nightmaer

[nightmaer]

busy week this week but should be on fri / the weekend 💜

[nightmaer]

the fates,     the gods,      many faced men,      whoever,      had brought her back here.     she knew it.     the list of people she had lost had only grown and yet here he stood.    she would allow herself to believe it,     if only for a few moments.     back leans against wooden table,     relaxing a little.     arya had nothing to fear from him,     never had and never would.      the list of people she would allow herself to loosen up around was slim to none,     jon was at the top,     followed by sansa then bran.     then she supposed gendry.    when she was younger,     she did not have many   [    any?    she thinks to herself.    ]     friends.    her father and jon did not count.    sansa always had jeyne poole,     arya’s childhood was ripped away from her far too soon to ever delight in finding a best friend.     syrio forel had been the first person to truly extend a branch to her and he was long dead now.      she had never much liked the ladies at court,     all they wanted to talk about were the lords and their dresses     —    it seemed frivolous to her then,      even more so now.      there was a pained thought then,     the years she had spent calling sansa stupid,     spent her time loathing her.      it wasn’t until she thought her whole family dead that it dawned upon her how much she loved them so.

❛          i didn’t pay too much attention to my schooling,     much to my mothers displeasure.          ❜        strange was it was,     she wished her mother would scold her now,     even only to hear her voice again,     she had begun to forget what it sounded like.      when she had found sansa,     she saw parts of her mother then.      her hair,     her posture.    joy was something she was sure she would never feel again.     the last time she had felt it was the day she had gotten nymeria,      only to cruelly have to send her away.     seeing her family,     those emotions and parts of herself she thought she had buried,      thought would never return to the surface,      they had bubbled over and her heart had thawed ever so slightly.      it’s what she feels here,      stood in front of gendry.     her heart thrumming against her chest.     some newer emotions she had never felt before,      had difficulty placing them.         ❛          you’ve always been nicer to me than any high born lord.          ❜        a strange complement,     she thinks.      there are so many other things she wishes she would say if her tongue would only allow.

quirk of her brow and roll of her eyes.    it did not seem to matter how many times she told him not to,     he would call her lady forever,      if not to do anything but irk her.      when she was younger,     she would indeed have thrown a tantrum.      huffed and stalked away whilst calling him names under her breath.     then they’d share some bread over the fire and all would be good again.       ❛            just arya is fine,      you know.          ❜        her sister was lady stark.     she was quite content in just being arya stark of winterfell,      mind the lady.      perhaps she just wanted to hear her name on his lips.      now he was older,    gruffer,      her no longer pretending to be arry.     being a lady did not matter to her,      not because of the same superficial reasons as from when she was younger,     but because,     winter was coming.       there was a chance their days were numbered,      that they could not fight their way out of this.      there’s a twinge in her chest as her eyes find his again,     a strong urge to reach out and touch him,     hug him,     anything,       her fingers even twitch for a moment before she thinks to herself,     maybe he does not want that.

❛          oh that is a very long story,     gendry the blacksmith.           ❜          her eyes drift to his hands then.      a small smile tips on lips,     she liked the look of them like that.     him doing something he was expertly skilled that.    he had always been caught up on the distance between their class,      had mentioned it when she told him she could be his family.     it had never mattered to her.     not for a one moment.     mattered even less now.        ❛          i escaped the hound and got on a boat.     i was no one for a while,      killed,    drank,     spied.       worked,     scrubbed some floors,     even went blind until i had truly learnt the meaning of being no one,      not to take from the many faced god.       got stabbed,      killed the freys.          ❜          insane,     is probably what he is thinking of her right now.��     though,     all of it happened and she knew not many would believe her.             ❛          jon filled me in on his adventures beyond the wall,     might have mentioned something about you being there.             ❜        a pause,      jon had told her a lot.    but if gendry wanted to tell her himself,      she’d let him,    wouldn’t impose.          ❛          you saw them?    the dead.          ❜          she straightens up and takes a small step towards him.      ❛          i thought….     i thought you were dead.           ❜        her voice drops off at the end of her sentence,       a small crack.          ❛            i’m truly glad you are not.            ❜       

i'm not a lady, she has claimed, though gendry would whole-heartedly disagree.

