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                                @motherstarkling​  [ ♥ ] for a STARTER

     He could have been confused for one of the many decorated figures throughout the city for how still Petyr stood by open gates. His hand found the bend of his arm while brows pinched in their inquisitive ambition; it was happening again, another piece seized and more to follow--one step closer to success, but how and where, what and why. So many little things, minute details which could end it all and make him king. Normally man fought against time, yet they are fools who lose and never learn if they are to succeed, alliance with one’s enemy is the true path towards end game.

     However the sound of soft steps and the smell of red wood, almost like cedar, slapped Petyr into a mental wall he hardly could vault. Of course it would be his stigma, his antagonist in this fairy tale story--a woman who could cleave his heart and pour bitter steel within drumming veins--his cat.  

     He smiled at her beauty, determined to keep his image to the past, and welcomed her with open arms, yet not one to hug.

                      “Why Cat, lovely as always, have you come to share more secrets with me you can’t divulge otherwise?” all meant in jest.

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crowncdcrow :

@lordxfcoin ;; starter call

       ❝ I’ve thanked you for your part in reclaiming Winterfell, and its hospitality is yours, but I must ask–– when EXACTLY will you be returning South, Lord Baelish ❞, he asked, barely trying to disguise the bitter hint of annoyance in his voice. 

     They’d been in the great hall for maybe ten minutes when Petyr’s hand caught on something and  gripped it lightly feeling how smooth the wood felt under his palm. He moved, slowly, around the massive chair while his hand slid the length of its soft arm--worn---deep brown, the same color as the bastard’s eyes on him. Petyr could recall exactly when bastards had given way to promise. But he wasn’t particularly surprised; he figured Snow would most likely be hidden in a dump of dead men, or bleeding out somewhere under a tree if it hadn’t been for him at the behest of his sweet sister. But he was surprised when the little houses of the North  began to chant and drift away for legitimacy in their reverence for a king as though they too were somehow part of a bigger game.

                    “Now would be the answer I would hope to say, however that decision is not yours to make as it is mine, Jon.”

     Petyr masked his genuine smile, leaned forward to have a seat, and basked in the moment of whose chair he accommodated.  

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//Online to do things here and then will scuttle to Ichabod.

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OVER THE GARDEN WALL SENTENCE STARTERS.

❝ Where…are we? ❞

❝ I-I think we’re lost! ❞

❝ Did you hear that? ❞

❝ Maybe I can help, I mean, you are lost, right? ❞

❝ What, in the world, is going on? ❞

❝ What are you doing here? Explain yourself! ❞

❝ You’re more lost than you realize. ❞

❝ Is there a beast out there? ❞

❝ Did you know that if you soak a raisin in grape juice, it turns into a grape? ❞

❝ You have beautiful eyes! ❞

❝ I want to steal. ❞

❝ Ain’t that just the way. ❞

❝ I’ll never give up. ❞

❝ I’m trying to help you! ❞

❝ I’ve got my own problems to take care of. ❞

❝ Well then…perhaps we better make a deal.❞

❝ Oh you wonderful mistake of nature! ❞

❝ You find this place as creepy as I do, right? ❞

❝ You’ll die some day, and I’ll laugh! ❞

❝ What if it’s not a ghost and I’m just…on the brink of madness? ❞

❝ What’s the matter? You seem tense. ❞

❝ You better be wise and don’t believe his lies. ❞

❝ It won’t open! Well…guess we gotta spend some quality time together. ❞

❝ It’s my fault we ended up here. Everything’s been my fault. ❞

❝ You can do anything if you set your mind to it! ❞

❝ Are you ready to see true darkness? ❞

❝ Hold your tongue or I’ll remove it from your mouth! ❞

❝ I really, really wanna see a ghost, really bad. ❞

❝ I’m not just gonna wander around the woods for the rest of my life. ❞

❝ If dreams can’t come true, then why not pretend? ❞

❝ We are just wayward leaves, scattered to the air by an indifferent wind. ❞

❝ Further and further, drifting away from where I want to be, who I want to be. ❞

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// sorry folks. Been busy being a cowardly constable on my Ichabod @constxblecrane . Feel free to follow if you'd like. Today I'll be on Petyr once I get home so I'll get to replies and starters. Thanks for your patience!

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Aidan Gillen mugging it up as Nelson Rathbone in Shanghai Knights

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reblog this if you don’t mind if your partner TAGS YOU in a post relating to your ships. 

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Aidan Gillen as Paul Serene is in the new game 2016 ‘Quantum Break’.

