#celine theon

[dorianfiftyshadesof-gray]

Commentary: Game of Thrones 7x03

-7x03 guys! let's see if I get a broken heart again, shall we? -"Previously on Game of Thrones" *inhales* -Fuck you Thrones! gotta remind me of this little bean dying! -I'm Euron Babejoy's biggest stan. Love that extra cuck -The gentle hum of HBO followed the mighty intenseness of the GoT theme. Love it -Remember when the Bolton sigil was on Winterfell. sad reacts only -hOLY FUCK WE'RE STARTING WITH JON AND TYRION AND DAENY I CANNOT BREATHE! -Missandei is like an air hostess on QANTAS rn -if Davos dies this season, we riot! -Tyrion asking of Sansa. This is what I wanted! -Cheeky bants between everyone's favourite character™ and Jonny Snow -Naw mate, you're a Targaryen -I love Melisandre. She's had such a subtle arc -Varys is acting like such a salty bitch oml -hERE WE GO!! -they're looking at each other this is too much! -soooo many titles... -Daeny fake smiling highkey -He's your granddaddy too Jonny Snow, well great-grandaddy..i think -Daeny is so strong and powerful bless -”believe in yourself”: Daenerys “Rastafarian” Targaryen 2017 -Daeny trying so hard to get Jon to bend the knee with her speeches. Like the Night King is coming for that ass and he doesn't give a flying dragon about who you are and what you think you deserve. -i need Davos as my friend. I need this level of support -i knew they wouldn't get along. -oh shit. Jonny Snow is gonna get locked up -What did Varys say, count me curious -Hey there Celine Theon! lookin like Rose from Titanic -EURON!!! MY PIRATE DADDY YEEEESSSSSS! -"This is making me hard" oh Euron you horny piece of trash you -then again, Yara is my Salt Queen and no one treats my Salt Queen that way -lol "what a twat" true -What's up with all these peasants wasting food like no tomorrow?? -I bet Cersei still isn't going to marry him -Euron just keeps on throwing shade at Jaime every chance he gets -Haha knew it. You get no wifey, Euron -"Advice?" *gives confused look* "Does she like it gentle or rough?" *JAIME TRIGGERED* "The finger in the bum" *JAIME EXPERIENCES A TRIGGERING HE'S NEVER EXPERIENCED BEFORE* -Jaime blinks so intensely the 7 kingdoms almost became 8 -I actually feel empathy for Cersei right now. She really did love Myrcella. Her love for her children is really her only redeeming quality. and I also love how Game of Thrones emphasises how important a mother’s love for her children is, especially a mother’s love for her daughter. -oh shit what's Cersei gonna do -oh shit Cersei did that! -having to sit and watch your daughter die in front of you is pretty harsh, but i think pretty deserved -we gonna see some gold star incest now? -when you say no but she wants the succ -i'd definitely give Jaime the succ. He's sweet sugar daddy -this is like the first time we've seen Cersei and Jaime this intimate. like just looking into each other's eyes. still don't ship it but it's something to think about. -Oh hey there Mycroft acting exactly like Mycroft -Lena Headey is incredible at this whole acting shinding aye -if I had a shot of vodka every time Jon Snow was looking into the distance brooding, i'd be dead from fucked up livers -Jon confirmed top tier brooder by Tyrion -Philosophical chats w/ Tyrion Lannister -Tyrion puts everything into perspective -"Are you trying to present your own statements as ancient wisdom?" me in exams -Lol named after her brother and his uncle -They're both so similar. Little stubborn babies -Let's see how SanSan is doing -Fuck off Baelish -Sansa is being such a wise Queen. I am very pleased with her progress -Once again, Fuck off Baelish -Sansa of the Sass™ -That's some okay advice, I'll give him that -ARE WE GONNA HAVE ANOTHER STARK REUNION!!!!??? -OH MY HEART -i'm crying. i'm gone! -Why is Bran looking calm af while mascara is dripping down my face -"I can't be the lord of Winterfell, I'm the three eyed raven." Bran sounds like he just got back from burning man. -Sansa is me about Bran's storyline like "!?!?!?!?!?" -Is he talking about her goddamn wedding to Ramsay (who i miss dearly partly cause i've recently rewatched Misfits and Iwan Rheon is such a gift) -Sansa getting a Vietnam flashback -Jorah the Explorer has healed pretty quick. He used to look like when you pull the cheese of your pizza and now looks all sexy and scarred. -Jorah the Explorer is an awful liar tbh -well Samwell is fucked -it seems as if everyone's paths have crossed again this season -Hell yeah Samwell! -Slughorn acting like a mum who's son did the wrong thing but was proud all the same -But the mum still doesn't reward the son -Daeny wants to get her dragons out *wink wink nudge nudge* -Please don't let Grey Worm die -Oh my god Tyrion you sewer legend! -*feels relief* Grey Worm didnt die -oml Grey Worm did the sexy taking off the helmet thing -Fucking Greyjoys! always here to crash someone's party -Jaime sure does look good on a horse. He's like the dude from the Old Spice ad! -Oh nice! Highgarden looks super beautiful! and it's probably going to be the last time we see it -"He really was a cunt, wasn't he" Olenna bless -has Jaime got some type of Stolkhome Sydrome? Jaime please listen to reason! -Olenna being all Oprah on Jaime's ass -NO! Olenna can't die! Please no! -Olenna just dropped the mic on Jaime like wtf! -So one of my faves is dead now. Thanks a lot dicks. Until next week

