Stay afraid but do it anyway. What’s important is the action. You don’t have to wait to be confident. Just do it and eventually the confidence will follow.
Carrie Fisher (via onlinecounsellingcollege)
cherry valley forever
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shark vs the universe
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roma★
trying on a metaphor
One Nice Bug Per Day
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oozey mess
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Stay afraid but do it anyway. What’s important is the action. You don’t have to wait to be confident. Just do it and eventually the confidence will follow.
Carrie Fisher (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

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iirongauntlet:
asoiaf houses — HOUSE STARK of Winterfell is one of the Great Houses of Westeros and the principal noble house of the north. In days of old they ruled as Kings of Winter, but since Aegon's Conquest they have been Wardens of the North and ruled as Lords of Winterfell. Their seat, Winterfell, is an ancient castle renowned for its strength. Their sigil is a grey direwolf racing across a field of white. Their words are "Winter is Coming", one of only a few house mottoes to be a warning rather than a boast.
♕ Jon & Daenerys: Episode 308/309
I told you, he’s still one of them. He’s a crow. He’ll always be a crow. You were right the whole time | It’s hard to collect wages from a corpse. I’m sure the sellswords prefer to fight for the winning side. I’d like to talk to the Titan’s Bastard about winning. He may not agree to meet. He will. A man who fights for gold can’t afford to lose to a girl.
RHAENYS:
JON SNOW’S FATE WAS A RATHER DULL AFFAIR to ponder on. For Rhaenys, at least. Despite his refusal to bend the knee and his branding as a traitor because of it, Rhaenys doubts he will suffer a traitor’s fate. Daenerys knows better than to start her reign by killing a Stark — even a bastard. The parallels between her and Grandfather would be too many and she’s already fighting the fear and suspicion that comes with being the Mad King’s daughter. And even if Daenerys was cross enough with him to want him gone, her advisors and allies would dissuade her from any rush decisions. But he doesn’t know that.
❝ The Lannisters. ❞ She retorts. ❝ Was it not Tywin Lannister the one who ordered the deaths of your half-brother, his wife and unborn child? ❞ At least they were offered quick deaths. Her hands are clenched into fists to keep from shaking. There are times when her anger is blinding, so blinding that it threatens to consume her fully. What would her kind, gentle mother say of her daughter in these moments? ❝ Was it not Cersei Lannister the one who threw your father in the Black Cells for her little cub to behead later? ❞ The princess scoffs and takes those few strides that put her in front of the Northerner. ❝ No. No, we are not the same. I intend to make ALL those who hurt me and my family pay. Justice will come for everyone, not just some of them. ❞ The wind is indeed stronger at the edge but it only seems to flare the fire burning within her and cause her eyes to water — she’ll pretend it’s the wind. ❝ Do you know who stands guard at Cersei’s side? ❞
Indeed he’d wandered into the dragon’s den. It was the not the monsters who soared roaring through the skies he needed to fear, but their masters. The Queen and her aunt, who had the dragon’s fire burning bright and hot within her as well. Rhaenys Targaryen might have the Dornish look to her, but she was at Targaryen through and through. Did she even feel the cold bite of the wind now when she was like this? Jon made himself to look directly into those hot embers that glowed behind her dark eyes, his mouth setting into a thin hard line. He was no dragon, he was hardly a wolf, but he would not sully the memory of his father and his brothers by being cowed by a Targaryen either.
“Jaime Lannister, so styled the Kingslayer for a reason. I know.” Lord Stark might never have spoken of what happened during Robert’s Rebellion, but being the children that they were, he and Robb and the others had heard of the atrocities committed by the Lannisters and their ilk to the far south. A babe still at his mother’s breast with his head dashed in and a mother who’d been brutalized. He knew those stories. Just as he knew in great detail of what this woman’s family had done to his and his own. There was an uncle and his father’s father that he’ll never know.
“But I remember it was your own niece barely half a day past who’d begged for me to relinquish old hatreds. For the sake of protecting the realm I’ll do what I must in order to ensure that we all survive the Long Night and it will include turning a blind eye to what the Lannisters have done to my family.” It was then that his mouth twisted into a mockery of a smile, too bitter and full of venom for it to sit easy upon his features. Yet he’d seen the bright glimmering of her eyes and Jon would owe her that much honesty. “You ask me who serves at Cersei’s side, but Daenerys Targaryen also has a Lannister serving as her hand. I might call Tyrion Lannister a friend, but when you’ve had your fill of the Lannister blood in King’s Landing, will your thirst have your turn on your own advisor?”
FATHER:
“I have no doubt that you’ll do me proud.” There was a reason that Ned was sending Jon to the Resistance, why he had picked Jon over Robb, over anyone else. He trusted Jon, he knew that he would make the right decisions and that he would be willing to go. While Robb would be willing to go, he needed his first born to be safe and far away from others. Ned knew that their family needed to be split and he hated the idea of it but it was necessary for their protection. He did not want to leave Catelyn but they both understood, no matter how hard the decision was to make. In a way, Ned hoped that he would be able to walk out of his alive.
