#gotgraphics

Favorite Female Characters: Margaery Tyrell → “I want to be the Queen.”

— ‘Stripping Lunaria,’  by Chrystos

#Lit AF

#How this reunion pretty much happened

#That Was Stone Cold

      "othor,” announced ser jaremy rykker, “beyond a doubt. and this one was jafer flowers.” he turned the corpse over with his foot, and the dead white face stared up art the overcast sky with blue, blue eyes. “they were ben stark’s men, both of them.” my uncles men,  jon thought numbly. he remember how he’d pleaded to ride with them. gods, i was such a green boy. if he had taken me, it might be me lying here...       in the blink of an eye, jon had vaulted onto the table, dagger in his hand. pyp made a grab for him, but he wrenched his leg away, and then he was sprinting down the table and kicking the bowl from ser allister’s hand. stew went flying everywhere, spattering the brothers. throne recoiled. people were shouting, but jon snow did not hear them. he lunged at ser allisetr’s face with the dagger, slashing at those cold onyx eyes, but sam threw himself between them and before jon could get around him, pyp was on his back clinging like a monkey, and grenn was grabbing his arm while toad wrenched the knife from his fingers.       ghost leapt. man and wolf went down together with neither scream nor snarl, rolling, smashing into a chair, knocking over a table laden with papers. mormont’s raven was flapping overhead, screaming, “corn, corn, corn, corn.” jon felt as blind as maester aemon. keeping the wall to his back, he slid toward the window and ripped down the curtain. moonlight flooded the solar. he glimpsed black hands buried in white fur, swollen dark fingers tightening around his direwolf’s throat. ghost was twisting and snapping, legs flailing in the air, but he could not break free.         the direwolf wrenched free and came to him as the wight struggled to rise, dark snakes spilling from the great wound in its belly. jon plunged his hand into the flames, grabbed a fistful of the burning drapes, and whipped them at dead man. let it burn, he prayed ts the cloth smothered the corpse, gods, please, please, let it burn.

     bran’s cloak billowed out, rippling in the wind, and the snow seemed to rush at his face. robb was well ahead, glancing back over his shoulder from time to time to make sure bran and the others were following. he snapped the reins again. smooth as silk, dancer slid into a gallop. the distance closed. by the time he caught robb on the edge of the wolfswood, two miles beyond the winter town, they had left the others well behind. “i can ride!” bran shouted, grinning. it felt almost as good as flying.      once he was gone, the woods seemed to close in around bran. the snow was falling more heavily now. where it touched the ground it melted, but all about him rock and root and branch wore a thin blanket of white. as he waited, he was conscious of how uncomfortable he felt. he could not feel his legs, hanging useless in the stirrups, but the strap around his chest was tight and chafing and the melting snow had soaked through his gloves to chill his hands. he wondered what was keeping theon and maester luwin and joseth and the rest.      robb shouted, “winterfell!” and kicked his horse. the gelding plunged down the bank as the ragged men closed. a man with an axe rushed in, shouting and heedless robb’s sword caught him full in the face with a sickening crunch and a spray of bright blood. the man with the gaunt stubbly face made a grab for the reins, and for half a second he had them... and then grey wind was on him, bearing down. he fell back into the stream with a splash and a shout, flailing wildly with his knife as his head went under water. the direwolf plunged in after him, and the white water turned red where they had vanished.

Oswald Cobblepot and Jaime Lannister sinking in the watery depths + Ivy Pepper and Bronn saving them respectively in their next episodes