[magalidragon]

paris is always a good idea | a Jonerys Drabble

Thank you @youwerenevermine​ for my wonderful birthday gift, I love it so much and I love Paris so much and Jonerys and you for making this for me so I felt inspired and wrote a quick little drabble thing, lol. It’s only the fourth time I’ve written Jonerys in a modern, non-Westeros world, but it was fun!  And I wanna’ go back so much!  Paris, je t’aime!

They met while in university, oddly enough, as fate would have it, on her birthday.

She had been there to study art, for a year abroad, savoring every last second wandering the wide, arched hallways of the Louvre, staring at grand masters for hours on end, burning the vibrant colors and mesmerizing brushstrokes into her memory, wishing she could be as good as them one day.  One day, someone would have her art in their house, and proudly boast they'd gotten it back when she was but a nobody, painting on the streets or in the grassy parks.  

Since it was her birthday, she decided to treat herself, and instead of heading straight to the university to get some time in the studio, she decided to get an ice cream at Berthillon, heading to the Ile-St-Louis instead of to the metro, taking her time to admire, as she often did, the glory of Notre Dame, it’s gargoyles and buttresses.

At the glacier she took her time selecting a flavor, did not even mind paying the exorbitant price and shouldered through tourists taking refuge from a cold rain that had begun to fall. She savored it, the clean water bouncing off her peat coat and the beanie she’d tugged over her silver hair.

She was about to set off, to eat her ice cream and wander into the Marais, perhaps drop down into the Latin Quarter— maybe take a trip to Chanel or Dior or Celine to admire the creations she couldn’t afford— when her ice cream went flying, straight onto the wet sidewalk. Where a mass of pidgins attacked it with gusto.

“Merde! Faites attention!” she shouted, stomping her Doc Marten on the ground in petulant annoyance.

The man who had bumped her because he’d been roughhousing with another friend had been apologetic.  He bought her another and said his name was Robb Stark. He was from Scotland, was on spring break with his buddies, which she didn’t care about. To apologize he invited her for a drink, especially when the worker who she’d told it was her birthday had commented on it again when she got another ice cream.

She figured why not?  He was attractive, sorry, and nice enough so she agreed, although she had commented his French was terrible best to speak English. “You’re English?” he had teased.

“Half and half,” she answered. English father, French mother.

At the comptoir where she suggested they meet, in Montmartre, she brought her roommate Missandei and Missandei’s boyfriend Grey. It was just a drink and they’d leave and go to the dinner Missandei planned to take her to anyway.

Except that’s where she met him.

The dark, brooding figure at the tiny table in the corner, ignoring Robb and Robb’s friend Theon, and a couple others, favoring silence and his drink. He was in all black, barely acknowledging her and slipped out for a smoke when Robb began to shamelessly flirt. She didn’t care about Robb, she cared about him.

Jon.

