibly dejected as he keeps his back to you. “I shouldn’t have bothered. I should’ve known it’d be a waste of time.”

And it hurts. It hurts so badly.

Knowing that all his efforts to return home — and all the punishments he took for running away — were fruitless. That no matter how hard he tries to be good and understand his magic, nothing will change.

In the end, Ignis really died for nothing. And that’s probably what hurts the most.

Namjoon half-expects you to scold him for dragging you along. For you to comment how you knew this was a bad idea, and that you both have other important things to worry about right now.

Instead, you approach him and gently wrap your arms around his neck. Your body is pressed against his back, hugging him from behind. Neither of you speak as he stiffens under your touch. But he places his hand over your arm in a wordless request to stay.

And you do. You stay with him, kissing his tear-stained cheeks and wishing you could do more to comfort him.

But to Namjoon, this is enough. Being with you is more than enough.

When the sun goes down, the dead awakens.

Villagers of Hawthorn scramble indoors, locking themselves inside and barricading the doors and windows. The church bells are quiet, not to be rung until morning light. Everywhere is an eerie silence, and those left to fend off the inevitable enemies swallow their fears as they train their eyes on the horizon.

There, a green fog mixes with the misty air, and the putrid stench of rotting flesh slowly advances toward them. Death is coming, and with it, alarming numbers of the undead.

“All right, everyone!” the mayor begins, taking command of the last line of defense. The odds are heavily against them, but he has to keep up what little morale they still have left. “We’ve driven off this evil before. We can do it again for one more night. We fight, or we die trying!”

With that said, the villagers charge in. Battle cries ring out as they use their pitchforks, shovels, and scythes to attack the incoming herd.

But they only get so close before the fear sets in.

Death looks them in the eye. Corpses with lifeless, glowing eyes, flesh rotten and decayed, and bones visible as they unhinge their jaws and let out an unsettling groan.

Some of them flee the opposite direction, running away from their foes. Some stand frozen, panic seizing them in place. Some, unable to stand the horrid smell, drop their weapons and retch out their stomach’s contents.

The villagers don’t stand a chance.

Then, they begin to hear it.

In the dark, rural farmlands, the sonorous sound of bells toll. Yet, when their eyes gaze to the local church, the large brass on the tower is completely still. If it’s not from the church, where are the bells coming from?

A scream pierces the air. The mayor turns to see a woman swinging an axe around violently. Her eyes are wide with terror, fixed on something before her, but there isn’t anyone around her. She continues to scream at something to get away from her as she slashes the air.

Two friends suddenly turn on each other. The two men have been buddies for years, and it’s like they don’t recognize their friend. They have that same, wild look in their eyes as they grab each other and raise their weapons.

The mayor’s heart hammers in his chest as they turn against each other, mistaking alley for enemy. “Men, what are you doing? Stop it!”

But it’s too late.

Blood splatters. Followed by cries of agony.

Horrified, the mayor gets away before they try to hurt him as well. As he runs, he grabs a woman’s shoulders and tries to warn her not to listen to the bells. But when she turns to face him, her face is completely disfigured. The flesh looks like it’s melting off her skin, bone and muscle peeking as she smiles wickedly.

“What’s wrong, mayor?” the woman asks, but her voice sounds off. Another voice is layered over hers – deep and raspy, almost demonic – that clearly isn’t her own.

The mayor lets her go and shrinks back in fear. As he looks around, he sees that the undead have somehow surrounded him. They stand there and watch him with their lifeless eyes. Their rotting flesh. Pitchforks, shovels, and scythes in hand.

Mysterious bells continue to echo, drowning out his screams.

“Do you hear that?” Hoseok asks from beside you. The two of you are stationed a little away from the village, near a part of the woods that locals claim was one of the spots the dead have risen from. It’s foggy and creepy, and you’ve been eyeing the thicket and expect a horde of undead to stumble from beyond the trees.

But it’s been dead quiet.

Even as you hold your breath and stand perfectly still, you can’t hear anything.

“What is it?” you ask, your voice a whisper.

Hoseok glances over at you with a frown. “I hear the ringing of bells.”

The sound of footsteps crunching on leaves and twigs catch your attention. Seokjin calls out to you and Hoseok as he and Namjoon appear from the fog. “We need to regroup. Something is happening at the village.”

“What do you mean? Are they under attack?”

Neither of them answer you. The concern on both their faces only makes you worry more as you and Hoseok follow them toward the old windmill where the rest of your party is waiting. It’s a little closer to the heart of the village, and you can hear some commotion going on, like the villagers are in the throes of battle.

You spot Taehyung in his raven form, flying from the direction of the village and landing before you and Hoseok. When he transforms into his human form, he reports, “The recently deceased have risen, but they’re not the biggest problem.”

“Then who are they fighting?” Namjoon asks, eyebrows furrowing together.

Taehyung leans against Hoseok for support, bringing his palm against his forehead like he has a migraine. “They’re fighting each other.”

Silence follows the unsettling news.

Seokjin is the first to break it. “What the hell is going on?”

As if to answer him, you all hear it too.

The haunting, sonorous sound of bells in a nearby distance.

Hearing them sends a chill up your spine. And knowing that they’re beckoning death makes them even more terrifying.

“We need to get the bells,” Jungkook reminds you, turning away from the village to look you in the eye. “It’s the only way we can stop their madness.”

“We’ll have to be quick,” Namjoon agrees. “Or Hawthorn won’t make it to sunrise.”

There are seven necromantic bells. Each is more difficult to wield properly as their size and power increases. And, without proper care, the bells have a negative effect on the ringer that could backfire to certain death.

As you and the others approach the village, you hear the chime of the first bell.

It’s been a long day. Traveling the long roads to the village by carriage and on foot. Helping the residents prepare for the gruesome attacks tonight. Getting ready to face a powerful mage hiding somewhere nearby.

Sleep. The first bell sings. And you’re hit with a wave of drowsiness.

Yoongi catches you before you collapse on the ground. His eyes are tired, as if he hadn’t slept for days. In a slurred mumble, he commands, “Stay with me.”

The others aren’t faring any better. Long yawns and slow steps plague your group. Some of them look like they’re about to slump over and fall unconscious. You and the other mages ignore the lull of the bell and stay awake and alert. With tired eyes, you try to scan for the source of the sound and see a shadow slip into a building.

“There,” you point out, readying your wand. You follow after it with half your party close behind you. Seokjin stays behind with his guild, promising to catch up. Jungkook looks lethargic as he kicks open the entrance a few times before nearly tumbling inside.

A home abandoned is what you’re met with. The people living here seem to be gone, hurriedly leaving in the middle of making dinner. Flies swarm the rotting food, but it doesn’t look like anything else has been touched.

“Be careful,” Jackson warns, going further into the house. He uses his wand as a light, cautiously going from room to room to make sure the coast is clear.

It looks empty. But you know it isn’t.

You feel someone watching you all from the shadows.

When you turn to face the main room, your eyes widen when the figure emerges. Shrouded in tattered robes and carrying a bandolier of old bells is the necromancer. Deathly pale as a ghost, thin and bony like a skeleton, and decayed like the very creatures they summon. 

The necromancer — a truly Wicked creature — isn’t human at all. It’s a phantom.

It towers over you, face covered in darkness. In its hand is the second bell, which rings and beckons the dead with every step it takes toward you.

A burst of flames comes from your wand, aiming right at the necromancer’s face. Fire catches on its robes, but the necromancer seems unphased. Even as it’s burning alive.

Behind you, wooden boards split and break, and arms of the dead reach through the window to grab you. A startled scream escapes your lips when something does.

You’re pulled tightly to Namjoon’s chest as he leads you away from the doors and windows. He keeps a wand pointed at the necromancer as he holds you protectively. From your peripheral vision, you see Jackson, Hoseok, and the familiars trying to keep the horde out.

Distracted, you don’t notice the necromancer tucking the second bell away and taking out the third one from the pouch. With two hands, it rings the bell – up, down, left right – each toll causing different sounds from one bell, but they make a dancing tune that compels your legs to move on its own.

