dreamykitty25

Latest Posts by dreamykitty25

kind of wanna reinforce this here. because i’ve seen ai writing become so popular on tik tok.

ai writing is not okay.

it’s literally theft. just like how ai art steals, ai writing steals. it’s using authors’ very real work to generate whatever you type in. and this also needs to be said as well.

writing is a form of art. fanfiction is a form of literature.

seeing this all over my fyp is REALLY discouraging. fanfic itself is already a labor of love and we love it when you interact. but please do not use ai writing for your fanfic needs when this writing literally steals from fanfic authors.

genuinely don’t know if this post will go around because my interactions outside of hcs are shit, but i hope it does.

miraculous ladybug (2015-) // album: Electra Heart, by marina (2012)

i was inspired after seeing one of these lyrics/film parallels to Laura Palmer.

fot the biggest marino/marinette lover i know : @iwasbored777 💖💖

jason really won the ally award of the year bc he does not only got a bisexual dad, a bisexual godly brother, a lesbian sister, a gay best friend but had also a lesbian girlfriend !! it doesnt get any more supportive than that! SPEAK VALENTINA !!

Ugh are they seriously having THAT conversation now? When Paris is under attack?

And why are they now talking about secret identities? That's your smallest problem right now?

As I read a Clash of Kings, I realize that the most powerful thing about this book is gaining access to Arya’s psychology. She starts out homeless in King’s Landing & you get a first hand account of what life is in the starving capital during war & politically unstable times.

You see her travel by road through Riverlands which were raided, destroyed & burnt, innocents caught in the crossfire of Stark-Lannister drama just because Catelyn got played by Litterfinger & kidnaps Tyrion & Tywin was too ruthless & played dirty by raiding the Riverlands to scatter their forces. It’s so easy to get caught up in the drama of these lords that it’s difficult to imagine that the lives of common people were destroyed to the limit that they started missing the Mad King! Simply because during his reign there was no war. It’s heartbreaking to watch a child’s innocent perception tainted, how she starts calling herself a sheep and agonies herself about deluding herself about being a wolf or a warrior.

Worst of all, is when she ends up in a concentration camp like situation. Her mental state when prisoners are dehumanised & picked one at a time randomly to die. The aftermath of being treated like an abused slave who gets beat up & threatened daily gets to her to the point that she starts calling herself a scared little mouse. You really get a sense of why she gives the names of the two people most abusive to her & later realizes that she could have named someone important like Tywin or Joffery to be killed when she has only one name left.

All of this is what enriched the experience for me while reading the book compared to S02 where “Who should win the game of thrones” seemed like a game where the cost of war just wasn’t real enough. Seriously at this point I’m rooting for no King, not even a little bit! Arya is hands down the MVP for this book & I’m glad this arc made this game of highborns so much more real. It’s really heartbreaking but I love how deeply I got to understand my lil gal!

One thing i find interesting is that the Faceless Man magic may not work on animals. Casso, the King of Seals, seems to recognize Arya as the ugly little girl.

“But farther on, on the wharf beside an Ibbenese whaler, she spied Cat’s old friend Tagganaro tossing a ball back and forth with Casso, King of Seals, whilst his latest cutpurse worked the crowd of onlookers. When she stopped to watch and listen for a moment, Tagganaro glanced at her without recognition, but Casso barked and clapped his flippers. He knows me, the girl thought, or else he smells the fish. She hurried on her way.” - Ugly Little Girl, ADwD

And at least one of the cats to remember her as well. 

“She scratched his head behind one ear, and the cat jumped up into her lap and began to purr. Braavos was full of cats, and no place more than Pynto’s. The old pirate believed they brought good luck and kept his tavern free of vermin. “You know me, don’t you?” she whispered. Cats were not fooled by a mummer’s moles. They remembered Cat of the Canals.” - The Blind Girl, ADwD

At least we know that if she goes back to Westeros wearing a different face the wolves will still recognize her. I also wonder if the faceless men just dont work on animals or if it is the warg in Arya they see. 

Arya Stark + overlooked aspects

anonymous requested: parallels between tyrion lannister and arya stark

winterfell’s boys + thinking of Arya

Arya Stark Week Day 7: Supernatural

But only when she dreamed.

Canon Arya Stark Appreciation Week: Day Five (Religion)

“Your Seven have a sept here, the Sept-Beyond-the-Sea, but only Westerosi sailors worship there.”

