why you all greasy and nervous

Northern Election 2k17 Sansa Vs Jon

Petyr Baelish sauntered into a room where he had managed to find Sansa 

“Excited for the premier of Captain Westoros: Civil war? Choose a side. I’ve already bought my tickets. Team Stark.”

Sansa eyed him cautiously “Remind me why you’re still here and I haven’t had you strung up by your greasy moustache hairs yet?”

He shrugged “Still alive in the books. I’m probably important to the narrative.”

“Bet that’s what Stannis told himself last season.”

“Aren’t you at all interested in swinging this election?” he asked.

“No, I’m-” her body twitched violent in a nervous tick “-Completely fine with it. Me and Jon had at least three meaningful glances, we’re great friends now, I would never go behind his back.”

“Have you already forgotten this?”

Baelish held up a crumpled note in Sansa’s hand writing that read ‘Sorry for threatening to kill u, pls come immediately, will show left tit for army xoxo’

Sansa looked pressed “Desperate times called for desperate measures.”

“Does that mean you’re trying to get out of your promise?”

“I thought seeing me breaking promises and lying would have been a reward in itself.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ve been sporting a semi since you threatened to kill me a few episodes ago, but a bit of left titted action wouldn’t go astray either.”


“What about the right one?”

“Look, I’m grateful for the Gandalf moment you helped me pull, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.” She said, folding her arms over her chest.

“Something, something, since you got off your horse…”



Just then Davos entered the room.

“My lady, King Snow has placed you in an honored position besides him in the great hall, as a sign of his respect for you as his equal and beloved sister.”

Sansa turned smugly to Littlefinger “Hear that? Respected equal. Me and Jon are getting along just fine.”

“-and he’s also asked me to inform you that he’s scrapped lemon cakes from the menu and we’ll be having bread and butter pudding for dessert instead.”

Her fist pounded onto the table “Who in the seven hells does that up-jumped bastard think he is!”

Baelish looked delighted “Stark civil war?”

“FUND IT.” She screamed “I refuse to be the Jan to Jon’s Marsha, I am the Marsha, always!”

Davos looked shocked “Sibling rivalry turned to war? Surely not!”

“Says the man who worked for the Baratheons.”

A chair appeared out of nowhere just so Davos could take a fucking seat.

Sansa pointed a finger at Baelish “And you’re going to help me run my campaign, aren’t you?”

“Only if I get to be your Monica Lewinsky.” He said, already climbing under a desk.

Davos narrowed his eyes at him “I bet even after the invasion of evil ice zombies, you’re still going to be known as the sleaziest evilest villain in the entire series.”

Littlefinger crossed his little fingers.

tsubulle  asked:

heard there was some cocoa and cookies ? I want cocoa and cookiesssssssss ! I bet Nico and Will want some too XD for the prompt maybe Will being pissed cause Nico is shadow traveling right and left to get ppl stuff but what he doesn't know is that Nico is trading everything against stuff like "I'm gettinf u that 3DS BUT you have to stay clear from the infirmary for a month" so Will can get some rest from his medic duty ?

Yes, hi, cocoa and cookies for you! ♥
Thank you so much for the prompt! You’re my Percy Jackson ramble buddy. ♥

“You smell of curly fries,” says the corner of his bed, Will’s elbows dipped as he’s toying with the beads of his necklace, worn and warm, his jacket unzipped and somewhere between being worn and not and Will’s mouth looks hostile, looks like he’s hiding emotions that can’t hold up a smile, properly, and Nico closes the door, with a sigh.

“I’m tired,” he says, dismissive, and he is; he wants that bed, for himself, he wants it to be empty and invitingly cool and while the lingering presence of Will is something he loves to indulge in, he was falling asleep halfway to his cabin, like the shadows fed on his substance and left him emptier than he’s been before, trying to take out the living out of him, keep the ghost of him in and Nico wearily toes off his boots; Will sits up in his bed.

“Using your powers continuously without proper rest does that to you,” Will tells him, as if Nico doesn’t feel it, himself, the cabin colder in seconds, the summery night withering into autumn mornings, drowsy and cold.

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