“I’m not surprised.” There was little surprise at the idea of Jon joining the Resistance as it was exactly the place where Jon belonged. He could help, communicate back and forth, they could whisper secrets but Jon could also further his training more so than on Westeros. There was little he could do here but once he was off the planet, there was more freedom, more desire, more knowledge and masters out there that could help him. Ned knew that Jon would excel.
“The others are going to be hidden, they’ll receive their training still, as we all need to be on our toes. With you in the Resistance, I want you to continue yours, better yourself. I have this for you.” Ned handed Jon a small medallion on a leather thread that could easily be worn around his neck. “It has all the locations of where everyone will be. I know of some of them and I do not need to know the rest for their own safety. If I mange to escape, it will have my planned location. When it’s time, I want you to seek our your siblings and Catelyn. Bring them together and keep them safe. Before that, you are to work and blend yourself into the Resistance. Do not look as if you are from Westeros. Train, better yourself, learn everything you can about the First Order and this planet destroying weapon the First Order has. Do not speak about this conversation to anyone either, Jon, keeping between us.”
He’s scared.
It’s as though his heart’s dropped straight into a lake of dark and frigid waters and Jon has to force himself not to shiver. But he can’t deny that twisting in his gut that reminds him all too much of those day of childhood. Days when he’d been a young boy, waking with tears in his eyes from nightmares that he could never quite remember save for the monsters and shadows. It all felt so very real to him then. And it’d always been Father who’d find and comfort him, Father who’d gather him within his strong arms and whisper soothing words and promises that he was safe. He would always be safe.
The shadows and monsters are real now. Jon still has the same dreams and he still wakes gasping for breath. And maybe, he still wishes that he had Ned Stark to hold him and whisper all those sweet promises that everything would be fine so long as he was with him, but he’s older now. Jon knows better than to believe that one man can stand against a dark that threatens to swallow even the brightness of the stars.
But just as he’d needed Father then and still needs him now if Jon were being honest with himself, times have changed. He swallows that fear, buries it deep until he can stare at his father with his chin raised and can speak without a tremor in his voice. “I won’t fail you.” But his hand still curls tight around the medallion, its edges biting into his skin. His last link to his family when he leaves and dread tingles at the edges of his awareness, the same sense of warning that’s been with him since he could remember. He looks at his father, feeling as though this meeting is a goodbye and thinks how unfair it is when his father had only just returned.
“I don’t have to leave yet, do I?” This is why the Jedi Order of old had always warned of loving too much and too deeply. Jon loved his family, he loved his brothers and sister and his father, he loved Winterfell and his loved Westeros. Leaving had always felt like tearing a part of himself away. He knew what was needed of him – it was no longer his family or home or even his world that was in danger now, but the galaxy itself. A planet destroying weapon, it was just like the stories. He shook his head, feeling his mouth twist into a bitter smile. “No, of course I have to. I’ll pack and say my goodbyes. You need only to tell me where to find the Resistance and I’ll do the rest. No one will suspect a thing.”

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DANY:
There was no going back.
It was silent acceptance between the two as she watched him shut the door. They could never be truly alone, there were too many opportunities for their exposure. There was apart of Daenerys that knew she should be more cautious and not fall into bed with another man – to allow herself to be this vulnerable. This could be another mistake, another lapse in her judgement to appease her loneliness. Her heart was dangerous to follow and so many have died from the decisions she’d made. Jon would be another life that would be taken because of her foolishness. ’No.’ she vowed, ‘He will not be taken from me.’ In that moment, she relinquished the fear that seem to sit upon her heart. Jon Snow would be hers and she vowed to protect his life.
Even if it meant the loss of her own.
Despite the darkness that engulfed everything she knew, he was the anchor that kept her from drowning. Losing Visieron left a gaping wound in her heart she wasn’t sure would ever be filled. But his survival from that fateful encounter with the Night King was a testament of his strength. They would fight together and defeat whatever obstacle that stood in their way.
She felt the oddest sensation consumed her entire being and she was certain she would fall right where she stood. She could hear the beating of her heart and all of her blood rushed to her head as he came closer. His calloused hands were gentle against her skin, feeling the pad of his thumb sweeping across her cheek. She closed her eyes, feeling the warm of his breath tingling against her lips.
And he kissed her.
His lips were soft against hers and she noticed how gentle he was. He pulled away and she opened her eyes to see slate orbs staring back at her intently. She could sense his urgency, but he was holding back and Daenerys blamed herself. Even in this moment he didn’t know what she wanted and sought her permission. Whatever he needed from her she would give freely and without hesitation. The sound of her name coming from his lips sent a shiver down to her spine and sudden urgency to have his body pressed against hers.
“Jon.” his name being sacred, a prayer she had always needed.
“Jon.” she repeated his name suddenly feeling light headed as her grip on him became tighter. “I want you to stay with me. Always.”
IT WAS ALL that he needed to hear.
