Open Prompt Sent By@immobiliter / Robin Wish I Didnt Care .

🪐 —open prompt  sent by  @immobiliter​  /  robin                        ❛ wish i didn’t care .❜

      TOWNS LIKE HAWKINS COULD FEEL LIKE A CAGE  for those who didn’t easily  fit into the established mold. birdie knew far too well the uncomfortable sensation of not belonging in a close-knit community like this one.  &  folks around small towns could be mean to anyone who was the slightest bit different  — especially high school kids. it was one of the reasons that she kept the art room door open during her lunch period: any of her students were welcome to come in  &  eat with her if they couldn’t brave the cafeteria for any reason, or if they just didn’t have anyone else to sit with.                                           robin had been taking her up the offer more often lately. birdie didn’t mind; she was grateful for the company, in fact. even if robin didn’t want to talk about it, it was just nice not to eat alone. but she also can’t help but worry about her student.  &  birdie doesn’t really know what to say  — doesn’t want to push her to talk about it — but she wants to help, however she can. ❝ it’s not always a bad thing to care, ❞  she says, her eyes downcast as she slices an apple into neat eighths.  ❝ but you’ve also gotta remember for your own sake that not everyone’s opinion is worth listening to. ❞

🪐 — edward teach​ ;

a low hum vibrates along his throat.   he doesn’t doubt his first mate’s words even for a second,  even in this state.  he trust izzy to take care of things when the weather gets a little rough and his head ducks down under,  surface barely in sight.  he trusts him to handle the crew,  and keep an eye out for trouble  —  coming from both outside and inside,  since they both know mutinies don’t just fall on your stupid head out of nowhere.  there are always signs,  people muttering about some inane thing or the other easily turns into dangerous little whispers.  edward should know.  it’s exactly how he became captain in the first place,  all those years ago  (   good riddance benjamin,  have fun in hell   ).  but it’s not that bad yet  —  izzy would tell him,  if it were.  he would put a stop to it with as much efficiency as he does anything else.  shit.  he really would,  wouldn’t he?  the absolute certainly hits him like a tidal wave,  for some reason. 

perhaps it’s just that,  or the subtle shift in tone,  which finally prompts him to move.  izzy deserves a little better than being dismissed without a glance,  after all.  so edward opens his eyes,  takes his hand away from his forehead and..  he is forgetting something,  isn’t he?  but what?  he’s not thinking very straight.  oh.  he moves up too fast and of course his stupid knee locks up,  pain shooting through it.  his legs almost buckle as he stumbles,  barely managing to grip the back of the chair in time.   ❛  oh,  fuck off.  ❜   voice strains around a half muffled groan,  still he manages to wheeze out something close to a laugh.  the first one in days.  ❛  how’s the weather?  think it might rain soon.  ❜   one thing that knee is ever good for,  at least:  it usually troubles him more when the sky is about to turn ugly and dark. 

          HE HAS TO FORCE HIMSELF not to go to his captain’s side when he stumbles, not to reach out a comforting hand. that is not how things are done. not for them. life is pain,  &  they survive only out of a refusal to show weakness in the face of it.  &  yet izzy still has to choke down the desire to do whatever he can manage to soothe not edward’s aches. his own pain is easy to weather, but to see his captain flinch  &  grimace as his old injury locks his knee is all but insufferable. ( after all, it had been his inability to stand by  &  bear witness as the english tortured edward that had caused izzy to leave his old life behind  &  follow him instead all those years ago. )  yet he still manages a gruff attempt at humor about it as he steadies himself with a firm grip on the back of his chair,  &  izzy allows himself a brief smile, pride flaring hot in his chest.                                           ❝ it might do, tomorrow, ❞ he agrees with a curt nod. in truth, blackbeard was far better at predicting the minutiae of the weather — yet another reason he was sorely missed abovedeck. but izzy knows that this particular prediction likely comes more from the stubborn enduring weakness in his knee than from atmospheric observations.  &  while he knows too well that tenderness is not permitted between men like them, he also knows that no one is watching them here.  &  perhaps it’s only an excuse for him to draw closer, but it is izzy’s job to serve his captain’s needs, after all. ❝ is your brace alright, boss ? does it need to be tightened ? ❞  he asks, his tone uncharacteristically gentle as he takes a tentative step forward. he hasn’t been called but still he comes, drawn to edward as a moth to flame, no regard for the potential to be burned. ❝ let me help you. ❞

                                luck hasn’t exactly been on my side.

