Ofbracken - Bastard Boy

I keep wondering, how many people do you need to be, before you can become yourself.

Iain Thomas, I Wrote This for You  (via wordsnquotes)

I think he’s very lonely. Lonelier than he lets on. Maybe lonelier than he even realizes.

The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), Dir. Wes Anderson (via wnq-movies)

CHARLIE HUNNAM

as King Arthur in ‘King Arthur: Legend of the Sword’.

(bonus):

▼ - childhood headcanon

▼ - childhood headcanon

His mother, mainly working at night, would sneak home every morning and wake Harry up with a start.  Despite years of this, he never got used to it, but he always forgave her.  On clear days, she would wake him and steal him away to a hilltop somewhere or the banks of the Tumblestone and they’d watch the sun begin it’s course throughout the sky.  If it was storming, they’d marvel at the lightening dancing above them.  And if there were nothing notable about the morning other than how utterly uninteresting the shade of grey the sky was colored, she’d bring him a sweet.  Sometimes Harry still wakes with a start, and his eyes dart around, half expecting to see his mother standing over him with her wicked grin.

❝  i cannot b e l i e v e                           that we are so  p o o r l y  made as  t h a t.  ❞

–– house bracken of stone hedge ; the river kings of old.

❝  everyone’s a  M O N S T E R  to someone.                      if you’re so convinced that i’m yours - I’LL BE IT.  ❞ 

––– the barbed and the bastard ; the eldest children of jonos bracken. @ofbracken

              i wish your mom had been a little stronger.                    i wish she’d stayed around a little longer.                                                                                                            i wish your dad were good.                                                                                                        i wish grown-ups understood.                                                 i wish we’d met before                                           they c o n v i n c e d you                                       LIFE was WAR.                                                                                                         – [ i wish i had more TNT ]

         i have scars on my palms and the insides of my fingers.                    there is blood in my mouth and staining my clothes.                             i have died too many times to count and come back again stronger.

                 ( are you proud of me, momma? are you proud of me, pappa? )

                     @laenahs || harold hardyng’s celebration

It had been awhile since Harry had felt at ease at a social event.  Ever since his legitimization, his schedule had been filled with ‘quaint gatherings’ that were anything but, ‘delightful evenings’ that felt like torture, and ‘modest dinners’ which contained more courses than he could count.  The load had lightened slightly after leaving the Reach soon after the doomed wedding, determined to keep a low profile (something that proved a smart idea, as while other were off being ransomed by Ironborn, Harry was at home in Stonehedge, continuing on with daily life), but as things returned to normal and people began to settle, Harry’s father had insisted that he rejoin the ranks of other Lords and Ladies in King’s Landing for the events celebrating the hostage’s returns. --- But as he looked around the dimly lit but nicely decorated tavern, rented out by the Vale’s own Young Falcon, he thought this could be an event he could enjoy.

Despite his fondness of surroundings (a tavern? felt very familiar), Harry’s blue eyes could be seen constantly flicking towards the door, with every coming and going.  He had expected to see her at the event the day before, held by Queen Cersei, as he expected Laenah would most certainly attend the proper, sanctioned event.  But either she had not made an appearance or the two had missed each other.  So there Harry sat, rather hopelessly staring at the door, hoping that her nostalgia for their shared time in the Vale would lead her to the door of a Valeman’s party.

He had no idea what he would say to her, if she were to show up.  He had left rather quickly after the wedding--after going back for her at the wedding-- so quickly, it was almost rude.  He had stayed around just long enough to count her as safe in his mind before he was off on his horse, sprinting down the Roseroad.

His eyes roamed the face of every woman who passed by, somehow wanting to believe that he had just missed her entrance.  But none passed the test, although the more ale he drank, the more they all started to look more and more like her.