“Namjoon!” you gasp, trying to hold onto him. Mechanically, one foot marches over the other. Against your will, you leave his side. Neither Namjoon nor the other boys could stop you as their own feet seem planted in place, unable to move.

By its command, you spin around and start to slowly head straight toward the window, into the reaching arms of the undead. The boys call out to you, and you try to resist the magic. Every fiber of your being tries to hold you back from being torn apart by their greedy hands and mouths.

But your body won’t listen. You continue to march forward.

With all his willpower, Namjoon leans as far as he can and reaches toward you. His fingers grasp the back of your clothes and he yanks you backwards. You stumble a bit, but you reach back and cling onto him, anchoring yourself as he pulls you closer.

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, wrapping both of his arms around you.

Relief washes over your face, even as your legs continue to move on its own, you and Namjoon hold onto each other. With the wand still in your hand, you manage to point it at the necromancer and cast a spell of frost, just as it takes out two more bells.

The necromancer freezes. Icicles form around it for a few seconds before it shakes it away. Namjoon’s eyes widen when he realizes something.

Magic is very effective against the necromancer.

Just as he realizes this, the phantom necromancer starts to rapidly swing the bell in its left hand.

Whispers from beyond the grave seem to float around the room with the fourth bell, disembodied and ambiguous. The voices are in every direction, layered with the quick and steady rings. And Namjoon swears one of the voices is calling out to him.

His eyes look for who is calling him, and his gaze turns toward the crowd of undead by the window. Then, his eyes widen when he hears the chime of the fifth bell.

One of the skeletal remains starts to look familiar to him. The clothes are tattered and weathered, but the scraps of what’s left are the same from that day, slightly charged from when the hunters burned him. Flesh and muscle start to form around the skeleton, bringing back the teenage boy Namjoon once left behind.

Impossible.

Ignis, alive and well, is among the horde. His first friend since he’s become a mage.

“Namjoon,” Ignis calls out to him again. His voice is echoing and weak, but it’s still very much the same as he remembers.

Hoseok, and Jackson are looking in the same direction, stunned. Namjoon would’ve thought they’re also seeing Ignis until he hears the names they call out.

“Mina?”

“Adriel!”

A sense of confusion draws Namjoon out of the spell. He doesn’t see Adriel or Mina in the crowd, but he sees Ignis. Are you two seeing someone different?

Taehyung grabs both Hoseok and Jackson before they could step closer to the window. “Don’t. You’ll get hurt.”

Yoongi and Jungkook block the window as well, trying to keep you and Namjoon safe. He doesn’t realize it, but Namjoon’s grip loosens around you from the shock. The spell from the third bell still lingers, causing you to move away from him again, but Yoongi easily catches you this time.

“Is that—?” you begin to ask, but Yoongi shakes his head.

“It’s a trick,” he says as he tightens his hold around you. “Whoever you see isn’t there.”

Namjoon’s heart drops a little when he realizes the fourth and fifth bell must’ve brought back memories of a deceased loved one. An old friend to each of you that had passed on. Their voices. Their likeness.

“Hyung, you have to get the bells, Quickly,” Jungkook reminds him as he glares at the phantom necromancer. “Before it uses the seventh one. That’ll cause death to everyone who hears it.”

That means there’s only two more bells left, and the last one is deadly. If there’s a chance to stop the necromancer, it has to be now.

The necromancer tries another combination. It exchanges the fourth and fifth bell for the second and sixth ones. With the second, it’s able to summon the dead, beckoning them to come to it from beyond the grave. And with the sixth, it has complete control over them, binding them to its will. Within its shrouded face, its eyes begin to glow an eerie yellow the moment it wields the sixth bell.

Namjoon casts a bolt of lightning from his wand, but the necromancer vanishes before it hits. The bells ring somewhere that he can’t pinpoint, and he sees you and the others regain control of your bodies and try to look for the necromancer all over again.

“It couldn’t have gone far,” Namjoon reasons, scanning around. All of you are on high alert, wands ready to strike the moment the phantom necromancer appears.

Then, he hears the sound of wood breaking. More reinforcements join the previous herd and start to come inside. Namjoon completely loses sight of you and the others, using gusts of wind to blow the undead back and knocking them against walls and furniture. He calls out to you, but the disembodied groans, the stench of rotting flesh, and the sight of disfigured creatures keeps him from looking for you.

One of the creatures he comes to face is Ignis. Or at least, what looks like him.

“Stop. I don’t want to hurt you,” Namjoon says, pointing his wand at him. It feels like his Harrowing all over again. Being forced to face his biggest regret.

Ignis has his wand pointed at him as well. It’s a broken stick. The old, dirty clothes that he wears barely covers his chest and waist, but there’s a deep wound where the hunters have stabbed him through the heart. There are burn marks from when they had set him on fire.

Namjoon feels a burst of hot air as a fireball flies past him. He counters it with a water spell, dousing the flames before it hits him. The two elements collide as steam fills the room, causing Namjoon to lose sight of his old friend.

Sparks of lightning flash to his right, and he barely dodges an electrifying bolt. The attack hits a picture frame behind him, and the glass shatters as it falls on the floor. Wind sweeps up the broken glass and hurls it toward him, and Namjoon levitates the broken boards in front of him and uses them as a shield to protect himself.

Spells after spells become a dance between offensive and defensive attacks between Namjoon and Ignis. He can feel himself getting tired. The overuse of magic is causing his hands to blacken. He’s breathing heavier, and pain shoots from his arm when it got hit with a critical ice attack.

But Ignis is slowing down too. He’s proven to be an incredibly difficult opponent. But like Namjoon, Ignis is panting for breath and from the tips of his fingers down to his wrist is inky black of magic overuse. The wound on his chest expanded, bleeding heavily, yet he still stands. Stubbornly, he continues to point his wand at Namjoon, still wanting to fight.

However, Namjoon knows he needs to end it now.

While in battle, it seems like the others have taken care of the undead herd, but the necromancer’s whereabouts are still unknown. He can hear them shouting at him, but he doesn’t know what they’re saying. All he can focus on is the opponent before him.

Needing to end the fight, Namjoon tries a new spell.

Keeping his eye on Ignis, he slowly crouches and puts his hand on the ground. The earth moves beneath his fingertips, and covering the house are thick vines. They come from one side of the house, through the window, reaching across the floor and ceiling, and finally snagging Ignis. He seems surprised when they wrap around his wrist and disarms his wand, and around his ankles to immobilize him. 

The surprise turns to worry when one of the vines wraps around his neck.

Then, they begin to tighten.

Namjoon tries not to react as he watches his old friend die by his hand once again. He feels the sting of tears threaten his eyes as the wand falls on the ground and Ignis begins to choke.

As much as Namjoon wishes he could go back in time and undo his old friend’s death, as much as he’d like to think this is the real Ignis and not some undead creature wearing his skin, he knows his friend is long gone.

He points his wand at Ignis, the tip of it heating with a fire spell.

But before it’s cast, Namjoon is knocked to the ground. As he comes to his senses, he realizes three horrifying things.

First, the phantom necromancer had been there the whole time. It’s been ringing the bells, conducting them like a puppeteer. And Namjoon is its puppet with strings.

Second, it isn’t just Namjoon that was being controlled by the bells. His party has been immobilized, forced to watch as Namjoon fights Ignis. But Jackson – who was standing closest to the phantom – manages to break from the spellbound restraints, covering his ears to block the sound. Out of willpower and determination, he puts one foot over the other to sneak up on the necromancer. Until, finally, he yanks the hoister of bells before the necromancer has a chance to grab the seventh and deadliest one.

Third, the moment that the necromancer is no longer in control, Yoongi lunges at Namjoon with his hand curled into a fist. Jungkook manages to grab Yoongi’s waist, but they both topple over and knock into Namjoon. The three of them are on the ground, and Namjoon realizes that Hoseok and Taehyung are yelling at him too, but their voices are where Ignis is.

Or what he thought was Ignis.

It isn’t an undead creature caught in the vines of his spell.

It’s you. This whole time, it’s been you.