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            ‘And now she has them to share else where with unappreciated equivalence.’ He wanted to say, but Petyr would not contest how harsh the North’s true blood daughter’s bite is. There was little warmth to their current relationship which allowed humorous contentment and he doubted she would have felt a tickle. In fact if Petyr had to put symbolism into perspective, it would be the same as a lichen on a tree or the candle in his hand. At what point will she cease to burn? Prayer could attribute to her flame’s longevity if the Gods are kind, yet reality dictates there are multiple factors such as wick and wax.

     True as it may be, his current purpose and position was not one of folly and jovial visitation, but that out of urgent necessity, Lord Baelish made the best of this fortuitous opportunity, extending his invitation much unwelcome.

     Not a fortnight long was it he entertained his plans in the Eyrie; frigid spent days boorishly hosting Lords and Ladies on the politics of the Vale whispering encouragement of war as a consolation for peace. Lord Royce, whom forever grows more suspicious of his presence steadily, had not once raised his voice in argument and joined in his rally for excitement. Granted it had been a greater part of his plan to involve the Vale into the fray, but he hadn’t calculated how soon it would be. It was upon one laborious midday when he thought his nose would be lost in books had he received a raven with an important message.

              “The nights grow longer now that winter is here” he makes for a step or two ahead of Sansa before turning around “A man who is weak and susceptible to illness surely would not survive these ever growing algid days. Peculiar is it not that a man can last longer in the cold, yet die the fastest if he is not careful.”

     Petyr remained silent for two knocks of the wind. His hands, once folded into the other now smoothed the dark brocade fabric of his tunic as if to tug them lower to his feet. In comparison to Sansa, he hardly wrapped himself in furs and feathers. As a man accustomed to finery, silks of Southern tradition normally filled his garb. He hardly had a use for thicker wear, even living in the Vale prevented it. A wool caplet or robe perhaps on exception, yet nothing like the dark pelts which hung from her shoulders down to her waist his eyes traced. How beautifully they complimented her his lips twitched in symmetry to his hand, daring to pet the furs so he may feel them between his fingers–so alluringly soft they look nestled along her neck.

               “Farewell Lady Sansa” Petyr pronounced honorifics out of respect and for the spiders to hear “There is an early start awaiting me at dawn. I fear the more I remain awake, the less I will have for dreams.” he offers a shallow nod “and I do not want to limit my time with my queen.”

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Aidan Gillen by Frantzesco Kangaris (2015) 

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Truth is often hard to swallow, so we rest in comfortable lies and delusions.

Dorothy Anne Seese (via mediaexposed)

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deathless ♚ sentence meme

You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut, just that fast.

You are going to break your promise. I understand.

You’re lonely too.

It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be.

I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable.

I am your servant.

I crawl at your feet; for before your love, your kisses, I am debased.

For you alone I will be weak.

I belong here, and you will not deny me.

I say these things, and the world listens.

I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried.

In the dark, I have pored over the loss of you like pale gold.

I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories.

I moved the earth and the water for you.

You will always run away with her.

You will always lose her.

You will always be a fool.

You will always be dead, in a city of ice, snow falling into your ear.

You have already done all of this and will do it again.

No one should be judged for loving more than they ought, only for loving not enough.

We look terrible to you, and severe, and you see our blood flying.

What we carry between us is hard-won, and we made it just as we wished it to be, just the color, just the shape.

There need never be any rules between us.

Let us be greedy together; let us hoard.

Do not leave me, swear that you will never leave me.

I am selfish. I am cruel. My mate cannot be less than I.

Sleep with fists closed and shoot straight.

I can’t abide a poor liar.

You look like a winter’s night. I could sleep inside the cold of you.

Oh, quit that. Blushing is for virgins and Christians.

Scold me; deny me. Tell me you want what you want and damn me forever. But don’t leave me.

Bad luck relies on absolutely perfect timing.

In his own country, Death can be kind.

What is the world but a boxing ring where fools and devils put up their fists?

Men die. It’s practically what they’re for.

I am no one; I am nothing.

Nothing in me was not made by you.

A revelation is always the end of something. It might even be cause for grief.

Just tell yourself a story that’ll satisfy you and pretend he told it.

Forever isn’t bright; it isn’t like that. Forever is cold and hard and final.

I savor bitterness - it is born of experience. It is the privilege of one who has truly lived.

If you want to kill yourself, do not use us as your knife.

What did I do wrong? Was I boring? Did I ignore you?

Don’t you dare speak to me like that.

I have worn nothing but blood and death for years.

I have fought all your battles for you, just as you asked me.

I have learned not to cry when I strangle a man.

I have learned to watch everything die.

I am not a little girl anymore, dazzled by your magic. It is my magic, now, too.

Are we not devils?

No one is now what they were before the war.

I have not seen you without your skin on.