she'd been a lady then, even scrawny and hair cut scrappily short t' be passed off as a boy's, she'd been a lady. the years since they last... since they last saw each other hadn't changed that. ( and he had t' think it that way. saw, without the act of finality he'd have had himself believed in for so long. like they were simply old friends biddin' farewell at some crossroads, they were, when the truth o' the matter was : he'd been wheeled off because he was stupid and unfortunate. and she'd been right. he shouldn't 'ave never trusted anyone but arya. she would've never sold him off; she wouldn't 'ave traded him for anything ... just as he wouldn't. )

as a matter of fact, gendry believes she looks more like a lady than anythin' now. there is certainly a composure t' her he wouldn't 'ave recognised in arry, the orphan boy, the stark-girl-in-hiding he knew. arry had been more bite and daring fists. a tiny thing gendry had had to more than once hold back from certain confrontation. this... lady in front o' him wears arry's face, aye, though cleaner, and older, and ... and gendry wouldn't 'ave dreamt of touchin' her with his smithy hands right at present, he wouldn't. they're dirty, after all. soot-covered and fire-licked. they're meant for the ashes; for the work he was always born for. she's different.

and that's- that's okay now. that's okay, because none about whether she's m'lady or he's too bloody lowborn would matters if it means she's home. she's right where she's supposed to be. the winterfell she's always dreamt about.

the mention of hot pie springs forth a smile upon his face, finally, though the smith directs it t' his ale than at her. he- he's glad t' know the slow chap's alive. gods, if only gendry knew... if only he knew, maybe he would've made some effort t' see the lad again. one last time, at the very least. ❛ i said what i said, ❜ he rebukes, not quite smartly he'll admit, though that's the point, ain't it ? ❛ aye. not bein' schooled is sort o' the whole point o' bein' a poor baseborn, m'lady stark. ❜

and it says so in jest, or he'd like t' believe it's came out that way anyhow. sometimes gendry understands he can come across far bitter, angrier. not this time though. he's teasin'. but who knows how arry — lady arya, daughter of eddard stark — would take it. maybe it'll just remind her o' the way they part : angry and sulking, tearing the bridge o' their social class further and further as the miles between them grew bigger. gendry couldn't be sorry for it though. still bull-headed and stubborn - aye, there is guilt and remorse in how they were separated, true, but he is still poor. she is still the daughter o' the former hand, sister to her lady sansa stark.

❛ they said ye've travelled east. ❜ he'd known it mainly from rumours more than anything. but now gendry's hungry for the truth. ❛ how'd ye' managed that, then ? ❜

[nightmaer]

I am not a legend, I’m a fraud

[nightmaer]

molars grind together,     brows pinching together in frustration.   the part of her that yearned to run wild and free was difficult to smother,    to push down.    the feeling of stillness was one that bothered her.    it was an adjustment     [      one she had glady made,     since having hope      ],      but that did not mean it was any less of a struggle for her.        ❛       klaus….       ❜           finger massages temple.       ❛        i can’t just sit and do nothing like a damn caged animal.    again our daughters life is in danger.    her fathers life in danger over a feud that has lasted thousands of years!      ❜      there’s a slight raise in her voice.      fingers knead in neck as she takes a pause,     wanting to ease some tension.    her and klaus were no strangers to heated arguments,     choice words.     but,      she did not want that around hope.    hope deserved everything that neither of them got and that included parents who did not allow differences to damage their child.    she would need to work on her usual defensive stance she automatically took,      hope would grow up seeing her parents card for one another. 

❛       sorry,    i’m not….    your mother is a problem.     one i would happily decapitate but this body jump thing….     it’s like she’s constantly one step ahead.     i just want hope safe,      klaus.    i want to wake up in the morning and wonder what to make her for breakfast,     not that her life is on the line.          ❜

@nightmaer said: “ you can’t scare me off. growl and bite all you want, but i’m not afraid. ” from hayley!

