lannisterns:

                        Soon, he’s noticing everything. The sound of spoons at
                        the   other  end  of  the  parlor,  the  bright  circle  directly
                        under the light, by his feet, oh — and even the lightness
                        of     Sansa’s    dress    against    his    leg.    Momentary
                        hypersensitivity brought on by sheer nervousness,  and
                        lack of knowing at all what to do. All he  can  do  is  look
                        at the floor. 

                        It feels like a sudden step back, as he  stands  there  in
                        momentary  silence.   Perhaps   he   had  been  right  to
                        never be too hopeful, to think that he and  Sansa  might
                        be  savable,  that  this  was  all  just  a  rocky  road  and
                        soon they’d turn into being normal.  Oh, how  he’d  love
                        to be right just this once. 

                        But it still grates on him,  the  hovering  reality  that  he’s
                        living with Sansa beside him, and  somehow  it  has  to
                        work  —-  in   silence,   or  not.   And  so  he  snaps  into
                        animation,   forcing   forward  all   he   can  to  mask  the
                        slight   panic   behind   his  eyes.  ”I  think  I’ll  have   the
                        same,”   he   starts,   perhaps   sounding   a   little  less
                        pleased than he should —- and then he forces a smile
                        in it’s place. “Always good to have a change, right?”

:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::

            “Cool, definitely.” God, Sansa sounds
         like a sycophant if not for how sincere
         she is. It’s her worst quality, second only
         to the stubbornness in her tall, slim frame.
         She’s a child, still– they both are and 
         maybe, in some part of her brain, Sansa
         registers that this isn’t a good idea, that
         there is a crack in the smooth surface of
         their relationship and it’s only going to get
         bigger, wider, grow into a chasm she will
         fall into, but she is so good at believing the
         lies she tells herself that it does not exist.

            Under the cheap florescent lights of the
         parlor, Sansa thinks his hair is almost white,
         his eyes a shocking green she feels in her
         bones. In the confines of this date and the
         stretch of summer before them, she thinks
         he is beautiful. Terrible and charming.

            “Shall I get us a booth then? And you can
         order for us?” It’s an innocent question,
         posed sweetly as she jerks her head to the
         half empty seats off to their side. But the 
         thing about your subconscious is that it
         will try, try its hardest, to protect you from
         monsters and demons you don’t remember
         and maybe they both need a little breather
         lest something ugly blooms from the newly
         planted seeds of joy in their garden.

lannisterns:

          “And yet you still seem to be so intent on delaying my own
           actions. You would be wise  not  to  deny  your  king,  Lady
           Sansa.”

:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::

                       "I—- surely, you have
                   the better aim, Your Grace.“

lannisterns

“Are you taking his side against me?” 

:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::

                          “I would never, Your Grace.
                      You are in the right, of course
                      and should punish as you see
                      fit.”

lannisterns:

                          For a moment, the calmness of the situation — the two
                          of them, no longer at  each  others  throats,  the  air  no
                          longer filled with tension, well, it sends a  sharp  shiver
                          down Joff’s spine. It’s not usual, it’s not normal, and he
                          doesn’t know how to cope like this.

                          But by this time  he  has  no  choice,  he’s  being  thrust
                          forward by his own words and as if losing control of his
                          mind. Weird is really only the beginning  of  what  could
                          be a very uphill slope. Or,  downhill,  perhaps  from  his
                          point of view at least. 

                          And she remembers,  and it suddenly hits him just how
                          much   of   a   relationship   this   really   is.    He    might
                          Sansa as  much  less  than  she  deserved,  but  now  it
                          pangs, everything pangs, and everything is still different
                          —- and suddenly the  world  moves  too  fast,  before  he
                          knows it  he’s  inside,  scanning  the  familiar  parlor  for
                          anything he likes, far too tame. 

                          ”Looks like we’re out of  luck  on  that  one  ——  the  old
                          special   sundae,   I   mean.   But,    looks    like    there’s
                          something new, still just as special. What  do  we  have
                          to lose?” He  shoots  another  grin,  like  the  ones  he’s
                          used to flashing  to  keep  her  sane,  to  make  it  seem
                          like  it’s  all  worth  it  still.  Maybe  he  could  even  really
                          mean this one. 

:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::

            She’s so used to one-sided conversations,
        used to him clamming up on her, just turning
        to stone while she holds up a chisel and a half-
        read manual to chip away the ice block on his
        shoulder that when it melts, a slow drip drip drip
        onto the floor around him and he actually tries,
        she thinks, mistakenly, its love all over again.

            Sansa doesn’t take his hand, she knows
        better than to try her luck, but the hem of her
        dress brushes against his leg when they walk
        and maybe, maybe that can mean something
        too, Sansa thinks, as she stares up at the menu.

            “You’re right. I think I’m gonna get it. New
        summer, new flavors right?” She crosses her
        arms, fingers resting on the chin of her heart
        shaped face, tilted towards him, azure eyes
        smiling at him. “What about you? What are
        you gonna try this time?”

fyeahsophieturner:

I remember [director] Dan Minahan really opened my mind to the idea that the stuff Joffrey does really isn’t his fault. He spoke about the idea that he might really like Sansa deep down, but his only role models are Robert and Cersei and he feels he has to act a certain way. He’s a product of his circumstance. - Jack Gleeson | Inside HBO’s Game of Thrones

lannisterns:

                              If it weren’t for his constantly  brooding demeanour,
                              Joffrey could’ve shown  a  form  of  true  happiness.
                              All he can push for is  a  slanted,  jaded  form  of  a
                              smile. Hence, its truly successful times  like  these
                              when he wishes he had not forced  himself  into  a
                              disgustingly hateful rut in the first place. 