They are not my Seven. They were my mother’s gods, and they let the Freys murder her at the Twins.

Arya Stark + Embodiment of the Seven Gods

insp. from this meta

Arya + Wolf Monikers (Requested by @insomniarama​)

She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could smell the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike.

Arya Stark + Changes the Show Made From Her Novel Characterization

Arya Stark + Allusions to the Greek Underworld

arya stark & leadership

Honesty

Arya squirted past Greenbeard so fast he never saw her. “You are a murderer!” she screamed. “You killed Mycah, don’t say you never did. You murdered him!”

The Hound stared at her with no flicker of recognition. “And who was this Mycah, boy?”

“I’m not a boy! But Mycah was. He was a butcher’s boy and you killed him. Jory said you cut him near in half, and he never even had a sword.” She could feel them looking at her now, the women and the children and the men who called themselves the knights of the hollow hill. “Who’s this now?” someone asked.

The Hound answered. “Seven hells. The little sister. The brat who tossed Joff’s pretty sword in the river.” He gave a bark of laughter. “Don’t you know you’re dead?”

Communication

“Do you hear?” Hot Pie asked in a hoarse whisper, as he hugged an armful of cabbages. “Someone’s coming.” 

“Go wake Gendry,” Arya told him. “Just shake him by the shoulder, don’t make a lot of noise.” Gendry was easy to wake, unlike Hot Pie, who needed to be kicked and shouted at. 

“I’ll make her my love and we’ll rest in the shade, heigh-ho, heigh-ho. The song swelled louder with every word. 

Hot Pie opened his arms. The cabbages fell to the ground with soft thumps.

“We have to hide.” 

Where? The burned cottage and its overgrown garden stood hard beside the banks of the Trident. There were a few willows growing along the river’s edge and reed beds in the muddy shallows beyond, but most of the ground hereabouts was painfully open. I knew we should never have left the woods, she thought. They’d been so hungry, though, and the garden had been too much a temptation. The bread and cheese they had stolen from Harrenhal had given out six days ago, back in the thick of the woods. “Take Gendry and the horses behind the cottage,” she decided. There was part of one wall still standing, big enough, maybe, to conceal two boys and three horses. If the horses don’t whinny, and that singer doesn’t come poking around the garden. 

“What about you?”

“I’ll hide by the tree. He’s probably alone. If he bothers me, I’ll kill him. Go!”

Confidence

They rode north, away from the lake, following a rutted farm road across the torn fields and into the woods and streams. Arya took the lead, kicking her stolen horse to a brisk heedless trot until the trees closed in around her. Hot Pie and Gendry followed as best they could.

Commitment

She would make much better time on her own, Arya knew, but she could not leave them. They were her pack, her friends, the only living friends that remained to her, and if not for her they would still be safe at Harrenhal, Gendry sweating at his forge and Hot Pie in the kitchens. If the Mummers catch us, I’ll tell them that I’m Ned Stark’s daughter and sister to the King in the North. I’ll command them to take me to my brother, and to do no harm to Hot Pie and Gendry.

Creativity

“Anyone?” she repeated. “A man, a woman, a little baby, or Lord Tywin, or the High Septon, or your father?” 

“A man’s sire is long dead, but did he live, and did you know his name, he would die at your command.”

“Swear it,” Arya said. “Swear it by the gods.”

“By all the gods of sea and air, and even him of fire, I swear it.” He placed a hand in the mouth of the weirwood. “By the seven new gods and the old gods beyond count, I swear it.”

He has sworn. “Even if I named the king.”

“Speak the name, and death will come. On the morrow, at the turn of the moon, a year from this day, it will come. A man does not fly like a bird, but one foot moves and then another and one day a man is there, and a king dies.” He knelt beside her, so they were face-to-face, “A girl whispers if she fears to speak aloud. Whisper it now. Is it Joffrey?”

Arya put her lips to his ear. “It’s Jaqen H’ghar.”

Even in the burning barn, with walls of flame towering all around and him in chains, he had not seemed so distraught as he did now. “A girl… she makes a jest.”

“You swore. The gods heard you swear.”

“The gods did hear,” There was a knife in his hand suddenly, its blade thin as her little finger. Whether it was meant for her or him, Arya could not say. “A girl will weep. A girl will lose her only friend.”

