“Jaime,” Brienne whispered, so faintly he thought he was dreaming it. “Jaime, what are you doing?”

“Dying,” he whispered back.

“No,” she said, “no, you must live.”

He wanted to laugh. “Stop telling me what do, wench. I’ll die if it pleases me.”

“Are you so craven?”

The word shocked him. He was Jaime Lannister, a knight of the Kingsguard, he was the Kingslayer. No man had ever called him craven. Other things they called him, yes; oathbreaker, liar, murderer. They said he was cruel, treacherous, reckless. But never craven. “What else can I do, but die?”

“Live,” she said, “live, and fight, and take revenge.”

mayorbelle:

waiting-for-the-tardis:

IS THAT TEN

THAT’S NOT JUST TEN

THAT’S THE LIBRARY

celestedoodles:

Jim Kirk in a costume reboot of a jacket that appeared in the Wrath of Khan

forbiddenforest:

ENDER’S GAME - NOVEMBER 2013 ♦ THE ENEMY’S GATE IS DOWN