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len | Lizzington through S3E10 | Fan Fiction Blog: RedXLizzie.tumblr.com" /><"http://redandlizzie.tumblr.com/page/12" />
softjellow:
“Leanne Coronel ‘84 and Aidan Gillen (Games of Thrones), whom she manages, at the SAG Awards earlier this winter. Photo courtesy of Leanne Coronel
”

softjellow:

Leanne Coronel ‘84 and Aidan Gillen (Games of Thrones), whom she manages, at the SAG Awards earlier this winter. Photo courtesy of Leanne Coronel

(via weekendsareforwhiskey)

factoseintolerant:

can you forgive me? yes.

I didn’t watch so I’m not sure how this came across in video, but that’s certainly not how a father touches a daughter. And it really makes me wonder about MB’s continued father references toward Red. It’s odd and uncomfortable.

good-enough-for-me:

Aidan Gillen in The Globe’s Measure for Measure now available to rent here.

(via greedisgreen)

roominthecastle:

me when i hear about sth potentially interesting happening on the blacklist

image

me when i read the details

image

(via filmya247)

myrandar:

Other Voices, Derry 

lizzingtonclub:
“December 31, New York
”

lizzingtonclub:

December 31, New York

asker

Anonymous asked: Angst prompt: "Please, put it DOWN." - petyr x sansa? :)

apprenticemockingbird:

He had never spoken to her in such a way before, his voice sharp and cutting. It was a tone for servants, for girls of no consequence, not for Alayne

For a moment the air between them lay silent, the cracking logs of the fire the only sound. Even the rushes lay unmoved. Alayne’s hand lay still over the seal of the topmost letter, the tip of her nail hovering over the unmarred wax. She felt like a child, caught by her father while taking too many sweets, and the warmth in her cheeks could not be blamed on the fire. She hated herself for this reaction; she hated him. 

She hated that it was not undeserved. She had been going through his things, her curiosity getting the better of her, her position emboldening her. She had spent too many nights on his lap not to feel like she had some right to see the plans laid out for her. 

But the item that had caught her attention had been placed at the back of the desk, clearly forgotten but loved, something that had traveled with him across the years. She had pulled out the bundle of letters with trepidation and had been considering whether to put them back before he had caught her, before he had convinced her of their import. 

She felt her lips curl in a cruel smile. It slide into place like a perfectly fitted glove. 

“What is it, father?” she tried her most innocent voice on him, one she knew worked – it had gotten her dresses and jewels and all manner of privileges. The anger in him had unsettled him and she longed to sink into it deeper. 

“It is not for you.” He reached out to take it, crossing the room in a flurry of silks and she merely danced out of h