—Words are Wind—

Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile. He used to mess my hair and call me “little sister,” she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.

            -- Arya of House Stark;
                     A Feast For Crows



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aryastarkling: I'm literally so in love with your blog that adskjfhaskjdflka can we please be best friends peace n blessins ok bye

Hi Katie, just so you know, I very rarely follow back but:

  • I visit your blog and the first thing I see is ‘love gendrya or perish’ (not a fan of the ship name but GOD AryaxGendry is my OTP even though happiness may be hopeless I am willing to long for it to happen)
  • You make pretty stuffs
  • Your first page is sprinkled with things I reblogged
  • You have a link for your ‘crying’ tag on you sidebar, I clicked it and and everything broke heart
  • You’re not a multi fandom blog (very important to me)
  • Your theme is cute and it doesn’t hurt my eyes
  • Your an emotional fangirl and so am I
  • You asked me to be your friend

Instant following you and prolly even stalking you from now on, you will not be able to make me stop, NOPE.

LC