“You’re not my friend. A friend would help me.” She stepped away from him, balanced on the balls of her feet in case he threw his knife. “I’d never kill a friend.”

Jaqen’s smile came and went. “A girl might… name another name then, if a friend did help?” “A girl might,” she said. “If a friend did help.”

The knife vanished. “Come.”

Intuition

When she got closer, she saw that he was a northman, very tall and thin, huddled in a ragged fur cloak. That was bad. She might have been able to trick a Frey or one of the Brave Companions, but the Dreadfort men had served Roose Bolton their whole life, and they knew him better than she did. If I tell him I am Arya Stark and command him to stand aside… No, she dare not. He was a northman, but not a Winterfell man. He belonged to Roose Bolton.

Inspire

“Child,” said the singer, “put up that sword, and we’ll take you to a safe place and get some food in that belly. There are wolves in these parts, and lions, and worse things. No place for a little girl to be wandering alone.”

“She’s not alone.” Gendry rode out from behind the cottage wall, and behind him Hot Pie, leading her horse. In his chainmail shirt with a sword in his hand, Gendry looked almost a man grown, and dangerous. Hot Pie looked like Hot Pie. “Do like she says, and leave us be,” warned Gendry.

Integrity

“Whose men were you?” she asked them.

At the sound of her voice, the fat man opened his eyes. The skin around them was so red they looked like boiled eggs floating in a dish of blood. “Water… a drink…”

“Whose?” she said again.

“Pay them no mind, boy,” the townsman told her.  They’re none o’ your concern.  Ride on by.“

“What did they do?” she asked him.

“They put eight people to the sword at Tumbler’s Falls,” he said. “They wanted the Kingslayer, but he wasn’t there so they did some rape and murder.” He jerked a thumb toward the corpse with maggots where his manhood ought to be. “That one there did the raping. Now move along.”

“A swallow,” the fat one called down. “Ha’ mercy, boy, a swallow.” The old one slid an arm up to grasp the bars. The motion made his cage swing violently. “Water,” gasped the one with the flies in his beard.

She looked at their filthy hair and scraggly beards and reddened eyes, at their dry, cracked, bleeding lips. Wolves, she thought again. Like me. Was this her pack? How could they be Robb’s men? She wanted to hit them. She wanted to hurt them. She wanted to cry. They all seemed to be looking at her, the living and the dead alike. The old man had squeezed three fingers out between the bars. “Water,” he said, “water.”

Arya swung down from her horse. They can’t hurt me, they’re dying. She took her cup from her bedroll and went to the fountain. “What do you think you’re doing, boy?” the townsman snapped. “They’re no concern o’ yours.” She raised the cup to the fish’s mouth. The water splashed across her fingers and down her sleeve, but Arya did not move until the cup was brimming over. When she turned back toward the cages, the townsman moved to stop her. “You get away from them, boy–”

“She’s a girl,” said Harwin. “Leave her be.”

“Aye,” said Lem. “Lord Beric don’t hold with caging men to die of thirst. Why don’t you hang them decent?”

“There was nothing decent ‘bout them things they did at Tumbler’s Falls,” the townsman growled right back at him.

The bars were too narrow to pass a cup through, but Harwin and Gendry offered her a leg up. She planted a foot in Harwin’s cupped hands, vaulted onto Gendry’s shoulders, and grabbed the bars on top of the cage. The fat man turned his face up and pressed his cheek to the iron, and Arya poured the water over him. He sucked at it eagerly and let it run down over his head and cheeks and hands, and then he licked the dampness off the bars. He would have licked Arya’s fingers if she hadn’t snatched them back. By the time she served the other two the same, a crowd had gathered to watch her.

Decisiveness

“The wolf blood.” Arya remembered now. “I’ll be as strong as Robb. I said I would.” She took a deep breath, then lifted the broomstick in both hands and brought it down across her knee. It broke with a loud crack, and she threw the pieces aside. I am a direwolf, and done with wooden teeth. 

…

At the forge she found the fires extinguished and the doors closed and barred. She crept in a window, as she had once before. Gendry shared a mattress with two other apprentice smiths. She crouched in the loft for a long time before her eyes adjusted enough for her to be sure that he was the one on the end. Then she put a hand over his mouth and pinched him. His eyes opened. He could not have been very deeply asleep. “Please,” she whispered. She took her hand off his mouth and pointed. 