“Let her go, Namjoon!” Hoseok screams, trying to yank the vines away from you. Every time he pulls one away, another takes its place. They start to tangle around him and Taehyung as well. He can feel it grabbing his ankles and see it wrap around Taehyung’s hand as he tugs on the one around your neck.

Fuck, he doesn’t even know if you’re even breathing. Your body looks lifeless as they continue to constrict your chest and your neck.

Taehyung curses and tries to shake off the vine that’s spreading up his arm and toward his neck. Hoseok’s mind is spinning, wanting to use a fire attack to burn the vines, but afraid that it’ll hurt you and Taehyung. And Namjoon is still dazed from the effects of the bells.

Seokjin finally catches up after helping the surviving villagers. His eyes widen when he sees what’s happening and immediately rushes to you with his sword at hand.

“Hyung!” Taehyung exclaims as Seokjin carefully cuts the vines to free the three of you. Hoseok immediately catches you, and to his relief, you’re still alive. You’re still breathing, but barely.

“Is she okay?” Seokjin asks, his hand still around his sword. The Oathkeepers have jumped into battle with Jackson, trying to take the necromancer down with standard magic spells now that the bells are not with it.

“She’ll be fine,” Hoseok says as he sees Yoongi rush toward you. He hands you off to him. “Watch over her, hyung. We have to help Jackson.”

Yoongi merely nods. His hands are trembling a little as he holds you in his arms, taking you somewhere safe from the fight.

Namjoon finally snaps out of it when he sees Yoongi passing by. He catches a glimpse of you too, but Jungkook shakes his shoulder and urges, “Hyung, come on, let’s go. They need us.”

Slowly, Namjoon stands and his eyes narrow at the necromancer. The spells are aggressive as it targets Jackson, trying to get its bells back. The Oathkeepers surround him, protecting him as they use their weapons against the powerful mage.

“Push it toward the vines,” Namjoon instructs, and they do. Each swing of an attack that the Oathkeepers land, and each spell cast from Hoseok and Jackson causes the necromancer to step closer and closer to the vines where you were.

One of the vines manages to snag the necromancer’s ankle. Another starts to wrap around its arm. Everyone watches as a being associated with death struggles to free itself from the plants that are full of life. But that only tangles it up even more, constricting it until it can’t move at all.

Then, Namjoon stands before the necromancer. He still has a bit of magic in him, and with it, he unleashes a small fire. Just like he had accidentally casted all those years ago, when he first awakened his power.

This time, it’s with purpose as the flames engulf and destroy everything before him.

There’s an unnerving feeling that settles throughout the remains of Hawthorn Village.

All night, the Oathkeepers gathered everyone they could find and brought them to the church. They figured it would be easier to protect everyone if they’re all in one place.

Priestess and the faithful Devoted clasps their hands so tightly in prayer, their knuckles turn white. Mothers hold their young children close, comforting them as best as they can. Men guarding the inside of the chapel anxiously pace with their hands hovering over their weapons, anticipating that they’d be the last line of defense if your party fails to stop the necromancer.

It’s been a long night.

The fighting and shouting beyond the church door lasts for hours.

But beyond the horizon, there’s a silver lining of hope. Dawn breaks, and a new day begins. As the sun rises, so does their salvation.

Word spreads of what you and the others have done. How you all saved the village. How Namjoon defeated the awful creature that’s been terrorizing them.

“Didn’t you have a son named Namjoon?” one of the villagers asks, but Namjoon’s father shakes his head and denies it. There’s a frown on the old man’s face as others have gathered to talk about the news.

It’s finally over. Their village is saved. They’ve survived those perilous nights. And it’s all thanks to the guild that came to help them.

Stepping outside, the morning light greets them. Fighters return to embrace their loved ones after the long battle. Children cheer with joy for their heroes, and tears are shed from relief between reunited families and partners.

Among the fighters, there’s Namjoon and his group.

One of the boys – the one with a slender build and a sharp face – has you on his back. The others are worn and exhausted, but seem okay from the distance as they help support each other back to the village. And Namjoon, with two of his comrades holding him up, keeps trying to disregard his own injuries as he worries about yours.

The concern on his face, the remorse and sorrow in his expression – it’s just like when he was a kid on that fateful day.

“How do you reckon they did it?” another villager asks him, looking at the direction that Namjoon’s father is staring at. It would be easy to reveal the truth. That Wicked mages are among them, and the entire village would be full of distrust and anger toward them.

“Who knows?” the old man says instead, and turns away from the group with a frown.

Magic may have gotten them in this mess, but in an ironic twist of fate, magic is what saved them.

For the first time in days, Hawthorn Village is promised a good night.

The mayor and the surviving villagers hold a small ceremony to honor the deceased and to hail your party as heroes. It will take time for their tiny village to recover. Even with the threat of the necromancer gone, there’s still fear of the night and what it could behold. But the mayor is confident that they can rebuild.

You’re then taken to Hawthorn’s inn to recover. Luckily, no one else is severely injured, but you and Namjoon have the worst of it.

Hours pass, and you’ve yet to open your eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” Hoseok reminds him, wrapping a cloth bandage around Namjoon’s arm. “That necromancer made you guys attack each other.”

It doesn’t make Namjoon feel any better.

“I nearly killed her,” he laments. At Blackstone Castle, Hoseok once swore that if Namjoon ever hurts you, he’d kill him. Truly, this warrants his friends to turn against him like others have done before.

But somehow, they don’t.

Hoseok finishes up and examines his work. “To be fair, she did a number on you too.”

Namjoon is told to rest, but he can’t bring himself to let his guard down. He keeps thinking there must be a catch. That, perhaps, the others are still angry with him and are starting to resent him.

“Namjoon-ah, come eat,” Seokjin calls out for him, gesturing for the mage to sit at the table. He serves him a bowl of stew the innkeeper made. “Be careful. It’s still hot.”

“Hyung, are you healing okay?” Jungkook asks again – probably for the fourth time that hour alone. He frowns at the bandages Hoseok put on him, and there’s genuine concern in his big, doe-shaped eyes. “If you need anything, let me know. Got it?”

“Be careful, hyung. You don’t want to hurt yourself again,” Taehyung scolds when Namjoon nearly bumps into something. It’s the closest any of them have been stern with him all day, yet Taehyung frets over him like he does with you and the others.

Even Yoongi strikes up a casual conversation with him, flipping through a book of Devoted scriptures he’s found. “What is this garbage they’ve been teaching you?”

Namjoon frowns. “Hyung, what are you doing?”

“There’s nothing else to read,” he states with a scowl.

“I mean, why aren’t you angry at me?” Namjoon asks, his heart still full of guilt. You mean so much to all of them, and what he did is unforgivable.

“You didn’t mean to hurt her,” Yoongi simply replies.

“But I did it,” Namjoon protests, feeling a bit frustrated. He doesn’t get it. “Why are you all so nice to me after what I’ve done? Why don’t you hate me?”

Isn’t this how it always goes? Why is it so different this time?

“You’re family to us, Namjoon,” Yoongi tells him. “We could never hate you.”

Namjoon wants to believe that, but he doesn’t feel like he deserves to. Not after what he did to you.

Whenever he feels overwhelmed and stressed, Namjoon likes to run to clear his mind. Usually, it’s along the river near New Haven, where he can relax beneath the shade of a tree he liked afterwards. But as he lets his feet take him somewhere, he finds himself by the Hawthorn Lake.

Most of the villagers have gathered here as the late afternoon sun colors the skies with reds and oranges of twilight. To honor and mourn the lives that were lost the past few nights, they’ve decided to hold a small ceremony for them. And standing a short distance from them is a familiar face.

“Where’ve you been?” Namjoon asks, walking up to him.

Jackson is quiet as he watches them. The villagers pray and hug each other, and some sing hymns and play instruments by the shore. Paper lanterns are lit and sent off into the water, representing both hope and remembrance, as well as grief and loss. With the setting sun hitting the water’s surface, it matches the small flames being carried across the lake.

It’s a beautiful ceremony.

“I wish we could’ve done something like this,” Jackson quietly confides without looking at Namjoon. “For Adriel, Mina, and everyone else we lost at Blackstone.”

