A Song of Ice And Fire Crackship

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Dear Tumblr <3, thanks for pointing out my ULTIMATE FAIL OF A TITLE AND URL (haha I feel so stupid honestly)! I edited the title but can't edit the URL :(

Owner of this Tumblr likes crackship from George RR Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire.

Everything is Spoilers (unless you read the books :p).

Spoilers

they see me rowin’ they hatin’

How many times have you used the Olly nod today?

After I helped an old woman carry her things and she thanked me,

I Olly nod.

He is a hero.

aegontargaryen:

based on this post (x)

What they really thought

(via iamnedstarksmissinghead)

#Stannis  #davos  

This is what really happened.

It now makes sense.

Exclusive: New Winds of Winter Chapter

The Legend

The Legend crawled from the ashes of Craster’s keep. The night was silent and snow drifted lazily onto him. He was unsure how long he had been lying under the ashes for, it felt as though it may have been forever. Suddenly Karl became aware of how thirsty he was. His head was aching, must be the wine, he thought to himself. He rubbed the back of head, only a large chuck was missing, he inspected his hand to find it was covered in blood and Karl suddenly remembered, Lord fooking Snow. And that wildling bitch, Karl thought to himself furiously. What a mistake he had made giving Craster’s daughters food and shelter, only to be repaid with treachery, I should have fooked them all until they were dead. No matter, it would take more than a sword through the brain to stop The Legend of Gin Alley.

Before he left to hunt down those c-nts there was one thing he needed to find among the ruins in Craster’s keep. He pushed his way through the rubble, searching for several minutes. Much to Karl’s amazement, there it was, still perfectly in tact, the Skull O’ Jeor Fooking Mormont. The last thing left of any meaning which to Karl. He stashed it under his cloak and returned back out into the snow.

After walking through the snow for a short while Karl stumbled upon a corpse, he kicked it over to reveal it’s face, He looks even more like a fooking ballsack when he’s dead. Ghost’s cage was empty. This must mean the beast was back with Lord Snow. Soon Karl accepted he was not going to find anything to eat or drink today so he knelt down and began eating the snow Craster must be laughing in hell, the daughter f-cking, wildling, bastard.

That night Karl dreamt he was back in Gin Alley. He’d been given a name and seven silvers, he knew what to do, it was what he was born to do. He was closing in on his prey, it has been a good chase, but none of them c-cksuckers got away, not one. The man he was chasing was a knight, but that didn’t matter. Karl was a legend in Gin Alley, a fooking legend, and he could take any knight, any time. Soon the knight reached a dead end. He turned around a raised his sword but Karl was on him like a septon on a young boy. The knight was backed into a corner, while Karl relentlessly attacked with his two daggers. The only thing keeping the knight alive at this point was his steel plate armour, fooking coward. The knight made an attack on Karl, swinging his longsword down in an arc over his head but Karl was to quick. Before the knight could bring his sword down Karl drove his dagger through the knights throat. The knight coughed blood up all over Karl’s face. Nothing tasted quite so sweet. Karl watched the life leave his eyes and listened to the sound of the longsword as it crashed to the ground.

When Karl woke the next morning his head hurt more than ever. He looked over at Mormont’s skull. Karl tried to stand but the pain was too great, he fell back down to the ground. He looked over at the skull. Something seemed odd, almost as if there was still life in the Old Bear. Then Karl heard a whisper in the wind, as soft as a summer breeze, ‘Fook em til they’re dead.’ Karl wasn’t sure if he was hearing this or not, ‘What’s that?’ Karl asked. Suddenly the skull was no longer there. Instead The Old Bear towered above him, standing over eight feet tall, his hair blowing in the wind, ‘FOOK EM TIL THEY’RE DEAD!’ he roared. Then The Old Bear erupted into a storm of dazzling silver coins, Karl covered his eyes, but when he looked again there was only the skull o’ Jeor fooking Mormont.