For a moment she did not think he understood, but then he slid out from under the blankets. Naked, he padded across the room, shrugged into a loose roughspun tunic, and climbed down from the loft after her. The other sleepers did not stir. “What do you want now?” Gendry said in a low angry voice.

“A sword.”

“Blackthumb keeps all the blades locked up, I told you that a hundred times. Is this for Lord Leech?”

“For me. Break the lock with your hammer.”

“They’ll break my hand,” he grumbled. “Or worse.”

“Not if you run off with me.”

“Run, and they’ll catch you and kill you.”

“They’ll do you worse. Lord Bolton is giving Harrenhal to the Bloody Mummers, he told me so.”

Gendry pushed black hair out of his eyes. “So?”

She looked right at him, fearless. “So when Vargo Hoat’s the lord, he’s going to cut off the feet of all the servants to keep them from running away. The smiths too.”

Personability

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. This Mycah was the worst; a butcher’s boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block. Just the sight of him was enough to make Sansa feel sick, but Arya seemed to prefer his company to hers.

Empowerment

Back at Winterfell, they had eaten in the Great Hall almost half the time. Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. “Know the men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.” At Winterfell, he always had an extra seat set at his own table, and every day a different man would be asked to join him. One night it would be Vayon Poole, and the talk would be coppers and bread stores and servants. The next time it would be Mikken, and her father would listen to him go on about armor and swords and how hot a forge should be and the best way to temper steel. Another day it might be Hullen with his endless horse talk, or Septon Chayle from the library, or Jory, or Ser Rodrik, or even Old Nan with her stories.

Generosity

Arya was a skilled climber and a fast picker, and she liked to go off by herself. One day she came across a rabbit, purely by happenstance. It was brown and fat, with long ears and a twitchy nose. Rabbits ran faster than cats, but they couldn’t climb trees half so well. She whacked it with her stick and grabbed it by its ears, and Yoren stewed it with some mushrooms and wild onions. Arya was given a whole leg, since it was her rabbit. She shared it with Gendry. The rest of them each got a spoonful, even the three in manacles. Jaqen H'ghar thanked her politely for the treat, and Biter licked the grease off his dirty fingers with a blissful look, but Rorge, the noseless one, only laughed and said, “There’s a hunter now. Lumpyface Lumpyhead Rabbitkiller.”

Persistence

“The Trident.” Arya unrolled the stolen map to show them. “See? Once we reach the Trident, all we need to do is follow it upstream till we come to Riverrun, here.” Her finger traced the path. “It’s a long way, but we can’t get lost so long as we keep to the river.”

“Gendry,” she called, her voice low and urgent. “They have a boat. We could sail the rest of the way up to Riverrun. It would be faster than riding, I think.”

Lem was not the leader, though, no more than Tom; that was Greenbeard, the Tyroshi. Arya turned to face him. “Take me to Riverrun and you’ll be rewarded,” she said desperately.

A white sun on black was the sigil of Lord Karstark, Arya thought. Those were Robb’s men. She wondered if they were still close. If she could give the outlaws the slip and find them, maybe they would take her to her mother at Riverrun …

It should be noted though:

Warm and dry in a corner between Gendry and Harwin, Arya listened to the singing for a time, then closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. She dreamt of home; not Riverrun, but Winterfell. It was not a good dream, though.

Accountability

As she worked, Arya thought about the people she wanted dead. She pretended she could see their faces on the steps, and scrubbed harder to wipe them away. The Starks were at war with the Lannisters and she was a Stark, so she should kill as many Lannisters as she could, that was what you did in wars. But she didn’t think she should trust Jaqen. I should kill them myself. Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. “If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look him in the face and hear his last words,” she’d heard him tell Robb and Jon once.

Bonus

She dreamed of wolves most every night. A great pack of wolves, with her at the head. She was bigger than any of them, stronger, swifter, faster. She could outrun horses and outfight lions. When she bared her teeth even men would run from her, her belly was never empty long, and her fur kept her warm even when the wind was blowing cold. And her brothers and sisters were with her, many and more of them, fierce and terrible and hers. They would never leave her.

