Do You Guys Have Favorite Nothing Characters That You Make Up Funlore To? I’ll Start Mine Is The Self

mysaria being the one to turn back and protect rhaenyra when daemon slipped away after making big promises and not delivering whatsoever yet again. i am going insane

Rhaenyra telling Jace a joe biden story while he’s holding in the my name is paul mua’dib atreides speech so hard he’s actively having an aneurysm meanwhile her huncle is doing ayahuasca with a goth girl he met at hot topic two hours ago and the woman holding 60% of their cool points on her back has just exploded into meat chunks over southern ohio. black council in shambles this week I fear. the green council’s default state is shambles so that’s not news

Who are you?

^ post I would make if I were british and into soccer

happy if i look back i am lost sunday from snoopy

oh they wrote this episode for me specifically

Margaery hailed them when the two columns met and fell in beside the queen's litter. Her cheeks were flushed, her brown ringlets tumbling loosely about her shoulders, stirred by every puff of wind. "We have been picking autumn flowers in the kingswood," she told them. I know where you were, the queen thought. Her informers were very good about keeping her apprised of Margaery's movements. Such a restless girl, our little queen. She seldom let more than three days pass without going off for a ride. Some days they would ride along the Rosby road to hunt for shells and eat beside the sea. Other times she would take her entourage across the river for an afternoon of hawking. The little queen was fond of going out on boats as well, sailing up and down the Blackwater Rush to no particular purpose. When she was feeling pious she would leave the castle to pray at Baelor's Sept. She gave her custom to a dozen different seamstresses, was well-known amongst the city's goldsmiths, and had even been known to visit the fish market by the Mud Gate for a look at the day's catch. Wherever she went, the smallfolk fawned on her, and Lady Margaery did all she could to fan their ardor. She was forever giving alms to beggars, buying hot pies off bakers' carts, and reining up to speak to common tradesmen. (Cersei VI, AFfC)

--

"You're not supposed to leave the column," Sansa reminded her. "Father said so."

Arya shrugged. "I didn't go far. Anyway, Nymeria was with me the whole time. I don't always go off, either. Sometimes it's fun just to ride along with the wagons and talk to people."

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. This Mycah was the worst; a butcher's boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block. Just the sight of him was enough to make Sansa feel sick, but Arya seemed to prefer his company to hers. (Sansa I, AGoT)

Sansa sketch

me: why u care so much ma i’m 21 let me live 

mutha: it’s disrespectful 

me: not wearing a bra is disrespectful to who 

mutha: in general 

me: and…? i don’t kno who that is 

mutha: 💥🔫 

me: 😬 

andrea dworkin: (phases into the frame and freezes the scene) women remain further shackled to the chains of patriarchal warfare by projecting their abject fear of male judgement onto their fellow women who dare to resist