Miss. Tyrell

Tell me your secrets || Margaery & Pyp || 1st August 2012

[He grins at her and reaches to brush her hair from falling into her eyes. He’s never been one for pillow talk, but this is different—it’s own creation. He and Margaery are probably not the first to talk like this, in a dim-lit bedroom, her thighs still bruised from his mouth and his neck marked dark red from her teeth.

He lets himself talk to her, presses her for more information then he gives—but still. He talks to her.]

Always thought you lot were posh—didn’t know you were that posh. [He smiles, teasing her.]

I’ll take it you have them wrapped around your little finger then.

#th: tell me your secrets #char: pyp #type: dialogue

[A sharp elbow digs into his ribs as he teases her but the gesture does not match the grin that is painted across her features. She feels giddy, almost light headed as she lays wrapped up in Pyp her fingers drawing lazy patterns against the skin of his shoulder as she speaks. Leaning up she presses her lips to his cheek in a lazy kiss before dragging them back to rest near his ear. Her voice is husky and smoke deep as she speaks] Of course I'm that posh. [She waits a beat as she presses a kiss to the spot behind his ear that makes him shudder] How else could you be my bit of rough? [She tries to move away from him across the bed knowing that he wouldn't let the comment slide. She grins at him as his eyes flash with amusement. Her cheeks hurt from grinning recently.]

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garlandtyrell

jump the shark | margaery and garlan [july 2009]

It’s nearly noon when Garlan Tyrell finds himself faced away from his desk, and staring out the window. A wonderful July day is spread out before him, through the glass. The twenty-eight year old isn’t completely out of sorts, he is however bored. Working for his father’s company, where he is supposed to be. Though the day in day out desk work was built into his routine since he came to work for TMC, it still didn’t quell his need to do something other than that.

So it’s a welcome respite when there’s a knock at his door. He spins his chair around and sorts his desk about. A shuffle of papers here, an open document on the computer, pens, highlighters strewn about his desk. Oh, he is working of course. “Come in.” He says, his tone bright and welcoming.

When it’s his sister’s face that appears after the crack of the door is open, Garlan can’t help but grin. Margaery is just the person who can side-track him long enough. At least it isn’t Mace, his father. No, his little sister is one of his few favourite people in the world. The others being his brothers, but still, his sister is his sister, and she’s special, for lack of a better word. There isn’t another Margaery Tyrell in the world, no one even comes close.

And that’s perfect, for Garlan as he stands up to greet his sister. “Margaery, how great of you to drop by.” He moves his chair aside so he could walk around his desk.

#th: jump the shark #char: garlan tyrell III #type: thread

Margaery had only joined the company a few weeks previously. She had all but grown up in the building but only ever as a visitor, an outsider. Now she was part of the team and everything felt a little different as though some of the shine had worn away. It had not come as a shock to anyone at TMC when Mace Tyrell had employed his youngest child. He had finally completed the set, all of his children working for TMC in one capacity or another. At the sound of her brother’s voice she pushed the door open and greeted him with a bright grin. Lifting her salad she waved it at him, “Figured I was allowed to come and eat lunch with my brother at least once in my career.” She joked as she closed the door softly behind her and made her way towards him. Standing on her tip toes she wrapped her arms around his frame closing her eyes as she felt his arms wrap around her and hold her close. Dropping her arms she made her way towards the visitor chair and sat down pulling the lid from her salad. Arching a brow as she saw the state of his desk she looked over her shoulder towards him, “How can you work like that, Garlan?” The thought of her own desk looking so chaotic causing a shiver to run down her spine.

ajyager

#picture

ren-baratheon

I can tell that we are going to be friends | August 20, 2010 | Renly, Loras & Margaery

ren-baratheon

Still, his smile was wide and bright, that was one thing that didn’t change between his two personas. ”Truly…I learned long ago never to believe a word the tabloids print…and the only person I know that has any idea who you really are admires you so much he wouldn’t dream of speaking ill.” He chanced another glance at Loras before turning back to Margaery, “Not that there is wrong with earning a bit of a bad reputation every now and then.”

Loras was beginning to realize that perhaps he’d made a mistake letting the two of them meet. Immediately they were clicking, and that bond was forming over a shared love of teasing Loras. Still, despite the teasing he was smiling bright like a kid in a candy store, unable to contain his giddiness. Already Renly was relaxing, and it seemed all of his fears were gone. Good— Loras was right about this, like he was with everything.