“We still can,” Namjoon tells him, facing the lake as well. It might be difficult now, but maybe when things settle down with the hunters, they could go back to the lake by the castle and hold a memorial for them one day.

Silence passes as the sun continues to sink. For once, it’s a peaceful evening. And the somber songs start to turn to ones of celebration as a relief washes over them. Tonight, they no longer need to fear the dark.

“You know, I wanted to take up this mission so I could bring them back,” Jackson confesses. “Adriel sacrificed himself to give us our freedom. I’ve been trying to enjoy the gift he gave us, but it isn’t fair that he’s dead while I get to live outside the prison he desperately wanted to escape from.”

Namjoon frowns. “Necromancy is dark magic, Jackson. What if it backfired?”

“I didn’t care. I would’ve used whatever they had to bring them back: bells, tomes, ritual circles,” Jackson lists as he looks at the stash of bells he’s been carrying with him. “Whatever it took. Wouldn’t you want to do the same for that old friend you told us about? The one you saw during the fight?”

Ignis.

Immediately, Namjoon thinks of how the bells convinced him that his old friend had come back. How it took his shape and form, and how it used his voice.

“If I did, he wouldn’t have been the same.” He’d probably be no different from any of the other undead they saw last night. A shell of a human with its spirit gone. A mere illusion of what he once was.

“I probably wouldn’t have been the same either. Had I tried, I would’ve lost a sense of who I am and become a monster like that necromancer phantom,” Jackson concludes with a frown. “That thing we fought… it wasn’t human. It was truly Wicked.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees. The necromancer felt like it had lost its humanity a very long time ago, and now just wanders into towns and villages to torment and cause chaos.

“Here.” Jackson holds out the bells to Namjoon. “Make sure to destroy them.”

Namjoon takes it, and he can feel the weight of its power in his hand. “What’s your plan now?”

“Don’t know yet. But I’ll figure it out,” Jackson replies with a small shrug. “I might stay here for a bit and help them rebuild. The guys at the pub really liked me.” 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep.

For a while, you drift in and out of consciousness. You feel the warmth of Hoseok’s healing magic before he applies an ointment to your wound. You hear the sweet tune of Jungkook’s song as he sings to you. You feel Taehyung brush the hair away from your face and press his lips against your knuckles. You hear Seokjin bargain with you – a kiss from your handsomest boyfriend if you open your eyes. When you do, you see Yoongi sleeping on a chair nearby, and you’re certain he hasn’t left your side since you were brought here.

But you don’t see or hear from Namjoon. You force yourself to sit up as the memories of last night come back to you.

In all the years you’ve known Namjoon, he’s always been a strong person. He has thick skin and a level head, and is eloquent and witty with his words. He shoulders a lot of the hard work so you and the others don’t have to. Whenever you need advice, comfort, or someone to rely on, he’s always the first person that comes to mind.

But Namjoon is also human. He can’t always be strong.

And while the details of the fight are still a bit foggy to you, there’s one thing that haunts your mind. The absolute horror on his face when Namjoon finally realizes it’s you he was attacking.

Yoongi stirs when he senses you’re awake. “Where are you going?”

Caught halfway to the door, you stop mid-step and ask, “Yoongi, have you seen—”

Just then, the door opens. Jungkook blinks in surprise when he sees you out of bed. “Oh? You’re awake?”

The others start to crowd in when they hear you’re up. You’re met with relieved sighs, lingering touches, and questions about how you’re feeling from all of them. But as you look around, you notice someone is missing.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

The boys look at each other, exchanging glances as if they don’t know what to tell you. Then, Jungkook speaks up. “He went to get some fresh air. He feels really bad about what happened.”

“I should talk to him,” you decide, determined to find him. You want to look for him anyway. “Do you know where he went?”

Soon, all of you are outside the inn. It’s incredibly empty by the square, and you learn that it’s because most of the villagers have gathered by the nearby lake. From what you’ve heard, it seems Jackson and Namjoon heeded over there as well.

“You’re the girl that was with that boy, aren’t you?”

For a second, you almost didn’t realize someone was talking to you. Then, you turn to see a familiar face. A woman that looked at you with terror and coldly slammed her door at your face yesterday. Namjoon’s mother.

“I am,” you answer, honest but a bit guarded. Now that you have a good look at her, you can see how much Namjoon takes after her appearance. He has the same high cheekbones, the same shape of her eyes, and the same deep dimples in his smile. She stares at you as well, but she doesn’t say a word. Self-conscious, you ask, “Is… Is something wrong?”

She blinks and shakes her head. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to stare.”

You don’t sense any hostility from her this time. Rather, you feel like she’s genuinely curious about you. Perhaps, after the battle and hearing people talk, she had a change of heart about her son.

“That’s all right. I must look terrible.” 

You laugh awkwardly, trying to dust off any dirt from your clothes and fix your hair. Magic helps make you look presentable enough to go out, but you’re still exhausted from fighting all night. Your spells are still weak from overuse, your current clothes are battle-worn, and you’re in a dire need of a bath.

“Actually, you’re quite beautiful,” she quietly admits, and you’re taken aback by the compliment. She looks away from you. There’s a sadness in her eyes as she asks, “How do you know him?”

She doesn’t need to name him for you to know who she’s talking about.

“We’re…” Friends? Lovers? Housemates? Family? “Together. He’s my partner.”

She still doesn’t look at you, but you can see the frown form upon her lips. “And you know what he is?”

“That he’s a mage? Of course I do.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

You blink at her, confused. “Why would it bother me?”

Her gaze lifts to meet yours, and she stares at you for a long time. It begins to occur to you that, although she knows that Namjoon is a mage, she doesn’t know that you’re one as well. To her, it seems outlandish that a human would willingly love a mage.

“He’s a monster. At least, I believed so,” she finally tells you. “I blamed him for ruining our lives. Don’t you know how shameful it is to have a child cursed with magic? The whole village shunned us for years.”

“Perhaps that’s a problem with your village’s beliefs and not your son,” you retort with a scowl. “His affinity to magic isn’t the only thing that defines him. He’s a good man with a kind heart, and while he’s many things, a monster is far from it.”

Remorse flickers on her face. “Forgive me. It seems you care an awful lot about him.”

“Of course I do,” you tell her so earnestly. “Whether he’s a mage or not, he’s still Namjoon. And I love him.”

Again, his mother stares in silence. She seems baffled, and, perhaps, a bit guilty. For a moment, she hesitates, and just when you’re about to walk away, she asks, “And… is he happy?”

You glance back at his mother. “You can always ask him yourself.”

“No, no. It’s too late for that now. It’s better that he doesn’t know I talked to you,” she backtracks, but there’s a small hint of relief to know what’s become of her son after all these years. “Thank you for indulging an old, shameful woman. I’m glad that he has someone like you who loves him for all he is.”

Night has fallen over the village of Hawthorn. But for once, it’s met with laughter and festivities of celebration. Jackson spots his new friends from the pub and introduces them to him. A guy named Mark invites them both for a drink and to hang out as the lantern ceremony continues.

The moon shines brightly as its light reflects against the lake’s surface, and the glow from paper lanterns being carried across the water is a breathtaking sight.

“Namjoon.”

But despite all the people and festivities around, all you see is him.

Namjoon leaves Jackson and the others and sprints toward you, but stops himself before he gets too close. His hand reaches out to touch you out of habit, but he holds it back. He swallows the fear and hesitation building within him before he plasters a nervous smile. “Hey, baby.”

You look him over, not saying anything at first. Your eyes seem fixed on the bandages he has around his arm. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

His smile fades. A short chuckle of disbelief escapes his lips. “How is that the first thing you ask me when I’m the one that hurt you?”

“You didn’t know.”

“I could’ve killed you!” His voice raises, causing a couple passing by to look at you two. He steps a little closer and frowns. “I’m sorry, baby. I swore to myself that I’d always protect you, and I put you in danger. I don’t ever want to put you in that situation again.”

“Namjoon…”

“So, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

You seem to know where this is going. He could see the shakiness in your breath and the way your eyes water. “Namjoon, stop…”

“I think it’s better that I stay here at Hawthorn.”

