Death by Game of Thrones

You, Sir, are going to kill me.

You are going to kill me by being unbelievably sweet and generous, by giving me the inexplicable, overwhelming, tickly feeling joy (a.k.a. kilig in Filipino language) of being the owner of a tattered “Storm of Swords” and soon-to-be tattered “A Feast for Crows.”

What makes it so special is that you gave it to me (no matter how ugly it is now) that I just have to go home immediately after work to give whoops of joy.

Damn you.

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