”Hey now, I only say good things about you,” Loras said, winking at her and flashing her a cheeky smile. “You’re my sweet, darling sister with a keen eye for what makes a man a good man. I trust your judgement.” That was code for— please like my boyfriend.

It wasn’t until the waitress came that Loras remembered they were in a restaurant where they were expected to order food and the like. Quickly he asked for a glass of sparkling water with lemon, not wanting anything sugary or alcoholic. He wanted to be aware of everything going on, and not panic in case Renly and Margaery suddenly turned on each other. Not that he thought they would, but even though Renly’s nerves looked like they were calming, Loras’ were still ramped up high. He wanted everything to go smoothly and perfect.

#th: i can tell that we are going to be friends #char: renly baratheon #char: loras tyrell #type: thread

Margaery grinned, “Now that is where we differ in opinion, Mr Baratheon.” She said, “A reputation is a very precious thing. It should be protected at all costs.” She sat back in her chair and took in Renlys reaction to her words. Margaery would ensure that nobody ever found out her secrets if it was the last thing she did. Loras sent his badly veiled plea her way and Margaery decided to have fun with it. “You mean you didn’t tell Mr Baratheon about the time that you locked me in your cupboard because I’d borrowed one of your Gameboy games?” She quirked a brow as her brother had the decency to look ashamed. She had been 8 and he had only locked her in there for two minutes but she still never let him forget it. Margaery looked over at the waitress and ordered a glass of chardonnay turning her attention to Renly as the young girl waited for his order.

nowhereissumwhere-blog

#picture

Tell me your secrets || Margaery & Pyp || 1st August 2012

[He smiles, a laugh bubbling against his mouth and he glances over at Margaery. She’s got a smile tugging on the corners of her lips and he reaches over, pushing her hair back as it falls over her eyes.] It’s… something I’ve learnt to live with. My adoptive parents are good people.

[He is surprised by his own words. Pyp knows the dark that swims and grows inside him, but this girl—this waif of a girl who has breezed into his life so easily is pushing away all of that with the hint of a smile.]

What about you, you’ve got brothers, haven’t you?

#char: pyp #type: dialogue #th: tell me your secrets

[He almost laughs with her and Margaery feels the grin that is threatening grow across her face as Pyp leans in and tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She hides her surprise as he answers her further. He steers the conversation away from himself and towards her. Her grin grows wide as he looks down at where her head is rested against his shoulder.] Three. [She lifts her head and meets his eye] But you already knew that. [Her tone is playful. Leaning back against the wall behind them she continues.] Willas, Garlan and Loras. Us Tyrells are not ones for common names. [She smirks to herself in the semi darkness of the room. They'd all make Pyp's life a little bit more difficult in their own little way. Willas would stare at him until he squirmed, Garlan would throw an arm around him and whisper threats into his ear with a smile on his face and Loras would prod a finger in his chest and threaten him with physical harm.] I'm the baby of the family. [She finishes shooting him a look wondering whether he would catch the hint in her words. She suspected that he would.]

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Not Gonna Make it on my Own | Loras and Margaery | September 21st

”Maybe… I don’t know if she can. I mean, she thinks she can but can she? I mean can she really? This isn’t like I’m going to the doctor for an infection. The brain is… different.” He was worrying too much and he knows he is, but he just can’t help it. The nagging feeling that nothing can be done for him returned, and he’s left feeling even more frightened than before. If nothing can be done then there is no hope— none at all.

Things would be easier if the world wasn’t falling apart. It seemed for every step Loras took toward getting over “it”, something came crashing down to knock him back six paces. Renly’s accident was just the beginning of everything. There was no reprieve.

Running a hand through his curls, he stared at the wall off to the side, biting his bottom lip in anxiety and frustration. “I mean, my therapist can’t protect me from the world, you know?” He turned back to look at Margaery, eyes big and full of worry. “Things keep happening and she can’t just stop whatever it is that makes me feel this way. She can’t tell the government to stop fucking around, she can’t get the terrorists to stop blowing up buildings and killing people. She can’t help with that, and that’s what really matters. It’s what… it’s what makes me feel this way. Gets me knotted up inside and twists and twists till… till I can’t… I can’t even think anymore or breath anymore. Till I can’t live properly.”