Close up your head; your brain is getting loose.

We obsess. It’s in our nature.

I’ve a devil of a habit for being right.

In war you must always choose sides.

If you try to be a bridge laid down between them, they will tear you in half.

We are all dead. All equal. Broken and aimless and believing we are alive.

My old bones will follow yours soon enough.

It is better to be strong and cruel than to be fair.

I will see him with his skin off before I agree to fall in love.

After love, no one is what they were before.

I have survived, but I have not been spared.

In the space of one heartbeat to another I loved you and I was lost to you.

Frighten me, make me cry, only come back.

It’s not so bad, my darling. Being dead. It’s like being alive, only colder.

You’ll think it’s love, while he dines on your heart.

You will be so beautiful when you are old.

I cannot keep you and I cannot let you go.

You will live as you live in any world…with difficulty, and grief.

I look at you and it is like my throat being cut.

She said you’d come and I swore to eat your heart.

I still want to kiss you.

My heart is being cut in two. I cannot bear it.

What happens to anything beautiful?

I have to know, I have to or else you will just rule me until the end of everything because you know and I do not.

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                               @worshipsonlydeath [ ♥ ] for a STARTER 

     In a small corner of Westeros, in the borough of the Riverlands, a thief lay hidden in the trees. There wasn’t anything particularly alluring or attractive about this thief, nothing which gave alert or fright as it were a child no more than the age of one and ten. However it was the creature’s eyes who held the gaze of a man who saw death. It wasn’t uncommon. Not among the forgotten and lost, but it was an eerie sort of look which Petyr had never forgotten when he was just a boy.

     Or now.

     Even as he stood before this girl, the youngest Stark girl, he can ill conceive relation in comparison to those of the child king Joffrey or that of the Bolton bastard.

     In the dawn of that early Autumn, Petyr watched from the shadows of Weirwood trees upon the killing child whom carved a pregnant scar of fear into resolve. And just as then as a boy, he did not move. Habitually he twitched a short smirk, raised his hands in peace, and dared a step forward for he, if not anything, was a gambling man who played only triumphant hands.

                         “I know who you are child” cautiously one foot moves in front of the other, never dropping his gaze from this predator “I knew your mother, your father, and also your sister. Though you could say your enemies share this knowledge, know mine is truth and that I am on your side. Only a daughter of Eddard Stark could handle a sword just as good as her brother and I am positive you desire to know where they are.”

     It was daft, near suicide to challenge her in bravery. But if experience hadn’t fortified him at a young age, facing a Stark equated to death--yet Petyr took his chances--hoping the Tully blood flowing through this girl's veins is as loyal as their mantra for family. That the enticement of a family reunion would take the target off his life and change for one towards camaraderie.

                           “I can take you to them.”

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                                        @skincfsteel  [ ♥ ] for a STARTER

     It would happen again tonight: the thing which made wisdom physically appear. This man had no doubt. It had started perhaps when the stories no longer held their weight, and now, with his youth gone, there was no one to stop it.

     From his position in front of the dire wolf tapestry he could hear them walking, pacing as they kept small talk minimal. It was likely the fit of some hand maiden lamenting over her future, as it were his luck drew the stubbornly ill. She was muttering to herself, cursing the lack of coin no longer lining her pockets, the man whom left her cold, the old Gods and the new, and the Starks who grew brave in their conquest of trust. To hell and back this hand maiden cursed them...

     And Petyr Baelish was no exception.

     There came the fresh sound of glass breaking in the kitchen, then another, and another. His knuckles began to turn white because for all the curses she could scream--it was her he heard defaced. He desperately wished he hadn’t heard what she said, then she would at least be spared the life she could have lived. But now he knew there would be peace tonight, for it was his job, his duty to assist in the clean up; a dirty job for a dirty little man:

                                Only a fool would trust Littlefinger.

     Twice he would feel that pain again tonight, the second by his own recollection. He hadn’t expected to hear those words from her mouth, reiterated bitterly as told by his cronie pledged to the black.

     Nevertheless, it still meant she held more to him than he had made himself to be, more than he could scheme. The flickering light from the candles silhouetted him as he held hands tightly behind his back and with a crookedly smile, bade the loud woman goodnight. For this night, her last night, only the night and her executioner will witness her last foggy breathe in winter winds.

     It was at the sudden jump of shadows Petyr exited down a deft corridor. He would retire to his chambers exhausted but not without addressing the lady whom seemed as much a night owl as he.

                                “Lady Sansa” he says smoothly to her “I fear if you are looking for your handmaiden to fill your cup tonight, you may be disappointed. I recall seeing her leave into the night. Though I doubt she may return.”

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[ ♥ ] for a STARTER