Every gesture, every touch of her hands against his skin was searing even through the layers of fabric and yet he’d needed to hear that vow. Still feeling so very much like a boy, he broke into a smile at those spoken words and felt the heavy weight of the past handful of years lifting. This was a woman true to her many styles and she’d broken through his restraint. He’d said as much to Davos upon that rocky wall with the winds nearly threatening to blow them into the seas. This was not a time for indulgences. Not with what he’d seen with his own eyes in the far North, not with the darkness that was threatening to plunge their world into a night that would never end. But it was too late to turn back now. Much too late. Sometimes Jon thought he’d passed that point the moment he thought to set sail from White Harbour.
How many nights had he argued with himself about this? Trying to rationalize that war was not the time for passion? But he’d been drawn to her, pulled slowly and inexorably to her until he’d been caught by those fires. And now he could hardly bring himself to regret this moment with her cradled between his hands, her body pressed against his with their shared heat so intense and so burning that he could hardly breathe. This was dangerous and all Jon could do was smile because he was hers. Always.
“You may yet live to regret those words, Your Grace.”
His hands fell to grasp hers, thumbs tracing and tripping against her knuckles, her skin soft and smooth against the rough callouses of his touch. Slowly he lifted her fingers, pressing them to his chapped lips, still watching her through the low light of her cabin. In the candlelight he could still see the colour of those violet eyes that shone with bright with heated emotion. A look that was a gift that he would take and horde amongst the other many and small treasures she’d given him in their time together. All the smiles and the soft expressions, all the sacrifice and compromises she’d made when she had no reason at all. Everything she’d given and given so freely and lightly with barely a thought of the consequences.
I am hers and she is mine.
Slowly he released her hands, still feeling the heat of her skin against his and reached up, touching her hair that was impossibly soft even pulled tight in those braids. There must be a story to them, but now all he cared was to undo them. Fumbling awkward fingers worked to loosen the weavings, watching as bundled strands broke free to fall like curtains of silver-gold that framed her face. He liked it when she had her hair down, it was a look that suited her.
“There is nothing in this world or the next that can compare to you.”
STRANGER:
he was correct on that - that she was not from the north . no twist of fate from the seventh hell could ever make her wish for one moment that she was from the north . such freezing , frostbite , and starvation SUFFOCATED HER ! and so she would leave it rightfully untouched , rightfully claimed by the man and his brothers in black . terrible though the conditions were , she did not allow herself to dwell upon her discomfort . to do so would be to allow icicles into the pale of her features and bring dangerous sluggishness to her thoughts . aching cheeks aside , and frozen lips aside , phasma intended on answering in such a way that left his knowledge eclipsed in shadow . ❝ i have no reason to flee south when there is nothing for me there . ❞ little comfort , no more family - not when she had sent an arrow into her brother’s chest and turned her back on the rest . she was blunt , yet she kept herself pensive enough , she hoped && plotted , that he wouldn’t dare turn her away . ❝ i bring no others . you can scout the land yourself . ❞
THERE CAME a sharp gust of wind, piercing and cold enough to slice through his many layers of fur and leather. It was a whistling howl, mournful enough to make their surroundings all the more bleak and desolate when there was naught but snow for the eye to see. But Jon knew the dangers of that belief when there were foes who knew how to hide and make use of even this barren land. He had scouts, seasoned rangers who were his eyes and ears who would bring him what tidings they found. It was how he was here with this woman after all and he believed her claim. If she had friends then they were like to be dead or gone. Or worse.
“The south is safe.” But for how long? Another question that he was like to never know the answer. Still that was reason enough for many of the northfolk to go south. The young and old alike, the people who’d once laughed within their cups at the southron fools who were now making that long journey past the neck for safer climes while the ones who remained behind were the bigger fools. His almost smiled at the thought, but it was like the cold winds had scrubbed away any mirth he might have once possessed. “You must have seen the rush of men and women on your way here. Most would stop and wonder at the cause. Had you asked then you’d know that only death and danger is the only welcome you’ll find in the North these days.”
Jon Vs White Walkers by Luis Lopez Lopez
For you, I thought a white wolf more apt.
requested-ish by @am-bient

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”AMONG GODS, AMONG FRIENDS” (ASOIAF Commission) ***SPEEDPAINT VIDEO | ***COMMISSION INFO! | ***TIP JAR
Following the Sansa commission I did for the same person. Thank you so much once more for another fun challenge, Rosa! <3 TOOLS: Paint Tool SAI | Intuos Pro Pen & Touch | Around 7h Total
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The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you.
- requested ( @cburkelton )
iconic
It makes me tremble. What. To think back. I remember exactly how I thought life would be.
Anne Carson, from The Beauty of the Husband; “Sad Severe Tango Dance Of Love And Death…,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

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i am afraid that if i open myself i will not stop pouring. (why do i fear becoming a river. what mountain gave me such shame.)
Jamie Oliveira, “Erosion” (via wordsnquotes)
marthajefferson:
Beautiful, and willful, and dead before her time.
Emma Rigby as Lyanna Stark