Jaime Lannister’s inbox, circa Robert’s Rebellion.
1 owl… 3 versions
fucking robotech owl
THE LAST ONE
Your Southern Whited-Faced Owl may be deflated for simple storage.
They are children, Sansa thought. They are silly little girls, even Elinor. They’ve never seen a battle, they’ve never seen a man die, they know nothing. Their dreams were full of songs and stories, the way hers had been before Joffrey cut her fathers head off. Sansa pitied them. Sansa envied them.
And one more thing. About my name—Artemis—you were right. In London, it is generally a female name, after the Greek goddess of archery. But every now and then a male comes along with such a talent for hunting that he earns the right to use the name. I am that male. Artemis the hunter. I hunted you.
“
| — | Artemis Fowl the Second, the greatest boy genius in the in the world of fiction (via darwingeek) |
Joss Whedon: Hey! You guys wanna write a book together?
J. K. Rowling: Sure.
Suzanne Collins: Why not?
Shakespeare: If it is to be of a tragical nature, then I doth not protest!
Beginning of the book: Unimportant characters die.
Middle of the book: Favorite characters died.
End of the book: Everyone is dead.
George R.R. Martin: They didn't suffer enough.
