w a r i s w a r ;
but killing a man at a wedding? horrid.
what sort of m o n s t e r, would do such a thing?
(Source: lastisle, via lady-arryn)
House Martell: Not your erotic, not your exotic
(title taken from the poem of the same name by Suheir Hammad)
I’m crawling out of my little fandom hole because three episodes in, I’m becoming increasingly irritated at how Oberyn Martell and the Dornish on a whole are being portrayed in Game of Thrones.
Apparently, when not…
"It ends in blood, as it began," said Lady Nym. "It ends when Casterly Rock is cracked open, so the sun can shine on the maggots and the worms within. It ends with the utter ruin of Tywin Lannister and all his works."
Is that how it goes, round and round forever? I ask again, where does it end? Can I take a skull to bed with me, to give me comfort in the night? Will it make me laugh, write me songs, care for me when I am old and sick?”
"War will come, whether we wish it or not," said Obara. "A boy king on the Iron Throne. Lord Stannis holds the Wall and is gathering nothmen to his cause. The two queens are squabbling over Tommen like bitches with a juicy bone. The ironmen have taken the Shields and are raiding up the Mander, deep into the heart of the Reach, which means Highgarden will be preoccupied as well. Our enemies are in disarray. The time is ripe."
"Ripe for what? To make more skulls?" Ellaria Sand turned to the prince. "They will not see. I can hear no more of this."
“She touched his face. “I was lost without you, Jaime. I was afraid the Starks would send me your head. I could not have borne that.” She kissed him. A light kiss, the merest brush of her lips on his, but he could feel her tremble as he slid his arms around her. “I am not whole without you.”
There was no tenderness in the kiss he returned to her, only hunger. Her mouth opened for his tongue. “No,” she said weakly when his lips moved down her neck, “not here. The septons…”
“The Others can take the septons.” He kissed her again, kissed her silent, kissed her until she moaned. Then he knocked the candles aside and lifted her up onto the Mother’s altar, pushing up her skirts and the silken shift beneath. She pounded on his chest with feeble fists, murmuring about the risk, the danger, about their father, about the septons, about the wrath of gods. He never heard her. He undid his breeches and climbed up and pushed her bare white legs apart.
One hand slid up her thigh and underneath her smallclothes. When he tore them away, he saw that her moon’s blood was on her, but it made no difference.
“Hurry,” she was whispering now, “quickly, quickly, now, do it now, do me now. Jaime Jaime Jaime.” Her hands helped guide him. “Yes,” Cersei said as he thrust, “my brother, sweet brother, yes, like that, yes, I have you, you’re home now, you’re home now, you’re home.” She kissed his ear and stroked his short bristly hair. Jaime lost himself in her flesh. He could feel Cersei’s heart beating in time with his own, and the wetness of blood and seed where they were joined.”
— George R.R. Martin, A storm fo swords (via queencersei)
A Storm of Swords, George R.R. Martin, the page D&D forgot to read
“Even if I am not fully conscious of what death means, I have been for most years of my life unconsciously absorbing it.”
— Franz Kafka (via jaimelannister)
(Source: blackestdespondency, via jaimelannister)
make me choose - anonymous asked: brienne or ygritte?
"All men die," he could almost hear her say, "and women too, and every beast that flies or swims or runs. It’s not the when o’ dying that matters, it’s the how of it, Jon Snow.”
“Sometimes suffering is just suffering. It doesn’t make you stronger. It doesn’t build character. It only hurts.”
— Kate Jacobs, Comfort Food (via seulray)
(Source: feellng, via wehsteros)
make me choose
- anon asked ➙ maria hill or natasha romanoff?
(Source: xenobotanist, via bookmad)