This decision didn’t come easy. But after hearing that Jackson planned to stick around, he figured he’d stay with him. Help the villagers rebuild. Reconnect with old friends and maybe even his parents. Make this place feel like home again.

It seems like a reasonable idea, but the hardest part is leaving you, the family you brought together, and the shop that became your home. As Namjoon stands before you, he knows he doesn’t deserve any of them. Not you, not the others, not the shop.

“You don’t mean that.” You’re crying now, and even as you wipe your tears, you can’t bring yourself to stop.

In all the years Namjoon has known you, you’ve always been a strong person. You carry an admirable confidence when it comes to your magic. You’re as kind as you are protective of the people you care about. You’re capable of handling yourself when faced with difficult situations.

Before he realizes it, he reaches out to you again. His hand cups your face and his thumb gently strokes your cheek, wiping your tears away. “I’m so scared of hurting you again.”

“And I’m scared to lose you.”

But you’re also human. There are times when you’re not always strong.

It dawns on him that you, like him, are terrified that your magic has hurt him. That you think the reason he wants to stay at Hawthorn is because you attacked him.

“You’ll never lose me,” Namjoon promises. Because he knows, even if you’re far apart, he’ll always think about you. In his dreams, in his thoughts. You’ve already claimed every part of him like a fire. “I love you.”

“Then don’t stay here,” you tell him. “Come home. With me.”

And it strikes Namjoon that this is what he’s been searching for his whole life. All the times he’s tried to return to his family, and all his efforts to understand his magic were to get what you’ve given him all along. Acceptance, trust, love. 

Namjoon nods his head, swallowing back his own tears. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, smiling with relief. And on that beautiful night, with the moon shining brightly and the paper lanterns glowing in the water, he kisses you.

Hawthorn is just as Namjoon remembers it.

The small, farming village with a tight-knit community. Every morning, the villagers rise at the crack of dawn, tending to their animals and crops, fishing by the nearby lake, and selling their produce at the marketplace. His parents still live here, and so do many of his childhood friends and their families. And when he looks around, he sees the familiar buildings of the old windmill, the local church, and homes made of thatch roofs and mud and stone walls.

Even when he was forced away, he couldn’t imagine anywhere else could be his home.

Years later, after finally returning to the village, Namjoon realizes he couldn’t be any more wrong. He had once thought – while trapped in a tiny room in Alterwood Keep – if he ever made it back here, he’d never want to leave. That this place was his village. This place was and will always be his home.

“Ready?” Hoseok asks, looking at you, Namjoon, and Jackson. The three of you nod as all wands are drawn over the necromancer bells.

With the power of four mages, the powers are sealed away and their tempting call to beckon the dead is nearly silenced. They look like ordinary bells, but should anyone try to ring them now, it’d be muffled and mute. Its effect is significantly weak with the magical seal intact, and the bandolier of bells tucked away in Jungkook’s pack.

“Let’s get out of here,” Seokjin decides once the spell is done. His hand slips around your waist protectively, weary eyes double-checking that none of the villagers have seen you guys use magic.

“It was nice seeing you guys again, man,” Jackson says, hand clasping Hoseok before he pulls him into a quick hug. He does the same to Namjoon and adds, “I’m glad you changed your mind. It doesn’t feel right to separate you all for some reason.”

Namjoon smiles a little at that. “Feel free to stop by at the shop anytime, Jackson.”

“I’ll know where to find you.” There’s promise in his voice that he’ll keep in touch.

Your party heads out of the village, receiving final thanks from the mayor and some of the other villagers for your help. Namjoon pauses when he sees his parents among them. His father merely nods at him and says, “Take care of yourself, Namjoon.”

“Thanks. You too,” he replies, a bit stunned. His parents leave it at that, shuffling away as Hoseok calls for him not to fall behind, but for Namjoon, that is more than enough.

When he catches up to you, you’re at the bridge that enters the village. He pauses and takes one more look around at the old windmill, village, and the farmlands. It really hasn’t changed that much since he was a child.

But Hawthorn no longer feels like home to him.

“Ready?” you ask, offering your hand to hold.

Around you, the others state how they’re looking forward to going back to New Haven. Yoongi complains that he needs a bath and a long nap. Jungkook wrinkles his nose at his muddy pants and mutters how he’s eager to start his meticulous laundry routine. Hoseok and Taehyung invite the Oathkeepers for food and drinks at the shop once you’re all back, and Seokjin complains how he’ll end up doing the majority of cooking.

Namjoon smiles fondly as he watches you all. Then, he nods and takes your hand.

These days, home to him is a small, ordinary, and unassuming shop in a bustling trading town. It’s a building that’s much bigger and more extraordinary on the inside than it is on the outside, with a tavern, a parlor, a mysterious door by the entrance that fulfills a person’s greatest desires, and bedrooms on the upper-floor curated to their residents’ tastes and styles.

Lately, home is waking up to bread baking and coffee brewing when Seokjin and Hoseok wake up early to start the day. It’s afternoons when he’s reading a book and listening to Yoongi playing the piano in the parlor, or Taehyung and Jungkook giggling as they play games with each other. Home is evenings when Jimin stops by with a bouquet of flowers for you, and all eight of you are gathered together for dinner as the weariness of the day melts away in each other’s presence.

To him, home is picnics by the river with you, basking beneath the sunlight of a gorgeous day. Home is debating what fruit is the best at the marketplace, and ending up taking home both of your favorites anyway. It’s childishly teasing each other with pranks and mischievous spells, and then finding ways to be in each other’s arms by the end of the day.

Home is with you.

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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[drakaripykiros130ac]

It seems to me that the Hightowers are the spitting image of many politicians today, and that’s most likely why a lot of people can’t stand them.

They lie, conspire, cheat, look only after their own interests, claim to care about their people but their actions speak otherwise. They’re opportunists and always seek to take more and give little to no attention to other people’s needs. They resemble the Lannisters a whole lot.

There’s a reason why the Targaryens and the Starks have the biggest fanbases in the ASOIAF world.

The Starks are obviously the most decent people you could ask for in a world like this one. They are moral, kind, loyal and honorable oathkeepers. They are too good to be true, and perhaps also too good for that world. If there is one family that deserved to have a somewhat happy ending, it’s the Starks.

The Targaryens, although they had their fair share of bad apples throughout their dynasty, have a lot of qualities which fans admire. They are pretty heroic. They are passionate, resilient, brave, ambitious (in the good sense), intelligent and what I love most: they take pride in their Valyrian culture and history. They also have a sense of honor towards their ancestors and their House. With dragons in their possession, they are the symbol of power in the ASOIAF world.

Basically, the Starks and the Targaryens are the heroic types of families which most fans admire and the exact opposite of the scheming and villainous Hightowers/Lannisters.

[docholligay]

Do you think having such a personalized and detailed headcanon makes it harder to enjoy fic about the show/game that's written by others?

I mean sure, probably.

But unfortunately things I adore, for people named Doc who are me, fall into one of two buckets:

The character work and plot in this show are incredible, I find myself turning it around in my mind like a rotisserie chicken. I constantly discover new things about the show/book/game or the characters in it. I do not read fic about this, because why would I? Every answer I search for is in the text. I want to talk about this with someone, but about what is THERE, not what could be there. Ex: The Haunting of Hill House, Picnic at Hanging Rock, Piranesi, Bioshock:Infinite, Watership Down, Yellowjackets, among others.

The concepts of this could be amazing but are handled so fucking badly so consistently, in a shocking contrast to how INCONSISTENT the character work is, that all I want to do is steal it and make it better. All i want to do is turn it into something that doesn't suck ass when you look at it too hard. So I am going to take it SO seriously, and I am going to develop the rich inner lives for these characters that they lack, with intense backstories and families and motivation for how they got to be the person we know, or know sometimes, in certain episodes or shorts. Ex: Sailor Moon and Overwatch are the biggies here obviously, this is actually not an emotion I feel very often. I don't have intense backstories and extra-textual feelings and ideas about most of the stuff I read and watch, these two are just my Spiders Georg.