    “THIS IS NOT UP FOR DISCUSSION.” He was not willing to risk losing another person. Hayley was a particularly divisive person in his quest for control over the city and the safety of his daughter. They were not joined by will; instead, their loyalty was dictated by circumstance. Bound to one another by a common desire to protect an unlikely occurrence — their miracle child. Very little were his capacities to care challenged as they were with Hayley in his life. The longer he grew to know her, the more his interest in her compounded. She was a Queen, blessed with ambitious spirit and a wise counsel. Not only would he lose Hope’s mother, he would lose his friend. “Need I remind you, you are easily defeated by the witches. I will not allow the mother of my child to come to harm. My mother is not above revenge. Have I made myself clear?”

[nightmaer]

im so sorry guys i’ve literally just had no muse and been sooo poorly, I’m still kinda here

[nightmaer]

“In the apartment building that stretches for two bus stops, I am a test-child exposed to the burning reactor of my grandmother’s memory. In the first decade of my life, I receive a full dose of her—your—pravda [truth] as a daily injection.”

— — Valzhyna Mort, from “Baba Bronya,” Music for the Dead and Resurrected

[nightmaer]

brows furrowed together as she worked, careful to be gentle but attempting to apply enough pressure to stop the bleeding. lucky she wasn't squeamish. cup of caf-pow to her left, not that she would be getting sleep with or without the caffeine, anyway, her first aid kit to her right. butterfly stitches are applied once wound is cleaned, hoping that would do the trick. she's sure if nikita wanted to go to the hospital for proper stitches, she would have done. smell of antiseptic fills the air, damp wipe cleaning off any extra blood. ❛ well... ❜ a pause as she leans back slightly to view her work. ❛ your clothes are ruined. but the stitches should hold for now. that is, if you don't go out doing whatever got you into this situation again. if you re-open the wound you're probably going to need actual stitches. ❜ dabs a bit more blood from the wound, furrow line between brows. ❛ how does it feel? ❜

@nightmaer : [wound] - Sender has to patch up receiver's wound.

not new. getting injured, wounded, it's part of her life by now & can't do much to change it. only there wasn't everything she could patch up on her own and she couldn't always go to a hospital, and going back to division wasn't an option anymore. so she seek out who she can, where she can. sitting on a kitchen chair, leaned forward and head tilted to the side, hair tucked over one shoulder : away from the wound on her other shoulder. nick of a dagger against flesh and warm blood had trickled down. out of her reach however, or she would have cleaned it up, put on a bandaid when it's stopped bleeding and called it a day.     ❝   what's the verdict ?   ❞

[nightmaer]

ARYA STARK APPRECIATION MONTH ⇾ Day 2: Nymeria.

[nightmaer]

she isn't entirely sure what she meant: whether she was speaking in regards to herself or the world. words that she doesn't mean to speak out loud often come out around steve, his precense causes an easiness within her. there is a heaviness and weariness settling in bones that she had not truly felt since she was young. since she was ripped from her sister. a sense of loss. [ i have made this harder on myself, she thinks. ] a found family, is what people called it. her path of redemption had led this to this, would she have chosen this if she knew how it would all end up? her answer changes daily. the struggle between what she was programmed to feel vs what she does actually feel. she had grown up erasing parts of herself and could not break the habit.

❛ i don't know, we could open a sandwich shop? i've gotten quite good at making them. ❜ an attempt at a joke, it doesn't matter that she forces a smile at the other, it doesn't reach her eyes. not really. fingers absentmindedly knead into neck, working to ease some of the tension she constantly carries. ❛ i know how to fake a whole lot of things but no.... i don't think i could do anything else other than this. ❜

@nightmaer : ❛ there's nothing left to save now. ❜ from natasha!

it twists and turns, it's a weight that does not leave his chest, as if chained to his reputation, knowing the persona he offers the world is the one he must always be now. the soldier, the fighter, righteous man, he is all of it, true but he's more than that, steve does not get lost in it : he's a kid from brooklyn, someone that does not think that rules are what matters, there's a compass he follows, something about right and wrong. [ YOU ALWAYS STAND BACK UP ] it had not mattered then that he was sick and frail, it still does not matter now that he is strong and healthy : he'll always stand back up.

