#queerparisgeller

OK--I started posting @planlessfic to AO3.  

Sansa is/was “Alayne Stone,” a pop star whose “father” Petyr Baelish was her manager and not actually her dad. She’s an open/cold missing persons case, and Brienne (of) Tarth and Sandor Clegane have been working on it for literally years. They have a fluke moment of “holy shit, Alayne Stone is totally Sansa Stark” and the new cop on their team, Podrick Payne, goes undercover and they solve it.

Here’s how the breakdown works:

Even Before - I’m not sure how many drabbles will go into that one, but I had one that took place right after Sansa’s disappearance and it was so much earlier than the rest of the action that I wanted to keep it in a separate thing.  Not sure how much from that “time period” I want to deal with; we’ll see.  But it’s there.

Before You Say Goodbye - The stuff that takes place before/while Pod is undercover.  

When You Say Goodbye - The oneshot that Ruined Everything by not staying a oneshot.

After You Say Goodbye - In which Sansa deals with the fallout of being Sansa again.  And probably some other stuff too.  

Other stuff:

How to send in prompts

5. What’s your favorite headcanon you use in fics?

oh man definitely my gendry footfetish headcanon.

6. What’s the detail you wait on bated breath for readers to notice?

MY HEART

She is at the precinct all night.  After Pod leaves, Brienne Tarth comes back in with a cup of coffee and a recording device and asks if she’d be willing to make a statement. 

Her eyes flit to the two-way mirror.  She’s sure Pod is back there.  She’s sure he’s still watching her.  Her stomach twists.  You were my friend, she thinks.  Was it a lie? 

Is it all lies, forever and ever and ever?

Pod isn’t supposed to be a liar.  He’s supposed to be honest.  The good kind of honest.  The kind of honest that made her feel safe, like when she was a girl, like when Ned--when her father was still alive. 

She swallows. 

“Sansa?” Brienne asks carefully. 

“Sorry,” she hears herself say.  It’s late.  She’s tired.  She’s upset.  She’s...she’s not sure.  She’s not sure of anything.  Not sure who she is.

“Of course,” Brienne says.  Good cop, bad cop, lying cop.  That’s what that team is.  “It’s late.  Maybe you should go home and come back in tomorrow?”

Is it even my home?  It was bought with his money.  And Alayne’s. 

Alayne doesn’t have green eyes anymore.

She nods, and pulls out her phone and...who does she have?  Who can she text?  She doesn’t want to go back there, and she can’t bear to face Mya, or Myranda, and...god, Harry.  Where is Harry?  She doesn’t even know if she can ask that right now.

“Sansa?”

Every time she says the word Sansa, she feels like she’ll cry.  I’m not, she thought.  Not anymore.  I can’t be.  Not again.

The door opens and she sees Pod come in.  He’s scruffy--not so much a five o’clock shadow as a three in the morning shadow.  Liar, she thinks, and her cheeks are wet.  Liar, but I’m here.  And they’re alive.

But am I?  Who am I?

I’m Alayne, father.  Who else would I be?

Pod’s crossing the room, and kneeling down next to her, and gently, she feels him take her hand.  “You’re not alone,” he whispers to her.  “You’re not.”

He’s so close, and he smells like his deodorant wore off hours ago, and it’s tangy in her nose.  He smells like Pod, and all she can think as she looks at him is how he’s a liar, but he’s not--not really.  He had a reason.  If she’s a liar, why can’t he be a liar too, and if he’s a liar, maybe he won’t hate her for lying the way everyone else will and--and--

She wants to hold him so close she can feel his heart pounding against her chest. 

“We’ll get you home safely,” Brienne says.  “I’m headed up towards Andersonville.  I’ll give you a ride, if you’d like.”

“I don’t see how it’s a conflict of interest.”

“Mrs. Stark was your professor in college, Brienne.”  Professor Stark, Brienne corrects internally.  Professor of literature.  She focused on Arthurian mythology.

“So?  That’s not going to affect my search for her murderer.”

“Brienne...” Jaime’s face is somber.  “Brienne, it was a car accident.  There’s no way someone could have orchestrated it.  This is exactly what I’m talking about.”  Brienne glowers at him.  “It’s a closed case, Brienne.  Vehicular manslaughter.  No witnesses.” 

Brienne looks down at her hand, then through the plate glass window out into the bullpen.  She sees Edmure Tully there, Professor Stark’s younger brother.  He looked so young, his face was pale, and his eyes the same shade of blue.  Sitting on his lap was a little girl with a long face and dark hair.  Her eyes were grey and red.  She’d been crying.  Arya.  Brienne had met her when she’d been a baby. 

“What about Sansa?”

Jaime shifts uncomfortably.  “We’ve got a team working on her,” he says. 

“I want to be on it,” she says.  “That’s not a conflict of interest.  She’s actually missing.”  It is, but Brienne has to...has to do something. 

do the sexy love™ with

sooni out of all of them tbh. she’s so incredibly beautiful and i love her a lot.

sacrifice myself for

IAN MCLEOD MY SMALL SCOTTISH SON I WOULD DIE FOR YOU

kick

ralphie needs a good kick up the ass tbh

take to prom

aafrin i guess? he’s pretty anyway

abandon in jurassic park

sinthia (also known as cynth pop) although tbh i wouldn’t be surprised if she was a match for the dinosaurs

push off a bridge

“Alayne Stone’s not even a real person.  She’s like a barbie doll who can’t sing.  Totally fake.”  Alayne’s voice is neutral, her face betrays no sign of upset, nothing, and Pod glances between Mya’s camera and the one from the show.  The producer is trying not to look woefully disappointed.  The whole point of “celebrities reading mean tweets about themselves” is that the tweet is supposed to garner some reaction, isn’t it? 

“That it?” Alayne asks politely, and the producer shifts uncomfortably.  No, Pod can see.  That’s not it.  He wanted her to look upset, to be hurt.  But before he replies, Alayne steps out of the shot and waves to him.

“Thanks,” the producer sputters, and Mya snorts, shutting the camera off.

“You’re not upset?” Pod asks Alayne as they leave the studio, grabbing coats and hats and gloves to protect them from the icy wind outside.

Alayne shrugs.  “Not really.  I mean.  There is an Alayne Stone Barbie Doll, so it’s not like they are wrong on that front... though they are wrong about my not being able to sing, but it’s not my problem that they haven’t got taste.” 

“Yeah, but what about you being fake?” Pod asks, watching her closely.

Alayne glances at him, straightening her scarf over her face.  He can only see her eyes--green and guarded.  Green where they should be blue.  “Doesn’t hit me where it hurts,” she shrugs, and he can’t make out her face anymore behind the thick wool of the scarf.  Her voice is muffled.

“What does hit you where it hurts, then?  What should he have picked as a tweet?”

Alayne’s eyebrows rise. 

“Sorry,” Pod says quickly.  “Wasn’t thinking--that was rude--I mean...sorry.”

“No,” Alayne says quietly.  “No it’s fine.  No one’s ever asked me that before is all.”