“You know it’s weird,” she says, looking past Sansa at the house. “When I left all those years ago, I never got homesick. I never thought I’d ever want to live here again and now I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
"You'll get used to it, I think. Besides you know what they say, it's not the house that makes the home, it's—”
"The people, I know."
They say better late than never...does three years count? Hehe.
To everyone who has ever read, reblogged, commented, bookmarked, or left kudos, this epilogue is for you.
i accept that a lot of the characters had to be aged up in the show but smth about jaime being like 40 n still fucking his sister just feels unreasonable to me like girl its time to hang it up how long u gonna keep doin this...
you know people make fun of ned for claiming that 3 year old rickon is too old to be scared of direwolves, but I bet he was even worse with baby jon. I mean at least the other kids had catelyn to balance his parenting out, but jon only ever had ned for emotional support. like imagine newborn jon crying because he’s hungry or tired or something, and ned just picks him up, looks him straight in the eye, and imparts one of his classic Starkisms™ to him like 😐 “you’re too old for this now, jon. no more tears. we’re not in dorne anymore. you are a child of the north, and in the winter your tears will freeze on your cheeks and explode in your eyeballs and kill you violently. end this mummer’s farce while you still can.” and then eight-week-old jon immediately shuts the fuck up and never cries again (ned gives him a little forehead kiss as a reward). anyway this is why jon is Like That.
i'm conducting an experiment. everyone who's from an english speaking country state your country, regional area and what you call the following images. i need to see something
Can you explain the appeal of The Smiths? I never liked them and always wondered why they were so popular when we can pretty universally agree Morrissey is a trash person.
sorry for the late response i only opened up tumblr after a few days. funnily i was listening to the smiths when i saw this.
so, i can’t speak for others. but i started listening to the smiths when i was a teenager and a bit depressed. there’s something about their lyrics, sound and even morrissey’s singing that makes you feel like you’re not really alone with all that.
also their music is quite catchy. “i know it’s over”, “there is a light that never goes out”? even “heaven knows im miserable now” are somehow pathetically sad but in such a good way.
tbh i don’t know much about any controversy surrounding morrisey. i try my best to be informed about the artists i listen to but frankly i do not have time. i have a job, house, partner, and stressed out mother to deal with.
recently the most research i do on artists is making sure new artists aren’t AI.
15, 47, 56 in Misc. smut prompts for GENDRYA!!! (guess who ;))
from these drabble prompts
15. “touch yourself. i want to watch” 47. “just like that.” 56. “on the counter/table/etc” - for @yanak324
rein me in | e | gendrya - part one posted now!
Gendry watches her attentively, even smiles when she leans against the dining table with crossed arms. It’s sturdy and doesn’t move with her weight, clearly something made by his own two hands.
“Why did you invite me here?” She asks.
“Why did you want to get a drink?”
His response is quick and snappy. It makes her bite her lip and stare at the warmth behind his light blue eyes.
“Nostalgia,” Arya tries shrugging. “Your turn.”
He walks over to her and leans on the table beside her. “Curiosity,” he answers. He’s close enough that now she can smell the soap on his skin and the cologne he wears.
“Curiosity?”
“About you. Where you’ve been. Who you’ve become.”
Arya gives him a hollowed laugh. “Has to be a good answer if I left you to do it,” she says, locking in on his gaze.
“I’m only a man, but no not entirely,” Gendry’s words are clear when he speaks. That same gravelly voice she’s always known caress her ears. “You’ve been in my life since I was fourteen and then suddenly you were no longer part of it. Grief isn’t reserved only for the dead.”
“Ouch,” Arya instinctively runs her fingers through her hair. “And here I’ve been– avoiding Winterfell for the better half of a decade.”
Gendry holds her by the jaw and frowns. “What the fuck are we doing?” He asks, voice dripping with indignation. “You wouldn’t come here after avoiding me for all these years, Arya. I saw you watching me outside the market.”
Arya leans into his palm and lets her eyes flutter. “I did a lot of things. I did have fun. And I came back home like I was always going to.” She puts her hand over his and holds onto him.
His hand is warm and rough, just the thought of him tugs at her heart.
When Gendry finally kisses her, a familiar warmth spreads over her body. It consumes her entire being. Nothing matters except the two of them in that moment.
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