"I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns."
"Nice, though. A nice oak tree."
He was no dragon, Dany thought, curiously calm. Fire cannot kill a dragon.
Silly doodle of The Avengers, Nick Fury and Loki at the Cinema watching a 3D movie.
Loki stop using your Phone D:
And we ask the Stranger not to kill us in our beds tonight for no damn reason at all.
→ alayneestone asked: house stark or house lannister?
You want society to accept you, but you can’t even accept yourself.
Oh when you walk by every night
Talking sweet and looking fine
I get kind of hectic inside
Oh baby I’m so into you
Darling if you only knew
All the things that flow through my mind x
One flesh, one heart, one soul. His mouth twisted. She wasted no time proving how much those vows meant to her, did she? Well, what did you expect, dwarf?
because he just, like, refuses to go out with me
There were three sorts of Dornishmen, the first King Daeron had observed. There were the salty Dornishmen who lived along the coasts, the sandy Dornishmen of the deserts and long river valleys, and the stony Dornishmen who made their fastnesses in the passes and heights of the Red Mountains. The salty Domishmen had the most Rhoynish blood, the stony Dornishmen the least.
All three sorts seemed well represented in Doran’s retinue. The salty Dornishmen were lithe and dark, with smooth olive skin and long black hair streaming in the wind. The sandy Dornishmen were even darker, their faces burned brown by the hot Dornish sun. They wound long bright scarfs around their helms to ward off sunstroke. The stony Dornishmen were biggest and fairest, sons of the Andals and the First Men, brownhaired or blond, with faces that freckled or burned in the sun instead of browning.
The lords wore silk and satin robes with jeweled belts and flowing sleeves. Their armor was heavily enameled and inlaid with burnished copper, shining silver, and soft red gold. They came astride red horses and golden ones and a few as pale as snow, all slim and swift, with long necks and narrow beautiful heads. The fabled sand steeds of Dorne were smaller than proper warhorses and could not bear such weight of armor, but it was said that they could run for a day and night and another day, and never tire.