#house envy

[cozycottagelife]

Sudbury Design Group

Landscape Architects & Garden Designers

[rooneynuala]

House Envy: All You Need To Know

By the age of nine I knew all about house envy.  Every week our school bus would drive through a more affluent area of the city. With lots of very beautiful houses along the way we would play a game: which house was ‘Mine’ – and who saw it first.   Unsplash From so many, which one to pick?  Rumours that one house had gold taps and a centrally heated driveway, another had a swimming pool,…

[shoegal73]

Love this office!!

[goosologist]

they have an exam in two days but they keep making out about it

[muzdiir]

there's a midcentury modern ranch for sale for $905,000 in the poor section of town.

for ref: the next most expensive house on the market in town is $560k. the average price for the area this house is in is ~$250k.

it's 7,100+ sqft, 4 bed, 4 bath, with an indoor pool with an enormous kitchen in the same area. theres a smaller, plebian kitchen in the main house.

someone has very high hopes

[julochka365]

29/5.2023 - an art exhibition in the most amazing building - “The White Palace” across from my favorite museum in Randbøldal. I have so much never-ending house project envy. I’m not normally a jealous person, but I am so jealous of this building. 

[saphirdevil]

bias wreckers

[greenqueenhightower]

The fact that Geeta Patel doesn’t know that F&B heavily implies that Elissa Farman took the eggs that would come to Daenerys’ hands and that Rhaena carries three eggs to the Vale, with one of them hatching to a dragon, thus leaving only two, and that GRRM made this decision purposefully, so that we know that Daenerys’ eggs don’t come from Rhaena, is disconcerting.

I’m starting to believe that the writers/producers/directors/showrunners have either never read Fire & Blood, or lack basic-level critical thinking skills.

[shortnotsweet]

[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:

BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.

— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)

Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.

That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.

Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.

(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.

She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)

“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.

“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”

“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.

“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”

“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.

“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”

[emmaxrosa]

rhaenyra & aegon; two sides of the same coin

house of the dragon, ryan condal & george r.r. martin / the diary of anaïs nin (vol. 1), anaïs nin / vikings, michael hirst / comfort me with apples, catherynne m. valente / what happened to baby cain?, jonathan goldstein / cain, josé saramago / unknown / moony moonless sky, fatima aamer bilal / sacrifice, bilal al-shams / agnus, konstantin korobov / the cruel prince, holly black

[darksisterkayde]

Harry Collett are you even real !!

[cozycottagelife]

Cozy shingle style hamptons home 📸: skaufman4050

[oneinchfrog]

my gender is whatever the fuck lilith had going on at the timeskip there

[gigireece16]

mhmmm my hazel eyes looked greener, and that the grass wasn’t lusher on the other side or whatever i wrote in one of my short stories

[findingniamho]

I think this speaks for itself

[itsstilltru]

we interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you… a man… thanks for your time