a sigh, that feels like a thousand years worth of exhaustion, falls from rosy lips, clear skies eyes find the porcelain of her skin, the toughness of her features, ❛ we're still there, that's something worth fighting for. ❜ he prays to god like a bad habit, tries to find faith in this new world, steve takes comfort in what he knows, war is always like falling back into clean sheets and his mother's arms, HOME. ❛ i don't think i know how to do anything else anyway. do you ? ❜

[nightmaer]

[nightmaer]

ARYA STARK APPRECIATION MONTH Day 22: humorous and soft moments

Arya shoved him back against the anvil and made to run, but Gendry caught her arm. She stuck a foot between his legs and tripped him, but he yanked her down with him, and they rolled across the floor of the smithy. He was very strong, but she was quicker. Every time he tried to hold her still she wriggled free and punched him. Gendry only laughed at the blows, which made her mad. He finally caught both her wrists in one hand and started to tickle her with the other, so Arya slammed her knee between his legs, and wrenched free. Both of them were covered in dirt, and one sleeve was torn on her stupid acorn dress. “I bet I don’t look so nice now,” she shouted.

[nightmaer]

rise of corner of her lips is small, but it is there.  she thinks back to when they saw each other last,  how different she was then.    scrawny little girl,   vengeance on her mind.    her revenge would take a back seat for the moment,   but not for long.   then she would be free.   realises she may even sound different than how she did back then,    posture had even changed,    back straight and arms clasped behind back.   hair longer and face a little fuller.   shapeshifted into the wolf she’d always wanted to be.   his expression brings back memories, she would call fond,     if they were not living in fight and flight every day.    ❛ i’m not a lady. ❜     she was not born to be one,   not really,   sansa was always good at that stuff,    arya had always felt much more at home with a weapon in her hand and mud between her toes.  

there is an unfamiliar feeling in her chest, [ similar to when she’d found out her family was not lost. ] relief.   is what she soon realised it was.   he was dead,   she had come to accept.   dragged away from her,   sold and never to be seen again.  another person to add to her list of people to grieve.   she had thought the world was playing another cruel joke on her.   seeing hot pie again,     the information that jon,   sansa and bran were all alive and okay.   now gendry.   part of her is waiting,   waiting and preparing for her to wake up,   alone in the woods,    it all have had being a dream.   i could be your family.   the words rung in her head now,   she had never begged for much in her life.   but at that moment she would have done anything to stay with gendry.   takes the cup of wine and gulps a decent amount,    can’t help but appreciate the taste,   all she had drank for years was ale that tasted like piss and water that didn’t quite quench her thirst.

❛ you know,   hot pie called me pretty when he saw me. ❜     her tone is light,   brow cocks.   ❛ but it’s nice to see your skills of observation have only grown these past few years. ❜   now,   she takes a moment to look at him,   truly look at him.   he was always handsome,   she’d always known that,    but the years had been kind to him,   growing into his looks.    ❛ i always knew you were more brawn than brains. ❜     another realisation,   she is joking,    playful even.    something she couldn’t remember the last time she had done.

@forgaeven .

‘ we can’t make any promises, but you can make me a drink. ’ from arya!

❛ a drink—? ❜ t' say his eyebrows 'ave gone upwards into his hairline would've been an understatement, though gendry tries, for all his might, t' not show his expressions as much. he reckons he didn't much succeed. s' one o' his biggest flaws, the ones he'd never much tried to correct, since he was a child. if tobho mott had been here, surely he'd knocked gendry head over from the lack o' manner. he isn't, though. master mott had passed years ago, a year in fact, after gendry's return to king's landing once he's escaped dragonstone. so much had changed since the last time.

he had grown. and, as he's slowly learning, so has she.