He wished Margaery had all the answers, but she doesn’t. She’s just as worried as he is, and he wasn’t helping by saying all of these things. Suddenly he feels bad for voicing his troubles and paranoid thoughts. She didn’t need the extra hurt. “I’m sorry,” he said. Running a hand over his face, he sighed. “I’m just wound up. I didn’t mean any of that. The therapist will help me, you don’t have to worry, okay?”

#th: not gonna make it on my own #type: thread #char: loras tyrell #tw: mental health #tw: eating disorder

As Loras questioned his therapists ability to fix him and she felt like she was the painfully thin 16 year old all over again. Letting a shiver run down her spine she pushed the thought away; she wasn’t that girl anymore, she was stronger now but she had only become stronger thanks to her therapy. “You honestly think Dad would send you to anyone less than the best?” She smiled gently across at Loras, Mace was well known for his generosity with his children. Sitting back in the chair she fixed Loras with a gentle stare, “Her job isn’t to protect you from the world, it’s to help you with different coping mechanisms to allow you to live happily and she will do that!” She wanted to crawl across the desk and shake Loras but she knew that she couldn’t. What he was feeling was completely normal, completely understandable. She sighed gently a sad little smile on her face as Loras apologised. “I’ll always worry about you, Loras.” She said quietly wanting to run her hand through his hair, “I even get paid for it now days.” She said with a grin.

matriarchofthorns

the boys are too refined [closed: olenna and margaery] [september 20]

matriarchofthorns

It takes a moment too long for Margaery to open the door. Olenna has just enough time to panic, thinking she’s missed her, when the door opens and she sees her granddaughter standing before her. Margaery leans in to kiss her cheek as she greets her and Olenna leans in politely. “Good morning, dear. Is everything alright?” Margaery pulls back and Olenna pinches her mouth in concern. “It’s a bit early to look so stressed already.”

Of course, she can’t say she blames her granddaughter. Everyone in the family is stressed, all the time, especially lately. With everything that is happening in the city and the country, it’s a wonder each of them is able to maintain any semblance of control. Olenna is proud of them, truly; she has decided to remain in London out of concern as well as a sense of need to control what might go wrong in the future, but other than the few major mishaps they’ve seen so far, the Tyrell family isn’t suffering as much as she would have expected.

She hopes, soon, that they can stop suffering altogether.

Her granddaughter lets her into the flat and Olenna steps over the threshold. A black jumper catches her eye almost immediately; it’s draped over the arm of the couch haphazardly and doesn’t look familiar to her. She arches a brow. “Has that boy never been taught how to clean up after himself? I know the Lannisters are wealthy, but I never thought they were lazy.”

#th: the boys are too refined #type: thread #char: Olenna Redwyne-Tyrell

Margaery covered her panic with a well-practised smile as she felt Olenna scrutinise her in the same way that she always did. Around anyone else Margaery would not have any concerns but with her Grandmother she was terrified of giving herself away. She was worried that Olenna saw things when she didn’t have any secrets let alone when she probably walked past her secret in the corridor. Recovering quickly Margaery smiled, “When I have to keep Renly and Loras in check it is never too early to look stressed.” She joked. If Olenna was allowed to look at the jumper for long enough she would notice the clear size difference between her lodger and the garment. Skipping past her grandmother Margaery grabbed the hoodie and looked at it, “He’s a very clean housemate, actually.” Margaery said. She wasn’t lying more avoiding the question. Walking across the living area Margaery opened the door to Tommen’s room and threw the jumper in quickly. She refused to look around the flat knowing that she would see more items that screamed her secret out. The kitchen would be safe she needed to get Olenna in there. “Would you like a drink?” She asked heading towards the kettle and praying that Olenna would follow her.th

Not Gonna Make it on my Own | Loras and Margaery | September 21st

He tried to smile as Margaery praised herself, but it came out a bit awkward, too tight on one side and without enough leverage on the other. He knew what was coming next was the problem— it was like sitting in the nurses office as she put the rubbing alcohol all over your arm, cool and almost stringing, before you had to wait as she uncapped the needle and pushed some of the liquid out. The wait was worse than the actual injection itself.

She eventually asked him, her eyes big and full of curiosity as they basically lay on Renly’s desk. Staring at her for a moment, he pressed his lips tight together and shrugged before looking away, down at a sticky-note that made his eyes go blurry. “It was alright…” he mumbled after a time, figuring that it was alright. It wasn’t great and it didn’t give him the answers he needed, but this type of stuff took time, even if he just wanted it over and done with— just wanted that quick injection without all the prep.

