And Here’s Arya And Her Little Lip Chew

Más dibujos sin terminar porque ya no me importa nada

Might a request a Jaania for the fandom requests? <3

Jaania for you!

Missandei of Naath "Eleven years of age, yet Missandei is as clever as half the men at this table and wiser than all of them."

Below is a version w different lighting:

Sansa seemed lonely hehe

Arya Stark

On his way back, Jon swung wide of the column's line of march and took a shorter path through the thick of the wood. The sounds of man and horse diminished, swallowed up by the wet green wild, and soon enough he could hear only the steady wash of rain against leaf and tree and rock. It was midafternoon, yet the forest seemed as dark as dusk. Jon wove a path between rocks and puddles, past great oaks, grey-green sentinels, and black-barked ironwoods. In places the branches wove a canopy overhead and he was given a moment's respite from the drumming of the rain against his head. As he rode past a lightning-blasted chestnut tree overgrown with wild white roses, he heard something rustling in the underbrush. "Ghost," he called out. "Ghost, to me."

But it was Dywen who emerged from the greenery, forking a shaggy grey garron with Grenn ahorse beside him. The Old Bear had deployed outriders to either side of the main column, to screen their march and warn of the approach of any enemies, and even there he took no chances, sending the men out in pairs.

— Maya Angelou, Letter to My Daughter

favorite thing in asoiaf is that the stark family tree is just filled with haters in every generation. theon stark brandon snow alaric stark cregan stark even ned's brother brandon and lyanna too. even the current kids jon snow robb sansa and arya all have some kendrick lamar level of beef w at least one person. brandon the builder spawned an entire genre of haters

Towering far above the rest, the heart tree's bone-white bark flashed stark against the common green brush that sprawled across Old Harren's grounds, gleaming a cold alabaster as bright as his own cloak. Leaves spilled from slender grasping limbs like a million splayed hands dipped in blood. And upon its trunk, a face.

The visage had been slashed deep. If it was the work of man or god, Arthur could not say. Crimson sap oozed from slanted eyes like ancient tears, frozen dry upon pale drawn cheeks. It watched him with knowing disdain. A weirwood, he thought in awe. The last one standing below the Neck.

It was then that he saw the supplicant. A slight figure knelt before the heart tree, head bowed low in prayer. Slim as a winter sapling, and so still he might have mistaken it for carved stone. Scarcely more than a smudge of shadow upon the hard earth.

At the stir of their footfalls, the figure trembled slightly, then hopped to its feet with the swift grace of a startled doe and whirled.

It was… a girl-child. He’d not misjudged; even whilst standing she was a tiny slip of a thing. A strange thing. Her coltish frame was wrapped in a dove-grey gown, streaked with soil and trailing like morning mist about small bared feet. Dark chestnut hair tumbled loose and tangled past thin shoulders, framing windburnt cheeks flushed rosy with chill. Her eyes were sharp and wild, her teeth bared—and in her hands a tree branch, raised like a sword!

Not a little doe then, thought Arthur.

Then, a break in the clouds. A shaft of dying light broke through the clearing, striking the crown of the heart tree with sudden radiance. The deep scarlet leaves flared and shimmered like bloody embers. And there, half-lost amongst the high fronds, something swayed.

A shield. Upon it, the painted face of a weirwood, grinning wide and red.

Arthur froze.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Snippet from A Crown of False Spring, Chapter 4.

Battle of The Whispering Woods- Work in Progress

I didn't post in a while - because of job and life - but in the little breaks of life and job I started to draw this. Hopefully I will finish it next week - because of Easter Holliday 🤞

The gay characters in ASOIAF having the most romantic quotes was an incredible writing decision by GRRM:

“When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.”

— A Storm of Swords, Tyrion II

I rose too high, loved too hard, dared too much. I tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell.

— A Dance With Dragons, The Griffin Reborn