Marina Thompson Costume Appreciation 1/?: White Dress with Gold and Pink Details in 1.01 “Diamond of the First Water”

🪐 — jon snow​ :

he  traces  the  ugly  rugged  scar  across  his  now - beating  heart,  while  grey  eyes  gaze  deep  into  the  fire.  the  memory  of  sharp  steel  plunges  into  his  skin;  warm  blood  smoking  in  icy  air.    why  me  ?  he  asks,  for  the  thousandth  time.    his  brother  died  at  a  wedding  feast  —  and  now  his  bones  lay  with  his  wolf’s  corpse  at  the  bottom  of  the  river  (  if  the  tales  were  true  ).      i  could  have  gone  to  join  him,  and  ygritte,  and  our  father.  and  yet  .  .  .               coming  back  to  this  world  is  his  destiny  —  and  his  curse.    the  gods  were  seldom  good. gentle  rap  at  the  door  causes  him  to  startle,  feet  hitting  the  floor  before  he  stands  upright.  in  the  corner,  ghost’s  red  eyes  gaze  out;  watchful,  but  seemingly  unthreatened.     the  red  woman  is  strikingly  lovely  and  ethereal,  but  jon  still  does  not  know  what  to  make  of  her,  or  her  abilities.    he  holds  to  the  old  gods  of  his  father,  yet  her  lord  of  light  seems  to  have  the  power  of  life  and  death.  for  what  cause  did  she  bring  him  back  in  the  first  place  ?  he  inhales,  swallows.     ❝  well  enough,  ❞    voice  scrapes  through  an  unpracticed  throat.    the  former  commander  gestures  broadly  to  the  tankard  of  spiced  wine  on  the  table.        ❝  i  can’t  decide  .  .  .  whether  i  wish  it  were  otherwise.  ❞

       SCARLET EYES OBSERVE HIM CLOSELY,  for even the most devout of r’hllor’s servants could still find themselves surprised at his power. nothing was impossible for her god, for life  &  death alike were his alone to bestow. this she knew, &  yet, melisandre still found herself in awe of the closed wound on jon’s chest, the warm tint of blood in his cheeks that was an undeniable sign of life.                     ❝  unfortunately, what we wish for means very little, jon snow. ❞  she responds, the ruby at her throat pulsing, scorching her skin when she speaks his name. &  though she smiles politely at his gesture, melisandre ignores the wine he offers. she has little desire for food or drink as of late. ❝ our lives are not our own — we are but tools for the lord of light to use as he deems necessary.  &  it seems that he still has need of you. ❞          a movement in the corner of the room draws her attention,  &  melisandre notices for the first time his wolf’s presence, its crimson eyes tracking her every move. the priestess can tell that it is protective of its master, but the blistering heat of its red gaze upon her is more comforting than threatening. after all, she means jon no harm. if r’hllor had decreed that he should live, she would sooner cast herself into the shadows forever than disobey his will. &  this creature too was part of her god’s design, much like jon himself  — she could see that much in its blazing eyes.                           ❝ still, i do regret that you had no choice in the matter, ❞ melisandre continued as if she had not paused, turning away from the wolf  &  back to jon himself. he was still young, after all,  &  still scarcely more than mortal. she herself could hardly remember what it had felt like to be so young  &  so human; that life given to the flames long ago. ❝ none of us do. ❞

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