gendry's movement afterwards is slow. as if he's still tryin' to wrap the thought of her bein' anythin' more than the scrawny li'l princess he has had to keep safe, though of course, as soon as the memory comes, something sharp comes with it. that night in the cave. her teary request. his rejection o' it. you wouldn't be my family. you would be m'lady. and the day after. the day he was sold. the day he'd been taken away, ripped from her, only t' learn later that she'd never made it back to robb stark and the north bannermen. that she'd died. she must've had, 'cause there was no news of arya stark any longer; she'd died, and gendry's wrongdoing had died with her.

until she showed up years later, sittin' here right now, 'cross from him. bright, grey eyes and the very same dark hair, though longer.

she's different, he thinks. though of course she would be. it's years between them since. she's grown. she's grown, gendry tries hammerin' that into his head, numb. and, as it stands, she's old enough for a proper drink, is she ? funny, that. he grabs for the wine, somethin' sweet he wouldn't had otherwise — nor cared to, if he were honest — and pours it for her.

❛ you sure ye' aren't too short for it, m'lady ? with tha' size... ❜

@nightmaer — reputation (2017)

[nightmaer]

I had c*vid last week and i’m still struggling to get back into a routine, I’m going to try and write today but my brain has honestly been like mush!

[nightmaer]

War ate a girl and spat out a woman. (x) requested by goodqueenalys

[nightmaer]

it is not often she meets another on her hunts, usually fellow hunters from town respected each others areas. came together when needed and gave space when required. eyes narrow at the other, hand on gun. ready, waiting, twitching. pupils drop to his mask, curious. ❛ you know what it is? ❜ a pause. the air is still, too still for her liking. goosebumps prickle back of neck. ❛ you got dibs on killin' it or somethin'? ❜

❥ — › @nightmaer liked !

❛    THIS  ISN’T  YOUR  FIGHT  –      ❜  the  blade  is  held  loosely  in  his  hand  ,  enabling  fluid  movement  if  necessary  .  the  mask  crossing  his  mouth  is  held  taut  with  the  intention  of  protecting  him  from  any  toxins  if  he  needs  to  shift    between  the  realms  but  he’s  not  ready  to  go  that  far  yet  .  no  .  the  what  the  assassin  hunts  is  something  stuck  here  ,  incapable  of  moving  back  and  forth  ,  and  while  his  ability  makes  it  perfect  for  him  to  catch  them  by  surprise  —  for  now  ?  he  searches  .  ❛    i’d  recommend  finding  some  other  creature  to  deal  with  ,  this  one’s  mine  .        ❜

[nightmaer]

'I CAN'T SLEEP. I SEE THEM, WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES.' ubbe ragnarsson & sansa stark: @rihtual.

sleepless nights were, indeed,    something she was acquainted with.    even now.    even safe.    there was a constant state of tenseness that she could not seem to shake.   it had begun when she was first in kings landing and it had not left her.    no matter how many years went by.     she had changed more than the seasons,   no more little dove.   no more innocence.     the weather transforms,    the wolves howl,    the birds fly south,     even when sansa,   herself,   travels,    she is perpetually stuck in her memories.     softness no longer exists,     silk has turned to armor,    voice to stone.     one thing remains:     she was a stark and she was brave.     when she was younger she had envied the girls who still dreamt of love and songs,    that had ended for her as soon as her father had died.    when joffery cut that piece of her out,    along with his head.          ❛          i awoke with nightmares for years after i witnessed my fathers death.          ❜          it did not make her weak,    she had come to learn.     her love for her family is what strengthened her.    a small,    sad,     smile graces lips.       ❛         i could hear it,     the sound of his head hitting the floor,    for days on end.         ❜           the fire crackles,      in the distance she can hear song.     

she did not know what happened once one was dead.   jon had told her nothingness.    perhaps the small girlhood that was left in her hoped that was not true.   that he had only said that because he was deemed fit for another purpose,   not yet crossed over.  ❛         i speak to the gods sometimes,    i do not know if they listen.   i pray my family are together.          ❜         prayed for signs too    …    anything   …    usually,    she was sure she would hear a wolf howl in the distance.    that,      she would perhaps keep to herself.          ❛          it helps for a while.    but death is not something that we can shake.         ❜          

[nightmaer]

like if you want me to send you a few memes! please specify which muse / muses of mine you'd like.