1 year ago on 12 April 2013 @ 5:23am + 54 notes
via debbieneedstostrut (originally debbieneedstostrut)
1 year ago on 12 April 2013 @ 5:22am + 458 notes
via theelliedoll (originally theelliedoll)

He took a song and a kiss and left me nothing but a bloody cloak.

1 year ago on 16 September 2012 @ 7:38am + 294 notes
via sandorclegane (originally sandorclegane)
# GoT
# art

cabout:

shisha im trapped

the-young-lion:

“…this was a bitter tormented soul, a sinner who mocked both gods and men. He served but found no pride in service. He fought but took no joy in victory. He drank, to drown his pain in a sea of wine. He did not love, nor was he loved himself. It was hate that drove him. Though he committed many sins he never sought forgiveness…”

1 year ago on 3 July 2012 @ 8:06am + 2 notes
Bonjour! I'm new in the Sansan fandom so I wanted to ask you if you could perhaps help a desperate shipper find some good fanfictions. Hope I'm not bothering you c: Thank you anyway!

Not a bother at all and sorry to be so late in answering

there are a lot of great ones on archiveofourown.org and the sansaxsandor community on lj has some great ones as well :)

1 year ago on 28 June 2012 @ 7:00am + 6 notes
Anonymous
Hey ! May be spoiler here (currently reading a Storm of Sword so...). Anyway, I have to ask : Did he or did he not kiss her after the battle ? I read the chapter twice and it says nothing happened but in the next book Sansa says he did. I am puzzled !

He did not kiss her.  Don’t worry, I had to do the same thing.  GRRM has stated that Sansa is an “unreliable narrator” and that the misremembered kiss will “eventually mean something”

source - http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/UnKiss

Sorry for the late reply anon, I’ve been very busy lately!  Hope you are enjoying the books

xo

queeninthenorth

1 year ago on 20 June 2012 @ 11:23pm + 3,354 notes
via thegoddessofthorns (originally samheughan)
Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. “Little bird,” he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone.