izzy's playlists!
noise dept.
Keni
Cosimo Galluzzi
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
No title available
Sade Olutola
No title available
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
if i look back, i am lost
Discoholic 🪩
pixel skylines
art blog(derogatory)
Show & Tell
Phantogram Three
Game of Thrones Daily
h
Origami Around
Not today Justin
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
seen from France
seen from Israel
seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from Indonesia
seen from T1
seen from France
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Australia
seen from Ecuador
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
@deathsgrief-blog
ooc. this is just a general apology for taking so long to get to replies for messages and threads!!!! I’m still recovering from comic con, but I swear I’m working on drafts on here and on my other accounts! as always, my inbox is open but I’m just taking my time catching up atm. thanks for your patience!!!
i have g r e e t e d dear
A G O N Y
i have clasped hands with
D E A T H
one is my
D E S T I N Y
the other is my
F R I E N D
[ wrxngeyes ]
She screamed, loud and piercing, a trembling hand covering her mouth to muffle her shrieks. He was dead; she’d been told he was dead – Gregor Clegane, he had thrust a lance through his chest during the Battle at the Mummer’s Ford. Jeyne had mourned him, wept for him, even though Beric Dondarrion never even knew her name.
It'd taken a certain level of cunning and an inordinate amount of vigilance for the Brotherhood Without Banners to survive and fight for as long as they did. Having men posted at several points to watch the perimeter of their camp for the night was one routine tactic.
Anguy was the first to spot the figure climbing the hill, whistling to gain the attention of the other sentinels, Beric being one of them while Harwin was the other. Slowly, he drew his sword as he made his way around, getting a different vantage point as swiftly as caution would allow him.
The silhouette became more defined as he approached closer, the curves distinguishing the figure as a woman. Though she seemed alone, precautionary measures had to be taken. With a gentle press of the tip of his blade against her back, he commanded her to turn.
And turn, she did, revealing herself to be a young girl. He examined her just as she did him though he was less guarded and more stern, driven by purpose. Yet when her eyes met his one good one, he was greeted with a shriek -- though to her credit, she'd caught herself after a moment.
He raised an eyebrow in confusion, though he kept his sword raised. His lips parted to inquire, but the words died there as Anguy joined him.
"It's the patch of scars that always gets 'em." The archer looked then to northerner who followed just a few steps after.
Yet before he could shoot back with his own remark, his gaze fell upon the young girl's face, impassivity swiftly turning to recognition. "Milady, it is good to see you." There was short-lived relief there before his smile sunk into a frown, realizing the state of her no doubt.
"Jeyne Poole," Harwin said, more to Beric than Anguy. "Vayon Poole's daughter."
Harwin's assurance alone was enough, though the names were only vaguely familiar. Lowering his sword, he dipped his head. "My apologies." He offered a hand towards her. "We mean you no harm so long as you mean us none as well."
His eyes fell to her bloodied feet and with a nod of acknowledgment, he said, "Thoros can see to your wounds."
[ worshipsonlydeath ]
“Why couldn’t my father be brought back? If anyone should be brought back… it’s my father.”
"Your father was a good man, aye, but I would not wish this life on him." Though his eye meet hers, there was a distant look in them that made it seem as though he was somewhere else.
"I remember...less and less. I become less and less." Remembering himself and the company he kept, he casted his gaze to the ground. He shook his head, his voice faltering over an apology he couldn't speak. "Even if Lord Stark could be brought back, there's no guarantee he'd be your father."
[ bloodiedwolf ]
‘ what do any of you know about MY interest? nothing. leave me alone. ’
Though he spoke only of what would be best for her (security, perhaps, but not safety), he knew better than to stoke the fire her fury was brewing. He imagined her indignation was sharp enough to cut anyone else, but not him -- and not for lack of sympathy. Cut a man open often enough, he soon learns to call the ache home -- -- but it is still pain.
"Aye, perhaps I do know nothing of your interest." He attempted impassivity, unwilling to engage in unnecessary conflicts -- verbal or otherwise. "But I do know there are more enemies than friends of House Stark in these parts. I know you're upset -- as you should be. You are not the first I've come across to be wronged by some great lord." He was careful to not belittle her infuriation through his measured tone.
"And I know your father would not want you to wander alone." Though he could not claim to know Eddard Stark well, he'd seen enough of him to paint him as an adoring father. Though much of his own life faded from his mind, he could still recall the task that was set before him just before his first death -- and the man who'd sent him.
He watched her intently as he allowed his words to sink in, making no move to take his leave. He never did like pressing a matter -- that was often something left to Lem or even Thoros -- but it was him who commanded her return, him who needed to explain, and him who'd vowed to take her home. Honor dictated he at least owed her this much.
bloodiedwolf’s 2k followers giveaway | art credit to evelmiina
first of all, i’m incredibly touched & flattered to see so many of you wonderful people here & still following me – arya’s been insistently present in my head (and kicking my ass more oft than not, though i think she means it affectionately, at least most of the time) since may of last year, and i honestly can’t say i ever imagined getting this far with a muse i literally picked up on a whim, before i’d even laid hand to the books.
so, to thank you all for being so supportive – and for bringing such delightful talent to my dash in return – i’m tossing a fanmix giveaway into the void. but where are our graphics and themes and icons, z? i hear you say. well, to be honest, i’m still a bit of a potato when it comes to photoshop and coding, but i know some things, and what i know is music.
so, the rules:
must be following me.
likes and reblogs count, but don’t go nuts with the latter – be nice to your followers.
somewhere between 3 and 5 people will be selected at random to win a fanmix – i will message the winners privately to ascertain what they’d like their fanmixes to be about. can be for a ship, a character, or just a theme. the lengths of the fanmixes will be left up to my own discretion.
if i’m not familiar enough with the subject matter to feel confident making a playlist, i’ll ask for a second option, and run from there.
playlists will be posted both to my 8tracks account, and on tumblr.
giveaway closes on june 26th. happy reblogging!
last call! i’ll be picking the winners after i eat supper uwu.