She exited, saw him lighting a cigarette against a lap post. She flicked her coat collar up and sidled towards him. “Puis-j’en avoir un?”

“Sorry I don’t speak,” he began, and his eyes— black in the orange lamplight glow— flicking to her. He smiled gently “French.”

She smiled and repeated her question in English.  “Can I have one?  A smoke  that is?”

He stuck the cigarette between his pouty, sinful lips, framed with a cropped dark beard, and reached into his coat pocket, removing a pack. She took one delicately and he lit it, cupping his hands around the tip so the wind didn’t blow it out.

A stream of smoke escaped her nostrils when she puffed and she smiled up at him, hoping he got the hint. “Do you like Paris?”

“Not especially.”

“Aw come on,” she teased. She hummed, closing her eyes and taking in the cold night. The electric buzz is people on the street and at the cafes and bars around them. “Paris is always a good idea.”

“Someone famous said that.”

“Audrey Hepburn.”

He sucked on the cigarette and smiled, a tiny one, the curve of his lip sly rather than shy.  “You aren’t in there with the rest of them.”

“Because it’s my birthday and I want to do what I want to do.”  She stubbed the cigarette out on the post and turned, disposing it in the bin by the door.  A quick text to Missandei: I’m going to skip dinner, I think I have a date, she turned and studied him.  “I’m…”

“Dany,” he said. He shrugged, finishing his smoke. “I remember.”  

Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t think you were listening when Robb introduced me.”

“I was.”  He pulled the tartan scarf around his neck tighter.  He glanced towards Sacré-Cœur, illuminated white in the lights around its base. He smirked at her.  “You going back in?”

She shook her head. “No,” she drawled. She followed his gaze to Sacré-Cœur. “Have you been up there?”

“No.”

“You should. Some of the best views of Paris.”

He chuckled, voice tight. “You should invite Robb.”

“I think he might be a third wheel.”

It took him a second, the gears in his mind turning, understanding what she was saying. He cocked his head. His black curls were in a mess around his face. A few scattered rain drops landed on them, and he shook it free like a dog. Or a wolf, she thought, noting the animal embroidered on the edge of his scarf.

He narrowed his eyes again. “I told you I don’t really like Paris.”

“Why?”

“It’s loud. Busy. Dirty.”

She laughed. “Every city is like that but in Paris it’s different.”

“Why?”

Her bravado got the better of her and she stepped towards him, linking her arm through his. If he didn’t get it now, he was a stupid fool who deserved it when she kicked him into the gutter. “Because,” she murmured, rising to her toes, trying to gaze as directly as she could into his eyes, which she now saw were actually gray. His breathing quickened. “You’re with me.”

The wolf got the point with that comment. He allowed her to keep her arm around his and lead him towards the cathedral.  They spoke of nothing and anything on the long walk through Montmartre to the highest point in the city.  

He was in Paris for a research trip.  He was studying medieval weapons and was going out to Bayeux to study some relics. His cousin Robb and friends came along for the free trip.  They spoke about being starving artists in their field-- her literally an artist as it were.  They talked about Paris-- how much he disliked it, how much she adored it.  The top of Sacre-Coeur might have changed his mind, but he pretended he still didn’t get the appeal, so she dragged him back down to the streets, to her favorite all-night boulangerie, into the metro and across town to the Eiffel Tower, spinning in circles on the Champs du Mars.  They ran across the Pont-de-la-Concorde and across the Tullieries.  They wandered down the Seine, smoked cigarettes in the doorsteps of old buildings in the Latin Quarter, and drank cheap wine in one of the tourist-cafes near the Jardin du Luxembourg.  

They meandered back through the streets, the city oddly quiet, the rain stopping, and she brought him to her garret studio in the Bastille, up the six flights of stairs to the top of the building, where she shed her coat and boots adn scratched her fat cat Drogon’s ears, leading him to the wrought-iron bars in one of the four windows she had, pushing the window open and crawling out, up onto the roof where she wanted to show him something.  

“Look,” she directed, when he climbed up next to her-- less gracefully-- pointing to the lit-up Eiffel Tower.  

He cursed under his breath.  “It’s gorgeous.”

“It’s my favorite place in Paris.  The rent is steep, but it’s worth it for this.”  She chuckled.  “And it has the best view.”