So! The odds on me being into something in the correct way to make me want to Seek Treasure Elsewhere but also I have a chill enough attitude about how the characters are that Any Dream Will Do is almost nil. I do not in ANY way mean this in a shady way, but I mostly read published adult fiction for entertainment and not fanfic. I am very picky about my fanfic. So, "plus these two new red and blue girls into Starbucks" often won't work for me, because the reasons to have Haruka and Michiru meet in a coffee shop are completely different from any of the reasons Fareeha and Angela might meet in a coffee shop, and so many of those types are archtypical plug and play stuff. Honestly, I have skated the idea of making a cheat sheet of fanon archetypes of various characters and buying a typewriter to sell 100-200 word 'quick fic' at cons with my sister. That's how common it is to use these archetypes. This is not a criticism! At all!

But, to take the two couples above, I have read so much BORING SHIT about both HM and FA that I could throw up. Lesbian couples have a lot of very milquetoast writing about them, and a lot of meet-cute which isn't really my bag.

But there are authors I love! @oathkeeper-of-tarth was and is one of the best harumichi writers out there and we don't even have all the same headcanons. The rare occasions @verbforverb decides to grace me with "Jewish Mercy I don't Have To Write" I pop a can of bubbly in the tub. And on both fields of battle @keyofjetwolf has stuff I've had bookmarked for years, and there are some things even within Rei's backstory and history that we disagree on.

Actually, to that point what I like is good writing. You can write me into believing nearly anything. There are things I believe about Amelie when I'm reading @lemon-embalmer's stuff that when I go back to my own world, aren't true, but when I'm in her world who the fuck cares, I'm having a great time. EVEN MORE to the point, I read @moonlight-frittata's stupid sun and moon lesbian League of Legends shit and I would rather shoot myslef than know ANYTHING about the game, but unfortunately she has a beautiful turn of phrase and plot flow to her work that I just....read anyway, because it is good. Fucking @tallangrycockatiel had me like 25 pages or so into a story before I was like, "OH SHIT, IS THIS SLASH??? WAIT I DON'T WANT TO READ ABOUT BOYS' LOVE!! NO!!" *hits next page* And I still could not care less about that podcast and would never listen to it, and if I did I would be massively disappointed because to my mind, her John and Arthur are the actual article, and whatever the fuck is going on in the source material can eat my dick.

So, yes, I DO think that having a very particular point of view is going to mean I back out of a story where like, "Lena stepped out of her Chelsea flat, custom leather high heels clicking against the step" sometimes, or, you know, "Haruka put down her copy of War and Peace, each meticulous note codified by a color-coded tab. Blue was for historical references to research, green for character analysis, yellow for themes, blah blah blah*" But I am actually shockingly open minded in what I will read, often to the point that I'm reading stuff from SHIT I DO NOT LIKE OR CARE ABOUT, because the quality of the writing is excellent. So, also no.

*I met someone who read books like this and I suddenly realized what the literary equivalent of 'knowing someone is a serial killer' was.

[agentrouka-blog]

what do we think is going to happen to the remains of Ice? Will they let Brienne keep her half? Are we going to see Arya physically tackle Jaime Lannister to take back the other half?

Hi there!

Jaime doesn't carry Widow's Wail, so it's still in King's Landing, fate undetermined. It may well go down with the city when it burns.

I don't think Ice will be reforged and I can't think of a better use for the steel than Oathkeeper in Brienne's hands. Ice was a sword that House Stark has been using for only a few centuries. It's a fancy prestigious heirloom and a quality blade but it's not an irreplacible marker of Stark identity. Plus, it's been pretty sullied by unjust executions, both at Ned's hand and against Ned.

My suspicion is that if there is to be a new Fancy Family Heirloom, it may be Longclaw. (A return to House Mormont is unlikely, given Jeor took it to the Watch with him and then gave it straight up away to Jon Snow, new pommel and all.)

Ice has found a new purpose, and now begins the era of the bastard blade.

[ilynpilled]

i know people mostly take note of jaime being associated with the warrior & the maiden because of the whole huge gender extravaganza that is going on with j/c/b but i love how he also seems to be strongly connected to the stranger throughout the text. other than all this, he has the death motif (death of the boy, scythe sword chops hand/rebirth, aerys, ilyn the executioner, the bear, stoneheart, cersei, hooded figures in his dreams, the ghosts etc) along with the dance with death thing. when he refers to himself as “a stranger in my own house,” in the next few chapters he gifts oathkeeper to brienne and aids her in working against his family’s interests, the major color symbolism shift starts: crimson/gold vs white, and frees tyrion which leads to the death of his father and the head of his house (he told the corpse. “The blood on his hands as much as… Tyrion’s.” The blood on his hands as much as mine, he meant to say.) and i think we can all guess what else is coming when it concerns jaime embodying the stranger in the future. i like that cersei “all the time was the stranger” to jaime, and he comes to that epiphany and continues diverging from her, and he “has become” it for cersei, but she is not aware of it, like she doesn’t think he means her death. and i am sure it is meant to be loaded that the character who is the primary deconstruction of knighthood/the kingsguard in the series also embodies the stranger (he certainly fulfills the role of executioner & judgement in some form, and i do like these layers when it comes to the medieval narrative of “it is ‘god’ who shall judge tyrants, not anyone else” which can also serve as a tool for class stratification, and avoiding the precedent of sovereignty being challenged. it is touched on in different ways in the text) but i dont have my thoughts together enough about this lol. we do know george is an agnostic:

"I suppose l'm a lapsed Catholic. You would consider me an atheist or agnostic. I find religion and spirituality fascinating. I would like to believe this isn't the end and there's something more, but I can't convince the rational part of me that that makes any sense whatsoever. [...] And as for the gods, l've never been satisfied by any of the answers that are given. If there really is a benevolent loving god, why is the world full of rape and torture? Why do we even have pain?”

his view is verbatim jaime’s argument: “If there are gods, why is the world so full of pain and injustice?” and the whole conversation parallels brienne’s statement: “Jaime Lannister murdered the rightful king […] Where were the gods then? The gods don’t care about men…”

but george is absolutely not a nihilist in any way, so i think much of it is about placing human agency at the center of all this, and it is some kind of discussion when it comes to karmic or divine intervention. he is half a corpse too. a man is a man, not god. and a man is “whatever he chose.” it is man who acts, not gods.

[tidetower]

What’s the reason behind ‘tidetower’ as in like the ship name for addaeron?

It’s just a symbolic variation of a ship name. (Eg. jonerys has snowstorm/braime has oathkeeper/daemyra has rogue’s delights/etc). So for addaeron, something like tidetower fits.

Daeron is, in a literary sense, a character who has a tower motif. He’s positioned as a lone figure who seems to stand apart from his family. Towers, especially ones that are lighthouses, are often seen as lonely structures in the middle of a landscape. The Hightower is a functioning lighthouse. Towers are also used to provide a vantage point that one can use to observe and watch out for danger. Daeron’s role in the war was to be a scout.

Flying Tessarion ahead of the main column, Prince Daeron had proved invaluable as a scout, warning Lord Ormund of enemy movements. Oft as not, the queen’s men would melt away at the first glimpse of the Blue Queen’s wings.

In general, quotes about towers fit Daeron really well because of the role he plays in the story. His actions at Bitterbridge can be viewed as fitting this other tower quote because of how Daeron is positioned as both avenging an injustice done and yet creating harm to others all the same.

Literally speaking, he lives in a tower. Daeron cannot simply leave and return to his family in King’s Landing because he is a dutiful son. So he must remain in his tower (he is a dragon in a tower!). When he does finally leave his tower, it is to fight for the Greens.

Addam has a level of freedom that being a sailor gives him. Since he is the bastard child of a nobleman, and his true identity was kept hidden for so long, I think it’s safe to say Addam spent a great deal of time at sea and not at home (where he might’ve risked being recognized as looking too much like a Velaryon).

Soon proved to have “sea salt in their blood” as well, growing up in their grandsire’s shipyard and going to sea as ship’s boys before the age of eight. […] Marilda of Hull owned seven ships, and her bastard sons were always serving on one or the other.