WOLF CHILD, BLOOD CHILD I gorged on grief ( I need none of yours ) begone, dark heart
[ fiercebark ]
“beric and sandor going to an event that requires formal attire.” [ x ]
Beric Dondarrion hated charity events. While he was supportive of truly generous charitable acts, he found these high-end charity events hosted by the Lannisters deplorable. The wealthy families of Westeros would spend a fortune on their clothing and their plates, making a celebration out of it all while only a fraction of the expenditures went to the cause.
He was not without restraint. He kept his own personal misgivings to himself, dedicating himself to the task at hand. They were there to scope out the place for the heist job. Heists were not out of the ordinary for them, but their targets -- the things they'd be stealing -- were people.
Nudging the tall man by his side, he muttered, "Scout the place. Learn the layout. The Stark girls are not the objective, not tonight."
He felt odd standing still so he set his hands to straightening his tie. "Don't draw attention to yourself." He glanced at him from head to toe and, with a laugh, amended his command. "Or rather, don't draw more attention."
"So try not to get too drunk. Please."
send me a ▲ & i will put our character's names into this generator and write a starter based on the scenario that comes up!
hello darlings! I hit a milestone for all three of my muses (stannis baratheon, beric dondarrion, petyr baelish) a while back so this is my belated thank you to you lot!
I don’t have the time to make themes or 50+ icons so instead, I’m offering one promo (which will include a 500x350 graphic) + two 500x275 banners + three 128x128 avatars (optional; same base, just variations on coloring: 1 bw, 1 full color, 1 color gradient) for three winners. however, if there is a lot of interest in these graphics, I’ll gladly add in two more winners.
must be following at least one of my three muses. must be an rp blog. likes and reblogs count for one entry each. giveaway ends july 3rd.
examples: x x // x x
[ ofasshci ]
The man before her truly was a wonder, he both fascinated and intrigued her. To be brought back from death not once, but multiple times, without completely losing one’s sense of self was no small feat. The art of revival was something not even she had been able to accomplish, a testament to the skill of that priest, Thoros of Myr.
❛ Then his mission here was completed. For the Lord would not allow those to die who are still of use to him. ❜
"Then I will follow him soon." Into darkness. Into the nothing that awaited on the other side. “Thoros was my tether to this realm.” Though he’d lamented such to Thoros, now he spoke the words impassively.
He took a deep breath then, as though it was something he had to force, something that was no longer instinctive. He'd lost more and more each time he came back; he wondered sometimes if the necessity to breathe was one of them -- or perhaps it was simply the will to live. He felt as though he was running in circles, yet he somehow did not lose his sense of direction.
His eyes turned distant, a forlorn glint there. "Which may be all for the better. This life is not one I'd wish on any."
ooc;
do you ever mess around in photoshop for things you wish you had?
peter capaldi as thoros tho
[ silkssongsandchivalry ]
There was a reason the lightning lord always insisted on being on the frontline. It wasn't a matter of bravery or pride, but practicality as he was expendable. Severely damaged and hurtling towards death. (He could hear it in solitary moments when he sat in a tangle of roots -- a hissing sound like a flame put out. He could feel it in the creaking of his bones, weariness tinging his every move. Only in battle could he forget exhaustion.)
War had not touched the Vale and yet there was a danger in those mountains and provoking those who inhabited them. Cautious and unwilling to endanger any others, Beric had only Harwin to accompany him.
He removed his hood, revealing the red patch of scars where his eye once was. If that wasn't a clear indication of who he was, the scuffed lightning on his breastplate and the stars on his ragged black cloak should've been.
"We seek an audience with Lady Arryn."
[ sansa-sstark ]
"Lady Sansa, I take it?"
Without waiting for a reply, he continued with a warm, welcoming smile. "I recall you sitting with Lord Stark during the tilts. Have you been enjoying the festivities?"
[ twogoldenchains ]
"It is not safe to wander these war-ravaged parts alone." Though he too was alone at present, his companions were bound to be close by. Even so, he was never one for safety, much to Thoros' chagrin.
His hand fell from his sword but still, he kept his distance. "Are you lost?"
[ ofasshci ]
He saw a sea of red. Red like blood, like fire, like things that hurt. Like a memory of a friend who once turned his blood to flame with prayer, who once breathed fire into him to save him from darkness. Yet the lightning lord could not do the same for the red priest and he couldn’t help but think the was some weakness in him, some fault of his that caused him to fail.
Though his memory faltered, his sight did not. He could see clearly that this sea of red did not take the form of his late friend. "If it is our red priest you seek, he no longer walks with us."
"He is in the Lord of Light's care now."
[ bloodiedwolf ]
"My condolences for your loss, my lady." Pale, thin fingers grasped her shoulder weakly for a brief moment before his good eye focused on his hand. It seemed so foreign to him now, his own hand. Something so gaunt, so worn should not be living. (Or perhaps it was himself he was thinking of, not simply his hand.) A sigh escaped his lips as his hand suddenly fell, as if regretting the gesture.
His voice was soft yet ragged, though not in sentiment. Everything about him seemed weary, but rarely did he rest. It was the fire in him that refused to sleep, the fire that would soon go out again. (A borrowed flame bestowed upon him by a man in red. A man he called friend. A brother.) "But it would be in your best interest if you did not stray far from us."
