House Baelish.

.

[littlzbird-archive]

you can love a character & still admit when they're wrong. i love sansa stark but i acknowledge her flaws (none shes perfect) & can hold her accountable for her wrong doings (shes never done anything wrong in her life) & call her out on her actions (which are always right)

[beatingwoundedwings]

when all is said and done, you sit in the courtyard and heave until you think your bones might break.

you are not fragile, not like you were: your brittle bird’s bones are reinforced with the very same steel that coats your tongue. you are not fragile, but you close your eyes and his blood is red against the black of your eyelids, and it could be anyone’s.

his blood looks just like anyone’s, your wonderfully clever man with his wicked sharp tongue, and somehow that seems the greatest injustice of all. that could be anyone’s blood, but it was not anyone’s body that toppled to the floor, and it was not anyone who gave the killing order, and it was not anyone’s fault, because it was yours.

a lifetime ago, someone else was told not to give orders they could not fulfil, that judges should prove themselves executioners. that was not your lesson to learn— if it had been, he’d still be breathing; you would never have had the courage to wield the blade yourself.

it was not anyone; it was you and it was him, because it was always you and him— he shaped you, taught you, placed his fingers in your skull and rearranged the pieces; you will forever bear him carved into the ivory of your bones.

even after all this, you owe him everything; you owed him everything and this is how you repaid him.

his blood is on your hands, no, his blood is on the floor and on the blade and in your eyes, and you’re hunched over a bench in the snow as the bile does not come. there are forms of rot you can’t cut out.

he is dead. you would think this means it will never be you and him again, but some things transcend the boundaries between life and death, and there is still a debt between you. it will always be you and him, and part of you will always be retching in the snow with his blood in your eyes.

the last time you stood like this, he kissed you. now the chill makes ribbons of your skin, and those tears you’ve been holding back threaten to choke you, and you make a silent vow:

you will never stand here again.

[praiseandcharm]

Too long you’ve wandered in winter Far from my fathering gaze You resist Yet your soul obeys

[trodartist]

I finally finished it two months later.

[acatofimpossiblecolor]

[mockingbirdsigil]

I'll haunt the world inside you. (standalone snippet of a Petyr/Sansa Phantom of the Opera fusion AU. can also be found on ao3.)

“She cannot stay here like a leech upon this property. She has neither prospects nor skill, to say nothing of style. She’s a waste.”

You are aware that Sansa is not quite out of earshot, and so is damnable Cersei. It’s regrettable, that you were not able to engineer this scene any other way.

The stone paperweight you dropped from the apex of the ceiling ten seconds ago glances, just barely, against that perfect Lannister cheekbone, and the lady shrieks. Then the paperweight hits the floor with a bang.

The note tied to it by black ribbon is stamped in your usual style, and when the assembly catches sight of the avian skull, a murmuration and then a hush passes through the room. Some heads turn skyward, but you are already gone.

Varys is, as ever, the only one willing to read your missive aloud, and does so with disarmingly good humor:

“Good fortune can spring from the direst beginnings, and ill fate can blossom in even the richest gardens. Management may consider Sansa Stark a charm toward my favor, if it suits you. Above all, she is not to be cast from this place. Fail to heed me, and this House will be razed until nothing is left. I remain, lords and ladies, your humble Opera Ghost.”

Even before he does so, you are on the move, down and down; if you are very careful, you can make it into the hollow section where the ceiling meets the wall nearest to Sansa before….

There is a pause, after which everyone begins to talk at once. Cersei, rallying, snarls impressively over the din, “I will not be cowed by a—!”

You can’t hear it, but you know what’s interrupted her: the paperweight by her feet bursting into flames. It will have scorched her shoes and the hem of her dress. Judging by the noise, it’s sent her spinning, frantic with rage. You hope, for a foolish instant, that it’s made Sansa smile.

In a few more moments, the fire will douse itself elegantly under the weight of its own ashes, leaving only smoke and a charred reminder on the floor.

You put your mouth to the crack in the wall, and you murmur, “Run along now, Miss Stark. Quickly. You aren’t here.”

She goes, and you know she must be yours.

By your own means, you follow.

[moffnat]

Can you be my daughter in your heart? I am Alayne, father. Who else would I be?        Happy (super late) birthday, @etherina!

[germanich]

[geniusofthelamptimes]

what do you want of her?

[zhmurrka]

He's so snarky in the books I canttt

[moffnat]

— ᴡʜᴏ ᴇʟsᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪ ʙᴇ?

[acatofimpossiblecolor]

[claudraws34]

I very often forget that i have a tumblr account ngl BUUUUT.....ive unlocked a new hyperfixation so here i am again lol

[treecitysessions]

There was girls in the comments saying she saved their lives with this video

[czesca]

characters who are so inauthentic. characters who only show what they want other people to see of them. characters who simply must have control over every part of themselves. do you even get it

[lobanhart]

sansa stark & petyr baelish

commission for @sugarintheraw ❤

I hope it's alright, really

[rosecrystal]

When someone asks what my hobbies are