#warcrownd

[direreign]

photos of sansa,    ft.    @warcrownd

[direreign]

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 { is that my tunic mlady }

he’d left it.   last time.   sansa hadn’t figured out whyand he hadn’t asked about it since;   hadwrapped himself in furs,  last time, and left when he knew that noone would be patrolling the floors outside her chambers.   Of course, he would know it all.   would know because he organised it.   was meant to take care of her more than anyone elsein these grounds.   she had told himit,  once,  and he had wrapped fingers around her throat in a way that sansa couldn’tquite describe.  even now,  reflecting on it.   surrounded by fire and furs enough for morethan just her.   she doesn’t think as she puts his tunic on that night, admires the way it’s too big.   the way it feels like his.   thefact that she shouldn’t be wearing it to begin with;  but she lays back,  surrounded by furs,  eyes closed.  bare legs stretching,  hair spread around her like a halo.   sansa knowsshe shouldn’t be surprised when he’s opening the door,  just like she knew he would.   the way his movements falter,  only for amoment,  as he sees her on her bed.   the way she only turns her head to the sideto look over at him;   one hand raisingabove her head,  the hem of his tunic rising, the other lost somewhere beside her hip.   he stares.  she grins.     “you shouldhave knocked—   i could have had anyone in here,”    the look in his eye changes then, immediately.   sansa allows herselfto revelin it.

send “👀” to find my muse wearing nothing but an oversized shirt.@warcrownd      selective.

[direreign]

‘ say my name like it’s the only one that’s ever been on your tongue. ’

the words bring pause, and all sansa can do is stare at the man before her as he moves closer. she doesn’t stop him. doesn’t dare. why would she want to? she exhales, slow, steady. she watches him. does he want to scare her? she wants to know the answer, but doesn’t dare to ask the question. she’s meant to trust him more than anyone— she does trust him more than anyone. he’s pledged himself to her. her alone. yet, he lingers. she lingers. he steps forward, and sansa doesn’t stop him. the opposite, really. tilts her head to the side, raises her chin until lips ghost across his. space still between them. most call him the blacksword. the rest call him shelby. it’s formal, proper. the persona that he shows to the world... but she knows him better than that, doesn’t she? however, fingers brush across the furs that still hang over his shoulders. she’s playing a dangerous game, but so is he. “thomas,” she breathes, like a prayer. like he’s a godsend. as though he’ll make her feel alive again. the first, the last, the always. fingers grip. her eyes close. “please, thomas.”

[direreign]

“This is Hell’s territory and I am beholden to no gods.” { just throws myself at u hi i love ur sansa }

she would laugh,  if not for the fact she felt the same.   surrounded by the dead,  the snow,  the fire that dragons brought with them.   the others that had come forward,  wanted to stand with the north.   she doesn’t know why he chose to,  doesn’t care.   they need all they can get,  according to jon.   sansa didn’t know what she would do to feed them all,  couldn’t focus on that with him standing before her.   expression serious,  and she can’t stop the twitch at the corner of her own mouth.   the only thing that does crack,  before she’s rising to a stand.   doesn’t need to listen to more of why he’s there;   why he thinks this is a good idea.   if he wants to die,  then she won’t stop him from trying.   if he wants to be a hero...   well,  that’s a journey he’ll have to see to on his own.     “you and i are more alike than you would assume then,”     she answers,  cutting.   rude,  despite herself.   fingers ghost the table between them,  and she rounds it.   sits on the edge,  tilts her head to the side.   she wonders what he would do in a war.   she knows she won’t be able to find out.   “let’s hope that the gods   --   any there may be,”     a pause.   she doesn’t believe.   hasn’t since cersei lannister.   since she was cut apart and stitched together again.   a new woman.   a different woman.   a woman all the same.     “will be kind to you,  because the night is long and unforgiving,  ser shelby.” 

lines that i’ve heard that are raw as hell@warcrownd     accepting.

[peaky-archive]

“Moments like this require someone who will act. To do the unpleasant thing. The necessary thing.”

House of Cards //  Accepting // @warcrownd

“Necessary?” Arthur repeated, a look of disbelief etched onto his features. “He’s a fuckin’ kid, Tommy. Ya can’t trust Michael ta do somethin’ this big. As much as I love the kid, he ain’t the one for this job. Best off givin’ it to John.”

[qceenmother]

/anonymously throws my URL at you heh/

katie spreads positivity II selective but accepting II @warcrownd

you get a very special icon tbhseriously tho you’re amazing like your writing is holy cow please teach me your ways. also your tommy kills me because you write tommy so perfectly i just. b y e. also frigga kinda wants to hit him on the back of the head. (so does polly but that kinda is to be expected) seriously you’re a jewel and i’m so so happy we get to be friends <3

[sinbled-blog]

                   ‘ look -- i don’t particularly care either way. ‘

@warcrownd // starter call.

[peaky-archive]

warcrownd replied to your post “A small thing about Arthur and relationships Over all, unless he...”

lol he even has a connection with linda n cheats on er

I think at this point even Arthur wants her gone