Karl was beginning to lose hope. He could not make sense of what The Old Bear had said to him and he was still no closer to finding food or shelter. Just as the sun was beginning to go down Karl saw it, a ranger from the Night’s Watch. His revenge began now. He pulled out a dagger, as silent as the wind, he crept up being the ranger. When he was right behind the ranger he grabbed him and pulled the knife across his threat. However the ranger turned out and stared at him with dead blue eyes, ‘What the fook is that.’ Karl shouted. But he already knew, he had made the mistake of attacking a wight. The wight drew a longsword and the fight began. Karl killed it seventeen times but that didn’t matter, even the Legend of Gin Alley could not kill a dead man without fire, and there was no way of starting a fire out here in the Haunted Forrest. Karl needed to get away, fast. He saw an Elk standing being a tree. Using the strength of Gin Alley he threw the wight to the ground, then made a dash for the elk. As he mounted it the wight climbed back onto his feet. As Karl rode off on the Elk he heard the wight shout, ‘Not my f-cking elk!’

It later dawned on Karl how strange it was that the wight had spoke. Though he had only ever encounter wights before on the Fist of the First men they seemed incapable of speech. Quite frankly Karl didn’t care. He had one thing on his mind. Revenge on the crows who had ruined his reign over Craster’s keep. 700 silvers and Karl would have killed every man at Castle Black anyway, but this was personal, The Legend required no silver for this task.

Karl rode all night, his head hurting worse than ever. But there it was at last, The Wall, towering 700 feet into the sky, weeping in the sun. He could taste Lord Snow’s blood already. As Karl approached the wall he heard one horn blast in the distance. Being in Night’s Watch clothing made getting into Castle Black almost as easy as killing the men there would be. As he rode through the gate into Castle Black he was greeted by two rangers. The look on their faces when Karl pulled down his hood. They both whirled their horses around and fled south, along down the Kingsroad. Castle Black was in dismay. Men were running around aimlessly. ‘The legend is back’ they cried, ‘he’s come to fook us til’ we’re dead.’ Karl stood in the middle of the yard, taking in their fear. When everyone had retreated only one remained outside.

'Lord Snow.' Karl said, bowing mockingly. Then Karl looked around, 'No wildling c-nt to save you this time' Karl advanced. Suddenly from out of nowhere a white shape hurtled towards him, 'FOOKING COWARD' Karl screamed, as Ghost was on him. Ghost snapped at his neck, trying to rip his throat out. Karl's head hurt so much it felt as though it were about to explode but he managed to roll to the side, giving him a moments break from the beast's attacks. Ghost snapped his head to the side, making another attack on Karl. But this time The Legend was ready. He lurched forward and drove his daggers into each of the wolfs eyes. Ghost howled in pain. Karl then grabbed the beast and threw his head back, when Ghost howled again Karl drove a dagger down its throat, the beast was silenced.

Karl looked up at Lord Snow, smiling. He stared back at Karl with the same blank expression that c-nt always had on his face. He seemed to care that his wolf was dead even less than when he lost his wolf beyond the wall. The fight was short and sweet. Lord Snow may have wielded Valyarian Steel but he was no match for The Legend of Gin Alley. They traded several bows, as Snow made an attack from the left Karl drove his dagger into his side with such force it went straight through Lord Snow’s armour. Snow stopped, staring at Karl, his expression still not changed. The Legend took the dagger out, then stabbed him again. ‘FOOKING C-NT IN STEEL PLATE, FOOKING COWARD’ Karl screamed as he repeatedly stabbed Jon. After stabbing Jon one-hundred and seventy four times he kicked him over. Lord Snow didn’t quite fall to the ground, his body spun around, and he fell bent over a barrel. Karl came up behind him, ready to slit his throat. Somehow Lord Snow was still alive, just about breathing. Apparently the one-hundred and seventy four stab wounds had not been enough to finish him. Karl stood back for a moment, looking at The Old Bears steward slumped over a barrel. Suddenly The Old Bears words made perfect sense to Karl, as he unlaced his breeches.


Courtesy of IMDB Game of Thrones. The bearer of good news.

hunger 6: here comes mighty blighty [x]

(via jencarpenters)

Lmao!

minimalist asoiaf
→ "ghosts of the rebellion"

(via eliaofdorne)

#cool  
 
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