He whispered.  “Yes, it does.”  

And to her surprise, since she didn’t realize the time, the tower began to twinkle, the 20,000 lights across its metal beams flickering and she glanced sideways; he wasn’t watching the tower, but her face.  She arched her brows.  “You know, the lights twinkle for five minutes every hour, on the hour.”  She smiled and shrugged, whispering.  “It’s a sign that you’re supposed to return to Paris.”

Instead of saying anything, like how silly that was, he leaned in and cupped her face in his wide palm, callused and warm, bringing her face to meet his, kissing gently, in the twinkly glow of the lights.  He pulled back a moment later, breathing, “I think I like Paris.  And you’er right...this place has the best view.”  His eyes were wide on hers, focused.  She chuckled, nodding in agreement, and pulled him back to her for another kiss.

That night she savored every moment with him, as they pulled each other’s clothes off slowly, kissing and touching, every smooth curve and muscle of each other, each hard ridge and plane of his strong, muscular body or her soft, lean one.  He touched her and kissed her and stroked her in ways she’d never experienced, bringing her to heights she’d only dreamed about.  It was intense, the lights behind her closed eyelids when she came, over and over, gripping his shoulders, hair, the bedframe behind her.  He rose up and over her, in and out, their bodies moving as one, thrusting and arching.  

She didn’t know if she’d see him again; if this was a one-time, romantic Parisian adventure, but in the morning when she woke, she found him coming back inside from getting pastries and coffees, the faintest scent of cigarettes and her toothpaste on his lips when he kissed her good morning.  

They exchanged their information, vowing to speak daily, and he would see her when he got back from Bayeux.  She couldn’t believe when he did call and he kept his word.  “When you lie, words lose their meaning,” he’d explained, obviously reading her surprise.  

And when her year ended in Paris, she found herself in London, back at university, dreaming of their magical time there, even when they made time for each other, going back and forth from London to Edinburgh; and he from Edinburgh to Paris during the last couple of months of her year there.  

They made it a priority; every single year they spent time in Paris, like they were students again, on that magical night.  

They grew older, no longer needing to find the cheapest drinks and cigarettes, or staying in studio garrets, eventually able to experience some of the best hotels and restaurants the city had to offer, as he sold books and became a well-known author and professor, and her dream of becoming a famous artist came true, when sure enough, someone bought one of her paintings on the side of the Seine, someone who happened to be an art dealer in New York.  

It was their city, where they met, and where they could remember.  

After they married, about fifteen years after that fateful birthday, they visited again, and spun together on the Pont-Neuf, kissing and murmuring how they loved each other and always would, and he took her back to the tiny studio garret, which was now theirs, and sat on the rooftop and watched the Eiffel Tower sparkle.  

“Paris is always a good idea,” she murmured, head in the crook of his neck, her back to his front, wrapped in a warm blanket, and his arms tight around her middle.  She tilted her face up to his, sated, and still hopelessly in love with him.  “Take me to Paris, Jon.”

He nuzzled his nose into her cheek, whispering.  “You are Paris, Dany.”

As it was the city where they’d met, fallen in love, and found true happiness, she grinned, because that was his way of saying how much he loved her.  She brushed her lips over his, sighing, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”  

And they kissed, as the Eiffel Tower lit up, and she curled up into him, falling asleep in the city of love and lights.

[daenystheedreamer]

robb likes early kanye and also whitney houston and celine dion, theon likes nightcore edm hyperpop vocaloid and pretends to like death grips, jon likes mcr paramore (really obnoxious about the later stuff) radiohead arctic monkeys snow patrol weezer, sansa likes mitski lorde taylor swift, arya likes whatever screams the loudest (noise, industrial, death metal) and also insane clown posse, bran likes pink floyd and the beatles (really pretentious classic rock fan), rickon likes baby shark

[extraterrestrial-jinx]

Erry day all day. U know it. I know it. #Celine #dion #celinedion #everyday #allday #encoreunsoir #the #queen #she #theone #feels #likenoother #one #only #oneandonly #French #English #emotion #tears #soul #mylove

[mtyci]

