always

Theon, you’re my blood. We both loved our mother. We both endured our father. Come home with me, don’t die here, alone. (…) You were a terrible baby. Do you know that? Balling all the time, never sleeping. And one night you just wouldn’t shut up, screaming like a dying pig. I walked over to your crib, I looked down at you. I wanted to strangle you. And you looked up at me and you stopped screaming. You smiled at me… Don’t die so far from the sea.

i injured my index finger today but that doesnt stop me from drawing theon i guess

"Let me die as Theon, not as Reek."

…the golden kraken of House Greyjoy, arms writhing and reaching against a black field.

Theon, Women and Femininity, Redux

There is something very frustrating in trying to explain Theon’s relation to women because I feel that telling he is sexist (as a result of his upbringing and need to belong) just isn’t enough. He is by our standards (I mean, by Westerosi standards, sexism isn’t even a problem so). But it simplifies his behavior in many ways. He is not affectionate and can be truly disrespectful too, but is sexism the only explanation? The more you think about it, the more intricate the issue becomes. I might have tackled this topic when I explained that Theon had issues with femininity and not really with women themselves. I think it needs to be established once and for all.  

What does Urban Dictionnary tells us on that term? Well, pretty much the same as Britney actually. 

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Check out this mix on @8tracks: You saved me by soundfurie. Okay here’s a better link for the mix. Happy Valentine’s day to the biggest losers of the Game of Thrones.

The night was windless, the snow drifting straight down out of a cold black sky, yet the leaves of the heart tree were rustling his name. “Theon,” they seemed to whisper, “Theon.” The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. “Please.” He fell to his knees. “A sword, that’s all I ask. Let me die as Theon, not as Reek.” Tears trickled down his cheeks, impossibly warm. “I was ironborn. A son … a son of Pyke, of the islands.”

Tertiary Characters Picspam → Alannys Harlaw Asha had last seen her mother when she stopped at Ten Towers to take on fresh water, on her way north to strike at Deepwood Motte. Alannys Harlaw never had the sort of beauty the singers cherished, but her daughter had loved her fierce strong face and the laughter in her eyes. On that last visit, though, she had found Lady Alannys in a window seat huddled beneath a pile of furs, staring out across the sea. Is this my mother, or her ghost? she remembered thinking as she’d kissed her cheek. Her mother’s skin had been parchment thin, her long hair white. Some pride remained in the way she held her head, but her eyes were dim and cloudy, and her mouth had trembled when she asked after Theon. “Did you bring my baby boy?” she had asked. Theon had been ten years old when he was carried off to Winterfell a hostage, and so far as Lady Alannys was concerned he would always be ten years old, it seemed. “Theon could not come,” Asha had to tell her. “Father sent him reaving along the Stony Shore.” Lady Alannys had naught to say to that. She only nodded slowly, yet it was plain to see how deep her daughter’s words had cut her.

I must not let him drive me mad. He can take my fingers and my toes, he can put out my eyes and slice my ears off, but he cannot take my wits unless I let him.

so lay me down

let the only sound

be the overflow