The sea is often associated with freedom (as a contrast to towers which represent captivity). The rising and falling of the sea is known as a tide, which in a metaphorical sense, shows a change or renewal. This is a perfect description for someone like Addam (Addam of Hull -> Addam Velaryon). Addam is a character who has a great rise to power as his family’s heir (the family seat is even called High Tide) and yet he still falls into disgrace when he gets condemned as a traitor. So the flow of his character arc is well represented by the tide.

Just like Daeron, Addam also has a duty to fulfill. In Addam’s case, it is as the new heir to High Tide and that’s not something he can simply abandon. Even if it means he has to fight for the Blacks against Daeron.

Another connection between their symbolism is that Addam and Daeron couldn’t have met unless Daeron was at separation from his family by being sent away to Oldtown (tower). Addam and Daeron wouldn’t have been on opposite sides of the war if Addam wasn’t seeking that connection & validation from his own family by becoming the heir to Driftmark (tide).

Also, a lighthouse watchtower might seem like a lonely structure but it does always have the flowing sea for company. 🤭 Another way to view this is that Addam would be coming to Oldtown just for Daeron and leaving in order to return back to his family (like the flooding and ebbing of the tide). 😔

[tinkkles]

huffing sjur copium like it's my goddamn job. Mindless musing around her death

The nine left a strange coin as 'weregild' i.e. apologetic compensation for the dead's family. Implying they were somehow responsible

Huginn & Muninn were present when she died, and were also killed at the scene (oathkeeper lore).

It now seems like sjur had been sent to kill them due to the ahamkara hunt being called (lethophobia lore)

Sjur did not want to kill them and they were her friends. The "unless-" is killing me.

Sjur felt betrayed in the wish-ender lore (or possibly, felt that she had betrayed someone? Maybe huginn & muninn idk what the implications are here??)

As she died sjur swore an oath to rise again revelation righteous fury etc SHE SWORE AN OATH SHE WAS FULL OF DESIRE TO RISE AGAIN IN THE PRESENCE OF TWO AHAMKARA WHO WERE HER FRIENDS AGH

God I wish I knew what any of this meant. Insane to include new details about her death now unless it means something. On top of the sleepless prophecy pyramid from the witch queen ce. I'm normal about all of this

[4ggravation]

for ask game: Cynari (did I spell that right/can you understand what I'm asking?)

ah yes, the ship that ruined my life. (also you spelled it right, dw!) i'll try to keep this short.

what made you ship it?

i think my initial affection towards them started with the sumeru archon quest + cyno's voice actor being their number 1 shipper on deck for a time. then, i came up with the t4t headcanon, started writing fics for them and thinking more about their relationship, and things just exploded from there.

as for the "what", a lot of it was their domesticity. how genuinely kind and supportive they are of each other. how tighnari responded to cyno's call during the archon quest without hesitation. not to mention how that dynamic was further built upon in apop + windblume. they're just very... pure. and i hate using that word because everyone else says that about them and they mean it in the Wrong Way, but that's the truth. cyno and tighnari are just best friends.

2. what are your favorite things about the ship?

okay beyond what i described above, i love how intrinsic they are to each other. their matching design motifs, how they continuously influence each other's behavior, cyno mentioning tighnari basically every time he can and tighnari acting similarly (albeit to a lesser degree), and all of that coming to a climax in oathkeeper where it's revealed that this was how they were meant to be from the start and that it was practically fate. i consider oathkeeper to be the peak of their dynamic for this exact reason.

oh, also cyno being endlessly, endearingly annoying to tighnari. i live for that shit.

3. is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

people really feel desperate to fit cynari into a heteronormative mold, especially with feminizing tighnari and making cynari and collei into some kind of nuclear family when they're the furthest thing from that dynamic in reality. i'm sick of people sanding off their edges to fit them into some wholesome uwu husbands box when there's so much to explore on the contrary. also the obligatory Please Make Them Hornier I Can't Keep Living Like This.

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

I saw someone say once that Sansa was more like Ned and Arya more like Catelyn personality wise. Whats your opinion on that comparison? Is it accurate?

I don't really agree with it.

Arya's most important parallel to the previous generation is that she shares with her aunt. Time after time, people who knew Lyanna say Arya is like her - not only it terms of looks but in terms of personality, too. When it comes to her parents, she shares her father's values and follows the lessons taught by him and at the same time she shares some traits with her mother as well. I don't have a strong opinion over which parent she's linked to as long as fans don't overlook that her most highlighted resemblance is that of Lyanna.

However, I do have a strong opinion about Sansa and her favouring her mother. Out of all Catelyn's kids, she's the closest to her. Sansa prays to the Seven favouring her mother's gods over her father's, she likes southern things ( which come from her mother's culture) and she looks up to Catelyn in a way she doesn't do with her father. I'm not saying there is no love there because she loves her father as well but some kids favor one parent more and that's okay. Furthermore, Sansa's story really highlights her connection with Catelyn: from Littlefinger's obsession with her, to Lysa's jealously and to Jaime&Brienne and oathkeeper. Sansa's bond with her mother is so much more highlighted than the one she shares with her father. And I can't really say she favors her father in terms of personality, either.

I suspect that some fans' want to link Sansa to Ned instead of Catelyn comes from the sexist notion that since kids take the father's surname his family is superior to mother's- and the only one family they belong to.

In asoiaf, Stark are presented as the major pov family while Tully are not and therefore having parallels with the former is making the characters superior in some people's eyes. But all Stark kids (except Jon ofc) don't only have a father but a mother, too and both Ned and Catelyn are presented as equally good people in the text. So looking more like one of them over the other doesn't make any of these kids superior or inferior to the rest.

[jozor-johai]

Re: cycle of violence and red wedding 2.0

I'm partial to the idea that arya will be the one who ends the LSH reign of terror on the riverlands. Do you have any thoughts on this?

This is such a tough question because imo there are so many people for whom killing Stoneheart would be narratively satisfying. I'll give you my thoughts on Arya first but I'll confess in advance that my opinion is 100% biased because I have my own pick for who I'd rather see do it.

The part I very much like about the Arya idea is how the two of them are mirroring each other's quest for vengeance, and how Arya deciding to kill LSH would symbolically mean she's killing the desire for revenge within herself after seeing what a monster that makes someone.

There are parts I don't like about it though. Selfishly, I don't want Arya to see her mother like that. Arya has that heartbreaking line about wondering whether her mother would still love her after what she's done, and I want Arya to remember her mother as Cat, who would love her, and not as LSH, who might be incapable of love. Arya meeting LSH now might affirm Arya's fears: she returns to her mother, and there's only death and the wedge that revenge drove between them. I see the poetry, but... I don't want it for her.

Part of me also thinks: Arya shouldn't quell her quest for revenge by killing something, let alone her mother, even if she is a murder zombie now. I know Arya's being trained as a killer, and I'm sure those are skills that will serve her in the future (else what's the point), but when it comes to her relationship with vengeance, I think that the turning point should be a moment where she recognizes the possibility of hope and rebirth, (the ghost of christmas present) rather than the doom of her future should she continue her quest for vengeance (the ghost of christmas future). Now that I've made the Dickens comparison, though, maybe she does need both.

I wouldn't dislike the story if Arya did it, I think it really works, and I know if GRRM wrote it that way it would work even better than I'm imagining. But

Personally, I'm partial to the idea that it will be Brienne who kills LSH. I like that Brienne is so completely driven right now by her oath to Catelyn; Catelyn took her in and offered her a female role model that Brienne could integrate into her worldview: "You have courage. Not battle courage perhaps but . . . I don't know . . . a kind of woman's courage."

Brienne is so committed to this oath to return Cat's children that she spends the entirety of Feast on a doomed quest to achieve this goal, armed with the sword that was forged from Ned's, named Oathkeeper. But now, to save Jaime, who represents the chance at change, forgiveness, and redemption, (the polar opposites to Stoneheart's absolute vengeance) Brienne will kill her liege, the woman she personally swore her loyalty to in ACOK.

...And so Brienne will mirror Jaime the Kingslayer, the Oathbreaker, and fully understand what that meant, and what that feels like. With Ned's own steel, no less, because Ned would not have wanted what Cat became. (am I going overboard with that?)