The Mother Lode: CHANEL Medium Double Flap Bag + CELINE Mini Luggage + DIOR Lady Dior Handbag #mtyci #luxuryconsignment #houstonfashion #designer #resale #omg #spectacular #ohmygorgeous #santababy #santa #loveit #fashioneditorial #yesplease #coco #chanel #celine #dior #ladydior #treschic #frenchy #handbags #accessories #inthebag #wardrobe #goals #makeithappen #letsdothis #treatyourself #treatyoself #red #potd #theone (at More Than You Can Imagine) https://www.instagram.com/p/BrocZnpgWQC/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=2tgnot6ftn71

[dorianfiftyshadesof-gray]

Commentary: Game of Thrones 7x04

-got some rice and some salt and vinegar chips! let's go fam! -btw I'm a purist and didn't watch the leak like some of you hoes -already calling it: Bran is gonna spill the beans on Littlefinger trying to assassinate him -oh please let us have another Stark reunion! -like a full on sobbing Sansa and Arya hug -Bran can fuck off back to his tree -lol Jaime must be so shook right now after Olenna the Savage™ dropped the beans. -Bronn is such a fucking legend -I'd give Bronn a million castles -oh hey there Mycroft -oh shit! The blade -Bran knows, don't even try Little Finger 3 inch -Baelish acting like the stepdad trying to relate to the kids -Bran: “Chaos is a ladder.”            Littlefinger: (◉_◉) -we always need more Meera -Bran you absolute fuck! Stop acting like such a fucking prat ugh. Meera risked her life for you! She dragged your crippled ass across THE FUCKING TUNDRA!! -hERE WE GO! ARYA IS HOME YOU GUYS! -IT'S HAPPENING! -If you cucks don''t let her pass I'll scream -I'm gonna cry -when the Stark theme plays, the tears start rolling out -ONE OF YOU FUCKING TELL SAN-SAN OMFG! -Arya aka Prank Patrol -Oh fuck! -this is so emotional -they've changed so much and you really notice that now they're together -I want Arya to hit some sense into Bran -Is Bran gonna tell about Littlefinger trying to kill him once upon a time? -YES BRIENNE! YES PODRICK -Missandei and Daeny girl talk yes! -oh fuck off Jon, you're ruining girl talk -Jon looking pretty fly this ep ;) -this is some lovely Auntie and Nephew bonding -Jon: "the enemy is real, it's always been real" slowly places pieces of sidewalk chalk in his pocket -remember what happened the last time Jonny Snow was in a cave ;) -Oi Daeny, that was a low blow. Leave Tyrion alone -Brienne and Pod: one hour every morning, one hour every night -I just need to pause and breathe for a minute, we have Arya wanting some training with Brienne and Sansa looking down at her little sis all lovingly. I just miss this level of contentment on this crazy-psycho show -Arya too cool for school. Colour Pod impressed. That's right, watch out Littlefinger -Girl bonding: Game of Thrones style™ -"Who taught you how to do that?" "No one" ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) -Arya gonna kil Baelish -everyone should move to Naath guys -"Will you forgive me if I switch sides?" Gotta love Davos -Oh shit! Jon gonna punch the shit out of Celine Theon -Holy Fuckamoly! Daeny gonna attack Jaime with the Lannister army -"Dickon" [mocking chuckle] Bronn is my aesthetic -Bitches gonna be attacked -honeys, those shields aren't gonna protect you for shit -It's them crazy Dothraki -I like how they showed the men in the army shaking in fear, it brings some realism and empathy. -Daenerys “Rastafarian” Targaryen actually fucking slaying! -well that's a horrific smashing -these poor fucking horses -this show must have one crazy fucking budget -Jaime is so in over his head -lol Cersei is fucked, the Iron Bank ain't wanna fund her now -Run, Bron, Run! -oh shit! The Dragon Killer is out! -Tyrion! Find your bro! -the cinematography is flawless -Daeny you've done enough damage, go home! -Drogon is hurt and Mumma ain't happy -well there goes the Dragon Killer -Tyrion sees Jaime yes! -"Move you idiot, you fucking idiot" honestly me to all my siblings -have fun trying not to drown with full metal body armour and a fucking solid gold hand! -oh snap! That was it! That was incredible! Another spectacular war scene from Game of Thrones. A round of applause is well deserved.