𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝐤𝖎𝖓𝖌.

gettin’  my  new  icons  &&  psd  &&  such  ready.

youngwolfed‌:

i’ve  got  another  job  interview  &&  work  today  but  i  will  send  out  memes  to  everyone  who’s  reblogged  them  when  i’m  home  !  xoxo

ty  all  sm  for  the  support  <333  i  have  a  final  interview  next  friday  and  am  stuck  in  scheduled  hell  at  current  work  till  then  but  i  have  a  day  off  tomorrow  so  i’m  hoping  for  replies  then  !

i’ve  got  another  job  interview  &&  work  today  but  i  will  send  out  memes  to  everyone  who’s  reblogged  them  when  i’m  home  !  xoxo

who: @youngwolfed​ where: robb’s chambers when: night time

The new keep that they had fled to after the Dragonstone attack was hard for Sansa to navigate. While some people mourned the dead, Sansa did not. Perhaps if it was someone else that died- Robb, her mother, Rickon, maybe even Theon. But Lysa? Sansa had grown to hate her over the time she spent with her in the Eyrie, and could not muster up any sympathy or grief for her.

The taps of her feet on the ground echoed down the corridor as she walked towards Robb’s chambers. Despite it being late at night, Sansa needed to discuss the fate of their cousin Robyn now that Lysa was dead. It was better that they got a hold of Robyn than Littlefinger. Her walking slowed once she came across the guards that were outside of Robb’s chambers. Sansa said nothing to them; she did not need their permission to visit her brother, the king. 

Sansa knocked hard on the door with the side of her first before she took it upon herself to open the door. 

               𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘  𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃’𝐒  𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐔𝐌  𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐒  𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌  𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃  𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆  as  robb  rises  from  hardened  seat.  oceanic  irises  stray,  the  dull  ache  of  his  cranium  augmenting  the  more  extensive  his  strategizing.  minuscule,  smithed  figurines  litter  his  makeshift  war  table,  but  it  no  longer  reflects  the  dissension  between  lion,  dragon,  and  wolf.  now  the  pieces  are  maneuvered  as  a  sole  strength,  a  massive  army  safeguarding  westeros’  borders  from  impending  annihilation.  slumber  between  traversing  encampments  has  been  astray  &&  unkind.  when  it  was  time  for  the  young  wolf  to  retire,  it  would  be  deceit  to  claim  he  did  not  warg  instead,  to  further  his  duties  without  question.

the  approach  of  footsteps  manifests  a  low  rumble  within  grey  wind’s  throat.  though  guards  are  posted,  his  life  is  his  own  to  keep.  digits  encompass  the  awaiting  hilt  of  his  sword,  prepared  to  brandish,  strike,  dispatch.  but  its  fiery  tresses  which  peer  through  the  egress  &&  lower  wielded  blade.  when  he’d  witnessed  his  sister’s  return  upon  dragonstone,  she  was  as  the  rest  of  them  were  :  changed.  often  he  recalled  his  vigilantly  comprised  plans  of  rescue,  and  how  they’d  been  derailed  by  an  unsuspected  traitor  ––  had  it  been  because  the  matriarch  had  known  her  son,  the  king,  would  slay  the  kingslayer  ?

               𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑  𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃  𝐇𝐀𝐃  𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃  𝐓𝐎  𝐀𝐒𝐇  ;  solemn  like  the  silent  drift  of  snow.  they  were  a  family  dismembered,  the  only  one  who  perhaps  held  familair  recognition  within  a  sapphiric  gaze  being  untamed  rickon.  he  was  no  longer  the  feral  youth  traversing  shadowed  crypts,  but  something  deadlier,  and  robb  thought  him  better  for  it  ––  there  was  no  room  for  pups  upon  a  moribund  earth,  where  the  gnash  of  fangs  &&  shred  of  flesh  bore  the  sole  promise  of  survival.  ❛  i  loved  our  father,  ❜  the  young  wolf  amends,  ❛  but  i  will  not  make  the  same  mistakes.  ❜  many  now  they  seemed  :  too  trusting,  too  loving,  too  forgiving.  ❛  and  at  the  end,  if  we  are  standing,  we  will  make  it  our  world  again.  ❜