”It’s a woman that I’m seeing… she seems nice. Sort of reminds me a bit of mum. She just had me talk a bit about myself… about what I’ve been going through. She then had me fill out some tests for things… like anxiety and depression.” Sighing he sat up and stretched his arms out in front of him, wiggling his fingers as his shoulders popped. “I don’t have depression, but she thinks I’ve got anxiety issues and some… PTSD. I think that’s what it was.”

#th: not gonna make it on my own #type: thread #char: loras tyrell

Loras eventually opened up about his therapy session and Margaery let him speak. She sat up and to anyone else it would seem that the words were passing over her but Loras knew her better than that. Margaery never let anything wash over her passively; she remembered everything and filed it away for use later. Loras pulled his hand from hers and Margaery felt the loss for a second. He explained what had happened and Margaery remembered the same thing from her own time in therapy. Looking across at her brother she had never wanted to wrap him in a blanket and keep him safe more, the irony not lost on her. “That’s good.” She said clearing her throat, “That she can give you some indication of whats going on?” It was more of a question than a statement. If they knew what was going on then they could set him on the right path for recovery.

eugenep0rter-deactivated2019081

#picture #look at her pretty face #now i do replies

✆ Phone Call - Pyp Jameson (27th September) [Evening]

[Margaery is just off a phone call that had left her blood running cold. The Sun had pictures of her and Pyp together with a story to go along with it. 'What would the family think?' It was running tomorrow and did she have a quote? Resisting the urge to tell them to fuck off she declined. She was already on her way to Loras' to have the discussion she had been avoiding. Right now she needed to talk to Pyp. The phone rang three times and she was already tapping her foot impatiently as she grabbed her things from her desk and dropped them in her bag. When he finally answers she speaks impatiently.] Are you at the flat?

#char: pyp #type: phone call

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Tell me your secrets || Margaery & Pyp || 1st August 2012

[He catches the shift of Margaery’s shoulders when he puts the frame down. She curls into him when he finally lets his breath out. She looks sweet, she says and Pyp imagines she still is—a girl with brown hair and blue eyes, she’d be seventeen now, smiling and breaking hearts. This is the most he has thought about her in a long time.]

Our parents died. [This is the first time he’s ever told this story; the grave at the bottom of the lake he’s buried under years of silt and sand.] I was five, she was just a—she was babe. I haven’t seen her in years.

[God, he fucking wants a cigarette.]

#th: tell me your secrets #char: pyp #type: dialogue

[He carries on speaking and Margaery holds her breath afraid that any disturbance will stop the flow of words. She wants to tell him there is no need, she doesn't want to know the dirty little secrets that lurk in his past but he is an enigma that she wants to solve. Her fingers carry on pressing gently at the tense muscles in his back as he breaks her heart with his story. She was still alive. Margaery had assumed that she was dead, hadn't expected to hear that his parents were dead. She had heard him on the phone to his Mum though?] It must have been tough. [She scoffs at her own words.] Way to state the obvious [She says catching his eye as he chances a look at her. She aims for a look of amusement. Amusement at herself. She tries to pitch away from sympathy despite what she was feeling. Pyp would hate sympathy almost as much as he would pity.]

Tell me your secrets || Margaery & Pyp || 1st August 2012

[He wakes while she is still asleep—he slips out of bed, his skin goosepricking in the darkness as he slips out of the bed. Margaery Tyrell is naked, a blanket loosely clings to her body and she has her back turned to him. He watches her body rise and fall with her breath and thinks for a moment of how long he has waited for this—the defeat of her in his bed, her quietness as he finally draws her over the edge.

Pyp did not expect it like this, clouded with something else—a darkness over her that she is running from. He shakes himself and slips away to the bathroom, feeling the need to scrub his face and smoke a cigarette.

He splashes his face with water and rubs his palms over his face until they’re raw from the stubble across his cheeks. He grabs his lighter and pack of menthols off the bathroom sink and lights up, pushing open the window to blow smoke out into the London night.

When the cigarette is burning to it’s last embers, he snuffs it out and slips back into the room to find her awake, the heavy frame in hand. He stops dead when she speaks and aches for another cigarette. Pyp forces himself to walk to the bed and take the frame from her hands, setting back down on the bedside table, face down, before getting into bed next to her.]

She was my sister.