Arya Stark and the Trauma of Killing

Arya is not the cold-blooded, pleasure seeking killer that the showrunners, and the majority of fandom, like to portray her as. She has never been happy about the killing she’s had to do to survive, the killing she’s had to do to stay with the faceless men because she thinks she has no where else to go, the killing she’s done out of a sense of justice against those who’ve harmed her and others (Raff) and those she’s been taught to view as the most dangerous of all men (Dareon, the Night’s Watch deserter).

More often than not, Arya has felt shame for what she’s done, so much so, that her kills haunt her all the way in ADWD when she’s trying, and failing, to become no one. She must justify to herself why these people deserve their deaths and she’s never *happy* about any of it. She has felt empty, hopeless, weak because nothing she can do will ever bring her parents, her family, back to her.  

A few instances where Arya reflects on the killings, and the blatant shame, fear, guilt she feels when thinking of how her father, mother, brother, and others would react:

Yoren didn’t know about the stableboy, but she was afraid of what he might do if he found out…

-Arya, ACoK

Arya told of Yoren and their escape from King’s Landing as well, and much that had happened since, but she left out the stableboy she’d stabbed with Needle, and the guard whose throat she’d cut to get out of Harrenhal. Telling Harwin would be almost like telling her father, and there were some things that she could not bear having her father know. 

-Arya, ASoS

Arya didn’t know how much Robb would pay for her, though. He was a king now, not the boy she’d left at Winterfell with snow melting in his hair. And if he knew the things she’d done, the stableboy and the guard at Harrenhal and all. “What if my brother doesn’t want to ransom me?”

-Arya,ASoS

And her lady mother, what would she say? Would she still want her back, after all the things she’d done? Arya chewed her lip and wondered.

-Arya, ASoS

In fact, the small amount of comfort she ever has about her kills is this:

Jon wouldn’t care who I killed or whether I brushed my hair…

-Arya, ASoS

Finally, all the way in ADWD, she is still unable to forget the killing, she hasn’t found any peace, relief, happiness, fulfillment, etc. It’s clear that it’s all taken a heavy toll on her, and it is not something she will ever be okay with:

Yet there was the black singer, there the stableboy she’d killed with Needle, there the pimply squire from the crossroads inn, and over there the guard whose throat she’d slashed to get them out of Harrenhal. The Tickler hung on the wall as well, the black holes that were his eyes swimming with malice. The sight of him brought back the feel of the dagger in her hand as she had plunged it into his back, again and again and again.

-Arya, ADWD

Bottomline, killing is an incredibly traumatic, confusing, and more times than not, necessary part of Arya’s arc. It isn’t this cut and dry action that leaves her feeling satisfied or happy. 

And just as a sidenote, I never see any comments about Jaime Lannister killing people, Jon Snow, Stannis Baratheon, Ned Stark, Sandor Clegane. Yet the few kills Arya has, most of whom were out of survival, ALL of whom were dangerous, horrible people, automatically brings out the tumblr MDs trying to diagnose her with sociopathy or psychopathy, or the ~concerned fans~ about her loss of humanity.

It’s funny, because Arya is actually one of the few people who understands the worth of life. When she saves Jaqen, Rorge, Biter from the fire, when she’s concerned about creatures like fleas, LITERAL FLEAS, in her clothes dying, when she witnesses countless deaths and desecrated bodies and is forced to realize just how quickly lives can end, when she witnesses the resurrection of Beric and asks if her father’s life can be restored as well, when she’s concerned about giving Yoren a proper burial. But God forbid this little girl wants the monsters responsible for the massacre of her family, for the abuse she’s endured, for the horrible atrocities she’s seen committed, dead. I guess when it’s a female character wanting justice, it makes her too far gone, but when it’s a male character, it makes him a hero. 

Arya Stark as Athena

ASoS:

“Aunt Lysa. The thought left Arya feeling empty. It was her mother she wanted, not her mother’s sister. She didn’t know her mother’s sister any more than she knew her great uncle Blackfish. We should have gone into the castle. They didn’t really know that her mother was dead, or Robb either. It wasn’t like they’d seen them die or anything. Maybe Lord Frey had just taken them captive. Maybe they were chained up in his dungeon, or maybe the Freys were taking them to King’s Landing so Joffrey could chop their heads off. They didn’t know. “We should go back,” she suddenly decided. “We should go back to the Twins and get my mother. She can’t be dead. We have to help her.”

