couple days ago, i finally finished a dance with dragons the fifth and most current novel in george r r martin's a song of ice and fire series. PLZ DON'T FKN TELL ME JON IS DEAD GRRM OR I WILL KILL YOU YOU WRINKLY GEEKY OLD MAN. spoiler just there. anyway i can totally see why adwd was far more fulfilling compared to a feast for crows the previous yet parallel novel. asoiaf feels so incomplete without jon's and tyrion's stories. in fact my favorite quote to come out of the series so far is said by tyrion all the way back in a game of thrones the very first novel

why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what’s on the other side?

i hope it doesn't take grrm another five years to release the winds of winter. more so, i hope he doesn't die en route to ~the land of always winter~

maybe it's because i watched the hbo series before reading any of the novels, but i'm desperately partial towards the starks. my heart, it is jon and robb. and arya will forever be my hero. and though it took a while, sansa's part in the ~game of thrones~ has become, for me, one of the more captivating. i hope she grows some stark balls soon though, she's perfectly placed to wreak all kinds of havoc. i only wish i/grrm hadn't lost sight of bran.
i love charles dance, so of course i love tywin lannister in the hbo series. the lannister brothers, too, are so fascinating. i can't bring myself to hate either jaime or tyrion. especially once jaime started getting his own pov chapters. cersei though can go suck a fish.
AND WHAT TO DO WITH THEON. JFC I NEVER KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THAT BOY.
and dany. man, how can such a central character be so NOT central (to me?). come on george, there's some gorgeous rookie actress playing the role of your dragon queen. give hbo something to do with her.

anyway, since it'll definitely be a few years before twow (but at least only a few more months before season three!!!) and i don't think i can handle rereading all five books, in the meantime i will just rewatch the series and write fanfic

preview of some yet-untitled jon/robb. as much as i find their faces so damned pretty in the series, i rather prefer their physical descriptions in the novel. dunno if i'll really ever finish/post this just because it's so rambly right now but w/e

Snow. The name given to those of the North of no name--who will never be allowed a name--to those who will never be allowed a place that isn’t of disrepute. As if they’ve come from the sky itself, fallen and adrift themselves, a constant and inevitable phenomenon. Natural born children, bastards are otherwise called. Products of the most basic--and what noble people considered the basest--expression of human nature. Natural, yet detestable.

But Robb Stark could no more detest Jon Snow than he could control the seasons.

Winter is coming. His lord father’s words. In the same way the cold, whether brisk or bracing or bitter, is a part of Winterfell, Jon is every bit a part Robb. The same bit they shared--the blood of Lord Eddard Stark, the snow of Winterfell and the North. This realization, of the feelings of what’s correct and what’s complete when he and Jon are together, is not the result of Winterfell’s, of Eddard Stark’s words, but of his lady mother’s stares and silences.

Lady Catelyn of House Tully. She herself would sometimes admit, humbly or humorously, that she felt an outsider to her northern lord husband’s cold, grey world. Should that not mean Jon Snow, born and bred of the North, bastard-born though he undoubtedly is, had just as much right to feel welcome in Winterfell as she who had warily married into it?

He and Jon are of an age, born mere months apart, and had been raised at the same time and place. Yet for as long as he can remember, Lady Catelyn made sure that Winterfell was not the place for Jon Snow.

There’s no preventing winter, and there had been no preventing his and Jon’s closeness. Lady Catelyn’s obvious loathing of his half-brother named Snow had simply made for Robb early on an object of innocent curiosity. Jon, after all, looked every bit like Eddard Stark as Robb looked like Catelyn Tully. Dark hair instead of coppery auburn, steely eyes instead of crystalline blue. Water solid and cold instead of wild and rushing. It was only later in life that Robb came to understand that Jon’s likeness to their father served only to fuel his lady mother’s disgust with and distrust of the boy. Jon was an ever-present reminder that Lord Eddard Stark had dishonored her.

It was only later in life that Robb came to understand that Jon’s likeness to their father served only to fuel his own affection for the boy. Jon embodies everything Robb loves about Winterfell: despite guarded, withdrawn facades, a single touch reveals an almost sublime abundance of warmth and tenderness.

“Gods, your toes are freezing.”

Robb’s laughter puffs through Jon’s hair, tickling his nose anew. In answer, he curls his legs higher and tighter around Jon’s, placing his said cold feet against Jon’s shins. If the furs they’re sharing are warm, Jon’s skin is even warmer.

“Then you aren’t doing your job properly.”

Jon hums absently, a noise equally annoyed and amused, as he wriggles his shoulders deeper under the covers and his back closer to Robb’s chest. If he notices the stirring of Robb’s cock, he makes no acknowledgement but to hum once more, though this time all in amusement.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Robb mumbles.

“Speak for yourself.”