he is grenn

Grenn x Pyp +2

9

Whew finally got to answer this!  This one is pretty long but I think it’s gives a good feel for how the three of them interact.

On another note, despite Garett’s best intentions, crashing is the far more likely option even if he can carry Grenn.  Rais can’t even fly by himself so he’d never be able to pull it off.

*Rais is peculiar about language.  Also anon you certainly know how to pick that question!

sabotensan  asked:

Grenn x Pyp, 30. Under the Rain

Part of Drabbleverse.

Grenn was very drunk by the time that they got into the car, his eyes glazed, his mouth hanging open.

“You don’t think he’ll vomit, will he?” Sam asked, clambering into the back of Pyp’s station wagon.

“If he does, I’ll kill him,” muttered Pyp, glancing over his shoulder to check for traffic.  It was late–much later than he knew that Sam had intended to be out, and even though it was raining, Pyp drove a little faster than he probably should have to get Sam home.  He lived further from the bar than Grenn did, but Grenn wouldn’t notice, and Grenn had given up the right to complain, frankly.  There was no one on the road, and Pyp knew how to handle hydroplaning.  He wasn’t worried.

The lights in Sam’s apartment were on when they got there, and Sam waved goodbye tiredly as he got out of the car without a word.  Grenn started when he slammed the door.

“What?  Where?  Who?”

“Getting you home,” said Pyp.

“Pyp?”

“Yes, that’s me,” said Pyp.  

“Oh.  Good.”  Grenn made as if he were chewing the air, frowning slightly.  "How long?“

"How long till what?” Pyp asked, pulling back out onto the road.

“Home?  Need to piss.”

“Ten minutes.  Maybe less,” Pyp replied.

“Need to piss now, Pyp,” said Grenn.

Pyp rolled his eye and pulled over to the side of the road.  It was still raining, though not as heavily as before.  The thunder had stopped as well, so he couldn’t really say it was too dangerous.  He put the car in park, and Grenn pushed open the door and almost fell onto the ground.

“Oh, you great idiot,” sighed Pyp, unbuckling and getting out on his side.  He rounded the car quickly, helping Grenn to his feet.  "Can you do it on your own?“ he asked.

"Yes,” said Grenn emphatically, stumbling over to a tree.  Pyp rolled his eyes and turned away so, keeping his eye on the road in case someone drove by and he had to think up some sort of quick excuse.

“Pyp,” called Grenn.

“Yes Grenn?”

“You’re the best, you know that?”

Pyp would have smiled, except he was cold and wet and tired and hadn’t gotten to drink this evening because he was the one driving everyone home.

“Thanks, Grenn,” he said.

“I mean it–you really are.  Better than everyone else.  Best in the world.”

“It would mean a lot more if you said that when you weren’t taking a piss,” said Pyp.

“Well, I’m saying it now because I can.  I’m drunk.  And you’re supposed to say things you mean when you’re drunk.”

“You more than anyone.  You about done?  It’s still raining.”

Grenn stumbled back from the tree and wrapped his arms around Pyp.  It was a tight hug, and for a moment, Pyp was afraid his ribs would break.

“Best friend,” said Grenn.  "The very best.“  And he pressed a kiss to Pyp’s lips.

Dear D&D,

When you were first given the privilege to turn A Song of Ice and Fire into a TV show, the fans placed a certain trust in you.

We trusted you to bring it to life, to give the characters faces all of us could see, and to let us live the story all over again. We were excited to see where you would go with it and to see some of our favorite (and most hated) scenes on screen. We trusted you with the characters we love dearly.

But you have betrayed that trust we gave to you.

Pyp and Grenn were not supposed to die tonight. They lived through the battles and the war, but that was not what I saw on my screen.

What I saw was two characters I held dear to my heart killed only to make the audience sad and give the other characters something to angst about.

They weren’t just some flat one-episode characters you could do with as you please. They were there since book one and lived throughout all five published to date: Pyp, who always found a way to make jokes and keep things light-hearted, and Grenn, who despite his quick temper turns out to be one of the most kind-hearted and good men of the Night’s Watch.

They are some of Jon’s best friends and go on to do more in the books, see more, be more, than what the show has given them.

What I’m trying to say is that this is not your story, D&D. Sure, it is yours to take care of, to breathe a new life into, to bring it to our eyes, but it is not YOURS. This isn’t your story, and these aren’t your characters to kill. They are George R.R. Martin’s and he let Pyp and Grenn live. If you wanted people to kill, make your own characters, but let these ones be.

Now I understand that you had to give the battle the severity it deserved, but there were so many other ways. Why choose this? Why kill characters who aren’t meant to be killed?

You’ve made bad decisions and poor choices before, but this was the last straw for me.

Grenn and Pyp deserved better than you.

~Anyone Who Cared About Two Brothers Of The Night’s Watch Who Dared To Be Friends Of Lord Snow

Title: Skin
Word Count: 1672
Pairing: Jon x Sansa
Summary: Tattoo artist Jon faces his toughest customer yet when he meets Sansa Stark.

The skin of her wrist is soft as he turns it over in his hand, a pale cream over a tartan network of blueish veins which look so delicate beneath his fingers. His bitten nails and ink stains that never seem to leave his hands look filthy in comparison and he releases her in seconds. “Are you sure about this?” her friend asks, looking up from her phone for the first time since they arrived  and eyeing him with distrust.

“Of course I am!” she snaps in return, shooting her friend a look.

 “It’s awfully permanent is all,” the friend replies and Jon buries himself in reading over the customer’s release form. Sansa Stark, it reads, and he notes that her handwriting is as delicate as her skin, barely leaving a dent in the page. Scrawling his own signature across the bottom of the page, he looks up, his eyes asking the silent question of whether she would like to proceed.

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I picked Grenn up less than 24 hours ago & I’m already in love. HE IS THE SWEETEST LITTLE THING. He’s gonna come out for playtime today with what will hopefully be his new friends!

(please note that I would not normally start introductions the day after picking up a rat–they usually need more time to settle in. Grenn is super chill & happy & he came from a pet home, not a store, so I know he is healthy.)

Yelling that a black brother needed a horse, Pyp leapt onto Grenn’s shoulders, and they tumbled to the ground, rolling and punching and hooting.

 

He heard Grenn whispering behind him. “There’s no godswood here. Is there? I never saw a godswood.”

“You wouldn’t see a herd of aurochs until they trampled you into the snow,” Pyp whispered back.

“I would so,” Grenn insisted. “I’d see them a long way off.”

 

“The sword,” Grenn stated. “We want to see the sword.”

Jon raked them with an accusing look. “You knew.”

Pyp grinned. “We’re not all as dumb as Grenn.”

“You are so,” insisted Grenn. “You’re dumber.”