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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 his way with a laugh, spinning in the rushes, fe eding off of him. 

“Some love letters perhaps? Father, are your courting a woman?” She moved to the fire to see better, making sure he saw how easy it would be for her to clutch them into the flames. She wondered what he would do to her then, if he could bring himself to do anything to her. 

(She wondered if he would press her throat, choke the life from her, if he would stop if she ground herself against him). 

Deaf to his pleas Alayne looked down and saw the name scrawled across them, the ink faded with time but still unmistakably the name of Sansa’s mother. All of them to her, all of the sealed, all of them undelivered. 

Petyr seemed to know when she figured it out. He silenced and retreated back a step, into the seeming protection of the shadows. 

Despite herself she felt a tremble in her hand, a wave of mixed emotions rising in her stomach, the most surprising of which was a pure and unmis takable envy

He had never given her letters. 

She thought about tossing them to theheat but found it more cutting to drop them among the soot and rushes, to step on them as she left the solar. 

fairlyfunctioning:

gabbyzvolt25:

bi-est-witch-of-middleearth:

kittenwiskers:

writing-prompt-s:

You’re in charge of assigning every child on Earth the monster under their bed. One child in particular has caused every monster assigned to him/her to quit. You decide to assign yourself.

Case: #273402
Status: Disastrous.

I stare at the file and realize I have no options, over the last 2 years every monster assigned to Charlotte Dower has quit, every last one. Her first monster; a giant goldfish-faced humanoid named Bubba, had been with her for four years, and then she wasn’t scared of him anymore. After that it was a string of different common, uncommon, and rare monsters… I even assigned a sentient sock monster to her. He came back crying!
I look on my tablet, only one assignable monster left; myself. Field work has never been my cup of tea, but desperate times call for desperate measures. So at 8:03 pm, after Mrs. Gideon tucks in Charlotte and her little brother Daniel; I slither into the space beneath Charlotte’s bed.
Across the room underneath Daniel’s crib is a rookie, Chico, a standard Creep kind of monster.
I turn my attention to the bed above me, Charlotte is still awake but barely, I reach up over the bed and run an ice cold finger over her ch eek, silence, so I do it again.
“I’m not afraid of you monster!” She whispers, but her voice is shaking. I can see a small clock on the wall 8:14, a door somewhere in the house slams and there is an audible hitch of breath from above me. A few minutes go by I can hear Francis Gideon yelling at his wife. There are heavy footsteps on the stairs, and loud panting breaths, Charlotte scrambles off the bed and…
She. CRAWLS. Under. The. Bed. With. Me.
“Move. Over!” Charlotte hisses at me. I do.
The door to the bedroom slams open and I smell the stench of human intoxicants before the man even steps inside.
I know why Charlotte isn’t afraid of any of my monsters; she’s afraid of her own.
Francis reaches a hand under the bed and I thrust my wrist into it, he starts to pull, I slither out.
“What the…” I cut Francis’s next words off by unfolding to my full 12 foot height. Looming over the drunken man I caress my cold fingers down his face.
“If you ever touch, scare, or harm my child again, I will find you, and I will do the same to you, for all eternity.” I promise to him.
As Francis runs from the room he soils himself.
I pull Charlotte from under the bed, tuck her back under her covers and kiss her forehead goodnight. “I’ll be back tomorrow night, sleep well darling.”
Charlotte Dower is my child, I am the monster under her bed.

WELL GODAMN, WE HAVE OURSELVES A WINNER

Holy shit I’m gonna cry that’s beautiful.

Every single cursed moment of my tumblr existence has led me here. I am whole. I am complete.

(via chainrings)