Me:

Zutara + being the textbook definition of development. ♡

The Warrior

This is the first in a short painting series based on fantasy class archetypes. I’ll have prints with me at my NYCC artist alley table G4! Process is up for Patreon rewards for last month.

Yas Wolf Queen

Because Tyrion is weirdly fascinated by direwolves

 Tyrion: if you had to separate your direwolf from 49 other identical direwolves that were all equally excited to see you, how would you determine which direwolf was yours?

Bran: I would know it in my bones. Him and I are one.

*

Tyrion: if you had to separate your direwolf from 49 other identical direwolves that were all equally excited to see you, how would you determine which  direwolf was yours?

Sansa: Ok, so that was just harsh and-

Tyrion: Oh fuck. I completely-

*

Tyrion: if you had to separate your direwolf from 49 other identical  direwolves that were all equally excited to see you, how would you determine which direwolf was yours?

Rickon: *has been ignoring him for this entire conversation. Tyrion will never receive a reply*

*

Tyrion: if you had to separate your direwolf from 49 other identical direwolves that were all equally excited to see you, how would you determine which direwolf was yours?

Jon: No direwolf can brood like my direwolf. *Looks out the window and broods about it*

*

Tyrion: if you had to separate your direwolf from 49 other identical direwolves that were all equally excited to see you, how would you determine which direwolf was yours?

Arya:*flips hair* i would take my 50 direwolves home and live like a queen. I’d trust Nymeria would have made herself the alpha by then.

Tyrion:

Tyrion: I didn’t make this a competition but she just won… somehow

Stop demonizing wolves.

Like seriously. Wolves we see in movies and media… Not how wolves behave. At all.

1. A lone wolf is cool, strong and, something to strive to be. FALSE.

Lone wolves have either lost, left or been pushed out of a pack. They are likely starving, lonely and/or looking for a new family or mate. Wolves are highly social and need companionship. They don’t want to be alone.

2. An alpha wolf is the biggest, baddest wolf in the pack who fights for their position. FALSE.

There are TWO Alpha wolves in a pack. They are mom and dad, the oldest and usually the smartest cause they have experienced the most. They are usually more timid and less likely to put themselves in danger because they are the only wolves in the pack that breed. If they die, the rest of the family will likely loose their way and eventually break apart.

Biggest wolves are usually the ‘betas’ who are children of the alphas (cause most everyone in the pack are puppies from mom and dad) and are generally more likely to investigate.

3. Wolves are brave and will hunt down intruders to there territory. FALSE.

Wolves are HUGE scaredy cats. They are naturally neophobic after about 6months to a year. Something new and different shows up in there territory, they are likely to avoid or keep their distance. They are NOT going to attack unless food or puppies are involved. They are great at communicating and you will know you need to back off long before you are in danger. This also means that no, that ‘wolf dog’ is not going to be a loyal and protective pet.

4. Wolves adopt. This is true.

Wolves are puppy crazy. Like they love puppies (for the most part) and its very common for packs to adopt puppies into their family. No issues with breeding cause, only mom and dad are allowed to do that. this is a way that puppies breed in captivity have been introduced to the wild, by being left near known nursing females and the pack will often come find them and bring them home. You want to known how much they love puppies? Wolves will give up their own meals to make sure puppies get fed first. Wolves can gorge themselves on up to 20lb of food and have been seen regurgitating for puppies and pregnant mothers.

Please stop demonizing wolves.

Like look at these idiots. I love them so much. Stand up too fast and you scary. That thing that touched the ground, its mine now. They want your shirt and you say no so they growl, tickle their tongue and they are just like WHY!? Trust a growling wolf way more than a dog any day. (All these guys live at a sanctuary for captive born and rescued wolves)

I love how Bran, Jon and Robb are losing their shit because of wraging and being too close to their wolves while Arya is like “fuck you. i am a wolf”. 

Yesss those two could have been besties

🐺 Arya Stark appreciation 13/-

Parallels to Oberyn Martell Pt. 1- The Water Dancer of Winterfell and the Red Viper of Dorne.

Yess i would love the relationship those two could have 😍😍

Honestly though i need Arya and Nymeria Sand to meet at some point even in an au simply so Arya can meet her and be like “My wolf’s name is Nymeria!” and decides right then and there Nymeria sand is destined to be her bff