I'm not exactly sure how the timing works out, because she can't kill LSH now before Stoneheart & the gang pull off the Red Wedding revenge plot. I have totally bought into the idea that Stoneheart etc. are going to turn Daven's wedding into a massacre, and I also fully expect it to be gruesome and not cathartic. I suspect that Jaime is integral to that plan, somehow, which is how Jaime survives so long and isn't immediately killed, but I don't know how they manage to get Jaime to aid them. He's having a change of heart, sure, but he's not going to roll over and let them kill his family, so maybe they have some more important leverage. Could even be Brienne, if they understand that bond, although I don't know how they would.

The way I see it working is that Jaime somehow abets Stoneheart carrying out the Red Wedding 2.0 plan, even though it costs him so much. Then, Stoneheart and the BWB move to kill Jaime afterward, anyway, despite it all. Then, seeing the horror of what LSH has become and done, Brienne kills LSH.

Then and her and Jaime kiss run away and live happily ever after back to Casterly Rock, just like in the weirwood dream he had.

Kind of a long-winded response, but those are my thoughts on the end of LSH.

[hum-suffer]

How will my story conclude (without your name beside mine)?

Jaime doesn't know what he's doing in this cold wasteland of a place, standing in the hall of dead people, being scrutinized by a dragon and a pack of wolves. His eyes flit to Tyrion.

(He's no lion. He killed father, he killed father, he kill—)

He dares a gaze on Sansa while the Dragon Queen speaks of his atrocities. She's still the same as she was four years ago, when she was his wife still. Her hair is pulled in a northern style now and he finds it gives her more life than the complicated braids of the South. Red hair that glints like the sun and feels like the fire is the only thing that shows life in this hall. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are wide as her gaze surpasses her half brother and lands on the Dragon Queen.

He misses those mornings when they woke up facing each other. Yearning curls inside him precariously like a snake dangling off a tree when he remembers the way she laughed when he made a morbid joke about his hand. He remembers gifting her his mother's emerald and silver ring, wonders if she still wears it.

(My love, he remembers calling her when she once woke from a Joffery inspired nightmare. He wonders if she remembers.)

"We?" The Dragon Queen questions him after he spills everything that Cersei did to him that broke his soul in clean pieces.

Jaime clenches his jaw. "I promised to fight for the living, I intend to keep that promise."

Jaime sees Tyrion move and his little brother's eyes twitch in the way that is a sign that he's desperate.

(Jaime knows all his tells. Tyrion learnt them all from him, afterall.)

"You're right, you can't trust him." Sansa speaks and he wants to kneel with the weight of the words that tear him to pieces in a moment. Distantly, he remembers the night she held him and kissed his forehead as he sobbed to her that he only ever wanted to save the Queen Rhaella. Remembers her telling him that she trusted him.

She continues,"He assaulted my father in the streets and sought to ruin my House and family, as well." And now she looks at him. And oh, how Jaime underestimated her power over him. Even now, even as she burns with poison for him, he would gladly drink the poison if it meant having her gaze locked on him. "And yet, he's an honourable and honest man."

Jaime feels like he can breathe again. Sansa continues, her words becoming more alive as she speaks,"I have yet to hear a single lie of Jaime Lannister, I have yet to see someone so devoted to family and oathkeeping." Sansa stands up and keeps her gorgeous eyes on his while she crosses the table and comes to stand beside him.

She's still two inches shorter than him. The scar above her lip hasn't disappeared. The bruise that he'd last seen on her jaw isn't there anymore. The bite that he'd pressed on her throat was long forgotten.

She doesn't look at him as she lifts her chin higher, and her eyes, so much like the ice he's seen on his way, are enough to freeze anyone else. "I vouch for this man, your grace." The royal title falls from her lips almost like an insult.

"As a good wife should. You did not answer my earlier question; shall I call you Lady Lannister?" The Dragon Queen hisses, sneering at Sansa. Jaime wants to slit her tongue for the tone and his hand goes to his hip, where his sword isn't. He grits his teeth and shifts, trying to shield her.

Sansa grins anyways,"My betrothal contract states that my name remains Sansa Stark, your grace. Do call me Lady Stark." Before the Dragon Queen can snarl at her once more, there's a loud tinkling sound and a child's giggle behind them.

Something brushes past his calf and Sansa almost stumbles when the child stumbles into her. She leans downward and picks up the child effortlessly, with practised ease. She has the exact red hair that Sansa does and pain and something else so cold grasps Jaime's throat that he wishes he would have died on his journey back.

Of course, she moved on. She didn't say anything clearly when Daenerys accused her of siding with Jaime because she was his wife. Even if she hasn't married, not that Jaime knows of, she may have taken another lover. As she should have. She deserves happiness, she deserves someone whole.

(He remembers thinking she was similar to his mother. He remembers thinking Sansa would have made a wonderful mother.)

The child twists in her arms and his world tilts on its axis. It's a girl, he doesn't know how old, and she has his eyes. He knows those are his eyes, he's seen them in the mini portrait of his mother that he keeps on his person at all times. They're green, Lannister green, with flecks of gold in them that ended with Tywin and Joanna Lannister.

"Mama," she says and he wants to cry. Sansa, his wife, his love, his redemption. A mother. The child sounds so sweet. "I'm faster than Lady Myr."

Sansa smiles for the first time since Jaime has come to Winterfell, eyes bright and a dimple under her lower lip, just as he remembers. "That's very good, dearest. But we must apologise to Lady Myr for making her run, shouldn't we?" The child nods eagerly, big green eyes looking at her.

She adjusts her hold on the child and he sees the emerald ring glinting on Sansa's third finger. He can't help himself. He takes a step forward, encouraged by the way Sansa smiles at him and the court doesn't speak against their Lady. "Hello, beautiful lady. I am Jaime Lannister, may I know your undoubtedly beautiful name?"

The girl looks at Sansa and Sansa nods before the girl's face lights up with the biggest smile he has ever seen and she looks like the picture of ecstasy. "Father!" She says excitedly, and Jaime stumbles forward. Sansa catches him, one arm holding her daughter, their daughter, his daughter, on her hip. "I am Joanna! Why didn't you come earlier?"

Jaime looks up at Sansa and there are tears in her eyes and she's a blur against his own tears. She named their child after his mother. After his mother. His mother. Mother. Mother. Mother. Mama. Mama.

Another Joanna Lannister, and Jaime promises himself that he will love her even more than he loved the previous one. His daughter.

He steals a look at Sansa again and speaks to Joanna. "I had some work, little one. But do not worry, I won't leave you now." From the moons of learning how she behaved, Jaime sees the relief dance across Sansa's face and he holds his hands out. He knows he's a stranger to his daughter but damn him he wants to be her father. "May I?"

Sansa looks at Joanna first, asking permission. Joanna nods, just as enthusiastic as she has been the whole time. She looks at his hands as he holds her and he's aware of Sansa saying something to someone that's not him or their daughter and he tunes it out, knowing she's only defending him. He tries to rest Joanna on his hip and the girl, seeming to know how much his prosthetic hand bothers him, adjusts by herself.

"You have a golden hand!" She smiles at him toothily,"I helped Mama stitch a gold hand on one of her dresses yesterday. It's really pretty, red."

"Like your hair?" He asks her, smiling at how she grips his jerkin in her little fists.

She giggles and nods,"Like my hair! The gold hand was like your hair. We all have pretty colours in our hair. Which gods do you think are in-charge of hair, father? We must thank him!"

Jaime huffs a laugh. "May I kiss your forehead, little one?"

She nods,"Mama does it all the time. She says that it's a special way of saying that she loves me." Jaime presses a small kiss on her crown and closes his eyes, willing the tears away. Hell if he will cry in front of all his enemies.

"This is my husband and I will swear upon my honour as a Stark and the happiness of my daughter, he is the most honourable man alive. I vouch for him. If he is deemed a traitor to the North by cold evidence, I will die alongside him."

Jaime turns to face the enemies and hides his daughter's face in his shoulder. He will cut each and every one of them before they touch her. Before they touch either of the ladies beloved by him.