                             ’Perhaps   then  I  might  have  been  as  happy  as
                              Sansa seems’, he thinks, as he can’t help but just
                              watch   her   reactions   for  a  mere  moment.  The
                              gratification   of  their  attempts  to  be  as  much  a
                              couple  as  they  could  ever  be  had  never  before
                              been this —- well, gratifying. He didn’t  want  to  jinx
                              anything, so he kept his theories under wraps —-
                              perhaps, this could have been a  starting  point,  if
                              nothing else. 

                              At this  point,  however,  anything  was  better  than
                              a  party.  At  those  dreadful  things,  Joff  would  be
                              surrounded   by   unfamiliar   people,   and   would
                              have to keep a close, watchful eye  on  Sansa.  He
                              hoped that, at least in the parlor,  he might be able
                              to   have   somewhat   of   a   slice  of    meaningful
                              conversation with her. It seemed he was  ever  the
                              hopeful, this night. 

                              But he can’t help but  share  in  a  little  part  of  her
                              giddiness   as   he  brings  himself  to  speak.   He
                              could even come to enjoy this night  yet.  ”Let’s  do
                              it. I haven’t had ice cream in ages, and I mean —-
                              we still have loads of time.” 

                              Yes,   he   seems  to   be  at  least  keeping  things
                              together  for  now.  His  conflicting  feelings  seem
                              to be torturous by  this  time,  but  he  still  plasters
                              a smile to his face. Surely the pair  might  even  be
                              able to figure out where the hell they stand, too. 

:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::

                  “That’s true. Nothing quite says summer
                   like ice-cream,” she replies, the ease in
                   which conversation comes to her a relief
                   and something refreshing simultaneously.

                   It’s almost like they can pretend there isn’t
                   a tension between them, a slowburn of the
                   long fuse towards damnation that’s turning
                   into ashes by their feet– it’s almost like the
                   smoke does not exist and all they smell is
                   roses, a garden full of spring in the heat,
                   the blistering, unmerciful heat of summer.

                   "Oh, do you remember? They used to have
                   those special sundaes?“ She gives a small
                   groan, already tasting sweetness on her lips.
                   ”D‘you think they’ll still have them?“

                   It doesn’t really matter if they do or not,
                   what matters is she finds an association
                   to a past that’s not quite fraught with land-
                   mines, a link to something good that she
                   can bring forward, tie together and drag
                   out of the mud like it isn’t already sinking.

                   The parking lot is half full but they’re lucky
                   enough to get a spot near the parlor, half
                   illuminated by the interior florescent lights.
                   She puts the car in park, flashes him a grin
                   and pushes open the door into the balmy night.
                   

lannisterns:

                Joff always enjoyed it when it seemed like he might be
                winning. To an effect, this seemed to be the case now.
                He was winning, in a sense that he still  felt  Sansa  to
                be easy to win over. A small smile and a less ———
                begrudging   tone,  and  it  seemed  as  though  things
                were okay. 

                He lived for moments when it was safe to say that the
                pair were okay together.  Somewhere he had come to
                understand, that okay would  be  the  best  that  they’d
                ever  get.    Joff   supposed,   in  time,  things  may  be
                different,  though  he  hoped   that  his  life  would  not
                consist of  only  alright  circumstances.  For  both  his
                and Sansa’s sake. 

                Still,  he  laughed,  losing  himself  to  a  wild  train  of
                thought for a moment. This  was  hardly  like  he  had
                ever remembered — or perhaps it had just  been  that
                long since they shared happiness. 

                ”That’s true. I’ve never been the  most  enthusiastic  to
                clean up, either.  At least we know I’ll never be holding
                parties, more like enthusiastically crashing them.” He
                paused, and looked out of the window again.

                Was it really worth the chance? Though his mind went
                through a brief state of ‘fuck it, run  with  it’.  ”Ice cream
                sounds really good right now, actually.”

:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::

                  A laugh! A laugh– oh, if both her hands
              weren’t needed for the wheel, surely Sansa
              would have broke out into a little dance to
              celebrate. He has a lovely laugh, she thinks,
              as her cheeks heat up and her grin stretches,
              the novelty not yet wearing thin. 

                 { She doesn’t doubt he likes her– he must!
              But circumstances and old habits and maybe
              they didn’t read the same fairytales and watch
              the same teenage movies but– they  t r y. }

                 "I’m with you on that one. it’s more fun to
              mess up someone else’s house,“ Sansa says,
              without an ounce of lie on her tongue. How
              light her heart as she finds butterflies and their
              wings begin its beat in her stomach.

                  More so when he leads with an open to get
              ice cream. ”I– I was just thinking that.“ Doesn’t
              matter that technically, she planted the idea. It’s
              his invitation that makes her giddy. ”You wanna
              go? I can almost hear it call your name.“

                  Teasing. Teasing, she thinks as she takes a
              turn to bring them towards the parlor instead of
              an early lonely night at home. Oh, how lucky!

lannisterns:

[ text: little dove ] : uh huh. plus tommen’s cats —- and the creepy men that think i’m….yeah. l et’s not go there 

{ text message’ King ♥’ }
wait what do tommen’s cats have to do with anything?

{ text message ‘King ♥’ }
did they try to nest on your head again? 

lannisterns

[ text: little dove ] : i ma y have almost fallen in a ditch. this is why i usually take you with me

{ text message ‘King ♥’ }
to save you from ditches? :)